#I have more head canons but that's all I can think of for now!
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Unfortunate Timing [Part 2]
(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist
Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)
4.2k words
Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.
A single moment can change your life, change the world. Everything only seemed to get worse. The quarry was a group of survivors that had formed. You and the Dixons were outcasts, at least it felt like it. The girls seemed to see you in low regard being pregnant. The men were no better. They saw you as a burden. The feeling of people talking behind your back stressed you out. Being pregnant also didn’t help. You felt tired all the time, also being plagued with morning sickness. Which is a stupid name when it happens all day. Throwing up in a world were food is now limited also leaves you uneasy.
You also see that stress weighing on Daryl. It wasn’t long ago he struggled with the fact of having a kid. Now seemed even more terrifying. He was becoming short tempered, to his credit only snapping at you once but regretted the way he almost made you cry. “No! I won’t take a break I have to keep going out there for food! You’ve been throwing up half the shit I’ve already gotten for you!”
He didn’t mean for it to sound like your wrong for doing so, he knew you couldn’t help it. He saw the glassy film come to the corner of your eyes. His heart tugged. You were in your tent you shared, sat on the sleeping bag with your head shamefully down. “No, no. Come on…” he angled your face back up to met his. He sank to his knees in front of you. “I know you can’t help it. M’ just trying to say you need more. I just want to make sure you’re gettin enough.” You had asked him to stay because he was rarely around. He was out alone looking for food and you couldn’t help but see every time he came back a little more on edge. He was getting into his head to much out there.
He knows you’re having a hard time. With being pregnant at this moment in time how could you not. You had tried to talk to the mothers of the camp for advice on anything, they didn’t bat an eye to you. You had looked for support and were denied it. He saw that you were being treated like a Dixon. Something he was familiar with, and something Merle also understood. Merle became more chill around you. No more sexual comments or sexist remarks. Doesn’t mean he is any less better to be around. He treated you like a sister you thought. He still was an ass. Making mean comments or complaining about something you did. But he had become family.
Andrea was your biggest pain. She seemed like she had something to prove. She hated the traditional female roles that had been pushed onto the girls. You understood her disliking for Merle but she attached that to Daryl and you as well. She didn’t say outright mean things but subtle jabs. Week after week it was chipping at your demeanor.
So here you are now, you think almost 3 months pregnant. Seeing Daryl was the highlight of whenever he appeared. You sat in your tent with him getting ready for his 2 day hunting trip for a deer he knew was near by. He signed feeling your eyes on him, “Yer breakin my heart with that look.” Your smiling face replacing your sulking one, “I’m just missing you already.” You stood up, “You should see something before you go.” He turned to you questioningly. You pulled your shirt up over your stomach and turned to the side, “I know I haven’t seen myself in a mirror for a while but, I think I’m showing?” You looked up from your little bump that you could see spotting the surprised face he was making. He gulped before talking, “Ya sure are…” he walked closer placing a hand to your tummy. You saw his teeth were clenched. He felt the weight of pressure crushing him,
“We are doing are best, that’s all I could ask form you.”
He left for his hunt a little less stressed. You also saw Merle off later into the day with the first group run to the city. “Hey do me a favor and don’t get yourself killed.” Merle turned to you, “And have those freaks naw on m' sweet ass?” You chuckle as you walk away, “Let’s just hope you remember your ass from your elbow!”
The day progress like any other. It had just become the afternoon when the sound of the radio chirped on. It cause some disagreement about making a sign to warn others about the city. You just went back to minding your own business. You helped boil water taking notice of Lori trimming her son’s hair. You spoke up noticing the displeased look on Carl's face, “Going for a mohawk Carl? Or maybe you’re thinking bald.” His nose scrunched up at the thought. You laugh at the reaction, “Bald people run faster.” Carl smiled, “Nuh-uh!” You shook your head and shrugged, “How do you know if you won’t try.” He looked to his mom, “I’d rather have hair than be faster!” He said it to his mom like he tried convincing her to not make him bald. Lori smiled at her son, “Ya me to, but if you keep moving you might be bald at the end of this.” He straightened and stilled, but he still spoke, “I hate haircuts…”
Shane came and sat down looking at you briefly. “One of these days you’ll be missing your mother’s hair cuts.” Carl rolled his eyes, "I'd like to see that day!" It had initially shocked you that Shane wasn’t Carl's dad. You always assumed for how close they were and how often they would walk into the woods together. Then it put a gross feeling into your mouth that his father had only recently died. Shane was his apparent best friend and coworker. But it wasn’t necessarily wrong, you just didn’t like to think about it often.
After finishing with boiling water you handed it to Carol. You felt sweaty and all around unpleasant. You needed a nap. You said to Carol that you were going to lay down if they needed to find you. You woke up to arguing. The group that went out had radioed saying there was a problem. Everyone was scared for their respective family that had gone to the city. You felt a pit form in your stomach. The hormones in your body already swarming causing you to be unable to control them. You picture what happened to your Aunt in front of you. Sometimes it still feels as if the blood was still on your face. The thought of knowing she was one of those things walking around somewhere. Maybe they all were already dead let her. You weren’t exactly thrilled about Merle as a person but, you knew deep down he was another person to help protect your baby.
You decided there was no use in stressing yourself, so you went and distracting yourself with chores. Laundry, moving fire wood to our fire pit, took a walk near the perimeter, which now leaves you here at the waters edge. You used the cool water to help with the swelling in your feet and ankles. Week after week you had the sense that being pregnant is going to really suck farther down the road. You fiddle with your knife while swaying your feet in the water. Lost in your own world when an echo starts to ring out throughout the quarry.
The car alarm got louder so you slipped your shoes on and walked back up to the camp. You saw a red car and Glenn standing outside of it. Shane opening the hood and pulling something to stop its beeping. People were yelling at him for answers when a van appeared, ‘so everyone made it back.’ It was a relief to stop the constant thought of the worse. You couldn’t help but notice Merle nowhere to be seen. But that thought was pushed aside when you heard Carl scream,
“DAD!”
You watched with a smile at the reunion of the Grimes family. Also taking notice of Shane making a weird face. He probably was feeling sick to his stomach and you thought it kinda deserved. He did persuade his grieving wife. The thought was interrupted by T-dog coming toward you with a concerned face. You clicked something was wrong, then started to look around. Merle was still no where. The sinking feeling of realization hit you. T-dog watch as understanding washed over you. A hand over your mouth, “W-where is Merle?” A few others turning at the mention, Lori’s husband taking the most notice. T-dog spoke first, “He was putting all of us in danger. He was cracked out of his mind.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, ‘I told him to behave.’ You inhale trying to calm yourself, “He dead?” T-dog shock his head. You nodded looking at all the pears of eyes on you. Your eyes were shiny but nothing fell. You huffed and walked back to your tent. While you were upset about Merle being gone it wasn’t about that. It proved how fucked this new world was becoming. A world your child would have to be in. Suddenly being pregnant with them seemed like the safest place for them. Your thoughts of how it would suck later in pregnancy and 'couldn’t wait for it to be over' stopped. Your child is the safest it will ever be in its life. That terrifying thought scared you.
It wasn’t until later when the sun began to set that you had calmed. It was cold and you wanted to sit by a fire. People were surprised when you appeared and sat with them. You had over heard parts about what happened to Rick. But at the sight of you got them talking about Merle. It was Dale who brought it up, “Who is going to tell Daryl Dixon about his brother?” Rick glanced to you then back to Dale, “I will. I’m the one who handcuffed him.” Then T-dog shook his head, “Nah I dropped the key, makes this one mine.” Based on that information you started to piece what happened on the run. That thought stalled to a stop when Glenn stated, “Not to make it about race but maybe a white guy should tell him?” Is that what they thought about Daryl? They just assuming he is like his brother? You huff in anger, “Really Glenn? He is not racist. He’s only the person that, you know, been feeding all of you.” Glenn turned sheepish at your harsh tone. You stood, “But you know, leave his brother for dead seems like a good trade for how much he has been doing for all of you people!”
You visible deflate mood switching on a dime. You move a hand to your small bump, “Sorry I know you probably had a good reason, Merle is a hard ass.” You sunk back down enjoying the fire too much to go to bed. Rick’s voice spoke calmly, “Your pregnant.” He stated it more as a realization. You look to his shocked face, clearly thinking of how unlucky a timing it was to be. You chuckled speaking sarcastically, “Keep up with those observations and you’re sure to make detective.” His eyebrows drawn in by thought, “Merle was the father?” Disgust washing over your face, “Ew. God I take it back.” Everyone was surprised at your blatant dislike for Merle. They knew Daryl was the dad. You start to clarify, “Daryl is the dad.” You took notice of there original reaction, “Look I don’t like Merle anymore then you probably do. Half the time I don’t think Daryl does either! But he is still at the end of the day my family now.”
Peoples lack of trying to talk to you has put there own version of you in there head. They thought you were quiet and jumpy. Questioning if they did talk to you they would do more harm then good like with Carol. Now the few talks they’ve had or heard from you made sense. You were out spoken and just tired from being pregnant. You stood up again feeling awkward. “I’m going to bed, figure out what to say to Daryl. Maybe watch out for a punch or two.” So you walked off to bed. You were happy you could see Daryl in the morning, but the thought of him learning of his brother broke your heart. You tossed and turned most of the night with the thought.
The light shining through your tent lead you awake. Still trying to cling to as much sleep while feeling drowsy. Then you heard Carl and Sophia screams. You sat up and tried to get to your feet causing a wave of dizziness. The shuffling of stomping feet telling you people were running over there. You slip on shoes taking a moment to become alright with gravity again. Amy and Andrea walking away when you walked over a voice caught your attention, “Its gotta be the brain, don’t youall know nothing?” You smiled glad Daryl is back. When you turn the corner however you weren’t expecting a walker and deer to be sprawled out dead on the floor. You made eye contact with Daryl when the smell of the walker pulled a gag from you. The smile being wiped from your face as a hand comes to your mouth. You immediately turned back around and walked away.
Daryl was well aware of how sensitive your senses have become. You can’t handle anything raw at the moment. He noticed a week into the quarry how you would look at something raw, something that never bother you before, and it would make you queasy. Speaking of raw he should probably get the squirrels ready. He sighed watching you walk away with a love sick hopelessness washed on his face. Something that people have never taken notice of before. So he called for his brother to help, so he could get to you sooner. That's when all hell broke loose.
You heard the calls for Merle hearing Daryl walk back. Then you saw all the guys surround him. Then you watched him place back and forth. You knew that was a coping thing he did so you decided to stand closer. By the time you had walked over he threw the squirrels he’d caught at Rick. You didn’t even have a moment to yell his name when the former policemen jumped him and pinned him. Shane putting him in a headlock and Rick getting in his face. You yelled in displeasure,
“Get the hell off him!”
It was the loudest anyone has heard you, also the angriest. Shane had glanced to you before releasing his hold on him. Daryl sprung back up frustration clear on his face. When he turned to make sure you were behind him you caught a glimpse of his eyes becoming glassy. T-dog chimed in from the earlier conversation you didn’t hear, “It’s not his fault, I dropped the key.” Daryl’s voice strained, “You couldn’t pick it up?!” T-dog looked down guilty, "Well, I dropped it into a drain. But before I left I chained the door shut." Daryl shock his head and started to back up, "That supposed to make me feel better! Hell with all of y'all, just tell me where he is so I can go an get him." You hated to see him upset. You weren't expecting Lori to pipe p and volunteering her husband to take Daryl there. Rick said he was planning to go back anyways saying it was wrong for anything to suffer like that. Shane being the typical hard ass and self employed leader strongly disagreed. With a few others joining it was decided, they were going to get Merle back.
You were finally alone with Daryl again. He still seemed riled over everything but also you could see he was getting emotional. He was turned around facing away from you. You slowly wrapped you arms around him, holding him from behind. He slowly turned into you resting his chin on your head and arms going over your shoulders. You felt him release air, sinking into you. He try's to hide it but you see he is exhausted. You saw he felt like he had to prove something to you, or maybe just to himself. He released you with avoided eye contact. He took a moment with you and collected himself but, he was still a man on a mission.
You watch as Daryl throw things into a bag and refusing to met your eye to avoid whatever look that would break his heart. They were about to take off back to the city and into danger, so you stopped Daryl by putting your hands to his chest. He spoke before you could, "Look I have ta go get him, I know you don't want me goin-" You cut him of by grabbing his face, "When you see him again you tell him I warned his dumb ass, and when you get him back here I'm going to chew him out for this!" He looked at you stunned. You use your grip on his face to drag him into a kiss, "And you better comeback here without a scratch!" He smiled at you, eyes soft, he kissed you again.
"Yes Ma'am."
They had left hours ago and you had that uneasy feeling again. You respected Rick more then anyone else at the camp and he just got here. He was a decent guy but feel bad watching Carl's worried expression. Lori even flipped that he was going right after she herself said he was. Mood swings on that girl, and your the one whos supposed to be pregnant. Jim was off digging which concerned a few. It led to him tided to a tree for his own safety. Granted it was the only eventful thing that would probably happen today. Unless a swamp monster dragged itself out of the water you and all the girls were doing laundry in. Although Ed was a close to one. It was a welcome distraction all the same. To have girl talk again was essential to any girl and none can say other wise. Most of the girls seemed like they could now talk to you and it was a relief.
Although Andrea kinda still sucks the life out of fun, "So how did you end up pregnant?" Most girls look over to her wet laundry in hand and displeased looks by the question. You tightly rung a shirt and looked at her in the eye, "Well, I think your a little old for the birds and bees talk." That gained an eye roll from her but chuckles from the others. You smiled before giving her the answer you are sure she was trying to dig for, "I found out a day before the fall." The thought making you think of your Aunt. You continued on anyways, "Daryl and I hadn't been dating that long I'll be honest, so it wasn't exactly planned. Then I thought it was the end of the world." You look around to the thoughtful faces around you and shrugged, "Turns out I was a day off on that though." It was lighthearted from there, mentions of things that they missed from before. Carols unexpected and less then innocent choice sent waves of laughter throughout the lady's. That fun was crushed by the swamp monster known as Ed.
It lead to something you didn't expect. His sexism rubbing everyone the wrong way. Making Andrea questioned what he did instead of sitting on his ass doing nothing. Which while true and agreed with it lead to him to try to take Carol away and most likely go hit her. When Andrea challenge Ed in doing so it left a sinking feeling in you. You were uncomfortable with confrontation, probably do with the way your parents had treated you. Even with the sinking feeling you try and pull Carol behind you. The exaltation of his action were unpredictable, "Think I won't hit some pregnant whore?!" That was the first swing. It almost fully landed grazing your cheek. Carol had used the arm you had on her to tug you back before he swung. The frightened yelps and yells grabbing the attention from those farther. Carol now stood slightly in front of you, your cold damp hand moving to your warmed cheek he clipped. Ed now focused on his wife slapping her and trying to drag her away but the other girl now stepping in and clung to her. You didn't even see Shane before he pulled Ed backwards and began to lay punch after punch into him. Everyone but Carol were stunned into silence. Carols cry's and the grunts coming from the men filled the air. So many Jim wasn't the only thing that was going to happen today.
Everything was tense after that. With the amount things gone wrong and the still missing members that went to the city, moral was low among the group. Later in the evening Amy and Andrea had gone fishing catching dinner. The sun drifted closer to fully set as the fish was cooked with one question still in there minds, 'Where were they?' The smell of the fish left you gagging and need for fresher air. You found you way back to the water to dip you again swollen feet. It wasn't a unusual thing you did, you did it often. Knife in hand and legs swaying in the cool water. The light dissipated making you aware you should get back soon. You had heard laughs by the camp so moral was rising from the stressful day. You used your cold hands to press to your reddened face from almost getting flattened out by Ed. Daryl would will not be happy about that. You had pulled you feet from the water shaking the water off them to put your shoes on. Then the day got even worse. A scream ripped threw the air making you turn to the sound. You see outlines of figures in the dark. You feel fear crash into you.
'Walkers...'
There were even two coming closer to you from the woods to the side of the water. They had almost snuck up on you if you hadn't looked around because of the scream. A tremble was in your hand as you gripped the knife you had. You slowly back away, hearing gunshots off in the air. Daryl had taught you this for this moment. He had grilled this into in fear that maybe he wouldn't be around to protect you. The first walker was a thin women, the other a male missing its arm and limping. You lunged the knife into the women's eye. Your knife breaking by the blade as the women fell over dead. The snapping of the metal was like slow motion, the other walker steps away from you. You step back bare feet getting hurt by the jagged rocks. You had looked down spotting a larger rock and hurriedly pick it up.
