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ladykailitha · 1 year

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If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 18

Everyone wave bye-bye to Allison. She’s off to start her life anew in Indy. And Lucas has some thoughts on the matter.

Edited to Add: Shit, shit, shit! I thought I changed that. Max is still in the hospital and doesn’t meet Allison here. Shit! Updated to reflect that.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

***

Steve decided after that they would need to throw a party to introduce his mother to the rest of the Party because Dustin bursting in like that did not make for a happy Steve.

His anxiety had shot up the second Dustin pushed Eddie. Of course Allison smoothed it over like she always does, but Steve didn’t want a repeat. And they both had a good reason to celebrate.

Steve had bought the house that she had pointed out and Allison Harrington was now Allison Kincaid once again. Harold didn’t have a leg to stand on, so much so that he had gone through three separate lawyers before he gave up and let her have whatever she wanted.

She got the house and immediately turned around and turned into a safe house for battered women seeking her help to divorce their horrible husbands.

Allison had then bought a nice penthouse suite in Indy. Steve had tried to convince her to stay in Hawkins but it wasn’t her home anymore. It was Steve’s though and he deserved to have that life without her shadow looming over him.

But she promised she’d call and visit often. So this was a housewarming, divorce, good-bye party all rolled into one.

Before the party started Steve corralled everyone in the front room, before letting them enjoy the first really warm day of the year by splashing around in his brand new pool.

Wayne, Robin, Eddie, and Dustin stood on the outskirts of the room while Steve stood in the middle of the room.

“Why can’t we just go into the pool?” Erica whined.

Steve’s lip curled. “Because there is someone else here that I want you guys to meet but I need to explain some things first before you do. Because it could be very disastrous otherwise.”

Mike looked at Eddie and then back to Steve. “Is this about the lady I saw you with at the store the other day?”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, it is.”

“You seemed really friendly with her...” Mike said suspiciously.

He laughed. “God I hope so! She’s my mom.”

The room erupted in a roar of disbelief and anger. Steve whistled long and loud and suddenly the room was so quiet it was almost as deafening as their roar.

“And this is why I wanted to talk to you all first,” he said. “She thought I was fine because my dad lied to her. She had been building up a divorce case for the past four years and didn’t know about all the shit that was going on.”

“And you believed her?” Mike asked with an eye roll.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You’ve clearly never met my mother. When she saw the wound on my neck, I thought she was going to murder my dad right there in the front hall.”

“Are you sure, Steve?” Nancy asked, timidly. “She should have been here for the first concussion at the very least.”

There were some murmurs of agreement that skittered across the room.

Steve nodded. “Dad kept that all from her. He thought I wasn’t as bad they said because clearly I was just doing it for attention.”

Will’s eyes went wide. “Just how much did he hate you?”

“Far too much,” a calm voice said from the doorway.

All the heads in the room turned to see the most striking woman they had ever seen. Her long dark brown hair was artfully arranged on her head. Her makeup was flawless, but designed to highlight her age and not hide it.

She wore a simple black one-piece swimsuit with a billowing white robe.

The boys’ jaws were on the floor, as El and Erica looked at Steve in shock.

Steve ducked to hide the fond smile that came to his lips when he saw his mom these days.

Allison made her way to stand next to Steve and kissed his cheek. “I know it’s hard to believe, but everything he told you is true.” She whispered, “I hope you don’t mind me taking the floor?”

Steve shook his head. He knew that he probably would have started doubting her if she hadn’t come to his rescue.

“And it’s Allison Kincaid now,” she said warmly. “I went back to my maiden name after the divorce.”

Joyce shook her head. “I told you not to marry that knucklehead, Ally.”

Allison giggled. “And you married Lonnie, darling. Pot meet kettle.”

Joyce laughed. “Fair!”

“I see you’ve made a significant upgrade, Joyce dear,” Allison teased, nodding to Hopper who blushed a deep red.

“I think we all made decisions in our youth that were bad,” Hopper said. “But they made us who we are and we wouldn’t have our kids without those mistakes.”

As all the adults looked fondly at their children.

Steve cleared his throat. “But you aren’t here for that sentimental bullshit, you’re here for a brand new pool, good food, and fun.”

Allison smacked his shoulder and then kissed his cheek again. She walked out with Mike, Lucas, and Dustin following her movements with their heads.

El just rolled her eyes.

“Go on, you menaces,” Steve said, shooing them toward the pool. Everyone stood up and rushed toward the back where Allison had gone, leaving behind Eddie and Steve.

“That could have gone better,” Steve sneered.

Eddie pulled him close. “They’re just looking out for you, sweetheart. I know it’s hard to see that right now when you’re still riding the high of getting her back after all this time. For you it’s a god damn miracle. For them it’s suspicious that she came back after you moved a rather large sum from the account your parents setup to one of your own.”

Steve snorted. “Oh that’s why Dad came home, no question.”

Eddie smiled and kissed the top of Steve’s head. “Good to see you’re not totally blinded by this whole thing.”

“If they had given me time to explain,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s chest, “that she was taking the money she got from Dad in the divorce and moving to Indy, maybe they wouldn’t have been so skeptical.”

Eddie held him tighter. That right there was the only reason that Wayne and he didn’t close ranks when she showed up on their doorstep. That she had deliberately stayed elsewhere, talked about the divorce in very specific terms, didn’t fawn herself over Steve. She approached Steve like she would a spooked deer and that’s why Eddie was team Allison.

“Let’s go party!” Eddie said with a grin.

Steve laughed and followed his boyfriend out to the pool.

If anyone still had doubts about Allison’s sincerity it vanished with how Joyce treated her.

Apparently they had run in the same circles in high school and easily fell back into the old grooves of their prior relationship.

Even Nancy and Mike were charmed by her by the time they left to go home.

Allison had pulled Nancy aside and talked her about being a mom and having a career and that it didn’t have to be an either or. That she could have roots and wings if she wanted. Allison admitted that she hadn’t done right by Steve the last few years but she had seen the good a right balance to bring to both mother and her children.

Allison loved talking with the Byers boys, really getting to know Joyce’s kids. El was a little shier with Allison, until the older woman had complimented her style and then El just opened up like a flower.

“It’s good for El to see other kinds of femininity,” Joyce said to Hopper later that evening. “That she doesn’t have to be one way or the other. She can like pretty clothes and still kick ass.”

Hopper chuckled. “She’ll definitely get that from Ally,” he agreed.

Dustin managed to get Allison away from El long enough to do his own talking her ear off. Steve smiled when she laughed brightly at something he told her.

Robin had settled into an easy relationship with her since they had gone house hunting together. Robin had come out to her and Allison was able to help her overcome some of her nerves of talking to pretty girls.

Erica got into a heated debate with her over the better fantasy series Lord of the Rings or The Chronicles of Narnia, one that Eddie was drawn into almost against his will.

Erica was for Narnia and Allison and Eddie were for the Shire and Middle Earth.

It really looked like Erica might win when Allison pulled out her best argument: the trouble with Susan. And Erica folded like a house of cards.

Steve laughed when Erica came to him pouting.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Steve asked her. “You went up against one of the best courtroom lawyers of her age.”

Erica made a face. “Then I’m going to become a lawyer and come back and win next time.”

“You be sure and tell her that,” Steve said, knowing his mother would be proud that she had inspired Erica in such a way.

Erica grinned up at him and ran off to just that.

The only one that seem to hang back was Lucas. So Steve went to go check on him.

“Hey, you okay?”

Lucas let out a huff. “How can you forgive her, man? Like I get she didn’t know, but she also wasn’t home. She could have spent time home with you, actually getting to know you instead of running around the world chasing your dad.”

“Ah.”

That was a fair question and Lucas deserved an honest answer. He pressed his lips together and then licked them. “It’s not easy. There is a big part of me that is so sure that once she’s in Indy she’ll forget I exist. Because you’re right. She didn’t have to rely on my dad for information, but she did anyway. So I guess it comes down to faith I guess.”

“That’s lame,” Lucas bit out. “You shouldn’t have to have faith that someone will love you.” He ran his hands over his face and sighed. “I don’t know, man. A big part of it is knowing that she’s paid to be charming and put people at ease. She wouldn’t be a good lawyer otherwise.”

Steve nodded. “I know. And it’s okay if you don’t like her. It’s okay if you don’t trust her. I’m not going to make you. But you won’t know for sure unless you get to know her.”

Lucas sighed again. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Steve chuckled and said, standing up, “She’s a Bulls fan. You can start there.” He winked at Lucas’s open-mouthed stare and walked back to the group.

The sun had gone down so people had gotten dressed and were now dancing underneath the stars to Eddie playing his guitar.

Turns out Eddie was pretty good at slow songs, too.

***

Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly @ravenpainter @nightmareglitter @dbquills

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

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smallestflowtree · 1 month

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SO more detail on the AU I mentioned yesterday which I am calling the Pavel girls AU for now, maybe a better name later if I think of one but knowing me I probably won't

Disclaimer: I LOVE HODARI I am just putting him back in the toy box for a bit so I can play with Leta instead for a while. Ok? Ok

Further disclaimer: I know we don't know much in canon about Leta so I'm veering probably quite far into OC territory here but it's okay I've given myself permission, this is my version of her and everyone else is obviously free to do as they wish, plenty of AU/OC space for everyone

Hodari finds Najuma first. He throws her clear of the cave-in; Leta finds her, frees her, takes her back to Kilima to get help, but by the time she returns with the other villagers it's too late.

Leaving Leta and Najuma.

Leta never considers going home. She's the inventor, so she makes Najuma her prosthetic leg fairly early on.

I like babies/children and I think there should be more of them so I wanted to add another Pavel child to this AU; my first thought was that Leta could be pregnant (early-on and maybe not know herself yet) when Hodari dies but the more I thought about it the more outright cruel it seemed, like that would be A LOT and I felt like I was being unnecessarily horrible to her. Also I liked the idea of the second child being a bit younger than that. So INSTEAD maybe about three years after the accident some kind of travelling merchant is visiting Kilima and runs into Leta in town, and invites himself round to see her later that evening; and she's lonely, and what's the harm? Najuma's asleep. And Leta works hard and she deserves a bit of fun and attention. Then a couple of weeks later once he's long gone she realises, oops. I like accidental pregnancy stories. Sorry Leta.

Anyway this is Saleni Pavel, she's five! She likes swimming and butterflies and telling long meandering stories that go on about five minutes too long. She definitely owns shoes and, if pressed, could tell you where at least one of them is. Her favourite person in the whole world is her big sister and she can very nearly do a handstand and wait, she'll show you. Wait. One more minute. She's going to do it this time. Okay let her try again

(sidenote: I do think of the Majiri as being overall quite sex-positive and we know they are polyamorous but it is interesting that all the children we see, and all the adults as far as we know, were born in (monogamous) wedlock. So I wonder who would be judgemental and who wouldn't)

Leta is a miner, but she's also an inventor and I think especially with two children it would make more sense for her to do more inventing, which would keep her closer to home more of the time. She's friends with Zeki so he could help her with licencing and selling her inventions. I think she'd go into the mines enough to get the materials she needs, and maybe enough to sell locally, but not as her primary means of supporting her family, and larger parts of the mines would be abandoned.

So bringing us to Najuma. Who would similarly not be allowed in the mines - it's not safe, especially when parts of it aren't checked/maintained. And there's no need - she's better off in every way as her mother's apprentice. But I think she'd feel just as drawn to them because of her father's death and wanting to continue his legacy.

And I like to think about Najuma as a big sister. How she'd feel about the fact that at least she knew her father, but that means she knows how it felt to lose him, which Saleni can't, and is that better or worse? And being fiercely protective of her but also having to look after her and getting frustrated and fed up, and also maybe frustrated because Saleni can run and swim and do things she can't with a prosthetic, but it isn't her fault, and teenage angst, and so forth, while also loving her to pieces and if you look at her wrong she will FIGHT YOU. You know, sibling stuff.

Leta in general I see as outgoing, friendly, and generally well-liked; not always as cautious as she should be with a tendency to rush in; rather hot-headed. Loses track of time when she's working on something. Very loyal and loves her daughters to distraction but they are also the people who drive her craziest.

That all I’m going to say today but I have MANY MORE THOUGHTS for other posts, including how I would add all this into the game and what I would change to make it all work and quests and schedules and all kinds of things, and if anyone cares at all then PLEASE reply or message me or something because I need. To get all the thoughts out. I can’t stop thinking about this AU help

#palia #pavel girls au #leta #najuma #being normal about the pavels again #ok I need to go to bed

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youngcollectedtired · 8 months

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!!!Across the spiderverse spoilers!!!

Okay I just watched the movie at home. I got to see it 4 times in theater and hopefully everyone’s seen it now. I’m just curious about everyone else’s theories. I’ve seen a lot of different good ones.

I’m mainly curious about what everyone thinks about Miguel, is he telling the truth? Who’s gonna die in the next movie? Any theories for how the next movies plot is gonna go? Any plot twists? Extra side points I could have missed to give me a hint in the movie.

I’m gonna just give a small rundown of what I think.

I don’t think any of the spiders are gonna die just for the simple fact that they’re not mentoring anyone or anything so if they do die (Gwen, hobie, pav, the whole band basically) who’s gonna replace them.

