#;family ties (ch)

[akkivee]

what will they be doing when they’re on opposite sides from the rest of their team i wonder??? 🤔🤔🤔

[ustalav]

any excuse to do more oc posting @motherofmabari

YES lol he’s very religiously traumatized. He does work on it and comes out of it still religious but with healthier beliefs. And definitely has some healthy debates with Dorian about everything.

Dorian is a big reason his beliefs start to change because he is so casual with magic and his interpretation of the Chant is so different from what Gideons been taught. At first Gideon finds it offensive and annoying… but he keeps going to him and picking his mind about it. And then he realizes he might be wrong about some things. Both of them are all for an academic debate, I think Gideon just like daily presents his arguments to Dorian and Dorian just debunks them or turns them on their head one by one.

I do think he’s still like… priests should be women, though lmao. Like that’s the thing he’s not budging on.

As for Judith!! She is one of the mages Anders helped escape as part of the mage underground. And has been with her own group of rebels in the free marches trying to stay alive. After a lot of time, she comes to Skyhold because it seems like a safe place to turn to, although only after a lot of back and forth in correspondence with Gideon.

And she thinks he’s absolutely crazy, I have a playthrough with her as inquisitor that is essentially his opposite playthrough.

She does care about him, hates seeing him try so hard to appeal to their parents because they’ll never be able to love him fully. Shes already processed all that a long time ago, but here he is sucking up to Templars still at 24 because maybe then their dad will notice him.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch. 16

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Ch. Notes: Slight confrontation and angst, self-blame, lots of feelings, communication

Summary: The future of the family business is discussed between Wanda, Natasha, and yourself

An: Another update sorry for the wait and I appreciate how patient you guys are with me here

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Natasha couldn't sleep. All she could do was watch as both you and Wanda slept restlessly. Her mind was turning, thinking about what she could do in this situation. The right answer was one she was struggling to produce.

On one side of things running the family business was what Wanda was trained to do. It was all her wife wanted, her life's work, her life's purpose. If Wanda wasn’t tied to the business what this mean for her wife.

On another side, this business was unkind to her. It was rough and cruel. In the spam of a couple months Wanda nearly lost her father, her girlfriend was beaten up, and her wife was shot. It’s understandable why she’d want to walk away from this.

Natasha was unsure what you wanted. After the encounter with Kingpin it was clear to Natasha that you were an integral part of the family business. There was a lot more responsibility on your shoulder than she originally thought. If you wanted out of the business, would it survive.

Dragos was a great leader but he was getting old. This whole ordeal was proof of that. It was clear that Wanda’s homecoming would act as some sort of test, as he could potentially be ready to step down for a new successor.

The variables seem never ending to assess. Natasha truly cared about the happiness of you and Wanda, but the idea of either of you being put in situations like this, made her nervous. The toll it was taking seemed greater than the satisfaction that it brought.

Natasha is gently taken out of her thoughts when she feels you snuggle deeper into her. She’s careful as she readjusts her good arm around you. Wanda’s hand on the other side of you interlocks with Natasha’s. She shifts her focus to her sleeping wife. Her thumb caresses the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Sleep, Natty” you mumble into her collarbone.

“I’m trying lisichka, there’s just a lot on my mind,” Natasha speaks honestly.

“Get in the middle,” you move with your eyes closed over Natasha.

The spy goes to protest, but Wanda is already scooting closer to her. She clings to her wife like a koala. You also curl into the woman resting one of your hands on her bare stomach.

“You’re safe moya lyubov, relax,” Wanda kisses Natasha’s shoulder tenderly.

Natasha takes a deep breath and closes her eyes in an attempt to go to sleep. It comes easier when she's enclosed by both you and Wanda.

The next morning almost feels plainly normal. When you wake up you’re the only one in bed. You swing your legs over the side and sit with your head in your hands.

You can see flashes of the night before and it eats at you. You had killed before, but this felt different. Though you were clean it still felt like you had his blood and brain matter all over you. You could hear him laughing as he dared you to shoot him. The way your brother’s name sounded in Fisk’s mouth.

It's worse when you start to remember how weak you acted after. Wanda being there to baby you as always when you became a childish mess. Your hands tightly grasp at your hair as you berate yourself for your actions. You acted irrationally and then panicked in a way you shouldn’t have.

You feel a pair of hands on yours, carefully loosening your grip on your hair.

“Y/n, look at me baby.”

You lift your head to meet Natasha’s gaze. The worry in her eyes makes you try to get a grip on reality. With a shake of your head and a large inhale, you regain your composure.

You attempt to stand and Natasha tries to stop you.

“I’m fine Natasha.”

“You do know I was a spy right? Lying to me is not going to go over well for you,” she deadpans.

You attempt to deflect, “Where’s Wanda?”

“In the kitchen. Now are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“Nothing that I can't handle on my own,” you assert.

Natasha’s eyes lock on to yours in a way that makes you want to melt, “ You don’t have to handle it on your own. You can be vulnerable with us, with me.”

“Being vulnerable is what landed me here in the first place. If I wasn’t so fragile maybe they would've told me about my mom. If I would've been more rational then I wouldn't have shot Fisk in the head. All I did last night was run away, vomit, and cry like a fucking child.”

“Last night, you saved the family business. You saved me, Wanda, Pietro, Dragos, and potentially everything they care about,” Natasha tries to persuade you.

“I could’ve done better. I should’ve stood taller, held my ground, kept my temper in check. Even now, I sound like a whiny kid, who can’t move on from the past. For nearly a decade I’ve been trying to become stronger, but every time I’m put in a tough situation, it’s like I’m that kid again. I’m just waiting for someone from this family to throw a glass bottle at my head and tell me I’m worthless because I know that it’s true.”

For once it seems as though Natasha doesn’t have the words. You wont look at her as silence blankets the room. In your mind there was nothing about this that wasn’t your fault. You deserved to be punished for your lack of competence, there had to be someone who was mad at you.

Wanda had overheard the conversation as your voice became louder. She waits a beat to see if Natasha had anything to say before entering the room herself.

Your back was to her and she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around your midsection. Her chin rests on your shoulder.

“Y/n, I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it, but you are not worthless. It’s ok to feel overwhelmed by what happened yesterday, it hasn’t even been 24 hours. It’s ok to lean us for help, we won’t push you away and we won’t be upset. Emotions are not childish, my love.”

Your hands find themselves around her forearms, “ I wish I could’ve kept it together.”

“It would’ve just prolonged the inevitable. There was no way that Fisk could’ve lived after all he put us through. He can’t hurt this family anymore."

“Not just with him, I- I want to hear from Dragos and Pietro about my mother. If I wouldn’t have sprinted out of the building-”

“They are at home, they aren’t going anywhere. Whenever you want to have that talk we can, but I think it would be best to give it a couple of days” Wanda reassures you.

“ Is he upset with me?”

Wanda shakes her head, “Of course not, Y/n. You saved his life, his family, his business. He’s worried about you, he wants to see you.”

Your attention shifts to Natasha, who has been quiet since Wanda entered the room. You can see her in her own mind.

“Nat?”

Natasha doesn't answer when you speak causing her wife to call her name as well. When they lock eyes Wanda can tell something is weighing on the woman.

“I don't want him to see you, Y/n.”

Wanda furrows her brow, “Why not?”

Natasha speaks softly and avoids eye contact with her wife, “We don't know what he wants.”

“He wants to make sure she's ok. She's like a daughter to him,” Wanda becomes slightly defensive of her father.

You use your hands to keep Wanda near you. You think whatever is happening in this conversation requires space between the wives.

“I know that, but what if he wants something else Wanda?” Natasha rushes out.

“What else could he want?” Wanda tone is incredulous at this point.

“I don’t know Wanda, maybe he wants to thank the one person who has been holding his business together since his accident. Maybe now that she’s saved not only his business, but his family and his life, he wants to reward her. Maybe this whole thing has made him realize he’s too old for this and he wants to pass on all of this to her,” Natasha shoots back.

“That’s ridiculous- he’s not retiring,” Wanda tries to dismiss Natasha.

“Think about it Wanda, why else call you home now? Your father is looking for a successor and there was only one person who was successful at running the business in his absence,” Natasha argues back.

“He left me in charge, Natasha.”

“And how long did that last? You did your best, but it was too much for you. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you leaned on Y/n and she picked up the slack effortlessly. This was natural for her, she’s good at this.”

The tension in the room was rising with each exchange. You want to de-escalate the situation, but you don’t know if it’s ok for you to get involved.

“ If he offered it to me, I would tell him no,” you spoke up, “I love this business, but I can’t run it. I’m not even a Maximoff.”

Wanda turns you so that you’re facing her, “ Do you want to run the family business?”

“ I-I’ve never thought about it before,” you answer her honestly.

“ I thought we all agreed to some time away from this business, now you’re talking about being the head of the table,” Natasha is in disbelief.

“This is all hypothetical. This business is the only thing that I feel like I’m good at and for the longest I felt like I would do this forever. But things are different now,” you look between the two women.

The tension seems to leave the air when you look at them.

“What's different, little krolik?”

You shove her shoulder lightly, “My priorities feel different. There are other things I care about, and look forward to besides being useful for the business.”

“What kind of things lisichka?” Natasha teases.

You roll your eyes, “Things like sleeping in and waking up next to my girlfriends in bed. Having enough days off to travel somewhere, see something with them. Domestic things like cooking dinner together, or watching movies. Knowing that we're all safe and don’t have any reason to be looking over our shoulders would be nice too.”

“I like the way that sounds,” Natasha says.

“Me too,” Wanda agrees.

You stop them there, “But… Wanda I know you've wanted this your whole life. You didn't ask this year's away preparing for this, and if this is still your dream then I want to be there to support it. If you’re involved, I want to be there.”

Natasha looks to her wife, and can see a multitude of emotions pass through Wanda’s face.

“I want this more than anything,” Wanda places a kiss on your forehead.

Your hand rests on her face bringing her eyes to yours, “Wanda, you don't have to choose between this and that.”

“I know, I know, but Y/n I’m always going to choose us. You, Nat, this, it's more important to me than the family business. I don't want to be the reason we're in danger,” her forehead rests on yours.

“So what does this mean for us?” Natasha asks for clarification.

“I don’t think we’ll know what it means before we talk to my dad. I want to say if he asks me I’ll say no immediately, but it’s easier said than done,” Wanda frowns.

“It means whatever we’re going to do, we’ll do it together,” you say looking at both of them.

Natasha still has worry in her eyes, but a kiss from you eases her nerves. Wanda follows your lead wrapping you all into one large hug. With kisses to the top your heads, she reassures you all.

“We’re going to be ok”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989 @falloutboy-lover

[hockeybabe]

Family Skate | M.Knies

Not my gif

Parings: Matthew Knies x gf!reader

Summary: you and mattthew are new to the dating scene and he makes it official to the public by inviting you to the family skate.

Warnings: pure fluff, swearing, insecurities, kissing, slight cocky Knies, ngl rushed af

Word count: 756

Note: this has been in my drafts for a while. Also requests are open, send them in! And I saw Olivia Rodrigo!!!!

The moment you met Matthew, you two instantly clicked. You had lived in Toronto your entire life working for the leafs. To the team you were like their little sister and the John well you were like his kid. When the leafs called up Matthew you had lost your apartment and John was there to help you.

So gradually you lived with the Tavares residence, along with Matthew becoming professional babysitters for John and Aryne. But what the outside world didn’t know was that you and Matthew were a little more involved with each other than just friends. 

You were a couple. One that you kept away from the world because of people not always being accepting. It was your idea. You had seen it happen to so many and while they could handle it; you weren’t sure you could. However, after multiple talks with Aryne and other girlfriends, they finally convinced you to be shown off.

And what better to have it done at the family skate.

“Babe, you ready.” Matt called for you pulling on his jersey. “Yeah.” You said fixing you scarf and pulling your hair out. “How do I look.” You turned around showing him your outfit which consisted of a handmade leafs jacket with his name on it and black leggings. 

Matthew stared down at you with a cheeky smile gabbing you hands at your sides and leant down giving you a kiss. “You look perfect.” He mumbled. “We should probably get going.” He said heading for the door. As he walked away you slowly feel your nerves creeping up. Matthew notices you lack of presence.

“Y/n,” he calls out. “Everything alright?” He asks once you come to the door. “What if they don’t like me?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs. “Who’s not gonna like you?” He asks clueless making you groan. “The fans, you dummy.” You placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him. “What are they gonna do? You’re mine and I’m yours. They’re just gonna have to accept that.” He says, putting loose hair behind your ear.

“But-” “If they judge, they judge don’t let them tear you apart. I love you.” He says, opening the door. “I love you too.” You mumble. “What was that?” You groan, “I love you too.” You said louder. “That’s my girl.” He said, watching you exit the house and getting into the car.

Once you guys got to the rink, you trailed behind Matthew as he waved to the fans what you didn’t expect were the amount of fans calling your name. You had no clue how they knew who you were, but they were cheering for you.

“Looks like you don’t need to impress anyone.” Matthew turned around, looking down at you with a smirk. You gave him a smile, tightening your grip on his hand as you gave shy waves to the fans. When you finally got to the rink, you sat beside Steph. “Looks like they love you.” She commented.

“Could be a facade.” You shrug. “Fans are brutally honest about liking people. I guess they realized that because you've been dating for a while, then there’s nothing they can do.” She said as she watched Mitch and Matthew grab their girl's skates.

“Hi baby,” Matt said, kneeling down and tying your skates as you told him when it was tight enough. “You know you’re going to be dragging me everywhere, right?” You laugh. Matthew chuckled, “I got you.” Once your laces were fully tied, you took his hands and walked to the rink.

Matthew set foot into the ice first and took your hands, holding you tightly as you slightly wobbled in his grasp. “You doing great.” He cheered as he strides across the ice, pulling you with him. When the two of you passed close by the fans, they’d gush about how cute you two looked.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look with rosy cheeks?” He smirked, making you blush. “I would slap your chest, but I’d probably fall.” You grunt. “And now you’re saying you’ll fall for me. How great.” He gave you a goofy smile, making you groan.

“Thank you.” You said to him. “For what?” He asked, confused. “For letting me see past the negatives. I love you.” You said quietly. “What was that?” He said, leaning down. “I love you.” “I love you too.” He responded by leaning down giving you a kiss as the other players' sticks clacked with the ice as they cheered with their partners. 

[midnightorchids]

More soft Jason ideas since you deserve it and your wonderful and supper cool Girldad!Jason BRRROOOOOOO Oh my goddddddd ok like- - Jason is the kind of dad who always has music playing in the house, he mindlessly sways and hums along as he makes morning (or night-time) pancakes for you and his little girl. She'll come running up to him, her thick black hair tangled over her face, and pull on his pant leg. He'll sweep her up into his arms, her small head fitting perfectly against his chest as she watches him make breakfast, still somewhat asleep and aloof. He'll start bopping along to the music with her little hands around his neck, filling up the kitchen with shrieks of laughter and he peppers her soft cheeks with kisses. - I feel like you and him would like in a beach house, somewhere away from the city and his old job as Red Hood. Your daughter would bring home buckets of pretty rocks and sea glass that Jason keeps in jars along the living room windowsills. He has to dump some back onto the shore every time he sees her washing the new rocks and shells on the front porch. - After long summer days of playing and wrestling in the waves, you would all curl up for a post-beach nap. Smelling like salt with the prick of the sun settling into your tired bones. Your daughter would fit perfectly between you two. Jasons hand behind his head with his other wrapped firmly around you and his little girl. - Get's his daughter obsessed with reading just as much as he is. Would build her book-shelf after book-self as her collection of story-books and middle grade fairy books expands. - Helps his daughter roast marsh mellows during the beach bonfires you guys have when Roy and his daughter visit. Your daughter and Lian are best friends- playdates once a week kind of thing. - When she's little, he'll always have his daughter on his knee during big family dinners. He let's her eat anything off of his plate, keeping his arm around her as he talks with Dick. - Overall, just- every-time he falls asleep next to you he feels like crying into your shoulder, unable to thank you enough for bringing such a precious perfect bundle of laughter into his life. Huge 'my wife showed me how to love and my daughter showed me how to forgive energy lmao.

I want night time pancakes with Jason and my little baby girl wtf!!! Also, thank you so much for sending this in. I love it and I literally fail to understand how you pull up with the most amazing scenarios every time, I’m actually in love with your writing!! You’re amazing!

