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blueikeproductions · 1 year

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Earlier in the year, Dan and JD find themselves in Ms. Flemming’s classroom/office. Pulling double duty as a guidance councilor and as a teacher is a bit of a challenge to Flemming, but she finds she thrives in such a chaotic environment. That and the school is under a hiring freeze, and Westerberg has to make do with what they’ve already got. Her classroom is decorated with assorted 60’s era memorabilia which Dan finds tacky and JD finds mortifying, especially the Peace & Love ☮️ 💕posters. The only modernish stuff is a Hang In There poster with Wile E. Coyote hanging on a tree branch with one hand and trying to blow out a dynamite stick he’s holding with his other hand. There’s also a Hippie Garfield bobble head on her rather cluttered desk being used as a paper weight for some graded papers and what looks like several divorce papers. A picture of Flemming with her two teenage children is sitting next to the papers; the two teens are an uptight looking girl and a more relaxed slightly shorter boy. Dan and Veronica knew them, they were a grade higher and had already graduated, but the girl got in trouble with the police recently over a drug bust last he heard…

Ms. Flemming herself is sitting on the desk, a middle aged woman with long wavy hair, purple sunglasses wearing a fruity headband and loud robes, beads and necklaces not out of place at Woodstock. The boys wince at her obnoxious anachronistic style, she absolutely refuses to let her decade go, with Dan making a note to never let his decade rule him like it clearly does Flemming. JD is trying to fight the urge to strike a match and let the room burn down because it’s offensive to his sensibilities, but he knows it won’t do any good because Flemming would probably encourage burning down the establishment anyway.

Ms. Flemming: So I brought you two in here because I’m concerned.

-Dan and JD look at each other confused-

Dan: Uh, about what, exactly?

Flemming: -side eyes JD- Oh I’m just concerned about the company you boys keep. Mr. Dean here hasn’t exactly adjusted to life at Westerberg.

JD: What’s to adjust? This place is the “Thunderdome”, even the Principal call this dump that.

Flemming: You brutally attacked Mr. Sweeney and Mr. Kelly on the first day, held Mr. Throttle at gun point and later gave him a black eye simply for talking to Ms. Sawyer.

JD: -glances at Dan and blushes a bit, looking annoyed- Am I not supposed to protect my f… fre… freeeee- fuck it, my acquaintances? Besides I’m just bringing my brand of rough and tumble to a place already rough and tumbling. And the gun was a squirt gun, calm your tits, lady. -pulls out the gun in question and fires a few water spurts in the air, and puts it back in his jacket-

Flemming: … Even so, it wasn’t the right way to approach it, and I’m concerned at what you might do to Mr. Braverman here.

Dan: Me?

JD: What would I do to Danny-boy? -looks genuinely confused-

Flemming: I’m concerned you’ll drag each other into a dark path because of your…debatable habits, Mr. Dean. I’m not sure what it is why innocents like Ms. Sawyer and Mr. Braverman here are so attracted to the bad types like you and Ms. Chandler.

JD: -growls and looks more annoyed-

Dan: Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, Mizz Flemmin’. -hand waves- Jason’s a good guy once ya get to know ‘em. He and I knew each other back at Hawkins, and he couldn’t “warp my young mind” back then, and he couldn’t do it now if he tried, right, Jason? -playfully elbows him-

JD: Heh, yeah, I, uh, tried to get this guy into smoking back then, and turns out he got ME t’quit! How’s that for pathetic? -sneaks a piece of nicotine gum-

Flemming: So you two knew each other before? I did sense some history. Certainly would explain why Mr. Dean follows Mr. Braverman around like a little lost puppy lately… Still, do you two have any carry over baggage that I should be aware of, for the safety of the students of course. After the tragic passing of Heather Chandler and Sacha Silverman via suicide, I have to be sure nothing else is going to “warp” the other sensitive minds of the school.

Dan: -looks offended- We still don’t know if Specs actually suicided… Why would he willingly crush himself with the AV equipment and computers?

Flemming: Perhaps you didn’t know Mr. Silverman as well as you thought you did. He may have had some hot ball of shame he felt he needed to be free from.

JD: -low muttering- No, the only hot ball of shame there was Red, and she crushed Specs into bloody sludge with it….

Flemming: What was that, Mr. Dean?

JD: Uh, -clears throat- me and Danny-boy don’t have any hot balls of shame. We’re perfectly well adjusted 17 year olds! -Dan gives a JD a doubtful look and JD wavers a bit-

Flemming: I see, but instead of talking for him, I’d like to hear it directly from Mr. Braverman. Everyone has guilt, regret, anxiety and fears we dare not name.

Dan: -thinks of the Super Demogorgon and shifts uncomfortably- You don’t know the half of it, Mizz Flemmin’.

Flemming: I’d like to.

JD: Nooooo you don’t. Not anymore than we needed to hear how you faked it with Steve-O at your feel good seminar. (Flemming: Ok, that might’ve been a little TMI on my part…) What adult tells that to CHILDREN? Anyhow, they’re called fears we dare not name for a reason. I sleep with a rifle next to my bed fooooor… -realizes he’s contradicting himself- perfectly well adjusted reasons.

Flemming: -raises eyebrow-

Dan: -clenches his fists, starting to get fed up- Okie-doke. You REALLY wanna know?

JD: Danny-boy…

Flemming: Shush, let him speak.

Dan: Jason and me fought monsters back in Hawkins. Things you can’t even imagine, we lost friends. My friend Eddie got eaten by a thing out of your worst nightmares (Flemming: My 2nd husband’s affair with his fat, male secretary?), and we just barely made it out alive with a mondo, mega monster, that without help, we wouldn’t be here talking about it now. …There was so much blood… So much goop… Oh, and let’s not forget the Russians snooping around Hawkins Mall and Hawkins Labs! That certainly didn’t help ma-

-The bell rings-

Flemming: -sighs- I guess we’re not shining much of a light on things today, especially if neither of you’re not going to take this seriously.

Dan: I’m telling the truth…!

Flemming: About a very traumatic Dungeons & Dragons campaign it sounds. I’m sure your friend Eddie is perfectly fine. Perhaps the real problem here is an inability to separate fantasy from reality, Mr. Braverman. All that comic book reading can’t be good for your brain, anymore than it is to be hanging around this delinquent.

JD: Eat my shorts.

Flemming: We’ll pick this up later, and next time I want the truth. I don’t want to lose any more students to any more nonsense. And god forbid, any of it drags you boys down with it.

-Later in the year, a blood and goop covered JD and Dan are dragging the corpse of a Demogorgon around the campus football field. The body is filled with bullet holes, bruises from croquet mallet strikes, and has a pitch fork in its chest from where the boys struck the final blow-

Dan: It’s leaving a trail of blood… This isn’t good…

JD: Most of it is ours at least. If it comes to it, we can say you and I got into a fight. It’s… technically not wrong. -points to Dan’s bandaged arm from the boiler room incident-

Dan: Yeah, but I don’t want to give Flemmin’ the satisfaction she might have been right…

JD: Our relationship is complicated, but you’re my brother... -they drag the body behind the weight room building- Isn’t it kinda in the rules brothers feud?

Dan: Aww. -they set the body down- You called me “brother”, the blended family is working after all. -teases-

JD: -tired grins- Only proving my point. Alright. So what do we do with Chuckles here? Why WAS Chuckles here?

Dan: Vecna could be expanding his reach… I haven’t heard from Will in awhile, and that might factor into it…

JD: I didn’t see any goopy veiny gates near the school, and I doubt this guy would charter a bus just to come to Sherwood…

Dan: -yanks out the pitchfork from the body, and more goop splatters him- We’ll cross that bridge later, right now we gotta ditch the body.

JD: Kinda wish I didn’t waste our old bomb, could’ve shoved it up this thing’s ass and watch it go kablooey!

Dan: That would’ve taken us and half the town with it!

JD: … We could die as heroes? …Ok stop giving me that look, Danny-boy.

Dan: Lemme think… - leaning on the pitch fork- We can’t bury the body. The last time that happened we accidentally planted a DemoTree. Like those cranky trees from Oz only they threw face eating apples…!

JD: Burning it is then. -gets out a lighter- I’m pretty sure there’s still some gasoline in the groundskeeper’s shed we can douse the creep with.

Flemming: Douse the who with what now? -She appears around the corner from the bushes with a guilty looking Veronica-

Dan and JD: CRAP/FUCK! -they drop the pitchfork and lighter-

Veronica: I’m sorry, I was looking for you guys, and Flemming followed. Her Spider Senses were tingling…

Flemming: I ignored my Spider Senses regarding whatever was going on in the boiler room, but a trail of red sludge and foot prints I can’t turn the other cheek o- -looks down and sees the gnarled body- SWEET JESUS!!! What did you boys do?!? I knew this would happen!

Veronica: -screams the same way when it finally sunk in Red Heather died of poisoning- HOLY SHIT -pointing at the creature- IT’S REAL!?!? Then… then… JD, those scars on your chest..! You-you two really fought Russians!!? And… this…thing… I… it was TRUE?!?!

Flemming: Oh god, Veronica, don’t tell me you got warped by their delusions too.

Veronica: …What? Ms. Flemming, that’s a monster’s CORPSE laying there!

Flemming: It’s just some warped LARPing Game they took too far, and it ends right now!

JD: …The HELL you think we’re trying to do?!

Flemming: Oh god, -kneels down to examine the body- what kinda mascot suit is this? A home made Alien suit? The face is all wrong. Young man, you can get up now. Show’s over.

Dan: …Mizz Flemmin’, it’s not a student, we swear. …Well… I mean… there COULD be a student in there, these things aren’t picky about what they eat…

JD: -sighs and rubs temples- Danny-boy, zip it.

-The body convulses-

Veronica, Dan and JD: -look scared-

-The Demogorgon picks itself up and growls, looking around confused-

Flemming: Ah good. Now take off that stupid mask, so I can…. Can… -the creature rises to its full height and unfurls its head petals, revealing its inhuman face-mouth and roars at Ms. Flemming and Veronica- Oh my…

-The creature lunges at the two women, Flemming pushing Veronica away from its trajectory and closes her eyes, bracing herself-

-She hears loud gunshots and opens her eyes, seeing the creature, now with a gaping hole in its back where the pitchfork wound was, laying at her feet, she looks up to see JD and Dan aiming smoking guns, the former lowering his slowly while the later just casually drops it-

Dan: It’s dead now. You two ok…? -Veronica runs over and hugs the two boys in fright-

Flemming: What the HELL was that…?! -gingerly pointing at the corpse, it now starting to sink in…-

JD: Ah that’d be our very real, not delusional at all, LARPing game. All the rage back at Hawkins and not for the faint of heart…!

Ms. Flemming: -slowly nods in understanding and comically passes out-

JD: Only provin’ my point…

#heathers #stranger things au #heathers au #heathers fanfic #jd headcanons #jd heathers #crossover au #stranger things #heathers oc #veronica sawyer #pauline flemming #jason dean #stranger things headcanons #Heathers OC #blueike productions #blueike #demogorgon #heathers the musical #heathers 1989

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vt-scribbles · 2 years

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Vale of Dragons [Writing Snippet]

Experimental character introduction of Vale Thorn, an anthropomorphic dragon that escorts merchant caravans through dangerous, fantastical lands. Done to break a 6 year hiatus on independently writing! Rating: PG Setting: Modern-High Fantasy Themes: Giant/Tiny, Shifters, Dragons Length: 7k words Feedback is a writer's best friend!

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“Duck down and hold onto the seams! I can’t hold you in there while running like this!” Vale panted, cupping his clawed hand to the breast pocket of his vest. It was flapping around in the wind as he leapt over tree after tree, threatening to fling out the tiny furred creature that clung to its inner pocket.

“Stars’ sake, you’re a caravan escort and you don’t have anything to hold ‘min securely?!” the tiny ‘passenger’ shouted. Vale grimaced and glanced down.

“Dude I JUST started this job, I didn’t expect my first day to include running from a-”

A shriek cut through the trees above as the deafening crunch of iron wood split the air. A wave of heat buffeted Vale’s back and made him tuck his long tail closer to him. He looked over his shoulder. A wall of fire like a cascading wave about to crash upon the beach rose up above Vale’s head, engulfing tree and brush alike at breakneck pace. Without thinking, Vale lunged forward, wrapped his arms around his chest, and curled in on himself. He winced as flames lapped at his back. The sound of burning fabric alarmed him, making one of his long, floppy ears perk upright.

“Oh COME ON! Ugh- When will I learn?! WHEN will I learn not to trust cheap prices and a pretty smile?! SPECIFICALLY in that order-!”

A jab to his chin cut him out of his ranting. His tiny passenger squeezed their way out of his overbearing ‘hug’ of safety to push at his face.

“Can you stop wailing about your designer vests long enough to STOP. SMOTHERING ME?!” they shouted. Stunned, Vale furrowed his brows.

“Wh- I’m PROTECTING YOU, you dummy!”

“From WHAT? That thing is WAY behind us by-”

Sitting up, Vale angrily pouted down at his companion. The grass below the dragon was the only green color left in a blackened stripe of burnt foliage. It smoked and crackled. Vale’s tiny passenger slowly looked around, and popped their lips.

“... Ah. I see the problem.”

“Oh do ya?” Vale grumbled.

Another shriek in the canopy shocked Vale to his feet. He cupped his hand to his chest again, looking around.

“Just, get down in the pocket, okay?! I know it’s not the most comfortable or dignified place but it’s the only way I can be sure to have my hands available!” he urged. His tiny companion huffed and looked away. They looked down, subtly tucking something under their shirt. They quickly turned and scrabbled into the dragon’s breast pocket without complaint. Vale’s ears twitched in amusement at the ticklish feeling. His coiled-up tail slowly relaxed out behind him. Despite the, well, screeching tornado of teeth and claws circling above his head, he couldn’t help feel a small moment of delight at his reluctant passenger trusting his word… finally.

And then the moment of delight was cut off by an ironwood tree crashing to the forest floor and pinning Vale’s tail to the burnt ground. He cried out in pain and surprise, back hunching. He yanked his hips forward, eyes widening when the tree didn’t budge.

“It’s stuck.”

“... What do you mean ‘it’s stuck’?”

“Tailstuck. Possiblybroken.”

“Aren’t drakes supposed to have super-strength or something?! You’re fine, just lift it!”

Vale grabbed the base of his tail and aggressively pulled. His words were interrupted by grunts of effort and mild discomfort.

“That’s just! A stereotype! That applies to dalrunes! Lunaral drakes! Aren’t that strong! We’re good at, like, magic and stuff! AND, news flash! We’re very, very, VERY-”

A shuddering tremor shook the ground. Vale looked up, eyes wide. Golden claws and scales gleamed in the light now filtering in through a hole torn in the thick canopy. A draconic, horned head slowly lifted from the ground, snaking from a long, golden neck. Piercing red eyes glared down at Vale, and smoke billowed from its snout. Vale swallowed, freezing stiff.

“-... very territorial creatures.”

Snapping its teeth, the drake lunged its head down towards Vale. He recoiled back, clutching his tail tightly. The golden drake narrowed its eyes.

“Tornar-hoten. Nurk du de salen.”

“... Iiii. I’m sorry, one more time? You’re a bit hard to understand with all that rumbling-”

The lunaral snarled and reeled back, snapping its teeth with a mighty thump of its tail. Vale stiffened and yanked on his tail again, to no avail. The tiny companion in his pocket piped up, “What are you doing?! Just talk to it; you’re a drake!”

Vale’s brows knitted, eyes wide. He snapped his teeth, “I’m not a native speaker! I haven’t spoken moon-tooth since I was a kid! Why don’t YOU talk to it?!”

“I’M not a drake!”

The two’s arguing was cut short as the golden drake lunged forward. Vale yelped in surprise as he was pinned onto his back, a heavy weight on his chest. His tail twisted uncomfortably, still pinned beneath the tree.

Lurching down, the golden drake snapped its teeth in Vale’s face.

“SALEN! TORNAR-HOTEN! KIEEKAN, KIEEKAN!”

‘Kieekan’, now THERE was a word Vale knew, and it made his blood freeze into ice.

“Wh-WHOA WHOA! P-please, don’t kill us, what do you want?! J-just, speak a little slower! Uh-” He looked around rapidly, clicking his tongue. “Ah, sh-shoshi! W-wait, dammit no that’s Sedah tongue isn’t it-”

The golden drake snarled and reared up. Bright-orange glow shone through the thin scales on its neck as its throat bulged and rumbled with building pressure. Vale gripped so harshly at the ground that he left deep scores with his fingers.

“W-WAIT!”

He had little time to plead as the golden drake snapped its paw away from his chest and bellowed an overwhelming jet of fire upon him. Vale cried out as his body was engulfed in flames. He shut his eyes tight and quickly rolled over, clutching a hand over his chest. He couldn’t trust this vest anymore to keep his passenger safe… The only thing standing between his companion and a fiery death, was his body. But even that had its limits.

Sustaining such a jet of fire at point-blank range was a different beast than catching the tail-end of a blast. Vale felt his back burning uncomfortably; the rest of his vest had incinerated upon the initial blast.

A concerned, yet still-impatient sounding voice piped up from under him.

“Just tough it out and play dead or something! You can handle this, right?!”

Vale could barely crack open his eyes.

“I’m not a pyre drake, I’m a volt! I can’t take this much longer! What did you do to piss him off?!”

“NOTHING! I already said that!”

“YEAH WELL I’m starting to think you’re not being honest with me!”

“JUST get us out of here and I’ll fill you in later!”

Vale’s teeth grit together as he slowly curled in tighter on himself. His body shook. The discomfort in his back slowly drifted towards pain, and his scales began to ache.

Tail, pinned. Vests, gone. Fire, becoming unbearable. Even if he managed to miraculously hoist his tail free, this thing was four times his size and had much sharper assets than he did. If he wasn’t crushed or burned, he’d certainly be torn to shreds by tooth or claw. The only way out of this… was to be a worthy opponent to the golden drake.

And with very little volt-magic at his disposal… there was only one way to do that.

Vale tucked his head beneath him, curling as tightly in on himself as he could. ‘I didn’t think I’d have to do this on my first day here… but quick fire makes for stronger iron.’ He breathed deeply, mentally pushing away the roaring flames engulfing his body. ‘Focus. Capture that feeling again.’

Vale untucked his arms, quickly digging his claws deep into the earth. Now exposed to the fiery jet, they flinched, but he didn’t recoil. His brows knitted so tightly together that it made his skull ache. ‘Focus. Think of your core. Stretching… reaching…’ The earth beneath his fingers cracked. Vale tensed and pushed his muscles in his limbs, as if stretching them without moving. He felt an invisible force pulling on his chest. A familiar ache. Pressure built in his body, sending a thrum through every muscle of his chest, his back, his limbs. His blood roared in his ears, melding with the sound of the relentless flames scorching his back. He felt dizzy…

Which meant it was time.

Tensing every muscle in his limbs, Vale bore his head against the ground and sharply arched up his back. His body flashed with a bright-pink glow that engulfed him from horn to tail and startled the golden drake. The creature quickly backed up as it snapped its jaws shut. The jet of flames stopped, leaving smoke and embers in its wake. The golden drake backed into a defensive position, haunches, wings, and tail raised. Its red eyes widened at the scorched drake now enveloped in bright pink light.

And its eyes only grew wider as the ironwood tree that had pinned the tiny drake’s tail… groaned and shifted.

Back arched, limbs anchored to the earth, Vale’s body grew. His shadow overtook the patch of live grass below him that he’d shielded. The base of his tail strained and arched as it thickened, pushing with all its might against the ironwood trunk. His tail tip curled up around the trunk, trembling. Then, with a mighty cry and one last heave, he hoisted the trunk off the ground, slipped his tail from beneath it, and let it crash back into its earthy divot with a mighty ‘THUD’ that shook the trees.

The drake shot off like a bolt of lightning, into the forest. Though stunned, the golden drake shook itself back to its senses and reared its head to let out a territorial battle-cry. It scrambled into the woods after the glowing drake, smoke trailing from its nostrils.

Vale leapt deftly over fallen, mossy trees, summer-lush green gulleys, and glimmering brooks with practiced ease. His glowing body left a dazzling trail behind him. But it soon faded, leaving behind a sparkling aura around him. His hand- now completely engulfing his tiny companion in what remained of his burnt vest -cupped tight to his chest. He could feel tiny hands beating on it from under his palm, but thankfully, it wasn’t distracting enough to stop him.

Though, a quick, pinching pain to the underside of his finger was a different story.

Vale yipped and sharply drew his hand away from what remained of his vest. He glared down at his breast pocket, and the ‘min that was peeking out of it angrily.

“Hey fire-breath, you’re still smothering me down- … WHOA.” The now-even-tinier companion looked around Vale’s form rapidly, gesturing with their free arm. “You’re-! You’re HUGE; could you do this the whole time?!”

Vale tried to keep his focus on rushing through the forest, but still spared glances at his passenger as he spoke.

“Well-! Yes and no, I can’t just do it with a snap of my fingers… not yet, at least!”

“Can’t you just FIGHT that drake now?!”

“I don’t have any combat training and YOU could get caught in the crossfire! Quite literally!”

“Well what if you fight it and I run back to the caravan?” they shouted up, glancing down towards a strange lump under their shirt. Vale jumped over a massive root, landing heavily beneath it. He took a moment to duck under it, thanking it silently for the shelter.

“Because,” he panted, looking around. He could hear thudding footfall and cracking underbrush. “If it decides to chase you instead of me, you’ll get eaten, mauled, or end up leading it to the caravan. The kids won’t be able to run fast enough… I’m not risking a full-blown travesty, here. It’s not worth running there for help.” He looked at his singed back, and the complete lack of clothing remaining on it. The arms of his clothes were holding on by mere threads. “Even if it has cost me my new tops…” he snorted, sounding half-genuine.

“Well then I could hide here, and you could draw it away.”

“Why do you want to split up so badly?” Vale scoffed under his breath. “Lunaral have crazy-good noses, if it’s after you, it’ll sniff you out before you can say ‘mercy.’ And I’m sorry, but I’m not looking to get someone irreversibly maimed on my first day on the job by leaving them behind.”

“I can handle myself!”

“Oh yeah you were doing a GREAT job of that back there when you begged me to help you, with a drake snapping at your tail!”

“Yeah well it’s different now!”

“HOW?!”

“UGH, just, nevermind! I don’t need you scolding me like you’re my almia!”

The tiny passenger suddenly squirmed free of Vale’s pocket and hand, falling to the ground. Vale yipped and tried in vain to swipe the ‘min back up, but missed at every attempt. The ‘min landed with a small ‘plop’ and quickly grabbed their shirt, tucking something more securely under it. Vale blinked, craning his head down to get a closer look.

“... What do you have there-?”

The root above Vale’s head lurched and crunched as a massive weight bore down on it. Vale barked involuntarily and quickly scooped up the ‘min into his hand again… much to their displeasure. They squeaked and nipped and barked at him to let them go… but this time, he didn’t listen. His soft palm firmly wrapped around the irate passenger, sealing them in his hand and muffling them. He ducked down, his tail wrapping around his legs. The forest went silent.

All Vale could hear was his own shallow breathing… and the low, tell-tale rumbling of a drake.

Vale's ears perked as the perched drake above him let out a low, whining croon. It sighed, slowly breathing in and out… as if. Calming itself? Puzzled, Vale tilted his head. ‘Normally by now a wild lunaral would be tearing this forest apart for us. Why is he just sitting there?’ Vale’s ears pinned. ‘... This might be a terrible idea… but. It’s worth a shot.’

Vale inhaled deeply and grabbed the end of his tail. The ‘crystal ball’ on its end glittered, and a sparkling, round portal opened up in its glassy pink surface. Just big enough to fit his hand through. He leaned down close to his palm, opening it up enough for the ‘min inside to hear him.

“Stay still, and keep quiet. You’ll be safer in here if he blasts me again. I’m going to try something. Running isn’t fixing this.”

The ‘min looked around rapidly, realizing they were being slowly placed into the drake’s strange tail-bauble.

“OooOH NO you don’t! You’re not shoving me in that weird thing-!” they shouted.

A gold-crested head sharply lurched down over the root, practically bumping noses with Vale. He froze, wide-eyed, and glanced down at his hands. His crystal ball in one, a ‘min in the other. The gold drake snapped its attention to the ‘min. Vale snapped his hand into the tail bauble, pulled it out, and closed up the portal with a cheeky lopsided grin and a shrug.

“Ahah. Wwwwoops. Sorry bud, you can’t have this one,” he chuckled. The drake slowly narrowed its eyes, its lip curling over rows of teeth. Wisps of smoke began to waft from its nostrils. Vale shook his hands quickly. “Whoa whoa- ah, okay.” He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and let his shoulders relax. Using his hands to better facilitate his communication, he began making soft, uncertain churring sounds at the drake. They didn’t resonate as deeply in the chest as a wild drake… but by the curious tilt of the golden one’s head, it didn’t seem to matter. Snorting, the golden drake sat up. With the grace of a feline, it bounded off the root and stood proudly in front of Vale. It lifted its chin, clicking its teeth. Vale nodded and walked forward, ducking his head. The gold drake narrowed its eyes… but nodded in return. Gesturing around uncertainly, Vale crooned questioningly at the drake. It snorted and lowered its head.

“Tornar-hoten. Nurk du de salen.”

“Ah yes, this again… hm,” he replied with a pop of his lips, clapping his hands together. Vale paused, then sighed and patted his head in mock-frustration. The gold drake snorted, quizzically quirking a brow. Vale made eye contact, shook his head, then patted it again, whining. After a long moment, the gold drake spoke again, but slowly.

“Parles. De’nt de. Luna?”

After a long moment of perking his ears back and forth in thought… Vale shook his head.

The gold lunaral rumbled a low, frustrated sound before sitting down on its haunches. It looked around, claws kneading into the dirt. It looked up at the sky, eyes searching, muzzle mouthing something silently. Then it lowered its face and grimaced. Its lips pulled strangely over its teeth as it spoke slowly. “Speak. Little. Miata.”

Vale perked up with a hopeful smile.

“Ah, yes! Ah, kata!”

The gold drake snorted and shifted on its feet.

“Nur Miata bad. Painful speaking,” it growled.

“I’m very sorry, I know it must be uncomfortable.”

The gold drake stared for a moment. Then its brows raised, and it nodded. Vale sighed and lifted a finger to his chin.

“... So. Salen?” he asked. The drake narrowed its eyes, lip curling angrily. Vale gestured, looking around uncertainly. “Nurk du de salen? Help understand,” he said slowly. At that, the gold drake looked at its claws. Puzzled, it looked them over for a long few moments. Vale wondered if the drake had forgotten he was there for a moment, until it quickly turned to a branch that sported a single, golden fruit on it. The gold drake perked up, smirking. It hunched its shoulders and looked around suspiciously. Making a show of being ‘sneaky’, it snipped the fruit off the tree and tucked it under its arm. It looked around anxiously again, then pretended to sneak away. After pacing a few feet, it turned and looked at Vale expectantly. He was staring in confusion, rubbing his chin. ‘Snatching a fruit? Hungry? No, ‘Salen’ doesn’t mean hungry, that’s ‘Kehto’. ‘Salen’ rings a bell…’

Sitting up straight, Vale snapped his fingers.

“OH! Stealing? Stolen?” he asked excitedly. His tail wagged subtly behind him. Though the golden drake scoffed at the childish action, it looked at the fruit pierced by its claws. At the drake’s lack of response, Vale frowned and walked over to it. It leaned back, surprised at such boldness- and then snorted in even further surprise as Vale snatched the fruit from its claws. It stared at him in offense. But, Vale simply smiled and held up the fruit before making a show of tucking it under his arm. “Salen? Dakkena?”

Brows raising, the golden drake stared at Vale. It nodded sagely, snorting. Vale did a proud little waggle of his hips before looking at the fruit he’d snatched. Glistening, amber syrup languidly rolled down the colorful gold-and-red skin. Vale’s pupils dilated. He swallowed subtly, his mouth tingling expectantly. He held up the fruit hopefully to the other drake. It snorted and waved its paw dismissively. Tail wagging, Vale immediately bit into the golden fruit. Amber syrup splashed on his muzzle as a beautifully sugary-tart scent filled his nose. His eyes fluttered, a delighted hum in his chest.

