#I do have a Demise in the works so I could do a part 3... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

intoxicated-chan · 3 months

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𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ Ever since Daryl and Merle joined you and the rest of the survivors, Shane believed that the brothers were no good and warned you to stay away. But you never had good hearing.

(A/n) ➳ This is gonna have multiple parts, I’m not a fan having multiple dividers used as time-skips. Take care of yourselves!!

Word Count ➳ 2.1k (There ain’t a lot of smut but I’ll make it up to you guys in the next part!)

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, mentions of death/killing, swearing, mentions of masturbation/masturbation (M), oral (F), cunilingus, fingering, pet names (baby), overstimulation…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (Coming soon!!)

You often found your mind wandering ever since the outbreak, you struggled to believe what was happening was real. You tried to think positively and hoped that in the end, you would wake up from the nightmare. But there was no nightmare since there was no dream. The outbreak indeed happened and the world is in fucking shambles.

Even during the panic, you found it unbelievable, you refused to believe. It took your brother bruising your arm to drag you into the truck. And when Lori and Carl were put into the truck, Shane told you his belief of his friend’s demise. Another thing that you refused to believe and luckily, you didn’t change your view.

Shane stretched his arms as he stepped out of the tent, a groan leaving his lips. But he wasn’t the only one awake so early, you were as well.

You were folding the group’s clothes, but you were also looking at the tags of the men’s shirts the group had taken. You were ripping the sleeves off of those you deemed the right ones.

“What are you doin’?” Shane asked you, lifting an eyebrow as you ripped another sleeve. He had a good guess of who those were for.

“Daryl’s shirts are coated in sweat an’ dirt. There are holes in ‘em.” You replied, a harmless smile on your face. Shane knew that you were trying to do something good for him. “He needs new ones.”

Shane kneeled, taking your wrist to stop you. “Don’t you think he can do that himself?”

“But he’s out huntin’.” You pulled your wrist back.

“If he can make time for huntin’, he can make his shirts himself.” Shane snatched the rest of the shirts and pushed them to the side. “What are you doin’ up anyways?”

Your eyes looked away from his, fidgeting with the tag of Daryl’s shirt. Your dreams were plagued by nightmares, you wouldn’t go into detail, and you were happy that you forgot most of it.

Shane could see it in your eyes, he rubbed your back. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get our home back.”

“Would we?” You mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“What was that?” Shane demanded to know. He grabbed your shoulders. “Say it again.”

“It’s gone, Shane. We have no home, there’s nothin’ to go back to.”

“Don’t you ever think like that.” Shane snapped. His voice was low yet gruff, showing how serious and angry he was. “We’re goin’ to get home. Understand?”

You looked away once more, nodding. Your ears caught the sound of Daryl panting, arguing with his brother to wake up and help him.

Shane moved his hands from your shoulder to brush back your hair. “Go back to your tent, get some rest.” Patting your back and taking the sleeveless shirts, his voice returning to normal. “And keep away from them. I shouldn’t have to remind you, again.”

You heard Shane speaking with Daryl, handing or shoving the shirts to his arms in trade for some of the game he caught. You also heard Shane taking credit for the work done for Daryl.

“I did ‘em. You smell like shit.” Shane was starting to piss you off. First telling you to keep away from people you were going to have to work with and then taking credit for work you did…

It was most likely midnight. You and Shane were the only ones sitting by the dying campfire. Georgia may be hot during the day but could be cold during the night.

Shane glanced around, he was cautious, making sure it was just the two of you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “Stay away from them. I shouldn’t be repeatin’ myself and I don’t like to.”

You knew Shane could be an asshole at times but deep down, he meant well. But it was harder to believe him each time when he wouldn’t give you a reason.

“All I am askin’ is an explanation.” You begged Shane. “Give me a reason.”

“Do I really need to explain myself?” Shane loudly sighed when you nodded immediately. “They are suspicious. I know we need every hand we can get but when it comes to them, to Merle. It’s obvious that they are plannin’ somethin’, somethin’ bad.”

“What does that have to do with Daryl? Or me?”

Shane was getting annoyed by your constant questions. He ran his fingers through his hair, nearly pulling them out. “Let me ask you this. Do you think Daryl will go out of his way to save you?”

“What if-”

“No ifs ands or buts. Answer it.” Shane said sternly, he didn’t need your response since your silence was your answer. “Daryl is only lookin’ out for his brother, he ain’t gonna be saving your dumbass unless you got somethin’ for him or Merle.”

“Don’t say that about him. Daryl is just misunderstood.”

A harsh laugh left his lips. “Jesus (Y/n), why are you tryin’? You are unbearably naive. Always having soft spots, like that damn dog. Watch, Daryl is gonna bring you down to his shit level, and when he does, I ain’t gonna be there to help your pathetic ass. You’re gonna be risking your life for people who don’t give a damn about yours.”

Tears stung your eyes, hurt by your brother’s words. And Shane could see it. “You’re my sister, the only family I have left. I won’t have you taken away from me because of them.”

You felt like a fish out of water, the way your mouth was opening and closing. It took you a good minute before you could finally speak. “The world has gone to shit Shane. We need each other to survive, we can’t be divided.”

“(Y/n)-”

“You gotta get rid of your black and white thinkin’. Find common ground with them, not draw a line in the dirt and spit on it.”

You pushed his arm off and stomped off, you must’ve looked like a child.

“(Y/n).” He called out to you, watching you walk off.

You sat on a random rock once. You knew your path back to camp, you remained close by, in case of an emergency.

You wiped your eyes, frustrated. You took deep breaths, running your hands up and down your thighs to stop you from completely sobbing.

“The hell you doin’ out ‘ere?” You flinched, snapping your head around just to see Daryl with a string of rabbits over his shoulder.

“I could say the same.” You grumbled, turning your head back around. “Why you huntin’ out so late?”

“None of yer damn business.” He countered rather harshly. “You gonna answer?”

You were ready to rant but Daryl was a man of few words, and he preferred it if people got to the point instead of wasting his time. “Shane and I fought. He’s a fuckin’ asshole.”

“...Wan’ me to kill ‘im?” He asked, loading his crossbow and hearing a click.

A faint smile crossed your face, holding in the snicker you had coming. “I thank you for your offer. But I’ll be alright. He’s probably stressed.”

“What’ver you say.” Daryl turned around and walked away, just in time for Shane to appear. He didn’t bother giving Shane a second look.

“Still havin’ a hard time deciding if I’m real or not?” Rick asked, taking the water you handed him.

“No, I made up my mind when Shane told me. I knew your stubborn ass would come out sooner or later.” You laughed as well as Rick. You laid your head on his shoulder, sitting by the dead campfire with him.

Comfortable silence overcame you both, but Rick had questions. Especially when he hadn’t seen you and Shane speak, even when he returned.

“Shane… What happened?”

“Shane… He doesn’t think that the brothers are good.” You replied. “I understand where he’s comin’ from but Daryl’s different.”

“Talk to him often?”

“Not really.”

Rick sighed. “You’re too kind, one day that will come back an’ haunt you.”

Rick left the conversation at that, leaving you with your thoughts. You were stuck. You couldn’t focus and you didn’t want to be around your brother.

You joined Daryl despite his protest and annoyance. He allowed you to follow, even more when he learned that never shot a gun before when the topic of weapons came up.

“Don’t be lookin’ tense.” Daryl commented, his hand coming to your wrist. “Yer holdin’ it too tight, relax yer damn grip.”

You mumbled an apology, doing your best to take his advice. But after a couple of minutes of remaining tense, Daryl took away the gun. “That’s it, what’s on yer mind?”

“E’cuse me?”

“I ain’t gonna risk our food on you unable to shoot a damn gun.” You rolled your eyes. “Yer shit brother?”

You grumbled, cursing Shane under your breath. “I rather not think about it.”

“Yer gonna have to find a way to deal with yer shit if you ain’t gonna talk.”

“Like what? Takin’ care of myself?”

Daryl shrugged. “Probably.”

“What am I supposed to do here? Not much to take care of myself with.” You motioned to the trees that surrounded the two of you.

“Perfect place to jerk one out though. Quick and easy-”

“E’cuse me?” You repeated, a little louder this time.

“How many times you gonna say e’cuse me?” He horribly mimicked your voice. “The way ya lookin’ at me shows that you hadn’t done it.”

“I have.” You huffed but Daryl lifted his eyebrow. “I-It’s just- it’s difficult. I can’t do it when I know people are around or gonna be lookin’ for me. I don’t wanna be embarrassed.”

“Haven’t ya learned to do it quickly?”

“No… But are you willin’ to help?”

Daryl gave you a confused look. “Thought yer brother didn’t want you ‘round me? Would ya think he’d approve of this? Me touchin’ ya?”

“Who gives a damn what he thinks? He can’t decide what I want.”

He placed his crossbow against a tree and crossed his arms. “Ya gonna give somethin’ in return?” You nodded hastily. “Then take yer damn pants off.”

Your fingers pulled on his sandy blonde hair, taking gasps of air as you felt his tongue lapping all of your juices. How long has it been? An hour or two? How many orgasms have you had? You weren’t even going to try and count them all.

He kept a tight hold on your hips, he pulled you back whenever you pulled away. He had you laid against the dirt, feeling the pebbles and sticks poking at your back and head stopped bothering you when all you could think about was clouded.

Daryl remained between your legs, your thighs clenching around his head, the wetness covering the lower half of his face. His tongue danced around your folds and clit.

Daryl shifted his position, he kneeled, giving him a perfect view of your flushed body. A layer of sweat across your open skin, an arm thrown over your eyes and your other hand was no longer pulling at his hair but gripping a patch of patch.

He dipped one finger into your cunt, feeling you squeeze around him, making him add another. He slid his fingers in and out, fucking you quickly.

His other hand reached to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his fly and freeing himself. He jerked himself off using precum as a kind of lubricate. Each stroke of his cock was matched by the pace he was fingering you.

Above the wet sounds of your cunt, he could hear the soft moans leaving your mouth. His breathing fell into an unsteady pace alongside an occasional groan from the back of his throat.

Both of his arms were burning, moving faster than to what he was normally used to. A painful shiver ran through him, he was coming.

Another painful bolt. There was a hint of pleasure, but there was a different feeling. “H-Hold on-” Your back arched off the ground, a gasp cutting you off. “I think-”

He curled his fingers and repeatedly hit your g-spot. “C’mom baby, c’mom baby.” He repeated under his breath, twisting his fingers and scissored them inside of you.

You swore loudly, feeling the sudden release, squirting all over Daryl’s hand and pants. Daryl tossed his head back, leating out a strained fuck though his teeth. You felt his hot cum spill over your cunt, your arm moved away from your face and looked at Dary through your hazed eyes.

Daryl gave a couple of more pumps, stopping both of his hands. You gasped when his fingers pulled out, you could see the mess you made. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” Daryl chuckled, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking off the remaining juices on them. “Feelin’ better?”

You nodded, panting. “Very.”

“Good, ‘cause you still owe me.”

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 3 months

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Siren!Leon headcannons 🧜🏼‍♂️🐚

A/N: this was so much fun!!! I got a little carried away, but I feel there's still so much I could add here, so let me know if you want to see more! There's not smut in this one sadly, because um... idk.. how that would work?

~Fi 🐝

《Prompt》: lovely request by @maviettt is here!

《Warnings》: brief mentions of gore and Leon eating people, obessesive and possessive Leon, some angst, insecure Leon :(, lots of luv for the fish boy <3

《Word count》: 2.4k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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Siren!Leon, who spends his days luring all the pretty sailors to their demise, having himself a tasty meal of naivety and pure unawareness. I mean, what girl wouldn't be enarmoured with this handsome and so kind merman, right? With his blue, ocean eyes and shiny scales.

Siren!Leon, who lurs them in with promises of love and care, only to yank them into the deep sea and tear into them with his pointy teeth. He's not too fond of doing this, but he doesn't really have a choice, and you get hardened over the years.

Siren!Leon, who casually swims through a nearby Lagoon, catching a glimpse of you and your sisters lounging in the sun. You're laughing, and Leon swears that you're the Siren in this scenario. You look so pretty with your colorful, glittery tail. Your damp hair that's drying up from the salty water. The small trinkets braided into your locks and hung from your body.

Siren!Leon, who is always drawn back to this Lagoon, always wanting to see you again. He thinks you're a bright, shining pearl, and the world is your oyster. But he also understands that you're off limits to him. You would be scared of him, wouldn't you? You're such a pretty thing. His treasure.

Siren!Leon, who admires you from afar, always hoping to see you smile once again. He's infatuated with you. He's sighing dreamily when he sees you throw your head back in laughter or hiding your giggles behind your hand.

Siren!Leon, who looks for you after he hasn't seen you at the Lagoon for a while, only to find you washed up on the beach, all tangled up in a net. You look so... dry. The colors of your tail are dulled, and your skin doesn't look like it was kissed by the morning dew anymore.

Siren!Leon, who is so conflicted. He needs to help you, but what if he scares you? He doesn't want to risk that. You're the favorite part of his day! Alas, he relents and carefully swims up to you as close as he can before gently tugging you back into the water by your tail.

Siren!Leon, who holds you until you've gotten some of the ocean's energy into you. He can basically watch you flourish as you're returned to your home. But his heart breaks when you gain back consciousness and immediately try and get away from him.

Siren!Leon, who tries to explain to you that he just wants to help. You're still bound in the net, and you can't swim properly like this. You're obviously skeptical. Acting all kind and luring people in was kind of his deal as a Siren, after all. But there's something so soft about his voice and expressions.

Siren!Leon, who truly has no bad intentions, but he has to restrain himself from pouncing on you the second you give him the go-ahead to free you from the net with his sharp teeth.

Siren!Leon, who doesn't miss your blush, when his lips brush against your skin while he's chewing you out of your bounds. He can't help himself and grins, and accidentally bumps his lips against your scales more just to see you react.

Siren!Leon, who is quite flustered himself when you thank him and tell him that he's not as scary as you thought he would be. And when you tell him you like the color of his scales and his cute little fin ears, he is over the moon!!

Siren!Leon who tries to hide his malicious side from you as best as he can just because he is terrified that you would be scared of him. Maybe even disgusted. He doesn't want that.

Siren!Leon, who sees you wave to him on his usual morning round past the Lagoon, and he almost passes out. Yeah, he had saved you, but for you to so boldly be nice to him in front of your sisters? He's thinking of that for the rest of the day.

Siren!Leon, who gets bolder each day, waving back with a smile, maybe even greeting you and your sisters until he fully swims up to all of you! He's kinda crushed when your sisters scatter like little anchovies. He just wanted to say hi :(

Siren!Leon, who gets comforted and assured by you, saying that "they don't know you like I do." You explain how, although Leon is a Siren, he's so sweet! He saved you from certain death, after all.

Siren!Leon, who eventually gets taken in by your sisters, and he gets to lounge in the Lagoon with you. Some are still a little weary, but as time goes on, they all warm up to that smile and those pretty eyes.

Siren!Leon, who only has eyes for you. You are the sun in his sky, the moon that guides his tides. He's head over heels for you. It started off as forbidden glances, admiring your beauty, and now he is making you laugh and spending as much time with you as he can.

Siren!Leon, who knows you're falling for him too when you start bringing him little treasures and trinkets that you found. It's usually a shiny rock or a seashell, but sometimes you bring him valuable shinies from recent shipwrecks that you're not supposed to be around.

Siren!Leon, whose heart pumps out of his chest when he sees all your sisters nudging you in his direction with your hand behind your back and a red face. He revels in your cuteness when you shyly press the rock into his hand and speed off.

Siren!Leon, who starts calling you his treasure or his pearl. That's exactly what you are to him, and he needs the whole seven seas to know that. Plus, your pretty smile and the kiss to the cheek he gets from you after is a nice bonus.

Siren!Leon, who lets you decorate him and his tail when you run out of space on your own. You tie cloth and braided seaweed around his fin and arms, adding one of your little trinkets at the end. He wears them with pride because everyone knows they're from you.

Siren!Leon, who loves to braid your hair for you. You're always finding more pretty things to put in your hair, and you can't see the back, obviously, but he loves doing it for you. He gets so good to the point that he's doing all of your sisters' hair, too.

Siren!Leon, who rarely goes back to luring humans to their death, simply because he would rather spend time with you. He's acquired a taste for small fish, which unfortunately can't match the salivating taste of humam flesh, but he's willing to give it all up for you. he's still so worried that you'll catch him one day and see the monster he truly is.

Siren!Leon, who sits in the small tide pool close to a bay, soaking up the moonlight with you, and the way it makes you look ethereal. You look even prettier like this than in the sun. The silvery streaks reflect off of your features so beautifully, and he knows that he's doomed.

Siren!Leon, who spends all of his nights with you, not wanting that image of your lovely self dipped in the rays of Mother Moon to go away. He loves talking to you at night. Sharing quiet stories and tales interrupted by soft giggles.

Siren!Leon, who kisses you for the first time on the beach where he saved you. He melts when he finally feels your lips on his, and he's holding you so tight and full of love that you can't imagine being anywhere else.

Siren!Leon, who found a pearl at the bottom of the ocean, your favorite color, and he gives it to you as a gift under one of those moonlit nights. He's confessing his love to you, giving the pearl to you as a sign of always wanting to be with you.

Siren!Leon who doesn't know whether to blush and hide or be giddy like an idiot when he sees you wearing his pearl the next morning, showing it off to all your sisters who are all in awe of its beauty.

Siren!Leon, who loves to spend his days lying in the sand with you, playing with the many small braids and twists that adorn your silky locks. There's not much to do, but you make the days go by so fast.

Siren!Leon, who goes ballistic when your sisters rush to tell him that you've been captured by some filthy pirates while you were out exploring a new shipwreck, trying to find more odds and ends for your collection.

Siren!Leon, who can feel his blood boil in his veins. It's like a switch was flipped, and he falls back into his bloodthirsty and feral ways. It scares your sisters, but they know he's doing it for you.

Siren!Leon, who follows your scent and your soft pleads for mercy as the pirates decide whether to gut you or keep you for themselves. He has never swam this fast in his life. He had a strong tail, no doubt, but he pushed himself to his limit only to get to you.

Siren!Leon who feels so deeply and can feel the storm brewing inside of him. He can't help but feel somewhat reassured when dark, thick clouds rise in the sky and heavy winds, rain, and thundering streaks of lightning descend from the sky. He thanks Mother Moon with all his being for helping him rescue his treasure.

Siren!Leon, who sneaks close to the ship undetected, due to the heavy rain and loud thunder. He is out for blood, and one thing is clear; that ship will sink today, and he will make them pay.

Siren!Leon who punches holes into the body of the ship with his strong tail, making the ship sink slowly into the dark embrace of the ocean.

Siren!Leon, who when he finally gets to the bastard pirates, tears them to shreds without a thought. Thick crimson spills into the rowdy waters, and you can almost see the red reflecting in his eyes.

It's a mess of limbs and guts, the blood clinging to his pale skin like a curse. He doesn't want to admit how refreshing this felt- he was still a siren after all.

Siren!Leon who snaps out of his craze and immediately starts searching for you, calling out your name with desperation and fear. The lightning gets worse as he looks around frantically.

Siren!Leon, who finally spots you clinging to a piece of wood with bloody hands and teary eyes. He rushes over to you, and the relieved cries that rip from your throat make his heart hurt.

Siren!Leon, who scowls at the deep gash on your tail, no doubt courtesy of those pirates. He embraces you so softly, kissing your temple and whispering sweet reassurances to you.

You sniffled and looked up at him, the rain slowly washing away the blood that tarnished his skin. You spotted tears of his own welling up in his blue eyes, pained by the image of your wounded self. He never stopped stroking your hair and wiping away the rain that mixes with your tears as it falls on your face.

"They... they only hurt me because I didn't want to give them... this.." You spoke quietly, opening your bloody hand, revealing the pearl he had gifted you now smeared with blood. Leon felt his heartbeat all the way in his head. The gusting winds, loud thunder and the electrifying strikes of lightning died down and the surface of the water stilled into a soft ripple as he stared at you, not knowing what to do, or to feel.

Only the soft patter of rain on the ocean filled the silence that lingered between you two. Leon swallowed thickly and cupped your face, finding his words.

"My treasure, My pearl... why?"

You'd never heard him this hurt, defeated before.

"Because you gave it to me."

With your simple answer, he pulled you tight against his chest with his lips pressed to your forehead, hoping the rain would cover the tears that ran down his face, soaking into your hair.

Siren!Leon, whose blood freezes in his veins when you catch a glimpse of the massacre he had left and absolute horror washes over your face. He can feel his heart shatter with the way you look at him, with so much fear and- ...gratitude?

Siren!Leon, who gets the words knocked out of his head once again, when you softly touch his cheek and tell him that you're not afraid of him. You're still shaken up, in agony, and dismembered bodies aren't part of your usual routine.

But you tell him that you could never be scared of him. You know he would never hurt you, he loves you, and he only did what he needed to in order to rescue you. You're fully aware of what he is- a Siren, not a monster. He proved that to you many times with his gentle and kind nature. He feels pathetic when he breaks down as you whisper that you love him and press kisses to his hair. You're hurt, and he's crying, utterly overwhelmed by you and your love.

Siren!Leon, who will take care of you and the wound on your tail until it's fully healed. He gently drapes seaweed wraps over the gash and always makes sure you're not in any pain. He will make you hang onto him by his neck when he swims so you can still get around but not put any strain on your tail.

Siren!Leon, who plucks a scale from his tail and gifts it to you as full proof of his love and devotion for you. It hangs around your neck, right next to the pearl he had given you, and he can't help but smile when he sees how his shimmery blue scale looks against your skin.

