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oliverreedmasterass · 1 year

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Starcatchers 1x2 - Waited All Your Life

Synopsis: In the second episode of Starcatchers, the members of Greta Van Fleet deal with loss: Josh loses his beloved notebook (which Sam attempts to find) and Jake and Danny get hopelessly lost in the woods.

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: reference to cannibalism, sad Josh, Jake not Respecting the Pouch™, Bigfoot, the Kraken

Notes: EVERYONE GIVE ALEX (@jmkho) SO MUCH LOVE FOR THE TITLE AND ADDISON (@starcatcherkiszka) FOR THE ORIGINAL IDEA!!! 🫶🫶🫶

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Josh wakes up in a well-kept, rustic-themed bedroom with a deep yawn and a wide smile. Sunlight floods in through the windows and birds can be heard in the distance singing their morning songs. Josh carefully folds his sheets down to his feet, revealing a fancy pair of silk pajamas, and slides out of bed to admire the stunning view of the Great Smoky Mountains. In high spirits, Josh begins to whistle along with the birds, joining their jovial songs. He’s basically a Disney princess.

Across the hall Jake’s alarm goes off, playing a loud guitar solo that may or may not be something he recorded himself. Jake is laying on the wrong end of his bed, so his foot slams down on his phone like it’s an actual alarm clock. This does nothing to turn the phone off. Despite this, Jake continues to bang his foot on the phone before eventually giving up and kicking it against the wall, cutting off the sound. Jake lets out a deep groan and curls up under his covers, like a dragon retreating into his cave.

Next door Danny is startled awake by Jake’s rattling snores. He glares at the wall and attempts to press his pillow over his head to drown out the sound, to no avail. Danny huffs, rolls out of bed, and raps his fist on the wall a couple of times. This only makes Jake snore louder. Danny lets out a frustrated groan, and scans around his room. A clock reveals that it is 6am. Danny perks up with a revelation and hustles to his backpack, where he pulls out his pair of in-ears. He pops them in and happily falls back asleep.

Down the hall from Danny, Sam is nowhere to be found in his room. The camera pans around in confusion, trying to find him. It eventually lands on him, standing upright and stiff as a board on the balcony wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks, goggles, and flippers. The camera moves closer and it becomes evident that he is sleep-talking.

SAM: I’m ready to fight the Kraken. Put me in, coach, I wanna bop ‘im in the schnoz.

Sam gives a few half-assed punches as he continues to sleep.

JOSH: [singing loudly as he passes down the hallway] Rise and shine! Adventure awaits, boys!

Groans sound from all of the rooms except for Sam’s.

SAM: The only thing that will rise is my fist to your face, tentacle boy!

Starcatchers Theme/Opening Titles

[acoustic theme song with a harmonica]

From the fires we emerged anew,

Singing, playing rock and roll,

Reviving a genre just for you.

Across the globe we traveled far

Recruiting an army of peace,

Enchanting crowds with our guitar.

A battle ensued at the Gardens Gate

And we preserved the gift of nature,

Standing up against a culture of hate.

We are the Starcatchers, reaching for the sky,

Discovering words of wisdom to live by.

We deliver a message from the heavens above:

Live your legend through the intelligence of love.

[end theme]

The members of Greta Van Fleet sit around the dining room table, sipping Capri Sun pouches.

JAKE: You need to stop eating chocolate before you go to bed, Sam.

SAM: I don’t think chocolate is what’s making these dreams so realistic.

JOSH: You’re right, there has to be something seriously wrong with you. I mean, who gears up for a scuba expedition and sleeps standing upright for 7 hours?

DANNY: Your brother does, that’s who.

SAM: (into his pouch) It made sense at the time.

JAKE: I’m sure it did, Sammy. (around to the rest of the table) We’ve got a big day ahead of us, Van Fleeters.

DANNY: I thought we agreed we weren’t gonna call each other that.

JAKE: It’s cool.

JOSH: I, for one, hate it. It sounds like we’re afraid of vans.

SAM: Wouldn’t be too far off for you with your eighteen wheelers though, would it, Josh?

JOSH: Quiet…

JAKE: (ignoring the banter) We have to get another song down in the books by the end of the week, otherwise we’re gonna get in trouble with “The Man.” At least, that’s what our manager told me. Could be the Kool Aid Man, could be Iron Man, I don’t know, but it didn’t sound good.

JOSH: Well I, for one, have to design all of my jumpsuits for our next tour. I’ve seen some stunning visions in my dreams that I’m looking forward to bringing to life.

SAM: Were you, by chance, standing when you had those dreams?

DANNY: I think we might need to start strapping you into your bed at night, Sam.

Sam looks like he isn’t entirely opposed to that idea. Danny looks at him in disbelief. He was joking.

JOSH: Actually, I should probably sketch one of them out now while it’s still fresh in my mind. It’s a jumpsuit for you, Jake! I think you’ll love it.

JAKE: (darkly) I doubt it.

JOSH: I’m gonna grab my notebook!

Josh jumps from his seat and does a cartwheel out of the room.

SAM: I think you would look good in a jumpsuit, Jake.

JAKE: I think you would look good with my foot up your butt, Sam.

DANNY: That’s a terrible comeback, Jake.

From the next room over, Josh lets out an agonizing shriek, as if he just discovered Mr. Boddy dead in the study with a lead pipe. Jake, Sam, and Danny hurry to find Josh on his knees in the center of the living room, clutching at his face in despair.

SAM: Oh god, did Rosie piss buckets in your slippers again?

JOSH: (whimpering) It’s my notebook.

DANNY: You lost it?

Josh nods his head sadly.

JAKE: You hardly looked for it, dude.

JOSH: I have a photographic memory. I vividly recall placing it on that table right there last night before I went to bed.

Josh points at the coffee table next to him. It’s empty, with the exception of a few Capri Sun pouches sucked dry, Rosie’s leash, and a Bop It. Jake absently grabs the Bop It and starts to play with it while Josh continues to wallow in his misery.

DANNY: We’re the only ones who have been here, Josh. Are you sure you didn’t put it somewhere else?

BOP IT: Twist it!

Jake twists the Bop It as he moves to the beat of the canned music.

SAM: (suddenly wearing a Sherlock Holmes-esque hat with a pipe and magnifying glass) No need to fear, dear civilian, this is a case for Detective Kiszka to crack open, just like a cold one.

BOP IT: Pull it!

Jake pulls the Bop It.

JAKE: Yoink!

SAM: (continuing) I’ve cleared the JFK assassination case, I proved that the moon landing was fake, my list of accolades extends farther than the eye can see.

The camera zooms in on Danny, who is rolling his eyes in the background.

BOP IT: Bop it!

Jake slams his hand on the center button of the Bop It.

JAKE: That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

SAM: (to Josh) When your grief subsides, poor soul, I would love to meet over tea so we can discuss your relationship to this notebook, and your speculations as to where it could have gone.

Josh gives a shrug.

JOSH: You can pencil me in for after 7 today.

Sam nods with understanding and pulls a ballpoint pen from his back pocket, licking its tip before writing a note on the back of his hand. Just visible on his hand is the note, Meet w/ crybaby @ 7.

BOP IT: Pull it!

JAKE: (in the background) Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh!

SAM: I’ve got you booked to find your notebook. Or, notebooked to find your notebook.

As Sam talks, the camera focuses on his tongue, which now has a massive blue ink splotch in the center of it. He’s one hell of a detective.

JOSH: I’ll have you know I didn’t find that funny at all, Detective Kiszka.

BOP IT: Twist it! Bop it! Pull it!

Jake is actually kind of nailing the Bop It. Even though Josh is still beside himself, he joins Sam and Danny as they watch Jake.

BOP IT: (faster) Pull it! Bop it! Twist it! Bop it! Pull it! Pull it! Pull it!

JAKE: What the?

BOP IT: Pull it! Pull it! Pull it!

DANNY: Dude, I think you broke my Bop It.

BOP IT: Pull it! Pull it! Pull it!

JAKE: It’s a trick, he’s trying to throw me off guard.

BOP IT: Pull it! Pull it! [beat] Bop it!

JAKE: HA! You can’t fool me, tiny man!

SAM: (holding his magnifying glass up to Jake) Tiny man?

JAKE: (still playing with the Bop It) Yeah, the tiny guy who lives inside this toy and tells me what to do next.

Sam, Danny, and Josh stare blankly at one another. It’s apparent they are all hoping Jake is kidding. Jake focuses back on the toy, indicating that he was, in fact, not kidding.

BOP IT: Bop it!

JAKE: I met him in a dream once. His name is Fergus.

SAM: When you woke up from that dream, were you standing, by any chance?

DANNY: Again, Sam, I think that’s a “you” problem.

Sam slumps his shoulders. Across the room, Josh has thrown himself dramatically on the carpeted floor, holding the back of his hand up to his forehead in exasperation.

JOSH: Oh, my dear notebook! What am I supposed to do? That’s where I keep all my sketches and lyrics, I’m nothing without it!

DANNY: How about this? I’ll go and grab us all a nice breakfast to try and get this day back on track so we can work on that song. Jake, you’re coming with me.

BOP IT: Twist it!

JAKE: (under breath to himself) Aw yeah. [beat] Wait, why me?

DANNY: Sam needs some space to do his detective work.

Danny winks at Sam, who brightens at his suggestion. Detective Kiszka is about to be on the case, and whoo boy, is he gonna sleuth hard.

JAKE: (saluting) Aye aye, captain.

BOP IT: Twist it!

Jake twists the Bop It and the camera zooms in on the center of the toy, zooming back out to reveal that the Bop It is still in Jake’s hands as he sits in the backseat of Danny’s car while Danny drives.

JAKE: I think I’m gonna beat my high score of 12.

Jake continues playing. Please take note that, for the rest of the script (until noted) Jake will be playing the Bop It with the sound in the background of all conversations.

DANNY: Trust me, I think you’re far past that.

JAKE: Boy, I hope so.

DANNY: I hate to ask this, but could you navigate for me? I would, but my GPS is broken and I don’t know how to get out of the woods to the grocery store.

JAKE: Hmm? Oh yeah, for sure.

DANNY: I was thinking of grabbing some Pop Tarts to lift Josh’s mood.

Jake completes a really challenging pattern on the Bop It.

JAKE: Yes!

DANNY: I’m glad you agree. So should I turn up here?

Jake once again revels in his success with the Bop It. He’s really on a roll now.

JAKE: YES!

DANNY: I love the enthusiasm.

Danny turns the steering wheel and an overhead shot shows Danny’s car driving down a long and rural dirt road. That shot matches a painting of a similar landscape hanging on the wall of the cabin’s living room, where Sam and Josh are sitting. Sam is still equipped with his detective gear while Josh sits with an oversized fuzzy blanket wrapped around him.

SAM: I’m going to ask you a few questions. You may find some to be a tad bit invasive, but I ask that you answer them with as much detail and transparency as you can afford.

JOSH: (sniffling) I’ll try my best, Detective.

SAM: First, do you believe dreams can serve as portals to other dimensions?

JOSH: Uh, what does that have to do with my notebook?

SAM: Nothing, it’s just something that’s been troubling me lately. When I woke up this morning, I was soaked wet.

JOSH: Maybe Rosie isn’t the only one who pisses buckets?

Sam chooses to ignore Josh’s comment.

SAM: Anyways, when was the last time you saw your notebook? Give me the exact time: this is crucial so I can study the moon charts to get more clues.

JOSH: I would say 10:48.

Sam writes this note down on his hand, below his note about Josh’s appointment time, which is already smudged.

SAM: Why, might you presume, would someone be motivated to take your notebook?

JOSH: I have some pretty cool drawings in there, I guess. My shading has gotten really good in the past year.

SAM: Yeah, it has. Now, sir, is there anyone who you might suspect would go out of their way to cause you harm, such as stealing your own personal possessions?

JOSH: Well, Jake can be mean sometimes.

SAM: Has he shown any signs of hostility towards you recently?

Josh has a flashback of Jake sucking down a Capri Sun the day before, blowing it back up through the straw, and putting the pouch on the floor in front of his raised foot. Josh screams at him in terror that he has to Respect the Pouch™, but Jake gives him a devious grin and slams his foot down, creating a deafening popping sound. Josh shrieks and flails for cover, only peeking from behind the couch when he thinks the coast is clear. Jake is unscathed, laughing hard at Josh.

JOSH: Not more than usual.

SAM: Is there anyone else you can think of?

JOSH: Not really. I’m a pretty likable person. I’ve been told that I have the personality of a cult leader.

Sam nods. Josh has a point.

SAM: Well, that should do it for my questioning. I’ll start to investigate the perimeter while my highly intellectual brain fits the pieces of this puzzle together.

JOSH: Huh, that was fast.

Sam leaves Josh to head outside so his investigation can commence. As Sam opens and shuts the front door, Danny does the same with his car, out in the middle of literally nowhere.

DANNY: (on the brink of panicking, calling back to Jake, who is still in the backseat) I thought you were gonna give me directions?

Jake is still fully engaged in the Bop It.

JAKE: Huh?

DANNY: Directions, Jake! Directions! You told me yes when I asked you if I should turn, and now we’re out in the middle of nowhere!

BOP IT: Pull it!

Jake pulls the Bop It.

JAKE: Yes.

Danny pulls out his phone to try and call Sam, but then squints down at the screen. He has no service. He groans and gets back in the car and tries to start the engine, but it stalls and then pitters out.

DANNY: Oh my god. This is bad, this is really, really bad. Jake, do you have your phone on you?

JAKE: Nope. Left it at the cabin.

BOP IT: Twist it!

Danny clutches at his head in despair and jumps out from the front seat, taking a lap around his car, looking at the area surrounding them. It’s a lot of trees, and not a whole lot of grocery stores.

DANNY: We can’t be that far away from the cabin. We’ve only been driving for (checks his watch and then pales) thirty minutes.

JAKE: Maybe Fergus can tell us what we need to do.

BOP IT: Bop it!

JAKE: You gotta bop it.

DANNY: I literally have no clue what that means.

JAKE: Just, you know, bop it.

Danny falls back on his butt in the dirt and looks up at the tree tops and the blue sky ahead in disbelief. Things aren’t looking great as far as their survival is concerned. Danny throws his back on the ground with a loud thud. In a matching shot, Sam’s bare feet thump over the dirt in the front yard of their rented cabin. Sam is scanning obscure things like wild mushrooms and snails with his magnifying glass, as if that is going to get him closer to solving the mystery of the missing notebook. Behind him, Josh sits on the steps, wearing oversized sunglasses to hide his tears while theatrically blowing his nose. Sam plods back to Josh’s side.

SAM: We’ve got a suspect.

JOSH: By all means, tell me the criminal’s name so I can smack ‘im up Philly style.

SAM: I don’t know how you know what “Philly style” means, but it’s in my code of conduct that my clients can’t smack up anyone until the case is closed. You’d be surprised how many innocent people get whapped upside the head with no just cause.

Josh nods, like he follows Sam (he doesn’t).

SAM: (continued) My speculation may surprise you, but I promise it has merit. (long pause) I believe Bigfoot may have taken your notebook.

Sam pulls out his phone to play a sound byte of dramatic music.

JOSH: (standing to his feet to head back inside) That’s crazy talk.

SAM: No, no, come down here, you have to see this.

With interest, Josh comes down the steps to join Sam’s side. Sam is proudly “smoking” his pipe by blowing into it, making the oregano he packed inside shoot everywhere, and nods his head down at the ground next to him. Josh studies two relatively large sized footprints. His eyes then track to Sam’s bare feet.

JOSH: Detective Kiszka, I don’t know how to phrase this in a way that won’t come off as offensive to you, but I believe those footprints belong to your own dogs.

Sam removes the pipe from his mouth in shock and squats down to rub the dirt from the footprints beneath his fingers, taking a quick taste. Josh looks disgusted.

SAM: Hmm. So it is. Great detective work. Well, we can put Bigfoot on the back burner then. But I still think there’s more here than meets the eye. The pieces just aren’t fitting together.

JOSH: (to himself) You’re telling me.

SAM: I need to get a visual on this case. Inside!

Sam runs inside the cabin with Josh trudging behind him. The camera travels back outside the cabin, zooming across treetops until it finds Danny and Jake. Jake is still playing with the Bop It, now sitting up in a tree, while Danny films himself as he squats by a pile of sticks next to his car.

DANNY: Hour 1 in desolation wilderness: no service, the car is broken, and we’re hopelessly lost. This video is for A24 to make an experimental documentary about my life, starring Alex Wolff. If anyone finds this, please tell my family that I love them. Now, one of the things that I learned as a cub scout is, in order to survive, you need a massive bonfire to scare away predators.

Danny grabs two decent-sized sticks and starts rubbing them together. Out of habit, the rubbing eventually morphs into him air drumming with the sticks. It takes Danny a while to realize what he's been doing, but when he does, he scolds himself and then tries to rub them together again. Faster this time around he starts air drumming again. He throws the sticks over his shoulder in frustration.

DANNY: Maybe I’d be better off foraging some food for Jake and I.

Danny grabs his camera from the ground and holds it at an angle under his chin as he takes a few steps into the woods, away from the car.

JAKE: (calling from his tree) Hey! Where are you going?

DANNY: To get food!

JAKE: Can you get me a pickle?

DANNY: (to the camera) I’m ignoring that.

Danny films himself looking through various plants in the area, including some stuff that looks poisonous, and stops, staring at something off screen in confusion. He silently flips the camera around and zooms in on a pickle in mint condition that’s chilling on the ground. Danny cautiously grabs the pickle, wipes it off on his pants, and approaches the base of Jake’s tree.

DANNY: Here, catch!

Jake isn’t seen on screen but, in between the sounds of the Bop It, he catches the pickle.

JAKE: Comin in clutch, Swaggy Waggy!

Danny returns to addressing the camera.

DANNY: Morale is high, the sun will be out for a while longer, I’m optimistic that we can make it through this tribulation.

BOP IT: Bop it!

Danny turns off the video on his camera. The scene jumps to the cabin, where Sam is holding Jake’s phone with a shattered screen in his hand, searching for a photo of Danny on Google. He selects the first image suggested, zooms in close on Danny’s face, and then proceeds to stick Jake’s phone to the cabin wall with some heavy duty duct tape. Josh stands just behind Sam, studying his evidence board. Alongside the phone, there is a copy of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End nailed to the wall, poorly drawn photos of Josh and Bigfoot, and “Bookie Wookie” written on a post-it note. For some reason, there is also a banana nailed to the wall. Sam holds up George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass album and is about to add it to the board.

JOSH: Don’t tell me you’re actually gonna nail Jake’s album to the wall.

SAM: It’s supposed to be me.

Sam ignores Josh’s protest and proceeds to pound a nail through the album cover with a hammer while Josh watches in horror. Sam has been chewing an impressive glob of gum while he works, and takes a break to remove it from his mouth, pulling it out in a disgustingly long string.

SAM: So you and I both have alibis because the notebook belongs to you, and I’m helping you find it.

Sam makes a show of putting “X’s” over George Harrison and Josh’s faces with the gum. Josh watches his younger brother with judgment stretched across his face.

SAM: Which leaves Jake and Danny as potential suspects. I’ll have to interrogate them when they’re back.

JOSH: You know, they’ve been gone for a while.

SAM: (ignoring Josh) If I had to speculate, I would say Jake may have taken it as a prank. Danny is harder to read, though. I’m not sure what his motive would be. That guy is hard to read. I’m keeping Bigfoot here as well because my tummy told me to.

Sam creates lines between Danny, Jake, Bigfoot, and the notebook.

JOSH: What’s up with the banana?

SAM: Oh, that’s if I get hungry later.

JOSH: Oh.

SAM: I wish there was more evidence I could work with. This case is a lot more complicated than I thought it would be.

Sam wipes his face.

SAM: I must retreat to my study to ponder this in more detail. You’ll have to excuse me.

Sam hurries out of the living room to his bedroom. Josh watches him go, and then throws himself onto one of the living room chairs with a deep sigh. It’s obvious the absence of his beloved notebook is really starting to wear on him. With a match cut, Danny is also sighing loud, filming another video of himself.

DANNY: 1 hour and 7 minutes in desolation wilderness. Our chances of survival are growing slimmer by the second.

Jump cut to Jake chilling up in his tree with a bunch of squirrels and birds invested in his game as he continues playing with the Bop It at an impressive speed. He’s happily crunching on his pickle.

DANNY: (continued) There is no sign of life, no saving grace for me or my friend. I can feel the delusions kicking in. I thought I saw Pitbull a few minutes ago. (Danny turns around briefly to call off into the distance) Dale? (Facing the camera again) I also think that I might have a rash.

Danny shows off his arm to the camera. The guy most definitely got caught in some poison ivy during his foraging.

DANNY: (continued) Outside of Jake’s pickle, I’ve only found twigs and worms to eat. The worms are edible as long as you gaslight yourself into thinking you’re eating cold spaghetti. It would probably be better with a dash of salt and pepper, but I’m working with what I’ve got. Though I have to admit, if we’re stuck out here much longer, I might have to make the choice between facing my own mortality and eating Jake. I’m not sure which decision I’ll make, but I’m not gonna deny that Jake looks pretty tasty right now.

The Bop It is still heard loud and clear in the background. It’s going so fast at this point that Jake is moving like lightning. It’s like he’s predicting each command before it comes from Fergus. Danny looks up at Jake and shakes his head, turning the video off. Jake is entirely in the zone, but then Fergus’ voice starts to get slower and deeper. Jake frowns down at the toy.

JAKE: Fergus? Are you drunk?

BOP IT: (in a demonic growl) Pullllll itttttttt…twistttt ittttttttt…..booopppppppppppppppp itttttttttttttttttt.

The Bop It dies.

JAKE: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! FERGUS!

Jake jumps down from the tree and sinks to his knees, cradling the Bop It in his arms.

JAKE: Say something to me, anything!

The Bop It is still dead.

DANNY: I think the batteries drained, dude.

JAKE: We have to go to the store.

DANNY: Yeah, I want to go there too, trust me, but, uh, that’s not really possible right now.

Jake snaps his head up to study Danny. It’s as if he finally realizes where they are. Jake looks closer at Danny, covered in rashes, his hair matted, and his clothes in tatters. Jake cocks his head to the side. He obviously hasn’t been paying attention for the past 1 hour and 9 minutes.

DANNY: (continued) We’re lost, the car isn’t turning on, and I have no service.

JAKE: I’ll get us out of here.

DANNY: I’ve tried. I don’t think you’re gonna pull it off.

Jake is already in the front seat of Danny’s car, messing with the controls. Within 15 seconds, the car is back on and running.

DANNY: (under breath) What the?

JAKE: (popping his head out of the window) You turned off the car while it was still in drive! You just have to put it in park and then it won’t stall.

DANNY: You’ve got to be kidding me.

Jake leans on the horn a couple of times, and Danny takes his cue, getting into the passenger seat. Jake hands Danny his Bop It like it’s a newborn child.

JAKE: Can you please take care of this for me?

DANNY: Yeah, sure.

JAKE: Alright, grocery store, here we come!

DANNY: How do you know where you’re going?

JAKE: The birds are gonna help us.

DANNY: The birds?

Jake whistles and a flock of robins swarm the car, chirping warmly at Jake. Jake motions for them to go, and they lead the way. With a squeal of the tires, Jake powers after them. The car passes across the screen, acting as a wipe transition so the camera is now in Sam’s “study”. He paces back and forth at the foot of his bed, tapping his chin with the handle of his magnifying glass.

SAM: The notebook couldn’t have moved on its own because it is an inanimate object. It is not physically possible for notebooks to grow legs and move, or to creep like a snake or a worm. It had to be moved by the hand of a perpetrator. Their intent had to be sinister. The notebook could be hiding somewhere within this cabin, taken somewhere off the premises, or it could be destroyed. No viable fingerprints or footprints have been recovered. Not a single clue has led me in the right direction. It was on a table, and now it isn’t. Maybe it went where all my socks go when I put them in the dryer.

Sam looks like he could believe this explanation, but then his eyes track to the balcony connected to his room. Sam suddenly has a deep frown on his face.

SAM: Oh no.

Sam has a quick flashback to the night before, when he was sleepwalking on the balcony, dressed in scuba gear. In his left hand he clutches Josh’s notebook and a pen.

SAM: (back in reality) Oh god!

Sam rushes onto the balcony and grabs the discarded notebook, which is flopped partially open on the wooden boards. Sam flips through some of the pages and lets out a gasp. His messy handwriting is sprawled over a lot of Josh’s sketches and lyrics. Sam squints closer at what he wrote on one of the pages.

SAM: (reading aloud) 18 August 1682: The curs'd Kraken may destroyeth mine own ship, but that gent shall nev'r destroye mine own will to pow'r f'rward. Yond tenticl'd beast shall one day crumble in mine own grasp.

JOSH: (outside Sam’s closed door) Everything okay in there, Detective?

Sam slams the notebook shut in fear.

SAM: Oh no. I need to hide this thing. (Calling to Josh) Peachy, my good sir!

Sam looks back down at the notebook in terror. A similar look of terror is plastered on Danny’s face as he sits in the passenger seat of his car, grasping onto the grab handle. The birds are still guiding the car, and Jake speeds through the wooded area, just barely dodging boulders and trees. Danny lets out a shrill shriek as Jake comes flying out of nowhere onto a country road, nearly t-boning a passing car in the process. He skids over into oncoming traffic and then veers the car back in the right lane, speeding up significantly so the engine dangerously revs. An instrumental version of Safari Song blares through the radio.

DANNY: (calling over the music) You wanna slow down a bit?

Jake ignores Danny and steps on the gas pedal, sending them flying down the road at an even faster speed. They shoot past a cop who aims a radar gun at Danny’s car. The cop looks down at the speed and whistles.

COP: There’s no way I’m catching that guy.

Jake’s driving would cause a driving instructor to have a mental breakdown. He speeds up at turns, cuts people off left and right, and passes cars using the shoulder of the road. At one point he starts doing donuts in the middle of the highway, just for the hell of it. In spite of all his shenanigans, he looks through the windshield with a look of determination. The guy needs his batteries.

JAKE: (conversationally) Do you think the game saved before Fergus died?

Jake is driving in between lanes now, somehow squeaking between two semi-trucks. Danny lets out a squeak, but offers a shrug.

JAKE: (continued) I think I would fall into a bottomless pit of despair if it didn’t save.

Jake looks back at the road ahead of him and speeds forward, breaking out of the confines of the two massive trucks. Danny lets out a sigh of relief which almost immediately becomes hitched in his throat again when Jake cuts across 5 lanes of traffic and takes out a sign, exiting the highway.

JAKE: I nearly missed my exit!

DANNY: (choking on his words) Thank god you didn’t.

JAKE: You know, Josh and Sam are always telling me I should hand my driver’s license back to the DMV, but I don’t know what they’re talking about. I’m a safe driver.

Within that span of dialogue, Jake has run through 3 stoplights, driven on a sidewalk (nearly hitting an elderly woman), and taken out a mailbox.

DANNY: Oh yeah, you definitely are.

On the downlow, Danny pulls back out his phone and starts filming another survival diary.

DANNY: (to his phone) I may not make it out of this car alive. If anyone finds this footage, please tell Taylor Swift I think she’s great. And, if Jake manages to walk away from this one alive, never let him get behind the steering wheel again. Ever.

JAKE: (looking directly at Danny and not the road, where he has run another stoplight and caused a massive pile up.) Who are you talking to? Josh and Sam?

DANNY: My beneficiaries.

JAKE: Fun!

Jake hits a fire hydrant which immediately starts shooting out a geyser of water.

JAKE: I think we’ll park here.

Danny sits in stunned silence with the airbag deployed in his face but, without a word, he untangles himself from his seatbelt and gets out of the car alongside Jake. They start to walk towards the grocery store across the street. In the background a firetruck and a few cop cars arrive at the scene of Jake’s accident in a rush. The firemen and cops are standing around in confusion, scratching their heads at the abandoned car.

JAKE: (pumping his fist in the air) Let’s find my batteries!

JOSH: (calling through the door to Sam) Did you find my notebook?

Sam panics and shoves Josh’s notebook down the front of his shirt and opens his door to face Josh.

SAM: No, of course not! Why would I find it in my study? That's ridiculous!

Josh eyes the notebook-shaped bulge around Sam’s stomach and then squints at him.

JOSH: Okay…what’s the plan now, Detective?

SAM: We, uh, get you a complimentary drink first to drown your sorrows! Why don’t you start to fix yourself something nice, and I’ll be there in a second. I, uh, have to scratch my butt really fast.

JOSH: TMI, dude.

Josh leaves Sam alone and heads for the kitchen. Sam breathes out a sigh of relief and removes the notebook from under his shirt. He scans around the living room and decides to place it back on the table, where Josh said he had last left it. Suddenly, Josh jumps back into the room, pointing at Sam, who has been caught in the act.

JOSH: AHA!!!

SAM: (voice cracking) Josh?! It’s not what you think!

Josh breaks the glass bottle he was holding to pour himself some lemonade and rushes to Sam, holding the broken bottle up towards his neck.

JOSH: (growling) You wanna tell me what’s going on here, Sammy boy?

SAM: I really don’t.

Josh moves the bottle closer to Sam.

SAM: No, no, no, I’m allergic to lemons.

JOSH: You’re literally not.

SAM: Please! I have a wife and children! They’re dependents on my healthcare plan; how will they get their annual physicals if I’m gone?

