#(you can see and sort of hear it jump at the first “i'll tell you my sins”)
Note
Hihihi! Could I please request a royalty/nobility au with the housewardens? Like them as a dashing Mr. Darcy, if that makes sense.
So, since this is pretty open ended, I'm just going with headcanons on what sort of role they'd have in this au. Though it might be more like an otome au? But if you like it, or want to see more, please don't hesitate to ask!
Royalty AU - The Housewardens
You are the only heir to the throne, and now, you've been given a "simple" task. Find someone to marry before the year is over! Your butler clears his throat, and names some of your potential suitors...
Riddle - The Marquess' Son
-Riddle is the sole child of Marquess and Marchioness Rosehearts. His family is well known for funding medical research, and they're generally well respected. At least, publicly. In private, many nobles whisper about the cruelty of Marchioness Rosehearts, and Riddle's overbearing strictness. Your butler also states that, when your parents announced your eligibility for marriage, she was the very first to put her son's name forward. It makes you think that Riddle had no say in being a candidate.
-Riddle himself is rumored to be at odds with his family, considering his friendship with the local baker, Trey Clover, and other commoners. His mother has publicly denounced the idea that her family mingles with the lower classes, but Riddle continues to be spotted around the bakery regardless. It makes you wonder if he's not quite as strict as the rumors claim...
Leona - The Second Prince
-Leona is the second born prince of a neighboring country. His brother, King Falena, has maintained his country's status quo, but it's becoming rather obvious that Leona doesn't approve of his family's excessive lifestyle while their kingdom's poorest starve. Supposedly, Falena is growing increasingly desperate to marry Leona off to a foreigner so he can be removed from Sunset Savannah's political sphere. Leona's own people talk about him being a lazy, power hungry rebel, and this gives you pause. You haven't heard a single positive thing yet. There must be more to the man than this...
-Your butler goes on to mention that this is merely what your country's spies have found out. According to official correspondence, Leona is a laid back man with a handsome appearance, and a sharp intellect. The sheer difference in those descriptions startles you, and makes you wonder. Who exactly is Prince Leona?
Azul - The Information Broker
-Azul Ashengrotto is the head of the country's biggest information guild. Hiring his Octavinelle Agency is the best way to dig up dirt on anybody, and no one knows just how he acquires that much intelligence. Your parents have listed him as a potential candidate in the hopes that, should you marry him, he would give you access to the wealth of information he has at his fingertips. According to rumors, you must give him something of equal exchange for anything he tells you. You frown as you hear about people selling things like their voices, and their magic to him. He can't be that cruel. Right?
-According to people who have made deals with him, he has a taste for the finer things in life. He'd certainly jump at the opportunity to court you, as you are the heir to the throne. Before your butler can finish, a strange man enters the room. His mismatched eyes gleam as he hands you a letter, stamped with the Octavinelle Agency insignia. The letter is simple, but it sends a chill up your spine. "Your Highness, if you are considering marriage, then please come by my agency. I can tell you anything you wish to know about your suitors, and I'll even waive my usual fees. The only thing I ask in return is for your company. Signed, Azul Ashengrotto." Before you can question the man, he slips out of the parlor. How peculiar...
Kalim - The Merchant Prince
-Your butler clears his throat, and moves on. Next on the list is Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the Al-Asim Trade Company. Merchants under their banner travel far and wide, bringing wondrous things that many people have never seen before. In his country, rich merchants practically become royalty, and Kalim's family is the wealthiest of those families. If you choose him, it will invigorate your country's economy, and your parents approve of this. Also, according to the people who have seen him, he's cheerful and compassionate.
-However, your butler warns that his family has a dark side. In the Scalding Sands, poison is the weapon of choice, and Kalim's life has likely been threatened numerous times. And that his own siblings and cousins are likely his biggest enemies. If you married him, you'd be subjected to the same treatment. You'd constantly have to watch your back, and worry that every sip of wine would be your last. Is that truly a life you wish to lead?
Vil - The Duke
-Vil Schoenheit is the youngest Duke to grace your country's nobility. He's also the fairest. Countless numbers of men and women fawn over his beauty, yet he has rejected every advance that has come his way. This had led to nasty rumors that he has impossible standards, and that his heart must be made of ice. He apparently also has a keen mind, though there are some whispers that he uses that intellect to brew deadly poisons. Who those poisons are meant for, nobody knows.
-His dukedom also contains some of your country's most beautiful locations. Lush forests and thriving apple orchards span his lands, and his people prosper under his rule. However, people do wonder why all of his citizens seem to be good looking, and why nobody seems to oppose him. Is it just a coincidence, or is there a darker reason behind his seemingly perfect dukedom?
Idia - The Inventor
-Idia Shroud is, without a doubt, one of the smartest men in your kingdom. However, his reputation, and several rumors, precede him. He's known for being extremely reclusive, and he's almost never been seen in public. Instead, he trusts an automaton, Ortho, to complete various tasks. And the few times he has been spotted sparked a frenzy of strange rumors. There's talk around the capital that he's been cursed, marked by unholy fire. Your brows furrow. Is he truly one of the candidates for your hand in marriage?
-Aside from the rumors that swirl around him, he's genuinely skilled. Ortho is a completely sentient automaton, and several of his other inventions have changed the average citizen's quality of life for the better. He's the reason your kingdom is more advanced than any other, and that counts for a lot. He's a bit bizarre, but rumors about his supposed "curse" stirs your curiosity.
Malleus - The Briar King
-Your butler shivers, and mentions King Malleus in a hushed tone. He is the King of Briar Valley, a strange land that nobody has ever actually seen. There are old tales about his kingdom. Stories that state that the land is populated by the fae, and that their king is not truly a fae, but a fearsome dragon. These tales claim that any being who opposes the Briar King will be incinerated in a plume of dragon fire, and that he demands complete loyalty from his subjects. As you begin to wonder why your parents would give you such an option, you get your answer. For the first time, Malleus has left his kingdom, and is visiting yours. This might be your kingdom's only chance to forge an alliance with the powerful, mysterious fae.
-There is a bit more information than just wild tales. According to your butler, an odd fae visited the castle yesterday, and told your parents a bit more about Malleus. This fae stated that his king was not quite as intimidating as the stories claim, and that Malleus yearned for companionship more than anything else. Your gaze softened. You, as the heir to a kingdom, knew that a royal life could be a lonely one. If he also felt the ache of solitude, then, he surely couldn't be a monster, like the people say.
Now that you've heard about your potential suitors, only one question remains...
Who will you choose?
#royalty au#riddle rosehearts#riddle x reader#leona kingscholar#leona x reader#azul ashengrotto#azul x reader#kalim al asim#kalim x reader#vil schoenheit#vil x reader#idia shroud#idia x reader#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#twisted wonderland#twst reader insert#twst x reader
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Something to Fight For (Epilogue) Dad!Joel x f!Reader
Something to Fight For: Epilogue
Warnings: Tooth-rottingly sweet epilogue.
Words: 5.3
a/n: I dragged y’all through angsty hell and I PROMISED I would deliver a happy ending and imo it don’t get much happier than this! Now, if you're sad this is over I understand. Nice thing is, I got vignettes happening featuring the characters in this story. Some of 'em sweet, some spicy, some funny. I can't say goodbye to these characters or this world quite yet. So I'm not gonna. And if you want, you're always welcome to request a scene you'd like to see in the comments! I love hearing what you want to see! And I got heaps of other writing, but if you like this sweeter sort I recommend: “Bravo! Take a Bow” and “Losing our Minds Together”
I thank every single one of you out there that read this story and left a review because it really feels like we built a community here in the comment section. I'm gonna miss seein' y'all here. Hopefully you stick around while I keep writing, but if not I am so glad we could share this online moment together. Thank you for making this fanfic author a happy gal. I'm gettin' choked up here so I'll stop and we can get on to seeing our sweet idiots in love.
Oh and please review, reblog, etc cuz it makes me smile.
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You walk into life on Rancher Street as naturally as if you've always been a fixture there. You think this is borne from a routine the three of you slipped into without thinking.
Mornings are coffee and cereal (Joel's banana pancakes on the weekends), then it's getting ready, brushing Sarah's hair, packing leftovers into cartoon lunch bags (for Sarah) and brown paper bags (for you and Joel).
You're dropped off first; your work is on the way to the school. Its kisses for both of their sweet smiling faces and then you're thrust into the world of animal rescue. Joel drives Sarah to school next, holding her hand until they reach her classroom where he kisses her forehead and tells her to "learn lots" before handing her off to her new first grade teacher.
He drives to Tommy at whatever site they're working at. The days are long, but punctuated with texts from you. Most are funny, some sweet. Occasionally Joel tries to write back but when he really wants to interact with you he just excuses himself and calls you. Hearing your voice always makes him smile in that dreamy, crooked way that has Tommy giving him shit the rest of the day.
At five promptly Joel returns to pick you up with Sarah buckled in her car seat smiling up at you. His heart jumps every time you come through the door, eyes bright and smiling as you jog over. He holds back the urge to kiss you senseless, restraining you both to a quick peck and then drives his girls home.
Dinner is done by Joel unless you've offered (which you rarely do because cooking is a drag). Instead you help Sarah set the table and the meal is spent listening to Sarah talk about her day and the animals that you’ve helped to rescue.
After dinner Sarah goes to play with her toys or watch a DVD while you tidy up. Joel sits with his coffee in his favorite green mug at the counter, eyes on you and chatting as you do the dishes. He always tries to help at first but you always remind him that he did the cooking and that you want to keep things fair.
This is when you both talk about everything and anything. Work, movies you want to see, plans for the weekend, philosophical questions (you've both decided that you'd rather fight one horse sized duck versus a thousand duck sized horses, for example). Joel is hard to get information out of. He isn't used to talking about himself, but you urge him to do so. He thinks his job is boring but you're fascinated by controlling clients and his keen mind when problem solving an issue at a job site.
Sometimes Sarah turns the volume of the TV up really high during these times and Joel has to yell over the noise at her to turn it down, smiling and shaking his head. It's one of your favorite parts about being here. There's always noise in the background, either a television or laughter. Your home had been so quiet, so empty, you'd just never realized
The other favorite part is how Joel always finds ways to touch you. Subtle things like a hand trailing over your lower back as you wash the dishes, nestling his shoulder against yours as you watch television together, laughing and hip checking you gently as he passes you in the hallway.
The only thing not perfect (at least for Joel) is the odd evening when you leave to go back to Maria's basement suite. He doesn't call the old suite your home because as far as he's concerned this is your home.
His stomach always drops when he sees you've gathered your purse in your hands, ready to leave. Joel usually walks you to your car, but some nights he stops you both at the front door, bringing you into his arms and kissing you deeply.
"I should go Joel," you tell him as he holds you, his mouth moving from your lips to your jaw, kissing that spot behind your ear that has you whimpering and your legs buckling. "Still have stuff there."
"Please stay," Joel murmurs against your mouth, hands wrapped around your waist as he presses into you against the wall. "Just a little longer."
Sometimes (often) this works. Your resolve breaks under his sweet mouth and hands and on these nights you wrap your legs around his waist and allow him to carry you back to the bedroom.
These nights he spends hours making love to you until you're too exhausted to leave. These nights Joel likes best because you linger in his arms and in his bed until the morning, the scent of your perfume on his pillow and sheets until you return that evening.
"Love having you here," Joel sleepily murmurs into your hair, kissing you awake one morning. "When are you just gonna move in?"
Still half asleep in his bed you stretch, snuggling up against him and sighing into the crook of his neck. "Whenever you want, baby."
Joel wants you there all the time. He wants Sarah to know that you're there; he doesn't want to hide you. But you're tentative, nervous that this all feels too good too fast. You ask that Sarah not know that you're spending the night, not just yet. She knows that you’re daddy’s girlfriend, but that’s all you want her to know right now.
You pretend to arrive in the mornings, making a show of ringing the doorbell and smirking as Joel welcomes you in, his eyes amused.
Despite the occasional seduction, Joel understands and he lets you go at your own pace. He agrees to what makes you feel comfortable.
But he loves when you arrive with a new cardboard box of your stuff from Maria's. He sees the blush across your cheek as he excitedly takes it from you, asking where this one will go. Most of its clothes and those boxes are promptly brought to the bedroom and unpacked into the closet. Seeing your blouses hung next to his button ups makes him feel good.
Week by week more of your things are brought over until one day there's nothing left for you at Maria's except for your bed, dresser and sofa. You tell him as much over a late night snack of chocolate pudding after Sarah has been put to bed.
"Pretty much everything I need is here."
Joel makes note of this, his heart hammering in his chest as he reaches into one of the drawers and pulls out the key he got cut.
“You’ll need this, then.”
He slides it across the counter with his forefinger, his eyes not leaving your face as he does. He sees the surprise there, the widening of your eyes.
"You have a lot of keys to your house just lying around?" You joke, feeling your heart race.
"Nah, got this one cut the day after the wedding," Joel murmurs. "Thought you'd need it sooner or later."
He loves seeing you blush, especially when you do that shy smile of yours.
When you look uncertain later that night in bed next to him, fingers twisting together anxiously Joel notices, lowering his book to glance at you.
"What's wrong?"
"Are you really okay with me moving in here?" You ask with a furrowed brow. "It's not too soon?"
Joel's mouth over yours is all the answer you need. But he's so delighted by your potential move in that he'd already launched into an outline of what to do with your furniture.
"We could sell your sofa and bed. I know a guy who needs a sofa. Only 'cuz my stuff is bigger and already here, but I don't want you feelin' like this isn't your house too so maybe we should-"
Kissing is the second best way to stop Joel Miller from rambling. The first is climbing on top of him and urging him inside of you, languidly bringing you both to orgasm.
You do both just to be safe.
The things left at Paul's had been clothing and a few personal items. You considered leaving it, but decide in the end that you shouldn't have to.
Your small pile of cardboard boxes are left outside his old apartment. He's sure not to be in said apartment when Joel goes with you to retrieve them.
You'd ridden over in Joel's truck, the day punctuated by an unexpected silence with Joel's protective hand over your knee. He'd loaded the boxes alongside you, his face tight. With every box retrieved from Paul's place Joel grew more and more miserable.
He hadn't responded to your gentle teasing as you both worked, had turned down your idea of going out for lunch, and had been all over a grumpy bastard.
When you'd loaded everything and were driving home Joel's hand had flown back to your knee, grip just as tight as before. When you finally questioned him about his bizarre behavior his dark eyes had been hard.
"The boxes and Paul," Joel winces, eyes fixed on the road. "Just reminded me how close I was to losin' you."
You make him pull over right then and there so you can crawl into his lap and kiss him senseless. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you so tightly to him you feel breathless.
"You'll never lose me, Joel," you whisper against his neck. "Never."
When you make love that evening your fingers linger on his cheeks as you stare into his eyes and the words you whisper as he fills you are of the love you have for him, the longing for this life you held for so long within you.
As you both begin to drift off, tangled together under the sheets you press a kiss to that patch in his beard that doesn't quite grow.
"I'm not going anywhere, Joel. I'm done running."
///
You miss having an office space like your studio had. A little area for just you to organize your thoughts and work. But it's a small price to pay because you like existing on Rancher Street. You've enjoyed every day of the last three months.
It feels like home when you're there and not because of the structure but the two figures inside. Home isn't a place, you've come to realize, its people. Joel and Sarah.
Evening rituals are the same as when you babysat. Picking out books as Sarah slips into bed smelling of toothpaste and the hair cream Joel massages into the curls under her favorite purple bonnet. You smiling at her while she snuggles down under the covers, propping toad up next to her so he can see the pictures in the books.
"Okay we're ready."
The only difference is that Joel is there too, bending down to kiss his daughter's cheek and murmuring a low "G'night babygirl. Sweet dreams. Love you."
She gives him a sweet 'I love you' back, kissing his lightly bearded cheek. If Joel takes too long to leave, getting distracted by the sight of you gathering books or just wanting to linger, Sarah is prone to shooting him a silent look that communicates: okay, I love you dad, now please leave.
He always does. Because reading before bed is your special time, just the two of you. Joel used to do it on the nights you weren't there, but now you are there every single night his services are no longer necessary.
Joel's qualities are better served in the kitchen, you and Sarah decide as you watch her drawing on the sidewalk with the chalk you've just bought.
"Daddy's a better cook than you."
She says it thoughtfully and without malice as she draws a lopsided flower.
"Yes," you agree with a nod, making a star pattern nearby. "Much better. I think he puts love in his food. I just use salt."
But the ever empathetic Sarah is quick to point out your many virtues as well. The main one of course being your stellar reading ability and your stories in general.
So every single night Joel stands there outside Sarah's room, arms folded and shoulder tilted against the hallway wall, his cheek facing the half closed door of his daughter.
There he listens to the two of you giggling or you reading the book Sarah has picked from your pile (Sarah's right, you're very good at doing the voices), the gentle murmurs of 'I love you" thrown back between you two and those sounds wind around Joel's heart in a way he never knew just sounds could.
He's so fucking happy.
And when you finally creep out, quietly closing the door behind you and shooting him a pleased smile, Joel is always there to grip you by the hand and drag you to your shared bedroom down the hall.
Rarely do the two of you make it to the bed with all your clothes on because Joel has many virtues outside of the kitchen as well.
///
Joel watches you give a frustrated sigh, frowning at the laptop on the kitchen table before putting your face in your hands.
"Everything okay?"
"Just this fu- darn sanctuary project," you self correct, remembering a listening Sarah sitting across from you.
Sarah has a piece of paper she has drawn to look like a laptop and she pretends to clack away on it when you do on yours. Joel sits next to you, his knee brushing yours as you complain.
"Alex's contact said she could get the supplies at cost and he was supposed to get back to me but he hasn't and now the landscaping guy is saying -" you pause, realizing Joel's eyes have taken on a dreamy, faraway look. “-And you're not even listening to me, are you Miller?"
He gives you a guilty look. "Nope."
You give a sharp laugh at his honesty, leaning over and shoving his shoulder with yours affectionately.
"Hey, I really wanna show you somethin'," Joel says with a hint of excitement in his dark brown eyes, a window into the boy he must have been. "C'mon. Both of you."
You follow him down the steps to the basement, to Tommy's old place, your hand wrapped around Sarah's. You both follow him towards the large door separating the areas, watching his broad shouldered walk, the excitement in his rapid footsteps.
At the door there he spins with a small anticipatory smile on his handsome face.
"I thought this would be a good place to have for an office," Joel explains shyly pointing to the door behind him.
You smile up at him, delighted that he thought of you needing one. He pushes open the door for you, his eyes on your face as he does.
Balloons.
Hundreds of colorful balloons take up almost the entire main room of the basement.
Sarah doesn't wait for you, she runs in headfirst giggling and shrieking, her arms open wide.
You walk into the basement in a daze, your eyes owlish as you take in this prism of color, feeling the balloons brush your skin, the awe-inspiring sensation of being surrounded in a rainbow. You laugh, it bursts from you.
You can see that the space beyond the balloons has been transformed into an office, complete with built in bookcases and a custom desk under the window. You trace a hand along the desk before being swept up in the color of the balloons and Sarah's contagious laughter.
Joel is standing there just outside the door, his eyes bright as he watches the two loves of his life laughing and tossing up the colorful balloons.
Sarah kicks at them with vigor, her head thrown back in laughter at the squeaks they emit when knocked about.
Joel looks to you, expecting the same behavior and pausing when he sees how you're now standing there looking at him with damp eyes. The balloons float between you, falling to block his eyes as you approach.
"Joel."
"Mmm?"
"Get in here," you order gently, your finger curling around his collar as you gently tug him in encouragement. You can't move him of course, but he grins widely, nodding and stepping into the color with you.
For a moment neither of you speaks. All you can see is Joel and the balloons that seem to surround you on all sides, the colors framing his beautiful face. You can hear Sarah's distant laughter.
Then Joel smiles in that sweet, open way of his. You look down when you feel his hand taking yours and see a diamond ring being slipped onto your fourth finger. You stare at it in amazement before your gaze meets his. In his deep brown eyes you see a future so beautiful you never could have imagined it. What you don’t know is that when Joel looks into your eyes he sees exactly the same.
"Will you ma-"
"Yes," you breathe without letting him finish, your hands coming to either side of his jaw. He pulls you into his arms grinning before his mouth is on yours, gentle and sweet. You know that your eyes are wet and you know that on your deathbed this will be one of those moments that comes to you, comforting you.
You pull back and look around at all the balloons, the color and you smile broadly through the tears.
"Couldn't wait for your birthday," Joel murmurs against your cheek. "Hope that's okay."
"Yeah," you say curling your arms around his neck. "It's okay."
You don't mind at all.
///
"Shit, did you feed the cat?"
"Daddy you said sh-"
"I know babygirl," Joel says rubbing the back of his neck as Sarah looks to him with a chastised look. "Was wrong of me. Daddy just doesn't want to find another hairball in his shoe. "
Jam, your orange tabby kitten is not really yours at all. Despite being brought home for you, Jam quickly decided that Sarah with her warm bed and shirts covered in food crumbs was a much better companion than you. You don't mind though, seeing how much Sarah loves the cat is enough for you.