You remember the motions Daryl had showed you for self defense but had never practiced them with him. He didn't really like the idea of rough housing with his pregnant girlfriend even if it was for your defense. You reached and tugged the one arm the walker had and tripped the thing in the motion. It was flat on the floor about to get back up and grab at you. However, rock in hand you threw downward blows one after another even after the thing stopped moving. Blood splatting all over you shirt and down your arms. The buzz of adrenalin causing your hands to violently shake when you stopped swinging. The urge to cry was strong but you notice the now slue of gunshots that had increased stop. The silence broken by the yell and worried cry for your name.
"Y/N!!!"
Your body fluttered at the sound of Daryl. Still bare foot you ran up the gravel hill and yelling back to him with a emotional in your voice, "DARYL!!!" You had made it to the top getting to see him wipe around to your voice. His crossbow dropped to the ground as you both booked it toward each other. He didn't know what to think when he couldn't find you after the last walker fell. The inability to find you cracking a desperate hole into his chest. When he heard you and saw you running to him relief flooded him. As he ran panic rose again seeing you dripping in blood. Inches apart he heard your desperate sobs before crashing into one another. He pulled you off your feet lifting you into him. His voiced stuttered out, "Are you bit?! Are you ok?!" You voice quivering as you sucked in a breath. "I'm alright-t." He felt you shaking like a leaf and whispered into you, "I've got ya, nothin is gonna hurt ya." You had barred your face into his neck now crying in relief. Daryl helped you get cleaned up, that night you clung to him while everyone 'slept'. A moment can change everything, and it was clear to everyone after today.
They were no longer safe here and things were only going to get worse.
Part 3
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11. up from the dust, inconceivable love
Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Chapter Summary: Ellie learns the truth. Your family gains a member.
Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.
Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, angst, hurt & comfort and no comfort?, self worth issues, canon violence, anger, child birth, spoilers for TLOU 2 (we’re entering the timeline that starts to burrow things for part 2 of the game)
Notes: huge thank you to my constants, my rocks @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and scream and break their hearts.
If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!
Words: 5352
Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist
“What do you think of Peace?” You ask, propped up in bed, hand over your swollen stomach. You’ve gained more weight this time, probably because you’re not in the throes of grief.
“I mean, I’m a fan. I hope everyone is.” Joel says, trimming his facial hair with the bathroom door wide open.
You bite your lip, admiring the expanse of his bare back. If getting out of bed wasn’t an event, you would be behind him right now, kissing his shoulders.
“No, as a name for a girl,” you say. Joel turns around looking at you like he’s contemplating checking you into a psychiatric ward if those still existed. “A middle name, not a first name.”
Joel sets his trimmers down, leaning in the doorway shirtless. “And what would her first name be?”
“Willow.”
Joel furrows his brow stepping into your bedroom, your shared bedroom. “Darlin, I know we live in a commune, but we’re not hippies.”
“You bring me wildflowers and we walk barefoot through the fields. I wouldn’t be so sure.” You can’t help but laugh. Joel cracks a smile. “Do you have suggestions then?”
“Thought about naming Sarah- Katherine.”
You make a face. You know one too many Kates and Katies even in Jackson.
“It’s not a bad name,” Joel chuckles.
“Neither is Willow.”
“Is this your way of telling me you’re a hippie?”
“Would you leave if I said yes?”
Joel shrugs “I don’t know, but I knocked you up so I guess I have to stay.” He crawls into the bed. His head is level with your stomach as he watches for movement.
You roll your eyes. “How romantic.”
He grins up at you and then his eyes are back on your belly. He rests a hand at the top, staring, waiting in wonderment. Neither of you can believe this is all real. Your baby moves around all the time, kicking your bladder and lungs, signifying life. A life you did not think would make it.
You thread your fingers through Joel’s soft brown hair. The outline of a foot appears and then disappears. Joel’s eyes sparkle and he kisses the same spot. He’s soft and gentle. In these moments, all your anxieties are carried away like leaves on an autumn breeze. This is your peace.
“What other names did you have picked out for Carter?”
You bite your lip. “We didn’t have any other boys' names.”
“And if he’d been a girl?” He’s still enthralled with your stomach as if there’s been an enchantment cast over it.
“Sarah.”
His head snaps up.
“Tommy and I talked about her a lot when I was pregnant. She was on my mind… being a part of Sarah’s life made me realize I wanted a family… even in this world where I had no right to do so.”
You keep playing with his hair. His eyes go glassy making you wonder what memory is playing behind his eyes. You stay like that until Joel is ready to talk. Eventually, he sits up, clearing his throat. His lips touch yours.
“What about Willa?”
You tilt your head to the side. You don’t really see how it’s any different than Willow, but you’re not going to bring that up. “I like it.”
“And Miles for a boy.” His smile returns. He doesn’t tell you that he’s positive you’re having a girl.
“Miles is an old man's name!”
“Good, then he’ll grow to be an old man.”
You take in a sharp breath. It’s just an offhand comment, but it carries so much weight. It’s a stark reminder of the heaviness of the world, and the twinge of guilt you feel bringing another child into it.
Joel takes your hand, kissing your palm. You see it in his eyes too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve-”
“It’s okay.” Your fingers comb through his hair. He leans into your touch. His grays are more noticeable than they were a year ago, but the brown still outnumbers them.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks.
“I don’t know… I- I haven’t really let myself think about it until today.” It's true. The fact of the matter is you’re within a month of your due date. You and Joel are so close to welcoming this baby into the world and are wildly unprepared.
“We’re getting close… We need a crib.”
“The one I used for Carter is in the attic.”
“I can bring it down in the morning.”
“I need to get some baby clothes. I traded all of Carter’s.”
“Looks like we have a bunch of work to do, Mama,” Joel smiles, kissing your forehead. He still hasn't told you about the swaddles and onesies tucked in the back of his drawer, but it seems you’re finally ready for them.
You cock your head to the side, contemplating the nickname. There’s a mix of emotions with it. You’re already a mother. Joel is a father, but this is a life you’re bringing in together. It’s uncharted territory for both of you. Sarah’s mom was out the door before she was six months old. Neither of you have done this part with a partner before.
A sharp knock on the front door pulls your mind from its wandering. Joel’s brow furrows, rolling out of the bed. People don’t knock on your door often. They usually barrel right in, unless it’s bad. Your stomach drops.
Joel is out of the bedroom, shrugging on a shirt. Dina’s voice calls through your home. “Hello?” She sounds worried, desperate.
You swing your legs over the side of the bed. It takes more time to stand these days. If you try too quickly, your head rushes making you feel dizzy.
“Dina? What’s wrong?” Joel’s at the bottom of the stairs now, but his voice carries. You have to stop at the top of the stairs to catch your breath.
“Ellie is gone.”
You freeze, grabbing the railing for stability. “What?”
Joel turns around, worry etched in his face. “Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. She mentioned something about the Fireflies and a hospital, but she wouldn’t talk to me.” You make out the flicker of hurt in Dina’s face. Those two tell each other everything, or most things. You’re not sure Ellie has told her about her immunity. You all keep that one pretty close to your chests.
“Shit,” Joel mumbles. He glances between you at his back and the front door in front of him. You see the push and pull. He needs to go after her. He needs to be here for you.
His eyes settle on you. Your hand settles on top of your swollen belly. He’s looking for permission. You want to give it, but what if he’s needed here before he gets back.
“She’s been off lately. I don’t know why. She won’t talk to me.” Dina seems to sense the silent conversation going on. “I can go after her, but-“
“No, I need to go.” Joel swings back toward the teenager, both hands placed on his hips. You try to bite back the panic rising inside you. He’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine. “Do you know when she left?”
“Probably sometime before the sun came up. Shimmer isn’t in the stable.”
Joel lets out a ragged sigh, hands running over his face. You try to keep the tears away, your hormones making it difficult.
“Will you let Maria know I’m going after her? I need to pack.”
Dina nods, her eyes flickering up to you before she’s gone in a flash of dark curls. Joel turns around, hand resting on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. You swallow and walk back into the bedroom.
It’s silent at first, nothing but the sounds of draws opening and closing and the soft slaps of his leather saddle bags. You sit in silence at the edge of your bed, chewing on your lip as you watch him. Ellie needs him. It echoes on repeat in your brain.
“I can probably catch her. We’ll be back in two weeks if I don’t.”
You stare down at your ever growing belly. You could easily be pregnant when he returns, but what if you’re not? You’re fairly certain you’ll have this baby sooner rather than later, but Ellie needs him too.
“Why does she want to go back to Salt Lake?”
Joel freezes for a second, like he’s contemplating his answer. It sets an uneasy feeling in your bones. “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks some of the Fireflies are still there? That this whole cure business is still an option?”
You nod, thoughts drifting to her face when you looked at her blood a couple months ago. She looked desperate. You hadn’t seen her like that before. It was almost unnerving, like the need to be needed by humanity had returned tenfold. It made you wonder if you’d been there for her enough these past few months.
“I have to go after her.”
There’s a desperation you don’t quite recognize in Joel’s eyes, sending a thread of dread through your body. Is he leaving something out? Not telling you something? You nod, biting your lip. “I know.”
He lays his hand on your bump, fingers stretching out over it. “We’ve got time.”
You nod. “Hurry back, and be safe, okay?”
Joel kisses your forehead. “Always.”
He rides out thirty minutes later.
You try to stay busy while they’re gone, cleaning the clinic and the house thrice over as the nesting and anxiety sets in. You ask Tommy to get the crib out of the attic as you prep the corner of your bedroom for the baby, wiping it free from the dust and cobwebs.
Maria hosts a small get together for you pulling together some semblance of a baby shower, something you hadn’t had with Carter. It's nice, but you feel like they skirt around the questions nagging in their brains. Where did Ellie and Joel go? Will they be back in time? You don’t have answers. You have the same fucking question. Will they be back?
The braxton hicks kick up, so much so you think you’re in labor ten days after Joel rides out. The fear that courses through your body is so paralyzing that you just lay in bed. Your body tenses with the memory’s of Carter’s labor. It’s not the physical pain of it, but the emotional rollercoaster you went through, alone. You’re not supposed to do this alone this time.
Then, the contractions stop with no explanation and you fall into a restless sleep. You miss Joel, his warmth and comfort. His unspoken love that fills the room. You’re becoming more comfortable with the idea of it.
You miss Ellie too, worried about what she’s going through. Providing it’s still vacant, Salt Lake won’t hold any answer for her. What lengths will she go to? How many miles will she travel in search of answers you believe don’t exist? How will she handle reality?
You see the differences in Carter too. In his mind, Ellie and Joel have always been here. Two weeks without them feels like a lifetime to him, and to you.
On day twelve, your front door flies open as you come down the stairs. Ellie bursts through looking frantic and frazzled. Her short cropped hair sticks up in certain places. Dirt smudges her forehead. You’re too relieved to see her to worry about her appearance. If anything, it’s expected after two weeks of travel, but your relief is short lived.
“Did you know?” She yells. The door stays wide open behind her, rage flaming in her eyes.
“What?”
“Did you know?”
“Know what?” You step toward her, reaching out, but she backs away like a wild animal.
“He killed them! All of them!”
“Killed who? Ellie, take a deep breath.”
“Joel! He killed the fireflies! They had a cure!”
Your breath catches. It’s not that Joel has killed people. You know about the years he spent as a raider. You know the cost of surviving in this world, but this isn’t the story you have been told about Salt Lake. When you asked him why she would go back, he lied. He knew. Knew the story hadn’t lined up in Ellie’s mind.
“So he lied to you too!”
“Ellie!” Joel is stern as his frame fills your doorway.
She spins around, the week of silence she spent next to him on the road back, wrath bubbling over and focused on him. “Tell her! Tell her, Joel!” She steps toward him. “Tell her what you did!” She shoves against his shoulders.
“Ellie…” He repeats her name, softer this time.
“Don’t do that!” She turns back to you, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They were going to make a cure from me, and you stopped them! You slaughtered them!”
“They were going to kill you!”
Your eyes widen, and it makes sense. Why Joel hasn’t talked about it. Why he needed to go after her. Why Ellie feels so useless. She’d been promised the cure. He’d taken that from her with a facade of an excuse.
“You should have let them!” Ellie screams until she pushes past him, rushing out of your house.
Joel lets out a sigh, defeat evident across his features. You can’t even enjoy their homecoming, their safety, your head spinning too much.
Joel shuts the door behind him, stepping closer like he’s expecting an embrace, but you step back, a mother’s anger building in your bones. He looks surprised. “Sweetheart…”
“You lied to her.”
“I protected her.” Joel’s eyes narrow. He’s tired and irritable. Neither of you expected a fight to ensue the moment he got home. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You’ve watched her struggle with this for years!”
“They were going to kill her!”
“Have you listened to anything she’s said?”
You almost don’t recognize the Joel in front of you. He looks like a shell of the assured, warm man you know. You wonder if this is the version of Joel Tommy used to speak of. The one Joel has told you about during those late night chats when you spilled the depths of yourselves to each other, or you thought you had. The one who floated through his days, barely living.
“I couldn’t lose her!”
“Except you did!”
Joel straightens, shoulders setting in denial. “She’s alive! That’s what matters.”
“You’re missing the point!”
“You’re saying I should have let them go ahead with it! Let them cut open her head for a cure you don’t believe is possible!”
Fire blazes in Joel's eyes. You see it. There’s no rationalizing with him about this. In his eyes, there were no choices to be made. He did the only thing. It doesn’t matter what else he has to sacrifice, she’s alive and that’s all that matters. “That’s not-”
He scoffs, cutting you off. You see the pain and hurt ripple through his body, causing him to step back from you. “Sure sounds like it.”
“Joel!”
“Don’t.” He yanks the front door open. “I can’t be here right now.”
He disappears across the threshold in the blink of an eye leaving you with a mountain to process and a growing tension across your stomach.
Joel knows he’s in the wrong. He knows he shouldn’t have lied to Ellie, held the truth from you. He’s a grown man, of course he knows what’s right and wrong, but that admittance doesn’t do anything to calm him. He needs to get out. Out of the house. Out of the walls into the open. It doesn’t matter that he just came from two weeks out there.
He sneaks over the wall with more ease than he should be able. Instantly, he feels the tightening in his chest begin to ease. He paces the outside of the wall like a caged animal, the series of events reeling through his mind. He doesn’t realize how much he’s been pushing it back since they left Salt Lake. Her words, her pleas, over and over. She’d given him every opportunity to tell her the truth and he kept the lie going.
There was no cure. The words he’d utter to her after they found that couple, one dead the other infected while out on patrol.
He’d almost told her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose her. Couldn’t risk it.
His pacing becomes more frantic as he remembers the fear he felt at the thought of losing Ellie, the fear that pushed him into wiping away every firefly that crossed his path. The same fear that put lies in his mouth before he had time to think, that kept him from telling her the truth. He knew this would happen one day, but hadn’t been enough. He’d kept it from everyone, including you.
Tell me, she had pleaded with him, begged him and he still felt the pull to replace his lie with another.
She’d had to poke and prod to get the words from his mouth. Had to threaten to leave before she got the truth. That hurt almost as much as the fallout. Everyone thought he was a better man than he actually was. Ellie, you, himself, but when it came down to it. He failed that test. Good men don’t make someone threaten to leave to get the truth.
I’ll go back, but we’re done.
Joel wears a path in the fresh grass beneath his feet, letting the spring chill take over when the sun sets, leaving him in darkness. Ellie had kept her word. He’d never heard her stay quiet for so long. The loss had begun to settle in with her riding next to him.
Joel’s muscles ache from two weeks out on the road. He misses you and Carter. He hasn’t even touched you yet. Will you let him?
Getting over the wall from the outside proves more difficult than it had the first time. Which is a good thing, but had Joel feeling every one of his 59 years. Embarrassment creeps over his cheeks with each step toward your home. The one he shares with you, but he feels like a guest as he climbs the steps. He doesn’t catch a glimpse of you or Carter or anyone else through the windows.
The house is silent when he enters, no signs of life except for the faint buzzing of light bulbs. His brow furrows. You wouldn’t have left the lights on if you weren’t home. Then a faint sound comes from upstairs, movement at the very least. He follows it, placing his hand on the closed bedroom door before cracking it open.