As Sam is blubbering nonsense, Jake and Danny enter back into the cabin, Danny with a bunch of Pop Tarts boxes, and Jake back to playing his Bop It. Based on the speed the game is at, it appears that it actually did save where he was at before it died. Danny drops the Pop Tarts when he sees Josh holding a broken bottle up to a crying Sam.

DANNY: Hey! What’s going on?

Josh lowers the bottle in shock when he sees Danny. Danny looks as if he made it to the final round of Survivor. His face and arms are covered in dirt, stray leaves, twigs, and rashes. His shirt and shorts are in tatters. One of his shoes is gone, and his hair looks like he got electrocuted. In comparison, Jake looks unscathed.

JOSH: I should be asking you the same thing, Danny. Did you take a wrong turn and fall off the side of a mountain on your way to the store?

DANNY: (grumbling) Something like that.

Sam takes Josh’s distraction as an opportunity to plant the notebook back on the table, out of his hands. Although he still seems shaken up, he tries to get back into his Detective character.

SAM: By George! It’s a miracle! The notebook is exactly where you left it last night at 10:48! The mystery is solved! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go somewhere very, very far away from here to, uh, register Rosie to vote.

JAKE: You can’t go, Sam, we got Bop Tarts. Oops. Pop Tarts.

BOP IT: Bop it!

JOSH: Not so fast, Samuel.

Josh picks up the notebook and flips through the pages. His face falls. Sam winces, bracing himself for the worst. Josh is still holding the broken bottle in his hand, and Sam has a bad feeling he knows how to use it.

JOSH: (reading one of Sam’s added entries) 21 August 1682: The Kraken consumed mine own first mateth in one biteth. The screams w're deafening and I feareth I shall nev'r catch but a wink a soundeth night again. I holidam to avenge mine own mateth, Jeffrey, if 't be true t's the lasteth thing I doth. (taking a break from reading) When did you learn to write like this?

SAM: It was Bigfoot, not me. The dude is a wordsmith.

JOSH: Right, right, so you’re telling me that Bigfoot, who is definitely real, broke in here without leaving a trace, took my notebook, wrote a bunch of random stuff about the Kraken, and then returned the notebook afterwards?

SAM: Yes?

Josh sighs and takes a seat back on the sofa, dropping the broken bottle onto the cushion next to him so he can flip through more pages. The camera follows him doing this, and it’s evident that Sam filled out every single page in his sleep the night before.

JOSH: I wish you had just been honest with me, Sammy. I was really worried about my notebook, I thought I would never see it again. My heart was all twisted up in knots.

BOP IT: Twist it!

JOSH: It was pulling me apart.

BOP IT: Pull it!

JOSH: This notebook is my one way to brainstorm what I share to the masses, to the teenyboppers out there who adore us!

BOP IT: Bop it!

Danny grabs the Bop It out of Jake’s hands, stomps to the front door, and chucks the toy.

BOP IT: (Voice growing fainter as it flies away) Awwwww man! Final score: 284,923.

JAKE: Are you kidding me? I was gonna break my record!

SAM: (eyeing the George Harrison album nailed to the wall behind Jake) I already did that.

DANNY: Your high streak was 12, Jake! You definitely broke it!

Jake looks disappointed, but he shrugs. Then he notices Sam looking at the evidence board and gapes.

JAKE: My George Harrison record!!

Josh finishes looking through his notebook, grabs a box of Pop Tarts from the ground at Danny’s feet, retreats back to his room, and comes back out with a second notebook, which looks identical to the original one. Sam stares at it blankly. Josh uncaps a pen and fixes himself an Apple and Cinnamon PopTart. Josh takes a big bite out of it.

JOSH: (with his mouth full) Now that I finally know where my notebook is and have some brain food, I can get back to work.

Josh starts drawing sketches in his new notebook as Waited All Your Life starts playing. As the song enters into the first verse, Josh is transported into a music video world where he frolics through fields with his notebook, they ride a tandem bicycle, share a Capri Sun, and watch a beautiful sunset at the ocean. As the song fades out, Josh is back in the living room, holding up a completed sketch of a jumpsuit. It has an anchor on it and the sleeves and legs are wrapped in tentacles. Josh has just designed a beautiful tribute to the Kraken.

JOSH: What do you guys think?

Josh holds his notebook up to Sam and Danny, who are feasting on Pop Tarts as well. Sam has taken off his detective gear, and Danny managed to get a quick shower in to clean the grime off. His skin is now covered in cream to help with his rashes.

DANNY: That’s actually pretty neat.

SAM: So you’re not mad at me anymore?

JOSH: No, I’m still pissed.

Although it’s cheesy, Sam, Josh, and Danny all hug one another. In the background, Jake receives an award from the Guiness Book of World Records for his Bop It score. None of his bandmates notice this happening. Jake shakes hands with a man in a suit and receives a certificate, getting his picture taken. Jake looks happier than he ever has.

END OF EPISODE.

(if you read this whole thing, I love you)

#greta van fleet #gvf #starcatchers #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #gvf fanfic #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #starcatchers 1x2 #greta van fleet tv show

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dinogoofy · 3 years

Text

Erron black/F! Reader

Old friend.

This one took a little bit, sorry if it's not quite as quality as my other fics!

MAJOR TW for Guns, threats, and Kano being a dick to precious puppies.

You and Erron black had grown up together. Two kids brought closer by horrible lives. Sharing the scraps of food you had with each other. Ranting about awful parents, ranting about school. In your teenage years, you were the one to patch him up after fights. He was the one to beat the shit out of your bullies. The two of you hated that town and everyone in it. You used to think the two of you would stay as thick as thieves forever. Your paths only split when you wanted to live a normal life. Live the peaceful, country way you had seen so many others do, but never grew up with yourself. Erron, however, only wanted money, glory. He wanted to take the back roads and do all the things normal folks wouldn't dare to get his fill.

You didn't understand his choice to be a mercenary, but it wasn't your choice to make for him. Whatever life he wanted to have was good enough for you as long as he made it out of that shitty town. He didn't contact you much. He only really showed up on your doorstep when he was dying and needed someone to patch him up. But at least he was coming to see you, right?

With a sigh you stepped into your little country home, smiling slightly at the immediate sounds of your fur babies running to meet you. A blur of orange fur rushing to thread between your legs and trip you, while your sweet pound mutt waited patiently for you to set your keys on the key rack.

"Hey boys." Chester meowed at you rather loudly, only to take off when you leaned down to pet him. The crazy feline darting under Archie's body as he happily waited for his own pets. It was easy to smile at the warm welcome, immediately a little more relaxed after finally getting home. You stretched at the door, setting your bag down to head into the kitchen.

The first thing you settled on was giving your boys their long-awaited scoops of food, both of them sat down neatly next to each other. Only Archie waited for your go-ahead, Chester already digging in by the time you gave him a laughing "Ok, Archie."

You patted your mutt before taking some leftovers out, eyes catching on the printed photo of you and Erron from senior year. It's been a few months since last he came to visit. The thought made you a little sad. But the memory of the photo gave you a nostalgic, happy feeling. With an arm slung around his shoulders, and a goofy look on your face, Erron was the complete opposite of you. The goof pretended to be annoyed at your antics, but you could see the slight smile at the corner of his lips.

"Come on! Just one photo. It's not like it's going to kill you, Erron."

"It's not going to kill me, no. But I might end up killing you."

"Pfft- yeah right."

Your smile grew a bit wider. You sat down at the table alone as you finished your dinner. Erron had always been a strange one. Always tough, trying to be unfeeling. Not wanting anyone to be close. Not wanting any affection besides the one-night stands and the women he infatuated. Always the one to flirt, but never with you.

No. Not ever with you. You smirked. He always acted differently around you. More nervous, more fidgety. You'd been in love with him since before you even knew what love truly was. And you had known for years that he loved you back. You had just been waiting for him to admit it. You'd scoffed at yourself time and time again for not making the first move, but Erron wasn't ready for that. You didn't think he was, at least. You just wished he had gotten therapy like you had asked him to.

The scraping of your fork against your plate was your only indication that you had finished eating, you definitely spaced out a bit. You always did when you thought of Erron. Maybe he would visit soon. Maybe you should stop thinking that to make yourself feel better.

The plate clicked lightly against the floor when you set it down for Archie to lick before you set it in the sink. By the time you turned off all the lights and headed to bed Chester was already asleep on your pillow, Archie curled up in his own bed next to the nightstand. You moved the orange tabby slightly to the side so you could lay down, and he yelled in protest the way that annoyed kitties do. It was easy to slip into a comfortable sleep with your boys next to you.

The sound of your sweet Archie growling a feral warning was what woke you up that night. You shot out of bed, ripping off the covers and grabbing the shotgun from under your mattress. Archie never growls. An unhinged bark sent a jolt of panic through you, along with Chester, who woke up to sprint under your bed and hide. Archie certainly never barked. Not like that. Not in that way. Something was wrong. You clicked off the safety and cocked the shotgun.

You moved slowly at first, creeping your way over to the sound of Archie's growls, but when he let out a sharp whine, your vision went white-hot with rage.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DOG!" You shouted, finally turning the corner and into the living room where two figures lurked. The lamp was still on, and as your eyes adjusted you could make out the masked face of Erron, and the form of some asshole looming over Archie with your baby backed into a wall.

Erron didn't respond at all at the sight of you. The unknown figure by your dog stood up slowly and whistled.

"You did say she was a feisty one." You scowled, keeping the gun pointed squarely on the man.

"Erron. I don't know why you're fucking here, but please tell me you don't know this asshole so I can just shoot him." Erron rolled his eyes at you. The figure laughed, moving away from Archie, who sprinted over to you so that he could cower behind your legs. Your eyes were trained on the figure as he proceeded to sit in your own fucking armchair.

"Name's Kano. Leader of the black dragon." The black dragon. The group of mercenaries that Erron had joined. Why the fuck did Erron bring this guy into your home. Erron called your name.

"Set the gun down, sugar." You didn't take your eyes off of Kano.

"Respectfully, Erron, I don't think I will." Kano laughed, but you didn't think anything was funny. Erron called your name again, strutting over to you carelessly. Archie growled as he got closer. He set a hand on the gun, pushing it down.

"Calm. Down." You huffed but gave in. Sending your friend a nasty look as you lowered your defense. Erron wouldn't willingly let you be in danger. There's no way he would. You had to remember that.

"We came here for some help. 'Know that cave at the edge of your property?" The cave? You found it when you had just moved in, part of an old interlocking set of mining tunnels carved out of the land in the early 1900s. When you checked it out at first, it was Erron who actually went with you. You had a fond memory of fucking around in the tunnel, only to find an old elevator next to a dead-end tunnel with bloody handprints and markings that trailed across the wall and into the elevator. That was enough to get the two out of there. What would they want with it?

"What about it?"

"Those runes we found in it match what a client is looking for. We just want to check it out, and get outa' you're way." You laughed, glancing between Kano, who was currently putting a cigarette out on your favorite chair- and Erron, who still stood next to you in an almost defensive manner.

"Am I supposed to believe that there's no catch to this? No killer secrets? No blackmail?" Kano snickered, standing from his chair and walking over to you. You stood strong, but the beating of your heart sped up. You hated feeling afraid.

"The catch is, you show us the cave, and we leave your little buddy here alive." You scowled, and Erron sighed deeply at his boss, knowing already that he had started something.

"First of all, you don't get shit if you threaten my dog, asshole. You piece of human sh-"

"Just think of it as a favor between friends." Erron interrupted. You frowned at his words. His paycheck was definitely depending on it. Your thoughts split In two different ways. One, the fact that he's using your friendship to manipulate you into doing him a favor, two… it felt relieving that he still thought of you as friends.

You finally gave in, sighing and relaxing almost completely. Archie nuzzles your leg before running off. You turned your head just slightly to watch him out of confusion when a sudden yank catches your attention. Kano had snatched your shotgun straight out of your hands. Erron stiffened next to you.

"I'll take that!"

"You-!" Erron held out back just as you went to lunge at Kano. You struggled against him for just a moment before he gave you a bit of a push to set you back. What had gotten into him?!

"Ah ah ah! Sorry, Sheila, there's no way we're gonna let you keep this on you. Erron?" Kano taunted. You went to yell in protest but only yelped, Erron's hands suddenly holding onto your arm.

"Just comply. It'll be over soon." Erron whispered. You grumbled in protest but didn't fight it as they took you from your warm house.

Kano walked proudly ahead of you and Erron while navigating to the cave. Fucker didn't even know where he was going. You had been scowling the whole time, a surprising feat while Erron was around. Speaking of which, His hand on your arm had softened its hold, but the strangest thing was that he still wouldn't look at you.

"This is your idea of a visit?" You mumbled to him. He shook his head, his heavy steps landing on a twig he forcefully snapped as you walked. He was definitely in a mood.

"This' a business trip, hun. Wouldn't be here if it weren't for that." You snickered.

"Yeah right. You'd end up here eventually." You said the words but didn't quite believe them as you walked. "Don't think you could stay away if you tried."

"-And I tried." You ignored the painful sting in your chest, going silent before shouting another set of directions to Erron's dipshit boss. You could almost feel Erron's gaze change as his eyes remained on you.

"-look, I didn't want you to get caught up in all this. It's bad enough that I'm here now." The words made you frown slightly. You elbowed Erron in the side, trying to make a little light of the situation.

"Better than Kano coming out here by himself." Erron laughed.

" 'Betcha you'd've killed him the moment he stepped into your house."

"I almost did." You couldn't see Erron's smile through his mask, but the happy look in his eyes was infectious. You couldn't help but blush a bit, walking closer to him. His hold on your arm was loose and comfortable at this point, and you couldn't make yourself break out of it.

"You lovebirds done shit-talking or what?" God, you hated this Kano guy. The rest of the walk was silent. After about 30 minutes of almost tripping on fallen limbs, you finally made it to the cave.

"Quite a big place for such a little property, huh?" You didn’t respond to Kano. Ignoring him as Erron guided you to walk past him.

"Oh don't be coy. Where'd all that fire go?" Kano was taunting you again, but both you and Erron ignored him this time. Erron spoke over him when he tried to speak a third time.

"Which way d'you go from here?" You laughed.

"You think I know? I try to stay away from this place as much as I can. Haven't been here since you were with me." Erron furrowed his eyebrows, taking a moment to click a flashlight on. He looked around for a moment, before setting out in a direction. Kano followed behind, a little too close to your back for your liking.

Shivers ran rampant across your skin when you finally found the elevator. Kano pushed past you forcefully, knocking you off balance. Erron caught you with a steady hand around your waist. You relaxed in his touch, and once again pushed forward.

"Ahh! Look at that beauty!" Kano took out a camera, and you flinched at the flash.

"I'm sure the client won't mind if we keep a few copies of the pictures to ourselves, now would he?" Kano laughed. Being around Erron was nice, but you were losing your patience. It was late, you had work in the morning, and you were just plain tired of this black dragon bullshit. You didn't notice when Erron's arm fell away from yours.

"Look, I showed you the cave. Just give me my gun, and let me go back to bed." Kano snickered at your words, Erron loomed behind you.

"I don't think you'll be going far." Kano spat on the ground after he spoke, you scowled.

"Excuse me?" Kano's smile was gritty and disgusting. He whistled at Erron, walking past you with your shotgun held loosely in his grip. You contemplated snatching it, but when you whipped around-

It almost felt like you couldn't breathe. You were staring down the barrel of Erron's pistol for a long moment.

"Look kid, we can't have someone like you knowing about this cave thing, it's too risky and all that blabber, you understand. You've been such a delightful host and all, but it's time for you to go." Kano laughed.

"Can't tell any divine dipshits about our little meeting if she's dead anyway, now can she Erron?" Erron had never been so out of focus before, his stomach wringing in knots. He hardly knew what to think as he pointed the gun at you, something he'd never thought he'd ever do.

"Hey?" A little voice called out. A little face leaning down to peer at the little boy with his head buried unto his knees. He hardly glanced up.

"Hi." He had murmured so quietly.

"Do you want to share this sandwich with me? You look lonely."

"Erron?" Your voice quivered. Panic was written all over your face. His finger lingered on the trigger as his chest squeezed.

"Sit still, dumbass." You squeezed his bloodied arm.

"That shit burns!" He hissed out. You laughed at him, dabbing at the large cut he had gotten from some idiot with broken glass on the school grounds.

"Well duh. It's isopropyl alcohol. It's gonna burn like hell." He was cute when he was confused. You laughed.

"It disinfects the wound, Erron."

"... I knew that. I'm not fucking stupid." He had grumbled.

"Nothin' personal." He finally spoke. The words hurt him as they came out.

"That's not how you use a rifle." Throwing popcorn, at Erron, you quickly stole the remote to turn the volume up.

"Shh! Just shut up and enjoy the movie. Westerns aren't exactly supposed to be realistic."

"Well I can't really enjoy an unrealistic western, can I?- he's holding that wrong-"

Your face started to shift from panic to anger as kano patted Erron's shoulder, walking back into the rickety elevator.

"Panicked now, aren't ya Sheila? Want to beg? Or are you the proud sort?" You snarled at him.

"No." You said stiffly. "No. I want to see you do it, Erron." Kano laughed from the elevator. Erron remained stiff, his smooth voice taking a moment to come out.

"Look, you don't know-"

"I said do it, Erron!" You snapped, stepping closer to the cowboy. He didn't step back, his hand didn't waver. You stepped close enough to him that the barrel of his pistol pressed to your forehead.

"Go ahead! Be Kano's little lapdog. Shoot me." You spat, the adrenaline working its way into your system. "Shoot me and say goodbye to all the FUCKING years I took care of your ass and bury me in that shitty town we grew up in Erron!" Erron's stone-faced seriousness finally broke, and even though he was wearing a mask you could still see the rage in his eyes as he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and forcefully yanked you closer to him. He kept the gun pressed to the side of your head.

"Do you have any idea who you're provoking? You. don't. know me. anymore. Sugar. You don't have any idea what I'm capable of!" You let out a curt laugh.

"You and I both know I still do." You snarled. Both of you went silent, the tension crackling between the two of you. You could see the panic that hid under the steely overlaying emotion in his eyes. Only Kano's ongoing childish taunts remained.

"Well then, Erron? Get on with it!" Erron's stiff posture remained, he spoke to Kano, but his eyes remained on yours.

"Fuck off Kano." Kano didn't take that well.

"Excuse me? I'm your boss, dipshit. You can't just-" All of a sudden, Erron pushes you back, reels around, and shoots through the spaces in the old metal elevator, the bullet hits the back of the wall, and ricochets through the old, decaying pulley rope that held it up. Kano looks up in horror and rage. His screaming and cursing faded as the elevator launched down and crashed to the very bottom of the mine.

All is silent. All that can be heard is your labored breathing from all the shouting and adrenaline.

"Still want me to shoot you?" Erron asks. Speaking smug words with a tone only you could recognize as him trying to hide his panic. You scowled again. Walking over to him with tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.

"You're such a fucking asshole!" You shouted, punching him in the shoulder. Erron didn't flinch.

"And?" You couldn't stop the tears now. All the pain, and heartbreak, and sadness rushing out at once. You weekly hit his shoulder one more time, and grappled him into a hug, burying your face into his chest without being able to stop your sobs. Erron stood stiff. After a moment, his arms slid around your waist, and he held you back tightly.

"Kano's gonna kill you for that." You laughed through the tears. Erron didn't respond. His hand left your side for only a moment, and when it held onto again he had taken off his mask, letting it drop to the floor. Erron buried his face into your hair, holding you a bit tighter than before.

It was quiet again. Erron squirmed after a moment.

"...I wouldn't have buried you in that town." You snorted, not taking your face out of his chest, biting your nails into the fabric of his shirt just a bit.

"So you admit you would've shot me?" Erron didn't react to the words. He only sighed into your hair, lifting a hand to pinch your ear. You pulled yourself out of his chest with a laugh, and his hands settled on your waist. You wiped your tears, your nose, and tried to make yourself a little better. It didn't really work. Erron could see that. He lifted a calloused hand to your cheek anyway.

"Just because you've come to your fucking senses doesn't mean I'm not still mad." You sniffled, smiling still as the bitter words fell out of your mouth.

"Yeah, well you should be. Kano was being an asshole anyway. That's the only reason I let you go." Erron coughed, you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying it. He rolled his eyes, huffing through his nose.

"... Maybe not the only reason." The smile returned to your face, and you rolled your eyes at him this time. At this point, it was almost like he didn't realize it himself.

"God, you're really not fooling anyone, dumbass." Erron scowled, about to retort when you decided, Fuck it. And clutched his face to pull him into a kiss. He didn't respond at first, stiff and uneasy. Always so stubborn. After a second or two though, he melted into your lips, pulling you closer. It was hard to hold on to all your anger when he was just so kissable. He'd get his ass beaten for this little stunt. You would make sure of that, but right now all you wanted to focus on was the relieving kiss you had waited so long for.

#mk erron black #erron black x reader #erron black imagine #erron black reader insert #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine

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fenristheorem · 3 years

Note

Hi! First of all... You are a LEGEND🤩! Your head cons are sooooooo good. When I read theme I really get into the story and can feel the emotion you put on the characters, 💖its amazing! Not that long ago you did a head con of Erika being ok with Leiftan being a Demon. So I was wondering... Could you do a head con of Lance accepting to take Erika with him, were she becomes a demon and enters the plot with Lance against the guard🤔? It would be very interesting to se that.😊 Hope u have a good day, evening or night!

Oh thank you so much! 😄 That’s so kind of you to say, I don’t think you truly know how much I value your compliment! You’re so kind! 😊

I originally considered nearly completely re-writing the plot from episode 15 (I believe that’s when she asks him to take her) for this ask, but then realized I would be re-writing half the plot of Origins lol. That would take way too long to write (while including different emotions and perspectives and requiring knowledge that’s too hard to hunt down or doesn’t exist) so I decided to write this with a very broad spectrum of headcanons, including some major alternative events (usually not including the guard since she’ll be holed up in a secret place so Lance doesn’t need to watch out for her every second of every day) and Lance and Guardienne’s overall compatibility.

This is probably my most bizarre ask yet, in the manner of how I’ve responded, so brace yourself because there’s a few crazy moments in this lol. Also, there’s a bit of swearing in this - I have a tendency to write stories / headcanons in a pretty crude style sometimes.

~Under the cut~

Guardienne joins Lance against the guard:

To start off with, when Guardienne asked Lance to take her with him, she didn’t know his identity. He was still Ashkore to her. That changed somewhat quickly.

I theorize Lance did actually have some sort of “home base” deep within a forest or the mountains somewhat near the guard. He did have to sleep and eat after all. And where do you think he was taking all those supplies on the night Guardienne asked him to take her with him? Where do you think he stored that frying pan so dear to him? Buried it in the ground? Hung it on a tree branch for a Sabali to find later? Sure, he moved around a lot, but he had to keep his stolen resources somewhere, so he must have had a main cabin or cave or something that no one knew about that he made a temporary home of sorts.

Assuming that; that’s probably where he kept Guardienne most of the time after she came with him. Of course, he would be sure to restrict her movements for a while - after all, she could have asked to come merely to find out what a day in the life of Ashkore is like and then tell that to the guard - but once he realizes that she truly was compliant and happy to be there, even helping him by providing information he didn’t know already and taking care of basic chores like cooking and such so he can spend more time screwing with the guard, he loosened up and let her roam around his domain.

He kept personal things well hidden; any old drawings, weapons, and clothing. Basically anything he didn’t want her to touch... which was most of his stuff... but he was reasonable and didn’t restrain her too much. Just as long as she didn’t bother him and continued to help he didn’t mind her presence... too much anyways.

But again, it wasn’t too long before Guardienne found out his true identity. In reference to the existing plot-line, I imagine her finding out his identity in this AU long before she found out in the existing plot-line. After all - they’re living together now, and he needs to take off his mask and armor sometimes. Do you think he always sleeps in his mask? And armor for that case? What about when he eats or bathes? Certainly he can do most of those things in private, but I don’t see Lance demanding she turn her back every time he removes his mask and armor. I can see him doing that to begin with - when she’s restricted - but once he realizes she truly wants to help, he’ll find it to be inconvenient to always hide himself whenever he wants to do anything without his mask and armor. He’ll probably still want her to call him Ashkore, though... and that’ll be the case until she realizes his identity and refuses to call him anything but Lance.

Now I forget if she knew about Lance’s existence at the time of asking to leave with him (I believe she did), but since she never got a description I imagine it would take her a small while to connect the dots once she's living with him. She would certainly have theories that Ashkore is Lance, and she would certainly irritate the utter crap out of him with countless questions regarding possible confirmation or hints to back up her theory, but she wouldn’t get many answers. Either he would ignore her, or turn to level his icy stare on her. She would quickly understand that he’s not interested in answering questions about his identity and past. He eventually threatened to cut her tongue out a few times if she kept asking nonsensical questions, but she didn't seem to care much and he eventually let it be; perhaps he realized that she would be even more irritating then. She wouldn't be able to speak easily without her tongue, but her resolve is steady, so she'd still try to find some way to speak with him - and then he'd still need to deal with her questions in whatever way she deemed fit, which included investing time to learn this new way of communication. Threatening her friends wouldn't work as she doesn't consider the guard her friends, so Lance came to recognize that's it better to just deal with her questions and ignore her.

However, he would answer general questions that couldn’t be used heavily against him if she were captured and questioned; why is he trying to destroy the crystal, what’s with his grudge against Eldarya, what does he know about the Blue Sacrifice? From his answers she can put a few logical pieces together. The Eldaryans don’t deserve to live? They’re disrespecting the kind gift of life the dragons gave them? They were apparently forced to sacrifice? Then hunted down after the sacrifice despite their generous gesture? Well he must be a dragon, since angels didn’t end up sacrificing and he speaks so passionately about them. And Valk said he was faelien, so either he lied and does know or Ashkore (being Lance in her theory) somehow found out their genetics while Valk remained clueless to it. And they look so similar, they would have to be brothers. Ashkore’s story started around the same time that Lance apparently died? Lance apparently fought valiantly and passionately for the things he believed in, like what she’s seen with Ashkore? Goodness are the pieces adding up now.

Guardienne would eventually approach him about her theory and he would respond with a cold hiss.

“What, you want a reward? A pat on the back and a ‘well done’? Why does my identity matter to you?”

He never said a direct yes - he was basically incapable of responding calmly or reasonably with touchy subjects - but she would know she has it right.

You would think them being on different sides of the war would mean they’d be more likely to try and kill each other, right? Wrong. Them being around each other all the time, I believe, leads them to be more likely to kill each other. Why? Recall episode 26 - their overall chemistry. Regardless of if choices made increased the LOM or decreased it, bizarre, entertaining conversation between the two still ensued. The main thing with that episode was that Lance became emotionally vulnerable as time went on, so actual tender...-ish moments came about where both of them were taken seriously but gently. Now imagine both of them - neither of them in vulnerable moments - being around the other constantly, both working together but still stepping on each other’s toes. Guardienne wants to make a meal; where’s this ingredient? What’s the ingredient compatibility? What do these things taste like? That’s not a food, that’s an alchemy ingredient? AND WHERE IS THE GODDAMN FRYING PAN!? (*cue Lance in the background clutching the pan and hissing at Guardienne*). Now Lance - who’s holed himself up in a private room - needs to plan his next attack on the guard; he needs this map of the layout, and this item to help him plan. He can use this pathway to- “Hey Lance?” ... Silence - if he pretends he’s not in there she’ll surely leave... Anyways, this pathway will probably be the safest, and his destination is there. Leiftan can- “Lance, I know you’re there, don’t ignore me!” ... Leiftan can- “Where’s the corn!?” Oh by the Oracle! But what the hell is corn? He’ll go to the door and crack it open only enough to give her an odd look. “Small, yellow, hard grain but smooth? About the size of a fingernail?” ... “Back right, lower pantry.” He’ll slam the door and hover over the map again. Ok, Leiftan... yes, that’s what he was going to do. Then he’ll have access to- “Oh - where’s the big pot?” *SLAM* Pain will shoot up his arm from his fist as the table shakes and he turns his head to seethe at the woman through the door. “You’ve lived here for weeks, you know where it is!” “Well you seem to have an obsession with hiding things, so actually I don’t because everything is always moved around!” He’ll rush to the door and fling it open to glare down at her. The door and it’s frame creak unsteadily at his tight grip as he looms over her. “Find. It. Yourself.” He’ll go to recede back into the room but she’ll grab his shirt and pull him into the room she’s in - he’ll snarl at her in response. “I’ve tried looking for it, it’s impossible to find.” She’ll hiss back at him with folded arms. “I’m busy planning.” He growls at her. “Well take a break then.” She snaps as they stare each other down... Silence again... “You make me want to kill myself.” “Don’t. You need to destroy the guard first.” He throws his hand back towards the door he was stolen from with a wild look in his scathing eyes; what did she think he was planning for in there!? “You gonna help me or what?” She speaks as if this is completely alright. He nearly shouts in rage as he slams his fist against the wall - pain shooting up his arm a second time - before pacing and clutching his head, eventually resigning to stomping towards the makeshift kitchen - not caring about whether she follows - and tearing through his stores to find the pot. He’ll throw it on the counter and cast a livid glare at her as he passes to head back to planning. “Well goodness, you didn’t need to throw a tantrum over it.” He whirls around and nearly leaps on her - she’s helping to destroy the crystal, she’s helping to destroy the crystal, she’s helping to destroy the crystal, WHY DOES A POT MATTER RIGHT NOW!?

