#(other stuff to reply to? Brain said no: only nightmare) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ He Fell First; Literally

content: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader fic warning: lanauage, minor mentions of an ED so if that's something that might trigger you DO NOT READ IM NOT JOKING, author's note: so painfully not canon. i try my best, really i do, but i was not reading those books for memory at 12. i was consuming those books at a rate never before seen, not locking things into my brain. but the fact that i can feel in my bones that it's not super canon accurate makes me want to gorge my eye out but whatevas

y/n was having a pretty crap day. she had been up before apollo allowed the sun to rise, staring blankly over at percy’s side of the cabin. she had been keeping it the same, not shifting the comforter too much or moving his dirty socks from under the bed, knowing he hated when she messed with his stuff. but, every morning, she made sure the dust wasn’t settling. because dust meant more time passed and that thought made her queasy, even though it’s been months.

then, once it was a more acceptable time for her to leave cabin three, y/n had been running around the whole day. she was helping the harpies with breakfast then she had to train some of the younger kids with spears then she helped the hephestus cabin out which left her covered in soot and smelling like a firework. she helped clean out the pegasus stalls, allowing connor and travis to leave early and do as they please. all of that before ten in the morning! she marched her way to breakfast when it was called, putting stuff on her plate to ultimately scrape it all off into the fire, prayers and wishes for percy’s return and safety on loop in her mind. then, she had what chiron liked to call ‘check-ups’ but it was just therapy. she wouldn’t go if he hadn’t threatened to take away her title of camp counselor, something she prided herself on. so, she went, and she lied and said she definitely didn’t cry late at night and she definitely slept through the night and didn’t wake up from nightmares of her little brother contorted in unnatural ways and covered in blood.

leo would say his day was going pretty well, on the other hand. if you ignore the part that his best friend got amnesia, his bully turned into some tornado thing, both of his best friends fell into the grand canyon only to fly back up, and coach hedge was half goat. actually, his day was pretty crap too. now, he was sitting in some chariot thing, with a buff guy that had an inclination for rainbows and a blonde girl that was beyond disappointed by them for just being them. then, another tornado thing showed up, damaging the chariot and sending them rapidly towards the ground, though butch managed to still hold some control. good news was that they were at they’re location, bad news was that landing was going to be a bitch. the blonde girl leaned over the side of the chariot, looking around for someone.

“what are you doing?!” leo called over the rushing wind, looking at her like she was crazy, which took a lot considering the day he’s had.

“saving our lives. what time is it?” she asked, frantically, and leo just continued to stare.

“you’re asking for the time now?!”

“around 11, why does it matter?” piper replied, her grip firm on the side of the chariot.

“because we’re lucky!” the blonde girl replied with a wide grin before cupping her mouth, “y/n!”

“don’t feel very lucky right now,” leo muttered.

y/n marched away from the big house, muttering about the centaur under her breath before hearing a shout for her name. she frowned, looking around and seeing no one. then she looked up, her shoulders sagging as she noticed the chariot rapidly heading towards camp, a familiar blonde leaning over the edge, waving her hands and basically jumping up and down while she called out to y/n.

“annabeth!?” y/n called back, quickly breaking out in a run to get a closer look. she squinted, and noticed one of the wheels was missing.

“oh, gods,” y/n huffed before motioning towards the lake, “butch! go to the lake!”

“the lake? this high up, we might as well just jump off into the ground now,” jason stated, tilting his head at the blonde, annabeth, who seemed rather giddy even though they were most certainly about to die.

“not if the water comes to us,” she replied with a shrug, leaving the three to stare at her.

“oh, she’s cray-cray,” leo grumbled to himself, glancing down at the water that would certainly feel like cement if they jumped. the other blonde stood at the beach, other kids in orange t-shirts beginning to gather and stare.

“you guys have to jump!” y/n called, knowing she couldn’t catch all five of them and the chariot and the pegasus. she knew butch would look out for the pegasus and unclip him so he wouldn’t be injured. but still.

“i will not!” piper insisted, if anything, she tightening her hold on the chariot.

“you will die if you stay on,” annabeth told her, before gripping piper’s shoulders, “you have to trust me.”

“we just met you,” leo argued, causing annabeth to look over her shoulder at him.

“that’s when trust works best,” she reasoned and leo swallowed thickly, as she was starting to convince him.

“annie! running out of time here!” the girl from the beach called nervously.

“okay,” leo breathed out, causing piper to look at him like he’s crazy too.

“leo?!”

“look, if we’re gonna die anyways, i wanna be cool while i do it,” he joked back, like usual, moving closer to the open end. piper took a few more seconds to decide before moving towards him, a false confidence settling over her face.

without another thought, the five of them quickly ditched the chariot, which sent them plummeting towards the water…which seemed to rise to meet them, allowing them to simply slip into the bubbles, no so much as a sting against their skin. then they washed up against the beach, like the ocean was spitting them out. leo coughed up some of the water that managed to invade his lungs, rolling onto his back as he looked up at the sky. a girl’s face intercepted his view, the sun behind her head and hiding her features in shadows. he could make out her golden waves for hair, which were beginning to look like a halo from his view.

“you okay?” she asked, holding a hand out to pull him up.

“just peachy,” he muttered back, getting his arms behind himself and pushing his body into a half seated position. the sun moved from behind the girl’s face to next to it, allowing him to see her features finally. she gave him a soft smile, something like a laugh leaving her lips as she tilted her head at him. all the air squeezed out of his lungs and he felt like he could burst into flames, something he was rapidly trying to get under control.

“you could be having a worse day. i could have been busy,” the girl mused, shrugging her shoulders and leo opened his mouth to reply but the words seemed to die on his tongue, only sounds coming out. the girl giggled, sweetly, and it was like hearing the ocean in a seashell. then, a loud crash interrupted the moment, y/n’s head instantly shooting up and watching the chariot sink into the lake. she winced, quickly rising to her feet as another girl marched to the edge of the water, a shocked look on her face.

“nyssa, nyssa, please don’t freak out! i- i can get it out, promise!” the girl quickly reasoned, following with her hands outstretched like the other girl was a feral beast.

“y/n, we can’t build another one! the curse-”

“doesn’t exist. it’s all mental,” the blonde girl, assumable y/n, muttered in protest, earning her a glare.

“y/n!” nyssa huffed, throwing her hands up.

“i’ll get it out right now,” insisted y/n, raising her hands before another loud crunch was heard, the water rippling with an even louder gurgle. y/n winced again, lowering her hands as nyssa’s mouth dropped in shock.

“it didn’t-”

“it did,” y/n confirmed before nyssa screamed with her mouth closed, marching off. y/n closed her eyes, taking a calming breath before turning to the crowd that had gathered around the new arrivals.

“hey! shoo! nothing to see here,” she joked, waving away the other people in orange, watching them slowly leave, not without a few more glances at the newly found trio. she spun back to the new arrivals, helping piper to her feet before turning to annabeth, pulling her into a hug.

“hey, you!” she cheered before pulling back, noticing the blonde’s discouraged look, “hey, he’s okay. we’d feel it if he wasn’t. go get chiron, yeah? i’ve got this.”

“i know…but, it’s hard,” annabeth whispered back. y/n patted her cheek lovingly before gently steering her away.

“hello! sorry, this is one of the more chaotic ways i’ve seen people come to camp! busy, busy, that’s me,” y/n stated as she approached the three with a welcoming smile.

“i’m sorry, but who are you? why are we here? where even is here?” piper questioned rapidly, still trying to wring the water out of her shirt.

“agh, this is going terribly,” y/n huffed before taking a quick breath, “let’s start over, yeah? i’m y/n l/n. this is camp half-blood, which is a camp for people like us, children of gods and morals. therein lies the ‘half blood.’”

“god? like, god and jesus?” leo questioned, squinting and tilting his head. y/n gave him a soft smile, which caused his bpm to surely spike.

“no, greek gods. athena, poseidon, zeus,” y/n listed quickly.

“jupiter,” jason corrected before he could stop himself, frowning as the word left his mouth. y/n turned to him with a small frown too, tilting her head.

“that…that’s roman…interesting,” she muttered before shaking her head, “sorry. i never asked your names.”

“you apologize a lot. i’m piper mclean,” piper stated, holding her hand out to shake y/n’s already stretched hand.

“sorry,” y/n jokes, winking, causing piper to let out a little laugh. she then turned to jason, who seemed to be deep in thought, before he shook it off and looked at her.

“jason…grace.” he replied, unconfidently.

“you…you don’t seem so sure,” y/n replied, giving his hand a quick shake with a frown.

“i’m not. i’ve- i’ve got amnesia,” he replied, causing y/n’s frown to deepen.

“i’m sorry to hear that. i’ll make sure to tell will. he’s our resident healer, maybe he can figure it out,” y/n told him, giving him a soft smile to which he nodded off, before y/n turned to leo. she had to admit, he’d caught her eyes easily. his curly hair and olive skin, how his hands never seemed to sit still (more so than expected of demigods), the way he smiled at her. but, she’d closed off that part of her heart a long time ago. she didn’t have time for it, she’d tell herself late at night.

“leo valdez. bad boy supreme,” he offered up, causing y/n to raise an eyebrow at him as he briefly shook her hand before flipping it over and pressing his lips against. she rolled her eyes, fighting off a blush.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you're a child of aphrodite,” she replied with a huff, slowly pulling her hand back.

“right back at ya,” leo mused, proudly with a wink.

“down boy,” mocked y/n before turning away and to the other two present, “alright, so i’ll start of the tour of camp half-blood! don't worry, you're gonna love it here!”

you were expert at this tour, sure you could give it blindfolded. you told little anecdotes, even managing to earn you a smile from jason, something you proudly celebrated. you walked backwards as you called out the cabins, pointing with both hands like a flight attendant signaling exits. at least, you thought that's what you looked like. you really had no idea as you've never been flying and probably never would, zeus not exactly a big fan of yours. for such a short tour, quite a lot of claiming went down, something that had you fondly thinking of your brother and not so fondly thinking of luke castellan. you ended your tour at the big house, knowing chiron would be wanting to talk to them, jason especially.

"chiron's gonna take it from here. if you've got any questions, don't be afraid to seek me out!! well, enjoy camp!" y/n mused, clapping her hands before going to walk away but chiron called out to her, ignoring the wide eyed stares he was getting from the trio for being part horse.

"y/n, dear, would you be so kind as to check on annabeth? i worry for her. oh, and will mentioned something about needing help in the infirmary...if you'd be willing," he stated and leo could tell from the minor twitch of her eye that y/n wished she wasn't so willing.

"of course, chrion. when have i ever said no to you?" the girl asked, plastering a smile on her face that clearly took a lot out of her before spinning around on her heels and marching away. and leo's eyes stayed on her, and while they'd typically drift down to her ass, he couldn't bring himself to look downwards as his worry for her overtook his soul.

dinner finally came around, leo sort of following nyssa like a lost puppy. he wasn’t completely sure of himself in this place yet, and nyssa was more than happy to show him the ropes. she grabbed her own dinner, showing him how before one of their other siblings calls for her. she left him and leo glanced around before his eyes settled on a nearby blonde, a smile growing on his lips. he slid in behind her, pretending to be excited over a roll and plopping it down on his plate. y/n glanced over at him, a small smile appearing on her lips before she continued walking and inspecting the food presented to them.

“so, day one. how’s it going?” she asked, sighing as she glanced at the food. her stomach was aching for some food, but her guilt held stronger. Who knows the last time percy had a good meal…or even if he was alive-

“eh. you know, as far as first days in new places go, this isn’t too bad. once got swirly within the first hour of being at a new school,” leo mused, throwing together a random plate of food. y/n laughed lightly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she grabbed an apple.

“give a few hours, the ares kids can smell fresh meat,” y/n joked back, leaning over with a wink before walking away from the food towards her table. leo's lips twitched into a small frown before quickly grabbed a bowl of fruit before following.

“so, are there like clique tables i should watch out for or?” leo prompted, fully expecting to sit with y/n. she looked over at him, her brows furrowing.

“nyssa didn’t tell you? you sit with your siblings. each god and goddess has a table. yours is over there,” explained y/n, pointing over at the hephestus table while still walking towards her lonely table. leo continued to follow, a frown on his lips.

“so…you sit by yourself?” he questioned, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, “a girl like you shouldn’t have to sit by herself.”

“well, i wasn’t always alone…look, these- these are rules, okay? i’m sorry, leo, but you’ve got to sit at your table,” y/n replied, shaking her head as if ridding herself of memories. leo continued to frown before setting the bowl of fruit down on her table and sliding it over to her. she looked up at him, confusion clear on her face.

“you didn’t grab enough to eat,” he explained with a shrug before giving her a salute as he walked back to his table. y/n’s eyes never once left him until he was with his siblings and managed to catch her gaze, the girl promptly averting her eyes and missing the smile that grew on leo’s lips. she looked down at the bowl of fruit fondly before digging in, eating her fill for the first time in months.

“what’s her story?” leo asked over dinner, his eyes trained on y/n as his fork passively stabbed at something on his plate. nyssa looked up from her food at him before following his gaze to y/n.

“who? y/n? ha, you must think highly of yourself,” nyssa scoffed, noting the ways his eyes practically formed hearts. leo sputtered, turning to nyssa with a glare.

“what?”

“she’s got every guy in camp half-blood on her tail. i wish you the best of luck trying to win her over, many people have tried and failed,” nyssa replied with a shrug.

“not what i meant,” leo huffed, returning his eyes to his plate. nyssa looked over at him, frowning.

“what did you mean then?”

“how’d she get here? what’s she like? stuff like that,” leo answered before shaking his head, “look it’s stupid-”

“she’s enigmatic. nicest girl you’ll ever meet, but harsh when she needs to be. she never backs down from anything; she once performed a whole choreographed song and dance during lunch because she lost a bet. poor y/n had to do stall duties for a week after that, but she did it with a smile, telling everyone it was so worth it. y/n l/n is the best of all of us,” nyssa cut in, her words so honest and truthful that leo got sucked in.

“her brother, percy, went missing a few months ago. she lived for him, everything she did was for her brother. technically, they aren’t even full siblings, like you and i. but, they weren’t like that. they became family quickly. she likes to pretend that she’s fine, but everyone knows she’s not. that bowl of fruit…it’s the first thing i’ve seen her eat in a few weeks," confessed nyssa, giving leo a pointed look. he couldn't help the pride that filled his chest at the thought.

and then determination quickly settled into the boys bones. he was determined to make sure she kept eating, three meals a day at least. he was determined to make her laugh, help her find some joy. he was determined to ensure that the daughter of the sea god never saw another cloudy day, not if leo had anything to say about it.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez

280 notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 7 months

Note

Bestie that angst blurb omg so good! I feel like this could lead to another angsty moment where Harry decides not to pressure her and tries to “forget” about her in a romantic sense and he goes on a date which y/n knows about and like that leads to feeling confessions

the besties ask and they shall receive ! this is a continuation of this blurb from the ymls universe :)

word count: 1.1k

content warnings: none ! just some good ol' conflict resolution, y/n finally accepting her feelings, and harry being a little shit

. . .

"Harry's where?"

Through squinted eyes and a wrinkle in his brows, Dom slowly repeats his words: "On a... date?" then, when Y/N doesn't reply, he tacks on: "I thought you guys were doing the whole non-romantic co-parenting thing. Why are you freaking out?"

"I am not freaking out!" Y/N exclaims, though the cogs in her brain are quickly spewing out anxious thoughts and scenarios: What did Harry's date look like? Were they more attractive than her? Did they already have kids? How did they meet? Would Harry abandon her for them?

"You are, I can see it in your face," Dom says, sitting up in his seat, "Listen, if you don't want him to see other people, all you have to do is tell him that you like him."

"Oh, shut the fuck up with that, will you?"

He cackles. "You seriously still think you don't have feelings for the guy?"

"I don't." she says with a shrug. "I just want him to be a good dad to our baby. It would be fucked up if he pissed off just to be with some other person."

"Harry would never do that and you know it. You're making excuses, which is exactly why you're fighting."

Y/N rolls her eyes and wraps her lips around the straw tucked into her Diet Coke, "We're not fighting. We're just... strictly talking about baby stuff right now."

"Right," Dom replies. "Well, he told me different."

"What did he tell you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, hm?"

She groans, a look of annoyance on her face as she presses a hand to her bump. "Can you be nice to your pregnant friend and just tell me what he said?"

"No," Dom laughs, "Talk to him yourself, Y/N. You're running away from him because you like him, and for some reason dating your baby's father is your worst nightmare."

"Shut up!"

. . .

Jamie was nice. Really, a sweetheart that Harry could see himself falling for. That is, if he didn't have a giant, raging crush on Y/N.

After their argument a week ago, Harry decided he wasn't going to pressure her into trying a romantic relationship with him. In her defense, they'd decided on platonic co-parenting, and attempting to date during the pregnancy could really screw things up. He wasn't in the business of convincing Y/N to do anything with him, so he made the conscious choice to try dating.

Turns out, dating sucks when you're head-over-heels for someone else.

And he hates the fact that he's driving home from his date with no intention of ever contacting that woman ever again, only to go over to Y/N's house, who texted him 20 minutes ago. She'd said something about having trouble picking out a carseat for the baby, and since Harry already purchased one for his car two months ago, she wanted his opinion.

Except, when he knocks on her front door and she answers, she looks... unusually unkept. Flushed cheeks, hair a mess, and her lips swollen.

"Are you... okay?" he asks, toeing his Vans off in the entryway of her home.

"Yeah! Why wouldn't I be okay?" Y/N replies, a slightly panicked tone to her voice.

"Because you seem like you just got caught doing something you shouldn't."

She rolls her eyes and for a moment, a wash of relief comes over Harry. "I asked you to come over, didn't I?"

"Yeah," he mumbles as he follows her into the living room, "So, what carseats are you between? I got one from Evenflo and it has pretty good safety features—"

"You went on a date."

His eyebrows shoot up in shock, though her bluntness should never surprise him anymore. He clears his throat.

"Um, yeah. Earlier today."

"How did it go?"

Harry shrugs his shoulders, "It was fine."

"Well, will you be seeing them now?"

"What's with the third-degree, Y/N?" he fires back, growing semi-annoyed by her sudden line of questioning.

"Nothing!" she exclaims, holding her bump as she sits down on the edge of the couch. Silently, he takes a seat across from her. "Dom just told me you were going out with someone, so I was curious about how it went."

"Well, I just figured I should... you know, try to move forward." Harry replies vaguely, picking at his fingernails.

"Yeah. I get that." Y/N glances down at the floor, keeping her gaze on the carpet. "So... will they be around now, or...?"

"No, Y/N," Harry sighs, lifting his hand to run it through his hair. "Unfortunately, I'm not really interested in dating other people. Sort of stuck on someone."

"Oh."

"Is this why you wanted me to come over? To grill me about my date?"

She shakes her head, drumming her fingertips over the curve of her belly. "No, not really. Well, I guess this whole thing was dependent on how your date went, actually."

When Harry doesn't reply, she takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She keeps her eyes low, just over the largest part of her bump. Fuck Dom for being right, she thinks to herself.

"Remember last week when you said we had chemistry?" she asks, swallowing harshly.

Harry's heartbeat quickens. "Yeah. I remember that."

"Right," she nods slowly, "Well, um, I think you were... right."

Silence.

It feels like it goes on forever.

Wringing her hands in her lap, she looks up for an inkling of response from Harry.

Much to her surprise, she's met with a boyish smirk.

"You like me." he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was right all along."

"Okay, Harry, you don't have to get cocky about it, I was building up to it—"

"I knew it!" he exclaims, hopping up from his spot on the couch. Y/N's cheeks flare up in a deep pink hue, her entire body warming from the admittance finally being out in the open.

"Can you stop gloating—"

"Oh, you're such a bullshitter!" he nearly shouts, making Y/N wince, "I fucking knew you liked me all this time!"

"Shut up! You're being so annoying!"

Harry laughs loudly, a grin stretched over his lips as he kneels down in front of her. The embarrassed expression quickly swaps to something gentler, a small smile appearing on her face.

"We can take it slow," he murmurs. Hesitantly, he reaches out to hold her hand. She's never been big on physical touch, but she accepts it, intertwining their fingers together and giving his hand a tiny squeeze. "There's no rush. No pressure."

She nods, her lips pressed into a tight line. "I'm not the easiest to deal with, I know, so... slow is good, I think."

Quickly, he shakes his head. "I wouldn't change any part of you, Y/N. Your grumpy ass is all I've been able to think about for months."

She chuckles lightly and shakes her head.

