#chapter 1 it's raining somewhere else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizardaggro · 6 months

Text

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst bully!au #twst bully au #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland silver #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia

646 notes · View notes

piratesfromspace · 4 months

Text

After the rain (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Soap (& implied Reader x 141)

Rated: Mature

Word count: 900

Summary: After being kidnapped and rescued, Rain needs to make sure Soap is still alive

Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, it is the epilogue of the part 4. Some people requested this chapter, and I was happy to write a little something to offer some comfort to our poor Soap. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, medical setting, happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Rain has a hard time opening her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she is, she’s slow to wake up, her brain still foggy from the sleeping pills. But then she moves in the bed, and everything starts hurting. Her muscles are so sore, bruises are painfully blooming under her scratched skin. Her head is heavy, throbbing. She feels like she’s been run over by a humvee. With the pain, everything comes back to her in a second. She rises with a gasp, a shot of adrenaline wringing her guts to the point she thinks she’s gonna puke.

The light of day is peaking through the half-opened curtains of her room. She’s back on base, and everything is so vividly painful she’s sure it can’t be a dream. The memory of the past few days invades her - their capture, Johnny’s sacrifice to protect her, her crawling on the floor to rest her cheek against his bloody leg when their captor finally stopped. The sudden thought that Soap might not have survived the torture is suffocating her, she can’t breathe, it’s breaking her mind and her heart. Last she saw him he was laying on the heli floor surrounded by medics.

A flash of white in the corner of her eyes attracts her attention when she finally gathers enough strength to get out of her bed. There is a crisp white strip of paper on her night-stand. It only says “he’s OK” in black ink, and she instantly recognizes Simon’s angular writing. Soap has made it. Tears wet her cheeks without her realizing she’s crying.

—-

She tucks her fists inside the pocket of her hoodie. A black one that belongs to one of the boys, she can’t really tell which one. She keeps her head down, doesn’t want to cross the panicked gaze of colleagues at her face. She’s sporting various scratches, a mean bruise on the side of her jaw, her skin has a sickly yellow-ish undertone - she looks like shit and she knows it.

She crosses the base in a hurried bee-line for the medical bay. She probably should call up her captain for further instruction, report to debrief or go see a doctor. But the only thing on her mind is finding Soap. She had always liked him - it was hard not to, he was funny, kind, quite handsome, always laughing. But she knew that he was growing obsessed with her, and it had frightened her at first. Situations like those could easily delve into unpleasant territories for everyone involved. Except it was Soap, smart-ass Soap, kind-hearted Soap, and he made it work even when it was obvious he was sad Rain had chosen Simon instead of him. After Siberia, things didn't really change, they rather shifted. The group was tighter, Rain was not shy with her attraction to the other guys, with her attraction to him. She let Johnny more into her bubble, into her heart.

And here she is, the wet tracks of tears drying on her cheeks as she leaps through long corridors in search of Soap, when she should get checked for her own injuries, when she should maybe not stay alone like this. Her brain is still drowning in diluted stress hormones and the end trail of painkillers, the mix giving her a distant headache that will probably force her down in a couple hours. For now, she persists.

When she finally finds him, she’s simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find him alone. Ghost, Gaz and Price must be somewhere else, maybe they just went out for a quick break. She doesn’t know how much time she has on her own with Soap, before someone, a nurse, or one of the boys, comes back. He looks like he’s sleeping. Bandages are wrapped around all his visible limbs, snaking around fingers, his wrists, part of his right arm. Around his head also, his already short hair clearly shaved for access to wounds. One of his eyes is hidden by a plastic shell. His lips are swollen, split in a few places. Skilled hands have been at work here, in dressing his wounds, wiping out dried blood, setting up electrodes and drips. It’s easy to forget how simple it is to destroy, and how labor-intensive it is to heal. The regular bip of the heart monitor is the thing that prevents her from spiraling further down. Alive. Her sergeant is alive. No need to explore the devastating thought of him being gone.

She climbs on the bed, finds a place against him. His warmth makes her want to cry again. Her own scratched fingers hover over his cheekbones - the skin there is purple - then over his neck, she needs to feel his pulse under her scorched skin. Alive. She tucks her face next to his shoulder, tries to find the familiar smell under the antiseptic. Rain holds him the best she can without risking hurting him more, and decides that’s all she wants to do for the time being.

That’s how the boys find them when they arrive some time after that. They had been looking for her after Simon had discovered her empty bed. They weren’t really scared. They knew she would be here. Where else? They swore to take care of each other - and that’s what they will keep doing, no matter what.

MASTERLIST

#ghost x reader #cod fanfiction #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #poly 141 #141 fanfic #task force 141 #141 x reader #tf 141 #poly tf141 #polyamory #hurt/comfort #whump writing

121 notes · View notes

chantsdemarins · 3 months

Text

New Fic: Breath of the Æsir ⚔︎🏰 (Loki X Reader)

Formally (Collapsing in the Arms of Chaos) I changed the name. 😬 I know Medieval stories aren't everyone's fav but heck, I hope you like it! It has been brewing in the coffee pot that is in my head for over a year. I feel slightly self-conscious that after my first time with COVID, my brain is not the same. I hope I still have my ability to write! My last story published a few weeks ago was written while I was falling ill and I know it wasn't my best!

Thank you for reading!! If you want to comment I would be so happy and reblogs are like the most precious thing to me. All art is mine, it's a Photoshop-crazed situation.

Summary: Disenchanted with the Danes' misuse of Norse gods to sanction their brutality, Loki finds himself ostracized. Stripped of his divine powers and bearing a severe injury, he wanders into the realm of the conquered. By a twist of fate, he arrives at your manor, where you await your husband's return. However, destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Blood.

Words: 2,471

Smut rating: Not yet...but there sure will be!

Posting schedule: Every Saturday! I am going to stick to this!

Chapter 1 The Embroidery of Destiny Chapter 2 The Stranger Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

@lokis-little-fawn @lcolumbia1988 @thesoftboiledegg @anukulee @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @nildespirandum @caffiend-queen @mochie85 @maple-seed @mischief2sarawr @kikster606 @thedistractedagglomeration @glitchquake@simplyholl @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @muddyorbs @vickie5446 @trickster-maiden @grymrayven

Before your family settled again, you had been travelers, moving from one darkened patch of earth to the next. Soil on your boots muddied your paths, creating difficulties in finding a home. There were many things to see, some horrors, some things magical and unfounded. Shapes shifted in the forest where you camped at night. One day your father showed you where they lowered men into the bogs, decorated with bronze. These were not the ways of your people. They did not worship like that. It might have been too much for you to know where some ended up when they were no longer living, not in graves or on pyres. Something else.

By the time you reached the northern lands, your family had negotiated your belongings down to just what the pallid horses could carry. Your croft was built into the very earth you had struggled to cross, with bedrooms burrowed into the side of a hill. It was not built for so much rain. Buckets and sluices were not enough to keep out the floods.

So, when your husband came to marry you, you packed your things neatly, placed them in a pack, and left your parents’ home without drawing a breath. You walked a distance far greater than any you had as a child to his family's land, your new home. The way your family had negotiated the marriage remained a blind spot in your mind. You couldn't fathom it. From a croft to a manor.

Over time, nothing in your marriage seemed to flourish. The land, though beautiful, yielded nothing you sowed. Too sandy or too chelated, perhaps unfortunate timing. You became a wife in the loneliest ways. No spinning of yarn would produce a cloth finer than the wool you began with. Hours of practice composing embroidery resulted in nothing more than half completed sea escarpments, knots, and birds with no flight.

The elegant window that surveyed the tenants' labors only deepened your isolation. They carried on with their duties, and you retired to your quarters, curtains drawn. The chill from your childhood followed you here. The stone walls held a dampness no fire could dispel. You knew somewhere across the hills where your parents still sleeping too close to the earth. Rooms still flooded. Though your loyalty never wavered, even as your husband wandered afar, absent for days at a time, his pursuits as obscure as the horizon beyond your room filled with half-finished tasks.

In kindness or disappointment, he had ensured your education extended beyond your lowly beginnings. Through travels and courtly audiences, barons and other titled men and women recounted their lives' poetry over each glass of mead or wine. You listened for moments when they forgot their lines, most days this was more interesting than their images they wanted you to see.

Although had you not met Isolde of Easting, you would not have thought to plant the spiky yellow gorse along the manor's borders. When the proper conversation waned, you had discovered the titled people still spun tales of their lands. The places they had come or been uprooted from. In the best conversations, you gleaned knowledge of the plants, herbs, and tokens from the first peoples, their ways overshadowed by the new cultures but nonetheless seeming to flow from them to you during the quieter moments—the men away hunting, the embroidery thread running low, the teapot empty. These things were spoken of in hushed tones so the servants would not get ideas.

You spoke of the hawthorn tree, the ravens' work, the swords warriors cast into the cold estuary, found along all the lakes' shores. The Roman merchants who brought tales of Jesus and his cross. The god Woden came from the Angles, and Odin, from the North. Their wars and bloodshed filled the spaces between village homes and now the courts. If asked if you prayed to the Christian god, you couldn't say. You longed to speak of the place where they lowered men into the bogs, the place your father once showed you. Later, in the quiet of your room, you would pull out a relic from beneath the blankets in your chest, and it would look unrecognizable. It once held meaning, but that meaning didn't travel with it.

Sometimes when you were awake much too early, the nightingales still singing, you would dip your quill into the small pot of black soot. You would unroll a small piece of parchment, discarded by the cooks, and write down your dreams. Which had room in your sleep since they were so often unimpeded by the presence of your husband. You wrote in the lais of the Frankish people, counting eight sounds to the line, braiding your dreams with your words.

Had I found a small shell, not rope I would have held it to my ear The ocean's song would have come to me Instead, I was swallowed wholly

This was how things proceeded until the day they did not.

As you came to learn, in the void and closeness of life, nothing is reliable enough to expect its continuation the next day. You should allow for change to slip through the crevices of even the dampest chambers. It just had not happened in so long you almost did not recognize it when something remarkable unfolded at your manor.

On this day, as you sipped your tea, with half-finished yards of cloth draped across your lap, and the unopened book of hours on the small, worn table, your gaze was fixed on the wind billowing the emerald curtains—silk from an era long past, traded by hands unknown. Like much of the decor in the manor, these were vestiges of your husband's family's trade in finery, symbols of their stature akin to that of minor kings.

Elinor, your companion for the last 10 years, rapped on your door abruptly, breaking your contemplative gaze.

“My lady, please excuse me,” she croaked, as the door opened before you could arrange a pretext to delay her entry.

“What is it, Elinor?” you asked, not wishing to dwell on the trivialities of the manor that day. Clearing her throat, she reported urgently of a man in a bad way, injured and lying on the steps. She hastened to your window, the portal to the land beyond your manor, and pointed to the makeshift courtyard where a man lay seemingly lifeless if not for the faint moan you heard.

“Why have you not sought my husband or some other man of decisions?” you questioned with a twinge of fear edging into your refuge of solitude.

“Lady, your husband has traveled beyond into the land of the Scots, and the aldermen are not present either,” she informed you.

“A household of women only, then? How did I overlook such an event?” you pondered.

“Lady, you are often engrossed in your own pursuits within these walls. How could you have noticed your husband's departure?” Elinor reasoned, her words not easing the panic now fully upon you. The thought that your husband had left you unprotected added another layer of anguish.

“At such a time, Elinor, how shall we defend ourselves?” you barely articulated.

“I suspect he gave little thought to the matter,” Elinor replied, her head bowed even lower than her subdued voice.

“Then it falls to me to act in their absence,” you reasoned. Not wanting this conflict or the talk that may ensue you knew you must act quickly. This man perhaps knew your husband, or perhaps it was only a small political scuffle that may have resulted in his injuries. You thought of the many reasons he could have ended up at the steps of your manor of this day. None of them added up entirely.

As you navigated the long, narrow corridors, your thin morning jacket provided little relief from the chill as Elinor aided you with the heavy door. You both stood in awe of the man at your feet. Having seen men before, chiefly your husband. This man’s appearance was now shocking at close view. He was unlike your husband in all ways you could imagine.

“Holy Jesus save us,” Elinor yelled through her missing teeth.

“He will not assist with this, Elinor,” you responded, your eyes surveying the severe wound from his stomach to his chest, the dark blood pooling around his lean form.

The man’s hair was a shade darker than the darkest night. Had night possessed more depth, it would resemble the hue of his locks. His attire suggested nobility, which only intensified the chill you felt. He had clearly been bested in whatever skirmish he had come from, and with no healer at hand, it seemed likely that a burial might soon follow—until his eyes fluttered open.

A striking blue that drew your own darker gaze, hinting at his foreign language or origins. His hand reached out feebly before falling back to his side.

He whispered faintly, “Ásjá.”

“He's alive!” you declared, as if the statement itself could reverse his fate.

“Yes, lady, he lives, I told you. Now what shall we do?” Elinor asked, concern evident in her voice.

“We save him. It is the right thing to do,” you answered.

“But without a healer, we risk much by sheltering him,” Elinor’s voice trembled.

“Then we shall tend to his needs ourselves,” you declared, your courage unusual, unfounded, drawn from the same well that had seen men saved from death at a distance. An instinct came over you. You directed Elinor to gather wood, cloth, herbs, and other necessities that seemed more from your imagination than any practical experience. You quickly cut away his clothes, exposing the dire wound more fully.

“Lady, he may not survive this,” Elinor observed with a somber tone. The unhinged flesh flapping against the seemingly unended torrent of blood emerging from him. How could there be so much blood.

“Silence, Elinor,” you hushed her. Your hands, though failed in the art of tapestry, were adept with needle and thread. So much failure had given you courage.

“We must stem the bleeding before we can stitch him up,” you instructed, asking for a branch from the fire.

“Lady, you cannot—” Elinor began, but you had already pressed the smoldering wood to the wound. The man awoke suddenly, thrashing in pain.

“Hold him down!” you ordered. Elinor, small but determined, restrained his arms.

You envisioned repairing his injury as if it were the "Galley of the Titan’s Moons," a rare piece of embroidery from the northern lands.

“I shall map the night sky upon your body, sir,” you said, speaking into the silence as he drifted further from this world. You sensed the ancestors gather, ready to welcome him, but you were not ready to let him go.

“No, not yet” you whispered, a soft rebuke to the invisible presence.

Elinor looked at you, puzzled. To whom were you speaking?

You were determined. This man would not die. Though you had sent for a proper healer, your task was to keep him alive until they arrived, hoping they would be sober enough to be of use. Much worse would be a drunk priest should your help not find any healer available.

It was not until you had finished suturing his wound that you noticed how his body appeared in the dim light of the great room. Your loneliness resonated with the landscape of his injury. It was a peculiar reaction, but there was something else broken within this man, beyond the sword wound. It was something familiar to your own. You held you own stomach for a moment, it felt as if you were the one almost slain, not him.

Eventually, his bleeding ceased, and the healer arrived, tended to him with poultices and what looked like grain spirits. You wrapped your furs around his sleeping form. He did not pass away. The stranger in your home survived. You had been told he might still not make the night. You watched him for as long as your eyes could. His faint inhalations mirrored in your own. But the exhaustion took over, and before you could retreat to your own chamber, you found yourself lying at his side.

“How improper, Lady!” Elinor’s voice pierced the quiet as dawn crept in and your eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep beside the stranger. Startled, you rose, wrapping a blanket around yourself. Quickly finding a reason that you had slept at his side.

“He remains unconscious, Elinor. The healer was unsure if he would wake,” you confided in the servant who had been by your side for so many years. She looked briefly placated. Yet you knew her mind was racing. The healer would tell the burgh folk of this strange man. Your husband was nowhere to be known. Northman had recently been subdued with heavy piles of church silver, and that arrangement was delicate at best. They would be back and this time they would perhaps sack the village since you knew the last of the silver had been promised away to visiting bishops and clergy. The wealth had run its course.

“He must stay until he awakens, until he can speak for himself,” you quickly decided.

It was better to know who he was. He would surely tell you since you saved his life.

“But what if he is a demon, my lady? Have you considered that he may have come from Hell to bring us further misfortune?” Elinor ventured, instantly regretting her words as her face contorted with shame.

“I apologize. I did not mean to imply you are cursed,” she hastily added.

You felt pity for Elinor, she was not as traveled as you had become. Had not the stories you knew, but you also could not see beyond, you had no way to know if it was safe to keep him with you. If your husband should arrive back, there would be no way to convince him that this man had not abused you in some way, but you did know something of him. There was something you did recognize.

“This man is no curse, no demon,” you affirmed, your gaze fixed on his hair, as dark as the ink with which you wrote.

“How can you be certain?” she queried.

“He spoke in the old tongue, asking for aid. Did you not hear him, Elinor?” you questioned, your voice steady.

The woman stepped back, tossing another log onto the fire, her confusion apparent. “I did not recognize the language, nor do I understand how you did,” she admitted.

The language was familiar to you, it was the tongue of your people from so long ago. From the place of your birth. The place that was destroyed till there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 2 below!

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x reader #mcu #norse mythology #medieval fanfic #AU loki #tom hiddleston

119 notes · View notes

cablecar-s · 18 days

Text

to love and self loathe

Note :

I also have an AO3 if you guys wanted to check it out 👉👈. It's just tlsl again (it's like two chapters ahead but I plan to post the rest of the chapters here too, just thought I would share it somewhere else :]).

Reblogs and likes help a lot as well! Enjoy reading!

Part 1

And Make It Double

Jason wasn't fond of going to the Batcave often. Hell he didn't like going to Wayne Manor at all. It only meant that he had to see the others. Even though he was able to reconcile with everyone, it didn't mean that it wasn't still awkward to interact with them all.

But whatever it was that he found in that alleyway couldn't be ignored. So, instead of heading to the batcave where he has to face everyone, he instead links his comms with Barbara.

"You there Oracle?" His voice, distorted from the voice modulator installed in his helmet called out.

"Oracle here, need something Red Hood?" Her voice called back.

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips, a bit of nostalgia and reminiscence washing over him for a moment.