“Mmm that’s the good stuff. I didn’t know these were in season already-!”

The golden drake snorted, squinting.

“Oh right- sorry. Got a bit lost there. So, someone stole something?”

Though it furrowed its brows, the drake nodded hesitantly. Vale tilted his head, chewing on a juicy piece of his pilfered fruit. His chewing slowed, brows furrowing. ‘Wait. Something was stolen. And it was chasing me… and I know I didn’t steal anything-’

Vale’s back slowly straightened. He stared hard at the orb on the end of his tail.

“... One moment.”

Shoving the rest of the fruit between his teeth, Vale pulled his tail orb over and formed a small portal on its surface. He shot his hand in, pulled it out, and held a very startled ‘min out. They scrambled to cover their shirt, glaring over their shoulder at Vale.

“AY! You mind, bub?! Aren’t you supposed to be getting me back to the caravan? What are you gonna do, feed me to this drake?”

Vale snorted.

“Don’t tempt me. Now then. Care to give back whatever you’re hiding under your shirt?” he said casually. He didn’t take his eyes off the ‘min as he took a slow, pointed bite out of the fruit he held. The ‘min glanced around, their lips drawing tight.

“... How did you know?”

Perking up, Vale chuckled and tossed the rest of the fruit into his mouth.

“Oh, I didn’t! Until now.” He waggled his head with a smirk. The ‘min’s expression fell into an annoyed grimace.

“Uuuugh. Oldest trick in the book,” he grumbled. Vale nodded and unceremoniously wiped the remainder of the fruity syrup from his muzzle.

“Now then! You gonna give it back, or are we gonna be difficult about this?”

“No! I found it fair and square, it can spare one trinket!”

Frowning lopsidedly, Vale lifted the ‘min up to the golden drake’s face. It glared down at the tiny captive, its teeth glinting in the dappled forest light.

“Salennnn,” it growled.

The ‘min sharply leaned back, clutching their shirt to their chest.

“Hey! P-personal space, scales! You don’t need this!”

The gold drake’s red eyes widened sharply. It reared its head back, smoke pouring from its nostrils. Vale’s proud smirk twitched as his eyes widened.

“I really don’t feel like getting torched again so please just give back whatever you took okay thank you,” he said rapidly. The ‘min growled over his shoulder at Vale.

“YOU don’t feel like getting torched-?!”

“LISTEN, would you just give it back?! Whatever you took cannot be worth this!” he barked back. He quickly lifted his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath. “Sorry, didn’t mean to raise my voice, however…” Slowly, he lifted his hand from his eyes and gazed down at the tiny creature with a strange new sharpness to his gaze. The ‘min leaned back, their chest tightening. For a while there… they’d forgotten they were in the grasp of a drake, not some fluffy, domesticated creature. Vale, like many of his kind, sported deep-red eyes with striking, golden sclera. His irises flickered about the ‘min’s form, taking in every detail. “Taking something that someone may value more than you could possibly know, just because you want it or think you deserve it more than them.... I can’t turn a blind eye to that, especially with this being my first day on this job. It’s my responsibility to keep travelers safe, but I will be telling the boss about this. Now. You can either give whatever you stole back to this drake… or I’ll let them take it from you. You’ve made this meal, so eat it,” he said slowly. He held the ‘min closer to the golden drake’s snout. It glared down at them and lifted up a clawed hand, sharply turning it over. It beckoned its fingers towards its palm, snorting smoke into the ‘min’s face. They coughed and waved their hand through the smoke, shaking their head. They looked down at their shirt, and the strange lump beneath it with a dark, furrowed glare. The fur on the back of their neck bristled.

“... Fine. But I’ll be damned if I ever use one of your boss’ caravans again.”

Vale’s jaw cocked to the side. ‘With how sticky your fingers are, I don’t think they’ll mind that.’ He sighed and gestured to the ‘min.

“Well?”

“Yeah yeah,” they grumbled, untucking something from under their shirt. Vale flinched as the gleam of a glittering golden ring shined in his eyes. He blinked to clear them, then stared curiously. The ‘min’ held a large ring with red and blue jewels sunken into ornately-chiseled settings. The gems were roughly cut and organic-looking. They bore no sharp edges of precision jewel cuts or fine polishing. Eyes narrowing quizzically, Vale leaned closer. The metal, though brilliant, bore tell-tale scarring from drake-fire.

“... That’s a courtship token, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the golden drake. It perked up before looking away, its ears pinning back. Its extended hand curled a bit, and its free hand shuffled on the ground. A rumble resonated in its throat. Vale stood up a bit straighter and took the ring from the ‘min’s hands, earning a sharp noise of protest. He frowned at them and drew his tail closer, unceremoniously shoving them back into the orb at its end. Ignoring the muffled shouts, he turned to the drake and gently took their hand. He delicately placed the large ring in its palm. The golden drake wasted no time in lifting it up to its face, inspecting it with wide, searching eyes. It delicately took it between two claws, looking it up and down, touching each of the jewels in turn. After a moment, it sighed deeply and lowered one of its wings. With great delicacy for such a creature, it carefully ushered the ring onto the single digit at the crook of its wing. After checking its snugness, the drake nodded and tucked its wing back up, turning its gaze to Vale.

Vale smiled and clasped his hands together.

“Don’t worry. It’s beautiful craftsmanship; they’re going to love it,” he said softly. The golden drake blinked and looked away, jutting its lower jaw out in a pout.

“E-ak kul,” it replied in quiet earnest.

The drake stood from the lush forest floor and shook itself off. Its scales glittered and cast dancing points of light on the red bark of the massive trees. Casting its regal gaze down at Vale, the drake looked him over. Its nose wrinkled at the sight of Vale’s burnt clothes.

“Sooneet dul… Et…” Its lips curled awkwardly over its fangs as it forced, “-sorry for. Your skin.”

Vale raised a brow and looked himself over.

“My skin? I mean, ya toasted me a little bit back there, but I’m fine, I think.”

The drake shook its head and lifted a claw to what remained of Vale’s vests. It hooked a claw and tugged lightly on the fabric.

“Your skin-”

With one tiny tug, the rest of the vest’s threads gave up and let the scrap of cloth fall to the floor. Both drakes looked down and stared at it, silent. Vale couldn’t help but snort and cover his mouth, but the golden drake looked away bashfully.

“Mm. Sooneet.”

Vale waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s okay. I can always save up for a new one.”

Though it seemed puzzled by Vale’s statement, the drake nodded sagely and backed away. It looked to the skies. Late-afternoon sun beamed through the treetops, which seemed a mile overhead. Vale followed its gaze. At first he didn’t understand what they were looking at- but the darting shadows of massive, soaring creatures above the canopy quickly answered his question. He didn’t need to see the mysterious shadows for more than a fleeting second to know what was flying overhead, towards the Dolent Flats.

“You should go join them,” Vale said softly, never taking his eyes off the sky peering through the canopy. The golden drake grunted, nodding.

Sparing Vale one last thankful look, the golden drake backed away from the gnarled roots and bound to a small clearing. The muscles beneath its glittering, armored back rippled as it turned its eyes to the sky and shuffled its wings. Vale watched as, slowly, a pair of tan and amber wings unfolded from the drake’s back. Time seemed to slow as the drake’s wings cascaded dappled light on every surface in the clearing, and sent an amber glow onto the floor beneath its feet. A single, thudding beat of its wings sent leaves and light scattering across the clearing with a gust so powerful, Vale swore he couldn’t breathe for a moment. He clasped his hands tightly in front of him. His eyes never left the drake’s form as it crouched down and turned its gaze to the sky.

Then, like a bolt of liquid gold, the drake launched fluidly into the air with a single beat of its wings. Each thrust sent a shuddering gale through the air, and a pounding thrum through Vale’s chest. His hands clutched painfully. His eyes traced the graceful creature’s ascent into the canopy with the awe of a child seeing the dazzling colors of fireworks for the first time.

As soon as the creature broke through the leaves of the canopy… the thrumming beat of its wings vanished, and Vale was left alone in the clearing. His eyes never left the sky as he bent to pick up what remained of his vests. As he stood straight, he craned his neck to look at his back.

A stiff breeze blew through the clearing, rustling Vale’s mane.

He shook his head, forcing his eyes away from his back. He gazed out at the forest, his eyes, and thoughts, distant.

-----

“What do you MEAN they stole from a DRAKE?!” bellowed a tall, well-built nis. Vale flinched as the elven woman loomed over him, her booming voice making his ears tremble. He’d shifted back down to his normal height, and once more only stood about thirteen feet tall. His boss, a formidable brick wall of a woman at 15 feet, was more than a little ‘much’ when he only met her shoulders.

“I mean just that, ma’am. After running off from the caravan, they made off with a drake’s courtship token. I’m surprised they didn’t get torched or munched,” he said, letting the last part out in a mumble. The hefty nis rubbed her forehead, marching around in a circle. Everyone nearby, though they pretended to be tending to their caravans and respective load-bearing animals, kept casting the two long, curious glances. They muttered among one another, pointing and curling their tails in intrigue. Vale could tell by the twitching and perking of their long, elven ears that they were enjoying this ‘show.’

But, Vale had little time to pay the onlookers any mind as his boss closed back in on him and shook her finger at his snout.

“Ya had ONE job, and ya couldn’t even do it for a day! The professors at the academy may have squirmed you into my ranks on ‘good behavior’, but that doesn’t mean BUNK when ya can’t handle fetching a single ‘min!”

Ears pinning, Vale tilted his chin up.

“H-hey, wait just a minute! I DID fetch them-!”

“OH YEAH? Then where are they?! You’re nuder than a hatchling and they certainly weren’t riding in that burnt scrap of cloth ya used to call a vest!” she barked, shaking the drake’s ruined clothing in her fist. Vale flinched. His cheeks turned up, and his eyes began to sting. He sharply turned, grabbed his tail, brought the orb in front of him, and abruptly reached in to retrieve a very ruffled, and very displeased-looking ‘min. They glared daggers back at the drake, who didn’t seem shy about glaring back. He turned his eyes to his boss, who stood with his vests still held up, frozen, staring at the ‘min. Vale pursed his lips.

“If you’d just let me finish earlier, I would have brought him out sooner,” he mumbled with what little respect he could still muster.

“... Ya managed to retrieve them unharmed, against a territorial lunaral, and ya only took some dorky sweater vest as a casualty?” she said slowly. Vale’s nostrils flared indignantly, but he tempered his tone as he replied, “It was two vests, actually. And my back is a little torched… but yes. They’re unharmed. Just really, really pissed.”

“Damn RIGHT I am, scales-for-brains!”

“Also a little bit speciesist,” he mumbled out the side of his mouth. The ‘min stuttered, then reeled their claws back to swipe at Vale’s snout, but they were quickly stopped by a bellowing laugh from Vale’s boss. The nis leaned back and placed a broad hand to her forehead, guffawing loudly enough to send a few nearby birds fleeing off of a folpie’s back. The lazy creature looked solemnly at its back before laying its elegant head back down on its hooves.

Vale’s boss wiped her eyes with one last laugh and shook her head.

“Haaa… you’re fired.”

“What?!” Vale yipped, tossing his hands out to the side. “Th-that’s not fair! What did I-”

“Oh no not you. Them,” she said plainly, thumbing at the ‘min in Vale’s grasp.

“WHAT?!” they barked indignantly, voice cracking. Vale’s boss waved a hand dismissively.

“Ya always were a lousy scout. And now you’re stealing from drakes that could get people killed? You’re lucky that it was a lunaral and not a tymotsu! Half of us might be ribbons by now if it had been! YOU certainly would be, that’s for damn sure!” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I told ya you had one more chance, and if you were ever caught breakin’ our code, you were out!”

“Y-you can’t get rid of me!” they crowed, grinning. “I’m indispensable, you’ll never get another ‘min like me to go do your scouting safely!”

Unamused, Vale’s boss quirked a brow and stood akimbo, fists firmly on her hips. She looked plainly at Vale and nodded, jutting her lower lip out.

“Vale can get smaller.”

The ‘min bristled.

“Y-you! He’ll be terrible for the job!”

“Well at least he won’t go stealin’ anything from other drakes,” she said simply. She reached up and thumbed her nose, glaring down at the ‘min. “Now. Ya gonna leave respectfully, or do we gotta get Taylor over here to make sure you don’t steal anything before we get to the city?”

“NO- no. That. Won’t be necessary,” they said sharply, holding their arms out. “I’d rather ride in this idiot’s tail orb all the way back than let that freak even look at me again,” they said with a shudder. Vale’s boss chuckled and rubbed under her nose with her finger.

“Good. Though, I’m not about to subject Mr. Thorn here to carrying you around for the next day or so,” she said, nodding back towards the onlookers. “Git’ going. Go to my caravan, now. You know where to wait.”

“Yeah yeah by the stinky folpie’s ass at the front of the ‘van, got it,” they grumbled, squirming free of Vale’s grip. He blinked and let go, watching them clumsily plop to the ground. They spared him an angry look over their shoulder before scampering off on all fours, tail lashing.

Vale fiddled with his ear, looking around aimlessly.

“... So, ma’am?”

“Hm? OH right, you probably need some replacement clothes until we get back, right? I’m sure I’ve got an extra shirt you can wear, but I’m not sure it’ll fit too well!” she bellowed, laughing boisterously. Vale smiled awkwardly, waving his hand.

“N-no that’s fine! I mean, lunaral often don’t wear much. I’m comfy like this, but… I did want to ask you something.”

“Well? Spit it out! If ya got a question then lead with that!”

“Right. Ah, were you… serious about me replacing them? Don’t ‘min usually take scout jobs?”

Vale’s boss put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips at him.

“Why d’ya seem so confused? You’re a shifter, ain’tcha?”

“Yes but-”

“And you need money now to replace your sweaters, eh?”

“Yeah-”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“How do you know I’ll be any good at it?! I can only walk, my shifting only lasts so long, and I was just supposed to have a temporary job walking alongside the folpies and stuff to make sure they don’t get spooked and run off into the woods while we’re traveling! Folpie babysitting and walking are a far cry from scouting out potentially dangerous areas! If I mess up, I could get people hurt!”

“Yeah, and? That’s already part of your job description.”

“... I just. Think this may be a mistake. I don’t know if I’m cut out for that sort of responsibility. I’m just a volt drake with basic-level spells that a newling could learn, with enough practice.”

“And having a job like this will make those basic-level spells not-so-basic-level by the time you get done with a few scouting jobs.” Vale’s boss waved a hand, frowning. “Come on, Mr. Thorn. I’ve known you for a week and I’ve caught you wistfully staring into the forest when ya think I’m not looking. I can tell ya wanna get out there and explore. You were all too eager to chase our little ex-scout down to fetch them.” She stepped forward and clapped a hefty hand onto Vale’s shoulder, making him flinch. He gazed up at her. Her voice and expression softened. “Just try it for a bit. I think ya might like it. And if ya don’t, well, you can go back to just being an apprentice folpie-guider until the season is over.”

Vale stared hard at his boss’ face, blinking slowly with glittering eyes. His mane trembled, bristling from its base up to his head. He momentarily felt the wind rushing on his face, the thrill of racing through the forest, the strange satisfaction of speaking to another drake in their native tongue…

… Well. If he could get that at least one more time, where was the harm in trying?

“... Okay, okay. You’ve convinced me!” he chuckled. His boss grinned widely and turned, harshly patting him on the back. He stiffened with a yelp, rubbing his sore scales with a soft hiss. Oblivious, his boss walked off, waving back at him without turning around.

“But be warned, if ya do TOO good of a job, I might like havin’ ya around and ask those snobs at the academy to let us borrow ya now and then!” she laughed. As she paced away, she looked at his burnt clothes she still held in her hand. She cast a gaze over her shoulder. “And ah, replacing these is on me. We’ll get you something high quality in town, I know some great folks who work some real magic with their fabric,” she said with a wink. Vale straightened up.

“Oh no no, that’s not-!”

“Aaah pipe down! Of course it’s necessary! Don’t want you out there gettin’ hurt on my watch!” she retorted, shaking her hand dismissively. “But for now, I’ll get ya a shirt or something! Don’t want everyone in the caravan thinking it’s open season for no clothes! Not again,” she grumbled, looking into the distance. “Anyways. ALRIGHT FOLKS, get off yer tails and get those folpie harnessed! We’re heading out in five!” she shouted, her voice carrying across the entire gathering of carts and wheeled stands. Everyone groaned and started lazily getting to their feet. Some of the other nis spared Vale curious glances, but didn’t bother him. He seemed to be… elsewhere, at the moment.

The drake was rubbing his back, staring into space. Everything happened so fast, he couldn’t believe he’d just adopted yet another job onto his plate. That made four, now… ‘Can I handle that many? Should I drop one…? I mean, pest control is pretty same-y. I’m sure the library can do without me. M-maybe.’ Vale sighed and stood straighter, groaning as the scales on his back shifted uncomfortably. ‘Maybe I should ask her for some scale salve. If she’d even have any.’ His brows furrowed. ‘I got really lucky that lunaral didn’t give me its all. I won’t always be so lucky, caravan scouts get seriously injured all the time. Am I… is this really worth it?’

A chorus of haunting calls, far in the distance, perked Vale’s ears. A stiff wind blew as the drake turned to look out over the land. The caravan was stopped on a hilltop, just barely standing above the main canopy. One could see almost endlessly into the Agium forests, and the various levels of trees cresting hundreds of feet above the ground. But the trees were nothing… compared to the monstrous monolith that stood above them, hundreds of miles in the distance. A lone peak, its top devoured by layers of cloud and mist, lay alone on the far horizon.

Dolent Flats.

The chorus rang again. Vale looked to the west, his breath catching in his throat at the flock of graceful, gliding fliers that soared above the canopy. The golden drake he’d helped was among them. They dipped and dove around each other, twirling in mid-air, diving into the trees only to burst out in an impressive spray of summer-lush leaves, and generally showing off. They roared and hissed in jubilation, but it was their howls of unrestrained flight and joy that carried the furthest on the winds.

Vale watched them, leaning forward. His tail wagged faintly behind him, and he found himself clutching his hands together in front of him. As he watched the drakes dip and dive and twirl around one another, heading for the great peak in the distance, his chest ached. His mouth pulled into a tight line. An unwilling whine rose in his throat as he unconsciously shifted his shoulders as if preparing for flight.

His eyes drifted from the traveling drakes… to the peak. Even from so far away, he could see that the small group was not the only one heading to the mountain. Far in the distance, from any direction, he could see flocks big and small gliding their way towards the lone peak. Their scales glinted in the late afternoon sun, which cast the cloud-topped mountain in a beautiful silver light.

Vale swallowed heavily, looking down at his hands. He slowly parted them. He’d clutched so hard he left small claw-marks in the backs of his hands. His ears pinned, and he tried to gently rub the marks out.

‘... I think this caravan makes that trip once… at the very end of the season. It’s usually just for the elites and enchanters, but maybe if I do a good enough job, they’ll let me come along.’

“ONE MINUTE, GET YOUR TAILS IN YOUR SEATS AND GET READY TO MOVE OUT!” shouted Vale’s boss across the way. Vale jumped, turning to the caravans. Everyone was getting ready, and a few nis elves and pitiak like himself were beckoning him over.

A cool, powerful breeze swept over the hillside, carrying with it the warm scents of wild flowers and summer-kissed grasses and trees. Vale took one last look over his shoulder at the great peak in the distance. As he watched flocks of drakes disappear into the cloudline above the mountain… he made himself a promise.

‘Before this year is over… that’s gonna be me. I’m going to get to the top of Dolent Flats if it’s the last thing I do. I’m tired of waiting.’

The wind blew under Vale, and for a moment, he felt as though he’d be carried away right with it. He closed his eyes in exhilaration, imagining the winds atop the Flats. His eyes snapped open, and he smiled brightly.

Eagerly looking over his shoulder, he waved to a nearby caravaneer and rushed over.

“Here, let me help you with that!”

#giant/tiny #size difference #dragon #writing #g/t writing #stoat drabble #Vale Thorn the Drake

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jaceeverett · 1 month

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MERROCK TASK #17 SPRING FORWARD

first things first: do you like spring? Love spring, probably my favorite season.

what is your favorite thing about spring? Fresh air, the budded trees, green grass under foot, birds in the air, animals roaming the woods, people laughing outside, bubbling brooks, I could really write a book on spring.

what is your least favorite thing about spring? Pollen allergies. My biggest weakness.

do you have a vegetable / produce / fruit garden? Yes, it's basically my pride and joy. Love gardening, it's my biggest source of stress relief, if I'm honest.

how about flower beds, or things planted in the house? I've got a couple of potted plants in Annabelle Lee, but there's not a lot of room. There's a couple of potted plants on my deck area, too.

regardless of what you do or do not plant, are you good at growing plants? have a green thumb? Very, I have a goal of growing prize-winning tomatoes at some point, fingers crossed.

what's your favorite flower or plant? Painted trillium, lupines, asters, all of the typical native flowers you see in and around Maine.

what's your favorite scent that you associate with spring? Flowers, mud, campfire smoke.

is there a sound that you associate with spring time? Peepers, those little frogs that come out at the start of spring.

do you prefer sunny mornings or rainy afternoons? Sunny mornings, but I don't have anything against rainy afternoons, either. Both have their upsides.

favorite thing to do on a sunny, warm spring day? Go on a long walk through the woods, head out to the beach to sit by the cliffs, maybe just go to the park.

favorite thing to do on a rainy, chilly spring day? House cleaning. Perfect time to catch up on things I've fallen behind in. Or just hang out and read, watch TV, relax a little bit.

do you celebrate Easter? any traditions you follow for it? Not really. We used to do stuff as a family when I was a kid, but I don't do anything for it now.

regardless of if you do or don't: favorite Easter candy? Sour jelly beans.

what other springtime holidays do you observe? I went to the St. Patrick's Day celebrations, other than that, nothing really. I like spring and all the spring things that happen, but they're not really holidays in the same way. Oh! I do always plant trees for arbor day.

favorite place in Merrock to visit in the springtime? I haven't been in Merrock in the spring time yet, at least not since I was a kid. I used to love to go out to the creek and hike the falls after a big rain.

the spring bugs are coming out: do you rescue them and let them out of the house, or grab the nearest shoe? Rescue them, even if they become a problem, I try to use the humane traps to get rid of them. Unless they're invasive species, they can get fucked.

are you a big spring cleaner? My camper's kept clean all year round.

do you switch over your wardrobe from cold weather to warm weather clothes? No, I don't have a big enough wardrobe to worry about having to change things over from season to season.

how about the house: does your decor change for the spring season? do you rearrange furniture? ... that would be a neat trick. No. I do put out a few season-appropriate decorations, or change out pillows/bedding, but not really a lot past that.

what color makes you think 'spring'? Every pastel shade; soft yellow, light green, pink, purple, orange.

describe your perfect spring outfit: Cargo shorts, henley, hiking boots -- done.

most adorable looking baby animal that you ever did see? Baby foxes are pretty cute, so are bears. I like deer, too. Most baby animals are adorable, except for a lot of birds until they fluff out.

what's a drink that makes you think of spring? Fruit juices.

how about a snack? In line with that, fruit.

#merrocktask

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Protector

Prompt: if prompts are still open: virgil as an adventurer who keeps accidentally befriending the monsters he’s supposed to be fighting (aka the other sides)? have a wonderful day! (and don’t feel any pressure to do this at all, and if your inbox is meant to be closed absolutely delete this ask)

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & deceit, some ptsd flashbacks but nothing super explicit

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic but Virgil’s definitely got some gay panic in there

Word Count: 8153

Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

Or: 5 times Virgil helps a monster he was supposed to kill, and 1 time the monsters help him

He sighs as he walks outside, grabbing the pair of gloves from the rickety tray and tugging them over his weathered hands. The front garden isn’t nearly as overgrown as it was when he found this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a long way to go before he can walk through without tripping over at least one overgrown bramble.

There’s a very persistent mint plant that’s slowly and surely trying to choke the flowers. Virgil bends down and starts to toil in the dirt.

“Come on,” he mutters, because he’s allowed to talk to plants when no one else is listening, “let’s stop doing that, you don’t have to be literally everywhere…”

The mint doesn’t protest verbally, because it’s a plant and plants can’t talk, but Virgil would swear it tries to hold onto the dirt as he pulls it up, holding his hand under the roots to catch the dirt.

“Alright, come on out, then, let’s just…put you in here.”

There’s a plot of dirt in a crate resting at his knee. He pats the soil. Fresh enough. The mint plant looks almost contrite as he tucks it into the corner.

“Next time I go see the townspeople I’m sure you’ll make some tea-shop owner very happy.”

The rest of the garden goes similarly. By the end, he’s filled the crate almost halfway when his hand catches something sharp.

The blade gleams as it flashes through the air. The child screams. His eyes widen—

“No,” he grits out, flattening his hands into the dirt, “no, it’s…it’s okay. We’re okay. It’s…hhhh.”

As he exhales, his shoulders slump, head bowing almost to his chest. The sounds of blades swinging through the air fade as the breeze rustles the leaves surrounding the cabin. The faint smell of mint cleanses his nose of blood.

Virgil opens his eyes and carefully moves his hand away from the rose.

“When’d you get here,” he mutters, carefully lifting the leaves to examine the stem, “don’t remember seeing you.”

The thorns snag on the little pieces of dirt hanging from his gloves. He glances around. There aren’t any other roses nearby, not that he can see. And it’s probably not very good for it to be growing in the middle of this choked soil patch.

He stands and makes his way back for the sharper trowel.

Something hisses.

His grip on the trowel doesn’t waver but he turns his head casually to glance over his shoulder.

Something crouches in the garden, just barely visible over the crate. A tuft of hair, not dark enough to be a bear cub, not light enough to be a squirrel. His arm relaxes against his side, trowel snug against his thigh.

“Hello,” he calls, watching closely, “is someone there?”

He blinks in surprise when a cat pokes its head over the crate.

“Uh, hey, there,” he manages, “uh…what’re you doing all the way out here?”

In response, the cat leaps elegantly over the crate. It’s a slim thing, but not underweight. Its fur is bluish-gray, almost like a stormcloud. As Virgil watches, the cat sneezes and its fur turns a dappled brown.

Virgil sighs. “So you’re the mischievous sprite I’ve been told to get rid of.”

The neighboring village has tried several times to make him seek and destroy the sprite’s nest. Apparently, it’s been causing all sorts of problems. Books going missing, glasses breaking in the middle of the night, jars of preserves broken into. Now, that’s not really what Virgil calls a punishable offense, but the villagers were insistent that he find it and fight it. He’s done one of those things.

Well, technically, the sprite found him.

“There’s not much here that would interest you,” Virgil says, gesturing at the unkempt garden, “but if you want to tell me what you do want, then—hey!”

The sprite, of course, doesn’t wait for him to actually finish inviting it inside. Instead, the door creaks as the cat darts between his legs and vanishes.

“Be careful,” he warns, “there are sharp things.”

He pushes open the door to see the cat perched on a precariously high shelf, sniffing at the books. He sighs.

“I can get those down if you want, it might be easier than doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now.”

The cat ignores him, pawing at the thick leather cover. He sighs and pulls off his gloves.

“Alright, just—wait a damn minute.”

Virgil grunts as he lifts the book of the shelf and carries it over to the table, opening it and waiting. The cat jumps up onto the table and sniffs at the pages. Its tongue laps at a word.

“You want more about that? Okay, let’s just—“

Yes, Virgil is talking to this sprite. He’s allowed to do that in his own home.

He turns the pages until the cat chirps.

“This? This what you want?”

The sprite stares at the page. It goes unnaturally still.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand up.

Then it breaks; the cat shakes itself off and jumps down.

“That’s it? You done now?”

The cat’s tail twitches gracefully as it struts back to the door. Virgil rolls his eyes and follows it out.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he mutters as he closes the door.

Something rough touches his hand. He looks down. The sprite looks back up at him and licks his hand again.

“…you’re welcome.”

The cat sneezes, its fur changing back into the deep bluish-gray. Without another look, it takes off, leaping effortlessly over the crate and disappearing into the woods.

