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angelicyoongie · 1 month

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The Ivory Fang (I)

— pairing: mermaid taehyung x (f) reader — word count: 6k — warnings: (soft?) yandere, mention of illness (not the reader) — summary: You have run out of options when it comes to treating your mother's illness. When a mysterious man offers you a solution that might save her, you decide that nothing is too strange if it means it'll lead to a cure – not even finding and striking a deal with a mermaid.

Part 01 - 02

"My apologies, miss, but there's nothing I can do to aid your mother. Her malady is too severe."

The healer gives you a sympathetic look before he closes his door, the bell hanging above it chiming into the quiet night. You let out a shaky exhale, staring at the door that just sealed your mother's fate.

You have exhausted every possible option of looking for a cure, pleaded with every healer you've come across to please just try, but none have been willing. They always take one look at your mother, pale and gaunt in her bed, practically rotting away as she lays there, before they scurry away, refusing to treat her.

They may see a lost cause, a patient too sick to be cured, but you just see your mother – the woman who raised you by herself and taught you that even if all else fails, she would always be there to catch you.

The gold coins in your satchel clink together as you pull yourself away from the healer's door, your steps heavy as you begin the walk back to your house.

"What a fool," You grit, kicking at a stone in front of you, "If you had any common sense you should at least pretend like you had a cure and bled me dry."

Your throat bobs as you glance up at the night sky. The stars twinkle on without a worry, indifferent that their biggest admirer hasn't laid her eyes on them in months. You never quite saw the beauty in them like your mother did – like she still does – but they are practical for lighting your way home. It's the least they can do, as the tearful wishes you've bestowed upon their fallen brothers and sisters have all gone unheard since your mother fell ill.

It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that you still have no idea what caused it. One day your mother was fine and the next she was unable to get out of bed, falling in and out of consciousness. It's been months of you doing everything you can to help her, but nothing has even given her a moment of respite from the illness that's ravaging her body. You're truly at your wit's end.

You press your hands to your eyes as they begin to blur, willing them not to fall. On the off chance that your mother is lucid when you return, you don't want to cause her the worry of seeing your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you attempt to calm yourself, rubbing at your eyelids until the urge to cry subsides.

As you let your hands fall away, you find yourself squinting as you re-open your eyes, hazy lights filling your vision. Your steps slow as you draw near the source, a lit-up storefront beckoning you in with its warm, flickering lights.

"This isn't.." You look over your shoulder, seeing the faint outline of the healer's door further up the road. You walk along this path every day and yet, you have never seen this store before. You can't quite seem to recall what used to be there but you know it wasn't this.

Trepidation slowly sinks in as you keep walking forward, intent to let your feet carry you past the shop without a backward glance. Even so, a moment of morbid curiosity makes you pause, your eyes drinking in the soft glow of the seemingly floating lights in the window. Turning your head this way and that, you can't see the string holding them up, the thread much too thin to be visible in such low light. The windows are covered with rich fabrics, not allowing you to look inside past the heavy drapes. Your initial thought about this being a magician's shop falls short as you notice the etching into the glass, the lettering spelling out 'The Healing Shoppe'.

The name gives you a foolish burst of hope, your body already halfway up the stairs before you remember just how odd this whole thing is. A mysterious shop has appeared out of thin air and you're going to trust it just like that? Every rational part of your brain is urging you to leave, to forget that you ever laid eyes on this shop. But.. You can't simply ignore it on the odd chance that something inside might help your mother.

Taking a deep breath, you cross the last steps and find yourself in front of the door. As you press down on the handle, it gives away with a soft rattle. The sound is peculiar, certainly like no bell you've ever heard before; but with no visual clues of what it might be, you find that you can't quite place it. You take a hesitant step into the shop, the dimly lit space in front of you more like a hallway than a proper room. The walls are empty aside from a few lit candles, only a heavy drape obscuring what you assume to be a doorway further down the corridor.

"Hello?" You call out.

You pause, straining your ears for a reply, but nothing comes. Just as you're about to leave, worried that someone simply forgot to close up their shop, you hear a heavy thud from behind the curtain.

There's no noise aside from the impact, no immediate call for help, but there's still a possibility that someone may be hurt. Perhaps they fainted or are too weak to call out to you. You decide then that you're just going to take a look behind the drape, just to make sure everything is alright so that you can leave in good conscience.

You walk past the flickering candlelight, stomach swirling with unease as you reach out for the curtain. The material is soft in your hand, threads of shimmering silver woven so delicately into it that you can't even feel it as you run your thumb across it. The fabric is heavy as you finally push it aside, your eyes widening in surprise as you take in what it was hiding.

The room you step into is filled to the brim with shelves and cabinets, all of them displaying a different collection of oddities. There's dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling, the many bunches of lavender spreading a calming scent throughout the space. There's a round table placed in the middle of the room, two chairs pushed up against it. The tablecloth is made out of the same material as the drape and your fingers are already itching to touch it again.

Glancing around, you find that the shelf next to you is stacked to the brim with gemstones of every cut and color imaginable, their polished surface reflecting the sparkling jars from across the room. If your mother was here, she would insist that they were filled with stardust, the shimmering substance so bright it's nearly imitating the night sky you looked up at just moments before.

You walk slowly around the room, captivated by all of the different items you find. A shudder runs through you as you pause near a display filled with skulls, some of the shapes so outlandish you wonder if the owner has somehow mended different species together just for show.

As you finally make a full circle back to the doorway you stepped through, you realize that there's nothing in this room that should have made the thud you heard earlier. There's no one here and nothing even seems slightly out of place.

Stumped, you lean forward on the table, running your fingers over the soft texture of the cloth as you give the room another look. Is there a door you missed somewhere? Perhaps you were too captivated by the content to really pay attention to the room.

"And who might you be?"

You spin around, heart in your throat, from the sudden deep voice speaking up behind you.

You stumble over an apology as you take in the cloaked figure in front of you, their face obscured by the big hood pulled over their head. The uneasy feeling in your stomach returns tenfold as you realize you're trapped between the table and this mysterious person, their broad frame blocking the only way in and out of the room.

"I–" You're saved from your poor explanation as the figure pulls their hood off, revealing the most beautiful man you've ever seen in your life. His light brown hair is tousled and wavy like he just came from a swim in the ocean, his skin sun-kissed as if he's spent his days laying by the shore. You find yourself unable to form words as you take in his chiseled jaw and almond-shaped eyes, the colour such a striking light blue, they almost appear white.

It's a little unsettling how piercing his gaze is, almost as if he's looking right into you rather than at you. Just as your eyes flicker to the curtain behind him, an excuse forming in your head for a swift exit, the man says, "What brings you to my shop?"

Flashes of your mother's gaunt face appear before your eyes, the sound of her breathing becoming heavier and heavier echoing in your ears. Even if you feel uneasy in this man's presence, you can't let this chance slip to your fingers. You owe your mother that much.

"I noticed the sign out front, that you have a healing shop? My mother.." You take a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "My mother is very ill. No doctor or healer is willing to help her, they say her sickness is too severe. You.. You're my last hope."

"Hmm, I see," The man nods. He gestures to one of the chairs, "Please have a seat and explain your troubles. I need all the details you can give regarding your mother's malady."

You quickly slip into the nearest chair, your palms clammy with nervous anticipation. This is the first person who has ever bothered to ask, who actually seems to care. You watch the man as he rounds the table, his gait awkward and staggered as he walks with difficulty to his chair. The way he moves is nothing like you've seen before. It's certainly no ordinary limp, you've never seen anyone walk so .. unnaturally before.

The man catches your eye as he lowers himself to his seat.

"I know my condition is quite unsightly, please excuse me. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I have had to train my legs to bear my weight. It has left me feeling like a fish out of water."

He flashes you a crooked smile, the amused twinkle in his eye alerting you of a joke you don't quite understand. You wonder if his condition is similar to your old neighbor's. The man had a painful sickness in his legs and spent most of his time in a wheeled chair, but he could walk on them if it was necessary. Though the few times you did see him walk, it still looked, well, human.

"Oh no, that's alright," You wave your hands, embarrassed that your staring might have made him feel self-conscious.

Desperate to turn the conversation away from the man's illness, you begin recounting everything you can remember about your mother's sickness. You tell him about how it began so suddenly, the severity of it and how no one else is willing to aid her, all noting her as a lost cause.

"Most curious," The man hums.

He leans back in his seat, his piercing gaze moving slowly across your face, scrutinizing it. He mutters something under his breath, too low for you to hear, before he raises his voice and says, "While I may not know what your mother's sickness is, I do know that there is only one thing that can cure her. A mermaid's magic."

"Pardon me?" You stare incredulously at the man. "Did you just say mermaid? As in the creatures from folktales?"

"I do know it sounds outlandish, or perhaps you'd find insane to be a more fitting word, but it's your last chance at curing your mother. Have you not exhausted all man-made options?"

You slump in your seat, biting down on your lip as you mull his words over. You have indeed done all you could to save your mother and to no avail. While it does sound absolutely mad to go searching for a mythological creature to aid her, perhaps crazy is just what you need. You're not sure just how much you trust this strange man but for all you know, he could be speaking the truth. He certainly looks like he believes in it himself.

"Where.. Where would I find one?"

The man tuts. "That's not the question you should be asking, guppy. A mermaid requires a sacrifice of equal value to what you are asking of them. What are you willing to give to receive their help?"

"Anything," You reply, "The cost doesn't matter. I'd give up anything to save my mother."

The man grins, his smile a little sharper than before, as he pulls out a weathered map from his cloak. He traces the route you need to take, crossing over the vast ocean to reach a cluster of islands on the other side.

"Finally, you will need to take a boat from Pearl Bay to this island right here. Once you locate the mermaid, you have to offer him this," The man places a tooth on the table, the whites of it glistening under the candlelight.

You hesitantly reach across the table to pick it up, the size and weight of it much more substantial than you were expecting. You find that the tooth is much more like a fang, one end pointed and sharp. It's nothing like you've seen before.

"What animal does this belong to?" You ask, tracing what looks like a red vein embedded in the side of it.

You look up as you're only met with silence, the man's heavy gaze transfixed on your hand and the fang held in your palm. He only seems to remember his surroundings as you lower it to your lap, removing it from his sight.

The man clears his throat as he pulls the hood back over his head. Ignoring your question, he nudges the map closer to you on the table, "I have given you everything you need. It is up to you to decide whether your mother lives – or dies. Good luck."

Your mind is made up a few days later when your mother starts coughing up blood. You doubt she has more than a few weeks left to live at the rate her sickness is eating her up, so you'll have to act right away if you want to save her. You still have your doubt about the journey, about the creature you're supposed to find, but the risk is worth it if the alternative is being left to always wonder if it could have cured her. You know you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if the mysterious man was correct and you didn't do anything about it.

"I'll find a cure, I promise," You give your mother a gentle kiss on her forehead. The lines on her hollowed face are scrunched with pain, her every breath a mere wheeze as her chest struggles to rise and fall.

You meet the saddened eyes of your neighbor as you press a few gold coins into her hand, whispering a few words of gratitude for her care while you're away. The journey shouldn't take more than ten nights to complete but you have paid her far more than that, just on the off chance that the weather delays your return. With your goodbyes said, you heft your rucksack onto your shoulder as you slip out of the cottage and set course for the port.

The sun has barely risen as you locate the ship that will take you south, the wooden dock filled with travelers and crew all headed in different directions. You're surprised to find that the ship is quite large, the deck just as bustling as the dock below. With all of the boxes and barrels being loaded up, you figure it's likely a cargo ship, moving wares and supplies out to the islands. While the journey is bound to be loud and quite cramped, you think the noise might actually do you some good. You hadn't realized just how much of your own energy had been sapped alongside your mother's, how much you missed the sound of laughter and life being lived around you. You'll be stuck on this ship until it reaches Pearl Bay, unable to do much other than sleep and converse with the people around you, so perhaps this will be a much needed break – a chance for you to wind down until you reach shore. Gods know you'll need it, especially since you're supposed to hunt down a fabled creature once your feet hit solid ground.

You fight to open your eyes as the sound of the howling winds outside sweep through the room, your stomach turning at the thought of having to move to see what caused it. The trap door slams shut before you muster up the courage to turn over, the sounds once again dampened by the heavy wood.

"Ay girlie, who made you this angry?!" A crewman huffs as he stumbles down the stairs to the lower deck, bracing his hands on the walls for support.

You bite your teeth together as another thunderous wave crashes against the side of the ship. The next round of nausea washes over you as the ship rocks back and forth, the wood groaning as it tries to steady itself. It's been three days of hellish waters, the storm breaking out as soon as the ship hit the open sea. You've spent most of it confined to your cot, barely being able to keep any water or food down before another rough wave causes your stomach to empty.

The lower deck is filled with pained moans and whimpers, the majority of the passengers fairing just as poorly as you. It feels like you're stuck in a loop of absolute misery with the heavy rain that pours down on the deck above and the angry sea that threatens to pull the ship under at any moment.

You let out a slow breath through your nose, trying to think about anything else but the bile slowly rising up your throat. So much for that relaxation. Desperate for some respite from your turning stomach, you close your eyes and turn your focus onto the indistinct chatter happening on the other side of the room. The low, murmuring voices prove to be enough of a distraction that you soon find your consciousness slipping, a welcome darkness taking over you as the storm continues to rage outside.

The next time you wake up, the ship is quiet and still, like the previous days were nothing more than a fever dream. It takes you longer than you'd like to make your way up on deck, your legs trembling and weak after barely any substance over the past three days. The fresh air and warm sunlight feels heavenly on your skin as you stumble past the other travelers sprawled out on the deck, a few of them still moaning about the ship moving too much, despite its now still glide on the quiet water. The ship's railing seems like a good spot to rest, the sturdy wood providing a nice support to lean against as you survey the sea around you. The water is crystal blue, glittering under the bright sun. You've never seen anything quite like it. You let out a gasp as a school of fish pass by the ship, their gray hue reflecting the light so beautifully it looks like molten silver dancing around under the water's surface.

You stand by the ship's edge for a while, long enough for the other passengers to begin retreating back to their cots. Just as you're about to do the same, you see what looks like a white, large fin hitting the surface of the sea, the creature below too obscured by the distance from the ship to really make out. Even so, you can tell it's no regular fish. The small waves caused by the impact must surely mean that it's a strong animal.

"Did you see that?" You turn to the man resting next to you, hoping he might have an explanation of what you just saw.

The man startles as you address him, clearly on the brink of falling asleep where he stands. He blinks, rubbing his eyes as he turns his attention to the spot you're pointing to.

"There's nothing there, miss," He grumbles, openly annoyed that you woke him up.

"What? But–" As you turn back to look at the sea, you realize he's right. The creature you saw is no longer there.

"Was likely just a dolphin, miss. There's lots of them in these waters."

"I suppose so," You concede. Having never seen one in real life, only on paper, you have no clue how large they're supposed to be. Yet, something in your gut tells you that this was no dolphin – this was something entirely different.

You're not left to ponder the creature for long, not when you're alerted that Pearl Bay has been spotted in the distance. Your final night at the ship passes by in the blink of an eye, time seemingly fueled by your nerves as you suddenly find yourself stepping onto solid ground once again. With a decent night's rest behind you and a warm meal in your stomach, you set course for the next point on your map.

Following the mysterious man's instructions, you find the path going along the outskirts of the bay, walking until you stumble upon the described hut nestled close to the water's edge. The woman inside seems eager to rent you a rowboat, citing that she doesn't get much business on the far side of the island.

It isn't until she asks you where you're going that her demeanor changes, her expression turning haunted as she glances in the direction of your destination, just barely visible where the sky meets the sea.

"There is something wicked in those waters," The woman shudders, her hands shaking as she accepts a gold coin for payment, "You'd better stay away if you value your life, miss."

Your stubbornness won't allow you to turn back now, not when you've already come so far, but that doesn't mean you're not affected by her warning. Her spooked expression lingers in the back of your mind as you push the boat out to sea, your own hands trembling with uncertainty as you grab the oars and begin to row.

Perhaps you are truly foolish to ignore all of the warning signs you have been presented with, but what is a little danger if it means it can heal your mother? You'll just have to stay vigilant, making sure not to take any risks and be alert to your surroundings.

With your rucksack tucked between your legs, you hum a gentle tune, trying to calm the anxiety building with every stroke forward.

The eerie feeling grows heavier the more distance you put between yourself and Pearl Bay, the island in the distance seemingly never drawing closer no matter how long and how hard you row. You set out before the sun had reached its highest point and now its rays are almost touching the sea, the sky a pure orange. Truly, it feels like you have just been paddling in place this whole time, not moving an inch despite the bay becoming fainter and fainter behind you.

Your arms are burning from the hours of exercise, your breath labored and heavy with exhaustion. You were hoping to make it to shore before nightfall – the map did not indicate that the journey would be this long – but you fear your body might shut down if you try to push it for much longer.

You pull the oars into the boat, intending to just take a short break and rest your eyes before your final stretch of the evening.

You swear you haven't dozed off for more than a quarter of an hour, the sunset still vivid and bright, but as you reopen your eyes, you're shocked to find the island close, its proximity now near enough that you can make out the palm trees on the shore and faint details of the wild mountain imposing behind them.

"How?" You breathe.

As you shift on the bench, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you notice that your feet feel much colder than before your nap. Wet.

Glancing down, you find the bottom of the boat filled with water, the amount already well above your ankles. You fumble for the oars, cursing as you begin to row with all of your might. You can't tell where the leak is coming from and scooping the water out with your hands won't get you anywhere. Your best bet is just to get the boat as close to land as possible and then swim the rest of the way.

You resolutely do not think about what may be lurking in the water as you finally abandon the sinking boat, your rucksack balanced precariously on your head as you lower yourself into the cold water. You wonder for a split second if it's better to leave it but the extra portions of food you brought with you will surely come in handy now that your way of returning to Pearl Bay is at the bottom of the ocean.

Biting your teeth together, you begin to swim, your gaze locked onto the beach. Time feels endlessly long as you push yourself forward, the minutes ticking by so slowly they might as well have been hours.

You let out a sob of relief as your feet finally touch solid ground, every limb shaking with exhaustion as you waddle the rest of the way up to dry land. You collapse the moment you hear sand crunching under your soaked boots, panting, as your vision swirls from fatigue.

You lie there until the chill begins to set in, your dripping clothes sticking to your skin like an icy embrace. Groaning, you push yourself up on your feet, knowing you'll have to attempt to create a fire if you want any warmth to return to your body.

The sky is beginning to grow dark, its orange hues replaced by deep purple and blue. It's only now that you realize just how unnaturally quiet the island is, with no noise to be heard aside from the water lapping at the shore and a gentle breeze flowing through the palm trees. Even if you hadn't been this exhausted and cold, you would never dare to venture further into the thick vegetation in the dark. You don't trust the island to not lead you astray.

"Suppose I'll stay here for the night," You murmur.

You rummage through your rucksack, pulling out the change of clothes you had brought with you just in case. You're ever thankful for your own foresight as you strip out of your soaked garments, goosebumps racing down your skin as you hurry to pull on a dry blouse and trousers. It isn't just the cold that's making your skin crawl – you can't help feeling like somewhere in the darkness of the deep ocean, or in the shadows in the midst of the trees, someone is watching you.

You glance around as you do your blouse up, finding absolutely nothing staring back at you.

Yet, the feeling lingers.

It takes you longer than you'd like to admit getting a fire started, the branches you find a little too damp to really catch a spark. Still, some deity seems to take pity on you and allows one of your attempts to succeed, the branch igniting and spreading the flames to the rest of your small bonfire. You scarf down half of the food and water you brought with you as you soak up the warmth, deciding that despite your still vocal stomach, it's better to save the rest for tomorrow. You have no idea how large this island actually is, so there's no question that you'll have to keep your energy up.

With your stomach slightly sated and your shivering down to a minimum, you curl up on the beach, as close to the open flames as you dare. You use your rucksack as a makeshift pillow, piling up the rest of your supplies close by. Despite the unnerving, oppressive air that hangs over the island, you succumb to sleep quickly, your exhaustion too great to fight.

Your dreams are restless, haunted by sharp teeth and whispers, a deep baritone voice urging you to come find him. You wake with a start, alarmed that the puff of air you sensed across your ear in your nightmare felt a little too real.

Heart racing in your chest, you quickly survey the beach, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Your bonfire has long since extinguished itself, its ashes intertwined with the sand below.

Reaching out behind you, you frown as you don't feel the pouch of water you know you left there the night before.

Turning around, you're met with absolutely nothing. Your food and water are gone, and the clothes you left out to dry are nowhere to be seen.

You would suspect an animal to be behind it but you really don't think there's any here. It's too quiet. Not even an insect has passed you by since you stepped foot on this island.

Perhaps the sensation you felt wasn't just a dream, maybe there's someone – something – here.

"You're fine, you're fine," You whisper, digging your hands into the sand to ground yourself. You don't have time to panic. If all of your supplies are gone, it just means you have even less time to locate the creature you came here for. You have to move. Now.

You push yourself up to your feet, dusting sand off your clothes. Your boots are long gone too but you doubt they would have been of much use anyway with the way they were gurgling the night before.

Taking a deep breath, you begin walking towards the thick vegetation a little further up the beach, where the sand meets lush, long grass. The jungle you step into is so dense that the sunlight barely manages to peek through the trees, only small dapples of sunlight flickering across the ground as the leaves move with the wind. The map provided to you didn't show where you would find the mermaid once you reached the island, so you're left to wander aimlessly, pushing aside shrubs and climbing over fallen trees.

Even if you have no idea which way you should be headed, it's almost as if your body knows, your feet carrying you in what you can only hope is the right direction. Your path becomes clear as you break through the trees and find yourself at the edge of the mountain, near the shore. Your journey must have led you to the other side of the island, and the massive cave that's carved out of the mountain is too imposing to be anything but your destination. From the folktales you have heard, it seems like the perfect place to find a mermaid.

The cave mouth is facing out into the ocean, its size big enough to fit a ship through it. You say a small prayer to whatever deity is willing to listen as you square your shoulders and walk in, your barren footsteps echoing into the quiet mountain. You keep close to the wall as you follow the rocky ledge that trails along it, mindful of the stream that runs parallel to your path. The water here is darker, not as willing to divulge what may be lurking beneath its surface. It seems this cave has a paved a road for those with feet and fins.

You follow the ledge as it veers to to left and it soon becomes apparent to you that you have stepped into a tunnel, something much smaller and damper compared to the cave entrance. You can almost graze your fingertips against the mountain above you now.

It doesn't take long before the tunnel opens up before you, showing you sunlight streaming in through holes in the mountain. This cavern is large and wide, showing off a pool of water in the middle of it. You freeze near the edge of the tunnel, still shrouded in its shadows, as you finally lay eyes on the creature you have been searching for – the mermaid.

It's lounging in the water, its back turned towards you as it uses its arms to rest on the pool's edge. You find yourself mesmerized by its tail, the massive thing almost as long as a full-grown adult. It's white in colour but the scales appear to have a pearlescent luster to them, shimmers of pink and green reflecting in the water.

The mermaid's body resembles a man, showing off a chiseled back and strong muscles as he moves his arms. The mermaid's tousled, light brown hair looks oddly familiar from the back, but you know no men who sport that kind of style. There's no place for vanity in your town.

"Hello?" You call out as you step into the cavern.

You hold your breath as the mermaid flips its body around at the sound of your voice, its strong tail splashing in the water. Dumbfounded, you watch as the mermaid pushes his hair back, revealing a face you already know.

It's the mysterious man from the healing shoppe, the same one that told you to come find the mermaid – to come find him.

The man grins as he drinks in your shock, his teeth much sharper than you remember them.

"Ah, pretty human, it seems that you decided to save your mother's life after all."

"You.." You struggle to make sense of what you're seeing, none of it adding up. "Who are you?"

"Me? Oh, pardon my manners. You may call me Taehyung, human. I believe you have a request for me?"

A sudden gust of wind comes through the cave as the mermaid utters his name, a loud rattling echoing between the walls of the cavern. You remember hearing that same sound before, the night you stepped into his shop. The moment you glance up to find the source, you find yourself immediately regretting it.

The darkest spots of the cave's ceiling are filled with clumps of hanging bones, all made up of various animals. They rattle as the wind makes them sway, causing them to knock into each other over and over. You swallow thickly as you spot a skull that is very distinctly human, its warning not lost on you.

You scramble a step back as you look back to the water and find Taehyung much closer than before. He's resting casually on the pool's edge, his chin in his hand as he observes you from only a few feet away. His icy gaze is locked on to you and there's a glint in his eye that makes you all too aware that you have nowhere to run. Even if you make it out of the cave, you will still be trapped on the island. The water is Taehyung's domain and you're surrounded by it.

Foolishly naive and desperate as you are, you have let a predator lead you right into his grasp.

a/n: want to read chapter two right away? you can! just click here and it'll bring you straight to early access 💖

welcome to the third installment in the crimson shell universe (all of the stories are stand alones though, so you'll be fine even if you haven't read the others)!! i know we didn't see too much of tae in this chapter but i can promise you he'll make plenty of apperances in the next one 👀 this is a yandere mermaid story, but this fic will be... softer (?) in comparison to the others! i'd love to know what you think so far!! 💖

the next(/final) chapter will be posted in three weeks time! if you don't want to wait and would like to support me, you can read it now through early access on my kofi! the link is above. thank you!! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #yandere mermaid #mermaid bts #mermaid taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #mermaid au #yandere x reader

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my-castles-crumbling · 10 months

Text

blanket - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 274 - (I know I did this one already but I got another idea lol)

Sirius lay in the bed, wrapped haphazardly in a blanket, looking closer to death than Remus had ever seen him.

Remus swallowed, choking back the bile that rose to his throat, trying not to succumb to his need to lash out as he remembered James's voice echoing through his house from his fire not sixty minutes ago.

"Remus! Sirius is in trouble. Come quickly."

He had never run faster.

And now he was here, at the Potters', anger flowing through him as he half-listened to James and Euphemia explain.

"Sirius....his parents....tortured...ran away....almost died...."

He usually worked hard to fight against his more-primal urges. To show that the stereotypes assigned to werewolves were false.

But right now, he could kill.

Before he moved, though, Sirius stirred.

"Sirius! Sirius, it's okay!" James murmured, getting to Sirius's head first, reassuring the injured boy softly.

Sirius let out a whimper.

"I know it hurts, darling," Euphemia murmured. "We've given you some potions. You're healing. Can we get you anything?"

