#LEAVE MY SAD WOLF ALONE HE'S TOO PRECIOUS FOR THIS WORLD

[teencopandthesourwolf]

​🇹​​🇷​​🇺​​🇪​ ​🇧​​🇱​​🇺​​🇪

[maream2636]

The Sea-wolf by Jack london

About a book:

A nobleman book critic named Humphrey Vane is lost at sea after the ship he was carrying is shipwrecked, but is rescued by a fisherman named Wolf Larsen, bringing together two educated minds from two different worlds.

personal opinion:

I liked the philosophical dialogues and how the environment surrounding them created for each of them his own way of interpreting life and determining its value and the reasons for the existence and justice of God and others.

I liked the sharp contrast in Humphrey's opinion of Larsen: at times he loves him and sees him as a marvel, and at other times he saw is a heartless monster who deserves to die, and I found myself in Humphrey's position, so how do you remove that smart mind and sad child and leave that malicious, selfish person?

My review of the book:

7/10

The reason is that the situation was better before Humphrey's girlfriend (I forgot her name) arrived. There was a strange and wonderful chemistry between Humphrey and Wolfe and deep dialogues, but after she came, everything became superficial

The last chapters were boring because of the focus on Humphrey and his girlfriend, or I simply my only interest in Wolf Larsen, so I saw chapters that became boring.

Finally, what bothered me most was the ending, which may be logical and fair to many, but for me, I really wished things would have been different.

One of the book dialogues :

Do you know the only value life has is what life puts upon itself? And it is of course over-estimated since it is of necessity prejudiced in its own favour. Take that man I had aloft. He held on as if he were a precious thing, a treasure beyond diamonds or rubies. To you? No. To me? Not at all. To himself? Yes. But I do not accept his estimate. He sadly overrates himself. There is plenty more life demanding to be born. Had he fallen and dripped his brains upon the deck like honey from the comb, there would have been no loss to the world. He was worth nothing to the world. The supply is too large. To himself only was he of value, and to show how fictitious even this value was, being dead he is unconscious that he has lost himself. He alone rated himself beyond diamonds and rubies. Diamonds and rubies are gone, spread out on the deck to be washed away by a bucket of sea- water, and he does not even know that the diamonds and rubies are gone. He does not lose anything, for with the loss of himself he loses the knowledge of loss. Don't you see? And what have you to say?

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 1 - Loki x Reader

Summary: After your child is born a Frost Giant, your husband accuses you of infidelitiy, unaware about his own heritage...

Warnings: Pregnancy, Childbirth, Angst, Mild Cussing

Noteable: Takes place before Thor 1, Asgardian Fem! Reader

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

It was as if your anchestors wanted to deliver a warning, for Asgard had never faced a storm matching this fateful afternoon.

The thunder swallowed all of your screams and cries, every curse you spoke with each contraction as the baby made it’s way into this world. All this time, your precious husband would never leave your side, letting you squeeze his hand as much as you needed.

“Only a little bit more, my Lady!” the midwife shoutet from between your legs, her tone calm yet cheerful. “I can already see the head!”

“I’m right here. You’re doing wonderful, my petal.” Loki was softly petting your hair, pressing a wet kiss into your forehead. “You are incredibly strong, Y/N. And I love you so much!”

Remaining collected was using up all of his energy at that very moment, you knew that much. Yet not even the God of Lies could hide all the helplessness and excitement stirring in his head at that very moment.

Being with the Prince of Asgard was just like in a dream.

Once you get to know him, that troublesome arrogant lone wolf turned into a smart, caring - and especially charming - prince. And hel, Loki treated you like a Queen.

All this pain you were experiencing right now would ultimately lead to the greatest bliss imagineable - just like it was with Loki.

Oh, how dearly you had fought, suffered, yearned for him, only to be rewarded with heartbreak and frustration. In between his feverishly chase for the throne and his rivalry with Thor, there was just no room for a loving relationship to grow.

The crushing weight of thinking himself unworthy for affection had made him cold and bitter over the millenias, telling himself the comforting lie that he was above all, born for a glorious purpose.

For the God of Mischief, whose kinsmen had always made him feel out of place or under-appreciated, the process of trusting had always been one step forward, three steps back.

But through your compassion, and with a great deal of patience and understanding, you slowly but steadily melted the ice around the prince’s heart.

Because deep inside, you always knew that it was worth it.

And today would be the peak of your romance: Your child would forever remind the Odinson that he belonged somewhere - right here, with you.

“It’s a boy!”

“A heir?!” Loki exclaimed, smothering your face in kisses. “Well done!”

You smiled weakly at his excitement, in between choked sobs. All that your exhausted self was able to process was the fact that your child is born - and you already loved him beyond reason.

“Where is he?!” you whimpered, unable to realize how the air in the room had shifted - for when the midwife touched the infant, she began to scream in agony.

“What’s wrong?!” Loki’s eyes were narrowing at the midwife that almost dropped his newborn, detecting some sort of burn wound on her palm. Quickly, she had covered the boy in a towel, aware that if any harm came over that baby, she was to die at the God of Mischief’s hands.

A flash of lightning was brightening the whole room, which had only been flooded by dim candle light until now.

Another one of the midwife’s screeched in terror, almost stumbling as she frantically erscaped your bedchamber. The adrenaline from birth and worry about your child sharpened your senses, yet concentration was almost impossible.

Still, the words she was yelling as she ran down the hall send a shiver down your spine:

“It’s a monster.”

Your head was spinning as you rushed into an upright position, with two nurses pressing you onto the bed again. “Milady, you need to rest! It’s still too early!”

“What is wrong with my child?!?” you desperately screamed, kicking with your legs to free yourself from their hold. “Give it to me!”

Their expressions were too much to bear. Your head was spinning, seeing pity mixing up with disgust and anger in their eyes.

“Enough!” Loki finally broke his own silence, his mind having been occupied with all the horror scenarios one could think about.

Walking up to the midwife carrying the infant, he demanded seeing it. “Your highness, don’t-” yet the midwife’s beg was for naught.

Yes, everything will be alright. Loki will take care of it, like he always does. After all, he’s your savior, your hero, the love of your life...

Gently and insecure, your husband cradled the newborn in his arms - a sight to behold. And the baby’s strong cries assured you that it was at least alive.

However, as soon as he dared to unwrap the towel, revealing it’s face, Loki’s heartbeat completely stopped for a second. His trembling lip began to shake, mouth widely agape as he took in the child’s form.

For a brief moment, his mind was completely blank. All emotion dropped from his face before taking in a complete different demeanour.

“Wha-” you wouldn’t dare ending that sentence when your husband’s furious eyes met yours.

The air was so thick, you thought not even Thor’s hammer could break it. Clearly ritten on Loki’s usual unreadable face were so many emotions at once:

Aversion, fury, incredible sorrow...all directed towards you? The child?

Impossible.

Loki Odinson loved you more than anything in this world, this was the only thing you had always been sure he wasn’t lying about.

“From all the people I expected to betray me...” His voice was hoarse, as if the ache in his heart was wrapping around his throat. “Why did it have to be you?”

You could feel the horrendous aura, a wave of sadness and despair coming from your husband. Seeing him like this was like torture.

“What- what do you mean, darling-”

“Don’t fucking call me that, you harlot!” That was surely not the first time your lover had raised your voice against you - he could be a bit difficult at times, obviously.

But this time was different somehow. It sounded so...ultimate.

And the Loki you knew would never use such harsh words against you!

“Please, I beg of you...just let me see my baby!” Everything was just too much for you, almost to the point of passing out. 

And the man did as you pleaded, almost shoving the child into your arms. “There, have your bastard! And make sure to never show your filthy faces to me ever again!”

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving you with those strange nurses looking at you like you’ve just commited an unforgiveable crime.

There was no use in overthinking this. He’ll come back like he always did. You can work this out, whatever it is - even if you are gonna be mad for a very long time, making such a fuss and then disappearing instead of taking care of you, the mother of his child.

Out of a whim, you decided to finally observe the little being you’ve been waiting for all those months.

A loud gasp escaped your mouth as you realized just why everyone was so worked up about that little boy. Yet the sound you made was solely surprised - not a hint of fear or rejection laced your voice.

It was a beautiful baby boy, little fists balled to the air as if he was searching for the warmth of his parents - though his skin was in the shade of a dark blue. When you dared running your hand over the deep lines and ridges on his body, the stinging pain of frostbite immediately stung your fingertips. His eyes snapped open, looking at you with black irises through red scleras.

You knew the meaning of this, even though you didn’t understand how this was possible: This child was a biological Frost Giant. A small one, but nonetheless.

A curse? Was someone trying to play your family dirty? No. If that was the case, the child wouldn’t also have actual powers together with the appearance.

Just how long have those tears been running down your cheeks in thick streams already? You wouldn’t know.

Only one thing came as clear as daylight to you: You loved this baby, more than anything in this world. And no matter the hardships that came along with it - you would protect him, no matter what!

“He’s magnificent...” you sniffled, pecking some quick kisses onto his small body before the cold could hurt you. “I love you so, so much...!”

Not minding the judging looks of the nurses, let alone wondering about the consequences, resolve was starting to give you new strenght.

The boy got a grasp on your finger, and instead of your skin freezing off as expected, your magic allowed him to the boy to finally disguise itself as one of you. How was this even possible? Well, this is probably the first time something like this ever happened, so no one could prepare you for what to expect with this child.

They all say that birth was an impactful event - but nothing could’ve prepared you for everything that you had to endure on this day.

Yet nothing could’ve stopped you from believing that this child was the greatest blessing that ever came over you.

Now you only had to convince your husband of that very fact...

“Y/N Y/L/N!” the guard wouldn’t even bother adressing you with your full title as his harsh voice woke you up. When had you drifted away into slumber anyway? You were probably way more worn out than you wanted to admit...

Your eyes immediately snapped open, heart skipping a beat until you saw that your son was still sleeping soundly right next to you. Stroking his cheek as he smiled up to you, it almost made you forget about that burdensome situation.

“Hey!” Protectingly, you were holding onto your child for dear life as the guard approached both of you. “I have an important message to deliver!”

You scowled, almost like an animal mother protecting their offsprings with baring teeth, even though you knew in that state you would be completely and utterly helpless. “Why now? What could be more important than the well-being of my child?”

The answer let your blood run cold:

“I am here to announce that Lady Y/N Y/L/N has to face a trial in front of the Allfather. The following crimes she is being accused of: Infidelity, collaboration with the enemy and trying to sneak one of them into our glorious kingdom.”

[samstree]

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (2/3)

Jaskier pays the price of his lies. With blood and tears and a few broken hearts.

(4.3k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication, mutual pining)

Previous | Read on AO3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4]. 

Jaskier wakes with a crick in his neck and an aching heart.

He goes through the motion of packing, their morning routine too familiar to distract him from the heavy guilt in his chest. Jaskier wonders if Geralt is actively avoiding him—the way his back is turned at every chance can’t be a coincidence.

The only time he so much as spares a glance is when Jaskier puts the lemon cake in their rations bag, wrapped perfectly and untouched. Geralt stills for a split second, his jaw clenched.

Jaskier wants to brush it off.

Finding an excuse is the first instinct he has, thinking of a lie as to why he didn’t eat something he’s been drooling over for ages, and erase that crestfallen look on Geralt’s face, the one that is breaking his heart.

Because he can’t exactly tell the truth, which is that he’s more likely to be sick if he ate it. Another lie, however, would turn his stomach even more.

Jaskier remains silent.

Even Roach is judging him as they walk out of the stable. Jaskier bears her side eyes and annoyed headbutt without putting up a fight. The mare is too perceptive to miss the tension in the air, and her protectiveness is more than justified. She’s a smart girl. Of course, she knows Jaskier is one making her broody witcher brood even harder.

She tries to bite his doublet again, and it’s Geralt who stops her with a soothing hand down his mane, murmuring confused questions into her ear. Sweet, kind Geralt, who has been rejected by Jaskier so many times for no reason in the past few days, is still trying to defend him.

Jaskier needs to make it right.

“Geralt, look—”

“Master Jaskier!”

Someone in the distance rudely interrupts Jaskier’s nervous attempt. He turns by instinct and watches a boy in lilac doublet jog up to them. He’s so young, no older than twenty, still with that joviality and naïvety in his features. The way his matching doublet and trousers could catch the eyes of any crowd reminds Jaskier of himself in his early years.

“Sweet Melitele, I’m your biggest fan! Oh my…” the boy proclaims, awestruck. “I’ve been following your ballads for years, and now I get to meet you in person!”

Jaskier looks to Geralt and then back at the man.

“Ah, I’m flattered. It’s always nice to meet a fan, but you see—” Jaskier gestures to the horse and the man behind him. “—I’m in a hurry to leave town.”

Besides, he’s in no mood to converse right now. The quicker he can get Geralt alone, the better. With this weight on his chest, Jaskier feels so drained just talking to anyone but his witcher, let alone dealing with an enthusiastic fan.

“Oh but you must listen to my set first!” The boy looks at him expectantly. “I dream of writing a hit song just like Toss a Coin. I could be just as big—”

“I’d love to, but the circumstances won’t allow it.” With the biggest smile plastered on his face, Jaskier dismisses the guy. “I’m sure there’s promise in you, especially now you’ve chosen the correct role model—”

“You can go, Jaskier.”

Jaskier snaps his head to Geralt, confused as to what he just heard.

“We need to leave this morning, my dear. That’s the plan.” Jaskier frowns. “Remember?”

He excuses himself to the young man and drags Geralt away too quickly, too rudely—on another day he’d feel contrite ignoring a fan like this, but today he’s mind is occupied by something much more important.

Once out on the street and alone, Geralt’s befuddled frown deepens. “Why did you—”

“I need to tell you something,” Jaskier interrupts. “Before I say it, I know you will get mad at me, but you have to understand that the past year has been hard on me, Geralt. When you showed up in Oxenfurt out of the blue, I didn’t have enough time to process everything or what it would mean for us to travel together again. That’s why everything is so wrong now and I need to make it right.”

“I know what you want to say.”

The world stops.

All he can see is that pained look on Geralt’s face, the one that’s breaking his heart and making his blood run cold. Of course, he knows, witcher senses and all. As if Jaskier has ever gotten away with lying to Geralt’s face in the past.

“You do?” he breathes, the crack in his voice unmistakable.

Geralt lets out a sigh. He’s not mad. At least, he doesn’t look like he’s angry with Jaskier. “It’s been obvious in the past few days, and I… I do understand.”

“Oh.”

There’s still hope then. Jaskier just needs to come clean and apologize, and, definitely, throw whatever game he’s been playing out the window. They will be fine. The two of them, the bard and the witcher on the path, just like the old days—

“I can leave now,” Geralt starts. “With me gone, you’d be free to stay here for longer. You have so many things to see and so many people to meet. You can go back and talk to the boy. Finally, there’s someone who can wax lyrical with you. It’ll be for the best.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to say it, Jaskier. I can see now that it’s better if we part ways. Let’s not make things more difficult.”

Jaskier stares, gaping like a fish out of water. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, after all this time, after the mountain. Geralt wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t.

“You are leaving me here?”

Geralt looks as if he’s stricken. His shoulders tense like every time he wants to appear smaller.

“It’s for the best,” he repeats.

Jaskier shakes his head. “Wait, I thought you understood. I’m sorry, Geralt, for the past few days. I didn’t mean to… I wanted to apologize, so you know I didn’t mean it.”

The smile at the corners of Geralt’s lips is too sad.

“You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to ask it of you to begin with—”

“Ask me what?”

“—Us traveling together again… It was only wishful thinking. There was never a second chance and I never should have gone to find you.”

Jaskier takes a step back, swallowing the lump in his throat. Suddenly the collar of his doublet is too tight and the lute on his back is too heavy. He has to look away from Geralt’s resolute face just to stop the stinging in his eyes.

“You promised…” he mumbles. “You promised not to leave again.”

Geralt falters for a second, his hand resting on Roach’s saddle as if to steady himself. When he answers, his tone is cold, colder than Jaskier can take.

“How can I keep you when everything catches your eye, Jask? You are not made to stay... Not with me. Not after everything that happened.”

Disbelievingly, Jaskier retreats. His hand fists around the strap of his lute case, digging into his palm. “Not made to stay? Seriously?”

“It’s for the—”

“If you tell me it’s for the best one more time, I swear, Geralt…”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt calls out his name without heat like he’s placating an unreasonable child. Jaskier exhales in exasperation.

“Maybe you are right that it was only wishful thinking.” he forces the words out, his heart sinking. “For once it was actually my fault, and you can’t wait to ask for life’s one blessing again.”

“I—”

“Fine. Have at it,” Jaskier hisses. “I don’t care.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Jaskier lands the biggest lie he’s ever told in this mess. He drags his feet to cooperate, to take him away and put some distance between him and the worst disaster that’s ever descended upon his life.

Roach neighs, but the sound is far-away. Jaskier grabs at the doublet at his chest and wonders if the witcher-shaped hole within can ever be filled.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t stop.

He walks into the bustling crowd of the market, heedless of cheery townspeople going about their day, and he keeps walking until the noise dies down.

Jaskier stops at the riverbank with nowhere to go, so he sits down on the ground and finally lets the dam break.

Crying does very little to ease the ache, and yet when the tears bring a release for the pent-up pressure in his chest. It’s hard to feel justified in letting the pain be cried away when he’s so aware of his own faults in the once-again ending of their companionship.

After all, Geralt couldn’t wait to throw him aside on top of that mountain when he’d done nothing wrong. What makes him think Geralt will tolerate him when he intentionally fucks things up.

Jaskier gasps for air, but only a whimper chokes out. How pathetic, to regret the most precious second chance destiny has ever granted him.

Now he knows for sure that he doesn’t deserve to cry, to let himself feel even just slightly better in the wake of his destruction.

Jaskier tries to stifle the tears with a hand at his mouth, and breathes. In and out, one breath after another. It’s like trying to contain a storm threatening to wreck through his entire being.

But he manages, after an eternity.

Jaskier sniffles one last time and wipes away the tear tracks. There’s a tremor in his hands but he pays no mind. The lute case is laying carelessly in the grass where he dropped it. He slings it onto his back and realizes that in a frenzy, he’s left everything else he owns in Roach’s saddlebags.

He could laugh at the idea of going back there, tail between his legs, as if being kicked out of Geralt’s life—for good this time—isn’t humiliating enough. His only hope hangs on the possibility that Geralt may have left his packs at the inn so they don’t have to face each other. Why would Geralt want to see him anyway? The witcher should be long gone.

Jaskier doesn’t make it too far when a streak of lilac pops out of nowhere.

“Oh! Here you are, Master Jaskier. You are a hard man to track down.”

The boy still looks too chirpy for Jaskier’s liking, too bright and too carefree. His mood is soured even further.

“Look, I’m not fit for company today.” Jaskier walks right past the young man, heedless of his insistence. “Mister—what is your name? Maybe you’ll catch me at the next festival if fate allows.”

The boy ignores his deflection and stops right in front of Jaskier’s face, which successfully draws his full attention and pisses him off completely. “I said—”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” The kid doesn’t relent. “I thought the witcher is determined to abandon you for the second time. Don’t you think he’ll stick to it this time?”

Strangely, the other man doesn’t look nearly as young up close. His face is youthful for sure, smooth and unblemished, and yet there’s an inexplicable weariness in his blue eyes. Now that Jaskier notices, these blue eyes look eerily similar to his own. With just the eyes, he could be looking into a mirror.

Jaskier wants to squirm.

“Did no one teach you that eavesdropping is rude?” He pauses, startled. “Wait, a second time… You knew—”

“Oh.” The man looks sheepish. “Can’t blame a fan for keeping tabs on you, can we?”

An overly zealous fan is nothing new, but somehow, this one sends a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jaskier says, trying to back away. “I need to get back to town. You know, where the inspirations are, so I’ll find it in me to… um, compose more of those pieces you love so much.”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself! You are not going back to him, are you? Twenty years! All the sweat and blood and singing his praises and this is what you get after all this time!”

The guy grabs at Jaskier’s arm, which he shakes off in horror.

“You know nothing about me. Or Geralt.”

“That witcher will never see you!” he exclaims. “I was there when your first ballad swept the continent off its feet, Jaskier. From that moment on, I knew you were special. What appreciation has that mutant shown you? Only insults and scorn.”

“Geralt is not like that, he—”

Jaskier freezes to the spot.

He forces his attention back to the boy’s face. His eyes are still startlingly blue, even more so in anger. There’s not a single trace of age at his temples, and yet…

“My first song was twenty-two years ago,” Jaskier states, something akin to fear creeping into his voice. “What did you say your name was again?”

At those words, the man’s face shifts. It’s like watching someone shed a layer of skin, a façade, and another being emerges. A much more powerful one.

“Does it matter?” When he answers, there's magic in the air, sizzling with power. The blue of his eyes shimmers under the surface, ever so slightly. Jaskier’s heart clenches.

Not human.

Definitely not human.

“We never got to know each other, well,” Jaskier stalls. “I think now it’s not too late.”

He has an inkling that getting away will not be an easy feat. He can hope to distract this… this creature long enough for a chance to run. His hand tightens around the strap nervously, and the man’s eyes follow the movement without a beat.

Shit.

Jaskier turns to run, to take the lute case in his hands as a weapon, but it’s too late. The next thing he knows, the case is thrown against the ground and he’s backed against a tree. The other man’s grip around Jaskier’s wrists is like a vice, securing his hands right above him.

Jaskier wants to scream, but no sound escapes his throat. His body shakes all over, out of control.

“The fae never reveal our name easily,” the creature hisses.

Those blue eyes are too sharp and there’s a scent growing overwhelmingly strong. Fae, as it turns out, smell like newly cut grass and wildflowers, like the forest.

If only Jaskier can live long enough to share the trivia.

And then, with both their hands occupied, the fae presses his forehead to Jaskier. He struggles but to no avail.

The touch is cold and something is slipping into Jaskier’s mind like an icy stream in the spring. It trickles probs at every corner of his memories.

“Oh, even now you are loyal to the witcher. You still believe he’ll save you, little songbird.”

Jaskier’s vision turns fuzzy. His soundless whimpering breaks into breathless gasps, like a wounded animal waiting for a mercy kill. At the back of his mind, he’s achingly aware of Geralt’s absence. His witcher in shining armor won’t come this time, not after all the—

“All the pretty little lies. Every single one of them, born out of love, misguided.”

However true that statement is, Jaskier doesn’t want to hear it. His love for Geralt shouldn’t be spoken with malice. He fights against the fae’s iron hold with everything he can muster.

There’s a crack of bones before the pain hits him, exploding from his wrists all the way down his arms. Jaskier sobs, the edges of his vision darkening, the shock threatening to pull him under. He still can’t make a sound.

“What can we do?” The fae’s voice comes from a distant realm. “How can we have your loyalty as the witcher does? Oh, how fierce you are, songbird. To have your voice at our court… Perhaps, more lies will do. Yes, it was your choice, what your heart desired. A gift from us.”

Jaskier can’t process anything he’s hearing. He’s too tired from the searing pain in his wrists.

“Just a few lies. They’ll be easy to roll off the tongue, and yet, such powerful weapons.” The fae retreats. “A gift of lies. Thank you for the inspiration, Jaskier the bard. We hope you enjoy it as much as we will.”

Without the brute force holding up his body, Jaskier sagas against the tree, his legs unable to support his weight. His lungs burn and his mind turns fuzzy, bereft of the fae’s presence.

Jaskier needs to move, needs to scramble away from this place. But before the sweet relief of freedom even hits him, magic seizes him again and, finally, finally, a world-ending scream explodes from his lungs.

The world goes to black soon after.

 ~~

Jaskier wakes to someone shaking his shoulder, someone gentle.

His body pulses like a bruised nerve. The back of his head feels like it’s been trampled by a whole army and his neck creaks at the barest move. Jaskier’s nose is buried in damp grass and he chokes, which jostles his neck even more.

He groans miserably and tries to touch, only to be stopped by the burning in his wrists. He lets out a hiss.

Right, broken bones. Blue eyes that look the same as his. Fae.

“Careful… Fuck, Jaskier, what happened?”

A gravelly voice comes through the fog.

Geralt.

Oh, Jaskier can sob with relief. He arches his back, slowly propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes are so sore from lying on the ground face down, but the sight of his witcher is unmistakable.

Jaskier wants to call out for his witcher, but a sob is the only thing that gets out. He cradles his hands and finds his right wrist is swollen red and sensitive to the touch, but the left looks more or less the same. Only a throbbing pain tugging at his fingertips.

He reaches to the back of his head with his left hand, where the crick is prickling at his nerves, only to find a gash at his nape and hair caked with blood. He doesn’t remember hitting his head while falling. He doesn’t remember falling at all.

So, one wrist sprained, the other broken, plus a gaping hole in his head. Jaskier can cope.

If he doesn’t die from the embarrassment, that is. He whines pathetically, already exhausted.

“I told you not to move.” Geralt catches Jaskier’s tilting body. Amber gold flows with concern. “What happened to you, Jask?”

The question comes out soft, more of a whisper to the witcher himself than demanding answers. Jaskier’s lips wobble at the endearment. He needs to tell Geralt everything. Fuck his injured pride. Geralt came for him. This wonderful, beautiful, sweet man came to him after the disaster that is this morning and he’s still trying to help Jaskier.

All because Geralt is safety. He’s safety and home, and Jaskier needs to tell him—

“None of your business, witcher.”

It takes a moment for Jaskier to register what left his lips, the venom that drips from these words so foreign. He’s never aimed at Geralt before. From the looks of it, Geralt is equally startled if the tiny crease by his lips is any indication.

“You hit your head,” Geralt says patiently, hovering close to Jaskier’s face in an attempt to check the wound on his neck. “It’s bad. Here, let me see—”

“Get your filthy hands away from me!”

The words fly out on their own volition. Jaskier flinches, the same time as Geralt takes back his hand as if burned. He closes his mouth with a pop and the feeling of something severely wrong weighs down on his stomach. That’s not what he meant, not at all. The only thing he wants to do is lean into Geralt’s touch and melt into a puddle. Whyever did his mouth betray his heart? Why did he…

Why did he…

…Lie?

His mind focuses on a sing-songy voice.

A gift from us.

A gift of lies.

It’s like a bucket of ice water thrown over Jaskier’s head. He sobers up immediately. The inspiration they took from him. The fae’s gift.

The fae’s curse.

Geralt’s brows are knitted together, amber eyes imbued with hurt. He is still crouched in front of Jaskier, hands fisted at his side and shoulders taut. He’s got the look now, that lost look that only appears when a mob drives him out of town with pitchforks and stones. Jaskier has seen that look one too many times.

And now he's the one causing it.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, shocked, unsure.

Jaskier breathes hard and tastes the bile rising in his throat. Geralt doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to have that hopeless look on his face or to be shunned by the world, by anyone, and least of all, by someone he’s let stay beside him for so many years. By the Gods, Jaskier needs to let Geralt know he’s the kindest person on earth and more human than any human. He’s Jaskier’s friend and protector, his dream, his heart—

“You are a mutant, a freak,” Jaskier feels the words slip out, too late to realize the mistake of opening his mouth. “No better than the monsters you slay.” The magic compels his tongue. He bites down on it but it’s only futile. “You feel nothing and give nothing but death to those around you.”

Jaskier recoils, tasting blood. In front of him, Geralt mirrors his movement. The entire time, the wolf medallion rests against his chest plate, Jaskier’s last hope, sitting still and unresponsive.

And Geralt…

He doesn’t defend himself.

Of course not. Geralt never defends himself against the stoning even when he can easily defeat most humans with his bare hands. There’s a faded scar near his hairline, a solid proof of men’s capacity for prejudice and violence.

Now Jaskier has joined their ranks.

Geralt looks like he’s been suck-punched in the gut, his eyes wide and crestfallen. And yet, wide amber eyes gaze upon Jaskier without accusation, only quiet acceptance. Jaskier shudders with disgust and fear, which must be the reason Geralt is backing away further.

“I’ll leave… If you—” he pauses, before standing up. “I see. This is goodbye, Jaskier.”

Don’t go!

“Get away then!”

Jaskier shakes his head, putting all the force he can muster into biting into his lips, scared of what may come out. His wrists burn but he has to force his mouth shut by pressing his palms over it.

Why can’t Geralt see that something’s wrong? Why can’t he see Jaskier?

See me! Jaskier pleads silently through the tears.

Geralt’s face falters as he spares one last glance at Jaskier.

Look what you’ve done to him, the sing-songy voice returns. This is your choice. You chose to lie, little poet. Be careful what you wish for.

Jaskier crumbles like a puppet with his strings cut. He barely contains the choked-out whimpers. The burning in his lungs is nothing compared to the anguish. He could die at this moment and it would be a sweet release. Hurting Geralt like this, it’s worse than a thousand broken bones and a million cuts on his skin. In the darkest corners of his mind, he wants Geralt to walk away from him. If Jaskier has to spew any more venom towards the man he’s loved for more than half of his life, he’d surely want to walk into the ocean and never come out.

He presses his ears to the grass and remembers the cold wind on the mountain. He was a fool to hope Geralt could come to him then. He is a fool now.

The witcher drags his feet away, one step after another, trampling the soft flora under him, and then—

And then, by some miracle, he stops.

Jaskier watches as his witcher turns around and rushes back to his side, his jaw clenched and eyes determined. His heart bursts with hope, but his fists press against his mouth harder. There’s more blood coating his tongue.

“I can’t,” Geralt states as he kneels next to Jaskier’s curled body. The betrayal in his eyes ebbs away and in its place is something…tortured.

Jaskier shakes his head, or is he trembling again? His vision swims with blood loss. He won’t be able to stay awake for long.

“I can’t leave you here, Jaskier,” he muses to himself, frowning deep. “Shit. You are bleeding again.”

Jaskier scoffs into his fist, almost hysterical.

“You are in shock, and you are about to pass out. I don’t know what happened, but your wrists are a mess. Jaskier…” The name comes out like a prayer. “I heard your wishes. Loud and clear, this time. I know you loathe my presence in your life, but… I have to make sure you’ll get better. Please, forgive me.”

Geralt tries to gently pry Jaskeir’s hands away, but he struggles blindly. Through the haze of his mind, Jaskier’s last thought reminds him to keep his mouth closed.

“Forgive me,” Geralt mutters in anguish, “I can’t let you hurt yourself because of me. Forgive me, just one more time.”

His hand makes the familiar sign of Axii, and everything turns…soft.

The pain is gone, the magical hold on his tongue too. Jaskier loses himself in the mellow sensation of giving up control. The ground disappears under his body and his head lolls against Geralt’s chest.

“I was wrong.” Regret rumbles deep in Geralt’s chest. “I was the curse that befell you. After all the hurt you’ve received by my side, Gods, and I still can’t keep myself away from you. I will not make the mistake of forcing myself into your life again, Jask. Allow me a few days to see you safe, and then... Never again.”

The vow is so wrong, but Jaskeir is powerless to protest. He catches a broken whisper before darkness claims him for the second time on the same day.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. For my heart.”

Jaskier welcomes the oblivion that drags him under, as well as the nightmares that follow.