"I have a bit of a problem here." Jason looked over at the knocked out men, strung together with the mysterious webs.

"Do you need backup?" She questioned.

He shook his head, though she couldn't see it. "No, just a concern if anything. Found a few guys strung together what seemed to be.. Spider webs? I don't fuckin' know."

It went quiet for a moment, Jason looking around, making sure no one was going to jump him.

"Found something." She hummed, earning Jason's attention. "Couldn't find anything spider related in Gotham, but there's a vigilante in New York that goes by Spider-Woman, could be that."

The second Robin's brows furrowed. "The hell is she doing in Gotham?"

"No clue, but reading through the latest news it says that she's been gone for a few months already, after defeating some guy named Green Goblin." Her eyes quickly skimmed through the article.

"Is she trouble?" He questions, his attention being pulled towards one of the men who were beginning to wake up.

"The Daily Bugle says she is.." She trailed. "Though from other sources people are calling her a hero. Lot of mixed opinions about her from New Yorkers. She's done nothing bad though."

Jason only hummed, taking his gun out before hitting the waking criminal in the back of his head with the butt of his gun, knocking the guy out once more.

"No crimes or anything? What about suspicious movements before her disappearance?" He asked further.

Barbara let out a small hum. "Nope. She had been terrorizing a few criminals who all had similar characteristics for some time, but that was in the beginning of her first appearance. And after she defeated the Green Goblin she disappeared after that night."

"Revenge." Jason thought out loud to himself, that was the only conclusion he could come to. "Think she came to Gotham to see if she could find the guy here?"

"Doubt it. It's been a few years already, I'm sure she's over it by now."

Jason also doubted that she was over it, he would know; he was dead set on revenge for seven years. A grimace appeared on his face, seeming to stare into nothingness, remembering how he was before he was barely able to reconcile with Bruce and the others.

"You still there Red Hood?" Barbara called out, breaking him out of his small trance.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, just thinking." He muttered. "Call GCPD over to pick these guys up. They're in one of the alleys on 41st street."

"On it."

Taking out his grappling hook, Jason flew off into the night, still linked with Barbara.

"What do you want to do with Spider-Woman?"

"Lets keep an eye out for her, we still don't know her motives for coming to Gotham." Jason swung from building to building, beginning to feel water droplets fall on his body, the rain of Gotham finally coming for the night.

"Alright, I'll notify the others about her now."

"Sounds good, thanks Oracle." He perched himself on one of the gargoyles that were built on one of the many buildings of Gotham, about to hang up til—

"Hey Jace." Barbara called out softly.

Oh god. Jason already knew what Barbara was going to ask him, it made his throat close up a bit, his heart rate beginning to pick up.

"Ye-ah?"

Of course his voice had to fucking crack.

"Will you be coming to the mansion to celebrate Damian's birthday next week?"

Jason stayed silent for a moment. Of course he was going to go, he had already bought the demon brat's present a few days ago, it was just a matter of gaining the confidence to step foot in Wayne Manor.

"Still there Jason?" She called out.

Crap he took too long.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah I'll– I'll be coming." He cleared his throat, his eyes scanning into the streets of Crime Alley.

"Okay, just double checking." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Everyone'll be excited to see you, don't sweat it." She assured him. "Need anything else before I go back to the others?"

He swallowed hard, trying to retain whatever cool he had left. "No, I'm fine."

"Alright, Oracle out."

Her voice crackled before leaving the line, which left Jason alone with his thoughts.

God he was so not ready for next week

---

The next night, Jason had kept a sharp eye out for this Spider-Woman Barbara had told him about. He'd done a bit of digging himself. He watched a few videos that a few civilians had taken of her. He studied her fighting style, what she looked like.

Of course, he tried to find out who this Spider-Woman was in the first place, but it seemed no one had any clues as to who she was.

It's fine though. It's not like Jason was actively searching as to who she was, he just needed to make sure she stayed out of his way, out of Gotham's business.

Swinging from building to building once more, Jason kept his eyes on the alleys and small streets before deciding to land on the roof of a building. His boots crunched under the gravel when landing, a more softer crunch sounding behind him.

"Todd." The young voice called out.

A voice he knew all too well.

"Demon bird." Jason greeted.

"I am told that you will be making it to the gathering." Damian stood next to his older brother, looking down at the city with him.

"If you mean your birthday party then yeah." The second Robin couldn't help but roll his eyes a bit. "Just not the big one B will be holding. Y'know, still dead and stuff."

The youngest Robin could only suck his teeth. "Not like you were needed there anyways." He muttered.

Jason glanced over at the pre-teen, a small smile on his lips as he brought his hand up to ruffle his hair. He could spot his tough guy act from miles away, he and Damian were two sides of the same coin after all.

"Sorry, someone's gotta keep Gotham safe while all the bats and birds are out partying for the night." He chuckled.

Damian only swatted at Jason's hand, grumbling to himself.

"I do not care if you come or not." He muttered.

Jason couldn't help but smile slightly at this, pulling his hand back.

"Whatever you say."

Damian opened his mouth, ready to make a retort, but he only sucked his teeth once more, his hand going up to his ear.

"Robin present."

There was a brief silence, the young Robin seeming to be listening to what was being said to him. "Understood." He muttered.

"I am needed at a warehouse." He looked up at his older brother who only nodded, seeming looking down at the streets.

"Alright. See you later." Jason's eyes were glued on a woman who seemed to be in a hurry, a few plastic bags hanging from her arms. From afar, he saw a few men stalking her a few feet away.

He began to make his way down to her, standing behind her in the shadows. She didn't seem to have noticed him just yet, seeming distracted with trying to take a picture of the Robin flying above her.

Though as she takes a step back and bumps into his chest, she slowly turned around, taking notice of the vigilante that towered over her.

Jason squinted his eyes behind his helmet as her phone let out a soft click and the flash had gone off.

His helmet scanned her body, a small box popping at the top right, showing him that her heart rate had slightly quickened, not surprising.

"You do know you make a pretty easy target with all those bags you're holding." He spoke, his voice distorted as usual.

"Good thing I was making my way home then." She chuckled nervously.

She had stared at where his eyes were supposed to be, only to then look away, her heart rate rising even more.

"I'll go with you then, unless you want them to take you instead." He nodded his head behind her, making her turn her head and see the men.

Jason took a step into the dim street lighting and stared straight at them, making the men quickly scatter, not wanting to be involved with the infamous Red Hood.

"Oh uh, no that won't be necessary." She let out another nervous laugh. "My apartment isn't that far from here and uh..." She glanced up at the Red Hood before quickly looking away, intimidated by his large build and towering body.

It was quiet, Jason staring her down. He couldn't lie she was acting a bit suspicious, though then again it could be her being frightened since it was Red Hood who was standing in front of her.

"You're not serious are you?" He finally spoke out. "Gotham's filled with criminals, and no offense, I'm sure you're capable of defending yourself, but you're a woman. You're better off with me walking you home." He crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one leg.

He was right. Although she could handle a few thugs, she didn't bring her web shooters with her this time. If any of them decided to pull a gun on her, it was most likely over.

The secret vigilante stayed quiet, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something else to say, just so she didn't have to interact anymore with the more scarier of vigilantes she's looked up.

"Uh well.." She cleared her throat, looking up at him, trying her best to calm her racing heart, her senses heightening from her anxiety.

She thought hard, looking at the man who stared at her, waiting for a reply from her. Her brain did it's hardest to rack something up, until she remembered all the news she's read about him.

Bingo.

"Wouldn't it be more dangerous if you were to walk with me?" She questioned, giving him an innocent smile.

He tilted his head a bit at this. "Is that so?"

The spider quickly nodded, her smile ever growing a tiny bit more larger at her quick thinking. "If you think about it, if people on the street were to see you walking me to my apartment wouldn't that technically endanger me even more? Since, y'know, you are the big bad Red Hood. I'm sure you have plenty of enemies that want your head."

Her hands moved around a bit as she talked, Jason only watching and listening to her ramble in slight amusement.

"And if they were to see you walking me home then they can only think that I'm some sort of weakness for you, which, I'm really not but hey they don't know." She chuckled, looking up at him.

Her long pause made the air almost seem a bit awkward for her, making her shift a bit. Letting out another laugh, she cleared her throat once more, straightening her posture a bit.

"So.. Thank you, truly. But I think I'll be just fine going home without an escort." She smiled, trying not to squirm under his gaze.

"Alright." He hummed, setting his hands on his waist.

She blinked, looking a bit baffled. "Really?" She sputtered, before quickly changing her expression, the tone of her voice changing as well. "I mean– Of course! It's only right that you—"

"I'll just watch you from the rooftops instead."

"I'm sorry?"

A distorted huff of amusement filled her ears as the two vigilantes stared at each other.

"You're right that me walking you home would only but yourself in more danger, but leaving you to go home by yourself also puts you at risk still, so," Jason grabbed his grapple from his utility belt.

"I'll escort you from afar."

Jason's amusement only rose as he watched the woman open and close her mouth, trying to form words or another excuse as to why he shouldn't do that.

Seeing as how she wasn't able to come up with anything else, a low and short chuckle left his mouth.

"Well lets get going then. The faster you start walking the faster you'll be out of danger." He pointed his grapple at a building, his finger beginning to press the trigger.

"You really don't—" But he was already flying into the air and back into the shadows.

She could only watch in disbelief, staring in the direction that he had flown off to. If she squinted hard enough, she could somewhat see his silhouette perched on a rooftop.

She strained to see him wave a hand at her, most likely motioning her to get back to her apartment. Letting out a small huff of irritation, she began to walk into the direction of her apartment, muttering under her breath.

It was total silence while walking back to her apartment. Although she would spot a few thugs eyeing her from alleys, once they heard the sound of a grapple and a shadow passing over them, they quickly minded their business, as if she wasn't there.

The woman was thankful to say the least, especially since she was able to get herself out of a situation that may have ended up in her having a brawl with the vigilante. Just looking at him made her entire body ache.

Even if that radioactive spider had increased all her senses and strength, she was sure that man could pummel her into the ground without having to do much.

Continuing to walk through the dimly lit streets, she soon made it to her apartment building, relief flooding in her body that she was finally home. Before entering the building, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the shadows, trying to see if she could spot the Red Hood.

Surprisingly, for a big guy who had a helmet that was completely red, he was good at hiding in the darkness.

Giving up in her search in finding him, she made her way inside, the warm air from the heater engulfing her body once entering.

Off in the distance, Jason watched as the woman made her way inside. With crossed arms, he watched all of the windows of the building, waiting patiently until he noticed one of them had lit up.

Letting out a short hum, he jumped off the roof, grappling to the next one and so forth, continuing his night patrol.

---

Jason quickly put his jacket on, not caring if his hair was still a bit wet. Grabbing his keys he had tossed onto the coffee table, he scooped his helmet into his arms before roughly shoving it onto his head. Slamming the door that led to the garage of his safe house, he pressed a simple button that made it creak and groan as it lifted itself off of the ground.

Getting on his bike, the two wheeler roared to life, the sounds echoing in the garage as he sped out, the doors slamming itself shut once Jason was out. Speeding through the streets, passing by cars at a speed too fast, Jason had hoped that he wouldn't be too late for the brat's formal birthday.

Jason wasn't fond of any of the parties that Bruce either attended or hosted. The room that it was being held in always reeked of tacky perfume and cologne, just like every person there trying to please Bruce.

A bunch of ass kissers that irritated Jason. He was sure Damian thought the same, so he thought making a small appearance would make it slightly better, even if it costed him drowning in old lady perfumes.

When he had made it to the Batcave and tried to sneak his way through the halls of the manor, he had a small run in with his favorite, and only, butler. After a small catch up, and a bit of coaxing from the butler, Jason ended up having to attend the party without his gun.

Taking a deep breath, Jason entered the ballroom having to squeeze his way through a few people in order to make himself comfortable in a corner.

With his back leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and scanned the room before it landed on Damian; his cheeks were currently being pinched and pulled at by a few elderly ladies.

Jason couldn't help but slightly snort at the scene, amused at how deadly a glare Damian was giving them when they looked away from him.

"Jaybird!"

Jason's smile instantly disappeared at the resounding voice of his older brother. A bright smile on his face, he waved at the second Robin, having grabbed to champagne glasses on his way over to him.

People glanced at Dick, whispering to one another about the eldest, their eyes soon dragging over to Jason who shifted uncomfortably.

Just fucking great.

"I see you were able to make it." Dick grinned, lending out the other glass of alcohol to him. Jason only snatched it from him, letting out a small grumble while taking a small sip.

"And I'm starting to regret it." He grimaced.

The first Robin only chuckled at this, taking his own sip from his glass. "You see Damian yet?" He questioned, eyes staring out into the crowd to find the youngest.

"I was, but then I saw that he was a bit busy so I decided to leave him be." He hummed.

Once finding Damian, Dick couldn't help but snicker a bit now knowing what Jason meant. "He is the star of the show." He mused. "Hey, you don't think—"

BOOM!

"No one make any sudden moves! Or the brat gets it!"

part 1

next chapter ->

#dcu #dc universe #jason todd #batfamily #to love and self loathe #red hood #jason todd x reader #x reader #female reader #no y/n #barbara gordan #damian wayne #richard grayson #bruce wayne #slow burn #strangers to friends to lovers #spiderwoman reader

28 notes · View notes

zabiume · 18 days

Note

What’s something about bleach that you could talk about for hours ?

ONE WAY SYMPATHIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay. let's backpedal.

chapter 24 of bleach, titled 'one way sympathies' or 'one-sided sympathies,' depending on your translation, is actually one of the greatest bleach chapters of all time. it's probably one of my favorite chapters, and i think it has some of the best, most excellently-executed writing in the series!

first of all, one-way sympathies happens in the memories in the rain volume, which is already a great volume for the way it sets up ichigo's motivations, ichigo and rukia's growing friendship, the kurosaki family dynamic, but also...it's just a good volume. the grand fisher fight is one of the most memorable early fights in bleach, and everything from the cemetery setting to the way the story cuts between past and present is perfectly balanced.

the reason i focus on one way sympathies, though, is orihime.

even though the volume is all about ichigo's relationship with his mother, and, ostensibly, his relationship with despair, the volume opens with orihime's poem, and orihime on the cover. and the reason for it is obvious: kubo spends this entire volume laying down the theme of "rain" for the first time. it's a visual metaphor that will show up several times in bleach, mostly as a way to denote ichigo's despair, but interestingly enough, it shows up again in everything but the rain, well before ichigo is even born.

the thing about the rain and the poem here is that its a clear reference to the tanabata legend, and in case it wasn't obvious, kubo makes it more obvious with a) the poem and b) orihime herself, who is named after the princess in the legend.

even though the grand fisher fight really only has two relevant characters (rukia and ichigo), kubo makes the interesting decision to have tatsuki be narrator as well, with orihime as her confidant in chapter 18.

if you look at the plot, two things are happening at the same time: 1) the kurosaki family, rukia, and kon are at the cemetery (ichigo will go on to fight grand fisher in the next few chapters) and 2) orihime and tatsuki are at tatsuki's house, talking about the event that changed ichigo forever—his mother's death. plot #1 is full of action and plot #2 is just two characters sitting on a bed, talking about the protagonist's past. we could have done without the orihime and tatsuki scene and still had a complete picture of what actually happened on june 17th (as ichigo later narrates it to us, the audience). but having orihime there changes so many things and actually highlights how integral she is to the storytelling in this volume!

orihime's poem always gets brought up because of how it mentions the rain, but it also mentions "earth" and "sky" which are again two visual metaphors kubo uses frequently.

in one-way sympathies, and especially in this page, orihime is on the earth, looking up at the sky. she specifically looks up at the sky as a way to talk to ichigo, who is somewhere else physically, but connected to her emotionally, because she's just heard the truth about his mother's death. she says, "what do i feel for you? kindness? one-sided sympathy? i feel like now i understand you a little better, ichigo." ironically, the rain, which kept the lovers apart in the tanabata legend, brings the characters together in bleach. orihime connects to ichigo's pain and the way kubo shows this is by having her walk home in the rain, an element that connects the earth and sky.

kubo actually uses rain, earth and sky again in everything but the rain, and he uses it in a very similar way to how he did it in MITR. i mean, look at the way both isshin and masaki look at the sky when they're thinking about each other:

it was raining the night isshin and masaki met. again, in this case, the rain has connected two realms that might have never otherwise connected (shinigami and quincy, isshin and masaki).

while the rain itself is full of pain, sorrow, despair, it actually ends up connecting people because they can understand each others' loneliness, their grief, their despair. this is such a clever use of the tanabata legend, where the rain is seen as both agent of separation and agent of union. horrible things have happened in the rain, but connections have been made too! just like the rain connects earth and sky, can two hearts be joined when you let someone in? let them see you at your most vulnerable?

anyway, coming back. the thing about ichigo is that his despair is usually so thick, so heavy, that you could compare him to a cloud!

his despair makes it rain, and his resolve usually dries it back up. you'll often see characters remark how hot it was or how there wasn't a single cloud in the sky until ichigo's despair looms and looms and somehow brings all the clouds together. ichigo's connection with the rain is almost like magical realism in action, and it makes it hard for him to connect to the people in his life truly, even if he really loves them. in that sense, his view of rain is quite traditional to the legend. he can't connect back with anyone when it's raining, which is why i'm guessing the chapter was titled one-way sympathies in the first place.

the great thing about orihime is that she's not afraid of a little rain, and that in itself is such a great metaphor for how attuned she is to ichigo's suffering and how she doesn't mind weathering a few storms with him. it's probably not that deep, but kubo has repeatedly shown her embracing the stormy weather (i feel like walking [in the rain] tonight; even the rain is fun) with an umbrella and a sunny attitude, though i'm inclined to believe it's the latter and not the former that helps her survive the rain. despite ichigo's efforts to push people away, they have all managed to get closer, but it's interesting that kubo includes her here when she's not related to the fight at all. while rukia is an obvious choice, plot-wise, considering her status as ichigo's guide to all things shinigami, the inclusion of orihime seems more deliberate, more purposeful. we could have gone without her, so the choice is all the more blatant here.

to summarize: the way this chapter/volume...