A grumble. Unintelligible words. Then...

"Moony..... I want my Moony."

It was such a soft request, Remus almost didn't believe it. Until James turned to Remus, fighting back a ghost of a smirk, and whispered, "He's right here, Pads. He's here for you."

And, ignoring the hint of teasing on James's still-worried face, Remus stepped forward, gently taking Sirius's hand and looking into his swollen eyes. "Sirius?" he asked softly.

"Moons?" Sirius groaned, hardly able to open his eyelids to see the taller boy. "Stay with me? Please?"

"Of course, baby," Remus responded without thinking, choking back tears.

There was no way he would leave.

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littlest-w01f · 16 days

Text

Cures

Eris Vanserra x Celeste (Lucien x Oc's mini-series coming soon)

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 3: Healing

Summary: After Eris was beaten bloody by his father, left abandoned in a shed, a witch finds him, she is more than willing to aid him

Cw: Wounds, blood

The sun had set hours ago, Eris was strung up in an abandoned shed miles outside any civilisation, crying was no use, and screaming for help wasn't one either, the cuts on his chest had slowly started to heal, the whip marks were cauterised, causing nothing but pain.

Eris hung limply from the chains, his head drooping forward as he struggled to remain conscious through the agony that wracked his body. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the musty odor of the decaying shed. Each labored breath sent fresh waves of pain radiating from his wounds.

Outside, the night pressed in, silent and uncaring. No saviour would come. He was utterly alone with his tormentor. A faint rustling came from the shadows at the back of the shed, his father returning. Eris tensed, dreading what new torments awaited him.

Heavy footsteps approached, hurried. "Oh, Mother," A soft voice, not his father. "What happened to you? Poor thing..." The voice tutted as gentle hands got him out of the chains.

When the female came into view, Eris' breathing got caught in his throat, her eyes were like pink diamonds, having little feline slits in them, hair to match, and her face was round, soft and innocent, contrasting her sharp eyes, concern etched over her features.

The young female, barely older than Eris himself, looked upon him with a mixture of shock, pity, and a hint of fear. Her large, gemstone-like eyes took in every detail of his battered form - the dried blood caked around gashes on his torso, the swollen bruises discolouring his skin, the vacant stare in his eyes. She let out a small gasp, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.

"Oh gods, what heartless creature did this to you?" She whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She glanced towards the door, she made up her mind, gently scooping him up into her arms as if he were a fragile doll.

Her touch, though gentle, sent jolts of agony coursing through his abused body. Yet there was something comforting about her warmth, her concern, it was a stark contrast to the cold brutality of his father.

"Who… who are you?" Eris managed to croak out, his voice raw from screaming. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus on her, each movement causing more pain. He winced, biting down on his lower lip to stifle a groan.

"You may call me Celeste," She spoke softly, "Who left you here? Not many Fae visit this part of the woods."

Celeste's name rolled off his tongue like a soothing balm, a stark contrast to the hellish reality of his situation. He could barely believe that such a kind soul existed amidst the cruelty of his world.

"My... Father... He brought me here," Eris murmured, his words slurred from pain and exhaustion. "He said I deserved punishment." He swallowed hard, his throat feeling raw and dry. "Why are you here? This place is dangerous…"

His gaze drifted to the door again, half expecting his father to burst in at any moment, only to find Celeste instead. It was confusing, overwhelming, yet somehow reassuring.

"I'm a witch," She admits casually, waving her hand to produce a bunch of different plants and salves.

Eris watched in awe as Celeste waved her hand, conjuring up veritable herbs and ointments. Witchcraft was often spoken of in hushed tones, seen as a threat to the established order. To see it before him now, used to ease his suffering, filled him with hope.

"Witchcraft is outlawed in Autumn..." He began weakly, his voice trailing off as he stared at the array of healing items. "But I don't care right now. Please, help me."

"Yeah, because we can just outlaw faeries." Celeste snorted, reaching for a paste to put on his cuts.

Celeste's flippant remark brought a wry smile to Eris' lips despite the agony. There was a spark of defiance in her tone, a refusal to be cowed by the oppressive forces that ruled their lands.

As she applied the cooling paste to his wounds, Eris felt a sense of peace wash over him. For the first time since being dragged into this nightmare, he allowed himself to relax, trusting in Celeste's ministrations.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing to a particularly vibrant dark purple herb. "It smells wonderful."

Celeste glanced up, her pink diamond eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's Nightshade Bloom. It has remarkable healing properties. Among other things... My friend from the Night Court got them for me."

"Nightshade? Isn't that poisonous?" Eris asked, intrigued despite his weakened state. He knew the basics of herbalism in Prythian from his studies, but this was beyond anything he'd encountered.

Celeste chuckled softly, her fingers deftly crushing the petals into a fine powder. "Poison and medicine are two sides of the same coin. It's all in how you use it." She mixed the Nightshade with a clear gel, forming a thick paste that glimmered in the dim light.

Carefully, she applied the mixture to Eris' worst wounds, humming a lilting tune under her breath. The pain receded, replaced by a warm tingling sensation that spread through his body. Eris found himself relaxing into her touch, lulled by the melody. "There now, when it dries, it means you've healed."

Eris watched, mesmerized, as Celeste worked her magic. With each application of the paste, he felt his body responding, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a strange sensation of renewal. Despite himself, he found his eyelids growing heavy, the rhythmic hum of her song lulling him into a state of peaceful numbness.

"I've never met a witch before," He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're… very different from what I imagined."

Celeste hummed as she moved behind him, taking care of his back, "What did you imagine witches look like?"

Eris sighed softly, the question drawing him further into a meditative trance. "An old crones, ugly and wicked," He confessed. "With pointed hats and brooms. But you… You're beautiful, kind."

A wave of warmth washed over him as Celeste touched his injured back, sending tendrils of pleasure weaving through his sore muscles. His eyes fluttered closed, his mind adrift on a sea of comfort and relief.

"And your magic… it's so gentle, so caring," he continued, his voice little more than a whisper. "Nothing like the wild storms or sudden lightning that people fear."

"Well, I could cause sudden lightening if that's what you prefer to see." Celeste joked. "Or flood this little shed."

Eris laughed weakly, the sound rough and ragged from disuse. There was something endearing about Celeste's brash humor, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere of his predicament.

"That might startle me," He teased back, attempting to lighten the mood despite the discomfort still plaguing his body. "Although, I think I prefer your gentler magic."

His eyes remained shut, the sensation of the Nightshade working its wonders on his back too pleasant to risk opening them. The rhythmic cadence of her movements lulled him into a relaxed state, his worries drifting away like leaves on the wind. "Thank you, love."

"Of course, just don't tell anyone about this..." Celeste whispered softly.

"I won't..." When Eris opened his eyes, the mysterious which was gone, leaving him alone in the shed.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

#erisweek2024 #acotar #acotar series #acomaf #acosf #acowar #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fluff #eris vandaddy #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #autumn court #high lord eris #eris x oc

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blueraineshadows · 14 days

Text

Devil's Snare

Garreth Weasley x F!MC

3.4k words NSFW 🔞 smut / bondage / slight tentacle kink vibe

This is a one-shot smut fic in collaboration with @newbienewness Her NSFW artwork has a censored version under the cut. Full version available on her Poipiku HERE

Despite the early afternoon hour, the skies were dark and heavy, the air thick with the impending promise of rain. MC looked up at the swollen clouds suspended above the Highland peaks and felt that frisson of expectation, the atmosphere heavy and full of anticipation, the pressure that always came before a storm. Adjusting her satchel on her shoulder, she turned back to see where Garreth had gotten to. She noticed the comforting sight of his copper hair, all tousled and in disarray, through the boughs of a bush. He was foraging for potion ingredients, humming a nonsensical tune as he carefully wrapped leaves in muslin and tucked them safely in his bag.

Smiling fondly, she brushed some loose strands of hair back into the twist at the back of her head and pursed her lips into a low whistle, the sound making Garreth turn expectantly.

“Maybe we should seek some shelter,” she suggested, pointing up towards the angry sky. “I think there is a storm incoming. Or, should we head back?”

Garreth squinted up at the darkening sky and nibbled thoughtfully at his lower lip. “We can’t go back yet, my angel cake,” he said, digging in his pocket to retrieve a crumpled piece of parchment, scanning his list of requirements he had scrawled hastily in ink earlier that morning. “We still need to find horklumps, and I could do with some more dittany, I’ve not gathered nearly enough considering the amount of healing potions I seem to make.”

He gave her a look through his lashes that brought a smirk to her lips, her hands planting themselves firmly on the curve of her waist as she looked at him. “I hope you aren’t suggesting I am accident prone, Weasley,” she huffed.

His grin was as infectious as ever as he tucked his list back into his pocket. “Darling, you are worse than me at stumbling across calamity,” he winked. “It’s one of the many things we have in common, including a rather wonderful habit of enjoying very inappropriate and addictive snogging.”

“Garreth…” she warned, her hands leaving her waist and lifting upwards as he strode purposefully towards her, a mischievous glint in his evergreen eyes.

“Mmm, yes please,” he murmured, his arms snaking about her waist and tugging her closer against his solid frame, his lips seeking out eager kisses along her jaw before claiming her mouth in a warm and lingering kiss.

Her giggles immediately melted into a soft sound of pleasure at the swell of languid bliss only he could conjure as the kiss deepened, the impending downpour above their heads momentarily forgotten as his hands roamed downwards to cup her hips. Apparently the slow, and steamy sex they had shared in bed first thing this morning had not been enough to temper the burn in Garreth, his hands urging her hips against him as he hummed in appreciation. Six months married, and the honeymoon period was still firmly in full swing.

Their feet scuffed through the long grass until MC felt the press of rough bark against her back, Garreth’s breathing becoming heavier and more heated as she threaded her fingers through the glorious tumble of his thick hair.

“Hmm, this isn’t finding your dittany, is it?” She murmured, her eyelids lowering as he mouthed along her throat with teasing lips.

“Dittany can wait, my love. I’ve caught the scent of a very different kind of foraging.” He smirked, his fingers dipping lower under the curve of her arse and pressing urgently into her soft flesh through her skirt. Her body responded eagerly, heat pooling with a swiftness that had her back arching wantonly. She could feel her resistance slipping away, the isolated wilderness of the Highlands and the blistering burn she had for her husband, making her willingly lose herself in the moment.

However, the distant rumble of thunder that cut across the goliath peaks surrounding them had other ideas about their lusty intentions. Glancing up at the ominous clouds, she clutched Garreth’s shoulders with a soft sigh.

“We need to get a move on, Garreth,” she warned. “If I remember correctly, there is a cave network up round the next bend in the path. We can shelter there.”

“And continue this rather enticing exploration?” He suggested, one eyebrow quirked salaciously as he nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers.

She huffed in amusement, cupping freckled cheeks in her hands and pecking him lightly on the lips. “How about we find those horklumps on your list?”

“And then nookie?”

Laughter bubbled up her throat as she looked at his eager face, her chest swelling with affection as she shook her head. “You are insatiable.”

“Can you blame me?” He grinned, squeezing the soft curves of her backside greedily.

“Come on,” she said, capturing his wrists and straightening away from the tree. “Let’s find that cave.”

Another louder roll of thunder echoed across the valley, and the first few drops of rain began to pepper the ground, splashing onto their cheeks as they began to hurry along the path. Flickers of sheet lightning lit up the sky, the birds that had been chirping in the trees falling silent as the atmosphere became loaded with tension, the very air they breathed thick with humidity and anticipation.

“Hurry,” Garreth said, catching hold of her hand, glancing up at the sky as larger splats of rain began to fall. “How far is this cave?”

“I’m sure it’s just round this bend,” MC said, running now, their feet thudding against the dirt path with renewed urgency.

Wishing she had worn a cloak, MC clutched Garreth’s hand as they ran, the sky finally bursting and releasing a torrent of huge raindrops that began to plaster their hair to their heads. The path inclined up the side of the peak, her calf muscles beginning to burn from effort as Garreth urged her on. The rain was so heavy it obscured the view across the valley, her vision blurry as rain ran down from her hair and into her eyes.

Ahead, to the side of the path, yawned the black maw of the cave entrance. A creeping vine grew over the rock, long boughs drooping across the entrance and swaying gently in the quickening breeze.

“Quick, inside!” She shouted, a huge crash of thunder sounding above their heads.

It had been a long time since she had explored the caves in this part of the valley, their plans to forage slightly further afield than usual in order to seek out a higher abundance of crop seemingly landing them with fresh adventure. With the weather chasing them into shelter, MC glanced around the gloom of the cave entrance as she wiped rain from her cheeks, praying to Merlin that they wouldn’t disturb a nest of giant spiders.

“Oh, look! Horklumps!” Garreth stepped further into the gloom, dripping rain water as he crouched down near a cluster, pulling out his wand and a glass bottle for the juice. Horklumps could be feisty if not handled correctly, but Garreth had a magic touch with them, easing them carefully from their resting place and extracting the juice with gentle but firm hands.

MC eyed the darkness that lay behind where Garreth was crouched, wary and uncertain of their safety. Drawing out her own wand, she moved carefully around him, lighting the Lumos spell to expose the rear of the cave. White light cast outwards in an orb that glowed brightly, revealing an incline tunnel that was seething with Devil’s Snare, its slick tendrils reflecting the light of her spell as it twisted and recoiled from the brightness.

“Careful, this place is full of Devil’s Snare,” she warned, leaning forward to peer down the tunnel. She lifted her wand to try and make the orb of light stretch further, gasping as a cold tentacle slithered against her arm. She flinched, losing her balance, and tumbled down into the coiling mass of the plant. Her wand flipped out of her grip and rolled down the incline, catching itself against a rock, the Devil’s Snare seeming to hiss as it recoiled from the flickering light.

“Garreth,” she cried, writhing against the twisting tentacles that began to immediately wrap themselves around her limbs.

Garreth got to his feet, hurrying forward with a look of alarm. “Don’t panic,” he instructed, holding his hands out towards her. “The light will keep it weak, you just need to relax and it should let you go. Deep breaths, sweetheart.”

She stared up at him, fighting back her flutter of panic as a chilled tentacle snaked up under her skirt. The cold caress of the plant against her thigh made her breath stutter slightly, a flush colouring her cheeks at the sensitivity it caused, her body already on edge and heated from her passionate kiss with Garreth under the tree. Her eyes fixated on the tentacle, wide and stunned as it wrapped around her thigh, the tip brushing against her underwear and drawing a surprised moan from her throat.

“What is it doing?” Garreth asked, his eyes scanning over her as she arched, writhing with a mixture of fear and shocked arousal. Her arms were pulled tight above her head as the greedy plant pulled her towards the tunnel wall, the leg wrapped snugly being pulled to one side and making her skirt ride dangerously upwards.

“Garreth,” she gasped, her mouth falling open as the plant seemed to sense the shift in her emotions. “What’s happening?”

The way it moved and curled around her body was almost sensual, the slick tendrils not hurting her, but rather caressing along her limbs and holding her just tight enough to prevent her escape, but not squeezing her to death as one would expect. Her heart hammered as she became suspended within its grasp, her limbs spread and pinned, her skirt bunched up at her waist to expose her high stockings and panties.

What shocked her just as deeply was the darkened look that had crept across Garreth’s face as he watched, transfixed as she was spread before him, bound and helpless and completely stunned at the turn of events. He visibly swallowed, his throat bobbing as his gaze lingered between her thighs.

“The plant…it’s…it’s touching you…” His voice was hoarse, uncertain, his eyes widening as the tentacle tip writhed right across her most intimate area.

A shocked moan left her, and she tried to look downwards, her arms reflexively pulling against her bonds as desire pooled in her stomach, but the plant subtly tightened and held her arms firm. This couldn’t be happening, and yet it was. Devil’s Snare was attempting to arouse her! A plant made for sin indeed.

“Is this normal?” She squeaked, another shocked sound leaving her throat as another tentacle began to slide up her other leg.

Garreth slowly shook his head, mouth parted. “I honestly don’t know…but it’s rather…arousing. In a shocking, but darkly erotic way.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

He was moving forward, his hand sliding up her shin towards her knee, his spread fingers cupping her knee cap in a way that sent tingles of fire straight to her core.

“What…what are you doing, Garreth?” Her leg twitched at the combined touch of his hand and the devilish plant. “You’ll get captured, too. Stop.”

“Oh, I think it’s a bit late for that,” he murmured, his fingers dancing lightly up over the tentacle to curl into the embarrassingly soaked cotton of her panties. “Mmm, you’re so wet, sweetheart.”

“Gods,” she moaned, her head tilting back as Garreth slid two fingers into her throbbing heat, her walls tightening in searing bliss despite the utter disbelief that shuddered down her spine. “That feels…mmph.”

The tentacles writhed and held firm, the cavern lit by the glow of her spell still held by her wand on the ground, holding back the rest of the plant that swayed eagerly in the shadows of the tunnel. Her mind spun in dizzying circles as Garreth pumped his fingers in a toe curling rhythm, the warmth of his closeness in direct comparison to the chilled slither of her bonds.

“You are breathtaking, darling,” he whispered, his emerald eyes glittering with dark desire.

Her sweet Garreth, so wholesome and warm, the truth of her heart, was kneeling on a cavern floor, pleasuring her whilst a deathly plant held her captive. None of this made sense, the madness of it all adding to the building anticipation as her body betrayed all manner of sense and reason. MC found her restraint fading back into the shadows as she allowed the sinful pleasure to consume her blood, every thump and pulse of her heart sending aching need flooding through her body, her hips rolling against Garreth’s hand as the plant caressed and pinned her to the rock face.

She had no control over any of it, not the plant, or her husband as his hot breath fanned across the twitching flesh of her inner thigh. His copper curls brushed along the incredibly sensitive skin as he bowed his head lower, a cry of dark pleasure echoing around the cave as his mouth began to devour her flooded entrance.

She stared up at the writhing darkness of the cave roof, her chest heaving with each rasping breath, her moans desperate and low as she longed to bury her hands into Garreth’s silken hair. He knew what she liked, and he gave it to her effortlessly, despite the lingering potential death that coiled and slithered around them both.

Cool tentacles slid up her sides and curled at her neck, her hair slipping from its elegant twist to tumble about her face and adding to the wanton abandon that shone on her face. The added danger was inexplicably arousing, adding an edge to her pleasure that she couldn’t fathom, her core tightening with delicious fire that rolled in languid waves, back and forth in a building rhythm.

She thought she should cry out a warning, she should stop Garreth before things become too out of hand, and yet, her hips rocked to his rhythm, the Devil’s Snare seeming to understand and provide just enough pressure that increased the building ache.

“Garreth!”

His name was a plea on her trembling lips, her chest and neck flushing with heat as a shockingly fierce climax began to rip through her, muscles tightening deliciously and her toes curling into graceful points like a prima ballerina. Her hands flexed into the darkness as the Devil’s Snare slithered soothing caresses along her limbs, coaxing the peak of her pleasure and prolonging the sweet agony as Garreth’s tongue swirled. Wave upon wave of fire rolled through her core, blistering under her skin and pulling muscles into pulsing tightness. The cry that left her echoed around the cavern, like a calling to whatever dark gods would listen.

Garreth lapped greedily, his tongue working her through the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced, savouring the essence of her release as he coaxed knowing fingers along her contracting walls. He moaned deeply, the low hum of it hot against her flesh, sending vibrations that echoed off the tingling aftershocks of her release.

“I can’t…” She whimpered, her head rolling to the side, her lungs expanding rapidly as she tried to breathe through the fire that consumed her. “Too much…”

“It’s okay,” Garreth soothed, pressing kisses along her thighs as he looked up at her flushed face, the sheen of sweat on her skin glistening in her wand light. “You are shaking, but I’m going to need you to try and stand. Don’t worry, I will catch you.”

Blinking wearily, she tried to focus on him with a frown. “What?”

“On my word,” he said carefully. “Be ready to grab hold of me. Alright?”

Garreth was holding his wand, his gaze wandering carefully over the tendrils of Devil’s Snare that still writhed along her trembling limbs. MC tried to grasp a sense of reality, her blood still singing and her pulse flickering with an intensity that made the cavern spin. Garreth soothed a hand up her trembling thigh, his touch and the look in his eyes beginning to ground her as he aimed his wand into the heart of the dark, writhing mass that held her bound to the rock face.

“Now! Lumos maxima!”

Blinding white light flooded the cave, the coiling mass of Devil’s Snare retracting violently with an audible hiss that sent shivers down MC’s spine. The tentacles holding her arms loosened immediately, releasing her from their grip, her upper body lurching forward so suddenly she gasped. Remembering vaguely what Garreth had said, she tried to reach out for him, her arms feeling like useless, weightless entities that missed him entirely. Her eyes were blinded by the sudden brightness, but she felt solid arms capture her as her legs were released from their cold bonds, her body wrapped into the comforting press of her husband’s embrace.

“I’ve got you,” he promised near her ear.

They were moving, cool air drifting across her flushed cheeks as she blinked, the cavern entrance swimming into view.

“Did that really just happen?” She croaked.

Garreth paused near the entrance of the cave, setting her down gently before sitting down against the rock face, gathering her into his arms and holding her with a reverent gentleness that was more in keeping with the man she had married, and not the darkly erotic master who had rendered her boneless back there. Meeting his gaze, she stared at the familiar lines of his face, the warm green of his eyes as she shivered and rubbed her hands over her the damp flesh of her forearms.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he said, biting his lip. “You were just…”

He shook his head, speechless.

“It was…sexy,” she admitted, blushing. “Dark…but sexy.”

He nodded, his eyes darkening once again as they travelled over her. “It really was.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the shock and disbelief evident on both their faces. The intensity of her pleasure had shaken her to the core, her soul rising up in an out of body experience that had shattered her mind and turned her insides into molten flame. How was it possible for a plant to invoke such power? There was no sense or reason to it, but the effects had left her trembling and in awe of the capabilities of her own desire. The intense intimacy of it all had her fingers clutching at her husband in an effort to ground herself.

“Don’t you dare tell Leander about this,” she warned, knowing Garreth told his best friend far too much as it was.

Garreth huffed a laugh, and shook his head. “He wouldn’t believe me, even if I did. No. I won’t be telling a soul about this. I can hardly believe it myself.”

Staring into the tunnel, she could see the soft glow of her wand illuminating the dark mass of writhing boughs of the plant, the twisting arms reaching up in undulating turns that seemed to be beckoning her back into their cold embrace. She shivered again, remembering the erotic allure of being bound and out of control. Her heart was beginning to return to a normal, steady beat, her body calming after the shock of that toe curling release. But, the memory of it lingered, a tantalising and erotic tease turning in her mind.

She slid her gaze back to Garreth, eyeing him curiously. “No more Devil’s Snare, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you tying me up like that and having your way with me. If you would so wish.”

His pretty eyes widened at her admission, that dark lust that made the green of eyes filter into the glow that came under forest canopies on summer days, his soft, damp lips parting as he considered her words.

“You still have the power to make me fall for you all over again. You know that, right?”

Her slow smile curved upwards, her eyes filled with the deepest bond of love she carried in her heart for him. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a fuck yes,” he said, tugging her forwards so he could kiss her full on the mouth with a groan.

Chuckling, she brushed back his hair and smiled against his mouth. “Then I suggest you go fetch my wand back, and get us out of here. Take me home and have your wicked way with me.”

“Yes, my lady,” he groaned softly, capturing her lips for another long and lingering kiss.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x f!mc #blueraineshadows #newbienewness

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rainforestakiie · 2 months

Text

omega lucifer x omega adam part 05! so excited! the fall in next part!

lucifer and adam meets eve again! and she's after a lot more then just learning about being an omega! also, adam sees why lucifer is considered to be one of the most fearful angels~

Nest of the Damned (Omegaverse Omega/Omega) Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04. Part 05. Extra 01.

Full Version

Their heat lasted nearly two weeks, a period marked by sheer luck and chance. Their minds cleared only for brief intervals, just long enough to realise their need for sustenance. In those fleeting moments, they would dart out of their nest, driven by desperation, to hastily gather whatever they could find. If Lucifer wasn’t the one jolting awake, it was Adam, each taking turns to hurriedly scavenge for food and water. Their intense bond made it unbearable to be apart, compelling them to grab the first things they saw.

At last, their heat subsided, leaving the two Omegas lying side by side in exhaustion. Their bodies were spent, burning, and tingling after countless hours of unrelenting passion. Neither could move much, their fingers barely entwined as they lay on their backs, breathing heavily and gazing up at the delicate purple and pink flowers above them.

“Are…” Lucifer licked his swollen, sore lips. His pale skin was adorned with marks of love and passion. “Are you okay?”

Adam didn’t respond immediately. His body was a mirror image of Lucifer’s. “Hmm, I feel… happy? But also… sore.”

“I’m happy too,” the angel sighed. Summoning all the remaining strength within him, Lucifer squeezed Adam’s hand, feeling a surge of pride at this small act.

Sniffling, Adam’s eyelids began to droop. Fatigue took hold, and he found himself drifting off, only to force himself awake again. "Luci, what was that? Why did we feel like that?"

Lucifer sucked in his lips, his cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk’s. "I... I don't know... that’s never happened to me before."

"Was it because we ate the apple?" Adam asked, his voice becoming soft and low. "Was it our punishment from God?"

Lucifer didn't want to agree, he really didn't. But considering the sudden burst of heat and the overwhelming need for passion was something new, and it had occurred immediately after they ate the apple of knowledge, the coincidence seemed too likely to be dismissed.

"It's likely..." he mumbled quietly, his eyes fluttering half-lidded. "It wasn't bad, was it?"

"Well... it hurt when we weren't... you know," Adam replied. He squirmed a little, trying to roll onto his side. His face scrunched up from the aches and pains that wracked his body. It wasn't a terrible pain; it was almost enjoyable. "What about you? How do you feel?"

Seeing Adam's successful attempt to roll onto his side, despite feeling so exhausted and spent, Lucifer felt compelled to do the same. It took him longer, hindered by his numb wings, but he eventually managed to meet Adam's gaze.

"I felt the same way. It was like we were being burned from the inside out," Lucifer said thoughtfully.

"A heat," Adam mused. "Like the animals in the summer."

Lucifer raised a weak hand to brush Adam's thick hair out of his face, his fingers caressing along Adam's cheeks. He smiled as Adam closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "Are you mad at me?"

"About the apple?" the human Omega questioned softly. "A little."