"Can you... will you kiss me?" she asks softly, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Look at you, already going soft on me," Harry teases before reaching forward to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

#:)))))))#it happened !#bestie asks #ymls concept #writing

353 notes · View notes

yamujiburo · 7 months

Note

the number 4 prompt from Aery's got my brain working. I'm just gonna freewrite on the spot, apologies if this is... wayyy too much. Ahem... Delia stood in the kitchen, her eyes focused on the sink as she cleaned the dishes from breakfast, the gentle thrum of Mimey's psychic power as he levitated the clean dishes onto the drying rack, and the occasional grunt from Pikachu as he licked and chewed the left over food from the yet to be washed plates were the only things keeping her, unsuccessfully, from replaying the events of that morning in her head for the umpteenth time. Ash had been late to breakfast, not an unheard of occurrence, he did have friends all over the world after all, and some nights would be spent in group calls with them just catching up, or he'd be busy researching and planning out his next trip. What made this morning so strange was that when he finally did make his way to the table, he was in shambles. Bags hung under his eyes, which were red, bloodshot, and puffy. Pikachu was clambering from one shoulder to the other repeatedly, a concerned expression on his face as he nuzzled at his trainer's cheeks, repeating "Pikapi" over and over again. He hadn't said a word as he sat down, and slowly ate the food in front of him, Pikachu finally leaping from his shoulder after another few minutes to eat his own breakfast. Delia had been concerned, but didn't press him, she knew her son, and hoped that some food in his belly would coax what was troubling him from him. When he finally did speak, his plate mostly empty, his voice was hoarse, and rough, even more so than it usually was. "Jessie... can we talk about.. some of the stuff that happened while we were adventuring?" Delia glanced at her girlfriend, formerly a nemesis of sorts to her son. She had a textbook on Pokémon anatomy in her hands she had been studying from. "Anything you want to talk about, we can talk about in front of Delia." Was the response she had given. "It's about the Tree of Beginning." Ash replied.

Delia blinked, she watched as Jessie lowered her textbook, put a strip of paper in it to mark her place, and closed it, before wordlessly getting up, walking over and putting her hand on Ash's back, he stood up and allowed her to guide him out into the backyard. That had been almost an hour ago, the sound of the water draining from the sink brought Delia back to the present, Mimey's footsteps growing faint as he moved off to do the morning dusting, Pikachu leaping onto the windowsill and peering through it, his ears drooping in concern. Delia peered through the window as well, spotting her girlfriend holding her son close, rubbing and patting his back as he clearly cried into her shoulder, their voices muffled into gibberish by the distance and the closed window.

Delia tried to distract herself with her usual housekeeping duties before she left for work, but found herself unable to focus, her concern and curiosity, and to her own displeasure, her slight jealousy keeping her from being able to do anything. In the end, she settled for just sitting on the couch, stroking over Pikachu's back as he curled up in her lap. Another forty minutes would go by before the back door, opened, Pikachu's ears shooting up before he raced over and leapt onto the table. Delia stood and followed her son's Pokémon, noting how.. small, her son looked. He was hunched, likely from the multiple states of exhaustion he was dealing with. "Get some sleep, Ash." Jessie gently said, giving his back one last soothing pat. He silently nodded, picking up Pikachu from the table and carrying him upstairs slowly. Delia watched him disappear up the stairs, waiting until she heard the door to his room open and close, before turning to Jessie. "Is.. everything alright?" Jessie took a deep breath, shuddering slightly at the end, before responding. "He'll be fine. He just... had a very vivid nightmare reliving something that happened to us." "What exactly was it about?" She prodded, gently, carefully. Jessie gave her girlfriend a look and opened her mouth, not saying anything for a few seconds as she clearly ran the conversation over in her head, before sighing. "Delia, I love you, and normally, I would tell you. It's not like it's not my story to tell as well, I was there, I went through it too. But..." Delia looked at the floor, did her own son not trust her enough to tell her things? "But" Jessie continued. "Ash will open up to you about it all in time. He promised me that, but for now, he just doesn't want to worry you." She looked up, Jessie was smiling at her. "He's a good kid, he loves you, and he doesn't want you fretting over him." She finished, stepping forward and kissing her forehead. Delia smiled, kissing Jessie's cheek in return. "I'll still worry and fret about him, but.. at least he has someone to talk about those things with. Even if it's not me."

WAAAAAAH this is so sweeeeet ;0; @aerys-universes

#ask yam #fanfiction

285 notes · View notes

chaostheoryy · 2 years

Text

Duly Noted (A College AU)

[Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X GN!Reader]

Summary: As a studious undergrad on track for graduating with stellar marks, missing class because of the flu was by far the worst way to start your week. Fortunately for you, there’s one bright-eyed classmate who cares about you more than his reputation as a C-minus college athlete.

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Well, since my inbox has been dry as the Sahara, I decided to come up with an idea of my own. So, without further ado, here’s the college AU Rooster fic that no one asked for! (No beta, per usual. We out here raw dogging these mistakes.)

Where are you?

Still in bed…

You’re playing hooky without me???

I’m not playing hooky! I’m sick!

You okay?

Yeah I’m alright. Got the flu I think.

Need me to get you anything? I can bring you medicine or snacks after class.

Nah, I’m good. Thank you though!

If you change your mind, lemme know.

Bradley frowned. As benign as the flu was, the thought of you being ill left a bad taste in his mouth. He knew fully well just how much that course meant to you and your degree. While he spent every class lounging in his chair and letting his mind wander to God knows what, you would bury your nose in your notebook or laptop and take notes on everything the professor said as if your life depended on it. He could only imagine just how disappointed you were missing out on a whole lecture’s worth of information.

Dammit…

As much as it pained him to admit it, he knew right away what had to be done.

“Hey, ’Tasha,” he whispered. “Natasha.”

The dark haired woman one row in front of him turned. Eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a sharp line of irritation, her gaze made daggers feel blunt.

“The hell do you want, Bradshaw?”

“You got a pen I can borrow?”

The question took her by complete surprise. Her brow raised, the scowl on her face melting into an amused smirk.

“You’re joking.”

Bob Floyd, her glasses-wearing friend and study partner, was drawn to her disbelief. “What is it?”

“Jockstrap over here is actually going to take notes.”

Bob glanced between her and Bradley. It took him a second to process what was happening but as soon as it hit him, he cracked a massive grin that rivaled Natasha’s.

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Alright, don’t make a big deal of it. You gonna lend me a pen or not?”

“Y’know, part of me wants to say no,” Natasha mused, “But watching you exercise those dusty ol’ brain cells is honestly a rare treat.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She reached into her bag and grabbed an extra pen which she tossed back to him. “Give that back to me after class or I’m gonna beat your ass.”

Bringing two fingers to his temple, he gave a little salute. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, unable to hide smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

For the first time that semester, Bradley Bradshaw’s untouched notebook was stained with ink.

* * * * *

You had fallen back asleep within minutes of his last text. The previous night had been an absolute nightmare. Violent chills had racked your body and made it impossible to get comfortable. Combining the shivers with the upset stomach and stuffy nose, you were miserable. Any rest you could get throughout the day was God-sent.

Your early morning nap lasted a good two hours. It was the most sound, dreamless sleep you’d had in the past week and, if it weren’t for the fact that Bradley called you just after 10am, you probably would have slept three times as long.

“Hello?” You answered groggily.

On the other end of the line, Bradley hissed. “Shit. Did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay. I’ve got all day to sleep. What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna make you get out of bed but I kinda need you to open the door.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Well, I know you said you didn’t need anything but I stopped at the store for stuff anyway. Can you come let me in? I would have one of your roommates open the door but I guess they’re both in class or something.”

You blinked. He was outside of your apartment.

“Yeah, hang on. I’ll be right down.”

Despite the protests of your body, you hurried out of bed. You ditched the sweat-soaked pajama shirt in the laundry basket and threw on a clean tee before stepping out of your room into the main hallway. A short walk to the front door and you pried it open to find Bradley standing on your welcome mat with paper bags of groceries nestled in both arms. He perked up the second he laid eyes on you.

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft smile.

“Hey. Come on in.”

You stepped back to let him inside, closing the door behind him as he headed for the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time he’d come over and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. As one of your closest friends and long-time classmate—it was honestly crazy to think you’d been in classes together as far back as the 7th grade—the two of you spent more time together than apart. Neither of you would have had it any other way.

“I’d give you a hug,” you said as he started unpacking the grocery bags, “But I don’t want to get you sick too.”

He chuckled. “I think I could take the hit.”

“Just ‘cause you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

You spotted a bottle of Gatorade on the counter where he’d unloaded stacks of soup cans and Tylenol. Taking the bottle, you slunk over to the couch where you could watch from a safe distance. The last thing you wanted was to share your germs with one of the school’s star baseball players. As much shit as Jake Seresin gave you and Bradley, something told you that the dickwad would be all the more annoying if he found out you were the one to force Bradley onto the bench for a week.

“How was Simpson’s class this morning?”

“Oh, thrilling as always,” he replied caustically.

“Bob answer every question?”

“You know it.”

You laughed. “Figures. At least we know that means somebody besides me knows their shit. I’ll have to get his notes later so I can catch up.”

“No need. I got you covered.”

Bradley paused his kitchen organization and dug in the backpack he’d discarded on the dining room table. Grinning proudly, he pulled out his notebook. Yes. His notebook—the one and only busted red spiral notebook with a sticker of a goose in aviators slapped on the bottom right corner of its cover.

“Wait. Don’t tell me…You actually took notes for me?”

“Sure did!”

He strolled over and dropped the notebook in your lap before collapsing on the cozy little armchair across from you. The look on his face as he watched you go through his notes was priceless. With big eyes and a triumphant smile, he bore an uncanny resemblance to a golden retriever waiting for his owner to give him a treat. And boy did he deserve one.

The thoroughness of his notes left you stunned. With six pages of organized, neatly scripted notes, it was by far the most effort you’d ever seen him put into classwork.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you said, “You really went all out on this didn’t you?”

He chuckled. “If I wanted any shot at making something up to your standards, I kinda had to. Plus, Bob and Natasha were eyeing me the entire lecture. I think I finally get what peer pressure’s like now.”

A dull ache echoed in the back of your head as a reminder of your crappy night’s sleep and irritating affliction. You should’ve gone back to bed but you couldn’t pry your eyes from Bradley’s notebook. It meant the world to you that he’d done that. To think that he’d actually put that much effort into notes taken on your behalf when he wouldn’t even have bothered to jot down a single bullet point for himself.

You flipped through the pages again, unable to hold back an awestruck sigh. “God, I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

The statement was out of your mouth and lingering in the air long before your brain processed the consequences. What on God’s green Earth compelled you to say that? Were you high on over the counter flu meds? Or had the fever actually fried your brain?

You wanted to take it back. Especially when you dared to glance up and found Bradley gaping at you.

Oh, for the love of God, you thought as fresh, non-fever related color rushed to your cheeks. Of all the ways to confess, this is the one you go with?

In all honesty, you should have seen it coming. It was only a matter of time.

He’d been your best friend for the better part of a decade. Inseparable from the moment you met. Every big life event from birthdays to buying your first car, he was the first one to celebrate with you. Hell, the guy passed up a full ride to play baseball at the University of Florida just so he could go to the same school as you.

Slowly but surely, as the years rolled on and childhood faded into the past, the friendship that you treasured became the key to your happiness. The goofy, thrill-seeking kid you’d come to adore and trust with your entire being grew into a selfless gentleman. Though he never lost that edge that separated him from perfectionists and academics, he’d clearly come into his own. It would have been impossible for you not to fall for him.

“Did you just say you wanna kiss me?”

Bradley’s voice reeled you back in from the sea of your internal torment. He didn’t sound angry or even disgusted by the notion. In fact, he almost sounded delighted—a theory that was backed the moment you looked over and saw a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and, despite the outcry from every defense mechanism tucked away in your subconscious, you forced yourself to reply. “I did.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice registering just above a whisper.

“Good.”

Your brow furrowed at his reply. You wanted to ask what he meant, to see if your confession was something the foundations of your friendship could withstand. But he was on his feet and crossing the distance between his chair and the couch before a question was even formulated in your mind.

“Bradley, hold on. I don’t wanna get you si—“

The protest died on your tongue. Warm, gentle hands cupped your jaw as his lips met yours. It was a sweet kiss. There was no hurry, no hesitation. Just the taste of a decade’s worth of fondness and pent up intimacy. Between the soothing caress of his fingertips at the nape of your neck and the bristle of his mustache just above your upper lip, you swore his kiss was better than heaven itself.

His hands kept their post along your jaw when he pulled back to look at you. The smile on his face was unbearably reverent. Anything softer than that look in his eyes and you would have suffocated.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” You asked.

“How long have we been friends?”

Both of you chuckled. Turns out you weren’t the only one who’d gradually fallen over the years.

“Well, thank you,” you said.

“For what?”

You patted the notebook still sitting in your lap. “For thinking of me this morning. And for not flipping out when I said I wanted to kiss you.”

“This may come as a surprise,” he said with a lopsided smirk, “But I think about you a lot.”

Your brow cocked. “Oh, really?”

While it was clear from his tone that he meant it in an innocent, heartfelt manner, you couldn’t help but toy with the more explicit connotation of his words. And let’s be honest, you were guilty of having thoughts that strayed a little too far off the path of purity.

“Hey!” Bradley’s hands fell from your neck and one of his palms playfully shoved you back against the couch by the forehead. “Settle down. You’re supposed to be sick, not horny.”

You reached out to smack his thigh. “And you’re not supposed to be kissing people when they’re sick, dumbass. Jake’s gonna kill me if you end up missing a single practice.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I’ll just OD on Emergen-C when I get home.”

He ignored your childish pout and plopped down on the couch next to you. Rather than drape his arm over the back of your seat like he normally did, he hooked it around your shoulders and pulled you into the warmth of his embrace. Your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his neck where the scent of his cologne lulled you into dream-like contentment. You’d always thought he smelled good but nuzzling into him like that made it hard to overlook just how right it felt to be engulfed in his presence.

“You need anything?” He asked after a long moment of agreeable silence. “I can make you some soup if you want. I also got some mac n’ cheese if you’re feeling up to it. I don’t know how bitchy your stomach is acting right now.”

“Bradley?”

“Hm?”

“Shut up and let me fall asleep on you.”

A delightful, weightless sensation twisted in your stomach when you felt a chuckle rumble in his chest. Now there was a feeling you never realized you wanted.

“Alright. You sleep. We’ll get you to eat something when you wake up,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed your approval and closed your eyes. All of your senses zeroed in on him. The way he smelled of cedarwood and ocean breezes, the way his chest rose and fell beneath you with each breath, the way his thumb absentmindedly stroked your shoulder. All of it was new and exciting. And yet, at the same time, it was as if you’d been indulging in the gifts of his adoration your entire life.

In a stark contrast to the evening prior, you fell asleep in record time.

#Ah yes a shameless Friends to Lovers trope story #Do people even write AU reader inserts?#Well I do I guess #Until I get prompts and story ideas we're just gonna have to take whatever my goofy little brain comes up with #Bradley Bradshaw X Reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw X Reader #Rooster X Reader #Reader Insert #Top Gun Reader Insert #Top Gun Imagines #GN!Reader #My fic #Top Gun: Maverick Fic #Miles Teller X Reader

596 notes · View notes

waywardrose · 5 months

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 27

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

6.9k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: This was going to be the last chapter, but it's too long. I'm splitting it and posting what's completed. Expect a last chapter and epilogue. Thank you for sticking with me!

The doorbell chime made him start, which was stupid. An invasion wouldn’t start with someone ringing the goddamn doorbell. He stared unseeing at the den’s television while MTV went to commercial.

Also, he should be used to the noise. Steve’s house was a hub of activity, between the phone ringing and the doorbell going off and people talking.

Footsteps thumped overhead. He identified that as the man of the house himself walking to the front door. A moment later, multiple voices, all male, rumbled from the foyer. Several pairs of footsteps moved farther into the house.

Then your voice joined the mix. He couldn’t gauge your tone, other than you weren’t pissed. He turned down the TV volume and frowned at the basement ceiling when you kept talking. A male voice said something you replied to.

Eddie eased from the sectional couch and padded to the foot of the stairs. Of course, it didn’t gain him anything. The door at the top remained closed, muffling any conversation. He considered creeping up the stairs, but he didn’t know where the creaks hid in the treads.

He put a knee on the third tread and crawled forward to half-lay on the stairs. Now midway to the door, he could distinguish between the voices. Yours, of course, Steve’s every so often, then three others.

No one sounded defensive or upset, so that eased his mind. Somewhat.

Everyone kept talking, though. He racked his brain for what they could be discussing. It probably had something to do with yesterday’s visit. He hoped it wasn’t government officials who’d changed their minds about not dragging him to prison. Or worse yet, to some underground lab to conduct experiments on him.

What if they were here for you, though?

Maybe they’d figured out you had magic and wanted you to do stuff for them. While in their clutches, they’d take bio-samples from you. They’d clone you — was that even possible? — or make babies in petri dishes — that had to be possible — to grow a whole witch army and take over the world.

Of course, the thought of having a second you intrigued him. Would a clone kiss like you? Taste like you? Would she moan like you do when he sinks inside her? Would one of you sit on his face while the other rode his dick?

His cock grew heavy and hot in his borrowed briefs.

Jesus H. Christ, he chided. Fucking focus.

It was quiet. Too quiet. He strained to hear what was going on.

Soft footsteps shuffled near.

He shot off the stairs and turned towards the TV. He couldn’t be discovered hanging around near the stairs with a half-chub like a perv. And the sleep-pants did nothing to hide it. His gaze darted to the VHS tape storage cabinet by the TV.

That would work.

He careened around the scuffed coffee table. The loops of the cable-box controller tangled around his foot. Like Gandalf in the Balrog’s whip, he’d been caught.

He hissed, “Shit, shit, shit,” as he hopped to the cabinet, shaking his foot free.

The basement door opened. He grabbed the cabinet for balance. A drawer of tapes wobbled open. He shoved it closed. Tapes clattered. Whoever opened the drawer next was going to have to repack it. Whoops. But it was cool. Everything was cool. He checked his crotch. His half-chub had subsided.

“Eddie?” you said as you descended the stairs.

He faced you, propping an elbow on top of the cabinet.

You’d changed into those black jeans he liked. They hugged your thighs and ass. He willed his dick to stay soft.

“Hey, hi, what’s up?”

You gave him a curious look as you stepped down into the basement.

“You okay?”

He waved a hand in a general sort of way.

“Other than, you know, everything, yeah, I’m okay.”

You nodded, though he could tell you knew something was off.

He said, “I was going to pick out a movie.” He glanced at the stairs. “Is everything okay up there?”

You approached him like he was a cornered dog.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, but don’t freak out—”

“Freak out about what?” he asked, warning sirens blaring through his mind.

“The police are here, and they want to take your statement.”

He straightened.

“Statement about what?”

“The night Chrissy died.” You held up your hands before he could protest. “I just gave them my statement about my interactions with Jason Carver. Who is dead.” With eyes wide, you gave him a leading look and head tilt. “I know you’ve had interactions with Jason, too.”

He nodded along as the implication clicked into place.

“Yeah, I’ve had interactions with Carver.”

“You want to give a statement to the police about that night with Jason and Chrissy?”

No, he did not, yet if he didn’t, he’d never be free. Vecna would continue to ruin his life. While Eddie still wasn’t sure about the existence of an afterlife, he wouldn’t give that asshat the satisfaction.

He girded his metaphorical loins — why did everything circle back to his crotch? — and headed upstairs. You walked behind him, not crowding him, but close enough to be supportive. He wanted to look at you, really look at you, and confess his love again. Just in case this all fell apart. There wasn’t time — and he was certain if he did, he’d wuss-out. Compound that with the fact he couldn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, he’d definitely wuss-out.

Taking two steps into the living room, he froze. He must be hallucinating. Chief Hopper, the very one who’d been there at Dad’s arrest, who supposedly died in the Starcourt fire, stood by the dining table. Though there was considerably less of him around the middle, his hair was buzzed short, and he looked like he’d lost a fight with the Wolfman, there was no question it was him.

Chief Powell sat at the table, facing the room. Metal crutches had been propped against the table next to him. Eddie recognized the deputy who stood at Powell’s left. He couldn’t recall a name, but he’d seen the deputy around town.

Steve leaned a shoulder on the tall curio cabinet behind the table. It was a King Steve pose he’d observed many a time at school. The sling and bandages were absent, courtesy of you.

You stepped beside Eddie and took his numb hand. On instinct, he curled his fingers around yours.

Hopper stepped forward, expression calm and hands placating.

“You’re not in trouble, kid.”

If it had come from anyone else, he’d consider it a lie. For a cop, Hopper had been a decent one. He’d ignored Eddie’s underage drinking at the Hideaway. He’d issued warnings instead of speeding tickets.

You turned your head to whisper, “I won’t let them take you even if they try.”