I do think Miguel has to die. He’s too far gone. Like he’s done some crazy stuff mannnn. How is he gonna go back to being good friendly neighborhood Spider-Man with not only a body count (I know Spider-Man’s killed before but mannnn he got like 100+ people on that list) but also morals that just won’t fit who he is anymore. Also side note: I know a little bout his background. How he’s not technically a Spider-Man and all that about alchemax but I never read the comics or played the video games myself.

I’m curious if he’s gonna die like realizing he was wrong or will he just die. Like maybe he’s killed protecting miles and he’s like “I’m sorry I was wrong” and then he dies. (I don’t want him to die because I love him and he deserves some chances but also like come on now)

I can’t wrap my head around Miguel being right as far as the multiverse goes. I feel like he’s partly right but something isn’t adding up. Miguel has to be getting his information from somewhere. And why would marvel admit to a multiverse with rules about innocent people who have to die because the story says so. While having Spider-Man the literal hero whos morals rest on being the friendly neighborhood hero and who helps the little guy at the center of this multiverse story. And we know Spider-Man isn’t just gonna let his people die right. SO LIKE WHATS THE PLAN???

I also know and agree with earth 42 miles being the prowler but not a bad guy. (I think they confirmed that) and this reminds of the fact that Miguel at one point said that there’s a world out there without a Spider-Man to save them but earth 42 miles did what he needed to do. He took care of his own okayyyy.

Also can we just talk about the fact that they’re admitting a spiderverse exists which admits to the Spider-Man heroes that they’re just stories. Which also just again points to the fact that we exist. Like is marvel ready for the heroes hypothetically to start asking “why does my life have to go this way?”

To top it all off. The third movie has at least three plots. First miles has to get away from or convince earth 42 miles to help him. Gwen and the others have to find miles. Then they gotta deal with Miguel in the mean time. And then also deal with spot. And figure out the truth behind the anomalies. That’s a lot of to do’s on the list.

With all of this in MY MIND IS BREAKING THINKING OF THESE POSSIBILITIES.

Anyways what are your thoughts? I hope I made sense. 🫡

#spiderverse 2 #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #prowler miles #miles morales #hobie brown #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman #into the spider verse #spiderverse spoilers #spider gwen #spider man 2099 #spider man atsv #spider man across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man

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coffeeviolinist · 1 year

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An Expansion on My Post From Yesterday aka Why Azusa Deserves Better

So yesterday, I made a post saying that I wish Gosho would give Azusa a little more character development because I feel like it's unfair to her that, for as long as she's been in the series (she debuted in episode 152), she hasn't been given much of a personality outside of being a friendly coffee shop girl. In this post, I'll expand a little more on why I feel like Azusa's character has been done a disservice.

Now, before I get started, I want to clarify that I don't think there's anything wrong with her being a friendly coffee shop girl, and I don't mind her in general. She's a kind, sweet woman, which makes her an easy character to like. At the same time, though, I also find it hard to get super attached to her for reasons I'll list below.

Number one, while I like the fact that she's a friendly coffee shop girl, I definitely wish that wasn't the only aspect of her personality that got any sort of major focus. We've seen flashes of Azusa having more to her than that, such as when she rebelled against the police when her brother was framed for murder, but Gosho hasn't done anything to expand on those aspects of her character. I'm not saying she needs to be a CIA spy or another detective or even involved with the BO in any way, but she deserves something more than what she's been given so far.

Another issue I have with Azusa's treatment is how Gosho basically treats her as if she's only semi-more important now because she's coworkers with Amuro. Here's what I mean by that.

Since her debut in episode 152 (1999), Azusa has appeared in the main anime a total of 27 times as of when I'm writing this post. In addition, out of those 27 appearances, 16 of them came after Amuro started working at Poirot with her. From episode 537 to 723, there was a four-year gap in which Azusa didn't appear in the anime at all, not even in the background of an episode. Considering she works literally one floor down from the Mouri detective agency, that seems a little off to me. Surely it wouldn't have been that hard for Gosho to at least acknowledge her existence during those four years.

Actually, if you want to get technical, Azusa has really only appeared in the anime 25 times because, in episodes 866-867, it wasn't even really her. It was Vermouth in disguise.

It also doesn't help that ever since Amuro started working at Poirot, Azusa's character has basically been relegated to being his coworker. Even though she's technically getting more spotlight than she used to, it's almost never really her that's getting the spotlight. It's more like Conan's getting Amuro's help with a case and Azusa just happens to be there. And that's literally all she does most of the time. She's just...there.

But even if Gosho can't think of anything for Azusa to do besides her usual job, then he could at least expand more on her relationships with other people in her life. We know that she has an older brother who she's literally willing to defy the police for, and according to ZTT, she's friends with Eri's assistant. Amuro is not the only important person in her life, but for some reason, whenever she makes an appearance now, it's almost always by virtue of being his coworker.

Maybe I'm reading too much into things, but it's almost as if Gosho doesn't actually care about Azusa even though she's one of the longest-recurring characters in the series. I honestly think that if Amuro hadn't gone to work at Poirot, we would have seen even less of Azusa than we already have.

So when I say I find her character hard to get too attached to, it's not because of anything she's done. It's because of what she hasn't done, or, more accurately, what she hasn't been allowed to do because Gosho won't let her do anything meaningful. Why? Who knows, really? Maybe he just doesn't care enough, maybe he's just terrible at writing female characters in general, or maybe she was supposed to be a self-insert for fans to project themselves onto, and giving her a very basic personality was the easiest way to achieve that. Whatever the case may be, it's very unfair to Azusa. She deserves better than the treatment she's gotten so far.

#detective conan #meitantei conan #enomoto azusa #amuro tooru #rant

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savythenillerwaffer · 11 months

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JUST KIDDING I DID IT ANYWAY-

Gamzee: Honesty couldn't explain this if I tried, but I will. I was initially pulled in by his craziness and design. I just want him to be happy and be an actual character instead of a plot device. F you, Hussie 🖕.

John: Just such a wholesome and jestful boi! He is a very friendly, supportive, understanding, and honest person, even when being actively harassed. His mischief is always harmless, and has nothing but good intentions and hopes for everybody. Overall, he is just a ray of sunshine that I(And arguably everyone else) need in my life in every way... EVERY WAY-

Dave: Makes me laugh so much, love his creativity with every inane sentence. Love that he tries to hide behind a cool kid mask. Buddy, I can see right through that shit to the sensitive, caring, troubled bro you are inside. And those shades are impeccable.

Karkat: Just a screamy lil guy, look at him go. Wait, that's the wrong guy-

Honestly, you know those people that you just look at and smile fondly while shaking your head, just because of how passionately themselves they are, no mather how ridiculous? In truth, I envy him in that way. People like that just fill me with giddiness and amazement. Knights are known for their ability to put up a front, but it doesn't fool me one bit. Anger = Passion, Passion = Caring, Caring = Love(In this instance at least). Karkat strives for what most of us also want; for out lives to be stable, and our friends to be happy and stable too. What's not to love about that?

Kanaya: LESBIAN BADASS ALIEN GIRL GO BRRRRRRRR(Literally... because of her chainsaw... hehe). She is basically the poster child for Virgo, how could I not? Her ancestor's design is just 👌💖. 10/10 nightlight. In all seriousness, Kanaya is just so loveable. She protects her friends, but knows when someone has gone too far and will be perfectly honest with them... or go Texas Chainsaw Massacre mode and fuck their shit up HARD. Very rational, but in some ways it only adds to her caringness and emotional depth. Mother friends are the best 😊.

Aranea: Haven't learned enough about her personality yet, but I like the nice Vriska. She is mostly just considered a likely favorite for now. But I can already tell that she will be very pleasant(Which is kind of a rarity). I already relate to her alot. We both ramble about ourselves and things we are passionate about, I definitely want to dress like her(Cosplay idea, maybe?), and we are both friends with an occasionally abrasive girl whome we are very close with.

Calliope: What can I say, I relate. She deserved better, Hussie >:(. She is just so sweet... like candy... *Hint hint*. For real, she cares so much about a happy ending for everyone, she deserved way better than to be killed off. Plus, being adorably british doesn't help.

Lil Hal: SHAAAAADES. Started as an ironic joke in my brain that his robot design was cute... then it became very not ironic. Also, voice acting is cool. I am a sucker for robots/AI characters, I just think they are so fascinating... *Looks at the entire Portal series while holding a knife to Valve's throat because I NEED MORE-*

Conclusion: Just make me laugh and/or be cutely nerdy, and you will win my heart.

#idk anymore #savy rambles #homestuck #asks #favorite characters #text post #favorite homestuck characters

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dangerously-human · 10 months

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💧, 🌩️, 🌧️ :) feel free to ignore any you don't have any more answers for, hehe

Oh, bestie, I have SO much to say about my WIPs, not even close to a worry about not enough answers to go around. I'm currently in a stage of trying to convince myself not to add more to the pile, lol, maybe try to finish at least one before taking on any more. Although... No, nope, shouldn't, shan't!

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

From an early chapter of the conversations with Jessica fic:

“You don’t really mind, do you? Oh, why do I even - who do I think I am, Marissa Fittes?” He ran an anxious hand through his hair, then frowned; he’d have to rearrange it before they left. Ideally before Lucy got back from her shopping. Funny, wasn’t it, how often they saw each other in pajamas and bedhead, yet it suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world for him to look his best before she got home. At the thought of his fingers brushing hers as he handed her the necklace, his heart skipped a beat. It was a feeling alarmingly similar to the sensation when he’d missed a step sprinting into a drippy basement on a case last week, tumbling down the bottom third of the staircase with rapier in hand, somehow landing wrong end up with Lucy scarcely managing to suppress a giggle as she helped him up. Her hand had been sort of dry and warm then, scraped and calloused, and he imagined it would probably be the same tonight, with the silver chain links pooling in her palm.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

I was going to save this bit from the Locklyle library fic, because it's the best bit and I wanted that to be a surprise for when I posted it or something, but I keep cackling about this one every time I read it and I think everyone else deserves to get some out-of-context joy from this too:

“Lockwood,” I interrupted, feeling distinctly as though something in the vicinity of my lungs was about to explode.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think you’ve skipped over something?”

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. I couldn’t find the words, so I sort of thrust my notably empty left hand in the air and wiggled it around helplessly.

“Oh.” He gestured at the sapphire necklace around my throat. “I did mention the undying devotion bit, didn’t I?”

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

More from the conversations with Jessica fic (which I swear is about equally as sweet and silly as it is tug-at-the-heartstrings!):

“Contrary to popular opinion, I do know what I’m doing sometimes. She can’t keep this up, these friendly chats with ghosts! It puts us all in jeopardy, Lucy most of all. You should have seen her last night, halfway to ghost-lock, utterly defenseless. She was just standing there, too far gone to even fight back…” A shudder gripped him. “She thinks it’s harmless, just testing the limits of her Talent, but, Jessica, the ghost nearly made it to her before I did. I couldn’t even save her; if it weren’t for Holly, she’d have fallen for sure. I can’t let her risk it again. Because I—” Lockwood clamped his mouth shut. There was a truth itching to get out that wasn’t fully formed yet, and he felt suddenly uneasy about what the others might overhear, even if they were two floors down readying themselves for the evening’s outing to the Chelsea containment zone.

#personal #writer probs: fanfic edition #lockwood & co

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year

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TW: sexual assault, death, I am still having a very bad couple of days

Thing I’ve learned about myself last night/today, for the first time: I genuinely think people who sexually assault teenagers deserve to die. I didn’t think that was true before. I thought, ever time I hear about someone doing something like that, that I wish lots of bad things on them, but not death. That’s going too far.

There is one person. On person, in my community, who is the worst person I know. He has horrifyingly abused a whole bunch of different people, all of them underage and especially vulnerable when he first gained control of them, and he fucked them up physically and psychologically in ways that last years and maybe a whole lifetime. Whenever anyone has ever tried to get in the way of this, he has ruthlessly attacked them, threatened every part of their life and livelihood, intimidated and manipulated and fucked with them in ways I couldn’t have even imagined until I saw him do it.

I have said, several times before, that I think I’d be happy if he died. I say this to illustrate how much worse he is even than all the other abusers I know, because I wouldn’t say that about them. Not literally. I hate them, I want them to face appropriate consequences, some should be in jail. I want them out of the community and away from other people. I want them to suffer. But if they died, I thought – if they literally died, I’d still feel at least a bit sad. Obviously. Because they’re people I know. When someone you know dies, you feel at least a bit bad about it no matter who they were. I don’t believe in the “never speak ill of the dead” thing, it doesn’t mean you pretend they were a great person. But you can say “This person was awful but they were still a person so I’m sorry they’re dead.” I thought that would be my reaction to the death of anyone I know except that one guy.

A guy I knew died a few weeks ago. I didn’t know him super well, but I was friendly with him at events and things, and I liked him. My initial reaction to his death was actually weird, because I thought I should feel sad but I actually didn’t feel much. I thought there was something wrong with me, that the pandemic had made me numb. It turns out it was just a delayed reaction. In the week after he died, I did end up feeling quite sad about it, in a way that I think one would expect for the unexpected death of a friendly acquaintance. I was actually relieved when those feelings started happening, because it meant I hadn’t gone completely cold. It just took a while to sink in, which is normal, with death.