So yes, they’re more likely to attempt to kill each other when on the same side; only because they’re alone and around each other more so they can chew on each other's nerves more.

However, as time carries on and they spend more time together, they actually begin to... enjoy each other's presence sometimes - not even sometimes; a good portion of the time. Sure they have moments where they argue and are a breath away from stabbing each other, but there are also moments where they aren’t treading on the other, by accident or purposeful. In these moments, they see a different side of each other - a good side of each other.

Guardienne quickly picks up on how passionate, resolute, and intelligent Lance is, noting that he’ll spend hours on end studying texts he’s found and maps of the areas the guard will be around next. He’ll carry these texts and maps around with him as he ghosts around their make-shift home, spending most of his days off curled up next to a small indoor fireplace and moving only for a few moments to take a quick break. Ironically, Guardienne leaves him alone to study more when he studies within her presence rather than when he locks himself alone in a separate area for hours, so in time Lance realizes he’s less likely to be interrupted if he studies in their living room/common area. As he begins to study more within her sight, Guardienne begins to see what he studies - and many of those things provide great insight for her regarding knowing Lance better. These things can range from different languages, histories and cultures, maps, geography, alchemy, mission reports (stolen from the guard of course) and even a few books touching on warfare, philosophy and psychology - what little of those latter texts exists in their world, at least. Guardienne begins to realize that, while Lance is very set on destroying the guard and the crystal, he’s also much more than just a man who wishes to exact revenge. He studies these texts to learn how to use it to his advantage, sure, but he also seems to have a genuine interest in these subjects. She even interrupted him one day - finding that he was oddly patient with answering this specific question - to ask if he perhaps ever grows bored of learning about these things, stressing that it’s a good idea to take a break from working constantly all the time - only for him to respond that he doesn’t view all of it as work. Some subjects he’s less interested in but are necessary to know for his agenda of revenge, but in the case where he’s feeling drained from that he’ll turn to reading another subject that he’s more interested in and go back to it later. She sometimes resigns to observing him as he studies - and she knows that Lance knows she watches him by the way his gaze will flick over to her every once and a while - but eventually she’ll begin to ask exactly what’s written in the books or what he’s thinking regarding the maps, asking to try to get to know his thought process better or just having nothing better to do at the moment. This is how Guardienne learns to grow closer to him; he doesn’t snap at her half as much when he explains what he’s studying, and he explains things in such a way that she doesn’t need to interrupt him to ask him to explain it better. In turn, she also begins to learn a bit about what he’s studying and can provide a bit of her own interesting input. Occasionally they debate these topics with one another, and Lance is actually very temperate when debating these things - he can speak in beautiful, grand tones about certain subjects, clearly showing just how much he’s interested in it. His eyes will glow with a warmth and passion that seems to dull even the indoor fire that burns with an eternal energy. These moments of enthusiasm actually entertain her greatly, and she begins to realize that she truly enjoys being around him in these moments. However, this also leads to minor conversations about his past, usually sparked from conversing about past experiences in these fields, and Guardienne witnesses firsthand the icing over of his personality from the reminder of his past. She’ll mention anything about his past; the village he lived in, his brother, his time in the guard, any memories he has, and the lively shimmer in his eyes will dull. His shoulders will drop and gaze will be cast to the floor as he bows his head slightly, a weight seeming to settle on him as he stares into a void for just a few mere moments. Then his facial features will harden, a stone cold look will invade his eyes and he’ll straighten again despite the clear effort it takes for him to stand tall. His formerly lively, sonorous tone will harden into cold, scathing words that are nearly spat out as he closes himself off, snapping and growling at her if she attempts to connect with him again. It’s from these continuous experiences that she recognizes something important; he's not truly as evil as he seems - he's wounded and aches for his reality to not be what it is now, and he seeks every day to ease that torturous pain, believing that that pain can only be eased by hurting others, by showing them just how much he’s hurt from his knowledge. Nobody is born evil, she realizes - he’s cruel only because he feels this is the only way he can deal with the pain of reality.

In turn, she tries her best to be understanding and comforting when she can. She understands, in some ways, his pain of knowing about the guard and sacrifice - she’s against the guard as well for her own reasons not too different than his - and seeing just how much Lance has broken because of the guard - just like her - only makes her want to burn it to the ground more. Lance notices this in time; where she once always pushed him to tell her more about his past and identity and reasoning, she’s now willing to drop the subject for a while or ask in a manner that’s more... considerate or empathetic. She begins to overlook his snapping and huffing at her, and instead focuses more on what he says and his reaction to those words instead of his irritation at her persistence. As Guardienne comes to understand Lance more, she realizes that he actually enjoys her company as well, even if he won’t admit it. He’ll jump at the chance to explain and debate his studies with her, and when she backs off of a sensitive topic she accidentally tread on for a while, he’ll be more temperate if she returns in a few hours and touches at the topic again, provided she approaches it in a neutral, tactful way. After all, the topic she wishes to speak about is a reminder of or is the exact reason he went from honorable and righteous to cruel and destructive - in his perception, if she doesn’t know how to approach it in a cautious, gentle manner then she doesn’t deserve to know exactly what happened and why it bothers him so much. However, she does learn this in in time, and he eventually allows her to listen to his most personal thoughts on... well, nearly everything. As they grow to understand each other better, she begins to provide a bit of support for him. He’s been alone for so long that sometimes he wonders if he’s truly losing his mind, but her presence reminds him that he’s not as lost as he thinks sometimes. Guardienne becomes a grounding force for him. She willingly - happily - listens to his rants and stories of his past if he agrees to talk about it, even if he’s fuming and raging the whole time, and eventually she can actually calm him down a bit. As much as he wishes to maintain a distance between them, in time he can’t help but grow a bit protective over her for personal reasons; her perspectives agree with his, she readily and willingly - even humorously, sometimes - puts up with his temperamental outbursts, eagerly speaks with him about basically anything, and wants to do something about what she feels is right or wrong. He refuses to fully acknowledge the hold she has on him - he’s not supposed to be attached to anyone in any way if his mission is to succeed- but when he stares at her as she nestles next to a stream, eyes bright and curious with innocence as she watches shimmering native fish glide by and turns to him to ask why they’re swimming up-stream instead of down, he can’t help but forget his past and feel normal with her.

She’ll eventually be made aware of Leiftan and Chrome as well. Not at first, but when Lance drags her half-way across Eldarya with him because he needs to fuck with the guard in foreign lands she’ll be dragged into their late-night-hang-out-meetings.

Leiftan quickly takes to her, Lance notices, and this is also how - in this version of the story - Guardienne finds out about her genetics. They need her strength in the war, so Leiftan will enlighten her and encourage her to train her abilities, even helping her in the few moments he can.

Lance quickly snaps at him, making sure he knows he can’t jeopardize his fake role within the guard to train her late in the night. He comes up with all sorts of excuses and aggressively reminds Leif that he can’t spend too much time around her. She’s supposed to not exist anymore and Leiftan needs to pretend like nothing is going on.

Really, though, Lance is just feeling threatened. He doesn’t want his personal source of information, good food, and entertainment to be wooed and stolen away. Good luck getting him to admit that, though.

Lance believes she’s safest with him; he’s the one outside the guard and his location and activities are unknown most of the time. All he needs to do is keep her veiled in that shroud of mysterious unknown to the guard and she’ll be impossible to find. Of course, she won’t want to just sit around forever. She’ll eventually want to be more proactive in helping him destroy the guard, and he’ll argue it at first until she becomes just so annoying that he can’t possibly stand it anymore! It’s either she helps or he kills her because she won’t shut up, so he trains her; hard and brutally. He’ll train her in how to master her demon abilities, how to gain the upper hand in any fight with any enemy, the most lethal points of different creatures, the most lethal tactics she could use, how to improve her strength, stamina, speed and stealth. He was once Chief of the Obsidian Guard; he knows how to turn a weak, scraggly runt into a masterful, fearsome warrior. When he finally sees fit, he’ll gift her with personalized equipment - bought or made specifically by him - so she can slink around the guard late at night with him. Of course, he’ll demand that she call him Ashkore on premises - or anywhere except home, really - but she’ll follow his lead in that case; she knows how important it is to remain unknown.

So how exactly do these restock or attack missions go? Well, she’s usually brought along for restock missions - where no one is supposed to know they were there in the first place - in which case her role is to stay quiet and help him throw stuff into the bag. She’ll typically be left to carrying the bags unless there’s one that’s too heavy for her to remain quiet - he’ll take the heavier bags. Lance will usually be busy designing their path out and planning their timing correctly while she focuses on following him. He doesn’t really take her on attack missions, though. He wants her to remain unknown. If a feminine figure is suddenly working with him not too long after Guardienne’s disappearance, especially since it was clear there was a rift between her and the guard, then suspicions will rise, and unfortunately those questions could then begin trace further back to reflect on Lance’s death and Ashkore’s appearance due to the similar time-frame of events. Basically, their stories and disappearance/death to villain appearance time-frame would begin to mirror each other. If she was to remain unknown then she can’t directly fight the guard, so no attack missions for her. However, Lance isn’t against turning a restock mission into a restock-attack mission if he sees the chance - he’ll just make sure she’s basically safe the rest of the way back home before enacting on it, even going as far as retracing his steps back to the guard to cause trouble.

In the original plot-line, it seems that most of the time when Lance, Leiftan and Guardienne are fighting each other it’s due mainly to the fact that Leiftan abandons the plans against the guard because he's in love with Guardienne, Lance wants Leiftan to continue against the guard, and then he realizes he needs Guardienne out of the picture so Leiftan forgets about her and so he can gain some other information he needs/use her as leverage against the guard. Since in this AU, she's happily on their side (so Leiftan isn't abandoning his plans against the guard and Lance has all access to her power/information) I can see a bit less of a rift among their team as their plans harmonize together. Instead of Leiftan and Lance fighting, Lance kidnapping Guardienne, Lance becoming reckless by putting off breaking the crystal, and many other things happening caused by the rift between them, they’d most likely collaborate and work together better, and they’d be more coordinated in attacks and better at getting to the crystal. Of course, it’s possible that Leiftan may have wanted Eldarya to be saved at some point so he could spend his life with Guardienne, but seeing how Leiftan would do nearly anything for her throughout the original plot-line, I wouldn’t be surprised if he continued his efforts against the guard knowing that she’d want him to in this AU. It would also help knowing that the guard hurt her many times in many ways, so he’d be seeking revenge for that as well.

Dragging Guardienne around Eldarya with Lance, however, has risks and consequences that could come down on top of them if not careful. One such issue is the fact that, while Lance is very good at evading the guard, occasionally he’s caught and is sent on a wild-goose chase trying to flee from them. This occasionally can put Guardienne at risk of being found out, as she’s nearly always close to him, but Lance has considered this possibility a long time ago and has already devised a plan during these times to avoid from any heavy repercussions falling back on them. He’s just fine with fleeing with her - he knows how to keep her out of sight and her equipment is lightweight enough so that she has no trouble moving swiftly and flexibly if needed - but he’s realized that it may not be the smartest idea to have her fleeing with him while clearly seeming to be working with him. Instead, Lance realized, it would be a good idea for her to act as though she’s a hostage if she’s about to be revealed. That way, if she’s captured at any point in the future, she can play the innocent victim who knows nothing, and the guard - while persistent in finding out anything she may know, no matter how little the information may be- certainly won’t hurt their precious Guardienne who has already been through so much while in the clutches of the evil Ashkore. If she’s seen as a hostage, she can use excuses like “I’m sorry, it just so hard to talk about so soon... can we continue this later”, “I honestly don’t remember much, I was so busy focusing on a possible way of escaping that I didn’t pay much attention to that detail”, and “He kept me locked away in a certain area, I don’t know if there were any landmarks around that could point to his location” to deter their questioning and buy time before she needs to reveal anything actually important, else she look like she’s protecting him. Acting as a hostage will also assure that she won’t be thrown in the prison and guarded the whole time; so being free to roam around the guard while buying time to keep important information a secret will allow Lance the time to plan a rescue mission - disguised as another easy kidnapping since she won’t be guarded - to return her to their side. This is merely a backup plan if they know she’ll likely be captured at some point, and it will only work if the guard is unaware of a female figure helping him out, but provided that everything goes smoothly it should be a solid plan with little negative effects. However, this can’t happen more than once or twice; the first time will be easily accepted by the guard, the second time she plays the innocent, panicking fool she’ll be walking the line between seeming suspicious or if she’s truly that foolish, and for her sake the second time she will need to reveal some important information. A third time and the guard would know that something is up.

These hostage situations can get quite amusing for Guardienne - despite how fragile the situation is - and, frankly, Lance would snap at her every time she snickers about this, except he finds these situations absolutely hilarious as well. They’ll be running around Eldarya, the guard occasionally cornering them before they flee, and Guardienne will do her best to attack Lance in ways that are weak enough to not actually effect anything, but are strong enough to make it look like she’s truly trying to escape. Is the guard within ear-shot and they know they’ll be found out eventually? Great, Lance has an escape plan to get out of there already, so Guardienne can throw a screeching hissy-fit at him to make it seem like she’s trying to escape. Sometimes this can aid them as well, as they can set up a maze that the guard will certainly come running through to find Guardienne, following the sound of her struggle, only to then be trapped somewhere because Lance has traps set up that Guardienne certainly couldn’t have known about since she’s a hostage. Other times she’ll do her best to attack Lance - but let’s face it, even if he did train her she would still have a hard time bringing him down if their fight was serious - and he’ll quickly disarm her in front of the guard before finding a way to gain distance from them again. This is all just to reconfirm the illusion that she’s a hostage to the guard, and of course they panic every time and believe it, but it’s knowing that they’re running circles around the guard - bringing them here and having her bait them to this location so Lance can attack them, or leading them to discover a certain fact at some point so they think they have a useful piece of information on Lance when in fact Lance is using that to draw them out in confidence so he can crush them - that they find truly amusing. The guard is being played this whole time and they keep falling for it. Even Lance can’t help but laugh at a few moments of running the guard around with Guardienne later, when they’re no longer in danger.

Of course, this all leads up to the grand finale; the final shattering of the crystal. I imagine this happening much sooner than in the original plot-line because Guardienne isn’t a hindering factor anymore, and I can see it happening with much more ease than how it originally played out. Perhaps they’ll lure the important members of the guard to another land - letting them think that they’ve caught Guardienne’s trail over there - and launch their final attack when no one who can stop them is around. They might decide to fuck with the guard one last time, running them around within the guard while Lance infiltrates the crystal room. Perhaps they decide to go out with a bang and capture the important members of the guard, binding them and closing off the crystal room so they can reveal their identities and the guard can watch as the people that were once held dear to them destroy their world while they’re helpless to do anything. It doesn’t matter much how it happens, though, at this point - with an angered dragon and two powerful demons - there’s nothing that the guard can do to stop them. In some ways it will hurt, knowing that this is the end of their beautiful story of revenge, but - no matter what happens after this - they’ll know they succeeded, and that will be the last truth Eldarya will ever know.

I think this may be one of the longer headcanons that I’ve written so far, and I’m very pleased with how it turned out! Also, Tumblr ate this ask while it was a draft once or twice (it was in the 3-draft radius of asks that were at risk of being eaten so it disappeared a few times) so it did take a bit longer to write than I’d hoped, but fortunately no progress had been deleted so I’m just fine with that.

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lakesandquarries · 3 years

Text

Tangled Up - Chapter Two

oh, i’m gonna mess this up

Benrey’s spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “shots” by imagine dragons.

AO3 Link

It’s nice to be back at Black Mesa. Well, mostly nice. Gordon shuts the door behind Benrey only to immediately spot a wanted poster, the only thing making it unrecognizable a bizarre mullet. Do people seriously think he looks like that??

“Hey, Mr. Radio!” a voice calls from behind the counter. Kane rips the paper off the door, rushing across the room.

“Hi Darnold it’s great to see you shut the fuck up please -”

And that’s when he gets grabbed from behind. He barely sees Darnold’s eyes widen before he’s spun around, now facing an absolute mountain of a man. Behind him, he hears Darnold slap something - his forehead, probably - and mutter a quiet. “oh, right.”

He loves Darnold, he really does. Being friends with someone since you were kids will do that. Right now, though, he kind of wants to throttle him.

“Kane Radio, hm?” the main holding him says, ripping the wanted poster out of his hands. The thief glances around awkwardly, his eyes finally falling onto Benrey struggling to pull his hair back into his possession.

"H-hey, he'd appreciate his hair not being touched, guys!", Kane exclaimed, to help his partner as well as pull away from his attention. It works for a moment, as Benrey tugs the last strands of hair away and marches up to the guy holding Kane, unintimidated despite the height difference.

“Hey,” Benrey says quietly as he walks up next to the man. “Put him down? Please and thank you?”

Mountain man snorts. “Not likely. I need the reward money. Hey, you! Go get the guards!”

One of the other men nods, slipping out of the tavern as an argument breaks out. Kane is pushed and pulled, various thugs grabbing him and insisting they need the money, they deserve it most, as the bar descends into chaos.

A loud, meaty thwack! breaks up the argument. Kane’s dropped on his ass, and when he looks up, Benrey has his crowbar against Mountain man’s arm. “I said put him down.”

Kane rolls off to the side, dodging another man’s grabbing hands, and stands up so he can dart back over to Benrey and push him out of the way. “Hey, appreciate that, don’t get me wrong, but - Benrey, what the fuck?”

Behind the counter Darnold is glaring, grabbing a cup and a spoon to try and get everyone’s attention. Black Mesa housed a fighting ring once upon a time, but that got stopped when Darnold took over. It doesn’t matter now - even with Darnold yelling, everyone’s too riled up. Kane has to duck down to avoid a punch, only to immediately get kicked in the face. A hand grabs his arm and he swings instinctively, stopping at the last second when he realizes it’s just Benrey, pulling him off to the side.

“What the fuck,” Kane repeats.

“Being polite didn’t work,” is Benrey’s only explanation.

Darnold is still yelling, trying desperately to get some sense of calm as the crowd beats the shit out of each other. And then - just as quick as it started, it’s over. Screams dissolve into laughter as the assembled patrons dust themselves off, seemingly satisfied with the amount of violence they've had.

"It's been too long since we've had a fight like that," Mountain man says. "Nice job."

Benrey blinks up at him. "Whuh?"

Gordon agrees with him. Wiping blood from his nose, he mutters a quiet “What?” as well.

“Should’ve been longer,” Darnold complains. “You know I hate this kind of behavior! I have half a mind to throw you all out.”

"We'll clean it up, Danny, don't worry,” another, very skinny guy cheerfully responds, followed by a roar of laughter.

“Darnold,” the bartender corrects sharply as he sets to cleaning the place up, picking up overturned chairs and mopping up spills and sweeping up broken glass.

Turning back to Mountain man, Kane asks, "Just to be clear. Does this mean you won't tear me and my friend apart anymore?"

“Are you kidding? That’s the most fun I’ve had in years! Darnold never lets us do stuff like that. Real shame, considering how this place st -“

He’s cut off by someone slamming the door open. “I brought the guards!”

Apparently ten seconds of peace is the max he’s allowed. “Shit shit shit,” Kane wheezes, grabbing Benrey’s arm as Darnold directs them behind the door. The massive dog from earlier, the one who had chased him through the forest and up Benrey’s tower, is here. And it’s pissed. Kane’s heart drops as he watches it sniff around, following the trail of his footsteps.

Darnold pulls on a lever, revealing a ramp down into a stone tunnel. “You’re lucky you’re my friend,” he says as he ushers them through it. Benrey hesitates, but Kane pulls him through anyway, into some kind of cave system. The walls are dark stone, rough and natural. This is something old, and hopefully, it’ll cover them.

He exhales slowly, adrenaline still rushing through him. “Shit,” he mutters again. “That was close.”

“Who were those guys?” Benrey asks. The raccoon on his shoulder chirps.

“Guards. Royal guards. They, uh….they don’t like me much.”

“You stole something?”

“Big something.”

Benrey nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. The raccoon chirps again, and Benrey mumbles something in response to it. Because his day is just going so normally, he needs to listen to his weird...escort mission talk to his fucking raccoon as they run from guards.

Metal clanks behind them, and Kane picks up the pace, until he’s running down the tunnel. It opens into a cliffside, with no way down. “Fuck!”

“There’s a guy down there,” Benrey points out, and Kane bites back another string of curses when he realizes it’s fucking Forzen. He’d abandoned him after stealing the royal helmet. Betrayal’s nothing new between them, but this is recent enough that Forzen’s probably still pissed.

“That’s Forzen. He doesn’t like me much either.”

It’s then that the guards burst out of the tunnel and several things happen all at once. Benrey shoves his crowbar at Kane, and before he can question why Benrey is giving him his only weapon, he’s tossing his hair across the canyon like a grappling hook and running off the ledge.

Before he can even ask why Benrey would possibly give him his only weapon, he watches in horror as his partner takes flight. He doesn’t have time to check if Benrey’s alright - the guards are on his ass. The crowbar makes a satisfying thwack! as he swings it, taking down the guards in barely an instant. “Fuck, this is handy. Need to get me one of these!” Kane comments to himself, looking to see who’s left. One opponent remains - the dog, who is now holding a sword.

Because his day just cannot get any fucking weirder.

“You should know this is the weirdest thing I have ever fucking done!” Kane yells to Benrey, as he battles the dog, sword to crowbar, until the dog knocks it right out of his hands and down the cliff. “Two out of three?”

A lock of black hair wraps around his hand. Kane grins, giving the dog a salute as he’s pulled into a free fall. “Ha! Get fuc - hhhh.” His words dissolve into a wheeze, as his trajectory slams him into an exposed beam, knocking the wind out of him.

Kane, struggling to get a grip of himself, only just manages to hold on to Benrey while he swings down with his support. His feet connect with the water pipes, sliding down unsteadily as they collapse underneath him, and then the entire dam breaks. It happens in a flash, an enormous amount of water - it feels like the whole ocean when Kane glances back - pouring down into the valley. Rocks fall, the last of the wooden constructions collapsing. With a couple of leaps, Kane reaches an already running Benrey, and scoops up the last bit of his hair flailing behind him. "Benrey! Benrey, into the cave!" he shouts, hoping the other would get understand the general direction they have to run.

---

Benrey grabs the crowbar as he darts after Kane, barely avoiding getting crushed by the massive rock that comes crashing down and seals them into the cave. The walls are stone, not like the bricks of his tower but a random arrangement of rocks and boulders forming a lumpy wall. There’s a puddle of water on the floor, only as he looks it starts to grow, up over Benrey’s feet, his legs, creeping higher and higher. He looks around the cave frantically, spotting the trickles of water coming in past the rock that sealed them in. The only obvious opening, but the water is like another force behind it, pressing it shut like Benrey used to try and hold his door shut. The rock is stronger than him. No matter how hard he slams with his crowbar, there’s not even a dent. He turns his attention to the rest of the cave, alternately smashing and prying at the walls, but they hold firm. There’s nothing. Not a single loose rock, nothing resembling a weak point, not even a crack he can widen into an exit.

The water’s at his waist now. His breathing sharpens, small panicked inhales as he realizes there’s no way out. They’re trapped, with water climbing higher and higher. The water is murky, making the already dim space feel smaller and darker with each second.

Zeki was right. Kane’s gonna die here with him in this stupid fucking cave, all because Benrey wanted to see some lights.

“This is all my fault,” he mumbles, tugging on a strand of hair. “I never should’ve - she was right, this whole time, I just -“

Kane’s hands grip his shoulders, firm but gentle, forcing him to look at the thief’s face. "Benrey, don't blame yourself. Sometimes things go bad...that's how life works. It's - it's gonna be ok." In a different context it might be comforting. Right now, they’re about to die, and Kane’s voice is shaking.

Benrey’s voice is choked when he responds. “I’m sorry, Kane.”

"Gordon.” Benrey tilts his head, and Kane drops his hands from his shoulders with a sigh. “It's - my real name is Gordon Freeman. I made up Kane. You might as well know it now."

“Feetman?” Benrey asks with a shaky smile.

“If we weren’t trapped in a cave I’d hit you with your crowbar,” Kane - Gordon? - Gordon says. For the briefest of seconds, he smiles at Benrey.

“I, uh. I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” he says. Keeping a secret doesn’t matter when they’re both about to die. Gordon furrows his brows, looking questioningly at Benrey, and a sudden burst of inspiration hits as he repeats himself. “I have - oh shit!” He starts singing, voice shakier than normal as he races through the song. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine -“ The water is still rising, and maybe it’s his imagination but it feels even faster. “Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine -”

The last line gets cut off as the water fills the cave completely. He’s never tried singing underwater before, and for a moment he’s terrified it won’t work - and then his hair lights up, a bright neon teal, illuminating the cave. Gordon swims down to the bottom, pushing aside rocks desperately. He finds one that’s loose enough, dislodging it, and the rest follow suit. The wall starts to crumble before collapsing completely, launching the two of them into a river, the current quickly sweeping them downstream and onto a grassy bank.

Benrey drags himself out, flopping limply onto the grass, taking deep breaths as he stares up at the sky. “We’re alive,” he breathes, looking over at Gordon. He likes that name better, now that he has a spare moment to think about it. Laughter bubbles up out of him, along with bright yellow-green. Olive means I’m glad to be alive.

Beside him, Gordon is less chill, elbows on the grass and hands in his hair. “His hair glows,” he’s mumbling. “He - hhh - his hair? Glowing - glowy shit - people don’t glow!” From there his words just get more and more incoherent as he stares at the ground.

With a huff, Benrey stands up, starting to squeeze the water out of his hair. Jefferem shakes himself dry, splashing water onto Gordon. “You good?” Benrey asks.

“Am I - are you good?? What the fuck was that? How long have you been - ow, fuck -” He pulls his right hand close to himself, and when he holds it out again Benrey sees blood, bright red against the brown skin. He must’ve cut himself on a rock or something.

Benrey offers a hand to help Gordon get up, so he doesn’t put pressure on the injured one. “Lets, uh. Find somewhere to dry off first and then we can play 20 questions?” Or, maybe, if he stalls long enough, Gordon will forget whatever he wants to ask and Benrey can keep pretending like he’s a person.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #benrey #gordon feetman #frenrey #benrey hlvrai #cora writes #tangled au #tangled up #adventures of cora.

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jacks-wylan · 4 years

Text

It started to rain a day later.

Geralt's already bad mood started to increase even more, as he stomped down that trice damned mountain. His fingers trembled, and he knew very well that it was not because of the now terribly colder wind blowing, but he couldn't help but notice that the temperature was lower than the day before – lower than that same morning.

He gritted his teeth, eyes roaming up to the gray sky. Winter was coming, and that felt like the only blessing that was falling upon him lately, because winters meant home and late nights with his brothers and the closest thing he could ever have as a break, to have some time off everything .

He felt a pang of worry when, as the day passed, the weather worsened. Not for Yennefer, no, because she could take care of herself, and just portal out of there – but that idiot that went down the mountain path alone, without waiting for him at the clearing as he should have done no matter how much he was offended... the thought of him in a dangerous territory, with an upcoming storm no less, is worrisome. He tried to not think of Jaskier, because the he was still angered – and the guilt was already creeping up his spine, gnawing at his insides – and deep down he was hoping that he, indeed, joined the dwarves in the end, and he was not at all alone – as he was, as it should have been from the start.

Caingorn and the stables where Roach was waiting for him is half a way down, when he had to find shelter for the night. He found an empty cave, built a fire, and meditated. He couldn't fall asleep. Not that he tried, but he knew that slumber would not come easily on him this time. He would not fall asleep peacefully, safe , as he did with Yennefer ever again.

The rain became a downpour by the time he reached the inn.

He was surprised the same when, once entered inside the inn, knowing that he could not go anywhere with that kind of weather – he could not permit that something bad would happen to Roach – he found every single still alive member of the dragon hunt there.

Even Borch. Even Jaskier. Even Yennefer .

She did not deign him of a glance, and Geralt did expect as much. Jaskier, instead, looked at him with a relieved expression, but... but still, he didn't come to him, didn't run towards him and started to ramble as always. He noticed Jaskier's belonging at his feet, belongings that – apart from his lute – should have been inside Roach's saddlebags, with Geralt's things.

He told himself thank fuck .

He did not feel so thankful, though.

The common room was crowded, but Geralt found a table in a corner regardless. He settled there, ordered food and ale, and ignored the conversations around him. Someone was saying that if the storm did not placate, it would be impossible to walk the roads. He heard Yennefer snort and say that if things would not get better, she would just leave them all there and portal away. Jaskier muttered a mean: “Of course you will, but why are you still here?”

It was Borch that reached out to him. He sat next to him, and after he gulped a mouthful of ale, Geralt just asked: “Your child?”

“Safer than us here.” was his response, “The skies are enraged.”

“Shouldn't you be with them?”

“Not now, no.” Borch shook his head, “But I will be, if the rain ever stops.”

Geralt wasn't in the mood to understand Borch's cryptic words, so he just kept eating and drinking. Then he went out, saw Roach, gave her enough clean water and fresh hay, made sure that there still was pellet for her to sleep on. She seemed content, but she also seemed like she was waiting for something – for someone – that wasn't there with them, sniffing at Geralt's hands but not finding the treats he never gave her.

Geralt patted her muzzle and turned back in. The rain still didn't show any sign of stopping, falling almost cruelly on the ground. Roads became torrents, trees bent under the force of wind.

The skies are enraged.