Well, stranger things have happened in Virgil’s life.

Shaking his head, he gets back to his garden. He glances at the rose before deciding that, eh, what the hell, it can stay another day. He finishes filling the mint crate and sets it near the front door, ready for his trip to the village tomorrow.

“Ah, thank you!” The tea shop owner beams as he hands it over. “I’m sure this’ll be plenty.”

“I’ve got more than enough, I promise.”

“Well, since that sprite disappeared, I won’t be running out nearly as often!”

Virgil blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh, the sprite you got rid of!” She smiles. “Thank you kindly for that, it was ever so pesky.”

Virgil just nods.

————————————

Virgil opens his eyes and doesn’t quite reach for the dagger he keeps in the nightstand but it’s close.

“There’s a dog in my bed,” he mutters, “standing on top of me, drooling on my face.”

The dog just barks. And changes color.

He sighs. “Are you the same one from last time? Was the book not enough for you?”

The dog barks again, jumping off the bed and trotting to the kitchen, its nail clicking on the floor. Virgil lets his eyes close for a second before getting up and following it.

“Alright, the book it—whoa.”

The dog is, um. Not a sprite.

A huge mastiff elemental sits in the middle of his kitchen. It looks up from when it was nosing at what remained of a chicken carcass and rumbles. Virgil raises his hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says lowly, “even though you did break into my house and wake me up. What do you want?”

The elemental turns and moves through the house, out toward the woods. Virgil stuffs his feet in his boots and follows, tucking a slingshot and his knife into his pockets as he goes. The elemental moves through the trees with an inhuman grace, the very edges of the leaves it passes smoldering. A thin tendril of smoke wafts past Virgil’s nose.

“She’s still inside!” The guard shouts as Virgil wrenches his arm away. “I have to go get her!”

“Sir, you’ll die!”

“She’s still—“

The top of the house crashes down as—

Virgil closes his eyes and brings his kerchief up to his nose. He breathes deeply. Freshly baked bread. Honeysuckle. The slightly tacky smell of leather oil. Breathe in, breathe out.

When he opens his eyes again, the elemental has paused, glancing back at him.

“I’m coming,” he says quickly, “I’m coming. Keep going.”

He shrugs the old ghosts off his shoulders and follows.

The elemental leads him to a clearing. Underneath a large, dead white tree, there’s a small den of moss. Virgil’s breath catches in his throat.

The villagers had sent him a warning about a curse in the area. Fires had been going out. It had been impossible to keep warmth in the houses over the long winter nights. They’d been seeing figures in the smoke, sightings of, well, a mastiff. They’d contacted him to try and get it to leave.

Well, the mastiff elemental is here, under the tree, looking back and forth between Virgil and something he can’t see, buried in the moss.

“Is there something you wanna show me,” he asks softly, coming a little further into the clearing, “in there?”

The elemental whines. He walks forward until he catches sight of a stone in the middle of the bed of moss. It’s cracked in two.

“Is this what you wanted to show me,” he calls, shifting into a crouch, “this stone?”

The elemental huffs, nudging his hand. It reaches past him and tries to pick up the stone in its mouth, only for it to drop. It puts its nose down and whines.

“…was this your favorite stone to play with?” The elemental butts its head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it broke. How’d it happen?”

The elemental points its nose toward a jagged boulder in the corner of the clearing.

“Ah, I see.”

And you know what? Yeah, Virgil gets it. He’s dropped shit where he shouldn’t have dropped it before and it broke. What does it matter that this elemental is so upset over accidentally breaking its favorite toy that its warmth is so low the nearby villagers think it’s a curse?

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs, reaching out to cup the two halves of the rock in his hands, “it’s okay. This rock—good choice by the way, very good choice—it’s part of the Perse Mountains, right? So it’s susceptible to fire magic.”

He reaches into his slingshot bag and pulls out two small rocks. Using one on either side, he sandwiches the two halves of the broken rock together and holds it out to the elemental.

“Now breath on it.”

The elemental exhales carefully, bathing the rock in a steady stream of fire. Sure enough, in a few moments, thanks to Virgil holding it steady, the rock glows a soft yellow and reforges.

“That’s good.” He takes it carefully between the stones and rolls it around the moss, trying to cool it. “Okay. Try now.”

The elemental takes the rock gingerly between its teeth and yips.

Virgil chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.”

The elemental spins in a circle before turning back into the dog and licking Virgil’s cheek, barking excitedly.

“Okay, okay, you’re welcome, jeez.” He half-heartedly shoves the dog’s head away. “You’re getting slobber all over me!”

The dog pulls away and takes the rock into its mouth again, snuffling happily. Virgil shakes his head and gets up.

“If that’s all, then I’m gonna go home.” The dog licks his hand one more time. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

And if a fire is already burning when he gets back home, well, that’s just a surefire way to know there was never a curse for the villagers to worry about.

Get it? Surefire?

Shut up, he’s hilarious.

————————————

“Ah, Virgil!”

Virgil turns. The blacksmith waves at him from the market stalls. Dodging fruit carts and weaving his way through passers-by, he stops in front of the man and gestures to the new wares.

“Good season, Anbel?”

“Oh, the best!” Anbel gestures to the coin chest behind him. “You know how it is, goes in and out of season.”

Absentmindedly, Virgil rubs at the scars on his arms. “I know the feeling.”

“Anyways, I got that dagger you gave me to repair.”

Anbel reaches behind him and pulls the dagger out of a leather bag. He holds it up. The deep gouges in the blade are gone, the handle isn’t tarnished anymore, and it looks…good.

“Thank you, Anbel,” he says, reaching for it, “so how much?”

“No charge.”

“Come on.”

“No charge,” Anbel repeats, “not for you.”

Unbidden, a flush rises to his cheeks as he tucks the dagger into his belt. “Anbel…”

“Alright,” the blacksmith says, holding up his hands, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

Virgil sighs. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you assume that I did something?”

Virgil just gives him a look.

“…alright but this time it wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Anbel smacks his chest. “I’m serious, there’s something wrong in the woods outside of town.”

Virgil sobers, taking a step closer. “What is it?”

“Dunno. But my horses won’t go past a particular stretch of land and I need to be able to make the trip next moon.”

Virgil chews on his lip, thinking. “Did they run away or just refuse to go near?”

“Refused to go near.” Anbel shakes his head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re good mares.”

“Have any others reported anything?”

“Cindi had trouble getting through too.”

“Where is it?”

“Just before the bend in the river. Near the trees.”

Virgil sighs. “I’ll have a look.”

That’s how he finds himself wandering down the main road on the next cloudy day. He glances around to make sure there aren’t any other villagers nearby before he starts looking around. There’s a small grove of trees near the riverbank, a mound of rocks next to the bend in the road, and a rapid system rushing just out of sight.

Maybe the horses were scared of the rapids? They’ve been known to spook before. But no, Anbel makes this trip every season. If the horses were going to spook at the rapids, they’ve done it before.

Virgil frowns, coming to a stop in the middle of the grass between the road and the river. What could they’ve been startled by? There’s not enough space to hide anything here. The rocks are on the wrong side of the road. The river isn’t close or loud. And the trees aren’t close enough together to hide anything between them.

…between them.

Virgil holds very, very still.

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the trunks shifts.

He doesn’t move quickly, doesn’t draw his dagger, just lowers his eyes to the grass and turns, facing the trees, and takes a step backward. Then another. Then another. When he’s over ten yards away, he looks up.

“I mean you no harm,” he calls, “I have no wish to interfere. I was told that there was something that scared a few horses and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

The breeze rustles through the leaves.

“I am happy to leave you here,” he continues, risking a step closer, “but I know that…this is probably not where you’d like to be. This isn’t an especially damp forest.”

The trunk shifts again.

“If there’s something I can do to help—“ he risks another step— “I’d be happy to.”

There.

The trunk shifts and seems to shrink inside as a jaculi unwinds itself from around its base. It blinks lazily at him with amber eyes, golden scales rippling in the faint light from the cloudy sky.

“Hello,” Virgil waves, “can I—will you let me come closer?”

The jaculi hisses and lays its head near the ground.

“Thank you.” Virgil walks forward carefully, stopping a few feet away and crouching down. “Now, what brings you here? You look like you’re an awful long way from home.”

The jaculi hisses again, its head swiveling toward the river. Virgil looks. Across the bank, he can see a much denser forest and what looks like a storm brewing.

“You’ll be hurt,” he realizes, “if you try and stay here…”

The jaculi coils tighter around the tree trunk.

“How’d you get over here,” Virgil mutters, “you’d’ve needed to swim across…and that also won’t go well for you.”

There’s a soft rustling as the jaculi buries its tail in a pile of leaves near the base of the tree. Virgil glances over to see it rubbing its face halfheartedly against the bark.

His eyes widen.

About a month ago there had been a terrible storm. His little cabin had barely held together. He’d heard reports from the tavern owner that it’d blown one of the old trees right over.

“That’s how you got across,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “you climbed across the tree. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck.”

The jaculi blinks remorsefully at him.

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “okay, we can…we can figure this out.”

They’ll have to do it at night. There’s no way the jaculi will feel safe enough to move while it’s still light out. There’s an old barn that never finished construction just over the ridge. One of those timber pieces is probably long enough to get over the river. And he can make a bridge wide enough to support the jaculi’s weight.

He explains his plan to the jaculi, feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s allowed to explain what he’s doing to help someone, it’s fine, and says that he’ll be back. Promise.

The landowner gives him a weird look when he asks to borrow the timber.

“It’s too long for you to do anything with it,” he says, still helping Virgil load it onto a sled, “and much too tough for you to cut by yourself.”

“It’s fine just the way it is,” Virgil says, “and thank you.”

He waves Virgil off. “Keep it. You’re doing better than I am with it.”

Virgil’s back at the river bend by sundown. He can’t see the jaculi anymore—it’s probably hidden itself for safety—but he calls out when he arrives.

“I’m going to use these to make a bridge for you. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

The pieces of timber are ungainly, to make a colossal understatement, but Virgil grits his teeth and slides them out of the sled. He wades a little into the river and—

The water is so cold it burns. He has to keep going. It’s gaining on him. He’ll be safe in the water.

The growls get closer and his foot slips—

“No,” he mutters, “no, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m standing, I’m not hurt, I’m not drowning.”

He blinks down at his boots, the water swirling around his ankles. The timber in his hands shifts as he breathes. He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Okay…okay.”

He grits his teeth again and heaves, bringing the piece of timber with him. He wades further until it’s swirling around his waist. The piece of timber is just long enough to reach the other side. Onto the next one.

He gets the five of them stretched across the river just as the last of the light vanishes. Panting, he struggles back up onto the side of the river bank and splays out onto his back, eyes closed.

A low hiss sounds in his ear.

He just manages to avoid a scream.

“Hey,” he gasps instead, eyes flickering open to see the jaculi coiled up a few feet away, “uh…please don’t do that.”

The jaculi just blinks at him.

“Uh…why don’t you, uh…” Virgil holds a hand to his chest, trying to get his breathing back under control. “…try out the bridge?”

The jaculi slithers closer, flicking its tongue out against the timber. It looks back at Virgil.

“Go on,” he encourages, “you can do it.”

It slithers on, testing the boards against its weight.

Virgil holds his breath until the jaculi vanishes into the trees across the river banks, slipping further and further into the darkness.

Anbel leaves on his trip the next moon.

————————————

Honestly, when the kraken explodes out of Virgil’s well, he just sighs and fetches his bath so he can get the poor thing out.

“Easy,” he grumbles when the kraken squirms so much he almost drops it, “you may be a young one but you’re still heavy.”

Panting, he drops the tentacled beast into the full tub, his arms flying up to shield his face from the shower of sparkling drops. Judging by the happy trills and clicks, the kraken likes it in there. He shakes his head.

“So that’s why I’ve been asked to fight a monster in the sewers,” he muses, watching the kraken’s tentacles writhe giddily in the metal tub, “just how did you end up so far inland?”

The kraken, of course, does not deign to answer. Instead, the tentacles latch onto the side of the bath and threaten to tip the whole thing over.

“No, you idiot,” Virgil shouts, grabbing onto the other side and weighing it down. He winces when more water spills onto him, drenching him head to toe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

What the kraken has done, apparently, is get Virgil close enough so that its tentacles can haul Virgil into the tub.

“Hey!”

Virgil spits water out of his mouth, much to the kraken’s delight.

“That was rude.”

The kraken just chirps happily and wriggles around. Its tentacles stick to Virgil’s clothes and pull him through the water.

Virgil’s chest tightens.

One of the first things they teach you about krakens is never get in the water with them. The second thing they teach you about krakens is do not get in the water with them. The third thing they teach you about krakens is not to get too close to their tentacles so they don’t pull you into the water with them.

And yeah, this is Virgil’s bathtub, not a river, a tide pool, or the open sea, but you can drown in an inch of water.

Virgil presses his back up against the rim of the tub. The kraken seems to realize something’s wrong and settles, burbling softly.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil says shakily, “I, uh, what’re you doing here?”

The kraken twitches a few tentacles and more water slops over the edge.

“Right…” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay, well, uh, I would rather not sit here and soak through all of my clothes, so I’m just going to—“

As soon as he tries to move, the kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg and tugs.

“Okay, okay, not leaving, not leaving, um—“ Virgil reaches down and takes a handful of the grass. Worst comes to worst, he can tip the tub and get the kraken back in the well.

The kraken lets go as soon as he settles back in the water. Virgil looks at the creature carefully.

There’s a mark on its head. Discoloration, probably, but still obvious. As he watches, the kraken burbles to itself and starts making little ripples in the surface of the water with its tentacles. After a moment, it starts gently pushing the water towards Virgil.

The water laps at Virgil’s knees in little waves, not enough to wet him anymore—not that it would matter at this point—but enough to bounce back and make more patterns. The kraken trills softly and keeps doing it.

Does it…want to play?

Slowly, Virgil lifts his hands up and starts to push the water back. The kraken, realizing that Virgil is indeed committing to the idea that he is going to play with this kraken, trills louder and uses more of its tentacles to move the waves bigger.

“Yeah? Is that how it works?” Virgil moves his hands. “Like that?”

The kraken chirps.

He’s not really sure how long they stay there, playing with the water, but it’s long enough for the sun to go down in the sky and Virgil to get more than a little chilly in the water.

When the kraken notices that the water is rippling more around Virgil and he’s not moving his hands any faster, it wraps a tentacle around his ankle and tugs.

“What? You tired?” The kraken leans its head against the side of the tub. “Okay. Well, I don’t know how long you can stay in here—“

He cuts himself off when the kraken jabs a tentacle toward the well.

“You wanna go back in there? It’s so small and cramped, and the sewers in town aren’t much better.”

The kraken insists.

Sure. Why not.

Virgil grunts as he lifts the kraken back into the bucket, carefully lowering the creature down into the well. He hears one more trill before splashing sounds indicate that the creature is gone.

Funnily enough, reports of the sewer beast vanish overnight.

When Virgil wakes up panting from a nightmare of ropes around his neck, the glass of water on his bedside table is perfectly cold.

————————————

Virgil curses as the sole of his boot slips. He just manages to catch himself against the cliffside before splitting his knee on a harsh spire of rock. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself onward.

The cliffs frown over him as he makes his way up the pass. The rocks crumble threateningly as his boots crunch, crunch, crunch. The sword on his hip feels too heavy. He curses, tugging his glove the rest of the way onto his hand.

He never was one for dragon hunts.

The message came in a week ago. Some poor terrified soul had come screaming into the town, ranting about dragons, missing people, curses, the whole lot. Virgil had taken up the call and set off, promising to get to the bottom of it.

He never promised to hurt anything.

Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and he bites back another curse. There’s a cave up ahead, he can see it just over the next ridge, he’ll rest there.

In all honesty—and he can be honest, now there’s no one else around—he hates these kinds of missions. Finding something is one thing. Going to get something is one thing. Rescuing someone is one thing.

This feels like something else.

There’s something in his boot. There’s a wrinkle in the thinnest shirt he’s wearing. The sword belt is digging into his hip. The voices in his head won’t shut the fuck up.

The cave is right there.

He all but collapses to his knees as soon as he makes it inside, just as the first drops of rain land on the back of his armor. He breathes a sigh of relief, heading further into the cave, into the safety, out of the storm.

It’s quiet here.

He takes the knife out of its loop on his belt and sets about setting up a fire. There’s a reasonable stash of dry wood here, probably enough to keep him going throughout the night. He makes a small bundle and lights it, blowing on it until it catches and burns merrily.

Shrugging off his pack, he leans it up against the wall and starts to dig out the dried meat. He tears off a long strip with his teeth and chews slowly, staring into the flames.

There’s something nice about fire. Not all fire—he’s got the burns to prove that—but this fire. Controlled fire. He sits back on his hands, brushing aside the eggshells to lean against the cave wall.

Controlled fire is…justified chaos. It’s strange, to think of chaos as being justified. But that’s what it is. A controlled burn. Snapping and sparking amidst a small mound of wood, warm. Safe. It’s strange to think of fire as safe, too.

Virgil sits back, finishing off his meal and closing his eyes. The fire is very, very warm. Much warmer than he would expect for just a small campfire. And a little irregular, too. It comes in waves, pants, almost.

…wood, eggshells…

Okay, look.

Look.

Virgil’s tired, okay?

It’s not like this is what normally happens to him on hunts.

He knows what he’s doing.

He does!

It’s fine.

This is fine.

This is so utterly fine right now.

But…okay, yeah, maybe Virgil’s not been paying as much attention as he should be. And maybe he’s fighting down a panic attack right now. And maybe he’s frozen in fear to the floor of this cave and not sure how he’s survived this long.

Whatever.

Virgil cracks an eye open.

“…hey, there, dragon.”

Surprisingly enough, his head does not get immediately bitten off. Instead, the dragon looks at him, nostrils puffing hot air into his face. The smell of dank cavern air mixes with what Virgil really hopes isn’t decomposing human.

“Um…fancy seeing you here?”

The dragon huffs louder, still staring into Virgil’s soul. He risks a glance over its shoulder to make sure that yes, this is the only dragon in this cave, there aren’t suddenly going to be five of them. He spies the scales trailing further into the darkness, muscular legs, long, powerful tail. The dragon growls, snapping his eyes back.

“Hey, uh—didn’t mean to invade your cave.” Virgil scoots backward. “That was absolutely my fault. I can, uh—well, I can’t really promise to leave you alone, but I, uh…rain check?”

As if on cue, thunder booms from outside.

Shit.

A lower growl sounds from the dragon as its mouth curls up. Wow, those teeth are long…

“Can you, uh—so I know that this is a pretty big request, considering I just, you know, invaded your cave, but uh—maybe don’t eat me?”

Judging by the growl, that’s a no.

“Okay, I, uh—“ Virgil risks a glance around. His fire is still burning. Maybe he can at least get the dragon to back up before he—

He pauses.

Near the fire, the dragon’s leg looks…wet. Its scales are stained with a dark splotch coming from somewhere higher up. As he watches, the dragon shifts its weight and it gets wetter.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, “you’re—oh, god, you’re hurt.”

He looks back up. The dragon’s snarl doesn’t quite soften, but its mouth relaxes a little.

“I’ve got salve and bandages in my pack,” he says cautiously, “if you let me get them, I can—I can help?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves his hand to his pack, keeping the other one raised as he opens the flap and takes out the bottle and the bandages.

“Can I have a look, please? I’m just gonna…”

The dragon huffs cautiously as Virgil turns, moving around its body to crouch next to its injured leg. Now that he’s closer, he can see what’s happened.

A shard of metal is lodged in the soft space between two of the scales. Every time the dragon moves, it shifts, spilling more and more blood. Judging by how loud the dragon is breathing, it must really hurt.

“You poor thing,” he mutters, “how long has this been here?”

No response.

“We gotta get it out,” he says instead, looking for something he can use, “if we leave it in you might get infected, or…something else bad will happen.”

He pulls a pair of pliers from his pack and the dragon snorts.

“Easy, easy—“ the dragon’s eyes go wide at the glint of the flame off the metal— “hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna use these to get that metal outta you, yeah?”

It seems an hour before the dragon calms, gingerly stretching out its leg so Virgil can see the shard. Taking a deep breath, he hooks the pliers around the edge of the metal.

“Ready on three, okay?” He grits his teeth. “One…two…three!”

He yanks.

The dragon roars as the metal shard comes out in his hands, the side release almost sending him toppling back into the fire. Quickly, he discards the tools and reaches out to soothe the dragon, petting its scales and hushing it gently.

“Shh, shh, it’s out now, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you anymore.” He runs a hand over the dragon’s heaving back. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m here to help.”

It seems to calm the dragon, its breathing slowly but surely calming down as Virgil continues to speak softly to it. Honestly, if it were this easy to calm himself down, he would have a lot fewer problems.

“I’ve got to clean it,” he says after a minute, “just to make sure you don’t get infected. Then I’ll be done, okay?”

The dragon swivels its massive head around, looking at the wound, then back at Virgil. It heaves a great sigh and its chin comes to rest on the floor, staring at him. Guess that’s as close to permission as he’s gonna get.

“Thank you. This, uh, this may sting a bit.”

He barely gets a flinch as he starts cleaning the cut. Dragons. Once he’s wrapped the dragon’s leg as best he can, he turns to peer at the shard of metal he pulled out of the wound. He holds it up, examining it in the firelight.

It looks…wrong.

It’s too thick to be just something that happened to get in there, but too jagged to be something natural. It looks like it snapped off of something, but it’s not the right shape to be an arrowhead or a piece of a building. So what…?

He turns when the dragon starts to move.

It heaves itself to its feet, testing out its weight on all four legs. When the pain doesn’t shoot through, it lumbers off, further into the cave. Its head dips down, out of sight for a moment, before it turns and starts back toward the fire, dragging something in its mouth.

Virgil’s eyes widen when another bag is dropped in front of him.

“Is this…is this someone else’s?” He lays his fingers carefully on its surface. “Did…did you…did someone else come here before me?”

The dragon huffs.

With trembling fingers, he flips open the bag. There’s a good store of meat in here, a change of clothes, something for armor, it’s a provisions bag. One side has a little loop attached with nothing inside.

“…someone tried to stab you,” he realizes in horror, looking back up at the dragon. “Someone tried to fight you but couldn’t. So they stabbed you in the leg.”

His fists clench.

“They hurt you.”

Another huff. Then the dragon nudges the bag toward him again.

“Is there something else in here?” Virgil starts sorting through the possessions. He lays the clothes to one side, the bottles to another. When he gets to the food, the dragon leans forward and snorts, blowing hot air into his face.

“This? This is what you want me to get?” He looks at it. It’s just more dried meat. It, uh, it actually looks a little better than his. “Are you hungry?”

The dragon snorts at Virgil’s pack, then at the food in his hands.

“…are you…giving this to me because I’m still hungry?”

Another huff, longer this time, and the dragon’s head comes to rest on the floor, eyes staring up at him.

Virgil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Well, that’s—thank you.”

The dragon rumbles as he starts to eat, eyes blinking lazily. Virgil tries not to mind too much.

And…honestly? It’s not that bad. He’s had worse audiences when he’s just trying to eat. The dragon switches its tail every now and then, huffing gently to keep the fire going. It’s…nice.

Virgil finishes eating as much of the food as he wants and tucks the rest away. He takes a moment to just…look.

“The other person,” he says eventually, “the one that hurt you…they—I think they wanted to kill you.”

The dragon stares at him like he just said the sky is blue.

“No, really, I—I don’t think they wanted anything else.” He shakes his head. “We’re not near enough to any villages for that to be the reason, there aren’t any traveling paths through here, there’s…there’s no other reason. I think they just wanted to kill you.”

The cave falls quiet as the rain pours outside.

“…I think they wanted me to kill you too.”

Virgil’s chest aches. Something in his right hand tingles.

“Why do they always want me to kill you?”

And he’s not just talking about the dragon now.

It’s always the same.

Fight this. Kill that. Rescue us from this. Save us from that.

What if you’re not the ones that need to be saved?

Virgil lets his chin drop to his chest and sighs. His sword hangs heavy at his hip. His hands tremble in the burning light of the fire.

“I hate to impose,” he manages through a sluggish tongue, “but…may I stay? Just until the storm passes?”

A low thud makes him look up. The dragon shifts, its tail curled in a half-circle around Virgil and the fire. It huffs softly.

“Thank you.”

————————————

Sometimes he has sleepless nights. Drifts in blackness and emptiness until it’s time to get up. Or he’ll close his eyes for what feels like an instant before he wakes up the next day.

Sometimes he has restless nights. Can’t sleep, can’t manage to get more than a few minutes of tense darkness before his eyes shoot open and he has to reassure himself that’s he can sleep.

Sometimes he has good nights. Dreams of sunshine and warmth and the safety of a hot drink between his palms. Closing his eyes and just hearing the peaceful hum of his cabin.

Most of the time he has nightmares. The good ones are just mixes of monsters he can’t see coming, kills he wishes he didn’t have to make. Losing someone he should’ve been able to save.

This one’s a bad one.

Jaws close down on his arm. The creature whips its head back and forth, shaking him like a rag doll. He grits his teeth and tries to—

His eyes widen as the burning roof collapses on top of him. A heavy beam falls onto his chest and he can’t move, he’s going to—

The cliff face collapses under him and he plummets, fingers scrabbling for a hold against the crumbling face. He can’t reach, he can’t reach—

“….shut up, you’re gonna wake him up!”

“If you stop shouting, then he won’t.”

“Shh, the both of you.”

“This is certainly working, I think we should all keep talking like this.”

“Oh, don’t you start!”

“Hey, hey, shh! He’s waking up!”

Virgil is waking up, as a matter of fact, and he also has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He does know there are at least five people in this room with him though. That’s either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

He can feel rocks under his head. Is he still in the cave, then? How other people…here? Where’s the dragon?

“Hey,” one of the voices says, “are you okay? You kinda, uh, well, you weren’t looking very good for a little bit there.”

“Back up, you morons, you’re gonna scare him!”

“We’re not scary, shut up.”

“You’re scary.”

“All of you be quiet,” the first voice says, before it softens again. “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

Well, I’ve definitely made worse decisions.

He wholeheartedly concurs with that thought when the first thing he sees is genuinely one of the most attractive people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting face to face.

“There you are,” the beautiful person says, “good morning. Is your head alright?”

“Uh—“ not now gay panic— “uh?”

“Back up, Logan,” another person says, “let me see.”

Logan—great name, sure, why not—moves out of the way, and oh god there’s two of them.

“Hi!” The other attractive person leans over Virgil and gods— “are you hurt? You looked a little upset while you were sleeping.”

“You—“ Virgil does not squeak— “you watched me while I was sleeping?”

“Well, you fell asleep and Roman got worried, so—“

“I’m sorry,” Virgil interrupts, “who—who are you?”

The person in front of him tilts his head. “Don’t you recognize us?”

I would absolutely fucking remember meeting you, and I do not.

“Patton,” Logan says, “he’s a mortal. He won’t—we are not as we were when he met us.”

The butterflies in Virgil’s stomach ice.

These…these are creatures. Is he—what supernatural force did he piss off?

Logan smiles at him and winks. First off, rude, but—

Virgil squints. One of the man’s eyes is a deep bluish-grey. The other one—the one he just winked with—is a dappled brown.

Oh.

“…you’re the sprite.”

“I am,” he says, “my name is Logan.”

Something nudges his shoulder. Virgil looks over to see Patton offering him a round stone.

“…the mastiff elemental?”

“Patton, actually.” Patton smiles and gestures over Virgil’s other shoulder.

Why are there five of them and why are they all so pretty?

“Can you guess who they are?”

One of them rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a perfect use of time that isn’t at all a waste.”

“Okay, so you’re the jaculi.”

He smirks. “Janus.”

The one near the entrance to the cave just cackles and bounces on the balls of his feet. Almost like…

“You made me spill the bathtub over my whole yard!”

He cackles louder. “Yes, I did!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. He’s not fond. He’s not.

“Remus,” Logan scolds, “you said you were just going into the well.”

“He took me out!”

“Yeah, because that thing is cramped as hell.”

“Aww,” Patton coos, “how sweet.”

“Well,” the last one says, smiling softly from one of the darker corners of the cave, “we knew that, didn’t we?”

