#it all meant something but fuck if i remember what
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Second Time's The Charm
Alexia Putellas x Reader
Summary: You and your kind of ex-wife
Lips smashed against yours before you could even compute what was going on.
They were still as soft as ever and you opened your own so Alexia could slip her tongue inside.
"Hi," She said, pulling away slowly.
"Hi."
You smiled at her.
She looked nearly the same as when you divorced her and left the country. The same cheeks. The same nose. The same eyes. The same awkward little smile on her face.
“I missed you,” She said,” I heard from Alba you were coming home and I couldn’t believe it. I missed you!”
“I missed you too, Ale.”
Her arms were open and you stepped into them. They were just as familiar as they were when you broke up and you melted into them now.
“Sorry,” Someone said,” What the fuck?! Alexia, you’re dating now?!”
Both you and Alexia looked at Mapi in confusion.
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because you just started snogging her in front of all of us,” Lucy replied, hands shoved into her pockets casually,” I thought we were meant to be meeting the new medic but, no, I guess you were really getting acquainted.”
You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Alexia pouted, her arms tightening around you just like they did years ago when Alba teased you for being mushy.
“She’s my wife,” Alexia insisted, stamping her foot.
“Ex-wife,” You butted in quickly as the team’s mouths fell open in shock. Very few of them had been on the team the same time you and Alexia had been married, childhood sweethearts that eloped the day after you both turned eighteen.
Alexia laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes.
You recognised that laugh. You’d heard that laugh for years when she pretended to a teacher that her homework was just in her locker and that’s why she hadn’t handed it in or when she promised Eli that she wasn’t the one that broke her favourite glass cabinet and it was really her who had kicked a football right through it.
You knew that laugh very well.
“Alexia,” You said, teeth gritted,” What did you do?”
“Now, amor,” She said,” Just remember that-“
“Alexia, confess!”
“I may have forgotten to file the papers.”
“Alexia!” You snapped before sighing. A bubble of laughter emerged from your throat until you were trapped in an almost hysterical laughing fit. “We signed them together. At the kitchen table. How did you forget?”
“I promise I was going to!” She insisted,” But I had other stuff to do and it just got buried and Mama did some cleaning and she must have shredded them on accident!”
“Alexia, that was years ago! Are you saying that we’re still married?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On which answer will get me in trouble.”
Fondly, you tugged on her ponytail. “You are so lucky I love you.”
She grinned. “Enough to stay married?”
You shrugged. “Well, it’s a hassle to file the papers and work out the separation of assets again.”
“Oh, thank god.” Alexia fished something out of her pocket and it was only when she slid it onto your finger again that you recognised it as your wedding ring. She was the one that had bought them and while you knew that hers had remained on a chain around her neck, you hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to yours after you returned it.
You just assumed it had been thrown to the bottom of her jewellery box.
“Have you been carrying that around since you found out I was coming home?”
Like a professional, she skirted around your question. “Home! You need to move in again! The clothes you left all got put into a storage locker so we should probably swing by there after work. Your office is practically the same but kind of dusty so I’ll clean it up while you unpack.”
You nodded, mulling over the plan in your head. “You know that if I have back in then so does Mr Stinky.”
Alexia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You still have him?”
“Yes, Ale! Just because I moved to England doesn’t mean I abandoned my cat!”
She pursed her lips before admitting. “I think there’s still a few of his toys under the sofa. I can never manage to get them all.”
“And I want the left side of the bathroom sink.”
She nodded before freezing. “Hey! Wait, no! That’s my side! That’s always been my side! You can’t just take it!”
You flashed your ring. “You want this to work? I want the left side of the sink.”
“Well…I want…I want…I want the right side of the dresser!”
“Done!”
“Done!”
“Sorry, no,” Mapi butted in. You’d almost forgotten that you were meant to be introducing yourself to the team. “Not done. Let me get this straight. You two got married, divorced but not really and now you’ve decided to get back together?!”
You shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“But you divorced!” It was clear that she was struggling to wrap her head around this.
“It wasn’t really a breakup though,” Alexia said flippantly,” We still hooked up every time she came home. We only really tried to get a divorce because she was leaving for England. I was clingy when I was younger.”
The whole team pointedly stared at Alexia’s hands on your waist and how they hadn’t moved but to put your ring back on your finger.
“Clingier,” You amended,” And I needed to leave for more money. We decided it would just be easier to get divorced but I guess that didn’t work out.”
“Oh!” Alexia said suddenly,” I need to tell Mama! She’ll be so happy! She’s always talking about you to everyone.”
“Oh, I’m glad. I’ll have to call my Mama too. She’s always telling people that her daughter-in-law is Alexia Putellas. You’ll have to come to Sunday lunch this week. My aunts and uncles will be there.”
“Next week we’ll go to mine then,” Alexia agreed,” Mama will want you to try her paella again. She tweaked the recipe.”
“Oh, great! I love Eli’s paella. My-“
“No!” Mapi said, pointing at both of you in turn,” This is moving so quickly. I’m sorry but what the hell?!”
“Oh,” You said,” I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. I’m the new doctor on the team. Alexia’s…well I was going to say ex but apparently we’re still married so I’m Ale’s wife! I look forward to getting to know you all.”
#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
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mother may i || mary earps x reader ||
you show mary a little well-deserved love.
minors dni, 18+, smut ahead
"you look so pretty spread out like this for me," mary cooed in your ear as she fucked you. there was a sweetness to her voice that directly contradicted the harsh thrusts of her hips. you whined as you blindly reached out to touch her body. "you're doing so good for mommy. how does it feel? are you close baby?"
"yes mommy, it feels so good. i'm so close, just a bit more, please. i need you," you told her. mary leaned back a little and tugged your hips further onto her lap. she kept one hand on your waist to steady you as the other fell between your legs.
your back arched off of the bed as mary's fingers trailed between your legs. she was teasing you, but it didn't last for much longer. mary could tell that you were close. she could see how desperate you were for your release, and it came quickly once her fingers had finally focused in on your clit.
"mommy, i'm gonna cum," you warned her. mary moved the hand not on your clit up to your breast, pinching your nipple as she continued to pound into you. your orgasm washed over you as the pain mixed in with your pleasure. you were screaming mary's name as you came, your brain too far gone to remember the bedroom title.
"that's it baby, cum for mommy. you've been such a good girl for me. i love seeing your cum all over my cock. that's it baby, relax for me. you did so good. rest for me, okay?" mary soothed you both with her words and the gentle hold she had on your body. mary pulled her cock out of you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as you let out a little whimper and squirmed. "how are you feeling, lovely?"
"amazing. i love it when you fuck me like that," a light pink blush dusted your cheeks as you answered mary's question. she smiled as she pressed several kisses to your cheeks. you could feel her strap poking you in the leg as the two of you cuddled up next to each other. mary wasn't going to demand another round or anything, but she always kept it on until you told her that you were finished. "can we do something a little different tonight?"
"what did you have in mind?" mary asked you. she was apprehensive about your question, and rightly so. mary had taken a lot out of you just then, but you didn't want her to fuck you again. you sat up and moved to straddle mary, knowing that she was a bit more susceptible to your suggestions when the two of you were positioned like that.
"well, i was just thinking that you always take such good care of me, that i'd like to return the favor," you told her. mary seemed a bit slow to catch up, but once she did, she looked surprised. in the beginning of your relationship, things had felt a bit more equal before mary fell into the dominant role. "let me make you feel good. i want to show you how good i can really be mommy."
you knew that with those words, mary was a goner. she cleared her throat and sat up. there was an air of nervousness about her, one that you hadn't seen in the bedroom in quite some time. you cupped her cheeks and leaned in slow enough to give mary ample time to stop you or move away. instead, she leaned into your touch and practically melted once your lips were on hers.
you found it difficult not to do the same, but you had to hold strong. you guided mary to lay down on her back without breaking the kiss. your hands moved down from mary's face to pin her arms down against the bed. mary looked completely dazed when you finally broke the kiss and pulled away enough to get a good look at her.
"first thing's first, i need to clean up the mess i made," you told her. mary opened her mouth to ask what you meant, but all that came out as a squeak as you took all of her strap into your mouth. any protest or thought mary had about the absence of you sitting on her lap died at the sight of you deep throating her.
"fucking hell," mary swore as she watched you. the sight of your head bobbing up and down on her cock made her almost as wet as watching you getting fucked had. "you're so hot."
you gently placed your hands on her thighs as you shifted your body to rest between her legs. mary watched with a certain unwavering intensity as you cleaned every last drop of your cum off of her strap. she lifted her hips to help you whenever the time came for you to remove the harness. mary wanted to make everything as easy for you as possible to get you between her legs properly as quick as she could.
"what are you going to do now?" mary asked. you were sat back on your knees, staring at her body as if you were contemplating your next move. usually, you'd get yourself off by grinding on her abs or thigh when she was laid back this like. a part of you wanted to do that, but it was much more important that you showed mary some proper love.
you leaned over her body and pressed your lips to hers in a feverish kiss. it was like the ones that mary gave you whenever the two of you were in the middle of fucking. this time, it was mary moaning as she rolled her hips against your thigh for some much needed friction. you let mary grind against you as you trailed hot kisses down her neck and to her chest.
"(y/n), baby, please," mary pleaded with you. she was whining, something that you hadn't heard in quite some time. you wanted to take your time, but mary needed you more. this wasn't about you, it was about giving mary the pleasure that she deserved.
"i'm sorry," you apologized as you shifted to lay between her legs. mary's hands found their way to the back of your head, bunching up into fists around your hair. mary was careful to be gentle with you, even as she felt like she was losing her mind with your tongue trailing up and down between her folds.
you let out a small moan at the taste of mary, a move that had her pulling your head impossibly closer. mary was incredibly receptive to every single one of your touches, only spurring you on even further. you didn't even feel the need to use your fingers, pleasuring mary just fine with your tongue. you alternated between focusing your mouth on her clit and lapping at the arousal that dribbled down from her entrance.
"i-," mary tried, but couldn't string together any words. you knew the warning that had died on the tip of her tongue. you could feel her dripping down your chin as she came, grinding herself against your face shamelessly. it was an act of pure lust, mary only caring about chasing her own orgasm. you let her continue until she was finished, finally letting go of your head and pushing you out from between her legs.
"are you alright?" you asked as you sat beside her. mary cracked her eyes open a little to look at you, a sight that had her thighs clenching together. your lips were shining with her arousal, which also coated the bottom half of your face. mary blushed a little, not having realized that she had even been that worked up. "talk to me, mare."
"i think that i needed that," mary muttered quietly. you began to move forward to kiss her, but paused, unsure of whether or not she wanted to kiss you with her cum coating your mouth. mary seemed to sense your apprehension and finished closing the distance for you. "thank you baby. you took very good care of me, i'm grateful that you love me like you do."
"i'll always love you, even if you aren't in the habit of letting me do this more often," you told her. mary blushed a bit. you let her rest for a couple of moments before you took her into the bathroom. you were careful about cleaning her up before the two of you went through your night-time routines.
"what do you want to sleep in for tonight?" mary asked as she came into the bathroom again. she was dressed up in a tank top and pair of old sweatpants. you could see her nipples straining through the fabric, and if it wasn't for the slight ache between your legs, you probably would have tried to jump her. mary held one of her wolfsburg training jerseys in one hand with a little silk slip in the other.
"the jersey, it smells like you," you told her. mary blushed as she held it out towards you. she was about to turn around and let you get dressed when she remembered that she had stashed a pair of underwear for you in her pocket. she watched as you got dressed with a loving look in her eyes, like she couldn't believe that you were hers to hold at night. "carry me to bed?"
"as you wish," mary said with a dramatic bow. you chuckled as she lifted you up into her arms. she let you bounce a little as she held you in place. mary pressed a couple of quick kisses to your lips, knowing that you wouldn't let her kiss you while she carried you. there had been too many mishaps where mary had either tripped or run into something for you to even attempt making out while she carried you again. "baby?"
"yes, mare?"
"can i be the little spoon tonight?" mary asked you. you didn't answer her verbally, and instead pulled her into your arms. mary relaxed with your body pressed against her back. she wouldn't admit it, but she had felt extremely nervous asking to be held like this. you would always do it for her, but mary had always found it difficult to be vulnerable with you. you knew what she wanted, you just had to be patient and wait for her to ask for it first.
#minors dni#minors do not interact#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso smut#mary earps smut#mary earps imagine#mary earps x reader
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right where you left me
part: 5
pairing: paige bueckers x oc
word count: 3.8k
c/w: sexual content, language, alcohol
a/n: happy reading my lovelies!!
I snuggle further into Paige. We’d had a slow, lazy morning, complete with sleepy kisses and the most languid, indulgent head I’d ever received. It was now eleven in the morning, and despite already having had her head between my legs, Paige didn’t seem to want to do anything else but lay in bed.
If I could wake up like this everyday, I would. I’m sprawled across her chest, my face turned up to press into her neck. She smells like she always does - fresh, clean, a hint of sweet vanilla. She blinks down at me, letting her lips spread into a slow grin, then leans down to kiss my forehead.
I want to try again. I’d decided that much yesterday, perhaps against my better judgment. But it’s Paige, and when it’s her, my judgment flies out the window. I think back to her words from last night as her thumbs stroke over my bare side. How could it be wrong? How could this be a mistake? “It’s us,” she’d told me, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She’d said that to me once, too. That we were obvious. I hadn’t fully known what she’d meant then.
I understand it now, entangled in her in more ways than one, feeling that, even miles away from any place I’ve ever called home… that this must be it.