I learned some new information about him yesterday, which puts that in a different light. I had, and still have, a lot of mixed emotions, like guilt for what I didn’t see right in front of me, regret for ways I could have helped if I had seen it, anger, so much blinding anger, disgust at all the times I was friendly and helpful to him, sorrow and pathos and empathy for a girl who waited so long for someone to figure out what was happening to her. But none of those emotions involve conflict about whether to be sad that he’s dead. I’m definitely not sad that he’s dead anymore.

And I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought that actual, literal death would be sad no matter who it happened to (except one guy, and that one guy is still alive). But no, I think he deserved to die. I think it’s good that he died. And I know a bunch of people, more than just that one guy, who have done as bad as or worse than him, and are still alive. So I guess this means I wouldn’t be sad if they died either.

That’s something I know about myself now. Some of my friends are feeling conflicted about it, struggling with the fact that what he did was terrible but it’s still sad that he died. I think I’m the only one who’s not struggling with that. It’s not the first time I’ve been different in that way – when our friend died last year, I asked some of my friends whether they’d found themselves thinking of all the people who deserved to die more than he did. I specifically mentioned our other friend, whom we’d cut out of our lives a while earlier because he’d tried to sleep with a teenager, and asked whether they wished he’d died instead. They all said no, thinking about that sort of thing was not part of their grieving process. Just me, then. Okay.

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NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 17

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: GAEL

As much as I feel deep shame about having to go into the corner to pee in the bucket that was finally provided for me after Tavarrat brought us some food and water, I must admit it feels a good deal better than just wetting myself because I couldn’t move. I spent a few extra minutes while I was squatting with my britches around my knees inspecting the state of my thighs, but thankfully while they’re still a little clammy they’re nowhere near as red as I expected, despite the chafing. Even so, as I hurriedly pull them back on after buttoning my drawers up, I find myself looking out around the room again, wary of being caught out even though I know we’re both alone in here. And da’s out again, hanging slumped where he was left before but now, at least, sitting a little more comfortably than before.

It’s another little mercy that Mallys came up with, while we were having our very guarded conversation about my friends, or at least what little I was willing to reveal. When Tavarrat returned with the food and water, she sent her off again to fetch the bucket and also the little stool he’s now perched on, taking at least a little of the weight from his arms now as he remains comprehensively lashed to the pipes. I couldn’t help it, I had to thank her for that too, it was a small gesture but it meant a lot.

We were almost becoming friendly, I think, even if I was working hard to keep it clear in my mind that this is not someone that I can trust in any capacity right now. And then she spoiled it by accidentally letting slip that one of her people might have killed Thelgaewynn during the fight after they took me captive … I blew up, I was so angry, but more than that I was horrified, this bare-faced reminder that she really is my enemy, that they all are, that they’ve been hired to murder every one of my friends, and that eventually they’ll murder me too, most likely. I called her a conceited, two-faced bitch who deserved to fry in a thousand hells for the rest of time for having any kind of part at all in that, and I’m sure I called her much worse things too, I can’t really be sure. After that it got a whole lot more fuzzy. She left soon after, but by that point I barely noticed.

No, I was curled up in the other corner, my arms wrapped around my head while I wept like a baby. Fuck … Thel … I mean I didn’t know her yet, not really, but … no, I think I knew her enough, at least. Enough to like her, I really did, and now … well no, once I got myself under control it was mostly through reminding myself that, honestly, she never actually said that they definitely killed her, she didn’t know herself, that they were already gone before her friend could know for sure, she was just really hurt. Enough to kill her, but still … no, I don’t believe it, that dwarf is too fucking tough to die like that, I know she is. Or maybe I’m just trying really hard to convince myself of the fact …

Buckling my belt, I let my tunic settle back over it and take a quick step away from the bucket, uncomfortably mindful that it smells no better than I did last night. Worse is that it was never actually made clear if anyone’s actually going to come and collect it at some point to empty it out, or if it’s just going to stink the place out further as I have to keep topping it up. Or perhaps Vandryss might devise something even worse for it when she comes back. Oh for the love of Minerva, Gael, why do you have to put those kinds of thoughts in your head in the first place?

Moving as far across the room as I can from the bucket now, I plant myself against the wall and take a long moment to stretch my arms, then each of my legs one at a time. Making the most of my relative freedom while I have it, uncomfortably aware of what they plan on doing with me, sooner of later. I’ve still got a whole lot of chains hanging from the shackles locked around my limbs and throat, but for now, at least, I’m otherwise largely unrestricted. Although with the door locked it doesn’t really mean a whole lot.

Like a glutton for punishment, the first thing I did once I was in a state to actually use my newfound good fortune, such as it is, was try to weave a sigil, hoping against hope that perhaps Tavarrat might have made a mistake with her work after all. A glyph inscribed wrong, perhaps, a small but important portion of spell-binding overlooked or fudged without being caught first. Tiny niggles, perhaps, but enough to create a chink that I could exploit, anything that might allow me to use just a sliver of my magic. Nothing happened. As if I really expected anything else.

Frustrated with that inevitability, I instead planted myself against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to send a message to Lady Sulin Naru instead. That didn’t get through, any more than my subsequent attempt to contact Tulen. I started crying again at that, but stopped myself quickly, growing quite furious with myself for getting so upset over something which is entirely out of my control. Fucking Vandryss and her pet witch put me in this position, and I have to find another way to get myself out of it.

So I spent the next ten minutes going over the room, checking everything I found. Not that there’s much here – stacked chairs and odd boxes, but they’re nailed shut too tight for me to be able to check the contents, and I doubt they’d leave me alone with them if there was any real chance I could actually use anything in here to escape. The only other things of any real note in here are the pipes da’s chained to, but while they’re broad and sturdy there doesn’t seem to be anything running through them, at least right now. None of them are warm to the touch, nothing’s leaking out of them, they’re just there. Cold and implacable. Waiting for me to join him, like an uncomfortable but inevitable promise …

I would have liked to at least talk with him, but since we’ve been left alone he’s just passed out again, still tired from his treatment, probably, and made all the more sleepy after finally being fed and watered. I haven’t the heart to wake him, I’d much rather just let him sleep, he needs it after what’s been done to him. To be honest I have half a mind to follow his example, catch up on my own rest while I can, but I’m wary to close my eyes right now, not while I have to do something, anything, whatever I can to get out of here, however futile.

Finally I push myself away from the wall and move to the other side, pulling one of the chairs down and carrying it close to my father before setting it down and dropping into it. I let the chains drop without ceremony and they’re a little louder than I’d like, but when I look to him he doesn’t stir. I breathe a sigh of relief and sit forward, letting my wrists rest across my knees as I turn to ponder the room in general, and that door in particular.

In spite of the restrictions, I still reach out with my senses, quieting my mind by smooth, subtle increments as I concentrate entirely on the door and whatever must be beyond. The corridor and the other cells and … whoever’s out there. My breathing slows, my limbs becoming strangely light despite the chains weighing them down, my body becoming increasingly insubstantial to me as the moments tick by, as I recede into my mind while still reaching out. My focus remains stubbornly fixed on the door, never leaving it, I let myself blink without consciously thinking about it but leave my lower mind to handle that business now as I let myself drift away through what I can see, what I can hear, what I can now feel.

But even though the drift begins, it fails to pierce the cold, solid barrier of the door. I become unnervingly aware of it, every inch of its surface, every nail and screw in the boards and banded iron, even of the many locks, although only the one slipped at this time. Locking me in, of course, but only so much as they need to prevent me from wandering, otherwise powerless as I am now. This door … I know everything about it already, where the weak spots are, that the top hinge is rusting some and that a particularly heavy boot could probably take it down with a single kick, that the locks have been changed three time since it was put in. That the latest collection are all very new, installed barely three months ago, and all in the same sitting. Not that I have to surmise why that was, of course …

And yet, no matter how hard I push, I just can’t get beyond it, either through my feelings or my hearing, no matter how much augmentation I might be able to scrape together from the pitiful dregs I actually have at my disposal. Presented with the first solid obstacle, any attempt at anything beyond the simplest, most pathetically simple cantrip falls down flat. Damn it … these fetters really are too bloody strong.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, I throw my arms a little and the chains give a louder clanking clatter, but I just let it happen this time, simply sitting back now so I can slouch into the chait, hands hanging between my legs while I just wallow. Damn it … fucking … gods, what the fuck am I supposed to do about any of this? I have no power, no weapons, I’m trapped in a place my enemies can gain uncomfortably easy access to, and my friends have no idea where the bloody hell I am. I can’t even hold out much of any hope that either Tulen or Lady Naru could get in contact with me, since I’m sure Tavarrat will have thought about that ahead of time and simply deadened the whole place. It wouldn’t even have been particularly difficult for her, I was learning to do spells like that in my first year at the Academy.

Besides, even if they could reach me, I doubt I could actually respond thanks to the collar. It’s all I can do now not to just reach up and start yanking at it, try to pull it off even though I know there’s not the slightest hope I could actually manage it. It’s not a matter of not being strong enough, this thing is far beyond mortal might. Only magic can break these bonds. So I just stay as I am, glaring daggers at absolutely nothing, my shameful, ineffectual fury wasted on empty air.

Then I hear da start to stir again, the subtle clinking of his chains announcing his shifting as he lets out a low, muddled grunt of his own and starts to sit up, his bonds producing even more noise now. Then he lets a coughing groan go, and then there’s a sudden clatter as he must jump, coming to himself now and realising he’s trapped, fuzzy for a few moments before he finally remembers what’s actually been going on. I sit up as soon as I hear this, turning enough to be able to turn sidelong to him, gripping both my hands together in my lap now as I watch him blink his one good eye while the other barely opens a slit under the swelling, and he turns his head my way. Even so, he takes long seconds to focus enough to actually see me, and then he almost sobs. Like he forgot.

“Oh … oh … I’m sorry, my dear. I’m … oh, my mind is just … I’m so much less than I should be, I don’t … I’m …”

“Da, it’s okay, don’t torment yourself, I understand. You’ve been through so much, I’m sure I would be the same after … I don’t even know how long you’ve been here. I can only just keep track of how long I’ve been here, and it’s been …” I falter as I go through in my head how long it might have been since I first work up in here. “Shit … a couple of days now, I think. Well, maybe more …”

“No, Gael, I’m … I really am sorry. I wish you weren’t here. I mean … no, I mean there’s a part of me that is glad you’re here, it is wonderful to see you again, despite the circumstances, but … no, I would rather you weren’t. at least not trapped here with me. I wish you were out there, with your friends …”

“So do I, believe me …” I mutter that, mostly just to myself, giving the door another dark, frustrated hard stare now. “But they’ll be looking for me. For both of us, like we were searching for you before. Kesla won’t give up, no matter what they throw at her. She’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, it’s one of her best qualities.”

“I remember …” He chuckles a little, and while his smile’s weak it still feels sincere. “You mentioned that, more than once … in your letters. You’re very fond of her.”

“You’d definitely like her. And the others. Even Art …” I falter at his name, I don’t know why but I do … something hurts inside me saying it, because it brings up something unbidden. Some dark, dread idea I’m so scared to admit, realising I might never get to see him again. That something horrible might already have happened to him and I wouldn’t know anything about it. But … no, wouldn’t I? Somehow I don’t think that would be so simple …

“You like him, too. The bakaneko. You haven’t written about him as much, but … I think there might be a reason for that.”

“What? I don’t …” I stop myself, just giving him a close look now, but he’s still smiling that sad little smile of his. There’s a wistfulness in his eye now, it’s a strange thing to see under present circumstances. I have no idea what that’s even about.

He doesn’t press, though, and after I remain silent for another moment he looks down again. He coughs a little, and I wish they’d actually left the water jug in here, or at least the cup, with some more water in it. For him, for later. Instead all I can do is just watch him suffer, and it hurts me deeply. “”Are you … oh shit … I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can –”

“No … I’m all right … enough, at least.” He clears his throat, taking a good long time doing it, and finally sits forward as much as he can before spitting onto the floor in front of him. The results are not pretty, it’s a thick, phlegmy wad that splatters onto the thin carpet, and there’s some blood in it too which distresses me even more, my throat tightening just seeing it. But he coughs again, a little wetter, and somehow it manages to sound almost relieved. “Oh … no, don’t worry about me. I’ve lived through …” He chuckles again, grim as before. “Fuck … no, I really can’t say I have actually been through worse than this, this would be my lowest point to date.”

“No, surely …” I sit forward now as I give him a sharp sidelong look, dr9opping my voice to a whisper. “I heard you died. Twice. This can’t be worse than that.”

His smile fades now, replaced with a much more curious look, and he studies me for a long beat. “But who could have … no-one at the Citadel would know about that, except perhaps Arrhetel. But she would never have told you about that …”

“There’s someone else with us now. Someone you know. Someone powerful.” Suddenly I’m uncomfortably aware that we’re in a hostile place, and I can’t put it past Tavarrat to have put some means of listening in on our conversations into operation in here. I don’t want to reveal anything that I haven’t already potentially let slip to Mallys.

“Another wizard? Or not …” He frowns, looking down as he must ponder the possibilities. The fact it takes him so long makes me think there must be a lot of acquaintances to go through. Finally when he looks up he just looks confused. “No, I can’t think who that might even be …”

“Someone close. You know her extremely well, and have done for a long time, I think. She’s … well, she’s very unusual. Perhaps unique. I’ve certainly never met anyone like her.”

