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tightjeansjavi · 6 months

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Slow Hands | Chapter 9

“when the monsters creep into your house”

A/N: so, before we get into this chapter, I just wanted to say that I am still on a break, but I wanted to share this with y’all because I’m so incredibly proud of how far I’ve come as a writer. This story has truly become such an importance to me, and I am so grateful to have the opportunity to share it with you. This break has been everything I hoped it would be and with that, I have restored my love for writing. This is also my longest chapter that I have ever written. 15k to be exact! Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well and thank you for the endless support. In due time I’ll be ready to re-immerse myself into the community, but for now I am content. 🤍 happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate, and free Palestine 🇵🇸 call for a ceasefire now. Also, a big shout out to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for betaing for me! I appreciate you so much 🥹🤍

~word count: 15k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: after spending the night at Joel’s, the fragmented pieces of your past before Jackson begin to fall into place.

warnings: angst, PTSD, trauma, intense flashbacks, nightmares, child loss, implied SA (not by Joel) heavy heavy topics, hurt, comfort, foreshadowing, implied animal abuse (not done by Joel) soft flirting, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, readers nickname is Beanie (coffee beans), +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

Joel Miller’s POV

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay. He was nervous. Nervous about how you would react to his request. While he had many moments of raw vulnerability with you, this was by far the most vulnerable admittance. It showed that he felt a deep level of trust towards you considering the only other person who knew of Ellie’s immunity was Tommy. Admittedly, if you said no to his request to spend the night, it would sting, but he’d accept it and give you the time that you needed. That didn’t erase the fact that he was waiting with a bated breath.

“Of course I’ll spend the night with you, Joel. Under one condition, you don’t snore, right?” Your tone was playful, teasing as you gently scratched his scalp with the blunt ends of your nails.

Oh, geez. How was it that one single person could read the room so well? There was something that was so purely natural to you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe one day he’d have the answer. He was relieved.

“Well, I don’t usually snore, but I won’t make any promises. Is that a deal breaker for ya, darlin?’” She’s spending the night. Here. with me.

He nearly could have purred like a damn cat from how soothing it felt to have you scratching his scalp, and playing with his hair. Oh, he had it bad alright.

“No, just means that I might have to smother you with a pillow if you do start snoring, honey.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He threatened teasingly as his fingers attempted to lightly tickle your sides, but you were quicker than that. Exchanging pet names felt easy and natural between the two of you. The banter dissolved the tension from the emotionally charged conversation that just took place

“Oh, but I would.”

Your fingers interlaced with his, thumbs brushing across the outside of his hand. He was looking directly into your eyes with a slight tilt of his head. He shamelessly thought about kissing you again now that there seemingly would be no other interruptions. His eyes flitted down to your lips. Soft. Kissable. He hadn’t kissed anyone since Tess’s passing. Even then, they didn’t share many romantic moments leading up to her death. Oh how he wishes he could have just kissed her one last time. You have to let go of the past, remember? Tess is gone. She’s never coming back, Joel. But Beanie? She’s here. She’s sitting right next to you, and she’s breathing. Her heart has a beat and there's blood pumping in her veins.

“If we keep this up, the pizza is gonna go cold, darlin.’” He tilted his head to the side with a boyish grin spreading across his lips. You swore that you saw a dimple peek through.

“Can’t have that happening.”

“Would be a shame..” He drawled thoughtfully.

Your eyes met, soft gazes melded together, brows raised before you broke out into a fit of contagious giggles. You couldn’t even depict the cause of your laughter, but he was short to follow, and man, did it feel good. Perhaps there need not be a reason. Perhaps it just felt natural to burst into giggles after such a heavy topic of discussion. You thoughtfully watched the way his eyes crinkled, and his hand grasped his belly under the worn-down fabric of his shirt. The cadence of your combined laughter echoed weightlessly through the expanse of the kitchen like a feather drifting along a gentle breeze. Ask her now. You can do it, Joel. Let your heart feel, for god sakes.

“Well, now I’m real fuckin’ hungry, darlin.’” He drawled warmly as he reached for your hands.

“Felt good though, didn’t it?”

He smiled knowingly as he nodded, “Felt damn good.” His hands grasped yours firmly before he gently released them and slowly stood up.

Your mouth watered the second he removed the pizza from the oven with a well-loved oven mitt that had little hearts stitched artfully through the fabric. He set the tray carefully along the countertop to cool. “It’s gonna be a few minutes for the pizza to cool. Don’t wanna go and burn our tongues off.” He chortled softly as he slowly descended back down to your level.

His palms were growing clammy by the second as he watched your discreet body language under the soft glow of the overhanging kitchen light. He watched the way you moved in closer to him, as if you were both magnets being drawn together by an invisible force that was slowly reeling you in. He watched your eyes, and how they never seemed to leave his own. He watched the way your lips parted open, soft and sweet like two glistening peach halves. Dew kissed rose petals being warmed by the sun's rays. Joel Miller would never consider himself to be a hopeless romantic, but you’d beg to disagree.

“Fuck it.” he whispered under his breath, nearly undetectable to your ears.

“What?”

He breathed in slow and deep as his lips parted like the narrow sea. “Beanie,” He breathed out. “Can I please kiss you?”

A moment to breathe passed before you slowly nodded in consent, “Yes, Joel. Please kiss me.”

He leaned in slowly, the bridge of his nose gently brushing against your own as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. His hands gently rose to caress either side of your face. He held you like delicate fine china in his palms. Those very same hands could take away a life with a snap and twisting of his wrists. You held no fear because you knew this man. You knew Joel Miller as if he had been in your life forever. In some way, he had. Inconspicuously he had touched your life before the outbreak, and now you were finding one another in a new light.

The gap between your lips was tortuously closing at a slow pace. He was taking his time with you, but only if you knew that internally, he was wishing that he could take your breath away with a swift kiss. Time felt like it ceased to exist the moment his lips molded against your own. Although they were slightly chapped, Joel Miller’s lips were like two soft pillows, and he’d describe yours as candy floss. The sweet, sugary kind that used to be consumed in carnivals and fairs. He sighed into your mouth as his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. Your lips moved together in sync, but he could taste your hesitation lingering on your tongue.

“Joel..” You murmured against his lips.

“S’okay,” He spoke with utter reassurance. “You’re safe here with me.”

That’s all it took for you to let yourself go as your arms wrapped around his neck with ease, pressing your lips further into his.

His heart felt ignited with a newfound feeling that had laid dormant for so long. Fuck the pizza, he thought to himself. Nothing can ever come close to this moment.

The kiss was short lived, and lasted all of 30 seconds, but it was only because he could taste the salt from your tears along his tongue as he slowly detached his lips from yours. A tiny sliver of saliva kept you connected, until that dissipated too.

Why is she crying?

Oh, god. What have I done?

I knew this was foolish of me.

He didn’t even realize that his own tears began to free-fall from the corner of his eyes. He was too hyper focused on you.

“Beanie, what’s wrong? Darlin’ is it somethin’ I’ve done? I’m so sorry my dear, I–”

You cut him off with a surprised urgency as your hands dropped to his face and his strong jaw. You nearly threw yourself into his lap from how fervently you kissed him. On instinct, his hands found your waist to hold you steady as he kissed you back with the same amount of passion that you held for him. Your breaths synced harmoniously before you parted ways and pressed your forehead into the fabric of his shirt. An overflowing tide of emotions swept through the two of you as he cradled your head protectively to his chest. His head came to rest upon the lower cabinet as his eyes fluttered shut.

I’m here.

I’ll keep you safe.

No harm will come your way.

My girl. My girl. My beautiful sweet girl.

The pizza had significantly cooled off by the time yours and Joel’s emotions calmed down and he had wiped away every last tear that had dripped down your beautiful soft-spoken eyes. He left your side only to grab two plates and divvy the slices between the two of you. You sat side by side on the floor, as you ate in a comfortable silence.

I should check in and see how she’s doing. Maybe asking her to spend the night was too much.

Maybe this moved too fast?

Maybe I should just shut up and stop overthinking every single little fuckin’ detail.

“How’s it tastin?’” He finally asked as he set his plate off to the side.

“Tastes just as good as I remember it to be. Might even be better.” You responded with a small smile of gratitude.

“You ain’t gotta say that jus’ to be polite, darlin.’ Y’can be honest with me.”

“Joel, it’s seriously delicious. You’re a good cook.”

“And you make a fabulous sous chef.” He murmured with a grin between his teeth as he turned his head to look over at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you rested your plate on your lap.

“Like what?” He asked softly.

“Like I am the only girl in the room.”

His brow raised as he pondered your response. You were literally the only girl in the room, but he was able to pick up on the silent signals, and read the context clues to your words.

“Darlin’, you don’t have to be afraid of me, or this, okay? Look, I understand if me askin’ you to spend the night might have been too much, and if that is the case, I’ve got no problem walking you home. But, if you do still want to spend the night with me, I promise we don’t have to..y’know, do anythin.’” He cleared his throat nervously as his eyes silently searched your own.

“Joel, I’m not afraid of you. I promise that it’s not that. I just—it’s been so long since..I’ve liked someone this much. The last guy I had romantic feelings for, was shortly before outbreak day. We actually had a date planned on the night of the outbreak. He canceled because he said his mom was sick and he needed to go and check on her. I never heard from him after that.” You murmured somberly as your hand slowly came to rest upon his cheek, stroking your thumb gently across the patches in his silver speckled beard.

“Baby, s’alright. I understand. S’been awhile for me as well, as you know. I’m sorry that you never heard from him again. Was he uh—your boyfriend? Or just someone you had met?” He leaned into your soft caress as his hand slowly came to rest upon your knee, rubbing soothing circles into the fabric.

He liked that you both shared a liking towards physical touch. He always wanted to be touching those he loved in some shape or form.

“No, he wasn’t my boyfriend. It was actually going to be our second date, and I was truly excited about it. We met in line at the local grocers, and my clumsy ass nearly dropped an entire carton of milk. He was..really sweet. Sometimes I wonder if he survived outbreak day, and if he did, would we find each other again.” Your thumb gently brushed across his lower lip before you were leaning in and kissing him sweetly as his lashes fluttered shut.

“Oh, darlin.’ I’m so sorry. I jus’ hope that if he didn’t make it, he went out painless. Sometimes I often forget that so many people lost something that night. Friends. Family. Lovers. It’s so easy to get caught up in your own grief and forget everyone else’s.” He mumbled against your lips as he squeezed your knee tenderly.

“It’s okay, Joel. Really, it’s okay. I got over it as soon as I realized that I had a decent chance at survival. Had to push my own grief far into the depths. Tess helped a lot. When we found each other I just had this feeling that it was meant to be. I wouldn’t have made it very far without her.” You slowly pulled away from the kiss as your forehead gently lowered to rest against his. “If I’m gonna spend the night, I sure hope you have a good pair of pj’s for me, Miller.” You teased softly as you gently twirled a strand of his salt and peppered hair between your fingers.

“She’s a good horse. Y’all have a special bond that I doubt could ever be broken. Darlin’ , you can wear any pj’s of mine that you’d like. Y’can keep ‘em too. But, before we head upstairs, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you. Would that be alright?”

“What do you want to show me, Joel?”

“You’ll see, darlin.’ Y’trust me, right?”

“Always.”

Joel offered you his arm like the true southern gentleman he was. He softly told you to leave the plates for now, and he would take care of that later. You took his arm graciously with a gentle grasp as he led you outside.

“Jus’ so ya know, the only two people who have seen my little wood workin’ shed, as I would call it, is Tommy and Ellie. But, you’re awfully special to me, Beanie. And I wanna share this piece of myself with you.”

“Joel, you know you don’t have to do this, right? I am absolutely honored that you want to share this part of yourself with me.” You murmured in a honeyed tone as your fingers gently flexed along his forearm.

He turned towards you, pausing in a moment of thought before he smiled. A real genuine smile that showed the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes that came with the process of aging. How precious a moment for you to see Joel Miller with his guard down. Even in the lowlight, you could see the way his eyes sparkled as he looked at you with tenderness.

“Best get used to it, darlin.’ Cus’ one day, I’m gonna share everything with you.”

His words were taken as a promise. An oath that you were not just a stepping stone in his path towards healing and living a peaceful domestic life. You mattered, and he made you feel like the sun was something that he crafted just for you with his bare hands in his toolshed. And the millions of stars that painted the night sky in twinkling light, were his secrets, and all he had to do was reach up and pluck one from the string it hung upon and bring it down to you. The stardust would bloom like a rose in your palm as if by magic. All in due time he’d bring a star down to you. All in due time.

At least in this lifetime, you’d finally understand what all the fairytales and romance novels were talking about.

His lips brushed your forehead in a velvety kiss before he nudged the shed door open with his shoulder and flicked on the light directly to the left of his head.

Remnants of sawdust coated the air as you followed him inside. His work station was fairly tidy sans a few stray tools that didn’t quite find their home, yet. You could feel his presence lingering behind you as you admired the wood carved fawn that was nearing its completed stages.

“This is darling. Did you make it for someone?” You asked softly as he pulled up the stool next to you and made himself comfortable.

“Made that one for Ellie. After I gifted her that felt fawn from your trinket bowl, I felt inspired to make her a wooden version. Got a rocket ship I'm workin’ on as well, but animal anatomy is far easier to work with than machine parts.” He mused as he rested his palm along his chin comfortably.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, Joel.”

“Hopin’ so. Got somethin’ I’m workin’ on for you as well.” He murmured with a gesture towards the figure covered with a white sheet to keep it a surprise.

You turned your head to the side, catching his gaze before you smiled. “Really? Can I see it?”

“‘Fraid not, my dear. Ain’t finished with it, yet. And I wanna keep it a surprise for now. Think you can be patient?” His brow raised as his lips curved up into a small grin.

“Oh, alright. I suppose I can be patient, for now.”

“Are ya sure you’re actually capable of being patient, darlin?’ He asked teasingly, his eyes flickered with unbridled mischief like two high-hanging mirror balls.

You leaned in with the same mischief dancing in your irises. It felt good to flirt, real good. He could easily say the same thing.

“I think the real question is, are you capable of being patient, Miller?”

A challenge. And a good one at that.

Joel had felt like a horny, love-sick teenage boy all over again.

He reveled in it.

Before he could answer, you slipped off the other stool with ease as you gingerly picked up one of the wood chisels that was laying around nearby. You twirled the handle in your palm with glee as you danced around the workbench, feeling his eyes never leaving you.

“So, what’s this one called?” You knew it was a wood chisel, but playing dumb for a moment felt fun and carefree.

“It’s a wood chisel. S’what I use when I'm carving out details and such. Got a whole set of ‘em. They’re quite handy.” He was already up from his stool as well as he followed you around the corner of the workbench.

“Fascinating.” You responded with a playful grin as you placed the chisel down where you found it before picking up a small screwdriver. “And this?”

He chuckled, shaking his head with a grin. “That would be a screwdriver, princess.”

Something unreadable flashed in your eyes. It was there, and gone as fast as it came.

“I totally knew that.” Your tone was an octave higher than usual, but you masked it well by tossing the screwdriver to the side before reaching for his hands.

“I know you did, honey.” He drawled smoothly as he found himself stepping between your legs where you were casually leaned up against the bench.

You were locked onto one another like two magnets as he slowly brought your interlocked hands above your head. He studied your expression for a moment as he silently waited for your consent, and once it was given, his lips were pressed to yours once more as your back naturally began to descend against the saw dust covered surface.

The tension in the air rose and thickened the atmosphere. The only sounds that could be detected were your lips moving in a passionate filled embrace, and the crickets chirping just outside the door.

He was the one to break the kiss with a breathy chuckle. “Seems like you and I are turnin’ into a couple of horny teens, huh?”

You liked the way his cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen from your kisses.

“Indeed we are. I feel so alive. Do you?”

“Yes. The most alive I have felt in years, Beanie.” He murmured as he gently pulled you back up into a sitting position. His hands departed from your own and proceeded to brush away any sawdust that had stubbornly clung to your clothing. “Let's head in, yeah? I’ll make us some tea before bed. Chamomile?”

“Sounds delightful.” You pecked his cheek sweetly, and his cheeks reddened once more.

Joel left you to your own devices as he tidied up the kitchen. When you softly protested to help with the dishes, he shook his head and gently nudged you towards the staircase followed by a short peck to your lips. “Go on. I’ll be up shortly, darlin’.’”

“Joel, are you sure you want me to go up there alone? I mean, it’s your private space and–”

“Beanie,” He breathed softly against your lips. “S’okay. I trust you, remember?”

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want any help down here?”

He shook his head once more as he nudged you up a few steps. “No. I’ll be alright. Go on now.” He pressed softly.

Your reluctance was noted, but Joel trusted you, and that was a fact. So, what did you really have to fear?

Your soft-padded footsteps led you further up the stairs before your body disappeared from his view. His bedroom was down the hall from Ellie’s. Like a classic teenager, her door had a sign in bold red lettering that said “KEEP OUT”. Oh to be a teenager again.

Joel’s bedroom was exactly how you pictured it to be; homey. His bed was neatly made with both sets of pillows fluffed to perfection. On his nightstand contained a book titled, “Idiot's Guide to Space” and on top of the book were his old man reading glasses.

Cute.

You didn’t want to appear as if you were snooping around, but it was hard not to when two seemingly photographs caught your attention. You padded over to the dresser with a genuine curiosity. Upon closer inspection, the first photograph encased a younger Joel with his arm around who you presumed to be his daughter. Sarah truly was the apple of his eye.

“Winning that game was a big moment for her.” Joel’s warm tone lingered in the open doorway.

“She’s beautiful, Joel.” You murmured in response as you gently set the frame down.

“She was.” He solemnly corrected you as he made his way into the room.

You could feel the heaviness weighing in his heart as his footsteps approached. You hated to think that right now he was picturing his baby girl laying in her shallow grave. She was far too young.

“Joel, please. Don’t go to that place. Sarah is beautiful, and I wish I could have had the opportunity of knowing her.”

“She woulda loved you. I’m almost sure of it. The two of you woulda been as thick as thieves.” He was standing alongside you now with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn out jeans.

Your gaze softened as it landed upon the second photograph. Joel and Ellie side by side, looking into Shimmer’s stall.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, Beanie?” His question startled your current thoughts as you slowly met his gaze.

“You mean when I said that Ellie would forgive you eventually, and she just needs time to heal, and so do you?”

“Yes. Y’meant that, right? You actually believe that Ellie can forgive me? That her and I will be okay again?”

“Joel, I believe that everyone can be forgiven to an extent. What you did is what any parent would do for their child. In due time she might understand, and forgive you. But, you need to start believing that yourself. Feel it in your heart that you and her will be alright. These things are delicate, and they take time, Joel.”

You could feel his muscles clench as he inhaled deeply. Sometimes hearing the truth hurt, but it was necessary.

“I guess I don’t know how to be patient at all.” He murmured with a slight shrug.

“No, that’s not true at all, Joel. You miss her, and that is completely understandable.”

“I’d do it all over again. If I was given the chance to make up for it, there ain’t a damn thing I woulda done differently.” His nostrils flared from his admittance. As if he was a once dormant volcano that was becoming active again.

“I know, Joel. I know.” You talked him down.

He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts before his shoulders finally returned to a relaxed position. “Let me get you some pj’s so you can change, and then i’ll go make our tea.”

You nodded silently as he pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and grabbed a pair of plaid pajama pants and plain t-shirt. He placed them gently into your arms. “I think there might be an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers in the bathroom. I’ll uh–give ya some privacy.” He backed off like a dog with its tail between his legs. He could already feel the shame begin to creep up every vertebrae in his spine as he slipped past the open doorway. He just wanted to be normal. To not feel this constant weight on his shoulders, or grief in his heart. He wished for happiness. To smile more. To laugh. To enjoy the life he had left to live. To love without the fear of losing.

You wished that for him too.

When he returned with two steaming mugs of herbal tea, he found you already safely tucked under the covers. ‘The Idiot’s Guide to Space’ book in your grasp. His heart swelled as he set his owl mug down along the nightstand as he offered you the other mug. A moose grazing in a snowy field was illustrated along the outside of the mug. You looked up, pausing in the paragraph you were reading, before grasping the mug gently from him. “I hope you don’t mind me reading it. The title intrigued me.” You murmured.

“Don’t mind at all. It’s got some fascinating stuff in’t.” He responded warmly before he pulled the covers back and climbed underneath them. His shoulder brushed yours as he made himself comfortable.

“Would you like me to read it to you?” Your suggestion was soft and thoughtful as his eyes met yours.

“I’d love that, Beanie.”

You naturally found yourself scooting in towards his side of the bed. You wanted to be closer to him. To feel that intimate connection that had sent a new fire scorching through your veins. His arm slowly came to rest along your shoulders while the back of your head found its home against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his breaths soft as your words soothed him like a lullaby soothes a child. It wasn’t long before he was nodding off, struggling to keep his eyes open, but he soon gave into sleep and you followed shortly

“Joel! Help me, please! Joel!” Ellie’s screams were anguished. Frightened.

The steps leading to the basement seemed never ending as Joel raced down them. Adrenaline pumped fiercely in his veins. “Ellie!” He screamed, voice raw and cracking. His fists pounded on the door as he desperately tried to break it down. Her terrified screams rattled his skull as the thin skin of his knuckles tore and bled. “Baby girl!” He cried.

Ellie’s screams for help dissipated and turned into a harsh ringing in his ears. The never ending staircase and basement door ceased to exist.

“Joel! Joel! Wake up! Please, wake up!” Your tone was urgent, frightened as you grasped his shoulders firmly to shake him free of his nightmare.

His screams sent a wave of nausea rushing through you . “Joel, you’re safe! It's just a nightmare! It's not real, Joel!”

His eyes snapped open as he took in a lungful of air. His arms encircled around your waist as he looked around the room wildly. His shirt was soaked all the way through. “Ellie! She–she. I–I couldn’t reach her! I couldn’t save her!” He wailed profusely as you tried every attempt to calm him down.

“Joel. Listen to me, baby. It was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Ellie is safe. She’s safe!” Your hands came to gently rest upon his cheeks as if your fingertips alone could wipe away the fear leaking from his eyes. You kissed away his tears as he trembled in your embrace. He wept as you consoled him.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you began to hum a tune of the past as one last final attempt to bring him back down to earth. Your humming transformed into words as his heart beat steadied its rhythm.

“And you will keep me safe.” You whispered.

“And you will keep me warm.” He croaked.

“And rain.”

“And rain.” He followed with a soft painful whimper.

“Will make the flowers.”

“Will make the flowers grow.” You wept in unison.

Joel awoke the following morning, rising with the sun that was beginning to peek through the beige curtains in his cozy bedroom. He was careful not to disturb you in your peaceful slumber as he detangled his legs from your own before swinging them over the side of the bed with a soft grunt. Despite the familiar ache in his back, he urged himself to stand as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The floorboards creaked beneath the weight of his footsteps as he padded off to his connected bathroom. Despite the nightmare he endured just a few hours ago, he felt moderately well rested. He splashed a bit of luke-warm water onto his face before he proceeded to brush his teeth.

He returned to his side of the bed shortly after as he quietly dressed for the day before he scribbled down a note for you to awake to. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was leaving in a hurry, or feeling like the events that took place last night were a mistake. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. His handwriting was chicken scratch compared to your gentle strokes of the pen, but was legible at least.

Good morning, darlin.’ I'm headed down to the stables to build a pen for Honey. Help yourself to some coffee, and whatever else you’d like. I’ll be back in time to take you to breakfast.

-Your Joel.

So what if he was a bit of a sap, you were, after all, the first person he showed vulnerability to since Tess. This was as big a deal for him as it was for you, but it felt natural. As natural as breathing, as putting one foot in front of the other.

He found Honey still curled up in the corner of the couch as he stopped to give the fawn a gentle pat on her furry little head. He couldn’t help but think of the horrors that would have been unleashed on her if he didn’t rescue her in the woods. Surely, she would have been ripped to shreds.

Vile.

With one final delicate pat to her head, he reached for the blanket that was wrapped around the tiny creature, and gently tucked the corners in so she was a nice snug bug in a rug. he shuffled away to tug on his working boots before he grabbed his every-day use tool box from the closet. A ghost of a smile was tugging on his lips as he swung the metal loop of his house keys between his fingers. He was so lucky to know that just up the stairs, you lay beneath his sheets.

Even in the early morning hours, Joel could taste humidity on his tongue. July was already proving to be a sweltering one. He was too caught up in his saccharine thoughts of you back in his cozy home, to hear footsteps approaching behind him. Well, it also didn’t help that he was partially deaf in his right ear.

When he pushed open the stable doors, he was greeted with a few friendly nickers as he made his way down the stall aisle. He had developed a particular soft spot for your mare, Tess, for obvious reasons. She was sweet, gentle, kind-hearted just like you. And as silly as it may sound, he saw his Tess in your mare’s eyes.

Tex’s sleek black neck was already craning over his stall door as he pressed his velvet soft muzzle into Joel’s flannel pocket affectionately.

“Ah, I see. Am I jus’ a treat dispenser to ya now, Tex? Knew that Beanie was gonna give ya a sweet tooth.” He murmured with a deep chuckle as he set his tool box down alongside the outside of Tex’s stall. “I think your lady deserves a sugar cube first, dontcha think?”

Tex pawed the loose hay in his stall with a soft snort as Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of sugarcubes to give to Tess. She didn’t like most men in Jackson, but she already adored your Joel.

The tender felt moment between beast and man was cut short from the sound of the stable doors creaking open once more. There was a sudden edge to the docile air as Lucas strode in casually.

Joel’s jaw clenched harshly under the dust filled light rays that trickled in through the cracks in the stables roof. Golden light flooded through the spaces between the wood as his eyes narrowed downwards between his boots. He was not in the mood for conversation of any kind this early in the morning, and especially not from an individual he already believed to be suspicious.

“Miller?” Lucas asked as he approached with his arms swaying at his sides. “What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“Could ask you the same,” The older man muttered under his breath.

Lucas heard him, but pretended he didn’t. “What was that?”

Joel kicked at a stray rock with the toe of his boot as he straightened himself up so that he could appear more intimidating. “I think you heard exactly what I said.”

Lucas raised a brow with an amused grin as he stopped in front of Tess’s stall. “You really can’t fuckin’ stand me, huh?” Before Joel could answer, Lucas waved him off as if they were friends having a minor disagreement.

Tess immediately took a few nervous steps back from where Lucas was leaning against the side of her stall door. Her sudden erratic behavior set Tex off immediately as he pawed the ground fiercely, and flattened his ears to the back of his skull. A territorial display that sent hairs standing up on the back of Joel’s neck almost immediately.

Joel knew that horses had a tendency to be sensitive towards certain people, but he had never seen Tess respond in this manner. It was..odd.

Lucas paid no mind to the mare's behavior as he focused his attention back on the older man. “So, who does this beauty belong to anyway?”

Joel started to stiffen before he relaxed his shoulders with a slow roll. “She’s Beanie’s.” he muttered flatly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few more sugar cubes and held them outstretched in his palm towards Tess.

Your mare took a few timid steps forwards, before she gently ate the treats right from Joel’s palm. However, as soon as Lucas reached his hand upwards to stroke her snow white neck, she shied away from his touch as the whites of her eyes shone like two pale ghosts as Tex proceeded to send his hoof colliding loudly into the side of his stall; don’t mess with his lady.

Lucas oddly didn’t seem fazed by the mare’s bizarre behavior as he shrugged his shoulders with exaggerated casualness, “mares have never been a fan of me.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Was Joel’s gruff response as he turned his back to pick up his toolbox once more. He proceeded to ignore the ‘intruder’ as he set to work on building a pen for Honey right next to Tex’s stall. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

The only problem was that Lucas had a godawful time at reading the fucking room, or he was doing this to get a rise out of Joel on purpose.

“Speaking of you and Beanie, what’s goin’ on between the two of you anyway? Hearin’ whisperin’s here and there that you and her are like an item.” He drawled smoothly.

“Ain’t think that’s much of your concern, or business to have, Lucas.” Joel’s tone was muffled as he spoke into the fabric of his flannel along his shoulder.

“Ah, I hear ya there, brother. Gotta be careful with a woman like that. They can be real heartbreakers if ya ain’t careful.”

He’s baiting you, Joel. Don’t fall for it.

“Yeah? How would you know the type of woman she is, and isn’t?” Joel delivered his response with ease as he pulled out a tape measure.

“Not sayin’ that I do, jus’ that I've been around enough women like her to know what I'm talkin’ about. And a woman like that can’t be held down. They’re flighty and callus. One second you think you’re special to them, and the next—”

“Well, who said anythin’ about me wantin’ to hold her down? She’s her own person, Lucas. I don’t own her.” Joel gritted through his teeth.

Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

Joel could hear the younger, cockier man smirking through his teeth. “So, she’s not your girl then is what you’re sayin?’ Huh. I surely thought you two were an item.”

The sound of the tape measurer clanking into the toolbox with a loud thud was all Lucas needed to know that he won. Joel straightened his back as he stood up and whipped around, fully ready to go toe to toe to get this gnat out of his face.

“Y’know what you remind me of? A snake.” Joel seethed as his fists trembled at his sides. “A snake in the tall weeds just waiting to strike. What’s your angle, Lucas?” his eyes narrowed as Lucas watched in pure amusement to watch the brave and unmovable Joel Miller slowly losing his composure.

“A snake, huh? Think more like a wolf. And you’re the boneheaded moose thinkin’ you’re unbreakable. Look at you now, Joel Miller. Trembling with rage from just my words. You know what I think?” He leaned in close enough just in case the older man couldn’t clearly hear him. “Even the strongest moose can be taken down by a pack.” He sneered.

Something inside of Joel snapped like a coil being pulled tight and he saw red as his hands grasped the lapels of the younger man's shirt with a furious rage.’ “Y’want me to go ahead and fuckin’ break the other wrist, huh?! Cus’ I can do that. Right here. Right now if you wanna keep makin’ these threats. We can have a real fuckin—”

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN’ ON HERE?” It was Tommy, and Joel had never felt so relieved to see his brother in that moment as he released Lucas from his death-grip grasp.

Lucas looked like a deer in headlights as he was not expecting Tommy’s sudden arrival. Yet, he held his composure as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Your brother here was jus’ threatening to break my other wrist jus’ now.”

“Yeah, I heard that bit, right after you threatened him first. Get lost, now. Before I change my mind and report this directly to Maria. The hell you thinkin’ rilin’ my brother up like that?!”

Lucas was dumbfounded and ego-wounded. Most importantly, he was and always would be a coward. His eyes locked on Joel’s, and then Tommy’s before he slunk away in a wolf-like fashion through the stable doors.

Neither Miller brother spoke for a while as it appeared they were processing what had happened. Joel opted to slowly sink down between Tex’s and Tess’s stall with his hands resting between his knees as he worked on steadying his heartbeat to normal.

“Hey, Tommy?” Joel started, “How much of a’that did ya hear?”

“Enough to know that Lucas was purposely trying to get a rise out of you.” Tommy responded as he walked over to Timber’s stall and tightly shook his head.

Joel breathed out an immediate sigh of relief as he slumped back against the stall doors. “Tommy? Did Lucas show up to Jackson before, or after you and Maria found Beanie?”

Both brothers slowly met one another's gaze as Tommy gently stroked Timber’s neck with a steady palm. “After,” he confirmed Joel’s immediate suspicions.

Joel watched in silence as his brother walked over to him before he bent down and offered Joel his hand to help him up.

“Tommy, how come I didn’t hear ya come in?” Joel mumbled as he firmly grasped his brother’s hand before pulling himself up to his feet with a grunt.