“Whatcha thinkin’, Mai?” Paige mumbles groggily. She laughs to herself, reaching up to push my hair out of my face. “Remember I used to call you Mai Tai?” I wrinkle my nose. “That shit is nasty,” I inform her. “Bro, you actually hate fun,” she complains, but it’s teasing. “The whole thing is just rum,” I mumble, burying my face further into her. “Can we get drunk together?” She wonders aloud. I frown into her skin. “Didn’t you get wasted enough last night?”
I feel her shrug, then shudder when I press a light kiss into her collarbone. “Yeah, but… I want you to come meet the girls. Or whatever.”
I tense. Ever so slightly. But she senses it, her hand immediately splaying across my back, a reassuring pressure.
Part of me thinks we should talk it out. Like, really talk it out - not just scream at each other in a parked car in the middle of the night. But the other part of me… the other part of me is thinking that I finally have her back. And it’s like I never even lost her. I don’t want to scare her off. I don’t want to fuck this up.
I don’t want to lose her again.
“I’d like that,” I say, bating my breath.
She kisses the top of my hair. “You’ll drink with me?” She asks. I didn’t drink a whole lot in high school, so it makes sense why she’s asking me.
I shift in her arms, looking up at her. My thumb comes up to trace her chin, ghosting over her lips. I could get used to this - skin to skin, nothing between us. No distance. No history. Just love and desire and the sweet, sweet aftertaste of a night and morning well spent.
“I’ll do whatever you want, Paige.”
Paige grins at that, her cheeks appling with the smile that envelops her face. “Oh, yeah?” She teases.
I roll my eyes, knowing where this is going, and I sit up, letting the covers fall off of me, and it’s like her eyes have been hyper-programmed to zoom into my bare chest. “Jesus Christ, dude,” she says in awe. I straddle her waist, pushing her head back slightly. “Something wrong?” I ask, cocking my head.
“Mm-mmm. Everything’s perfect, ma,” she rasps out, and it sends heat straight between my legs as her hands find my bare ass.
It’s criminal how perfect she looks in the morning. Her hair is mussed from where my hands gripped her head while she went down on me this morning, her lips plump and bitten from the lazy makeout session we’d engaged in after. Her chest and stomach are littered with purple marks I’d claimed her with last night, tits perky and perfect and just begging to be sucked.
“You talk to all the girls like that?” I ask off-handedly, but there’s not one part of me that wants to know the answer.
“What’s that, ma?” She reiterates slyly.
“I said, do you talk like this to all the other bitches you fuck?” I bite, and though I’m not trying to rile her up, I can’t help taking her tits in my hands, kneading them while I toy with her nipples.
“Only the ones with asses like yours,” she tells me, her tone low and sultry, punctuating it with a squeeze.
I laugh at this, shaking my head at her.
“Or these tits, God,” she groans, hands coming up to cup my breasts. She kneads them slowly, coaxing small whimpers out of me as my hips buck of their own accord. Then her hand reaches up to lightly trace over my neck and I let out a small gasp. Her eyes flicker to mine. “Can I..?” I nod eagerly, and her fingers close around my neck, squeezing before trailing down. I let my head loll back. Her hand rests on my collarbones, splayed across them.
“Fucking… work of art,” she breathes, referring the the patchwork of marks she’s left across my neck and chest. It reminds me that she’s left a litany between my thighs, as well. Paige hesitates, then reaches one hand out to fumble for her phone. “You can say no,” she murmurs to me, but her eyes are blown so black when she looks at me that it hardly feels like an option.
I want her to have this. I want her to look at it when she’s in Connecticut and I’m in Michigan.
I want her to see it and remember that no one knows her like I do, that no one fucks her like I do.
I want her to get off to it, and I want it burned in the back of her eyelids the second she thinks about even touching another girl.
The steely determination of “mine, mine, all fucking mine” roars through my body as I move my hair to the side, exposing all the echoes of that same phrase she’s practically burned into my skin.
“Do it,” I say, daring her.
I don’t know where this confidence is coming from. Maybe it’s the way Paige’s lips part when she raises her phone camera up. Maybe it’s the breathy moan she lets out when she shifts back to get a better angle. Maybe it’s the way the bright blue of her irises are flooded with dark, dark, desire.
But I arch my back, pushing my tits forward. I bring my finger up to my mouth, biting it while winking slyly at the camera. “Fuck, Maya,” she groans, but I’m not done. I cover my tits with my hands, my palms just over my nipples, manicured fingers splayed out, and I throw my head back. Dumbfounded, Paige snaps more pictures, the click of the camera spurring me on.
Then I take her hand, pulling her fingers towards my mouth. I engulf three of them between my lips, covering them in my spit, licking over her rings, then guiding her hand to cup my breast. Her breath hitches, and I hold her hand there, bringing my other hand up to match it.
“Paigey,” I croon. She’s practically drooling, her eyes hooded when she meets mine. “Take the picture.”
She obeys, her chest stilling as she holds her breath. I hear the click of her camera, before her eyes slide to mine. Then she tosses her phone to the side, tugging me to her harshly.
“You’re the girl of my fucking dreams, I hope you know that,” she mutters, kissing me ravenously, hands roaming my body possessively.
“Mmmm, what are you gonna do with those pictures?” I ask.
“What do you think?” She grins, gripping my ass harshly.
“Say it,” I pant, knowing full well what she’s going to do with those pictures. But I want to hear it - no, I need to hear the admission from her mouth.
“Gonna fuck myself to them.”
“Oh, yeah?” The thought of it, of her long fingers sliding between her legs, doing to her what I do to her… it’s fucking gluttonous.
“Gonna get off to your perfect fucking tits, you like the sound of that?” She’s instigating, borderline begging me to slot my legs between hers and just ride her.
“You wanna show me how in the shower?” I ask suggestively, placing a kiss at her jaw and then peppering them down her neck. Paige draws back, eyes wide as she stares at me.
Then she practically shoves me off the bed, pushing me towards the bathroom.
*******
“I’m sorry.”
“I said it was fine, Paige.”
“Yeah, but the way you’re saying it doesn’t seem like it’s fine, dude.”
“How would you like me to say it, Paige? Huh? Please - tell me exactly how you would like me to say it, and I’ll do that. Okay?!” I know I’m being snippy at her, and she’s apologized a hundred times, but I’ve never missed one of her basketball games. Ever. At least not one as important as a state championship.
She knew that Michigan scouts would be at this one, and though I had already signed to dance for them, this would determine my placing on the squad my freshman year. It needed to be perfect.
I needed my rock.
So when I’d looked out in the audience, and I hadn’t seen her, I’d spiraled. The panic had settled over me, and I was lucky my autopilot kicked in on stage, because internally, I was freaking out. I just needed to see her. That was all I needed, to feel the calm of her presence wash over me, to know my person was in my corner when I needed her most.
“You’re being a bitch,” she snaps.
I glower at her. “I’m the bitch? Oh, I’m the bitch now?”
She steps to me, towering over me, her breath hitting my face. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are.”
“You could’ve told me beforehand,” I seethe. “You could’ve not made me feel like an idiot for- for searching for you in the crowd when you weren’t even fucking there!”
“Just like how you’ve made me feel like an idiot these past two months?!”
“Oh, don’t even fucking start-”
“No, I’m gonna start! I’m gonna fucking start, Maya, because you have no idea the kind of hell I was living in!”
“We’re done! We’ve been done for a week!”
“Two fucking months! I had to watch her kiss you and hold you and dance with you at my fucking high school prom! Did it ever occur to you, maybe even for a second, that maybe I wanted to do all that shit? That I wanted to buy your stupid fucking corsage and match our fucking outfits and make you a dumbass poster because I’m so fucking in love with you?!”
“You… what?” My room falls silent, echoes of the argument fading away.
I can’t speak. I can’t even breathe. “Paige,” I muster out. “What did you just say?”
She hesitates, eyes evading my own. “I love you,” she spits out. “Nothing I haven’t said before.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.”
“Fine! I’m in love with you, alright?”
I choke out a laugh, my voice still thick with tears. “You stupid idiot,” I smile affectionately.
“The worst thing she can say is no, they said,” she mutters to herself, still avoiding my gaze.
I shake my head, opening my arms. “Come here,” I sigh, and she stalks over reluctantly.
I wrap my arms around her, breathing in her scent. “Are you deadass not saying it back?” She demands, and I laugh.
“I’m in love with you, too.”
*******
“You look so beautiful in my clothes,” Paige mumbles, looping her arms around my waist and placing her chin on my shoulder as I finish touching up my makeup. “You’re such a kiss-ass,” I mutter fondly. “You liiiiike it,” she sing songs into my ear. I elbow her sharply in the stomach, and she lets out a dramatic “oomph!”. “Go get ready,” I tell her, and she frowns at me in the mirror.
“My girl so mean to me,” she complains under her breath. I roll my eyes, but my stomach flutters at that phrase. My girl.
I guess I am. Her girl, that is. I hardly think I ever really stopped.
Paige reappears in a white crop top and loose black jeans, sunglasses perched atop her head. I let out a low whistle at her in the mirror. She smirks at me. “You see something you like?” I nod, grinning mischievously. “Those glasses are sick. Can I have them?”
She scoffs at this and I edge past her out of the bathroom. “You’re such an asshole,” she complains. “That’s not what you were saying last night!” I yell back at her, digging through her closet. I pick out a stretchy, body-con black dress - one of the few really girly things Paige owns, and emerge with it in hand.
I quickly change, pretending not to notice the heat of her eyes on me. “Stop staring, you perv,” I toss over my shoulder, slipping the dress on. “You are not all that,” she shoots back, but I know her better. I stand up straight, smoothing down the dress, and take a look in the mirror. Eh. It’ll suffice.
“Not all that?” I muse, turning to Paige. Her arms are crossed stubbornly, but her eyes trail over my body. “Delete those pictures, then.” She rolls her eyes. “Get in the damn car,” she snaps playfully, exiting her room.
Paige drives us back to Azzi’s house, blasting some absurd amalgamation of Polo G and Rod Wave. I fight her for aux, comfortably folding my feet up into the seat. It takes me back to driving back from Drew and Matt’s rec games, or late night runs to Sonic for milkshakes back in Minnesota. “You needa go home after this, or..?” I twist my mouth. “Yeah, probably,” I sigh. Her hand lands on my knee, a securing weight that flushes me with warmth. “Your mom worried?” She wonders.
“You know her,” I mumble. Surprisingly enough, once I’d told my mom I was with Paige, she seemed okay with me having been gone for almost a full 48 hours. I open my mouth, then close it, hesitating. “You can stay at mine?” I suggest. She smiles at me, her face lighting up when her eyes flit from the road to me. “Really? You’re deadass?” I suck my teeth, nodding, then point an accusing finger at her. “Don’t make this a thing.”
“I’m not making it a thing!” She protests.
I narrow my eyes at her. “I can see it in your face. You’re making it a thing,” I grumble.
Paige sighs, moving her hand to lace her fingers with mine as we slow to a stop at a red light. She presses a soft kiss to my knuckles, deliberately holding my gaze, before pressing on the gas pedal again.
“Only thing I’m tryna make a thing is us, ma,” she intones, her gaze straight ahead, but a triumphant little smirk ghosting at her lips. I groan, detangling our fingers and throwing her hand back to her side of the car. “Oh, my God!”
“What? That was smooth!” She laughs.
“That was so fucking corny!” I complain.
“You know, what I didn’t miss is this attitude,” she tells me, shooting me a look as she pulls into Azzi’s neighborhood. I stick my tongue out at her, and she gives me a shove.
It’s… domestic in a sense - this rhythm between us. The banter, the touches - they feel like a choreographed dance. Because there’s still no one who knows me better than her. No one knows every part of me like she does. I stare at her as she unbuckles her seatbelt, biceps tensing.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. She glances at me, brows furrowed. “What? It’s chill, bro, I was playing.” I smack her shoulder lightly. “Not for that,” I hiss. “For… For putting you through that. Back in high school. You deserved better. I’ve been… blaming you all this time for giving up on us.”
She’s quiet, floundering for words, so I push on. “I’m the one who started our relationship like that. I shouldn’t have… placed all those expectations on you. And… and our first time being while I was with another girl - fuck, Paige, I didn’t even give us a fighting chance. I’m sorry,” I choke the last word out, suddenly emotional at the fact that the past day could have been the past few years.
“Hey, hey…” Paige says reassuringly. “Mai, it’s not your fault. Hey, look at me.”
Her hand cups my face, thumb brushing at my lower lash line. “We both fucked up. It’s not all on you.” I shake my head, sighing dejectedly.
“We were kids, dude. We were stupid and immature and we fucked up - I fucked up. I let you walk away, and I’ve regretted it every fucking day since. But this is… it’s forever. You have to know that.”
“Mai.”
I look at her, finally, and nod shakily. “Yeah. I do.”
She smiles softly, kissing my cheek. “Good. Let’s go inside, yeah?” And the second her hand slips into mine, my worries and insecurities fade into nothing.
Azzi’s house is raucous, Paige’s teammates’ laughter echoing off the walls over the loud music blaring in the background. There’s bottles upon bottles of every type of alcohol imaginable lined on Azzi’s counters. She hugs me tight when she sees me, smelling soft and sweet. “It’s good to see you again,” she tells me, smiling at me. I grin back at her. “You, too.”