~~

I'm...sorry. 

One more chapter to go. Hopefully this time I won't have to up the chapter count. Some real communication and comfort are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @a-kind-of-merry-war @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[bokettochild]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a short fic related to your story ‘the blood between us’, from Warriors PoV when Wild got taken away from him as a child

This is more of a drabble than anything, and I probably will revisit it later, but I thought I would share this little piece now.

Sorry if it isn't angsty enough, I'm running on nerves and spontaneous inspiration right now.

Link cried when he first saw his son.

Bundled up in the carefully washed scarf that Zelda had made for him years ago, his child looked so small and fragile. Sablya had smiled, weak and weary as she offered the child to him, and for half of a moment he almost refused.

Once their child was in his arms, however, there was no removing him from them.

Whisps of golden hair and a brief hint of shimmering cornflower blue eyes reflected a perfect balance of the orange sheen of his mother and the dusty blonde of his father, as well as a the mix between Royal blue and dusky silver.

Their child’s skin was mottled in a way that may have worried the two new parents, had it not been for his mother’s blood providing all the answers they could need.

He was perfect.

Link had clutched the tiny bundle close to his chest, crystal tears running down his face as his wife gently patted his arm, a smile twitching at her dark lips as she listened to the whispered promises of love and protection from her soldier husband. There was no doubt in the mind of the midwife, as the woman packed her bag and made to leave, that these two would make excellent parents.

“Why Zve-Zvee-”

“Zvezda.” Sablya correcting, the word rolling off her tongue with the same lilting of her accent that it always bore. “It mean ‘shining one’, Link.”

“And for Hylia’s sakes, you are not naming your child ‘Link’.” Grandfather had grumbled, shuddering slightly even as a sad smile pulled at his features.

“See?” Dark brows arched regally as his wife looked down at him. “Fate can not steal him if name is from realm beyond the control of goddesses themselves.”

Link had sighed and shaken his head. “I can’t even say it.”

“Then say Zvee,” Sablya chuckled, eyes lingering on the child in her arms. “It mean ‘bright’.”

“And bright he will be,” Grandfather chuckled. “I can already see him messin’ round with those contraptions yer cousin had commissioned.”

“Riding Guardians, play with runes.” Sablya chuckled. “Will master all mysteries.”

“Hey now, don’t settle too heavy of expectations on the babe’s shoulders, he’s not even babbling yet.” Link protested, reaching out for the infant in his wife’s arms only to have the other two laugh at him.

Little Zvezda, or Zvee, as Link eventually agreed to, grew fast and strong. He was a small thing, but there was never any fear for his safety. Not when Link was such a doting father, forever keeping his gaze after the child, even with Linkle’s and his wolf friend from their childhood looking out for him.

True to the family ways, the babe was active, if not a bit quiet, and there were few days when he wasn’t found wandering about, his father trailing behind and the wolf faithfully following at his side. Animals flocked to him and there wasn’t an outing where some bird or beastie wasn’t found coming closer than usual to their small infant.

He was nearly silent, slipping off and out of sight in a moment's notice. Unnaturally fast, Link had complained to Grandfather with a fond sigh, eyes trailing after his son as the boy chased after his wolf companion. He was remarkably clever; Zelda had laughed as she watched chubby fingers held twist a bolt into one of the guardians that her Sheikah researchers was working on.

“Sunshine.” Zelda cooed as she swung about the castle halls with him in her arms.

“Little Shade.” Sablya whispered as he snuck into their room in the middle of the night.

“Wild Child.” link would chuckle as he removed the babe from one or another den or grove that the babe somehow managed to sneak off too.

Zvezda was the light of Link’s life but there was no getting away with keeping his precious son to himself. Even the Guardian’s of Time, on their rare visits to the castle, had become enchanted with him. Cia and Lana would coo and laugh as the cubby toddler would explore and poke about in a manner all his own, their laughter only growing as Link had been forced to break form from the rest of the soldiers in order to chase down his offspring. He would have left Zvee at home with Sablya, only Zelda had insisted that she get to see her nephew.

Link had never been stared at with such disapproval by his commanding officer, but with his son giggling and cooing in his arms, he found that he didn’t really care.

It was the little moments that he loved the most. The moments when Sablya and he would wrap their child in Link’s scarf, for no blanket would suffice, not as far as Zvezda was concerned, which Zelda had carefully enlarged for that very purpose, songs and melodies slipping off of their tongues as they sang him to sleep.

It was moments like when Grandfather would toss Zvee into the air, shrieking giggles filling the house as Sablya watched with worry as their child soared, only to be caught by hands roughened by sea and storms but gentle as could be. Zvee would burry his hands in Grandfather’s beard just as Link had as a child, and it wasn’t uncommon to find the two fast asleep together come the middle of the day, Zvee looking for all the world like a little golden bird curled up in his great-grandfather's beard.

It was moments like when the wolf would come, Zvee hanging out of his mouth like some sort of cub, a tired expression on the canine’s face as he deposited a scraped and bruised Zvee into Link’s lap, where he would be combed and brushed, the twigs pulled from his hair and the scrapes tended as Link would scold him gently. The scoldings were quickly forgotten and the twigs would be back within hours some days, but Link could only smile and settle the child down again, repeating himself as he ran a brush through silky long locks.

Moments like when Sablya had taken their family to her own home and presented their child to her own great-grandfather, pride clear on her face as she had watched the old Hylian hold their son. Zvezda had taken to his great-great-grandfather in a way that he had never done with strangers before, but Link blamed it on the heavy furs that the man wore; Zvee was always a sucker for fluffy things.

These were the moments that he treasured the most. The simple times.

But all good things must come to an end.

A guardian can only stand to sit alone in a palace and watch the world go by for so long. Two girls locked away from the world, save on set occasions, were bound to eventually snap.

Lana had turned her loneliness and sorrow into passion as she did her best by the timeline, but Cia had allowed hers to fester, growing bitter as she watched the rest of the world find love and safety in the arms of others, left herself with no one.

Her jealousy towards the crown and her desperation for a companion that would last through time had driven her to break the vows of the Time Guardians attacking the palace and the princess within.

Link had been called to service that day, a messenger riding past their house with a message to gather at the castle, to defend the princess.

Link kissed his wife and son goodbye, eyes lingering on them for a moment as resolve stirred within. He’d defeated Malladus as a child, a corrupted Time Guardian could hardly be worse. He would be home in no time, his child in his arms and his wife by his side.

Sablya smiled at him with pride. “Kick ass.”

“Ass!” Zvezda echoed, earning his mother a sharp look from her beloved as she chuckled.

A final kiss for the each of them and he was swinging up on Epona’s back and riding out with the rest of the soldiers.

He never would have guessed that while saving a life he would be bestowed with the Triforce. Never could have guessed that in gaining the goddesses favor he would also catch the eye of a bitterly lonely woman.

He was named the Hero Incarnate before the kingdom.

Grandfather had smiled with pride, but his eyes had held a sadness that Link could not understand.

Sablya had kissed his lips, murmuring softly that the hero’s tunic suited her beloved far better than any Hylian soldiers' uniform. Zvezda had promptly pulled off his hat and attempted to put it on.

“You’ll never have to wear that thing,” Link promised that night as he pulled the long green cap from his sleeping child’s fingers. “Not on my watch, Little Zvee.”

“Thank Hylia.” Linkle giggled quietly from the door to the bedroom. “That thing looks terrible.”

He’d thrown the cap at her, making her muffle a screech as she darted out of the way, but he didn’t push further. Pride welled in his heart as he thought of the honor he had been bestowed, and that one day, his son might look to him and see a hero. It was a wonderful thought.

Being a hero was a wonderous thing.

Until it wasn’t.

Until he was waking up to a wind that shouldn’t have been there. Until he was rushing down the halls as Zvezda’s screams echoed into their room.

Sablya and he had barely burst through the door, their nightclothes hanging loose about them as their terrified gazes had turned from the empty bed to the child sliding slowly across the floor, his sleeve locked in the jaws of the golden wolf as it attempted to pull it away from the swirling dark abyss that had appeared on the far wall.

Link had darted forwards, fear pounding in his heart and hands already reaching for his son.

Zvezda’s fingers brushed against his for one heart pounding second.

There was a whooshing of the portal, a final pull fo wind and a final shriek mingling with a frightened bark.

And then there was silence.

Link cried when he first saw his son.

The night that he lost him, all of Hyrule could hear the roars of agony.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 11- At Last

Summary: Finally reunited with Geralt, the two of you attempt to avoid Nilfgaard and find a tavern for the evening, although it appears destiny has other plans.

Warning: angst, fluff

 Masterlist

-last and final chapter my Witcher friends, that is until next season, and yes I will be continuing reader and Geralt’s story. There’ll be more monster slaying and adventures to come!

Within minutes after reuniting with your silver haired lover, did the two of you immediately find a spot elsewhere from the main trail for well...you know. A place hidden away from any unwanted prying eyes so that you both could show one another just how much you've desperately missed each other, in more ways then one. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so euphoric, perhaps that's just what making sweet love to your Witcher does to you. Even when he's pounding you against a tree while whispering the most dirtiest of sweet nothings into your ear.

You hadn't touched him like this in weeks, nor seen him for that matter, but he felt wonderful and seemed to be enjoying his time with you just the same. Though all too soon would your bodies have to part from one another's close embrace. All to your utter disappointment did the two of you end your hasty love making session, seeing as the land is closely crawling with Nilfgaard soldiers and who knows what else.

You got what you could get, and anyways, that won't be the first nor last time you two fuck in the woods.

The grass feels soft against your clothed bottom as you lace up your boot, your gaze set to the individual across from you as your eyes unbashfuly admire Geralt while he lays in the grass shirtless. His beautiful golden irises staring up into the tree tops as the wind sways the leaves every which way.

You pull at the leather strings, tying a confident knot with skilled hands while a small breeze blows your hair back, you're admittedly feeling quite delightful if you're being honest. Though when your crimson eyes glance up at the snowy haired man again, he's turned his head to you.

Your eyes meet at once, sending a blissful smirk upon your lips, "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" You teased, narrowing your eyes in a playful manner.

Geralt's lips curl into a half smile as he lets out a small hum in reply. Setting your arms upon your propped up knees, you freely show him an eye roll. Earning a proper chuckle from the man, "Y/N I was simply cherishing your stunning appearance."

Shaking your head you smile, "Yes, of course you were. And I am simply looking at a shirtless man with the most utter respect and clean of thoughts in my mind." You casually shrug, "Nothing else going on in here, I promise."

Geralt raises a greyish brow, moving to prop himself up upon his elbow, "That sounds honest." He hums, "But you are no virtuous maiden my love, and by that telling look on your face only moments ago. I can only imagine what things you may have been thinking of then."

You let out a snort before deciding to crawl over to him, where he lets you push him back into the grass, "Indeed I am not." You whisper close, leaning on an elbow as your other hand caresses his cheek, "But I am undoubtedly in love with a Witcher of all creatures to walk this earth, so if we're using our heads, what does that truly say of me then?"

His golden eyes keep to yours as he brings a hand to rest over your arm, "I would say it means perhaps I am a fool to fall for one of my enemies' creations, my dear Y/N..." He pauses for a moment, taking this brief second to focus on you and only you as he holds you with the most care, "you are most cunning and beautiful."

Leaning into his small touch you grin blissfully, a feeling of ease and calmness setting over you as Geralt studies your face, "You are no fool my White Wolf. That I am sure of without a doubt in my mind, I can't seem to be able to even jest about it." You chuckle, "Though you tempt me at times." The smile that he gives you is the most precious thing your eyes could ever be blessed with, its warm and genuine, filled with the deepest and most purest of love for you. His lady of night, the one monster he could never slay, nor would he ever dare.

Though your heart fills with joy for him, a sudden sadness seeps into your soul, obstructing your happiness. Your eyes fall downcast as you move to lay yourself next to Geralt in the grass, he follows you closely, a frown displaying itself upon his handsome features at your sudden spurt of melancholy.

"What troubles you Y/N?" Wonders Geralt, shifting his body so that he can rest an arm over your chest, pulling you in close as he studies your face.

Resting a hand on Geralt's muscular arm, you frown once again, "I was brief about my short time in Aretuza and the Elven keep, I know I told you about all those bastard soldiers I killed and when I helped the mages the best I could.....it's just. I haven't told you everything." Your voice feels so small in the large forest, now since you think about it. You haven't had the time to completely process what happened at Sodden's Hill, with all those soldiers, the other mages, and especially Yennefer.

So much death.

His brow furrows in thought, unsure of what you're going to reveal next, all he knows is that he doesn't plan on letting you go for awhile longer. Your Witcher hums in reply, giving you a moment to find your words. Taking a deep heavy sigh you turn your head to look out at the clouds. "We tried to protect the North from Nilfgaard, those fuckers had their own spout of powerful mages to test against our own. For the whole day we all fought together...every man, woman, child, and mage. Fucking farmers and tired refugees, they weren't warriors, Geralt. None of them were."

You take another shaky breath as Geralt presses his head against your cheek, "I did what I could to save them. But I'm just one person, I couldn't save them all....though I must admit, those people fought braver then most royal soldiers I've ever seen. They have good heart in them....well, I guess did. Not many survivors I think, just the ones who had enough sense to get the fuck out of there.....and of course myself, Tissaia, Triss, and Yenn..." A small lump forms in your throat as you remember what happened, causing you to choke on your own words for a moment.

You bite your lip hard, your hand squeezing tightly onto Geralt's muscular forearm as you collect yourself enough to speak, though your voice is raspy and broken, "Yennefer, right. She fought valiantly like a true warrior, she was like a phoenix, like a raging mighty dragon of power and flame...Geralt you should have seen her." A tear falls down the side of your face as you smile into the cloud covered sun, your voice above a whisper, "I'd never seen anything like it....it was.....beautiful."

A light kiss is placed gently over your tear streak while his hand moves to find yours, "What I would have given to see you slay those dogs alongside Yennefer, Y/N. I'm sure she is proud to call you a friend."

"She's dead." Those two words leave your lips so quietly that Geralt almost doesn't catch them, but he does.

The heavy weight of this news takes him off guard, he did not expect you to just lay such tragic tidings over him like that, he may have been greatly annoyed by Yennefer but he did see that stubborn mage as a friend. Though his heart hurts for how broken and defeated you feel from the terrors you'd underwent only yesterday, the great loss you've experienced, all of your traumas crashing down atop your soul in this moment. He wants to comfort you the best he can.

He listens to the steady beating of your heart, understanding how sad yet angry you're feeling, "I'm sorry Y/N. Truly I am."

A tired smile forms at the corners of your lips as you turn teary eyes over to your Witcher, your faces mere inches from one another, "She was my first real friend you know, and I think I was hers. I'm grateful to have spent the last of her hours on this earth by her side then.....glad she wasn't alone. I just wish..." Swallowing the lump in your throat, you focus on Geralt's shimmering irises once again, "I just wish the world wouldn't take everyone I give a shit about, so don't plan on doing anything stupid, okay? I can't lose anyone else or so help me god or whoever is listening out there, I will slaughter the bastards who dare take you away from me."

"I do not doubt it my love, and don't worry Y/N. I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon." He speaks honestly before pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "You have my word."

——

Geralt holds tightly to Roach's leather reigns as he keeps a firm hand over your lower abdomen, a small content smile gracing over your features while you sit comfortably in front of him on the large mare. Just as you always have.

Your hands rest over his as you keep a steady lookout over the trail ahead, silently overjoyed to be leaning against Geralt and all of his godly body holding you up. A blissfully drunken grin keeps to your face while your mind tumbles and reels with everything that he's just confided about from the last four weeks, like what you'd done earlier after a fine quick session of love making.

Apparently he's been busy.

Though for the second time today, another troubling thought randomly pops into your mind as things tend to do, and now you feel this time is as good as ever to actually address it. Squeezing his arm a bit you let out a half amused huff, showing that you're about to speak your mind on something idiotic Geralt has done, and he knows it.

Your Witcher figured you'd eventually spill your two cents, as you always seem to do.

"So." You begin, slow and filled with something Geralt's not quite sure of, he mentally cringes as you squeeze his arm again, "you just told him to fuck off and that you'd prefer to never see him ever again? Just like that? To our bard. Jaskier."

Geralt pauses for a moment as you wait for an answer, "Yes." Is all he whispers, low and filled with regret. He told you all about Jaskier and himself hours ago, hoping you wouldn't bring it back up, but of course you would. He's never that lucky, there's nothing you don't ever catch.

You raise a brow and shrug, "Can't say I blame you. That idiot has gotten our asses in a lot of shit over the years." He lets out a breath, glad you're not fuming at his heated rash actions on the mountainside after you dramatically parted ways. Suddenly you grip his arm tight, enough to actually feel uncomfortable, he sucks in a breath as you squeeze, "Although, I don't believe Jaskier completely deserved that." You seethe through clenched teeth before letting go of your iron grip. So you are angry after all, thinks Geralt, funny way of showing it.

"I know....I was just....I'm sorry Y/N." He replies, his voice much softer then he'd intended.

Your face falls as you feel the hurt in his words for what he's done, "I know Geralt." You sigh, "Enough with the sorry's and regrets okay....what's done is done and there's nothing we can do about it now. And anyways, as I like to say "we'll cross that bridge when we get there" so don't feel shitty about it now." He gives you a hidden smile as you chuckle to yourself, "You can feel shitty about it later."

Geralt lets out an amused snort, "Always one for wise words Y/N. What would I do without your kind intellect?"

"Dunno." You casually shrug, "Be a far less intriguing creature I suppose."

He tenderly kisses the top of your head, "I'd be a fool to argue against that logic."

"You're still a fool either way." You jest, cackling at your friendly jab at him, earning a gentle squeeze on your hip that sends butterflies into your stomach.

Gods the things he does to you.

For a couple more hours would you both ride Roach down the trail, past countless trees and a few streams until the sun would begin her descent over the land. Through this time you've been admittedly back to your old habits of amusing your Witcher to pass the time, mixed with seeing how long it would take to annoy him before he threatened to kick you off the mare.

It had been quite the eventful stretch of time before you caught the nasty pheromones of war seeping throughout the forest from some place close by, but not seen by your skilled eyes just yet. You held your tongue, not wanting to worry Geralt over something as insignificant as rotting corpses in the woods. But as Roach gets closer and closer, you begin to feel more strange, your scarlet irises suddenly catch a ripped tent behind a few trees.

Nilfgaard. Smell of death, more destroyed tents. Those bastards did this.

Your nose crinkles in disgust, the scent of freshly decaying corpses overloading your senses just about making your eyes water, you can't smell anything else but the stench of death.

"What I would give to be in a flower meadow right now." You seethe, blinking away the reactive tears in your eyes, Geralt looks down to you, unsure of what you mean considering his sense of smell is not nearly as prominent as yours. "I think Nilfgaard found a camp just over there, gods it reaks."

His grey brows furrow in thought, though he's left his words in the back of his throat as Roach walks closer to the carnage. Suddenly the three of you are face to face with an older man and his horse cart as he desperately and stupidly does his best to move the dead in piles for whatever it is that he's intended for them.

What a strange man.

Geralt shifts from behind you, tilting his head at the bearded man, "Ill winds follow grave robbers." States your Witcher as he hugs you closer protectively, or perhaps to keep you from doing anything destructive. The greyed man looks to the two of you, quietly acknowledging your existence before turning around to continue his doings.

"If I was a grave robber, I'd be taking their belongings, Butcher." He adds gruffly, squatting down to examine another slain body, "So best keep your beast with you." He adds, side eyeing you cautiously as he goes to move another of the deceased. Well, he knows Geralt's a Witcher and that you're not human. Maybe he's not that idiotic?

Geralt smirks, "If I was to let her satiate her appetite, you'd be amongst the corpses." The man falls silent, looking wearily between the two of you as your scarlet eyes trail over the nervous man.

He lets out a sigh, finally breaking under both your hard gazes, "I was goin' home to my family when I came upon these poor souls." He points towards the rotting bodies, "Cintran refugees. Dead at least a week. Now they're a feast for the crows."

"They're not for crows." You implore, shifting your ruby irises across the shadowy wood line while you listen to the buzzing of feasting flies. You had previously forgotten about what else may lurk in the shadows ready to feed, until now.

"Wolves?" He wonders.

"No."

Shaking his head, he ignores your odd wary vigilance, turning to glance at the two of you, "With more hands I could move quicker."

Yeah, fuck that.

"The only thing you should do quickly is flee." Warns Geralt, alert to the same understanding of what creatures may be hiding close by. The strange man grunts as he drags a body over the leaves, ignorantly discounting both your warnings.

With a click of his tongue, Geralt pulls at the mares reigns, "Come on, Roach, back to Kaer Morhen." You shake your head at the man as Roach begins to take a couple steps forward.

"Don't leave!" Pleads the bearded man, while dragging another, "Look at these people. Innocent people, killed for what?" He exclaims, sucking in labored breaths as he stands to look out over the mass of dead refugees, "So Nilfgaard can have more land? We owe it to 'em to do better."

"I'm not better." Mutters Geralt as he directs Roach away.

Always so dramatic huh.

You don't make it even three feet before your sensitive ears prick at the sound of crawling under the dirt. You know exactly what's now hunting the man, without a second thought do you break from Geralt's muscular arms to jump off of Roach.

Your feet move inhumanly fast as you race for the panicked man who's now scrambling away on the forest floor as two hungry ghouls claw for a taste. Realizing all too late that your silver dagger is lost to the ages you quickly adapt to instead aim for electrocuting the ugly fuckers.

Your palms spread wide as white hot lightening crackles and sparks in the misty night air, piercing the grotesque bodies of the living undead.

They screech in pain, giving Geralt just enough time to cut them down before they're able to recover, the man stops whimpering in fear as he turns his head up to you and Geralt. Who's now crouched a couple feet from the wide eyed man while he cleans off his sword, his eyes now two pools of glistening obsidian.

Sparks crackle in your palms as you huff in annoyance, "Go home." Your voice strong and steady.

The man snaps his attention over to you, "I can help." He insists urgently, causing you to roll your crimson eyes.

"One bite will kill you." Implores Geralt sternly.

The man turns to him, "Or you two." Then back to you again, his eyes fretful as you notice how he's just about shaking. He's terrified.

You let out a frustrated sigh, "I'm immune." You conclude gruffly, pointing to both himself and Geralt, "But not you two, so if you want to see your wife again...go home." The man stays still, breathing heavily as he sits on the soft ground, his mind swirling.

Geralt slowly stands, glaring at the man, "Go...home!" He snaps in that gravely voice of his, the petrified man stares at him before looking to your equally as stoic face. The blood red glow of your irises and the low crackling of lighting in your palm shifting his mind to a new understanding of his current situation.

He lets out a shaky breath, "All right..." Huffs the bearded man before scrambling to his feet, his boots carrying him over to his cart as he throws something into the back.

You ignore him and watch as Geralt walks slowly forward, his black eyes cautiously surveying over the land as you take a step, "Let me be the first to say, but I don't happen to feel very fond of what else follows." You whisper softly, your voice laced with concern as you sniff the foggy damp air, smelling nothing but decaying flesh as it wafts into your nostrils.

Geralt holds his weapon tightly, opening his mouth to answer, but before he's able to say anything a piercing screech breaks out from the woods. His sword flashes in the moonlight as he cuts down another hungry ghoul. Without warning another one breaks out of the earth to his right, dead in a flash as he slashes it across the throat.

The dirt bulges upward as another crawls from underneath the ground, heading directly for Geralt, the beast doesn't stand a chance as your Witcher stabs the soil directly in front of him. Killing the damn ghoul in an instant. Suddenly a black screaming flash races past you and tackles him to the ground.

"Oh fuck!" Unknowingly leaves you lips as you race to his aid, five of them have him pinned to the ground already as you pull his silver sword from the earth that he had left behind in the scuffle. These starving bastards don't see you coming as you begin slashing and hacking violently away at the ghouls. Trying your damn best to get them off of Geralt, they scream in agony as you end their half-lives.

More race out from the shadows to surround the two of you, Geralt pushes and punches more off of him as you slice through their grotesque inhuman bodies. So caught up in your own world that you don't have time to make sure if Geralt is all right when another one jumps for your arm, only to be greeted with a hard cut to its sunken in stomach.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you turn your head left and right, readying for anything else. When nothing appears to move you lower his sword to your side, turning around to give Geralt a smirk and no less a cocky comment.

Your face instantly falls when he whispers a harsh "fuck" while he leans down to look at something on his left thigh. He shakes his snowy mane, standing to his full height as he takes a limped step towards you. His obsidian eyes finally finding yours as he takes another troubled step forward, he looks like a mess.

Your eyes glance down at the bite mark revealing itself from an opened spot in his dark pants, you suck in a sharp breath, your face dead serious as you watch him with wide glossy eyes. His face looks rough and sweaty as he limps closer, suddenly falling to his knees as he stares at you, almost pleadingly, his dark eyes full of pain.

"Geralt?" You whisper, your nerves standing on end at the sight of him, no way he's just been bitten, it can't be.

Your lip quivers as you drop the forgotten sword upon the earth, taking hasty steps as he looks tiredly into your frightened face. You quickly kneel down to meet his eye level as he lets out a shaky breath, your hands gently touch his dirt smudged face as he wills his hands to grasp your arms.

His grip is unnaturally weak as you look deeply into his eyes, your voice shaky, "You're fine. You're fine, it's just a small wound nothing worth worrying over....it's just..it's nothing...you're fi...." His head falls downward in your palms as his hands slip from their place on your arms, "No, no, no, no....Geralt, love look at me! Look at me!" He answers back with a low groan, you swallow the building lump in your throat as he struggles to lift his tired gaze to yours.

The weakest of smiles displays over his handsome features as he lets out a tired sigh, "You're beautiful....you know that?" His voice is soft and broken as you hold up his face, biting your lip to keep from crying. He smiles sluggishly, "Thank you for loving me...I....Y/N...I...love y..."

Suddenly his eyes shut as he goes limp against you, you catch him and quickly move to gently position his body so that his head can rest in your lap, "Geralt no!" You exclaim desperately through tears that are starting to blur your vision, "Wake up! Wake the fuck up you dick...you can't leave me here!" You shake his shoulder but to no avail, "Fuck! No, no, no....I just got you back." Tears race down your cheeks as a sob racks through your entire body, you suck in a breath, trying to contain your pain.

This isn't fucking fair!

The old man hustles to your side, now made aware of the dire circumstances, "Ohhh, dear...Uh....we can take him to my house, if you will.....Just, keep him awake." Proposes the man, you hold Geralt closer, your wet cheeks glistening in the moonlight as your crimson eyes glow blood red.

"If you help me save him I won't end your pathetic life because of your stupidity!" You snap, making him flinch backwards as you glare at him, a low growl emitting from deep within your throat. If Geralt dies you might tear this man to shreds.

He quickly regains his bearings, now understanding that his life is at stake if Geralt dies under his care. The man walks around you, reaching down to pull Geralt from out of your lap. Once you're free he looks to you, "Miss he's quite heavy, this one. Could you lift his legs and help me carry him to...."

He's left with nothing but a genuinely bewildered look as you pick your sleeping Witcher up, holding him in both your arms while ignoring the mans shocked expression as you walk over to the large wooden cart. Setting Geralt in the back on a couple soft bags of goods.

Jumping in next to him, you kneel down by his side while the man quickly ties Roach to the back. It's going to be a long night. Until dawn broke out over the horizon, the great sun coating the land in daylight would you lay by his side as he slept through the multitude of hours.

Finally coming to in the late morning, looking more pale then usual and clearly disoriented, his golden irises trying so hard to focus on your blurry face. The man, who revealed himself to be Yurga, kept his horses at a fast trot while you continued to hold tightly onto your Witcher's arm, squeezing it every time he would begin to close his eyes. Just keep him awake.

"I don't know about you." Starts Yurga, "But I'm not liking the sound of those explosions in the distance....bloody Nilfgaard better keep themselves far away from here. We don't need trouble like that round these parts. Not after everything they've done."

Geralt stirs underneath your touch, snapping your attention back down to him, you watch as his eyelids open and close, his golden irises looking rather lost and hazy. He's so pale, too pale.

"Easy does it Butcher." Affirms Yurga as he turns his head to the side, "You got bit, best keep your sights trained on the pretty lady in front of you."

Geralt's brows furrow as he turns his own head to the side at the sound of the mans voice, confusion clear on his face since the poison from the ghouls has begun to mess with his mind. Seated closely on his right, his muscular arm on your left and his broad body on your right, his face is much more faded in color now. Too pale and sickly looking for your liking.

Reaching an arm out, you gently touch his face, turning his head back to you, "Geralt, keep those fine golden eyes on me, you gotta focus love....you're becoming delirious, but you're not dead. Just stay awake Geralt I'll be right here." He blinks hard, his face appearing dazed as he listens, suddenly trying to sit himself up.

You quickly react, leaning over him to grasp both his arms, stopping him from moving anymore, "Be still Geralt. You'll only make things worse if you try and move, your bite is spreading slowly but moving will only bring you more pain." His face grimaces in discomfort, you release your grip, sitting normally once again.

Oh Geralt, be strong for me.

Your face a mask of deep worry at his reaction, he may be a Witcher, but if his wounds are not treated properly he will die. Leaving you completely and utterly alone in this world whether you're ready for it or not. You rest a hand over his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heartbeat, he stares up at the sky, his gaze lost in the clouds.

You can tell he's probably watching some hallucination playing out before him, his gaze seems so far away while you sit here on this stupid hay covered cart pulled by the slowest two horses you've ever seen. He stirs again, his pale face trying to find yours as he focuses in on your worried appearance.

You can tell he's back, especially when his left arm quickly takes yours that was previously resting over his chest. He squeezes your hand, "My bag. Y/N I need my bag." His voice his gravelly and urgent, you quickly turn to look around, the pull of the cart jostling you while your eyes hunt for the bag.

"Yurga stop the fucking horses for a moment!" You yell, letting go of Geralt's hand as you grab the leather bag. Yurga directs his horses to stop, turning abruptly around to see what's the matter.

"The bottle....Y/N.....you know which one." Rasps Geralt as your eyes quickly find the small glass bottle containing some dark liquid, a type of healing potion for sure.

Handing the potion to your Witcher he hastily takes it, ripping off the cork with his teeth before making a face and chugging most of it. He groans, pouring the rest over his infected wound, more groans of pain sounding as you listen to the sizzle of flesh take to the healing mixture.

Gently patting his arm you hand him a small smile of reassurance, "You definitely need a healer, I'm afraid not even my blood can heal these wounds. Those fucking ghouls." You growl as Yurga urges his horses to begin trotting down the trail again.

His body rests against the piles of clothes and hay while his hand reaches out for yours, "I need to go to the Blue Mountains....Y/N...tell him I need to...." Mutters Geralt with tired eyes.

You squeeze his hand, "What? No, we don't have....you don't have enough time, Geralt you'll die."

"He'll heal me....I just need to go...."

"No!" You cry, there is absolutely no way you'd both make it to the Blue Mountains before his heart stops beating, "Stay awake you fucker, we'll heal you soon enough, just stay awake....we're almost to Yurga's farm. You'll get proper treatment there....just stay awake."