Soft groans come from behind the cracked bathroom door followed by a whispered curse. Maria's voice follows. Joel’s throat drops into his stomach. His boots echo off the wood floor as he crosses the room. “Sweetheart?” he calls, staying on his side of the door. “Is everything alright?”
“Joel? Get in here,” you groan out.
It sends some reassurance through him to hear you so clearly before he swings the door open. His eyes go wide at the sight of you in the tub, sweat staining your skin as Maria kneels next to you. “Shit, are you?”
“Make yourself useful and hold my hand.”
He nods, kneeling beside you. Maria stands, grabbing a few instruments from the bathroom sink, she gives Joel a look that lets him know you’re near the end of labor. Your baby will be here in minutes. It sends a rush through him. “I’m sorry, Darlin.”
You grab onto his hand tightly. It’s wet from the bathwater sloshing around you as you fight to get comfortable. It’s a useless pursuit, but it doesn’t keep you from trying. “Can we do the apologizing later? I’m kinda busy at the moment.”
“Yes,” Joel takes a deep breath, his heart pounding in his ears. He squares his shoulders next to you, giving an air of assurance you know he doesn’t have. “I’m here for whatever you need.”
“I think you missed most of it.”
“Not that you’ve had much to miss,” Maria says, stern. She pissed at him, which is more than fair given everything. You’d had some time to explain what happened. “We tried to find you. Her labor progressed pretty quick.”
“Speaking of which-” You let out a gasp, face twisting in pain. “I think the baby is crowning.”
“She must be in a hurry,” Joel says.
“She?”
“Just a hunch.” Joel smiles, kissing your head.
For the next few minutes, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Your fight never happened because there’s only one thing on your minds, bringing your baby into the world. The world goes silent again, but not in a bad way. A way that makes you feel at peace, Joel’s warm hand in yours. It doesn’t take long until she announces her arrival with a fiery scream once Maria pulls her out of the water.
You hold her close, tears of relief gathering in your eyes. Joel leans in, his forehead pressed to your temple, arms wrapping around you and your daughter as she pulls air into her lungs.
“You did great, Sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair as he kisses your cheek, cupping your daughter’s head. “She’s beautiful.”
Your eyes flicker between him and your newborn. It’s the moment you’ve been envisioning for months, the one you thought you’d get with Gabe when Carter was born. A little piece of you mends. Your child soothes against your skin.
After you’re both cleaned up, Joel helps you into bed, then settles beside you. She sleeps in your arms, tiny fist clenched around one of Joel’s fingers still curled up in your softest bath towel. You brush her cheek softly.
“I believe we decided on Willa Peace?”
“Did we?” You tilt your head to the side, a grin verging on your lips. “I thought we weren’t hippies.”
Joel shrugs, tracing your shoulders. “I had a lot of time to think about it the past couple of weeks.”
“Joel…”
Dirt still traces over his face. He hasn’t had time to clean off since he got back. You catch the faint smell of sweat on his clothes and skin. “I know.”
“I would have done the same thing to save her. You know what I think about cures.” You keep your gaze on your child. It only reminds you what you brought her into. “You lied to her over and over when she needed the truth.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“I wish you would’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“This only works if we’re open with each other.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” You bite your lip. “I’m going to need some time with this one.”
Joel nods, arm wrapping around you. “I know.”
You lean into him, enjoying the quietness that surrounds the three of you.
“Willa Peace Miller,” You smile. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“Yeah.” Joel hums beside you. “Can’t believe she’s actually here.”
“And we’re both okay.”
He nods, and neither of you can tear your eyes away from the precious little being in your arms. You hang on every rise and fall of her chest, everything micro movements, the soft flutter of her eyes that never quite open. It all feels so fragile, so sacred.
You remember similar moments with Carter. When the grief and the world got too loud, you would lay on the floor or bed with him on your chest asleep. The weight of his small body was a tether that kept you from flying away.
Even in this moment, as your heart inexplicitly expands, you feel that thread of fear winding itself through your body. Another person to love and protect. Another person to keep from the jaws of the world. Another person you can’t bear to lose.
“You know,” you say, pulling Joel’s attention. “If you were ever gonna pull those baby clothes and blankets out of your drawer, now would be the time.”
His brow furrows and then eases with realization. “How long have you known they were there?”
You let out a soft chuckle. “I washed them the next time you went out on patrol. I wasn’t going to leave those filthy things in your drawer.”
“You were going through my things, I see.”
“Next time don’t try to hide something in your drawer from the person who washes your clothes.”
Joel laughs, easing out of the bed to fetch the items from the drawer. “Got it, I’ll be sneakier next time.”
“Can you get the onesie with the yellow flowers?” You bite back a smile. He doesn’t know how you often pulled the drawer open and just gazed upon the items. It helped you visualize it all even when the fear threatened to take over. Another child, and here she was. You’d been most drawn to the little yellow flowers.
Joel laughs, grabbing the onsie and the swaddle with little yellow flowers to match. You’re gentle with her as you work the small article of clothing over her tiny body. It’s a bit baggy, but you can’t complain. It just means she can wear it for longer. She sleeps through all the jostling as if she’s fully absorbed her middle name.
She’s settled back into your arms when a soft tap echoes on your door. “Mommy?” Carter’s voice comes through muffled.
“You can come in.”
The door flies open as your son bursts through the door, grin spread wide on his face. Ellie stands behind him, looking like the space might envelope her.
“Aunt Maria said I have a baby sister.”
“You want to meet her?” you ask.
Carter nods eagerly, dashing toward your bed. Joel catches him before he can jump onto the bed beside you and potentially on you.
“Daddy!” Carter’s eyes go wide. He hasn’t seen Joel in almost two weeks.
Joel laughs, arms tightening around the boy. “Hey, bud.”
Your eyes meet Ellie’s. Her eyes are red, bags deep underneath. You motion her next to you. She hesitates before sliding onto the bed beside you. She’s timid, keeping to the edge, eyes flicking over you and Willa.
“You can get closer.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I never got to hug you earlier.”
She looks down, eyes scanning over your comforter like she’s reliving her homecoming. Once she’s close enough, your arm slips around her shoulders, tugging her close. She nuzzles into your side like a child seeking comfort. “You’re alright?” she asks.
“Yeah… we both are.” You say, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“But I’m still sorry you’re going through this.”
Ellie seems to sink into your further, eyes pinned to Willa. She doesn’t answer you. She doesn’t look at Joel as he sinks next to you with Carter, but you feel her tense when he does.
“What’s her name?” Ellie asks.
“Willa,” you reply.
“Baby Willa.” Carter grins proudly.
And the five of you sit there together in silence. You try to push it out of your head that it’s the last time you all might be together for a while. Even now, you feel the underlying anger rolling through Ellie’s body. This is a wound that’s been festering. It’s going to take time to heal.
Eventually, Ellie slips from your side without a word to leave. She’s barely out the door when Joel goes after her.
“Ellie,” Joel says, catching her on the front porch.
Her head whips around, expression set in stone. “I’m here for them, not you.” She keeps her voice low to not be overheard by nosy neighbors. “They’re my family. Do you understand?”
Joel’s apology catches in his throat. He’s been apologizing the whole way back from Salt Lake. He knows there’s nothing he can say to rush this process. He made a decision, and these are his consequences. “Yeah… I got it.”
“Good.”
She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else.
The bed is empty next to you, the sheets cool to the touch. Your eyes blink open. Cool moonlight shines through the window. You glance at the bathroom door. No light shines through the crease. Joel’s name is on your lips, interrupted by his voice.
“Do you like the butterflies?”
You turn to your side. Joel sits next to the crib, talking to Willa. She’s awake, moonlight reflecting off her big eyes. She’s content and still.
“Your big sister liked butterflies. When they come out in the summertime, I feel her around me.”
She stares at Joel, mesmerized by his voice. Your eyes float upward to the mobile Joel made. He hadn’t explained it to you, but you already knew. Sarah had pinned them all throughout their Austin home. You keep one stuck to the window above the kitchen sink. There’s one tucked in his nightstand drawer.
“I think she sent you to me.” He lets it sit there, contemplating the weight and depth of what he said. “I think she sent you to me, your momma, Ellie, I suppose she’s your big sister too, Carter. All of you.
“Her name was Sarah. She would have loved you.” He chuckles. “She used to ask me for a baby brother or sister. I didn’t know your momma yet… Well, I guess I did, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.”
You stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Joel’s eyes lock on yours. He smiles, shooting you a wink. He looks younger under the moonlight, more at ease. The creases in his skin are less apparent.
“Your momma, she’s quite a bit younger than me.” The smile stays pinned to his face. “It’s not so creepy now- least that’s what she tells me- but it would’ve been then, and I was a decent fella back before the world went to shit. Besides, between you and me.” He leans closer to Willa’s ear, but his eyes are still on you. “Your momma had a pretty big crush on me back then.”
You groan, heat flushing your cheeks. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it is. You chuck his pillow at him. Joel catches it, laughing. It’s the kind that sits deep in one’s chest and bubbles up with the purest kind of joy. You can’t help but smile.
He slowly stands, grunting as he does. You hear the familiar pop of his joints. He leans into the crib. You notice Willa’s eyes have fallen shut. “I love you, my little wildflower.” He kisses her cheek before falling back into bed next to you.
His arm wraps around your waist. Pulling you close, he steals a kiss on your forehead. “I’m getting too old to sit on the floor like that.”
“You’re getting too old to have a newborn, yet here we are.” Your fingers run through his hair.
“Still can’t believe she’s here… you’re both healthy.”
“Neither can I.” You glance back at the crib. She’s just a few days old and already, you can’t imagine life without her.
Tears well at the corner of your eyes. Your heart has grown so much. You thought you couldn’t open it to more people, yet here you are. The you of 4 years ago would be too terrified of losing this life to give it a chance, the price of pain too high. Yet here you are, embracing it, taking that risk, because this is living, and the love and belonging far outweigh the potential for pain even as it grows with every passing day. You fell into the trap,and it’s a crowded one, but it’s a happy one.
Joel kisses your cheek. “You should get some sleep before she wakes up hungry.”
“Mmm,” you hum as his hands move soothingly over your back. “Someone not named Willa woke me up.”
Joel chuckles. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”
But even now you feel your eyelids getting heavier.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“About?”
You let your eyes fall shut as Joel massages out a knot in your back. You lean into it. “About Sarah sending us to you.”
“I did.” He kisses your forehead.
Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites
@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller
@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa
#woman (joel miller)#joel miller#joel miller x reader#tlou#the last of us#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#the last of us hbo#tlou fanfiction#pedrostories#pedro stories#ppcu fanfiction#em's fics
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can i request chilchuck making reader their favorite dish when they get back to the surface? like inviting them over for dinner to try and confess properly :3
the secret ingredient
…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader
…tags! fluff, post-canon, senshi being wise
…wc! 949
…notes! this is so cute… what da hell… enjoy your meal 🥺
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”
The half-foot is running around the kitchen of his home like a headless chicken, which is coincidentally what he’s holding over his head rushing from the oven to the hob, and back to see if things are stable.
The one who remains perfectly calm and still, stirring a little pot of gravy is Senshi, glancing to look over at Chilchuck trying to stir some vegetables.
“...You forgot the–”
“I know I forgot the salt!”
With clear agitation, Chilchuck shrilly screams the words back at Senshi as he scavenges the cabinets around him for the salt. Senshi already showed disdain for how disorganised Chilchuck’s kitchen is. At the time, he had simply dismissed it, but now it’s biting back when he clearly doesn’t know where things go and how they got there.
Chilchuck tries not to overflow the vegetables with salt as he mutters to himself. “They’ll be here in an hour, we don’t have an hour to fix all this up – Senshi can you hurry the gravy up?!”
Giving his friend a sidelong glance, Senshi keeps stirring, as gravy shouldn’t be left alone. “No can do, Chilchuck. This takes time.”
“We don’t have—”
“Were you not prepping this all beforehand?” Senshi looks around at the already made meals. “I love food myself, but… this might be a bit…”
Chilchuck’s glare once Senshi turns back at him could kill. “What? Much? You think it’s ‘a bit much’?” He throws his hands in the air. “They deserve the best meal I can make for them! Aren’t you always talking about the best way to bond is through food?”
“Well, yes, but–”
“Listen, Senshi,” Chilchuck slaps his hands down on Senshi’s shoulder. “This… This needs to be perfect. I can’t go and confess to them if it isn’t.”
The dwarf takes in Chilchuck’s worries, before pointing behind him. “The chicken is–”
“SHIT, THE CHICKEN IS READY!”
Senshi turns down the heat of his part of the hob as Chilchuck runs off, and begins pouring the gravy into a jug. “I thought you’d know more than anyone that quality should be favoured over quantity,” he muses.
Chilchuck, upon retrieving the chicken from the oven, grumbles incoherently. He sighs. “I guess I don’t want to disappoint them…”
“I’m sure they’d love even just one portion of their favourite meal with you,” Senshi advises, patting Chilchuck’s shoulder. “Even with all of this food, you’re missing the secret ingredient.”
With confusion etched into his features, Chilchuck looks at Senshi. “What?” He flatly responds. Did he miss something?!
Senshi smiles – or rather Chilchuck learns that when his cheeks puff and his eyes close that he’s likely smiling – and chuckles slightly.
“Love, o’ course.”
Chilchuck looks like he is losing brain cells in real time. “Love,” he repeats, in slight disbelief.
“Yep.”
“Love.”
“That’s it!” Senshi takes a step back. “Do ya happen to know their favourite dish?”
Chilchuck can’t believe he’s about to learn some moral about love at a time like this. “...Yeah, why?”
“Let’s scrap all this. I can hand them all out to families around the place,” Senshi graciously offers. “Instead, make a two-portion meal, their favourite, for your dinner. And sprinkle in some love.”
The wink Senshi gives him results in Chilchuck’s skin going hot in embarrassment. Really? That’s his suggestion?
“I wanna impress them,” he says, quieter.
“I know ya do, but you can’t do that rushing around doing the bare minimum of cooking.”
The silence of the kitchen fills Chilchuck’s ears, and suddenly he’s aware of the heat of the room, how sweaty he is, and how tired he feels.
He really has been going overboard from stress, huh?
The half-foot takes a deep breath, grounding himself in this reality again and meekly nods. “Yeah. Fine. You can give all these meals away to the townsfolk.
Together, the dwarf and half-foot put the meals in appropriate containers and bags. Right before Senshi was about to leave, Chilchuck stops him.
“Hm?” Senshi turns as his attention is grabbed. He knows Chilchuck isn’t the best with his feelings by now, but as his friend, he feels it’s his duty to at least help him.
The half-foot doesn’t look him in the eye when he says, “thank you,” cheeks flushed.
Senshi perks up at Chilchuck’s gratitude. “Not a problem,” he returns, leaving the home.
Now alone, Chilchuck checks the time. You’ll be arriving in 45 minutes.
…Sure, he can make one meal by the time you show up. With his secret ingredient he can.
It takes a strenuous amount of precision on Chilchuck’s part, but with his line of work there’s nothing that he can’t do. His love is poured into the meal, from how he stirs the mix from how he gently places a little stick of parsley on the top.
‘Tis finished, the little Senshi in Chlichuck’s head heaves a sigh of relief.
Right on time too, considering the knock on the door. Chilchuck wipes the beads of sweat off his forehead and rushes to welcome you in, before noting he needs to get dressed into something nicer.
When he comes back, you smile that wonderful grin. “Thank you for making dinner for us, Chil.”
His secret ingredient shines through for you, from how he presents the meal to how he returns your smile, the lines under his eyes crinkling. “Really, the honour is all mine.”
He offers his hand out to you, and you accept. Even if you’re somewhat surprised, Chilchuck has always been quite a gentleman around you.
Chilchuck thinks that, maybe, he is able to confess with just his confidence and love alone. There’s no need for frivolities.
Just one secret ingredient seals the deal.
#✮ grimm's fics!#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi imagines#dungeon meshi x reader#delicious in dungeon#delicious in dungeon imagines#delicious in dungeon x reader#chilchuck#chilchuck tims#chilchuck imagines#chilchuck x reader#chilchuck tims imagines#chilchuck tims x reader
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[ mess it up ― diluc ]
"how could I think that all that i gave you was enough? 'cause every time i get too close, i just go mess it up."
cw. gn!reader, angst, ex-lovers, mentions a minorly unhealthy relationship, diluc with trauma (canon event, i didn't do it to him), mentions of alcohol and drinking, light swearing, a lot of adelinde content! thinking over the breakup and having regrets
aquamarine's findings. repost from my old blog, this was sorta revenge for him being c6 but i love my husband i swear // mess it up, gracie abrams.