Siren!Leon, who wears one of your scales on a cloth, tied around his arm, proudly showing it off whenever he can. Because he's as much yours as you are his. <3

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I loved writing this so much!! Lmk your thoughts on Siren!Leon <3

More Leon works are here 🩷

《Tag list》: @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy

Comment to be added!

#bumblebeesfromvenus #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #Siren!Leon #Siren!Leon Kennedy #f!mermaid!reader

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blueparadis · 1 year

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❝ HAUNTED ❞ + XAVIER THORPE !

+. CWs —» f!reader, switch!reader, outcast!reader, fluff, she/her pronouns, mutual pining, sexual tension, family drama, flirting, manipulation, mentions of abuse, blood, wounds & therapy, flashbacks in italics, supernatural themes ; explicit smut, s & d dynamics, bottom-dom!xavier, cowgirl position; word count-3.5k

+. PRECIS —» Xavier Thorpe has finally found the girl of his dreams after being haunted by her.

+. NOTES —» this is for my beloved sister @zoraedits ’s brainrot contribution.she won't stop making edits on him. && I'm tagging @orchid3a cuz i luv u

you can browse more of my works here. || also available in AO(III). reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

feel free to send in thirsts and suggestions for this show, Wednesday. This is my first time writing for shows like this; my main fandom spectrum is animanga but I do hope this was a good read for ya’all as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3.

The table calendar was full of red inks all over, dirt sedimented on the sketchbook, and the pencils laid in the case in absolute solitude. Xavier looked at the calendar kept on his desk near his bed in all despondency and a heavy sigh escaped from his lips. It has been days since he stepped into his studio, have not touched his art accessories for almost a month. One thing was for sure, he was plagued by visions in his dreams but this time it was nothing demising.

This time his sketchbooks were not filled by a monster, this time he was not afraid to draw rather he was drawn to it; part of him was stoked while sketching while a part of him was reluctant to draw the whole picture. He had spent countless sleepless nights before, not resorting to sleeping as he was threatened by nightmares. And now his sleep was peaceful as if entering into the realm of dreamland.

Xavier was sure that his mind was captured by a girl who came to visit him in his sleep, never showing her face, only showing herself in bits and pieces. He had spent his childhood receiving showers of praise for his talent for drawing but the origin was never happy. Of course, he enjoyed it and liked to show off his talent for art but secretly he wished his power would vanish into oblivion, for it was never pleasant.

People say that the art of someone reflects one’s persona, one’s raw feelings but Xavier always begged to differ since those memories, those incidents were never his. There always had been a wave of remorse that washed over him after he stepped out of his art studio since the praises he received never belonged to him.

Many were astoundingly taken aback by his knack for drawing and suggested he pursue art, to be a renowned artist but he knew he would lose all the glory once he stopped having those dreams. Moreover, he did not always have such dreams so the possibility of waking up one day and being unable to paint and as a result, staring at a blank canvas scared him to death. Heck! He even considered going to Doctor Kinbott so that his sanity would not be hanging by thread.

For the last couple of weeks, he has been dreaming of odd landscapes. Xavier had never seen them in his life yet he saw how the dusky crimson hue smothered the snowy mountain ranges, how the clouds gathered before the arrival of a rainstorm, how the birds sang songs and all the owes and pangs of nature. One thing he could conclude from those dreams was that whoever it belonged to was a chaser of freedom, that is, was a soarer of the sky.

Xavier had not told anyone about his dreams, nor put them on paper to ease his mind. What would he tell? What would he draw? Last night was particularly odd concerning the regular pattern of his dreams. He dreamt of falling from a high cliff into the water and a broken wing. When he woke up, he was all soaked, even his bed, and his olfactory senses did not miss the subtle scent of stagnant water. He was breathing rashly as if he was the one who drowned as if he was the one to fall.

He closed his eyes and tried to recapitulate his dream, searching for a mark, searching for a recognizable feature, searching for something, anything, anything at all. His desperation knew no bounds when left his dorm and rushed into his studio in the middle of the night since somewhere at the corner of his hopeless heart he knew he found one, a ray of hope.

A lot of crumbled papers surrounded Xavier as he tried accumulating the pieces from his puzzled mind. Around two o’clock he left his studio on his bicycle, the paper where he drew tucked in his pocket. He was sure he had witnessed the scenery before unlike the others. When he finally reached the top of the highland, he witnessed the view from his most recent dream.

The only thing that engulfed his presence was the sound of the waterfall echoing through the woods. He noticed a pond nearby and an adjacent high plateau near it. It was higher from where he was standing. After looking around for a few minutes he figured that there was no way to go there unless one swam through the stream or flew toward it.

On his way back, he felt happy, he felt sane. At least he had proof of the existence of a creature that haunted him, even in his wake. Xavier showered before going to bed just to clear his head before a good night's sleep. He kept a white feather as a bookmark in his sketch pad while a smile smothered his face. He was right. He was haunted by a fairy-like creature.

“Two cappuccinos”, Xavier mumbled as he went back to the counter at Weathervane. It was another event where all the students of Nevermore set foot into the world of normies to carry on the ties between two polar opposite worlds. But no matter how much one tried, the other always tried to retaliate. Their relationship was always on a tightrope, it could snap at any moment. And it certainly did.

“And you did not bother to tell me about this. . .”, Principal Weems trailed off as she left her seat, walked past her desk, and inclined against it, “until everyone in town became aware of it.”

“I thought I was going to be called insane or bullied. Last time I told something about my dreams, I found myself behind the bars.”, he responded, keeping his eye on the ground. Principal Weems exhaled grudgingly. She had no grounds to punish this boy since he was not entirely wrong. Hence, Xavier was dismissed with mere detention.

Xavier was forbidden from the school campus for a week. Everyone felt sorry for him, in his situation but secretly he could not be happier because he had all the time to draw, sketch, paint and think — and it was all about her, y/n.

That day at the café, Xavier was the sole witness of a crime. It happened so quickly, so fast that all she could do was succumb to her fate. A man was standing near the corner of the kitchen with his back facing Xavier. Xavier was not supposed to be here but he had to fetch some ingredients for making pastries and cupcakes.

As the man turned around, Xavier saw a bloodied butcher's knife in his hand. Near his feet lay a girl with a bloodied back the blood quickly spread all over her blouse. She stood motionless, like a statue. The eye contact was merely for two seconds and he immediately smashed the sugar jar on his head, distracting him, to tackle her out of the way.

The other townies turned up for help. Not all people in the world came to be cruel and heartless. All Xavier did was contact Principal Weems so that she could swiftly take care of this matter, which she had to otherwise the reputation of the Nevermore Academy would be in danger. The girl was taken to a nearby hospital.

Y/n L/n was her name. After the untimely death of her parents, she was raised by her uncle, by a normal family. Naturally, when she began to bloom, she was forced to be normal. One would think she tried to run, tried to hide or fight but Alas! none was the case for this matter. She felt indebted to her uncle and his family, for taking care of her, aiding her upbringing, fulfilling the role of parents, and hence helping her to be normal. But Xavier's presence on that day turned her life upside down. She was now a student at Nevermore Academy, funded by Principal Weems’ study forum.

After you recovered within a week, the first thing that dawned on you was to meet him, Xavier, the ‘ hero ’ of your life. You knocked on the door of his studio and waited for a while. There was no answer for a few minutes and when you finally made up your mind to leave, Xavier showed up. He was in his casuals with a teeth-flashing grin on his face.

“How’re you, y/n? The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed and now you’re here. in front of me.”, Xavier danced on his toes as he walked into his studio. You followed him and the moment you stepped into his studio you were taken all in awe. The room was filled with artboards, canvases, and sketch supplies, and everything reflected you. Indeed, y/n did not come here to be thankful for what he did since she was not. She was not happy with how her life seemed so devoid of any family. Her uncle was the last of her family and now he is gone. All because of him, Xavier.

“You look better than the last time I saw you.”, Xavier added as he felt the silence between the two of you deafening. You swallowed hard as he tried to ease the tense ambiance thinking how rude of him to remind you of the very wound he was responsible for. There was a desk with a closed sketch pad that caught your attention.

“Your drawings are very beautiful.”, you pitched in opening it and your heart dropped at the sight of your feather that was kept safely in between those rusty pages. A short gasp escaped your lips as the whirlwind of your life hit you.

Xavier was standing behind you, close to your shivering body. “They are all about you.”, a low whisper before he extended his hand to remove the veil from the canvas. The cloth dropped at your feet revealing every bit of dreary in you that you always wanted to hide. You hated how he could see through your pangs and pathos, you hated how he could and would have eradicated all of it, even if it meant being burnt by it. You swiftly tackled out of his towering frame, feeling naked even though you were more dressed than him.

“Stay away from me. You shouldn’t come near me.”, Surprise took Xavier in all proportions. His eyebrows became congested as you continued. “I’m grateful that you saved me but do not do that again, ever.” With that, you walked out of his studio but a firm grip on your wrist kept you from running away anymore.

“Listen, I’m being haunted by you, your pain, your emotions, and everything you feel for the past few months, and all you could say to me was to stay away from you… not even a proper thank you.”, His breath hit your lips as he drew in a sharp breath before his amber eyes landed on you, your shaky lips and pale eyes.

Embarrassment rushed into your cheeks and you pushed him lightly uttering, “Stay away” with a little glare to ward him off but when you vanished out of his sight he was not dejected, not at all. Sure, he was conflicted but the way you told him to stay away whereas your body spoke otherwise made him relish the chase that has haunted him for months now.

They say one can only save people only if one wants to be saved. You neither needed help nor saving but you could see why Xavier begged to differ, wanted to be the odd one out, and craved the crown from saving you from your only family. You always had been a rebel since your childhood, going against the flow of the stream. Somewhere in the corner of your heart, you knew you were different, you would be different.

It was the end of June when you first felt your body ache, back arch, muscles cramping excruciatingly as if someone was poking needles in your skin. Your arms clung to your body as your back bled for the first time. The wailing of such lethal agony submerged amidst the sound of rain as two enormous wings grew with lustrous hues of carmine and amber. Your breathing became regular again, your body stopped hurting as the wings flapped open involuntarily. Every mark, scar, and wound on your body since you were a child began to heal, all by themselves.

Everyone rejoiced when you went through the family ritual and stood in front of your clan as the last phoenix of your bloodline. It was a miracle that a phoenix had been born in the bloodline but just like with blessings it came with a massive price. You were a healer and a destroyer at the same time. Somewhere something has to die to keep you alive, again and again. Every time you were wounded or hurt, your mother had to lose some of her life until she became lifeless, forever. But the family oracle told your father that it is a part of the process, part of a phoenix's journey that every one of their loved ones had to sacrifice in one way or another.

Your father just had a miraculous idea to save you and himself from the bottomless pit of despondency and mutual hatred lurking in his heart because of you. He volunteered to sacrifice himself even if that was against his will. The oracle seemed to be unsure about the idea, saying that the cycle might shorten but not cease. But your father was right, the cycle did cease and you became aware of it when your uncle tried to chop off your wings, uprooting the evil once and for all, and no one in your family was harmed. Still, unfortunately, you were under the radar of an outcast, Xavier Thorpe. ‘What would happen if someone not from your bloodline were to sacrifice? What would happen to your mate if they were not an outcast? What would. . . thoughts would not cease to bombard your mind until a knock disrupted your trail of thoughts.

You lifted your eyes for a glance only to find Xavier inclining against the bookshelf with a saccharine smile on his face. Your stomach turned at the sight of him. ‘How can a person be so forgiving?’ but it seems that he is rather forgetful than forgiving. He picked up a random book from the shelf and sat in front of you.

“You’re hurt. . .”, you murmured to which he responded, “more than you think . . .” while turning the pages of the book and occasionally stealing glances from you. You rolled your eyes and leaned towards the table eyeing his hands that had a lot of scratches. It was probably from a silly fight with other boys, maybe the normies; for him, it was just a scratch yet for you it was an opportunity to apologize for the other day.

“Give me your hand.” As you extended yours, Xavier's reflexively recoiled under the desk. “I’ve no intention of harming you.”, you uttered touching the palm of his other hand that was still on the desk. “Besides, I’m just clearing my debts.”

“Um-hm.”

You inhaled sharply before you flapped those lustrous enormous wings to heal with him, his wounds. Your wings glowed for almost a minute and the hand that was hurt was healed which he was hiding under the desk. It is impressive how Xavier hurt the very hand that can create masterpieces. What a clutz! He interlaces his fingers with yours as he murmured, “A touch . . . is all you need.”

You begrudgingly pulled your hand away standing up and yelling whisperingly, “stop it. stop this. . . and don’t come near me.” With that, you grabbed your book and went towards the exit of the library. Xavier sat like a child who would mourn for the broken toy rather than demand anew.

“Wait.”, Xavier followed you. He kept yelling in the middle of the corridor, “Y/n. wait.”

“Your wings.”, you finally turned your head but not without letting out a sigh of annoyance. “You’re hurt. . .bleeding” and that is when fear crawled underneath the skin.

“I never bleed.”, you retorted.

“And, I never lie.”

If it were someone else, you would have shooed them away. But this was Xavier, who saved you from an inevitable, to whom you owed nothing but the truth. Even though you tried to heal yourself you could not, perhaps because you healed someone and that too for the first time.

Xavier might be persistent but he was not dull. It didn't take him long to connect the dots and hence you had to do the very thing you wanted to avert from the first place. His room was not tidy but not neat and clean either. With Rowan gone he has the room all to himself. You wanted to go to the infirmary, but there wasn't anyone available. Besides, with all the mess you are in you didn't want to risk it.

“I promise I'll behave.”, he said, swinging his hands up in the air in a form of surrender. That made you smile a little as you turned around so that he could tend to the wound. He unzipped your dress and carefully tucked it along your waistline without harming the feathers. Even though you had your camisole on, you still felt naked. His fingers brushed against your skin. It was ice cold. You had to hold your breath as he dressed the wound.

Xavier noticed how your shoulder blades had been marked. He grazed his fingers over the part from where your wings grew that made you instantly shriek and move away from him.

“Are you done?”, you asked, surprise and embarrassment coursing through your skin. Your upper body was barely clad, nothing but an unhooked bra.

“No.”, and within a blink, his lips were already on yours. You could taste the longing and desperation with each suck. Your hands curled around his nape as his hands got rid of the minimal clothing from your upper body. “First time?”, he asked as he moved away leaving you breathless yet craving for more.

“Why? You care?”, you blurted out stepping out of your dress. Xavier eyed you from up and down. You did not flinch but rather smiled as you noticed his astonished face. You had nothing on but just the underwear.

“I do.”, one of his eyebrows jumped as he knelt near you. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”, he murmured grabbing your calf muscles and kissing your femininity over the cloth. He took a glance before tucking the hem of the panty in between his fingers and undid it. Your hand reflexively went over his head as he kissed your entrance, lapping over your pussy lips that made you suck in a sharp breath. He sucked on your skin, followed by a feeble bite into your inner thighs.

“AH!”, you winced pausing his ministrations. “Don’t you taste divine?”, he whispered kissing your lips, wetting them with the blend of his saliva and your slick. He was too dressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him and he took the hint. You co-operated as he became almost naked, and was back up even though you wanted him to continue.

“You won’t hurt me. worry for yourself.”, you said as you felt his hands palming your cheeks a little too long than they should. His hands traveled back to your entrance and you moaned under his slight touch.

“What? Never played with yourself?”, he added that surely turning the cogs in your head. You pushed him onto the bed, sitting on him struggling to take his cock in and he was not even helping. All he did was watch you let out whimpers of frustration as you lazily glided on his cock. He rested himself on his elbows saying, “Look at me.” And as you did, his fingers dig into your plush ass cheeks slowly adjusting you at a proper angle and stretching you. You kissed him so break the eye contact that made you feel naked, even though you were. Both of you jolted as you could feel his cock inside you.

His hands clamped around your waist as you bobbed on him, with greater force and broader strokes but slow. With each sloppy hit you felt his cock twitch inside you; your hands desperately roamed all over your body, heat bubbling as you could feel your body tensing, picking up the pace he was setting you in, and the orgasm lurking underneath. You can tell; a few more strokes and you would cum so easily.

He can feel it too. Xavier winced as he felt you clenching around his cock. His legs folded to support your back while your hands flew to his shoulder blades, his knuckles turning white, his grip growing stronger around your waist and you came right away, back arching and your wings flapping open involuntarily, eyes rolling white relishing the high as your thighs squeezed in.

With your breathing rash and heavy, you felt all mushy in the head and so was he. Xavier could have sworn that he has not seen anything more beautiful than this, than you sitting on him with his cock buried inside you; your skin glistening in sweat with your gorgeous wings at the display.

As soon as Xavier’s breath relaxed a bit he pulled you into his embrace for a kiss. He could not help it, you were too beautiful to look at. Besides, he was not done, not yet.

—

by @blueparadis

3K notes · View notes

robbie-wallis · 9 days

Text

I need to vent about Watcher, endure it if you can

Relax, this isn't a parasocial thing, but it is a long ass post, which suits me as a long ass human.

I need an outlet to discuss the terrible business decision Watcher has made by announcing their plan to leave YouTube, and this long-forgotten Tumblr account reached from its grave to grab at my ankle.

If you didn't see their video, good for you. It's extremely cringe-worthy in its sentimentality and editing, with blurry shots, pensive pauses and obligatory sad piano.

But at least there's no f'ing Ukulele.

Although, I think we might get the Ukulele in a few months.

Even though anyone who reads this is probably familiar with what the "Ghoul Boys" have done, I feel as though I need to add a little history.

WATCHER HISTORY

You can skip this part if you've been obsessively following the shenanigans, this is for the noobs who were never a "shaniac" or a "boogara".

Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara used to work at Buzzfeed. They hosted the successful Buzzfeed Unsolved shows. In 2019 they followed in the footsteps of the Try Guys and Safia Nygaaard and left Buzzfeed to create their own YouTube channel named "Watcher".

They brought along Steven Lim, another Buzzfeed person who is most known for the "Worth It" series. This series followed Lim and his friend/s spending obscene amounts of money on obscenely overpriced and indulgent products.

Think of it as being similar to the $100 V's $10,000 Sidemen content, only without the self-awareness and British "bad lads" humor.

Notably, even the Sidemen seem to have cut back on those adventures, perhaps understanding how bad it looks when so many people are struggling to pay their essential bills.

Steven became the CEO of Watcher while Shane and Ryan continued to create and present for the new channel.

They were wildly successful by YouTube standards. At the time of their self-spanking on Friday they were close to achieving 3 million subscribers, in just 4 years, based on basically only 2 cornerstone shows. If Social Blade is still a reasonably trusted source in everything but estimating income, they were gaining thousands of new subscribers every week.

Their most successful shows were Ghost Files, Puppet History, Too Many Spirits and Mystery Files.

Ghost Files is the only one of these shows which requires heavy investment, travel, a large crew and impressive production costs. These videos are shot on-location and require a lot of work. The rest are basically Good Mythical Morning style, just the two hosts and their banter.

Aside from Ghost Files, their content could be created with 3 cameras, 2 lapel mics and a good editor.

They were massively successful, solely because of Ryan and Shane.

THE DEMISE

So, what did they do on Friday 19th April? They decided to announce the launch of their own subscription platform.

Not a Patreon for extra content, behind-the-scenes, audience interaction etc, (they already had a Patreon with 6,000 paying subscribers earning them at least $50k a month), but a bespoke streaming platform which looks like a clone of Netflix.

The cost is $5.99 a month, or $60 a year.

Comparable to Netflix.

And by that I mean the price is comparable to Netflix while the content is comparable to a 4 year old YouTube channel.

Don't get me wrong, their production quality is incredible. The quantity, however, is not.

From the end of May viewers will have to pay to be a subscriber on their own platform in order to watch their shows.

They'll still be posting their trailers on YouTube, and the first episodes of new shows, but to watch it all you'll have to pay up or miss out.

Edited to add: Variety originally reported the Watcher crew were planning to remove all their existing content from YouTube to monetize it on their own platform. It's since been confirmed they will not be removing their old content. Fans are undecided whether this was a back-track after the announcement or a misunderstanding by Variety. You be the judge.

Of course, they're entitled to do this. They are creating a product and you can either enjoy it or not. No one is entitled to see it, for free, whenever they like.

Why did they do this?

Half of the sombre video gushes about their "humble beginnings" as "struggling young guys in a big harsh world", which comes across as extremely self-indulgent and ego-stroking.

A quarter of it explains how insanely successful they've been on YouTube and how this is all thanks to the fans who stuck with them after Buzzfeed, how it's allowed them to hire 25 people, how it's given them the freedom to create what they enjoy making and what the viewers want to see, and - most importantly - how it's allowed them to increase production quality on Ghost Files.

The final quarter of the video explains that this isn't good enough, the quality isn't high enough, the finish not glossy enough, it's not "TV caliber" enough! They want more, they need more, you have to give them more, mostly (apparently) because their CEO Steven Lim wants to bring back his show where he flies around the world with his bestie sipping Champagne and eating gold-leaf-covered lobster.

In short, they want more money to make even bigger things, even though their audience never asked for that.

WHY IT WILL NOT WORK

Oh my goodness, this is going to be a ride so strap in.

I'm not a YouTube creator so there are a lot of things I do not know. Having said that, I know a little about business.

This ain't Buzzfeed, y'all

Watcher became successful because of Ryan and Shane. It was their friendship, their personalities, and the content we loved to watch featuring them at Buzzfeed, that brought us along for the ride.

The audience they poached from Buzzfeed is there for them and Ghost Files. It's not there for Steven Lim and "Worth It". His show worked under the Buzzfeed umbrella only because they had numerous sub-categories in that community to support it.

