#same as float she has this girls face and memories but she has been so fractured and manipulated that like. Who could she be now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avocad1s · 1 year

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Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: You learn of recent events that occurred in Teyvat and Lumine and Nahida search for your whereabouts.

Characters Mentioned: Nahida, Lumine, and some other surprises

Note: Part one did way better than I was expecting, thanks so much for all of the love on it :>

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You’ve been warned. Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part One Part Two (You are here!) Part Three

This is partly beta read but it’s also the middle of the night and I’m half sleep so… yeah :)

At the same time, in another nation.

Despite not being the God of Wisdom, Morax, going by the name Zhongli now, would consider himself intelligent.

Yet this was the first time in centuries that he had felt this conflicted.

When his God first returned he was overjoyed, finally he would be able to talk with them again. Yet that feeling of ecstasy didn’t last long, soon he noticed something odd about their behavior.

At first he brushed it off, The Divine One was gone for a while and maybe during their journey the activities they used to enjoy didn’t make them happy anymore. Yet it was as if their entire personality had changed and he couldn’t help the feeling that kept growing in the back of his mind.

Doubt.

If anyone else knew about this, he knows for a fact he would be replaced and possibly killed by The Divine One themselves. So he pushed this feeling down, pretending that nothing was amiss for as long as he could.

Well until he decided to vacate his duties as the Geo Archon.

With the help of the Traveler he had planned his own funeral, and right after, he gave his Gnosis to the Fatui.

Even though the Traveler has questioned why he had given away his Gnosis to the nefarious group, she quickly let it go once Zhongli had explained the contract they had made. Despite not knowing the true details of the contract.

“So in exchange, you want my Gnosis?”

“Indeed. I think that’s a fair exchange, don’t you?”

“I agree… I accept the terms of this contract…”

“If things go as planned I will send one of my Harbingers to collect your Gnosis, Morax.”

Zhongli shakes his head clearing his mind of the conversation he had with the Tsaritsa in the past. He sips his tea mindlessly listening to his boss go on about another two for one deal she had thought of.

In Sumeru

“Where could they have run off to?” Paimon groans, “Paimon is getting super tired.”

“You don’t even walk, you float.” Lumine retorts a deadpan look on her face.

The fairy scoffs, “floating gets tiresome too you know!”

Lumine decides not to respond to Paimons defense on being tired, instead she looks down at Nahida who was walking closely next to her.

“Hey Nahida…” Lumine begins. “When you said you had your own suspicions, what did you mean?”

The Dendro Archon’s steps falter, “Traveler I have a lot of trust in you. You saved me from the Sages and done so much more for Sumeru and because of this I’ll tell you.”

Lumine stops walking putting her full attention on her. Paimon, who was just as curious, stops as well.

“Not long after you saved me and I noticed I had missed the descent of The Creator, I went into Irminsul to see what memories there was of them so I knew more about them.”

“Wait, Irminsul has memories of The Creator?” Paimon gasps.

Nahida nods, “Yes, The Creator is the one who made Teyvat after all. Anyways-“ The Archon brings her hand up to her chin, “All of the memories Irminsul had were complete contradictions to how they are now. The only thing that is the same is how they look.”

Lumine’s eyes widen, “so do you think… that the one we’re looking for is the true Creator?”

The girl let’s out a sigh, “Truthfully, I want to talk to them and get a read on them myself. There is a possibility they are the true God .”

“Does anyone else know about this? The Akademiya?”

Nahida shakes her head quickly, “This is very sensitive information and it could put others lives at risk, but I know that if I’m correct, you’d be the best one to help me.”

Lumine nods trying to ignore the feeling of dread crawling up her back.

“We should probably keep moving.”

Sumeru was much different than the last time you’ve seen it.

Besides it being more advanced, it gave off the feeling that it was more peaceful. Maybe the citizens finally started dreaming.

You let out a huff as you stare down at a river you had to cross. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem since you would just use your abilities to do what you needed, but you were trying not to use your powers at all.

When you had gave out the Gnosis to the Seven Archons, you gave them a bit of your grace which is how they became Gods in the first place. Not only did the Gnosis give them the power to wield elemental energy without a vision but it also gave them a closer connection to you.

So anytime you use your abilities, the Archons would know.

You reach down pulling off your shoes, it was already annoying that you had to walk, the last thing you want to do is deal with wet shoes.

“Hey!” A high pitched voice called out, “I think I found them.”

You let out another sigh recognizing the voice instantly. It was that weird… floating… creature that tagged along with that outlander. The sound of hurried footsteps caused you to turn around.

You were right. It was the blonde girl and her companion but this time they were with someone else?

Your eyes widen a bit, but not enough to give away your shock.

This girl with them was definitely one of the Archons, the Dendro one to be exact. Yet this wasn’t the Dendro Archon the last time you had came to Teyvat so that must mean…

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Lumine says in between breaths.

You smile, “I appreciate your care, but you didn’t have to go all out of your way just because you found me in the desert. I feel fine no-“

“I met The Creator.” Lumine interrupts, “you two share the same face.”

Well damn, you didn’t keep this a secret for very long.

“So you know…” you say calmly to them. They all share glances with each other then look back at you.

“How is that possible?” Paimon asks, “how can two Creators exist at the same time?”

You drop your shoe’s sliding them back on before crossing your arms, “well I’m guessing since you’re not attacking me or trying to arrest me you have your doubts about the ‘Creator’… I’m guessing that it’s Kusanali’s doing.”

The Archon gives you a perplexed look, “you know my name?”

You nod. “Of course I do, with my connection to Teyvat it would only make sense, right?”

Well there was no point in acting ignorant now, they had already confronted you with the information.

“So…” you drag out, “why did you come all the way out here to find me?”

Lumine leans back and forth on her feet awkwardly, “well actually The Creator…er-“ she was hesitant, as if she didn’t know what to call them, “they asked me to bring you to them.”

You nod understandingly, “and are you going to do as they asked?”

Lumine looks down at Nahida then back at you, “well after talking with Nahida, I have my doubts if they are truly who they say they are.”

You want to smile, but fight it. It seems that the God of Wisdom is still living up to the reputation. Even if it is someone else.

“Well I guess there’s no reason to lie anymore. I am who you believe but I have no way to prove it to you yet. It would make my presence more…noticeable to others.”

Nahida gives you a smile, “I believe you. Proof isn’t necessary.”

Lumine and Paimon whip their head to stare at the white haired girl, “what do you mean proof isn’t necessary? You just said-“

“I’m know.” She interjects, “but now that I am standing here face-to-face with them. I can feel the special connection that Irminsul and the scriptures deep within the Akademiya we’re talking about.”

Nahida looks back at you and continues, “Lumine, I’m not sure if you feel it but standing here with them now I feel a warmth that I don’t get from the one on the Throne. Not to mention that not a single monster had attacked us since we had gotten into a certain radius of them.”

Lumine’s jaw drops a bit as she watches Nahida give you a small bow a look of guilt in her eyes. “I apologize for my foolishness, I should’ve known that they weren’t who they say they were.”

This time you don’t fight the smile from forming on your lips, “you don’t have to apologize, whoever they are, them pretending to be me was supposed to be uncanny. If the Archons could tell from one look that they wasn’t The Creator then I doubt they would’ve tried.”

Lumine was still a bit unconvinced. She couldn’t trust Gods that easily since one had taken her brother away from her. However she does trust Nahida and if Nahida believes you are who you say, she will go along with it too. She hopes that she’ll have the time to ask you about the unknown God or even Khaenri'ah.

“So there’s actually something I wanted to ask you…” you sit down in the soft grass crossing your legs. “Being an Archon, I’m guessing you spent lots of time with the one on the throne right?”

Nahida nods.

“Could you tell me… have they changed anything?”

It was silent for a moment as the God of Wisdom hesitates to answer your question.

“Actually there is one thing.”

You perk up giving her your full attention.

“They want to invade Snezhnaya… They are trying to get the other Archons to declare war on the nation.”

“What!” You exclaim, “why? Why would they do that.”

“Well the Cryo Archon, the Tsaritsa, had closed off her nation a few years ago and won’t let anyone in, even them. No one is for sure why, but when one of her Harbingers were in Sumeru I tried to ask him and he said ‘we will all know eventually’”

“Oh Paimon remembers him,” you notice her shudder at the thought, “he was super creepy and dangerous!”

You let out a breath bring your hand up to you mouth, “I have to act quickly then. I can’t let that happen… Teyvat has already lost enough.” Your voice softens at the end, since you were mostly talking to yourself but judging from the looks on the girls faces, you assume they heard you.

“Is there anyway we can help?” Lumine asks suddenly. She didn’t even realize the words had left her mouth until it was too late, almost as if she had no control over herself anymore. Like she had the dying urge to help you.

You stare at her, “I’ve never met anyone who wanted to help a world they’re not even from. You’re different than others I’ve met.”

Your voice was so genuine and sweet that Lumine couldn’t help the smile that went across her face or the warm feeling the enveloped her at the sound of your praise.

“Well there is something you could do… all of you.” You stand from your spot on the ground, dusting any dirt off your clothing.

“Go along with the False Creator, make them believe you are loyal to them.”

“How can we do that?” The Traveler questions, “they said to bring you back.”

“Oh that’s right…” you mutter, “tell them I’m dead.”

“You want us to what?” Paimon shrieks.

“If the False Creator believes I’m dead they’ll stop looking for me and then no one else will be aware of my existence.”

“Wait, what are you going to do?” Nahida says.

“I’m heading to Liyue.” You simply explain.

“Alone?” Lumine says, “I can go with you. A lot of people trust me in Liyue.”

You give her a smile, despite how reserved she seemed to be when you had first told them about your true nature. Now she was basically jumping at the idea of helping you, maybe you had a stronger affect on her than she wants to admit.

“Thanks but I’ll be fine. I’m used to traveling alone anyways.”

The Traveler deflates a bit when you decline but nods.

“I’m counting on you… Lumine, Nahida, and Paimon.” You confess as you walk back toward the body of water you had plans to cross until they had interrupted.

The group of girls watch you walk off, once you were out of sight, they turn around heading back towards Sumeru City.

“What are we going to do now.” Paimon says once they start walking back.

“You two should tell the False Creator that they are dead, I’m going to enter Irminsul and see if I can find anything that will help.”

Lumine nods.

Once again the Traveler was thrown off their journey of meeting the Seven, but for once, she actually didn’t mind it one bit.

Note: I got a bit carried away with this part… and this isn’t how I wanted to end it originally. But I’ll just add that to part three instead.

Taglist: @esthelily

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#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau lumine #sagau nahida #sagau zhongli #self aware genshin #genshin cult

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delaber · 3 months

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Firestarter pt. 2 (Loki x Reader)

Summary: After two months of amazing hate-fucking, Loki accidentally lets his newfound feelings show - and suddenly, the anger’s back in her eyes. Only this time, she has the upper hand.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, pining

Words: 5K

Find part 1 here

"Yessss that's it," he hisses and smacks her ass.

It's two months later and they're still at it - not every night, but almost.

He'd otherwise feared it a one time thing with the way she'd so quickly recovered the first night after he'd pulled three astonishing orgasms out of her, but had been positively thrilled to find her yelling at him on his doorstep the very next evening. He honestly cannot even remember what he did to upset her that much, but he knows it must've made her really angry because he vividly remembers three minutes later with his hands full of ass and his tongue buried inside of her.

She's calmed down since then; he doesn't have to provoke her to get her wet anymore but they still fuck like it's the end of the world.

It's the rawest, dirtiest, most destructive sex he's ever had and it's magnificent, carnal, rough! He slaps her ass as hard as he can, eats her beautiful cunt, forces his fingers inside of her until she screams his name, lets her tie him up while she tastes all of him.

It's been two secretive months of bite marks and purple tints on his skin. Of long, red scratches down his back and raven-black hair being pulled out in the most delicious of ways.

She - is - incredible! He wants to cum - fuck, she deserves the praise!

He lets her know.

"Fuck me, Loki," she hisses his name the way that he loves and it sends tingles all the way down to his balls, makes his head float up to the heavens.

"As you please," he flips them around, lies her down on her back, towers over her and admires her pliant body with his hand caressing down over her soft stomach. He still cannot believe he's this lucky!

He pushes himself back inside of her with force, watches her sweet little face contract with pleasure as her mouth falls open in an inaudible sigh.

"Darling girl," he hisses and feels her tighten around him as he diligently slides into her silk. "You feel amazing!" He leans forwards, pinches her beautiful nipple, sucks on her jawline, ruts hit hips against her to the vulgar sound of her hypnotising wetness swallowing him whole.

"Oh," she moans and he almost shivers when her eyelids close halfway with every meticulously-placed thrust of his hips while he moves with control, careful not to let go and cut the moment short - he never has her afterwards...

"Loki," she hums ever so sweetly in his ear, scrapes her nails down over his already raw-clawed shoulder blades, wraps her legs around his back, contracts around him while he's concentrating on the entirety that is her.

He saved her, he thinks to himself and gasps when his seidr begins to glow at the memory. He's thought of it a million times already and still, the mere sight of the scar on her shoulder makes his chest expand - expand - expand!

He connects his forehead with hers, finds her wide eyes and slows his hips down to a tender pace.

He was worthy enough to save her!

Their connection feels like something resembling faith. Like branches weaved at the foot of Yggdrasil, and he sensually rolls his hips and kisses her deeply, fucks her like a lover.

It's suddenly slow and caring. Soft and all-consuming. She seems to love it, and without warning, she's raking her soft finger pads through his long hair, licking his throat like a kitten while he expertly slowly guides himself in and out of her tight wetness. She whispers his name affectionately and everything glows brighter than before.

"Darling," his tongue slides into her mouth again, caresses her lazily, doubles as a non-verbal whisper telling her that he feels the same. He feels the same - and she immediately picks up on the fluorescent seidr that's filling up his chest cavity; she gasps, flutters around him, and she comes - loudly!

"Oh God!" she closes her eyes and tips over the edge while her perfect inner walls contract violently and squeeze him tight.

He's never heard such beautiful, long moans before as her fingers grab onto his curls and she gently pulls him with her, fills him up with sparks while he fucks her slowly.

He can feel every nerve ending in his body being pulled taut as a flash bow as his seidr vibrates and he finally spills inside her embracing heat to the music of her breaths against his ear.

"My sweet girl," he growls as he involuntarily falls down from his high and pulls her close while she whimpers like a wounded animal. "My goddess!" he kisses her throat, rakes his teeth across her humid skin, trails his hand down between them, ready to spoil her over and over again with his fingers, his tongue, his cock! She deserves it all and he's desperate to have her in his room a little longer. He wants her to stay forever.

He can feel the intense bond between them tightening and he slowly starts moving his hips again while his fingers find her clit.

A pang of warmth strikes his belly when he looks at her pretty face, and he cannot help the desperately sincere "you are so beautiful," that escapes his lips as he leans down to kiss her. "I want you to spend the night."

The change on her face comes in a matter of milliseconds. Suddenly, the all-consuming bliss is replaced. First, by confusion and not even moments later by the scorching anger he knows so well. "What the fuck, Loki??" she pushes at his clammy chest, "what are you doing?"

At first, he's not sure if they've resumed their regular game of cat and mouse so he keeps toying with her delicate clit the way that he knows she loves. "What am I doing?" he licks her throat and teases her asshole with his middle finger, "I'm making you come - what does it look like I'm doing?"

"No!" she pushes him again and he finally lets her escape from between his legs when he realises that she's not joking. "What the fuck was that?!"

Confused, he watches her stand from the bed. "...I'm not following you?"

"You're slow-fucking me now?" she hisses as she quickly pulls on her top, hides away her body as if he did something detestable. "Forehead to forehead like you're in love with me or something?"

It stings. "Excuse me?!"

She huffs as she forcefully yanks on her jeans. "I thought we agreed on what this was!"

"We do," he positions himself on the edge of the bed with his hands grabbing onto the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white with humiliation. "I don't understand what the issue here is."

"Did you enchant me?"

"Enchant you?" He barks, offended. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No - I..." She huffs and looks as if she's about to pull out her own hair in frustration. "You did something different!” She says accusingly.

"I slowed down."

"Well I didn't like it!"

"You didn't like it?" He repeats, baffled. It's his most stunning performance yet; mostly due to the way she so beautifully reacted to him, and now she's trying to make him believe that she didn't like it?! "Excuse me but I'm going to have to disagree with that. I made you come harder than ever before; don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

She sends him an annoyed side eye. "I was caught up in the moment."

"So was I!"

"That's not the point!"

"Indulge me then!"

They stare at each other, more confused than anything else and the silence between them is eating away at him.

"Tell me what I did," he pleads with a desperation that's unlike him while he instinctively reaches out for her hand although he knows it's a bad idea, "- so I won't repeat it next time."

He's right; it is a bad idea, because she immediately pushes his hand away with new-found flames in her eyes. "There won't be a next time," she says determinedly and with that, she gathers her shoes and storms out the door. Slams it shut.

***

She avoids him. Turns on her heel every time he enters a room, looks straight through him when they pass each other in the hallway, acts like they've barely even spoken a word - and he hates it! Hates the desperation, the emptiness of her face when he's the only one in the compound that knows her like this.

It reminds him of his lonely childhood when he would walk the golden halls of the palace alone, desperate for an ounce of the attention Thor was naturally given.

He gets the sudden urge to cause rampage like he did back then. Break treasured possessions, spread lies. But he's painfully aware that he's only at the tower as long as the Avengers want him there, so he behaves himself and tries to shove down the lonely howls from inside his chest.

***

Four days and seven excruciating encounters have to pass before she finally, graciously stands still long enough to let him speak to her.

It's a rainy afternoon and he's reading in the big winged chair by the fireplace when she unexpectedly comes into view.

She's walking back from the gym with her gaze fixed on the blonde man next to her, and as per usual, Loki's every muscle tightens by the sound of her voice alone, but this time it's for a whole different reason too because Steve Rogers is shirtless in all his virtuous glory and she's giggling at everything he's saying as they walk straight past Loki and disappear into the kitchen without sparing him a glance.

The silence that follows is deafening.

He knows that Rogers is the most vanilla man on Midgard - and definitely way too boring to satisfy her in bed - but the two of them have always been a little too chummy for his taste, so when Loki faintly hears Rogers call her sweetheart from the other side of the wall, there's no doubt he has to do something, so he pushes open the double doors to the kitchen, praying to the allfathers that he looks like a threat to the mighty Captain.

It's evident that Loki, ever so rudely, has just disturbed Rogers in the middle of a sentence but the guy is still so annoyingly polite that he nods respectfully in greeting.

Meanwhile, she only briefly looks up from her sandwich-in-the-making to shoot Loki an unimpressed glance before her eyes fall back down to her plate with a theatrical scoff. It makes Steve Rogers look curiously between the two of them with his eyebrows knitted closely together.

Loki gets the feeling that she's putting on an uncomfortable show only to get him to leave, but he's determined to talk to her so he stands his ground and starts flickering through the compound's tea selection achingly slowly just to piss her off.

"- what I mean is -" Steve Rogers continues as if Loki hasn't just barged in with daggers in his eyes. "I can teach you that leg takedown if you'd like? I'm sure Buck wouldn't mind sparring with Sam again some time later this week."

Loki pauses at Earl Grey and lets his gaze slip over to her.

"Yeah?" she hums with a cute little smile, "that sounds like fun. What about Tuesday?"

Her words have Steve Rogers nodding with excitement as he grabs his uninspiring ham-and-cheese sandwich from off the kitchen counter and walks towards the dining table in the next room. Even his tastebuds are bland. "It's a deal, sweetheart," he says.

Sweetheart. Loki's going to vomit.

He contains himself long enough to ensure the man's out of earshot until he angrily hisses out a "What are you doing?". He bites his tongue to stop himself from asking about whether she's interested in fucking the Captain or not. He has to tread carefully now that he finally has her on her own.

She sighs before looking up at him and he has to bite back a gulp when their eyes finally meet for longer than a tenth of a second. "...What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to talk to you. I want to know what horrible thing I did to have you ignoring me like this!"

"I already told you," she crosses her arms over her chest. "You've gone soft."

"...Soft?" He repeats in disbelief while staring at her. Had this been any other situation, he might've even laughed. He's never been referred to as soft before. "Excuse me but did you hit your head?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Loki..." she places her palms on the stone table top that serves as a physical barrier between them and looks him straight in the eye. It's dominatingly beautiful and it gives him the chills. "You've gone from hate-fucking me like a demon in heat to calling me your girl and telling me I'm beautiful."

"As if I would want to bed someone who looks like a trout!" He bites back, suddenly annoyed with her. She's right, of course, but it's not like he's about to let her know.

She responds to his clap-back with yet another sigh. "I thought we agreed it was a casual affair. No strings. And, granted, I hold some of the blame too; I probably should've stopped you when I started noticing your attitude towards me changing - I wasn't sure of anything, of course, but the slow-fucking?" She shoots him an unimpressed glance. "That one takes the cake!"

His mouth goes dry. "I don't understand what you're implying," he lies and it makes her scoff.

"Why can't you just admit that maybe the sex meant more to you than it did to me?"

He's taken aback by her bluntness. But it's her definitive use of the past tense that truly throws him off. He doesn't even have it in him to pretend otherwise, and with his silence, he's involuntarily admitting that the sex did indeed mean something to him. Exactly what, he's not sure of but something. He tries not to let it show.

"Loki," she cocks her head to the side with a lick of her lips and it makes it harder to pretend. "I'm not the girl for you. If you want to play house, I suggest you go find somebody else."

***

He dreams of black cats. Of Hel. Of feeling like the smallest man on earth while the Bifrost splinters before him and takes away the bridge to everything he loves.

It's been six days without a knock on his door. He shouldn't care that it's been this long - he doesn't, he constantly tells himself but keeps replaying their last conversation while the teeth of Fenrir sink into his lungs. He saved her - is that why she let him fuck her? Because she felt obligated to? Because of debt? It makes his heart burn.

"Loki."

He looks up at his brother and blinks a few times. Truth be told, he'd completely forgotten he was even there. "...What?"

"You're not listening."

"Yes, yes I was," he racks his brain for the last details he'd registered from Thor's gripping tale, but suspects he's been zoned out for at least five minutes.

Thor knits his eyebrows together, tilts his head disgustingly compassionately. "You're quiet," he states flatly and looks almost concerned. It makes the hairs on the back of Loki's neck prickle. He misses when Thor was less intuitive - before the Avengers, when all he cared about were tits and battle and wielding that stupid hammer.

"I don't remember asking your opinion."

"Just stating the obvious," Thor shrugs and thankfully goes back to the lamb chop on his plate, "one thing being that you're usually plotting something when you're this quiet - though something tells me your head is somewhere completely different as of late."

"Well if you want to keep yours connected to the rest your body, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

His brother leans in close and looks as if he's about to say something vulgar. "It's her again, isn't it?" he whispers as if he doesn't dare speak her name.

"Thor," Loki warns with a sharp side-eye.

"You can tell me."

"I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because you're being nosey."

"Can't I take an interest in my brother's well-being?"

"No. Now shut it!"

"I think she likes you."

It hurts more than he's willing to admit. "Thor!"

"But I do!"

"Shut up!"

He doesn't listen; "are you in love with her?"

A burning sea of vulnerability washes over him right in front of his brother's eyes while he desperately treads water. "She should be so lucky!" Loki hisses as a reflex and immediately feels his stomach churn when his brother grins and lifts his eyebrows in amusement.

"You are!"

Loki points his knife towards Thor, angrier than he's been in a while. "I'm only going to say this once! Stick your nose in my business and I will end you!”

***

They're on a mission in Vienna when Loki's knocked unconscious.

He doesn't remember much apart from an object hitting him on his upper back, a scream of his name - and suddenly, he's back on the rumbling quinjet with a splitting head ache.

He awakes with a groan and coughs up something black and slimy that he immediately spits out on the floor. Charming.

He's dizzy and he's seeing double but he wishes it was his sense of smell that was wonky because he can almost taste his brother's armpits in the air and it's revolting.

"Thor," his voice is hoarse and he coughs again while trying to remember how he ended up here. "What the hell happened?"

With difficulty, he tries lifting his head but is immediately pushed backwards by a hand already resting on his shoulder.

"You hit your head," his brother mumbles from beside him, "I had to carry you back here."

"Well that's embarrassing," Loki mumbles and tries moving his head again but hisses when his neck tenses painfully.

"Lie still," a small voice beckons. It's lighter than his brother's; more delicate, feminine, and the well-known flip of his insides shows its ugly face. Small fingers gently rub his shoulder and first then does he realise that it's not his brother's hand that's resting on his body.

"You're here?" He asks, confused while trying to focus on a spot in the ceiling. "And here I thought we were busy ignoring each other."

"I can keep doing so if you want me to," she says defiantly but sits completely still.

"Be my guest!"

"...Erm," Thor clears his throat in second-hand embarrassement, stands up from his position on the floor and points over his shoulder, "I have to - uh - be over... there."

Smooth.

The fingers that are resting on Loki's body feel more intimate now that they're alone, and he wonders if she can feel it too because she slowly retracts her hand although he wishes she wouldn't. A painful reminder of how she feels.

"Why are you here?" he bites.

"Thor was completely out of it," she says hesitantly, "He thought you were dead. He needed me."

"Thor needed you?” He scoffs, “Well, Thor's not here now so I guess you can leave."

She sighs loudly, "Do you really want me to leave?"

"Yes," he lies. He can still feel the warm spot that her fingers have left behind on his shoulder. It's getting colder now. "You made things quite clear the other day. It was a casual accquaintance, nothing else. There's really no need for you to pity me like this."

"You're hurt."

"I'm hurt? Yes I'm fucking hurt! It feels as if a bloody wall fell on me!"

"That's not what I meant..."

He moves his head through the pain, focuses on her the best he can. "Are you seriously fishing for a compliment right now?"

"W-what?"

"Do you want me to admit to whatever it is you're implying? It won't happen because contrary to your belief, I'm not in love with you." Another lie. "I saved you, you let me fuck you. We're even."

"That's not..." she starts but doesn't end her sentence. Her chest is heaving in heavy pants but she's not saying anything and the tension is thick again. She looks defiant but there's something she's not telling him.

"Was there something else?"

"No, I-"

"Then tell me what happened to my head or be on your way."

"I don't know what happened," she mumbles and gets up from the floor without sparing him a glance. "I wasn't there."

***

"It's a concussion," the new Doctor states the obvious and Loki has to contain himself from rolling his eyes.

"Great, can I go now?" He feels vulnerable enough without the diagnosis, and he's already half-way out the door - away from the prying eyes of the rest of the team.

"Hold up, mr Odinson," the Doctor says and the name feels like another dagger in his back. Loki wants to strangle him. "In your condition, it's important to take precautions."

"Don't tell me we have to start pampering him now!" Stark huffs and Loki's about to snarl something nasty back at him when Thor interrupts:

"Like what, Doctor?"

The Doctor turns back to Loki. "To prevent your condition from worsening, it's important that you take it easy for a couple of days. No TV, no straining exercise. You need rest."

"Right..."

"That being said, you have to make sure you're woken up every two hours. Have someone ask you a simple question like your full name, your birthday, the name of your home town."

"My home town?" He sighs. He doesn't want to think of Asgard right now. He feels lonely enough as it is.

"Something like that," the Doctor brushes it off with a shrug. "Do you have someone who can help you?"

"I assure you, that won't be necessary," Loki tries impatiently. He wants to get out of there. "After all, I am a God."

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes from behind him before she speaks up. "It's fine, Doc," she sighs, "I'll do it."

***

They're lying side by side on his mattress. It's three in the morning and it's the first time she's even in his room for anything other than sex. It's not not pleasant to be lying side by side in the dark, it's just different and neither of them know what to say. He doesn't like that she volunteered. He would've preferred dying in his sleep over the roaring silence.

He sneaks a quick peak at her beauty and accidentally lets out a sigh he thought only Thor was capable of and it seems to bring her to life.

She blinks and rolls over to her side, looks at him with distance in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy..." he admits though he's not exactly sure if it's due to the concussion or being this close to her again.

"You should sleep," she says so achingly caring that it itches in his fingers to reach out and touch her. "- I'll make sure to wake you up every couple of hours and see if everything's okay."

He nods. "Sounds like you're in for a long night."

She gently shrugs and rolls onto her back again, stares back up at the ceiling. Her chest is rising and falling steadily and he doesn't understand how she can be so calm about the situation when it feels as if everything inside of him is burning with longing.

"Why did you volunteer?" the words tumble from his mouth without having been thought all the way through. "Why not just let Thor do it? He's my brother after all. He would've."

She chews her bottom lip, stares upwards as if stargazing. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She sounds sincere and he cannot help the furrow of his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Why?" She asks slowly, hesitantly. "Well... you've seemed out of it lately.”

"And you think it's your fault," it comes out more like a sour statement rather than a curious question so he's surprised to see pain behind her eyes when she finally turns her attention back on him.

"I know it is."

"Don't flatter yourself. I already told you it was merely sex for me. It didn't mean anything," he lies and regrets he even asked her in the first place. He wants to sleep. To get everything overwith and not stay in this moment of torture with her lying in his bed, rejecting him. Again.

"Come on," she sighs, "can't we just be honest for once?"

"You say that as if you've been dishonest...?"