1) uses apt visual metaphors that look striking and contribute to the storytelling

2) showcases ichigo's relationship with orihime, tatsuki, rukia, his dad and his mom all at once by having a tightly focused cast

3) sets up an important metaphor that is going to be used again and again in the future

4) uses myths and fables in an interesting way that doesn't need over-explaining because the imagery of orihime + rain does a good enough job on its own for the learned reader...

5) plants seeds within the ichihime dynamic that will go on to have many evolutions until the end of the manga

....is truly just peak bleach!

#don't get me wrong; there are loads of other chapters that i love just as much for similar reasons #but i'd been thinking about this one lately #it's striking. it's poignant. it's emotional. the chapter even ends with rukia holding ichigo up—which is just sweet #this chapter just feels like an exhale after all the action is over and kubo is really good at 'exhale' chapters #bleach #asks #there's a lot i could talk about for hours when it comes to bleach. ask me on another day and i'm sure i'd have another topic :D

29 notes · View notes

krystelovesanime · 1 year

Text

From Izuku to Katsuki, chapter 119.

I really love this little quite done by Izuku. To me it shows that despite being bullied by Katsuki from kindergarten all the way to their first year at high school, he still admires Katsuki. In my eyes it's so Izuku that I love it. He himself stated int he very same chapter, just a few panels before this: "As and as your bad side was... your strengths were just as impressive,"

He knows Katsuki has a bad side (and all to well sadly) but he seemed to focus slightly more on Katsuki's strengths which he called impressive. Basically, admiration.

Another example of Izuku's admiration for Katsuki is in the final exam mini arc where Izuku and Katsuki were paired up to fight All Might. There was this mini flashback of Katsuki standing for himself against two seniors at the age of 6.

Izuku is seen admiring Katsuki's bravery behind a near by tree, admiring at how Katsuki, like All Might, always wins at the end. Again, he had said that he could only admire All Might from a distance, but Izuku is is here admiring Katsuki just behind a nearby tree.

Izuku's admiration had stirred somewhere around the age of 4 a deepened later on. How I can conclude this, is because, there was another flashback where, the two of them were in a forest, Izuku telling Katsuki how amazing his Katsuki's quirk is. Once again I repeat, admiring Katsuki. I feel that Izuku's admiration shall never stop and that even when Izuku becomes the No.1 hero, all while Katsuki is the No.2 hero, he will still find something amazing about Katsuki.

So you can see how much Izuku admires Katsuki and how significant Katsuki is in Izuku's life, so when in the infamous chapter 362, Katsuki seemingly dies, you can see the impact it brings upon Izuku.

See how his eyes change? From how the light in his eyes slowly but surely disappears as he sees a dead corpse on the floor, and how his pupils vanish the moment he realizes it's Katsuki. He doesn't believe that the person he admires just as much or possibly even more than All Might, is dead. Because he admires Katsuki for Katsuki's bravery, and sprit of always winning. Hence, Izuku's image of victory being Katsuki.

Katsuki has come a really long way as well. From bullying Izuku to 'admiring/accepting' Izuku. I feel his biggest change as a character towards Izuku was when he apologized in the rain, and for the first time in ten years or so calling Izuku by his given name.

How Horikoshi draws and depicts their development by drawing the two of them when they were toddlers, to middle school, then high school, to the moment where he's apologizing, brings forth a mountain of indescribable feelings and emotions. How Katsuki said he looked down on Izuku because Izuku was quirkless, and therefore thought that Izuku was meant to be classified as beneath him.

But even so, he always felt that Izuku was above him, and he hated that. So Katsuki bullied Izuku, to keep Izuku at arm's length,but Izuku kept running and chasing after him, as I have said, because of how much Izuku admires Katsuki. He tried to act all superior by rejecting Izuku, but as he says, he kept losing that fight if trying to act superior. And through out the whole first year at UA, he was forced to realize Izuku's strengths and his weaknesses. And he apologizes, along with saying Izuku's name in front of all his classmates.

For Katsuki to show even some sort of weakness is hard enough but the fact that he willingly and ooenly shows his weakness in front of at least 20 people, is a lot to say on its own. And Katsuki continues by saying how he and everyone else will be there to help Izuku when Izuku can't handle everything on his own.

His apology to Izuku was one of the final pieces needed to bring back Izuku to UA, the efforts of Ochako, Tenya and everyone else in 1A will not go unnoticed. And as Izuku falls from exhaustion, all his emotions starting to cave in, we can how fast Katsuki runs to just catch Izuku from falling.

You can't even see the remainder of Katsuki's leg due to the speed he was running at to catch Izuku from falling, while muttering how he and everyone else in 1A gets how Izuku feels. From how Katsuki used to bully Izuku to now 'admiring/accepting' Izuku shows how far Katsuki has come, and there are still others out there stating how Katsuki has zero character development.

And another thing I should point out is how Katsuki is trying to change his habit of calling Izuku, Deku. Katsuki is trying to make the effort of calling Izuku by his given name, instead of a nickname he had made up that meant how useless Izuku was. Why he stops calling Izuku by his given name was due to him saying, "Deku-Izuku," And Izuku had replied, telling Katsuki that if calling him by his given name was too hard, then he doesn't want Katsuki to force himself to call him Izuku.

And Katsuki took that as a rejection. Therefore, he stopped calling Izuku, well... Izuku, anymore. Until of course the last few moments before Shigaraki crushed his heart, and killing Katsuki.

His final thoughts were about Izuku, his final words were also about Izuku. Katsuki has come a long way from bullying to 'admiration/acceptance' While Izuku has continued to admire Katsuki despite the consistent bullying.

"So Izuku... can I... still catch up to you?"

~Bakugou Katsuki, chapter 362.

This is just my thoughts by the way, I was just merely reading chapter 119 again, and Deku's single sentence just prompted a whole analysis in my mind. It's more of a focus on Katsuki and Izuku's friendship-rivalry than actual bkdk.

#bkdk's friendship #bnha #boku no hero acedamia #mha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #bnha spoilers #boku no hero academia spoilers #mha spoilers #my hero academia spoilers #dekubaku #dkbk #katsudeku #ktdk #bkdk #bakudeku #analysis #my thoughts

379 notes · View notes

burntheedges-updates · 8 months

Text

over again, epilogue: together

Joel Miller x f!reader | 18+ minors DNI | word count: 6.4k

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it) chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, light angst, kissing, pet names (darlin’, baby, honey, pretty girl), Joel calls reader a good girl, neck grabbing (no breath play), light manhandling, grinding, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), deepthroating, light choking, p in v sex (no condom this time, but use a condom, y’all), creampie, praise kink, light anal play, face sitting, if I missed anything please let me know! a/n: I cannot believe this is the last part (this is the +1 - the time they did something about it). I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think!

series main post | series playlist | ao3 ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Epilogue: Together

Austin, December 2002

Almost two years in, and sometimes you couldn’t believe how happy you were with Joel. Almost two and a half, really, if you counted the 6 months you spent getting to know each other but holding yourselves back.

You had a memorable second Christmas together – you stayed with the Millers for your entire holiday break from teaching, only running next door to your house to get random things you needed as they came up. Sarah, then 13, had been excited about it for weeks, though her excitement hadn’t died down after Christmas itself. You weren’t sure why, but she was still practically bouncing off the walls of the Miller household. Joel easily agreed to let her go to a New Year’s sleepover to burn off some of her energy.

A couple of days before New Year’s Eve you came back from a grocery run to an empty house. You knew Tommy had driven Sarah to the mall, but Joel should’ve been there somewhere. You called for him and heard a thump from the backyard, so you set down your bags and wandered out to see what he was up to. You found him up on a ladder, hammer in hand, string lights trailing over his shoulder and already secured in other places on the tall fence around the backyard.

“What’s all this?” you asked, coming to stand beside the ladder to steady it. It had rained earlier, but now it was just foggy and a little chilly. For Texas, anyway. You shivered.

Joel grunted, voice muffled by the nail he was holding with his lips. “I wanted to do something nice for Sarah for New Year’s.”

“Isn’t she going to that sleepover?”

“Yeah, but she’ll be back the next day. Thought we could celebrate it together.” You rested your hand on his ankle and smiled up at him. He was such a good dad, always thinking of little details like this that would brighten her day.

“Need any help?”

“No, I’m ‘bout done. Hey, could you go make us some coffee? Maybe we can sit out here for a bit when I’m done, think about what else we could do to decorate.”

“Sure, baby.” You squeezed his ankle and headed off to do just that.

It took you about 20 minutes to put away the groceries and make some coffee the way you both liked it. By the time you wandered back outside, Joel had finished the lights and put away the ladder. The string lights were glowing softly all around the back yard. You smiled a little, noticing that he’d also put down a large blanket in the middle of the yard and set up the boombox nearby.

“¡Que Bonito!” was playing quietly, but Joel was nowhere to be seen.

“Joel? You out here?”

You whirled to your left, careful with the coffee, as he cleared his throat from behind you, near the door to the house. Somehow he’d managed to sneak in and change without you noticing. He was wearing a black button up and nicer jeans than he had been 20 minutes ago.

Before you could ask what was going on, he walked towards you and took the coffees from you, setting them carefully on the low table the boom box was sitting on. “Come here, darlin’.” He guided you into a slow dance, starting to sway back and forth.

“What’s the occasion?”

He hummed, pulling you closer. “Just dance with me, pretty girl.”

You realized he wasn’t going to tell you, at least not yet, so you relaxed into it. You rested your face on his chest as he rested his cheek on top of your head.

You swayed gently together, and the soft glow of the new string lights made everything feel soft and romantic. You sighed and let yourself sink into him.

When the song ended you felt Joel tense a little. You tried to raise your head, but he suddenly relaxed and tucked your head back to his chest with his left hand. You realized the next track was “Amazed,” and you started to smile.

Sure enough, Joel ducked his head and put his lips right to your ear as he started to sing along softly with the song. You closed your eyes and let his deep voice wash over you.

I don't know how you do what you do I'm so in love with you It just keeps gettin' better I wanna spend the rest of my life With you by my side Forever and ever Every little thing that you do Baby I'm amazed by you

He sang through the first chorus, but then trailed off. He slowly stopped swaying you back and forth. You raised your head, and he let you this time. His eyes caught yours as he stepped back from you, your brow furrowed in confusion as he took a deep breath.

And then he dropped to one knee.

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, eyes wide, as Joel reached into his pocket and revealed a small black box. Your whole body was tingling and you sucked in a sharp breath.

He said your name softly as he opened the box, not breaking eye contact once.

“I was planning to wait until New Year’s Eve, bring you out here at midnight and ask you to spend the rest of your life with me. But when you came home earlier, you looked so goddamn beautiful and so right, here in our home. I couldn’t wait any longer.

“Darlin’, I started falling in love with you standing in my driveway, watching you smile at me and our daughter over those bushes. I didn’t let myself admit it right away, but that’s the truth of it. And then I spent months falling deeper and deeper, sitting with you on your back porch, ‘n every new thing I learned about you just pulled me in more. But I was stuck in my own fear until that day you watched over our girl and took such good care of her and told me you loved her. And I knew it then. I knew you were the one for me, the one for us, and I needed to stop being so afraid to let you in.”

You realized you’d started crying and you wiped away your tears, a huge smile taking over your face. Joel watched you intently and visibly powered through it instead of reaching out to you.

“Every moment with you blows me away, baby. I didn’t think I would ever be this happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you smile just like that, hearing about your day, watching you be a mom to our little girl, holding you when you need comfort, marveling at how smart you are. I want to bump shoulders in the kitchen as we do dishes together and catch you as you stumble when you’re too tired after a night of dancing to make it up the stairs. I want to dance with you every day, even when we’re old and our backs hurt with every step. I want to watch you watch our daughter grow up. I want to see you every morning when I wake up and I want your cold feet to snuggle under mine in bed. I want to spend every night in bed with you, touching you and kissing you and making you come so hard your legs shake.” He grins and winks at you, and you laugh. You can’t help it.

“I love you so much, darlin’. I want to take the long way with you. I want you here, with us, together, for the rest of our days. Will you marry me?”

You flung yourself at him before he even finished the question, and he caught you around the waist, laughing and keeping the both of you from toppling over.

“Yes! I love you so much, Joel Miller. Yes, I’ll marry you. I want all of that too. I want it so bad, baby.” He grinned at you, and you saw he’d teared up a bit too. You were both a mess, teary and smiling, as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

You both looked at it for a moment, stunned, before he took your hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of your fingers with his eyes closed. He whispered, “I never saw you coming, darlin’, you took my breath away from the first moment.” He opened his eyes and when he met your gaze he smiled, slow. “Come here, pretty girl.” He pulled you in by your hand and drew you into a deep, slow kiss that stole your breath. With his left hand at your back he lowered you onto the blanket he’d put out, nestled under the trees.

Joel hovered over you, pressing small kisses all over your face and trailing down your neck. You threaded your fingers through his hair and sighed.

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” He moved to take off your clothes at the same time your hands moved to his buttons. After a bit of laughter and fumbling, both of you were stripped bare, right there in the yard, hidden by the trees. He looked down at you from where he hovered above you on all fours, cock already hard and hanging heavy between his legs.

“Look at you, beautiful. Laid out for me all perfect, wearing nothing but my ring.” He dipped down to pull your nipple into his mouth, and you moaned. “That’s right baby, let me hear you.” He reached over and turned up the volume on the boombox slightly.

You moved your left hand to cup his face, and he immediately turned into it to kiss where your ring sat on your finger. “What do you want, pretty girl?”

You reached down and held his cock lightly in your right hand. You wanted what you knew would drive him over the edge – what always made him lose control. “I want you to fuck my face, baby.”

He groaned, dropping his head to your chest. “Fuck.”

“I want you to come up here and feed me your cock. Come on, cowboy.” You moved your hands to his hips and urged him forward.

“Baby, I want–“ he started to protest.

You pulled his head up so he had to meet your gaze. “Fuck. My. Mouth.” You could see him shudder, his eyes blown wide as his mouth dropped open. He scrambled to do as you asked.

His big thighs came up to surround you, sturdy on either side of your head. You hummed, pleased. He leaned forward to find the right angle and you stuck out your tongue to meet the tip of his cock as it lowered towards your face. He groaned loudly. His hips moved closer, suddenly, like it was out of his control. You opened your mouth and extended your tongue, flat.

Joel was breathing fast, but he lowered his hips perfectly so that the head of his cock landed right on your tongue. You realized he must have been watching and tilted your head back to look. You met his gaze, upside down, his head hanging between his shoulders. He looked completely undone and you’d barely touched him. You smiled as he slowly sank the head of his cock into your wide open mouth.

He groaned as he pushed inside, not too far yet. He knew you loved this, and he fucking loved it too, but he was always a little afraid of hurting you at first. Always cautious. You positioned your mouth and throat so that he could push father, but he pulled back out and you hummed. You reached up and lightly slapped his ass cheek before grabbing his hips to urge him forward.

“Ok, baby, ok. I just don’t want to choke you.” He breathed out a laugh, sounding completely wrecked. You pinched his ass. “Ok, I know, I don’t want to choke you too much.” This time he sank down further and you tried to open your throat to welcome him in. You swirled your tongue over his shaft as the tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck baby that feels so fucking good. Fuck.” He pulled back out and, a bit faster, thrust back inside. You hummed and squeezed your thighs together at the feeling. You were already getting wet.

Slowly, steadily, he started to actually fuck into your mouth. You encouraged him with your hands on his ass and your moans every time he went a little bit farther, a little bit deeper. You could hear him, cursing and murmuring quietly about how good it was, but the blood started to rush in your ears as he settled into it.

You pressed your tongue to the tip of his cock the next time he pulled out and then sucked, hard, on his next thrust. His hips jumped forward and his cock sank slightly farther into your throat. You choked, just a little, and immediately held onto his ass to keep him from pulling out. “Oh baby, your mouth is fucking perfect,” he growled, accepting that you wanted him right there, down your throat, not moving until you let him. “You want to choke on it that bad? You got it, pretty girl.”

He started thrusting a little deeper, pushing the head of his cock into your throat every time. You moaned, encouraging him, and realized tears were streaming down your face. You clenched your thighs together, pussy dripping wet, overcome by the sound and the feeling of him starting to use your throat.

On his next thrust you slipped a finger in between his ass cheeks and his hips stuttered forward, almost sinking his entire cock into your mouth. Joel cried out as you choked and your throat tightened around him, before pulling out suddenly and yanking you up the blanket towards him.

“Holy fucking shit, baby, what did I do to deserve you? Such a good fucking girl for me. You take my cock so fucking well.” He wiped the tears from your eyes and leaned down to lick across your lips before kissing you deeply, tasting himself and groaning loudly. “I need to be inside you, pretty girl.”

“You were, baby.” Your voice was husky, throat a little raw, and he shuddered at the sound.

“Let me fuck this pretty pussy, baby, I want to make you feel good.” He lifted your knees to your chest, opening you up to him. “I need to put my cock inside this perfect little hole. Fill it up.”

“I do feel good, Joel.” You smiled, dreamily, watching him look at your pussy and lick his lips.

“I can see that, honey.” You were sure the look on your face was totally blissed out. It’s how you felt. “I want you to feel even better.” As he said it his fingers moved from your legs to your pussy and he moaned. “You’re so fucking wet, is this just from sucking my cock?” You nodded. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Getting so wet just from having my cock in your mouth. Like I already filled you up and you’re dripping, leaking everywhere. So needy, baby.”

“I love your cock, Joel. Love the way it tastes. Love choking on it.” You reached for him, but he leaned down before you could pull him towards you and licked your pussy, tongue flat, from your hole to your clit. You whined and fisted your hands in the blanket.

“You taste good too, baby. So fucking good.” He lowered his head again and slipped his tongue inside of you, holding you open with his hands behind your thighs. You squirmed, trying to thrust your hips towards his mouth. He twisted his tongue, closed his mouth over your hole, and sucked lightly. You moaned.