"I fed him," you say giggling as the three of you make your way up the drive. The whole gang has been invited to Frank and Bill's for a Sunday lunch. You see them quite often despite living on Rancher Street full time.
They often encourage you to bring Sarah and you do without hesitation. She loves Bill and Frank just as much as you do. She loves painting with Uncle Frank and baking with Uncle Bill. She loves that their house smells like cinnamon in the winter and fresh flowers in the summer.
Despite living right next door, Maria and Tommy arrive late with cornbread and lemonade, but are given a reprieve when Maria shares that she took so long getting ready because "morning sickness makes it hard to feel cute."
Joel had hugged Tommy so tightly you were sure you heard bones cracking. You had just cried, throwing your arms around Maria, careful not to squeeze. Sarah asked to feel the baby and Maria told her it was a bit too early to feel much, but she still let her niece gently stroke her swelling belly.
"I think it's gonna be a boy," Maria told you sagely over lemonade at the table. "A mother knows."
You smile, thinking of a little mix of Maria and Tommy in the vision of a little baby boy. Your eyes sail over to Joel, watching as he chats with Jackson and Tommy. You wonder what it would be like if you had a kid. Who would it take after?
You’re distracted by this idea when Sarah and Bill bring out the dessert, followed by Frank with the coffee. The cupcakes are decorated to resemble beautiful flowers and you all wait as Sarah picks the perfect one for each of you. A daisy for Sarah, a lily each for Auntie Maria and Uncle Tommy, a purple rose for Daddy, a peony for Frank and a forget-me-not for Bill and finally Sarah smiles at the pink carnation she labored the longest over with Bill. Sarah immediately cites that this one belongs to you.
"That one," Sarah says pointing, watching as Bill pushes the plated cupcake in your direction. "Do you like that one, Mama?"
Joel's hand that's been absently rubbing along your spine stills when he hears that. His attention goes to your face, seeing the way your eyes have gotten wide. Mama.
You feel your breath catch in your chest as she calls you this, her tiny face turned up and smiling at you. You don't want to embarrass her, don't want to draw attention to the fact that she's called you Mama.
She did it so casually, so naturally that a part of you is worried she didn't even realize she'd done it. If you draw attention to it you're scared there's a chance that she'll take it back.
"I love it," you whisper, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you, bug."
You kiss her again, feeling tears prick your eyes when Joel's hand skates to the small of your back, squeezing softly. Maria and Tommy are wet-eyed, and share a soft smile before turning their attention to their cupcakes. Frank sniffles, pretending he’s just about to sneeze. You catch Bill’s eyes across the table and when you see them glossy and that’s what makes the tears spill over your lash line.
"Why are you crying?" Sarah asks, her head cocked to the side. She can’t understand why everyone suddenly got so quiet.
"I'm not," you insist. "Just allergies."
Sarah is satisfied or maybe just relieved with this answer and she and clamors onto the chair next to you, ready to dig into her own cupcake. She leans companionably against you, starting to tell Auntie Maria and Uncle Tommy about the class hamster.
You feel Joel's kiss on your temple and you turn to see his eyes damp like yours.
"Mama," you whisper to him. "I'm Mama."
////////
3 years later
Joel is at your side, whispering how strong you are, how beautiful, but all you want to do is punch him.
Hard.
"You did this to me!" You say through clenched teeth as a wave of painful cramping goes through you. Your head falls back onto the damp hospital pillow.
"If I recall it was a very mutual decision," Joel insists with a wry smile. His mouth goes to your ear and his voice drops to a deliciously low timbre only you can hear. "The words 'fuck me pregnant' were a direct quote by you, were they not?"
You don't answer him on that. Not just because he's right, but because a stab of pain is going through your pelvis that takes your breath away.
St. David's is a very fine hospital with very fine people but at this moment everything is not fucking fine. You feel like you've been split in half by a fucking axe.
"Doing so good, baby," Joel croons, wiping the damp hair from your forehead and temples as he watches the doctor and nurses at your feet. "Keep going, keep going."
For a delirious moment you think that it was Joel saying these exact words that got you pregnant in the first place and you let out a high pitched laugh as Joel looks to you in concern.
"Push," the doctor says, breaking into your foggy brain. And so you do. As you have been doing for the last three fucking hours.
You grit your teeth, feeling Joel's mouth on your temple whispering words of encouragement and you push. You push with everything you have and then...
There is a pause and then the loud braying sound of a newborn's cry. The doctor's voice behind the mask rings out.
"It's a girl!"
A sister for Sarah, just like she'd wanted.
A second daughter for you and Joel.
You look over to see Joel's dark eyes shimmering with tears and you feel you've never been so in love with him as you are in this moment. You burst into tears, your face wet as Joel kisses you.
"You're amazing," Joel whispers against your mouth. "Fucking amazing."
The nurse brings over a pink faced infant with a shock of dark brown hair. She is pink all over and her little face is scrunched up as she wails. You take her into your arms, marveling at how you and Joel made the little creature you're now holding. She's so warm and she smells so good.
You glance over at Joel, recalling all the nights spent with his hand curving over your belly, murmuring soft sweet things to your daughter as she grew there. You think of when you both sang together, your hand carding through his hair and his eyes on you. You remember how on the days she felt really jumpy, all it would take is Joel singing a few bars from a song and she would quiet right down.
Now Joel's finger goes to trace the slope of her tiny nose and you smile as she quiets down, grunting. Seems he has a soothing effect on her outside the womb as well.
"She's so fucking perfect."
"Hopefully she doesn't swear as much as her parents," Joel says as he presses his lips to your temple.
You giggle at that, pulling her back so you can see your daughter's sweet face. The wailing has subsided and she gives little grunts as she tries to open her eyes.
"Hi Ellie," you coo. "We're your parents."
/////
Four years after your first meeting, Joel Miller sits across from you in the very booth you had your disastrous blind date on. It's become a sort of tongue in cheek tradition, to have you all back to where it began.
Only this booth is far more crowded than it ever was then. A very pregnant Maria slides in next to you, looking every bit the beautiful goddess she always does. Tommy and their son slip into the opposite side beside Joel, saying their hellos.
"They're so cute," Maria coos as she watches Sarah give Ellie a toy to play with before going back to her puzzle book.
"Sarah loves being a big sister," you smile softly.
"Tell that to Jackson would you?" Maria says rolling her eyes at her eldest child who is obsessed with his game boy. "He seems to think that this new baby means the beginning of the end."
"He's been an only child for so long he doesn't want to share you," you insist. But you can't help but feel secretly lucky that your daughter's had an immediate connection.
Even when pregnant, Sarah had talked to the baby in your belly, she'd even helped pick out her sisters name. At this moment Sarah is curled up next to you on her seat, pencil in hand and her eyes focused on her latest obsession.
Toad has been replaced by puzzle books (though you still find him under her pillow most nights) and her new favorite color is green. She's wearing green head to toe tonight including the green barrettes in her hair. She's like a slender blade of grass with wild hair and big, hazel eyes.
And while much about Sarah has changed, she still smiles when you and her father kiss, she still wows you with knowledge beyond her years and she still plays with the ends of your hair when she's anxious or distracted. Oh and she still loves you to death.
You sling an arm around her, your eyes on the menu before traveling up to watch Joel across from you. He's looking at Ellie in her booster seat next to him, babbling incoherently as most toddlers do.
Ellie is a daddy's girl though and through, obsessed with Joel the minute she laid eyes on him. It's now to the point where if she starts crying most mornings you simply glance his way. He always gives a grumpy frown before you see the smile peeking through as he goes to retrieve her from her crib.
He's smiling broadly at her now, his finger tracing down her nose as she gurgles. Something he’s done since she was born. There's something about seeing Joel Miller, all broad shoulders and inherent masculinity, being so soft that makes you love him harder.
Sometimes when you're watching him play with your daughters or watching him cook you all dinner, you feel this overwhelming love for Joel that's almost incapacitating.
He seems to sense your gaze because his eyes travel over to you. He gives you a playful wink.
"You look great tonight," Joel says with eyes that linger on your décolletage.
"Thanks," you say taking an equally appreciative look at your husband. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
More than pretty well. Joel Miller is, as Frank had once told you, sex on legs, and you have to agree with the assessment. His linen shirt is rolled to the elbows, showing off his muscled forearms. His hair is brushed back from his face and he's wearing his glasses as he reads the menu. (Something he only does when desperate as you’d found out when living with him).
Joel wets his lower lip without thinking, his eyes drifting back down the front of your dress. Maria and Tommy are helping Jackson decide on what to order for dinner, distracted from your end of the table.
"You keep looking at me like that, Miller and we're gonna wind up with another kid," you murmur with a smirk, knowing Sarah's not paying attention.
"I'm not opposed to that," Joel says, his gaze heated.
"That's because you don't have to carry or pop them out," you reply with a good-natured roll of your eyes. "Just get to do the fun part."
Joel grins as you tilt over the table to fix the bow in Ellie's hair that your mother sent you. Ellie gurgles happily at you, smacking her tiny fists on the table. Joel takes this as an opportunity to not very covertly ogle your chest.
"Joel," you hiss, even though a smile is breaking out over your features. Joel tries to look innocently up at you, brows raised.
“Yeah baby?”
You want to be irritated, but he knows very well you love it.
"I don't know this one, Mama," Sarah says pointing to something on the page in her puzzle book. She's normally very independent so you know she must be really stuck. You glance over at the crossword clue.
"A six lettered spore producer," you read aloud and think for a moment. "Fungus?"
"That fits," Sarah enthuses, her pencil writing hurriedly.
"Speaking of which, I'll have the mushroom ravioli," you say as your server comes to take your order. Joel orders his chicken penne and Sarah's spaghetti and then his hand comes to fall on yours as the server takes the rest of the orders for the table.
His hand is heavy and warm, but that's nothing compared to the warmth of his eyes. It's the kind of look you associate with deep thinking, his "dreamy stare" as you've coined it.
"What are you thinking about, Miller?'
"Just that I never thought I'd be married to the same woman who screamed at me in the parking lot of this very restaurant."
You giggle behind your wineglass, watching Joel's eyes go soft.
"Or how happy I'd be."
He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing gently. He holds you there, watching as you stare back at him with eyes so full of love you're shocked Cupid himself hasn't come to give you his job.
You begin to smirk when Joel's dark eyes drop to your chest and then dart back to your face.
"I was also thinking about how three is a very nice number. . ."
#joel miller x you#something to fight for fic#something to fight for#something to fight for series#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#dad joel miller#pedro pascal#fanfiction#smut#fanfic#Dad!Joel#dad!joel miller#Joel Miller lives#Happy ending#Epilogue#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic
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would love to hear more about the “chuck was the one who brainwashed cas and kelly actually” theory, thank you :)
Okay so I'm going to sound like I'm not addressing your question at all at first but just bear with me.
One of the primary reasons that the baby brainwashing incident fascinates me is that Cas's actions are a betrayal of his and Dean's bond on a foundational level. I'm not talking about The Colt or the mixtape (though they're related).
Dean and Cas's relationship as handler and charge was shed and a real, genuine bond bloomed in 4.22, after this exchange:
DEAN
Destiny? Don't give me that "holy" crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families -- that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?
CASTIEL
What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam.
DEAN
You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise.
These are the words that convince Cas to rebel. These are the words that dissolve Cas's doubts in doubt, and convince him to follow his convictions instead of act on blind faith. Shortly after this conversation, Cas flies Dean to Chuck, who tells them what they're up to isn't supposed to happen. This becomes a theme of Dean and Cas's relationship.
Together, Dean and Cas do things that aren't supposed to happen—that aren't part of God's plan. They do something Chuck explicitly says isn't supposed to happen in 4.18. They do something that Chuck explicitly says isn't supposed to happen in 4.22. They do something that Chuck explicitly says isn't supposed to happen in 5.22.
Dean and Cas's relationship, at its very core, is built upon the rejection of two things: 1) Destiny and 2) Paradise—and by the end of "The Future", Cas explicitly (in the production draft) embraces destiny and paradise... and that screams Chuck.
This is what Cas says to Kelly right after the devil baby brainwashing at the very end of "The Future". The "Paradise" part doesn't make it to the final cut—just the "future" part... but the Paradise part is implied by the "future" part anyway.
What else happens in "The Future"? Kelly says the line.
It's not supposed to happen this way.
She says the line that Chuck said every time Dean and Cas defied the writing during the first apocalypse by doing something Chuck couldn't or didn't anticipate. Kelly says this after Sam and Dean catch up to Castiel—after Sam and Dean convince Cas to just talk through all of this with them and not jump to the nuclear option of murdering Kelly—to consider an alternative plan where Kelly and Jack's lives are both preserved because Jack is born a regular baby. The moment Cas begins to agree to talk, Kelly says "It's not supposed to happen this way."
Now let's talk about Kelly. Her behavior this entire episode is insane. She begins the episode despairing because giving birth to Jack will kill her. She then tries to kill herself, but Jack won't let her die—and this throws Kelly into a sort of religious fervor—convincing her that Jack is actually good and could revolutionize the world. Her belief in this is so powerful that when Sam and Dean arrive, she immediately rejects the plan they've come up with that will spare her and Jack's lives:
Sam: No, Kelly, if you go with Cass, you die. Your baby dies.
Kelly: I go with you, you take away the thing that makes him special.
She sounds nuts. Like. Imagine saying you'd rather you and your baby DIE than have a "normal" baby. Your baby HAS to be a special baby or you'd rather be dead? Uh... ew—and to a point that screams supernatural brainwashing.
Of course—Kelly's actions aren't quite as irrational as they seem because right before Sam and Dean arrived, Kelly was shown something by "Jack". She got Cas to lay his palm on her belly, and "Jack" showed her a vision of the future. After she takes off with Cas in the impala, she says,
When you put your hand on my stomach, I heard him. He spoke to me. He told me that even if it seems scary, if I just went to the gate, if I just followed your plan, that you would make sure he was born.
So even as she's driving herself straight into Cas's plan to kill her and her baby, Kelly believes everything will be fine—because "Jack" showed her the future... and the thing is? She's... not wrong. "Jack" did show her the future. "Jack" showed her a tiny moment that actually does happen at the end of the episode—Cas standing between her and Dagon and saying "You stay away from her".
Why do I keep putting "Jack" in quotes here? Because Jack never displays the ability to see the future after his birth, and yet "Jack" did have this power from the womb... only? Yeah... I'm not so sure. I'm wondering if it was someone else—someone who showed Kelly what they had already written.
I'll also note in 13.01, that Jack doesn't seem to remember... any of this happening—at least not in the same way. In fact, he recalls very little leading up to his birth. The way he describes it, his sole knowledge of the world prior to his birth came from Kelly speaking to him while he was in the womb... but also... not? Because he says he was Kelly?
SAM: How do you speak English?
JACK: My mother taught me.
SAM: So you talked to her.
JACK: I was her.
JACK: My mother, she said Castiel, he would keep me safe. She said the world was a dangerous place. That's -- that's why I couldn't be a baby or a child. I... That's why I had to grow up fast. That's why I chose him to be my father. Where is he?
It's all pretty confusing, but something blinks at me here: Jack says Kelly told him Castiel would keep him safe and indicates that he chose Castiel as his father based on Kelly's assessment. However, Kelly told us Jack showed her the future which told her that Castiel would keep Jack safe back in 12.19. These are two contradictory stories. What if a third party sowed both?
Two other little bits:
First:
Kelly: Maybe – maybe everything that I've been through, everything that I still have to go through, is happening for a reason. Maybe it's part of some plan.
Castiel: No, it isn't. I used to believe in a plan. I used to believe that I had some mission. But I have been through enough now to know that everyone is just winging it.
Castiel does a 180 on this by the end of the episode and it screams Chuck Chuck Chuck Chuck.
Second:
If you go to the 12.19 production draft (graciously provided to the fandom through @/spnscripthunt) on page 45, you'll see something that never made it to screen—Cas's vision of paradise.
Only—these visions don't seem to come to fruition unlike Kelly's vision of Cas protecting her. The bits with Dean and Castiel's wings don't feel like the future anyway—they... just feel like what Cas wants most desperately at that time—to be a protector and provider who can handle everything on his own—who needs a "win". This is another theme of the episode. Cas stole The Colt in a misguided attempt to protect his family from having to be directly involved in the ruthless murder Cas had determined would be necessary. He didn't believe there was any other choice, and he wanted to spare Sam and Dean the pain of being involved in the dirty work.
Sam: Then – Then why didn't you call us? Cas, we could've helped you.
Castiel: I know. I wanted to keep you out of this. I-I was trying to keep you safe.
Dean: You're not our babysitter, Cas, okay? That is not your job. And when in our whole lives have we ever been safe?
This probably stings for Cas because he knows they aren't, and he wants them to be—he wants his family to be safe... all without having to discard his conscience by killing Kelly. He wants her to be safe too! The stuff he sees gives him what he wants--Sam and Dean and Kelly happy and safe—Dean thanking him—Cas once more a fully powered angel who doesn't need anybody's help.
But all of this stuff he sees? It's a lie. It's a lie because it never happens, but it's also a lie because destiny is always a lie. Paradise is always a lie. God's plan is just a way to keep them all in line... and Cas is trying to secure paradise for someone who said they'd take the pain and the guilt over someone else's vision of their paradise.
#mail#no one can control you but you#12.19#13.01#jack#kelly#and cas is my best friend#spn and causality#chuck#cas and power#castiels motivations
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Sugar (C)Rush Short: Heated 🔞
In which you finally get what you want, but its more than you'd thought.
Tags/Warnings: Wolf!Jungkook, Dog!Reader, Smut, NSFW, Slow sex, protected sex because we wrap it up in this household, knotting oops, a lot of.. fluids, very fluff, soft, so soft, nesting, biting?, they're so cute
Length: 2k Words
There is no taglist for this fic.
-> Masterlist
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥
Jungkook is definitely not in a hurry, that's for sure.
He seems entirely content watching you struggle on his lap, grinding into his hand for any sort of relief, though it's not that easy. "Have you ever spent it with anyone before?" He asks gently, tucking some of your hair behind your ear before his hand holds your lower back again, giving you a sense of security on your position on his lap.
You shake your head, and he chuckles, curling his finger a little, which makes you jump from the sudden movement. "So I'm your first?" He wonders, and you nod, stilling a little.
"Is that.. bad?" You ask, a little confused and also out of breath, but he laughs, and shakes his head.
"Means I don't have to compete first of all-" He jokes, before leaning back a bit further, and pushing your behind forward- making you realize rather quickly what exactly you're now sitting on. "-but also makes me wanna make sure I'll stay your one and only." He hums with a dark gaze, something that makes you squirm a little.
"But-" You worry a little, ears tilted backwards, as his hand reaches out to caress your cheek. "-you're a wolf? Don't you wanna.. have fun, you know, until you find your mate?" You ask, and he smiles at you, shrugging.
"Who says I haven't found it already?" He tells you charmingly, making you shy away a little from him. "I'm not joking." He tells you, and you're not sure what to say now.
"Can we.. maybe, nest together?" You ask, quietly as if you don't want to be heard- but he hears it clearly, and nods.
"Of course. We don't have to do anything at all-" He tells you, but you shake your head, without thinking pressing down a little on his pretty obvious tent in his pants, making him groan out.
"Oh- sorry-" You apologize, but he's still smiling, taking it lightly. "But uh.. I do want to, but like, I don't know.. properly?" You wonder, and he nods, understanding.
"Of course." He smiles, helping you onto your feet to go gather all the blankets you think might be necessary for a proper nest- constantly looking at Jungkook for reassurance, which he happily provides. You're worried the longer you take the less he'll be interested in.. well, that, but it doesn't seem like he's bothered at all.
It's relaxing, comfortable. Makes you feel more at ease than you thought you would be.
You're not sure what to really do as you move the blankets and pillows around in the living room, but he's quick to help you in that task. And as soon as he realizes you're satisfied with it as you lean into the sides of the nest, finally laying down to rub your scent all over it, he's all over you. His hands are pressing your back into his front, face in your neck as he nips at the skin, teeth biting playfully, not enough to hurt.
He's still just playing around.
But you want more.
You let yourself fall down onto your back beneath him, eagerly accepting his heated kisses while you squirm under his exploring hands. Unbeknownst to you, your scent is already driving him crazy- but he's using all of his willpower to control himself and take things slow. Not just for your sake-
But also because he really enjoys seeing you so desperate.
He complies with your wordless request to lose his shirt- and while you're a little bit intimidated, you try and stay calm. It's not like you believe he'd hurt you. It's more the insecurity of your currently very much not as lean body he's about to see, lower stomach a little bloated from the hormones rushing through you- for once without any medication to control them.
But he doesn't seem appalled at all once he pulls your top over your head. If anything, he appears to be even more eager now, hands running over your warm skin, lips kissing your neck and shoulder. "You're so pretty." He compliments randomly, breathlessly, and you can't do much more than whine, tail wagging. "Hm?" He chuckles, leans back on his heels as he pulls your legs over one of his shoulders, pulling both your shorts and underwear off in one go, before he lets them fall down somewhere in the distance. Your legs are lowered again, and so is he- mouth and hand on you now, clearly starting to explore what makes you feel the best.