Again he just watches me, still pondering, then something seems to dawn on him, and he looks away quickly, a very complicated expression crossing his face. I have no idea what to make of it, it seems almost … quilty? “Su? You met … is she here? In Untermer?”

I almost don’t answer him, I’m still desperately trying to work out what he could possibly actually mean by that look, the way he asked that question. It seems like I’ve shaken him to his core with this revelation, but I don’t understand why. “I don’t … I thought you were friends. She said you are. Very good friends.”

“We are. Of course we are. She’s one of my very best.” He lets a particularly heavy sigh go as he looks up at me again, and his face seems softer now, at least as much as it can in its current state. “I’m glad she’s here, that she’s helping. She’s … she’s like your friend Kesla, in some very particular ways. Certainly she’s every bit as stubborn. She won’t back down either.”

“She’s kind of amazing, actually.” I feel my face immediately start to flush as soon as I say it, I really didn’t intend to just blurt it out like that. But he just smiles, incredibly fondly, I realise.

“Minerva, yes. She is that …” He looks down, sighing, and doesn’t speak again for a while. Then, when he looks up again the smile’s gone, and suddenly he’s so serious I’m almost alarmed. “Yes, of course. Gael, there’s something I need to tell you, about her. About who she really is. She’s –”

That ratchetting sound in the lock stops him dead, his eyes instantly going wide as I feel my heart jump in my chest and my stomach clench, every inch of me going icy cold while my throat almost seems to close. The instant fear that grips me must hit him as hard as he also visibly stiffens, his twisted fingers twitching ineffectually as I’m sure he wishes he could curl them around the chains to pull himself a little more upright. Then the key finally turns in the lock, and again the door sticks for a moment before it’s roughly shoved open, and I’m sure that bad hinge must give just a little more in the process …

And she walks in. Hell, not even a walk, she’s stalking in, fast and powerful and dangerous, driven by dread purpose now as she makes a beeline right for me. She looks … oh fuck, I don’t think I’ve seen her looking this angry before. Her eyes are on fire now, I realise, the green genuinely glowing now, actually lighting the room a little brighter with an uncomfortably baleful flickering glow. I catch a glimpse of Tavarrat slipping into the room after her and pushing the door to, but not closing it entirely this time, and for just a second I wonder if maybe I could risk trying to run past Vandryss before she reaches me, if I could get past the rogue wizard too. Somehow escape while there’s just that tiniest sliver of a chance.

Except there’s no chance of that actually really working, I’ve seen how fast this … woman is, as well as how strong she is. I know I wouldn’t make it past her, and she might kill me right there, might not be able to stop herself. She feels like just the type who would chase down and murder someone just because they were running away.

But the look on her face … gods help me, she looks ready to kill right now. Maybe I should run anyway, maybe it wouldn’t actually make any real difference but this feels like death bearing right down on me.

Da certainly picks up on it, I hear him straining against the chains again as he snarls: “No! Stop it! I fucking told you! You leave them alone!”

Vandryss doesn’t even acknowledge him as she takes the last big, striding steps up to me, it’s like she doesn’t even hear him, she’s so focused on me. And she doesn’t stop once she’s close either, she comes right up to me, so I’ve already started to get up, actually falling a little over the chair in my haste as she reaches me.

Her expression doesn’t change at all as she shoots both hands out at once and clamps them around my throat, instantly starting to choke me as she lifts me up at least as much as our height difference can actually manage. In the end my toes are dangling bare inches above the floor, I think, and as I strangle they start kicking mostly of their own accord while my hands immediately go to her wrists, desperately grasping as I try to pull free. It's no more successful than trying to pry away the cold enchanted steel of my collar …

I can hear my father screaming at her now, and just about make out the words, but my head’s already filling with that white noise as I choke and twitch and claw for breath that just can’t come, the heat rising fast as I feel my brain starting to cook. Like before, I’m already losing focus on much of anything besides the woman strangling me and her baleful hot stare, but I can just make out Tavarrat walking up behind her, although she’s taking her damn time about it now. Like she’s not particularly bothered by what’s happening now. When I do finally get enough of a look at her face to actually see her expression it’s worrying enough, she seems almost as angry as Vandryss, I think, and I realise there won’t be any help there, not this time. She doesn’t care what this monstrous bitch does to me right now.

As it gets worse, I start thrashing more, my body burning more energy even as it’s starving for air, reacting largely on its own now as my survival instinct truly kicks in. I stop trying to pry her hands from my throat and just start battering at her arms, desperately trying to break her hold, but this doesn’t work so I become more wild with my swings, some just flailing wide as I start to lose focus but a few hitting home. One fist cracks her across the face but she barely even twitches, certainly it’s like she didn’t even notice I hit her, she just narrows her eyes a little more and tightens her grip even more, and I feel something start to crack a little, deep in my neck, I think. I let out a gasping shriek but it doesn’t reach my mouth because there’s no air left in my lungs, all I manage to get out is a wretched rattling gurgle. And now my vision’s narrowed to little more than a tight tunnel of thick, grasping lines of inky darkness, and all I can see in the light at the end of it is her face, seeming so far away now. Worse, it's been long indeed since I actually heard anything beside the great heavy throb of rushing noise in my head …

It's possible I genuinely black out for a moment or two, I can’t really be sure, but I think there must be a beat or more of empty darkness and nothing else before I crash down on the floor in a sprawling tangle of watery noodle limbs. There’s a beat where I just lie in something of a semi-twilit daze, but then the urge to breathe again becomes too great and I start coughing, great stabbing cold knives in my horribly tortured throat while I use ever inward breath to drag in any air at all. I go on like this for a long time, curling up into myself like a wilting flower while I just cough and gulp, over and over again, each breath coming with a painful whooping sound and a great spasm of my curling back. It takes me a long time to muster enough strength to just move my arms enough to bring my hands to my throat, and when I finally touch the skin above the collar it stings, the flesh is so sore, telling me she wrung me out like a wet towel.

After another minute or two I’m finally able to blink the tears out of my eyes enough to look up at her, hunched with her arms now hanging slack as she towers over me, her whole upper body seeming to roll as she breathes heavily, and she still looks completely furious. Still very ready to kill me, which makes it all the more unfathomable that she actually let go.

“Fuck …” I just barely manage to spit out, my voice even worse than it was when I finally got that bloody gag out of my mouth, just a dry, broken gravelly whisper now, and every word produces another stab of ice cold, razor sharp steel in my larynx. “What is it … with you … that you … have to keep … strangling me? Some kind of … kinky thing?”

Her whole face tightens into a snarl of pure rage now as she steps forward and, without any preamble at all, kicks me in the stomach. Fuck, it’s like I’ve just taken a broadside hit from a swinging battering ram in my midsection, it’s instant agony and I double over into full foetal position even as I feel myself slide a few feet across the floor from the force of it. Da starts screaming at her as loud as he can, but mostly I just hear her now, even though she’s speaking in a low, primed growl as she starts to approach me again.

“That’s it, make fucking jokes, it’s all so fucking funny. Your friends thing they’re so bloody special, don’t they? That they’re masters of their world, that they can do anything they please. It’s fucking hilarious, it really is.”

“What …” I cough immediately, losing the thread of my words as I spit up blood, a great dark glob of it right on the floor in front of me, while I’m gripping my stomach as tight as I dare even though it feels like it’s on fire, it feels like she’s burst my guts wide open. “What did … what did they do?”

“Your friends raided Orric’s tavern.” Tavarrat speaks up at last, her voice a low, bitter hiss now, as full of hatred as her face. “They just busted in and killed half of his people that were in there, took a few prisoners and chased the rest away. And they killed …” Her voice breaks now, a touch of grief reaching her face as her lip wobbles. “They killed Gran. Fucking murdered him, on the spot.”

Gran? I have to scramble for a long moment to remember, it’s all I can do to keep one thought in my head now with the pain blazing in the middle of me, even worse than my torn, splinter-filled throat now, so it takes me a good while to recall who that name even belongs to. The orc, the bloody huge one, I saw him last week, in the alley. That was his name, Granzun. He used to be Art’s friend, once upon a time. Before things went terribly wrong for him and he lost his way, ended up with these people. I remember now, he damn near killed me.

He got what was coming to him, surely. I know my friends better than that, there’s no way they would really have just killed him in cold blood, it had to have been in battle. He must have been quite the threat, I don’t doubt it took several of my friends to kill him. I wonder who did it, Kesla? Shay? Maybe Art? Gods … honestly, I hope it wasn’t him, that would surely have been a terrible thing for him to have to do, I can’t imagine what he’d be feeling after taking the life of his one-time friend …

But I can’t say any of this, they really would murder me on the spot. As it is I’m very scared they’re both going to kill me anyway, the way they’re looking at me right now. Tavarrat looks as fervent about it as Vandryss.

The only reason they haven’t is because there’s that slim little thing that’s keeping them both in check, the fact that they need me alive, just like da. They can’t kill me, at least not right now, not while there’s even the slightest chance I might still be useful to them. The moment that changes they’ll slit both our throats and make sure our bodies are never found, just to make damn sure it never gets back to the Silver Order how it happened, or by whose hands. Until then they have to keep me alive, and my father to. But that doesn’t mean they can’t still hurt me, and that fact gives me a cold, fearful feeling deep down just above where that horrible ruptured pain is settled in my stomach.

Before I could say anything anyway in my defence another spasming cough comes up and I spit out more fresh blood, and this time it scares me even more, there’s so much of it. The room gets very quiet after that, even da stops his tirade, I can’t even hear Vandryss’ angry panting any more as she stares at the splash of blood just short of her feet. Suddenly her face is a whole lot more complicated, much more wary, as if the realisation of what she’s just done finally hits, just a little too late. And then, just for a second, there’s something even more strange. She almost looks hungry, and that scares me worse than anything.

“What the fuck … oh you fucking BITCH!!!”

Vandryss has barely turned around to face the speaker when she’s actually picked bodily up off the floor in two powerfully strong, lithe arms and slammed hard into the wall with enough force to drive the air clean out of her in a bellow’s wheeze. Tavarrat’s so completely taken by surprise she just stands by, struck dumb, as Dramrath Mallys pins her colleague a clear two feet up off the floor.

“I fucking told you to cut that shit out! Leave her be, you’ve already half killed her, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

All Vandryss can do for the first few moments is stare back down at her, she’s as surprised as the wizard was. Her eyes are wide now, her face almost comically open, and perhaps there’s just the slightest trace of actual fear in her, at least for a split second, before she starts to claw her composure back. Her eyes narrow quick, her lips drawing back in a snarl, but while her fingers start to curl into claws she really can’t do much of anything given the way she’s been pinned by her outstretched upper arms. She may be a hell of a lot more powerful than she looks, but right now she’s weak as a kitten at the mercy of the much larger, far stronger dragonhalf.

“You best put me down now, before you make things much worse for yourself.” Her voice is almost indecently calm and level as she purrs her response.

Tavarrat finally gathers herself to start approaching Mallys now, but she freezes instantly when a very long blade indeed is put to her throat. Perhaps it was simply the pain still burning through me, or maybe just some pitifully small thrill from finally getting to see Vandryss made to look so very pathetic, but I entirely missed the arrival of the second person who must have followed the mercenary into the room. I don’t recognise her, but she’s striking enough I can’t help looking at her now.

The sword she’s holding out in one hand with unwavering steadiness is so ridiculously oversized I’m a little amazed she’s able to actually wield it so deftly, altogether it might be as long as she is tall. She’s a hobgoblin, I realise, but only half of one, like Shul Mivzida, of Minerva’s temple, although in truth they couldn’t be any more different. She’s a good deal younger, for one thing, from the look of her I doubt she’s any older than I am, and very pretty in a slightly feral way. She’s quite diminutive, but there seems to be some steel in her all the same, something about the ease of her stance tells me she’s as much of a warrior as her friend and can clearly handle herself.

In truth, now I’m looking at her I’m sure she’s a cleric, although a very different one from Krakka. She’s dressed all in black, and the mantle of her cloak, clearly made of black raven feathers, is all the indicator I need of her patron – she serves Corvina, the Raven Queen, the goddess of death. Honestly, she seems just the kind of holy woman I would have expected to find in the company of Dramrath Mallys, although in most every other way she’s not at all what I would have expected of one of the Queen’s clerics.

“Please, don’t. That would be most foolish.” Her accent is rich and thick, very exotic to my ears, but also alarmingly familiar, and almost immediately I recognise that it’s much the same as Thel’s. She’s from Abharet, probably the very same region.

“Stay out of this, Mallys. Both of you.” Vandryss continues to purr in her unsettlingly gentle tone, very much at odds with the cold, lethal look she’s giving the woman holding her up. “This is not your business, it’s between us and this little … wretch. Her friends have stirred up even more fucking trouble for us, and now one of ours is dead because of it. I promise you I won’t kill her, but once I’m through she’ll fucking well wish I had. Even her own father wouldn’t recognise her after, and he’ll see what I do to her.”

Mallys’ eyes narrow too, but she’s just cold now, her own fury very much under her control too. “I don’t care if her friends did do whatever has you so hot, this child has been here all this time, very much at your mercy, so they have had no hand at all in the death of your friend. You have no right to brutalise them, and I swear if you raise one finger to further harm them over this I will fucking end you right here and now. The pair of you.”