Tommy could feel his heart begin to slowly sink into the pit of his stomach. Just like the way that the sun would gradually dip behind the horizon at the end of each day. He gave his brother a mournful look as he gently placed his hand along the right side of Joel’s head, and brushed his thumb across the scar. Right against the spot where the bullet missed. “Y’know why, brother.” He murmured softly with a heavy heart.

Joel knew, it was there, written into his skin. He swallowed his tears that were beginning to brew as he wrapped his arms around his brother and hugged him tightly. “Tommy, somethin’ ain’t right here. I’m gettin’ that sick feelin’ in my stomach. Were you here to see the way Tess acted towards Lucas?”

“Somethin’ definitely ain’t right. I told ya that I’d have your back, big brother. Remember? I arrived a bit too late. Musta missed that bit.”

Joel nodded as he slowly dropped his arms to his sides. “Well, she flipped out. I’m talkin’ like a complete 180 as soon as Lucas tried to touch her, Tommy. Pissed Tex the hell off as well. Somethin’ about it was...odd. Almost like she recognized his face or, she jus’ could sense that he ain’t a good person.”

“Well, horses are pretty sensitive creatures, so it is possible that maybe...”

Joel’s jaw inwardly clenched as his brain was replaying the events that just took place. There were numerous red flags that went ablazing. Tess’s fear towards Lucas. Lucas prying for information… And what the hell was the whole thing about him referring to himself as a wolf, and Joel as the boneheaded moose?

“I think we oughta start keepin’ a watchful eye on him. For all we know, he could be plannin’ somethin’ right under our noses. Tommy, the last thing you and I or Maria want is for someone to turn up missing. What about Ellie and Dina? The rest of the women around here? The sooner we–”

“Joel,” Tommy started with a heavy sigh, “I hear ya, but we need evidence. Cold. Hard. Evidence. I’d start by documenting what happened just now. Write it down in full detail. I’ll write up my own report on it as well. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on his whereabouts, alright?”

Joel let out a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, cus’ that’s the only way Maria would ever believe us.”

“We need to have shit to back up our accusations.” “Hey, while you’re here, mind helpin’ me build this pen for Honey? I gotta get back home in time to take Beanie to breakfast. I left her a note, but I don’t want her thinkin’ that I ditched her or somethin’.” Joel casually stated. Once he realized what he said, it was too late, and Tommy already had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Hold on a second now. Did you n’Beanie have a sleepover last night? As in she slept in your bed? Woo doggy, it’s about damn time!” Tommy nearly hollered as he went to give his brother a proper slap on his back.

Joel’s entire face turned beet red as he coughed into the sleeve of his flannel to hopefully hide his obvious blushing. “Uhh–yeah. You can call it a sleepover, I guess? Look, I don’t need ya goin’ and makin’ a big deal outta this. We kissed, and then I asked her if she would spend the night. That’s all that happened.” Well, we kissed a few times actually.

“Y’all kissed?! Joel, this is a big deal! Are ya kiddin’ me? Big brother, this is amazing news! Look at you bein’ the romantic!”

Joel let out a frustrated groan when he realized he wasn’t gonna get out of this one that easily. “Yeah. Yeah. We kissed, and I really like her, Tommy. So, can we just keep this between the two of us? I don’t want Maria, or anyone else for that matter gossipin’ about my private life.”

“Riiiight. Cus’ I’m jus’ gonna go and shout it from the rooftops that my big brother finally grew a pair and kissed the girl. Thank fuck. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” The younger Miller brother was genuinely happy for his older counterpart. Everyone deserved that someone in their life, but Joel especially.

“I was jus’ buying myself time. Last thing I'd ever wanna do is unintentionally offend or hurt her. Now, will ya do some work for once in your life and hand me those wooden boards o’there?” he gestured to the planks of wood that were resting along one of the empty stalls. “All I will say is that woman is amazing. Not to sound like a total cliché, but she’s a breath of fresh air. Sunlight after a raging storm. She’s–”

“Made of stardust and coffee beans.” Tommy chimed in with a playful grin. “Well, you got it bad, Joel. S’alright. Happens to the best of us.” He shot his brother a knowing wink before he retrieved the wooden boards with ease.

Joel couldn’t help but allow a tiny glimpse of a smile tug on his lips from Tommy’s words. A moment of peace and blissful thoughts was better than dwelling on the elephant in the room. Something was unquestionably off about Lucas, and his rather alarming behavior.

*end Joel’s POV*

In the safety and familiar warmth of Joel’s sheets, your mind was free to wander and romp. Your brain's natural defenses to block out painful memories and terrifying events, crumbled as you subconsciously breathed in the comforting scent of Joel, your Joel. Unbeknownst to you, he was your ticket to peace. Your shining beacon of light through a pitch black formidable darkness.

As a gentle breeze swayed through the curtains in his bedroom, you were subconsciously reliving your time before Jackson. Before Maria, Tommy, and Joel. Memories that were once fragmented and jagged, were being pieced together behind softly closed lashes.

dead of the winter; post outbreak. Date unspecified. 50 miles from Jackson.

Tess was gradually growing weaker with each step she took through the billowing snow. Your horse was strong-footed and able bodied, but even she had her limits. You were beginning to feel numbness engulf your body. It felt like a thousand shards of ice impaling your skin. Your lungs ached and burned from the sub-zero temperatures. Your fingers and toes were growing stiff as you urged your mare onwards.

“Just a bit further, please, Tess. We—we can’t stop now.” You murmured through chattering teeth as the wind whipped wildly and howled in your ears.

All hope seemed to disintegrate through your frozen lashes as you could feel your body begin to shut down. It was giving up, but you weren’t ready for death's cold grasp.

You were a survivor, after all.

Smoke. Fire. Warmth.

A miracle, or a hallucination created by your deteriorating body. The fact of the matter was that you were not going to die tonight. Tess seemed to sense your desperation and urgency as she forced herself to continue forward towards the looming evergreens. The distinguishable smell of ash wafted through your nostrils the closer you drew to the campsite. You knew that fire also meant danger, but your brain had gone into survival mode and could give less of a fuck about that.

The campsite you and Tess stumbled upon seemed to be unoccupied. It should have raised your suspicions, but when you collapsed from your saddle and landed on the snowy ground with a soft thud, you convinced yourself it was a miracle. You dragged yourself closer to the fire with whatever strength you had left and rubbed your frozen gloved hands together to create some friction.

Tess’s velvet soft muzzle nudged at your back as she checked to make sure that you were okay. Her ears perked and flicked in the direction of a familiar nicker as she lifted her head quickly to observe her surroundings. Four horses were seen happily munching away on a heap of hay. Your poor mare hadn’t eaten in what felt like weeks, and her own survival instincts kicked in as she approached the other horses with timid curiosity.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hunched over in relief. You didn’t believe in God, but if you did, then this fire must have been brought to you by a goddamn angel.

Your relief turned to dread the moment you felt the cooling sensation of metal kissing the back of your neck.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” The voice commanded as you slowly raised your arms above your head to show that you were no immediate threat.

“I’m—sorry. I assumed no one was here—I’m freezing.” Your teeth were still audibly chattering as you craned your neck to look up at the person the voice belonged to.

A man.

“Are you alone?” He had not removed the barrel of his gun from your neck as he proceeded to pat you down with his freehand.

“Yes, I am alone.”

He paused momentarily as he pondered on what should be done with you, the intruder.

“Where are you headed to?” He asked firmly.

“Nowhere. Just got caught up in this storm, and seeking shelter.”

“I see..and you’re not lyin’ when you said that you’re alone?”

“I swear on my life, I am alone. It’s just my horse Tess and I.” You pleaded softly as you took a shaky inhale through your nose.

“I believe you.”

Your shoulders immediately slumped in relief as you released the breath you were holding.

The man slowly retracted his gun into his holster before he offered you his hand. The first thing you noticed was his tattooed skin on the inside of his wrist. The fabric of his jacket had lifted just enough for you to make out the design. A wolf head with beady red eyes that appeared to be staring right into your soul.

“Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair by the morning. I just need to warm up a bit if that’s alright?” You grasped his outstretched hand as he gently hoisted you to your feet.

“Nonsense. You’re freezin’, and probably starvin’, right? C’mon, let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

You were beyond starving, but he didn’t need to know that. You were slightly weary of this stranger's sudden hospitality, but that didn’t deter you from making the choice that would haunt you forever.

“I suppose..I could eat something.” You mumbled under your breath.

He smiled, it appeared genuine on the surface, but it masked unspeakable evil beneath white teeth, and kind eyes.

He told you his name, and you told him yours as he led you to his nearby tent. Your body shamelessly relaxed as he offered you safety and food in your belly. If only you knew what was to come.

You didn’t leave the following morning. Or the morning after . Nor the morning after that. You stuck around because the truth was, you weren’t going to survive on your own for much longer, and here was an opportunity that your brain was screaming at you to not pass up on. Endure and survive, and survive you did. Even if it meant joining a raiders camp.

It didn’t happen overnight, as trust takes time to be built and nurtured, but when it did happen, the lines were gradually blurred. Was this a genuine feeling from your heart that hadn’t been touched by another soul since before the outbreak, or was this simply your brain concocting a plan to keep your heart beating, and your blood pumping. The fact of the matter was that you firmly believed your body was incapable of dipping back into the shredded remnants of intimacy that you left behind in Austin. One thing was for certain, this man offered you protection, warmth, and steady nutrients, and you’d be damned if you let that go.

In your eyes, you consensually engaged in a physical relationship with this man. Make him want you. Make him need you so much that you’ll never live in fear again. Because once you make him believe that he is important, he’ll protect you till your last dying breath.

If only it were that easy. If only you knew that the monsters weren’t the cordyceps, but instead they were shaped as a man that you willingly shared a tent with.

You thought you had played him like a fiddle, but he was onto you without you realizing it. He had your little game all figured out, and when you did, it was too late.

Those same kind eyes, and bright smile was the last thing you remember seeing before everything went black as your body slumped into his lap. The tea mug that was in your hands now clattered to the ground, shattering upon impact. Your arm fell limp at your side as your breath stilled. Unbeknownst to you, the tea he gave you was laced, and now you were at his mercy.

When you awoke the following morning, your mind was groggy and laden with confusion as you tried to piece together the missing fragments of last night’s events . The ground was cold beneath you as your eyes fluttered open. The coolness of metal bit fiercely at your bare skin giving you goosebumps You were encaged; literally. Surrounded by steel bars as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position, but it felt like your body weighed a ton of bricks. You tried to scream, but your vocal chords felt shot as your voice fell silent.

You shook the bars with a new instilled fear as tears flooded your cheeks like a rushing river. Your eyes frantically looked around as a heavy pair of boots slowly approached.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you, princess.” The familiar voice cooed unpleasantly and bile rose up your throat.

“You—you did this to me! Why?!” Your voice cracked. Your brain was scrambling to piece your broken memory together. One moment you were drinking tea, and the next—

“You played me for a fuckin’ fool. Thought you could just use me for your own survival, huh? Well, baby, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.”

“What—what are you talking about?! What did you do to me?! Where are my clothes?!”

He crouched down as his cruel gaze met your frightened one. His hand grasped your chin harshly as he yanked your face against the bars that encaged you. “I put you in your fucking place. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch onto your little game? You think you’re so fuckin’ smart, huh? You thought you had me all figured out. That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Oh so wrong. You’re the fuckin’ fool.”

“Please, I’m sorry! I wasn’t—you’ve got it all wrong! I swear!” You pleaded desperately as he dug the blunt end of his fingernails into your chin.

“Oh, my dear sweet, naive creature, you walked right into the wolves fuckin’ den without even realizing it. You’re the fool for trusting me, and now you’re gonna pay for it until I decide to put you out of your misery. Save your tears, princess. You’re gonna need them.”

You woke up in a thick pool of sweat. The sheets clung to your skin like glue, and it felt like you were trapped. Joel’s bedroom sickly transformed into steel bars. Cold, and biting at your raw skin. You blinked, hoping this was all a hallucination. Your mind just playing a twisted trick on your fragile state. You called for Joel. You called for anyone who could possibly hear your pleas. The more you struggled, the more the bars seemed to close in on you. Suffocating. Stripping your lungs of all oxygen as your hands clawed at your throat.

Where was Joel?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight to the point where it felt painful. Seconds ticked before you finally threw the covers from your body with a strangled gasp. Your eyes shot open as you surveyed your surroundings. The steel bars were gone. The tattoo—

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

You chanted these three phrases under your breath like a woman gone mad. Your skin was clammy to the touch as you stumbled away from the bed.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

Write this down.

Your eyes frantically locked in on the note that was left along the nightstand. You snatched it up in a fury. Your vision darted across every word on the page as if it held some hidden clue between the lines.

You continued to recite the three phrases as you tucked the note into the pocket of the flannel pajama bottoms you were wearing. Your ears picked up on the familiar sound of the front door being unlocked. Your feet seemed to carry you faster than your brain could process as you stumbled out of Joel’s bedroom.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

“Joel!” You yelled urgently from the top of the stairs

“Beanie!” He answered back with the same level of urgency. He met you at the halfway point of the staircase before you collapsed into his arms.

“Beanie?! What’s wrong? Darlin’ what’s happened?” His arms remained anchored around your waist as you grasped his forearms tightly, he surely would have indents in his skin from your death grip.

“Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady red eyes.” You mumbled with your forehead pressed deeply into his chest.

“Beanie, what are you goin’ on about? What tattoo? Darlin’, this ain’t makin’ any sense at all! Please, tell me what’s going on?!” He tried his hardest not to yell, but after what happened in the stables, he was in fact freaking out.

“He—he has a tattoo! A tattoo on his wrist, Joel!” You spoke in a frantic, excitable tone.

“Beanie, who has a tattoo?” His tone was hushed, and far less frantic than your own.

You knew his name. You heard it in your nightmare. Five letters. You could say it. You could say it right now and it would all be over!

“The man. He—he has a tattoo. Right wrist, Joel! He has a tattoo. A wolf head! Beady red eyes! It’s on his wrist! I know it is—you have to believe me!”

“Beanie, darlin’, I believe you. Is this the man that?—“

it was as if everything came crashing down around you so suddenly. You stilled in his grasp. Your voice ran silent as you slowly lifted your head from his chest. Your eyes were glazed over as if you were dead inside. Perhaps you were. Perhaps your body was shutting down. Were you breathing? Was your heart pumping blood? Everything was sounding so fuzzy. So far away. The cage. The steel bars. No. No. No. please! You—you have it all wrong! I swear!

You couldn’t hear Joel screaming your name. You couldn’t feel his hands around your body. You couldn’t see him. You were reaching out for him and touching nothing but thin air.

“Beanie, what’s happening?! You’re scarin’ me!” He watched in horror as your eyes rolled back into your skull before you went limp in his arms.

“Doc, I don’t fucking understand. What the hell happened to her?! She was muttering under her breath. Something about a tattoo on a man’s wrist! Next thing I know, she’s talking as if I ain’t even there! Like she was reliving somethin?!’ Then her eyes roll back—and I fuckin’ thought she was dead!”

“Joel, I need you to calm down. She had an extremely intense PTSD episode. I’m not even sure if I have the qualifications to explain it. It was a panic attack that led to her body to shut down ...” The doctor spoke in a hushed tone.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea what that was like to witness it?! I didn’t even fucking know how to help her, doc!” Joel was gripping his hair so tightly between his fists, it was shocking that he didn’t accidentally tear any strands out.

“Joel, I’m gonna need you to calm down, or you’re gonna get escorted out. Do I make myself clear? Not to mention, you’re gonna fucking hyperventilate if you keep this shit up! I need you to take some deep breaths and pull yourself together!” Doc sounded exasperated as he struggled to keep his own cool.

“Joel?! Hey, hey! C’mon, let’s go take a breather, okay? Ellie and Dina are in there with her. She’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go take a walk.” Tommy had shown up at just the right time as Joel was thinking of all the ways he could ring up the doc.

Tommy whispered something in his brother's ear as he wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder before nearly having to drag the older Miller brother down the hall through the doors of the med ward.

“Beanie?” A familiar feminine voice asked softly from your bedside.

Ellie and Dina were seated next to the hospital bed that you currently laid in.

Your lashes fluttered open as you squinted up at the annoying bright buzzing fluorescent lights. Your head turned to the side of the scratchy pillow as your brain began to process who the voice belonged to.

“Ellie? Dina? Where—am I?” You whispered with uncertainty as the two teens slowly looked over at one another before returning their focus back onto you.

“Beanie,” Dina started, “you..had a panic attack.” Ellie murmured.

“What? I don’t remember any of it—who brought me here?”

“Joel did. He came rushing out of the house with you limp in his arms. He was yelling for help and we heard the commotion. Beanie, we thought you were dead.”

“When—did this happen?” You asked just nearly above a whisper as you began to cycle through your memories. Unfortunately, a huge chunk was missing and you could feel the frustration tears begin to brew along your waterline.

“This morning. Right before the breakfast bell.” Dina confirmed. She let go of Ellie’s hand as she reached for the box of tissues for you.

“What time is it now? How long have I been here?”

“An hour after the dinner bell went off. You’ve been unconscious all day, Beanie.” Ellie stood up from the chair and approached your bedside slowly sinking down along the edge of the worn mattress. “Can we get you anything? You must be starving.”

Your body sunk further into the mattress as the weight of Ellie’s words made their mark. It felt like it had only been minutes, when it had in fact been hours. “Some water, and—bread with honey? If the mess hall is still open.” You were feeling quite parched.

“Of course. C’mon, Dee. We might have to bribe Angie to whip something up. We’ll be right back. Okay, Beanie?” Ellie gently patted your covered knee before she stood up from the edge of the bedside and offered her hand to Dina.

“Okay.” You weakly responded.

Shortly after the girls left, the door opened once more. Your mind had already hoped it was Joel, but instead you were met with a different pair of brown eyes; Tommy’s.

“Hey, how are we feelin?’” The younger Miller brother softly asked as he sank down into one of the chairs.

“Where’s Joel, Tommy?”

“He’s outside takin’ a breather. Got pretty mouthy with doc, so I stepped in before things coulda gotten ugly. He’ll be alright though. Jus’ need him to blow off some steam first. He’s a bit too excitable to be in here right now.”

You could faintly taste copper along your tongue as you slowly sat up. The right side of your mouth felt swollen and tender, and when you reached your hand up to touch the outside of your cheek, Tommy gently grabbed your wrist and lowered it back down to your side.

“Y’tore your mouth up pretty good. Doc said it’ll heal on its own, but to try and not chew on the right side. Don’t wanna go and irritate it.”

“Tommy, I don’t remember what happened. None of it.”

“Beanie, it’s okay. It was a panic attack. The Doc believes you to have PTSD. You’re gonna be alright. Joel told me that before you passed out, you were muttering about a tattoo on a man’s wrist? Beanie, I know how adamant my brother is about protecting you, but I am too. So, if there’s anything you remember outside of the tattoo, I need you to tell me, okay?” Tommy was a good person. You knew this since him and Maria saved you all those years ago. He never treated you differently. You could trust him just as much as you could trust Joel.

Five letters. Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady eyes.

Tommy wrote everything down.

Ellie and Dina came back with water, bread with honey plus a bit of chili from the mess hall. When Angie heard the news, she wasted no time to whip something up for you. She was such a giving person.

Doc didn’t have any helpful information to relay back to you. He basically just told you to take it easy, and to let your mouth heal. He had no answers to your questions, psychiatry isn’t his field after all. And this made you feel like you truly were just a nutty coffee woman. Maybe even a lost cause. It wasn’t until deep into the night when your Joel finally made an appearance.

You were half asleep when you heard the sound of one of the chairs scrape across the flooring. The sound nearly had you shooting up from the covers before two strong, yet gentle pair of hands eased you back down.

“Shh. It’s okay, Beanie. It’s just me. It’s just Joel.” He reassured you as he slowly sank down into the chair as he removed his hands from your shoulders and rested them between his knees.

Your eyes zoned in on the gauze wrapped around his bicep as he cleared his throat softly.

“Joel, what happened to you?” You timidly asked.

“S’just a scratch, darlin.’ You were holding onto me pretty dang tight. Broke the skin a little, but I’m okay.”

“Joel, I’m so sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I don’t even remember grabbing onto you like that. Where were we when it happened?”

“Beanie, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me, Angel. You were havin’ a panic attack in the middle of the staircase. I came home from the stables, and you came rushing down, and we met halfway. It all happened so fast.”

“Joel, I did hurt you. You’re fucking injured because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Look what you’ve done.

He’s really going to think that you're just a nutty coffee woman now.

“Beanie, I need you to believe me when I tell you it’s okay. You didn’t have any control of your actions, and I’d never hold that against you, okay? Y’just, you had me so freaked out. You stopped breathing. I couldn’t find your pulse, and I thought you were dead. Thought you had a heart attack or somethin’. Scared me so bad. I’m just so happy that you’re okay.” He was reaching for your hand now as his fingers loosely interlocked with your own.

“I stopped..breathing? Oh god, Joel. I—I don’t even know what to say. Doc didn’t even have much of an explanation for me. Just told me to take it easy and to be gentle with my mouth.”

“He’s fuckin’ useless. I wish he had the answers for you, Beanie. I really wish he did. But, the good news is that I can take ya home whenever you’d like, okay? We can stop by your place, and then head back to mine.”

“Joel, what are you talking about? Why can’t I go back to my home?” He saw the confused frown appear on your lips as he let out a heavy sigh. His thumb gently stroked the outside of your hand as his eyes met yours.

“Beanie, I know you ain’t gonna agree to this, but I think it’s best that for the time being you stay at my place. I want to make sure that you have the time to recover, and the girls would love to spend some more time with you. It’ll only be for a little while. I promise.”

“Joel, I appreciate your offer, but I just want to go home. Can I please go home?”

“Honey, I know you do, but this will only be for a few days tops. I would never force you to agree to this. I’m just suggestin’ it for your own well-being, okay? Jus’ need ya to trust me to trust you. Y’remember that day, dontcha baby?”

Even your stubbornness had its limits. Despite not initially agreeing, you could tell just from Joel’s eyes alone, that he just wanted to take care of you. Perhaps his initial reasoning was a little selfish, but it undoubtedly felt good knowing that someone in this world cared about you so much, that your well-being was important to them.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.” You squeezed his hand firmly as he gave you a reassuring nod.

Joel gave you all the time that you needed to gather up your belongings from home. He assured you that this would only be temporary, and he just wanted to make sure that you would heal. You were too exhausted to put up a fight as you zipped your backpack up with a sigh.

You loosely held hands the entire short walk back to his home. You could faintly hear girlish giggles coming from the otherside of the front door as he unlocked it.

“Tommy sent Ellie and Dina over to keep an eye on Honey. We finished buildin’ her pen next to Tex earlier this morning.” He murmured softly as he pushed the handle down and nudged it open with his shoulder.

A smile began to slowly creep over your tired features as Ellie, Dina, and a very playful Honey were seen in your peripheral. Dina was laying between Ellie’s arms on the couch while she was holding the baby bottle at Honey’s level. The young fawn was happily drinking her fill from the bottle, her fluffy white tail wagging happily.

Joel brushed past you with ease before he cleared his throat. “Hey, if you want, y’girls can take Honey up to Ellie’s for the night?”

Ellie briefly made eye contact with Joel before she returned her gaze to the sweet giggles coming from Dina. “Are you sure that’s alright?”

“Positive. S’late , and Beanie oughta be gettin’ some sleep.” Joel replied.

“Alright. We’ll get out of your hair then, Joel. C’mon, Dee, let’s go to bed.” She gave Dina’s shoulder a soft squeeze.

Joel watched silently as the two girls departed from the couch. Dina was protectively holding Honey in her arms now as if she was a small child. The two girls nodded in your direction before they headed upstairs to Ellie’s room.

He didn’t sleep a wink. Last night’s nightmare a long forgotten memory. He wanted to make sure you were okay. So, he stayed up for the rest of the night thinking about you and Ellie.

Two days had passed since your panic attack. Joel would be with you in the early mornings before he’d be whisked off on patrol, and he’d be with you in the evenings. When he wasn’t around during the day, you were graced by both Dina and Ellie’s presence. You weren’t aware of it yet, but both girls cared for you deeply. Girlhood was alive and well in Jackson.

You spent the afternoon in the stables with Ellie and Dina Spending time with the horses and Honey. The young fawn was settling into her new home under the watchful eye of both Tex and Tess.

In the evening, shortly after dinner, you suggested to the girls that it would be fun to have a proper girls night. Face masks, movies, snacks, and of course some crafting. You showed them how to make paint paste from crushing down flower petals and adding a bit of water to turn the powder into a workable paste. A dash of olive oil helped lessen the grainy texture. You promised them that at a later date, you’d show them how to spin the clay wheel, just as you promised Joel.

The record player was crackling softly when the front door squeaked open and closed. Joel hung his rifle along the side of the door before he sunk down onto the bench with a soft grunt. His back hurt ten times more than usual today. He and Tommy patrolled for miles under the sweltering sun. And his frustrations were apparent as he unlaced his boots with a huff, and threw them to the side.

Ellie and Dina were seated at the kitchen table, focused on their paintings as you were making a plate of sandwiches to share. Despite being focused on the task at hand, you faintly heard the sound of the front door opening. You knew Joel was home, finally.

He was scrubbing his hands down his face when he heard your footsteps before you sat down along the wooden bench beside him.

“Hey.” He mumbled tiredly as he dropped his hands to his knees. “What’s goin’ on in there?” He questioned as he turned his body to face you, wincing from the strain it put on his back.

“Girls night. You wanna join? I just made some sandwiches.” You placed your hand gently across his own with a soft smile.

“Kind of you to offer, but I ain’t a girl. I don’t wanna spoil y’alls fun. I will, however, have a sandwich if there’s any to spare for me?” He forced a smile through his pain, clenching his jaw slightly.

“Joel, there’s plenty of sandwiches to go around. I’ll fix you a plate, alright?” You squeezed his hand soothingly.

“Thank you, doll. I’ll probably be out in the shed so y’girls have the house to yourselves.” He added.

“How was patrol?” You asked with genuine concern when you zoned in on the red, blistered patch spreading across the bridge of his nose. “You want some lotion for that? Sun must have been brutal out there.”

He scoffed under his breath as he leaned back against the wall. “It was shit.” He wanted to tell you more, but it was too risky. Too much was currently at stake, and he didn’t want to cause you unnecessary stress. You had been through too much. “Yeah, sun was brutal. Spent a lot of time out in the open plains. Ain’t much cover out there.” He drawled.

“I’m sorry, honey. ” You murmured as you reached your hand up and gently raked your fingers through his hair in a hope to bring him some form of comfort.

“S’okay, darlin.’ How are you doin?’” He asked softly as he leaned into your caress. His mind may have been a warzone, but his words masked it well enough.

“Pretty good. Honey is settling into her new home. I showed Ellie and Dina how to make their own paints from crushed up flower petals. We’re gonna do face masks soon and then watch a movie. Are ya sure you don’t want to join?” You leaned in, letting your fingers slowly drop from his hair, and brush across his weathered cheekbone.

“I’m glad to hear it. Face masks and a movie sound tempting, but I don’t wanna intrude and spoil y’alls fun.” He reassured you as he went in for a kiss. You must have sensed that he needed it as soon as his lips brushed yours, and your lashes fluttered shut. The sweet moment passed as he gently squeezed your knee before he pushed himself up from the bench. You watched as he shuffled down the hall and out of sight.

With a sigh you gathered up his discarded boots and placed them neatly on the doormat next to your own before returning to the kitchen. “Are you girls ready for some sandwiches and face masks?” You asked with a genuine smile as you clasped your hands together.

Both girls nodded and offered to help clean up the table first while you grabbed a plate and placed a couple sandwiches on it before making your way outside to Joel’s shed. You found him sitting in silence with his notebook open on a blank page, sans the title in the top right corner; To Bill and Frank. You set the plate down quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before heading back inside the house.

Dina was in the family room with her own plate while Ellie was still putzing around the kitchen. It appeared as if she had been waiting for you to return based on the way she was nervously ringing her hands together.

“Hey, Beanie?” The teen asked as she eyed her drying painting.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

She took a deep breath before exhaling. “How’s um–how’s Joel doin’ lately?” She asked just above a whisper.

“He’s doing okay. Well, at least I think he is? I think Patrol is weighing on him lately. Y’know, I'm sure he’d love it if you asked him yourself.”

A pained expression crossed Ellie’s face as she brought her arms across her chest in a protective motion, shaking her head tightly at your suggestion. “I can’t do that, Beanie.”

“Ellie, look, I know that you and Joel aren’t on good terms right now, but–”

“What do you know of it?” She questioned.

Your eyes flickered to where Dina was sitting on the couch, and then back to Ellie as your shoulders slumped inwards. “Let's go upstairs for a minute to talk, okay? You can help me grab the skincare stuff.”

Ellie glanced back towards Dina before she nodded in agreement and followed you up the staircase.

“Beanie,” She started timidly, “Did Joel–did he tell you about me?” Ellie was a smart enough kid to know the answer, but she wanted to hear it directly from you.

“He did, a few days ago. The same night that you came home and found us in the kitchen. After you left, he told me about what he did to save you and that you’re distant from him because of it.”

Ellie fought the urge to laugh as she leaned against the bathroom sink with her arms crossed. You could see her fingers begin to tremble. “Yeah? Did he also fail to mention that he fuckin’ killed an entire hospital of Fireflies? And he took the choice of making my life matter away from me?” Her tone was bitter as she gnawed fiercely on her lower lip.

“Ellie, he told me everything, and the reason why he did it.” You reasoned with her as you set the jars of homemade clay masks down on the counter. “Before you jump to conclusions, I understand why you’re upset with him, Ellie.”

She looked surprised as she briefly made eye contact before staring at a chipped patch of paint on the wall. “So, you don’t agree with him then? Is that what you’re telling me? He took my choice away, Beanie. My life could have mattered, and he fuckin’ took that from me.” She whispered grimly as stubborn tears began to trickle down her cheekbones.

“Ellie, your feelings are completely valid. But, your life does matter. You are so important. I know it feels like everything has been ripped from you, but you mean so much to him, Tommy, Dina,myself. I know it’s hard, I know it is, kid. He did what every parent would do for their child, biological or not. He’ll always believe that what he did was right, and that will never change.” You reached your hand up and gently placed it along her shoulder as more tears began to fall.

“I just wish he had given me that choice, Beanie. After everything he and I went through? For what? For my immunity to just be fuckin’ wasted? What if there was a chance? What if this cure–” She clenched her fists tightly as she tucked her chin against her shoulder to try and block out the tears.

“Ellie, the journey that you and Joel took together was not wasted. You survived together. You helped him in more ways than you and I can even begin to imagine. You saved him just as much as he saved you. Ellie, he loves you. He loves you so goddamn much. The world is filled with cruel people. People who take advantage of others weaknesses. People who were born with hate in their hearts, and people who learned to hate. To be cruel. To hurt those around them. Do you know what you’ve done for him, Ellie? You taught that man how to unlearn his hatred for the world. You did that, kiddo.”

Ellie’s sniffles echoed against the faded tiles as she wiped her tears on her sleeve. Her perspective of her purpose in life, and her immunity had been skewed for so many years. Marlene told her she could change the world. She could save everyone. She was manipulated into believing that there could be a cure, and as soon as her assumed purpose was ripped away from her, she felt useless.

“There never was going to be a cure, was there? I was..going to die for nothing?” She questioned somberly as her glassy eyes met your empathy filled ones.