The Try Guys left and created their own channel from their Buzzfeed fans.

Safia Nygaard left and created her own channel from her Buzzfeed fans.

Shane and Ryan left and created Watcher from their Buzzfeed fans.

Steven Lim left and became the CEO of Watcher. He didn't take his audience with him.

The audience of Watcher is not the audience of "watch me fly around the word with my pal and spend $100K on hand-reared, Whiskey marinaded, diamond-encrusted Kobe steak".

And... IN THIS ECONOMY?

Steven chose to become a CEO instead of a presenter. He's missed the opportunity to take that Buzzfeed audience with him.

This is made clear by the Watcher channel itself. Their "man eats food" content rarely breaks 500K views while their Ghost Files breaks 2 million consistently.

If a million of their viewers followed them from Buzzfeed to Watcher, the other 2 million have joined them since, based almost entirely on their spoopy content.

Not only did they base their channel on this genre and format, they have distilled their audience further ever since the creation of their channel and no matter how hard they try to diversify into "man eats food" it's just not working.

This ain't Netflix, y'all

As mentioned, the $5.99 charge is comparable to Netflix and just about every other streaming platform. Only Watcher can't give you even 5% of what a competing platform can offer for that price.

Other platforms also tailor their content and their pricing based on geographical location and localized economics.

You're paying far less than $5.99 a month if you live in an economy where the median household income is $300 a month. YouTube has a global audience. Their subscribers don't all live in a stable economy where $5.99 is considered disposable income.

We don't know the numbers, but I would guess only 60% of their subscribers are based in the USA, Canada, and the UK.

Even for those who do live in a stable economy, their audience is predominantly young adults and students. Most young adults are currently facing the reality that they will possibly never own their own home, they're living day-to-day trying to budget.

They've instantly priced-out a large % of their audience.

I confidently predict that diehard fans who can't see anything wrong with this will sign up for $5.99 a month, binge watch for a couple of weeks, realize there's no new spoopy content and cancel.

They'll come back when a full season of Ghost Files has arrived, pay again, binge it and leave.

Steven Lim thinks they're gonna get $5.99 a month, every month, from thousands of subscribers. In reality they're going to get maybe $12 a year, from people signing up to binge watch what they want, then leaving.

This will then decline naturally as attention wanes during the months where there is no spoopy.

This ain't good marketing, y'all

They're going to be posting "trailers and season pilots" on YouTube.

Sure, I bet YouTube is gonna be totes okay with a channel doing nothing but trying to hijack traffic for an external site.

Posting nothing but trailers and season premiers will mean maybe one full video per month during busy seasons. That's not enough to remain relevant for the algorithm.

If 80% of those posts are also just trailers saying "leave YouTube and come here", the channel will be smacked down quicker than a crypto scam using an AI generated Elongated Muskrat.

Their channel was growing steadily, but that was with full content regularly posted. When the schedule drops off, and when most of it is considered spammy by YouTube, it's going to collapse like a flan in a cupboard.

A streaming platform needs a constant flow of new subscribers just to replace the gradual drop-off (maybe ask Rooster Teeth about that). When your global audience at YouTube is gone, where are those new subscribers coming from?

The platform is also an additional overhead. It's going to cost thousands a month to keep the servers going.

This ain't good financial management, y'all

I don't know if they've already spent hundreds of thousands of $s on Lim's "men eat food" gamble, but I suspect they have.

I know they have spent hundreds of thousands of $s on a new season of Ghost Files, flying to the UK to host live events while filming those episodes.

This means they've over-extended their finances just at the moment where they've cratered their opportunities to see a return on investment.

Just that, on its own, is enough to destroy a production company.

They do not need 25 employees any more than I need an editor and proof-reader for this long ass post.

They do not need a production studio in Hollywood any more than I needed an office to write this.

They do not need to spend tens of thousands of $s on glossy graphics that appear on screen for maybe 4 seconds in one episode any more than I needed to add screengrabs to this painfully long essay.

By leaving YouTube they've lost:

Adsense revenue (which might not be much on a per-video basis but adds up with a back catalogue over years of productions)

Sponsorship deals, which allegedly contributes almost 50% of their annual revenue.

Merch sales, which is about to crash if the only people they can promote merch to are already paying per month in their smaller ecosystem.

Patreon. Why would someone pay $5.99 twice, for the same or less content?

And they've abandoned all of this for maybe a few thousand people who will probably end up paying just $12 a year when a new spoopy season arrives for them to binge.

I'm no Will Hunting, but no matter how hard I try to make the numbers work they just don't, and I don't need Robin Williams to tell me it's not my fault.

This ain't nice, y'all

Some of you are feeling like Ned's wife right now, and some of you will have no idea what that's in reference to.

Most of you will hate that I made that reference more than you hated the SNL skit.

I get it.

Maybe the worst part about all of his, from a viewer's perspective, is the dismissive nature of their sign-off.

They didn't mention the Patreon members once, not one single time in the whole video. It's like they consider the Patreon "too YouTube". They're the deformed cousin locked in the attic. They're the relative who wasn't invited to the wedding because they can't afford a Tom Ford suit. They're the colleague who isn't invited to the staff night out because they only work in accounting and no one has anything in common with Janice anyway.

These are diehard fans who were actually paying them extra to support them and enjoy a little bonus behind the scenes, and the boys didn't even consider them worthy of an utterance.

They also finished with "If you don't follow us and pay up it's been real, peace out". I'm paraphrasing, but that's basically what it was.

They spent so much of the video saying how awesome and great it was that the fans and YouTube got them to this point, but they didn't thank their Patreon members, and they ended with a blunt suggestion that if you don't follow them and pay more then you're not a real fan anyway and they don't really need you.

"Thanks for getting us here, sucks to be you, bye now!"

You made them wealthy, you helped them hire 25 people, you helped them increase production value to "TV caliber" even though you didn't ask for that, but your job is done and now you're superfluous. Only the real fans are wanted.

In the words of the great George Carlin - "It's a big club, and you ain't in it".

They're okay losing the vast majority of the people who got them here if a few thousand of those are comfortable enough to be able to pay $60 a year for a YouTube channel.

Can it get worse? Sure!

We've had a weekend to enjoy the constant heat of this bonfire and it's predictably worsened with each hour of silence from the company and its employees.

The fact that they haven't back-tracked, despite almost unanimous agreement that this is badder than the baddest thing that could happen to their company, suggests they're okay with it.

Consensus seems to be that they knew it would be this bad, and they're cool. They predicted 90% of people would scream "Boo to you good sirs! Boo indeed!" and they could still survive on the 10% who don't see a problem here.

The lack of response reinforces the narrative that they're totally fine with discarding almost their entire audience if they can just squeeze the cash they need out of whoever is left.

This ain't fixable, y'all (maybe)

Note: I don't want this to be mean, but it's going to sound a little bitchy no matter how I try to say it.

If they'd brought out the Ukulele on Saturday, or even teased Ukulele's on their socials before putting out a video on Sunday, they probably could have survived this with much hand-wringing and a little groveling.

But now I think they've grilled this Kobe steak for far too long.

They've lost 100K subscribers, and counting. The venom among Patreon members is allegedly worse than the public comments section under the video, which is startling. Dozens of YouTubers are torching them harder than a $100 crème brûlée.

People are scraping their channel content in case it's nuked.

Shane "eat the rich" Madej's sentiments over the last few years look disingenuous, to say the least. To shamelessly steal someone else's comment: "Imagine being all 'eat the rich' right before throwing yourself on the plate". He's silent while his McMansion burns down, at his own hands. "Why not!?" indeed.

Steven "I drive a Tesla" Lim's socials now make him look like a tech-bro try-hard and his use of words like "early adopter" and "soft launch" in the video only compound the belief that this was all his brainchild. He is the CEO, and that comes with responsibility and the associated blame. You can't steer the ship into the Bermuda Triangle and then disappear without looking like the bad guy.

Okay, you can disappear, but that convoluted metaphor is a mystery for someone else to solve.

Ryan "TV caliber" Bergara now sounds like an elitist who thinks YouTube is "too pedestrian" for his big plans, not big enough to meet his artistic vision. You see, he's more James Cameron, while YouTube is more like your student film club. He's grown beyond this pesky platform with billions of daily hits offering exponential growth with almost zero financial risk.

Even if they released a video today admitting they messed up big time it's still going to be hard to get the taste of this Ghost Pepper Warhead out of the collective mouth of their viewers.

This hasn't just burned their shared brand, it's singed their individual reputations among an audience upon which their careers rely.

What they should have done, on Saturday, is release a video (Ukulele or no) confessing their error. They should have announced their new platform will instead just be a bigger and better Patreon, with early access to everything, behind-the-scenes content, extra features, audience interaction etc.

They should have reversed to make clear their YouTube channel will stay the priority, their main source of revenue, but that you could get more on their own platform if you want it.

And, maybe, over time, people will pay for that. If they grow their channel to 6 million subscribers in the next 4 years there will be a couple hundred thousand of them willing and able to pay $5.99 a month for 8 years of shows, 8 years of behind the scenes content, 8 years of community involvement and regular early access to new episodes.

Maybe then they could try out their "privileged guys eat expensive food in expensive places" show and see how it does? Maybe a majority of people won't be living on the cusp of poverty by then and it won't look as tone-deaf as a 13 year old YouTuber trying to cover Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"? Maybe then they could hire another 50 people and make Bergara's "TV caliber" (I still don't know exactly what that means) game shows and reboots?

The clock has been ticking since they hit that "publish" button on their career ending video, but that clock is about to count down to zero and silence will permeate throughout their previously lively community.

That 1980s basement set needed someone crying in the corner, right?

The problem is, their own platform is not a terrible idea. Really, it's not the worst thing they could do. The badness came in the timing, the switch, the middle finger and the f you. They could have released this as an extra, their own Patreon alternative, waited, developed it over time into something sustainable and established.

They could still try to do that and hope this dark chapter is forgotten.

Maybe I'm wrong? Maybe Lim is a financial genius with more skill than the management of Rooster Teeth and their corporate parent company combined? Maybe this gamble will be wildly successful despite all streaming services down-sizing or just going bankrupt? Maybe they won't be back on YouTube in 3-6 months begging for views after having to lay off 20 of their employees?

I know this... if I were one of those 25 employees blind faith would not be enough to stop me from looking for another job.

I suppose this will, for now, remain... a mystery.

EDIT:

I'm not writing another essay about this, but I'm glad to see they've backtracked and made the right choice to use WatcherTV as any sane creator would - to host early access and exclusive content in addition to their YouTube channel.

Over time, while promoting it in every video, building up that trust and fan base, it can be a secure and long-term financial bonus helping them to expand their business incrementally as finances allow.

Why this wasn't the plan all along is anyone's guess. Gambling everything on this was never the sane decision.

I still think they need to scale back on costs. I still think the food content is not currently a viable source of income while being a serious drain on resources. I still think they need to stop hiring all their friends and they need to hire one person who doesn't have personal relationships with everyone there and can make the tough business decisions.

No one likes firing people, it's ten times worse when it's a friend. But this is a reality of business and just wishing it wasn't so isn't going to make it go away. It would be awesome if we could all run a business where we can hire all our friends and family, never have to rely on any outside funding, make whatever we want, make a great living in one of the most expensive cities in the world and continue to grow.

That's just not the reality.

Their apology was genuine, in my opinion. I just hope they can work out the right financial balance.

#watcher #ghoul boys #steven lim #watcher entertainment #shane and ryan #ghost files

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ay0nha · 7 months

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This world needs sanji ANGST...i haven't seen anything like that that isn't immediatley fluff so plz plz plz do angst OR maybe enemies to lovers but reeealll enemies ther'es gotta be beeeffff

tension. jealousy. protectivness. what the hell. where is it.

thank u :3

Pairing: opla!Sanji x f!reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: canon-typical things, smoking, cursing, the Baratie, mentions of annoying/handsy costumers, RUSHED ending (sorry), etc.

A/N: Hello anon! Thank you so much for the request. I started a little sm sm based of this request and a couple similar ones. It's just a start, so let me know if I should turn this into something more/longer...I have ideas...COMMENTS ENCOURAGED. Enjoy.

PART II

You always preferred sailing on quiet nights.

Fewer lights from the ship scared the stars into submission. It was the only time your shoulders settled and your breaths became leveled. The air’s humidity wrapped you in warmth and the patterned waves lulled your racing thoughts.

Yet, the lights of the Baratie reminded you that those idyllic nights remained only in memory, few and far between. The chatter radiated an aura, which functioned as a reminder of the never ending responsibilities of hospitality.

Your dwindling cigarette marked the time left of your break, but you savored every second. You slouched into your shoulder, head resting softly to the side to acknowledge the footsteps approaching you.

“Sanji.” Even with your back to your newly found company, you knew who had found you. He always had. “If Zeff sent you…” You drew in a deep and finalizing breath, the crackle satisfying in contrast. “Turn around and fuck off.”

The breath of his laughter exposed his delight at your demise. “Your funeral—

“—Our.” You corrected him. Finally offering a glance, you saw he’d replaced his apron for a tie. Always trouble, you thought.

“Nah, you’ll be alright…” He tutted with humor. “Regardless, who can I count on to spit on my grave?”

You hummed to hide a semblance of a smile. Sanji’s charm was worthless to you, never working in his favor. It had taken years of coaxing past vindication to even occupy the same space. So as always, you’d removed yourself to create a more familiar distance.

“Funny.” You only ever entertained him with sarcasm. Flicking your butt into the darkness, you began to walk away. “Just don’t get in the way.”

The night was busy—every night was busy. You hadn’t minded the adrenaline or the late hours. It was what kept you going, kept you from realizing that slowing down would never be an option.

But then the constantly spinning world stopped. Your wrist was caught in the hand of a guest, the very one whose crude remarks failed to cause a reaction. However, your plastered smile only encouraged him. You became a challenge he hadn’t realized would eventually retaliate.

It caused a scene, glass to be broken, and scolding from Zeff that echoed throughout the kitchen. Your pent up venom led you to an ultimatum; cool off or leave. Now, your headache dulled in comparison to the nausea you felt walking back in.

Hearing your name you turned to see Sanji’s face illuminated with his lighter. His eyes were fixed on his task, but you knew he was speaking directly to you. “You’re alright, though? Right?”

It was happening more frequently than you’d like to admit; your sarcastic insult caught in your throat and your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth. Your words were lost. Sanji was responsible for the confusion of feelings and it only furthered your resentment.

Yet, your voice was never found and so you nodded with promise.

Instead, your wrist throbbed and you were sure by the end of the service the bruising would surface. But you rolled it as if the action could wash away the pain. You straightened your posture, pulled a practiced smile, and held a soft air as you began again greeting guests table by table.

The people dining waited their turn just as those rubbing elbows with them. From the decor, the crystal, story of the menu, even you were a part of the experience. Performance was key and you were nothing but stellar at pretending to be someone else.

“Good evening—” You greeted. Your voice could have been mistaken for sultry. Some nights you struggled to recognize yourself. “—I’ve noticed you’re back and your wine is getting low.”

“Always attentive, you.” The Baratie regular reveled in the banter. It was formulaic at this point, but the atmosphere captivated you both.

“I can’t help but play favorites.” You countered, granting a heavy pour of wine into his glass. Your dress cut low, ever dip intentional to distract from the mountain of Berries owed for the aged wine provided.

His eyes took in your figure, falling into the trap. “Apparently, I’ve got competition.”

You wanted to feel good, as you normally did. The fabric complimented your physique and kissed your skin with such sensuality. The feeling of hungry eyes on you never grew old. The assurance was always refreshing. However, there was a weight tonight that wasn’t the fault of the fabric.

“Pirates can never resist treasure.” You pushed past the crack in your demeanor. You smiled wider, but your eyes cast down at your wrist hoping it didn’t reveal too much too soon.

The bark of laughter almost made you flinch. “Not the filthy pirate! Your friend there—” The man continued, complaining about nonsense while raising his already dwindling glass to Sanji. “100 Berries he’s spit in my food.”

That swirl in your chest had just settled, but it returned as your eyes met Sanji’s. His glare wasn’t shy, burning through you. Judgment about your pairing of wine, most likely. Regardless, you noted the fluidity in his movements pulled him closer to you.

The man laughed at the slight staring contest. You internally cursed at breaking first.

“He’s harmless.” You muttered, pouring another serving of wine. Moving your body kept you distracted from the unspoken.

“Harmless?” The man scoffed, inebriation heavy in his inflection.“The scum of a pirate walked—well, crawled really—out of here with nothing but a bloody promise of a slow death.”

You remained light and playful as you finished the conversation, distracting your regular enough to slip away. You made your rounds just as Sanji had, but you were clever to dance around him, avoid him.

It worked at first, but it only aggravated Sanji. He spoke loudly and boldly about the well-known service, slipping in insults and intentionally sabotaging everything you’d just smoothed out. It may not have been intentional. It rarely was if you thought about it, his disappointment reserved for Zeff.

It was as though Sanji had tunnel vision. His upset became yours conscious or not, as every complaint and move he made contradicted yours. It made you trip and stumble. It began to make the night agonizingly slow as he became the barrier between you and the end of the service.

You’d boiled over, pulling harshly on his arm until you both crammed into a blindspot of the rest of the restaurant.

Sanji’s eyes blew wide, but his smirk only widened. Even in his state of mild shock, his mind wandered. “What are you—

You straightened his tie harshly, a threat. “Fix your attitude.”

“Mine?” He countered with disbelief. “If Zeff understood—

“I don’t care about Zeff. I don’t care about you.” You hissed, pushing a finger deep into his chest. Slowly your composure was unraveling, but you regained it quickly, speaking pointedly, “What I care about is this night being over.”

Sanji took the beat of silence to look between your eyes. You were frazzled, your collectedness hanging on by a thread. He could guess why, but you’d never admit he was correct.

“Are you even listening?” You prompted again, ready to move back with utter impatience.

However, Sanji touched the wrist that was within distance causing your body to freeze. “You need ice.”

His hold was gentle, but he felt the heat come from the swelling. The pain was catching up to you.

“Enough.” You spat, wobbling with your steps backward. “Enough of—” Tonight, you wanted to say. The kindness threw you off, made you feel seen in a way you wouldn’t accept. “Just—

“We’ll finish the night smoothly.” Sanji spoke evenly, decidedly for the both of you. “Then, I’ll find ice for you.”

Your chin raised for your childness to surface. “I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt.” Sanji felt his emotions settle on his face, the smirk was hard to call on, but the air had become too tense not to with such unfamiliar territory. “But yet, If I don’t help you, you’ll milk it for weeks and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

#QUEUE #I'm nervous writing for someone new #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #black leg sanji #one piece #one piece sanji #opla!sanji x reader #opla #opla sanji #opla!sanji x f!reader #opla!sanji fluff #opla!sanji angst #sanji angst #sanji fluff #sanji x reader #sanji x you

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maximumkillshot · 6 months

Text

"I Can't Lose You" Part 3

Warnings: This one is bad... Like bad bad. Uhm so please pay attention to these warnings. *Brings out a scroll with a solemn face.* Descriptions of Blood, Emergency medical procedure explainations, Shock, Grief, Chan gets shoved once, (IF YOU WANT NO SPOILERS AND KNOW YOU CAN HANDLE THE FIC CONTINUE) Child Loss, Descriptions of miscarriage.

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters: OC Doctor, Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: I know the cut is very high up but I needed to be sure that it wouldn't trigger someone would get triggered by the story. I am so sorry I am doing this to y'all. But here we are. Enjoy getting your heart ripped out? I guess. IF YOU WANT MORE TELL ME!

Also remember, this is a fan fic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not.

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

NOW:

Once both Bin and the Doctor were in the hall and closed the sliding door separating you from the bustling main hallway, Bin got that feeling again. That sick feeling that something was wrong. The doctor looked like he was trying to stay professional.

It was then that Bin noticed the doctor's wedding ring. He wondered to himself if the doctor was like Bin. So deep in love that seeing anyone else doesn’t just feel blasphemous, but it’s so out of the question it’s nauseating. The doctor began.

“Are you her husband?” He asked.

“No…” Bin replied. He could feel the bile rising in his throat with that one question. He immediately thought, If I was this never would’ve happened.

“Are you family?” The doctor looked at him.

“Yes. Are they okay?” Bin looked at the doctor.

“She lost a lot of blood, through something called a hemorrhage. It’s a rare complication especially this early on. She wouldn’t have made it if this happened at home. But it’s under control now.” the doctor said. He seemed to be trying to be as sympathetic as possible, making the next question sting more.

“Okay, and the baby?” Bin asked as he was trying to hold on to the possibility, some shred of hope that you and the baby were okay. He didn’t want the answer to be…

“I’m sorry.” The doctor slowly shook his head as he bowed his head slightly. The doctor looked guilty, like this was the worst part of his job, not being able to save someone.

“How? Why?” Bin asked as it felt like his heart twisted. He didn’t know how you were going to get through this. He knew you too well. He knew that the pain you were about to feel, the emotional pain, would spell your demise... Bin couldn’t wouldn’t let that happen.

“There is a cause-and-effect relationship that stress, extreme traumatic stress, like what you described, can cause a mis--” “Please don’t finish that word.” Bin pleaded with tears in his eyes. That word. He’s never hated a word in his life, until now. A word like that, even the word Death is kinder. To die you need to have lived in the first place, breathe air, feel emotions, like happiness, fear, love… None of those things happened for your child, through no fault of their mother. The same woman he’s staring at, the very same woman he always stared at.

“The fact that she went through the shock as well as the prolonged stress after that shock, and didn’t have any previous symptoms of that happening prior to that, rules out all of the other options.” he paused and looked at his ring. Bin could tell what he was thinking, the doctor’s jaw tight, I could never dream of doing that, then continued, “You know her better than I do. Will she need something to calm her down?”