His fingers feel foreign inside you, so much better than your own, and you can't help but buck your hips a little at the sensations of it all. His tongue is warm, sometimes running flat over your heat, and occasionally, he closes his lips over your sensitive nerves to gently suck. It's all so new and unclear- you never really know what's coming next, and maybe for once, you're not scared about that fact. Because it's him- and he knows what's best, right?
Once he's pleased with whatever he's been doing to you does he open his own jeans, finally getting rid of the last pieces of clothing hiding his skin away from you.
And one look is enough for you to now know why he'd brought that.. bottle of clear lube with him.
"You know, I brought the lube for a reason.." He almost.. shyly tells you, hand teasing you between your legs, almost playfully coating his own fingers in your clear arousal. "..but I don't think I actually need it." He teases, before he moves to roll the condom over himself, the hand that's been occupied with you just moments prior now running over the entirety of his length base to tip, making you swallow almost impatiently at the sight. "If anything hurts-" he starts, but you just whimper in complaint.
"-I'll tell you. Please-!" You beg, legs pulled close to your stomach to present to him, and he can't help the soft growl that escapes him at the sight of your submissive impatience, skin all flushed and hips unable to stay still it seems. The hairs of your fluffy tail stick together in little groups at the base, wet from your own arousal having slowly traveled down, slowly reaching the sheets below you by now.
He pulls on your knees before be adjusts your position to his preference- having you lay somewhat sideways, one leg held by his hand under your thigh over his waist while the other stays on the bed, comfortably stretched out. He doesn't need much help even from himself to find your entrance, tip easily slipping inside, and he can already feel you clenching around nothing. "So needy.." he teases, before he pushes quite a bit, a sigh leaving you as you feel him filling you up inch by inch.
He goes slow, steady, let's you adjust for as long as you have to, patiently scanning your body and face for any signs of discomfort as he moves along. He's making your head spin and thoughts go silent, nothing on your mind but him- as you slowly let yourself go, very much aware of what's happening to you-
and one look is shared with him, before you let your instincts take control, his own reacting almost immediately.
And then he pulls back, just to push back in with a lot more force than before, a wet smack accompanying the motion. You can't keep your voice quiet, the moan escaping you soft but audible, and he smiles to himself, watching you. He does it again, leans over you now, free hand pushing into the blankets you're laying on right next to your waist, lips finding yours in a heated kiss.
Now you understand what other hybrids mean when they say how good your heat can feel with the right partner.
The deeper he goes, the more your body feels like it's on a Rollercoaster- that distinctive feeling in your stomach making your hips writhe while he leans back a little, holding your thigh to keep you close while his hips move sinfully. Normally, your mind would be full of worry.
But right now, it's just filled with the need for pleasure- the need to be as close as you can to him.
"So good.." he sighs, eyes focusing on the sticky strings of your arousal clinging to his skin already, wet sounds accompanying every soft thrust he delivers to you, slow moving, everything still casual, soft, gentle- and he plans to keep it this way, for now, to slowly ease you into it. He can't wait to breed you properly one day, make love to you until your body gives up- but for this time, he behaves, goes slow, let's you adjust.
This isn't about him, after all. It's all about you, and the connection you're creating in this moment.
And he can't say that he's missing anything either- though true, that he's typically a more.. active lover, always needing a certain sense of excitement and primal form of aggression, but for the first time, he doesn't actually mind this slow love at all. He enjoys this fully, if only for the look on your face, head pushed back into the pillows below, soft sighs and eager whining coming from you, as you stretch your arms above your head, back arching in pleasure. You're pushing yourself closer to him, leg now moving to turn yourself over onto your back instead, ankles pulling yourself closer as your heels push against the small of his back, making his hips snap against you a little harsher, skin against skin now louder in the room.
"Such a pretty girl.." He hums breathlessly, hands grabbing at your thighs as he pulls you closer, your legs becoming restless as you begin to clearly chase your first high. your tone raises in pitch, breaths coming shorter, as you clench around his length inside you, and he himself can feel his own high approaching as well. His hands become eager to touch, your skin too warm and soft and enticing to not run his fingers over, the need to feel you suffocating almost.
It's then that he changes positions once more, now leaning over you, lips catching yours in a heated kiss that's clearly trying to steal your breath. His tongue is eager to taste you, and you willingly let him, all shame thrown out the window as he picks up the pace, finally giving you the last push you needed as you whine out, tipping over the edge as he snaps his hips into yours, moving to instead bite at your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. He needs to mark you up, has to claim you, because if this isn't love, then love has to be a lie.
He has to keep you. Needs you at his side forever. You're it for him, and he knows it- realizing only seconds after his knot locks him inside you, that the bond between you both has snapped into place.
Mates.
He never thought it was actually a real thing- always somehow thought it was just a very romanticized fictional story people talk about when they think of their partners. Like soulmates, it was just a pretty little story to him- but this? This is real. So much so that it almost hurts.
He holds you close long after you both reached your highs, and it's not just because of his knot keeping you locked inside you. It's also to bond with you fully, arms reaching to adjust the nest around you, pulling the blankets closer to support your back, while he makes sure to not make you uncomfortable or hurt you by moving too much.
You on the other hand just cling to him and his warm skin, his scent and his care and his overall emotional energy keeping you close, as if there's an invisible string keeping you attached. You don't know it yet- you'll probably figure it out once you're in a more rational headspace again, however. But for now, it doesn't matter.
For now, you just exist.
For now, you're both just simply in love.
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#hybrid imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#bts smut#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#bts jungkook fanfic#bts jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader
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please please please some baby max 🙏
Have a little (sort of) seasonally appropriate baby Max! It's jumping a little out of order.
To recap where we are: Daniel turned down a seat this year, Max is still running away when he's back to being grown up, and Daniel isn't dealing very well with the whole missing-Max-both-as-an-adult-and-a-child kind of a thing. This is just an excuse for writing a specific moment.
(this link shows the stuff I’ve already posted in chronological order if the tag isn't working.)
Daniel's woken by his phone after a fairly useless single hour's sleep. He considers, for a second, ignoring it. But it's Christian, so he doesn't.
"Max has Gone Small," Christian says without bothering with anything nice like hello or how was your 18 hour flight the week between Christmas and New Year or how are you coping without a race seat for next year for the second year in a row. "How soon can you get here?"
Daniel presses his face into the hotel room pillow. "Where are you?"
"HQ," Christian says. "Tell me your hotel and I'll send a car to pick you up."
Daniel can't remember where he's staying. 'London' probably isn't good enough. He fumbles for the room service menu on the desk, and reads out the hotel name.
"I'll call you back with an ETA," Christian says. He's not been as nice to Daniel after Daniel turned down both Max's temporary seat cover and the AT seat for next year. He doesn't understand. "Max wants you."
"Yeah," Daniel says. He stands, barefoot and just in his underwear, and looks at himself in the mirror. He's hollow eyed from lack of sleep. And, probably, a selection of prolonged bad choices. His heart pounds. "Tell Max I'm coming for him, okay? See if you can get him some tomato soup in a cup and something to colour. He likes both those things."
"On it," Christian says, and hangs up.
Daniel — exhausted, underweight, jet lagged — gets in the shower with his phone ringer turned up high and the water temperature turned down low. He emerges, shivering, more awake and vaguely cleaner but not much else. He packs his stuff back into his suitcase, unplugs his charger, and checks for a message. There's a car on its way. Daniel gathers up his stuff, wheels his case back towards the lift and checks out of his hotel. He's barely been there two hours.
He doesn't sleep in the car up to Milton Keynes. His knee bounces, and he taps out a rhythm on his thigh with his fingertips. He hasn't seen grown up Max in weeks, and little Max for longer than that.
Daniel hasn't been right since the first time Max got big and left him. There's a hole in the middle of his chest where his heart should be. He's tried to fill it with all the normal things but nothing's worked. He's just sad. It's hard work to hide it. It's harder when he's tired. They were going to see each other this week, with Daniel fulfilling some of his puppet PR duties at the Red Bull New Year's Eve party alongside Max, but that might not be on the table anymore because Max has Gone Small again.
His little boy. He's going to see him again. God.
If he gets there before Max goes big again.
HQ is mostly deserted. There are barely any cars in the car park. Christian's waiting for him at the main entrance, along with an assistant, who Daniel barely says hello to as she promises to get all of Daniel's bags out of the car.
"Max is very unhappy," Christian warns him, as they go inside and towards the stairs. "Turned up this morning and was only here an hour before we all blinked and then he's fucking seven again. Just wants you."
Daniel speeds up. He doesn't even know where he's going, where Max is waiting for him. "Did he eat anything?"
"Refuses," Christian says.
They go through a locked door Christian has to wave a pass at to get through. Somewhere, far away, Daniel can hear a familiar little voice, raised. Upset.
"Maxy-Max," he calls, hand cupped around his mouth. There is, for a moment, abrupt silence. There's a flight of stairs. Daniel takes them two at a time, but he's not fast enough because Max fucking barrels his way out of a room at the top of them and barely manages to stop himself falling headlong over a large fern in a plant pot and toppling down the stairs.
"Daniel!" Max says, tearful and upset. "Daniel, my Daniel." He launches himself at Daniel, and Daniel catches him in a hug. Daniel drops to his knees and Max hugs him all wriggly and tight and het up and crying. He's in grown up Max's t-shirt, way too big, and grown up Max's socks, falling off his feet and making him slip-slide all over the place. Someone, somehow, has got him into a pair of Go Small shorts, but the fabric is itchy even to Daniel's hand, so Max must be hating it.
"Hello, baby," Daniel says, kissing Max's cheek, his ear. He thumbs away a tear from Max's pink, flushed cheek. Another one. "I've missed you so much."
Max just holds on tighter. "Can we go home now," he whispers, but Daniel can't take him home. All the Guardianship papers are in Monaco. All their Red Bull responsibilities are here, and even if Max doesn't have to put food on the table, Daniel's career is on indefinite hiatus and the money he's making now will have to last him. And Max doesn't stay like this. He doesn't stay with Daniel.
"Not just yet," Daniel tells him. He hugs Max tighter, lifting him off the ground. Max tucks his face into Daniel's neck, wrapping his arms all around Daniel's neck. He gets to his feet, Max wrapping his legs around Daniel's waist and staying as close as possible. "Are you hungry, Maxy-Max?"
Max nods, his nose dragging over Daniel's neck. He doesn't feel warm either, and Daniel wants to find something to get him changed in to and get him something to eat.
"Let's get you—" he says, but then he has to close his eyes really tightly.
Max wriggles, and shifts, and when Daniel opens his eyes again, the Max in his arms is his toddler Max, his baby Max, his best little boy. He's gone smaller.
"Hey," Daniel says softly. "Hey, baby."
Max rears back in Daniel's arms. He's pink and tearstained and very serious. He pats both his hands to Daniel's cheeks. Holds Daniel still.
Daniel waits. He can be patient where Max is concerned. Can let him have whatever time he needs to do whatever it is he needs to do.
"Daddy," Max says, and—
And.
Daniel's world is different now. It will be forever different. A before, and an after.
"Hey," Daniel says, in the end, and Max looks at him and beams.
Carries on here.
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Sampo likes to be vague about where they're going. It's kind of like a game to him, one that only he knows the rules to. Gepard asks, even though he knows it's nearly hopeless; where are we going? Is it a planet, a ship, a living creature? Which galaxy are we in? Is there oceans, deserts, forests? What kind of animals are there, what kind of people will they see?
Even when his questions go unanswered, Sampo's eyes gleam. Sometimes he shuts Gepard up with a kiss, a hand pressed over his heart, or teeth brushing over the column of his neck in a way that makes his breath stutter.
This time, though, Sampo is direct. For once, Gepard doesn't have to ask. Sampo wakes him up with instructions.
"Don't leave the ship," he instructs for the hundredth time as he guides the ship towards a strange, lone rock in the cosmos. The section of space they find themselves in is strange, a sweet, heavy feeling in the air. Their destination is in the midst of an asteroid field, metallic debris and chunks of meteors strewn and suspended about like someone strung them up randomly.
It's a bar, that much is evident. A sort of small, concrete building on a rough landform. It looks industrial, like someone had sliced a building out of a strip mall and deposited it here. There landform it's placed on is a small island, overrun with weathered docks made of scrap metal and decaying wood, anchored to nothing. various ships, dozens of them of all shapes and sizes, cling to the docks or are anchored to the landform itself, with ropes or chains or strange contraptions. For a desolate corner of the universe, it's packed. Yet Gepard doesn't see a single living person in sight.
"Gepard."
Sampo says his name with an uncharacteristic urgency that makes him jump, only then realizing Sampo had docked their ship as well and left them sitting in silence for however long. Sampo stands in front of Gepard now, hands on his hips and a rigid, towering figure. The starlight seeping in and the bright, flashing fluorescent lights on the bar glow from behind him, casting a shadow over his face. "Did you hear me?"
"Don't leave the ship," Gepard parrots, only half awake, with his legs crossed and a blanket draped over him. Sampo's jaw tightens. "Yes, but what else?" Gepard's sheepish silence is met with a low sigh, Sampo pinching the bridge of his nose. "Geppie, I'm being serious here, okay? This is important."
Gepard doesn't understand, but Sampo's tight posture, the pinched slant of his eyebrows, the way his stare feels intent, pointed on Gepard's skin, all makes secondhand unease curdle in his stomach. He bites his tongue and nods his head. Somehow that motion is enough to make Sampo sigh with clear relief, all but collapsing onto the rickety futon beside Gepard.
"Okay, take notes, Gepard. No-- not literally," Sampo adds on when Gepard pulls out his phone, making him blink and put it back down, attention fully on Sampo. "So, you will not leave the ship, under any circumstances. Got it? Never. You could watch the tavern collapse into itself and you still have to stay here. Don't leave and absolutely do not follow me into the tavern.
"But..." Sampo hisses between his teeth, as if pained to say more, "if for some idiotic, stupid reason that only the Aeons know of, you do go inside, there's rules you need to follow." He holds up one finger, intently watching him as if to make sure Gepard was actually paying attention. "First, don't tell anyone your name. Call yourself... the Captain, or something. No one can know your real name. Second, don't eat or drink anything. People will act all kind and hospitable or whatever and try and offer you drinks. Don't take any. Thirdly, do not dance with a single person. Don't dance at all, really. Just stay put somewhere and I'll... I'll find you, alright? Not that I’ll need to, since you won’t go in the Tavern, right? Okay? You got all that?"
Gepard frowns, chewing on his lip. This is the wrong answer, apparently; Sampo makes him jump by grabbing his shoulders, fingers tight where they dig into his arms. "Gepard, please. I'm being serious here. Do you understand?"
"Yes, of course," Gepard nods rapidly, repeating Sampo's rules in his head like a mantra. It's not the truth, though. Confusion prickles under his skin. "Why... are we even here? Wait, why are you going inside? Won't it be... dangerous for you too, then?"
Sampo's smile is sharp, a dangerous flash of pointed teeth. "I am technically a Masked Fool, y'know? And if we're gonna go through this neighbourhood of the universe, I need to, uh... partake in some revelry with the ladies and gentlemen in the Tavern. It'd be rude to walk through their house and not at least say hi!"
It's not the truth, or at least not the whole of it, but before Gepard can press anymore Sampo rubs his hand over his mouth, his words muffled into his palm. "And I gotta pay the owner of the tavern a visit, make sure he's upholding an old deal of ours."
Distaste, a sort of rancid discomfort makes Gepard stay quiet, simply watching Sampo as he gets up waltzes around the small bedroom on the ship. He hums something, talking to himself in cut off sentences like he often does as he gets his jacket, puts on his shoes. He feels different, though, a different kind of undercurrent below his skin. Sampo double and triple checks that his daggers are sheathed and hidden on him before turning to leave.
"Oooooookay! I'll be back!" He sings out, vanishing through the bedroom door and into the cockpit. He's leaning back into the door in less than a second, something in his eyes that makes Gepard sit straight. "Don't. Leave."
Sampo doesn't turn away until Gepard nods again, wiping around and vanishing like he'd never been there. Gepard hears the sound of the shuttle door opening with an airy hissss, slamming back shut.
He doesn't know how long he sits there, stewing in the silence Sampo left behind. The ship is quiet without Sampo's presence. His absence is always a sort of empty stillness, but now it feels suffocating. Gepard starts pacing, at some point.
Neon signs hang on the industrial cement walls of the bar, flashing images of two beer bottles colliding in cheers, an open sign that pulses blue and white. A massive, pink neon glowed the name 'The Green Chapel,' gaudy and far too bright. It makes his eyes hurt, but they still glow on the back of his eyelids when he tries to block them out.
Gepard doesn't see a single person, constantly walking around and up to the windshield, looking out at the other ships. Not a thing has moved, not another living soul has announced their presence. Gepard feels horrifically alone.
It's completely quiet. He can't hear any music, but there's a constant thump thump thump rattling in his bones, his heart, sending goosebumps rising on his skin. It reminds him of Serval's concerts, the times when he went to see Mechanical Fever perform; that sort of all consuming, booming sound of drums and bass that rattles the air.
He isn't sure how much time passes, but he knows it's far, far too long. It takes hours of worrying, of anxiety and unease making him feel nauseous, before Gepard realizes Sampo never said the tavern was safe for him, either.
It's deceptively easy, to leave the ship. Gepard makes sure he has his gauntlet on, properly dressed in jeans and a dark jacket. The air feels cold as he steps down onto the metal dock the ship is precariously perched on. Gepard doesn't hear a thing until he's standing at the old, weathered door, the fluorescent signs humming electric above him.
Gepard walks into the bar and is instantly engulfed by it, sound exploding around him. The music is electric, rhythmic harsh beats that crackle and surround him. It's massive inside, beyond what should be possible. The lights above pulse, the lights like living beings cutting through the darkness and bathing the crowd of writhing bodies in pink, purple, blues and reds. It's warm, a type of wet humidity in the air that smells of sweat and liquor and something strangely sharp-sweet that makes Gepard wrinkle his nose. He barely gets a chance to even recoil after stepping inside when a hand catches him, fingers on his elbow making him jolt away.
"Oh?" A woman, short in stature with long dark hair that glows blue-purple-pink under the throbbing lights. Her face is obscured by a mask, a pointed face with triangular ears. Gepard can almost make out swirling designs, the dark and light colours indistinguishable under the pulsing lights. He can't see her eyes, but there's a sharp tilt of her head that makes him feel small.
"You're new, aren't you?" She giggles, voice somehow cutting through the pounding music. "You are. I'd have recognized that handsome face if I'd seen it before." Gepard stands far taller than her, but somehow Gepard reels cornered, as if she's towering over him. She leans heavily into his side, a hand brushing over his clothed ribs. "Want to grab a drink? My treat, if you pay me back with a dance."
Gepard shoves her away without much thought. "No, I'd rather not," Gepard grinds out. She doesn't even flinch at his rejection, just stepping back. "I'm just looking for someone--"
"Aw, c'mon! No need to be such a bore. Just one dance won't kill you! Why not have some fun while you're here?"
Gepard bristles, overwhelmed and worried with Sampo's warnings swirling through his head. He narrows his eyes, goes to say something or push past her, but for a split second her mask shifts, the corners of its black eyes crinkling like paper. "Wait," she says, her voice burst of noise, "who are you looking for?"
Gepard catches himself before he can respond, clenching his teeth. Sampo had stressed he not say his own name, but what about Sampo's? He doesn't want to take the risk. "That... is none of your concern. Now, if you'll excuse me." He's uncaring as he shoves past her, gritting his teeth at the overwhelming lights and music, trying to stay out of the dancing crowd and keep towards the wall. He freezes when he feels too many fingers on his back.
“You're with him, aren’t you?” He doesn't know how he recognizes It to be her, her voice now distorted and muffled like she's underwater. Gepard spins on his heels and raises his fists on instinct, heart thumping in his chest--but she's gone. Gepard digs his teeth into his cheek and turns back, squaring his shoulders.
The dancefloor in the middle of the tavern is teeming with people, moving like one unified mass of laughter and cheering and screaming people. Gepard keeps to the wall, walking beside tables and booths filled with people all talking and taking shots, singing and laughing under the music. Many of them wear masks, indiscriminate things of varying sizes and shapes that Gepard can't decipher. Many of them don't wear masks, too, a cheerful gleam over their eyes. Gepard keeps catching glimpses of the bar through the crowd, against the far wall that's lined with shelves choke full of bottles. There's one bartender, technically; the person behind the bar is a humanoid figure in a clean blazer, their head gone with numerous grinning and crying and laughing masks spinning around over their shoulders. Their arms seem incorporeal, not quite real in a way that Gepard swears he sees two arms stretched across the bar collecting change, two more mixing a drink, one more talking with a customer like it's a hand puppet. It hurts his head to watch them move.
He has no idea how he's going to find Sampo in this. He should've asked more questions, especially what he's doing here. He tries to look for blue hair, green eyes, that smile he's come to know so well, but the hazy lights and constant movement makes everything blur together.