Until the sun would set and the darkness of night crept over the land would you constantly play as an ever continuous jostling annoyance to Geralt, doing all that you must to keep him awake and alive. Soon enough would Yurga have to stop and let his old horses rest for awhile. In the meantime, you'd help Geralt to lean against a tree as you went off in search of healing plants that could help to temporarily stop the spread.

With not much to give from your herb hunting, you walked forth from out of the bushes and into the grassy tree covered opening where you're greeted with the sight of a dark-red haired mage tending to your Witcher's infected bite wound. You immediately freeze, though she's too focused to even realize that you're watching her work. For a couple minutes would you observe her talents before blinking once and suddenly she's gone. Just like that, gone.

Well that was fucking bizarre.

Suddenly Geralt bolts upright, your brows furrow as he looks all around him, his wide eyes shifting right and left until they finally find your familiar form walking closer. He lets out an audible sigh of relief, before his grey brows furrow once again in thought.

"Where'd she go? The woman?" He wonders, confusion clear on his face as he watches you crouch down to meet his eye level.

You raise a brow, "Can't say I'd know, but I wish I'd have time to thank her for doing whatever magical mage shit she did to your infected bite mark." You reply with a chuckle, "Now you've gotten yourself a new scar added to the collection. Though still a very handsome work of art in my humble opinion."

His face softens at your relaxed tone, suddenly realizing that there's no need to worry anymore, "Thank you Y/N."

You laugh, "What for? I didn't do that much, I didn't even know how to properly heal you. And I definitely wasn't planning on turning you into a vampire just to have you around longer."

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as you study his face, "For keeping me awake this long, no matter how much I wanted to shove you off the wagon."

"I knew you wanted to do it, I could see it in your face. That is, when you weren't staring off into nothing like a lost boy who had too many special herbs." You jest, earning a pleasing chuckle from your sweaty Witcher. You smile, "Now. Come on my love, let's go." You reach a hand out for him to take, without a second thought he accepts, letting you pull him to his feet.

He shakes his head, steadying himself as he holds your arms, "Geralt you're acting like you've just downed half a dozen mugs of ale, lets rest on the cart yeah? Yurga will take us to his farm where we can get some proper food and drink, and if we're lucky....you some new pants."

His smile is soft as he looks down at you, Geralt touches your chin affectionately, "That sounds rather lovely."

Before he can do anything else you grasp the hand that's touching your chin, "I know exactly where your mind is going next and all I have to say is you're getting a bit more cleaned up before those pretty lips of yours are allowed to kiss me." He closes his eyes, resting his head against yours as he releases his hand from your chin. Now pulling you closer with his large strong hands.

"I could have died." He mutters, his gravely voice laced with a friendly playfulness.

"But you didn't."

"I could have."

"I know." You finally sigh, "You're still sweaty and smell like a dog who rolled in cow shit."

He lightly chuckles, "That's rude." Before pressing a feather light kiss onto your forehead where he then pulls away after a moment, "Guess we should help the old man pack the rest of his bags away."

Gripping his torso tighter you lean in close, "I'm enjoying myself too much." You admit, "Even though you smell rather atrocious at the moment."

"Oh please Y/N." Muses Geralt, his face inches from yours, "You still called be pretty when I was covered head to toe in Selkiemore guts, if I do recall."

"Did I? Must have slipped." You mutter lowly, brushing your lips past his.

"Y/N." Warns Geralt, his hot breath fanning over your smirking face as your ruby irises flicker from his plush lips to his golden eyes.

"On second thought. Perhaps you do look rather lovely at the moment, I think I'll just have to..." He's left guessing what you would have said next as your lips press firmly against his, both your arms pulling one another even closer now. Despite all he's just endured, Geralt tastes quite nice, his muscular body feeling even better holding you so close.

His lips move with yours in some pleasurable heated dance, soon enough does his calloused hands reach up to place themselves on either side of your face, you smile into the kiss at his urgency to hold you close. A couple more lingering blissful moments are shared flush against one another before your Witcher inevitably pulls away, first pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your lips once again before finally pulling away to look into your glistening eyes.

His hands still gently holding your cheeks, while your own ones grip around his forearms, "I hope there's more of that for when we find a tavern later." You muse, biting your lip as Geralt's eyes stare deeply into yours.

"Y/N. I'll let you take me any way you want." Mutters Geralt in that low and gravelly voice of his, "Just me and you."

"I think I'd like that very much." His lips find yours once again as your fingers trail down his back, wishing so hard that you were both laying on a soft warm bed in some hidden tavern in the mountains.

While you're both unbashfully exploring each others bodies like it was the first time, a sudden cough is heard from behind you causing the two of you to abruptly pull apart and look in that direction, "Uh...don't mean to intrude, but uh.....could we get moving if ya both don't mind?" Asks Yurga politely, trying not to find either of your amused gazes as he looks at a stick on the ground.

Right, you'd probably want to get out of the woods first.

The merchant Yurga had been true to his word, he had finally at long last made it to his home placed in a great clearing within the woods. A comfortable farmhouse on an open spot of land away from the fighting and battles nearby. His cart came to an abrupt halt as his wife quickly opened up the door and raced out to meet him, excitement flowing through her veins as a huge smile graced her face.

"We're all okay. The war is close, but we're okay. I need to tell you something." Exclaims Yurga's blonde curly haired wife.

"Me too." Affirms the older man with a slight thrill lacing his words.

His wife smiles, "I met a girl. An orphan, I found her in the woods nearby." Geralt halts all movement at the startling words, you doing the same as both of your furrowed gazes find one another.

No way this is who you think she's actually talking about. Hundreds of girls have been orphaned by the war.

"I met a Witcher." Speaks Yurga with a nod, "And a dhampir, if you'll believe it." Without warning Geralt jumps down from the cart and begins walking towards the woods much to your confusion, "They saved my life. Now fetch 'em some ale before they go to Kaer Mor-somthing." Urges Yurga, while you jump down from the cart, making hasty steps in Geralt's direction as Yurga and his wife finally look over to watch as the two of you make for the woods, "Hey, Butcher. Butcher! Where you goin'?" Shouts Yurga as Geralt continues onward, almost caught in a trance as he ignores the rambling merchant.

"Y/N?" Shouts the older man, causing you to stop and turn to him, "Where you two goin'?"

Your brows furrow, not completely sure of yourself, "I don't know." You whisper, keeping your body still as you look out at the thick greenery where Geralt had just wandered into for some unknown reason. You can't explain why, but you feel as though this is a path that only he must take.

The girl in the woods will be with him always.

He walks through the forest, his feet taking him somewhere or rather to someone who's been hiding from him for a long time. He can't even fully explain it, the call he feels to find what he's seeking. He suddenly stops, thinking his thoughts must be false and this urge to find who lingers in the wood is simply horseshit as per usual. A false sense of destiny. He turns around, walking a couple steps further back the way he came before an undeniable urge to look back consumes him.

The girl in the woods will be with you always.

And there she is, Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a shining beacon of hope in the dull wet gloom of the towering forest.

Destiny has prevailed.

Your boots shift from right to left as you stand idly in the morning air, your thoughts swimming around in your head of what could be taking Geralt so damn long, even if it's only realistically been about three minutes. Your new friends from behind you have instead left you to yourself and decided to tend to their horses, much to your relief.

Hugging yourself closer, you shiver, though you're not cold. A kind of magic of sorts seems to catch you in the misty air, a feeling you haven't felt since that night at Pavetta's banquet pulls around you like leaves on the wind.

How odd it feels, yet this seems right.

Two heartbeats reach your heightened ears, one so slow. But the other, beats normally like that of a child's.

You take a step back, steadying yourself as you wait for who you're expecting to inevitably appear. Shoes move across earth and leaves, signaling their close arrival. Your nerves die as two shadows emerge from the bushes and into the sunlight, the two of them are talking, unaware of your presence in the yard.

The child suddenly looks, her enchanted blue green irises falling onto you as she quickly comes to a halt, her eyes full of wonder and nervous apprehension. Geralt's brows furrow as he stops as well, his face turning to find the source of the girls fear.

His golden eyes spot you in an instant, he finds you staring curiously at the small blonde girl, the tiniest of smiles gracing your lips as you fiddle with your hands. You can't help but feel ridiculous for how you've been feeling about meeting this Child Surprise after so long, she is just a girl, a survivor of the unspeakable. Though you may not be the best with children in general, you feel no ill will against this one, all those previous feelings of loathing and judgement are gone to the wind.

Geralt's eyes are kind as he gently rests a comforting hand over her thin shoulder, she looks to him now then back to you as he speaks, "This is Y/N of Alkatraz, the dhampir princess of the High Northern Kingdom. My uh, lover?" He says cautiously, a bit unsure of what to truly call you before he thankfully finds his words, "Well...uh, my immortal companion, and someone who I love very deeply."

Oh, Geralt you adorable idiot.

Ciri's brows furrow in thought for a moment as she finds her courage, "My grandmother told me of that kingdom, she said it is ruled by vampires. Are you one?" She wonders, her voice a small nervous whisper.

The corners of your eyes crinkle in amusement as you smile, shaking your head, "No my dear princess, I am of that blood and character, but a dhampir is what I am as Geralt said. It's someone who is half vampire and half human." You assure the small girl, "No need to fear me, I promise you princess that I would never harm you in any way, you have my word."

A small grin tugs at the corners of her lips before her eyes fall downcast, "That's very kind, most people I've met so far out here have tried to kill me." She hands you the flash of a smile, "Glad to know not everyone is like them." She reveals freely to you with her small voice, so this is truly the Child Surprise.

The princess of Cintra.

"With us, you will not have to fear the damned talons of Nilfgaard Princess Cirilla...I will protect you with my life now."

Her brows furrow in thought at your truthful words, "You know of me? But how?"

You smile kindly, your scarlet irises flashing over to Geralt for a brief moment, "I have traveled with this handsome Witcher for almost fifty years, I know everything he knows. Even who you are." You take a couple steps forward, kneeling down to face her sad eyes, "And I am truly sorry for your loss, no child deserves the pain and fear you have endured since Cintra's fall. No less the horrors you have witnessed since your escape, these lands are undoubtedly deadly."

"Thank you, Y/N." She looks from you to Geralt, "I'm glad to have found you both then." You smile, standing up fully to lace your arm with Geralt's.

"Now, I think these kind people here may have breakfast waiting for us and some ale if I'm lucky, so my small friend Ciri, would you join us for a decently peaceful morning?" Ciri gifts your ears with a small giggle as Geralt hums in amusement. Proud that you're taking so well to the newest addition to your group of two.

You turn around just as the curly haired woman waves, "Would you all mind joining us for breakfast?" She calls out as a satisfied grin breaks out upon your face, "Of course we would be delighted!" You shout back, probably with too much excitement but you're trying to look as non threatening as possible. Also you are admittedly very hungry.

The three of you begin walking toward the farmhouse, Ciri follows the woman and her husband inside as Geralt stops near the entrance, you turn a raised brow to him, "What is it now? You planning on finding another magical orphan in the woods again?"

He looks down at the muddy ground before finding your lingering gaze once again, "No, just trying to figure out what to do next." Grumbles your Witcher in that lovable gravely voice of his.

You gently squeeze his hand as a smirk plays at your lips, "How bout we think of breakfast first? Then we can set our sights on paying our friends at Kaer Morhen a little visit. Bet they'd love that." You add sarcastically, wiggling your brows.

Your Witcher finally gives you a small smile, "Oh, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you again." He jests.

Lightly smacking his arm you take a step into the doorway, turning back to look at him, "What? Am I not nice and lovable? Can't believe you'd even say that."

"Only when you want to be." Mutters Geralt before gently kissing the side of your head while walking past you, "Now lets get some ale."

-

Tagged:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[whitefawnn]

blood letting (part 6)

c!wilbur soot x reader

warnings: manipulation, blood, physical fighting, panic attack, dissociation

masterlist of blood letting

note: read the warnings

“fuck.” he muttered. Y/n always right there for him, and what the fuck was he, a parasite stuck to their neck? He suddenly jumped to his feet, realizing what the conversation had meant. Words not worth feeling pity over for y/n was going to talk to Dream.

——��-

I stormed through the halls, listening for sounds of rustling, of life. The sound of my blood rushing seemed to be far too present in my ears. I made my way to where I had last seen Dream last night, and I heard the sound of unfolding paper from a nearby room. A blood red carpet leading me to the slaughter. I quickly walked to the sound, posture held high, I needed to know my purpose if this was going to go well, if this was going to go at all.

“What a nice surprise.” Dream purred out looking up from the map he was studying on the large meeting table. His posture is always that of a predator’s, always waiting for you to slip up. The paper extended over almost the entire table, my eyes torn to look at the large crater that was almost dead in the center. “that’s l’manberg, you know. Just a crater, a fucking sad hole is all your revolution added up to.” I squinted my eyes at him, furrowing my brow. The words a new scar torn open to bleed the sickly blood of regret. He lowly chuckled in response, leaning over to create more red marks over the map, a mess of arrows and lines that meant nothing to me but somehow still seemed at least a bit unsettling.

“Always the charmer, Dream.” I said walking further into the room. I took a deep breath, settling my nerves that seemed to endlessly build in my chest. “Anyway, I need to talk to you,” he quickly snapped his head up to bare into me “Wilbur, he- he won’t speak up, but-“ he tilted his head. I felt myself pause, consider.

“but you will?” he said with a honeyed voice. The taste was too sweet on my tongue. Dream trailed around the table closer to me “you? will?” he questioned with arrogance in his voice, pointing a finger at my chest. The mask left his expression unreadable, his imposing posture making the hairs on my arms raise. was being belittled, pushed aside.

“y-yes.” I stuttered, he leaned forward as I clumsily stumbled back, losing ground in an already fruitless fight. “yes, I will, Dream.” I took a breath, shaking the anxieties from my head “You can’t hurt those people, I don’t care about your stupid fucking revenge. You’re out of the prison, Dream, get the fuck away from them and just fucking leave.” He stood taller now, his mask slightly chipped and looming over me. He seemed like a man who could blow out the sun's light. “Go fucking terrorize other people, leave them alone. Please,” I wanted to plead, to beg “you already got what you want.” Then suddenly he burst out into laughter, loud and disruptive.

“What a joke, you and your bold ideas, darling.” he once again leaned closer to me. His hand covered with a fingerless glove, he caressed my cheek. The touch a burning heat. “So pretty to be so fucking stupid” he spat with clear disdain. “and to think when I let Wilbur bring you, I thought you’d just be dead weight, a pain, but god you’re fucking worse.” He circled around me now, like an animal finally finding their prey. “I’m going to fucking slaughter them, y/n. If you are lucky, you won’t get caught up in it.”

—————-

Wilbur bounded up the red carpeted stairs, his heart beating in his throat. He muttered to himself, a silent prayer that y/n would be okay, a prayer that they would forgive him for his hesitance, a prayer that this waking nightmare would end. He didn’t want to be a coward, he didn’t want to be anything less than what y/n needed. He searched every room with wild eyes and shaky hands. A crazed man looking for the fix.

“Why the fuck is this fucking building so big?” he said running through each room. He pushed back his hair with an exasperated sigh. The white streak splitting the muddy brown like a strike of lighting “where are you?”

A loud thud resonated from the ground above him, opening a pit in his stomach.

——————-

“you won’t- you can’t-“ he shook his head, dismissing me. I scoured for what to do, shifting the weight on my feet. Ideas falling through like water through cupped hands. “If you don’t get the fuck away from the dream SMP,, Wilbur and I, we- we-“

“You’ll what, princess? Get your precious lover boy locked up. You don’t want that AND dead friends do you?” he sing songed, everything a taunt to make this game all the more fun for him. I was a mouse merely caught in his trap.

“Dream,” I mumbled, my voice wavering, I knew I wouldn’t be able to trust my voice but still I tried. Tried to speak, to say something. I came up here with the idea to lose a life, but maybe I hadn’t weighed that heavily enough. Weighed what it meant to its full capacity, a knife through the heart.

“y/n,” he purred back once again. Dream then slowly lifted his hastily made mask revealing his marred face and pushing back his matted hair in the process. I stared at him with wide eyes as he smirked down at me. His face one crafted of cracked marble. “You’ve always been so enticing, y/n, but always so fucking idiotic.” he sneered at me leaning even closer. His hot breath fanning across my face. “Part of the insistent thorn in my side, with your silly revolution, your stupid dotting over Wilbur.” My breaths began to be ragged “You got these puppy dog eyes, princess, these big puppy eyes.” He reached up to rub his thumb under my eye, I violently flinched back with a yelp. He quickly pulled me back towards him.

“Dream, please, I just-“ I couldn’t force the words out. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just wanted my friends to be safe from the insidious man.

“Please what, puppy” he tilted my head up with a finger under my chin.

“I just want them to be okay-“ he swiftly slapped the cheek he had formerly been caressing, I cried out, bringing my hand to my face. I whimpered as he pushed me to the ground. My arm landing hard against the dark floorboards. Pain bloomed like clarity.

“useless,” he tched walking back over to the map to continue his work. I crawled over to press myself against the wall. The cool wood taking my back. My head began to spin again, a comfortable feeling really. The world becoming a wash of color, not misplaced feelings. I wanted to let go, give into the waves of pain that resonated from my arm. I lowly whined. A plea left unanswered as the wolf spoke with a low timber. “you stay right there, princess.” I let myself fall away.

—————-

“-princess” the nickname made Wilbur feel sick, the tone pushing the feeling further. He heard lightning crack, an angry blow. He walked into the wide open room to see Dream hunched over a table, fervently writing on a large map. The world laid out before him staring expectantly.

“Dream, where is y/n?” Wilbur pressed, Dream simply chuckled to himself, the mask once again placed over his face.

“right there,” he pointed to them, not lifting his head from the map “not that you should care.” he drew quiet, Wilbur looked down at y/n’s collapsed form, one of their cheeks a bright angry red. His feet were glued to the ground, “They don’t respect you, Wilbur, maybe you should treat them just the same, you know treat others how you wish to be treated.” Wilbur craned his head to look at Dream, his mask now unturned to look back. “they made their choice, coming up here to fucking complain.” Dream’s voice was laced with venom, each word a painful bite.

“and what do you suggest I do then,” Wilbur inquired, eyes still glued to them. A body that seemed to be everything in the moment. He watched as they shallowly breathed, a light bruise beginning to form under their right eye. Purple that stained like wine.

“get them out of here, then come back and we can do what we need to,” he chuckled, “without,” he paused, “distraction.” Wilbur leaned down, gently scooping y/n up in his arms. They lowly groaned, their face contorting to one of pain. He winced right back. “You do still need blood though hmm,” Wilbur turned to see Dream looking up at him. The mention of the substance making him feel woozy. “Maybe take some, I’m sure they’ll understand.” he seemed to coo the words, each one more unsettling. The implication making y/n’s weight heavier in his arms.

Wilbur gave a curt nod, focusing on not revealing his thoughts on the matter. He kept his body relaxed, his face expressionless. He let himself hide the growing storm, y/n deserves an umbrella from the pouring rain. He proceeded to leave the room without a word. Finding his way to the horses still tied up in the front, he took off.

“thank god you didn’t die.” he whispered to y/n “I’m gonna fix this, I promise.” he didn’t receive a reply. Only silence that barred into him solidifying guilt.

[fullsunalicia]

May I request a werewolf au for jaemin please?🥺👉🏻👈🏻 I’m a sucker for supernatural aus and your writing ‘s are extraordinary!! I absolutely love them! So please?🥺🥺

destiny — NJM

you’re not close with na jaemin, but you know plenty of rumors to give you a vivid expectation. so when he starts courting you, you’re not sure if you can believe him. you learn, though, that it’s so hard to resist a womanizer when he’s as charming as jaemin, and is destined to be yours forever.

jesus christ na jaemin is too pretty to handle. look at that gif omg / hello love! thank you so much for your kind words. i’m glad i can please someone with my writing 🥺 i hope you enjoy wolf jaemin

werewolf!jaemin x witch!reader / college au

Temptation is a sin. So is Na Jaemin.

There’s just that hazy air around him that makes everyone look again. Too gorgeous to be real, and yet he’s standing here, gifting you with a smile that knocks the air right out of you. God’s favorite, falling from heaven. That’s how you’d describe the stunning boy who has been trying for the past few weeks to convince you to go on a date with him.

His face may seem innocent, but the glint in his eye says anything but. You have heard about the many girls, how the shards of their hearts form a trail behind him. Jaemin is easy to please, but hard to keep. Attention is a precious thing, time is money. In his case, time is pleasure. A pretty face may lure him in, but nothing ever makes him stay.

And yet he’s been chasing you for a month now. The first to pick you up from your locker, a freshly brewed coffee in hand just for you. For someone that walks the earth as a god in a human body, Na Jaemin shouldn’t bother to learn your coffee orders by heart. He shouldn’t be the one making you laugh out loud in your least favorite classes and he should not be making the effort to make your heart skip.

Love is discardable, recycable. Never long-term. That’s what Jaemin says. So why is he sitting here, pouting, because you’re denying him the affection he so desperately craves? There are thousands of girls who’d kill to take your place. It drives you insane to be kept in the dark - you want to crack the wolf boy’s head open and look inside, cast a spell on him and make him spill his guts.

Nobody can know you’re a witch. Especially not Na Jaemin, part of the wolf pack that despises your kind. Everybody knows the stories, of Mark Lee and the woman he gave his heart to, cursed by a witch’s envy. That’s why you stay quiet and endure Jaemin’s flirting, and the only reason you resort to investigate the human way.

“What are you doing here, Nana? Be honest.”

Jaemin furrows his brows. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean, baby?” The nickname falls so easily from his lips. It feels just right, because why wouldn’t you be his baby? Who would pass up the chance to taste the honey dripping from his lips, the lies he speaks that taste like bitter-sweet candy? You’ve met plenty of guys who play hearts like a particularly interesting game of cards, but never have you seen someone like Jaemin. Love is like a lottery to him, and you’re the billion dollar prize - the way he treats you makes you feel like the most precious thing in the world, of undescribable worth. You know Jaemin is affectionate with everyone, and yet it makes your heart burst when he cradles your waist like it’s fine china. Carefully. Respectfully. To him, you’re art. Sadly, he’s not a critic - only the collector.

You let him rub his cheek against your stomach as if he’s a needy cat. There’s no use stopping him, since Jaemin gets the attention he desires one way or another. It should make you feel sick. And yet you only pray that he continues playing this game of push and pull, hope that he keeps trying. You’re a masochist, an addict. Na Jaemin is your fix.

The sunlight frames Jaemin’s face like a halo when he leans back and smiles at you. This is the face of Michelangelo’s David, the perfect reincarnation of Adonis. His looks are surreal. Like cut-out diamonds, Jaemin’s jawline seems sharp, but is soft to the touch. Beauty in controversy. Lust and virtue in one. Any angel at the gates to heaven would rip their hair out of trying to sort Jaemin - too gorgeous for hell, too sinful to stay in paradise. “Go bother someone else,” you mumble, desperately trying to break the spell you’re under. Na Jaemin makes you dizzy, and he knows. “I bet Haechan’s going to cuddle you. So go, shoo!”

“I don’t want Haechan.” A loud yelp is tugged out of you when Jaemin tugs you down to sit next to him, and in the next second you’re being embraced. Strong arms curl around your body, holding you close, hiding you away from the world. The most wonderful feeling in the world. “I want you.”

Love has never treated you right. Several nights have been wasted on boys and their white lies, on let-down crushes and unrequited feelings. Maybe it’s because you’re a witch, and bad luck follows you everywhere.

Just for once in your life, you want to be treated like a princess. You want Jaemin to look at you and see everything he ever dreamt of coming true. But that’s impossible. You know it very well.

That’s why you untangle yourself, sad smile on your lips, sorrow weighing heavy on your heart. Love is for girls that aren’t afraid to fall. “Sorry, but no,” you tell Jaemin, and tears prick at your eyes when you stand up and walk away.

You will never fall again.

— ❦ —

Sadness tastes like cheap raspberry vodka and salty tears. Atleast that’s what your intoxicated brain thinks it is, as you lean your head against the bathtub and close your eyes in an attempt to drown out all the loud music outside. It’s not like you to get wasted beyond control, but it’s hard to look at Kwon Eunbin’s face and say no when she begs you to take a shot with her. And another one. And another one after that.

Did it matter to Eunbin that you don’t like alcohol that tastes like disinfectant? No, of course not. Your best friend’s only job is to get you drunk and make you forget about your stupid infatuation with a certain blueberry-haired boy. Rosé wine and cocktails are long forgotten the second Eunbin takes you into the kitchen and makes you play drinking games against the frat brothers living here. Now it’s landed you in the only free bathroom inside this house, while Eunbin is searching for some water for you.

Not like she’s too drunk to take care of even herself right now. You’d bet fifty dollars she‘s already forgotten about you because someone lured her to a beer pong table. It’s alright, you forgive her. But it’s not that nice to sit in the bathroom and ponder over the meaning of your existence alone. Your conclusion of what sorrow tastes like isn’t that deep, but it’s the perfect description of the miserable shape you’re in right now. Who the hell even drinks raspberry vodka? It tastes nothing like that. It’s just drinkable bleach that your stomach barely handles.

And yet it’s enough to numb out the butterflies Na Jaemin brings to life inside you. When you close your eyes, his laughter rings in your ears, as if he’s right here with you. The sound is pleasant, calming. Like good music to a trained ear. This is what happiness would sound like if it were a noise. No matter how Jaemin treats love interests, he’s a good person at heart. That’s what makes it so hard to get over that stupid infatuation. It’s impossible to forget about his advances when all you can think about is him volunteering at a shelter and secretly adopting rescue kittens, because his best friend loves them. You think of the adorable smile on his lips when he’s suprised with his favorite snack, and how he gushes love declarations to his friends just because they thought about him. His kindness to strangers. His loyalty to the pack.

Na Jaemin. End of sentence. That’s it.

Perfection is unattainable, a ridiculous concept. You know that, and you still think it’s the only word to properly grasp Jaemin’s personality.

The vodka is doing a bad job from getting your mind off him. You groan, moving to hide your face in your hands. Is the room spinning or is that just you giving out on reality?

“(y/n)?”

It’s not Eunbin. When you look up, you lock eyes with Lee Jeno. It’s heartwarming how concerned he looks, even if you don’t talk that often. You’re only acquiantances. Despite that, Jeno moves to sit down beside you, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright?” he asks, voice quiet. You strain to even hear him properly, booming trap music making the house rumble.

It’s ridiculous, but your inebriated brain doesn’t even think about worrying about yourself. Grinning, you point at the boy’s blonde locks, tousled and curled. His girlfriend liked to play around with his hair often. It’s cute he lets her style it. “Since when’s your hair dyed?” You drawl out. Your tongue feels weirdly heavy, as if it’s not supposed to be there. Something makes you want to bite down, but the very small part of you that’s still sober screams not to do it. “Last time I saw you, it was still black. Did your girl do that?”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound, but it’s not like Jaemin. It doesn’t make your heart skip several beats and stutter like a broken record. “You’re about to pass out in our bathroom and yet you ask me about my hair?”

“Yeah. It looks really, really cool. I didn’t think any other hair color would suit you, but now that I see it, I dig it. Good job to the hair dresser.”

“Thanks.” Jeno chuckles, and then he helps you sit up. The many shots took their time to hit you, but now they all mess with you at once. Thankfully, you have a very good friend who keeps you up. “I’ll pass it along. But first, can I get you some water? Do you want to lay down? There’s a spare room downstairs because Renjun’s out of the house right now.”

Fear suddenly floods your senses. Eunbin hasn’t returned, and you don’t want to be left alone again. If Jeno goes now, you’ll probably start crying from the amount of overthinking you’ve been up to. “Don’t leave, please,” you plead Jeno. He pets your hair, like you’re some sort of cat. It’s strangely enjoyable.

“(y/n), you need some other drink besides alcohol. You’re going to have the biggest hangover otherwise.”

Oh, there is no way to avoid that. If Jeno knew how much you had downed this evening ... But you don’t tell him, instead shaking your head. “Don’t wanna be alone. ‘M sad.”

Jeno cocks his head. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t read, unfathomable. Like this, he somehow looks younger. You wonder if cocking his head is a habit he picked up from being a wolf, but asking that would be weird. The man seated infront of you takes the decision out of your hands. “You want me to get Jaemin?”

You don’t know what possesses you, but you nod instantly. Moving on instinct, of course. The second Jaemin is mentioned, your fears settle. Your heart calms down. What is it about that name that makes you feel so much at home?

“Okay,” Jeno breathes out. He squeezes your shoulder one last time, before standing up and leaving the bathroom. Time seems to pass so slowly. Being in a bathroom drunk always feels like staying in an alternate dimension. It’s just God and you now, no matter if you’re religious or not. It’s an unwritten rule.

Your audience with a deity doesn’t last long, though it feels like eternity. When the door opens again, Jaemin enters, the door clicking into the lock as he closes it. “Baby,” he laughs. How dare he mock your misery? “I didn’t even know you drink at parties.”

Your actions are out of your control the second Jaemin settles beside you. Without hesitation, you move to climb on his lap, arms moving around his waist and keeping him there. This is fine. This is okay. He wouldn’t mind, right?

For a moment, Jaemin tenses below you. In that split second, you think rationally again. Maybe you had crossed a boundary. You should’ve asked before initiating this. What the hell were you thinking? But Jaemin bows over you, and then your mind just blanks. You get lost in the way he embraces you, strong body hiding away yours as he buries his face in your hair and breathes in deeply. Jaemin is warm, like a furnace beneath your touch. Wolves tend to run a little warmer than normal people. The boy in your arms seems to burn you, and yet you wouldn’t move away for a single thing in the world. You’re perfectly content with where you are.

If this is what loving Jaemin feels like, you think that the pain to be endured is worth it. This feels like your own personal heaven. Soft lips meeting the shell of your ear. Whispered compliments. Someone chuckling alongside with you when you comment sarcastically. The universe comes to a halt whenever you’re with this wolf, whether that’s a good thing or not. You don’t want to know. You want to stay like this forever.

“Still with me, baby?”

“Mhm.” You hum, repositioning yourself on his lap. Sadly, he leans away when you lock your arms around his neck, laughing at the whine you let out at that. He’s really enjoying seeing you suffer today. Maybe this is why his friends beat him up all the time. You’ve seen their play fights, both in human and wolf form. “Tired.”

Where Jaemin’s hands meet the exposed skin of your waist, the butterflies come back to life. You weren’t able to drown them, no matter how much vodka you drank. “Did someone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re wasted?” he mumbles, tugging you closer. Your breath hitches when his chest meets yours. He smiles. “Now I need to follow you like a guard dog at every party so nobody else gets to see this. I’d get too jealous.”