The demon woman’s eyes narrow further, barely slits now, and they almost seem brighter because of it. For the first time the anger returns to her voice as she growls, slow and steady: “Put … me … down.”

“Just get out of here, Vandryss. Right fucking now. I don’t care what arrangement there is between us, your employers, mine, any of it. I am not fucking playing right now.” Mallys stares her down for another long beat, then steps back and, before her captive quite realises what’s happening, tosses her roughly over her head to land hard and go sprawling. The surprise is so complete that she doesn’t catch herself until she stops rolling, only then finally managing to regain her feet.

She comes back right away, starting a charge while her hands go to her sword, one bracing the scabbard while the other grasps the hilt and starts to draw. But the dragonhalf’s already ahead of her, her blade out in a flash I don’t even see, it’s so swift, and Vandryss barely manages to stop herself in time to keep from getting impaled on the bastard sword’s point. Again her eyes are wide, but with quiet rage this time as she holds very still barely short of that wicked blade.

“Just give me a fucking excuse.” When the mercenary growls these words, little wisps of smoke spill out of her mouth, dancing with tiny hot embers. “Please.”

Vandryss watches her for a very long time with her face still boiling with hot rage even though there’s not so much as a smudge of colour in it. Mallys, meanwhile, just holds her perfect guard, her own sword not wavering any more than her companion’s, and every inch of her is a promise of brutal violence should she be tested. Finally her intended opponent just takes a long step back and takes both hands off her sword, backing towards the door now so she can keep her fixed in sight the whole way. When she speaks her voice is nothing but a feral hiss, full of such potent venom that it would kill if mere words could wound.

“Gran’s dead because you keep failing to do the job you and your band of useless idiots have been hired for. Just pull your fist out of this little bitch’s arse and get it done. I won’t remind you again.”

She’s gone without another word, and now, finally, the half-hob lets her sword relax, just an inch. Enough to let Tavarrat relax, and she follows her compatriot’s example now, backing away with big, exaggerated steps as she mostly feels her way to the door so she can keep close track of that unnervingly large blade. The cleric watches her go without moving, only relaxing when the door finally closes behind her without the lock turning this time, and turns to look at Mallys. “Are we good?”

Sheathing her sword, the dragonhalf just growls low under her breath. She’s still watching the door, a bitter frown on her face as she curls her now free hands into tight fists, but I can’t stop the new cough I’ve been fighting to hold in any longer, and as I vomit even more blood she finally turns to me. Her face changes instantly, and it surprises me. Honestly, I definitely got the impressive she was starting to like me when we talked before, but even so I’m a little taken aback to see her so alarmed and genuinely worried now as she drops into a low crouch beside me now. “Shit … get over here! Now!”

The cleric sheathes her sword with a scabbard she’s scraped up from where she must have tossed it onto the floor when she came in, and she comes immediately as she’s summoned. She has a much calmer look on her face, I notice, a cool businesslike expression I instantly recognise from Krakka and Shul both, which is no surprise at all to see as she reaches me in three big strides and immediately settles onto her knees. She keeps her sword tightly gripped in one hand as she reaches out for me, the other going straight to my belly as I shake and shudder on the floor.

“Help them …” I hear da croaking with his ruined voice, tired from yelling but desperate all the same. “Minerva, please … help them!”

“How is it?” Mallys asks the cleric, her tone similarly urgent.

The half-hob just gently probes, clearly mindful as I wince at the very careful contact she makes, and frowns a little now as she mutters something under her breath that I can’t catch. I doubt it was intended for anyone, anyway, more likely it was an entreaty to her own goddess, using her imbued sight as much as her training to inspect my wounds. Finally she sucks in a tight breath through her teeth, her frown darkening somewhat. “It’s not good. She hurt them very much. I don’t think her stomach’s quite ruptured, but there’s some very serious damage all the same. This will take some work.”

“Well do it. I won’t have this poor kid die because of that evil bitch.” Mallys sighs heavily as she grimaces, looking up over me now as I realise she must be regarding my father, but she looks down again quickly. Unable to meet his eyes, I think. She tries with me, and manages a little better this time, but still looks pretty guilty all the same. “I’m so sorry for that. This was entirely uncalled for. I swear, this was not my intention when …”

“When what …” I really have to fight to spit the words out, every one of them hurts now. “When you … gave me up to … her? You should have … thought about that … before.”

She rocks back onto her heels, looking away from me again, and brushes both her hands up through her loose hair in a gesture that reminds me very much of Kesla. She just looks so frustrated right now, I almost regret being so short with her. “Yes, well there’s nothing that can be done about that now, the damage is done. I’m just trying to make the best of a very bad situation here, I have my own people to look out for now.”

The cleric’s removed her hand from my stomach, now slipping off her fine kid leather gloves and carefully folding them up before stuffing them into her robe. Taking a deep breath, she starts to rub her now bare hands together in a gesture I immediately recognise from Krakka as she begins to mutter low under her breath just as I would have expected, calling on Corvina to grant her the power to heal me. I wonder how this magic will feel compared to that of Serena, or my own patron, Minerva. Each has its own flavour, I’ve found, so as much as this hurts I find myself somewhat curious to find out.

But right now … aside from the pain, mostly I’m just tired, I think. Fed up of all of this nonsense. I’m still in deep shit, whether I’ve suddenly found myself under the dubious protection of this strangely principled killer and her exceedingly odd friend or not. The beating Vandryss just gave me is indication enough that regardless of what she says right now, I’m clearly living on borrowed time.

So I just spit again, more purposeful this time, but it’s still bloody, and let my head settle on the floor, looking away from her now. “To hell with it, I say. Do what you will … it doesn’t really matter. You’re going to do … what you were hired to do … go back out and try to … hunt down and kill … my friends. Whether you succeed or not … I’m still stuck here … waiting on a … pretty fucking ugly fate. So If you don’t mind … I’d rather you just … left me alone.”

The silence that follows, with the exception of the cleric’s continued low prayer, is very loaded, Mallys surely troubled by my words, but I’m fully prepared to let them stand. I won’t let her off for this, not after what they’ve already done. Especially not for Thel.

Then she stands up again, grunting a little as she does so, but more from resigned frustration, I think, than any real effort. She starts to move off, but stops, and I can certainly feel her pondering long as she decides whether to speak after all or not. Finally she lets another heavy sigh go as she mutters: “For what little it’s worth, it turns out we were wrong before after all. Trouble didn’t kill your friend after all. From what we saw earlier she’s up and about again after all.” She takes a couple of steps away, then I hear her take one of the chairs down and walk some more before finally settling down.

When I finally raise my head enough to look I see she’s planted the chair near to the door, sitting so she’s mostly looking towards it now, almost as if she’s guarding it. That being said, I think she’s doing this as much so she doesn’t have to look at me right now.

I hold my tongue, even though I’m tempted to speak now, this news is … gods, it’s a small relief perhaps, but I’m bloody glad to hear it all the same. It’s a weight off my mind, at least. But even so, I’m still too angry to let this make me forget what has been done to me and mine since this started, so I stay silent, letting my head settle again as I wait for whatever’s next.

Finally the cleric finishes her litany and sits forward, placing one hand on my stomach while she rests the other one very gently on my throat. At first the contact of both stings as bad as ever, but almost immediately I feel something much stronger, radiating from her hands. Not a great, spreading warmth, like I would have expected from Krakka, this is more of a strangely soothing chill, like ice that somehow doesn’t freeze with its touch. It’s oddly comforting, but if it is working it’s doing it slowly, the pain still persisting strong enough for now.

Then again, she did say this would probably take a little while …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 4 chapter 17 #original fiction #fantasy fiction #original fantasy fiction

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determinedwriter · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023: Day 12: Insomnia

Whumptober 2023: Day 12: Insomnia (Continued from yesterday's part)

Help doesn’t come the way I hoped it would. Nobody comes for us and I’m left to care for Peter who only gets worse. What am I going to do if help doesn’t come soon? Will I be able to keep him alive?

I’m scared I won’t be good enough to keep the one I love safe. And I truly, deeply love Peter Parker—more than a high school sweetheart. I know in my heart that it’s so much more than that. It’s a bond like nothing else.

I watch him all night as he sleeps, not able to bring myself to get some shut-eye like he is. I’m afraid he might never wake up, but I stop myself from waking him. He needs rest to heal, I think. I’m not sure what else to do.

Looking down at the sweet, sleeping boy, my heart swells. I can’t lose him. I wish I were the one in his position. He’s the last person who deserves this. I should tell him how much I adore him. I should. I-

“Ro?” He mumbles.

“Hey, Pete,” I reply softly.

Even with all of the pain he’s clearly in, he grins at me and asks about how I’m doing before worrying about himself. “You know, you can still leave if-“

I glare at him. “Don’t do this.”

Peter backs down. “I’m sorry. I just want you to be safe.”

“I know that.” I snap.

He shuts up and I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.”

“What about your arm?” He questions.

I look at my arm that I’ve now put in a sling made from my flannel over my shirt. “I’m fine. It hurts, but I’ll live.”

“It looks broken.” He replies, echoing the same sentiment as yesterday when we got into this mess.

“I don’t know if it is or if it isn’t. All that matters is you.” I say.

“Ro, that’s not true. You need help.” Peter argues.

“You can’t walk. I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not, mister.” I counter. “No ifs ands or buts about it.”

He shuts his eyes and exhales. “You should at least get some sleep.”

I don’t mean to be uncooperative, but I can tell I’m testing his patience. “I can’t. I have to look after you. The guys that blew up the bus and set the trap could come and hurt us.”

Peter frowns. “I don’t want to be the reason you die. I can’t lose you. Especially not because of my own mistakes. I ran into the woods without a second thought and now you’re dealing with it.”

“Peter, you ran into these woods because you heard a scream. It’s in your nature to look out for people.

Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all that. It was a trap, but you did the right thing. That’s not on you. That’s on the assholes that set the trap and probably so killed our classmates.” I reassure him.

“We don’t know they’re dead.” He mumbles.

“We didn’t see anyone else get out of that bus alive. I…I don’t know. If someone else was alive, we would have seen them.” I say stubbornly.

“Have a little faith,” Peter tells me.

“Having faith hasn’t done shit for me,” I grumble. “Look where we are. Look at the things around me. They…they all get ruined. People die. Because of me.”

He squeezes my hand. “You save people. You saved me.”

“My mom is gone and I couldn’t protect her. My first home was destroyed by the Mandarin, I was injected with Extremis and tortured with it as a little girl, I caused Loki to kill Agent Coulson in New York…I’m more trouble than I’m worth. And sooner or later, you’ll be hurt by me too. No matter how hard I try to stop it. After this is all over, you should stay away from me. Far away.” I explain.

He’s silent for a long moment. “None of that is your fault. None of it.”

I shake my head. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Good,” Peter says softly. “I don’t wanna lose you either. Ro, I…”

Brushing hair out of the weak, sweet boy’s face, I kiss him. “I think you’re pretty rad.”

He coughs, laughing lightly. “Thanks. You’re pretty rad too.”

“We’re gonna be okay,” I tell him. “I promise.”

I promise, Peter.

(Continued in tomorrow's part and continues for another few parts.)

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moonlit-imagines · 2 years

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Headcanons for Ajak falling for you, a human

Ajak x human!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “(Ajak anon) Good! I wanted to ask first before sending a request in, just in case! Dating Ajak would include with a human!reader, similar to the one you made for Makkari, please? Thank you!”

you had neighboring farms

that was how you met

one of your fences had broken and some of your animals had gotten loose, making their way to her property

“hi, hi, so sorry, neighbor!” -you, wrangling up your cattle

“oh, please don’t apologize, it’s alright! let me help you” -ajak

you spent a good bit of time trying to get everyone back where they belong

“thank you so much. oh, and nice to finally meet you, sorry i don’t get out much. i’m y/n” -you

“ajak” -she shook your very muddy hand

“ooh, i like that. would you be willing to come inside for dinner? it’s the least i can do” -you

she accepted, albeit a bit hesitantly

but you hit it off right away and ajak enjoyed being out of solitude for this bit of time

she didn’t know how much she missed the company of others, her family, until it has vanished

but your relationship didn’t start until some time later

you were each other’s favorite neighbor

you made her all sorts of desserts and dishes and she invited you over and you had the best of times

“so, do you have any family?” -you

“i do…although i have not seen them in some years. my youngest, she moved out not too long ago” -ajak

“and she hasn’t come to visit yet?” -you

“no, not yet, but they all live so far away. there’s still time” -ajak

you’d sit on her porch in her rocking chairs and watch the sunset, sometimes you’d even make it to sunrise, too

and one day she decided to make her move

“you know, we both have such empty houses…and it’s such a long ways between them” -ajak

“are you suggesting we do something about that?” -you

“i am…would you like to move in, y/n?” -ajak

ajak was moving slowly, but she knew deep down she was running out of time with you

so over dinner one night, she’d finally asked you if you’d like to make it official

and soon after, she told you the truth about her life, lifetimes, family, and origins

which was a lot to take in

but you did, and you thought she was just as amazing as before

by the time you were together, you were already in love

and she really was so loving

her kisses were heavenly and her hugs warmed you on the coldest days

you rode horses together, sometimes racing for some “friendly competition”

“she’s the fastest in all of this dakota” -you, petting your horse

“maybe i let you win” -ajak

cuddling on the couch and listening to music

which usually led to dancing together

you really wanted to meet her family, but it had been years and they still hadn’t even called. your time could run out, not theirs

but you focused on how happy you were with ajak and ajak alone

she used her powers on you a great deal. you took a few tumbles and got a few cuts and bruises while working on the farm

“what would i do without you?” -you, smiling through pain on the ground

“oh, i’d rather not think about it” -ajak, laughing while she heals you (and gives u a kiss to top it all off)

as you grew older, ajak grew weary of you working and started taking on more responsibility

“don’t worry, my love. i’ve endured much more work than this quaint little ranch” -ajak

“i don’t deserve you” -you

“of course you do” -ajak, holding your face and kissing your forehead

you got weaker and she stayed the same, knowing that one day she’d lose you and be alone in this house once more

but she made the most of your time together

and your mind seemed to slip, for that she had no cure

you sat in your rocking chairs holding hands, you muttering things that don’t make sense and asking for “your kids,” like sersi and sprite and ikarus

only you called them sarah, pete, and isaac

“they’ll be home soon” -ajak

but they didn’t come home until you were long gone

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @johnmurphyisqueer // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @brutal-out-here // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @resplendentlady // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @dindjarinsspouse // @werewolf-himbo // @lost-fantasy // @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom // @summersimmerus // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @augustvandyne // @spoodermans // @the-did-i-ask // @glxwingrxse // @scarthefangirl // @cyanide-mustard // @druigmybelovedone // @beth-gallagher22 // @bad4amficideas // @magnificentzombiebasement // @sheridans-dynamos // @seraphinevalentine //

#ajak #ajak x reader #ajak imagine #ajak eternals #ajak eternals x reader #ajak eternals imagine #eternals #eternals imagine #eternals x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

Just a Kid

Daryl Dixon x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2453 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Taking Lydia in as your own with Daryl

Hi, I couldn’t get this concept out of my head.