"I'm sorry," Lucifer murmured, his voice laced with deep remorse. “I know it was wrong, but I just…I just wanted to heal you. To undo the damage that was done. It was my fault you got hurt, because I was selfish and arrogant.”

With a tender hum, Adam leaned forward, their faces touching as he nuzzled Lucifer with a comforting purr. His hands traced along Lucifer’s pale skin, gently caressing his mating glands. Lucifer shuddered from the touch, causing Adam’s emerald eyes to light up with affection.

“I forgive you,” Adam whispered softly, a gentle rumble emanating from his throat. “I know you did it for me. The heat was frightening, but it was bearable because of you, because I had you by my side. That means everything to me. You didn’t leave me alone.”

Lucifer's own rumble echoed Adam’s, and the Archangel enveloped them both in his wings once more. He pressed their aching bodies together, burying his face into Adam’s shoulder. Slowly, tremors coursed through Lucifer as his hands shifted from tense to gentle.

“Why are you crying?” Adam asked softly, slipping his arms around the Angel. His hands moved soothingly up and down Lucifer’s back, while the other hand gently stroked the back of Lucifer’s head, fingers running through the soft golden curls. “Were you really worried I would be angry at you?”

"Of course," Lucifer whimpered, tightening his embrace. He sniffled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he hiccuped painfully. "I thought...thought you might be furious with me, you might even hate me."

"Why would you think that?" Adam cooed softly.

Lucifer pulled back to meet Adam's gaze. His sapphire blue eyes were glassy and watery, tears gathering at the corners. "Because I'm a bad person, Adam! I'm a terrible, terrible person, an awful Angel! It's my fault you got hurt! I was too selfish! I didn’t want Lilith to see how beautiful you are and take you away! I wanted you to be my Omega, and the thought of her wanting you broke me! I couldn't stand seeing you with someone else!"

"Why would you think Lilith would ever want to be with me?" Adam tilted his head in curiosity. "Lilith hates me. From the very beginning, from the moment she was created, she looked at me with disdain. She was never kind to me, never enjoyed my company. Lilith went out of her way to avoid me long before you started spending time with her. Lilith was never nice to me."

Lucifer's bottom lip quivered, and he shook his head furiously. "You just don't understand. You just don't see yourself the way I do. Adam, you're the most gorgeous Omega I've ever seen! Lilith would have noticed eventually, and it hurt to think of her noticing...it hurt to think of you both noticing each other."

"You... were made for one another... and I..." Lucifer's face scrunched up, his chest aching. "You and Lilith were destined to be together, to be the parents of humanity, and I'm just an Angel. I wasn't made for you, but I wish I was. I wish I was so very badly, and I..."

Cupping Lucifer's blue cheek, Adam caressed the soft flesh with a tender kiss. "But you're wrong. We were made for each other."

"But..." Lucifer whimpered.

"Luci, it was just you and me at the beginning, remember?" Adam said lovingly. "Before Lilith's creation, it was just us. God created both you and me; Lilith was different, wasn't she?"

Nodding slowly, Lucifer snuggled in closer, his panic and fear beginning to settle. "Lilith was created by us, the Angels. Or well, Uriel, really, with Michael and Sera overseeing."

"Exactly!" Adam squealed adorably. He smothered Lucifer's face in butterfly kisses, making his loving Omega mate giggle. "God created us, so he made us for each other. There's a difference."

"I still shouldn't have made Lilith believe we were going to mate..." Lucifer sighed, returning the butterfly kisses just as sweetly. "It's my fault she hurt you. Because I tricked her, I wanted to make sure she would never desire you, so I made sure she never looked your way. In doing that... she hurt you because I manipulated her."

"Do you feel sorry for doing that to her?" Adam asked softly.

Lucifer looked away shamefully. "No, I don't. I'm sorry she hurt you. I'm so, so sorry you got hurt because of my actions. That's what I regret. But I don't regret tricking her to have you. I would do it again if I had to."

"At least you're honest," Adam teased, a soft blush on his cheeks. Lucifer would really do anything to be with him? It warmed his heart. "I don't hate you at all, Luci. I love you. I love you more than anything. I could never hate you. Never."

A rumbling purr of happiness escaped Lucifer. "You forgive me for tricking you into eating the apple?"

"I knew you tricked me!" Adam gasped before giggling in amusement. "You're really good at doing that."

Raising an eyebrow, Lucifer tilted his head. "I'm good at manipulating to get my way?"

"Yes," the human Omega snorted. His expression was more than adorable, it was something new that Lucifer would never forget. "I guess it's your talent."

Lucifer was unsure of what to say, unsure if it was a good thing or not. But still, his chest bubbled with warmth from how sweet and beautiful Adam was. He immediately kissed him, unable to stop himself. Maybe it was a good thing his mate appreciated his... cheekiness? Yes, it was his cheekiness.

Even if Lucifer did enjoy being a snake…

“I love you, even the tricks and words you use!” Adam added with a laugh. “I don’t care if you do that that thing - manipulating, I love you anyway~”

~#~

Their heats became a cherished routine, a rhythmic dance that intertwined their souls every three months. At first, it was a bit overwhelming, but the experience was comforting and intimate. It was best when they nestled in their shared sanctuary, a cocoon of comfort and warmth. The intensity of their connection grew with each cycle, their bond strengthening like an unbreakable thread.

Lucifer had given him the apple, hoping to undo the damage Lilith had inflicted. Although the apple hadn't fully healed Adam—he still bore the nasty scar, and his glands hadn't regrown—he had gained something new. Adam still couldn't release his own scent or detect Lucifer's Omega scent, but he could feel it. He could sense Lucifer's presence, like butterflies dancing across his skin. Even when Lucifer wasn't nearby, Adam felt his essence. He might have lost parts of his inner Omega, but he discovered new aspects that were still unfolding.

A giggle escaped Adam as his skin tingled from another sweet wave of sensation, akin to wings caressing him, even though Lucifer's wings were nowhere near. It felt like being cuddled by feathers, a sensation that brought a bright smile to Adam's face. His emerald eyes sparkled as he crawled closer to the slumbering Omega Archangel. Lucifer lay curled on his side, his soft wings spread across their nest, fluttering with each gentle snore.

He was so adorable.

Adam moved closer, sitting on his knees beside the sleeping Angel. He giggled again as Lucifer's Omega pheromones washed over him like delicate feathers. With tender fingers, Adam brushed the blonde curls from Lucifer's face. A soft blush bloomed on Lucifer's cheeks, and while Adam could feel Lucifer's Omega scent, he wondered if Lucifer could sense his unscented pheromones.

With a loving touch, Adam leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Lucifer’s rosy cheek. He then whispered, "I wonder if you can feel me, the way I feel you." His heart swelled with affection, knowing that even without a scent, their bond was palpable, a beautiful testament to their unbreakable connection.

"You make me happy. Even if there were rough patches, you make me so happy. I don't understand how I can feel so much joy; it's like my heart is going to burst," Adam whispered, careful not to disturb Lucifer's sleep. He touched his chest, feeling his heart pound. "I don't really understand everything I feel; there are so many things I don't know. But I'm not scared. I'm not scared because I'm with you, and you make me feel so happy..."

Lucifer made a soft sound in his sleep, humming gently as Adam continued to run his fingers through his soft blonde hair. Adam smiled down at him with such love that it physically hurt.

"And I'm sorry... I'm sorry you had to give up everything to be with me in Eden. It's not fair that you were punished just because we love each other. It's not fair you can never go home, back to Heaven." Adam bit his bottom lip. "It's not fair you lost your siblings because you wanted to be with me... but I'm still happy, even though you lost everything. I-I'm s-still happy I get to be with you..."

Adam sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his other hand. "That makes me sound selfish, doesn't it? I'm selfish and awful because I am glad you're down here with me and not up there. I hated it when you would leave me to go back to Heaven. I really hated that feeling of being left behind."

Did it make him awful? Did it make him terrible? Adam just wanted to be with Lucifer forever. The Archangel was his lover, his mate, his everything. And it hurt every time Lucifer had to return to Heaven. Adam really didn't like it when his mate left him behind. So he was happy when Lucifer was banished from Heaven because that meant they could stay together.

And that makes him a terrible person! He was so selfish!

Adam was broken from his sad thoughts by a sound. A branch snapping outside the purple blossoms hanging like a wall. His green eyes scanned the inside of the purple wisteria, gazing softly at the glittering sunlight shining between the petals. Adam shuffled on his knees, leaning forward with his head tilted to the left, straining his ears. After a while, when Adam didn't hear anything and Lucifer let out another adorable sneeze in his slumber, the Omega immediately returned to his loving mate.

Lucifer's wings fluttered in his sleep, appearing inviting. Adam was just about to crawl into the wings and snuggle up to sleep too, deciding to store his worrying thoughts away, when he heard another sound. This time it was much closer to their purple wisteria, and Adam sprung up with wide eyes.

He could see a shadow on the other side of the flower wall. Somebody was definitely outside!

Curiosity mixed with anxiety filled him. His hairs stood on end. Who would come close to their nest? Who would dare enter their domain? Fear began to rear its head, and Adam glanced towards Lucifer, wondering if he should wake up his mate. Adam would feel much safer with Lucifer at his side!

...but... but Lucifer needed to sleep. Adam didn't want to disturb his rest!

Inhaling deeply, Adam turned back to the purple flowers. His stomach churned as he made his decision. The human Omega climbed to his wobbly feet, beginning to approach the flowers, only to stop. Adam's emerald eyes flickered down on himself, gazing at his pale skin and feeling a deep blush spread across his cheeks in horrified realisation.

He was naked! He didn't want to walk around in front of somebody who wasn't Lucifer like this! It was the first time Adam had ever felt such embarrassment and horror. He tilted his head, eyes landing on the robe Lucifer had given him. His Angel hadn't taught him how to wear it yet, but Adam grabbed it, wrapping himself up in it. It was a bit of a struggle to position it similarly to how Lucifer wore his, but it would have to do! Adam was sure Lucifer would teach him later.

Adam ducked beneath the cascading blossoms of purple wisteria, their sweet fragrance enveloping him. He squinted his emerald eyes, peering into the lush expanse of the Garden of Eden. It didn’t take long for him to spot the figure prowling outside their sanctuary.

A woman.

She bore a striking resemblance to Lilith, but her thick red curls and large brown eyes set her apart. Her skin was kissed by a constellation of freckles. Although Adam couldn't catch her scent, he sensed her Omega nature. His stomach tightened, and he stiffened. Had she come to their nest because of Lucifer? Could she detect his pheromones?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Adam shuffled his feet, his hair standing on end as he glanced over his shoulder. The idea of someone taking his mate away filled him with dread.

"Um..." He turned back to the woman, awkwardly. "Why are you here?"

She jumped in surprise, a radiant smile spreading across her lips. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" Adam blinked, confused.

"Because you're an Omega, like me," she said, stepping forward cautiously. "I wanted to meet the other Omegas of Eden. Lilith, my Alpha, told me about you and your mate."

Adam's eyes narrowed, his skin prickling at the mention of Lilith. So, this woman was his replacement. Sera had created a new Omega for Lilith. "You shouldn’t be here."

"But I just wanted to talk to you." The woman's smile faltered, her brows knitting together in sadness. "I don’t understand why that’s a bad thing."

"You—you should leave," Adam forced out, his voice wavering between compassion and protectiveness. This was their sanctuary, their nest, and this woman was an outsider. An Omega no less. It wasn't safe for her to be in their domain. "Leave," he repeated, his voice gaining strength only to falter slightly. "P-please."

The female Omega blinked at him, a myriad of emotions flickering across her face. Some expressions were foreign to Adam, leaving him puzzled. Suddenly, her brown eyes seemed to light up with understanding, and she tilted her head, gazing thoughtfully at him.

"You don't smell that, do you?" she asked abruptly. "Is it the same reason why I can smell you?"

Adam's spine stiffened, his posture straightening as he tried to keep his voice steady and firm, masking his nervousness under her penetrating gaze. "T-that's something personal. It doesn't—it has nothing to do with you, s-so please just leave now. I don't—I don't like that you're here, so close to my nest."

"Nest!" she exclaimed suddenly, stepping forward once more. She placed a hand over her chest, her expression filled with awe. "What's a nest? And why does my heart flutter at the mention of a nest? Do you have one? Can I see it?"

"N-no," Adam inhaled deeply, trying to steady his racing heart. "No, that's private. You—nobody is allowed to see an Omega's nest unless invited by the Omega."

"You're an Omega," the woman pointed out with a soft chuckle. "You won't invite me?"

Adam's mouth fell slack as he shook his head. "No, I won't invite you into my nest. It's a private, intimate thing. Outsiders aren't allowed in."

"I'm an outsider?" the female Omega asked with a hint of amusement. "Me?"

"Yes," Adam nodded, his fingers nervously tangling in the white robe he wore. "So leave now, please and thank you."

Instead of leaving, the woman tilted her head in curiosity. "What is that?" she asked, gesturing to the white robe. "Why do you hide yourself under it? Lilith and I don’t have those things. What are they for?"

Adam glanced down at his robe, its fabric soft and flowing around him. "It's... It gives me comfort and protection. We all have our own ways of feeling safe."

The red-haired Omega continued to gaze at Adam, her eyes boring into him with an intensity that made him want to turn and flee. The mere thought of her invading his nest, disrupting the sanctuary he and Lucifer had painstakingly created, was horrifying. It was too much for him to back down and let her pass. Adam's heart raced, the pulse pounding in his ears. He also couldn't bear the thought of her seeing Lucifer as he was, sleeping peacefully in the nude.

"Lilith told me about you," she said softly. "She said you couldn't be trusted. A bad Omega, one who would go out of their way to take what doesn't belong to them."

Adam's face contorted in pain, his lips trembling as he exhaled softly. "Lilith...doesn't like me. She has never liked me. It's understandable she would say those things, considering her feelings."

"Why doesn't she like you?" the woman asked.

"I don't know," Adam shrugged, glancing away. "I guess I annoyed her too much. I never took anything that belonged to her. She was told 'no.' That should have been enough, that should have ended the...disagreement."

The female Omega fell silent again, her eyebrows furrowing in thought, her lips curling crookedly. Adam continued to watch her, hoping she had learned enough and would leave, but she remained standing before him with no intention of departing.

"You're mated to another Omega, aren't you?" she finally asked, making Adam sigh. "Lilith said that was wrong. Was that a disagreement? She claimed you took away her mate, that before I was created, she had a mate you tricked and lured away."

"She's wrong," Adam said, his voice trembling. He bit his bottom lip and clenched his hands together. "It's not about whether mating with this person is wrong, it's about being with the person who makes you happy, who makes you feel loved. My mate and I, we were already close before Lilith was made. It was us from the beginning...and..."

Adam paused to steady himself. He raised his apple-green eyes to meet the woman. "And you can't claim ownership over a person. Nobody can. That's cruel and a horrible thing to do. Nobody belongs to anybody, we're all free."

"Free..." she whispered in awe. "Nobody can own somebody?"

Adam nodded firmly. "That's right. Lilith never had ownership over my mate. He might have been misguided in some of his actions, but he never approached her with the intention to mate. The moment he realised what she wanted, he told her 'no.' It was Lilith who wouldn't accept that."

"No means no, in every way," Adam stated firmly. "You can't force somebody to love you. You can't force somebody to care for you. You can't force somebody to mate with you. You can't compel someone to be with you for the rest of their life."

The female Omega opened her mouth but then shut it again. Her eyes grew glassy, her pupils dilating. Her crimson curls shimmered in the sunlight of Eden. "No means no. No matter what. You can't force somebody to love you. To mate with you."

Adam tilted his head innocently. "Are you happy?"

"What?" She jumped, startled.

"Are you happy with Lilith?" Adam asked. "Is she being nice to you?"

The Omega didn't answer immediately. She appeared to be genuinely considering Adam's words, her face pinching uncomfortably. "Happy? I...I want to be happy. Why does it matter if I'm happy or not? I don't understand."

"Of course it matters if you're happy. My mate makes me extremely happy. I'm the happiest when I am with him," Adam explained as softly and tenderly as possible. His chest fluttered with warmth at the thought of his beloved mate. Lucifer always made him happy; even when he was sad, Lucifer would cheer him up with ease. "You mate for love, nothing else. There should be no strings attached. Love and happiness are the two most important things in a mating courtship. Are you happy with Lilith? Does she treat you kindly? Do you love each other?"

"I care about her greatly..." the other whispered. Finally, thank God, she took a step back. Her amber eyes lowered as she chewed her cherry-red bottom lip. "I'm not sure what love is, but I care about Lilith so much. I don't know if...if she cares about me too. She does take care of me, she makes sure I'm fed and that I am comfortable. Lilith has been nice to me; she has never been mean, but cold. She has been cold to me at times."

It sounded better than his own relationship with Lilith. The Alpha had never taken care of him. She had never treated him kindly or gone out of her way to ensure he was comfortable. Maybe there was a chance at happiness for her with this new Omega. His replacement...but Adam felt no bitterness towards her at all. He just hoped for the best.

Adam was in love with his best friend. He had mated with his closest friend. He was happy with his mate. He wanted Lilith to find the same with her own mate. This female Omega, meant to be Adam's replacement, could be just that for Lilith...and then...maybe she would stop blaming him for Lucifer choosing him.

"What's your name?" the female Omega asked suddenly. "I'm named Eve."

"O-Oh, I'm Adam," he said sheepishly, nodding.

"I-I should head back now," Eve said, taking another step back. Her shiny brown eyes seemed much brighter than before, and Adam wondered if he had been the cause of the change. "I don't want Lilith to worry. I have been gone too long. I should head back to her now..."

Adam awkwardly waved. "That's a good idea."

"You know..." Eve paused as she began to turn away. "You're not what I thought you would be. I was expecting something else, but I guess there's a lot more to question than just the Angels' rules and restrictions."

Blinking in confusion, Adam raised an eyebrow. What did she think he would be like? What rules and restrictions was Eve talking about? Had he changed from what he was? That was possible!

"Could it have been the apple?" he mused softly to himself.

Eve perked up at the words. "Apple?"

"O-Oh, it's nothing—nothing! Pretend I didn't say anything!" Adam hurriedly replied.

The other Omega gave a small, not fully convinced nod before she turned completely around and began making her way back down to the forest. Adam waited until she was fully out of sight before spinning to face the purple wisteria. He leaned towards the soft indigo blossoms, inhaling their gentle fragrance. He inched forward, gently brushing his fingertips across the petals before finally ducking back underneath. He slipped back inside, where his nest and mate were waiting.

...where his mate was wide awake and sitting up, staring at Adam the moment he slipped through the hanging flowers.

"Luci!" Adam squealed in happiness. "You're awake! You're supposed to be resting!"

Automatically, Lucifer's arms reached for the human, his blue eyes shining like diamonds as Adam wasted no time throwing himself into a hug. Their arms embraced one another tightly. Adam nuzzled his face into Lucifer's neck with a purr, immediately feeling ten times better now that he was in Lucifer's arms.

"You were so patient with her," Lucifer murmured softly, returning Adam's rumbling purr with his own. His large white wings unfolded and cocooned around them. "I would have been less understanding."

Tilting his head back to meet Lucifer's eyes, Adam hummed. "She was too close."

"Yes, she came too close to our nest. She should not have done that. I gave her a warning when I saw her entering our domain the other day." Lucifer sighed, resting his forehead against Adam's. "But you were so good with her and kept your boundaries in place. I'm so proud of you."

A laugh escaped Adam, and he beamed in return. "She was made as my replacement."

"You can never be replaced," Lucifer grunted with a snort. "Perhaps as the mother of humanity, but you can't be replaced in general. You're one of a kind."

The two shared a loving kiss after the statement. Adam giggled as his arms looped around the Angel's neck. Lucifer's own hands brushed along the white robe Adam had hastily tied around himself, an amused grin taking over his lips—he'd have to teach Adam how to wear it correctly.

"But it sounds like their relationship is a good one," Lucifer spoke while pressing more kisses across Adam's face, down his throat, and to his shoulders, where Lucifer began to scent him. Granted, he knew Adam couldn't smell his pheromones, but Adam could feel them! "Sure, it is only the beginning of a relationship. It's fragile, but it sounds like Lilith and Eve are building a healthy one."

Purring, Adam pressed himself back against Lucifer. His eyes grew glassy as he felt Lucifer's Omega scent washing over his skin in ways he had never felt before. Adam sighed, resting his head against Lucifer's shoulder. "I just want them to be happy. I want us to be happy."

"They will be, and we will be," Lucifer promised, cuddling Adam once again. "I’m sure we will all be happy."

Adam smiled, pressing a kiss to Lucifer’s exposed shoulder. His emerald eyes caught sight of the yellow apple still lying just on the edge of their nest. It hadn't been touched or moved since they had shared a bite months ago.

Swallowing thickly, Adam felt an inexplicable worry gnawing at him. It was as if he had made a mistake, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. He tried to think more about it, but his beautiful and stunning mate quickly regained his attention.

Another laugh escaped Adam as he fell back onto their nest. Lucifer moved above him, his blue eyes shimmering with pure love and delight. The two were so madly in love with one another and their connection only grew stronger as time passed.

~#~

Adam hummed softly, his fingers gliding through Lucifer's wings with a reverent touch. His eyes were sharp, discerning the worn feathers with precision before gently removing them, allowing the new, vibrant ones to flourish. The feathers came out effortlessly, needing no force, as if they were whispering secrets as they fell. The human Omega knelt at Lucifer's right side, tending to the inner wing with meticulous care, while Lucifer focused on his left, bending it inward with a slow, deliberate motion.

Lucifer's six vast wings made the task arduous and time-consuming, a process that stretched over hours for both. Alone, it had taken Lucifer twice as long. Despite Lucifer's insistence that Adam wasn't obliged to help, the endearing human eagerly seized any opportunity to touch the angel's delicate wings. Adam found an unexpected joy in grooming Lucifer's feathers, an act that tethered him closer to the ethereal being.

A sudden giggle escaped Adam when Lucifer's upper right wing shifted, the tip of its feathers brushing against his neck with deliberate intent. Adam glanced at his mate, seeing Lucifer still absorbed in his task. Dismissing it as an accident, Adam returned to his work, only to squeal in surprise as the feathers trailed from his neck to the small of his back, leaving a tingling path.

Startled, Adam snapped his head around, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Lucifer. The angel met his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, a slight tilt of the head adding to the facade.

"Are you okay, Adam?" Lucifer asked, his voice honeyed and perhaps too sweet.

Adam hummed a response, nodding curtly. "Just peachy."

Lucifer's grin flashed, revealing pearly-white teeth before his blue eyes returned to the middle left wing in his hands. Adam continued to eye his lover suspiciously for a few moments before resuming his own task. But unlike before, when the top wing had merely brushed his neck and shoulder, Adam gasped sharply and jolted when a warm, wet tongue licked the back of his neck. A powerful shudder raced up his spine, making him sit up straight.

"Luci!" he squealed, his hand clamping over the scarring of his glands as he spun around, his face flushing hot.

"What~" Lucifer cooed, the picture of innocence. "I didn't do anything~"

"Sure you didn't." Adam pouted, his eyes gleaming with his own mischievous ideas. He shifted to get comfortable, fingers softly sliding across the feathers in his lap. His green eyes watched Lucifer from the corner of his vision, catching the archangel giggling to himself, his cheeks warming.

When Adam was certain Lucifer's attention was elsewhere, he twisted around and pressed a butterfly kiss against Lucifer's exposed mating glands. A startled yelp escaped Lucifer, his back arching as all six wings fluttered. His eyes widened as he clamped a hand over his neck, head snapping around to stare at Adam.

"What~" Adam echoed, shrugging innocently. "I'm not doing anything~"

"Oh really?" Lucifer teased, his voice a soft purr as he began to crawl forward with tantalising slowness. His delicate white wings arched elegantly, spreading over his back in a display of ethereal beauty. "You're not doing anything at all~"

Adam's face turned a brilliantly delicious shade of red. "Nope, nothing at all, and even if I did, you started it~"

"Ah! I started it, did I~" The Archangel's lips curved into a wide grin, revealing teeth as white as snowflakes. The sight made Adam's insides twist with delight. "If I started it, then I better finish it!"

A laughing squeal escaped Adam's throat as he fell backward. Lucifer pounced like a playful lion, even letting out a pretend roar. The two Omegas tumbled together in the nest, their giggles soon blossoming into full-blown laughter.

It was a perfect day. A day filled with love, joy, and the ever-deepening bond between two souls who grew closer with each passing second.

It was supposed to be a good day!

...until it wasn't...

A sparkling rock burst through the cascading purple blossoms of the wisteria, hitting the trunk of the beautiful tree before skittering across the ground. It rolled into their nest, coming to a stop right next to the two Omegas. They both tilted their heads, large eyes filled with confusion as they stared at the stone.

"A stone?" Adam asked, rolling onto his stomach and beginning to crawl towards it. He reached out a hand to touch the stone, but Lucifer practically climbed onto his back, pushing him away with protective urgency. His fluffy, feathered white wings folded over Adam like a shield.

Adam looked back with wide, apple-green eyes. "It's just a rock."

"You can never be too sure," Lucifer grunted, using the tip of his top right wing to brush against the stone.

When nothing happened, Adam flashed a smug grin. "See, it's just a stone! There's nothing dangerous or worrying about it! So let me pick it up~"

"No, nope." Lucifer flipped himself over Adam, hunching protectively above the rock. "You can never be too sure. It could be dangerous."

A snort escaped Adam, and he blushed when Lucifer gave him a stern look. Folding his arms under his head, he lay his chin on top of them, kicking his feet lightly in amusement. His emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, a warm smile playing on his lips.

"It's just a stone~" he sang again.

Lucifer's eyebrows twitched, and he shot Adam another look that sent his Omega giggling. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Lucifer wearily curled his fingers around the stone and finally picked it up. He rolled it over in the palm of his hand, gazing at its shiny, sparkly surface. His eyebrows rose as he studied it, realising it was one of the most beautiful stones he had ever seen.

Well, almost. It wasn't as beautiful as the stone Adam had found for him all those years ago, now lovingly woven into their nest. Lucifer often looked at that stone when he felt sad or lonely, finding solace in its presence when Adam wasn't around.

"It's..." Lucifer began, turning the stone over in his hand. It was pretty. Yes. Just pretty. It was nowhere near the beauty of the stones Adam had gifted him over the years. "Just a rock."

Adam released a laugh, perking up like a meerkat. "I told you! I win!"

"You win, huh?" the Archangel hummed, tightening his fingers around the rock and tilting his head towards Adam. His azure eyes sparkled with amusement as he turned towards him. "You win? And what do you win? What's your reward?"