“Yes… but I don’t think she’ll accept it.” Bin looked back at you and Han. You looked so out of it. Like you were and were not there simultaneously. He has never seen you like this. From what he could see it looked like Han was doing his best to distract you. He was playing with your fingers as he joked.

It was convincing enough to relax you, but Bin knew better. His eyes are always so expressive, if he's genuinely relaxed, his eyes show it. Bin could tell that Han was many things at this point in time, and worry free was not one of them.

“Would you like to tell her?” the doctor asked. That question made Bin think a little bit. If he did tell you, he didn't know if you'd believe him. It's easier to ignore reality when the person breaking the news isn't a doctor. You'd accept it if it came from the doctor.

“She’ll believe it if you say it… Just have the medicine on standby. Also, what do we do to help her? What’s next?” He asked.

“Well like I said her bleeding was extensive... I want to keep her for at least a full 24 hours, in case the bleeding starts again. I’ll also arrange for her to meet with the OBGYN during that time as well, to make sure we got all of the tissue out, that way there’s no chance of another hemorrhage or infection. Sounds like a plan?” The doctor asked.

“Yes… thank you." Bin took a deep breath before he went in, the doctor trailing behind him.

The doctor closed the sliding door as Bin looked at you, then at Han briefly. He lowered the guardrail and made eye contact with Han, who mirrored his actions shortly after.

“Mrs. Y/L/N” the doctor began but you cut him off.

“My baby. Please tell me my baby’s okay… please,” the urgency written on your face.

Han's eyes were set on Changbin. The minute you asked that question, Bin lowered his head, jaw tight, and tears were already beginning to form. When Bin looked at Han, he already knew.

The doctor looked at you and said “I...I’m so sorry.”

Your face showed nothing but confusion… you had just gotten the first ultrasound. You had it done a week ago. No, you saw your baby.

“Y/N” Bin asked gently. He saw the look on your face, and it killed him. Seeing your brain reach for any other outcome other than the one right in your face. He tucked some stray strands of hair behind your ear as he watched and waited for the understanding to reach your face, it didn’t.

“No, it can’t be, I just got the ultrasound done. No,” you replied.

Han and Bin looked at each other. Han's eyebrows dipped, as he processed and tried to brace for impact. Bin on the other hand, was willing himself to take a step back, knowing that you needed to hear this. It had to get through, that's the only way you could start healing.

The doctor looked solemn as he said, “Mrs. Y/L/N I could tell that you were and still are contracting. The reason why your body is doing it, from what I can discern, is because your body went through extreme stress and emotional trauma, when that happens this early, your body rejects the pregnancy. That does not mean that this is your fault, it's the opposite. It’s completely out of your control.”

Bin could see the cogs turning in your brain as you slowly started shaking your head. Reality starting to seep in. Bin wished that you didn't have to go through this. That you got the fairytale ending without the heartbreak. That you didn't have to face the death of your own child. That pain, anguish, and suffering.

The doctor continued, “There is an even rarer condition in which the body rejecting the pregnancy ends in a condition called a hemorrhage. It’s a technical term for excessive bleeding, in this case, it happened because your body is trying to expel the tissues in your cervix. Because it was so sudden, your cervix didn’t have time to open. When I examined you, you weren’t even at half a centimeter dilation, and all of that tissue was trying to be expelled. That was why I had to do that procedure, to get the tissue out so bleeding could be minimized. I’m so sorry… but you had a miscarriage.”

Once that word was said the scream that you let out was something that Han nor Bin have ever heard in their lives. It was soul-crushing. Both of them could hear your heart breaking, shattered on the ground. Bin and Han wanted nothing more than to pick up those pieces and fix it. They knew that they couldn't, this is a hurt they can't fix.

Han held you as you screamed, begged, pleaded… You looked at Bin. “Bin please, look at me. Please tell me it's not true… Please you don’t lie to me, I know you'll tell the truth pleeease.”

Bin looked at you, “I can’t tell you it’s not true. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The look of devastation on his face only sealed the fact. Bin has never lied to you so why would he start now? Especially with something as serious as whether or not you had a miscarriage.

The look that painted his face, brows upturned as his eye contact was nothing short of empathetic. You could tell he wanted to lie.

He wanted it to be false, that it was just some freak minor bleeding… that the baby was okay…he wanted it so badly… but you can't want something into existence.

That realization hit you in a split second as the monitors that were connected to you, measuring vitals, started going off. You could feel nothing but pain. The involuntary gnawing, pulling pain. The blood, the cold from lack of blood in your body…The physical agony was nothing compared to what you felt in that split second.

Your heart rate was literally too fast for you to register, pain surging through you as comprehension slammed into you like a tsunami. The baby is gone. Your baby. Your heart rate was through the roof and the doctor went to your IV.

“Y/N I’m going to give you something to calm you down okay? Your heart can’t take this stress, it’ll give out.” The doctor pushed the medication.

“I want my baby…Bin I want my baby… Han please, my baby.” You sobbed as you held on to Han.

All Bin could do was say, “I know you do, I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Han got on the gurney with you and cradled you. He cried with you. Prayed that it was just a nightmare. Han looked to Bin, only to find him trying to fight the tears that were falling down his face. Bin's soul was hurting for you, bargaining with whatever powers out there, to give himself up for you and your child. He knew it was irrational but if he could've, he would've.

As soon as the medicine kicked in your breathing started to slow. You still whimpered and cringed as you felt your body bearing down, still shaking slightly and cold to the touch. Han draped his jacket over you, resting you against his chest, singing to you, to calm you.

Every once in a while reality would crash into you again, you’d reach for Bin. You knew why you did, he was always there. He always understood you on a deeper level. Sometimes he knew what you needed when you didn’t even know you needed it.

Eventually he pulled up a chair and laid his head on his forearm, hand in yours and close to his lips. as he gently rubbed circles into your hand with his thumb. As soon as you’d squeeze that hand he’d squeeze back as he nuzzled into your hand. His way of letting you know that yes, this is the reality, but he is still here. Wordlessly, endlessly, he’d be here. Sometimes you’d comb your fingers through his hair, the feeling somewhat comforting.

You were so tired it went down to your bones. Sometimes only mustering a long blink at the pain. Eventually your vitals started looking good enough to transport.

The doctor came in with solemn reverence, like he was intruding on a funeral.“Y/N, we’re going to keep you overnight at the least, you’re going to have a visit from the OBGYN in the morning, okay? We have your bed ready so soon someone’s going to come to transport you.”

You just looked up at the doctor and nodded, “T-thank you” you hiccupped, “Hannie and Binnie are staying with me.”

“I’ve already put a cot in the room for them. I wish I could’ve done more,” he said with a sad smile. Bin got up and shook his hand, thanking him.

As soon as the transport nurses came to get you Bin said “I’ll see you in a bit. I just need to do something really quick.” you nodded and Bin kissed your forehead. He had to go back to the house. He didn’t know why immediately, just that he had to.

He was on autopilot the entire ride to the house, except for the red lights. He didn’t need to be strong at those lights. He’d scream where no one could hear him. Letting the pain out as images of you flashed. Smiling, then flashing to the scream you let out. Laughing, then sobbing in that hospital gurney. Cooking with him, to crying on Han.

His screams were from mourning, pain, and frustration. He mourned the baby and you. The pain for you, the pain of realizing all of the things that you won’t experience. The frustration of not being able to see it before. To protect you, guard you. He wanted to rip something… someone… apart. There. That was the impulse that drove him back to the house.

At the last red light, he breathed deep, not even wanting to. He used whatever force that was left over as he screamed one last time. Everything he did, your child would never experience. Every scream echoed, redoubling the anguish he had for the both of you. Culminating into this, silence as he turned the corner to the house.

To his surprise, all of the other member’s cars were still at the house when he pulled up. When he parked, he looked at the clock on his dashboard, it was 2 a.m. Had it been 6 hours already?

He felt his adrenaline kick up as he opened the door. He found everyone still wide awake, waiting for answers, but one look at Bin and they gathered what they needed.

Chan walked into the room from the kitchen and his jaw dropped upon seeing him.

“Bin…what happened?” Felix asked gently, hand’s slightly raised, as if approaching a wild animal. The aura on Bin wasn’t his aloof, goofy, self, it was the opposite; dark, threatening, dangerous. Bin’s eyes were trained on Chan, the closer he got, the more Bin felt his resolve slipping… Chan looked at him up and down, concern and horror written on his face. It was only then that Bin noticed he was covered in your blood.

His resolved snapped at that realization, upper lip ticking into a repressed snarl as he breathed “I’m… going to kill you.” He made a B-line to Chan. Felix, Minho, and Jeongin had to hold him back.

Once Bin realized he couldn’t get to Chan, he screamed, “Was it worth it?! HUH?!!” His veins were popping out under his skin as he struggled to get free, “Was it?! Tell me! You hurt and nearly killed the only person I’ve ever loved. She’s dead inside now, all thanks to you!” More flashes accompanied that sentence, him picking you up and watching you go limp, eyes fluttering.

Felix looked at Bin and said, “What?... Hyung..” Felix's voice trailed off, trying to process what he heard. Felix knew that if he heard Bin correctly…he couldn’t even complete that thought.

Bin’s eyes snapped to Felix and he relaxed to the point where all three let go.

“The doctor said that because of the severe stress and emotional trauma she endured her body rejected the pregnancy.” He bum-rushed Chan and slammed him against the wall, while everyone was either in shock or processing. Felix was the first and only one to try to get Bin off Chan. Changbin was just too strong for the younger man, he ignored Felix as he tried wordlessly to pry Bin away from Chan.

Bin continued staring into Chan's eyes, “The miscarriage was so sudden, in fact, that she hemorrhaged and almost bled to death because her cervix couldn’t open on its own in time. They had to scrape the tissue out just to stop it from killing her! And she looked at me to see if it was really true because I don’t LIE to her. Then they had to sedate her because her heart was going to give out when she realized that it was true.”

At this point Bin tightened his grip on Chan, “You are lucky that she asked for me to stay with her… If not I would kill you, right here. You are going to stay AWAY until or even IF she ever wants to see you again. I mean it Chan, if you come near her, I will end you. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” With that, he dropped Chan and went to the washroom. He washed off as much blood as he could and went to his room to change into spare clothes. He wanted to destroy everything in his room. His keepsakes, his picture frames of the boys all together. There was only one picture frame that he did smash to dust before he left his room… the one of himself and Chan, on Chan’s wedding day. He picked up his bloody clothes, stalked back out to Chan, and threw the clothing at him.

He was shaking with rage as he said, “To YOU… this could’ve been a game or a thrill, fucking with her heart. But THAT!” he pointed to the clothing, “that is the reality. A child is dead, your child and it almost killed Y/N too. Next time you want to contact her, look at what you did to both of them while you do it.”

Before Chan could say anything Bin was slamming the door shut behind him with such force that the wall itself vibrated. Right as he made it to his car Felix ran to him. “Can I go with you?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving the hospital for the whole night, you know that, right?”

Felix nodded and got into the passenger seat. The whole ride over Felix couldn’t help but to stare at Bin. He has never seen him like this. So enraged that he was three seconds away from crushing Chris’ windpipe.

He also noted how Bin didn’t seem to know that he was covered in blood until Chris looked at him. Even now he could see Bin’s grip on the steering wheel was so strong his knuckles were white. He didn’t know exactly what happened in those four hours they weren’t given updates, and Felix knows just by seeing Bin, he never wants to find out.

As soon as Bin entered your hospital room he heard you say “Binnie?”

Honestly, he could melt every time you call him that.

“I’m back…” he chuckled slightly… “And I brought some sunshine with me…”

The minute he looked into your eyes, you smiled just a little. That was progress. He kissed your forehead as Felix looked you over.

Felix is like your little brother, so the minute you saw him and he saw you, you both started crying. Han got off the bed knowing Lix would want to be with you for a bit, for both of your sakes.

This gave Han and Bin time to talk out in the hall.

“How’re her contractions?” Bin asked.

“They’re slower but still strong. The doctor says that it’ll be strong for at least 5 to 10 hours.” Han reported.

“And you? How’re you doing?” Bin asked. He knows Han has anxiety, seeing all of this and being as strong as he’s been is not easy.

“I’m… Out of all people, Bin.” Han shook his head. Han has known Chan the longest and he would’ve never expected him to do this.

“I know”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him.” Han said.

“Nah… She needs me more than I need to beat him to a pulp… I don’t think he’ll be bothering her anymore though.” That’s at least what Bin hopes. Everything is so raw. A little over 8 hours before this you were at a restaurant to celebrate your 3rd anniversary. Now everything was all wrong, a nightmare incarnate and no one can wake up from reality.

“Hyung… She can’t go back to that house.” Han said as he took a deep breath.

“I know. All I know is that we'll do what she’s comfortable with.”

“Agreed…Bin?” Han asked.

“Yeah?”

“It should’ve been you with her. From the beginning.” Han looked to Bin, a look of understanding and empathy for Bin. Han could always see the way Bin looked at you when no one else was looking. Everything you said would be committed to his memory, even the smallest things like which brand of sesame oil you like best for your bulgogi marinade.

“I know. That doesn’t mean that I can’t be here for her from now on.”

Han just smiled and both of them went back into the room.

********************************************************************

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shenachigans · 8 months

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LETTER | Signora/Rosalyne

PAIRING: Signora/Rosalyne x Gn!Fatuus!Reader

CW: angst no comfort, character d3aths (two people are implied to pass away), toxic relationship, reader and Signora are only flings, mentions of su!cide, mentions of smut but not explicitly, Scaramouch makes an appearance.

SUMMARY: You were nothing but a fleeting moment in the Fair Lady’s life, but a single letter caused a permanent scar in her heart, far worse than what Rostam left her.

A/N: Ask me why I rewrote a fanfic from 2021 in 2023. It’s because I needed to get out of this damn thing called writer’s block <3 This original fanfic was inspired by a convo I had with Kuro about Signora’s death… :( It’s gender neutral but it was written with a female reader in mind. Her Majesty refers to the Tsaritsa and Rostam is Signora’s late lover btw.

WORDS: 2,413

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

Signora… Rosalyne, rather, is a woman who harbors negative emotions. Rostam’s death brought her so much grief, turning her into the misunderstood Crimson Witch. Love rendered Rosalyne miserable, and the burning fire in her heart was too powerful to extinguish.

It was because of the Tsaritsa that made her who she is today, a cold Harbinger named Signora, the Fair Lady. She devoted herself to the Cyro Archon for vengeance so that she may let her lover rest once and for all. Everything she does is to honor him, and she will continue to do so until she meets him again.

The power of liquid fire gave Signora a longer lifespan. It was useful for revenge, but it was dreadful when she longed for her lover. They have been apart for so many centuries. But amid her life, someone caught her attention.

You were but a simple Fatuus messenger who served the Sixth Harbinger Balladeer. It was rare for Harbingers to cross paths with one another, much less their servants, but Signora saw you — far more than she could remember.

She observed you from afar out of pure interest. Perhaps she was bored. Perhaps she found you suspicious, for you were too naive and pure to work for an organization like this. But you were skilled in your field. Your talent juxtaposed your looks, she admits. And so she asked the Tsaritsa to place you in her division, deeming you would be more fit under her wing.

The Fair Lady wanted to keep you.

The reason: unknown.

The ambiguity of why Signora took you in soon disappeared. She found herself seeing a part of Rostam in your nature. It was more apparent when she learned of your feelings toward her. Just like Rostam, she would say, of course, not in your presence. She became infatuated with you over time. It wasn’t the same infatuation as your previous lovers, but you welcomed her with open arms.

How could you deny the woman, who was clearly out of your league?

When Inazuma closed its borders, your relationship as lovers became official, albeit a secret from the others, though everyone can sense a rather unusual intimate atmosphere between you two.

You two weren’t like others, not because you were in a relationship with your superior, but because she was indifferent and sought your affection, not you. It may be because of her past — that you didn’t know of — but you pushed the heavy feelings aside as you were grateful to have the privilege to call Signora yours.

You did everything you could to make her feel loved, and Signora felt like her old self, the young maiden from Mondstadt, Rosalyne: the young woman who was in love with a knight named Rostam. But your time together was fleeting.

The demise of your relationship started when she was assigned to collect the Gnoses per the Tsaritsa’s command. You two became equally busy. Signora became more distant and tense, too focused on the mission as if she had been waiting for this moment. She has, but you didn’t know why.

Other Fatuus turned their backs on you upon learning your relationship with the Harbinger. It was understandable, but you didn’t receive special treatment. You worked harder than everyone else, and Signora was harsher toward you, pinning every mistake your peers committed.

Thoughts filled your head, wondering if your relationship with Signora was normal for lovers. All she does is take, take, and take, but not once has she given you the same affection. You tried to understand her, but you were hurting yourself. Even so, you still loved her, because love comes with pain, does it not? Surely, this is only a bumpy road in your relationship.

You were wrong. You knew your relationship was over when Signora requested Her Majesty to place you back in Balladeer’s unit. She didn’t say anything, but her actions told you of her intentions. It hurt how cold she was to you that day as if you weren’t the person she shared her bed with, entangled in each other’s bodies. She acted like your time together meant nothing to her.

As you readjusted to being under Balladeer’s command, not once have you seen Signora. You knew she didn’t want to see you anymore, but your heart did not waver, rather, your heart ached from not seeing her. You were holding onto false hope — hoping she was only distant to remain professional, but you knew she was too busy, or did not bother, to officialize your parting.

Everything you did was for her, just as everything Signora did was for Rostam. You realized you knew nothing of her past, save for having a lover. You did not know him, what their story was, and how they parted. But you saw longing and love in Signora’s eyes.

There were times when Signora looked at you with an unrecognizable gaze. Only now did you learn what it was. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing you were just someone to fill the hole in her heart, the hole Rostam left. She didn’t love you like you loved her. It hurt so much. But you were meant to be utilized, for you were a tool. A tool has various purposes. Signora merely took advantage of your love to fulfill her needs.

It was hard to accept, but you tried to, for this was reality. After all, the Fair Lady gave you, a mere Fatuus, an opportunity to become part of her private life. A Harbinger cannot be romantically involved with an underling. Although you can no longer call her yours, it was a privilege you had, and you will forever cherish your time together, because everything you do is for her, regardless of what she saw you as. You were only flings, but your feelings for her will remain eternal.

You just hope she will remember you, even when you no longer live…

“What uselessness. Your lover, rather, ex-lover, tried to attack the blonde due to some personal grudge. My plans would’ve gone smoothly if not for their interruption,” Scaramouche grumbled, crossing his arms with a petty scoff. “It wasn’t even a big injury; they bled to death. Her Majesty would’ve had them disposed of were they to survive anyway.”

Signora was too engrossed in your state to process his words as horrified eyes gazed at your lifeless body before her. Cuts and bruises decorated your skin, and the shine in your eyes was now dull. She had realized you were dead. But somehow, you looked more at peace, as though she could see you smiling at her with glimmering eyes. She felt her heart sink from the thought.

“I could’ve left them where they were, so you owe me, Signora. Alas, you better not linger for too long, you have yet to meet the Shogun,” are the words the puppet told her before swinging the sliding the shoji doors and disappearing to who-knows-where.

It was a déjà vu, a familiar feeling, yet it was different. Signora’s feelings didn’t make sense. You were nothing but a fleeting moment in her life, but the impact you had on her was great. You passed away fighting someone, like Rostam when he fought in the war and lost his life. Only this time, there was a corpse presented before her.

Signora didn’t know how long she towered over your body and bore into your soulless eyes, but it must’ve been a while for salty tears pooled on the bloody tatami mat. And so she fell on her knees as her sobs grew louder. Trembling fingers carefully mounted your head on her chest, cradling you like a newborn child. The growing pool of blood tainted everything around you, including Signora’s precious dress.

Your body was losing warmth each second, and she was desperately holding onto everything that was left. Signora received everything you had. She wishes you keep your warmth. You can’t throw it away like some fool, but she knew it was too late. Your fingertips were as cold as her delusion’s powers.

The last time she cried, tears of amber rolled down her cheeks, turning her into the Crimson Witch as liquid fire consumed her. But here she was, weeping salty tears like a human being. Does a part of her humanity still linger within her? Was this your doing? It was a bittersweet feeling, she admits. But she remembers you’re no longer with her. Your bright soul is gone because of her.

“You fool! I… I couldn’t even say goodbye…”

The woman you gave your heart to let her walls down as she grieved, her heart tightening from the pain.

But didn’t she use you? Why would she grieve for a pawn she used? She couldn’t possibly have the right to mourn for you when your death is the consequence of her actions, her indifference.

Signora hugs you close as she rocks on her knees like a mother hushing her crying child. But she was crying, and you were hushed, still and cold, stinging her skin. Only your blood remained warm, but it was soon drying up, becoming as cold as you, further bringing pain to her heart.

Is this Celestia’s punishment for going against the heavenly principles? Must her life be full of woe?

Signora’s sobs resonated around the room, grief apparent in her cries, hugging you tighter and tighter, refusing to let you go until her fingers brushed against a tattered letter from your coat’s pocket. Tears soaked her attire to clear her vision and grab the letter.

Her stomach churned as she saw to whom it was for. It was for her.

Dear Signora,

I never got to know your real name, My Lady. I didn’t want to pry by asking, but your name must be beautiful. It’s a shame, really. I would’ve loved for your name to fall from my lips. It would’ve been intimate of us, don’t you think? Alas, we weren’t meant to be. I understand you have your reasons for being distant and for using me. It was painful — for the woman I love does not reciprocate my feelings — but I hold no grudge, nor regret giving my life to you. I’m honored to have been able to give you my love. I will forever cherish the fleeting moments we shared.