Anyways lol!! I’m gonna be honest, I don’t want to have biological children but for Jason… I’d do it, no hesitation. He’d be the most amazing girl dad, I love him so so so much.

I’m not sure if people have already said this before but can you imagine him learning how to do your daughter’s hair!! He has a YouTube hair tutorial playing on the TV as your daughter sits in between his legs. He’s got bobby pins in between his teeth and hair ties around his wrist. He’s using a small comb to gently brush through her little curls.

He’s learning how to braid her hair and he’s having some difficulty, but he’s a persistent man, and like he always tells his little girl, practice makes perfect! He will sit there for days, hours upon hours, trying to make the most flawless set of Dutch braids. Once he’s succeeded at his craft, he’ll admire his work and will tell his daughter to go show you his skills. And oh my goodness, how adorable does she look showing off her father’s braiding skills!!

I also saw a quote on Instagram earlier today and it said that “tenderness is in the hands” and I immediately thought of Jason. There is no one with gentler hands than Jason. His fingers may be rough and his knuckles might be permanently bruised from his past, but when he interlocks his hands with his baby girl, they are the most delicate and warmest hands she has ever felt.

He will run his fingers through her hair, as she lays her tiny head against his chest and he’ll read her favourite stories. She’ll take his hands out of her hair and just play with his fingers. Trace little shapes on his palm, measure her small hand against his big, calloused ones. It’ll melt Jason’s heart and he’ll feel like crying. There will be days where he needs to stop reading and take a minute to appreciate the tenderness of the moment, without completely crumbling.

Also, I kind of hate to say it, but it’s so true. Jason would totally try to heal his daddy issues by being the best possible parent.

He’d treat his daughter like an actual princess and not just in terms of materialistic things. He’d be there for her in every circumstance; he’d be the best moral support and the best cheerleader anyone could ask for.

If your daughter plays any sports or plays an instrument, any thing really, he’d always be there to encourage her and comfort her when it started to become tough. He’d attended every game, every practice, every performance. Like I said, the best cheerleader.

Basically long story short, I’d die for soft, girl dad Jason.

[fuzzybirdie]

Hero of Changing Faces

Warning, 'tis a bit sweary. Enjoy!

Ch.2 The MOTHERFUCKER Of All Time

The GODDAMN Joker was attacking the GODDAMN ammusement park in the middle of the GODDAMN school holidays! So Duke was a teensy bit pissed.

Today was supposed to be fun! Everyone, including Tim and Alfred, had made sure to clean up their scheduals enough for a family outing, and they managed to pull steph along as well!

Everything was going well so far too! Sure, Damian couldn't stop scoffing at this couple yelling 'Ghost!' All the time, and Tim and Jason were trying to one-up eachother at all the carnival games, (before being absoloutley demolished by cass), but it was fun! They Were having fun.

And then the motherfucker of all time hijacked the roller coaster.

Alfred had managed to sneak everyone's costumes into their day packs, probably foreseeing something going wrong. Either way, this meant that everyone could sneak away and change to fight the Joker.

After getting changed, Signal charged towards the announcer's booth, running into Nightwing on the way. Nightwing who looked pale and terrified. "B went ahead to the roller coaster!" Nightwing called. Ah, Signal's question must've been obvious.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Signal called back,

"Not as a civillian! He went in before it got hijacked!"

"Fuck!"

"Red, Orphan, and I are en route to the rollercoaster" Red Hood interupted "Robin's on his way to the announcer booth, and Spoiler is on evac duty,"

"Roger," Nightwing grappeled past a group escaping one of the rides, "Signal and I will randevous with robin. B is among the civillians on the roller coaster."

"Understood. We'll be in touch once the civvies are safe. Over and Out."

The announcer booth was surrounded by goons, who were taken care of easily enough. (Thank you, pepper spray bottles of sleeping gas!) Leaving the door wide open. Nightwing and Signal crept in, the only hint of their (re: Signal's) presence was the lights dimming and the shadows growing.

The Joker had set himself in the middle of the moniter room. He'd somehow found the time to inflate an air matress and was now lying down, eating popcorn, and kicking his legs like a schoolchild.

"Oh boo!" The Joker cried as the rollercoaster judded to a stop "they didn't even get halfway up! This show sucks!"

Robin took this moment to reveal himself both to his brothers and the Joker by attempting to skewer the latter through the arm. "Oh hi, little Robin!" Joker cackled as Robin missed "Come to watch the show? Though," he looked at where Robin's sword had punctured his matress "That was really rude. Guess I can kill you now!"

As Joker pulled out a gun to shoot at Robin, Signal manipulated the light of the moniters to blind him. Nightwing's escrima crackled into his exposed back, and he was down.

Something clattered out of the Joker's hands along with the gun. Signal had a closer look at it while Nightwing cuffed Joker and Robin shut down all the rides.

"Joker had a deadman trigger!" He practically shrieked into the comms "Get everyone out of there now!" Looking closer at the moniters, it was easy to see the bombs at the bottom of every other support. Thankfully, with Robin having turned off the rides, the safety bar had let go, and the other bats had gotten all the civillians off the ride. Unfortunately, they were still in the blast zone.

Red Robin turned to say something to the civillians. Then this white haired kid practically threw Red Hood into Orphan, who was checking someone for injuries. With everyone behind him, the kid threw out his hands, as a sheet of ice grew from them. The ice seemed to thin to stop anything, but it covered everyone quickly. Once a dome had formed the ice began to thicken.