None of the patrons could go back to their lives, when the night came. So the innkeepers decided that until the storm ended, the rooms were available for all of them – Geralt did not talk to Jaskier, as they walked up the stairs to their shared room, because he was expecting the bard to break the silence, but at first he didn't.

The awkwardness fell upon them until they had to look into each other's eyes by the only bed in the room, when Jaskier finally, finally talked. “Left or right?”

Geralt sighed, leaning his swords against the wall. “Jaskier,” he said his name, but abruptly stopped, because he didn't really know what to say.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a very shitty situation, isn't it? We are all caged here for who knows when, and funnily right after–” Jaskier's voice faltered, until it stopped. “Can you endure me for a little more? I won't get in the way. You can talk with the witch, sort out all your problems, and live happily ever after. If there might be a silver lining here, it has to be this.”

Silence fell on them again. Geralt raised the blankets and got under them: he was pretty sure that not even that night sleep would come to him, but he could at least try. The road to Kaer Morhen was long and tortuous, he needed to be well rested before taking that way.

There was an acrid, bitter scent lingering in the air. Geralt ignored it.

“You really have nothing to say to me?”

Lying on the bed, Geralt looked at him with a sigh, “Just sleep, Jaskier.”

The room got illuminated by a thunder, fallen not too far from the inn. Jaskier jolted, head shot back towards the window with a panicking jump. Geralt could not see his eyes, but he imagined them being wide open, like a deer caught by a lightning. It might not even be too far from reality.

“If only I could.” Jaskier murmured, lying too on the bed but giving him his back. That position made Geralt feel lonely, but it was a sentiment so absurd that he just shrugged it off and closed his eyes.

Outside, the storm did not end, but it got calmer when he got up the next morning.

It was still a downpour, and it still made the roads impassable, but Geralt could see, with some difficulty, a timid ray of sun peaking through the thick, gray clouds covering the sky. He did indeed sleep, for a bit, he felt as refreshed as he could ever be.

Glancing at Jaskier, Geralt saw him still sleeping, his face relaxed, messy hair covering his closed lids. There was a slightly frown between his eyebrows, but so soft that it was difficult even for him to notice under the brown locks of his fringe.

Geralt swiped them off with the lightest touch he could gather so not to wake him up, then turned around and left the room.

The common room was almost empty, if not for Borch, the two Zerrikanians, and the innkeepers. “Most of the patrons went back to their home the second the storm calmed. After all, their houses aren't so far away.” one of the innkeepers was muttering, “Didn't even pay for the rooms, those whoresons.”

Not even an hour later, the storm increased again, with more force, with more violence it hit against the walls and doors. The sky darkened, it was an ominous scene.

“This looks like a catastrophe.” the other innkeeper said, “If it keeps like this, the land will become a giant swamp, and nothing will grow up again. If it keeps like this, our rations will end, and we will all die.”

“Always the same, you shithead. Stop being so gloomy, it's just the second day!”

“Myths spoke of a similar catastrophe cast by an angered God. It lasted forty days and forty nights, to drown the evil on Earth.” Borch said, calmly. “Just myths, they were. Evil is still on Earth, after all.”

The skies are enraged.

Moments later, Yennefer walked down the stairs, followed by Jaskier. They were talking in hushed tones, so low that Geralt couldn't understand most of the spoken sentences, but for the look of it Jaskier did not seem happy with their argument. Yennefer, though, she looked smug, a cutting grin baring white teeth.

Geralt felt something , something ugly and slimy kneading his mouth at their camaraderie. He felt left apart, abandoned, ignored. It was a feeling he should be used to – it was a feeling he always felt with Yennefer, it was a feeling he always made Jaskier feel – but somehow he felt the injustice of it burning on his cheeks, like embarrassment, if more humiliating.

He hated it, this weakness.

“I'm sorry, Yen.” he then said, because what else he has to do? Beg forgiveness, drop into his knees in front of her and say that what he did was wrong, but he just did it to save her. Not to see her die right after saving Jaskier's life, not to see her die after she mended his mistake which would have killed Jaskier, drowning him in his own blood that Geralt helped spill. “I had no right to do what I did, but I don't... I can't regret it.”

“Well, well.” Yennefer snorted. She sat gracefully on a chair, and looked up at him with an elegant black eyebrow arched. “You are apologizing. For someone else it might be enough, but not for me, Witcher.”

Geralt gritted his teeth. “Would anything be even enough?”

“I am kind of disillusioned, to be honest, now that I know the truth. Things I could not comprehend before are now clear, and bitter. I do not know what love is supposed to be, of course,” she pursued her red lips, then looked around until her violet eyes stopped on Jaskier – Jaskier that was standing still in front of a window, watching the hell outside. His back was tense, his hands were trembling so slightly. He was close enough to be hearing everything Yennefer and he were talking about. Strangely, Geralt felt guilty. “But I know that ours wasn't love yet. Not a love that matters.”

“Could be, one day.”

“Sure.” Yennefer sneered, “But am I willing to wait? With the risk that once we break the Djinn's spell, all will be lost? I am not an hopeless puppy like your bard,” at that, Jaskier flinched, “I will not wiggle my tail at every scrap of attention you'd deign to give, to be then discarded when you will get enough of it.”

“Like you've done all this time with me?” Geralt growled.

“Like you've done all this time with the bard.” Yennefer replied, unapologetic.

They stared at each other for long moments, Geralt trying so hard not to turn and look at Jaskier again. He didn't want to acknowledge that those words were true and how much effects they had on him. “Why do you care? You can't even stand Jaskier, damn it!”

A thunder fell just outside the window Jaskier was leaning on. He shouted, scrambling away from the shaking – cracking – glass, and it was not long before another thunder fell, and the window shuttered.

Geralt fumbled up from his table, but Jaskier didn't get hurt, just soaked in the rain gusted in as he fell on the floor in fear of it. He whimpered, and brought a hand against his chest. In the chaos surrounding them, Geralt could clearly hear his heart beating like a war drum, louder than any noise, more deafening than the storm outside.

Yennefer went and, with a flick of her fingers, the window returned whole again.

“Fucking hell.” Jaskier creaked, “What the fuck is happening?”

Geralt looked out, and the gray of the storm became black, filled with blue and white, blinding stripes that made the land shake. Trembling like Jaskier's fingers tightened around a chunk of his own red doublet.

The skies are enraged.

And they were bringing down on Earth all of their anger.

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

read the rest on ao3!

#geraskier #yennskier #yennralt #geraskefer #geraskefer fic #the witcher fic #mine:fyccina #i still don't know why i wrote this #but i guess i have just to follow the flow am i right #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #yenneralt #yenralt #yenskier

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pluto-art · 4 years

Text

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind.

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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pokedash55 · 3 years

Text

Raincloud HC and Mini Fic

BENTHOMAAR/VANIA HC DUMP.

CAN BE READ PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC BUT THESE TWO WOULD BE PERFECT FOR EACHOTHER EITHER WAY

Inspired By @parachutingkitten

- They saw each other at the nya tribute but didn't get to actually meet

-Bentho became king of merlopians but struggles with citizens seeing him as a real king, as many still are distrustful of the surface world

-He has gluttonous there as the royal scientist and Gripe helps him out, but the citizens still don’t view him has a true king after what happened with Kalmaar

-Bentho and Vania have a cordial meeting for royal business

-Vania is struggling less with her people and more with her city economically recovering.

-Bentho wants to bind the kingdoms somehow, since her kingdom is so inland that if they had good relations with a mountainous region it's one step closer to accepting him.

-They are skeptical of SURFACE DWELLERS not humans so it's a good try.

-establishes trade and economic relations with each other. Maybe trade or sell deepstone and bioluminescent stones for jewelry and architecture in return for some shintaro product unavailable under the sea. Maybe a metal or type of cuisine? Not sure. Flowers perhaps since they have so many in the garden.

-Both relate to having less than respectable family members and share experiences with defeating them

-share new ruler problems they face and can relate to each other very well

-benthomaar can keep up with the bubbly energy of Vania and they both have a backbone to keep their bond from being too unhealthy, fluffy and overly optimistic.

-bentho has trauma from kalmaar's abuse and goes overboard to try and impress vania and thinks he has to be the best damn guy and best royal ally possible to keep her current friendship

-Vania is pretty easily impressed and is very vocal with her admiration so he'll be overwhelmingly happy and confused when she latches on so quickly.

-she'll show him around the sky city, bentho never been so high up, and can introduce him to her allies down below.

-Bentho loves the caves much more than the city in the sense that it's more comforting and all the underwater streams and lakes remind him of home.

-all streams lead to the ocean so I'm not surprised if they find out the water is connected to merlopian seas some how

- this can also work to compliment the kingdoms

- Like Merlopia can reach out and achieve diplomacy with another kingdom instead of being so islationist, and shintaro struggles with moving on from a unsustainable and horrific economic system so they could help eachother alot.

-Both very isolated so coming together may be a good step for both countries’

-Merlopians could be accepting of geckles and munce since they live below the surface, and the shintarins live high above it (so they couldn’t flood it even if they wanted to). It’s baby steps towards liking the rest of NINJAGO as a continent.

-When they become closer friends she Opts for calling him Ben or Benny, since she is so outgoing and bubbly like that, but immediately backtracks and asks if it was ok and apologizes, saying she went over the line

- He would stand up for himself and deny BENNY but I think Ben would be a cute name between the two uwu

-Benthomaar is naturally formal in his ruling and has to push himself to relax while Vania is very lax and friendly with her ruling but needs to push herself to be demanding and formal (She took awhile to use the “Princess” card against Halmaar, opting instead for mutual understanding)

-ok quasi-fic time

___________________________________________________________

FIC SKELETON (might finish writing someday but here’s the basics with some interaction)

summary: : They spend the day learning about each other kingdoms, and in turn eachother.

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 1: Shintaro

Vania goes about giving Bentho a tour of her city and he is overly courteous of her. She finds it cute at first but then she starts worrying if Benthomaar thinks she can’t handle herself.

Introduces Bentho to Chompy. He finds the dragon very cute and that gets a big smile out of him, really showing off his very sharp teeth. Chompy loves him immediately and starts to climb over him and sit on his head and stuff. Bentho reciprocates pretty much immediately, no stranger to the values of an animal's unconditional love. (The only love that ever seems unconditional in his experience.)

He has trust issues from Kalmaar and tries extra hard to earn love so he goes overboard sometimes, he’ll be the sort to open doors literally all the time, agree with her ideas more aggressively than is really needed, go out of his way to try and physically protect her from perceived threats, etc. Not knowing this fact, and being insecure about her own leadership skills, she thinks he is babying her, or worse, pitying her. She eventually tells him that she can indeed handle herself.

“I can handle myself Benthomaar, you don’t have to do all these things for me.”

“I… Know that”

“You’re very sweet and I appreciate your generosity but… this”, gestures to all the things he bought or given or made for her, and gestures to the situation they were in where he immediately went to protect her from, “simply is too much”

The walk back is a tad awkward after that. Bentho remarks he’s never been so high up before and he does seem very dry from the heavy winds and cold air.

Good thing it’s about time to show him the lower parts of the Kingdom anyway.

“Halmar, I am escorting Benthomaar down through the mountain. Can you be in charge while I’m gone.”

“As you wish my queen”

Benthomaar looked the armored man up and down. “Halmaar? Are you of royal blood too?” he asked.

“What?” Halmar bluntly questioned aloud to the merlopean king before sputtering out in a bow, “I mean, Pardon?... Your majesty”

“Benthomaar this is Halmar. My right hand advisor and head of our defensive force.”

“Oh. In my people, -Maar is given to that of royalty. ‘Halmaar’ means Brave Sea. ”

“Well I can assure you he’s very brave.” Vania beamed as Halmar recovered from his bow. “And will protect the city while I'm gone” she reminded him playfully, as she moved benthomaar out of the temple.

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 2: The Dungeons

Going through the dungeons vania remarks on her father’s previous ruling over it. They share stories and struggles.

Talks about her father and how the ninja came to help. Goes into the topic of her ruling struggles.

“Now that I have helped bring King Vangelis, my father I mean, to justice, people expect me to fix everything. They come to me asking for plans to retain Shintaro's glory, or with pleas for more funds. The people put so much faith in my father and, although his actions were Terrible… it made the city so wonderful for everyone living here. I don’t think I’ll be able to make Shintaro prosper the way he did. I love my people but they expect so much of me all at once. I admit It is very difficult to keep track of it all.”

“That sounds rough, but at least your subjects care for you. The people of Merlopia don’t see me as their king...and they have every right to. I helped the surface dwellers and my actions led to Kalmaar’s death. In their eyes I am a traitor…. Many don’t follow my commands unless they are directed through Gripe. It’s understandable they won’t respect me… I was adopted after all...”

“Well I respect you. Why, from the past--” counts on her fingers with a tongue sticking out “-- three hours I’ve officially known you, I’d say you’re a wonderful ruler! I hereby royally dub you a great king! You can tell your people that!”

*Small air laugh recovering from his Sadness* “Thank you, Vania. I don’t know how much they’ll regard a compliment from the mouth of a ‘surface dweller’, though”

*Smol vania /hj sad pout to one side*

“But I appreciate it, really!!” He corrected arms waving at his front, trying to recover from his previous, in his eyes, disrespectful remark (also in his eyes failing horribly at doing so. He needs to queen to like him. This isn’t going well and-)

“I know you do.” she beamed, “ Now Come on, I see the cart tracks we’re getting closer!!” she happily stated, almost skipping past the new King.

Bentho looked onward at the long haired blond who was trying to walk and balance on the rim of the track, and smiled with relief that she is so easy going at him. He essentially disregarded her royal decree to her face and she brushed it off like nothing. Trimaar had always honored heavy respect towards other royals but it seems this Queen runs things very differently. Even the day had been tame. It felt more like some playdate than an official royal gathering,but with how stressful becoming King had been it was a pleasant change of pace.

“Hey Bentho! We’re HEeeereee!” Vania waved excitedly as the other royal caught up to her standing near a steep ledge leading down to an opening with a large passageway.

Have to go down a large mountainous trench first to reach the dungeons. Benthomaar prepares to scale down the cliff but Vania brings out her wings and tells bentho to hold on. She flies him down the cave--

(Flying is vaguely exciting, but also vaguely terrifying. He’s never really had to deal with the possibility of falling before. Buildings in Merlopia aren’t that tall and you literally can’t fall underwater, there’s always something supporting you.)

The two meet up with the chancellor of the geckles first. He welcomes Queen Gania and her friend Genthomaar and he asks first for trial by mino, but Vania orders him off. Scoffing at her majesty’s boring overriding of their usual procedures he opts for a simple vote for bringing the new unfamiliar face to the munce queen. Bentho gets rocks thrown at him and the geckles cheer as they escort the two to where murtessa is. Vania giggles at him.

Next up is the muntz.

So she'd challenge him to a quick duel to see if he is a fitting ally. Naturally Benthomaar rocks with a spear, so he's good, but he'll be really confused at first and probably not want to fight her.

He doesn’t win, but Murtessa sees through his fighting that he has a good heart, and a brave one. She declares him an ally of the Munce. King Menthomaar. And then gives him a hearty slap on the back and invites them all to dinner. They politely decline (Vania, to preserve her stomach. Munce food is, ah, something else.)

Murtessa thinks Bentho is a good kid and a good fighter. She thinks it's funny how polite he is, though. Gives him some royal advice that he’d be a little better off if he would carry himself like a king. “Confidence! Important in every Munce ruler!”

Bentho finds her and Munce a bit...much, but they also kind of remind him of the Maaray back home so he also finds it kind of familiar. (Also he doesn’t know it, but shark Merlopians are kind of rough and tumble, too. Like Munce, but without tight knit families or a set kingdom.)

________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 3: Merlopia

Goes back to the temple to discuss whats next.

“If we are going to be partners in this royal engagement, I think you should see My homeland. Merlopia”

Vania just laughs at his wording

“What did I say?” Genuine confused babi just trying to be overly courteous cause he feels like he must be a GOOD KING. ULTRA KING.

Brings her to the beach. He signals her to wait there and he dives into the water to ask nya for some help in bringing Vania down the depths. She knew the bare basics of what happened but seeing nya in such a state made her a tad saddened.

“Nya. Can you help bring my friend to Merlopia?”

Nya nods all slow and goddess like. “You helped me defeat Wojira, correct? For that I’ll grant you this.”

“Thank you, nya”

“That’s NYA??”

“Do I… know you.”

She just frowns at that question. She knew she and nya were not super close but to be forgotten like that. Ouch. “I guess not”

Nya makes a large air bubble and descends quickly down the depths. And like cool camera pans and junk and bentho is riding the wave nya is making outta the bubble and vania sticks her head outta the bubble for a sec to meet his gaze and feel the current go by. Fluff insues

“Don’t worry there is air in the palace”

Vania just loudly exclaims in relief cause honestly she was prepared to be living in a bubble forever.

Nya just...disintegrates. Which is a bit strange to see, even for Vania who usually likes weird stuff. But she doesn’t linger on it long because ooooohhh Merlopia is so pretty! I mean Shintaro is pretty too but this is a whole different kind of pretty. It’s like the gardens of Shintaro, but that’s the whole city. It’s so colorful compared to the flawless Ivory City.

They tour around a little bit, with Vania looking at everything in interest. She even likes the Royal Ripper Sharks (who are being treated a bit nicer now that Kalmaar is gone, and are sicced on people far less frequently than before.) Benthomaar gets a bit nervous when Gripe runs up to him with a bunch of kingly concerns and kind of tells him a lot of noncommittal responses.

Since they declined dinner with the Munce, Vania’s stomach starts rumbling, and she embarrassedly admits that she was pretty hungry.

Benthomaar invites her to dinner in Merlopia.

They eat while discussing trade stuff and diplomacy? (And also their day and the G&M and such.)

Also a fun chance to make up some Merlopian culture and food, and for him to share it with her. Unsurprisingly, it’s a lot of fish. But that’s honestly great because they don’t have a lot of that in Shintaro. There are a few streams a hike away that she's had every now and again, but for the most part fish isn’t something eaten often in Shintaro.

Benthomaar is pretty happy with this set-up because he had been eating dinner all by himself which was very lonely and wistful. It's much nicer with her company, and he needs her to know that, and really wants her to stay around and to like him so that they can do this again. So his super-manners-having-to-prove-himself-worthy-of-friendship kick in again and he starts getting super formal and passing her stuff and offering dishes a little overzealously and such and she's like "this again what the huh?"

“My lord, you're...doing it again.”

“Sorry, I’ll do better.”

“Better? You’re doing just fine. Really. The meal is great, the presentation is beautiful, and you’re being so kind. I just...don’t need this much attention at once, that’s all.”

No I’m not it’s not good enough. I’m not good enough. * frowns silently * *internal screaming *

They decide to meet again later to discuss trade and commerce deals and both bow goodbye after dinner, but soon as she leaves the dining room and gets lost roaming the temple (this palace is constructed like the caves how do they find anything) eventually ends back up at the dining room, where benthomaar is cleaning up the table and stacking the used dishes and they both realize that she can't get back up on her own. They share a laugh and Bentho promises to escort her back up.

Vania wonders why he is cleaning and not the palace servents so she decides to help him clean up, since it seems his people weren’t going to.

The end

(Also Nya is busy being a goddess somewhere else, so they’ll have to get her transportation back at a later date. With any luck there’s an air-breather-friendly manta saddle that they can use for her.)

________________________________________________________________

They are too precious for this world someone please do more of thisssss

#ninjago #ns15 spoilers #ns15 #ninjago seabound #ninjago seabound spoilers #benthomaar #ninjago benthomaar #ninjago vania #vania #Vania X Benthomaar #raincloudshipping #ninjago raincloudshipping #raincloud #ninjago nya #nya smith

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

64. I didn’t know my ex moved so you find me curled up on the floor in front of your apartment door

Ot4, nsfw, please!

Here you go!

Duck didn’t mean to fall asleep in front of her cave. But there was no one home and the rock in front of it is just the right temperature to coax him down into a nap in the spring sunshine.

“Um, can I help you?”

His nose tells him the voice belongs to another dragonborn before he opens his eyes. It’s just not the one he’s hoping for. Instead of blue scales and muscle, he finds blue eyes staring down at him while black and white scales glint in the afternoon light.

“Uh, I, uh, do you know the dragon who lives here?” He didn’t think she’d move on that fast.

“I am the dragon who lives here.” The other male adjusts the satchels on his shoulders, one laden with food and the other with books, “I moved in a week ago.”

“Well...fuck.” Duck slides off the rock with a groan, “sorry, didn’t know the place changed hands. Didn’t mean to, uh, crash on your front porch.”

“It’s okay. I was hoping to meet more of our kind here.” He writes a glyph on the door and it opens, “do you want to come in? I got some nice wine from town and, um” he scratches at the stone, “no one to share it with.”

“Sure.” Duck follows him through the familiar front hall and into the kitchen. The furniture is different, all clean lines and polished wood, and there’s new art on the walls. He reads the spines on the stack of history books on the table while his host pours them each a glass of wine.

“Thanks” he takes the goblet, “I’m uh, I’m Duck by the way. It’s a nickname.”

“Joseph.” The other dragon sits across from him, “I take your...ex lived here?”

“Yeah” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “we end things a month ago but, uh, I was missin her and I, uh, I, I, fuck, nevermind.”

Joseph sniffs the air, “surprise heat?”

Duck nods, “I was kinda hopin for, uh, for a pity fuck or somethin. Fuck, that sounds pathetic.” He rests his head in his hands.

“There’s no shame in wanting intimacy.”

“Guess not. Uh, enough about me, how’d you end up here?” He prays Joseph takes the hint.

“I travel around studying humans, trying to bring a greater understanding of them to our kind. My hope is it’ll help keep the peace, since we’re less likely to fear or attack things we understand. Kepler might be the place I settle; the town is a great mixture of dragon and human cultures.”

“So you just...study everythin they do?”

“Right now I’m focusing on technology. Hence the, um, the scars.”

“Oh shit” the white zigzags and bursts that Duck assumed were simply markings are, in fact, scars, “what happened?”

“Mostly minor accidents, like you’d get cooking or gardening. This one” he gestures to the white on his cheek, “is embarrassing; I was so engrossed in my research I didn’t notice the experiment I was running was about to go haywire.”

“Ouch.” He hazards a joke, “hate to see what your hoard is like, probably, uh, shock me.”

Joseph smiles, “I don’t really have one, it’s a pain to move it every time.”

“Not even a little pile?” Duck raises a brow; there’s a magpie-ish quality to the other dragon that suggests there’s a collection hiding somewhere.

A faint dusting of gold on his cheeks, “I do have a, um, a small stack of books.”

“Can I see?”

“Of course. This way.” He leads them to the master bedroom. A wave of unwelcome nostalgia hits Duck as he enters, and he’s about to excuse himself back to the kitchen when a giggle climbs up his throat.

“A small stack, huh?”

Joseph settles on the cushions at the center of three towering bookcases, each crammed full, “I don’t have that many. I once met a wyvern who had whole hills of books. I like them like this so I can actually find things.”

“Hate to say it Joe, but this is an honest to gods hoard.” Duck kneels near him.

“Joe....huh, I like it when you call me that. Normally I hate it. And it’s a library, not a hoard.”

“If you say so. Uh huh, what’s this?” He crawls to where a pile of puzzles toys and games is hidden between the bookcases, “seems like the makings of another ho--oh hell yeah” he grabs a box, “Minotaurs Riddle, I fuckin love this game. Haven’t played it in years, lent mine to a trio of centaurs and never got it back.”

“Do you want to play a few rounds? I, um, I don’t have anything urgent tonight but if you have things to do-”

“Nah, got all my shit taken care of early in case...uh, well, you know.” Humiliation at his earlier desperation rears its head.

Joseph drags a low table over, “Then it sounds like we could both use a night off.”

Three hours and two bottles of wine later, they locked in a stalemate, Duck scanning his cards for a way to break it. He’s never had this intense an opponent before and it’s so fucking fun.

“I play the hero's spear BUT” he flips a card facedown, “on my own chariot, which opens up the way for my chimera to attack.”

Joe’s eyes flick between his hand and the board, pupils no more than slits as he concentrates. Then he sets his cards all facedown, “I don’t have a counter-move, so you win.” His grin is fairytale perfect, “that was great! And now I know your method of play so I can beat you next time.”

“You wish.” Duck doesn’t mean to growl as deeply as he does.

“It’s not a wish, it’s a promise.” Joe boxes up the game without ever taking his eyes off Duck.

“If you say so. But if you break it” he curls his tail around to stroke black scales, “think I oughta get a prize.”

Joe’s responding click-growl is unfamiliar, could be anything from agreement to “leave me the fuck alone.” He starts to retract his tail only for Joe to close his claws around it.

“I think you should get one for your win tonight, too. You did come here in a, um, a certain state.”

“Ain’t you the polite one.” Duck shoves the table aside and prowls across the pillows, “offerin that stylish tail up for meWHOAH, fuck.” He laughs as Joe, lightning quick, lunges forward and traps him on his back.

“Sorry, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since you got here. Gods” he undoes the wrap at Duck’s waist with a hungry growl, “do you have any idea how hard it is to think strategically with all of this” he runs his palms up Duck’s chest, “on display. Once I’m done give your body the attention it deserves, then I’ll put my ass in the air for you.”

“You drive a hard bargain Joe, but I’ll take it.” He grins as the other dragon gropes his thighs.

“Good. Besides, this is a proven way of getting over heartbreak.”

“Think that theory might need a little more testin. So get down here and kiss me.”

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

“Interesting.” Joe taps the bottle with a claw as he studies the ship inside it, “you really don’t know how they do it?”

“No fuckin clue. I can build model ships outside bottles, but this? This is wild to me.”

“I wonder if we-” Joe raises his head, inhales, and breaks into a dazzling smile, “dinner’s here! You can come in Barclay, we’re in the sunroom.”

Footsteps on stone announce the cook, who Duck usually sees at Amnesty Lodge down in Kepler.

“Didn’t know y’all did delivery.”

Barclay sets a bag crammed with tins and bottles onto the table, “We don’t usually, but Joseph’s a special case.”

Duck spots the blush on his friend’s cheek, “Oh yeah?”

“He, uh, he lets me test new recipes on him?” Two pink patches bloom under Barclays' beard, “there’s a berry custard tart in there today.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Joe’s tail is subtly twitching, “do you want to stay a bit and eat?”

“I’d love to, but I gotta get back before the dinner rush.”

“Right, right, of course, oh, right, your tip” the dragon darts into his study, returns a moment later with a small purse of coins, “here you go, thank you so much it, I’ll be ready for our cooking lesson on Tuesday and, um, it’s always nice to see you.”

Barclay pockets the money, smiles softly, “you too, Joseph. Bye Duck, see you in town.”

Joe watches him go long after he’s out of sight. When he turns around with a sigh, Duck smirks.

“You got it bad, Joe.”

“I know.” He slumps down in a chair, “I think he feels the same way but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Coming out to a dragon’s lair and getting hit on, all while you’re at work? It would stress me out if I was human.”

“You pay him for those cooking lessons?”

“No. I, um, I guess I could ask him then but dragon/human relations are understudied outside of things like midnight weddings. I’m not even sure how something like sex would work, if it would work at all. The books I have on it are out of date and, honestly, most likely written by dragonborns who never had firsthand experience.”

Duck stands, circles the table to drape his arms over Joe’s shoulders and nose his neck, “You could still just ask. Learn what he likes instead of fussin over research.”

“You’re right. I’ll ask. Eventually. Maybe.”

He chuckles and nips a sensitive patch of scales, “It’s a start.”

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

Duck’s busy in the back garden when the chanting starts. It sounds enough like an angry mob that he draws the thicket of brambles across the door to be safe before heading for the second floor and the window to the front yard.

The crowd isn’t from Kepler, people there know he isn’t much for offerings or other forms of intervention into human affairs. He inherited his position from a true dragon who was once considered a forest and weather god. It took years for humans who came to understand that while he could help them identify what was killing their orchards or blighting their fields, he couldn’t summon rain or quash frosts.

Not only do the humans out front seem unaware of those facts, they’re constructing a convoluted, cobbled-together, ceremony. There are offerings of food, but the chants have something to do with slaking his deep hunger. Which is weird, because when you offer food to a dragon it’s meant as a gesture of kinship, not fear. The music doesn’t match either of those dynamics, the robes on the elders are white, which indicates surrender in war, and the incense they’re lighting is too heady; if he eats with it in the air, all he’ll taste is myrrh.

Wait, those are the bundles of incense humans used to burn during weddings. No one’s held a midnight wedding in decades. And holding one when it’s not yet sunset is really baffling. He’s about to write it off as yet more cultural miscommunication when two men drag a bound figure, all dressed in black, out from the crowd and drop it near the door.

“Fuck.” He tromps down the stairs, peers through the thicket for a closer look. The figure is a young man, dirtied silver hair tangled across his face and shattered red spectacles on his nose. His ankles and wrists are tied, and when he tries to scoot back from the cave entrance the crowd jeers. The man looks sluggishly between the crowd and the cave. Resigned, he crawls Duck’s way.

The dragon sets a hand on the thicket to will it away and tell everyone to get lost when he scents blood beneath the incense. Members of the crowd are getting agitated, suggesting they light a pyre to hurry the process along. That’s not even remotely how a midnight wedding works, and were Duck a certain other dragon he might tell them that. Instead, he makes a gap at the bottom of the thicket, grabs an enchanted rope from his work closet, and whips it through the opening. Two seconds later he has a cheering crowd outside his house and a petrified sacrifice inside it.

