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quickhacked · 7 months

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trembling hands for vitali? 👀👀

TREMBLING HANDS [x] characters >> nick vossler (oc), vitali dobrynin (oc) context >> november 2067; it's the morning after this fic takes place, vitali is in college and in general not dealing with everything that's going on in his life well total >> 2.2k words warnings >> alcohol mention, drugs mention, nick being a bit of a dick in general, nsfw mention, portrayal of a toxic relationship (these men make each other worse)

The old and decrepit apartment building in the Glen was freezing cold. Not all that surprising for that time of the year; and stacking overdue electric bills had put an end to Vitali’s access to the place’s central heating, but he was not allowed to complain. If anything, he was lucky to still be able to call it his home at all to begin with.

He woke up with a throbbing headache and a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, and despite the good amount of sleep he had managed to get he still found himself struggling to properly wake up. His ailments were the result of mostly dehydration- though taking the amount of drugs and alcohol in his system the night before, it was safe to assume it was not the only problem at play.

Vitali rarely suffered terrible hangovers. Nothing a glass of water and an ibuprofen couldn’t fix; and whenever he had classes the next morning he still always showed up on time, wearing his best fake smile as always and a mood that was still of questionable quality but never worse than it usually was.

Though that morning was different.

The bleak sunlight that poured in from underneath the curtain of the single window in the living room barely raised the temperature inside his apartment. All it did was cast a single, bright ray of sunshine directly into Vitali’s eyes, an annoyance greater than his comfort on the twin size mattress on the floor to the point he found himself unable to fall back asleep.

He groaned and carefully rolled himself on his side, dragging the covers with him as he slowly attempted to get up. His entire body was sore; had not slept in the greatest position, but the sex he’d had with Nick the night before- pressed against the wall of the expensive nightclub’s hallway- had absolutely not helped either, and the moment he finally managed to stand up he nearly sank through his knees again from the pain in his upper right leg.

Consequences of his own actions.

Vitali knew better than to wallow in his misery, well aware he had caused it entirely himself, no one else to blame. It was not as if he would learn; next week he would make the same old mistakes all over again, a broken record doomed to play on repeat until his trembling hands would lose their grip entirely and he would spiral down into a freefall.

He managed to find his way to the kitchen, still wrapped in the covers as he opened one of the mismatched cupboards to look for a clean cup; could not find any and instead took a dirty one out of the sink, rinsing it a few times before pouring himself some apple juice.

His gaze caught his phone as he brought the glass to his lips, the cracked and dirty screen lighting up from the kitchen countertop beside his keys and wallet and showing- nineteen unread messages and eleven missed calls?

‘What the fuck?’ he mumbled under his breath, lowering the glass again and setting it back as he grabbed his phone instead, blanket over his shoulders dropping down on the floor.

Unsurprisingly so, all of it was Nick’s doing. It would not be the first time he had obsessively tried to get Vitali’s attention; far from it, in fact, a man desperate for validation as well as forgiveness each and every time he had done something wrong. Though as far as Vitali was concerned, nothing out of the ordinary had happened when they’d seen each other in the club- and his curiosity was winning over his exasperation.

Naturally, he did not hesitate when Nick’s name popped up in the middle of his screen again.

‘What do you fucking want?’ Vitali asked, voice possibly a little harsher than he had meant for as he quickly pulled his half-opened flannel back over his exposed shoulder when he heard loud knocking on the front door. Nick did not respond at first- and Vitali quickly figured out why, swinging the door open and instantly being met with the other man, holding up his own phone with an annoyed frown on his face.

‘Eleven fuckin’ times, V,’ he said, lowering his hand at the same time as Vitali did. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Twelve, actually, counting this one,’ Vitali simply spat back, demonstratively hanging up and tossing his phone back on the kitchen counter from where he stood. ‘And you’re the one showing up at my place at fuck o’clock in morning.’

‘It’s two in the afternoon!’

‘Same thing.’

Nick cursed under his breath and stepped inside, tugging on Vitali’s flannel- drawing a protesting, somewhat startled scoff from his lips- to then button it all the way to the top.

‘You need to learn to put on some clothes,’ he muttered, brushing some of Vitali’s hair out of his face to prevent it from getting stuck between the buttons. A surprisingly gentle touch; Vitali sometimes forgot he was still capable of that, after everything that had happened.

‘I’m wearing clothes.’ Vitali paused, noticing Nick’s eyeroll and he punched his shoulder in response, not too hard but not being playful either. ‘Comfort of my own home! Get out if you don’t like it.’

‘More clothes,’ Nick sneered, gesturing at Vitali’s mostly naked legs. ‘And wear ‘em properly. I could see your tits.’

‘So? You’ve seen them before. Did not hear you complain yesterday.’

‘It’s freezing in here!’

‘What’s your fucking point, Nick?!’

Vitali’s voice nearly echoed through the whole hallway behind the other man and silence washed over the apartment, both of them taking a few steps back at the same time. Vitali watched as Nick clenched his jaw and briefly turned around to close the front door, then vaguely gestured around into the room.

‘Was worried,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘Didn’t hear anything from you when I texted if you got home safely. Jackie couldn’t tell me where you were. Jen has me blocked now, wasn’t of any fuckin’ use either- no idea what that’s all about. Where did you go?’

Vitali was not entirely sure how to answer him.

He could barely remember it, was the truth. Everything that had happened after he had walked away from Nicky in that sweaty and suffocating hallway was merely a blur to him now, though he did remember spending another good hour or two stumbling around before he had been able to find his way to the exit.

He vaguely remembered the rain; could vaguely recall getting soaked and taking a cab elsewhere, the air-conditioning inside freezing him down to the bone. He had not gone home yet- had needed more to be able to forget, to wash off the feeling of Nick’s hands on his body and to drown out the voice in his head screaming at him to stop and go home, get his act together while he still could.

‘Took the long way home, I guess,’ he finally managed to say, hesitance dripping from his lips with each and every word he spoke and Nick’s eyes narrowed a little.

‘Couldn’t find a moment to text me back?’ he asked.

‘Did not think you’d care.’

‘Oh, that’s foul.’

‘Usually you don’t. I don’t know what you want me to say.’

Another silence as a sharp, exasperated sigh left Nick’s lips and he averted his gaze to the ceiling. Acting annoyed, but on the losing end- Vitali was right and both parties knew that very well, Nick’s sudden concern entirely out of the blue considering he usually left his phone off for several days after an argument.

‘Why are you really here?’ Vitali asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and taking another step back, keeping as much distance between himself and the other man as possible. Not out of fear; moreso disgust, unable to believe he’d let Nick do whatever he wanted to him, again, the money much needed but the aftermath and the memories of it embarrassing him to his core in a way he hadn’t even known was possible.

Maybe Jenny was right this time.

Not as if that mattered much. She hadn’t reached out to him at all anymore.

‘I just- wanted to apologize for yesterday,’ Nick mumbled in response. ‘Wasn’t all too nice to you, from what I remember.’

‘You weren’t, no.’ Vitali paused, licked his lips, and gestured at Nick. ‘Go ahead. Apologize.’

‘I just did.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘Fucking hell, Dobrynin-!’

‘What! Saying you want to apologize is not the same as apologizing-’

‘You’re so fucking pretentious, you know that?’

The sharp edge to Nick’s voice made Vitali scoff and he sucked in a shallow breath, adrenaline rushing through his system until the hairs on his arms stood up straight. His body was bracing itself; not expecting a physical blow- even Nick knew better than to sink that low- simply another mental one, a blow to his ego he would carry with him into the next week until his next mistake would come along and take its place.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Nick bluntly said and threw up his hands in exasperation. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t’ve come. You’re not making it very easy to be worried about you, you know that? And then one day when you do need the help I won’t be here. No one will.’

‘Right, because every time before today when you weren’t there for me by your own fucking choice, that could not have happened, of course,’ Vitali mockingly replied and gestured at the door. ‘You are just trying to cover for yourself now. Get out if you don’t have anything nice to say.’

‘I love you.’

The statement caught Vitali a little off guard and he slowly lowered his hands, standing unmoving as Nick walked closer to him and cupped his face in both hands, strands of Vitali’s long, bleached hair getting caught between his fingers.

‘I love you,’ he quietly repeated himself, thumbs running in circles over Vitali’s cheeks, ‘and I just wish you’d let me.’

Vitali’s eyes slowly moved over Nick’s face- the little marks covering his cheekbones, the acne scarring roughening the skin of his cheeks and jaw, the little bump in his nose caused by a broken bone that had not healed all too well-

He reminded him of Mikhail, sometimes.

But they were not the same.

‘I’ve given you enough chances and you walk away every single fucking time,’ Vitali quietly replied, moving up his hand to place it over Nick’s and he softly kissed his palm. ‘What do I need to do to make you stay?’

Nick couldn’t answer. And Vitali knew that.

Both of them had fucked up more than enough times; both had walked away before, justified, sometimes not, in the heat of the moment or when things just got a little too boring for their liking. They got annoyed about everything they were and fought about everything they were not and instead of talking things out like normal people they would get drunk, get naked, and pretend like nothing had happened the next day.

‘You’re complicated,’ Nick finally said, gently brushing some of Vitali’s hair out of his face.

‘So are you,’ Vitali merely replied, making a biting motion at Nick’s hand who in response cupped his face and leaned in closer to kiss him, a somewhat metallic taste to his lips Vitali could not quite place.

‘I love you,’ he mumbled into the kiss, slowly draping his arms over Nick’s shoulders and pulling him closer until there was no space left between their bodies. He broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of Nick’s neck- and the other man reciprocated the hug, one hand on Vitali’s back and the other in his hair.

‘Have somethin’ to eat, take it easy today,’ he quietly said, slowly pulling back and fixing the collar of Vitali’s flannel. ‘I’ll see you again tomorrow, okay?’

‘Okay.’

The silences that followed were always the worst.

Watching Nick walk away again, leave through that very same door he had only just arrived through and wishing he would stop, come back inside, stay just a little longer. Whether Vitali had fucked it up for himself this time or not, he was no longer sure; it was impossible to tell what Nick’s true intentions were. Vitali usually was nothing more than a stopover to him.

And of course he wished it was different. If he could have it his way, Nick wasn’t such an asshole all the time. Wouldn’t just be using him for his own pleasure, wouldn’t just come and go as he pleased without taking Vitali’s feelings into account. And in return, Vitali wouldn’t have to return the attitude.

Had Nick even started it all? He wasn’t all that sure anymore.

Vitali scoffed at nobody in particular and walked through the room to the window, sitting himself down on the windowsill to stare outside. He was still cold, but it did not do anything to him anymore- his head was elsewhere, and the shivers running up and down his spine were the least of his worries.

At least I’ll see him again tomorrow.

At least he would always come back.

#asks #devilbrakers #writing asks #nuclearwriting #HEHE THAMK YOU. i've been meaning to finish this fic for a while now but never got to it #but this prompt was perfect for it >:^)#vitali being such a fuckup in his younger years is something that can be so special to me actually #the amount of work it took to get to where he is in life now is so admirable and also makes me insane #because so many people still believe that he got all that he has now because of the status of his family. when that's not true at all!!!#he lost everything at several points in his life and had to start over and over and over again and he fought so hard for what he has now #anyway i'm normal about this man yes why do you ask #finally gave nick a last name also <3 i do not like him but also i'm studying him like a bug in a petri dish

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writingouthere · 4 months

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neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader. In the aftermath of your apartment flooding, Sukuna makes you a deal that is too good to pass up. You don't fully know what you're agreeing to, but if you did would it have really changed anything? Reader POV

cw: Sukuna may seem like just a nice guy stepping up but really he's a red flag you're just too tired to see. It's hinted reader has not been treated well in the past but no specifics.

You hadn't known what to do when you woke up to the sound of rushing water. You had acted on instinct and grabbed your daughter from the room next to yours and stood in the kitchen, calling your landlord from the number on your lease to no avail. Your daughter was starting to get fussy and after the fourth attempt with no answer, you felt lost.

Your ex hadn't exactly been the reliable type and he probably would have just contributed by cursing and complaining about shitty landlords and even shittier affordable housing but that wouldn't have helped then and thinking about it wasn't helping you now. Single, alone with your daughter who was growing more disgruntled by the minute.

You hated to even consider but, there was someone who you kept coming back to that you thought could help.

Sukuna.

The tattooed man across the hallway hadn't struck you as the friendly type, but he had proved you wrong in the few months since you moved in. He looked like the type of guy you would cross the street to avoid, but he always had time to stop and talk to you when he saw you. He also always made it a point to say hello to your daughter and listen to her rambles, even when they didn't make sense to you.

Your other neighbors had warned you about him. Stories that included threats and assaults you just couldn't connect to the man who had taken you and your daughter to the aquarium when your piece of shit ex bailed on you both, again.

You had googled him afterwards and what you saw was pages and pages that included things like attempted, suspected and scarier words like murder, hospitalized and other things that just didn't fit with the man you were still getting to know.

The water was still falling and once your daughter started waking up, you called it and went over to the maybe scary man across the hall, who never scared you.

Within ten minutes, you found yourself in Sukuna's guest room while he stayed behind at your apartment to figure everything out. When was the last time someone told you, "I got it." You were always the responsible one. You were the mom friend, the girlfriend people liked to introduce to their parents. You had basically parented yourself!

But now, there was someone who told you that, "I got it."

So who could blame you for going along with what came next. When the next morning came and Sukuna told you that your super had come too late and the apartment was damage and you couldn't stop yourself from putting your head in your hands as your daughter happily munched on the pancakes he had made you both.

"What am I going to do," you groaned and you couldn't help but lean in when Sukuna placed his hand on your cheek.

"He said he would put you up in a hotel until it can be fixed," he said gently and you sighed. You envisioned the next several months in some shitty motel with no kitchen, sharing a lumpy bed with your two year-old, disrupting the routines you had been trying so hard to build as a single mom. No more afternoon trips to the park that was less than a block away. No more feeding the ducks with your leftover veggies or sharing pick up duties with the other moms at the daycare by your work.

"This sucks, I don't want to have to build my life all over again." And you really didn't. This was so frustrating and over what, a little water damage?

"Well," Sukuna started and he tilted your head so you were looking at him. "I do have the guest room. You could move some of your stuff over here and camp out until it's fixed. Pocket the hotel money, use it for something for the kid."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that-"

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition," he said, his eyes glinting and for just a second you could see a little of the danger your neighbors had told you about, but then it was gone and he was leaning over you to take another pancake from the serving tray and putting it on your daughter's empty plate.

"It's not just for you, I would-I would feel a lot better knowing the both of you were taken care of. I doubt the hotel that-" he cut off looking over at your daughter, "you know is putting you up in is going to be the safest place for the two of you."

You couldn't believe you were considering it but you were so tired. You felt like life had just become a series of less than ideal circumstances you were forced to deal with just because you didn't want to settle for the wrong guy or give your daughter less than she deserved.

"I would pay rent," you said and he looked ready to argue but you held up your hand. He smiled, amused and gestured go on. "Just until they can fix the apartment and if we get to be too much tell me. We can tough it out in a hotel. We've dealt with worse," you added and he frowned before nodding.

"Deal." He turned to look at your daughter and smiled. "You hear that bug, you and mommy are moving in." Your daughter giggled and clapped her syrup covered hands.

"Temporarily," you reminded him and he smiled at you.

"Right, let's go grab the stuff you'll need while you're here temporarily." He went grabbed a towel and wiped your daughters hands while she kept laughing and chanting "move in, move in!"

Is it your fault that you didn't know that your circumstances were anything but temporary?

#jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna x singlemomreader #sukuna x y/n

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elvirable · 8 months

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Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

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Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this.

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront.

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth.

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him.

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise.

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between.

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you.

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue.

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open.

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware.

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm.

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit.

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed.

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow.

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock.

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked.

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss.

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest.

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of.

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter One

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.2K

Warnings: drugs (not taken), gun violence

Series Masterlist

This wasn't his job. It was beneath him, usually a job for his inexperienced little brother. But Arthur was at home, being looked after by their maman as he nursed a non-fatal gunshot wound.