"I get a reward?" Adam moved to his knees, meeting his mate halfway. His hand rose to cup Lucifer's cheek, and the Angel immediately leaned into the touch with a purr. Adam began to move closer, aiming for a loving kiss. Lucifer's eyes even began to close, expecting the kiss—only it never happened!

With a joyful cheer, Adam took the stone and pulled back, a smug smile on his lips as he looked at the bewildered Archangel. "I learned that from you~"

"Oh." Lucifer blinked in a daze. He glanced down at his empty hand and then back at Adam. "You learned it from me...that does seem like something I might have done."

"You did! You did it to me many times before!" Adam chirped, turning the stone over in his hand. "Don't you remember? It's how you always found out my secrets. I could never hide anything from you."

Lucifer felt a swell of pride for his adorable Omega using one of his tricks. He shrugged; his siblings didn't call him Eden's snake for nothing. Lucifer didn't care, really; he was just proud. So he crawled after Adam and playfully pushed himself into Adam's side, his head nuzzling into Adam's neck.

"It's just a rock," he grumbled. "Why are you so interested in it?"

"Because it came out of nowhere," Adam said, looking up at the trunk. He could see a small indent from the impact of the rock. "It was thrown at us. Who would throw it at our nest, Luci?"

Who would throw a rock at them? At their nest? Oh, it wasn’t a hard guess.

Lucifer's face darkened, his lips twisting into a harsh scowl. His eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. His wings shuddered, flaring out protectively on either side. Lucifer bit down on his bottom lip, tightening his arms around Adam as he stayed pressed against his Omega's side.

He sensed it this time and threw his right wing up, shoving Adam down just in time. The second rock flew over them and struck the trunk.

"Somebody who's going to regret it," he growled, baring his teeth as he twisted towards the direction the stones came from.

"Luci?" Adam poked his head out from behind the feathered wings. "Calm down, I'm sure they didn't mean any harm."

Adam crawled quickly after his mate, leaping onto Lucifer's back just as the Angel prepared to fly. A startled yelp escaped Lucifer as they both fell onto their stomachs. Hovering above the Angel, Adam moved a delicate hand to push the flowers aside, revealing the garden outside.

"Adam, why did you do that? It could be somebody dangerous outside!" Lucifer protested.

Squinting his eyes, Adam peeked out into the garden nervously. "It's only E-"

"The female Omega," the grumbling Angel interrupted. "I could smell her from here. It’s gross."

Blinking in curiosity, Adam cocked his head and glanced down at Lucifer. "Her name is Eve, and she smells bad?"

"Eve," Lucifer repeated with a scoff. "She smells like sour grapes. I hate grapes."

"Oh..." Adam licked his lips. He didn't know Lucifer disliked grapes. Adam made a mental note to avoid them in the future. "Well, she's outside. She must want to speak to us again."

"Why is she standing so far away?" Lucifer wondered suspiciously. His sharp eyes narrowed into slits.

With a grin, Adam kicked himself up and burst out of their nest. "She's respecting our boundaries! I told her she was too close last time!"

"Adam," Lucifer grunted, quickly following his Omega. "Wait, don’t get too close to her."

Eve waved as she noticed both of them. Her eyes sparkled with a star-like gleam as she saw Lucifer following Adam.

"Eve." Adam went to approach the other Omega, but Lucifer pulled him back. "What are you doing back here again?"

"I thought I told you not to come into our domain anymore," Lucifer huffed, settling himself next to Adam. The two immediately intertwined their hands, seeking comfort in each other. Eve's gaze dropped to their joined hands, eyes wide with wonder.

"I wanted to talk to you." Eve said. "You said I was too close to your nest last time."

"You're much too close to our nest and you throw rocks at us."

"How am I suppose to catch your attention when I want to talk to you?" Eve asked. "I'm not allowed to come close your nest. I thought this distance would do, does it not?"

Lucifer's lips twisted into a familiar sneer, ready to deliver the same cold reply, but Adam's hand tightened around his. Adam's glance, eyebrows raised in a silent plea of agreement, only deepened the Angel's scowl. Now Eve, the new intruder, had Adam's support. How exasperating. She might be another soul Lucifer would need to banish, just as he had with Lilith.

"If I stay ten feet away from your lair, will that suffice?" Eve's innocent smile only stoked Lucifer's irritation further.

"Yes—" Adam started eagerly.

"No," Lucifer growled, his tone dark and brooding. He practically sulked under the weight of Adam's imploring look that silently urged, 'please, be kind.' With a deep, reluctant sigh, Lucifer's shoulders slumped, and he shot Eve another withering glare. "Twenty feet."

"Alright, I can manage that!" she replied, her voice bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere.

"Also," Lucifer began, snatching the stone from Adam's other hand and holding it aloft. "Don't ever throw rocks at our nest again."

Eve caught the stone as he tossed it back, her hands clapping together around it. "Alright, sorry. I just didn't know how else to get your attention."

"Yeah, well, a simple 'hey!' would do," Lucifer muttered dryly.

Eve cocked her head, her amber eyes widening. "From over twenty feet away?"

"Then yell!" the angel snapped before settling himself once more as Adam squeezed his hand again. "What do you want? Why did you come out to us?"

A warm breeze whispered through the garden, tugging at the flowers, leaves, and grass. Eve's long red curls were caught in the wind, fluttering like a crimson banner. Her Omega scent mingled with the breeze, and Lucifer fought the urge to cover his nose. She smelled too much like Lilith. The strong Alpha scent intertwined with Eve's proved the two spent a lot of time together.

"It's about what Adam said last time," Eve spoke, and Lucifer soured at the realisation she knew his mate's name. "You spoke about...being free...and that made me...think."

Adam blinked in awe. "I made you think?"

"Hm." Eve nodded and lowered her head, her amber eyes falling to her hands as she bashfully twirled her fingers together. "You said...we're all free, nobody can own another. That we can't force somebody to be your mate."

Adam was such a sweetheart. Lucifer's love for him deepened even more as Adam gasped, his expression instantly morphing into one of worry.

"Yes, I remember. Are you alright?" he asked, concerned about lacing his voice. Adam's eyebrows furrowed as he instinctively scanned Eve's body for any sign of injury, bruise, or even a scrape. But there was nothing, save for countless freckles dotting her skin. "Is there something you want to ask?"

Eve seemed to flip a switch. She transformed from a sweet, shy, and slightly nervous Omega into an entirely different person. She straightened her short stature, her back rigid, and her hands dropped to her sides.

"What did you mean by free? How can we be free? What does it mean? Are we not free? What does it even mean to be free? Would it make a difference?" Eve's questions spilled out rapidly, one after the other. Both Lucifer and Adam stared at her, bewildered, as she rattled off a dozen more questions within minutes. Some of her queries didn’t even make sense, and soon Eve was simply babbling about freedom.

Lucifer glanced at his mate from the corner of his eye, ensuring Adam was still comfortable. His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of Adam's hand.

"To be free is... freedom," Lucifer said quietly, meeting Eve's eyes. "It's being able to do what you want, without being told what to do. To make your own decisions and choices, to do things for yourself, and not be..."

"Restricted?" Eve interjected.

Lucifer shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. In a way. Not having freedom means being restricted and bound by rules. Being told what to do. Being told when to stand, when to sit, when to eat, when to drink, when to sleep, shit, and piss. Being ordered to follow rules and restrictions, always feeling like there is more out there…"

"That's what Lilith said," Eve breathed out softly, her voice laced with awe. Her warm caramel eyes bored into Lucifer's. "Lilith always says that there's more beyond Eden. She believes we should crave more than just this paradise, that we deserve to live freely without the Angels constantly watching over us."

Adam averted his gaze, memories of Lilith's fervent speeches flooding back. She never welcomed his responses, always demanding his silence, expecting him to just listen. Even when he yearned to understand, her anger and moodiness silenced him. She saw him as nothing more than a verbal punching bag.

Adam hoped Lilith wasn't treating Eve the same way, but Eve was different, more vocal. Lucifer squeezed Adam's hand, sharing the same concern. He remembered the effort it took to coax words back out of Adam, to heal the mental wounds Lilith had inflicted.

"Lilith has always been headstrong," Lucifer spoke sternly. "It'll lead to trouble if she's not careful."

Eve's freckled face concealed a darker judgement as she stared at Lucifer. "I think Lilith is right. There's more out there. Why do the Angels discourage our questions? Are they hiding something? It doesn't add up."

"Then that's a conversation for the Angels," Lucifer bristled. "We don't want to be dragged into your issues."

Eve shook her head, crossing her arms tightly. "But you're already involved. Adam is free, isn't he? He doesn't have to follow the Angels' rules."

Lucifer inhaled deeply, meeting Adam's eyes. His sweet, loving mate smiled at him, reminding Lucifer of why he defied the heavens in the first place. He did it for freedom, so they could be together, unbound.

Lucifer had defied Michael for Adam.

"What do you want?" he asked, turning back to Eve. "You and Adam aren't the same. Adam is my mate, and I will do anything for him. So tell me, what do you want? You've been pestering us for a reason."

Eve's smile was almost gleeful. "I want what Adam has. I want freedom."

"What?" Adam frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "I-I don't think we can give you freedom. It's something you have to find on your own."

"You can," Eve insisted, stepping closer. "You said the apple changed things for you. It can do the same for me and Lilith. We deserve to be free and awakened too."

Lucifer's wings unfurled threateningly. He had suspected this all along. Eve's intentions were never about self-discovery; she wanted what Adam had. But Lucifer wouldn't jeopardize his precious bond for her or Lilith.

"Leave," he hissed. "You have no idea what you're asking."

"Why should you be free but not us?" Eve pressed, advancing. "I'm not asking for much. Just the apple. Give us the apple."

Adam's apple-green eyes widened in shock, his hair standing on end. Eve's voice had shifted, becoming cold and sharp, echoing Lilith's harsh tone. He shuddered, stepping back as his stomach churned.

Sensing Adam's fear, Lucifer shielded him with his wings, glaring at Eve. The eye on his chest glowed brightly as all six wings spread wide, adorned with small, watchful eyes. His halo shimmered brilliantly above his head.

"Eve, this is your final warning. Leave and don't return," he commanded, his voice echoing in an almost inhuman manner.

Eve's frown deepened. "Why won't you give me the apple? Why won't you share freedom with me and Lilith?"

"You're not ready for the apple of knowledge," Lucifer snapped. "Neither of you are. God will provide when the time is right, but now is not that time."

"Why are we not ready but Adam is? What makes him different?" Eve demanded, her calm facade betrayed by her darkened eyes. "We deserve to know the truth too."

Lucifer raised his hand, fingers splayed wide, his angelic power crackling around him like a living thing. Little balls of flame snapped and popped against his skin, and his eyes darkened almost to black as golden light flared around him, radiant as the sun.

"Lucifer!" Adam gasped, clutching his arm as the golden magic built into a furious storm in his palm. "Stop! You're going to hurt her!"

The Archangel of dreams, hopes, and creation seemed lost in a trance, his eyes unfocused and distant. The eyes imprinted on his wings burned brighter, nearly scorching through the feathers. The golden fire in his palm coiled around his fingers and wrist, crawling up his arm like a serpent. Adam winced as it bit at his fingertips, but he held on tighter.

"Eve! Please leave!" he yelled, the golden fire growing blindingly bright, forcing Adam to squint. "Run, Eve, run away!"

Eve spun around and fled, her red hair whipping behind her. Soon, she vanished from Adam's sight, consumed by the overwhelming light.

Adam twisted on his toes, pushing himself against Lucifer's chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his mate. "Luci," he called tenderly, "Luci, it's okay. She's gone now. Please calm down. Everything's okay."

The golden light continued to crackle around them. Lucifer's eyes, usually a serene blue, were now a tumultuous gold, staring at nothing. Adam reached up with a trembling hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on Lucifer's cheek.

"Lucifer, it's alright. Please calm down," Adam whispered, stretching up onto his tiptoes to press his lips to Lucifer's. "I'm not hurt. Eve doesn't have the apple. It's still safe in our nest. We're safe."

Adam kissed his mate once more, feeling the divine power that marked Lucifer as one of the most powerful Archangels. Adam loved him deeply, adored every part of him.

"Okay?" he whispered, pulling back to watch as Lucifer's eyes regained their familiar blue sparkle. Relief washed over Adam as he saw Lucifer returning to himself. His stiff wings began to sag, and he slumped against Adam, trembling.

"I'm so sorry, Adam. I'm sorry," he whimpered, tears spilling from his eyes. "I just want you to be safe. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Caressing the back of Lucifer's head, Adam ran his fingers through the golden curls. "Nothing will happen to me. We're both fine."

"She can't have the apple, Adam. Neither of them can," Lucifer said, hugging him tighter. "It's not the same. They're not the same. It's different. We won't be forgiven by Heaven if we give them the apple. We won't be allowed to just be together if we defy those rules. It's dangerous for us."

Adam pressed soft kisses along Lucifer's shoulder and neck. "Then we won't give Eve or Lilith the Apple of Knowledge."

To ensure their future. Their happiness.

#fanfic #au #hazbin hotel #adamsapple #fanficiton #lucifer x adam #guitarduck #omega x omega #omegaverse #omega lucifer #omega adam #omega eve

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crazylittlejester · 3 months

Note

Here's the little snippet as promised- I got a little carried away lol

By the time they'd managed to track down their missing brother, the chain was more like a frayed string. When Warriors had gone missing after a fight, it was like a constant blood moon; with no professional medic, they could only hope fairies and Time's uncanny ability to find them would fix the worst wounds. With no teasing yet caring and painfully observant eyes watching out for everyone, communication dwindled into whispers, banter into hurling insults. But most importantly, they'd all lost their collective big brother. And nobody was taking it well. Time's dark circles had only grown darker over the month that his brother was missing. He became overbearingly protective over the rest of the chain, though it manifested in him becoming snappy and strict. He refused to talk otherwise, unless it was to discuss theories of the Captain's disappearance. Well... and to soothe the nightmares that plagued Wind at night. But now? Now daybreak is drawing closer and the blood moon is nearing its end, for Sky had managed to track Warriors with Fi's dowsing abilities after a month of failure and dead ends. Dead ends that took the form of cryptic puzzles whose answers revealed nonsense that made Time grow pale and sickly. They were secrets of their missing brother being taunted by the malice, perhaps in an attempt to corrupt their view of him? It didn't work. In fact, it just strengthened their resolve to beat up the stupid lizalfos and rescue him. Their wanderings brought them to an abandoned bunker in the middle of nowhere. Sky was panting with exertion, doubled over by the time it appeared in their sights. Wind wound up giving Four a piggyback after the latter had been sent flying by a hidden bomb, since he wouldn't play such a vital role in the potential fight. They'd need Twilight for heavy hitting, powerful attacks while Time got him out, Hyrule for his healing and magical expertise, Legend for his swift reaction time and quick thinking, Sky for the holy magic his blade gleamed with, and Wild for his archery skill and unpredictable attacks. Though, Wind had to wonder, did they think he was too young to face what might've happened to his brother? He huffed, tightening his grip on Four's thighs as he propped the dazed hero up on his back. He was a hero, just like them! He could help. But... Four also needed help. And he wasn't important enough... no, no, scratch that. Wars wouldn't want him thinking like that! He needs to be happy for when his brother returns to them. And he will return, Wind knows it. When he looks over, the rest of the chain are sipping water from their waterskins, restless hands checking over weapons one final time. Their shoulders are tense with the weight of a brother's life. Time was ready to fucking murder that shadow. Though nobody could have prepared them for the sight that met their eyes. (Tw: graphic injury description, implied torture) Warriors, their collective big brother, the comforting presence beside the fire after a nightmare, was bloodied and shirtless. His body hung limp from shackles secured to the top of a cage, cuffs crusted with blood that had dried running down his arms. Whip marks marred his back, cutting deep through innumerable scars of similar shape and where his flesh had melted in a fight against a dragon. Black bruises painted his front in a cacophony of agony. His face was almost unrecognisable; gaunt yet swollen and horribly disfigured with flaky dried blood and open, seeping wounds. His eyelids hung nearly closed, though any light in his eyes was gone. His lips, cracked and vaguely swollen, appeared grey in colour. His ribs appeared visibly broken beneath purple skin drawn tight. Every bone in his upper body was visibly protruding. They could see every. Single. Bone. Despite it all, no futher life was in the musty stone coffin. "Oh, Link..." Time whispered, and blue eyes suddenly flickered open.

Anyways, I hope you like this :) it isn't that good but still, Wars whump

- sadistic anon

my god, the devil works hard but you my friend work harder. IT’S BARELY BEEN AN HOUR HOW DID YOU WRITE THAT THAT FAST??

OUGH. oUGH. WHAT THE FUCK MAN. OW??? HIT ME WITH A BRICK NEXT TIME IT’LL HURT LESS

i seriously liked your descriptions of how losing wars impacted the others. printing this out and eating it

also i will be spawning at your location because oh my god you beat the fuckin shit outta him whatd he ever do to you, go give him a hug and atone for your sins /j :(

you cooked tho. but god DAMN. OW.

#jes talks #jes ask #lu warriors #lu wars

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rdr2stories · 6 months

Text

"Those beautiful features." Jovier fanfiction.

A short fanfiction about Javier admiring John's features as they sit around the fire in camp.

Javier’s soft voice was carried out of the camp and into the cool night by the breeze coming in from the lake surrounding Clemens Point. It sent a shiver down his spine, but the fire kept him warm enough to stay, that and the sight of the man on the other side of the fire draped in the poncho he had offered him a few hours prior, the man who kept his heavy eyelids from falling in, the man who often accompanied him when the rest of the gang had fallen asleep.

Over the guitar, Javier glanced at the beautiful man on the other side of the flames. He was singing of those features in the language of his home, the language that at camp was his, in a language, he could speak secrets in and they would remain his. He could sing about his love freely in a way he never could at home.

The man’s dark brown eyes were slid half closed, he was at the edge of drifting off, finally relaxing after a tense day, a tense life, a life where his guard was up by default. His stubble beard was growing long, enough that Miss Grimshaw had complained that he looked like a caveman as if the healing, still swollen scars didn’t do a good enough job at that. They were the most beautiful features Javier had ever seen, he wanted to remember them forever.

He had never been much of a poet, he could never make words sound beautiful, but he could make songs sound beautiful, though not anywhere enough to do the silly grin or rough laugh justice. No one knew what the song was about, they didn’t know he sang about the long beautiful hair or sharp yet soft jawline, and he was grateful for that because no one could know how much he wished he could have the man he knew he could never have.

“I think I will call it a night,” Charles said as he stood from the place he had sat next to Javier who had at the same time completely forgotten that he had been there yet been painfully aware of him.

Javier gave Charles a small nod as he left the singing man and his muse to themselves. He continued to sing, every now and then glancing up at John who sat slumped up against the wooden box that Arthur had sat on earlier that night when it hadn’t just been the two but the whole camp around the fire. He had finally fallen asleep, a rare sight but one that Javier found was recurring more and more frequently around him. It made his heart flutter knowing that the man who was already on guard, ready to jump, trusted him enough to relax around him.

He would rather give his life than break that trust.

Javier leaned his guitar against the side of the chair he sat on, taking a moment to admire the man in the light of the fire and the silence of the night where he lay vulnerable and bare. How strange he looked, like a small scared boy trapped in the body of a man with too much on his shoulders. A man whose childhood had gone too fast, a man who deserved better. Underneath those scars was a mere boy wearing the face of a man to protect himself.

Getting to his feet, Javier couldn’t help but smile to himself. He made his way around the fire to the sleeping man, quietly sitting down next to him. John trusted him enough to keep him safe and so he would, becoming a shield that the grown boy could behind from the world behind.

By the time the fire was dwelling out, Javier still sat by John’s side, enjoying the moment of silence and peace in his hectic life. He was watching the stars, imagining what it would be like to be up there amongst them, looking down at the world, providing beauty for all to see. He didn’t even notice John stirring awake ever so softly and laying his head on the shoulder of the man beside him.

Javier stiffened and looked down at John with wide eyes, terrified that his heart might jump right out of his chest and bare his feelings right then and there.

“Thank you” John spoke lowly, avoiding to look up at Javier’s eyes as his own cheeks went red.

“Of course, compadre,” Javier replied, his heart aching in his chest at the sudden affection that he knew would only be momentary, a choice made by a sleep-deprived John who wasn’t fully thinking straight, but no matter how much it hurt Javier would never turn it down. No matter how much it hurt, he would never refuse it.

John’s breathing quickened in the silent night before he looked up at Javier, his eyes wide and frantic, terrified yet pleading, asking for something that Javier couldn’t figure out as he readjusted himself, worry taking over his body as he took in John’s panicked face. “What is it-?”

Before Javier could get to finish the sentence John’s lips were on his, gentle as if he was scared his rough and cracked mouth would break the other man.

Javier could feel the stubbled beard scratching against his chin and cheek, caressing him and pulling his fluttering heart back into his body, back into the moment. His hand went to John’s cheek, his thumb tracing over the healing scars, gently letting his skin memorize the feeling of his. Whether this be a decision made in foolishness or one of truth, he would enjoy it like it was the last because he knew that it might be.

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 community #rdr2 #rdr2 javier #rdr john #rdr2 john #john marston #javier escuella #red dead redemption 2 #read dead redemption #jovier

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amethysts-tavern · 11 months

Text

Travel day. Too many hours sitting still so, I wrote.

Gale x gn-bard!Tav.

Warnings: serious injury and potential death.

______

Our story isn’t over.

Since starting your relationship, your battle strategy has been to place yourself not far from Gale. In fact, you’re usually fighting side by side, never more than a healing word from the other.

You’d taken down a number of minions already today, but still, the battle for the Shadowlands raged on. You cast a high level dissonant whisper at Ketheric Thorm, transformed now into the massive Apostle of Myrkul, when out of the corner of your eye you see a spell hit your companion, your love, square in the chest, dark magic exploding around him, enveloping his body in a green-black haze. You hear him scream in anguish and breathlessly call out to you just before he falls, his expression a mixture of shock and pain. For a brief moment, your world caves in on you. Your eyes, wide with panic, fixate on Gale’s now lifeless body.

You feel the electricity of magic whiz past your head and you turn to see where it came from. “I got him; you get Gale,” Karlach says rushing past you. She has bought you some time. Just a few seconds is all you need.

You turn to run toward your beloved, heart racing faster than it has in recent memory. He’ll be okay. I just have to get to him. He’ll be okay. You’re not sure if you’re trying to convince yourself or praying to any god who will listen.

One then the other, your feet pound the flagstones, propelling you forward, sweat and tears stinging your eyes as you sprint. Oh gods, this looks bad. It’s far worse than you expected: his face swollen; dark bruises forming on his skin; blood soaking his robes. Your breathing becomes ragged as fear rises within you and you fall at his side.

“Gale, I’m here. You’re going to be ok. I’m here,” you say, reaching for his hand. His eyelids flutter at the sound of your voice, too weak to open them. His hand is cold and clammy in yours, even though sweat wets his hair, strands clinging to his face. Blood pools underneath him, making the ground slick and red.

One hand still in his, you reach into your bag and wrap your fingers around a scroll of parchment. Gods, let this be the right one. There’s no time for errors now. You unfurl the parchment and sigh in relief. Looking around for a safe space to land, you begin reading the spell for dimension door. Just as your tongue wraps around the last few words of the spell, another blast of magic erupts to your left, about 15 feet away, blowing rock debris at you and Gale.

You cover his body with yours, as the world blurs and blinks around you. Suddenly, you and Gale are out of the fray, hopefully for long enough for you can tend to his wounds and get him back on his feet. You reposition yourself so that your back is to the battle, shielding any more incoming assaults from hitting the wizard who holds your heart.

You reach out to the Weave, trying to grasp any strands of healing magic you can. The flow is slow to trickle in, your allotment tapped for the day. This isn’t going to be enough. He needs more healing.

Once again, your free hand reaches into your bag, fingers searching for a healing potion. Anything that will help knit Gale’s body back together. Your heart beats relentlessly as your fingertips graze potion bottle after potion bottle, not finding what you need, what he needs.

“Hang in there love, I know it’s in here,” you say, your voice cracking. “We’re going to get through this. You’re not getting out of that promised dinner date in Waterdeep this easily,” you tease, an on going joke between you two.

Finally your fingers find purchase on the bottle you need. Please let this be enough. Please let him be okay. Let him be safe. Please. You gently curl your fingers under Gale’s neck. Any other moment in time, this movement, this touch, would have led to a tender kiss. Now, you smudge your thumb over his lips, nudging them open so you can pour the red liquid into him.

Seconds then moments pass. This is taking too long. Why is this taking so long? Your panic crescendos as your eyes study his features, burning them into your mind. Seeing him like this, so battered and weak, puts an ache in your chest far worse than any battle wound ever could. The tears that had been falling intermittently now become a torrent as you openly sob over your wizard love. This can’t be it. Not like this. Our story isn’t over.

The scene behind you becomes quiet, the silence deafening. The battle is over, the enemy slain at last. Karlach approaches behind you, closely followed by Astarion, both worse for wear, bloodied and bruised but still upright. It looks like it had been a brutal fight. Without words, both comb through their packs for any remaining healing potions or scrolls they can contribute. It takes two more superior healing potions before you feel Gale’s grip tighten around your fingers and his breathing become deeper.

“Gale!” you exhale. You hadn’t even noticed that you were holding your breath. “Gods! I…” but words are lost as you witness his eyes slowly open and a weak smile curl his lips. He chuckles then whimpers, his breath expanding his bruised ribs uncomfortably. “Don’t you think that you’ll get out of meeting Mother that easily either, my love.”

You bend over the wizard, gingerly scooping him up and wrapping your arms around him. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your body relaxes as you hold your love. You’re unsure what tomorrow may bring, but today, for now, you are both safe.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #bg3 gale #gale x reader

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justallihere · 5 months

Note

im joining the train of being physically ill and your fic giving me the motivation to continue with life (allergies and contact dermatitis are kicking my ass. my eyelids are swollen)

I love how soft these two were for each other in this chapter.

XADEN IS WHIPPED. I feel like if he could live in/under Violet's skin he would 💀

exhibit a

“I can kill him for you,” he offered.

exhibit b

“No, I don’t want you to move,” Xaden grumbled

exhibit c

“I’ll do whatever you want, my darling wife.”

exhibit d

he was sure his heart stopped beating in his chest for a moment before it resumed its rhythm again.

exhibit e

Something warm bloomed in his chest at the sight of the ring on his finger, a physical representation of the two of them twined together, from now until they entered whatever life or world followed this one.