“I don’t have that answer for you, kiddo. I’m sorry. Look, I won’t tell you what you should do, but if you find it in your heart to forgive him, start by talking to him, okay? Whenever you feel ready.” You squeezed her shoulder with a reassuring nod.

“And from there?” She asked in hope that somehow you would have all the answers.

“You both get to live in peace as father and daughter.” You concluded.

Ellie was throwing her arms around your neck in an instant, hugging you tightly as she buried her face into your shoulder, sobbing softly.

You let your own arms drape loosely around the teen’s frame as you hugged. You whispered to her that everything would be alright in the end.

“He’s so lucky to have you, Beanie. You’re one in a million, and I'm happy that he has someone. He’s been through so much.” She murmured against your shirt, using the fabric as the vessel to catch her free falling tears.

“You’re one in a million too, kiddo.” You whispered softly, eyes glistening as you rubbed soothing circles into her back.

Joel was sitting out on the back porch. Seated with his guitar comfortably laying across his lap as he plucked a few strings. After writing the letter to Bill and Frank, he needed to take an emotional break from his current feelings. Music always helped, and music connected him to Sarah and Tommy. He was grateful for the fact that he could enjoy something as simple as playing a few strings on a guitar.

Ellie didn’t approach at first. She was nervous, evidently. After her heartfelt discussion with you, she made the conscious decision to finally take the first step in forgiving Joel for what he had taken from her.

Her boots creaked along the wood as his head slowly lifted. His lips parted, eyes glimmering in pure surprise as he set his guitar down to the side.

“Hey, kiddo.” He murmured in acknowledgement of her presence.

Ellie didn’t respond as she walked towards the railing along the porch and placed her hands against the ledge. Her shoulders were tense and stiff as he approached alongside her, owl mug clasped between his palms as his safety net.

“What’re you drinkin?’” She asked while looking down at faded wood on the railing.

“Coffee.” He responded softly while resting his arms over the ledge. “Shouldn’t y’be in there for girls night?” He brought the rim of the mug up to his lips before taking an inaudible sip.

“I just wanted to come out here for a bit of fresh air.” Ellie mumbled her little white lie.

“Oh, I see. Well, I don’t wanna go disturbin’ your fresh air.” He went to walk away, but Ellie stopped him.

“Joel, that’s not what I meant. Look, I just. Fuck, I’m so stupid.” She whispered under her breath.

“Kiddo, you’re not stupid. I jus–” He was cut off by her words slicing through the balmy air like a sharpened blade.

“I was supposed to die in that hospital, Joel. That was my purpose. And my life would have fuckin’ mattered, but you took that from me. I know you were just doin’ what you believed to be the right thing, Joel. I know you were just tryin’ to save me, but I can’t just let that go. I still lay awake at night thinking about what would have happened if I had died in that hospital. If the doctors extracted the cordyceps from my brain and created a cure, maybe the world would be a different place than it is now. I guess we’ll never know because there is zero chance of ever creating the vaccine.” She fought through fresh tears. In truth, she wanted to yell. To scream and pound her fists into his chest, but she knew this was for the better.

“Ellie, if I was ever given the chance, I’d do it all over again.” His eyes locked on hers. “I know I took that choice from you, but Marlene did as well. Why else do you think we were ambushed? Marlene knew that I wouldn’t let you go through with it had I known that you would have to die. I trusted Marlene , and she wouldn’t even let us say goodbye. To talk to you one last time. I asked and she took you to surgery while I was out cold.. I know it was selfish of me. I know it was, but losing the world felt unbearable and I had to save it.” He was visibly showing discomfort by the way his fingers flexed and trembled against the outside of the mug. His words fell heavy as he awaited Ellie’s response.

“Joel, you didn’t save the world. You took the last shred of hope that humanity had and fuckin’ crushed it! I could have made a difference! I could have saved the world, Joel!” Her voice cracked as her words were lodged in her throat from the oncoming wave of tears.

“I did save the world. I saved my world, Ellie. I lost a daughter once, and I wasn’t about to lose another. Not when you and I endured so much together. You may not be my flesh and blood, but you’re my daughter, and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” His own tears began to prick the corner of his eyes at his confession. His heart clenched and twisted like a fist. “I couldn’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Ellie.” He croaked.

“I don’t know if I'll ever be able to forgive you, Joel. But I would like to try.” There it was. That sliver of hope that you told Joel to hold onto, and Ellie the same. The extension of an olive branch. A father and daughter making up.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek and clinked softly against the rim of his mug. His lower lip wobbled as he sniffled softly.

“I’d like that.”

Ellie released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding as her body relaxed. She gradually found herself gravitating towards him as their shoulders brushed gently.

A moment’s silence passed before Joel spoke again. “Ellie, I need to tell ya somethin’ that only uncle Tommy and I know about, okay?”

“What is it that you need to tell me, Joel?” Her cheek slowly came to rest between the dip in his shoulder as his posture relaxed.

“Tommy and I have been gatherin’ up evidence and writing up reports to turn in to Maria. We’re under the suspicion that Lucas, one of the guys on patrol, has ulterior motives inside the community. I need you and Dina to stay sharp, okay? You see anythin’ suspicious, you alert Tommy and I immediately, okay, baby girl?”

“How long have you been suspecting him, Joel?”

“Since that night at the Tipsy Bison. When I confronted Seth for calling you and Dina a homophobic slur. The same night that Lucas ‘innocently’ grabbed Beanie’s arm outside the ladies room.“ He confirmed.

“Y’don’t think he has anythin’ to do with those charred bodies that you and Tommy found in the woods last winter, do you?” Ellie asked with uncertainty.

Joel sighed deeply as he tightened his grip around the mug. His deep brown pools met hers in a stern, serious look. “I think he has everythin’ to do with those poor women that we found in the woods.”

______________

*Ambiguous POV*

Raider camp. Approximately five miles south of Jackson

“And what if she’s not in her home, what do we do then?” The man asked.

“She’ll be there. I’m sure of it. And in the case she’s not? Don’t you fuckin’ bother showin’ up empty handed. Haven’t you been lookin’ for the opportunity to prove yourself to me? Well, here’s your chance. Don’t disappoint me.” The other man warned his counterpart with a deadly look as he twirled his favorite blade in his hand.

The peaceful utopian community of Jackson would never see this coming.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x f!reader #joel x reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #joel tlou #protective joel #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller series

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

Playing Pretend (Part 9)

Two fools finally admit how they feel.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.6k words

Warnings: Language, lots of kissing, allusions to smutty things

Series Masterlist

Roy’s heart was hammering when you walked into the reception. It didn’t matter that he’d already seen how gorgeous you looked, or that his lips had been pressed against yours all weekend, or even that he was a professional fucking footballer who’d dated women like Gina Gershwin. You always had this effect on him, even more so now that he was finally ready to tell you he loved you.

His resolve flew out the window when you confidently strolled up to him and took the champagne he held in his hand. “Thought you were going to have something strong waiting for me?” you teased, downing the half-empty glass, the bubbles tickling your tongue.

“That was mine,” he chuckled. “Some server came and shoved it into my hand as soon as I walked in.” He picked up a glass from the table and offered it to you, the condensation dripping over his fingers. “This is yours.”

With a sheepish grin as your apology, you accepted the glass and took a sip. Whiskey. Your usual go-to drink when you were with Roy. The familiar burn had your mind racing, remembering the dream you had last night. God, it was kind of embarrassing. In your dream, you pounced on Roy as soon as you got back to your room from the rehearsal dinner. And he rejected you. And- ugh even worse- he was so damn nice about it. It wouldn’t be the first time you dreamt about him, it wasn’t even the raciest dream by far, but knowing he was in the same bed as you while you dreamt it… and the fact that even in your dreams you didn’t have a chance with him… oof.

But you couldn’t think about that right now. You had to take your seat next to Roy and applaud with everyone else as your sister and her new husband made their grand entrance. Instinctively, Roy reached for your hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze when Jim laid a particularly deep kiss on your sister’s lips. But, for the first time all weekend, you found that you really didn’t care. Maybe it was having the gorgeous footballer of your dreams doting on you for days now, even if it was just for show, but the stabbing feeling in your chest didn’t appear.

Instead, you turned to Roy and smiled, a real smile, and leaned close. “So, how many dances are you good for tonight?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Told you, as many as you want.” He connected his lips to yours, a deep, loving kiss, a real one, whether you knew it or not. “I am all yours tonight.”

If only he knew how badly you wished that was true. And if only you knew how true it was.

The two of you chatted with Jen and Paul during dinner, making jokes about the poshness of the weekend, blushing when your older sister began teasing you about your own wedding that she was so sure would be happening soon. Once servers came around to begin clearing plates, Roy joined your favorite brother-in-law at the bar to grab another round so you’d have something stronger than champagne for the toasts.

“God that man loves you,” Jen clucked, poking your nose affectionately.

You blushed and looked down. “Seems like it, huh?”

She nudged you. “I’m serious. That look in his eye is the same one I remember Paul having right before he asked me out for the first time. It’s cute, seeing Roy Kent all domestic and in love.” She kissed your cheek. “Especially with my little sister.”

Before you could figure out what to say, Roy was sitting back down, plopping two drinks down on the table. “Miss me?” he teased, stealing a small kiss, the naturalness of the action making your heart skip a beat.

“Always,” you answered, trying to find that look in his eye that Jen had mentioned. You thought you might have seen something in the way his eyes lingered on yours, that soft smile playing on his lips that you couldn’t believe you got to kiss. A thought you’d never had before crossed your mind: I should tell Roy how I feel.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t feel scared of the inevitable rejection of telling Roy Kent you loved him. Even though you always knew it, this weekend really showed you how much Roy cared about you. You knew that his “no” would be compassionate and full of affection and be said in a way that let you know he loved you, even if it wasn’t the way you wanted. If there was ever a time to tell Roy Kent you loved him, it was tonight.

As the best man took the microphone for the first speech of the night, Roy pulled your chair closer to his, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “Alright,” he whispered in your ear. “Take a drink every time someone says something that makes you want to vomit.”

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace and stoking his cheek with your finger. “Or anytime someone narrowly avoids mentioning that the groom used to date the bride’s sister.”

Roy’s stifled laugh filled your heart. “We’ll be sloshed before the dancing starts.”

You really only half-heard the speeches. Your mind was too preoccupied with Roy- his arm around you, his breath on your cheek, the thought of telling him how you felt, the possible reactions he would have. You did listen enough to exchange knowing looks with Roy over the top of your glasses when the maid of honor- a friend of your sister’s from college- made a comment about “love at first sight” that elicited more than a few raised eyebrows.

“Fucking wanker,” Roy hissed, glaring harshly at Jim.

“Doesn’t matter,” you assured him, kissing his cheek; he immediately softened at the feeling of your lips on his skin. “Shit, sorry,” you giggled, picking up a napkin to wipe away the lipstick mark you left on his scruff.

Roy had to stop himself from telling you to leave it there, loving the idea of being marked by you.

It felt like an eternity before the dancing finally began. While you fully expected Roy to drag his feet and need a bit of prodding to get moving, he surprised you by immediately offering his hand as a bouncy Whitney Houston song urged people to the dance floor.

“Shall we?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor, thankful that you had the one partner you knew would never make fun of your lack of rhythm. Roy quickly set you at ease, bringing his body close to yours, moving his shoulders effortlessly, even giving you a flirty twirl or two. Dancing with Roy Kent was the most fun you’d ever had.

After a few fun, fast songs, a slow Adele song filled the air. Roy raised his eyebrows expectantly, taking your shy grin as permission to pull you flush against him, his hands settling low on your back, definitely lower than a friend’s hands should be. You reciprocated by letting your hands linger at the nape of his neck, your fingers brushing against those curls you loved so much.

“How’re you feeling?” Roy asked, his voice thick with concern. “Surviving?”

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

“More than surviving,” you answered lightly, wanting nothing more than to dive into those eyes that stared at you with affection. “Honestly. I’m actually having a great time with you.”

He nodded. “Good. Good.” His grip tightened on you. “D’you think anyone would notice if we disappeared? Went for a little walk?”

It was as if he could read your mind. “I don’t really care if anyone notices,” you admitted. “Come on.” You reached for one of his hands and tugged him off the dance floor, away from the reception, not stopping until you were in a darker, quieter part of the property, an overgrown garden couples often disappeared to on warm evenings like this one.

“Feels like I’m in a fucking Jane Austen novel,” Roy joked, giving your hand a squeeze.

You snorted, as if you weren’t nervous as all hell. “What do you know about Jane Austen?” you challenged.

Roy smirked. “I know they go for lots of walks in gardens. And that her books always have the best love confessions. I even know that ‘bewitched me body and soul’ wasn’t in the book, although it is a fucking romantic line.”

“Roy Kent,” you huffed, shaking your head. “When will you stop being the perfect man?”

He stopped under the cover of a willow tree, enclosing the two of you in your own private world as he took your other hand, holding both tightly. “You think I’m perfect?”

You realized what you’d just said. “I mean… come on,” you scoffed, trying to play it off. “You’re Roy Kent, aren’t you? Handsome footballer. What girl wouldn’t-”

“But you,” he interrupted, his eyes full of yearning. “You think I’m perfect?” Before you could choke out an answer, he continued. “Because I think you are. I’ve thought it for a long fucking time.”

It was as if the world was both spinning and frozen at the same time. “Roy, what are you saying?”

He kept a firm grip on your hands, his eyes searching yours frantically. “You kissed me. Last night, in our room, you kissed me.”

You froze. It wasn’t a dream.

“And I wanted it so fucking badly,” he continued, letting one of his hands cup your cheek. “But you were so fucking sloshed- and shit, I didn’t know what you really wanted and-”

“Oh, fuck this,” you gasped, grabbing his face and pulling him close, letting your lips crash into his hungrily, not caring if your nails left little crescent marks on his cheeks. If anything, they’d mark him as yours.

He melted into the kiss, his own arms wrapping around your waist to hold you tighter, tight as he could, marveling at the feeling of finally fucking having you for his own. He’d served you your drinks tonight; you were a tad tipsy, sure, and he could absolutely taste the delicious mix of whiskey and champagne and wedding cake on your tongue, but he knew you were sober enough that your kiss was telling him the absolute truth: I want you just as much as you want me.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips, refusing to break the kiss for anything short of the apocalypse. “I fucking love you.”

You seemed to agree, because you gasped, “I love you too,” into his mouth, the sensation and words both sending shivers down his spine.

The kiss lasted forever. Or barely a moment. You weren’t sure which. You just knew that when the two of you finally came up for air, there was no mistaking the delight on Roy Kent’s face, the same delight you knew you wore.

“Your lipstick’s a bit fucked,” he teased, the red on his own mouth evidence of his observation.

“I don’t think I care,” you admitted. “It’s a good color on you, anyways.” Deciding he needed a bit more of your lipstick, you pressed another kiss to his lips. “You love me, hmm?”

He nodded. “Loved you for a long fucking time actually. You?”

Despite the fact that you just had Roy’s tongue in your mouth, you were suddenly bashful. “Roy, I have loved you for as long as I can remember.”

He let his hands come up to hold your face, his grip gentle as if he was afraid you would break like a china doll. “There was this one Christmas I came home… you were wearing this little pink dress… and you were so fucking lovely.” He shrugged. “I was a fucking goner. I tried so hard not to love you… because I never thought this would happen. Even with the whole football thing, I never thought you’d see me as anything other than the boy you grew up with, your childhood mate. But fuck, it was torture.” His thumb stroked your cheek. “Never wanted anything in this whole fucking world as much as I wanted you.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, haven’t we?” you sighed, pressing your forehead to his. “So much fucking time.”

Roy pressed another kiss to your lips. “Nothing we can’t make up for,” he promised. “And trust me, I plan on making up for every moment we’ve missed.” There was a mischievous sparkle in his eye that set your skin aflame.

With a giggle, you took off the flower crown you wore and placed it carefully on top of his curls. His smile softened, a sweet, lopsided sight you took a mental photo of to hang onto forever. “Looks good on you,” you promised. Anything would look good on that man.

He pulled you back in for another kiss, this time walking you backwards and pressing your back against the willow tree that hid the two of you from the world. One of his hands cupped your face while the other lazily stroked your bare arm, as his mouth slowly explored yours. Your own hands snaked around his shoulders, caressing his neck, trying to memorize the way his hair felt in your gentle grasp. You loved the way he took his time with you, confident and timid all at once, letting out soft groans every time he realized he was kissing you.

“We should head back,” you finally murmured, eyes fluttering as you wondered when his lips had found your neck.

He sighed against your skin. “D’we have to?” The begging whine in his voice had you tightening your grip on his hair, something that had him pressing his body closer against yours.

“Unfortunately,” you giggled, your thumb stroking the material of his shirt. “I’m the sister of the bride and you’re a famous footballer. We’re pretty easy to miss.”

“Fine,” he huffed. Before he let you go, he pressed a particularly languid kiss to your neck, letting his tongue glide over the small bit of skin. The sensation had you shivering. “Cold?” he asked in a smug voice. You could feel his smirk against your skin.

You laughed and shoved him off of you. “Prick,” you teased, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Oi, you better be nice to me,” he warned playfully as the two of you reluctantly started to head back to the party. “Because our first date is either going to be some exclusive five-star restaurant, or a trip to fucking Tesco to buy some mini muffins to eat in the parking lot.”

“As long as you’re there,” you hummed, giving his hand a squeeze, “both sound fine to me.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple, looking positively dreamy in your flower crown. “Easy to please. I like that.” He brought you back to the dance floor, pulling you to himself. “I love you,” he repeated, wondering if you’d heard him correctly the first time, because this was all too good to be true.

“I love you too,” you assured him before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Is it too forward of me to ask how long we have to stay out here?” he purred in your ear. “Because I’d really like to take you back to our room and continue what you started last night.”

Even though you rolled your eyes and gave him a little shove, the blush on your cheeks and sparkle in your eye promised Roy he wouldn’t have to wait long.

#roy kent playing pretend #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction

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acourtofmenandthirst · 1 year

Text

Then Go (Part II of II)

Cassian x Reader, in which Cassian leaves the Night Court to be with you. I don't think you guys are expecting this ending lol but it was pretty fun to write, not reflective of my thoughts on Tamlin's redemption arc ;) @azsazz came up with the ending (surprise surprise lol)

Part I here!

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: fighting (forgive the fight scene ok I hate those), character death

The flight back to Spring was tense.

You and Cassian had only ever had a few arguments over the past couple years - petty squabbles, pointless arguments, superficial bickering - the two of you never had anything to truly fight about. Not that you were fighting, really, but he hadn’t spoken more than six sentences - fragments - in the past few hours.

Even when you two had been at odds, Cassian never shied away; in fact, the male became even more vocal, if that was even possible, always voicing his thoughts and opinions, quipping at you with smartass remarks or snarky comments.

But he hadn’t been speaking; it was… new to you. He came back to his bedchamber utterly beat. And you felt bad, deciding while he was gone talking to Rhys that you’d still pretend you were mad when he came back, sitting back against the headboard with your arms crossed over your chest, just as he left you - you’d let him make it up to you, make you forget all about his friends’ behavior. It was selfish of you, you realized, but Cassian would have been all too eager.

Despite the minimal experience you’d had living with the mating bond, you knew immediately that something was wrong. Normally you felt butterflies through the bond, a fluttering beat, the warm compassion your mate sent you. You’d felt it gone cold, empty while he trained in the war camps, too afraid that it would be a distraction that could cost him his life, or that others could find out and use it against him - or you.

You’d never been in a fight, never served in the war - not like he had, protecting his friends, family, even mere strangers. You didn’t bear scars - not in the way he did, marking up each limb, mangled gashes that lingered over his neck and face, adorned every inch of his wings. He was a male that sacrificed far more than you ever thought possible, and had been on the brink of death too many times to count (too many times than you felt comfortable with, honestly).

But the pain you’d felt that evening in the Night Court - it was the closest thing you could imagine to that pain, to the pain of being torn apart and your corpse cast aside. You felt your heart breaking, the string pulling so hard you thought you might throw up right on the bed.

He needed help.

You couldn’t even clamber to your feet fast enough as he appeared in the doorway, silent - so quiet that even the spymaster himself would have been proud. Barely any words were spoken, just a hauntingly sad glance exchanged between the two of you. It would have been better off if he hadn’t said anything at all. His voice sliced through the air, despite how quiet his words were. His voice was gruff, throat horse - not like the groggy Cassian, tired and not ready to wake up, it wasn’t the sad Cassian, voice cracking and strained. It must have been anger, the irate side of the male you had yet to see up close. “Let’s go.”

It was all he said, tone clipped and terse, that sent chills down your spine - and through the bond.

You were quick to scramble to your feet, almost afraid to approach the male in his livid state. He appeared calm, arms stiff at his sides, but seething, chest rising and falling steadily, forced. Cassian was seeing red; he himself didn’t even know he had that amount of self restraint.

And you’d felt bad - he’d wanted to introduce you to his friends - his family - since virtually the first day you met.

So you weren’t fighting, but you felt guilty for letting him take you to Night. It was a fear you didn’t share with the male - not fully really.

“What if they don’t like me?” What if they don’t like where I come from?

Cassian brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “They’ll love you as I do, (Y/N).” His voice was nothing above a whisper, no hesitation, no doubt, no fear behind his reply.

You had a feeling they wouldn’t approve of your Spring heritage - hell, the prejudice of the Night Court Fae ran high in Spring, too. Many of the goers in your own home court didn’t like the fact an Illyrian soldier lingered in their court - you surely figured the Night Court would feel the same about you. It didn’t matter to any of them - Spring or Night - that the two of you were fated mates. He hadn’t cared about those strangers in Spring who passed him on the street - but you didn’t have an Inner Circle like his: friends and family that would protect him at any cost, even if that meant leaving his mate.

Cassian chose you, though. Despite the faux protection Rhysand and Feyre offered him - they left him with the sour options. They were prepared for him to leave, they knew he would; otherwise, they wouldn’t have given him the choice.

And you didn’t dare say those words, the ones you knew Cassian was waiting for you to utter: I told you so.

That would hurt too much.

You didn’t want to be right. Never in any world would you have wished this pain on your mate - the same pain he’d gone through however many years ago when his mother died, when he was teased endlessly in the camps about being a bastard.

And hundreds of years later, he found himself in the same position: outcast, ostracized by his so-called family.

The only thing that kept him sane was you - clinging to him for dear life as he raced through the courts back to Spring. You didn’t question him, but he knew you quietly understood what had happened between him and the High Lord and High Lady of his home court. He felt your panic through the bond once he’d left that conversation, answering the royalty of the court by turning on his heel and leaving.

Nobody had tried to stop him, either.

Rhys and Feyre did not protest as the male made his way from the room. Not a peep from Morrigan or the other Archeron sisters, who were no doubt listening from the doorway. Cassian felt Lucien lingering, though, Cassian supposed he would be the one male who understood. Amren was nowhere to be seen, Azriel missing as well.

But a shadow swirled around Cassian’s ankle as he ascended the stairs back to his bedroom, a silent promise from his brother that he’d be visiting soon.

Cassian had often been jealous of both of his brothers’ winnowing abilities - he hadn’t felt that way since he was a young male. But he had wished for nothing more in that moment, so he didn’t have to tread down the long halls with his tail tucked between his legs, a hound kicked out of his home.

He landed not-so-gracefully at your front door, knees buckling as he staggered forward, trying his damndest to protect you from the force of impact. The dirt from the street kicked up around you, the dark muck swirling around you - Cassian wished it’d swallow him whole.

He didn’t know what to do. His younger self wanted to fly off without a trace, far north of Windhaven or the other Illyrian camps, punishing himself in the cold. He’d pick a fight with the largest tree he could find, punching the thick bark until his knuckles bled and his fingers broke. He’d fly low and fast, so close to the icy river that flecks of freezing water pricked his skin as the waves crashed through the ice shards below him.

But you were there in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around him, probably afraid he’d drop you. He flew so fast - he wasn’t sure he’d ever gone that fast while carrying another Fae in his arms, especially not one with such little flying experience. Your face was pressed tightly against his neck, your nose was cold from the windchill that graced the both of you.

Cassian stood there, frozen, right in the middle of the village. He didn’t move - he didn’t know how to move; didn’t know where he should go, what he should do. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips against the frigid skin of his neck that he snapped out of his trance, clutching at you harder, fingers grasping the thick material of your dress. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the crown of your head.

Hundreds of years of friendship, thousands of battles fought together, millions of fights picked with each other. All traded in for a female he knew for almost just a decade.

A decade he’d spent the better part of keeping you a secret from his family.

Perhaps on some level he expected this, knew how they would treat you.

Not that he doubted you - he hadn’t questioned your love for him, your dedication, your willingness to do the same for him. He didn’t question or curse the Mother, not when she gave him a lovely Spring female.

Gods, he just felt so weird.

Starting from scratch again.

____________________________________

Cassian had to find something to busy himself with.

He no longer had to tend to the Illyrian camps, no training with the Valkyries or battle strategies to hound over.

But old habits die hard - he woke before the sun everyday, utterly exhausted. He wasn’t sleeping well, just reliving that terrible night in his head over and over - what he could have said differently, if he’d made the right choice.

Of course, he’d made the right choice. Choosing you over those who were so ready to cast him out. He just regretted walking out the door without slamming his fist into his brother’s nose.

Cassian suppressed a haggard sigh, shifting in bed to roll you off his chest. Your brows crinkled in confusion, discomfort at the slight change of position. You nuzzled your face into the fluffy pillow, falling back asleep before your mate pressed a soft kiss behind your ear. Cassian eased himself quietly off the bed, twisting and cracking his spine as he flexed his wings in the small room.

Cassian loved your apartment. Quaint, cozy, warm - he’d never truly had a home. Not a house of his own, just staying at his brother’s houses. His mother’s house was burned to the ground when he’d returned for her - he didn’t have many memories of her or the home, but he imagined it would be much like yours: riddled with blankets, too small for his wings to sit upright on his back, a small fire that could somehow warm every room. You’d even gotten rid of most of your blooming plants, opting for just the lush green ones, as the pollen had him waking up with itchy eyes and a runny nose.

He smiled softly as you reached for the pillow beside you, the other half of the bed still warm from where he laid with you. But he’d spend the morning training in the Spring forest, and would return home before you woke.

He donned his Illyrian leathers - despite many attempts to leave them behind, he couldn’t find anything as comfortable to train in. No clothes could carry as many weapons, couldn’t keep him warm as he flew laps around the court. By the time he fully dressed and was out the door, the sun was already peeking through the town, orange light shining at the end of the street as Cassian took off in a run, sprinting through the town and making his way to the woods.

He relished the time he could be alone, where the village was empty and there were no strangers, no Fae staring nor children pointing at his wings. Normally, the male was confident enough to push pass that all, or nicely answer questions when they stopped him in the street. You were always hanging on his arm, speaking kindly with your neighbors. Many of them were nice - simply interested in the foreign male - but there were a few that threw glares, and a couple territorial males that growled at him as they passed by.

But that’s why Cassian kept training - just in case. That, and he was a restless male.

He wove through the trees, pulling his heavy sword from where it laid snugly between his wings, and slashed at the drooping branches and thick vines. His wings unfurled behind him, dragging against the wind as they slowed him. They ached, spent too long curled up underneath him as he slept last night, they hung off the bed haphazardly on the other nights. Cassian smiled to himself, imagining a home the two of you could build together - big enough for him, cozy enough for you to fill with those green plants and comfy furniture.

Cassian spent the morning throwing rocks and doing push-ups, climbing the rope-like vines and practicing his knife-throwing. He’d had half a mind to fashion himself an Illyrian bow - carve it from the thick bark of a healthy tree, strong enough to send the arrow even as far as the Night Court.

He pulled his thick dark hair behind his head, tying the sweaty strands back with one of his leather bands. His ear twitched when he heard the rustling of the trees behind him. His wings shot up immediately, perked up behind him ready for a fight. The sun was almost fully up, rays of light shining through the tall trees. But the brush was dense, he couldn’t quite make out what was making the noise.

“Azriel?” He called, stepping closer to the line of trees. His brother had a tendency to play tricks on him, attack him where he was least expecting.

But he knew Azriel would have been silent.

Cassian didn’t know what lingered in the Spring forest, the small and large creatures that lived amongst the flora. There was no answer, not even the continued rustling of leaves and dry sticks. The male’s eyes traced the outline of the thicket, unable to make out any threat. With a huff he stretched his wings and took to the skies, circling around the woods to cool off before he headed home.

He pushed himself into the bedroom as you were just waking up, stretching in bed when he caught your eye. You smiled, the bond in your chest unfurling with warmth as he approached the bed. He bent over the mattress, offering you a kiss in greeting. You hummed a reply, curling your arms around his neck, trying to pull him back to bed.

Cassian chuckled, hoisting you up instead. “Let me at least bathe before I take you in the bed,” he whispered against your lips, tucking an arm underneath your legs and holding you close to his chest.

You smiled, nuzzling your neck against his dewy skin. “You do smell,” you mumbled, arms circling around his neck. “But I don’t care.” You pecked his cheek. “I don’t like waking up without you.”

Your mate huffed, kicking open the bathing room door. “You’re more than welcome to come train with me.” He set you on your feet and cupped your face, holding your jaw in his palms. You rose on your tiptoes, letting the male press a firm kiss to your lips.

Your hands encircled his wrists, holding him still as you met him in the middle. “Then I’d smell just as bad as you - plus I need my rest. Besides, you always manage to find other ways to tire me out, after all.”

Cassian smiled, showing all his teeth. Nothing but pure adoration lacing his features.

He found that each morning he saw your face shining in the rays of light peeking through your small bathroom window, the pain of leaving his court lessened each day. The bond in his chest was stronger than ever, constantly humming with activity and bursting with love.

The two of you bathed each other, something that had become part of your sacred morning ritual. You shut your eyes and leaned your head back as he washed your hair, his fingertips running over the sensitive part of your scalp behind your ears. You washed his back and wings, paying special attention to where he’d always somehow managed to cake mud at the base of the wing where it stemmed from his back.

You’d waited until you were mated - you’d picked up on the fact that despite their size, they were quite private. Always held high and proud, you admired them from a distance, afraid to even run your finger along the wide bone that stemmed from Cassian’s thick muscled back. It was months after you’d officially mated in secret - even after you’d rode through the frenzy. Cassian took your hand in his and traced everywhere he liked to be touched. So strange, having never even seen a male with wings, then to be mated to one. You didn’t know where to begin.

The more time Cassian spent frequenting your small home in Spring, the more comfortable you grew with the wide leathery wings. You’d explored what made him tick - where to touch him to make him cum, how to oil the leather, how to properly wash them, which of his muscles were sore after a long flight, how to relieve the tension. Cassian eventually had trouble falling asleep in his home court, without your fingers mindlessly tracing patterns against the soft flesh.

After your bath, your mate wrapped you in a plush robe, dressing himself in the soft sweater you’d gotten him as a birthday gift last year - a Spring evergreen color that brought out his eyes. You’d even taken one of his knives and sliced wing holes through the back and sewed buttons along the bottom. It was haphazard, not as precisely done as the thick ones he donned from the Illyrian Mountains. But he assured you that he loved it nonetheless.

“Some tea, dear?” You asked, already filling the kettle for more than enough for two cups.

He nodded in response, already slicing up the bread for breakfast. Cassian had a habit of preparing himself a cooking-snack, already digging into a plate of bread with jam and cheese as the eggs cooked on the stove. You weren’t sure he had a favorite meal of the day - every time he ate was damn near a feast.

Though, you supposed you couldn’t complain. Your home was always stocked to the brim with fresh pastries, breads, the finest roasts, and more potatoes than you could count.

You wouldn’t complain about his size, either.