DILUC was a stubborn man with a tough shell, one that appeared to never be faltering no matter how many people tried. adelinde had spent countless evenings standing at the door to master diluc's office, a glass of grape juice in her tired hands as she tried so stubbornly to win the young master's heart back over; maybe he wasn't going to be this cold and sheltered for the entirety of his life, if only she tried a little bit harder.
the very cavalry captain of the knights of favonius - his own brother - had even tried endlessly, purposefully causing mischief around the dawn winery in an attempt to drag out that mischievous redhead child that diluc was storing away in the dark of his heart. despite kaeya's attempts, it was all futile and he'd be merely scolded by his brother.
sometimes even jean attempted to grasp the reins of an old friend, regardless of the turmoil left between the wine industry tycoon and the knights of favonius. he was once honoured among the knights, feared by their enemies and their youngest captain; what had happened so achingly? now all she can do is grimace at her own fruitless attempts at small talk in the streets of mondstadt, on days where the clouds blanket the sun. it's dull, dreary and the tired look in diluc's eyes couldn't have matched the weather anymore than they did.
in the stupidity of your own decisions, something you tried to excuse as mere young love, you too had make your move to try fix something that perhaps should stay broken. yet it worked, perhaps momentarily. he cracked, faint smiles etched onto his face whenever he'd see you. his calloused hands would stop wiping tankards with a damp cloth just to press a soft kiss to your head when you visited him at work, his focus no longer on the tavern or work for a few seconds.
on days where the sun hugged mondstadt, basking it in golden light that brought smiles out on every face in the city, you'd find diluc among the grapevines, his sleeves folded up to his elbows as he partakes in some hard labour around the winery; after all, he still cared enough to give his workers a day's rest to enjoy the sunshine. you'd join him, happily harvesting grapes in delicate grasps of your hand however diluc wouldn't fail to miss you popping the occasional one into your mouth with a cheeky grin.
regardless of the lingering touches and gentle, featherlight kisses, nothing could truly fix him, could it? for all you know, your attempts had been nothing more than another day, another week, another month for the redhead. the same redhead that you'd dedicated hours to - that you'd dedicated your heart to. what a fool, placing something so delicate into the hands of someone who didn't know how to take care of it.
diluc wishes he'd told you that sooner. he wishes the warnings had slipped from his chapped lips into the night air on the evening you'd confessed your feelings, that he didn't give an ounce of care for love. he was going to focus on the winery, the business - his father's legacy. perhaps it was the only thing he had left to grasp of him now that he'd settled in the post-mourning phase of his young adult life but that twinkle in your eyes, how could he say no?
grumbling to himself, he sips at the bitter liquid in his glass before slamming it down moments later. it's supposed to taste sweet, at least that's what kaeya insinuates every time he steals a bottle from the cellar. diluc never cared, he never drank. he couldn't stand wine yet he kept producing it like it was his lifeblood but here he was, ruby eyes boring into the dark red liquid that fills the winery's infamous glasses his mother had collected when he was still too young to remember.
adelinde lurks in the shadows, a frown adorning that pretty face all the other maids gushed over; she didn't look a day over her age, still as youthful as ever as if she hadn't watched the young masters grow up into grown men with differing personalities nonetheless. a soft sigh escapes her lips, her hands clasped in front of her neatly pressed apron as she makes her presence known.
"i thought i'd never see you drink wine." she comments, her eyes drinking in the way diluc's body tenses in the orange glow of the candle on his desk. his gaze lifts to her, softening ever so slightly when he sees the maid. he feels vulnerable - no, he is vulnerable. nothing will bring back the relationship he'd thrown out so effortlessly like paper in the breeze and that bites at him, tears at his flesh while he's still conscious. the thought makes his body ache more.
"first time for everything," his voice is hoarse as he replies, gruff as he leans back into the plush velvet of his desk chair. that familiar black coat with the fur trim hangs over the back of it and adelinde sighs again, "it's late, why haven't you retired for the night?"
he's sober, adelinde notes as she steps further into his office, her lithe hands lifting the bottle of wine he'd been drinking from to admire the label she'd seen no ends of times throughout her life. diluc watches without another word. he realises how absurd it must seem for him to be drinking the wine, so out of character it would probably turn his father in his grave but it drowned out the pain or at least, it dulled it for a while.
"you know i've never retired while you're still awake," adelinde retorts as she places the wine bottle back down on his desk. the thud draws diluc to his senses and he clears his throat, pulling his large hand away from the glass as he seats himself upright, "you're still thinking about them?"
"do you think... they'd let me back in, adelinde?" he asks in his moment of vulnerability, his rough fingertips tracing over the rings that decorate his fingers. adelinde's lips pull into a tight line, "if i pulled myself together and let them see it happen... do you think they'd let it happen?"
adelinde knows the answer is no, she'd caught wind weeks ago that you'd moved on from the situation and was fixing your wounds in the aftermath of what had happened. she'd uttered it to diluc before but it appears he'd either had one glass too many or he'd chose to ignore it in a delusional hope to fix himself again.
"master diluc, you know-" she cuts herself off, her eyes sorrowful as she drinks in the way his lower lip trembles. his breath is shaking, vulnerable and she's reminded of the young boy who'd come running to her whenever master crepus scolded him for his mischievous antics.
"i fucked up, i know," he groans, a slight crack in his voice as his hands bunch into fists on the arms of his chair. adelinde makes a soft noise in response, "and now i just have to sit here, kicking myself with my gut in a knot while they're happier."
there's a silence that fills the office. wind creaks in the attic, adelinde realises she'll have to chase up the maintenance workers on fixing all the gaps and there's a subtle crackle of the flame burning on diluc's desk. she takes note of the dark circles under the young man's eyes, hollowing his pale face from the lack of sleep he'd been receiving since he cut things off with you.
at least, that's the story he told her - that he was the one to cut the ties holding the pair of you together. it wasn't the truth and diluc thinks he'll never utter the truth to anyone, a possibility as to why he'd stopped drinking wine the moment adelinde made herself known. he's a lightweight and he's self aware, the last thing he wants is to spill out the truth like a sobbing mess, tears staining his cheeks while his breath reeks of alcohol.
the truth was you'd been the one to finish things to protect yourself. your hands clasped around your breaking heart, trembling and shaking in a last ditch effort to stop things from collapsing completely. diluc couldn't love, not in your eyes. you'd tried so hard but you knew behind the acts of affection, he wasn't there. it was as if you was kissing a ghost, someone who lacked the will to be in that situation.
in the long term, it made you feel unloved. that's when you began to recognise that you was holding pieces of your shattering heart and desperately trying to piece it back together again, fumbling endlessly with your own heart all while you tried to force feed love into the winery owner - the one who undoubtedly was up until that point, your lover.
diluc doesn't blame you for your decision but he regrets it, every ounce of it. he considers that the whole relationship could have been avoided but at the same time, by the time you'd ended things, he'd began to crave your touch, your love, your kisses. he'd hear your voice when you wasn't even present. it happened too late however and now he pays the price, the heartbreak of his own regrets for not trying harder.
this truth he'd keep locked in his shallow heart, his lips pursed into a tight line as his eyes drag over the quill on his desk - yet again, another thing he doesn't dare bring into this conversation with the maid. he'd wrote you numerous letters, just begging to hear from you so that mayhaps his heart could rest a little.
he would tear every one of them up and only one of them was ever sent.
"diluc!" your voice chirps in his memory, your cotton shawl drifting in the infamous breeze of mondstadt as you stand upon the grass hill, clouds decorating the blue sky above your head. a smile graces your face, that specific one that he adored despite never mentioning it to you - a mistake on his behalf. your eyes crease with your smile, a gentle laugh reverberating from you, "hurry up!"
diluc finds himself trudging up the grassy slope to join you, his fateful beloved. his shoes find dips to keep his footing in the steepest parts, a calloused hand occasionally pressing to the sharp grass blades to stop him slipping. eventually, he joins you. he stands at your side, drinking in your face in sheer admiration before it dawns on him that this isn't his reality, not anymore.
the bedsheets are damp when he wakes, moonlight still filtering through the large ornate glass windows of his chambers. an exasperated breath escapes his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them as his head falls back onto the feather filled pillows. fiery red hair sprawls out beneath him, no longer tied up as tears sting at his eyes, threatening to spill in the vulnerable silence left in his wake.
every time he gets too close, mere inches from a promised happiness within his grasp, he just goes and messes it up, like always.
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#: recorded in the archives#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#diluc x reader#genshin diluc#genshin angst#genshin impact#genshin#diluc angst#genshin x reader
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Weekly thoughts!
Hooboy, the big episode! First off, I think everyone knows by now that you probably shouldn't read these if you haven't read the latest episode, but I ESPECIALLY mean that this week! Talking about some way bigger than usual spoilers.
Phew, this was a big one, both from a writing and drawing perspective. I actually spent a full day on that last panel alone, but writing it took way longer than usual too. Going back and forth between Bell's speech and Jericho's backstory played perfectly like a movie in my head, but it was really hard to portray it as a comic and it was one of the few times I was struggling with the limitations of the format. I think I pulled it off though, since everyone seemed to follow along fine! So while it was probably just a neat scene to everyone else, I'm rather proud of that haha.
As for the actual contents of the episode, I'm also glad everything hit w/ the majority of the audience for the most part. I know a handful were confused about if that was Bell or Jericho who did that, but to those people, I remind you it's been loooong established Jericho can control his extensions (Bell, Charlie, and Claude. Remember, they all took injections of Jericho's blank space?). Also on that note, Bell does not have her own scion... Only Rex and Jericho do. Bell, Charlie and Claude all took injections of Jericho's blank space, thus get to borrow some of his power. I recommend re-reading ep 80 if you need a refresher.
I do consider this ep kind of a big reveal of Jericho's true colors. I mean, you guys have known he's the main villain for ages now, but this is the ep that reveals his "better world for blanks" act is kind of a façade and what he's really seeking is a worse world for humans. The fall of humans benefitting blanks is just kind of a bonus. I'm glad a few people caught onto this with the fact that one of the worst horrors he experienced was having his autonomy taken away from him, then he proceeds to do just that to Bell.
And speaking of Jericho's horrors- Before this season launched, I dropped a bunch of hints about upcoming things. One of them was that the most disturbing scene (in my opinion) was coming up. I was actually referring to what happened to Kallie. I'm not sure if it was as disturbing to everyone else (I totally get like if Claude's leg thing fucked people up more), but being evaporated into nothingness but not dying was an existential dread that really fucks me up haha. If it fucked even a couple of other people up, then I did my job.
I don't have too much else to say about the contents of the episode. It was so hard to bite my tongue for weeks as everyone predicted pretty much every character but Desmond was gonna get it. I'm sorry I don't have too much else to say about him right now given what happened, but I definitely will in the upcoming weeks.
I guess the only other note I have is I might as well address something that bugs me slightly- It's definitely a minority but there's a handful of people who seem done with the series because "too many things go wrong." To which... I'm not sure what to tell ya. I'm fine with critique and criticism to be clear, but honestly, this is one thing I'm actually really confident I'm good at balancing. I'm not sure where people are coming from with "nothing good ever happens in this series" when this season alone has had probably the cutest and fluffiest scenes. Rex has a canon girlfriend, he had his first kiss with her, Desmond was reunited with his sister and learned to accept himself, Lyss learned to move past her trauma and accept blanks, Rex was reunited with Shnee, Rex's scion turns out to be a puppy dog w/ a crush. I'm aware a lot of these got kind of crushed with this latest ep...but that's.. kind of. the. point??? That's how you write tragedy and impactful scenes??
I dunno, maybe this is personal to me because it's ALWAYS bugged me when someone tells me they think a show is bad because it's "too dark." Like no... It's not *bad* because it's too dark, you just don't like dark themes, and that's okay. I TOTALLY get if CoB has gotten too dark for some people- it's definitely hit some hard themes and subjects, but I don't like to accept that as a critique. It just means it's not for you and that's okay. There's a ton of other great comics that are more light-hearted! I think the TLDR of this is it will always annoy me when people say something is bad just because it's not their taste.
Now. That said... everyone is completely valid in their hate of Jericho. I, however, still love him.
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AU details now I am very interested (you don’t have to)
HI ILLY THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I AM GLAD TO OBLIGE. I'M ASSUMING THIS IS ABOUT MY BUG NOIRE AU LET ME KNOW IF IT'S NOT
So basically. Cracks knuckles. The set-up of the AU is based nearly entirely on two concepts: 1. In the show, Bug Noire cannot stop grinning when she first unifies the Miraculous which I have capitalized on completely and taken to be a consequence of a power rush, and 2. Marinette in this scenario is the only one given both Miraculous, as Master Fu (or perhaps another, more strict order of guardians?) thought that entrusting the two most powerful Miraculous to multiple people was too dangerous.
(GIF taken from the Wiki!)
So in this AU, Mari is Paris' only magic defender, and she is SCARY. She has all the same incredible forward thinking that Ladybug does in canon, but without anyone to support her or protect her, she's gotten used to absolutely tanking damage and pressing on regardless with a wild air of enthusiasm. The unity of the two Miraculous of creation and destruction in this AU are nearly unbearable for mortals to handle; because they, unified, are Gimmi, representation of all of existence, wielding both at one causes interesting consequences.
(Screenshot also from the Wiki :3)
For Mari, that means she's full of a powerful joy and elation to be participating as an active agent of Existence (or Balance) in the universe, but she also revels in destruction and chaos, and every time she transforms she finds it harder to adjust to the more limited understanding that mortals possess. Tikki and Plagg are very worried about her, and Marinette is too, but under careful watch Mari cannot part with the Miraculous and instead presses on-- to her own detriment.
Alya and Adrien, on the other hand, have never met Mari. They're both newcomers to the school, but Marinette as a full-time hero never makes an appearance there. Instead, both Alya and Adrien befriend Nino who is their guiding light. He mitigates Alya's relentless drive to investigate akumas and vouches for Adrien's goodness to the class when Chloe puts it into question. The three grow close, but something's missing.
Alya meets Bug Noire when she's put herself into the battlefield, eager to film the mystery of the akuma and record it to the public on her BugBlog, since Noire herself seldom interacts with the public. Adrien, on the other hand, meets Bug Noire when he's being targeted by the akuma, and his inner desire to help recognizes that Noire, as wild and energetic as she is, seems to be struggling in a way that others don't see.
Noire, drunk on power but still fighting tooth and nail to retain a sense of her identity and her desire for companionship, is ecstatic to speak with Adrien and Alya but tries to keep them away from the fights as much as possible. Adrien and Alya, being themselves, of course don't let this stand and repeatedly put themselves in positions where Bug Noire would be a fool not to rely on them to help wear down an akuma, or evacuate the area, or break an object, or make shaky banter to. This grounds Bug Noire in a way she clings to, and she begins visiting Alya and Adrien not as a Miraculous user but as their friend.
In my head I feel like Alya and Adrien would convince Bug in the end to give them her Miraculous "to inspect" (can we see them!! They're so cool and you can use a break), and Marinette, Tikki, and Plagg would finally be able to speak to Alya and Adrien (and Nathalie and Alya's parents and Nino, presumably) to try to seek out the support they've been lacking after being out in this position. Perhaps this would be the catalyst for convincing the guardians that having multiple Miraculous active is a blessing rather than a needless risk?