Gepard isn't looking where he's going, scanning the crowd and the filled tables and booths. His foot catches on the leg of someone's chair, nearly tripping him if it weren't for the hand that catches him by the shoulder. “Sorry,” Gepard gasps out, standing up. The man in the seat laughs, clapping a hand on his shoulder. His mask is more like a helmet, metal shaped into the face and crown of a king.
“No problem, my man!” He laughs loudly, throwing an arm over Gepard's shoulders in a sort of side hug, as if they're old friends. “No harm no foul! What's your name, friend? Come to watch the show?”
“Call me Captain.” Gepard blurts out, looking past him. There's numerous tables and chairs before him, all facing the wall that is covered in dozens of TV screens of varying sizes. They all seem to be showing the same thing; a first person perspective of someone seemingly in battle, fighting a gargantuan reptilian beast. They seem to be losing, someone out of the corner of their eye screaming for them. Many people are watching the screens, cheering and clapping despite the grizzly scene of claws raking across the person's chest. Gepard sees some people groan, others celebrating as credits change hands.
“It's just getting good,” the man pulls at Gepard's attention, motioning for him to sit down. Gepard holds against his tugging. “According to the script, the performer's love interest will watch them perish and go on a rampage to avenge them! Want me to order you a drink, too?”
Gepard's shaking his head before the man's done talking, watching the way the mask's eyes gleam and blink like melting metal. “No,” he says, glad that the man's grip melts off him like ice as he steps back, “no thank you, I'm--”
He's stepped too far back, colliding with someone dancing. Gepard jumps and spins to see someone with the face of a snake and hair like pine needles hiss at him. His heart leaps in his throat as they vanish into the crowd, looking around to find himself engulfed by the dancers, surrounded. The music is too much, warm bodies pressing around him. He can feel his shirt sticking to his back, his heading hurting from the lights and--
A hand, rough and tight and insistent, clamps down on his forearm. Gepard growls and spins around, raising his gauntlet and punching whoever has grabbed him. His attack is halted midair, their hand encasing his fist. Gepard tries to kick, shove and pull away only to be yanked forward towards them.
Off balance, he falls into their grip, arms around his shoulders and his head shoved down into the crook of their neck. He goes to lash out, heart running rampant in his chest. He only stills, though, when he catches a glimpse of blue hair, feels annoying but familiar buckles digging into his own chest. The mouth by his ear, the chin hooked over his shoulder, makes him relax.
“Gepard!” Sampo's voice is a hissed sound, low and only for him. “What are you doing here?” His tone is harsh, his body tense against Gepard's. Sampo's hands are flurry of panicked motion as he runs them over Gepard's back, his arms, his shoulders, his head. “Are you okay? You aren’t hurt? Has anyone tried to-- Why are you here? Seriously, I wasn't joking when I said you needed to stay put! This place isn't safe. This stupid, sorry excuse for a Tavern--”
“I'm sorry,” Gepard interjects, grabbing one of Sampo's hands in his own, the other light on Sampo's waist. He rubs his thumb over the back of Sampo's hand. “I know, I know what you said. But you were gone… a long time. I was concerned and decided to look for you.”
Sampo is quiet, simply standing pressed against Gepard. He feels the tension slowly leave his body, feels his shoulders drop as he lets out a sigh. He says nothing for a moment, intertwining his fingers with Gepard’s, his other hand on his shoulder as he starts to guide Gepard into a slow, swaying motion. He just goes along with it, let’s Sampo lead him into a slow dance that is wildly out of place with the music, the ecstatic crowd around them. Sampo is humming something soft and distantly familiar, his cheek pressed to Gepard’s.
The music is still constant, loud and vibrant, but Sampo’s presence makes it feel… diluted. Faraway and almost muffled, like there’s a bubble between them and the rest of the bar. Gepard glances around and notices it’s the same with the crowd, too; dozens of people around them, lost in their own worlds, now give them a wide berth, a few feet kept between the two of them and everyone else at all times. No one turns to look at them, Gepard doesn’t feel any eyes on him or note any quick glances towards them, as if looking at Sampo will burn their eyes.
“No need to apologize,” Sampo speaks up suddenly. Gepard turns to look at his face, but Sampo holds him chest to chest, keeping his chin over Gepard’s collar. His blue hair is vibrant in the light, his skin almost sparkling. “I shoulda just… brought you with me from the start, probably. Well I’d rather not bring you here at all but…” He sighs, clicks his tongue, leans into Gepard. “Duty calls! Or something like that.”
“Are you done here?” Gepard whispers. Sampo shouldn’t be able to hear him over the surging, vibrant air, but somehow Gepard knows he does. “With whatever it is you need to do here, I mean.” Sampo’s immediate response is a groaning sound deep in his throat, his forehead knocking against Gepard’s collarbone. “No, no. I still… ugh, this place sucks. Just give me a minute, please? And I’ll…”
“Okay.” Sampo leans into him so heavily and fully, like he’s trying to meld himself with Gepard’s flesh, into his skin. Gepard takes his weight without question, content to hold them both up as Sampo sways them in a slow turning waltz. Gepard’s head doesn’t hurt, anymore. The overstimulation has subsided, but the confusion and concern hasn’t, not fully.
“We’re dancing.”
“Mhm. Well, technically. Sampo Koski a better dancer than whatever this is, I assure you!”
“That’s not what I mean,” Gepard says with an amused snort, knocking his temple against Sampo’s head lightly. “I mean that… you said no dancing. With anyone.”
Sampo’s laugh rumbles Gepard’s chest, through his ribs and straight into his heart. “C’mon, Geppie! If you just don’t wanna dance, say so! I promise I’ll pretend it won’t break my weak, frail heart.”
“And you said no names. But you’ve said mine in here many times now.”
There’s a hesitation, one Gepard feels in Sampo’s stuttering step, his hand clenching so slightly around Gepard’s. “It’s… I’m just that exceptional, I suppose,” he says after a strained pause.
Gepard wants to ask. It is a need, a rising feeling that rises from his stomach to his throat. He wants to ask about the people, the masks, the way Sampo’s touch and his presence makes people keep their distance but makes his head feel clear. Gepard has never, really, been curious like his sisters, but Sampo makes curiosity envelop him; Gepard wants to know everything about Sampo, the good and the bad. The things Sampo won’t tell him. But not here, in this strange Tavern with these strange people.
“I’m sorry,” Sampo whispers out, and Gepard feels like he’s apologizing for more than it seems, “but I need to… connect with some old Fools.” Sampo lifts his head and cranes his neck back, scanning over and past the crowd. Gepard tries to get a look at his face but Sampo turns his head each time, the lights and shadows obstructing his expression. All Gepard gets is shimmering, smooth skin like porcelain and a glimpse of green eyes glowing in an indescribable colour.
“I can leave back to the ship,” Gepard says, “just… promise you won’t be long.”
“Sorry, darling, but, uh…” He clicks his tongue, jerks his chin towards where Gepard came, where the door should be. But Gepard sees nothing but chairs and tables, a tall, harsh wall decorated with paintings and photos and screens that make his mind spin. “You’ll have to wait to leave with me, so I can show you the way out. But I’d rather you don’t meet the Tavernkeeper…” He chews on his lip, humming in thought as he searches for… something.
“Aha!” Sampo suddenly jerks, jumping and yanking Gepard along with him. “Found him! C’mon, Geppie! You can hang out with my old friend while I, uh, go say my hellos.”
The crowd parts seamlessly like water, heads turned away from them as Sampo pulls Gepard along. Gepard keeps his head down, focusing onto the point of contact where Sampo holds his hand tightly, his grip protective and unwavering. He doesn’t look back at Gepard once.
A series of pool tables and poker tables envelop the corner, on a raised floor almost like a stage. Gepard glimpses poker chips, cards and credits and roulette wheels all in motion as Sampo guides him through it all to the far corner. A booth catches Gepard’s attention as they approach it, the seats filled with lifesized, off-white porcelain dolls, carved into various mechanical poses. Each has cards and chips in front of them, as if someone had set up a poker scene. The one, moving person sitting at the table makes his eyebrows raise.
“Gio--” Gepard says, clamping his mouth shut before saying his full name. The man’s head snaps up, the familiar mask meeting Gepard’s gaze. The black, indestructible eyes of his mask are dark and depthless. He holds himself upright and proper, gloved fingers clasping his own hand of cards. He tilts his head towards Sampo as they stop right in front of his booth.
“Ayo, Gio! Long time no see!” Sampo laughs, his tone sarcastic and light. He wraps an arm around Gepard’s shoulders, as if unwilling to let go of him in any way. “I didn’t take you for the kind to haunt around this Tavern, but I knew I felt you here! What have you been up to, you old Fool?”
“Brother Sampo, delightful to see you, as always.” His voice is a low, lulling tone, despite how he has to raise his voice to be heard over the constant din of music. He glances down at his cards, tapping the table before looking up again. “I’m simply passing through and staying here a moment before moving on. It’s, frankly, much more strange seeing you here. Business as usual?”
“Business as usual,” Sampo hums and nods, tilting his head in a harsh, jerking motion. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt your game, but I have a favour to ask you.”
“A favour?” There’s a pointed, sharp interest in his tone. Gepard stares at the smooth, two-toned design of his mask, suddenly jumping when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks to the mannequins, staring at them and challenging them to move again. “I don’t mind dealing in favours, especially with you, Sampo. I assume it has to do with…”
Gepard looks back at him, noticing the weight of Giovanni’s attention now on him. Sampo’s grip is tight, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Captain,” Gepard blurts out, “you can call me the Captain.” Sampo’s grip relaxes. The lips of Giovanni’s mask almost seem to lift. “Ah, the Captain, yes. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you here, Captain. Have you been well?”
“I’m doing well, G-Giovanni. It’s good to see you, too.”
“We’re on our honeymoon,” Sampo coos, making Gepard’s face heat up. Sampo gives him the opportunity to protest, but Gepard bites his tongue instead and lets Sampo squirm. “Uh-uhm, yeah! I’m showing him all the sights! The best places in the universe! Not this Tavern, though. This is an unfortunate pit stop I couldn’t avoid. You get it, Gio.” Giovanni just nods in response, lifting his hand and pointing to a mannequin across the table from him. He says a word that is static in Gepard’s ears, and the mannequin has vanished, a seat open.
“Gep,” Sampo whispers in his ear, pulling his attention. Gepard tries to look at his face--Sampo ducks away, just enough to cast shadows over his face. “You don’t mind keeping Giovanni some company here for a minute, do you? I’ll be back before you know it! Oh, don’t play poker with him, though.”
Gepard can’t help but tense, looking to Giovanni with narrowed eyes. “Why?”
“Because he’s a dirty cheater.”
“You shouldn’t project your own failings on me, Sampo Koski,” he says as he shuffles. The chips and the cards have shifted when Gepard wasn’t looking, Giovanni’s winnings now significantly lighter. “Would you like me to deal you in, Captain?”
“I’m okay, thank you.” He peels himself away from Sampo, sliding into the booth across from Giovanni. The music is instantly louder, now away from Sampo. “I won’t be staying long, after all.” Gepard says it with a pointed look in Sampo’s direction, making him snort. Sampo is looking away, only the portrait of his face visible. The little of his smile Gepard can glimpse looks stiff, plastic. “Thanks, Gio! I’ll be back before you know it, Captain.”
He turns on his heels but hesitates. Gepard frowns, goes to ask if he’s okay, only for Sampo to move and surge towards him. He’s quick, the lights making him a blurred movement. Gepard feels Sampo’s lips on his cheek, strangely cold and smooth against his skin. It makes his chest swell regardless.
“See ya!” Sampo spins around and marches off, the dancing crowd parting for him. Gepard watches him all the way, seeking him out when he loses sight of Sampo. He can see the bar in the back from here, the inhuman bartender behind it. Gepard sees a familiar head pause by the barstools, the bartender going rigid like a statue. They move, turn towards Sampo, leaving all their customers who were begging for their attention abandoned without a care. The masks spin, shivering, settling on a massive mask with its expression twisted in something resembling fear. Sampo gestures, shrugs, makes wide, clipped motions with his hands as he says something that makes the bartender recoil. Sampo opens a door Gepard swears wasn’t there before, making the bartender go inside before following them in.
“How has Belobog been?”
Gepard turns back to Giovanni. The lights are overwhelming once more, the music piercing through his flesh, to his very core. It’s hard to focus on the other man, who’s looking down at his poker hand intently. “It’s… yes, Belobog is doing well. Nothing out of the ordinary since you’ve left.” It’s a lie, one Gepard doesn’t feel bad about. If Sampo hadn’t mentioned what had happened to his friend, Gepard definitely wouldn’t be the one to bear both their chests open. “You’ve… been well? You said you aren’t here for long. You’re traveling, I assume?”
“I’m not one to stay idle for long,” he hums, putting chips into the center of the table. The mannequins keep moving out of the corner of Gepard’s eyes, making him jump and stare at their still figures. They’re only animated, fully formed people when he isn’t looking at them, seeing people holding their cards and matching Giovanni’s bet, only to go still once more. Their faces are painted on with what looks like makeup, lipstick spread over their doll-like lips messily.
“I am, frankly, surprised to see you away from your city, Captain.” Gepard looks back to him, watching as he collects his winnings from the mannequins. The sound of his chips clattering together sounds like bells. “Not to say I’m not glad. There is a lot of joy to be found in leaving home, seeing new things. I’m sure Sampo has treated you to some entertaining sights.”
“Honestly,” Gepard sighs, sinking into his chair just a bit, “I never thought I’d leave, either. I could never leave permanently, or travel forever like you do. But it’s been… phenomenal.”
“I’m happy for you.” Giovanni’s tone is the same, level and collected, but Gepard can tell he’s genuine. “Sampo Koski is well versed in… elation, after all. I wouldn’t have expected you to have found each other like this, moreso I’m shocked that that old Fool can settle, but I truly wish the best for both of you.”
He doesn’t really know what to do with this turn of conversation, covering his warm, blushing face with a hand. He laughs into his palm, watching talking mannequins just barely out of his focus. “Ah… thank you? It’s… we… yeah. Yeah.” He pauses a moment, the entirety of Giovanni’s words registering and making him frown. “What do you mean by that?”
Giovanni hesitates while shuffling, the cards in his hands slipping to the table. He huffs, dragging them back together in a clean stack. His movements are smooth, practiced as he shuffles, with unnecessary flourishes as he fans the cards, cascading them between his hands. It reminds Gepard of Sampo, the times they spent playing poker between the two of them, later with Seele once Gepard actually got the hang of it. Sampo is far, far more flashy with it, though.
“You have questions.”
Gepard does. Many of them, listless and disorganized in the confines of his skull. None of them are meant for Giovanni, though. “Are these actually people, or mannequins?”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Giovanni says with a chuckle, dealing out cards. They glide across the table, settling perfectly in front of the mannequins. “Frankly, it is… unimaginable to me that Sampo would bring anyone here, let alone you.”
Gepard crosses his arms, sitting straight. “Why is that?”
“This place is… well, you see how it is.” Gepard doesn’t look away from Giovanni as he gestures out and around them. “Sampo has some… previous agreements that make him come here, but I know he would never set foot in this place if he could avoid it. But him bringing you to any Tavern? He has pulled risks in the past, but I thought he’d be more… careful.”
“I came in here of my own accord,” Gepard bites back, not hiding his defensiveness. “It’s my fault I’m even here. Sampo told me to stay away, but I came in myself.”
“Because you wanted in on the fun?” Giovanni says, “or because Sampo wouldn’t tell you why he’s here?”
“I came in here to make sure he was okay.”
“You truly don’t need to worry about him in any Tavern,” he laughs, clicks his tongue, shakes his head like he’s talking to a child. “I think you know that, too. Sampo isn’t in danger here.”
“You’ve called him old,” Gepard blurts out, digging his fingers into his thighs. It bothers him, for some reason, this strange and unimportant thing. Giovanni seems to expect this, maybe knew he’d planted that niggling worry into his head, tapping his fingers on the table. “Yes, I did.”
“Why.”
“I’m sure Sampo has been careful with you, considering you will return to your planet.” The tap tap tap tap of his fingers on the tabletop send a hammer swinging against his skull. “But Sampo and I are old, especially for Masked Fools. We tend to get too involved in our performances, especially tragedies. Fools don't live as long as us. We have been around this universe… many times. And time isn’t kind in every galaxy.”
“You’re not answering, Giovanni.” He grinds his teeth. He has the rising feeling that Giovanni is taking delight in this, and it makes his hackles raise. “Tell me. What do you mean.”
“How old do you think he is?”
“Gio--”
“You’re probably right,” he interjects, pulling more chips to himself. One of the out of view mannequins shuffles the cards, and it grates on Gepard’s skin. “In your assumption, I mean. He isn’t technically much older than you, but he’s been around longer.
“An example,” he hums, taps his chin, holding Gepard’s gaze. “I have an old business partner in the Klimt Republic. About five years ago, I left and journeyed across the galaxies to meet with merchants, business associates, sponsor the Interastral Tournament Festival, etcetera.” He leans forward, over his own cards and chips and towards Gepard. “I visited him, about a week ago. For him, 30 years had passed. He’d retired and his daughter was managing his business.”
Gepard doesn’t say a word, just watches the tight, careful way Giovanni raises his cards and throws them down on the table. Two aces stare up at them, vibrating on the table like they are going to take flight. Gepard hadn’t noticed the chips all collecting into the middle of the table, Giovanni chuckling lowly as he drags them towards himself.
“I don’t mean to alarm you,” he says without raising his head; Gepard doesn’t entirely believe him. “As I said, Sampo is careful when he wants to be. And knowledgeable, too. He knows the universe better than most do. If you haven’t noted any temporal discrepancies when messaging people, then there’s no harm, no foul.”
“Your name isn’t Giovanni.” Gepard’s words bubble over, not-quite questions that press between his teeth. His head hurts, his brain feeling too large in his skull. Giovanni shakes his head. “No, it is not.”
“Sampo Koski… isn’t his name, is it?”
Giovanni laughs, a full body cackle that sounds shrill and strange from the other man. Gepard grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the pulsing lights that taunt him from above. “Believe it or not, Captain,” Giovanni sighs, rubbing nonexistent tears from the eyes of his mask. He pauses to collect the credits the mannequins had bet, folding it neatly. “But it is. Out of every name he’s taken, it’s the truest.”
The cards have vanished, the chips gone, the mannequins nowhere to be found. It’s as if it had never existed, that Giovanni had been alone. Gepard stares down at the bare, worn table before looking back to Giovanni as he stands up, straightens his suit. “Sampo Koski is an exception.”
He almost wants to ask what in the Aeons he means by that, but Giovanni is making a shocked noise in the back of his throat before he can. He looks down and raises his arm, peeling back his sleeve and looking at his bare wrist. “Ah! Apologies, Captain, but I’m afraid the time has slipped from me. I best be going. Please give Sampo my farewells, and tell him I’m sorry.”
His eyebrows raise, going to stand himself. “Sorry? For wh--”
Giovanni doesn’t say a word, spinning on his heels and straight into the wall. Gepard’s mouth hangs open on his unfinished words when he watches the wall seem to crumble in on itself, revealing a door out into a bright, golden cityscape. It unfurls behind Giovanni and returns to normal in an instant. Gepard bursts to his feet then, hands flat on the table as he gapes at where the other man had once been. He stares a moment, before slowly sitting back down, his stomach in his throat.
He doesn’t know what to do, if he should do anything besides sit there. The bar is overwhelming now without someone or something to focus on, a headache clawing up the back of his spine and digging in behind his eyes. Gepard sinks into the seat, avoiding looking at the writhing crowd of laughing and dancing people. He finds himself looking back to the bar constantly, as if Sampo is waiting for him there. But he isn’t. The bar remains unmanned, numerous customers having climbed over the counter to help themselves now, standing on barstools and sending glass bottles clattering to the floor.
His anxious silence is interrupted quickly; “you look like you need some company!”
“No,” Gepard said instantly, looking up at the man leaning heavily on the table. He’s young, a thin but tall man practically holding himself up against the table. He isn’t wearing a mask, his grin still wide like the artificial smiles he’s seen on numerous predatory masks on other dancers. His eyes are fixated on him in a way that makes Gepard’s skin crawl.
“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that!” The man coos, falling forward onto the table and leaning on his elbows, his chin in his palm. “Why’re you all alone in the corner like this? You should be having fun, dancing, drinking! No need to be all standoffish. I bet I can get you smiling in no time. What’s your name, friend?”
“I’m not your friend,” Gepard growls, standing up, “and I definitely don’t need you accosting me. Goodbye.” He really shouldn’t leave, should stay so that Sampo can find him easily, but the man keeps leaning closer and closer and Gepard feels like a cornered animal. He glances away, ignoring the man’s whined protest, squinting against his headache as he scans the crowd. He steps away, figuring he can just sit at the bar by the drunk, cackling patrons and wait for Sampo there.
He barely takes a step before a hand circles his wrist, fingers feeling cold like a chain, tight against his skin. Gepard bristles, his lip curled as he turns towards the grinning Fool. “Let. Go.”