"I guess I have," she hesitates and for once, he actually holds his tongue while she considers her next words. "I - uh - I get defensive when people get to close," she shuffles and looks away in embarrassement. "I guess it was easier to just push you away than admit to either of us what was going on. I tried telling you on the quinjet,” she slowly turns her gaze back on him with her eyes darting across his face. His heart picks up its pace.

"What are you saying?"

"Loki," she sighs and closes her eyes again. Speaks so painfully slowly that he almost cannot take it. "- you got close... When you slowed down and loved me that night, I - I felt it all. What I've been trying to deny."

"Felt what?" He tries as slowly as his racing pulse will allow him to speak. He doesn't want to scare her away again by assuming anything.

"I like you," she finally admits. "A lot."

Surprisingly, he's not even relieved. With the rollercoaster he's been through since he first met her, he's not sure he dares believe it, and a few seconds of silence follow between them while he carefully contemplates and chooses his next words.

On her request, he finally decides on telling her the truth. "I guess it wouldn't be too surprising if I admitted to the same thing."

She moves her head a little closer to him and places her hand between them. The smallest hint of a smile is playing on her lips. "Not really..."

A stab of a reminding thought pinches him beneath his ribs and he has to ask her. "You're not just saying this because you think you owe it to me, are you?" he nods to the scar on her shoulder "because I saved your life."

"No?" she furrows her eyebrows, searches his face.

"I don't want you to feel indebted to me. Despite what I told you back then, there were no ulterior motives to my actions. You don't owe me anything. I just did it to save you. I just wanted you to be okay.”

"Loki, I don't feel indebted," she lightly shakes her head. She looks sincere. "- do you really not remember what happened in Vienna?"

He slowly shakes his head. "Not really. An object hitting me in the back and someone yelling my name. Otherwise nothing."

"I did the yelling," she gulps, "and that object? That was a hand grenade."

"A hand grenade?"

She nods. Her eyes never leave his face. "You, me and Thor had just entered the grand hall of the embassy when it happened. You'd strayed off to the side to admire some painting."

It sounds like him.

"- I was behind you and saw it happen. It landed before your feet and without thinking, I just... lurched. Grabbed you and hurled the two of us forwards. You hit a stone column head-first."

He pulls back his head in surprise when he realises. “…you saved my life?”

It makes his blood pressure drop.

"Don't say it like that," she whispers with her breath fanning over his knuckles. "I merely gave you a concussion. The grenade turned out to be a squib after all."

"You didn't know that," he moves a little closer to her. She saved him and she's still here, still lying in his bed. It's not out of debt, he realises. Not at all. She's there because she wants to. "Darling... I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," she mumbles and opens her palm as if to welcome him. "Just kiss me, okay? I've missed you."

Everything inside of him goes soft. He feels squishy and warm and comfortable, and he could look at her forever.

He extends his fingers, engulfs her small hand inside his and dismisses the tension of his neck until their lips finally meet.

It's the gentlest they've ever kissed; lips barely touching, but it's the most heartfelt, the most sincere.

"I'm sorry for how I acted," she mumbles quietly against his mouth. "I really, really like you. I wasn't sure how to deal with that."

"It's okay," he whispers back, "we've all done things we're not proud of."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," he smiles softly and reclaims her lips with the hope that he can show her exactly how crazy he is about everything that is her. His angry Avenger, his fiery goddess.

She saved him.

He feels the emotions pour out of both of them as their kiss deepens and he swears he can feel the allfathers blessing him as he jumps head-first into the burning sun; he can run with the wolves, fly with the ravens. And if Hugin and Munin are watching him from the great beyond, they'll tell all of Asgard that he, Loki Laufeyson, was worthy enough to be saved by a Valkyrie.

#loki x reader fanfiction #loki x reader enemies to lovers #loki smut #loki angst with happy ending #loki enemies to lovers

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f1bordeaux · 9 months

Note

Can you do one with Lando and the quotes, “We were supposed to get married” + “Wake up please I can’t do this without you” + “Everything I do I do in memory of her” thank u:)

What I Desire The Most | ln4

How do you cope? He isn't sure. None of us are really sure. Warnings: Angst, character death Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (y/n never mentioned) Word Count: 1189 Story Style | Poetry Style A/n:I wanted to write something small for this one, something with less dialogue and more story? It's sad, i suppose, so for that I'm sorry. But that's what you wanted, isn't it? ;)

There comes a time at the end of a party, after everyone has drunk their fill, when you know it’s time to leave.

Perhaps death is the same way.

Maybe the crowd has thinned, at least of those you knew. The front door is constantly opening and closing, conversation going with it. Everybody has an equal understanding that this is it, this is the end. There will be no more lingering, no more drinking, no more festivities. Time is up. Slowly, everyone will go, leaving behind an empty house with trash in the corners. Someone’s clothes are floating in the pool. The beer pong table is still set up in the dining room. You never got to finish that chat you started hours ago. But everybody is gone now. It’s time for you to go, too. Things will be left unsaid, stories will go untold. But you had fun. You laughed and cried and danced and sang. It’s time to start over.

Maybe the party is still in full swing when you decide to leave. Nobody has crossed the ‘too drunk’ line yet. Bodies sway to the music, heat is passed on from person to person, the fridge is full, there is somebody naked coming in from the back porch. And although you’re having fun, you realize that you need to go. You’ve had your share, you’ve shown your face, you’ve come for some laughs and now, it is time to depart. Your friends will be upset, wishing that you had stayed just a little longer. Your presence will become nothing more than a photograph strung on the wall. People will speak of you in conversations like so; “Remember her? Remember how amazing she was?” But you will not be there to listen. You’ll be out the door, walking down the street with a smile on your face. You’ll be content. The party was good, you’ll tell yourself. But it’s time to start over. Time to find better.

In this circumstance, the party is in full swing. You’re leaving too soon.

His hand is intertwined with yours, the temperature difference enough to send a chill through his spine. Somewhere in the crash, you lost your bracelet. He still wears his, though. It’s orange and white, the letter beads spelling out your name. You made it for him oh so long ago. At least, it feels like that. All of a sudden, it feels like he’s known you for his whole life. It feels like you two met decades ago, bodies so familiar that you knew they had been together in another life. Your body is cold now, however. It feels different to him. It feels empty.

“We were supposed to get married.” He whispered no louder than the beeping of the machine attached to your paling skin. The engagement ring on your finger has cracked in half. It’s somewhere in a plastic baggie with your phone, wallet, clothes, shoes. It’s somewhere you are not. Nobody really knows where you are to be honest. Maybe your soul is already gone. Maybe it’s not. Lando doesn’t know, either. He hopes you’re still here, listening to him beg. God he hopes you’re still here. “Wake up please. I can’t do this without you.”

Four years, he thinks. Four years was not nearly enough time with you. He needed at least a million more.

He knew that if you left him, leaving him alone on this cruel planet, that life would never be the same. He’d look for your body in each paddock he visited. Although nobody laughed like you, he would still turn around at the slight similarities other girls had in their laughs hoping, praying, that you’d be there. Never again would a race weekend feel complete. Never again would a podium feel right without your lips waiting for a congratulatory kiss. He’d have to move houses, too. There was no way he’d be able to walk in the front door of your Monegasque home and see all of your belongings next to his. Your shoes, your closet full of clothes, your blankets draped on the couch, your makeup on the bathroom counter. No, he would have to move.

He’d never swim in a pool again, too busy thinking about you and him swimming in your pool at late hours of the night. He’d never visit the beach, being reminded too often that the shoreline of Monaco was where you two met. He’d never eat pizza again-it was your favorite food. He’d never watch a Disney movie, that was what Tuesday night date nights were for. Life would become so dull, so colorless.

“I need you, baby. Please.” He spoke to nobody. He was alone in the hospital room. Sadly enough, he already knew it. “I love you.”

The weeks would pass, the days would drag on. There would never come a moment where he got over you. Sure enough, every girl who passed him in the paddock with your hair color caught his attention. He’d smile to himself, amused at how he predicted his own actions. His heart would pound, his hands would shake. It wasn’t you. It would never be you again.

He would be jealous of his fellow drivers who brought their girlfriends to the race. They opted to not speak about love, romance, date nights, their sex life or anything of the sorts in front of him anymore. A few of the boys took him to a music concert in Belgium. They followed it up with a trip to Ibiza. He refused to go to the beach, however. “Let’s just stay in the city.” He’d say. “I’m not a beach guy. I hate the beach.”

The nights were cold and lonely, the days were hot and blank. But, he raced. He pushed the limits of his car and of his body. He shocked everyone with his new aggressive, dominant and unforgiving driving style. “You’re going to kill yourself driving like that, Lando.” His race engineer would tell him.

“I know.” Is all he would respond with.

A tattoo, the first on his tanned skin, would pop up. Roman numerals-how typical, fans would say. But they would stop teasing when they realized the date, hidden on his ribcage, was your birthday.

A trophy-no, a slew of trophies would be dedicated to you; the most impressive one coming in Abu Dhabi two years after your passing. They’d begin to call him a World Champion. He’d continue to call you his reason. “Everything I do,” He’d say on the podium, tears staining his cheeks. He was a World Champion, he had a right to cry. “I do in memory of her.”

And in another life, when your body met his once more, when the heat returned to your skin, when the enjoyment of life returned to his, he would pull you close, saying with a smile; “I’ve been waiting for you.”

To which you would respond, “You’ve come so far, you’ve done so much.”

“You are better than all of that combined. You are what I desire the most. And at last, I finally can say I have it back.”

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mazzymoonlight · 1 year

Text

Are There Still Beautiful Things?

summary: inspired by taylor’s “seven”, follow JJ and reader through snapshots of their lives together.

warnings: mentions of the death of a parent, mentions of excessive drinking, mentions of abuse

word count: 9.9k

a/n: hellooo & welcome to my first fic :) some of this had been previously posted in parts, but after evaluation i realized this needed to be heavily edited & worked better in this format. this fic has a special place in my heart, so i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it. (p.s, happy obx 3 eve!)

SEVEN

please, picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven feet, in the swing over the creek, i was too scared to jump in but i, i was high in the sky with pennsylvania under me … are there still beautiful things?

JJ Maybank thinks the last time he was truly, truly happy was when he was seven. At such a young age, anything seemed possible. The sky was the limit and the ocean was their backyard. He had his mother and his father, and even though it leaked sometimes, a roof over his head.

And he had his friends, his favorite people in the world. John B, who he had been sat next to on the first day of second grade and was now inseparable from, and y/n, the girl whose mother was his mother’s best friend, who he had known his whole life.

It was always the three of them, getting into trouble together and spending nearly every moment with each other. You rarely saw one of them without at least one other, and even at such a young age, it was clear they had a bond some people spent a lifetime searching for. They were lucky, and people liked to tell them that.

In their younger days, one of the moms (or more often, both of them together) would often take the trio around. Watching at the beach while they learned to surf, the parks while they played until red in the face, treating them to dinners at the local establishments, or ice cream on those extra hot and intolerable days.

But their favorite was camping in the backyard. They would set up a tent and a bonfire, and roast s’mores and stare at the stars.

JJ’s mom had a particular affinity for the mystery that hung above them and would spend hours teaching the kids everything she knew. She loved the moon, she would tell them everything she knew. She liked to talk about the phases and what they meant, what kind of full moons they were in store for soon.

But Saturn was her favorite, she would talk about any chance she could.

Did you know it’s actually a big ball of gas? That it would float in water?

The ring is made up of ice and dirt and bits.

It’s windy up there.

It takes twenty-nine earth years to revolve around the sun.

Time must move slowly up there.

And they let her talk too. And they listened to every word. They listened to the tales and myths and theories of space until they couldn’t fight the sleep back, and their eyes of wonder became sleepy, slowly blinking at the woman in front of them.

“Goodnight,” She’d say to the three of them, and then she would lean in close to JJ, and leave a kiss on his little forehead.

“I love you to the moon and to Saturn.” he would fall into sleep with a smile on his face.

Nights like that were always beautiful. Memories like that were beautiful.

JJ couldn’t help but wonder; without them, was there any beauty at all left in the world?

FOURTEEN

sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart won’t tell no other, and though i can’t recall your face, i still got love for you your braids like a pattern love you to the moon and to saturn, passed down like folk songs … the love last so long.

The summer they were fourteen, JJ’s life changed. His mother passed, and he was never the same after it. It seemed like the entirety of the outer banks was aware of the light that had been lost.

y/n and her parents were right alongside Luke and JJ. None of them knew what was in store without her. Filled with anger, sadness, regret, and guilt, they all knew that she had so much more to give. Life was not kind, life was not fair, and although they all knew it, they never thought that they would get a reminder quite like this.

JJ stood in between his two best friends, y/n’s hand in his, she was struggling too, but she was holding back. She knew she had to be strong for JJ, she had lost someone special, but he lost his mother, and that was something that he would never get back, something that could never be replaced.

That night y/n stays with JJ, and they end up outside the same way they used to, but without a bonfire tonight. Tonight they stare in silence at the night sky, both thinking about all the things JJ’s mom had told them about the stars and planets above.

“I keep thinking she’s on Saturn,” y/n says, suddenly, the thought slipping out before she can think about stopping herself.

“What?”

“I keep thinking about Saturn, how much she loved it.” She clarifies, “And I keep thinking how happy she must be to finally see it.”

There’s more she wants to say, but figures it’s nothing that JJ hasn’t already heard. What can she say, really? When she catches his smile, the first she’s seen in weeks, she leaves it at that. She’s said all she needs to.

“Yea,” he said, wiping a stray tear. “I bet she is. I like that thought.”

And he meant it. The thought of his mom, an angel on her favorite planet, he didn’t think there was any other explanation.

FIFTEEN

JJ’s fifteenth birthday creeps up, and y/n had worked extra to get him a special present. She had seen it in one of the windows of the fancy boutiques on figure eight and immediately ran in to look at it, begging the store owner to hold it for her after seeing the price on the tag. It had to be JJ’s, she knew it the moment she saw it.

So two weeks later she returned with money collected from babysitting and delivering groceries, the proudest smile on her face. Bringing it home and exchanging the chain for a longer silver one before wrapping it up neatly.

Everyone gathers at the Maybank home on the day of. John B and his father, y/n and her parents, and Pope and Kiara, who the trio had recently befriended.

Luke had even put in a little effort, putting up some simple birthday decorations he had bought from the dollar tree. It wasn’t very much, but all JJ cared about was that everyone he loved was there with him. JJ was happy, but there was a lurking sadness in the back of his head. This was his first birthday without his mom. There was an empty space that would never be filled, no matter how hard he tried. And he was trying very hard.

Despite the weight of loss, it was one of the best days JJ’s had in a long time. Luke had set up a slip-n-slide for the kids, really just a tarp with some water and some dish soap but the kids didn’t care. He grilled hamburgers and hotdogs and even stocked up on more sodas than they needed. y/n had made a cake and John B helped her decorate it. It was sloppy, but it was theirs, for JJ.

y/n had waited until later to give JJ his present. She found him still sitting at the outside table with his hand on his chin, looking up into space like he always did.

“There you are.” She says, siding into the seat next to him. She follows his gaze up toward the night sky.

“Looking for Saturn?” she asks.

“Always am.” He answers sadly despite the small smile on his lips.

She doesn’t say anything, only matches his sad smile with one of her own, and holds out the box shyly.

“Happy birthday Jay.”

He takes it gently, looking at her with a look neither of them can register yet. He leans into her a bit, nudging her softly before tearing at the paper.

When he opens the box his smile drops, and suddenly it feels like he can’t breathe, he feels caught off guard as his emotions blindside him. He had no clue what to expect but this certainly wasn’t it.

y/n sees his reaction and it feels like a gut punch. Why had she gotten him that?

She felt so certain it belonged with JJ but seeing him look so upset now she just felt stupid.

“JJ, I’m sorry, I can bring it back, I just thought … if you don’t like it I’ll take it back.” She tries to explain herself and reaches for the box, but he jerks away from her when she tries to take it back.

She freezes, confused now. He doesn’t catch her reaction, still looking at the necklace in his hands.

“I think I’m forgetting her.” He finally says, voice barely above a whisper, like he was scared to say it. Like this was the first time he was admitting it to himself.

“I’m scared y/n, it’s only been a year, and every day I’m scared I’ve lost another piece of her, what if I’m forgetting her?” And then he’s crying before he can stop himself, sobbing almost.

He clutches the box to his chest like he’s scared to let it go, like letting it go would be the end of the world for the second time.

y/n pulls him in, a few tears of her own falling, thinking of all the things she would do and the things she would trade to take away his pain.

“JJ… you’re not going to forget her, okay, I promise you. All you’re doing is healing, trying to learn to live a normal life without your mom, something that no child should ever have to do. You have so many memories of her, you have so many stories and pictures. You're a piece of her. When you’re older you’ll pass the stories on, and people who never got to know her will know her. And when you're older, older, you’ll tell your kids about their grandmother, the woman who was as strong as a hurricane and soft as a butterfly all in one. You won’t forget her JJ, you can’t when you’re part of her.”

She talks him down, and once he subsides he sees the truth in her words, he trusts her so he trusts what she’s saying wholeheartedly.

“You promise me, y/n?”

She holds him tighter

“Cross my heart JJ.”

“Okay,” He says, sitting up from her.

“Okay?” she questions, wiping the last few tears from his face “because you don’t have to be.”

“I know, but I will be.”

She smiles at that, she knew he would be, even if he didn’t fully believe it, he was the strongest person she knew.

She nods towards the necklace “so you like it then?”

He nods. “I think this is the best present I’ll ever get.” And finally pulls the chain out of the box, staring at the clip confused as he tries to figure it out himself.

y/n laughs, making a motion for him to come closer.

“Here, I’ll do it for you.”

She undoes the clasp and wraps it around his neck, closing it again before adjusting, the charm settling just above his heart.

Her fingers linger on the charm, smiling at the memory, the meaning of it.

“Now you have your own Saturn, always with you.”

His hand closes on hers.

You are my Saturn y/n, he thinks.

But instead, he wraps her in a hug, “wanna camp out tonight? I’ll get John B to come back, the three of us like old times.”

She nods in his arms.

“Always.”

That night the three of them all felt like things had gone back to normal, even just for the night both John B and y/n were glad that JJ could feel some type of relief, even if it was fleeting. They knew in the morning things would go back to the way they were, and JJ would struggle a little bit more than the average person, but if they could just give him a couple of hours, it was worth it.

And finally, when they’ve retired to bed and settled in their sleeping bags, JJ and y/n had the same thought running through their minds as they fell asleep.

I love you to the moon and to Saturn.

And JJ swears he felt something press against his forehead that night, exactly like old times.

SIXTEEN

and i’ve been meaning to tell you, i think your house is haunted, your dad is always mad and that must be why, and i think you should come live with me and we can be pirates … then you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet and just like a folk song, our love will be passed on

The summer they were sixteen was one they had been dreaming about what felt like their whole lives. Finally old enough to roam freely, exploring all the nooks and crannies unsupervised. The trio had now officially graduated to a group of five, and now they took on the world with Pope and Kiara by their sides.

It should have been a dream. Granted, most of the time it was, but there were nightmares constantly lurking in the corner. JJ didn’t want to admit it, but he was pretty sure he had finally lost his father.

Luke Maybank was never the same after his wife died, but for a while, he at least attempted for JJ. He tried, he really did, to be there, and be something for JJ. But he was losing himself, and in the past year, he was slipping further and further away, turning into someone that even y/n’s parents, who had known him for so long, didn’t recognize.

The drinking was getting out of control, and the hitting started not too long after. When he was sober, he was sorry, but eventually, it became a rare occasion to find Luke Maybank sober

So JJ’s normal became sneaking around his own house, avoiding the last of his family, seeing how many family dinners at y/n’s he could get invited to each week, and saving everything he could from his oddball jobs to get out as soon as possible.

He didn’t like to talk about it, in fact, he never did. He let the pogues think whatever they wanted to and never gave them a real answer when they asked. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t need to be concerned about him, he’d be leaving soon anyways.

But y/n knew. She watched like she always did, she was observant. She watched his eyes get that faraway look whenever he rattled off his latest excuse and the way his smile would fall when he thought no one was looking. She watched him and knew he was hurting more than he would let on.

She had gone to his house to find him but only found Luke instead, and what she saw scared her. She did not recognize the stumbling drunk man looking back at her. And he didn’t recognize her either. The girl he had watched grow up next to JJ, the girl he had roasted countless marshmallows for when she was scared of getting too close to the fire. The girl he made pancakes for in the mornings and the girl he lit fireworks for on the fourth of July. None of the memories registered, he had run her off his property like a stranger had just trespassed.

It was when y/n knew that for the second time, JJ’s life had changed. The knowledge tormented her for weeks. She hated the small piece of her that still felt sympathy for Luke, he was a broken man with plenty of reason to be. She was holding out hope, that something good would happen to JJ.

But when JJ showed up with a black eye one afternoon, blaming it on a group of kooks, she knew she had to say something. She spilled half-truths to her parents, although she suspected they picked up on the unspoken story from the tears in her eyes.

“I’m just - I’m worried about him. I just have this feeling that things have been, I don’t know … harder than normal lately.”

Her parents had sensed the shift too, all her confession had done was confirm the suspicion. Her mother told her then that JJ was always welcome in the home, and her father told her he would try to talk to Luke the next day.

And that worked for a little bit, JJ had visibly perked up and for a minute things seemed like they were back to normal, and y/n was waiting for the right to tell him what she knew but it seemed Luke had beat her to it.

She had been waiting for him at the beach, but her smile immediately turned to worry when she saw him storming up toward her.

“What the fuck y/n?” was the first thing out of his mouth, and now instead of worried she was panicked realizing his anger was directed towards her.

“JJ, what-” But before she can get anything else out he’s talking again.

“What did you do? What did your dad do? What’s with all these cryptic messages of watching us and threatening to take me away? I mean what the fuck, what does that even mean? Take me away? Away from what, my home? My father, my only family I have left? How could you do this to me?”

Her face pales immediately, her head shaking.

“JJ, that is not what happened, that’s not what he meant -”

“So then it’s true, he did come by?”

“Yes but he didn’t threaten your dad JJ, he -”

“You know what y/n, I don’t care. I just came to tell you to stay out of it. I don’t know what you think you know, but my dad and I are fine. We don’t all have a picture-perfect family to go home to at the end of the day.”

His words stung, leaving her nearly speechless. “That’s- that’s not fair JJ. You are family.” She chokes out, but he was already walking away.

“What if it was me?” She calls out, frustrated.

He stops, and she keeps going. “If I were you, and my dad was putting his hands on me. If I started showing up with marks and bruises, wouldn’t you do anything to protect me?”

“I don’t need you to protect me y/n.” And that’s the last thing he says to her before walking away.

JJ’s not around for the next couple of weeks, and it drives y/n up the wall not knowing where he was, or what he was up to.

She spends time with the pogues, but she’s never fully there at any time, part of her mind was constantly on JJ. She finally broke one day and told the pogues to please go find JJ and make him go out on the boat with them. They tried to argue with her but she told them that she was pretty sure that if he didn’t blow off some steam soon, he was going to start getting into trouble, and it wouldn’t be good for him.

She gave them space for a few days, and just assumed that they had picked up JJ and got him out of the house for a bit, so she nearly lost it when the pogues finally confessed that they hadn’t seen or heard from JJ since they had been tasked to go find him.

“Are you sure he’s not at the house?” she asked “Sometimes he just won’t come out, or if you ran into Luke then -”

“He wasn’t there, and we didn’t see Luke either. We checked inside.” Pope answers.

She could feel herself panicking.

“Why did you say something sooner?” She stressed, looking mostly at John B.

He looks down, away from her gaze. “You know how he is y/n… and you were already worried enough. We thought he’d turn up soon, he always does.”

She shakes her head, “maybe, but haven’t you noticed that when he does there’s always a new bruise?”

The three of them exchange looks while she closes her eyes, taking a breath and trying to think for a moment.

“Okay, why don’t you guys go check some of our beach spots maybe? There are a few places I can look and just keep me updated if you find him and I’ll let you guys know too.”

They part ways and y/n knows she’s going back to check the house first. Even if he had left, he was never gone from the house long, there was too much to leave behind.

She parks a little way down from the house, she hadn’t been back since the day Luke had yelled at her and if she was being honest she was still a bit scared. She crept up to the house carefully, freezing she hears shouting, the noise becoming clear once the door swings open.

“Boy, I tell ya, that’s just about the funniest thing I think I’ve heard you say.” y/n hears him laughing maniacally.

“You’re not going anywhere, you won’t leave her, you know you won’t. You’re stuck here, just like me.”

Luke stumbles off towards a trail and y/n waits until he’s out of sight before dashing into the house, finding it still and quiet. She wonders for a moment if Luke had been talking to himself the whole time, not finding it entirely impossible considering how drunk he seemed.

And then y/n is suddenly realizing that the last time she had been in this house was JJ’s fifthteenth birthday, and she was suddenly very aware of how empty it felt. It had lost the warmness and comfort it once held, feeling more like a ghost town than a home now. She felt out of place, which was something she never, ever thought she would feel in the Maybank home.

She notices a slightly open closet door at the end of the hallway, and she swore she could hear sniffling, muffled cries like someone tucked away and hiding in there.

“JJ?” she called out, and when it suddenly went silent again, she knew, rushing over to the door and opening it delicately.

And there JJ was, curled up in himself, knees up to his chest and a photograph in his hand. She knew exactly what photo he was looking at, and she immediately dropped next to him. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t want to scare him, but looking at him broke her heart.

So instead she starts talking.

“I remember that day.” She says. “That was one of the fourth of July parties, we were all there, even John B and his dad. And this was the year the full moon lined up with the holiday, and your mom was so excited, she talked about it all day and got us excited too. Our dads bought way too many fireworks like they always did. And we ended the night with s’mores, of course, because it wouldn’t be one of our nights without them. You always were so messy. There she is again, cleaning you up.”

JJ falls into her then, and y/n catches him like she always does, and always will. She has tears too, staring at the picture of an innocent JJ, a smile plastered on his face, stacked s’more in hand, staring up at his mom who he loved so much, with no idea he was going to lose her in the next few years. And there was his mom too, beautiful as always, her own s'more in one hand and the other attempting to wipe the sticky marshmallow from his mouth, laughing because she knows it’s useless. But she was his mother, so she would try regardless.

She wraps him up in her arms, her grasp firm so he knows she’s there but not tight enough to hurt him.

“I know why you won’t leave. I know why you won’t leave him, why you always come back. You’re holding on to that last piece of normal. It’s okay, it’s okay to hold on, but not when it’s hurting you like this. This house is full of memories, but it’s haunted and full of pain too. I would never ask you to leave what you know, but please just come with me for tonight, maybe a few days at most.”

JJ has always trusted y/n, so even now, when he was upset and jumbled with emotions he trusts her.

She lifts them both up gently. “Let’s get some spare clothes, okay? I can pack them for you if you want.”

They both walk into his room but he makes no effort to pack. Instead, he picks up another photograph that was sitting on his dresser before sitting at the end of the bed. Without saying anything else she grabs one of his duffle bags, and starts putting in a few extra shirts and shorts, and even grabs a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt just in case. When she’s finished he’s still staring at the photo like he’s in some kind of trance.

She throws the bag over her shoulder and reaches her hand out to JJ. That seems to break him out of his state a little, standing up and pocketing the photographs. He takes her hand and they walk out of the house together, out to her car.

She pulls into her driveway, and they walk into the house together and up to her room.

“Why don’t you shower and change?” She can tell he’s still dazed, and she’s hoping a shower will relax him.

While he showers she makes her way back downstairs, her parents are out of town for the next few days, so she figures she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there. She does, however, text the pogues, realizing just how long it had been since they all began looking for JJ. She keeps it simple and just lets them know that he’s okay and with her for now.

And then, she makes two sandwiches, one for herself and one for JJ, because she knew he wouldn’t eat if he thinks she had made something especially for him. When she walks back up the stairs into her room, JJ is already out of the shower and changed. He looks up when she walks in and she lifts up the plates of sandwiches slightly.

“Eat with me?” she asks.

They sit and eat the sandwiches in silence, and when they’re both finished she runs the plates back down before returning with two classes of water.

“Okay,” she says after a few sips. “Just try to get some rest, okay? I’m going to shower, but I’ll be quick.”

Long after the shower turns on, JJ is still hesitating and realizing how stupid their fight was. All that he knows is that he missed y/n, and now he was here with her, everything felt like maybe it would all be okay.

He had just made it under the covers when the water shut off, and a few minutes later y/n came out, not hesitating to lay down in the bed beside JJ. It didn’t matter that they had been fighting, or not speaking, or had not seen each other in the past few weeks. They would always be there when it was needed.

“I’m sorry y/n,” he says suddenly. She had thought he had fallen asleep.

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her.

“It’s okay.”

He rolls over, and now they’re both on their back, staring blankly at the ceiling as if staring long enough would make it disappear and show them the night sky just on the other side of it.

“But it’s not.” He starts, “You were just trying to protect me. And this whole thing has been so stupid - I’ve been so stupid. I didn’t like that, us fighting, us not talking. It just feels like … a storm sometimes. In my head, and it scares me when I’m not in control.”

His hand finds hers in the dark, “I know you were just trying to protect me. I was just mad at myself because I feel like it’s my job to protect you, and I wasn’t doing that.”

She squeezes his hand. “Maybe it’s not okay…” she starts, “but just know I understand, and that I’m always going to be here.”