Paige slings an arm around my shoulders. “Get my girl a drink,” she tells her teammate. Azzi rolls her eyes. “What do you want?” She asks me kindly. I loop an arm around Paige’s torso. “The exact opposite of whatever she’s having, please,” I reply, crinkling my nose. Azzi laughs when Paige looks at me and feigns offense. “I knew I liked you.”
A few hours into the ordeal, Paige is impressed with how much I drink, and I laugh at her shock. “You forget that my school is actually good at football. This is a full-time job, baby!” I hoot, about three drinks in. Ice tilts a bottle of tequila in my direction, and I whoop, grabbing for the salt on the counter and a lime. “Fill me up!” I cheer. I feel loose and free around Paige’s friends, and even more comfortable when Paige’s hand snakes around my waist. She presses a sloppy kiss to my shoulder, and I laugh happily, patting her cheek.
“Shot, P! Come on, come on! You have to catch up!” I gesture for Ice to pour Paige one, too. She obliges. I dust salt onto the backs of our hands. Then I get it done in one fell swoop: lick off the salt, grab a lime wedge, and shoot back the tequila. I cough as it burns down my throat, sucking quickly on the lime. Paige gags behind me, gesturing for a wedge that I shove into her mouth, giggling.
I watch as her face puckers at the sudden tartness, lithe fingers pulling it from her mouth. She tips her head back, and I take the time to take in the sharp angle of her jawline. Her head lolls back down, eyes seeking and meeting mine. Suddenly, it’s just the two of us in the room, the chatter and din fading into the background.
“Hi,” I say softly. She smiles down at me. “Hey,” she replies.
Ice coughs. “Y’all gonna fuck, or..?”
Paige splutters at her teammate, and I laugh good-naturedly, patting her arm reassuringly.
We all pile into Ayanna and Aubrey’s cars, heading to a club in Virginia Beach for the night. The strobe lights are piercing, but Paige’s hand at my waist is steadying. It’s all too good to be true - the fact that I even get to be this close to her again, the feeling of her body against mine, her hands all over me, her lips against my ear.
I wonder, for a moment, how the hell I made it three years without this, because now that I’ve tasted it, now that I’ve had her… I can’t imagine not having her.
Being with her is like going a hundred miles an hour down a highway at midnight, standing up through the sunroof, feeling the cold wind biting at your skin and staring at the stars, thanking God that you get to be alive at the same time as something so goddamn beautiful.
And you’re so delirious and happy and you’re going so fucking fast… you don’t even see the crash coming.
I sure don’t.
I’m drunk, falling against Paige, and she’s laughing, steadying me. “You good, ma? Can I get you some water?” She yells into my ear. I loop my arms around her neck. “My girl is sooooo good to me,” I slur, smiling stupidly. She matches my goofy expression. “Say that again!” She calls.
I laugh, throwing my head back happily. “My girl!” I yell gleefully, and Paige presses me to her. Her lips find my ear again, and she says, “Come on. Time for water.” Then she places the sweetest kiss on my temple, and my heart just about bursts. I let her guide me to the bar, slumping onto a bar stool while she goes off to hunt for water.
I focus on the spinning lights above me, watching them change colors. I’m so drunk and distracted that I must watch them spin for ten minutes. Maybe an hour? Fuck, maybe I’ve been here all night.
Shit, I think dizzily. Paige must be worried.
I should find her.
I stumble through the bar, my legs wobbling. My head pounds from the music and the alcohol, and I’m so drunk that I really think I must be imagining what I see next.
It’s Paige.
There’s some girl with her. I think for a moment that she’s far too short to be any of Paige’s teammates, and that none of them are redheads.
Then the girl places a hand on Paige’s chest. I’m frozen in place, watching it all unfold, feeling my heart clench and then shatter to fucking smithereens as the girl stands on her tiptoes.
And she kisses her.
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers fic#wcbb#fic#uconn wbb#✂️ anon#ncaaw#paige bueckers x oc#fic talk#paige bueckers smut
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heyyyy pookie!!! soo, I was the one that requested the "all yours" post, and first, I loveeeeee it never expect anything less of you!!! Secondly, i was wondering if you could do something like that, where y/n is not from Britain and English isn't her first language. Y/n is shy, so when she doesn't know a word she doesn't know how to say it and then her words end up being a whole jumble up. also, can it be just like a bunch of fluffiness and if u want a little bit of fun time?
ps y is this actually me
pps sorry if I'm asking so much and you don't understand, I just love mothers writing and English ain't my first language :)
Super short, but I hope you like it! And are you calling me mother?
😭😭😭 It's just ironic if you are bc I am one lmaooooo. Anyways, love you, pookie!
It Started With A Quill
Mattheo Riddle x Reader
Warnings: Cussing, that's about it
When you first met Mattheo, you were still struggling with English a little. You didn’t know or you forgot some words. It made going to a school in Britain, where everyone speaks English, a little hard. So, you were super shy when you met him in one of your classes and he sat down next to you.
“Ah, fuck.” He muttered to himself when he was looking through his bag. He sighed and turned to you. “Do you have a quill I could borrow? I forgot mine.” He asked.
“Quill.” You repeated the word, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at him.
“Yeah. A quill.” He nodded, not understanding you didn’t understand him.
“Uh…” You shrugged, a little embarrassed and awkward about the situation. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Now he was looking at you curiously. “A quill. To write with.” He said, making a gesture with his hand, mimicking writing.
“Oh!” You nodded, piecing together what he meant and handed him an extra quill from your bag. “Sorry, I’m not the best with English.” You said with a sheepish smile.
“Oh, English isn’t your first language?” Mattheo asked, tilting his head as he leaned back in his seat.
You nodded in response.
“How’s school for you then?” He asked curiously.
“School is…” You knew the word you wanted to say, but couldn’t remember it in English. “It can be hard at times. Like I don’t always…” You clicked your tongue, trying to recall the word.
“Understand?” He offered.
“Yes! Understand!” You nodded. “I don’t always understand the teachers. The words get mixed in my head.” You said.
“Sounds frustrating.” He sighed sympathetically.
“Um, what’s your…what do I call you?” You asked.
“My name? Mattheo. What’s yours?” He smiled ever so slightly, seeming to enjoy your struggle with words.
“(Y/N).” You answered. “Nice to greet you.”
“Meet. It’s nice to meet you.” He smiled as he corrected you.
You sighed, blushing in embarrassment. “Right. Sorry. Nice to meet you.”
“That’s cute.” He said, leaning forward to rest his head on his hand on the desk as he still smiled at you. “You get embarrassed so easily. You know it’s not a big deal, right?”
“I know. Still…” You shrugged, looking away. “People make jokes about it.”
“How about you teach me your language and you can make fun of me?” He said, looking over you now that you weren’t looking at him.
“You want to learn my language?” You asked curiously as you looked back at him.
He shrugged. “I've always wanted to learn another language anyways. This way I can get a personal tutor.” He said with a sweet smile, looking back in your eyes.
“Tutor.” You repeated the word. “Would you help me too?”
“I guess I can.” He said, turning his attention to the teacher as they started class.
That was how you met Mattheo and how he got you to give him private lessons in your language.
Taglist:
Let's see if this works this time
@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff
@ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl
@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @i-like-pandas5
#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader
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Yearling - Ch. 35: Answers
You leave Jackson to find your daughters. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-34 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only
Length: 5.4k
A/N: We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!
AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter
It was hard not to panic when the world was ending.
You’d lived through it enough by now, you thought you’d get used to it.
You never did.
“Who has them, Kyle?” You asked, holding the boy’s shoulders, searching his eyes. He was still panting for breath, still looking terrified. “I need you to focus, who has them.”
“That man, the one who was here a few months ago but left,” he said. “I can’t… He gave me so much to remember and I can’t…”
“Cody?” You asked quickly, even though you knew you were right, your chest tight. “Does that sound right?”
“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yes, Cody, it was Cody, he has them. He sent me here, to find you. He told me to bring you and just you back, said if we came with anyone else he’d kill them. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I was just trying to help, I swear…”
Your head spun but you didn’t have time to try to calm yourself down or even come up with a fucking plan.
“Did he say why?” You asked, leaving the teenager hovering in your doorway as you went to your kitchen. You found a notebook and ripped a piece of paper out of it, the pen hovering over it for a moment. Like once you wrote what was going to happen there was no turning back.
“He said you owed him,” he said. “And he that he would collect with them if it wasn’t with you. He said you’d know what that meant.”
You held the pen a little tighter. You did know what he meant and you knew the kind of man Cody was, what he would take if you let him.
You couldn’t let him.
“Kyle, go in the closet by the front door,” you said, wondering how your voice wasn’t shaking. “There’s my patrol pack in there, it has my flashlight, my axe and my knife. Get them.”
It wasn’t going to be enough but you didn’t have guns in the house and getting one would require talking to someone else, something you couldn’t risk, not when it was Savvy and Ellie on the line. You’d have to make do.
You tried to think of what to say to Joel, the man you loved more than you ever thought it was possible to love someone like that. How did you say goodbye to someone who meant that much to you when you didn’t want to leave?
You did the best you could, signing your name - your real one - for the first time since you’d married Joel.
“Found them,” Kyle said as you folded the paper in half and wrote Joel’s name on one side of it, leaving the note leaning against the flowers that he had picked for you before leaving town. You looked around the kitchen, at the spot on the counter where you perched as your husband cooked for you and the table where you sat with him and took a deep breath, hoping you’d see it all again.
“You know where to go, right?” You asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I memorized it.”
“OK,” you said, clipping your knife to your belt, thankful that you’d just fallen asleep fully clothed so you didn’t have to stop to get dressed. You were in one of Joel’s shirts. You always were, when he was outside Jackson, when he promised to come home to you. “Lead the way.”
You followed Kyle through the dark, quiet town. Even the Tipsy Bison was silent and you realized you weren’t sure what time it was but it had to be late, at least 3 a.m.
“We’ll have to sneak out,” Kyle said, his voice low. “It’s what we did when…”
You couldn’t think about it.
“Show me.”
There was an area of the fence, covered by a woodpile and not far from the schoolhouse, that easily pried apart, leaving enough room for a person to slip outside.
Kyle climbed through first and held it for you to follow before the two of you scrambled for the nearest tree line, hoping that you made it out of town unnoticed.
“How far?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder, your heart pounding.
“Three hours, I think,” he said. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Miller…”
“Tell me all of it,” you said, ignoring his apology. It didn’t matter now. “I need to know what we’re walking into.”
It made so much sense when he laid it out for you.
Savvy and Ellie had snuck out of Jackson the first night Joel was gone, the friends they were hanging out with apparently slipping out regularly. They stashed some pot outside the walls and liked to go sit and smoke when they thought they wouldn’t get into trouble, where they felt like they had some freedom. It was so typical of teenagers, it was almost funny. That even in the apocalypse, in a place like Jackson, the children found ways to rebel. Kyle and Savvy had wandered off from the group. They didn’t go far, just far enough that they felt like they had some privacy. Kyle wanted to ask her to the dance that was happening in a few weeks.
That’s where they ran into Cody.
He’d been nice, at first. Asking after Jackson, how things had been there. How he was thinking about trying to come back. He asked for information, enough that Savvy was starting to feel skeptical.
And then Ellie found them.
Ellie was worried, thinking that Savvy had been off on her own with a boy a little too long, and set off to find them. But she’d snapped when she saw Cody. She was a smart girl, she didn’t leave Jackson unarmed and she put her knife to Cody’s throat.
He’d just smiled, something in his eyes that made Kyle uneasy, more uneasy than Ellie’s knife did.
“Should fucking kill you right now,” Ellie had said, getting in his face. “Joel never should have let you live, I don’t give a fuck what she says…”
“Ellie!” Savvy tried to go for her but Kyle stopped her, catching her around her waist and holding her back. “You can’t just kill him, he hasn’t done anything!”
“Should listen to your sister, little girl,” Cody smirked. “I don’t come back, there’s a whole new set of problems for that perfect little town of yours.”
“Fuck you,” Ellie spat.
“You that serious?” He asked. “Come and get me. Tomorrow night. Bring your mom.” He’d looked at Savvy in a way that made Kyle feel sick. “And get your sister on board. Something tells me she might not know the real reason I left Jackson.”
Cody walked away then, Ellie’s grip still tight on the knife for a minute before she put an arm around Savvy and stalked back off toward town. Kyle couldn’t hear what they were saying.
When they made it back as dawn was on the horizon, he still wasn’t sure what set Ellie off. He wasn’t sure when Ellie and Savvy came to him the next afternoon, either, to ask him to go with them to find Cody that night.
“I want to have the upper hand,” Ellie had said. “And you already know about him.”
Savvy looked different then, something set and angry on her face. Kyle tried to ask her what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell him. He just went along with their plan, Ellie and Savvy out for Cody’s blood and Kyle wanting to keep the girl he was starting to fall for safe.
But they made a mistake.
They were outnumbered from the start, Cody bringing a dozen men to capture them. Ellie killed one as Kyle tried to run with Savvy but they failed.
“Thought I told you to bring your mom,” Cody had said. “But that’s OK. Sure we can work something out.”
He hauled the three of them away, walking a few hours into the forest, before sending Kyle back to Jackson to get you.
It explained so much of what had happened over the last day. The cagey way Ellie and Savvy were talking in the mess hall, the way Savvy had hugged you - Ellie had to have told her something - like she hadn’t in months, the odd way they were acting when you checked on them that night.
“How many men were there?” You asked.