“Don’t worry,” you mutter. A hiccup makes you jump on top of him, and you miss the way Jaemin silently groans at that. “Nobody wants me, anyway.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Surely, this would make him stop chasing after you, and now you’ll have to learn how to survive every day without the wolf boy making you feel better with his words. The reassurance he showers you with. The many thumbs-ups, his constant encouragement. Though, now that you think about it - this is the longest Jaemin has ever put up with a girl. Is he humoring you? Did he know about what he made bloom inside your chest, and is hoping you choke on the petals?

When you look up, the wolf’s eyes are in disbelief, almost enraged. It’s a reaction that you didn’t expect, sobering you up just a little. “Is that what you think?” he inquires, the underlying tone in his voice deadly. You gulp. “(y/n), you must know about the many guys standing in line behind me. Are you unaware of all the attention that you draw to yourself? How stunning you are?”

The words tug at your heartstrings. Still, you tell him, “It’s never made anyone stay.”

It’s the truth, a truth he’s going to confirm himself. Na Jaemin can’t be held down. He’s the fleeting warm wind kissing your skin, the sun breaking through the thunder clouds to save your day. He’s not meant to be there forever. Witches don’t run with wolves.

You’d give it all up for him. The spells, the magic, the spirits. Toss everything away to offer Jaemin the world. But Jaemin has galaxies inside his soul, and the universe inside his eyes.

What would he want with your world?

Jeno coughs awkwardly when he enters. It’s the only comment he lets slip about the position you’re both in, instead kneeling down to offer you the glass. The water’s freezingly cold, but you gulp it all down, heart soaring at Jaemin’s praise. Both wolves briefly talk about what’s going on downstairs, and you yawn. Jaemin’s head snaps to yours. Seconds later, you’re lifted off the ground.

“Jaemin!”

Jeno laughs at your shocked squeal. He turns off the lights in the bathroom while you’re carried out, and you lose sight of him as Jaemin brings you to bed. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. You just want to sleep. Forget about this conversation, deal with the problem later. In the morning, you’d let your heart be crushed by the boy who was never yours. And then you’ll have to learn how to survive that.

Jaemin sets you down on a soft bed. His hands cup your cheeks, thumbs swiping over your cheekbones. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says. His tone offers no room for discussion. So you nod obediently, and hug him. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but something just keeps urging you to. To feed into the addiction that is Na Jaemin. The more you consume, the more hooked you get. He just laughs when you kiss his cheek, lets you tug him down so he hovers over you. “Stop acting cute. You’re still in trouble.”

“Okay.” You kiss his other cheek. His eyes slip closed when you dishevel his hair, tugging at the locks in an affectionate manner. The color suits him.

You don’t know why you’re feeling this way. The flutter of your heart is a foreign feeling, as weird as the sadness you feel when Jaemin moves away from you. You’re not ready yet, not able to face the flood. You grip his shirt, your legs wound tightly around your waist. The immense wish for him to lay down beside you makes you feel lightheaded.

“(y/n),” Jaemin groans, but he still hides his face in the crook of your neck. You’re aware he can hear your heart racing at his actions, but you can’t find yourself to care. All that matters is that he’s here. You sigh in content when the wolf kisses his way up your throat, dangerously close to your jaw. “Acting cute is not gonna save you.”

You shrug.

The room is dimmed, so you can’t see the look on his face. “Stop,” he deadpans. “I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk. Be a good girl.”

“Will you kiss me, then?”

“When you’re sober and still willing.”

You tighten your grip on his shirt. “Okay. That’s a promise, right? Because otherwise, I’ll get really, really, really upset...”

You wish he wouldn’t tease you by pressing a kiss to your cheeks. You can’t see him, but you know he’s grinning. You just know. He’s Na Jaemin. “Be a good girl,” he repeats. “And in the morning, you’ll get a reward.”

— ❦ —

Your head feels like it’s been split apart. Someone’s punching holes into your temples, and you wince when you move. This is the reason you never drink high-percentage alcohol. It messes you up so much more than your trusted wine.

The bed you slept in feels empty without a body to hold you warm. It smells like your favorite wolf, but you know for a fact he hasn’t been in this room once after you fell asleep. He wouldn’t do anything without your consent. Especially when you’re under the influence. You long for another hug, but once you realize what you’re feeling, you freeze. Everything from yesterday comes rushing back.

“Oh my stars,” you murmur.

Embarrassment feels very hot, and somehow chilling at the same time. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks, your face turning into a heating pack for the hands that move to cover them. You rarely allow yourself to get so intoxicated in public. So why’d it have to happen in near proximity of Jaemin, so you can mess up and spill your secrets?

There’s still a reward to claim, though. You were promised something, and you intend to get what you are owed as a last goodbye. Before Jaemin shifts his attention and forgets about you, as if you were a star in the sky dying and leaving nothing behind but dust. You can still feel his hands on you, the touch imprinted into skin and soul. Many boys had gripped you with the sole intent of using you to their own gain, but Jaemin had held you like you were the most valuable thing in his life. A treasure. A blessing. With just a few soothing words, this wolf had managed to fill the cracks in your heart with his appreciatiation. It’s not enough to make you believe in love, but it’s enough to finally return your bravery to you. So you can finally step over the edge and fall, to surrender to another person. Your heart is battered and bruised, but you’d give it to him without hesitation.

Life isn’t meant to be spent dreading everything. You’ll regret choosing pain over caution, but it’s better than rotting away alone. There is no way to look past all the beautiful things life has to offer. It gave you Jaemin, even if it was for a little while. In his smile, you see the honesty you’ve been craving all your life from other people. His touch makes you forget about the men who treated you like their servant and not the queen they were supposed to worship. When Jaemin listened, you remembered what it felt like to be taken seriously. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to reject you. Anyone who makes you realize your worth again is a person worth let in. So you slip out of bed and start searching for him.

You’re still owed a kiss.

The house is littered with plastic cups and empty bottles. A peek into the many rooms reveals sleeping pack members and girlfriends, and some friends scattered over the couches in the living room. You can’t find Jaemin anywhere, so you head to the kitchen. Maybe he’s already preparing breakfast?

Mark Lee is seated at the kitchen table.

He sits there, looking like he was waiting for you. Perhaps he was. He’s a supernatural creature, blessed with heightened senses and perfect hearing. Your little footsteps must have sounded like booming fireworks to him. The rumors made him out to be a scary person, and if he wasn’t looking at you with such a blank face, you’d be willing to overlook them and call him cute. But it’s not a boy staring you straight in the face; it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Mark doesn’t speak for a long time. His eyes wander over your appearance, your body still clad in the outfit from yesterday. The house had been too hot several moments ago, but now you feel like shuddering. Nothing is more terrifying than looking someone in the face and being aware of much they loathe you.

There’s no other explanation for the glare etched into his face. No other reason for him to despise you, even though this is the first time he ever saw you. He knows. Knows about the powers you carry in your blood, the very same ones someone else used to curse his girlfriend. The story is widely known, almost a myth, if it weren’t for the many people that watched her collapse straight into Mark’s arms as her veins turned black. A forbidden spell, and yet it was used in broad daylight.

Mark hums. It would’ve sounded nice, if it weren’t so ominous. “Jaemin’s gone to the bakery,” he says, voice cold and void of politeness. This man can’t stand the sight of you. Honestly, if you were in his place, you wouldn’t be able to either. “He told me about having a girl sleeping over. Someone he likes. Someone who’s been toying with his feelings.”

Your throat closes up. You don’t like where this is going.

He pushes away the empty cup he clutched, revealing the claws extending from the tips of his fingers. You try to remind yourself that he can’t control it, that he’s just angry. It’s hard to do when everything inside you screams for you to run away.

The table creaks loudly when Mark leans on it. You can see the sharp nails more clearly now, deadly to the touch. “He didn’t tell me it was a witch,” the wolf continues, as if he wasn’t aware of how much he’s scaring you. “Though that clearly explains why you’re breaking his heart and enjoying it. All you witches can do is destroy and demolish. Is that why you sent us the vampires? Even though you were fully aware they’d turn on you? Did that not matter to you, if it meant being rid of us wolves?”

“I don’t enjoy it,” you whisper. You know hearts can’t physically break, but your chest is hurting, and you’re afraid Mark is going to shatter you instead of Jaemin. This is what you get for believing other people over the person themselves. If only you had realized that Jaemin was serious; the amount of time he had spent on you, so unusual for a boy of his kind, his respectful behaviour, everything. “I didn’t mean to...”

“I don’t care!”

Mark has finally cast aside the cool exterior. Visibly fuming, he watches as you tremble because he had raised his voice. The wolf shakes his head, then his hands, tries to shake off the anger. Stop the transformation. He wouldn’t turn in his own kitchen, would he?

Maybe you should just let him shred you to pieces. It’s what you deserve for treating Jaemin like some boy without feelings. You feel terrible.

There’s a gaping ache growing just beneath your lungs, swallowing up your heart like a black hole. The feeling is excruciating, almost unbearable. You force yourself to bear it. You deserve it, you tell yourself. You deserve it. The words ring in your ears and in your entire body, making way for the hollow feeling that imprints itself inside you.

Mark never looks away. He gauges in your reaction, the dooming realization of the consequences to your actions. “Stay away from him,” he finally tells you. It’s the last nail driven into your coffin. Everything seems to fade away. “Stay away from that boy. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken by someone who’s never learnt to appreciate it. You know that. Spare him. Leave, and spare him.”

As a child, you had once swallowed a potion on accident. Your mother tended to leave all her cups and cauldrons everywhere, often forgetting that curiousity manifests itself in her daughter. The liquid had been thick and had burned, all the way down to your stomach, spreading through your body as the agony swallowed you up. Like someone biting away at your organs, ripping a big chunk out of your heart and paralyzing your tongue. You had been lucky the potion wasn’t deadly, only intended to torture, to coax the truth out of someone.

This is a fresh serve of that very potion. The memory is suddenly clear as day, every detail repeating in your mind. The same fire. The same torment. And you’ve ingested it on your own accords again. You never learn.

“Okay,” you say. It’s not you speaking, but it’s your voice, an odd out-of-body experience.

No one stops you as you walk out the house. You never look back.

— ❦ —

Magic in a way, is like poison.

It’s uncontrollable sometimes. When your senses are flooded with intense emotions, it splinters of your fingertips like the sparks of a fire, just as dangerous. It burns down villages and gives life to dead forests. The earth splits to obey it, raising the ocean and capturing the stars to bend to your will. It eats away at your energy every time you use it, sends you straight to the ground after a particularly powerful spell. No one ever taught you how to turn it into a cure. It doesn’t mend the wounds of your soul, only the superficial ones grazing your skin. Humanity does not need magic to save lifes. Medicine reaches out way further than magic does, tackles the problems more effectively. Scars fade away with time. Wounds close up. But your soul never recovers. It remembers everything, for now and eternity. It is going to replay the moment you abandoned Jaemin forever.

The ground is strangely comforting. You’ve been resting on it for a while now, even though your bed is right beside you. The cold is numbing, keeps you awake. Haunted by the many months Jaemin spent chasing after you, you stare at the ceiling and pray for karma to have mercy on you. How blind you were. Now that you’re given the sight, you’re not sure you want to keep it.

You spent many days counting the what if’s. What would’ve happened if you weren’t so stubborn, so gullible. You count them, once, twice, infinitely, then you repeat. Only the stars listen. They hear the secrets you whisper to them, the stories of your burden, and they guard that secret forever. It’s the only thing they can do for you.

When witches mourn, nature mourns with them. Eunbin watches as the weather starts to follow your lead. Thunderstorms darken the skies for days on end, the blighting thunder lighting up your face. She watches as flowers start to wilt at your touch, how your tears make the rain knock at your window like an old friend. You only let her in at night, when the moon watches over you both, heightened magic coursing through your veins. You’re always stronger at night. It’s a trait you passed on to your first creation, the werewolves. The very first curse you ever casted.

“All you witches can do is destroy and demolish.”

Mark is very right.

Eunbin moves to hold you close, but she could very well hold a desk plant. Or a lamp. You never stir in her hold, as motionless as an inanimate object. Once, you had helped her through a very similar phase. The world had come crashing down on Kwon Eunbin the day she lost Yeeun. Nature had suffered under her sorrow, flooding streets and cities as you had desperately tried to anchor Eunbin in the waves trying to drown her. In a sense, witches are very selfish.

She believes you’re anything but.

“(y/n),” she mumbles. The ground groans below her when she shifts her weight, the old wood barely doing its’ job. “Please talk to him.”

You laugh, but it’s void of emotion. Eunbin can’t recognize her best friend in that sound, the woman she considers a sister. You’re like a poltergeist, born out of heartbreak. “And break up the pack because of my stupid feelings?” You scoff. “Sure. Because I couldn’t possibly be more egoistic than that.”

“You’re suffering.”

“I feel like I’m dead, Eunbin.” It’s quiet for a very long time. You finally move, the life returning to your limbs. You twist and turn, clinging to her body like a toddler in need of affection. She graps that chance, embracing you tightly, her arms forming a cage. If that bothers you, you don’t complain. “Just dead. I can barely feel anything. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me - every second I spend thinking about us separated... It’s a vicious cycle. I can’t get any rest. I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve been.”

Eunbin knows about the tales of the children of the moon. How the moon had turned away from the witches and gave her attention to the ones who needed it most, and she gifted the wolves with all her blessings. The promise of a life-changing love, returned in full. Two souls connected by fate. Kindred spirits finding their way back to each other.

But it couldn’t be. No, absolutely impossible.

Eunbin thinks about Yeeun. She thinks of a big, grey wolf, giving her life for Eunbin, fulfilling a promise untold. And she reconsiders.

Some people aren’t meant to be seperated. Eunbin wonders if a long time ago, someone had written your story into the stars, moonlight-tipped fingers connecting your soul to another. Destined to be with the boy with the unruly, blue hair.

It’s been sometime since she last visited the Dream frat. Maybe it was time to return.

— ❦ —

Never in your life has someone thrown stones at your window. You must admit, the experience is more scary than romantic, and you curse all the movies in existence that made you think this was cute. It’s almost embarrassing that some minerals knocking against glass is the reason you snap out of your trance, but you try and pin-point the blame on the fact that nobody’s ever done this before.

A stone flies past your cheek when you open the window. You almost scream.

“Oh my god, (y/n)! I’m so sorry!”

The voice is oddly familiar - and the instant remedy to your vicious cycle. All the sleepless nights melt away as you peak down and look Na Jaemin in the face, a big smile on his lips. Something inside your soul finally clicks and rests, never moving again. Not until something makes the boy below your window walk away. “What the hell?” you exclaim. “What are you doing here?”

Jaemin spreads his arms. “Giving you your reward, of course.”

Guilt pools in your stomach, almost as overwhelming as the happiness that floods you at the realization that he’s really here. Sweet Jaemin, with the honest eyes and heavenly smile. The one you hurt terribly... “Jaemin, you can’t be-“

“Move away from the window, baby,” he interrupts you. Irritated, you lean away; shouldn’t he be angry with you? Upset or disappointed? He’s not even listening to you, but it seems like there is no reason to. Something claws at your window, swinging in without fear.

Now, you really do scream. The rocks were one thing, but Jaemin climbing through your window? This apartment complex is huge, for god’s sake. Did he just scale the side of the building? “Jaemin!” you hiss. “What the hell...”

You never get to finish your sentence. The wolf boy tackles you, pushing you on your bed as he firmly embraces you and rests his head on your chest. Like he’s supposed to be there. Not like you’ve been avoiding him for weeks because Mark Lee was going to rip your head out if you even breathed in the direction of Jaemin. His arms are locked around your waist, holding you there. You’re effectively trapped.

You can’t complain.

Jaemin hums in content when you hug him back, and he eases his weight off of you so you can move and sling your legs around his waist. He nuzzles his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. “Missed this,” he mumbles. “Missed you.”

You let him tug your shirt up so he can rest his hands on your naked waist. It’s like giving him a gift - his eyes light up in giddiness when he finally touches you, feels the warmth of you below his fingertips again. A child seeing the presents on christmas morning. “Missed you, too.” You bite your lip. “But aren’t you mad?”

He ignores you for a very long time. Instead, the man between your legs bunches your shirt up and covers your stomach with his own hand, as if he can’t believe you’re actually there. Beneath his skin. Holding him close. You would’ve never realized that Na Jaemin would be in disbelief of a girl wanting him, but look at him now. Your heart soars at the admiration in his eyes, and they meet yours when your pulse speeds up. It makes a smirk adorn his lips; he’s satisfied with the effect he has on you. For a moment, he looks down again, to the place where your hands hold his against your body. “Did you know that your little witch friend can be really vocal?” he says, ignoring your question completely. Lips leave a trail of heat down your skin as Jaemin traces the outline of your jugular vein. “She looks fairly small, but you should’ve seen her when she scolded the hell out of Mark. Really funny, actually. Wish she would’ve done it sooner...”

“Eunbin?” you inquire, puzzled. “What would Eunbin want with Mark Lee?”

Jaemin stops leaving kisses on you, sadly. He raises his head to look at you, offering you a look right into his soul. You see where the moon had fallen in love with Jaemin, where the lines of human and wolf blurred. Memories that gather and bundle, a messy clutter of emotions. But beneath it all, you find the boy you’ve fallen in love with. In his eyes, you find salvation.

The blankets rustle when Jaemin moves on top of you. He shifts his weight, gripping your waist a little bit tighter to hold you closer. When your chests meet, your hearts start syncing up, shaping a melody of their own. A few moments pass as both Jaemin and you concentrate on it; concentrate on where love meets forgiveness.

It’s weird. When Jaemin had just been an unknown face, you never managed to read him. Now, he’s like an open book that he pulled out himself for you. Put it on your lap and asked you to read it to him, as if he doesn’t know what’s inside it. In your hands lies his heart. Does he know that he’s clutching yours? You hope so.

“Well, you see.” Jaemin presses a kiss to your cheek. “She came in really calmly, actually. Wanted to see me and confirm something. Renjun was about to call for me, but Mark interfered... she brought herself into a lot of danger, coming to our house when she’s a witch. She did it for you. Told Mark that I should talk to you, and he in turn told her it’s best if you stay several continents away from me... I broke his nose for that.”

“Jaemin!”

He shrugs. “Eunbin yelling at him was pretty nice, but not enough to settle my anger. You think I’m going to let him talk about my mate like that?”

This is it. The explanation you’ve been begging the stars for, the root of your vicious cycle. Your mouth falls open in shock. Jaemin watches, half amused, half expectant. Like he’s waiting for something. “You mean to tell me...”

“Yeah. Eunbin found that out. She came to ask me if it was true. It’s what Mark didn’t know, because I didn’t tell anybody except Jeno. You should’ve seen the look on Mark’s face...” Jaemin halts. Worry glazes over his eyes, and it takes you several seconds to understand that he’s worrying about you. “Baby, are you alright? You’re all pale. It’s alright if you reject me, don’t worry, as long as you’re hap...”

Jaemin is suprisingly easy to push down. Usually, you wouldn’t be able to pin down a wolf, but the shock gave you an advantage. Straddling him, you lean down and finally kiss Jaemin.

It’s the key to your cage. The funny tasting cure your mom brewed for the potion you accidentally drank. If sadness tastes like raspberry vodka and salty tears, happiness tastes like chapstick and chewing gum. It’s the only thing you register before Jaemin flips you over and kisses you breathless.

You had been shy, but Jaemin is ruthless. His canines tug at your lower lip, a silent order for you to obey and part your lips. If your fingers clawing at his shoulders hurts him, he certainly doesn’t mention it, too busy drowning in the overwhelming feeling of your tongue moving against his. When you finally push him away to catch your breath, the wolf feels like he got drunk off of you. “That’s one way to claim your prize,” he breathes out.

A long time ago, the moon had mercy on your poor soul. This is what had been waiting for you all your life, hidden in the looming shadows of the supernatural world. A soulmate, born to love and adore you. Destiny feels a little bit like contentment.

You can finally laugh as the wounds that had been inflicted on you heal over, making way for the only emperor of your heart. “This kiss isn’t the prize,” you reply. “You are.”

[kriffingunlucky]

Hey! Hope you’re doing well! Idk about anybody else but I could die for some hcs about the Wolfpack boys with an s/o; none of them but Wolffe really get any appreciation

You are so completely right, absolutely, and I am weak for all of the pack because I love them all so freaking much. I’m just gonna throw some random headcanons because holy crap they’re fun- Some of them are,, (looks around) questionable to read around others. But it’s nothing huge or descriptive!

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

Wolffe:

- He is obviously a big grump

- Eye rolls and sarcastic remarks

- But you’re his exception and sunshine

- Not that he’ll ever tell

- He’s always stressed out because he’s mama wolf

- Once again something he won’t say

- He treasures you like you’re a diamond

- A precious artifact to him that he could break if he was too harsh

- He’s more of a small physically affectionate person

- So hand holding and nudges are his way of saying ‘I love you’

- People would think he doesn’t like cuddles

- He’s actually a teddy bear sorry not sorry

- He is like a koala and will latch onto you and not let go

- He is large and warm, very strong and thick, so he’s a heater

- Not ever admitting to it, he savors skin on skin

- You both don’t even have to do the dirty to strip down and lay bare

- One of his favorite things are your kisses

- How you litter them from his face, down his neck, and to his chest

- Lower when you’re feeling mischievous ;)

- People would also think that the sexy commander would keep that persona throughout everything, but really, he turns into a stray puppy when you’re alone

- When you’re apart for a long time he will enjoy himself when loving you

- But he doesn’t always revolve around sex

- When you both go at it it’s loving and passionate

- In all honesty though, he just enjoys you

Sinker:

- He is usually pretty negative

- But he smiles more when you’re around

- That’s how his brothers found out about his feelings towards you

- He couldn’t help that true smile that came when you were there

- Liking to kiss the top of your head and nose

- But not favoring doing it in public

- He will shower you with love and kisses behind closed doors

- He constantly reminds you that you’re beautiful and that he cares for you

- Picking up poetry you are blessed with notes from him

- Especially when he has to leave

- Both of you don’t do much with large groups when you are allowed the chance to be alone together

- Boost always teases his brother about this but he means well

- He will shove his other brothers out of the room, shoo them away, yell about giving you love birds some space

- He’s just happy for his brother

- You both will sit and watch holovids together

- Sprawled across each other, a tangled mess, really

- Snacks provided by dad Plo

- He doesn’t get jealous easily

- Already knowing he has your heart

- And he plans on taking care of it by keeping your trust

- He has a hard time expressing his emotions sometimes

- But you’re here to hug his sadness away and keep him with you

Boost:

- Kiss kiss fall in love

- Legit you’re both always ontop of each other

- A very healthy loving relationship

- He is always flirting like he doesn’t already have your heart

- Makes you blush 24/7

- Suggestive winks and looks

- He just admires how beautiful your body is

- No matter who you’re in front of he’ll kiss you

- Both like to go to 79′s and dance

- You’re also both bad at it

- But that won’t stop you!!

- After a couple drinks he’s wasted, and you just don’t drink

- You drag him back, him slurring about how he’s gonna slap a ring on that wonderful hand of yours once he grows a pair

- That makes you smile

- You take care of him and cuddle the hell out of the sleepy boy

- The hangover isn’t fun but hey,

- Through the good times and bad, right?

- He is always taking you places and showing you the best spots for stargazing

- As dirty minded and suggestive he is, he is rather shy when you’re getting started, but once he’s sure you’re comfortable he rocks your world

- Shows you off always

- “Hey, bro. My girlfriend is gorgeous, huh?” “Yeah, totally-” “TOO BAD SHE’S MINE.”

- Gets jealous easyyyy

- Never because of the pack though, he knows they’d never take you

- But anyone else can eat shit because you’re his

- You think it’s cute, which isn’t what he was going for, but he’ll take it

- You like raking your fingers through his odd hairstyle

- He’s jelly for that

- Accepting any kind of attention you give him and whining when you stop

- He is entranced by you and you alone

Comet:

- He loves you

- How you smile, laugh, talk, breathe

- Everything

- He always has, always will

- The moment he saw you he fell in love, he couldn’t deny it

- He didn’t have the guts to flirt with you but he would treat you like a princess

- Holding doors, helping out with your work, getting you snacks and checking up on you continuously. Making sure you ate and slept

- He finally kissed you and sealed the deal

- He enjoys solid quiet moments with you

- 10/10 most romantic out of everyone

- Not afraid to turn puppy dog eyes on for cuddles

- Comet loves to buy you trinkets he sees on missions

- Collects flowers too

- Takes you on walks and picnics

- You do go out on dates often

- It’s no secret that you two are together

- You are called the power couple

- Boost’s otp

- Will pull you into an improve dancing session

- To whatever music, doesn’t matter, he’s just gonna groove

- You love watching him dance cause he’s actually good at it

- Twirls and dips you

- Lots of kisses and laughter

- It’s a sweet, happy, adventurous relationship

- You both enjoy hanging out like best friends would

- Because that’s what you are!

- Best friends and lovers :)

Warthog:

- Give this man some food please

- He adores your cooking

- The moment he saw you cooking and heard you singing while doing so

- He was smitten

- Began helping you in the kitchen and learning to cook

- You had a couple accidents,,

- But he’s trying very hard and it’s honestly so sweet

- He’s adorable because he’s so messy

- Bought the both of you matching aperons!!

- They’re both pink,,

- He likes cuddles and hair touches

- He’s a huge teddy bear so you are blessed to be with this squishy man

- He will massage you until you feel like puddy

- Loves to call you sweet nicknames

- Came up with so many but “boo bear” is his favorite

- You call him “papa bear” in return

- His face flushes easily when it comes to complements

- He likes to sing

- Loves to sing soft songs to you

- Will sit and listen to you talk about what makes you happy

- Honestly he just likes seeing you smile so widely

- He will also watch your favorite shows with you

- Usually falls asleep though

- So he’s just your big pillow

- Although he’s not always that innocent bean,,

- 75% of the time he is

- Claiming one of his hobbies are loving you

- He’s a hopeless romantic

[feelingfredly]

Just Remember I Love You

Summary:

Stiles pulled up the playlists and took pictures of them... as he scrolled through, he saw one labeled M&D's song and he was like, Who's M? Derek and someone had a song?   Stiles can't stand the thought of Derek and some stranger having a song. And a cheesy 70's love song at that!

Talia loved music. She wasn't a great singer but was always humming and singing and dancing around. She and her husband met at a disco night, of all things, and they were often seen dancing to a scratchy radio in the kitchen late at night after the kids were supposed to be in bed.

There was a song called Just Remember I Love You that she loved. It was "their song" because while wolf life was nice, it wasn't perfect and damn if it wouldn't be better sometimes if there were wolf antidepressants because even Alpha wolves get the blues, and when things were more than she could bear, Paul, her husband, would sing it to her.

After the pups came along Laura heard daddy singing it to mommy and one day when she was sad she came and demanded the "make it better song" so, Talia sang it to her as they danced around the kitchen and it made everything better.

After that, it was the thing to do when someone had hurt feelings, or a broken heart, or was stressed at school--someone would sing Just remember I love you, and it'll be alright... Just remember I love you, more than I can say.

After the fire, Laura tried to sing it to Derek and they both fell apart because nothing was ever going to be alright again.

They listened to other songs together, but not that one...  never that one

Time passed until one day Stiles Stilinski let himself into Derek's loft. The wolf was puttering around the kitchen with his battered old smart phone in a coffee cup, letting the cup act as a sound box so there was this echoey music drifting through the loft and Stiles was surprised because this was Camaro guy,  with his scruff and leather jacket, listening to 70's soft rock? nah...  that's just nuts, dude. But, before he can say anything, Derek was scrambling to turn the phone off and practically ripped Stiles's head off for just barging in without calling first or at least knocking.

A couple months later Stiles was sidelined with a jacked-up knee and was sitting in the Camaro while the others were fighting the MOTW right over there and he was bored and antsy and freaking out, so he poked through everything in the car and there was Derek's phone, so thank God he could at least listen to music or something while his friends were maybe getting eviscerated and he couldn't do anything, and there are only two playlists on the damn thing--of course Derek doesn't have something as useful as Spotify--and one of them was your typical 00's angry music, and the other...   was fucking yacht rock, man.

So, when Derek and Isaac pile back in the car Stiles is ramped up on fear and relief, full of asshol-itude and was like, "You need to join the modern age, Sourwolf... The youngest song on your phone can legally drink." and Derek pushed back with, "What, you jealous because you're still getting by on a lousy fake I.D. and All-Star gets laid more than you do?"

But Derek takes the phone and shoves it into his pocket like it's something precious...  and Stiles, who is an asshole, but not a stupid asshole, realized that there was something important on that phone.

Derek never took it into fights.

Derek never put it anywhere that it could get hurt.

Derek had another fucking phone.

so, what's the deal with that one?

He can't let the idea go--it eats at him.  Why the two phones?  Why the freaking beat up second-gen piece of crap that should have been put out to pasture years ago?

So, the next time he was alone and saw the phone he grabbed it--the sucker doesn't even have a lock screen--and he called himself.  At least that way he can get the number, right?  But it didn’t come up as Derek Hale on his caller ID.  It came up as Laura Hale.

Which made a strange sort of sense.  If it was Laura's phone, he'd keep it for sentimental purposes, right?  Holy fuck, the dude's been paying for his sister's phone the whole time, keeping some little piece of her alive.  There are probably messages on that fucker from before the fire.

He's more careful about the phone after that.

He didn't stop watching, though.  He popped into the loft unannounced more often.  Offered to go make coffee for anyone--everyone--so he could get a little alone time with the phone.

He finally got it one day when Derek was in the shower, so covered in nixie guts that he didn't stop on the way up to grab it like he normally did, and Stiles pulled up the playlists and took pictures of them...  and as he scrolled through, he saw one labeled M&D's song and he was like, Who's M?  Derek and someone had a song?

It hit him, harder than he could admit comfortably. He knew about Paige, and Kate, and Jennifer, and even Braeden, because...  well, they all knew about them, but there's an M now...  someone Derek cared enough about to have a song with, and fuck, Derek wasn't supposed to be a romantic...  Stiles was a romantic.  Stiles wanted to woo someone with flowers and candlelight dinners and in-jokes and a song they could play at their wedding. Derek's just distance and angry eyebrows and that little bit of respect that leaked through occasionally, and gratitude, because fuck, yeah, that's what everyone wanted from the hottest thing they've ever seen, gratitude. He'd pick the slamming up against things over the fucking gratitude every damn day because Derek should know that he didn't got to bat for him because he wanted thanks, he did it because he cared for the bitter bastard, okay?  At least when he was angry he looked alive, invested, and he was LOOKING AT STILES and actually seeing him.

Yeah, so bad attention was better than no attention, sue him.

Later when he was alone, he pulled up Spotify and loaded the song, and well...  it wasn't what he expected at all.  

 When there's so much trouble that you wanna cry

The world has crumbled and you don't know why

When your hopes are fading and they can't be found

Dreams have left you waiting, friends have let you down

 He listened to the song three times in a row, and by halfway through the third he was wiping away tears, because fuck that's...  well, that was a lot.

"It was my mom and dad's song."