“Why?” He giggles, pouts, tugs on Gepard’s hand. “Letting go is no fun! You know, you’d be happier if you just danced with me, let me buy you a drink. Why not have a good time, let loose, have some fun?”
Gepard responds by trying to rip his hand out of the man’s grip, but he falls forward with the movement, so close it’s suffocating. His breath smells of liquor as he laughs, eyes shining and too bright. “Ooooh you wanna slow dance instead? Why not just say so? I still haven’t caught your name, though. How ‘bout we trade? You can call me--”
“I don’t want to know,” Gepard growls out, lip curled. He flexes his fingers, feeling the cold swirl around his gauntlet as he clenches his fist and holds it back to strike. “Let go of me right now, or you’ll regret it.”
“How rude.” His smile is sharp, voice like a hiss. “Dance with me, and I’ll forgive you.”
Gepard gave in to the hot anger crawling up his throat, hoping that this wouldn’t cause Sampo too much trouble. “No. Don’t say I didn’t warn--”
He lungs forward as if to tackle him into the other crowded tables behind them. Gepard goes to meet him with his fist but doesn’t get the chance. There’s a surge of movement, a flash of red and purple and blue and the cackling, growling huff of indistinguishable words.that crackle in his ears. A clawed hand on his sternum pushes him back, the man flailing and shoved back like a marionette wrenched by its strings. The man yelps, something cracking as he’s shoved back onto the table and his head collides with the wood. Sampo towers over him as he yanks the man up by his shirt.
“He said no.” Sampo’s voice is a fierce, screeching sound. The fog in the air almost dissolves, the music and the lights secondary to Sampo’s presence. The people nearest have all gone inhumanely still, heads craned in their direction as they pause in their card games or conversations or dancing. Gepard finds himself stunned still, too.
“W-wait!” The man gasps, sounding choked on his own words. He goes to grab at Sampo’s arm but jerks away as if afraid to even touch him, struggling to kick back and away from him. “I-It’s-- I didn’t--”
“Did you not hear him the first time? Or the second?” Sampo grits out his words between his teeth, a sort of dangerous, humourous tone in his voice; a warning. “What makes you think you could grab him like that? Huh? Tell me.”
The man is shaking, eyes wide and manic as he breathes heavily, frantically. “I-I-I don’t--” He gulps, glancing around and behind Sampo as if for someone to save him. Not a single person makes a move, says a word, does anything but gawk with a sort of stunned, scrutinizing stare. His eyes landed on Gepard for only a second before Sampo shook him, saying something low that Gepard didn’t hear. “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, I thought-- I didn’t know that he’s y-your toy already. Please don’t--”
“Toy?” Sampo’s laughter is something shrill and echoing; crunching glass between teeth, violin chords snapping, the echoing ringing of bells, a bellowing horn. It makes Gepard wince slightly, but the people around recoil and groan in pain, hands over their ears as they lurch back. The man in Sampo’s grip looks like he’s going to be sick.
“You are,” Sampo hums, his tight grip on the man’s shirt shaking, “are the worst kind of Fool. The kind who find their sick fun in messing with others? Toying with people and stringing them along. Is that right?” He accentuates his words with a chuckle, shaking the man slightly. Gepard is lost on what to do--until he sees Sampo reach for his dagger. “Is this really Elation, to you? Is there really any joy in making other people suffer, using them? You should thank Aha for not caring how you get your sick thrills, because I won’t--”
Sampo!” Gepard grabs his hand, his fingers a shackle around Sampo’s wrist and his other hand harsh on his shoulder. Sampo tenses and goes to twist towards him, giving Gepard the faintest flash of his face. His eyes are not just green, but swirling with specks of colour like confetti and glowing beyond what should be possible. His skin is too smooth, discoloured and unblemished and sparkling in a way that is entirely alien to Gepard. He sees his eyes widen, something sparking under his irises, before Sampo ducks his head away again. He’s rigid under Gepard’s grip.
“Sampo,” Gepard gulps, pulling back on Sampo’s arm, peeling at his grip around the hilt of his dagger. The man still held in Sampo’s grip whimpers and begs but Gepard ignores it. “That’s enough. Just put him down and we can leave and never come back, okay?”
“But--”
“I’m alright,” Gepard interrupts, already knowing the words caught on Sampo’s tongue, “this wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’m fine. I’d be better if we’d leave, though.”
A muscle in Sampo’s jaw tenses. Gepard just watches him and ignores the weight of the attention on their backs. He watches as the tense, frigid line of Sampo’s shoulders slowly melts and softens. Gepard loosens his grips as Sampo sighs. He lets go of the men, unceremoniously dropping him and letting him fall back onto the table. He sucks in a panicked breath, not looking at either Sampo or Gepard as he scrambles frantically off the table, giving Sampo a wide berth as he bolts.
The music is dulled, a faint pulse in the air. The entire Tavern feels different, tense like everyone was waiting for Sampo to snap again, to attack anyone. Gepard ignores it all, ignores the way masked faces follow him as he takes Sampo’s dagger from his hand, runs a hand across his back. “You’re done with what you needed to do?”
Sampo’s response was a delayed nod. “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry for the wait.” Gepard just shakes his head, Sampo watching Gepard out of the corner of his eye as Gepard holsters his dagger, intertwines their fingers. “Okay, good. If you can show me the way out, then?” He squeezes Sampo’s hand; it takes a moment for Sampo to squeeze back.
“Okay,” he sucks in a breath, exhaling harshly and shaking his head, “okay! Let’s get out of here!” Gepard is all too glad to be pulled along by Sampo, his grip a reassurance as Sampo takes him through the room. Heads swivel in mechanical unison to follow them, people once again parting for Sampo as he tugs Gepard through the dancefloor, moving in a strange pattern until they escape the crowd, a familiar door in front of them. Sampo doesn’t look back at him once, but hesitates a moment.
He spins around, towards the back of the bar. “Hey!” He yells out. Gepard follows his line of sight to the bar; the inhuman bartender stands behind it once more, but they hold themself… strangely, now. Their numerous arms shiver and shake as they messily prepare drinks, and at the sound of Sampo’s yell they jump and recede into themself, the crying mask gyrating.
“Don’t forget our deal, my friend!” Sampo bellows out, one hand by his mouth. His teeth are just a bit too sharp when he smirks. “Or I’ll take matters into my own hands!” The bartender puts their dozens of hands over their mask before ducking behind the bar, Sampo’s laughter seeming to make the liquor bottles shake on the shelves.
Gepard doesn’t get a chance to ask, though, confusion bubbling up his chest. Sampo doesn’t look at him, just squeezes his hand again before turning and shoving the front door open.
It’s quiet outside, just as it had been before. Leaving the Tavern is an instant relief; the hot, too-sweet weight of the air had been suffocating. Gepard can’t help but breathe in deeply and let out a sigh, even as Sampo still drags him towards their ship.
Gepard enters the cockpit and collapses into the passenger chair, knocking his head back against the wall. Sampo’s movements are a relaxing sound, his presence enough to calm him down. Gepard just focuses on the scuffling sound of Sampo’s footsteps, the mechanical whirring of the engine coming to life, the thruming of the propellers lifting them from the dock and the clattering, rhythmic sound of the wings as Sampo guides them through the stars. The faint, dull ache in his head fades as time passes, as they get farther and farther away from that damned bar.
Sampo is the one to break the silence, his words making Gepard snap his eyes open; “I’ll take you straight back to Belobog. It won’t be long. Jarilo-IV isn’t technically that far from here and so I’ll make it quick--”
“What?” Gepard sits up quickly, snapping his head towards Sampo. The passenger seats are situated behind the pilot’s, leaving Gepard to just stare at the back to Sampo’s head. Stars and debris and various celestial bodies pass by them in streaks of colour, their movement a blur through the cosmos. Sampo doesn’t look back at him, doesn’t look at him at all as he speaks. Gepard desperately wants him to look at him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Gepard! You don’t… you don’t need to say anything! I’ll take you home as soon as I can and--”
“No.” Gepard bursts to his feet, marches to Sampo. The other man jumps when Gepard slams his hands down on the back of his chair, forcing him to spin around and face him. Sampo’s face is… back to what Gepard is used to. No signs of needle-point teeth or confetti eyes. But he still doesn’t meet Gepard’s gaze. “What in Qlipoth’s name are you saying, Sampo?”
“I-it’s-- you don’t need to worry, Geppie! I get it, okay? I get it. No need to say anything, I’ll… I’ll just take you back and be on my way--”
“What makes you think I want to leave you?” Gepard barks out, his voice a harsh noise. He grips either armrest tightly, leaning into Sampo’s space. Sampo cranes his head to avoid looking at him, making Gepard make a strangled, groaning noise in the back of his throat. “After everything, you think I want to return home now?”
“Yes! Obviously,” Sampo scoffs, finally meeting Gepard’s eyes. His expression is pinched. “C’mon, Geppie. That… that was too much, admit it. I put you through that, and now you want nothing to do with me.”
“You cannot. Decide that for me,” Gepard growls out, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t just decide for me, Sampo. It’s not your choice to make if I want to be here, with you, or not. And I do. There’s nowhere else I want to be.” Sampo’s eyes flash with something Gepard doesn’t quite catch, but his expression hardens again. Gepard claps a hand over Sampo’s mouth before he can say a word, his protests muffled against Gepard’s palm. “No! I’m talking now, so listen. I have no clue what happened in there, what that place was, what that place did to you. I’m frankly, confused, and concerned, and will absolutely ask you a lot of questions later. But that doesn’t make me want to leave you. And when I do go back to Belobog, you are coming with me, got it?”
Sampo is silent, completely still. Gepard doesn’t look away, doesn’t back down as Sampo traces his gaze over Gepard’s face, catching on his eyes. His eyes shine again, just the slightest bit. Gepard gives him just a moment before he breaks the silence again. “Do you understand me, Sampo? I’m not going anywhere.”
He feels him exhale against his palm, letting Sampo peel his hand off of his face with his mismatched fingers, holding his hand gently, reverent. “Are you sure?”
Gepard doesn’t hesitate: “Of course I am.” He stands back up, Sampo’s grip on his hand lingering a moment like he’s afraid to let go. Gepard just watches as Sampo looks away, his mouth a thin line, his brow furrowing and relaxing like he’s trying not to argue. Eventually he sighs and let’s Gepard go, his relief tangible in the air.
“Besides,” Gepard says with a slight grin, crossing his arms, “you still need to take me to the giant space turtle.” Sampo laughs, glad for the escape Gepard is providing him. His smile is still a bit strained, Sampo’s vulnerability still seeping through the cracks, but he doesn’t seem so… frantic anymore. “Of course, of course! How could I forget.”
He hums, spinning around to the control panels. Gepard still has no idea what Sampo is doing as he runs his fingers over screens, but he feels the ship slowing, halting a moment before shifting directions through the vacuum of space. Gepard collapses back in his seat as they set off once more.
“I do have one question, though.” Sampo tenses, making Gepard quick to finish his thought. “Are all Masked Fools’ Taverns… like that?” Sampo’s laughter is a cackle, his head thrown back. It’s soothing, comforting, familiar. Gepard’s smile is uncontrollable as Sampo looks back over his shoulder and smirks at him.
“I promise you, they are not,” he snorts. He hums a moment, rolling his shoulders. “Some of ‘em are just as unhinged as that, yes. That’s one of the worst, though. All a bunch of old fashioned Fools! None of them know how to really have fun, I assure you. Some other Taverns, though… they can be a lot of fun.”
“We should visit one. A good one.” Gepard tacks on quickly when Sampo wrinkles his nose at him, clearly teasing by the way he rolls his eyes. “Of course. Some of ‘em make some amazing cocktails! Ones you can have, by the way. Maybe in Epsilon, but… well, no, actually. Epsilon tends to have some half decent Fools in it, but they’d still try and, uh, bamboozle you.”
“Sounds like fun,” Gepard says drily, pointedly rolling his eyes when Sampo wrinkles his nose at him. Sampo continues on with a hum, looking up at the softly passing stars. “Uh… where could I… oh! I could take you to Avalon!”
“Is that a Tavern?”
“Yep! The tavernkeeper isn’t actually a Masked Fool. She owns it though, I think she won the place in a game of blackjack? I don’t know, that’s what her husband told me. I met the Queen through him, actually. He’s some former knight or whatever--the most populated planet in that galaxy has some sort of monarchy thing going on, I dunno. But he’s a clutz and I stole from him at one point. He carries a lot of credits on him at all times. But then he just gave it to me and invited me to dinner! I thought he was coming on to me and considering how much cash he had… but uh, anyways. I haven’t seen the Queen in ages! Last I saw her she said she was gonna take over the galaxy system her Tavern is in, and uh, honestly I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“She’s a Queen?”
“Well… I dunno. We all just called her that. She’s scary so no one questions it-- in a good way! A good kind of scary, I promise.”
“I’m not doubting you,” Gepard chuckles, “I’m just… it’s nice, hearing about people you know, places you’ve been. Before, I mean.”
“Before Jarilo?” He says it with a scoff, but Gepard can hear the fond tone in his voice. It makes his chest warm, a sort of contentment settling in his bones. Sampo likes to complain about it, the constant cold, the standoffish people in Belobog, the loss of his criminal history, but Gepard knows better. He sees it in the way he asks about Serval, questions if Gepard has heard how Natasha is doing, how his city is holding up in his absence. It’s obvious in the way Sampo’s ramblings have started to center around Belobog and the Underworld.
Sampo still pretends that he won't return, sometimes. That there's nothing left for him, that Gepard's planet doesn't have any reason for him to stay. Gepard knows it's not true, even now. Especially now. Because Gepard will always be there, wanting him. No matter how long Sampo has wandered the universe or what he's done before, who he was before.
“You know,” Gepard whispers, a secret. “Giovanni said something. Interesting things.”
“Giovanni.” Sampo hisses his name like a curse, slamming his fist on the control panels. The ship lurches to the side just slightly before Sampo corrects it. “That bastard! I can't believe he just left you there! Oh, if Gio thinks he'll get any favours out of Sampo Koski--”
“He said you're old,” Gepard continues, “well, kind of. That you've been around a long time. That time is… Strange, throughout the universe.” He pauses to watch Sampo, to see how he forces himself to relax, shuffling In his chair. “...and that you're old.”
“Don't worry.” Sampo's voice is a hushed tone. his expression as he looks back at Gepard isn't quite apologetic, Isn't quite sad. “I've been careful! Planned the routes out perfectly. Time won't escape you back in Belobog.”
It isn't what Gepard means. They both know it. That Gepard wants to know Sampo, to peel him back and see who he is, what more there is to him. Sampo is infinite, varied; Gepard feels like he could spool through what makes him him forever. He wonders, sometimes, if he can know him fully, if even Sampo knows the entirety of himself. He wonders, and finds it doesn't change how he feels.
“I love you,” Gepard says, because it's forcing its way out of him, from the depths of him. Because it's true. Sampo's smile is blinding, his ears starting to burn red. “Love you too, you softy.”
He hums, thinking a moment. “...what else did Gio say?”
“That he's surprised you could settle down with me, I think?”
“I'm going to murder him next I see him.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
#sampard#sampo koski#gepard landau#honkai star rail#fanfiction#in the bones#sampo is an emanator ofc in this. and it makes him freaky#theres a lot of like. hc type shit in this#also the 'green chapel' is a reference to gawain and the green knight#and the queen and her husband at the end are the fae queen and lanval in the lais lanval by marie de france#and like. avalon. ofc.#uhhhh what else did i shove in here. theres prob more but i dont remember#also this is 9317 words. i thought it was 6k. what the fuck#im postin it here in like . an embarassed anxious way before postin to ao3. since its so long#oh OALSO ALSO. i was torn between naming the tavern the green chapel. for the fae/green knight reference. or 'happy trail' from mp.100#cuz that was funny to me
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Okay hear me out on this, Wally with a romantic partner who is colour blind. Like they could see colour when they were younger so they know what colours are but once they grew older everything faded into greys, whites, and blacks. Bonus points if the only colours they see are on Wally and they (the reader) say something cheesy like 'you bring colour into my life'
Beginning Notes: Oooh!! This one is very interesting! As an artist who can see so many colours and shades, I could never imagine what would happen to me if all of it just suddenly dissipated! :°[ I think this will be particularly fun to try out though! It's a great scenario, and I'll do my best to deliver. Thank you for the great request, dear neighbour!
Warnings: Nothin' really! Just good vibes around :°]
Wally x Colourblind!Reader
(Romantic)
Your eyes focused on the bouquet in front of you, intensely glaring at each of the individual petals with the sharpest glare you've ever given anything in your life.
You were trying really hard, but your attempts all ending up fruitless. The dull boquet was suddenly pulled out of view by a familiarly bright and colourful hand. You turned to face the figure with a questioning gaze.
"If I had known you didn't like roses, I would have gotten you a different gift ha ha! " Wally bantered, patting the velvety petals with his felty hand.
"No, I love them! I was just doing the thing again," you replied, frantically trying to save his feelings. Though Wally wasn't hurt. He knew exactly what you were doing, even before you explained yourself, and it was somewhat amusing.
Anyone else entering Home for the first time would probably be shocked by the enormous array of colours everywhere. The vast amount of hues would certainly be blinding to anyone who just arrived, but when you first arrived, it looked like nothing special to you. Everything was just the same. Black and grey with hints of white.
You didn't even notice you were in a whole different universe until you felt the soft and cushiony terrain. You did initially think it was strange how some of the shapes seemed to be somewhat exaggerated, such as flowers looking rounder and hills looking cleaner than they were supposed to.
The first creature of sorts you met while wandering around was a dog named Barnaby, and you did freak out a bit at first, but you got over it relatively quickly when he offered to find you help. He took you around "Home" and introduced you to everyone, but when you got to the last resident, you couldn't stop yourself from jumping in surprise. You stared at him intently.
You were in such awe.
The resident in question being Wally, of course. He only stared back at you, not saying a word. You stood there for about a minute before he said his first words to you:
"You blinked! I win!"
You were confused at first but then realized he must have thought you were having a staring contest. That was honestly not a bad guess at what you'd really been doing.
Throughout the whole day, Wally couldn't help but notice the peeks and glances you stole his way. He knew he was handsome, but he didn't think it would be that distracting. Though, now that he thought about it, he did have a tendency to stare at himself in the mirror for hours at a time, so maybe it wasn't such a farfetched reaction.
Still, he felt the need to ask you about it just to be sure. You were embarrassed at first, but you felt like he deserved to know considering how rude it must have looked from an outsider's perspective.
You explained your whole colourblind situation, telling him that when you were a kid you could distinctly remember seeing every shade of the rainbow, but as the years passed, it all started fading away. At first, you'd been devastated to hear that you'd never be able to see colour again, but you learned to cope with this loss.
It still hurt you to think of it sometimes, sure, but you dealt with it by just imagining the missing colours in place of the dull, dark shades you saw.
"What do you imagine when you stare at me?" He asked you, curiously. Wally only knew one other person with colourblindness, which happened to be Barnaby, but even Barnaby could see some semblance of colours. He was intrigued by your situation and even felt bad for you. You seemed so sad when you were explaining your condition to him.
"That's the thing," you began, grabbing his hand, tracing your fingers over his palm carefully. You were simply baffled by this unique circumstance. "I can see your colours for some reason."
Wally was surprised, not sure what to say at that moment. He felt a bit special, thinking about your words over and over. While the both of you did not understand the reason you could see only his colours, neither of you wanted to question it. You cherished it dearly.
From thereon out, you two became very close. Wally didn't mind you staring at him every few minutes. He encouraged it, really. You would both often test out little experiments you had in mind such as putting red paint on him to see if it would show up, though, it did not... But even with this experiment dismissed, you still liked to put on some red lipstick and smooch Wally's cheek, usually saying how you wanted to just 'make sure' your results didn't change.
He knew you were lying, you were terrible at it, but he didn't mind.
He would frequently catch you staring intensely at certain things such as flowers or crayons. Wally learned that this was like a little guessing game to you. After you guessed the colour, you would usually ask Wally if you were correct, to which he would either confirm or deny your guess. Though, he did lie sometimes and say you were right. He just couldn't stand to see your disappointed face when you found out you were wrong.
Plus, everytime you did a good job, he was allowed to place gold stars on your forehead! Win-win!
Wally was sure you were guessing what colours the roses were this time and handed them out to you. "So what colour do you think they are?" He asked, sitting himself down next to you.
You let out a laugh and rested your head on his shoulder, setting the bouquet aside. "I don't need to know."
Wally looked over to you, tilting his head quizically. He's never had this response before, so naturally he was just a little confused with you. You loved this game! Maybe you were bored of it now??
You turned to face him and stared into his eyes. "You're the only set of colours I love to see." You gave him a peck on the mouth. Wally's expression was now that of surprise. "Hey, you're red now!"
He laughed at your comment and cupped your face. "I just can't get enough of you, dear." You leaned into his touch and smiled joyfully. Wally reciprocated your kiss and gave you a warm embrace. He leaned back to look at you and couldn't help but giggle at your reaction.
"Hey, you're red now, too!"
End.