He pulled his face away, gasping. “I need to be inside you, baby.”

You nodded, pulling him towards you. His eyes were dark and his gaze burned into you, making your breath stutter.

“I’m going to fuck your so good, honey. ‘M going to fill this tight little hole, stuff it full of my cock, stretch you open and make it mine.” He leaned down and kissed you as the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, your legs still wide open for him.

“It’s already yours, Joel. I’m all yours.”

“That’s right, baby. For the rest of our lives.” With that, he pushed forward and sank his cock inside you, slowly, inch by inch. You threw your head back and whined as his hips met yours. You felt stretched full, a perfect fit. He stopped there and watched you for a moment before leaning down and kissing you, so softly and gently it made your breath catch.

He moved his lips to your ear and whispered, softly, “I am going to ruin this pretty pussy, baby.”

You moaned, clenching down on his cock and twisting your fingers through his hair. “Please, Joel. Do it.”

He moved his face back above yours, giving you a cocky half smile. He pulled out slowly, met your eyes, and then slammed back into you. You could feel your chest heaving as he set a wild pace, strokes fast and deep. You thrust your hips to meet his, panting. He moved his left hand to where it belonged, holding the back of your neck in a strong grip as he held himself up on his elbows.

Joel leaned down slowly towards you, the move totally at odds with the devastating pace he was setting with his cock. You could feel his breath on your lips. He slipped his tongue towards you and brushed it lightly along your bottom lip, teasing you, holding your neck in place when you tried to surge forward to meet him. The soft pressure combined with the feeling of his cock hitting you just right inside made you whine and close your eyes.

“That’s it, baby. You’re always such a good girl, fucking taking what I give you like you were made to do it.” He leaned to the right and nipped lightly at your jaw. You tried to tilt your head to give him more room but his grip on your neck held you in place, right where he wanted you. He shifted his weight to his left elbow, picking up his right hand and grasping your hip to encourage you as you met his thrusts. He scraped his teeth down your neck.

“Being with you feels like a miracle, baby. It’s so fucking good every time. A man could lose himself in this pussy.” His hips stuttered. “Wish I could stay right here inside you all damn day.”

You felt tears forming at the corners of your eyes as he kept his steady pace, fucking into you, holding your body where he wanted it. “Joel, please.” You couldn't help but beg him even though you didn’t know what you were begging for. You scratched your nails down his back, feeling his muscles moving beautifully under his skin.

“Shhh, let me give it to you. Just take it, honey. That’s it. Be my good girl.” You held your breath as he whispered in your ear, as his right hand moved to your clit. He began to dance his fingers over it in time with his thrusts and you suddenly felt your orgasm, which had been building steadily, coming for you like a meteor.

“Joel!”

As you cried out his name, you felt yourself clench around his cock, coming so hard you swore you heard ringing in your ears. He moaned your name, low and guttural, and sank his teeth into your shoulder. His hips stuttered and his fingers pinched lightly at your clit as both of you flew over the edge. His orgasm stirred yours higher and your hands went lax. You saw stars dancing in your vision as he ground his cock into you, almost smothering you with his weight.

His hips stilled, but neither of you moved. You both sucked in deep breaths and tried to slow your racing hearts. You could feel his in his chest, beating strong and fast.

Slowly, Joel lifted his head to meet your gaze. You realized with sudden alarm that he was crying.

“Baby, what–”

He cut you off with a kiss, so soft and gentle it soothed you. He whispered your name.

“How did I get so lucky as to find you, honey?” He spoke right into your mouth, seeming unable to move back, unable to stop kissing you. “I’ve never been so happy. Never knew it could be like this.”

You mustered the strength to move your arms, slipping them around his waist. “I’m the lucky one, Joel. I’ve never been loved this good. No one’s ever come close. I didn’t even realize what I was missing before you.”

He hummed, kissing along your jaw softly. “Maybe we’re both lucky. Sure do fit together like this is how it’s meant to be.” He ground his hips into yours a bit, emphasizing his point. You laughed.

“Well, you know how much I love your cock.”

He smiled, but hid it in your neck, licking and kissing his way down and back up. “Just my cock? I see how it is.” He kissed your ear before biting down on it lightly.

You laughed again, and considered continuing the joke, but you couldn’t. Not that day. You moved your hands up to take his face gently between them, bringing his gaze to meet yours.

“I love you, Joel Miller, every part of you, with all of my heart. I can’t wait to marry you. Every part of me belongs to you and our family. I never want to be without you ever again.” He looked stunned and then he smiled so wide you couldn’t help but return it.

“We’re getting married.” He looked elated as he said it, like he’d forgotten and only just remembered. You grinned.

“Yeah, cowboy, we are. You even swept me off my feet.” You kicked at his ankles a bit, reminding him. He laughed.

Slowly, he reached down to pull out of you, humming as he felt his cum spill out of you with his cock. He fingered you lightly, pushing it around and making a mess. You raised your eyebrows at him and he grinned ruefully. “Ok, ok.”

He moved to the side and laid down, pulling you in so your head was resting on his chest and your leg was thrown over his. He tugged the part of the blanket you weren’t lying on over the two of you, holding you tight against him. You knew you’d want to go inside and clean up soon — you’d started to notice again how chilly it was — but for now you relaxed into his embrace. You were both quiet, reveling in the moment.

“I feel like you should have something, too,” you mused.

“What do you mean?” Joel picked up your left hand from where it rested on his chest and toyed with your ring before kissing your fingers. “I’ll get my own ring real soon.”

“I just want to get you something. Like, an engagement watch or belt buckle or something.”

Joel burst into laughter, eyes crinkling. “A belt buckle? Baby, I don’t think that’s a thing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and tried not to laugh. “Well, we’ll just have to make it a thing, won’t we?” He laughed so hard he almost bounced you off his chest and onto the blanket. You grinned, making a mental note to enlist Sarah’s help to definitely get him an engagement belt buckle – the cheesiest one you could find, and soon.

…

Later, when Tommy and Sarah got home, they found you dancing in the kitchen to the mix CD Joel and Sarah had made you the Christmas before, laughing and singing along to “Forever and Ever, Amen” as you made dinner. Sarah immediately gasped and zeroed in on the ring on your finger before you could even say anything. She screamed and jumped across the room to hug you both.

“Finally! I thought you were never going to do it.” She pinched her dad in the side and he squirmed away.

“Hey! I told you I was planning on New Year’s, you little meddler.” He was smiling wide as he teased her.

“Is this what you’ve been so excited about?” you wonder aloud.

Sarah nodded at you, bouncing on her toes. “We bought the ring a month ago! Do you like it?”

“I love it, sweetheart, thank you. It’s beautiful.” She beamed at you and hugged you again. You laughed, holding on tight. Tommy came in and squished all four of you together in a hug.

“Welcome to the family, sunshine!” He pulled you away from Joel and started dancing you around the room as Sarah and Joel laughed. “You’re stuck with us now.”

You grinned as he spun you around, catching Joel’s eye. “Stuck, huh? But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

...

Jackson, Early Fall 2024

After that night you and Joel can be found together more often than not.

You don’t move in together, not yet – you want Ellie to be comfortable, and that’s more important than anything else.

But you spend a lot of nights in each other's beds.

At first it surprises you, how quickly the two of you fall together again. But it shouldn’t, really. Just like you told Joel, the core of who you are is still the same, and who you are together was always something special. Something that had burrowed so deep inside of you, had become so much a part of you, that you’d mourned a part of yourself when it was lost. You’d assumed it was gone for good, right up until the moment Joel Miller touched you again.

You have some difficult conversations, difficult in the sense that it’s hard for the both of you to talk about some parts of your past. But just like Before, Joel is there to catch you when you stumble over your words, there to hold you when the memories are too strong. You do the same for him.

And when Tommy and Maria’s baby is born in early summer, you’re there for each other for the hard moments and memories that come along with all of the good ones. (Ellie takes to her baby cousin Isabela and the joy of being the big cousin with wonder and enthusiasm – they’re like two peas in a pod of chaos. You still wish Sarah was there every day, but seeing them together heals you a bit, too.)

Later in the summer, once he can come up for air after the baby is born, Tommy shows the three of you the lake near Jackson. Joel takes the opportunity to teach Ellie to swim, which results in a couple of hilarious afternoons with both Joel and Tommy ending up soaking wet when they don’t mean to be. You laugh at them from the grass nearby (or sometimes from the lake, with Ellie).

In early fall, on what seems like one of the last warm days of the year, the five of you go out to the lake. Maria leaves Isabela with her closest friend, taking advantage of the summer weather while you still have it. (You were surprised Maria wanted to come, since no one wanted to bring the baby outside the walls of Jackson, but she just shrugged and said she was getting stir crazy and wanted to spend the afternoon with family, that it would only be a couple of hours, anyway. Her smile was a little too knowing, a little suspicious. You’d narrowed your eyes, sure something was up, but couldn’t figure out what.) It’s a day off from work and school and Ellie bounces along beside you, excited to be out exploring. She’s adjusting well, but still needs to get away sometimes.

You and Joel are walking slowly around the edge of the lake as Ellie and Tommy invent some sort of splashing game with extremely complex rules (that mostly result in Tommy getting soaked and Ellie grinning like a little demon the whole time). Maria just watches and laughs at their antics from her comfortable spot on a blanket next to the lake. Whatever the game is, they’re clearly having fun, and you leave them to it.

Joel takes your right hand in his left, intertwining your fingers and squeezing, and says, “I still can’t really believe it, that we get to have all of this again.”

“I know what you mean. It’s starting to make the 20 years in between feel like a dream, which seems impossible.” He nods, agreeing. “I don’t think either of us will ever be unaffected,” you share a glance and the knowledge that both of you still have nightmares and rough days, “but it seems too good to be true.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. “You know, Ellie pointed something out to me the other day.”

You turn to look at him when he doesn’t say anything more. “Oh?” You elbow him a little to urge him on. He smiles, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“We were talking about Before, and she pointed out that technically, we’ve been engaged for almost 22 years now. You know, we never officially called it off or anything.”

You stumble a little and laugh, wondering where he’s going with this. “I mean, technically, she’s right.”

Joel grins at your reply and pulls you to stop, turning you to face him by grabbing your other hand. “And technically,” he winks, “that’s probably long enough for an engagement. We could probably, well. We could get married, um. If we wanted.” He looks a little shy, somehow, even after everything you’ve been through.

Your breath catches in your throat. And for some reason the question that comes out is, “do people still do that?”

He laughs, crinkling his nose at your question. “Yeah, I asked Tommy. Sounds like at least around here, people still do that.” Of course they do, you realize it as he says it – Tommy and Maria are married, after all.

“I…” you trail off, words leaving you, overcome by a possibility that you hadn't once stopped to consider. He sees how surprised you are and tries to talk you through it.

“You know, there’s not one particular way, sounds like people just do whatever seems right to them, with a few witnesses or sometimes a party at the Bison or something. Something they like.”

Your brain is coming back online and with it the force of your desire to be married to this man. It emerges from somewhere deep within you, pushed down and ignored for so many years because of how much it hurt to think about. You never stopped wanting it, not really, you only stopped being able to have it. It was out of reach for so long that it didn’t occur to you that you could have it now, even with Joel right in front of you, miraculously alive. You start to smile and he straightens up, smiling back and looking relieved.

“It’s just too bad we don’t have any kind of rings, you know?” He continues. You clear your throat, suddenly awkward, and he narrows his eyes at you. He knows you far too well. “What?”

“Well,” you start, “maybe we do have some rings.”

“Rings?” Joel’s eyes go wide as he emphasizes the end of the word, clearly incredulous both at their possible existence and at the idea that there might somehow be more than one ring available to you.

“I might have held something back, from the shoebox.” His mouth drops open and he pulls you closer. “I held onto mine, somehow, never lost it. I didn’t wear it of course, but I kept it close and never had it stolen.” He’s shaking his head in disbelief, looking down at your hands that are still clutched in his own like he might find it there on your finger, somehow unnoticed until now. “And then when I went back to the house, I found them. In your sock drawer.” He squeezes your hands so hard and looks so shocked you worry he might fall over.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a fair question.

“Well, at first it was like the rest of the shoebox – I was just waiting for a good time to tell you about it, and I did as soon as I could. But the rings…” You sighed. “I was trying not to push, you know? You said slow, and I agreed.”

“But we left slow behind months ago, darlin’.” He tugs you in closer, letting go of your hands to move his around your waist. You slide yours up his chest to his shoulders.

“I know, but well, two reasons. One, it honestly hadn’t seemed possible in so long that I sort of… assumed people didn’t get married anymore. And two, well. It seemed kind of fast, to just bring it up right away. Hey, thanks for the mind-blowing orgasms, did you still want your wedding ring? Then I just made it more difficult by waiting and got all in my head about it.” He laughed and pulled your face into his chest, kissing along your hairline.

“You could’ve said that. The orgasm thing. We have been engaged for 22 years, after all.” You can feel him laughing as he says it and for a second you marvel at the idea that it’s something you can both joke about. “Let me help get you out of your head, baby. We can work it out together.” He pulls back and to your surprise, for the second time in your life, Joel drops to one knee in front of you. His hands go to your hips and yours to his arms. He holds you up as your knees suddenly feel weak.

“I can’t beat that first proposal, I don’t think, especially not with our family right over there. So I’ll just say that I love you, darlin’, and I never stopped. I can’t believe I get another chance at spending the rest of my life with you. I’m not letting it pass me by. We were made for each other, after all.” You smile, and feel tears slip down your cheeks, just like last time. He squeezes your hips. “I know it won’t be easy all the time, but I’d rather handle the hard things together than apart. Even when the hard things come from us.”

His eyes are looking a little teary, too, and he says your name softly. “It turns out we really did take the long way ‘round, but I’d like to go the rest of the way with you by my side, however long it turns out to be. Will you marry me, darlin’?”

You say yes, of course. You say yes, and fall into his arms again, just like last time. Joel draws you into a kiss, both of you on your knees, and then laughs when you slide your hand into his back pocket and squeeze.

“We’re too old for me to take you right here on the ground like last time, baby, and we’ve got an audience anyway.” You look up to see Tommy, Maria and Ellie are all watching you, grinning. When you make eye contact with them they start cheering. It’s ridiculous and it makes you tear up again. Joel leans forward to whisper in your ear as they come running towards you, “I promise, honey, I’ll give it to you so good when we get home that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” You shiver.

You rise, just as Ellie arrives and throws herself at you both, getting you all wet with lake water. She smiles at you both and starts to poke at Joel as Tommy walks up behind her.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, sunshine, welcome you to the family a second time? It don’t make any sense.” He grins at you, and pulls you into a hug. Maria is right behind him with another, and you realize that all three of them must have known what Joel was going to ask you today.

Ellie looks up from where she’s teasing Joel mercilessly for being such a romantic. “Hey, why does he call you sunshine, anyway?”

Joel and Tommy start laughing, and you roll your eyes. “Come on, I’ll tell you the story on the way back.”

“Aw come on, it’s not a long story,” Tommy grins as he needles you. He looks at Ellie. “We were at some bar and this guy wouldn’t leave her alone, got so far as putting his hand up her shirt. After she’d already pushed him away a couple times. She was dancing, we were over by the bar.”

Joel chimes in, “She took care of him, though. Didn’t need any help.” He’s grinning.

Tommy nods. “Yeah, it was beautiful. She grabbed him by the shoulders, shouted, ‘watch where you put your hands if you want to keep ‘em, fucker’ and kneed him straight in the di– erm, junk.” Tommy corrects himself, glancing at Joel. Ellie rolls her eyes.

“You can say dick. I’m not a fucking child.” Ellie crosses her arms and frowns at Tommy. Joel sighs, long-suffering, but you know he’s hiding a laugh.

“Anyway,” Tommy shrugs, “the fucker folded in half right there on the dance floor, just fell right over and groaned. Everyone around them turned and laughed at him.” Tommy pretends to wipe a tear away from his eye. “He had to army crawl off the dance floor and creep his way outside. Truly, one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw.”

“Ok that is like, fucking awesome obviously, but it doesn’t explain the nickname.” Ellie raises her eyebrow at Tommy.

Joel and Tommy start snickering again. The absolute dorks.

“Sure, yeah, but you know,” Tommy snorts and says gleefully, “she got him where the sun don’t shine.” He and Joel laugh again, louder this time, leaning into each other. This time you roll your eyes, even as Ellie laughs, too. Tommy’s still just as pleased with himself for coming up with that nickname, more than 20 years later. He’s got the same look on his face as he did outside of the bar, crowing about the way you took the guy down.

You and Ellie and Maria leave them there, leaning against each other and laughing, as you walk arm in arm back to where you left the horses.

...

a/n: that’s it, y’all. Thank you for reading!! Every single one of your comments has meant so much to me. Please let me know what you think of the ending?

I bet I’ll add some drabbles showing some of this stuff that didn’t fit in the story. To answer your probable questions:

Yes, you get married. (Your rings don’t actually fit anymore, but neither of you care. You have them, that’s enough. And later you pass them on to Ellie.)

Yes, you do show Jackson how it’s done, dancing at the bar. You even bring out the mix CD.

I handwaved the cure and resulting issues here but just know that however it went, they took care of it.

You and Joel do talk about Tess and Michelle and everything else that happened. You tell Ellie all about Sarah and the extended family she would have had in Texas. Talking about them hurts but seeing her wonder, hearing about her huge family, helps.

You and Ellie talk about Michelle and she eventually opens up to you about her crush on Cat, bringing the two of you closer together.

Joel still sings to you in the kitchen and dances with you in the backyard.

You’re all happy, in the end. It’s hard, and sometimes it’s so hard you think it might not work out. But it always does, and you’re happy. Together.

Tag list

@morgaussy @jay-zzle @bluetattoos @dins-riduur-anthe @huffle-punk @poodlebae

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #over again fic #x reader #my fic

96 notes · View notes

boilsyouroil · 28 days

Text

Is Eclipse Okay Yet!? It's Been Months!