Xaden made Vi blush SO MUCH this chapter and I'm eating it up!!!!!

This line was so funny 😭😭😭. Xaden is such a tease

“Yes, your majesty?” She scowled

Not me my heart breaking for younger Xaden. I hope Vi gives him enough hugs to heal his inner child

Being a dragon rider was one of the only things he had ever chosen for himself, even if, technically, he wasn’t supposed to have it.

SOMEONE HUG GARRICK PLS. The guilt he probably feels, my poor baby 😭😭

“Can I not be worried about her?” Garrick asked sharply. “She is my queen, Xaden. She isn’t just your wife, she isn’t just Violet. Not anymore. She’s important to all of us, and I have a duty to her. You’re not the only one who failed to keep her safe.”

EXCUSE ME??? ARE THEY FLIRTING? YOURE HONOR I THINK THEYRE FLIRTING. The second i read that he wanted to take her somewhere outside, I KNEW IT WAS HIS FAVORITE HILLTOP!!!! This moment was so special/monumental for them 😭. Xaden has come so far, from not wanting to share this sacred space/wanting to hate her on principle, to loving Violet and willing to do anything to make her happy (Again, mans is WHIPPED)

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Mrs. Riorson?” Xaden asked in a low voice. She shivered. “Maybe.”

HIS RING??? HIS RING????? Of course, Vi noticed how obsessed X is with her hair. nothing gets past her

Xaden's unwavering faith in Vi is so 👌 I dont have words to describe what it is but its top tier husband energy

The fact that Violet reads smut confirms that she's just one of the girls AND Xaden picking the book up to read it ??? Book boyfriend material (Even though he's already her husband)

Questions:

When will Brennan get his head out of the sand and make up his siblings? Stick Xaden on him because B is making Vi and Mira sad!!!!

when was the last time Xaden got drunk/felt comfortable enough to do that?

was the story about malek and his consort's homage to Hades/Persephone but also a reflection of Vi/X's relationship?

She was Amari’s youngest, her most beautiful and most treasured child --- is this foreshadowing to how Lilith views Vi? bc if so... I'm sobbing in a corner

Omg feel better!! Stop being sick!! Why are you all sick!! (normally I’m the one who’s sick all the time 😂)

Waterparks has like dozens of obsessive love songs that I could quote but there’s a line in “I felt younger when we met” (ironically a break up song lol) that says “you moved in behind my eyes and built yourself a shrine” that I think about a lot in terms of how Xaden feels about Violet. Just like, a part of her lives with him permanently now and he can’t and doesn’t want to get rid of it and she’s all he knows and he’s wholly devoted to her

I’m LIVING for the fact that you came with evidence about how whipped he is lmao

They are in fact flirting, can confirm!

To answer your questions: Yes, Brennan will get his act together. The last time Xaden got drunk was, uh. . . so many moons ago I do not have an exact time, but years. And yes! It was a way to say that not only do people see their relationship differently depending on what they’re looking for, but Xaden views himself so differently from the way Violet sees him.

And yeah to that last one as well. I mean she loves all her kids beyond reason, but there’s something in the way she views Violet that’s so special to me

#storm in the quiet

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cowboydisaster · 2 years

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part IV: colter

originally posted on 8 march 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 14k

summary: you and the others ascend into the mountains with the law hot on your tails. A nasty storm picks up, making matters worse for everyone. You're bed ridden and ill, trying to heal both your physical ailments and your mental ones.

a/n: this chapter is huge, and important! Firstly you all voted and decided that reader should have a nickname given by Arthur that all the gang members call her, and that comes up in this chapter. Plus we get some really good fluff between reader and Arthur. Thank you to margowritesthings for always rising up to the massive chapters I've been throwing at her.

warning: wounds, gore, mentions of past trauma and post traumatic stress

SERIES MASTERPOST

The wind whips through the air, chilling everyone to the point of numbness as you all ascend the mountains in hope of some form of sanctuary. John and Micah are still out scouting ahead, and Arthur’s now been sent out too, in search of a place to hole up. Everyone is hungry, frozen and afraid. Who knows how close the rest of the Pinkertons are, or if they were bold enough to follow you up into this hellstorm. You have no idea how many days you’ve been traveling, two or three? To be fair, it's been hard to keep track in your state.

Your back is resting against the wooden slats of the wagon, curled up to fend from the whipping blizzard. The canvas on the conestoga-style wagon provides little defense from the storm. With everything going on, the girls are huddled around you, keeping you covered in blankets while fighting your protests. Your skin is icy to the touch, but youre so hot. Cold sweat runs down your forehead, covering you in a sheen. Your eyes are red and sunken in as you shiver and groan. The sewn up shot in your thigh is swollen, red and oozing. It's infected, and if Grimshaw doesn’t get you some help soon… Well, you’ll be on the pile with Jenny and Davey.

You peel a blanket off of yourself, groaning, mind foggy from your body fighting to stop the infection. You’re so hot, it's torturous. Immediately, Tilly covers you back up with the blanket.

“Please- I'm so hot.” You moan, whimpering at the throbbing pain that is shooting down your entire left leg.

“I know, I do, but if you take this off you’ll freeze to death.” Tilly argues, and you know she’s right.

The wind is loud, but even through it you can hear Dutch yelling. He’s driving the wagon with Hosea, and both are praying for some shelter.

“Arthur! Any luck?” Dutch hollers over the wind, and you perk up at the familiar name. All the girls, wrapped in blankets and coats, huddling around Jack and you, glance in the direction of Dutch.

“I found a place where we can get some shelter. An old mining town, abandoned. It ain’t far. c’mon!” Arthur yells back before spurring Taima in the direction of your sanctuary. Everyone in the caravan lets out a breath, relieved at any kind of hope.

The wagon continues on while you fade in and out of consciousness, the fever too much for your body to handle at times. The closer you all creep towards the mining town, the more Grimshaw’s anxiety grows. She doesn’t know if you’re gonna make it much further, but by god she won’t let anything happen to you. They’ve lost too much. The wagon comes to a stop, and you blink your eyes open, watching as everyone files out of the wagon.

“Miss?”

It’s Dutch, he’s come around to the back of the wagon, extending a hand out to help the women and Jack get into a building. Despite your best efforts, you can’t bring yourself to move. Your muscles strain, but the pile of blankets is too heavy and you’re too weak.

“I can’t-” You whisper, pissed off that you’re incapable of handling your own at the minute. Asking for help isn’t exactly your specialty, but the cold sweat running down your forehead combined with your heavy, flushed and swollen eyelids prove enough that you’re unwell.

Dutch places his hand on the floor of the wagon, pushing himself up into the back. He peels the blankets away from you to find your once white shirt from however many days ago drenched in sweat and dried blood. You’re practically gasping for breath, panting in the frozen air, it doesn’t appear that you’re winning the battle against your body.

“Oh, miss… Here, let’s get you down.” Dutch whispers before taking your arms and helping you to climb down. It hurts like hell, climbing out of the wagon. Every muscle in your body twitches and aches, and the wound in your thigh throbs and oozes, it’s awful. Eventually, with Dutch’s help, you manage to stand in the calf-deep snow. He supports all of your weight, which you’re begrudgingly thankful for. Truthfully, he’s the last person you want help from right now, but without it, you’d be dead in the snow already. Slowly, you both shuffle through the damp, icy snow, trying to ignore the way it soaks your pants and freezes onto your eyelashes. You can see, foggily, the lantern lights of other gang members that are filing into a large, abandoned wooden building. You whimper at the idea of shelter, shuddering and tripping as the frozen air wars with your fever.

“Almost there..” Dutch whispers to you before yelling towards the building, “Miss Grimshaw, Mister Pearson! We need help!”

Dutch’s arm is tight around your waist, and the other holds a lantern in the air as he guides you through the door of the building. You’re struggling to stay awake, vision blurring as Dutch guides you to an old, makeshift cot off the main room. The warmth is immediate. There's no fire in the keeper yet, but the protection from the wind alone is noticeable. You’re not sure if you should be thankful for the shelter, or upset that the warmth worsens your fever. A few people rush over, standing around you as he lays you down.

“I am not losing anyone else! You get her patched up. I don't care what it takes!” Dutch hollers, pointing to you for emphasis as he glances at the miserable, frozen faces around the room.

You hear the slip of a knife, the shred of denim as Susan cuts away the patch of denim from your thigh to get a better view. She makes a noise of distaste, one that worries you. The skin around your stitches is red, and hot to the touch, with pus leaking from the suture holes. You arch your back against the wooden cot, gritting your teeth and groaning as she prods at your leg.

“We’re gonna have to redo these, I'm afraid, and you need dressings for this once I'm done. Abigail! Bandages!” Grimshaw orders around. You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“Am I- You think I’m gonna be alright, or…?” Your voice is barely audible, like a breath on the wind. You’re not ready to die, not before you’ve even lived.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” Grimshaw says with a tight lipped smile, grabbing Strauss’ medical kit once again. She’s lying, both for her sake and your own. She has no idea if you’ll pull through this. Infections are bad, and in these conditions, with no supplies? Well, your chances aren’t good. Jack is quietly crying in the corner, wrapped up in his momma’s arms, and next to his cries you hear large boots thumping against the wood, someone has entered the building. The footfalls grow quicker, rushing into a light jog approaching you. You force your eyelids to part, providing a thin view.

“Shit, Grimshaw? What’s going on?! She okay?!” Arthur growls, skidding to his knees at your bedside to help. He’s covered in snow, cheeks bright pink from wind whip, and his black hat is covered in a thick white dusting of ice. He’s suddenly more awake than he’s been for the last three or so days, and despite his lack of sleep, there is nothing but clarity and fear on his face when he sees the state you’re in. You look so small on the bed, so frail.

“I’m fine, Arthur.” You whisper, hand snaking down the mattress to rest on top of Arthur’s. Your lie doesn’t faze him at all, and he runs his eyes down your hip and thigh to where Grimshaw is cutting open your stitches, squeezing your hand as he does. Your nose wrinkles at the pressure and pull of Grimmshaw’s hands on your thigh.

“Mr. Morgan, she needs medicine and she needs it now. Got a bad infection. I’m afraid she can’t wait much longer.” Grimshaw states, looking up to your pale, sickly face. Arthur rests the back of his hand against your forehead, and you grimace, head pounding from everything that's going on.

“You’re burnin’ up real bad,” Arthur’s stomach turns with anxiety as he glances between your eyes and Grimshaw’s hands, “I’ll find some medicine. I will.” He growls, as if making himself a promise.

You know he may not be able to keep it. It took days to find this place, and he won’t make it far in the storm. John and Micah haven’t returned yet, and the chances of him finding medicine is low. If he leaves now, he might as well sign his death certificate along with yours.

“No- please don’t go out there, Arthur. The storms too bad.” You protest, hanging onto Arthur’s hand with every bit of strength you have in you, little as it may be. Arthur squeezes your hand, kneeling down to look into your eyes.

“I'm not just gonna sit around and watch you die. I'm goin’ to find you medicine.” There’s no room for debate in Arthur’s eyes. Begrudgingly, you nod your head, terrified that your illness is going to get more people killed. Once you nod, he leaves go of your hand. You wince, gripping the corner of the cot till your knuckles turn white as Grimshaw pulls the ruined sutures out of your infected thigh.

“I’m going too. Anywhere that has medicine could have food or supplies too. And maybe we’ll run into John or Micah on the road. Who knows where they are in this storm, I just hope they’re okay.” Dutch says, cracking his knuckles through his thick black gloves as he steps over to you.

You don’t try to protest as they head out the door, and you're thankful for Grimshaw’s stitching, as the pain keeps your mind off the fact that four of the gang members are out in the storm of the century, two are buried outside, and two are missing.

—

You drift in and out of sleep, eyes fluttering open and closed as the girls take shifts holding cool rags over your forehead, helping you sip cool water and changing your bandages. You have no idea how long you’re out, but at some point you wake up, once again surrounded by the frozen wind.

“W-what?” You whimper, eyelashes fluttering in the snow as you attempt to come to your senses, despite the pain that radiates through your entire body, and the fog that clouds your mind. There's a solid strength under your knees and your neck that you can't place. But it's warm, soft and strong. The chilly wind feels ethereal, and you want to cover yourself in its blissful coolness that soothes the fire blazing through your body.

“Takin’ you to your cabin. Miss Grimshaw got it fixed up. There's a real bed in there, it’s warmer, be better for you to heal.” A familiar, gruff, voice says. Despite the freezing, howling wind, there is a warmth against your side, radiating and wrapping around you. You want to push away from the heat, already too hot from your fever, but as you weakly pull away it only wraps around you tighter. You're too weak to fully protest, fighting to stay awake as your head becomes light and your senses begin to slip away to darkness again. You succumb to the blackness, and the howling, screaming wind grows further away as you lose yourself to sleep once again.

—

A cold, red hand shakes your shoulder lightly, rousing you a little as you groan.

"Hey… hey can you sit up a little for me? It's Arthur."

You squint, eyes fluttering open once again. Your surroundings are unfamiliar, a wooden cabin similar to the one you were in previously, but this one is smaller, cozier. You're laying in a real bed now, a decent sized one, with a thick pillow under your head and a heap of faded serape blankets pulled up over your shoulders.

"Mmmm.." You moan, wincing as your head pounds and your skin boils with a heat that you can't seem to shake. Your hair is soaked through with sweat, and your clothes cling uncomfortably around your body in their wet state. The hand on your shoulder shakes you a little harder now, coaxing you to sit up.

"I- I don't feel good, Arthur." You whimper, feeling unusually weak and vulnerable, but knowing you're not strong enough to do anything about it, "God, everything hurts and I'm so hot." You whisper, tears forming in your eyes at the unbridled misery that you're feeling. Every bone in your body aches, your muscles twitch and cramp from both a lack of food and the infection and it's miserable.

"I know… I know, here. I'll make it better, I'll make it go away, just please- sit up for me, alright?" Arthur pleads with you.

You nod, doing your best to sit up, wincing at the pain it sends through your body. Arthur helps you, placing his hand on your back to help you adjust as you lean up a little and rest your head against the old cracked headboard.

"Good girl… real good. Here." You finally manage to open your eyes and see Arthur holding a little metal cup up to your lips. It's the one that he keeps in his satchel for coffee, but the smell that's arising from the little silver cup is god awful. You're too weak to fight Arthur's cold hand as he presses the metal cup to your lips, tilting it so that the majority of the liquid slides down your throat. You cough lightly, as some of the medicine travels down the wrong pipe, and Arthur uses his thumb to wipe away the tonic that has dribbled down your chin. After a few coughs, and a whimper of misery, the tonic is all down.

"You got me medicine…" You mumble, partially a question and partially a statement. You glance up to Arthur with red, bloodshot eyes and see the worry that lines his face.

"Course I did. I told you I would." Arthur whispers back, placing the metal cup onto the dusty wooden floor. He's kneeling on the hard floor, knees digging uncomfortably into the wood. There's no chairs in the room, but he's not leaving you here alone.

"Scooch over, I'm comin in. Floors tearin' up these old knees." Arthur chuckles, helping you adjust closer to the wall under the heavy mass of blankets. After he's situated you, leaving just enough space for him to squeeze in, he sits down on the bed. He doesn't bother to kick his boots off, resting his feet up on the lower side of the mattress.

"There." He whispers, looking after you with concern, although he's less worried now that you've managed to drink down some tonic.

Your eyes have slipped closed once again, but you aren't sleeping, just resting as your fever has you by the neck. Arthur's body is solid beside you, gentlemanly of course. He brings his black hat down over his eyes in hopes of getting some sleep.

It only takes a few seconds for you both to succumb to sleep. For Arthur, it's the first he's gotten in days. And for you? All you've done is sleep. You'd be irritated with yourself if you weren't too sick to care. Quiet snores and slow breaths pass through the room as the two of you catch up on sleep and heal beside another.

Many things begin to change tonight, shifting the course as they do. The snow turns from a heavy downpour of ice, carried by the raging wind, to a slow sprinkling of fat, light snowflakes. They land on the roof, melting together and dripping chilly water down through the cracks until they splash against the wooden floor just feet away from you and Arthur. The snow and ice outside begins to melt away, just a bit, but it's an improvement from the blizzard.

Your fever breaks, and the red hot blaze that was dragging you closer to the brink of death with its fiery grasps turns to an even, cool temperature. The tonic spreads through your veins, starting the process of mending your leg back together. There will be a scar, a constant reminder of what happened here, but gone will be the pain. As the fever breaks, your sleeping body becomes more aware of the cold, subconsciously wrapping the blankets tighter around your small frame, begging the inanimate comforter to provide you with warmth that it doesn't hold.

And the last change; the one between you and Arthur. Something settles between you two, like two magnets feeling the first waves of force pulling them together. There's something there. There's hope with Arthur, there's friendship and compassion, companionship, and something more, you both just have to find it.

Your eyes flicker back and forth beneath their lids as you sleep, mind lost on a world of stars and flowers. The smell of fresh lilies and wildflowers surround you as you laugh, biting into fresh strawberries under the moon in a field of tall grass. The stars shine so brightly that you're sure they could fall out of the sky and land in your lap. The night is young, the world is beautiful. It's familiar, it's safe and it's good.

…and then you wake up.

Gone are the lillies, the warm night and the breeze. They are replaced by a cold cabin, by a chilly wind that howls outside and water that drips down from the ceiling. You roll onto your back, looking up to see Arthur still beside you. His hat is still resting over his eyes and nose, protecting him from any distractions that may prevent sleep. Your eyes linger on him for just a moment longer, taking note of the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his broad shoulders, and his beard that has grown a bit since you've fled Blackwater. You sigh, feeling the residual ache in your thigh. Reaching down, you lift the blankets to peek at the wound. You peel back your bandage some, wincing as you assess the damage.

The red ring around it has gone away, and Grimshaw did a nice job on her stitch work. It no longer oozes, but it's still a messy wound. You sigh out of frustration, fixing the bandage and pulling the blankets back over yourself. With the fever now gone, you've gone from one extreme to the other, shifting from an unbearable heat to a terrible chill, and you can't shake it. After a few moments of your teeth chattering, the solid mass of a man beside you begins to stir.

"You alright over there?" Arthur asks, ever the light sleeper. His voice is deep and gravelly from sleep as he takes his hat off of his eyes and places it onto the floor below. He notices your teeth clacking together, and the light shake of your shoulders as you curl into yourself under the blankets.

"Y-yeah, fevers c-comin' down is all." You stutter, trying to restrain your jaw from shaking in the cold night.

Arthur leans in towards you to press the back of his hand over your forehead. His hand is so warm, and you lean into his touch, chasing after the heat that never seems to leave his body. He assesses that your fever is gone, and his worry shifts from you dying of infection to you dying of hypothermia. Your skin is like ice as you shiver and writhe under the blankets, searching for any kind of warmth you can grasp onto.

"Shit, you're freezin'. C'mere."

Arthur snakes his hands under the blankets, pulling you into the crook of his side so that you're partially laying against him, and partially on top of him. Immediately, his body heat wraps around you, as his hands run up and down your arms to create warmth. You shudder, leaning into him as much as possible to chase after the ever giving fountain of warmth that he gives off.

"If I'm makin' you uncomfortable, just say the word and I'll move. Just don't want you freezin' is all." Arthur whispers. He tells himself that this is solely to warm you up, that he would do this for any of the girls. But as much as he tries to convince himself, he knows it's a lie. The feeling of your small, cold hands gripping onto his shirt is one he never wants to forget. Having you so close, he knows he'll likely never get this chance again and he wants to soak up every moment.

"No- no, this is nice." You whisper against him, truthfully. He pulls the blankets over you both, and you're surrounded by his scent under the confines of the blanket. You focus on keeping warm, on getting better, trying not to think about being pressed this close to Arthur. Already you can feel his body defrosting your own, melting away the ice that resides in your fingertips and the chill that shivers up your spine.

You want to distract yourself, to get away from this vulnerable feeling because it's dangerous. You think about what happened with Lenny and Jenny, what happened to the good people who let their guards down and what they lost. You won't allow yourself this, and as soon as you're warm enough, you plan to move back to your side of the bed. He's only in here because there's not enough space in the other cabins anyways, you lie to yourself.

Desperate for a distraction, you think of a topic to bring up. Arthur's hand running up and down your back is far too consuming and you have to find something else to focus on.

"What happened while you were off lookin' for medicine anyway? You were gone a long while." You whisper against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart beating against your ear. It's beating a bit quick, and you try not to think about why that is.

"Well we ran into Micah. He got separated from John and we still haven't found him…" Arthur pauses for a moment, concern tracing his words although he would never admit to worrying over his bastard little brother, "We found a big farm up north from here. Seemed like a good place to look but it was overrun with O'driscolls. They started threatenin' us so we took em out and-"

You interject Arthur with a furrow in your brows, confused by the mention of a name you haven't heard before.

"O'driscolls?" You ask, thinking back and deducting that you've not heard of these folks before.

"Guess you ain't been with us long enough to run into them yet -well we've been out further west than them for a while too- They're another gang, big bunch of cruel bastards run by Colm O'driscoll. He and Dutch go way back in a proper blood feud. Bad business…" Arthur says the last line with a particularly dark edge, and you make a note to ask about it at some point in the future. A breeze shakes the little cabin, and you burrow in tighter against Arthur, shivering lightly.

"They had a woman holed up in the basement, it was her and her husband's house. I can't imagine what they did to her. We found her husband shot outside, and then Micah got the goddamn house burned down. It was a right mess." Arthur says quietly, lightly shaking his head as if recounting the day with distaste. You rest your chin on his chest, looking up to see the remorse on his face, knowing he is punishing himself for an act he's not responsible for.

"And the woman…? What happened to her?" You inquire, fearing the worst for this girl. If the O'driscolls are as big and nasty a group as Arthur described, then you can only hope that she's okay.

"We brought her back with us, just till she gets on her feet again… y'know Dutch weren't too happy about finding O'driscolls up in these parts. He wants to hit them first thing in the morning."

You nod, resting your head back on Arthur's chest, glancing up through the cracks of the roof to get an estimate for the time. Your watch, the one you stole off of your current pillow and personal heater, was abandoned in Blackwater. The moon filters through the broken down roof, signaling that it's very early in the morning. You sigh, tracing the moonlight that trickles through until you see a few flickers of light. It's the stars, shining brightly now that the fog of a storm has passed. Arthur is seemingly eyeing them as well, as he speaks.

"Y’know you're like my little star." Arthur whispers, voice gravelly against your ear. You crane your neck to look up at him, pulling your eyebrows together. He doesn't look down to you, feeling too vulnerable to make eye contact.

"Everything that's goin' on, all the chaos, and you're still burnin'." His thumb rubs slow circles on your back as he talks.

"Shinin', bright, beautiful, but'll burn your ass faster than you can blink." Arthur chuckles, not even realizing what he's just said until he feels your breath hitch against his neck. You move your eyes away from the stars to rest your chin on his chest, looking up to him once more.

"You think I'm beautiful…?" You whisper, trying to hide your smile at Arthur's flustered state. His cheeks turn pink and his jaw falls slack as he stutters and avoids your eyes.

"I- I didn't mean nothin' by it, I was just- didn't mean to say- I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry-" Arthur rambles, cursing his damn big mouth and his thoughts for getting him in this situation that he's digging himself deeper into. You laugh at Arthur's quick embarrassment and self reprimandation. You move to lay on your back so you can better see the stars, still nuzzled tightly against Arthur, with his arm under your head, and his thumb tracing back and forth over your shoulder.

"Y'know my momma used to call me Star before she passed." You whisper, pushing down the emotions as you think of your sweet mother and her all too early fate.

Arthur squeezes you just a bit tighter in a show of comfort when he hears your sniffle. He lost his momma at a young age too. No matter how old you get, or how long it's been, the ache is still there.

"Well I think it's a fittin' nickname for you, considerin' how much time you spend lookin' at em." Arthur smiles, glancing between you lying beside him, cuddled into the crook of his arm, and the twinkling stars that are peeking through the abandoned cabin's splintered roof.

"Star… I think that's gonna stick." Arthur adds, adjusting himself a little and crossing an ankle over the other at the bottom of the bed.

"God Arthur, isn't it just beautiful?" You whisper, awestruck by the stunning, shimmering lights in the sky. They peek down through the cabin's cracks, causing your eyes to fill with them and sparkle as well.

"So beautiful…" Arthur whispers, but his eyes are not looking up. No, Arthur's eyes are fixated on you at his side, until he forces them to pull away on account of decency. He pulls you closer to him, savoring every second and cursing himself for being selfish enough to allow himself this moment.

"You warmer now? Comfortable?" He whispers, so close that you can feel his warm breath on your ear. You try to convince yourself that this is normal, that snuggling tightly in a bed with your best friend is normal.

"Toasty warm, mister." You reply, looking away from the stars to lay back on Arthur's chest. He holds his hand out in the air, waiting for you to situate yourself before resting it on your back, swallowing thickly at your actions.

"Try to get some sleep." He says. It takes only minutes for you to slip into slumber. Arthur on the other hand? He doesn't sleep the rest of the night.

—

"Honey?" A voice calls to you through your sleep. It's far away, beckoning you to join the realm of the living as you come to.

"Hmm?" You respond, too tired to form a coherent answer.

"I brought you some bandages, figure those are gonna need to be switched by tonight."

It's Abigail, and once you realize it's her, you finally perk up. She's standing beside your bed, placing a little roll of fresh bandages on the broken bedside table. You watch her hand release the roll, and notice the little fluttering paper beside it that is being held down by a glass bottle of tonic.

Arthur is already gone, he's been swept away by Dutch to go raid the O'driscolls. It's a foolish move. The gang is barely on its feet. The miniscule supply of food that had been brought from Blackwater has already dwindled, and while people here starve and freeze to death, Dutch is off with the strongest boys on a merry chase. When Arthur had woken up, only a few hours after he'd held you back to sleep, he had brushed a hair out of your face, pulled the blankets up for you, tucked you in and left you a note on the table. Unfortunately for you, when Arthur left he also took his warmth with him.

"Abigail? Could you help me get to the main cabin? It's mighty cold in here and I'm afraid my leg ain't lettin' me put much weight on it."

Abigail turns back to you, smiling.

"Course', c'mere."

She takes your hands, helping to pull you up to your feet. The weight on your leg aches something fierce, but at least the fever is gone.