Anyways that's all I've got for now!! Thank you for the ask Illy I am giving you a hug
#gray's soapbox#asks#illy 🌠#star emoji for you!!#solitary hero au#miraculous ladybug#bug noire#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#alya cesaire#ml tikki#ml plagg#ml gimmi#So many image IDs dies to death#gray draws#long post
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with fizz being word-of-god demi (and tbh i'd just read him that way regardless, but now they oughta make it show canon, thems the rules), thinking about whether he'd ever had sex before he met asmodeus, about how the first person he was in love with was blitzø and that clearly didn't work out, and also about him as disabled and also him as a sex object in hell, there's a lot to unpack
and then on the flipside, it seems so far as if asmodeus hasn't ever been in a romantic relationship prior to fizzarolli, and of course he does have casual sex, that's his whole job, but that's also interesting -- how does asmodeus relate to sexual attraction, when his job is about reading and reacting to others' sexual desires, and how that pertains to reading his relationship with fizzarolli as about building something more longterm that deconstructs both of the ways their public image as sexual ideals rely on what others can get from them (rather than what they feel and want)
essentially they're both in sex work or related to that work in some way, they both understand the world of desire and how to operate in that world, but their relationship to each other (romantic and sexual) is something brand new, it's something not defined by normative relationship structures (for that matter, a sin and an imp, as metaphor for all of this, is that something brand new as well?)
but yeah asmodeus is aspec too, in my mind, which i think would be just the kind of deconstruction of "the sin of lust" that would work in this kind of story. definitely somewhere on the aro side of things, fun to think about also from the ace perspective, and that's one of the (many) reasons he and fizz understand each other so well -- they're not coming at this with an innate "this is the way things are meant to be" set of ideas. there are no assumptions of who they're supposed to be when they're together (well, there are when they're in public, but once those have been challenged head-on and they come out of the closet in s2, so to speak...), so they get to build that brand new identity together in their own way
i just think that concept would be neat
#fizzarolli#helluva asmodeus#fizzmodeus#helluva boss#aspec fizzarolli#aspec asmodeus#my meta#hb meta#should be building a database Just for the aspec meta i do which is... most of it
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IM BACK AND I HAVE PERCIVER HEAD CANONS TO SHARE!!!
They meet in first year on the Hogwarts express. Percy's holding a giant book on third year divination. While this makes him a less attractive friend in the eyes of others', it's what brings Oliver Wood to the same train car as him. They introduce themselves and shake hands.
In second year, Oliver makes the Quidditch team as their keeper. Percy still spends the majority of his time indoors, but he goes to Ollie's practices and games every once in a while. After one specific game, Oliver comes back to the dorm with his breath cut short and with tears in his eyes. He stops breathing and the world goes spinning between each of his eyes; a panic attack, madame Pomphrey later describes it. The crowd triggered it.
Percy comforts him, sits on the same floor as him, rubbing the boy's back, repeating reassurance: "you're safe here,"
"You were good out there, really."
"I'll sit with you for as long as it takes."
Oliver comes to with his head on Percy's shoulder.
In third year, Percy goes to every practice and every game. He rubs Oliver's back when he returns to the dorm. When he loses for the first time, Percy has to chase him to stop him from running away, never to be found again.
"Hey, listen," Percy says, out of breath from the running. He doesn't understand how Oliver's barely breaking a sweat. "Tell me, okay? What went wrong out there?"
He gives Oliver a minute to pause and think.
Oliver gathers his thoughts and his breath. The sweat dripping down his neck fuels him, gives him energy. It clouds his head. He needs to calm down.
"I slipped on my broom." He says finally. "I wasn't planted on it properly."
"Good. What are you gonna do to fix it?" Percy replies, breathing better.
"I'll improve my grip."
"Good."
The two of them stand there, just breathing.
"Thanks."
In fourth year, they have the Yule Ball. Both of them are fifteen. Their year mates are out and about minging, asking each other out. The two of them stay where they are. They don't speak of the ball.
They go to the dance together, as friends of course. Percy keeps adjusting the collar to his hand-me-down dress robes. Oliver assures him that his attire is charming.
He sighs.
"If you had to wear these, I guarantee you'd understand me." Percy says. Over the summer his voice has changed. It's deeper and richer. Oliver loves it. Wishes he could taste it. Wishes these thoughts would go away. He grins and laughs Percy off.
When it's time to dance, they run away to a balcony that Percy didn't even know existed. They laugh and chat, making jokes at the dancers' expenses. Percy's had a bit to drink, (had he known the punch was alcoholic, he wouldn't have gone near it) and his face is flushed deep red.
"AND- and then when the-" he howls laughter. Oliver has to stop him from falling over himself.
Oliver thinks... He can't think at all. Suddenly. The two of them are so close together. He's got his arm around Percy's back and Percy's leaning against him, hands on Oliver's chest, still laughing. When he stops and catches his breath, though, the two of them seem to freeze. Oliver's heart skips a beat when he can physically feel Percy tensing up.
He kisses him.
Very awkwardly.
He made little action with his lips, just gently brushing his against the other boy's. The boy in question grins. Now it's Oliver's turn to flush deep red.
"ha-HA! No, wait, no, Oliver, wait."
Percy pulls Oliver back towards him by the arm. They're tangled with each other again, Oliver giving in to the urge to smile, just a bit, even after being embarrassed.
They kiss. Properly this time. It's the best thing Oliver's felt in his life. When they pull away, he whispers,
"Are you my boyfriend now?"
Percy smiles.
"Yes."
In fifth year, nightmares attack. O.W.Ls. Percy never sleeps anymore.
Oliver has to drag him away from his work table and force him onto his bed. When that bed later becomes repurposed for more studies, Oliver forces him onto his own bed. They sleep together and their dorm mates start getting suspicious.
Oliver sleeps in pajama bottoms and nothing else. Percy sleeps in a sweater and boxers. They spoon and Oliver rests his arm in front of Percy's only exit to stop him from crawling out of bed to study. Little does he know, Percy would never dare leave.
During the waking hours, Oliver drags Percy to other important places, such as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The outdoors. Interaction with other human beings. It's a tough life out here for him.
When the exams finally start approaching, they do not stop making out. It's the only thing that gets Percy's mind off things. Only because there's nothing more distracting than Oliver's mouth.
To his own surprise and nobody else's, Percy passes his O.W.Ls with flying colours. Oliver passes alright despite not studying.
In sixth year it's the same for their N.E.W.Ts.
Something changes in the relationship between Percy and the rest of the student body, especially the girls. Oliver knows he's gotten taller. And his freckles have cleared enough for his gorgeous face to be visible. His voice is still as beautiful as it was in fourth year. He's started rolling up the sleeves of his sweaters, and the halls seem to swoon rapidly when they spot his forearms. Oliver always knew that Percy could have this power over people; he'd been subject to it himself. But it annoys him. And what's even worse is that Percy doesnt seem to notice when he's being flirted with.
He gets into the habit of writing on Oliver with pens, a strange Muggle device that's actually pretty nifty. Some mornings, Oliver wakes up with markings he doesn't even remember. Percy writes on his chest a lot. Draws on his collarbone. The most repeated word is Percy's name.
Oliver looks in the mirror one day, at his shirtless body.
PROPERTY OF PERCIVAL IGNATIUS WEASLEY
It says this all over his torso.
He grins. No one's stealing Percy from him anytime soon.
They pass their N.E.W.Ts.
The Summer Before Seventh Year
France is a gorgeous place, Oliver realises. Filled with gorgeous girls, too. He's lounging at the beach when one of them asks him out. He's put on the spot and exposed, wearing nothing but his swimming shorts and sunglasses. He fumbles over his words.
"Err, I mean, no..." The girl frowns. She has gorgeous eyes. "I mean, yes, sure. Is Friday at 7 PM okay with you?"
It doesn't even occur to him that she's a Muggle.
Immediately after he's uttered these words, he regrets it. But he can't stand her up. And she's already walking away. Merlin, Percy's gonna kill him.
It's just one date and Oliver doesn't even enjoy. They don't touch each other at all; they don't even hold hands. But Oliver knows what he's done, and he knows what he has to do.
He writes a letter.
I love you. I'm sorry. I couldn't live with myself if I kept it secret.
He sends it away with his black owl.
At the Burrow, Percy receives two letters back to back on his birthday. The first is from Hogwarts, confirmation that he's this year's Head Boy. He jumps around the kitchen, all dignity forgotten, and hugs his mother with an enormous grin on his face.
The second is from Oliver.
How quickly Percy's face turns sour. Mrs Weasley asks if he's okay.
Tears sting his eyes. Outside, he tells his mother everything.
One day before the start of the school year, the Weasley's are staying at the Leakey Cauldron overnight. Percy hears pebbles being thrown at his window and goes to see who it is.
Oliver Wood. Merlin.
Percy goes downstairs, striding towards his partner. Punches him in the face and immediately feels bad, but doesn't let that stop him. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and a yell and a sob,
"How could you?"
"I'm so sorry, Percy."
"Why did you do it?"
"We didn't do anything. Didn't touch her. I remember what you wrote on me."
Percy breathes in deep.
"I wasn't talking about just your body, Oliver. I was talking about you. All of you." He exhales, trying to hold himself together.
"I wouldn't think twice about rejecting some Muggle girl for you. You think I didn't notice when the whole female population at school suddenly wanted to date me? Just because of my body? I resisted them for you, Oliver. Because I love you. Why couldn't you do that for me?"
"I don't know. I'm so, so sorry."
They decide to take a break from their relationship. When they start attending school again, their dorm mates wonder why they've stopped sleeping together.
#perciver#percy weasley#oliver wood#hp#<3#this turned very angsty indeed#wrote this from 1AM to 2AM on low battery because it needed to be written#youre welcome
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@anininas I’ll answer your ask (which TOOOOOOTALLY isn’t almost a month old NOPE) here to keep things organised but I. Dived into a little bit of a rabbit hole with this one and debated posting about it for a bit cuz I realised WAY TOO LATE Oh. You probably mean like. Fantasy cowboys not real-world cowboys HXNSHENDJDJ but let me ramble anyways!!!!
So the origin of ‘cowboys’ as a concept comes from Mexico but more specifically when the Spanish colonised Mexico they brought with them a bunch of cattle that obviously needed to be hearded so over time the Vaquero tradition of horse-mounted herding evolved from there, which is more or less how we’ve gotten the modern idea of stereotypical rootin-tootin cowboys. That’s obviously like a VEEEEEEEEEEERY watered down explanation and I would REEEALLY recommend you go researching the topic yourself if you’re interested cuz I am FAR from a historian HXBDBDNDNXN [Heres the Wikipedia article (I know) if you need a starting point: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vaquero just keep in mind it’s also pretty bare-bones too]
But it’s why you’ll often see a similar floral pattern on Luis’ jacket on Western saddles
It’s a kind of leather carving that was APPARENTLY inspired by old medieval Spanish saddles, which would make sense cuz Y’know,,,,, it was Spain that colonised Mexico BCNDNNDS
I’m gonna make a post specifically about this and the designs on Luis’ jacket later so hold onto that thought BUT ANYWAYS. IF WE’RE TALKING LIKE. FANTASY COWOYS. FICTIONAL NO-CONSEQUENCES COWBOYS I HAVE A LOT TO SAY
I imagine even in canon Luis PROOOOBABLY knows how to ride horses. I don’t think we actually SEEE any horses in Valdelobos but it’s a mountain terrain village with the nearest town being god knows how far away so I don’t think it’d be totally unreasonable to assume Luis knows how to ride a horse which is PERFECT FOR US cuz then we don’t have to wonder how he learnt in a theoretical cowboy au
I can also imagine Luis- now hear me out- being more of a dressage rider than a cattle herder. Have you ever seen those funny videos of the horses at the olympics doing a silly dance to rave music???? That’s dressage, which originated vaaaaguely around Spain and France during the medieval period and people SAY it was to evade attacks during battle but like. How true that actually is is up for debate BCNDBENSJJ
But dressage is a lot like dancing. Which Luis. Obviously knows how to do BXNSHNSS so in MY HEAD they make a perfect duo- which makes the mental image of Luis becoming some kind of outlaw similar to canon VERY funny BCNDHSNSJ like I don’t think it’s be very hard to spot the man on his dancing horse Y’know but I digress. I can imagine he probably got taught how to ride by his Grandfather and then got taught how to be a rough-and-tough cowboy by Leon even with his pretty boy fancy horse which IF WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HORSES
Andalusians were bred in Andalusia, Spain (duh) and are used in dressage and showings A LOT. Like go to any big regional tournament and you’ll probably find at least one amongst the crowd. I have no clue realistically how popular they’d be in 18th century America if they were there at all even, but I literally can’t think of a better horse for Luis
ANYWAYS UHHHH THATS IT. THATS ALL IVE GOT. THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE ANI I WILL FOREVER BE IN YOUR DEBT
#luisposting#ask#asks#luis serra#luis sera#luis serra navarro#luis sera navarro#serennedy#serrennedy#serrenedy
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BuckTommyWeekend Day 1: Alternate First Meeting
Title: This seat taken?
Fandom: 911 (ABC)
Pairing: Buck/Tommy
Summary: Buck and Tommy meet at a restaurant for the first time. For the prompt: Alternate First Meeting for @bucktommyweek
Notes: There’s so many potential first meetings for these two both within canon and outside of it. I’m behind on writing for this weekend so just went with one that’s a bit quicker, but will probably expand on in the future before posting to AO3. (And/or might do more potential first meetings because there’s so many options and not all of them will lead to them actually being together at that specific moment in time, but it’d be fun…)
Buck sat at the bar, pretending to check his phone while he glanced over at where Josh and his date were sitting. Josh was seemingly having a good time, plus his date was pretty cute, so maybe this would be a win for him. Buck hoped so.
“This seat taken?”
Buck startled and looked over and saw a man—a very attractive man—stood next to him, inclining a hand toward the stool next to him.
Buck shook his head. “N-no. It’s all yours. I mean, if you want it.”
The man smiled and sat down. “Thanks. Just need to wait for my order.”
As he sat down, Buck noticed a logo on the side of this man’s jacket, one that looked incredibly familiar as it was on Buck’s own work clothes.
“Woah. Is that an LAFD jacket? Are you a firefighter?” Buck asked excitedly.
The man smiled. “Yeah. Work at Harbor station now though. Mostly flying planes and helicopters rather than running into any burning buildings.”
“That’s so cool. I’ve always thought being able to fly a plane, like pilot one, would feel like you have super powers,” Buck said. “Does it feel like that?”
“I suppose that’s a good way to look at it,” the man said. “I’m Tommy, by the way.”
“Evan Buckley,” Buck said, reaching out a hand. Tommy shook it, even at the awkward angle since they were sitting so close together. “So when did you learn to fly?”
“A while ago, back when I was in the Army,” Tommy said.
“Have you always been air support for LAFD?” Buck asked.
“No,” Tommy said. “I was on the ground or many years, but just felt like I was missing it. Transferred to Harbor five, six years ago now. I really missed flying so it was a good choice.”
“I bet,” Buck said. “If I could fly, I’d probably never want to be on the ground.”
“Well, I can give you a tour of the place if you’re interested,” Tommy offered kindly. “Show you some of the toys, how things work.”
“That would be awesome,” Buck said. “But I don’t want to trouble you. I mean, you’re just waiting for your food and I’m talking your ear off about work. I-I’m sure the last thing you want to do is talk about your job after just getting off a shift.”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” Tommy said. “And I could have always ignored you or told you I didn’t want to talk about work if I wanted.”
“I guess,” Buck said. “I forget sometimes that not everyone likes talking about their job.”
“So then I guess I have to ask, what do you do?”
“Oh, um,” Buck rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m a firefighter.”
“No kidding,” Tommy said with a laugh. “Which station?”
“The 118,” Buck said proudly.
“Now you’re fucking with me,” Tommy said. “I transferred to Harbor from the 118.”
“That’s crazy! So you do you know Cap? Captain Bobby Nash?” Buck asked.
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “He was just getting settled there when I transferred.”
“What about Hen? You’ve got to know Chimney. I think he’s been there since it was built.”
Tommy smiled and his nose crinkled and Buck had never seen anything more adorable in his entire life. “Howie and I go way back, from before he was called Chimney. And Hen, she’s one of the best firefighters I’ve ever worked with.”
“They’re the best,” Buck said. “It’s so crazy that you know them too!”
Buck glanced over at Josh again. He’d be furious with himself if he got distracted by this god-like man sitting next to him when his friend needed him. Still seemed to be going well.
“I don’t mean to pry, but I do have to ask,” Tommy started, “You’re not stalking those men, are you?”
Buck whipped his head over to look at him. “What?”
“It’s just, I saw you watching them when I first got here. And now you’re looking over again. Just checking things are… all right,” Tommy said.
Buck felt himself blush a bit because he was the world’s worst undercover wingman. “Okay so one of those guys is my friend, Josh. He’s had some rough luck dating and he was feeling a bit nervous, so I offered to come and hang out at the bar while he was on his date. Just in case anything happened, he’d have back up or whatever he needed.”
Tommy blinked. “You’re giving up your night to sit alone at the bar just in case your friend’s date turned out to be an asshole?”
“Yeah. I guess,” Buck said.
Tommy smiled at him, shaking his head fondly. “That’s really sweet of you.”
“I’m just helping out a friend,” Buck said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’d do it for anyone.”