Cassian sneezed as soon as you opened the kitchen window, a small breeze blowing through the house. He rolled his shoulders back and continued to stuff a slice of cheese in his mouth before tending to the eggs.

Your shoulders shook with a flinch as you heard a firm knock on the door, followed by what sounded like a kick.

Cassian watched you, pausing mid-chew as his eyes flitted between you and the door. You held your hand up at him, stopping him in his tracks as he already started moving towards the living room. “Let me see.” Your mate cocked a brow, wiping his hands at his pants. But Cassian nodded, watching you stalk to the door.

It wouldn’t be uncommon for your neighbors to visit, to bring you some extra pastries or flowers, to stop by for a chat or ask to borrow some flour. You were fairly certain some of the younger females came by to ogle at your mate, especially for a chance to see him when he’d cook shirtless. It never failed to make him blush and scramble for something - anything - to cover up with.

But that morning, you didn’t expect to open the door and come face-to-face with the High Lord.

His eyes were narrowed, jaw set and filling the frame of the door. His hands were balled into fists at his side, knuckles white in strain. Tamlin’s blond hair was long past his shoulders, where he normally kept it trimmed and tame, it was unruly, jagged edges frayed and burnt.

Your heart stopped in your chest, stricken with fear when you met those piercing green eyes. Purple half circles laced his under eyes, dark marks carved into his high cheekbones. The white shirt he wore was frayed, dirtied, and hung loose on his frame. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not to search around your living room, not to Cassian who’d no doubt drawn his knives in the kitchen. Tamlin’s voice was like gravel. “I can smell him.”

“High Lord, sir - I - ” You stuttered a response, offering him a half-assed curtsey. Your hands shook as you grabbed at your robe, pulling it tighter around yourself.

Despite how much you’d wanted to defend him after your stint in the Night Court, you’d never actually met the male - never seen him up close, even. But he stood - absolutely raging - at your front door and you were shocked.

You felt the heat of a familiar Illyrian approaching behind you, his wings splayed out for intimidation - for preparation, you thought, unsure of what fight was about to unfold at your front door. “You’re not welcome in my court.” Tamlin’s eyes flicked upwards, above your head, surely meeting where Cassian stood at your back.

“She’s my mate,” Cassian began, gruffly but level. Not looking for a fight. “Where she goes, I go.”

Tamlin didn’t flinch. “She’s of the Spring Court - she’s mine.”

You took a step away from the High Lord, right into the brick wall that was Cassian’s chest. His arms landed on your arms, warm hands wrapping around your shoulders. He held you firmly in front of him, against him - your heartbeats synced. Cassian’s calmness flooded through the bond, the peace before battle; alert, but ready. Ready to throw you out of the way should he so need to.

“She’s not yours, not even because she’s Spring.” Cassian’s grip tightened as he leveled the High Lord in front of you; the one you’d dared to defend in front of his own High Lord and High Lady - of his previous court, he supposed. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.” He took a deep breath, one in which would allow him to force the next words out of him: “I am seeking refuge.”

To which Tamlin almost let out a huff of air - humor in his eyes. “Refuge,” he tested the word, grimacing at the bitter taste. “What do you know of refuge? And what about it in my court?” Tamlin drew his shoulders back. “You aided that bitch in destroying my - ”

Cassian ushered you out of the way, leaving you stumbling a few steps off in the living room as he approached the High Lord. “What you did to your own court - ”

Then Tamlin lunged.

He drew his claws, sharp and jagged, aimed directly at Cassian’s face. But the Illyrian was too quick, drawing a hidden knife from his pants.

You squinted - how he managed to hide that in his linen pants -

Cassian’s wings splayed out behind him, balancing the male as he stepped backwards and threw the High Lord off of him, angling the blade between them, right under Tamlin’s jaw.

Tamlin pushed himself up on all fours - to be fair, you’d never seen his wolf form, only heard stories and rumors about the shifter male, but gods he was already animalistic enough. He jumped at Cassian again, who stumbled backwards through the doorway, and between Tamlins punches, he raised the knife upward, aiming right for his side.

The High Lord squirmed away, the blade only narrowly meeting his skin. “Get away from me if you know what’s good for you,” Cassian growled, wings bent against the wooden boards of your front porch. You yelped, hands coming up to cover your mouth as you watched with wide eyes, the two males grappling and hitting each other before you.

“Get out of my court,” Tamlin barked, reaching for Cassian’s throat.

His claws never met your mate, Cassian had grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the side, awkwardly angling Tamlin’s arms, which only infuriated him further. “You’re out of practice,” Cassian spat. “Your court is a wreck.” Tamlin kicked his legs, scrambling to pull himself from his captor. Cassian kneed him in the gut, earning a cough from the shifter. “And you fight like a bitch.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, snapping at Cass. He reached for the blade tucked into his boot, to which Cassian kicked the male off him, onto the street below. Tamlin grabbed the blade and slashed, slicing through your mate’s sweater. Cassian returned the gesture, slicing at his chest, to which he drew blood from the High Lord.

Cassian took a step back, admiring his warning cut, flaring his wings behind him. The dirt spurred around the males at the flap of his wings. He’d take to the air if that wouldn’t give him the unfair advantage. But the High Lord wouldn’t quit, he threw his knife straight for your mate.

The blade landed only in his shoulder, though, nothing the Lord of Bloodshed hadn’t dealt with before. And as Tamlin jumped for the Illyrian one last time, Cassian had no choice but to pull the knife from his wound and hold it straight before him, right to where Tamlin had thrown himself.

The knife was sharp, he had to hand it to Tamlin. It sank easily into him, into that stone cold heart he’d heard so much about.

The High Lord’s hands didn’t even grasp his shoulders as he slumped before the warrior, body sagging before him at his feet.

You felt the bond quiver, the utter shock Cassian felt at the action. You were frozen in the doorway, beyond belief with how quickly that escalated - you couldn’t even process it.

Neither could your mate.

Cassian stood over the blond male, laying bloody and limp on the dirt road before him.

It wasn’t the first male he’d killed.

It surely wouldn’t be the last.

He felt your arms around him, you’d flung yourself to his side. You wove your arms around his chest, burying your face into the crook of his arm. Your racing heart leached through the bond, racing at a pace similar to his own. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fallen High Lord - the one who he had killed.

He clutched at your back, fisting the plushy robe as he dropped to his knees. His chest constricted as if his lungs collapsed,

A panic attack, his mind was reeling, his heart beating so fast he was sure he’d choke on his own blood surging through his veins. What a fucking perfect time. He’d come to terms with his role many centuries ago - warlord, killing for the goodness of others.

He’d just killed Tamlin.

His body felt heavy, the weight on his shoulders suddenly soul crushing.

Cassian raised his head as your hands clutched his shoulders. His heart hammered in his chest. His eyes raised from Tamlin’s cold body, but not to you - to everyone else. The neighbors had trickled out of their homes, standing along the sidewalk and in the grass. Some with their jaws agape, others holding onto their loved ones, a few crying, even fewer smiling.

Your mate watched as one by one, they bowed.

Tamlin had no kin. No family left, no lineage, no appointed heir from the Mother.

Cassian had become High Lord of the Spring Court.

“Fuck.”

____________________________________

You took Cassian to the Spring Court estate a few days later. His shoulder had healed in the meantime, which gave him the time to convince him to settle into his new role. It took a lot of initial processing, plenty of overthinking, and many hours spent pacing around your small cottage. The male was in utter disbelief - “is this even possible?” “I don’t want to be High Lord.” “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

He was confused… scared, even, you could see it.

Shit, it would be a lie to say you weren’t.

But all you could do was take it one step at a time. The Mother chose this path for him, and he had no other choice but to accept it.

You walked hand in hand through the destroyed estate, the fallen walls and piles of stones along the floor. The furniture had molded, what with the rain that fell through the holes in the ceiling, your footsteps didn’t even make an echo with how much debris lay around the halls. Creatures skitted through the rooms, slithering and burrowing between piles of rocks and destroyed foliage. Just a testament to how much there was to rebuild.

“What do I know about being High Lord?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What did Feyre know about becoming High Lady? She couldn’t even read.”

Cassian gave you a flat look. “She’s still my friend, you know.”

“Is she?” You challenged his gaze. “She and her mate kicked you out of your court - your home -”

“They didn’t kick me out.” Cassian stopped in his tracks, holding up his hand to correct you - and you arched a brow at him. “I left.” You pressed your lips together. “I want to build my home here, with you.”

You smiled, stepping close enough to him that your elbows brushed against his sternum. “You’re not saying that because you have to, right? Now that you’re stuck here with me?” You couldn’t hide your teasing smile.

Cassian smiled behind a breathy laugh, the first genuine one you’d heard in about a week. “Not because I have to.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, curling an arm around you as you two continued roaming the ruins of what you supposed would be your new home.

“Are you going to talk to them?”

He knew exactly who you were talking about. But he only offered a shrug. “I guess I have to, huh?”

“You don’t have to… I’m not really sure how all this works.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You wished you had better answers, you wished you could comfort your mate with the truth. But you didn’t know what would happen, you didn’t know the first thing about court royalty.

You hadn’t heard anything from the Night Court, uncharacteristic, you thought, considering their constant meddling in the past. Lucien had sent word to Cassian, the second day after the Spring Court title had shifted, offering himself as emissary to the Night Court. Nothing much from Autumn, nor Winter. Helion, of course, sent congratulations along with an invitation for dinner and more - he was pleased his ‘good friend’ Cassian had joined their club.

Cassian felt the air shift, the cold that washed over him as a dark misty shadow curled around his ankle. He peered over his shoulder, meeting the cobalt siphons behind him.

You eyed the other Illyrian, offering him a nod of your head in greeting. He mirrored the gesture.

“I’m going to the gallery,” you offered, turning from Cassian and his brother, quietly making your way down the hall. Cassian sent a strum through the bond, thanking you, and offering a promise that he’d join you momentarily.

“High Lord?” Azriel teased once you’d disappeared down the corridor, offering a mock bow to his brother.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

Az shrugged. “I have eyes everywhere. Not specifically on you.” Cassian smiled. “I’ve seen far too much of you in my lifetime.”

“Did Rhysand send you?”

Azriel shook his head. “He doesn’t know I’m here.” But as his brother was uncharacteristically quiet, the Shadowsinger continued. “Trading in Lord of Bloodshed for High Lord of Spring then?”

Cassian rolled his eyes and punched him in the shoulder, a bit too hard. “I think I prefer the first one,” he grumbled.

Azriel eyed his brother, watching how he gnawed on his lower lip and how his hazel eyes flitted around the room. “You’ll be fine, Cassian. You’ve won too many wars to count and led how many soldiers into battle?” Az clapped a hand on his back. “You weren’t General of the Night Court Armies for nothing… consider this a promotion.”

Cassian rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Yeah well I suppose I’ll be meeting with my colleagues soon enough.” The dread dripped off his voice. He scratched the back of his head, running his hands through his tangled black hair. “I suppose I’ll be needing a shadowsinger, if you’re interested in warmer weather and a bit more sunshine.”

Azriel smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind, brother.” With a ruffle of his wings, Az prepared himself to winnow out. Cassian was sure Rhysand would have his head if he found out he spent too long in the Spring Court - or with him. “Good luck.”

Cassian bid Azriel goodbye and made his way through the estate halls, kicking the crumbled stones and stepping harshly over the broken glass. He watched the dust pool up in the corners as he wandered the corridor, crossing into the gallery. His eyes washed over the shredded canvas, greens, purples, blues - no red. He recognized Feyre’s art - he’d seen enough of it throughout the River House… and the Town House and the House of Wind.

All of her works were ripped up, clawed through until there was nothing but colorful cloth strewn about the marble floor. The art that remained hung on the walls showed the expanses of the Spring forests, sparkling lakes, and vast meadows. Perhaps one day Cassian would make it out to explore the landscape.

He found you in the corner of the gallery, where the windows had been broken out and the forest started growing in. The vines and trees crawled through the room, ivy growing along the stone walls and bright flowers blooming in the shrubbery. He rubbed the tears away from the corner of his eye before approaching you.

“I know it’s not much,” you sighed, gazing up at the painting of the orange poppy fields that hung high on the wall. “But it’s Spring…” You felt Cassian wrap his arms around your waist, holding you tightly, back pressed against his chest. Your fingers trailed over his forearms, tracing over the rigid muscle before burying his hands in yours. “It’s home.”

“It’s my home, too. The Illyrian Steppes are too cold anyway.” He nuzzled his nose into your neck, pressing a kiss to your pulse point.

“We’ll have to do something about your allergies, though.”

He groaned. “I don’t have allergies.”

“My whole neck is covered in your drippings.”

Cassian wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “There’s nothing coming out of my nose - I don't know what you’re talking about.” You twisted in his grasp, wrapping your arms around his large waist. He shrugged his wings, blinking a few times to clear the fog from his itchy eyes.

Damn the Spring Court. It couldn’t have been the Summer or Dawn Court?

He had to be the High Lord of a court he was godsdamned allergic to.

#cassian #acotar #cassian x you #cassian/you #cassian x reader #cassian/reader #acosf #fanfiction

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sanjisboyfie · 7 months

Text

๑ keep safe : the dogs are hounding on [name] (18)

one piece x male reader

i nearly killed somebody,

don't you mind? don't you mind?

i gave you something you can never give back,

don't you mind?

『 prev 』

they just narrowly escaped the marines that were chasing them, but were still on the run in case they caught up. if you add on the emotional distress the entire situation caused the straw hats, then they were all beyond exhausted.

thankfully, as they were running through the town, chopper had picked up on their scent. and now he was riding on top of a giant crab. [name] didn’t know where he got it from, but he was going to be thankful either way. his eyes turned into stars as he realized that it was a crab…something edible.

”sanji, sanji, do you think we can eat him later?” the question was enough to make the chef hum in thought and chopper’s jaw drop in astonishment.

“don’t eat him! he’s helping us!”

“i meant after he was done helping us, i’m hungry, that’s all,” [name] said, trying to justify his question to the young reindeer. but chopper wasn’t hearing him out at all. simply muttering under his breath how heartless and food driven [name] was.

“[name]’s right, it looks real yummy,” luffy said, also salivating to the thought of eating the crab.

just as [name] began to laugh and relax as they were getting away, vivi’s screams echoed in the air. he whipped his head around, searching for what she had begun yelling about. and when he saw that she was starting to get whisked away by a hook, he cursed under his breath.

him and luffy acted first, but zoro held [name] back. the man fought against his grip, but then realized why he was stopped. zoro recognized the fact luffy was able to stretch and switch places with vivi whereas [name] wouldn’t have been able to really do anything.

so he watched as luffy selflessly replaced vivi’s position and threw the princess back at the crab. [name] caught her, but his eyes were still trained on luffy. he held his hand out, shouting, “come on, luffy! grab on!!”

“no! i’m gonna beat this guy’s ass!” luffy shouted defiantly, making [name] grit his teeth, “make sure you deliver vivi back to her home!!!”

[name] wanted to chase after luffy, but the sure smile that his captain had on his face made him stop himself. [name] restrained vivi, holding her tight as she desperately tried reaching for luffy as well.

luffy’s eyes were trained on [name] the entire time, smile so wide that his pearly whites were visible to [name] despite being so far. as if he was trying to show to [name] he’d be fine.

“luffy!!” [name] shouted, the veins in his neck protruding, “you deal with him and then you come right back, okay?! no fucking around!!!”

“of course!” luffy answered within seconds, as if he anticipated it — like he knew a warning from [name] was coming. [name]’s threatening tone only made his smile grow wider. and when [name] heard his reply, he slumped down where he sat and tried to make himself feel satisfied with the answer.

no matter who the opponent was, even if they were stronger, luffy would find his way back to the rest of his crew. [name] assured himself of that fact, thinking of all the times luffy went and did something stupid like this when they were children. he’d always emerge with new wounds, but at least he came home.

“that idiot,” [name] said under his breath. his arms were still flexed around vivi and caging her in, so she wouldn’t go to luffy.

“once the royal army and the rebel army meet, this land, will be done for. this country’s only hope, vivi, is you! if anything, you’re the only one that matters right now, you have to survive. no matter what might happen to any us, from now on!” zoro tried easing vivi’s worries, reminding her of her duties as princess. she couldn’t spend her time thinking of luffy when she had a whole country to save.

sanji smirked, walking ahead and standing towards the head of the crab, “vivi-chan, you might have started this fight, the one who challenged this unknwonn organization, all on your own. however, don’t go around thinking that you’re fighting this alone now.”

in comparison to sanji and zoro’s very confident tones, usopp spoke up in a shaky tone, “d-d-d-don’t worry, vivi!!! captain u-usopp will take care of everything!!”

[name] stifled his laughter, hiding his grin behind the hand that was resting on his forehead. vivi, who was still in his arms, turned her head back to luffy and shouted out to him, “luffy-san!! we will be waiting for you in alubarna, okay?!”

luffy’s laughter echoed in the air, “yeah!!”

[name] held her in his arms, feeling her body shake. he rubbed up and down her back, trying to ease her worries, before standing up. she looked at him in confusion, but he could only grin back at her.

“if luffy says he’s gonna beat crocodile’s ass, he’s gonna do it.” [name] said simply, turning around and sitting next to chopper instead. if he was going to kill time, he wanted to be cuddled up with the fluffy crewmate instead. maybe he’d even be able to catch some sleep.

and with chopper as his pillow, anything was possible. so he shut his eyes and soon fell into slumber. nami looked at [name] in annoyance, wondering how he could be so calm when something so stressful was happening.

the rest of the crew began to think of how to plan for their entrance to alubarna. as they talked, they allowed [name] to rest, although zoro did want to hit him awake several times.

he somehow slept through the carb travelling through the water, until he was completely submerged in it.

“what? is it still night?” he asked, swiping his wet hair out from his face. the crew gave him an incredulous look, which he ignored, and he just yawned into his hand. “why are we swimming?”

just as the crew were all going to collectively yell at him for being so absent, they were all rushing forward with the speed of a boat. [name] blinked lazily as his hand was making motions underwater. in seconds, the crew had reached the shore.

[name] stretched once they reached land and looked at the crew, “well? let’s get going then, since you guys are in such a rush,” a flurry of insults were thrown his way, colorful language used in each one, but he just turned his back to them, “i was sleepy, you can’t blame me,”

“just shut up!!” nami shouted, bonking him in the head.

“wait, no i hear something,” [name] said, ignoring the shouting woman, which only aggravated her even more.

everyone turned and saw that there was actually something approaching. it started as a dust cloud, but as they got closer, vivi was able to make out what it was.

“that’s karoo!! and the supersonic duck squadron!”

[name] bursted out laughing, “what the fuck is that?!” his howling laughter was heard throughout the desert and he only stopped once the supersonic duck squadron were in front of them.

“well, now we just need a plan,” zoro smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“and you’re capable of doing that…right…” [name] said under his breath, voice trailing off as his expression showed that he didn’t think zoro would even be able to think of a plan. his comment made usopp and chopper hold back their giggles.

“i’ll cut you up! seriously!” zoro threatened, the shine of his blade glinting in the moonlight.

“jokes, jokes!” [name] said, but zoro definitely wasn’t convinced.

“let’s get back on track,” nami spoke in a deathly calm voice, “zoro’s right, we do need a plan and [name]’s right, zoro definitely shouldn’t be the one to form said plan,”

zoro’s forehead was littered with angry tick marks.

“alright then this is how it’ll go,” nami said, making everyone gather around her in a circle. she spoke with confidence, laying out the plan she had been thinking of to the rest of her crewmates.

in the end, it was decided that they’d all pretend to be vivi to throw off the awaiting baroque works members. all except for the actual princess and [name]. those two would wait out the distraction ploy, then charge in on their own ducks to go straight to the royal palace.

now everyone was wearing identical white robes over their regular clothing, covering the bottom half of their face for extra protection. [name] grinned in excitement, eager to start and end this long awaited fight. with him acting as vivi’s protector, though, he still had to play it smart.

he couldn’t get too eager or else she might get injured. and that was definitely the last thing anyone wanted.

“if she comes back with the littlest of bruises, [name], so help me-”

“i get it, i get it,” [name] sighed, rubbing his forehead at sanji’s nagging.

“do you?! this is vivi-chan’s life at stake, be on your best game in protecting her — even if it means risking you life!!” sanji shouted, showing his obvious favoritism towards vivi.

fake crocodile tears streamed down [name]’s face, “after all we’d been through sanji, i’d hope you’d be more concerned for me,” he whined, weakly punching the blonde in the chest.

the chef rolled his eyes, turning away and hopping onto his own speedy duck. [name] wished all of them good luck, climbing onto the back of karoo, with vivi in front and steering. he shot them a wide grin and thumbs up.

“you got this, everyone!! beat their asses!” [name] cheered, earning shouts of agreement, and fear, in return. and in a second, they were all racing off, leaving [name] and vivi in the dust.

then the h/c haired male held onto vivi’s waist, the princess directing them to a completely different entrance way to the capital. karoo was running as fast as he could, quacking every now and then. eventually, they had reached a completely different side of the kingdom. karoo ran right in front of the entrance, to properly stop the rebel army from entering.

[name] hopped off first and then assisted vivi, sighing as he could feel the trembling off the sand beneath their feet. there were so many soldiers that were coming. his glare hardened when he saw them all having their weapons raised, ready to draw blood.

[name] took a seat, propping his arm up on his knee as he waited for vivi to start her intervention.

in his mind, trying to project your voice towards an entire brigade of soldiers was useless. there’d be no way they could hear her over their trampling steps, even if they did, there was little chance that they’d actually be able to stop for her.

[name] squinted at the crowd, lowly whistling when he saw how many of them were charging. he sighed, standing up and holding his hand out.

no matter how stupid he thought it was or how pointless it all seemed, there’s no way he’d let vivi be trampled by all these people. and if they weren’t going to even stop to listen to her, then he’d force them to.

his hand was outstretched, palm facing the people. and his face was stoic as he concentrated as hard as he could in stopping the swarm. just when he thought his focus was completely locked in, a sudden bang and cloud of smoke cut him off.

he grit his teeth, looking up at the royal army who had just fired a canonball into the charging army. he cursed in his head, “those bastards, i had them!!”

but trying to refocus and stop them all now, with how close they were, it was useless. so he thought fast, “sorry, karoo!!” he shouted right before he tossed the bird up into the air, “i hope you can fly!”

just as vivi was about to shout at him, he tackled her down to the ground. his elbows were propped up on either side of her head, his legs completely covering her own as his torso shadowed over her face.

“don’t look so scared, princess,” he grinned, keeping his arms flexed and strong so that his positioning wouldn’t falter at all. “i won’t allow you to get hurt, not now, not ever!”

she looked up at him in fear, the sound of the stampede’s footsteps echoing in her ears. the ground beneath them was shaking violently now more than it ever was before. and when her wide blown eyes stared back at him, she couldn’t believe how he could so calmly smile at her.

and then it happened. all the hooves of the camels were beating down into [name]’s back, making him grunt at the pain. he bit his lip, hard, to suffocate any sounds that were threatening to come out.

vivi grabbed onto his robes, trying to push him off of her as he was taking the blunt force of all their steps. but he didn’t budge. not even when she began beating on his chest and crying for him to move out of the way, he stayed completely still. it was as if his body was glued to the ground and was rooted there like a tree.

it felt like hours, for [name]. the pain of their hooves breaking into his skin, the repeated actions. it really did hurt. but he couldn’t move, he wouldn’t allow himself to. vivi was right underneath him and if he moved even an inch over, she’d get hurt.

so he smiled through the pain, laughing almost as he saw the concern etched so obviously across vivi’s features. and when the crowd eventually passed over, he collapsed next to her, the smile still plastered on his face.

“that’s a pretty big army,” he breathed out, coughing blood onto the sand next to his hand, “man, i really hope karoo can fly,”

“[name]!” she cried out, rushing to his side and moving her hands to his face, “don’t worry about karoo, you-your back has-”

“i’m fine,” he grunted, waving his hand, “are you alright?”

“of course, i’m fine!” she shouted at him, her worry turning into anger, “why?! why did you do that?!”

[name] began laughing, putting his hand on his stomach — to ease the pain but also because it was that hilarious to him.

“why? to protect you, obviously,”

her eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head to rid herself of them, “will you be alri-”

“don’t even ask, that wasn’t even anything,” he said, sitting upright, “i’ve been through worse and i’ll go through worse if it means you’ll stay safe. now, let’s focus on getting to the palace. where’s karoo?”

vivi remained silently, her hands clenched in her lap at [name]’s selfless statement. “i’ll go through worse” he said so confidently and casually. it echoed in her mind. and all she could think about was how quick this war needed to be finished.

she couldn’t just keep allowing the straw hat crew to take care of her messes. luffy sacrificing himself to fight against crocodile, [name] giving up his body in order to protect hers — she’d had enough. enough of being looked out for.

a mighty quack answered that question for him and the duo turned their heads. vivi was knocked out of her daydream when she saw the state karoo was in. his feathers were barely touched by the rampaging swarm of soldiers, his wings were proudly held high in the air, and he was shouting for their attention.

“then, vivi-”

“vivi, [name]!!! this is where you guys are!!”

[name] lifted his head, seeing usopp’s face in the sunlight. he was grinning ear to ear, seemingly happy to have finally met up with the two.

“ah, usopp,” [name] said, in relief, “let me hop on the back of that camel, mighty duck over here needs to be as fast as possible when he takes vivi,”

“usopp-san!” vivi cheered in delight.

“no problem, [name]! let’s go already!” usopp cried in urgency, “vivi, come on! we can’t waste anymore time!”

vivi turned to karoo, nodding her head as if in agreement with usopp. she was about to climb onto her duck, who was eager to get running. her back was turned to usopp and [name], a gentle smile on her face.

she mounted karoo, turning around to [name] and usopp, about to tell them she was ready, but she was instead greeted by the sight of [name] holding his sheathed sword to usopp’s neck. a drastic change in demeanor was surrounding [name].

“so mosshead really wasn’t lying,” [name]’s deep voice drawled, disinterest laced in his tone, “it’s really identical, huh?”

“woah, woah, [name]!! what’s the big deal?!” usopp cried out, kneeling in front of [name] with his hands in the air, “what’s going on?!”

“vivi, ask usopp to show his proof,” [name] spoke, the end of his sword dangerously close to usopp’s nose. testily, he pressed it onto the tip, watching with careful eyes of usopp’s reaction.

and instead of batting [name]’s weapon away and yelling something like, “don’t mess with my nose, bastard,” the man instead stayed completely silent. he didn’t even flinch from [name]’s weapon, simply staying put and maintaining eye contact.

as if that were the right thing to do.

vivi gulped, understanding the situation now. “usopp-san, prove yourself,” she said carefully, watching for his actions.

confidently, the sniper lifted his arm and showed off the bandage, “you doubt me? that’s alright, look!!” he waved it about in the air, making [name] scoff.

“vivi, run! now!!” [name] shouted, swinging his arm back and about to dutifully decapitate the man’s head. but it seemed the imposter had wonderfully fast reflexes as he flipped himself far away from [name]’s deadly weapon.

vivi did as she was told, urging karoo to run ahead and left [name] and the impostor to stand in their dust. [name] didn’t remove his eyes from the man who still had usopp’s face.

“oi! i’m your opponent, take your eyes off of her,” he said, smirking in delight at the idea of being able to freely spill his enemy’s blood, “if you don’t look at me,” he used soru, appearing in front of the man in an instant, “it might cost you your life!”

a finger was jabbed into “usopp’s” side and it caused him to stumble backwards. [name] looked at him in satisfaction, licking his lips as blood began to immediately poor out of the wound.

“ohh, that’s a shame!” usopp said, clutching the hole in his abdomen, “i thought i was pretty spot on,”

finally, the man revealed his true face. it was a man with heavy make up, a ballet outfit on, and a jacket that had swan wings extending outwards. the interesting appearance made [name] tilt his head in interest.

“pretty,” he said offhandedly, effectively catching the man off guard.

��really? you think so?” the man said bashfully, waving his hand at [name] in attempts to win him over.

[name] smirked, dashing forward and punching the man’s legs, making him kneel on the ground. and now that the man was at his hip level, he was able to knee him in the face, “definitely not! idiot!”

the man’s body went flying away. and [name] used that time to run to catch up to vivi and karoo. annoyingly, though, the man he was fighting against was very fast in regaining composure.

he could hear him running closely behind. so [name] turned his body around and stuck out his arm, effectively making the man run into his limb, causing him to flip in the air a couple of times and then fall flat on his face.

“fuck off already!” [name] shouted, trying to slam his fist into the ballerina’s face. in the last second, though, the man moved aside and went to kick [name] in the face. with a look of disgust, [name] easily dodged it and grabbed the man’s shin. a dark look was on his face as he grimaced at the enemy, “you want me to break your leg?”

the ballerina tried gaining control over his leg, but [name] had a tight grip on him. his knuckles were white, his hand shaking in anger, “hm, i don’t think that’s sufficient enough though,” he hummed, genuinely thinking of how to maim the man, “vivi…she’s suffered for so long because of you idiots! you’ve ruined her country,”

[name] twisted the skin of the man’s leg, making him yowl in pain and writhe on the floor. his screams were high pitched, making [name] cringe. he mindlessly threw him away in some direction, as if he were trash.

“i can’t waste my time on lowlives like you,” [name] grinned, seeing the dust cloud that erupted from the body he had just thrown. he turned around when he saw that the man couldn’t get up and ran off towards vivi.

he saw a staircase up to the city, moaning in annoyance as he saw how high it was. he shook his head, pushing forward, reminding himself that after they saved this city, they’d have all the food and water in the world.

so he used soru multiple times, trying to conserve his actual fighting energy into protecting vivi. when he heard the royal guards beginning to yell, going on about how someone was charging at them, but he blocked them out.

“someone capture him!! he’s apart of the rebel army!”

“like hell i am!” [name] shouted in annoyance, punching one of the guards that were charging at him. they slammed down onto the floor at the intensity of the punch, the ground cracking beneath their head.

he looked at the crowd, clicking his tongue once he saw that it was all just a mess. everyone was out for blood and there were bodies laying everywhere. he cursed under his breath.

just as someone else was going to slash his head, he jumped up in the air and kicked their face in. using that as leverage, he jumped off of them and into the air. and the process repeated. he kept kicking up and up into the air, projecting himself forward simply using the air beneath his feet.

some onlookers got distracted mid-fight as they watched the man seemingly “fly” through the sky. their enemies took advantage of that, slicing them down. and [name], who was in the sky was too busy searching for a princess with blue hair, didn't pay any mind to those around him.

which is why he missed the sniper that was hiding out in one of the buildings.

a bullet lodged itself into his abdomen, making him lose focus on his technique and causing him to fall from the sky. he cursed at the inconvenience, putting his hand on his wound and immediately tried to stop blood from overflowing.

his body fell limply to the floor, making him spit out some blood onto the ground beside him.

“the cursed orphan, set sail three years ago from his home— no, from foosha village that he had lived on for the past 7 years before leaving at the age 17. has relations with portgas d. ace and monkey d. luffy. the main caretaker that had watched over you is dadan, apart of the mountain bandits. occasional visits from makino the bartender, as well as the mayor.” the voice drawled out, their shoes clicking against the stone road.

they were in a secluded street, the shouts of the main fight being nothing but background noise.

“you lived on foosha village due to garp sending you there in hopes of you getting a normal childhood, prior to that you were on board the red hair pirates ship, the captain shanks acting as your mentor. that is where you obtained that cloth on your wrist,” a boney finger pointed at the black material on [name]’s wrist, “as well as that sword,”

“you're leaving out a pretty important detail,” [name] grunted, propping himself up on his elbows to glare at the figure, “when the fuck are you gonna get off my back, you dog?!”