She looks at him then, reaching up and finding his chin, turning it gently.

“And we protect each other, okay?” There’s a desperation in her voice that he picks up on. One that he understands, deeply.

He gives her wrist a soft squeeze, “okay.”

Then he’s curling into her, and she lets him. It’s silent for another moment before y/n breaks it this time.

“JJ?” she says quietly.

He’s barely awake but he still answers her with a tired “Mhm?”

She hesitates, “to the moon and to Saturn.” She backs out, but the unspoken meaning is still there.

He smiles.

“You are my Saturn.

EIGHTEEN

please, picture me in the weeds, before i learned civility, i used to scream ferociously … any time i wanted

y/n blinks and suddenly it’s graduation. She’s never been happier, a swirl of excitement and pride all in one stirring in her stomach. For herself and everyone but mostly for JJ. Things had been okay enough, but no one could deny the hand JJ had been dealt. He faced it every day, the sideway looks and the backhanded comments and the flat-out insults. But he had done it, proved them all wrong.

Luke had even made it to the ceremony, sitting tucked away in the back as he watched his son walk the stage, and afterward y/n eyes them as they had a conversation before finally parting ways.

JJ runs over to the rest of the group, scooping up y/n and spinning her around, cheering and causing a scene.

“We did it, we’re done!” He’s yelling, “we’re free!”

They continue to chat for a while and joke around, taking photos until the parents are all satisfied before parting ways with plans to meet back up at the beach later in the night.

JJ goes home with y/n and her parents, where there’s a small celebration set up for the pair. They eat cake and flip through old scrapbooks and photo albums. He’s happy, but there’s a sting in his chest, wishing his mom was there.

He imagines briefly, what it would have been like had his dad never changed, if he would have been there in the living room with them, or if he would have had his own afternoon planned. He decides not to dwell on it, instead, he wraps his arms around her from behind on the couch. He focuses on her, and her parents, the photo album of past memories. He understands he’s still lucky.

It gets later, and before JJ and y/n leave for the beach her parents call them into the kitchen again, they have something for JJ. He blushes at the statement, although he tries to hide it. He’s handed a small box and is shocked when he sees a silver key sitting inside.

“We hope we aren’t overstepping,” your mom starts, “really, it’s a bit overdue but we just thought - we just want you to know you’re welcome here anytime.”

Her father places a firm hand on his shoulder when he sees JJ getting choked up, “just if you ever need anything. Hell, if you ever just want to come bother us. You know you’re family.”

He laughs a bit, trying to lighten the mood, shaking his head, “Aw man, now you guys got me all emotional.”

Then he looks up at her father, “thank you, really.” And then he turns to her mother too, and she pulls him into a hug that he gladly accepts. “This means a lot to me, really… I don’t … I don’t know what I would’ve done without you guys. Where I’d be… just, thank you.” He tells her.

“You don’t need to thank us, honey. We’ll always be here to take care of you.”

The moment passes, he pulls away, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide his emotional state and he turns to y/n. “Alright, soaps over.” He announces, “you ready to go?”

They make their way to the beach, talking about summer along the way. JJ keeps listing all the things he wants everyone to do together before it’s time to part for school.

They find a spot on the beach, sitting and talking about how strange it is to be done with high school, and the future. Everyone is leaving, even John B. But JJ and y/n decided to stay close to home, not ready to leave yet.

“After college,” he says, “that’s when it’ll be time to go.”

“You would leave Outer Banks?” She asks, slightly shocked.

“Yea.” He says, confused as to why she was so shocked at his statement

“I’ve always said that, why the face?” He questions.

She looks down, realizing that he was right, he had always said that. She never thought about it in detail, never pressed him on it. Maybe she thought all this time that he never really meant it. Everyone always says they want to leave their hometown but how often did they really?

“nothing it’s just, something I heard Luke say once.”

She catches the way his face drops and she tries to backtrack

“No, no, it was nothing bad I promise. I heard him say ‘you know you won’t leave her’ and I don’t know, it’s just the only thing I’d ever agree on with Luke. That you wouldn’t leave your mom behind, and I understand that. You could build something better, be something better.”

He has a pained look on his face, his hand reaching up to the Saturn around his neck.

“Did you mean what you said, about me being a part of my mom?”

She rests a hand on his shoulder, “of course I did JJ. Everyone knows. You’re the best parts of her.”

“Then it won’t matter where I go. She’ll always be with me.”

Then the look on his face turns into a smirk.

“Besides,” he starts, “it wasn’t my mom he was talking about.”

y/n pulls her arm back from JJ’s, retreating into her own space.

“Oh.” She says simply, starting to wonder who would keep him tied here.

The only other girl he really had in his life was Kiara, and they had been awfully close this past year. She had even gifted him a locket for his seventeenth birthday and it now sat right next to his Saturn charm. It took everything in her not to ask what it was, her curiosity was killing her but she respected his privacy more. But truthfully, y/n couldn’t blame JJ even if she wanted to. Kiara was special, she wouldn’t want to leave her either. She didn’t want to leave any of them.

And then y/n started to realize that she always thought it would be her and JJ. Whenever she imagined the future, JJ was there too. She was realizing that maybe it was selfish of her to just assume he’d always be there. She knew he had dreams of his own, and who was to say that she was involved in any of them?

“Hey now,” he starts when he notices the change in her demeanor, grabbing at her face and pushing at the corner of her lips, playfully trying to force a smile.

“Why’s my y/n so sad?” He says with a pout, putting on a dramatic voice like he’s talking to a hurt child.

She pushed his hands away, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably, not being able to control the smile that follows her laugh.

“Well I’m sorry, my best friend just dropped a bomb that he has some mystery woman he’d follow to the ends of the earth. I guess I’m just a piece of moldy bread to you now, huh? I’ve been replaced.”

She overplays her sadness, saying it dramatically, but truthfully deep down a part of her is hurting at the thought.

His hands have moved to the side of her face.

“Come on now y/n, you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

She places her own hands on his, turning her head to the side slightly in question.

“Oh my god y/n,” he laughs, “are you going to make me say it?”

She remains silent, her face reflecting her deeper confusion, wondering what he was on about. She honestly felt like she had missed something, feeling like he had moved on to a whole new topic all together.

“It’s you, you big dummy!” He exclaims, shaking her a bit to emphasize his point.

Suddenly y/n is shocked and embarrassed, moving her head down, trying to hide from JJ’s gaze.

He laughs again and pulls her in, “I would never leave you y/n. You’re stuck with me.”

She doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t need to, instead, she lets him tuck her into his chest. Her eyes land on that locket of his, and she can’t stop her fingers from playing with the charm.

Then suddenly his hand is running up her arm and grabbing hers.

“Why don’t you just ask already?” He says and she immediately freezes. “I know you want to know.”

She still doesn’t say anything but she shrugs her shoulders a bit. Yes, y/n was dying to know what was in the locket but part of her also felt it was an unspoken line that she shouldn’t cross. It was Kiara that had given it to him, so it was probably something that meant a lot to the two of them, and she didn’t want to pry at their relationship.

Of course, he would tell her if she asked but she never let herself.

“Just open it y/n.”

She looks up at him, still hesitant. But the look on his face reassures her, so she pinches open the locket and immediately smiles when she sees the photo inside. That photo from that fourth of July all those years ago, sitting with his mom on the banket, marshmallow all over his face. She can’t help the bittersweet tears that prick at her eyes, thinking about all that JJ had accomplished, and wishing more than anything that his mother had been there to see it.

Then silently JJ reaches up and opens the locket the rest of the way, and when y/n sees the photo on the other side it feels like all the air has been sucked out of her. It’s a photo of him and her from when they were little, looking like it’s from the same night. There they were, standing next to each other with wide eyes and beaming smiles, sparklers in hand. Trails of light surrounded the sparklers, the children unable to keep them still.

And that was when y/n knew. She knew that it would always be the two of them, somehow and someway. She knew that she would go wherever he wanted or needed to go at the drop of a hat and that he too would follow her without hesitation. And most of all she knew she was lucky. She knew how lucky she was to have someone like JJ in her life.

She closes the locket with tears in her eyes, and rests her palm on his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly. When she finally looks up she sees him tearing up too. She reaches up and wraps her arms around him, holding onto him tightly and he does the same.

“I love you JJ.”

He squeezes her tighter for a moment.

“I love you too y/n.”

And maybe the words meant more to both of them. It seemed like over the years that the lines between loving platonically and loving romantically had blurred. Best friends, soulmates, twin flames, they were always something to each other. But the one thing that they did know was that they had time. They had so much time to figure it out and neither were in a rush to figure it out. What they were now was good, who were they to question it?

TWENTY-TWO

sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart won’t tell no other, and though i can’t recall your face i still got love for you, pack your dolls and a sweater, we’ll move to india forever … passed down like folk songs our love last so long

It’s Friday night and the Fourth of July. y/n has been cleaning the apartment all day, needing everything to be perfect. Everyone lived busy lives now, but they were coming tonight to celebrate. She even decorated. A few balloons tied to chairs and red, white, and blue streamers hanging from the doorway.

She hears the front door opening but doesn’t look up from the counter she was wiping down.

“Are you still cleaning? It’s just the pogues y/n, relax.”

“I know,” She says, folding the last blanket and placing it on the edge of the couch “I just want it to be nice. It’s all going to be so different soon.”

There’s a beat of silence and a bittersweet tension hanging in the air.

“Why are you home so late?” She asks, changing the subject quickly.

He lifts the grocery bag in his hand, “beer” he says simply.

She rolls her eyes. “JJ, we have plenty of beer.”

She starts walking towards the kitchen and JJ trails behind her, pulling the pack of beer out of the bag.

“Oh y/n, you can never have too much beer.” He places the pack in the fridge and then starts taking out a few more items.

“Plus, we can’t do the fourth without our favorite.”

She smiles at the contents on the counter, “how could I forget the s’mores?”

JJ turns back to her and puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Because you’re in overdrive, and stressing yourself out. Go take a nap before they get here. You’ve been up all day and I know you had a late night, you’re tired.”

“No, I was going to make some snacks and -” She protests.

“You don’t need to make anything, Kie said she’s bringing dinner from The Wreck.”

“Well, what about the fireworks?”

“John B has it covered”

“What about -”

JJ cuts her off again, “everything is done y/n, we’re ready for tonight. Go rest.”

She pulls him in, wrapping her arms around him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She looks up at him, admiring him for a moment. It was something she caught herself doing often, and if he noticed he never commented on it.

College had been kind to JJ. Once he got a handle on it he thrived in the freedom of it. They were coming up on a year since graduation, and JJ had since shed his childlike habits. He was still himself, the light of the party and loud and still sometimes impulsive but underneath it all, he was a man now. It was evident in the way he carried himself now, broader and more confident. He took his life seriously and was happy to do so.

She smiles up at him, “I’ll take a nap if you come with me.” And when she looks at him with those eyes of hers, JJ simply cannot resist.

“Okay, come on.”

They walk over to the couch, JJ picks up the blanket and unravels it before laying down.

“JJ! I just folded that.” She says, slightly irritated but laying down nearly on top of him anyways.

He only rolls his eyes at the comment, dropping the blanket over them and wrapping his arms around her, y/n melting into him as soon as he does.

Minutes of silence pass, and JJ thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks up.

“Are we sure about this?”

“y/n, we’ve spent months talking about this. I promise you we’re doing the right thing, okay?”

She sighs, knowing deep down that he was right, so she lets herself relax and catch up on the much-needed sleep.

-------

Hours later and the night has finally begun. They’re all sitting in the living room, chatting. JJ and y/n exchange a look, and they know it’s time.

“Alright guys, we have something to tell you all.” Her smile is spreading, but she still turns to JJ for reassurance. He takes her hand in his and the pair turn back to the group.

“We’re moving.” They both spit out at the same time.

The other four drop their mouths in shock, it wasn’t the news they thought they were getting, but it was still enough of a bomb to catch them completely off guard.

But the speechless shock only lasts a brief moment before they start bombarding the pair with questions.

“Okay, okay!” y/n shouts, trying to calm all the voices talking over each other.

“San Francisco, California. That’s where we’re going. I got a job offer and JJ found a few places hiring where he can teach surfing lessons.”

Kiara and Sarah are nearly jumping from excitement, pulling her into a hug.

“y/n, that’s amazing!”

“Congrats, baby!”

“When do you have to be there?”

y/n’s smile drops and she pulls away.

“Well, that's the thing…” She starts, glancing towards JJ again, and that’s when he steps in.

“Our lease for here is up at the end of this month anyway …”

“You’re moving across the country in less than a month?”

“We didn’t think it was going to move this fast but things just seemed to line up that way…”

...

After the excitement and explanation, they’ve migrated into two separate groups, the boys still lingering in the living room.

“So that’s not the announcement we thought we were getting tonight,” Pope says, nudging JJ.

JJ looks at him confused, “what do you mean?” He asks.

“He means,” John starts, sitting up, “when are you gonna ask y/n to marry you?”

JJ nearly chokes on his drink at that, even spitting a bit of it out.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asks, “we’re not even dating.”

The other two glance at each other for a moment before back at him.

“What?”

“What?” The other two echo back, just as confused.

“And I thought two of my best friends moving across the country was going to be the biggest news of the night,” John says, taking a swig from his beer.

“What have you two been doing the past five years then?” Pope asks.

“We’re just … She’s my best friend, you guys know that.”

“But aren’t you guys more than that?” John asks. “You know, you could have told us you’ve been dating since high school and we’d believe it. You really aren’t together?”

JJ shakes his head, trying to explain what he doesn’t fully understand himself.

“No, not like that. We’re just… we’re JJ and y/n. Like we’ve always been.”

The other two share a small laugh.

“What?” The blonde asks.

“It was never JJ and y/n,” Pope answers. “It was always jjandy/n.”

“Have you guys really never?” He pries. “... At all? Anything? This whole time? Have you talked about it ever?” Pope continues as JJ shakes his head.

“No… we haven’t, we’ve never had to. I just know I’m always going to have her, and she’s always going to have me. We’ve never questioned or talked about how or in what way.”

“But what are you going to do if she meets someone? If you meet someone? Will you move out? Do you two even know how to function without the other?” Pope spits the questions out at a rapid-fire, genuinely curious.

“Of course, we can function without each other, we aren’t codependent.” JJ sighs, taking a breath, “I don’t know what’s going to happen if we meet people, we’ve never had that problem. She’s never mentioned guys past a hook up so I don’t know.”

“And what about you? What if you meet a girl?”

“I don’t know! Good god, what’s with the third degree?”

“You’ve seriously never thought about the future?” John presses.

“Not in, that sense I guess.”

“Okay, here, close your eyes. Don’t give me that look, come on just close them.”

JJ rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked.

“Okay, now, imagine yourself five, maybe even ten years from now. What do you see?”

“I don’t know… I just - I just see y/n.”

…

In the kitchen, Kiara and Sarah are giving y/n a similarly hard time, although it seems to be phasing her a little less.

“You know we totally thought the two of you were going to tell us that you were finally engaged, right?”

y/n rolls her eyes at Sarah, jumping up onto the counter to sit, “I’ve told you guys, we aren’t even dating. I don’t know where you keep getting that.”

“Still?” Sarah nearly shouts, “You guys still aren’t dating?”

“Ha!” Kiara cuts in before y/n can reply, “You owe me ten bucks.”

“Oh, so you guys are betting on us now?”

“Sarah’s betting.” Kiara says, “I’m making a profit.”

The other two are still standing, leaning against the counter inches away from y/n.

“What have the two of you been doing this whole time?” Sarah starts asking. “I thought for sure after we graduated college the two of you would finally get together.”

“They’re their own thing, Sarah, I keep trying to tell you.”

“But you guys are basically together, aren’t you? Is it just a ‘we don’t want to put a label on it’ thing?” Sarah presses.

“No, we aren’t together romantically at all. As I’ve said, I don’t know why it’s so shocking to everyone whenever I remind you.”

“But do you want to be?” Kiara asks, shifting the tone of the conversation a bit.

“I don’t know.” She says quietly, thinking it over.

“I mean, Sarah is right you guys have been together for, well your whole lives really. You guys are moving across the country together. The two of you are pretty much starting your lives together. What if he brings someone home? What if you meet someone?”

y/n just shrugs, starting to feel the tingling of emotions.

“To be honest with you, I don’t like to think about it. I mean I’ve dated here and there, and I know JJ has too but it never became anything serious for either of us.”

That day on the beach all those years ago had been enough to hold her over. The thought of always being together in some way, but now that they were getting older and a new part of life was starting, would that hold true?

“I just know I want him in my life.” She continues, “I mean, I think part of me always did think that maybe we’d end up together but… I don’t know I just, I guess I just want to make sure we’re together because we want to be, not because we’re all we’ve ever known. Sometimes I get scared that we’re holding each other back, that there’s something or someone we’re missing out on.”

She looks back up at the two girls, shaking her head at her emotions that seem to be building up.

“But most of all I just want him to be happy you know? I need to be prepared if it’s not with me. I guess I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Sarah places a hand on y/n’s shoulder comfortingly.

“No, we get it. I think a lot of this is just anxiety from the move, from this big life change coming up. I can tell you, the one thing that’s never going to change is you and JJ. You guys are absolutely not holding each other back. Trust me, one of us would have said something if we were worried.”

“You can’t see it from the outside.” Kiara jumps in. “It’s not always bad to have someone like you have JJ. Never once have either of you held each other back. You’ve always brought out the best in him and he’s always brought out the best in you.”

“You really think so?” She asks, looking between the both of them.

They both nod, pulling the girl into a group hug best they can, just as the boys are walking back in from the living room.

“Hey!” JJ immediately shouts, walking over to the three girls. “Which one of you made my y/n cry?”

Sarah wordlessly moves from her side and next to Kiara, making space next to y/n for JJ to slide into, sending a look to Kiara at the words my y/n while doing so.

“Kiara was telling me a story about work.” y/n says quickly. “You know how I get about the turtles.”

“Oh yes,” He says, lifting a hand and wiping away the few tears, “that would explain it.”

“What about you boys?” She asks, nodding at Pope and John as well, “What were you all gossiping about, huh?”

“John was telling me all about the fireworks he brought. You ready to go light ‘em up?”

She jumps down from the counter excitedly.

“Yes, let’s go!” She says, grabbing the large plate that contained chocolate and graham crackers in one hand and a large bag of marshmallows and skewers in the other.

The rest of them follow the pair out, watching as JJ takes the plate from y/n so she doesn’t have her hands full.

“Okay,” Sarah says, “I’d put money on a year from now.”

“Oh my god, Sarah,” Kiara says, giving her a playful shove.

The rest of the night is good, y/n makes sure to take a moment to let it sink in, all their smiles and all their laughs.

They set off fireworks, and sparklers, throw poppers at each other’s feet, watch the boys run from one another with roman candles in hand, and JJ and y/n eat their weight in s’mores. The night runs longer than intended, especially since the girls decided to bring the alcohol back out.

Finally, long after the night has settled and everyone has lingered for as long as they can, the group starts to say goodbye to each other. Dishes and trash are brought back inside, excess fireworks and belongings collected, and goodbyes dragged out until JJ and y/n are left in their apartment.

y/n lets out a long sigh, feeling the night and the drinks and the reality of them leaving catch up to her. It felt a lot more real now that they had told their closest friends.

JJ notices her lingering by the door and tugs her gently on the arm.

“Hey, you wanna sleep with me tonight?”

She nods silently, a grateful smile on her lips.

“Go change and meet me in there, okay?”

She moves a little bit slower than usual, weighed down by exhaustion, doing the bare minimum to get ready for bed, simply changing her clothes and brushing her teeth lazily before pulling her hair up and walking to JJ’s room.

He’s just climbing into bed and she follows without hesitation, curling into him. She thinks about how easy it is with JJ, or maybe natural is the better word. Everything just is with him.

He notices the way she’s holding his hand tightly and to her chest.

“Hey,” he starts softly, “you know if … if you’re second guessing this whole move, just say it and we’ll stay. Or… just tell me and I’ll stay.”

“No,” she says quickly, holding him even tighter now. “It’s not that…” She pauses, trying to gather her words and her courage.

“It’s just, you know that I love you, right? But do you know that I love you?”

JJ thinks he can’t breathe and worries for a second that his heart beating as fast as it is can’t be healthy. He wonders for a moment if he’s already fallen asleep and if this is all just a dream.

Because this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life.

“I’m starting my life with you. Moving all the way across the country… away from our home, our family, and our best friends. But the thing is, as hard as I know it’s going to be … I don’t care. Because I’ll be with you, JJ. I’ll have you. I don’t want anything else. Anyone else. I never have.”

It’s more of a confirmation than anything else.

There’s a moment of silence, and she holds her breath. Then another, while JJ tries to find his words. His mind races, processing her precious words. Pieces of their life together flash through his mind.

He’s crying before he can stop himself, overwhelmed.

“Just… come here.” He says desperately, pulling her in and locking her into his hold.

“You’re going to make me cry.” She says, muffled in his chest.

If it was anyone else, maybe the tears would be alarming. She would’ve read the situation differently, and taken it as a rejection.

But it was JJ. And tonight is more of a confirmation than a confession.

He pulls her even closer, tightens his grip in hopes of emphasizing his words, and just how much he means it.

“I never told you outright, but you had to have known, right?… that it was always going to be you? I’ve never been good with my words but I hope I’ve shown you. I hope you’ve felt it this whole time. How important you are to me. How much I love you.”

She escapes his grip, pulling away only so she can see his face.

“I have never felt anything but loved by you JJ.”

And then JJ blacks out he thinks. Or maybe it was just a mind-numbing rush of adrenaline. Or maybe it was natural instinct that had been lying dormant this whole time, just waiting for the right moment.

Because one second he was staring at her glossy eyes, and the next his lips had found hers.

Finally.

It’s soft and slightly desperate, dizzying and intoxicating.

A sensation that both of them had been the feeling they had simply been waiting for their whole lives.

They only break away to relieve the burning in their lungs.

“Say it,” she begs softly, a little out of breath and a little drunk on JJ.

His mind is in a haze, a smile still adorning his lips as he tries to get back to hers. “I love you.”

“No,” She says, pulling on him to get as close as possible, “the other one. Tell me again.”

He doesn’t even hesitate, knowing what she means in an instant.

“You’re my Saturn, y/n.”

She smiles into his chest, “again.”

His hand finds her cheek, guiding her face to look up at him.

“You are my Saturn.”

“Never stop saying it?”

He kisses her again, then pulls her back into his side, tucking her into the spot that she’s always belonged in.

“Never.”

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joshsindigostreak · 4 months

Text

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Nine

“Your pretty face and electric soul.”

Vampire!Josh x Vampire!Reader

Authors Note: Good morning, readers! Sorry for putting yall through the wringer in Chapter Eight. It will happen again, but not in this chapter! This one is a lot sweeter. If you haven’t read Chapter Eight yet I highly suggest you do so because this chapter won’t make a lot of sense without it. Also as always my inbox and DMs are always open so if you want to come scream at me after a chapter feel free to do so! Every single one of y'alls comments and thoughts means the world to me and I love hearing what you think. 😘😘😘

Word Count: 7310

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of blood, allusions to violence, SMUT, 18+, minors DNI, blood play, teasing, brat taming if you squint, fang play(?), I think that’s it. :)

Sixteen hours. That's how long Josh had been asleep. The first two hours, you didn’t even move. You just held him as he slept, gently cleaning up any blood with a towel and running your fingers through his hair. Eventually, you shifted from behind him and got him properly tucked in. But you kept your promise, your eyes never left him for a second. After redressing you laid down next to him on the bed over the duvet.

You were so focused on him that you didn’t even hear the door open, or notice Dimitri standing next to the bed.

“How is our dear Joshua?”

Without looking up, you say,, “he’s fine.”

“How long has it been?”

“Sixteen hours.”

Dimitri hummed in response, “how long did it take for you to wake up?”

“Two nights.”

“Typically it's around the same amount of time for a Maker and their new Vampire,” he paused and said, “have you slept at all, darling?”

Ignoring his question you replied, “some people don’t wake up at all…”

“Oh that's very rare, and you know that-”

“Rare, but not impossible.”

“I knew someone who took six nights to come back, and do you remember that Mary girl who lived with us during the twenties? She took over a week. It all just depends, darling.”

“How long did you take?”

He looked off in the distance for a moment, “roughly three nights. Woke up in the basement of a church of all places.”

“I was in a carriage,” you said softly, the memories floating back to you, “in the middle of the day, no less. He was inside, sleeping.” For a moment, you were back in that carriage, terrified and unsure of where you were. You had made the mistake of pulling one of the curtains to the side to look out the window, only to be immediately met with searing pain on your hand from the sun. It was hours before your Maker came back to check on you.

Dimitri shook his head, “Isaac wasn’t the most…thoughtful of Maker’s.”

You sat up on the bed, laughing a little, “that's putting it mildly.”

“Have you heard from him at all?”

“Not since ‘84, and even that was too much.”

Dimitri chuckled slightly before turning towards the door, “you should come downstairs, Portia and Magnus are finally back from their holiday. They’d love to see you.”

You shook your head and looked back at Josh, “no, I’m good…I’m staying up here.”

He smiled warmly, “I meant what I said last night, that you must mean a lot to him. Some people beg to be turned for other reasons, power, immortality, staying young forever, but he simply didn’t want to see you hurt. He didn’t even hesitate once he heard the terms. Love like that is rare.”

The l-word caught you off guard and you sputtered, “I don’t know…I mean…we’ve barely even…it's kind of soon for that.”

“We’re Vampires, darling, since when do we care about time?” You were silent, trying to will the blush away from your skin. Before he left the room, he said, “if you need anything, just call for Phillip. He’ll bring you anything you need.”

You resisted the urge to make a smartass comment about Phillip, “thank you, Dimitri.”

“Any time, darling,” he said before disappearing down the hall.

Josh remained still in the bed, having not moved very much at all in the last few hours. You reached over and brushed his curls back again, and you weren’t sure if you were soothing Josh or soothing yourself.

As the hours passed, you could not fight off sleep any longer, eventually letting it wash over you as you laid beside your lover. It wasn’t a restful sleep, in fact you found yourself waking up every other hour or so. Each time you’d sit up and check the time, noting how long it had been. You were still so full from the draining that you couldn’t even fathom feeding for at least a couple more days. Dimitri had checked in a few more times, sitting beside the bed to keep you company, but you turned down any invitation to come downstairs. You couldn’t risk it. You couldn’t miss him waking up, you were not going to chance Josh waking up frightened and alone. You wouldn’t let history repeat itself.

~!~

Miles away, a now solitary hunter paced around his brother’s apartment. He had not felt ‘right’ in hours. Specifically, sixteen hours and five minutes. His Witch had tried to calm him down several times, but this was something she couldn’t fix. Not with her words, not with her love, and not with her magic.

~!~

It was the second night now, and you were dozing next to him. Movement next to you had you snapping your eyes open, and you saw Josh had rolled over on his side, facing you. His eyes were still closed, but his brows were knitted tightly together, and a frown was fixed on his face.

You reached out, wanting to smooth your hand over his face, but his hand shot out from under the covers and snatched your wrist midair. The reflex was too fast, and his grip was too hard to be…human. Your entire body froze.

Suddenly his eyes snapped open, his brown eyes staring at you, but not seeing you. You were flipped onto your back as he hovered over you, hand still gripping your wrist next to your head. He was still looking at you as if he didn’t recognize you. That was common after a Vampire wakes up, as the adjustment period was far longer than the movies and books would lead you to believe.

“Boy Scout…,” you whispered slightly, hoping to jog his memory.

A low rumble came from his chest in response. That was another thing, it often took Vampires a little while to regain the ability to speak.

Breathing heavily over you, his eyes raked down your form and his other hand reached towards your face. Those soft fingertips of his grazed your cheek, tracing your bone structure, your nose, and down your neck. His hand curled around your neck, his thumb slid across your jaw and landed on your lips, a familiar move he had done many times.

You remained stock still, letting him explore. His eyes hadn’t met yours again, instead he was staring down at your lips while his thumb rubbed your bottom lip a few times. Taking a chance, you slightly puckered your lips to kiss the pad of his thumb. He blinked several times before finally looking up and into your eyes. There he was. His eyes softened immediately and he opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He tried again, but it wasn’t happening for now.

“It’s ok…you don’t have to talk right now, Josh,” you whispered.

Instead, he crashed his lips onto yours, and sank his body down to rest fully on top of you. The hand wrapped around your wrist let go and slid up to thread his fingers in yours, which you gladly squeezed back. Now it was your turn to reach up and cup his face, feeling his muscles move as he tilted his head to get a better angle.

But the sweet moment was cut short by him wrenching away from your face in pain. He sat up and straddled your waist, hands covering his mouth as he groaned into his palms. His fangs. They were trying to come down but he didn’t know how to relax and let it happen. Contrary to how they’re depicted in various forms of media, fangs don’t just instantly ‘click’ down. It's a skill. A skill one has to learn and hone in order to be able to feed properly and efficiently.

You carefully sat up and gently took his hands away from his face. His eyes looked scared again, and you quickly shushed him and softly spread your thumbs across his upper lip where his gums were. He winced a little at the sensitivity as his hands rested on your forearms.

“It's your fangs trying to come out for the first time. You have to relax, Josh,” he looked at you skeptically, “they can’t come down until you relax. Breathe through your nose for me? Yeah?”