Charles was pissed as he drove through the streets of Monaco. This was Arthur's job, not his. If he had listened to Charles and Lorenzo, and hadn't run in with guns (quite literally) blazing, they wouldn't be in this position.

The people of Monaco knew about the people who, essentially owned them. They had a royal family, but they didn't have as much Power as the Leclercs. As soon as they saw the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale, they knew to get out of the way.

On this day, the only thing stopping Charles from driving into everybody in his way was his love for his precious car. As soon as he had checked through the clubs, he was going to go to his mamans house and murder Arthur.

Charles parked his car. Well, parked is a term used loosely. He stopped the car wherever he wanted and every other driver on the roads of Monaco had to work around him. This was maybe one of the best demonstrations of power that the Leclerc family had.

When Charles walked into the first club, the twenty six year old was reminded of why he hated it so much. He had loved it when he was a fresh faced eighteen year old, receiving his first assignment from his father.

But now this was Arthurs job, appointed by Lorenzo. He had taken over as head of the family when they lost their father, just a year after Charles had received his first assignment.

The family didn't handle it well. The Leclerc's had almost started a full on war with the Gasly family of France. But Pascale, the matriarch, kept them in check.

The club was disgusting. It was the middle of the day so it was empty, aside from the club manager. The floor was covered in cups and bottles and odd sticky patches that that Charles was sure to avoid. There was the odd condom on the floor; Charles turned his nose up at that.

He checked the books, make sure the money was in order. He swapped out the cash in the safe for the drugs that the club sold. "Get this shithole cleaned up," he commanded the club manager and left.

The second club was much the same. He inspected the books and swapped the money in the safe for the drugs. This club was somehow dirtier than the first one. Several of the stall doors in the bathroom had been kicked in (Charles wasn't happy about leaving money for such things).

The third club Charles knew it be Arthurs favourite.

It wasn't a night club, more like a lounge. The lighting was low, with tables covering the floor. Comfortable, cosy booths lined the walls and the tables in the middle of the of the floor looked equally as comfortable. The art on the wall was tasteful and the air didn't stink like beer and piss.

Soft piano music greeted him and Charles realised why this was Arthurs favourite club. It felt legit.

Charles looked to the piano on the stage at the back of the club. There was a spotlight pointed towards it, illuminating the instrument and the girl playing it. As he approached, Charles watched her fingers dance across the keys. The tune was soft and melodic, not something that he recognised.

She seemed to be the only person in the club. "One second, Arthur!" She called, not looking up from her piano.

Charles stopped short. "I'm sorry?" He called and the piano music stopped. "Are you always familiar with my brother?"

Her eyes were wide as she stood and closed the lid of her grand piano. "Shit," she hissed, but Charles still heard it. "I'm so sorry, Mr Leclerc. I was expecting your brother."

Charles stepped onto the stage. His presence alone was terrifying, a far cry from Arthur, who treated the pianist like an old friend. She couldn't stop her knees from buckling as he approached. "He got shot," Charles said as he sat at the piano. "He'll be back in action soon."

He lifted the lid of the piano and pressed a key. As a boy Chalres had loved the piano. His father had encouraged him to play, but he hadn't touched a piano since Hervé dad passed. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to play more than a few notes.

"Are you the manager here?" Charles asked, again shutting the piano lid. She shook her head, eyes looked towards the bar while he continued to stare at her. "You shouldn't be in here, then."

She sucked in a breath. The gun in his waistband had become apparent the moment he sat at the piano. "Uhm, Arthur gave me a key so that I could come in and practice," she said as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Charles let out something of a controlled huff and stood from the piano. He headed past the stage, to where the office was, and instantly began searching through the desk for the books.

The pianist followed him. "You shouldn't be in here," he said and pulled out the papers he needed. She was still standing in the doorway as he checked through it. "Seriously, get out."

"I'm sorry," she said, still leaning against the door frame. "I just... is Arthur okay?"

Charles stared at her for a moment before nodding his head, but he didn't look happy. "A minor gunshot wound," he said. "He's sleeping on our mouths couch at the moment."

Letting out a relieved breath, she walked away from the back office, allowing Charles to swap the money in the safe for drugs.

When he returned to the main floor, the piano was empty. The lid was open, but the pianist wasn't there. Charles didn't check for where she was.

He sat himself at the piano and pressed three keys in a specific tune. It was all so familiar to him, flooding back to him. It had been so long, but it was natural. It was right.

The pianist, Y/N, was at the bar, getting herself a glass of water. The moment she saw Charles walk to the piano she stopped and watched.

He was hesitant at first, allowing himself to get used to the keys. But it didn't take very long for him to get comfortable. Soon enough he was playing like it was the only thing he knew today.

It wasn't perfect, it was barely good, but it was full of heart and soul. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him as he sped up slightly, getting more and more comfortable. There was nothing in the world but him and the music.

Finishing up the song Charles sucked in and rolled his shoulders. He looked around the club, looked at the empty tables, at the art on the wall and at the bar.

He narrowed his eyes as he stood up and walked over. "Were you watching me?" He demanded and she quickly shook her head, looking down at the glass of water in her hands.

"Don't," he barked and marched out of the club.

Permanent taglist: @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @minkyungseokie @formulaal @darleneslane @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris

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lexabitxh · 2 months

Text

S.W | Drunk Confession

summary: y/n gets a bit too drunk, and confesses her feelings unknowingly to sam winchester.

perspective: third person.

word count: 1837

The night was young and the Winchesters & l/n had finished up a case that took several days. It felt good to win. It was a pride and joy feeling they got to feel other than guilt and disappointment from other unsuccessful cases.

"Another round, on me."

Y/n said as she signaled the bartender and pointed at their empty shot glasses. It's been a long day and genuinely, they all needed this. A moment to unwind after a long week of hunting.

"You sure you haven't had enough?"

Sam said as he looked a little concerned. Y/n scoffed, "Now I understand why your brother calls you so uptight. Stop being such a chick, Sam" she said, while taking down another shot of rum.

Sam felt the need to be the one sober for the night. Usually he'd drink a few shared beers with Dean, but being that Y/n was tagging along, it required someone responsible to take care of the two. Dean let out a chuckled, "I'm starting to like her" he said, pointing at her while popping a fry into his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance at the two's behavior, they always acted so childish.

•

"Dean, you're drunk-"

"I'm not drunk, I'm awesome" Dean slurred his words, laughing as he clinked his glass of beer with Y/n. They've been drinking for hours and slowly but surely they were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Sam shook his head in disappointment, not sure what to do anymore.

"Stop being such a party pooper, Sam and loosen up a little. Just have one drink with us." she insisted while playfully nudging his shoulder with hers.

You'd think since you can't beat them, you might as well join them... but being that Sam was... well Sam, he'd spend the rest of his night looking after the two, hoping they wouldn't get themselves into any trouble.

•

'Na-na-na, come on

Na-na-na, come on'

S&M was blasting through the speakers, while Sam drove the car back to their motel. Dean sat in the passenger seat, his window rolled down as he was swaying his upper body to the beat, bopping his head to the rhythm. Y/n sat in the back, her hands in the air while singing to the top of her lungs.

She could feel the liquor coming up to surface, but managed to contain herself together. She knew if she were to throw up inside the impala, Dean would kill her himself and dispose of the body without a sweat.

'Love is great, love is fine (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)

Out the box, outta line (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)'

Sam kept glancing from Dean to Y/n, laughing just a little. He's never seen this side of Dean before. It was nice seeing him all loose and happy, it's as if everything they've done in life so far, all the good and bad things had disappeared for the time being.

"'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it!!" Y/n sang while Dean tried his very best, but fail miserably as most of his words came out sounding gibberish.

Sam contained his laughter as he kept glancing through the review mirror, watching Y/n dance with a drink in her hand, her eyes closed for the most part, but even so, she looked enticing. The way she was feeling herself. Her lips, her eyes, the was she felt the music through her body.

At one point he lost control of the wheel, causing every one of them to jerk just a little. "Eyes in the road, buddy" Dean said as he took another swig from his beer. Sam looked back only to find that Y/n was no longer in his eyes-of-sight.

"Y/n?" He did a quick look-over only to find her slumped in the backseat, passed out. "Great."

•

Sam pulled into the motels parking lot, putting the car in park before turning off the engine. He sat there for a moment, watching Dean struggle to get out before in doing so. To his surprise, Dean had somehow managed to get inside their motel room without a problem. Sam shook his head and he got out to check on Y/n.

"Y/n?"

He had opened her side door and peeped inside, lightly shaking her awake, but she barely moved except making a few grunting noises.

"Mmh??"

"We're back at the motel... c'mon, let's go" he said softly. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere anytime soon with her current state, so with that being he helped her out. "Careful" he said as he grabbed her by her waist and wrapped one arm around his neck.

"Ok, ok, let's make this easier for you" he said as he scooped her up bridal style and carried her back inside. He used his foot to close the door on the way in, looking around for Dean before noticing him dead asleep on the floor.

"Alright... here we go..."

Said Sam as he gently placed her on her bed. He grabbed a blanket and placed it on her as he then removing her boots. Before he could walk away, Y/n grabbed him by his arm.

"Sam..."

Sam stood there awkwardly, looking down at her as the touch of her hand made him feel all sorts of feelings.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you..." she mumbled as she was trying so hard to open her eyes. "You're a good friend" she slurred, causing Sam to chuckle lightly. "Of course" he replied, "Get some rest."

"Also, you're a cute, Sam." she said, which caught him by surprise. "W-what?"

"You. Are. Cute..." she whispered, "and stupid." Sam was taken aback from her last comment, narrowing his brows together as he tried so hard not to smile. "But I like your stupid face. It's so stupid. It's so... I like it. Can I touch it?" she said while attempting to reach for his face, but was far from her touch.

He laughed a little. "You're drunk, Y/n" he said as he brushing her hair to the side.

"Yes I am. And I'm hopelessly in love with Sam Winchester... but it's a secret. Sam can't find out about this" She mumbled.

Sam could feel his cheek burning up about the confession. A smile so wide he could hardly contain his excitement. "Alright, it's our little secrete then" he reassured her.

"Pshhh"

"Shhhh"

He gestured as he smiled down at her.

"Goodnight, y/n" he said, hoping to get one in return, but she had quickly fallen asleep. He stood there for a little longer, watching her sleep peacefully. He shook his head, smiling like an idiot before going to bed. He figured he'd take the opportunity to enjoy the entire bed to himself, considering that Dean had taken the floor.

•

Y/n had woken up to the room spinning, her eyes having a hard time adjusting to the sunlight that shun in her face. She looked around the room. Dean no where to be seen and Sam sitting by the small table, who seems to be reading something off his laptop.

"What time is it?"

She said as she didn't remember how she gotten to bed last night. Sam looked up and smiled, "It's one in the afternoon. Don't worry, there's no case for the day" he assured her. "There's some ibuprofen and a glass of water right next to you" he pointed.

"You're a life saver"

She said, reaching for it as she popped the pills and swallowed it down with the glass of water. The water had quench her thirst, but she still felt hungover. "What happened last night?" She'd asked.

"You mean you don't remember?"

Y/n shook her head, "the last thing I remember was singing in the car to Rihanna. Which now thinking back to it, that was pretty embarrassing" she laughed a little. "you have no idea what you did last night" Sam chuckled mischievously, causing Y/n to worry.

"Samuel. What did I do?"

She asked, unsure of what she might've done that could be so bad other than having a karaoke with Dean Winchester. "I was promised not to tell" he said while gesturing his lips sealed.

"Sammy!" She yelled in annoyance, kneeling on her bed as she was intrigued of what she had done last night. Endless of possibilities had ran through her mind, but none that she could remember of. Sam shook his head, a cheeky smile on his lips as he didn't say a word. "C'mon, Sam! Just tell me!" She pleaded.

Sam knew how'd she react if she knew what she'd done last night, and he didn't wanted to put her through that embarrassment. Though there was nothing to be embarrassed about because if he was too being honest, he felt the same way about her.

"Well, if you really wanna know..." he said as he closed his laptop, "you said my face looks stupid" he said pausing before going on. "And that you liked my stupid face."

It all came back to her. She felt her body go numbed and her cheek flush with a bright burning sensation of red. "You remembered now" Sam teased, causing her to grab ahold of a pillow and shoving her face into it. In that moment, she wanted to die.

"Oh. My. God!"

She cried as she got up from her bed. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I-I was drunk, and it felt easier for me to confess... I didn't want you to find out this way. How embarrassing!" She cried as she buried her face into the palm her hands.

Sam quickly got up. "Hey, it's alright" he reassured her, gently removing her hands from her face and holding them in his.

"I'm glad you told me. Cause I don't think I'd ever have the courage to tell you how I felt" he said. "You, too, have a stupid, cute face" he quoted her, laughing just a little. "And I like that" he added.

"You do?"

Sam nodded as he gotten closer to her, closing the gap between them. "I like you, Y/n." He said as he leaned down to place a soft kiss against her lips. All her worries had melted away in that moment of bliss. She'd dream of this very exact moment, but she'd never imagined this is how it'd happen. Over a drunk confession.

They were soon utterly interrupted by Dean, who had bursted into the room with bags of food. "Woah, what I miss?" He said as he had caught them by surprise.

Y/n and Sam looked at each other, a shade of pink on their cheeks as they held hands like kids in love.

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #deancas #sam and dean #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #fanfic #yn #imagine #the winchesters #gif

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prettybean · 5 months

Text

TOXIC BEHAVIOR (COD +18)

* just for fun, don’t take it too seriously 🍌

I DO NOT SUPPORT THIS KIND OF RELATIONSHIP, if you find yourself in these situations, ask for help

If these topics make you uncomfortable, please avoid reading further.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Ghost

He just can't accept the fact that you ended things with him. It's been three months since the breakup, but Simon has completely lost it, especially when he found out that you're engaged again.

He keeps calling you persistently, and out of habit, you always answer. You hear him say the same old phrases: "I'm better than him" or "Come back to me, you know you can't be happy without me."

Despite the breakup, you've agreed to have sex with him several times. The way he pleases you makes your heart race faster and faster. Deep down, you know it's not fair to your new boyfriend, but when Simon touches you, you forget about everything else.

After years of being together, he knows your body inside out. He knows exactly how to make you moan, and he's not afraid to remind you of that. "I bet you don't scream like that with him." And as he says it, he fucks you like only he can.

"Do I have to kill him to win you back? You know I would." And as he says those words, he takes you to new heights of pleasure.

Soap

He has an unhealthy fixation on exerting control over you. John wants to demonstrate to others just how much you are under his command and how obediently you follow his every instruction.

"I've got something special for you," he informed you, as he fasten a collar around your neck, tightening it to the point where it became difficult to breathe. He didn't care about your discomfort; the tighter the collar, the more possession he felt over you.

"Do you like it, sweetie?" he asked, gazing at his name engraved on the collar, emphasizing how much he had invested in you. "If you ever remove it, it would truly break my heart."

You had no choice but to comply; it was the only option available to you. You kept the collar on, and he took advantage of it more and more, forcing you to go out in public with fewer and fewer clothes, showcasing you as his prized possession.

"No panties today, baby," he forcefully rip them off, leaving you to walk around without them. You belonged solely to him, and you had to face the consequences by fulfilling his every desire.

Price

His protectiveness quickly transformed into possessiveness. He never bothers to inquire about your dating life, your activities, or your whereabouts. Your outings are solely determined by his decisions.

If he doesn't suit your preferences, he might even tie you up to acknowledge his authority.

"Darling, it's all about your safety. I don't want anyone to harm you."

He accompanies you everywhere, and you must remain by his side. When you walk, he clings possessively to your arm. "Stay close to me, sweetheart."

If you attempt to engage in conversation with someone else, he tightens his grip on your waist, glaring at you. "What did I tell you?" he growls before promptly escorting you home.

Nevertheless, you adore his way of expressing love. You have always obeyed his commands because, after all, he is your boyfriend.

Gaz

You never truly loved him and he couldn't accept that fact. For months, he persistently tried to flirt with you, but you rejected him in every possible way. However, he refused to give up.