The window--the fucking window--was open, and Stiles had been so wrapped up in the song that he hadn't heard Derek and his super-secret wolfy breaking and entering. Stiles was instantly up and deflecting--he didn't mean to pry (he totally did) and what was Derek doing there, and didn't he ever knock, and fuck use the door, and everything he'd ever said when one of the wolves had broken in while he was jerking off, but somehow being caught listening to this seemed even more personal to him.

He couldn't imagine how Derek felt

Derek just stared at him as he stormed and when he wound down and scrubbed the evidence of tears away Stiles just sagged under the scrutiny. "I'm sorry.  I didn't know.  I just...  I wanted..."

"You wanted to know.” Derek said, less antagonism in his voice than he had a right to. “You always want to know.  That's sort of Stiles distilled."

They stared at each other for a little before Stiles waded in with an apology.  He at least owed the wolf that much. "I didn't mean to stir up bad memories, Der.  I am sorry."

Derek looked a little distant, like his mind wasn't actually there in the moment, and Stiles bet he looked a lot like that when he was thinking about his mom.

"Not bad,” he said finally. “Just hard sometimes.  Good memories, though.  It's why I can't let that--" he waved at the computer that was still playing the song on loop--"go."

Stiles nodded. "I get that. I feel that way about my mom's recipes.  I can't cook them for dad, but I'll bake the cookies or the bread and remember cooking with her, and then end up giving the stuff away.  Mr. Abernathy next door loves it when I get sentimental."

They sat like that for a while until the quiet got to be too much and Derek took off again, leaving Stiles with a little bit more knowledge about the older man, and a lot to think about.

He called Cora the next day. She cried when he told her what happened, and when he apologized to another Hale for stirring things up she yelled at him for hurting her brother, and yelled at the Universe a little, and then cried again as she explained the significance of the song. When she calmed down she asked him to email her the playlist because she was too young to remember the names of the songs and she wanted to listen to them again, and if they cried a little more at that, well neither of them was going to tell anyone.

But… now he knew.  He knew what the song meant, what it was for, and he had a plan.  It might not be a great plan, but hell, he's had worse.

He didn’t make a move for weeks.  He wasn't stupid, and he knew Derek wasn’t either.

He started by playing some 70's music around the house--even getting a laugh out of his dad as he busted out "Do the hustle!" in the kitchen one day as he danced around making a casserole for pack night.

"Your mom and I used to go out dancing all the time.” The sheriff actually smiled at the memory. “She could dance up a storm.  You get that from her."

And just like that Stiles had another thing to thank Derek for....

Finally, it was time. He'd been spending more time with the wolf, his spark finding an anchor in the alpha, and he could feel it developing into something like a real pack bond.  Derek clearly felt it as well, his shoulders relaxing every time Stiles would get close enough for him to bump against him, subtly scenting his new packmate.

Then it wasn't so subtle. A hand on the head, Stiles rubbing Derek's shoulder, a scruff of the back of the neck...  and time.  Sitting. Talking. Snarking.  But time spent together, alone or with the others, but always together.

And then it was his birthday.  21. Finally legal in all the ways, and finally ready to make that last leap of faith.  The ladies at Jungle were thrilled to help, and when everyone asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, he said "pack night at the club--no excuses" and they gave in, because as much as he was an asshole, he was their asshole

They got there, dressed in their club gear and black leather coats, and Stiles pulled up in his Jeep and rolled out wearing a shirt unbuttoned to his navel that showcased his toned torso, a big gold pendant he'd enchanted the month before for a protection spell but that looked like one of the terrible 70's zodiac sign necklaces, and skin tight pants that flared out into truly terrible bell bottoms. "Oh, didn't I tell you?  It's a theme night!  Disco, Babies!  And I'm the Dancing Queen!"

The pack groaned and then laughed, following the nutcase they'd adopted into the club, listening to the thrum of the music and saying, "Fuck it." before heading to the bar for drinks that their spark would add a little kick to so they could feel a buzz for the night.

Derek gave him a long look, and then another, but just sighed and nodded as Stiles pulled him out onto the packed dance floor.

"Thanks for coming, Sourwolf."  He made the appropriate noises, and Derek swayed against him, surprisingly--or not surprisingly, the dude was physicality embodied--a good dancer, and not shy with the hips once he got going.

"Happy Birthday, Stiles," he said, bending down to speak directly into the spark’s ear, "this is the only gift you're getting."

Stiles looked at him from under his lashes and smiled. "It's the only thing I wanted, Der. Really."

They finished their dance and then his best Lady of the Jungle, Brianna Cracker, walked up to the microphone--"We have a special birthday boy in our midst tonight--hey there Little Red, looking good!--"  the crowd cheered and Stiles wriggled around in Derek's hold to look at the stage, flailing his arms a little at the attention.

She went on, "He had a special request so he could dance with his boo--or his boo-to-be if he doesn't fuck this up tonight--so everyone wrap their arms around their special someone's and get ready for something slow and sweet.  Happy Birthday, Red!  We love you!"

And then… the song played.

Derek froze, so like a deer in headlights that Stiles had to bite his lips not to make a joke, but now wasn't the time for jokes.  He held out his hand hopefully, and Derek finally thawed enough to take it, wrapping Stiles in an almost painfully tight hug.

"Give me a chance, Sourwolf?" Stiles asked quietly. He felt Derek's head nod once against his neck, and Stiles felt a knot in his gut unravel.  

It was going to be alright.

 Notes: This fic owes its existence to Sirius XM's Yacht Rock Radio, and Firefall's amazing 70's classic, Just Remember I Love You.

"Just Remember I Love You" by Firefall

When it all goes crazy and the thrill is gone The days get rainy and the nights get long When you get that feelin' you were born to lose Staring at your ceiling thinkin' of your blues

When there's so much trouble that you wanna cry The world has crumbled and you don't know why When your hopes are fading and they can't be found Dreams have left you waiting, friends have let you down

Just remember I love you And it'll be alright Just remember I love you More than I can say Maybe then your blues will fade away

When you need a lover and you're down so low Start to wonder, but you never know When it feels like sorrow is your only friend Knowing that tomorrow you'll feel this way again

When the blues come callin' at the break of dawn Rain keeps fallin', but the rainbow's gone When you feel like crying but the tears won't come When your dreams are dyin', when you're on the run

Just remember I love you And it'll be alright Just remember I love you More than I can say Just remember I love you And it'll be alright It'll be alright It'll be alright It'll be alright

[talesofealdancynedom]

Meriam Craweleoth & Felin Haracwen, as girls in normal nobles clothes, wandering the local magic forest; Hope you didn’t forget chapter one, because it’s about to hurt.

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West  (chapter 10.1 -

Another Day 10/10) part 4. Stories of Old

Maps

none

           At dawn, Meriam, Fredrick, and Eatheltwein, headed down to the dining hall for breakfast. To their surprise, they saw they had a guest; who was sitting across from princess Charlette, Eathel’s new wife. No one had stopped their intruder for one reason: they had seen him before.

           Murdoc was helping himself at the table, surrounded by books, and his panther familiar Stearra, purring at his ankles. He ate like a small child, that just learned to use a spoon. Everyone took their seat, as the servants brought them dishes. They all ate their food quietly as dawn light poured in.

“Pardon me, master Monafyra-” The king started.

“You can call me Murdoc.” He said, without looking up. The pure audacity made everyone in the room livid, but not so much as to make any of them speak up.

“Yes. Murdoc... Why are you in my dinning room? And how and when did you intrude our palace?”

“I walked in the front of course,” Mudoc said, continuing to eat. He was wearing his plum and black wolf fairy robes, which made apear like an animal. He looked older than Meriam had remembered; she had lost track of time.

“You had many guards, but none of them stopped me. Either they knew who I was, or what I was. All of this is irrelevant to the fact I came to deliver some news; again. Then, there was gravy, eggs, and bread; And I saw no point in refusing the kindness of others.” Murdoc continued, whilst gesticulating and chewing. Fredrick waved his hand, letting Murdoc carry on; now that he had finished his food.

“I come to give lord Eatheltwein my journals, as I am retiring form magic to settle down in my homeland; don’t seek me. King Edmond used his power to give me refuge. Th people of The Far North believe mages can be made to give up magic. Your kingdom however, Meriam, is not so polite. I have visited each of our mage friends, only to see a trail of bodies. All our dear friends are nothing more then illustrations of tragedy, on my parchment. At the hands of wizards, I’m sorry to say. Common folk no longer think that mages are necessary to wield magic; as if that’s was all our worth. Even my brother Tiberius, and his daughter Fyra, turned out to be dead on my way here. I have good stealth magic to evade people. Unlike you, Craweleoth.”

“You come to tell us mages are dying, wizardry is spreading, and that the people of the Grand West of Anglia, are coming to kill my wife?” the king coughed.

“Aunt Merry can use time magic; she can get away, I’m sure.” Eatheltwein said, looking at Meriam, who stared back in fear. Everyone knew of the Mage Queen, but no one knew Eatheltwein was a mage. They had been led to believe he was a wizard, just as she had planned.

“You have all the time to run away Meriam, but no matter which way you turn, the events that transpire in Ealden Cynedom always snap back; you will die. Eventually. They will come for you shortly, I suppose.” Murdoc said. Then he read the room. Meriam looked petrified, Charlette was confused, Eathel was sad, and the king looked unwell. “I know death when I see it, my lady.” He concluded. Murdoc got up, thanked the servants, left all his journals next to Eathel and Meriam, and left.

“On a good note, we were invited to the borders of Francia, by my king father; to shake hands for peace! Aren’t you happy Queen Merry? Peace at last! We can all heal because of you.” Charlette chimed. The king coughed on his food, and Meriam rubbed his shoulder staring unblinkingly at Charlette. Eatheltwein seemed exuberant. Charolette’s words did not comfort Meriam. She was equally scared to go to boarder. Meriam hadn’t been there since she was off to get married; and saw her friend be murdered by her own people. To think, she was excited not two days earlier.

           The royal court traveled steadily to the border between Francia, and Anglia. It rained, and then it shined, and then they reached the open meadows, that were starting to yellow as harvest season approached. Both parties stood a hill apart. Charlette waved to her father, who walked forward.

“Dear, I still feel unwell. Would you like to shake for peace? This was your mission.” Fredrick asked. Meriam nodded. She slowly walked forward through the grass. It smelled woody and dry, and brushed her skirt like when she used to run around as a girl. She continued onward. The uniforms of the Francian guards accompanying their king, hung loose, and their faces were sad and tiered. Meriam continued. Just at the border pole, Meriam stopped; there was some clover blooming by it, and dirt trailing along the boarder. The king stopped and held out his hand. He was not happy.

“Mage Queen. Your nephew is pleased with my girl, who appears to be in good care. We are tiered, and we wish to retire. Why do you not shack on peace, now that I’m repenting for my foolish legacy? Instead, you stare at clover that is at our feet.” The Francian king snapped. Meriam stared at it, and a tear went down her face.

“Did you know I was born in Francia, by Fort De Lapin. The magic forest of The Rat Rate. I grew up here, and I learned magic here. My mother left, thus my father found the daughter of a warlock, who had also recently had a baby. My milk sister Filen Heracwen, meant the world to me. She died here, trying to see me off as I was forced to marry against my will; she was shot by one of your men, for trying to leave with me. Possibly to send a massage of your own people, the reason doesn’t matter. I bet there isn’t anyone alive who remembers her name, or that she loved magic and her kingdom. She wanted to be my hand maid, and go with me on quests. Yet she died here, without a family to burry her, or siblings to mourn her. She passed before she could wed; unlike me, She wanted to merry a farm boy, and have three kids. Have her first daughter named Odette. Felin thought it was a pretty name for a girl. She went dark to open the Rat Gate, even though she was a commoner, because she loved magic so much, she wanted help it. Yet, she died before wizardry could give her that. And her only kin, uncle Normanwe was not there for her, because he was dying on your behalf in far off battle. I look at the clover, because it reminds me of her. This is the closest thing she will ever get to a funeral. Fourty years too late. I am sad, because I never got to attend. I am sad, because a young lady needlessly died, when she had a future in front of her. I am sad soldiers would kill a civilian. I am sad I got taken away from my home, and now that I am back, I wish to leave.” Meriam sobbed. Her voice echoed across the field to both sides, as it grew in volume and tears. Everyone stopped, and looked at the clover. Everyone had forgotten, or was oblivious to, why Meriam wanted to stop the war so badly. It wasn’t because she saw Francia was an enemy; but because she didn’t want anyone else to die. It was too sad. Meriam didn’t want to have this funeral. Everyone began to cry, and not know why. In the absence of a head stone, or body, they felt like they were attending the wake of not just a girl, who could have lived, but for everyone they loved who died; For a war that had long lost its purpose, and unjustly claimed many. Everyone, on every side, had lost someone. And no one, on either side, had truly had the time and relief to just mourn. Meriam, who was considered the most formidable player around the world, reached out and shock the king’s hand. She held her chest and went to her knees wailing alone in the field. Shacking the hand of a man who was responsible for her pain. At long last, Meriam no longer felt hate, only pain.

           When they arrived home, the king was ill. No doctor could figure out why, but he remained in bed. Meriam tended him, while Eatheltwein took up royal duties. Fredrick would not get better, no matter the rest or medicine provided. Meriam even tried magic methods. She was given her own chambers, as they feared she would catch his sickness. Then one mourning, the doctor came to Meriam in her study, and told her the man she loved, wed, and had shaped her whole life, was dead. He had lived long, but Meriam wished she could give him more time. She could, with magic, but she pushed away that intrusive thought. We will all die eventually; she could hear Murdoc say in her mind. But time is precious, and she could not let go of the possibility of saving everyone, if she went back for them. Meriam took three days to leave her bed. And wore her purple dress to Eatheltwein’s coronation, and to dance with him. She did not smile like the last time she was adorned like a courtly lady. She wondered if Fredrick would have liked to see her wear his favourite dress one last time. She even wore her Francian pearls, from when she was young, but was never aloud to wear. She wore no makeup, and had a pearl comb holding her hair back in a knot. In the mirror, she had aged half that of her husband, due to magic changing her appearance.

Before bed, she took off the dress and held it; the fabric was still warm. In her bath, Meriam realized she loved that dress too. It felt like she was dancing with Fredrick again when she wore it. Remined her of his smell and smile. The dress was perfect, and barely worn. It was light, airy, flowy, soothing, and feminine. Unlike her black crushed velvet fairy robes. Her protective fairy robes were a magic gift made by the Fairy King, yet had half the value of that periwinkle gown. Then, Meriam wondered something: if all mages had fairy robes, which protect against spell and sword, why did they all die if they knew wizards were coming? Why did they choose to remove their robes and surrender to death?  She thought. Meriam did not sleep well, as she mulled over mortality, and impending doom. She didn’t want everyone’s stories to end while hers continued. Her bed felt so cold without Fredrick next to her.

           In the middle of the night, Eatheltwein came into Meriam’s new chambers, and sat next to her bed.

“Are you awake, aunt Merry?” He asked. Meriam shrugged in response. Eathel put the candle on the side table, and lay next to her on top of the sheets.

“Charlette told me to come and see how you’re doing; without uncle. I am so sad. We have peace at our borders, and wives hold their husbands; but you are alone. No other mages, children, or husband. Just me. I will miss you too someday. Are you also scared of the Wizards? What will you do if they come here for the raven gate, and for you?” Eatheltwein whispered. Meriam never thought about that. She was busy wishing for other people.

“I wish you to tell everyone you’re a wizard, and to not go into the shadow veil to see your cousin Odette. I want you to hide, bury or destroy the Raven Gate, so no one wanders into it. I want you to be happy, when I’m gone.”

“You would let them take you, so that they can feel secure? Even if it is a lie, and mages will still be born to magic families?”

“I don’t know. But I think that may have been what happened to my friends around the world. Remember Eathel; magic does not have sides, or possess malice. It would make sense not to fight, and instead accept destiny.”

“I don’t think your capable of either of those thing’s, aunt Merry.” Eatheltwein laughed. He was still a source of sunshine. Meriam reached over her sheets to hold his hand.

“Can you stay? For tonight.” Meriam asked. Eatheltwein nodded.

“Can we go on one last adventure, before I’m a wizard and king, figuring out how to transition power before our people invent guillotines. For old times sake?” Eatheltwein asked earnestly. Meriam laughed and grabbed his hand closer.

“Yes. Yes, we may your majesty. I think Fredrick would have wanted us to be happy too.”

           Just before dawn, while the servants woke and prepared for the day, Eatheltwein and Meriam snuck out of the palace in their fairy robes. A note was left for Charlette; telling her to keep their location secret, unless they never returned. Which she was inclined to do, as keeping secrets is exciting if you’re a noble woman. In the streets, the peasants were busy starting work and waking, and the knights were changing shifts. Merchants started to set up, or pack to leave to their next market. Meriam didn’t even need to freeze time to get by. Only as they reached the Raven Gate, in the square, did Meriam pause time.

“Eathel, where do you want to go?” Meriam said, clasping his hands in excitement. She had hit the point of sadness, that results in manic giddiness when you can no longer cry, and have sleep depravation.

“Bantia! I’ve never herd or seen a single person from the land south the of Dania, and north of The Far South of Hispania. I bet that is the only magic forest you haven’t seen aunt Merry!” Eathltwein gleamed with the glow of dawn.

“No, actually I haven been to the wolf gate in North Moon, nor plan to…. Which means Bntia must have the Tree Gate… Magic plants… That colourful forested area in the shadow veil.” Meriam mused. Now she was curious; her seer nature made her thirst for magic knowledge once more. Meriam grasped Eatheltweins hand, and they leapt into the shadow veil through the Raven Gate one last time.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 29

She wanted to cry, she could feel the emotion swelling up in her, but she was so tired she just whimpered and shook, burying her face into her mother’s cloak. Long thin arms wrapped around her and held her tightly with a surprising amount of strength.

Please never let go...

“My baby,” Oira sobbed into her daughter's shoulder as she hugged her tightly. “My precious girl. Oh, how badly I’ve wished to hold you again...”

“Where did you go?” Nenani cried, unaware of her hands as they began to glow and pulse. “Where...where did you...where were you all this time...?”

“I didn’t want to leave you,” she said thickly. “I didn’t and then I couldn’t risk coming back. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

For several long moments, it was all they did. Holding onto one another as though it were keeping the sky anchored to the ground. When at last they broke apart, Nenani looked into her mother’s eyes. They were older. Sadder. World wary. But they were still her mother’s eyes. Oira huffed a wet teary laugh and ran her fingers through Nenani’s hair and rubbing her forehead.

“I saw it all,” she said quietly. “I saw the dragon fall from the sky...in flames.”

Nenani but her lip and looked away. “I...I don’t know what happened.”

“You bloomed,” Oira said with a pained look. She was trying to smile as though she knew she should be happy, but it only brought her pain. “I had hoped that my seal would hold longer, but...I am glad it broke. He would have you by now if it hadn’t. Though he will be wondering where his pet has gone soon. We don’t have much time, we have to circle back and get Haiyer. But we must be quiet.”

“Haiyer? Who is Haiyer?”

Her mother smiled, a genuine smile with no sadness. “You will see.” Her mother took her hand and together they began to walk and Nenani’s hands dimmed and the glow died away.

“Mama?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“What about Keral?”

Her mother looked at her. “Who?”

“Keral. The ranger.”

Her mother’s grip on her hand tightened. “You don’t have to worry about him. He’ll be chasing his own tail for a while yet.”

“But...he’ll worry where I went.”

“Good. We’ll be miles away by the time he’s noticed.”

Nenani stopped and looked at her mother in bewilderment. “What? But Mama, he’s...”

There was a loud crash from far off into the woods, back the way they had come and she heard Keral call for her, his voice loud. “Nenani! Where are ya, lass?”

“Oh, there! Mama, that’s Keral,” Nenani said, pulling back towards where she head the ranger calling. But her mother suddenly grabbed her wrist, painfully, and yanked her back and began to run again.

“We must go, my sweet,” Oira said, real panic in her voice. “Quickly! Or he will find us.”

“What?” Nenani asked, suddenly understanding. Her mother thought Keral meant to harm them. “No! Mama, he’s my friend!”

“Friend? Nenani,” Oira said, looking at her child as though she were insane. “He is a Vhasshalan Ranger. A blue coat. They eat people!”

She tried to pull her hand free. “Not him! He saved me.”

“I saved you,” her mother said to her sternly. “From him!”

“Mama no! He’s nice! Really!” Keral’s calls for her echoed through the forest and she struggled against her mother’s grip and her fervent pulling. When she could not free herself, she turned her head towards the sound of Keral’s voice and yelled. “Keral! Keral, I’m here!”

Oria looked at her daughter in horror. “What? Stop that, you stupid girl. He will find us!”

“He won’t eat us!” she told her mother. “He’s a good person!”

“You don’t know what he’s done,” Oira cried out, her voice shaking with fear. “What those blue coats have done to our people.”

She looked into her mother’s eyes and saw hate and fear and she met them with her own stubborn insistent glare. “Not. Keral.”

Her mother seemed at a loss as to what to do, clearly not expecting to fight her own child. However, the sound of fast approaching footfalls and the crashing of trees drew both their attentions and Oria grabbed her daughter and forced Nenani behind her.  Keral came barreling through the woods, his face hard and angry and looked very much like his brother in that moment. But there was a savage gleam to his eyes that made Nenani understand why the blue coats were so feared by humans.

The ranger stopped several dozen yards from them, eyeing the human woman shielding Nenani with a severe sneer. “I think ye have somethin’ a’ mine, woman.”

Oira glared up at him, her hands flexing into fists. “I think you need to leave, giant...”

“Not without the lass,” he said, one hand pressing to his breast pocket.

“You’ll have to take her from my corpse!” Oira said and she lifted her arms and Nenani watched as her mother’s fingers began to glow and from them came a swirl of bright angry fire. Keral looked at the human woman and there was fear in his eyes. Not like when he had faced Nenani’s flames. He knew she would never deliberately hurt him. But her mother...her mother meant to hurt him. Kill him.

Nenani broke free of her mother and ran towards the ranger, yelling. “NO! MAMA DON’T!”

She felt the heat of Oira’s fire as it flew towards Keral and Nenani raised her arms as though she could grab it. No, no, no, no, no, no! Nenani felt her own fire pull from the well of fear from inside her and just as Oira’s fire would have consumed Keral, a wall of yellow heat swept up and devoured it in a terrifying display. Red and orange flames danced and swirled into the air before breaking apart and dissolving into sparks and embers that floated harmlessly down around them like rain.

Nenani ran to stand in front of the stunned ranger, her arms spread out as though her little frame were enough to shield a being so much larger than herself. “MAMA NO! Please listen! He really is my friend! He doesn’t eat people!”

She heard Keral move above her and looking up, she saw him kneel down behind her, one hand still pressed to his breast pocket. He was smiling, but he was clearly shaken. He rubbed her back with his knuckle. “Thank ya fer that, lass.”

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Oira yelled, her hands still glowing. “Get away from him, Nenani!”

“Mama, please listen!”

“NO! All of this...all of what I have done was for this not to happen!” her mother was crying, hot angry tears. “Everything! So you would be safe! From monsters like him!”

Nenani wanted to go to her mother, but she feared leaving Keral open to her anger. “Mama, please...”

Her mother laid her face into her hands and shook back and forth in anguish. “We did not know if you would take after me and I didn’t want to risk the chance that word would reach to others that a new Mage had been born. I was afraid they would come to kill you or take you away.” She took a shuddering breath. “So I put a seal on you so that if you did ever bloom, it would stay inside and eventually it would die. A smothered flame. You would never know the heartache that it would bring and you would be safe! From Vhasshal and from Aidus.”

Above her, Keral laughed humorlessly. “Why would she need protection from Vhasshal?”

Her glowing hands pulsed and burst into open flames. Her mother stared at Keral with pure hate. “How could you look at me and ask me that question? How many humans’ lives have you ended? How many have you eaten? How many of my people are dead because of you?!”

Keral stood, sneering down at the human woman. “Yes, I’ve killed. It was war. I’m sure none of you lot were gonna be losin’ any sleep over my rotting carcass. But I never have and never will eat a human. I know plenty who have. Far too many who enjoy it too.” He grabbed the edge of his blue ranger’s coat and pulled at it. “But I took this post to reign in that disgusting act and I won’t stand here and pretend I’ve been perfect at it, but I’ve spent the last decade picking up the fuckin’ pieces of what’s left of yer people and findin’ them some place to go. Far more of ye little fucks are alive than dead because of me.”

“You mean rounding us up and herding us all away from our homes!”

“Safer than lettin’ ye stay to wait fer the real fuckers to come around who really would eat ya and gladly too,” Keral growled. His eyes narrows and his mouth quirked into a knowing grin. “And I’m bettin’ you were one of ‘em, weren’t ya?” he jerked his head towards Nenani. “If yer really this one’s Mum, then most certainly. First few groups of refugees we ever came across we sent to the Southlands. As far from our country as we could get ‘em. Been thinkin’ she was one of ‘em fer a while and now I’m thinking even more that I’m absolutely sure ya were. Because I remember a snippy red haired lass who gave me hell chasin’ her down. And then she had the fucking brilliant idea to abandon her wee babe in the woods thinking I wouldn’t find her.”

“I was trying to protect her!” Oira shouted, the accusation stinging her pride. “There were blue coat everywhere. I was trying to draw you monsters away from her!”

Keral laughed sardonically. “Oh aye. And a right fine job ya did too,” Keral snapped back, gesturing down to Nenani. “She was waddling around callin’ fer ya all out in the open like. Yer lucky a wolf didn’t snap her up before I found her.”

“And then you threatened to eat her!” Oira screamed back. “How is that any better?”

“I wouldn’t have hurt a hair on wee head!” Keral replied, his voice loud and thunderous.

“Don’t lie to me, I remember! You dangled her over your fucking mouth you sick son-of-a-bitch!”

Nenani blinked, a strange swell of memory filtering through the haze. She remembered her mother pushing her into the roots of a large tree and telling her to be quiet. That she loved her. And then she was gone and Nenani had waiting for such a long time for her to come back. But she didn’t. She was all alone. So she had left the protection of the tree and started to wander around, calling for her parents, but she couldn’t find them. And then Keral had found her. He picked her up and...took her. He spoke softly to her when she started to cry. She remembered other rangers corralling a group of terrified humans together and then Keral held her out to them all, asking in an angry gruff voice, “Alright, which one a’ ye little fucks is the genius? Who’s lil’un is this?”

No one had answered, they could only stare and tremble, surely believing they were all going to die. And Keral growled. “No takers then?” Again, no one answered and Keral had grinned at them all, flashing his teeth in a deliberate display. “Ah, well...if no one wants her then...”

Suddenly he held her above his head and she was looking down into his open mouth as he dangled the small girl over it and she screamed, wailing and calling for her mother.  

“SHE’S MINE!” cried a voice from the throngs of the crowd and a woman pressed through and fell to her knees. “PLEASE! Let her go!”

“Mama!” she remembered screaming and feeling so afraid. The memory of that night faded and the sound of Keral’s shouting brought her back to the present.

“I was bluffin’ ya mad fucking cow!” Keral yelled back, exasperated. “Only a fuckin’ monster would do that! And as much as ye may think me one, I ain’t so deprived as to actually eat anyone. Least of all a wee babe. But ye left a lil’ girl all on her own without a lick a’ protection!” He reached into the large pocket of his coat and pulled something out. “And now I find ya again after all these years and yer out here doin’ the same damn thing!”

Keral opened his palm to reveal a small boy, weeping and curled into a ball. Her mother’s looked at the boy with wide wild eyes and the flame of her hands whirled around, agitated and angry like the fur of a bristling cat. “RELEASE HIM NOW!”

Keral didn’t flinched, his fingers closing around the little boy marginally. “I ain’t gonna hurt yer pup, girl. Now douse them flames. Yer scarin’ ‘im.”

“I’m scaring him?”

Keral snorted and shook his head. Bending down, he lowered his hand to let the little boy go, but the child did not move, too scared to even look around and could only shake and whimper pathetically. With a huff, Keral plucked the boy up with his fingers and sat him on his feet, nudging him towards Oira with a soft push of his finger. “Go on then, pup. Yer worryin’ yer Mum there.”

Nenani watched, numb, as the small boy chanced a glance up to Keral and fresh new tears falling from his cheeks, before he then turned to rush towards his mother. Oria flicked her hands and the flames died just as she bent down to scoop the small child into her arms and pull him tightly to her. “Haiyer! Oh, sweetie, you were supposed to stay hidden!”

“I got scared!” the little boy wailed. He had dark hair like her father and his eyes too. Haiyer, she thought dimly. That had been her grandfather’s name hadn’t it? Oria looked up to her daughter and seeing in her eyes confusion and want and so many questions. “I didn’t want you two to meet like this. I had hoped...nevermind. It’s done now.”  

Nenani didn’t move or say anything as her kther smiled that sad smile again and held her hand out to her. “Nenani, come to me. Please.”

She didn’t move at first, but she felt something brush her back and Keral’s voice washed over her as he said to her quietly, “Go on, sweetling.”

Nenani slowly walked towards her mother, not taking her eyes off the small boy. Her chest felt heavy and there was prickling behind her eyes. She slipped her hand into her mother’s and Oira gently kissed it before guiding it to the little boy’s chest. “Nenani. This is Haiyer. You’re brother.”

Haiyer turned to look at Nenani, blinking at her with large wet eyes. “...Nenani?”

“Yes,” her mother said to him sweetly. “This is your sister. Do you remember me telling you about her?”

Little Hayier pulled his hands from around his mother’s neck and turned to Nenani and wrapped them around her as though it were the most natural thing to do and Nenani stiffened under his soft little hands. “Hello sister.”

Nenani burst into tears as she wrapped her arms around the little boy, pressing her face to his hair. “H-hello...”

…………………………………………………………

“So where were you taking her then?” Oira asked Keral as he eased himself down to sit against the truck of a particularly large tree. Nenani sat in the dirt with Haiyer and together they were stacking the small rocks and twigs. Haiyer was very young. No older than five, maybe four, and wore a tunic clearly meant for an adult, but had been shorted at the bottom and the collar crudely sewn so it would sit on his small shoulders. He didn’t have any shoes either and it seemed awfully cold for a little boy t be wandering out without shoes.

Though Oira and Keral were no long shouting at one another, Nenani still felt the uncomfortable aura all around and she tried to keep her attention on her brother – Gods above she had a brother! - she would send nervous glances to the adults. Haiyer couldn’t relax either, but she assumed it was more to do with Keral’s presence than anything. He would repeatedly look over his shoulder towards where Keral was sitting and fidget nervously as though trying to decide if he should run away back to his mother or continue playing with Nenani. Keral didn’t seem to notice, or so Nenani thought. The fourth time the little boy turned to look at the ranger though, Keral was staring back and making a face. Haiyer jumped, giving a small cry of alarm and ran to hide behind Nenani.

“Now who’s the one scaring him?” Oira demanded, bristling.

Nenani grabbed up their stones and sticks and turned around, drawing Hiayer’s focus from Keral to her and the rocks and she showed him a bluish colored rock she had found, telling him to hold onto it. “It’s magic,” she whispered to him. Haiyer’s eyes lit up and he nodded back conspiratorially.