Before they could talk any more, a waitress came out with Tommy’s food, stealing his attention. Their chat was less than 10 minutes but Buck felt like he could have spent hours talking with Tommy. He tried not to be annoyed that his food came and he was going to leave—the man had probably just gotten off a shift, probably a twelve or thirty-six hour shift, based on it being night. Tommy deserved to grab his food and then head home to eat and crash.
It didn’t mean that it didn’t suck though. But it’s fine. Buck would go back to checking his phone and keeping an eye out for Josh.
Tommy placed a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Well, it was a delight to bump into you and I enjoyed our conversation. You made the end of a long thirty-six hours speed by as I waited for my food.”
“I’ve been told I do that,” Buck said, completely distracted by the weight of Tommy’s hand on his shoulder.
Tommy laughed like Buck had told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. He removed his hand and smiled. “And I’m serious about giving you a tour if you want.”
“I’d like that,” Buck said. “Um, should I call the station?”
Tommy smiled again and shook his head. “It’ll be easier if you just let me know directly. I can make sure there’s time and be the one to give you the tour.”
Tommy reached down to grab the pen sitting on top of his receipt and then scribbled his number on a napkin. “Take care, Evan.”
Hearing Evan come out of Tommy’s mouth was surprising, but surprising in a good way—in a way that Buck wasn’t going to think much about right now. “Yeah. Yeah. Uh, you too, Tommy. I’ll—I’ll text you.”
“Sounds good.” Tommy grabbed his bag. “Oh, and good luck with the rest of your date.”
With that, Tommy laughed a little and then walked out, leaving Buck sitting there, carefully holding the napkin and wondering exactly what was happening with fate right now. Maybe his luck was turning around.
#i like this idea of this but not sure about the execution#wish i'd have had more time and mental energy to write this earlier than just last night on a whim but it's still cute so there ya go#bucktommyweekend#bucktommy#evan buckley#tommy kinard#911 fic#my fic
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18 for the smut ask game 😈 Astarion x Reader or Astarion x any OC of your choice 😩
oh fuck yes
From @astarionfreak's smut ask game.
18. "I'm not going to beg." "Oh but you will."
This was supposed to be a short little drabble and then became a multi-day writing exercise 😭 I have a few more of these sitting in my inbox, so they'll be coming out eventually.
Note: I'm experimenting with writing the characters in Office Hours in third rather than second person. This isn't canonical, just me banging my dollies together to see what happens lol. But yes, in theory, Rosalind is Tav from Office Hours, if just slightly modified. She is also explicitly plus sized (which I plan to do in the edited version once OH is done.)
"I'm not going to beg," Astarion smirks, looking up at Rosalind over his glasses while his hands rest on her plush thighs straddling his lap. He leans against the back of the couch with unearned confidence.
"Oh, but you will." She ghosts her lips over his as she runs her fingers through the silvery curls at the back of his head. She grinds her hips against his, but his expression gives little away. Her only indication that he's struggling to remain stone-faced at all is the slight quaver in his breath. She captures his lips in hers, keeping the kiss languid and sensual. His hands travel up her hips and over the swell of her ass, resting on her lower back. She presses her tits into his chest, breathing deeply to push them into him further. She slides her hands down his neck, gently grazing against his earlobe and delighting in the subtle buck of his hips.
"Cheating," he murmurs into the kiss, and Rosalind's lips curl into a smile.
"Then you should have said something beforehand," she hums back, and her hands continue their journey down to his collar and begin to undo the buttons of his shirt. She fails to keep her own desires in check as she gets more desperate with each button. Her kisses grow frantic and his fingers dig into her ass, pulling her harder into his lap. When the last button slips through its hole, she roughly grabs his collar and yanks him off the couch to follow her lead. "Bedroom, now." Her voice is almost a growl and Astarion chuckles in response.
Rosalind continues to pull him backwards through her apartment and into her bedroom. She pushes him back onto the bed and peels off her shirt as he scoots himself into the center of her queen-sized mattress. She settles herself between his legs and dives down to plant sloppy kisses across his stomach. He slides his hand into her hair as she unbuckles his pants and flashes him a mischievous smile before pulling them down under his ass. He may have been able to keep his cool through her ministrations, but his cock standing fully erect tells a different story. She can feel her pussy clench instinctively as she thinks about sliding herself down on him. But not yet. He needs to beg for it first.
She leans forward onto her elbows with her ass in the air and flicks her gaze up towards Astarion, who studies her carefully. She runs a slow stripe up his shaft with the tip of her tongue and watches for the change in his breathing. She gently takes his tip in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it, gathering enough spit for her to take a hand and slide it down his length. He hisses lightly and his hands tighten in her hair.
"Hmm, you like that, don't you?" she whispers while slowly pumping his shaft with her hand.
"I- ah- I think I'm allowed to enjoy a blowjob from my girlfriend," he retorts in what's almost certainly a shakier voice than he intended. "I just said I wasn't going to beg."
"We'll see about that," Rosalind snickers and takes him back in her mouth, working the underside of his cock with her tongue. He grunts as he slams his fist down on the bed with a soft thump. She begins to twist her hand around the base of his cock as she bobs her mouth up and down the head. His hips twitch, like he's trying desperately to keep them still and failing. She reaches her other hand up and gives his balls a light squeeze, earning the softest moan in response.
She pulls away suddenly and he snaps his gaze to her at the loss of contact. She watches him smugly as she unhooks her bra and releases her impressive tits to hang down and ever so lightly brush against the head of his cock. He bites down on his lip, breathing growing more rapid as she lowers herself down and pins his cock between his stomach and her breasts.
"Gods, fuck," he groans, letting his head fall back onto the bed. She squeezes her tits around his length and strokes him, giving his tip a little lick when it pokes through her cleavage. Rosalind watches Astarion carefully as his erratic breaths wrack through his chest. She wraps her lips back around the head of his cock and takes him in as far as she comfortably can. She begins to suck lightly and his legs squeeze against her sides in response.
Once she feels that he's sufficiently worked up she pulls away and she's certain he's going to deny the little whimper that escapes his lips. She stands and slips out of her skirt, tights, and panties in one easy motion. He cranes his neck up to see where she's gone and she laughs.
"Someone's eager," she coos, crawling back onto the bed and straddling his hips. She lets her belly graze across his cock and he shudders, squeezing his eyes closed.
"I'm in complete control," he huffs without opening his eyes. She brings her face to his, hovering their lips inches apart.
"It's okay if you're not," she breathes, and his furrowed brow relaxes ever so slightly. "I've got you, I won't let you fall." She closes the distance and kisses him softly, and after a moment of tension he melts and wraps his arms around her neck.
She breaks the kiss and presses her forehead against his. "Are you still up for the challenge?" Her voice is still quiet but there's just a note of mischief. He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. Then he opens his eyes and the corners of his mouth pique upwards ever so slightly.
"I am if you are," he says in a low rumble that he knows drives Rosalind crazy. She nips his bottom lip and takes his glasses out of his hand, placing them neatly on the bedside table. Then she lowers her hips to drag her folds along the length of his cock. He hisses and jerks his hips, then smirks and presses his lips together obstinately.
"Dick," she snickers.
"Yes, I do believe that's- ah- the point," he stutters as she teases the tip of his cock with her cunt again. Her mischievous grin widens as she pulls up on her knees, hovering over his erection.
"Anything to say?" she croons, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.
"Darling, I think you want it more than I do at this point."
"Oh me? I'm doing great." She leans back and rubs her slit along his cock again, letting her arousal coat his length. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together, but she can see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow. She continues to grind on his cock, starting to moan as her clit rubs against his wet shaft. He watches her with wild eyes as she gets herself off just by sliding herself along his dick. Her breathing picks up with her pace, whimpering in time with her rolling hips.
"Fuck, Rosalind," he's rasps, and her breath hitches when she hears him say her name.
"Mmf, yes babe?" She's struggling to keep it together just as much as he is, but she's determined to make him crack.
"Ha, you're close, aren't you?" He's panting but he keeps his eyes trained on her.
"Yes, but that wasn't part of the terms," she says hoarsely without slowing her movement.
"But wouldn't it just feel so much better to feel me inside you, my thick cock stretching you out?" he purrs, and she lets out a debaucherous whine.
"If you think so, then you know what you need to do," she says in a strained voice, knowing that she won't actually last much longer herself. She holds fast, and if it means coming on the side of his cock like she's a horny teenager and he's her pillow, so be it. She grinds against him faster, building herself back up to the edge.
"Fucking hells," he groans, letting his head fall back onto the bed. Leaning forward, his tip poised right at her entrance, she puts her lips close to his.
"Yes, hon?" she whispers, and she knows she's already won. He's barely hiding his whimpers anymore.
"I- gods, fuck." His hips thrust up instinctively, but she shifts out of the way.
"Say it, Astarion," she hisses through gritted teeth.
"Rosalind, I- ah-"
She slides her hands into his hair and pulls hard. "Say. It."
"Fuck, Rosalind, please. Please, gods, let me fuck you." His mewling whine is utterly delicious, and they both groan loudly when she drops her hips and sinks onto his cock. He digs his fingers into her thick flesh, thrusting up into her as she slams back down. Moving together like this, it doesn't take long for them to both to reach the precipice. Rosalind pulls Astarion's face into a rough kiss while continuing to furiously ride his dick. He bites on her lip hard enough to draw blood and she moans into his mouth. Once the taste of iron hits both their tongues their orgasms crash down on them in unison, their hips jutting in time as they ride through wave after wave.
They eventually still, panting heavily with their foreheads pressed together. Astarion's eyes flutter open and he kisses Rosalind, tenderly sucking on the wound he made on her lower lip. A light giggle escapes her as she pulls herself off him.
"Told you," she says with a positively insufferable grin.
#smut tag game#office hours#sorta#bg3 smut#astarion smut#baldur's gate 3 smut#astarion fanfic#astarion x tav#astarion x oc#astarion fluff
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pleasepleaseplease elaborate on bartylus as orpheus and eurydice variants please if you want
mil!!!!! you sent this to me 2 minutes before my shift started….. i was losing my mind…. they’ve been in my head ever since…. i just got home thank god !!!!!!
anyway. so i have this au/wip which is loosly (very loose!!) based on the eurydice and orpheus myth but also set in canon. i have a tag for it ’fic: don’t look back’ <3
here’s a little snippet:
”Barty,”
It comes out as a breath, as an exhale— but it almost shatters him. If he wasn’t on his knees already he knows they would buckle. Knows he would fall down at Regulus’ feet. He almost looks.
so regulus still goes to the cave, and he still dies. he doesn’t go out of the kindness of his heart, but because he’s tired and he did it all wrong and he can’t win and he just wants it to be over. he goes because he misses his brother and he wants his brother to live. he doesn’t care about the rest of it, the war, the two sides, voldy or dumbledore or the prophecy. he wants out and he’ll never get his brother back so he’ll do this one thing to (hopefully) save his brother even if sirius will never know <3 after that he’s done. he goes to the cave knowing he’s going to die and he wants to. he yearns for the dark and the quiet !!!! he’s 17 and he thinks he’s lived way too long and he just wants out now
he leaves barty a letter. it’s vague but barty figures it out. they spend one last night together because regulus is selfish and greedy and want him just one more night. they used to fumble around back at hogwarts. they were each others firsts and they trusted each other but they were never together. not actually. just stumbling into each others beds, shakey hand jobs, clumsy blowjobs, sloppy kisses. they didnt really talk about it either but not in an awkward way, they just didnt really need to. it was about comfort and love and boyhood and fear and safety and they’re just. so special to me. not dating, not best friends, but a secret third thing. just so completely intertwined but so different from each other.
- virginia woolf. this is the bartylus dynamic to me. like. everything was awful, their homes, their circumstances, their surroundings, their expecations. but they were also just boys. everythings awful but sometimes they’d sit in the slytherin common room and they’d make each other laugh. sirius left but barty is waiting for him at kings cross with a grin :,)
anyway. it all sort of stopped after they both took the dark mark. they still had each others backs and they’re always best friends and intertwined!! but i guess there’s just too much else to think about now ahdhdjajfjkd. but reg comes to barty the night before he leaves for the cave and they properly spend the night together. its messy and miserable and lovely and it feels like a goodbye. reg leaves before barty wakes up the next morning.
barty!!!!!!!! goes mad. mad with regret and anger and desperation and love and hatred and every other emotion under the sun. he wants him back and he will get him back. barty is smart, was top of his class, is a quick learner in all things magic. i don’t know how long it takes, if its months or years, but barty is on a rampage and he’s seeing red and he’s not sleeping and he’s not at all himself. he sees reg as a ghost, talks to him, he’s haunted. he aquires several forbidden books from shady sources about magic that has long since been banned. he will bring regulus back if it’s the last thing he does. eventually he finds either a spell or some magic ritual (haven’t figured it out yet) that existed back in the 1700s but has been banned almost immediately due to people just. coming back wrong. miserable and wailing. barty’s not seeing that though. he’s just seeing that he can bring him back. so he learns everything there is to know about the spell/ritual and then sets out to go to the cave. months or years later, i still haven’t decided. i think it would be a little sexy if it was a couple years after reg died.
that’s where the eurydice & orpheus myth comes in. basically barty isn’t allowed to look at regulus until they both get out of the place where he died. but it also differs because regulus so desperately wants him to look. regulus is miserable when he’s brought back. miserable and young and confused and angry.
by paul tran is and always will be rab when he enters the cave!!
so reg is trying to seduce barty to please look at him. please look at me. and barty wants to more than anything. the first time he finally takes a breath since regs death is when he finally brings him back. the relief overwhelming. and it lasts for 0.01 seconds because regulus doesn’t want to live. he’s so angry and he’s sobbing and wants to go back. but barty doesn’t want him to. and he’s telling regulus it’s going to be okay and they’ll be okay and he’ll protect him and take care of him. but regulus doesn’t care. and barty is desperate:/
sadly barty is greedy. and weak. and it’s been years and it’s desperate and he can’t remember the shade of blueish gray regs eyes were. and regs pleading hurts. and barty just wants him. he just wants him and wants to keep him and he was never ready to lose him and he isn’t ready now. but it all boils down to the fact that barty is equally impulsive as he is strategic. he spent years (?) trying to figure out a way to being regulus back and more of his friends died during that time. he’s done what he set out to do. so he looks. because reg is asking him to and because barty isn’t strong enough not to look at what he wants
and yeah.
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Breathless
After Crosshair nearly drowns in 3x07 - Extraction, the Batch head back to Pabu to rest and regroup. But the danger isn't over yet, and they'll need to work together to save one of their own. Crosshair angst, medical whump, hurt/comfort, family feels. Canon-compliant/missing scene, ~5100 words.
-----
The Remora was dark and quiet, the soft glow of emergency lights the only illumination. Crosshair tried to curl up into one of the narrow bunks, though his long legs made it an awkward fit. He’d stripped down to his under armor, but still couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Wrecker hadn’t even bothered trying, instead flinging down an emergency blanket on the floor and falling asleep beside Batcher in his full gear. The hound snored contentedly, her massive head resting on his thigh. Across the gap, Omega lay on her own borrowed bunk, the glint of her eyes revealing she was still awake.
“You ought to get some rest,” Crosshair said, stifling a cough. “You must be tired.”
Her smile was faint in the dark, but still unmistakable. “And you aren’t?”
“I’m laying down, aren’t I?” he retorted.
“Fair enough,” she said. She shifted, rolling over onto her back. “What do you think Hunter’s talking about with Rex and Echo?”
Howzer, Gregor, Rex and Hunter had stayed up in the cockpit with Echo. Crosshair’s hand fumbled at his side, though in the dark, he didn’t have to hide it. “Intelligence. Next steps.” He took a deep breath, his chest heavy. The Empire, still looking for Omega. Trying to take her back to --
He coughed again, trying to suppress it to keep from waking Batcher. Wrecker, he knew from long experience, could sleep through anything.
Omega sat up and peered at him, large eyes squinting in the dim light. “Are you all right, Crosshair? It was -- it looked close, back there.”
He waved his hand at her dismissively. “It’s been closer.”
Water rushing into his nose and mouth and throat, hands against his shoulders, feet pedaling uselessly --
He coughed again, rubbing his chest. “I’m fine.”
Even in the dark, her skeptical look was clear and deeply annoyed. The kid was nothing if not stubborn. She frowned at him. “What was wrong with him?”
“Who?” he asked, though he knew perfectly well. The shadow’s cold voice rippled through his mind, a frisson spreading through the cracks in the walls he’d put up around Tantiss. He took another deep breath.
“That operative. He was different,” she said slowly. “The others were scared of him, weren't they?”