He gave a minute nod before releasing your hand and marching to the table. If they tried to arrest him, he hoped he’d retained that undead speed. He pulled out the chair across from Powell to sit.

You went to stand by Steve, who gave you a warm look. If anything happened, Eddie knew Steve would protect you and vice versa.

Powell cleared his throat and pressed the Record button on the cassette recorder to start the interrogation.

“Chief Calvin Powell and former Chief Jim Hopper speaking with Edward Munson, Monday, March 31st, 1986.” To Eddie, he said, “Mr. Munson, you’re not under arrest. All we want is your account of what happened the night of March 21st.” When he nodded, Powell said as an aside, “Note Mr. Munson nodded in understanding.” He continued, “We have multiple statements from witnesses placing you at Hawkins High School during the basketball game that night. We also have several overlapping accounts attesting to Jason Carver threatening them at gunpoint at a later date.”

Eddie nodded again, wanting to say that didn’t surprise him. However, Dad’s warning to never talk to cops kept him silent. “These folks stated Jason Carver said he’d sacrifice them for this town. They claim he’d wanted to break their bones. Does that sound like something he could do?”

Eddie glanced at you and Steve. If he followed Dad’s warning, he’d never get out of this. Of course, he didn’t have to give them everything at once. That would be out of character. He had to think like a DM and give them just enough to lead them where the party wanted them to go.

“Yeah, along with pinning all those murders on me,” he said.

Planting his elbows on a nearby chair back, Hopper said, “Sounds like he had the whole town fooled.”

He bobbed his head in agreement.

“I heard he hijacked a town hall meeting.”

Powell shifted in his seat.

“Mr. Munson, did Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your home the night of March 21st?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall the time?”

“No, not exactly.” He glanced up in thought. “I guess after ten?”

“What were they doing there?”

“Said they wanted drugs.”

“Did you sell them drugs?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have drugs.”

Which he didn’t. Now.

“But they thought you had drugs to sell?”

He met Powell’s gaze and said, “I can’t presume to know what they thought.”

Powell sighed, frustration clear.

“Alright. Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your house sometime after ten, looking to purchase drugs. Then what?”

“I left them in the living room.”

Just like he’d left Chrissy for Vecna to kill. Bait on a hook.

“To do what?”

“Get my cigarettes.”

He could do with one right about now.

“Why would you get your cigarettes?”

“Why does anyone get cigarettes?” He shrugged with a huff. “I wanted a smoke, and I forgot them in my room.”

“Then what happened?”

He rolled his shoulders as if uncomfortable.

“They began arguing.”

“About?”

“I don’t know. I was still in my room.”

“But you know they were arguing?”

“Yeah, Jason raised his voice at Chrissy.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I grabbed my cigarettes and came back to the living room.”

“Did you step in?” Powell angled his head. “Try to intervene?”

“No, it was too late—”

“Too late?”

“Look, he was yelling at her. She said something. Might’ve been his name, I don’t know. Then it got quiet, and then I heard a real loud thump. When I came out, Chrissy was on the floor.”

Instead of floating midair.

“Alive?”

“I don’t know, but she wasn’t moving.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I wanted to go to her, but Jason was…” He shook his head, remembering how intense Carver could get. “Jason was out of his mind.”

“What do you mean, out of his mind?”

“He was, like, in a rage. Scared the shit outta me.”

“How so?”

“He screamed and pounded on his chest.” He mimicked what he saw in his mind, knocking his fist against his breastbone. “His eyes were wild, like something else was behind them.”

“Something else?”

He blew out a breath. This was make-or-break in the story.

“I’m not religious or anything, but he looked… He looked fucking possessed.” He rubbed his forehead. “I know how this sounds, okay? I know this sounds crazy.”

It was quiet for a moment before Powell asked, “Did Jason Carver have the same reaction the night of March 25th at Lover’s Lake?”

“I don’t know. He and—uh…” He snapped his fingers as though trying to recall. “A teammate?”

“Patrick McKinney.”

“McKinney, yeah. They were in the water, coming after me.”

“Where were you?”

“In a fishing boat, trying to get away from them, but I lost my balance and fell in the water.”

“Did you see what happened to Patrick?”

“No, I was swimming away from them.”

Powell nodded in acceptance.

“Okay, back to March 21st: Jason and Chrissy. Jason was screaming, and Chrissy was on the floor.”

“Yeah, I wanted to go to her.” He looked at the table, muttering, “I wanted to save her. Get her away from him.”

He’d tried to do it. He’d shaken her shoulders and yelled for her to wake up, snap out of it, anything, but Vecna’s hold was too powerful. Whatever she’d needed to break the curse, he hadn’t had it.

“What did Jason do?” asked Powell.

“He came after me. He chased me out of the living room.”

“Where did you go?”

“I ran out of the trailer.”

“Did you go to a neighbor?”

“No, I got in my van and left the trailer park.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

He threw a glance at Hopper. He suspected Hopper would’ve taken him seriously, but that hadn’t been a possibility. Everyone thought Hopper was dead. Including himself.

“Like any of you would’ve believed me — the son of a convicted car thief, trailer trash, a super senior, a freak — over Hawkins’ golden boy, the captain of the basketball team.”

Powell and the deputy looked equal parts uncomfortable and insulted.

Good.

“So, yeah,” he said. “I ran and hid, and Jason kept chasing me.”

While you morons stood around with your heads up your asses.

“Why do you think he did that?” Powell asked.

“Probably because I saw him hurt Chrissy. I was the only witness. Get rid of me, one way or another, and no one would ever know what he’d done.”

Powell shared a look with the deputy, whose face was unreadable. Powell saw something there, though, and turned to him.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Munson. We’d appreciate it if you stayed in town until we conclude our investigation.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

He didn’t know where he’d go or how he’d get there. He’d hidden his van in the woods off Coal Mill Road. He needed to retrieve it, but not until it was safe to leave this house. Also, he didn’t know where Wayne was, or if he’d survived. The thought made his insides shrivel and tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

Hopper clapped him on the back, knocking him into the present. The cassette recorder was gone.

“Glad you’re still with us, kid.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Powell arranged his crutches to stand. The deputy assisted, while Steve straightened to show them to the front door. Powell shuffled around the table, his right leg supported at an angle.

Eddie felt your concerned focus directed at him, but he couldn’t indulge himself. Instead, he watched Steve lead the police to the door. Something compelled him out of his chair and moving towards them.

“Hey, Hop,” he said.

Hopper faced him, heavy brow lifted in interest.

“Wayne— Have you seen— I mean, do you know if my uncle’s alive?”

Hopper contemplated the question for a second.

“No, but I think I know who might.” He jutted his chin in a reassuring way. “I’ll give ‘em a call.”

“Thanks.”

Hopper nodded before jogging to catch up with Powell and the deputy outside. He said something to Steve in passing that made Steve grin.

Once Steve shut the door, Eddie dragged his ass to the table and flopped into his chair.

“Jesus, fuck…”

You asked, “Want a beer?”

He rubbed at his eyes, saying, “That’s a good start.”

“Holy shit,” Robin said from her seat at the kitchen island.

You kept smearing melting butter on your toast. Steve grunted in front of the gurgling coffee maker. Eddie, who sat across from her, remained quiet.

You’d learned Robin said ‘holy shit’ about a lot of things.

“Guys,” she said with a flap of the morning newspaper. “Guys, look at this.”

Steve abandoned his vigil to see what Robin was holy-shit-ing about. You took a bite of toast and turned. His eyes widened when he read what Robin had pointed out.

“Holy shit.”

Eddie, chin in hand, hummed as he stared at the window over the sink. However, your curiosity had been piqued. You stopped beside Eddie, anticipating Steve sliding the newspaper in front of you. When he did, you swallowed and stared at the headline:

DEVELOPMENT IN LOCAL TEEN MURDERS

You scanned the article. It mentioned the nationwide Satanic panic and how citizens had been led to believe a local cult was sacrificing children to the Devil. The writer praised cooler heads, namely Chief Powell and his deputies, who continued to investigate despite the earthquake and subsequent volcanic fissure eruption.

Ah, you thought, that was how they were covering up the destruction near the closed nexus.

Chief Powell was quoted:

“There is irrefutable evidence Edward Munson is the victim of false accusations. This office has cooperated with federal investigators and spoken with numerous local, credible witnesses to determine such a conclusion.”

Despite police not identifying a person of interest, the writer insinuated the actual murderer might be amongst those who had advocated for hunting down Eddie. They speculated the public accusations against Eddie had been a diversion. While the police investigation remained ongoing, an insider let slip police were closing in on a suspect.

The writer went on to report neither local nor federal investigations uncovered any cult, Satanic or otherwise, in the area. Of course, citizens were welcome to report any cult activity to the sheriff’s office. The article ended with the newspaper promising to keep readers informed.

Holy shit.

“Eddie,” you said, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Read this.”

He blinked a few times before pulling his attention away from the window. With a concerned look, he glanced around the island.

“What?”

You pushed the newspaper in front of him and tapped a finger on the headline. He perused the accompanying article, eyes widening as he read.

To Steve, you said, “Better call Nancy.”

He nodded and dialed Nancy’s number on the kitchen phone. After a playful exchange with Mrs. Wheeler, during which Robin rolled her eyes, Steve’s manner turned serious. From listening to half of the conversation, you deduced Nancy had seen the article. He mentioned Dr. Owens, along with Jason Carver. Nancy said more about Jason, but you couldn’t make out her words.

Steve nodded as she spoke, though. When he hung up, you gave him an expectant look.

“The Feds found Jason Carver’s body. Or what’s left of it. His gun’s missing, but there were bullet casings nearby. Nance told Owens about Carver at The WarZone buying a gun, so that’s a lead for them.”

“It corroborates my story about him, too,” you said.

“And the Sinclairs’,” Robin said, leaning an elbow on the island.

After she’d returned to Steve’s last night, she told you, Eddie, and Steve about the police collecting statements from Lucas and Erica. Their statements had led to yours, then Eddie’s. Maybe others’. Who knows how many people Jason had terrorized after Chrissy’s murder.

You nodded as you pondered how many doors he’d knocked on before coming to yours. It was fortunate he’d found you before Mom. If he’d confronted her instead of you, she’d know all about you and Eddie. It’s funny how you’d been debating on introducing him that day. Eddie still had no idea.

Eddie slid from his stool, mumbling something about a shower. You watched him leave the kitchen. While you’d give him privacy, you first needed to tell him. It was an urge, like a hand pushing at the middle of your back.

He was halfway up the stairs when you reached him.

“Eddie, hang on.”

He stopped without turning to face you, hand on the railing.

“What?”

“The Saturday after Chrissy was killed…”

“Yeah?”

“Jason came looking for you.” When he said nothing, you continued, “I was out front planting—”

“Why’re you telling me this?”

“It’s called backstory.”

He turned his head enough for you to see his jaw around his hair, yet he remained quiet.

“He called me your girlfriend.”

“And I bet a whole bunch of other things.”

You sighed, though you remembered Jason’s accusations.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters was my plan for that day.”

“Plan?”

“I wanted to introduce you as my boyfriend to my mom when you picked me up. I was going to run it by you first, of course, but I wanted to.”

Voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, “Well, the pressure’s off now, isn’t it? They’re out of town for the foreseeable future, right?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Your mouth fell open as he stomped from view.

What an asshole thing to say. You’d been trying your best this entire goddamn time.

“I hope your shower sucks,” you snapped, climbing the rest of the stairs.

His bedroom door closed with a definitive click.

You went to your room and shut the door. If he wanted to be a little brat about it, let him. All you’d wanted to do was tell him the truth. You understood he’d had the worst week and a half in the history of the world. You’d cut him some slack, but you were no doormat.

Maybe it was too little too late, though, and maybe he didn’t need to know. You sat on the bed and wiped at your stinging eyes. Why did you have to bring this up now? Of all times? It was just… It was just that you wanted him to know you’d… Been serious about him? Remained serious about him? That you’d never been embarrassed to be with him?

But shit, he’d been the one who wanted to pause the relationship. If he hadn’t, you would’ve introduced him much sooner. Sure, your father wouldn’t have been supportive, but no one you’d ever associated with ever met with his approval. He hadn’t liked your friends in New York. You weren’t sure you liked your friends in New York anymore, either.

Mom would’ve been more open-minded, though.

Dammit, you needed to call them.

It would still be foolish to call from Steve’s house. You could call from the hospital’s payphone again. You thought you remembered one in front of Bradley’s. With all the extra people Steve had been hosting and feeding, you assumed he needed groceries. A visit to Bradley’s would take care of both issues.

You changed into street clothes and slung your purse over your shoulder before heading downstairs. Steve and Robin sat at the kitchen island, chatting between spoonfuls of cereal. It reminded you of hearing their voices in the middle of the night. It made you miss Eddie even though he was only upstairs.

Greeting them with a soft “hey,” you volunteered to do a grocery run. Steve fumbled his spoon when you asked for a shopping list. Milk sloshed onto the counter. He wiped at the spill with the hem of his t-shirt.

Robin watched him with exasperation before fetching a paper towel.

“That shirt’s going to smell so bad tomorrow.”

He snatched the paper towel from her hand, saying, “You’re going to smell so bad tomorrow.”

“Real mature, dingus.”

He aimed a goofy sneer at her.

After cleaning the spill, he finished the shopping list and retrieved some cash. Robin offered money, but you and Steve refused to accept it. With their hours at Family Video reduced, and Robin’s parents making her pay for her band equipment, it didn’t feel right. You and Steve weren’t hurting for money, in any case.

“Remember, we’ll be gone by the time you get back,” he said, handing you the list and money.

You nodded and pocketed both. They were volunteering at the school, which was kind of them. It was also convenient for you since you’d probably argue with Eddie when you returned. He’d acted like a brat and deserved a spanking like one.

“Maybe I’ll join you two tomorrow?”

“That would be awesome,” said Robin, perking up and scooping soggy Cheerios from her bowl. “You can make meals with me and Vickie.”

“Cool.” You gave her a teasing look. “I want to meet Vickie and hear all about you two in Band.”

Robin blushed, hands fluttering. An arc of milk and cereal splashed across the counter.

Steve laughed, “God, Robin!”

“Shit, sorry!”

With a chuckle, you wished them a good day and left the kitchen. You didn’t want to be the next thing they flung milk on. As you crossed the living room, you noted Eddie’s closed door. That was fine by you. He should stay in there and chill the hell out.

On the drive to Bradley’s, you mulled over what to tell your parents. You couldn’t say you wanted to stay because of your boyfriend, who they didn’t know existed, or that said boyfriend was the accused cult leader everyone in town had been hunting. You couldn’t say you hated Hawkins, but the thought of leaving right now made you want to cry. And you certainly couldn’t say you were bunking with the flirty clerk from Family Video.

Bradley’s half-full parking lot was a strange sight for a Tuesday. With the ads in the windows exclaiming Two For Tuesday, you expected a swarm of shoppers. Then again, half of Hawkins had fled less than a week ago.

You bought two cans of generic soda from the machine out front with a couple of dollars. That supplied plenty of coins to make a long-distance call. You carried the sodas to the car. They’d be nice with lunch. Which was a meal. And Robin had invited you to volunteer making meals with her and Vickie.

Volunteering was a decent excuse to stay.

You deposited the sodas in the car’s drink holders and rushed to the payphone. After paying and dialing the Cincinnati number, the line rang twice before Mom answered. She sounded relieved to hear from you and asked after your car. It took you a second to recall the lie you’d left on their answering machine. You replied the radiator leak hadn’t been bad and had been repaired.

“Then when should we expect you?”

You sighed.

“I don’t want to come down to Cincinnati.”

Incredulous, she asked, “You want to stay in Hawkins?”

Your father’s voice rumbled in the background.

“Yes, actually,” you said. “I’m volunteering at the school. With friends.”

“The same friends you’re staying with?”

You nodded with a “yes.”

In reply, you got the swish of Mom putting her palm over the receiver. Your father’s voice sharpened, though you couldn’t make out his words. Mom responded, yet it didn’t sound like that pacified him.

You closed your eyes, waiting for him to grab the phone from her. Shaking your head, you realized preparing to be berated was something a previous version of yourself would’ve done.

“Mom.” When she didn’t answer, you said, “Mom.”

“Y-yes, honey? What is it?”

“I gotta go — I’m in the middle of a grocery run — but don’t worry about me. Everything’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll call you again, alright?”

“Honey… Where—? Your father—”

“No. I don’t care what he wants to yell about. I’m fine here. I’m safe, I promise. Just…” You took a stuttering breath. “I love you.”

She sighed.

“We love you, too.”

Your hand trembled as you placed the phone handset on the hook. A nickel dropped into the return slot. You never make anyone’s life easier, Vecna had said, using Eddie’s voice. You left it. The next person might need it. Besides, it was only a nickel. You turned to rest your back on the sun-warmed brick.

You’d done the right thing by staying. You were doing the right thing. It was the difficult thing, but you’d faced tougher. You weren’t some spoiled little rich girl who ran away from the aftermath. Even if it hurt — and it probably would. Even if Eddie left you — and it appeared as though he might.

You couldn’t worry about that right now. There were practical things to do. You felt like Scarlett O’Hara as you told yourself you’d think about the aftermath later.

Inside Bradley’s, shoppers and clerks spoke in hushed tones. Beeps from the checkouts didn’t carry beyond the cart corral. The quiet helped you concentrate on Steve’s shopping list. Item by item, you filled your cart, having to substitute skim milk for 2%, whole-wheat bread for white, and a carton of eighteen eggs instead of a dozen.

Steve had written ‘12 eggs,’ like you could buy them individually.

You huffed a laugh when turning into the ransacked paper aisle. The shelves for the industrial-sized packs of toilet paper were empty. That left you stepping onto the lowest shelf and struggling for the last two packs of the expensive floral-printed stuff at the back.

At the checkout, the clerk issued a rehearsed apology for the shortages. With the volcanic fissures now closed and road crews fixing the damage, they assured you shipments would start coming again soon. They helped bag your order since there weren’t enough baggers. They apologized for that, too.

You waved away their apologies and thanked them for their assistance. Because you weren’t an entitled person who didn’t appreciate a favor when it was offered.

Once the car’s trunk was loaded, you headed back to Steve’s. You didn’t know what you were going to say to Eddie about this morning, or how to broach the subject. He’d been dealing with so much stress. You understood that. You didn’t want to be another stressor. He needed to talk to you — or someone. He couldn’t just bottle up his emotions and get snippy when someone wasn’t mindful of his unspoken wishes.

As you made the left onto Cornwallis, an older truck paused at the stop sign on your right and followed you. You hoped they wouldn’t get aggressive when you slowed to get your bearings. You still weren’t used to the neighborhood. Something about it kept screwing with your sense of direction. Maybe it was how all the houses were set back from the road and obscured with manicured shrubs.

You recognized evergreen bushes and the u-shaped driveway of Steve’s house. You put on your turn signal. The truck did the same. You frowned at the rearview mirror, but pulled into the driveway. If the driver was some irrational, as your father had put it, country bumpkin, you’d make them regret tailing you.

You parked beside the enclosed carport and stepped out of the car, leaving your keys in the ignition and purse on the passenger seat. The truck stopped a few yards away. Sunlight glinted off its windshield. The engine went silent.

You stayed inside the vee of your open car door and waited for the driver to reveal themself.

The truck’s door creaked open, window reflecting the greenery of the front yard. Dusty work-boots hit the driveway. Something about them struck you as familiar. You studied the truck as you racked your mind for why.

The truck door clapped shut.

You gasped, eyes going wide. It was Eddie’s uncle, Wayne. He had a black eye and a shallow scratch at the top of his forehead, but otherwise appeared unharmed. You pushed the car door closed and hurried to him.

“Mr. Munson, oh my God! I didn’t— I’m so glad you’re okay!”

With a wry note in his voice, he said, “It’s good to see you, too.”

You offered your hands, which he grasped in his rougher ones. Tears prickled at your eyes. You hadn’t realized how on edge you’d been about Wayne’s absence until he was there.

You squeezed his hands, saying, “Eddie’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

He squeezed back as his expression softened, yet hardly shifted.

“Is he here?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded. “He’s okay. He’s been asking about you.”

Wayne hummed, sounding pleased. “After that girl was found… Well, I’m sure you know by now. And with the trailer park done split in two, I’ve been staying at the Motel 6.”

“Of course, that makes sense.”

“This Henderson boy said Eddie was in the hospital when I dropped by the school on Saturday, but then that eruption happened.” He gave you a knowing look. “Course, the hospital didn’t have a record of Eddie being there.” He harrumphed and gently released your hands. “Then this morning, Agent Stinson, the one that put me up at the Motel 6, paid me a visit and told me about my nephew recuperating here.”

You glanced at Eddie’s bedroom window.

“Please, come in,” you said, pivoting to show him inside. “I’ll take you to him.”