You step towards the little table, eyeing the paper and tonic. You recognize the paper, the texture and torn edges tell you that Arthur has ripped it out of his journal, scribbling to you with his beloved charcoal.

Star, I've gone after these O'driscolls with some of the boys, should be back by nightfall. Drink the rest of this tonic to keep from getting sick again- Arthur

You pick up the delicate paper, smiling at Arthur's nickname for you. Folding it, you place it in your pocket before reaching for the medicine.

"Star?" Abigail questions, peeking over your shoulder, curious of the note you've been left.

"Yeah, little nickname Arthur came up with. Well, my momma used to call me Star too. Been a nickname since I was a girl, but I haven't heard it in awhile. It's nice." You explain, grimacing before you drink down the few swigs of tonic that are still left in the dark glass bottle.

The note stays tucked in your pocket as Abigail tosses your arm around her shoulders so that she can take some weight off your leg.

"Arthur told me about John last night… I can't imagine what you must be goin' through. I'm sorry Abigail. John is tough though, he'll be okay and we will find him."

Abigail is quiet, nodding her head lightly with a slight wobble to her lip.

"I hope so, Jack would be- what would he do without John?"

You know she's projecting a bit, as Jack is surely not the only one who would be lost without John. There's tension in Abigail and Johns relationship, something likely happened before you joined the gang, but it doesn't change that Abigail loves him. No, love isn't conditional like that.

That's all that is said, all that needs to be said as Abigail helps you to limp outside. Your leg is getting a little stronger but it still hurts like a son of a bitch to fully support yourself, something you'll have to get used to sooner or later because you'll be damned if you have to be helped along everywhere.

The snow is still thick on the ground, but the heavy downpour of snow and ice has stopped almost completely. Instead, the sun shines, finally having escaped the confines of the clouds. Eventually, after some struggling, you both make it to the main cabin where most of the gang is residing.

When you push the door open, the relief is immediate. It's much warmer inside, and you notice that someone already has a fire going in the fireplace.

"Just set me down over here, I'll be fine." You whisper to Abigail, nodding towards an empty bench on the left side of the wall. She gets you situated down on the bench, checking that you're comfortable before heading over towards Jack.

It's a boring day, and you're frustrated on account of your uselessness. Soft cries can be heard throughout the cabin, of friends and lovers who have lost their other halves. You crane your neck to glance out the broken window, sighing and wincing at the sight of two freshly dug graves that are marked with wooden crosses. The one closer to you, separated only by the cold, foggy glass, is marked with a 'J'. You've been repressing the emotion, repressing the memory, not allowing yourself to feel or to grieve. For just a moment, your mask slips down and a pain stabs your heart from the loss that you endured just a few days ago. But quickly you pull yourself together, wiping away the unshed tears and forcing yourself to bottle up like you always do.

You need a distraction, a vent to keep your mind busy so that it can't pull you down into the dark thoughts that threaten to eat you alive. You've been sitting here, not busy for far too long and it's starting to eat away at you, slowly creeping into your mind. You need to do something.

Charles enters the cabin with a pail filled with chunks of meat, and you stand up, putting most of the weight on your right leg as you walk over to him. He sets the pail on a wooden table off the center of the room, next to a decent sized stove.

"Charles, let me." You say, wiping your hands on your coat before taking in the ingredients in front of you. The pail of meat is fresh, likely just butchered. It appears to be venison, and it'll make a nice, gamey stew.

He rests against the table, eyeing you up and down quickly before cocking his head, as if unsure.

“You sure it's good for you to be standing for so long? Why don’t you go sit, its no trouble for me to-” Charles starts to rebuttal before you interrupt him.

“Please- all I've done since we got here is sit, and I need to do somethin’, I need to keep busy. What's good for me isn't sittin’ down and thinkin’ over all the shit that just happened.” You plead. There is understanding in Charles’ eyes, he knows exactly how you feel. Your eyes then travel to his hand, and you remember that he’d been hurt too. You’d seen the burn on his hand when he and Jenny carried Davey out of the boat. Now it's wrapped in clean gauze, pale against his skin.

“Sides’, you’re hurt too. What happened to your hand? Looked like a burn when I saw you on the boat...” You whisper, taking the meat out of the bucket and putting it into a pot, even though Charles never explicitly told you that it was okay for you to take over.

Out of reflex he stretches his hand a little, putting some pressure on the throbbing pain.

“When that oil barrel got shot I was standing too close, had my hand on a metal rail when everything went up in flames, burned me pretty good, but I’ll be fine.” Charles explains, glancing towards the sound of whimpering sobs. You follow his gaze to a woman you’ve never seen before, presumably Mrs. Adler. She’s wearing nothing but a chemise and a coat, her blonde hair is dirty and her freckled face is red and puffy from her cries that haven’t ceased since arriving. Slowly, you bring your eyes back to Charles, checking inside the stove to make sure the fire was still lit and hot. You poke the burning coals and wood with an iron prod that was sitting beside the stove.

“Charles when I went in there… everyone was-” You pause, looking around at all the miserable faces in the room, pausing on Jack and deciding to choose your words carefully, “I saw all the people, what the hell happened?” You ask, thinking back to the passengers on the floor, dead, and the ones cowering in the corner. Charles purses his lips as you take the pail of water that he’d brought in earlier and pour it into the pot. Steam rises from the simmering pot, along with the first mouth watering scents of real food.

“Dutch, it's like he lost his mind in there. Once the boat caught on fire, he was gone, he started yelling, he shot a girl in a bad way. I haven’t been with him long but… it was unlike him.” Charles whispers, distaste coloring his face, and a scowl that matches your own. You nod, thinking over the hell that has been the last few weeks. Nothing can really be said about it, what is there to say? The silence is comfortable as you stir the pot.

“Thank you, Charles. I’ve got this from here, why don’t you go rest, you’ve done plenty.” You thank him, and he dips his head lightly, resting his hand on your shoulder as he steps past you.

The meat simmers in the pot, and the water begins to boil lightly. Amongst your ingredients on the table are a carrot, salted offal, two apples, an onion, rosemary, thyme and a whole lotta rum. It's apparent that Pearson’s priorities were not with grabbing the gang food, but rather fueling his own addictions. You sigh, taking the carrot and pulling your knife out of its sheath. You chop it into slices and add it to the pot, just as you do with the onion and herbs. It's a simple stew, but it's still going to be delicious. The savory aroma begins to fill the room, and soon the hungry bellies of the gang begin to rumble.

After some more stirring, and some additions of more herbs thrown into the pot, you deem the stew done. There are enough metal bowls on the table for everyone in the room, and you fill them almost halfway. As much as you’d like to hand everyone a full bowl, there isn’t enough and you need to ration it. The boys will be hungry when they get back, and you make sure there is enough for everyone.

“Alright everyone, stews ready!” You holler, wiping your hands on your coat once more and watching as a huddle of cold faces light up at the mention of warm food.

Karen and Tilly come up together, arms linked to stay warm. Both are swaddled in coats, and Tilly has a scarf wrapped over her head to protect her ears.

“It smells so good, this’ll be the first meal any of us have eaten since Blackwater.” Tilly sighs, excited and hungry. Karen nods, taking two bowls, one for her and one for Mary-beth who is reading on a bench by the door.

“Thanks for cooking, Star!” Marybeth giggles from across the room and your jaw drops with a chuckle.

“Y'know gossip spreads around this place faster than the goddamn plague.” You laugh. Apparently, Abigail had told the girls about your note from Arthur, and the nickname that he had signed onto the top of the paper.

You sigh, shaking your head and handing out stew bowls to the people waiting in line. You thank Grimshaw for all her help with her leg as you hand her a bowl. Reverend Swanson, who is mostly unfamiliar to you, mentions that he’d expected you to have coins on your eyes when he’d seen you coming out of the wagon. Miss O’shea takes a bowl with a wicked scowl on her face, and Hosea thanks you, wishing you well with your leg before taking his bowl and resigning back to his cabin. Everyone who is there comes up, except for Abigail because Jack is sleeping in her lap.

Once everyone has gone through you turn around and see that Mrs. Adler hasn’t gotten a bowl. You bite your lip, toying with it while deciding to take some to her. Maybe she’ll want nothing to do with you. Maybe she’ll see your place in this gang as no different than the O’driscolls who took everything from her. But you won’t know until you try. Throwing caution to the wind, to take a bowl in hand and carry it over towards her. Her knees are brought up to her chest, and her arms are wrapped around them as she sobs into herself. Once you are in front of her, you hesitate. She hasn’t noticed you in front of her yet.

“Mrs? Do you- Are you hungry…?” You ask, extending the bowl of stew towards her.

Her head snaps up at you, and the glare she sends your way is ice cold.

“Could you eat if you were in my situation?” She hisses with a thick Texan accent. You nod your head, pursing your lips as you begin to turn on your heels to head back to the table.

“Take that as a no then…” You mumble under your breath. You only make it a step away before she calls out to you, gripping your wrist and pulling you lightly so that you face her again.

“I, wait- Im sorry.” She says, feeling regret from pushing you away so rudely just moments ago.

“Please, sit.” The woman offers, gesturing towards the open area on the bench next to her. You extend the stew out to her, and this time she smiles before you sit next to her. You wince as it pulls at your healing thigh, but the pain is already getting better. Mrs. Adler notices, and then thinks back to when the man that had brought her in, Arthur, had asked for medicine from her cabinet.

“You were sick when I got here right?” She asks, eyebrows pulling together slightly as she takes a bite of the stew. Her eyes slip closed for a second as she relishes the flavor. Instinctually, you run your hand down to your thigh, tracing over the bandaged wound.

“Bullet to the leg, I’m afraid… Nasty business.” You all but whisper, once again fighting your memory in an attempt to repress them. Your eyes flicker around the room, and for the first time in a while you see a few smiles. The food has brought some hope.

“Yeah. I'm glad to see you back on your feet then. I… I wasn’t doin’ so well last night. Couldn’t hear much other than my own cryin’, but from what I did hear, you weren’t doing so hot either.”

You’re at a loss for words, not sure whether or not to respond on the matter of her grieving her husband. After a little debating in your head, you decide on the former. If something happened to the love of your life you would probably want to talk about it.

“Mrs. Adler-” You start, but she holds her hand up quickly and interjects.

“Please, call me Sadie.”

“Sadie, I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you. I know how it feels to have someone you love taken from you for nothing other than selfish greed.” You offer, thinking about your Pa. A few tears form in your eyes as you think about him. He was a bastard towards the end of his all too short life, but he was still your Papa.

She smiles, seemingly remembering something, but it falters, and forms into a deep frown with tears rimming her eyes. Watching Sadie remember her husband is like the sun being driven out by a thunderstorm. The good memories flash over her face for a moment before she realizes that they will never be anything but memories. There is no chance for making new ones now.

“I- we…” Sadie starts, tears dripping silently down her cheeks, falling into her bowl of stew. She can’t find the words to express her heartache, or her gratitude towards you. But how could she? How can one put emotions so vast and contrasting into words?

“Jake and I, our farm-” She starts again, unable to put her grief into words. You place your hand on her knee, and she stops to look up at you.

“Hey, it's alright. Don't gotta talk about it now, just eat somethin, yeah?” You whisper, hoping that you haven’t made her feel worse. She looks up at you with a nod, and a sincerity.

“Thank you. You’re the first person who's actually talked to me since I got here. But I guess what could people even say…?” Sadie thanks you, taking another bite of stew.

“It’s no problem at all, Sadie.” You go to stand, but stop when she speaks once again, embarrassed that she didn’t ask your name.

“I didn’t catch your name.” She says, and you noticed the tears have stopped trailing down her cheeks.

“Well,” you chuckle, and tell her your real name, “but the new running nickname is Star, so why don’t you just call me that?”

“Thank you, Star…” Sadie offers sincerely, before letting you go. You smile at her once more before heading back to the table. Jack is still asleep, and you want to get some soup to Abigail. She hasn’t eaten either, but isn’t going to move the poor kid. He’s so young, too young to be going through all this. You pity Abigail, and how hard it must be for her to explain to her son what's going on.

Just as you go to grab the bowl off the table, a hand gently touches your elbow. You turn to see who it may be, needing some food or to give you an empty bowl. To your surprise the person in front of you is Lenny. Your jaw falls slack a little, and your eyes start to water before you stop them. You’ve been avoiding him, because what can you even say?

“Lenny…” You whisper, and there is so much pity and heartbreak in your voice that it sounds foreign to your ears.

He smiles at you, as if everything is going to be okay before he pulls you a little aside, away from the ears of others. It’s then that you see the unkempt look about him, his red eyes and the haunting grief that hasn’t left him since those few days ago.

“You were a good friend to Jenny… and I thank you for that.” Lenny says, glistening tears in his eyes that match your own. You hastily wipe them away, before glancing across the room, out the window to the fresh grave that is haunting you. You haven’t allowed yourself to feel it, to grieve it. You only knew Jenny a short time but in that time she was your friend and she’s gone. It took just a half-second for her life to be erased. Just a moment. If the shot had been off by a foot it would be you in that grave instead of her, and you wonder if it would be better off that way.

“She told me about your plans, about going to Tumbleweed. Lenny, I’m so sorry.” You whimper, asking yourself if Jenny’s death is your fault. They should be in Tumbleweed getting married by now. But Lenny is here with you, with tears in his eyes and a broken heart, and Jenny is buried outside.

“She- that never should have happened.” You pause, thinking over Jenny’s dying wish that she had whispered to you with the last breath of air that ever left her lungs.

“Jenny asked me to tell her how much she loves you… I was there with her, the whole time until she- until she…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, but Lenny understands, nodding with a smile that holds so much pain.

“I thank you for that, for staying with her. We dont get many chances for love in this life. Im glad for the time we spent together. God I miss her so much already, my sweet Jenny…” Lenny mutters, before pulling you into a hug. He’s so young, just barely an adult, and he’s already lost so much. The grief in the room is almost unbearable. Everyone has lost something, and yet you're the only one who won’t allow yourself to feel. Every time the emotion bubbles up, you stomp it back down. Lenny’s arms are tight around you in a show of friendship and heartache before he pulls away.

“Thanks for all you did for her, even in the end.”

“She would have done the same for me.” You smile, although there is no joy behind it.

“I'm sure she would have, miss.” Lenny adds before tipping his head to you and walking out of the room back to his cabin.

As soon as the door swings back into place, and Lenny’s figure disappears behind it, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A few tears and one quiet sob escape from you, but you quickly put yourself back together, wiping away your tears and avoiding the window that gives view to her grave. Just as you’ve finished collecting yourself, a little hand tugs on the bottom of your coat. When you look down, slightly startled, you see little Jack, cheeks pink from the cold as he looks up to you with tired eyes, despite the sleep he's gotten. He tugs on your coat until you give him your full attention.

“Are you okay? When I was with Mama I saw you crying. Is Lenny okay too?” Jack says, his little high pitched voice a light in the dark. You kneel down onto the ground beside him, ignoring your thigh, and once you're on the ground, he holds on to the lapels of your coat. His little chubby features are so worried. Jack’s too sweet for this life, too innocent.

“Yes, we’re just fine, little mister, I promise.” You chuckle, looking into Jack’s sparkling eyes that haven’t yet lost their childlike wonder.

“I was meaning to ask since you woke up, you hungry?” You ask, stretching from the ground to grab a bowl of stew from the table at your back. Jack lights up, looking forwards to his first meal in days.

“Oh yes, please! My tummy has been growling since we got here.”

You smile, handing him the bowl of stew and leaning your back against the wooden wall, still sitting on the floor. Much to your surprise, Jack settles himself right in your lap, scarfing down the soup as politely as he can. You tense for a moment, not expecting him to have sat in your lap. But after a few seconds you relax, resting back against the wall to let him be comforted, the poor boy just wants to be coddled, which is understandable.

“You are a very good cook! Better than Mister Pearson!” Jack says, excitedly. His bowl is almost half gone as he uses his sleeve to wipe away the broth dripping down his lip.

“Well thank you, Jack. Maybe I'll have to cook more often.” You respond. You enjoyed cooking for the gang, even though it's quite different from your usual line of work.

“Oh, please do!”

“Can I call you my aunt?” Jack blurts out, setting his empty bowl on the floor. Abigail overhears her sometimes overbearing son and chuckles knowingly.

“Uh, I- what?” You stutter, at a loss for words. Of everything he could have said, you didn’t expect him to say that.

“Well there's Uncle Dutch, Uncle Hosea and Uncle Arthur. I have aunt Tilly and aunt Karen… so are you my aunt now too? I asked if I could call Micah my uncle, but papa got mad…” Jack whispers, looking up to you with anticipation for your answer. With a little tap to his cherry red nose you respond.

“Well of course I’ll be your aunt, silly.” You smile at the pure joy radiating from Jack as he squeezes you into the tightest hug his little arms can manage.

“Okay so you’re my aunt Star!” He yells out, and your jaw drops with a laugh.

“You too? Has everyone picked this nickname up now?” You chuckle, surprised.

“Sure have!” Jack responds, cuddling back down into your lap.

—

A few hours later you wake up to yelling. You startle awake, gasping and out of instinct you pull your knife out before your eyes are even fully open. It's a habit you’re working on stopping. When you feel that unfamiliar weight in your lap, you pause to realize Jack is still sitting on you, nuzzled into your coat. He’s still asleep, and by the dark night outside, you presume he won’t be waking up soon.

“Abigail?” You whisper, not wanting to wake up the boy.

“I can take him now. Thank you. I didn’t wanna wake you either.” Abigail smiles, coming over from her makeshift bed on a bench. The yelling outside ceases for a moment before it continues again, but it's muffled. Abigail’s eyebrows pull together in worry before she gently picks up her sleeping boy and carries him over to his spot. She settles him down, and you move to stand but the ache in your leg has grown tenfold and is stiff as a board.

“Goddamnit.” You curse, realizing that you’d neglected to take the tonic that Arthur had left you that morning, and had spent all day walking on the bad leg. The lack of medicine combined with the sudden use has swollen your leg up and made it unbearable to put weight on.

Simply put, you can’t get up.

Anxiety suffocates you for a moment as you feel vulnerable and stuck. And yet you’re too proud to ask for help. You desperately want to investigate the noise outside, but you can't even stand on your own two legs. It’s the most frustrated you’ve been in your entire life. With a sigh, you give up, slinking back against the wall. After a while of internal struggle, you begin to drift to sleep again. It seems to be all you can do as of late, but your body is still fighting the latter end of an infection, and has been completely wracked by the trauma you’ve endured.

Your eyes are heavy, winning the battle as you fight to stay awake. That is until a large boot nudges your own on the ground.

“Hey you alright? Why you sleepin’ on the floor?” Arthur asks, standing above you. He looks exhausted, dark circles underline his eyes and purple bruises line his fists, which you choose to ignore.

“Just got tired and decided to stay here is all.” You lie, not wanting to ask another favor from Arthur. All he's done is help you, and you have nothing to give him in return. Asking him for more help would be just another debt to the man whom you can’t repay. He eyes you for a moment, hands resting on his gun belt before speaking.

“I'm goin’ back to the cabin. You headin’ over too?” He asks, gesturing towards the door.Your pride will not allow you this, and so you lie again.

“Yeah, I’ll go over in a few.”

Arthur chews on his lip, thinking for a moment before he dips his head and turns towards the door. His hands rest in the pockets of his large blue coat as he walks past the array of people who are sleeping, sprawled around the large room. He reaches the door and places his hand on the knob, but he doesn’t open it. With a small chuckle, and a shake of his head, he turns around and struts straight back over to you.

“What?” you ask, raising your eyebrow at the cowboy and pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders. One hand lightly massages the sore, tender flesh of your shot thigh.

“You can’t get up, can ya?” Arthur asks, all too amused by your scowl.

“I can get up just fine. Just choosin’ not to…” You mumble, avoiding Arthur’s eye contact. With a sigh, he leans down, wrapping his arm around your waist and helping you to stand. He’s on the same side as your bad leg, and he holds your arm tightly to help you along.

“I said I was fine-” You hiss, wincing when you take the first step.

“Yeah and I’m a dancin’ girl, now let me help you. C’mon.” Arthur jokes, taking his time to help you across the room. He goes at your pace, and you force yourself not to think about his hand on your waist. Slowly but surely you make it outside, across the road, and into the cabin.

As soon as Arthur sits you down on the bed he sighs.

“You are so goddamn stubborn, woman, you know that?” He chastises lightly, grabbing the tonic and bandages that you were supposed to use about… twelve hours ago.

“Been told once or twice.” You rebuttal.

Arthur kneels on the ground in front of the bed, right between your knees to grant him easier access to your wound. He’s careful, slow and patient as he peel back some of the cut denim to take the gauze off of your leg. It’s quiet as he wipes away some old poultice from your wound, apologizing quietly when you wince or tense up. In those moments, when you gasp or tense, his hand immediately leaves your thigh. He doesn’t want to cause you pain.

“Real good…” Arthur says, putting new bandages in place of the old. He glances up to your eyes every now and again to make sure he’s not hurting you, and there’s something so intimate about it. Him kneeling on the ground between your knees, his hand on your thigh as he helps you to heal makes your heart ache in an unfamiliar way and it’s so overwhelming that you have to look away and change the subject.

“So… What was all that yellin’ about before you came in?” You ask, referring to the commotion that had woken you up earlier.

Arthur nods, carefully wrapping the gauze around your thigh.

“That would be an O’Driscoll.” Arthur says, irritated.

You have to do a double take to make sure your ears are working.

“A-an O’Driscoll?! You lot brought an O’Driscoll to the camp where we sleep? Where Jack sleeps??” You bite, eyes wide with shock and confusion. Arthur had just told you last night about this dangerous, cold gang with no morals and a leader that is as sneaky as a serpent.

“Weren’t my idea, Star, trust me.” Arthur says, seemingly as surprised about it as you.

“He’s a harmless feller. Dutch wants to question him for information, that’s all.” Arthur adds, trying to ease your upset.

You nod, accepting his response for what is rather than what should be. One thing about your decision to run with a gang is that you signed up to follow Dutch. You live with his shots, that was your choice. So even though you strongly disapprove of this move, it isn’t your call.

“Okay…” You whisper. The wind howls loudly in the distance, and as you glance out the window you see the graveyard across the way that you've been desperately trying to avoid. Of course, Arthur notices this. He finishes bandaging your thigh before he speaks up.

“How you feelin’?” He asks, squeezing your knee a little. You know what he’s asking. He’s asking how you’re holding up after everything that you’ve gone through. And yet, you have a feeling that he already knows without you ever having to speak a word. You can’t bring yourself to open up, not even to him. You’ve built walls for a reason and taking them down is hard.

“It hurts, but I'll be fine. Grimshaw says the infections already gone down, just gotta keep it that way now..” You say, feigning ignorance to the depth behind Arthur’s question.

You rub at the tender skin around the gun wound in an attempt to ease the ache. By the look on Arthur’s face, he’s not fooled, and you frown deeply, avoiding his gaze. To your surprise, he stands up and sits on the bed beside you. Even as you avoid his eye contact, you can feel him staring at you. When you refuse to look at him, afraid that the tears will start falling, he places his index finger under your chin and pulls your gaze to his own.

“Star…you ain’t gotta lie to me, y’know. Not with me.” He whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut and you try your damndest to hold it in, but a single tear falls down your cheek, and your lip quivers. The conversation with Lenny today was almost too much. It brought back every memory of Blackwater that you had been trying so hard to repress. Arthur wipes the sole tear away with his thumb, smearing it across your cheek before taking both your hands and placing them in his own.

“You’re tough. You’re strong for everyone around you, and you’ve always got this damn wall up. You’re-” Arthur pauses for a second, looking down to his lap in thought before looking back up.

“You’re my friend. You ain’t gotta hide around me, alright?” He whispers, bright green eyes looking straight through your tough facade and boring into your soul.

The tears just start falling and you can’t stop them. For the first time in your adult life, you don’t try to. You bring your hands away from Arthur’s, and up to your face as you sob into your palms. Immediately, Arthur pulls your hands away from your face and wraps his arms around your small frame, swaying you gently on the bed and shushing you. You cling to his blue coat with every bit of strength you have, dampening the wool as you cry.

“I- I can’t believe they’re gone, Arthur.” You sob. All of the passengers that died on the boat, then Sean, Davey and Mac, possibly John. Jenny and Boadicea…You gasp for air, lungs shaking as you release all the emotions that have been building up for far too long.

“I know, I know…” Arthur whispers into your hair, running his hand up and down your back to comfort you. You’ve not been looked after like this in a long time. It's nice to know you have someone to bear your soul too, but right now all you can think of is the ones you lost.

“Jenny- Jenny was my friend!” You half cry, half gasp into Arthur’s coat, clenching your fists so tight onto his coat that your hands are on the verge of shattering.

“She was- she was talkin’ to me about Lenny. They was- They were gonna-” You sob, hiccuping and snotting against him. It's not an aesthetic visual, but it's raw.

“I know sweetheart, I know they was, c’mere.” He mumbles, pulling you against his chest to hold you even tighter.

You don’t correct him for the pet name like you did in Tumbleweed. Maybe you’re too emotionally drained to care, maybe you don’t mind it. Your sobs turn to cries, that turn to whimpers, until after a long while of crying, you're just breathing against Arthur’s chest. His grip on you hasn’t let up, but neither of you have said anything, just swaying and shushing. Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, but you push out one last whisper before they close.

“Arthur… I'm so sorry about Boadicea…”

Arthur sucks in a deep breath, fighting the emotion that bubbles up from the mention of his former horse.

“That wasn’t your fault. You hear me? That’s not on you.” He growls, holding you even tighter. His heart breaks to know that you’ve been carrying that weight. None of this is your fault.

Before long, you’re asleep in his arms. Even after he hears your breathing settle, and the light snores that you make, he doesn't go. He rests his back against the wooden wall and falls asleep with you in his arms. He can’t bring himself to let go of you, even for a second. Terrified that you’ll disappear from his arms or feel the need to close yourself off or be alone again. Because you're not alone, not anymore.

—

You wake up slowly. Underneath you is a slow rise and fall, accompanied by light snoring. You smile warmly before even opening your eyes. Arthur’s arms are still wrapped around your waist tightly.