Virgil turns, looking hard into the darkness. The last person stands, walking over slowly, leaning most of his weight on one leg. As he moves into the light, he sits down on the log and reaches down. Virgil’s eyes widen as he gets handed the last of the dried meat.

“You’re still hungry,” the person says softly, “I can tell.”

Virgil cannot eat right now, thank you very much. Instead, his eyes are fixed on his bandage, still tied sloppily around the person’s leg.

“You’re the dragon.”

“I am. But you can call me Roman.”

“…does it still hurt?”

“Oh, this?” He smiles and moves his leg. “A little. But it’s almost better,” he finishes, reaching over to gently bump Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks to you.”

Yes, hello? Virgil would like for someone to explain what’s going on, please.

“I’m sure you’ve got questions,” Logan says, also sitting down, “and we can do our best to answer them. But first…are you alright?”

Uh, no. “Why do you think I’m not?”

“You’re breathing faster than most mortals do at rest, your face is more flushed than it was, and you were troubled while you slept.”

…shhh…

“I, um…I was having a nightmare.”

“Ooh,” Remus says, plopping down on the floor with his chin propped up on his hands, “was it a bad one?”

“…you could say that.”

“Remus,” Patton chides, “don’t.”

Remus pouts but hushes, reaching out to toy with a stick. Patton rolls the stone between his hands.

“You did seem upset,” Janus says, “can we help?”

“H-help?”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, help. Or is that not a thing most mortals do?”

Um. Well. Uh, hang on.

“Are you just going to be mean to him,” Logan sighs, “or are we actually going to make an effort to be friendly with the person we have decided to befriend?”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” Patton nods to Virgil. “Before he decides we’re all mad?”

Roman sighs. “Virgil? Are you still hungry?”

“Huh? No, no, I’m…I’m okay.”

He smiles. “Good. This…this might sound a bit strange, but…try and keep up?”

“As weird as it might sound, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Roman blinks in surprise, a small smile coming over his face. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, you must have some idea of what I do for a living.”

Roman’s smile only grows. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

Logan clears his throat. Virgil turns, seeing the book from his cabin appear in Logan’s hands.

“Did you—is that my—“

“I can assure you,” Logan says softly, “that I did not steal your book from you. Rather, this is a copy, generated from the information I was able to learn.”

“What did you want?”

“We were cursed.” Logan closes the book with a snap. “Cursed to take on forms that were hated or feared or simply a nuisance.”

Virgil’s stomach drops. Cursed?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “that sounds…awful.”

“It was,” Janus mutters, “completely inconvenient and an utter waste of time.”

“You say like it wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, right, it was absolutely only my fault.”

“You two,” Patton huffs, “enough.”

Virgil’s still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Wait, hang on, so—you were cursed? Were? Past tense?”

“Well,” Janus gestures to himself, “I don’t exactly look like a snake anymore, do I?”

He raises a finger when Virgil opens his mouth.

“Careful, dear.”

Virgil snaps his mouth shut.

Roman rolls his eyes and places a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You broke the curse, my friend. Or at least…you helped us break it.”

“But how? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the bandage. “You don’t consider this doing anything?”

“Or this?” Patton holds up the stone.

Logan taps the cover of the book. “You helped us. When you had no reason to, past the goodness of your heart.”

“We would’ve been hurt,” Janus says quietly, “or hunted without you. They certainly would’ve killed me.”

“And me,” Remus says.

Patton nods. “And me.”

Roman simply taps his leg. Right. They already tried to kill him.

Virgil blinks. “So…me helping broke the curse?”

“You caring broke the curse,” Logan corrects gently, “and, well, when you...when you seemed to be in need, we wanted to care for you too.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“So,” Roman says, smiling up at Virgil, “how can we help?”

“Help? With—with what?”

“The nightmares.”

“Oh,” Virgil mumbles, averting his eyes, “you, uh, can’t. Not really. They’re not a curse or magical or anything. They’re just nightmares.”

“But there must be something we can do.”

He shakes his head sadly. Believe him, if there were anything five unfairly attractive people could do, he’d tell them. But there isn’t. “They come with the job. There’s not—no one can do anything.”

He can practically hear Patton frowning. “That’s not very fair. You do so much for others, don’t they—don’t they care?”

Virgil shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

“So take what it won’t give you.” Janus folds his arms. “They don’t care for you. Even though you care for them.”

“They do care for me,” Virgil argues, “they’re kind. They help me.”

“Not with this,” he shoots back, “not with what you really need.”

“You protect everyone,” Roman says softly when Virgil opens his mouth to argue again, “who protects you?”

Who protects the protector?

“…no one.” Virgil shakes his head. “No one but me.”

“Well, you’re right. That doesn’t seem fair at all.” Logan sets the book aside and it vanishes into the darkness of the cave. “Perhaps we should endeavor to fix that.”

“F-fix it?” Virgil’s head jerks up. “How?”

“Let us protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Do keep up,” Janus sighs, but he’s pretty sure he can see him smiling over there, “at the very least, we have magic. That should offer you something.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Roman says quickly, “but…thought we’d offer. Think it over.”

…well, if ‘protection’ involves seeing them more often, Virgil can definitely work with that.

“While I think it over, will you tell me how you got cursed?”

“So it was entirely Janus’s fault—“

“It was not!”

“Yes, it was!”

As Remus and Janus start arguing, Virgil smiles and leans back against the wall of the cave. Roman waves his hand and the cave wall warms, almost cradling Virgil. Logan settles on his other side, weight solid against his arm.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

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#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

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gojology · 3 years

Text

Jealousy. (3/3)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS AND I RLLY LOVED HOW THE ENDING WENT BUT IF U WANT ME TO WRITE A LITTLE EXTRA OF WHAT HAPPENS AFTERWARDS JUST SPAM MY INBOX K THX ENJOY!!!! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Teen! Gojo x Gender Neutral Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2286 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Cursing. ALL CHARACTERS HERE ARE AGED DOWN FROM PRESENT ANIME/MANGA INTO WHEN THEY WERE TEENAGERS. 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Your plan with Geto finally unfolds, and Geto thinks with the information he has gathered, that it’s a perfect time for you to confess to Gojo. Shoko answers your suspicions about her and Gojo before Geto crashes the scene, telling you last second that he had set you up with Gojo for a confession, you had almost no time to prepare. Before you could even hold a proper scolding, Gojo arrives, it’s time to confess. “Okay, here’s the plan.” Geto slapped his hand onto the table, handing you a fizzy drink. You watched the bubbles rapidly float upwards. Inside, there’s various fruits, strawberries, kiwis, some lemons for added fanciness. “(Y/N), the drink is not what we’re focusing on.” he snaps his fingers, you glance up, he’s shaking his head and smiling. “Sorry, uh, I’m not good with serious conversations.” you twiddle with your thumbs, studying the table. Your fingers itch for your something to fidget with, the whole reason why you two met up was awkward anyways. You had conspired with Geto to make Gojo jealous. Having already tried being subtle, you had eyed him across the room, flirted with him, and he still hadn’t realized. You had bought him free stuff whenever you went to the store, and once again, he never really realized. Geto did, though. He always raised his eyebrows when you handed Gojo a bag of kikufuku from his favorite shop, or if you got him a stupid cheap trinket from the night markets. The point being, you were much more affection with Gojo then anyone else. Even when you tried to conceal this jealousy, the cracking point was when you had found out that Gojo had gone out with Geto the night before and had sex with a few random girls. You had chewed Geto and Gojo both out, while Gojo was yawning and tousling his hair, boredom evident in his face, Geto examined every single little thing about your body language. How your face seemed to drop a little more when you talked about Gojo, and how you seemed so self conscious when you talked about the girls that he had had fun with. He had approached you, with no time for small talk. His arms crossed, he blew a strand of hair away from his face, looking at you. He had oh so casually asked you if you had a thing for Satoru, and here you were now. Just short of having a heart attack from sheer panic. “Hey. Don’t be scared.” placing one of his hands on your shoulder, he smiles. “I know Gojo, did I ever tell you how we compared dick sizes once? Wild, I’ve also had a few foursomes-” You retch, and Geto snickers. “Moving on, that guy gets jealous EASILY. He’s also as dumb as a rock, probably can’t define the word love.” he looks down, the easygoing expression on his face wiped off, replaced with a rather saddened one, “but I guess he hasn’t experienced the feeling a lot.” He looks back up at you, brushing his bangs behind his ear. “This brings me to Operation: Make Gojo Jealous Because That’s The Only Way I Know How To Get Him To Realize If He Likes You or Not!” He leans over the table, looking left and right before leaning into your ear. “What do we say if Gojo doesn’t like you back?” Your stomach twists as the words, “Gojo doesn’t like you back.” echoed in your mind, you sigh. “That’s okay Gojo, and whatever your opinion is, I will respect.” “Perfect, if you have any objections, tell me now.” A deafening silence settles between you two, he chuckles again. “Also, Shoko’s smart as shit. She can probably catch on, or maybe she already knows that you have a crush on him. Maybe she’ll play into this, fair warning. Alright, ready? Listen close.” He stops leaning over the table, sitting back down normally. “We start spending a lot more time with each other, as in, we spend more than half of our day with one another.” you open your mouth to complain, as Geto would be sure to annoy you knowing that you had to spend half the fucking day with you, but he shushes you up with his finger. “I’m a good stalker, so I’ll be watching Gojo. If he doesn’t have a crush on you, he’ll be just fine. Albeit, just a bit lonelier, because his best bud is ditching him for you, maybe talk to Shoko or some shit. If he DOES in fact have a crush on you, he’ll watch our every move. He doesn’t hide his anger very well, so I’ll be able to tell.” “You’re a good WHAT?” “Shut up, and I have everything planned out. We’ll probably have a celebration at this park after we get back from wiping out all the curses from this village, and by then I’ll have enough information to see if that’s a good day to confess to him. Understand?” You nod, shocked that he had literally planned this all out. He gets up, nodding at you and waving, giving you a playful wink before leaving the room. — Here you were now, sitting on the picnic blanket. Shoko digs her hand into her pocket, pulling out a few cigarettes. You eye them as she whips out a lighter, delicately placing the cigarette into her mouth and lighting it. Taking in a deep breath, you watch her exhale, a hazy cloud of gray swirled around into the air. You never took Shoko as a person to smoke, but your gut wrenches. Does Gojo like smokers? He seemed interested in Shoko, and maybe Shoko was trying to confess with him before you and Geto had crashed the party. Nervously shoving the marble in your ramune down, you stutter, Shoko glanced up. Her lukewarm eyes stared into yours. “Have a question, honey?” her cigarette between her pointer and index, she coughs before placing it back into her mouth. “Uh, yeah. A-actually.” A pleasantly surprised face covered her calm expression, looking at you with curiosity, she nods, telling you to continue. “...Do you have a crush on Gojo?” She looks at you, bewildered, before pulling the cigarette out of her mouth. Chortling turning into coughing, she spits into the grass. “Oh NO honey, I can’t even picture dating a guy, actually, especially not that monkey. What made you think that?” Waves of relief rushed over your body, and you realize how stiffly you were sitting up. Relaxing your shoulders, you take a swig out of your ramune. “Uh, I-I don’t know. I saw you two u-uh... Really close...” Shoko smiles, her eyes crinkle at the side as she did. Scoffing a little, she places the cigarette back between her lips, taking a deep inhale before exhaling. “We were talking about shit, no bother, oh hey, Geto’s back.” You stare at where she’s pointing, Geto’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets. He had a toothy grin on his face, and strands of hair strayed from his bun as the wind whipped against him. “(Y/N)! I have news~!” he screams, approaching the picnic with long strides. Your heart jumps out of your chest, did he talk for you instead, and got Gojo to confess? “I set you and Gojo up!” he sang, sitting down with a heavy thud and digging his hand into the picnic basket, sticking his tongue out as he searched for snacks. He looks at you sadistically, thoroughly enjoying the shocked expression on your face. “WHAT?” Shoko snickers a little, before changing it into a cough as you glare at her. “Yep, he’s coming back now, so you better prepare!” yanking out a snack, he peers down. “Fuck yeah! Dried squid!” “ARE YOU GOING TO FUCKING IGNORE HOW YOU JUST SET UP MY CONFESSION WITH GOJO SO CASUALLY?” He looks up at you, sharing a look with Shoko before both burst into laughter. “(Y/N) being angry is a fucking knee slapper, isn’t it Shoko?” ‘Who the fuck uses the phrase knee slapper, Geto?” Ignoring Shoko’s sarcastic comment, Geto stared up at your figure. “Anyways, go for it sweetheart.” Geto calmly responds, Shoko still laughing. You splutter, cursing Geto under your breath and everyone under his family tree for raising such a child. “Aw hey now (Y/N), no cursing me! I know you’re doing it, and hey look, here he comes! Shoo lovebirds!” he waves his hand. Shoko, in an attempt to calm down, pulled her knee into her chest and giggled into her arms. You match your line of sight with his, Gojo’s lanky build was quickly approaching. Instead of his usually scowling face, he seemed more relaxed. “Yo.” he scratched the back of his neck as he walked up to the group, studying the grass. “Sorry for blowing up.” Geto stood up, patting Gojo’s back. “There there, truthfully no one gives a fuck! Actually, I don’t know if you remember but (Y/N) over here requested your audience, bye bye now!” shoving Gojo in your direction, he stumbled a little, before scrambling and placing his hands on your shoulder. ‘Sorry.” he murmured, a light blush crept up to his cheeks. “had to try to grab onto something or else I fall flat on my face.” You found your cheeks also getting warm, you touched your skin, thankful that he was looking in another direction. “Yeah. No problem.” “Fuck off, you two! Flirt somewhere else!” hollered Geto. “OKAY, HOLY SHIT!” hollered Gojo back, rolling his eyes before he looked down at you. “Geto told me you wanted to talk to me about something.” Your breath hitched, and you nodded nervously, he cleared his throat, arm snaking around your waist. Shocked by the sudden realization that he had his arm wrapped around your fucking waist, your heart was now pounding out of your chest, eyes wide. “The plot thickens.” Shoko lazily laid her head down on Geto’s shoulder, he grinned. “That’s my fucking child right there.” — Gojo walked with you on a long, narrow path. Trees as a sort of canopy hung over your head, rustling with the wind. No people in sight. He cleared his throat again, looking down at you. “Uh, here looks really nice. Pretty peaceful, and there’s seating.” he gestured to a bench with his unoccupied hand. You nod as he pulled you a bit closer into him, before letting go. A whine almost leapt out of your throat before he slammed your hands over your mouth, for all you knew he wasn’t going to ask you out, and rather ask you directions to the nearest bathroom or some shit. “Hey, sit down.” Snapping out of your daze, you nodded, sitting down and staring at the opposite direction of wherever he faced. You wished you had the courage to stare at his face, to look at his sunglasses while he ruffled his snow white locks. His defined collarbones, and his chiseled jawline and... “So! What did you wanna talk about, (Y/N)?” you whipped your head to stare at him, jumping a little as you did so. “Um.” FUCK, what were you supposed to say? “...Lovely weather we’re having?” Gojo scoffed, leaning towards you. He really did know how to work a person. Breathing heavier then you were when he pulled you closer to him, you looked at him, anticipating whatever he would say. “I know that’s... Not what you were asking to talk to me for. Let me guess, you have a crush on Geto and you want to ask me how to get him to like you?” ‘What! No!” you responded exasperatedly, hiding your face with your hands. “I... Don’t have a thing for Geto!” “What was that?” Gojo paused, before pulling at your sleeve. “Hey, I couldn’t hear you.” joking teasingly, he fixed his askew sunglasses. “I DON’T HAVE A THING FOR GETO!” He jumped back, rubbing his temples and sighing before chuckling. “You didn’t have to be that fucking loud! Holy shit that hurt my ears.” rubbing them, he looked at you with a laugh. You noted that his friendly behavior was back in business, as opposed to the serious one he had adopted as soon as you started hanging out with Geto. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed as his laughter died out, both of you silent. “Then... Who do you have a thing for?” Gojo whispered breathily, crossing his legs. You opened your mouth, about to respond with every bit of power that you had left inside of your already frazzled body that he was the one that you had a thing for, and the one you had a thing for for multiple fucking months. You closed it before you could, taking a deep breath in. “Hey.” leaning closer into your face, you swore you could count every hair strand that he had. He breathed heavily as well, and his chest heaved, he placed a hand onto your shoulder. “It’s okay, you can tell me.” You shook your head, looking away once again. He cursed to himself, was he too straight forward? Or were you that stupid, did he have to confess himself? No, he didn’t want to damage his pride. He wanted you to confess, to tell him how much you loved him, and the things you wanted to do together. But what if you were going to tell him that you had a thing for Shoko or some shit? “Come on, (Y/N), I won’t judge you.” ‘No!” you shook your head furiously again, “you’re going to judge me!” “I wont, come on, spill!” You bit your lip, twisting yourself to look at him, tears dawning on your eyes. Diving headfirst into his chest, you whined. Fuck it all. “I like you, Gojo.” “...What?” he wrapped his arms around your head, looking down at you sniffling on his t-shirt. “I like you, I like you, I like you DAMN IT!” you whined, banging your fists against his chest weakly. “Woah, hey there little baby.” he pushed your head gently off of him, kissing your red, sweating forehead gently. “I like you too, (Y/N).

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Christmas Specials: Jake and Kauri

Honestly, this is mostly just some genuinely sharp pining and yearning.

“Merry Christmas.”

The box, small and light, drops onto the kitchen table with a sound more like a tap than a thud. Jake blinks down at it, cheerfully wrapped in a bright cacophony of rainbow colors in vaguely ornament-like shapes. Jake sets his coffee mug slowly down, steam curling up into the air, particles of dust briefly visible floating through the beams of early morning light.

Kauri hasn’t slept, and it’s clear - his hair is still mussed, he’s wearing clothes from the night before, that particular look of shadowed satisfaction he has after a night well-wasted. Red-rimmed eyes and the slightest wince at the sun coming in through the curtains, and still… still, he’s Kauri, and Jake’s glad to see him.

“Not Christmas yet,” Jake offers, carefully casual. If his eyes are on Kauri’s too long, neither one of them mention it. Kauri smells like cigarette smoke and another man’s cologne, and he doesn’t smoke so Jake knows that means he’s been with someone who does. “You’re up early, Kaur.”

“At what point,” Kauri asks, with the air of a philosopher posing a question for the ages, “Does it stop being up late and begins being up early?”

“When it’s 7 o’clock in the fucking morning, you’re pretty safely at up early. What brought you by?”

Kauri shrugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The house creaks around them, ancient bones settling into the foundation. There’s the telltale squeak of the spot just outside the bathroom door, and then the sound of water rushing through pipes. Chris, in the shower, Jake thinks. Antoni steps around the spot on the floor that squeaks. Leila moved out, and they haven’t gotten anyone new for her old room yet.

“I just decided to,” Kauri says, yawning, and something about the way his eyes close makes him look like a sleepy kitten, rumpled and ready to simply list to the side until he collapses. “Had this to give you.”

“I have something for you, too, but I haven’t wrapped it.”

Kauri blinks, pouring peppermint mocha creamer into the coffee cup and topping it off with plain milk. He turns and leans back against the counter, sipping, and the way he smiles a little at the taste of the coffee makes Jake’s chest twist in an anxiety he can name but can’t afford to linger on. “You got me a present?”

Kauri sounds so fucking surprised that it hurts.

Do you really think so little of yourself?

“Of course I did. So did Chris, and Nat, and Antoni.”

Kauri lets out his breath, disbelieving, shaking his head with a half-grin. “I don’t know why. I can’t have anything that doesn’t fit in my backpack.”

“I mean, you could stay-”

“No.” Kauri cuts him off. “No. I can’t.”

“Fair. But I think everyone got you stuff that you can carry with you easy. Plus I think Nat got Keira something, but don’t ask me what. What you buy for a fucking Roomba is beyond me.” Jake watches the way Kauri relaxes back into the easy joking, the more sensitive minefield of simply being cared for avoided for now. “I’ll be right back, then we can exchange, yeah? Just us, first.”

“Yeah.” Kauri gives him that cockeyed grin again, turns to look out the window. The sky is a riot of purples and pinks as the sun slowly rises on a California December. The only change is that it’ll start raining soon, and Kauri wears a sweater sometimes.

Jake pushes himself to his feet, ducking his head as usual to avoid knocking it on the top of the doorframe, heading up the stairs with the solid creaks from the old steps that are as much a part of the house as the pictures Nat keeps on the wall. Chris meets him coming out of the shower, towel-drying his longish hair - he’s growing it out, he says, and it has the slightest curl against the back of his neck and under his ears - and wearing all his clothes already.

With some of the rescues, it’s a sign they still didn’t feel safe, when they took all their clothes into the bathroom and never let their skin be seen. With Chris, as with most Romantics, it’s the opposite. He feels safe enough to know he can make himself comfortable any way he wants. Not feeling like he needs to show skin is a sign of security for him.

“Hey, hey Jake,” Chris says, one green eye covered by the pastel purple towel. “Did, did I hear you, um, you talking to, to-... is, is breakfast-”

“Can you chill up here for a sec?” Jake interrupts him, voice pitched low. At Chris’s confusion, he says softly, “I just… want to do something. Give me ten minutes, yeah? Then I’ll start on breakfast and you can come down.”

“Um, oh-okay,” Chris says, frowning, but he slips into the room he shares with Antoni, and Jake heads for his own room, digging out Kauri’s gift from underneath a carefully arranged pile of basically trash papers in his desk drawer. Hidden, like Kauri was a kid who still believed in Santa.

Hidden, like Jake didn’t want to explain what he did to anyone but Kauri, and definitely didn’t want to explain why.

He heads back downstairs with the gift carefully slipped into his back pocket, unseen until he wants Kauri to know. Ducks his head again - and Jake has been ducking to avoid doorframes since he was sixteen, he thinks, or eighteen maybe - and finds Kauri right where he left him, still sipping his coffee, lost in thought.

Warm gold light edges his mussed-up black curls, sets off the blue of his eyes when he turns to look at Jake. Lights his smile a little, too. Jake’s eyes catch the barest hint of a flash of bare skin at his stomach, where shirt hem and low-slung jeans meet.

“Want to do yours first?” Jake asks, and his voice sounds airy to him, but Kauri doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nah. You open yours, then I’ll do mine.” Kauri gives a smooth shrug, effortlessly graceful. Or maybe it hadn’t been effortless, before it’d been beaten into him until he couldn’t be anything else.

Jake nods, slowly, and sits down, carefully shifting his weight not to put any on the phone, and takes the box in hand. He rips open a seam very slowly and shifts the box out, then folds the wrapping paper and sets it to the side.

He catches Kauri watching him, eyebrows furrowed again and glances up.

“Why-... why didn’t you just tear it?” Kauri points at the folded square, as neat as origami. “Why did you do that? It’s like 15 cents of paper.”

Jake shrugs, running his fingers over the smooth, plain brown box the size of his palm, mostly flat. “We always saved wrapping paper to use the next year, when I was a kid. It’s just a habit, guess I never lost it. What’s in here?”

“Open the box and see.” Kauri holds his mug in both hands, giving him a pleased little smile, and not for the first time, Jake thinks, if I’d met you any other way…

He opens the box. Inside, there’s three gift cards, slightly shiny, and Jake looks each one over, blinking, before he looks up. “This is… the Mitchells Center downtown, the Blue Martini, and… Holden’s Harbor… Kauri, this is-... what is this?”

“A date.” Kauri bites down on his lower lip, looking at Jake over his mug, and his eyes are sparkling bright. Jake almost opens his mouth to say, I’m so sorry, we can’t do that, we just can’t, when Kauri quickly adds, “For you and Addie.”

Jake’s protest dies, unspoken. “For… for Addie?”

“Yeah. You’ve been talking for months about saving up for a big anniversary thing, and then, you know, I heard you say you were giving Nat a bunch of your money when the pipe burst and the basement flooded, so…” He shrug, again. “I didn’t want you to miss out on your date. And I remembered you said she likes that bar, the Blue Martini, I know the bartender there-”

You know everyone, everywhere.

“-so he’s gonna give you drinks half-price, just tell me the night and I’ll let him know. Then Holden’s Harbor, that’s the big one, but I’m friends with a waiter and the hostess is going to give you a table that looks over the Bay, she’s fun, I partied with her a few week ago. And then… the Mitchells Center is doing Hadestown, and you said that’s Addie’s big thing right now. So. Happy anniversary.”

Jake is, for a moment, utterly speechless. “Kauri this is like-... three hundred dollars of-... you can’t possibly-”

“Four. But don’t worry about it. I had a bunch of really good weeks a couple months ago and I don’t spend much money, anyway. Is it good? Do you think?”

Jake just stares at the gift cards for a second, swallowing around a lump in his throat, a tightening threatening to take his voice. “It’s, um.” His voice cracks a little and he has to clear his throat to recover it. “It’s amazing, Kaur. Thank you. Um… like I said, I didn’t have time to wrap it, but…” He pulls the gift out of his back pocket and lays it out on the table between them.

Kauri steps forward, setting his mug down. “What-... a new phone? Thanks, I-”

“Yeah, but, um, that’s not what’s important. Just…” Jake picks the phone up, and it feels like such a dumb thing, now, what he did, but he powers through it. The phone isn’t locked yet, and it’s easy to pull up the apps and folders, select one, and open it up. He slides the phone closer. “Pick one of those, and click it.”

Kauri looks down, and Jake looks with him. It’s a file folder open to a bunch of sound files, each one labeled with an emoji rather than words. A heart, a broken heart, a smile, a sad face. A gravestone. A tree. A cat.

His finger hovers, and then taps deliberately over the heart. A line of options pops up, each one punctuated with new emojis. The one Kauri picks is marked with a face that has blue eyes and black hair, a leaf, and a flower.

“I swear,” A voice - Jake’s voice - comes out of the phone’s speaker, “since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy. The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can’t distinguish the birdseed from the snare.”

“What is this?” Kauri’s voice is hushed, and uncertain. He almost sounds scared. But he doesn’t stop the recording.

“A house of love with no limits,” The voice continues, “A presence more beautiful than Venus or the moon. A beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz XV.”

Jake clears his throat again. “That’s, um, Rumi.”

Kauri’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks for a second like he’ll pick another choice, then pulls his hand back, looking up at Jake wide-eyed. “You… recorded poetry? For my Christmas present?”

“Yeah.” Jake licks at his lips, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t really explain to himself, or maybe just doesn’t want to. “You, um, you quote-... you quote shit all the time, so I started looking it up, and it’s almost always… poetry. So I figured, maybe, um, maybe-... you liked that shit, you know? And you shouldn’t have to… not get it, just because you can’t read yet. So I recorded, um, like… two hundred poems or something?”

Kauri opens his mouth to speak, closes it again.

“Oh my God,” is all he says. His voice cracks.

Jake’s chest twists, nervous, he finds himself tapping his foot on the floor, twisting fingers into his pajama pants.

Kauri leans over and pushes another poem, in a sudden burst of movement like he wants to stop himself and can’t. “Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me.” Jake’s voice is softer on this poem, and it’s uncomfortable listening to himself read this. Why did Kauri choose the love poems? “The much-loved loose forest-green sweatpants, the long bra-less days, hair knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed dance on the brain.”

“This is Ada Limon,” Kauri whispers.

“I’d like to say this means I love you, the stained white cotton T-shirt, the tears, pistachio shells, the mess of orange peels on my desk, but it’s different than that. I move in this house with you, the way I move in my mind, unencumbered by beauty’s cage.”

“You, uh, mentioned her one day when Nat was listening to NPR-”

“Ssshhhh,” Kauri says, holding up a hand, as Jake’s recorded voice keeps reading.

“I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me than much else. I’m wrong, it is that I love you, but it’s more that when you say it back, lights out, a cold wind through curtains, for maybe the first time in my life, I believe it. Ada Limon, Love Poem With Apologies for My Appearance.”

There’s a long silence broken only by Kauri’s harsh breathing, and Jake watches tears build in his wide blue eyes. He’s done something wrong, somehow. It had seemed like a good gift but he’s ruined it, somehow it wasn’t right at all, it wasn’t-

“Thank you, this is-... this is amazing,” Kauri says. Barely words. More just a breath.