Chapter 1 - Stubbornness Leads You Nowhere

[ AO3 LINK ] - [ CH 2 ]

Word Count ; 2022

Date ; 2024-04-03

AU ; The Oil Au

Notes ; Eclipse is not okay yet.

Takes place after finding out Ruin was evil, before Solar's death.

The sound of rain splashing against the window was the only sound in the room. Not even pained breathing could overtake the peace that held the air captive.

Eclipse tried his damn near hardest to get up, only to sink back into his seat. It hurt too much. All of it hurt too much. He had been alone in the back of the arcade again for a very long two days. Eclipse groaned and rubbed the sore area to try and soothe it enough to get up, but to no avail. In fact, the pressure made it worse.

If only someone were there to pick him up and carry him somewhere comfy, like a nice soft bed. Hell, even a bench or couch was better than this old worn desk chair. Eclipse hated to admit it, but he needed someone to come help him. At this point, he'd willingly get on his knees and beg if he could.

Sadly though, his body would not leave him alone, and so he had no choice but to sit. He reached a hand up to grab onto the desk and push himself toward the light switch. Surprisingly enough, the chair still rolled, even with a broken wheel. But sadly, it didn't make it all the way to the other end of the room. Eclipse groaned and took off his shoe, throwing it at the light switch. He missed, and tried again with the other one. Missed again.

He grumbled in defeat and opted instead to simply shield his eyes from the light. He considered for a moment, pinging someone for help with his predicament, but ultimately decided against it. Not long later, his lack of sleep caught up with him and he was out cold.

----

Solar sighed as he followed close behind Moon, "Are you sure he's actually in here?" Moon nodded, "He can't have gone anywhere else. Besides, the computer said he was throwing a tantrum or something in here last he was seen."

As they entered into the back room of the arcade, immediately something felt different. The lights in the hall were off, and the silence was eerie. Moon went through first, immediately slamming the door to the repair room open. Moon promptly stated the following, "You've had your sulking time, I need you to come help with something." Solar immediately followed Moon.

At about the same time, both of them registered the fact that Eclipse was dead asleep in a very shitty chair, completely silent. Solar and Moon looked at eachother for a minute, before Solar decided to take charge. He walked forward and shook Eclipse's shoulder firmly. Lucky for him, this was enough to rouse the other animatronic from his slumber. "Wake up, sleeping beauty." Solar smiled.

Moon had to do his best to stifle his laughter, seeing as Solar just couldn't resist an opportunity to lightly insult Eclipse. Eclipse found himself looking up at Solar, his eyes had a lifeless glare. Moon almost immediately noticed something was wrong, and stepped closer. "Eclipse, wake your ass up." Eclipse groaned as the pain from just hours ago finally hit him like a train.

"I'm up, what do you want?" He managed to wheeze out to Moon. Moon frowned and crouched a bit, blocking the light from Eclipse's eyes. "I need you to help me with something, but first I want you to explain why you think it's okay to just disappear into one room for days on end without saying anything?" Sitting himself upright with a wince, Eclipse moved to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Simple answer, I wanted something, I got what I wanted, then I got stuck."

"Stuck, what do you mean stuck?" Solar chimed in, walking over to inspect the back of Eclipse's faceplate for any idea as to what was going on. Eclipse, rather surprisingly, didn't fight back. "The little cretin that rebuilt me had the bright idea of making it..." Eclipse hissed mid-sentence, another wave of pain shot through him, "impossible for me to function without suffering." Eclipse stated it as such a fact that it made Moon's blood boil. He knew Ruin was a prick, but to give someone chronic pain, let alone to such severe amounts? That's just plain awful.

Moon thought for a moment, then promptly hooked his hands under Eclipse's arms and yanked him from the chair, no real regard for how he felt. "Come on, you tree." Moon grunted as he threw the taller animatronic over his shoulder. He began walking to the daycare. Eclipse's response to this? Struggling to get free, of course! He was stubborn, that was one thing you could never take from an Eclipse. Hell, even Solar was stubborn, and he was practically the polar opposite of all other Eclipses. Eclipse kicked Moon in the stomach and cried out, "Put me down, you fucking blueberry!"

After realizing Moon wouldn't give in, Eclipse instantly looked towards Solar, hissing out, "Help me out of this you useless-" he grunted, struggling to find an insulting nickname to use against Solar, "thing!" Solar choked for a moment in an attempt to stifle his laughter. "Moon, you owe me like seven hundred dollars. Eclipse, with very little respect, I refuse to help you. Besides, seeing you helpless is kind of funny to me."

Eclipse groaned and mumbled, though what he said when unheard. He felt his face begin to heat up from embarrassment. This new emotion led to him pressing his entire body into a smaller state, knees bent in, shoulders raised and arms crossed, head pulled closer to his body.

Only a few minutes passed and Eclipse found himself on Moon's couch, being guarded by Solar as Moon was in another room to retrieve god knows what. Eclipse sat with his legs spread out, and his arms crossed over his chest, attempting to put a barrier between himself and Solar without looking like some scared kid. For a moment, Eclipse forgot Solar was there, being lost in his thoughts. It wasn't long before he was brought back to reality by a surge of pain so bad he thought he would die. He hissed and tensed up, leaning forward.

Solar crouched next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't fall off the couch on me. I don't wanna have to pick you back up." Eclipse groaned and rolled his head to the side so he could look Solar in the eyes. The pity that met his gaze made him want to gag. Eclipse grabbed Solar's wrist and pushed him away, but this only made Solar more insistent, now putting both hands on Eclipse's shoulders.

He pushed Eclipse back far enough that he was leaning into the backrest, the cushion enveloping both sides of him. He didn't fight back this time, nor did he immediately spring up the second Solar released him. This position was comfortable, and actually helped a bit now that he wasn't folded right over the painful area. Solar seemed to notice this by the way his face flashed into a knowing smile.

Moon came back with a heated blanket, promptly tossing it right over Eclipse. Solar and Moon sat on the other couch, Moon eating a bag of chips. Eclipse, having only gotten a few hours of sleep in the fazcade, soon passed out again, not even laying down. He looked awfully peaceful while he slept, so much so you would have never thought he was the villain in the story. Solar promptly snapped a picture for later.

----

Eclipse woke to the sound of Moon's voice. "So what if he's been sleeping for two days!? Let him rest! He may be our mortal enemy but that doesn't mean we can just take away his basic fucking needs! How would you feel if I woke you up from a much needed nap!?"

"Moon I need to clean the blanket it hasn't been washed in a week!"

"You can wash it when he's done using it, instead of waking him up to steal it from him!"

He opened his eyes to see Sun and Moon standing in the kitchen, bickering, Sun had a half empty bottle if wine in hand and Moon was standing in his way of getting out from behind the island. Eclipse groaned and sat up, causing both the twins to fall silent.

"Quit your fucking fighting, you'll wake the damn dead with all that noise." In the blink of an eye, Moon was standing over Eclipse with one hand on his faceplate, looking him over. "Eclipse! It's been two days, are you okay!?"

"I'm fine, Moon. Get your damn hands off me!" Eclipse growled, moving to stand up. Moon promptly pushed him back onto the couch, hissing at him, "Stay down and just relax for five minutes. Last I checked, you don't have anywhere you need to be, so just chill. Me and Sun will bring you what you need, just take it easy for the day."

"Very funny. I don't need your damn pity, and I certainly don't care for sitting down and taking a damn break." Eclipse spat as he tried once again to worm his way off the couch. He made it about two inches from his seat before he was pushed right back onto the sofa. He chuckled, "You just aren't gonna give up, are you, Moon? You going to keep me here as your little couch prisoner? God you're annoying." Moon sighed, "I don't want you to get up unless you absolutely have to right now, your body needs time to rest. Besides, you deserve to take a break once in a while."

"Well aren't you just peachy?" Eclipse taunted Moon as he tried to get up again. As assumed, his attempts were pointless. Moon ended up putting Sun on guard duty while he left to get dinner. Sun, to nobody's surprise, was freaking out the entire time.

Come dinnertime, Eclipse found himself sat between Sun and Moon. He was given food that he didn't actually end up touching. Unlike the rest of the celestials, he hasn't been built with basic needs in mind. While he had the systems to eat, he couldn't open his mouth. This often led to him going to get food to cure his hunger, only to end up giving away the food he made so it wouldn't be wasted. Eclipse tried to express this issue to Moon on multiple occasions, but he didn't ever end up finishing his sentences due to either being ignored or interrupted.

After dinner, Moon led Eclipse to the guest room, tossing him a brand new pair of pajamas, still had the tags and everything. The outfit was rather soft to the touch, and somehow just the perfect size.

Unlike Moon or Sun, his clothing wasn't cemented onto his body, so he definitely was able to spend his time appreciating other outfits. He looked in the mirror at the way the pajamas fit him, and he smiled softly at how perfect this seemed. After a little longer of admiring his new sleepwear, Moon interrupted him.

"Come on, go to bed. I want to turn all the lights out now, and to do that everyone needs to be in bed." Moon stated this rather calmly as he pushed Eclipse into the bed. He handed Eclipse the remote to the TV and then left, turning out the lights. Moon was rather surprised when he shut the door and went up the stairs, only to hear the Bluey intro song of all things. He hadn't taken Eclipse to be someone who even watched TV, let alone kid's cartoons.

----

Eclipse wriggled himself under the covers, feeling himself become engulfed with warmth. He pulled one of the pillows out from under his head and then decided to turn on a show. After a long time searching, he settled on Bluey. He wasn't exactly in the mood for anything serious, and all the other kids shows were- to put it kindly -obnoxious. After a few hours, Eclipse ended up trailing right back to sleep, pressed against the pillow as though it were a living thing.

25 notes · View notes

cuckoo-on-a-string · 1 year

Text

Superstition: Chapter 1

Namor x oc/reader (female)

(Currently PG-13, but likely heading towards very adult content, so read with that in mind.)

A/N: So, ya'll liked the teaser, eh? Here's a full chapter!

Tagging: Tags break my post, but I reply to comments on each new chapter when I post. Think of it as a personal, hand-written note.

Chapter 1

They said women of her kind should never touch the sea before they fell in love, that they’d lose their hearts to the waves. A forfeit to destiny or some such shit.

It was an old wives’ tale. A superstition.

But as the car careened towards the edge of the pier, rocketing over splintered wood without a hope of stopping before it hit the water, she kinda wondered if it was true. Just a little bit. The idea popped into her head like a bubble, random association as her brain fizzled through shock. Pain. Panic.

A bullet caught the driver’s side window, and it exploded in a rain of glass. Flinching away with closed eyes, she instinctively threw an arm across the wheezing, blue-skinned child in the passenger seat. The wheel jerked with the motion, and the car went over the side of the pier.

Freefall stole her belly, her sense of time, her understanding of gravity.

She had a suspended moment of clarity to reflect on her life choices, on her chances of surviving all this. In summary: she was an idiot, she missed her brothers, and she would not be seeing this adventure to its end.

None of it mattered. She had to escape, and she wasn’t about to leave the little girl with her big, terrified eyes floating in the tank beside her cell. Fuck that. The car, the pursuit, and the bullets were probably inevitable, anyway. At least she’d get the kid back somewhere she could breathe.

One of them would make it out alive.

And she’d rather bleed out from the bullet she’d caught than end her days in that cage. Or under a curious surgeon’s knife.

Better to give the ocean her heart.

They hit the water, and all was pain again. Saltwater gushed through the broken window, and the waterline climbed up the windshield much faster than she’d anticipated. But the kid looked better already. Less blue where the water swallowed her legs and chest.

Unlocking the girl’s seatbelt, she grabbed her by the arm, dragged her across her lap, and started stuffing her out the window. Hopefully she wouldn’t cut herself on the glass, but she needed to be out of the vehicle and on her way out to sea before the men with guns left their cars and started spraying the water.

“Go. Go on.” The water lapped up to kiss her chin, and ominous bubbles billowed from under the hood. She only had a few more good breaths before the car went under. “Get out of here, go.”

The kid reached through the window, pulling her arm, like she could return the favor. Scrambling to unlock her own seatbelt, she shook her head, trying to push the girl away. “I’m fine! Go!”

But as she tried to work the seatbelt free, she realized with dawning horror that the button wasn’t working. The mechanism must’ve jammed in the crash. She was anchored to her seat, and it was sinking fast.

“Fuck.”

She tipped her head back, neck straining as the surface moved up, and up, and over her face. Salt burned her eyes, and she barely saw anything beyond vague shapes in the dark water. The only light came from the full moon, and that was dwindling fast as gravity pulled her deeper. She ran her hands over the console, along the side of her seat, and along the edge of the window, looking for a shard large enough to cut herself free. But the window had shattered into diamond-sized fragments. Nothing big enough to save her.

The pressure roared in her ears, the ache bad enough to draw tears – not that she or anyone else could recognize them in this salty hell.

By the time car settled on the seafloor, about a dozen yards below the surface, she could see a faint cloud of red leaking from her side, and her brother’s taunting voice rang in her memory. “Don’t go swimming with a papercut or the water will get in, and it will get infected, and you will die.”

Well. This was no papercut, and she probably wouldn’t live long enough to get an infection, but she probably would die.

Wouldn’t he be so pleased to have been right?

She wanted him. She wanted all of her brothers. If any of the bastards shook her awake and laughed at her for being a big baby crying in her sleep she’d hug them, thank them, and never run off alone again. Or. She’d at least try. She’d really, really try.

She’d do anything.

Danu.

She didn’t want to die alone.

Thrashing in her seat, pinned as the burn in her lungs turned into frantic spasms, she clawed at the safety belt poised to end her life. Her chest was on fire. Her head felt like it might explode. How long before she broke? Before she had to breathe anything at all, even water?

Little hands clamped around her wrist, tugging.

And the damn fish kid still hadn’t left.

Fucking fuck.

The child was trying to say something. Her voice carried through the water, but she didn’t recognize the language, and it wasn’t like she could answer. Bubbles crept out her nose and she gestured out, away, towards deep water where the kid could escape their pursuers.

Shadows interrupted the moonbeams dancing over the wreck.

Gunfire, muted by the water, just barely cut through the thump of her heartbeat in her ears.

Another good tug on the seatbelt. Nothing.

She didn’t mean to open her mouth.

But she did. And the last of her air rose to stick on the roof of the sunken car in uneven bubbles. Her diaphragm jerked, inviting the sea into her lungs. It didn’t feel like water. It coursed through her like lava, an alien pressure with the soothing touch of an electrical burn.

Every limb took on a life of its own, a last ditch animal reaction to scramble for oxygen. A slow-motion blur of terror and agony as her brain shut down.

The last thing she felt was the seat belt’s sudden release, weightlessness, and hands on her shoulders.

Hands much too large to be a child’s.

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

She dreamt of cold and dark. The maw of the ocean rising to swallow her as a jellyfish pasted itself over her face.

She dreamt of fire in her lungs and strangers’ voices as swirling black swallowed the moon and stars. No lights to guide her home. No wind to breathe.

Sinking.

Drowning – in water or in air. It didn’t matter.

Shivers quaked through her half-conscious mind as she floated towards awareness, and a sharp pain nearly brought her round. Fingers pushing through the hole in her side conjured iron on her tongue, and she writhed against the weight of hands pushing her down.

But she didn’t wake enough to hear her own screams, though they burned in her throat, and she drifted again.

Soft voices carried through the grey. She didn’t understand them, but a matronly hand pressed to her forehead once, blessedly cool against the fever turning her body into a cauldron. Thick wrinkles and shushing whispers. When it left, she might’ve cried, but without strength to reach for the hand, she could only sink back from the edge of light.

The dark promised peace. Quiet. Recovery or a final end, she wasn’t sure, and if she could resist, she would. She’d call for her brothers, swim back to them, find a grip and never let go again.

But she had nothing left beyond nightmares.

She was a child again, bare feet along the cool stone of a rath’s passage – a fortress made a home, full of places to explore and trouble to find. Tired of her brothers and her cousins, she followed the dim hall alone to the golden light of the crafting room.

“Máthair?”

Her mother’s work always inspired reverence. Her dexterous fingers wove the future, capturing fate and fortune in her patterns. At play, over breakfast, when she tucked her children in at night, the stately woman with whisps of grey threading stories through her hair was Mam. At the loom, she was the Weaver, and a Weaver deserved respect, so right now she was Máthair.

Máthair made the most beautiful things. Told the most beautiful stories. Wise men turned to her for advice, like her father, and strong men followed her words in war, like her biggest brother. She listened because the Weaver was her Mam, and Mam loved her children very much, even at her loom.

“Here, Caoimhe.” Her Máthair took her little fingers and pressed them against a silver line dancing between colorful strings. A moonbeam, or a wave, alive and whispering a tale in a voice like her own. She bit her lip, smiling as she traced it, oh-so-careful not to snag the delicate pattern with her broken nails – she played hard, and her brothers played harder.

“This is your thread, a stór. Do you like it?”

“Yes, Máthair.”

But as she spoke, the thread wobbled under her touch, turning wet. An ocean seeped free, pouring from the line like a waterfall, and she took a quick step back, gasping in her high, childish voice as the water pooled quick and cold around her ankles.

The rest of the woven threads burst into flame, and the whole piece peeled off the loom, sinking with churning bubbles as the water rose.

“Mam?”

She looked, but her Máthair, her Mam, had disappeared, and when she turned back to the loom, it had gone, too, replaced with a windshield webbed in cracks.

Trapped. Sinking.

Bubbles rose like a wall, screaming in a discordant choir as they climbed towards the surface, more ghosts than air.

She whined, tugging on her seatbelt as her hands became a woman’s again, and she called for help.

“Deartháireacha!”

Salt water sloshed past her open lips, and she choked, pleading.

“Cabhair liom.”

No one heard, and the sea rushed in, eager to claim its forfeit. It would serve her heart to sharks and sea lice, to the blind things in the deep, deep dark that didn’t know of the sun, or the moon, or the stars. Her family would never find her bones, and her soul would be lost to those sunless places, crushed and alone forever.

The water closed over her. The world turned blue.

And she opened her eyes.