“A lot,” Kyle said. “I don’t know for sure. At least 12 to grab us, we met up with probably another dozen or so after that…”
“Right,” you said, your heart clenching. You weren’t making it out of this. You tried to resign yourself to that, that the best you could hope for right now was getting the kids out in one piece. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“Besides you?” Kyle asked. “No. I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller…”
“It’s OK,” you said, trying to keep him calm. “You did your best, you stayed alive, that’s the important thing.”
The two of you walked in silence for a while, your heart pounding the whole time. You focused on getting to the girls. That’s all that mattered. You tried not to think about what was waiting for you on the other side of it.
“When we find them, let me do the talking,” you said as the sunrise tinted the horizon red. “And stay behind me. If you see a chance to get Savvy or Ellie away, do it. Otherwise, do what I tell you.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, a tremble in his voice. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t mean…”
“I know,” you said quietly. “Just get them home.”
You caught a glimpse of someone moving in the woods then, just on the edge of your vision, your head whipping around to track the motion on instinct. It was baked into you still, moving through the forest alone, being on guard, knowing when you were being watched. You’d survived most of your life that way and years in Jackson hadn’t pulled it out of you. The second you realized it was a man and not an animal, you adjusted your grip on your axe with one hand and reached behind you with the other, shifting your body so you were between Kyle and the man.
It took you half a second to place his familiar face, one of Mitchum’s henchmen who was low enough that he wasn’t allowed to touch you, a slow smirk spreading over his face.
“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he emerged from a fern and gave a long, low whistle. “Mitchum’s been lookin’ for you.”
“Bet he’s been lookin’ for you, too,” your hold on the axe tightened. You wanted to kill him but you couldn’t, not when you didn’t know where Ellie and Savvy were. “Unless you’re still his little bitch. But I don’t think he took too kindly to you taking off on him to serve some other asshole.”
“You always did have a mouth on you,” he said, trees and brush at your back starting to rustle. “But look where that got you.”
“And you were up his ass for how long?” You asked. “Where’d that get you, exactly?”
His eyes narrowed and you tracked where you were hearing movement around you, the sound drawing closer. Kyle’s shaky hand grabbed at your bicep.
“Don’t think the boss would be too happy with you picking a fight with our biggest commodity,” a man said from behind you. Kyle gasped and you felt him jump but you kept your eyes on the first man. “You know what he wants with her.”
“And what’s that, exactly?” You called over your shoulder, still tracking where Kyle was with your unoccupied hand.
“Leverage, of course,” the man came around to the front of you, smirking just like his friend. You didn’t recognize him. “Mitchum has the biggest operation around these parts and you, it seems, are the only thing he wants that he doesn’t have. Give him you on a silver platter? We get first pick of new territory.”
He looked you up and down in a way that reminded you of inspecting livestock. Your stomach turned.
“Don’t really see what all the fuss is about but,” he shrugged. “Don’t really give a shit.”
“You got my girls?” You asked, cutting to the chase.
His smile grew.
“So the boss was right,” he shook his head a little. “You women, so predictable…”
“If they’re not in one piece, I got no reason to leave you two idiots alive,” you snapped, losing your patience. You needed to see your daughters and you needed to see them now. “So if you don’t want my axe in your goddamn chest, you’re gonna take me to them right fucking now.”
He licked his lips.
“Might get the fuss a little more now,” he said, stepping close to you. He knew he had you, knew that you wouldn’t do anything that would risk Savvy or Ellie. “Gonna need that axe and knife and anything else you got on you or the boy. Then we’ll see if we can’t find your girls.”
You narrowed your eyes but surrendered your weapons anyway.
“Mrs. Miller…” Kyle whispered but you shushed him.
“I’ll keep you safe,” you glanced behind you toward him. “Stay calm and do what they tell you.”
You turned your attention back to the men in front of you, more emerging from the trees now.
“If you’ve hurt either of them, you have no idea the shit storm you just brought down on your heads.”
“Not much of a threat without your little toys,” he looked them over. “Something tells me we can take you just fine unarmed.”
“Cody tell you what I did to the men who tried to catch me last time I got out?” You asked, brows raised. For half a moment, there was a flash of concern on the first man’s face. You nodded to him. “He knows. Take me to my girls before you find out first hand.”
The second man quirked his jaw before jerking his head in the direction you’d been walking.
“Keep up.”
You only needed to follow them another 15 minutes or so, your heart pounding the whole time. Eventually, you came upon a clearing, a fire dying at the center of it with Cody standing right behind it, watching you approach with a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Hey there baby doll,” he said, prowling around the fire to meet you. “You don’t look too happy to see me.”
“Where are my daughters.”
He ignored you, like you hadn’t spoken at all.
“You’d think that, after last time, you’d learn…”
“Where are my daughters.”
“…that you should at least pretend to be grateful when you see me…”
Your patience was gone. If he didn’t have Ellie and Savvy, there was no point to this. No point to his game, no point to trying to make it out alive. You needed to see them and you needed to see them now.
The man at your left had a handgun in a holster on his right, one he wasn’t paying close attention to, his hands on his rifle that was strapped across his body. You, on the other hand, had paid attention.
You went for the gun, moving fast enough that he didn’t know what was happening until he felt the tug of you pulling the weapon from his side, turning to face you with a frown on his face after you freed the revolver, pulling the hammer back as you raised it and pulled the trigger. He dropped, Kyle screaming in shock at your back, and you turned the gun on Cody, pulling the hammer back again.
“WHERE ARE MY FUCKING KIDS!”
You could feel every gun and eye turn to you as you fought to control your breathing, the sound of birds taking flight the only sound beyond the echo of the gunshot and your scream. But you knew they wouldn’t shoot you, not when you were apparently so valuable to their boss and their boss was still breathing. And if they were smart, the wouldn’t hurt Savvy or Ellie, either.
“You know you wouldn’t make it out of here alive,” Cody said, stepping closer, until the barrel of the gun was in his chest.
“You think that matters if they’re gone?” You asked, brows raised. “If you killed them, all that matters is that I kill as many of you as I can before you take me down and I’m a damn good shot. So. Give me my daughters or another one of these fuckers dies.”
He gave you a cocky smirk and whistled. There was rustling somewhere you couldn’t see but, after a moment, three men brought out Savvy and Ellie, bound and gagged. You clenched your jaw but stayed still, eyes ranging over them as quickly as you could, looking for all signs of injury. They were still dressed, a good sign. Ellie had a cut at her forehead, Savvy had a bloody bandage at her arm. You clenched your fist on the revolver.
“See?” Cody said. “All in one piece. Now, hand over the gun before we have to change that.”
Ellie’s eyes went wide and she shook her head at you, frantic, but you ignored her.
“Untie them,” you said, gun still in his chest.
“Gonna need a little more incentive than that,” he said. “I know how you are with people who do you favors…”
“Untie them,” you said again, pulling your eyes away from the girls to meet his. “Let me talk to them, make sure they’re OK, then let them go with their friend. And I mean let them go, your men stay where I can fuckin’ see ‘em. You do that? I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” He asked, looking you up and down.
Your stomach turned.
“You heard me,” you spat.
He mulled it over for a second before smiling, cocky.
“Deal,” he said, jerking his head toward one of his men. They moved to untie Savvy and Ellie. “I’ll take that gun now.”
You lowered the weapon and turned it around in your hand before holding it out to him, handle first. He took it.
“Good as you are, don’t know if I ever thought your pussy was worth all the fuss Mitchum made over you,” he said, handing the gun to one of his henchmen. “But damn if it ain’t fun to watch you break.”
“Mom!” Savvy was freed first, running for you and throwing her arms around your neck. You clutched onto her, clinging to her, breathing in the scent of her, floral with a hint of apple and hay and gunpowder. “I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry…”
“It’s OK,” your voice was thick and you tried to focus on how she felt in your arms so you could hold onto that memory before stepping back from her. “Are you OK? They touch you?”
“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “They got my arm a little but…”
“They haven’t touched you since you’ve been here?” You asked, brows raised. “No one’s hurt you or…”
“No,” she shook her head. “No, they tied us up but they haven’t done anything.”
“Good,” you nodded, brushing her thick curls back from her forehead. “That’s good.”
Ellie approached you cautiously, like she was waiting for you to yell at her but you didn’t. You didn’t even want to, there was no point to it. Instead, you pulled her into your arms and held her tight as she pressed her face into your shoulder. You tried to remember her, too, the daughter who came into your life so late and that you desperately wanted more time with.
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice thick and wet. “I thought I could handle it, I thought…”
“S’OK,” you said, stepping back from her and looking her over, too. Her lip was split and the blood at her forehead was dried, the cut there scabbing over. “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. You’re in charge, OK? You’re going to get Savvy and Kyle back to Jackson…”
“But -”
“No,” you said, harsher than you really meant. “This ain’t a discussion, this is me telling you what you’re going to do, do you understand me.”
“I can’t just leave you here!” Her eyes were wide and desperate and you forced yourself to be calm.
“Yes, you can,” you said, taking her by the shoulders. “Ellie, the most important thing you can do right now is take care of your sister, do you understand me?” She nodded. “You get her and Kyle back to town. You’ve patrolled, you know how to do it safely. Get them there. That’s your job, they are your responsibility. Promise me you’ll get them home.”
She looked like she wanted to argue but you held her tighter.
“Ellie,” you said. “Promise me.”
“But…”
“Promise me!” You yelled it, loud enough that you saw Savvy flinch out of the corner of your eye.
“I promise,” she said, crying now.
It was like a weight lifted. You knew it was hours back to Jackson but, if Ellie actually kept her word, they’d make it. They would be safe. That was all that mattered.
“Thank you,” you pulled her in for another hug, kissing her cheek as you did. “I love you so much. Take care of yourself and your dad for me, OK?”
“I love you too,” she breathed.
You gave her a final squeeze and went for Savvy who was fighting back tears.
“Mom,” her voice was thick and wet. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” you said gently. “Go with Ellie, do what she tells you and you’ll get back safe. Listen to Joel, stick with school, find your place in Jackson. Have a good life, OK?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t want to do it without you,” she’d given up on not crying now. “I tried to before and I don’t want that, you need to be there, Mom, I need you, I…”
“Savvy,” you said, holding her face in your hands, brushing her tear-streaked cheeks with your thumbs. “Everything I’ve done for as long as you’ve been mine has been for you but you don’t need me now. You’re all that matters. You get back safe, you have a good life with people you love. You do that and I’ll have done everything I needed to do. So give me that, OK?”
You didn’t give her a chance to reply, just pulling her in close and holding her there, kissing her cheek as you did.
“I love you so much, baby girl,” you whispered.
“I love you, too,” she said.
You stepped back and looked at them for a moment before casting a glance at Cody.
“They need weapons.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
You rounded on him.
“Give them weapons,” you said through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll kill as many of your men as I can between here and Mitchum.”
He smirked a little before jerking his head in the direction of one of his men. They surrendered knives you recognized - ones you were sure Ellie and Savvy had come here with - and your axe.
“Better get going,” Cody said. “Before I change my mind.”
You just nodded and watched them go, Ellie and Savvy looking back at you as long as they could, Ellie pulling Savvy along side her as they went. You kept looking at the place where they’d been long after you couldn’t see them anymore.
“Alright Doll,” Cody said eventually, stepping forward with cuffs in his hands. “Wrists together. Not about to risk you changing your mind on that deal. You’re a little too valuable and it’s time for me to cash in.”
***
“Joel.”
Tommy sounded desperate. Joel ignored him.
“You can’t just take off…”
Tommy’s hand came to Joel’s shoulder but he ripped it off, rounding on his brother, moving quickly and decisively and backing the younger, smaller man into a building.
“You tryin’ to tell me I can’t protect my family?” Joel towered over him. “You gonna try and stop me?”
“Can’t do shit for them if you run out there hot headed,” Tommy said, his eyes darting over Joel’s face, like he was watching a wild animal. “You can’t help them if you’re dead, you need to wait, you need a plan…”
“I have a fuckin’ plan!” He didn’t have time for this. “Get my girls back. Don’t try to fuckin’ stop me.”
“Joel,” Maria’s voice was behind him, calm and collected. He turned to face her, ready to go through her, too, if he had to. “We have everyone out looking for them, there are no fresh horses because we sent everyone we had as soon as we could. We’re looking for their trail but they could be anywhere. Wait until we have people back to go with you, wait until we know where they went. If you run off now, you’re only going to make it worse. You’ll waste time. Give it a few hours, Joel.”
“A few hours?” He bit out. “You want me to sit here for a few fuckin’ hours while that monster has my wife and kids? Expect me to let him hurt them for hours while I fuckin’ wait?”
Maria didn’t have a chance to respond, the sound of chaos at the gate sending the three of them running for it.
Joel reached it just as three horses rode up. It took him a moment to realize they each carried more than one rider. His heart pounded. For one second - a glorious, peaceful second - he thought everything was going to be OK. That they’d found you and the girls before anything bad happened, that he was going to be able to hold the three of you close and never let you go again.
And then he realized that you weren’t there. That you’d gotten the children you shared with him back but you hadn’t made it.
“Joel!” Ellie jumped off her horse before it had fully stopped. “Joel, he has Bambi, we have to go get her, we have to.”
She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him and he could feel her taking shaky breaths.
“It’s OK Baby Girl,” he said, holding her close. “I’ve got you, you’re OK.”
“We have to go get her,” Ellie said again, frantic as she pulled back from him. “We have to.”