Then the bombs detonated.

~~~~~~

first / prev / next

It was under the word limit!

So, how many of you got the cameo last chapter? :)

As always, this was inspired by @freedomanddisorder's art and the following prompt chain. Please check out both, they are So cool,

[cherriecove]

Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader (Part 2)

Summary: As Rhaeynera Targaryen’s only daughter you always knew that your hand would be given to whomever aided your mother and her cause. It was something that you accepted but naturally you always dreaded the day your mother would send you to your future husband, fearing whoever it would be to be cruel and old. Fortunately your worries were unfounded as your twin brother Jacaerys suggests a potential union with the Lord of the North. Cherrie's note: Use of she/her. I have been dealing with a little bit of writers block so hopefully you like this! Also i love a good Cregan and Jace bromance.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

As Jace’s toast echoed through the hall, the atmosphere warmed with renewed camaraderie. Cregan’s eyes met yours, and you could see the genuine warmth in his gaze. The rest of the hall joined in the toast, raising their cups and filling the air with a sense of celebration. For a moment, the weight of your mother’s crown felt distant, replaced by the hopeful promise of new alliances and unity. The evening progressed with a welcome ease, a relief from the tension of the past few days. You found yourself drawn into lively conversation and laughter between Jace and Cregan. The developing bonds of friendship were evident, and Cregan’s ease with your brother spoke to his genuine character.

At one point, you retreated to a quiet corner of the hall, sipping your wine and observing the festivities. Cregan approached you with a warm, friendly expression. “Princess, may I have a word?”

You nodded, a flutter of curiosity and nerves in your chest. “Of course, my lord.”

He led you to a more secluded spot near the roaring hearth. “I hope you know that my request comes from a place of respect and necessity, not merely ambition. The North is a harsh land, and alliances like this could greatly benefit us both in these trying times.”

You met his gaze, feeling the sincerity in his words. “I understand, Lord Stark. I appreciate the honesty of your offer. I believe it will be beneficial for both our houses and the stability of the realm.”

Cregan smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. “I am glad to hear that. The North values its traditions and oaths deeply, and I trust that this union will strengthen the ties between our houses.”

Before you could respond further, Jace approached with a playful grin. “I see you two have already begun plotting the future of the North.”

Cregan chuckled and gave Jace a gentle nudge. “We were merely discussing the weight of our responsibilities.”

Jace clapped Cregan on the back. “Well, with that settled, I think it’s time for us to relax and enjoy the evening. We’ve made significant progress today.”

As the night wore on, you became engrossed in conversation with Cregan and Jace, discussing everything from politics to personal stories. The laughter and camaraderie were a welcome distraction, and you could feel the beginnings of genuine friendship and trust forming.

Eventually, the evening drew to a close. You and Jace retired to your quarters, the weight of the day’s events settling over you. Jace, ever perceptive, glanced at you with a knowing smile. “It seems you handled yourself admirably today. And from what I gather, Cregan’s quite taken with you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “It’s not just about personal feelings, Jace. This alliance is crucial for our family and the realm.”

He chuckled and patted you on the shoulder. “Of course. But it’s nice to see that amidst all the politics, there’s a chance for something more personal. I think you’ll find that Cregan is more than just a suitable match.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and trepidation. “I hope so. The future is uncertain, but we must make the most of the opportunities we have.”

Jace gave you an encouraging nod before heading to his own quarters. You took a moment to reflect on the day’s events, feeling a sense of cautious optimism. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but for now, you allowed yourself to embrace the hope of new beginnings and strengthened alliances. As you prepared for bed, your thoughts turned to Winterfell, Cregan, and the uncertain future. The world outside your window was quiet and still, a stark contrast to the turbulence you had just experienced. With a deep breath, you resolved to face whatever came next with determination and grace, knowing that the support of allies like Cregan would be crucial in the trials ahead.

The following morning dawned crisp and clear, with a fresh layer of frost covering the grounds of Winterfell. As you emerged from your chambers, the cold air was invigorating, and you marveled at the stark beauty of the northern landscape. The vast snow-covered fields and towering trees seemed to hold a strength despite the harsh weather, much like the people of the North.

You and Jace joined Cregan and his men for breakfast in the Great Hall. The hall was a warm contrast to the winter outside, with a roaring hearth and long wooden tables laden with hearty fare. The atmosphere was filled with ease and camaraderie, the earlier formalities now replaced by genuine friendship.

Cregan greeted you with a smile as you entered. “Good morning, Princess. I hope you slept well.”

You returned the smile, feeling genuine fondness for the young lord. “Good morning, Lord Stark. I did, thank you. The hospitality of Winterfell is most appreciated.”

Cregan gestured for you to take a seat next to him. Jace and Cregan were already deep in conversation. As you settled into your seat, the conversation turned to more pressing matters.

“Yesterday, we discussed the need for aid at the Wall,” Cregan began, his tone serious. “Given the current state of affairs, it’s imperative that we bolster our defenses. The threat from beyond the Wall is ever-present.”

Jace nodded in agreement. “I understand the urgency, and I believe our mother will be able to grant the request once she has secured her position. In the meantime, we must focus on forging strong alliances and ensuring that our support is as solid as possible.”

You took a sip of your drink, contemplating the implications. “Lord Stark, what more can we do to support the North in the meantime? Perhaps there are other ways we can assist while awaiting our mother’s response.”

Cregan looked at you with admiration. “Your willingness to assist is commendable, Princess. If you can lend your voice and presence to the cause as the princess of the realm and future lady of the North, it may sway others to offer their aid as well.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “I would be honored to assist in rallying support.”

The conversation continued with plans for how best to proceed. As the meeting wrapped up, Cregan took you aside. “Princess Y/n, if you’re willing, I’d like to show you more of Winterfell. There’s much to see, and it might provide some context for our discussions.”

You agreed, intrigued by the offer.

As Cregan led you through the sprawling castle, he pointed out various features, sharing stories and history that made Winterfell feel even more alive. The grand hall, the training grounds, the crypts—each part of the castle seemed to hold its own story and significance. As you walked together, you opened up about your own experiences and perspectives. Cregan listened intently, his thoughtful responses showing a deep understanding and respect for your views.

“This is a remarkable place,” you said, looking out over the snowy landscape from one of the castle’s high windows. “It’s clear that the North has a history of resilience and strength.”

Cregan smiled. “Indeed. The North is not just a land of harsh winters but of strong people who endure and thrive despite the challenges. I believe this strength will be crucial as we face the trials ahead.”

As the tour concluded, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The bond between you and Cregan seemed to be growing stronger, not just as potential allies but as individuals who understood each other’s burdens and hopes.

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Prologue

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: You ran.

It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.

So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?

How could you run from this? From them?

…Would you? CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 9.4k

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.

Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.

They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.

Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?

Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them. 

You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.

You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.

You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.

Paper lanterns.

You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air. 

You envied them. 

They made you nauseous with longing.

They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.

They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia. 

Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.

It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.

So, why?

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.

You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.

You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.

As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.

The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.

In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.

The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before. 

You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse. 

Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.

Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.

Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Run.

It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation. 

Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?

The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it. 

Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.

…It didn’t last. 

Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.

Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.

That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.

Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.

New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively. 

They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.

You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.

Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word. 

His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.

A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.

He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.

When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.

“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.

Paper lantern.

“I want to ask you out properly.”

Tether. 

His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.

Kite.

The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward. 

You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.

You were not free.

You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.

You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.

You ran.

You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.

Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.

You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.

Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.

That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.

Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.

Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.

You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.

Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.

So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.

Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.

You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.

Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.

It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.

With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.

Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.

It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.

You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.

It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.

Less chance of being tied down.

With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.

You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded. 

He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.

Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.

“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing. 

“Yeah, could you take me here?”

He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”

You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”

The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”

I fucking hate cities.

“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you. 

You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.

“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”

You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”

The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver. 

He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.

It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.

“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”

He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.

So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.

“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”

“Chaos?” You raised a brow.

“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”

A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.

Except, there wasn’t any.

Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.

The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.

Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway. 

Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.

Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.

Nothing could.

You were sure of it.

Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.

“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.

It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.

“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.

He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Are you sure?”

Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”

His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”

“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”

Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.

Your lungs deflated.

The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.

It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.

Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.

“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud. 

With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.

Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?

There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.

Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.

Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.

Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.

At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went. 

Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done. 

You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.

You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.

Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.

Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.

Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.

She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.

The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living. 

Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.

What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door. 

After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.

Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.

You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.

Had nature always been this green before?

Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.

Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.

For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.

Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no.  A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.

Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.

You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.

A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.

Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.

With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.

While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them. 

Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.

The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.

Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing. 

Doomed by the narrative once again.

Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.

It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.

The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.

In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:

This feels right.

It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.

Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?

Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.

Yet.

Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”

The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”

“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.

Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.

The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.

“Eat,” she insisted.

You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”

The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”

You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.

This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.

“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.

You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”

“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”

“No, I moved here.”

Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”

Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”

The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”

If you had a nickel.

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.

At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”

The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.

You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.

Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”

“You’re going to try to repair it?”

“Yeah. Keyword being try.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.

“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”

Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”

Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”

Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”

Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”

“Promise me, young lady.”

“I promise.”

She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”

“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?

“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”

Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?

“But– but that’s not–”

“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?

Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.

The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?

Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.

“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.

Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”

“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”

Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”

“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”

“You really don’t–”

She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”

Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”

“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”

And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.

You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you. 

The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.

Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway

A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not. 

Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.

All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.

It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.

It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.

The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close. 

They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food. 

Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.

The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?

Could fish feel depression?

Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.

While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.

You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.

About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.

Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.

A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.

Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.

Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.

Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.

And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction. 

There was nothing. 

Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.

Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.

Maybe that was your cue to leave.

You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.

You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.

You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.

Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.

(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)

Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.

It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.

So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.

It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.

You had it all figured out.

Didn't you?

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.7 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warning: mentions of trauma, violence, abuse

See masterlist

All her life, she has been an outcast. After all, rumours spread fast when you live in a small place.

"She is cursed."

"No normal being has what she has."

"Stay away from her."

"Did you hear? She is not fae because of that."

All because of one traitor. All because she trusted the wrong 'friend' to tell and show it to.

It did not get better when the rumours reached him either.

She still has the burns on her legs from that night to prove that.

He was tying her onto the table. She was screaming, trying to fight him, pleading for whoever would listen, to come save her. No one came.

A slap across her right cheek.

"Shut your mouth! You have already embarassed me enough by having your deformity be the talk of every Illyrian camp to exist."

She was completely tied to the table. Her weak, bony, bruised arms and legs were secured to the edges with really tight and thick ropes.

"No! Let me go!"

That was when he took the heated metal, red-hot in appearance, and started to come closer to her.

He prepared for this. He was planning to do this to her all along because that iron did not get so hell-hot in a matter of seconds.

Maybe today was the day. Her end.

To her surprise, he applied it not to her chest, but to her legs. Nonstop, taking turns for each leg.

She tried. She really tried not to scream, not to give him the satisfaction of her pain but, how could she not? She was being burned for Cauldron's sake! She held out for a minute before succumbing into the pain.

She did not remember the rest because she passed out after who knows which burn.

She was 15.