“What? I just looked at ‘im,” Keral replied in defense of himself and shrugged.

“Beleive me. It’s enough,”  Oria answered curtly and in clear displeasure. She looked over to where both her children were playing. “Now again. Where were you taking my daughter?”

“Back to Vhasshal,” He said simply. “Not safe fer her out here. Or you and the boy fer that matter. Lad doesn’t even have shoes fer fuck sakes.”

Oira glared at the ranger. “He grew out of his old one and it isn’t as though there’s a cobbler shop just down the way.” She rolled her eyes. “You giants all think the same. Just because we’re smaller than you that we constantly need your aide. It’s insulting.”

“Heh, well sorry fer bruisin’ yer pride, lass, but it don’t make it any less true,” Keral shot back. “’Specially now with how the world is. Ain’t many of ye left.”

“And whose doing was that?”

Keral leveled a warning eye to her. “If ye wanna play in that particular mud puddle, lass, I can fight pretty damn dirty. Or we can talk like the adults we supposedly are and set a good example fer ye lil’uns over there.”  

“Fine,” she said, grinding her teeth. “But still. Why the hell would Vhasshal be any safer for her then out here?”

Keral scoffed. “Woman, she’s been livin’ there with us fer almost three months.”

Oira looked scandalized and her fingers began to glow. “You’ve been keeping my daughter prisoner for three months?!”

“Oi! Douse that fire, girl! She ain’t been no prisoner,” Keral growled, waving his hand as though it would blow out the woman’s smoldering fingers. “My brother’s been takin’ care a’ her since she showed up on our doorstep in a fruit basket. Alone. By herself. Startin’ to see a pattern yet? Because I sure fuckin’ am.”

“What?” the woman asked, seeming to have a hard time following the ranger’s story. “What do you mean she ‘showed up in a fruit basket’?”

“Just as I said. Last day of the King’s weddin’ feast and that one there pops out of a basket a’...” He looked to Nenanai. “Oi, lass. What basket were ya stowin’ away in again?”

“Persimmons,” Nenani replied. “It was a basket of persimmons.”

“Aye, that’s right,” Keral nodded with a laugh. “Persimmons.”

Oira rounded on Nenani, incredulous and angry. “Wha...why were you in a persimmon basket, Nenani?”

“I got hungry and tried to just take one before the Beastmen noticed, but I fell in by accident and then I got stuck.”

“Where was Halden?” Oira demanded.

“...he died,” Nenani replied softly.

Oira’s anger drained from her face as she studied her child and sighed. “He...what about the others? Surly someone took you in? Casper or Juno maybe?”

Nenani shook her head. “No. They...they didn’t want me around. They said I was bad luck or cursed.”

A horrified understanding crept across her mother’s face and a wave of anguish took over.

Keral added, “One a’ my brother’s lads caught her runnin’ round the back kitchen yard.”

“His name is Yale,” Nenani told her mother, trying to cheer her up. It made her heart hurt to see her so sad. “He’s really nice, Mama.”

Oira did not say anything as she walked over to Nenani and crouched down behind her to wrap her thin arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. “They didn’t hurt you?” Oira asked quietly, seeming distressed and confused. Nenani shook her head and feeling her mother begin to shake, Nenani became concerned.

“Mama? Mama, are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she said, pressing her face into Nenani’s hair. “I’m sorry for not being there to protect you. I...I never thought Halden would...and then the others. Oh, baby you must have been so scared...”

At hearing her mother’s quiet weeping, Nenani could not hold back herself and just let the warmth of her mother’s touch coax out her own tears. She had never blamed her mother for not being there as she always thought she was dead and it would be so easy now to hate her for never having never come back. For those years she spent alone and just desperately trying to stay alive...but she was so happy she had her mother back that she didn’t care anymore.

Haiyer looked at them, joining in their collective weeping and crawled over to hug Nenani. All three of them stayed that way and said nothing. Keral watched them silently, a warm smile on his lips and when Nenani looked his way, he gave her a wink.

  “I’m glad...I’m glad there are still kind Vhasshalans left,” Oira said, pulling away. Nenani laid back so her head rested in her mother’s lap and seeming to not want to be left out, Haiyer got up and waddled over to his mother other side and laid his head down as well. She lightly stroked both of her children’s heads, an aching smile on her face. “Very glad...”

“Farris said he was gonna put me into the stew when Yale brought me to him,” Nenani said. “But it was a joke.”

“It’s just how Farris scares off thieves,” Keral added when he saw the look on the woman’s face. “Not so much nowadays, but he use to get humans comin’ in and stealing from the stores pretty often and there were still a lot of folks working in the castle who wouldn’t think twice about snatching a wayward human up. So he started puttin’ some fear into ‘em whenever he caught one. Threatened he’d eat ‘im and what not so they’d stay away. Then either let ‘em go or send ‘em to the Hill Tribes.”

“What are the Hill tribes?”

“After all the killin’ was over, the King put aside some land fer the refugees to set up as their own place within Vhasshal’s borders where his mandate and guards could protect them.”

“I don’t understand. What mandate?”

“Warren’s mandate,” Keral replied. “First thing he did when he was crowed was to declare it illegal to eat humans by punishment of death.”

“Warren...you mean the youngest Prince?” she asked, her interest piqued. “Why is he King? What of his brothers?”

Keral nodded. “Only son left. All the rest are dead. The war claimed ‘em along with a whole lot of other folks. His sister’s passed too. Birthing Fever.”

A pained looked fell over Oira’s face and she nodded. “I see. So his father is dead then as well, I take it.”

“Aye. A knife or two through the back’ll do that.”

“What?” she asked in real alarm and looked into Keral’s face. “When?”

“Been a while now. Nine years?” Keral replied, his face hard as he idly scratched his chin. “The man went mad with blood lust. The war had to end and it weren’t gonna do that while he still breathed. He wasn’t gonna stop until every human on the continent was dead.”

“So. He...he was assassinated?”

“He was. Funny that ye didn’t know that, lass.” Oira was silent for a very long time and Nenani observed her, she seemed to be thinking about something very hard. Her eyes flickered to Nenani and then to Haiyer and to Keral. Whatever was in her head, it seemed to trouble her greatly.

“Giant,” she said at last. She did not meet his eye.

“Name’s Keral, woman.”

“Fine. Keral,” she amended and turned her head up to regard the ranger with a serious and almost desperate expression. “Do you swear that Nenani is safe there? In Vhasshal? On your honor, do you swear it?”

Keral shifted and leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees and regarding the human woman with a serious expression of his own. “I do. My brother loves that lil’ girl,” he said with a jerk of his head towards Nenani. “And I guarantee he’s in pieces thinkin’ that dragon she burnt up had went on and killed her.”  

She took a deep breath and said, “I...I have a request for you, then.”

Keral quirked one eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Alright then.”

“Will you take Haiyer with you?”

The ranger looked surprised and then suspicious. “The lass I’m takin’ regardless. But why ye want the lad to go?”

“He’d be safer. Like you say, the wilds aren’t any place for a little boy. And winter will be here soon.”

Keral did not say anything for a few seconds and then said, “Yer not tellin’ me eveythin’ lass. Just a bit ago you were spiting fire at the idea of takin’ yer girl. Almost roasted my arse fer it. What inspired ye to change yer mind all a’ sudden?”

“Because I believe my daughter,” she replied. “… and because she reminded me that there was a time when your people and mine were friends. Before the war. And those people still do exist. In exchange for taking them...I will tell you a story.”

“Oh? And what story is that?”

“One only two people alive know.”

“Which is…?”

Oira sighed and took a long deep breath before she continued. “...if you agree to take my children to Vhasshal and swear that they will be safe there,” she said, a fire burning in her eyes as she looked to the Ranger. “Then I will tell you the truth of Crown Prince Thadeus’s death...”

[elfrootaddict]

HERALD OF ANDRASTE - Chapter 3/4

DESCRIPTION: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

SERIES: Halla & Wolf

VOLUME: 3

Lana cannot deny that she was slightly annoyed by the interruption. When she sketches, her mind wanders to far off places and thinks about pleasant memories or hopeful visions of her future. It is the best way to distract herself from her usual thoughts which are normally filled with countless worries and pessimism. 

However, after hearing one of Solas’s journeys in the Fade, she finds herself completely captivated and has to know more. 

It is common knowledge in Thedas, that magic and the Fade are intrinsically linked. Knowledge of the Fade amongst the Dalish has been understandably specific, and only suited to the needs of keeping one's clan safe. Throughout the ages, such precious knowledge has been passed on from Keeper to Keeper, and unfortunately for Lana there would almost never be any new insight into the mysteries of the Fade. 

And now, for the first time in her life, someone else can tell her more about the Fade than the Keeper, and Lana decides to seize the opportunity to learn as much as she can. 

Although she does not want to come across completely self-serving, despite her noble pursuit of more knowledge, Lana decides a bit of give-and-take between them is the polite thing to do before she asks him an abundance of questions about the Fade. 

“Before you go Solas, I was hoping, if it was no trouble of course, to tell me more about yourself? Where-”

“Why?” interrupts Solas skeptically with a sudden and unexpected shift in demeanor.

“Um... why not?”

“Privacy? Caution? Concern about the direction of this Inquisition once our work is done?”

Visibly uncomfortable by his indifferent response, Lana averts her gaze and turns away, “Ir abelas. I didn’t mean…,” and turns to look at him once more. “I wasn’t asking as someone whose part of the Inquisition. You don’t have to tell me anything. Ar dirth’ma.”

Feeling utterly embarrassed by the awkward tension between them, Lana’s cheeks flush with a soft hue of red as she quickly gathers her things to leave. This was not how she expected things would go by asking what she assumed to be a simple, innocent question.

Things really are different here than back home. Creators, I just want to go home.

Feeling guilty for his unnecessary impertinence, Solas relaxes his shoulders and releases a loud, audible sigh of regret, “No, I am sorry...with so much fear in the air...”

With her belongings collected and held tightly in her arms, Lana stands while still refusing to meet his gaze. Solas promptly stands as well and to Lana’s surprise, he continues to pursue with his feeble attempt at an apology.  

“Shall we go for a walk? We will feel far less of the cold if we’re moving instead of sitting idly.”

Lana pauses before turning around with a weak smile and murmurs, “Sure, that sounds like a good idea.” and Solas smiles softly in return, and gestures for Lana to walk ahead of him. 

Once reaching a lengthy distance between them, Lana turns around and watches Solas, with his staff in hand, catch up with her.

Only once Solas is at her side, does Lana begin to notice how tall he actually is. He may not be as tall as Lhoris, but he is still tall enough that she needs to turn her head up to meet his gaze.

Lana and Solas begin their descent down the steps towards Haven’s tavern and Solas eventually breaks the silence, “So, what would you know of me, da’len?”

Still feeling anxious by his cold response only moments before, Lana cautiously and hesitantly asks, “I was wondering… are you from the city? Only because I was told only city elves don’t have a vallaslin.”

“No.”

“But, if you’re not a city elf...”

“Not all elves are resigned to being either ‘city’ or ‘Dalish’. I, for one, have always preferred to keep to myself.”

“So, does that mean you’ve always been alone?”

Solas elaborates with a gentle smile, “Not at all. I have built lasting friendships. Spirits of Wisdom, possessed of ancient knowledge, happy to share what they had seen. Spirits of Purpose helped me search. Even wisps, curious and playful, would point out treasures I might have missed.”

Lana begins to feel a little more at ease due to Solas’s happier conduct and attempts to make eye contact, “I didn’t realise that there are Spirits that go by those names. Why haven’t I heard of them before?”

“They rarely seek this world,” answers Solas grimly. “When they do, their natures do not often survive exposure to the people they encounter,” Solas and Lana pass Varric’s tent and take a sharp left down a small flight of steps. “Wisdom and Purpose are too easily twisted into Pride and Desire.”

Shocked, Lana stops halfway down the steps and softly cries out, “So you’re saying... you became friends with Pride and Desire demons?”

Solas also stops and drops his head as he releases a loud, audible sigh before slowly turning around, “They were not demons... for me.”

Lana stares blankly at Solas as she tries not to jump to any immediate assumptions. Even though she knows very little, to almost nothing about Solas, he does not appear to be someone who is either naive or blissfully ignorant. In fact, he seems to have something of a quiet confidence. His strides always seem purposeful and with intent. Therefore, it they were not demons for him as he so claims, then as strange as it seem, the Spirits really were just as he says - ones of Wisdom and Purpose.

However, based on Lana’s bemused expression, Solas realises he clearly needs to explain, “The Fade reflects the mind of the living. If you expect a Spirit of Wisdom to be a Pride demon, it will adapt,” and gestures for them to continue walking onwards. “And if your mind is free of corrupting influences? If you understand the nature of the Spirit? They can be fast friends.”

“I honestly had no idea that some demons are actually... twisted, innocent Spirits. That’s… that’s actually quite sad,”

“Yes, it is.”

Looking up at Solas respectfully, “And you say that you managed to become friends with some of them? Without them even turning into demons? That really is incredible, Solas.”

Having reached the end of the stairs, they take another left and pass a merchant selling weapons and armour, “Oh! Oh! You are the Herald of Andraste!”

“Please, I’m not-”

“Why, it is an honour! Are you in need of anything? Please let me know what I can get for you?”

Lana manages to stop herself from correcting the man and chooses to humbly smile instead, “No, but thank you. I’m just passing by. You have a good evening, messere.” and offers a subtle nod of respect.

The merchant freezes and awkwardly bows nervously as Lana and Solas continue with their slow stroll through Haven. 

Once out of ear shot, Lana looks to Solas just as puzzled as the merchant, “Did I say something wrong?”

Lana’s naivety causes Solas to release a soft chuckle, “You addressed him with too much honour. You are the Herald of Andraste, after all. To him, the beloved Andraste sent you back from the Fade to save the people of Haven. He should be addressing you with ‘messere’, not the other way around.”

“But he’s still a human and I’m an elf. And I wish they would stop calling me the ‘Herald of Andraste’. I’m no herald of anything, least of all Andraste!”

“It matters not. The people of Haven will believe what they must. Posturing is necessary.”

Lana looks up at Solas with a deep set frown, “I won’t be deceitful.”

“I understand. However, you are a sign of hope to them, no matter your objections or beliefs.”

Lana ponders on Solas’s words for a moment before whispering, “It’s just… I’m Dalish, Solas. Dalish! How can I claim to be the Herald of their Andraste when my very vallaslin represents Mythal? I don’t see how-”

“Again, people will choose to believe, and even blissfully ignore, what they must. You cannot control this. What you can control however, are your actions,” Solas stops walking to regard Lana sternly. “How far are you willing to exert your power over their ignorance? Do you seek even more power? Glory perhaps? Maybe revenge for your people?”

Lana takes a step back and cries out, “I want none of those things! As I said before, I just want to help fix this mess so that I can go home!”

“And whilst I believe your intentions to be true, albeit naive, it is far easier said than done,” Solas takes a few steps ahead of Lana and stares at the Breach in the sky. “I have seen far too many tyrants and traitors in my travels, who always start with good intentions, only to be poisoned by their lust for more power. Constantly lying to themselves that their hearts have not changed, and that their goals are still pure.”

Angered by the insinuations, Lana lunges herself in front of Solas, “Are you saying that I will become a tyrant? Or a traitor?”

Unmoved by her outburst, Solas holds onto his staff with both hands as he peers down at Lana calmly, “No. What I am saying is that only time will tell. Hopefully, you have enough integrity that you may never be remembered as such,” and removes his gaze from Lana. “Although, history does have a way of repeating itself.”

Lana also averts her gaze and looks down at the mark on her hand. Although her face appears seemingly neutral, her eyes give away her internal struggles over her overwhelming responsibility.

Solas notices Lana’s silence and releases a quiet sigh, “I’m sorry. I only meant to advise. I was too forward with my questions.”

“No that’s okay,” murmurs Lana as she tucks her hand back under arm and looks up towards the Breach. “What you said is true. It’s just... I can’t believe this is happening. I may be First to my clan but this is something else entirely.”

“Yes, it is.”

As Lana continues to stare at the Breach circling above her, she slowly begins to lose herself in her mind, and almost forgets that Solas is still standing behind her.

Eventually, Lana snaps herself out of her ominous thoughts and turns back around to face Solas, “Ir abelas. What were you going to say before? Before the merchant?’

Solas brings his staff back to his side and begins walking once again, “We were talking about Spirits.”

Lana turns and walks alongside him, “Oh yes, of course. I still find it incredible that you managed to become friends with Spirits, Solas. It’s completely unheard of.”

“Anyone who can dream has the potential. Few ever try. My friends comforted me in my grief and shared in my joy. Yet because they exist without form as we understand it, the Chantry declares that Spirits are not truly people. Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?”   

Lana releases a loud and unexpected cheerful laugh, “Creators, that chest chair!” and continues laughing for a moment more. “And you have a good point. I really like the way you look at the world, Solas. I never thought of it like that before.”

Finding Lana’s laugh infectious, Solas releases a quiet, cheerful chuckle of his own, “I try…” and looks down at Lana with a slight grin. “And that isn’t quite an answer.”

“WelI, I’d love to meet one of these Spirits some day,” retorts Lana innocently as she regards Solas with her wide and welcoming lavender eyes. “Hopefully, we can try to make some new friends?”

Solas finds her cheerful manner infectious, considering the situation, and his smile widens. He actually cannot remember the last time he heard somebody laugh so easily and with so much joy. It was a sound he was not used to hearing, but it was a sound he found his heart ache for.

But, remembering who she is and especially who he is, Solas suppresses his emotions, clears his throat and stumbles out a dispassionate response, “That should be… well.”

Assuming his reaction to be only shyness, Lana playfully nudges him and laughs, “That isn’t quite an answer, either.”

They reach a fork at the end of the road where one path leads out of Haven and another to an unused trebuchet. They immediately notice a well placed boulder, low and wide enough for them both to sit on. Solas gestures for Lana to find her place first and he follows suit, holding onto his staff with both hands as he sits down next to her.

Resting her fur, parchments, ink and quill on her lap, Lana tucks some hair behind her right ear and turns to Solas, “Earlier, I remember you saying you travelled to many different places in the Fade?”

Solas smiles and admires the horizon, watching the setting sun fill the sky with its bright orange and pink hues. 

Solas begins to tell her about Ostagar, where the Hero of Ferelden and grey warden Alistair lit the signal fire only to have Loghain betray them and their King. As Solas looks out towards the horizon, Lana can see the passion glistening in his eyes as he every so often releases a subtle smile and cheerful head nods.

For a man who claims he would rather keep to himself and not engage with others, it takes surprisingly little effort for Lana to have him to open up and share his journeys so readily. It is almost as if she is the first person to ask him about them at all. 

Why wouldn’t people wish to know him? Or does he prevent them from doing so? 

Deciding it could be neither or it could be both, either way Lana can sense there is a lot hiding behind his silent, controlled exterior. 

Just like her father, Lana is highly sensitive and can usually, quite accurately, pick up on people’s subtle body languages. It isn’t so much as a literal observation as it is more a feeling. Just as one can sense another presence in a room; where you feel it deep in your bones, with your senses heighten, as you become keenly aware that you are not alone. 

For Lana, this level of sensitivity is both a blessing and a curse. Just as she can sense the nuances in people, she is also highly susceptible to being hurt by it. It doesn’t take a lot for her to feel emotionally overwhelmed and this is usually why being alone usually brings her such comfort or she would prefer to be around people that she’s completely herself with, and who truly know her.

Moved by another one of Solas’s journeys, Lana finds herself truly envious over his experiences and wishes she knew what he did. And that’s when it suddenly clicks. 

Lana almost leaps onto Solas with her eyes wide with exhilaration, “Solas! Enasal! Surely your travels took you to an ancient ruin of our people? Can you tell me anything about the ancient elvhen? Please, you must know something!”

Solas leans back displeased, “I thought you would be more interested in sharing your opinions of elven culture. You are Dalish, are you not?”

Lana also leans away in response and answers proudly, “The Dalish are the best hope for preserving the culture of our people,” and relaxing her stance, Lana cries out again with desperation. “Therefore I implore you, please tell me what you know. We can even find somewhere else to sit so that I can write it all down. Maybe the tavern, where it’s warmer?” and lifts up her parchments with a cheeky smile. “I already have what I need right here.”

Solas releases a loud, audible sigh and walks several paces away from Lana. As he surveys the sunset, he squares his shoulders while holding onto his staff with both hands and snaps, “Our people. You use that phrase so casually. It should mean more…” and pauses for a moment before murmuring. “But the Dalish have forgotten that. Amongst other things.”

Disturbed and shocked by Solas’s crassness towards her people, Lana struggles to verbalise her immediate thoughts and only manages a meek response, “I’m sorry?”

Solas, clearly irritated, turns on his heel to face her and barks, “While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade,” and spins back towards the sunset. “I have seen things they have not.”

Wholly offended by Solas’s tactless accusations, and also tired of his uneven mood, Lana feels her infamous temper bubbling beneath the surface. The longer Solas stares out towards the horizon in silence, the faster her heart begins to beat. 

Feeling like a kettle hanging above the fire, with the lid jumping and rattling as it reaches its capacity to hold the heat within, Lana clutches tightly onto the fur lying on her lap as she cries out, “The Dalish are trying to restore elven history! If you know something Solas, share it!”

Solas whips his head back around, “Would your clan listen to what I had learned in my studies? My travels? Or would they mock the flat-ear and his stories, and go back to their ruins?”

Lana gasps in anger as she shoots up, causing her belongings to fall on the ground and leaps towards him with fury burning in her eyes. Leaving only a few inches between them. Solas manages to hold his composure, but is internally floored by the extent of her outburst. Up until now, she gave no absolutely no indication that she is capable of such rage. 

What a serious miscalculation on his part. 

Solas immediately sees the error of his ways and regrets accusing Lana, and her clan, for crimes they did not even commit against him. It was unworthy of him and he knows better than to let his pride speak for him. Solas wants to immediately rectify the situation but realises it is too late. Nothing he does now will suffice.

“How dare you! Why do you hold such hostility towards the Dalish? What could my people possibly have done to you that they deserve such hatred?” Solas tries to interject but Lana continues shouting over him. “I may not know what the clans in Ferelden are like, but I do know that my Keeper would never turn away someone like you! You can’t paint us all with the same brush!”

Lana removes herself from Solas and begins to pace from side to side as she continues to reiterate her anger. “She’va dhal, lethallin! Why don’t you consider yourself elvhen? One of the People?” and with her hands stretched out in desperation. “Ma halani! Lasa ghilan!”

Lana’s face is twisted by the angst in her heart as she stares at Solas with her large, lavender eyes flicking with fury and frustration, while Solas continues to appear seemingly unmoved and calm.

Their pride, inflated. Her rage, unrestrained. And his regret, infinite. 

Realising that she is getting nothing but a cold response from Solas, Lana releases a loud huff, and spins around to gather her things from the ground as she cannot stand to be in this damn Fereldan cold any longer, and especially with such impertinent company.

Once she has her things firmly in her grasp, she turns back and peers heavily into Solas’s calm, dusty blue eyes, “Keep your secrets, then. Ma banal las halanshir var vhen... harellan.” and using her shoulder, she shoves Solas out of her way as she storms off in the direction from which they came.

Solas turns around and watches Lana push on as she heads towards her cabin lying directly ahead in the far distance. 

And as she brushes past the people, they turn around in shock towards Solas, and very quickly begin to gossip amongst themselves. 

It turns out, Varric was wrong. She can bite.

Elvish to English Translation:

“Ir abelas” = I’m sorry

“Ar dirth’ma” = I understand

“Enasal” = (emotion) Joyful relief

“She’va dhal!” = I’m struggling to believe what I’m seeing or hearing!

“Ma halani! Lasa ghilan!” = You could help us! You could guide us!

“Ma banal las halanshir var vhen, harellan” = You do nothing to further our people, traitor.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

READ ON AO3

Halla & Wolf Series

[perspective-series]

Werewolf Perspective (6/10)

By @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fighting, injury, talk of eating someone, and fear

(Check the reblog for links to the previous chapters!)

———————————————————————————————

 Roman’s tail wagged as he watched Logan gather yet another ingredient. He was having so much fun hanging out with his unofficial packmate.

 Speaking of, he had yet to tell Logan about the bond but it was fine. He’d tell him...eventually. “So, what’s the next item on the list?”

The next was perhaps one of the most dangerous ingredients of all. Logan wasn’t planning on retrieving them on his own, but now, with a giant werewolf as his protector… “naga scales.”

 Roman blinked, not having expected something like that. “Well...I do know where those are but it’s out of my territory.” Roman explained. 

“Oh, right.” Logan deflated slightly. “I suppose I should have expected such. I understand if you are unable to help me acquire them.”

 Roman’s ears flattened against his head at Logan’s sad look. Oh, oh no. He didn’t like that. “B-But it’s perfectly fine! We can find a scale on the ground left from a previous molt and we can be in and out of there before the guy even realizes we’re there.” Roman gave Logan a confident smile.

“...are you certain?” Logan asked, noticing how far Roman seemed to be willing to go for what was ultimately Logan’s task. It was admittedly odd behavior. Logan had never experienced anything like it. “I do not wish to push the boundaries of your hospitality.”

 “It’s fine! Really! Come on! Let’s go right now!” Roman grabbed Logan and began to head towards the naga’s territory.

“Why are you so eager to help me?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses.

 Roman tensed slightly but tried to laugh it off. “Can’t a guy just help another guy out?” Roman chuckled nervously.

“I suppose.” Logan frowned. “But it seems as though you’re going through an awful lot of trouble. Aren’t there other tasks you need to accomplish today?”

 Roman bit his lip as he realized there were some things he had planned on doing today. Refilling their food supply being one of them. But Logan was more important than that at the moment. “Nah.” He lied. “Well, other than relaxing but I wouldn’t exactly call that important. And I am happy to help.”

“I see.” Logan didn’t trust Roman’s answer. It was rare that a wild forest creature would be so inherently lazy. There were always tasks that needed to be done if only to ensure survival. Not to say Roman was a creature, but… well, he was a half-wolf living in the middle of the woods. 

 Roman continued to walk but paused as he was at the barrier between leaving his territory and stepping into the naga’s. With a deep breath, he passed over and kept on walking. He walked a few feet before kneeling down and letting Logan off. “Alright, hopefully there should be some scales down here somewhere.” Roman kept his voice down as he said this and scanned the area to see if he could find anything.

Logan scanned the forest floor as well, not quite sure what size they would be. He began to wander further in, hoping to catch a glimpse of some in the light, though here the trees were so intertwined it was hard for much sunlight to shine down.

 Roman was careful to keep an eye on Logan as he looked but his ear twitched as he caught the sound of something moving not too far away from them. His head snapped over in that direction and he growled.

Logan looked in that direction as well, taking a few steps back towards the wolf. “What is it?” He asked quietly.

 Roman continued to glare in that direction. “I’m not sure.” Roman admitted. He sent a quick glance to Logan. “Stay here, I’m gonna check it out.” Roman carefully stalked in that direction, exiting the clearing and leaving Logan alone for a moment.

Logan felt himself becoming nervous, hand once again going to his dagger. He turned slowly in a circle, trying to survey his surroundings.

 “Well well well. What do we have here?” A smooth voice spoke, seemingly echoing across the clearing. “Seems like the wolf has left his prey alone.”

Logan stiffened, pulling out his weapon. “Who’s there?” His tone was threatening as he whirled around, unable to spot the source.

 The voice chuckled. “Such a cute weapon you have there. What? Have you come to slay a ladybug?” The voice had a slight hiss to it.

“Show yourself.” Logan insisted, becoming unnerved as he had an inkling to whom he might be addressing.

 The voice let out a hum. “Are you sure? You might not like what you see.” 

“And why is that?” Logan asked, backing up. 

 A chuckle echoed around the clearing once more. But this time, it seemed to come from...right behind Logan. “Why don’t you turn around and see for yourself.”

The hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stood up, and cautiously he turned to face his foe.

 Dee towered above the tiny human, his giant half cut off at the waist and turning into a large snake tail. A snake tail that started to make its way around the human. Though not touching him...yet. He leaned down and smiled, showing his sharp fangs. “Well, hello there.”

Logan paled, craning his neck back to look the predator in the eye. Something told him that this naga would not be as forgiving about trespassing as Roman had back in the werewolf’s neck of the woods.

“Ah, hello.” Logan tried to back up, only to find his way had been blocked by more of the massive yellow tail covered in those precious scales. “Apologies for trespassing, we did not mean to disturb you.”

 “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” Dee replied. His yellow eyes looking the human up and down. “And tell me, what exactly are you doing here with that...wolf of all things.” He said it as if the word wolf disgusted him.

Note to self: Werewolves and Nagas don’t mix. 

“He offered to assist me in gathering various ingredients,” Logan explained, knowing deception might be worse. 

 “Hmm…” The naga hummed as he started to circle around the human. “Well, it’s a wonder why he didn’t just eat you...Or maybe he is simply playing with his food.” Dee nodded to himself. “Yes, that makes much more sense. So immature.” He shook his head.

Logan gulped, trying to keep his eyes on the creature- or, more importantly now, its fangs. “I’d hardly make a decent meal, I’m all skin and bones,” Logan argued, watching the circle around him grow slightly smaller as the naga drew closer.

 “Yes, you are rather skinny,” Dee said with a raised eyebrow. “You aren’t worth much, which is probably why the wolf wants to get the most out of you,” Dee smirked as he stopped in front of Logan once more. “To bad for him, leaving you alone out here. You will certainly make a decent snack.”

“No, I- I’m inclined to disagree.” Logan felt the blood draining from his face, with one step back finding himself pressed against scales. Where was Roman? He should be back by now. 

 Dee chuckled. “Well, I’m inclined to not listen to what you think.” Dee reached forward, intending to grab the human and finally make him his snack when a loud growl broke through the clearing. Dee didn’t have any time to react as a figure slammed into him, sending them both flying back and away from Logan.

Logan ducked just in time, nearly hit in the head as the two giants went flying. He looked over, heart rapidly beating as he recognized his furry savior.

 Roman had shifted into wolf form almost immediately after he saw the scene of the naga reaching for Logan. He was arguably stronger in that form, so it only made sense. He was on top of the naga, growling loudly. Dee grunted.

 “Well, hello wolf.” Dee wrapped his tail around one of the wolf’s legs. “And goodbye.” He tugged, sending Roman flying off of him and to the ground a few feet away. Roman landed with a small whine, but he quickly got back up.

Logan fell to the forest floor, knocked prone by the sheer force of Roman’s landing. He scrambled to his feet, desperately running back the way they had come from.

 Dee noticed this and tried to get in the human’s way but Roman ran to block his path. “Stay away from him!” He growled in his wolf tongue. And while the human may not have been able to understand, Dee did. He narrowed his eyes.

 “You came into my territory. That human is mine now. So move aside.” Dee hissed out before lunging at Roman again. Roman struggled but managed to throw him off. He was starting to breathe heavily as he glared at Dee. 

 Dee wiped away some blood from his mouth and looked at for a second. “Well, just for that, I’m going to make sure you watch as I eat your little human pet.” He spit out the word as he slithered to an upright position.