The fish girl sat beside her, a transparent mask over her nose and mouth like the jellyfish she’d dreamed of. Once she realized Caoimhe was awake, the kid snatched her hand from where it rested in a … hammock?

Bouncing on her feet, holding Caoimhe’s hand in both of hers, she chanted, “Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello!”

Which was interesting because she knew for a fucking fact the girl didn’t speak a lick of English before the accident. She’d tried entertaining her when they were trapped, and she tried explaining her plan when they fled, but no one could fake the blank, confused expression she earned for her efforts.

How long had she been asleep? Or was she still unconscious? Was this the figure her subconscious had chosen to guide her towards the afterlife?

Half convinced she was still dreaming, she croaked a raspy, “Hello,” of her own, and the flinching pain finally convinced her she’d really, truly woken.

In a hammock.

With the fish girl.

Who suddenly spoke English.

The fuck?

Nothing else in the space made any more sense. It looked like a cave, full of stalactites and stalagmites, some of which looked like they’d grown more or less naturally into screens. Or bars.

Another cage?

Just as her breath caught on a hiccup of fear, figures moved on the other side of the apparent bars and opened a door. They looked like the kid. Blue-skinned, wearing the gelatinous face mask and similar clothes. Two women and a man. She thought she recognized the wrinkled skin on the elder woman’s hands, and when she settled one of those hands on Caoimhe’s forehead, she was sure of it.

The woman smiled, pleased by whatever she’d found. When her hand dropped, Caoimhe checked her head herself, like she’d grown letters there she could read with her fingertips.

Had she developed a fever maybe…?

While her hand was by her head, she checked to see if her hair still covered her ears. It did. Thank Danu. She lowered her arm back to her side before anyone noticed.

The woman – the kid’s grandmother? – addressed the other two adults, and a drop of relief soothed their tight expressions. Though hardly relaxed, the good news lifted at least one of their many concerns, and they hurried to move forward.

“It’s good you’re awake.” The younger woman brought a stool beside the hammock, and the child rested her head against the woman’s knee as she sat. “We did not know if your fever would break.”

“Thank you,” Caoimhe said in her rough voice. Had she screamed a lot in her sleep, or was it a consequence of drowning? “For pulling me out of the water.”

Very carefully, she sat up, mindful of the pull in her side where the bullet hit. Something soft and a little slick rubbed over her skin, wrapped tight to her wound, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. Not yet. She didn’t want to see the damage. She didn’t want to see some strange thing she didn’t understand holding her together. Not yet.

The light, she realized, came from overhead. Glowworms. They cast an eternal twilight through the space, and she swallowed reflexively, wondering what in the fuck she’d gotten herself into.

“Where…” She looked back to the woman, probably the child’s mother. “Where are we?”

Inclusive language. Non-accusatory. No need to ruffle any feathers. Great damn need to orient herself, though.

Stiffening even as she tried to keep her face placid, the woman shook her head softly, saying, “I will do my best to answer your questions, but our king must speak with you first.”

Her turn to stiffen. Her breathing kicked up a notch, and she wrestled against the urge to hyperventilate.

The time had come to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings and why the sea is boiling hot.

She’d never heard of these people. They dressed in a fashion she might call Mayan, but she’d never heard of blue folk who breathed water, and she was getting the terrible, pressured sensation of being underwater. Like the ceiling would crack and the entire ocean would drop on her head at any second.

The little girl, still holding her hand, must’ve noticed her pulse jump, and she asked something in her parents’ language. The woman put a reassuring hand on her wrist, just above her daughter’s double grip.

“You saved our child. Our king will explain. Then we will talk.”

Caoimhe floundered, wincing as she strained to rise. “Can I – can I get up for this?”

The woman had eyes like Caoimhe’s oldest brother. A warrior’s eyes, looking within while analyzing without. She listened to the reason behind the question, the request for assistance, the desire to face their king out of bed, with a little more dignity and control than she’d find in the hammock.

Nodding, she rose from the stool and supported Caoimhe’s elbow. “Here.”

The woman helped her up, assuring she wouldn’t fall as she used her legs for the first time in…? As she gained her balance and cautiously assumed the seat with the little girl mirroring her mother’s support with much less efficacy under her other arm, the old woman Caoimhe assumed was the grandmother swooped a blanket over her shoulders, murmuring something under her breath.

Smirking, the mother said, “My mother says you look cold.”

Was she? She looked down and found gooseflesh creeping down her arms. Sometime between her rescue and recovery, they’d changed her into a simple white dress like the women of the family wore. Now that she mentioned it, she could definitely feel the damp air of the cave leeching heat from her skin. She’d been too uncomfortable to notice much besides the thrumming ache in her side and the fear stewing in the back of her thoughts.

“Thank you.”

The woman nodded again, but Caoimhe had a point to make. If things went poorly with their king, as the mother’s posture suggested it might, she wanted to make sure they knew she appreciated what they’d already done for her. “Really. Thank you. All of you.”

Regret flashed through the mother’s expression, followed by a wave of steely determination. She set her hands on Caoimhe’s shoulders, demanding her focus before she spoke. “We will speak again soon.”

Already feeling the weight of her own body, worn out by the effort of sitting up, she conserved her strength. She took her cue from the woman, nodding her agreement.

The woman straightened, her hands slipping away, and Caoimhe pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. Physical proof she wasn’t alone, that someone in this place wished her well. It immediately became the first comfort blanket she’d indulged in since she was six. Maybe, like that one, woven through with her mother’s magic, it would keep her safe.

The family left, and she summoned an anemic smile for the little girl before her parents towed her around the corner and out of sight. They closed the door as they went, and she sat in the cell, shivering and focusing on her breaths.

In and out.

Still alive.

In and out.

Lost.

Her breath caught. Fell out of rhythm.

Out and in.

At a stranger’s mercy.

Her half-drowned thoughts from the sinking car echoed in the present. She didn’t want to die. Not alone. Not so far from her family, her only real home. She wanted Eóghan to cluck over the bullet wound and put her together while Aodhfin called her twenty kinds of stupid. She even craved Dara’s disappointed glower, the weight of his brows dipping low with responsibility as he tried to express the gravity of the situation. Explaining everything she might’ve lost, what that would mean for the ones she loved.

And now she’d gone and lost herself, and once again she sent up silent prayers full of promises she knew she couldn’t keep.

Danu, Mother, let me go home and I’ll never wander again. I will be calm and still and –

The door opened.

Her heavy thoughts had pulled her eyes to the floor, and she jerked to attention, startled to find a man watching her from the entrance to the cell.

His golden skin lacked the blue tint the kid and her family had out of the water. His ears narrowed to sharp points, and when he continued into the space, she saw the wings on his ankles.

Even without the heavy ornamentation he wore, he was every inch a king. Tall. Proud. So confident in his control of the situation he took a second stool and sat across from her.

No need to tower. To posture.

She was no threat, and he wanted her to know.

“What is your name?”

An inquisition, then. Not a friendly chat. Not yet at least. His measured tone left no room for anything but a truthful answer.

Fortunately, she had no good reason to withhold her name. The mother had given her the impression everything would be alright if she cooperated. She could give this much.

“Caoimhe.”

His chin angled up, and though he didn’t say it out loud, she could see him repeating her name in his head.

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.”

A name she’d seen on paper. Never heard aloud. She remembered finding it in old books of mythology Dara collected. He always said their people were proof there was more to legend than empty stories. The name belonged to a fierce entity, something to be worshipped. More than a king, then.

The man named for a god observed her, gave her a moment to process what she clearly knew. Then he let the other name fall.

“My enemies call me Namor.”

The sharp dichotomy disturbed her, and she recalled the concern in the mother’s eyes. A diplomatic policy dividing the world into those he was sworn to protect and those he had reason to kill did not leave much room for negotiation. It also explained why she’d never heard of his people beyond the faintest trace of myth.

She tried not to pull away. Tried not to let her shoulders bow in an attempt to look smaller. She was what she was. She couldn’t change for this king. She shouldn’t give him the impression she could be forced to.

“And anyone else?”

His eyebrows lifted, and his eyes pierced hers. A note of challenge. “There is no one else.”

“Where does that leave me?” She often played word games with her brothers. It was fun to twist the truth to dance over a lie, to angle shadow and light in new ways across old ideas. But this wasn’t a game, and she needed answers. In all her years of play, she’d learned the bluntest tools sometimes made the best weapons. “Last I checked, I don’t turn blue.”

His tone didn’t change – this was still very much a matter of life and death – but cool amusement glittered in his eyes. “Where do you think that leaves you, surface dweller?”

She shifted, not quite squirming, keeping her eye on him. Holding still never came naturally to her, and now it was absolutely draining. He definitely noticed, and she hated it. “I’m not dead yet. Someone’s gone to great lengths to keep me that way.”

He flashed a grin, and she found he had a charming smile. Ridiculously charming, considering the circumstances. His confidence here was not at all a show. The consequences of this interaction would not touch him long, and he could afford to treat her blithely.

“Not such great lengths, but yes. Atziri wouldn’t leave your side, and her mother is one of my warriors. She argued it was a matter of honor, so I pulled you from the wreck, and her family has cared for you.”

He’d given her more information than the child’s family seemed comfortable giving. That was something. “The kid’s name is Atziri?”

A drop of warmth swam through the amusement in his eyes. Either he approved of the question, or the girl had carved out a soft spot in her king’s heart.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad she’s alright.”

It wasn’t a ploy. She was genuinely glad. Just as she would’ve been genuinely pissed if anything happened to the girl after she lost consciousness. Dying a hero and dying an idiot rode the same thread of fate.

The king huffed, white teeth gleaming as he only half-repressed his laugh. “She is much… hardier than you.”

Rude.

But probably true.

“Of course, I couldn’t help noticing you’re no ordinary surface dweller.”

Two long fingers reached out towards her face, and – bemused – she let them. She didn’t understand what he wanted, what he was doing. She hadn’t hurt her face as far as she knew, and her puzzled frown grew as the fingers passed her cheek –

And smoothed back her hair to touch the delicate point of her ear.

Fight or flight instincts carried her out of the conversation and a few steps across the cell before his hand could lower – or touch her again.

Her back met the wall as her stool clattered to the floor. Not nearly far enough. The damn stone felt maliciously designed, like the glass of the laboratory cell. And of course it was. There were bars, weren’t there? This was a prison.

Her heart kicked in her chest, the extra oxygen and adrenaline flooding her system as muscles tensed for a fight and her vision narrowed to the immediate threat.

He hadn’t moved. Hand still suspended, he drank in her reaction, studying her in a new light with a determined focus that swallowed the scraps of playful warmth he’d shown before. She told him things. With her wild eyes. Her desperate breaths. Her swift and sudden fear at being noticed. At being found out.

Clearly, he knew the ways of hidden things. He followed a very different path to secrecy, but one of his own ended up in the same hands that took Caoimhe, so even if they followed different routes, they forded the same rivers. They faced the same obstacles. The same consequences greeted their mistakes, and this – proving whatever suspicions he already had – must be another misstep.

She’d told him too much, and she rushed to banish her instinctive reaction, to distract from the cool calculations turning in the man’s eyes.

“Do you always touch women without asking permission?”

It was like slamming a door in his face. Don’t look here. Don’t wander in. Recognize you’ve strayed where you are not welcome and take a step back for both our sakes.

And, to her great surprise, he did.

The hand fell so he could rest an elbow on his knee, head tilting a fraction. Mischief twinkled through the curiosity in his eyes. No one with his kind of power should be able to summon such boyish charm. It was damn dangerous.

“May I touch you?” He smiled. A beautiful man used to getting his way.

“No. You may not.” She drew herself up. A determined prisoner prepared to bite anyone who dared breach her consent.

She wasn’t flirting. He might be.

Still grinning, like her diversion was a game he enjoyed, he lifted his hands to his shoulders, palms out, before dropping them to his knees.

She tried to think of a distraction from the distraction. This was not a very safe topic for an injured woman kept behind bars to banter over with a king. When she drew boundaries, only his honor and tastes prevented him from stepping across.

“Atziri greeted me in English when I woke up.”

His grin slowly closed, though a curl lingered at the corner of his mouth. “I ordered her mother to start teaching her. You are her responsibility now, and she must acknowledge that burden.”

Learning one of the least sensical and most unnecessarily complicated languages on the planet wasn’t a short-term investment. He called her a burden. She imagined she could feel the weight of seatbelt across her lap and chest again, anchoring her to the bottom of the sea.

Maybe she didn’t escape her death. This didn’t sound like rescue.

As she came to that realization, he read it in her face.

Once again, she shared too much, and he nodded as her expression fell towards despair.

“There was a choice to make.” His eyebrows lifted, just a little, opening his expression so she could read him in turn. Earnestness. It had been no easy decision, and her situation was urgent. Hadn’t she felt herself slipping towards the world of ghosts?

He continued, lancing the wound so as not to draw out her suffering.

“We could not leave you on the shore. You would be found again, and besides, you’d already seen Atziri.”

She closed her eyes, wondering how she could still breathe as the gravity of his words gathered like rocks in her stomach.

Fine. Danu heard her. She didn’t die alone. But she’d never be with her brothers again. Judging by the cave and the people who needed water to breathe, she’d probably never see the stars again either.

Fucking fuck. This couldn’t be right. It wasn’t what she meant. Not at all. At the gates of death, she wanted her family. She wanted the sun.

This was all wrong.

Her knees buckled. Brought low by physical weakness and the king’s blow to her hope, she sank down the wall.

“You will stay here, the permanent guest of Atziri’s family. They will return the life they owe you, and you will keep Talokan’s secrets.”

Resolute. As hard as the polished jade in his ears. The decision had already been made, and her only choice was whether to let her tears fall now – in front of him – or later – alone. Opening her eyes took courage. And it took skill to pull the water back, to flutter her lashes just so, banishing the drops before they fell.

He approached on his winged feet as she pulled herself together, taking a knee just far enough back to not let her keep her personal space. Apparently he’d learned after touching her ear. He didn’t want to set her off, an unnecessary kindness that looked pallid in the shade of the entire life he’d just taken away. There was compassion in his gaze, but not enough to save her.

“I can always give you a quick death.”

An offer of mercy, but the finality of her only available alternative sent chills flooding down her spine. Under her blanket, she shuddered.

He picked up each hint to her thoughts, collecting the pieces of herself she so carelessly dropped, and grew a new smile.

“Though, after all the time and effort that my people have invested in your recovery, that would be a terrible waste.”

#namor x reader #namor x oc #namor fanfiction #superstition fic

205 notes · View notes

catiuskaa · 10 months

Text

Quick Question: What the Hell?

GIF by quokki

@starlostseungmin and @gimmeurtmi hear me out, you people with good taste:

mafia!seungmin, bc yes, min supremacy.

(warnings just in case) 🌻we know seungminnie wouldn't hurt a fly, this is a fanfic, FANATIC FICTION ME LOVE, everything went out of my mind and pinterest ideas, just that <3 🌻this is made entirely because I could, which I warn you- it may not work. 🌻will contain shitposting, drama, angst, pinterest and tumblr prompts and a whole bag of sarcasm. 🌻as a cherry on top, mature content too, swearing is a must cause well its mafia not my little pony but just a reminder, i warned u already. 🌻i am confident in my english, however, its not my first language so it may contain some mistakes- sorry in advance.

this was laying under some works of mine, so I retouched it a bit... should I keep it going? I mean there are like five more chapters finished, but the story isn't. I'll leave the first one here, pls enjoy it!

"Congratulations, Detective Dumbass. You were so desperately interested in what I was doing, weren't you? Now you know. What are you gonna do about it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Ok, emo dog, isn't there anyone else in your 'I can show up bleeding' list or was I, the late night shift Subway stranger, your only option?"

"I already went to my other option. They gave me this," he groaned, gesturing to one of the biggest wounds.

Wait. Stop.

Just let me pause real quick for a second. Let's back up, and start somewhere before that.

Remember that meme? "Yup. That's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation..." That's the only thing that comes up to my mind whenever I try to explain what happened that Monday night or dare I say Tuesday morning, at 1:51 a.m.

What was I doing? Well, absolutely nothing, because no one, absolutely no one shows up at a Subway at that time, not on a bloody Tuesday. My shift finished at 3 am, the last of the day, so you know, I wouldn't try to summon demons into the shop, and I was just there to get paid a minimum wage. Not like I wanted to get Hell involved.

It had rained outside, the wet street and the puddles that the rain had formed were still there. I thought it would last all night, but it stopped suddenly as if someone had turned off the hose. I had music playing, but no headphones in case someone called or entered. I allowed myself to be a bit carefree, but I was still at work.

And then, it happened. For the first time in what seemed like forever, someone showed up and made the automatic doors open. It was a pale, young man. He was wearing an oversized black hoodie and black jeans. He walked towards me, and for a second the thought occurred that I was going to be robbed. He settled one hand on the counter that stood between us, leaving the other by his stomach, making me notice that he was sort of bending down a bit, but before I could say anything, his face lifted, his gaze met mine and I froze.

Those dark brown eyes stared at me deadly. I shivered. It felt like if I started thinking too hard, he would be able to read whatever crossed my mind.

"Is he here?" He asked with a soft and tender tone, yet not a soothing one, rather than what you would expect for someone with such delicate facial features. Still intimidated, I simply shook my head sideways. I knew I was alone inside the building, but, is who here? Would it be possible that he was looking for Jisung? He had given no signs of life since he stopped coming to work, and that was almost a week ago. Every time I tried to contact him, to make sure he was OK at least, the automatic voice message simply replied that the number dialled didn't exist anymore.

After my silent reply, his gaze lowered and I heard him scoff.

"That's great," he whispered, in what I perceived, full of sarcasm. With that reply, my body trembled. Fuck. He now knows that there's no one else in here.

shitshitshitshit.

But before I could think of anything else to say, he slowly walked away and left.

...

What in the fucknuckles had just happened? Well, I'll be damned, because I for sure didn't know.