So why her? Why was she the chosen one? Why should she close the gates? Was she not the cursed one? Why did The Book of Breathings send her here? What is her purpose?

So many questions. Seems like her plan to go home as soon as possible and leave them to deal with their own problems would have to be erased.

With a sigh, she looked up at the bright blue sky as she and Fenrys finally made it out of the warded area into the clearing.

Apparently, all this thinking has made her blind because the next thing she knows, y/n is colliding with a hard wall- no, muscle. She looked up to see that it was none other than Fenrys, holding her by her arms so she can balance her body once again. She was pressed to his body.

With an awkward move, she staggered back and tried to stop herself from blushing like a tomato. And from the amused smirk on Fenrys' face, she was doing a terrible job at keeping herself composed.

"I-...sorry,"

He let out a small chuckle as he came closer, "Let that be a lesson to not daydream while walking."

She scoffed and turned her face while crossing her arms, "I was NOT daydreaming."

She tried and failed to hide her sneaky smile.

He turned her around so that they were face to face as he said, "Hmmm sure, whatever you say. I can winnow us out of here now. Hopefully, this time you won't make a scene about it."

"I was NOT making a scene either, I was just- wait. Did you just say winnow? As in, the way we say it in Prythian?"

Fenrys simply shrugged before taking her hand and as the world around them began disapearing, all he said was, "Just a slip up. I will never say it again."

Y/n could not stop the smile that formed on her face.

When they arrived at the grand hall, the first thing y/n noticed was that her legs were sore after walking for so many days. Scratch that. Her whole body was sore. Sleeping on the ground does that to you. Damn those tall trees and their dense leaves, she couln't even fly! Going to bed right now and sleeping for a whole day or two did not sound like a bad plan at all.

The second thing she noticed was that Aedion's right arm was covered in bandages and hanging from a sling. How on earth did he manage to break his arm? Looks like they were not the only ones who had a tough journey.

And the third thing she noticed was a new face. Silver hair like moonlight highlighted a face so beautiful, y/n wondered if this woman was even real. Lips covered in a seductive red color that would make any being fall on their knees for her. When her eyes that were the color of burnt gold locked with y/n's gaze, the woman seemingly assesed her from head to toe. In turn, y/n did the same. She was wearing some kind of scale-embossed black, leather coat-dress with a silver chain around her torso, and a small, red fabric dangling from the chain. Her simple, black pants and knee high boots added an air of dominance to her overall look.

Was this Manon? Fenrys mentioned her name earlier but y/n was too distracted with the loud roars coming from that weird flying thing that she was almost not paying any attention.

"Shhh"

"Don't shush me!"

"This is getting a little too intense guys"

"No, it is getting exciting. Just look at the way they are coldly looking at one another! Fight, Fight, Fi-"

"Gods, Aedion stop that! Are you a child?!"

Y/n was pulled out of her haze as she looked around the room to see everyone looking between her and Manon. Apparently, they were too intense with their assessment of one another.

Manon, seemingly unfazed, just kept on staring at her face with cool indifference. So, y/n did the same. She was not about to look scared in front of this woman.

Aelin, clearly seeing the tension, came forward while clearing her throat.

"Y/n, this is Manon. Manon Blackbeak. She is The Queen of Witches and our bestest friend." she said jokingly as she tried side-hugging Manon, to which the woman scoffed and removed her arm while smirking slightly.

So she was a witch. The Queen of Witches. Oh, Nesta would have loved her.

"Manon dearest, this is the one and only Y/n. Anddd I would be glad if you could stop giving her death stares now. You too, y/n."

Y/n held her ground under Manon's penetrating gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. She could sense the power and confidence radiating from the Queen of Witches, and while it intimidated her, it also intrigued her.

"Manon Blackbeak," Y/n echoed, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. "I've heard a lot about you."

Manon raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading slightly as she regarded Y/n with a calculating gaze.

"Have you now?" she replied, her tone neutral yet tinged with curiosity.

Aelin interjected with a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "Yes, Y/n, Manon here is not just the Queen of Witches but also quite the force to be reckoned with."

Manon's lips quirked in amusement at Aelin's attempt at diplomacy, but she remained silent, her eyes still fixed on Y/n.

Y/n took a breath, deciding to address the tension head-on. "Look, I don't know what your impression of me is, but I'm here to help," she stated firmly, meeting Manon's gaze with determination. "Whatever it takes to close those gates and protect our worlds....aaaanddd finally get me to MY world."

Manon's expression softened for a quick second, a hint of respect gleaming in her eyes. "Words are easy." she remarked cryptically, her voice low but carrying an undertone of acknowledgment.

Rowan cleared his throat, attempting to diffuse the palpable atmosphere. "Yes, well, we're all on the same side here," he said diplomatically, giving a pointed look to both Y/n and Manon. "Let's focus on why we're all gathered. There's a lot at stake."

Manon's gaze lingered on Y/n for a moment longer before she finally broke the stare, her expression unreadable. "Agreed" she said simply, her voice carrying a tone of authority that resonated through the room.

Lysandra got up to her feet "Very well then! Who wants to go first?"

The second she saw Lorcan open his mouth, Lysandra put up her hand as she said, "Nevermind, we will go first."

There were a few chuckles and a full on cruel smirk from Manon directed right at the angry giant.

The green eyed female turned towards her husband and Elide as she said, "Dearest crew mates, shall we begin?"

Aedion was about to say something when she also shut him up "Do not. I am still pissed at you for what you did. Elide, sweetheart, will you do the honors?"

Aedion rolled his eyes as he scoffed and grumbled something under his breath which made Eva let out a wide eyed laugh.

Elide sat on one of the chairs surrounding the large table and sighed "Well, as much as Lysandra just added dramatics and made it seem like we discovered something beyond shocking, we only managed to find one thing that could help us."

"Hey! We needed to add some dramatics to make it seem bigger than it is. Or else they will be disappointed that we don't come with much information. I guess it is all ruined now anyway." Lysandra finished before jokingly sticking her tounge out at Elide.

"If I may-"

"No you may not Aedion."

"Lysandra, please, starlight."

"Fine! Do whatever you want. It is not like I was able to stop you before!"

Y/n, feeling the tension between them, murmured to the blond queen beside her, "What happened with those two?"

Aelin simply sighed and shook her head "If only we knew."

Aedion cleared his throat before adressing the room, "So, after a two day journey JUST to reach the Sanctuary, we were able to acquire a meeting with the head monk. Thanks to Elide's lovely acting and sweet talking. Once we met with the wrinkly, bony, ghost-"

"He was not that at all! Yes, he was quite ancient but so sweet! He even gave us sweet drinks." Elide said before casting a glare at the blond warrior.

Aedion continued, "Yes. Well, he was only sweet to you. I still did not get over the fact that he called my wife a half-beastie."

Lysandra scoffed "You should have let me deal with him on my own! There was no need to cause that fight!"

At that, Aelin interjected "What fight? What on earth are you talking about?"

Lysandra pointed a finger at Aedion before looking at her queen "Did you know, your cousin-"

"What is wrong with protecting my wife-"

"ENOUGH!"

To everyone's absolute shock, it was Elide who shouted that word and got up from her chair, striding to the center of the room with a determined look on her face.

"Look, we went, I charmed the old folks, they allowed us to go through their manuscripts and ancient whatever else. Of course, even my smooth-talk had its limits because we did not get a full access and there were monks and sages looking over our shoulders at any point."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "So, what we managed to find was that the gates are indeed weakened. Apparently, the barriers between realms are awakening. And guess what? The Valg are exploiting these vulnerabilities to gain access to not just our world, but to any world possible."

She then looked pointedly at Aedion and Lysandra "There was this one specific manuscript. Its cover looked very promising I was just about to take it and quickly go through it but..."

Rowan crossed his arms as he urged, "But...what?"

She sighed before looking at no one in particular "But, a specific shifter and a specific warrior ruined it all."

"Wait what-"

"I ruined nothing-"

"Why me-"

Manon's voice cut through the growing commotion, "You fought with a monk because he called Lysandra a half-beastie?"

Aedion got up to his feet, although y/n did see how he hissed a little due to the condition of his arm.

"No. I was beyond mad when the monk said that in the beginning of our little visit of course, but Lysandra somehow managed to calm me. It was not until these two were searching for information and I was in the hall, looking through the window. That cranky old bastard once again came near me and....and fucking dared to not only insult MY wife again, but also MY queen. Saying things how, 'now she remembers them', that Aelin is a 'spoiled brat' and whatever not. I could not take it no more."

Utter silence was in the room as y/n, seeing the state he got into, carefully asked, "And how exactly did you break your arm?"

He sighed before plopping down on the couch and looking her fiercely in the eyes. "The bastard managed to push me quite forcefully with his magic into a wall. I beat him up in the end of course, but he still managed to win this one from me." He paused as he pointed to his arm before looking at his wife and then, cousin "But I would do it all again if it meant that I could rip his head out this time. The females of my household will never be disrespected."

Rowan came forward and put his hand on Aedion's shoulder, a sign of respect and gratitude for protecting his mate's honor.

Aelin also came forward and sat next to her cousin, put her hand on his right shoulder, before continuing, "You should be more careful next time. I am grateful nonetheless cousin. Hopefully, those bony bastards will know their place from now on."

Before anyone could say anything, she cleared her throat and looked at her mate and Lorcan, "What about you two?"

The two warriors exchanged a look before Lorcan said in a voice so...not agressive or angry that y/n thought she must be hallucinating.

"Anyone who is standing might want to sit down for this one."

Rowan looked at his companion before nodding and then gazing at everyone else in the room.

"When we went to The Riftgate Ruins....while we were studying them, trying to understand anything about what was on them, we noticed that there were recent disturbances or traces of Valg magic that indicate current activity."

Lorcan came forward and continued the story on his brothers behalf, "Since I am, after all, the best and most skilled tracker that there is,"

Y/n nearly felt her eyeballs hit the back of her head because of how hard she was rolling them.

"Detecting Valg magic that leaves distinct residues and traces was not hard. Rowan and I found lingering traces of Valg essence or dark magic around the ruins, which clearly suggests recent Valg activity."

Y/n felt the room physically grow cold as the uncomfortable silence stretched on and on. Is it possible then? Are Valgs back?

Chaol, who was apparently standing by the doorway and listening, asked "But how? We killed them all during the war. Erawan is dead. Shouldn't their connection be severed?"

No one answered him. No one could answer him because no one had an answer to give.

Aelin, fear and determination evident in her gaze, said, "What if they are not all dead? But how would that be? Were they not connected to Erawan?"

Manon sighed before turning her head towards Chaol, "Yrene. Did she find something yet?"

Chaol came into the light and oh Mother above...did he even sleep? His hair was completely dishelved, there were bags under his eyes and why in the seven hells was he limping?

He said in a tired voice, "She is getting close. The language is clearly something she has never seen before so she is giving it her all. Give her some more time."

It was Lysandra who asked, "She won't let anyone into the room, is she atleast well? eating? sleeping? taking care?"

"Of course. My wife is my number one priority. I make sure that she is well."

Fenrys, who had not spoken until now, came closer and put a hand on the brown haired man as he said, "You need rest as well. We will take care of Yrene in whatever she needs. Do not forget what happens when one of you is not well. It affects the other."

What? Y/n made a mental note to ask Aelin on what on earth that meant.

Chaol nodded and got up as he said, "Yes, I will. For her well-being, I will. Just came to give you all the latest news. And apparently got shocking news in turn as well," a look directed at Rowan and Lorcan.

Aelin sighed, "Just go rest. You gave up much of your energy. You both did. We got it for now."

Once Chaol was gone, the queen looked at Eva, smiled sadly and said, "Thanks to Eva's precise book spotting and my exceptional page skimming skills, we managed to quickly find some interesting facts. The Book of Breathings contains ancient spells capable of containing the Valg. In fact, it has a specific text dedicated to sealing them. If this is true, it could only mean one thing, the Valgs already existed when that book was created."

It was Eva who came closer to y/n and looked up at her "But isn't that book in your world? How can we get it into this world?"

Y/n had no idea on what to say apart from, "The book was created using the last of the molten ore used to forge the Cauldron, I thought it only contained spells to control the Cauldron's powers. But if there is a specific area in it that is dedicated to the Valgs then it could mean that when it was created, the Vags attempted to endanger my world as well."

Lysandra put her face in her palms and muttered "This is getting worse by the minute."

Elide sighed as she turned her head towards Fenrys and said, "Please tell me you two atleast found something less....depressive."

Right. Y/n and Fenrys also had to tell about their findings. Great.

It wasn't until Fenrys came and stood near her that y/n realized how her heart was about to rip out of her chest. She was anxious and uncomfortable just by talking about what they found out.

All of a sudden, she felt this overwhelming amount of calm and soothing overtake her body. She turned her head to her right to see him standing right next to her now. She would never say it out loud but, y/n was glad that Fenrys was beside her during this revelation.

He seemingly understood her state because he cast her a quick glance before beginning to talk about their 'lovely' little journey.

Fenrys looked at everyone in the room as he recounted the events, from the appearence of the otherworldly seers to the revelations thrown upon them. Once he was done, the room went through another intensely extended period of silence as everyone processed his words.

Aelin had pure shock on her face while Rowan was just staring at the wall, his gaze unfocused, Lysandra tilted her head backwards and closed her eyes, Aedion stared at the ground, unmoving, Elide gasped before putting her hand on her mouth and looking at no one in particular, Lorcan had a frustrated look on his face directed at Fenrys, Eva was just looking up at y/n with wide eyes and Manon....well she was harder to understand but from the slight furrow in her brows y/n guessed that she was still analyzing Fenrys' words.

Y/n cleared her throat and came a little forward "Well, it seems like I can not go home until we solve your problem."

Aedion, still staring at the ground, replied "It may also become your world's problem if we do not put an end to this quickly."

Before y/n could reply, Rowan said to no one in particular "We need a properly constructed plan" before seemingly coming back from his haze and immediately leaving the room followed by a confused yet determined Lorcan.

Y/n saw how everyone, especially Aelin was still processing the information so, she said with a sigh, "I am going to rest. I do not think my mind is able to form any coherent thoughts right now." without looking back or waiting for an answer, she turned around and ascended the grand stairs.

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes was all the time she could sleep for- or atleast force herself to sleep for. Her body was begging her earlier for some good sleep and food but now, as she lay in bed, she was neither hungry nor sleepy. After staring at the ceiling for the past thirty minutes, y/n huffed before getting up and going to change into a more comfortable attire.

Once she discarded her turtleneck, y/n gently touched her throat, pleasantly surprised by how effective Isolde's salve had been on her injury. The mark that had once marred her skin was now barely noticeable, a testament to the healing properties of the salve. With a contented sigh, she planned to apply it once more later, confident that it would soon vanish completely.

Choosing a clean white turtleneck from her wardrobe, y/n slipped it on, followed by dark brown pants and boots.

Once she was ready, y/n stepped onto the balcony, the serene evening view stretching out before her. With a deep breath, she leapt into the air, feeling weightless and free as she soared above the grounds, her mind momentarily liberated from the concern's coming their way. Where she was going, y/n neither had no idea nor did she care as her wings flapped and she felt a sense of happiness and relaxation fall over her.

Fenrys was tired. Exhausted even. There was so much happening that he could barely keep up. He trusted Rowan to make a proper action plan without his help because if he had to stand for another minute, he would end up falling asleep and kissing the ground.

But, after what happened between him and y/n in the woods, Fenrys also had another question bugging his mind. Who hurt her?

He knew that he shouldn't care. That she meant absolutely nothing to him and therefore, he should let her handle her own problems. In fact, he should be delighted that someone caused her discomfort here, made her realize she is not safe in this world. It should have brought him great satisfaction when he pictured her scared face.

But all it brought to him was an overflow of anger and violence. Something within him forced Fenrys to turn violent whenever he thought of her in danger. He will find whoever caused her that mark. And when he does....let the nonexistent Gods have mercy on them because Fenrys for sure won't.

But first, sleep. Just as he was walking the halls to get to his room, he saw her, flying high in the sky, looking so ethereal-

No. Don't be stupid.

He ignored her, continuing on his path. Just go to your room and rest Fenrys. Yes. You don't need to care for her. Or follow her.

5 minutes later, he was outside getting ready to shift into a wolf and....follow her. Whatever this feeling within him was, it was as if he was being tugged or pulled to go wherever she goes.

In his defense, Fenrys tried to reason with himself that he was doing this for safety. What if she was a spy? Maybe she was going somewhere to meet with her accomplice? He was doing it for his queen. For his country. For his family.

But even as Fenrys shifted and began his way into the woods, he knew what a lie it was. He has no reason to still see her as a suspect because even the seers confirmed her innocence. And value to the book apparently.

After what seemed like twenty minutes, he found her, sitting on a medium sized boulder, overlooking the grassy views of Orynth.

He slowly approached her. Like a beast sizing its prey. If he jumped her now, she wouldn't even have time to react before he ripped her throat. But for some reason, even thinking of such a scenario left a sour taste in his mouth.

Apparently she knew he was here because without even turning around, her honey-like voice said, "Seems like you have this severe obsession with hunting and catching me."

She knew it was him without even having to look back. It made no sense how she would always recognize Fenrys out of a thousand others. So, as the giant white wolf shifted beside her into the familiar male, y/n felt a mixture of excitement and curiosity. The transformation from wolf to man was seamless, a testament to Fenrys' mastery over his shapeshifting abilities.

He wordlessly came and sat beside her on the boulder, leaving a respectful distance between them even though just last night they slept in each others arms. It looks like he won't bring that conversation up anytime soon. She won't either.

So, y/n, still not looking at the male beside her, asked, "Where do your people live? Looks like the forests here are very large."

Fenrys who was apparently also preferring to look towards the view instead of her, replied, "These are the palace grounds. I know, they are quite big but the people live just outside this forest. There are towns and villages. Aelin's subjects love her very much."

Y/n smiled a little "Seems like she is a good queen then."

At that, Fenrys also smiled "Yes. The best."

After a minute of silence, he asked "How....how is your life back in your world?"

To say that she was shocked would be an understatement. Fenrys was asking her a question and not throwing another snark remark? Was he being civil with her right now? It surely must be raining rocks.

He should not have asked her this. What even made him ask her this? Why are you entertaining the idea of her? Get up and leave. Now.

But he did not move. Not even a single inch as he watched her turn her head and look at him for the first time since he arrived here. And....what a sight for sore eyes she was.

The sunset was casting a natural glow over her features as she angled her head towards him and those kissable lips began moving- enough.

"My life....well I have um....gone through many different moments in my life- well, I can tell you about my years serving in the Night Court?"

Why was she hesitating to talk about her life? Some uneasy feeling settled over him but he ignored it as he nodded his head slightly, urging for her to continue.

Y/n took a deep breath before looking back at the view "When I met my High Lord, I was a trainer-of sorts for my own academy. Anyways, he and I had some...common beliefs regarding well-"

"Regarding?"

She sighed "Illyrians. Females like me, coming from the Illyrian mountains. That place is....not a kind one. Towards females, I mean. The males there are so traditional, sticking to the old rules where the only job of a female was to cook, clean and work as some kind of a breeding machine. There is this tradition that when we become old enough...female wings should be clipped."

He felt nauseous. How could a place like that exist? How could- wait. Did that mean..."Did they treat you like that? Did they try to clip your wings too?" even saying these words made him see red.

She was clearly uncomfortable now. Her face suddenly became shiny with a thin layer of sweat as she started fiddling with her fingers and looking everywhere but at him.

Something is wrong.

"Y/n-"