Logan’s blood ran cold, glancing over to shoulder to try and see who had the upper hand. It was impossible to tell, considering both contestants were beginning to look a bit weary. He didn’t like the implications that were being thrown around, and briefly, Logan wondered if he’d come out of this alive with either victor.

No, he had to stay vigilant. Just because Roman was a terrifying wolf creature now did not mean that he wanted to swallow Logan down.

 Roman’s growl was harsher at Dee’s words and Roman prepared himself before launching at Dee, tackling him to the ground once more. They rolled around on the ground for a bit before Dee was able to lash out and sink his fangs into Roman’s shoulder. Roman howled in pain but viciously shook Dee off of him.

 Roman bit the end of the naga’s tail, causing the whole body to seize up and curl into itself. Roman took this opportunity to grab Logan with his mouth by the back of his shirt and speeding off and away from Dee and his territory.

Logan let out a slight scream, startled as he felt himself swing back and forth as the world rushed rapidly past. His back muscles tensed, curling in on himself slightly as he felt Roman’s fangs pressed directly behind him.

 Roman didn’t stop until he was well within his own territory. He collapsed to the ground but was still mindful of Logan as he set the human down on the ground gently. He let out a low whine as he tried to move his shoulder. But his eyes were focused on Logan, looking him over for any sort of pain.

Logan paused to catch his breath, getting shakily to his feet. He still felt as though he might collapse, the adrenaline from that scare still coursing through his veins. He turned around to inspect his rescuer, noticing how exhausted the wolf looked.

“Roman...you’re hurt.” Logan realized, looking at the wolf’s wound.

[mrs-falcon]

Finally, I present you one of my main characters from my universe Shadows of the Real World - Raven. BASIC INFO: Full name: Raven Wintson - street girl - unheathly skinny (indigestion) - lives with Vincent who saved her life - really likes cosplaying (steampunk) - childish, good girl - permanently sad, but her acting skills make her look always happy Family: - father: Charles Wintson (Balinese x Short haired oriental cat) - mother: Sharon Wintson (Czech curly cat) - brother (oldest sibling): Jay - sister: Sparrow Gender: Female Age: 15 years (from the beginning of the written story) Height: 171 cm Species: Javanese cat (long haired oriental cat) Native language: British English Born country: Great Britain Formerly lived in: England, Austria Curently living in: USA Interests: Polytheism Special powers: Empath (feels others's emotions like her own) DETAILED HISTORY: Born into wealthy family Raven comes from a well known wealthy family of black oriental cats (especially from her grandpapa's side) in Great Britain. Many generations lived here until the day a new "trend" showed up - breeding and bringing up new species. By the time of Raven's gandpapa it was a hot topic - for that reason he arranged a wedding with Balinese cat (who moved into England from USA, not only because of the breeding but also because of her love for this country). But to the pair's bad luck their son was still a short haired oriental cat and a small hybrid. Even though their only son didn't have any signs of Javanesse cat, he was still bearing the typical features which inherited his youngest child - Raven. Raven's father, Charles, was very often told about pure blood and how the generation of black oriental cats in England is important to him, however Charles's parents never liked him. On a purpose he found a new wife for himself from a different breed - Sharon, a czech curly cat. The wealthy family had never run any businesses, so Charles came up with one - a fashion factory, "Wintson factory for modern age", were his wife helped him from the very beginning. When first child was born, Jay, Charles saw a perfect model in his son for his fashion factory. Jay worked in his father's factory for a long time until Jay's second sister was born. Jay was sick of that live - everything so perfect, always had to do as their father said. Jay simply didn't want to continue this empty life and didn't want his youngest sister to walk this way as well. Raven liked his brother and with time Jay spoiled her from little princess into gothic girl. Disappointing her parents As Raven grew, her features of Javanese cat were showing up. Her body was slim, eyes green like her grandfather's and tall figure. In few years Raven overgrown all of her family members, except Raven's grandpapa. Raven's grandparents truly loved her. "Look at this precious little girl! A beautiful pure Javanese cat!" Raven's father, Charles, could not stand this - seeing how his own parents preffer Raven over their own son. Charles grown cold inside and everytime he saw Raven, his anger and jealousy grew bigger. Raven's mother, Sharon, saw a perfect fashion model in her but Raven never enjoyed dresses and huge decorative hats. One day Charles decided to cut his relationships with his parents and with England and moved to the new start - his main reason was to separate Raven from her grandparents. That day Raven lost her grandparents and her beloved brother who left to start his own, new life. New country, new problems Charles and his family moved to Austria where his wife's, Sharon's, family helped them a bit. Meanwhile Charles was excited to start his business here, Raven was terrified. She knew Austria was just like Germany - ruled by Germand shepherds, dogs. "Don't worry, Raven. They love cats!" They hated cats - with the first time Raven entered new school, she got bullied by those german shepherds. They were chasing her just like a prey. Thanks to this, Raven was kept in her parents' house and was taught from her house. She was forbidden to leave the house. For another few years Raven spent locked like a rat in cage. Worst decision Charles's business was falling apart and luxury life was on a thin ice. Charles couldn't support all of his children and gave an offer to his second daughter - Sparrow. Sparrow always aspired to be a fashion model in her father's company but thanks to her wide figure, inherited after her mother, it wasn't possible. Charles suggested her a solution: "Either you take her far away from us and I'll let you become new model in my company, or your sister will take away all of  your fame and I won't help you with anything anymore." It was decided then. Sparrow bought fly tickets to America for Raven's birthday. Raven believed her sister and didn't find anything suspicious. However, on one public event Sparrow dissapeared. After few hours Raven went back to the hotel were her and Sparrow were accommodated. But to Raven's surprise, the staff stopped her and told her that Sparrow already left. "We saw her get in taxi which took her to airport." Raven spent her last money for taxi to take her to airport after her sister but it was too late. As Raven ran out, she saw her plane already take off. It was over. She was left alone. Life of a street rat Two month living on streets almost cost Raven's life. Autumn has begin and with growing hunger Raven was forced to enter the great city to find something to eat. To her bad luck, a local gang spotted her and tried to chased her out of "their region". However, Raven ran into dead end and the street rats taught her a lesson. Raven lost consciousness and didn't remember anything after that. Heros do exist After Raven woke up, she found herself somewhere in a metal building, where lived an older wolf. From the very beginning she feared him, but with time they got to know each other and she trusted him. As the time went, Raven built a new bond with her savior. She forgot her old family and accepted his new savior, Vincent, as her own father. Vincent was always there for her until the very end... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope the text is understandable This post/text describes Raven's detailed story, however, it's not all! There's so much more what will happen, but hopefully I'll tell you the story through writting or artworks :3 I hope you enjoy this, 'cuz it took so much time for me and I put a lot of effort into this... Vincent, you're next.

Artwork, Raven, story & SotRW (universe) © me

[wildmoonflower]

Love in the World of Death

Avengers Apocalypse AU

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary:

Zombie Apocalypse AU, where Y/N saves an Avenger from jaws of death and joins their group, finding more than just her brother  

Warnings: Gore, injuries, mentions of death and rape, some swearing, minor fluff and some smut (slightly dom!Steve x reader) at the end

A/N: This is my piece for #wxntersoldiers writing challenge with Apocalypse AU. Thank You for letting me join and congrats again on the milestone, Sweetpie

PS: I'm sorry, but I'm a slow-burn writer, I can't help myself and write under 10k words…

With a wet squelch, an arrow pierced through the skull of the undead man in front of you, watching as his body crumbled on the ground, slight twitches raking it’s body. Death of one of their own diverted the attention of three others from young redhead, whose foot was stuck in a net of roots, sticking out of the forest ground, leaving her vulnerable, armed with a small army knife.

Hooking the bow on her back, Y/N drew out her machete, sound attracting another undead from other woman, leaving just one creeper staggering to her.   'Why do I do this to myself?' Y/N growled under her breath, taking a quick step towards the closest creeper, beheading him with a swift slash, kicking to the left, hitting hideous dead woman in the knee, sick pop making her topple to the ground. Her head landed on a big rock, now soft-half rotten flesh caving in, almost exploding, her body not moving anymore. The sight made Y/N shudder, even after a week, when dead bodies flooded the streets, she couldn't help the horror creep in her body at bloody sight. Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as last two undead divided, almost as if planned, closing in on her from both sides. 

Movements of those two were faster, bodies looking too normal, probably recently turned. Dead man on Y/N's right charged at her, teeth clattering as he reached for her arm. Cutting down, machete severed the arm from the body, injury ignored as undead man continued his attack, body-slamming into hers. Dead weight was crushing Y/N's body, she was struggling to keep deadly jaws away from her shoulder where they tried to reach to chunk the flesh out and infect yet another victim. In the peripheals, second undead came closer, in Y/N's desperate eyes, almost victorious look on it’s pale face as it suddenly stopped, body twitching as a knife was stuck in it’s neck. Jabbing her heels into the ground, Y/N arched, body on top of her falling over her head, giving her enough time to turn around and stab in it’s head. Shuffle behind her made her body turn around, rolling to side as undead woman’s body fell crouched down, using the opportunity to grab the knife and twist upwards, this time grazing the spine and hitting the brain, body going limp next to her.

Y/N didn’t allow herself the breather her body demanded, pushing herself up to look at the woman, still half-laying on the ground, dead body next to her forgotten as she watched you with big eyes, worry etched in face, pretty even beneath the layer of dirt on it. 

"You okay?" Both women asked simultaneously. Chuckling, Y/N took a step closer and stopped as red head eyed the machete in her hands. "I won’t hurt you. Can I take a look at your foot?" Y/N sheated her weapon back in her hip holster and yanked the knife out the body, holding it with handle towards her, kneeling in front of her. 

"I got stuck when these things appeared. And it won’t budge." She said, slightly pulling her foot up, only to hiss from the pain, rough wood scratching her skin. "Don’t do that, you will hurt yourself. I will get it out. "Y/N said and pulled out machete, to which red head pulled her own knife, hand trembling. "I’m gonna cut the roots off, not your leg, don’t worry." Y/N held her hands up and looked into tired eyes. "If I wanted you dead or hurt, I would let them do that for me, don’t you think?" The argument seemed to put other woman more at ease as she lowered her weapon and looked away as her savior slashed at the wood, careful to hit the main root holding the net together. After a few minutes of hacking, the wood gave up and released it’s hold. Pulling the net apart, woman slowly pulled her foot out and rolled away, picking up small bag Y/N failed to notice in hazy fight. 

“Thank you," she breathed nervously, freed now she kept the distance again. "I’m Wanda." She smiled and after a second, she reached with her hand. Grabbing it, Y/N nodded her head, "Y/N. Nice to meet a living soul. I don’t mean to pry but why are you out here alone?" Y/N asked, taking a step back to collect her own bag, which she threw away as she charged to save the trapped woman. "I was separated from my group, we were on a supply run." She answered hesitantly. "I tried to go back to our camp but I panicked with those things behind me and now I’m lost." She said, Voice hesitant but honest. "Why are you alone? Did something happen to your group?" She inquired, taking in Y/N’s dirty and tired look. 

"I didn’t have one. I travel alone." Y/N answered, and kneeled down again, pulling out bandage and a small red-tinted bottle from her bag, motioning for Wanda to tuck up the jeans she had on. "Is there anything special around your camp? Weird looking tree, rock, anything? I can take you there." Y/N offered, patting her foot with disinfectant, supporting her not to fall as she started to hop around from pain. "I worked in forestry, I know my way around these woods."

"Explaines the bow." She hissed behind gritted teeth. "It was slightly uphill, a small clearing, there was a half-moon shaped rock to the west. And a tree-house, there is a small tree-house, with blankets inside."

Nodding her head, Y/N knew the place she described. "I know where that is. You strayed quite far from the place. It is a day away if we go now."

They were lucky, Wanda’s injury was not too bad to hinder from walking. It was nice to have a normal company, even as a lone wolf, spending a whole week alone after shit hit the fan, Y/N found the presence of Wanda nice, calming even. Pretty red head was not chatter-box either, silence between two woman was peaceful as they trecked through the green vegetation. 

"If I can, why do you use bow? Isn’t crossbow stronger?" Wanda broke the silence as they took a break, taking a small gulps of precious liquid. Y/N chuckled, shaking her head, "It is. But it also have slow-ass reload. This is enough to pierce in the head. And it’s not mine bow, it belongs to my brother. Archery is his weird hobby, well, my too." Y/N’s voice faded, lump in the throat clogging it. She wasn’t aware of her brother’s fate, as she wasn’t in the city when the outbreak started. 

"I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to-" Wanda started to apologize, Y/N waving her hand stopped her, she couldn’t trust her voice not to break. "We should find a tree on which we can sleep. It’s not safe to walk in the dark forest, we can continue after dawn." 

It didn’t took long to find the right tree, with it’s branches high enough not to be reachable from the ground and thick enough to hold the weight. Using the rope, Y/N tied their bodies to the trunk, not the most comfortable sleeping position but better than falling down in the middle of sleeping. 

The forest was restless as night came, rustling of leaves beneath the animal feets much louder in eerie silence of night. Wanda was not asleep, Y/N could feel her body occasionally twitch at the louder sounds, she could hear her soft mumbles which sounded like a prayers, fear and nervousness was apparent. Hesitantly, Y/N reached next to her, gripping her small hand, steel grip she received back was reassuring to both and soon, their bodies relaxed, using one anothers warmth. 

Morning came too fast and too slow at the same time, as gold-pink color shined on Y/N’s face, waking her up with a groan. Her body was stiff, neck painfully crooked as she was leaning on Wanda, who stirred awake too, groaning too as she stretched her hands in front her.

"Don’t move too much, or you will be upside down soon." Y/N chipped in too late as with a loud sqeal, Wanda slid to the side, rope stopping her fall as she dangled around, looking as very clumsy bat in her oversized black sweater. The sight made Y/N burst out laughing, painful cramp shooting in her side as she propped herself, catching Wanda’s flailing arm and pulled her up, face red with all the blood, panting from her squeaking. As soon as she saw Y/n’s face she snorted, another round of laugh vibrating around them. It was an alien feeling, laughing after such a long time. "Ready to go down?" Y/N untied the rope and threw down their bags, listening if their little outburst attracted some unwanted attention. The forest around them was calm, morning lights covering everything in red, pink and orange with golden undertone. It was beautiful sight, unfit to the world that was there.

The scenery was getting more and more familiar, even Wanda was looking around more and more often. It was good to know they were near as water was quickly disappearing, early fall was still somewhat warm, even with sweaters and jackets tied around their hips. "You know, you can stay with us. We are normal group, I swear." Wanda panted, she grabbed Y/N’s hand as she stopped to breathe, eyes honest. She could see Y/N’s hesitation, she gave off the feeling of a lone wolf, more open to idea of solitude surrounded by fauna and flora than to hang around with a group. But she had to ask, some pull in Wanda telling her to ask, make her think about it. The woman in front of her was silent, calm and more than capable of taking care of herself but the aura of sadness was breaking her heart. "Just give us a chance, we won’t force you if you will want to leave." Wanda smiled as Y/N slowly nodded, glad that she was willing to try. Silent woman grew to her, not only because she saved her, but her whole demeanor was somewhat familiar, she couldn’t put her finger on it, her mind was restless and stressed ever since the horrors filled the streets of every big city. 

Another half an hour of walking, Y/N broke the silence, her voice even more quiet. "I joined a small group, on the second day of outbreak. It was pure chaos and it didn’t felt right, the people around felt…wrong. But I was desperate, afraid" She looked at the red head next to her, her features hardening. "My hunch was right, the biggest pieces of human shit gathered. In a time without any law and order, they thrived. I tried to warn others who seemed normal, didn’t listen. I woke up to gunshots, they were shooting men and children, forced themselves on women. I was sleeping on the tree, saved my life when infected came. After that, I strained from any possible human interaction." Y/N’s eyes were ice cold, knuckles white from the grip, drops of blood falling on the ground from the punctures from her nails on her palms. 

"Then why save me?" Wanda asked, earning incredulous look. "I’m no monster to ignore a single woman armed with knife only about to get eaten by some creepers. And you also helped me, even though your knife-throwing skill could use some improvement." Y/N added and jumped aside to dodge Wanda’s clumsy kick on her bums. "We should arrive in less than ten minutes." Y/N lowered her voice, recognized the area they were in. Forest around was quiet, bad feeling settled in Y/N’s stomach. Turning around, she noticed Wanda stopped, holding her leg while crouching. "Wanda?" She asked, kneeling beside her, blood freezing as Wanda looked up, suddenly, she could feel the presence of other person, just a few steps away from them. Her hand itched towards the gun, hidden on her hip beneath the shirt she wore as a deep voice growled from behind.

"Don’t move. Hands up and step away from her." Y/N froze, shooting furious betrayed look at shocked Wanda, who limped next to her, shielding her with her own small body. "Steve, stop it! She is fine!" Another male voice sounded, little bit more to the left of Y/N, she could see dark outline of a big man, pointing a gun at her head. "You don’t know that, Wanda. Step away from her." "Yes, I do, Bucky! She saved my life yesterday!" Wanda spit, her voice strong and unwavering, followed by silence that left Y/N uncomfortable, who still didn’t turn around. She didn’t survive this long alone just to be shot in the head like that. "Wanda, just go to them." Y/N said, using her elbow to prod small woman towards the bodiless voice behind her back. 

"What weapons do you have on yourself?" Man to the left asked, taking a step closer. Circling the shoulder, Y/N moved the bow on her back. "Bow, machete on the hip and gun in the hip holster." She answered through gritted teeth, she felt that they were not going to kill her but to give away all her weapons was still against her taste. "Hand them over." "Hell no."

"Y/N, please, I swear, we won’t hurt you, they will give them back." Wanda came in front of her again, eyes pleading. Her body was slightly shaking, giving up her weapons meant letting herself be completely unguarded, even with her fighting skills, two large men was too much to handle. "Don’t shoot." She muttered, her hand slowly made a big circle to her hip, showing exactly what she was doing. Man behind stepped in front of her, quickly grabbing sheated machete and gun in the holster. He eyed the bow on her back as she handed him the quiver, earning a huge scowl. "Not giving you that." Y/N’s voice was resolute, she stood strong against the man who towered above her, she was right about their height and muscles, she looked almost tiny, even with her taller form.   "Are you done?" Wanda hissed at the man, Steve, and grabbed Y/N by her forearm, "and I just told her you guys were normal." Her anger was tid-bit funny, it made Y/N’s lips twitch despite the not-so-pleasant situation. "You said you will give us a chance. Do you want to leave?" Wanda asked worriedly, to which Y/N laughed, with a very sardonic laugh. "Doesn’t seem I’m welcomed, Wanda." Looking to her left, men were deep in conversation, glancing at her now and then. It gave her chance to look at them, now that they were not standing behind her. Both were tall, strong-build, one sporting a light stubble and hair down to the shoulder, other one with a few weeks old beard and bit longer hair that fell in his eyes. Both were covered in dirt and showed same weariness as Wanda.

Noticing she watched them as a hawk, the one with darker blond hair, Steve, stepped closer: "Sorry for the rough handling but we can never be too sure." He said, now that he was barking orders, his voice was nice, but it didn’t make Y/N drop her guard. "Look," he sighed, brushing his hair out of his face, "we can go to our camp but I wanna check you up for weapons myself. There is not lot of us, I won’t allow another loss." His eyes were telling the truth, he believed what he told. Y/N was hesitant, did she really want to risk seeing people possibly die again? But the soft hand on her shoulder, Wanda’s warm hand, reminded her of the nights she wished to feel presence of others, not just rustles of animals around her. 

Y/N closed her eyes, sighing. "Fine." She rised her hands slightly, right next to her head and parted her legs, nodding at tall man to do his thing. His touched surprised Y/N, it was firm and yet, somewhat gentle as he patted her clothed arms and waist. When the pat on her thighs wasn’t coming, Y/N opened her eyes, surprised to see a pink hue on his face as he hesitated, a snort coming from other man. "Just get to it, Stevie, she doesn’t bite." He teased his friend and Wanda giggled, faking it as a cough when Y/N looked at her with creased brows. Fast few taps landed on her hips, thighs and calves and Steve quickly stepped back, nodding his head at other man, Bucky. "Let’s go to the camp." He huffed, "Sorry, doll, I will give this back later." He swung her weapons under his arm. "I’m James, but call me Bucky." His demeanor was puzzling, as his speech went from guarded to relaxed and back again, his eyes still guarded. He pulled the bag off Wanda’s back and gently shoved her gently to the right direction, asking her about her leg. Y/N stood there, unsure of what to do, jumping a little as a hand brushed her shoulder, it was Steve taking her bag from her. "I’m Steve, nice to meet you. Sorry again for this." Y/N brushed him off, following the forms of Wanda and Bucky. "You said it yourself, one can’t be too sure anymore. But I expect to get my bow back tomorrow." Y/N answered and turned around again, looking at the blond man, "I’m Y/N."

Y/N was right, the camp was not even ten minutes away. There were other people, creating a circle around Wanda, even though Y/N didn’t know them, she get the feeling they were close, more than just bunch of friends. They were a family, a man with goatee cupped her face while a pale man, who looked really nervous kneeled beside her, checking her scratched foot. "And who is this?" A dark-skinned man came to Y/N and Steve, curiously checking her out, same wariness in his eyes.

"Sam. Another survivor, Y/N, she saved Wanda." Steve introduced the silent woman beside him as others came closer. Looking at them, Y/N silently thanked Bucky that he took her weapons, she knew her resting bitch-face was not exactly putting people at ease. "What about others? Tony?" Steve asked and goatee-man shook his head, shadow passed his face.

"Legolas and Red are still not back, they do not answer their walkie-talkie. Last contact was yesterday before the sunset, they were still looking for Wanda." "Where exactly did you went for the supply run?" Y/N asked suddenly, looking at Wanda but before she could open her mouth, Tony interrupted, crossing his arms on his chest. "Why? It won’t help if another person gets lost in the forest and bow will not save you, Merida."

"First of all, a headshot is still headshot, even with bow. And second, I worked as a ranger, I know my way around these-" Y/N snapped back and stiffed as a voice from behind the group shouted, her mouth opened in shock. "We found a couple of footprints and bunch of dead bodies. Two sets of footprints left the place, one must have been Wanda’s." A very familiar man appeared between the trees, red head woman right beside him. "What are doing?" He asked as his eyes fell on the newest addition to the group, stopping in his tracks, same shocked expression on his face. "Y/N/N?" He whispered, taking a step back. A strange nasal noise, something between laugh and sob, escaped Y/N’s mouth, who took running towards her most important person in the world. "Clint." Y/N whispered as Clint hugged her, kissing the top of her head. She used to hate that but now, she just clung to him, to her brother she thought dead. A warm, small hand landed on her shoulder, peeping to her right, Natasha stood there, smiling, her eyes suspiciously shiny. Y/N tried to move towards her, finding it impossible to move.

"Clint," Y/N tapped his side, man not moving, even tightening his embrace. "Clint, I can’t breathe." Y/N gasped as he let go of her. She was immediately hugged by smaller woman, who squeezed her even more. "Nat." Y/N hugged back, so glad for her privilege of doing so, she knew Nat was not touchy-feely person, let alone a hugger.

"When the hugging party is over, can someone explain? Is Legolas and Katniss together ‘together’ or what?" Tony broke shocked silence, ignoring the jab in his rib by a blond woman next to him. Clearing his throat, Clint waved his hand to Y/N and Nat: "Guys, this is Y/N, my younger sister. Yes, that introvert sister who likes animals more than people-OW!" He exclaimed as Y/N kicked him in the back of his knee, making him tumble down.

"I’m not giving you back your bow, asshole." Y/N crossed her arms across her chest, people around them chuckling at stupid interaction. "Well, now we have another weirdo in this group. You will fit in this group of misfits. I’m Tony, Stark." Tony stepped up and finally introduced himself and others. Strawberry blond woman was his wife, Pepper Potts, who smiled at you kindly. Other unknown was Bruce Banner, nervous looking man who was currently disinfecting Wanda’s ankle, and Sam Wilson, the pleasant of the trio, Bucky Barnes being the careful and broody one and Steve Rogers, the polite one, if you are not seen as a threat.

Night came sooner than Y/N expected. Getting Wanda to her group, fighting with Bucky and Steve for her weapons and finding out her brother was alive took a lot of energy from her and she found herself doing something she never did before: nodding off among relatively unknown people. Sure, now that Clint was there, she remembered his stories with his cop buddies, his patrols with Nat and Sam, the constant war between Bucky and Sam and Steve, being the proper police captain, trying to make them stop and immediately being sassed by Tony, who worked as forensic scientist, often accompanied by Bruce, medical examiner. From their late-night calls, she knew them but meeting them in person, her social insecurities tended to make her seem cold, uninterested while her insides were in turmoil. And yet, sitting in the circle around the fire, she felt calm. For the rest of the day, Clint followed her like a puppy, her assuring falling on deaf ears (I’m sorry). Clint was always protective of Y/N, even after teaching her fight and shoot.

"Where have you been when this all started, Y/N?" Nat asked, question silencing the conversations around. Sudden silence made her nervous and shifted her weight on the log she sat on. "At the farm, I was getting ready for work. I had no idea what was happening, when a family of three banged on the door, their kid was bitten. I should have known something was wrong, Kiki was going crazy outside." Y/N answered, her stomach churning at the memory of a married couple and their small daughter, who laid in father’s arms, unconscious, blood soaking through pink dress with cloudy pattern, ripped on her side with hideous bite mark. "Who is Kiki?" Tony asked as he sat on the ground, disassembled gun in front of him. 

"Y/N’s favorite sheep." Clint answered, watching the crackling fire. His voice was dull, distant. He already knew the horrors his sister have witnessed, while others seen her face unchanging, he could see the pale color on her face, her hands now clenched in fists non-stop. Y/N was strong, he knew that but more she tried to put distance between her and reality, more affected she became, guilt and pain consuming her from within, never sharing her worries and thoughts, hiding them behind sarcasm and coldness. 

"They were in shock, couldn’t tell me what happened. I went for a first aid kit when kid changed. Her father had his head right next to her, I just heard the screams when I came around. Father changed quickly and the woman just sat there, looking at them and screamed. I couldn’t move her." Y/N balled her hands, wanting nothing more than to push them in her eyes, to try pushing the images out of her head with brute force. "I only grabbed the bow by the back door and my backpack and got out. I didn’t even notice when other infected got close to the house, suddenly, they were there. And so I ran." She finished, silence was deafening as they processed what they heard.

Looking across the fire, Steve was watching Y/N. He could read between the line and her expressions, her seemingly expressionless face was same as Bucky’s when he didn’t want to talk about his time in Iraq, beneath the surface boiled pain, insecurity and self-loathing. The woman in front of him was tough, her stubbornness and spunk rivaled those war veterans he met and yet, there was something vulnerable about her. The way she let others talk, how she kept her eyes trailed down on the ground and small gestures towards Clint and Nat to assure them, both acting like her older siblings. She’s been hurt, she has seen things that made her wary of others. 

"How does night watch work here? Two people are on lookout whole night or do you rotate after few hours?" Y/N asked as she reached into her bag, pulling out a bag of beef jerky, passing it around, punching Clint in the ribs when he hogged almost half to himself. "One person is enough, they wake next lookout after few hours. Every night different lookout." Clint said with his mouth full which earned him a scolding look from Steve and a laugh from Bucky when he choked on a water which sprayed out of his nose. Y/N and Nat shook their heads, occasional piggy-manners no longer made them react, only Y/N smacked his back a few times, eliciting a moan of pain from Clint. 

"In that case, I can take first half of the night." Several people opened their mouth to oppose when Nat scowled, forcing a silence to fall. "Let her, she wouldn’t fall asleep for a few hours either way." 

"But I want my quiver back." She looked at Bucky who rolled his eyes and reached behind him, throwing her weapons carefully. "I think this is the cue to hit the night, all of you." Pepper stood up and silenced Tony who seemed not ready to do so. 

Sleeping arrangements were not most comfortable. Beds for men consisted of layered up clothes in a circle around the fire, Wanda and Pepper getting only two rolled-up sleeping mats and climbed the small tree-house. All supplies they had now consisted of what they found on their escape from the city or what they had on them.

Y/N sat by the fire, poking burning logs with a stick. It took a while for everyone to lay down, they were noisy, conversations were dying down and flaring up again, just to be shushed by the people next to them, occasional groans and giggles escaping. Y/N was surprised, despite the situation they were in, ‘Avengers’, how Clint jokingly called them, referring the time when they relentlessly chased and destroyed biggest drug cartel called Hydra, behaved like a kids on a school trip, not like most feared and efficient police team in state. Tranquility finally fell when Y/N stood up and looked around. The clearing where group was camping was in a good spot, an uneven circle was blocked from south by big rocks, making it impossible to go on them without making ruckus or breaking a leg between the gaps in the rocks. Eastern and western side was a clean space, trees growing sparsely, Y/N would see and hear anyone or anything, would they try to sneak up on them, dry leaves littering the soil preventing of doing so. That left her with north, trees growing bit thicker, giving her a good spot to perch herself, easily looking over the sleeping group, tree-house and the darkness that lurked outside the warm light of the campfire. Stepping softly between sleeping bodies, Y/N bent down to pick up her bottle when a hand gripped her wrist. A strange strangled sight slipped past her lips as her knees buckled, her face now close to Steve’s, his shocked eyes almost shining in the shadows.

"What the Hell are you doing?" Y/N hissed, her heart beating somewhere in her throat, face slightly pink, which she hoped will passed unnoticed sue lack of light. She thought he was asleep already, as his eyes were closed, breath steady and face still. She couldn’t help but notice tall man that have sat opposite of her. When he was not scowling at her with gun in his hand, his face was handsome. But the attraction went beyond that as she saw him interact with others, the way he joked with Bucky and Sam for one minute and the other he was serious captain, the leader that had no intention of losing anymore of his people. He was pulling her eyes to him, his serious face while planning what to do next, his kind face when he talked to Pepper or Wanda when the fear or nervousness got the best of them, even his embarrassed face when Nat whispered something to him, his face turning pink. 

"Sorry." Steve whispered, his thumb unconsciously stroking the soft skin inside of Y/N’s wrist soothingly, she could feel the warmth spread on her cheeks and ears, hoping the darkness around them is enough to hide it. "Just wanted to say to wake me up when it’s time to switch. It’s my turn today." Somehow, Y/N doubted it was his turn, eyeing the dark circles under his eyes that seemed almost inked on the skin. Y/N nodded her head, ignoring the wrinkles forming on his forehead on dodgy answer and stood up. She felt his curious eyes on her back as she went up to the tree and began climbing quickly as a squirrel, soon sitting on a thick branch, one leg bend in the knee, back pressed against the rough bark, scratchy feeling putting her on ease.

Night was dragging on but Y/N didn’t mind. It gave her time, time to think of what happened, what could possibly happen next, forcing her thoughts not to go apeshit negative. Forest was calm, fortunately, no living beings appeared, just occasional ruffles of leaves from small animals disturbed the peace of silence. To keep anything bigger away, Y/N had to keep the fire burning. She was surprised she hadn’t waken up anybody as she shuffled around them, pushing wooden locks around the pit to make criss-cross pattern to keep fire burning as long as she could. 