“when you’re dead, of course!”

standing above [name], a tall lanky figure wearing all black stood above his bleeding body. he had a sniper rifle strapped to his back and a large dagger resting on his hip. a rigged scar stretched from the bridge of his nose, blinding his right eye, and ending near his skull, the right ear he would’ve had was completely missing. a trench coat that almost touched the ground, combat boots that made an annoying clacking sound every time he stepped anywhere. he was skinny and lanky, standing at least two feet taller than [name].

“if they really want to kill me that badly, they should’ve sent someone worth while,” [name] grunted, letting his hand fall from his bleeding abdomen to push himself off of the ground. “thought i was wanted only alive, though?” the teasing tone in [name]’s voice made the face grimace in front of him.

“special orders, i get to be the one to assassinate you,” he drew the dagger on his side, a sadistic grin on his face. “i’ve been promoted now, there’s been a lot of change since you’ve left us. we’ve got a whole operation squad made to kill you! haha!!”

[name] looked unimpressed, a bored look on his face, “if it gives me more of an excuse to kill you dogs, then i don’t care.”

“remember your place, [name]!! who’s the one with the real control here?!” the voice shouted in anger, not enjoying the way his taunting remarks didn’t affect [name] at all.

“don’t make me laugh, we’re on different levels completely,” [name] smirked, shooting the blood that coated his hands towards the figure, successfully slashing into his cheek. he rushed forward, disarming the man from his dagger immediately, “don’t you remember who used to kick your ass during our training days together?! answer me, kosuke!!”

[name] voice lowered as he pressed himself closer to his assassin, “don’t you remember who’s the one who gave you that ugly scar?”

the sharp dagger pressed into kosuke’s skin, making [name] grin in delight as a marbled drop of crimson fell from the point he pierced, “come on, tell me, i wanna know!!”

“Eradication of Subject 0001: a strictly confidential mission that the World Government hopes to complete with swift professionalism. The goal to publicly execute [REDACTED] D. [name]. Those employed to take on this task are a small group of individuals who are believed to be able to match or out-do the subject’s prowess. The group was hand selected by Admirals Aokiji, Kizaru, and Akainu, as well as input coming from Vice-Admiral Garp.

MISSION IS STRICTLY ON A NEED-TO-KNOW BASIS. INFORMATION LEAKED TO ANYONE OUTSIDE OF THE ALLOWED PERSONNELL WILL BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY.”

the scarred man moved quickly, pushing [name] off of him with enough force that it made [name]’s feet skid on the ground beneath him.

“shut up!!”

“ooh, someone’s angry,” [name] teased, smirking as he saw the man equip himself with his sniper, “say, you should be thanking me,”

[name] abruptly moved his body in different directions to dodge the bullets, “i’m the reason why your aim is so good, aren’t i? permanently shut that eye for you so your other in always in focus, haha!!”

his laughter echoed at the poorly made joke, obviously not taking the fight seriously. this only made kosuke more eager to injure [name], more than he already has.

“just give it up, kosuke, you’re never going to be stronger than me,” [name] grinned, pressing his hand to his wound, “you’re pretty idiotic for even maiming me,”

“i’ll kill you before you even have a chance to-”

[name] hand flicked forward and the blood he had pooled in his palm shot forward and pierced through kosuke’s shoulder.

“huh? i couldn’t hear you,” [name] taunted, walking forward with kosuke’s dagger in his hand and ready to stab into his enemy’s flesh.

the assassin clutched his bleeding wound, glaring at [name], “all that confidence, but for what? you can’t even protect your own captain!”

[name]’s movement stilled the moment the words left kosuke’s mouth.

“ha! you didn’t know?!” the man taunted, taking [name]’s surprise to his advantage, “crocodile had killed him only minutes after you guys left him to fight!! it was a pathetic showing, i watched the life drain out of your precious boy’s eyes! there’s no doubt, he’s dead, [name]!”

the light was hitting the silver necklace around [name]’s neck just right to make it look like it was sparkling. that made kosuke’s eyes squint in interest, then a look of realization crossed his face.

[name] still hadn’t moved, but his expression showed nothing. his eyes were devoid of any emotion as his face was stoic, not giving kosuke any idea of what he was thinking.

but if the assassin could have even had a glimpse into [name]’s mind, he would’ve acted on better judgement and ran away from the fight. because the atrocities [name] was mulling over on committing were horrific.

『 prev 』 ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌊 ꒱ 『 next 』

taglist (lmk if u want to be tagged ! <3 :

@skullr0se, @strawberrii-tea, @triangulartriangles, @anotherlovefool, @haratatsu, @sinmp, @3v37773, @taru-nami @disc0dild0s, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @kaulitzer

#≡;- ꒰ ° keep safe series ꒱#ks #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #x male reader #x reader #male reader #one piece male reader #one piece imagines #male reader imagines #anime male reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #male reader fanfic #male reader fanfiction

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stanmammon · 11 months

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Hey, first of all love your writing. You're one of the blogs I check regularly to see what's new. Could you maybe write something where MC is in denial when Asmo asks to go out with t Like when asked out they scoff and go "Nice try but I'm not falling for that." Like they seem so confident in everyday life, speaking confidently and knowing they are good at what they do, but really they have low self esteem when it comes to looks and romantic relationships. I was jokingly asked out a lot as a kid (either laughed at right when I said yes or stood up) so, when someone genuinely asked me out, I acted like a fucking asshole because I thought the person was making fun of me. Didn't realize until a mutual friend chewed me out. I was wondering what that would be like with MC and Asmo, because I can see MC thinking "Asmo's too out if my league, this is probably a dare or something."

Asmodeus:

Asmo is kind of stunned at your rejection. He knew that he had a bit of a reputation and he never hid the fact he liked to date around but it’s not like he was just pulling some prank. If he disliked you or thought you were unattractive, he never had a problem saying it! He’s hurt that you think he’s being dishonest with you and it might cause a fight as Asmo, despite having all the self-confidence in the world, can still be hurt by someone assuming the worst of him. His teary eyes are the first clue that you might’ve taken it a step too far as him asking you out on a date was innocent enough, and assuming Asmo was like all the other assholes you’d met before was unfair.

He’s a little harsh too, telling you perhaps you should stop believing the worst in people, especially when Asmo was your friend. He had never treated you poorly and you had already judged his character if you were friends, so why were you acting differently now?

Asmo does become even more determined to prove to you that his feelings are genuine. He’ll give you the ultimate Asmo dating experience, ready to show you off to the entire Devildom to claim you as his own! He would even cut back on at least 50% of his flirting to prove his loyalty! He was a demon who needed attention and adoration but the hearts in his eyes (and the one beating in his chest) were meant for you, only you, and he’d do anything to prove it.

#Obey Me!#Obey Me #Obey Me Shall We Date #Obey Me Nightbringer #Obey Me Imagines #Obey Me Shall We Date Imagines #Obey Me Nightbringer Imagines #Obey Me x Reader #Obey Me Nightbringer x Reader #Obey Me Asmo #Obey Me Asmodeus #Obey Me Asmo x Reader #Obey Me Asmodeus x Reader

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whumpsoda · 3 months

Text

Neglected - Malak & Adrastus

WOHEO Masterlist

Hopefully I’ll get to more early Malak stuff soon. Have this for now!

cw: neglect, pet whump, starvation, conditioned/brainwashed whumpee, vampire whumper

———————————————————————

Malak followed along with an intense fascination at the screen, visuals of a colorful program dancing around in the reflection of his eyes. From an outsider his mind would have appeared eerily vacant, yet there was no one around to make that observation.

He was alone.

Sitting far too close to the screen he was, so close that it filled his line of vision entirely and sucked him in completely. His teeth were gripped to the collar of his plush sweater, absentmindedly gnawing over each tiny thread of yarn. A trickle of drool slipped over the fabric, adding to the pool of moisture that dribbled from his mouth and was sucked by the cloth.

Whatever he was watching, he really didn’t know nor did he have the mind to care, seemed to run on a never ending loop. It was blissful to watch over and over again, mindlessly filling his head and keeping him blankly entertained. He was so captivated in fact, that he could ignore the screams of his body in favor of brainless satisfaction.

But it hurt.

He hurt.

The pain was distant but still heavily noticeable, irritatingly interrupting his focus. He was hungry, so hungry, his stomach shriveling up and calling for him to satiate the hunger. Every so often his belly would twist and groan, his hands gripping weakly at his own plump flesh in a feeble attempt to rid the noise. His head pounded along with it, sickly beating on him to do something.

He could ignore it. He would much rather continue the pattern of letting his mind wander away, head empty except from growing fog that filled the space where his brain should’ve been.

Unfortunately, while his eyes and ears were captivated by the program, his nose was not.

He could not ignore the stench of his own unwashed body, hair and skin sticky with ruminating sweat. Curls stuck to his flesh, frizzy and coated with grease. Malak had no sense of how long he’d been without being bathed or fed, just a couple of the tasks he could no longer do himself, and seemingly the neglect was catching up with him.

Even if truly he had no want to, Malak pulled his fixed gaze away from the captivating TV, ignoring the suffocating urge to look back. Surely if he did there was no chance he could get away from it.

He followed the sound of his master’s clicking heels, their faint, evergrowing music, and the taps of expensive pallets and brushes to their countertop, all the way into their bathroom. Malak stumbled in on all fours, drowsily leaning against the doorframe to keep himself upright.

Adrastus came soon into view as he inched further into the room. They leaned over their sink with a stick of expensive mascara in hand, eyes opened wide to carefully apply to their lashes. Their hair was elegantly done, and a luxurious, well fitting dress was fixed over their body. They looked gorgeous. Of course, Malak always thought they did. He was especially fond of the vibrant red color meticulously put on their lips, that reminded him of the blood they so craved.

He got a little dizzy just thinking about it.

They must’ve heard the clink of his leash as he took another step, whipping their eyes around in the mirrors reflection to find him. “Oh, hello, dear!” They called, as they brushed through their eyelashes once more.

Finally reaching his master, his impossibly heavy hands and knees threatening to give out, Malak plopped back onto his ankles, seated into a kneeling position. He whined, a grating sound as he began stroking his head up and around their leg, curls tickling their skin.

“What might you be doing in here?” They questioned, just about finished up. Their tone was uninterested, far more preoccupied with their looks than the health of their thrall. “I thought I left you with the television on.”

Malak nodded against their calf, groaning sickly in agreement. “That’s right, isn’t it? Why would you leave your spot? I could’ve sworn I put on your favorite.”

He wailed, boisterous and from the depths of his chest, causing them to jump and drop their makeup. He’d never made that sound before. He didn’t know he could.

“Darling, is something bothering you?”

Lips downturned, he nodded.

“Let me just finish getting ready and I’ll check on you, okay? I bet you’re just upset you’re not watching TV anymore, huh?” What? That wasn’t it. He needed help. “And who’s fault is that? Go back to the living room and I’ll be right with you.”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Malak needed them right then! He couldn’t wait any longer. He cried out for them again, banging to the tile with burly yet exhausted fists.

“Oh, dear, come on now, don’t make such a fuss.” The vampire gifted him a few soft, weighted pats to the head. Each heavy press was bouncing the thoughts out from his brain, leaving him confused and cotton headed.

He needed… he…

What was he doing again? There was something missing, swiftly stolen from his mind. Something he could have sworn was just there. Maybe.

Malak’s stomach growled, loud and strained, reaching all the way up to his caving throat. He groaned along with the noise, expression twisting in need and pain.

“Hur… hurrrght! Hurt! Hurts!” He wailed, tugging feebly to their dress, pitifully trying to regain their attention. His voice came out strange and grated, rippling at the back of his throat.

“Hey!” They snapped, swatting him off. “Malak, you’re going to rip my dress!” He recoiled at the raise of their voice, almost tumbling onto his back from his lack of balance.

Rarely ever did they call him by his actual name. It was always the cute pet names, the ones that made his belly swirl with flattered pleasure. He’d upset them.

Shrinking back, his sludgy tone quieted to a whisper. “Hurt… hur… hurtsss…”

After a quiet moment their playful composure returned. They giggled at him, their condescending, pitying smile only making Malak feel worse. “Silly boy. You’re hurting because you came crawling in here, all dumb and confused, and not watching your show!” They cooed, cupping his chin.

Malak could only let another croaking cry pour from his lips, clawing feebly again at his master’s sleeve. That just wasn’t it! Why wouldn’t they listen to him? Why couldn’t he make it make sense?

Their face softened a bit as he fussed. “Come along, pumpkin. I’ll make it all better, okay?” Their fingers trailed down the leash from his throat to the floor, clutching the end as they lifted back to their feet.

“Nngh!” Malak groaned in befuddled frustration as his master yanked him forward in the direction of the living room, pulling the opposite way and in return being choked by his thick collar.

“Come, dear. Follow.” The said flatly.

He knew he had to listen, he knew he did, to obediently follow their every command with no questions asked, but he just couldn’t. He dreadfully ached and wailer for help, even at the expense of their disapproval.

Eventually Malak relented, giving in to the jerk of the leash and crawling with knobby knees that knocked the wood all the way back to his pile of plush pillows. Adrastus gestured to the tussled spot, looking just the way he left it.

“Here, darling, you’ll feel so much better by the television.” As he turned away, back to presumably beg for aid once again, they forcibly turned his face back to the television until the urge dissipated.

Were they petting him? The delightful sensation was dissipating, pushed to a distance from his awareness by the increasing softening of his brain, turning it to a sticky mess of mush in his head.

“Master is busy, alright dear? I can’t give you my full attention all the time. There’s only one of me, you know.” He nodded along as they spoke, gradually digesting and agreeing with their words. Was he moving his head? Or was it them? “Watch just one more episode for Master, okay? And then I’ll give you the best little bubble bath.”

Another episode… couldn’t hurt. He did enjoy the TV. Maybe it would make him feel better. And he wanted a bubble bath! Only good boys got those, so of course he had to do what they said. Surely his master knew what was right, they always told him so. It always seemed to succeed in distracting him from all the silly worries that plagued him.

Nimble fingers soothed his unwashed skin, ever so gently nudging him further toward the screen. “Good boy.” They tenderly purred, letting a swirl of pleasantries prance about his body.

He’d be just fine. Just one more episode, and his master would return to shower him with well deserved care and affection. Because he was a good boy.

Just one more episode.

Right?

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

#we only have each other #whump #whump writing #my writing #Malak oc #Adrastus oc #Pet whump #pet whumpee #conditioned whumpee #brainwashing #hypnosis #hypnotized whumpee #brainwashed whumpee #whumpblr #thrall whumpee #vampire whump #vampire #vampire whumper

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dira333 · 9 months

Text

Senpai - Komori x reader

for the Haikyuu Request Game - requested by @alienaiver

He heard the story, like everyone else.

That hotshot from Karasuno with the buzz head had managed to score the legendary beauty that was Karasuno’s third-year manager.

Relationships between players and managers weren’t uncommon but as far as Komori knew, the girls were usually the ones that were younger.

But there he was, Tanaka Ryunosuke, the proof that exceptions confirm the rule.

If only Komori could have been as lucky, he thought, as you graduated and left the school.

He’s a first year and training camp is a terrible mix of consoling his cousin and trying not to fall behind.

He needs to prove his place on the court just as much as Kiyoomi but he needs to prove his place on the team a little bit more.

“Here, your water.” You smile as you hand out the bottles, golden sunlight casting a halo around you as you walk through the throng of people catching their breath.

He’s not been in love before, has merely fancied one girl over the other in Junior High.

But this, the rapid beating of his heart, the longing pull that starts behind his navel and steers him towards you, always towards you, this must be love.

“My girlfriend-” It’s not polite but Komori has learned to tone out Washio every time he starts a sentence like that.

“So, what do you think?” Washio’s grinning at him and Suna‘s smirking next to him like he knows exactly what’s going on but choosing to enjoy the show instead of helping.

“About what?”

“What I just said.”

“I wasn’t li-” Komori interrupts himself by turning his head, still way too attuned to your sight. But could it really be?”

“Earth to Komori, are you listening?”

“You guys go ahead.” He grins and fears that it must look a little bit hysterical, “I just realized I urgently need a coffee before we watch that movie.”

“You’re right.” Suna’s voice drawls lazily as he eyes Komori, ever the instigator, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. I’ll get you one. I know what you drink anyway. Go on, go ahead.”

“Is he okay?” You ask when Sakusa hides in the corner yet again.

The worry is visible on your face, painting shadows where none have been before.

He’s seen you cheerful, has seen you determined, but never worried like this. It creates a strange feeling in his chest, pulling him apart in two very distinct directions.

He wants to see more of this, wants to explore all there is to explore, see all the colors of emotion you can be painted in.

And he wants you to be never worried at all. Wants the shadows to disappear until you’re bathed in nothing but light.

Your hand is warm on his elbow as the two of you look over at Kiyoomi.

His voice is thick as he speaks but for a different reason than you must assume.

“He’s not good with crowds.”

“What can we do to help?”

That’s how he knows that he’s lost to this feeling.

Because in all your struggles, helping others has always come first.

By the time he makes it into the coffee shop he’d seen you walk in, he fears you might have already left again.

But there you are, waiting for your drink, still as beautiful as you’d been years ago.

“Senpai?”

Oh god, he shouldn’t have called out to you like this, your name would have been way better, right?

But you look up and he cantell you recogniz him, pleasant surprise washing over your face.

“Komori-kun!” You smile. “What a surprise!”

“I just saw you walk past and had to say hi.” He tells you, feeling surprisingly shy all over again. You’ve always had that effect on him.

“What are you doing? Can I buy you a coffee?”

You laugh, taking your cup from the barista just as he utters the words.

“That’s very sweet of you. I was just out shopping but I have some time, we could sit down and chat a bit if you want?”

He nods eagerly, following you to a table.

“What have you been up to, Senpai?” He asks, too happy about the fact you’re willing to spend your free time with him to care about anything at all.

You’re giggling at the back of the bus, heads stuck together over a movie playing on his phone. Kiyoomi is sleeping next to them, his curled-up body the reason you’d come back in the first place.

Talking to you has always been easy, the only Senpai he’s allowed to call by first name.

He wonders if you know how he feels about you. If it’s as visible on his face as it is on the inside.

Second-year just started and he’s already dreading the end of it, having to go through another year without you by their side. By his side.

He knows so much about you now, has learned so much in one year of knowing you yet feels like he doesn’t know enough.

He knows why you decided to become a manager instead of a member of the Girls Volleyball Club but he doesn’t know how you feel when you watch them instead of playing yourself.

He knows you’re struggling with a chronic illness you’re still not fully grasping the extent of but he doesn’t know how you feel about it on your good days, on your bad days, on the days that fall in the middle of it all.

He knows that you love their team but he doesn’t know how you feel about him, just that he’s younger than you, will always be younger than you and all girls in his class are looking at the older guys instead, never the other way around.

“Oh no, I should get going.” You look at your watch with a frown on your face. “I totally lost track of the time.”

“Oh, we should, I mean, we could…” Komori’s stumbling over his words now, “I’d like to do that again. If you want, I mean.”

You smile politely. “It was very nice, but I don’t go out for coffee often.”

Komori’s thinking of Tanaka, of the rare exceptions proving the rule, and he takes his heart into his mouth.

“What about a date?”

“Huh?” You look surprised, but not in a negative way, and he soldiers on.

“I’ve been interested in you ever since you were a manager for us but I was too shy to confess to you back then. But we’re older now and we’re both single and I’d like to take you out on a date. Only if you’re comfortable with it, though. I don’t want to pressure you, Senpai.”

Your face had been open and curious up until his last word, your brows furrowing at the formal term. Komori knows when he’s fucking up and this seems to be the moment for him.

“Or you can take your time and think about it first,” he tries to save what he can. “I can give you my number.”

There’s a moment of stillness between the two of you, as if even the world is holding its breath to wait for your answer.

“Yes, that would be okay.”

His hand’s shaking as he scribbles down his number, his heart in his throat.

He’d never thought he’d get the chance to confess to you, not after you graduated.

But as you leave he can’t help the thought that this isn’t going to work out.

He’s just not Tanaka.

He’s not the exception.

It’s custom to hand your second button to the person you like the most on the day of your graduation.

But by the time he graduates you’re no longer a student at their school.

He plucks the button from his jacket the minute he steps out of the house, pushing it into his bag until it’s somewhere hidden between his books. He hopes that it will be out of sight and out of mind but he cannot stop thinking about it.

Not when Kiyoomi throws him a knowing look.

Not when seemingly everyone passing them wonders aloud who had gotten his second button first.

And it’s not that no one asks for the button.

It’s the fact that he’s learned what he wants and even if there might be another person out there for him, someone like you but not like you, they’re not at school with him today.

One day, two days, three days pass without a word from you.

Komori should have known.

“You seem down, man.” Washio blocks the door of the changing room, worry in his eyes.

“Yeah, you were so happy after you ditched us at the movies, what happened?” Suna’s trying to act as cool as ever but the fact that he’s staying behind with Washio tells Komori that his teammate is worried.

“‘s nothing guys.” He tries to deflect but Washio’s not stepping aside.

“Spill.”

And maybe it’s the fact that these boys have not been on a team with him in High school, have never met you before or known his awkward self trying to hide his crush, but as soon as the first words fall from his lips he can’t stop talking, pouring it all out.

“Damn.” Washio huffs out when he ends while Suna’s on his phone again, chewing on his lip as he types.

“That’s her?” He turns his phone to your instagram profile. It’s a picture of you smiling at the beach, volleyball tucked under your arm.

“Yeah.” Komori mumbles, worried for whatever Suna might say next. But he just pockets his phone and claps one hand on his shoulder, pressing the firm muscle as if to tell him, without words, that he knows exactly what he’s feeling right now.

At least he’s not going through this alone.

-.-.-.-

“My name is Komori Motoya. I played Libero at the Dōshō Junior High. I look forward to playing with you. Please take care of me.” He bows with the other boys but none of them stick out to you like he does.

It’s not that he’s got talent. Because Sakusa does too.

It’s not that he’s tall. Because Sakusa is taller.

It’s not even the fact that he’s cute. Because Tsukasa might be cuter.

You can’t tell what it is, but you can point out when it shows.

In the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his mouth curls when he thinks.

In the way he manages to make everyone open up - even you - and never seems to get tired of listening to his cousin's rants.

You know he has a great future ahead and you wish him the best of luck, hoping against all common sense that your future might intertwine.

Sufferers of chronic illnesses and future sports stars rarely have many things in common.

At least you’ve had High School.

One hour. Two hours. Three hours.

You can’t take it anymore, phone pressed against your ear as you wait for the call to be picked up.

You don’t wait for your best friend to properly greet you before the words spill from your lips like the surge of waves.

“Do you remember Komori?”

“Komori?”

“Komori Motoya? Libero? Second Year? Do you remember him?”

“Please, I’d never forget that tall bean pole of sweetness. You had such a crush on him, it was insane. What made you think of him?”

Your chewing on your nails now, a trait you thought you’d gotten over.

“I met him today. We-we had a coffee together.”

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“CUTE?” You huff and apologize for your outbreak instantly, pacing your room now in another futile attempt to calm yourself down.

“He confessed to me. I don’t know what to do!”

“What do you mean? You say yes, of course.”

“But- What about never dating younger guys?”

“Please. you’re both grown ups now, that’s different. But tell me all the details first, I have to live through you, remember?”

“Here, take my jacket.” Komori’s jersey jacket envelopes you like a blanket, still warm from his own body heat. It smells like him too, a little bit sweet and a little bit citrusy.

You try not to dip your nose into it and fail but he’s not noticing it, eyes ahead as you walk, his hand a steadying presence on your back.

“I can gather the things myself.” You remind him. “Surely you need the rest after training.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles down at you and your steps falter the slightest bit, your heart betraying you by jumping at the familiar sight. “You would have to walk multiple times and with me we can get this done in one.”

And you think that’s it. That he’s just helpful like he always is. But he always, always cuts into your resolve with his words and his smile. Always, always makes you think that maybe, just maybe, you should give in.

“Besides. I like spending time with you.”

His hand brushes yours as you walk and you wonder what would happen if you just took it, felt the warmth of his pulse under your fingers, allowed yourself to be loved by him.

But your future is still dangling in front of you with its fangs revealed. The future is scary and unsure of many things but tests and doctors telling you all the things you won’t be able to do.

Love is often a fickle thing.

You’d rather look back knowing you could have had him than look back and know that you lost him.

You give yourself 24 hours to think this over before you text him.

At 23 hours and thirty minutes you decide that enough is enough and send him the text you’d spent thirty minutes revising with your friend yesterday.

There’s no answer.

No read sign, no dancing dots.

You tell yourself that he’s probably still training and force yourself to put your phone away.

Two days pass until your phone vibrates with a message you’d almost given up on.

But as you open the text, you freeze in your spot.

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number. My name’s not Komori.”

He’d given you a wrong number.

But he’d sounded so certain, so honest…

“Never have I ever broken a bone.” He teases, eyes sparkling as he watches you take a sip of your soda.

The rest of the team is sprinkled across the restaurant, Sakusa just a few seats over talking with your first-year manager about the importance of sanitizing the volleyballs properly.

She’s clearly infatuated with him and he’s clearly oblivious to it.

“Never have I ever broken my word.” You test him and his mouth curls as he thinks before shaking his head.

You shouldn’t look too closely at his lips, shouldn’t think too much about his eyes, but the end of the school year is nearing, graduation looming over you and the sight of his face is the only thing keeping you sane some days.

Two days.

Two days you spend doubting yourself, your perception of him.

On Monday you give in to the quiet voice mumbling in the back of your brain, reminding you of hours spent in the gym with him, laughing at his jokes, marveling at how easy comforting others comes to him.

He’s a good guy, always has been.

You think of his shy smile as you type the numbers you’d googled earlier, think of him blushing as you listen to the ringing on the other side.

“EJP Raijin management, Nishida Sadao speaking, how can I help you?”

“Hello Nishida-san, I am calling today with an unusual request but I hope you can help me…”

You cry on your graduation day.

Most people cry on their graduation day.

Some of them shed happy tears, and some of them get their heart broken.

You wonder if you’re the first to break your own heart.

When will the time come when you can trust your decisions?

When will the time come when you can allow yourself to live?

You tell yourself that you will find someone else. Someone like him but not like him.

You’re still wearing your office attire, well aware of how out of place you’re looking as the doors open and one athlete after the other leaves the gym, throwing you curious glances.

Every time you hear the creaking sound of the door opening, you stand up a little straighter, fight the nervous fidgeting of your hands and the urge to chew on your nails again.

This time, a dark-haired man steps out, golden eyes landing on you just like with everyone else before. But while everyone else had looked away again, trying to seem polite, his eyes widened in surprise and he let out something that sounded like a string of curse words before he slipped back inside.

A second later, the door opens again, this time to Komori who’s looking at someone behind him.

“Suna, what are you doing? What do you me-” He stops when he sees you, blood rushing to his face in a blush so vivid you’ve never seen before.

“Hi.” You speak first when he seems unable to open his mouth.

“I tried texting you.” You soldier on this time, tongue dry in your mouth, heart hammering in your chest. “But I got the wrong number. At first, I thought it might have been on purpose…”

“It wasn’t.” He bursts out, blushing even more as he stammers. “I must have… I didn’t… I meant.”

You lift the bag in your arms, a thermos peaking out of the top. “Do you want to go for coffee?” You ask, well aware that it’s well past 6 p.m.

But his eyes glitter as he steps closer, just like they did in High School when you handed him his water bottle.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you know exactly how he feels.

You nod, a smile pulling at your lips.

“After all, you still owe me your second button.”

Love comes to those who grasp it.

Love comes to those who are patient, trusting that when it appears once it will appear twice.

Love comes to those who know that right person wrong time is not the end of it all.

After all, time isn’t linear.

It overlaps like the petals of a rose.

Liberos are usually the shortest player on the team. Komori isn’t.

Managers usually fall in love with the older players. You didn’t.

How lucky to be the exception to confirm the rule.

But, as Suna thinks to himself, watching the two of you leave that night, there might not be a rule to this at all.

And if there is no rhyme and rule to this game, he might still have a chance.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabbles #komori Motoya #Komori x reader #washio tatsuki #suna rintarou #ejp raijin #this prompt originated from a idea I had for Tsuki #Happy to finally write it for someone #had to drizzle in some suna suspense at the end

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harry-on-broadway · 1 year

Text

The Last Line: Part Three

Part Three

Word Count: 10K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M

A/N: I actually managed to keep my promise and post when I said I would 😅 But seriously, thank you to everyone who has hung around waiting for the update. I hope you like it and would LOVE to hear what you think!

***

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

“Are you going to get that?” Chloe asked pointedly, eyeing Penny’s phone as it vibrated on her desk.

“I’m sorry, is it bothering you?” Penny replied cheekily.

“Yes, but only because I want to know who has been texting you.”

Penny picked up her phone and looked at the screen. Four text messages from Harry. “Just a source,” she said. “I think I might have a lead on a new feature, so I’ve been trying to build a relationship with them.” That was kind of the truth wasn’t it?

“Uh huh,” Chloe said, twirling a pen between her fingers. “And does this source’s name rhyme with Barry Tiles?”

“Shhhh!”

“I knew it!”

The two women stared at each other over the partition that separated their desks, as Penny steeled herself for the barrage of questions Chloe was sure to hurl at her. “You want to take a walk? Get a coffee?” Chloe asked, clearly opting for discretion now that she had gotten what she was looking for from Penny.

“Yes, but you’re buying.”

“Deal.”

When their lattes were in their hands, Penny and Chloe began their slow and strategic walk around the office park, following a carefully planned route that they knew put them out of earshot of nosy coworkers.

“So when did this happen?” Chloe asked.

“Umm…” Penny searched for an answer. “Like a couple of weeks ago, I think? We got drinks after that concert we went to.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that but not the fact that he’s suddenly your new best friend.”

“You know he’s not my best friend. I could never take that title away from you.”

“I appreciate that but that doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about him.”

“I didn’t say anything because this just kind of…happened,” Penny said.

And it had. She thought about the way she had texted him when she’d gotten home from their post-show drinks. And how he’d replied. And how when she’d woken up the next morning he’d sent her another message, this one containing a link to a country song that she hadn’t heard before. She thought about how she listened to the song on repeat while she made her coffee and got ready for work, crafting the perfect response in her head as she tapped her fingers to the beat. She thought about how Harry had texted her daily since that night. And, each time she added to her notes on whatever it was Harry was working on, she tried to suppress the feelings of guilt that brewed deep inside.

“Like hell it ‘just happened.’” Chloe tried to make air quotes around the coffee cup in her hands. “It wasn’t that long ago that I thought I’d have to be a character witness at trial for you.”

“Ha ha, but I swear! We just had a drink and talked and things progressed from there.”

“Where’d you take him?”

“Seventy7.”

“Your date spot?”

“My source meeting spot.” Penny took a sip of her coffee.

“So, he’s a source? What are you cooking up?”

Penny looked around, making sure they were far away from anyone who might be eavesdropping on their conversation. “He has a new album coming out sometime this year. Tom told me and so did Harry. And I was thinking, maybe if I got a scoop on it, it would impress Darren and would give me a better shot at landing some stories.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said. “But in what world is this a good idea? Did you miss the ethics class freshman year? You know the one about unbiased reporting? Keeping friends and family out of stories? Do you recall any of that? Or were you too hypnotized by his ravishing good looks during your date that all rational thought left your head?”

“He’s neither friend nor family and it wasn’t a date. It was networking. A source meeting. You have those all the time.”