Joel, Tommy and Maria led the girls and a trembling Kyle to the clinic. Ellie and Savvy didn’t wait for the doctor to be done looking them over as they sat beside each other on the exam table, the story spilling out of them quickly. How they’d lied to you and snuck out of Jackson the first night he was gone. How they’d run into Cody in the woods. How Ellie threatened to kill him and Savvy didn’t understand why. How he told them to come back the next night with you. How Ellie had told Savvy everything she knew about what happened to you. How Savvy wanted to leave then and there to take care of it and Ellie had to make her wait, confident that they could handle him. How Ellie had killed men like him before, how she was sure she could do it again. How they got help from Kyle to be sure. How it had all gone to shit the second they were too far from Jackson to get help. How you’d come for them, how you’d sacrificed yourself to get the three of them out safely.
How Joel knew that’s exactly what you would do.
Because of course you would. It was exactly what he would have done. How would you have done anything else?
“We need to get her back, Joel,” Savvy was crying, pleading. “We can’t leave her there with him, we can’t, please…”
Joel looked between the two of them. He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask why. Why had they snuck out? Why had they tried to take matters into their own hands? Why had they put themselves in such danger? Didn’t they know, if they failed, you’d have no choice? That you would do anything for them? That he would, too?
But yelling and questioning wouldn’t do any good. What was done was done. Taking his fear out on them would only make shit worse.
“I’m gonna get her back, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “I’m gonna bring her home.”
He turned and gave Tommy a look, half begging for help, half daring him to stop him. Tommy just squared his jaw and gave him a single, firm nod. Joe returned it and the went to leave, but Ellie stopped them, catching them on the porch of the clinic.
“I’m coming, too.”
“No,” Joel shook his head. “No, you’re stayin’ here…”
“No,” she said sharply, a fierce look in her eyes. “I’m going. I can help, I know…”
“It don’t matter,” Joel cut her off. “Not putting you at risk…”
“I don’t care about the risk!” She snapped. “You can’t just expect me to sit here on my ass while she’s out there…”
“You think she’d want you gettin’ hurt for her?” Joel grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and held her tighter than he should. “She took care of you by…”
“By cleaning up a fucking mess I made!” She yelled before closing her eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She took a deep, centering breath before opening her eyes again, voice calmer now. “I never had parents, Joel. I never had anyone who loved me like that until you and then she showed up and she didn’t have any fucking reason to care about me like that but she did. She’s my mom and I got her hurt because I tried to handle shit on my own. I’m not handling it on my own now, I’m handling it with you. I know what you’re capable of. I know what you’re going to do. I’m telling you that I don’t want to be here when you do it, I want to be with you. I want to get her back and I want to make him fucking pay and I can’t do that from Jackson. So are you going to let me come with you or are you going to make me sneak out and try to handle this shit on my own again?”
Joel looked to his brother. He’d done shit like this more times than he cared to count but only twice with stakes as high as this. Every time, it was either alone or with Tommy at his side. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do what he normally did with Ellie there. He’d be worrying about her, watching for her, protecting her.
But they were out numbered and Ellie was a strong rider who was smart and good with a gun.
“She’s an adult, Joel,” Tommy said hesitantly. Joel could see in his eyes that he was thinking about William, if he would let his son do something so reckless if he had any say. “And she does a good job on patrol.”
Joel took a deep breath.
“You gotta listen,” he said. Ellie was already nodding quickly. “Do what I say so I can keep us all safe. I tell you to get back to Jackson, you do it. If you’re a liability out there, you’re makin’ things worse for her, not better. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Repeat it.”
“What you say goes,” she said, watching him closely. “I won’t fuck up, Dad. I promise.”
In another time, another place, Joel’s heart would have soared in that moment. Just knowing that Ellie saw him the same way he saw her made him feel complete in a way he didn’t realize he was missing.
But he wasn’t able to enjoy it. There was another vital piece of him that was gone, one he was going to get back if it was the last thing he ever did.
“OK,” he said, looking at Ellie. “Let’s go get your mom.”
A/N: Figured we'd kick off the more feral part of this fic with some Feral!Bambi. Don't worry, Feral!Joel fans, he's up next ❤️ As always, thank you so so much for reading and for sticking it out with this fic! I know it's been a long one. I'm glad you're still here. Love you!
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 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#yearling#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc
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Tether Me
Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader
Summary:
You ran.
It's what you did in life. It's all you knew how to do. You ran, ran, and kept running and never stopped, because if you stopped, it meant you were trapped, chained, a bird with shredded wings in a gilded cage.
So, how did you end up here, tucked away into a little village in rural Japan, falling into the depths of two black holes with no way to escape?
How could you run from this? From them?
…Would you?
CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)
AN: this is just the prologue chapter, sort of exposition. No bois in this one (technically), but I'm posting chapter 1 at the same time as the prologue. As a heads up, my most comfortable place for posting my longer fics like this is ao3. You can find more of my blurb thoughts on there. I'm not the best at tumblr posting, so forgive me pls ;-;
Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1
WC: 9.4k
You’ve always likened yourself to a kite, but less pretty and enjoyable.
Every time you glanced at a kite in the children’s toy section, or watched as thousands flew in the sky during festivals, your eyes stung and something bitter and uncomfortable twisted in your gut. In a way, you saw yourself in them; fragile little creatures tethered to the earth by no fault of their own. So easy to snap – to break.
They were always trapped, chained down, forever bound to either get reined back in after one had their fill of fun, or to fall like tragic angels to the ground when the winds died, and they would once again be unable to travel free amongst the stars where they belonged. All thanks to the threads wrapped around their very bones, far too strong for something that looked so thin and prone to fraying.
Yet nobody ever did release the chains. Who would willingly free their prized, imprisoned bird?
Of those pretty, unfortunate kites, you lamented with them.
You, too, were pinioned to solid ground. Your wings were clipped, feathers torn from flesh one by one until you were born in a body that could no longer fly. Responsibilities, duties, relationships – they all kept you drowning in a suffocating pile of down-stuffed pillows, filled with plumes that were once yours. They progressively got heavier and heavier, locking your limbs between illusions of comfort and safety, sitting on your chest and flooding your mouth until you choked and gagged and couldn’t breathe.
You were different from kites, sure, beyond the very obvious things. You weren’t a pitifully flimsy, inanimate toy, left forgotten in some closet, awaiting the one day you’d be remembered, taken out, and allowed to taste the breath of deities themselves again. But if you could glide in the wind like they could, oh, nothing would bring you more joy, more solace, even if you were still tied down. All for just a kiss of freedom.
You ached to be detached from everything and everyone. An untethered kite, a fledgling bird learning to fly, a paper lantern that glowed its very joy from within for all to see.
Paper lanterns.
You couldn’t stand paper lanterns, because you yearned so deeply to be one. How wonderful it would be to have a warmth alight inside you as you rose to the heavens, lighter than air.
You envied them.
They made you nauseous with longing.
They made you want to stretch your fingers high and try to catch one within your palm like a cascading star.
They made you want to reach your fist past your throat and rip out your heart barehanded, just to make the accursed thing stop pounding so goddamned hard in your stomach as it sank lower and lower with each additional candle that got to join their family of stars beyond celestia.
Because, for fuck’s sake, you belonged up there, too. Free, flaring, blazing and flickering so spectacularly that philosophers would wax poetic about you for ages to come.
It wasn’t fucking fair for you to be stuck on Mother Nature’s spine like this, burdened by the neutron star in your body that just grew more and more dense, urging you to dive into the ocean and let it snare you into its depths. You didn’t choose to spawn with a spirit disconnected from the flesh that acted as its prison, you didn’t choose to be jailed like this.
So why?
Maybe that’s one of the reasons you were drawn to kites. You pitied them. You pitied yourself.
You weren’t a kite. You didn’t want to be one, to have your boundless form fettered down. But when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, that’s all you could ever see staring back at you. A kite with faded, worn out paints that barely clung to the tattered paper, feebly held together by thin strips of bamboo that had been aged and mottled from the inside out by time.
You hated paper lanterns. You hated kites. You hated yourself.
As the years dragged on, from the moment your brain snapped into your body with the sudden realization that you were a conscious, living, breathing person, those ugly feelings festered and spread like a fungus that refused to abate even a trace, just a second so you could catch a breath of fresh air that didn’t reek of mildew.
The seconds spanned on for eons without prejudice, destroying your cells at the molecular level with each passing birthday that trudged reluctantly along.
In the back of your mind, the sensation of being asphyxiated by your own feathers that had been shorn away from you etched itself deeper and deeper into your psyche. You became restless, antsy, the variegated world around you fading rapidly. Colors you once saw as a child, before you could latch the inherent sense of wrongness in your chest to a concept, gradually dulled until all you were left with was a world tinged heavily in gray.
The streets you were raised on grew denser, despite the amount of people living on them never actually changing noticeably. The verdant grass of your backyard turned into a dominating presence everytime you laid your eyes on it, unruly and all-consuming, demanding an undivided attention you did not want to give. The orange beams that hung over black asphalt instilled a sense of panic in you that wasn’t there before.
You used to be fond of walking around your neighborhood in the middle of the night, when you rightfully should have been sleeping. An inverted circadian rhythm suited you well when you were young, unaware that the crushing sensation under your sternum would only get worse.
Now, though, the thought of straying out where there wasn’t enough light to see straight ahead made sweat form on your chest and palms while your teeth clattered from a nonexistent chill.
Everything caved in on you. Not in a rush, not in a cataclysmic flood. No, you didn’t discern you were fighting for air until you were already gasping fruitlessly. Lost, terrified, unsure, you could only bear witness to the collapse of your own mind.
Then, one day, a soft voice whispered in your ear.
Run.
It wasn’t a threat, not some ominous warning of death looming over your shoulder. It was a suggestion, an offering, an olive branch towards that freedom you coveted. It was salvation.
Who were you to ignore the hand of deliverance?
The first time you changed your scenery, moved elsewhere, even if it was only a few streets away from your childhood home, felt incredibly liberating. After so long that you had forgotten how it felt, you got the chance to gulp down air as if you had surfaced from beneath the perdition sea after spending your whole existence beneath it.
Color returned to your world, excitement formed anew, everything felt right. Achromatic wastelands turned into kaleidoscopic meadows, fulgent and lucid. You savored it, reveled in it, frolicked and danced and lived.
…It didn’t last.
Not long. You exhaled, and it all vanished, sand swept away by an uncaring and spiteful hand.
Once you had become used to the environment, when you no longer had to actively remember where your flat was, or how long it took to get to the store, everything was washed out; water dumped on a painting that had yet to form defined shapes.
That crushing sensation had returned, and with it the reminder that, as much as you wished you weren’t, you were a kite. Tethered, perpetually confined, worn bamboo strips and thin paper threatening to rend under the drag.
Thus, you ran again. A new town, a new city, a new skyline. Euphoria nestled cozily under your breast like a second heart, purring contentedly as it curled up on the nest of blankets it created for itself.
New places, new faces, new people. All of it was fascinating to you beyond measure. It interested you to no end to learn about other human beings; their thoughts, their perspectives, their preferences. What they despised with grit teeth and barely restrained anger clenched in trembling fists; what they loved so dearly that they could never drown beneath the same waves that followed your heels, tide rising progressively.
They glowed from within, bright and budding and vibrant. Their eyes flickered with life, glazed so clearly that stars sparkled in the depths of their hues. You were drawn to them, a moth to mesmerizing fire.
You felt free. You rode that high as much as you could, for as long as it would allow.
Until a realization struck you with the force of a bullet train one night. A man hung onto your arm, easy laughter shared between the two of you as you let him take you home. Alcohol tinged his breath, but not enough to give him anything more than a slight buzz. He was a total gentleman through and through, and you listened with eagerness as he spoke about his upcoming work project, his excitement palpable with every word.
His hand linked with yours, fingers intertwined, his warm palm engulfing yours. There was a comfort in that transient window of time, one you held to your heart. It was so unfamiliar, so addictive. And as you stopped before your door, having completely forgotten of your lack of wings, you waited with bated breath for him to slant into you.
A pair of infirm lips, minutely chapped and tasting of wine, pressed against yours, and dread exploded in your gut.
He pulled away from you, lovestruck in the way his eyes shone as he looked into your own, and reality crashed down on you with horrors in three measures, shattering like broken glass in the vortex of your conscious thought.
When you stared at him, watched the way he opened his mouth to speak, you made the connection.
“I really like you,” he had murmured to you that night, nearly shy. Yearning. Hoping.
Paper lantern.
“I want to ask you out properly.”
Tether.
His words sank into your skin like ice, digging deep, burrowing into your marrow.
Kite.
The illusion of pellucid skies of the richest shades cracked, the lush plains you fantasized of often turned to barren heaths, and all those tormenting feelings came back to choke your breath with a vengeance. Sickly fingers wrapped around your throat, sunk into your mouth, dug past your gag reflex, wrapped around your ankles and wrists until you could barely lift your feet just to move forward.
You remembered with great disdain what you were. You had managed to sever your thread by running off from the pod you were born in, but it wasn’t a clean cut. The string hung off your fragile wooden bones loosely, just waiting for somebody to grab and yank, to shred your freedom away from you once again, to leave you knotted around a pole to sit like decoration and stay.
You were not free.
You were not a paper lantern. You did not gleam from your soul like he did. You did not pour light from your heart and words and touch.
You’d do anything to forget that, to prove that sentiment wrong, to show the world that you weren’t a rock thrown into a pond. You’d do anything to change the narrative, to force a rewrite. So, you did what you always did.
You ran.
You found somewhere else to live, blipping off the radar unannounced. One moment you were there, the next you had cut your lingering thread an inch shorter, following the wind blindly like a duckling to your next destination.
Each time you settled down somewhere, you had this silent hope: maybe this is where I’ll be happy.