“I first have a favor to ask.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Will you help this old man get a few things from the truck?”

You grinned.

“Absolutely.”

He led you to the back of the truck. You gasped a second time in so many minutes. Three guitar cases lay in the truck bed. You put a hand on your tight chest.

“I didn’t want to leave ‘em with no one at home,” said Wayne.

He’d never given up on Eddie. Like you, he’d known Eddie was innocent. His days must’ve been horrible, full of waiting and dread. You couldn’t imagine the stares and comments he must’ve gotten at work.

“—fit the amps, but I know these mean more.”

You nodded, feeling like a bobblehead doll as you blinked back tears.

“Whoa, hey now, don’t cry.”

You tried to reply you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come.

Wayne put a strong arm around your shoulders, grounding you. His faded denim jacket smelled of tobacco.

The guitars were just objects and could be replaced, of course, but Wayne was right: they meant something. You’d bet Eddie had resigned himself to replacing them. Coming to terms with that must’ve hurt.

You shook your head at the good fortune, then gave Wayne a smile. Now, Eddie wouldn’t have to go through that.

It took you a few tries, but you finally said, “He’s going to lose it when he sees you and these.”

“Eh, I reckon more for the guitars than me.”

You laughed as Wayne lowered the tailgate. He handed you the acoustic case and bossed around the two electrics. You closed the tailgate for him and led the way into the house. Television noise came from the open basement door.

In the living room, you and Wayne had a hushed conversation about leaving the guitars there. He wanted to surprise Eddie. You loved the idea and propped the acoustic against a sofa arm. Wayne added the electrics next to it before following you to the top of the stairs.

“Eddie?” you called.

“Yeah?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What? Who?”

You stepped to the side, giving Wayne access to the stairs. Eddie choked out something when Wayne was halfway down. You leaned on the doorframe, biting your grinning lip, waiting for their first exchange. However, it was quiet. You snuck a glance. Eddie’s arms were around Wayne, and Wayne’s around him. His fingers dug into Wayne’s jacket.

You closed the door to allow them privacy.

Taking a step towards the guitars, you remembered the groceries thawing in your car. That was unlocked. With the key in the ignition. And your purse in the passenger seat.

You dashed to the car and began unloading it. The kitchen counters filled with bags. Each trip obscured the counters until brown paper surrounded you.

By the time you finished stocking the refrigerator and pantry, Eddie and Wayne had emerged from the basement. Eddie’s excited voice came from the living room, making you smile. You padded to the doorway to watch the second reunion. Eddie knelt in front of the red guitar’s open case.

Wayne said to him the same thing he’d told you: he couldn’t abandon the guitars.

Wordlessly, Eddie nodded and stood. He hugged Wayne again, murmuring something into his shoulder. Wayne put a hand on the back of Eddie’s head and ruffled his hair as he replied. Eddie laughed with a sniffle.

You ducked your head and crossed your arms. If you saw him cry, you’d cry. Then Wayne would be stuck in a house of the emotionally compromised.

When Eddie and Wayne separated, you cleared your throat to make your presence known. Eddie beamed at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Wayne was more restrained, but he appeared just as happy.

“Mr. Munson, would you like to stay for lunch?” you asked.

“I’d like that, but I can’t. The plant’s understaffed, and I’m workin’ a double.”

Eddie wilted, but you didn’t want him to give up hope. He needed something to look forward to.

You asked, “Maybe on a day off?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at Eddie. “My Friday’s free.”

“Come for lunch,” said Eddie.

“Yeah, stay as long as you want. Stay for dinner.” Raising your eyebrows at Eddie, you said, “We can invite the rest of the party. Make it a potluck.”

“I think we better run that by Steve first.”

“Like he’ll refuse.”

Eddie conceded the point with an agreeable shrug.

To Wayne, he said, “Steve’s got cable downstairs. There’s at least one sports channel.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a good enough reason to return.”

Eddie barked a laugh and knocked his elbow against Wayne’s. He then turned to Wayne and perched his chin on the back of his hands, blinking owlishly.

“You mean my spectacular personality isn’t reason enough?”

Wayne said drily, “Your personality is a spectacle, alright.”

Eddie laughed again. Wayne’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curved into a private grin.

After a moment, Wayne said, “Well, I best be off.”

“Thank you for coming by,” you said.

Eddie nodded.

“Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime.”

You heard the love in that one word. Eddie must’ve heard it as well, because his face softened. It was easy to forget his sharp smile and smart-ass remarks and big personality masked a tender heart.

As you thought it, you asked, “Do you have the phone number here?”

“No, ma’am.”

You hurried into the kitchen, found the pad of paper Steve used for the shopping list, and wrote the number. When you came out with a pad and pen, Wayne and Eddie stood in the foyer. You tore off the top sheet and asked for the motel’s number.

“Just in case plans change,” you said.

After trading numbers, you saw Wayne off. Eddie followed him down the front stairs while you remained in the doorway. Once in the truck, Wayne held up a hand in goodbye before reversing down the driveway.

As soon as Wayne’s truck was out of sight, Eddie brushed past you without meeting your eyes. You closed the door and trailed after him into the living room.

“You want to talk about this morning?”

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked, kneeling in front of the guitars and closing the red’s case.

“Well, geez, I don’t know.” You put your hands on your hips. “Maybe how you brushed me off?”

He laid the acoustic case flat and paused with his hands on top.

“I didn’t ‘brush you off.’ I didn’t want to talk about fucking Jason Carver, okay?”

“That wasn’t the point.”

“No, that is the point. He wouldn’t have targeted you if I’d left you alone from the start.”

You narrowed your eyes at his back. That was a crappy excuse. And still not the point.

“Why did you say it was good my parents had left town so I wouldn’t have to introduce you?”

“I don’t know, alright? Everything got screwed up.” His hands balled into fists. “I know part of it’s my fault.” He shook his head as his shoulders hunched. “I can’t undo it, so… It’s whatever.”

You huffed a breath through your nose.

“It’s whatever?” Letting your hands drop to your sides, you said, “Me being serious about you, about wanting my parents to know you, is not whatever.”

He muttered, “They wouldn’t have liked me, anyway.”

“Maybe not, but I’d make them respect my choice.” You tried to breathe with a too-tight chest. “Because I choose you. It sucks that doesn’t seem to mean a lot to you.”

You didn’t wait for a reply and headed into the kitchen. There were empty grocery bags to deal with. You folded and stacked them on the island while swallowing around the lump in your throat.

If Steve’s parents were anything like your own, there was a stash of empty grocery bags somewhere around here. You found a bag of bags in the pantry — something you’d missed a few times. Of course, you missed it. You’d missed plenty of things these past few days, evidently, but you wouldn’t cry over them. Not now. Not in Steve’s pantry. You added the new bags to the collection, then closed the pantry door.

You turned and startled at Eddie dawdling in the kitchen doorway.

“I choose you too, you know,” he said, fingers playing with nonexistent rings. “And it does mean a lot to me — that you’re serious about me. I’m serious about you, too.”

You nodded, voice constrained by the sudden stranglehold of too many emotions.

“I’m going to go upstairs now.”

You nodded again, though you didn’t like it.

He shifted from foot to foot before leaving the doorway. His faint footsteps disappeared from the first floor. All the while, you mentally screamed for him to come back. You didn’t need him to say more. He just needed to stay. Maybe to make lunch with you, though the idea of eating turned your stomach. However, you wanted to do something dumb, something mundane, with him, like make lunch and drink the cheap sodas you’d bought.

Instead, you trudged into the sunroom and flumped into one of the armless chairs.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

37 notes · View notes

starstruckphantommoon · 1 month

Text

Polar Opposites - Book 1: Water - Chapter 14: The Storm

You wake up suddenly to the feeling Momo scampering across your stomach before he wakes up your siblings also. “Huh?” Sokka asks tiredly with his machete and boomerang at the ready. “Uh… what’s going on? Did we get captured again?” “It's nothing, I just had a bad dream.” Aang replies. “Go back to sleep.” he continues as he lays back down on the ground. “Don't have to tell me twice.” Sokka replies as he rolls over to go back to sleep, obviously not concerned about Aang’s well-being like Katara is. “Are you all right, Aang?” she asks him, while you just look at the young airbender in genuine concern, since he’s been having nightmares a lot lately. “I’m okay.” he replies softly. “You seem to be having a lot of nightmares lately, you wanna tell us about it?” Katara asks. “I think I just need some rest.” Aang replies, avoiding her question. “You guys want to hear about my dream?” Sokka asks as he sits up excitedly, which makes you and Katara give him annoyed looks. “That’s ok, I didn’t wanna talk about it anyway.” Sokka replies as he lays back down. You and Katara look at each other for a moment before laying back down too, wanting to get some more sleep.

The next morning you, your siblings, and Aang pack up our stuff to get some flying done. “Look at those clear skies buddy!” Aang says to Appa as he looks up at the sky. “Should be some smooth flying.” Katara who stands next to me, shaking the bag that we had used to store our food in, only a few crumbs coming out of it which Momo eats. “Well, we better smoothly fly ourselves to a market, cause we're out of food.” she says as she starts walking up Appa’s tail. “Guys, wait,” Sokka says, alarmed as you climb up Appa’s tail also. “this was in my dream, we shouldn’t go to the market.” “What happened in your dream?” Katara asks him. “Food eats people!” Sokka exclaims, his eyes bugged out in fright. You and Katara look at him with very unimpressed looks on your faces. “Also, Momo could talk.” he says as he turns to the lemur that is sitting on the back of Appa’s saddle to his right. “You said some very unkind things.”

Once you all packed up all of your stuff the four of you had decided to look for a village to get some more food before you all get some more flying done today. “Ah, it’s good! I’m telling you!” the shopkeeper woman shouts at Katara as she holds one of the melons from the woman’s produce cart. Katara shakes the melon, looking uncertain as the melon makes a loud swishing sound. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that swishing…” Katara says to the woman, making her make an angry and frustrated face. The shopkeeper comes around the stand to face Katara. “Swishing means it's ripe!” she exclaims. “It's the ripe juices swishing around, eh?” “I think it's true, Katara, swishing means it's ripe.” Aang says, agreeing with the woman. You and Katara look at each other in uncertainty before she puts the melon back on the cart. “I just realized we're out of money anyway.” she says innocently. “Awww!” The shopkeeper exclaims as she grabs the basket of fruit from Sokka. The shopkeeper then kicks Sokka as he walks by her.

We now stand on the dock, Sokka currently rubbing the spot where he was kicked. “Out of food and out of money, now what are we supposed to do?” Sokka asks, depressed. “You could get a job, smart guy.” you say to him, sarcastically, crossing you arms over my chest. “We shouldn't go out there!” An old woman says from behind the four of you. “Please, the fish can wait. There's going to be a terrible storm.” “Ahh, you're crazy!” The old man that she was talking to says. “It's a nice day. No clouds, no wind, no nothing, so quit you're naggin' woman.” “Maybe we should find some shelter?” Aang asks. “Are you kidding? Shelter from what?” Sokka asks him. “My joints say there's going to be a storm! A bad one.” The old woman says. “Well, it's your joints against my brain.” The old man replies. “Then I hope your brain can find someone else to haul that fish, cause I ain't comin'!” The old woman exclaims. “Then I'll find a new fish hauler and pay him double what you get!” The old man exclaims. “How do you like that?”

“I’ll go!” Sokka says running up to them. “You’re hired!” The old man exclaims pointing at my twin brother. “What?” Sokka asks you, Aang and Katara. “You said ‘get a job’ and he’s paying double.” “Double? Who told ya that nonsense?” The old man asks Sokka, looking at him as if he were an alien or something.

A little while later, Sokka is loading the fishing boat that he and the old man will be taking out while you and Aang look at the sky worriedly as black storm clouds come closer and closer. “Sokka, maybe this isn't such a good idea. Look at the sky.” Aang says to your brother. “I said I was gonna do this job. I can't back out just because of some bad weather.” Sokka says as he goes below deck with supplies in his arms. “The boy with the tattoos has some sense. You should listen to him!” The old woman exclaims before she walks off. “Boy with tattoos? Airbender tattoos…” The old man says as he puts down some boxes before he turns to look at Aang. “Well I’ll be a hog monkey's uncle! You're the Avatar, ain't ya?” he asks Aang.

“That’s right.” Katara smiles, hands on her hips. “Well don't be so smiley about it.” The old man scolds, making your smiles disappear. “The Avatar disappeared for a hundred years. You turned your back on the world!” he yells as he jabs Aang’s chest with his forefinger. “Don’t yell at him!” Katara says angrily, coming to Aang’s side. “Aang would never turn his back on anyone!” “Oh? He wouldn't, uh?” The man asks her. “Then I guess I must have imagined the last hundred years of war and suffering.” h“Aang is the bravest person I know!” Katara exclaims as she steps in front of Aang so that she’s between him and the old man. “He has done nothing but help people and save lives since I met him.” she states to which you nod in agreement too.

You may not have been traveling with Aang and your siblings for very long, but you know that Aang would never turn his back on the people of the world, at least not on purpose. It wasn’t his fault that he got frozen into the iceberg that your siblings found him in. Right? “It's not his fault he disappeared, right Aang?” Katara asks as she turns around to face Aang. Your eyes widen as you see Aang backing away from us, a guilty look on his face. “Aang?” you ask, my voice full of concern for my friend. “What's wrong?” you and Katara ask him at the same time.

Without hesitation, Aang opens his glider and flees, taking off towards the mountains. “That's right! Keep flyin!” The old man exclaims from beside Katara. “You're a horrible old man!” Katara exclaims as she whips her head toward him. “Ehh.” The old man grunts in reply. “Come on Katara!” you say to her as you run over to Appa, jumping up onto his head and taking the reins. Katara jumps up onto Appa a moment later and once she’s settled into the saddle behind you, you flick the reins. “Appa, yip yip!” you tell him which makes him take off, making a wave go up and over the dock, drenching the old man.

Hmph. Serves him right.

You and Katara have been flying for a while now and the storm has drenched us severely as you and Katara look for Aang on Appa. ‘Where are you Aang?’ you ask yourself as you search for any sign of him. “(Y/N), look! Over there!” Katara shouts over the rain, pointing at the cliffside. Your eyes land on a cave in the rock face with an exposed parapet and a stone staircase leading up to it from the shoreline below.

You turn Appa around and we land on the parapet. Without hesitation, the two of you slide off of Appa, making our way into the cave. As soon as you and Katara enter the cave, we see Aang sitting there, his back facing you, and from his posture, you can tell that he’s very downcast about something… Probably about what that fisherman had said to him earlier... “I’m sorry for running away...” He says to you two quietly. “It’s ok. That fisherman was way out of line.” Katara replies reassuringly. “Actually, he wasn't.” Aang replies. “What do you mean?” you ask him, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

There is no way that the fisherman was right about Aang turning his back on the world before the war started…

Aang would never do that… Not intentionally anyway.

“I don't wanna talk about it.” Aang answers, his voice cracking as the two of you walk over to him. “It has to do with your dream, doesn’t it?” Katara asks him, kneeling in front of him, putting a hand on each of his shoulders. “Talk to us.” she says softly. “Well, it's kind of a long story.” Aang says as he glances at Katara and then you. Suddenly, Momo runs in, chittering with Appa right behind him. Appa walks up to Aang, nudging him with his nose, making Aang smile at him as he turns to pet him, silently thanking him for the comfort. “I'm gonna try to get a little fire going.” Katara says she gets up and walks away.

Ten minutes later you, Katara and Aang are sitting around a small fire. You sit leaning up against Appa while Aang and Katara sit across from each other, Momo in Aang’s lap by the fire that Katara had started. “I'll never forget the day the monks told me I was the Avatar.” Aang says softly as he begins telling you and Katara the story of how he disappeared. “I was playing with some other kids just outside the south wall. I was trying to teach them how to do the air scooter…”

Aang lowers his head at the memory, and all you can do is give him a concerned and sympathetic look as he continues telling the story. “So you were upset that you were the Avatar?” Katara asks. “Why wouldn’t you be excited about it?” “Well, I didn't know how to feel about it.” Aang answers. “All I knew is that after I found out, everything began changing…” he continues sadly, as he tells us how the other kids started to treat him differently.

“Then, just when I was starting to feel better, something worse happened.” he says before he tells us how the monks were going to separate Aang from Monk Gyatso.

“That’s awful, Aang. I don’t know what to say.” Katara says softly as she tries to put her hand on his shoulder, but he gets up to his feet angrily. “How could they do that to me! They wanted to take away everything I knew and everyone I loved!” Aang exclaims as his avatar spirit begins to activate, the arrow tattoos on his body begin to glow and the energy shell that my siblings had seen at the southern air temple when Aang had found Gyatso’s skeleton begins to form around him. He shuts it down however as Katara cries out as cinders from the fire swirl around her. “Whoa! Hot cinders!” “I’m sorry I got so mad.” Aang apologizes as the glow fades. “You have a right to be angry after the monks sent you away like that.” you say to him as he walks back over to the fire to sit across from Katara again. “Well, that's not exactly what happened…” he says softly, looking downcast and guilty. “I was afraid and confused. I didn't know what to do.” he continues and he explains how he ran away.

“I never saw Gyatso again.” Aang says sadly. “Next thing I knew, I was waking up in your arms after you found me in the iceberg.” he continues, as he gets to where my siblings had discovered him in the iceberg. “You ran away.” Katara says softly as Aang looks vacantly across the fire, a slight guilty expression on his face. “And then the Fire Nation attacked our temple.” Aang says looking up at Katara. “My people needed me and I wasn't there to help.” he continues as he looks downcast again. “You don’t know what would’ve-” Katara says but Aang cuts her off. “The world needed me and I wasn't there to help.”

“Aang…” you say softly as you get up from my spot beside Appa. “The fisherman was right!” he exclaims in frustration. “I did turn my back on the world.” he continues as he turns away from you and Katara. “You're being too hard on yourself.” you say to him as you kneel next to him. “Even if you did run away, I think it was meant to be. If you had stayed you would have been killed along with all the other airbenders.” you continue to which Katara nods in agreement too. “You don't know that.” Aang replies softly, looking down at the ground. “But we know that it's meant to be this way.” Katara says. “The world needs you now. You give people hope.” she continues with a small smile. Aang slowly smiles back at her, raising his head to look at her, an expression of hope spreading across his face. Momo hops over to Aang and chitters, making Aang pet his back with a smile.

“Help!” A voice exclaims from the entrance of the cave making you, Katara and Aang look over to the entrance to see someone entering the cave, the storm still raging outside. “Oh, please help!” the person continues. That’s when you realize that it’s the old woman who had told the old fisherman about the storm before Sokka volunteered to go with him in her place. Katara rushes over to her side. “It’s ok, you’re safe.” she says as she leads the woman to the fire. “But, my husband isn't.” the woman replies. “What do you mean? Where's Sokka?” you ask her as you get up to my feet, worried about your twin brother. “They haven't returned.” she says. “They should've been back by now, and this storm is becoming a typhoon. They're caught out at sea.” “I’m going to find them.” Aang says as he stands up. “I’m going with you.” Katara says to him. “Me too.” you answer. “I'm staying here!” the woman exclaims as she sits down next to the fire, her arms crossed over her chest.

A couple of minutes later, we have Appa ready to take off. Aang turns to the old woman as you mount Appa. “We’ll be back soon, I promise.” he says before he and Katara mount Appa also and we fly out of the cave.

You, Aang and Katara have been searching for the boat for about twenty minutes now and so far you haven’t seen any sign of it. “Where are they?” Katara asks over the wind and rain as you all look for the fishing boat. “Come on, Appa!” Aang says as Appa tries to go over a wave. Appa can’t pull over the wave in time, but you bust through its crest with a combination of Appa’s strength and Aang twirling his staff around rapidly to part the water.

Once you get past the wave we see a small boat in the distance, silhouetted by multiple lightning strikes. “The boat! It's there!” Aang shouts pointing at the small boat in the distance. As you fly towards the small fishing boat, you see a familiar ship’s silhouette in the distance. you stare at the ship for a few moments, not surprised at all that Zuko would be going into this storm in his pursuit for Aang. What does surprise you, however, is that he’s not attacking, because, if Zuko is on the main deck of the ship, he can clearly see Appa and he would probably take the chance in attacking, even in this bad storm.

Once you get close enough to the boat, Aang jumps off of Appa and lands onto the boat. Lighting strikes the main mast which breaks off. It’s about to hit Aang, but he splits it in two, using waterbending, the halves falling harmlessly on either side of him. “Hang on to the rope!” you hear Aang yell at Sokka and the old man before he airbends himself back onto Appa, pulling Sokka and the old man with him. Both of them land in the saddle, the old man spitting out some water from his mouth before he smiles sheepishly at Sokka. The smile you have on your face from seeing that Sokka is safe disappears when a shadow appears behind them and you hear the sound of rushing water. “Aang! Look!” you exclaim, pointing at the large wave that had just swept up the fishing boat. Appa tries to escape, but the wave is too fast and you all go under water.