“Yeah, at premieres where I’m talking to 50 year-old men I most certainly don’t want to fuck.”

“I don’t want to fuck Harry.”

“OK, that was great,” Chloe said. “Let’s take that once more though, and this time make me believe you actually believe what you’re saying.”

“I don’t want to fuck him,” Penny said definitively.

Chloe held her gaze waiting for her friend to break. “Well all right then we’ve settled it.” Penny’s phone buzzed again. “What’s your ‘source’ want now?”

Penny unlocked her phone, angling the screen so Chloe could see the four texts Harry had sent.

Hey. How’re you?

I’m in the studio today so I’m on your side of town. Might be stopping by the office to talk to Jeff about something too.

Been listening to this today. Have you heard of it?

Um, any chance you want to grab a drink? Maybe dinner?

“Do you usually get dinner with sources?” Chloe asked with a grin.

“First time for everything,” Penny said, replying to Harry’s message.

Yeah, maybe tomorrow?

His reply came back fast. How’s tonight?

“Someone’s eager,” Chloe laughed.

“What’s wrong with that? Maybe I’ll get what I need.” After confirming the time and location, Penny slid her phone into her bag. “Now where were we?”

“You were profusely denying your attraction to Harry. Unbelievably, I might add.”

“Chlo, I don’t know how many times I can say this…I’m simply tolerating him to get something from him.”

“This is the part in the rom com where the sassy best friend tells the plucky protagonist that she’s making a mistake because she’s going to develop real feelings.”

“And this is the part in the rom com where I go back to my desk and actually get some work done.”

Penny spun on her heel and started back towards the office, leaving Chloe to catch up behind her. Penny spent the rest of the afternoon bouncing between edits to a listicle about “10 Songs You Didn’t Realize Were Turning 10 in 2019” and making a list of things she wanted to ask Harry that night. How far along was the album? Was he close to announcing a release date? A single? Were the songs he’d been sending her any indication of what his new tracks would sound like? A few minutes before five, she slammed her laptop shut, tossing it into the canvas tote that doubled as her purse and work bag these days.

“See you tomorrow,” she called to Chloe and Devon, one of their graphic designers. Devon waved, quickly turning his attention back to his monitor, while Chloe spun in her chair.

“Make good choices tonight,” she called with a sly wink. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“You’ll be my one call if I do,” Penny called cheerfully over her shoulder, as Chloe’s laugh echoed through the mostly empty newsroom.

Penny pulled out of the parking garage, cruising through the streets to the restaurant Harry had texted her. It was a bit further out than she usually traveled during the week, but when she looked on the map, it looked like it was midway between her neighborhood and his. Neutral territory. She drummed along to the song on the radio – something by Justin Timberlake – as she waited for the light to turn, catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Several strands of hair had escaped from her ponytail and she had a smudge of eyeliner under her left eye.

Ugh. This was not how she wanted to show up to dinner. Eyeing the light and the number of cars in front of her, she shook out her hair, retying it into something slightly neater before rubbing at the smudge under her eye. That looked better, right? She continued to stare at her reflection. What was missing? Lipstick? She thought she had one that wasn’t too old in her bag. After one more glance at the light, she rooted through her tote until she found a neutral coral color that wouldn’t look too out of place on her face. She was just about to apply it to her lips when the car behind her laid on their horn.

“OK, sorry. I’m going!” she cried out to no one in particular. Lipstick would have to wait. But as she made the final turns of her journey and pulled into the parking lot, she couldn’t help but wonder why she felt the need to get dressed up for Harry. This was essentially a business meeting. She gave one final glance at the lipstick that was now on her passenger seat and decided to forgo it. Source meeting, business dinner, not a date. She locked her car and made her way inside. Harry had texted her that he was already there at a table in the back, a message she relayed to the host at the lobby of the restaurant.

“Party name?” he asked.

“Ugh…” She stumbled over her words. “Harry Styles,” she whispered, unsure if she was breaking some unspoken rule by saying his full name aloud.

The host smiled knowingly. “Right through here. You’ll see him seated towards the back. Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks, you too!” Penny said, walking through the curtain that separated the dining room from the lobby.

Her eyes swept over the room, adjusting to the dim lighting as she looked for Harry, finding him on a second glance. He lifted his hand and waved gently, a soft smile on his face. She strode briskly to the table, and he stood as she approached.

“Hey,” he said when she was within earshot. “You look nice.”

Penny looked down at her worn jeans, t-shirt, and blazer. “Thanks?”

“Shit, that was weird,” Harry said with a laugh.

“No. Hey, I’ll take it. You look…nice…too.” It wasn’t a lie. Harry would look fantastic wearing anything in any situation, but there was something about him that was different from the last time she’d seen him. He looked tired. Stressed. “How have you been?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“Good, good. Staying busy, lots going on,” Harry said, returning to his seat once Penny had sat down. “Been spending some long days in the studio which is…great, but also tiring.”

“I can imagine.”

“You?”

“Oh, pretty similar actually. Not that I’m in a studio, but just a lot of work stuff. They haven’t hired a new news writer yet so I’m kind of doing the work of two people right now, and then there’s a lot of late nights with concerts and stuff and oh my God I should stop talking.” She laughed nervously.

“No, you’re good,” Harry said with a chuckle. “See anyone cool lately.”

“I saw John Legend last week, and I’m seeing a jazz ensemble tomorrow.”

“Sick.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward pause fell over the table as Harry sipped his water and Penny fidgeted with the silverware in front of her. Mercifully, a waiter appeared to take their drink orders.

“I’ll do the Moscato,” Harry said after perusing the wine menu.

“Oh, that sounds good. I’ll have some as well,” Penny said, returning her own menu.

“Should I bring a bottle for the table?” the waiter asked.

“Uh, sure,” Harry said. “Is that OK?” He looked at Penny who just nodded. “The bottle would be great, thanks.”

The waiter disappeared and returned shortly, pouring their wine and taking their dinner orders, before leaving them alone. Silence once again filled the space between them.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Penny asked at the same time Harry asked if she had listened to the song he’d sent her. They both laughed.

“I just thought we could catch up. Make good on that promise of ‘next time,’” he said, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Oh yeah,” Penny took a sip of her own wine. “You said you’d been getting lots of studio time in. I assume the new project is coming along nicely.”

“It’s certainly coming along. I’m not sure about nicely.”

“Why not?”

Harry let out a long breath. “Things aren’t going as easily as I hoped. I feel like everything I’ve written in the past couple of weeks has been shit.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s a lie.”

“I don’t know. If you heard what I finished before I came here you might think differently.”

“You write with others, right?” Penny asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Tom, Tyler, Mitch. That’s the usual crew.”

“Good group. I’m not super familiar with Mitch’s work, but I’m sure he’s top tier if you’re working with him.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment for me or Mitch, but I’ll accept it regardless.”

Penny thought about shooting back a “Why would I compliment you?” but seeing how drained Harry looked, she refrained. “Is there something in particular that’s holding you up?”

“Well, I did some writing while I was touring, and then did a lot of writing earlier this year when I was in Japan. But I still don’t feel like the album’s done. It’s like the secret ingredient is missing or something. But sometimes I feel like I’m the only person that feels that way and that everyone else just wants to wrap it up to get it out there.”

“You have to listen to your gut then,” Penny said without hesitation.

“Easier said than done.”

“No, seriously if you think something is missing, I think you have to hone in on that feeling. Really listen to what your heart and your gut are telling you. Only you know what your album needs to be. Collaboration is great and it clearly works when you have the right group of people together, but when you start letting everyone’s voice in the room, that’s when things start to feel inauthentic. And there’s nothing worse than listening to an album where you know it’s not what the artist fully believes.”

“You can tell?” Harry said, somewhat surprised.

“Well, it’s not like I know everyone personally,” Penny began. “But it’s just a feeling you get when you’ve listened to a lot of stuff. Artists have their signature, and it’s always there even when they start experimenting. Like let’s use Rihanna as an example. If she suddenly started writing about the good life on the farm and drinking beer on the porch with her dog, it would just feel weird, like a label pushing her to replicate the hot new country song. But good artists don’t need to follow the trends, they set them.”

Harry nodded, which Penny took as a sign to continue. “Like for example, your first album.” She took a breath knowing she was potentially treading on thin ice. “It really set the standard for your sound as a solo artist. It’s an album that is clearly very modern, but very heavily influenced by 60s and 70s rock. So, people know to expect that from you. You’re the guy that makes vintage modern and cool. But, perhaps that album was a little too cookie cutter, which I think you know. So this time around, maybe you needed to take a couple of risks, make an album that shows the world who Harry really is. Each album is an opportunity to change the trajectory of your career and I think you should act on it.” Harry stared at her, speechless. “Sorry, if I overstepped,” she said.

“No no, you didn’t,” he said. “Fuck that was exactly what I needed to hear.” He ran his hands over his face. “It’s just that even when I try to insulate myself from the noise, it leaks through. Comments about sales and singles and streaming and charting and all of this stuff that will really determine if I get to keep doing this. And it just makes me get so caught up in my head…” he trailed off.

“I do the same thing sometimes,” Penny replied. “I just get so focused on if this article will get more clicks than the last one, or if it will get good traction on social and help me ‘build my brand.’ I just forget why I do this job.”

Harry nodded. “It can be easy to lose that reason why.”

Their waiter used the break in the conversation to deliver their food, and Penny tucked into her chicken parm, savoring the dish that was a massive step up from her usual combo of a pre-packaged salad and Easy Mac.

“About those songs, you sent me,” Penny began.

“Oh! Did you like them?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“Surprisingly?”

“Yeah, I'm admittedly not the biggest country fan,” Penny said. “And to be honest, I’m pretty surprised you're into that kind of music.”

“Oh, I love it,” Harry said, leaning closer and speaking faster. “Country artists are hands down the best at telling a story in a song. I’d like to be able to do that one day. You know, write about an experience that isn’t mine? Or at least tell a story of my own.”

“You’re well on your way to doing that.”

Harry flushed but ignored the remark. “I, uh, liked the playlist you sent me. I’ve been listening to it in the mornings.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like I’ve heard almost all of the songs before, but not in that way. They tell a different story when you listen to them back-to-back like that.”

“Oh, well thanks. I’ve always prided myself on making good playlists.”

“If you have another, send it my way,” Harry said, taking a bite of his pasta. “I’d love to hear more of what you’ve put together.”

“Well, I’ll have to send you my ‘Bad Bitch’ playlist that I listen to ahead of meetings with my editor.”

“Please.”

She had meant it as a joke, but Harry clearly didn’t take it that way. “Oh yeah, I’ll send it now.” She picked up her phone and sent him the link. “Enjoy. I hope you’re able to find your inner bad bitch.”

“I’ll keep you updated on my progress.”

When the waiter dropped the check on the table, Harry swiftly collected it, placing his card in the leather holder, ignoring Penny’s protests.

“I’m the one who invited you,” he said. “It’s only fair that I pay.”

Penny chewed on her lip. It was basic ethics that journalists didn’t accept gifts from sources. You always paid and kept your fingers crossed that your publication would reimburse you. “I can’t let you.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” What was she supposed to say? I accepted your invite because I wanted to hear about your album? I want to use you for my own personal gains? “Because it’s 2019 and women can pay for themselves.”

“Tell you what, you pay for me next time?”

“You and these next times,” Penny said with a laugh. “Always asking for more.”

“I just thought you were having fun and I was –”

“Harry, I’m kidding. It would be great to see you again. You’re actually pleasant to be around when you’re not acting like an asshole.”

“Two compliments in one night? I should buy you dinner more often!”

“I think that will be the next next time.”

Harry laughed and Penny noticed how when he found something funny, really truly funny, the skin around his eyes crinkled as his dimples deepened. She felt a rush of pride knowing she brought that out in him.

Harry’s phone chirped and the dimples and crinkles disappeared as he looked down at the incoming message. “I guess I should be going. Duty calls.”

“Heading back to the studio?”

“Yeah…” The lightness had disappeared from him.

“I know it’s easy for me, the person that will be critiquing your album, to say, but just write what you feel, Harry. You can’t go wrong with that.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

Penny rose from the table and Harry followed her to the exit. “Have a great rest of your night,” she said, unlocking her car.

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said, swaying on his feet. “I’ll uh, see you later?”

“Definitely! I think I’m free on Wednesday. I’ll text you.”

Harry smiled, and Penny felt warm inside, and marveled at how he could make her feel so good with just one gesture. “I’m looking forward to that,” he said. “Drive safe.”

As she drove home, Penny listened to the songs Harry had sent her over the week, really paying attention to the lyrics and the stories Harry had been talking about. He was right. They were some of the best she’d heard.

It wasn’t until Penny pulled into her parking spot in front of her building that she realized she didn’t get answers to any of her questions.

***

Harry took the quickest route to the studio from the restaurant, opening the voice notes app on his phone when he was stopped at a red light. He spoke quickly, tripping over his words, wanting to make sure he captured everything he was feeling in the moment. When he reached the studio, he rushed in, nearly bumping into Tyler as he turned the corner.

“Wasn’t expecting you to come back tonight, H,” Tyler said.

“I wasn’t either but inspiration struck and…”

“No, I get it,” Tyler said. “Want to get to work?”

“Let’s do it.”

***

The next morning, Penny awoke to a message from Harry.

I think I’ve finally found my inner bad bitch. Thanks for all the help.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Penny and Harry fell into a rhythm. He’d text her, usually at night when she was getting home from a gig, and they’d message back and forth until one of them fell asleep. They met up for impromptu drinks a few times and got coffee a couple of others. Their outings were usually initiated by Harry, and Penny was more than happy to go along with his suggestions. She kept reminding herself that this was just for work, but she couldn’t deny how much she was enjoying their time together.

Penny had just left Darren’s office one Wednesday afternoon, clenching her hands so hard, she was sure her nails had drawn blood. He’d killed another one of her features, even after suggesting she write it, and everything felt pointless. She was back at her desk deciding what her next move would be – get coffee or cry in the bathroom – when her phone rang. Seeing Harry’s name on the caller ID, she answered almost immediately.

“Hey,” Harry said, his voice tinged with surprise.

“Hey.” Penny could hear the waver in her own voice.

“Is now a bad time?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“You sound…upset,” Harry said cautiously.

“Just a typical day here.”

“Would you have time to take a break? Maybe get a coffee? I’m at Full Stop today.”

Penny looked at her watch. She had time to spare and the way things had been going lately, Harry might be the perfect way to improve her mood. “Sure. I can meet you at Blue Bottle in like 10 minutes.”

“See you there.”

Penny ended the call and grabbed her wallet. “I’ll be back later,” she said to Chloe. Blue Bottle was just a quick walk from her office and she stood outside the coffee shop, rocking back and forth on her heels until she saw Harry approach.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes searching her for obvious signs of distress. “I’m glad you were able to sneak away.”

“Yeah, I needed the break.” Penny gestured to the register inside. “Want to order now?”

Harry nodded and followed Penny inside, ordering an iced Americano after she’d asked for a vanilla latte.

“This was supposed to be my treat,” Harry said as Penny inserted her card into the machine to pay. “I invited you.”

“Next time’s on you,” Penny said with a tight grin, moving off to the side to wait for their drinks, handing Harry a straw.

“So…” Harry said, picking the paper straw wrapper. “Are we going to talk about whatever’s happening here?”

“What? Nothing’s going on.”

“It’s just, you sounded upset on the phone,” Harry said. “And now you just look kind of sad. Stressed.”

“Gee thanks.”

“I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. I was just worried that something was going on.”

Penny looked up to meet Harry’s eyes. It was truly touching how concerned he was, but it also felt monumental. Like whatever she said in response would change the course of whatever was happening between them. “Thanks,” she said after a moment. “It’s just been a rough day at work after a string of rough days.”

“Want to talk about them?”

Penny sighed. “It’s my editor.”

Harry nodded. “I remember you talking about him. He’s the one that keeps shitting on your ideas.”

Penny whipped around to look at him again. “You remember?”

“Yeah, because I thought he sounded like a dick from what you told me.”

“Well, I can confirm that he is. And what he’s been doing recently is instead of letting me pitch stories, he’s assigning me his own pitches, and then even after I follow every single one of his stupid-ass rules, he still kills the story. Now, some of my sources are starting to get cagey since they don’t love sitting down for a call for an article that never materializes and I just feel like a terrible writer and it’s just hard. I feel like I’m stuck and that I’ll never get out.” She looked at Harry “Well, that’s what’s new with me. How about you?” She laughed nervously, aware she’d just spilled her guts to the man who was her mortal enemy mere weeks ago.

“I’m really sorry you’re having to deal with this,” Harry said.

“I know it’s something everyone in a creative field goes through since art is so subjective but it’s just really tough when it feels like you’re the only one experiencing it.”

“Could I read it?”

“What?”

“Your story. The one Darren just killed,” Harry prompted.

“I don’t think you’d be interested. It’s really boring about music licensing and copyright law.”

“I don’t know. I’m a musician. I have songs. Feels pretty applicable.”

Penny sighed. “I’m just -”

“Trying to come up with another excuse?”

“Fine.” Penny unlocked her phone and opened the Google Docs app, navigating to the doc with the story she’d filed earlier that day. “Here,” she said, handing Harry her phone and walking away.

“Woah, where are you going?”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you read my article. That’s just a form of cruel and unusual punishment. I’m going to wait over there.”

“No you’re not.” Harry grabbed Penny’s hand and pulled her back to his side, not letting go of her hand, even when she was standing next to him.

Penny froze. Harry didn’t appear to register what he was doing as he bowed his head and started to read the screen on the phone he held in his other hand. She stood there, next to him, watching as he read her work. The crinkle that emerged between his eyebrows as he focused, the way his mouth moved as he scanned the page, the way he nodded when he came across certain phrases.

“Latte and Americano for Penny,” the barista called.

Penny cleared her throat. “I should get those,” she said softly.

Harry looked down at the hands. “Oh, right, sorry. Didn’t mean to hold on like that.”

Penny fetched their drinks and when she returned, Harry had migrated to a small table in the corner where he finished reading the article. She didn’t want to fish for compliments, but was curious about what he thought. “Sooo,” she said, handing him the cup.

“I don’t know who your editor is but he’s an idiot for not publishing this. I heard a couple of people at Columbia discussing this last week. People would want to read this.”

“Maybe I should bring you back to the office to see if Darren will listen to you.”

“I am free for a couple more hours.”

Penny grinned. “Thanks. For…everything.”

“No, thanks needed, You’re a fantastic writer, Penny.”

“I wish Darren believed that. Hell, I wish I believed that.”

“Artists are always the most critical of themselves,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Do you know that from personal experience?”

Harry let out a long sigh and nodded. “It has been a week.”

“Making any progress?” Penny asked, trying to sound casual.

“Kind of. But the label is asking for something that’s more radio friendly and I just don’t want to give it to them. Probably because I don’t know how to give it to them,” he added under his breath.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’ve got a good team. You’re…smart.”

Harry laughed. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Penny said. “You just have like good music sense. It’s something that can’t be taught.” Harry stared at her blankly. “What? Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m just trying to remember when you started being so nice to me.”

“Shut up! You’re so stupid,” Penny said, flicking her straw wrapper at him.

“Shut up!” Harry shot back, mocking her tone as flicked the paper back towards her.

The two giggled, shooting the paper back and forth until Harry put a little too much muscle into it, causing the paper to land on the back of the woman behind Penny.

“So athletics aren’t your strong suit?” she teased.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Penny?”

Penny turned around and came face to face with Darren. Was no place safe? “H-h-hi,” she spluttered. “I was just taking a break. I’ll be back at the office soon.”

“Oh no worries,” Darren said smoothly. “I can tell you’re busy.” He eyed Harry. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, pleasure,” Harry said, extending his hand for a handshake that Darren reciprocated. “I’m Harry.”

Darren nodded, not bothering to reciprocate the introduction. “Well, I’ll see you at the office, Penny.”

“Mhmm, talk soon.” Penny waited until she was sure Darren had left the coffee shop before turning back to Harry. “Fuck, I didn’t think he’d come here. He usually hates anything that brings people joy.”

“Was that weird? That was weird,” Harry said.

“It was.” Penny hadn’t been able to interpret what Darren had been thinking when he walked over there, but she didn’t think she’d be able to pretend like it hadn’t happened when she eventually made her way back to the newsroom.

“I think you could take him though,” Harry said.

“Excuse me?”

“I think you could beat him in a fight. Especially if it was a war of words.”

“Well, we’ve had a couple of those and they typically end with me hiding somewhere to cry.” Harry didn’t say anything and just stared at Penny with an indiscernible expression on his face. “But you didn’t need to know that…” she trailed off.

“You’re good at your job, Penny. Don’t let anyone try to convince you you’re not.”

“Thanks? Not sure if I believe that coming from the guy who bullied me over my writing a couple of weeks ago, but I’ll keep that in my back pocket.” Harry shook his head. “What?” Penny pressed.

“I’m always going to feel terrible about the way I treated you,” Harry said. “It had nothing to do with you, though. It was all about me.”

“Oh?”

“What bothered me was that everything you said was true. In that review you were just pointing out things that were painfully obvious. I just had my head so far up my own ass I couldn’t see. And when I read your words, I just felt so vulnerable. Like if you noticed how guarded and cheap that album was, how many other people did too? I put everything into that it. What if that’s the best I have to offer? What if I never do anything better than that? Do you know what it feels like to question your worth and purpose like that every fucking day?”

“Of course I do. My job is to share my opinions online only to get yelled at by trolls on Twitter who think my being a woman means I don’t have a brain. Or feelings. Each day when I walk into work I have to brace myself for whatever shit Darren is going to throw at me. I have to watch men who know fuck all get chances that I deserve and anytime I try to do anything about it, I’m the one who gets punished. It’s exhausting and stresses me out more than it should, but if I woke up tomorrow and couldn’t do that, I’d be lost. It’s sadistic, but I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Harry blinked slowly. “I do,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think anyone has ever described it like that before, but that’s exactly it.”

They finished their drinks while checking their phones and it wasn’t lost on Penny how even sitting in silence with Harry felt comfortable, like they were old friends. She could have sat with him like that forever, but eventually Harry sighed, signaling the end of their time together.

“I probably need to be getting back,” he said. His face looked drawn and Penny couldn’t tell what had changed.

“Yeah, I should get back too.”

“I’ll walk you over.”

Penny got up and pushed in her chair as Harry disposed of their cups and wrappers. He met her at the door and held it open, walking alongside her when they were out on the sidewalk.

“Are you going back to the studio?” Penny asked. “Or is this a business day?”

“The studio. Hopefully things will fall together soon.”

“Well, break a leg? Good luck? I’m not sure what recording studio protocol is.”

“Any of those will work.” Harry glanced over at her. “Um, I’m assuming you’re back to work.”

“Yeah, not really sure what I’m going to work on for the rest of the day, but I’ll find something.”

“Try not to think about Darren. I mean it.”

“Well you can’t think about the studio execs when you write.”

“Deal.” Harry stopped outside Penny’s office as she pulled her ID from her pocket. “I’ll see you later.” He put his hand on her shoulder and then paused, as if it was a step too far. “Text me or something?”

Penny reached up and covered his hand with hers. “Definitely. Maybe we could do dinner sometime this week if you’re in the area.”

“Yeah, I’ll be around.”

“Great.” Harry’s hand was still on her shoulder as she awkwardly shifted towards the door. “Have a great rest of your day,” Penny said softly.

“You too,” Harry mumbled, breathless as he watched her walk inside.

***

Penny hadn’t been at her desk for more than a minute when Darren strode out of his office straight for her desk. “Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. She looked around, hoping that someone would be around to diffuse the conversation, but the newsroom was surprisingly empty.

“Penny,” Darren began, voice echoing in the empty room.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t realize you knew Harry Styles?”

“Um, that’s a recent connection. We have a mutual friend.”

“Very cool.” Darren sat on the edge of Chloe’s desk, clicking the pen in his hand. “Learn anything from him?” he asked, attempting to sound casual.

“Not really. Like I said, I only met him recently.”

“That’s a shame. Any scoop from him could be big. Keep an ear out.”

“Um, sure,” Penny said.

“Keep me in the loop on any developments.”

Penny would rather chew glass than keep Darren “in the loop” but she just nodded pleasantly, hoping her agreement would make him go away. “Will do,” she said.

“Great!” Darren hopped off of the desk and headed back to his office, nearly bumping into Chloe as she walked in, coffee and pastry in hand.

“What was that about?” Chloe asked. She wiped off the edge of her desk when she was sure Darren’s door was closed.

“So, Darren ran into me and Harry while we were getting coffee.”

“Ooh, tell me more.”

“He started pumping me for info on Harry–”

“No!” Chloe whined. “Not about Darren, about Harry. I didn’t know you all were meeting up.”

“It was an impromptu thing. He was in the area and I needed a breather.”

“And Darren saw you?”

“Yes, and I think he wants me to leverage my…knowledge…of Harry to get a scoop on something.” Penny chewed on her lip. “I feel conflicted.”

“Babe, that’s exactly what you’ve been planning this whole time! I told you it was a bad idea then and I still think it’s a bad idea. You really think any idea Darren has is a good one?” She said his name in a tone usually reserved for dog shit.

“I know, I know,” Penny moaned. “But I’m just kind of torn because getting anything on him would be great for me but it would ruin our -”

“Burgeoning love affair?” Chloe cut her off.

“No, our friendship or whatever the hell it is.”

“Pen, I think you know what the right move is here. So I’m not going to tell you. You’re better than this and you are smarter than this. Don’t be a Darren!”

Penny clicked the cap on and off of the pen as she thought about Chloe’s words. “There has to be a way I can do the best of both worlds. I mean, critics and journalists hang out with the subjects of their writing all of the time. I can make this work.”

“I will make sure not to tell you ‘told you so’ when this blows up in your face.”

“That’s why you’re my best friend.” They sat at their respective desks and worked until it was closing time. Penny said goodbye and headed to her car. As she stepped outside of the building, she impulsively turned left, taking the circuitous route that would take her in front of Full Stop’s office. As she approached the building, she squinted looking in the windows. She didn’t know what she was hoping to find but she felt an extreme sense of disappointment when she didn’t see Harry.

She finished her walk to the garage, climbing in her car and turning the radio on first thing. As she drove home, her mind wandered – to Darren, to her brother’s upcoming birthday (she still needed to find a card), to Chloe’s annual film festival – but her thoughts were mainly occupied by Harry. What was he doing at this moment? Was he still at the studio? Was he out with friends?

Her phone chimed as she pulled into her parking space. It was a text from Harry. A link to a song. She smiled as she put her headphones on to listen.

***

Are you busy?

Three little words and her heart started racing.

It had been a few days since her impromptu coffee with Harry, they’d talked even more than usual. Penny woke up to texts from Harry – songs, random musings, once, a funny YouTube video – and his messages were also what lulled her to sleep. She wasn’t sure what to call this new stage, but felt that friendship was a good start.

Penny counted to twenty before responding. Not really. What do you need?

She could see him typing in the message thread.

I’m working today and am a little stuck on something. I wanted to get your advice. A voice note followed the message. Take a listen and let me know what you think.

Penny’s phone burned hot in her hand with the knowledge of what that message contained. She rose from her desk, searched for her earbuds and rushed off to find a quiet spot in the office to listen to the note. In the dim hallway that led the kitchen, she pushed her earbuds in and turned up the volume before pressing play.

It was an unfinished demo, but despite the rough nature of the recording, she could tell this song was something special. It started off with a strong drum section before Harry’s vocals came in. His higher register, smoother than ever. She closed her eyes, Even with shitty discount earbuds she could feel the beat pulsing, throbbing, echoing within her. It was magic. When it finished playing, she hit play again, focusing on the lyrics this time through. Phrases about shining, stepping into the light, recurred throughout, and while it was beyond her to speculate the meaning of the lyrics, they felt deeply personal. The kind of personal that everyone could relate to. The hallmark of a good song.

She listened a third time for good measure before typing out her response. Initial reaction, I love it. On more listens, it feels like the bass and drums might be a little too much. There’s an intimacy to this song and you don’t want to lose that. Find a way to balance the two and you’ve got a hit.

Harry’s reply came quickly. You’re exactly right! Thanks!

Any time.

“Penny?”

She looked up from her phone to see Darren in front of her, mug in hand, clearly on his way to get some of the paltry excuse for coffee kept in the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

She searched her brain for a reason she’d be standing in a dark hallway with her headphones. “I was taking a call,” she finally said. “It was a little noisy in the main room and I just needed some quiet.”

“OK, well that’s what we have the call booths for. Keep that in mind.” Darren stared at her and Penny prayed he wouldn’t be able to sniff out the real reason she was there.

“I should go,” she said, dashing towards her desk.

“All good?” Chloe asked, taking in the panic on Penny’s phase.

“You-know-who almost caught me with a demo the other you-know-who sent me,” Penny said, voice low.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, it was a little too close for comfort.”

“Why?”

Penny turned around in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s think this through,” Chloe said. “Why are you so concerned about Darren finding out what you know?”

“Because it’s an ethics issue.”

“Why is it an ethics issue?”

“Because I know Harry. We’ve gotten drinks together.”

“OK, yes,” Chloe prompted. “But how is that any different from you getting drinks with Paul at a networking event and then quoting him in a piece? Or when you went to dinner with those investors that were funding that new streaming startup and then wrote a story?”

“It’s just different. My brother’s best friend didn’t introduce me to them.”

“But he did introduce you to Janice and you quoted her.”

“I-that’s not the same and you know it.”

“You want to know what I think?” Chloe asked.

“Not particularly.”

“I think that three weeks ago you thought this scheme was a great idea but then you actually spent time with Harry and now you care about him and you don’t want him to know you were using him and you also don’t want to risk your reputation.”

Penny scoffed. “You are so off base.”

“Am I? You haven’t looked me in the eye since you sat down and your hands are shaking. You’re lying and we both know it.”

“It’s not what you think,” Penny said. “I didn’t want Darren to know because if he gets ahold of the story he’ll probably kill it and I don’t want that to happen. I’m saving it for one of our editorial meetings so I can have Skylar there as backup.” She hoped the lie sounded more convincing than it felt.

“Sure,” Chloe said. “Do you want to get drinks after work tonight?” she asked, smartly changing the subject.

Penny nodded in agreement, but inside she was wondering why she was so scared to tell her best friend the truth.

***

Penny paced in her kitchen keeping an eye on her phone on the counter, willing it to light up with a new notification. It had been three days since Harry had shared his demo, forcing her to confront the emotions that had been brewing inside of her for the past few months.

She’d reached out a couple of times. First to ask how the rest of his studio session went, and then to share some more songs and music videos she liked. And when those went unanswered, she reached out again, asking if everything was OK only to be met with radio silence. She was fairly certain that nothing was wrong, but concern lurked in the back of her mind, and after a few more minutes of pacing, she grabbed her phone and keys and headed for her car.

She scrolled through her messages until she found Harry’s address which she programmed into her GPS. When she pulled up to the gate, she pressed the buzzer. Then hit it again. And again. And again. Finally, she heard Harry’s voice through the crackly speaker.

“Hello?” His voice sounded different than usual and she couldn’t be sure if it was because of the speaker or something else.

“Uh, it’s Penny. I hadn’t heard from you and was a little nervous since we were supposed to go to that show tonight?”

“Oh, fuck. Come on in.”

She heard a loud buzz and then the gates parted, allowing her to drive in. She glanced at the landscaping as she drove up the path. It was nice and well-maintained, definitely not by him, and she appreciated the views the property offered. She put the car in park in front of the garage. Harry was standing on the front stoop waiting for her.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked, voice gravely even without the interference of the intercom. “I came down with this spring flu or something. I’ve been out of commission for a few days.”