When your eyes open, you are met with Arthur’s sleeping face. His eyes are peacefully shut, and his lips are parted to allow his little snores to fall from his lips. Besides his absolutely killer morning breath, he looks as snug as a bug. You chuckle, slowly prying yourself from his grip, trying not to wake him. He needs the sleep. You crawl over him, yelping as he snores particularly loudly, shaking you with his rumbles. Eventually you make it out of the bed alive. Arthur is still sleeping, and you pull the blankets up over him.

You want to leave him a note, and pull your leather bound journal out of your satchel. You haven’t opened it since everything went to shit, and you run your hand over the cover before flipping through the pages. The last entry was from a few weeks ago, the night that you had laid under the stars and picked wildflowers. Before venturing out you had written about meeting Jenny. It was also the same day Arthur bought his journal. Oh, how quickly things change.

You eye your last entry for a moment before turning the page, and tearing the next section out. You take your pencil and scribble onto the paper before setting it on the table next to Arthur’s hat. You go to sign your name at the bottom, signing the first letter before pausing for a moment and changing it.

Thank you for last night, really. -Star

It's short and sweet. Once it’s secured on the table, you glance back at Arthur one more time before heading to the door. Maybe it’s from the tender care he had shown you yesterday, or maybe it’s coincidence, but your leg feels much better today. You’re confident enough to head to the main cabin yourself. Your thigh is sore, but not the burning pain that had torn through you yesterday. You walk past the stables, glancing in pity towards the wails of the O’Driscoll being held captive. Some of the snow has melted from the sun, which you're grateful for, as it’s easier to navigate across the road. Still it takes you a bit longer than usual, and you curse whatever may be out there that you’re stuck in this position.

Before you’ve even breached the door, you can hear the arguing, the crying. God, what now? The gang seems to be falling apart at the seams and everyone is shattering. Once you pull open the door, the muffled voices become clear.

“Dutch van der Linde, it has been two days! He ain’t been seen in two days!” Abigail yells, storming after Dutch who is glaring at a very worried Hosea.

“Abigail, your John is just fine. Lost in the storm, he's probably on his way back from wherever he is right now.” Dutch rebuttals, causing Hosea to grow irritated.

“The girl is right, Dutch. He could very well be dead out there. We barely survived here and we have walls, who knows where the poor boy ended up.” Hosea states, worried over the state of the closest relationship he’ll ever have to a son. Dutch turns, glaring daggers at Hosea, but he's met with a glare just as strong.

“I’ll go get him.” You state, and all eyes in the room shift to you. Abigail practically whimpers, uttering out her thanks as you pull your coat back over your shoulders. Hosea steps forward, a look of pity on his face.

“Dear girl, your leg… You’re barely back on your feet, you can’t venture into this mess.” Hosea says, gesturing to the freshly wrapped bandages around your thigh.

You pull your revolver out of its holster, squinting and looking down the barrel to make sure it's clean and fully loaded before you reholster it.

“I have to. For Jack, for Abigail. If he's out there I gotta find him. Sides’ my leg is fine, really.” It’s a bit of a white lie that your leg is fine, but you need to find John.

“I’ll bring him back, Abigail. I will.” You promise, hugging her tightly before heading towards the door.

“Estrella! I'm coming too.” Javier calls out, pulling a patterned poncho over his coat and grabbing a sawed off shotgun from his items. You nod, chuckling as Javier approaches.

“Estrella? I even wanna know what that means?” You laugh, gearing up with Javier.

“It’s nothing,” he laughs, “You think we can handle this? Just the two of us?” Javier asks, holstering his gun before holding the door for you. You walk towards the barn while you think. You’re not even sure who to ask, but you’re not waking Arthur up, he needs the sleep. You chew on your lip for a second, thinking it over before you come to a decision.

“Yeah, just us. We can handle it.”

When you push the barn doors open, you see Charles, sitting in a wooden chair about ten feet in front of the tied up O’driscoll. He’s sharpening a knife, barely paying attention to the smaller man’s cries.

You dip your head to Charles in greeting before going through the open stalls. Boadicea isnt here, and it causes that dull ache to grow a little stronger. You do see however, right next to your still unnamed buckskin, an unfamiliar horse.

“Where’d this guy come from?” You ask, petting the skittish tobiano.

“Oh. Arthur found him when they raided those O’Driscolls. He’s keeping him for now.” Javier says before grabbing the reins to his paint, Boaz. He leads the stallion outside, and you grab the buckskin to chase after him.

“Can you track?” Javier asks, mounting up on Boaz in time with you. He starts off at a trot, leading you towards the main road.

“Yeah, my Pa taught me when I was just a girl. If he was through, I’ll see. I just hope his tracks aren’t covered with snow…” You say, retaining hope that John is alive and well.

“Good. we’ll go back to the main road, try to find where he broke off.” Javier calls back to you, pushing Boaz into a canter. You run after him, pulling your coat up over your nose to protect it from the cold.

You cut across the river, and it isn’t long before you find a few sets of tracks.

“Hey is John’s horse shod?” You yell up to Javier, who chuckles.

“No. That horse is the most sure-footed bastard you’ll ever ride. Carajo, he’s more like a mule than a horse.” Javier jokes. One set of hoof tracks resembles a shod horse, and one an unshod, so you start following the latter trail.

“It cuts across the crick here.” You yell, running across the little creek and picking up the trail on the other side. Javier and Boaz fall behind you, following as you lead the way.

After following the trail for a bit, you come upon a gorge. It causes your limbs to tingle with anxiety, and you try not to look down and see how deep it goes.

“Shit, be careful. There's a hell of a drop here.” You say, navigating your horse around the fault. John was more reckless, his tracks prove that his horse cantered around the gorge, cutting deep as if running from something. After some more following, splatters and drips of blood are evident against the crisp white snow.

“Javier…” You whisper, following the trail that shows evidence of the horse spooking, and jumping around, like there was a fight. More blood is spilled in the snow the further you travel along.

“I see it too…” He whispers, and both of you are less sure that John is okay.

“Oh no.” You mutter under your breath as a large body comes into view. You gallop towards it, sliding your buckskin into a stop as you jump down.

“It’s John’s horse. He must have went on foot from here.” You say, glancing between the initials “JM” that have been tooled into the leather, and the disappearing trail of footprints in front of you.

You take in the poor horse before jumping onto your own. It was brought down and partially eaten by something, either a bear or a wolf, most likely the latter.

“His tracks disappear, but we gotta keep goin’!” You holler over the wind. The cold is almost unbearable as you ascend higher up the mountains, and the snow grows deeper, making it harder for the horses to climb.

“Estrella, the horses are getting tired.” Javier calls up, unsure of when to stop following the lost trail.

You feel your horse’s gait getting sluggish, and feel his breaths become hot and heavy.

“So we’ll go on foot.” You rebuttal, refusing to give up just yet.

After cantering to the top of the hill, you hop down, grabbing a springfield rifle and enough ammo to kill whatever may be prowling.

“JOHN!!” You scream into the wind, receiving no reply except your own echo and the whipping wind. You can barely stand the wind, but you push on anyway.

“I don’t- we dont even know he’s up here.” Javier tries to reason, but you continue to walk away, sliding down a small slope before coming to a ridge that youll have to jump up to. Its taller than you, and you sigh in frustration. Javier notices your hesitation, and he jumps up, grabbing the rock platform and pulling himself up before extending his hand down to you.

"I'll help you, come on." He calls down and you hesitate to take his hand, a scowl formin on your lips.

"I don't need your help." You hiss, knowing fully that you absolutely do need his help. The platform is way taller than you.

"Easy there tigra, I'm just trying to help." Javier placates, and you feel bad for snapping at him. You jump up as high as you can manage, gripping onto his hand and allowing him to pull you up by your arms.

"I'm sorry. Just tired of sittin' down and askin' for help all the t-time." You explain, standing up and dusting the snow off your legs while shivering heavily.

"I understand that." Javier smiles, leading you towards a crack in between the rocks. It's big enough for you to walk through, and you squeeze in, feeling both frozen to death and terrified by the altitude you’re at. Javier is quick to slip in after you, noticing the chills that wrack your body.

“Here this should warm you up.” He extends a bottle of bourbon out to you. The cap is already popped off, and you down a swig before handing it back. The bourbon burns down your throat, warming you as it does.

“Thanks.”

Just as Javier takes the bottle back, you hear a voice. You can't make out what it says, but it's raspy and familiar. You and Javier share a glance before you start running to the other side of the tunnel.

"John!! Keep talkin' so we can follow your voice!" You beg, jogging after the initial sound.

"Help!" John yells, and you dart to the left in the snow until you come upon a dip. Your leg aches, but it doesn't matter. This is too important. You run to the edge of the little cliff and look down.

Down the cliff, John looks up at you, frozen and exhausted. There are bloody gashes in his face, markers of a wolf attack. Blood trickles down his chin, staining the snow white. Really, it's a miracle he didn't bleed to death.

"John, you look like shit." You say before whistling to the horses. Javier is only a few steps behind you, and he hops down into the hole. John groans in pain as Javier tosses him over his shoulder.

"Good to see you both too." John says with a small laugh despite his bleak situation.

"Brother, we were worried about you." Javier says, waiting as Boaz canters up the hill alongside your buckskin.

Once the horses reach you, Javier helps John mount up behind his saddle. You both get on and start cantering down the hill towards Colter.

"Your woman's been worried sick about you, y'know." You holler over the wind towards John who looks far too close to sleep for your liking.

"Oh there will be hell to pay when I get back."

The three of you grow quiet, too concerned with getting John back to really chat. You make it about halfway, pushing the horses as hard as you can through the snow before you hear them.

Howls sound out from the top of the mountain, and you whip around on your horse to see five snow white wolves running down the bank towards you.

"Shit, John looks like your buddies came back to finish their meal!" You yell, pulling your rifle from the holster on your saddle. You flip the safety off, load a bullet into the chamber, aim right for the closest wolf's chest and fire.

The first wolf goes down, and as the shot rings out, the other four falter for a moment before returning to their chase.

You aim for the next closest wolf, but right as you squeeze the trigger, your buckskin trips on a rock hidden under the snow and you miss. The horses are galloping so fast down the mountain, and turning around makes it difficult to aim. The wolves are getting far too close for your liking, and anxiety causes you to have tunnel vision.

You take a deep breath, and as you exhale time seems to slow down. You aim, squeezing the trigger four times and taking down all four wolves. When the last one hits the ground, your vision returns to normal and time seems to resume.

"Fine shootin, lady." John says as you come out of your trance. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced before, and you have to shake your head.

"Thanks." You say, tossing your rifle strap over your shoulder and spurring your horse across the river.

Colter has come into view now, and you see the few people loading up wagons outside. So we're leaving then?

You slow down your horses, coming into the town.

"We need help!" You call out, dismounting and jogging to Javier's horse.

Abigail runs out the main cabin door, and the relief that washes over her face is clear as day. But as she takes in his poor state, it is replaced by concern.

"John Marston where in the hell have you been?!" She yells, rushing over to where Javier is lifting John down.

"Oh you know, up on the mountains gettin' eaten by damn wolves. I missed you too, dear." John jokes, wincing as they carry him inside.

You are left alone outside the cabin, and you take the horses by their reins and lead them the a hitching post. After tying their reins up, you offer both horses an outtake from your satchel, which they greedily accept.

Just as you're about to head back to the main cabin, the door swings open.

"Why didn't you wake me up? I was worried sick." Arthur says, walking hastily towards you before, to your surprise, wrapping you in a hug. It lasts only a few moments, and you exhale, releasing the day's tension as he hugs you. When he lets you go, he leans down to inspect your thigh.

"You okay? It hurt? You shoulda got me up, that was a dangerous trip." Arthur says, worry evident on his face. You raise one eyebrow at him, giggling at his 'mother hen’ state.

"Haven't you learned that I can handle my own yet, Arthur?" You ask, a little offended that he's suggesting you needed help. You know he means nothing by it, but still.

"Oh, I know, trust me I do. But you shouldn't have to do everything alone."

The air grows too serious for your comfort, and you nod towards the main cabin before heading over to the door. Arthur is by your side as you open the door.

"Further East?" Uncle says, getting up out of his chair, "Why don't we just run down to the city and turn ourselves in? How you mean we're going further east?"

"The west is blocked off, we have no choice! We go east, lay low for a little while. We can hide out and lick our wounds. And then my friends, once they have long forgotten our troop, we seek absolution out west, as far as we can go." Dutch says, addressing everyone in the middle of the room.

You and Arthur give each other a look, not too sure about heading further east. Hosea steps up beside Dutch and looks around at his family.

"I don't like it, but he's right. We have nowhere else to go." Hosea adds.

"And where will we go? Do we have a spot picked out? Twenty people ain't exactly easy to hide, Hosea." Tilly points out, and as you look around the room, everyone seems to be at a loss.

"I don't know, dear girl. We'll find it when we come across it I suppose…

An idea sparks in your head, and you step forward from Arthur a bit.

"Actually I may know a place." You interject, and everyone's eyes land on you.

"My daddy was a gunsmith, and every year he took us to this trade fair in Valentine. It's just down the mountain." You say, and Hosea nods, thinking.

"Valentine… I know it, little livestock town, our kinda place." Hosea thinks out loud.

"Just off the town is an open space, hidden in the woods that overlooks the valley. It's well hidden and big enough for all of us. We used to set up camp there every year when I was a girl.

"And it's safe? Well hidden?" Arthur asks, stepping up towards you. You nod, craning your neck to look at him.

"Yeah. There's trees around all sides except for the overlook. Plenty of good spots for lookouts, it's not too close to the road. And we'll have a pretty view too."

"And this place, it have a name?" Dutch asks, stepping forward.

"Horseshoe Overlook."

Dutch and Hosea share a look, thinking it over, before Hosea comes forward and places a hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you miss- what are they callin' you now? Star?" Hosea cuts himself off.

"Apparently." You chuckle, quickly glancing back to Arthur.

"Well it's fitting. You're a bright girl, my dear and you may have just saved our sorry asses." Hosea pats your shoulder for good measure before turning to the rest of the room.

"As soon as Johns back on his feet we are heading out!"

You sink back beside Arthur, looking up at him for a few moments. He knows that look. You're worried. Here you all are, heading towards yet another unknown, another situation that may hold death for everyone. But Arthur will be by your side through it all. And if even just for a little while… that makes it all okay.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

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comfort-questing · 8 months

Text

"poisoned weapon"

post ep1 of Vox Machina s2

for @crowscroll, bless :)... an accidental epic

They had fled, and fled, and fled, ever since the sun rose that morning - and even though Whitestone's walls surrounded them now, Vax's heart had not yet stopped pounding, the taste of ash still bitter in the back of his throat as he breathed in.

Dragons. The dragons had come, not one but seven, the sky blackening beneath their wings, and the fires rising to meet them.

Here in the De Rolo mansion the terror seemed far away, distant; but closing his eyes or letting his thoughts stray for a moment was enough for it to return. He had joined the endless debates on tactics and plans, defense and reprisal, sitting at his sister's side - earlier, and then run away again, here to the quiet of the upstairs library with the books and high windows clean and bright now. But the murmur and stir of voices in the great hall below, the clatter outside of refugees finding their place and lamenting their losses, all of those were reminders as well.

Vax hugged his arms tightly around himself, forcing his eyes to count the carved figures along the ceiling high above, to trace their shadowy lines in hopes of dulling... other things.

The sound of the knob turning, clumsily fumbled, and the door creaking open made him startle at first, then sit up to welcome the intrusion. Percy was there, in the doorway, hand still on the knob as if it were supporting him upright. He'd found a new coat somewhere but not been quite able to put his arms through the sleeves; the tattered, blood-stiff and dirt-stained remains of his shirt were clearly visible beneath. A spiderweb crack in one glasses lens caught the light as he turned.

There was something about the clench of Percy's jaw that made Vax's neck prickle with nervousness, and the quick breaths that jarred his stiff-set shoulders, under the slung coat.

"I think," said Percy, in a low colorless sort of voice, "that I might need to lie down for a bit."

Vax was on his feet in a moment, the banked flame of the day's panic flaring back up in his chest. But Percy's intuition had come a little late, it seemed, because it was only two steps into the room before his knees buckled and he met the ground in a limp tousle of limbs and cloth.

The next handful of moments seemed very slow and very fast at the same time: finding the fast thready pulse in Percy's throat, tucking a pillow from the sofa under his head, pulling back the heavy fabric of the borrowed coat to check for any hidden injuries. The half-healed bruising from their dash through the city, the scald marks like sunburn from too-close dragon breath - Percy's skin was feverishly warm, small gasps escaping him at each touch, then a strangled cry when Vax's hand slipped along the back of his right shoulder.

Vax sat him up, carefully as he could, Percy's head lolling back as he lifted him. There - arcing along the back of his arm and shoulder, two marks like claw scores, the skin fresh and fragile from Pike's healing earlier in the day but with vicious streaks of swollen red beneath, veining outwards from the healed marks.

Percy winced at Vax's touch, eyelids flickering behind the heavy lenses of his glasses.

"Shh," murmured Vax, his own voice hoarse in his ears. "Lay down and don't move, will you? I'll get the others."

"I - did say - I needed - to lie down," said Percy, in a small breathless whisper, and bit his lip as Vax settled him down on the floor again. The sharp blush of fever was starting along his cheekbones, and the dirt driven into his hair made the pale locks almost dark against his pallid forehead. "I'm - sorry - for the trouble."

"Look, enough things have happened today that - " Vax started, and broke off, since Percy didn't seem to be listening, and anyway how he would end the sentence he didn't know. That all I want is for us all to be safe, maybe. Ironic, and cruel, when Emon had fallen to its knees before the dragons just that morning. But in the wreck of the world he wanted his own people around him, and was that wicked or wrong?

So he swallowed down the lump in his throat and gathered himself to his feet, sore muscles throbbing.

"I'll be right back," he said to Percy, and fled before the tears in his eyes could show.

"Dragon poison," said Pike, in one of the upstairs rooms, half an hour later; Percy tucked securely into bed with Cassandra sitting steely-eyed at the foot, Vex pacing restless in front of the curtained window. "Their teeth - their claws - I didn't see it happen, only the rocks sliding, and the black dragon above. I just healed him up so we could - we could keep running..."

"It's okay, Pickle. You did everything you could." Vax reached out to put a hand on the gnome's shoulder, and she leaned her exhaustion-lined face against it. "Can you heal him again, then?"

Pike chewed her lower lip, the silence stretching long, broken by Percy's quick rough breathing where he curled up beneath the covers.

"Poison - is complicated," she said. "It's his own body reacting to it, and - I don't know how to help. And I've got nothing left for today, I was busy outside, with the other refugees - " Her lips were trembling again, her hand white-knuckled around the symbol of the Everlight.

"Is there anything you can do, then?" said Vex, the first time she'd spoken since they'd brought Percy upstairs to the bedroom. Vax could sense the tension in her shoulders as she paused her pacing for a moment.

"I don't know. I think we should find an herbalist, and try to bring his fever down in the meantime."

Percy coughed, sharply, and Cassandra leaned forward, her face still and taut under the ragged fringe of her growing-out hair.

"That's good for a start," Vex said. She rubbed at her forehead, smearing the remainders of ash and dirt still there. "Keep him comfortable. It sounds like his throat and lungs are swelling too - we'll have to do something about that. It's not an unusual reaction to dragon poisons..."

The matter-of-fact tone of her voice might have fooled the others, but Vax knew better. He wanted to try to reach out and catch her hand, like he was holding Pike's, but she was back to her pacing, the fading pain-lines from her headache earlier still graved in her skin.

Percy mumbled something into the pillow, incoherent, and coughed again, blinking hazy-eyed at his sister sitting next to him and then at the others scattered round the room. His hand fumbled up to his face as if to push up his glasses, though the frames were now folded and placed on the table next to him.

"Shh," said Cassandra, almost too softly to be heard, and brushed her knuckles across the back of his hand. "Shh. You're going to be all right."

There was something so painfully familiar and akin in her voice that Vax glanced quickly over at Vex in reflex, but his twin was too far to reach in that moment. So he settled for patting Pike's arm again as she sniffled quietly into her shirt collar, the exhaustion of the day telling on her as on the rest of them.

In the bed, Percy grasped at Cass's hand, blindly, and held on.

The hours went by, noon turning to golden afternoon, sunrays striking brilliant through the crack in the curtains. Percy's fever climbed as time passed, his breathing dampening, cough rough with effort. Now and again he woke a little, his eyes finding their faces around him, mumbling half-heard words before slipping back into his drowse.

Keyleth's gentle singing seemed to help soothe him a bit, whether through magic or other means; Scanlan dropped by for a little while, scowling and fidgeting with his lute in grim worry; Grog shadowed Pike for a while, doing his best to cheer the frown off her face. Vex and Pike didn't leave, except for a brief trip to get herbs and supplies; and so neither did Vax, and of course neither did Cassandra, her intent face both haunted and haunting alike.

In the end, Pike fell asleep, face-first on the bedcover next to Percy's hand. Vax put an extra blanket over her, although all the pillows had gone to prop Percy up in bed, trying to ease his breathing against the tightness of his throat and lungs.

Cassandra looked up, then, her pale blue eyes blank and wide.

"Miss Vex'ahlia."

Vex hadn't stopped pacing for a while, but she stopped then.

"You know about - things about dragons, and what they do, don't you?"

"Yes. I do." Vex's knuckles whitened at her sides.

"So - will he - " Cassandra stopped, swallowing hard, her throat lurching.

Vex didn't answer; instead, she sat down on the edge of Percy's bed, reaching out to brush back the strands of sweat-matted hair from his forehead. His eyelids flickered faintly, and he turned his face into the curve of her palm, his slow sigh turning into a cough midway through.

"There, there, darling," Vex murmured, and reached for the cup at the bedside to bring to his lips. "Slowly, don't choke on it. We've got time."

That was a lie, while the Chroma Conclave still swept the skies above Emon. But there was no sense saying anything different, here in their endless moment of waiting. How funny it was that the whole world could stop for you, when one of your own's lives was in the balance, even as every other tragedy continued... Vax bit his lips, watching the raw ache in Cassandra's eyes.

Percy opened his eyes a little, then, between sips from the cup, and one side of his mouth twitched in something like a smile.

Cassandra didn't say anything else. Only sat there, fiddling with the tie on her tunic, the scar silvery across her throat in the afternoon light.

Pike was asleep, snoring softly, so Vax tried patting Cassandra's hand instead; he expected her to pull away, but she didn't. And maybe it was a little easier, waiting together.

Waiting, as the dusk came on, and Percy's wheezing breaths started to ease again, though he still grimaced and winced at each cough; waiting, as the firelight from each house and makeshift dwelling in Whitestone picked warmth out of the gathering dark; waiting, Cassandra whispering alternate threats and reassurances to her brother as she wiped the sweat from his forehead, Vex asleep in the chair and Vax propping up her head with a rolled-up cloak to keep her neck from getting sore.

Grog came and carried off Pike eventually, whose nap had turned into a proper sleep before long. Scanlan brought them food from the kitchen and wished some colorful imprecations on dragons all and sundry, accompanied by his lute; Percy might have smiled again at that, though it was hard to tell for sure.

Vax had tried to stay awake, he'd tried; but his exhausted body eventually took over, though the tangled mess of nightmares waited for him beyond. He woke a little past midnight in a startle and cracked his head on the bedpost, jerking upright. But his outstretched hand then found Percy's, limp on the sheets, sweat-damp and cool once again, and that brought him properly back to consciousness along with his sore head.

"What - happened?" Percy's voice, slow and hoarse, but without the colorless dazed note from that morning that had frightened him so.

Vax squeezed his hand.

"You had a brush with some dragon poison, that's all. Go back to sleep."

"But - we can't. We have to - the dragons - the city - " Percy tried to straighten up against the pillows, wincing and shivering at the effort, face pale in the candlelight.

"It's the middle of the night, you idiot," Vax hissed. "Go back to sleep, I said."

"You - are a funny one - to tell people to sleep," mumbled Percy, but stayed put nonetheless.

"We'll figure it out in the morning," said Vax, with a confidence he did not feel, but perhaps Percy was still too weak to adequately recognize deception. "And - don't scare us like that again, all right?"

Percy had his eyes closed again by then, a hopeful sign. "Try not to," he said.

How funny it was, Vax thought - that even when the world was falling apart, it could still feel so solid, here in the candlelight with his sister asleep in the chair half a reach away, and his friends safe and alive beneath one roof. How funny, how unfair, and how beautiful, too...

And he let his own eyelids fall closed again too, until morning, and the new battles to come.

#playing fast and loose with dnd dragon mechanics #bad things happen bingo #critrole whump #tlovm whump #crow writes a thing

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lolabangtan · 2 years

Text

04 | itching

President Kim comes down with a cold, and since it’s kind of your fault, you feel responsible for him. While you make sure he’s resting properly at home, Jimin leaves you in charge of the office.

index • previous • next

Word count: 6k

Warnings: be prepared to fucking MELT.

# fluff, awkward parent meeting, hurt/comfort, sick chapter, nursing sick!Tae, kinda rough nursing tho, feverish dreams, he endures the worst chicken soup ever, you can feel a certain je ne sais quoi in the air 😏, it’s like they’re being driven by some mystery force but still cringe at their own vulnerability, Jimin is very mysterious and kind of a dick.

Another shrieking, dry, mind-wrecking cough echoes across the office.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you take the last sip of your coffee. When you put it back on the desk, perhaps a bit too harshly, it sounds as if you almost broke it into pieces. Luckily, the mug remains in one.

Then some loud sniffling.

With a groan, you get up and quickly walk down to the nearest break room just to get some warm water and come back.

You knock on the door. “Mr Kim? May I come in?”

“Yeah…”

Goodness, he looks miserable: puffy nose, swollen face, droopy eyelids, and a toilet paper roll that only could look unsuspicious in this specific situation.

Yes, your boss has come down with a cold, and he’s making it everybody’s problem.

But it’s your fault, or so you think – maybe Kim Taehyung would be all right If you had not forced him to walk you down to your bus stop and share an umbrella. It’s been a week since then, but who knows? He could have some sort of, uh, delayed constitution. And, as an additional benefit, you would’ve never started to feel so awkward around him. Which is way worse than a fucking, unimportant cold. You have to go to work on your period! Why are men such weak creatures?

“You’ve been coughing and sniffling all morning,” you say, crossing your arms. “Hadn’t you better go home?”

But Taehyung shakes his head, adamant and so fucking cute— “No, I… I can work. It’ll go aw—”

The loudest, most vociferous sneeze makes the windows tremble, cutting him off as he rushes to grab some toilet paper. You’ll pretend you didn’t see the shiny string of snot before he wipes his nose with an embarrassed blush.