I’m writing you this letter to officialize the goodbye we never had. The moment I was brought back to my unit, I knew we were over, but I hoped you would come back for me. It was a foolish thought, I know, but it’s funny now that I think about it. I really am in love. And I keep hoping for something impossible because my feelings are strong for you, My Lady. Please don’t feel burdened. I say this because, as much as you try to hide it, and it may be presumptuous of me, but you care. You may not love me, but I can feel your caringness toward me. I’m grateful. I truly am.

Now, if ever you read this letter, it means I’m no longer alive. I made sure of it. It would be a miracle if you even found this letter. Please don’t misunderstand the situation. I wavered a duel with the traveler for a reason. Even if I came back unscathed, which would be another miracle, my life would be terminated by Her Majesty for my disobedience. I don’t dare to take my own life. Frankly, I wish to say I’m tired, My Lady. I simply do not find joy in being alive anymore and wish to rest. I’ve been planning for this moment for a long time, even before I met you, so please don’t blame yourself for my death. I admire how you still have that will within you. The reason must be to avenge someone you loved, no? I apologize for doing some background work on your history, albeit not finding much, but I wanted to know more about you.

I hope you succeed, My Lady. I wish for you to lay off your burdens and find peace. I want to thank you for making my life bloom with color before I left. Therefore, I have no regrets in life. Although without your permission, allow me to say I love you. I may have never said these words in front of you, and have been contemplating whether or not to say them, but I was too late to decide. Thus, I end my letter with my declaration of love and parting.

I love you so much, My Fair Lady.

— Your former Fatuus underling.

The letter fell from her grasp as she drowned in grief, the ink drowning in her tears, rendering the paragraphs illegible. Was she so distant that you dared not sign your letter intimately? You even addressed her formally, as if it was a report. Why did you stay with someone like her? She knew why, but she refused to acknowledge it. You loved her so much that you put yourself and your pain aside to please her and let yourself get used.

Signora cups your face, gently pressing her warm lips against your forehead, your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, until your cold lips meet with hers. How your lips cuddled against hers, oh so perfectly. Only now did she realize how warm your kisses were, how you would smile and blush, even if it was a quick peck. Those kisses were your kisses, they weren’t Rostam’s.

She was responsible for your death, Signora assures. You may have been planning it for a long time, but her ignorance caused the last blow. Had she not exploited you, you might've still been breathing, and happy with someone who deserves you, someone who would devote their life to you, someone who would love you as you loved her. You were the flower she poisoned and left to wither due to her actions…

Signora truly did not deserve someone like you.

“My name is Rosalyne. Please say it, my name. Please speak, please…”

A blood-chilling cry of grief filled the room when you remained silent, unable to utter the name you yearned to say. You were gone, truly gone. She killed you.

Rosalyne didn’t choose you because you were an image of Rostam. She chose you because you made her feel human. But she was blinded, not realizing the truth behind her emotions.

“Rosalyne!”

It wasn’t you; it was Rostam.

A/N: For those confused with the ending, Signora follows canon events, which means she's...

#la signora #signora angst #fatui signora #genshin signora #signora x reader #genshin impact signora #la signora angst #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact drabbles #fem reader #genshin impact smut #gender neutral reader

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sunnybunnyy2 · 6 months

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Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan Smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

TIME: season 7

Warnings: imprisonment, talk of rapists(briefly), talk of murder, mentions of Abe’s and Glenn’s deaths, arguments, mentions of saviours, mentions of what transpired in season six and seven, spoiler warning and bad writing.

CHAPTER 2 of the Dark Cell series

Series Masterlist Official Masterlist

This is long awaited! I'm sorry that this has taken so long but I have been making fanfics on Wattpad recently and if you are a fellow fanfic writer you understand how much unnecessary time it takes to come up with ideas and lines to make your character come to life. Thank you all for being so patient with me! Also, requests are open, and I will be redoing my master list, so look out for that. I have been influenced so yes, this is going to become a series so stay tuned! Now that I finished this part I have more motivation to actually write for this! I’d you want to be tagged in the series let me know! Thank you so much for reading<3

(if there is third person slip ups I’m sorry, I’m just so used to writing in third person :( )

The exchanges took place every night at around 1 a.m., and it had for the past seven days.

You would arrive carrying a plate or bowl of whatever leftover food you had managed to swipe from the kitchen or some dinner from the meals you would share with Negan.

You had aimed to make the food before you went down so that it was still hot but it was risky as, there was a large chance that one of Negan's men would notice and alert your father, which would raise suspicion.

The food consisted of Sandwiches, chicken, pasta, fish, soup and wraps.

You wished you could do it more often, but you knew that it would largely increase the chances of you getting caught.

You knew your punishment wouldn't be anywhere near how severe Daryl's would be. You also knew that as much as you pleaded your father would allow his pawns to have their fun in harming the long-haired man. You weren't quite sure why your father's men were so willing to starve and beat a man senseless to appear strong. Men and their egos you supposed.

Your father could preach all he wanted about how he would do anything for his daughter, how he would move mountains to appease you. How he would kill anyone who dared to disrespect you (he had) but yet he couldn't try and be a better man. He couldn't put his rage and grieve the wicked world had caused him and help people instead of torturing broken people and turning people who wanted to survive into heartless killers. Turn them into him.

You couldn't say you hated your father. You never could. But that certainly didn't mean you agreed with half the things he did.

You could tell he cared what you thought of him. You were the last thing he had of your mother, but that didn't mean he listened to you when you expressed your opinion.

You and your father were close before all of this happened, well before you found out about his affair. After that day you hated everything about him. Even when your mother got sick and he stood by her, did everything for her. You weren't sure if it was because of how guilty he felt for betraying her or because he loved her.

Normally you would insist on it being the first but now she was at a loss.

Since your mother's demise, your once childish but thoughtful father had turned into a power-hungry greedy man. At first you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was grieving and was trying to find a way to cope with the loss of the woman he loved but it was as though he was forgetting that his daughter had lost her mother.

He wanted to make you happy, so he gifted you the biggest room in the sanctuary and allowed you to purchase whatever you desired without working, though you often helped with the growing crops in the back of the sanctuary. Your father never really liked the idea of her around the fence but he backed down after a heated argument between you. He did send some of his men to keep an eye on you, he tried to be discreet but his men were less than.

You always made sure to bring a large glass of tap water from your room down to his cell, wanting to at least make sure he didn't die of dehydration.

You knew that his physical health wasn't as bad as it was before but you knew that his mental health was still declining. He had been locked in the tiny cell for weeks on end, the only sound filling his ears was the constant lyrics of the song 'East Street'.

The bags under his eyes were proof enough of the lack of sleep he had been receiving. The way his eyes could barely focus on one thing when you would bring him his meals was another important factor in your conclusion.

Since your visits had become more frequent he had uttered his name quietly into the comfortable silence that had filled the cell as he hastily inhaled what was in front of him. It was so quiet that you had barely heard him, but once you realized that it wasn't your imagination you smiled softly to yourself before muttering your name as well.

In your mind, you were friends. You knew his name, he knew yours, you would bring him food, he would be thankful and you were both the highlight of each other's day.

Daryl- because he wasn't rapidly dropping weight as he had been before from his lack of food, which in turn kept his brain running so he could coax his thoughts into coming up with a plan to escape his captivity. Plus your company wasn't so bad he reckoned.

You- because you got to meet another survivor from a rivalling group, you had heard your father angrily ranting to his soldiers about how this mysterious group had taken out one of his many posts and killed everyone in it.

You were shocked at how brutal this group could be but you knew that your father could be even more heartless and it was proven when a week later whispers were passed along through the sanctuary that your father had partaken in another one of his lineups and had bashed in two members of Daryl's groups heads in with Lucille.

You knew that Daryl's group had killed countless people, saviours but at least their families and friends didn't have to see it, as apparently the people from the outpost were killed while they slept. It was a very cowardly way to kill but it was better in a way, they didn't see it coming.

You clutched the tray of food which consisted of a slice of ham from a pig the saviours had recently slaughtered as a way to celebrate the new community they had under their control, standing with the other few that they had taken over. With a side of carrots that you had picked herself to give him some energy.

Then finally a generous helping of mashed potatoes to fill him up, as you knew that a small sandwich was going to get him through the day. Well, you guessed it was two, as Dwight had made sure to feed him a dog food sandwich every other day to keep him going. A dark pork gravy from the brand Bisto (clubhouse is better but whatever) that was covering a large portion of the potatoes. Your father did always say that you made it taste even better when you made it.

Your eyes peeked around the sharp corner to make sure Arat was on her way to her break that she always made sure to hide, always quick on her feet to head to her room to get several strong minutes of shut-eye.

Your eyes caught sight of Arat quietly creeping her way further and further away from Daryl's new home. You waited a couple of minutes until you were sure she was in her room, possibly already captivated by sleep. You placed one foot in front of the other as you too, crept down the hallway, the fear of getting caught burning fear into her veins.

You balanced the tray on one hand as you reached into your left pocket, to pull out the cell key that you had stolen from Laura, well it wasn't quite stealing, she had dropped it and hadn't even noticed. You could still remember her confused face when she caught you on the ground after catching you mid-grab. You smiled at her and played it off as if you were tying your shoe, which she bought as she shot you a smile and continued on with her ranting.

You turned the key clockwise into the rusting metal, smiling in satisfaction when the lock clicked quietly as a sign that it was now unlocked.

The creak that was loudly pulled from the door as it was opened left you cringing as you quickly shuffled into the room, closing the door until there was only a fragment of it for a little bit of light but it wasn't large enough to draw suspicion towards your meetings.

You could already see Daryl gazing up at you as you pulled the door closed, before lowering yourself to the floor, holding your hands out as a sign for him to take the plate which he did. He had loosened up a large amount since you had started being him food a week ago.

He was still stand-offish and didn't like to talk about his group which you didn't blame him for, you were with the enemy, you were his daughter. You weren't sure if he knew of your status at the sanctuary but if he did, it didn't come from you. It had already taken a great amount of effort to gain his trust and you wouldn't want it broken just because of who your father was.

If he brought it up, you would talk to him about it, but for now, you didn't want to risk losing one of the only people that didn't just suck up to you because they wanted more points or because they were scared to face your father's wrath if they hurt your feelings.

"Hey, sorry I was late, Arat took longer than usual to hit the deck." You quickly explained as expected the food in a curious glint in his eyes. "It's ham. Sorry, I didn't know if you liked it but they just killed a pig and me and my-... I had some for dinner earlier, it was good... and there's potatoes obviously, there's some cheese in them too with carrots and gravy." His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in question just as he had been since you had almost slipped up. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned well... at least I hope it isn't because I ate the same thing but I guess we'll find out."

He let a harsh breath out of his nose that sounded similar to a laugh before he picked up the metal fork before shoving a large bite of potatoes in his mouth, a barely audible groan fell from his lips as he continued to inhale the food, not even bothering to use the knife that you had brought to cut the meat, opting to just pick it up with his hands.

If it was anyone else you would find the wild eating disgusting, but you understood. He was being starved as a torture method to force him into submission. You had seen this countless times, but nearly all had caved within the first few days. It was shocking to you how strong he was. If it had been you... you weren't sure how long you could last if you were in the same position.

From how wild he was eating you could only assume today wasn't the day he got fed from Dwight.

You assumed you did well with the amount of food you had given him.

You kept your eyes trained on the opened part of the door to make sure the coast was clear still. Normally this side of the sanctuary was almost always deserted, but since Daryl as been held here, you had noticed a lot of working people wanted to catch a glimpse of one of the Alexandrians who had killed numerous soldiers. You weren't sure if was from fear or awe.

"Why are you doing this." He asked as he looked up from his half-eaten plate of food, to examine you while you spoke as if to see if you would lie to him.

"I don't like how he's handing this. I mean... what your group did was wrong. Really wrong. But what he's doing to you isn't right. No one should have to deal with this. I mean other than rapists, pedophiles, or child killers. I mean murder is really bad but there are some ways to excuse it, like self-defence but I mean the worlds over. People kill each other every day to survive. Don't make it right but it makes sense. You did what you thought you had to, to 'save' your group." You ranted slightly as you looked down.

"So you're doing this because I deserve better?" Daryl asked with a quiet snort as though he couldn't fathom the thought of someone actually thinking he was a decent guy.

"Everyone deserves better in some way. But no, some people just need a little help sometimes. You do, so I'm trying to help you." You said as watched him proceed with eating.

He looked up at you after he took yet another bite of his food. "I ain't need no help." He dismissed with a huff as he finished the last of his food.

"Obviously you do. Everybody does. You're no exception." You disagreed as he watched for any signs of Arat possibly returning earlier than usual.

"So why ya helping me? I'm sure the big man has more bitchs." He all but growled as he thought about your father causing your face to drop slightly as he kept your eyes away from him, in hopes of him not being able to see your full life story from just the shine in your eyes. Daryl looked like the type to be able to, you thought.

"He has some other... people in cells-" You were cut off by Daryl as he let out a dangerous scoff that should have had you scared. You were in a closed space with someone who wanted your father dead, I mean sure he didn't know that you and the man he hated most shared the same blood but it didn't matter. You were a Smith and that would never change. No matter how much you hoped and prayed that your father would suddenly turn a new leaf, it never seemed to happen. So at some point, you just saved your previously wasted breath.

"Ya mean prisoners?" He spoke sharply, his words not a question but a statement, showcasing how enraged he truly was with her father.

"Yeah...prisoners. There is some down here, yes. But they deserve it." You said while shaking your head as you thought about the awful people that were locked down here.

"Ain't nobody deserve this shit." He said with his whole chest as his eyes scanned your face with a mixture of hate and disgust at your words. You couldn't blame him though, he was locked in a cell and you had just said that the people locked in them deserved it.

"They're awful people. Rapists, child killers, people who kill without reason-"

"I ain't no rapist and I ain't no child killers. Me and my people had every righ-"

"Nobody has a right to take someone's life. Who made us god? When did we get to choose who got to live and who got to die?" You argued as you furrowed your brows at the man's words.

"How bout' ya tell yer buddy that? He killed my friends." He raised his voice louder than necessary which earned him a dirty look from you as you peeked out of the sliver of the door that shined light into the cell and once you were sure no one was coming with guns raised you turned back to face him.

"You killed dozens of his men while they were sleeping. You do realize that, right? I'm not saying what he did was right either, but you're lucky he didn't kill more of your people." You ranted slightly as you looked at him in confusion, he was so stuck in his own misery that he wasn't thinking about how other people were affected by his and his group's actions.

"Lucky? He bashed my friend's heads in." He said angrily but it was quiet. As if trying to scare you into submission but you didn't back down.

"And I'm sorry for your friends. I really am. But you couldn't have thought that your group could get away with slaughtering- and it was a slaughtering, his men and get away scot-free. You killed his soldiers. He takes that shit as a personal attack. So when I say I'm surprised he didn't kill more of you I mean it."

"One of my friends' wives was pregnant' ya think she deserved ta see that? Now tha' kid's gonna grow up without a father."

"Of course not. That's awful and I'm so sorry...but some of the men and women you slaughtered had kids. Wives. Parents. They had people who loved them too. One of the men, Mike, had a pregnant wife at one of the other outposts. She was eight months and gave birth to her baby girl two days after he died. Alone. And a woman, Mel, just got married to the man she loved, they were trying for a baby... He killed himself last week. Hung himself in his room all alone." You paused for a moment to see if he was going to speak up but when he didn't, you continued.

"An-and a woman named Willow had a baby at another outpost. Now that baby has to grow up without a mother. Another man named Carlos was an only child and had to work for points to provide for his parents. They're old and can't do it themselves. Now they're barely eating and are so depressed that their health is deteriorating, we're not sure how long they have left. So I'm sorry that your friends lost people they cared about but you didn't just get your group hurt with your guy's actions. You guys ruined so many lives that night."

You finished your rant as you shook your head, looking up at him only to see him looking down at his hands, his overgrown hair hung low to cover his eyes, masking his true reaction.

"I'm not trying to say that your friends' deaths don't matter but you can't just go around acting like you didn't kill people either. Like everyone else's pain doesn't matter to not feel guilty. But it does." You said quietly before deciding you had spent long enough in the stuffy cell. You reached over, grabbing the plate from in front of him before pulling yourself to your feet. You waited for him to speak again but he didn't bother and once you turned around he noticed that he hadn't moved from his place.

"Good night." You shook your head before he pulled the creaky door open a little more so the gap was large enough to fit your body through, closing it until you felt the metal clank quietly against metal.

You pulled out the key and shoved it into the lock, twisting it quickly before you heard quiet footsteps walking down the hallway from where Arat had left from. It seemed like you had left at the perfect time, you supposed.

You quietly but hastily quickened your pace until you were at the same corner you had looked over from around fifteen minutes prior.

You watched as Arat ran a hand over her short black and bleached blonde hair as she let out a yawn, swaying on her feet slightly from the over-tiredness she was experiencing, which was probably in full swing by the shortness of her sleep.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief before you quietly made your way in the direction of her room, the plate held tightly in your grasp as you walked past the mostly deserted sanctuary, sending a small smile to some of the saviours on watch duty. Most sent one back your way, while others seemed annoyed at the fact that they had duty at all, leaving them too aggravated to bother.

You were about to turn the handle of your door when you heard a voice stop you.

"Baby? What are you doin' up? It's late." Your father's voice stopped you in your tracks. A part of you wanted to run into your room and pretend that you had been sleepwalking but you knew your father knew you better than that and could almost always tell when you were fake sleeping. It was an odd talent if you were to be frank. So you turned around with a smile and spoke.

"I couldn't sleep. Decided to take a walk." You lied.

"With an empty plate of food?" He asked with raised eyebrows a sarcastic smirk on his face.

"...I got hungry on the way. Just heated up some leftovers from dinner. Didn't know that was a crime, Dad." You huffed in an attempt to sound believable.

"It's late. You could have woken me up. I would have walked with you." He said as he studied you.

"Seriously, dad? Literal armed guards are crawling the place. I think I'm okay walking to the kitchen. Plus you barely sleep as it is." You rolled your eyes at his mindset.

"I always have time for you, hunny... so who's the boy? Or girl. I don't discriminate. Hell, ya could be in love with a goddamn pumpkin and I would still approve. Maybe a little weirded out but hey, we all have our kinks." He smirked but his nose scrunched up slightly as he realized he was talking to his daughter and not one of his henchmen.

"Oh, wow, you figured it out. His name is Donteatmyseedsplease. I didn't want to keep it from you but I don't think you would approve. I'm so very glad I have your support, father dearest." You said in an overly happy voice even your eyes rolled with almost every word you spoke. You turned back to your door and turned ten knob, not going in as though to not give your father the opportunity to join you.

"You'll have to bring him over for dinner sometime we'll have squash."

"That wasn't funny Dad."

"Damn, you know how to wound a man's ego. Good girl, I taught you well." He said in a proud tone.

"I'm exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about something actually..." You spoke as you pushed your door open even wider than it had been and started to make her way into your large room.

"That's never good." He groaned before he leaned over to land a kiss atop your head. "I'll see you tomorrow, baby. I'm busy but I always have time for you." He pulled away and sent a smile your way which you returned before closing the door and leaning against it. A sigh of relief left your lips as you realized you were in the clear.

TAG LIST: @cult-of-norman @book-place @ilovespiderpeople @kazunish @mysouleaten

(let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for the future chapters!)

#the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x platonic!reader #negan smith x daughter!reader #The walking dead x platonic!reader #The walking dead xteen!reader #daryl dixon x reader #Dark cell series

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minimoxha · 10 months

Text

When will my life begin? (Tangled, Pt.2)

Summary: After his wife and daughter died he thought he lost everything. However, you for some reason, you’d didn’t disappear. So, Miguel locked you up. He had to find some way to protect you so you couldn’t be taken from him like Gabriella. What better way to do that then keep you in his dimension where he could get to you in case of anything

Warnings Low key bad parenting, Mother knows best lyrics, Cussing if you squint. Maybe bad Spanish, things I grew up listening to.

W/c

Series Masterlist

Even the way he spoke was cool.

Hobbie stood with a certain vibe to him that screamed confidence. As if he wasn’t afraid of anything and Was ready to do anything. More than that, he’d been outside. He was a teenager that had gotten to live through everything that she had been dreaming of all her life. And he looked so cool while doing it.

“Have you ever been to a party? Have you ever ridden a bike? What about the mall? Have you ever been there” She asked, intrigued and unknowingly stepping close to the boy who seemed to loose color every time he moved.

“Yes? That’s pretty common. Look, I need to get big boss man it’s an emergency.” He sighed, getting ready to leave the door. If he left, she’d loose her lady chance to see the world her last chance to get out and make a life thats fun for herself. She needed to see the fireworks.

“Hobbie have you ever seen the fireworks? The ones behind the big spider-man building?” She grabbed hobbies hand in which he reacted by pulling away, not to cause anger but to show uncomfort. He gave a nod before leaning on the counter next to him, disinterested. To him? The fireworks were a thing that happened every year, much to his demise. “Can you take me to them? I have never seen them up close. Please?”

Hobbie looked at the girl as if she was a random piece of goo on the ground. She couldn’t just go to the city and see them herself? Why did she need him? “They are there, go see them. Why do you need me?” Hobbie said, accent thick as ever while crossing his arms. The girl took notice of his wrist that was littered with bangles and bracelets. He truly was an interesting person, not line one she’s seen on her tv or laptop that’s for sure. He was special— He was different.

“My dad- your boss- he won’t let me out. I want to see the fireworks more than anything! Please, you have to take me to them I’ll do anything!” Y/n begged, grabbing onto his arm yet again to which hobie raised an eyebrow in wonder. If she was that hungry to go see stupid fireworks then how much more hasn’t she seen? “Will you take me?”