Some part of Jake had been tense and coiled to turn in on himself in anger. That part, at the words, relaxes. “You’re welcome. Is it-... is it good, or…”

“You, um-... you fucking heard, some shit I said, and you-... got me something, I just...” Kauri’s hands move nervously, over himself and over the back of the chair, to the phone, back up to his hair. He meets Jake’s eyes, and his brim with tears and Jake feels his own heating up in response. “You just… I, I don’t-... no one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

“Really?”

“I m-mean, not that I know of anyway.” The joke falls flat, Kauri’s voice is too full of tears. Kauri picks up the phone like it’s a precious object that might shatter or disappear, holds it with reverent hands. Swallows and looks at Jake like he’s seeing him for the first time. “I didn’t-... know you listened to me so much.”

“‘Course I do. Merry Christmas,” Jake says, voice maybe a little thick, buried in the things they don’t say to each other. “Merry Christmas, Kauri.”

Kauri pours himself another cup of coffee, and Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding at the sign that Kauri will stay a little longer.

With his back to Jake and the phone still clutched in one hand, Kauri says, “Merry Christmas, Jake.”

They both pretend that Kauri’s voice isn’t shaking.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#christmas specials #original fiction #pining #yearning #angsty fluff #whump #whump oc anyway #erase to control #jake the shelter guy

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 3 years

Text

Our Doll 9//find a way of coping

B.Barnes x S.Rogers, B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

Series Synopsis | After the events of the horrific past, y/n Stark, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have finally admitted their feelings for each other. But is life as an avenger whilst dating two super soldiers any easier than anything y/n’s experienced in the past?

sequel Series to Their Doll

Series Warnings | smut, violence, torture, swearing, threesomes, drug usage/substance abuse

Chapter Summary | y/n is struggling to cope after Sokovia. Someone unexpected shows up

Warnings | swearing, drug use, violence, descriptions of dead bodies

A/n | This is a sequel book/series to my fic Their Doll! This book loosely follows the mcu timeline, starting in CAWS in book one and starting just before AOU in this book. Bucky had been recovered and is safe, and Peter was taken under Tony's wing when he was much younger.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Y/n sighed, rolling the joint between her fingers as she sat back. Since being at the new compound, y/n had found a place to hide just past the treelike of the surrounding woods - a place that no one else had found so far.

She brought the joint to her lips, her thumb flicking it the lighter until the little flame danced, lighting the tip. She breathed in, taking a hit before lowering the joint from her mouth and breathing the smoke out. Her head rolled back, resting against the tree behind her.

Y/n let her eyes slip shut, being the joint back up and taking another hit of the weed. She could feel herself relaxing, muscles lax and stress leaving.

It was the first time in days that her mind was taken off of what she'd done, and she was relishing in it. She let the rolled up joint hang from her fingers, wrist loose as she rested her forearm on her knees, which were tucked into her chest.

"Y/n? What the fuck are you doing!?" Y/n groaned, her eyes fluttering open as she rubbed her eyes.

"Shit." She muttered, gasping when she felt Bucky's fingers curl around her jaw, tilting her head up to his as he leaned in close. He examined her reddened eyes, expression u telling of his emotions.

"Are you high?" He pushed after a moment, tone harsh, like a bite.

"No!" Y/n defended, bringing a hand up and slapping Bucky's arm away from her. She stood up, rolling her eyes at Bucky as he glared at her. "You interrupted me before I could get that far." She mumbled under her breath, and Bucky scoffed, placing his hands on his hip.

"Come on, doll. I okay ow you're struggling right now...but drugs? Seriously? I thought you were better than this." Bucky dismissed, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Well I'm so sorry to disappoint you, asshole! You're not the one that killed a bunch of innocent people, Buck!" Y/n raised her voice, throwing her hands in the air. Bucky tilted his head with a frustrated look, pacing towards y/n so quickly that she backed up into the tree. Y/n let out a small oomph as her back collided with the bark, Bucky's body pressed against hers.

"I didn't kill a bunch of innocent people, hm? Did you forget who you're talking to, y/n? I'm the goddamn poster boy for killing innocents, doll!" Bucky shouted, his spit spraying her face as the veins in his neck and forehead protruded, face red. "But it doesn't mean I resorted to drugs, y/n! That shit messes you up, it's fuckin' dangerous!"

"At least you weren't lucid when you killed them." Y/n shot back in a barely audible mumble that had Bucky scoffing with a short, humourless laugh.

"Wasn't lucid? Doesn't make it any fuckin' better, y/n! I still killed them!" Bucky exclaimed, eyes wide as he pushed away from her. He sighed deeply, but y/n stayed in place, breathing heavy.

"Look, I'm sorry for shouting, okay? But jus- just please promise me you won't use that stuff again? I don't want you hurting yourself with that shit." Bucky said calmly now, a soft plea in his eyes that made y/n instinctively nod.

"I won't. I promise." Y/n murmured, and Bucky sighed again, throwing his arms out to the side. Y/n rushed forwards, leaping into his arms so hard that Bucky took a few steps back, encasing the girl into his warm embrace.

"I've got you doll, I've got you. You're okay." He mumbled, his nose buried in y/n's hair as he spoke.

...

The second I entered the room, I was spinning on my heal to leave again. Steve's hand wrapping a round my bicep stopped me in my tracks though, his face levelling with mine.

"Doll, please." He murmured, blue eyes soft. I rolled my eyes, but straightened up and turned around anyway. A fake smile occupied my lips as I crossed my arms over my test, tilting my head with a hum. Tony rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips and Sharon stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Hi, I'm Sharon Carter. I'm here to assistant with your training and trying to keep your powers under control." She said with a pitiful look. I eyes her hand but never took it, instead looking over the woman's shoulder at Tony.

"Her? Really? What's she gonna do; be some pointless victim for me?" I scoffed and my dad threw me a glare. I could practically feel the awkwardness radiating between Steve and Sharon, Steve's Adam's apple bobbing furiously as he swallowed thickly. Sharon's eyes darted between the two of us, skittish and almost scared; like I would hurt her if she looked at him too long.

"Y/n speak friendlier." Tony barked through gritted teeth, the embarrassment he felt clear in his tone. I scoffed again, letting my eyes roll obnoxiously.

"No, Mr Stark, it's okay." Sharon waved off, a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes spreading across her pink lips. "I know we got off on the, uh, wrong foot," she cleared her throat and I scoffed. "But I hope we can...start over. I think we could be good friends."

"Yeah, sure." I said nonchalantly, shaking my head and hitting my hip out.

"Y/n," Steve said, tone a little too harsh, "please, just give her a chance. She knows what's she's doing." That comment had my turning to face the super soldier, brow quirked.

"Oh yeah, Steve? I'm sure she really knew what she was doing when she fucked you. Did she bounce on it real good?" I mocked, but my words were no where near playful. Steve cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze as he spoke.

"Come on, y/n, that's not fair. We were broken up!" Steve exclaimed with a frown. Y/n just glared at him, a silence ensuing. After a moment Tony clapped his hands together turning to Sharon.

"Should I show you to your room?" He inquired and the blonde woman tilted her head in a smile.

"I think that's a great idea." As they walked out of the room, Sharon took one last glance at steve before the thud of the door was signalling their exit.

And that was it for y/n.

"Why were you looking at her?" Y/n mumbled, looking up at Steve, whose eyes were still trained on the door. The man smirked, baby blue eyes darting down to meet with y/n's as his pearly-white teeth flashed.

"You're jealous." He gloated, and y/n smacked his chest.

"Of course I'm fuckin' jealous! Why wouldn't I be?" Y/n snapped, and Steve drew the squirming girl into his arms.

"You have nothing to worry about. I was just..lost in thought, I guess." Steve sighed, placing a kiss into y/n's hair as she settled into his embrace. "Just try not to kill Sharon while she's helping you train, I'd never forgive myself." Steve mumbled and y/n giggled against his broad chest.

"I can't make any promises." She murmured back. Steve chest vibrates in a mumble as he chuckled, another kiss being dropped into her hair.

...

The last person I expected to show up was Peter. I hadn't spoken to him much since the night of the party, and I fully intended on walking straight passes him. But the stupid teenager had other plans.

I was already frustrated, on edge; Sharon had just finished my first training session and all I could think about the whole time were her fair hands all over steve, her perfectly pink lips on his, her naked body pressed to his-

I shook the thoughts off, blinking a couple times before looking up at Peter again.

"Can we talk?" The boy mumbled, eyes pleading as he looked hopefully at me. I sighed, heavy and long, before giving him a small nod. My day couldn't really get any worse anyway, so what was the harm in indulging him?

He led me to one of the common rooms, which was empty and barely even looked like it had been decorated yet. The sides were empty as well as the walls, a simple sofa sat in the middle of a lonely room. Peter led me over to it, the cushions dipping as we both perched on the seat.

"I wanted to apologise." Peter said after a moment, head hanging as he broke the awkward silence. I gulped, swallowing thickly at his words. "I wanted to apologise for how much of a dick I was. Before." He said he didn't receive a reply from me.

"Okay." I mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "Why?"

"Because it wasn't fair, how we rested you. How he treated you. How I treated you." Peter spoke with a tight, barely-there, smile. "I know I didn't do much, but I'm staring to thick that was the problem. I could feel done something; included you, talked to Mr Stark." Peter continued.

My fists clenched and unclenches at the memories, my jaw tightening as I listened to him speak. I could feel that bubbling urge, rising so high to the surface I was struggling to shove it back down again.

"Peter." I said sharply, harshly. The boy frowned, trying to look at me but my head was turned away. "Peter, I need to you leave. Get out of the room. Now." I grated through gritted teeth, closing my eyes tightly and willing the urges down. "Please." My voice cracked and Peter slowly stood, hands out in surrender as he babbled, confused. "Now!" I growled, but it was too late.

I opened my eyes to see the brown-haired boy crouched in the floor, hands grasping his head as he groaned in pain.

"Y/n...please...stop...you're hurting...me!" Peter stammered, words wheezed out through the pain as a scream clutched his throat. I gasped, I think. But the rage was burning; a horrid, contagious feeling that ate me from the inside out. "Y/n, please!" He screamed, falling forwards so his forehead resting against the floor.

I was vaguely aware of the click of the door opening, then slamming closed as footsteps piled into the room. Frantic worries as Tony crouched over Peter; barking orders into the room.

A softly murmured 'm'sorry' before a sharp pain in my head, vision knocked out as my body fell limply against the sordid wall of muscle besides me.

Taglists

Steve Rogers Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @macylawz @zaphdekota @bval-1

Bucky Barnes Series/mini Series | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @zaphdekota

Steve Rogers One-shot, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @marvelhoesworld @macylawz @zaphdekota @bval-1 @anakinsslag

Bucky Barnes One-shot, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @macylawz @zaphdekota @anakinsslag

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kyoupann · 3 years

Note

fic request: hyrule "getting lost" on purpose for some alone time from the group, and bringing someone with him to find a cool spot and just hang out a while! bonus if it turns out he very rarely actually gets lost and just uses it as an excuse xD extra bonus if it's legend 👉👈

Anon, I love you. You're the epitome of big brain.

Have Hyrule and Legend having a wholesome moment. It's not much, but it's honest work. <3

Bold of you to believe Hyrule gets lost easily

Being on an adventure with a party was quite different from what Hyrule had imagined; truth to be told, the thought never crossed his mind. But when it finally became a reality and he found himself surrounded by people 24/7, the closeness, the noise, started to suffocate him.

Don't take him wrong, he loves his new friends. He absolutely does. Ones more than others, but he still loves them all. But he could do with fewer people from time to time. And since some of the others didn't seem to be willing to separate for more than a couple of minutes, unless extremely required, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The first time was almost accidental. He did go off-trail for a bathroom break, but as he waited for his business to be finished he realised how quiet the woods were; no clinking of armour, no footsteps, no small chat, just birds chirping and treetops rustling gently against each other. Just pure, comfortable quiet. He didn't even notice that he had finished already, so lost contemplating his surrounding and how much he missed this. Soon enough, he snapped out of it, fixed his clothes and started heading back to the main trail. The group was probably far ahead, so he didn't rush to reach them. Instead, he took his time, idly following the trail and admiring the beauty around him: massive trees, so tall they covered the sky, the only source of light slipping through the gaps between the leaves; so lovely and delicate and warm. Without the noise of a full travelling party, he noticed that the small creatures of the forest didn't mind his silent steps, some hares peeking from their burrows and a couple of squirrels chasing each other down a tree trunk.

He didn't know how long it took him to catch up with the group, but he knows that it must have been a good half an hour or more; their faces showing nothing but annoyance, maybe a bit of worry etched on their youngest companion, but irritation definitely took the lead.

"Where were you?!" was the first thing one of them asked, followed by some concerned queries about his well-being.

He took exactly one second to think and answer "I got lost on my way back."

And from then on, he was never allowed to leave the perimeter without a partner. Which, mind you, fucking sucked. There he was trying not to hurt anybody's feelings, yet his answer ended up backfiring in the worst way possible; not only was it harder to have some quiet, but the group also started to underestimate his sense of direction in a way that felt almost insulting. Did he have to remind them that there are no maps in his Hyrule and yet he knows the land like the back of his hand? But go off, not like he cares, anyway.

He tried to not let it bother him, and not past a couple of days, he found a solution to the very same problem he got himself into. He started to sneak out without anyone noticing, and if they did notice, they were nice enough to not rat him out. To each their own, whatever. It became a habit, whenever he would feel the tingling sensation at the nape of his neck, he would begin to fall behind and leave the group as soon as he saw an opportunity. Often times, it was Wild and his weird wolf who found him pacing around somewhere, the blue-clad hero with a mischievous smile on his face while the wolf sported a frown, not thrilled to be on hunt duty. Other times, Hyrule made his way back to the group a couple of hours later, before anyone started arranging a rescue team for someone who clearly didn't need it. But he appreciated the sentiment; at least he knows that they wouldn't just ditch him anytime.

One day, though, he noted that their veteran was in a sour mood, more than any other day. He had no idea that could be possible, but, hey, you learn new things every day. He felt kindness fill his body more than usual and was willing to let the veteran in on his little secret. He didn't need to worry too much before turning to him as they unpacked their stuff for the night.

"Hey, I'm feeling a bit restless," he said and the other just hummed in response, "do you want to go for a walk with me?"

"No."

For a moment, he thought of dropping it right then; but on the other hand, he was feeling a tad overwhelmed by the noise coming from the guys helping the cook with dinner and the others taking care of their gear. Couldn't they be a bit more... silent? For mostly mute companions, they sure were extremely loud in their tasks sometimes.

"Please, everyone is busy," he pleaded, now moving to be face to face with the veteran, "please, Leg. It won't take long."

He saw the Legend drop his shoulders in surrender before agreeing to a short walk around the area. And as soon as they had their stuff ready, they took off.

Hyrule was excited to have some alone time after what had been entire days without the opportunity to sneak out. He didn't even mind Legend coming with him. In fact, he was delighted to have him around. While Legend often worried about his disappearing habits, he was also the most chill about it. He really liked him. He hoped that this walk would ease his mind of whatever was bothering him; he wasn't going to ask, that was not the point of this. If Legend wanted to talk, they would.

"It sure is nice around here," Legend said, as emotionless as ever, making Hyrule question if he even meant it.

There were no trees blocking the sky, the sea of constellations shining brightly above them as they walked up a hill. Hyrule guessed it was most likely a small mountain if his adventure had taught him anything. The path was becoming too steep for them to trek in a straight line. Just as soon as they got to what seemed to be a dead-end, Legend whistled, catching the traveller's attention.

"It was a great walk," he said, boots already turning around and retracing his steps. "Time to go back."

But Hyrule didn't follow him. Instead, he reached in front of him.

"Last to get to the top is a bald cuccoo," he shouted as he started his climb.

He didn't even look back to check on Legend, he knew he would be following him. They climbed in silence, saving their energy and attention for the slippery rocks that fell from their hands and under the weight of their boots.

About ten minutes later, when the moon was at its highest point, Hyrule reached a small plateau on the side of the mountain. It might not be the destination they had in mind, but he couldn't deny that the view from there was stunning. To their south, he could see the prairie they had passed through early in the day, the light of the moon illuminating every single patch of grass and rock; on the other side of the mountain, to the north, Hyrule could spot the light and smoke coming from their campsite. They weren't that far, after all. Just enough to relax.

"What the fuck? You can't just say shit like that and start climbing, Hyrule!" Legend wheezed as he dragged his body over the edge, completely out of breath and slamming his back against the cold ground.

Hyrule ran to aid him to stand up, extending small apologies as he offered his hand, his shoulders shaking with a stifled chuckle.

"What are you talking about? That was fun!"

He gave Legend the time to look around, hoping that the view would make him forget his irritation. In the end, he guesses he succeeded; a soft smile adorned the other's face.

"I wished we could stay longer, but we gotta head back."

Hyrules ears perked up in interest and a grin that showed nothing but mischief appeared.

"Oh, it would be such a shame if we got lost on our way back and we had to wait until morning to avoid getting even more lost in the dark."

It took Legend 5 seconds before the gears in his mind began to work and process what Hyrule said.

"You little shit," he punched him on his arm playfully, earning him a cackle from the traveller. "You. cheeky. little. shit." He marked each word with a punch, each less hard than the last.

Hyrule rubbed his arm, "so, what do you say?" He looked at Legend expectantly, " If you want to go back to the others, we'll go. I'm not keeping you here, but I think some time off would do us good."

It was then that Legend noticed that Hyrule had brought his bag with him. He sat down and started pulling a variety of items from it, a fabric too thin to be a blanket being one of them.

With a snap of his fingers, a nearby bush lit on fire, and in no time they had their own little impromptu camp set up.

"I have some fish if you want me to make something," he pointed to his bag, but as always, he didn't wait for a response, already elbow-deep into the bag looking for the food, "caught it this morning, it's basically fresh."

Two small fish stabbed through the middle with a stick later, he handed one stick for Legend to grill over the fire.

"So... you get lost... on purpose..."

"Yep."

"Why?"

Hyrule bit the inside of his cheek and flipped his fish over, " for the exact same reason you accepted to come with me, I suppose." He took the fish off the fire and inspected it. "Unlike most of you, I didn't have a companion during my adventures. Having someone to talk to whenever is nice and all but... well, I simply value my privacy. I like being alone."

Legend could only hum in agreement. He rolled his stick, half of his fish almost burnt, "Wow, thanks," he said, his words coated with sarcasm.

"I like being alone with you," he laughed at his own words, a bit unsure of how to fix what he had said, but no less true.

A soft smile pulled at Legend's lips. He sighed in contentment and extended an arm to ruffle Hyrule's hair.

"I like being with you, too."

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the-crows-typist · 3 years

Text

Here’s the fourth installment of your Valentine’s event (Yes, I know it’s March but IRL stuff happens y’know? This time we have Kalim paired with the word ‘Flowers’ requested by @opalmaplehibiscus .Enjoy!

CW: Hanahaki AU (Non-lethal variant), Angst with a happy ending, potential OOC, Minor talks about death

Word count: 3656

Other works: Chocolates Feat. Jade, Cards Feat. Floyd, Kiss Feat. Vil

A Heart From Me to You

Kalim loved to look at flowers regardless of where he saw them. He loved the way the petals touched his skin and the many scents, whether sweet or strong, he breathed into his nose. Visiting the school’s botanical garden was one of his ‘hidden favorite things’ to do, he puts it as hidden as Jamil and he was glued to the hip since birth and while he never minded that Jamil was close by, there were moments he wished to be alone.

It was a very selfish want, he admitted to himself.

“Phew.” He breathed a relieved sigh, finally able to enter the garden without much of a problem. The sound of birds is what calmed him and the familiar scent of stored water was what brought him a sense of renewal. Taking one of the watering cans, Kalim began watering the flowering plants with not much thought going into it.

The flowers were beautiful, they truly were. They were very lucky to be this beautiful and to be held in such high regard for it. Yes, the flowers were indeed lucky contrary to his being; he never thought of himself the way he viewed the flowers and while he enjoyed some perks of his life thanks to his family’s achievements, it came with the same amount of misfortune and realities usually too dark for people his age to perceive.

Many people get hurt or even die for his sake, his siblings don’t get as much attention from their father as they liked because he, the eldest, is in the way and deep down he knew and felt the boiling resentment many had for him.

He doesn’t blame anyone for thinking that. It was a hard pill that Kalim was used to swallowing.

Perhaps had he been born a flower, life would have been easier for everyone including him.

He continued his watering until the can was empty and only then did he go back to the hose to refill it. The foliage on the way there was thick, he figured it hadn’t been cut for a while and made a note to himself to find some hedge clippers. He wasn’t allowed to hold knives, that’s true, but hedge clippers don’t count, right?

Lost In his internal debate, a quick set of feet ran and collided with his side harshly, Kalim and the unknown student losing their balance with a collective sound of surprise. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” You held your hands to yourself, as if hurt when Kalim slowly inched forward. “A-are you hurt? I can take you to the clinic if you—!” He was suddenly pushed out of the way, your hands only touching him for a moment before running off.

Kalim watched in confusion, blinking when the door slammed shut. The smell of lavender hit his nose and his eyes loomed downwards to see that the area you had touched had been taken over by the flowering buds of lavender. “This wasn’t here before.” He whispered to himself and attempted to pull at the flowers carefully out of the fabric.

When he finished his resting time, Jamil was waiting outside the botanical garden looking very upset. “You ran off again.” He said in the most seething voice Kalim was used to hearing. “Look, I can explain.” And back to reality it was, playing as the happy-go-lucky person people knew him as. While he enjoyed the time to himself, he hated how short it lasted. But now, he has to keep face, he has to be what he was expected to be.

Jamil takes his hand but Kalim’s smile only wavers a little bit. Here we go. “No amount of explaining will change the fact that you were alone. You should be more careful, Kalim. What if—?”

There was a biting sensation on his skin, the two boys looking down and on Jamil’s skin sprouted small white blossoms and enticing black berries. They both reeled from each other, Jamil holding his hand and Kalim his wrist.

He suddenly remembers you, bumping into him during his internal discussion.

“Kalim…” Jamil’s eyes were wide in fear. “Your…”

The nightshade flowers withered under the sun, its poisonous berries drying and falling to their feet in clumps.

Wearing gloves in warm weather wasn’t the nicest feeling but it had to be done. After the confirmation that Kalim had indeed been cursed, Jamil had become vigilant and stricter with his role as protector. There wasn’t a time he was ever alone in one room. His selfishness has come to bite him back, Kalim thought to himself.

He looked to his hands with a huff. The curse didn’t seem harmful, just inconvenient…And the one who gave it, You, didn’t seem like it was intentional. The meeting between you two was brief, only lasting a few seconds and a few shed flowers.

“Kalim, let’s go,” Jamil said, tugging him along and walking by his side every step of the way.

Ah, how would he know anyway? He’s not good at anything like Jamil nor does he have the physical capabilities as he does. The only thing he’s probably good at is flying a magic carpet and the drums.

“Yeah.”

Kalim was quiet on their walk and until he sat down in the classroom, he kept silent. Class started without much trouble, he took notes but couldn’t listen much, his mind wandering back to you in the botanical garden.

Lab classes had a sort of freedom to it. Kalim was able to work around a bit more his gloves and Jamil would often be paired with someone else…Usually Azul. Kalim noticed that despite their different interest, Jamill and Azul had grown closer in the past months. And while he was happy for them both, there was a sting that never wanted to leave.

He and Kalim were born around the same time and since then never left each other’s side. He was there when Kalim needed him and he was his friend, probably his only friend. That was, at least, what he wanted to believe but even during their childhood, Kalim had already noticed that Jamil was with him because he was told to. Had Jamil been given the choice, he could have played with someone else other than him.

“Excuse me, would you like to start?” His partner asked and he blinked, nodding his head and smiling the way he always does. “Yeah! Let’s work hard.”

He stayed in the corner, eyes looking at particularly nothing. He and his partner finished up early and got a good enough score for it…Which is good, he’ll take a passing grade than a failed mark any day. He looked over to the side of the ceiling and his hands intertwined with each other. In the back, Jamil smiled at Azul’s demise after hot smoke bellowed from the cauldron and out to their face.

It had been a while since he saw Jamil looking that happy. There was stinging itchiness in his hands that went with the heaviness in his heart. The gloves grew tighter and less comfortable and Kalim wanted to take it off, but showing he had been cursed meant showing others he was vulnerable.

The itchiness and the cold warmth of fear felt were too great. He needed a change of environment, he needed alone time. He took one last look at a laughing Jamil then slinked off and out of the lab, almost running to a place he knows he’ll be safe.

The botanical garden was silent and unchanged, its flowers blooming in different colors and hues, the temperature a mix of tropical and temperate. He smiled upon seeing Leona rest against a tree and soon walked deeper and deeper into the gardens to a place where he could relax. Discarding his gloves, he let his hands touch the tree stumps, flowers of Helenium growing on the bark and providing color in an otherwise dimly lit landscape with the trees acting as a canopy.

Kalim sighs, letting his thought leave whichever way it can. The flowers bloomed under his palm and he reveled in its beauty, just by being born it was able to bring a sort of happiness to those who choose to look at it.

His shoulders droop slightly, his line sight dipping to a tree’s roots. His hands begin to scratch and he begins to scratch on the skin of his palms, begging his body and the curse to stop. He rubbed his palms together, the tattered stems and petals falling to the ground in a heap. “Please stop.” He begged to himself. “Please make it stop.”

He closed his eyes, brows furrowed and shaking. The flowers crept up his skin over his hands. “Please stop.” Hunching over, he brought his hands to his chest. “Please…”

“Please,”

“Calm down.”

Picking the flowers out of his skin was an odd experience and even more that someone else was doing it. Your hands were wrapped with bandages and eyes searching for even the tiniest blossoms on his skin. Kalim sniffed, rubbing his eyes with a now flower-free hand. “That’s it, just let it all flow out.” You said and pick the last flower from his hand.

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” You explain. “You have to let it out or else the flowers will consume you.” He takes his gloves out of his hand and slips them back on and you sit up straight, an embarrassed smile formed on your lips. “I suppose I should its high time that I introduce myself—.”

“You’re the one who bumped into me.”

You nod your head. “Yes, and you’re Kalim Al-Asim, dorm leader of Scarabia.” With a voice gentle, Kalim felt at ease but what his eyes saw betrayed the feeling immediately. “Please forgive me, I didn’t know that it would pass onto you so suddenly.” You bowed, forehead touching the ground in your position.

You waited for a reaction, anything, but as time passed you never heard anything nor did you feel any anticipated touches. “It’s a little embarrassing seeing you like this, raise your head,” Kalim said and you did what you were told. He looked down at his hands, a few blossoms stayed on his skin.

“How long have you had it?” Kalim asked, placing a hand over yours and the touch making you twitch. “This curse.” He clarifies, your eyes holding the quivering vulnerability only presented to him alone.

“For a long while now.”

Kalim didn’t know how long he had spent in the gardens just talking to you, knowing what the curse had to offer. You always made sure none of your skin ever touched anything or peaked out of your uniform. While you were gentle and kind, Kalim saw fear in your actions.

“The curse only latches onto anyone with festering feelings…Perhaps,” Kalim looks at his hand while you pause as if what you were about to say would sound very mean-spirited. “Perhaps that’s why it latched onto you, too.”

It was near evening when he got out, his heart not as heavy but speedy knowing that he had to face a very upset Jamil for being selfish and unguarded. He walked down the steps, already seeing the familiar figure at the bottom; Jamil’s brows were furrowed and expression angry.

The two of them stared at each other and Jamil turned his back. “Let’s go home.”

You had told him prior that you lived inside the garden, in a special cottage that was hidden from view. It must be nice, he thought to himself. Jamil took Kalim by the wrist and pulled him close, walking to his stride.

“Is there a way to break this curse?” He asked and your smile deflated but only for a short while. “I wish I could tell you,” You say. “But I don’t know, either.”

From the evening setting of Night Raven, Kalim was welcomed to the familiar home of the Scarabia dorm. The two walked to the entrance quietly and soon Jamil let go of him, turning around. “Is there something I need to know about?”