End notes: Oh dear, I feel like this is way too short! :°[ I'm going to probably expand on this idea more later on! I really love your scenario and feel like I've misplaced some really great potential! Now... I usually follow intuition and reread my stories to see if there's anything else I can expand on, but I just can't quite put my fluffy finger on it! I promise I will find out what the problem is and get back to you again! With a longer story this time!
Apologies, dear neighbour!
I hope this shorter-than-usual story will suffice for the moment!
#welcome home imagines#welcome home x you#welcome home x reader#welcome home imagine#welcome home x y/n#welcomr home arg#welcome home wally x reader#wally darling x reader#wally darling x you#wally x reader#wally darling imagines#wally darling imagine#wally darling x y/n#wally darling#wh#welcome home fanfic#welcomeh#wally darling fanfic#welcome home wally darling#welcome home wally#wh wally#wh wally darling
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Hey hey, dear queen! If you have the time and energy, would you mind writing about Fem!Reader being stressed/burned out with Crosshair. Maybe she works a job + the work she is doing with the batch. She's cranky out of energy and when Crosshair complains about that, she snaps/has a breakdown of sorts? How would he react? I wouldn't mind if you did the rest of the batchers in this scenario too, but I know you got much on your plate right now, so I picked my favorite 😊 thanks dear!
Aloha!
Oh dear, you have no idea how relatable this is for me these days 😵
I do have a lot on my plate, that's true. And I'm really late with all the requests, I'm sorry. Hm, let me see...
The Bad Batch x Reader - Burnout
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort/Burnout
___________
Life is especially tough right now, with multiple jobs, little to no free time, and too little sleep. This not only affects the body, but also the mood. Of course, your Batcher notices that something is wrong with you.
____________
Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)
____________
>Master List<
Hunter
"What's wrong with you? You're so tense and impatient."
The way you quickly turn to look at him makes him pause, startled. Hunter is frozen in his movement and if you weren't so tense, you might find this sight, this moment, amusing.
You finally sigh and say, "I'm tired, and I want to finish here, stop dawdling."
Hunter frowns and resumes normal posture.
"We usually spend longer time loading equipment, chatting and stuff, don't we? Spend time together. When did you stop caring about that?"
He looks crestfallen, and you're sorry for reacting so harshly.
"Hunter, I have more jobs than just this one, I barely have any free time and I just want to go home today, as much as I usually enjoy spending this time here with you. If I miss public transportation again, I'm going to sit around here even longer."
Hunter blinks then sighs softly, of course he understands.
"You're going to break yourself" he says reprovingly and takes the box you just picked up from you, puts it down and reaches for your arm.
Hunter pulls you with him to his speeder.
"We're not done yet," you say, protesting.
"You're done here, I can do the rest on my own," he insists, getting on and waving you over, "Come on, jump on, I'll give you a ride home."
"But-"
"No arguments, get on."
You do as you're told and mumble a small thank you to him, ashamed that you've been barking at him.
You hear him laugh softly and say, "No problem, now hold on tight".
Echo
You don't even have to tell him that you are overworked, he already knows that you have more than one job and that you don't sleep enough. The reproachful look he gives you slowly drives you crazy.
"What's your problem, Echo? Why the hell are you looking at me like that all the time?"
He snorts and says, "I'm waiting for you to keel over at any moment."
Surprised, you pause.
"What?"
"You want me to spell it out? You heard me the first time."
You grab his arm and turn him around to face you as he continues to work.
"Excuse me, mister, what's your problem?"
He pulls away, grabs you by your upper arms and urges you onto a crate, so you can sit down. Echo looks at you so urgently that you forget for a long moment how your voice actually works.
"You need to quit one of your jobs, you can't go on like this. You have rings under your eyes, you're agitated and restless, you seem rushed and overtired. I hope you don't quit this one, but one has to go. Eventually you'll fold, and the thought of you beating yourself up like that makes me angry - that's my problem."
Echo will not back down, no matter how you squirm and argue. He means well and is extremely stubborn and unyielding about it. Don't get into big discussions, you can't win against Echo.
Wrecker
He doesn't notice it as quickly as Echo, but he will notice it. Of course, he's concerned and gets to the bottom of it.
"You want to tell me what's going on with you?" he asks you as you load the equipment.
You look at him questioningly and pick up the next box.
"What's supposed to be going on?"
Wrecker shrugs his broad shoulders and says, "Well, you seem really beat, tired. You're slower than usual, your eyes are all small, so either you've taken some drugs or you've barely slept."
You sigh softly and laugh humorlessly.
"I don't do drugs"
"That's what I thought" Wrecker says directly "So you're not sleeping enough, because you've been having that a lot lately"
"Yeah, my second job is more demanding than I thought"
"A second job huh?"
You nod and grab the next box, but Wrecker takes it out of your hand.
"Today I'm doing this alone" he says sternly.
"But-"
"Don't argue, you're overworked," he growls.
"But-"
"No, not today."
Wrecker will take as much off your hands as he can, but he'll also point out that you're only one person, and can't work for three.
"If you're short on credits we can pool, but credits won't do you any good at all if you wreck yourself."
Tech
He stops in the middle of your work and watches you. Suddenly you hear him sigh. When you look at him, he shakes his head. You are overtired, feeling drained, and already feel that you have no patience today, but you look at him and ask as calmly as you can, "What is it, Tech?"
He shakes his head again and says, "You are particularly slow and sluggish today, our teamwork is not very effective today thanks to you."
Somewhat tense, you say, "My deepest apologies," and continue working.
Tech frowns, adjusts his goggles with his right index finger and asks, "That sounded irritated. Are you irritated?"
You suppress a sigh and say as neutrally as possible, knowing he's not to blame for your condition, "I'm trying not to be."
"So you are?"
Now you do sigh and put down the box of equipment you just picked up.
"Yes, Tech. Can we move on now, please?"
Tech blinks a few times, then resumes. He tries not to tease you further or ask questions for now. But after work, on his way to the barracks, he passes the public transportation stop where he sees you sitting. You are sitting next to the station, your face in your hands. As he gets closer, he hears you sobbing softly. You look up startled from reddened eyes as he says your name.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, puzzled.
"Missed my ride. Now I'm sitting here for an hour, an hour I can't get back."
Tech blinks and asks, "And that's a reason to cry?"
"When you have multiple jobs, no free time, and barely any time to sleep, yes, that is a reason to cry"
His brows move up in surprise.
"Hence the sluggishness and irritability, now I understand the connections, I had wondered" he says quietly.
"Good for you," you say dryly.
Tech disappears for a moment, not two minutes later, however, he is back with his speeder.
"May I offer to drive you home?"
You wipe the tears from your face and laugh.
"That would be awesome, Tech"
As you climb up behind him, he says, "You need to cut back, get rid of at least one of the jobs"
"You say that so easily"
Tech raises his famous finger and says, "How about we sit down at your place and work it all out, find a better option for you?"
You yawn but nod, "Yeah, that might not be a bad idea"
"It is, after all, one of my ideas"
Crosshair
You've been tense all the time today, giving curt answers and even seeming a bit disoriented now and then, as if you had to rearrange yourself. Crosshair observes this critically for quite a while, but says nothing at first. But when you try to put the wrong clip into the blaster for the third time, he's had enough.
"What the hell is wrong with you? That's the wrong mag!"
Crosshair takes the magazine out of your hand and gives you the right one.
You snort in annoyance and say, "Happens to everyone."
"No," he insists, "You usually know these things off the top of your head."
You snap back, "I'm just tired, okay, just let me get on with it"
"You've been beside yourself all day" Crosshair grumbles.
You lower the gun belt you were about to equip and say, "It's just a shitty day today"
"Why?"
"I'm tired"
"You said that already. But why is that? Bad dreams or something?"
He can tell you're about to snap, he's just not sure yet if you're going to fold or freak out. Of course, he notices how hard it is for you to keep it together.
"I have several jobs, not just this one," you finally admit, "Lots of work, hardly any sleep. Every single one of these jobs is pretty demanding in one way or another. My batteries just don't charge anymore"
"Then you have to quit at least one job. It doesn't work like that, you can't go on like that in the long run."
You throw your arms in the air and say, "But I need the credits"
"So you're in a financial bind?"
You pull your shoulders up helplessly.
"Still can't go on like this, you're going to drop dead on me here one of these days, and I'm not cleaning up the mess".
You laugh softly and say, "How empathetic."
"Shall we go over your finances together? Maybe I'll see something you overlooked, a loophole, or a better option in general"
You are so moved, you could almost cry.
"Okay, now don't start crying," Crosshair says immediately, "It's just paperwork, I didn't propose or anything."
You laugh again and finally nod.
"Okay, I'd like to accept that offer."
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#star wars#tbb#the bad batch#clone force 99#sw tbb#tech#tbb tech#crosshair#clonelove#bad batch tech#hunter#echo#wrecker#clone trooper echo#echo bad batch#echo tbb#echo x reader#tbb echo#the bad batch echo#bad batch hunter#hunter bad batch#hunter tbb#clone trooper hunter#hunter x reader#hunter x you#sergeant hunter#tbb wrecker#wrecker tbb#wrecker bad batch#bad batch
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Don't Leave Me
Ravio x LU Legend (Ravioli)
Summary: Ravio decides to tidy up their house a bit. Legend disappears to his room, as per usual, to do Goddess knows what. Ravio thinks nothing of it, until he hears the tell-tale sounds of his partner having a breakdown.
Word count: 1,650
Warnings: Grief, Legend has Koholint Trauma, hurt/comfort (but mostly fluff), writer projects her low self-esteem onto Ravio (shhhh it’s fine don’t worry about it), baby’s first time writing gay men
A/N: Hello, Ravioli fandom! Uhhh this is my first time posting my writing (ignore the cringefics I wrote on Wattpad when I was twelve coughs awkwardly), so any positive reinforcement/constructive criticism is not only welcome but encouraged! Also, not only is this my first time writing this sort of content, I myself am not part of the LGBTQ+ community. If I get something wrong, please tell me.
I was just kinda in the mood for these two when I realized I’ve already read all the content. Basically I had the “fine I’ll do it myself” moment that all writers have at some point. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Love you all!
----
Ravio hummed contently, arranging the dishes in a neat pile on the counter. He ignored the various crumbs scattered across it. Instead, he picked up the duster, reached in the cabinet, and swept up the film of particles. He poked it into a corner, and in response, received a small tink. Ravio tilted his head curiously and delicately brushed the object into view. It was another ring- not cursed, thankfully, but horrifyingly unpolished. Ravio reached in to pocket the trinket that had gone so long without care, and continued his chore with a cheery whistle.
But what was that? A sharp rustling sound, followed by… coughing, perhaps? Ravio’s ears pricked; he paused. Sheerow, playing around in some empty boxes? Ravio's brow furrowed. No, the sounds were human in origin. His eyes widened when a soft whimper reached his ears. Legend!
Ravio dropped the duster. He scrambled out of the kitchen and down by the hallway, skidding to a stop by the closed door to their shared room. He knocked timidly, calling out, “Mister Hero?”
No response.
“...Link, please. You know I'll come in even if you don't answer.”
The silence only made Ravio more scared. He would take a “Get lost, Ravio” or a “Leave me alone, Idiot” over this. This quiet meant his Link was drowning in some way Ravio was still struggling to understand, let alone help heal, no matter how desperately he wished he could.
He opened the door anyway.
Ravio peeked inside, and almost immediately his heart sank. Legend was in the middle of the room, hunched over something that Ravio couldn't see. His shoulders were trembling with silent sobs. It was always a stab in the gut for Ravio, to see him like this. It hurt, but he had to ignore it. For Legend's sake.
Ravio made sure his footsteps were easily heard. Legend didn't flinch, twist, or jump. Either he expected his entrance, or he was so deeply buried in his emotions that he didn't notice him. Ravio shuddered at the thought.
The Lolian sat beside the hero, careful not to make any sudden movements. He reached out, touching the other’s shoulder lightly. Legend inhaled sharply, provoking a violent bout of coughing. He shied away from Ravio’s touch, eyeing him warily. He clutched what looked like a sketchbook close to his chest.
“Hey,” Ravio said softly. “You can trust me. Remember?”
Legend squeezed his eyes shut, curling further in on himself. His breathing stuttered, and this time Ravio could see the tears spill from his eyes. He felt an ache in his chest, reaching again for Legend's arm. This time he didn't pull away as his hand rested on his shoulder, tracing little half-circles with his thumb. Ravio didn't dare do more, lest he worsen Legend's state.
“Please, tell me what’s bothering you,” Ravio whispered. “I want to help.”
Legend still didn’t speak. Worry made Ravio’s heart beat as rapidly as a rabbit’s twitching nose. Abandoning all caution, Ravio nuzzled his head in the crook of Legend’s neck, puring as much love into the gesture as possible. Hopefully it would snap him out of his sorrow.
It didn’t. Legend stared sightlessly ahead, his eyes glassy with tears.
“Link…” Ravio pleaded. “Say something.”
Legend blinked, turning to look at Ravio as though just noticing his presence. He loosened his grip on the sketchbook, his breath hitching as he let Ravio see.
The drawing was of a woman, the invisible wind tossing her long dress and fluid hair to the side. A large flower of a deep shade pinned some of it back. Her posture was welcoming and bright, but the face… Something was off. The features didn't seem to fit. They just felt wrong.
Legend hugged the drawing back to his chest, shaking again with suppressed sobs. “I'm forgetting her,” he choked out. “I c-can’t remember her eyes. I'm losing her.”
Ravio swallowed hard. He tried not to feel spite, he really tried. But how was he supposed to comfort him when all he was was Marin’s replacement?
Ravio felt himself withdraw his hands. He was suddenly unsure, watching Legend mourn the love that came before him. Now he felt guilty for intruding. Legend must think him inadequate, a second-rate substitute.
“Oh,” Ravio finally said, lips dry and numb. “S-Sorry. I didn't mean to- I'll just-”
Ravio cut himself off, standing suddenly with the intent to leave the veteran alone. To remove himself as a burden. Yet he never had the chance. To his bewilderment, Legend had grabbed his wrist, his grasp like a vice and his gaze just as intent. Desperate, even.
“Don't leave me,” he whispered.
Ravio blanked. Baffled at his words, Ravio wondered why he would want him of all people to remain. He was just a reminder of someone far more precious; nothing more, no one special. But when he heard Legend croak the single word, “Stay,” in a voice so vulnerable, so scared, Ravio slowly sat down again, concern still lacing his every thought and emotion.
Immediately, Legend's arms surrounded him, pulling him close and forcing a small startled squeak from his lips. The Hylian gripped him tight, holding him like a man would a piece of flotsam adrift in a sea wracked with tempests. Legend buried his face in Ravio's dark curls. His actions were almost protective, in a way, and Ravio found himself melting into his embrace. Part of him was still in denial that Legend didn't want him to leave, but when Legend took Ravio's sudden lack of tension as a signal to bring him even closer, those doubts evaporated. Tucked in Legend's arms, he felt a reassurance that he hadn't felt in years. You're safe now, the touch said. You'll never hurt again, because I'll protect you.
Except… Lolia. It wasn't hurt, was it? It was disappear.
Legend was making sure Ravio didn't disappear.
Legend was making sure he didn't disappear.
Ravio promptly burst into tears. Unlike Legend, who was quiet and subtle, Ravio sobbed hard enough he was sure the goddess could hear him. He hiccuped and he sniffled, unable to control the wave of emotions that came crashing down on him.
Of course, Legend's natural reaction was to panic. “Ravio, what happened?” he exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?”
His hands flew to his chest in an obvious display of how startled he was. Ravio's instinct was to pout at the sudden lack of contact. Instead, he hugged him around the middle and laughed wetly. “It's nothing.”
Legend's bloodshot eyes met Ravio's own moist ones. Something akin to worry flashed across his expression, but was quickly overtaken by a pink tint dusting his cheeks. “Stop it, then,” he sputtered.
Ravio merely hugged him tighter. Legend hesitated before digging his fingers in Ravio's silly hair. “I didn't think you'd want me here,” Ravio mumbled, his voice muffled from burying his face in Legend's tunic. “I thought I was making it worse.”
Ravio was quickly flabbergasted at his own boldness. His throat was dry as he stammered, “I-I didn't mean to say that! I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted- I-”
“Ravio.”
Ravio met the hero's eyes and immediately realized he had overstepped. Link's dark, violet eyes were as intense as ever, glaring at him with such a ferocity that wasn't typically directed at him. If he wasn't afraid five seconds ago, he was now. His ears tilted downwards.
“Don't you ever say that again,” Link growled, “or I'll kick you out, for good this time.”
First, Link's words surprised him. Then, they made him so unbelievably happy. He hiccuped out another sob as he squeezed Link's torso tighter, a wide, giddy smile spreading across his face that was so big it hurt. “Promise?” he whispered.
Link snorted. “Don't push it. I might just throw you out anyway.”
Despite the rough words, Ravio's heart soared. He never really meant it (probably), and it meant he was back to normal. No longer lost in the anguish of mourning. Not only that- Ravio wasn't a burden. Somehow, he didn't mess up. And he was so, so happy.
“Thank you,” he finally sighed. “I'm glad you're back.”
“Sap.”
“I am!” Ravio protested with a laugh.
“I know. That still makes you a sap, Rodent,” Legend retorted. He hesitated, toying absently with Ravio's hair. It felt good. He liked it. “But… yeah. I… I needed that. Thanks. I guess.”
“Awwww,” Ravio cooed teasingly. “That was so sweet of you, Mister Hero!”
“Oh, Goddess forbid I show any positive emotion around you!” Ravio could practically feel Legend's eye roll. “Never mind, I take it back! Maybe I should kick you out.”
Ravio shifted so he could look up at the hero, his head in his lap. “You wouldn't, though.”
Legend raised a brow.
Ravio gave him his best puppy-dog eyes.
Legend swatted at him. Ravio yelped as the Hylian shoved him off his lap, a badly suppressed grin on his face.
“Okay, okay! I get it!” Ravio giggled, jumping to his feet. He laughed at the hero's oh-so-grumpy expression. It went well with his flushed cheeks.
“Get back to work, you freeloader,” Legend scoffed. “I don't keep you around to be obnoxious.”
“Your pink ears say otherwise,” Ravio pointed out smugly.
“Ravio!”
That was his cue. Ravio made his escape, twirling out the door and shutting it on the red-faced Hylian. Legend didn't follow. He didn't follow because he cared. Lolia, he cared!
Sheerow was waiting for him outside, fluttering lightly on the breeze drifting in from the open window. Ravio greeted the bird with a warm “Hello, Sheerow”, and opened his palm to offer a space for him to land. His companion complied, perching on his fingers, who in turn tickled the top of his head with a finger.
“Come on, Sheerow,” he said, bouncing, almost skipping, towards the kitchen where he had abandoned his project. “Let's get back to work.”
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#loz#albw#a link between worlds#albw ravio#lu legend#lu ravio#lu legend x ravio#ravioli#ravioli ship#raviolink#so many tags ugh#linked universe legend#linked universe ravio#mine don't steal
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Heart to Heart
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x sick!Reader
Summary: Your weak heart has kept you up all night once more and Aleksander is forced to face the fact that the person he loves is still mortal.
Warnings: sick and insecure (and slightly self-sacrificing) reader, conversations about death, the rest is just fluff, I think
Word Count: 1.5k
Authors note: I'm still alive. I'm sorry for taking such a long break without explaining why. I didn't really go online at all for a month because some things came up at the end of december that didn't really leave me alone until very recently. I'll try my best to not repeat this and start working my way through my missed notifications soon.
I'm not a native English speaker, and this isn't really edited at all. The title is from Heart to Heart by Mac DeMarco
When Aleksander wakes in the morning the first thing he notices, before he even fully realizes that he is awake and has to get up, is that he is alone.
Your side of the bed is cold and he curses quietly, fully aware of what this means. He can feel his heart rate shoot up, adrenaline rushing through his body as his thoughts take the worst turn. Quickly standing up he gets dressed for the day, trying his hardest to calm his mind. You're alright. Someone would've notified him if something bad had happened while he was asleep. One of his guards would've woken him up.
He knows this like the back of his hand, yet he pauses as soon as his hand wraps around the cold metal knob of the door that leads into the living room of your shared quarters. His mind is trying to prepare him for the worst. Prepare him to find your dead body curled in on itself on the sofa in front of a cold fireplace, all alone.
He has always hated this habit of yours. This obsession with keeping his day as peaceful as possible, of never bothering him with anything, has led to you refusing to tell him when something is wrong. You've been sick for almost your whole life, your heart a bit weaker than it should be, and every time you have issues with it during the night you leave your shared bed to hide away in a different room to make sure you won't disturb his sleep.
Many times has he asked you to stop, to wake him up so he can help make you more comfortable or call a heartrender to help you in case something is seriously wrong, but you just won't listen. You're trying to protect him from the pain of seeing you suffer, he understands that, but it makes no sense to him. Why are you, a mortal little otkazat'sya, so obsessed with protecting him, an ancient being who most people would argue has lost his humanity centuries ago if they truly knew him as a person?
Most... except you. You have found out about his true nature, about the darkness sleeping in his chest in the place where his soul should sit, and decided that he was worth loving. You saw and embraced all of him, the beautiful and kind, but also the cruel and ugly.