You couldn't help but notice his strange attempts to manipulate you. Strangely enough, you found yourself enjoying the attention and the way he tried to make you fall for him.

Every day, he would tell you, "You're the reason I'm so miserable, don't you see? It's all because of you." With a disappointed expression, he would repeat this over and over, gazing into your eyes.

He started writing you letters, each one becoming more explicit, expressing how he would pleasure you if only you would accept his love. He even went as far as to say he would eliminate any competition just to have you.

Slowly, you found yourself giving in to the temptation and his relentless manipulations. In the end, he succeeded in making you fall in love with him.

Graves

He's consumed by jealousy, and he doesn't even try to hide it. He repeatedly tells you how jealous he is and how wrong you are in your relationship. "If you could just stop thinking about other people, then maybe we wouldn't fight so much."

He wants to have complete control over your every move, to the point where he even took your phone to read all your messages, from the very first to the very last. If he finds anything he doesn't like, he doesn't hesitate to delete the contact of the person involved. "I'm sick of you and your damn friends."

You want to tell him that he's a psychopath and that he needs to respect your privacy, but you simply can't. He keeps blaming you, saying, "It's because of you that I'm like this."

There have been multiple instances where he's punched walls out of anger or broken your phone to cut off your contact with others.

But in the end, he always comes back to you with open arms, apologizing. And every time, you forgive him.

König

He's been tailing you nonstop. It's been ages since you two called it quits, yet every time you step out, you can't shake off the feeling of being watched.

He's always there, meticulously tracking your every move, whether you're alone or with your friends.

König watches you from a distance, careful not to get too close and blow his cover. He even went as far as snapping some pictures of you, which he proudly displayed on his wall, among others.

He used to keep you company during those long nights, lurking in your backyard, peering through your window just to catch you changing or totally naked.

You were well aware of it, and to make things easier for him, you purposely left the curtains open. König was undeniably creepy, but deep down, you still harbored a hint of affection for him.

Keegan

He’s in love with you. Keegan expresses his love through the most unexpected gestures, but only when you're alone together. When there are other people around, he transforms into the perfect gentleman - kind and flawless. Your friends have even praised you for choosing such a great guy.

But when you return home, everything changes. It's happened multiple times that he's embraced you from behind, gently caressing your hips and leaving a trail of wet kisses along your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more space, only to feel something cold against your skin.

"The only way I can make you do what I want is by holding a knife to your throat?" he says, his words making you flinch. Every time he threatens you like this, it feels as if it's the first time.

"I know you enjoy provoking me, otherwise you wouldn't do it so often," he claims. You haven't done anything wrong, he just likes making you believe that. He enjoys seeing the fear in your eyes as he grabs your wrists and forces you to your knees.

You beg him to continue, knowing that he doesn't appreciate it when you oppose him. You have no reason to resist. He controls you, able to do whatever he pleases with you, especially when he lets the knife glide across your body.

"Tell me you'd die for me”.

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snzleclerc · 14 days

Text

we’ll be alright

summary: You and Charles have been distant lately due to work pressure, but eventually find comfort in each other. Everything ends well.

❕gf!reader, angst, fluff, some smut.

As another day drags you home later than expected, tossing your things on the couch, without a care in the world.

Your relationship with Charles seems to have been deteriorating for a while now. You've been together for quite some time, but at this point, it feels like you don't even know each other, despite living under the same roof.

All you wanted were some days off to spend with the love of your life, but the rush and daily madness always make it impossible. You slowly open the bedroom door, finding a weary Charles, shirtless and wrapped in the expensive white sheets of your cozy room.

Ah, so many moments in this room... You remember the day Charles surprised you with flowers and chocolates on your anniversary. When he took care of you while you had a bad flu. How he treated you when you had severe cramps. The little fashion shows you put on for him when you bought new clothes. All of this was proof that your love didn't end here.

But first, you needed a hot and relaxing shower to renew all your energies. With everything prepared, you step into the bathroom, turn on the shower, but don't lock the door.

As you rinse the last of the shampoo from your hair, you hear the sound of the door opening and come face to face with a sleepy Charles.

Silently, he comes toward you, takes off his own clothes, standing completely naked in front of you, steps into the shower with you, wraps his hands around your waist, and stares deeply at you in a way you've never noticed before.

It's a look of longing, emotion, but above all, love.

You admire each other for a few seconds before his lips touch yours. Your small hands go to his uncut hair, he tightens his grip on your waist, and the kiss expresses the same thing as that look. He pushes you against the wall and kisses you with increasing intensity, feeling his cock against your skin.

Slowly, even with the water running down your bodies, he kneels in front of you and puts one of his beautiful, moisturized legs over his broad shoulder, wanting to feel you even more.

The touch of his tongue and fingers is enough to make you cum very quickly; he lost count of how many times you came so fast that night. He knows the power he has over you, and you know it too. You haven't exchanged a single word, only your muffled moans can be heard in the bathroom.

He rises again to meet your eyes and starts spreading kisses on you. On your forehead, on your nose, on your temple, on your mouth, on your cheek, on your neck, on your nape, on every possible place.

A few more caresses are shared until one of you turns off the shower and you both step out to dry off. Without saying anything, you rub the soft towels on your bodies and exchange looks and smiles. You could faint just by looking at the beautiful dimples of your boyfriend.

You both put on comfortable clothes again and lie down, he with one hand on your waist and the other stroking your hair, he knows you love that. As for you, you have one of your hands on his strong chest and the other on his arms, making small circles in place. Then, finally, the silence is broken.

"You've been missed so much, mon cœur," he tells me, in the quiet of the calm room. "I'm sorry for the past few days," he continues. "I love you, mon amour”

“I love you more than anything in my life, Charlie.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #original character #cl16 x reader #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris #carlos sainz fanfic #cl16 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #fluff #smut #hot #oscar piastri

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bc-jpeg · 1 year

Text

so uh- I didn't see if this theory already exists in the fandom, or no one really touched on it, but after a long time in both fandoms, one funny pattern is noticeable. I’m so obsessed with watchers lore so much, which is why I started to go beyond only one universe, and this gave the result. so the theory is that dreamxd is a watcher. after digging into the dsmp lore, I found several points that may indicate this. dxd’s nature may differ from the canonical nature of the watchers that we see in evo smp and in the life-seasons in martyn’s lore, but we also already have a watcher!grian, whose watcher's nature also differs in its own way from that very canon, he has his own lore, so this will also work here.

now this will be only my personal version of watcher!dxd lore, there may still be holes in it, but this is only as a possible base:

presumably dreamxd is an ex-manhunt!dream, who could not get out of the world and stuck in the spectator mode of the game, becoming a watcher. in the initial attempts to escape from such a fate and get out (I don't think dream would just accept such a fate), he was crippled either by other watchers or by himself, having lost his "eye". this explains the basic visual interpretation of the dxd, where the place where the eyes should have been is now a familiar cross pattern.

isolating himself from other watchers, dxd created a time loop from the existing world, from which he initially could not get out, closing access to the end dimension for players, preventing both the players themselves from escaping, and the possibility of capturing these players to other watchers for their own time loops. the world with the manhunt seed was restarted, defaulting almost everything to zero, which eventually became the dsmp server. all interactions between players and server events began to give dxd so much energy and power that eventually the essence of the watcher completely absorbed him, dxd himself began to provoke events, interact directly with players, and all for the sake of energy, emotions, deaths that made him only stronger. dsmp became an excellent loop-feeder for him only, in which he completely lost his original humanity, becoming a monster, creating only chaos.

one of the risky but effective dxd’s moves of was giving the revival book and the book of death to players inside the time loop, which in a peculiar way gave them access to part of dxd’s powers. he realized how unpredictable players can be in their decisions and actions, which gave a ton of events possibilities. he wouldn't have to provoke events himself, when players can do everything for him, giving the same amount of energy.

so in the final of the dsmp, after that nuclear explosion, dxd simply restarted the entire time loop, as it was shown. the players don't remember anything that happened, they don't remember each other, the whole world was defaulted to zero, where they started all over again.

it’s also interesting that the concepts of limbo and dreams/illusions exist both in the dsmp lore and in watchers lore in life-seasons. limbo is the space where players end up with the loss of all their canonical lives, and there is no return from there, only at the whim of mystical powers (dsmp — the revival book, as part of the dxd’s powers, life-seasons — the watchers, more specifically watcher!grian).

both concepts somehow intersect with each other:

> in the dsmp, they intersected in the c!george’s lore, he had partial access to limbo through his own dreams, where dxd himself was also often present. someone also had the opportunity to watch server events from limbo.

> in life-seasons, according to cc!martyn, limbo is the space where all players get to after the final death and are there between seasons in a state of sleep, in which they see their own smps/universes.

again, this is just a possible version of how exactly this theory/head-cannon can work, there are a lot of things that I could not explain yet, because there is too much information from different dsmp povs. some things I remember, some not at all, but I left a hint of their possible intersection visually in the diagram. the theory of the smps-multiverse is here simply by default, all the other main points are indicated in this diagram. all of this will be easily editable at any future time, my job is just to throw in the base for this theory :D

#mcyt #mcyt fandom #trafficblr #dsmpblr #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp theory #traffic life smp #life series #traffic life series theory #life series theory #the watchers #dream xd #watcher grian #evo smp #the watchers lore #eyesandears

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justagalwhowrites · 4 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 26: Carved

You and Joel search for Savvy outside of Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst because... duh when do I not serve everything with a side of angst. I wish I could tell you why. Canon typical violence. Past suicide attempt. Suicidal ideation. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 10.7k (I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE EITHER OK)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It had gone unsaid for at least a day now.

Joel had been outside of Jackson with you for nine days and there was no sign of Savvy and it was time to turn back. He’d let you lead the way, picking directions, deciding when to stop for the day (within reason, he’d had to suggest breaks and point out the conditions of the horses at least once a day.) But there was nothing that pointed to her.

Your fourth day out, the two of you tracked a small group but it was about 10 people - three families with four kids between them - traveling to Seattle. When you found them, they were low on food so the two of you handed over the bulk of your rations. Joel told them about Jackson while you showed the younger kids the horses, keeping the occupied with a soft smile on your face as you patiently taught them how to pet Renaissance, how they had to hold their palms flat when offering her food. Joel wondered, not for the first time, how he’d never realized that you were a mother. It was so clearly built into you now that he knew to look for it. The families said they were heading for the coast and Joel hoped they found their way.

Day seven led you both to an abandoned camp that had been occupied by some kind of small party but nothing to indicate if it was raiders or someone else, though there was at least one horse. The two of you tracked that group for the last two days but they went into a stream they didn’t immediately ford and you lost the trail entirely.

“Fuck!” You dismounted into the water after you’d followed along the stream for several miles and seen no sign of the group on the shore. You kicked the water and screamed - the sound shrill and almost feral, more animal than human - before you fell to your knees. You collapsed back onto your heels as the stream flowed around your legs. You didn’t seem to notice.

Joel got down from his horse, too, gathering the reins of both animals and tying them to a nearby tree before meeting you in the water. He slowly lowered himself down on one knee, careful to leave some space between the two of you. Your hands were limp atop your thighs, palms facing to the sky, head bowed, prostrate to whatever higher power would bring your daughter back.

“Bambi,” he said softly. You didn’t even lift your head. This loss hit hard, he knew. The sign of a horse had perked you up. You had sat up straighter in your saddle, your eyes had more life in them. Your body had carried the signs of hope and those signs were gone now. “It doesn’t mean anything. It could have been anyone, just because…”

“What if she’s gone, Joel?” You asked, your voice cracked and broken. “What if it wasn’t a lie, what if…”

“Don’t know that,” he cut you off.

You’d told him what Mitchum had said to you, what he’d shown you as proof that your child was gone. The thought of it had nearly made him vomit, all but choking down bile as you spoke.

It had broken you for a while. More than a year, from the sounds of it. But, one day, you decided you couldn’t know what had happened to her, not really. Mitchum hadn’t given you any actual proof. He’d told you something he knew would torture any parent, gave you the piece of a beloved animal as a trophy. But the horse had been the older one, the smaller one. The one that could have been caught while Savvy slipped away on the younger, larger animal. So you made yourself move again, made yourself start preparing for a life beyond the place they kept you chained. You made sure you were ready to search when the time came.

Joel wasn’t sure if it was delusional or if it was discerning, if your mind was just desperate to find a reason to keep living or if you were seeing the holes in the logic of the cruelty forced on you.

“You can’t know,” he said. “Not for sure. Not unless we find her.”

“What if she died afraid and alone?” You asked, like you didn’t even hear him. But you lifted your head at least, your eyes finding his. “What if she was cold or hurting? She gets cold so easy, she always wears socks, even in summer… I could have held her, at least, I could have made it easier…”

Joel tried not to think about Sarah. About holding her, telling her that everything was going to be OK. About how his last words to her had been a lie. About how he wasn’t sure the last time he’d told her that he loved her. About how he wasn’t sure if telling her that as she bled out in his arms would have made it better or worse.

“You don’t know,” he said instead. “You taught her everything you knew, right? Means she’s smart, she’s resourceful. She’s out there, Baby, she is.”

You just looked at him, your eyes flat and dead and he wondered, for a moment, if that’s what Tommy saw looking back at him in the years before they made it to Boston.

“C’mon,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t shrink away from him. “Let’s get out of the water, it’ll be dark real soon, anyway. We can find a place to camp here, get you dried off.”

You didn’t say anything, you just hung your head, looking down at your hands again.

“Bambi,” he said after a minute. “Can’t help her by stayin’ here. We gotta keep you going and that means getting out of this cold water, now let’s go. Not going to do her any good if you get sick out here, let’s go.”

You nodded a little at that and Joel got up himself before helping you to your feet. He guided you to the horses and gave you Renaissance’s reins before leading you to a place far enough away from the stream that anyone following it wouldn’t see you but close enough that it would be easy enough to refill canteens.

He set up camp and got out dry clothes from your pack.

“Bambi,” he said gently. You at least looked at him, even though your eyes still looked dead. “Should get changed out of those wet clothes. I’m going to go get us somethin’ to eat real quick, you get dry. OK?”

You took the pants and socks from Joel but just stared at them for a moment.

“Have to change, OK?” He said, watching you. “Can’t help her if you’re sick or hurt. Not good to sit in wet clothes for too long, gotta change.”

You nodded then and he slung his rifle over his arm.

“Gonna be alright for a bit?” He asked. You nodded. “Gonna come back to you in one piece, right?”

You nodded again, though Joel still felt uneasy.

“Back soon,” he said.

He picked his way carefully through the forest, back toward the stream where there’d been plenty of signs of animal life. Since the two of you had given most of your rations to the travelers, he’d hunted almost daily. It reminded him of crossing the country with Ellie and, under other circumstances, he’d probably enjoy being out here like this with you.

In another reality, he’d bring his guitar. After the two of you hunted together, he’d play and you’d sing and then he’d hand the instrument to you and he’d sing while you played and you’d sit so that your body was against his, where he could feel the heat of you beside him. When the fire died, you’d climb in the same sleeping bag and he’d hold you close and tight and kiss you all soft and needy. You’d moan against his mouth and he’d slip inside you as though he belonged there, at home between your thighs and burrowed against your chest.

Instead he was alone and worried about leaving you unattended.

He remembered what he’d been like after Sarah died.

It wasn’t a pleasant memory. It was hard to recall the exact feeling in those early days of loss. When he focused on it, tried to actually get an idea of that hell, he was often reminded of the idea that mothers forget the pain of labor when it’s done. How the agony fades so they can face the idea of giving birth again. He wondered if that’s what his mind had done, too. If his head made that time hazy and lost so he could keep on living because surviving that again would be impossible. He’d never risk it.

He hadn’t wanted to survive it then. He’d tried not to, lasting not even a day without his daughter’s kind smile or keen gaze or smart mouth before he pressed a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

For a very long time, he didn’t know why he flinched. For a very long time, he wished it had worked. And something told him that he had the same look in his eyes then that you had now.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got you back to Jackson. The two of you needed to turn back, you couldn’t just stay out here forever. Maria said he could have two weeks and he figured it would be OK if he pushed that by a bit but he couldn’t disappear with you for the time it took to comb every square mile of the wilderness.