"Velaris is a very beautiful place to live in. Rhysand, my ex High Lord, and his ancestors kept that city a secret for a long time. Protecting it from our enemies."

She was avoiding him but it was alright, he would not press on the matter. After all, he would also avoid it if she were to ask him about his past. About what Maeve would force him to do, about his years as her slave- No. Don't go there. Just listen to her soothing voice.

Why was she even telling him these things? Apparently she was greatly missing home and needed someone to vent to.

"Rhysand introduced me to his family who later on also became my family. Cas or well...Cassian, Amren, Mor and...Az."

She felt him slightly stiffen beside her as he asked, "Who?"

Y/n cleared her throat "Azriel. He um...he-I....we were....acquinted."

She saw Fenrys put his arms on his legs and clench his hands slightly as he asked, "Mate?"

Her heart sank. She hates that word. Despises it. Especially the memories it brings up about Azriel.

Clearly, her frustration got the best of her because she snapped, "Not a mate."

Did his shoulders just relax? Why was he mad at her?

"Then...what?"

With a sigh, she tilted her head backwards and looked at the sky "We...we were lovers. 52 years. We were happy and in love or atleast I thought that but clearly I was wrong because this whole time he took me for a fool and played with my feelings."

She was on her feet now, pacing around, fuming to herself "I was such a fool, you know. I thought we were mates, that the bond would snap at any moment. That we were destined to be together. In the end, he found his mate, cheated on me with her for two whole fucking years, confessed how he never loved me, how he only saw me as a placeholder for her, and how my so called 'family' knew of this the whole fucking time!"

She saw nothing, her heart was racing, her vision blurry as she continued, "Feyre, long story short, she was a human once then became a high fae. When Rhys first introduced her to us, I was the one who constantly kept her company, I was the one who ensured her well-being, her proper transition to her new life. I taught her how to improve her shooting skills before the war against Hybern. I was loyal to my High Lady. I would follow her to the ends of the earth."

She let out a cruel, mocking laugh before continuing, "Then came Nesta and Elain. Feyre's two sisters. The King of Hybern threw them inside the Cauldron and turned them into high fae against their own will! And guess what? It was me again who took care of both of them. Especially Nesta because she was so misunderstood. I was the one who stood by her side through thick and thin. I was the one to join her little training session's as a sign of support. That was where I met Gwyn. The cause for my downfall. I was the one who talked sense into Cassian about being a proper mate towards Nesta. I-"

Her words were stuck in her throat. She wanted to cry. No. She won't.

"I...trusted them Fenrys. All of them. Mor and Amren, they were like sisters to me. We fought back to back on battlefields together for Cauldron's sake!"

She suddenly turned around and looked at him but did not see anything as her memories took over her "Do you know what I was doing right before I came here? I found out that the male whom I loved for so long was unfaithful to me for 2 years! 2 years, can you imagine?! And everyone fucking knew. Everyone. I was there for them when they were at their lowest but no one ever was there for me when I started descending into darkness all because Azriel was a little coward! But I was an idiot. Of course they would defend him. Protect him."

It felt good. So good to finally let your emotions out. To let your anger out.

But she could not breathe. She fell on her knees. Her mind was being bombarded with memories, her vision was getting more and more blurry, she was-

Y/n suddenly felt her body being pressed to a solid chest. She looked up to see Fenrys on the ground, holding her tightly to him while a mixture of anger, concern, frustration and pain was written all over his face.

His hands gently smoothed her hair as she laid her head on his chest, hearing his beating heart, "Shhhh, calm down now princess. It is in the past now."

She pressed her face further into his clothing as she murmured, "That doesn't make it any less hurtful."

She felt him sigh, "No, it doesn't."

His voice was so distant now. Y/n moved her head away from his chest to take a better look at his face and...yes he was definitely somewhere far off now, staring into the sunset with a mournful expression.

She quietly asked "What about you? What is your story Fenrys?"

He slowly looked back at her "It is a long one."

Her hand moved before she could even think, finding its place on his cheek. A look of surprise passed over his features as his gaze landed on hers. She smiled slightly, "I am willing to listen."

He gave a weak smile back, "You didn't tell me your full story now, did you?"

She sighed and looked down while closing her eyes, "No. I did not."

The next thing she knew, he put his thumb on her chin, followed by his index finger under her chin, and lifted her head up.

They were so close now, his breath was hitting her face. She could count the freckles on his face. Oh how otherworldy beautiful this male was.

Fenrys' gaze fell onto her lips as he quietly said, "Then we shall talk of our lives some other time."

She gave him a slight nod. Did she? y/n could not even remember because her gaze was locked on his as they started inching closer and closer, their lips about to-

A loud rumble shook the whole place as they were both ripped back from their haze and immediately got up.

Y/n turned around quickly so that he wouldn't see her embarassingly red blush that was beggining to form on her face.

"I-um...thank you...for letting me talk my nonsense."

She felt his hand on her arms as Fenrys turned her around. He had a very serious look on his face as he said, "Do not apologize. You did not talk 'nonsense' you let your feelings out."

Before y/n could reply, there was that loud growl again. Fenrys chuckled "Seems like Abraxos is not happy right now."

Right. Abraxos. That giant beast thing.

"I don't understand how you guys have such giant beast thingies-"

Fenrys let out a full laugh at that and for some reason, y/n wanted to engrave that sound in her memory for ever. Because he is always an arrogant prick who does not know what fun means, she kept telling herself.

"Wyverns, they are called Wyverns. Did you see him yet?"

"What?! No, of course not."

"Then let's go."

"Fenrys wai-"

But Fenrys took her hand and they were gone. The next thing she knew, she was in the middle of the palace grounds and there was this large beast thingie- Wyvern in front of her.

Manon was also here together with Eva and Lysandra as the young girl tried petting it.

As they got closer, she could hear Manon saying, "How many times have I told you to not eat the flowers in the royal gardens?! Just eat the flowers here, you know Aelin and how pissed she gets about her sweet little royal flowers, just avoid me the headache and eat the flowers on this side of the land, you stubborn brute!"

Abraxos only snarled back as Eva and Lysandra laughed loudly.

Eva was the first one to notice them as she ran towards y/n and took her hand, dragging her towards Abraxos.

"Y/n! meet Abraxos, he may look scary but he is the sweetest little creature everrr!"

As she came near it, y/n let out a little uncomfortable chuckle, "Doesn't really seem like a sweet little innocent creature to me."

Lysandra put her hand on y/n's shoulder and smirked "Well, he is the weirdest that's for sure. Unlike other Wyverns who eat humans and whatever living being they can get their teeth on, this fellow over here eats...flowers."

She heard Fenrys chuckle behind her as Manon scoffed.

Before anyone could say anything, Abraxos moved towards her with surprising gentleness, his massive wings folded back in a display of docility. His scales shimmered in the final few rays of light coming from the sunset, reflecting hues of deep blues and black that glinted like polished gemstones.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to retreat or stand her ground. Abraxos approached cautiously, his large eyes fixed on her with an almost curious gaze. She could feel the warmth of his breath as he sniffed the air around her, his demeanor unexpectedly gentle despite his imposing size.

Eva beamed beside her, her enthusiasm undimmed. "See? He likes you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with delight.

Y/N managed a nervous smile, tentatively reaching out a hand to stroke Abraxos' scaled muzzle. To her surprise, he leaned into her touch, emitting a low rumble that sounded almost like contentment.

"He's... actually quite sweet," y/n admitted, her initial apprehension melting away in the presence of the gentle giant before her.

Manon crossed her arms, a begrudging smile playing on her lips. "Don't let him fool you," she warned, though her tone held a hint of fondness. "He's a soft spot for anyone who shows him kindness."

Lysandra chuckled softly. "Well, you've won him over, y/n. Not many can claim that honor."

Fenrys stepped forward, his usual guarded expression softening as he watched the scene unfold. "Abraxos has a way of surprising us all," he remarked, a note of respect in his voice.

She felt the world around them fade away as if it was just her and this beast who was starting to warm its way to her heart. How is this even possible?

A servant came running towards them as she said, "Dinner is ready your majesty and....ladies and...lord Fenrys...." The poor girl squeled and ran away the second Abraxos moved and everyone let out a chuckle, especially Fenrys who said while shaking his head, "Still can't understand why they don't call me by my name when I am not even a lord."

Lysandra and Eva began going towards the palace as the former said while still smiling, "Well it sure is hilarious to watch them stumble over their words when they are in your presence."

Fenrys smirked and moved towards the palace but stopped when he saw y/n still petting Abraxos.

"Aren't you coming?"

"You go. I will join you in a minute."

He smiled slightly but turned around and walked after Lysandra and Eva.

"You know that Eva has a crush on you right?"

Y/n was startled by Manon's voice. She was leaning against her Wyvern's side, arms crossed, watching y/n like a hawk. Seems like The Queen of Witches also hadn't left yet.

"What? No, of course she doesn't"

Manon looked towards the palace as she said, "The girl literally has hearts in her eyes whenever she looks at you. Clings to you like a koala bear. Besides, I heard her telling Lysandra how she can't wait to grow up and confess her 'undying love' for you. Poor child."

The silver haired witch looked back at her. Y/n let out a laugh that was soon joined by a small smirk on Manon's face.

"Well then, I guess I will have to wait for the next 5 years for her to come of age and confess her love to me. Pity that I am over a hundred years older than her." y/n said jokingly while still chuckling.

Suddenly, she let out a low hiss as her hand got pricked by one of the sharp, small scales on Abraxos, causing her blood to trickle down her palm.

No, not here. Please. Not now.

She had to hide her curse. Her lifelong secret. Her lifelong doom.

Manon can not see-

A gasp came from beside her as The Queen of Witches took her hand and inspected it. After what felt like an eternity, Manon raised her head, eyes slightly widened as she said,

"Your blood is blue. You are an Ironteeth Witch."

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

A/n: Sooo y/n's secret is out now. Wonder what will happen next;)) Thank you all for reading!

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@acotar-writing @paleidiot @snoopyspace @stained-glass-eyes0708 @saltedcoffeescotch

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[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.6

Chapter Summary: You arrive at Ellie's family's house, but it's not what you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, mentions of child abuse (not SA), mentions of slavery, angst

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ellie was quiet the next morning, picking slowly at her granola bar and bent over, staring at her book. It was the day you expected to arrive at her aunt and uncle's house, and you had a hunch she was feeling bittersweet about it. When you woke up, you had a pit in your stomach that you assumed had something to the conversation you had with Joel the night before, but as the morning wore on, you realized there was a different reason. You weren't ready to let Ellie go.

"Hey," you said, nudging her knee so she would look up. "You excited to see your family?"

"I guess," she said with a shrug. Joel appeared to only be half listening as he nursed his coffee across from you.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to see you," you replied. "They probably don't even know you're alive. You said you were taken from their house, right?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "After my parents died, they took me in. I can't really remember much, but I know it was nighttime and I had a bag over my head, but I don't remember them breaking into the house, I must've been asleep."

"And it was the Fireflies who took you?" you asked.

"I'm not sure. It wasn't Marlene's group, if it was. There was more of us, they kept us all in this gross basement or something. No one could tell where we were, and whenever they moved us, they had the bags over our heads."

"Jesus," Joel muttered to himself with a shake of his head.

"How do you know it wasn't Marlene?" you asked gently, curious to learn more, but worried about upsetting her.

"Because after a few months, they took me and a couple others to Marlene's camp. She never made us wear the bags," Ellie explained.

"They hurt you?" Joel asked. His eyebrows were pinched as if he were bracing himself.

"A little," she admitted quietly. Your gaze dropped down to your hands, trying not to show her the emotion on your face. "They'd hit us if we weren't working fast enough, or trip us just for fun, I guess."

"I'm so sorry, Ellie," you whispered, reaching out a hand to place on her knee.

You exchanged a pained look with Joel before dropping the subject. At least she was going back home. She might not be excited yet, but you were willing to bet she would be once she saw her family again.

"We're doing the right thing," you murmured to him when you were out of earshot as Ellie packed up her belongings. "I know you weren't on board with this at first, but we're giving her a chance at a decent life."

"Second we get back I'm tellin' Tommy we are cuttin' all ties with these people," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't care what they got to offer."

You nodded, feeling the anger rolling off of him as he aggressively folded up his sleeping bag. You grabbed your pack and kicked dirt over what little fire remained, snuffing out the embers before reviewing the map once more.

Thankfully, her family didn't live within the city itself. Cities were heavily populated, which meant more risk of infected, soldiers, or hostile people. You tended to avoid them at all costs. They lived in a small town outside of the city called Morristown, which didn't have much outside of a post office, a school, and a fire department. The residential homes were built far apart from each other, scattered and disorganized. You got the feeling that people who used to live in this town knew everyone's business, it was so tiny. And you also had the feeling these were the types of people that shot first and asked questions later, given the extent it appeared they went for privacy.

"That's my school!" Ellie said excitedly, pointing down the street. Joel was focused on the map, trying to find the way to Spirit Drive, but you twisted your head so you could see the building she pointed out in the distance.

"That's cool, Ellie," you said warmly, happy to see she finally had a small smile on her face. "What was your favorite subject?"

She went on to tell you about her art class and a teacher she adored, and all the while you stared at her, listening to her stories while your heart ached. You imagined her in that school, with her friends, playing sports, eating lunch, and something inside you burned. It almost felt like jealousy, but that didn't make sense. It was a feeling you couldn't put your finger on, but you thought you knew what it was when you turned down her street, swallowing the lump in your throat when the realization set in that you were minutes away from never seeing her again.

"This the place?" Joel asked Ellie, squinting his eyes between her and the map. The house didn't look like much. It was a small, brick ranch with a long, gravel driveway that led up to a dilapidated grey barn. The hinges on the storm door to the front house were originally black, but now orange with rust. White paint chipped from the door in long strips, and the front garden was long abandoned and overgrown.

"Yeah," she said, looking at the barn.

"Do you think they're still here?" you asked, a flicker of hope igniting in you. Maybe if they weren't here, you could convince Joel to take her back to Jackson.

"Oh, yeah. They're here," she said confidently. You both glanced down at her.

"How're you so sure?" Joel asked, and she tilted her chin up towards the corner of the house. You both followed her gaze, noticing the cameras for the first time. They were small, it was no wonder you missed them, but they were there and definitely working. You could see a little red light flashing in the lens when the camera swooped across the lawn and over the driveway, where you all stood.

Joel slowly flicked his eyes around the house, counting at least seven cameras that he could see from his position. Then his gaze traveled to the barn, where he thought he could make out at least five more.

"How in the hell did you get taken from this place with all these cameras?" he asked. She didn't reply, and he wasn't really expecting an answer.

"So, what do we do?" you asked Joel quietly. "Do we just go up and knock?"

Joel twisted around to glance at Ellie, but she wasn't paying attention. She fidgeted her fingers inside her long sleeves as she stared out across the wide open dusty, dirty land the house was built on.

"I'll go up and knock, you two stay back," he decided, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck before venturing further down the driveway. The sun was blazing, even more so in the desert with little to no shade. You couldn't imagine how uncomfortable Ellie must have been in her long sleeves.

"That's far enough!" a man's voice rang out. Joel stopped dead in his tracks, whipping his head around to try to locate the source. Then he saw movement. An older man with a scraggly grey beard and balding head emerged from the barn, aiming a rifle right at Joel. He held his hands up in the air, showing from a distance that he meant no harm.

"Is that your uncle?" you whispered, holding your hands up as well.

"Yeah, that's Uncle Dave," she said, but she seemed unbothered by the threat. In fact, she shoved her hands in her pockets as she waited for him to approach.

"We aren't lookin' for trouble," Joel called out as Dave slowly made his way closer, his eyes transfixed on Joel. "We're here-"

"Toss your weapons on the ground!" Dave ordered, readjusting his grip on his rifle.

"Okay," Joel said, nodding, and slowly reached around to pluck the handgun from the back of his pants with two fingers. He held it up and gently tossed it on the ground in front of him.

"You too, missy," Dave said without even looking at you. You followed suit, slowly removing your gun and tossing it on the ground at your side. When you were no longer armed, Dave relaxed a bit, letting his shoulder drop but still aiming the rifle at Joel's chest. He finally allowed his gaze to drift behind Joel, looking briefly at you before his eyes landed on Ellie. He hesitated and swallowed roughly before forcing out a harsh chuckle.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Junebug! Get out here, you ain't never gonna believe this!"

A rounder woman with glasses and tight curly blonde hair emerged from the barn behind Dave, a scowl painting her features as she walked forward, aiming a revolver at Joel. When she looked over and noticed Ellie, her expression changed. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she let her gun fall to her side.

"Ellie!" the woman cried out, trotting clumsily down the driveway towards you. You looked down at Ellie, expecting her to finally show some excitement, but she only offered them a pained smile.

"Hiya, Aunt June," Ellie said before being enveloped in a huge bear hug.

"Oh, my sweet girl! I thought I would never see you again," June said with tears in her eyes. Dave watched the two reunite from his position in front of Joel, the rifle now slung over his shoulder.

Ellie stepped back and introduced you and Joel to her family. She explained you were helping her and keeping her safe, and the two adults began to warm up to you after that.

"Please, why don't you stay the night?" June offered. "We'll make you dinner and give you a warm bed, it's the least we could do." Ellie turned to you and nodded, a genuine smile finally spreading across her face.

You felt Joel hesitate next to you, but you quickly accepted her offer, not ready to leave Ellie just yet. He gave you a sideways glance before giving June and Dave a tight smile and followed them into the house, only after picking up your weapons from the ground.

The inside of the house matched the outside. It was well lived in and dated, but it was clean. You glanced around the living room, noticing there didn't seem to be any family pictures around, just landscape art and a clock on the wall.

June gave you a brief tour of the small house and showed you their spare bedroom, where you and Joel left your backpacks.

"Why don't you help me in the kitchen, dear, and leave the men to their own devices," June said, her pink cheeks pinching into a smile. You looked at Joel, trying to read his expression. He gave you a quick nod, confirming he was comfortable with being separated, and you returned her smile.

"That sounds great," you told her.

Dave led Joel down into the basement, explaining along the way that he would be 'blown away' by his set up down there. Ellie had mentioned they were preppers, and based on the cameras, you had to assume the basement was remodeled to be a safe room or a bunker.

You helped June chop up vegetables while she kneaded dough to make chicken pot pie. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a home cooked meal.

"We've been traveling for over a week, eating mostly trail mix and rabbit. This will be wonderful, thank you so much," you told her.

"Of course, dear. It's no trouble at all. Ellie!" June called out. Ellie came around the corner, her sketch pad hanging limply at her side.

"C'mon, girl, you forget how to help out around here?" June asked, her brows furrowed for a moment before she realized how harsh she sounded. She turned to you and laughed, her features relaxed again. "Kids, you know?"

You smiled and looked back at Ellie to gauge her reaction. She seemed quiet and closed off, but you brushed it off, chalking it up to the long day.

June held out a butcher knife to her, and Ellie hesitated, her eyes flicking from her aunt to the knife.

"Auntie, please don't make me," she said, eyes wide.

"You know the rules, don't tell me you forgot now," she replied lowly. Ellie reached out a shaky hand to pick up the knife.

"What is this?" you asked, putting your hand out to stop her.

"Well, we need chicken for the chicken pot pie, don't we now?" June said sweetly, and you were beginning to feel like that ruddy smile of hers was a little fake.

"I'll do it," you said, stepping in front of Ellie, hand outstretched for the knife.

"Now, I appreciate the offer, dear, but Ellie understands it's part of her chores, right?" she said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. She nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the floor.