He fully sat down on your thighs, and did what he was told and took deep breaths through his nose. His eyes were trained on you the entire time. He could feel his teeth begin to move, his canine teeth especially. It felt like an invisible force was prying them out of his mouth.

“I know it hurts, it always does the first few times, but soon you won’t even feel it happening, I promise,” your thumbs moved to his cheeks, your right one resting where his dimple normally was.

He nodded slightly and leaned into your hand, trying to stay relaxed.

“Watch me, ok?” You opened your mouth, baring your teeth and took a few deep breaths and slowly let down your own fangs. After over 350 years, it was hard to slow down the process, as you could complete the action as fast as blinking at this point, but you tried your best so your hunter-turned-Vampire could see it for himself. He studied the movement as it happened, finally having a proper visual to mentally focus on.

After a few more deep breaths, his teeth shifted again, this time down, but not all the way. A smile lit up your face as he parted his lips to show you, and you whispered praises to him as he continued breathing. With a slight groan, his teeth descended all the way, and you saw his fangs for the first time.

You stared in awe. While you met him as a human, seeing fangs in his mouth looked so…natural on him, as if they had always been there. Unexpected tears formed in your eyes, as it really hit you that he was a Vampire now, he was like you, and the two of you were the same.

“Beautiful…,” you mused while touching one with your thumb, “do you want to see them?”

He nodded, and you looked around to see if there was a mirror. The closest thing you had was your phone, and you quickly snatched it off the nightstand and turned the camera on, flipping it to selfie-mode and handing it to Josh. He turned the phone over in his hands and held it in front of his face. It was definitely strange to see protruding fangs in his mouth, but they didn’t feel out of place. He ran his tongue over them a few times, feeling how sharp they were, how much longer they were from his other teeth, and he turned his head back and forth to see them at different angles. Satisfied, he tossed your phone to the side on the bed before turning back to you and cupping your face once more to collide his lips to yours, this time smiling into the kiss.

It had been so long since you’ve kissed a fellow Vampire, especially one you lov- had feelings for. Your tongue slid across his teeth, feeling the contours and length of his fangs, and it was your turn to smile against his lips. He laid you back down onto the bed, shifting his legs so that he was between yours. His lips were everywhere, kissing all over your face and playfully scraping the tips against your skin.

But the urge to drive them into your neck, to fully taste you in a way he couldn’t when he was human, was reaching a boiling point in his system. He was putting more and more pressure against your neck, but not breaking the skin…yet.

You quickly recognized what he was doing, what he wanted, and you pushed him away so that he was back over your face instead.

“As much…as much as I’d love for you to do that…your first feed has to be with human blood…,” you were almost sad in telling him no, but this was a process that wasn’t fully complete until he tasted human blood for himself. It was what fully sealed a Vampire in their new form of existence, the full stop at the end of a sentence. Sheepishly, he closed his lips over his teeth, feeling like he had done something wrong. You caught the look in his eyes and quickly reassured him, “no no, it's ok, we’ll have plenty of time to do that afterwards, I promise.” You figured Dimitri himself would have a human or two on hand for feeding, as he was never a fan of blood bags.

As if on cue, the older Vampire in question rapped his knuckles on the door as he opened it.

“Is our dear-,” before he could finish his sentence Josh immediately shifted on the bed and practically shielded you from Dimitri, his instincts taking over briefly. Dimitri held up his hands in truce, “now now, Joshua I’m not going to do anything. It's wonderful to see you awake and back with us.”

You sat up behind Josh, looking at Dimitri over his shoulder, “you wouldn’t happen to have a human on hand? Please?”

“About that…after we talked earlier I let the Council know about your decision and that you were handling it yourself. They insisted on sending a representative here to make sure it actually happened.” He sighed before continuing, “Judith…is downstairs in the conservatory waiting for you.”

“Right now? He still can’t talk! He needs to have his first feed.”

“I know, darling, I didn't expect them to send her this quickly,” he rolled his eyes as he said ‘her’, letting you know that Judith was not one of his friends on the Council. “I’ll give you a few minutes, but it’ll be better for everyone if you don’t keep her waiting.” With a sympathetic look, he closed the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone.

“I’m so sorry, Josh, I didn’t kn-,” he turned and pressed a finger to your lips and shook his head, shushing you and letting you know that he understood. He got off the bed and collected his clothes from earlier that you had folded and placed on the couch. He threw his shirt on as he walked towards the ensuite at the far end of the room. You had already dressed while you had waited for him to wake up, so you sat at the edge of the bed and let him get ready. As he walked to the ensuite, you couldn’t help but notice that his walk was slightly different. His shoulders were straighter, his strides were quieter but more deliberate. You wondered if he himself even noticed the changes yet. From the angle of where you were sitting, you could just barely see himself checking his teeth out in the mirror again. His fangs had retreated back into his gums, and now his top row of teeth looked completely normal.

His eyes looked at you through the mirror, catching your gaze. He smirked at you, before turning to finish getting dressed. As he exited the ensuite he locked eyes with you again and in an attempt at his new speed, he tried to race over to you. However, stopping was a completely different story, and he ended up tackling you onto the bed.

Giggling, you reached up and traced his nose with your finger, “don’t worry, you’ll get there, Boy Scout.” You lifted your head to kiss him, and whispered against his lips, “come on, let's get this over with.”

It wasn’t hard to find the conservatory, all you had to do was follow the classical music being played. Just like the rest of the manor, Dimitri spared no expense in this room either. It was a massive space, with a complete wall of windows that went from the floor all the way into the ceiling, creating a dome-like appearance. It was a perfect view of the stars at night, and a perfectly lethal place for a Vampire to be in after sunrise. He also had so many plants in the room it almost looked like a small forest in the room. Most of the flowering plants had closed their blooms for the night, and the evergreens sat peacefully in their pots. The main source of light in the room were the various lanterns that were strategically placed among the greenery. It created such an intimate atmosphere, especially with the light of the Waning Moon filtering in from the windows above.

The beauty of the room stopped when you spotted the Council member sitting rather stiffly on the couch towards the middle of the room. Judith, as Dimitri called her, was a Vampire who appeared to be in her late fifties, with blonde hair that was so faded it almost looked gray at certain angles. She had it in a tight ponytail, making her sharp cheekbones the main feature of her face. Her eyes were equally gray, and they narrowed at the sight of Josh.

“Ah, finally, there they are,” she said in mock enthusiasm.

“Judith please,” Dimitri said with a sigh while nursing a drink in his hand.

Josh’s hand slid into yours as you made your way to the center of the room. His expression was neutral, but you knew his mind was full of thoughts and words for the snotty Vampire in front of him.

Judith uncrossed her ankles and stood up, clipboard firmly in the crook of her arm. She gave you a look that let you know to let her look at Josh alone, and you reluctantly let go of his hand and went over to stand next to Dimitri. Her back was to you now, but you were still able to maintain eye contact with Josh.

“Open your mouth,” she commanded flatly. She wanted to see his fangs.

Josh looked at you briefly over her shoulder, starting to panic because he had only made his fangs come down once at this point, and was still getting the hang of it. He put his hands behind his back and wrung his wrists, trying to remember what you had told him.

You kept eye contact with him, and motioned for him to take some deep breaths and to relax. Dimitri nodded along next to you; he wanted Josh to succeed almost as much as you did.

Josh’s Adams apple bobbed a little before he opened his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to replicate how he had done it upstairs less than an hour ago. Judith stood there, staring at his teeth with an unimpressed look on her face. But after a few tense minutes, his fangs descended and locked in place.

Judith made a small “hmph” sound and reached into the pocket of her skirt to fish out a measuring tape. She held the tape next to one of his fangs, and wrote down the measurement on the clipboard. She switched to the other side to get the other’s measurement, before mumbling loud enough for everyone to hear, “it's ok they’ll get longer in time.”

Josh clamped his mouth shut and gave her a look that was so pointed, you were glad he wasn’t able to actually speak. But the way his eyes glared at her spoke volumes on their own.

Judith ignored him while she made notes on the clipboard, scribbling away her thoughts and observations.

“Has he fed yet,” she said without looking up.

“Umm…no, not yet-”

“Excellent. Bring in one of your humans, Dimitris,” she commanded as she finished her notes and looked back up at Josh.

Dimitri sighed and took a long sip of his drink before motioning to one of his staff to fetch one of his human companions. He always had a steady supply of willing humans who were into being fed on. He had a knack for finding them in the haystack that was humanity.

Josh looked at you again over Judith’s shoulder, the same panicky look from before had returned on his face.

You mouthed, it's going to be ok, at him as the door opened and a woman in her mid twenties entered the room.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Dimitri, “hi Dimitri…,” she gave him a flirty wave with her fingers.

“Pleasure as always, Rebeckah,” he said with a small smile. She already knew where to go and dutifully went over to the couch and sat down, keeping her eyes on Dimitri the whole time.

Judith motioned for Josh to join Rebeckah, and made his way over to the couch and sat down. You started to follow him before she barked, “I’d like to witness this alone, actually.”

Something in you snapped, “the fuck you wi-”

Dimitri quickly stepped in, “what she’s trying to say is, as his Maker, I think it’s more than fair for her to be in the room for his first feed? Since he doesn’t know what he’s doing, she has a right to be here. In fact it would be the responsible thing to do, don’t you agree?”

Judith rolled her eyes, “fine, but she can’t interfere. The Council wants to see how he does on his own.”

The Council didn’t want to see shit, you thought, they wanted him to fail. They wanted the ‘I told you so.’

Dimitri’s large hand landed on your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze.

“Very well,” he said in a clipped tone.

You looked up at Dimitri, the worry written all over your face. He gave your shoulder another squeeze.

Tentatively, Josh reached over and took Rebeckah’s wrist in his hand, figuring that would be the best place. He could feel her pulse through her arm, and it made his gums above his fangs throb. He felt is instincts trying to guide him, which was a good sign until-

“Oh not the wrist, it's your first feed after all, I know you really want the neck deep down,” she was practically taunting him at this point, and turned back to the older Vampire and used his own words against him, “don’t you agree, Dimitris?”

Dimitri’s mouth twisted into a frown, “it is the ideal spot I suppose…”

You were practically vibrating with rage right now, and you wanted to physically rip Judith’s head off her body yourself. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be right there with him, guiding him through it and making sure he didn’t take too much.

“Don’t be shy, get closer to her,” Judith said while flicking her wrist at Josh.

Rebeckah obliged first and scooted close to him, angling her head to expose her neck. The smell of her blood filled his nostrils, and at first he thought he was hallucinating. He knew his senses would be stronger, but actually experiencing it was completely different.

Judith had her back to you and Dimitri once again, and you used this to your advantage as you looked at Josh over her shoulder. You feigned scratching your neck to show him where to put his hand, which he immediately copied.

He lowered his face to her neck, the scent of her blood was almost overwhelming to him now and it was still safely in her body. Part of him was running on pure instinct, and getting impatient that he hadn’t sunk his teeth into her yet, whereas the other part of him was having an out of body experience as the reality of the situation hit him. He was really about to drink blood, as a Vampire, for the first time. However, the instinctual side of him won out and he pressed his new fangs against her neck. He could feel her pulse against his teeth, and with the same ‘fuck it’ mentality one has before a shot of tequila, he pierced her flesh and her blood began flowing into his mouth.

Rebeckah made a small squeak, but she relaxed in his hold and a serene smile spread across her face.

Josh breathed through his nose and took his first real pull from her, and the sudden burst of flavor nearly had his eyes rolling back. He never expected blood to taste this good, let alone have a flavor profile. He recalled the taste of blood as he remembered it from his youth, that gross metallic flavor that would fill his mouth whenever he’d lose a tooth, or that one time Jake hit him in the mouth while they were fighting and cut his lip open. But now? Now he was getting notes of…lilies? Lavender maybe? It was all so overwhelming he wasn’t sure, he just knew that it was good. He kept pulling and pulling, feeling it run out of his mouth a little and down his chin.

You on the other hand were watching him like a hawk, and listening to Rebeckah’s heartbeat even closer. It was still steady and normal, but you knew it wouldn’t be that way for much longer. The way Josh was pulling was very deep, but he didn’t understand that yet. If you hadn’t been so stressed about your lack of involvement, you would’ve noted how absolutely gorgeous he looked while feeding. He needed to slow down, if not stop completely. You thought back to your first feed, and it didn’t end well for the human involved because you had zero guidance. Isaac had just let you do what you wanted and cleaned up the mess later. But you didn’t want that for Josh, he didn’t deserve to be traumatized right out of the gate like that.

He didn’t want this to end, part of him wanted to keep going until he couldn’t anymore. But this low thumping noise in his head got slower, and it was then he realized he had been hearing her heartbeat the entire time. It was slowing down, and he had just enough wherewithal to know he needed to let go. But knowing and doing were two different things.

You were starting to panic, and you looked at Josh, hoping he’d look up just long enough to make eye contact with you. Judith started scribbling notes again, and you wanted to crack that entire clipboard over her head. You thought about faking a cough, making some sort of noise, but you didn’t want her to send you out of the room for ‘interfering.’

Josh wrenched his eyes open, and looked up to find you. He saw your eyes were watery and filled with panic, and he understood why. From your vantage point, you mouthed the words, “you need to let go,” to him, and he wanted to listen, he really did, but it was as if his mouth and his brain weren’t working together. But, he tried anyway, and loosened his grip on Rebeckah’s neck and slowly worked at dislodging his fangs from her neck. He fought the urge that was screaming at him to keep going, to drain her dry like a juice box, but he refused to let that voice win. With more force than he would’ve liked, he pulled his teeth from her neck, and let go of her completely.

Before he could fully relax, he saw you point at your teeth, and then patted the side of your neck with those same fingers, silently telling him to use his blood to heal the bite. Josh sprung into action, quickly and hastily biting his index finger, breaking the skin and rubbing his own blood amongst her own on her neck along the puncture wounds. Within seconds they began to close and he was able to lean back on the couch, out of breath.

Judith paused for a second in her scribbling, and looked at her watch on her wrist and wrote down the time. She observed Rebeckah for another minute, who seemed completely fine with the situation and was only slightly miffed she had blood on her dress.

Dimitri gestured at the staff member standing by the door, “please take Miss Rebeckah to the kitchens to get her something to eat. Have the chef make her whatever she wants.”

Rebeckah smiled and stood up from the couch, “and what about my dress?”

“I’ll get you a new one, as always,” this made her smile as she made her way out of the room.

Without a second glance at Josh, Judith turned back to Dimitri and sighed, “I’ll give my observations to the Council but everything seems to be fine.” She looked at Josh over her shoulder, “welcome to your new life, don’t fuck up. We know who your family is, after all.”

Josh glared at her as she exited the room. Dimitri gave you a nod and left as well, leaving the two of you alone.

As soon as the door shut you rushed over to Josh, your hands immediately took his, as apologies fell from your mouth, “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t know that was going to happen, you weren’t supposed to be alone like that-”

“...sw-sweetheart…,” his voice was so faint, but it was there. He was gaining his voice back. Relief flooded through you, you didn’t realize just how much you missed his voice until he spoke again. You couldn’t take it anymore and practically lept into his lap and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. His arms instantly wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. He was so thankful to finally get his hands on you.

After spending several minutes just lying in his arms and breathing him in, you pulled back and said, “are you ok? How do you feel?”

A dreamy smile spread across his face, “honestly? I feel fucking incredible right now.” His voice was still scratchy, but it was gradually getting stronger.

You smiled back, “yeah? You did so good earlier, I want you to know that. They were setting you up to screw up but you didn’t. It's so difficult to stop like you did the first few times, let alone the first time. I’m so proud of you, Boy Scout.”

His cheeks reddened at the praise, “Ah, I just…I just remembered what you told me about listening for the heartbeat…had to force myself off though.”

You were beaming at him now, “I’m not saying it's going to be easy, but I just know you’re going to be so good at it in no time. Next time I’ll be right there with you, I promise. I won’t let anyone get in the way of that again.”

His hands slipped under your shirt and rubbed the skin of your back, “I know you wanted to be there, it wasn’t your fault…”

“But I-”

“I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this, it happened, but all we can do is move forward.”

You knew he was right, but you still felt bad, “I know I just-”

“Next time we can share, yeah?”

That surprised you, and you smirked at him, “Boy Scout…”

He glanced out the wall of windows, and noticed the dark blue sky was starting to get lighter, “I think…I think we need to go back upstairs…and shut the windows…,” the suggestion dripped from his voice.

“Race you there?”

“You better get started, sweetheart…,” his eyes bore into yours before you took off from the conservatory. The two of you were a pair of giggling blurs rushing up the stairs to the third floor. He caught up to you at the door, and lurched to a halt while pressing you up against the solid wood. You reached behind you to start twisting the doorknob as he snaked an arm around your waist. His eyes looked even darker in the dim lighting of the corridor, but his smile was sweet, a combination that only he could pull off.

Stumbling into the room, Josh locked the door behind him before reaching down and firmly gripping your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. He carried you backwards to the bed, while you stripped your shirt off and threw it blindly to the side. Your hands instantly returned to his cheeks as he laid you on the bed. He stood up momentarily to throw off his own shirt, before crawling up the bed and getting on top of you. The rest of your clothes were quickly shed, leaving the both of you naked.

Josh’s mouth devoured yours, sucking on your bottom lip before he slipped his tongue inside and tangled it with your own. You moaned into his mouth, the relief of him being okay and back in your arms spurring you on. He groaned and lifted off your lips slightly, running his tongue along his top teeth. He looked at you, a little annoyed at his own body as his fangs tried to descend again.

You recognized the look, and you smiled, “don’t fight it, Josh. Let them down, I wanna see them again…”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and concentrated. They came down ever so slightly faster this time, but he still winced at the pain.

Staring at him, you reached up and gently touched one with your finger, “I just can’t get over how beautiful they look on you…”

His cheeks reddened before he started working his way down your body, kissing every bit of skin he could reach. Every so often he’d drag his fangs across your skin, causing you to arch your back. As he made his way down to your core, he deliberately skipped where you needed him most to pay attention to your thighs.

You sat up on your elbows and made a noise in protest, which made him chuckle against your skin. One of the few downsides (at least to him) to you being a supernatural creature was that any hickey’s he made would heal within minutes, but he loved littering your skin with them anyway. The way you arched towards him, trying to get him where you needed him only made him tease you further. Every time you thought he was going to put that perfect mouth of his against your core, he’d switch to the other thigh to nip and suck at your skin.

“If you don’t-”

Before you could finish your sentence your lover latched onto your core, flattening out his tongue and licking a stripe from your entrance to just below your clit. A frustrated noise escaped you, and his eyes met yours with the most mischievous energy behind them. Those pools of molten molasses seemed to darken even more. Tilting his head slightly and curling his lip up to show you his teeth, he drug one of his new fangs over the edges of your lips, up and up, and slowly circled your clit. He put just enough pressure for you to feel the sharp edge against your sensitive flesh, before diving in and sharply sucking your clit into his mouth. You cried out, loud enough to echo around the room, and you couldn’t give a shit if anyone in this fortress of a house could hear you.

Two of his fingers teased your entrance before plunging in, curling upwards and giving that spot inside you all the attention they could. His pace was quick and brutal, spurred on but the grip you had in in his hair and how you were practically fucking his mouth. He grinded his own need onto the mattress, desperate for some friction of his own.

It wasn’t long before your first orgasm of the night washed over you, making you shake beneath him while grinding on his face. His fingers worked even harder to ride it out, drawing it out as long as possible for you. But he didn’t give you a chance to fully still. Placing one final kiss to your clit, he crawled up your body to claim your mouth, letting you taste yourself all over him.

You were far from done when you flipped him over, straddling his hips and grinding against his cock. He threw his head back and made the sexiest whining sound you had heard in a long time. He sat up and gripped your ass, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Tell me what you want…,” he whispered against your mouth while keeping you hovered just above his cock.

“Josh please-”

“Josh please, what, sweetheart?”

“I need you, don’t be mean,” your voice was nearly an octave higher than normal, and now it was your turn to sound whiny.

“...and what do you need?”

Your nails dug into the skin at the base of his neck, not caring if they broke skin a little now, he could handle it.

“Your cock, Josh, I need your cock.”

His eyebrows raised in the cockiest manner, “oh? This? This cock?” Before you could answer he pulled you down onto him, plunging him deep inside as he bottomed out. His eyes rolled back at finally being inside you, and you used this distraction to tighten your pussy around him as revenge. A strangled noise left his throat, “you are…such…a little brat…”

You smirked as you started to work yourself on his cock, relishing in every ridge and vein he had to offer you. He kept one arm around your ass, guiding you and gripping you as he leaned back on his other hand. As your pace quickened, you felt your own gums start to itch and move. You let your fangs descend, not wanting or needing to hold back anymore while with your lover. He was kissing your shoulder, and you leaned your head down to graze your teeth against the shell of his ear.

He lifted his head, and gave you an equally toothy grin, both of you baring your fangs at each other.

“Boy Scout…,” you started, nearly breathless, “remember earlier when I told you to wait?” He instantly caught on to what you were referring to, when he had almost bit you earlier. His Adam's apple bobbed as he nodded. “If I let you do that…can I bite you too?”

His cock twitched inside you at the question, “please, please do…”

“Taste me, Josh, show me you know how,” you whispered.

Another strangled sound escaped him before he lowered his head and pierced your neck with his fangs. It had been…a long time, decades even, since you had had a Vampire taste you. It was such an intimate act, most considered it almost sacred.

Josh took a long pull off of you, and the first note that hit his tongue was a distinct cherry flavor, tart but sweet, along with a distinct undercurrent of sea salt. He could practically smell the ocean. Flashes and sounds started to flood his mind, swirling around in his mind's eye. They focused, and he saw you, as a teen in Jamestown, scrubbing the floors of the house you used to live in. A second flash, it's the Victorian era, and you’re giggling in bed with another man. You called him Colin before it dissipated. Another flash, it’s twenties and you look sad as you sipped your drink. You were surrounded by people partying, but you weren’t matching the energy. A final flash, this time it's the seventies and you look darling in your bell bottoms and feathered hair. You seemed happier then, laughing with a few girlfriends in a bar.

The feeling of his fangs in your skin hurtled you toward your second orgasm. Before you could reach your high, you bit down on your lover's flesh. His taste…his taste was the same, but it was so much more vibrant? As if it had been turned up several notches. That orangey citrus flooded your senses, and as the vanilla showed itself to you, flashes started behind your eyes too. A small, scared, seven year old Josh scrambled to stab a rogue Vampire in the leg with a knife from under his bed. Another flash, this time Josh was older, late teens at best, getting lectured by his father about a hunting job gone wrong. The importance of his responsibility as the “oldest” was being drilled into his head. Flash number three, Josh is sitting next to his twin in front of a fire, laughing at some inside joke as he brings his beer to his lips. Who knew Jake Kiszka was capable of smiling? The final flash was him gathering some files on a table, the one on top had your name clearly on the tab. He wasn’t in his apartment, but in a room that looked like an office.

Your vision went dark as your high overtook you, making you shake and pulse around him. His cock twitched inside you again, and a muffled groan shuddered against your skin letting you know he had reached his own high. Carefully, you each withdrew your teeth and lapped at the fresh blood on your skin as your wounds healed.

Josh kissed you softly, mixing your blood with his, enjoying the taste. He opened his eyes and smiled at you, feeling more content and happy than he had in days. The stress from the past week had completely evaporated, and in this moment, all he saw, all he cared about, was you.

His Vampire.

The adoration for him was written all over your face, and you silently noted the blood smeared all over him. You looked over your shoulder at the ensuite, and could see the edge of a clawfoot tub from the doorway.

“Lets get cleaned up, Boy Scout…”

His grin widened and he looked over your shoulder, seeing what you were looking at. He also saw the first light of the day start to filter in through the windows. Thankfully the bed was positioned in a way that didn’t put it anywhere near them, but in order to get the ensuite they’d have to cross them. Carefully he kept you in place as he reached for the remote on the nightstand.

He punched the buttons, and the shades came down. His hand squeezed the flesh of your ass, “only the moon gets a free show, sweetheart…”

You gave him a quick kiss before crawling off of him and leading him into the bathroom. Soon, the both of you were situated in the hot water, enjoying the extra wide clawfoot tub.

Josh tried to take the lead in cleaning up, but you stopped him and took it upon yourself to clean the blood off of his skin. He relaxed into the water as you swept the rag over his skin. Meticulously you cleaned any dry blood out of his beard and mustache, kissing him as you went. It had been a long time since someone had properly taken care of him afterwards.

It was clear to you that the new-Vampire exhaustion was creeping up on your lover, and you worked a little faster to get him cleaned up so the two of you could return to bed. He would probably have another long sleep again, but not nearly as long as that first one. The process of becoming a Vampire was complete, but it still took time for the body to adjust.

Soon you were back in bed with him, the covers pulled over your exhausted bodies as you wrapped yourselves around each other. His ear was on your chest, and you were softly grazing your nails against his scalp. His eyes were closed, and sleep was well on its way.

He pressed a soft kiss against your skin before mumbling, “...love you…”

You stared at him as he completely stilled in your arms, eyes welling up,

“Love you too, Boy Scout,” but you weren’t sure he heard it.

To be continued…

Tag List: @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet ,

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #i see hell in your eyes #josh gvf #greta van fleet #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

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Hi Petri, I would want to request a Minho x fem! reader where they know each other since before the mazes, when where just some simple tests in wckd, they were really close but were sent out to different mazes, reader's maze was in the edge of a river (who was the maze btw) and she manages to get out and get to the safe haven, and she have this glimpses of her past, dreams of things that happened, memories, but to her they're just stupid dreams, that's until she sees Minho again and everything seems to click cause she knows she knows him, and he has this feeling she's familiar too and then te friendship they had transition to love. (I saw your post about oc's and tried my best to be kinda of creative with this request, hope it went well 😅)

Ooo, I really like the idea of a water-based Maze. I can imagine little floating shacks held up by sticks and a rowing boat needed to traverse the Maze- definitely a good idea.

Also, I'm a sucker for the dream trope in this universe.

LIFE BEFORE DROWNING

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Movie based fic because of the different Mazes.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, awkward teenagers, mention of Newt's suicide attempt, I've made up a monster for your Maze that is the equivalent of the Grievers, some mild suggestive themes, WICKED being WCKD because movie.

After hearing the experiences of other WCKD Subjects, you're starting to realise that your Maze was a little weird.

There was a Maze full of boys, one full of girls, another with mixed, some with monsters, some without- all nearly impossible to solve.

And yours was full of water.

For a few years, your life was like waking up and forgetting there's not ground beneath your feet, walking off your little wooden platform, and nearly drowning. You disliked the water.

It meant you also has to explore your Maze in a poorly constructed boat and had to deal with a half-metal half-serpent monster that roamed your Maze.

It was terrifying.

But that's not the only thing that strikes you as different to the others.

You remember things. Well, kind of.

Whilst you were in your Maze, you used to have memories- well, dreams -of your life before the Maze.

And most of them consisted of the same boy.

Asian. Dark-haired. Well-built. Taller than you. Handsome. Sarcastic. Passionate. And he cared about you, clearly.

You had dreams of playing card games together, sneaking around a lab, exchanging glances and pulling faces at each other whilst men in lab coats probe you, and staying up late in a cafeteria area when you weren't meant to.

It was all simple and meaningless- none of it ever held any significance. But it meant a lot to you. You didn't understand it, but it feels like you know this boy and that your friends with him.

You used to tell your friends in the Maze about it, and none of then experienced anything similar. So, you're really on your own with this one.

Though, one of your friends- your best friend, actually; a girl called Emmy, said something that stuck with you. And maybe even made you think it's true.

"Maybe WCKD couldn't take away the people we loved the most, no matter how hard they tried."

That doesn't matter, though. The survival rate of the Maze and WCKD in general is low.

But you're not in the Maze, anymore.

You were one of the first groups to be taken away from WCKD and put in the Safe Haven. You pretty much went straight from the Maze to paradise.

It was about sixish months later that the Gladers showed up. They'd been through hell and back, so Vince told everyone to give them space apart from the few people they actually knew.

You didn't really care for new arrivals. There has been a few since you got there, so it kind of became normal. But since Vince is back now, you doubt you'll get anymore.

Because of your simple lack of care, and the assumption the guy in your dreams is dead, it took you an embarrassingly long time to actually notice Minho.

A couple of weeks into the Gladers arrival, you stopped dead in your tracks, causing Emmy to walk straight into the back of you and drop soil absolutely everywhere.

"Bro? What the hell?" Emmy hisses. You don't respond, staring straight ahead. "(Y/N)?"

"It's him," you say.

"What?" She follows your line of sight, her gaze landing on the boy.

"The boy from my dream-memories - that's him."

"Holy shit. Are you sure?"

Minho is sitting at one of the dining tables with Gally, Thomas and Frypan, whilst you stand there like a deer in the headlights.

"Uh, dude," Thomas says to Minho as he takes a swig of the alcohol that Gally's made. Some things never change and the Gladers have got into the habit of finishing their jobs as soon as possible and day drinking to cope. "That girl is totally staring at you."

"Huh?" Minho looks at his friend, who points at you.

And then he looks at you.

"Oh, fuck, he's looking." You immediately avert your gaze. "Shit, Emmy, move. Go, go." You awkwardly push your friend away.

"My soil-"

"We can get more damn soil!" And with that, you flee.