As you and the others float in the water, you keep a tight grasp on the saddle, not wanting to get separated from Appa and drown. Your lungs start to burn from the lack of air before you see a bright flash of white behind your closed eyelids. And next thing you know is there’s a sphere of energy surrounding Appa as he swims through the water, able to breathe.

A few moments later, Appa breaks through the surface of the water, passing Zuko’s ship as he rises higher and higher into the sky. As you all pass the ship, Zuko’s gold eyes meet your blue ones for a couple of seconds and you don’t know why, but your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. You quickly turn back around as Appa goes through the eye of the storm, not wanting either of my siblings to notice that you were staring at Zuko.

You all get back to the cave where you and Katara had found Aang earlier and the old woman looks relieved as she sees her husband, safe and sound. “Oh, you're alive!” she exclaims as she hugs him. “You owe this boy an apology.” she says, her voice turning sour as she points at Aang. “He doesn't have to apologize.” Aang argues. “Mmm, uh, what if instead of an apology I give him a free fish and we call it even?” the old man asks her, which makes you roll my eyes.

Aang just saved his life, even after all he had said about him.

Ungrateful much.

“Actually, I don't eat meat.” Aang says to him. “Fish ain't meat.” the old man says as he turns to him. “Seriously,” Sokka says as he walks over to them. “you’re still gonna pay me, right?” he continues, holding out his hand. In reply to Sokka’s question, the old man drops a fish into his outstretched hand with a wet smacking sound, which makes Sokka make a frightened sound. “Katara, I think you and (Y/N) were right before.” Aang says walking up to me and Katara. “I'm done dwelling on the past.” “Really?” Katara asks him. “I can't make guesses about how things would have turned out if I hadn't run away.” Aang says, looking down at the ground for a moment. “I'm here now and I'm going to make the most of it.” he continues as he turns to you and Katara with a smile. “I don't think you're gonna have those nightmares anymore.” you smile, which makes him smile back. “Uh, if you weren’t here now, well, I guess I wouldn’t be either.” the old man says as he walks up to Aang, putting a hand on his shoulders. “Thank you for saving my life, Avatar.”

“Do you hear that?” Sokka asks, making all of you turn to him. “It’s stopped raining.” We all walk out of the cave, staring out into the distance, watching as the storm clouds move away. That’s when Appa shakes himself off, drenching all of us, making us jump away from him. “Appa!” we all exclaim, annoyed, that he had gotten us even wetter than we already are.

#x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #zuko #zuko x reader #atla #atla x reader #a:tla #a:tla x reader #avatar: the last airbender x reader #avatar: the last airbender

15 notes · View notes

imtryingmybeskar · 1 year

Text

Come Home Chapter Fourteen

Joel Miller x F! Reader.

Word count - 4,002.

More spoilers for Ellie’s sixteenth birthday celebration. I always wondered how Joel got that recording of a liftoff, so I wrote it!

Some soft! Joel incoming, but there are storm clouds on the horizon...

Come Home

Chapter Fourteen - Every Sky Is Blue...

The space exhibition you emerge into is small but comprehensive and very interactive, especially since you can now reach out and touch stuff you weren’t supposed to before - the model of a lunar rover, the facsimile of the moon, the reproductions of the rockets. You accidentally knock a couple of these off their perches and they won’t reattach afterward despite your best efforts, so you leave them in disarray and scurry away hurriedly even though there is no one to berate you for your clumsiness except Joel who just laughs at you.

“You ruinin’ Ellie’s present already?” he teases as you walk to the other side of the room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply airily. “Ohhh look, spacesuits!”

The spacesuits decorate the sides of a rounded room, the star of which is a space capsule, overgrown with ivy and vines that have forced their way through the glass ceiling above and twined their way around the object. You run your hand over the riveted metal and a thought suddenly strikes you.

“Yeesh. Imagine being up there when everything happened. Fuck…you’d see…you’d hear everything. The news reports before they stopped. Updates from mission control. The bombs…And then just…nothing. And you’d know that no one was coming. Ever. Christ. Those poor bastards.”

“Now, I was havin’ a real nice day before you said that,” Joel replies, grumpily.

“Sorry,” you apologise, turning to grimace at him. “I’ll shut up. You’re right. Ellie’s going to love this.”

Joel smiles toothily before he reaches to grasp the handle of the capsule on the floor.

“Gimmie a hand with this will ya?”

Between you, you manage to pull the heavy metal door open and the dry, stale, twenty year old air whooshes out from inside as you do.

“Wowww, this is so cool!” you say as you stick your head inside to look at the controls. It seems like there are a thousand buttons and switches spread over several consoles, all just begging to be pressed and fiddled with, as well as a joystick between the two empty seats that the capsule has to offer. “Joel, come look at this!”

“Yeah, just a sec,” he says. His voice is absent minded and far away and you pop your head back out to look at him. He’s staring at the spacesuits, and then his eyes flick back to the capsule.

“What you thinking?” you ask.

“What if…I could make this like a proper mission?” he says, slowly. “Get the helmet, get in the capsule, pretend to take off…But I’d need…I mean they gotta have a copy here somewhere…” He trails off again and you look at him in puzzlement, letting him work it out silently. He tips his head up, looking at the sky that can be seen through the glass dome of the ceiling above and hums thoughtfully.

“I think we got time,” he mutters to himself, then looks at you, a purposeful gleam in his eye. “How would you feel about explorin' a little more? Lookin’ around some of the stuff behind the scenes here?”

He leads you back downstairs to one of the smaller dinosaur exhibits where a set of double doors leads to a long, dark corridor that has precisely zero light, natural or otherwise and as such looks extremely uninviting to your eyes. You take a breath and follow Joel through, sticking very close to him as the combined light of your torches sweeps over the walls and floors. Still no fungus, still no spores, for which you are grateful, but you can feel the insidious blackness begin in your mind. The projector of your nightmares begins to whir as your brain makes connections between what is and what was and you feel only a little shame as you clutch on to Joel’s arm with a shaking hand. He stops immediately.

“You alright?” comes his deep voice from the darkness.

“Yeah, can just we get out of this corridor please?” Your voice is more terse than you had intended, but he seems to understand.

“We’ll step it up,” he promises. He takes your hand in his and holds it tight. A development which you had not been expecting but weren’t inclined to argue against given that it was actively helping in this situation.

The torchlight picks out plesiosaur bones, underwater fossils and information about them lining the walls, and additional small exhibits that you have no intention to stop and look at are displayed underneath. After what feels like twenty minutes of walking you come to another set of double doors, these ones with an ornately carved wooden sign above them proclaiming that you are about to enter The Hall of Minerals, and when you push open the door you give an audible sigh of relief. Tall windows on one side allow the fading light in, and it’s enough for you to be able to command your stomach to unclench. You give Joel’s hand a companionable squeeze before you let him go.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

This place has been modelled to appear more old fashioned than the other parts of the museum that you’ve seen – polished wood panelled walls cocoon the room, towering decorative ionic pillars of crumbling plaster do almost nothing to support the ceiling, and spindly, Victorian looking display cases lie in dusty clustered rows, their treasures gleaming dully within. You pass through slowly, taking in the beauty of the gems, geodes and meteorites. Toward the centre of the room some large pieces of plaster have fallen from the ceiling and glass and jewels both glitter on the ground together, spilling out from the smashed case above. The shine of them catches your eye and you crouch down to take a better look.

“You think it would be bad if I took some of these?” you ask Joel as he comes to see what’s captured your attention.

“Well…I don’t think anyone’s comin’ back for ‘em,” he points out. “What, you want a diamond?”

“Nah, not my thing. But this-“ You pull up a shining pearlescent blue opal, veins of pink and orange and purple fire running through it. “-this is gorgeous.”

“Probably better to have someone appreciatin' ‘em. And its not like you smashed the case.”

“Thank you for supporting my life of thievery, Joel.”

“Long as you ain’t stealin’ my rations, I do not care.”

“So…what are we looking for, anyway?” you ask as you continue to pick through the rocks on the floor, pocketing small bits of lapis lazuli, fire agate and bismuth and feeling distinctly corvid-like at your desire to possess the useless, shiny things.

“A recordin'. Of a rocket launch. I’m gonna give it to her to listen to on her Walkman while we’re in the capsule. I can’t train her to be an astronaut. But I can at least try to help her live it.”

You look up at him, both impressed by the originality of the idea and touched by the sentiment of it. “That’s such a wonderful idea! She’s going to have the best birthday."

“Well, I don’t think she’s had too many she cares to remember. I want this one to be good.”

“She’ll be happy whatever you do,” you smile, resuming your sifting of the stones and glass. “As long as she’s with you. Dinosaurs and going in to space definitely can’t hurt though.”

Once you’ve collected up all of your ill-gotten gains, Joel heads toward the back corner, where you can see a door of the same polished wood, the sign proclaiming that the area is for Staff Only ruining the original intention of having it blend in with the rest of the wall.

Another long corridor lies beyond, this one thankfully with some more windows to light your way. The sky outside is now distinctly angry looking – dark grey clouds totally blotting out the sun, tree branches whipping violently in the wind and tiny patters of rain beginning to drum against the window panes and roof.

“We need to get back to the horses soon,” you mutter to Joel.

He nods his agreement and you each take a side of the corridor, looking at the descriptive plaques on each to determine what lies inside, and listening carefully to check if there are any lurking visitors aside from yourselves. Nothing grabs your attention except the administration office, where you both search through the drawers and come away with pens, notebooks, scissors, twine, a box cutter, and some duct tape. On your last sweep of the room you find a drawer locked at the bottom of one of the desks and manage to pry the cheap wooden front off with brute strength. A cup with a family portrait printed on it, papers and files that were no doubt once important and confidential, some sort of snack that now coated the inside of a Ziploc bag with black goo…and a voice recorder. You take the bag to wash out and reuse and then hand Joel the recorder.

“Ohhh you’re smart,” he smiles, and your heart gives a warm little tremble in your chest at his praise. He reduces the volume and presses the play button whereupon a low, garbled hissing stream of speech begins to emanate from the device, some sort of letter being dictated by the sounds of it. Satisfied that it works, Joel begins to put it in his pocket and then hesitates.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just...well it's kinda stupid but I feel bad about recordin' over this. It's like...it's like erasin' the person."

"Well, they could still be kickin' out there," you reassure him with a shrug. "Besides, it would only have sat in that drawer until it became unusable. Better that we take it and use it for something to make Ellie's day special. And it's definitely more useful than these rocks that are probably going to weigh me down and drown me on the swim back."

He laughs at that, the previous small frown of doubt cleared from his handsome face.

"Well, I ain't helpin' you if you get in trouble. You live by the rock, you die by the rock."

"Joel, that is quite possibly the worst saying I've ever heard. I'm just gonna let myself drown after that!"

"Might catch on," he sniffs prissily, then he smiles and winks and you continue on your search for Ellie's birthday surprise.

The corridor leads to a stairwell and you descend into the depths of the museum, now relying fully on your torches again. Joel doesn’t wait this time and instead seeks your hand immediately, the warm press of his palm against yours a lifeline to the reality in front of you. Still no spores, still no infected, and by this time you’re starting to relax a little. You couldn’t be sure, but if anyone had been left in here, or come here to shelter you’re pretty sure you would have seen evidence of them by now. It helps, the idea that at least you probably won’t be fighting off the dead today, and your brain is able to sharpen into better focus without the distraction of that particular worry. The enclosed space of the corridor and its dry, ancient air is stifling though, and you briefly let go of Joel’s hand to unbutton your top shirt and roll up your sleeves to release some of the warmth that is starting to make itself known in prickles on your hairline.

“This looks like the place,” Joel mutters quietly a few moments later. Your torchlight joins his as the light picks out a nondescript door marked “Archives.”

The door deposits you on to a platform and twisting staircases with beautifully carved wooden bannisters lead down into the cavernous room inside. It’s lit by long, rectangular windows set horizontally high up into the walls and is packed floor to ceiling with…stuff. So much of it that your brain has difficulty processing what’s what initially. In-built wooden bookcases line the walls, more information held within than one person could possibly ever absorb. Small workspaces are interspersed with them, long dead computers showing their permanently blank faces to the room. Rows upon rows of large metal shelves and filing cabinets are spread out below, random labelled objects and heavy looking box files sitting forgotten and dusty upon them while smaller, older wooden catalogue drawers with yellowing identifying labels attached stretch away toward the back of the room. Large, semi-opaque plastic sheeting cover erratic piles and you catch glimpses of what lies beneath - plaster cast bones and cardboard boxes and enormous preserving jars, their innards hidden by the yellowish tinge of the embalming fluid that cocoons them. There’s even an old recording desk with tape reels off to one side, the process of digitisation halted forever.

The sheer scale of information to sort through is overwhelming, but you press on into the darkening room and begin to search separately, the feeble yellowish light from outside now being assisted by your torches. Joel takes the filing cabinets, you start with the older indexes. You find plenty to take your interest, but nothing like what Joel needs and even as you wish you had more time to stop and enjoy this peek into a world you had never known, your mind is itching with the knowledge that you have been at the museum for quite a while, your skin starting to buzz with the desire to move on, the ingrained habit of never staying too long in one spot hard to ignore. You stray briefly to the books, not expecting to find what you need, but with a desire to take some additional reading material while you can. Next to one of the workstations lies a copy of “An Idiot’s Guide To Space”, the page open to a section about quasars. Thinking of Joel’s reaction to being presented with it, you smile and put it into your backpack along with a couple of other tomes that you think Ellie might enjoy.

“I think this is it.”

Joel’s voice is low and excited, and you rush to join him in front of one of the filing cabinets. The CD cases he holds all bear handwritten notes – ‘Audio Gemini ‘65’, ‘Audio Apollo ‘69’, ‘Audio ISS ‘96’ – and he looks gleeful as he begins to shove them into his backpack.

“Hold up.” He’s instantly alert, hand moving automatically toward his gun and you shake your head to calm his fears. “No, it's okay. I just had a thought. We need to make sure all of this doesn’t get wet when we’re swimming back.” You cast about for a solution better than the Ziploc bag and light upon the plastic sheeting, tilting your chin toward it. He grins and you begin the process of extracting them from where they are twined around their contents, coughing as the dust they also contain twirls into the air.

Cargo successfully protected, you make your way back toward the entrance. You’ve never seen Joel quite like this before. His eyes are animated and sparkle with excitement, his gait lighter than usual and he literally has a little bounce in his step. The sight makes your heart hurt in the best way. It’s a glimpse into his life before, of the father that he was. Would have been. Could have been. It’s also very infectious and you find yourself grinning widely at both his glee and the prospect of Ellie's as you bid a final farewell to your Triceratops steed.

There is one final stop – the gift shop. The light is minimal in here too, the large windows having been overgrown with moss and vines that block out most of what light remains of the day, but since you’re not too worried about infected anymore you take your time to see what treasures you can find. It’s a pretty good haul. Several packs of unopened, unspoilt colouring pencils, stationary sets with cartoon dinisaurs decorating them, educational books for children that you intend to donate to the daycare and school, some items of clothing that have endured due to their plastic wrappings, a couple of umbrellas. Then, on to the more frivolous things.

“Hey Joel,” you call him over. “What do you think? I didn’t get Ellie anything for her birthday yet.”

He examines the collection in your hands. A few dinosaur pin badges that you thought would look nice on her bag, some glow in the dark stars to decorate her ceiling and two self-assembly kits - one of the solar system and one of a dinosaur skeleton.

“I’d wait to give them to her until you get back to Jackson, obviously. Wouldn’t be much of a surprise for her to come here otherwise!”

“I think you’re spoilin’ that girl,” he smiles, his tone indulgent.

“Says the man who’s risked life and limb and spent an entire week making sure she would get here without encountering any infected,” you retort, also with a smile.

“We ain’t exactly been overrun,” he chuckles.

“Hey, you didn’t know what was out here when you started this. Could have been far worse.”

“Well, that’s true. She’ll love them. The dinosaur kit’s for you though, right?”

“Dammit, you got me! How did you know?”

“I’m psychic, didn’t you know? I know everything that goes on in that head of yours.”

Though he’s clearly teasing, you still can’t stop the flustered feeling that flutters in your chest at his words, and you try very hard not to allow some of the more explicit daydreams that you’ve had about him float to the surface of your mind.

“It’s a Triceratops,” he clarifies, and you hope you’ve gotten away with your embarrassment once again.

As you exit the museum, you're perturbed to see that the sky is looking steadily more menacing. The grey clouds above are heavy and brooding, and you resign yourself to the possibility of staying in the tent all night. Though was it really resigning yourself if you were looking forward to it? To talking to Joel, listening to him strum softly on his guitar, to falling asleep next to him under the soothing hiss of the rain pattering on your tent?

“Urgh, my boots were so nearly dryyyy,” you whinge as you step back into the pool of water. “If you come across any next time you’re on a run, please get them for me. These are never going to recover!”

“Get in line,” he calls back as he swims ahead. “I’ll be lookin’ for my own!”

You make it about halfway back before the heavens open. Fat droplets splash into the water around you and even though you’re half submerged and wet from the neck down already, somehow the rain makes you feel even more soaked through. God only knew how you were going to dry off-

A wave of water suddenly tips over your head and you splutter, swiping at your eyes so your vision clears. When it does, you’re met with the sight of Joel grinning at you as if he had just told an amazing joke.

“What the fuck! What was that for?!”

“What? You can’t get much wetter!” he laughs as he gestures to the sky.

You swim closer toward him with exaggerated movements, launching wave after wave of water over him and when you reach him you take him by surprise when you grab on to his broad shoulders and push him down to dunk him under the agitated surface of the once-peaceful stream.

“Neither can you, now,” you cry triumphantly as you swim away from him.

“I’ll get you for that!” you hear him splutter behind you.

“Gotta catch me first, Miller,” you shout back gleefully as you race to shore, the hissing splash of rain surrounding you.

In fact, you reach the shore at the same time and you kick water at each other as you exit the stream, both still trying to get the upper hand in your silly game.

“Hey! Not fair, your legs are bigger than mine,” you protest as a particularly large wave reaches you.

You make a break for the trees and stand under their relative shelter, chuckling softly as you start to try to wring out the bottom of your shirt and barely noticing the droplets of water that slide off the leaves above and trail down the nape of your neck.

“Aw man, I think I might as well just throw these in there and be done with it!” you say as you shake your arms violently, trying in vain to make yourself even a little bit drier. “At least now I don’t need to try to wash in-“

Your words are stolen from you as you look up at Joel. Instead of following your futile efforts to dry off, he’s rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and is now running his hands through his hair to push it back from his face. Time seems to slow as you stare, taking in the way his fingers run smoothly through the mix of slicked back silver and black, veins prominent on the back of his hands, his brow furrowed a little and eyes closed as he concentrates on his task. One stubborn curl won’t stay. It pops forward over his forehead and deposits a droplet of water that runs down the bold curve of his nose to combine with another and another as they join together and run in rivulets over his neck, the hollow of his throat, until they melt into the rest of the moisture on his skin.

The air in your lungs feels trapped. You can’t take a breath in, you don’t even want to because if you do it means the moment will have passed and you will have to tear your eyes away from the divine sight you have been presented with. And it’s already too late, far too late. He must have seen you. You’ve been staring at him for way too long for him not to have noticed.

But no, he hasn’t. Because he’s staring at you too, and it's as if time has now simply ceased to be altogether. A shiver passes through you at the look in his eyes. The most tender hunger you’ve ever seen lies within those dark and fathomless depths. They linger on your lips, they rove slowly downward, and suddenly you realise that you forgot to do your shirt up before swimming back. Your chest moves more rapidly at the revelation, and he allows his eyes to rake down your body before he too seems to remember himself. He drags his eyes back to your face and there is a thickening in the air that has nothing to do with the storm clouds.

He steps forward confidently, once, twice, and you do not step back. His hand comes up, steady as anything. This close he’s still so calm, but you feel like you’re trembling so hard that you’re practically vibrating. The pad of his finger is calloused under your jaw as he tilts your chin and you go with it willingly. He cradles your jaw in one large hand as his thumb softly traces a water droplet from your lower lip, dragging it slightly with the movement, and you can’t take your eyes from the endless abyss of his as he bends to you, as he moves himself impossibly near. His lips are so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath brush against you and now you can’t take your eyes off of that perfect mouth, can almost taste the sweetness of him-

BOOM

He leaps backward, the thunder startling you apart and you’re so dizzied by what has happened and what has not happened that you can’t even translate the words that are now falling from those beautiful lips.

“Shit! The horses!”