You. A small, mortal otkazat'sya with a sick heart.
The closest thing to a soulmate he thinks he will ever get.
With a last deep breath he finally opens the door and lets his eyes glide through the room, and he can feel his heart jump when he finds you carefully sipping on a cup of tea while sitting in front of a warm, burning fire, gaze focused on the snow silently falling outside.
Your head turns when you hear the door open, eyes lighting up when you see your husband.
"Oh, I'm glad to see you're awake. I sorted your folder for the meeting with the king and his advisors today. I hope I didn't mess up one of your weird sorting system though. I know you have your own way of doing things, but I thought this could-"
Your voice cuts off as soon as he reaches you on the sofa, quickly kneeling down in front of you before pressing his head against your chest. He knows your heart is beating, but he has to hear it right now. Has to hear the soft, familiar rhythm to calm his own heart and reassure him that this is all real, that he isn't dreaming.
You don't continue speaking after the surprise of his sudden movement dies down, instead mowing your hands up to run softly over his head while he listens to your heart pump blood through your body.
It still speeds up when he's close. You're glad it does.
You sit like this for a while, your fingers carefully moving to comb through his thick, ink black hair and loosening any knots that may have formed while he slept alone.
"I told you to stop disappearing." You finally hear him whisper after a few quiet minutes, arms still wrapped tightly around your middle while his head stays pressed against your chest.
"I know, Sasha... but it just wouldn't stop. I wanted to stay with you, but the pain wouldn't go away. I couldn't breathe right because of my own fear, so I kept coughing and it was so loud. I didn't want to wake you in the night before your meeting. I promise, if I felt like things were going to end last night, I would've woken you up."
You can feel the way his arms clench around you. You know how much he hates thinking about your death, how helpless and weak the simple fact that you will die makes him feel.
"Stop talking about it. It won't happen."
"Sasha, please, I know you don't want to think about losing me, but we have to make plans for-"
"No. I've created the fold, milaya. I will not let you die. I won't let it happen, even if I have to break the laws of nature once more. I will not let you leave this world without me. I refuse to lose another person. I can't be alone again, can't lose you too. I will not watch as the universe takes another person from me and leaves me alone to pick up the pieces of my broken heart. Not again. I can't do it again. You can't ask me to. You can't."
"I don't care about the king and I don't care about my rest." He hisses before finally lifting his ear from your chest, dark eyes looking up at you. "And I'm starting to hate your heart for keeping you up at night, for hurting you like this."
A soft smile finds its way onto your lips as you map out every freckle on his skin, every small wrinkle and every pore on his eternally beautiful face.
He never says it out loud but it's clear that it frustrates him more than anything that he can't fight the thing that is harming you. There is no enemy to slay, to throat to slit, no king to overthrow. He can't rip your heart out of your body and give you a painless, happy life that way. All he can do is hope that the medicine prescribed to you by the best doctors he can pay for will help and that the corporalki order will keep an eye on you.
This is entirely out of his control, and it's probably the worst feeling in the world for him.
"Hey, this heart is filled to the brim with love for you, don't be mean." You chastise playfully, grinning when you see Aleksander roll his eyes before moving to sit next to you on the couch. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you breathe in his familiar smell and let it soothe your soul. He still smells a bit like the soap the servants use to clean your bedsheets, with an underlying sweetness that comforts you like nothing else ever could. He smells like home, like belonging.
"I need you to swear that you will get me no matter what is wrong. Even if it's just a weird feeling in your chest, you need to wake me or come to me, please. That's all I ask of you, my love. All I want. I can't do my job as your husband and make you feel better if I don't know that something is wrong."
You think about it for a few seconds, mind replaying every other time you've had this conversation with him. This time is different though. He's not mad or upset, there are no tears in his eyes, he isn't even shaking. He just sounds calm, with a hint of pain in his voice, as if an old wound is giving him issues again.
Slowly you nod, arms wrapping around him as you snuggle closer to him.
"I promise I'll wake you Aleksander. I swear it. No matter what it is. I will wake you up or go find you."
Looking up at him you see the way his eyes shine at your words before he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your lips, movements careful as if he thinks you might break if he kisses you too forcefully. The only thought you have is how much you don't want to lose this. How much you want to stay with your husband.
You've accepted that you will die early years ago. Born into a simple family, you had no chance to truly survive long. You've already made it further than you should've. But being with Aleksander has made you greedy, his own ambition leading you to play with your own what-if scenarios. He convinced you to start dreaming again.
And the only dream you have is one of a world where you will never have to leave him behind, even if that means breaking the laws of nature.
Taglist: @snowkestrel
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Rescue from the Rescue
A platonic! Puss-in-boots and Perrito x reader
Summary: Working as a helper at Mama Lunas isn't always easy, and unexpected things can happen. Though, you never though meeting a Spanish-speaking cat and a dog dressed as a cat would be one of those things.
(An: This request was orginally for a younger niece or nephew of Mama Luna, but I didn't want to make it too gender specific (and I couldn't for the love of me figure out how to make a realistic family tree for Luna) so I made the reader an occasional volunteer. Please enjoy!
🗡💛🗡💛🗡💛🗡💛🗡💛🗡💛🗡💛🗡💛
Sweep. Sweep. Sweep. The scratchy sound of the broom rings out as your broom glides across the floor, as bits of fur, spare litter, and kibble are swept up into the dustpan. You hum a soft tune, swaying in turn to the beat. "Oh, Little Helper, come here!" Mama Luna's voice rings out across the brightly colored casa. "Coming, Miss Luna." You prop the broom up against the wall, grabbing the dustpan and dumping the contents in the nearby trashcan. 'Don't want any of the cats trudging through this and undoing my work.' You think, placing the now empty pan back by the broom.
You hurry through the house, tiptoeing across persians, shorthairs, and tabbies as you attempt not to step on any tails. You step into the living and sigh in relief, having dodged all the cats. Mama Luna sits in her rocking chair, knitting what appears to be yet another pair of cat mittens. "Oh, come here child." She waves you over, eyes not leaving the yarn project in front of her. "I'm planting a catnip bush out by the garden, would ya' mind tilling the soil?" She asks, stopping to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. You nod, but pause with a grimace when you see the plethora of cats napping atop her ratty grey hair. "Yeah, sure. Do you know where the garden supplies are?" She waves a hand over in the direction of the backdoor. "Just check the bag by the door." As you step away, slipping at the back door, you hear her call. "Thank ya', Little Helper! I'll make ya a real nice sweater for this. You giggle a little, and shake your head.
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Stepping down the rickety steps of the porch, you enter the garden. Bright stone walls enclose the area, decked out with various hanging plants. The ground is carefully decorated with all sorts of colorful plants, from poinsettias to marigolds. You smile, remembering the first time you entered Mama Luna's garden, coming to ask for some Marigolds for your Dia De Los Muertos altar. Honestly, you have no idea she managed to keep this garden looking so nice before you came along, seeing as anytime you see her she's knitting or bathing cats.
Just as you begin looking for a trowl, your ears perk up at a nearby sound. "So, Pickles, what do you want to do today? I was thinking-" "WE are not going to do anything, Perrito. I am going to sun in el jardín." You watch in amazement as what appears to be a talking cat strolls into the garden, standing on two legs. Behind him follows a, cat? 'What is that thing?' You think, tilting your head in confusion. The scrawny creatures look less like a cat, and more like a rat in a feline costume. "Oh! Sunning, just like a real cat! I'll join you, maybe I can sun my belly." The little animal says. "Um, excuse me?" You say, stepping forward to make your princess known. The orange cat jumps in shock, dropping to stand on all-fours, while his companion lowers his head, and attempts to use his hood, which has a cat face poorly knitted on it. "Uh... meow?" The orange cat tries. You furrow your brows, before looking back toward the house in realisation.
"Oh, you're worried Mama Luna will hear you. I won't tell her anything, I promise." You place a hand on your chest and kneel down, reaching the orange tabby's height. "I'm Mama Luna's helper, I just stop by from time to time, helping her with chores and what not. And you are?" The cat hesitates, green eyes looking you over cautiously, before standing back on two legs and taking a dramtic bow. "I am known by many names, but you, pequeño ayudante, may call me Puss." You smile, amused. "But your tag says pick-" "I know what the tag says! That is simply the name given to me by the-" Puss shudders, and glances at the house. "Iady of the house." He finishes. As you nod, your attention is drawn to his friend behind him.
"Who's your friend, Puss?" You ask, looking at the strange sweatered animal. Puss sighs, gesturing weakly with a paw. "This is Perrito, and, he is not my friend." Puss explains, barley glancing at Perrito. "Perrito... the cat? That seems like an odd name." You feign confusion, slowly reaching for Perrito's hood. Suddenly, you flip it back, revealing the a small, scrappy looking dog. "A chihuaha?" You exclaim, as the dog yelps. "Oh! Please, please, please don't tell Mama Luna, I don't really go into the house, I live under the por-" Perrito goes on, frantically rambling about his living conditions under the porch. Puss scoffs, turning away from the dog and pressing a paw to his forehead. You, on the other hand, feel your smile drop at the pitiful little pup. "Hey, calm down, please?" You ask, putting your hands out in front of you. Perrito's rambling stops and he looks up at you. "I'm not gonna kick you out or anything, I promise. You're a stray, right?" He nods. "Look, I know Mama Luna probably wouldn't be to keen on keeping a dog, or letting a walk around talking and standing." You admit. Perrito and Puss watch, waiting for your next words. "But, I'm not Mama Luna, so I guess I'll have to let it slide." Puss smiles and nods with gratitude, while Perrito hops up in delight. "Oh wow! Can you believe it Puss? Now, I've gone from no friends, to two friends in one day!" Perrito exclaims, tail wagging back and forth.
"We aren't amigos, amigo." Puss retorts. "Look, I have to finish tilling the soil, Mama Luna wants some new plants going in over there." You point towards the northern end of the garden, to a small bare patch under a tree. "But, once I'm done, maybe you guys can tell me a bit about yourselves?" You suggest. "Wow, Okay! Hey, I'm really good at digging. I bet if I help, we can get done even quicker!" Perrito exclaims. Before you can even respond, he bounds over to the unused soil and begins to dig at a frantic pace. You chuckle to yourself, and look a Puss. "He's... a bit odd, no?" Puss says, tilting his head as he watches Perrito fall into a hole that he just dug. "I'll say. Y'know, I'm looking forward to learning more about you, Puss. It's not everyday I meet a talking cat." You say, looking to the ground sheepishly as you kick a pebble. "Well, it seems like Perrito could be at it for a while... why don't I just started with the story now, sí?"
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It's been several hours, much longer than you realize, since the three of you began to discuss your pasts. You were amazed to learn about the adventures of Puss. You couldn't imagine going through half the things he has. Not only that, but you didn't actually know cats had nine lives, you always assumed it was a myth. "So, I say to the man, 'That is the last time you'll cross Puss-in-boots!'" Puss exclaims, finishing a story. Perrito stands on his hind legs and claps, while you let out a loud cheer. You quickly cover your mouth to stifle the sound, realizing Mama Luna must be asleep. "Oh my god, w-what time is it?" You ask, looking up and realizing how dark it's gotten. "About 9:00, why?" Perrito asks. You hop up quickly, moving up the steps and towards the backdoor. "I need to pack up, I must've gotten carried away with your great story-telling puss." You compliment. Puss follows you in, but Perrito stops at the edge of the door. "Perrito, you sure you don't want to come in? Mama Luna's sight isn't what it used to be." You suggest Perrito smiles, but shakes his head. "Nah, I've got a cozy corner under the porch waiting for me, besides, the rats are probably expecting me back." He gives you a goodbye, and you smile sadly as the chihuaha scrambles under a lookse board of the porch, fall down under the porch with a 'pop'.
You hurry to begin the journey back home, tying your boots and avoiding cats as you grab your bag and coat. As you do a last minute chek, to ensure everything you need is with you, you see Puss out of the corner of your eye. He is stood leaning against the bottom of a bookshelf, seemingly conflicted. "Puss?" You ask softly. His head snaps up, and he looks at you. "Are you okay?" You ask. "Fine, just thinking is all." He says. You feel that there is something more, but simply turn away. As your hand moves to reach the door, he says one final thing.
"How often do you stop by?"
#cartoon x reader#x reader#dreamworks movies#puss in boots the last wish x reader#puss in boots the last wish#puss in boots#perrito#puss in boots x reader#perrito x reader#platonic scenario#gender neutral reader#reader insert#kitty softpaws#dreamworks x reader#perrito puss in boots#the last wish#shrek movie#dreamworks#mama luna#puss in boots movie
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Hunger Games Men as Taylor Swift Songs
Idk if this is kinda odd to post but I'm a person who loves music and every song I listen to paints a scene in my head and I've been getting super into hunger games lately so a lot of the songs I've been listening to have reminded me of the characters. Specifically, my delulu self can imagine being in certain romantic situations with them based on the situations happening in these songs. For the sake of continuity, we will use songs from Ms. Taylor. I wanna write little one shots inspired by these situations. I already wrote the Snow one today so maybe I'll continue.
tldr- these are Taylor swift songs that reminded me of what it might be like to be in a relationship with these characters.
Peeta Mellark
Jump Then Fall- Taylor Swift, Fearless
"The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet, I'll catch you"
Honestly I was thinking 'Mine' at first but I felt like Peeta HAD to have a song off of Fearless. He is the human embodiment of sunshine to me and Fearless as an album is gold, bright, and holds a theme of puppy love throughout it. All of those things just SCREAM Peeta Mellark to me. 'Jump Then Fall' is a song that is relatively vague in terms of story telling lyrics but it is about loving someone and being happy just to see them happy and wanting to be there for your partner no matter what. I feel like Peeta is that kind of ride or die lover. Even after the capital had brainwashed him into hating Katniss he still found his way back into loving her again anyways. He is a lover you can trust. He truly would stick through it all so it's okay to 'Jump Then Fall'.
(Story Idea: Kinda toying with a cute little fluff where the reader and Peeta are going swimming at a lake or something. I have another idea for him too but it's apart of the Finnick X Reader X Peeta story I'm theorizing)
Gale Hawthorn
Better man- Taylor Swift, Red
"But your jealousy, I can hear it now talking down to me like I'd always be around you push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun, you never thought I'd run."
Firstly, Red is my favorite album. Sorry had to get that out of the way.
Gale honestly, ugh there was so much potential here. I think as the movies progressed he started to lose his empathy and grew a more selfish shell. Better Man really reminds me of what Katniss might have been thinking with him. He would've been the one if he was a better man.
(Story idea: reader contemplating their relationship with Gale a month or two after the break up and reliving the memories of the past that are gloomy and haunted over by the fact that, Gale really wasn't ready for a relationship. They ponder over things until coming to the disheartening conclusion that brought them to breaking it off in the first place, it really could've worked out if he was a better man.
Also possibly a part two of that with a tooth rotting fluff about Gale going through some character development and becoming a better man and then they get back together)
Finnick Odair
Starlight- Taylor swift, Red
"He said "Look at you, worrying too much about things you can't change, You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way"
Ahehehe Finnicks my favorite. It was hard to pick just one for him but I went with Starlight because he is just such a charmer. Starlight is a song about a whirlwind sort of romance where you are at a party and doing some silly things and you're falling in love. I can totally imagine this happening with Finnick. You meet at a capital party, run off together and start creating some chaos and fall in love. There's specific lines that remind me of him like the "he was trying to skip rocks on the ocean saying to me, "don't you see the starlight"". I could totally see Finnick doing that and just truly being a charming man and finding those little bits of joy in the messed up life given to him. I could see this also being a sort of sheltered reader and it being their first party and he helps them loosen up and have fun.
Honestly, its hard for me to pinpoint just one song for him because so many remind me of him so here are some honorable mentions.
Holy Ground- Same kinda vibe as Starlight
Forever Winter- he has trauma and I can help him.
Ours- Finnicks Reputation makes your family question if you should be with him but you know him truly and they can't take whats ours
Mine- A LOT OF PEOPLE THINK THIS ONE BECAUSE OF THE "I remember we were sitting there by the water" line but the rest of the song doesn't fit him
Paper Rings- They wanna get married but Finnick can't because of the capitals uh plan with him so they have a little ceremony with just themselves and some friends and paper rings before the events of Catching Fire and then they decide to run off to district 13 to be together for real
Coriolanus Snow
Tolerate It- Taylor Swift, Evermore
"I know my love should be celebrated, but you Tolerate it"
honestly this was the one that inspired me to do this post. I already wrote this story because I CANT HELP MYSELF! This song was playing in my car after I watched tbosas and it was just painting this whole picture of how the person Snow ended up marrying after Lucy Gray must have felt. I'm pretty sure there was that line in the book too that was talking about how Snow never wanted to fall in love again because he felt so out of control and how he would marry someone he didn't love so that he never had to feel that way again. it was something like that. So Tolerate It sounds like the total POV of his next partner. The song itself is about a relationship with a power imbalance where the person singing the song is giving their absolute all for the love, affection, and praise of their partner and their partner gives them nothing in return. The term "Tolerate It" also is insinuating that the person the narrator is in love with is mildly annoyed with the things the singer is doing for them. They simply deal with it but are never impressed and that just gave me snow vibes.
LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD SO A PART TWO WITH OTHER CHARACTERS (recommendations open :') ) OR OTHER ARTISTS. I listen to all genres fr.
Thank you for readings and let me know if you liked any of the ideas I suggested and if I should write them!
<3
#taylor swift#the hunger games#hunger games#tbosas#president snow#coriolanus snow x reader#gale hawthorne#gale hawthorn x reader#finnick odair#finnick x reader#finnick imagine#song lyrics#peeta mellark#the hunger games peeta#peeta mellark x reader#young president snow#tom blyth imagine#josh hutcherson
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hiya shannon hope youre doing well 😚 now ill let you pick the pairing because i actually haven't watched mota yet (which is treason and all, i know), but can't miss out on a chance to read some of your amazing writing. i thought these prompts were interesting:
3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”
29. “Don’t lie to me. I was there.”
xoxo hope to hear back from you soon and can't wait to read!
HI FRIEND!!!! i hope you're doing well toooo!! thank you so much for stopping by! awe it's no worries, you know that!! i always say watch when you can or want haha!! :D you're too kind, friend, thank you for the love and support and i hope it lives up to it!!! i picked my OC Judy Rybinski and who she is ~eventually~ paired up with, a fav of favs, Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal, who i have a few more pieces for as well posted and coming in the next few days!! and, i went with the first prompt offered (#3) as it fit the vibes more here! these two have my HEART! and i hope this piece captures that too :) (also: i will absolutely be getting back to you soon my friend hehe 🥹🫶✨)
let it linger
(a/n): for the judy x rosie girlies again - giving you all the soft, slightly awkward and nervous vibes there is, with a hint of that eagerness and excitement as we near the end of the war! and judy gets a promotion (which she deserves and earns), so please enjoy that! plus, enjoy the slight hint of the imagery of a swan above! they're beautiful!! :D also....just incase i didn't mention it anywhere else (and thinking back i probably didn't) after some of the silver bullets girls get split up, judy gets a position as rosie's turret ball gunner on rosie's riveters!!
"Lieutenant Rybinski, that has a ring to it."
Lieutenant Judy Rybinski. In her eyes, it really did. Lieutenant Rybinski - with her new crusher cap, A-2 jacket fit to the length of her arms and rather tiny form, the Lieutenant bar on her lapel, and the new level of standards she seemed to hold herself to. Judy looked up from underneath that shiny new crusher cap at Rosie Rosenthal and grinned.
"You think?" she asked him with a chuckle, crossing her arms as they approached the mess hall, "I'll be honest, Rosie, I didn't expect it. They don't do that sorta thing real often around here it seems. I know Francis just got the big promotion, but I don't know…." Judy shrugged, "a ball turret gunner doesn't see that sorta stuff." Rosie watched her for a moment, before breaking out into a wide grin and stopping in the path and turning to her, his hands placed firmly on his hips.
"A ball turret gunner like yourself deserves to see that sort of stuff." he said, and then offered her a wink to which she gave him a look. Judy gasped.
"You know something, don't you," she said, leaning forward and popping his shoulder lighting with a finger of hers, "c'mon, spill, what is it?" Rosie watched her and shook his head.
"I just think that Operations really has seen the lengths you've gone in the line of duty," Rosie said with a gentle smile, "your leadership skills, your capability to remain calm under pressure, stepping up to the plate. How you had to come up outta the ball turret and take on tail gunner for the second half of a mission. That sorta stuff doesn't just happen. Some people panic, some stall up. You jumped right in." Judy watched him.
"How would anyone know….?" Judy started, trailing off after his spiel, only to grin like a loon and drop her jaw, when she saw him grinning like he always did.
"It was YOU." Judy managed in a mixture of gasping-whispering-and-excitedly-yelling, before placing her hands on her reddening cheeks and grinning, "You didn't have to!" Rosie laughed lightly and shook his head, before stepping forward and placing his hands on her shoulders comfortably, like they'd been there all her life, his presence both warm and kind.