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” He remembered you explaining to him and suddenly his palms began to itch. He shook his head, giving him the happy-go-lucky smile he was used to seeing. “You were having fun so I thought it’d be best to leave you alone.”

“Just…” He could hear the frustration in his voice before the eventual sigh of exhaustion. “Just don’t run off by yourself. It would spell bad things if you’d gotten hurt.”

Jamil shook his head and went on his way, leaving Kalim alone. Now that they were in the safety of the dorms, he could rest…Both of them could. Kalim quickly takes off his gloves and pressed his palms together, breathing in deep and for the first time in a while let the tears fall from his eyes.

His breathing was slow and steady, his walking slightly shakey and laborious but his palms no longer itched and the flowers halted in their growth. When he entered his room, he plopped his face into his pillow and letting it soak up all that he had felt.

Flowers were beautiful and revered for just being alive. Flowers were born lucky and he wasn’t. He breathed in deep and moved away from the pillow to breathe, his thoughts went back to your face with a smile so delicate like thin glass.

“There are moments I wanted to be born as a flower.”

Evading Jamil and regrouping with you was a new normal for him, waiting for the right moment that Jamil is busy or focused on something or someone before bolting. The botanical garden was immediately a no-go after he had caught you there twice so the two of you decided to set course for a place no one normally goes to.

The fields blew, the tall sunflowers dancing in the wind and keeping both of you hidden from sight. You huffed a small laugh. “What kind of flower would you have wanted to be like?” Kalim touched the fibrous stem of the sunflower.

“Maybe a sunflower. People like them and they give really tasty seeds.” Bringing his knees together, Kalim’s expression shifted to one of deep thought. The sun cast a soft light over them, his eyes almost glowing like rubies under it.

The brief silence between you harbored no negativity but one of understanding. You and he had bonded with the small time together and Kalim knew very well that you wouldn’t run away from these kinds of conversations. You listened and you replied with what resonated with you.

He liked your honesty and he didn’t spare any effort to show his appreciation to you.

“What about you?” He asked, looking over to you as you thought about it.

“An osiria rose. They look really pretty and the petals are white with red tips.” Smiling to yourself, you look into your hands. “It’s a rare flower and takes a lot of breeding mixes to perfect. I really like it.” Kalim hummed and looked up to the sky as the wind crashed against them.

“Flowers are really lucky, huh?” He said, leaning back with his palms flat on the ground. “No matter how dangerous or how defensive a flower is, people still like it just because.” You never mentioned it to him but Kalim was good at hiding. His eyes, to his lips, and to the very voice he used with you; there was never a time you actually saw his grief that way he saw yours.

“The very first time Jamil was poisoned back when we were young I didn’t know what to do with myself.” His fingers shook and removed his glove and letting his bare skin grow flowers on the ground he touched, allowing flowers to grow where he touched. “He didn’t wake up until weeks later while I was escorted around by different people.” You blinked, leaning your head towards him.

“I’m sure his family was worried, his sister tried her best not to show it but I knew better.” Feeling your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the action with a small laugh. “That was probably the time I realized how unlucky my origins were.”

“Kalim.”

“It’s a stretch, I know.” His smile morphed into a frown. “I don’t like asking for much knowing how much effort people have to make to get it done.” Your hand held his and soon, your fingers closed onto each other. “I’m fine. I just wanted to vent—.” He said but you only shook your head.

“It’s okay to cry, Kalim. I won’t say anything.” And he did, he continued looking forward yet the tears betrayed neutral expression. He sniffled when you continued to hold his hand.

“I met someone special back then. They made me very happy.” The both of you needed to move hiding places when Jamil caught wind of your meeting without him, the two of you opt to go to a field behind the school. A place not a lot of people go to, the flowers were not bountiful where you sat and the air was cooler.

While the bluebells were scattered in patches, coloring the meadow blue and green. “But I was young and stupid like most people, I thought they’d be with me for a long time.” You smiled at him, chuckling. “It’s silly but, I was really sad when they left.

“They meant a lot to you, didn’t they?” Kalim wondered.

“The meant the world to me.”

The both of you smile and your hand brought itself to your lip, a finger hooked under it. “It’s silly, really. It’s nothing like what you went through. I was so hung up on it that I ended up getting hit with the curse.” Kalim places a hand on your back as you laugh with a bitter taste in your mouth. “It’s silly, I know. It’s nothing compared to what you went through.”

“Still, losing someone important hurts a ton. Especially when you couldn’t get to say goodbye.”

Nodding your head, you lean against Kalim’s shoulder and he does the same by leaning against you. The bluebells flutter into the wind, your nose sniffling and eyes carrying a lingering sting. Kalim’s hand goes to your shoulder, rubbing it.

You hold your palms, scratching at it through the wrap. “Thank you for listening, Kalim.” You say, rubbing your eyes slightly. “I really appreciate it.”

Kalim stared into the distance, holding you close to him and not minding what little tears you chose to let out in front of him. “You did the same for me.”

The tendency to be clumsy often comes at the worst times, Kalim and your hands were wetted with some nice fruit juices he managed to snag when Jamil wasn’t looking. Both his gloves and your wraps lay soaked on the ground in front of you.

“I…” Kalim sighed and you shook your head. “Those things do get hard to wear after some time. It’s nice to feel the air again.” You rub your hands together, palms soft after being confined for so long. Kalim sits on the ground across from you. “I’m sorry, I’m sure we can find something to wrap your hands with.”

“Yup.”

The both of you looked at the items before you in silence, both of your hands to themselves and never touching at all. “Do you ever…Do you miss being able to touch things?” You ask him and he nods his head. “I do. I miss being able to feel brooms and the blankets I have. I try not to mind it much.”

You ball your palms together, interlacing fingers over each other. “I see.” Suddenly you bring out your hand to his, palm open for him to take. “But…” He hesitates but his hand comes out slowly. “It’s alright to ask for things.” You say. “Go on.”

He took a breath in, his hand inching towards yours. He thought about his first meeting and the many times he evaded Jamil just to be with you.

“I trust you.”

Did he really deserve to be able to ask for this? After all the things he’s caused?

“I do too.”

Your hands touched and mirrored each other; the itchiness he expected to feel was no longer present. The silence was tense and his shoulders and breathing were shaking yet your hold on him calm with a knowing and relieved smile on your lips. Your eyes met one another and Kalim smiled, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you into him into a hug; his laugh tingling beside your ear.

Your hands feel the softness of the fabric and your nose breathed in the scent of his clothes. You closed your eyes, burying your face into his shoulder, bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new as you imagined a new life ahead of you. A pot of olive flowers blooms not too far from your position as you two shared an embrace long-awaited.

Peace had been found between two kindred souls. Finally, after so long.

#works from the typewriter #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader #g/n reader #valentines event

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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years

Text

A Devil’s Toy | Arvin Russell x Male!Reader

Request: Crossover where Arvin gets connected with the symbiote? Because Spidey!Arvin seems silly and unfitting but Venom!Arvin is kind of 😳😳😳

Words: 3694

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The town you lived in was always quiet. The birds chirped happily in the tree, nature at it's best. Cars approaching from the forest road were easily heard from miles away. Sorting the groceries you just brought home, a distant sound shakes you from your thought. Fast-paced footsteps approach your house from the treeline. They certainly were running. Before you were able to shove the curtain aside, you hear a voice call out your name. Repeatedly.

"Arvin?" You speed to the door, opening it for him. "What happened?" Eyeing the dirty cloth wrapped around his lower right arm. As you looked closer, it covered most of his lower arm. You couldn't see his hand nor wrist. His eyes were narrow, heaving for air, as he clutched his other hand tightly on the cloth. This wasn't the first time Arvin came in like this. In all those years you'd known him, he got in a lot of fights, with the necessary injuries. He won most of them, but some… He knew he was outmatched, yet it is as if he didn't care. As if the greater the challenge, the bigger the appeal.

"G-Get… me… a... k-...k-knife." He stuttered through the heaving breaths, unwrapping the cloth from his arm. You seat him down at the kitchen table and quickly bring him a large knife. For what was the question right now, but you never questioned Arvin. And if you did, most of the time, he didn't answer. At first, you didn't notice any blood as the cloth opened up. His denim jacket still in good shape. You notice how nervous and anxious he is. Eyeing his surroundings constantly. Trust was something Arvin didn't have. At least in most people. You always managed with him. But something was off about Arvin. He kept everything in check. As if he was expecting something or someone.

"Help me (Y/N)-..." He snarled while ripping the last the piece of cloth from his hand. "-get this off me." Struck by fear, revolt, and sheer terror, you jolt back a few steps. Covering your mouth with one hand.

"W-Wha… What is that?!" Arvin's hand was completely black, not from sickness. As far as you knew from a first glance. Because it moved. Your bowels churned in revolt. Feeling your earlier snack rise in distaste. The tar-like ooze moved and pulsated around his hand and lower arm.

"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed, grabbing the knife. "I don't know! Just get it off me!" Trying to scrape it off with the sharp end. He shook all over, struggling to place the blade against the moving substance. From both angles, it was impossible to decide if he was going to strike the goo or his own skin. His hesitation held the blade at bay. "Goddammit! Help me (Y/N)!" He angrily shot at you.

"C-Can you move your hand?"

"Eh… Yes... "He said, seeing them move shakingly. "I can feel it..."

"Alright… Alright…." Grabbing his coat. "Take it off." You command, pulling him onto his feet. "We have to know how far it's-…"

"(Y/N)?" He asked with widening eyes. Seeing the fear struck in your eyes. "What's-…"

Step by step, you back up from Arvin. Feeling the trembles take over your body as the level of eye contact with him slowly rises. This had to be a nightmare. What Arvin's legs once were, wrapped in jeans, were now encased in the same black ooze from earlier. Forming a new pair of legs for him. And rapidly consuming the rest of his frame. The stuff that ate away at Arvin had towered over you faster than you could believe. Slowly stepping your way. Only Arvin's face now left. You wanted to scream out your lungs, call for Arvin. Wanted to help him. But all sense had left you. Terror had overcome you. Especially when you saw the rows of gigantuous, white razor-sharp teeth erupt out from the black being's skin. Engulfing Arvin's face from its forehead and chin. In a matter of seconds, Arvin had disappeared completely. Taken by the black pulsating goo that stood before you. A pair of white oval eyes stared at you as the jawline with long teeth stretched into what could be described as a smile.

With your back against the wall, the only response you could muster was throwing the closest thing beside you at it. A cup. It did nothing. The black mass towered over you as your legs buckled and crashed to the floor. "A-A...A-...Arvin...??"

"Well hello…" The creature spoke with a haunting voice. "Arvin is currently occupied... elsewhere." Chuckling to himself. As its jaws opened, your nightmare was complete. A red, ribbed, slimy tentacle of a tongue stretched outwards. Licking its so-called teeth. "He'll be fine, though." Approaching you, as you tried to crawl away. "I promise." It smiled; the drips of slime dangled from its teeth. "For now, I am hungry..."

"P-P-Please… I…" You pleaded, covering your eyes with your arms. Shielding you from the horror that was in front of you. The tears finally showing. Its arms were massive, bulking masses of muscles. It claws with sharp talons close to striking distance.

"Ooooow." It arched back up. "I see... "Nodding in sudden amusement at your shuddering frame, held in a fetus position. "Now, I get it." It chuckled. "I get it." Looking around the room. "I can't touch your lover." You notice the innards of the black ooze struggle and fight.

"A-Arvin's still in there…?"

"Oh, Yes." It said before the black ooze curled back from Arvin's face. Revealing him alive, and surprisingly well.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)!" He said. "There was this truck-" And as Arvin was telling his story, you notice the body language of the thing. Mimicking Arvin's way of speaking. As if Arvin was controlling the black ooze. But somehow was also… alive? Sentient? The story was impossible to follow as you watch the movements, streamlined with Arvin's. This was impossible. But you were glad Arvin was alive.

"Wh-... What was that about-... about...?" You shook your head, conflicted by so many things. "I have so many questions."

There was little time for Arvin to react as the ooze slipped back over his face. He protested; you could see the struggle. But somehow, the ooze retook control. "Sorry lovey-doveys… But it's time. Allow me to introduce myself." Bowing before you. "I'm Venom, and Arvin here-..." Tapping its belly. "-...is my new host." Laughing amusingly. "Together, we're going to have so much fun."

It's pale white eyes stared at you, as if it was expecting something from you. "And you are?" It asked. "It's customary to introduce yourself to newcomers."

"(Y/N)." You said in a shaken voice. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, I already knew that." It looked back up again. "I played along, out of kindness." Giving you a nod and a smile. Before turning its attention back to its surroundings. "Anyway. I hear them." It stopped, eyeing the direction the sound came from. It doesn't take much for your trained ears to hear the footsteps in the distance. The rushed, fast-paced ones. Cracking leaves and branches as they approached. Some walked with a determined stride. But they were with many.

"I thought it was you at first." It quipped back, showing you a sort of smile. "But I was wrong. Sorry!" The smile was highly uncomfortable to watch, the rows of teeth showing high and wide. The stench was something that came second. But not any better.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." Keeping your eyes on the lumbering figure standing in the room. It somehow had a muscular physique to it, despite the otherwordly colors. Black and rippled with some sort of veins protruding from its so-called skin. It's highly disturbing to look at.

"Little Arvin and I will explain later." Moving its arm towards you. Every movement made you jump. Especially this, seeing its talons close in. "Don't worry." It smiled, seeing you repulse from fear, with your back against the wall. "I won't hurt you." It said, but its tone was more taunting than comfortable at this point.

"Take this." Opening his black oozing hand to you. The skin bubbled and moved as something began to emerge. From the torso, something slid underneath the skin towards the hand. The happening alone made you sick. "Arvin won't need it." Revealing the gun, you knew Arvin carried with him from time to time. "He has a better weapon now." He grinned, tossing it in your lap as it looked for the newcomers.

"W-Wh… What do I do?" You've had practice with a gun. That was a fact. Arvin had shown you, taught you. But at this point. You were completely blank—pulling at the magazine. Trying to get the damn mechanism to work. But your shaking hands struggle to make anything work right now.

"You phew phew that thingie-... "Pointing at the gun with its talons. "-at any one of those outside." It said while watching you struggle. "Plenty of targets."

"I… I… don't…" You stammer, dropping it to the floor. "Fuck…!" Cursing more under your breath while you clammy hands struggle to pick it up.

You recoil back against the wall, not that you could go further. The oozes torso ripple and move as you saw Arvin reach out. His entire upper torso revealing from the black ooze. "Come 'ere." He said while handling the gun. Cocking and reloading it. It surprised you to see Arvin this relaxed. Normally his anger would have surfaced and lost control over the situation. But now, he seemed convinced about what was about to happen.

You jump scare a little as a magazine for the gun popped into your lap. "Found this in his back pocket." Venom said as the hole in his shoulder closed.

He took your one hand, his grip firm and reassuring, warm to the touch, to the point of bolstering your confidence. For a moment, you're lost in each other eyes, feeling a sense of humanity return. Bringing you back as he helped to put your fingers on the gun. Closing your second hand around the other. "Use it if you have to." He said. "Stay safe."

"Arvin… How do we know if they're-" Your voice was cut off. The air knocked from your lungs. As the world around you was reduced to splinters, smoke, and glass. Eardeafening explosions shook you to the very bone. It all happened so fast. In that split second, the door at the other end of the room was reduced to mere splinters. Chunks of wood scattered across the floor and dug itself into softer material than itself. A loud ring sounded in your ears as you lost your bearings completely. Your vision had doubled, twice, or thrice—more than enough to see Venom move away from you. Through the whirling dust and flying wood splinters, you see it darting across the floor. The room wasn't that big, but in an instance, it sat upon the figure standing in the doorframe. Its scream didn't reach your ear because it didn't have time to. You shouldn't have blinked, but your ramshackle mind had too. Before you had any further chance to see what was happening. The figure had disappeared. Leaving Venom standing there, licking its teeth with that weird-looking tongue.

You jolt back into life as you feel the air coming back into your lungs. Coughing the dust and dirt up from your windpipe, it had forced itself in. A shock racked your frame as an object hit your foot. "Keep that safe." Venom's voice called out, noticing the large shotgun in front of you. Before you looked up and responded to him. Venom was already gone. Luckily your vision had begun to come back. To your shock, around you was a circle of splinters and fragments of other metal embedded deep into the wall. Struck by panic again, you check yourself. Hands, legs, arms. A relieved smile cracked your lips. You weren't hurt. Venom and Arvin had most certainly protected you from the blast. Seeing the damage all around you. It was one mass of destruction. With your courage gathered, and like any natural instinct kicking in, you try to get up on your legs. Water. You needed water. And eye the sink.

Shards of glass shatter across the counter as you duck back to the floor. You try to stay low, hunched as the sound of gunshots increased. The automatic fire increased as voices called out. Unfamiliar and loud. Commands were given. Screaming, yelling. They must have seen you as the bullets tore through the windows. The impact clearly seen on the walls. Ripping and tearing through every inch of the house. You duck lower to the ground. Terrified to the bone. Frames falling from the wall, and shelves coming loose. Everything went flying as the bullets tore it all apart. You didn't dare to look up. Broken glass and furniture flew through the air. Nothing was safe. Feeling the chances of survival slim by every passing moment.

Outside was this constant carnage, ripped screams. Trees being felled and branches snapping like twigs in a storm. It was a warzone outside. You could hear it, feel it—the tearing of limbs and flesh. The cries of the injured were short-lived. If there were any at all. With the sense of time and place lost in the heat of battle. The sound of battle and slowly began dying down. Less and less guns were being fired. Arvin better returns in one piece; you prayed to the Lord. In a moment like this, faith was a scapegoat option. Because you felt helpless and prayed for a good outcome.

The sound of someone approaching across the porch nailed you to the floor. Once the bullets had started tearing through the walls, surely targeting you, you had fallen to the floor. Flat on your stomach in the dirt and debris. Praying for your life. And now you lay there, with the gun in reach of you. You frantically crawl towards it, realizing too late that you were trudging through the glass splinters. But the adrenaline kept you going. Your fingers shuddered across the cold metal of the gun. Struggling to get a grip on it again.

As the heavy treads of boots stamped across the porch towards the already blasted open door. The voice of a man, different than Arvin's. Talking to someone. Tears had already flooded your vision as you brought the iron sights up along your eyesight. Clouding your vision. The gun shook terribly in your hand, as you crawled back up against the wall where you sat earlier. Countless holes had penetrated through the wall, now shafts of light shining through. It's mystical to see the dust flying around in the sudden silence. Only focused on the impending footsteps.

You squinted your eyes, trying to avoid the look on the person's face once you had pulled the trigger. You knew the mechanism; it was rough. Requiring a strong pull on the trigger to fire. "ARVIN!" You screamed from the top of your lungs. Crying out for help. "VENOM!" Tears rolled down your cheeks as your gaze swept to the other end size. The backdoor flew open with force.

"Son of a bitch is here!" Another voice called from the back. Taking steps into the house. Hearing the floor creak under the weight. You swing the gun back and forth. Not sure who was going to show up first. Either way, they were closing in on you. You knew the layout better than the intruders. You knew where the backdoor was, and how he had to walk down the hallway into the kitchen. You swing back to the front door. The one in the back had to be a few footsteps away from you.

The flash blinded you for a moment, rocking your entire frame as the gun fired its bullet down the barrel. Smashing through the wooden wall into the hallway. Splintering chunks of wood across the floor and into the hallway. A hushed curse came from the hallway. Your eyes catch movement at the front door. Everything went so fast. The man appeared in the doorway, almost in a veil-like light, holding a rifle. When a tentacle of blackness shot up into its side. Gurgled screams shot up from its shuddering frame. His arms go limb as the rifle hits the floor, and disappears as fast as he appeared. Not a scream, nothing. Just gone. A glimpse of white eyes and teeth are more than enough to reassure Venom and Arvin were there. A relief. Seeing the black mass surge past the doorframe off the hallway. A short burst of automatic fire forced you back into that scared fetal position as it connected with all sorts of pottery in the kitchen beside you. Piercing through the wall, shattering plates, pans, and cups. But silenced with a gurgle of blood and air, followed by a hard thud on the floor. The only thing you could hear was your own ragged breath and spend cartridges rolling on the floor.

"(Y/N)?" Arvin sped around the corner, seeing the last of Venom's skin disappear behind him. "You alright?" You nodded as you caught your breath, slowly sitting yourself back up again. Arvin didn't need an answer. He saw the small cuts and splinters in your forearm. He looked around through the destruction, searching that familiar cabinet that now had fallen to the floor. Kicking the broken pieces away with his feet. Fishing the first aid out. By now, he knew quite well where to find it. Approaching you with a caring look on his face, yet also a smile. A rare smile for Arvin. "You look like shit." He said, looking down at you with that same taunting smile.

"T-That's..." You laughed but was interrupted by a rough coughing fit. "T-That's my line."

"Not today." Handing you a bottle of liquor, he found lying on the floor, surprising intact. "Just like old times. But this time…" He kneeled in front of you, brushing the dust from your lips with his other hand. "I'll help you." Cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your heart already raced from earlier. But in that split second, it skipped several. So it was true what Venom said; that was the last thing that crossed your mind. Before his lips connected with yours. Kissing you with great care and precision. The world had already fallen silent, but now there was nothing more but you and Arvin. "Thank you." You mumbled into the slowly sloppier kiss.

"No problem." Venom responded in his dark voice before Arvin could. The silence was broken by the two of you chuckling softly in each others' embrace. It was true. Venom had done so much for the two of you. He was the reason you both were alive. And together. Finally.

"You still have a lot to learn, Arvin." You groan, locking your jaw as you observe him struggle with the pincers. Trying to remove the last shards and splinters of glass and wood from your arm.

"Sit still." He leaned upwards, giving you a kiss. "I need to concentrate." Ticking the bottle with his pincers, as a sign of telling you to drink.

"How can I... when you kiss me like that." Arvin's proud glance at you said more than enough. With his other hand, he guided the bottle upwards to your lip. He knew how much pain you were having. The adrenaline had worn off quicker than you expected. Arvin knew that all too well. "The preacher won't approve of us." You sighed, rolling your head back against the wall. The liquor slowly numbing your senses.

"And he ain't a good one, you know that." Arvin hissed. The rest of his muttering was impossible to hear. And it might be for the better. From day one, Arvin didn't have a good hunch about that preacher. But he was shut up by his sister. She believed in him, like so many others.

"Ow, I want to pay him a visit." Venom said, emerging on a string of gooiness beside Arvin's head. "Let's have some fun with him." He smiled viciously. "I can read your mind, Arvin. You hate him. All the more reason to."

"Won't hurt to teach him a lesson…?" Arvin looked at you for approval. As if he needed that from you. You and Arvin were on the same level on so many things. The preacher was one of them. You also didn't go to church for the longest time. To the disapproval of many in the town. But it made the Sunday morning one hell of a good morning. Arvin stopped going too and came around your place at that every Sunday morning.

"You know how I think about him." You grinned. "But what about all this?" Eyeing the interior of your house. "It's ruined." The destruction all around was immense. Bullets had torn everything apart. The table and chairs, reduced to chunks of wood. Large shotgun shells had blasted holes through the walls and wreaked havoc on the interior. It's a wonder the walls were still standing. "I can't live here anymore…"

"I don't know…" Arvin looked around, raking his fingers through his brown curls, lost in his thoughts.

"And how about all those bodies?" The thought had just crossed your mind. You hadn't seen one, but there had to be at least ten of them scattered around your house and littering the forest.

"I'm still hungry…" Venom said, showing its row of teeth, smiling very broadly.

"He ate most of them…" Arvin said, as if that was giving any comfort.

"And then...Arvin? What's next?"

Arvin's gaze was locked elsewhere, thoughts far beyond the room, but said nothing. He hunched on his knees, turned around, and sat himself down beside you. "I don't know…" He sighed, resting his head against the wall. "But we'll figure something out." Putting his arm around you. Resting your head against one another, watching the dust dance in the air through the beams of sunlight, shining through the bullets holes. "Together."

#arvin russell x male reader #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x male!reader #Arvin Russell #arvin russell tom holland #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #mlm #male!reader #male reader #male reader imagine

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Text

Heavy is the Head Chapter 5: To Family!

ao3 link

“Am I the only one who feels like it’s been years since we managed to have Christmas day off?” Mouch asks looking up from his newspaper. It seems like they always end up on shift Christmas day, and spend the day putting out fires caused by people over filling their turkey deep fryers or Christmas tree fires. He’s not even sure why people do live christmas trees anymore; they’re just a recipe for disaster.

“That’s because it has been years,” Herrmann says flatly, and sips his coffee. He always seems to get more grouchy around the holidays because he’d rather be home with his family than on shift. “A shift always manages to swing it perfectly so they get Thanksgiving, Christmas eve and christmas off.”

“But we have it off this year,” Nathan offers helpfully. “Today’s Christmas eve so…”

“There’s always time for things to go wrong, kid,” Herrmann says dubiously. “Just ask Mouch.”

“Yeah, it’s scary how often C shift calls in with food poisoning,” Mouch agrees. It’s always something with that group.

“I’m not covering them this year. I’m not doing it,” Herrmann says firmly. “I’ve missed too many Christmases.”

***

“You don’t look to good there, chief,” Sylvie says, stopping by Matt’s office; he has his elbows resting on his desk and his face buried in his hands. “Is meeting my family really making you that nervous?”

Casey groans in response and runs his hands through his hair before leaning back in his chair. “No- I mean yes I am nervous, I’m just trying to figure out how to break some really bad news.”

“Oh no…”

“I’m not sure how an entire shift gets food poisoning all at once but-”

“C shift managed it again?” Sylvie finishes for him, her heart sinking. She knows Casey isn’t going to make anyone pull over time to cover the shift, but she also knows he’s going to lead by example and stay on shift with whomever else decides to stay. Which means no Christmas dinner.

“Yep, and half the A shift guys booked it out of state after shift this morning,” Casey sighs and stands up. “We can do day after Christmas with your family.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they won’t mind,” she says, trying not to sound too disappointed. She’d been really looking forward to the idea of a nice quiet dinner with her family and Casey.

“Well, I better go break the bad news.”

***

“Okay guys, bad news-” Casey barely has the words out before there’s groans spreading across the entire common room.

“Don’t say it chief. Don’t do it!” Herrmann says, backing toward the door, like he can escape what’s about to be said.

“C shift has somehow managed to get food poisoning-”

“Has a doctor verified that? If not you should require doctor’s notes from the whole lot of them!” Herrmann cries, he’s always the most desperate not to spend Christmas on shift.

“I’m not going to make anyone stay and pull overtime that doesn’t want to. I’ll pull floaters to cover who ever leaves, but I’ll be staying,” Casey finishes.

And Cruz lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well we can’t exactly let you pull a christmas shift without us.”

“We don’t have any better plans,” Stella says, taking a swig of her coffee where she’s sitting with her legs propped up on Severide’s lap. The Squad lieutenant nods in agreement.

“Ahh, Trudy’ll flay me for it, but holiday overtime pay is good,” Mouch says, and settles a little deeper into the couch.

“It’s either hang out with this loser off shift or hang out with him on shift,” Gallo says and playfully ruffles Ritter’s hair. “Might as well be useful.”

“Aw come on!” Herrmann protests. “I can’t be the only one not staying!”

“Herrmann, if you want to go be with your family that’s perfectly okay. No one here’s going to judge you,” Casey says understandingly. Most of them don’t have family outside of 51 anyway, so they all’d end up hanging out with each other anyway.

“I’m not gonna be the only one who doesn’t stay,” Herrmann says angrily. Casey can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. “Especially when Joe is missing Brian’s first Christmas. I’m staying.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t tempt me chief!”

“Okay, I won’t. And I’ll go let headquarters know we don’t need any floaters,” Casey says with a sigh. He hates that he had to ask them to do that. Even if they’d all end up hanging out with each other for Christmas, doing it not on shift is different than doing on shift. It’s more relaxing.

“Hey chief, can I duck off for about an hour?” Nathan asks, catching up to Casey as he retreats to his office. “I’ll keep my radio on and take my gear with me in case we get a call.”