Well, that was probably the most embarrassing thing you've done. That you can remember, at least.

Minho's blood ran cold, however.

You met his eyes for only a couple of seconds and it felt like he'd known you his whole life. You feel... familiar.

Minho didn't experience the same constant dreams you did- mainly because he's plagued by nightmares of Grievers and that day he found Newt out there. But he's had a couple. He can't remember them very well, but the parts he does remember have your face in it.

You go on acting a bit weird. Every chance you have to look at Minho, you take it.

Which also goes on for a couple of weeks.

"Haven't spoken to him, then?"

"'Course I haven't," you grumble to Emmy as you do your work in the garden. "And I'm not going to."

"What? Why not?"

"Because how would I go about that? 'Hey, dude, you don't know me but I've been having dreams about you for as long as I can remember- wanna be pals?'"

She chuckles, shaking her head. "I mean, why not?"

"What?"

"Why not go and say that to him? I mean, people have probably experienced weirder things 'causea WCKD- and those bastards from Group A had it the worst. I'm sure he'll understand."

"We don't know him," you groan, throwing your head back.

"But you do-"

"No, I don't." You sigh. "Maybe- maybe I used to, but I don't now. This is dumb." You pick up the empty water bucket and start walking backwards. "I'm not gonna speak to him- there's no point-! Shit!"

You back up into someone, the bucket clattering to the floor and the slight splash of water left in spilling out.

"Shit, sorry-" you turn around, meeting Minho's eyes. You blink, steeping back to lengthen the short distance between you. "Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I-I wasn't looking-"

"It's cool. All good," he holds his hands up.

Little did you know, Minho was actually on his way over to talk to you.

You let out a breath of relief, giving him an awkward smiles. "So, who aren't you going to talk to?"

He grins at you, playfully, and you look to Emmy for help. Who simply shrugs.

"Uh, nobody- doesn't matter."

"Alright," he clicks his tongue, "you guys are from a Maze, right? That weird, like, river one?"

"You been asking people about us?" Emmy pipes up and you glare at her.

"Just heard a couple of things," he puts his hands in his pockets, rocking in his heels. He looks at the bucket on the floor. "You need water?"

"Uh, yeah, we use it for the watering can. I was just about to get some more."

"Ah, it's fine," he bends over and picks it up, "I'll get it for ya."

"Oh, uh, don't you have a job to do?"

"I'm already done, besides, can't have a pretty girl wasting her energy, can I?" He smirks at you before turning and walking away, leaving you flustered.

You turn to Emmy, who is grinning from ear to ear.

"Don't."

Minho returns and insists on helping you out on the gardens. Emmy feigns illness to give you some alone time.

That you don't want.

Though, Minho is a shit gardener.

"It's obvious you didn't work with plants in your Maze," you chuckle.

"Really? I thought I was impressing you," he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes. "I was a Runner, if you're interested."

"A Runner?" You lean on a plant support beam as Minho picks at some vegetables.

"Yeah, exactly what it says in the tin- I ran the Maze. Day in, day out. I was Keeper- uh, Leader of the Runners."

"Wow, musta been pretty good at it."

"I wasn't half bad," he chuckles. "What did you do? You have a job in your Maze?"

You shake your head. "Everyone kinda did a bit of everything. We worked on rotation since groups had to go out in boats, exploring the Maze was hard- so we all took it in turns. Fresh eyes also meant someone could spot something we didn't. Everyone was on the same field in my home."

"You didn't have a Leader?"

"Well, we all just respected the first guy that got there, but I wouldn't say he was in charge."

"So, you had guys and girls in your Maze?"

"Mhm, you didn't? Oh, shit yeah, you're Group A." You recall Emmy saying.

"Mhm- just dudes."

"Must've sucked. I can't imagine being stuck with just a buncha guys- gross."

He barks a laugh, standing up and shaking his had. "We had one girl- she was only there for a couple of days. But I'm pretty sure we did gross her out the brief time she was there."

"What was she like?"

"Total bitch-"

"Hey," you snap, "watch your mouth, man, you shouldn't talk about women like that."

He holds his hands up again. "Sorry. I just mean..." He trails off, the memory clearly becoming painful. "She betrayed us. Told WCKD our location and had me- well she- I was... shuck it."

"You don't have to tell me about it," you reassure him, "shit happens; I'm not entitled to know about it."

"No, uh," he hesitates. "It's weird, I wanna tell you. Kinda feels like I know you."

"We've never spoken before-" you try to brush off the comment, not wanting this awkward conversation. You figured once you came here, awkward conversations and relationship drama would be over.

"That's not what I mean," he sighs. "I know it's forward, but there are a lot of people I wish I woulda told klunk to before I lost 'em. So, I'm just sayin' it. You feel familiar. Like I know you before I lost my memories. You feel it too, right?"

You pause, but nod. "Yeah, I know you."

"Then we should be friends, right? If we know each other?"

You smile, feeling butterflies in your stomach. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And from then on, you became friends with Minho.

You eat with him, stay up late talking to him, get introduced to the Gladers, drink with them, and just generally have fun with him and his friends. Even Emmy joins in- and you're pretty sure she has a thing for Frypan.

But the problem is that you have a thing for Minho. He's effortlessly attractive, and he's funny and attentive. He makes it known he cares about you and likes making you laugh.

And it's starting to make your heart skip a beat, especially when he jokingly flirts with you. It did start off as a dumb inside joke, but now you're starting to hope it's genuine.

Your friendship grows closers and your wants grow bigger.

"What the hell are you doing?" You shout as you watch the Gladers splash water at each other and frolic in the ocean under the moonlight. They've all stripped down into their underwear in what was originally a dare from Emmy, but now they're enjoying it.

"Come on!" Minho shouts, standing up straight as he waves you towards him. You swallow as you watch salt water dribble down his abs.

Yanno, if he wasn't so fine, this crush would be less of a problem.

"The water feels shuckin' great! Aha! Oi! Gally! Stop it! You goddamn slinthead!" He shouts as he gets attacked.

"C'mon, (Y/N), it'll be fun." Emmy giggles, kicking her shoes off and walking towards the water.

Then she freezes. Just before her toes hit the water.

Due to the nature of your Maze, most people got attacked by the fresh-water monster you called the Serpent. You only had the one, but it's shadow lurked under the boat and it's full form was never seen because of it's size.

Either you got bit when it jumped out the water and it dragged you with it until you drowned, or it injected you with venom. It wouldn't kill you, but it left you seething with agony for days.

You got biten twice. Emmy three times.

You don't like big bodies of water now- especially when you can't see the bottom.

"Emmy?" You step towards your friend, putting your hand on her shoulder.

"I-I can't- what if something's in there?"

"There's nothing in there; we're safe here. But you don't have to go in. I'm not."

"C-can we get a drink?"

"Sure," you give her a soft smile. "Hey, guys!" You shout, getting the boys' attention. "We're calling it a night- see you tomorrow."

They group hollars their goodbyes and you both leave to have a couple of drinks before bed.

You watch Emmy sleep, hands in your pockets as she lightly snores in her pocket.

"Hey," Minho makes you jump and you immediately shush him. "Hey," he repeats, in a whisper this time. "You okay? You kinda ran off before."

He's fully clothed now, but his hair's still damp.

"Yeah," you clear your throat, "just... Maze shit, you know?"

He raises his head up a bit. "Dare I ask?"

You sigh, nodding for him to follow you. He does as you sit on once of the benches on the sand.

He gingerly sits next to you.

"You ever wonder why Emmy and I don't really talk to anyone else?"

"Kinda, just figured you didn't like many people."

"It's because we're the only two people that survived our Maze." He shifts slightly, his jaw tensing. "You had your Grievers, we had our Serpent. It was Lovecraftian big, and we had to get through the last part of our Maze on foot because getting the boats over the circular doorframes was taking too long. It was a bloodbath- let that thing pick us off one by one until me and Emmy were the last men standing. She doesn't like- we don't like water anymore." You pause.

"I always think the Serpent is going to dive out and drag me under or tear me shreds." You look at him. "I know it's dumb and we're safe here but I-" your voice breaks. "I can't- I lost everyone, I can't-"

"Hey, hey," he throws his arm around you, pulling you into a hug. "It's okay, I get it. You know, whenever anyone's building anything around here with those tools we stole from WCKD, I can't be anywhere near it. It sounds exactly like the noises the Grievers used to make- I don't know how Gally works with that klunk all day."

"We're fucked up, huh?" You chuckle between sniffs and he grins at you.

"Yeah, we are. Thanks WCKD."

You both chuckle. But you stop when your eyes land on his lips, flickering up to his eyes and his lips again.

"What do you think we used to be? Before the Maze?" You mumble.

He smiles faintly. "What do you mean?"

Maybe it's the buzz from the alcohol from your drinking game that's making you so bold, or maybe it's how close he is. It doesn't matter- you're drunk in some sense.

"Well, we know each other, do you reckon we were just friends or..?"

He tilts his head. "Why? What did you want us to be?"

"I used to have dreams about you- in the Maze. All the time. Emmy used to tease me about my 'old boyfriend'," you smile fondly, "it was so dumb, but... I don't know."

"Do you wonder if she was right?"

You don't speak, just giving a simple nod. "Do you want her to be?"

"Do you?"

You lock eyes with him. His eyelids are heavy and his body is now completely facing you. "Shuck it," he mumbles, leaning in a kissing you.

You gasp into his lips for a second, and it feels like something bursts in your chest.

You kiss him back immediately, fire sparking along your skin and the world feeling lighter. You run your fingers through his hair, his pulling you closer by your waist.

He pulls away, sucking in air. He goes to speak but as his eyes flicker open, it's like something overwhelms him and he kisses you again, deeper this time. His tongue brushes over your lower lip and he pulls on the belt straps of your jeans.

You hum into his mouth, egging him on further. But he suddenly breaks away.

"I gotta stop," he mumbles, pretty much into you, "or I'm gonna get carried away."

You snicker, the thought making more butterflies form in your stomach.

"Yanno," he continues, breathing laboured. "It doesn't really matter what we used to be- it matters what we are now."

"And?" You raise your eyebrow. "What do you want that to be?"

He grins. "Haven't I made that obvious?" He says before he kisses you again.

Yo yo, I really liked this one, and I got to be creative with making my own WCKD creation.

I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri writes tmr #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri tmr minho #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho tmr x reader #minho maze runner #the maze runner

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fandomsandflyingstingrays · 22 days

Text

Luz has been here before.

When she stood between two different worlds, between two different families who needed her, and watched one of them disappear behind a door she didn’t know how to open. When she bridged the divide between dimensions as an echo to reach out to her mom, only to watch her mom's tears mix with the rain as she shrank into a memory and Luz was pulled away. When she watched her mentor’s eyes fill with darkness, the shadows sealing Eda so deep within herself that Luz didn’t know how to call her back. When she sat in a white-walled room facing a separation beyond portals or curses, seeing her dad right beside her and knowing, at the same time, that he would never be with her again.

Luz has been here before, again and again and again, and she never manages to find the right goodbye.

All she can do is admit that to Eda and King before she can no longer see them through her tears, before they splinter into light and she is obscured by shadow, unable to conceive of anything but the embrace of a dark ocean and a single thought.

I know what I should have said. I should have thanked them.

The lost words, the goodbye that she has never, ever been quick enough to get out, lodge and swell in her throat before finding their release in a single sob. She watches the tears mix with the water that holds her and relaxes into its embrace.

Then, all at once, there is a hand around her wrist, and she is being yanked upwards into light and air.

It feels exhausting just to stand, and she sways, blinking at her rescuer through bleary eyes. At first, all she can see is a blurred form, a sort of worm… bird worm… Hooty? Only, when she blinks again, she realize that this Hooty is still, expressionless, and tiny, protruding from the eye socket of someone who looks like…

“King?”

The figure chuckles in a voice that is decidedly not King’s, deep and measured. “No. But he does get his good looks from me.”

In the last twenty-four hours, Luz has faced down a dragon of eyeballs and mold, been chased through a celestial playground, and seen Mattholomule with a drawn-on mustache, and she’s managed not to get overwhelmed. But this? She feels like her brain is a plate of warm spaghetti, being twirled around and around on a fork.

“Oh, Titan,” she breathes.

“Oh, me!” her rescuer says, pleased. “Nice to meet you, Luz the human.”

He’s wearing a Bad Girl Coven shirt, Luz realizes half-hysterically. And glyph-patterned pajama pants. But still, she reaches out and takes his hand. He might be some kind of mold-blast-induced dream, but that’s no reason not to be polite.

“You can’t actually be the Titan Titan, right? You’re the Boiling Isles, and that Titan is all—“

“Dead-looking?” he asks. His expression is sad, but there’s no denial in it, and Luz feels her knees go weak. She wraps her arms around herself, slowly sinking back into the embrace of the water.

“Does that mean I’m also…”

“Ah, no, nope, no, you don’t want to do that.” He reaches out, pulling her back to her feet. “If you go under without a portal, you really will be dead-looking.”

So… she’s not? And neither is he? Luz finds herself beaming. “I can’t believe this. You’re King’s dad!”

“I think King said it best once: ‘I am both king and queen, best of both things!’ But dad works fine.”

This might be the coolest being Luz has ever met.

With her most pressing questions answered, Luz looks around, and realizes to her surprise that her surroundings are familiar. The liquid below her, the floating cubes above… this is the space between the Human Realm and the demon one. Only, she’s never been clear about where exactly that is.

“What is this place?”

“This is the space in between… well, in between a lot of places. And I’ve been stuck here for quite some time. But at least I can keep an eye on my child, and those who have been kind to him.”

King’s dad grabs hold of a passing cube and watches images pass over it. Luz grabbing King in a hug, the two of them laughing over a pile of bread slices, Eda embracing them both. Luz feels warm and cold all at once. She’s thrilled for King, eager to tell him, that the parent he felt so far away from him was watching him with so much love. But behind that happiness is the question of her own dad, and the breathless wish that he could be watching her and the people she loves in the same way.

As soon as she thinks it, shame rises in her, so thick and choking that she has to look away. Does she really wish her dad could see what she’s become? This person who was nearly responsible for the deaths of an entire island of people, who can never make a plan that doesn’t fall apart almost immediately, who has turned so angry and vengeful?

“I’m not so kind,” she whispers. “When I saw the Collector fly up to Belos, I hoped with all my heart I would see them blast him away, and—"

“Hey, I can relate. I was willing to do anything to keep my kid safe. But I attacked the wrong person, dragged the Collector down here for nothing.”

“Does that make us as bad as Belos?”

To Luz’s shock, King’s dad laughs. “What? Have you been drinking Eda’s homemade apple blood?”

“Well, Belos says he’s trying to save humanity, and we’re saying we want to save our families, so isn’t that the same thing, don’t those feelings come from the same place?”

“Well, you assume Belos’s goal comes from a genuine place. But that man doesn’t care about anything but his need to be the hero in his own delusion. And because of that, he fears what he can’t control.”

“And now that fear is going to win.”

“Ah, dang.” Luz turns to see King’s dad staring down at his chest. She gasps.

There’s a glowing tumor there, eating a hole into it. It’s the same fungus that’s covering the Isles, she knows, the one Belos conjured— but it looks so much like her childhood nightmare, like the way her younger self began to picture her dad’s insides as his outside grew weaker and weaker, that a single look at it is enough to burn her eyes.

“I thought I had more time left,” King’s dad says, “but Belos will have full control soon.” He looks at Luz. “You ready to stop him?”

“What? What can I do?”

Nothing. It’s the obvious answer, the lesson Luz has learned time and time again. She moved to Gravesfield without complaint because she thought it would fix her dad, and she was wrong. She did that stupid book report because she thought it would fix things for her mom, and she was wrong. She tried to fix things for the Isles, again and again and again, and she only made things worse— and then, when she attempted to set that right, she ended up here.

“You’ve already helped King so much. Now let me use my last bit of life to help you.”

King’s dad extends his hand, glowing with a combination of glyphs Luz has never seen before. But she knows what it means, what he’s offering: a second chance. A new body. Magic.

“Are you sure you want to give this power to me?”

“Well, you’re the one here, and you seem like a good witch. But I can’t give you anything unless you choose to accept it. So the question is, will you choose yourself?”

Luz has a flash of seeing the Titan as she knew him, watching his skeleton in the sea from high above on Owlbert, Eda on one side of her and King on the other. Look, kid, everyone wants to believe they’re chosen. But if we all waited around for a prophecy to make us special, we’d die waiting. That’s why you need to choose yourself.

Luz came to the Isles wanting to be a savior. If the person she was then had been in this position, she would have taken the Titan’s hand without hesitation, overjoyed to fulfill her fantasy. To be the hero in her own delusion. But she knows now that she’s not a hero. She’s just the one here.

The one here... because King’s dad believed she was a good witch. Because even when she was caught up in her fantasy, he still saw enough in her worth empowering to show her the glyphs she withheld from Belos. That has to mean something.

You’ve helped King so much, he said, and she believes him. She knows King loves her. And if she had given up after her dad died, if she had let herself believe it would be better for her mom if she became someone neither of them recognized, she never would have found him. Never would have found Eda and reunited her with Lilith, helped Amity leave her parents’ shadow and reconnect with Willow, helped Hunter see the truth about Belos before it was too late. She tried to help people, and yes, sometimes there was nothing she could do. Yes, sometimes she hurt people in the process. But she never meant to. Not like Belos… not like Philip.

Luz has been here before. Standing before a father she can’t heal. But there is still something she can do. It’s something she did for her mom, opening The Good Witch Azura for the first time in her black dress and reading it through puffy eyes. It’s something she did for Eda and King, following Owlbert through the portal door. It’s something she did for Amity and Willow and Hunter and Gus, running to that same door with them as it threatened to splinter apart. It’s something she did for all of them when she stepped back into the Isles two months later.

Luz can choose herself.

She reaches out to take King’s dad’s hand. And she comes back to life.

#happy one year of watching and dreaming everyone #the owl house #toh #luz noceda #camila noceda #manny noceda #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #king clawthorne #papa titan #willow park #gus porter #amity blight #toh hunter #toh hooty #emperor belos #philip wittebane #ray rambles #ray writes

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tallymonster · 3 months

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Memories of Us chapter 14. Touch

AO3 link | master list

Well here we are. Gonna just say this first. There is sex in this one. So if you wanna just get into it, go thru the cut. I don't blame you. I would do the same thing.

I just wanna preface this by saying, I struggled a lot with this one, but I'm glad I made it work. I will be taking a break for a bit while I go on vacation, so hopefully I can reset, get incredibly stoned and have some good stuff when I come back.

Thanks to @micropoe10 @tragedybunny and @leomonae for talking me off the ledge multiple times, reading it, and giving me a lot of help with my sanity and tense usage.

Thanks as always to @cheesy-cryptid for giving me permission to use their art as inspiration ❤️

Same for the girls in the group chat I'm in. Thanks guys.

Everything is happening so fast.

Astarion is fully in a blood drunk state, his senses heightened as her blood brings back all the strength and life he’s been sorely missing. Octavia’s lips feel like he is falling into the most plush bed with warm fluffy pillows.

He can almost taste the contented sighs coming from her mouth.

Meanwhile, Octavia is totally lightheaded. The loss of blood makes her feel like her body is floating, but Astarion still keeps her grounded with his touch. She can taste the iron tinged flavor of her blood in his mouth.

Suddenly, he pulls away. His hair is disheveled from Octavia running her hands all through it. He's breathing heavily and tries fixing the curls that fell in his face.

“I’m sorry, it's been so long, I lost control.” He brushes the back of his hand over his lips, smearing Octavia’s blood on his bottom lip. Octavia can't help but notice the immediate change in his appearance.

Octavia’s eyes keep wandering down, scanning every part of him that looks different. Astarion’s skin is brighter and more rosy than usual; the tips of his ears, cheeks, and nose have a faint reddish pink blush on them. It matches the same on his neck, going down his chest.

Astarion hopes she won’t notice that he is trembling a bit from the energy coming back to his body. Octavia’s blood is incredible; he can feel it coursing through his veins and bringing him back to life.

Octavia can't help the shivering her body is doing. First from the blood loss, but then from the adrenaline and fear mixed with the heightened state of arousal her body is going through. Everything in her kept telling her to stop while she had a chance to get out of this, but there are other parts of her that desperately need to keep going.

Astarion quickly pulls out the red handkerchief from his coat on the armrest and places it on Octavia’s wrist. She takes her hand and puts pressure on it. Astarion reaches, as if wanting to help, but he just as quickly pulls back from her.

“Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?” Astarion asks, his voice strained and gravelly as if holding himself back. Octavia watches as one of his hands begins to slide up her thigh. “I’m okay..” her voice sounds breathy and dreamlike. She pulls the kerchief down to assess the damage.

To her surprise, it isn’t as bad as it had seemed. Two small puncture marks dot the area. The blood has stopped, but she will surely have proof of what happened.

“I- I’m fine, just a little woozy…” Octavia stammers out, feeling the warm sensation from before settling in her stomach, traveling down her core. She looks back up at him, noticing the blood on his lips; she takes the kerchief and wipes his mouth.

Her hand lingers on his lip, eyes gazing mindlessly at his lips. The tension between them builds as they move closer on the couch. Astarion sees the rise and fall of her chest; the way her skin is flushed, lips parted and eyes blown wide. She looks absolutely delicious.

Astarion runs his hand up her thigh some more, making little circles along the inside of it. Octavia can tell her blood is having other effects on him. His ragged breaths, eyes half lidded. He licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one with a desperate hum.

Octavia can't stop herself from being incredibly turned on from this whole thing. She’s had sexual partners before, of course, but most of them had been greedy, fame hungry, or just boring. None of them have ever intrigued her as much as Astarion does.

“Oh? Well, shall I take care of you? Maybe…take you to bed and help you rest up?” Astarion leans forward over Octavia, who starts laying back without thinking about it.

Once the back of her head hits the armrest, she flinches slightly. Astarion chuckles and smirks at her, running his eyes all over her. “Maybe, you'd like me to take care of you here instead?” He slides closer to her, his quick hands already parting her legs for him to slot himself in perfectly.

Octavia blushes and hides her face with her hands, this whole scenario right out of her guilty fantasies. She’s had many nights thinking of this exact situation - Astarion being a vampire excluded, of course.

Octavia sinks into the couch more when she feels Astarion grab her hips and pull her closer. She can feel the very obvious result of him drinking her blood pressing into her. Octavia gasps as he rolls his hips into hers lasciviously, dragging out the groan that slips out of her lips.

Astarion bends and takes her hands away from her face. “Let me hear you, gorgeous. Remember, we're all alone. In your house. Together.” He punctuates each sentence with more painfully slow hip rolls. She gasps and fires off soft little moans with each one.

Astarion then begins to trail soft kisses along her neck, covering every inch of exposed skin. She is melting under him, her impulses becoming harder to keep control of. “Astarion…”

He shivers at the sound of her voice saying his name, then digs his nails into her hip and grinds down on her more.

Octavia can feel him growing more rigid on top of her. The sensation of his arousal makes her body hot and heavy. Her hands find their way to his waist, pulling frantically at his shirt, untucking it from his pants.

Astarion’s hands are usually pretty dexterous but right now he's finding it very fucking difficult to take his damn pants off. Octavia instead begins to unbutton his tight shirt, lingering after each button is popped open.

She’s often imagined how he would look in this state, but the reality is leagues better than anything her imagination could ever come up with. Her eyes travel down, taking in his lithe form. Slim, but with well defined muscles. He looks like one of the statues in the museum, a perfect form sculpted from the most pristine marble.

“Gods, you're marvelous.” Octavia looks up at him through half lidded eyes, and runs her hand up his exposed frame.

“Don't stop on my accord, I like hearing how much you like this..” Astarion smiles, flashing his fangs. If she weren't so aroused, she would probably be a little scared.

He fiddles with her leggings and panties, pulling them down in one fluid motion. Astarion runs his hands down her exposed legs, then grabs her thighs and pulls her into him.

Octavia gasps and grasps at the couch cushion nearest to her. “Holy fuck..” she moans out, arching her back. Astarion begins to unbuckle his belt, getting frustrated at how much his hands are fumbling.

Octavia looks down and reaches towards him. She slaps his hands off his waist and successfully unbuttons his pants. Astarion laughs. “Well, well, you really are impatient.” He begins taking off his shirt slowly, making the fabric languorously fall from his shoulders, off to the side. He clearly enjoys teasing her. “Is this what Gale was hoping for when you brought him home?”

Octavia gasps, remembering the way he looked after she came up from kissing Gale. Astarion’s words had said one thing but his eyes had definitely told her that he was jealous of the turn the night had taken then. “I fucking knew it. You were jealous that I took Gale home that night!” She smirks at him with a cheeky grin as he takes his shirt off and flings it across the room.

“Of course I was jealous, sweet girl.” Astarion crawls back on top of her and drags his lips near her jawline. One of his hands snakes into her hair, exposing her neck to him.

He plants sultry, searing kisses up her jawline until he reaches her ear, whispering in a low tone dripping with pure lust. “I wanted to be the one to take you home. I wanted to unlace that beautiful gown. I wanted to watch it drop to the floor. And of course, I wanted to make you cry my name at the top of your lungs.”

The heat from his words and the image they painted made her legs shake and her heart pound out of her chest. She swallows the moan that wants to come out.

Octavia can feel his hands moving down her sides as he speaks. Each time, he drags himself against her with a sinful roll. Her legs part more as she feels him press harder into her, his very clear erection teasing her. “Oh gods…I- hmmm.”

Her brain short circuits the second she feels his cock roll up against her clit, Octavia’s body quickly becoming Astarion’s plaything.

“Let's get the rest of this pesky clothing out of the way shall we?” His hands move quickly down the buttons holding her loose dress together. She barely has time to process what’s happening before he has his mouth on the swell of her breast, having pulled down her bra.

Octavia shivers as she feels him bite and suck at her nipple, a hiss and inhale falling out of her lips. Her hands find their way towards his waist, running along the throbbing hardness in front of her.

Astarion bucks his hips a bit, pulling his mouth off her to let out a pleased hum. She takes the opportunity to run her hands down him more, feeling him react to her touch.

“You're so beautiful, Astarion. I need you, I want you.”

Astarion looks up, and for a second swears he sees Tav where Octavia had been. Tav’s black hair cascades around her beautiful face, cheeks flushed, lips parted. Her voice sings to his memories, triggering a small flutter in his dead heart.

There's no rational explanation for his mind to wander, so he tries to blink it away. His face falters for a second, but it’s long enough for Octavia to notice. She touches his cheek softly, brushing it with her thumb, and asks, “Astarion? Everything alright?”

Astarion smiles and presses his lips sweetly to hers. “Everything is perfect, sweetheart. I just got distracted by your beautiful form. I can't help but appreciate the goddess under my hands.”

Octavia melts under his praise, none the wiser to his momentary slip. She smiles and caresses his face, a lovestruck lustful look painted on her face. Astarion thanks whatever gods have brought her to him in this moment. He had gotten so used to being alone, though of course he’d had fleeting lovers here and there, but nothing quite as familiar as whatever this is with Octavia.

Astarion pulls her into his cock again, quickly losing his resolve. The lust-filled thoughts that have been plaguing him are rising, becoming much more difficult to contain. He takes her thighs and uses them as leverage as he continues teasing her needy slit.

Octavia can’t help herself from pulling at the waistline of his pants. “Why are you still wearing those? That's a little unfair…I’m practically naked and you're still dressed.”, she coos, pouting a little.

What in the hells? Astarion thinks. That has to be a coincidence. She couldn't have known Tav said that to me once.

Astarion shakes the distraction off and lifts off her. Octavia softly whines and pouts. “Oh don't worry, my little flower,” Astarion croons, “This will only be a small pause in our fun.” He kisses her nose and gets off the couch slowly, dragging himself away from her.

Octavia’s eyes are locked onto his movements. Her breath catches when he pulls off his black slacks. The lines of his muscles follow down from his waist, his cock outlined by the skin-tight boxers he wears. The rest of his clothing is already plenty fitted, but it could never compare to seeing him as he is now.

Octavia gulps, the anticipation torturous. He steps out of the pants pooled on the floor, then closer to Octavia. He kneels in front of her and guides her legs off the edge of the couch. “You might want to be comfortable for this next part.”

Octavia hesitates a bit, quirking her eyebrow. Astarion taps her knee, smirking salaciously at her. “Come now, darling. Don't make me beg.” Octavia scrambles to sit up perfectly straight; she hangs her legs off the couch, pressing her knees together.

Astarion looks up at her with a fire she's never seen before. Slowly trails one of his hands up her leg, inching his way to her knee. Octavia bites her lips, swallowing with a dry throat. Once he reaches her knee, he threads his hand between her legs and starts to spread them.

Octavia gasps and sinks into the couch. Astarion pulls her closer to him as he kisses along the tops of her thighs, making her lay back more. “Holy fuck, Astarion!” Octavia’s arms fly back and grab the backrest of the couch, as she feels him lift one of her legs up and over his shoulder.

“Has anyone ever told you how utterly divine you look when you're flustered?” Astarion kisses the inside of her thigh, dragging his lips down with arduous pecks. “I bet you taste heavenly. I can't wait to devour you and find out.”

With one quick motion, Astarion presses her other leg up to her chest. He dives down and licks a stripe up her soaked folds. “Hmmm, delicious. It's going to be very difficult not to ravage your body, my pet.”