—————————————————————————————————

“She’s just a kid, D” you hummed, carefully working at the knot in his neck that he’d been complaining about for days.

You knew that this thing with the girl, and Jesus, and all these people wearing faces was really starting to wear on Daryl’s nerves.

You could tell, because every night when he came back to your house, he was even more tense than the last and at this point, you were really starting to get concerned that he would burst a blood vessel.

There was just too much going on right now.

...but you knew what you had to do.

Lydia was just a child, and even if her people were the purest evil you could ever imagine, that didn’t mean that she was. If nothing else, she was little more than a battered little girl who had never known any better.

That was how you saw her, and you knew Daryl did too.

He just wasn’t ready to take on so much yet, and honestly, he didn’t know if he could. It was hard for him to have to take over all this at Hilltop, and that girl they’d brought was only making it worse.

“You still on that?” he grumbled back, really hoping that you would have gotten over this pipe dream of yours already.

The two of you had talked this conversation to death, and while you knew there was a good chance that nothing was going to change, you would continue to do so until he changed his mind.

Ever since she had come to know this group, you had gotten it in your head that the two of you could give her the home that she had never had but Daryl wasn’t so easily convinced.

It just seemed like more than you were ready for.

He saw that look in your eyes, when she was finally safe behind those gates, but then you’d gone and made it even worse.

You met her.

Maybe it hadn’t been the greatest idea, and maybe it wouldn’t help but you knew that at least you could try to understand better.

You could only imagine how a girl in her position would be feeling. You knew that if you were her, you would have been absolutely terrified.

After all, she was surrounded by strangers, in an unforgiving and new environment.

It was possible that one friendly face would make all the difference to her and as it happened, you had one of the friendliest faces around here.

If anyone was going to get through to her, it was you.

Course, Daryl was against the idea from the start but you knew that no one else was going to stick their neck out for her if you two didn’t. That made it more than worth it to you, even if no one else understood.

She didn’t say a word for the first few days.

Lydia had nothing to say to you and frankly, you couldn't blame her for that. You were a stranger, the enemy as far as she knew, and there was no reason she should have trusted you at all, but that wasn’t always going to be the case.

The more you came, the more she realized that you may have been the only person willing to stick their neck out for her. Once she decided that you weren’t going to kill her, or sell her out, it was pretty much settled.

You needed to help her.

It wasn’t up for debate, but for some reason, convincing Daryl was proving to be an even more difficult task.

“We aren’t her parents, it ain’t our place” he tried, desperately hoping that you would see how insane what you were proposing was. Still, you weren’t letting up, and he knew you well enough to know what that meant.

You were invested.

You were going to do whatever you could to get through to her.

Perhaps it was because you two found yourself comparing her to Daryl or perhaps it was your own soft spot for kids.

In any case, the damage was done.

“She doesn’t have parents D, that’s why she needs us” you sighed, leaning down to rest fully into his back, your head nestled in the space between his shoulder and his neck. It gave you just enough leverage to look at him.

It was hardly up for debate.

Lydia’s mother saw her as little more than an asset, something to abuse and control. After all the things you’d endured with Daryl, it made her well being that much more personal, for both of you.

It took months to get Daryl to tell you about his past.

He trusted you more than anyone else in the world, and his greatest pain was still too difficult to share until he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

You had no doubt that the hold this girl’s mother had on her was even stronger.

At least Daryl had Merle, he knew how much of an asshole his dad was.

Lydia was brainwashed.

You would be lucky if you were ever able to break whatever her mother had done to her, due to the extreme circumstances, but you knew that you had to try.

No one deserved the way she had been treated, and you wanted to make sure that she understood it wasn’t her fault.

Her mother was cruel, and there was nothing more to it than that.

The best way to prove that to her would be giving her a real home, proving to her that not everyone was going to treat her the way that she did. Maybe, if she felt safe, she would finally start to open up.

When the two of you first met, Daryl hardly spoke to you and when he did, it was always in a gruff, unfriendly tone. It took him some time to warm up to you and once he had, that tone warmed up to one of love.

It just took time.

The same thing could apply to Lydia, if you just gave her some time.

If nothing else, it had to be worth a shot.

She was worth it.

“You really wanna do this?” he hummed, after what felt like an eternity of silence between the two of you.

Daryl heard you, he got the message, he just couldn't be sure that being with you, and him, would be enough.

He knew what it was like to be in her position, and he knew how hard it was to let people in. It was possible that she would never allow herself to be cared for in the way you wanted to, and he didn’t want you getting your hopes up.

You would be crushed if she rejected your offer, but it couldn’t hurt.

Even if she wanted nothing to do with either of you, at least you tried to give her something. That was much more than anyone else in the world had ever done for her.

“Yeah, I do. I really do” you smiled, not even bothering to hide the wide grin that spread across your face at the idea of what he was saying. It wasn’t exactly a yes, but it was as much of a yes as you were going to get from Daryl.

It was more than enough.

At the end of the day, even if it was a bad idea, Daryl knew better than to argue with you. What you were suggesting was crazy, but it was so very you that he couldn’t even worry about it.

He fell in love with you and that heart of gold of yours, so if this was what it was telling you to do, he owed it to you to let you do what you thought was right.

You had to, just as he had to.

...and of all the crazy ideas you’d ever had, this was hardly the most dangerous one.

All you wanted to do now was give a little girl a place to live and a family, it wasn’t like you were suggesting some kind of suicide mission. You and Daryl had faced far worse than a child, desperate for belonging and acceptance.

What you were doing was new for all of you.

Lydia wasn’t sure, at first.

After all, she had never really had parents and you and Daryl had certainly never been parents.

It just wasn’t something you had any experience with.

However, with all that you’d lost recently, it didn’t make sense to turn her away too. She was a product of her circumstances and nothing more. It wouldn’t be fair to make Lydia pay for the sins of her mother.

Instead, you chose to put all your effort into making sure she never felt like a burden again.

You knew that she blamed herself, in part, for what her mother had done. Henry was gone, Tara was gone, Enid was gone, it was just too much.

You’d lost too many people in the months it had been and you weren’t interested in losing any more.

You certainly weren’t interested in letting a little girl take the blame for what her people had done, not when she first arrived, and not now.

Lydia was good, she was trying, and that wasn’t something you were going to debate.

Thankfully, that was something you and Daryl could both agree on, without all the initial back and forth.

You were both winging it, of course, but you knew that you had to try and stick up for her. Even the smallest gesture would make a world of difference.

She deserved to feel safe for once.

When you and Daryl had decided to take her in, it wasn’t supposed to be perfect. You weren’t going to move into a little cottage surrounded by a white picket fence, with flowers and a dog.

It was making the best of whatever shit show situation you’d been dealt.

It was all you knew to do.

“You wanna help me with this?” you hummed, addressing your words to the young girl at your side.

What you were asking wasn’t really all that much of a question but considering that you were sewing up a huge hole in Daryl’s button up, she wasn’t interested.

“D does it himself, mostly, but he’s clumsy about it. The stitching always comes undone” you reminded, thinking about the last time he’d offered to stitch up a hole in your jeans, and it had unraveled by the end of the day.

He meant well, he really did, but he had never really had the patience for more delicate things like this. Sewing of any kind, even stitches in flesh, had never really been his foray.

...but that was okay.

You told him that you would take care of this, and he could pick up the slack somewhere else, making dinner or cleaning blood and dirt out of the laundry.

“I don’t know how” she tried, looking at you in the way she often would when she ran into something she had never done before. The two of you’d had this same conversation when you suggested she go to school with the other children.

She didn’t even know how to read when she came to you, and now, she is making great progress.

It was just a matter of learning what she had never had a chance to learn before.

“I’ll teach you, it's easy” you smiled, handing her the garment with one hand, and the needle with the other.

She looked unsure, lost even, but she took it nonetheless.

“Hold the fabric with this hand, and move the needle with the other, up and down in as straight a line as you can manage” you instructed, keeping it as simple as you possibly could until she got the hang of it.

You knew this was probably a tad bit overwhelming, and if she didn't go it right the first time, she would get discouraged but luckily, years by Daryl’s side had taught you a patience that nothing else ever could.

You could sit here all day if you had to, as long as she got the hang of it.

Lydia had been living with her pack of skin walkers all this time, only doing what she was told, but that wasn’t the life she was living now.

She was part of a community, and she had a family, but that also meant that she had to learn to protect and provide for herself when you weren’t there. If something ever happened to you or Daryl, she still had to live.

Her clothes couldn’t be ripped or ruined, her wounds couldn’t stay open to fester, and eventually, she would need to cook and clean for herself too, but for now, a helping hand was all you needed.

People were what kept your communities running, and your home was no different. You and Daryl were a team, communicating without words most of the time, and she was part of that now.

She was part of the team.

“Like that?” she tried, hoping that some part of what she was doing was right. There was no real way to tell but you didn’t seem upset so that had to be a good sign.

It was a strangely domestic task for her, one that brought back memories of her people, her old people, sewing up masks of tanned human skin. The motion was the same, the idea was the same, but there was something normal about this.

She was just fixing a shirt.

There was nothing volatile or aggressive about this, and it wasn’t for anything other than someone she cared for. That made it a little easier to stomach than any other chore may have been.

This was for Daryl after all, and if anyone had earned something like this, it was him.

Lydia wasn’t blind.

She knew what the two of you had done for her, always making sure she had something to eat and sticking up for her when the others got a little too comfortable with their distaste for her.

“Exactly, just a little closer together” you prompted, smiling when she did just as you asked. She was a quick learner, and you knew that she could do this.

This was normal, real, and the sooner she learned that she could live a completely normal life, the sooner she would really adapt to life in a community like this one.

“Once you’re done, you can help Daryl with dinner. I’m sure he’d love the help”

It was hardly where she expected to be, but it was more than where she’d been. At least, with you and Daryl, Lydia knew that she was safe.

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myherowritings · 3 years

Text

PART 2. LOVE IS FAKE, MARRY A WEALTHY SUITOR

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.5k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. thank u guys for all the positive feedback on this series so far and i really hope u enjoy this chapter too ! ^-^ xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

It seemed your subtle pleas to the gods to see the mysterious businessman again had been answered, since only the day after Shouto gave you a $100 tip, you saw him at the cafe.

You looked to the skies with a hint of suspicion. This seemed too easy— You were expecting at least a few weeks of your heart pining as you wondered where-oh-where your dreamy customer could have gone. But instead, after a mere 24 hours later, you saw him enter the store in a pair of pressed trousers and a light blue, button up shirt that was rolled just below his elbows.

Blinking, you drew your attention away from his exposed forearms. You knew he was attractive from your first encounter, but was he always this hot?

Sadly, you couldn’t focus too much on that since he had to get behind the line and obstruct himself from your view, and you had to take the order of the next customer.

“Hi! I can take the next person in line.” You smiled. “Good morning! What can I get started for you today?”

After repeating that five or so more times and starting a few drinks on hot bar, you finally reached Shouto’s place and, thankfully, there didn’t seem to be too many patrons piling behind him.

“Good morning, Shouto!” you greeted when he stepped forward to the counter. “How are you this morning?”

“Better now that I saw you.”

Your smile faltered as your cheeks heated up, but you tried to brush it off with a laugh. While Shouto had the definite looks of a so-called businessman playboy, his words held none of the flirtatious intonation as one might expect. In fact, he sounded like he genuinely meant it— Like he was only stating a simple fact and had no reason to be shameful.

It felt both like an attack on your heart and like a refreshing glass of water at the same time.

“How about you?” he continued.