Casey sighs, he’s not a big fan of letting people run off during shift, but he’s done his fair share of it in his day so he can’t exactly deny the candidate his request. “Yeah, just be back in an hour and make sure your lieutenant’s okay with it.”

“Yes sir, and you won’t regret it,” Nathan says and springs off to go do whatever it is he wants to do.

“That was lenient of you,” Sylvie comments.

“Yeah, well call it my Christmas present to the kid. He’s staying an extra 24 hours on shift,” Casey shrugs.

“And my family is about an hour away,” she adds with a smile and bumps his arm with her elbow.

“I thought they were going to come up when we could actually have a proper dinner.”

“They’re going to stay at my place until we get off. I think they’re planning on coming to visit the house,” she says.

“Are you sure you want them meeting everyone at once?” Casey snorts. He’s excited to meet her family, but meeting everyone at 51 can be a little much to take in all at once, especially when Herrmann has been thrown into full on grinch mode.

“Yeah, i think it’ll be fun,” Sylvie says confidently. “Don’t worry about it babe.” She plants a kiss on Matt’s cheek and then ducks off. “I gotta go do inventory.”

***

“Hey, Lieutenant, where’s our probie going?” Gallo asks as Nathan ducks out the back door.

“He’s running an errand and since we’re going to be here for two days I figured I’d let him,” Stella replies disinterestedly.

“Cool, can go run an errand too?” Gallo asks, prompting a glare from his lieutenant. “Kidding…”

“So what are we going to do for dinner tomorrow?” Ritter asks, spinning his chair around to face Gallo. “It’s too short notice to do a turkey, it won’t have time to thaw or anything.”

“Steak and potatoes?” Gallo suggests.

“We did that last year,” Herrmann says, instantly shooting down the idea.

“Shut up, you like steak and potatoes and you know it,” Cruz says, looking up from his magazine. “You get away with acting like the grinch every year, but this one. All your attitude does is make everyone else miserable.”

“Well maybe I was looking forward to spending the holiday with my family!” Herrmann retorts.

“And you don’t think I was too?” Cruz snaps back. “But I made my choice and so did you. The least you could do is try to not make everything so miserable.”

“I’m going to go do inventory,” Herrmann grumbles and excuses himself from the common room.

“This gonna be a long shift,” Gallo mutters under his breath. If everyone is already this snappy with each other it’s going to be bad by Christmas day, and only get worse.

“I’m going to go help him,” Ritter says and stands up to follow his lieutenant. “I’ll help you brainstorm Christmas dinner when we get done. And we’ll get Nathan to help us out too.”

“Sounds good,” Gallo says and gets up to find something to snack on. He’s pretty sure he’s the only one who doesn’t mind being on shift for Christmas, in fact he likes it. He likes being with his fire house family for the holiday, because when he’s not- when he’s at home alone all he ends up thinking about the family he lost and what he wouldn’t give to have one more Christmas with them, to watch his sister squeal for joy one last time…

***

“Hey Lieutenant,” Ritter says cautiously as he walks out onto the bay floor and approaches his lieutenant who is angrily making check marks on the inventory sheet and slamming compartment doors.

“What?” Herrmann snaps angrily, clearly displeased with the interruption.

“Are you okay?” Ritter tries, knowing it’s liable to get his head bitten off.

The lieutenant slams one of the compartments closed and turns to glare at him with a look that clearly says what do you think?

“Sorry,” Ritter mumbles and looks away. He wishes there were a way he could make the lieutenant feel better. He can’t count the amount of times Herrmann has picked him up off the floor and made him feel better, and he just wants to do the same for him.

Herrmann softens and lets his arms fall to his side, seeming to realize he snapped. “Sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean to get snappy with you. I’ll be fine.”

“But you’re not right now,” Ritter says looking back up at him.

Herrmann sighs and sets his clipboard down on the truck. “Just a little pissed. I’ll live though.”

Ritter nods. “I’m sorry you don’t get to go home and see your family.”

The lieutenant shrugs. “Cruz was right. I’m choosing to stay, so it’s no one’s fault but mine. Shouldn’t’a taken my anger out on you.”

“It’s okay lieutenant,” Ritter says, forgivingly.

“Nah, not really, but I appreciate that,” Herrmann says in a rare moment of tenderness, then shakes himself free of it and hands Ritter the clipboard. “Check stuff off as I call it off to you.”

“Yes, sir,” Ritter says, and help but smile at his lieutenant’s odd gruffness. It always kind of amuses him; he nevers stays soft and gentle for long before getting uncomfortable and reverting back to his default grouchiness.

***

“Truck 81, Squad 3, residential accident.”

“Finally, something to do,” Stella says and swingers her legs off Kelly’s lap that she was using as a footrest. Things have been a little down in the dumps since Casey gave them the bad news, and the atmosphere was just miserable to be around, so she’s glad for an escape from the melancholy mood and depressing hum drum that’s been dragging on for hours.

“Lieutenant, Marks isn’t back yet,” Gallo reports as he and Mouch meet her in the bay. And he seems slightly smug about it, like he’s been waiting for an excuse to bust the new guy’s balls about something. Gallo’s been nothing but welcoming to the new candidate, but she’s always kind of gotten the impression that he’s just waiting for the house’s golden child to trip up somewhere- and he is the golden child.

“Well we’re not waiting for him,” Stella says pulling herself up into the truck. They don’t have time, and he’s already late getting back from his one hour leave request.

***

“I told him not to try to move the bookshelf, I said there was no point in rearranging my whole house since he’d be leaving the day after Christmas, but he just had to go moving the damn thing, and then, big surprise, it fell on him!” the woman standing in the front door of the little yellow house they arrive at is hollering at them before Severide even has both feet on the ground.

“Cruz, you’re with me, Tony and Capp, stay behind, I’ll let you know what we need,” Severide says as he approaches the woman.

“What kind of shelf are you talking about here?” Stella asks, beating Severide to her by mere seconds, she has Gallo with her.

“I don’t know,” the woman says cluelessly. “A big one?”

It’s encouraging that she doesn’t seem super worried, there’s a good chance that means the scene inside isn’t that bad.

“I told you not to call the fire department!” they’re greeted with a not so friendly shout from the guy laying on the ground with the bookshelf tipped over on both of his legs. It’s not a ridiculously heavy or large shelf, and the man probably doesn’t have any broken bones, just bruises- it’s really something truck could’ve handled on their own, but Severide doesn’t mind being there. It’s something to do.

“Shut up! Are you ever not a dick? They’re here to help!” the woman snaps back.

“Well I don’t need it!” the man shouts back.

“Alright, how are you feeling?” Stella says squatting next to the guy.

“I’m fine, my bitch sister is just a drama queen.”

“Can you not be awful for five seconds!” the woman snaps at him angrily.

“Ma’am, we need you to back up and stop yelling at your brother, please,” Severide warns and pushes her back just a little.

“If i’m so awful then why do you always make me come up here to this horrible city!”

“I don’t! Mom does! If it were up to me I’d never look at your stupid face again!”

“Ma’am please,” Severide insists, patiently and pushes her back a little more.

“You’re legs don’t hurt or anything?” Stella asks, eyeing the shelf.

“How do you want to play this Lieutenant?” Severide asks, watching his girlfriend as she contemplates the shelf.

“The four of us can probably just pick it, and if he’s as fine as he says-”

“I’m not lying! I’m fine!” the man interrupts Stella.

“-than he can just pull himself free,” Stella finishes, and looks like she’s about 2 seconds from getting up and leaving the guy trapped under the bookshelf.

“I’m never coming back here,” the man grumbles as Stella gets up and gets in position on the book shelf to help lift it.

“Good-”

“Would you both please, shut. Up!” Cruz suddenly shouts, piping up for the first time, and sounds like he’s about to blow a gasket. “Just be grateful you get to spend time with your family for Christmas! At least pretend! Not everyone gets to spend christmas with their family, some of us have to work and help idiots like you guys!”

Severide lifts his eyebrows in surprise as the firefighter continues his rant.

“You people are lucky! Some of us would love to be home with their family, spending time with their son on his first christmas on the planet. But we don’t get to! So just shut up, and think about that!”

“Cruz-”

“Think about the sacrifices people are making-”

“Cruz!” Severide raises his voice, and cuts off the firefighter. He’s not angry with him, hell him yelling at these two idiots has worked to get them to stop talking, but he can’t have one of his firefighters chewing out a victim, even if it’s one who’s miserable to be around. “Go wait in the truck.”

“What?” Cruz demands, looking shocked.

“Go to the truck and take a breath. The three of us got this,” he repeats.

“But-”

“Go.”

“Yes sir.”

The woman watches Cruz go with her mouth hanging open, and her eyes wide. “The nerve-”

“Don’t,” Kelly warns, not about to tolerate some stranger trying to bad mouth Cruz, even if him yelling at her was out of line. He makes a mental note to talk to Cruz after the call. Nor to yell at him for his behavior, but because the guy’s been quiet the whole shift and is really seeming down.

***

“Cruz a word.”

Joe stops in his tracks at the sound of Severide’s voice behind him. The lieutenant doesn’t sound pissed, but he can still practically feel the talking to coming.

“Listen, lieutenant, I’m sorry but-”

“I’m not here to get on your case, Joe,” Severide says with a rare softness and understanding that takes Joe by surprise.

“O-oh, then what?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Severide replies, and Joe can see the concern on his face. “What you were saying on that call… you can take tomorrow off. Squad will be fine running as a three man.”

“That wouldn’t be fair,” Joe replies. If Herrmann isn’t going home to spend the holiday with his family, then he won’t either.

“It’s not fair that you have to cover for C shift because they all got food poisoning. It’s not fair that you have to be working for your son’s first Christmas,” Severide reasons. “If you want the shift off, it’s yours. You not being there isn’t fair to Chloe or Brian either.”

“I appreciate the offer lieutenant, but I can’t,” Joe says and turns to go. He wants nothing more than to go home and spend Christmas with Chloe and Brian, but he can’t make himself do it. Not while everyone else is staying behind. He signed up to be here. He chose it. He agreed to missing birthdays and first christmases, sporting events and school projects… It was never something he thought about as a younger single firefighter, and part of him wishes he had… not that it would’ve made him rethink becoming a firefighter. He might have just been able to prepare himself a little better.

“The job doesn’t always have to come first.” Severide’s words stop him. “We swore to serve this city, but sometimes it’s okay to do something for yourself.”

Joe smiles and look at him. “I know lieutenant, but I’m not going to leave while my crew stays behind and works just to make myself happy.”

“You’re a good man, Cruz.”

“You are too, Severide.”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s nice of you to say,” Severide says with a shrug. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

***

“I’ve got a gift for you,” Gallo says and pushes a mop and bucket toward Nathan as he comes out of the cold. “The lieutenant wants the bay mopped and then the trash changed.”

“What-” Nathan tries to protest. He’d been out trying to be helpful, and he’d had permission.

“You missed a run,” Gallo insists and pushes the mop into Nathan’s arms. “I don’t make the rules, but you shouldn’t have been late.”

“But-” Nathan makes a second attempt to argue and this time looks to Severide for help hoping the lieutenant will back him up.

“Don’t look at me kid, I’m not your boss, and as much as I hate to admit it, Gallo’s right,” Severide says with a shrug. “You’re best off to swallow it and just mop the floor.

“Yes, sir,” Nathan says ducking his head, and giving up on fighting his punishment. He’s got a lot of stuff to do before tomorrow, and now he also has chores to do as well so he’s going to have multitask to hard.

***

“So my family decided they aren’t actually going to stop by the station today,” Sylvie says coming into Casey’s office and plopping herself down on the couch without knocking. She sounds disappointed and upset.

“I’m really sorry, Sylvie,” Matt sighs, putting his paperwork aside to get up and sit next to her on the couch. “If you want take tomorrow off to spend time with your family while they’re here, you can. I’ll find you a floater-”

“Don’t even think about it, Matt,” Sylvie says and sits up. “I’m abandoning Mackey and letting her get stuck with someone awful like Ogle on Christmas.”

“Why’d they decide not to come visit?” Matt asks, resting one hand on her leg comfortingly. He can tell she’s putting on her “I’m trying my very best to be happy, but am actually super sad” face, and it hurts. He hates seeing her upset.

“They were tired after the drive, and didn’t feel like fighting city traffic to get here. Not that I can blame them,” she replies with a little shrug. “I get it.”

“Still sucks that you don’t get to see them until the day after Christmas,” Matt says, and wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders and pulls her close to him.

“It’s okay, it’s all part of the job. Besides, I have family here that I get to spend the holiday with,” Sylvie says quietly and leans her head against his chest.

Matt smiles and rests his chin on her head; she always sees the positive- the best in everything. He’s still not sure what he did to deserve her.

***

“Hey, Cruz you okay, buddy?” Herrmann asks, walking past the squad firefighter who’s sitting with his head rested on the table.

“I’m fine,” he says in an uncharacteristically standoffish tone.

“Listen, uh, sorry I was being such a downer earlier. This just sucks ya know?” Herrmann says, trying to cheer Cruz up at least a little bit. He knows what it’s like missing big important firsts with kids; he missed not only Lee Henry's first birthday but his first christmas too. Cindy had brought him up to the station for part of the day both times, but it’s not the same. “All this- I’m sorry you’re missing Brian’s first Christmas.”

Cruz lifts his head off the table and looks up at him with sad brown eyes. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“I know you were,” Herrmann says and sits down next to him. “And hey, I know what it’s like, and you tell yourself missing this stuff is what you signed up for when you took the job, but it really don’t help.”

“No,” Cruz agrees sadly.

Herrmann wishes there were more he could do for Joe to help him feel better about all this, but the truth is it sucks. “I know it’s not the same, but you can celebrate the day after. There’s always room for new traditions. And he’s too young to remember it so at least he won’t be bitter about it.”

Cruz snorts and smiles a little. “Always the optimist, huh Herrmy.”

“Eh, well, you know someone’s gotta be. And I’ve done enough being negative for one day.”

“Thanks buddy.”

***

“You okay, Kelly?” Stella asks and stops walking as she notices Severide standing looking at the wall of fallen heroes.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly, but doesn’t sound like it; he looks a little lost.

“Are you sure about that?” Stella asks and sidles up close to him, wrapping her arms around one of his. He’s looking at the picture of Shay.

He sighs and glances at her. “It just hits me sometimes, you know?”

Stella nods and leans her against his shoulder. She never had the pleasure of meeting Shay but from the little bit Kelly’s told her about her, they would’ve gotten along.

“I know,” Stella whispers. It’s been years since the paramedic died, but she knows Kelly is still feeling it at least a little. That’s why he went and stole the door off the old 61 when it got scrapped.

“She was my best friend. I could’ve spent the rest of my life with her,” He says softly and then cracks a smile. “She saved my sorry ass more times than I can count.”

“Sounds like me and her would’ve had something to bond over,” Stella replies and gives his hand a little squeeze.

He snorts, finding amusement in Stella’s comment and nods. “Yeah, yeah you would’ve.”

“Excuse me,” Stella pulls away from Kelly, startled by the unfamiliar voice drifting timidly toward them.

“Hey,” Stella says turning around to face the speaker who’s standing with a man who’s probably her husband and a younger guy- a son maybe. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking Sylvie,” the older man says.

“Oh, um…” Stella glances at Kelly who gives a little shrug that says ‘how the hell should I know where she is?’. “She might be-” She catches sight of Mackey walking out toward the bay. “Hey, Mackey, where’s Brett?”

The paramedic pauses for a second. “I think she’s in the chief’s office.”

“Thanks,” Stella calls to her before turning her attention back to the family standing in front of her. “So she’s apparently in with the chief at the moment, not exactly sure why, but I can give her a message or you guys can leave contact info so we can let you know when she’s not busy.”

“Oh, we can come back. She had just said she wanted us to come by and meet everyone-”

“Woah, wait, are you guys her family?” Stella says, connecting the dots.

“Yes,” the woman laughs.

“Oh! Welcome to 51!” Stella cries, dropping her formality. “You guys can go in there and start meeting everyone. I’ll go get her-”

“She’s not busy?”

“No, it’s fine. The chief’ll wanna meet you guys too,” Stella replies waving off the notion. She’s entirely Sylvie’s told them that she’s dating the chief.

***

Sylvie can feel the nervous energy coming off Matt as they walk to the common room; it’s a little funny. She’s never seen him like this.

“Matt, it’ll be fine. They’ll like you. I promise,” she reasures him just before they walk into the common room.

“Sylvie! Hi sweetie!” Her mom cries as soon as she sets eyes on her and pulls her into a tight hug. It feels like forever since she’s got one of those hugs, and she didn’t even realize how much she missed it until now.

“Hi mom,” Sylvie mumbles, she wants to stay like forever, but she pulls away anyway. “Um, this is Matt, and it looks like you guys met everyone else.”

“I’m so happy to finally be meeting you, Matt!” her mom says enthusiastically and shakes his hand that he has extended out to her. “I’m Jan, and this my husband Craig.”

“Good to meet you sir,” Casey says politely and shakes her dad’s hand. Her dad gives Matt a small head nod, that says he approves; Matt’s the first person to have ever gotten that head nod on a first meeting.

“I’m Daniel,” her brother speaks up and takes his turn shaking Matt’s hand. In most families, it’s the dad’s approval you have to worry about, and while her dad definitely isn’t a quick sell, her brother is probably the hardest to impress. He’s younger than her, but he’s always been protective like a big brother.

“We brought you all some pizza,” Sylvie’s mother says and points to the stack of boxes sitting on the counter. “I know it’s not four course christmas meal or anything, but we thought you guys might enjoy it. Sylvie told us you guys are all pulling a long shift.”

***

“Nobody here is going to complain about pizza, you’d be amazed how quickly one of those things will disappear around here,” Stella says inviting herself into the conversation and grabbing four slices out of the box.

“Some of those better be for Severide,” Casey warns, knowing full well she’s more than capable of downing four slices.

The truck lieutenant stops like a deer caught in headlights, she was definitely taking all those slices for herself. “Yes chief… definitely. Takin’ em to Severide…”

Casey rolls his eyes. “As you can see we eat more than you might expect.”

Jan laughs at this comment, and Casey feels a small amount of success that he got one of his future in laws to laugh.

“Between Craig, Daniel, Sylvie and I, believe me, this family knows how to put away a couple boxes too. I’m no stranger to hollow legs,” she replies, clearly amused by what a hit the pizza is.

“Thank you Missus Brett,” Mouch says, being the first to show some real manners as he takes two slices. “But I’ve got to warn you, most of us here have two hollow legs and at least an arm. There can never be too much food, especially when it’s food like this. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, by the way. You did a fine job raising that young lady.”

“It’s our pleasure!” Jan replies with a pleasant smile.

“Randell Mcholand, by the way,” Mouch says, seeming to remember to introduce himself. “Everyone here calls me Mouch though.”

“And why is that?” Jan asks innocently.

“Well you see…”

***

“What do you think the probie’s up to?” Ritter asks as he comes up to Gallo. Gallo’s been acting distant and spacey all shift, and he’s about 90% sure that it has to do with the holiday and missing his family. But Nathan has been acting weird and secretive as well, and that can’t go unnoticed, it might even provide a good distraction for Gallo.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” Gallo says looking out the window to the bay where Nathan is pacing back and forth talking on the phone. “This is the fourth phone call he’s made today.”

“You wanna ask him about it?” Ritter asks, hoping Gallo will tag along. He’s not one for mischief or messing with the new guy, but he knows Gallo is, and he knows it’ll cheer him up.

“I don’t think he’d tell us,” Gallo says squinting out the window.

“What are you two idiots up to?” Mackey asks, and pushes her way between them.

“We’re trying to figure out what the candidate is up to,” Ritter answers and watches the kid pace back and forth talking on the phone. He is a little curious.

“Did you try asking him?” She asks skeptically.

“He wouldn’t tell us,” Gallo says confidently, seeming to get a little more invested in the idea of figuring this out.

“Maybe,” Mackey says with a shrug and heads to the bay doors.

“Where are you going?” Gallo protests.

“To ask him,” she says disappearing through the doors.

“Should we follow her?” Ritter asks.

“No, We’ll watch from here,” Gallo replies as Mackey approaches Nathan and greets him. They exchange a few words that Ritter can’t make out and then Mackey smiles and heads back to the door.

“Well???” Ritter and Gallo both say in unison as she walks back into the hallway.

“Well what?”

“What did he say?”

“Sorry boys, it’s top secret,” she says with a coy smile and heads into the common room.

***

12 hours later...

Engine 51, Truck 81, Ambulance 61, Squad 3, house fire, smoke showing.”

“What a way to start off Christmas morning,” Mouch grumbles and hauls himself off the couch. Calls on Christmas are always the worst, they’re to be expected on Christmas eve, but Christmas Day? They suck. Always. Christmas is supposed to be a time of joy and happiness, not emergencies and fires and misery and heartbreak.

“Marks, we need a man behind today, you’re it.” Stella asks, stopping the young recruit before he can get on the truck. Mouch is pretty sure the kid’s still getting punished for missing the truck the day before.

“Please no lieutenant,” Nathan pleads desperately. Mouch can see him die on the inside.

“You have the least experience. You’re staying.” Kidd says with more force this time.

“Yes lieutenant.”

“We’re really riding short handed again?” Mouch questions, swinging up into the truck. It seems like a risky move.

“Yes,” Stella replies shortly. “Now roll us out of here.”

“Yes ma’am,” Mouch says and gives her a playful solute before turning the key and bringing the truck roaring to life.

“I’m not going to complain,” Gallo jokes and stretches himself out in the back. “There’s more space back here when it’s just me.”

“Maybe next time I’ll make you be the man behind,” Stella says flatley, promptly shutting Gallo up.

***

“The tree just went up! The whole living room-” a woman with a smoke stained face is crying frantically to Casey before he even has his white helmet mounted on his head. He’s first on scene even after doing his 360 check around the house, but he can see the trucks coming down the street. “My husband went back for the kids!”

Casey grits his teeth. Christmas trees always go from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. It takes a matter of minutes for them to fully engulf a room. “It’ll be okay Ma’am. How many kids do you have?”

“Two,” she sobs helplessly, gripping Casey with desperate hands. “They sleep on the top floor.”

“Unit’s be advised, we have three confirmed rescues, all possibly on the second floor, and safety bars on all first floor windows,” Casey says into his radio as the trucks pull into place by the house. It’s only a matter of seconds after that the everyone is piling out of the trucks. “Squad 3 I want you guys on search, 51 you’re interior attack and cover for squad. This is gonna be a hot one, started with a christmas tree.”

“You got it chief,” Herrmann says energetically. “Ritter, pull the inch and three quarters.”

“Where do you want us?” Stella asks, approaching Casey. He can see she’s ready to jump in there, but that’s not a truck's job today.

“You guys are RIT,” Casey says.

“Chief-”

“That’s an order lieutenant,” Casey says firmly and turns his attention back to the structure that’s already belching dark smoke into the late morning sky as Squad and 51 make entry through the front door. He can feel the heat coming off the house just from where he’s standing. It’ll be a miracle if the family makes it out alive.

“Gallo, get the K-12 and start cutting the safety bars off the windows,” Stella orders walking back toward her crew. Casey knows being stuck on RIT sucks, but he’s glad to see she’s taking a proactive approach to it. “Mouch, me and you are going to put ladders on every second story window up there in case our guys need to bail out.”

“Battalion 25 chief to main, requesting a second engine company and two more ambos to my location,” Casey says into his radio as he waves Brett and Mackey over to check out the woman coughing in his arms.

“Acknowledged Battalion 25.”

He can tell just from looking at this one that it’s going to be an all dayer.

“It’s rolling pretty bad in here,” Severide’s voice crackles over the radio, making Casey shift nervously. The place looks like it could flash over at any second.

“You guys have one minute and then I want you out,” Casey replies, judging the smoke. A minute seems generous but there are three victims inside.

“Chief, we got the family and are coming out,” Severide reports no more than 30 seconds later, and Casey allows himself a small sigh of relief. They’re not out yet, but just the fact that they were able to find the family so quick seems like an act of God.

Squad 3 and 51 exit the structure with the father and two kids with them just as engine 91 rolls onto the scene to assist with fire suppression. The mother breaks off at a run from 61 to go to the family.

“Case, that was crazy,” Severide laughs, making a b-line toward Casey. The dad and two kids look relatively unschathed. “Like Christmas miracle crazy.”

“What do you mean?” Casey asks as the lieutenant reaches him.

“I mean I’ve never seen fire do what that fire just did,” Severide replies with a smile that only comes along when he’s coming down from inhuman amounts of adrenaline. “The dad and kids were in a stairwell that was somehow mostly clear of smoke- like the whole place was rolling and then I don’t know what happened. As we were coming out our path out cleared.”

“Don’t pull my leg, Sev,” Casey scoffs. He’s heard more than his fair share of crazy stories about fire doing crazy unexpected things, but he was never sure any of them were true, this one especially.

“I couldn’t make it up even if I tried. You should’ve been in there.” Severide laughs, and heads off to find Stella. It’s a simple off handed remark, one that probably shouldn’t even be taken right down to the letter, but it still hits Casey in a weird way. He hadn’t really thought about that kind of thing when he took the chief position- the impact it might have on Severide and even everyone else, that they might miss making entry with him. He can’t help but wonder if Severide didn’t actually mean it a little bit: he should’ve been in there.

***

Even the squad stays and helps with knocking the fire out; Herrmann can’t remember the last time he saw Severide pick up a hose line and use it, but he’s there right alongside everyone else helping throw water at what’s become a glorified bonfire. Casey ordered everyone out of the house and it’s all strictly defensive exterior fire attack now. The fire’s big, the people are all out safely, and it’s christmas. There’s no reason to be risking anyone's lives by doing interior attack. Even truck has been called off from venting. The only job now is to drown the damn thing, and with two engines and the combined force of all the companies they might actually get back to the station on time to have a decent dinner.

***

“You guys smell that?” Cruz asks, stepping off the truck, and peeling off his bunker gear as he sniffs the air. There’s the usual smells of diesel, floor cleaner, and the bitter smell of structure fire that makes his nostrils burn coming from everyone’s gear; the fire was a big nasty one with a lot of black smoke and nasty stuff. He’s pretty sure the house will be smelling like it for weeks if not months, and he’s also pretty sure the smell will be stuck in his nostrils for a long time, but there’s something else in the air too- something good. Something warm and inviting.

Mouch frowns and sniffs too. “Smells like turkey… and other stuff, but there’s no way Marks could make a turkey in the two hours it took us to take care of that garage fire.”

“Well it sure smells like he did,” Herrmann say, and leads the charge through the double doors leading inside. Everyone shrugs to each other and follows him inside.

Cruz nearly runs into the engine lieutenants as he stops right in front of him in the doorway of the common room. He barely has time to register why Herrmann has stopped when a shout rings out from the people gathered inside-

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” -it’s everyone- Chloe is there with Brian, Trudy, Boden, Donna, little Terrance, Cindy and all of Herrmann’s kids- even Brett’s family is there, along with Kylie who was under strict orders from Casey and Stella not to work on the holidays. He can barely believe it, and the joy swelling up inside of him as he makes eye contact with Chloe from across the room as she cradles their son in her arms- it’s the greatest gift he could ever recieve on Christmas.

Nathan is sitting on the counter grinning from ear to ear. He’s just made everyone’s day or possibly even everyone’s year and he knows it.

“I can’t believe you guys are here!” Joe cries and rushes over to his wife and son, wrapping them in a big hug. “I can’t believe it!”

“Of course we’re here, baby!” Chloe laughs, and kisses him.

***

“Candidate, what did you do?” Casey laughs and walks up to the house’s newest member. He could practically feel the whole house’s moral jump from zero to 60 as soon as they walked in the room. He’d known the candidate was up to something, but he never expected this- everyone’s here.

“I just pitched the idea to a good old retired chief,” Nathan replies. “He was the one who knew how to contact people.”

“Don’t let him give me all the credit,” Boden says sternly with a rare smile on his face. “He planned everything. I just made phone calls. But we should probably eat all this food.”

He gestures to the various platters of food sitting on the counters and tables.

“I second that,” Casey says and looks around at everyone already mingling with their loved ones.