"She can chop the vegetables and I'll take care of the chicken," you told her, your tone becoming more insistent.

June's watery eyes wavered between you and Ellie as she weighed her options. You glanced down at the butcher knife in her red, flour covered hands, then looked back at her.

"I insist," you said darkly, dropping the fake pleasantries. June's gaze dragged up to remain locked on you.

"Girl's gotta learn to be comfortable with killing," she replied, but you reached out and snatched the knife from her grip before she had a chance to blink.

"That's alright, I could use some practice, myself," you told her, refusing to break eye contact.

The tension in the room was thick, even Ellie was shifting her weight, trying to make herself as small as possible. You waited for June to try to argue with you again or say something to Ellie that didn't sit right, but it never came. As if storm clouds passed, her eyes cleared up and she blinked at you, a smile spreading across her flushed cheeks.

"Well, then," she said, dusting her hands on her apron. "Coop's out back. Suppose we should thank our guest, right Ellie?" June said, raising an eyebrow at the girl. Ellie nodded and looked up at you.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"No problem, kid," you muttered, giving June one last glance before heading out the back door.

"This here's an AK-47, got maybe six of these fuckers," Dave said, his fingertips grazing the weapon on the wall as he passed. "Just about anything you can think of, I probably got two of 'em."

For someone who hoarded weapons in an underground bunker, Joel would have thought the man would be a little more subtle. A little less eager to show a complete stranger his entire stash. But then again, men like Dave loved to show off. If they couldn't boast about it, then what was the point?

"Real nice set up you got here," Joel murmured, knowing the man was waiting for a compliment. Dave's chest puffed with pride before he opened a sliding door in the back of the basement, revealing a small room filled with different sized monitors, cameras all cycling through the different angles he had covering his property. Joel was wrong: he had way more than just the cameras he saw. They rotated to different views all around the outside of the house. He noticed the only cameras that were monitoring indoors were in the barn where he saw an old John Deere tractor and a pickup truck flash on the screen.

"Jesus," Joel whispered, taking a step forward, but still not entering the small room. "How the hell you manage to watch these all the time?"

"Ah," Dave said proudly, tapping his finger against his temple. "I got motion alerts. Sends out an alarm when I'm sleeping or taking a shit or whatever. Gets annoying, though. Mostly just birds or other animals, so I turn it off during the day. But sometimes... sometimes I get something good."

"Like us?" Joel said, and Dave laughed.

"Yeah... yep, exactly like you," he replied, trailing off as he stared at Joel.

"Y'know," Dave said after a moment, stepping back to shut the door. "There's folks around here who pay good money for things, if you're ever in the market to buy or sell."

"We don't got much, but we're doin' just fine," Joel said, beginning to feel uneasy.

"Nah, see, that's where you're wrong, friend," Dave replied, pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing one to Joel. "You do got somethin'."

Joel held the glass tightly, bringing it up to his lips and pretending to take a sip before setting it down. Something told him he should keep his wits about him. He raised his eyebrows at Dave, waiting for him to continue.

"That girl with you up there," he began, and Joel felt his stomach twist at the mention of you. "She would fetch you a fair price with the folks I know."

Joel froze, doing his damndest to not let his emotions show. The pieces were starting to click. He clenched his jaw and swallowed lightly before taking a deep breath.

"That right?" he replied, urging him to continue. He needed to get back upstairs, for the first time realizing you all might be in danger.

"Hell yeah. Medicine, food, weapons. I'm sure of it," he said with a click of his tongue. "I make one radio call and they could be here in two days."

"Hm," Joel replied, clenching his fists behind his back. "Lemme think on it, yeah?"

"Sure, sure," he said with a wave. "Don't think too long, though. One day, someone'll take her. It's just a matter of if you get to benefit from it or not, you get me?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Yeah," Joel said. "I get you."

Joel decided you weren't leaving his sight. He was relieved when June called down, letting them know dinner was ready, so he could make sure you were okay without making an excuse to leave and raise suspicion. A man like Dave with a whole arsenal at his disposal wasn't someone he wanted to tangle with. He had to be careful.

A cynical part of him wondered if he should be worried about the food, but he knew you helped prepare it. You were smart, you would have noticed if something was going on.

But when he climbed the stairs and locked eyes with you, he knew something was wrong. You didn't show it, but he could tell by the way your smile didn't reach your eyes.

He settled down at the table as you and June scooped out the meal on everyone's your plates while Ellie silently brought everyone glasses of water. When she set Joel's down, he tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn't look at him.

"Ellie, why don't you get Joel 'n me whiskies. You ladies want anything stronger?" Dave asked, tucking his napkin into his shirt. You shook your head and politely declined as you took your seat next to Joel, your knee purposely knocking against his under the table. He glanced at you, your lips pressed in a thin line as you looked down at your food, not wanting to raise suspicion but desperately wanting to warn him that these people seemed off.

"You know, I've been meaning to try that margarita mix we traded for last week," June said thoughtfully. "Ellie, let me show you how to make it." June waddled out of the kitchen and into the living room, behind Ellie. You heard their voices carrying over faintly as June instructed her how to make her drink.

"This looks great, honey. What's in it?" Joel asked, turning and giving you a pointed look. Honey. He never called you that. It got your attention, and you gave him a quick, curious look before you understood his underlying question. Is this safe to eat? Your gaze drifted back to Dave, who was watching the two of you talk.

"Just normal stuff," you told him. "Nothing special. Veggies, chicken."

His eyes bored into yours, trying to communicate silently with you. You figured it out. Something happened in the basement that worried him, the same way June's behavior worried you.

"Alright, let's dig in!" June said cheerily, entering the kitchen with a yellow drink in her hand. Ellie followed dutifully behind with two glasses of whiskey, placing them in front of the men before sitting across from you.

"This is great, Junebug," Dave told his wife after a few forkfuls. June smiled as she sipped from her glass. You and Joel choked down the meal, offering your compliments and thanks once again, while Ellie silently pushed her food around her plate.

"Not a whiskey man, Joel?" Dave asked, his eyes growing glassy from the drink he had in the basement and now his second one.

"It's just been a long journey," Joel explained, but took a small sip anyway. "Feelin' real tired, is all."

Ellie glanced up and looked at Joel, knowing full well he wasn't tired. In the short time she knew him, it was like pulling teeth to admit he was tired. She looked back and forth between him and you, trying to read your faces without being obvious.

"Quit playing with your food," June told her harshly, finishing up her margarita. "You should be so lucky to have a roof over your head and food in your belly."

Joel stiffened next to you but didn't look up from his plate, his mind racing, trying to formulate a plan.

"You know what? That drink looked good," you said suddenly. "Ellie, why don't you show me if you remember how to make it?" You stood up from the table and Ellie jumped to her feet to follow you.

"Bring me another, too," June barked as Ellie followed you around the corner to the bar cart in the living room.

"What the hell is going on here, Ellie?" you muttered quietly, picking up the margarita mixer and pouring it into a glass.

"It's how they always are," she whispered. "They aren't exactly good with kids, but it's fine."

"No, it's not fine," you whispered back, holding your hand out to keep her from pouring tequila in your glass, choosing to just drink the mixer, not wanting alcohol to dull your senses. You nudged her hand to make her pour a little extra tequila in her aunt's glass. "This isn't how you should be living."

"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked sharply before turning on her heel and heading back into the kitchen. You trailed after her, finding your seat next to Joel and taking a sip of the fake drink and trying to ignore the guilt. You had no idea how you were going to be able to leave her behind with these people.

You helped June clean up the dishes after dinner while the men filed into the living room. Joel had drank his first glass, but held up his hand when Dave offered a second, rubbing his eyes and reminding him how tired he felt. He needed to get you alone and get you the hell out of here, paranoid that Dave would call those people to do a "trade" for you like he was already suspecting happened originally with Ellie. What else would explain kidnappers being able to bypass his security system?

As if reading his mind, Dave asked "Think any more about what I told you downstairs?"

Joel yawned, trying to hide his anger by contorting his face.

"Lemme sleep on it, get back to you in the mornin', I'm beat," he said, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick. If he was, Dave didn't seem to notice, the whiskey doing its job by keeping him oblivious.

"Alright now, Ellie. Time to get ready for bed," June said, her drink sloshing in her glass. "Say goodbye and thank you to your friends."

You could see the despair in Ellie's face. Trying hard not to cry, you wrapped her in a hug and whispered it will be okay in her ear before pulling back, swallowing hard. She was about to reach for her sketch pad when, much to your surprise, Joel suddenly leaned down and pulled her into a hug. Ellie also looked shocked, not sure what to do at first but eventually brought her arms up around his ribs. You thought you could see him whisper something in her ear, but it happened so fast, you weren't sure.

"Okay, off you go," June told her, and Ellie quickly walked down the hall without another word. You watched her go, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You sat next to Joel, trying to appear interested in what her aunt and uncle were talking about, but you realized it didn't matter the more they drank. Joel's hand dropped on the couch next to you, grasping your hand and stroking his thumb over your knuckles. You looked up at him sadly as he tried to wordlessly say it's okay, I'll get us out of this.

After another hour, Dave stood to tend to the fire, stumbling in the process. June chuckled, her face redder than usual.

"Time for bed, old man," she teased, and he grunted in response, pushing a log around with the poker before straightening back up.

"Suppose you're right, Junebug," he replied. You could hear the alcohol in his voice, the way he spoke slightly louder and slower than usual.

"You two need anything, you just holler," June said, pushing herself off the couch. "Clean sheets are in the closet."

You and Joel stood, watching as they made their way slowly down the hall to their bedroom, June mumbling to Dave until their door quietly clicked shut.

You immediately swiveled around to Joel but he clamped a hand over your mouth, shaking his head. You nodded and he removed his hand, leading you down the other end of the hall to the guest room, and shut the door.

"Joel-"

He held his finger to his lips before he made his way around the room, checking the furniture and closet for any possible hidden cameras or bugs. When he was satisfied, he finally spoke.

"Don't get comfortable. When they fall asleep, we're leavin'," he whispered.

"We can't leave her here," you said, sweeping your arm towards the door.

"I know," he said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "They'll sell her off again the first chance they get."

"Wait, what?" you asked, eyes wide. "I thought someone snatched her?"

"I really fuckin' doubt it," Joel said, running his fingers through his hair. "When we were in the basement, that asshole was tryin' to convince me to sell you to slavers. Said if I don't do it, somebody'll take and sell you anyway. Sounded awful lot like a threat, if you ask me."

"Jesus Christ, Joel!" you whispered, wrapping your arms around your ribs and pacing nervously around the room. "So you think they sold Ellie into slavery? Their own niece?"

"Wouldn't put it past 'em. You should see the shit he's got in that basement. Must've cost a fortune. I'm sure Ellie wasn't the only one they sold off."

It started to make sense. The way June spoke to and treated Ellie like she was a servant didn't leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.

"But they seemed so happy to see her," you said, thinking back.

"Yeah, probably saw her as another paycheck. Two for one," Joel said with a scoff.

"So what's the plan?" you asked him, biting on your fingernail anxiously.

"Give it an hour or so," he began, sitting down on the bed. "Make sure they're passed out. Then, you go get the kid, and I'll go to the basement. I gotta figure out how to turn off the motion alerts on those cameras so they don't wake up. Then we get the fuck outta here."

"Okay," you said quietly, sitting down next to him, stunned. Twenty minutes ago, you just thought they were bad guardians. You had no idea it was this bad. You buried your face in your hands, feeling guilty for bringing Ellie back into this house. You should have fought harder to get her to stay in Jackson. Now, you all ended up in danger, anyway.

"We have to try to warn Tommy and Maria," you whispered. "What if something happens? It'll take us a week to get home."

"Maybe not," Joel replied. "I saw on his cameras that they got a truck in that barn."

Joel stuck his head out into the hallway, craning his neck to listen for any movement from the master bedroom. After a few minutes of silence, he looked back at you and nodded. Quietly, you followed him down the hall, pausing outside of Ellie's room. Before you could open the door, Joel put his hand over yours. He cupped your face and quickly pressed a kiss against your lips, then pulled back to look deep into your eyes while his thumb caressed your cheek.

I'll get us out of here, I'll keep us safe.

You nodded, understanding without him having to say a word. He dropped his hand and made his way down the hall to the basement door, clicking on his flashlight before descending the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed the bedroom door open. You took care to close it gently behind you, then turned around to find Ellie fully dressed and waiting for you at the foot of her bed.

"Hey," you whispered, and she stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"I'm ready," she whispered back.

"How did you-"

"Joel told me," she said quietly. "He said to keep my bag packed, and not to fall asleep."

So he did whisper something in her ear when he hugged her.

"Okay, good," you breathed, trying to hide your nervousness.

"I packed all new clothes, and a few other things I wanted. Do you think I need anything else?"

"You have your flashlight?" you asked.

"Yep. And I got this," she said, proudly reaching into her pants pocket and pulling out a switchblade.

"Where did you get that?"

"Does it matter?" she replied.

"Just be careful with that thing, put it away," you told her. She folded it back up and shoved it into her jeans.

You poked your head out of her door, making sure the coast was clear before taking a step out. You made it two feet before Ellie's hand shot out and grabbed your arm, pulling you back into her room just in time. The master bedroom door swung open and June hobbled out in her nightgown, making her way groggily to the bathroom. You and Ellie stood with your ears pressed against the bedroom door, listening intently as the toilet flushed and the sink ran.

"Where's Joel?" Ellie mouthed.

You pointed down to the floor and mouthed back basement.

You waited until you heard her door click shut and the squeak of the boxspring before opening Ellie's door again. Silently, you made your way down the hall and to the dark kitchen, where you waited for Joel.

"What's he doing?" she said as softly as possible.

"Motion sensors," was all you said back. She shook her head.

"He won't know - I'll do it," she replied, and before you could stop her, she opened the door and made her way down the steps, turning her flashlight on in the process. You went after her as quickly and quietly as you could, knowing Joel wouldn't expect you to be down there.

You entered the bunker, taking a second to gawk at all the guns adorned on the walls. There was also an elaborate looking radio and a workbench filled with electrical parts. You passed five dressers that looked to be filled with different types of ammunition, and you thought you even saw a couple grenades.

"Joel," you whispered, and you heard him shuffle near the back of the room. You swung your flashlight towards the noise, your heart pounding in your ears. He stepped out from behind a tall shelf of canned goods, shaking his head and holstering his revolver.

"This wasn't the plan," he scolded with a deep frown, but before you could explain, Ellie pushed past you both and made her way to the little room in the back that housed all of the security system equipment.

"Ellie!" Joel whispered, going after her.

"I know what I'm doing," she said over her shoulder. He glanced back at you and you shrugged.

"There, the alarm is turned off and so is the recording," she said, emerging from the room. Joel gave her a confused look.

"Recording?" you repeated.

"Yeah, the cameras record everything. So they won't know what direction we go when they wake up tomorrow and try to review the footage," she explained, looking at you like it was obvious before heading to the stairs.

"Did you know-" you began to ask, but Joel cut you off.

"Hey, wait," he whispered, making Ellie stop on the bottom step. He unscrewed the cap of whiskey Dave had shared with him earlier and poured it all over the radio, watching as it sparked a bit. And for good measure, he cut the wire that powered the device before making his way toward the stairs, pushing past Ellie to lead you both out of the house.

Joel led you to the barn, maneuvering on the soft grass instead of the noisy gravel. There was a standard padlock on the door, which he was able to break relatively easily with his hunting knife. He was beginning to realize Ellie's aunt and uncle had all the appearances of being survivalists, but lacked most of the skills. He had lost count of the things he would have done differently if he was defending his own home.

Still, he didn't want to wake them when he was so close to safety. So, he put the truck in neutral and had Ellie steer from the driver's seat while the two of you pushed the car down the long driveway, waiting until it reached the road before making Ellie move to the back and starting it up.

He drove for a few hours until you were both struggling to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline that was previously fueling you both long since worn off.

"Let's pull off here, maybe we can find some gas before we head out in the mornin'," Joel said softly, trying not to wake Ellie.

"Okay," you said quietly, staring out the window as he got off the interstate. He drove for another half hour until he found a volunteer fire hall.

There were a few abandoned cars in the large lot when you pulled in. Joel parked the truck and turned to you.

"Lemme go in and check it out, you stay with the kid," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"I'll come with you," you said, but he held out his hand.

"Stay," he repeated firmly, and you shook your head.

"What if-"

"Just do as your told for once," he snapped. You clamped your mouth shut, too tired to argue. He was clearly annoyed that you improvised back at the house and brought Ellie in the basement.

"Fine," you seethed, and he slid out of the truck. You watched with your arms crossed as he approached the door, shining his flashlight inside the window before working on the lock and pushing his way in. You could see the beam of his flashlight through the windows as he moved from room to room, carefully checking out each one before finally coming back out to let you know it was clear.

"Ellie," you whispered, nudging her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up with a yawn, turning around to try to figure out where you were.

"We're gonna stay here for the rest of the night and try to get some sleep before hitting the road tomorrow," you explained as you hopped out of the truck.

She silently followed you into the building, where Joel was waiting, holding the door open. He led you both up the stairs where the firefighters had a small living space with bunk beds. Ellie snagged the first one she saw, curling up with the blanket that was already draped over the bed and falling back asleep.

"You good?" Joel asked, looking over as you flopped down on one of the beds.

"Yeah, are you?" you replied. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Long fuckin' day," he murmured.

"Why don't I keep watch tonight and you get some rest, I'll sleep in the car tomorrow," you told him. You could tell he wanted to argue with you but his exhaustion won.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed after a moment.

You stood back up, checking your gun before heading back downstairs. After you peeked out the windows to confirm everything was all quiet, you wandered around the first floor a bit. It looked like after the outbreak, the building may have acted as a safe zone. There were abandoned bags, cots, blankets, and trash overflowing in the bins.

You were looking through some duffel bags for anything useful when you heard a noise outside. You froze, quickly pulling your gun from the back of your jeans as you made your way cautiously out into the room. At first glance, your flashlight didn't show anything out of the ordinary. You were about to give up when you heard the same noise again. Whipping to your left, you advanced towards the sound with your gun drawn.

The last thing you remember is a hand gripping your throat from behind and a needle slipping into your neck.

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[ihaveforgortoomany]

Discussing Isolde's new garment "And all that Jazz" as an evolution of her original and insight 2 Outfits

Consider this a continuation of an earlier post with greater focus on the similarities of Isolde's new garment to her previous two and how they tie to her character development in Ch. 6 (this is global friendly)

(spoilers for just Chapter Six )

In short her new garment in 2.1 can be considered the development of her character post the events of Ch.6.

The outfit we met Isolde in, the white one, signifies Isolde's previous repression of herself, her outfit similar to Trista in the Small Room story. While this sprite was used to depict young Isolde primarily, we can say that this more resembles Trista and how Isolde especially in her younger years was haunted and tormented by Trista. Isolde's boss the Mezzo takes a similar appearance to her original outfit than the insight 2 Tosca one, here again Isolde is repressed and allows Trista to possess her during the fight.