“I could say the same thing,” you said with a chuckle, but you found yourself meaning everything you told him. Though you didn’t expect to see him again at the cafe so soon, you couldn’t deny the instant he walked through the doors, your morning felt just a little bit brighter. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but this is a pleasant surprise.”

Shouto had the decency to look a little bashful as he averted his gaze slightly. “Yeah. I…really liked the...cheese danishes.”

Surprised, a small giggle left your lips. “Don’t tell me you finished all three dozen of them!”

“Well…” He looked even more sheepish. “I didn’t exactly… I guess you could say that.”

“I’m glad you liked them so much you came back for more,” you teased, looking down at the pastries from the oven you just stocked. “Sadly, our fresh pastry today is a chocolate croissant. I can tell my manager to have cheese danishes made again soon though!”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll try the chocolate croissants today then. Maybe five dozen this time.”

Five multiplied by twelve… A whole 60 chocolate croissants? Were they all for him? You shrugged, not one to judge. If someone wanted to eat 60 croissants, so be it. Though you did hope he wouldn’t eat it all in one sitting. That might give him a stomachache.

“Alrighty, five dozen chocolate croissants,” you repeated as you typed it into the register. “And would you like any beverages with that? Another flat white maybe?”

“Actually, I’ll have a large macchiato with two extra shots of espresso this time.”

You nodded with a hum. “Long day ahead?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I hope the coffee and croissants can carry you through, Shouto!” you said, wishing his day would go by smoothly. “Will that be all for you today?”

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope so too. And yes, that’s it.”

“Great. $73.24 is your total then! Will you be paying in card again?”

He nodded.

“Go ahead and scan and sign when you’re ready.”

You busied yourself by writing his name and order on a large cup and starting the espresso pulls. Your manager was helping get the pastries and other orders ready this morning, so it was nowhere near as hectic as yesterday.

“Your order will be to your right. It was nice seeing you again, Shouto.” You smiled, giving him a small wave and already wishing you could hold the line up to talk to him longer. “See you tomorrow morning?” you asked almost hesitantly.

He returned your smile with upturned lips of his own. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” Before he left the counter, he pulled out another $100 bill—did he go to a dry cleaners to have his cash steamed and ironed? It was almost ridiculously crisp—and handed it to you. “A tip to show my appreciation for your service.”

“A-Again?” you stammered, eyes wide. That was $200 in two days from just his tip alone. That was more than you made in two weeks when you worked part-time! “Are you sure?”

Whether he had money to spare or not, this was incredibly generous of him and you would never have expected this amount from anyone. And it wasn’t like Shouto made it a scene for everyone in the shop to look at and gawk; he was subtle yet unashamed. Like he wanted to do it for no other reason than to do it.

“Of course. You deserve it for your work, Y/N.”

The customer behind him made an impatient noise and you winced. You wanted to be able to thank him more, but all you had time for was a simple, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Shouto nodded in response before walking to the other side of the cafe to wait for his order while you managed the other customers in line, a fuzzy but warm feeling lingering in your stomach from your bizarre interaction. Money or not, you enjoyed seeing him in the mornings and were already looking forward to your brief conversations that would take place the next days to come.

He certainly gave you something to look forward to amidst the inconsiderate customers who barely saw you as human every morning. Sometimes, that was all you could ask for.

When Shouto left the store and the line had died down towards the end of rush hour, your manager approached you with a curious look on her face.

“That guy named Shouto…?” Miyazaki said.

You nodded.

“A friend of yours?”

“You could say that… We just met yesterday’s morning shift,” you said as you finished up the green tea latte for one of the remaining stragglers from the last hour’s boom. “But he’s really friendly I think.”

“You only recently became associated?” she asked, lifting a brow. “It seemed like you two were quite chummy today.” Then, nudged your side. “He was rather attractive don’t you think? And rich-looking.”

Fumbling with the lid on the beverage, you stifled a surprised cough. Sure, you got along with your boss and thought she was one of the more understanding and kind individuals you have worked under, but gossiping about the looks and potential income of a customer with your 56-year-old manager was not on your bingo sheet as a worker here.

“I…” You called out the order for the latte before turning back to your manager. “He is.”

“Ooh, he’s rich?”

“I meant he’s attractive!” you sputtered, feeling abashed at her blunt words. You thought of the tip he gave you in your pocket and his orders of dozens of pastries. “Rich…maybe so. Not that it matters!”

Miyazaki tsked. “Of course it matters! Marry rich and your life will be easier. That’s what my mother told me and what her mother told her.” She shook her head. “Should’ve listened.”

You laughed, feeling only a little awkward. It wasn’t the first time you heard that sentiment from someone older than you. It wasn’t uncommon for family members or even workers you were close to to share that same advice—if you could even call it that.

While you agreed money could make a lot of things easier, marrying someone for wealth didn’t appeal to you. But you recognized that even that may come from a place of privilege to be able to say.

“He seems like a wealthy suitor for you, yes?”

“Suitor—?” you choked out. “No! I mean— We just met! We don’t know anything about each other really.”

She sighed, “Young people and their obsession with marrying someone they ‘know’ for true love. When do you really know someone anyway?” Waving a hand she changed the topic. “But enough of that. What I wanted to say was next time that man comes in here, we can offer him a complimentary box of a dozen pastries— Since he’s spent so much in so little it feels like the right thing to do.”

“Sure. A complimentary dozen.” Finally. Work. A topic you felt much more comfortable talking about. “That, I can do.”

“And then maybe offer a hand in marriage while you’re at it.”

“Mrs. Miyazaki!” you gasped, feeling only mildly affronted.

“I joke.” She ruffled her hair and smoothed down her apron. “I’m going to make more pastries now. Can you hold up the front?”

“You can count on me.”

“I know I can. Thanks for your hard work!”

And with that, she headed to the backroom where the kitchen was to leave you alone with your thoughts in a quiet cafe. Rush hour ended so there were only a few customers trickling in, most much kinder and more pleasant to talk to than the bustling businessmen of the earlier shift.

Throughout your small conversations with the patrons, you found yourself thinking back to two things— One, how interesting traditional values and teachings in collectivist cultures were and questioning where you fell into place with them, and two…wondering about Shouto.

Tomorrow, he had said before he left. You’d see him again tomorrow.

Oddly enough, you were looking forward to it more than you’d like to admit.

— ✩ —

It was the fifth day of the week, the fifth time he had seen you at the cafe, and he was already tempted to see you again. Would it be invasive to get another pastry after work? Would you even be there working at that hour?

Shouto saw you this morning (along with all the other mornings before that) and yet he couldn’t quell the pull he felt towards you with only the short interaction time you had together. But he would take what he could get without being weird.

He had been told in the past he could be too forward and dysregulate his feelings and scare people off, and that wasn’t something he wanted to risk with you, though he was certainly much better at it now with learning and practice. If he was reading things correctly, you at least seemed to enjoy seeing him during your shift.

“You got more pastries, sir?” an employee from the medical supplies sector asked him gleefully. “I swear they get better each time!”

Shouto nodded with a smile. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll be sure to relay your compliment.”

With the dozens of pastries he’s been ordering from your cafe (each order seeming to grow every time he visited after realizing just how much his employees enjoyed it), he would place them around the breakrooms and staff kitchens in the establishment. Those areas were always fully stocked with drinks and sandwiches and chocolates in case anyone needed a little boost, but nothing seemed to bring as much comfort as freshly baked pastries did. And a different baked good almost everyday seemed to give people more to get excited about.

He owed it all to your sales’ pitch and blinding smile that made him want to buy it. And your personality, of course.

His Personal Secretary had started to wonder why she no longer was tasked with his early morning coffee runs, and Shouto had to find a way to answer without saying it was because there was a barista he wanted to keep talking to.

Not even he was that shameless.

The first time, his PS had just called in sick and Shouto decided he might as well head to a cafe himself for the first time in a while. He worried he might have been rusty while ordering, but you did such a good job at being welcoming and guiding the transaction that he found himself actually enjoying it. (Enjoying you, maybe. But it was too soon to admit that.)

And now, after that initial meeting, he decided it was worth half an hour of his day to give his PS some early morning break time and visit the cafe himself.

It was worth it so much, in fact, that the next morning on a Saturday, despite most of his employees being given the weekend off, he still went to buy some coffee and pastries.

“Good morning!” an older lady called as he entered the front doors. Shouto had seen her assisting in shifts and baking pastries when you were busy working the cash register. “What can I get started for you today?”

He looked around the store—relatively quiet compared to the rush hour during the weekdays—and to his disappointment, saw no sight of you.

The current barista laughed, seeming to read his very thoughts. “Looking for someone? Y/N perhaps?”

His gaze shot up, feeling like a kid getting caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to by his guardian. Cautiously, he gave a small nod.

“‘Fraid they have the weekends off, actually,” the lady—her name tag read Miyazaki—said. “But don’t look so down, they’ll be back on Monday morning to greet you with a smile.”

He nodded again, feeling his face heat up. Was he that transparent or did Miyazaki just know too much? “Thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckled, waving him over. “No need to be so formal. Now, is there anything I can get for you? Or were you just visiting in hopes of asking our dear Y/N out?”

“No— I…” Shouto felt himself averting his gaze. “I’ll order something.”

At his apparent discomfort, her mischievous gaze softened. “Of course, hon. Sorry for teasing too much. I was just excited seeing how adorable you and Y/N were.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s not my business. Anyway. What can I get started for you?”

He asked for a macchiato and a couple dozen of today’s pastries, paid, and tipped. (Though, it was initially met with a blatant rejection. He didn’t take it too hard; he knew some older members of society thought of tips as insulting and he’d never force anyone to take a tip if it made them feel bad. But after offering again, she thankfully accepted it.)

When he left the cafe, although the exchange was pleasant enough, Shouto still found himself disappointed he wasn’t able to see you.

At least he had something to look forward to next Monday morning, though part of him wished the day would somehow come sooner.

a/n: hope u enjoyed miyazaki’s words of wisdom u.u FHKDF i’m totally kidding, but if ur asian like me then u kNOW what convos like that are like omg ,, just had my mom and two grandmas tell me that recently :’/ kskskfd but anyway i hope u enjoyed this chapter and liked seeing a glimpse of shouto’s thoughts ;3 tysm for reading!

what to expect in the next part:

more shouto and y/n :>

maybe some ~flirting~ pfft idk idk u.u

some minor...misunderstandings

“hello, zuko here” vibes

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ _____________________

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’s!ʙᴇsᴛ!ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs ᴀᴜ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and Buck have always been close growing up but you two soon learn that the line that separates friendly and flirting is a lot thinner than you think.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fluff, slight angst bc u got a shit bf, big bro vibes from bucky, smut duh [18+ minors dni (slight praise but also slight degradation, marking, belly bulge, squirting, fem!rec oral, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl, slight choking, pet names: darling&princess, i think that’s it lmk plz)]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hey assholes i'm back for the time being lol. I have a few ideas and fics I'm currently writing right now so do not fret.

______________________________________

You knew this was a horrible idea.

It’s Saturday night and you and your boyfriend were back in another night club after being kicked out from one just hours before. Daniel had gotten too drunk, as he always does, causing you to kindly ask the bartender to cut him off. Daniel didn’t take that too lightly resulting in a gnarly swing at the poor guy just doing his job.

Security threw you out and Daniel called an Uber to go where you thought was going to be your apartment but twenty minutes later you pulled up to another club practically on the other side of town. You yelled at Daniel but he pushed aside stumbling inside for yet even more drinks and mistakes waiting for him inside.

You sat at the bar simply drinking some water and snacking on some peanuts keeping your eye on your garbage boyfriend. You're constantly checking the time on your phone, annoyed with every passing minute. It was 2 am and you just wanted to go home and sleep. You were even debating texting your brother Steve hoping you could just crash at his place not too far from where you were but it would be incredibly irresponsible to just leave Daniel in the state he’s in.

So you waited and waited and waited. Your eyelids felt heavy and your energy was just completely drained. You were basically a zombie. It wasn’t until a guy approached your half asleep body that you felt a sense of alert. Daniel was shit-faced so you were practically defenseless.

“Hey,” the guy shouted over the music.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. My boyfriend’s-” you quickly said, only to be cut off.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hit on you. I’ve got a boyfriend of my own,” he chuckled, making you breathe out in relief.

“Sorry,” you cringed at yourself.

“It’s alright; but uh, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You might want to check with your boyfriend,” he said sympathetically.

You pushed your way through the crowd scanning every face in search of Daniel. What did he do? Is he hurt? Did he get in trouble again? Is he getting arrested? Where is he-

“Daniel?” you said eyes tearing up a bit.

His arms were wrapped around another girl’s waist as he kissed her the way he kissed you. She practically moaned as their tongues slobbered disgustingly with each other. Their hips grinding against each other proactively as if you weren’t even there. Sadness turned to anger, and anger turned to rage, gripping Daniel’s short hairs and pulling his head away from whoever this girl was.

“What the fuck?” the girl complained, her eyes completely bloodshot.

“Did he tell you that he was here with his girlfriend tonight?” you're sad with gritted teeth. Daniel stumbled around still unable to register what the hell was happening.

“Oh my god, you forreal?” she said.

“Who fucking cares? She’s a prude anyway. I got more action with you than I did her in the past, what, six months?” Daniel slurred.

