Chances and Luck Tavros X Reader

Chance and luck tavros x reader chpt 7

>>Your POV]

You awaken to darkness; a warm, heavy weight draped across your waist. You turn your head, squinting through the shadows, trying to see the form behind you. When you find such a task impossible you give up, instead turning around completely and moving your hand above you until you feel the soft strip of hair on Tavros’s skull. A rumbling purr arises from his throat at your touch, and you smile. However, a distant, more ominous rumble emanates from outside. You pull your arm back, lightly resting it on his chest as you look around. Strange, you could have sworn you left some lights on. 

A flash from the window illuminates the room for a moment, long enough for you to ascertain that the switches are indeed in the on position. The storm must have caused a power outage. Just great. You shiver with anxiety, as your fuse box is located outside the hive. You’ll have to brave the lightning if you want to turn the lights back on. 

With a sigh you square your shoulders and roll off the couch, taking a last glance at the troll you are leaving asleep behind you. Carefully feeling your way through the room you make it to the other side of the house, and with a deep breath you crack the door to the yard—using a bit of effort to open it against the wind. You stay there for a second, trying to steel yourself to your task, and when you do finally get the courage to go out—when there has been no sign of electrical activity for about two minutes—the gusts of wind rip the door from your hand and pin it open on the wall. Shivering from the cold and rain you rush to the box, flinging it open. A sigh of relief leaves your trembling lips as you see the fix will be easy, and you can get back inside quickly. 

Yet as you reach to complete the action a blinding flash lights up the night, burning your retinas. Your cry of pain and fear is drowned out by the deafening crash of thunder as you fall to your knees, holding your hands protectively over your head. The smell of burnt wood and earth fills your nostrils, a pained yelp batters your abused hearing, and you open your eyes in terror. The scene before you seems surreal, as your eyes are having trouble adjusting and your ears are still ringing, both adding a sense of disconnection from the trauma. With confusion you shield your eyes from the smoldering branch lying nearby, spotting a small, still white figure trapped underneath who had thrown her body against the branch to change its fatal course. 

“No!” You leap to your feet, skidding on the slick mud under your toes. Desperately you grab at the rough bark, trying to pull it off of your lusus’s body. Your hand slips on the wet wood, only rocking the branch a little. Sparks shoot off the end of the burning stump. Foxmom whimpers, and frustrated tears burn your eyes. You have no breath to reassure her, using all of your flagging energy to move the trap. 

You spy a pair of strong arms snaking in beside you, and the heavy wood is pulled abruptly upward. You snatch Foxmom into your arms and instinctively pull her away, dragging her into the forest and far away from your hive—which has caught fire from the now blazing branch. Tavros throws his vest over you before heading in search of a water-spouting device. You don’t even notice. Instead you lightly run your hands over her fur, whispering to her, trying to keep her awake. Her breathing is fast and shallow, likely from shock or fractured ribs. With a sigh of relief you realize nothing is damaged here, just a few painful bruises and lacerations, and you move on to her legs. You wince when you find her right foreleg is sitting at an awkward angle. Moving into position you take in a deep breath, grasping the foreleg and giving it a sharp tug. Bile climbs up your throat as you feel the bones realign, Foxmom crying out in sudden consciousness. 

“Shh, I know, love. I know.” You place a stiff hand on both her shoulder and her neck to hold her still, ignoring the rain still falling on you from above. “We’ll get you fixed. I promise.” When she finally stills you go in search of a straight stick, minutes passing by before you see one, and you quickly grab it up and position it against her leg for a splint. Tavros kneels next to you, the fire mostly out in your hive. The smoke seeping through the collapsed area of your roof still worries him, however, and he keeps a close watch on it. You convey your need for a wrap to hold her leg in place and he pulls his vest from your shoulders. Silently, as you hold the limb straight, he wraps the clothing around the wound—ripping holes in it with his teeth to anchor the buttons through and keep it on. You gather your lusus to you, preparing to move her to the warmth of the hive, but Tavros stops you with a hand on your shoulder.