What if you gave up like him? You were so much stronger than him. You wouldn’t flinch away from it, he knew that. What if you surrendered to it and he wasn’t there to save you? What if you just didn’t show up at the stables one morning and he went to find you and instead found your body, cold and empty and alone? Just what was left of you, surrounded by your music collection and the guitar he made you and the books you scrawled notes in, all these signs pointing to your life that would be gone. His might be gone, then, too.

He settled in what he thought was a good spot, signs of rabbits plentiful. Joel set up behind a fallen log, setting up the gun, and waited. It didn’t take long. A bush rustled nearby and he turned, quickly, before going still, gun set and ready. A minute passed, then two. Finally, a rabbit emerged, taking a cautious hop into the open. He fired and it fell. He slung the gun on his back and picked the animal up - carefully, deliberately - its hind legs still warm, sinews pliable.

He turned to start back to camp when he froze. Ahead of him was a deer, graceful and fragile, eyes wide and soft and watching him like he was watching her. Something in a nearby tree rustled and she startled for a second, wild and cautious, but stilled before looking back at Joel. At her feet was a tiny fawn, its coat speckled and its legs spindly and splayed. The mother watched him closely, like she was trying to figure out if this two-legged creature in her forest was a threat. He wondered if she’d ever seen a person before.

“It’s OK mama,” he said softly after a moment. “Not gonna hurt you or your baby. You’re OK.”

She watched him for another moment, not jumping when he moved - slowly - to stand up straight. It was like part of her could feel that he was safe, that she didn’t need to be so on guard with him. Eventually, she hung her head low, nudging her baby forward. Joel watched them until they were swallowed by the forest, mother leading her child through the wilderness.

***

Life in the forest around you felt loud.

You couldn’t make much out, all of it melding together into a drone that you could feel in your ears. There were crickets and birds and frogs and the rustle of leaves and it meant you couldn’t hear the blood in your ears anymore. Or maybe you could and the wilderness had swallowed you up, too.

That seemed like the best option. To disappear into the earth with the untamed things. Maybe it would stop hurting then.

You weren’t entirely sure how far you’d gone. Joel had woken you early that morning. You’d been in the middle of a dream, one that you couldn’t remember now. You just knew that your heart was racing and you kept feeling like there was something just out of your reach, something you desperately needed to get to.

“Bambi,” he said gently, a hand on your shoulder. There was something in you that wanted to pull away but you didn’t. You stayed where you were, fumbling through your mind as you tried to remember why your heart was threatening to race out of your chest. You looked up at him, a sad look in his eyes. He always had that look now, it seemed. He took his hand back. “Sorry… You were dreaming… Didn’t seem like it was anythin’ good.”

You just nodded and pinched your eyes shut for a moment. It didn’t seem to make a difference.

Joel gave you something to eat - you couldn’t really taste it - and you stared into space between bites, back propped against a tree.

“Bambi,” he said, in a tone that made it seem like it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. You turned your head to look at him, fidgeting with some of the meat Joel had given you. “We… we really need to consider heading back to Jackson.”

You frowned.

“But…”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m so sorry we didn’t find her yet. But we need to turn back, this is day 10 and it’s gonna take a few days to make it…”

“I can’t just give up on her, Joel,” you said quietly. “I can’t, I…”

“I’m not saying give up on her,” he replied. “I’m saying that we go back to town, let the horses rest, plan where else to go next time. If… if we’re smart about it, we can search a good portion of the region without backtracking and covering the same ground twice, give us a better shot. But we can’t do that out here, Baby, we just can’t. We don’t have the rations, we’ll run out of ammo if we run into trouble, the horses will be pushed too hard. We need to go back.”

You knew he was right. But it still felt so wrong, going back to Jackson without her.

“We can take a different route back?” You asked, ready to fight him if he said no.

“Course,” he said. “We’ll see what we can find, OK? But we need to head back.”

You sighed, looking out to the forest you hadn’t searched, something tight and sickening settling in your stomach, like if you just pushed a little harder, went a little further, you’d find her.

“OK.”

The sun was high and you thought you’d been riding for a while but it was hard to know for sure. You were trying to focus on everything but you had been for more than a week, and you were worried you were missing things in the haze of fog that had over taken you. Joel kept looking back over his shoulder to you, like he was making sure you were still following him even though you knew there must be the sound of you behind him.

He looked back over his shoulder at you 13 more times - some part of you was keeping count, always aware of him - when you saw something off the trail and frowned.

You pulled Renaissance to a stop and dismounted, Joel doing a double take back at you when he realized you were no longer following him.

“Jesus, Bambi,” he brought Ares to a halt and got down, too, coming up alongside you. “Gotta tell me when you see something…”

“Sorry,” you said, not looking at him. Instead, you picked your way through the brush toward what had made you stop to begin with. It was a trap, a slender branch from a young tree pulled down toward the ground, rope pulled tight.

“Is that…” Joel frowned, so close you could feel him next to you. It didn’t bother you the way it had back in Jackson. It still sent a thrill of fear through you, making your muscles coil and tense, body preparing to defend yourself even though you knew you didn’t need to. But part of you found it oddly comforting, too. In some ways, it felt good to have him close.

“It’s a snare,” you said, kneeling beside it. You looked closer at the rope, the fibers turning green and fraying at the edges. You reached out, delicately tracing the curve of the branch with one finger. “I think it’s been here for a bit.”

Joel was silent for a moment.

“Do you think…”

“She makes these,” you said softly. “I showed her how to make a few snares, this is the one she uses the most.”

Joel knelt beside you and you looked at him. His face was soft and eyes warm, looking less pained than you’d seen him in weeks. He got closer to the pins that kept the snare ready to snap up whatever might trigger it.

“Think you’re right on the timing,” he said. “There’s some moss startin’ in down here, been here at least a month. Probably closer to two.”

“She wouldn’t have just left it here,” you said as Joel sat back from the trap. “She was good about that, she always got her traps, she remembered where she put them and she got them back. She wouldn’t have just left it here…”

“Is it OK if I take it down?” Joel’s voice was so gentle and soft, like he was holding a delicate thing with his words. “You can take a closer look at it, see if it really looks like hers…”

You just nodded, not sure if you’d be able to speak around the knot in your throat. Joel delicately released the snare and freed the pins, one from the rope and the other from the ground. He set them, almost reverently, in your open palm and set about untying the rope from the slender branch.

You held the pins tightly in your fist for a moment, as though you could absorb some part of Savvy through them if she’d held them like that once. When the wood felt as warm as your fingers and Joel was still beside you, holding the coil of rope, you opened your hand, picking up one of the pins and looking at it closely.

You’d been the one who showed Savvy how to carve these pins. You’d never been particularly good at woodworking, nothing like Joel with his even, guided knife strokes that shaped the material into something that seemed to have been held within the grain of it from the beginning, he just helped reveal it. Your daughter was better at it than you. Where your pins were always jagged and harsh, hers had an elegance and smoothness to them, precision in her cuts that you’d never been able to find on your own. You’d always wondered if she’d gotten that trait from her mother or her father, if Mark had been able to shape things and you just hadn’t known. Maybe he hadn’t even known.

The pins in your fingers were fine and almost smooth and your hand shook as you traced the arc of one.

“Bambi?” Joel said softly.

“These are hers,” you said, voice thick. “She… she is so good at making these, hers are always so precise and smooth and almost artistic and…”

He gently took one from you and you let him. He examined it, too, looking closely.

“I don’t know where she got it from,” you said, looking at him. “I never… I couldn’t teach her to do it that well, I taught her the basics but she is just good. Even when she makes them quick they’re just good and these are hers, Joel, I know they are.”

“What would make her abandon a trap?” He asked after a moment, looking back at you.

You thought for a second.

“Bad weather, maybe,” you said. “If… if she got hurt. If something drove her out of the area and she didn’t have time to collect everything or if she was too hurt to go back for it, that’s the only thing.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the pin.

“Joel,” your voice trembled. “Joel, what if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her, what…”

“We don’t know anything yet,” he said gently. “It could have been bad weather and she packed up quick. Or she saw a threat and left before it saw her, too.”

“We have to look around here,” you said. “Please, Joel, I know we’re heading back but we have to look, I can’t…”

“We’ll look,” he said. “We’ll look, it’s OK.”

You just nodded and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. You did it without thinking, it was just instinct. Joel was stable and warm and smelled like home and you needed that. You needed him. He was still for a moment before he put an arm around you, holding you gently.

“We will find her, baby,” he said gently. “It’s OK.”

The two of you looked for signs of her immediately around the snare but you weren’t that discouraged when you didn’t find any. It had been weeks, footprints in mud and the scars of missing bark from trees would be long gone.

“Which way would she go?” Joel asked, watching you.

You sighed, looking around. Your heart was beating like you were running from something and at a fork in the road, forced to make a life or death choice.

“There’s water, northeast of here I think, right?” You said, trying to orient yourself. “She knew to stick near where she could find water, I think she’d head that way.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Then that’s where we’ll go.”

He watched you closely for a moment. Your jaw was tight, whole being taut and tense. He slowly, cautiously, reached for you, giving you every opportunity to pull away from him. You didn’t. Instead, you let him pull your worn body against his, his arms wrapping around you, his lips brushing your hair. You put your arms around him, looping them up and over his back, fingers splaying wide and clutching him close for a moment.

“It’s OK Bambi,” he said. You could feel his voice in his chest. “It’s going to be OK.”

You took the lead again, every direction change and choice feeling bigger than any other you’d ever made. Every path not followed hurt, a chance that you were losing. You tried not to think about it but your mind kept getting stuck, as though if you concentrated hard enough you could pull yourself apart and the pieces could keep searching. It didn’t matter much if you couldn’t put it all back together again. If you found her, it was worth it. If you didn’t, what would be the point.

Dusk was on the horizon when you started looking for a place to stop for the night.

“What’s that?” Joel said after you’d started looking for a good place to rest as well as for signs of Savvy. “To the east a bit?”

You looked back at him to see where he meant and followed his eye line. There was a bright spot through the trees about a football field away. You frowned a little.

“Worth looking at,” you looked back toward Joel. He just nodded before nudging Ares toward the bright spot and you followed with Renaissance. When you went to overtake him, he held his hand out.

“Should stay behind me,” he said. “Just… in case.”

You frowned a little but nodded and fell in behind him, watching as he brought his rifle forward. Your grip on Renaissance tightened and she huffed, her ears twitching.

It was almost a let down when it was just a small clearing. For a moment, you thought it was just a quirk of the forest but you saw another spot just beyond that was brighter, too. You dismounted.

“Got the map?” You asked, tying Renaissance off on a nearby tree before working your way through the brush to the other bright spot. It was a clearing, too. “Looks like campsites.”

“Here,” Joel said as you came back over, Ares tied off near Renaissance, the map in his hand. “We’re toward the north end of the Shoshone National Forest. Or should be, anyway.” You nodded, looking at the map. It didn’t have things like camp grounds marked that you could see. “Thinkin’ we’re about here.”

He pointed to a spot on the map and you nodded again.

“Near water,” you said, looking back up at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’d be a good spot.”

“Let me just…” you looked out toward the other clearing. “I’ll be back.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you just went back toward the other site, crossing it this time and working your way through the brush to another site. There were five all told and you found the remains of a fire at the fourth one. You knelt beside the small fire pit, the ash pile tall enough that you could tell it was from more than just a day or two. Joel appeared beside you.

“Someone was here,” you said, nodding at it. “For a little while.”

Joel’s hand went to the middle of your back and you jumped a little at his touch before you relaxed into it.

“Could be,” he said, replying to the words you couldn’t say. You just nodded.

The two of you settled in for the night, finishing off the rabbit from the night before. You tried not to think about patrolling with Joel. How you’d sit near him and find comfort in his presence, how you wanted to do everything beside him. Part of you still lived in that feeling. The rest of you was still chained to a wall, begging for help but getting none.

Joel hummed quietly as he carved - some small figure that you were curious about but couldn’t bring yourself to ask after - as you stared at the fire, watching the crackle as the wood popped and sparks flew.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” You asked, arms looped around your knees, looking across the flames to him when you couldn’t take the silence and distance anymore.

Joel frowned, raising his eyes to yours.

“No. Why would I think you’re crazy?”

“For doing this,” you said. “Searching with no real idea of where to go, endless space to look, all for someone I don’t…”

Your voice broke and you looked back at the fire.

“No,” he said gently. “Not crazy. I’d do the same thing.”

“Is that why you’re helping me?” You asked, looking back at him.

He considered you for a moment, a brief flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Part of it,” he said eventually. “But, Sweetheart… I’d do anything for you. Lookin’ for your girl… that’s… there’s no question. I’m always going to want to help you, always going to want to take care of you. Doesn’t matter what it is but especially with this.”

You nodded and buried your face in your arms for a moment before you sighed.

“I’m scared I’m losing my mind,” you said before looking back at him again. “I don’t know if… If what I’m thinking and hoping and basing all this around is real or if it’s just… For a while, when I was with them, when I thought she was gone, I wanted to die. There just wasn’t a reason for any of it and everything just hurt all the time but I couldn’t do it. I just kept living and I resented it. But, after a while, it’s like I talked myself out of it. I convinced myself that she could be out there. Just enough that I could forget how much it hurt. And then I got out. But every time I saw something that made me think that it could be a sign of her… I think I’ve been moving toward this for a long time. Where I can’t be in limbo anymore and can’t just avoid it, where I need to know and… I don’t know how much of it is real and smart and how much of it is something just made out of the hurt and the fact that it seemed like it should have killed me but it didn’t. I don’t know how sane any of it is, Joel. I don’t. But I don’t know if I can survive without it and…”

You buried your face in your arms again, tears stinging your eyes.

“I understand, Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him, frowning a little. “I did a lot of that when… after Sarah died. I knew she was gone, there wasn’t a question of that. I felt it happen. But… I couldn’t live with it, either.”

You frowned a little, watching him closely.

“Tried to end it,” he said, sniffing once, his voice tight. “Next day. Put a gun to my head, figured it’d be quick. Didn’t work, obviously. Flinched.”

“Joel…”

“Spent a lot of years after that hidin’ from it,” he continued, turning his carving over in his hands. “Tried not to think about her. Regret that now. Who knows what I forgot because I was so busy trying to not hurt. Tommy never even said her name. We never talked about her. But it seemed like the best part of my day was the half a second after I woke up when I didn’t remember she was gone. Always felt like she was in the next room, that I’d need to make sure she was moving to get out the door on time for school… It took a long time before I found something else to live for. And it sure seems like she found me, not the other way around. Then we came to Jackson and I… I found you. With her and with you, seemed like there was a reason I flinched back then. Like part of me knew there was a reason to go on and I’d find it eventually.

“You’ve got that, too. Even if… even if it’s not me and even if it doesn’t seem like it. You have things to live for, baby. Promise you do. You may not even know what they are yet but you have ‘em. You just have to keep living, that’s all. Just keep survivin’. Please.”

You watched him through the flames for a moment before you got up and came around the flames to sit beside him, close but not so close that you were touching. He froze as you leaned over, slowly, to rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad it didn’t work,” you said quietly.

“Me, too,” he replied after a moment.

“I don’t know what I want right now,” you said, watching the fire. “But I know that I’m glad you exist. That I want you to be happy.”

You felt him turn ever so slightly, his lips and his nose brushing the top of your head.

“I’m here for you,” he said softly. “However you want me, I’ll do whatever you want. As long as you’re safe and happy, I’ll do whatever you want.”

He held his large hand out to you, a small carving of a deer in his fingers. You took it, turning its delicate body in the light.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” he said quietly. “All yours either way.”

***

You wanted to follow the river the next day. Joel was fine with that, especially since you picked the route that curved back toward Jackson. Or, at least, in that general direction. It was still a few days ride and he’d already made notes of where you’d found signs of Savvy to come back and check again if the two of you didn’t find her on this trip out.

You were more yourself than you had been in a long time. The two of you stopped for lunch and to give the horses a longer break and Joel started carving again, just to give himself something to do besides look at you. That hurt too much.