He kneels, undoing his rope and the bonds. The humans brown eyes lock onto his claws.

“Please. Please just make it quick.” His voice is raw, his pleas continuous, but he doesn’t pull back when Duck cups his chin and touches his forehead.

“Fuck, you’re burnin up. Your eyes a pretty glassy too, wonder if-”

“Drugged. To keep me from running or fighting. Not like they needed to. They, they did enough before that.” He hiccups and Duck smells exactly what plants they put into the mixture. They’re meant to make the human body more pliant. More receptive.

Fuckers.

“Okay” Duck keeps his voice soft, “here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna take you somewhere you can lie down and look you over. Once you’re patched up, you can rest.”

He nods as Duck scoops him into his arms, “Need my strength.”

“Yeah, but not for, uh, for what you think.” He nudges the light with his elbow, illuminating the rumpled green of his bed. When he sets the human down on it, he tucks his arms across his chest.

“Can you get your shirt off for me?”

The man reaches one skinny arm under his back, whaps it about, then shakes his head. Duck eases him upright, let’s him slump forward onto his shoulder why he undoes the eyehooks and buttons. The sight that awaits him is grim.

“Fuck, what’d they have against you?” He counts gashes from four different instruments intermingled with bruises in every color.

“Outsider. Came looking for work. Angered the wrong person.”

“They get you on your legs too?”

A weaks nod.

“I’m gonna have to slice the pants off; got a bad feelin I might re-open wounds if I try to pull ‘em free.” He runs a clawtip up the outside of one leg; the human grips him, afraid, though when he runs a thumb soothingly up a newly-bare spot, he sighs happily. Duck’s instinct is right; there are half-healed wounds now oozing blood thanks to the man being tossed about. He instructs the human to lay on his belly, fetches his bandages and disinfectant from the bathroom, and starts water for the tea that will clear the potion from his system.

When he starts on the wounds on his back the human whimpers, weakly clutching the blanket.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweet thing. Know it hurts, but you’ll feel better soon.” He runs the claws of his free hand through silver hair, undoing tangles as he goes. He is sweet; long legs and wiry arms, a face that’s odd but impossible to look away from. Duck wishes he were a worse dragon than he is; he could slip his threadbare underwear down and relieve the effects of the potion another way. Instead he patches and cleans, tips tea between parched lips, and finds one of his smaller robes to protect the skinny frame from falls oncoming chill. When he’s done, the young man is asleep. So he draws the blankets up and goes to sleep in the garden.

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

His body feels like it’s been through a wine press. No doubt a result of the dragon “marrying him.”

No, wait. He’d taken him to bed, run his claws tenderly through his hair, but then he’d tended his injuries and let him sleep unmolested. Indrid rubs his forehead, wishing his foresight hadn’t been so weakened by his weeks in jail; it would be nice to know if this is a sign the dragon is harmless or if he just prefers his food uninfected.

The bedroom door slides open and a scaly figure walks in, nose firmly in a book. It’s not the same dragon as yesterday; this one is sleek, with midnight scales and long, narrow horns. The one who tended him was bulkier, with scales like a forest viewed from above, dozens of greens and golds melding together. His horns were shorter, Indrid remembers because in his fevered state he wanted to rub them. They looked soothing to touch.

“Oh, good morning.” The dragon closes his book, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came in for some scale oil and I’ll be out of your hair.” He grabs a purple bottle from a shelf.

“Wait, please.” Indrid struggles to sit up, “can, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“We were sort of hoping you could enlighten us. From Duck’s description, your delivery was so garbled he couldn’t figure out what they wanted. Or, um, it was clear what they wanted done to you, but not why it should be or why they chose him.”

Indrid’s about to answer when a second voice drawls, “Joe, you better not be pesterin our guest with questions.”

The black dragon looks over his shoulder into the hall with a sly grin, “He asked me first.”

“Uh huh, a likely story.” The green dragon, Duck, steps into the room, pausing to kiss Joseph’s cheek. Oh gods, Indrid understands now; he wasn’t fucked or eaten yesterday because Duck was waiting to share him.

“Since you’re up we can--whoa, whoa what’s wrong?” Duck kneels by the bed as Indrid tries to scramble backwards.

Joseph sets his book and bottle down, “You still think you’re dinner, don’t you?”

“Wh-why shouldn’t I?” Indrid pulls the blanket up to shield himself.

“For starters, we don’t eat humans. And we sure as hells don’t fuck ‘em without them bein’ real eager. Even then, some of us stall.” Duck gives Joe a pointed look, “beyond that, someone dropped you here after torturin you. You need lookin after more than anything.”

“We should get these fixed too” Joseph picks up his shattered glasses, “I might have what we need in my workshop, or we could go into Kepler-”

“We’re near Kepler? Thank the gods.” Indrid slumps against the wall, “It was the last place I stopped before things went south. I should have just stayed there. Instead I got it into my head to keep travelling, find an enchanter to train under and got...well, you saw.”

Duck carefully sits on the bed, as far from Indrid as possible, “Yeah, I did. I promise, nothin like that’s ever gonna happen to you again.”

“And if you’re interested in learning magic, most dragons have some. I’d be happy to share what I know if you’re willing to assist in my research.”

“That means makin sure he don’t fall asleep too close to his experiments.”

Indrid has no idea what those experiments might be, but he decides he’s very willing to find out.

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

Voices echo from the back garden, so Barclay curves left instead of going to the front of Duck’s home. Joseph asked him to bring his next few meals here since he’s helping Duck with an “unexpected house guest.”

He’s anticipating another dragon, almost drops his cargo when he sees how wrong he is.

“Indrid?”

“Barclay! I, when Joseph mentioned we were getting dinner from town I hoped it was the Lodge but seeing you is better still.” The other man is in a thick sweater and is wearing one of Duck’s wraps as a makeshift skirt, “I’d get up to hug you but I’m a bit weak at the moment.”

“I got you.” He sets the bags down and leans in for an embrace.

“I’m glad you fellas know each other.”

Barclay remembers burying his fingers in fine, silver hair while Indrid kissed him and worked his clever fingers inside him, promising he’d make him feel wonderful. He did. Every time.

“Yeah.” He blushes, spots Joseph registering this information and--knowing him--storing it away for later.

He was already making frequent trips to see the dragons, but as weeks give way to months he finds that whenever he’s not working, his feet ache to wander up into the hills.

Tonight, he and Joseph made dinner for the four of them (Indrid’s taken up residence in Duck’s home, and the dragon seems deeply uninterested in making him move). The dragons are on dish duty, so he and Indrid wander back to the library where Joseph has lit a fire.

“You really ought to tell him how you feel.”

“Is it that obvious?” Barclay fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist.

“Very. Then again, I know what desire looks like on you.” Indrid bumps their shoulders together playfully.

“But he’s, uh, he’s got Duck. He wouldn’t want a human, no matter how much we like each other.”

Indrid wordlessly moves to the bookshelves, smile widening as he finds a tome bound in blue leather and brings it back to the rug, “I found this when I was fetching books for him the other day.”

“Holy fuck” Barclay stares at the drawings, faded and labeled with draconic runes but undeniably that of a dragonborn fucking the living hells out of a very happy knight.

“I believe it tells the story of a knight who agrees to take a fair maiden's place as an offering and ends up enjoying his new station in life. It’s clearly been read often, though the anatomy is off in places.” He indicates a drawing in which it’s obvious the human doesn’t have balls to go with his enormous cock.

Barclay wants to say something witty, but all he can think about is gripping Joseph’s horns while he twines his tongue around Barclay’s cock.

“Yes, it’s giving me ideas too.” In the firelight, Indrid’s uncovered, brown eyes are almost red.

“Yeah?” Barclay sets a hand on his knee, “I’m no dragon but, uh-”

Indrid leans in, kissing him gently, “While dragons have their appeal, you are what I want right now.”

Barclay lets himself be pulled to the ground and is suddenly very glad dinner required so many dishes.

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

“I didn’t realize you’d be taking notes while you did this.” Indrid smiles, amused, as Joseph scribbles something at the top of a fresh page. They’re heading down the hall in Duck’s home, Indrid having agreed to be the subject of a very exciting day of research.

“I’m not. Not, not that I’m uninterested but, um, since I need to be able to observe everything, Duck will be the one actually fucking you.”

Indrid stops dead, heart fluttering in his chest, “He...is he just doing this as a favor to you?”

Joseph smiles, shakes his head, and Indrid understands that he was reading all the times Duck looked him over with those green eyes correctly.

They reach the bedroom and step across the threshold wearing twin expressions of confusion; Duck forgoes nesting in favor of a bed, but the mattress, a dozen blankets, and every pillow in the house are now on the floor, the dragon busily arranging and rearranging them. Then he sniffs the air and turns, pinning Indrid to the spot with a toothy grin.

“Why the nest?” Joseph drags a chair across the floor and positions it between the pillows and the fireplace.

“Dunno, ever since you told me that today was the day, I’ve had the itch to build one. Gotta make sure you’re comfortable, sweet thing.” Duck holds out his hand and Indrid reaches for it.

“Not yet. Indrid, please undress so I can make some notes.”

“You’re killin me here Joe.” Duck growls as Indrid moves towards the chair, peeling off layers until he’s naked. Joseph scribbles some notes. Indrid would feel like a scientific specimen were it not for the way the pupils in those blue eyes dilate each time he looks at him.

“I just need some measurements.” He pulls a ruler from the pocket of the notebook and kneels down, gingerly taking Indrid’s cock in his palm.

“I, I should mention that is generally frowned upon when it’s just humans.” Indrid squirms as hot breath skates up the sensitive skin.

“Humans are touchy about size.” Duck adds, settling his claws on Indrid’s hips from behind. He’s good foot and a half taller than the human, which always makes Indrid feels safe in his embrace; those have been more frequent these last few weeks, Indrid using the cold weather as an excuse to cuddle with the living furnace whose home he shares.

“Hmmm, if they have less genital variation than dragons, I could see how size would become the point of competition.”

“Variation?”

“Dragons got all kinds of set-ups” Duck grinds against Indrid’s ass, “Joe and I happen to have the same kind, where we can lay in someone and get, uh, laid in if we want.”

“Laying?” Indrid squeaks, “I, I’m not opposed but I’m not prepared either.”

“Nah, won’t do none of that today.” Duck blows hot breath down the back of his neck, “if you want, we can try some other time. Can even let Joe take notes. And if he’s good” Duck rests his chin atop Indrid’s head and looks down, “I’ll even save some for him.”

Joseph’s head snaps up, eyes wide, and for an instant Indrid expects to be sandwiched between two dragons, which sounds deliciously warm. Then Joseph collects himself, “Yes. I’d, um, I’d like that. But for now, I need one more measurement” his tongue flicks the air near the head of Indrid’s cock, “may I?”

“Please. Ohhhhhhhyes” He moans as Joseph licks his shaft, “that’s lovely, so veryOHgods” he bucks his hips as Duck digs his claws into the meat of his thighs.

“That’s very helpful, Duck, he’s getting wonderfully hard.”

“I aim to please. Now hurry up before I start fuckin him here and fuck up your data.”

“Just a second..there, done. Duck, please kneel, Indrid do the same but keep facing me.”

“Yessir.” Duck pulls them both to the floor. Claws spread his ass open and the tip of one pokes the base of the plug he put in earlier, “heh, you let Joe help you with this?”

“N-no” Indrid cranes his neck back for a kiss.

“I didn’t want to overstep.” Joseph replies matter-of-factly.

Indrid runs his mouth along Duck’s jaw, “next time I’ll make him warm me up with his tongue before putting it in.”

A moan from the chair as Duck rumbles, “good thinkin, he’s fuckin incredible with his tongue. But you better let me watch.”

“Of course.”

Fabric shifts behind him and then Duck’s wrap falls to the floor. The plug joins it and then a solid, ridged cock is teasing his cheeks.

“You ready, sweet thing?”

“Yes.” Indrid pushes his ass back, whines when only the first half-inch is pushed in.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the whole thing. Just gotta go slow, don’t wanna hurt my mate.” Duck pauses, “huh, sorry, that just came out.”

“I don’t mind.” Indrid sets his hands on top of the dragon’s.

“Fascinating.” Joseph scribbles more notes.

“You like the idea of bein my mate?” The question is shy, Duck hiding his face in Indrid’s neck.

“So very much. You make me so happy, Duck, you take such good care of meEEEoh, oh I see.” He snickers as Duck thrusts shallowly and laps at his throat, “you like being a good mate, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah. Wanted to, to do this months ago, wanted, when they gave you to me I wanted to climb into bed with you, fuck you sweet and slow and tell you nothin was gonna hurt you now, that you were all mine, keep this cute little body safe under the covers. Under me.” He thrusts several inches at once and Indrid moans, bounces in his lap in search of more, Duck click-growling each time he pushes down.

“Please, please, I want it all, Duck, pleasepleaseAH, AHhnnnngods” he grabs Duck’s arms as they wrap around him, the dragon bottoming out with a groan.

“Holy shit.” Joseph stares at them, and Indrid follows his gaze down to his lower belly, where the outline of Duck’s cock is unmistakable.

“Oh I like that a great deal.” He whispers, biting his lip as the outline slowly moves.

“Me too. Fuck, fuckin love how small you are, you barely fit on my dick and you’re still beggin for it.”

“How could I not?” Indrid purrs, relaxing against Duck’s chest, “this is going to sound very silly, sweetheart, but please, please” he tips his head up to kiss Duck’s chin, “take me?”

A tender, deep purr, then “anythin’ you want, sugar.”

Indrid lets his mouth fall open, spilling moans across the floor as Duck fucks him with abandon. It’s so much, almost too much, but it’s all he wants, to be taken and cared for by the magnificent, loving creature behind him.

The stretch and drag of Duck inside him is so intense he barely registers his own orgasm, though he cums hard enough to splatter some on Joseph’s leg. Then he’s holding on and whimpering as Duck spills into him, hotter than a human and so plentiful it drips down his thighs before the dragon even pulls out.

“Got what you need?” Duck pants, still holding Indrid to him.

“Yes.” Joseph is purring, gaze drinking in the two of them.

“Good. C’mon, sweet thing, let’s do see how my nest holds up to me mating the fuck outta you.”

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

Duck said it was fine to use the glyph to come in without knocking, so that’s what Barclay does. He sets the cake he made in the kitchen, wanders down the hall in search of the others. They weren’t at Joseph’s, so odds are good they’re here. Muffled voices direct him towards the bedroom, but when he arrives his libido kicks all sensible thoughts from his mind.

There’s a giant mound of cushions on the floor, at the middle of which he can see Duck’s tail, the spines of his back and, occasionally, his head. Indrid’s feet and calves are just visible, so limp he’d worry he was asleep except for the little moans he knows quite well. And sitting by the fire, watching the scene with an obvious tent in his lap, is Joseph.

Two scales snouts snap up into the air. Duck notices him, whispers something to Indrid, who waves and then pulls the dragon back down. The same can not be said for Joseph, who is licking his lips like he’s just seen a gourmet meal.

Barclay smirks, moves to the chair but stays standing, stroking one horn as he does, “I’m not interrupting research, am I?”

“Um” Joseph’s cheeks go golden, “yes and no. I, I really was making notes at first but for the last hour it’s been, um, hard to focus.”

“Wonder why. Wait, holy fuck, they’ve been doing this for an hour?”

“One hour and twenty-four minutes.”

“Knew Indrid had stamina but that’s impressive. Uh” he trails a finger up Joseph’s leg, scales as smooth as he’d hoped, “how long have you been dealing with this?”

“Most of that time.” Joseph’s breath catches charmingly as Barclay straddles him.

“Babe” he kisses the warm column of his neck, stopping to pay special attention to each scar, “I know you’re dedicated to your work, but I’m pretty sure they’d let you join them.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

“My polite dragon” Barclay nuzzles his cheek, “you still deserve to be taken care of, you know that, right?”

Joseph nods, tips his head to the side so Barclay can nibble his throat while undoing his wrap. What he finds is spectacular; a pointed cock with circular ridges and, beneath it, a slit just begging for his tongue to tease it. But since he’s not done kissing him yet, he adjusts his balance so he can close one around the shaft and slide the fingers of the other into the slit.

The dragon makes a series of hurried clicks and growls, throwing his arms around him and kissing his face, “Barclay, you, you’re so wonderful, I never thought you’d want this, ohgoodgods.”

“I do, babe. I wanna know what my whip-smart, handsome dragon likes, wanna make you come apart” He squeezes lightly and Joseph growls.

“I did not wait this long to cum on you while you’re clothed.” Clawed hands grip his ass as Joseph stands and carries him to the nest on the floor, dropping him into it with uncharacteristic carelessness. Which he then remedies by methodically removing Barclays clothes and folding them into a pile.

“Mmmm, hello dearest.” Indrid turns his head to kiss him as Joseph rolls him to face the other two.

“Hey. Gotta say, you look really good like this.”

“Damn right he does.” Duck’s hips stutter and Indrid squirms happily, “heh, shoulda known Joe would pick that for you. He’s got a thing for thick thighs.”

“Huh? OH! Ohfuckyeah.” He moans as Joseph manhandles him to thrust his cock between his thighs. Teeth nip his neck as golden pre-cum streaks his skin. The scales of his cock rub wonderfully on the base of Barclays own, and soon he’s so hard he’s ready to promise Joseph anything he wants for the chance to cum.

Cool, human fingers encircle his shaft. Indrid grins, “I may not be able to move much, but Joseph seems to be more than capable of getting you to fuck my fist.”

Barclay dips his head forward with a groan to kiss his shoulder.

“You don’t gotta worry about movin’” Duck grunts, tongue darting out to Indrid’s cheek, “all you gotta do is lay here and take my cum like a good little mate whenever I say.”

“Yes, yes, oh goodness Duck please, take me, use meAHnnnnn” a whimper “so much.”

“Shhh, s’okay sweet thing, I’m almost done.”

Joseph purrs in his ear, “cum for me, big guy, cum for me while I coat your thighs and, gods, and Duck breeds your boyfriend into next week.”

“Fuuuuck.” Barclay spills helplessly into Indrid’s hand, holds tight to his shoulder and Joseph’s right arm as the dragon cums between his legs. There’s a muffled curse and an “eep” from beside him, then Duck rolls off Indrid and begins licking the humans cum from his stomach.

“I, I think you built a very sturdy nest.” Joseph curls his body around Barclay and drapes his tail over Indrid’s legs to brush Duck’s.

“Thanks, handsome.”

“I also think living with Indrid for months has made your mind assign him the position of partner, hence the nesting.”

“Makes sense.” Indrid murmurs.

“And--oh” Joseph sighs as Barclay kisses him.

“Promise you can share more theories later, babe. Right now, how about napping with your boyfriends?”

Joseph purrs deeper as they all cuddle closer, “I like the sound of that.”

#OT4: Government and their Cryptid Boyfriends #indrid cold/ duck newton #duck newton/agent stern #indrid cold/agent stern #agent stern/ barclay #sternclay #indruck #dragon au #terato

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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

Text

My Beloved, Penis

Fuck it. I was infected by Penis SMP by @demonboyhalo reblogging a bunch of it and the lack of consistent lore bugged me, so I somehow banged out 2000+ words of fanfic about the Penis SMP and how it got started. Lots of internet humor and classic MInecraft shenanigans in this one folks. *slaps roof* This baby can fit so much crack treated seriously, lol. This is also up on my AO3, Zazibine, if you would prefer to read it there.

_-_-_-_

It was never supposed to get so big. It was just an SMP with a couple friends of his he had met from the Hypixel discord server, where he had logged on simply to trash talk the absolute asshole who had dared to kill him last minute in bedwars, only to stumble upon said asshole- going under the name shittyfartbaby69 of all things- complaining to his girlfriend(?) Milfboss in the voice chat. Thirty minutes later of awkward hellos and the manliest of bitching at each other (with Milf chiming in every once in a while to roast them both), and PenisUnavailable had perhaps his first Minecraft friend in, like, forever.

Then Admiral_Anus had entered chat, bitching about his competitor in ABBA Mining and his bullshit bad luck and the whole process repeated. By the end of the day, Penis had three new friends, a private discord server for the four of them, and a promise to meet up with them in Hypixel next Sunday for the ultimate round of bedwars.

The game went spectacularly. Somehow, Admiral had some of the best bridging skills any of them had ever seen, and between Milfboss' terrifying Scottish screaming and pvp and Shitty with his clutch TNT skills, the three of them almost made up for Penis' awful depth perception. They still lost around forty percent of their games, but that was certainly better than Penis' own abysmal record, not helped with his habit of walking off the edge at inconvenient times.

And it was... fun. Usually bedwars was just him playing in his bedroom alone for an hour before he rage-quit and went back to survival for a bit before he died to fall damage and rage quit that too. But shittyfartbaby69 would crack dirty jokes that he'd never even heard of before, and Milfboss would roast him for looking it up on reddit and Shitty would cuss her out as he tried to prove that no, he was being original- all while Admiral would comment of them as if they were a sideshow display. Then Admiral_Anus would turn around and knock an enemy player off their island with some clever pvp and they would all hoot and holler and swear for a while before going back to their conversation, joking about forgetting the topic and starting up a running gag about something new.

And their accents, mmm. PenisUnavailable would never say it, but he really was as American as white Wonder bread and Milfboss' Scottish brogue, Admiral's smooth British snark, and Shitty's shrieking in Australian, well. Ear candy, you know? Even if he teased them mercilessly for pronouncing shit wrong, like "buhguhr". Ppffttt, it still cracked him up how Milfboss had threatened to murder him after the dictionary app on his phone had proved him right that it was actually "Bur-gur", even if Admiral kept insisting it was pronounced "bruh-girl".

Four hours and twenty-eight wins later, they had agreed to meet up the next day to play again, preferably at an hour that wasn't two am for Shitty again. (It was two am for Shitty again, although that was because they played for six that time.) Eventually, it just became a regular thing, them playing bedwars and competing at ABBA Caving- the one game Penis was unnaturally good at, much to Admiral's annoyance- to the point where they ran out of funny jokes about their competitors and the game itself and started talking personal anecdotes.

Milfboss owned a motorcycle. Admiral, entirely independently, also owned a motorcycle, as that was the only vehicle of reasonable speed and style that could actually handle the London traffic. Shitty couldn't drive at all, something about never passing his driving test. Admiral ate cheese at breakfast. Shitty liked to burn his garbage in a metal oil drum in his backyard. Milfboss posted herself singing covers of shit over on Youtube. And it wasn't just real life stuff either- their minecraft skills were also on the table for them all to collectively roast.

Admiral had never seen a single Minecraft Championship. Milfboss thought a flat cobblestone roof was entirely acceptable. Shitty's favorite block was the flint and steel. (That's not a block, sixty-niner. Shut up, is too. OoOh, real clever, 'shut up'! Uh, how about no? How about I fuckin' make you, ever think 'a that? No nono nonono, I'm on two hearts! I'm on two hearts, stop!) It made him curious, honestly. He wanted to see Milf's builds for himself, get revenge on Shitty, see if Admiral really could beat the Ender Dragon with a knockback stick like he said he could.

So he made a minecraft server. And they all joined it. (And stuck PenisUnavailable with the bill, suckaaahhh~!)

Predictably, it all went to Hell in a hand basket pretty quick.

See, it's one thing to play with nutters like his friends in a structured set up like Hypixel games, it's quite another to try and keep a semblance of order in an open world survival server like the Penis SMP. The first five minutes had been him trying to explain the rules and teleporting everyone back to spawn over and over as they tried to "escape the cops," ie, him. The next five minutes was Shitty scream-laughing "scatter!" and other John Mulany references down the mic as everyone ran off to start their houses. Penis, as he was still "god" at that moment, used admin commands to find the closest flower field biome to settle into, hoping for some- ha- peace and quiet.

Shitty, inevitably, ended up trying to settle in the fucking Nether. Like a mad lad, you know, as you do when you are apparently obsessed with all things lava. Milfboss ended up making an oak plank box of a "tree house" in a dark oak forest, while Admiral_Anus picked a nearby swamp for his starter base. Outside of that, they just kinda vibed in discord as they tried to fend off the mobs and get enough resources to try and build up houses that were a bit more than cobblestone towers and wood boxes- er, mostly. Milf kinda just fucked off to go mining, found a skeleton spawner by chance, and made a set of iron gear to stand in the dungeon room with to just chill and kill mobs for a while. She ended up with something like 45 levels and burned her only diamond on an enchanting table so she could buff the Hell out of her iron weapons and armor.

Penis, rather typically, he though to himself, put together a basic sheep farm and started work on a cute little cobblestone cave base. He managed to get a whole twenty by twenty block room done and fully furnished before he noticed the chat full of Shitty's death messages and went to go investigate. After nearly dying in lava twice, he managed to find Shitty's pile of items floating on a basalt pillar about a hundred blocks out from his... base?

It was a soccer ball. Shitty's base was a perfect fucking spherical soccer ball made up of quartz blocks and basalt. Just. What. The Fuck??? Then out popped shittyfartbaby69 and it was PenisUnavailable's turn to misjudge a jump and plummet right into lava. Fifteen minutes and much shrieking later about losing his diamond pick, and it turns out that Shitty didn't really care about his lost items, as he really only had four gold picks, a stack of dark oak, two furnaces, a bucket, and thirteen cooked mutton to his name. Not even a bed, the fucker. He just ran back to his portal from spawn every time he just burned to death, taking the chance to gather resources on the way back each time.

And no, he wasn't following a tutorial for his "football" base. Jerk. (Although Penis did have to admire his determination...)

The day ended on Milfboss, Shitty, and Penis reconvening back at spawn to try and hunt down Admiral_Anus, who they found later having built a thirty block tall castle of all things. Out of cobble stone and the windows weren't quite even, but still, it was pretty impressive. And of course, when presented with a castle, what can what do but siege it? So they lay siege to the castle and Milfboss curb-stomped Admiral in pvp and laid claim to the throne, crowning herself queen before summarily throwing the rest of them out. It was a good day.

And the day after was a good day. They played dodge ball crossed with hide and seek in forest around Penis' house with arrows supplied by Milfboss. And the day after that, too, where they had a building competition using nothing but cobble stone, specifically to spite Milfboss, who had kicked all of their asses the day before. In fact, three wonderful weeks passed of doing normal Minecraft shit and being friends passed by, and every bit of it was great fun.

And then came the fucking role play.

PenisUnavailable would have liked to preface that with he only participated under duress, but really, Milfboss had been queen for too long and nobody wanted to risk TNT cannoning any of Shitty's nice builds, so. Well, the castle was better than his drafty cave, alright? It was cold and wet and didn't have a proper door because aesthetic (and because it usually took him several tries to work an iron pressure plate door), so there were far too many mobs wandering in at night and spawn camping him. He and Shitty had almost the same number of deaths and Shitty lived in the fucking Nether.

So yeah. Castle time, baby! Daddy needs a new home! And Admiral obviously wasn't happy living out of Milf's awful tree house hot box where they all did drugs together on day fifteen and it still smelled of burnt wheat seeds, aka "weed." It was only obvious that they teamed up to try and take back the castle.

The battle itself didn't exactly go great, but it wasn't exactly horrible either. A lot of shouting shit at each other for fifteen minutes, the majority of which he wouldn't remember until it was too late- something about server unity?- only to find out that it wasn't two on one girl boss, it was two on a girl boss and her "baked out of his mind" henchman, also known as Shitty in a squirrel furry skin.

The ears man. Those stupid (cute) ears.

And then they were running for their lives because Milf had somehow gotten her hands on a flame bow with infinity enchants.

It all culminated in a dramatic stand-off in front of Shitty's Nether Soccer ball, Milf on one side, diamond axe in hand, not a bit of armor on because of an unfortunate run in with lava, Penis and Admiral on the other, picks in hand, threatening to tear down shittyfartbaby69's base. Shitty wasn't online just then to comment, but they could all hear him click-clacking away on his keyboard so he obviously hadn't gone to sleep just yet like he said he had. At an impasse, and unable to justify letting her teammate's home be used as collateral, Milfboss stood down and gave up her "crown," an enchanted golden Prot IV helmet she had gotten off a skeleton from her spawner.

Then the great betrayal, the beginning of the end. Shitty came back online. 96-Cam joined the game, not that they noticed in the chaos. Admiral-Anus cackled wildly and PMed Milfboss the message that Shitty had sent him, giving Team Gay Sex permission to tear down his base in the name of winning the war if it came down to it- making Milf's sacrifice worthless in the end. Penis gave another dramatic speech, circling around Shitty, who was acting weirdly apologetic to Milf about betraying her and still wearing that fucking squirrel furry skin.

"You see Milf, there's one thing more powerful than a girl boss, and when it comes down to wars between kingdoms, there's something you need to remember!" Penis got out his golden ax, helpfully labeled 'Piss Off'. "And that's a dilf with something to lose!" An enderpearl in his off hand and he teleported behind Milf, catching on fire from the lava but still landing the last hit needed to finish her off. She puffed into a cloud of EXP, swearing up a storm, and then Admiral and Penis turned their gaze to the cheering Shitty.

"AAAAAYYY, LET'S GO DADDY!" the squirrel man screeched, wild laughter shorting out the discord voice chat, making him go quiet in patches when the volume overloaded the client. Behind him, Admiral quietly started building a chair out of birch fence posts and slabs.