Drowsiness finally took over when the sky began to show first signs of dawn. Running her hand down tired face, Y/N climbed down, her muscles quickly turning stiff. Yelping in surprise when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, she whipped her body around, swinging her fist in drilled instinct. Her eyes widened at the sight of Steve, who had a strict look on his face, but she couldn’t stop the punch as it connected. Thankfully, not with his face but a palm of his hand, as he caught her hand and pressed her in the tree with his weight, stopping her knee from shooting towards the place where sun doesn’t shine.

"Can you stop sneaking up on me?" Pinned woman snapped, ignoring the knot forming in her stomach. He was closer to her than any man for a long time and her reaction towards him scared her. His stupidly handsome face was close to hers, he was towering above her even when he was bending down a little, the look in his eyes almost… feral. He smelt… like a man, obviously but the smell of dirt, sweat and a hint of leather made Y/N’s hair stand on the back of her neck and her mouth dry.-

"I said to wake me when it’s time. That was three hours ago." Steve said, his voice low,  his hand still gripping hers as he raised them above her head, breath hitching in her throat.

‘Pull yourself together.’ Y/N reprimanded herself as she blinked fast, trying very hard not to look down. "I was not that tired yet and it’s calm either way. And I was on my way to wake you up now." Y/N retorted and tried to push him away discreetly but it was like trying to push again the wall. 

"There is a reason we set some rules, if we all start to ignore them, chaos will take over and that usually means people get hurt." Steve answered, either ignoring or not noticing Y/N’s growing tension. "Okay, I’m sorry." Y/N lowered her gaze, the authority and reason in Steve’s voice too strong to ignore. Heat flooded Y/N’s cheeks as his hand raised her head up to him. "I didn’t hear you, Y/N." His eyes were of that dark blue color and the way he said her name made Y/N panic.

"I said I’m sorry. Can I go sleep now?" She squeezed out of herself, looking in those damn eyes that were so darn hypnotizing. Her high-pitched squeak snapped Steve of his trance and he felt his face turn pink. His hand let go of hers and stepped back from her, giving her chance to slip past him from little cage he put her in. It has been a while since he let himself slip, Barton’s younger sister did things to him he hadn’t felt for a long time, her strong manners hiding her vulnerable, kind soul made him want to strip that façade down. ‘Calm down, Rogers, it’s Clint’s younger sister. Stop it or you will get an arrow in the eye.’ He coughed and looked at the smaller woman, who seemed to wait for just one word to bail. She noticed, she felt that side of him just now, her eyes appearing bigger as they looked everywhere but not in his eyes. "Of course, sorry for making you wait. Sleep tight, Barton." ‘So suddenly it’s Barton. Very smooth, Rogers.’ Steve said, forcing his sight from her flushed face, looking around the camp, his heart skipping a beat when he noticed a smirk on Natasha’s seemingly sleeping face. 

Muttering quick good night, Y/N almost sprinted towards her sleeping bag she hogged to herself. Her legs felt like a jelly, even trembled like one. The place where Steve’s hand gripped her wrist was on fire and still was nothing compared to the feeling in her stomach and southern regions. Y/N seldomly reacted so strongly to close proximity of men but the warmth, the smell and the dominance that lurked behind that calm face made her breathless, her heart beating so hard even snoring Clint must’ve heard it.

In her hurry to lay down the sleeping bag between Nat and Clint, Y/N failed to notice a smirk on Nat’s face, her green eyes slightly open, mischievous spark hidden in the light of sunrise, closely watching her friend laying down while other stood guard by the same tree, blue eyes watching her every move.

A series of giggles pulled Y/N slowly out of her sleep, her ears registered a single shushing sound, followed by more, louder giggles. She was hot, no, she was almost swimming in sweat and her body was heavy, she couldn’t move her arms and legs. She started to wiggle, her attempt to shake free met with only more laughter. A light erupted from behind her closed eyes, making her wince and open her eyes, just a small gap. There were two sets of boots just in front of her, one boot moved back and somebody kneeled next to her. It was Steve, his face was bright from the sunlight that shone on his face, amused look on his face as his hand softly pushed the hair out of Y/N’s eyes. 

"You okay there, Barton? Do you need help?" He asked, smiling at sleepy, dumb-founded face. "What?" She asked, her voice raspy and dull, trying to wake up. "Why can’t I-?" She wiggled again and looked around, her eyes widening at the comical sight she and Clint offered. Sometime after she fell asleep, Clint rolled from his pile of clothes and on top of her, his body sprawled, pushing her body down into her sleeping mat. His leg was thrown over hers, trapping Y/N in her sleeping bag, cutting off any cool morning air that could reach her, slowly raising temperature causing her to sweat profusely. "Clint." Y/N groaned, wiggling one hand free and patted backwards, hitting his side, his groan made people around them burst into an open laugh, Y/N’s face burned at the image they must have made. "Clinton, get off me, you prick," she doubled her effort but dead weight of her brother was too much.

She turned to Steve, her face once again burning. ‘Number of times I have blushed in front of this man…’ She sighed in defeat and looked up, not noticing how his breath hitched: "Can you get him off, please? I’m hot."   ‘Yes, you are.’ Steve’s brain was boiling. His eyes was glued on the woman in front of him, helplessly lying on the ground with pleading eyes, making his thoughts crazy with indecent thoughts while his Neanderthal side of brain wanted to throw Clint away. ‘It’s her brother, Rogers, stop being an idiot.’ He growled at himself and forced his hands to roll Clint away, calmly. God, what that woman was doing to him. He hasn’t felt that way about a woman since Peggy and that being long time ago, his patience was thin, almost non-existant, just the manners his Ma tought him and respect towards Clint’s friendship hold him back from what Tony called aggressive courting. So his smile was visibly forced as he grabbed Y/N by her hands and stood her up, the muscles tensing as he caught her smell, subtle sweet scent of mint and soil and sweat. 

"Whaaa…" Clint whined on the ground, covering his eyes in the crook of his inner elbow. Crouching down next to him, Nat ripped the mat from underneath him, nudging him in the side with her foot. "Get up, Clint, we will not pack your things while you snore and bother Y/N." She nudged again, smirking at the whining sound Clint eluded. "Y/N slept too and you are not kicking her." He complained as he threw his stuff around like a pouting kid, earning a slap on the head from passing-by Bucky. 

"She had a night-watch, birdbrain. What’s your excuse again?" Tony sassed him, pushing his little tinkering set in his bag. "My heart and soul was with her all night long." "Heart and soul my ass." Clint rubbed his head, "I want my coffee." Muttering under his breath, he noticed Y/N still standing, with absent-minded face. "Earth to Y/N, sit your ass down and start packing." "What? Oh, yea, sure." Y/N flinched and started packing, wiping the lack of sleep from her eyes. "Clint, how did you get out of the city?" She asked. Army and law enforcement were usually called in first to the very epicenter and with the number of bodies, littering the neighborhood streets, it must have been a Hell on Earth. 

Stopping for a minute, Clint‘s eyes glazed over, getting lost in the past. "We got out because of Rogers and Stark. Even whole police department and army couldn’t stop the infected, they changed too fast. We were almost instantly overwhelmed but as soon as most of the civilians got out, Steve ordered to fall back. Thanks to Stark and his cameras, he got us out of the city without meeting some huge resistance." He rolled Y/N’s mat bit more aggressive, punching it to make it slip in it’s cover. "We still lost a lots of our people. Hill, Fury, whole Alpha and Omega team, we saw them get down and up again." His voice was strained, hands balled into fists, knuckled turning white from the tight grip. Without missing a heartbeat, Y/N pulls Clint to her side, ignoring the stare she felt from Nat or whoever was behind and pressed her cheek on top of his head. She knew Fury too but he was not as much of a father figure to her as he was to Clint. "Nat and I tried to get to him and Hill but…"

"Clint. It’s okay. Do you know what Fury would say on that, risking your life carelessly?” "It would be a stupid-ass decision." Clint’s voice intertwined with other, Nat kneeling next to Y/N, the light in her eyes dull, eyes rimmed red. She positioned her body the way that nobody but Y/N and Clint saw her hand squeezing Y/N’s for a second, sending a quick thought for her friends. They both took a second to collect themselves, Clint cracking his knuckles as Nat checked her gun.

After a short peptalk from Steve and some less serious quirks from Tony about their next moves, group was on the move again. If the situation wouldn’t be so grave, it would be almost funny to Y/N: Avengers were certainly not good at sticking together. Soon, Tony and Bruce fell behind the group, both arguing about the virus or whatever caused the outbreak, throwing around words like: patient zero and incubation period. Wanda stuck to Bucky and Sam, who were leading the group, bickering above the map they both held, occasional shoulder push followed with a hiss or a certain finger raised. Clint and Nat disappeared somewhere but nobody worried that much, both could track and Nat would make sure Clint wouldn’t do anything too stupid. 

That left Y/N and Steve, walking in silence. Y/N felt the eyes burying in her back as she walked a few steps ahead of tall Captain, trying her hardest not to quicken her steps. Short hair on the back of her neck stood, the feeling of being watched like a prey was making her nervous and yet, everytime she glanced back, his face was calm and collected, sometimes starting a pointless little talk about weather, their next best possible camp or if she is not tired or thirsty. He was getting under her skin, not even a full day after he pointed his gun at her, low-key threating to shoot her. She felt the pull, that morning when he surprised her by the tree, or when he helped her get Clint off of her. 

Y/N’s mind wondered to the latter, remembering how Steve picked her up, his hands firm on her hip and other hand on the small of her back. Sure, she was sleepy but there was undeniably possessive aura around him for a second, his sky blue eyes turned stormy blue with supressed emotion Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on. The sound around them seemed to stop when his stare shifted from her eyes to her lips, leaving her breathless. And suddenly he let go, Bucky passing by slapping Clint’s head brought her back, knees wobbly, her mind desperately trying to think of something else than the raw need she saw flashing through Captain’s eyes, the need she felt in her lower stomach.

“Don’t!” Y/N thought, shaking her head, “This is no time for stupid crushes. Concentrate on the situation you are in, stupid.” She berated herself and with a final tap on her cheek, that turned little harsher than she wanted, she pushed intruding thoughts and deep blue eyes out of her mind.

**Few days later**

"Okay, people, you know the drill. Stick together, keep low. Grab everything you deem necessary and we will meet here in two hours sharp.” Steve ordered to the people around him standing in pairs, Nat with Clint and Y/N with him.

Situation got desperate when Pepper fell ill and basic anti-inflammatory pills had no effect, driving Tony almost crazy. It took Bruce and Rogers almost two hours to dissuade him from going to city by himself, Bruce wrote bunch of possible meds for others to find, also adding quickly disappearing water to the list, due to high temperatures and no rain, only small pond nearby that was way too murky and muddy to be safe to drink from.

Mood got considerably worse, laughter and chatter reduced to almost nothing as Pepper coughed and somewhat distant, almost cold stare Y/N were giving to Steve did not go unnoticed. Her mind was focused on surviving and helping the group. So when Rogers asked for volunteers to the most possibly a death trip to the city, she didn’t hesitate to raise her hand, earning a scowl from Rogers, Nat and Clint Y/N ignored. Even Bucky and Sam were against the idea but were shot down with her reasoning. After all, she alone, even with help of Tony, wouldn’t be able to defend the camp if infected were to attack. 

And so now, Y/N was kneeling down next to Rogers, Nat and Clint, city streets still littered with shredded, rotting bodies literally around the corner. Theoretically, their mission was simple. Find the nearest pharmacy, look for useful medicines, the best while not crossing path with no undead monsters. Practically… it was already doomed to be harder as street before them was already occupied with death on legs. 

“What now?” Nat asked, her face rid of any emotion, unlike Clint and Rogers who gritted their teeth at the sight of occasional dead cop walking around. “We could take them on, there is not that many of them,“ Clint suggested, “even without using any firearms.“

“That’s dumb idea.“ Y/N shook her head, interrupting blonde Captain. “We don’t know how they behave. What if half of the bodies that lies there are just in some dormant state, waiting for the sound to wake up? And how many can be inside of the stores and houses? We could easily go from ten freaks to hundred freaks.“

Steve raised his hand to silence everyone. “We don’t really have much of a choice. We need to get past this street and then split up to cover more ground.“ “Or, Clint and Nat can take first backalley and distract some of them. There should be fire escape ladder to the roof and avoid fight and give us enough space to get to the other side. You could check the shop nearby, it has that small overpriced pharmacy inside.” Y/N pointed towards the small backalley. It’s entrance was half-ass barricaded with debris and junk, it would offer a good hindrance to undead and no problem to jump over for Clint and Natasha. “We could go towards residential area and scan some smaller shops for first-aid kits.” With a slight hesitation, Y/N looked at Steve, giving him a chance to voice his opinion. 

“Shouldn’t we check the big mall right in front of us too?” He asked, with slightest sarcasm in the voice. “Where do you think most of the people went when the panic started? And how many of them died inside?” Y/N raised her brow, “that place must be a graveyard and I’m not risking that something will bite my ankle.”

“That’s fair.” He nodded, all snark gone, “okay, we have a plan. We meet just outside the city in an hour. If we are not here, wait for twenty minutes and then go back to camp.” He noticed three mouths opening, ready to backtalk. “That’s an order! We are not losing any more people!” He snapped, something dark flashing behind his blue eyes, shutting everyone up effectively, younger Barton and Nat visibly irritated.

Things went relatively well. Other two crossed over the barricade quickly, just a few undead trying to follow but too slow to actually keep up. Quickly signing they’re okay from afar, it was time for Y/N and Rogers to go, blowing into a full sprint while trying to not make a noise and Y/N found out she was not really that fast as she thought as she tried to keep up with Steve, losing quite miserably.   They were lucky, they crossed path with freaks only once but with kinda terrifying speed, Steve got rid of them, his knife stabbing fast, his irritation clear when he snapped a neck of one of the approaching undead. There was not much to do for Y/N only to keep up, hissing warning when some staggering corpse got too close. When two finally stopped, rows of houses spread before them. Tugging Y/N aside, Steve jumped over the short fence, slowly stalking over to the first house, front garden surprisingly clean, no dead bodies in sight, what couldn’t be said about the neighbour’s garden, three bodies lying there, rotting in the hot sun. 

Inside of the house was not pristine clean anymore, blood spills and marks covering the walls, bloody footprints leading towards the back alerted Y/N and Steve into a fighting stance once more just as a thump and a moan from the kitchen sounded, painfully loud in almost soundless world. Sneaking towards the sound, another gruesome sight waited for them. As if the scene from Evil Dead franchise, a corpse half laid-half sat by the counter one hand cuffed to the lower cupboard, a meat cleaver covered in dried blood was next to it, forgotten when death claimed another victim, other hand half-sawn off, sickly green skin covered by festering bite marks. Almost every part of the lower body was gone as another undead monster crouched down munching on the dead meat, oblivious to two new possible victims. With pained expression, Y/N quickly grabbed feeding monster by the back of the shirt and yanked sideways, her military knife striking the skull quickly, killing the abomination. Sitting back on her heels, Y/N turned her head towards shocked Steve, inhaling, she opened her mouth but screeched instead when cold, wet hand clutched her shoulder.

Poorly balanced position Y/N was in caused her legs to buckle, her back slamming with a disgusting splotch into messy, bloody remains of now alive corpse’s lower stomach, twitching hand tangling in Y/N’s loose hair, using it to pull itself towards her, teeth clatting in desperate need to spread the infection. "Y/N!" Steve shouted and rushed to her side, young woman struggling from being bit, pushing both hands in creeper's face, panic clogging her throat from screaming. A strong muscular hand sneaked around her middle and yanked backwards, her back slamming into sturdy chest as Steve stabbed undead, it's hold releasing instantly. Backing a few steps back and falling down, Y/N landed in Steve's lap, panic and shock still overpowering her senses, making her squirm and try to get away.

"Shhh, it's okay. Y/N," Steve cooed, dropping his knife and put his hand at Y/N's forehead, turning her face to side and push it under his chin, "Y/N, look at me doll. You are alright. Listen to my heartbeat." His words slowly pushed through the haze in Y/N's mind as he felt her hold her breath, ear pushed in his chest and hand scrunching the shirt on his left arm. After agonizingly slow minute, Y/N looked up, her Y/E/C eyes boring in his blue ones. "You okay?" Steve asked, cupping her cheek in gentliest way possible. For a second, Steve thought he saw her eyes flicker to his lips but before he could react, Y/N pushed herself up. "Yeah," Y/N cringed at her raspy voice, "thank you. I didn't expect it to be still alive." She wobbled a little and ignored how Steve jumped up and reached for her, her eyes glued at his front. The front of his grey shirt was drenched in dark blood, now she realised her back was soaking wet and her hair felt dirty from being touched by undead's rotting skin. "We should find some new shirts for us and quickly search this place. We don't have much time." Nodding his head, Steve picked up both knives and carefully headed upstairs, tapping the handle on a few doors, waiting to hear a growl or other sign of 'life'. They were lucky, no other infected was inside and some spare clothes were thrown around the bedroom, as if previous residents tried to pack in hurry, unsure what to pack. "Did I do something?" Steve asked as he took off his shirt, his back turned to Y/N, who followed his lead and quickly discarded her ruined shirt, catching her out of guard with sudden question. 

"Sorry?" She asked turning around, catching a glimpse of muscular back disappearing under new black shirt that was a size too small. Distracted by the sight, she didn't notice when Steve turned around and stepped closer, his calloused hand under her chin snapped her back. Once again, the feeling of being trapped seized in as she noticed his blue eyes darkening, like a mouse looking in cobra’s eyes, hypnotized, tiny voice, voice of reason, telling her to step back or push him away, silenced by gray haze that seeped in her brain. Steve's face was stern and yet soft, dominant aura around him told her he will not accept lies or simple distraction, his blue eyes burrowing in her soul, baring her to him.

His voice was octave lower, sending shivers creeping up her back. "You keep your distance from me. You barely look me in the eyes. And I know you feel something too." He took a step closer and now he was impossibly close and brought his hand on Y/N's throat, his thumb caressing her pulse, from his fingertips, what felt like electric pulses quickened her heartbeat and blood rushed in her cheeks. "So," he bent down a little, their faces on the same level, "what is going through that head of yours, Barton?"

You couldn't do it, you couldn't lie anymore, not when deep in his eyes, you saw lust, need, but also something very fragile and soft. "I'm afraid." Y/N answered, her voice coming out as a soft whisper. "I'm afraid to lose any more people." Her whole body shuddered when Steve's eyes softened and his thumb stroked the soft skin of her cheek. "Creating a bond, caring about another person in this kind world, it's like waiting for something inevitably wrong to happen, to either me, or you or anybody else. I already worry about Clint and Nat and everybody back at the camp. I can't-" Y/N voice broke and she took a step back, wiping away unshed tears with the back of her hand. "This is not time and place to discuss this. We should move on."

Opening the door to the bathroom, Steve looks back at Y/N, his face set with determination. “When we get back, we will continue.” Not waiting for any response, his demeanor changed into one of a Captain and went inside, the creaking of cabinet doors was only thing Y/N heard. Taking a deep breath, Y/N fell on her knees beside the bed, lifting the covers to look beneath it. She couldn’t help the small victory smirk when she heard an irritated sigh from bathroom as she reached for bright red first aid-kit, put on the stack of books. YN smiled softly as she opened the kit, revealing brand new packages of band aids, bandages, some antiseptic wipes, hermetically sealed and among the basic painkillers, a pills of Tramadol, one of Bruce’s top choices. It was hard to believe they hit the mark at first try but Y/N knew better than to ponder about if’s and when’s.

“Got something.” She called and proudly shown her treasure to Steve, who carried more bandages, one bottle of Advil and Hydrogen Peroxide. “It’s a good start but we still have time to look for more. Let’s hope Nat and Clint had better luck.” Y/N stuck the kit in her backpack.

“We still have half an hour left. If we hurry, we can cover bigger part of the neighborhood.” Steve took Y/N’s bag unconsciously, slinging it over his shoulder, handing her his empty bag, making Y/N roll her eyes and blush slightly at the same time. Rolling because it made her feel underestimated again, latter for the ‘gentlemanliness’, the softness Y/N was not shown that often.

Luck was once again on their side as those few freaks that roamed the street didn’t notice them and some of the houses were almost untouched, clearly abandoned in haste as the first one. Leaving the last house, Y/N and Steve both carried some canned food, more bottled water, bandages and disinfectants. As much they were calmer now they had what they wanted, they still had to go back and Y/N’s mind was occupied with thought of Clint and Nat, worried about them, even thought they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. They were like a siblings to her, well, Clint literally and mere thought of losing either of them made her stomach churn painfully. 

“We have all we need. I’m sure Barton and Romanoff also found something useful.” Steve looked around, taking in the area around, assessing the best way to go back without drawing the attention to them. They were quite far from ‘rendezvous point’ and he worried about Y/N, woman beside him growing more and more nervous, checking her watch every two minutes, her muscles twitching the second they stopped moving. He didn’t want her here, out in the open in danger zone, not after what happened in the first house, the possessiveness he didn’t know he had in himself growing stronger each minute.

"Hey, they are okay. They will either wait for us the or back in the camp." Steve clasped his hand on Y/N's shoulder, trying his best to give her reassuring smile. Nodding her head, Y/N flashed a clearly fake smile and gripped the door handle, creaking the door slightly open, more than ready to make sure of Clint's safety with her own eyes. 

"Dammit!" Y/N hissed peeping outside, seeing the number of freaks multiplied a bit, some now staggering around the lawn and front porch and as if that wasn't enough, sun was slowly setting down, casting the street in deep shades of orange and red, adding to the horror atmosphere. "We can't fight through all of them, we will have to outrun them." She mumbled as she closed the door again, feeling Steve's broad chest almost flush against her back as he peeked through the small window next to her, his hot breath fanning over the nape of her neck.

"We are much faster than them, even jogging should do the trick. We can't tire ourselves in the long run right at the beginning." He whispered in her ear and Y/N couldn't help but shudder at the feeling. Ever since she confessed her worries, spilling her fears and vulnerabilities to Steve, Y/N reacted to his presence, always aware of his closeness, aware how much closer he was keeping to her, supporting hand on the small of her back, his eyes trailing her movements, watching her like a hawk, ready to lend a helping hand.  

‘Focus, Y/N. First, get back to camp alive,’ Y/N stopped her rampaging thoughts, ‘he wants to talk later, you can panic then.’ She shook her head slightly and strapped the bag on her back tightly also around her stomach and chest, leaving her hands free for defense. 

"Let's get this over with." Y/N clenched her jaw, readying herself for a long run, Steve nodding his head, raising three fingers in short countdown. "Three." Exhaling, Y/N gripped the door handle again, slowly pushing it down. "Two." Steve gave Y/N one last look with determined face. "One." Y/N really hated this new world.

***********

"You are back!" Tony exclaimed, hastily getting up, barreling towards his friend, almost sending Bruce flying, who sat next to Pepper, who looked more was passed out than conscious, only her blinking eyes showing her struggle. Abruptly stopping, Tony looked at the coming group, raising his eyebrow: “Do I want to know what happened?”

Run back was not fun by any means, especially for Y/N. Just as Steve predicted, outrunning the staggering monsters was easy but the anxiety Y/N was feeling worsened with each step, reaching it’s peak when two arrived at the meeting point and Clint and Nat was nowhere to be seen, making Y/N sprint forward, only to yelp in surprise as Clint Natasha jumped from behind the big tree, knife in hand, her foot quickly stretching forward. Shock and fright causing Y/N’s reaction to slow, her own foot tripping over Nat’s, sending her down on the dirt, face-planting in small puddle, maybe only one in the whole forest which was rustling with dryness. 

All sounds of life around them seemed to cease as Y/N slowly get up on her four limps, mud and water covering her whole face. Dripping down her neck and staining the new shirt, Y/N turned her head around, her eyes almost dead when they landed on shocked faces of her three companions, who just stood there almost motionless, only Clint’s shoulders showing a slight shaking which turned into full-blown snorting when his sister opened her mouth, pieces of mud and clamps of grass rolling out. 

At this point, Y/N felt dead inside as she stood in the middle of the dark camp with dried up mud on her face, counting how many times she made a fool out of herself ever since she met the blue-eyed captain. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Bucky and Sam almost crying from laughter, discreetly sending them middle finger which even worsened the situation. 

"I'm going to wash myself." Y/N muttered, turning to grinning Wanda, who handed her her spare shirt. BY the time they got back, sun has set and the forest around them was dark and mysterious but the need to clean up was stronger. Looking over her shoulder, Steve was crouching next to Tony, Bruce and Pepper, taking out found medicine, Clint and Nat handing out the bottles of water they found. "I'll holler if something happens." "Holler if you need help washing your back." Sam whistled after her and laughed at Y/N's face, both completely oblivious to Steve's clenched jaw and hard eyes, drilling a hole in his friends head. 

Pond was not even two minutes walk away, area around secured with strings with attached pieces of cans, softly clanging in the breeze. Being this dirty, even slightly murky water felt divine, it's coldness refreshing Y/N's mind but reminding her just how tired and tense her body is, after all the running and her close encounter with death. Y/N shuddered remembering and abandoned washing the shirt, straight diving into the pond, scrubbing roughly at her skin, groaning at the memory of unnaturally cold and soft hand gripping the nape of her neck. A snap of a twig brought Y/N's mind back to reality as she turned and crouched down until the surface of the water reached just under her clavicles. "Wanda?" Y/N called out, squinting in the darkness that surrounded her. 

"Sorry, it's me. I came to check on you, you are gone for a long time." Steve stepped from behind the tree, his eyes trained up on the outline of the moon. "I heard a splash then you groaned, I got worried." 

"No, I just remembered that first house." Y/N trudged slowly towards him, still keeping everything hidden even if he were to look. Silence stretched between and despite the warm breeze, cool water started to seep in Y/N's bones, feeling goosebumps erupt all over her body, shaking like a leaf. " Can you turn around or go back behind the tree? I kinda wanna, you know...." Y/N's clanking teeth didn't escape Steve's attention as he quickly turned and mutter a quiet apology. Splashing behind him was tempting him to take a peek, the image of Y/N in the water reminded him of the stories his Ma told him when he was little, of women born in the water, nymphs, beautiful creatures that bathed in the light of the moon, taking their beauty and power from it's soft glow. That is how Y/N looked there, her wet hair plastered to her face, pale shine on her skin making her look out of this world. 

Clenching his jaw, Steve shift his feet, discreetly trying to ease the slightly tightening pants, the sound of the fabric brushing against the skin painfully loud in the forest stillness. Focusing on his breath, Steve failed to notice Y/N trudging towards him, wet washed clothes hanging on her hand. "You look horrible. I think you need a good sleep without being on a watch tonight." Y/N stood beside him, her big eyes, glossy from exhaustion trained on him.

"Yeah," Steve cough, looking down on slightly smaller woman, "we both need that. It was a long day."

"Mmmhm, but I'm glad we found what we needed. We did good." Y/N smiled at the image she saw before exiting the camp: Pepper swallowing the pills with some newfound strength, Tony kissing her temple, holding the bottle to her lips as Bruce nearby started sorting out all the pills and medicines. Raising her eyes to Steve's, Y/N gave him the brightest smile, tired lines on her face and dark circles beneath her eyes seemingly disappearing: "We will make it. We will survive this together. Everything-"

She doesn't get to tell him everything will be okay as she got spun around and lifted in the air, her back suddenly pressed against the bark of a tree, Steve's lips pressed tightly in hers, making her moan in surprise. Guttural sound allowed Steve to lick her lower lip and slip inside, gently proding at her tongue. His hand were on her thighs and one muscular thigh between her legs, keeping her boisted up. With a wet squelch, Y/N's clothes fell on the dusty ground as she wrapped her arm around his neck, other one cupping his bearded cheek, feeling of cold water forgotten as now her skin was flaming hot with each swirl of Steve's tongue, making her shudder stronger and stronger, whimper leaving her lips as Steve pressed his body tighter to hers, trapping her between him and the tree as his hand left her hips and grabbed her own hands, raising them above her head, locking them in his one big palm.

"Steve-" Y/N gasped in Steve's mouth, gulping at the air as his lips traveled south, peppering her chin and throat with kisses and gentle bites, his hand squeezing her side, his thumb caressing the skin on her hip bone, sending molten lava in her Y/N's stomach.

"Steve." This time Y/N's voice was stronger as she wiggled her hips in attempt to snap him out of his mission to explore her body, but the movement only made her aware of the situation in his pants, blood rushed to Y/N's face furiously. "Steve,stop." She whispered in Steve's ears, her voice purposely low and hoarse. 

That did the trick as he froze, slowly looking up, his eyes rid of almost all the blue, pupils blown in big black orbs with all the emotions seeping through. "We wanted to talk, Rogers. Calm down, I'm not going anywhere." Y/N breathed in his ear, feeling the shiver run through his body, power she had over this man made Y/N bite her lip. " We have all the time now to talk. I'm not going to run anymore." She slipped her hand out of his grip and cupped his cheek again, her thumb on his lower lip. "Let me down." Almost immediately, Steve lowered her down, sliding along with her as Y/N's legs gave out, her back still pressed into the bark of the tree but still basically sitting in Steve's lap.

"Sorry." He murmured, his warm breath fanning Y/N's face. "I just can't- the pull I feel towards you. I'm sorry for rushing this." His eyes, still clouded and yet so sincere made Y/N lean over and press a kiss in the corner of his mouth. "Shh, it's okay. I didn't make it exactly easy for you, did I?" Y/N laughed out quietly. "We Bartons are horrible at these feelings things." She nuzzled her nose to his. 

"I can leave right now if I make you uncomfortable." Steve tried to get up, only to be dragged back down by Y/N who looked in panic. 

"No! I'm sorry, it just- just give me a minute to collect my thoughts." She said, vulnerability taking over her features, making Steve kiss her forehead and then both eyelids.

"What you said back in the house, about losing people you care about-I understand that." Steve squeezed Y/N's side. "I too, don't want to feel it again but feeling nothing and then blame myself later, I don't want that too. That pain, those feelings makes us alive, they are what differentiate us from them. I like you. I know it's early but I do."

Y/N lips trembled and tears pooled in her eyes. "You can't promise me you will be alright. We don't know what will be in three days. I already care too much, I'm afraid. I don't want to lose you." Y/N pressed herself against Steve's chest, her words proof just how much she really cares. "I like you too."

Kissing the top of Y/N's head, he muttered to himself, "To live is to suffer," and smiled as he felt Y/N's hand sneak around his middle, finishing the thought: "To survive is to find some meaning to the suffering."

It would be a lie to say Y/N wasn't afraid, or nervous, tense. In her life, seven new people appeared who took place in her heart, which, with Clint and Nat already there, felt too full at the time. Love in the world of death is risky and painful, leaving you both vulnerable and strong, protective and forgiving.   But love is worth of all the pain and you just have to find the right people to accept it.

The End