“You know what, you’re a fucking prick, dude. She deserves so much better than you; I bet your dick is small anyway,” the girl said.

“Fuck you too bitch,” Daniel spit.

“I can’t believe you,” you said.

“Oh, whoop-dee-doo, big fucking surprise. Babe, you’re a prude. Can’t you see it? I don’t know why I’m wasting my time with you anymore,” he practically puked out the words without any second thought.

“Fine, then I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, you fucking asshole,” you stormed away holding in the tears; he wasn’t worth it.

Almost three am and you just dumped your cheating lowlife boyfriend on the other side of town. Steve wasn’t answering his phone and you even wanna be near the club anymore. Walking speedily staring at your screen desperate to call an Uber home, you bumped harshly into a hard chest falling to the ground on your bum.

“Fucking hell, I’m so sorry, darling,” the man said helping you up by your elbows.

“It’s ok. I wasn’t looking- Bucky?”

“Oh, hey kid. What are you doing? It’s like three in the morning and you don’t live anywhere near here,” Bucky said, crossing his arms.

“Daniel got himself kicked from the one by our apartment and Ubered here instead.”

“So where’s Daniel?” Bucky scowled; he’s always hated that guy, so did Steve.

“Probably fucking some other chick in the bathroom,” your voice cracked.

“What?”

“It’s nothing; I just want to go home,” you cried.

“Hey, it’s ok; it’s ok. Do you wanna crash at me and Steve’s? He’s gone for the weekend with Peggy; you can stay in his room at least for the night,” Bucky offered; so that’s why Steve’s not answering his phone.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your night. I can just call an Uber, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Steve’ll kill me if he found out I left his baby sis alone in the streets of New York at three in the morning. It’s not a problem, we were just bar hopping and I stopped drinking ages ago.”

“Are you sure, Buck?”

“Of course,” he smiled warmly at you.

“Hey, Nat!”

“What’s up?” a beautiful redhead approached you both.

“Gonna head home ; don’t do anything stupid,” he chuckled.

“You too,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Catch you Monday?”

“You’re stupid. I’ll see ya,” Bucky laughed before grabbing your hand and headed towards his apartment.

“Thanks again, Buck. For letting me stay here tonight,” you said once you entered his apartment.

It had been a while since you hung out at your brother’s apartment but nothing’s changed. Typical men and their inability to change even a throw pillow. You set your small bag on the couch before Bucky led you to Steve’s room. There were pictures of you and him posing at Steve’s graduation; and later your own. Pictures of Steve and Bucky at a theme park, during a bar-be-que for Steve’s birthday. So many memories that Steve held onto in his room.

“Time really flies doesn’t it?” Bucky said, slightly startling you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“No, you’re fine. But you’re right. Feels all these pictures were taken yesterday,” you reminisced.

“I got you some clothes if you need to change; I’ll give you privacy,” Bucky said, slipping from the room briskly.

You sat on the bed frustrated with everything. Your body was so drained from being up so early in the night, to the fight with Daniel. The past couple months with him were so awful. He was just so mean to you all the time and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Where did it go wrong? When did things shift?

"Is everything ok, darling?" Bucky asked quietly, knocking on the door when you hadn't come out after a while.

"What did I do wrong? I thought he loved me," you choked out.

Bucky sighed as he walked over to the bed sitting beside you before engulfing you in a warm hug. You cried into his shoulder and Bucky couldn't help the anger that bubbled inside him for your excuse of a boyfriend Daniel. He never got along with the guy and now he finally has a reason to knock his teeth in.

"You didn't do anything, I know it. That prick wouldn't know love if it hit him in the face. It's his loss. You deserve so much better than that asshole. Look at me, you're so beautiful and funny and fucking adorable; any guy who can't see how perfect you are, is a dense piece of shit."

"James," you whispered.

His words made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. But Bucky’s always had that effect on you. Even growing up. You weren’t going to sit there and pretend that hearing his words hadn't had a deeper effect than they would’ve coming from Daniel. Sometimes you wondered what being with Bucky would be like. You’re not the first to admit how handsome Bucky was and growing up you did have quite the crush on your brother’s best friend.

You don't know what it was, whether it was the alcohol still swimming through your veins, or just feeling so vulnerable being in Bucky's arms but you wanted him badly. You needed him, needed to feel something again. And you knew he could give it to you. You pressed your lips to his and in an instant his hands dropped to your hips pulling you impossibly close against his body. Your hands went to the back of his head as you kissed him messily. Your noses bumped and teeth clashed but it was the best kiss you’ve ever had.

“Fuck, your brother’s gonna kill me,” Bucky mumbled, almost to himself, as he slowly laid you down on your back.

Bucky’s hands trailed up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh every now and then as he continued kissing you passionately. Your own hands couldn’t help but tug at his shirt desperately. When he did so, your breath was completely taken away. It had been years since you’d seen Bucky without a shirt.

Not only had he been quite skinny just like your brother back then, but not long after leaving for college with Steve he was in a bike accident that left him with ghastly scars and burns along his left arm and shoulder. Since then, it’s fair to say Bucky never really ever took his shirt off. It had taken years just for him to remove the glove he’d always wear to cover the scars on his hand.

“You’ve gotten so strong, James,” you grinned, reaching out to brush the flexed muscles running down his front.

He simply stared at you with an anticipating and anxious expression on his face, waiting for you to state the obvious. When you didn’t, when you pulled his head down to kiss him once again, he almost cried. Bucky hadn’t been with a woman in so long, afraid of this very moment. He knew at that moment, there was no one quite like you.

Bucky fell in love.

“Let me take care of you, darling. You’ve been so good to me,” Bucky whispered huskily in your ear as he trailed his hand under your own shirt brushing his fingertips along the underside of your breast.

His lips pressed softly against your hot skin along your neck before standing up between your legs at the end of the bed. He pulled your shirt off then played cheekily with the straps of your bra that you still had on. You smiled back at him with the same playful stare, reaching behind you to unclasp the material.

You could see the way Bucky’s eyes darken and his pupils widened as he stared in awe at your naked chest. Your skin bursted into chills under his hungry gaze even though you felt like you were burning up. Bucky leaned forward kissing down the valley of your breasts, nipping once in a while playfully before laying you back down. He shimmied you out of your bottoms easily, kneeling on the ground leaving you completely bare before him.

“You are absolutely stunning, princess,” Bucky whispered, running his hands up your thighs slowly.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you whimpered.

“Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’m gonna take good care of you,” he smirked devilishly.

He pushed your knees open, eyeing the arousal that glistened between your thighs. He brought his fingers up to you slowly rubbing your slick around before finally pushing a thick and long finger past your folds. Your body shuddered solely at the foreign but pleasurable feeling, already moaning softly.

Bucky’s cock strained through pants upon hearing your beautiful moans; they were like music to his ears. He couldn’t help the way his hips would buck into the mattress in a desperate attempt to relieve some pain from his erection. Soon after he pulled his fingers from you slowly only to thrust them further in you, curling his fingers just right.

He brought his mouth down to you, wrapping his lips around your clit sucking harshly. You gasped and your back arched, overwhelmed with pleasure Bucky was giving you with just his mouth and fingers. All the times that you’d given yourself to your ex, he had never made you feel this good before, feel this full; let alone with his fingers. Bucky was taking his time with you solely for your own pleasure and it made your heart swoon.

Your legs trapped Bucky’s head between your thighs, squeezing as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. Your hands went to his hair pulling on his dark locks causing Bucky to moan deeply against you. You were so close to a release; your legs shaking violently and your stomach tightening.

“Come on, princess. Want you to come all over my face. Can you do that for me, darling?”

“Fuck!”

“Be a good girl and make a mess,” Bucky teased.

His fingers moved faster as he swirled his tongue around and over your clit just as quickly. You were becoming overwhelmed and that coil bursted in the pit of your stomach. You pushed Bucky’s face from you, shrieking with pure pleasure; Bucky’s kept the rapid pace with fingers as you fell over the edge.

“Fucking hell, that was so hot, princess,” Bucky said standing up; his fingers, arm, his chest was covered in your arousal.

“Did I do that?” your voice trembled.

“Because of me,” Bucky winked playfully.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you let your head fall back on the bed as you briefly caught your breath.

Bucky grabbed his shirt that he discarded not long ago and quickly wiped his chest and arm before discarding his pants and boxers. He nearly moaned at the feeling when he finally freed his dick from the restraining garments. His hand instantly wrapped around the base before pumping himself a few times.

You brought yourself onto your elbows momentarily ogling at the sight of Bucky completely bare before you. Your mouth practically watered at the sight. Bucky crawled over you kissing you deeply and messily; but perfectly. He pulled away and you both had goofy smiles on your faces before bursting into a fit of giggles, Bucky’s head burying into the crook of your neck.

“You’re so goddamn adorable, princess,” Bucky’s voice was muffled.

“Bucky,” you whined.

You couldn’t resist squirming underneath the burly man. Although, you’ve just had what was probably the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you wanted more. You needed more; you needed Bucky.

“I got you, darling. I got you.”

Bucky wanted to tease you more, make you beg, but he was just as desperate to feel you as you were. He propped himself up on his elbows kissing you one last time before reaching between your bodies and lining his dick with your entrance. Both you and Bucky moaned simultaneously as he stretched you out; curses spilling from his lips as incoherent moans fell from yours.

“So fucking tight, princess. Squeezing my cock just right, aren’t ya?” he whispered.

“Fuck, I feel so full,” you whimpered.

Bucky began to slowly move his hips in and out of you deliciously. He quickly picked up the pace, jetting his hips rapidly making your moans louder. Bucky sat up on his knees and gripped your waist surely to leave bruises in your wake. This new angle surprised you and you couldn’t help the squeals and moans that left your mouth. You chanted Bucky's name like a prayer; as if it was the only word you knew.

Bucky watched you carefully, your face contorting with pure euphoric pleasure. He couldn’t help notice the small bump in your lower belly and without a second thought, he grabbed your hands pressing them firmly over your tummy.

“You feel how deep I am, darling? Fucking poking through,” Bucky grunted.

“Shit! Oh, it feels so good,” you moaned.

“That’s right, no one’s ever gonna fuck you this good again. This pussy’s mine now,” Bucky growled.

He took one of his hands and wrapped it around your throat squeezing the sides gently but firm at the same time. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned even louder, confident that the neighbors were sure to complain in the morning. Feeling Bucky’s hand around your neck was so exhilarating; you and Daniel had never ever experimented with anything beyond a pair of handcuffs, and that particular night went horribly.

You like being choked by Bucky.

“Fucking slut; you like this, don’t ya?” he came down to whisper huskily against your lips.

“Mh-hm,” you moaned with a devilish grin, your bottom lip resting between your teeth before your eyes rolled back again.

“Such a fucking beauty you are.”

Bucky hips snapped in and out and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he needed to release.

“God, I’m close, princess,” he growled.

His hand moved to rest on the back of your neck to pull you up so you straddled his thighs and your chest was flushed against his. Your sensitive and hardened nipples brushed against his slightly sweaty skin causing you to shudder in pleasure. Bucky’s lips attached themselves to your skin along your collar bones sucking harshly leaving purple marks all along.

Your legs shook once again as they did before and soon enough with an arched back and shout of Bucky’s name you came all over his cock. Overwhelmed with your sex, Bucky bit harshly on your shoulder in a poor attempt to muffled the loud groans and moans he elicited. Feeling your velvety walls squeeze tightly around him pushed him over the edge, coating your walls with hot ribbons on cum.

He fell forward almost crushing you but you were too tired to complain. Bucky continued to pepper soft kisses all over your skin whispering how good you were to him, how beautiful you looked. Just absolutely showering with compliments. You felt him slowly getting off you, probably afraid he was crushing you, but you didn’t want him to leave just yet.

“Don’t,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his body.

“I don’t want to crush you, darling.”

“You’re not.”

Bucky chuckled before settling completely above you, careful not to make you uncomfortable. Hardly any time went by when he felt the even and soft puffs of air hitting his skin, sure that you had fallen asleep. He picked himself up and with major guilt for his best friend, picked you up from the bed and walked you to his own room.

After he was sure you stayed sound asleep, Bucky grabbed a clean pair of boxers and hurried himself to Steve’s room again. He collected all the discarded clothes and the dirty sheets and tossed them in the washing machine to clean right away.

He hadn’t meant to fuck his best friend’s little sister, let alone in his own room, on his own bed, but it all happened so fast.

He went back to his room letting the clothes do it’s thing, and quickly grabbed his phone. He messaged Steve, telling him that when he got back for his weekend with Peggy, he really needed to talk to him.

Tonight made Bucky realize how much he loved you. Growing up, you two had always been close. But he doesn’t know when he stopped being friendly and instead began flirting. Bucky wanted to be with you; he knew it now more than ever.

Bucky watched your gorgeous sleeping form on his bed. He smiled to himself before opening the window; the sun already rising and those beautiful golden rays seeped through the glass window, making you look angelic. He crawled into bed cuddling flushed against your naked body. He chuckled softly when you realized he’d returned, wiggling even further into his arms.

“I love you, Bucky,” you mumbled.

“I love you, too, darling.”

And he really, and truly did love you. As did you love him.

=======================

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thatrandomwriter · 3 years

Text

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

#the walking dead #twd #merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #t dog #oneshot #imagine #rick grimes #reader insert

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