“I don’t have to take you anywhere, i don’t listen to orders. Though, I could take you to them just because I won’t follow miguel’s orders to leave you alone.” Hobbie thought for a second. This would make Miguel mad which he didn’t usually want to invoke but he didn’t mind seeing how red the man got when he lost his shit. Part of him also felt bad that she had been cooped up in this house for years without actually experiencing a life.

“I’ll take you then.”

The girl felt a smile rise on her face, bigger than she’s ever imagined. This could finally be the chance she has to get out and explore the world. Although, she couldn’t help but second guess herself as Hobie walked to the window before opening it for her.

“Are you coming?”

A/n: My work is kind of improving from my long ass year break from writing so bare with me. There will be more just let me know if you want to be tagged!! <3

Taglist:

@fairycorequeen @onyxstarhigh06

#fanfic #xreader #minimoxha #black!reader #hobie brown x reader #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse #spider man into the spider verse #astv x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x daughter! reader #anime #fanfiction #tangled #repunzel

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sunsents · 1 year

Text

Tonowari - Don't Be Shy, Sit (M)

Pure filth babes <3 I wrote this yesterday at midnight when I was between sleep and "should I just get up and hang out a lil"

read part 2 here (requested)

Summary —> Thigh sitting and reverse cowgirl with my favorite hunk of meat.

Pairing: tonowari x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: nudity/masturbating/edging/descriptions of body parts 😺/finger fucking/thigh humping/humping/kissing/almost sexual intercourse

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

vocabulary;

kelku - home

syulang - flower

tewng - loincloth

yawne - my love

mawey - calm

sevin - pretty/my pretty

The view that greets you when you enter the marui is sinful.

Tonowari's thick thighs are spread apart as he pumps his cock in languid strokes. You watch his body ripple, sweat beads dripping from his glistening forehead. His hair is wet, cascading down his shoulders beautifully. Holding a basketful of fruit, you struggle to keep them up. You waver in your step, breath hitching. He looks beautiful.

And his beauty was not for you, nor anyone who would enter his kelku.

However, it's welcoming - for you at least. His eyes are screwed shut as he humps into his hand, and with his head thrown back, he heaves out a desperate whine. You watch as he squeezes the base of his cock and pre-cum leaks out - your eyes glaze over at the prospect of milking him dry.

You can't help but gasp and to your demise, Tonowari picks it up with a flicker of his ears. Your mortification is humbling, you caught the man in a very intimate and private moment, then shamelessly watched.

"Finally," he grins, slow and tired. "My pretty syulang, I have been waiting for you to enter my kelku for the past week."

You gape at him, "But- you sent me out for fruit!"

The low growl Tonowari lets out is feral - reverberating around your ears. You're still hyperaware of his rigid, thick cock sitting prettily against his stomach, and the embarrassingly wet patch forming on your tewng. "Oh, how sweet!" he mocks, free hand smoothing down his chest. "Yawne, do you really think I would let you roam out for fruit?"

When his hips shift, his thighs clench, and his cock bobs. You're intently staring at his angry, swollen tip, and doing nothing to hide your interest

"Don't be shy, come here."

You let the fruit basket drop, and without a second glance at the swiveling food, you stride toward the man. Your mind is hazy with a thick cloud of fog, and it smells purely of him.

He gently takes your hand without standing up and turns you around - his height never ceases to amaze you. He’s as tall as you, raking his hands up and down your body. Your breath quickens as Tonowari grabs your hips and sits you down on one of his thighs then guides your legs around his. You feel your back collide with his sweat-ridden chest that's rhythmically moving with his deep breaths.

Now, with your thighs spread on his warm, soft ones, his dick is against your entrance. He's hard, tip an angry red from all his teasing. You feel the heat of him between your thighs and clench around nothing.

"Oh Eywa," he groans, hands winding around your waist and crawling towards your clothed sex. "Smell so sweet, yawne."

You let your head fall against his chest as he breathes you in, hands working quickly on your tewng. "Now, sweet girl. I will fuck you like this, and you will take it. Understand?"

You hum, nodding pathetically.

He palms your now bare sex and the action is vulgar. His hand is giant and warm - engulfing you by merely cupping his palm over your heat. The calloused texture teases your entrance as you wine and grip his strong arm. "Understand?" he growls, chest rumbling in heat.

"Yes!" you heave, "Please, Tonowari..."

"How needy," he chuckles at you again. You never knew Tonowari, an Olo'eyktan so sweet and gentle, could be so condescending in his laugh. "Anything you want, you will have," he whispers into your ear before thrusting a finger into your sopping cunt.

You cry in pain, and he swirls soothing circles on your clit while sushing you. The squelching noise that greets you is obscene, and you can merely flush at how wet you are. "Look down," he tells you, "Look at how I fuck you open."

And you do, the reality laid out in front of you. His finger fucks into you with a slow pace, glistening and wet. You grip his arm tighter, head revering into the crook of his neck. His other hand palms your breast, fully engulfing the skin before kneading and twisting at your nipple.

"Do you feel good?" he grunts, his hips rolling slightly beneath you. "Tell your Olo'eyktan how good you feel."

The demand is firm but teasing, and you can do nothing but comply. "S-so good...but more. Give me more!" you gasp, struggling to hump his hand.

"Mawey." he scolds, and when the hunky man who has his finger stuffed in your sopping cunt scolds you with such a sweet tone, another gush of your juices coat his finger. You can hear him inhale deeply, followed by a grunt. "Sevin, you have such a responsive cunt - already trying to come around my finger? What am I going to do with you..."

And with that, he slowly enters another finger. You clutch his arm with both hands like it's your lifeline, then feel his veins when they protrude from his muscly arms. His fingers are so thick, pressing into your walls and stretching you out deliciously. You feel so full, and you can only imagine what his cock must feel like. The teaser Tonowari gives you is filthy though, slowly grinding his palm on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers.

"We have to get you nice and wet for my cock," he assures you, giving attention to your other breast. He whispers in the crook of your neck with a smile ghosting on his lips. "Isn't that right?"

You nod quickly, head bobbing in pleasure when he speeds up. He full-on chuckles into your neck and you choke, "T-Tonowari, I-" you look down to the view he graces you with.

You don't realize how wet you are until you see his hands soaked. Your juices flow down his wrist and down his fingertips. You feel yourself clench tightly with a gasp, turning your head to look at him.

His blown-out pupils avert down, and a groan rips from his throat. "I know syulang - I can see it, I can see all of it."

"Tonowari!" you gasp, feeling something tighten in your stomach. Your orgasm is fast approaching and you feel the need to warn him - because it's going to hit you, hard. " 'm gonna," you whine, barely audible.

Tonowari suddenly stills his finger and removes them. You whine again, clutching his hand. He quickly pulls away and tuts, bringing the digits up and swiping them on your lips. You gasp, ready to take them in your mouth when he grabs your chin and turns your head towards his.

With your lips coated with a sheen line of your juices, he kisses you roughly. His tongue darts around to taste you and he moans at just your taste, hips bucking into your ass.

"I'm going to fuck you open syulang," he tells you sweetly before his voice roughens. "Is that okay? Is it okay if I put my cock in you?"

He grips your neck, commanding instead of asking. You still answer him though, you have to because he expects it.

"Yes! I want it - Eywa, I want it!"

#tonowari #tonowari x reader #avatar twow #avatar #avatar the way of water #tonowari smut #fluff #smut

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bookworm551 · 8 months

Text

Take the Edge Off | Part 6 | The Bet (1/2)

When you want to join Miguel for a mission, he places a bet with vague and undoubtedly devious stakes against you.

A/N: I am alive!!!! And I am so sorry this to forever to get done. I had to cut this part in half bc it was fixin to be 12k words long 😅 but the good news is that the next part is practically done and should be posted within a day. Anyways enjoy. If it feels rushed, that’s bc it is.

Warnings: full disclosure, there is no smut in this part (boooooooo) but! The next part is like 90% smut to make up for it :)

5.1k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9

The loss of Earth-2319 changed the atmosphere of the compound. Everyone mourned together in their own ways, and everyone was itching to help catch the anomaly that had caused such massive destruction. Initially, you had been willing to honor Miguel's boundary of not going on missions together. However, when you had seen the recorded simulation of Earth-2319's demise, you felt sick to your stomach.

It had started as one person glitching. Soon after, another glitched, and then another, until everybody was was writhing on the ground in pain and one-by-one all began disappearing. All of the colors contorted in sharp flashes all across the cityscape. You had to look away as confused and terrorized screams tore through the air until there was nothing left except a black screen.

After that, you were determined to be on the team to take down the anomaly. He was smart and elusive, and Spider-Byte and Lyla were both working constantly to track him down, and once they could isolate his location, Miguel and his selection of Spiders would pounce.

Still, it was going to be a challenge getting Miguel to change his mind about letting you come. The day after watching the horrifying footage of Earth-2319, you found him in the control room alone and decided it was the best chance you were going to get to convince him.

He was busy typing away at his monitors when you slung yourself up onto the platform. "Always working," you commented as you approached him from behind. He didn't stop his work to acknowledge your presence. "What do you want?" He asked in a short tone. He had been sharper in his words and attitude to everyone after the incident, even you.

"I just want to talk," you told him casually. His fingers never stilled, and he grunted in response. "I'm working," he told you flatly. You sighed dramatically. "You're always working," you repeated. "When was the last time you slept?"

He didn't answer you for a moment. "None of your concern," he said finally. You raised an eyebrow at him. "That answer is concerning," you said skeptically. "It's starting to get late, why don't you get some rest or take a break?"

He huffed in irritation. "And do what? Sit around and chat with you?" He asked sarcastically. That stung a little bit. "Don't be mean," you told him as you crossed your arms defensively. "I know you have a lot on your plate, but that doesn't mean you can snap at me."

He didn't reply, and his fingers still worked tirelessly at his keyboards. You sighed again. He didn't seem to be in a very generous mood, but you were still determined to be on the team.

You moved to sit on the space next to his keyboard. Though his eyes never moved away from his screen, you could tell he was watching you from his peripheral vision. "We don't have to talk," you told him with in a mischievous tone. "We could do other things instead." Maybe that would soften his resolve. Maybe he just needed to release some tension before he would be receptive to your request.

His fingers finally paused, and though he still didn't look at you, you knew you had his attention. Slowly, as if not to startled him, you reached over and grabbed him by the arm. He let you pull him away from the screens to stand in front of you. He finally raised his eyes to meet yours as you slowly ran your hands up and down his forearms.

"It's okay to give yourself some rest," you told him quietly. "We can go back to mine." His face remained neutral, but he let out a deep sigh. "I'm trying to formulate a plan and a team for the anomaly," he stated, and you noted how exhausted he sounded.

"I could help with that," you offered smoothly, a sly smile spreading across your face. You could see the interest in his eyes at your statement. "Oh, really?" He asked, a barely-perceptible smirk pulling at his lips. "And how's that?"

You bit your lip for a second as you steeled yourself to say what you wanted to say. Given how touchy he had been lately, you weren't sure how he was going to react to you. "You could add me to the team," you finally offered.

Any hint of softness immediately evaporated from his face. "No," he said sternly. "I told you before that you're not allowed to come on missions with me anymore." You let out a disappointed sigh as he pulled his arms away from your hands. "This is different," you insisted. "Everyone wants in on this mission, and so do I."

"And I should let you because we sleep together?" He guessed flatly. You rolled your eyes with an annoyed huff. "No, you should let me because I'm good," you countered. "A lot of them are good," he argued, "and I'm not letting most of them join."

"No, you know I'm good," you countered. "You're going to need me." His eyes narrowed marginally. "I don't need anyone," he shot back. "I could do this alone, but it's smarter to take more people and only the best." He turned away from you to resume his work on his monitor again with a sour expression.

"I am one of the best," you insisted stubbornly. "You know that, too. I've got one of the highest mission success rates, and my stealth is unmatched." It was true. There may be other Spiders who have unique abilities, but you boasted some of the best work out of all of them.

"I could match you," Miguel stated arrogantly. You raised an eyebrow at his remark and said, "No, I don't think even the great Miguel O'Hara could find me if I didn't want to be found." Miguel's working fingers paused, and his head tilted just barely as a thought occurred to him.

"Care to find out?" He asked, his eyes sliding over to your face.

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean?" You asked slowly. He studied your face for a moment, and you noticed the corner of his lips quirk upward ever so subtly. "You think you can hide from me?" He questioned. "How about we put it to the test."

Your eyes lit up as you understood his challenge. "You want to try to find me?" You asked. "Like hide and seek?" He looked down at you with a disapproving furrow of his brow. "That's a childish comparison," he remarked. You smirked and replied, "But in essence, it's like hide and seek." He held your gaze for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and admitting, "Fine, like hide and seek but with stakes."

You couldn't resist the smile growing on your face. "If you can't find me, I get to go on the mission," you assumed. Miguel gave a slow nod. "Yes," he conceded, earning an eager grin from you. "Alright," you accepted, "and what's in it for you?" Miguel tilted his head as he looked down at you with a smirk.

"When I find you," he began in a low voice, "I get to do whatever I want to you."

You felt a little thrill flutter up in your stomach. Staring up at him, you could see in his eyes that he was imagining you in a hundred different ways of submission. What sort of things did he have in his mind to do to you? As much as you wanted to be on the anomaly operation, a part of you wanted to find out what would happened if you lost the bet.

"Deal."

Miguel's smirk grew fractionally as he gazed down at you quietly for a moment. "What happened to being busy?" You asked playfully. He gave a small shrug. "You wanted me to take a break," he pointed out. "We better make it worth it."

You smirked at his response as he turned away after a moment to look at his dimensional watch. "Pick a universe," he told you. You raised an eyebrow at him. "Any universe?" You clarified. He nodded and explained, "So you don't accuse me of cheating when I find you."

You rolled your eyes at his comment and thought back to all the different Earths you had been to. After a moment of contemplation, you said, "Earth-57218." It had been the universe you had traveled to on your very first mission, and it's strange beauty left you with a feeling of awe that had yet to be replicated.

Miguel typed in the code for Earth-57218, and the portal appeared before you both. "I'll give you 15 minutes before I go in after you," he said. "Then I'm going in after you." "15 minutes?" You repeated apprehensively. You had been expecting a little more of a head start than that.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Is that too difficult?" He asked smugly.

Oh, he knew how to get to you, and you lifted your chin defiantly and shot back, "Please, if anything, that's too easy." You immediately regretted saying it because you knew exactly what he was going to say back. "Too easy?" He repeated, feigning surprise. "We'll make it 10 minutes, then."

Dammit.

"Fine," you said, trying to hide the regret behind your stubborn pride. Now, you were going to have to be smart about how to moved through the city. No sightseeing, you had to focus on beating Miguel. You typed in a 10-minute timer onto your gizmo before looking back up at Miguel. "And how long do you have to look before you lose?" You questioned.

He seemed amused by your question. "I won't lose," he responded confidently. "But if it makes you happy, then you'll have until dark." You quickly judged how long until it was dark and figured you had a little more than 2 hours to avoid being found.

"Alright," you agreed. "I'll see you then."

Miguel only watched with a smug grin as you started your timer, and with a quick wink, you stepped into the portal.

Earth-57218 was just as stunning as you remembered. The sky there was almost lilac in color, and the buildings seemed almost like paintings that covered the city. Even the sounds of traffic were almost musical. It was truly a beautiful world.

It took all of your concentration to keep from using up your 10-minute head start to just stare at the city. You immediately began swinging through the air, desperate to put as much distance between you and that portal. Miguel was undeniably good at finding his targets, and you wished again that you hadn't let your pride lessen the time you had to hide from him.

Something you had to keep in mind was the advantages that Miguel had over you. He had a keen sense of smell and a killer intuition, and while you were good at blending in, you were going to need to surround yourself with as many people as possible. Not a problem in a city like this.

Even in the early evening, the streets were packed full of people. You soared above them as you swung from building to building, thinking of places you could go to better conceal yourself from him. Beneath you, the pedestrians seemed trails of ants all bustling about. Where could you go to hide yourself?

You paused your swinging as you perched at the edge of a building to think. There were 8 minutes left on your timer, and you felt the pressure to win weigh down on you. Even from the great height you were at, the sounds of the city filled the air—people, sirens, horns, performers. You wished you could just spend some time exploring the city without the pressure of your bet.

With that thought, an idea occurred to you. "Hey, Lyla?" You called out, not sure if Miguel included the AI program in your new suit. To your surprise and relief, Lyla's yellow form appeared in front of you. "What can I do you for?" She asked cheerfully, looking at you through her heart-shaped glasses.

"I need to blend in," you told her. "Can I modify the suit for civilian wear?" Lyla shrugged. "Sure," she said causally. "What's your style? We have preppy, athletic, business, punk, even gothic." As she spoke, your suit disappeared and was replaced by several different outfits that matched the styles that Lyla had offered.

"Uh, athletic is good," you decided quickly, still conscious of the time ticking away on your watch. Your image flickered until you found yourself wearing what looked like leggings and a dry-fit shirt. Perfect. "Thanks, Lyla," you said gratefully. "Not a problem," she replied with a salute before disappearing.

You dropped down from the edge of the building, catching yourself at the last second before hitting the ground. When you landed in the streets, you immediately joined the current of people who didn't seem to pay you any mind. Keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings, you finally found what you were looking for.

Just like in your own city, there were stairs that descended into what you hoped would be a complex subway system. There was already a massive amount of people bustling about trying to get to their lines, and you noted with pleasant surprise that there were no turnstiles or payment stations. Completely free public transportation, just another reason to love Earth-57218.

You had no real destination in mind, so you just followed the crowd around you and stepped aboard the first train that arrived. Once the doors had closed, you checked your watch. 1:09 and counting. Now, you could only hope that this would work.

Looking up from your watch, you took in the sight of the people on the subway with you. A sea of faces filled the space around you, and you observed each and every one of them with interest. There was a girl across from you reading a book with long pink braids that contrasted sharply with her dark skin. Sitting next to her was an old woman with her large purse resting on her lap, her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. A business man stood to your left, his clothes pressed and clean as he spoke on the phone in Mandarin. On your right, a young man and woman stood together. You noticed how the girl showed him something on her phone, and together, they started laughing quietly. The woman took her phone back, but the man was still staring at her face with a warm smile, and the love he felt for her was painfully evident in his eyes.

Seeing such a wide diversity of people all around all at different points in their life filled you with a strange sort of nostalgia. You felt like an imposter sitting amongst these normal civilians simply going about their lives. How different would your life be had you not been bitten by that spider all those years ago? Would you be in a successful career by now, not hindered by the endless fatigue that plagued you from your late-night hero work? Would you be carefree and fun if not for the responsibility that came with your power?

Looking back at the young couple, you felt a pang of longing in your chest. You had never been able to settle into a long-term relationship since becoming Spider-woman. The secrets, the late nights, the missed dates, it was all too much for any relationship to survive. Many times, you wondered how you would look at the end of your life—old, gray, and alone. Sometimes, you wondered if you would even make it that far, or if maybe one day, there would be a villain you just couldn't beat. All of these thoughts were like an ever-present cloud in your mind, and there was no way for you to ever communicate it to anyone else. There was nobody who understood what it meant to be you.

But Miguel did.

The thought was like a whisper in your ear. Miguel knew what you had sacrificed. He felt the suffocating weight of being a hero, too. He understood the loneliness that consumed you every day. You could tell yourself that you had only started this undefined, physical relationship out of boredom, that it was just because he was hot and you were horny, but deep down, at the bottom of that calloused thing you called a heart, you knew you longed for a sense of companionship with him.

But what could you have with him beyond the occasional late-night liaison? His work was just as important to him as yours was to you, and neither of you had the time to give to each other the way you wished you could. Besides, Miguel was even more guarded than you were, and other than the brief moments laying on the pillows together as your bodies were buzzing with endorphins, he never seemed willing to let down that guard for you.

You were startled out of your thoughts by the swell of people leaving the subway. Looking around, you realized you had passed all the stops and reached the end of the line, and it was about to start heading back down again. You quickly stood, still reeling from the disconcerting thoughts, and exited onto the platform.

You moved through the crowd as fast as you could without drawing unnecessary attention to yourself. Miguel was undoubtedly somewhere in the city looking for you, and you felt the pressure of his pursuit in your mind. You really wanted to go on that mission.

Now, you had maybe an hour and a half to kill before it was completely dark. What to do, oh what to do. Emerging from the subway stairs, you were immediately swept away by the bustling crowd. You followed down the sidewalk of a busy street full of honking cars. You were tempted to find a way to swing up to the top of the buildings, but you reasoned that Miguel would be looking for you there. On the ground, you were practically invisible.

That thought allowed you to relax somewhat. You had wanted to peruse the city to enjoy the unique beauty it possessed, and now, you allowed yourself to do so. You soaked in the vibrant colors and loud noises all around you. There were performers, tourists, residents, vendors, and many other different types of people everywhere. In many ways, it was like your city, but the subtle differences all around made it still feel like a new world.

You walked for what felt like miles. Though you enjoyed the sights of the city, you still kept a watchful eye on the skyscrapers around for any sight of Miguel. A part of you wished he was there with you just to enjoy the city alongside you, but you knew that was ridiculous. Miguel didn't do fun things, and to do them with you would be too close to having an actual relationship, something he had reminded you several times he did not have time for.

You shook yourself from your thoughts with a sigh. You seriously needed to get a grip. You had been perfectly fine with just hooking up before. Why were you all of a sudden plagued with these thoughts of Miguel?