You clung to that hope, fervently ignoring the screeching whisper in your ear that said otherwise. The next place was never the final one. It never would be, no matter how hard you tried to delude yourself into believing you weren’t a lost soul, unable to move on. Some pathetic ghost you’d make, if you weren’t one already.
Whenever you let yourself rest for a heartbeat too long, the rope you had trimmed ever shorter was skimmed too close by too-warm fingertips, and you fled again, and again, and again.
That’s all you seemed to know nowadays.
Perhaps proven now, as you sat on a train in a foreign country, absentmindedly watching rural landscapes race past the window. Your knuckles pressed indents into your cheek, the sensation unpleasant and nearing on painful, though you had stopped paying any mind to it a while ago. Your thoughts laid scattered at your feet, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick them up.
Rather, the white matter of your brain was being filled with the empty, buzzing tune of songs you’d heard a hundred times over playing through your earbuds at the loudest volume possible. It made things easier to manage during this grand, several-thousand-mile-long trip. The less thinking you had to do, the better. It was the absolute last thing on your bucket list, loitering just under the cutoff line, hoping to sneak in a few words you refused to listen to.
You couldn’t let yourself regret this. You wouldn’t.
Not now, not after you’d already dropped everything and dissipated beyond the welkin’s gaze. You had only one place you could go to at all now, and you were already on your way there.
So if you had to blast your eardrums out to bridle the whisper-shouting voices spurned by overthinking, so be it.
Rice paddies blurred by, blending in from one farm to the next. The sun reflected off the waters the stalks soaked in, absorbing the warmth the light provided and feeding the plants with the fruit of life. Somewhere along the way, you had begun counting each field you passed for no particular reason.
You thought it’d lull you to sleep like counting sheep, subconsciously desiring to sink into a dreamless abyss and catch up on the hours that had been eluding you every night for months up to this point, given how far away you still were from your destination. But your cerebrum was not kind to you, and your body refused to succumb to the tempting allure of nothingness.
Thus, you remained as you were, counting paddies as the day never quite moved forward. The sun dwelled high, trying to glare down on you, but it couldn’t get the angle right to invade the shade of your tiny cabin room on the train.
It stayed stuck to the center of the sky, mighty and proud. But then, after what seemed like only a few seconds, you blinked, and suddenly it was hanging off the horizon’s ledge.
With a slight jolt, you realized the train had decreased in speed, and was continuing to lose momentum as it approached an isolated station, all alone in the countryside. You checked the time on your phone, your eyes feeling unusually heavy and sticky. It was only early night, but you were worn down to your sinew.
Right. Jet lag. You had hopped on a plane and traveled to the other side of the planet on a whim, another desperate attempt to grab onto the concept of freedom you craved. It didn’t take you longer than a week to find a small house deep in the pastoral lands of Japan, where mountains wrapped around the valley like a scarf. You chose Japan, if only because you learned the language when you were studying abroad some years ago.
It resided in a town of such a low population, blissfully around 600, it was a wonder you could even find a train that took you this far to begin with. Of course, that meant the house was decently rundown, with a community small enough to consider it unnecessary to repair. You couldn’t care less. All that meant to you was that it was cheaper to buy it outright than rent a more maintained structure. Buying it was a risky move, given your track record of up and ditching the last bed you slept on without any hindrance, but, at this point, you were tired.
You just wanted to be somewhere for longer than a month or two. Maybe owning a house was contrary to your desires to be unbound, with no board to pin your tattered and thin wings to, sure, the pros far outweighed the cons.
Cheap shelter, little to no people, far, far away from anywhere you’d been before. Three for three.
It’d still be a 45 minute drive or so before you actually got to your new residence, but you weren’t in any particular rush. You chose the most isolated place on purpose. Less people, less deafening sounds, less claustrophobic, brutalist structures that loomed higher and higher.
Less chance of being tied down.
With a hiss and a loggy wheeze, the train settled into place, jostling you as you got to your feet and stretched your arms above your head. The muscles in your back and shoulders twinged from sitting in the same position all day, and your legs stung like sparklers, but it was nice to work your joints properly again. After tucking away your phone and earbuds, you tugged your luggage down from the overhead rack with a grunt.
You were hopeful that there’d be taxis outside the station, and that you wouldn’t have to walk to the village. Who knows how long that would take. You’d probably keel over after the first mile. The thought made you snort while you squeezed down the aisle, suitcase with your bag stacked on it rolling behind you, purse strapped across your torso. The conductor – a sweet, older man – nodded silently to you as you disembarked, waving a farewell to you, which you returned. He was nice, you remembered him greeting you when you first boarded.
He didn’t talk much, just a polite, “welcome aboard,” while the ticket collector pointed you in the direction of your cabin, which you greatly appreciated after hopping off a plane and hurrying your ass over to your required station. You were too spent for conversation.
Leaving the station was much easier than you expected. Unlike your home country, where you could get lost just by turning 45° to the left, Japan seemed to prefer neater environments that were easy to navigate. And, upon stepping out of the building, you rejoiced at spotting a few variously colored cabs waiting along the curb. Outside of one stood a man, roughly in his 50s or so, who waved you over.
“Need help getting somewhere, miss?” He questioned, and you nodded as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your emails to find the one confirming your purchase of the listing.
“Yeah, could you take me here?”
He glanced down at your screen when you showed him the address and chuckled quietly. “Well, that’s a surprise. Last time I visited that house was some twenty years ago to take the owner to the station, rather than from.”
You blanched nominally. Twenty years? Had your house really been abandoned for twenty years? The listing claimed it was only ten max, that estate bastard. A sigh left through your nose. Too late to deal with that now, you figured. “I just purchased it.”
The man nodded as he popped open the trunk and assisted you in slotting your luggage inside. “You look like you’ve come from far away. It’s rare for foreigners to choose to live in such a distant location. Not a fan of the city?”
I fucking hate cities.
“Something like that, yeah,” you assented, thanking him as he opened the back door for you.
You appreciated his efficiency as he wasted no time dilly-dallying around. As soon as he was buckled up in the car, he was on the road, taking you down the last leg of your trip. The world outside the window streaked by in shades of violet and blood orange as the sun hovered on the edge of the skyline, reluctant to rest for the night.
“Ah, apologies. I’m Hayato Kazuhiko, you may call me Kazu, if you prefer,” he quickly introduced himself, and you followed suit. “Why’d you choose this little village of all places? It’s very small.”
You hummed. “That’s exactly why I chose it. I’m not a big…people-person, if you know what I mean.”
The older gentleman chuckled lightly. “My wife is the same,” he nodded as he peeked at you via the rearview mirror. “She had to visit the small town I used to live in one day, and it was love at first sight for us. She was immediately drawn to country life, and we’ve lived out in the neighboring town here ever since.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Twenty-five years,” he nodded, and you could see the pure love and devotion in his eyes as he spoke about his spouse. It was wholesome, and softened your heart a sliver.
He was surprisingly relaxing to listen to. Pleasant voice that didn’t grate on your ears, a few stories shared about his wife, the occasional tale about some significant structure or location. It was calming, in an odd way. He’d point out a shrine or hiking trail you’d pass by, and offer to take you to them one day to teach you its history and meaning, and you actually considered it.
It could’ve been the harmless nature about him. Even as night descended and you could only really see his silhouette, inspecting him reminded you of your father, but…better, for lack of an accurate word. You weren’t afraid that he’d suddenly raise his voice, or take you down a suspicious road – or, hell, back to the train station to send your sorry ass right back to where you came from.
“Mr.–” you cut yourself off and cleared your throat, mildly embarrassed about slipping back into your mother tongue. Japanese honorifics were something you continued to struggle with. “Hayato-san, do you have children?”
He gave a mellow laugh and shook his head slightly. “Please, just Kazu is fine. And I do, three of them, in fact. A younger son, and twin girls about your age,” he estimated roughly.
So the fatherly air to him you picked up on wasn’t imagined. That brought you a form of reassurance you couldn’t distinctly name.
“My twin girls are all the way up in Tokyo,” he continued, chest puffed with pride, “and my son is still in highschool, causing chaos.”
“Chaos?” You raised a brow.
“Yes, but not the type you’d think,” he hummed. “He’s a gentle child, but his kind nature means he’s unfortunately quite gullible and gets himself into trouble.”
A voice, the faint echo of a memory long lost, intoned in the far reaches of your lucidity; someone shaming you for getting caught up in an issue that wasn’t even your fault. Your stomach twisted with dread, and your head snapped to peer at Hayato, expecting to find disappointment shining in his eyes when you studied them through the rear-view mirror.
Except, there wasn’t any.
Concern at most, a crease in his brow as he warred within himself between protecting and helping his kin, or letting the kid learn on his own. There wasn’t any disappointment, or anger, or exasperation. You could see him reminiscing as he stopped talking, focusing more on the twists that followed the mountain’s curve, and all you saw was just…love, and happiness.
The churning in your gut settled, instead replaced with a sense of hollowness. Not the kind that made you sick; rather, it was like you had a gap in your chest where a puzzle piece was missing, while his was filled with a perfectly fitted heart.
Bittersweet, possibly, but only distantly so. You felt happy for someone who was borderline a complete stranger to you, someone you shouldn’t even care about beyond tipping him well for driving you to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night, but you did anyway.
Maybe I could have had that too, your thoughts mutedly supplied, if I was normal.
Then again, you didn’t want that, not really. Though you couldn’t tell if that was just who you were as a person, or a result of the coals perpetually under your feet, it didn’t change your mind.
Nothing could.
You were sure of it.
Smooth concrete eventually became a densely packed dirt road when Kazu turned off the main path, the car vibrating as the wheels rolled over loose stones and gravel. It didn’t last long, thankfully, as the shabby looking pile of wood came into view, albeit dark since the stars overhead were too dim to illuminate anything much.
“Where we are, miss,” he spoke as you both climbed out of the vehicle and met at the trunk. He opened it to retrieve your luggage, and you pulled your wallet out of your purse and counted off a few bills, wondering what the right amount to give to him would be.
It was hard to translate currency worth when things were valued differently in this country. Your trip abroad was a long time ago.
“Is this enough?” You peered up at him and held out the bills.
He took one glance at them and chuckled deeply. “That’s far too much, really,” he replied as he pulled only two of the strips out of the small stack you were holding. “Be careful with your money while you adjust to the currency of this country. Do you need assistance with your luggage?”
“Oh,” you analyzed the remaining money in your hands before tucking it back into your wallet. You really hoped he took the right amount needed and didn’t undersell himself. “No, I’ll be okay. You got me here in one piece, that’s all I could ask for.”
“Are you sure?”
Your head bobbed as you inspected your suitcase and bag, popping out the handle. “Yes, I am. Drive safe, Kazu-san. Thank you for taking me here.”
His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Please, it’s my job. You are pleasant company.”
“Likewise,” your lips rounded into a smile as you bowed politely. It was small, and you were tired, but it was genuine, the first one you’ve had for a long while. “Goodnight.”
Kazuhiko waved his hand in farewell, bidding you good dreams as he climbed back into the taxi and drove off, leaving you alone.
Your lungs deflated.
The air here was crisper, stinging your throat in a pleasant way as you inhaled slowly. Faint hints of pine and sap drifted across your senses. Nothing indicated any heavy stenches of smog or gasoline or gods know what litters the streets of every downtown city you’d been to before.
It would probably take you a while to get used to, and you oddly didn’t want to, if only so you could admire the fresh fragrance every time you stepped outside. Your muscles relaxed, surprising you as you hadn’t noticed just how tense you were until you were perched outside the front gate of your brand new (old) lodging.
Turning to face it, you groaned upon the realization that it was on a hill. Said hill was tiny, mind you, but a hill nonetheless. You found you couldn’t give much of a shit right now, just yearning to lay down and pass the fuck out for a while. Maybe the rest of tomorrow, too. A few weeks, actually, if you were allowed to choose. A coma sounded wonderful.
“Home sweet home,” you mumbled to nobody in particular as you pushed open the gate and virtually jumped out of your skin at the near shriek it gave. Okay, it had to have been longer than 20 years, that was loud.
With your heart fluttering rapidly, you made a note to deal with it (and everything else) later and trudged up the incline, almost eating shit and dying when the toe of your boot caught on the edge of a stepping stone. Another thing to add to the “deal with later” list. You had a feeling it would just keep growing exponentially.
Finding the key was easy, for better and worse. It simply sat in the door knob’s lock, very safe and secure and definitely not putting your house at risk of…what?
There was nothing in there, evident when you pushed open the front door, which wailed just as loudly as the fence gate. You felt the blood drain from your face. Sure, the interior was empty, but the house was a wreck. Peeling walls, strange, crusty scent, and a sticky floor at the entrance that made you grimace when your sole pulled off it like velcro. You knew that it was custom in Japan to take off your shoes at the door, but fuck that. Absolutely not. You were not walking in any part of this house either in socks or barefoot.
Everything was virtually pitch black as you delved further in, so you depended on your other senses, and the ability to smell was one you wished you didn’t have. Your nose wrinkled as various rotting odors welcomed you, making you immediately regret going through all this.
Morning. You’d deal with it all in the morning.
Practically sneaking on your tip-toes, you explored the open space, trying to find the room that smelled the least and was passable to sleep in. Granted, there were really only two actual rooms down a hall going opposite of the kitchen besides the restroom and washroom, but the bigger one seemed decent.