He hesitated, but knew she’d keep asking if he didn’t give her something. “They erased his memory. He’s nothing now. Nobody.”
“The Empire can do that?” Omega whispered, horrified.
“Not the Empire,” said Crosshair dully. “Hemlock.”
She recoiled, and he knew he’d said too much, turned the conversation too dangerous. He shouldn’t have said it. Should have kept it locked in his head with the other things he didn’t dare name. Especially around the kid.
He rubbed his face, his breath coming more quickly. He must have been more tired than he’d thought. “Forget I said anything.”
“I can’t,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “I thought Tantiss was a prison, and endless tests. That’s all I ever saw of it. But there was more?” She scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand. “We have to get them out of there. We have to.”
His hand quaked, trapped in the crook of his elbow where he knew Omega couldn’t see it. He swallowed, tasting a hint of something metallic. He couldn’t keep talking about this. It was too much. Too close to what they’d done to him, what they’d tried to do to him, what they’d done to the others --
He blinked, mind going hazy. He could feel exhaustion creeping over him, threatening sleep any moment. “I’m sure they’re working on it,” he managed, trying to sound reassuring. “You’ve met Rex. They’re all brothers to him.”
“To us, too,” Omega said plaintively, but her voice went faint, and he drifted off into the dark.
-----
Crosshair stared defiantly into Hunter’s eyes, but the stunner took him by surprise. He’d been expecting the blaster bolt. He sank to his knees, mind blanking, and for a time he knew nothing.
Until cold salt water dripped onto his head, his face, into his nose and mouth. It poured in over his legs, creeping up his thighs, up to his waist. The shock of it took his breath away. He could feel it climbing, and around him, Omega and the medical droid panicked. His hands hammered at the debris trapping him, the water closing over his head -- the fear and the panic were crushing him --
Hands on his shoulders, hands on his shoulders, pressing him into the riverbed, cold freshwater smothering, hands flailing -- faltering --
You had your chance to be one of us
You had your chance
He was starving again like the platform on Kamino, the lack of food gnawing, roaring, ravening, until there would be nothing left of him -- but it was air, air he begged for, needed desperately, was dying for--
Hemlock’s features, painted in boney whites and dark shadows, looming under sickly green lights, sick smile twisting his face into something inhuman. CT-9904, you have been selected for a most important… opportunity…
Something skittering around the back of his mind, the thought that maybe this wasn’t just a dream -- that it was getting harder and harder to breathe, chest aching, breath short, throat raw --
You chose the wrong side --
-----
Hunter startled awake from the chair he’d been dozing on. He wasn’t sure what had awoken him at first. There was the hum of Echo’s ship around him, complex machinery and circuitry crackling together in an electromagnetic haze that he’d long thought of as the sound of hyperspace. There were quiet murmurs between Echo and Rex, tapping on the consoles from Howzer, Gregor humming a little tune under his breath. Further out he could hear the familiar heft of Wrecker’s breathing, and the newer sound of Batcher snoring loudly. But he couldn’t place Crosshair and Omega -- not at first.
There was a new sound, faint and muffled. Something like breathing, but off. He felt a twinge in his gut. Something wasn’t right.
He was halfway to the bunks when familiar footsteps closed the distance and Omega hurried out of the sleeping quarters, eyes wide. “Hunter, come quick. Something’s wrong with Crosshair.”
“What kind of wrong?” he asked sharply.
“He was coughing in his sleep,” she explained. “He told me earlier he was fine, but I woke him up when he kept coughing. We got him to sit up, but he can’t catch his breath. Wrecker’s with him --”
The door slid open. Someone had hit the lights, and he hissed at the sudden brightness after the muted dark, shielding his eyes with a hand. He blinked to recalibrate himself and saw Crosshair sitting awkwardly on the ground against his bunk, Wrecker beside him, a hand on his shoulder.
“Just breathe, Crosshair. It’s all right,” Wrecker said anxiously.
Batcher whined at them, pawing at Crosshair’s leg. He didn’t respond.
“Crosshair,” said Hunter, kneeling in front of him.
Crosshair turned to look at him with an effort, his face ashen. He was sitting up strangely, arms bent and propped up on his knees, hunched over himself. And he was breathing far too fast, shoulders heaving, mouth half-open. He closed his eyes with a grimace, but didn’t -- couldn’t -- speak.
Wrecker’s face was sheer worry. “He needs a medic, and we don’t got one,” he said urgently. “How far out are we from Pabu?”
Hunter tapped his comms. “Echo, we need a medikit. Now. Crosshair’s laid up, and it looks bad.”
“What happened?” Echo asked. “He seemed all right earlier --”
“He almost drowned back there. I don’t know, it must have been worse than we thought.” We should have checked him over when we boarded. Should have made sure -- “He needs oxygen. And we need a medic. How far are we from Pabu? AZI can treat him, but we need time.”
We’re not losing him now.
“Another hour. I’ll be right there. Rex, you handle things up here. Crosshair’s down.”
Rex’s voice, faint through the comms. “I’m on it.”
“Hunter, is he going to be okay?” Omega asked, crouching down beside Crosshair. She reached out, laying her hand on his shoulder. He pulled away in a wracking cough, hand flying up to try and cover his mouth. Clear but blood-tinged fluid spattered against his palm.
Hunter swore under his breath, recalling some of their early training. They’d all had basic field medic training, though Tech had been far and away the best at it, with Crosshair a distant second. It came back to him now, flickers of memory from the cadet days. Something to do with nearly drowning, a sort of secondary drowning that could hit later on and be just as deadly.
“He’ll be fine, Omega,” said Hunter automatically. He had to be. He couldn’t lose another brother --
Crosshair bowed over himself, coughing again, then trying to catch ragged breaths. “Right,” he gasped. “Fine.” He waved a hand weakly in front of him, as if trying to push them away, but hung his head. Hunter could hear the breaths rattling in his chest, wet and heavy and difficult.
“Hey, take it easy,” Wrecker warned. “Stop sassing.”
“Wrecker!” Omega exclaimed indignantly.
“Well, he was, weren’t you, Crosshair?” Wrecker asked, giving him an anxious but hopeful smile.
Crosshair nodded slightly, then closed his eyes, rubbing at his chest with one hand.
Wrecker laughed, though it was a far cry from his usual booming laughter. “See? He’ll be all right, kid.” He lowered his voice, then leaned towards Crosshair’s ear. “You’ll be all right.”
The door slid open and Echo strode in, medikit tucked under his arm. “Let me get in there, take a look.” They wordlessly moved aside, making space for Echo to kneel beside him.
Echo worked quickly, throwing open the medikit and handing an oxygen mask and concentrator to Hunter to assemble. He pieced it together and went to press the mask to Crosshair’s face, but Crosshair shook him off irritably and grabbed the mask himself, digging his face into it and clawing the straps into place over his head.
They watched him tensely as he breathed hard into the mask. His eyes slid closed for a moment, the tension in his face easing. His color looked less muddy already.
The scanner in Echo’s hand lit up in red, alarms beeping. “Scanner says there’s fluid in the lungs. Oxygen saturation’s down. I don’t think I’ve got anything here that would help besides the oxygen, but…” He examined the numbers, then peered at Crosshair’s face. “Vitals are improving on the oxygen. I think if he stays stable like this, he’ll be all right to get to AZI.”
“Thank you, Echo,” Omega said, tears in her eyes. She let out a long sigh, hugging herself, and Hunter laid a hand on her shoulder. She leaned against him, giving him a watery smile, and he drew her close.
She can’t lose another brother, either.
”How’re you feeling now?” Wrecker asked eagerly.
Crosshair squinted his eyes open, coughing again. Reddish fluid clung to the inside of the oxygen mask. He glared at it. “Not dead… yet,” he bit out.
”Don’t try to talk,” Echo said as the scanner flashed red again. “You just work on breathing.” He glanced around. “You want to stay down here? We could move you back to the bed.”
Crosshair shook his head, leaning forward, stretching his neck out to get more air. Hunter felt sick. Helpless.
Like he had after Eriadu —
He found himself speaking to Echo. “You focus on getting us back to Pabu. We’ll stay with him.”
“Take it easy, Crosshair,” said Echo, handing the scanner over to Hunter. He reached out, holding Crosshair’s shoulder and giving him a quiet nod. “A little cough won’t take you out. You’re too stubborn for that.”
Crosshair attempted a faint smirk, though the effect was muted by the mask over his nose and mouth. Echo turned back to Hunter. “Make sure he keeps that thing on, and keep him quiet. Chatterbox like him, talking’ll just make things worse.”
Hunter smiled slightly. He’d missed Echo’s sarcasm. “We’ll keep the conversation to a minimum.”
“We’re on it,” Wrecker agreed.
Echo got to his feet and headed back to the cockpit. Batcher whuffed sadly, inching closer to Crosshair until her chin rested on top of his foot. The hound really had taken to him, even though Omega had told him how she’d been the one to tame her. He guessed Batcher and Crosshair had that much in common.
Omega crawled back beside Crosshair, leaning her head against the bed behind them. She looked up at him hopefully, but he hadn’t noticed, face screwing up with effort again, eyes tightly closed. The sound of his breathing, wet and rattling and wrong, was overwhelming in Hunter’s ears.
Hunter stared down at the scanner in his hands, running it over Crosshair again. Oxygen was still well below normal, but the sensor flashed a warning yellow instead of a blaring red. He sighed. He could deal with that.
He glanced up, seeing a small shift out of the corner of his eye. Omega reached out, patting Crosshair’s shoulder, then leaving her hand there. Crosshair glanced at her, but did not move away.
Hunter watched them, a painful mix of emotions tumbling in the back of his mind. He trusted Echo’s read that Crosshair was going to make it back to Pabu, and he knew AZI had been able to pull them back from serious injury before. But that still didn’t make it any easier to see his brother so vulnerable, shoulders and chest heaving with the struggle to breathe.
And seeing Omega being so kind to him, her empathy boundless, hurt in a different way. Seeing Crosshair with her hand on his shoulder, after remembering how he’d bristled toward her and pushed her away before, was so good. But knowing that Crosshair could have been with them in the beginning if it hadn’t been for the chip, that he could have gotten to know Omega all along with the rest of them, that neither of them would have had to go through the experiments on Tantiss if things had been different —
Hunter let out a long, even breath through his nostrils, willing his mind to settle.
Wrecker had started talking, probably trying to distract Crosshair and Omega. “This is nothing. Remember the time that grenade knocked you out for two days?”
Crosshair flicked his eyes over to Wrecker, then rolled them expertly, as if to say Of course I don’t, I was knocked out.
“Oh! Right!”
“What happened?” Omega asked curiously.
”Well, battle droids are usually idiots, right? We were on this backwater Separatist world. Forget the name. Crosshair was way up on the hill in cover, picking them off one by one. Decimating them! You should have seen him. Really in his element,” Wrecker said proudly, spreading his hands wide as if to paint the picture of the battlefield. “But this platoon had a tactical droid on their side. Must have figured out we had a sniper in the mix and triangulated his position. Sent a grenade up —“ Wrecker winced.
Hunter remembered it well. Their mad scramble up the hillside, their comms crackling —
“Crosshair!”
“He’s not responding —“
“We don’t leave anyone behind —“
Tech had been the one to find him, his voice urgent. “He’s down. We need to get him to a medic —“
He shook away the image of Crosshair limp on the ground, helmet blasted ten feet away, blood from his ears streaking his silver hair.
Hunter cleared his throat. “We got him out safely,” he said, continuing the story. “Wrecker carried him, and Tech and I covered them until we got back to the ship. We thought he was a goner.”
”But he was okay —“ Omega said.
”Clearly,” Crosshair muttered, though there was a hint of a smile at the edges of his mouth.
”Woke up two days later on Kamino, asking for a toothpick,” Wrecker said. “Nothing ever keeps you down for long, Cross. Hell, tomorrow you’ll probably be back to normal and all annoyed we were worried about you.”
”I’m annoyed now,” Crosshair wheezed. The scanner flashed red, and Hunter shook his head.
”Hey, watch it,” he said warningly, holding up the scanner. He shifted where he sat, sighing. “Wish you’d have said something before it got this bad,” he said before he could stop himself.
Crosshair shrugged slightly. This time when he spoke, it was slowly, with deep breaths between each word. His vitals stayed yellow instead of dipping back into red. “I thought — it was nothing.” He paused, closed his eyes, breathed deeper. “I don’t like to complain.”
”You complain about everything!” Hunter exclaimed, exasperated. At least this was Crosshair as he remembered him. “You couldn’t have mentioned you couldn’t breathe?”
”Hunter,” Omega said. “It wasn’t like this when we got on board. It got worse later.”
Crosshair gestured to Omega, as if to say, See?
“All right, all right. Sorry, Crosshair.”
”Ahhh, you’re just worried about him,” Wrecker said warmly. He reached out, giving Hunter a nudge. He had to admit Wrecker had a point.
Echo’s voice came through on Hunter’s comms. “We’re dropping out of hyperspace. How’s he doing?”
”Stable. Except when he’s a chatterbox,” said Hunter. “We’ll go for AZI once we land.”
The ship shifted out of hyperspace, Hunter’s stomach swooping with the familiar sensation. “Wrecker, you run and get AZI. Tell him what happened to Crosshair, his symptoms. Omega and I will stay here. Make sure he brings any supplies he’s got, and a stretcher, too.”
”On it,” said Wrecker, getting to his feet. “Hang in there, Cross.” He headed out to the main cabin, leaving Hunter, Omega and Batcher alone with Crosshair.
He heard the landing gear descend, felt the ship settle to the ground. One step closer to helping their brother.
The wait felt interminably long, though it was only a few minutes. Batcher whined, wagging her tail, her homely face looking almost concerned. Omega reached out and patted her, though her eyes were fixed on Crosshair.
Hunter watched them both closely. The scanner still read yellow, but Hunter felt more uneasy with every passing moment. Crosshair’s breathing rattled in the quiet, the rate steadily rising.
He coughed again suddenly, so violently that he doubled over himself, gagging and choking. Hunter was there in a flash, dropping the scanner and whipping the oxygen mask off so Crosshair could cough up reddish-clear foam onto the floor. Batcher whimpered. The scanner alarmed from the floor, red lights flashing on the screen.
Crosshair slumped forward. Hunter caught him from hitting the floor, keeping his head facing down, fluid leaking from his nose. “Kriff,” he swore, pulling off his scarf and mopping his brother’s face with it, then shoving the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose. “Breathe for me, Cross, come on.”
”Crosshair!” Omega cried, picking up the sensor and watching it anxiously. “He’s back in the red. Hunter, what do we do?”
Crosshair gasped, jerking upright. One hand clawed at his chest, the other at the oxygen mask, knocking it off. “Can’t -- breathe —“ he sputtered, flailing. Hunter pinned his hands to his sides as Crosshair struggled, his breathing growing harsher with every breath, his lips going blue. He’s panicking, Hunter realized. They needed help —
The doors opened, AZI floating in and Wrecker close behind with a collapsible stretcher in his hands. “Hell —“ Wrecker exclaimed.
Omega scrambled out of the way as AZI darted forward to Crosshair’s side. AZI scanned him, then hovered close and injected Crosshair with something in the hip. Crosshair struggled in Hunter’s arms for a few more breaths.
Did it work? Hunter wondered.
Then he felt his brother relaxing, Crosshair’s arms drooping into his lap. Crosshair felt suddenly boneless, his face slack, eyes half-open, but his breathing came more easily. Hunter pulled the oxygen mask back into place and sat back beside him, one arm around his shoulders, keeping him upright.
“What did you give him?” Hunter asked.
”A mild sedative,” said AZI. “It is common for delirium to occur in respiratory distress. This will allow him to breathe more freely without the sensation and fear of drowning.”
“He felt like he was drowning?” Omega whispered.
”Yes,” said AZI matter-of-factly. “Sentients report the sensation of pulmonary edema is most consistent with the sensation of drowning. It may cause an intense fear response and irrational behavior.”
“But is he going to be all right?” Wrecker interjected.
Crosshair mumbled something unintelligible, sagging against Hunter. AZI swiveled, checking his vitals once more.
“Yes, with time, rest, and oxygenation. But had you not provided adequate oxygenation in transit he may not have survived this journey.”
A wave of cold passed over Hunter. If we hadn’t heard him….
He shook it away, gazing at Crosshair’s face. But they had heard him, they’d gotten him treatment.
He was going to be all right. That was enough.