“Don’t apologize. I was just worried.” Shit. That wasn’t what she meant to say. “Like just since we had these tickets. I wasn’t sure if you still wanted them or…”

“Yeah, of course. I honestly don’t think I’m up for a show tonight. I’m better, but still not 100%.”

“No, I get it.” Penny rocked back and forth on her feet. “Do you want some company?”

Harry paused. “What about the show?”

“One of my friends had been asking about the tickets. I can give them to her.” It felt wrong to go if Harry wasn’t there, not that she’d ever admit that to him.

“Uh, sure,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Come on in. It’s a little messy.”

Penny followed him inside, toeing off her shoes in the front hall. She padded behind Harry as he led her into a den. The large sectional was covered in pillows and blankets and he cleared a spot off on one side of the couch, making room for Penny.

“Make yourself at home,” Harry said, a sniffle punctuating his statement.

“Can I get you anything?” Penny asked.

“You're my guest. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“But you’re sick.”

Harry shrugged. “There’s water, juice, beer, and wine in the kitchen. There might be some ginger ale left as well.”

“Ooh my favorite.”

“Help yourself. I’ll have one too.”

Penny grabbed a couple of cans from the fridge, trying not to gawk at the gourmet kitchen around her. “Ice?” she called over her shoulder.

“No thanks.”

She handed Harry one of the cans and they popped the tabs in synchronicity, grinning at their timing.

“Should we be drinking to your health?” Penny asked, before sipping from the can.

Harry grinned. “I can use any and all well wishes. This just knocked me out. I can’t remember the last time I was that sick.” He shuddered as if reliving a traumatic memory.

“It must have been pretty rough. I was worried about not hearing from you.” That was a normal thing to say, right? Penny was suddenly second guessing her words. “I mean just because we had the plans for the show,” she quickly explained.

“No, I apologize. I wasn’t really with it for a couple of days and was pretty useless. Thankfully I had some people looking out for me.”

At that moment, there was nothing Penny wanted to know more than who these people were. “That’s nice. I’m assuming Jeff stopped by?”

Harry nodded. “And Glenne. They brought me some soup and bread. Glenne is Jeff’s girlfriend,” he clarified.

“Oh.”

“And now you are stopping by. I’ve clearly got a village looking after me.”

“Um, yeah.” Penny didn’t know what was wrong with her. On the drive over, she’d been filled with thoughts of what she’d say when she saw Harry, but now that she was with him her mind was blank. “How does it work when you're sick? Like do you have to take a sick day?” What the fuck kind of question was that, she thought to herself. She took a sip of ginger ale.

“Uh, like not really. Sometimes I try to work through it but since we aren’t on a hard deadline I just tried to take it easy. Figured taking a few days off might also help me get in a better place creatively.” He stroked his chin. “Not sure that worked but I guess we’ll find out soon.”

Penny stared at Harry until she realized it was her turn to speak. “I do a similar thing when I have writer’s block.”

Harry looked at her questioningly. “Get sick?”

“No, like, try to take a break.” She took another sip of her drink. “This is weird. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m just going to head out.” She rose from the couch.

“Why is it weird?” Harry asked, voice still strained from his illness. “We were going to the show tonight, why can’t we just hang out here instead? Watch a movie or something? Play a board game?”

Penny laughed. “A board game?”

“I happen to be a next level Scrabble player.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nodded. “And I can prove it to you if you’ll stay and play with me.”

Penny rubbed her thumb along her can, catching a drop of condensation. What did this mean – the two of them hanging out together without a concert or shop talk as a buffer. The two of them alone in Harry’s house altered the stakes in a significant way. The lines between source and friend and whatever else was lurking in the background were significantly blurred and she felt like she was playing with fire. “Sure,” she said. “Just let me send these tickets to Chloe so someone can make use of them.”

“Great! I’ll find the game.”

Just as Penny pressed the transfer button, Harry reappeared, a worn and well-loved Scrabble box in his hand. “Get comfortable, I’m serious,” he said, easing down onto the floor and setting the Scrabble board up on the coffee table.

Penny shrugged off her cardigan, laying it on the couch behind her before joining Harry on the floor. “How does this work?”

“You’ve never played?” he asked incredulously as Penny shook her head. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know,” Penny laughed. “I just never played. I’m honestly not a huge board game person.”

“I can’t believe I let you into my house,” Harry deadpanned. “Not a board game person! Madness!”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and teach me how to play.”

Harry started explaining the rules as finished setting up the pieces and Penny tried not to giggle at his excitement and the way he tripped over his words as he laid everything out for her. It wasn’t a complicated game and Penny quickly caught on, relishing the few times she was able to land a double or triple word score, much to Harry’s chagrin.

“I thought you said you hadn’t played before!” he exclaimed.

“I haven’t!”

“How are you so good?”

“Harry, I write for a living and it’s a word game, not fucking brain surgery.”

“Beginner’s luck!”

“Or maybe I’m just better than you!”

They were in the middle of their second game before Penny realized that they hadn’t said a thing about their jobs. No mention of new albums or concerts or studio executives or editors. And the conversation managed to feel easy. It felt like she was with someone she’d known forever, and she loved how comforting that felt.

As they were finishing up the game, Penny could see that Harry’s energy was waning. His laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore and he seemed a little dazed after a couple of coughing fits. “Would you want to switch to a movie or something?” she suggested gently.

“That would be nice,” he relented after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m going to make some tea before, though. Would you like some?”

“Sure, I can help.”

Harry looked like he was about to protest but after glancing at Penny, he abandoned whatever he was about to say, gesturing for her to lead the way. They stood side by side in the kitchen as the water boiled, and Penny tried not to shiver when Harry’s hand grazed hers as he handed her a teabag. Beverages in hand, they made their way back to the couch. Harry stretched out, fishing for the remote among the cushions and Penny plopped down across from him. Harry flicked through the various films available turning to Penny every so often to gauge her opinion before finally settling on a comedy they’d both seen before.

For the first half of the film, they made each other laugh, reciting the memorable lines along with the actors on screen, but after an hour or so, Penny heard an odd noise coming from where Harry was sprawled. His head was resting on the arm of the couch and he had his arms folded over his chest, as if he was trying to curl into himself. His chest rose and fell evenly as soft snores came from his lips. The moment felt too intimate and Penny felt as though she should avert her eyes. But try as she might, she couldn’t.

This was the Harry she’d gotten to know over the past few weeks, the one who was vulnerable and second guessed himself and who cared about things so deeply he let them consume him. The one who looked out for those around him and was surprised when people did the same for him. The Harry who wanted to be her friend.

In that moment, everything clicked for Penny and she felt like she was seeing clearly for the first time in weeks. She couldn’t betray Harry. She’d figure out another way to deal with Darren and find the career changing scoop, but she couldn’t risk losing Harry. If she was this concerned about not hearing from him for three days, what would happen if he was out of her life forever?

Penny wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with her newfound clarity, but being in Harry’s presence in the wake of the revelation felt suffocating. She needed to get out of his house. Gingerly, she reached over to turn the television off before placing a blanket over his sleeping form. She grabbed her cardigan and shoved her feet in her shoes only to open the door and come face to face with Jeff.

“Heeeyyy,” he said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi!” Penny said quickly, stepping out onto the porch and gently closing the door behind her. “How are you?”

“Fine. I-I don’t mean to be rude but I’m just confused as to what you’re doing here.” Jeff laughed lightly.

“So Harry and I were supposed to go to a concert tonight but I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days and when I texted him about meeting up he didn’t respond and I was a little worried so I came over to check on him.” The words all came out in a weird, breathy, rushed whisper.

“Right,” Jeff said slowly. “Why are you whispering?”

“Because Harry’s asleep.” Penny’s eyes widened hearing her own words. “He fell asleep. After we played Scrabble. And watched a movie. I think he’s still on the mend.”

“You hung out with him?”

Penny nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t plan on staying but he invited me in and it seemed like he wanted company sooo…”

“Yeah, no that’s great,” Jeff said. “I’ve just been checking in on him on my way home each night and I know some others have too but I was just surprised to see you here.” He grinned. “Quite different from how things were a month ago.”

“Mhmm,” was all Penny could get out. “I should probably go.” She darted around Jeff and half walked half jogged down the path, fishing for her keys in her bag while she did so. When she managed to unlock the door, she gave Jeff a casual wave before driving off.

“They just need to fuck,” Jeff said to himself, shaking his head before heading inside.

Harry was jolted awake by the sound of the front door closing, and looked around the room confused as to where his companion had gone. “Penny?” he rasped.

“Nope, just me,” Jeff said, poking his head around the corner. “Don’t mean to disappoint you.”

“You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Jeffrey. Penny was just here earlier and I just assumed...”

“I know, I ran into her on the way out.”

Harry frowned as he ran his hand through his messy curls. “She left without saying goodbye.”

Jeff shrugged. “I guess. She said you were asleep and looked like she was in a rush. Maybe she had better things to do than watch the guy who refuses to admit he’s in love with her sleep for two hours.”

“I -”

“Don’t fight it, H. We all see it.”

“There’s nothing to see, Jeffrey.”

Jeff sat down on the edge of the coffee table looking Harry directly in the eye. “H, I’ve known you a long time and because of that, I’d like to think I know you better than most. Something’s been going on with you this year. You’ve been…off. You said Japan was going to reset you but it didn’t seem like it worked. I mean the way you treated Penny those first couple of times.” He exhaled. “That wasn’t you. But the past few weeks, it’s like a switch has been flipped. You’re writing again, you seem happy, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happened after you’ve gotten to know Penny.”

Harry refused to meet Jeff’s eyes, keeping his gaze on the wall behind him. “I feel like Penny understands me in a way no one else does. It’s like I don’t even have to explain things to her. She just gets it, gets me. But that’s it.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

Jeff pursed his lips. “So if she wanted to go to dinner and then…I don’t know…have sex after you’d say no? Since you all are ‘just friends.’” He made air quotes with his fingers as he said the last two words. “If she said you should call it a date instead of dinner, you wouldn’t want that?”

“Yeah.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that, H.”

Harry turned his head and looked Jeff dead in the eye. “Penny and I are just friends and I don’t want to sleep with her. Or date her.”

Jeff held his gaze. “You’ve always been a shit liar, H.”

***

Penny couldn’t sleep that night, her mind replaying her day with Harry again and again. She knew what she needed to do now, but that didn’t make things any easier.

She couldn’t move forward with the article…that was a given. But Harry…she didn’t know what to do about him. There was no way he could feel the same about her. He just couldn’t. And to put herself out there? Be that vulnerable with him? Now that was a recipe for disaster.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep. But as she counted sheep, all she could think of was how much she wished Harry were lying next to her.

***

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#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles ff #harry styles series #harry styles x ofc #harry fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic

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asimplearchivist · 6 months

Text

do you ever think about the fact that Grovyle was possibly and most likely in denial about the fact that he had already permanently lost the hero?

(putting the rest under a read more because I snowballed)

because even though in the future he tells Dusknoir that his partner is still in the past out there somewhere and that they would still go after the time gears and even though it’s most definitely a bluff (that gets immediately debunked by Dusknoir revealing that the hero was right there the whole time) he still had to realize that he hadn’t come across any traces of the hero.

right?

because he wouldn’t have had any idea that amnesia would have come into play after they got separated and he would’ve been looking for and waiting to bump into the hero while traveling to gather each time gear and I can only imagine him hoping that he’d find the place already frozen and empty to indicate that the hero had at least already passed through and been there already even if he hadn’t seen them and couldn’t find them but did he realize that by the time he got to Crystal Cave’s time gear that the hero had just disappeared seemingly off the face of the earth and did he start to lose hope that he’d ever see them again and was he simply refusing to believe the possibility that he might have lost them without ever knowing where they went or what happened to them?

and then he gets his ass beat by this random Exploration Team and then Dusknoir who he’d thought he’d managed to avoid so far shows up and then he gets captured and then he almost gets killed multiple times and then he has to help this random ass team out of the future back to their time and not really thinking about it too deeply because he’s got more important things on his mind because he’s got to get back to the past and get the time gears and prevent the planet’s paralysis

and he’s so distracted and caught up in his mission like it’s the only thing he has left holding him together to the point that he’s competent oblivious to Celebi and then everything goes even more to shit and they’re cornered and blocked off from the Passage of Time and Primal Dialga shows up and Grovyle’s faltering wavering resolve finally cracks and shatters and his last potentially dying hope is that his partner is still out there somewhere because that’s all he has left to hold on to and he boasts on their behalf believing with his whole heart that they couldn’t fail

and then all of a sudden Dusknoir of all Pokemon pipes up and elects to inform him at that exact inoppurtune moment that Grovyle’s long lost partner had been right there under his nose the entire time and that Dusknoir had turned them against him and that Grovyle had grievously wounded them completely ignorant to the fact that they no longer knew him no longer recognized him and now has a partner whom their Dimensional Scream works so much better with

and then all of a sudden he has hope again but it’s so small and fragile because how in the hell are you all supposed to get out of this and your new partner comes up with a plan even Grovyle couldn’t in the heat and intensity of the moment after he’s so drained from running and running and running all by himself being accused of being a criminal being chased and hunted and attacked because he’s running out of time

and then by some miracle you three make it back in one piece and then you’re there you’re alive but you’ve lost everything you once had all your knowledge and memories and willpower to accomplish your suicide mission and even though it hurts indescribably to realize that things will most likely never be the same never be like it used to be and never again would you even look at or speak to him the same way he still has you

and now he’s determined never to let you go again you’ll have him until the life is pried from his body and he’s just so so so relieved that he can hardly stand it because now he can afford to admit to himself that he had been terrified that he’d lost you and had already started to grieve you before your time but then he has to leave you with your new better trusted partner to make sure Dusknoir couldn’t stop your plans

and even though he’s telling you “though the parting hurts” meaning you’ll have to make the decision to sacrifice yourself for the greater good at the expense of leaving your new partner all alone he also means “this wasn’t how this was supposed to go I was supposed to be there with you I didn’t want to be alone I never ever thought I’d lose you so but we’ll lose so much more if I don’t do this if we don’t do this and I’m sorry that it all had to end like this”

and then he goes through everything else fighting until his last breath trying to help you as much as he can even though he’s deceived and almost dies the closest he’s ever been and he cannot fathom the stakes at which everything rides in the balance but then the winds start to blow and the ice starts to drip and the sun starts to rise and he’s done it you’ve done it everything isn’t lost and at the very least he’s not alone while he fades into nothingness

but as he’s brought inexplicably back from the brink by ‘a higher power’ and his first thought is that same hope flooding back that he’d get to see you again that you’re still alive that you’ve both survived despite the improbable odds set against you and the hope you summon in him is so palpable you inspire it in every single person around you and you hold so much power without even realizing it and how could he ever forget you when you mean so much to him?

do you ever think about that? no? because I do. every waking second of every damn day this wood gecko haunts my thoughts.

#this got way longer than I intended #wow #whoops #pokemon #pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #eos #pmd eos #explorers of sky #pokemon mystery dungeon explorers #pmd2 #pmd 2 #grovyle #meta #long post #mine #fisara’s scrawlings

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scaranation · 1 year

Note

hey? how are u? i hope ur doin well.... I really love your writing....can u do a little headcanon for me... where y/n and alhaitham watch a horror movie together???

HESYESYEA THIS IS SO CUTE ❤️❤️ this might be a bit short but i added as much as i could think of (i need to stop writing so many alhaitham fics but this man has been on my mind as well 😭)

༊*·˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Pairing: Alhaitham x GN!reader

Content: fluff, comfort, minor horror scene descriptions, established relationship

Let’s be honest, there’s no way Alhaitham would be scared by a horror movie. He’d condescendingly point out all the rotoscoping errors, scoff at the cheap jump scares and scrutinise the plot points with the intensity of a movie critic.

While you were shaking beside him, hands clammy with sweat, he’d muse about the feasibility of the scenes.

“Blood splatters mostly away from the point of impact, even in this very far-fetched situation wherein…”

“Haitham…” You didn’t hear a word he said, only clutching onto his arm as the camera showed a shot of a grotesquely mangled body. A particularly vivid close-up of grey-clouded eyes rimmed with mutilated flesh had you recoiling, pressing yourself closer into Alhaitham’s side.

He’d reassure you with more facts, assuming that you’d take comfort in logic and reasoning as he did. Secretly enjoying your form pressed closely to his, Alhaitham would criticise the verisimilitude of the movie with a greater fervour in an attempt to calm you down. He couldn’t understand why you feared something that wasn’t real, although he reasoned that you could be more susceptible to biological cues. The tense music was potentially a large contributing factor, Alhaitham decided.

He’d run soothing circles over the back of your hands, murmuring what he thought were words of reassurance as you buried your face into his neck at a particularly tense scene. If you were the one who picked the movie, expect to be teased a little - Alhaitham wouldn’t be able to resist prodding at your frightened demeanour with an amused grin.

Normally, Alhaitham rejected physical touch. But how could he say no, when you were so scared? He’d let you stay in his arms for a while, seeking comfort in his broad shoulders and familiar heat. If you had your face resting near his chest, you’d feel the low vibrations of his chuckles each time you jumped at a scene change.

Whilst your heart would beat in an absolutely unhinged terror, his heart would thrum with love, briefly stopping his movie critiquing to admire your wide-eyed expression. If you seemed like you couldn’t handle it, he’d offer to turn the movie off (or leave the cinema, if you were in one) - Alhaitham was never the kind of person to keep you somewhere against your will. Once he was done with the subtle teasing, his attention would be turned to making sure you were comfortable. Even if he was terrible at that sort of thing, you found his failed attempts at reassurance to be quite endearing.

Watching a horror movie with Alhaitham was probably both the best and worst date idea, but he wasn’t going to complain - there wasn’t much more to ask for when you were nestled against him, so close that he could hear your synced heart palpitations.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham oneshot #genshin headcannons #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham #fluff #alhaitham imagine #i still tag like an ao3 writer #someone help

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lizhly-writes · 1 month

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hiya.

First impression of Wu Youxuan: nothing.

This is what Chen Liwei thinks of most of his classmates. Log down the name, remember the face, pick out their impressions toward him --- hostile, neutral, favorable --- and save it for later. ‘Wu Youxuan’ settles firmly into the neutral category and then Chen Liwei forgets about his existence the rest of the time.

Until he doesn’t.

The thing is, Wu Youxuan genuinely thinks that Chen Liwei is going to kill him.

It’s a little special, considering that nobody ever thinks he’s serious when he says he’s going to beat people up. He does it, and there’s this shock of “wow, the school grass is so much more powerful/domineering than we thought”, before it all goes back to the status quo of “surely a little white face like him couldn’t really put up a fight and everyone else who tried were just weaklings and/or we just had a bad day and we’ll definitely get him next time.”

It isn’t like Chen Liwei is invincible, but he’s certainly better than their expectations of him. He surprises them every time. Even if it’s the same people he’s fighting.

Memory of a fucking goldfish.

And then there’s Wu Youxuan, who, despite the fact that Chen Liwei has barely even shared the same airspace as him, is overwhelmingly convinced that Chen Liwei will beat him down into mincemeat.

Admittedly, yeah, at one point, Chen Liwei was absolutely going to do that. But first of all: that was a misunderstanding. Second of all, Chen Liwei honestly thought that Wu Youxuan was going to forget, because that’s what happens every fucking time Chen Liwei tries to make threats. It’s just “haha, you wouldn’t really” or “do you really think something like you could ever do anything” or “nice joke! I didn’t know you could make jokes!”

No one ever fucking takes him seriously.

Except, for some reason, Wu Youxuan.

Wu Youxuan is afraid, and Chen Liwei isn’t ashamed to say that he likes it.

Hey. He’s never claimed to be a good person. School forum gossip that he’ll soften if the right girl comes to tame him? That he might be a jerk, but deep inside, he’s got a heart of gold? Lies. He’s jerk all the way down.

Chen Liwei demands unreasonable things from Wu Youxuan, and Wu Youxuan keeps giving them to him. What, as if he thought it was perfectly normal to ask some random classmate to help him beat up other people? Like Chen Liwei is that far removed from regular social etiquette? Come on.

Is this what it’s like to be Qi Mingtao? Shit, he might understand why that guy goes on power trips so often, then. This is fun.

Chen Liwei doesn’t really expect Wu Youxuan to stay afraid. Chen Liwei isn’t so unreasonable that he’ll try to keep him that way. It’s not like he hates Wu Youxuan enough for that. So Chen Liwei keeps making threats, and he keeps not following through on them, and if it were Chen Liwei dealing with this kind of behavior, he’d figure out the pattern and then fuck off.

Except Wu Youxuan doesn’t do that.

“I’m not actually going to beat you up if you don’t listen to me,” Chen Liwei outright says.

“Fuck off,” Wu Youxuan says. He’s still swinging that baseball bat that Chen Liwei gave him, proper form and only getting more proper. Getting better, getting stronger, like Chen Liwei wanted him to, and that’s the thing: why is he still doing what Chen Liwei wants?

Even after all of this, even after Wu Youxuan’s grown a spine, he still gives into whatever unreasonable thing Chen Liwei demands of him. Isn’t that something.

“Are you just used to listening to me by now?” Chen Liwei says. “Fucking weirdo.”

Wu Youxuan glares up at him. “I,” he says, almost over-enunciating the word, “am going to beat your face in.”

It’s a threat. In general, Chen Liwei can’t even remember how many times he’s been threatened. This sort of thing happens everyday, and it usually only pisses him off.

Chen Liwei surprises himself when he ends up laughing instead.

Fucking hell, is this what it’s like being in a good mood? He hasn’t had one of those in a while.

“You,” Chen Liwei says, grin still pulling weirdly at his face, “are going to have to try harder than that.”

#my writing #chen liwei #wu youxuan

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tsarisfanfiction · 2 months

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Champion

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Kayla She always said she was going to make it to the Olympics, and aged eighteen, it finally happened. TOApril day 5 - For the Best, and maybe I twisted that prompt a little bit here but Kayla deserves to be the best so here we go, ft. some background very proud fathers!

It seemed stupid, being so nervous. There wasn't anything to be nervous of, not really. Kayla was an amazing archer and she knew it - she couldn't not know it, with her upbringing, with her fathers.

It was just another target to hit.

The fact that it was in a different country, a different continent, and there were more eyes on her than ever before shouldn’t mean anything. A target was a target was a target, and she’d been able to hit gold every time without fail at far greater distances than this since she was fourteen. Aged eighteen, with a far more powerful recurve bow than most people expected to look at her, a mere seventy metres was nothing.

Except this was the Olympics. This was Kayla’s dream, the thing she’d aimed for since the first time she’d held a bow – and Kayla didn’t miss her shots.

This was the world stage, with laurels and medals and broken records waiting for her. The current women’s world record was 680. Kayla could beat that. Kayla had beaten that, training in Camp Half-Blood, where mortals couldn’t see her and would never know.

Part of her thrived on that, the little bit of showmanship flair she’d inherited from her dad.

(It had been one of the things she’d shared with Michael, for the scant few months she’d known him. The inborn talent to show off, to settle comfortably into the self-assuredness that she could do whatever she set her mind to, and be good at it.

Would Michael be proud of her, for making it to the Olympics? Would he be proud of her if she won?

She thought he would. She hoped he would. He’d been rough, didn’t understand how to be gentle, and she knew she’d only known him while he was grieving and stressed, but he’d been her big brother, and he’d grinned whenever she shot better than she had before. She couldn’t imagine him not being proud of her.)

These mortals didn’t know her. Well, some did, because Da had been an Olympic coach for years. The Canadian team had watched her grow up, aside from the years she disappeared to what they’d always claimed was a boarding school – and she knew they’d feared her skills hadn’t had a chance to bloom away from her coach of a father, because they didn’t know that camp meant archery training as often as she could get away with, that there were days she’d been at the range from dawn til dusk just because she could.

But most of them didn’t. She was an unknown, to the world stage. Barely any competitions to her name, and even less of them recent. By all rights, if she was someone else looking at her, she wouldn’t expect much. Clearly something got her on the team, and it wasn’t nepotism because Da didn’t do that and Dad wouldn’t belittle her like that, either, but the other archers, the coaches from the other countries, the audience didn’t know that.

They didn’t know where she came from. There were expectations, of course, because the name Knowles held weight in the world of archery – Da had worked hard for that – but no knowledge.

Kayla shouldn’t be nervous, because this was easy, she had made far harder shots when she was eleven and crying because she didn’t know if her favourite big brother was alive or dead.

But it was the Olympics and there were nerves creeping into her chest that had no right to be there, because this was her dream and how dare something as unnecessary as nerves interrupt it, but of course they were. She hadn’t expected anything else, not really.

Da was on the sidelines, a distance that felt far further than the target ahead of her even though it was actually closer. She was pretty certain Dad was somewhere in the crowd, too, and Artemis might be as well. Not for her – or at least, not exclusively, in the case of Apollo – but because this was their domain and Dad had told her enough stories of Olympic competitions over the years that she knew he always went.

Why wouldn’t he?

That didn’t matter, though. That couldn’t matter. What mattered was that Kayla had one arrow left to shoot, and then her Olympic journey was over, one way or another.

Because she wasn’t so unknown to the crowds watching her, really, or the world, because she’d battled her way through all of the stages to this one. The last one.

Whoever scored better here got the gold medal, and Kayla wanted it.

Eyes were on her, the upcoming, unknown archer with the record breaking score (not perfect, because Kayla was holding back. She couldn’t stand out here too much, had to still seem realistic to all those watching mortals, and no-one scored perfectly in all of their shoots at the Olympics. That just didn’t happen. She’d ease that in slowly, next time and the time after, getting better and better until everyone knew her name and she held records that could never be beaten, only matched). The official Olympic record was 680 for women, although the unofficial record was actually 682, and Kayla was one last arrow away from breaking the men’s record of 700.

She would do it; she knew she would. This arrow would hit a perfect bullseye and catapult her to 703 – a far cry from the perfect 720 she had done at camp (had done several times at camp), but a broken record that put her name on the map without letting room for cheating allegations to take root.

(There would be some regardless, Da warned her. Not everyone was gracious in defeat, and she was making waves breaking the records like this. There was nothing to find, nothing to prove, because the only way Kayla could be considered a cheater was because she was the daughter of Apollo, a demigod born directly of the god of archery himself, and she refused to consider that cheating when it was just who she was.)

It was almost anticlimactic, in the end.

A perfect bullseye, the best arrow she’d shot all Olympics, because she’d been holding back but couldn’t do that to herself completely, if she was going to win, she was going to win, and the world exploded.

The immediate aftermath was a blur. There was Da, jumping up and down in sheer delight and barely waiting for her to put her bow down before he was swinging her around as though she was still a little girl. There was handshakes and hugs and congratulations from the other archers, no-one begrudging her score because you could be disappointed in yourself, in archery, but never in others doing well.

There was microphones and flashing cameras and the Canadian flag draped across her shoulders, and so, so, slowly, the realisation that she’d done it, that Kayla Knowles was the Olympic champion, the new World Record holder, and the youngest to do all of that, too.

There was Dad, too, making his way down and seamlessly merging in with the team even though he wasn’t one, and a flash of silver somewhere up in the stands was Artemis, too, although Kayla didn’t expect the goddess to congratulate her anyway, so she wasn’t bothered when it was only her father that came down to give her a massive hug and beam with pride. Her siblings hadn’t made the journey, not because they didn’t want to but because they had responsibilities and there were so many of them it would’ve been impractical, but she knew they’d been watching from wherever they were and made sure to wave directly at all the cameras for them.

But it was the medal around her neck that finally brought her back to clarity, the Canadian flag high behind her, flanked by the South Korean flags of the silver- and bronze-medallists, and O Canada playing for everyone to hear.

She’d done it.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril 2024 #tsari writes fanfiction #kayla knowles #darren knowles #pjo apollo

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aurguries · 1 year

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to be all-seeing

pairing: odin x reader author's note: odin and heimdall were both such standouts for me in the new game and i just had to write something involving them both and what better way to tie them together than write about heimdall's mother? i've taken some creative liberties here, and this is just my take on how stuff might have gone down. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! warnings: gaslighting, dubious consent, manipulation, emotional/psychological abuse, just all-fucker being an all around prick

Why here of all places?

With everything that’s happening — the looming threat of Ragnarök, that pesky Greek god and the boy by his side, the mask and its stubbornly hidden secrets, his vengeful ex, the impending doom of his death — perhaps he might have been thinking of simpler times.

Perhaps he might have been thinking of you.

And of course, that gift of yours.

It’s been some time since his last visit, since he last had either Huginn or Muninn keep an eye on you. Easier to pretend you never existed, though at times, a fool’s errand. You did, after all, spend several lifetimes with him. Then there’s your kid together, a walking reminder of your former union.

Sometimes, Odin wishes things could have been different, but here you are. And here he is.

You catch sight of him first.

Or maybe you saw him coming.

"What are you doing here?"

Fimbulwinter has taken its toll on Midgard, and it looks just as bleak and miserable as he remembers it to be from his last visit with Thor. With that, you — you make a most lovely sight in this dump.

Maybe it was cruel of him to bind you to a place such as this, among lesser people and where monsters lurked in every corner. Then again, he’s reminded that, just like his Frigg, you are here by your own fault.

It’s not that you mean nothing to him, you just … well, you just needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all.

Clearly, you still don’t see it that way.

"Come to gloat?" you inquire bitterly, standing in the doorway of the modest cottage you now regard as home.

If only you hadn’t been so goddamn stubborn, you could have been so very far away from … all this. Still living comfortably in the lodge he built, with servants to cater to your every whim, and the unforgiving winter nothing but a frigid tale to be told to you in passing gossip by members of his court. But you’ve always insisted upon your own way, upon your own … principles.

And so, you’ve brought this on yourself.

"You tell me," is all he says.

And yet, a challenge. You recognise it too. He looks at you, watches your gaze narrow. When you finally speak, your tone is as frosty as the snow that surrounds you both.

"I don’t do that anymore."

Odin merely shrugs. "Pity. Real gift you had."

This seems to irritate you further.

"What are you here for this time? Why now?" comes your impatient demand. And yet, he detects an undercurrent of hurt. It’s been … too long perhaps, since his last visit. You might have thought he’d forgotten about you.

A beat passes. He sees realisation dawn, anger fade. You start to smile, an almost gleeful edge to your voice as you guess, "Oh, this is about that prophecy, isn’t it? You don’t know what else to do. Or perhaps it is about that mask of yours. You always did spend so much time pouring over it."

"Maybe I’m here for you," he muses.

"You’re here for my gift," you correct sharply, displeasure returning. "I don’t need it to tell me that."

With that, you turn on your heel without another word.

Soon he’s trailing after you, shutting the door behind him, feeling the last gust of cold air disappear. A watchful eye takes to surveying the room, scanning for signs of anyone else other than you. The fact that he even has to look sours his mood just a little. Admittedly, he has been a little lax with your punishment lately.

"I see you’ve been decorating," he observes, taking a seat at a table you’ve set up in the centre of the room. Odin looks to you, tone light. "You got anything to drink?"

"Just tell me what you want this time."

You remain standing, ever watchful, ever cautious, seeming so very far away from him. Not impossible to reach though. He always has a way of getting to you, somehow. You’ve missed him, despite how vehemently you might deny it.

Still, you’ve changed, haven’t you? Even more so than when he last saw you. Midgard’s influence, no doubt. It never does you any good. You don’t seem to need him as much anymore. Perhaps you never did.

He’s not sure he likes the thought of that.

"No how have you been?”

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air.

You stare at him wordlessly.

He relents with a sigh.