Your brain finally catches up with your ears and your eyes grow wide. Shit. The horses.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery

Next chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x you #joel tlou x f!reader #joel tlou x female reader #joel tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction

74 notes · View notes

shadow-genesis-yay · 7 months

Note

Gimme them Memory headcanons! Please!

Say less! o7

>headcanons under the more/reading<

(Sorry it's long & for late response, was shopping for birthday stuff)

First 1: Memory in my design has white streaks they got from Void's side! Void just dyes his hair black to hide em for unknown reasons (probably ego or smth I dunno. Voids out of my control /j)

2: They're 6'4, uses mostly It/They but also uses he. They prefer mostly the other two tho but won't get mad if he is also used. (This one's mostly based off how in canon, Memory was referred to as a thing by Sabre, and he would use It/They until switching to He. Mem was still called a thing but used he ig). Oh and ig they also used nicknamed but only like it when Void calls em them. Like Memmy/Mem/Memoy/Fancy Steve lol

3: He has light sensitivity and uses their mask to help it when outside of the void/memory dimension

4: It has heterochromia, but in a different way! His left eye doesn't have a iris/pupil, and the area that's supposed to be white is pure red like Voids. (I think it's called the sclera) and also on said left side, they have a scar on its cheek that it got during some event they doesn't like talking about

5: Memmy likes cats and owns two! One tuxedo cat named Voodoo, and the other, a black cat (Bombay I think) called Morticia! Memmys had them since they was a smol lil swirly peppermint boi, and treats them like royalty as deserved 😤

6: (this one's kinda from a quote my friend made but it's too funny to not make a Memory headcanon) If Memory got called a specific slur I'm not gonna say, he'd just be like "Yeah no duh, it's obvious. Now please tell me something I already don't know about myself, or leave please and thanks."

7: Memory is highly skilled in swordsman ship, archery, and fighting. It's won awards in competitions they entered secretly (not because Void would be mad, but because they're Void's son. Void's like a king/God in the eyes of the other steves [of course except Nightmare LMAO] and terrifies em.) They's only lost once and that was more on its end since he didn't want to do competitions anymore, so they purposely disqualified itself by starting a fight.

8: while this one may be more of a ship that was started for funnies, it took my brain over so uh yeah. Memory is married to Faceless. The reason for why (to me) is because since Faceless doesn't have a face (no duh), he's immune to Memory's powers, even when mimicking others. And Faceless just couldn't resist a fancy boi in a suit. (I love this ship but at the same time I'm like "I want it gone from my mind its been 3 months help") ik they never met canonically but I speculate they met a tiny bit when Elemental worked for Void and El had to capture Faceless. It's a long shot but yolo I was bored

9: Memmy boi like flowers. Mostly roses or any black flower, but they'll be content with any other color if red & black are unavailable :)

10: While Memory may seem stern and cold, when you get to know them, he's really nice! Though it's usually always on guard and will unintentionally break your arm if you happen to spook them (somehow).

11: Memmys very sneaky and will smile a cheeky smile when it scares someone from behind.

12: Memory really hates cameras. Like, REALLY REALLY hates em. Whether it's off or not, they don't care and WILL throw a dagger at it. This one's more from a funny thing Sabre himself replied with in his discord when I said "I wish Memory had more screen time. He would of bee such a cool villain" with Sabre replying "maybe he did but we forgot".....I walked basically right into that joke but I love it so I'm considering it canon /hj

Uhhhh yeah anyways I think that's it other than more funny meme ones me and a friend made when I was bored and thought 'what if after the camera was off, Sabre and the steves would have a smp world together' and Memory would be the sometimes chaotic one of the server.

Ye uh I rambled alot lmao idk if this will even post but thank you so much for the ask and willingness to hear the headcanons about our silly little peppermint boi! Memory deserves so much more love that what's seen, I love him so much

Memory Steve, our beloved 'forgotten' king <3 👑

#favremysabre #steve saga #memory steve #asks #marii-the-shapeshifter #shadow-gens shadow ask!

18 notes · View notes

swanmaiden5 · 9 months

Text

Dreamscape ( i )

John Constantine x Fem!Reader

"It was hard to believe this wasn't a dream- this wasn't something your brain created to meet your soul's other half. It was real..."

A soulmate AU where you share dreams with the warlock known as John Constantine throughout both of your lives.

Have this posted on my AO3 account, and I felt like posting on here too- with a few minor changes

Warnings for this chapter-- Mentions of John's childhood ab*se, but it's not heavy- small descriptions and talks of it.

Sunlight peeked through the curtains, coming close to hitting your face as you slowly opened your eyes. You could feel his arms wrapped around her, pressing your back against his chest. It wasn't a tight hold, but if you moved it would surely wake the man snuggling up against you.

Not that you wanted to.

You wanted him to enjoy a peaceful sleep for a change. Besides, it was early...

Wasn't it?

You needed a clock. Clock, where are you?

You looked around the motel room, your eyes lighting up with joy upon spotting your phone on the nightstand next to your side of the bed. Thank goodness your dominant hand wasn't trapped at the moment. Which meant you just might be able to get the device without waking him up! Slowly and carefully, you reached over to grab your phone.

Your fingertips barely grazed the cool metal.

Much to your frustration.

"Damn it." You swore under your breath as you struggled to reach it. Why couldn't your arms be just a bit longer? Or better yet, why couldn't your phone be a bit closer? Eventually, your fingers got a better grip on the device, a mental cheer going off in your mind.

You did it! Now to check the time-

A startled noise left you when he felt him nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His stubble once again tickling your exposed neck. You got such a surprise your grip loosened on your phone- said object making a quiet thud as it hit carpet. A shaky breath left you as he placed one or two lazy kisses along your neck, your face warming from such actions.

Funny at that. A grown woman you are, yet this man can still make your heart do funny dances while blushes race across your face and down your neck.

"Something wrong luv?"

"Hmm? Oh no, it just startled me." You confessed, adjusting yourself so you could see him. Your soulmate. You were still getting used to the fact.

There was a gentle expression on his face as he stared at you. His eyes no longer holding in that frustration and sadness you had come to know. There was a light to them now, a light that made your soul sing. "You okay?" You still couldn't help but ask, which earning a sleepy chuckle from the blonde male. "I'm alright." He assured you, kissing your forehead as he hugged you close. "Didn't mean to wake you earlier." You murmured, humming in content as he rubbed little circles on the small of your back. "You didn't." The male muttered lazily.

You hummed under your breath, it was so easy to doze off. It was safe, you knew you were safe with your soulmate. Even so...

"You feel like getting up?"

A giggle threatened to leave you as he let out a tired grumble. You took that as a no. "It's Saturday." The blonde argued. "I'm pretty sure it's Sunday." You countered. It only earned a chuckle from him. "All the more reason to stay in bed." He replied, giving your forehead another kiss. He may say otherwise, but you had a feeling he was wide awake now.

It was hard to believe this wasn't a dream- this wasn't something your brain created to meet your soul's other half. It was real... as real as you and John Constantine lived and breathed. Closing your eyes as you leaned against him, your mind drifted off. Off to the first time you met him.

Everyone had a soulmate, one could meet through the dreamscape. Both you and your soulmate were able to talk and touch within the realm of dreaming. The world created around you was all based on things you dreamt of. Sometimes they were good. Sometimes they were stuff of nightmares.

Part of the reason why having your soulmate in the dreamscape was so important. They helped pull you from the bad things.

You didn't realize how bad things were for John when you first met though.

The shared dreaming didn't start until the soulmates turned thirteen- around that time, you didn't have a lot of friends. Yes you were on friendly terms with some of the girls in your class, but you liked vastly things from them. And while they weren't cruel... there was a good distance between you and them. Half the boys in your grade at the time weren't bad. Although the other half did things that just made your blood boil with their actions.

So on the day of your thirteenth birthday, you couldn't wait to go to bed. You just knew you and your soulmate would have everything in common. Or at least liked a few of the same things.

That was how it worked, right...?

Your parents had similar taste in music, and they liked watching those old films on Friday night. Slipping under the covers of your bed that night, you soon closed your eyes... and you were off.

And it was just as amazing as you thought it would be.

Your eyes widened as you took in the scene around you. It was an exact replica of the outdoor world from your favorite show at the time. "Hello? Hello!" You frowned upon not hearing a response. After a few moments, you headed off down a pathway. Suddenly you came upon a grove of willow trees, and the sound of crying.

Crying...?

"I'm coming!" You swallowed hard as you quickened your footsteps, slowing down when you spotted the source.

The boy sitting underneath a willow tree wore pajamas that didn't match. His blonde hair was a mess, but that wasn't your main concern. Your eyes were fixated on the cigarette burn mark on his upper shoulder. And the bruises on his forearms. ".. are you okay?" You were too scared to step closer, would he even let you? You never saw a boy his age cry before... it left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

"Go away..." His voice was weak, but you could hear the accent nonetheless.

"Just go away." He repeated, his voice a touch more firm than before.

"No-" You froze in place at the sharp glare he went you, his eyes red from crying. "I... I won't go until I know you're okay." You stated, trying to keep your voice steady as you eventually sat down. Not too close though, but just enough to make it known you weren't running off anytime soon.

He glared at you before turning away. A sharp feeling of hurt tugged at your heart, which you quickly squashed down. Something awful happened to him... he was in pain. So much pain... how could you make it go away? Pressing your lips into a thin line, your shoulders sagged as you sighed softly. You told him your name, soon talking about your likes and dislikes. Secretly hoping it helped get his mind off whatever was wrong.

"Am I talking too fast?" You eventually asked when you took notice of him again. His body slightly turned to your direction.

He didn't look you in the eye though, seemingly more interested in the fresh green grass. "... mom keeps telling me I talk too fast." You continued on when he didn't answer. Much to your dismay. It faded quickly though when the blonde soon spoke up.

"... John. My name's John." He soon told you, your eyes wide from surprise before a small smile grew. You liked the name. It reminded you of the Saint, and a famous actor your parents enjoyed seeing. "... you still have a mum?" John soon asked. Your happy feeling soon turning into something more cold... and shocked.

Did... did he loose his mom?

"... I do." You answered softly, biting your lip in worry as you weighed the question. "... what happened to your mom?" You eventually asked. John snatched up fistfuls of grass, angrily tossing them away. "She died. Dad says it was my fault."

Horror gripped at you. "But you're a kid!" You exclaimed. How could someone hurt their own mother? "She died giving birth to me." He soon explained. Your nerves calmed down... somewhat. "... you were a baby, you didn't want it to happen." You whispered, sad, sad that this was thrown at John. And angry. Angry that his father saw fit to blame him for something beyond his control. You scooted a bit closer to him, frowning in worry as he continued ripping up bits of grass.

"I hate him..." He growled out.

"Don't say that-"

"It's true! Ever since my sister left he..." John trailed off as more tears threatened to spill. His eyes growing wide when you gently hugged. It last a few seconds, before you pulled away. "I'm sorry... it's just... you looked like you needed it." You admitted. Getting a hug from your mom or dad always made you feel better. You thought it might work for John. The other teen seemed hesitant for a few moments, before he inched closer to you. And while you didn't hug him again, you were more than happy to simply sit beside him.

"..I like magic." You heard John admit after several minutes passed by. "Really?" You asked in a bit of awe. Most of the boys in your class enjoyed sports or superheroes. None of them expressed an interest in magic.

"Can... you tell me more?" You asked again, a smile appearing on your as John started explaining the magic he was always looking up in his spare time. Suffice to say, it wasn't the magic you had in mind. It sounded spooky and scary... but magic itself wasn't bad- it was bad when bad people used it. Like the villains in your current favorite shows and movies- the good guys used magic too to fight back. Well maybe not all of the good guys, but a good many of them.

John seemed a lot better too, his eyes were still red from crying of course. But the sadness from earlier seemed to be disappearing a little. "I'm going to use my magic to talk to mum." He explained. You... weren't quite sure how that could work. His mother was dead.

But magic could be very powerful- he could find a way. Surely he could! "I bet she will be very happy to hear from you." You soon replied, a startled noise leaving you when you saw the world around the two of you start to fade. "No- no wait!"

You snapped out of your past when you heard John call your name. "Knew you didn't want to get up, you were nodding off there." You flushed at the teasing tone and smirk John sent you. "I wasn't nodding off." You countered, grumbling faintly as he chuckled.

"Sure you weren't." John countered playfully. Your grumbling continued as you reluctantly slipped out of his embrace, earning a groan from him. "Come on luv." He hid under the comforter when you tossed him his clothes. "It's only...." You trailed off as you picked up your phone.

"9:37 AM." You answered, going about the room to pick up your clothes from last night. Setting them aside, you went through your bag to pull out a t-shirt in your favorite color along with some jeans.

"Too early." You heard John call out, earning a faint giggle from you. "I'll be in the shower if you need me- to talk." You were quick to throw in at the last minute. Not missing the way John pulled himself out from hiding. He sent you a smirk that was anything but innocent.

"And if I wanted to talk to you in the shower?" He asked.

You responded in kind. A glare that held no real bite to it as you entered the bathroom, promptly closing the door behind you.

#john constantine #nbc constantine #dc constantine #john constantine x reader #no use of y/n #john constantine x fem!reader #soulmates #soulmate au #romantic soulmates

45 notes · View notes

oscar-piastri · 2 years

Text

safe place (2) [arthur leclerc x reader]

title: safe place (2) [read part one here]

pairing: arthur leclerc x reader

summary: you finally understand what is your safe place

words: 1k

It has been a few weeks since you went back home. Things weren’t perfect but it was going great. You found a new job, with more hours and more money. Living in Monaco was very great, but wanting to move out with any financial help was a nightmare and you could only rely on yourself. Having to keep studying wasn’t helping at all, but luckily, you had found someone to help you

“What about this one?” Arthur shoved his phone screen to your face. “It’s cute, affordable and… close to my place”

You sighed, closing your textbook to take Arthur’s phone. “Yeah, I like it” you said as you looked through all the pictures. Arthur was right, it was affordable, thanks to the money you managed to save and the financial aids you were eligible for. “I will call” you said as you wrote down the offer reference and the phone number to set up a visit.

“We make a great team” Arthur proudly said, a giant smile appearing on his face, sitting on his bed. You were studying at his place for one of your exams and he decided to help you in your apartment hunt while you were ‘kicking ass and getting good grades’

“We do,” you replied, sitting next to him. “Honestly, I’m thankful for everything you did, and are doing for me” Arthur was slightly blushing and it made you smile. He was about to say something when your alarm went on. “Shit, I have to go to work” you hurried up, grabbing all your stuff you shoved in your backpack.

“Good luck” Arthur said as he was closely following you to walk you to the door.

Before leaving you felt your brain connecting and you turned around “Shit, I won’t have time to see you before you leave right?” you asked Arthur, as you remembered he had to leave early tomorrow morning to attend another of his race weekends.

“Nope. What a bummer you can’t come with me because of work. What will I do without my lucky charm?” Arthur grinned and you couldn’t help but smile.

“No matter where I will be, you can be sure I will be cheering for you” you said before waving goodbye and running to work.

Saturday morning, you’re working the morning shift at work meaning you were set to miss Arthur’s sprint race. Luckily you weren’t working for his feature race and he was starting from a good position. Throughout the morning, your mind was lost, only focusing on Arthur, and you spent a good part of your shift, wishing for it to be over soon, so you could see how the race went.

As soon as your shift ended, you hurried to get your phone and your heart literally missed a beat, when you read the notifications on your phone ‘F3 Sprint Race: big crash from Arthur Leclerc’. It was like the world was spinning around you, and your brain was already thinking the worst. As you were walking home, you tried to call Arthur many times, you texted him like crazy and you checked social media for updates. You knew he was out of the car but cared way too much about Arthur, not to worry.

As you were about to reach your house, your phone rang and you sight in relief when you saw it was Arthur calling you.

“Oh god, Arthur, are you okay?!” you asked right away, not giving him the time to speak first. You heard him chuckle at the other side.

“I’m fine. The car took the big hit”

“My heart dropped when I left work and read what happened. I-I should have come, you said I was your lucky charm, maybe it wouldn’t have happened!”

“Calm down Y/N. I am fine. I did a check up at the medical center and I’m totally fine, even fit to race tomorrow morning. I’m super strong, I’ll even get on the podium tomorrow, I can feel it.” Arthur tried to reassure you but you stayed silent. “How was work by the way?”

“Boring. But on Monday after school I’m going to visit the place you showed me. I have a feeling it’s going to be good.”

“Really? That’s amazing! I’ll be crossing my fingers. I’m flying back home on Monday, so maybe we can meet after the visit so I can have the privilege of being the first one to know everything?” Arthur asked

“Okay, deal”

“Great. Okay I gotta go, but we’ll talk later”

Monday was quick to arrive and you were glad, not just because you were one step closer to being without your parents, but because Arthur was meeting you after the visit and you were dying to see him again. After the scare you had Saturday, you just wanted one thing and it was hugging him and being near him.

The visit went well, it was small but cozy and had everything you could need. You had met the owners of the place and the feeling went really great so you were hopeful they would pick you. You were making your way outside when you got a text from Arthur saying “I’m outside :)”. You didn’t bother to reply and simply ran outside the building to find Arthur on his phone, leaning against a pole.

“Arthur!” you called him excited. Arthur looked up from his phone and his face lit up when he saw you running to him. He barely had the time to put his phone away before you threw your arms around him. “I’m happy to see you” you said, breaking the hug

“In one piece you mean?” he joked, making you gently hit his shoulder “Okay, okay not funny”

You both stood there, in silence for a few minutes before Arthur decided to speak again.

“So… You think this could be your safe place?” he asked, pointing at the building behind you.

“Not really…” you mumbled

“Why? I thought it was perfect” he asked, his face showing signs of confusion.

“Oh no I meant… I really like this place, I could see myself living there but… I don’t think it is my actual safe place” you explained. Funny because you thought it could be the safe place you and Arthur have been talking about, but when Arthur asked, it all changed.

“Oh…”

“Arthur, you’re my safe place” you blurred out. “I’ve never felt safer than when I am in your arms or near you or in the same room”

“Y/N I-”

“No please… Just let me speak” you insisted and Arthur closed his mouth right away. “I don’t know, I think it’s when I found out about your crash that all the pieces got together in my head and my heart. Arthur you make me so happy, you make me laugh, you’re basically the sunshine of my moody days. You’re always on my mind and at first I thought it was just because you were checking up on me, helping me but no. Arthur, I like you. I really really like you. A lot. And not as a friend. I think I’m falling for you” you confessed to Arthur, feeling a big weight dropping from your shoulders. You looked at Arthur, unsure of his reaction.

“Can you say it again?” Arthur asked you, leaving you confused.

“Uh? You- what? The entire thing? Because I- I don’t think I can, you know it was really spontaneous”

Arthur put his body closer to yours. “No, just the last part,” he said with a smile.

“I’m falling for you,” you replied firmly.

“Good” he said, bringing his face a few inches from yours. “Because I already fell for you. And I fell hard”

#arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc imagines #f3 imagine #f3 imagines #w*#*

323 notes · View notes

yakowo · 1 year

Note

WELL...

[Tw//: cursing, military figure written by someone with little to no military knowledge, no i did not double check for spelling i apologize]

-----

Ghost stares at the 13 or 14 year old boy, 'Joey' with a hard look, not enjoying how rudely the kid just jumped up to him and begged for his attention. Honestly, if he wasn't in a good mood, he would've probably smacked the shit out of his kid by now. "Well? Ask your questions. What do you want to know about *me* personally."

"What's your favorite candy?"

Simon blinks. "What?"

"You know... sugar? A delightful treat?"

The kid replies with a small grin.

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Weeeeellll I might sneak you a present for being the only person who's agreed to this."

"I tried to disa-" "Are you gonna tell me?"

Ghost huffed a small chuckle, "... milkyway..."

"American?"

"Mhm."

Joey writes it down in a shitty notebook, clearly used and abused over the few months or weeks this kid has had it. Ghost now had a better look at the kid though, since they moved to a spot with better lighting. He had a horrible burn scare, that covered part of his face, still looking tender, though taken care of. His eyes were a piercing light blue, nearing gray, and his hair spiky, sticking up everywhere, milk chocolate brown, like a hershy's bar.

Too bad he wasn't as sweet as one.

"What's it like to travel?"

"Fine, though I don't travel around for a good reason."

"Does your family miss you when you leave?"

"Don't got any."

"Rrriiiiiiight." Joey winks at him twice and gives a little nudge that confuses Ghost for a brief moment.

The kid continues to write some more stuff down, "what's your mindset put through when you're told to kill? Do you even think about it in the moment? Or do you enjoy it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, that was kind of an dickhead question, but how do you cope with knowing you have and will have to kill people?"

Ghost glares at the little shit, who seems to actually look guilty at his phrasing of the question.