Octavia yelps as Astarion latches onto her mound, licking and sucking on her clit. His tongue coaxes it to stiffen up more for him, sending bolts of pleasure all over. Her back arches, causing her to press into Astarion’s face; he moans into her and she feels as his hand begins to run up and down her slick entrance.

Octavia grips onto the backrest harder, letting out a louder moan. Astarion’s eyes stay locked on her face, his fingers opening her folds and teasing her by guiding two in. She keens more while his free hand is snaking up to her breast, kneading it and pulling on her hardened nipple.

“Ah- Astarion! Fuuuuuck…” Octavia’s desperate cries give Astarion all the incentive he needs to drive his fingers deeper into her, stretching her for him. All he wants to do is bury himself inside her; he could taste her need. Her hands fly down, one grabbing his hand playing with her nipple, and the other tangling itself into his hair.

Octavia’s beautiful moans fill the room as he plays her body like a cherished instrument only his hands can master.

Astarion curls the fingers inside her, feeling her clench around when he does it just right. He gives her clit one last hard suck as he releases his mouth from her. He pumps his hand into her a few times, before withdrawing his fingers as well.

She whines a bit, but quickly sighs contentedly when Astarion licks up her thigh. Octavia’s hand threaded in his hair falls to his shoulder; he grabs it and licks her fingers. Slides two into his own mouth.

“That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen, and if you don't fuck me soon, I might actually die,” Octavia blurts out. Her social filter was already shit, but with this situation it doesn’t exist.

Astarion stifles the laugh at the back of his throat, then slowly removes her fingers and kisses them. “May I suggest a little death instead? You’ll still die in a way, you could say.” He has a giant grin on his face and stands up, releasing his hold on Octavia.

Her eyes travel down to his waist, the fabric of his boxers now incredibly strained. Astarion notices her staring and hums, pleased at her reaction. He slots himself between her open legs and takes her hands, placing them on the last piece of clothing he has on. “Take them off for me, darling.”

Octavia sits up, her bare tits hanging so close for him to reach over and tease them. She hooks her fingers under the waistband and starts pulling down. With each inch of skin she feels her cheeks burn more. As she's nearing the base of his cock, he takes her chin and guides her head up. “Octavia…look at me.”

Octavia looks up at him from below her lashes. The sweetness mixes with lustful desire. She rips his boxers down, leaving his hard cock exposed and weeping with precum. She takes him in her hand and strokes him slowly. Teasing him just like he has her. She licks her lips and then without warning, licks up the length of his cock. Not once breaking eye contact.

Astarion hisses, her tongue feeling so hot and wet against his cold skin. Once she reaches the head, she gives it a little kiss, sucking gently at it. She feels Astarion buck his hips a bit, and the self-satisfaction makes her arousal much stronger.

She wraps her lips around him and bobs her head sloppily along his length. Octavia loses herself in the moment, the sounds he’s making shooting straight to her aching cunt. She feels so dirty for wanting this so desperately. Touching herself to thoughts of him could never measure up to reality.

Octavia feels one of his hands snake itself into her hair, his thumb caressing the nape of her neck. She continues to suck him down until he hits the back of her throat. Little tears build up at the waterline of her eyes, her brows turning up from the sheer delight she's receiving. When Astarion shudders and pulls her hair, Octavia moans, loving the pinpricks shooting through her scalp.

Astarion is losing his mind; he hasn't felt so fervently wanted for decades. He cradles her chin and guides her off him. His breath is frayed and uneven. She smiles and strokes him more. “What? You sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

Astarion inhales deeply, allowing her to feel like she has the advantage for a moment. “I am, my sweet, but I'd rather enjoy the rest of you.” He guides her up, laying her down on the length of the couch. He crawls on top of her, placing his hand on her chest, and drags his fingers down her torso.

Octavia shivers at the coolness from his touch. She exhales, releasing the air in her lungs. Astarion’s hand slides further down her stomach, ghosting his hand over her closed thighs. “May I?”

Octavia giggles.“Asking permission to come in? I thought I had to invite you?” She smirks and keeps her legs shut.

Astarion huffs and pulls her legs closer. “I know you're not going to be a brat with a dangerous monster of the night that could kill you in your sleep, currently pinning you down in their arms, tangled in their lap?” He takes the hand that had traced her body and runs it down the center of her legs, spreading them apart.

“I was mostly asking because I like knowing that the things I'm about to do to you are very much wanted.” Astarion grinds himself onto her slick folds. “Tell me, beautiful. Tell me you want me as much as I want you.” He keeps toying her clit. Circling around and winding her up.

“Yes, yes, yes, yessss!!! I want you, so badly! Gods, I've wanted you since I saw you at the party.” Octavia’s composure is fully lost. She’s under his spell and she hopes it never breaks.

He pulls her legs up, holding her thighs, rubbing himself along her wet slit. Octavia shudders and lets out a deep groan; he feels so good against her. She claws at the cushions under her as his hips send more waves of pleasure all over her body.

Astarion bucks wildly in between her thighs, the plush folds of her wet cunt slicking up both their bodies. “I bet you've thought of this…” He spreads her legs, dropping one at his side. He leaves the other planted on his chest as he uses his body’s weight to press down on her more. His throbbing cock presses against her, teasing at sliding inside. “..because I certainly have.”

Octavia whines, the blood she’d lost making her feel lightheaded, but the way he's pleasing her makes the feeling more like floating. “Have you?” Her voice is low, the drunk feeling taking over her words. He feels her hips twitch a bit as another soft moan escapes her mouth.

“You. Have. No. Idea.” He slides up and down her dripping entrance as he punctuates every movement with a word, grazing her clit each time. Her body bucks along with his, trying to get that sweet spot of friction. Octavia can feel her legs trembling and turning into jelly. “Gods, you're positively drenched for me, such a sweet girl.”

Astarion holds her hips tight as he lines himself up with her pussy. Octavia instinctively relaxes, her hips wiggling in anticipation. “Do it. Fuck me, Astarion.”

He pulls her into his lap by her ass. “Ooh I like that, wonder what other filthy things I can get you to say. But for now, since you asked so nicely…”

Octavia feels the delicious pressure between her legs as he guides himself into her, agonizingly slow. The synapses in her brain keep firing with each inch he sinks in. She shakes a bit, feeling his entire length settle inside. He leans forward and kisses along her jaw, sliding his cock out of her slowly before slamming in hard. He does this a couple of times before slowing down and building her back up.

Octavia winces a bit, the little jabs of pain she feels coming from his thrusts quickly turning into searing blades of pleasure traveling up her body. She almost moans into his ear. “Fuck, s- Star…oh yes…”

Octavia’s body tenses up underneath him, his possessive hunger driving her mad. He could leave her bloodied and bruised and she wouldn't care, the feeling of ecstasy overpowering anything else. The more he thrusts into her, the hotter and more intense the little pants and moans that spill out of her lips for him.

He runs his hand in between her legs and plays with her stiff clit, the little bundle of nerves making her sing for him. Her moans are making him harder inside her; she feels like she can't hold on much longer. Octavia sees Astarion sucking the skin of her shoulder, grazing his fangs on the highest point.

Octavia can feel her orgasm getting closer. She reaches up to his hair again and pulls it hard. He winces and growls into her neck. The way she’s tightening around him is divine, her flutters around his cock driving him closer to the edge himself.

Astarion pulls her close, he bends and whispers in her ear as he feels her fluttering around him. “I've been waiting so long for you, give yourself to me, Octavia. Let me feel you coming undone for me.”

Astarion bends Octavia’s legs, making her knees touch under her breasts, making him sink even deeper inside. She feels magnificent. His gasps and moans push her over the threshold and she begins to spasm around him “Oh fuck fuck fuuuck.” Her hands cradle his face as he presses his forehead to hers. She closes the gap between them and kisses him sloppily as she comes.

He keeps going, chasing his own high. Octavia can feel him swelling even more inside, her body becoming quickly overstimulated. He fucks her into the couch, rough and quick, digging his nails deep into her hip. She can feel herself building up again. Keening and squealing at the way he’s using her makes her feel absolutely filthy in the best way.

Octavia's practically screaming as he fills her up, his hips stuttering against her, breathing heavily into her shoulder as he comes inside her. Her legs finally go slack and fall at each side of his waist.

Their bodies give out from the adrenaline and lust finally subsiding. He lays on Octavia’s chest, feeling her heart thundering under his ear. The room feels alive with the sounds of their heavy breaths. They stay in each other's arms for a bit, before Octavia shifts.

“My legs are falling asleep.” Her voice sounds slightly strained; she's still a little woozy from him feeding on her. Astarion lets go and lifts off her, then sits back on the couch and slips his pants back on. He covers Octavia with the blanket and drapes her legs over his lap, rubbing them to help with the tingles running through.

Octavia stares at the ceiling, mind completely undone. Astarion tells her he's a vampire one minute, the next he's buried balls deep inside her in front of her fireplace.

This was definitely not the way she had thought things would go. Not unwelcome, but they are absolutely going to have to talk about this. Later, though. Right now she can't fight the urge to let her eyes close, the warmth of the fire and the blanket both cradling her.

Astarion rubs small circles into her leg as a small smile grows on his face. Whatever pulls her to him is a mystery, but what a glorious gift it is. He lays his head back against the cushion and grins, closing his eyes.

A pleasant dilemma indeed.

Tag list:

@justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #gale of waterdeep #fic: memories of us

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slutforsilverfoxes · 6 months

Text

Letters From the Sky

[A/N: Bruv I so rarely write angst because I am a weakling and it makes me Big Sad, but this has been floating around in my drafts and I just binge watched a bunch of NCIS episodes that made me cry so 🤲🏽 a ficlet for u, here u go. It's not really the saddest ending so there's that, at least? I hope? I sorry] Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x wife!reader TW: references to funerals/loss, implied character death

__________

Settling down on the couch in your living room, you tuck your knees underneath one of your husband’s old USMC hoodies and create a makeshift table out of your lap. Writing a letter can help you deal with your emotions, help you move on with life, your mother had advised, and so here you were, pen in hand, staring at the blank piece of paper before you. Hi, I love you and I miss you didn’t quite cut it. And were you supposed to keep adding to the letter daily, filling him in on your life? Was time passing differently for him? How long would it be until you heard his voice again? Could you ask your friend for her thoughts, or would your questions bring up too many bad memories? Head growing fuzzy and eyes growing watery from your endless stream of questions with no answers in sight, you opted to just start writing. Foregoing a greeting, figuring your husband would know exactly who this was from, you let out a deep breath and put pen to paper.

Funerals are such a funny thing, aren’t they, Jethro? The many faces from your past and present gathered around to celebrate life, lament loss, and say things aloud that they should’ve said to the person who needed to hear it most.

I miss you more than I could ever put into words. It was so strange being there today without you. How many of those solemn events did we attend together throughout the years? Family, friends, colleagues… Too many to count, and most of them senseless losses.

I don’t know how to keep going without you by my side, but it’s been such a blessing to be surrounded by your loved ones. We’ve been trading so many wonderful memories, stories about your fearless feats, your never-ending pursuit of justice, your stubborn nature, your devotion to those lucky enough to know you. I even met one of your former lovers after the funeral, and honey, let me tell you, we got to gossiping. Turns out you’re a regular Casanova, huh? It’s those steel blue eyes that keep you coming back for more, I swear.

I like to think that, even though we’re physically apart now, you can still hear me. After all, you always did say that about my optimism- “from your mouth to God’s ears, sweetheart”. Do you think, if I yelled loud enough, I could get a message delivered to you?

This big house feels even bigger without you. I guess I can think about it like those cases that would last for days, where I wouldn’t even get a glimpse of you until your perp was behind bars, but we both know it’s not quite the same. At least I can raid your closet without hearing you grumble about your favorite hoodies going missing- silver linings, my darling Jethro. I’m not sure how long they’ll keep smelling like you, but I’m determined not to wash them, just in case… My secret’s safe with you, right?

Speaking of secrets (more like hidden gems), I found a stash of Kelly’s artwork upstairs and I’ve started adding her drawings to the gallery of photos on the walls. I know I made some changes after we got married, but the sheer lack of decor when I moved in still astounds me. You’re such a man, she said lovingly.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that

The sound of the front door opening alerts you to your friend’s return, and you hurry to jot down your last few thoughts.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that your girls are all together in this big house of yours :) Hopefully, we’ll see you soon.

P.S. Not too soon. I know I call you my old man, but you’re not that old- yet.

Gibbs puts his truck in park on the driveway, returning home after another day added to the list of longest days of his life. He sits in the cab for a few prolonged minutes, trying to muster up the courage to enter your big house that feels even bigger now.

When he finally trudges up the walkway, he pauses with his hand on the doorknob and releases a heavy sigh before pushing the door open. And then, for just a split second, he swears he hears you calling his daughter’s name and her answering giggle overlapping with her mother’s voice.

The moment is fleeting, and no matter how hard he strains, he can’t conjure up the sound again. But the house feels warmer, lighter somehow.

And he smiles.

—————

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24

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passivenovember · 1 year

Text

wait until you taste me

Max says the dumbest shit in the world.

Billy forces himself, tooth and nail, to give the grace he never got to touch with his own two hands. She’s a teenager. She’s dumb and her nature is rose-colored. Heart-shaped fillers slipped covertly in that delicate space behind a splash of blue.

Her head is filled with hot air. Good intentions. Speckled with delusions that are charming when she’s not so reckless, and.

Billy doesn’t want to smash her hopes on ground in front of her.

Life will, eventually.

Life always does, but. Billy figures he could try and be the storm wall that protects her garden of wonder.

He gets over that real quick when she can’t do the same in return.

When she bats her eyelashes and says, “I’m glad you and Steve are friends, now,” at Sunday dinner the week before Spring Break.

In front of everyone.

Billy thinks her head is the size of the Hindenburg. She’s full of helium and she’s flying too close to the sun.

Neil tucks a wad of flavorless peas into his mouth. “Who’s Steve?” He asks.

And immediately, Billy’s walls shoot like salt pillars from the ground.

He weighs his options. What would happen if he got up from this table and ran? If he tucked Steve Harrington and his name and his reputation and his memory into a plastic bag and disappeared.

Billy’s got delusions of his own.

He’s full of quilted daydreams, stitched from every moment Steve has ever looked, smiled, laughed at one of Billy’s jokes. The thread is golden, the color of every late-night promise to drive Billy across county lines.

Billy’s delusions are plushy-soft comfort he’s not ready to bring out of the closet.

So he takes a sip of water. “Steve,” Billy says. “He’s. Steve Harrington.”

Neil leans forward. “Harrington?”

“Yes sir,” Billy wills his voice not to crack.

He’s reluctant to spoil this part of his exile. To call the hounds in, bloodthirsty, to trample and tear the thing he’s clutching like a spot of gold to his chest. He digs his heel into Max’s foot under the table and wishes he wasn’t in his Saturday lounge-around clothes. He yearns for his boots, to break a bone. Eye for an eye, to somehow cancel the marrow that’ll splinter in his face when Neil finds out the truth.

“Good family,” Neil says. Every syllable lands like crystalized hail. They clink and roll and clatter all around the dining room. “Might be a good influence.”

“He is good,” Max says happily. She kicks back. It stings. “Billy and him–”

“He and Billy,” Susan chimes, and Billy thinks how ironic that Susan would choose now to become a real person when she’s usually set dressing.

Reanimation, just to fire a canon and contribute to the sinking of Billy’s battleship.

Billy dabs his mouth with a wadded-up paper towel. “May I be excused?”

Neil’s eyes snap to, and for a single, terrifying moment, Billy thinks he remembers. Carlos. The Pier. California. He wasn’t too drunk, he wasn’t irate, he remembers–

But Neil. He nods, brows knitted with faux worry. “Everything alright, son?”

He only lives up to Billy’s expectation of him when it’s deserved. When Billy’s done something besides breathe, one inhale after the next.

“Just tired,” Billy says. Wonders what would happen if he ran.

–

Max says the dumbest shit in the world.

She’s a chick. She’s a girl with an attitude the size of Missouri and a tongue that can pierce the skin, and that’s where their similarities end, careening over the mouth of a cliff into nothingness.

Billy learns early on that if he wants any peace at all he’d better tune her out just short of plugging his ears with cotton and bloody fingertips and dynamite, so when the wailing reaches a fever pitch he can blow his head off and float far away from here.

Sometimes, though, Max’s scowl will clear and it’s like the Oracle is speaking through her.

You know, this garbage disposal noise you call music actually rocks. Or, I’ve been thinking about piercing one of my ears. It looks cool on you, I guess. And, when Billy needs to hear it most, your dad’s such an asshole.

She’s a wrecking-ball with no awareness of her swing.

And when she speaks, it’s not the same as I understand.

It’s not, I look at Neil, I see the way he wishes you were dead and I get it, now. Why you’ve always got a lit match in your palm, ready to burn the world to the ground.

When Billy least expects it, Max’s words are daybreak. Filled with light so blinding Billy's a bug under a microscope, slowly catching fire.

Two days before spring, Max slams out of her bedroom while Billy’s working on his bench press.

He hardly notices.

He’s floating, a little. Like a balloon. He’s listening to the new Tears for Fears album because Steve’s obsessed with it, and he’s pretty when he’s excited, and Billy’s a sucker for the plush, wide-lipped smiles that drip like gold from Steve’s face. “They’re good, Bills. They’re like if Halloween and Valentine's day had a baby.”

Billy’s stuck in a ground-hog day memory of the way Steve’s hair flopped into his eyes when he promised, “They’re like us.”

And.

Billy’s not paying attention. He’s at least twenty shoulder-presses in, he’s smiling, he doesn’t really notice when Max’s heavy, sock-feet steps don’t carry on through the living room, and that’s his first mistake.

Before Billy knows what’s happening, Max looms over him.

He feels, like the distant brush of a spiderweb on his back, Max glaring. Searching his face.

But Billy’s a ship lost in a sea of brown eyes.

He almost can’t find it within himself to be pissed that he can smell the peanut butter on her breath, almost, but then Max says, “You know Steve wants to kiss you, right?”

And Billy sits up so fast that he almost knocks himself out on the barbell.

“Woah, you’re bleeding,” Max steadies him, brows pinched with concern. “Are you–”

“You can’t say shit like that.”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

Immediately, something warm starts to trickle over the right side of his face. “Shit,” He says, at the same time Max howls, “Oh, god, you’re bleeding–”

“What the fuck did you think would happen?” Billy tries not to move his head too much. He grips the edge of the bench until the leather splits like canyons until he’s sure the pads of his fingers will separate, too.

“I’m sorry,” Max babbles, “I didn’t mean to–”

The house is silent.

Beyond the throbbing in his skull and past the strangled, nervous way Max is breathing while she waits for him to strangle her to death, there’s nothing.

All of Hawkins might as well be gone. Deleted from the page like a bad line of poetry. Billy wonders what would happen if the drapes parted from the window. Would anything stare back at him? Streets and mailboxes and cloud-covered skies. Would the black cosmos would press hard against the glass, would their refuge of plaster and slate would crumble under the weight of the universe–

“They’re not home,” Max says. Every space monster to his roost.

Billy nods, wincing at the pain that fries and curdles behind his right eyebrow.

Max steadies him. “Shit, do you need some ice?”

“Don’t need ice, I need a rag,” Billy says, “And a beer.”

“You don’t need a beer.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” Max tells him, arms crossed. “If you have a concussion the last thing you want to do is get drunk–”

“I’m not gonna get drunk off one beer, shitstain.”

“Billy.”

“Max,” Billy snarls, working to push his voice fifteen octaves higher until they sound exactly the same.

Max lopes furiously down the hall, returning a second later with crisp, beaded PBR in one hand and a wet rag in the other. Billy dabs his brow with the scratchy fabric, knowing Neil will reem him later for getting blood all over Susan’s good cloth.

Billy can’t think about that, now.

He reaches for the PBR and Max tugs it out of reach.

“Max–”

“I’m just. In biology, we’ve been reading about fetal alcohol syndrome.”

Billy feels like he got pushed in front of a train and whacked his temple on a railroad spike. “I’m not a fetus.”

“No, but our bodies are still developing,” Max says, like Billy’s an idiot. He’s thick and dumb and ridiculous for not paying attention in eighth-grade science class and knowing that the legal drinking age is twenty-one for a reason.

Billy doesn’t give a damn about that. “You made me split my brow, dipshit.”

“That’s not really my fault,” Max bargains. “I was just saying that Steve–”

Billy yanks the beer from Max’s hands. “Shut up,” He insists, nails burrowing under the pop-top, but just as Billy’s about to crack the seal and give himself over to the only thing in the world that would soothe his agony, Max is on him.

“I’m worried about your brain,” She says, just short of tackling him off the bench, and.

Well.

She hollers. When she’s keeping secrets. When she’s trying to get her way. And Billy squints his eyes, ready to reiterate she has nothing to worry her stupid redhead over and it’s not really her place to worry about him, anyhow–

“You might have a concussion.”

“And you might have a death wish.”

“What’s it taste like, anyway,” Max wonders. “If it’s so good. It looks like root beer.”

“It tastes like piss.”

“Why do you drink it so mu–” When Billy glares, sharper than a new glade, Max bristles like a porcupine, “Look, I’m sorry I scared you–”

“You didn’t scare me,” Billy snaps. Spiders scare him, locked jaws and missed curfews and slashed tires scare him. Not little red-headed stepsisters who can’t mind their fucking business.

Billy wants to throw the PBR at her.

Steve scares him. Steve–

Billy presses the can to his eyebrow, instead, hissing through his teeth at the feeling.

Max’s shoulders drop, “Thanks for not drinking it,” She mutters, and it’s so sincere, so steeped in the sisterly worry Neil’s always preaching about, that Billy can’t swallow the question that bubbles up his throat like strawberry perfume.

He has to know, “Why do you think Steve wants–”

“Whenever he watches you talk he always gets that look on his face.”

“What face?”

Max’s sneakers sing on the hardwood, dragging like nails against the chalkboard in Billy’s mind that’s been scrubbed clean and scribbled with Steve’s name, over and over and over again. “The blank one. You know, like when boys are about to kiss you and every thought flies out of their head like–”

“How do you know what that face looks like,” Billy demands, stomach turning over on itself when her freckles burn away in shades of red.

“Lucas–”

“God, that’s sick.”

“Don’t be an asshole. Just because Steve’s a loser and you’re a raging dickhole with a face only a mother could love–”

Billy winces, his molars grinding. It has nothing to do with the pain. Nothing to do with split brows and annoying sisters. “You’re one to talk, I can’t even look at you without wanting to Ralph.”

Max rolls her eyes. Deflates. “Sorry,” She says, soft and small, and.

She’s eyeing the PBR. Neil would kill Billy if he ever found out, but.

Billy cracks the beer and hands it to her. “Get lost before my head stops swimming.”

–

Steve’s fridge has the warmest light Billy’s ever seen, but maybe Billy’s just high.

The glow cuts him from marble. He’s the work of artists long dead, the picture of beauty. Billy sways against the kitchen sink, feeling very much like he could fall asleep to the soft harmony of ketchup bottles and pickle jars making a grab for the fairytale prince.

It’s Friday. Just before spring break. They’re staring down a two-week barrel of nothing but lazy mornings and hazy midnights and each other.

Miles and miles of nothing but this.

Billy’s excited. He could live forever in this moment, and the thought bubbles laughter out of him, surprised and happy.

Steve looks at him, startled out of thought. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

Steve smirks, and. His nose is perfect in the refrigerator light. Billy never noticed before. He re-shelves a jar of olives, the fancy cheese-stuffed kind, and tugs a hand through his hair. “What are you even hungry for?”

“Whatever you want,” Billy chews on his thumbnail, stomach churning.

“Nothing sounds good. I don’t think I’ve got food in here, anyway.”

Billy watches him open a bag of sliced cheese. Is so warm and content he could fall asleep next to the bread box. “What do you call that?”

“Not food.”

“It’s food.”

“It’s ingredients, that’s not the same thing,” Steve pulls a slice from the bag, folding it a million times until it splits evenly down the middle.

“It’s food, Harrington, it’s a whole meal,” Billy smiles in spite of himself when Steve nibbles on one half and holds the other, grinning, out in front of him. “No, I’m not–”

“Don’t even try it, Hargrove, I know you get the munchies when you’re stoned,” Steve wiggles the cheese at him, eyes big and brown and as expectant as they are beautiful, so.

Billy pops the cheese slice and eats it without tasting anything.

Steve watches him, unblinking, “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s cheese.”

“Yeah, but you’re not full, right? Because there’s only more of that if we stay here.”

“Where else would we go?” Billy frowns, not getting it. The cheese is better than the single-packaged shit Susan gets from Melvalds. It’s smoky, and aged, and Billy could polish the whole bag if he wasn’t worried about the cheese farts.

Steve fiddles with the corner of the bag, avoiding Billy’s eyes, “We could go out–”

“Close the fridge. You’re letting all the cool air out and now our dinner is gonna spoil.”

“Our dinner is not a bag of cheese,” Steve grumbles, but he hip-checks the door, collapsing onto his elbows in front of the paper towel dispenser. He tugs at his hair until it looks like it hurts, until his sprouting laugh lines disappear, and Billy hates it.

He wants them back.

He swims through the fog, trying to think of something funny to make Steve smile, but Harrington’s already pushing away from the counter, frown deep-set. “Why don’t you ever wanna eat anything when you’re here?” He demands.

And Billy can’t say that it’s the fault of his kid sister. That her insane, paranoid ramblings about love and blank expressions have gotten under his skin, and now everything Steve does feels like the start of something else.

Billy can’t admit that he wants it to be something else, so. “I eat popcorn sometimes.”

“I’m not talking about snacks, I mean real food,” Steve says. He studies Billy’s face, “Do you get your energy through photosynthesis or something?”

Billy laughs, loud and sudden. “No, I just–”

“I could cook for you.” Billy almost brains it on the spotlessly tiled floor because Steve’s eyes get bigger, somehow. Sparkling with earnestness. Steve shuffles, hands on his hips. “I want to cook for you,” He says, like it means something else entirely.

And whatever it is. Billy can’t handle that.

He bristles, says, “I don’t feel comfortable eating anything that costs more than the house Max and I live in,” Hoping it’ll sink the lifeline Steve’s trying to throw him.

“It’s just organic shopping,” Steve shoots back.

Which. “Huh?”

“It’s got like, less sugar. And preservatives, or something,” Steve shrugs, tongue darting pink and swift across his cupid’s bow. “My mom does the shopping when she’s home.”

Billy frowns. “Well, I’m not eating half of your mom’s paycheck. What will you eat?”

“You know, making dinner for you means I’ll get some, too,” Steve says. A smile tugs lazily at the corners of his perfect, clever mouth, and Billy is swallowed by anticipation.

There’s nothing he loves more in the entire world, probably, than seeing the subtle birth of each smile. The way Steve paints them on as if he were writing secret letters addressed to Billy, slipping them between the folds of conversation so Billy is surprised whenever they unfurl and bloom like tulips in the springtime.

Steve’s eyes hunt over his face, “You’re sure you’re not a plant? A sunflower?” Steve asks. He scoots close, fingers reaching to tilt Billy’s head toward the kitchen light, “Look like one to me,” He says, and.

Out of nowhere, his face goes carefully blank. His eyes land somewhere and stick, like the spindly legs of a fly to trapping paper.

Steve is watching Billy’s mouth.

He’s leaning forward, he’s–

Somewhere, in the back of Billy’s mind, Maxine bangs on a door labeled No Admittance, hollering about the way boys look when they want to kiss you.

It scares Billy, how much he wants it.

How much it would kill him if it never happens.

“I’m not a fucking plant,” Billy says, shrugging away. He stares wildly around the kitchen, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. “This kitchen is disgusting.”

Steve watches him, quietly amused as Billy pretends to find something on the counter to scrub.

Billy works a damp paper towel over every inch of the counter, putting an island between them so Steve doesn’t have the chance to swoop close. Get his hands on Billy’s face.

Those fingertips would send sparks flying.

Billy would char and burn and bubble over, so.

Steve watches him for a quiet moment and Billy avoids his eyes, terrified of what he’ll find when he has to stop scrubbing the counter. “What are you doing?”

Eventually, the marble will come away on the paper towel. “Cleaning,” Billy says. “If we’re going to eat a bag of cheese in here, it’s gotta be spotless.”

“Wanna go to Benny’s?” Steve asks.

Billy stares at him, then, stomach growling on command.

Steve’s answering smile is brighter than the harvest sun. Billy could sprout into fields of marigolds, he could be picked and kept forever in a vase on the fireplace mantle. “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve gotta clean up after me,” Steve tells him.

Guilt, sharp and swift, pangs in Billy’s stomach. He wants to insist that it’s no bother. That he’s used to cleaning up after Max and sweeping away the delicate bits of himself that clatter to the ground. And even if there were fruit punch stains all over the marble, the remnants of Steve living everyday in this house, Billy wouldn’t mind cleaning up after him.

Billy wouldn’t mind taking care of him.

Steve shuffles around the island, smile sheepish and cute. “C’mon, we can have pancakes.”

“I want chicken strips.”

“Alright.”

“And a double chocolate rootbeer float with ranch–”

“For your ice cream?” Steve teases, “That’s disgusting.”

“For my fries, asshole,” Billy shoves him playfully, “Do you want to feed me dinner or not?”