At least you had a sleeping bag and wouldn’t be conking out on the bare floor. You went through the motions of prepping for bed mostly by habit, doing the bare minimum seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice. You brushed your teeth with the water from your tumbler, located and unrolled your sleeping bag, and climbed under the rustling top after yanking your shoes off, zipping it up as far as it went.
Admittedly, the setup was kinda janky, but it got the job done.
You couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.
With your head plopped on probably the least comfortable pillow you had found to bring with you (also the only one that would fit in with the rest of your shit, it was practically a pillowcase filled loosely with sporadically placed lumps of stuffing), you closed your eyes, and your body finally let sleep take over.
─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────
Morning was not pleasant. Surrounded by the musty scent of gods-know-what, back aching from the restless sleep you got from your pitiful sleeping bag and the hard floor, you were groggy beyond belief and desperate for fresh air. And a massage. And a cigarette.
You didn’t smoke, finding the heavy and pungent funk nauseating, but the temptation was there. You felt you gained a little more understanding of smokers.
Brushing the thought aside, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and rubbed the heel of your palm against the sore spot on the side of your skull. You would have believed someone replaced your pillow with a rock if you hadn’t intimately known that lump of fluff. Or, rather, lack thereof.
Red lines, tender to the touch and tingling a little, were pressed onto the arm you laid on for most of the time you slept, causing you to hiss when you traced your fingers against them. It seemed to be barely past dawn when you reviewed what was out your window, leaving you questioning just how long you slept, if at all.
Figuring you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway, you shoved yourself out of ‘bed’ and groaned when every joint in your body popped and every bone creaked. Hell, you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep tonight again. Not here, anyway. More problems for future you.
She’d certainly be happy about that. She already had so much shit to handle.
The growl of your stomach reminded you that food was something you needed to consume to continue living.
Reluctant as you were to do anything, you figured going out by starvation was 1) probably not the best idea, and 2) you wanted to be out of this dingy torture shed.
What was unfortunate was that you, like a smart person, didn’t bring anything more than snack bars and those weird trail mixes with the fruit cubes that you just threw into your bag without much care. It was really the only motivation you needed to walk your sorry self out the door.
After you brushed your teeth and changed your clothes, of course, being very careful to not let anything touch the floor.
Stepping out of your home through the shabby and creaky door with your purse slung across your chest, you were met with the grandiose sight of mountains surrounding you on every side. They rose high, aching to brush the sky and touch a star, just one, just once, just for a second. Covered in thick greenery, you figured the faint yet present scents of cedar, pine, and other woodsy tones were carried down into the valley from the steep inclines.
You couldn’t see any of these details nearly as well when you were dragging your tired ass to this place with ink covering the sky in a thick veil, but it truly was breathtaking.
Had nature always been this green before?
Having only done some cursory research on the village – namely, population – you didn’t bother giving yourself time to actually inspect photos of the tiny rural town. From what you’d seen anyway, pictures could never do it justice. A velvety breeze brushed against your cheek, prompting you to tuck your hair behind your ear and pivot towards the direction the gale came from.
Your breath left you in a silent ‘oh’, mesmerized by the incredible view of the rising sun you had. It shone valiantly and radiantly through the gaps it had carved out between the towering peaks itself, illuminating the land in shades of brilliant gold with its splendor.
For perhaps the first time in your life, you felt…nothing.
Not a sense of hollowness, nor a void in your chest, no. A peaceful kind of nothing, as if not a thing in the world could take your mind away from this newfound elysium you found in sharing the morning’s shine with its source.
Invisible fingers caressed your jaw, threading through your hair with the gentle touch of adoration, as if you were delicate.
You hated to be treated like you were easily breakable, as fragile as glass, but this sensation was consoling, rather than degrading. The wind cherished you, not akin to a brittle figurine, rather as someone who was beautiful and worthy of gentleness unsullied by pity or licentious intentions. As if you were someone to be worshipped and revered.
A mother combing her fingers through her daughter’s hair, humming a lullaby only she knew the tune of.
Perhaps it wasn’t impossible to find what you were searching for. You didn’t know what it was exactly, a question without an answer, but it gave you a place to start.
With a deep breath swelling behind your ribcage, filling your soul with air untouched by sickly city pollution you were so accustomed to, you turned and began heading down the beaten dirt path that led into the heart of the village. The early summer warmth was pleasant on your skin, not too hot given the time. It seeped into your cold fingers and made them ache a little less with each minute going by.
While the town you had chosen was visually quite a bit older in style, with smaller structures dotted about reflecting traditional Japanese designs, there were some modernities. Electricity was, fortunately, one of them.
Based on the fact that you found and bought the listing online, you figured there was likely a way for you to get your hands on some Wi-Fi here, too. You’d probably die without it.
The nearer you drew to the center of the population, the denser the structures became. Not to say they were rubbing walls, but neighbors were only a short few steps away, compared to the distance between your own house and the one closest to it.
Minka houses in significantly better condition than yours spanned either side of the road as the terrain shifted from soil to asphalt. They were beautiful, and you bet that living in that kind of house in this kind of place was either absurdly expensive, or dirt cheap, with no real in-between. You were personally on the latter end of this, which probably wasn’t a good thing.
Doomed by the narrative once again.
Off in the distance on an elevated surface, you could see what you thought was a Wayo Kenchiku temple, if you had to guess. Its overlapping roofs were a deep green in shade, nearly black. They protected the desaturated brown walls of the building, and you were taken aback by how easy the temple was to see from where you were.
It sat across a wide river, one surprisingly calm as you approached it. It rushed along, springing with glimmering waves that shimmered under the light and frothed white around raised boulders. Despite it coming across as fairly deep, you could see clear through to the bottom, with the water itself being a refreshing shade of clear blue. A bridge spanned the rift, made of sturdy wood that had dark railings protecting either side of you, matching the aesthetic of your surroundings.
The bridge whined under your weight, but didn’t shift, giving you some reassurance that you wouldn’t go crashing through the planks. It led into the most packed section of the whole area, with structures built closer together, bearing a more modernized likeness, while retaining its unique characteristics.
In truth, though you remained apprehensive, the voice that scratched at the back of your skull everywhere you went and pestered you to run, run, run, had quieted. You hadn’t registered it, the silence, too focused on taking in your new surroundings as a serene blanket covered the thoughts that usually pranced wild and free in your cranium, putting them to rest with a whispered mercy:
This feels right.
It didn’t take you long to spot what you figured was the local grocery store. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, peering at what products you could see on the shelves and aisles from where you stood. Being an anxious little creature, you double-checked to make sure you had your wallet, as well as the translated bills within. Last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in a place where everybody knew everybody.
Reassured, you chose a random aisle and headed down it, skimming the products to see if any of them appeared even vaguely familiar to you. Besides cans of soup and tubes of Pringles, there wasn’t much for you to grab onto. Sure, there was ramen, but you didn’t have a way to boil water. Cereal and milk, maybe?
Shit, no, you didn’t have any cutlery or dinnerware. Unless you wanted to be a sad raccoon and eat raw cereal straight from the box, but you weren’t that desperate.
Yet.
Mentally crossing out your options as you went through them, you nearly knocked over an entire row of items when you almost ran into an older lady who stood in the middle of the strip, watching you.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You hopped back a foot, raising your hands in front of you placatingly. “I-I didn’t see you there, am I in your way?”
The woman laughed and shook her head, her smile reminding you of a grandmother that’d sneakily give her grandkids candies while their parents weren’t watching. “You’re quite alright, I was actually wondering if you need help?”
“Oh, uh…” Bashfully scratching the back of your head, you glanced at the various bags of foodstuffs beside you and debated your choices. Say no, when it was painfully obvious how green behind the ears you were, or set down your pride and ask for assistance.
Your stomach chose for you, warning you to suck it up and get food before it began eating itself.
The woman’s chuckle was heartier the second time around, her eyes glimmering with mirth as she motioned for you to follow her. Feeling a bit like a scolded child, you trailed after her while she wove her way around her store towards the produce section at the back. She pulled a random fruit from the thunder-rain-shelf-thing (you honestly had no idea what it was called) and rubbed it against her apron before handing it to you.
“Eat,” she insisted.
You blinked rapidly, peeping the fruit, the sign for it, then her. “How much…?”
The lady waved her free hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Eat, I insist.”
You were going to argue further, but a deep cramp in your gut had you sinking your teeth into the sweet and wonderfully-textured treat. As embarrassing as it was, you borderline moaned as you chewed, quickly taking another bite. Whatever it was, it tasted divine.
This time, when she directed you to move with her, you followed without hesitation. “Thank you so much,” you mumbled as she pulled out a chair from behind the counter and urged for you to sit on it.
“It’s nothing, I can’t let you go hungry, now,” she swept away your worries. “You’re new here,” she stated, rather than asked.
You nodded through another bite, waiting until you swallowed before continuing the conversation. “Yes, I got here last night.”
“Oh? Are you visiting someone?”
“No, I moved here.”
Her brows raised. “Really, now? Who are you staying with?”
Mid-bite, you stopped to address the matter. “Oh, no, I’m not living with anyone. I purchased the house just outside the village.”
The way her eyes widened was nearly comical. “That place? Now, that’s a surprise.”
If you had a nickel.
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that now,” your lips tugged into a frown and you stifled it with another chomp into the sweet object in your hand.
At that, she simpered mutedly. “I apologize. I’m merely awed that it was still standing, let alone that someone had bought it. Last I heard, there hasn’t been anyone living there for, oh, maybe 20 years or so.”
The realtor, that dog. He did lie to you after all.
You scornfully hoped he was enjoying spending your money.
Picking at your cheek with your free hand, you looked away with a nervous giggle. “Yeah, it’s…not in great shape. I have a lot of work cut out for me.”
“You’re going to try to repair it?”
“Yeah. Keyword being try.”
“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.”
You sighed. “Me neither, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”
The woman shook her head, smiling regardless. “You let me know what kind of help you need. There are plenty of handymen in this village of ours, I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”
“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” you pouted, hurriedly introducing yourself.
“Just call me Granny. And I won’t take no for an answer, missy,” okay, now you really felt scolded. “I won’t stand for you trying to fix up that cluster of wood by yourself, it’s far too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be staying there while it’s in that condition, either. Give me a moment, let me find someone you can stay with.”
Panic rose up in you and you waved your hands frantically in front of you. “N-No! It’s fine, I’ll– I’ll figure something out, really, don’t worry. Please.”
Granny eyed you suspiciously, her hand hovering over the landline on the wall. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! It’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”
Her eyes remained squinted, even as she lowered her arm. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need any kind of help, big or small, come to me right away, okay?”
Relieved you wouldn’t have to interact with more strangers, you nodded and deflated. “I will.”
“Promise me, young lady.”
“I promise.”
She grinned brightly and ruffled your hair. “That’s a good girl. Let me pack you a few things to take with you so you have something to eat.”
“Ah– wait, I…I’m not very good with currency yet,” you halted her sheepishly. The prices were still confusing as fuck to you. Man, how the fuck were you going to manage this when you get a job? If?
“Nonsense, it’s on me. I won’t charge you.”
Sorry, what? Did she do that for every person she met five minutes prior?
“But– but that’s not–”
“Finish up your peach,” she asserted as she was already walking away with a bag in her hands that wasn’t there a second ago. What was it with grannies and having some weird, innate magic?
Your eyes darted down at your half-eaten peach, surprised to learn that it wasn’t some foreign fruit you’d never even heard of before, let alone tried. It was an exceptional blend between succulent and rich; easy to bite into and chew without pouring juice all over yourself.
The fuck kind of peaches have you been eating before?
Sensing you might be buying these often if they were this good, you had well-nigh inhaled the rest of it by the time Granny came back with a stuffed bag.
“Here you go, dear,” she held out the shopping bag to you, which you took graciously after tossing out the peach pit into the small trash can by the counter.
Glancing into the bag, your lips shifted downwards. It was filled with a few different fruits and veggies, a couple bags of snacks, but mostly packaged food that looked like it could be eaten as is without needing to worry about cooking it. Your guilt skyrocketed. “Granny, this is too–”
“Don’t worry about paying. Save your money for the repairs of that home of yours.”
Your head shot up, eyes widening. “I can’t–”
“You can because I say so, young lady,” Granny puffed out her chest proudly, using a motherly tone that easily put you in your place, much to your bafflement. You didn’t even listen to your own mother like this. “Come back in the evening, I’ll have something cooked up for you.”
“You really don’t–”
She made brushing motions with her fingers, shooing you off the chair. “Off you go. There’s a lovely little pergola in the park, go have breakfast there. Just turn right when you leave and keep walking straight.”
Flustered, you let her push you along out the door, your confused brain trying to catch up. “Granny–”
“I’ll have a list of handymen for you when you return,” she informed you right as she managed to get you out the door. “Explore the town while there’s still daylight!”
And just like that, she was back in her store, sweeping with a broom that you swear materialized out of nowhere. You stared at the shop for a good minute, blinking dumbly until you processed whatever just happened.
You still weren’t wholly sure. You went in, expecting to grab a bag of something random to ‘feed’ yourself with, and left with a bag full of free food from a woman who spontaneously decided to give it to you.
The fuck. She’d go bankrupt if she just kept giving strangers sustenance off her own back.
Your own feet seemed to carry you along as you exhaled through your nose and took her instructions to heart. Too late now, you’d feel bad if you went in and returned everything. It’d be insulting at this point, and you were hungry, anyway
A cooked meal did sound lovely as well, discomfited as you were. You had never met your own grandmothers – not in person at least, so you had no idea if grandmothers were simply like that or not. Regardless, you had a feeling she was going to fill that role in whether you liked it or not.