“Just go home, sir.”

“I gotta finish reading these reports,” he murmurs. “It’d be unfair to waste someone’s time by ignoring their hard work… right?”

You look at him with a grimace of half-pity, half-disgust, pondering the idea of just kicking him out of the building and sending him home; he can’t work like this. What he needs is to rest, heal his cold, and come back even stronger. It’s a waste of time and energy for everyone else to drag a day of work just because he feels guilty for leaving.

“Okay, I’ll come back later to get the reports,” you say with an annoyed tone.

“Thank you…”

Even the way he speaks, weakly, dragging the words and losing focus, shows how tired and sick Kim Taehyung is. His pale skin, usually a healthy bronze, and reddened nose only confirm this.

But you get to the door and leave; there might be another way to do this. Obviously, you get what the president means, as you also hate to leave when there are loads of work left, but you’re also rational enough to understand that it usually backfires.

After that, the first part of the morning flies by; you make coffees – for yourself mostly – review documents, prepare meetings, discuss with some of your colleagues about your favourite series, and answer the phone. You can’t deny that you don’t really dislike the job, although you miss being in charge, especially when one of your bosses demonstrates their clear ineffectiveness in management. But nobody’s perfect, unfortunately.

Also, you are concerned about way too many things right now, starting with Kim Namjoon’s visit the other day.

Who’s to say you’ll have the same luck next time and won’t come back along with Seokjin? Then you will have completely screwed up – because maybe Namjoon is wise enough not to comment on the fact that the one sitting in your chair is not Jeon Miyeon, but Seokjin would never hide his surprise at seeing you here.

Understandable, of course, since you are ‘on the other side of the ocean’.

But why didn’t Kim Namjoon say anything? Did he do it, perhaps, to protect Miyeon? Maybe he figured out that your role here is to cover for her while she’s away and he kept it to himself.

Obviously, if you ever dropped by a dear one’s office expecting to see someone and found a completely different person— you don’t know how you would have reacted. By calling the police, most probably. This time you got the right end of the stick.

Although, again, aren’t you doing all of this actually to help her? It would be bad enough if, in addition to having to pretend to go on holiday and being forced away from your business, you now had to deal with a latent danger of imprisonment. Not unlikely, for now. You have to remain vigilant.

At the first opportunity, you escape to the bathroom and take out your phone to call Miyeon. It takes her a while to pick up, but you finally hear her voice.

“Yes?”

“Hi, darling,” you greet her.

“Hello! How’s my little criminal doing? Too much paperwork—? Oh, I forgot; you actually like that.”

“Very funny,” you say, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see you. “Uh, everything’s good, uh, but I was wondering… Has your father called recently?”

“Hm, he hasn’t— why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah! Just wanted to check…” You go silent for a second, and that’s all Miyeon needs to know to figure out something is off. “Well, I’m just a bit concerned about Kim Namjoon’s visit. My bet is that he’s covering for you, but you never know… I guess it’s just this whole thing making me anxious—”

Miyeon cuts you off. “Why would he be covering for me? Isn’t he Kim’s cousin?”

“I think he just doesn’t want to get your father in trouble.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed by your lie, and you fight a silly grin. “Yeah, that makes sense. Namjoon looks up to him a lot… So, Kim Taehyung isn’t acting weird since then, is he?”

“Nope. Totally normal. Just being his cute self.”

Damn it, it slipped off your tongue.

“Cute, huh?”

“Well, I mean, not—”

“Last time we talked he was a jerk and a dick.”

“Don’t you have a mud bath session to go to or something?” you bark. “Leave me alone.” Miyeon chirps a goodbye, and you hang up, regretting the call instantly. At least now you can be anxious about something else.

Maybe Miyeon thinks you have feelings for your boss? That would be totally wrong, but she is capable of believing something like that.

Well, whatever, you have other things in mind at the moment— like finding a way to send Kim Taehyung home, you think as another sneeze makes the walls tremble.

You could tell Park Jimin and try to persuade him to get off work.

Convinced, you get up from your desk, making sure there is not too much commotion in the office, and head for the lobby. From there it’s not long before you reach the wing where Park Jimin’s office is located; you greet his secretary and knock on the door.

“Come in.”

You walk in and close it behind you.

The room is dark, barely lit through the drawn blinds. There is a lamp lit in the corner, and the computer screen glows in the gloom, illuminating Mr Park’s face. His dark eyes are fixed on you, expressionless, eerie.

“Can I help you, Ms Shin?” he asks, and his voice takes you by surprise.

“Uh, yes…” At his gesture, you enter the room, leaving the door behind you. “I came to tell you that President Kim has got sick, and to ask if there is a way to get him to go home.”

“Have you tried… asking him if he wants to go home?”

For a moment, you forget your faux position in this room, the fact that you’re technically just a secretary, and frown; cheeky and snobby because of course, you’ve already contemplated that idea. Does he think you’re an idiot? He must do. Otherwise, he’s a fool and wants to come to blows with you, you know, pick up a fight.

You arch an eyebrow and let out a scoff. “Of course? But he refuses.”

“I see…” Jimin says, looking away. “Well, Ms Shin, then there’s nothing you can do about it. Bear with the sneezes as best as you can—”

“He’s just going to get worse.”

“Uh?”

“If Mr Kim stays and overworks himself, not only will the quality of his work deteriorate, but his health will worsen as well. It’s counterproductive,” you continue.

Park Jimin stares at you for a solid five seconds, completely silent and eery-looking.

“Are you always this… logical?” he suddenly asks.

His body is completely turned towards you now, giving you all his attention. You feel like until now, Park Jimin was just messing with you like a twisted sort of Cheshire cat, a mere amusement, but finally, he’s willing to mind your words.

“When there’s a need for it.”

A silence settles between the two of you, so you decide to thank him, albeit reluctantly, for his time and leave. His secretary bids you farewell with a sympathetic look, promising to buy you a coffee later. The rest of the walk back to your desk feels absurd, humiliating, and tedious, and you have this feeling that you’ve got nothing from it.

You have a missed call on your landline to Taehyung’s office. You look at the number and head for the door to let him know.

“Mr Kim—”

He’s already walking out when you stop before bumping into him. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?” you blurt out, stepping back so that the man can get out. He looks as sick as he did this morning. “Is everything all right? I don’t recall any meetings scheduled for—”

“My brother just called me and told me off for coming to work sick,” Taehyung explains with a stuffy nose.

You watch him put on his elegant coat; there was no need for him to explain why he was going home, actually. You’re just his secretary, you only need to know whether he’s going to need his car or write a memo to remember to get some medicines for him.

It’s peculiar, and kind of funny, how he can be the coldest and warmest person at the same time. Always so sharp and dashing, looking at everyone with a harsh eye, keeping quiet, maybe even not bothering to waste his breath. A thick shell protecting him from the outer world. But then he sometimes looks at you, and he speaks so softly, almost like a murmur, and his round cheeks frame his smile in a way that makes your heart skip a beat, and it feels like you’re looking at the most delicate creature the world has ever made.

“Ms Shin?”

You snap out of your thoughts. “Uh— yes, sir?”

“Thank you for worrying about me,” Taehyung says then, and you swear, he looks candid. “I mean— I know it’s kind of your job… Uh, just forget about it. I’ll be going now, I already sent for the car.”

“Don’t mention it,” you decide to reply with a smile just as tender and fix the shoulder of his coat.

The blush on his cheeks is most likely due to his cold, you think – there’s no reason why Kim Taehyung should be timid and demure in front of you. In fact, you don’t think he’s the kind of man to act like that, even if sometimes it feels like he is. He’s aloof, not coy, you think— he’s indifferent, not shy.

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you.” You step away to let him walk past you, and you say on his way out: “Get plenty of rest… and get well soon.”

You then watch him leave and head to the hall. There he meets Park Jimin. They push the button to get the lift when Jimin suddenly beckons you to come, and so you do, frowning in confusion.

“Yes?”

“I’ll be taking President Kim home, so… can I leave you in charge of the office while I get back?”

Oh, easy-peasy.

“Yes, of course,” you accept.

“Good, that’s a weight off my shoulders,” he thanks you. “Well, we better get going – Mrs Kim is going to force-feed you chicken soup when she gets back, and I don’t wanna be there when it happens.” You chuckle at his words, amused by the mental image of a burrito-wrapped Taehyung being fed against his will, and he sneers at his brother. “Have a good day.”

“See you on Monday!”

In charge of the office, huh? What could they possibly mean by that? Do you get to sit on the Big Girl chair and boss everyone around? Do you get to stick your nose into every single project and improve it with your outstanding mind? Oh, you have so many ideas—

Turns out that being in charge of the office just meant having to solve everyone’s problems.

Luckily, you love a good problem.

Your phone has been ringing non-stop from lunch to the very second the last person got up to go home; it’s nice to have your input so respected and valued. It’s good to be useful.

As always, you’re one of the last to leave the office. You say goodbye to the janitor and the secretaries at the entrance, swipe your badge and leave to head to the bus stop. It doesn’t take you longer than twenty minutes to get home, during which you also answer messages and work calls.

“Well, I do think President Kim should be the first to know,” you reply, closing the fridge door with your butt and opening a soda can. “Yeah, yeah, I totally get it— I know, I’m in— Jesus, just listen! I am in charge, but I do not have at all the authority to change from one project manager to another. You must get to Mr Kim, or your department chief— uh, yeah, I can call him, and so can you—”

After the beep, you look at the locked phone screen, totally shocked that she dared hang up on you.

“Bitch.”

You throw your phone on the bed and slump into the mattress right afterwards, eyes glued to the ceiling; that’s a problem – a problem that needs to be solved. Why are you feeling so wary of calling Kim Taehyung?

In a jiffy, you’re back on your feet and messing with the kitchenware, taking this and that, turning on the electric hob, pouring some water into a pot, and calling it a day.

You look at your soup with the eyes of a proud cook.

Yes, this will totally cover it. If you drop by his place with a bowl of bone broth, the perfect remedy for colds, it won’t look like you’re just coming to make him work. Besides, Taehyung was really ill, and you’re a bit worried; he won’t die, of course, but there’s a heavyweight in your chest that fills you with silly concern, making your belly flutter whenever you think about him.

Once you’re done, you grab your coat and go to your car, holding the warm plastic container in your hands, eyeing it with care. You’re not much of a cook yourself, so you wouldn’t want to trip and drop it, and have to make it all over again.

You hail a taxi once you stand on the street and tell the driver what the address is.

After about fifteen minutes, the taxi drives into the heart of the Hannam district and drops you at the door of a huge complex of luxury flats.

You pay under his curious gaze and thank him for the ride before heading inside; a friend of yours used to live here, but then she married and moved to her husband’s apartment. Maybe you could drop by and say hello, but Rose Apple wouldn’t like that, knowing how skittish she is about her privacy. At least the guard remembers your face, or so you find out when he nods at your ID as he lets you in.

After a few minutes, you manage to locate the Kim residence, wondering if Kim Taehyung actually lives with his family.

The loud ringing of the intercom makes you cringe.

“Hello?”

The camera turns around as it focuses on your face, and it fucking creeps you out.

“Uh, hello, this is—”

“O Y/N, isn’t it?” What? Who is this woman and how did she recognise you? “Don’t, I know this young lady— sorry, that was our housekeeper. I’ll open the gates, do come in!”

Without even telling what for? Jesus.

“Hm, thank you, madam.”

You walk into the pristine entrance hall and get on the lift, and soon enough, you’re stepping out into the living room; it’s modern and elegant, magazine-like, like your childhood home used to be. Clinical, lifeless, spotless, dignified.

An old woman, whom you quickly recognise as the housekeeper, greets you by the lift.

“Good evening, Miss O—”

“Please, just Y/N,” you rush to request with a shy gesture.

She nods. “Of course, Y/N-ssi— Mrs Kim would like to thank you for your visit and invite you to tea in the garden.”

“I’m, uh…” You take a look around as you follow her down the ample, radiant corridor. “I’m actually here to see Kim Taehyung? I brought him bone broth, a family recipe—” you murmur but quieten down as you notice the housekeeper’s confused look. “But, of course, I’d love to have some tea first.”

You’re led to a peaceful, traditional garden with a pond and a stone path. There’s a woman sitting quietly with a cup of tea in her hand, and she looks up at you as soon as you walk out into the garden.

“Oh, such a lovely surprise!” she says. “I wasn’t expecting you to visit, Ms O.”

“Actually—”

“How is your grandmother? Chairman O said you’d be out on holiday, for rest and relaxation and all that… How was Busan? It was Busan you went to, wasn’t it? – oh, please, take a seat— you see, I have a few relatives there, but it never is quite the right moment to pay them a visit.” Your phone suddenly rings in your purse, and you excuse yourself to take a look. “Is it work? Should I leave you alone?”

You shake your head with a polite smile. “Oh, it’s just—” The text is from your co-worker insisting that you make a choice. “Nothing important,” you say then, putting it back in. “I actually came to see—”

“Moooooom!”

A burrito-wrapped Kim Taehyung suddenly walks out into the garden, instantly shivering when the cold air sneaks into his pyjamas. His face is puffy, as well as his eyes and nose, and there’s a soft blush on his cheeks as he sniffles.

Then his eyes fall on you, and his entire demeanour changes.

Taehyung immediately looks away from you with one last sniff as he takes off the cover and folds it. “Mother, my health has improved significantly. I will be returning to the office shortly.”

“Aren’t you going to say hello? We have a visitor.”

“Ah, yes,” he murmurs. His hopes that you were a hallucination are broken. “Y/N-ssi, what are you… doing here?”

Mrs Kim merely rolls her eyes and beckons the housekeeper. The tea party soon is dismantled, and they both leave the two of you alone in the cold. You look away, suddenly taken over by an odd sense of embarrassment; you feel silly all of a sudden. You could have just sent him an email, there was no need for you to come all the way to his house.

“I brought you soup.”

He looks at you with a confused face, so you hand out the warm plastic bag to him; the plastic bowl is still hot on his palms, but Taehyung is still processing.

“I…” There it is, his customary blank face, but this time— the blush intensifies. “Thank you.”

You tilt your head. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Uh, yes, I think I’ll be back tomorrow,” Taehyung replies softly.

Silence takes over the two of you, and you take a look around, hugging your arms to fight the cold. He notices and yelps, “Sorry, I— should we go inside? You must be freezing out here. Uh— I’ll give this to Mrs Go.”

Shouldn’t he be concerned about his health first, though…? Rather than worrying about whether you feel cold, you think as you follow him into the house.

It makes you chuckle, somehow.

Taehyung leaves the bag on the kitchen counter and meets you in the ample living room; he catches you taking a look at some pictures, some even dating back to when he was a child. In one, he appears with another boy you think is Jimin, playing in the snow with folded arms and a grim face. Some with his parents, his younger siblings or friends, and some others where he does not appear. Decades of family history. And suddenly, you come across the image of Mr and Mrs Kim posing with your parents, and it makes your heart shrink.

“Y/N-ssi?”

You move away from the row of pictures and stand up. “Sorry, I was just looking.”

There are no comments from him, though; Taehyung is too busy staring at you in silence. You look away and suddenly remember why you’re actually here, so you shove your hand into your purse and take out the papers.

“Sir—? Actually, I came to see you about something else… I’m really sorry to bother you when you’re sick, but Mr Park left me in charge—”

“What?”

You shrug. “Uh, Park Jimin said I was in charge until you recovered, so Mr Lee called me and asked if it was possible—”

“I can’t believe it!” he grunts and takes out his phone. “He should’ve stayed since he was the one who insisted that I go home,” Taehyung continues, typing aggressively.

“I asked him to,” you cut him off with a guilty feeling in your chest. He stops typing and looks down at your hand on top of his. “You wouldn’t listen to me, so I asked Mr Park to persuade you to go home and rest. I don’t mind being in charge – I like it.”

Taehyung stifles a grin at the sound of you saying that you like being in charge, almost forgetting that his brother is a smartass and took advantage of the situation. Then you realise you’re still grasping his hand, and you jerk it away from him, mumbling an apology. You don’t know if his blush is due to the cold or something else.

“Tell him to email me, that’s not something—”

“Taetae! I’m leaving!”

The door opens, and Mrs Kim walks into the room as she puts on a pair of gloves.

“I see my son is in good hands,” the woman says. “Honestly, Taetae pretends to be carefree and easy, but he’s hardworking – sometimes even too much.”

“Mom, she’s not here to take care of me, don’t—”

“You better do everything Y/N-ssi does, huh?” his mother continues. “Since she was kind enough to drop by and bring her family broth. That’s a privilege, Taehyungie.”

You nod with a soft smile and bid her goodbye in the entrance hall as the housekeeper helps her into her sturdy winter coat. Taehyung murmurs a ‘goodbye’ next to you and turns around as soon as the door is shut closed.

“Taetae, huh?”

He gasps. “It’s a— it’s my nickname from when I was a child. Nobody calls me that anymore.”

“Really? That’s a shame,” you retort. “I think it’s cute.”

The silence in the room feels heavy on your shoulders as you look at each other. Taehyung is actually mortified at the mere idea that you might feel forced not only to stay but also to take care of your useless boss. The last thing he wants is to be a nuisance to you, he thinks as a coughing fit takes over him.

“You’re still too weak, Taehyung-ssi,” you say, putting your hand on his shoulder. “You’d better get back into bed.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, you can go home—”

But you take him by the shoulders with a big smile and exclaim, “It’s the least I could do for my boss. Now, go to bed! I’ll figure out how to heat up the broth, all right?”

Honestly, it’s not like you have anything else to do – you don’t really have a life outside your jobs, neither of them. They’ve taken away the good one, the one that makes you rich and privileged, so what else are you supposed to do? Go home and binge-watch a series just to get depressed on your uncomfy little bed while you devour a musty bag of crisps—? Not today.

As you watch Taehyung head back to his bedroom with the blanket folded around his arm and an unsure step, you finally relax; you would have never imagined that Mrs Kim would recognise you, but then again, it’s quite normal for any mother with a child of marriageable age to have complete control over the opposite gender population of his shared demographic. Your own grandmother knows the face of every single bachelor on the continent.

The microwave beeps, and you take the steaming bowl from inside.

You were lucky that things didn’t go wrong. Mrs Kim could very well have mentioned your real identity, or Kim Taehyung could have talked about work. That’s a weight off your chest, you guess.

“Fuck—!”

In a hurry, you leave the burning bowl on the worktop before it burns your fingers. You blow on them and turn on the cold water until the burning subsides, and then take the bowl away with a cloth. Now, where could be Kim Taehyung’s room? You didn’t think about that.

You’re too embarrassed to ask any of the staff, so you just wander around the house while the broth cools down.

After three restrooms, a pantry, and a cloakroom, you finally knock on a door and hear a weak ‘come in’. “It’s me,” you say, pressed against the door. “I— I can’t open by myself, could you—?”

Finally, the door opens.

“Sorry.”

Seeing you smile with the steamy bowl in your hands, Taehyung steps aside and lets you in. While you settle on a neat desk near his bed, he follows you closely and stands awkwardly by your side, waiting for you to say anything. He feels guilty enough that you’re wasting your free time taking care of him for some odd sense of responsibility of yours, and now he’s starting to feel guilty for enjoying your martyr-like company.

“Are you sure you don’t mind staying with me?”

You look up at him while setting the tray on the bedside table. “Uh, do you want me to leave?”

“No!” he rushes to say, and your stomach flutters. “No, I mean— I just don’t want you to feel forced to stay and look after your silly boss.”

You let out a chuckle.

“Believe me, sir, I wouldn’t be here if I—”

“Taehyung.” His voice makes you stop, almost making you drop the spoon as well. “Please, call me Taehyung, just Taehyung. If you don’t mind, of course,” he rushes to add at the sight of your wide-eyed bashfulness.

As soon as you’ve come around again, you nod slowly, murmuring that of course, you don’t mind calling him by his name. He can call you by yours as well, with a bit less formality if he wants. That’s all you say as you finish fixing the not-so-delicious-looking broth on the tray for him to put on his lap.

“Isn’t this awkward? For you, I mean,” Taehyung mumbles out of the blue.

You watch him get into bed. “What is?”

“I don’t know, seeing your boss in his pyjamas, seeing him stuffy, snotty. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate it. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about you being forced to just because my mother thought—”

“If you don’t feel comfortable with me here, just tell me,” you say. “But I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, and—” Maybe you’re just insisting too much on skirting the shore with indifferent formalities. Maybe that’s what’s making Kim Taehyung think he’s forcing you. So, you take a sit on the chair next to him and lean into him. “I’m very happy to look after you… Taehyung.”

He just stares at you, and you feel like an idiot for even speaking.

The thing is, you don’t notice the way Taehyung grips the edge of the blanket while his stomach flutters like crazy. You don’t notice him, but he feels the same kind of embarrassment towards himself for getting excited about such a silly thing.

But, then again, you’re very happy to take care of him, aren’t you? Didn’t you just say that?

“Smells good,” he blurts out, desperate to change the subject. “T-the broth, I mean— did you make it yourself?”

“It’s a family recipe,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles softly, almost tenderly, and then watches you raise the spoon on your way to feed him. His brain freezes immediately, arms fidgeting without a clue what to do – until you crack up a laugh.

“Come on, be a good boy and suck it up,” you insist.

He obediently sticks out his tongue and opens his mouth, and you have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together. As a result, you shove the spoon into his mouth.

“Fuck, sorry!” Taehyung keeps coughing with a grimace. “I’m sorry, Taehyung, really! Are you—”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he murmurs, still frowning in disgust.

You let out a relieved sigh and put the bowl aside to inspect the spilt broth on his pyjama shirt; the greasy liquid has stained its neck, advancing through the fabric. You click your tongue and grab the cloth to wipe it, but this only spreads the stain. You’re starting to panic when you feel him shake, and when you look up, you realise he’s laughing.

“I thought I’d hurt you,” you groan as you throw the cloth on the table. “Since you were making faces…”

“I’m okay.”

“Is it hot?”

His eyes soften. “A bit.”

You get up, but only to move the armchair closer to his bed. You blow on the next spoonful before feeding him the spoon this time. There is no need to comment on the fact that his arms work perfectly and that you’ve been spoon-feeding him by instinct.

“Thank you,” he murmurs before taking it into his mouth and swallowing.

Taehyung grimaces again when the strong, bitter flavour kicks his tastebuds but rushes to soften his face.

“Don’t pretend it’s good,” you tell him off with a genuinely amused chuckle, drawing away the spoon, “I know it’s disgusting. It’s supposed to be bad.”

With this new info, he finds it easier to finish the broth.

You chat about trifles for a while longer, telling him what’s been going on in the office while he’s been away, and discussing the big project that’s been on everyone’s mind lately. The launch is barely a week away and there is still a lot to do; especially now that everyone is coming to you for answers and guidance. Luckily, that is your major asset.

“You look sleepy,” you whisper. Taehyung is barely able to keep his eyes half-open. “Get some sleep, I’ll clear this up.”

You get up and start stacking the bowl with the chopsticks and the herd of empty glasses he has accumulated on the bedside table throughout the day. With it in your arms, you quietly leave his bedroom, meeting the housekeeper, who kindly takes it to the kitchen. Now, bored and with nothing to do – because watching Taehyung sleep seems to cross a line – you wander around the house.

The entrance door closes suddenly.

“Y/N-ssi?”

Park Jimin is standing in the middle of the living room as he walks in, dusting the hoarfrost off the sleeves of his thick coat. He’s just as surprised to see you there.

“You really are a stickler.” Jimin is the first to speak. “Did you come to talk about the project? I’ve already discussed it with—”

“I came to see how President Kim was doing.”

“Oh, I see…” he murmurs, still grinning. “How did you find him?”

“Better than this morning. He’s eaten and taken some medicine, and now he’s asleep. I was just stretching my legs,” you say, looking down at your feet. It does feel like you’ve run a marathon.

“Are you after his money?”

You turn around, quiet, as he takes off his scarf and crosses the room, giving you a side-eyed glance.

But the idea is so far-fetched that it doesn’t even offend you. “I actually prefer to make my own money, sir,” you reply.

“I know you’re not,” Jimin suddenly says as he stops right in front of you. For some reason, you don’t feel the need to fight him on this – since you’re pretty positive you don’t need any man’s cash. “Sorry if I upset you, I was just pulling your leg.”

“You care about him,” you say with a soft smile.

“He’s my brother.”

Jimin then looks at you in silence, and he tries to say something else, you can tell he does before the housekeeper bursts into the living room, wanting to know who has just arrived. Surprisingly, her body goes stiff as soon as Park Jimin enters her visual field, and the woman bows her head with little enthusiasm or even respect.

“Miss—”

“I’d better go now that Mr Park has arrived to look after Taehyung, I guess,” you blurt out, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I’m not here to stay,” Jimin says, glancing at the housekeeper. “Don’t worry, madam. I just popped in to drop off some snacks for Tae. I know Mrs Kim doesn’t like him to—”

“Mrs Kim knows how to take care of her son, sir.”

Jimin sighs and lowers his voice, “You don’t mind staying a bit longer, do you? I don’t like leaving Taehyung alone with her.” You nod at his words and take the plastic bag he hands you before wrapping his scarf back around his neck. “Thank you, Y/N-ssi.”

You watch Mrs Go carefully on Park Jimin’s way out; you notice her contracted, almost contemptuous face, and how she does not relax until the man disappears through the door.

By the time Taehyung is back in the waking world, his bedroom is awash in the amber light of dusk. Everything is utterly silent, even the city seen through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Then he notices a pressure on his left arm, and he finds you asleep over him, your body rising and falling quietly.

You’re a hard worker, he can totally give you that. Maybe he allowed you to overwork yourself.

You are a very peculiar woman, he is sure of that; diligent and intelligent, but also secretly sweet. Although he is somewhat embarrassed to talk about himself like this, his surroundings have always taught him that most people, especially attractive women, would approach him to take advantage of him, his money, or his position. But you, on the contrary— you’re too straightforward, too abrasive to be one of those people, aren’t you?

Maybe he went out of his mind thinking that you like him.

Ah, silly, silly Taehyung, soft-hearted Kim Taehyung, like his aunt used to say. Some things never change, no matter how hard he tries to become colder. He was a silly boy, and now he’s a silly man.

His hand moves on its own when a strand of your hair slides down your cheek, brushing it behind your ear with his thumb. Your skin feels warm.

You’re his secretary, for God’s sake. He can’t be that stupid – he can’t stoop that low.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

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