(Side note: Trista probably is the most powerful Dittasdorf in terms of the family's arcane powers, plus the fact that she died during a seance at a young age, became this relentless spirit that even years beyond her death continues to torment Isolde and as seen with her boss fight possess her)

Moving onto her insight 2 outfit this signifies the release of the repression, the inner self as Isolde peforms Tosca, kills Mr Karl, jumpstarts WW1 months earlier and proceeds to kill both Heinrich and Hoffman. Unlike the outfit she no longer has a veil obscuring half her face, a much smaller one signifying that loss of repression of desires.

Ignoring the green highlights and feathers clearly alluding to Kakania, the upper "jacket of the outfits does appear to mimic Kakania's jacket/ blazer or the ruffle on Isolde's first outfit, the overall sliver colour of the "And all that Jazz" garment calls back to her original outfit in being a darker shade, no longer is Isolde tied down by societal expectation of Vienna and acts freely (within the limitations of the Foundation ofc).

Both the low cut in her dress and the headpiece both reference to her insight 2 outfit, alongside her new voicelines signifies further this freedom from previous repression that Kakania (regardless of how much it did backfire) gave her. Yet despite this freedom was remains alone.

Additional note: in this new garment the knife is replaced with a cane that features very prominently. The cane has been historically seen as a overt status symbol of wealth and power, in comparison to a knife that would be easily concealed. We can speculate how Isolde in her younger years in the Small Room was thought to be meek and not stand out by Mr Karl, who eventually dies by Isolde's hand by a knife, no longer repressing any part of herself. What is noticable is that both Mr Karl and Isolde in her new garment dominantly hold the cane in their left (looks on the right to us and Mr Karl's is largely covered below) . We can speculate Isolde now possessing a cane reflects her increased power no longer under the repression of others (noteable ones being Mr Karl and Trista) instead able to act on their own, yet still cling to Kakania at the same time.

(Idk if it is the same cane Isolde is using as Mr Karl as I can't find a full spite of him but it would be interesting if it was, signifying her own triumph over the man who tormented her over the years to take his symbol of power)

Even her posture/ default stance is different: the previous outfits have a more reserved posture aiming to make herself the smallest in the room (does this count as a pun) whereas her new garment has her in a more confident and powerful pose, more open and empathises the cane again.

Summary - it is fascinating how her new garment doesn't seem like just an Opera Singer turned Jazz singer, instead a progression of her character following the events of Vienna as someone who while has escaped the torment and societal pressure is not truly free of that pain and trauma, but nevertheless no longer represses herself in the same way as before.

[velvet-paradox]

Stay (ch. 3)

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Viking!König x Female reader Length: Warnings: some strong language.

Realization - The answer - A lesson in training - A birth - Fitting in

The scream that left your throat left you hoarse, as if you'd been calling for your animals back home all day. It was early enough yet after dinner that boots could be heard coming down the hallway towards your room, towards your screaming anguish. Krueger was first through the door, followed by Soap, begging the head of the KorTac clan what in the Gods names was going on back here.

The words you wanted to say came tumbling out like a pile of rocks, spitty, messy, garbled beyond coherent hearing.

Finally a "YOU'RE LYING!" made its was through the blubbering mess of your voice.

"Oh König, you didn't have have family killed did you?"

"Nein!"

"Why is it when I always find her, she is always crying?"

They talked above you as you knelt, crumpling to the floor on your knees and wept. You sounded just like your mother had when The Collector took you for leverage. You covered the back of your head with your hands, trying to breathe, trying to think.

It was no use.

You suddenly felt their hands on you, coaxing you up to at least sit or lay on the bed, or as it were now your bed. You let your body go limp, wanting nothing more than to crush into sand. You curled up and held your head, sobbing terribly. Your eyes hurt, your head pounded, your heart and mind raced.

"Guess you did find yourself a little wife, eh Collector." Soap chided as the three men took their leave.

"Not now, Soap."

….

You cried yourself to sleep. What else could you do? Your father had offered you up for future payment. The bracelet on your arm brought you only a sliver of comfort, not the warm embrace of your mother.

You had stayed up long, late nights dreaming of the day when she would pass it down to you. Who was worthy enough to call you their wife? Who would watch over and protect you from anything slight out of line. What would your dress look like, who would do your hair? Who would be the one to bind your hand together with your new husband?

All those scenarios flew away.

You were now bound to the boogeyman, without your consent. Stuck in this prison. As you rose, sitting up in your bed, your face stained and crusty, you noticed there was a scroll next to your pillow. That was not there before. It was tied neatly with a lock of your mothers' hair.

You fingered over it as you read the letter.

How sorry they were to have to do this, how times had only gotten harsher back home to keep food on the table now that you were gone. Your father was catching just enough fish for the both of them and sometimes only your mother was eating breakfast. The winter months were creeping and they just couldn't afford what was needed and knowing that you would be taken care of, a place to sleep, eat and live was their only concern.

It made you cry even more when you noticed how your mother had signed it.

It was splotched in a few places as if… your mother had been crying while writing.

You cleaved it to your chest and cried yourself back to sleep.

….

You didn't eat with the rest of the clan that night, instead you waited until the music stopped, the bustling dinner and ruckus had died down. Just to see, you pulled on your door.

It was unlatched.

Your eyebrows almost met as you yanked it the rest of the open, lit torches illuminated the dark hallway. The great hall was empty, the tables and chairs were clean, König's throne was empty and gave off the element of intimidation. It was huge, even if he wasn't sat in it.

You looked around the dining hall before climbing up the cold wooden steps, your mother's lock of hair still in your palm and sat down. You felt tiny.

This place would become your home. It wasn't a bad village, it was far bigger than your own, bustling with little shops and wares.

You touched your bracelet and started to well up again.

"Enjoying yourself, wee lass?" Soap peeked around the corner, hoping with your fingers crossed that he wouldn't tattle on you. You hopped up instantly.

"You won't tell him will you?" You meekly asked.

Soap adjusted his leather shirt before going towards the front double doors, hanging around just a bit. He looked over his shoulder at you with a smirk. "Tell who what? Good night, pet."

Your shoulders relaxed and you wandered about the hall, touching the wooden walls, jumping out of the way of a stray cat who was more startled then you were. You found the kitchen cellar eventually, at least there was a loaf of bread left out and some scraps of meat that reminded you of your first night here.

You made it to the back door and creaked it open, the moonlight shining over the tops of your neighbors homes, little fire bugs danced and dallied about the air. You tore off another piece of bread, watching the twinkling stars above, the Gods were out and shining.

"Beautiful night." The Collector scared you as he suddenly walked by, arms behind his back and shirtless. He looked tired, even though you could only see his eyes as he moved closer and leaned against the door. "You were missed at dinner this evening."

You snorted. "By who? No one cares."

"I care."

"Why? Is this a game to you? I'm left here, this isn't my village, these aren't my people. You're a cruel man, with a cruel title. Everyone fears you," you shook your head at his arrogance. "Do you know the children in my village are warned about you, that if their are naughty you will come and snatch them in the night, steal them from their parents. And now… they'll know the sick truth that I too am susceptible to such a fate."

König sighed and pushed off the door, towering over you, making you move out of his way.

"I'll tell you this, pet. I shall let you sulk and whine and moan about your situation but after tonight, you sneaking around to eat stale bread and cheese, get used to it. Your parents are better off."

"How dare you! How can you say that?"

"Because it's true. They can barely get by themselves and you're just another mouth to feed. Here your will be warm for winter, you will participate in village duties, you will pull your own weight. You earn your keep here," König hummed and patted your head, assuming you like the pet that you were. "I know you are strong willed and you'll fit in just fine. "You'll also need some training."

"In what?"

"In combat. I'll collect you at dawn; get some rest, pet."

….

He was indeed quite serious about the timing, banging open your door, rousing you like a trained solider at camp, ready to lay waste to the enemy. Frantically dressing, tying your boots off at the front doors of the hall, scrambling behind the big, bad man in the early hours. Not even the shopkeepers were awake, only the bakers.

You weren't tethered to him this morning though.

You tramped over bushes, a well traveled path behind the great hall and out in mornings first light. The sun was gentle, the mist and fog light, the grass still damp.

You wondered about the man before you, was this the plan all along? Did he plan on taking you before changing pay day? He certainly had something in mind because why did he pick on your family first? He barely gave you a glance beforehand. Always snatching and counting coins at your dinner table, grunting if it was enough and then leaving like a phantom.

You soon came into a clearing, there were tree trunk rounds with arrows struck into them at varying angles, tree stumps for exercise and balance training, hanging cloth dolls with previous practice.

You started simple.

He wanted to see your aim. The Collector had handed you a blade that surely had been used for either threats or promises, it was warm and heavy in your hand. He pointed to one of the logs and watched as you hefted it up and threw. He clicked his teeth.

Not impressed.

You did that for quite awhile before moving on to core and balance, standing on one leg one of the tree stumps. He'd poke and prod at your standing leg to keep you on edge, make you think, make you better. You wobbled again and König spanked your ass, making you jolt a little more before righting yourself to the other foot.

"May I ask you something?" You asked, eyes trained on the now swaying stuffed body when the wind picked up.

"I suppose I can entertain you for a moment."

"Soap had mentioned something about your last ransom captive. Told me I should stay on your good side."

"Ah, good man with even better advice."

"Can I ask what happened?" You switched feet again, now with your arms out at your sides.

"Is that not what you are doing right now, pet? Would you prefer the long or short version?"

"Whatever you prefer. I'm curious."

"Hmmm, one should be. I held her captive for the summer months, she tried and failed to escape more than once; hence why I keep you close by and within eyesight like a babe." He pushed your standing leg once more, a satisfied hum when you didn't falter. "I found out she had convinced and seduced one of my own, a itraitor. Naturally, you being from here, you understand what the price is don't you?" "Blood eagle." You half whispered, the sickening image of what you'd known flashed behind your eyes.

"My pet is very smart, good job. So I tied her up, took them both in the night and in front of everyone, the entirety of KorTac itself, held her to my chest and made her watch us blood eagle him. Her screams seemed to last forever. After he was dead and his lungs pulled out, I took my blade and slit her throat. Burned them both afterwards." König gave a light shrug and stood in front of you.

"So yes, Soap was right to tell you not to fuck with me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

….

"Again!"

"But it's so heavy."

"It's a fuckin a boulder, it's meant to be. Now pick it up and flip it again. If you're going to be a shieldmaiden you need to be trained, ready." König sighed heavily, even though autumn was on its way, he'd taken off his furs and shirt, scarred skin and taut muscles glinting in the sunrise.

"I'm good with a bow. Isn't that enough?"

"No! Not when I know you're highly capable of being better than just good with a bow. Also, as those are your only pants, bring them to Gaz tomorrow and get a second pair, leather. He'll know what to do and some boots too, those are plenty worn in."

"How will I pay for them?" You asked, out of breath. He was blunt but not murderous to you. You had taken Soap's healthy advice and kept quiet, only answering when spoken to. You were untied and had been able to venture though KorTac's great alone unaccompanied, even though you felt eyes on you at all times.

"Hmph. Just get them."

"On my own?"

"Do you wish for me to escort you myself? As if I am not the clan leader and not busy! Can you be trusted with such a task?" König grabbed another boulder, only slightly smaller from the pile behind you and dropped it at your feet.

"Sorry."

"Ask Keeva to assist you if you want. I can trust you won't run away, ja?"

"I won't."

"Good. Keep going, gotta' build you up some." The Collector shouted words of encouragement that left even your bones sore.

"Thanks for coming with me." Your legs ached and begged for respite as you walked down the lane, a very pregnant Keeva beside you, a basket of mending on her own hip. You took a dip in the bucket in your room, full of fresh cold water before changing into the dress the women of KorTac had laid out for you.

"I'm happy to! I very much enjoy your company and now that you're staying, I'm sure we will be fast friends. And I should get out of the house, Price is making me mad. Any day now for this baby to come out, I feel like I'm going to pop!"

"How do you know I'm staying with KorTac?"

"Simple. You're getting things mended without payment, Gaz does excellent work and charges those foreign to him but now he'll have you fixed up just right. Plus, Price overheard The Collector talking with Soap last night in the hall. Walls aren't very thick if you know what I mean."

"Oh. Yeah, he took me out training this morning. He's intense." You said and rolled your shoulders, still achy from flipping that damn boulder.

"He has to be, love. He's the leader, his need to showcase his work is smart. If he can express that you are now a willing party to KorTac, he will be seen quite strong. Ah, here we are."

Gaz's mending shop was larger than to be expected. You thought maybe he did this out of his own home but this stall, made of beautifully carved wood and leather was stunning. He was tanning hides in the back when you two strolled in, a confused nod to as if he didn't think had lasted this long here. He sized up your pants, had you sit and took measure of you boots as well while Keeva looked through the freshly dyed linens he'd hung, holding her belly and talking to it.

Keeva took to you quickly, muttering about Price, her husband. How eager he was to have another babe with his pretty little wife. It sounded nice. A love match. Not like the one you were so quickly thrown into. The smell of burning leaves hit you quick and you thought you might've stepped into a snake hole of some sort, only to feel the pinch of Keeva's nails on your looped forearm.

"Are you alright?"

The look in her eyes was sheer terror as she hiked up her dress and flow of fluid splashed out to the ground below. "Oh no. It's happening. oh pet, we are too far from home, from the hall. I won't make it. Ow!"

"Um, come, let's get back to Gaz's shop, he'll have furs and cloth for you to rest on rather plop out a baby in the street."

"Don't make me laugh!" Keeva covered her mouth and waddled back to the shop with you.

"Okay um, lay her down gently, I need to check you."

"No offense, Gaz but I'd rather have Y/N do it."

"Right. Apologies. Uh have you ever done anything like this before?"

"With sheep!" You said with a shrug when Keeva screamed through clenched teeth. You got on your knees and did what you were taught, what to look for, signs of dilation, where the baby was turned. Keeva looked incredibly small down on the ground of the shop, Gaz had run to close the shudders at lightning speed for everyone's dignity.

"Oh Gods help me!"

"Is it alright if I--"

"Just do it! Oh Price, I am so sorry my love…"

"Is this your first?" You asked as you hefted up her skirt a little more.

"This is our third. Oh!"

"Hold her hand for me will you, Gaz. You're gonna' feel some pressure and… oh, well, it's coming. Can you push for me?"

"Don't really have a choice. OH GODS!"

….

You were certainly having quite the day.

First light training with The Collector, getting into town for new items that you didn't have to pay for because, as it were, news travels fast here. Helping deliver not one, but two newborns when you had no idea what you were doing. You can't just pull out a baby like you can a cosset. There's timing and finesse and thankfully everyone is doing just fine.

The look on Keeva's face when you told her to push again was bamboozled.

Gaz and packed and stuffed a sturdy wheelbarrow with fur and linen, had wrapped up her newborns in the softest of materials he had as they wailed, being welcomed into the world. You held the babies as Gaz helped Keeva lay back onto it, smiling exhaustedly, as you handed her her babes. She thanked you over and over again, even as you hefted the wheelbarrow up and slowly and with the utmost care, walked the now four of you home.

A group of teasing kids met you as drew closer, your limbs on fucking fire but safety is key and first. You've got a brand new mother to look after! A blood eagle was the last thing on your mind, there was absolutely no way you'd strand your newfound friend in any type of need or aide.

"Price! Father! Their back! Come see, come look!" The children shouted, bouncing and running and eventually cooing as the noticed the little bundles in Keeva's arms.

Price, in all bearded glory practically kicked open the front door to their homestead, curious and eventually ran over to you as you settled the contraption down, hunched over and just about ready to pass out.

"You… how… two babes?! Twins!" Price was overjoyed, tears flowing sweetly down his cheeks. The rest of the village had come to see all the commotion as well. He patted you on the back after helping his wife into the house.

When everything had settled down you looked up towards the great hall to see König standing in the archway, arms crossed, still shirtless and gave you a head nod of approval.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.14

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Ch. Notes: Angst, action, gun violence, character death

Summary: Things quickly escalate as Fisk tries to end the struggle for power once abd for all.

An: ... So it's been a minute. Sorry about that and frankly idk when the next update will be, hopefully sooner. However, whatever you thinks going to happen here, I don't think you'll see this coming.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wilson Fisk didn’t often smile. He was a sad and angry man that did his best to keep a neutral scowl on his face. What was there to smile about when he had lost everything. His wife, his daughter, his freedom, all irreplaceable. Being in prison while his wife and daughter were being buried is an ache that will never truly get over.

The void inside of him can only be filled by power and control. He will have the city and he will claim it for all that he has lost. He knew that to be a irrefutable fact.

Now, his smile was something straight out of a nightmare. It sat lopsided on his round face. It was there and it was horrifying. His smile only widens as he heard hushed voice over his phone.

When the line goes dead, he claps his hands together. He leans back in his desk chair. The smile doesn’t leave his features.

“Sleeping beauty has opened his eyes.”

Plans change at a wits notice, and things pivot, but goals could still be accomplished. Fisk wants Dragos gone and like a shark surrounding an injured surfer he smells blood in the water. It is time for him to strike.

Bowling was the activity that you came up with. Something in a place full of people, something that you enjoyed much in your youth, something that Pietro was unequivocally skilled at.

“Another strike ladies are you even trying?” Pietro gloats after looking at the scoreboard.

You might’ve been putting in a decent amount of effort, Wanda as well, but the two of you could tell Natasha was handing the man the win.

“Natasha, maybe take him down a peg,” you whisper in her ear.

“I thought we were supposed to be cheering him up, lisichka,” she taunts you with a smile.

“He can be happy without his ego being stroked,” Wanda puffs out in annoyance.

Natasha laughs at their bitterness, but nonetheless when it was her turn she quickly bowled a strike.

“Let’s go Natty,” you clap for her and Wanda let’s out a whistle.

“Is this where I realize you've been letting me win all night,” Pietro pouts.

Nat plops her hand on his shoulder, “I’m afraid so."

You all share a laugh and for moment everything feels normal. You could almost forget your ties and affiliations and feel like normal people. The moments were becoming more present in your life to the domestic nature of your relationship with Wanda and Natasha.

By now you should’ve known that sitting in any of those feelings did you no good.

When your phone rings you answer it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Y/n you will get through this. Do not let this be the end of what we’ve worked for, you don’t- you don’t need me malysh.”

“Papa? You’re awake, what are you you-”

“Y/N! Listen please, just take care of our family. I called you because, I trust you.”

As he speaks on the phone you gather Wanda, Pietro, and Natasha urgently. You have to go, it’s urgent. They can tell you’re shaken and when you put the phone on speaker they understand.

“Papa I don’t understand,” your voice trembles as you speak.

“Tell Flora, that my love with her doesn’t end with my last breath. Tell my Pietro that he’s the heart of all of this. Tell Wanda that all I want from her is for her to be happy.”

Natasha is the one that ushers you all into the car as you begin to shut down slightly.

“You can’t do this to us again papa,” your voice cracks in the end.

“It’s out of my hands,” you can hear fear in his voice and it terrifies you.

You hear a dark chuckle in the background of the call, “He’s right you know, it’s not in his hands.”

The smile in Fisk’s voice is present and it scares you, but you bluff the man.

“Haven’t you already made this play before, and it didn't work out for you did it?”

“Only because you interfered, and I got you back pretty significantly for that didn't I, sweetheart?”

Your jaw clenches, “Fisk , take a moment to think, really think what you're about to do. We are already enemies, in competition for control of the city, but that’s just business. Every move you’ve made recently has been personal. Going to war over turf it’s respectable, but if we go to war over family, there’s only one way this ends.”