“Can you teach me?” You asked after a few minutes. He looked at you for a moment, surprised you were talking to him at all. It had been a quiet almost two weeks with you.

“Sure,” he said before you had a chance to take it back. “Want to come sit by me? Grab…” he looked around for a moment before finding a hunk of wood on the ground that looked like it would work. “That there?”

You nodded and moved to be next to him. Careful, he noticed, to not touch him but close enough that you could easily see his hands. He cleared his throat.

“Want to find the grain of the wood,” he said, watching as you turned the chunk of wood in your hands. “Want to work with it, go against it and it’ll split.”

“Makes sense,” you said. Fuck, you were so close to him.

“Start with a rough cuts, get the outline of what you want to make,” he said. “Knife in your dominant hand, wood in the other. Hold it real firm and cut away from your body in thin slices, don’t go too deep or it’ll fracture.”

You nodded and looked at the wood again, frowning down at it.

“What do you want to make?” He asked after you didn’t move to cut it.

“A moose, I think,” you said. “Just not sure where to start.”

He nodded slowly.

“Can I?” He asked, hand out. You shrugged and handed the wood over. He turned it in his hands for a moment, getting a feel for the shape of it, finding the grain. “Here,” he said, holding it close to you. “Back’ll probably be this part here…” He notched the blade against the wood and cut into it. “That’ll make this the neck.” He adjusted the knife and cut again. “Legs down here. You try that one.”

He handed the wood back and your fingers brushed his as you took it. He clenched his hand into a fist in his lap, squeezing some of the tension swelling in him out before releasing it.

“Here?” You asked, lining up your knife.

“Yeah,” Joel said. “But turn it a bit so you’re cuttin’ more away from yourself…” He helped you adjust and felt your skin on his again. You made the cut. “There ya go. Go back over the whole thing like that, shave off a bit more…”

You nodded and set to work and Joel tried to not watch you too obsessively. He didn’t want to push you away or make you uncomfortable but fuck you were so close and you weren’t mad at him. So much of what he remembered of how you felt in his arms had gotten mixed up in the night you’d left Jackson, how he clutched onto you while you screamed. He wasn’t sure you’d ever let him close again and now you were beside him because you chose it. He couldn’t ruin it. He went back to his own carving.

“Alright,” you said eventually, holding up the wood. “Think I’ve got it. Now what?”

He looked at it and nodded.

“Good job,” he said. “There are two other kinds of cuts you’ll use for the rest of it. One where you pull the knife toward yourself - most common one - and one where you push it. Pull is a lot like paring, you’re gonna brace the wood with your thumb and then pull your knife towards it.”He showed you on his carving and you leaned in close, nodding. “Keep your thumb back so you don’t get hurt, though.”

You nodded and positioned your hands like his before pressing into the wood. The first cut was jagged but the beginning of the technique was there. And you didn’t cut your thumb, so it was enough for him to call it a success.

“Good,” he said and you looked up at him, smiling a little.

He showed you how to do the push stroke, too, and the two of you sat in near silence for a bit, working at your carvings. Joel kept glancing your way, trying to not look too long so he didn’t distract you but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it. He was close to you, close enough that your elbow brushed against him now and then and he could hear you breathing, with a reason to look at you. He’d have been happy to stay like that for hours, with birds singing and you breathing, like nothing bad had ever happened to either of you at all.

You’d made good progress when you cursed and hissed, dropping the wood and bringing your hand to your mouth.

“Cut your thumb?” He asked, setting his carving and knife down. You nodded, thumb between your lips. He held out his hand. “Lemme see.”

“Uh uh,” you muttered as you sucked on your injured finger.

“C’mon, Bambi,” he smiled a little. “Happens to everyone, especially when you’re learnin’. Lemme see it.”

You looked at him with those wide eyes of yours like you were half expecting him to judge you for your slip. But you sighed and pulled your thumb from your mouth and thrust your hand at him. He took it gently, yours so much smaller than his own that it seemed delicate even with the callus from guitar and riding on your fingertips and palms. The cut on your thumb started beading with blood before he had a chance to look at it and he frowned for a second before raising your hand to his mouth, putting your small hurt between his lips and pulling the salt and copper of you into him. Your breath hitched and Joel felt you stiffen beside him and it was only then that he realized what he’d done without thinking, the casual intimacy of caring for your body with his own. There was still a part of him that couldn’t accept the separation from you. It felt like an unnatural thing, you existing so separate from him that you could be hurting next to him and he was supposed to ignore it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He pulled your hand carefully from his mouth.

“Sorry,” he said, voice gruff, as he delicately examined the cut. It was deeper than he’d hoped but not to the bone. “S’not too bad, lemme just…” He released your hand and went into his bag, pulling out a scrap of fabric he had just for this kind of injury. He took your hand back and poured a little water over the cut before he wrapped it tightly, knotting the cotton around your thumb. “Keep that elevated for a minute, should stop bleeding before too long. When it does, we’ll get going.”

You nodded and Joel picked up your carving from where you’d dropped it. The moose was starting to take shape, though its form was jagged and rough. But the ruggedness suited it, something powerful not easily contained by the wood. Your blood stained the side of its chest, near where its heart would be. Joel tried to wipe it away but some had already seeped in, a red splotch on its chest.

“I ruined him,” you said, sounding a little sad. Joel glanced over at you, your eyes focused on the small creature in his palm, lips turned into a small frown.

“Think he’ll be alright, Bambi,” Joel smiled a little. “Besides, he only exists because of you. Don’t think you can ruin him.”

After a moment, Joel took your bleeding hand back and checked the bandage. It looked to be holding.

“We should go,” you said, a little breathless, watching him.

“Yes,” a voice from behind the two of you said. “You really should.”

Joel jumped to his feet and drew his gun, aiming it at a group of five men who - while he was distracted by you and your proximity and your blood - had managed to sneak up on him. He cursed himself silently as he glanced quickly to where you’d been. You were on your feet, too, gun drawn and held in front of you. He adjusted so he was between you and them.

“Not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel said. “Just passing through. Appreciate it if you’d let us.”

“Not too fond of folks passing through,” one of the men stepped forward, lowering his gun just a bit. The other four kept their weapons trained on Joel. He wasn’t in a good position to take out a group like this. He wished he had his rifle instead of his handgun but the rifle was strapped to Ares and he was tied to a tree a good 20 feet away. He ground his teeth. “Because it never seems like they’re just passing through.”

Joel stepped back until he felt you at his back and he breathed a little easier. He just needed to keep you in one piece, that’s all.

“Well, we are,” Joel said. “Looking for someone, think she might have come through here. Once we look for her, we’ll be on our way.”

“No one out here but us,” the man said. “Took this territory few months back and believe me, we’re not about to let anyone just take what’s ours.”

“She wouldn’t steal from you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Joel.

“Bambi,” he hissed but you ignored him.

“She’s a teenager,” you said. “Brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She set up a snare about a day’s ride from here so she was probably around for a while…”

“Told you,” the man said. “Don’t let people take what’s ours. This is our territory, don’t let just anybody hunt on it. We got folks to look after, can’t have just anyone taking animals on our land. Including you. So you can come with us or we can handle this here.”

Joel glanced at you, trying to do the calculus of what was the best move. Did he risk taking a hand off his weapon to throw you behind him? Did he start shooting and move himself in front of you? Did he try to talk these idiots down?

“We haven’t hunted in days,” you bit out before Joel had a chance to decide. “Haven’t taken anything of yours, just want to keep looking…”

“See, now, don’t think I can believe that,” the man said. Joel clenched his jaw. “Sure as shit can’t trust you to just stay in our territory…”

“We’ll leave,” Joel said, catching a glimpse of your head whipping around to stare him down. “Already heading back toward ours…”

One of the the four men toward the back took a step closer to you and Joel reacted before he really thought about it. It was instinctual. There was a threat to you and he took that threat down, the gunshot cracking through the air as the man dropped to the earth.

Everything happened quickly then. There was a split second of near silence, the echo of the bullet hanging heavy over the shocked silence of the surrounding forest, and the shooting began.

Joel moved for you as one of your bullets hit one of the men. Joel threw you behind a tree and kept shooting as the other men scrambled for cover.

“Three left,” you said, scrambling to reload before looking up at Joel, panting for breath. “Should leave at least one alive, question him.”

Joel nodded, gun low. A chunk of tree trunk exploded near his head and he flinched.

“I’m gonna draw their fire…”

“No,” you shook your head, cutting him off. “No, you can’t…”

“You cover me,” he said, ignoring you. “They’re gonna expose themselves to take a shot, take ‘em down then. Stay back. Something happens to me, get out of here, OK?”

“Joel,” you said, voice sharp and eyes wide, but he pressed on. There was the sharp crack of another bullet hitting the tree.

“You need to stay alive for her, OK?” He said. “Understand? You’re the only one who knows she’s missing and how to find her so you stay alive for her.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead he looked back over his shoulder and around the tree, as much as he dared to catch a glimpse of their positions before looking back at you.

“I’m going on three, OK baby?” He looked in your eyes for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time and took a deep breath. He wanted to touch you, promise you it was all going to be OK, but kept his hands on his gun. “I love you. No matter what.”

He counted down before you had a chance to say anything back and ran for a tree that would give him cover while also giving him a chance to get closer to the last of the men. A bullet passed so close to him he felt it on the air and you started shooting almost immediately, your second shot hitting one of the men in the chest. Joel kept shooting and so did you, but he was pretty sure it was his shot that felled the next man, just as he reached the other tree. That left one who was alive. He reloaded and looked over to you from his new position, your chest heaving but face set firm. He jerked his head back, hoping you’d understand what he wanted you to do. You nodded once. He held up three fingers and you nodded again. He counted down and you both moved. He tracked you with his eyes for a moment, thankful you got what he’d been trying to communicate with you. You moved quickly but delicately around the edge of the trees, going to loop around the back side of where the men were hiding. Joel went the other way. With any luck, he’d meet you in the middle by the final man.

“You two sure cause a lot of trouble for folks just passin’ through,” the first man called. Joel was quiet. That meant he probably hadn’t seen the two of you start to move. “Should understand why we kill everyone who comes through. Probably killed that girl you’re after. If she was around here few months back we did.” Joel clenched his jaw. He was getting close to the man’s position, having to move slowly to not make a sound. “Cleared the land when we took over, folks could join up or they got handled. If she’s anything like you two, she got handled.”

Joel barely had a chance to hope you didn’t take the bait when you roared, the sound sharp and harsh. He moved quickly then, just in time to see you knock the man’s gun out of his hand as he got a shot off. It grazed your arm but you didn’t seem to notice. You tackled him but couldn’t leverage yourself to stay on top fast enough and he slammed you into the ground with a sickening thud. You were still as he scrambled to his feet and brought his foot down, hard, on your arm. Joel heard it snap half a second before you screamed and he finally - finally - reached the man, looping an arm around his throat and pulling him back, pressing the gun to his temple.

“That was a fuckin’ mistake,” he growled. The man clawed uselessly at Joel’s arm. “If you’re smart, you’ll cooperate. If you ain’t, that’s OK too. Don’t mind forcing you.”

Joel looked down toward you, tears in your eyes as you lay flat on your back, pupils blown.

“You still with me, baby?” He asked, resisting the urge to snap the man’s neck. You nodded and blinked tears from your eyes. “Good. Stay put, just a minute, OK?”

Joel wrenched the man around and shoved him to the ground before pressing him back against a tree. He flinched back for a moment and Joel almost smiled at him. He was afraid. Afraid was good.

“Gonna ask you just a few questions,” Joel said, gun still pressed to the man’s chest. “And you can tell me what I want to know or I can hurt you. Either way, I get what I want. Don’t matter much to me which way it goes.”

“Sure we can work something out,” the man said, his eyes darting and wide. “We’ve got a good crew, we’re setting up something permanent, could use someone with your skills…”

“Don’t need a place,” Joel cut him off. “Especially not with someone who would kill a kid. That what you did? You kill a kid?”

“Look…” he said but Joel turned the gun down and pressed it to the man’s thigh, pulling the trigger. The shot was nearly deafening and the spray of blood was hot as the man screamed, his hands flying to his mangled leg, his torso arching over his injured limb. Joel calmly wiped the man’s blood off his gun using some denim that had missed the splatter before he holstered it. He pulled out his knife and opened it before pressing his knee into the shin of the man’s injured leg. He screamed again and Joel held up the knife.

“Got plenty of places I can put this, too,” he said, voice calm. “So answer the question. Did you kill a kid?”

“I’m sorry,” he slumped back against the tree, his hands clutching around his injured thigh, as though that would hold him together. “We… we killed a lot of people when we moved in here, there were people all through this area but they… they weren’t organized, just nomads. They were a threat, we’ve been running from another group, made it far enough from where they mark their territory, needed to stake a claim before we lost that, too. We offered… anyone we found we offered a place but if they didn’t hold up their end or if they turned it down we killed ‘em, couldn’t let ‘em live, they knew too much, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Still haven’t answered the question,” Joel said. “Did you kill a kid?”

“My kid,” you said, voice closer than Joel had expected it. He glanced back to you and you were standing just behind him, cradling your arm to your chest. “She’s 14, brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She was out here about two months ago. Seen anyone like that?”

Joel tried to not picture Sarah trying to navigate the wilderness alone.

“No,” the man shook his head quickly. “No, I haven’t I swear I haven’t, not back at the settlement, not out here, I haven’t, I promise! I promise.”

“Any of your buddies mention someone like that?” Joel asked, knife still in hand. “Any of your buddies take a liking to teenaged girls?”

“What?” He frowned. Joel sighed and thrust the knife into the man’s good leg at the knee. He screamed, shooting forward in pain. Joel waited for the choking sobs to turn to whimpers.

“Asked if your buddies might have mentioned her,” he said. “Or if any of ‘em like teenaged girls. Think you know what I’m askin’.”

The man panted and looked up at you, as though you’d help him. Joel grabbed the man’s chin, yanking his gaze back to him.

“Not at her,” he said. “You’re with me. Answer the question or I’m gonna make things a whole lot worse for you. Any of your buddies mention a girl like her? Any of them have a habit of taking up with girls?”

“No,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “No, none of them mentioned her but…”

Joel was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, he gripped the knife, adding just enough pressure that the man yelped and started panting for breath.

“But?” Joel asked.

“But they wouldn’t have mentioned her!” He cried out, opening his eyes to look up at you again. “We didn’t talk about who we took out, there were a few dozen and… I’m sorry, if she was here… if she was here when we came through…”

Joel pulled the knife out before he could finish the statement. You didn’t need to hear that.

“Where’s your settlement?” Joel asked, wiping the blood on a clean spot on the man’s shirt before pressing the point to the man’s throat, just enough that he’d feel the sharp of it.

“Northeast!” He said. “Northeast, just south of the road going into Cody, about 20 miles west of the town. We… we’ve claimed through here all the way about five miles south as ours, we’ve got about 250 folks up that way…”

Joel nodded and closed the knife before standing. He looked over at you, at the cold and detached look in your eyes.

“Bambi,” he said gently, but you ignored him.

Instead, you pulled out your gun and aimed it at the man’s head. He barely had a chance to raise his hands, didn’t have a chance to beg for his life, before you shot him point blank, his blood splattering your good hand as your broken arm hung, limp and misshapen, at your side. The man’s body slumped over and you screamed at it, the sound seeming like it was ripping up from the center of you. You screamed until you were out of breath and you stood there, standing over the man’s broken form, the gun dangling from your fist, tears in your eyes.

Joel wordlessly went to one of the other men, one he’d shot in the head. The blood splatter on his shirt was minimal. He pulled it off the corpse and brought it over to you.

“Give me your arm,” he said gently. You didn’t seem to hear him. He gingerly took the elbow of your broken arm and you jumped, looking at him like you were surprised he was there. “Here, it’s OK sweetheart.”

He tucked your arm into the soft flannel before he tied the sleeves of the shirt together and draped it around your neck. He went to your other arm, the one that had been grazed by the gunshot and looked at you for a moment, a silent request for permission. You gave him a single nod before he poured water over the wound, cleaning it as best he could. It didn’t look too bad, at least. It would leave a scar but the damage shouldn’t be anything more than that. He got a bandage from his pack and wrapped it around your bicep before tying it off.