I looked outside. A not-so-heavy rain had started again, the one with those tiny drops that were barely noticeable. Suddenly, a loud crash made me jump in my place. It had come from behind the store. I snapped out of whatever daydreaming I was in, noticing red marks, more like stripes on the floor. Like ropes. Red ropes. What was that doing there? It was sort of like a path that pointed outside.

Ah, c'mon man, you gotta be kidding me.

The loud crash was repeated, only weaker this time. I questioned my life-long decisions and wondered if I was being a wimp by having the urge to pretend that I heard nothing. I thought to myself, it couldn't be that bad, right?

I left the register and walked to the backdoor, and slowly peeked outside. A scenario welcomed me, and I had never —not even in my wildest dreams, and trust me, I had a vivid imagination—conceived of seeing... whatever that was, with my own eyes.

Describing it as bloody would be accurate. It was the same guy from minutes ago, except he looked even paler, and his black hoodie was nowhere to be seen. Instead, what looked like a once-white t-shirt covered his torso, but it was full of blood and cuts. His arm was laying on what looked like the worst part of the scene, making me unable to see it, and I didn't know if I should've been thankful for it.

He had sat on the ground by laying on the wall and slowly slipping off. His head was tilted, resting on a dumpster... could that have been the source of the noise?

The need to scream 'NEVERMIND' and get the shit fuck out of whatever that was kept getting bigger and the one to be a hero was getting emptier. But sadly for everyone, it was not empty yet.

And just maybe, I wanted to see those dark brown eyes again...

Screw everything.

I cleaned the "red ropes" that turned out to be the bloodstains of this idiot that shows up bleeding to death on a Subway at 2 am, turned off the lights and closed an hour early. I exited through the backdoor and he was still there, which was good because I could help him, but at the same time bad because I felt he'd be the type to reject aid in any way. If he hadn't run away, he just couldn't. And that was bad. Really bad.

I got down on my knees, put on the plastic gloves I had kindly borrowed from the store, along with a first aid kit that was compulsory to have in there and shook him once. Twice. Thrice. He wouldn't wake up.

For a moment, I froze again. That's what I thought, I knew this guy. He had shown up several times asking for the missing soul that Jisung had turned to, with some blond boy with a deep voice and a strong accent. But never alone, never late at night, and most importantly, never bleeding.

"Hey," I murmured. I repeated myself, each time louder, but still gently. Suddenly I heard him groan, and I couldn't help but smile calmly for a second.

"What...?" His soft tone almost weakened me, but I knew deep down that he could pass out again any minute, and maybe I wouldn't be able to wake him up again.

"It's OK. I'll take care of this, my guy. You are a lucky bastard 'cause I know what I'm doing, but I need to take you elsewhere. I can't patch you up in this place. Can you stand up?"

He weakly moved his arm from above his torso and I saw the worst part of it. Let me tell you, those were some large cuts. Still, I refrained from expressing anything, no disgust nor pity. I knew that Brown Eyes was in a whole lot of pain and trouble, but he most likely knew that too.

"Whaddya think, can I?" He showed a weak yet sarcastic smile.

Son of a bitch. "That's my question here, smiley face. You either do so or you die due to blood loss in an alley behind a Subway." I smiled back.

He frowned and tried to get up, but failed and if I hadn't caught his arm mid-way and passed it over my shoulders for support, he would've fallen to the ground again. I took off the cloth I was wearing as a hairband and made him keep pressure on the biggest wound.

"It's only a couple of blocks away, on the street in front of us. Will you make it?" I asked, trying not to sound too worried. He simply started walking. I just hoped no one would see us.

I helped him walk till we arrived at the number four, with its red old hideous door, and I supported his weight as he slowly lay on the wall as I opened the door. As we walked he kept mumbling, saying nonsense, talking about some 'district nine' but when we entered the building he shut up, and I swear I heard a silent cry when he saw no elevator.

"Second floor. You got this."

The fact that he didn't answer, not even with a rude comment made me worry a bit more. We did the same thing at my apartment's door and I made him wait just a bit more, running inside and taking the oldest towels I could find and I made him lay down on the now covered couch.

Okay, it's just an almost-dead guy cut like sliced cheese on your sofa. You're a med student, and you work night shifts. You've dealt with worse.

As soon as he settled down, I saw a relaxed yet bothered expression on his face, and I felt a bit bad because of it, but I couldn't let him sleep, not yet.

"Stay awake, please. I need you awake, uh..."

"Kim... call me Kim," he said, almost in a whisper.

"This is going to hurt, Kim," I said in almost a sing-song voice. I was surprised to hear him sort of giggling.

"Not more than this already." His eyes were like tunnels, looking sunken, lost, looking as if someone had turned the lights off.

"Sorry beforehand..." I opened the first aid kit and sat on a stool that I took from the kitchen.

Gloves still on my hands, I took my now ruined and bloodstained cloth and nonchalantly ripped open what was left of his shirt, to see all the cuts. I counted five. The bleeding had already stopped, but I had to clean each wound on his torso and forearms so they wouldn't get infected. I took out sterile wipes and cleaned the three wounds that were on his torso. Fortunately for both of us, the cuts weren't deep enough, so no stitches were needed. I noticed every time he flinched, and for some reason, it pained me each time. I shook my head, trying to get whatever emotions out of the situation as I dashed to the kitchen and took a damp cloth and used it due to the lack of antiseptic I could use to clean the blood off his body. I then took clean gauze and wiped the wounds dry, and used a big sterile dressing to cover each.

"Hey, Kim. Kim, lean on me."

He shook his head slightly, looking confused.

"F-For what?"

For some reason, the question annoyed me.

"Support, dipshit. I need you to sit still now, so I can treat your forearms and finish up."

What else would I ask this shit for?

After I finished, the so-called Kim lay down and fell asleep almost instantly. I took a blanket from my room and quietly sat on the armchair in front of where he was.

The guy sleeping on my couch had five cuts and bruised knuckles.

I closed my eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

Next time, I'm packing up my crayons and leaving.

~Kats, who literally found this out of luck right after remembering that she writes a whole lot of shit to forget about it lol

#so?#should i make more?#stray kids scenarios #stray kids #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin #seungmin skz #mafia #hope you enjoy

67 notes · View notes

she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 5 months

Text

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @ethereal-maia @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly

If anybody else wants to be added let me know :)

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's ptsd references and responses, murder, surgery (suture), blood and gore, violence, homelessness/rough sleeping, death, and implied sa (not explicit).

Chapter 16 - Aimee

Aimee had been at the Tulip Mill for 263 days. She had not been in the shelter for even one day. She had been hiding in the dark corners of Ketterdam for almost two days.

She hadn’t had a chance to change into other clothes before Maya dragged her from the shelter, and crouched uncomfortably in her pale orange silks and an old knitted jumper Maya had stolen and shoved quickly over her to try to keep her from the cold. Aimee didn’t understand. Maya had been so angry, Aimee had little marks on her wrist where she’d gripped her. But then she stole her a jumper.

Aimee wasn’t sure where she’d got it. Maya had made them promise to stay still and stay quiet in an alley in the Barrel before she vanished for about an hour. Princess Aimee could have formulated a plan, could have taken the opportunity to run and find her knight. To get out before she was stuck with a new monster. But Aimee was cold and frightened. She may have been Kerch, but it would buy her little favour in a city she didn’t know dressed in the silks of a girl from the Mill. Maybe they would drag her straight back - surely if Yen was gone another monster had taken up the ugly mantle. And there were other things to think about too. Like Kiada.

Kiada hadn’t spoken in 31 hours. Aimee counted them. When Maya had left them in the alley (1 and a half hours), the Zemeni girl had blinked, sat down, hugged her knees, closed her eyes. Aimee had watched her in stunned silence, no idea what to do to break her from her trance. Maya had returned at 2 1/2 hours and pressed the jumper into Aimee’s arms.

“It’s going to be cold tonight,” she said, as if it weren’t already cold, “This was the best I could get you,”

Aimee had said nothing.

“It’s going to be okay,” Maya whispered, “I promise,”

When Kiada did not move to Maya’s gentle asking, she took her hand and coaxed her to her feet. Aimee thought pain might have briefly flashed across the Fjerdan’s features, but it vanished so quickly she could have imagined it. Kiada let Maya lead her onwards as though she’d barely noticed they were walking. There was nothing else for Aimee to do. She followed.

She was regretting that now.

Maya had found them somewhere to hide in the dark, in a burnt out corner under a bridge, and then revealed that she’d also stolen a surgical needle and black thread. Aimee and Kiada had sat against the wall, watching as Maya removed her shirt from beneath her vest, so her arms and the bloody wound were exposed. She threaded the needle with deft agility, then dug it quickly into her flesh - Aimee supposed so she wouldn’t have time to think about it. It was nothing any of them hadn’t seen before, Aimee suspected both Maya and Kiada had done it themselves at least twice, but it still made Aimee wince to see it. She’d never done it herself - an older girl would always seem to find their way to her when she needed it done - and when her own cuts had been sewn she’d averted her eyes from the process, usually biting into a piece of ripped fabric the girls would give her. Maya clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, but she made no sound. Aimee stared, fixated, at the blood and the throbbing and the shimmer of the needle. Kiada looked blankly at the air, as though she could not see anything at all. 3 hours.

When Maya was finished, she wrapped the needle in her torn, bloody shirt and threw it into the canal. Aimee’s head hurt. Kiada leant against the wall, eyes flickering like she might be asleep.

By hour 10, Maya was angry again. By hour 12 she was crying - she thought that Aimee and Kiada were asleep. Kiada might have been, but Aimee wasn’t sure. By hour 15, Maya had seen Aimee stir and wanted to check if she was okay. She found some strip of fabric Aimee barely registered the shape of and wrapped it over the younger girl’s shoulders. Even though Aimee didn’t think she was safe, she knew that she was cold and tired and confused, and so she let Maya hold her through the makeshift blanket and whisper soft things as she closed her eyes. She didn’t sleep for long; when she did her dreams swam with her princess and her knight. But it was wrong. Off they went on their daring adventures, and everything was normal, then it all came to a sudden stop and a dark drop and Aimee awoke with cold sweat burning on her forehead.

She sat up slowly, breaths shaking, the world coming slowly into focus. Kiada was curled over herself, face shielded from the very beginnings of daylight, and Maya sat a little beyond her.

“What time is it?” Aimee had whispered, as though speaking any louder would be akin to breaking something.

“A little after 5 bells,” murmured Maya, “Try to stay rested if you can. We have a lot to do,”

“Maya what’s going on?”

“Be quiet,”

Maya got to her feet and brushed off her trousers. Her arms were bare since she’d shed her shirt and left her torso only covered by a knitted vest, and Aimee could see the thick black stitches near her collar bone. She shivered.

Maya was erratic - even more so than she’d been last night. Aimee tried to entertain thoughts of a plan, of an exit, of a way back to the shelter. But she was coming up short. She didn’t really know where the shelter was, or where they were now for that matter, and she couldn’t think of any way of safely bringing Kiada with her. She’d tried to get the girl’s attention and she’d flinched away, arms thrown over her ears as she flung her head deeper into her lap.

“We need to move,” said Maya, “I have a little money, we might be able to find somewhere real to stay,”

Aimee didn’t ask why that hadn’t been an option last night. She wondered if Maya had stolen the money, or if it was from the man who she’d said paid her for information. Aimee hadn’t understood everything she’d heard in the shelter, but she was piecing it together. She climbed slowly to her feet, the air cold on her half-bare legs as the makeshift blanket fell away. Her skin prickled and she rubbed her hands along the sleeves of her jumper. Kiada hadn’t moved.

Maya seemed to lean forward to place a hand on the Zemeni girl’s shoulder, then think better of it and pull away.

“Kiada? Come on, we have to go,”

Kiada blinked.

“Kiada,”

Aimee tensed.

“Kiada,” demanded Maya again

When there was still no response, Maya’s questionable patience snapped. She was shouting again and Aimee felt her feet anchor in place as though they weighed a thousand pounds. Maya yelled something that turned to buzzing in Aimee’s ears, and suddenly she’d grabbed Kiada by the hair and forced her closer. Kiada cried out in pain as her braids were almost ripped from her scalp, thrashing to try and break free of Maya’s grasp.

Princess Aimee would do something. She would help. She was strong.

On Day 126 at the Tulip Mill, Aimee had witnessed her first death. She’d lost before, grieved and mourned; but she had not seen the moment itself until Peony, a scrap of a 15-year-old you wouldn’t have thought was older than Aimee, had released a near-painfully loud screech of a scream from the room next door. When there was no rushing of footsteps along the hallway after a minute had passed, Aimee summoned enough courage to creep out of her room and slip inside the next. Peony had stood in the centre of the room, staring blankly at her blood-soaked hands. The man on the floor was shaking violently.

Aimee had later learned that the man had scared Peony so badly that she’d screamed and plunged a knife straight through his stomach. No-one knew more detail than that. No-one knew where Peony had got the dagger. There were ceaseless whispered rumours, passed between walls and partly open doorways.

It was his knife, she’d heard one girl guess, brought it with him so he could gut her when he was done. Can’t blame her for getting in first.

She kept it in her mattress, and was planning on killing Yen with it.

She’d killed clients before; this was just the first time she got caught.

She was deranged.

He was deranged.

He wanted to slice her into neat little pieces and rearrange her like a jigsaw puzzle.

But that all came later. In that moment, on day 126, two girls had locked eyes over a nearly dead body. The man’s blood had gurgled and it made Aimee feel sick, but she could not draw away. Peony sighed, when he died, as if she were glad it was finally over. She looked at Aimee, her eyes feverish and wild and frightened - and protective.

“Hide,” she’d whispered, and Aimee had.

She’d bolted into her room and sat with her back against the closed door; listening. She heard footsteps and shouting and someone screaming again. But she did not leave her room. She heard new voices, authoritative voices she realised with a harsh crack must be Stadwatch. That they would come here, would arrest Peony but not Yen, that they would see everything that happened in this building and not blink an eye until they took one of those poor, pretty girls away killed a tiny little something inside of Aimee. That, she thought looking back on it, was the second death she witnessed.

From her window, Aimee had watched them drag Peony away. And for a second, a barely imperceptible movement as the girl looked up at the Mill, Aimee thought their eyes might have locked again.

The older girls said Peony would swing. No-one ever confirmed it.

Maya dropped Kiada’s hair and let her fall against the pavement. Aimee did not want to hide. She wanted to be brave and strong and she wanted to be able to save herself. She wanted to be able to rescue Kiada. She wanted her body to be as strong as her mind, but it was not. She wanted her actions to be as fierce as her will but they weren’t. More than anything, she wanted to go home. She couldn’t.

Princess Aimee would intervene. She would protect Kiada, find a way to fight the monster with her mind. She was strong. She was fierce. She could argue; stand up for her beliefs. She could. She could. She would.

Aimee opened her mouth, but her voice did not exist.

#Maya Olsen oc #no beta read #grishaverse #six of crows #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #kanej #matthias helvar #kanej fic #six of crows fic #soc fic #fan fic writing #no beta we die like men #grisha

23 notes · View notes

bratshaws · 5 months

Text

through the hourglass 299.brb x oc

a/n: same gif, OOP(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/253/254/255/256/257/258/259/260/261/262/263/264/265/266

/267/268/269/270/271/272/273/274/275/276/277/278/279/280/281/282/283/284/285/286/287/288/289/290/291/292/293/294/295/296/297/298

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca

Beatrice’s shift at the bar that night was…very calm. She assumed it was because of the rain so the usual Hard Deck patrons weren’t there. After talking to her parents to keep an eye on the kids at home, she felt very at ease.

“Penny,” she says to her boss, placing an empty tray on the counter, “I need three of the usuals for the table on the corner, please.” she taps her fingers, chewing her lower lip, “It’s a bit…empty tonight,no?”

Penny sighs through her nose while filling the glass mugs with the chosen beer, her eyebrows scrunched just a bit, “A little yes.” Beatrice blinks at how her boss’ sudden short sentence made her lean back in surprise, Penny looked so…bothered by something. “Here.” she slides the drinks on the tray, eyes moving somewhere else entirely.

“...thank you Penny.” Bea whispers, tucking a strand of hair that fell from her bun, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,I am.”

Beatrice nods with her eyes still on Penny, offering her a small, understanding smile, “Okay,Penny, please let me know if you need any help?” another nod and Bea walks away serve the table.

Once she’s distant from Penny but close enough to Shells, she cautiously approaches the blonde until their shoulders are touching, playing it off she was helping her clean this table. “Shells.” she whispers, flicking her gaze to where Penny was, still looking bothered, “What’s wrong with Penny? She seems upset.”

Shells blue eyes, the same blue from her aunt, moved to Bea then back to where her aunt was briefly, “I think she’s bothered because…well, those suits keep bothering her,”

“Still?”

“Yeah!Can you believe it?” Shells mutters, still furiously cleaning the same spot with her rag and giving Bea the empty glasses there to open the space, “They’ve been calling her nonstop and auntie Penny said if they ever showed up here she’d call the cops.”

Bea hums, green eyes looking down at her feet as she thought about that piece of information, “...I don’t get why they want the Hard Deck so badly.”

“It’s a great spot.” Shells replies, leaning forward a bit to clean the furthest end of the table, groaning at the stretch, “We have loyal clientele, we also are one of the closest bars to the base. The amount of income The Hard Deck makes is really–” she lowers her voice “Really good.”

“Still, that’s pretty weird.”

“I mean,aunt Penny said no already and they still keep bothering her.” she shrugs, “They can always try but there’s no one more stubborn than my aunt and she’s going to shove her foot down and deep into an open wound so they don’t bother her again.” and Bea knew that to be true, she knew Penny was strong like that.

It just unnerved her how some people don’t back down.

Like Miranda.

She did lose her giant skeleton because of the rain,it tumbled down and broke in the middle of the road which prompted the neighbors closest to her to remove it before she had any say in it. Bea was just glad there was no ominous presence looking over at her house anymore, it lasted four days and that was more than enough.

But this whole thing,she wondered if this was just the trials and tribulations that the universe decided to throw her way,well, her and Rooster. They haven’t spoken for a few days so he was unaware of the whole skeleton drama and what Miranda’s been doing around their neighborhood.