“This is why I enjoy you so much kid, you have such an intelligent mind. Even under pressure you string together the right words. However, you’ve got it all wrong. There’s always only been one way this is going to end,” you hear the sound of the gun clicking.

“We will leave the city, just don't shoot him,” Pietro finds his voice.

You, Wanda, and Natasha look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I didn't know we had guests on the phone with us, what a surprise. Keep talking little Maximoff, I like what you're offering.”

Pietro begins spewing nonsense, “We will disappear from New York and never come back. We will cut all ties with city and anything in it. It will be yours for the taking. Please, just don’t shoot him.”

“Anyone else want to beg for his life?”

Wanda’s mouth opens and closes a few times as her eyes water. You take the initiative instead.

“Wilson, you lost your family. Your wife and daughter were taken from you. Good people caught in the crossfire of your criminal actions. Who helped you get back on your feet after you got out of jail ? Who kept a corner of New York for you? Who gave you a jump start on your way back to this lifestyle? Who was there for you? The history between the two of you isn’t as convoluted as you’re making it out to be.”

Kingpin takes a pause, “That’s in the past.”

“It’s only history because you are making it that way. We have made a good relationship between our businesses until recently,” you keep him on the phone.

Natasha’s only about 5 minutes from the hospital, you just need to stall a bit longer.

“I’m not a beggar or a dog, Y/Ln. I don’t take scraps,” he says in a menacing tone.

You pause when he says your last name. It’s not something you hear regularly, you don’t ever use it. How’d he know about it?

“Quiet now Y/Ln, surprised I know that name? That’s not the only thing I know about you sweetheart. I know something that the Maximoff’s have been hiding from you, something that might sway your loyalty."

You look at Wanda and Pietro who were already on edge, but worse than that, they avoid your gaze.

“This is my family, my loyalty won’t ever change,” you speak strongly.

He chuckles, “Not even when I tell you they killed your mother.”

“What?”

“They killed your mother. Ever wonder, why she didn’t come after you, why she didn’t bombard or harass you after you left? She was dead within a week. Your father was debriefed, and relocated shortly after your graduation. These people sweetheart, before your family, they’re the mob.”

You’re in front of the hospital now, but you don’t move to exit the car. It feels like something has pierced through your heart.

You want to say something to combat him, to say it doesn’t matter, but you couldn’t say that earnestly.

You push your feelings aside for a second, “We’ve both lost a lot, Fisk. Things that we can’t get back. Things that fuel us to want more than what the world has offered us.”

“We’re alike in that way sweetheart, robbed of a happy ending. Forced to create our own,” he’s trying to flip you but you aren't buying it.

“Losing another parental figure in my life isn't a happy ending for me,” you grit your teeth.

Natasha pulls you out of the car and starts giving hand signal directions.

“I sympathize with you, Y/n. You’re not one of them, you never were. I’ll tell you what, the Maximoff’s leave, but you stay and work for me. That’s my offer.”

“We aren't leaving without Y/n,” Wanda finds her words for the first time in the conversation.

“It’s either that or I put a bullet in his head. You’ve got 15 minutes to think it over, when I call back you better have an answer,” he hangs up.

“Y/n,” Pietro starts, but you don't look at him.

“We’ve got 15 minutes to save Dragos, that's what I'm focused on,” you dismiss his attempt at an explanation.

Natasha begins laying out a plan, “ We don’t know who in this building reports to Fisk, so we have to be careful if we go in. Dragos is supposed to have security at his door, I don't think the guards there would be ours if Fisk is in the room.”

“We need a deliberate distraction,” you open the car door and reach into your bag.

You bring out your laptop and hook your phone to it. You knew what room Dragos was in with Fisk’s call you should be able to ping how many devices were around him.

“3 guards, outside the rooms. These are the phone numbers, names, home addresses, close family,” you memorize the information.

You see a group walking into the hospital and figure its your best chance to blend in, “We’ve got to go now.”

Wanda and Natasha hold frustration about the way you’re moving, but they follow you nonetheless.

“We don’t have a plan for this,” Wanda argues.

“Blend in get to the floor they’re on and then I’ll handle the guards. Once they’re dealt with Natasha will go in and disarm Fisk,” you say straying from the group you walked in with to another group heading for the elevator.

Once you're in the elevator you speak to Natasha, “Send people to these addresses make sure they get pictures, the quickest means please.”

When you step off the elevator you spot the guards. You send them individual text messages, with their names addresses and a threat to their loved ones by name.

You see 2 of 3 panic while the other one believes it’s a bluff. Natasha sends the pictures of their homes to you, and you forward them to the guards.

You see them pale instantly, the look at each other and bicker lightly. Wanda wants to go forward and strike, but you shake your head. You wait as one of the guards takes off running from the room. The other follows not even a second after. The third looks at his phone and then in the direction the others had ran before doing the same as they did.

“Natasha, we’ll be on the other side of the door one steady knock when he’s disarmed so we can get in,” you instruct her.

She doesn’t hesitate to nod at your orders. Before she goes Wanda squeezes her hand in a pleading manner, but Natasha reassures her with a soft look.

You wait with baited breath when Natasha enters the room. For a moment it’s silent, no struggle can be heard, but then there’s a gunshot.

Wanda’s the first one rushing to the room door, with Pietro and yourself directly behind her. Her hand is on the handle as she attempts to yank the door open. You move her out of the way, and open it first.

Instead of a cool metal, you feel a searing hot metal burning your chest.

“Why don’t you all file in, so we can talk,” Kingpin rests the gun on your chest and you shuffle into the room, eyes shooting across to where Natasha grips her bloody arm.

Wanda and Pietro shuffle in, the red head immediately going to her wife’s side.

“Isn’t this a lovely little family affair?”

“Wilson, take the gun off of her. Your problem is with me, my family, they’ve done nothing wrong,” Dragos tries to reason with the man.

He digs the butt of the recently fired gun further into your chest and you grit your teeth, but refuse to break eye contact with the bald man.

“She is your strongest solider Dragos, she can take it. Y/n’s not even your blood, she’s your orphan project and you’ve raised her better than your incompetent children. She’s quick witted, brilliant, useful. I want her on my side,” Fisk eyes you with a shark like grin on his face.

“You’re out numbered,” Pietro reminds the man as he stands tall in room.

Fisk scoffs, “ Bed ridden patient, shot Russian, and girl with her gun to her chest. You and your sister aren’t enough to stop me, you could barely even run the business when I took your father out. None of the Maximoff’s have been running anything as of late. It’s all been Y/n, even before Wanda came back. She’s been the brains of this whole operation for a while now.”

“If you feel that way, then why would you go after Dragos first and not me?”

Fisk chuckles, “This information isn't something I've always known. I only had this epiphany a small time before I had an example made out of you.”

“I’ll never work for you,” you stand your ground.

“Then I’ll drop you where you stand and then I'll kill everyone in this room and own this cit-”

The gun was in your hand before he finished the sentence. You place it under his chin before cocking it back.

“Do it, kill me then sweetheart. This wouldn’t be your first time killing someone who just wanted to help you right? Poor little Lucas, didn’t even get the chance to grow up.”

You pull the trigger and instantly your face is covered in the mans blood. No one in the room saw it coming. You were usually better at not acting irrationally, but this time you had met your limit.

The gun drops from your hand and you rush out of the hospital without a single clue to where you were going.

“Go, someone go after her,” Dragos yells at his children and soon Wanda is on her feet.

“I will take care of it go,” Natasha reassures her.

Wanda’s eyes linger on her wife’s injured arm, “Wanda now.”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 2 ~ LATE NIGHT TEARS

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: excuse another set up chapter, shit will start going down very very soon

chapter warnings: mentions of death/death threats, sad vibes ngl

chapter word count: 2.6k

After Chan agrees, things progress surprisingly fast. Although he sends Chan a warning look, Minho doesn’t object, and Seungmin looks at you coolly, as if he hasn’t quite put his confidence in you but doesn’t object to sharing a space with you, either. Felix just looks happy. You get the sense that he trusts you just because you haven’t given him a reason otherwise.

If any of them take notice of your row of kitchen knives, they say nothing.

They decide among themselves who is going where. In the end, Felix and Seungmin stay back with you while Chan and Minho go to fetch the others. You talk a little with them, finding out that Felix owned a cafe and Seungmin was doing a masters in law. The blonde happily chatters with you, informing you further that Chan was a lifeguard and Minho a dance teacher and sometimes part of a troupe, as well the lives of the others, while Seungmin stares out the window as it begins to rain, occasionally chipping in.

It’s altogether far too easy to talk with Felix. There’s something about him that’s warm, something about the simple way he trusts you that makes him all the more trustworthy - he puts you at ease in an instant, his low voice comforting and familiar. The way he tells you about his friends makes you like them before you’ve even met them.

By the time they get back, it’s nightfall. They’re soaked, droplets of water sliding from their hair and onto the linoleum floor in tiny rivulets, starting in tributaries at the hems of their shirts and turning into not so small waterfalls - you notice they’re all shivering slightly, the tips of their noses and their cheeks flushed scarlet. Pulling off his mask, Chan runs his fingers through his hair and slicks it back, dropping a stuffed backpack on the floor beside him, careful to avoid the quickly growing lake around his feet.

There’s the four you haven’t met yet gathered in a small huddle behind him. The handsome, tall guy must be who Felix described as Hyunjin - the artist who models on the side. He shakes the rain off him, droplets flicking from the ends of his messily tied black hair onto the younger man beside him. To their left, a shorter man laden with muscle removes his mask, revealing a cheery smile that makes his evident strength a little less intimidating.

Your eyebrows raise as Minho slaps the butt of the last of the new arrivals. You stay quiet.

Felix and Seungmin go to greet the others, and you remain sitting where you are, giving them some privacy. They speak quietly, though occasionally a bright laugh rings out, and you’re struck by how familiar they are with each other - Felix told you that they were lucky they were all together when the first horseman came, but you find it hard to believe they wouldn’t have found each other one way or another if they hadn’t been.

You catch flashes of damp skin and ivory grins as they wring out their clothes. Curious glances get sent your way until Chan peels off and sits beside you; you’re positive that nothing could hide the affection in his smile as he looks over at them.

“It’s a lot when you first see all of us together, huh?” he says, his voice confiding and bemused.

“A little,” you confirm. “But it’s nice, really. It’s good to hear laughter.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I can’t count how many times they’ve saved me. They’re family.”

You’re startled by Chan’s easy confession, enough so that all you can do is stare at him in shock, surprised to find that he looks relaxed, his eyes far away and his hair sticking out at all angles from where he’s rubbed it dry. Your brain takes that particular moment to note that he’s got a soft, inviting mouth - it compliments the sharpness of his nose well. Unfortunately, neither of those things is something you could respond with.

When the muscular one approaches, the other three behind him, you’re still scrambling for a reply. Eventually, your mouth, which had been previously hanging open like a trapdoor in effort to make a sound in answer to Chan, snaps shut and you send them a pleasant smile as they assemble awkwardly in front of you. Over their shoulders you can see Minho attacking the bags they brought with them, unpacking them with organised ferocity.

“I’m Hyunjin,” the artist-model announces, as you predicted. “Nice to meet you.”

“Jisung,” the one whose butt Minho slapped says. You notice his hair is slightly shaggy, curling around his reddened ears and at the nape of his neck, and he regards you with a neutral expression, as if he hasn’t formed his opinion on you yet.

“I’m Jeongin,” the youngest adds, and unsurprisingly, you can see the suspicion thinly veiled in his eyes.

Your gaze slides to the last one to introduce himself, the muscular one. According to Felix, he must be Changbin, who was in the army. The moment your eyes lock on his, a distant memory surfaces of you and a boy in the school library, hiding from the stern librarian and trying to stay quiet despite his infectious laughter. You almost don’t recognise him - not just because he’s gotten rid of that ridiculous bowl cut he had when you were thirteen, but because his frame has filled out with muscle.

God, it suits him.

You search his face for a flicker of recognition, for anything, but you find nothing. Unexpected disappointment slices through you - he doesn’t know you, either because he’s forgotten you or because he doesn’t care. Either way, you guess it doesn’t really matter who you were friends with when you were kids. It still hurts, anyways.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say once Changbin has introduced himself, trying to keep your voice bright and your eyes off him.

Though the lab is your space, you feel like an intruder as they talk among themselves. Even Felix has forsaken you, moving across the room to prod at Changbin’s arms as he pesters him about something or other, twin smiles brightening their faces.

You feel lost. You can’t help but question Chan’s motives again - you don’t belong with these men, nor does your presence benefit them in any way, and yet they still smile, unflappable despite the distrust you see in some of their gazes. It’s clear to you that Chan himself doesn’t trust you fully, either, but he seems to like you well enough.

The same can’t be said for Minho, though. Jisung is talking to him but you can feel his gaze pinning you down, watching you in a way that makes you want to sink into the ground below your feet.

There’s a warning in the sharpness of his glare: you hurt them, you die.

The more time you spend with them, the more you realise how tightly knit they are. They work as a unit to distribute the food for dinner (you receive a can of beans, cold, of course, and a stale granola bar) and to count up and evaluate the supplies they have left, with your additions from the convenience store; they pair up to share blankets when they decide it’s time to sleep while you get one all to yourself; and now that they’re all quiet, you’re half certain they’re breathing in sync, too.

It’s not even weird. You can tell that this harmony is what has helped them survive for so long, not only physically, but mentally too. Together they are self-sustaining, confiding in each other, falling into their separate roles without having to be asked: you get the sense that even the sleeping arrangements are non verbally premeditated, down to the Hello Kitty blanket Changbin and Felix are sharing.

They fit together like puzzle pieces. You’re not sure if there’s space for you.

If that concerns him, Chan doesn’t let it show. He beckoned you over to sleep beside him, which unfortunately meant that you also ended up next to Minho. That in itself seems like a precaution. You have no doubt that he’d happily incapacitate you before you could even start thinking about doing any funny business, if you read the look he gave you as he shuffled a little closer to Jisung well enough.

Thankfully, Chan’s half pointed towards Jeongin, enough so that he doesn’t have to stare at you as he falls asleep. After a while of staring vacantly at the spot just over his shoulder, you realise how pleasant it is to lie on and under blankets after over a week of slouching on the hard floor; they’re soft, and the one beneath you is slightly warm from Minho, which would be disconcerting if it didn’t feel so fucking nice.

Despite the knowledge that you’re in a room with eight other steadily, defiantly beating hearts, that you’re not the only living person left in the whole world, you find that your eyelids won’t droop closed.

Sighing heavily, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You’re reminded of the school trips you went on when you were younger, where you’d listen to everyone else’s breathing slow as they fell asleep, still up and wriggling about in your sleeping bag like a caterpillar ready to hatch.

At least back then, there wasn’t the looming possibility that you were the only person awake on the whole planet.

Careful not to hit either of the boys beside you, you squirm, shifting around in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. You’re just about to turn over again when you hear the blankets rustle, the sound of someone to your left getting to their feet and padding out of the lab interrupting the soft sound of the others’ breathing.

Instinctively, you shut your eyes, pretending to sleep. Your fingers tighten where they’re clenched in the blankets. You wait, counting fifty of Chan’s breaths before you get up and follow.

You’re entirely unsure of what you’ll find. You don’t bring a knife - you didn’t hear whoever left pause to take one, and if worst comes to worst, you have the taekwondo classes you took with Changbin, way back when.

Quietly, you ease open the door, stepping out into the corridor. You check the little kitchenette first, which is empty. Your boss’s office is the next closest, but you notice the communal room’s door is ajar, different from how you last left it - you’d been hoping closing it off would shut out the memories of the first horseman and his rictus grin.

Pushing it open, you realise with a jolt that whoever is within is crying: the only illumination within the small room is a splash of red tinted moonlight, but your eyes are adjusted enough that you can see the way he’s hunched over on the sofa, sniffling a little as sobs shake his shoulders. From the longish black hair, you’d guess it’s Hyunjin.

You know you should leave and give him privacy, but the night gives you bravery, as if the inability to see makes your lingering embarrassment exist a little less.

“Hey,” you say softly, coming round to sit beside him on the sofa.

Hyunjin tugs his sleeves over his hands so he can wipe his tears away. “Sorry, I must have woken you up.”

“Don’t worry, I was up already.”

You find that now you’ve bitten the bullet and decided to talk to him, no words reveal themselves to you. Telling him ‘it’s okay’ would be a blatant lie, and asking him if he’s alright would almost be worse; you can’t think of any better options, and frankly, you’ve always been a bit clumsy with your words.

Instead, you awkwardly hold your arms out. “Is it okay if I, uh - ”

Scrubbing at his eyes, he nods, his arms already wrapping tight around you before you can reach out for a cautious hug. Closing your eyes and resting your chin on his hair as he cries, you rub gentle circles on his back, holding him a little tighter when little sobs slip out from deep within his chest. You feel tears prick at your own eyes. There’s no guessing what aggrieves him, although with the current condition of the world he doesn’t really need any excuses for crying, but all the same, his vulnerability awes you.

A treacherous thought enters your mind: you could kill him now.

You could grab a knife, cut his throat, dump him somewhere outside the lab and claim he left and never returned. Logically, you could even take him as hostage and demand they hand over all their supplies and weapons, but you don’t. You can’t. In truth, you owe them.

Besides, you don’t want to stab Hyunjin, or strangle him or whatever violent thing a more pragmatic and heartless person would do - most likely, Minho would slaughter you if you did, anyway, and you wouldn’t blame him.

At least with these men, this little band of tight knit survivors, you won’t die alone.

In response to that realisation, you link your fingers with Hyunjin’s, smoothing a comforting thumb over his knuckles. A small smile raises the corners of your mouth as he sighs into your shoulder - albeit accompanied with a little sniffle - and you squeeze his hand tightly in a silent pledge: I’ll fight for this family as if it were my own, because I hope that one day it will be.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask abruptly, startled by the rude din of your own voice. “It’s okay if the answer’s no.”

“I… I think I do, if that’s okay,” Hyunjin replies, still with his face buried in your shoulder. “It’s nothing specific, really. I just miss the way things were, you know? And my family, and my dog, Kkami, and the dog before, Kkomi.” He shrugs. “Somehow I even miss just seeing people in the street. I wish I could go outside and get bumped this way and that by a crowd. I don’t even think I’d care if I got mugged or hit on. At least it’d be normal.”

You laugh but sober quickly. “I get that. Holy shit, I get that. Crazy how things changed so fast, huh?”

Hyunjin nods in agreement. “I can hardly remember the - ”

The door bursts open. Your heart lurches as you glimpse the lightning silver flash of a knife, and you jerk upwards on instinct, the coffee table toppling to the floor with a harsh clatter. It takes you half a moment to recognise the raging blur - his features are twisted with a savage, fearsome type of protective intent, his hair still mussed from sleeping.

Eyes blazing, Minho brandishes his knife as he zeroes in on Hyunjin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Minho’s eyes soften, even as he rolls them. “All that fuss for nothing.”

Jeongin appears in the doorway. “I told you they’d be fine,” he grumbles. “You’re paranoid.”

“You gave me the knife,” he huffs. “Don’t act like you weren’t even a little bit concerned.”

Wiping his face, Hyunjin gets up, and you follow him back to the lab. The guys all squint up at you, expressions varying from wide eyed to amused. Chan sighs when he sees everyone is unscathed, half in relief and half in exasperation before promptly ordering everyone back to bed.

This time, you have no problems falling asleep.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable (let me know if you want to be added)

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ framed suicide, murder, drug mention, kidnapping, abuse, blood/injuries, addiction, use of alcohol, swearing, ghosts, minor character death

taglist ~ 18+, no ageless blogs

MASTERLIST

🎬ROLL CALL !

CH 1 ~ UNKNOWN NUMBER CH 2 ~ THE PLAYGROUND CH 3 ~ LAKE HAVEN CH 4 ~ ENERGY CH 5 ~ FAMILY TIES CH 6 ~ RELIVING THE PAST Ch 7 ~ WHAT HAPPENED TO HAN JISUNG? CH 8 ~ SELF-DEFENSE CH 9 ~ BLACKMAIL CH 10 ~ THE FINAL ACT

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)