Steve rocks away and lands closer, cheeks red like strawberry ice cream, “I want to do a lot of things for you,” He admits quietly, and.

That face is back again.

Billy wants to pull away, but he’s caught. Steve catches him, hook and line, says, “Billy–”

And Steve kisses like he’s never done it before, but has always wanted to try. Like he’s been waiting his whole life and every one before that for Billy. For this moment. High spring nights and empty stomachs and yearning, soft as fresh soil.

His fingers thread into the curls at the base of Billy’s skull.

Their knees bump together, Billy grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders to stop from falling back against the trash can.

The kiss opens up.

Gets sloppy and good and Billy could live here forever. His lips could swell and melt into Steve’s and it would be perfect.

Steve pulls away, but he stays close. Their lips brush on every desperate breath. “Sorry my kitchen is disusting,” He says.

Billy can’t think straight. “I’ll clean it for you.”

“Let’s stay in,” Steve says. He kisses Billy’s jaw and both eyelids, licking slowing into his mouth.

Billy throws the paper towel in the garbage can.

For the first time in his life, he’s full.

For an anonymous donor! I hope you enjoyed this drabble :)

#harringrove #harringrove for turkey #fluff

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zellink · 3 months

Text

all the bells say

a pre-calamity zelink longfic. [chapter 1 of 28 // Act 0 of 5]

>> Read Act 0: "Genesis / Heavy" on AO3

Summary:

Rating: M Main Tags: canon compliant / angst with a happy ending / character study / romance / slow burn / all the goddamn tension. / mutual pining / self-doubt / following all the botw memories / Zelda is an unreliable narrator / Link is so hopelessly in love (until it's not) What will you do with what you've been given when the story forever tolls the same way? Link and Zelda, the Calamity, and their tale of inevitability and doom, and most of all, of love.

Notes:

Here I am, 7 years late to the party, 3 years after witnessing my boyfriend first play BOTW, with a Starbucks in hand and yet another pre-Calamity long fic that absolutely nobody asked for. But I have to do it. I have to bounce these two blonde elves in my head indefinitely and breathe life into my many, many headcanons.

All my love and thanks to my trench buddy and writing soulmate @1up-girl for all your invaluable beta'ing, brainrotting, and everything in between—I seriously owe you forever and ever. Thousands of thanks to the lovely @mustardcheesedog for your amazing energy and hype as an early reader and the daily zelink brainrot.

I also wanna to thank @milkywayes for doing the beautiful banner art for Bells; for understanding my vision and for all the conversations we've had about zelink—headcanons concocted in our DMs that I eventually adopted into this fic.