"I just shut off. My brain either thinks about a way to keep me alive, and- or a way to keep my fellow soldiers alive. I don't focus on the deaths around me, I focus on the lives I am protecting."

"Right." He's quick to write this all down, seeming to think his response was inspiring. Exciting even.

"Do you think a world with no wars would be a safe world to live in? Or do you think it's safer having these wars?"

"It depends, some wars help others in their countries break free from a corrupted government, others are made because of those said governments wanting more land, or more money. Or just more."

He nods, still writing. Writing. Writing. The scribbling noise and quiet breathing are all that is heard for a while. It's been 15 minutes ever since this kid came up to him. He'll just take one more question, and get back to the group.

"Hey, one more question, then I'm leaving."

"Aw- sh- okay. Uhm. Do you know a kid named, 'Joseph Riley'?"

Ghost has to close his eyes and he can't hear himself wince when he hears that name. Images of his nephew-

"Uncle Si! Uncle Simon please! I want to play airport with you!"

Ghost opens his eyes and stares at Joey.

"... why?"

"..." Joey has this look in his eyes, as if he's expecting Ghost to know something.

"I just. Wanted... to know." He breathes out, not realizing clearly that he was holding a breath.

Silence. It feels deafening.

"... classified." He stands up,

"Can- can we please talk again! I have more questions. Here- I have a sorta-card!"

"..." Ghost still takes the cheaply assembled card. Ghost leaves. Ghost has a panic attack at his barracks. Ghost has nightmares everytime be goes to bed.

.... Ghost has an itching need to interigate Joey to see how the fuck he got the idea to ask that.

-----

BOOP. I love this au a lot I'm glad you are interested in it too :D gonna assign myself as :] anon!

- :] anon

:] anon strikes again with their amazing AU!!!🫡✨

OH MY GOD HE ASKED THE QUESTION! Poor Simon though, it completely caught him off guard, yet Joseph nailed to pique his interest. I SO need their conversation when he comes clear, I already feel the hurt/comfort that will come with it 😫

The range of questions from Jo made me laugh a little ngl, from favorite candy to 'how does it feel to kill' the energy that was created in the studio was INDEED uncomfortable 😂

#im eating this AU up and leaving no crumbs #thank you SO much for sharing more of it!!!#my asks

27 notes · View notes

donnerpartyofone · 7 months

Note

Wow, I just saw where you put the comma in your user name. It's even funnier now.

I never thought of it as Donner, Party of One as a table reservation. Announced in an officious tone.

I pictured it as donnerparty OF ONE. Meaning there is only one person in the Donner Party. As in, you are all alone in the cold woods eating yourself. LOL.

Hahaha obviously this is the username that keeps on giving! It's interesting how people react to it. I don't remember how long ago I came up with it but I'm sure I was feeling VERY clever, it would be many years before I learned that Robin Williams made the same joke in some standup routine, and he probably wasn't the first person to think of it either. I once applied for a job where the person who interviewed me vigorously insisted that I got it from the movie SCREAM, and I'm sure that joke is nowhere to be found in any installment of SCREAM but she was so passionate about her assumption for some reason, I didn't fight her on it too hard; in retrospect I chose the irrational belief that that was an omen that that was going to be a really hard, shitty, low-paying job.

My conscious interest in cannibalism emerged during my first semester at college, where it became clear that I had been interested in cannibalism all along but had never really connected the dots. It seemed to be the most frightening and compelling thing I could think of. When I was a kid I had a copy of Silence of the Lambs that I carried around like it was the Bible, reading it over and over. I had intensely vivid nightmares about THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE for years before I would ever see the movie, my brain just seemed to know it would become a big part of my life. RAVENOUS came out right before I went to college and when I got there I made a cult out of it; I was watching it at-least-daily in the dorm lounge, which at first people hated, then some people started to join me, then after we came back from Thanksgiving I learned that a lot of people went home and showed it to their families! And then it seemed to happen that whenever I picked the movie, it would involve cannibalism unpredictably--none of us were Shakespeare-literate enough to know it would be in TITUS, and when it randomly came up in DEAD MAN everyone turned around and looked at me like I must have known, like I tricked them. There were other examples that aren't coming to me. At some point it just sort of became my identity. I used to have a couple of fork & knife clothing patches that I painted and wore on various things.

I just think it's interesting, like it has lots of allegorical possibilities. I'm mainly attracted to it as a description of extreme anti-sociality. Like in TEXAS CHAIN SAW, you have a nuclear family in the American heartland, but instead of a heterogeneous unit that makes more people, you have a clan that is somehow only males and they consume people. (I mean there's a mother theoretically but she's literally a mummy, which I think is pointed) I'm interested in that kind of unhealthy system inversion. But people react to it all kinds of different ways, it's curious. I recently contacted this woman who wrote a horror-related paper I loved and she replied that she'd be happy to talk to me about anything "except cannibalism :)". I said this elsewhere but when I arrived at this book launch I had to host last week, the author told me "You know you're doing something right if people are offended!" and explained that when the event was publicized with my bio attached, which listed some of my academic interests, some guy emailed him "THERE IS NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT CANNIBALISM!" and cc'd a bunch of different people like it was an emergency; I mean considering what else was in my bio, I guess he thinks I find murder and sexual exploitation "funny" too, but none of that stuff bothered him. After the event someone waited patiently to tell me about his favorite metal band that only plays songs about serial killers, including some prominent cannibals, and I had to promise I would listen to it. Whatever you think about it, it's a very provocative topic, and I guess it's good that people are still sensitive enough to have a strong reaction!

#what's going on in the hannibal fandom is NOT provocative though #just turning everything into sex is too easy #most people are casually turning everything into sex all day long like it seems to be harder NOT to

9 notes · View notes

c0ffinshit · 2 years

Text

Snap Out of It (Ray Harris x Reader) Part One

Part Two

A/N: hello hello everyone, I finally got around to write something! yay! I haven’t been seeing a lot of Ray x Readers so I thought I’d put in my two-cents in the form of ex-lovers to lovers!

word count: 1,416

warnings: memories of sex, awkward as hell, silly goofy sweet romance, kinda angsty, like a sped-up version of the original plot of Raymond and Ray

I never thought he would bother to talk to me after high school. After everything, we’ve been through. Nothing, not even a call. So, when he did, this weird regret-like feeling washed over me. My brain must’ve forgotten that I saved his number ages ago. I still picked up the phone, acting like nothing was wrong.

"Listen," a voice says on the other line, "it's Ray, remember me?"

My heart drops. To finally hear Ray’s voice after all this time made me feel like I was going through every emotion possible.

"Hey Ray, been a while," I reply, my hand running up and down my occupied arm.

"Can you do me a favor?" Ray asks, his air-conditioner running quietly in the background.

I paused for a moment. Ray was always the type to call and ask for a favor, and usually, it would bite me in the ass later down the line. That was god knows how long ago; maybe he had changed and become a better person. It doesn't feel as if it would be in his wheelhouse.

"It depends," I breathe, "what is it?"

Ray paused for a moment. Maybe he did change; he was never this quiet and reserved.

"My dad’s dead." Ray plainly says.

I never met Ray’s father. He always told me he was a nightmare and that “stepping into that home means you’ll never come back out.” I always thought that was just his way of being overprotective of me.

"And I need you to come with me to the funeral, please?" he finishes.

And now, my ex-boyfriend from high school, whose father I never knew, is asking me to show up to said father’s funeral. If you couldn’t tell, funerals were never my thing. They don’t make me feel the way I’m supposed to. Funerals are supposed to make you feel sad or angry. To me, it's a nothing feeling. So, with both an ex-boyfriend, who I haven’t seen in over ten years. And then add a funeral on top of that. Jesus, it's a recipe for disaster.

"Ray, you know I can’t." I say, taking my phone away from my ear.

"Wait!" he exclaims, "please don’t hang up!"

I place my phone back up to my ear and groan loudly, "Why should I?"

"It's my dad (Y/N). Just come with me." he says, "I’ll pick you up and everything. You don’t have to lift a finger."

"Fine, but you own me when my dad kicks the bucket." I say, "No takebacks either."

"Alright, fine, be there at ten. Text me your address." Ray says, finally hanging up the phone.

I place my landline back on the wall. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

My stairs creak as I walk up to my bedroom, the same place where Ray kissed me for the first time. This has been my home since my mother died in late March. I moved my father into a retirement home. They just let me have the house, even though I had an apartment back in New York. I stopped paying rent for that apartment and moved all my stuff into this old dump. I shouldn’t be talking this way about my childhood home, but let’s be fair; the place is falling apart at the seams. I packed all I could into a backpack and my purse and waited outside as I texted him my address. Suddenly, I was entering Ray’s homely car and pulling away from the place I dubbed home for so many years.

"So, what made you come back after all these years of not seeing me?" I ask, playing with the buttons on the bottom of my shirt.

"You’re the only person whose relationship I haven’t fucked up yet. You still trust me. After all, I did to you. With all the lying and cheating, I treated you like shit (Y/N)." He said, not taking his eyes off the road.

I did miss him. I miss when he would hold me when I was having issues with my dad. The way he played the trumpet. That is what I missed the most about him. But did I think about him constantly? Fuck no.

"Is Raymond coming?" I ask, looking over at him.

"His wife is taking him. We’ll meet him there." He says, looking over at me for a split second.

He seemed so dry, so void of conversion. The silence in the car felt deafening. He was right; he did hurt me. I stole, lied, and cheated away from my parents. All to get closer. He was my first love, and well… my first time. I remember it so vividly. It was after homecoming, like hours after it started. I asked him to dance with me during a slow song.

As we were dancing, I felt something close to my leg. Ray had an erection in the middle of the dancefloor, and all he could do was pull me closer, trying to hide it from the rest of the world. I told Ray to wait outside after the song was over. I quickly told all my friends that I was going out for a smoke. Once we were both outside the school, I got him into my car. I let him drive to the school for homecoming. We kissed each other until both our clothes were on the floor of my car. I want to say we made love that night. But it doesn’t feel like love looking back. It doesn’t feel like anything. We had sex in my car, which was really my mother’s.

"What are you thinking about?" Ray asks, pulling out a packet of mints from his pocket.

"Nothing." I reply, feeling myself getting redder.

Yeah, if nothing involves Ray’s whimpering in your ear, telling you how badly he wants you.

"Okay," Ray replies.

The car was pretty quiet after that as we drove up to the burial site. Ray was upset; the origin of that I didn’t know. We got everything out of the car and met with Raymond and everyone else. Everything moved so slowly once we got there. Ray and Raymond were talking with other people, and I just stood there alone. Feeling alone in a cemetery with other people is a bizarre feeling. You’re alone with dead people, but you’re not alone either. I felt alone, but I wasn’t alone quite the paradox.

Okay, no one has talked to me since we got here, so I might as well leave-

"Hey (Y/N)!" I heard Ray call, "I need to tell you something."

I groan to myself and walk over to him. I just want to go home.

"Listen Ray, can I borrow your phone? I want to call an Uber and go home-"

"Sweetheart, you can’t leave now. I have something important for you." Ray’s voice feels small and quiet.

Sweetheart? Ugh, the last time he called me was right before we broke up.

"I know how you feel about cemeteries, but can you please just listen to me?"

I nod, knowing the minute he’s done, I’m asking for his phone again.

"Fine, make it quick."

Ray takes a deep breath and begins, "Do you remember our first date?"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well, since it's been years we’ve broken up. And a few days ago, I was thinking. Since I’m all clean now-"

"Clean from what?"

"Don’t worry about it. Anyways since we’re both mature adults now. We could try again?"

"Try again? Are you fucking serious?" I laugh.

"This isn’t a laughing matter (Y/N). I didn’t realize that I missed you until you were gone. Seriously, I think I still love you."

I couldn’t help but continue to laugh, "Ray, are you high? That was high school; you don’t know me now."

He looks at the cold ground for a second, "I want to know you now (Y/N). You’re still as smart and as funny as I remember you being. I never gave up on you; I just got scared."

I didn’t know what to do. Ray never gave up on me. He just got scared.

"Ray… I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," Ray holds out his arms, "just come here."

I walk into his big arms. I meekly wrap my arms around him.

Your name, forever the name on my lips.

"You know, I still love you. I never stopped loving you."

#ethan hawke x reader #ethan hawke #raymond and ray #ray harris x reader #ray harris

62 notes · View notes

coramatus · 1 year

Text

Under the City Streets (part 9)

And now for something completely different: hard lessons in perspectives. A drabble.

What happened to the usual mains Emmet and Volo? Read part 8.

The Hunter has long lost track of how much time their quest has taken so far. Granted, their sense of time was never the best to begin with. Considering what their normal abode was like, a million years and a second may as well have been the same thing as far as they were concerned. Gaining any frame of reference outside of that seemed unfathomable. What did they care about the passage of time for anyone beside themself?

So shortsighted…

Somewhere in the City, the Hunter silently broods in one of its saloons. They would nurse the stiff drink before them if fiddling with fingers came naturally to them. But it did not. Instead, they sit with an unnatural stillness that sends others scuttling away from their little corner of unusually dark shadows, their face hidden under a deep hood. The only thing that moves is their red eyes, masked under pointed, dark lenses, constantly scanning their surroundings, constantly thinking.

Perhaps it's an instinct of their current form. They never really grasped just what nervous creatures humans fundamentally were. To always be on alert, to always be thinking ahead, to always move, move, move.

No wonder they invented alcohol.

In their proper shape, the Hunter would not be able to process the stuff at all on account not having a real metabolism or even digestive system to begin with. But now that both had been foisted upon them, the choice of humans to deliberately cloud their own minds to ease the harsh edges of reality suddenly made a lot more sense.

Perhaps they were wiser than the Hunter had given them credit for.

…or maybe consuming alcohol only made them more prone to pontification.

Not that it’s doing any good right now. Not when their fleshy brain matter keeps coming back to the latest development in their situation.

Their eyes narrow.

They nearly had it.

The closest they had ever been to conquering the Beast, their Ultimate Adversary. Just one final well-placed strike would have ended this nightmare once and for all.

But it just had to pull a fast one on them.

Right as they were about to land the finishing blow, the shadowy monstrosity reared up and shrieked a chilling cry that echoed through the forest. Before they could comprehend what it had done, the blunt end of an axe came flying out to strike the Hunter in the back of the head and send them stumbling away. That moment of distraction was enough for the Beast to quickly snatch up the heavy tool and slither away with a great rustling of dry leaves.

Though stunned, the Hunter still managed to trace the weapon’s trajectory back to a raggedy, male human who watched them warily. The human’s dour face sparked vague familiarity.

Before they could recall who he was, the Beast’s dark, undulating form swept up from behind the man, as if it were trying to shield itself behind such a comically small figure in comparison. It deposited the axe at the man’s feet, lowering its massive head to growl into his ear,

“Woodsman, I trust you can deal with this.”

The Woodsman stiffened, turning to glare at the Beast over his shoulder as he hissed, “What?? I am not—!”

“You would be lost without me!” The Beast snapped harshly at him, its glowing spotlight eyes pinning him in place, “Who else can guide you in fulfilling your duties? You know no one would dare lift a finger to help you.”

A flurry of emotions played over the man’s face at the Beast’s words, but the Hunter sensed that he mainly seemed to just be at a loss. They watched as the Woodsman’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he picked up the axe.

“…fine,” he replied sullenly.

“Good man,” the Beast said with an audible smirk, before diving down under the leaf litter and burrowing its way to freedom.

Seeing their quarry escaping, the Hunter scrambled back to their feet to give chase. Only to be immediately blocked by the Woodsman standing directly in their path. He regarded the Hunter with an uncertain frown, his axe raised in a defensive stance. Though he looked ready to fight, there wasn’t much conviction in his eyes.

The Hunter did not have time for this.

They moved to sidestep the Woodsman, but found their path once again blocked by the ragged man. They tried the Woodsman’s other side and got the exact same result. Growing increasingly annoyed, they moved to shove the obstacle aside when the Woodsman’s axe came swinging perilously close to their face, bringing them to a jarring halt.

“Stay behind the yellow line!” the man snapped.

On any other day, the Hunter would probably have been amused by the man’s sheer pluck. But today was not that day. Instead, the Hunter growled menacingly as they took several measured steps forwards, their bulky figure casting an imposing shadow as they loomed over the Woodsman.

“Get out. Of the way,” they gritted out.

The Woodsman stubbornly shook his head.

Lowering their sunglasses, the Hunter’s eerie red eyes glared down at him, “Not your battle. Move!”

But the much smaller human refused to be cowed. Instead, he grimly tightened his grip on his weapon, glaring back in defiance,

“I refuse.”

This was getting ridiculous.

“You are lost!” the Hunter snarled, their hands balled into fists, their words coming so fast their clumsy tongue could barely keep up, “You have. No place here! The way out. Is before you! Take it! Leave!”

For a split second, the Woodsman hesitated, uncertainty clear on his face, as if he was considering the possibility of just walking away. But it was quickly covered back up by the same stone-faced stoicism that blocked the Hunter’s path.

“It doesn’t matter if there is. I have a duty,” the tattered man told them, regret and determination warring in his eyes.

“A duty?” the Hunter scoffed incredulously. What was he talking about??

“To my family!” the Woodsman shot back with sudden vehemence, a spark of anger clear in his eyes. Raising both arms, he aimed the axe to point forward at the Hunter, his other arm extended to the side and pointing down. “And if you cannot understand that then I suggest you depart this station immediately.”

For a second, the Hunter considered simply launching a rope dart to smash through the Woodsman’s axe and barrel past him. But it was much too risky a maneuver.

The consequences were dire if rules were not obeyed.

Their only option was clear.

The Hunter retreated.

Before they disappeared into the shadows, they turned to face the Woodsman one last time. Their red eyes locked onto the man’s tired gray gaze as they darkly informed him:

“You are. Making. A mistake.”

They don’t wait for the Woodsman’s response. They simply swept away into the forest, their form blending into the shadows as the distant sound of the Beast’s smug chuckling followed them out.

It was only afterwards that the Hunter suddenly remembered who exactly the Woodsman was.

That particular human had always been something of an enigma. He was one of the first living things to be pulled in through their many experimental distortions. A man unwittingly dragged through space and time and dumped into the land of Hisui. They only were only aware of this fact because of the way their former accomplice furiously ranted about him. He had practically hounded the poor stranger for information. But the trip through the rift made the man forget everything beside his own name. To his accomplice’s seething disappointment, this faulty memory made the displaced human utterly useless.

But this Woodsman business had to be a much more recent event. Although with the Unknown’s variable passage of time, years could have passed for the Woodsman while only a day could have gone by for the Hunter or vice versa. In any case, it still presented a disturbing turn for the Hunter.

They frankly had no idea the Beast was even capable of manipulating another into its schemes. But it was already shameless in exploiting it to its own benefit. It too knew the rules, so it went and found itself the perfect meat shield. With the Woodsman between them, the Hunter was effectively stymied from taking out the Beast head-on. If the Hunter was ever to complete their quest, it meant that they had to get rid of the Woodsman. But direct confrontation was certain to only end in bloodshed and the voiding of their quest. They would have to find some other way to safely remove him from the equation.

But how?

The Hunter eyes their drink in idle thought.

What if they tricked the Woodsman into getting shitfaced drunk? It would certainly get him safely out of the way. And it would make for an entertaining sight while it lasted.

The idea makes the Hunter huff out a barely audible laugh at the absurdity.

No, that would obviously never work. The Woodsman is vigilant and cautious to a fault. And of course, he already sees the Hunter as a threat.

As they silently puzzle over the issue of the Woodsman, so deep are they in thought that they fail to realize they have caught the attention of another.

“Why, as I live and breathe! Uncle!”

The Hunter jerks sharply as a white flowing form plops down in the seat across from the Hunter. For a long painful moment, they stare blankly at the newcomer before they finally realize who they are dealing with. Bearing the guise of a dark-skinned, masculine human, the twin locks of flowing moon-white hair and a feathery, belted white dress gives him away.

“Nephew?” the Hunter’s underused voice rasps, surprised to even be recognized in their current form.

“Good to see you’re still skulking about. I was wondering if I’d get to see you here,” their nephew says airily.

(Technically, the term ‘nephew’ was a bit of a stretch. But it worked well enough amongst their kind. Similarly, ‘uncle’ was about as close as one could get to the truth considering the murky relations between Legends.)

However, the Hunter can’t help but find themself puzzled at their relative’s presence. With their usual stumbling words, they ask, “You are. Awake? Again?”

“I have been for a while now. There was some nonsense about a world domination plot that forcibly dragged myself and my sister out of our slumber,” their nephew grumbles with a roll of his eyes. Twirling a lock of white hair, he regards his uncle with a raised brow, “Funny, I believe it wasn’t long after you allegedly pulled some funny business on the mortal plane too.”

The Hunter blinks before shaking their head, uncertain as to what their nephew means.