You answered yourself silently by glancing down at the web shooters, now disguised as thick bracelets, that he had given you. His gift to you had been so generous and unexpected that it made you think that perhaps he saw you as more than just a fuck buddy. In fact, something about your last encounter in general made you rethink everything.

Maybe it was the vulnerability he showed you after the loss of Earth-2319. He had come straight to you for comfort, and even if it was through sex, you still felt that it had meant something. Additionally, he had gotten a glimpse into your personal life by seeing your home, sleeping in your actual bed, not just your little standard-issue apartment at HQ.

And the looks—the softening of his eyes, the subtle smiles on his lips, the one laugh he had given you—each one was tucked away in your memory like a collection of rare, sacred artifacts. Each was made precious through the knowledge that he wasn't like that with anyone else, and you never wanted to stop collecting them.

No, you shouldn't be thinking things like that. You needed to stop. You needed to escape from him, and not just in the way you were doing now by hiding, but also in your mind. There was something about the mundane that made you yearn for a simple life, and you realized how much you would like to live it with him. Surrounding yourself with these blissfully ignorant people was seriously infecting you with this inexplainable melancholy. You needed to get your mind off of these brooding thoughts, and you knew just the way.

The sun was dwindling towards the horizon now, and still, there was no Miguel in sight. You had wandered around the city for a surprising amount of time, though to you, it seemed only a brief few minutes. If you could avoid him for maybe 30 more minutes, you would win the bet. You reasoned that 30 minutes was hardly enough time for Miguel to find you now that you had taken the subway to the other end of the city and wandered around for over an hour and a half.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, you slipped into a side alley. You were about to call for Lyla again to change your suit, but as you thought about what you wanted, the suit itself took the initiative to change for you. You stood in awe for a second as your whole body transformed from athletic wear to your spider suit, and you wondered again for the millionth time why Miguel thought to give you such an amazing piece of technology.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts of Miguel again, you scaled the side of the building all the way to the top. From there, you leapt off and began swinging with no particular direction in mind. Up here, you were able to forget about those thoughts that plagued you down below. The wind rushing around you freed your mind of all concerns for Miguel and gave you a sense of confidence that only swinging from building to building could give you.

You finally pulled yourself up to the top of the highest building you could see. You settled down on the edge with your legs dangling over the side of the building. The sun was halfway set already, and the sky was painted brilliantly with pinks, violets, and orange.

It was incredible, truly incredible that you were able to be there, to be in another dimension. You didn't ever express your gratitude to Miguel for letting you join the Spider Society and allowing you to access places like this. Lately, you had been taking it for granted, but as you watched the sun dwindle beneath the horizon, you were filled with a deep sense of gratefulness.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your premonitory senses screamed at you to jump. Without a second thought, you quickly pushed yourself off the building, and right where you had been sitting, a bright orange web appeared.

As you twisted through the air, you caught Miguel's large figure leaping after you. "Sight seeing?” He called out to you as he shot another web at your figure. “Shit," you cursed quietly to yourself. You had been so close to winning. How had he found you out here?

You didn't let yourself dwell on the thought for too long since Miguel was swinging towards you with all of the focused determination of a predatory animal. You let your instincts take over as you hurdled through the air, narrowly avoiding his webs. You tried using your surroundings to your advantage—swinging around halfway-built buildings, turning at the last second through a construction zone, crawling up glass windows you knew he couldn't stick to. Nothing worked, though, and he stayed close behind you.

In that moment, your heart was pounding with the thrill of his chase, and you felt almost giddy at being able to swinging around the city like this without the danger of fighting someone. Miguel of all people was the one who reminded you of how much fun it was to be Spider-woman sometimes.

You saw a bridge ahead that crossed over one of the many channels in the city. Back on your world, you loved perching atop the numerous, large bridges to watch the sunset, so it shouldn't have surprised you that you instinctively webbed over to it, swinging underneath where countless cars were crossing over the water.

"You can't run forever," Miguel shouted behind you. Under your mask, you smiled. He was right. He had found you, and even though the sun had receded behind the horizon, the brilliant twilight still lit up the city, and you recognized that he had won the bet. You sighed in resignation, wishing that you could've gone on the mission to capture the anomaly. Still, you were going to honor your agreement, so instead of releasing your web to continue fleeing from Miguel, you let yourself swing back towards him.

Miguel was still quickly hurdling towards you. With you falling backwards and him moving forward, your webs actually caught together, and your bodies began circling around each other as your webs twisted around like a rope.

You stared at him as you spun around each other, and he stared back at you wordlessly. As your webs wrapped around each other, your bodies grew closer together until Miguel caught you around your waist and pulled you to him. There was a moment of stillness between you as your webs had now wrapped all the way down to your wrists, and you allowed your suit to retract enough to reveal your half-smirking face.

You wanted Miguel to show his face, too, but he just stared at yours for a few quiet seconds before your webs slowly began unraveling. Instead of continuing to let himself spin away from you, Miguel dropped down to the ground below right next to the channel. His suit retracted away from his face as well, and he was looking up at you with a triumphant expression.

Instead of releasing your web to fall down beside him, you pulled your lower body up above your head so that you were upside-down in a characteristic Spider pose. Slowly, you slid down your web until your upside-down face was level with his right-side-up one.

"I won," he told you in a low voice, a faint smile on his lips. You hummed quietly in response. "Really, I surrendered," you argued cheekily. You knew that he had you beat, but you couldn't let him know that. "The conditions were if I found you," he explained, and you could tell he was amused by your attempts to rationalize losing. "And I found you."

"Mmmm, I think they were if you caught me," you countered. "Which you didn't. I surrendered." Miguel raised his eyebrows as he pretended to entertain your argument. "Oh, really?" He said, and you nodded solemnly at him. He took a step forward and gently grabbed your head in his hands. "I caught you now," he murmured quietly, his smirking lips appearing like they were turned downward due to you looking at him upside-down.

"Damn," you whispered, "I guess you did." His thumbs brushed across your cheeks for a second as he studied your face quietly. As the two of you stared at each other, the bustling noises of the city seemed to fade away. The only thing you could hear now was your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel your face growing warm, and you didn't know if it was from being upside-down or from the way his fingers traced over your skin. Finally, in the dying violet light around you, Miguel kissed you.

His lips were a familiar feeling, yet your body reacted like it was the first time. Maybe it was the effects of the adrenaline from his chase, or maybe it was your own stupid emotions getting the better of you. Either way, you felt a fluttering in your chest that was hard to ignore.

As Miguel kissed you, you forgot all about the thoughts that had plagued you earlier. You didn't think about the fears you had with living a double life. You didn't think about the yearning you felt for a connection. You didn't even think about how impossible it was for you to be with him. All of your attention was focused on the way his lips moved against yours.

Finally, he broke away from you, leaving a pleasant hum running through your body. "How did you find me?" You asked quietly, breaking the charged silence between you. One corner of his lips quirked upward. "I'm the best," he replied in an arrogant tone, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.

His thumbs were still brushing across your skin, and softly, he added, "It's easy when it's you. I could find you anywhere."

His words knocked out any capacity you had to think. You hung there in a flustered stupor, unable to come up with any response to him. Despite your lack of rational thought, you still felt a vague nagging in the back of your mind reminding you that this couldn't last. Why did it have to be him out of all the people in the multiverse for you to feel this way toward?

However, your apprehensive feeling disappeared again when he pressed another soft kiss to your lips. It was shorter this time, but it still left you smiling like a fool. "I still think I should go on the mission," you told him. Miguel gave a small huff of amusement. "Nice try," he replied. "You lost. Now, enough stalling."

You felt a nervous thrill flutter in your stomach as you remembered his conditions of the bet. I get to do whatever I want to you. He stepped away from you to type in his home world into his gizmo while you sighed in resignation. Turning over, you dropped down to the ground beside him as the portal appeared in front of you.

"After you," he said smugly. You rolled your eyes. "Such a gentleman," you huffed under your breath as you stepped into the portal with him following closely behind you.

#spider man #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara smut #atsv miguel #miguel x you #spider man 2099 #spider man across the spider verse #into the spider verse

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netherfeildren · 10 months

Text

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .7

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Angst, Discussions of child abandonment, Discussions of child neglect; Family dynamics; Mention of abortion; Jealousy; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: There are much happier times ahead after this, I promise. I hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

As the turn of the season marches its way into the city, the leaves bloom the crisp, bright colors of autumn. Austin comes alive with the burning colors of fall: reds and oranges and yellows, so beautiful. It makes you feel nothing. You usually love the change of the weather into the colder months, but this year it all feels – meaningless. Empty – like you.

And yet, life continues, work continues, and at the end of October you and your fellow art teacher plan a field trip to one of the city's parks for the children to paint the colors of the changing leaves. It should be something to look forward to, despite the stress of having to organize a group of twenty first graders and wrangle them in a large, open space, you usually look forward to things like this. You love your job, it’s always made you happy, but somewhere along with the part of you that he’d stolen away, you’d slowly gone by losing other smaller parts of yourself, discarding them in the wake of your grief. Your ability to smile, to enjoy the things that had always previously made you happy, all gone away with him. All you can focus on now is how much you miss him. How much you hate all the decisions you’ve ever made, and how much you resent your history, your parents, for leaving you this broken, wanting thing that could not seem to find happiness – that would not let yourself be happy. No matter how hard you try.

But above the wailing cacophony of your grief, your longing for him ringing in your ears, there is the overwhelming resounding cry of your past screaming at you: you can’t let this go, you can’t let this go, you can’t let us go. Your parents, their history, the tragedy of their demise, the painful solitude of your childhood, the sight of your father wasting away for years and years and you, a child, unable to do anything, unable to help him, to save him, to bring her back so that he could be okay.

But you also can’t let him go. It was, you now knew, an impossibility. As futile as forgetting your own name, how to breathe, how to be alive. Holding on to him now is an intrinsic part of you that you’re sure you’ll live with for the rest of your life.

And so, the real question now is, what are you more willing to hold on to? But no, that isn’t right either, the better question is: what do you have to hold on to? What do you need to survive? What can you not live without? What would leave you only half a person if you were to let it go – the past or him?

You’re sure you know the answer, but are only too afraid to admit that all you’d put the two of you through throughout all this, had been pointless. So pointless and so needlessly painful.

All you want now is to talk to him. No, you don’t even have to talk. If you could just get the chance to see him, even if from a distance, it would make everything better. You just want to see that he’s okay, that he’s not as miserable as you are. That he hasn’t been left as desolate as you seem to have ended up.

The day is gorgeous, despite your mood, and the class has been good so far, calm and cooperative. The kids all sitting across picnic blankets you’d spread out on the grass amongst the fallen leaves. They’re all chattering and painting, engrossed in their task, when you hear your name being shouted from across the park in a high pitched little voice, and like a fucking revelation from above or your worst nightmare, your deepest desire come alive from the bottom of your heart – there they are. Sarah, running at full speed towards you from the far side of the park. Joel stalking a few paces behind her – his face like stone. You start to move towards them in a daze.

You take in the sight of him from afar – massive, so tall, and so beautiful. His hair is longer, his dark curls brushing the back of his collar and curling along his temples. Weeks since you’d last seen him, since he’d last touched you, since that horrible moment in that restaurant bathroom. Your cunt clenches, empty and desperate, around nothing, just at the sight of him. He has on a dark green flannel that brings out the warmth in his eyes, you can see it, even from all the way over here. He looks so big, so strong, and you have a sudden, savage vision of him forcing you to the ground right here, in the middle of the park, and taking you for himself, forcing your legs open and ravishing you. Your head goes slightly woozy, dizzy, at the intensity of it, and you stumble, holding your hand out towards Sarah. You can see his eyes tracking your movements, your unsteadiness. His cheeks are bright red, flushed with the crisp autumn air, or perhaps, with anger.

She squeals your name as she runs towards you, throwing herself into your legs, wrapping her arms around you when she slams into you. Your breath whooshes out of you at the impact, and you’re forced to take a step back as her body rocks into yours. Careful, Sarah. Be gentle, he calls.

“Sarah,” you gasp, “Hi, baby. How are you?”

“I missed you,” she says, and her face is so sincere, so full of genuine happiness at seeing you, despite the fact that she’d only met you a couple times, that it brings tears to your eyes now, but you aren’t sure what kind of tears they are. Perhaps, from the pain of seeing your past self reflected in her fervor. The devastation of being confronted with him again. The most sublime elation because look at this little girl and how special and wonderful she is, and she’s happy to see you. She’s so in need of the attention and comfort of a maternal figure, and she reminds you very, very much of yourself at her age. It breaks your heart to feel her innocent desperation. You cannot even consider looking up at her father, you know that if you do, you’ll break down entirely, sobbing at his feet, begging him to forgive you, to love you back as much as you love him. “We– we should go play in the water again. I liked it so much when we did that. I had so much fun.” There’s such earnest pleading in her voice, but it gets just the tiniest bit smaller and quieter when she says the last part, as if she’s unsure if you’ll feel the same, if you’ll reciprocate her feelings. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out through your mouth as you hug her closer to you.

When you open your eyes again and look down at her upturned face your voice is slightly steadier, “We can go whenever you want, sweet pea. I had so much fun, too,” but you lose the battle at the end, voice cracking slightly. You can feel his hovering presence at your periphery like a blazing inferno, demanding attention, and you finally look up at him. He has a slightly unhinged look in his eyes, taking you in from head to toe, gaze manically roving your form, like a man starved, parched – desperate and ravenous.

“I had to go to the doctor,” Sarah says. “Look,” she shows you a bandaid on her little bicep, “I got a Sailor Moon sticky, but it hurt really bad.” She pouts and you rub her hair, cooing at the small hurt.

You look back up at him then, “Joel,” you croak. He doesn’t say anything, and you can see a slight tremble in the lines of his arms. He turns his face away from you, looking across the park, and you watch the ripple of muscles in his throat as he swallows several times, the flare of his nostrils as he takes his own set of deep, calming breaths. “Please, say something,” you beg.

You hate the look in his eyes, you hate it, you hate that you’re the reason he looks like this right now. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves your love. He deserves to be loved. He’d told you once that you weren’t some secret to be kept, hidden, that you deserved to be cherished out in the open, you realize, in this instant, that he deserves the same, and that what you’re doing to him is wrong. But how to stop it? How to change the most integral part of your mind, of your belief system, and that which it all hinges on, your past, your history? An impossible feat.

“What are you doing here?” he finally says. His voice is rough and deep, and the mere sound of it makes everything deep in your tummy clench painfully.

You’re still hugging Sarah to yourself, and she tightens her arms around you, looking up between the two of you as if she can tell that something isn’t right. “Field trip.” You hook your thumb back towards where your kids are still being watched over by the other chaperones.

He finally turns back to look at you, and the fire in his eyes is terrible for all the desperation and pain you recognize in it. “It’s been weeks,” he whispers.

“I know.” You rub Sarah’s shoulders gently, feel her nuzzle into your thighs.

“I went to look for you at the school.”

“I know.” Your voice sounds almost like a cry. Despite everything, despite telling you that this was hurting him, he’d still come to look for you again. He hadn’t given up on you, no matter how many times you’d pushed him away.

“I knew you’d seen me,” and he looks so hurt as he says it, that it sends a spear of fire through your chest. You can tell he’s holding on to his control by tenterhooks, trying his best not to let his anger out and scare you or Sarah. An irrational part of you wishes he’d lose control, throw you over his shoulder and force you to go with him.

“Daddy?” Sarah’s little voice.

“Are we just never going to speak again? Is this the way you want it to stay?”

“No,” you croak, “I don’t– I don’t know,” a violent shake of your head, “I mean– yes, of course we are. I just can’t do this right now.” Your kids are waiting for you. You’re supposed to be working right now, not watching the rest of your future crumble brick by brick before your eyes, the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted for yourself angry beyond words at you. He scoffs, runs a shaking palm over his mouth and beard.

You hear the other teacher call your name from behind, and as he comes up next to you, he puts a hand on your shoulder, perhaps sensing the tension or a fight brewing. “Everything alright over here?” he asks you gently, not sparing a glance at Joel.

The entire right side of Joel’s face spasms furiously. “We’re in the middle of a fucking conversation here,” he spits, taking an aggressive step forward, eyes zeroed in on the hand touching you. You shrug it off immediately.

“Joel–” you warn, at the same time that Sarah’s high, anxious voice cries, “Daddy, why are you mad?” Her voice seems to snap him out of it, he looks down to her, his eyes going slightly wider for a second before he squeezes them shut and shakes his head once, quick.

“I’m not, baby. I’m sorry–”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you murmur to your coworker. “Can you give us a minute? I’ll be right there.”

As he retreats, you say again, “I can’t do this now, Joel. But maybe–”

He shakes his head, ignoring you, crouching down to Sarah’s level. “Let’s go home, baby.” He places a gentle palm on her slight back. You can see the tremble of his hand, and it makes a sharp pain start up behind your left eyeball.

“No, I don’t want to go with you!” she says muffled into your thighs.

“Sarah, baby, please. We need to go home,” he begs her.

“Joel–” He continues to ignore you.

“I don’t want to go yet,” she looks up at you, her little face pleading, “I want to stay with you, please.” Her eyes are starting to fill with tears. “Don’t you want me to stay with you? You said you had fun with me.” The tears start to fall, your own pool in your eyes.

“Sarah, it’s okay, baby. We’ll play another time,” there’s a begging lilt in your voice too. What are you doing? This is all your fault, you’re hurting the both of them.

Joel stands to his full height now, finally meeting your eyes again, and his voice is hard and angry, patience come to an end as he says, “Sarah, it’s time to go. Say goodbye. I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“No! I don’t want to go with you! You’re being mean!” She turns her tear streaked face to him now, pulling on your clothes as if trying to scramble up your body. “Please, Daddy, please, I want to stay here.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, “Sarah, please.”

“Why do I never get to play with girls? Where’s mommy? Why hasn’t she come back? I’m tired of just being with you, Daddy!”

He flinches at that. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you’d have missed it. If you hadn’t memorized his face so well, you wouldn’t have seen the muscle under his left eye twitch. He freezes as she starts to sob loudly, and you’re at a loss, writhing in agony for the both of them.

He crouches down again at the sound of her very real and anguished sobs, and his voice is gentle and coaxing again, when he says, “Let’s go home, baby girl. It’s alright, come on. I’ll get you an ice cream. How does that sound? With the rainbow sprinkles we like, okay?” He pries her off you gently, not turning to look at your face again, taking extra care to not touch you even a little bit, but you feel the heat of his hand against your thigh as he grabs her, and it has a jagged shock moving through you. You desperately wish he’d take you with him too.

He wraps her in his arms and picks her up, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hear her sniffle as she hides her face in his neck, a safe place. You wish you could hide from the world there too.

“I know, baby.” He rubs soothing strokes along her back as she wraps her little arms around him to clutch at his hair.

“When’s mommy coming back?” she mumbles as they walk away. He does not turn back to you.

The encounter in the park makes everything worse. Much, much worse. Like your heart had been ripped clean out of your chest that day and had gone off with Sarah and Joel, leaving you behind to float in the rotten pool of your misery.

“I heard a strange rumor recently.” Your mother’s voice, soft but discerning, comes through the phone – first call in six months. It makes dread coil in your belly. Nothing good ever follows that tone.

“Oh? What’s that?” She doesn’t call often, but when she does, it’s usually to ask for something, you’d already promised to send her a few hundred dollars, or to share news of a new boyfriend or trip or something equally self involved.

“You remember my friend Betty? From when you were growing up – she lived down the street from us. Well, she’s in Austin now too, has been for some time–” Fuck, “And you wouldn’t believe, but her daughter’s a doctor now, there in Austin too, very impressive.” She’d always hated that you’d become an art teacher – not glamorous enough for her. “Maybe you remember her, too? Little blonde thing, very cute… and well, she said she was at a birthday party recently,” No, no, no, no, please, no. “And she said she’s almost sure she saw you looking pretty cozy with some man, who she has on good authority, is married.” There is a sharp and cruel vein of satisfied glee in her voice, “And you know, I really couldn’t believe it when she said so, and I told Betty, ‘My daughter? She’d never get herself involved with a married man.’ I mean, you’ve always cast me as the worst sort of woman for leaving my own unhappy marriage for another man. So, how could it be that my saintly little girl has now fallen into my own footsteps? I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” You’re shocked speechless. Of course, of course, she’s found some way to hear about this. She’s always had a way of finding out everything about you, as long as you’d go without speaking or seeing each other, she always finds a way of sniffing out the things in your life you want to keep hidden from her, as much as she claims she doesn’t care what you do or what becomes of you. “Nothing to say?” she croons.

“It–” your throat is tight, filled with tears already, confessing this to her will break you in a way you don’t think you’ll be able to recover from. “It’s not like that – it’s not like… you,” I’m not like you, I’m not, I’m not. “It wasn’t something– something done purposely,” you whisper. “It just happened.”

She laughs at that, long and loud, “Yes, well… it usually does happen like that. Unintentional. One doesn’t often set out to ruin a life, do they? Sometimes it just happens, I suppose, no? What do you think?”

“I haven’t – I haven’t ruined a life,” you blink furiously, shaking your head even though she can’t see you.

“Oh, no? You’ve always taken yourself to be so high and mighty – always so holier than thou, and now? What? You’ve ended up just like me. Brought low, down to my level, after you’ve always judged me so harshly. How does it feel? To have ended up just like me? Scum like mommy.”

“I didn’t ask to be this…” you cry, “This– this hideous thing I’ve turned myself into–” like a creature of cracked skin and painful faultlines, “But this is what you made me, this is all you left me with, an inability to escape you, an inability to have a normal relationship.” You know she can hear the tears in your voice, and that she’ll be all the worse for it, crueler for subjecting her to your weakness, but you can’t help it. She hates it when you cry, your tears have always reminded her of her own weaknesses.