"Not so fast, shit-ty-fart-baaaaa-byyyyy~, this isn't quite over yet!" Penis fucking chirped, barely holding back his laughter. "You're still a fucking traitor and we can't have you backstabbing us too. Get in the chair for Daddy, okay baby?"

Admiral finished the chair just in time for Shitty to turn around and see the completed monstrosity, shrieking dying off immediately. "Oh screw you, that's just mean. The Hell man? That's not a chair, that's illegal. If you want an electric chair or some shit, just ask. That's just sad." Mentally shrugging, Admiral lit up his work with a flint and steel while Penis pillared up above where Shitty was building an electric chair out of iron bars and trap doors. Admiral nudged Shitty into the chair, Penis dumped a bucket of lava over the edge of the pillar so it flowed over him, and Shitty started giving a soliloquy about how betrayal and how his love for his "Daddy" still "burned strong".

Like his dick. Apparently.

By the time the lava finally hit the floor and burned Shitty to death, Penis was crying with laughter, shrieking down the mike and banging on the desk hard enough to make him forget that his was still on the mouse, making him mine the block under him with the bucket and sending him hurtling to his fiery death too.

It was a good day... almost.

Because, as it turned out, shittyfartbaby69 was actually a tiktokker of some renown and his cam account had record everything. And he had uploaded the bit to tiktok, as you do, where it went viral, where it wasn't supposed to. And Milfboss, who had recently been uploading covers of herself singing old classic Minecraft songs, had attracted the Minecraft fandom kids to her twitter, where she had gone to post her rage about the events of her dethroning and Shitty's execution.

Penis SMP had gotten on. Fucking. Trending. And now everyone was demanding the full clip, their names, their Twitch streamer handles, their characters' backstories.

The masses wanted lore.

Penis watched in disbelief, head in his hands and mouth agape as sugar crash played over a clip of him killing Milf on loop.

They were making memes.

...Oh god. They were screwed.

#penismp #penis smp #fanfiction #minecraft #my writing #crack #crack treated seriously #also on ao3 #penisunavailable #milfboss #shittyfartbaby69 #admiral_anus

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years

Text

The Most Beautiful Place on Earth

Master List

Warnings: Brief fighting and alludes to sex and past violence. Swearing(but you should know that about my stories)

“God I can’t believe how fucking clingy you’re being.” His shouted words bounced off the walls of your shared house, enveloping the both of you in anger.

“Clingy?” You shout back, “All I wanted was one more night with you.”

“We fucking live together, at the end of the night, I’m always back here.”

“Tonight was different. At least when you go on tour, I can see you, I can come visit or call you. This is you leaving for a long time, with no way to contact me.” You couldn’t continue shouting, this argument had been happening since you got back from dinner with the boys almost twenty minutes ago.

“I don’t need to always contact you! I’m not going to die doing my service, and I always come back. After every tour, every long day, I’m always coming home, with or without texting you all the time.”

“And what if one day you don't!” You finally erupt, you didn’t shout, instead spoke as evenly as possible, trying to hold back tears as the real reason you were upset finally came out. “What about when you do get hurt? Do you ever think about what it feels like to be the person that loves you? Every time I hear you got too drunk, or forget to eat or have some girl grind on you for a dance, do you have any idea how much it hurts?”

“So that's what this is about? What, you’re jealous of my backup dancers?”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jiyong? Were you listening to anything else I said?” You sigh.

“What do you want from me?” He demands, throwing his arms in the air, and that's when it happened:

You flinched.

You hadn’t meant to, but when his arms came up, your body responded on its own accord, jolting and shrinking. His eyes went wide, and he stepped forward slightly as your hands began to shake.

“Baby.” He began, voice softening.

“I’m sorry.” You almost squeaked, stepping away from him in embarrassment. “I should go. Good luck with your enlistment.” You sped from the room, not bothering to grab your keys, only leaving the house with the clothes on your back.

Jiyong hated himself at that moment, for not understanding you, for yelling, for hurting you without even realizing it. What kind of boyfriend was he? Calling you was a bust, you had shut your phone off, and not even Daesung, who was your second favorite of the group, could get a hold of you. The following morning, as he was driven to his checkpoint, his heart broke further knowing you weren’t there, and that you might not be there when he was finally free to leave.

Months he spent wallowing in his guilt, not knowing that you had been doing the same. The day he left, you returned to the house, and spent the day lying on the couch in one of his sweaters, crying. You hated yourself too, for the way you had reacted, for yelling, for not just telling him the truth before. How could he forgive you for that?

Days bled into weeks, and weeks into months, but you remained stagnant. Your life was a cycle of sleep, work, eat, repeat until July came around, and the one and only Choi Seunghyun showed up at your door with a bottle of wine, some sushi, and an entire cake. He didn’t give you a chance to speak, instead swooped down with a kiss on each cheek before sauntering to your dining room.

“Seunghyun? Oppa, what are you doing here?” You finally managed to get out, closing the door and following him.

“Well, I was discharged today, and I missed you and wanted to know if you were okay.” He turns back around, waving the bottle. “Are your glasses in the same place?”

“Um, yeah. You know you could have called me right?” The older man shrugs, offering another grin.

“But then it wouldn’t be a surprise date.” You can’t help the surprise that takes over your face. Date?

“Seunghyun Oppa, look-” You begin, watching him raiding your kitchen for what he needs.

“Wow, this is so much cleaner than my house.” He interrupts.

“Listen, what I was going to say-”

“Should we use chopsticks or just eat with our hands?” He turns back to you with a childish grin. You sigh in annoyance.

“Seunghyun Oppa-”

“Ah! I found forks, that’ll work!”

“Oi!” Your shout finally makes him stop rummaging and look at you. “Are you done interrupting me?” He doesn’t answer, just raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re fantastic, you’re an amazing friend, but you never do this kind of thing. The only people who took me out on surprise dates other than Ji were Hyorin and Daesung.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “And if this is some attempt and flirting, I have to decline.” “How come?” He pouts, plopping into one of the bar stools lining your breakfast bar. “Because one, you’re Jiyong’s best friend, and even if we were broken up, I still wouldn’t do that to him. Two, I-” You hesitate, suddenly feeling small. “I love Ji, and I probably always will.”

“Good to hear.” You’re immediately confused.

“What?”

“I’ll be honest, part of me did miss you, you are my best friend’s girlfriend after all, and an honorary member of the group, but I’m mostly here because of what happened before he enlisted.” Guilt swept over you, sinking your shoulders.

“He told you?” He nods, patting the stool next to him. He doesn’t speak for a few minutes, instead simply plates some sushi for you both. You can’t bring yourself to say anything either, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was he was preparing to say. “I didn’t get to speak to him much, but he told me you argued, and he scared you. He said you ran off, and no one could get ahold of you.” You nod along, poking your sushi with the tip of your finger. “He also said, he regretted every bit of it, that he understood where you were coming from, that he never wanted to scare you, and that he wished you had gotten the chance to talk before he left.” He sips his wine, glancing down at your hunched figure. “What’s your side?”

“It’s pretty much the same. We were arguing and I don’t even know why I flinched. I was so embarrassed, I didn’t want him thinking I didn’t trust him, so I ran. I felt so stupid and I couldn’t face him. I’ve wanted to contact him but I don’t know how, or if he even wants me to.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” You nod, finally looking up at the man. “I think you’re both fucking idiots.” You don’t know how to respond, instead you can only blink down at your food. “He’s an idiot for not listening and being a general pain in the ass, and you’re an idiot for not talking to him and running away. Mostly, however, you two are idiots cause you don’t really trust each other as much as you should.”

“I trust him!” You try to defend.

“Then why were you upset about him dancing with other girls?”

“Because one of these days he’s gonna find someone better!” You cave, “Because he’s fucking G Dragon, and any girl who likes boys is gonna think the world of him, he could have anyone and he settled for me.”

“He didn’t settle. He loves you, and you need to trust that he does and that he would never hurt you on purpose.” He lets out a small chuckle. “You should have heard the way he talked about you when you agreed to go on a date, he spent hours telling me all about you. How pretty you were, how smart, and all about your incredible fashion. He was terrified you were gonna think the worst of him and only agreed so he’d leave you alone.” You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you when he tells you this.

“Really? I was so nervous about saying yes, I almost blacked out every time he talked to me.” Laughter from both of you echoes around the empty house for a moment, leaving a smile on your face.

“Can I give you some advice?”

“Something tells me you will even if I say no.” He shrugs, staring into his wine.

“I think you should be there when he gets out. I think the two of you should leave the city for a little while, just the two of you, and work things out.”

“I think you’re right.” You realize, nodding.

“I know I’m right, now eat your sushi, I want cake.”

The wait until October seems too short, but it takes you longer than you’d like to admit to get everything ready for your mini vacation. Five days in Bora Bora, that way if things did go south, you could easily distract yourselves with sunny beaches and overpriced alcohol. You had yet to pack, not wanting to force Ji into this mini-vacation, and also so that you could pack together like you used to. Instead, you had spent the entire day before he was set to come home cleaning the entire house and double-checking your plans with his manager.

All the preparation you had done didn’t stop your hands from shaking as you pulled up to the address you had been given. You were dressed up a little, a Burberry coat over a Chanel sweater, with a few Cartier diamond pieces of jewelry, all of which he had bought you over the three years you had been together. Somehow, despite the effort you had put into your look, he looked so much better with his bare face and military uniform, then again, he had always seemed to look better than you. He was waving to the crowd by the time you finally convinced yourself to get out of the car, and the moment you did, several people noticed you. Fans immediately turned to take photos, a few guards offered you smiles, and his manager waved, catching his attention. The next few seconds passed in slow motion.

First, he turned following his manager’s gaze, and the confusion on his face instantly morphed into one of glee. The bouquet in his hands was slapped against his manager’s chest as he sprinted towards you. By the time he had reached you tears had already begun falling down your cheeks, and you had your arms open to catch him on instinct. Once his arms were wrapped around you, all the pain and regret you had been carrying these past months vanished. Jiyong didn’t hate you, he was here, and he was just as happy to see you as you were him. His cheeks were damp as he pushed his face into the crook of your neck, and your own were no better.

“Are you crying?” You murmur, barely loud enough for you both to hear.

“I missed you so much. I’m so sorry-”

“Not here, babe, let’s go home and talk, okay?” He nods, pulling away slightly to wipe his eyes. He places a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth before turning to the crowd.

“Thank you for coming to see me today! Please go home safely.” He smiles, waving excitedly before moving around the car to climb in the passenger seat.

“Thank you for greeting him so warmly, please stay safe and warm, and continue supporting Big Bang! Fighting!” You call out, waving, “We’ll be leaving first, so get home safely please.” You give the crowd one more wave before getting into the car and driving off, offering his manager a small salute as you pass him. Jiyong’s hand entwined with yours the instant you began driving away.

“I didn’t expect you to be here today.” He confesses after a moment.

“To be honest, I didn’t know if I was going to come myself. Seunghyun Oppa came by the house just after his discharge and gave me some advice.”

“What did he say?”

“He said we don’t trust each other enough. That it's why we were fighting, and why I-” You hesitate, the guilt creeping back into your bones.

“Why you flinched.”

“Yeah.” The car is silent for a moment as you both try to figure out what to say. “I’m sorry, Ji. I don’t know why I flinched. I’ve never thought, even for a moment that you’d hurt me physically.”

“Just emotionally?”

“Yeah.” Somehow, it feels good to say just that one word, though it may hurt him, it needed to be said. “Seunghyun Oppa said we should get away for a while, to work on us.”

“That sounds nice. Where do you want to go?”

“I may have already planned something.” You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips at your own words. “Look in the glove box, the red envelope.”

“Bora bora?” He’s grinning when you glance over at him, “These are for tomorrow.”

“Yes, they are.”

That night feels like both the start and end to something, but you’re not even sure what. Maybe it's the end of whatever you were before, maybe it was just the end of too many lonely nights, but either way, as you lay tangled in your sheets together, pressed together, you know this was the start of an all-new chapter in your lives.

“So, Bora Bora, why there?” He mumbles, fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your bare back.

“Our first date we talked about places we always wanted to visit, and you said Bora Bora.”

“I did, didn’t I.” He chuckles, “Of course you remember that.”

“You don’t remember what I said?” You huff playfully.

“Of course I do.” He defends himself, “I just can’t take you there.”

“Then what did I say?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him properly.

“The most beautiful place on Earth.”

“And why can’t we go?” You pout. He grins, leaning up to press his lips to yours.

“Because the most beautiful place is anywhere I can see you.”

#kwon jiyong imagine #Kwon Jiyong #kwon jiyong imagines #gdragon #g dragon scenarios #g dragon imagines #g dragon imagine #G Dragon #bigbang imagines #bigbang imagine #bigbang

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years

Text

Of Threats and First Meetings

A Brynjolf X F!Dragonborn One-Shot!

Warning: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence Author’s Note: Congratulations everyone, my hyperfixation has gone from Castlevania back to Skyrim! So guess what type of fics you’ll be getting from now until the next fixation??? YOU GUESSED CORRECTLY!

Her legs ached with each step she took, but she pushed through it, descending the steps into The Ragged Flagon. She took note of the intimidating Nord standing at the walkway, but her rope had become too frayed to even pay any mind to his threat as she crossed over the wooden path. She stopped short of the tables and scanned the dingy bar until she came across the man she’d been looking for. Walking over, she placed her hands on the edge of the table and asked, “You Brynjolf?” The scarlet haired Nord didn’t look up from his cards as he lazily retorted,

“I might be. And that might depends on what is it you’re after.” She pulled the chair out and plopped down, listening to the scabbard of her dragon sword scrape against the back.

“I’m looking for an old man named Esbern. He’s in danger and I need to find him before it finds him first.” Finally, he looked up, regarding her with curious green eyes.

“I’ve heard the rumors of the Dragonborn…bound in the scales of dragons…wielding blades made from their bones...” He paused, gazing at the iron mask she wore. “Wearing a mask taken from the Dragon Priest of Valthume.” She narrowed her eyes behind her mask, but kept her voice level as she said,

“Glad to know my reputation precedes me.” She scratched a finger in the table, adding, “I didn’t even have time to get back to Riverwood.” Looking at him, she muttered, “The Thalmor are hot on my heels, and if I don’t find Esbern before they do, I’m in trouble. Can you help me?” He chuckled, laying the cards on the table as he reclined in his chair, quipping,

“Expecting free information, eh? Help me deal with business first, then we'll see how I can help you. Besides, you look like your pockets are a little light on coin, am I right?" She ignored the stab of irritation that soared through her chest and she leaned forward, retorting,

“Let me find him first. Dragons are bad for business.” Brynjolf hummed.

“Passing on a golden opportunity is worse." She could feel her eye twitch as the annoyance began melting into something darker, and much worse.

“I understand you’re probably in need of help, but this is more important.” The Nord shrugged, eyes going back to his cards as he finalized,

“And I'm busy. You help me out, and I'll help you out. That's just how it is." After almost two months of constant running and fighting across the land, being told what to do over and over, no one listening to what she wanted, and counting the two full days of sprinting from Solitude to Riften, something inside her snapped, and she brought her arm up fast as a thunderbolt, slamming the dragon bone dagger into the table. The sound silenced everyone in the bar and Brynjolf barely had time to look up at her before he was jerked forward by his collar, coming face to face with the iron masked Dragonborn. Fury colored her voice as she hissed,

“Listen and listen well you thieving bastard. I have been busting my ass ever since finding out I was the Dragonborn. I have poured my sweat, I have poured my blood, and I have poured my tears into making this work. And still it’s not enough. I’m still being jerked around my assholes who don’t think I’m not good enough to be the Dragonborn. Do you know what I do to assholes who think they have the balls to talk shit like that to my face?” He didn’t say anything, and she spat, “I burn the alive with my Thu’um.” She paused, tightening her fingers, and he swallowed thickly. “You know that dragon that was at Helgen? The giant black one? The one who’s raising all the other dragons back from the grave?” He nodded and she snapped, “That was The World Eater.” His green eyes widened. “Alduin has returned and I’m the only one who can stop him. If the Thalmor kill Esbern, then I can’t stop him, and we’re all fucked. So how ‘bout you do me a favor and tell me where he is before I make you.” For a moment, he didn’t say anything, then he murmured,

“Your guy's hiding out in the Ratway Warrens and paying us good coin for nobody to know about it. Well, until now that is. Tell you what. Go ahead and deal with your business for now. When you're done, find me and we'll deal with mine." Brynjolf pointed to the door leading past the bar, adding, “Thalmor agents went in a few minutes ago.” She let him go, yanking the dagger from the table to shove it back into her belt. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived as she reached behind her and pulled the dragon bone longsword from her back. Pointing it at him, she threatened,

“If he’s dead, then you’d better start running. Because there isn’t a place between here and Oblivion that can give you safe harbor from me.” She spun on her heel, shoving past the older, bald-headed man, and headed for the door. As she disappeared inside it, the older man sat down beside Brynjolf, wondering,

“I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you cave like that Bryn.” The auburn headed man hummed, narrowing his eyes as a deafening shout and pained screams echoed behind the closed door.

“I’ve never been threatened by someone who can breathe fire before Delvin.” He looked over at the older man, a smirk crossing his lips. “But something tells me that she’d going to be back real soon.” Delvin scoffed, a grin playing his lips too as he countered,

“That woman is going to eat you alive.”

#brynjolf imagines #brynjolf imagine #dragonborn imagines #dragonborn imagine #brynjolf x reader imagines #brynjolf x reader imagine #skyrim imagines #skyrim imagine #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fanfic

155 notes · View notes

woodelf68 · 4 years

Text

Mornings

A loosely connected series of scenes throughout Loki’s life, from infancy through a future diverging from The Dark World. 9118 words.

(Note: Loki’s age in each scene is as follows, with the years being the Midgardian equivalents -- scene 1, less than a year old. Scene 2, 5 yrs. old. Scene 3, 10 -- picture kid Loki from the movie flashback. Scene 4, about 15. Scene 5, close to 20, canon Loki as seen in his cell in The Dark World. Scene 6, between 25 and 30, it’s reader’s choice as to how much time they wish to have passed between the last two scenes.)

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The querulous cry of a newly awakened baby rang out in the quiet of the room. From her position with her head comfortably pillowed on her husband’s chest, Frigga held her breath, hoping. Perhaps he -- The cry came again, more demanding. She huffed a resigned laugh and started to push herself up. “At least he waited until we were done.” Odin slid out from under her. “Stay; I’ll fetch him.” Pulling on the robe draped over the end of the bed, he padded across to the cradle on the opposite side of the room and smiled down at his seven month old son, who immediately reached for him. “Hello there,” said Odin, ridiculously pleased, as always, when Loki quieted as soon as Odin picked him up, laying his head against Odin’s shoulder and putting his fingers into his mouth to suck on them. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” He pressed a fond kiss to Loki’s silky black curls, cradling the boy against his chest as he automatically checked his diaper. “Yes, you are. You don’t keep fussing once you’ve got someone’s attention. Now Thor -- well, let’s just say that your brother was always a bit more fond of the sound of his own voice.” While he was more than happy to leave this particular task to Frigga or the servants during the day, Odin was not so incompetent that he could not make quick work of changing Loki into a dry diaper, as he did so now. That taken care of, he picked Loki back up and returned to the bed. “What do you say? Are you hungry? Do you want your amma?” He sat down on the side of the bed and passed Loki into Frigga’s waiting arms. “Hello, my sweet son,” Frigga cooed, bringing Loki under the fur with her and guiding him to her breast. That first day, when a hungry baby had been placed in her arms, there’d been no time to look for a wet nurse, and when Loki had taken the goat’s milk she’d sent for without any problems, she had been reluctant to seek out one, selfishly not wanting to hand him over to another woman every couple of hours. If he was to be her son, she wanted him to look to her for his needs, for comfort and nourishment both, and she knew well enough that there were herbs to bring in a woman’s milk, and had soon found a spell to hasten their effects. They had told the court that she had hidden her pregnancy with magic, lest word of her vulnerable state reach Laufey’s ears and make her more of a target for foul play with Odin and most of Asgard’s warriors away fighting in the war. It had been easy enough to add, to those in her retinue close enough to express concern, that the magic had delayed her milk coming in. She could still remember the fierce rush of satisfaction a few weeks later when she had been able to nurse Loki herself for the first time, her heart whispering “mine ”, that feeling of him becoming really and truly hers. Not born of her body, but nourished by it, and he had thrived and grown apace ever since. If there had been the inevitable whispers that Odin had brought home a war bastard, most died away quickly enough as all saw how she doted on Loki, and Odin had, fortunately, come home for a brief visit around the time that Loki would have been conceived. Loki turned into her now and she felt her milk let down as he began suckling hungrily, his eyes fixed steadily on hers. She relaxed into the comfort of the pillows and furs, running a gentle finger down his snub nose and smiling as his eyes crossed as he tried to focus on it. Odin lay back down beside her and gently took hold of one of Loki’s feet, smiling as the tiny toes curled in response to his stroking thumb and Loki’s eyes cut briefly to him before refocusing on her. “Who’s that?” she asked softly. “Is that your pabbi?” She glanced at Odin and Loki followed her gaze, his small hand starfishing against her. “Yes, it is! And do you know how you can tell, hm? Because you called and he came. There are not many who can command the king of Asgard like that, you know.” Odin chuckled and slid back under the fur, coaxing Frigga’s head onto his shoulder so he could wrap one arm around wife and son both and use the other to run his hand through the long, heavy waves of her hair, shining golden in the gentle early morning light that illuminated the room. “Very true. And two of the three people who can are in this room.”

Frigga made a contented noise and relaxed even further, letting her eyes drift half shut in pleasure. The duties of the day would claim the king soon enough, but in that moment, he was simply her husband, and a father, and she cherished every second of such times.

--------------- “We’re about to be invaded,” Odin murmured, hearing the patter of four small feet and the whisper of hushed voices outside their door. It was his favourite time of the day, that early morning hour when he lay relaxed and comfortable with Frigga and they talked about their plans for the upcoming day.

“One of the perils of having children.” she said, smiling.

“But perhaps also one of the pleasures?” he suggested, smiling back. “Admit it, you will be sad when they have grown too much to come tumbling in like overexcited puppies at the break of day on occasion.”

Frigga laughed. “You are quite right. I shall no doubt be proud of the fine young men they grow into, but I shall miss my little boys.”

"Should I knock? Maybe they’re still sleeping.”

"Knock softly!”

A subdued knock sounded on their door, and Frigga called “Come in!”

Thor and Loki burst into the room, still in their sleep clothes. “Happy Name Day!” they chorused. Thor held up the jar he was carrying. “We got you some flowers.”

“And we drew you some pictures,” Loki added, coming over to the bed with some papers clutched in his hand.

“Oh, thank you, the flowers are lovely! Place them right there on that table, Thor, and come show me your drawings.” She took the papers from Loki and patted the mattress beside her. Promptly Loki climbed onto the bed to snuggle into her side, a small, soft warm presence, while Thor scrambled up next to him and crawled over her body to plop himself down on her other side. Odin sat up and leaned over Thor to see the drawings as well. The top one was done in coloured chalk, perfect for capturing the texture of fur, and Frigga smiled as she recognised the black and orange patches on the rounded white shapes in the center, one large and three small.

“It’s Runa and her kittens!” She’d taken both boys to visit the barn cat and her litter a few days ago, instructing them to sit still and quietly and let the kittens approach them if they wanted to. Thor, ever boisterous, had kept fidgeting and whispering, but Loki had sat perfectly still, enraptured by the three small shapes, and had been rewarded when one of the exploring kittens had wobbled over on unsteady legs and had determinedly pulled itself up onto Loki’s lap, where he’d gently stroked it until it had started purring remarkably loudly for a creature of its size.

“Yes!” He beamed proudly. “Do you like it?’“I do indeed, and I love the flowers you drew around the border; they’re very bright and cheerful.” She moved his picture underneath the other one and saw what Thor had drawn. “Oh, Thor, this is really very good.” She admired the dragon rendered in Thor’s careful pencil work. “I should have you design a tapestry for me.”

“Really?” Thor sounded delighted by the idea.

“Why not? Where is this dragon flying to, for instance?”

“His cave, in a mountain,” said Thor. “And it’s filled with his treasure horde.”

“I hope he’s a peaceful dragon,” said Frigga. “I’d hate for anyone to want to hurt him.”

Thor’s face fell at that, as if he’d already been dreaming about slaying the dragon and winning some glory for himself. “I suppose he could be, if you wanted.”

“I do,” said Frigga firmly. “And perhaps he could have a younger dragon brother to fly by his side?”

“Me and Loki!” Thor enthused. “We could be the dragons! And we live in the cave together and go out and have adventures.”

“That would make a very nice tapestry,” agreed Frigga. “You boys could have it for your room.”

“I’ll start sketching it later today,” Thor promised.

“What about us?” Odin asked. “Can your mother and I live in your cave while you boys go out flying around on adventures?”

“Yes! I’ll draw you two lying at the entrance with just your snouts sticking out. You can be a gold dragon, Father, and you a blue one, Mother. What about you, Loki?”

“Green,” said Loki promptly.

“Well, I shall look forward to this epic picture,” said Odin, ruffling Thor’s hair. “It’s a very good likeness of a dragon, Thor. And I like yours as well, Loki.”

“How big should I make the drawing, Mother?”

“We’ll figure that out after breakfast. Speaking of which, why don’t you two go get dressed and ready for the day and we’ll do the same, and we’ll come collect you for breakfast when we’re ready.” She leaned first to the left and then the right, kissing the tops of her sons’ heads. “Thank you for the presents; they’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.” Loki knelt up on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tightly. “Happy name day, Amma.”

Frigga hugged him back, smoothing a hand over his tousled curls. “Thank you, my darling.” She released him and he slid off the bed, giving Thor room to climb over her and follow suit. He leaned over to give her his own hug once he was on his feet.

“Happy name day,” he echoed. “I’ll help Loki get ready.”

“Thank you, my sweet.” She gave him a squeeze and let him go, watching as he took Loki by the hand and led his little brother from the room. She turned to Odin, beaming. “I think we have the best boys in the entire Nine Realms.”

The skin around Odin’s eye crinkled up. “I’ll remind you of that the next time Thor lets his temper get the better of him or Loki’s curiosity leads him into trouble.”

“I didn’t say they were perfect ,” Frigga said. “Perfect would be boring. And we both know who Thor got his temper from.” She looked at him pointedly.

“I feel like I should be offended but I know you’re right,” Odin admitted. “But if he can learn to channel it, it’ll prove a great asset in battle one day. And at least he got your sweetness of heart to counter it.” Odin leaned over and kissed her.

“Flatterer,” she said fondly. “And what of Loki? What does he have of us?”

“He has your sweetness as well, and your cleverness, and your sensitivity to magic.” Odin looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure what he has of me. My eyes, perhaps,” he joked. “Or my eye; he only ever saw the one.”

“He has your watchfulness,” said Frigga, after a moment of thinking. “He knows how to sit and listen quietly, and remember what he hears. And how to choose his words with care.”

“If he picked that up from me, then I am well pleased,” approved Odin. “Let us hope that he grows up with a taste for politics; those traits will serve him well.” He rolled out of bed. “Come, we had best bestir ourselves before our hungry young dragonlings decide to go foraging for themselves and leave nothing but crumbs and wreckage in their wake.”

Frigga laughed -- but she could picture the scenario all too well. She bestirred herself. ---------------

Loki woke with his heart pounding. Just a nightmare, he told himself, but telling himself that and truly believing it were two different things entirely. It would have been easier if he had been able to simply look to his side and see Thor asleep in his bed, but they had recently been given separate rooms, and he wasn’t sure, at the moment, that he liked it. He sat up, throwing back the covers and swinging his feet down onto the floor. He slipped from his bedroom and made his way across the common room that connected his and Thor’s chambers, the sky outside the windows lit with the brilliance of the stars, and quietly looked into Thor’s bedroom. Thor lay sprawled out on his bed, motionless, but Loki could hear his soft breathing from where he stood and was reassured. He retreated and made his way out into the hallway, and crossed over to his parents’ rooms, feeling the light tingle of the wards that, he knew would permit no one other than himself or his brother to enter once his parents had retired for the night. He passed light-footed through his mother’s weaving room and paused, hovering in the doorway of their bedroom, looking and listening. His parents lay back to back, his mother nearest to him, and after a minute he was sure of the slow rise and fall of the blanket covering her. He moved further into the room, just needing to be sure that his father was all right, too, before he could go back to bed.

“Loki?”His mother’s voice was quiet, sleepy, but Loki nearly jumped out of his skin and couldn’t help letting out a squeak of alarm.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?”

“Nightmare,” whispered Loki back. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Want to come in?” Frigga held up the blankets invitingly, scooting back away from the edge of the bed to give Loki more room. She bumped back against Odin’s solid form and he grunted and woke.

“Hmphm?” he murmured, still half asleep.

“Scoot back.”

Odin obliged, but lifted his head, confused, when Frigga followed after him and spied a black head silhouetted against the dim light of the room. “Loki?”

“I’m sorry, I just had a nightmare and needed to make sure you were all right before I tried to go to sleep again,” Loki apologised again. “I’ll go now.”

“Are you sure?” Odin moved back further on the wide bed, putting space between him and Frigga, and wished all parenting decisions were as easy as knowing what to do when your child came to you upset in the middle of the night. “You could come in between us, safest place in the Nine Realms."