“Bambi,” he said again, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

“We should move,” you said, your voice flat. “Sure that drew plenty of attention.”

You stalked back over to where the horses had been tethered - thankfully safe from the gunfire - and stopped to pick up the carving and your knife from the ground. Joel followed behind you and watched as you carefully packed the half-formed moose away before tucking the folded knife into your pocket. He went to help you up onto Renaissance but you brushed him off.

“Broken bones before,” you snapped. You tried to glare at him but your eyes were so empty. “Know how to get on a horse with one, I’m not useless.”

“OK,” he said softly. “I’m here if you need.”

You mounted up fine - not that he should have been surprised - and Joel got on Ares, both horses surprisingly serene given the gunfight that had happened not far from them only 20 minutes earlier. But Joel knew you’d worked to desensitize them to the sound of guns. You’d made them all but warhorses, sturdy enough to withstand anything the apocalypse would throw at them. It had served the two of you well.

“They said northeast, right?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“Bambi…”

“If they killed her, I’m killing them,” you said. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t know that they did,” he said, bringing his horse alongside yours.

You stared him down.

“Sounds like they killed enough to deserve it either way.”

“Maybe so,” Joel said carefully. He tried to imagine how someone would need to talk him down from killing everyone who’d planned to kill Ellie. If someone would have even been able to stop him from killing every person in that goddamn hospital. “But you’re hurt…”

“Joel.”

“We’re low on ammo. Goin’ now will just get you killed and…”

“So?” You yelled. “Do you think I care? You think it matters if…”

“It matters!” He yelled back, his chest tight. He fought to stay in the present, stay with you here in the wild and not in a field outside Austin as he felt his daughter die and not on the floor of a broken house with your cold, barely breathing body pressed against him. “It matters to me and it matters to Ellie and, goddammit, it matters to your daughter! You don’t know, Bambi, you can’t know if she’s gone. But you’re the only one who knows how to look for her and I’m not going to let you throw that away, I’m not. I am not takin’ you there and we both know that, without one arm, you ain’t gettin’ far without me. We’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

You stared him down for a moment, a shadow of rage in your eyes before that died, too. He made you take the lead so he could keep a proper eye on you and the two of you made decent progress before stopping for the night, Joel hunting on the way so he wasn’t going to leave you unattended. He took your weapons when you did. You glared at him but handed over your side arm.

“Knife, too,” he said, his hand out.

“Fuck you.”

He didn’t take the bait. He just kept his hand out. After a moment, you wrenched it out of your pocket and smacked it into his waiting palm.

“Thank you.”

You kept your distance from him that evening, just staring blankly into the fire and cradling your broken arm.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Bambi,” he said as you set up to sleep and he got set to keep watch. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

It took days to reach Jackson, your arm discolored and pain the only thing visible in your eyes when you got there. Joel brought you straight to the clinic and walked you inside, still not willing to let you out of his sight. He couldn’t hold your body. Not yours, too.

He took the horses to the stables, giving a confused Renaissance an extra apple as she chuffed, looking for you.

“Gettin’ her taken care of, too,” he said gently stroking her neck. She bobbed her large head. “She’ll… she’ll get there. It’s OK.”

He went back to the clinic after and sat on the steps outside, waiting for you to come out, hoping he wouldn’t see Ellie until he went home for the night. He wanted to see her, hug her, but he wasn’t sure if you could handle it. And he didn’t want to try to explain everything to her, at least not everything about you.

Joel wasn’t sure how long he sat there waiting when the door behind him opened with a creak and he turned to see you standing at the top of the steps, your arm in a proper cast with more than a makeshift sling this time.

“You’re still here,” you said, your voice flat.

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he replied.

“What, haven’t had enough of me over the last few weeks?” You asked. It seemed like you’d meant to put your usual bite behind the words but they were just hollow.

“No,” he replied. “No such thing as enough of you.”

He carried your pack for you, walking alongside you on your slow path home.

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

You shrugged.

“Took some doing to get my arm set. Had worse.”

Joel nodded.

“And how are you feeling… outside that.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded again, making his way to the front gate of your home. You opened it and didn’t stop him from coming up the walk so he followed you to your door. You stopped there, holding out your good arm for your bag.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, looking at his chest instead of really at him.

“Course,” he said. You went to open your door but he stopped you, a large hand cupped gently around the elbow of your intact arm. “Bambi…”

You looked at him with those wide eyes. He sighed.

“I don’t know if it’s right, leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be OK,” you shrugged. “Not your job to worry about me.”

“I want to worry about you.”

You sighed.

“Joel…”

“I do,” he said. “Doesn’t matter what you do or say, I do. And I’m going to.”

You looked at him.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to spend time together right now,” you said.

He tried to not let the hurt show, the feeling of a knife twisting in his gut.

“You want something different than me,” you continued. “And I just… I can’t. Not right now. And I don’t think us spending time together is smart.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“I can wait.”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, chin jutting out defiantly. The knife twisted again. “You should move on. It’s for the best.”

“And what are you gonna do?” He asked.

You sighed and looked back out at the street. There were birds in the distance and the wind blew in the smell of apple blossoms from the orchard just outside the walls. It would be idyllic if his heart wasn’t cracking open and bleeding on your porch.

“Survive, I guess.”

“Bambi,” you looked back at him. “Meant what I said out there. You can’t give up, OK? You have to find something to fight for. You can. I know you can. And we don’t know if what they said was true, we can’t know. We can keep looking. Once you’re healed, we’ll find another window, we’ll search. She got out of there in a hurry, she probably just…”

“Right,” you said. It didn’t sound like you believed it.

“Promise me,” he said.

You frowned.

“Promise you what?”

“That if I leave you here you won’t do what I did,” he said. “That you’ll be stronger than me and live with it. That if you need someone you’ll come to me and you won’t try to do it alone. Because I meant it, all of it. May not be the same for you anymore but that’s OK. Think I can love you enough for the both of us, just come to me when you need it, please. Need you to promise me, sweetheart. Please.”

“Joel…”

“Promise me.”

Your eyes met his and, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a shadow of the spark of you there. That you were there, buried deep in grief and pain and betrayal.

You took a deep breath.

“I promise.”

Joel slowly, cautiously, raised a hand to cup your cheek. You didn’t stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, your lips parting like you were going to kiss him. But you didn’t and he didn’t try to take it. Instead, he tilted your head and nuzzled against your forehead for a moment before kissing you there, pressing his lips against your skin, breathing in the smell of your hair. He lingered against you as long as he could before he stepped back, taking a moment to memorize you.

You took a deep breath.

“Goodbye, Joel.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Goodbye, Bambi.”

Next Chapter

A/N: I am so so sorry for the wait on this and for the fact that it's a bit of a monster chapter. It got away from me, I admit. I'm trying to get back into the swing of my regular writing cadence now that the holidays are through and I so appreciate you being here and your patience ❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc

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navnae · 1 year

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Eddie has been in the press for several years now and his relationship with Steve wasn’t known about due to Steve panicking over what his family would say if the news had gotten a hold of that information. So Eddie made sure that things went smoothly for Steve when every they went out, he’d block the paparazzi that would surround him, refuse to answer any questions that involved, and he shut down every newspaper that tried to even paint the idea that they were together. Eddie took his personal life very seriously and if Steve wasn’t ready to have their relationship public than that was what Eddie fought for. Of course Eddie never shied away from being honest about his sexuality, basically everyone in the entire world knew he wasn’t straight it was almost like a goal for him to tell everyone “no to hetero” (he even made it a shirt). Meaning that he wasn’t shocked when the rumors started when him and Steve would get touchy from time to time but he kept playing it off as them being good friends for the sake of Steve. This went on for a long time that eventually everyone came to the conclusion that they were just friends and their love language was touch, the questions stopped, the pestering stopped, the theories stopped, everything finally stopped. Eddie felt like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders he didn’t have to go through all these obstacles to protect Steve but when an interview asked him about his relationship status he wanted die right on the spot every time. He wanted nothing more than to tell everyone how much he loved Steve and how he had so many thoughts that revolved around marrying him one day, this was killing Eddie deeply. Nonetheless Eddie kept those answers to himself and only hoped that one day they could finally be a couple without hiding.

It was New Year’s Eve when Corroded Coffin got an invite to perform on tv and Eddie was pumped. Steve helped him with his outfit which made him sweat throughout the whole day since it was the biggest jacket known to man but it was freezing outside and he just had to deal with it. They were going to be the last performance of the night right before the countdown for the ball. When it was around midnight Eddie had lost his voice around this point from singing with so much passion that the entire crowd could feel his energy. It made him feel good that while he was on stage he could see Steve in the front row cheering him on, Eddie couldn’t help the butterflies he got. Soon it was time for the countdown and everyone gathered around for it. Eddie being in his own world he shouted the numbers at the top of his lungs as he watched the ball in the distance he didn’t realize that Steve had made his way onto the stage. He kept counting down til he finally said “3… 2… 1” and right when he finished counting his whole body was turned towards the opposite direction then his lips connected with Steve’s in front of everyone. The confetti started to fall as they continued to kiss in the coldest weather they could feel their lips twitching against one another’s. Eddie was still in shock by Steve doing that and apparently the crowd was too. They gave their attention to the couple then the actual New Years event all together. When Steve pulled away a big smile was on his face with tears rolling down his cheek.

“Why did you do that? This is live, your family’s going to see it.” Eddie said worriedly. His heart pounded at the thought of what Steve’s family would do to him.

“I know and I’ve thought about this long enough to say that I don’t care. You went out of your way for years to protect me and make sure that I was okay. It’s not fair to you that we can’t simply live each other because of my family.” Steve spoke softly. Eddie smiled as he brought his thumb up to Steve’s check and wiped away another tear.

“And I would’ve continued to do it if you wanted me to. You should come out on your own terms not because of how I may feel.” Eddie knew that the damage was already done but he was still trying to figure out how he could get the press to forget it.

“I know that too but this is me coming out on my own terms. Who knows I might get a call in the morning from my family saying they accept me and I might not. All I know is I’m in love with you, that’s something I couldn’t hide forever Eddie.” Steve’s voice cracked halfway as he talked. The tears just kept coming down and it broke Eddie’s heart to see him like this.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve tightly letting him sob against his chest. He didn’t care if all eyes were on his right now, Steve was more important than all of that. Eddie planted several kisses on the top of Steve’s head and when he did his own vision started to become blurry. Those days of him telling off everyone that said he was in a relationship with Steve flashed in his head over and over again. He hated not being able to hold Steve like this without someone trying out their nose in their business. Now Eddie could do what he always wanted to do with Steve and he wouldn’t have to cover it up anymore. He held his boyfriend close as if he was going to runaway, both of them felt free for the first time in years.

“I love you.” Eddie whispered against Steve’s hair.

“I love you too.” Steve sniffled. Eddie laughed lightly when he felt Steve shiver a little when the wind blew. They were definitely going to be sick after this.

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delaber · 1 year

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The Way Home (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: On how you help Bucky find peace in his new life

Words: 1.5K

Fluff, fluff and pure fluff 💕

- Bucky is quiet at first. Follows Steve around like a lost puppy, doesn't really say much. Still, you can tell that he’s kind. That he isn't what the papers make him out to be.

- The entire team welcomes him with open arms, wants to make him feel at home, but Bucky still keeps to himself. Stays in his room and only comes out when Steve forces him to join the rest of them for dinner. Doesn't say anything apart from the occasional quiet "it's okay" to his best friend or the half-snarled snarky comment he can't hold back when Sam says something he thinks is dumb. But in between, he's quiet. Completely silent, really.

- You've caught him looking at you a few times, and you've seen the unwelcome, pointed elbow Sam shoves between his ribs when you walk into the room, but when you send Bucky a smile in return, he always looks away and goes about his business as if nothing's happened. Maybe a little more irritated at Sam and his wiggling eyebrows than before, but that's it.

- One early morning, after you've already tied your shoes, you go to the kitchen for a glass of water before your daily run. Not expecting anybody to be up at these hours, you're surprised to see Bucky sitting at the counter staring daggers at the cup of coffee in front of him. "Bad night," he explains without looking away from his mug and you suggest that he should come for a run with you. That it always helps when you have too many thoughts in your head. "No thanks. It's okay. It'll be better tomorrow,” he says quietly while tapping his finger on the rim of the mug.

- But the next few mornings, you find him occupying the exact same chair by the kitchen counter.

- By the fourth morning, he's not in his normal hoodie and sweats, but has changed into what you recognise as Steve's running gear. "Steve said I should go with you," he says hesitantly and waits for you to tell him that your invitation was nothing but a joke. But it wasn't. So you smile and tell him he's more than welcome.

- You meet up in the kitchen every morning for several weeks without uttering a single word to each other apart from "good morning," and "great run today".

- And you run. Every day. No matter the weather, no matter what kind of night Bucky has had. It does him good. The colour in his cheeks comes back, his hair looks healthier, and sometimes, you even catch him running with a smile on his lips, his eyes closed as he savours the smell of nature waking up around him.

- It slowly transgresses from "great run today" to "see you tomorrow" to "see you later".

- He starts nodding his head when he passes you by in the hallway, and he gives you a shy 'hi' when he sits down for dinner (much to Sam's smirking delight), but your favourite part of the day is still when he stands in the middle of the dark kitchen, awkwardly waving and saying 'good morning'.

- You love your runs. You love your time together with Bucky. He seems happier. Almost carefree. But things don't really speed up until two months in.

- It's 1.30 a.m when you wake up to muffled screams coming from Bucky's room down the corridor. Steve's out on a mission so without bothering to pull on some pants, you run towards the screams that only grow louder and louder with each step.

- After several minutes in Bucky's room, you finally manage to wake him up. He looks horrified, scared of his own shadow, of himself, of you, but when you touch a hand to his damp face and remind him where he is, his breathing finally slows. You ground him, and he puts his arms around your waistline, and he holds you close, and he cries. Like you've never seen anyone cry before. He fists your pyjama shirt, and you stroke him over his hair and assure him that everything's okay. That he's safe. That he's home. That he isn't alone. And you repeat your words with your fingers raking over his scalp until his grip finally releases its hold on your crinkled pyjamas and he falls asleep, warm, and safe, and loved in your embrace.

- And because you don't want to overstep, you sneak back to your own bed.

- The next morning, he isn't in the kitchen.

- Instead, you find him in his room. His face is burning red with humiliation, and he can't even look at you when he stutters out an apology. But like the night before, you assure him that everything's alright, that there's no need to apologise and you hand him his running shoes.

- You run and you go about your day as if nothing's happened. He seems grateful for that. It's your little secret.

- Steve doesn't come home for a few days, so you stay on high alert every night and you make sure that Bucky wakes up from his nightmares.

- You usually sneak back to your own room around 3 in the morning but one night, when you think he's fast asleep, you hear two soft words whispered faintly against your neck. Don't go.

- So, you stay. Every night. Even after Steve comes back from his mission.

- Bucky still doesn't say much, but one night, right before he drifts off, he finds your hand underneath the duvet, and he holds it to the angry scars on his chest and he squeezes it tight. "You make me feel human again," he whispers and closes his eyes. Not sure what to say, you just press in against his innocent, wretched heart while trying to hold back the tears.

- One evening, when you bid the people in the living room goodnight, you hear an accidental "see you tonight, doll!" slip past his lips. Not sure if Steve's eyes are about to tumble out of their sockets due to Bucky's accidental confession or the old-fashioned nickname, you cannot help but laugh a little. Bucky gulps uncomfortably as if he's somehow said something upsetting, but at least he doesn't look away when Sam smirkingly elbows him in the side.

- "What? No doll today?" you ask him with a raised eyebrow when he merely says "mornin'" the day after his blunder. His cheeks turn a dusted shade of pink but it's the first time you hear him chuckle.

- You run every morning, and you eat dinner together with the rest of the team in the evenings, and you sleep in his bed at night. He's suddenly not as quiet anymore. Still reserved, yes, but he laughs along to jokes, and he always enters the room with a smile on his face. Doesn't shy away from conversation any longer.