-----
Crosshair slowly came back to himself. Where was he? There was something on his face, a strange sensation in his chest. Through his closed eyes he sensed it was late morning, bright sunlight just on the other side of his awareness. Something had gone wrong. What was it --
He reached up, touching the thing on his face. An oxygen mask. He focused on it, on the sensation of cool, scentless air blowing softly against his skin, the way it felt to breathe in. It seemed to be harder than it should be, requiring thought and effort for each breath, but he also had the distinct sensation that this was better than before.
He cautiously cracked open his eyelids, keeping them half-lidded to guard against the bright sunlight streaming in through a nearby window. He gazed around. Wrecker, Hunter, Omega and Echo sat against the walls of the small room, having apparently fallen asleep where they sat.
He swallowed, his eyes stinging. It was coming back to him now in flashes --
“Crosshair! Crosshair, wake up! Can you hear me? Wrecker, help, something’s wrong with Crosshair --”
“Here, I got you. Just breathe, Crosshair, it’s all right --”
Hunter’s face grave, fear in his eyes --
Echo’s hand on his shoulder -- like Skako Minor --
Blind panic, he couldn’t breathe hard enough for what he needed, he was frantic, desperate, he was dying --
“Sentients report the sensation of pulmonary edema is most consistent with the sensation of drowning --”
“You’re awake,” Hunter murmured. He stirred, slowly unfolding himself and getting to his feet. He sat down on the end of Crosshair’s bed, tilting his head to look at him. He looked exhausted. “How do you feel? I can get the droid.”
Crosshair shook his head. “Better.” He took a deep breath. He felt something like crackling, deep in his chest, but nothing like the terrible crushing pressure from last night. He spoke carefully, slowly, and the heaviness in his chest stayed manageable. “Where are we?”
“Back on Pabu,” Hunter said, keeping his voice down for the sleepers. “You started having trouble on the way back from Teth. I… I guess that fight at the waterfall was worse than it seemed.”
Crosshair turned his face away, blanching.
“Sorry,” said Hunter. “I guess I wouldn’t want to think about it either.”
“It’s… fine,” he said stiffly. He glanced at the others, fast asleep. “Worried?”
“Yeah, we were,” Hunter said. “AZI said it was close. If Omega hadn’t woken you up and gotten help, it might have gone differently.”
Crosshair smiled slightly. That kid. She really did manage to act like she was the older one. It didn’t surprise him; just another way he owed her. “Lucky she was there.”
“Yeah.” Hunter rubbed his face with one hand. “Glad you’re doing better.” He let out a long sigh, glancing around the room at Echo, Wrecker and Omega fast asleep. Batcher was at their feet, sleeping just as deeply. “Huh. Almost makes me think of old times.”
Crosshair knew what he meant instantly. “‘Sleepovers,’” he managed before coughing deeply, reflexively making a fist despite the oxygen mask between his hand and his mouth. “Like on Kamino.”
Hunter’s eyes widened slightly in concern, before his facial expression relaxed once more. He nodded at the term, Wrecker’s name for their habit. “Any time one of us was sent to the hospital wing. Remember how it used to drive the medical droids crazy?”
“Sneaking in,” Crosshair managed. “As cadets.” The four of them had been so isolated from the regs that missing any one of them had been too much. He remembered swearing on it with the others, small hands stacked atop each other’s, a fierce vow to never leave one of them behind.
How many cycles had they had by then? Three, maybe four? They’d held fast to it, whether it was a hospital stay for observations on their enhancements or recovery after an injury (with Wrecker, injuries were sometimes a monthly affair). It had got to where the droids stopped bothering trying to usher them out, and had simply accepted that if one came, the others followed.
Hunter shook his head. “Reminds me of the Firepuncher incident.”
Crosshair groaned. “You would.”
The tips of his ears flushed warmly. He’d been the size of an unenhanced thirteen-year-old -- if taller and lankier than the others his age -- the first time the armory technician had set a 773 Firepuncher into his arms. “I’m not so sure about this,” the technician had warned, his reg’s face skeptical until Crosshair showed him his training statistics and certifications on a variety of other weapons. The Firepuncher was next up on his list to learn, and he’d been raring to try it for months. “Still, though, watch for that kick.”
“I’ll be fine,” Crosshair had said confidently. He remembered hefting the rifle, checking his stance, his breathing, his steadiness. It was awfully heavy. But he raised his face close to the scope, took aim --
Crack. The target glowed, smoking with a decent shot. But Crosshair was flat on the ground, gasping, pain radiating through his neck and arm.
Hunter’s chuckle broke him from his reverie. “I remember how stubborn you were. Insisted it was the only rifle you’d use from here on out, even though it broke your collarbone.”
“It’s a good weapon.” Crosshair scowled. He’d felt mortified, wrapped up in a sling after his scan, furious that he wasn’t stronger like Wrecker. He’d been determined at that point to master it.
“We were all impressed, you know.”
“Huh.” He supposed Hunter was right. He saw them back on Kamino, crowded around his bed. Wrecker had been crowing about how he’d graduated to the serious blasters, Hunter was grinning proudly at him, and Tech had eagerly explained the specifications of the Firepuncher and its customization options, full of ideas for how Crosshair could use it in the future.
But Tech wasn’t against the wall now, head resting on Wrecker’s shoulder or bent over his datapad. It made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the cough or the oxygen mask.
“This isn’t…” He wheezed. “... so impressive.”
“You survived. That’s everything, Crosshair.” Hunter looked down at his hands, considering. “And he didn’t. No one could have survived going over those falls.”
No one. Right? His hand shook.
A sound from across the room caused them both to turn. “Crosshair?” Omega asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “You’re awake?”
“Yes.”
She got to her feet, hurrying to his side and laying her hand on his arm. It still startled him, how small her hands were, how strangely comforting it felt, feeling her hand rest against his arm. She beamed up at him.
“You look a lot better,” she said brightly. Beside her, Batcher put a huge paw on the bed, panting happily.
“Agreed,” said Hunter. “But we should probably let him rest --”
“Crosshair!” Wrecker boomed. He towered over Omega. He reached out and slapped Crosshair on the shoulder, much more gently than usual. “See! Knew you wouldn’t be down for long.”
“It’s the stubbornness,” Echo said, yawning. “Keeps him going.”
“If you only knew,” Crosshair said. Wrecker roared with laughter, and the others grinned, relief clear on their faces.
Crosshair took another deep breath, his chest feeling a little clearer, his breathing a little easier.
He remembered the days after Bracca, not a single visit from his new unit, his head throbbing from the burns and the removal of the chip, nothing to do but stare at the sterile white walls of the Kaminoan medical wing. He remembered his recovery ward on Coruscant after he was rescued from that platform; long endless rotations of barely being able to eat, his body still struggling to process food again, medical droids his only visitors. He remembered Tantiss, given a few meager days to recover from frostbite and exposure and injury before the torture began, Emerie’s dispassionate face, Hemlock’s mocking, measured tones.
Omega shifted her hand, resting it on his. It was trembling again, but the weight of her hand helped keep it still. She gave him a small, quiet smile while the others laughed and talked amongst themselves.
He nodded a soft thank you to her, then looked up at all of them as the door opened.
“Greetings! It is time for CT-9904’s vitals to be assessed,” AZI announced. “He has been steadily improving through the night, and should recover fully.” His head swiveled from side to side at the small crowd around the bed, and they hastily stepped aside, making room for him. “CT-9904, would you prefer privacy as you recover? I can insist they leave for your wellbeing, if that is required.”
They looked at him. Crosshair took another deep breath, swallowing, and waved a hand. “They can stay,” he rasped. “As long as they keep it down.”
“Very well!” AZI chirped.
As the droid took his readings, Crosshair glanced around at them, Batcher wagging near the foot of the bed, Omega rumpled and happy, Wrecker trying and failing to stay on the quiet side, Echo wearing a dry, relaxed grin, Hunter watching him with only a hint of worry still on his face. He caught Hunter’s eye, holding out his hand and twitching his fingers.
Hunter laughed softly. “Unbelievable.” He turned, rummaging in the stack of Crosshair’s armor and supplies piled up near the bed. He came back around, pressing a toothpick into Crosshair’s hand.
“Thanks,” he said. He slipped the oxygen mask up for a moment, bit down on the toothpick, and adjusted the mask back into place. It was awkward, but if he angled the toothpick just right, it worked.
“Now he’s back,” Wrecker laughed.
Crosshair leaned back against his pillow, taking care to stay upright, closing his eyes and working the toothpick in his teeth. A small smile quirked the edges of his mouth.
Yes. He was back, wasn’t he?
His breath crackled faintly in his chest, a reminder of how close things had been. He knew there was still danger -- Hemlock hunting Omega, the shadow operatives and the secrets they carried, the tremor twisting his hand even now, weeks out of Tantiss.
But Crosshair took a deep breath. He was still here to fight another day.
And he wasn’t alone.
#the bad batch#the bad batch fanfiction#crosshair tbb#crosshair the bad batch#hunter bad batch#hunter the bad batch#the bad batch hunter#the bad batch crosshair#my batcher fic
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top 5 etho ships ? bonus points for any explanation
my personal top five in no particular order, and like, ya gotta understand im still new here (hermitcraft/life series) so my opinions are poised to change, but the current standings are:
Bdubs/Etho/Cleo, i'll be honest, i haven't written or read any clethubs, but i saw some art of them that made my brain shortcircuit. they are femdom, himbo, and twink. i just think that Etho should have two people who are stronger than he is on either side of him at all times, bonus points if you let Cleo be the tallest. Bdubs being super clingy, Etho reluctantly tagging along, and Cleo making sure they don't fucking die because yeah they are god damn idiots sometimes, but they're her idiots. and she loves them. and probably gives them noogies and headlocks them.
Cleo/Etho, their marriage in limlife is so much fucking fun, especially when read under an aro4allo lens. Etho whose been happily married for over a decade watching his friends enter relationships and realizing that he loves differently, he doesn't even love remotely close to how they love, love isn't even the right word. hes scared so he leaves, hes not doing it right and his wife must be upset about it, that must be why everythings crumbling. and Cleo, not giving two shits, because that's her husband and by god they're gonna make it work if he can realize that being absent is whats breaking up their marriage, not showing affection and intimacy differently.
Gem/Etho, as a canadian i am legally obligated to ship this, as a lesbian i love it when men have chaotic gremlin girlfriends who put them in their place. see that one episode of hermicraft wherein Gem beats his ass on repeat and he keeps coming back for more. its like, like theres an unspoken solidarity, 'hey we're the same even though we're not' and they stick with each other. predator/prey dynamic if you go with deer Gem and fox Etho, you also get it with sea monster Gem and fox Etho, except he's the prey and she has the biological advantage instead. also, when paired with the transfemme Etho headcanon we get some yuri which im always down for.
Grian/Etho, this one came to via an Ao3 commenter and i have seen two pieces of fanart for it and like, seven fics. but i still think the dynamic of bird and fox would be fun to work with in writing depending on the bird Grian is hybridized with, especially if Grian is the smaller one. also in limlife??? hello?? Etho, swearing loyalty and promising to be someones sword is not heterosexual behaviour. what they had in limlife, even if brief, had me shaking i'll be real. also, for their hermitcraft dynamic, it'd be hot if i threw Scar into the mix, for flavour.
Pearl/Etho/Tango, consensual workplace relationships make me absolutely insane, it could tear apart their business or bring it further together. they have the kind of dynamic that makes my head absolutely fucking empty, one of those 'i just think theyre neat' kind of ships. the culture clash between each of their species and their own personal tastes, Tango's a blaze and they mate for life, Pearl's a siren and they don't do much for romance, Etho's a fox and they come and go- but they make it happen in spite of that. im working on getting them a canonized Ao3 tag right now, they have such a fun dynamic. also, they fucked in that post office when no one was looking.
tbh these are all really closely tied, and i also have a soft spot for tangtho and the team ties poly. they're all really fun ships, i just really enjoy polyships to be real with ya'll. and the life series and hermitcraft are full of so many possible polyships that its just making me foam at the fucking mouth. sorry boat boys enjoyers, the vision has not yet engulfed me, but hey im a multishipper it might be yet to happen.
#asks#the bestie anon#ethoslab#i just love putting this sopping wet pathetic excuse of a man in relationships. it makes me grin.#mcyt#heres hoping this sparks the poly postal vision in someone elses head
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Starting to feel like queerbait allegations are quiet now that Buck is bi, but they’re still baiting with all that clickbait articles, talking about buddie in every interview somehow. Why not talk about the newly canon relationship more?
While I will never say this show is queerbaiting (they never have), in the recent weeks since Buck’s bisexual discovery, I think shipbaiting could maybe be argued.
This onslaught of Buddie coverage in the media is not a coincidence. And while the show can’t control what media outlets do(though there is some string pulling behind the scenes. Trust me) actors can control what they say. And I think we can all agree Oliver in the past few weeks has said some wild shit. Buck being Bi has opened the door for these questions and instead of pivoting, it’s safe to now dip the toe in those waters. The question is, to what extent? How many Buddie sound bites/posts will be made before it’s just like ENOUGH.
And I mean from a marketing standpoint, can you blame him or media outlets? We fall for that shit every time. We click and watch and give them the engagement so.
Idk yall. There are things that skew my opinion on all this that I can’t speak on so I just try to keep it pushin. And I know yall love to get pissy about shit so let me say that I don’t blame Oliver for anything. I have nothing against Bi Buck. These are just things that have been floating around my head over this mini hiatus.
During this hiatus it’s been BuddieBuddieBuddie in these sound bites and headlines, meanwhile they are filming ep 9 and Tommy and Marisol are still very much around. Where are the articles about them?
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I know I've twisted myself into a goddamn pretzel the past five or so years trying not to be 'too much' and backing off when I am
but
A good deal of why I started the #dr literacy tag is precisely because of this- I am beyond tired and fed up, with the kinds of things that people have ignored and left on my back- whether it's to do with Kokichi, or V3 overall. It's easy to deflect and call me 'delusional', and five years later never even consider the implications of having called me that over what I've been trying to grapple with, much less apologise to me sincerely and genuinely try to understand where I'm coming from and why it's so hard to discuss in the first place- not to mention why it's so easy to make mistakes not least because the way Kodaka plays with themes can be decidedly insensitive (and I was clearly out of my depth with that when I started this blog)
This isn't about all of you. A good number of people here have been wonderful about this, even if they don't understand all too well. But frankly such people are the exception rather than the rule, and the rule is that people don't bother to interrogate their own biases about Kokichi, or really grapple with the way him and V3's narrative might be constructed with bias. And this unwillingness to accept ambiguity and nuance results in some genuinely hurtful behaviour towards people who try to point out that, maybe, not everything was even his fault, or that his character and situation is far more layered than it appears on a first run of the game. Or even a second, or third.
So I'm gonna need people in that camp to swear that you'll do better about this going forward. No really. This situation I've been in didn't come out of nowhere, and while I've beaten the proverbial horse to death that I haven't always been fair or reasonable either, that does not mean I should just back myself into a wall and take the status quo that is 'Tsumugi is telling the truth and Kokichi is just a clown' as a 'fact of canon'. Because there's a very good chance that that might not even be true, and that there's even more tangled messes Kodaka left in the text to unpack that you never even thought of, and that really NEED extra care and nuance to fully understand.
I know you're probably sick of hearing this from me by now. But this is an issue that can never be helped until it's faced head on, and the effect of basically being pathologised over it (due to *checks notes* autism), is seriously damaging- the inability of people to address things as serious issues and themes rather than 'just the pet theory that came out of my nutty head', is something I cannot, on principle, force myself to accept. So please just think about the way you're approaching issues in the future. I will try to do the same.
#kokichi ouma#dr literacy#general fandom#no for real#I literally had someone tell me verbatim#'back away from the keyboard there's enough autism out here'#one of the friends of the person who called me 'delusional'#as if 'gullible' (while still wrong) was even CLOSE to that level#I'm not gonna stop being annoying about this it was WRONG#it was WRONG and I did NOT have to deal with the aftermath#of being cast as 'crazy and delusional' over things I did wrong#and over things that you didn't WANT to question in yourself#over how YOU were treating Kokichi and fans of him#who thought DIFFERENTLY about his actions than you#actions that we do not even SEE all of for that matter#just Own Up.#own up and do BETTER. peace#i just want to close this book but it never stop affecting me#and Idk if the person responsible for a lot of this will see it#but it's worth a shot anyway#again sorry the long rant#dangan salt team#ableism#Again.
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