“Alright, everyone listen up!” Boden announces loudly, silencing the room and demanding it’s full attention in a way Casey still hasn’t been able to master. “We’ll eat in just a minute, but first Nathan here gets to say some stuff because all this was his idea.”

Nathan looks a little taken by surprise, but doesn’t blanch at the sudden shift of attention on him.

“Um, I’ll make this quick because we all know how things go around here, but about 10 year ago Kelly- lieutenant Severide saved my life and ever since then this house has become like family. I haven’t been here long, but I know you all see each other as family and even your family’s outside 51 are family to each other- and family should be together on Christmas! Now lets eat before the tones drop!”

“Here here!” Herrman says, prompting everyone else to do the same. He’s the happiest Casey has seen him since this 48 hour shift started. “To family!”

***

“So, have you guys thought about tying the knot?” Sylvie’s mother asks, part of the way through dinner, and Casey nearly blows coffee out of his nose.

“Mom!” Sylvie scolds. Casey had a feeling this would be coming up, her mother seems like the kind of mom who would ask about it, but he just hadn’t expected it while eating dinner with the entire house present.

“You know what they say, Sylvie. Three times is the charm,” Daniel adds, and there’s a hint of disapproval in his tone.

“We want to make sure we’re both good and ready before we go down that road,” Sylvie says and looks over at him. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Right,” Casey says through a cough, and blinks his eyes as they start to water from him almost choking. He’s kind of grateful pretty much everyone else is too involved in their own conversation to have really heard the question. He does want to marry Sylvie. He’s sure of that much, and he’s even pretty sure Sylvie would say yes if he asked, but he’s not sure if he’s ready… Ready to put himself out there again, ready to try to start a family again, ready to open himself up to hurt again. And frankly he’s not sure if she’s ready either. She had her fair share of failed relationships as well.

“You know what that’s code for, right,” Severide whispers, leaning close to him so no else can hear him. “She wants you to ask.”

“Shut up Sev,” Casey hisses under his breath. “You’ve been beating around the bush Kidd way longer.”

Severide gulps awkwardly and scoots away from Casey in a hasty retreat. Matt gets it though. He knows Kelly would die for Stella, the same way he himself would die for Sylvie, but the Squad lieutenant has also had his fair share of heartbreak and betrayal. He’s scared, though he’d never admit it outloud, and Casey can’t blame him. People tend to look at Severide and his past actions and see someone afraid of commitment, someone like Benny, but that’s not Kelly. He’s one of the most committed people Matt’s ever met, he’s simply scared of heartbreak.

“Well, I guess it’s good to make sure you’re both ready,” Sylvie’s mother says before taking a bite of mashed potatoes, but Casey catches her undertone that clearly says, ‘ask my daughter to marry you already.’ Matt sighs. It could be worse though, Sylvie’s parents could hate him and be gunning for them to break up… he’s not entirely sure her dad likes him, but that kind of goes with dad territory.

***

“Hey, you did good with this, kiddo,” Kelly says and bumps Nathan on the shoulder gently with his fist as he comes to get a second round of food. There’s a proud look in the lieutenant’s eyes, and he’s smiling bigger than Nathan’s used to seeing from him.

“I didn’t do much,” he shrugs.

“Don’t undersell yourself, kid,” The squad lieutenant says and glances over his shoulder at the group of firefighters mingling with their families, and a fond loving smile drifts across his face. It’s a rare kind of smile, and not just coming from Kelly, but anyone. It’s soft and gentle, fond and loving, and content. This is Severide’s family, and he loves them. “This is the happiest any of us have been on Christmas in a long time, and you made it happen.”

“It’s what they deserve,” Nathan says simply. He didn’t do it for cool points or to in anyone good graces. He did it for the crew that saved him, the crew that protected the neighborhood he grew up in, the crew that built his school a library, the crew that took care of him… the crew that’s now his family, he did it for them because no matter how hard he tries he’ll never be able to thank them enough.

Severide looks at him with a mix of pride and fatherly love and smiles a warm smile. “The future of this house is in good hands.”

It seems to make perfect to Severide to say this, but it takes Nathan by surprise. He’s never thought of himself of being the future of the house, he’s just here to work and learn and help people and repay everything this house did for him. He also never really thought about how Severide might be worried about something like leaving the house in good hands, to Nathan he’s this unstoppable force welded into the fibers of 51 that can’t ever leave. He hasn’t been here long, but he can’t picture the house without Severide. He can’t even picture being a senior firefighter. The future is so big, none of it seems real- the only thing that seems real is the present.

He’s about to say something to the lieutenant that saved his life and gave it purpose, but before he can even open his mouth the tones sound prompting a groan from everyone in the room. It’s time for them to go back to work, to answer the call.

#chicago fire #chicago fire fic #oc fic #cf fic #cf fan fic #stellaride #brettsey #enjoy the fic!#have fun liking!#to all 30 of you!#I've said before why that number is so low :)#it's because of a lack of reblog #and yes. i will go on this little rant every time i post.#if you don't like it either reblog #or don't read my tags #:)

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rohad93 · 4 years

Text

Moonlit Masquerade: Turning Pages

Enjoy~

It was a warm, early summer day as Luz flew through the air back toward the owl house, grinning giddily to herself as the wind whipped through the long hair that laid over her undercut on the left side, her cloak flapping wildly behind her off her shoulders as the wind tugged at the short sleeves of her dark purple tunic.

She did a giddy spin and the leather pouches that held her glyphs and various other things flapped against the legs of her black pants.

The twenty-one-year-old zipped between the trees on her staff, she was so excited, she couldn't wait to show her mom and Lilith what she had bought today after packing up her stuff at the market.

"Luz, your home!" Hooty screeched the moment she burst through the tree line.

"Hey, Hooty." She smiled hopping off the staff with a flourish as he opened the door for her and she ran inside, dropping her satchel by the stairs.

"Mom, Lily!?" she called.

"In the kitchen!" Eda's voice called back.

She hurried into the kitchen where the two sisters were sitting at the table talking. It always surprised Luz at the wrinkles that had begun to line their faces over the last six years, though they both still looked great. Eda claimed hers were from Luz, and Lilith claimed hers were from Eda, which always made the young woman laugh, and Eda make a face.

Before she could think to say anything, Owlbrt was hooting at her from the counter.

"Hey buddy, you wanna play with Mochuelo?" She asked the small owl, who hooted wildly at her.

"Okay, okay, Owlbert, I know you missed your pal," she laughed.

She unscrewed the wooden tawny owl palisman from the top of her staff and set him on the counter next to a hooting Owlbert. Her palisman, Mochuelo, gave himself a shake, fluffing his dark brown and white speckled feathers, golden-brown eyes blinking up at her.

She scratched both their heads and left the two to palisman play as she laid the empty staff against the counter.

"You're back early, already sell out all your potions in the market?" Eda cocked her head.

"Yup, not a thing left. I'll work on some more tomorrow, but forget about that, I have something to show you!" She stopped, looking around. "Is Amity here?"

"No, she hasn't come home yet, why?" Lilith cocked a brow at her and Luz grinned, digging something out of her pocket.

"This is why!" she exclaimed, pulling a small black box from her pocket.

"A box?" Eda asked. Luz rolled her eyes.

"No! Look!" She popped it open to reveal a bright gold ring inlaid with a deep, square-cut, magenta gemstone and two smaller, clear stones on either side of it.

The sisters both gasped.

"Luz is this…?" Lilith started.

"An engagement ring!?" Eda finished, looking up at Luz with wide eyes.

"Yup, I'm going to ask Amity to marry me," she declared proudly. "I mean, we've been living together for three years now and dating for six. I know there's no one else I want to be with."

"That's wonderful, Luz." Lilith stood and hugged her.

"Yeah, that's great!" Eda wrapped her up in a tight hug as soon as Lilith let go. Luz squeezed her back just as tight before finally pulling back. "Does this mean you two are finally moving out?" she asked with a grin as Luz blinked, wide-eyed.

"I mean… we can if you want us…" she started with a frown, but Eda just laughed.

"Naw, it'd be too quiet without you two. You two don't have to go anywhere unless you want to… and so long as you keep your bedroom door closed," she said seriously, making Luz chuckle.

How far they had come, from Eda being adamant that the bedroom door stay open when they were kids, to now demanding that it stay closed, lest she hear or see something she really didn't want to… again.

"Right, I'll talk to Amity about it later. I'm going to take her out to dinner tonight and pop the question." She grinned.

As if summoned by magic, the front door opened.

"I'm home!" A voice called from the living room.

Amity!

Luz shoved the box back into her pocket as her girlfriend of six years walked into the kitchen with a few bags in one hand and her staff in the other.

Her long auburn hair fell down against her back in a smooth curtain, except the longer sides she still kept pulled back, no longer in a ponytail, but in a neat braid that also fell against her neck.

Her white cloak was hanging from her neck and one shoulder to partially expose the sleeveless black shirt she wore beneath, tucked into her pants and the arm warmers that covered from her fingers to elbow in the customary dark pink of someone of the abominations track, and even after all this time, her nails were still painted black.

"Oh, Luz, you're home from the market already." She looked at her, surprised.

"Yup, sold out of everything pretty quick today, so I figured I'd come home. How was your day, mi amor?" She asked, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss.

"Busy, there's no shortage of problems that need straightening out since they finally put the new coven system in place," she sighed. "I'm exhausted…"

"You probably don't feel like going out tonight then, eh? She frowned.

"I don't think so..." She shook her head as she twisted the wooden dragon off her staff and let the long, golden lizard crawl up her shoulder to wrap his long, scaled body around her neck, beneath the curtain of auburn hair.

"Hey, Calliban." Luz smiled as Amity scratched under his chin. The dragon's long whiskers twitched happily, a puff of smoke coming from his nostrils, his long tufted tail twitched.

"Was there something you wanted to do tonight?" Amity looked down at her as she scratched the palisman.

"Uh… no. We can go out another night." Luz shook her head, she could see how tired Amity was, and it wasn't like she couldn't propose at any time.

Amity nodded and set her bags on the counter.

"If you're sure, I just want to lay down and never get back up," she mumbled.

"I'm sure that can be arranged, mi amor" Luz smiled, wrapping her arms around her waist and setting her chin on her shoulder, though only barely, the witch stood a good five inches taller than her. Amity smiled, leaning back into her.

"Just close the damn door…," Eda mumbled. Luz stuck her tongue out at her and Amity rolled her eyes.

Luz pulled her close, letting the taller woman relax against her for a few moments before she pulled free with a sigh.

"I need to go shower," she mumbled and carefully set Calliban on Luz's shoulders before kissing her cheek and walking out of the kitchen.

Luz hummed, petting his smooth scaly body, his tiny claws pricked at her skin as he settled himself around her neck. His horns poking her under the chin.

"Guess it's not gonna happen tonight?" Eda looked at her.

"No, but it's okay, there's no rush," Luz said and dug the box out of her pocket.

"Will you hang onto this for me? I'd hate for her to find it in our room and ruin the surprise," she asked, holding the box out to Lilith.

"Of course, Luz." She nodded, taking the ring and slipping it into the pocket of her dress.

"Hey, why not me?" Eda sat up, frowning.

"You lost King just yesterday…" Luz frowned.

"He found his way home eventually," she mumbled.

"I think I'd feel better if Lily held onto it. That's three weeks of potions sales I'd really rather not have to replace…"

Eda crossed her arms, pouting while Lilith gave her a smug look.

"I guess I'll just get started on brewing some stuff before dinner." She pulled off her cloak and laid it over a chair as she walked over to the counter, crowded with her and Eda's brewing stuff.

"So, you've been trying to propose for a week now?" Willow asked as she sat across from Luz in the Redstone bakery sipping on her tea.

Luz sighed, nodding.

"I just want it to be perfect but we've both been so busy, if I'm not out helping with the reconstruction or selling potions in the market, Amity is attending council meetings and helping sort out the kinks in the new coven system. We're exhausted half the time…I'm not even sure when the last time we had s-.."

"Stop! You're both very busy. I know what you mean..."

"TMI, sorry," Luz chuckled sheepishly.

But Willow just nodded.

"There's still a lot to do and a vacuum to fill since we did away with Belos, but you know, maybe you're trying too hard for the perfect moment?"

"Hmm?" Luz hummed, blinking at her oldest friend.

"We both know Amity doesn't really want the big over the top gestures, so long as you're you, she'd never said no."

"I know… I just wanted to make it special, ya know?

"I'm sure it will be, you'll find that 'Luz' way of doing it." She smiled and Luz snorted, the fact that her name had become some kind of verb her friends liked to use amused her.

"Yeah, I'll think of something… ya ready to head into town?" she asked. Willow nodded and they stood, leaving some snails on the table as they left.

They spent the rest of the day checking on things in Bonesburough.

It had been a year since Belos had been defeated and the old coven system and regime had been dismantled, and things were still being reconstructed in town where some of the heaviest fighting had taken place between the rebels and the loyalists.

Luz hummed as she walked along the streets with Willow, in some ways the town had changed a lot in the last year, but in others had remained just the same

Without the coven system that bonded people to only one type of magic, the covens looked totally different. They still existed, only now rather than only being able to perform one type of magic, people could do it all no matter what coven they were in, but many still choose to join the covens so they could work with other like-minded witches in the types of magic they specialized in. They were more brotherhood's than forced chains pulled by the Emperor, some people often belonging to more than one coven at a time. Luz herself, for her part in the rebellion, was welcome in all nine of the major coven houses, though she didn't actively participate in any of their politics or meetings.

She usually visited to get advice about certain spells from the more experienced witches of the discipline's. They were always glad to see her in their midsts.

The downside to it no longer being against the law to not join a coven was that crime had gone up some, with the less unsavory members of society now having access to all types of magic. The night market was still quite robust, especially during the rebellion when a host of unsavory things have been going on. Luz tried not to think about those days too much.

The new governing system, a council of the new nine coven leaders, was still getting to its feet in controlling stuff, so a lot of things flew under the radar as they dealt with the bigger, more pressing issues, like any remaining pockets of loyalists. It was a work in progress, one Luz was happy to help with when she could. She'd actually gotten pretty good at playing bounty hunter, though Amity didn't like it at all. She didn't go out of her way hunting down criminal witches, they just showed up a lot in the market when she happened to be there, and Luz had never been one to stand idly by.

Things seemed pretty quiet today.

As they walked past the library Luz took notice of a poster pasted to its wall and suddenly she had a brilliant idea.

"Hey, I think I know what I wanna do." She turned to Willow with a bright grin. “I’m gonna need your help.”

"Sure, that was quick…," she laughed and Luz shrugged.

"I just remembered something. I think Amity would appreciate it…" She smiled and Willow nodded. "You think Gus would be my best man?" she asked.

"He'd beg you… not that I won't pretend I'm not a little insulted that you don't want to ask me." She pouted, crossing her arms and making Luz laugh.

"Like Amity would want anyone but you to be her maid of honor." Luz grinned, making the plant witch smile. "Though you might have to fight Em for it," she warned.

"She can bring it on." Willow grinned, making Luz laugh.

"Hey, tonight's the night," Luz announced to the living room as she walked down the stairs.

"You're proposing tonight?" Eda looked up at her daughter's grinning face.

"Yup, I know exactly what I want to do and it has to be tonight. I gotta get some stuff ready, you've got the ring right?" she asked Lilith, who nodded.

"Of course."

"Great, I'm going to come back and get it from you in a little bit!" Luz said as she hurried out the front door, staff in one hand, and a dark green book in the other.

The door slammed and Eda shook her head, grinning.

"I can't believe she's really going to do it…," she chuckled. When there was no response she turned to her sister who was sitting on the other side of the couch, frowning, her fingers tapping nervously on her knees.

"What?" Eda cocked a brow at her.

"I...may have... misplaced Amity's ring…," she mumbled, biting her lip. There was a long moment of silence.

"Ha! Now, who's irresponsible?!" Eda laughed, jumping up with a grin.

"Are you serious right now?!" Lilith jumped up, scowling as Eda did that stupid 'moonwalk' dance Luz had taught them.

"I'm not the one who lost the kid’s engagement ring…," Eda sang smugly, dancing across the living room.

Lilith groaned.

"Yes, fine, I lost it, now help me find it before Luz comes back!" She stomped.

"And why would I do that?" Eda crossed her arms.

"Because she's your daughter, and she's going to be devastated that she can't propose because the ring was lost!" Lilith growled, and Eda frowned. Her sister had a point, as much as she liked getting one over on her older sister she wasn't going to do it at her kid's expense. She also knew what Luz sold her potions for, three weeks profit on one ring was nothing to sneeze at

"Alright, alright, where did you have it last?"

"It was sitting on my dresser last night, but when I woke up, it was gone." Lilith sighed, rubbing her temple.

"Well it can't have gotten too far then, let's check your room." The two hurried up the stairs.

They tear Lilith's room apart for over an hour searching for the ring and only find the box, sitting underneath the edge of her bed.

"It's not here!" Eda growls. Lilith sits on her bed, head in her hands.

"Luz and Amity are never going to speak to me again…," she moans.

"Yea… not sure even Luz can forgive this one…," Eda mumbled and Lilith groaned louder.

"What's up witches?"

They look up at King, standing in the doorway.

"Lily lost Luz's engagement ring…," Eda sighed, hand on her hip.

"How irresponsible. She should have given it to me." He laid a clawed hand on his chest and there was a glint, drawing both sisters' eyes.

There, hanging on the tip of one of his claws was the ring.

Lilith and Eda tackled the small demon, who squealed as they jumped him, trying to wriggle out of their grasp.

"You took this from my room!" Lilith scowled, holding up the ring out of King's reach as he jumped up, trying to grab it.

"Oh, is that Luz's ring? I thought it was an offering." He crossed his arms.

Eda rolled her eyes and Lilith growled.

"Do you know how mad Luz will be if we tell her you stole her ring?" Eda looked down at him with a frown.

King hunched down at that, eyes turning fearful.

Then they heard the front door open downstairs.

"Guys?"

"Up here, kid," Eda called as Lilith quickly slipped the ring back into its box and closed it.

Luz poked her head in the room.

"Oh, what's everyone doing in here?"

They all glanced at each other.

"Nothing!"

"Uhuh… I don't believe that but I don't have time to question it. The ring?" she asked.

“Right here!” Lilith handed over the box.

"Great, thanks. Wish me luck!" She smiled before taking off back down the stairs. They all waited until they heard the door open and shut before sighing in relief.

~ ~

It was dark when Amity hopped off her staff outside the library. The tall building stood empty and dark, it was well after closing time after all.

She wasn't sure why Luz wanted her to meet her here, but she'd gotten pretty used to just rolling with her girlfriend's eccentric ways for the most part over the years. It was easier to not question it. She spun a finger and her staff vanished.

She walked up the steps heels clicking quietly on the stone as she looked around. The building had remained unchanged over the years, it had luckily been one of the few large buildings to be spared during the fighting, for which she was glad. She had many fond memories of the library, it was, for a long time, her only place of safety and solitude from her sometimes, over the top siblings, but more importantly, from her always overbearing and controlling mother, and then had been her and Luz’s secret place for the first some odd months of their relationship, until they had been allowed to be public about it.

The secret room in the romance section had all but been abandoned after her eighteenth birthday when she moved out of Blight Manor and into the owl house with Luz.

She stood at the top near the door, looking around. Now, where was her adorable doofus?

She felt the tingle of familiar magic pull at the back of her mind and turned in time to see Luz become visible, leaning against one of the library pillars as the glow of her palisman’s eyes faded, but her bright grin did not as she slipped the staff into the holster beneath her cloak.

“Buenas noches, mi amor. ¿Cómo estás esta noche?” She took a step forward to stand in front of her and Amity grinned back.

“Mejor, ahora que estás aquí, querida," She mumbled, taking hold of the collar of Luz’s cloak and pulling her in for a kiss, making Luz grin. “Now, are you going to tell me why we’re here?” she asked, stepping back.

“I just felt like a walk down memory lane,” she shrugged, smiling. “Also considering what tonight is...”

“Tonight?” Amity blinked. Luz jerked her thumb at a poster on the wall and Amity’s eyes widened.

“The wailing star…” How long had it been since she’d thought about that? At least six years, since the time the twins had tried to take her diary as a kid.

“Come on, it’s about to start!” Luz walked over to the door, she flipped open one of her pouches and leafed through the many different papers before pulling out the one she wanted and pressed it to the library door. It dissolved in a flash of pale blue and the door made a quiet click and she pushed it open.

Amity smiled and followed her. When you considered all the trouble Luz could and had gotten into over the years, walking around the library at night wasn’t even worth the breath to protest, not that she really wanted to.

She closed the door behind her and as they walked into the main entry room of the library just as the large stained glass window above them lit up with the light of the passing star, the green glow settled over the books and Luz quickly grabbed a book off the shelf and opened it. Snakes slithered out, making her grin.

“I didn’t really get to enjoy this last time we were here during the wailing star... being too busy trying not to get killed by my favorite childhood book character and all," she chuckled and Luz grinned.

“Same,” she laughed as they moved up and down the aisles, picking up books. Luz saw a familiar book and grinned, pulling it off the shelf and whipping around to Amity.

“Hey, babe!”

Amity looked up just in time to be blasted in the face with a deluge of snowballs.

“You are so dead!” She yelled at her girlfriend’s back as she took off down the aisles, half screaming, half laughing as Amity gave chase, snatching her own copy of ‘A History of Snowballs’ off the shelf.

They chased each other around the bookshelves for a while before finally calling a truce.

Luz giggled as she closed the book and the remnants of snow vanished from Amity’s hair.

“Come on, I know somewhere we haven’t been in a while…” she slid her book back on the shelf.

“I have a pretty good idea of where we’re going.” Amity smiled, walking beside her to the romance section of the library.

“Maybe…” She smiled.

Amity chuckled as they stopped in the romance section and she reached up to pull at a familiar book.

The bookcase slid aside to reveal what once had been such an important place to her, then to them, and now stood dusty and empty, with cobwebs hanging off the candlesticks and rafters. She’d long moved all her books and more important things out of the room and into her and Luz’s room at the owl house.

“It’s dusty…," Amity hummed, running her fingers over the empty shelves inside.

“A bit…, I don't think we've really been here in three years,” Luz agreed.

Amity glanced around before she saw a book sitting in the middle of her old desk, it wasn't dull or covered in dust like everything else in the room.

She walked forward and picked it up, Luz watching her with a knowing smile.

It’s dark green, leather-bound cover was soft in her hands. She blinked down at the title, written in her girlfriend’s familiar looping writing.

‘The Tale of Luz & Amity’

She looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend who was watching her with a grin.

“What is this?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” she retorted, still smiling. Amity cocked a brow but turned her attention back to the book and flipped open its cover.

The first page had a memory picture pasted to its pages, one she immediately recognized as the magic of the wailing star worked on it and a small, fourteen-year-old version of her and her girlfriend materialized on the pages.

Them in the cafeteria at Hexside, Amity on her knees on the table, and her hands wrapped around Luz’s collar.

“I know you’re in there! Who are you, what are you? I want answers!”

“Blughhh...

Amity chuckled to herself, watching a younger her shake an abomination goo covered Luz like a ragdoll.

She smiled over her shoulder at Luz, who was looking at her with both brows raised encouragingly.

The next page was their meeting at the covention.

'Oh, it's you, Willow's abomination… thing.'

'Heyyyy Amity…. so, funny story, Not, an abomination, sorry for the confusion last week. I'm Luz, the human, hi.'

'Ugh, put that away.'

Amity shook her head at her younger self. If only she knew then what she knew now.

She flipped the page and this time the little figures of the two of them were partially sewed into a book, running from Odabin in this very library..

‘Now what?’

‘I don’t know! I didn’t even think that would work, I was all like ‘arghh!’

She still smirked at the sheer dumbness of that plan.

The next page held another familiar scene.

'Azura book club? Azura book club!?' an excited Luz bounced.

'As long as it's a secret club, okay?' Amity whispered, cheeks pinking.

She turned the page and watched as the next memory photo popped up, the two of them in Willow’s memories, just after sliding the flaming inner Willow into the lake.

‘Whoo, teamwork, baby!’ The younger Luz wrapped her arms around younger Amity and squeezed her.

She smiled to herself as she turned the page to watch the next scene play out in its entirety.

‘Well, if that’s settled, may I have this dance?’ she held out her hand, and Luz’s filled it.

She grinned at the next one, Luz scooping up her and her broken foot after playing grudgby against Boscha.

Then, pasted to the next page was one of the letters Luz had written to her as her secret admirer. She smiled down at it, though in the back of her mind she wondered how Luz had found it, she kept them all in a special box in their closet.

A younger and bashful looking Luz rose up from the paper with a handful of Blood-Blossoms.

‘These flowers could never be as beautiful as you, but I hope you like them anyway...”

There were also a couple of memories from the Masquerade, their dancing, and after the party had ended in her bedroom. Luz stood behind her, quietly, watching, waiting.

She flipped through its many pages, trying not to get too teary-eyed at some, like the night under the grom tree on their one month anniversary, their first fall shower, or her fifteenth birthday. Of course, Luz also included their fight with the illusion track upperclassmen, their first fight, her first numberry tripout when they were camping and that first, awkward dinner with her parents, as well as another first time she quickly flipped past, cheeks red and Luz, snickered behind her as she rolled her eyes.

Of course, she would add that...

She grinned, eyes glazed over with unshed tears at their second grom, graduation when she'd moved into the owl house, and a host of all the other things in between them were brought to life by the wailing stars' magic.

She turned the page about halfway through the book to find the last page with nothing on it.

This one did not contain a memory photo, instead, stuck inside it was a sticky note with a simple single line of text, the magic of the wailing star made the small magic copy of her girlfriend appear on the page, looking up at her.

‘Will you help make the next one by saying yes?’

Amity blinked.

“What? Say yes to wh-” she turned and dropped the book, hands shooting up to cover her mouth as she looked down at Luz on one knee, holding up a small box with a sparkling ring sitting in it.

Luz’s heart was beating in her chest so hard she thought for sure it was about to break some of her ribs. Her mouth was dry, but she somehow managed to speak.

“Amity Blight, will you continue our story with me and marry me?” she asked.

What was in reality only a few seconds felt like an eternity as Luz watched the tears well up in her eyes and drip down her cheeks, her mouth working soundlessly.

“Yes!” she finally managed to shout when she could speak again.

Luz broke out into a bright smile and jumped up, pulling the ring out of the box and taking hold of her girlfriend's shaking left hand, and slipping the ring on her finger.

As soon as it was in place Amity practically flung herself on her, kissing her, even as tears slid down her cheeks.

Luz couldn't stop grinning even as her own eyes welled with tears, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around while Amity squeezed her neck.

She finally set her down but Amity didn't let go.

"I love you," She choked, face buried in her neck.

"Yo también te amo, Amity" she mumbled, squeezing her.

After several long minutes, she finally pulled back and Luz grinned at her, wiping the tears from her pale cheeks before she reached down to pick up the book and handing it to Amity.

"Try not to set these on fire…" Luz grinned and Amity gave her a gentle shove.

"Never," she promised as she really looked at the ring now sitting on her finger and tears threatened to fall again.

"It's beautiful, Luz…" she sniffled, and looked up at her, smiling, and Luz smiled back at her.

It was late when they finally left the library and headed home on Luz's staff.

All the lights were still on in the owl house when they arrived.

Lilith and Eda were both sitting in the living room, along with Gus and Willow when they walked in.

They were looking at them, trying not to appear expectant in case Luz hadn't asked but she grinned at them and held up Amity's hand.

"She said yes!" she declares and the living room erupted with cheers and congratulations.

"I'm going to get the good apple blood!" Eda grinned, disappearing into the kitchen, Lilith following behind her to help.

"Dibs on best man!" Gus called, jumping up.

"You got it." Luz laughed.

"So, was it everything you dreamed it would be?" Willow asked, sliding up to Amity, who smiled at her before glancing at her new fiancée as she talked excitedly with Gus and held the precious leather book in her hands.

"It was perfect."

Before anyone absolutely loses their minds, no, this isn't the end, but a secondary plotline that will take place between their adventures as teenagers in the past.

#Moonlit Masquerade #Lumity #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Willow Park #Gus Porter #Eda Clawthorne #Lillith Clawthorne #gay #fic #toh #the owl house

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