- You yearn for him to kiss you and sometimes when it's just the two of you, it looks as if he's just about to do it, but hesitation always gets the best of him, and he manages to stop himself before he's even taken the first step. And you don't want to push him.

- Sam mockingly calls you his girlfriend and when Bucky finally takes the bait and one day snaps that you're not his girlfriend, Sam smirks triumphantly. "But you want her to be," he says with a shit-eating grin, and you pretend not to overhear that Bucky doesn't really have a great comeback to that.

- It all escalates on the night of Steve's birthday. Bucky doesn't like the sound of fireworks so the two of you have volunteered to clean up after dinner while the others are visiting the lake nearby.

- You're in the midst of clearing the table, when you suddenly feel Bucky's arms snake around your waist, and his head meets your shoulder. "Hi doll," he says softly, and you lean your head against his chest and entangle your fingers with his while you sway back and forth to his favourite song playing in the background.

- "There's something I have to tell you," he muses quietly and tilts your head with an index finger placed underneath your chin. His eyes scan over your face and he takes a step closer to your anticipating body while the hand he has placed over your stomach travels to your waistline.

- "I'm crazy about you," he finally whispers in a heartfelt confession, and you feel the love pour out of his words, his touch, his rapid heartbeat that is pressed to your spine. "- I haven't felt this way since before the war -" his soft eyes are drawing you in, his lips mere inches away, and you let him pull you closer, closer, closer. "Sweetheart, I want you to be mine..."

- You don't answer. You just turn around in his arms and you stand on your tiptoes and let yourself be engulfed by his soft lips as you finally reach for him.

- Your hands are buried in his long hair and while you're surrounded by dirty pans and plates stacked high on the kitchen table beside you, he trails his wet mouth all the way down your throat. He nibbles and sucks and kisses at your burning skin, and when he finally finds your mouth again and slowly slips his tongue inside, you know you've both found your way home.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you

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artiststarme · 10 months

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Let's Get Out Of Here

Aha, the writer’s block is gone! I’m not sure what this is but I hope you guys like it! Please leave your thoughts in the comments.

~*~*~*~

Eddie had wanted to leave since he stepped foot into the god-forsaken town. As soon as he’d passed the town’s border in the backseat of the social worker’s sedan, he knew he didn’t belong there. Hawkins was everything he despised about society; white picket fences for the rich, small town boys who thought they were better than everyone else, and snobby adults that turned their nose up if he so much as looked at them.

So yes, he’d been imagining a way out since he got in. He’d imagined Corroded Coffin making it big and getting to leave Hawkins together, best friends living the best life on stage while sharing their music with the masses. They wouldn’t be the outcasts that people treated like shit beneath their boots anymore, they would be something important. Unfortunately, that dream was squashed by his experiences over Spring Break. His old friends wouldn’t so much as glance at him much less leave town to hit the road with him.

Gone were the friends that would listen to him narrate a campaign for hours on end. Gone were the the friends that would drop everything to practice one of Eddie’s spur of the moment song ideas. After Spring Break of his third senior year, Eddie was alone.

He managed to avoid criminal charges by the skin of his teeth with a bogus alibi fabricated by the surprisingly-still-alive-Chief Hopper. He was finally able to graduate from high school and get a full time job to raise some money. But everything else was ruined. The friends he’d had since sophomore year were gone, the trailer he’d called his home was savaged, and his body was marred with gruesome scars that still wrought pain on the worst days.

On the bad days when the pain kept him in bed, he’d fantasize about leaving Hawkins. New, more achievable dreams centered around moving someplace new with Wayne. They’d pack everything up in the van and truck and just take off. They’d leave the tragic Midwest behind and head somewhere bigger like LA or NYC to take the world at storm, Munsons against the world as it had always been. Unfortunately though, they just didn’t have the funds to do that. Wayne couldn’t leave the plant when he had no savings to his name. And Eddie didn’t have anywhere near enough saved from working at Thatcher Tire to support them both.

He still had nothing going for him in Hawkins though. The harsh glares and pointed insults had only worsened since Chrissy’s death. He had to leave. But, he’d always been a coward at heart and he wasn’t brave enough to leave on his own. He would be trapped in the town that hated him until he died or something happened to force him out.

The one thing he had still was his family. It had lost several members but it had gained even more. The Party had managed to creep passed his defenses to find a place in his broken heart. Steve and Robin in particular grew close to him, assigning themselves best friends of Eddie Munson 1 and 2, respectively. They would hang out around Wayne’s new trailer, bother him at work, and he’d bother them at theirs.

It was on one of these impromptu hang-out sessions that a spark of hope developed in his chest. He’d been mourning his cowardice and inability to leave in silence until Steve started complaining about feeling trapped in his empty home. It was then that Eddie saw an opportunity.

“I don’t know, man. I know it sounds stupid, how can I feel trapped in a big house? But there’s just nothing there! And it’s, it’s suffocating, man. I don’t know how much longer I can stay there.”

Steve murmured his words against the end of a cigarette, his body leaning against the side of the car that Eddie was pretending to work on. But how was he supposed to focus on changing a timing belt when the object of his affections was expressing a will to leave?

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Eddie nearly fell over as he rushed to reassure him. “Hell, I’ve felt suffocated since I got here.”

Steve hummed softly and took a puff of his cigarette.

Eddie smirked sardonically and chuckled to himself. “Maybe we should leave together. You could stop being a ghost in your parents house and I could stop being the murderer that killed his classmates. We could get a place together and decorate it half jock, half metal. That’d be a sight.”

Steve looked over at him with squinted eyes. “Really? You’d want to leave with me?”

“Why not? You’re one of my best friends, Stevie. I’d love to leave with you.”

The suspicion melted from Steve’s expression and a genuine smile took its place. He dropped the cigarette to the gravel ground, pulled the tool from Eddie’s hand and pulled him into an all-encompassing hug.

“Let’s do it! You and me. And Robin, I don’t think she’d let me move without her. We’re a package deal, if that’s okay.”

Eddie laughed and it’s him, high in the moment despite it all being a joke. “Of course! You can bring your emotional support lesbian and I’ll bring my Sweetheart. Then we’ll take the world by storm.”

Steve held onto him for another few moments before pulling away. “Okay, when do you want to leave?”

The smile fell from Eddie’s face. “Wha- seriously? You actually want to leave with me?”

“Um, yes? I feel like I made that pretty obvious.”

Eddie blinked. “Um, okay. How about the end of the summer. Then we’ll have enough time to find a place and raise some cash.”

Steve grinned. “Sounds good! I’ll tell Robin. See you later, Eds!”

Eddie could only watch him skip to his car in shock. Steve continued to surprise the hell out of him. He’d shocked him in the Upside Down by being a genuinely good guy. Again when he’d fought the entire basketball team two weeks afterward to protect Eddie’s honor. And now with plans to rescue him from the stifling hatred of Hawkins.

When he pulls him into a gentle kiss as soon as they step into the apartment with Robin behind them griping about carrying all the bags, that’s a nice surprise too.

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @ksherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @anzelsilver @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24 @pukner

@strangerthingfanfic @dangdirtydemons @bookworm0690 @hannahhook7744 @dreamlandforever @marsbars97 @precursorandthedragon @romanticdestruction @5ammi90 @death-thee-nervousqueer @panicatthediaz @justforthedead89 @futuristicnachostranger @breadboi66

#They make Robin carry all of the bags so they can pick their rooms first #they end up sharing anyways #they move to a city and live the lives they could never live in Hawkins #and they’re happy #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley

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wolven91 · 9 months

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Cooking For Humans

Nepeltor loved cooking.

As an esquinine, she was drawn to the more pleasant hobbies in life, both for her own happiness and other people's, more so than the average being. She found great joy in being able to provide a service to others that caused such a positive emotional surge. As a strong natural psychic, she had the ability to 'sip' at strong emotions and enjoy them as a one would a drink.

For the unshielded, she was exposed to all emotions, but it was the greater ones, or those felt more strongly that she recognised above the usual din.

Anger, frustration, disgust, or hatred were the ones she avoided where she could, instead deliberately seeking out positive ones instead.

A favoured pass time was lingering near spaceport greeting lounges where long lost partners, families or friends would meet again, rush into one another's arms and embrace with an outpouring of love, joy and relief. It was like standing just off from a planet's coast, until the water reached her shoulders. The ebb and flow of the water would rock her back and forth. Likewise, the relief of seeing one that you had missed was enough for her to physically waver, stood in the middle of the expansive room.

That was until she happened to be in the same café as a human when they got their meal. The creature was one of the new additions, and seemingly was mentally grumbling that they had not eaten anything other than nutrient cubes for a while. Nepeltor grimaced herself, she'd lived off nutrient cubes once; tasteless, boring and a chore to eat. No wonder the human relished the middling quality meal as if it was fine dining.

The esquinine telepath had met no other race in the cosmos that seemed to have such a reaction to their meal.

Even before they started on their plate, the anticipation bled into her readily. When the first bite was taken, she was glad she was seated as the sheer, unadulterated, euphoria that washed over her and hit like a tidal wave. Each bite blinded her like no other. Not even the ursidains could match the depths of the emotion's the human was feeling at this second.

It was the very next day, Nepeltor applied for her culinary licence.

Just short of a year later, she applied for a location for a new food stall on the station. Directly next to the new arrivals exit.

She didn't need much, in the end just space for 5 or so mid-sized creatures... 'humans' she hoped. They were rare, but she noticed a steady appearance of one or two as they made their way across. This station must have been one of the secretive layovers for the valuable species.

Her stall was barely more than a hot plate and space for her ingredients behind the counter, with a bench in front and an eating shelf for the customers.

Perhaps it would be frowned upon to have stolen an idea from the human. Perhaps they would have agreed to give their permission if she had asked, but in the end, Nepeltor made a new meal that was a human specialty in the hope it would lure the new species in with tastes of their former home. 'Noodles', chives, meat and an egg. Throw in some other bits and bats before serving with a smile.

It was several weeks before the first human appeared. By then she was fully invested in her work and had been forced to plan a handful of other stalls opening, manned by hires. The human 'noodles' were a hit, a brand new taste sensation in a galaxy that had tried 'everything' already.

The esquinine at this point wasn't thinking that a human would arrive, instead focusing on her work of slicing vegetables ready for the next fresh pot. She had served the two newcomers as she had anyone else, with barely a thought thanks to the rush.

"God I'm starving!"

"I know, can't get a good meal anywhere here, did that guy genuinely suggest we eat rocks?"

The first voice replied but was muffled as he slurped a heaping of noodles into his mouth.

"At least this place has normal foo-" His dramatic halt gave pause for the other human, before the one that had taken a bite 'mm'd in pleasure as he immediately began eating with gusto.

Nepeltor however, was rocked out of her zen 'flow' state of working and knew instantly that she had done well. From a gnawing hunger radiating from the other side of the counter, like a grenade exploding right in front of her face; a mixture of desire, greed, pleasure and even love bloomed in front of her until she stumbled and had to lean against her counter just to stop her knees from buckling.

What was interesting was that over time, one by one, each human ended up emitting the same few handfuls of emotions, which was an experience every time and not only did they love her food, there was a hint that they had associated her with her food and she herself was the target of their outpouring of positive emotions. It was directed at her, rather than just passive.

In the end she became famous amongst humans traveling that route.

She had the opportunity to expand, become an administrator, be rich and never have to work again with her stalls setting up shop everywhere, but she would lose access to be there when they took that first bite with ecstasy. Not to mention, if she expanded too much, she would be less likely to see the humans if they weren't forced to come see her and her stall specifically.

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #haso #hfy #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #esquinine #horse

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mvltisstuff · 11 months

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I have a Buck (911) fic idea. Buck saved reader at the tsunami. Reader can't swim that good, so she was really scared and he comforted her. Reader took care of Christopher while Buck was saving other people. Two weeks or something after the tsunami they meet again. Maybe reader is working at coffee shop and they meet there. Reader can't stop saying thank you to Buck and maybe he asks her on a date at the end.

You don't have to write this if you don't want to. I got this idea and thought I'll send it to you.

arms of a stranger - e.b

summary: request above :)

evan buckley x reader

the tsunami had entirely taken out a whole community and a street of small businesses. it came rushing through, causing immediate calamity and jeopardy. not the most ideal first date, but definitely gets you closer to strangers.

the first wave had washed buck and christopher off of the pier, sending them away with bits and pieces of the structure. y/n had been shoved under the waves, which were horrifying but also marvelous. her lungs were filling with water and sand from the shores. it felt like every time she came up it wasn’t worth anything, as she would be pulled back under seconds later.

she heard the screams from buck, hearing the sharp yells of someone’s name. the adrenaline in her system kept her brain moving speedily and her heart beating fast. the red engine had sparkled out of the corner of her eye from the sizzling sun of california. she forced herself over, when the man gripped her arms and pulled her on. she bent over, coughing up water and leaning back on the truck.

“hey, are you ok?” he asks, worried.

“yeah, i’ll be fine. are you two alright?”

“we’re good, just scared shitless,” buck chuckles a little, trying to bring a little light to the disaster.

“same, i’m no mermaid.”

“it’s going to be alright, ok? i’m here for you,” he reassures immediately. he must have an instinct to protect people, she thinks.

y/n vividly remembers sitting next to christopher, watching buck save other people, and bring them to the top of the truck. she remembers the exact feeling of her jeans sticking to her thighs and her scraped arms from the wood and sticks in the water. he was just a little boy, he didn’t deserve to be in the middle of such a mess. when people had succumbed to the oceans, she covered his eyes to maintain his innocence whilst she couldn’t look away.

buck had come back and forth, saving several people. she immediately admired him. you have no idea the amount of courage and selflessness it takes to put yourself in the eye of the hurricane. and buck did that without thinking twice. most people would stay put, but he knows there’s no point to life if you don’t do everything in your power to make it a better place.

all hell broke loose when the truck shook, knocking several people off as buck watched christopher disappear in the waves. everyone was separated. no one knew how to get back, and everyone was shaking in fear.

hours went by and the sun went down and bucks panic didn’t go with it. he lost the one thing he was given to care of. christopher was a light in the tunnel and the one who truly got him out of bed. people only had good intentions and the world took that to an advantage.

y/n walked around, soaking wet after the water had started going back out to sea. she wandered around the town, looking for anyone she knew or something familiar. suddenly, nothing had become safe until she saw the sitting boy on the steps of a building, his eyes small and tired. the one she tried so hard to save from floating away, and she prayed he was going to be ok when she walked over. he was slumped to the side, his head leaning on a railing. “y/n?” christopher’s eyes focus, squinting at her.

“oh my god, christopher! you’re ok!” she runs over with whatever energy she has left. she pulls him into her, checking him over with her hands on his face. “are you? i’m so sorry, buddy, it all happened so fast.”

“i’m ok, i’m tired though,” he remarks. “where is buck?”

“i don’t know, ive been trying to find out for you, but the woman said there’s going to be units here soon. we can find him.”

“is he dead?”

y/n pauses, taken aback by his statement. “i don’t think so, chris. he’s a tough guy, really tough.”

“he just got hurt, what if he is again?”

“he was hurt?”

“at work.” y/n sighs, looking around again for anyone before moving to sit next to him. christopher leans on her shoulder, dozing off lightly as y/n happily allows it.

at least fourty-five minutes go by before ambulances and rescue personelle arrive to the scene. there were probably a hundred people clattering about, trying to find out if their family or friends were alive. y/n was given oxygen along with christopher, who shared the tank due to an emergency shortage.

they were transported to the nearest hospital right after sundown. christopher arm was tangled with hers for balance, trying to find his dad and buck. y/n observes buck and the other man, diaz on his name tag. they both have tears in there eyes as buck stutters on about the boy. eddie looks behind him, about to run out of there and search for christopher when he sees him limping over, exhausted. “christopher?”