"I know how hard you work, Judy," Rosie said quietly, the feel of his gaze on her both pleasant and peaceful all at once, "I got mixed up in a conversation with Jack Kidd, he brought up the Silver Bullets, and….well, I couldn't help but bring you up." Couldn't….help? Judy was probably red in the face, but she didn't mind. He couldn't help but bring her up?
"You got that look on your face," Rosie said quietly with a chuckle, "I know you don't like the spotlight, but when people do what you've done, you deserve it." Judy stared at him, fighting back a bit of pent-up emotions that have been living inside her body for months. Despite her feelings towards Rosie as a whole (which had continually grown deeper without fail and had been increasingly harder to hide), and her emotions towards the war (which were ever-present), having someone like himself, taking away her emotions towards him, recognize what she's done, and what her sacrifice has been, made her want to have a breakdown.
"People don't usually tell me that sort of thing," Judy said softly back to him, smiling up at him with her rosy cheeks, "so thank you." Thank you for seeing me, like you always do, Judy thought to herself. Rosie smiled at her genuinely, and then squeezed her shoulders.
"It's always my pleasure, Jude, you know that." Rosie said tenderly, before dropping his hands from her shoulders and crossing his arms, nodding to the mess hall, "Ready for breakfast?" She nodded, but felt rooted in place, eyes somewhere towards the ground.
"You okay?" he asked her, reaching forward and bumping a pointer finger lightly under her chin as she looked up towards him, his hands going back to his hips. The longer she stared at him, the more she couldn't contain her thoughts inwards.
"You're really amazing you know?" Judy managed out, with a nod, "And you've probably been told that a million times, by a bunch of guys, as well as a bunch of girls wanting to have your last name, but, genuinely Rosie, meeting you has meant everything to me. Please know that." Rosie watched her, his turn to get rooted in place as a silence fell around them. Judy's cheeks grew a darker red just as the realization of what she had said to him and she suddenly wanted to take it all back with that look on his face.
"I…" Judy started, "listen, tell me to leave and I'll never bother you again, but, you do so much for me and everyone else around you and you put so much of yourself out there to better others and help other people. And you make sure people are cared for and comforted and doing well and are healthy, which damn, I barely look out for my own health, and you just…" Judy fell at a lose for words as Rosie stood there soaking in her jumbled mess of speech that he was definitely trying to decode in some sort of way. There she goes again, just saying whatever came to mind, right in front of Rosie Rosenthal, her emotions edging her on even more so in recent days it seemed.
Even if all he saw were friendship between them and they'd never be able to explain what all those touches and lingering looks were for whatever was to come, he'd know that she thought he was incredible and someone who has genuinely changed her life. He'd know that for as long as he lived, even it meant embarrassing herself until the point she was red in the face. She noted his slightly red cheeks and the wheels working in his head to speak.
"Thank you, Judy," Rosie said quietly with a nod, catching her gaze as she stared at him, whatever was swimming in his eyes enough to get a smile on her face, at the way he seemed breathless enough without words to stand there in front of her and look at her like that, "it's the right thing to do. Here. Right now. In the world. Help people. Make them know they're an important part in all of this. I….wow, bit of a loss for words, Jude." Judy watched him and then smiled grandly up at him.
"You take a minute to catch your breath," she whispered, before stepping forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, where she might've lingered a little longer than needed, but the spark of connection with that gentle touch was enough to keep her boldly functioning, "I'll meet you at the mess hall." Pulling back she looked at him and so up close, she could see every bit of his eye that you never saw from far away, and it made her smile softly within his general gaze, enough to keep him smiling, himself.
"Even if there are a lot of girls who'd like my last name," Rosie started, referencing her rather bold display of emotions, "none of them have ever kissed my cheek like that."
Judy froze up as she stared at him, her heart pounding so loud in her ears, she swore she had imagined that last part. She stared at him, swallowing her words and thoughts to try and get her body functioning and looked up into his eyes again.
"Maybe because none of them ever had the courage to really get to know you," she whispered back, holding his gaze like a sun to the moon, "and know how much you deserve to be loved like that." And then Judy was stepping away from him, trying to tell herself not to regret every word she was saying, spilling out of her mouth in that moment.
They could go down any day of the week - she was done watching her friends fall in love and then get their hearts torn out of their chests. She was done with the war getting what it wanted. She was tired of people letting the war take away the one thing that was ever-present. Love. Even if it meant a few bold, rather embarrassing forms of half-confessions and awkward, nervous laughter.
And Rosie.
Rosie deserved to know. She just had to find the courage to tell it straight to his face all these feelings she had wrapped up deep inside of her. For now, she'd let those thoughts linger longer.
Maybe.
#masters of the air#mota#mota writings#silver bullets#judy rybinski#rosie rosenthal#rosie rosenthal x oc#judy x rosie#judy you deserve the world my sweet pea#her just losing it basically and indirectly telling her she loves him and speed-running away#judy i get it#these are going to kill me the more i write them#GAHHHHH#also LIEUTENANT judy rybinski#scream she slayed that so hard#and rosie doing it for her#here i go again fangirling over the people in my head#dont mind me lmfao#ENJOY!!!!!!#rosie rosenthal the man(n) you are hehe
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imagine you're just a funny lil imp who does your devilish deeds in a pretty small sphere, just making humans stumble and getting them to drop their coffee or something. it's all you can bring yourself to do, and it's not like you're a renowned imp (or want to become one, either).
since you're not particularly strong, you try to avoid ever getting in contact with any of the high level demons or so, they seem too scary and dangerous after all. except once you happen to meet gemi[ni], thinking them to be a normal demon considering how down to earth they are, you become little pals of sorts, telling them all about the human world and the silly pranks you do. well, once you find out their true identity, you just feel so embarrassed for treating them so casually, you just can't bring yourself to ever see them again, at least for the next one thousand years or so at that.
how would gemi[ni] react?
Shit- How could you make such a careless mistake?
Your friendship began due to a single, faithful accident. One event that could've easily been avoided - had it not been for a mischievous little imp who had yet to get their daily fix of humanly woes.
For a while, you had taken up shop in a shopping center somewhere out in a decently sized city. A wide, open space with plenty of stores and alleys for you to reck havoc in. On that day, your shop of choice happened to be a little comic store huttled in the corner of the mall. You had been the cause of multiple people quitting and the ban of general displays after you knocked them over one to many times, but today you had your eyes on the customers - one in particular to be more precise.
"What do you mean you don't have it?'
You snitch from behind the cash register as the patron in question slams their fist on the table. The cashier flinches in response as they lean in, teeth bared in a snarl.
"I preorder that figure the day it was announced- and you sold it to someone else?!"
You cover your hands over your mouth to prevent yourself from bursting out in laughter, despite the fact that no one could hear you. You thought nothing of this specific person at first. If you got to them, you got to them, but upon hearing them shouting in rage at the cashier you couldn't pass up the opportunity to suck up their misfortune. You weren't even sure what was going on for the most part other than something they wanted was out of stock. It would be such a shame if what they had got happened to get mixed up with another patron's items.
"I'm really sorry about this-" The cashier replies. "we can give you a discount for what you've picked out today."
The customer sighs. "Fine. You're a bunch of incompetent bastards, but I'll take what I can get."
While they pay, you reach into the bag on the counter, and swap its contents with the one to their left. Snickering to yourself, you slip out the front door onto the next location. Sometimes the idea of the reaction was better than seeing the real thing, and the you didn't know how long it would take so it was best not to waste your time when you could pull off more hits.
"Hey!"
You don't even turn when your hear a shout. It wasn't like humans could see you, so you were the most unlikely suspect.
A rock hits the ground by your feet.
"I'm talking to you, shrimp."
Fearing the worse, you glance back; locking eyes with the ill-tempered customer. No further conformation needed, you book it; speeding off down the street before they take their first step. You dart into the nearest all, knocking into a few trash cans as you come to a halt. You peak around the corner. With the crowded streets and how fast you were going, they should be far behind and soon a thing of the-
"Nice try."
Spinning on your heels, the previously bumped into cans go flying to the ground as you jump ten feet in the air. The customer stands behind you, tapping their heel against the dirt as they check their nails.
"Took you long enough. I was starting to get bored." They grab you by your shirt collar. "Normally, I'd have squished a bug like you by now, but..."
You squirm under the sharpness of their finger as it drags across your face. It's been so long since you've met another demon that you had completely forgotten your own kinds' scent. You thought they were a little off, but never in a million years did you think they were like you. Given their stature, they had to have some power, but the weakness of their scent led you to believe they weren't that much higher on the class scale than you.
"...this isn't a normal situation." They flick you in the forehead before letting you go as they smirk. "Your little prank let to me getting what I really wanted and seeing the joy you got from it sparked some interest. My other half always tells me I need to interact more with this world, along with people in general- and I believe you'll be the perfect one to help by out."
You swallow your breath. "Do I have a choice?"
They laugh. "You're a class act already. "
-
And thus began your budding relationship. At first it was just retailing your greatest pranks over desserts, but soon they joined you on your ventures as well. Nothing too crazy, but the occasion push or shove. To make things far, they told you about the hobbies they fancied as well. From video games to comics, they had a vast knowledge on human media, but not so much their people. You would soon find out your new companion's name was Gemi. It rings some bells, but not loud enough for you to recall where you heard the name before.
As much fun as you were having, you started to notice something off from time to time. At random intervals, their brass, and bold persona would be switched for a more timid, antsy one. They also refused to take your hand, despite literally carrying you from danger in the space. Regardless of the personality, they began to grow more hostile to those around when you both took humanly forms. It was unlike anything you had seen with the demon before, but since they were still your loyal friend you had no complaints.
That was- until the day you found out their true face.
-
You were at a cafe they enjoyed, having just ordered your treats, when you come to find that yours came with a phone number on the bag. Finding it humorous/an opportunity for a new target, you show it off to Gemi with a laugh.
"Hey Jimmy, check it out. I think that cashier wrote his number on here. Funny, right?"
Instead of a finding it funny, Gemi goes quiet. They stay as such the whole time, taking occasional glances at the counter. As someone walks from the back, they excuse themselves while you finish your snack. With them still gone by the time you finished, you get up to look for them. Entering the unlocked bathroom, you find them standing in front of one of the mirrows - and a body in their arms.
"Are you sure about this, my lord?"
Instead of their reflection, the mirror shows a portal to a room with white walls. A shadowy figure stands patiently before them, arms outstretched despite their query. Gemi scowls as they shove the limp human in their arms.
"Yes, but if you really need the both of us to answer- Gemini is the one who suggested this." Their eyes soften as they continue. "I did not! All I said was maybe he needed to take a short- long-term vacation until we had more time to win them over. Ceres will be on our wings if she finds out about this."
"Be quiet- it's my turn today, so you can't speak unless I give you the say so."
The recollection their name comes crashing back to you. The twin Devils, Gemi and Gemini. Combined souls and a third of the fallen ruler of the underworld. Fear creeps up your chest as you realize you've been buddy buddy with one of the most powerful beings in your realm. What did they want with an imp like you? Did they truly value or friendship, or were they only looking to past the time until something better came along? Would they get rid of you after that like the mortal? Maybe you were the one they were win or- and they wanted you to be their pet. You didn't know what was going to be the outcome and you didn't want to find out.
-
Slipping away beneath the veil of the crowd, you avoided the pair from that day forth. They attempted to contact on the phone you stole a week back, but you chucked it in the streets at the first call. You saw them from time to time in the plaza, but fled before they could spot you. You heard people speaking of a stranger who would demand information on someone with your general appearance, who'd suddenly burst into tears along way through. There was a spot in your heart that missed them, but you valued your safety more.
After a month long hiatus, you were getting back into the groove of pulling your devious tricks. You moved across town to a much smaller, but decently populated area. While going after your next victim, tearing a hole in the plastic bag they caring, you feel the urge to follow them until they noticed. Your venture leads you to an empty street, and you only notice something is off whem the lights start to flicker. The human turns to you. You recognize him.
"I'm sorry.."
As he runs off, a large figure descends from its perch atop a light fixture. They're in their true form, standing over you at over three meters tall. They snatch your arm with the talons of their winged limb; their dozens of eyes full of rage - and grief.
"Where have you been." Gemi hisses. "We both you got hurt. We thought you were dead."
"Please don't kill me!"
Their grimace falls. "Hurt you? Why would we do that?"
"Because I ran. I know I shouldn't have, but I.. I don't want to be your servant!"
Gemi starts at you deadpanned. Their lips slowly curl into a shaky smile as they break out into a full belly laugh. They left you go as they wipe a tear from their eye; face shifting at their other half takes control. You feel the urge to run now that you're free, but something tells you, you shouldn't."
"Oh, Y/...I-.. We'd never see you as below us." Gemi takes the wheel once more. "We love you, you adorable fool. Give our.. condition, we don't agree on much, but we are certain that you are our destined partner. I do tend to have a temper... and steer away from romance so we had trouble pursuing you.
Gemi grabs you with their second pair of limbs, each face taking their turn to kiss your cheeks as they wrap their wings around your smaller frame.
"You are ours, and as ours- you are our equal. We hate to do this, but due to you running away we cannot let you out of our sight again. We promise your punishment will be most pleasurable, before we get started on the wedding plans the following eve."
#Gemini my oc#yandere oc#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere insert#yandere blurb#yandere x you#yandere teratophilia#yandere monster#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#yandere demon x reader#yandere drabble
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OMG HI, it's my first time making a request ever. So I just finished watching the first episode of Fallout and couldn't stop imagining a one-shot of Leon x reader being the couple getting married (but in this case, no one gets murder). Basically, just fluff and smut inspired from the line where the girl goes "are you're sperm good?" or smth like that.
PLS I'LL DIE IF YOU MAKE IT
Dawg, I’m gonna be honest, I had to find a reaction video on youtube so if I’m missing details, I'm sorry! But you kinda inspired a whole idea of Resident Evil Fallout AU lmaooo. I pictured RE2 Leon for this
I didn’t go smut just because I wasn’t in the mood, but I hope this is OK!
Also, SPOILERS (i guess?) and MINORS GO AWAY
So, lets just say the raiders didn't invade the vault and an actual blight had taken out half of vault 32
So both you and Leon went through the process of the selection. He was…a little less willing. I see Leon as a rather…intimate guy, so getting poked and prodded for a wife he didn’t choose was…not his favorite.
You, on the other hand, were doing what you were taught. You handled the whole process easily enough. You got your wedding dress, got dolled up, and were escorted to vault 32.
The doors were open and the two of you were revealed to one another.
He was handsome, in a boyish sort of way. But he was shy. Very shy. Leon wasn’t even meeting your eye.
He, however, thought you were beautiful.
I personally headcanon Leon as not really seeing himself as a looker. I mean, he wouldn’t consider himself ugly, but he doesn’t really consider himself attractive either.
So…you can imagine when he saw you, his heart pretty much jumped out his throat.
“Hi.” you smiled at him so sweetly, introducing yourself, “Your name?”
“Leon.” he cleared his throat
You could hear someone behind you whisper, “lucky…”
The wedding proceeded that same night. To you, this was doing a duty. While you didn’t know Leon, you had hope that you both would find love in eachother. Meanwhile, your husband-to-be was still nervous. He even looked terrified to a degree. He kept his face down.
You were the one who initiated the kiss when the preacher said “you may now kiss the bride!”
Luckily during dinner you managed to chat a bit. You found out Leon was trying to become vault security. He didn’t have parents after losing them years ago during the chaos of the blight. And he likes dogs.
That was all well and good, but finally you asked the important question, “What's your sperm count?”
Leon choked on his drink. Immediately he was flustered, “I…um…”
“You know it's important we have kids. For the genetic stability of the vaults. Didn’t your vault doctor tell you this?” You pressed.
“I…yea..she did…” Leon was clearly knocked off his feet, “Just…wanted to get to know you a bit more…”
“Oh.” You had to remind yourself that he was leaving his vault. His friends and home were being taken from him to come to your vault. He was in over his head and the least you could do was be understanding.
Once the wedding was over, you took his hand and led him to your new living quarters. Leon was uncomfortable, anxious and very much not sure what to do. He listened and nodded along to what you were saying.
However, once everything was said and done, “Are…you ok?” You asked, seeing how closed off he was.
“Yea…just…overwhelmed is all.” He responded, not meeting your eye, “can…we…take things slow?”
You couldn’t help but smile, “yea, i’d like that.”
#reader insert#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#fluff#my writing#re2 leon#fallout au
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An (incredibly long) "I want"-style song dedicated to the most unruly of trios: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and George Harrison.
The setting is the late 50's – it's deliberately a bit of a mish-mash :-)
Lyrics below the cut!
John: Green
Paul: Blue
George: Purple
P&G: Pink
J&P: Red
JP&G: Neutral
Liverpool gave up on me the first day of preschool
Teachers called me unruly cause I don't suffer fools
And my aunt who says she can't believe I’d throw it all away
Quarrybank, that school for cranks suspended me the other day
All those lads who quit this band to learn a proper trade
Think that I don't understand the facts of getting paid
But you both see,
It's them not me, it's us and this here prophecy
Do you see us five years on – well
Maybe three, that's sort of long
As they're writhing for our songs
And “Your group's on now, John "
Earning some preposterous wage
Free of this less-town-more-cage
As we enter center-stage
In our gold disk age
And the birds will have to queue
For a single peck at you
Then, emboldened by the view
Watch them molt on cue
And all we need is not to quit,
They'll call us Great Britain's
Newest stars, brand new guitars, guaranteed not to split
Picture us: the favourite band
With a record deal in hand
Going deaf from screaming fans
As per my new masterplan
Where we going, fellas? Where we going?
Where we going, fellas? Where we going?
(To the topper-most of popper-most of popper, to the topper)
To the toppermost of the poppermost!
I hear music in my head
Wherever I go
It's like it's bursting out my soul
It's something I cannot control
Every night When I get home
I watch dad roll his eyes
"Heard of this thing called a comb? "
I sigh as he implies
That mum would be
So unhappy and so disappointed in me
Meanwhile I can't drop this tune
However inopportune
There's a decade dawning soon
Shooting for the moon
And John may seem unreasonable
But his dream is feasible
Sometimes yes, guess he's a gull
I'll appease him though
And then I see how for we're come
Joined, we're greater than our sum
See, the rhythm's in the strum
Of the guitars and then some
Playing my part in your vision, I'll
Grab a pen, so much to discover
Let's produce another
Lennon-McCartney original
For the day he and John met
And Yes George, I didn't forget!
We become a matching set
Writing tete-a-tete
Where we going, Johnny? Where we going?
Where we going, Johnny? Where we going?
(To the topper-most of popper-most of popper, to the toppermost)
And where do I fit in?
And when do I come in?
Is there a spot for me at the
To the toppermost of the poppermost!
I'm the youngest, there's no day when they let me forget
But the part Paul will not say: I'm their safest bet
See the fact is they don’t practice systematically like me
I know my chord charts, strings, fretboard, parts of my soul, sorted by key.
Still the world is their playground
And I am watching from the fence
I can't yet jump with confidence
But mum taught me about patience
I still feel Julia's arms around me every time I play
What would my mum say? (She tells me)
Anything I set my mind to (She taught me everything)
The heights I'll climb to (She wanted everything)
My time soon
Anything to prove I'm worth it (Wouldn’t approve)
Move the earth, they'll learn…
I had to learn to be the only one believing in me
And ever since she's gone, I can hardly stand it (Mum says I can stand it)
No one understanding (Don’t quite understand it)
The thing she saw in me
And dad, he just wants me to be practical
She’d call me her rebel without applause and tell me
Just keep making noise, always play in your own key
I will wait patiently
He may believe in me but not my choice
They will have no choice but to love me
Where we going fellas? Where we going?
To the toppermost of the poppermost!
Liverpool has no idea what’s coming
Liverpool will never be the same
They’ll put up posters of us
Like on this truck
John, that’s a bus!
Put your glasses on, Jesus!
And dad will be non-plussed when
Walking down the street he’ll see John (John), Paul, George (George) of the…
Johnny and the Moondogs… What! Definitely not. The Shoes!
The Quarrymen… Nononononono, JaPaGe3!
Insert band name here.
Liverpool has no idea what’s coming
Liverpool will never be the same
When they all see us one as three the blasphemous song trinity.
Everybody’s bitching
Where’s that old ambition
That got you essay prizes and into the institute?
I’m not a delinquent
I’ve just been rethinking
No one realizes I’m still just as resolute
Just keep making noise
Always play in your own key
They will have no choice
But to love me
Anything I set my mind to
The heights I’ll climb to
My time soon
Anything to prove I’m worth it
Move the earth
They’ll learn from me.
Where we going, fellas? Where we going?
Where we going, Johnny?
Where we going, fellas? Where we going?
(To the topper-most of popper-most of popper, to the topper)
And where do I fit in and when do I come in?
Toppermost of the poppermost.
#the beatles#beatles#you would not believe how much time went into this lmao#or maybe you would#GOOODNESSS#main-tagging this. I've Earned It!#also sry if the colours are fucked up it's tumblr's fault not mine I corrected this twice already#my voice#fiona.docx#fic#friends.jpg
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