Which prompted the next question:

“Did you talk to Bob?” the brunette asks and watches as Shells slowly straightens up and looks over at her, “These past days?”

“No, the last thing we talked about was the uh…the thing. A few days ago.” she keeps her voice quiet and she’s thankful that the jukebox was still going so no one could hear them, “Did you talk to Rooster?”

“No,” and god she missed him so much, this deployment was one of the hardest ones,she had to admit. She’s been hugging his pillow every night and that’s been helping her sleep better and making her actually rest. “...They are probably really busy lately.”

“Yeah.”

Shells purses her lips, “...our break is in a few minutes so.” she nods to the employee room as she grabs the tray from Beatrice’s hands, “Meet you there?”

Bea blinked but nodded gently, “Yes,sure.” she clears her throat,waiting until Shells was talking to Penny to finally walk to the opposite direction, the rain outside made it impossible for them to leave and talk,so this was their safest option. She unlocks the little break room and steps inside.

It wasn’t that big, it was one of the offices that ended up turning into a storage room for the toiletries and utensils around the bar. She moves further into the room, bumping her elbow against a shelf and rubbing the sore spot immediately while waiting for Shells’ entrance.

The blonde wanders in minutes later, locking the door behind her, “Girl.” she exhales, “What the fuck is this mission?” Bea was about to reply but her friend cut her off, “Something is so off.”

“Hah, yeah, tell me about it–”

“I mean,I am just out here, getting information.” Shells says, hands on her chest, “But like, don’t you think this mission just feels really,REALLY weird?”

Beatrice sighed, sinking into one of the worn-out chairs in the break room. Shells perched on the edge of a table, her gaze fixed on Bea, awaiting an answer. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the weight of unspoken concerns settling between them.

"Yeah, Shells, it's... it's weird. Everything feels off lately," Beatrice admitted, running her fingers through her hair. "I mean, first, there's this breach situation that Rooster is dealing with, and now, the Hard Deck is dealing with these persistent suits who won't take no for an answer."

Shells nodded in agreement, her expression mirroring the unease Bea felt. "And don't even get me started on Miranda and her Halloween obsession. I swear, that giant skeleton was haunting my dreams ever since you told me about it."

Beatrice chuckled, the tension momentarily easing. "Tell me about it. I'm just glad it's gone now. But seriously, with Rooster being on this mission and all these strange things happening, it's hard not to feel like we're in the middle of some cosmic chaos."

Shells tilted her head, studying Beatrice. "Have you talked to Rooster about any of this? I mean, about the breach, the weird suits, Miranda's antics?"

Beatrice sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. "No, not really. Our calls have been brief, and I didn't want to burden him with all these neighborhood dramas. He has enough on his plate with the mission."

Shells nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I get that.I don’t wanna share this with Bob either.” she leans on the table there, then jumps when a box of napkins topples to the ground, “Damn, fucking napkins- what’s your opinion on this? I asked Evelyn about it but you know how she is,right?”

"Evelyn is... cautious," Beatrice began, choosing her words carefully. "She grew up in a Navy household, so her default mode is often 'need-to-know.' She's not one to jump to conclusions or entertain wild theories. It's both a strength and a limitation."

Shells nodded, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Yeah, like she has this wall, you know? Protecting herself from getting too deep into things that might not directly concern her."

"Exactly," Beatrice affirmed. "And it's not a bad approach, especially in this situation. But...she seems suspicious enough to mention it to me." she shrugs, “I mean,she doesn’t know what's going on, not really…even if her father is the Vice-Admiral,I doubt he’d share it with her.”

Shells huffs, rubbing her forehead, “I guess so…” she frowns, “...do you–I mean, do you think that…this whole thing is a huge test?”

“It’s a lot of work for just a test,Shells.”

Shells leaned back, her eyes fixed on the flickering fluorescent lights above. "I mean, sure, it's a lot of work for a test."

Beatrice sighed, contemplating the possibilities. "I don't know, Shells. It's hard to wrap my head around everything."

Shells nodded in agreement. "And what's with the breach? It's not the usual security hiccup. Rooster and the guys seems genuinely concerned about it."

Beatrice tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table, a telltale sign of her deep contemplation. "Yeah,I know…I just,from here,so far away, is there anything we can do?"

“Well…we’re not Navy officials Bea.” Shells shrugs “We are married- well you and Ev are, I’m dating Bob - to Navy personnel so…”

Beatrice really hated feeling so lost.

Meanwhile,Rooster was still trying to wrap his head on the wreckage scene. He contacted his superiors who,honestly offered him no help in that regard. Basically just ‘shrugged’ and said they’d ‘talk back when they have more information.

The lack of assistance from his superiors only fueled Rooster's determination to uncover the truth. He knew that in the world of covert operations and intelligence, information was often compartmentalized, and not everyone was privy to the complete picture.

He jumps when he hears a door open, snapping his head back so hard his neck cracked and at the door, stood Jake who looked just as scared as he was “...Easy there,man,relax, it’s me.”

Rooster exhaled, a tension he hadn't fully realized gripping him releasing as he recognized Jake. The dim light in his office flickered, casting a play of shadows on the walls, "Sorry, Jake. It's been a long day."

Jake, his second-in-command and a trusted ally, stepped further into the room. "Long day is an understatement. What's going on with the higher-ups? Any word on the wreckage?"

Rooster rubbed his temples, weariness etched across his features. "Nothing substantial. They're playing the waiting game, telling me to be patient. But I can't afford to wait. I need answers."

Jake nodded, licking his lips "You know.” and he rubs his chin, “...I could always contact Cyclone directly…he is my father in law after all. And he’s a vice admiral.”

Rooster considered Jake's suggestion, then frowned, looking to the side “Yeah…I haven’t talked to him in a while…hm.” he rubs his chin, “...I…I think I’ll talk to him, yes.See what he can say.”

Jake remains there, “I’ll also have you know that, we’ll back you up if anything happens.” he is neutral, his voice quiet, but it means ‘if someone fucks you up, we’ll be there to punch back without hesitation’.

"Thanks, Jake. I'll reach out to Cyclone and see if he can shed some light on this situation. In the meantime, keep the team on standby. We might be diving deeper into this than we initially thought."

Jake saluted, a gesture of solidarity. "You got it, Rooster. We're ready for whatever comes our way."

With that, Jake left the room, leaving Rooster alone with his thoughts. He pondered the complexities of the situation, the layers of deception that seemed to shroud the unexplained wreckage. The room felt suffused with tension, a reflection of the uncertainties that lingered in the air.

As Rooster contemplated his next steps, he decided to reach out to Cyclone. Rooster dialed Cyclone's number, the soft hum of the connection resonating through the room. After a few rings, Cyclone's voice crackled through the line. "Rooster, it's been a while. What…makes you call my personal phone?”

The familiarity in Cyclone's voice eased some of the tension in Rooster's shoulders. "I…apologize sir but we've encountered a situation during a mission, and the higher-ups are keeping things tight-lipped. I was hoping you might have some insight."

Cyclone's tone shifted, "What's going on?"

Rooster proceeded to recount the events leading to the discovery of the mysterious wreckage. He shared the details of the scouting mission, the anomalies detected, and the subsequent investigation that had unearthed more questions than answers.

As Rooster spoke, Cyclone listened attentively. The subtle hum of electronic devices and distant chatter in the background indicated the busy atmosphere of a military command center. Cyclone's questions were incisive, delving into the specifics of the mission and the geopolitical implications.

"Hm."

“Sir?”

“...It was a trap you all evaded quickly. Nice thinking Lieutenant.”

Cyclone's acknowledgment carried a weight of approval. "I am…however surprised they didn’t tell you about this. We got information about these traps a few days ago." another heavy pause “...the people responsible were the same ones from your last mission, remember?”

How could he not?

Rooster hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I…see sir…what do you suggest we do then?"

Cyclone fell into a momentary silence before responding, "I will…talk to whoever is not giving you all information. This shouldn’t have happened.”

"Thank you, sir. We need all the information we can get to navigate through this mess.I…appreciate it." Rooster responded, shoulders relaxing.

Cyclone acknowledged the sentiment. "You've always had a knack for seeing through the smoke and mirrors, Rooster. It's why I assigned you to these missions. I'll get to the bottom of why you were kept in the dark. Until then,Lt."

As the call ended, Rooster leaned back in his chair, contemplating the information shared and just melts on his chair, absolutely spent.

“Fuck.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

29 notes · View notes

riftfic · 7 months

Text

I made a playlist 💙

No, this isn't the surprise. ;) Still working on that. Shouldn't be too long now. I tried to put everything in the order of events. It's mostly easy listening except for a few key moments. Some of it I listened to when writing. Some of it inspired me or reminded me of certain moments, or of character thoughts and feelings. I've included a Chapter Key under the cut :)

Chapter 1: No More (2023 Integrated Version on AO3) 1. Cobalt (Intro) 2. Be Still, My Tongue - Sans 3. A Reason to Hold On - Sans Chapter 2: Eclipse (2023 Integrated Version on AO3) 4. Reset - Frisk 5. 1001 - Sans to Papyrus 6. Insight XXXIV Chapter 3: The Machine 7. set adrift 8. Cherish 9. Catch Chapter 4: Golden Flowers 10. Fallen Down 11. Home (from "Undertale") 12. Ruins Chapter 5: There, Sometimes 13. EYE HAVE YOU - Flowey Fight 14. Waterfall (Undertale Remix) Chapter 6: Scales 15. A Way With You 16. Spear of Justice - From Sans' Perspective 17. Battle Against a True Hero (From Undertale) - From Frisk's Chapter 7: Your Brother 18. Plume - Undyne on Piano 19. I Wanted to Leave - Undyne on Piano 20. Stay Hollow (with mossy) - feat sans undertale lmao 21. On My Side - Sans to Frisk Chapter 8: Remember 22. But Why? 23. Stonewall Stone Fence - Frisk to Sans

Chapter 9: A Good Person 24. Alphys 25. Sacrilegium III 26. It's Raining Somewhere Else Chapter 10: Gray Ghosts 27. You Make Me Happy - up until Sans and Frisk argue 28. Another Medium Chapter 11: The Descent 29. Here We Are 30. Not Human - Frisk 31. Land of All - Sans (convince me woodkid doesn't have his voice) Chapter 12: The Experiment 32. Promise (Reprise) 33. Bone 34. Collapsing Sun 35. The Great Cataclysm 36. The World Spins Madly On - the aftermath Chapter 13: Encaged 37. empty crown - frisk 38. Across the Drift 39. Scars (Instrumental Version) 40. Summer Clouds - sans 41. Don't Leave Me Here Chapter 14: Human 42. Megalovania - Piano 43. BRIEF 44. Crawl 45. It's Alright 46. Promise - Sans to Frisk 47. everything i wanted - Frisk to Sans Chapter 15: Determination 48. Soul Mirror 49. His Theme (From "Undertale) 50. The Place You Promised to Show Me 51. OATH 52. Blooming (In C Minor) 53. Confrontation 54. Your Soul is Beautiful Chapter 16: Together, Apart 55. Ashes in the Wind 56. Find Yourself 57. Believe 58. Lovin' Me (feat. Phoebe Bridgers) - Sans and Frisk Chapter 17: Epilogue 59. I'll Be There Soon 60. Reunited (From Undertale) 61. Cobalt (Outro) lookit all dos chikinz amazing, you made it to the bottom here, you may behold our beloved:

#playlist #undertale #undertale fanfic #fanfiction #Spotify #happy listening :)#or not #you do you~

37 notes · View notes

onboardsorasora · 4 months

Text

🥂Enchanted AU: Christmas Part 26🥂

🍾Happy New Year!!🍾 I hope everyone has a wonderful new year!!!!

Part 1 | Christmas Part 1 | Last Chapter

Part 26/Christmas Part 13

Max cursed the traffic he encountered on his drive back from the airport in Nice. He'd managed to keep his worry from his family the entire ride to drop them off. Everyone was in great spirits, the boys were excited and asking to come back next year. His mother had been suggesting to alternate Christmases between Monaco and Maaseik now.

Only Vic had clocked that maybe something was wrong. He'd managed to get her to leave it though and she'd left after a long hug and a meaningful look.

After he saw them through to the section for private charters, he'd jumped back into the rental car and driven as quickly as he could. He had distantly contemplated if he should have returned the car to the airport outlet and chartered a helicopter back to Monaco, but ultimately decided that the wait for the helicopter might have been just as long as driving.

He found himself wishing he had been frivolous in his impatience though, because this traffic was atrocious. It was late, the early parts of the morning now. Dinner had been great and it had taken a while to get the boys ready to leave. They hadn't wanted to go home at all, but the promise of coming back and snow at home had eventually calmed them.

It had rained on the drive to the airport, a steady cold drizzle. It was colder than it had been all December so far, so Max wasn't exactly surprised when he noticed the raindrops thicken to slush when they hit his windshield. In standstill traffic now, the rain turned to snow, a dusting of it.

He idly wished the boys were still with him so he could show them the rarity. Then his mind went to Daniel who must be seeing it as well and he wondered what he was thinking. There was a twinge in his chest as he thought about Daniel. His fingers tapped the wheel with his impatience to get home to him. He needed to smooth things out.

The look Daniel had given him was heartbreaking. Max knew what he was thinking and knew that it was going to be maybe worse than he imagined. He shouldn't have lied, he shouldn't have withheld the truth. He should have just told Daniel that yes, he did change his plans and that it was ok.

He was so worried about Sassy spilling the beans that he didn't stop to consider that maybe he should have just told Daniel. Had the conversation, assuaged his fears of ruining plans. Of being a burden. Daniel wasn't a burden, he was everything but that.

The drive was slow, the snow had made the roads slippery and caused a few accidents. Max withheld his natural inclination to floor it and kept it to a normal speed to get home.

He rushed to park and ran to the garage elevator, pressing the buttons impatiently and glaring at the overhead displays. He heard Daniel's chuckles in his head that pressing the button a lot won't make the lift move faster. This was maybe the one time he wished he had magic.

He barreled into his home, the front door opening easily and letting him into the now quiet space. The light in the kitchen was on but the tree was unlit and everywhere else was dark. It was quiet.

Sassy jumped down from somewhere, he hadn't seen where and chirped at him, brushing her head against his hand. He petted her absently and he looked around frantically. Where was Daniel?

“Daniel?” Max stepped into the hallway, the lights were off in the bedrooms. Jimmy ran underfoot. “Sassy, where is Daniel?” He walked out onto the patio, the door had been closed to keep the cold air out. He wasn't out there either.

Sassy meowed and Max swung around to look at her, she was sitting by the door. What did that mean? Did Daniel leave after all? Where did he go?

Max couldn’t help the worry he felt churning in his gut. It was late, and cold. It was snowing for god's sake. He took out his phone and dialed Daniel’s number; it didn’t ring. It went straight to the automated voicemail.

He did a sweep of the whole apartment again, going into each empty room. He barely noted that the guest rooms were already taken care of. He just noticed the absence of Daniel.

Shit.

He threw himself on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, hands covering his face. Shit.

Sassy chirped again from her position as sentry at the door and then Max heard the sound of a key going into the lock. Daniel always forgot the code and had held onto Max’s spare key. The door opened and Max dove into a standing position. He watched with wild eyes as Daniel stumbled in.

His head was down, bowed to look at Sassy who was bumping her head against his leg. His shoulders were wet, and so was his hair as if he’d been out in the snow and it melted on him. Daniel let the door close behind him and he crouched to pick Sassy up, she didn’t seem to mind being held to his cold sweatshirt. She purred loudly, Max could hear it from where he was, and continued rubbing her head in Daniel’s chin and face.

Max couldn’t quietly watch anymore, Daniel looked fragile and Max needed to fix this. “Daniel.” He called out softly and Daniel froze, his head whipping up to see him. Max clenched his fist at his side, Daniel’s eyes were puffy and red. He had been crying.

“Oh..” was all Daniel said, tucking his head further into Sassy's spotted fur.

“W-where did you go?”

“The roof.” He mumbled. There was a garden terrace, Sophie loved it.

“Your phone?” Max felt like he didn’t know what to say or what to ask.

“Battery’s dead probably.”

“Daniel I–“

“Michelle is coming to get me.” Daniel's shoulders curled inwards some more.

“What?” Max's body felt cold.

Max stepped forward and stopped, his hand outstretched. He felt unmoored, adrift. Daniel was leaving?

“You want to leave?” Max croaked.

“I’ll go home tomorrow, so you don’t have to like worry about me anymore. I know… I know you made a lot of… changes because of me and I’m sorry. It's probably best if I g-go.” Daniel kept looking down at the ground, he’d had a lot of time to think in the last few hours. A lot of time to hide away and cry a little. Or a lot. He’d been surprised to see the snow and then saddened because he truly couldn’t enjoy it.

Max had lied to him, looked him in the face and lied. At least he hadn’t pinky promised, Daniel wasn’t sure how he’d feel if Max had broken that level of oath. He knew Max was a busy person, knew he had a lot to do. He never meant to be here this long, maybe. Never meant to be such a burden to him. He would have understood if Max needed to go to Belgium, that was his tradition. Michelle had had Daniel’s passport for weeks now, he could have left already. Been out of Max’s hair.

Everyone said Daniel wasn’t a burden, but he was. He’d always been one. He didn’t mean to be, it always just happened that way. Micheal was a lot of things; a bad person, a bad boyfriend, an asshole. But he was right.

Daniel shivered and sneezed.

“You should take a shower and get out of those wet clothes.” Max mumbled. Daniel nodded and set Sassy back down on the floor. He kept his head ducked, shoulders tense to his ears, as if– Max felt sick at the thought. As if he was waiting for Max to lash out at him, verbally or otherwise. He walked quickly into his room and Max heard the door shut quietly. Max sighed loudly into the heavy quiet, he pressed the heels of his palm into his eyeballs and cursed.

Next Chapter

#🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸#maxiel #max/daniel #enchanted au #enchanted au: christmas #disney princess dan

19 notes · View notes