“dad!” he yells, as eddie sprints over to take him. he checks him over the same way y/n did, making sure every single part of him is safe. y/n looks away as eddie carries him away to get checked out and she locks eyes with buck. he’s talking to his fellow firefighters, them observing his disoriented condition. when he stares into y/n’s pained expression, his knees give out but his eyes stay locked on her. he blinks a few times and somehow, she vanished right before his eyes.

he had a whole speech to give her. she saved christopher, and she saved him. he could have never made it out of this alone and he had to say that, but she was gone before he knew it.

two weeks had passed since an entire portion of los angeles had been demolished in two minutes. the city coming together to help everyone affected was truly beautiful, but something was missing in bucks eyes. he felt like he had to see y/n, but he had no idea how to reach her or where to find her. he wanted to give her anything she wanted for being there.

he roamed around on calls, taking a second glance at anyone who resembled her or her name. maybe he misheard it or something? he didn’t want to give up, but everyone had been telling him to let the tsunami go out of his mind with the tide. one of those ways was to avoid that day and the reminders. was it the best coping mechanism? absolutely not, but buck would try anything and everything to forget a trauma.

until he was asked to watch christopher again, he thought there was no point in bringing up the memory for especially you. you’d been there the whole time, being a bad swimmer and nearly drowning with no past disaster training. buck had that, and she was worse off than him, he thought. when christopher mentions her name, he realizes there is no point in trying to forget. this happened and there is no erasing it, maybe what he needed was y/n.

he took christopher for another day out, far from the shore and the non-existent pier. they’d gone to the indoor arcades and fun little places to hang out or just talk. buck was desperate for an energy boost, so he dragged christopher into the nearest coffee shop. it was an adorable little place with a few businesspeople sitting around on their computers. the smell of coffee and cakes hit bucks nose delightfully. his eyes land on y/n, casually making an latte like it’s muscle memory.

he stares at her in delight and christopher is the one to nudge him close to the counter. “hurry up, buck!”

“i’ll be right with you in one,” y/n’s sentence comes to a halt when she turns around to see buck, the man who saved her, standing behind her. “second. um, hey! how are you guys?”

“we’re good! i- im good, i didn’t know you worked here.”

“have been for a while, it’s easy money for school.”

“oh, nice. what are you in school for?” y/n explains her whole major to buck and why she’s here, practically giving a life story.

“sorry. that was a lot of information you don’t care about,” she laughs, pressing the cover onto the hot drink in her hands.

“i care a lot!” buck says a little too fast. “or, i care about you. how have you been doing?” y/n looks down at the boy with a radiant smile, wanting to show her bravery and strength in front of him, but it’s hard. “hey, chris. why don’t you find somewhere to sit?”

once he walks away to pick out a table, she begins again. “it’s been tough. my sleep schedules all messed up and focusing is like trying to fight a grizzly bear.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n. it’s been so hard trying to deal with it. but give yourself time,” he says sweetly. “you won’t heal if you force yourself.”

she gives him a little smile, appreciating his generosity and now starting to appreciate his looks. her eyes dart around his face, looking into his alluring blue eyes and his lips, and she couldn’t forget that birthmark that is perfect to her. he’s a beautiful man, but an even more beautiful soul. firefighters come with a lot of respect in society, but she had that for him even before she found out. he would never say something too fast, but he noticed her the first time he saw her and grabbed onto her. his rescue response had turned on and was stronger than ever, and the aftermath made him fall in love with her resiliency. she was insanely hot, he had to admit. buck’s gonna buck.

“thank you, buck. for everything. i want to give you the ends of the earth,” she grins. “but maybe we can start with a free coffee?”

“a free coffee sounds amazing,” he replies. he builds up the courage from his crushing self to ask her yet another question. a more bold on, at that. “do you wanna go out sometime? maybe not on top of a fire truck, in a flood?”

y/n’s heart burst right then and there. she had been dying to ask him to same thing, but figured he was too busy with work. besides, he does what he did for her every day so she figured it meant nothing. at the end of the day, it did. “i’d love too!” she shoots out her words rapidly, almost immediately curing bucks anxieties. she shakes her head quickly, trying to rub off her hyper mood. “i’d really like that. here, this is my number,” she writes down the ten digits on a scraped receipt, handing it to him and walking away to make his drink and a snack for christopher.

“perfect,” buck states with a sly wink. “expect a text or two tonight.”

y/n turns back around, heading to the employee room. she can’t find it in her to wipe the rich smile on her face. meanwhile, buck walks over to sit with christopher at the counter by the window. christopher’s grinning at him, high-fiving him and saying, “and buck has done it again!”

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zhongrin · 1 year

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weathering

◇ characters ◇ husband!zhongli, baby!xiao

◇ tags ◇ afab!reader, fem!pronouns, mention & implication of pregnancy (reader), children, xiao (tries) to call you “mama”, angst to fluff, heartwarming domestic fluff

◇ a/n ◇ last submission for my ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ϟᴜᴘᴇʀᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇ collab

disclaimer: i don’t have a child, and i won't pretend i know how it feels to have one. this won’t be 100% accurate. however - i have first-hand lived with one and witnessed the calmest person on earth snap from all the stress that is caused by child-rearing, so…

𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑏 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

[ 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 ]

you think you and zhongli make for a harmonious couple.

if you were asked to describe your relationship in a word, you would choose ‘steady’. it has always felt as such ever since you were friends, stayed as it is when you started courting each other, throughout your stage of falling in love with each other’s flaws and strengths, and persisted through your engagement and your newlywed stage.

of course, you’ve had fights - from petty ones that make you roll your eyes in exasperation, to bigger ones that made you temporarily move out to your friend’s house for several days to reevaluate your relationship, you had them all. they all ended in the same way, every single time: reconciliation, deep conversations, promises to do better, and tons of affection to make up for the lost time. your relationship is most definitely not perfect, but you’d like to think that it’s healthy and open and, as quoted by your friends, “couple goals”.

but nothing that you’ve experienced so far prepared you for the hectic, sleepless, and insanely stressful life that is being a parent.

and to think you thought pregnancy was the worst. ha ha.

“- he doesn't want to eat, he doesn’t want to see me, he doesn’t want to see you, he doesn’t want his stories, his diaper is clean - i just - i don’t know what to do!”

you had to shout into the phone, seeing as your baby is quite literally screeching his head off in the background, the shrill sound further amplifying your stress headache and breaking your tired heart.

your husband hums in affirmation over the phone, and the background sound of people talking from his side suddenly disappeared. normally, you would have felt bad at interrupting his meetings, especially since you know it’s vital for him to be there, but you’re too far gone at this point - your patience has its limit and it seems like you’ve reached the bottom of the bar.

“calm down, dear.”

“how am i supposed to calm down?! i’ve never seen him throwing this kind of tantrum!! what if - what if something’s wrong - should i go to the doctor? i can’t tell if he has a fever, his whole face is so red and i can’t even touch him because the last time i tried he screamed harder and choked and i was so scared i-”

“[name].”

“i don’t know what to do,” you sob, tears falling down your cheeks, “i can’t do this anymore…”

“of course you can. listen to me, love. everything is going to be okay.”

“will it though?”

“of course. i’m here too. let us tackle this problem together, just like how we always do.”

“….. okay…”

“thank you, dearest. did you try giving him his dragon plushie?”

“he threw it across the living room.”

“hm. strong arms, like his father.”

you sniffle and laugh weakly at his words.

“maybe he missed menogias?”

“their family is on vacation right now,” you wince when xiao throws another one of his soft toys - a limited edition spear gifted by your husband’s friend who runs the biggest toy factory in the whole country - successfully knocking over the untouched bowl of food you made for him before.

another thing to put in the washer, another ruined food, another thing to clean up. wonderful.

“ah, i remember. australia, i believe. i heard it’s magpies season. hopefully they’re staying safe from the birds.”

“who cares about that right no-” you pause.

“….. dear? what’s wrong?” zhongli’s concerned voice snaps your attention back to the phone momentarily.

still keeping your gaze on your son, whose wide golden eyes are also looking straight at you, you whisper into the gadget, as if you’re afraid he’d go back to crying the moment you said something, “he stopped crying.”

“…… xiao?”

the boy blinks and switches his stare at your phone silently, where the voice of his father is addressing him from.

“do you want to talk with daddy?”

his nose scrunches and despite knowing it’s not zhongli’s fault, you snapped at your husband, “no! no he doesn't!!!”

“ah,” another hum, “then, perhaps a keyword… australia? magpie? safe?”

xiao's golden eyes narrow. you whisper a soft ‘no’.

“birds?”

like magic, your son’s expression lights up like a christmas tree. within seconds, he’s waddling towards you, latching onto your leg, teary eyes staring up at you in expectation. you’re sitting still on the dining chair in shock. literally minutes ago he did not want you to touch him at all.

“is that not it?”

“i…. no, i think….,” you hurriedly wiped your tears away and abandoned the phone on the table in favor of hoisting the toddler up to your lap, “birds? you…. you want to see the birds?”

xiao blinks one, twice, and then nods.

you sigh in relief as you wiped the tear tracks on his chubby cheeks. zhongli chuckles.

“will you be alright now, my dear?”

“ah…. yes. i think so.”

“alright. skip the cooking for us tonight, i’ll come back early with your favorites. i love y-”

a small sweaty palm punches your phone’s screen, effectively disconnecting the call. you give the young boy an unimpressed look. he looks back at you innocently before starting to suck on his thumb.

your house resides on one of the higher terrains, along with a great view of the lakes and forests in the distance. this, fortunately, means that you have a lot of trees and birds for your little one’s viewing pleasure. the moment you step out onto the balcony of your second story’s bedroom, xiao starts to bounce excitedly within your arms before settling down, eyes transfixed on the group of avians perched by the nearby trees.

“bub?”

“……,” you exhale shakily, chants the name of the deities above inside your head, and gives him a shaky, weak smile, “yes, love. those are birds.”

[ 𝑔𝑒𝑜 ]

your doorbell chimes right as xiao accepted the first mouthful of his dinner. the toddler glares towards the direction of the front door, as if silently saying ‘who dares to disturb my meal’, and you chortle in amusement.

“coming!”

after giving a few pats on top of his dark-colored hair, you’re immediately running towards the front door in record speed, intent to turn away whatever salesman you have on the front steps by slamming the door on their face if you have to, because your baby needs his food, darn it.

cautiously, you squint through the peephole.

the sight makes you frown in bewilderment.

instead of some slimy-looking salesman, outside stood your husband in his immaculate work clothes, waiting to be let in like some kind of a lost puppy.

did he forget his key, perhaps? you chuckle in amusement. knowing how often he forgets his wallet, it’s only a matter of time until he forgets his keys, you suppose. with that in mind, you unlock the latches and open the door, a greeting at the tip of your tongue-

the sweet scent of flowers envelops your scent and the entirety of your sight, and you find yourself staring down at a massive bouquet of flowers, tastefully arranged, all freshly bloomed with no single imperfection on their colorful petals and trimmed stems.

“…… huh?”

zhongli chuckles, finding the lost expression on your face endearing. your hands might have instinctively accepted the gift, but it appears your brain has yet to catch up with your body.

“i’m home, dear.”

“w-welcome home? but what-”

“can’t a husband spoil his wife without any reason every now and then?”

“yes? no? i mean-” you want to hit yourself for stumbling and bumbling around like some kind of a high schooler in love, and the entertained laugh from your husband makes you smile in both embarrassment and the sudden happiness that enveloped your whole being. despite already being married, the follow-up kiss to your cheek makes your heart jump and your grin widen.

“may i come in now, dearest?”

you eye your husband with a huff and arch your eyebrows coyly, “hmm. persuade me.”

zhongli doesn’t even hesitate or look surprised at your antics, merely sporting the same gentle smile as he places a proper kiss on your lips this time. now you’re actually giggling like a high school girl, and yet your partner isn’t even fazed, soft lips tracing your jawline, fingers brushing back your hair-

a loud clatter makes the both of you jump, and you would have been touched by the instinctive hold zhongli immediately has on your arm, if not for the sight of disaster in your peripherals.

xiao has, somehow, reached onto the plate of food you set aside for him, and while you were both reliving your honeymoon dating phase (not that you've ever grown completely out of it, according to your friends), had taken the liberty to try and shove the food onto his mouth with his own hands…. keyword here being ‘try’.

the bowl of food lays sadly on the floor, its content spilled against the white tiles.

within seconds, your son starts crying, and the two of you scramble to tag team the situation; with you tending to xiao and zhongli tending to the flowers and locking up the door.

right. gone were the long relaxing beach walks and uninterrupted sweet moments.

….. and yet, as you’re cleaning up the food spills around the baby chair and catch the sight of your now-husband silently patting a sleepy little boy whose belly is now full of food, you think that this kind of life too, has its own unique moments of happiness.

[ 𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑜 ]

“maa…”

you feel a tug on your hair and groan.

“mah….?”

your eyes squint, heavy eyelids struggling to open, something within you forces you to push through it. wake up, your instinct says. your brain lags, and it’s so easy to just fall back asleep, but-

“maaaaaa!!!”

you sit up at record speed, vision bleary yet immediately alerted at the piercingly loud noise and familiar voice of your baby. instinctively, your arms gather the smaller body of the toddler despite the exhaustion weighing your whole being.

“mmah.”

“yes, baby. mama’s he-” tiny hands push your cheek away and you frown, feeling a little hurt by the rejection, “okay, okay… what is it, xiao?”

he wrestles away from your hug and points at the vase of flowers sitting on the dining table. though the blooms aren't as fresh as the first day you got them from your beloved, they’re still a magnificent sight. not to mention that the size of the bouquet made you separate the flowers into three big vases, and this was just one of them. you understand that your child might be fascinated with the new additional decor to the house, but you really doubt he could carry the whole thing by himself… plus, that sounds very dangerous.

“no no. let’s find another thing to play with, okay, dear?”

xiao gives you a look and stubbornly points towards the flowers again, now slightly frowning.

“no.”

“mahm!”

you sigh, rubbing your temples in exasperation before standing up to approach the table. your little boy follows right behind you, all the while observing your movements, waiting for you to fetch what he wants.

hesitantly, you hold onto the vase in your arms. they’re big. heavy. made of glass. what if it shatters? what if he grabs one of the flowers and they weren’t pruned properly? what if he accidentally stabs himself in the eye with one of the stems??

you really shouldn’t….

xiao latches insistently on your leg, doe eyes looking up at you in excitement.

“gihb!”

with a defeated sigh, you place back the vase onto the table, take one small flower, and give it to your child. he whines and points back to the arrangement on the table. you reluctantly give him two more flowers, slightly bigger than the previous one.

“no more.”

he holds them in his hands and stares at them for a while.

you think he’s going to ask for more, so you opt to sit down on the floor, grabbing the nearest storybook and patting your lap in an invitation, “now that you have the flowers, why don’t you hold them while mama reads you your book, hmm?”

to your utmost befuddlement, instead of obeying, your son looks up at you and lifts the flowers up, before staring at you expectantly.

you smile through the confusion and accept his offering anyway, and you were about to thank him when he determinedly kicks the book away and climbs onto your lap-

-to place a kiss onto your cheek.

....

........

oh.

“are you-” you choke on your words, already feeling tears gathering in your eyes, “-sweetheart, were you trying to copy your father…?”

xiao frowns, seemingly unable to comprehend why you’re not reacting as he expected…. and decides to kiss your other cheek. only, this makes you tear up even more. and he does not like that.

“maamh….”

“oh no no nono darling i’m sorry, mommy’s not sad, not at all!”

you carelessly wipe your tears away when xiao’s nose scrunches, the first sign of tears already showing in his bright-colored eyes. gently, you pull him into a hug and squish his chubby cheeks, peppering loving kisses all over his face with a chest full of warmth and unimaginable joy. the toddler squeaks and squirms on your hold, but you continue to coddle him with affection, for the happy giggles bubbling from his throat clearly reflect his true feelings.

later that night, you tell your husband about the endearing moment, and he laughs in amusement before asking the boy if he could get a flower too.

he gets a freshly laundered spear toy thrown at his knees.

you’ve never felt so smug in your life.

[ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 ]

weathering - the breaking down or dissolving of rocks and minerals on earth’s surface. or in some cases: a phenomenon where strong gusts of wind eventually shape the valley of rocks to create a beautiful and wondrous sight.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #xiao #zhongli x reader #familial!xiao x reader #zhongrin.elementalsupercharge #rin writes

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