Frigga smiled and moved back towards the edge of the bed, creating a perfect Loki-sized space in between them and lifted the covers higher. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Loki hesitated a second, then his feet carried him forward and he scrambled over his mother’s body. Up close, his father looked strange with his eyepatch left off for the night, but he had seen the scarred socket before, and he only glanced at it for a moment before nestling down between his parents and feeling his father’s arm drape comfortingly over him.

“That’s it,” Odin pressed a kiss to Loki’s hair. “I’ve got you; you’re safe.”

Frigga turned over and curled around Loki from the other side, letting the covers fall back down over them and reaching out to rub his shoulder. “Do you want to tell us about your dream?”

“I wasn’t in any danger ,” said Loki. “I was just...alone, here in the palace. It was completely empty; I couldn’t find anyone. But then finally, I found you. Except you were lying like you were laid out for a funeral boat, and I knew you were dead.” He took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with the scent of her, and felt the lingering dread from the nightmare dissipate. “And then I woke up.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Frigga stroked his hair soothingly. “I’m sorry, what a terrible dream. But I promise you that I am very much here and alive and have no plans to go anywhere anytime soon.”

Odin’s heart ached for his son. It was a common theme that ran through Loki’s nightmares, that of being alone and abandoned. Sometimes he was someplace cold, and crying for help that didn’t come, and Odin knew the source of that one. Sometimes Loki was surrounded by fire, and Asgard was burning around him, and that one worried him. This one...well, he knew how close Loki was to his mother; his mind probably couldn’t think of a worse scenario. “No more do I,” said Odin, hugging Loki just a little bit tighter. He thought of saying something serious, about how he still had a good many years left in him yet despite his age, but decided instead on levity. “You won’t get rid of us that easily.” He tickled Loki’s stomach.

Loki giggled and grabbed at his father’s hand. “Good,” he said firmly. His father turned his hand, slotted his larger fingers through Loki’s own, and left his hand there, covering Loki’s reassuringly. Loki relaxed, feeling warm and safe and most definitely not alone. “You don’t think I’m a baby for not wanting to be alone after a nightmare?” he asked hesitantly, just to make sure.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Frigga reassured him. “I expect you’re still getting used to waking up alone in a room of your own, aren’t you?” She had often enough, through the years, looked in on the boys at night to find them snuggled up together in one bed to suspect that they had found comfort in each other after bad dreams. Certainly Loki hadn’t sought their bed in a while.

“Yes, exactly,” said Loki, grateful that she understood. “I used to be able to wake up and see Thor sleeping in his bed and know that it had just been a dream and that everything was all right.”

“Your mother and I are lucky,” Odin pointed out. “If we have a bad dream, we have someone right here next to us to say that everything is all right and that it was only a dream.”

“I never thought of that,” said Loki thoughtfully. “Do you have bad dreams, Father?”

“I do, sometimes.”

“What about?”

“The usual, I think. Losing someone that I love, being lost. Finding myself in front of a crowd of people and realising that I don’t have any clothes on.”

Loki’s eyes widened and he lifted his head, twisting around to look back at his father. “You have that one, too?”

Frigga laughed. “I think we all have, at one time or another. I used to have that one when I was younger, but no more. I seem to have grown out of it, thank the Norns.” Odin had handled that question well, she thought. Loki didn’t need to be burdened with the details of his father’s nightmares. She heard the first birds begin to call outside, but since the birds had gone to bed hours before she had, she felt justified in ignoring them. “Go back to sleep, little one,” she told Loki softly. “Morning will be here soon enough.”

Loki closed his eyes obediently, and she began to sing softly, the words of the lullaby unforgotten through the years. Frigga watched him, his lashes lying dark against his cheeks, his breathing growing slow, and even, until she was sure he was asleep, and quietly finished the last verse. She glanced at Odin then, to see him watching her, the expression in his eye soft. “I half wish Thor were here as well,” she confessed in a whisper. “Perhaps he’ll come hunting down his brother in the morning. Then I could have all my boys snuggled in safe around me.”

Odin looked amused. “Are you implying that I am one of your boys as well?”

“You are.” Frigga’s tone of voice dared him to say otherwise. “Mine to love, mine to care for.”

“Good,” he said with satisfaction, sounding remarkably like Loki had but a short while earlier, and closed his eye, a contented smile on his face.

Frigga watched her husband and son with a heart full of love. She should suggest that Odin spend some time with the boys tomorrow; both Loki and Thor were always hungry for more of their father's time and attention. And they were old enough now to learn more of the behind the scenes work of ruling the realm; perhaps if she framed it as an educational opportunity, Odin would agree it was worth carving out the time from his schedule. She found Odin's and Loki's joined hands under the covers, and laid her own atop them. falling asleep to dream of the day when her sons would stand side by side and lead Asgard into a bright and prosperous future.

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

“Loki! Why are you still abed? Did you forget that we were going to go hunting this morning?” Thor came bursting into Loki’s bedroom with all of his usual exuberance, undeterred by the fact that his brother was still, obviously, asleep, or had been up until a moment ago.

Loki groaned and buried his head under his pillow. “Changed my mind. Tomorrow’s better. Go away. I’m sleeping.”

Thor spied a familiar-looking book on Loki’s nightstand, the same one he’d been reading last night at supper. “Were you up all night reading?”

“What if I was? Some of us wish to improve our minds.” Thor was quiet for a moment, and Loki had the vain hope that Thor would go away and leave him in peace. Then he felt his covers yanked back, and squawked in protest.

“And some of us wish to go hunting with our brother,” said Thor cheerfully. “Come on, the fresh air will wake you up.” He took hold of Loki’s legs.

“Thor, don’t you dare, I’m warning you --”

Thor pulled.

There was a flash of green. It was followed by a startled croak.

Loki peered over the edge of his bed at the large green frog sitting on his floor. It looked back at him mournfully. “I warned you. Now hop along and stay out of trouble and I’ll change you back this afternoon. If you want to go hunting then, fine, if not, I promise to go to bed earlier tonight and we’ll go tomorrow morning.”

The frog tried to walk, one webbed foot at a time, towards Loki’s bedroom door, before figuring out how to manage his long legs and gave a short hop, then a longer one, and presently disappeared from sight. He was going to be in so much trouble when he changed Thor back, Loki thought, but some things were worth it. He wondered if Thor would brave going to their mother, or if he would have the sense to simply wait the morning out in his rooms. The first option would restore him to his own form faster, if he made it into Frigga’s presence and could convince her of his identity, but it also risked him being seen by a member of the staff and deposited outside in a pond. Grinning at that mental image, he pulled his blankets back up and let his head sink back into his pillow. He reclosed his door with a wave of his hand and sank happily back into slumber.

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

Loki lay in bed and watched the dim lighting of the cell brighten. Morning, he assumed, though really he had no way of knowing, would never see the sky again. How early was it? he wondered. Was the sky still pink and gold from the sunrise, or had it already turned to blue? The constant white glare of the cell bothered him more each day, made him long for the shaded green places in his mother’s gardens (he could not think of her as anything else in his heart), or the dim recesses of the library, lit by the warm glow of lamps, or the muted light filtering in through the curtains in his rooms. At first it had been enough to have a place where he knew he was safe, where he could simply let down all his defenses and rest without fear or pain. He had slept for long stretches of time, those first weeks, while his body healed, waking only to eat ravenously of the food that was delivered to him. He heard the rattle of a meal tray being delivered now, the curt “Breakfast” spoken by the guard before they disappeared again. He rose and went to collect the tray.

It had not escaped his notice that his meals weren’t standard prison fare, that there was usually at least one thing on his tray that was something that he particularly liked. There was always fresh fruit and juice for breakfast, and today, a veritable feast of a mushroom and cheese omelette and hot buttered toast and the spicy sausages his mother knew he liked, because of course it was her doing, he knew that much. There was even, astonishingly, a bottle of elven wine. the explanation for which was in the new book that had accompanied his breakfast tray. He opened it and read the inscription on the flyleaf:

My dearest son,

It seems cruel to wish you a happy name day, but I hope these small tokens of my affection will give you some pleasure on this day nevertheless. I tell myself it is better than last year, when I still thought you dead, and if you are kept apart from me, at least I know that you are alive and well. And I let myself hope that next year will be better yet, that something will have changed, for I refuse to believe otherwise. I will find a way to force it to change myself, if I have to. If you would only tell us what happened to you, give your father a reason to trust you again -- But this is not the time or the place to chide you for that, only know that when you are ready to talk I will be here to listen. And know that I will never stop loving you, nor celebrating the day you arrived in our lives, for you are one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given. As always, I remain

-- your loving Mother

He cried bitter tears then, tears of longing to feel her arms around him again, and tears of regret for his lost life. He wanted, desperately, to see the sky, to breathe fresh air, to walk without coming up against a wall after more than a few paces. Would it change anything if he told? He tried to remember why he hadn’t, that first day when he’d been brought back and paraded before Odin in chains. Spite? Anger? Shame? To show his parents how it felt to have a secret kept from them? Yes, all of those, he knew, but were they worth it? Did he want Thanos to come upon an Asgard unwarned, and unready? He thought of the palace littered with bodies, of the palace empty of life save for the slaughtered bodies of those who had had the chance to fight, and remembered, with a sudden chill, the nightmare that he had had more than once as a youth. He thought of his mother dead, and not knowing until one day a meal tray arrived with plain prison fare, no special treats. No more books. Of never seeing anyone again except the guard who delivered the meals, of never being able to have an actual conversation with anyone again. Alone, forgotten. Except no, Thanos would not forget him. Panic rose up and engulfed him, and he reached for the wine, uncorking it and taking a healthy swig.

The wine helped a little, but he couldn’t truly relax until his mother’s projection appeared in the afternoon and the relief that swept through him almost made him giddy. He thanked her for the gifts, and was ashamed at how the basic courtesy made her face light up like the sun.

“I only wish that I could do more.” Her hand rose, as if she would cradle his face. Loki fought the urge to turn into the touch, lest the contact shatter her illusion, and allowed himself to imagine he could feel the warmth of her hand upon his skin. “Tell me what it’s like outside today,” he said impulsively. “Is the sky blue?”

“It is, clear and blue with a few puffy white clouds floating around. It is just past midday, and the garden is full of the scent of the roses in bloom.”

She seemed to know what he craved, and painted a picture of the gardens with her words that invoked all his senses. And when he didn’t stop her, she continued on with all the everyday details of life in the palace lately, what she was doing to fill her time and then what was going on in the greater Realm, slowly expanding his world. She took it as a good sign, that he was finally expressing an interest in the outside world.

Loki knew her time for him was up when she glanced behind her, as someone obviously came into the room where her body stood.

“I must go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised. “Imagine me giving you a kiss and a hug, and I swear that I shall one day do so in fact.”

“Mother,” Loki said quickly, before she could vanish, the careful “Allmother” that he sometimes used never having become easy or comfortable on his tongue. “Thank you for coming. And what you asked of me -- in the book -- I will consider it.”

Her face lit up again. “I am glad to hear that. And I will never, ever stop coming to see you, not until the day that you are able to come and see me .” She held out her hands to him, letting him be the one to dispel her illusion in the little ritual they had developed, and reluctantly, he brought his hands down on hers, an almost physical pang running through him when there was no solidity of contact and she vanished in a shimmer of gold.

“Husband,” Frigga said cooly, turning to face her visitor. “What brings you here at this time of day?”

“Do I need an excuse to come see my beautiful wife?’ Odin asked, a challenging glint in his eye.

“Well, if you have no matters to bring to my attention…” She trailed off, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she faced him. “I wish to see Loki.”

“Do you not already see him?” he countered.

Frigga froze, had he seen or was he only guessing? His face was that inscrutable mask which served him so well as king but which she hated to see on her husband.

Odin sighed. “I know you send your projections to him, you need not worry about that.”

Frigga relaxed. “Ah. I had wondered, but it seemed better not to bring it up if you were willing to overlook it,” she confessed.

“After that first time, when you didn’t press me further to allow you to visit him, I surmised that you had found your own way of seeing him. I know your abilities, and I know you would not let anything keep you from either one of your children if you thought they had need of you.”

“I would not,” she agreed, steel in her voice.

Odin dropped his head, half turning away from her. “I had no right to forbid you from seeing him in the first place. It was wrong, and it was cruel, and I am sorry for it. I wish that I had a better excuse, but in the moment, I was simply angry that he, too, had chosen to attack what he had sworn to defend. Jotunheim I could understand, to some extent, but Midgard?” He closed his eye briefly, feeling the weight of his years, and admitted the ugly truth about himself. “And I spoke what I knew would hurt him most.”

“Yet not sorry enough to take it back once you had spoken.”

“It would have been seen as a sign of weakness.”

“It would have been seen as a sign of compassion!” Frigga snapped, then shook her head. Anger would not get her what she wanted, she knew that much. “So alike, the two of you are, always knowing the words that will wound deepest."

Odin fiddled with a paperweight sitting on a table, a simple, smooth stone with a design on it that had once been painstakingly painted by a young boy. “I remember asking once, what of me you saw in Loki. I had hoped for a better legacy than ‘cruel’ and ‘obstinate’.”

“It is not too late to fix things, Odin,” she urged. “A wise king knows when to admit he is wrong, and to correct his mistakes instead of letting them continue unchecked because he is not man enough to face up to them. When has Loki ever responded well to harshness? Perhaps he would not have stayed so recalcitrant in his refusal to speak of what befell him if you had showed some sign of kindness when he was returned to us. Who knows how long he spent in the Void, unable to think of anything but the fact that he no longer felt that he had a family? That his entire life was a lie? Small wonder he emerged mad, if that is all that happened, but I do not think it is. He did not just stumble onto an army of Chitauri and decide to invade Midgard because he wanted a throne. You did not see his face when I had Gungnir handed to him; he did not expect it, he did not want it. He did not desire rule, only respect, to be seen as Thor’s equal, to make you proud. Would it have killed you to have welcomed him back as his father before you pronounced judgement as his king?” Frigga could not help her voice rising again in condemnation.

“Invading another realm was not the way to gain that respect, nor trying to completely obliterate one!” Odin protested, turning back to her in anger, then his defiance dropped away. He did not want to turn this conversation into a fight anymore than Frigga did. “Never mind Jotunheim, not now. As I said, I understand something of what drove him to attack it, and though I do not condone such an extreme action, it was within his rights as ruling king at the time to retaliate for Laufey’s attack on Asgard. But it is what followed after that complicated matters. I could not simply banish him to another realm to learn a lesson as I did with Thor because I do not know what lesson he needs to learn, and I do not know if that realm would be safe, and most of all, I do not know whether Loki himself would be safe, or whether he might attempt to end his own life again.” Odin looked at her bleakly, the memory of Loki’s face as his son let go of Gungnir and let himself fall into the Void one that still haunted his nightmares. “What else could I have done, other than what I did? And what would you have me do now?”

“It was not what you did but how you did it,” Frigga allowed, for Loki had been a threat that needed containing at the time, even she had to acknowledge that. “But as for now -- be his father! If you want to get him to trust you again, you have to show him that you deserve it. And you can start by letting me visit him, in person.”

“Why now?” he asked, stalling a bit but also curious. “Why have you waited this long to ask again?”

Frigga pursed her lips. “To be honest, until today, I have not been sure if he would welcome my actual presence,” she admitted.

“And today?”

“It was a good day; he was quieter, more settled.”

The corner of Odin’s mouth turned up. “Perhaps we should have sent wine long before this.”

“Do you know everything?” she demanded in exasperation.

“I wish I did. I would give much to know what happened to Loki in the year that he was gone. But do you not think I look in on my son every now and then? I know what today is as well as you do.”

“I don’t think it was just the wine. It had been opened when I arrived, yes, but not enough was gone to influence him in any way. I think he is just...coming back to himself.”

Odin thought of the way Loki had sat quietly and listened to his mother today, as he had watched from Hlidskjalf for a while before withdrawing his Sight and giving them their privacy, no longer the ranting, rage-filled man who had come back to them. It had been a slow change, but a steady one, and he thought longingly of the possibility of one day having his son back. Loki was not Hela, he reminded himself, despite their remarkable physical similarity. The Norns must have been laughing at him when they had sent him Loki’s way. A second chance, to raise a raven-haired child right. And he thought he had done so. Loki had not been molded for war, had not grown up without the softness of love. A succession of memories flashed through Odin’s mind. A baby, smiling and quieting as soon as he was picked up. A small body nestled against his. A boy trustingly slipping his hand into Odin’s. A young man walking with his mother’s hand tucked securely through his arm, love and pride in every line of his bearing. A son grown tall and strong, a son any man would be proud of. Had he told that to Loki often enough, or had he simply assumed that he knew, that that was what Odin had been saying whenever he laid an approving hand on Loki’s back or shoulder, whenever he trusted him with some matter of state, some diplomatic mission? Somewhere along the way they had lost that closeness which Loki and Frigga still had, and Odin had never regretted it more than when Loki had learned of a heritage which did not matter in the slightest to him, but had driven Loki to such despair that he had no longer seen a reason to go on living.

“Odin?” Frigga’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

Odin cast back to the last thing she had said, and remembered, Loki coming back to himself. “I pray that it is so.” He paced across her room, thinking. He was going to agree to Frigga’s request, he knew, but he wondered if he could get something more out of it. Loki’s refusal to talk of what had happened to him during the year he was beyond all their sight irritated him in more ways than the simple defiance of it. Nothing about Midgard made sense; was that simply because Loki had not been thinking rationally at the time or was there a huge puzzle piece there that they were missing? His instincts said the latter, and he wished not for the first time that Thor had managed to bring home the weapon Loki had wielded along with his brother, wondered if there might not be a clue there. If the Bifrost had not been shattered, he would have gone and demanded it of the mortals himself, and not taken no for an answer. Or was he simply looking for a reason which would justify Loki’s actions, that he might give him a chance to redeem himself, as he had given Thor? He nearly growled in frustration as he came up once again against his complete lack of knowledge.

“How much do you think he wishes for your company?” he asked. “Enough to finally tell us what happened to him in exchange for it?”

“I don’t know,” Frigga admitted. “But he did say he would consider talking about it when I mentioned it again today.”

Odin brightened at that. "Considering" was not "agreeing to", but it was the first time that Loki had even given them that much. “Then perhaps we should wait until he comes to that decision. If we give him something that he wants before he does so, it might remove the impetus to give us what we want."

“Odin,” Frigga pleaded, allowing all of her yearning to come through in her voice. “I have not been able to hold my son in over two years. Have not been able to offer even the comfort of a single touch.”

Odin hesitated, then gave in. “A week. We will give him a week, and if he does not say anything more about it, then I will go to him with my offer.” It was hardly any time at all, when Loki had held out this long, but he was tired of being at odds with his wife, and hoped this would help mend the rift between them.

“And if he refuses it?”

Odin looked at her face, saw the fear that she would be further denied the chance to visit her son, and felt shame that he was the cause of it. If Loki scorned him as weak for this, then so be it. He would make this one thing right. “Then you may visit him anyway.”

Frigga’s face lit with joy, and the next thing he knew she had her arms around him. He tried to get his arms up to embrace her back, for he had not been favoured with such attention for a long time, but she was already stepping back, her hands lingering on his shoulders for a moment while she beamed at him.

“Thank you,” she said with heartfelt fervour.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked hopefully.

“Ask me again when I have held my son in my arms,” she said, but she was still smiling, and Odin’s heart felt lighter than it had for a long time.

As it turned out, they didn’t even have to wait a week. ---

----------

As if thinking of the old dream conjured it back into existence, Loki was haunted by it again that night. Running through the empty palace, looking for someone, anyone, only to find, at last, Frigga, laid out and lifeless and waking to his heart pounding in panicked dread. And for the first time in his life, he could do nothing to reassure himself of her safety other than wait for her visit. When she arrived, he took a deep breath of relief. Only a nightmare, he told himself. But it was harder to dismiss when he woke from the same dream the next morning, except this time he had heard Thanos’s laughter when he had come upon his mother’s dead body, and impossible the third. He was too agitated to eat breakfast and paced restlessly until Frigga finally showed up.

“Tell the Allfather,” he said, having made up his mind that he had to do something, that if the Norns were sending him a message he could not risk ignoring it. If he could not be free to guard his mother’s life, then he must give up what knowledge he had that would allow her to be best prepared to defend herself if and when Thanos broke into the Nine.“That I will answer any questions he may have in return for you being allowed to visit me in person.”

Joy swept through Frigga. “He will be hearing petitioners now,” she said. “Shall I interrupt him or wait till he breaks for the midday meal?”

“Better wait." He didn't want his mother to leave when she had just arrived, and it would give him time to prepare what he was going to say, how much he needed to reveal. "But do it today."

“I will,” she promised.

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

A couple of hours later, Loki came to his feet as he heard approaching footsteps and stood facing the front of his cell, his hands clasped behind his back. He tensed as he saw Odin, but his heart leapt when he saw his mother following behind him.

“Loki,” Odin greeted. “I understand you wish to strike a deal.”

“I do. I will answer any questions that you have in exchange for mother being allowed to visit me whenever she wishes. Inside my cell,” he stressed. When Odin didn’t respond immediately, he swallowed his pride and added “I swear I will not hurt her, nor attempt to use her in any way to escape this place.”

“I never thought that you would hurt her,” Odin admitted after a moment, and glanced at Frigga, then gestured towards the cell. “Very well. Go ahead.”

Two long strides forward and Frigga was deactivating the energy barrier that formed the front of the cell, one more and she was pulling Loki into her arms. “Loki,” she breathed out fervently. “My son.”

It had happened so fast, Loki hadn’t been prepared for it, and flinched back for a second, from the shock of being touched after so long without it, and because for so long before that, touch had always meant pain instead of comfort. He didn’t know what to do for a moment, but then her scent hit him, the smell of herbs and flowers and fresh air, that whispered ‘home’ and ‘safe’ and ‘loved’, and his arms came up instinctively as he wrapped her up tight in his embrace and buried his face against her neck. “Mother,” he said desperately, and then quieter, for her ears alone, “Amma .”

“I’ve got you,” Frigga whispered, burying her hand for the first time in the new length of his hair. “You’re safe.”

Odin heard them both, and relief and remorse swept through him in equal measures. Their son was still in there, still reachable, but looking at Loki’s face was almost painful. Whatever happened today, he vowed he would not keep them apart again. Belatedly he realised he had not reactivated the energy barrier and stepped forward to do so.

Loki heard the faint hum crackle back into life and glanced up, a faint smirk on his face. "A bit slow there, weren't you? I could have teleported right out of here in a second."

Frigga tightened her grip on him. "If you had tried, you would have had to take me with you."

"What an excellent idea, Mother," Loki said brightly. "Where would you like to go?"

She gave him an admonishing shake. "Don't tempt me, you."

"And yet you didn't," said Odin. "Perhaps I am simply choosing to trust my son to keep his word, that he will not try to use his mother's presence in an attempt to escape. Am I wrong to do so?"

Loki shook his head, and raised his chin a notch. "You are not."

For the moment, the mask was gone from his son’s face, Loki’s eyes wide and vulnerable in a too gaunt face, and Odin was reminded of just how young Loki still was. "Good,” he said approvingly. “In return, I ask you to trust me, Loki. Tell me what happened to you. Let me help you, if I can."

“I will save you time and tell you the only thing that you need to know. Thanos the mad Titan seeks the Infinity Stones, and a way into the Nine. Asgard must prepare her defenses and stop him from finding them all.”

Odin's mind instantly flashed back to the conversation that he’d had with Thor on his return to Asgard, when he had grilled him about everything that he could remember Loki doing or saying on Midgard, seeking some clue to his youngest son’s behaviour.

He had a sceptre, with a blue stone, with the ability to control the minds of others.

He was not like himself at all. He looked unwell, and afraid at times, and the manner in which he attacked was so unlike his usual style that I thought he must be in league with someone else.

I thought I was reaching him, when I asked him to stop and come home. For a moment I could see the brother that I knew in his eyes, but then he said that it was too late to go back, and he shook it off and went back to the attack.

A picture was coming together in Odin’s mind, and it was not one that he liked. Loki, his mind already broken, falling into the hands of a being of incomparable power, one who wished to escape his exile outside of the Nine. Thanos discovering that Loki had the ability to walk the shadow paths between worlds. Had the scepter truly borne a blue stone, or had it been a yellow stone concealed in a blue housing? Were the mortals the only ones it had been used upon? The Tesseract. Mind stone and space stone. One risked to gain a second, a ploy that had failed. If Thanos could break into the Nine, it would not only be the Stones he came after, Odin guessed, it would be Loki, for failing to deliver what he had been sent for. For he had no doubt now that Loki had been sent. A year gone, beyond Heimdall’s view. How much of that time had been spent in the Void, how much being broken until his proud, powerful son had been turned into a tool to be used? Had Midgard been offered as a reward for service, or had Loki wanted it as a sanctuary, a bulwark against the Mad Titan when he felt he no longer had a right to claim Asgard as his home?

Oh, Loki, Odin thought, his heart clenching for his son. What did he do to you? He reached out and deactivated the force field at the front of the cell again, and walked in to join his wife and son, meeting Loki’s startled gaze steadily. He had failed his son once, he was not going to fail him again.

“On the contrary, I think I’m going to need to know a great deal more than that.”

Loki, still standing within the circle of his mother's arms, stared. Odin had set the barrier to re-form behind him, effectively trapping him inside the cell with Loki. He would need to call the guard now to let him out. "Was that wise? Locking yourself in with a dangerous criminal? I only promised not to hurt Mother, you know."

"if I have been so poor of a father that I need fear attack from my own son, then perhaps I deserve it." There had been no threat in Loki's voice, though, merely a pointing out of facts, and Odin grinned mischievously. "You can try, though."

Unexpectedly, Loki felt the corner of his mouth quirk up, feeling oddly reassured instead of offended that his own strength and skills were being dismissed. He wanted his father to still be strong, he realised, wanted to feel that childhood certainty that Odin could fix anything, that he could handle any problem brought to him and make everything all right again. He knew that wasn't the case anymore, but still, if Asgard were to stand any chance at all against Thanos, she would need the strength of all her warriors, led by a strong king. And that king needed to be armed with knowledge as well as weapons, knowledge that Loki was tired of bearing alone. If nothing else, Odin could share that burden.

"I would not wish to upset Mother," he said diplomatically, and heard Frigga huff beside his ear.

"No more would I, yet I fear I have done so for far too long. But I am trying to make amends. To you and to her," Odin stressed. "Talk to me, Loki, please. Let me be the father I should have been when you first returned."

For a change, Loki did not feel the need to deny that Odin was his father, knew he could not do so with any conviction at the moment. If not Odin, then who? Certainly not Laufey, who had left him to die. At least Odin had been there, and was here now, apparently still willing to call Loki his son. Perhaps one imperfect father willing to admit his mistakes was better than none. The anger that he had nurtured for over a year fizzled out, and he swallowed hard. "What more do you wish to know?"

"Everything."

His mother's hand gripping his tightly, grounding him, Loki took a deep breath and began to talk.

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

“Amma.”

Sif woke to a small hand tugging on the sleeve of her nightshirt. A pair of clear blue eyes beneath a head of tousled black curls peered at her from just over the top of the mattress.

“What is it, Ullr?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Sif yawned sleepily. “Do you want to spend the rest of the night with us?”

Ullr nodded. “Yes, please.”

He held up his arms to her, and Sif saw that he had his much-loved stuffed bear with him, a present from his Aunt Jane. She sat up and reached down, lifting Ullr up onto the bed and scooted back. Loki, who was always a light sleeper, woke with an inquisitive noise as she bumped into him.

“Mhm?” He rolled onto his side, automatically reaching out to drape an arm over her and draw her close, and came up against an unexpected shape. He woke a little more. “Sif?”

“It's just Ullr. He had a bad dream.”

“Put him between us, then.” He moved back, making room.

“Go on, Ullr.” Sif held the covers up. “You heard your father.” She smiled as Ullr promptly scrambled over her body and was instantly gathered in close by Loki.

Loki nuzzled Ullr’s hair, breathing in the sweet scent of his son and wrapping an arm securely around him as Sif turned to face them, letting the covers fall back over them, enclosing them in a soft, warm cocoon. Ullr didn’t seem visibly distressed, so either the dream hadn’t been too bad, Loki thought, or the memory of it was already fading. Still, there were words which had to be said.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”

#ficwoodelf #loki #frigga #odin #thor #sifki #a bit at the end #marvel fic #mornings

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lunnaya-dragon · 4 years

Text

Rated: your emotions.

Warnings: strong deviation from the Canon/strange Viggo.

Pairings: Hiccup/Viggo.

Summary: Viggo is infected with a terrible disease, and begins to hunt his most delicious prey.Hiccup, finding out who is hunting him, tries to save him.

And also a small explanation:

word - is a plain text.

word -is a thought .

word -is the author's words.

word - is the language of a monster or monster.

HORROR AU.

Chapter 2.

"The day I was possessed by a demon".

The guards laughed softly. And how can you not laugh when your chief cackles like a sick rooster?

Viggo was laughing merrily as he watched his father lose another game of Maces and Talons.

"Son, only you can disgrace your father like this".-Ragnarok said, smiling softly at him.

"But is it my fault that you can't play?" Viggo said, still laughing.

And the ships were nearing the island "Bescheshuichetyi dragon". And as soon as their bows were firmly planted in the white sand , everyone was told to leave their cabins and go ashore.

"Well, are you ready for your first hunt?" - said Ragnarok proudly, leaning his powerful hands on his son's thin shoulders .When he heard the guard's voice from outside the door.