Fic title taken from the famous John Berryman poem, "Dream Song 29".

~~~ Please go to the fic page on AO3 and read the extended author's note in the beginning for warnings! ~~~

Anyway..... here's Act 0, y'all!

Act 0: Genesis / Heavy

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart só heavy, if he had a hundred years & more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time Henry could not make good. […] Ghastly, with open eyes, he attends, blind. All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears; thinking. “Dream Song 29” - John Berryman

Link is no stranger to death.

At five years old, he’s already witnessed more than his peers ever would. Growing up at a farm can do that to a kid. Cows, lambs, cuccos—all to the slaughter for sustenance, for profit. He stations himself beside Father and Mother as they butcher them to sell at the family shop. He’s also seen Father shoot countless deers and elk during their leisure hunts whenever Father is back home from Castle Town. More often than not, Father would let him borrow his old bow, and Link would contribute to their hunt, too.

But then Link’s pet fish dies one afternoon—a fat white freshwater carp with gold and black splotches he named Goldie—and he weeps and weeps in Mother’s lap. Goldie was his friend. Goldie was always there in the morning when he would wake up, and was there at night before he’d go to bed. But now Goldie is floating in the pond, its tiny mouth agape.

Mother strokes his hair. “It’s okay, Link. Goldie is with the Goddess, now.”

“Can I be with the Goddess, too?” he asks. Snot runs down his nose.

“Well, no.” Mother huffs a laugh. “Where Goldie is… we cannot go there. But what you can do is pray.”

Link withdraws his head from Mother’s lap. He wipes the tears from his face with the heel of his palms.

“Can we pray together, Mom?”

At that, something unreadable passes through Mother’s face. Her blue eyes turn steely.

“You can pray, Link,” she says, something sad about her small smile. “I won’t join. But we can arrange a funeral for Goldie, if you would like that?”

So they spend the rest of the day gathering flowers from the brambles that surround their estate until Mother’s wicker basket is full of white roses, blue nightshades, and armoranths. Mother also allows him to use the small wooden box that sits atop her vanity—a coffin perfect for Goldie. Mother says that it’s a box that used to house a necklace she bought and gave to Father long ago, but that necklace is long lost, so she has no use for it now.

Link wraps Goldie in an old rag and lays it gently inside the box. Then, they dig a hole in their backyard and bury the box and Goldie in it. He cries again, but not as hard as earlier. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, shuts his eyes, and utters his prayers aloud.

“Goddess Hylia, please welcome Goldie in your loving arms, give it many, many worms to eat, and bring it back as a strong and healthy fish in its next life.” Let its next life start tomorrow, please, Link does not say aloud.

When they make it back inside the living room, Father is already there, sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee. He asks about what they have been up to, and Link answers honestly. Father doesn’t press on, and he looks rather exhausted, so Link goes back into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

He climbs into his bed and crawls toward the far end of the wall, looking out from the window and into the backyard. He sees it—a small grave by the shrubs, complete with a rock roughly the shape of an oval as the tombstone, with flowers surrounding the little plot of land.

He hears voices from beyond his bedroom door.

“I don’t think it is best for us to go soft on him.”

“Wha— soft? He is five and his pet just died!”

“And you helped him throw a funeral. For a fish.”

“Because he’s just a child!”

There’s a grating sound—a chair being dragged on the floor. “Well, he’s always said that he wants to become a knight. Then we must prepare him for such an occupation.”

“Being a knight does not mean he can’t feel emotions.”

“Eleana, being a knight is not easy. He will see hundreds of deaths in his lifetime. The next death he’ll witness won’t be of a fish, but of a comrade. I just want to prepare him for when he eventually becomes one.”

“Well—” a pause, “—then I hope, for Link’s sake, he never becomes one.”

Link, however, doesn’t pay much attention to his parents’ conversation. Instead, he imagines Goldie wiggling its way past the layers of cloth and wood and soil, flopping around the backyard until it finds its way to the pond again. Once everybody is asleep Goldie will rise up from its grave, he thinks. He prayed to the Goddess, after all.

But come morning, the pond is still empty, and Goldie remains lifeless in its little coffin.

And he never sheds another tear after that.

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

Link is no stranger to death, and no stranger to funerals, either.

A year after Goldie’s humble funeral in his backyard in Hateno Village, Father must attend one of the most important funerals in the kingdom for as long as Link can remember.

(Well, six years is quite long for him, anyway.)

So here he is, holding Mother’s gloved hand, in the congregation at the Grand Chapel of Hyrule Castle. It’s a sad occasion, of course—everyone’s wearing black, all the women have their faces obscured with a veil, and he can hear sniffles from the crowd. But Link also can’t wait to tell his friends back home of his first real experience in the castle.

There are speeches, sermons, hymns, and many, many other long-drawn-out processions that he has no choice but to zone out on. But once the burial is over, Link is rather excited, because the Royal Guards (and by extension, Father) must accompany the Prince Consort to the Sanctum for an intimate reception.

The Sanctum is grand—big, luxurious, grand. Red velvet is draped everywhere—the thrones, the floor, the curtains, the banners. There’s also a lot of gold, and streaks of blue here and there. Link likes the blue the most.

When Father makes his way through the crowd to find Link and Mother, Link knows it’s time. He straightens his back, draws his chin a little bit higher, and follows Father.

“This is pretty exciting, right, Mom?” Link whispers. “Meeting the Prince!”

“The King,” Father corrects him. “He was the Prince, and now, without the Queen, he has become the King.” He sounds annoyed. “Please don’t make that mistake in front of His Majesty.”

Link clears his throat. “Sorry, Father.”

He gazes up at Mother again, but she’s quiet, and it’s hard to look past her veil.

They climb the grand marble staircase leading to the floating dais above the room, and find a large man standing in front of the throne.

Father and Mother immediately drop to their knees. Link follows suit.

“Your Majesty,” Father says, his head bowed.

“Sir William! Please, no need for this,” the King’s voice booms. Father rises, followed by Mother, and then Link. “I am very pleased to see you again, Lady Eleana. It’s been too long.” The King sounds friendly, but there’s a lot of sadness at the edge of his voice. That makes sense, Link thinks. He just lost his wife.

Then, the King sets his eyes on Link.

Link’s hands feel clammy, all of a sudden.

“And you, young boy—how you have grown! It was not that long ago when your father brought you as an infant to the Castle to celebrate my daughter’s birth,” he says. Link can only muster up a nod and a shaky smile. “Speaking of—” the King turns around to shoo something from his back. “Don’t just hide! Introduce yourself.”

From behind the King’s robe, a little girl emerges, clad in a black dress and a black surcoat. Her face, however, isn’t covered with a veil like the other women, and the first thing Link notices is how golden her hair is compared to the rest of her outfit. It’s almost blinding.

The second thing Link notices is how green her eyes are. Very green. Like grass, like trees. Like the forests that he likes to spend time in.

The girl extends a gloved hand. Palm facing down.

“I’m Princess Zelda,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

Link takes her hand in a gentlemanly way that Father has taught him when greeting noblewomen. His thumb pad rests on her knuckles. His left hand rises to splay over his right breast. Then, he puts one foot in front of the other and bends his knees, bowing his head.

“Nice to meet you, Princess,” he says. “My name is Link.”

As he straightens up again, Link finds it hard to let go of her hand. The Princess doesn’t, either; her forest green gaze is still piercing through his eyes. It feels like vines are growing out of his wrist and twining around his hand and the Princess’.

“Hello, Link,” she says.

Oh, his heart is racing.

Father lets out a cough, and the vines vanish. Link withdraws his hand as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. The Princess lets her arm fall limp at her side once more, but her eyes are still on him. Mother grabs him by his shoulders, pulling him back to stand next to her again.

“Your Majesty, once again, Eleana, Link, and I would like to offer our deepest condolences for your loss,” Father says. “For this kingdom’s loss. The Queen is—was—a strong and wise monarch, and as a people, we shall mourn her absence forevermore.” His lips are trembling a little, Link notes. He’s never seen that on Father before.

“Thank you, Sir William,” the King says. “You were a steadfast presence in her life, truly.” At that, Mother’s grip tightens. Link tilts his head up to look at her, but is met with that layer of veil again. “Well, I must be on my way. Duty calls upon us all, after all.”

With one last bow from Father, Mother, and Link himself, the King makes his way toward the other end of the dais and descends the opposite staircase. The Princess follows, her back straight and steps never once faltering.

She doesn’t turn back to cast one last glance at his family, but Link watches and watches and watches. He’s still watching as she disappears beneath the grand archway that leads further into the castle.

On the walk back to Castle Town where Father resides, Link feels something heavy settling in his gut. Like his little inconsequential life makes sense, all of a sudden. Like being six years old doesn’t really matter because, in that moment, he feels like there are hundreds of ancient men residing within the confines of his bones. And all those men are whispering the same name over and over.

The name he heard just a half hour ago.

So he speaks up.

“Father, I think I’m ready to really train,” he says. “I really wanna be in the Royal Guard.”

Father laughs.

Mother, beneath her black veil, stays quiet.

>> Continue reading on AO3

#my fic #zelink #zelink fic #breath of the wild #botw #botw fic #tloz #the legend of zelda #ao3 fanfic #bells tag

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hbyrde36 · 17 days

Text

Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)

CH 1 CH 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10

Chapter 11: Broken

WC: 4999 | AO3 link

The house was a flurry of activity, with everyone rushing around to make their final preparations as the clock ticked down to dusk when they would set off for Benny’s to put their plan into motion one last time.

At least Eddie hoped this would be the last time.

He didn’t see Steve again until they arrived at the old abandoned burger place and started unloading the sound system, speakers, and wire from the back of his van, stacking it all near the gate that led to the Upside Down.

Hopper and Nancy stood guard with weapons drawn as he and Steve traversed back and forth into the other dimension, making sure everything was set up and ready to go for Robin and Chrissy to provide the distraction that would draw the bats away from Vecna’s lair.

They stole sideways glances at each other as they worked, not speaking or even properly making eye contact until El pulled them both aside to talk.

“It does not change much from your side of things, but I wanted to explain. I will not be piggybacking into Eddie’s mind. I will wait until Henry is distracted and go into his mind directly.”

Eddie tilted his head, impressed. It was a good idea to change tactics. “Like sneaking in the back door while he’s looking out the front. Okay, yeah, I get it.”

“Yes!” She agreed brightly. “Since he has seen in your mind and has an idea of our plan he will be looking for me in your memories, while I will be sneaking in through his.”

“So what do you need me to do?”

“You still need to think of some happy memories to hide in. The longer you keep him busy, the more time I have to get close before he realizes. The important thing is, you must keep moving, do not let him get too close. I will not be looking for you, so you will be on your own. Jonathan will signal Joyce again with the flashlight when it is time for Steve to pull you out.”

She held Eddie’s gaze firmly until he nodded his understanding, then turned to Steve. “But—If he starts to float, do not wait. Pull him out right away.”

Steve dipped his chin. “I will.”

“What if you need more time?” Eddie asked.

“I won’t.” She insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

All too soon it was time to separate, the goodbyes and good lucks a bit more somber this time around without the rest of the kids there to witness it.

Hopper gave Eddie an unexpected pat on the back before walking off with Joyce to share a private moment by the cars. Jonathan shook his hand, while Nancy gave him a warm smile and a squeeze on the arm before the two of them wandered off as well, keeping an eye on El while she waited for her dad.

Robin was the next to approach, pulling him into a surprisingly tight hug, and whispering a quiet “good luck” before giving up her place to Chrissy and making her way over to where Steve stood.

Chrissy took him into her arms, rocking them side to side as she buried her face in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing her in as he held her back, this precious girl, the only constant he’d really allowed himself to have this go around. She whispered soft words of encouragement to him, making him promise to stay safe while he did the same to her.

When they finally broke apart he found himself staring over her shoulder at the place where he and Steve had shared their own emotional goodbye in the last loop, the moment everything had changed, when he’d been cradled so gently in the other boy’s arms.

It was the same spot where Steve stood now, holding Robin this time, as they too made quiet promises to each other to be careful, where he gave her his baby, his precious nail bat to protect herself with, because weapons would be of no use to him where they were going, wouldn’t help if and when Eddie started to float.

“Remember, no matter what happens, one way or another I’ll see you on the other side.” Chrissy said, drawing his attention back.

He tried to smile at her, to nod, but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t allow for much more than a twitch of his upper lip. He took her hand instead, squeezed it.

“See you on the other side, Chris.”

He looked up again to find Steve’s eyes on him now too, and they walked together in silence to Steve’s car, Joyce already waiting for them in the passenger seat.

Eddie did his best to clear his head on the way to the Creel house, staring out the window as he cataloged the happiest moments of his life, pretending not to notice the way Steve kept trying to catch his eye in the rear view mirror.

To be extra safe, they parked Steve’s BMW behind the dilapidated house where it couldn't be seen from the street. There was no reason to think Jason would be out looking for them this time, but they were taking no risks.

Before they parted in the front yard, her for the jungle gym across the street, and them for the attic where they suspected Vecna would be lurking on the other side, Joyce faced them both and smiled.

“You can do this honey, I know you can,” she said, cupping Eddie’s cheek with one hand before doing the same to Steve with her other. “Take care of each other up there. I’ll come check on you after the final signal.”

Eddie could feel Steve's gaze on him again, the weight of it heavy, as they held their lamps aloft and carefully climbed the stairs to the attic. They had to be as quiet as possible, so as not to draw Vecna’s attention before the others were ready.

They took up positions by a window, leaning against the wall on either side of it so they could see out to where Joyce was waiting to signal them, and after a moment of eerie silence, where they could hear nothing but the barest of sounds emanating from both of their headphones, Steve pulled a notebook and pen out of the inner pocket of his jacket, scribbling something on it quickly before holding it out to Eddie.

Scared?

Eddie made no move to take the pad out of his hand, only stared down at the single word inked there in stark black on the white page. He swallowed hard, shrugging as he looked away from Steve’s penetrating stare.

Of course he was scared, he wanted to say. He was fucking terrified.

That their plan wouldn’t work—that it would.

That he’d die and it would all start over again—that he’d die and it wouldn’t, no more 1ups, game over.

Steve pulled the notebook back to himself, flipped to a fresh page and wrote again, shoving both the pad and pen forcibly into Eddie’s hands, as if to say he wouldn’t take silence for an answer this time.

Why didn’t you want me here?

Though they were more than fair, the words stung to see.

God—Eddie had really fucked up, hadn’t he? And it wasn’t like this was the first time it occurred to him that he’d handled things badly this time around, he was well aware, but it was hitting him hard now as Steve stared at him, looking so hurt and angry.

But what could he do? They were out of time for confessions or explanations.

Eddie wrote back, knowing his short apology was entirely inadequate, but it was all he could offer under the current circumstances.

I'm sorry, It’s complicated.

Steve read the note with a clenched jaw, shaking his head.

The signal came then, three flashes through the window from Joyce, and Eddie was officially out of time. He met Steve’s wounded gaze and wished he’d been brave enough to do it all differently.

At that moment Eddie made up his mind, and maybe it was a little—or a lot—too late, but he decided this was it, it was going to work this time. He could do this, El could do this, they could all do this. And when it was over he would tell Steve everything—all of it. From what they’d been to each other once—what he’d hoped they’d been at least—to how he felt about him now. He would hold nothing back, and whatever would be, would be. At least then he could say he’d tried.

Steve started to tuck the notepad away but Eddie reached out to grip his wrist, stopping him, and gently pried it out of his hand, jotting his last words down as quickly as he could.

He pressed the pad of paper back into Steve’s grip, holding it for a few beats longer than necessary, letting their touch linger as he looked deep into Steve’s eyes one last time, pleading with him to understand.

I AM sorry. Talk later? Let me explain?

Steve pursed his lips, face softening slightly as he took the words in.

Suddenly there was another flash on the window, Joyce signaling them again with her light. They needed to hurry.

Eddie gave Steve a sad smile, wordlessly removing his headphones and handing them over along with the Walkman he unclipped from his belt. He turned, feeling safe with Steve at his back and looked up into the rafters—could almost picture Vecna hanging there by all his tentacle-like vines in the other dimension.

“Okay asshole, I’m here—no music. You win. I give up.”

Eddie waited—thirty seconds, a minute—to see if anything would happen, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

It was always going to be a long shot, making Vecna believe he was actually here surrendering. The enemy knew their plan, had seen it play out in different ways through Eddie’s own memories. If he was going to pull this off, he’d really have to sell it.

He took a deep breath and opened himself wide, letting the pain he’d been collecting like rain water fill his heart to spread throughout his chest, running through his veins like a raging river. All those things he’d tried to push down, and hold back, and sure, they’d spilled over once or twice over the course of days but now he let it flow freely. He thought about it all—the terror of seeing Chrissy succumb not once, not twice, but three times on his watch. He recalled his own deaths too, how he’d known on some level exactly what end he was sentencing himself to when he’d cut the rope, leaving Dustin safely behind as he went to lead the bats away.

He remembered every moment of failure from the first loop to this one in vivid detail.

And Steve.

He thought of Steve, and let Dustin’s voice fill his head again, weakly crying out, He’s gone.

Eddie sniffled, choking back tears as he took a few shaking steps forward, closer to where Vecna should be, and away from his heart, dragging his feet through the thick coating of dust on the old wood floor.

“I thought about what you said, about this being my fate?” His voice, though hollow and ruined, was loud in the unnatural silence of the room.

“You were right—” He shook his head, dropping his voice low, almost a whisper. “Of course you were right. I’m no hero. I can’t save anyone—I can’t even save myself.”

There was a shuffling behind him as Steve moved. Eddie didn't turn to see but he could feel the other boy getting closer and held out a hand to ward him off. The movement stopped immediately.

Eddie hung his head, listening, standing stock-still as seconds gave way to minutes, and still nothing.

Panic began to set in. Their whole plan was hinging on this, it all fell apart if he didn’t get Vecna on the hook.

“Come on goddammit!” He shouted, kicking an old coffee can full of nails clear across the room with a loud clatter. “You offered to end my suffering and I want–I want out… whatever it takes. I just want it to be over!”

One deep breath.

Two.

“What are you waiting for?! You want me to beg? I’m begging! Take me you motherfucker!”

Another sound, a creak and a footstep, the air behind him shifting. Eddie readied to wave Steve off again but the other boy started to speak before he could even lift his arm.

“I knew it. I knew it shouldn’t be you.” Steve snarled. “You can’t even play bait right. Have you always been such a complete and utter failure, Eddie?”

Eddie knew better than to fall for it this time, and he knew Steve better than to think he’d ever say anything to him with that level of vitriol in his voice, no matter what he’d done.

The guy was good, though. Eddie had to give him that. Subtle, just like before he had no way of knowing exactly when it’d happened but he was in Vecna’s thrall now.

It was time.

He backed away from the thing that had again stolen Steve's beautiful face and turned it into something twisted, slamming his eyes shut against the image, doing his best to conjure up the first good memory in his arsenal.

He sat across from Wayne at the little two-seater table in the kitchen in the trailer—a room in a place that was so comfortable and familiar to him now, but on this day, his 12th birthday, still hadn’t quite felt like home yet. Wayne had to work that night, couldn't afford to take the time off, but did his best to make the day a special one for his nephew anyway. He’d woken up much earlier than usual and taken Eddie into town, so he could spend what few quarters he’d managed to scrounge up playing games at the arcade. Now they were back, about to dig into a small but decadent triple chocolate cake, Eddie’s favorite, after splitting a couple cans of SpaghettiOs for dinner—Eddie’s other favorite.

He didn’t expect to receive any gifts.

It was already the best birthday he’d ever had, and his only wish when blowing out his single birthday candle had been that he get to stay with Wayne forever, and maybe return the favor someday—take care of Wayne when he was old and Eddie was grown.

But though he hadn’t been expecting any presents, he’d be lying if he said that the guitar Wayne gave him that night wasn’t the best one he’d ever received. Before leaving for work that night Wayne showed him three chords—G, C, and D, and told him if he could master those he’d be able to play something like half the songs on the radio.

Eddie nodded reverently, and Wayne chuckled, dropping a kiss on the top of his head before leaving for his shift.

He practiced those damn chords until his fingers bled, and loved every minute of it. It was still his happiest birthday to date.

The trailer faded away and suddenly he was in the backstage area of the Hawkins Middle School auditorium, waiting for his turn to go on at the annual talent show.

The other two members of his band stood watching the other acts from the wings with wide eyes, but Eddie? He was transfixed by Chrissy Cunningham as she rehearsed, twirling her pink glittery batton with incredible precision, throwing it up high in the air, and catching it with ease each time.

Until the one time she didn’t, and the stick bounced off of her palm and landed right at his feet. Eddie smiled and quickly bent to pick it up, moving to hand it back but as she reached out began to twirl it between his fingers like it was a drumstick, a skill developed out of boredom and as a way to hone the kind of dexterity he needed in his hands to play the type of music he loved.

She giggled, clapping at his display when he bowed and returned the tool of her trade.

He liked making her laugh, he realized—just plain liked her full stop, actually.

They sat and talked as they waited their turns and Eddie discovered that Chrissy was kind, and as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. He found himself wishing they could be friends, as dumb an idea as that was. She was a cheerleader, a popular kid, top of the food chain, and he was already well on his way to earning the title of Freak. They could never be friends, save for these few stolen moments behind the big black curtain.

Except Eddie knew better now. They would be friends someday, best friends if he had anything to say about it. For a moment he wished he could go back for real, tell that little boy and girl how they’ll save each other—how much they’ll come to mean to each other one day.

The theater lights went out, throwing the backstage area into an abrupt twilight as the scene around him shifted and changed—no longer age-worn linoleum cracking under his sneakers, now his bare feet rested on soft carpet, the walls surrounding him covered in the most hideous plaid wallpaper.

It was dark, the room unlit save for a few slivers of moonlight peaking in between the blinds as he climbed into the bed where Steve already lay. It was a night from exactly one week ago, in the previous loop, the last one they’d spent together before dying.

Steve pulled him close, wrapping him up in his arms, entwining their legs until Eddie didn’t know where he ended and Steve began.

It all felt so real, and so good. Like coming home.

Steve was warm and solid and when Eddie nuzzled into his neck he didn’t pull away, he leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s hair and pressing lips to it.

It would have been easy to stay there in that memory as long as possible, but the fear of Vecna showing up and tainting it in some way was enough of a motivator to have Eddie wracking his brain for the next happy thought.

He hadn’t really prepared for more than this, he wasn’t exactly a walking fount of good times, and it felt like he’d already been stuck in this mindscape, or whatever it was, for too long—but he tried.

The only thing on his mind now was SteveSteveSteve, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he blinked and found himself back behind Benny’s getting ready to head into the Upside Down, only to hear those two little words fall from Steve’s lips right behind him again.

“Eddie, wait.”

He smiled to himself, waiting for the familiar touch of Steve’s hand on his elbow but it never came, instead there was a cool rattling breath on the back of his neck.

Eddie whirled, gasping at the sight and scrambled backwards to get away from the vile creature that was now in front of him, much too close for comfort. Vecna, in his true form, a humanoid nightmare covered in taut sinewy flesh and raw meat.

His heart pounded and panic crawled up his throat like bile as he backed into the building, his hands slapping at the wall, searching for the gate that should be there. He just needed to get away, get enough distance between them so he could think, maybe come up with another memory to hide him.

But then the wall was gone, something more like wet tree bark beneath his hands now. His vision swam, the light around him growing and changing, the sky no longer the blues and pinks of dusk—he was surrounded by a blood red haze.

His fingers kept searching anyway until they brushed up against cold dead skin. He recoiled, screaming, and looked back to find the body of Fred Benson wrapped up in vines, and mounted like a trophy on a pole.

This was not his memory, he’d never seen this place before, but needed only one guess to figure out where he was. No longer stuck in his own mind he must be in Vecna’s now, with no idea how to get out.

A rushing sound filled the space between his ears, the rhythmic whooshing of blood as it pumped through his body, so loud inside his own head.

There was a thing out there that could help him, it was… it was right there on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t—

His vision narrowed, the world whiting out around him, tipping on its side and he felt himself falling—falling for much longer than it should have taken to hit the ground.

He landed on his back, blinking hard and tried to sit up, but he was so tired. He’d been running—hiding from something. He was almost sure.

A familiar sound began far off in the distance, he strained to hear it, tried to recognize it, but his own pulse was still so loud and distracting.

A pair of legs in jeans and sneakers—moving, alive—a girl, came into view.

He shrank away from her, unsure.

“Eddie? You shouldn’t be here. It’s time for you to go.”

“I don’t—how—what?”

Oh.

The girl was El, she was his friend. He couldn’t remember before, couldn't seem to think straight.

“El,” he breathed, as she helped him to stand, shaking his head to try and clear some of the fog. “I–I don’t feel so good.”

“He’s dying, Eleven.” Vecna’s deep rasping voice boomed nearby as he approached them. “You can’t even save one of your friends, yet you expect to stop me?”

He raised a long gnarled claw in Eddie’s direction but El stepped in front, mirroring him with her own hand raised, the force of their power like a shimmering heat in the air between them.

Suddenly the strange noise got louder, and it wasn’t just noise, Eddie could make out the vocals now, the beating of the drums, the thrashing of the guitar.

“You hear it, the music?” Eleven shouted to him as she continued to hold Vecna at bay. “That is Steve calling you back to him. Look for him, Eddie. Find the way out. You have to hurry.”

The more he concentrated on it the better he could hear the rhythm and pulse of Master of Puppets being pumped into this place, beckoning to him—Steve and Joyce too, shouting his name—and he felt a little more like himself.

“What about you?” Eddie asked.

“I’ve got this.” She said, never taking her eyes off her target. In the next instant she let out a primal scream, a fierce shriek unlike anything he’d ever heard before, and Vecna went flying up in the air, his arms seemingly pinned to his sides.

Eddie cast his gaze around wildly, looking for anything out of place in this hellscape, and finally spotted a faint light on the horizon that had to be his portal. He ran. It was a long way off but he gave it everything he had, arms pumping, legs burning.

He stumbled, woozy and lightheaded, but caught himself—kept going.

As he got close he could see himself floating there in the attic, Steve clinging to his leg, reaching for his hand, and without a second thought hurled himself head first into the mirage.

Eddie took a deep shuddering breath.

It was dark.

He was cold.

He couldn't feel anything.

“Steve?” He sobbed.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Arms tightened around him and suddenly Eddie could feel again, everywhere Steve touched him at least, and something hot and wet that was dripping down his face.

It was still dark.

“I can’t–I can’t see anything.”

Steve rocked him gently. “You’re safe. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

He tried to move, to touch back, but there was an awful grinding pain.

Eddie hissed. “My arm—”

“Don’t try to move, okay? I don’t–” Steve's chest shook, Eddie thought he might be crying. “I don’t know how badly you’re hurt yet–”

It all went quiet abruptly.

Eddie drifted in the dark. It was a lot like the place he went between loops.

“Eddie? Eddie?!”

He came back to himself with Steve shaking him, screaming his name. He tried to respond but every effort felt like far too much. Maybe he was dying again. If so, at least this time it would be in Steve’s arms.

There were far worse ways to go.

Eddie woke up.

It was a first for him, at least in recent experience, to wake up from unconsciousness in a hospital like a normal person instead of falling back into his body in the past.

His head ached but it was a distant thing, thanks to good ol’ prescription painkillers no doubt.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, a little stunned that he could see at all, but it was blurry and unfocused. There was a shapeless form wearing Steve’s clothes asleep in a chair by his bed, what looked like Robin in another by the door. He wondered how long he’d been out, if it was the same night. He tried to raise his arm, to reach for Steve even though he was too far away. But the arm was too heavy in its cast.

He fell asleep before he could try again.

When he roused next, it was to low voices arguing quietly nearby.

“You don’t know that.”

“Seems pretty fucking clear to me, Robin. I’m–I'm gonna go. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Steve–”

“Don’t! Just—call me if anything happens?”

“Okay.”

A door closed, heavy and final.

That didn’t sound good.

Eddie burned to know what they were talking about but sleep once again sucked him under mid-thought.

When he woke for good the sun was shining in through the windows, and Wayne, Chrissy, Robin, and Dustin were all sitting around his bed. He could see again.

It was Wayne who first noticed the change, jumping up out of his chair to hover over him.

“Boy you ever scare me like that again I'll kill you myself, you hear me?” The man muttered as he leaned down to give him a hug.

Eddie chuckled hoarsely into his uncle's shoulder, and could have cried with how happy he was to see him and his familiar gray stubble, the smell of Marlboro Reds wafting off his jacket. “I missed you too, old man.”

“You-all keep an eye on him,” Wayne said to the small crowd as he headed for the room’s door. “I’ll go and tell the nurse you’re awake.”

Like he was going to get up and run away.

Eddie carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position with his one good arm, surprised to find he wasn’t feeling worse.

“What happened?” He asked, now that they were alone.

“They got him!” Chrissy beamed.

“Hopper said they burned what they could–” Dustin elaborated, swallowing thickly. “And chopped the rest up into little pieces after El destroyed his mind. It’s over, for real this time.”

Eddie sagged in relief, sinking back into his pillow.

“Oh thank fuck. Do you think that means the rest of it’s over too, the loops I mean? I don’t think I can do it again, man.”

“Well, since we don’t know what caused you to start looping to begin with there’s no way to know for sure, but if the catalyst is you dying, and here you are very much alive even if you did give us quite the fucking scare you asshole!” Dustin swatted him in the shoulder above his cast.

“Hey! Watch the goods!”

“I would say odds are you're safe from having to go back again. As long as you don’t, y’know, die for a while.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Eddie grinned, hoping to draw a smile out of the kid, but he remained solemn and serious.

“Good.” Dustin said, flatly.

Eddie sighed. “Dustin, I–”

“We almost lost you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie wanted to say more, but voices could be heard making their way down the hall towards his room, and he needed to know what he was supposed to say to them.

“Listen, quick, before they come in.” Robin jumped in, grasping the situation just as he had. “The official story is that you were attacked and kidnapped by the same serial killer who murdered Fred and Patrick, the long lost son of Victor Creel. You managed to escape, and Joyce and Steve found you on the side of the road and brought you here. If anyone asks for details just tell them you don’t remember.”

The last word was barely out of her mouth when the door swung open, revealing Wayne along with a doctor and two nurses, who quickly went about examining him.

He got lucky—very lucky. As bad as he’d looked when he was brought in, unconscious and pale and covered in blood, it all boiled down to a few bruises and a broken arm. The doctor’s had worried for his sight, since much of the blood had seemed to come from his eyes, but on closer examination they couldn’t find an actual wound, and he passed a vision test with flying colors.

They wanted to hold him one more night for observation, but that was it. Come the next day he’d be free to go home, with a follow-up appointment scheduled for 6 weeks from now to come back and have his cast removed.

Still, throughout the course of the day everyone paid him a visit, with one notable exception.

Steve never showed.

No one brought him up and Eddie was too afraid of the answer to question it.

He’d asked if they could talk later, pleaded with Steve to let him explain—and supposed his absence now was answer enough. Clearly Steve had decided he wasn’t worth hearing out.

Chapter 12

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated, and if you want to be tagged just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

Permanent taglist(open): @hitlikehammers @pearynice @penny00dreadful

Fic taglist(open): @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch @lawrencebshoggoth @stillfullofshit @lil-gremlin-things @mamafaithful @klausinamarink @starlight-archer

#steddie fanfic #time loop #pov eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington/eddie munson #platonic hellcheer #platonic stobin #steve x eddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #wayne munson

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deansapplepie · 5 months

Text

Inherited | Chapter 3

Summary: Daryl needs Y/N’s opinion about something, but what she has to say isn’t exactly what he wants to listen.

Warnings: mentions of animal abuse (or kind of). Minors do not Interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 1,995

A/N: English isn’t my first language so it can have mistakes.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Chapter 3:

Beautiful but treacherous

You were at your dad’s office, well… now you thought it would start to be yours. When you went to Administration College, you thought about having an excuse to come back and help your dad with the farm, but you never did. You worked as ADM on Aaron’s business instead. So now it was time for you to start taking care of everything. You took all the recent documents, the financial books and had everything spread or piled on the table.

Aaron and Eric went for a walk around the farm, to get to know everything while you were busy checking if everything was ok. Your hair was tied up on a ponytail and you frowned in concentration, when you heard a knock on the door. You looked up and Daryl was standing there, you waited for him to speak.

“Good ya’re looking at it, ‘cause I know nothing about it.” He said, walking inside the office hat on his hand.

“Guess, going to college wasn’t so useless. Don’t you think?” You smirked, he knew why you were saying this. “Can I help you, Dixon?”

“I wanna show ya somethin’ and discuss it.” He said after clearing his throat, he tried to be polite and make small talk before, but he should have seen it coming since you have been at each other throats since you arrived.

“Sure, what is it?” You asked him.

“Follow me to the stables.” He said, you got up and he took you in. “Ya better grab yer boots, bet ya dun want yer white sneakers dirty.”

You looked at your shoes and sighed in frustration going to your room to change for your boots. When you came back you followed him to the stables, your eyes roaming about the land and many memories floating around in your mind. When you got to the stables you remembered about how many times you helped your dad there, how you would come and help Daryl so you both could play faster. When you asked your father if you could go play with Daryl he always said “Help him to finish the chores and both of you can play.” These were memories that brought a smile to your face.

You’d just got to the farm for your first summer with your dad after him and your mom divorced. 9 year-old you couldn’t contain the excitement of being back home, with your dad and close to your friends. Your dad parked his old truck on the garage and you got off of the car running to find who you needed.

“I love you too sweetie.” Your dad shouted playfully, he had picked you up at Atlanta’s airport, you had hugged and talked a lot already.

You ran until you found Daryl brushing a mare’s fur. You shouted his name and he stopped everything to look at you, a small smile on his face. You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a tight hug. When you parted from the embrace, first thing you did was looking on his arm for the bracelet you gave him, it was there.

He looked at you eyeing your clothes, pink shoes, jeans and a shirt with unicorns and rainbows in it. “Why’re dressin’ like a girl?” He wasn’t used to you dressing like this. That wasn’t you.

“ ‘cause… I’m a girl?” You answered not understanding where your friend want to take this conversation.

“Ya dun dress this kind of girlie things, this isn’t ya.” He said and you didn’t know how to explain it for him. Sometimes you’d call to talk to him or Maggie, but you never said how things sucked at school.

“I have to. The other kids pick on me, so I have to wear this clothes.” You drawled, in your old school nobody would do this, everyone were the same way, but now it was completely different.

“Why don’t ya punch them?” He stated matter of factly.

“ ‘cause it’s wrong, and I’d have to punch the whole school.” You said. “Dun wanna talk more about it. I wanna have the best summer with ya and Mags!”

Daryl smiled, he was happy. He had missed you so much, there wasn’t a day where he and Maggie didn’t talk or thought about you. Everything reminded you. He really wanted to go to NY and kick the ass of everyone on your school, but he’d rather enjoy the little time that summer was with you.

“Are ya gonna come or are ya staying there smiling all goofy?” Daryl brought you back from your memories.

You were at the door of the stables and he was already in the middle of it, waiting for you. You shook your head sending all those thoughts away and following him inside. He stopped in front of a stall, there was a beautiful black horse and you couldn’t help but stare in awe at the beautiful animal.

“It’s beautiful.” You said, before you could think about anything.

“Beautiful but treacherous.” Daryl said bitterly.

“Is it… the horse?” You asked, by his tone you knew it was.

“Yeah.” He affirmed. He leaned on the stall and looked at you. “What d’ya want to do with it?”

“What do you mean?” He was the one in care of the animals, you knew how to do it, but it was his job.

“D’ya wanna sell it or sacrifice it?” He asked bluntly and your heart went directly to your throat, his words surprised you a lot. Your dad would never get rid of an animal just because he couldn’t tame it on the first time. Your dad taught you to love and respect the animals, you’d just take an animal’s life for 2 reasons: 1- you needed to eat. 2- It was suffering.

“Daryl…” you took a breath before saying what you were going to say, because it was also being difficult for you. “This options are not going to bring him back or make the pain go away.”

“So, you’d rather look at it everyday and remember it killed your daddy?” He wasn’t being reasonable, and you knew he could be like this when he was angry or sad or hurt.

“If… he haven’t died. If he had just fell from the horse… what would he do?” You knew the answer, but you wanted to make him think.

Silence.

“He’d find another way. He’d try another method.” You said. “And you know I’m right. You knew him.”

Silence. He gripped the stall with both hands, a heavy sigh leaving him. You knew it was destroying him. You got closer to him and slowly and carefully put one hand on his shoulder. “We don’t need to find a guilty. It was an accident. He wouldn’t like to see you like…” ‘this’ you would say. But he took your hand off him and by his looks you swear he hated you.

“Ya know shit about what he’d like! Ya didn’t even come here on family holidays! Ya have no right to say what he’d like or not.” He shouted at you and left the stable cursing and stomping his feat. He knew you were right, and he could see that you were still as sweet as you used to be before, but it didn’t change what you did and what you said.

You stayed there paralyzed, you were just trying to help. You just wanted to remember him what your father would want and that it wasn’t it that would make the grief go away. You knew it would never stop, many people that had already lost their parents told you it was a pain that you’d never forget, you just get used to it and learn how to live with it. But you shouldn’t have known it was going to be like this, he didn’t want to discuss feelings with you, he just wanted business. That was what you were now, business partners and he wanted you to make a decision about the horse, together. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings, but suggesting selling or killing the horse… that was exactly what he was doing. So many years and he’s still didn’t know how to manage his feelings.

Later that day, you called Aaron and Eric to the office, so you could talk with them. They were leaving the next day and you couldn’t let Aaron go without knowing what you were about to do.

“I’m not going back to NY.” You said, it was better to say it quickly than to take much longer.

“You aren’t just resigning, are you?” He asked, how he would find someone that he trusted to help him administer his business.

“Yes, I am.” You said feeling a little guilty. “I need to stay, that was what I was supposed to do since the beginning.”

“Can’t you continue to work for me from distance? I mean, we can do everything online nowadays.” He insisted. “I’ll never find someone like you.”

“We can try, but if I feel it’s too much…”

“Ok, we can try to work like this. If it works, it is an extra money for you. If it doesn’t… I may have to kidnap you.” He said, joking in the end to try to lighten the mood.

“Deal.” You said and extended your hand so he could shake it, and he did.

When the night arrived and everybody went to sleep, you didn’t feel like going to bed. So you headed outside, the cold breeze of the night hitting your face. You thought it would be good to watch the stars from outside instead of from your room like you did the night before. You walked to your spot, you could watch the stars from anywhere, but you felt it was wrong if you didn’t do it from the same place you used to.

Getting close to it, you saw his frame there. So you were not wrong the day before, he was the one there. Today, once again he smoked his cigarette while observing the sky. He listened to you arriving, you were silent, but he had a good hearing from years getting into the woods and hunting to feed his family. You sat on the fence, a little distant from him. He let some smoke come out of his mouth and turned to you, you were staring. Damnit, you were caught.

“Didn’t want to watch it from your window again?” He asked taking his cigar to his mouth. So he had seen you…

“It isn’t as good as here.” You answered looking to the sky again and trying hard to not look at him. “Thought you’d stop doing it…”

“I tried. It seems like this shit is as addicting as my cigar.” Why did he started to make small talk with you again? He couldn’t understand his own actions. He was angry at you, with all your smartness and sweetness acting like you knew everything and you were always right. But he couldn’t stop himself from talking any shit with you, he wished he had come up with an offense but he was not in the mood to fight. Yes, the days Daryl Dixon wasn’t in the mood to fight existed.

The last thing you imagined was that you were going to be stuck in the farm with him, having to be polite and talk. The thing was, you couldn’t even make a conversation without being pricks to each other.

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, so you just kept you attention to the sky.

Wanna be add to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Inherited Taglist: @angelbunny222

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #inherited twd au #deansapplepie

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marcmarcmomarc · 2 months

Text

After the news of Rooster Teeth’s death, I decided to remake this post of Ruby telling the tale of RWBY+J’s time in the Ever After to the Remnant Alliance as another dose of RWBY positivity, once again inspired by this post by @pmpknsoup.

———————————————————————————

(In Theodore’s office in Shade Academy at early evening, Team RWBY and Jaune face the main members of the Remnant Alliance.)

RUBY: Listen. Thanks, everyone, for your patience. It took a while to figure out how to tell you, and I know being left in the dark about our whereabouts over the remainder of the winter, the whole spring, and the summer has left you anxious, but now, I’ve decided it’s time to reveal what’s been going on. Miss Robyn Hill, I’ll need your Semblance to prove all of this correct.

ROBYN: Uh, okay.

(Robyn steps away from the group, removes her glove, and joins hands with Ruby. Her Semblance turns on and glows green with every piece of information Ruby gives.)

ROBYN: So what happened in the pocket dimension?

RUBY: Well, after I fell, I regained consciousness on a beach surrounded by giant seashells. I tried to hone in on a giant tree, but just ended up looping in circles. Eventually, I had to stop, then found a mouse trying to pull a plant out of the ground. I pulled the plant out for the mouse and fed them a cheese. After the mouse revealed that they could talk, I named them Little, and they decided to stay by my side as I tried to get home. Then we found Weiss and Blake captured in vines by a whole village of talking mice. It didn’t take much convincing to get them to let them go. Then we went to look for Yang and found a creepy Grimm-looking creature moving jerkily. And I mean very creepy. Then Yang came barreling out, already fighting the creature while missing her arm. Then Blake realized we were in our favorite childhood fairy tale, The Girl Who Fell Through the World.

(Confusion and wonder all around. “That fairy tale?” “The Ever After?” “It’s real?”)

OSCAR: That fairy tale actually happened? And the Ever After is real?

RUBY: Which meant the creepy Grimm-like creature was the Jabberwalker from that story. Also, Weiss had a very hard time wrapping her head around the Ever After’s absurdities.

(Weiss blushes with embarrassment.)

WEISS: Did not.

RUBY: Our hands are glowing green, Weiss. Robyn’s Semblance never fails. Then we went to the village in the Crimson Acre to barter with the Jinxy Peddler, who had stolen Yang’s arm, or “took something we weren’t looking at”, according to Little.

EMERALD: You met the Jinxy Peddler?

VELVET: Was he cute?

WEISS: Yeah.

RUBY: And, despite being older than he was in the book, his strategy was the same, selling treasures that are really other items in disguise. If my memory serves me right, he had a yellow scepter, a pink rabbit statue, and a marionette-like doll. Toy soldiers won the scepter, and we only got it back from them because Little tried stealing the marionette, exposing Jinxy’s treasures as fakes. The rabbit statue was another mouse, the scepter was Yang’s arm, and the marionette was one of Penny’s Floating Array swords. The soldiers followed us to arrest us for stealing Yang’s arm, or “royal property”, before I traded Penny’s sword, with a story of her being the greatest warrior to ever live. “She was touched by magic, and she gave her life for thousands. She took a message of hope to the stars, and she saw the world through better eyes.”

(The gang gets emotional, especially Winter and Pietro, who are comforted by their loved ones.)

RUBY: The soldiers escorted us to the Crimson Castle for the birthday of who we thought was the Red King, but turned out to be the Red Prince, who was more of a spoiled brat than Weiss was at Beacon.

YANG: (nudging Weiss) Heh-heh.

RUBY: We challenged him to a game of chess, where he shrunk the girls to the size of chess pawns. Not that it hindered their performance against the Prince’s pawns. When we revealed that we’re humans and beat him, he threw a tantrum and wanted us beheaded, and the Curious Cat rescued us.

(More interested chatter. Nora gets giddy.)

NORA: The Curious Kitty?!

REN: Were they as chatty as the book made them out to be?

RUBY: Mm-hm. Not to mention easily distracted. Anyway, they took us to look for ingredients for a Growgurt Parfait in the Garden Acre, and we told them our life story, then they briefly distracted me with questions about how I’m supposed to save the world now that Salem has two out of four Relics and that Atlas is gone, making me lose them over and over again. After the third time, we met an herbalist, a caterpillar named Herb who seemed to be asking us questions to figure out what medicine he needed to make to help us. Reasonable, as too little medicine is useless, but too much medicine is toxic. Eventually Herb just decided to smoke a hookah for a bit and drugged us with leaves that made us see our past selves tempting us to “go back”. To be free. To be simple. To be whole. To be different. The other girls rejected and had already accepted their failures as something to learn from, but I almost gave in, before the Cat stopped me, then got Herb swallowed by a hole in the ground.

TAI: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. You guys did drugs?

QROW: Don’t let alcoholism be next, girls.

RUBY: Anyway, the Cat led us to a market to keep looking for the Parfait ingredients. Along the way, they told us about a process that occurs when an Afteran is no longer doing the assigned role that they are supposed to be, triggered by them losing their ways, wearing out, doubting themselves, or even just finishing their assigned tasks, upon which they are taken to the Great Tree and repurposed into someone or something else with a new identity, personality, and role. Their memories are erased in the process, but the heart very rarely forgets. They don’t die. They ascend.

(Such a concept catches the interest of the gang.)

REMNANT ALLIANCE: Ooh.

RUBY: And then, the market was attacked by Jabberwalkers using Neopolitan’s Semblance. Yeah, Neopolitan fell with us, too.

(The members of the Alliance who know who Neo was grow worried.)

REN: Uh-oh.

TAI: Neopolitan? Who’s that?

RUBY: Roman Torchwick’s parter. She’s held me responsible for his death at the Fall of Beacon and wanted me dead to avenge him.

RAVEN: Was she that chick I saved Yang from on the train on Mountain Glenn?

RUBY: Yep. Then I disposed of her by opening her umbrella on an Atlas airship in the sky during the Fall of Beacon. Apparently she survived that fall without any of those Grimm surrounding us eating her.

OSCAR: Team JNPR and I last fought her right after Ironwood declared us fugitives.

RUBY: Then she fought us in the pocket dimension between here and Solitas. Heck, she was the reason Yang, Blake, and I fell. Anyway, we had all of the ingredients for the Parfait, and the girls grew back to normal size just as we got assistance from the Rusted Knight riding his white rabbit.

WHITLEY: Did Weiss go goo-goo eyes the second she laid eyes on him? She had a crush on him when she was younger.

BLAKE: I think everyone had a crush on the Rusted Knight at some point.

RUBY: Well, things didn’t help when he turned out to be a grown-up Jaune with longer hair and a beard, who grabbed a fruit that sent him back in time twenty years right after he landed.

(The gang gasps at the new knowledge of the Rusted Knight being not only Jaune, of all people, but Jaune thrown backwards in time, grown older, and living without his friends for so long.)

NORA: Oh, my Gods, Jaune!

JAUNE: I was stuck there isolated from other human contact, too.

YANG: Weiss certainly loved how mature he was.

RUBY: And the white rabbit was a jackalope Jaune named Juniper.

NORA: After his team? Aww!

RUBY: Then Jaune told us his perspective on the Tree, that he believed it was death, that Alyx backstabbed her brother Lewis, the author of the fairy tale, who wrote the story the way he wished it happened, and that the Cat couldn’t be trusted. Before long, we got caught in a “punderstorm”, which creates a physical manifestation of a mental or emotional problem. Jaune, Weiss, Juniper, and I were sent to metaphorical and literal crossroads, while Yang and Blake were sent to two broken, wooden, rickety bridges connected to a giant pillar that they could only make more planks to advance toward if they were honest about their feelings for each other. Yeah, Yang and Blake are girlfriends now.

(Everyone’s hearts melt, all proud for the Bees.)

REMNANT ALLIANCE: Aww!

NORA: See, Ren? I told you there was more going on!

KALI: Our baby girl found love?

TAI: With my sunny little dragon?

RAVEN: Wow. She really is your daughter, Tai.

RUBY: Then the Cat bailed on us after mistaking us for selfishly using them to get home, and once the storm passed, Jaune let us spend the night in his house in the Origami Acre, then he introduced us the next morning to a village of paper stars called the Paper Pleasers whose purpose was finished and kept trying to go to the Tree to gain a new purpose, but Jaune had been stopping them for as long as he knew them. He also named them after all of us. On Jaune’s to-do list, I saw Ren, Ruby, Oscar, Nora, Neptune, and Pyrrha. Anyway, a Paper Pleaser told us that Jaune had nothing to worry about, that the Tree isn’t death, it’s rebirth. They were just listening to Jaune so as to not hurt his feelings. Then Neo’s Jabberwalkers attacked, and while we were distracted, the Paper Pleasers finally managed to off themselves via destroying the koi pond dam, then when the girls asked me to help comfort Jaune, I blew up at them for caring more about everyone else’s feelings or getting home, taking my mental health for granted and ignoring my problems…

(Everyone leans in anxiously. Things are getting even more interesting, but not in a good way.)

(Weiss, Blake, Yang, and Jaune exchange looks of guilt.)

RUBY: …then I ran away, came across the Abandoned Acre, and entered a random mansion, where Neo had made clone illusions of Roman Torchwick, Penny, Pyrrha, Professor Lionheart, Clover, Ozpin, and Ironwood, and used them to physically and psychologically abuse me, beating me up ruthlessly and blaming me for their deaths, and when the chaos was over, I felt no will to live or be myself anymore, not helped by Torchwick’s question: “Do you really think you can stand to watch more of your friends fall? Or are you ready to admit the truth, that the world would just be better off without you?”

(The gang regards Ruby with sorrow over her being trampled by her trauma. Ozpin can be heard sniffling.)

RUBY: Then Neo offered me tea made from leaves from the Tree intended to wipe me from existence, then the Cat blasted her away, but then turned out to be evil and tried to possess me, while revealing that they had been trying to wear me down, then Neo fought them off and stomped Little to death, then I finally gave in, drank the tea, offing myself, and got swallowed by the Tree.

YANG: (tearing up) Oh, Rubes.

RUBY: Then I met a Blacksmith, who I also found at the market, or, rather, she found me, and then she presented me with a choice to either change my identity or be myself. I saw my mom’s weapon and was treated to a vision of the night she left with Raven on another one of Ozpin’s secret missions and never came back.

(Tai turns accusingly at Raven.)

TAI: Raven?

YANG: She lied? She left with you?

RAVEN: Yeah… Hey, like I said to her, “First time for everything.”

(The gang gives her a look.)

RAVEN: Really? Sheesh. Tough crowd.

HARE: (to Ruby) Wait. What did you say your mother’s name was again?

RUBY: Summer.

HARE: (muttering) So, her uncle is Qrow, her father is Taiyang, and her sister’s mother is Raven. All are members of Team STRQ. Summer, Summer, Summer… (out loud) Summer Rose, the leader of Team STRQ, was your mother?

REMNANT ALLIANCE (walla): Summer?…Summer Rose?…The previous silver-eyed Huntress?…That’s Summer Rose’s daughter?

RUBY: Yeah. And then, I finally remembered my mom’s words, “I love you just the way you are,” and chose to be myself. And I. Came. Back, and helped the girls fight the Cat. And we won.

(Cheers and applause all around.)

RUBY: And then Neo killed the Cat with the Jabberwalkers, who, by the way, are the only creatures to prevent Ascension if they eat Afterans.

BLAKE: On my count, there were a whopping five of them.

REMNANT ALLIANCE (walla): Five?…Five of them?…Five Jabberwalkers?

SUN: Talk about overkill.

ELM: (after doing the multiplication math in her head) That’s gotta be over ninety teeth!

RUBY: And, according to the girls, Neo was possessed by the Cat, and she chose to accept Torchwick’s death and undergo her own Ascension. Oh, and Little ascended, too, into who we called Somewhat, and succeeded Jaune as the protector of the Ever After. By then, we had made it to the Tree by coming to terms with the truth, we’ll never be perfect, that even the most skilled Huntsmen and Huntresses have failed, and we walked through the door back home, landed inside the plane of the Tree, and met the Blacksmith again at her workshop. When we noticed two statues of the Brother Gods, she told us their backstory. That the Ever After was overfilled with plants and dangerous wildlife in its primordial years, but the Brothers were created to clear it out. Then they created the Afterans as well as the different acres for them to live in. They designed new creations that would replace them in maintaining the Ever After. This was how the Cat was created. They later created the Jabberwalker as a form of destruction. However, the two disagreed on whether it disrupted the balance or not and began to wage war.

OSCAR AND OZPIN: (both scoff) What else is new?

RUBY: The Blacksmith told us how balance isn’t supposed to be two opposing forces locked in battle; balance is an ecosystem, an organism, and a living thing, thus balance isn’t restored with force or manipulation, it’s restored naturally, requiring love and patience to see it through to the end. The Gods got to Remnant because the Ever After created a door to a “greater beyond” for them, so they can leave and experiment in creating new worlds as much as they like.

NORA: (snickering) So the Tree basically said, “You think you have life sorted out? Then get out of my house”?

RUBY: Pretty much.

(Everyone laughs at the Brother Gods basically being kicked out of the house by their “mommy”. Some Gods they are.)

YANG: (wiping a tear) Oh, my Gods, that’s such a hilarious way of looking at it. Thanks, Nora.

RUBY: Anyway, the Blacksmith told us that we have impacted the Ever After significantly; just like Somewhat, Alyx, and Lewis, and that the Cat caused a bad impact. Then she de-aged Jaune, but let him keep his memories, which explains the white streak in his hair, and made us a portal in the desert on the outskirts of the city, and now you’re all caught up.

(Ruby lets go of Robyn’s hand. The freedom fighter rejoins the rest of the Alliance.)

RUBY: So, I’m happy to announce that I’m not giving up the fight to save the world anytime soon. No longer will we be putting the entire burden of the world’s safety on one individual, for we are Team Remnant, led by us, Team RWBY!

REMNANT ALLIANCE (walla): Yes!…Great!…Alright!…Thank goodness…Welcome back, Ruby…Good to have you back, kid…Way to go, Ruby!…That’s my girl!

YANG: We’re so proud of you, Ruby.

RUBY: Thanks, guys. You and your support mean the world to me. And I’m just as proud to call you guys family. All of you.

(Everyone looks at Ruby with warmed hearts.)

———————————————————————————

Starring the voices of:

Lindsay Jones as Ruby Rose

Cristina Vee as Robyn Hill

Aaron Dismuke as Oscar Pine

Kara Eberle as Weiss Schnee

Katie Newville as Emerald Sustrai

Caiti Ward as Velvet Scarlatina

Barbara Dunkelman as Yang Xiao Long

Samantha Ireland as Nora Valkyrie

Neath Oum as Lie Ren

Burnie Burns as Taiyang Xiao Long

Jason Liebrecht as Qrow Branwen

Anna Hullum as Raven Branwen

Howard Wang as Whitley Schnee

Arryn Zech as Blake Belladonna

Miles Luna as Jaune Arc

Tara Platt as Kali Belladonna

Anairis Quiñones as Harriet Bree

Michael Jones as Sun Wukong

Dawn M. Bennett as Elm Ederne

Shannon McCormick as Professor Ozpin

Additional Voices:

Sena Bryer as May Marigold

Ashley Burns as Coco Adel

Tiana Camacho as Glynda Goodwitch

Cam Clarke as Bartholomew Oobleck

Michele Everheart as Fiona Thyme

Dave Fennoy as Dr. Pietro Polendina

Gavin Free as Scarlet David

Caitlin Glass as Willow Schnee

Lauren Landa as Carmella Lindt

Mick Lauer as Marrow Amin

Cherami Leigh as Ilia Amitola

Marissa Lenti as Joanna Greenleaf

Joe MacDonald as Yatsuhashi Daichi

Aaron Marquis as Nolan Porfirio

Elizabeth Maxwell as Winter Schnee

Lani Minella as Rowena Sunnybrook

Max Mittelman as Fox Alistair

Josh Ornelas as Sage Ayana

Anthony Sardinha as Peter Port

Kerry Shawcross as Neptune Vasilias

Keith Silverstein as Professor Theodore

Melissa Sternenberg as Maria Calavera

J. Michael Tatum as Klein Sieben

Kent Williams as Ghira Belladonna

Anne Yatco as Xanthe Rumpole

“One Day More” section here.

Moodboard index here.

20 notes · View notes