"I’m sorry, that’s not fair. Expecting you to welcome me back. You’re angry at me for not visiting, I get that."

Odin gazes at you intently.

"Unless … this isn’t about that at all, and you’re still angry about what happened." He shrugs. "Yeah sure, I may have … overreacted, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did what I thought was best. For you."

Something flickers in your expression.

The words come quietly.

"You always say that."

"And I mean it every time."

"I wish I could believe you."

"You can," he coaxes tenderly.

"Can I?"

He inches closer towards you, voice low and reassuring. "Don’t you know I’ll always be here for you? That I’ll always care for you? Didn’t I promise you that?”

"You promised me many things."

"And I intend on keeping those promises," he murmurs. "All you gotta do, is trust me."

He reaches out to you, but you immediately draw back, voice tense.

"Just — get on with whatever it is you’re here for this time."

He leans back, unfazed by this … contempt you make a show of. After all, you did this the last time too, and the other visits that came before. Even so, he’s still here, isn’t he?

"Alright, if that’s what you want."

A moment passes and you take a seat, unable to look at him.

It’s almost … satisfying. Knowing that even after all this time, his words still have the capacity to affect you. And why should they not?

You must still love him.

Didn’t he give you everything?

Who would you be without him? Where would you be? Who else would have brought you back to Asgard if not him? He raised you to be a queen. And just like the wife who came after you, you stupidly threw it all away. And for what?

You chose to be nothing.

At the end of it all, perhaps you do deserve to live in this wasteland. It’s the only way you’ll learn to behave. To learn your place. And once you do, it’ll be just like old times. You by his side, and your gift at his disposal. The All-Father and his little prophetess.

"You want to know why I’m here," he begins.

"I assume it’s about the prophecy."

"Yeah, something along the lines of that." He pauses, gives you a look. "You remember that … god, the one you told me was headed to Jötunheim."

"What about him?"

"You remember his son as well? There’s something the boy might be able to help me with."

You stiffen, expression hardening.

"I want nothing to do with this if it means harming a child."

"No one’s talking about killing the kid," he retorts with a snort, rolling his eyes. "You’re being dramatic."

"Am I?" you wonder coolly.

"Look, all I want is for him to help me with my mask. With enough time, he just might be able to piece it together."

"And so you want me to tell you if this will happen, if it will play out how you want it to."

"And here I thought you had abandoned your gift."

"I did. You’ve only had me do this many times, but this time I won’t. I mean it."

"Do you now?" he wonders, gaze flickering to yours.

"I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want you to hurt anyone."

"Why would I hurt anybody?" He chuckles. "I’m not always the bad guy, you know. I did save you now, didn’t I? All those years ago."

"Save?"

"Ran away, didn’t you? Then made to survive with your gift when things went to shit." His words are mocking, condescending. "The Aesir who was so very far away from home. At least that’s how I remember it. In the end, you practically begged me to take you back to Asgard. Prayed to me, pleaded with me."

"If only I was shown what entailed," you mutter. "What it showed me instead, it … misled me."

He sighs. "Still, I envy you for it."

Coldness sets in. "You’ve always envied what I think is cursed."

Odin leans back in his seat. "Nonsense. It’s a gift."

"Only when it’s useful to you."

"I suppose, but whatever benefits Asgard benefits our son, no?" he muses. "That boy of ours, he really is something. Everything we hoped he’d be. You’d want the best for him, wouldn’t you?"

The words hit you hard. Almost immediately, you shoot up from your seat, seething, "How dare you mention him? I haven’t seen him since he was a child. You took him from me."

"You abandoned him."

"I was forced to. By you," you grit out.

"And whose fault is that?" he wonders coldly.

All the colour has drained from your face, and just like that, it feels as though it was only yesterday you left home in such a state — ashen-faced, chin quivering, trying your hardest not to cry when you were asked if you’d be back. The confusion written all over his little face was probably enough to shatter your heart.

You’ve always loved that boy too much for your own good. It’s made you weak if anything. And it would have made him weak. It’s better this way, you and him apart. Besides, the man that your son is now, the man that Odin raised him to be — useful, reliable, loyal — you’d be pleased with how he’s turn out.

Odin moves to take your hands in his. When you don’t pull away, he starts in a honeyed voice, "We all make mistakes. What’s important is that you’re making up for yours. And for that, I’ll always be very proud."

He rises from his seat, a hand moving to cup your cheek. He watches you start to crack, because in your isolation, despite all the hate and anger you may feel for him, he is still all you have.

"It’s been hard on you, hasn’t it?" he murmurs sympathetically, thumb brushing across your cheek. "Being here all alone. Away from our son, from me. From family. I know I haven’t been dropping by as often as you’d like. And for that, I’m truly sorry. Truth is, I’ve been busy, but that’s no excuse, is it?"

His fingers move to grasp your chin, tilting it upwards so that you can meet his gaze. Something in your expression falters.

"I should’ve made time for you," he tells you softly. "Forgive me?"

He pulls away, gazes down at you intently.

A moment goes by.

Then finally, a crack.

"The boy," comes your reluctant response. "The boy will come to Asgard. I’ve seen it."

Eagerness grips him. There you are. There it is.

"And?"

"He’s come because of his father. He’s been … driven away."

He detects a hint of disgust in your voice, though he gets the sense that it isn’t for him, or Loki.

After all, it is your whispers that often end in suffering, don’t they?

He is bound to betray you.

That Dwarf will rebel against you.

When she leaves, you will have her wings.

Most of the time, all he has to do is tell you that it is for the good of Asgard, for the good of your son, and you carry on without hesitation.

His response now is as ravenous as it was then.

"The mask. Tell me about the mask."

Your brows crease. "The pieces … they come together. And the boy, he seems to be the key."

A thrill runs through him.

He takes and takes. Whatever you have to offer.

"And Ragnarök?"

You hesitate.

"You know I can’t see that far."

Irritation flares.

"Fimbulwinter is already here," he insists impatiently. "Ragnarök is close."

"I’ve told you everything I know," is all you say.

Odin seizes you by the arms then, fingers digging harshly into your skin. "This is really, really important. And I need you to think carefully. Ragnarök. Anything … you can tell me about that?"

He sighs at the lack of a response.

"Might be hard for me to come visit if I’m dead. You’d miss me, wouldn’t you?"

You glare up at him, voice taut.

"I can’t tell you what I don’t know."

Odin watches you closely.

"What about your son? Our son? You want to keep him safe, don’t you?"

Your gaze softens ever so slightly, but you don’t budge.

"I really don’t know."

A moment passes.

He loosens his hold on you, fingers moving to brush your hair back.

"Well …" he finally murmurs. "I had to ask."

Odin gazes at you fondly, tone now affectionate.

"Even so, I always knew you wouldn’t let me down." He chuckles. "My little prophetess. I nearly forgot how good of a team we were. How … talented you were."

His hand slides down to rest on your throat, and the lightness vanishes. He regards you with a dark gaze, eye tracing your skin.

Then, after a while, his words come quietly.

"I’ve always loved you. You know that, right?"

He steps closer, fingers curling around your neck.

"Even after all that treachery. Even after you turned your back on me."

"You didn’t give me a choice."

"No, you just chose to betray me."

"I didn’t want to."

"But you did. You should be dead, you know. Or worse."

"And yet, you still need me, don’t you?" you challenge, neck still in his grasp.

He could kill you. Should kill you. Is it true, that he still needs you? A son blessed with your gift of foresight was all he wanted at the beginning, really. But after bearing him that child, you’ve still somehow managed to prove yourself useful. How many times have your insight proved valuable? That you’ve dealt with a problem that hasn’t even begun?

But more importantly, you’ve grown on him, haven’t you?

"You had your son kill most, if not all the Giants," you continue accusingly. "And you strangled that Giantess because you didn’t like what she saw. Now they’re all gone. Because of you. And so, now — now you keep me alive despite the treason I’ve committed because I’m the only one left with the gift of prophecy you so desperately covet. That’s unless you prefer to seek out the Norns, but we both know how much you despise them."

Your hand slides up his arm, gripping his wrist.

"If you truly wish me dead, then do it. Murder me. Murder me like you murdered your dear friend Gróa."

He chuckles lightly.

"You’re overreacting. What makes you think I want you dead? You should be, but you’re still here, aren’t you?"

"So you want my gratitude?"

"I want to know if you still care," he murmurs, gaze intent. "Do you truly hate me? As much as you claim you do?"

He sees you hesitate.

Then.

"I should. After you sent me here, after you made me leave my son." A trembling pause. "But I don’t." You can barely even look at him. "I can’t." Your voice wavers. "No matter what you do."

"I’m a difficult man," he says, fingers releasing their grasp on your throat, grazing upwards to cup the side of your face. "I admit that."

"You’re a god."

"And is that so bad?" Odin wonders, thumb caressing your lips.

Worse, you whisper as he leans in to have you. You let him.

You always do.

•••

"You’ve been to see my mother," Heimdall will later say. Carefully, for it is a sensitive subject he is about to broach. Callously, so that the All-Father does not know that a part of him still cares.

It’s pathetic. Truly.

"I have," comes his father’s response.

Heimdall waits. And waits. But the All-Father never elaborates, never looks up from his book.

"I’m surprised she made it all the way to Fimbulwinter. She always did have a rather … weak disposition," he drawls, voice dripping with contempt.

But he doesn’t hate her. Not really. He remembers her delicate laugh, her smiling eyes. That gaze of pure adoration whenever she looked at him, as though he was who she loved most. No one ever looks at him that way anymore.

She would still. He knows this.

"You’d think she’d have perished by now," Heimdall muses with a dramatic sigh, fingers distractedly grazing across a scroll as he lingers near the table where his father’s seated at, nose still burrowed in his book.

"So you want her dead?" the All-Father suddenly asks, gaze flickering to him.

Heimdall hesitates, scoffs.

"She betrayed us. She betrayed you."

"Sure, sure," the All-Father murmurs. The book slams shut. His father’s full attention is now on him. Heimdall wished for it just seconds earlier, will long for it always, but now that he has it, it isn’t a very pleasant feeling. It never is.

"So, do you?"

His brow creases. "All-Father?"

"Want her dead."

Heimdall freezes.

His father is still staring at him, waiting. Waiting for an answer. He wants to know. He always does. Somewhere behind him, Huginn screeches.

Then, reluctantly, almost disgustedly, he forces himself to respond.

"No."

A moment passes.

The All-Father hums, reaches for his book, attention shifting away from him, and it’s almost as if the moment never happened.

Heimdall tries not to look too relieved.

"That’ll be all."

His arm flies up to his chest, back already instinctively bent in a bow.

"All-Father."

He’s met with only silence. Always only silence.

And when he leaves, it’s as if he was never there at all.

#odin x reader #odin #odin god of war #god of war x reader #god of war #odin god of war x reader #heimdall #heimdall god of war #gow #gow x reader #mywriting #useraurguries #odin gow x reader #odin gow #heimdall gow

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middleearthpixie · 8 months

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Living Proof ~ Chapter Fourteen

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen. She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia

Warnings: Some battle violence (nothing graphic, I promise)

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell @emrfangirl @emmanuellececchi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Kaia sank onto the edge of a broken stone at the top of the parapet and sighed softly as Madril asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, looking up at him. It was a lie, of course. The moment she heard Boromir’s name, and then his voice, her stomach had been a mess of jumbles and knots. And when she met his gaze… her heart beat so fast and with such force, she thought for a moment she might faint.

But then those gray-blue eyes narrowed and his gaze pierced right through her. The anger practically radiated from him and while she couldn't fault him at all, it did surprise her that he was so angry. She’d always thought that men easily separated emotion from the physical and that he would be just as glad to not have her clinging to him, begging for a future with him. But then again, her experience with men was on the limited side, and none she’d ever known were anything like Boromir. Not by half.

She hadn’t expected him to speak to her. In fact, she thought he might just shove past her and go on his way. And now that he had spoken, she almost wished he hadn’t. Almost.

She stared toward the doorway where she’d last seen him. Part of her hoped the halflings had too far a head start on him, that he’d give up and return to Osgiliath. But that was only simply so she didn't worry about him, about something terrible befalling him.

“If you don’t mind my saying, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Well, not exactly, anyway.”

“Did you know the halflings?”

“Know them? No. Know of them? Yes.” She turned completely toward him. “I know Boromir knows them, but not how or why. I’ve heard him speak of them, but he never went into detail.”

“Hmm…” Madril’s eyes narrowed slightly and she waited for him to ask her about how she knew Boromir.

But he didn’t. Instead, he gazed out over the growing darkness, which seemed far heavier and much darker than normal. Something in the distance must’ve caught his attention, for he said, “Excuse me,” and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Curious, she followed, coming up as Faramir joined him on the far parapet and Madril said, “It’s been very quiet across the river. The orcs are lying low. The garrison may have moved out. We’ve send scouts to Cair Andros and if the orcs attack from the north, we will have some warning.”

Orcs. Although she knew the chance of facing them grew far greater with each passing day, it didn't mean the thought did not scare her at all. She watched as Faramir’s men moved about, seemingly at random purpose, but she knew well enough they were moving into position for either watch or battle, and she strongly suspected the latter.

She was not wrong.

The first arrow took her by surprise. It swished over her head, striking one of Faramir’s men dead center in the chest, piercing his armor as if it was no thicker than a sheet of paper. He fell, clanking down the stone steps as he rolled out of sight.

“They’re not coming from the north,” Faramir said, “To the river! Quick! Go!”

Despite the roiling in her belly, despite the icy terror rushing through her veins, she followed the others to Osgiliath’s lowest level, where the river had begun to swamp it, greenish-black water swirling about the crumbling stone. Black dots danced before her eyes as she flattened herself into an alcove, just as she had done earlier, when the Nazgûl swooped overhead.

A boat silently eased up to the stone and dropped its ramp, and orcs poured from it, splashing and sloshing their way through the fortress. Madril and Faramir were the first to leap out and attack and her hands wrapped tightly about her sword’s grips, Kaia did the same.

Bedlam ensued. Steel met steel with deafening clangs. Men and orcs screamed as one ran the other through. Heads were removed from bodies. Arms and legs fell into the water with sickening splashes. Torsos were sliced in half, some cleanly, some not so cleanly. Orc blood, thick and black, mingled with the scarlet blood of Men as it spattered against the stone and spilled across the blocks beneath their feet.

Kaia could barely see for the gray and gloom of night, but that didn't stop her. Her head pounded from the sounds, from the force of her blood pumping through her temples. Her arms ached from the relentless swinging, from the force of her steel striking unyielding targets, from the force required to block the blows that came her way. She moved through the gloom, ignoring the rancid black ooze of orc blood spattering across her face, pressing forward. She lost sight of Madril. Lost sight of Faramir. Could see nothing but the relentless push of orcs as more and more spilled into Osgiliath.

A hot sting swept across her right shoulder. She ignored it as she swung back with everything she had to sever the arm holding the blade that cut her. But then another blade caught her to knock her sword from her grasp and she found herself eye to eye with the creature responsible.

“Well, look here at what I found,” he sneered, lifting his blade to poke it into the hollow of her throat.

Tears of pain stung her eyes, but she fought to keep them from falling. Her sword lay just along her left foot, but if she moved, the blade at her throat would pierce her before she got halfway to her own steel.

Metal sliced the air and the orc’s head went flying off to his left, while his body crumpled in a heap where he’d stood. Sticky black ooze clouded her right eye, but Faramir’s voice was clear as he shouted, “Fall back! Fall back to Minas Tirith!” as he continued past her.

She snatched up her blade, dragging the back of her right hand across her face to clear her vision. A hint of panic stung her as she had no idea where Minas Tirith was in relation to where she was, but she broke into a run behind the others as they all scattered.

Splashing through the flooded portion of Osgiliath, Kaia lost her footing more than once, but managed to remain upright as she followed the others. Her heart hammered her ribs with enough force that black dots danced before her eyes as she fought to ignore it, to ignore the burn in her lungs and in her legs. Running was never her strong suit, but her life had never depended on it nearly as much, aside from that day in the clearing, when she dragged a nearly-lifeless Boromir back from certain death.

Dawn was breaking as they spilled forth from Osgiliath and Kaia was fairly certain her feet touched no ground as she ran across the fields. Her heart threatened to explode, her lungs threatened to seize up, and at the shriek of the Nazgûl screeched louder, she knew she stood no chance. Her legs surrendered first. She stumbled. Reeled forward. Went skidding across the ground, unable to hold back her cry of pain as her wounded shoulder took most of the brunt of her fall. Her sleeve was torn almost completely off and blood soaked the fabric as it gushed from the ugly slash. Her hand felt cold, her sword jarred free from her grasp once more, only now she couldn’t make her hand obey her and grip it once more.

A shadow fell over her. Thunder of hoofbeats roared above her. She closed her eyes and braced herself to be trampled beneath those hooves.

The sounds of battle reached Boromir’s ears as he made his way back toward Osgiliath and as he emerged from the tunnel, and saw the empty boats, his gut twisted sharply and he slid his sword free. He didn't stop pushing forward, and unlike the last time he faced an army of orcs, he didn’t feel the sting of the arrow. All Boromir could think about was getting to Kaia. Faramir’s men were as good as his own had been, but they were still horribly outnumbered, and he knew she was there somewhere.

Then Faramir bellowed for them to fall back and without hesitation, Boromir made for the stables and he didn't care whose horse he took as he swung up onto the first saddled mount he saw. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and took off out into the coming dawn.

The shriek of the Nazgûl made his hair stand on end and he urged his horse to run faster as the fell beast swooped down toward the Pelennor Fields, where ahead of him, the rest of Faramir’s men thundered toward Minas Tirith. He slowed down some as he caught sight of an inert figure lying face down not fifty yards ahead of him and his stomach clenched as he tugged hard on the reins and his mount slowed, then stopped.

“Kaia!” He leaped down from the animal’a back and dropped to his knees at her side. She didn't stir.

He wasted no time in gathering her in his arms to spirit her back to his horse, where he managed to maneuver her up into the saddle in front of him, an arm firmly about her waist as he dug his heels into the horse’s sides and they moved once more.

Dirt spattered her face, clumps of it mingled with blood dotted her glorious hair, now matted with sweat and earth. The sleeve of her tunic was shredded, her right shoulder smeared with blood, both fresh and dried, and an ugly wound along her upper arm continued to bleed freely.

Without thinking, he cradled her closer, muttering, “We’re almost there, just a bit further. Just… hold on, love…”

A brilliant white light split the Nazgûl in two and sent them all in opposite directions, leaving a clear path all the way back to Minas Tirith and as they crossed into the White City and Boromir saw Gandalf, he couldn't believe his eyes at all.

Kaia stirred then, lifting her head as she let out a low groan. “Who—where—how?”

“Shhh…” He tightened his arm about her. “You’re safe now.”

“Boromir?” She craned her neck to peer up at him with confused eyes. “But… how…?”

“We will talk later,” he told her softly, guiding his mount along the cobbled main road that wound up along the city’s tiers. The Houses of Healing were on the sixth level and that was where he was going. Everything else would wait for now. Faramir. His father. It would all wait.

Kaia let out a cry as he slipped from the horse and jostled her when he moved to ease her down as well. “Forgive me,” he murmured, cradling her against his chest.

He carried her up the stairs into the Houses of Healing, where Ioreth, Minas Tirith’s healer, looked up. “Boromir? You—you’re here?”

“I am but please, any and all questions will wait for now.”

“Yes, of course,” she gestured for him to bring Kaia over to the bed nearest the bank of windows. “Is this your squire?”

“Squire? No. She is no boy but a woman, Ioreth. Kaia.” He bent to set Kaia down on the bed. “And I owe my life to her.”

Ioreth offered up a quirked eyebrow, but all she said was, “I will tend to her. You should go and see Denethor. He’s been… not himself, these last few weeks.”

He sighed softly, drawing the back of his wrist across his forehead. “Just… just take care of her. I have to go find Faramir. When she wakes, tell her…”

“Tell her what, my lord?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. Just take care of her.”

“My lord?”

He let out a low sigh. “Just tell her I will be back.”

With that, he turned and strode back toward the doorway and without a look back, left the House of Healing. As he stepped out into the golden sunlight, he saw Faramir and with great haste, hurried to catch up with him.

“Faramir!”

Faramir stopped and, shading his eyes with one hand, looked up. “Where did you come from?”

“Never mind that,” Boromir waved off the question as he joined them. “I thought I’d go with you to see Father, lest he not believe I actually walk amongst the living.”

“Where is Kaia? Have you seen her?”

He nodded. “She is in with Ioreth now. I imagine the infirmary will be overrun with wounded shortly.”

“She was wounded? What happened?”

“I know not. I happened upon her just over the border of the Pelennor Fields.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No. Now, come. We’ve no time to waste on idea chatter.”

He started toward the Citadel, where he knew he’d find his father, in his chair at the foot of the black staircase that led up to the throne of the king of Gondor.

But, Faramir was nothing if not determined and as he fell into step alongside him, he said, “What happened to her?”

“I told you, I haven’t a clue. I found her lying in the field and brought her in.”

“So, wait… you simply dumped her in the infirmary?”

“Mind your own matters, little brother,” Boromir growled without looking at him.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“This is not the time.”

“Not the—“ Faramir fell into step alongside him. “Are you a complete idiot? What could she have possibly done to make you this angry?”

Boromir was in no mood to discuss his love life or hear Faramir’s take on it, either. His stomach clenched with a worry he tried to pretend was nothing more than exhaustion as they continued on their way. “Again, mind your own matters.”

“Mind my own—oh, fine. If that’s what you wish, far be it from me to be your blasted conscience.”

“Good. I need no conscience. I assure you, I’ve done nothing to her that shames me.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

Now, Boromir glared at him, but Faramir simply rolled his eyes in response and hurried up the stone staircase ahead of him.

At the top of the stone steps, they reached the courtyard and in the center of it, the Tree of Gondor, which would have been white, had it not been dead. Boromir paid neither it nor his brother and mind as he bobbed his head at the pages who silently tugged open the doors leading into Tower Hall.

Denethor II, the Steward of Gondor, sat in his chair, scowling as always, but when he looked up, his eyes lit up as he said, “My son! I worried a terrible fate had befallen you.”

“No.” Boromir shook his head as he drew to a halt before his father. “As you can see, I am alive and in one piece.”

“But we thought…” Denethor cleared his throat and turned away for a moment. When he turned back, he brandished the halved remains of the Great Horn. “This was brought back by one of your brother’s men and I was certain it meant you were lost.”

Boromir stared at the ivory and gold pieces and slowly shook his head. “No. I was wounded, but as you can see, I still walk amongst the living.”

“It is a gift, that you are here and my greatest fear did not come to pass.” He said this with a rare smile and a warm gaze adding, “And have you—”

He paused, his cold gray eyes sliding toward Faramir, who drew up alongside Boromir. “Have you done as you were tasked?”

Boromir swallowed hard. He knew he would disappoint his father, knew Denethor would be furious and would most likely disown him when he admitted that he’d failed. But, he squared his shoulders and shook his head. “I’ve not, no.”

Denethor’s cold eyes grew colder still, looking like two slivers of iced slate. His jaw tightened. “Is that so?”

“It is. I tried. But—”

“You tried? What does that mean—you tried. You failed!”

“I did, yes. And as a result—”

“As a result, you left the Ring in the possession of a halfwit who will keep it for himself!”

“No,” Faramir broke in softly. “I do not think he will, Father.”

“Oh, you do not think he will, do you?” Those iced slate eyes slid toward Faramir. “Then you are as halfwitted as they are, for of course he will. He’d be a fool not to.”

“Father,” Boromir interrupted sharply, “I did try to take it and that halfwit outsmarted me, and when he did, I realized I was wrong. So very wrong, indeed. I was wrong to try tot take it for myself, for Gondor, and not to allow the one chosen to bear it to destroy it. And if that makes me a halfwit, then so be it. I am at peace with the fact that I failed.”

Denethor’s gaze grew colder still, colder than Boromir had ever seen. “You disappoint me, as I thought you the braver of my sons. And yet you defy me. Defy my instructions. You have proved yourself as useless and unworthy as your brother!”

“So be it.” Boromir shrugged as if his father’s words meant nothing to him, ignoring the sharp sting those words sent through him. Denethor’s disappointment was not something to which he was accustomed. Normally, Faramir bore the brunt of their father’s wrath, while Boromir tried to shield him at all turns.

But not this time.

“Father, to take the Ring, to bring it here, would bring about our ruin faster. This is how it must be done. And this is how it will be done.”

“Take yourself from my sight,” Denethor growled. “And take your brother with you. My sons, my heirs, and you are nothing but disappointments, both of you.”

“You will return to Osgiliath. Take it back. Then, and only then, will I even consider you my sons again.”

“Father, Osgiliath was overrun—” Faramir began.

“Take it back.” Denethor looked from him to Boromir and back. “And do not return until you do, either of you.”

Boromir stared at his father for a long moment, as if he’d never seen him before. Although he knew firsthand the pull the Ring had and would have over any Man who thought to try to possess it, he knew Denethor had no such awareness. All he cared about was what Boromir himself had cared about when he’d attacked Frodo in the clearing at Amon Hen. Power. Denethor wanted to secure his place, wanted to make certain his position never wavered, that he never had reason to fear the rightful king coming to usurp him.

He should only know that Gondor’s true leader was somewhere between Minas Tirith and Mordor, and if Aragorn should survive and return to claim his rightful place, Boromir would not hesitate to bow and acknowledge him as the King of Gondor.

“Did you hear me?”

“I did and if that’s what you wish, ” Boromir shrugged, “so be it.”

“Then we understand each other.”

“Aye, I understand.” With that, Boromir turned and stalked from Tower Hall without looking back.

Outside, Faramir caught up to him. “You should go and see her before you go.”

“I’ll not tell you again, little brother,” Boromir growled without looking at him, “stay out of my affairs.”

“And if you do not return?”

He paused then, at the low wall at the far end of the courtyard, where he could see Osgiliath and the River Anduin. Gazing out at the sparkling water, he drew in a deep breath and let it out as a low, steady exhale. “Why does it trouble you so much?”

“Because, I think you should talk to her, that’s why.”

Overhead, clouds thickened, iron gray and heavy with the promise of rain. In the distance, the faint orange glow of the ever-watchful Eye of Sauron gleamed. A heaviness settled over Minas Tirith, one that he’d felt long before he was tasked with going to Rivendell, but had grown heavier since then. If Osgiliath remained in orc hands, it was but a matter of time before they made the march to Minas Tirith.

“If I need advice on how to handle my life, little brother, I promise you, you will be the first one I come to. Until then, mind your own matters.”

He turned to stride toward the stairs, to return to his flat and prepare to depart Minas Tirith once more, only to have Faramir halt his stride as he called, “What did she do that was so terrible?”

Without slowing, Boromir called back, “It is none of your—”

“Concern, I know. But I saw how she looked at you and how you looked at her. Go and talk to her and tell her before it’s too late.”

“Tell her?” Now he stopped. Stopped and turned toward Faramir. “Tell her what?”

Faramir offered up a long look. “I think you know.”

“Do you? Because I assure you, I don’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Faramir snorted and replied, “Tell her you love her, you dolt. I think you’ll be surprised by her answer.”

“I don't love her,” he shook his head, “nor do I care what her answer is.”

“I saw how she looked at you.”

“And how was that? Surprised, little brother. She was surprised to see me.”

“Yes, that I saw. But, there was something else.”

“Your mind toyed with you and you saw not what you thought you did. And I’ll discuss it no more. Round up whoever you can and let them know to be ready. We leave first thing in the morning.”

“Boromir,” Faramir caught him by the arm, “go and talk to her before you leave. Just… trust me, won’t you? You will regret it if you don’t. Don't make a mistake that will haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Faramir didn't wait for his response, but hurried off to prepare for their departure, but Boromir stood there for a long while, staring out at the river, at Osgiliath. Part of him wanted to just return to his quarters and prepare to leave Minas Tirith once more, possibly for good.

But, the other part of him…

Seeing Kaia lying so still on the battlefield had knocked the wind from him and all he could think about was getting to her. And once he had her, it took every bit of will he possessed to leave her in Ioreth’s care, even though he knew full well Kaia couldn't have been in safer hands.

With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the edge of the low wall, hands clasped between his thighs, and he stared at the dead tree in the center of the courtyard. Faramir was right. He had to talk to Kaia before he left, if nothing else to clear the air between them. He wanted to know why she’d left the way she had.

He sat there a while longer, but then, mindful of how much time had passed, slowly got to his feet and made his way down to the sixth level once more. It most likely would change nothing, but he did want to see Kaia before he left.

Butterflies went wild as he neared the infirmary, making him feel very much as if he was but a boy about to see the girl he’d been admiring from afar for what seemed like forever. As he reached the doorway leading into the area where he’d left Kaia, he paused on the threshold. All of the anger that had simmered within him since he’d awoken to find her gone had vanished now. His pride had been bruised, but when he thought about it, he couldn't exactly fault her for leaving. After all, he’d made no bones about the fact that he fully intended to leave her. She just beat him to the punch.

At the same time, though, she made him realize something. He did not like being away from her. In the short time he’d been under her care, in the time that he’d come to know her, he found being apart from her was far worse than even being wounded by the Uruk-hai had been. It wasn't anything he’d ever felt before and if he was completely honest with himself, he wasn't exactly certain what to do with those feelings. Especially knowing she wasn't one to tie herself down. And neither was he.

Or at least, he’d thought he wasn’t.

“My lord?”

Ioreth’s soft voice broke through his reverie and he started, looking down into her lined faced. Her dark eyes bored through him, just as they had since he was a boy and she always seemed to know when he’d been up to no good. Shaking his head, he managed a slight smile. “I beg your pardon. Doing a bit of woolgathering, I suppose.”

Woolgathering.

Over Ioreth’s shoulder, he could see Kaia’s bed, could see Kaia, and she looked so terribly still that his gut kinked. “Ioreth, the girl I brought in earlier? How did she fare?”

“Miss Kaia? She fares well, actually.” Ioreth twisted to peer over her shoulder, then looked back at him. “I managed to halt the bleeding and I don't think she will lose the arm, although it will be some time before she has full use of it.”

Relief surged through him. “Good.”

“She’s asked for you.”

His spine stiffened at that. “She did?”

“Yes.”

His mouth went dry as he peered over her shoulder once more. “Did she say anything else?”

“Go and talk to her.”

“Is she awake?”

“No, but she should be soon.”

With that, Ioreth stepped out of his way, taking away his last barrier to reach Kaia. Swallowing hard against the hammering of his heart and the dots dancing before his eyes, Boromir moved around her, crossing over to Kaia’s bed. As he reached it, one of Ioreth’s helpers brought over a chair for him.

“Thank you,” he said without thinking, not taking his eyes off Kaia. He’d never seen her so still, her dark red hair spilled beneath her, shining in the afternoon sun. Her fair skin looked paler still, even against the stark white bandage wrapped about her upper arm.

“Might I fetch you anything, my lord?”

He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m fine. But, I’d rather not be disturbed, unless my brother comes looking for me.”

“Of course.”

Boromir turned back to Kaia and he gently slipped his hand beneath hers, her palm warm against his. Her fingers tightened briefly about his. He smiled, bringing her hand to his lips to gently brush the backs of her fingers with a light kiss.

Her lashes were thick black crescents against her pale cheeks, and while he hoped her eyelids would flutter and then open, they stay shut. Her chest rose and fell softly with each breath, and he sank into the chair, her hand still in his. He would remain by her side until she woke, and he was not leaving until he’d had a chance to speak with her.

Until he made things right with her.

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Sean Bean #Everybody Lives #Sons of Gondor

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