“Baby girl, that’s just what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better. And sure, if it helps… if it works, go on. You tell yourself that. But you’ve made your own choices. I can’t be held at fault for what you do with your life.”

“I’ve never seen anything else but the wrong kind of love. A– a painful kind of love–” you think of your past words to Joel – his worry that he and Eva had only ever given Sarah the wrong example of what it is to love, and your reassurance that the love he gave her was all that mattered. You’d never had that, you’d never had that sort of steady, reassuring presence that he was able to provide his daughter, and so how could you have turned out any way other than gnarled and wrong? And yet something in you rebelled at that thought, for you felt, deep inside, that despite the circumstance, the way you felt about Joel was anything but wrong. If anything, it was the only thing in your life that made sense, the only thing that was truly right. “How could I have turned out any other way…?”

She’s quiet for a moment after that, and when she speaks again, the venom in her voice is gone, and the mother you hold so sacredly in your memory, the one she only lets you see on occasion, makes a rare appearance. Her voice gentled now, she says: “I know… I know it wasn’t always right, that I wasn’t always right,” she huffs a breath of laughter and it sounds… almost sad, “But I did love you.” Did love – the past tense spears you through the heart and silent tears drip down your chin, “I’m sorry that I’ve made you believe otherwise, but I did.” And you know, part of you recognizes the truth in her words, despite the pain they bring, you know that she had loved you, she’d just never known how to show you – it was always the wrong way, the wrong kind of love, but it was love. The love of a mother who’d never really wanted to be a mother.

“I know,” you tell her quietly.

You were always fighting with her in your sleep. Unable to let the wound close. But you were so tired, you needed to let it go, you now thought. You needed to move on, couldn’t let it rule your life and your relationships anymore.

You can’t help but think that a broken home is such a funny and strange thing that spits out equally funny and strange people. At once, fractured, disjointed, painful, but at the same time, still a family, still desperate for all those things that make a family, a family. Despite not really knowing what that truly means. Still held together by that obligation of blood, love, need, childhood. Something inescapable, and even yet, in many ways, unbreakable. For you can never truly break a thing like that. It would always live with you, in some manner. You would never be able to forget it, and even if you cast it away, left it behind, forgave, memory was not a thing so easily let go of. It would stay with you regardless of what you did or who you became. Keep its claws in you. But you didn’t think you had to let it rule you anymore, subjugate you. You could forgive your parents for their faults and their let downs, for being human, for being bad parents. If you could not forget, then you could forgive, let go, move on, stop letting their memory dictate you.

She was never a good mother, but she was still your mother, and you’d always known that despite everything, you’d always loved her anyways. You always would.

You wonder what it was about some women who were able to find such comfort, purpose, stability in motherhood, as opposed to others who saw it only as a prison, a grave. Was it paradox, nature, nurture, personality, fate? Nothing meaningful at all, no reason, it just was? You wished there was a set equation that could tell you what you would be, who you would be, what kind of mother you would turn into, were you to become one.

And then, in opposition – the plane of fatherhood and all it entailed. What was it that made a man a good and caring father, as opposed to one who drank themselves to death, and left their already very alone child, even more alone? What was it to have a good mother and a bad father or vice versa? To have both of the same? What were the implications, and what sort of creature would it turn you into once their influence had been wrought upon you?

What were the implications of having had bad parents, and then, when the time came for you to become one yourself, wanting desperately to be a good one? How did you do that when you’d had only poor examples?

How did you escape faithlessness?

You had to wonder, would your father have always become what he had, even if she had never done what she did, if your mother had never left, never been unfaithful? You didn’t think that you could cast all the blame on her anymore. After all, a marriage was a strange and intimate thing, only looked upon in its true form by the two people within it. No one could turn a thing into something it was never meant to be. No one could turn you into someone you didn’t already have within you. This was true for yourself, as well. You supposed, the same could even be said for Joel and Eva. People were what they were. Nature versus nurture, again and again and again.

You had been so staunchly stuck upon the fact that you couldn’t be the thing to break their marriage apart, when he’d told you, time and time again, that there was already nothing to be broken, that there had never been anything to break in the first place. The marriage, too, had always been what it was. Had you, in your fear and fractured history, tried to make it into something that it had never been for fear of it turning you into that very history you were so frightened of? There were different realities to category, different things held different significance and not everything was the same in perpetuity.

Categories, labels, titles – husband, wife, lover, mother, father, daughter – was it all useless fodder people ascribed to a thing to be able to bend a person or a feeling to their will? You didn’t think you could tell anymore. The ideas that had always been so securely held in your mind seemed to have all been shifted askew by a man who, in his own right, was beyond category. A title did not make a thing real. But love – that was its own category, of this you were sure. That was a pillar all on its own, its own realm which opened up possibilities and necessities that you were now coming to realize were uncontainable.

And so, what of you and Joel? Did that count for nothing merely because of a lack of category for what you two had? No. Impossible. Because in many ways, what existed between the two of you was a marrying of your very souls, a melding of them – as if he’d stolen it straight out of your chest. Its own category ascribed to its position in your reality, and thus directing all your actions for the simple fact that you were in love with him, and it could not be swallowed any longer.

What is it to feel before category?

Were the labels useless until there was feeling behind them?

All your life labels, titles, promises, promises, promises had never meant a single thing to anyone around you. Not your parents' promises to each other: husband, wife; not their promises to you: mother, father, daughter, family. None of it had ever meant anything, so how could you ever be expected to have faith in the promise of category?

How did you escape faithlessness? How?

You and Joel loved each other – real. That was its own category, its own faith, in a way. The feeling behind category.

What was it to feel before category? Possibility.

What was it to feel after category? Promise.

There was a real sort of promise in love – no guarantee, surely, for love could be wrong, but intention, for it could also be right. Joel and Sarah and everything he’s done solely for her sake – committing himself to a marriage he’d not wanted, had known would never work. There was a promise in that. A father telling his daughter that he would do anything to give her what a child could need: a family, a home, togetherness, security. He’d sacrifice anything for that.

You’d always known you recognized something in him, but what was that thing? You’d thought that you couldn’t say, or didn’t want to say, didn’t want to admit it, for too long. Part terror, definitely, part desire, unfortunately – most horrifying of all, and that which had been your first realization where he was concerned: yourself, kindredness. You saw yourself in him – a great and unbearable knowing. The two of you were the same. And so, it was only then, love. And oh, there it was. Perhaps you could admit it after all.

For at the end of everything, the simple reality you were now forced to accept was that to know was to love, and you’d known Joel from the first first moment you’d met him, as he’d known you. A thing was what it was, and no matter what category you tried to force it into, it would remain as it had been born as. Recognition was, you thought, what ascribed value, what made the decision in the end.

“You’re cold, Joel. You push people away, hold them at arm's length.” Hours of this interminable back and forth between the two of them. His temples were throbbing. All he wanted to do was fall face first into bed and not resurface until tomorrow morning. But she was getting at something – restless and coiled all day – she was getting ready to make her decision. Eva was leaving.“What woman would ever want to stay for that? You aren’t unlovable… you just won’t let yourself be loved.” He shakes his head at that, not looking at her. Not true, he wants to say. Despite everything, he still thinks there’s a part of you that loves him, you love him, you love him, he knows it. Even if you can’t let yourself be with him, or don’t want to be with him. “And anyways,” she continues, “It was never supposed to be me. I was never supposed to be the one to love you, we both know that. It was never us. We never had a chance. We never loved each other.”

“Did we ever even like each other?” sardonic – and she laughs, high and rueful, at that.

“You know what your real problem is?” Her voice takes on that especially vicious tone she likes to use sometimes, the one that makes his bones itch inside the confines of his skin. “You’re selfish, Joel. You– you just want me here–”

Now that makes him laugh.“I’ve told you many times… you’ve got no obligation to me, Eva.” He sits heavily on the sofa, elbows braced on his spread knees, staring unseeingly ahead. He thinks that his voice sounds so tired, so unlike the sort of man he wishes he was, a creature he hardly even recognizes anymore. “If you wanna go, then go. I won’t stop you. I won’t hold you back. I won’t resent you for it. I won’t turn our daughter against you afterwards. I’ll respect your decision.”

“That’s not true! You forced my obligation to the two of you when you let me come back. You should’ve never taken me back, you knew it wasn’t what I really wanted. I–”

He shakes his head, “You’re talkin’ nonsense. You can’t cast the blame of your guilt on me because I– I– what? Because I let you come back into our daughter’s life after you abandoned her? That makes no fuckin’ sense, and you know it.” He points a finger down the dark hall towards the room where Sarah sleeps, peaceful and unaware. “You will always have an obligation to that little girl – no matter how far you go or what you do or what you think of me. You will always have an obligation to her. Even if you don’t see it through… even if you leave – it’ll always be there, by virtue of the simple fact that you’re her mother, and no matter how badly you’d like to escape that, you never can.”

“You think I wanted to give up my freedom again? Once I’d gotten it back? But I– I, I felt so – like I was supposed to be here – like it’s what the world expected of me. So here I fucking am – miserable and stuck with you.”

“Evie, darlin’, I’ve never wanted you miserable,” he says softly, reverting back to that nickname he sometimes called her, when they were trying especially hard to get along, when things weren’t, in the rare occasion, so terribly fraught between them. “I told you from the very start of all this, that what happened would be up to you. The decisions were yours to make, and I’d support you in whatever you wanted. I never wanted to force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

“Well, I didn’t want to have a baby with you!”

He clenches his jaw tight. “Then you shouldn’t have.” He is trying very, very hard to keep a controlled grip on his anger.

“So, what, I should’ve gotten an abortion? Is that what you would have preferred? Gotten rid of her?” He feels very close to rage, hearing her talk of Sarah like this, but he forces deep breaths in and out of his lungs. Tries to remain calm and rational.

“If that’s what you wanted – I told you that if that was what you wanted I’d have supported you.”

She laughs, cruel and broken. “Please, you would’ve fucking hated me.”

“And?” That wipes the jagged smirk off her face. “I wouldn’t have – I would’ve understood, of course I would have – we were fucking strangers, but even if I did hate you – what the fuck does it matter? I didn’t even know you. What would it have mattered?”

She’s silent at that, almost stunned, for it’s the truth. They’d been complete strangers then. In many ways, they still were now, even after the birth of a child together, after three years of marriage. They didn’t really know each other, not in the intimate or tender ways that made up a real marriage.

“That wasn’t an option for me.”

“I know. And I accepted that.”

“You should’ve never asked me to marry you.”

His eyes flutter shut, frustration surging again. “I felt it was the right thing to do at the time.”

“But now?”

“What do you want? You want to hear that I regret it? That this was the worst mistake of my life? You want me to tell you that I’ll stay with you forever? What do you want to hear? I don’t– I don’t know how to make this better for us anymore.” He is terrified that his most terrible and painful truth is that he would force himself to remain trapped in this purgatory with her, despite everything else, for Sarah. He is the man that he is, after all. One who is acutely aware that when you try to force yourself into a shape you were never meant to be, it turns you into an angry thing – embittered, cruel, despondent. It’s what they had done to each other.

She goes quiet, almost deflates, “No. I’m miserable. You’re miserable. You’re in love with another woman.”

He can’t say anything at that – the mention of you in this terrible space they’re creating with their words and their anger feels wrong. You don’t belong here. Although, he has the sudden flash of a thought that part of him wishes very much that you were here right now anyways, sitting in that chair in the corner, if only so that he could turn to look at you, find comfort and strength in your warm gaze. All he can do is nod.

Suddenly, all the fight and venom seems to leak out of her, and she says very quietly, very sadly: “I don’t want to be with you for the rest of my life, trapped here in this place I never should have ended up in, in the first place. I don’t want to be here at all.”

He nods, “It’s your decision. I won’t condemn or judge you for it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to make any decisions for yourself?

“I made my decisions. I’m living with them now.”

“You sound like you’re being punished.”

“Maybe in some ways I am.” You don’t want to be with him anyways, what difference does it make?

“Wouldn’t you like to decide to be with her? Because honey, with three of us it’s a sideshow. You think I don’t know how you feel about her? That I haven’t seen the way you look at her? I’ve known since the start, and I’m glad for you.” And he knows that despite all the rest, she is sincere in this.

“Just three?” he laughs, ignores the rest. “Surely there’s more of us than that.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re funny?”

“You really think there’s anything about this I find funny?” he spits, anger surging up inside of him again, hot and bright. “I suppose it’s laughable. We sure have turned ourselves into one big fuckin’ joke. But I don’t think we’re the ones that should be laughing.”

“No… you’re right… we’ve turned each other into such sad and terrible creatures,” she says then.

“Maybe. If so, I’m sorry for that. It’s not what I wanted.”

“No– me either. None of this was.” And he knows she means Sarah. She’d never wanted Sarah, but he can’t focus on that now or perhaps, ever. Sometimes it was just easier to not look at a thing, to swallow it and pretend it’d never existed. He closes his eyes and brings a shaking hand up to drag down his face.

“This is a broken marriage,” she says.

And he knows it is true. “Yes.”

“No true marriage at all.”

“No.”

“It is no great loss.”

“But it still hurts.” Also the truth. It hurts him for his daughter, for the breaking of a family – even theirs, as elusive or damaged as it was.

“Only because you hate to fail at anything.” There is so much resentment in her eyes, and he can’t tell whether it’s for him or for herself or for the entire fractured thing. He so wishes that he could have done things differently, that things had happened differently. But then, if things had happened differently, he, perhaps, would not have Sarah now, and she was worth all of this, she had always been worth all of this.

He shakes his head. “Because we have a daughter together.” He feels so interminably sad for the both of them. For all they cannot and have not had. For all Sarah will not have.

“Was it really ever together? She’s yours. She’s always been more yours than she ever was mine. I don’t feel bad or wrong saying that. Some women aren’t meant to be mothers. Some women have children when they aren’t meant to be mothers. This is not a sin. I am not made evil by my lack of maternal instinct. I love her. I do. Despite whatever you may think, I do, I always have. But I was never supposed to have children. I was never supposed to be a mother. It was never in my nature. And anyways, it’s why she has you. She’s never needed me because she’s always had you.”

He looks down the dark hall towards his little girls room. They’d put up those glowing sticky stars on her bedroom ceiling this afternoon and construction paper butterflies they’d cut out together, hanging from fishing line between the stars. When she woke up tomorrow he didn’t think she’d have her mother here anymore, would not have her by her side, probably, for a very long time, if ever. How was he supposed to tell her that? How was he supposed to help her through that? He didn’t know if he had the strength, the intelligence, to navigate such a difficult thing. But he didn’t have a choice either. He’d have to find everything she needed from him somehow, somewhere – he would.

“Every little girl needs her mom… but she also needs structure in her life, stability – she deserves to have that. You need to make a decision, a real one, for her sake. I won’t have her waiting by the phone, watching out the window for you for years and years.”

“I won’t be coming back this time,” and although he was expecting it, already knew, he still flinches, like a bullet punching through the space in his heart where he holds Sarah. He nods anyway. “I do– please, I do want you to know that I’m sorry. That I wish it was different. Please, tell her that, tell her to forgive me.”

He wonders why it is, that in the equation of crime and absolution, forgiveness is always the faction that is most readily expected – demanded even? Despite the hurt being something so, so terrible. But he promises that he will, anyway.

Eva’s gone the next morning.

Two weeks later, he gets divorce papers in the mail, and he tells Sarah that her mother will not be returning this time – cradles her little body in his arms with equal measures of as much gentleness and strength as he can muster while she cries.

Chapter .8

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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faroreskiss · 9 months

Text

The Power of Understanding / Pilot (Part 1 v2)

Rewritten to v2 on: 2023/09/10

Cheat Sheet

Read of Ao3

Chapters: Pilot, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Summary: You have been with the Chain for a while now, as their "scholar" and translator. You know everything about them, because you are from our world. But do *they *know the truth about how you can understand everyone?

A little introduction and world building concept for the Translator!Reader and her adventures. Check notes below for more info!

Non-linear fic.

AU fic, prior to TotK (instead of TotK, chain events happen).

Loosely based on the same reader in my NSFW fic, which is a very loose prequel to this one, and a work in progress.

More background info to come, if I feel like it :D

Warnings: None, maybe some cussing, but nothing is censored. SFW content.

Points of interest: This is your thing if you are into the mystery of chain being able to talk to each other. I am an actual trained linguist IRL, hence this HAD to be written!

You were daydreaming in the middle of the day about him again, amidst the smell of horse shit around you, when you're supposed to be finishing the work you have until the end of the day. Or until a new portal pops up to swallow you all to Goddess knows which Hyrule this time. Damned black-blooded monsters. At least, this gave you some break.

You, coming from our own era, have been acting as the scholar of the Chain for the last couple of years, while hopping from world to world with them. Knowing this, Malon put you to work on the books of the ranch, instead of letting you deal with the cows or the horses, even though you really didn’t have anything specific to do with maths. You thought she was being kind to you, not letting you deal with dirty ranch work, you guessed? She was a sweetheart either way.

You wanted to hang out with Twilight at the same time, so instead of using the little study Malon offered, you took the books and went down to the stables. You continued with your own stuff, while he was taking care of the horses.

There was also this little thing: you were the only one who understood every single one of them, (almost) very clearly, comparatively speaking. Sure they could communicate without you just as well, but due to a bunch of coincidences, you were the closest thing to the “translation magic”, if you can call it that. Maybe it was your Hoshi Sato gene*. Maybe it was the fact that you actually stayed with Link & Zelda in the post-Calamity world, around two years prior meeting the Chain**, maybe a bit of magic was also involved. Hylia works in mysterious ways! Did it almost cost you your brain? Yes. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

Some Links, of course, understood each other better than the others, especially when their eras were, linguistically speaking, not that far. Time and Twilight were just fine. Legend and Hyrule were already able to understand each other, even a little bit better than Time and Twilight. Sky was a bit further away and had a “funny way of saying things” (according to the Sailor), almost gibberish, but when you listened and when he spoke slowly enough, you could at least get the gist of what he was trying to say. Wind, Time, and Warriors already knew each other from other “incidents” before the Chain, so they already had a way of communicating.

These worlds also did not have many invasions and wars by “outsiders”, if you don’t count things like the Triforce War, Imprisoning War, Sealing War, and of course, anything that had to do with Demise, Ganon & co. and their horrible reincarnations. This meant, not a lot of language change.

In the end, what happened was that over the two years you have been together with the group, you helped them understand each other better. They adjusted their accents, and somehow warped the Hylian they speak in a way that the group would understand (and especially you), when the dialogue was still within the group. Of course, the Old Man would speak more “naturally” with Malon and vice versa, and some of the chain would adjust better (e.g. Twilight or Smithy) to the language of the era they are in. After some point, communication was not that much of a problem. You learnt it all in the end.

Writing?

Funny enough, Wild, Sky, and Twilight had similar scripts. Time and Wind had more similar writing systems. Wild, Wars, Legend, Time, and Rulie were also better at understanding the scripts of their respective eras. Overall, other than a couple of hiccups, most understood the others’ script to an extent.

And then there was Wild. Also known as “The Cook” nowadays. The rest of the chain didn’t know you called them the Chain in your mind, and had your little nicknames for them. The nicknames most likely revealed a bit too much, and even though most of the secrets were out nowadays… You knew better than to risk more. You have caused enough damage, you would think sometimes. Even though you just couldn’t resist the urge.

Anyway… Wild, his case and communication issues… were complicated.

According to the rest of the chain when you guys first met, whatever he was saying (and vice versa) was almost complete gibberish at first. Some terms and special names like “deku,” “korok,” “Hylia,” “Hyrule,” “rupee,” and such were still there, albeit with a different accent, and they helped, but it was not enough. You only found out later that it was kind of… your fault.

In the end, he was also able to communicate with them just fine. Each Link had their own… language variation and accents, so to say. Some of them did not even have the difference enough to call it a “dialect” comparatively. As you thought, language change is a slow enough process, and with the lack of ‘conflicts’ (for lack of a better word) compared to your world, no wonder they were still somehow able to understand each other. .

The Goddesses work in mysterious ways indeed.

How did it work for you, though? There was this little secret that… First time around, when you first dropped into Wild's Hyrule, “Hylian” was basically a weird mesh-up of English and Japanese to your ears, after the enchantment from the Great Fairies you have received. It was “so you could slowly understand and grasp and communicate”, you were told.

Oh boy, it really felt like a genie granting you a wish, but in its own twisted way. You found that out later though.

Second time around when you first met the rest of Links, though? The first enchantment… kind of messed everything up. Second time around, you actually ended up learning real Hylian. At least, the Hylian that was used as a lingua franca between you guys.

Of course, some learning skill enchantment was definitely not out of the deal this time as well, thanks to Rulie & Time and their fairy friends, and of course the Smithy. But what a disaster it had been! Well, it wasn’t your fault that the first time the enchantment was made, nobody calculated that you would meet the Links from other eras.

You also naturally know the reason behind why Links in kind of irrelevant eras could decipher each other's texts, even when they didn’t understand the words all the time. Some were based on the Latin alphabet, and some were on Japanese kana. No way you could clearly explain it to them.

“Oh, by the way, you are made by a game company called Nintendo, and this guy is called Miyamoto…”

Yeah, no. That didn’t go well last time. Nobody even understood what you meant.

That was a battle to fight for another day… Now, you need to focus on the budget of the Lon Lon Ranch. And not be distracted by Twilight’s statue.

________________

Notes:

Fanciest and most OP translator you will ever know. Star Trek Universe.

"You” already spent three years with Link and Zelda in Wild’s world and were enchanted by the Great Fairies (with Zelda’s involvement) for the improvement of learning abilities.

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