"You'll be proud of me , I know every weak point in these reptiles.I spent days and nights preparing for this moment, not like some people.Viggo said confidently, looking straight into the brown eyes of his best teacher , his father.He jumped out of bed and began to pack his bag .

A few minutes later, they left the cabin and went to the General meeting , where children from different tribes met. However, as soon as Viggo noticed a group of children of different ages, something made him become quiet and timid again.

In it were the heirs of other tribes and kingdoms. Their age ranged from 15-18 years .They were all dragon hunters.

After examining his new companions a little, he decided to find out more about where he was.A small village on the other side of the river caught his eye.He decided to find someone who could tell him about it.

A tall man was standing near a group of people .Approaching him, he greeted him and asked him about the village.The latter answered him thus .

"Hello, my name is Armstrong the good-Natured.As for those buildings, this is a small village, as well as a medical center.It was specially built here, because there are a lot of things in this place, graduates get seriously injured. This is where we treat them....although sometimes there were cases when children did not pass the exam, for various reasons, and came here to send a letter to their homeland to be taken away.To be honest, boy, I'm against such survival .You're too young to hunt such beasts, not like those big foreheads over there! So let's agree on this, I really feel sorry for you, you can come to me if you want ,my house is that building with a carved wooden horse head. If you ask me why you have such a privilege, I will answer right now , because you are the only 7-year-old child , around you there are already healthy deer that are about to turn twenty.That's why.Now go to hunters." With that, the mustachioed man in armor walked away.

When Viggo got the answer to his question ,he said good-bye and went back .

Next to the group that had already gathered, a man in a white coat climbed onto a wooden pedestal and tapped on a silver disk.This attracted the attention of everyone standing around.

"Dear Sirs, ladies and their children, today we have gathered for a reason, today is the very day when our children must prove themselves for the future of your tribes and kingdoms. They will have to: survive for 3 months, on their own, develop a sense of courage, ruthlessness, coolness and fearlessness. Be able to calculate their every step , because it depends on how they will lead their people. But their most important goal is to defeat the Bescheshuychetogo dragon, one of the most terrible creatures on this island.I wish you good luck. " - with these words, the elder descended from the pedestal and walked away.

Viggo was alarmed by this statement, because he had never met or remembered this class of dragons before .As a result, all confidence in victory collapsed . And he even wondered how Riker had handled it all and brought home a bunch of little dead dragons.

He did not have time to think about all this , because his father's hand clearly made it clear that it was time to say goodbye , and perhaps forever , because no one is immune from their own death.

He let him go , his eyes sad and full of fear .

An hour later, he was standing alone on the beach. Unnoticed, the others had already gone hunting.

"pull yourself together ,everything will work out for you." With this thought in mind, Viggo pulled out a book and a coal from his bag, and quickly began to write a plan of action. After all, you need to have time to do everything before sunset, otherwise you won't be able to say Hello to him later.The plan was this :

1) Find suitable shelter, both from the weather and from predators.

2) Find a source of fresh water , and it is better to find shelter there.

3) Take care of the availability of food.

4) to Prepare a sleeping place.

5) Prepare items for tomorrow's hunt.

Having written the plan, he began to carry out the first point. And putting the items back in the bag, quickly ran into the woods.

It's been a few hours or more, but he still finds what he thinks is the perfect place to hide.

Coming out of the thorny bushes, he sees a waterfall and a small river, a source of fresh water .And behind the waterfall is a hidden cave.Viggo cautiously walks up to the entrance ,narrow enough that it does not fit Gronckle, and looks around.There is nothing inside except one spacious room . And most importantly, it is not inhabited by anyone! Today, luck is on his side. He quickly found a corner to sleep in and began sorting through his bag of things .Taking a couple of pitchers with him, he left the cave, ran to the river and filled them to the top with clean water and returned to put on the floor.

"All that's left is to find some food.Sticks, stones, and leaves for a fire ,and reeds for a primitive bed."

Viggo crawled out of the cave again and searched for branches, leaves, and rocks.After about half an hour, all the necessary items lay in the middle of the cave stacked in the form of a fire.It was also good that the island is located in the South and at night it was not cold, and during the day it was warm enough.

The second race in the forest was to the pond with water lilies and frogs ,which was located near the shelter. This place could be found by following the direction of the river. So it was almost impossible to get lost. Water lilies are not reeds , but they will also pass for a bed .When he returned, he left them to dry in the sun.

The third time he decided to go fishing, in the same pond. The catch was small , but it was enough to satisfy a seven-year-old boy.

It was already evening , and the water lilies were dry .Putting the fish on them, he took their vruki and dragged them into the cave. The leaves of the water lilies were not put in the most comfortable, but still the bed. A leather bag served as a pillow. The fish was still in the bowl . When he got to the fire, he quickly lit it, after all, he was training.

While the fire was burning, he began to prepare the fish for cooking . After a few minutes, the fish is already fried on the fire .Dinner will be ready soon .In the meantime, making a curtain out of a small, thick, leather towel, he closed the passage to the cave .

After dinner, he went to bed .

Somewhere around 01: 00 or 02: 00.

He often woke up to something like crying, which gets worse every time.Viggo was very scared, but he gathered his will and decided to check who was making this cry.With the help of the still-burning fire, he made himself a torch. He left the cave and went to the source of the sound.

The crying increases, and turns into someone's painful and heart-rending moans.With each step, the forest around them only grew darker.Trees took on the appearance of strange monsters .The sky was turning a deep purple, and the stars were not visible because of the dark red clouds. The air around them smelled of dead things, and there was a sound of someone slurping.Suddenly Viggo's whole body is paralyzed, and he sees a body behind the bushes.Of the fear he hides behind the rubble and looking at a terrible picture.

Before him was a bald, disfigured, and huge dragon.From the smiling mouth of which the flesh descended in bloody streams. He recognized the prey of this monster , it was a teenager whom he met on the beach in the morning.But it's not the gnawed teenager that's more terrifying, it's the dragon .It seemed to him that it was the birth of nibelheim .It resembled a Deadly Nadder, but without scales or a disfigured appearance.Its head was covered with countless curved horns.The monster had no eyes.The wings looked like broken arms with very long fingers. On its tail instead of spikes sticking out sharp as a needle bones .The paws were much more massive, with long, razor-sharp claws .His skin color was beige like a human's, but there were veins and arteries in places .It began to smile even harder, spreading its toothy and blood-stained smile all the way to its ears.And she laughed merrily as the man said something in his own language, but Viggo didn't understand a single word .

"-×%^*?,;&:))08¥¥" .

Thank Thor, the monster was sated and soared into the sky, flying away.

Viggo, in a fit of shock and hysteria, ran back to the cave, his heels flashing .He couldn't even squeak, thinking that this creature would want to eat him ,too . He didn't want to pass this test. He was smart, and remembered that his main prey is nibelheim dragon , as they are called.

This monster was described in legends as a carrier of the worst disease , "Lekantinism".If a person managed to survive (although this word is figurative) after his attack, then he will live in agony, every night reincarnating in Lekantra.But no one knows what really happened to the man and the dragon.

This is unfortunately what our hero will have to learn.

When he reached the cave ,he threw the torch into the water and hid inside . He became hysterical. Falling on the stone floor, he began to cry loudly and call for help. But alas, no one will come to him .After a few minutes, he calmed down a little and Remembered Armstrong's words . He quickly pulled his bag towards him to get a book and a coal.

Viggo began writing a letter to his father asking him to take it back.And in addition, he could barely describe what happened to him now. After that, he put aside all the items and decided to wait for the beautiful sun.

As soon as it was morning, the birds began to sing their morning songs. Our hero was already running to Armstrong's house. He couldn't lie down to rest.

When he reached the house, he quickly knocked on the door,and then recoiled from it ,turning red as a tomato .Because he didn't expect Armstrong to come out of it just waking up in his underwear. After a few moments, he realized that he was standing in front of the child not in the best clothes and posture.The man allowed the child to enter the house , and he began to dress, ashamed.

After the morning nonsense.They sat down at the table to eat Breakfast , but only Armstrong, Viggo after yesterday ,him appetite Packed up and left him.

The man noticed the red streaks on the boy's face and decided to ask him what was wrong and why he was crying.

"Viggo, first of all, I'm sorry about this morning's concert.I am ashamed of this , I did not expect that someone would come to visit me in the morning."

" nothing ."it was very quiet.

"And one more thing, why were you crying?"

With this question, Viggo's face turned pale, and other than the strange combinations of sounds, he could not utter anything else.

"Don't be afraid, I'll have it all ,honestly."

"P ... just me ..I strongly this b..Bo..I'm afraid."

"What are you afraid of?"

" Dragon's "

"Hmm, I told you that you can't hunt them, fool, stop being afraid they are just animals , and they follow their instincts."

"-×%^*?,;&:))08¥ ¥ " Viggo said.

"Uh , sorry about what?"

"So the dragon said."

"Uh , Viggo ,dragons can't talk."

"No! HE WAS TALKING, AND I HEARD IT !"

"Hey, what are you doing, calm down , everything's fine "

"THERE'S NOTHING GOOD,I SAW A BALD AND DISFIGURED DRAGON WITH A SMILE ON HIS FACE DEVOUR A PERSON, A PERSON, AND THEN SAID THIS PHRASE AND FLEW AWAY!!!"

"Stop, wait, calm down first, just breathe in and out .Now, you said you saw a bald dragon eating a human?"

"Yes, I was very scared of him and hid in a cave.I wanted to give you the letter , to be honest, so that you could send it to my father.I don't want to stay here anymore.I'm afraid it might come back and want to eat me."

With that, Viggo began to cry again, and then opened his bag, took out the letter, and put it on the table.The man, clearly discouraged by such statements of the boy, took the letter and got up from the table.

"Viggo I'll be back soon, but in the meantime, you wait , and better lie down and sleep on my bed , you're tired.I'll send an email and come back."

Armstrong left the house and went to the post office.Viggo obeyed, found his room and bed, and lay down to take a NAP. Soon he fell asleep.

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

"!!!@@&*((¥@))₽₽₽#&&,'/_€÷¥"

Said the Monstrous Nightmare, following in Viggo's Wake. And in a few moments Viggo was in the clutches of his monster.

" (÷):^^;))-#$"

" What,......what do you want from me?!"

":)))^*^)"

And with that, Viggo is completely in its toothy mouth.He tries hard to resist, but his hands slide over his tongue .As a result, the creature tries to swallow it whole.Turning his feet to the throat, he rests them against the monster's tonsils, and his hands cling to the fangs, screaming and begging for help. Eventually, his feet slip off his tonsils, and Viggo ends up in his throat .After a few moments, he opens his eyes to see around him a black, glowing and transparent liquid-gastric juice .

"Well, that's it, my end has come, and my father will never know or find me "

" :))))!!"

But when the pain starts, something grabs him and shakes him like a rag.

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

Viggo wakes up wide-eyed, choking on her own tears.Armstrong stared at him in horror, his blue eyes showing only fear.

"Uncle Armstrong, don't worry, I often have nightmares ."

"Nightmares! Yes, you literally ran around my ceiling and growled incomprehensible phrases, rushed at me, tried to strangle and bite me.I will continue to list your antics, so-called nightmares!"

"I ... I was sleeping, and the dragon was trying to strangle me and eat me."

"Well, I don't know about the dragon, but before you go to bed, warn me, at least I'll tie you to the bed or something.""

"Please forgive me, I really didn't see anything"

"Okay, forget it.By the way, your father will be here in a few days , but in the meantime, will you stay with me well?"

"Well "

With these words, they decided to remove the mayhem of the unfortunate room.After cleaning, we went down to lunch.

In the meantime, they're having lunch. Perform different work within 2 days. Viggo no longer had such nightmares.But here comes the very moment when our hero is possessed by night horror.Day 10: 00.

Viggo picks berries for a cake in the woods .When suddenly his attention is attracted,crows gathered in a black cloud and flew away.Then he sees one tree after another break and fall on its side.And what breaks them rushes straight in his direction .Viggo is terrified and, throwing the basket, he begins to run towards the settlement.But before he reaches half the way, right before his eyes POPs up his dragon from nightmares, a giant bald and terrible Monstrous Nightmare. Its head resembled a deer's skin-covered skull, with huge curved horns .Empty and humanized eyes . .Bones sticking out of his back.Throbbing veins completed the picture.It's like a nightmare . It does not hesitate for a moment to attack Viggo.In shock, he took the hit .The claws cut through the flesh of his chest and neck, leaving huge cuts.Blood spurted from their necks.Viggo screamed at the top of his lungs .And the monster did not calm down , it began to tear his stomach and chest with its teeth, releasing black drool . But there was a whoosh of an arrow ,and Viggo fell from the monster's mouth .And it itself died, falling to the ground .The arrow went through him the skull.All Viggo could see before he lost consciousness was the terrified faces of the young hunters and Armstrong.

Our hero is not dead now he is in the infirmary. In the meantime, others are looking at the monster they shot recently. The worst thing is that with exactly the same cuts, but from other bezcheshuichetyh dragons, arrived from different parts of at least 4 people. And they were all in their bunks.

In the evening, the parents of the injured and surviving children arrived on the island.

Ragnarok raced to the room where Viggo lay ,Riker barely able to keep up with him.As soon as they were in the right room, Ragnarok ran to his son and took his hand.

"Son, if you can hear me, please answer me...."

But there was no answer.Soon Viggo's hand became cold and limp ,a sign of death.Riker and his father burst into tears .Too big a loss for them.Ragnarok wanted to take his son to Valhala that night.

Night.Everyone gathered near the common grave .The dead 5 children were put in one boat .And let the waves. But as soon as the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, something happened that threw everyone into horror.There were groans from the ship, then screams, and then growls .After a few moments, the ship began to sink into the water .And sank.A black ball with a red glowing dots began to approach the shore.Some began to hide behind the cobblestones, while others drew their bows and prepared arrows. Parents unsheathed their swords. And the tangle was getting closer and closer. Suddenly one of the creatures from the tangle climbed up on the reef.This creature was no longer a child, this huge winged creature with a piercing cry that leaped into the air and landed near its mother.The mother was horrified to see her child like this .But instead of showing my mom that everything is fine, I'm here, I'm alive, I just changed a little. He pounced on her ,then tore her throat out ,grabbed her, and like a featherless bird flew away with her dying mother.

On the second and third, they did not stand on ceremony and immediately got arrows in their temples.Kill them .The fourth, like the first, flew away.The fifth was Viggo.He turned into a disfigured dog.

But unlike the first one, he did not attack ,but ran away into the woods.

In the morning, everyone sailed home with terrible grief, and village the people down with them.

#5real #httyd #hiccup #viggo grimborn #vigcup #water colour art #ryker #tootles #horror au #fanfic

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the-acolytes-collection · 4 years

Text

Beck the Dragonman x Reader

SFW/3464 Words/Monster x Human

You rolled down the window as your car wound up the mountain roads. The air got more crisp and fresh the higher you climbed. Paired with the towering Evergreen trees enveloped by mist, you felt like you had entered another world, forgotten by time.

You shook your head to keep it from wandering too far, then turned your attention back to the twisty road ahead of you. You knew it was a long, long, way down if you happened to stray from the path.

Your grandmother had suggested this extended vacation. When you were younger, you and your mother would take trips up to her cottage that rested on the side of the mountain. By day, you would play in the forest surrounding the cottage, and at night you would snuggle into your mother’s side as your grandmother weaved tales. Stories of old women that used even older magic to heal strangers, faeries that floated on the wind, and monsters that were never truly monstrous.

She had been upset when she was moved to a nursing home at the base of the mountains, but had eventually conceded that old age had caught up with her. She insisted that the cottage be kept, though, citing that it could be used in the future.

It turns out she was right, as you had become bored to tears in the cramped city of which you lived. On a phone call with you one day, your grandmother suggested you stay at her old cottage. She reminisced that you had loved spending days and nights up there. You remembered the house fondly and made the arrangements to stay for a month. Thank the stars for a stack of unused vacation time.

So this is how you found yourself pulling into the dirt driveway that you recognized so well. The cottage came into view through the trees and excitement bubbled up within you. Finally pulling to a stop, you shut off the car and gabbed your bags from the back.

It was just like you remembered it, the A-Frame made of auburn wood with its many windows. You raced up the ramp and unlocked the double doors, throwing them open. Inside was dark, but you flipped on a light switch. It illuminated the stone fireplace and soft leather couches off to your left, and then another flip showed the ornate oak dining table to your right.

Stepping in, you breathed in the smell of wood and a large amount of dust. You knew that the cottage would need a bit of cleaning, which is why you had started to drive early. By the time you had gotten supplies you would need for about a week and got up the mountain it was around 11 in the morning.

After putting your groceries and kitchen supplies away, you got to work cleaning every imaginable surface, throwing open the windows and blasting music to keep you motivated.

Finally, around two o’clock in the afternoon, you collapsed on the couch. The cottage was clean, but your muscles protested any more movement. You decided to reward yourself with a nap on the couch.

You woke up with slowly, then all at once as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You sat up, looking at all the windows until you stared through the back deck door. You could have sworn that you saw something drop over the side and the sounds of something scraping against the wood.

You shook your head and rubbed at your eyes, looking again. Seeing and hearing nothing, you decided that it was just your sleep-addled brain making things up. Moving on from that experience, you made up some dinner and sat down to call your grandmother.

She and you reminisced about the old days at the cottage, laughing at old jokes and sighing at memories. Before you hung up, your Grandmother told you something you didn’t know.

“I … have an old friend, up in the mountains.” She began. “I don’t think he lives too far from you now, and he spends a lot of time hiking. He might notice the cabin being used and come by to make sure everything’s okay.”

You were surprised. “Oh. I didn’t think there was anybody else up here. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“Oh thank you, dear. And don’t be too intimidated. He’s young, a little older than you, but he is quite … intimidating. Don’t let his size or anything else about him frighten you, he really likes having someone to talk to.”

You agreed to not be scared, though you were a little confused, and wrapped up the call.

After finishing your dinner and closing up all the windows, you climbed the stairs up into the loft and fell asleep. You dreamed of misty forests and old, forgotten things.

The next couple of days were pretty much the same routine. You would catch up on shows, read a pile of books you had brought with you, and give yourself some luxury treatment. It was on the third night that something caught your attention. Or rather, it caught you.

You had gone out for a late evening walk, making it to a small outlook that was a stone’s throw from the cabin just as the full moon rose from behind the mountains. It was absolutely stunning, and it almost seemed like the clouds parted just for it to make its entrance. You took a few pictures before heading back.

On your way back you heard a large snap! to your left, startling you. Curiosity tugged at you until you went to investigate. You found a sizable branch, about as wide around as your arm, snapped and crushed in the middle. You realized, once pulling back and examining the scene, that it lay in a giant clawed paw print. It was wider than your hand stretched to its maximum, and you didn’t know what kind of thing had left something so massive.

You decided you did not want to know what made that print and turned about-face to walk back to the cabin. Or at least you were about to, until you saw your path was blocked by a large man.

He was shirtless, with broad shoulders, muscular arms and a solid chest. He had long black hair that cascaded down over his shoulder, and silvery eyes that complimented the dark horns that sprouted from his temples. It was also then you realized that he had what could only be described as a lizard body, divided between human and beast like a centaur. He had four tree-trunk size legs and dark scales everywhere.

It seems like fate had had different plans. You had met the beast that made the footprint. You stepped back, your mind screaming at you to run. But, you misjudged your foot placement and tripped over the branch, falling against the forest floor and smacking your head on a rock. You went out like a light.

You awoke some nebulous time later, your head pounding. Groaning, you sat up, clutching at the sore spot. You weren’t met with hair and a bump, but with soft bandages. Confused, you realized that you now had bandages wrapped carefully around your head.

Looking around, you found that you were in a small, dark cave, with a small candle as your only light source. Under you were a small mountain of furs and a few blankets. You could hear the rush of water in the distance.

It all came hurtling back to you. The paw print under the tree branch, and the thing, half-man half-lizard that had startled you so much that you tripped and passed out.

You tried to stand up but found your legs were too shaky. With growing horror, you heard the sound of something scraping against stone, drawing closer and closer.

The thing was back.

You pushed back against the cave wall, hoping that it would ignore you. But as it seemed that Fate was working against your wishes, the hulking beast came into the makeshift doorway of the room. You stared into his silver eyes in fear, but you were only met with contemplation, and maybe a bit of amusement.

“I will not hurt you.” He rumbled in a whisper, like a far-away thunderstorm. His voice was deep and masculine, and would have made you melt were you not so frozen with fright.

You said not a word in return, so he spoke again. “I will help you. May I come in?” He outstretched his arms and displayed his massive, but empty, hands. You hesitated but slowly nodded.

He made its way into the room as carefully and softly as he could and sat down beside your huddled form. After a moment, he tried to tuck his legs under himself and his large tail around those. You recognized he was trying to make himself smaller for your sake. It was endearing, in a way.

“May I see your head?” He asked, motioning. You leaned forward, and his claws swiftly cut through the used bandages. Checking for any blood, he gingerly felt the back of your head. Despite his scary-looking claws and calloused fingers, his touch was light and gentle. Once he was done, he pulled back and stared at you.

“Where are we? Who are you? What are you?”

He smiled softly, looking down at you kindly. “You are in my home, I brought you here after you fell. My name is Beck, and my kind have been called many things. But I think ‘dragon’ is the simplest term.”

You were silent for a moment, just enough for your stomach to rumble.

Beck chuckled, standing up and extending a clawed hand. “You’re hungry. I have some food downstairs if you’d like.”

You nodded and took Beck’s hand. You found it much easier to stand and walk braced against his muscular side. You blushed, feeling much too hot as you both made it out of the room.

The beyond the tiny room, which you assumed was where Beck slept, was a larger cave. The wall to your left sloped out and funnelled into a small tunnel, where the rushing water sound was coming from. To your right was a small, low table with cushions on the floor on one side and a chair on the other. A massive bookshelf filled to bursting sat behind the cushions.

Beck helped you sit down at the table before padding over to a grill set up above a fire, like one you would see for camping. There was a kettle just beginning to whistle, which he took and poured two cups of what was probably tea.

He brought both stone cups over to the table, setting one on each side, giving you a shy smile.

“This tea is good for headaches, which I’m sure you have.”

“Thank you,” You responded gratefully. After taking a sip of the warm amber liquid, you hmmed in delight. “It tastes lovely.” You smile back at him.

He perks up, his smiling widening. His ears, long with points that faded to a dark blue-teal flicked up, and his thick tail swayed back and forth slowly.

“I was about to cook some deer meat. Would you like some?”

You nodded, and Beck went back to the fire. Digging into a leather bag, he pulled out strips of meat and laid it out onto the grill, absolutely covering it. You smiled as you watched him work, going over to a small shelving unit with spices and jars. He hummed as he debated over two different bottles.

You found yourself admitting that he was attractive, which you couldn’t deny. His skin was a warm beige, with all of it on display thanks to him still being shirtless. Intricate tattoos ran up his strong arms and curled around his hips, where human skin turned into scales.

The scales, like the tips of his ears, were a dark blue-teal. You could see that these harder, darker scales also ran up his spine into his dark and flowing hair. His stomach scales were a pale yellow, and they were wider and softer looking. His horns, dark and ridged, curved gracefully from his temples and above his ears. His tail sat heavily behind him, but swayed above the cave floor. On and leading up to its end was black fur, much like his hair.

He was very attractive, you realized as you blushed more. You even found yourself liking the more-than-human features. You took another sip of tea and tried to calm down.

After a few minutes, Beck took the strips of meat off the grill and put them on a long plate, then brought it over to the table. He situated himself on the cushions before smiling at you again.

“Dig in! I hope you enjoy it.”

You did as you were told, and with Beck’s help you cleared the plate. Sitting back in the chair, you slid your hand over your stomach.

“That was amazing, Beck. You’re a world-class chef.”

He leaned back a little, tail curling lazily around him. “Thank you. It’s been a while since I cooked for someone.”

You nodded for a moment, and then realization hit you in the face. “You’re the person my grandmother told me about!”

Beck nodded and laughed. “Your grandmother helped me and my family when I was young. I was never allowed to come out during your visits though.”

“I would have loved to have met you back then.” You commented softly, not even recognizing that you had said it until it was too late.

Beck blushed, his tail curling and uncurling. “Your grandmother showed me pictures of you when she would get them. I told her ... well, I told her you were pretty.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. “That’s sweet of you to say. Too bad you have to see me now, though. I’ve … changed.”

Beck’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, of course you have.” He protested, standing up and rounding the table. “You’ve grown up and into yourself. You’re an adult now, so you must have changed from when we were children. And I’d have to say you’re much prettier now.”

You gaped up at him, realizing just how much taller and all-around larger he was compared to you. “I su-suppose you’re right.” You tripped over your words.

Beck smiled down at you, before offering you a hand again. “It’s still nighttime, and it’s probably not the best idea to go back to your cabin now. Care to stay for the rest of the night?”

You nodded, taking his hand.

He led you back to the room you woke up in, the heap of furs and blankets as you left them. He went to lay down, but stopped himself and looked at you shyly.

“Do you … or well, are you comfortable with me sleeping here? I can sleep elsewhere if you’d rather.”

You shook your head immediately. “Of course not, this is your bed! I should be the one sleeping somewhere else.”

Beck shook his head back at you as he slid into the pile. “No, you sleep here with me. I want to keep you safe.” His eyes widened a little as the words poured out of his mouth.

Your face felt hot as you stared at him, not knowing what to say.

He facepalmed, his hands sliding down his face and pulling at his features. “Oh, my stars. I am so sorry. I don’t know where that came from! I’ll leave.” He began to stand up.

“No!” You objected, stopping him in his tracks. “Please, stay. I … I don’t mind.” Your confidence left you as you finished the sentence. “It’s really kind of you, actually.”

Beck’s blush now matched your own as he regarded you. Then, he silently motioned you to stay put.

You watched him as he shifted the soft pile around until he huffed in triumph. He took your hand gently and led you to lay down, closest to the wall. Once you laid down, he settled in on your left, lying on his side which left his soft yellow scales exposed.

You two watched each other for a moment that stretched on into eternity. It was broken by a yawn escaping you, which Beck matched.

“Go to sleep.” He smiled, pulling a fur over you. “I will be here in the morning.”

You nodded dreamily and wished him goodnight as sleep tugged your eyelids closed.

You woke up very warm. Like, inside a furnace type of warm. Pushing back the fur and the sleepiness from your mind, you realized exactly why you were so warm.

Sometime during the night, Beck had curled himself around you. His human arms and the forelegs on his lower body cradled you as his tail came up behind you. You had, apparently, reciprocated the closeness by throwing a leg over his hip and pressing your arms against his chest.

You blushed, but couldn’t find it in you to be bothered by it. In fact, you decided to throw caution and sense to the wind as you cuddled closer to him.

You stayed in a blissful state between waking and dreaming for an unknown amount of time before Beck shifted and mumbled, waking up as well. His arms tensed when he realized how you were both positioned and began to pull back. You tensed your leg and looked up at him in response.

You stared into his silver eyes, hoping that you could convey what you wanted. Beck seemed to understand, sliding even closer than before and tucking you closer to his body.

You both stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. But, Beck was the first to get up, claiming that he really should be getting you back to the cottage. You did manage to convince him to share some more tea with you before he walked you back.

Exiting out of the small tunnel, Beck led you out from behind a waterfall and off on a well-concealed path. After a few minutes of you stumbling over rocks and almost pitching yourself ass-over-teakettle, Beck lifted you by the waist and deposited you on his scaley back.

“It’ll be easier for both of us, this way.” He explained as he surged forward.

You found purchase by wrapping your arms around his stomach, and you eventually rested your cheek against his torso.

It wasn’t long until you arrived back at the cottage. Once he got to the back deck, he twisted around and picked you up again. This time, he sat you on the railing and reared up onto his very back legs, his forelegs grabbing onto the deck and his hands on your hips. His face was very close to yours.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” he rumbled, his voice quiet. His ears pinned back and he looked to the side in shame. “I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to see you, for real this time.”

You shook your head and brought you hand to his cheek, making him look at you. “If you hadn’t had shown yourself I would have never met you. And that would be a tragedy.”

Beck smiled lovingly and brought himself closer to you.

“It would have been.” He mused, as his eyes flicked to your lips.

You decided to take the initiative and close the gap yourself. You pushed your lips to his gently and quickly, pulling away and smiling shyly. Beck matched it.

“May I have another?” He asked playfully, and you pulled him back in again.

“One more?” He grinned. You kissed him again.

“One more, again?”

You kissed him another time, giggling. After pulling back, you smiled and sighed. You were both startled out of your reverie by your phone chiming incessantly. It was your mother, trying to check in on you. The lack of service in Beck’s cave had made it so you didn’t receive the messages until now.

“I should probably call her.” You said, looking at Beck.

“And I said I would help a friend set up his garden today,” Beck responded.

You smiled but then sighed sadly. “This … isn’t goodbye, is it?”

“Of course not!” Beck shook his head. “When is a good time to visit next?”

You hummed and then replied. “Tomorrow morning? I’ll make breakfast.”

“Deal.” Beck acknowledged, before kissing you again. And again.

And again.

You laughed, pushing at his chest. “Okay, okay. Go help your friend. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Until then, my darling.” He spoke softly, kissing you once more before getting back down onto the ground and leaving.

You watched him go before going inside to call your mother, smiling all the while. You couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

#exophilia #monster x reader #dragon boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster x human #The Acolyte's Work

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