“Hmm, perhaps you will explain yourself eventually,” their nephew concedes with a graceful shrug.

Much like the Hunter’s true home, this plane is nebulous even at the best of times. As a crossroads in reality, linear time and space become much looser in its grasp. Past, present, and future often meet in strange ways and the general etiquette among their kind is to simply gloss over any foreknowledge they might have. Likewise, it is better to simply ignore any whispers of said foreknowledge lest reality unravel itself. Yet again.

So instead, the Hunter asks, “Where is. Your sister?”

At this, the Hunter’s nephew sighs, not quite able to keep the concern out of his voice even as he gestures dismissively, “I’m afraid sister dearest is indisposed at the moment. She’s beside herself with worry. One of her Favored has gone missing. Vanished into the ether!” His flame blue eyes spark with menace as he leans in closer, “I’ve heard rumor of a Unovan’s scent floating about this place. If this is indeed who I am looking for, then I intend to bring him home for her.”

The Hunter takes a sip of their drink, eyeing their relative curiously, “You two. Getting along.”

He crosses his arms with an indignant huff, “I’ll have you know I’m not doing this exclusively for her sake. One of my Favored sorely misses this human as well,” their nephew corrects them, eyes blazing as they lean in close with a hiss, “Our Favored ones are not to be separated.”

The Hunter does not understand why that last detail matters. Instead, they rasp,

“Describe. This Favored. Been here. A long time. Might have seen them.”

Their nephew nods and easily obliges, “He’s quite distinct: a gray-haired male with silly sideburns shaped like knives, dresses mainly in black, and wears a hat bearing an insignia like this.” He raises a hand and draws in the air a fiery blue circle inset with white flames of a smaller circle overlapping an almost hourglass shape.

At the sight of the blue-and-white roundel, the Hunter’s eyes widen as they realize they know exactly who their nephew is referring to.

“…Ah,” they manage to intone.

The burning symbol blinks out of existence as narrowed blue eyes turn sharply to the Hunter, their nephew catching the scent of something in their reaction.

“What does that mean?” he demands.

The Hunter sighs and takes in a mouthful of burning drink. Might as well brace themself for a righteous verbal thrashing. There was no point in lying about this.

“Am afraid. This is. My fault,” they drag out of themself.

Their nephew glares coldly at them,

“Is it now.”

“Yes,” the Hunter rasps flatly, looking away in faint shame. “Would return him. But. Parent has left me… diminished.”

“Tch, serves you right, Uncle,” their nephew sneers. His chair scrapes back loudly as he rises to his feet in a great ruffle of feathers. With a flick of his hair, he snaps, “Just tell me where the human is and I’ll drag him back to Unova myself.”

But the Hunter holds up a hand and shakes their head.

“He will not leave. Without a fight. I tried,” they inform their nephew.

Blue eyes turn sharply to them, searing into them with barely restrained fury.

“Is that your doing as well?” their nephew spits accusingly.

The Hunter shakes their head with a quiet sigh, unable to keep out a tinge of frustration, “No. Beast has him. Cannot pry its grip.”

“You mean that foul shadow?” their nephew growls, glaring in the direction of the Unknown’s vast forests. He raises his lip in disgust, revealing a gleaming, white fang, “I can smell its lies even from here. It sickens me.”

A thoughtful look then crosses their nephew’s face as he leans against the table to point out, “You know, I could just take out the Beast for you. It’d save everyone some trouble—”

“NO!” the Hunter shouts in panic, their fist pounding the wooden table’s surface hard enough to crack one of its legs and launch their glass into air, which their shocked nephew catches before it can break.

The entire saloon comes to a dead stop as everyone turns to stare at them.

The Hunter has the courtesy to mutter a quick embarrassed apology, their dark face looking a bit redder than before. They toss out a few crumpled bills to hopefully cover the cost of repairs.

Satisfied that no more outbursts are forthcoming, the rest of the saloon turns back to their business of ignoring everything else.

Still a bit stunned, their nephew sits back down, considers the amber liquid within their glass, and downs the rest of it. As he savors the burn, he sighs with a small puff of fire.

“Not bad,” he comments. Staring dead into the Hunter’s eyes, he huffs, “Consider that your apology. I was only offering to help.”

The Hunter shakes their head and insists to him, “No. This is. My task. Have to do it. Myself.”

“If you insist,” their nephew grouses, crossing his feathery arms. “Then if the Beast is reserved for you only, how am I to deal with Ingo?”

The Hunter blinks in confusion at the name, “Who is. Ingo?”

“The human I’m looking for,” their nephew says simply, “Ingo Stoker. That’s his name.”

That was news to the Hunter, “Only know him as. The Woodsman.”

“Weird, but whatever,” their nephew says dismissively as a new thought occurs to them. “Perhaps I could just speak to him. I imagine he would listen to me at least. I am the paragon of Truth, surely he will recognize that,” he suggested, his dress fluffing slightly with pride.

Again the Hunter shakes their head, “He is. Blinded by responsibility. Misguided loyalty.” They pause in thought before adding, “Also maybe amnesia.”

Their nephew rolls their eyes. “Tch, my sister’s Favor of him is making more sense by the sec— what do you mean amnesia??” he sputters.

“Apparently. Does not remember much. Before being dropped here,” they shrug.

Their nephew pinches the bridge of his nose in mounting aggravation, “It’s just one thing after another with this guy…” Collecting himself, he squares his shoulders to ask, “Can he be swayed by any other means? Surely there is something that can convince him to abandon this fool’s errand.”

The two descend into a thoughtful silence as they rack their brains over their understanding of the human psyche. What typically motivates humans? Money? Power? Love? Grief? Rare Pokémon?

What is at the core of the Woodsman’s actions?

Then the man’s defiant shout of ‘To my family!’ rings clear as day in the Hunter’s mind.

The idea forms instantly.

“Perhaps. We can help. Each other,” the Hunter rasps as they lean forwards.

Something must show on their face, for their nephew leans in with keen interest.

“I’m listening,” he says slowly, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“You said. Your Favored. Was searching too?” the Hunter asked.

“Aye,” their nephew replies, raising a pale brow, “He wants his twin back. I can understand that feeling…”

The Hunter thinks carefully.

“Send your Favored here,” they say point blank.

They’re not sure how their nephew will take to the idea, risking a human he was deeply invested in by sending them to a place as unpredictable and dangerous as this. But this might be their best shot at safely removing the Woodsman from the Beast’s grasp.

Their nephew tilts their head skeptically, but he catches onto their thoughts quickly, “You believe he can convince his brother to leave?”

“Best option,” the Hunter says. “The Woodsman. May leave on his own. But it is. A big maybe. He needs. A push. A catalyst.”

For a long moment, their nephew silently considers their uncle’s proposal. They can see the gears turning in his head as he calculates the feasibility of such a plan.

“That… might be worth a try. I’ll see what I can do…” their nephew finally answers slowly. He taps his chin as he walks away, deep in thought as he faintly mutters, “I believe I have a few favors I can call in…”

As their nephew exits the saloon, the Hunter looks down at their empty glass. For a second, they consider ordering another to make up for their nephew’s pilfering. Instead, they push the glass aside as they rise to their feet.

If this is going to work, they need a clear head. There will be many moving parts to consider: people and Pokémon that need to be nudged into place, scenarios that have to be accounted for, and choices to be predicted.

While the Hunter prefers brute forcing solutions to their problems, it clearly has not been working here. No matter how adept or strong they become in this form, the Beast will always pull some new trick on them.

Perhaps it was time to take a page out of its book and get clever…

Part 10

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon black and white #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #under the city streets au #giratina #reshiram #submas #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #woodsman ingo #subway boss emmet #coramatus’s writing #tw: alcohol

29 notes · View notes

riveramorylunar · 1 year

Note

The pit’s fire was all the warmth Y/N needed that night. It was bright enough to scare the darkness away and what could bother to hide in it.

Its fire that it held in stone and dying wood, would bring life to her face. The defined features feeling the graze of its heat as it speckled its spotlight on her and her crew of four.

It was just the small group of friends that invited the girl to go camping with them.

A particular blonde would be the reason for that though. “So, Y/N, we normally don’t see you a lot lately. It’s like you’ve become a hermit.”

Steve Rogers would say with a small awkward smile as he sat next to you in his blue and red camping chair that would squeak every so often when he moved. “Oh-, it’s just because of homework and other school stuff you know? It’s been keeping me busy and stuck up in my room.”

Y/N replied to her classmate and friend while waving a small hand gesture as she talked.

“And, um- well you know finals too! Things need to be turned in and graded before the due date because you know… um- graduation.”

She said partially lying. She actually was trying to get things turned in so her grades looked as nice as a straight line of hammered nails in a block of wood. But to be more truthful, she was mostly binge watching horror movies all over again. Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street, all the Halloween movies, Trick or Treat, all the old classics!

“Huh, you could have just done a study group with us.”

He would simply say while gesturing to Bucky, Natasha and Wanda who were just having a conversation until his words interrupted them causing the spotlight to be on the girl who was just trying to enjoy the night without disturbance.

“Well—“

Y/N dragged the “L” in her one worded speech as she scratched the back of her neck while avoiding the glances.

“Steve, leave her alone. She probably wanted privacy from your chattering mouth.”

Bucky interrupted with a small smirk as his comment made Steve’s ears as red as an elf’s.

“Do I really chatter that much?”

Steve asked while leaning back in his seat causing another squeak to be heard. That thing was too old, like him, himself but in the mind. “Yes.” Was the simple answer that spewed out of everyone’s mouth. “Roger, not to be rude but sometimes when we’re studying you’ll mumble for hours on how we should be on task and how important this project is without even starting it.”

Natasha spoke while crossing her legs to eat a Marshmallow that was almost burnt to the crisp, but in her words. “It was better that way, crisp outside and gooey inside is the way to go.” Her words repeated in Y/N’s head for a second from earlier.

As her mind was having a small relapse. Her closed off brain would return once it heard bloody murder but it was just Wanda when she looked up quickly. Natasha had flung a small leaf that resembled a dead bug at her. The laughter in the air was intoxicating and she would soon suck it all in too causing a small laugh to escape her lips that played a small smile at Wanda. She was her horror buddy and from her looks she gave Y/N earlier would say she probably already knew what she was doing the entire time up in her room which is honestly understandable because a small horror break isn’t a bad thing. She just wished Y/N invited her along, which will cause a long conversation in the car once the group starts to head back tomorrow in the morning. “Okay- okay, I’m sorry Nat!”

Wanda said with laughter being her oxygen now.

“Do not steal my marshmallow again!”

Natasha said with a pout playing on her face that made it more funny. “It’s not my fault you have to make such good marshmallows-“

Which was a lie because Y/N clearly remembered how Wanda had a small fight with Natasha on what was the proper way to cook with marshmallows for a food drive when they were making small sweet desserts. While the argument began, Y/N would hear something behind her... It was only the wind she thought, but the heavy breathing didn’t sound like the screeching wind. Gloved hands would grab at her shoulders which caused her to scream from her throat like a rooster at day. The laughter for Wanda soon became Y/N’s as Steve let go of her shoulders and took off the bloody hockey mask.

“And I thought you weren’t afraid of scary things-“

Steve’s chuckle caught in every word as he sat back down causing another damn squeak. “Ya, I’m not when it’s in movies, jackass.”

She said while punching his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you brought that damn mask.”

Bucky said while glancing back at him. “It was for the scare but you know how I like to get when I tell stories. Especially scary ones.”

Steve said while scraping his fingertips against the rough markings of the “old mask” he probably bought from the dollar store. Bucky never liked scary things for a guy like him which was completely fine. It was just shocking kinda from how he dressed and acted but there’s a surprise to everyone. “Well, since you brought it. Go on and tell the tale of the poor girl who died here.”

Wanda said while sitting up to have her full attention on Steve as he was the best to tell these types of things. “Well perfect timing, I need to go take a piss so I’m out of here.”

Bucky announced while standing up, the fire making it easier to see his fake arm. “Gross, you don’t have to announce it every single time whenever you need to take a piss Bucky.”

Nat said with a cringe expression that strained over her pale face. “Well I’m sorry, I’ll go use the “powder” room.”

He mocked as there was no bathroom unless you wanted to walk far to the community one, which no one wanted to do at this time, this dark.

Y/N rolled her eyes at them before nudging Steve to continue. “Go on, I want to hear this one.”

She said while sitting up a little straighter.

“Well, we all know the well known fact that this place used to be an old boot camp, that’s why you can find so many old cabins and obstacle courses.

It’s said a girl was dropped off here by her father on the first day of summer. Her name was Maria and was said to be the only girl there causing her to be toyed with by the boys. She shocked most of them on what she could do and how much strength she already had, but that didn’t stop some from picking on her.”

He explained while he lifted the mask up to rest against his chin. “They would push her in mud, pick fights with her, frame her about things that she didn’t do. All the high school bully shit one could go through. They tried to make it hell for Maria at the point she would leave, but she couldn’t.”

Steve said while gesturing with his broad hands that waved in the cool air around them. “It was seven weeks stuck at the boot camp when they were practicing with real grenades for the training course that week. Grant, one of the kids at the boot camp, would invite her towards the lake with a small group of friends he had. Of course she wouldn’t oblige until he mocked her, calling her a coward. With a sharp glare she would follow him to prove what he said was wrong. When they made it they managed to gather extra grenades somehow. They would be throwing them in the big lake to create giant explosions of water that were too far for any superior officer to hear or notice. Grant would give Maria a grenade and invited her to throw one. She didn’t like the waste in supplies and she could tell it was a waste of fish too as she saw the corpses of scales and fish eyes in the gloomy water. Without her knowledge, Grant gave her one without the pin. As she held it she was about to give it back to him before all of sudden the boy pushed her in the lake. The bomb exploded as she hit the water!”

He would say loudly as he stood up for a dramatic effect. As if on queue, a loud snap in the trees would alert the three. “That was probably Bucky coming back, or just an animal.”

Wanda would say with a small chuckle as she combed her hand through her long hair. They would go back to the haunting tale, but Y/N’s eyes lingered in the darkness, hoping something would reveal itself but nothing did. Probably a bird… she thought.

“Anyway- heh Um.. she was said to have died from drowning in the water, but it’s said a lightning strike is what brought her back to life as it flowed through the lake’s body.

Pulling herself out of the lake she would have lost part of her hand, face, she was atrocious to look at! Walking back with more strength than a bear she would break through the cabin doors and revenge herself by killing Grant and his friends…

It’s said she covers her face with a hockey mask that Grant had as a trophy, but others say it’s a reminder of that night.

It’s said if you visit here, you have a chance to find her roaming the old camp grounds, waiting for her father to return and to chase anyone who stays…”

Steve said while placing the mask on his face.

“Okay this story is kinda bulshit- Where did the lighting strike come from all of sudden? how did it bring her back to life?”

Natasha spoke as she leaned back into her red camping chair.

“I don’t know, it was just a part of the story when I was told it.”

Steve explained while Y/N rolled her eyes. “Clearly you never read Frankenstein.”

She said, making Wanda snicker a little.

As they all spoke they would hear footsteps following along branches and leaves that covered the pathway.

“Finally Bucky, how long does it-“

Wanda’s words were interrupted by a plastic arm being thrown in the middle of the group, landing in the fire. If you looked closely enough they could see the specks of red dripping from its melting surface. “Holy fucking shit- Bucky are you insane?!”

Nat would spew words out fast as she stood up looking behind her. She wasn’t met with Bucky’s eyes, different blue irises would stare back- but she wouldn’t know that for now until the figure grew closer. As their footsteps grew louder, their stances would be more frozen in place. A dark mask, weathered and old would show itself in the tinted lighting of orange from the fire. “Ohh- good prank guys! Come on Steve tell Bucky to quit it.”

Nat spoke with some sarcasm as Wanda stepped back a little. “N-Nat, that’s not Bucky!”

Steve yelled but his warning was too late. A hammer would smash against her body’s ribcage. The feeling of her bones crunching and shattering in her would let a scream out through her throat and coughs that burned without a breath of air in between.

Natasha’s body fell in front of them against the dirt ground. One hit wasn’t enough as the steel block beated the body until the squirms and gasping was over like a bug being squished.

As the killer of Natasha was standing back to their full height, Steve would force himself on them. Pushing them to the ground as his hand reached for the hammer. “Run, …Run!”

His words loud and heavy as Y/N and Wanda ran into the forest without a thought on her mind as it was already filled and intoxicated with confusion and fear that crawled among their skin. Y/N could hear the blonde’s screams from afar as the beating of steel and flesh meat would echo to ears that were blocked by palms to hide away from the horrific noise. As they ran Wanda’s eyes would widen and reflect the hanging Bucky against tree branches. The murder scenes from horror movies didn’t prepare her eyes to see the unrecognizable body of her friend.

Y/N would pull the frozen Wanda along by her wrist until the heavy breathing of a woman would come closer. Calloused hands gripping the wrist of the brunette would force a whimper out of her lips as they pulled her closer to them harshly. If it wasn’t for the killer’s strength, Wanda would have had a chance at running away if it hadn’t for the harsh pull of her arm that yanked the humérus from its socket. The yank would force her face into the bloody hammer.

The sprinkle of blood sprayed against Y/N’s face lightly caused a sickness to dawn on her and a feeling that made her mouth gape open but nothing would come out but noises of squeaks and words that couldn’t escape her vocals completely. Y/N’s hands covering her face as if it was to hide and be safe, to not see the dull eyes that were hooded through the creases of a mask she could barely see from the darkness. Y/N could hear the breathing, but couldn't feel the heat of a body that would normally radiate off of someone. But it was only a guess and a need to be safe that she swung her fists towards the tall being. Eyes still closed she would hear a small grunt and groan before the sound of an object hit the dirt ground that crackled dying leaves.

E/C eyes would meet the face that flourished at moonlight. Only a small examination would tell her the anger that she felt around this woman she saw. Even if a third of her face was blown off and the rest scarred wouldn’t stop her from seeing the clenched jaw and the creased brow that hung above the eye. It came to realization that this… was Maria from the boot camp tale.

As it finally strikes Y/N’s head she would be pushed against a tree’s bark that pierced her back through thin fabric.

“I’m going to murder you.”

The heavy breath that followed along with words that rasped out of cut lips and clenched teeth. The heaving body in front of her was like an animal’s.

The shock of this reveal was too overwhelming for the body as Y/N couldn’t utter a word out, and if she tried it would only be a cry that would be barely auditable. Maria would drop her hammer to the ground and grab the woman by her neck to rise from the soil and beat her back against the tree harshly one more time. As bony hands choke Y/N out of oxygen that her lungs died to inhale, so would her vision as it became a blur of tears and how light headed she became. Y/N’s hands would give a fighting chance and scratch at the muscled arms and hands but her nails digging into spoiled skin wouldn’t harm or disturb this psychopath.

But she wasn’t strong enough, and the loss of air didn’t help much either. Her hands giving out and only settling against the wrists of Maria.

Sight becoming vivid, would make the killer’s face a blur, only recognizing those glacier eyes before it became a blank canvas.

When Maria noticed the squirming stopped she would have dropped her body on the crud, grassy ground. Leaving a light thump to be heard.

“Jesus…”

Maria muttered through her lips as she held Y/N’s figure close to her body beneath the blankets on the couch. Her eyes would squint at the scenes being performed before her. She wasn’t really scared but rather disturbed by how violent someone could create a character. “What, scared you?”

Y/N asked with a cocky grin as she leaned her head up to see her girlfriend. “No- not at all- just surprised. It’s not like those other movies we watched. It’s more graphic.”

“Ya.That's why this one is a yes and no for me.

Hey- you know what it’s almost Halloweennn, you could dress up as her!”

Y/N spoke with a smile towards Maria only causing her to chuckle and shake her head. “Hmph, no way in hell.”

“Come on.. please?”

Y/N only needed to ask once with her pleading eyes. It made Maria chuckle and sigh. “Fine- fine, you win Princess.”

Her response made her girlfriend’s eyes become stars as she started to fan over the idea of Maria dressing up as a horror character. “Yesss, it would be perfect! You look so much like her too.”

Y/N would explain excitedly as Maria placed an arm over her shoulder on the couch. Her glacier eyes would slowly glance back at the hammer that was kicked under the small night table’s wooden figure that displayed itself near the front door.

“Ya… I would.”

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!

This was absolutely amazing 😩🤌 I swear I couldn't stop smiling and giggling. Absolutely insane!!! I love it so much thank you thank you thank you for sharing this awesome piece of work 🥹🙏

Serial Killer Maria Hill might be my new favorite Maria Hill variant thanks to you buddy!!

#Maria Hill x Reader #Maria Hill #Agent Hill #Mar Mar My Baby💙🖤#Serial Killer Maria Hill #MCU #river talks to anons 🤗

25 notes · View notes