Luckily, you were drifting towards like. She did give you free food, after all, and was going to find help for you. That part you were more apprehensive about, however, stubbornness and introversion making you want to be stupid and attempt to pick up carpentry out of nowhere.
All you could do was try to accept it and sigh, taking in the sights, stores, and dwellings as you walked past them and towards the park. A couple shops caught your eye, particularly a clothing boutique, and what could possibly be a hardware store. You weren’t certain, and didn’t want to find out yet. The prospect of entering one and facing the big ass sign that said ‘you don’t know what the hell you're doing!’ was too daunting to approach for now.
It didn’t take you long to get to the park. In fact, it was such a short walk that it bemused you. A population of 600 people seemed larger on paper than it was in reality. Most of the town was behind you, granted, but the uncanniness was uplifting, in a way.
It didn’t feel claustrophobic. The trees in the park were closer together than some of the buildings outside it, and they smelled so good that it knocked you back a step. The entire wild garden carried the fresh perfume of sweet and fresh vegetation, from blooming flowers scattered about and the grass underfoot, to the rustling leaves above. You couldn’t recall the last time you were in a park, let alone one that was as vibrant and alive as this one.
The pergola was easy to find. It resided in the center, right beside a large pond that you saw was filled with koi fish when you got close.
They swam to-and-fro, carefree, intermingling, playing, and searching for food.
Your stomach twisted when you made an unintentional connection in your mind. They reminded you of kites. Pretty, ultimately trapped.
The koi fish, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Not that you could understand fish language. They just went about their business calmly. It perplexed you, didn’t spending their lives in a single body of water bother them? Didn’t it make them depressed?
Could fish feel depression?
Shaking your head to rid it of the peculiar journey your mind had gone off on, you set the bag down on the table under the pergola and settled into one of the chairs, reaching to dig through your options. Of the items present, you opted to munch on a sandwich Granny had tossed in with everything else, bundled in saran wrap and clearly made by her.
While you were skeptical of pre-made food bought in a grocery store like this, one sniff had you biting into it ravenously. You were way hungrier than you thought as you devoured it, trying to will yourself to slow down enough to at least savor the taste of it. Your earlier guilt and trepidation disappeared three bites in, and you were now very much anticipating Granny’s handmade cooking if this was the kind of sandwich she was capable of creating.
You questioned again if all grannies were like this, or if you lucked out. Either way, if it meant you didn’t have to struggle with food for the time being (or ever, if Granny let you mooch off her forever), you didn’t mind getting spontaneously adopted by her at all.
About halfway through your meal, the koi fish in the pond caught your attention again. They were gorgeous animals, graceful and sleek with scales that twinkled iridescently when the sun flickered over them from between the gaps in the canopy above. They had you mesmerized, sights focused solely on them as they showed off.
Maybe they had managed to hypnotize you, because you decided to tear off a piece of the ham, rip it into tiny pieces, then throw it towards the pond. There was a large splash as all the fish rushed towards the food, making you snicker.
A sort of childish glee bloomed within you, persuading you to indulge them a smidgen longer before you finished off your food. The park seemed like a sacred place where nothing could touch you, where the lands would remain lavish and healthy, and where you could let all your worries fade away.
Arcadian – that was the best way you could describe it. Placid, halcyon, grounding, mellow. You could go on and on, really, but you–
The hairs on the back of your neck prickled when you sensed that someone, or something, was watching you. Heat grazed against your nape, slow, measured breaths right behind your ear. A kiss from a pair of soft lips that never reached your skin. A demanding presence wrapped around your figure, a prey caught in the trap laid out precisely by a steadfast and salivating predator.
Ghostly fingers slid down your shoulders, crept over your forearms, and encircled your wrists, holding them in place with a deceptively lax hold. Something firm and wide pressed against your shoulder blades, keeping you between it and the table.
Your heart kicked in your throat, preventing you from swallowing anything more than a tiny gasp.
And, like the cornered quarry you were, you shifted slowly to peek from the corner of your eye, avoiding any sudden or abrupt movements. You expected to find a beast hovering over your shoulder, eagerly anticipating your reaction.
There was nothing.
Only foliage greeted your wide-eyed inspection, expansive and untouched since you came here. The feeling of being hunted on had evaporated as soon as you checked, and though uncertain of this verdict, you chalked it up to being in totally unfamiliar territory. A result of a soundless, featherlight brush of wind, a critter in the foliage envying the fish you fed, lasting no more than a sigh.
Your brow furrowed as you searched through the plant life, seeing not even a hair out of the ordinary. That dovish sensation the park carried returned like it had never left to begin with, coaxing you to let it go and relax.
Maybe that was your cue to leave.
You shook off the lingering sensation with a shiver. Everything was okay in the wooded pasture, and as tranquil as your surroundings were, you knew you’d have to face the elephant in the room eventually.
You dusted yourself off as you got up to dislodge any lingering crumbs, carefully packed everything back into the bag, and took one final look around. This place would become your safe haven, you determined. Already, you were thinking of coming back, the memory of your adrenaline spiking fading rapidly. Imagining returning here gave you that minor push you need to fill your lungs with courage and turn to head back out the way you came.
You could explore the town later. Right now, you needed to address the state of your new stead and gauge what laid ahead of you first. Maybe it’d give you at least an idea of what you required to get started on all of this, though you doubted you’d come out of witnessing it in the full glory of the sun knowing more than you did now.
Absentmindedly, the milieu filtered into your subconscious, automatically noting small landmarks here and there to assist you in finding your way around the streets while they still confused you, until you had learned to traverse them and knew every path and alley like the back of your hand.
(Just in case, you assessed the back of your right hand. You know, to reacquaint yourself with it.)
Glumness overtook. You knew you probably wouldn’t stay here for too long, no matter how much you liked it. You could fix up the house, flip it, and head off someplace else again in pursuit of something that probably didn’t exist.
It’s always been this way for you. The same old pattern, the same old story, the neverending book that looped in on itself over and over, caught in a wormhole where the exit was the entrance.
So it was easy to convince yourself to not get attached to the valley, nor the people, nor that damn sticks-on-bricks abode. Not even the grass filled with flowers and protected by tall trees you had already found yourself longing for.
It was easier this way. This was all you knew, after all.
You had it all figured out.
Didn't you?
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#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto x reader#suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#chimera writes
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Appreciation post for:
• Wererats. Fucked up little beasties. Do they turn into people on the full moon or did they used to be people, I can’t remember and Boorman certainly never explained. Look like roadkill and sincerely want to fuck you up. Two heads for some reason. Only appear once and are dope and real animatronics and everything I’m pretty sure
• “Chloe Allagash’s brave little man”, otherwise known just as Allagash. Insults extraordinaire. Spent like. ten years in a box pretending to be his best mate and was so committed to that bit he tried to sell it to his best mate’s other best mate and daughter. Gave up his life to fight trolls and save the gang. Hates olives. Iconic
• Madmartigan, who I spent far too long convinced was actually called Martigan and nicknamed “Mad” Martigan by all his mates. Also in a box when we meet him. Tries to feed roots to a newborn. Slays in pink. Souped up on the love potion, gains himself an enemies to lovers arc with the hot badass warrior queen
• Sorsha Tanthalos, said hot badass warrior, redemption arc speedrun, kiss in the middle of battle pro, stop listening to your evil mom and make your own choices queen. Pissed off that the dorky hot rogue confessed his undying love to her and it was just love potion. “‘I dwell in darkness without you’ and it went away???” Go off queen. You can fix that never fear. Dopest sword ever but also that would be so so sucky to get stabbed with because fuck that is a lot of serrations. Is it all that functional? Don’t know but it looks awesome. 10/10. Goes straight from being henchman to her evil mom to trying to run a whole kingdom, raise three kids and keep one of them from dying to fulfil the prophesy. Makes some dodgy decisions. Complains about it all to her (literal) captive audience. Saves her daughters life. Complicated queen
• Sorsha x Madmartigan. Enemies to lovers classic with all the fun twists. “Love her?!? I don’t love her! She kicked me in the face!” Oh you just wait buddy. Couple affirming kiss mid battle??? Oh fuck yeah, sign me the fuck up. “I dwell in darkness without you.” Wait. Was that foreshadowing
• Jade and Elora being besties. Unexpected and delightful. Elora calling her “J” nearly made me hit the cieling. You’re telling me they’ve got nicknames already??? Sign me the fuck up. I love it. Need more of it pls and thank you
• Lili of Cashmere. On the wyrms milk. Dresses like a Greek goddess. Known by the alias “the Crone” which she hates even tho she really is secretly a skeleton held together with goo and a love of drama (I’m reusing that description ok I enjoyed it too much the first time). Evil makeover specialist. A+ Lili I love you
• And last but not least, smart and sassy trolls. @lowkeyed1 is a lifesaver and provided me with the transcript for the episode bc I remembered they had some truly iconic lines but couldn’t for the life of me remember what they were. So we’ve got: “He’s not appealing, but he speaks his mind, and I suppose that’s something” of Sarris’s own brother. Of the Crone: “Is she the eldritch nightmare people make her out to be? Yes. But she has her positive qualities too.” Lol fair. The forever iconic “I deplore those who rouse rabble” and my personal favourite “yeah, cos when I said ‘I do’, what I really meant was ‘explain it to me like I’m an imbecile’.”
#willow 2022#appreciation post for things people said could stand to be mentioned more#as per the post asking#:D#series appreciation
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Phantom Grin
Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam
Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?
Chapters: 8/?
Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain
Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character
Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along
Chapter Eight: EMDR
Bruce found Jason in the cave with Tim, sparring. "Jason, you have an appointment with the—." Jason took a hit to the chest before knocking Tim off his feet. "Jason, you have—."
"I know... I'll be ready in ten," Jason interrupted. He didn't like going to therapy. Remembering was almost always upsetting, and talking about things was even worse. He knew it worked, but the process itself was exhausting. He rolled his shoulders back and patted the sweat from his brow. "Sorry, Tim... See you later?" Jason asked.
It'd been nearly six months since he'd met Tim, and they'd grown close. It was nice to talk to someone about average things like school and girls. When they both had free time, Jason would spend the night at Tim's house and watch movies.
Tim nodded, and they bumped fists. "If I don't get grounded before tomorrow night, yeah. I'll see you," Tim joked. Jason chuckled and waved as he went back upstairs to his room.
He showered and dressed for therapy, taking the time to look himself over in the mirror and dry his hair. His hair passed his shoulders, and he often pulled it into a long, low ponytail. He wasn't sure how he'd look if he cut it. He noticed bits of grey peeking out of the front of his hair, and he sighed. Sometimes his appearance seemed unreal, still, after all that time. Jason forced himself to smile before exiting his bathroom, and he ran into Cassandra. "W- what—?"
"Have a good day," she whispered. Cassandra knew how drained he felt after therapy. Most of the time, he'd lock himself in his room, and other times he'd come home feeling as if he were someone else. Jason stood still for a moment, wordlessly, before mustering up the courage to hug her. Cassandra didn't mind the hugs, but Jason worried that he burdened her with his feelings.
"Tell Barbara I said hi," Jason replied. He made his way down the stairs and met Bruce at the car. Bruce leaned against the hood with a smile on his face. "What?"
"If you want, you can get your license before your eighteenth—. What's that face?" Bruce asked after Jason started to frown.
"The 'e' word," Jason mumbled as he got in the car and turned his face towards the window.
"Right... You're going to be fine. Your childhood isn't over, you know? Cassie turned eighteen this year, and that meant nothing to her—."
"Yeah, but she was conscious during the whole aging process. I woke up taller, my hair's different, my voice, my life was completely missing, and on top of that, I'm gonna be eighteen soon," Jason complained, "It just—. It sucks, Dad."
"It does suck," Bruce whispered, and Jason smiled. "What?"
"I just wanted you to admit it," Jason grinned, "You don't have to be so positive all the time. It drives me nuts."
"Would you like me to tell you what sucks?" asked Bruce.
Jason laughed. "Yeah, go for it," he answered.
"Waiting rooms. Waiting rooms suck," Bruce replied, and they both laughed. "And the way people say, 'get well soon,' like you have a stomach bug or something."
"Oh, I hate that! 'Get well soon.' Fuck off," Jason blurted out. He gasped and covered his mouth. Bruce let out a giggle that built into a laugh so hard that he cried.
"Fuck off," Bruce repeated before taking a deep breath. "Oh, that's good... I feel like I can finally breathe with you."
Jason softened and looked at Bruce. "I'm glad. That's all I want from you. Loosen up, laugh, cry, curse... It helps," Jason whispered, "I'm not fragile. I swear." As they parked in the lot, they sat still for a moment. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, Jason," Bruce whispered. It was the first time Jason ever said he loved Bruce. Jason led Bruce to the office, and they signed in and sat, staring at the fish tank on the wall.
"See the blue one? Iggy? That's the fifth Iggy they've had since I've been here," Jason whispered. Bruce held back a laugh. "Finding Nemo, the darkest timeline."
Bruce chuckled and nudged him. "Cut it out," Bruce smiled, "Jason, are you nervous?"
Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Uh-huh... It's what I gotta do," Jason mumbled, "I only need like eight more sessions before I'm done, though." Jason shut his eyes and leaned his head back.
The doctor called Jason's name. They had a conversation about their stop signal and Jason's past history, and the doctor asked, "When you hold that image of Willis raising a hand to you, are there any negative beliefs you have about yourself? No feelings, just 'I am' or 'I am not...' statements."
Jason readjusted in the easy chair. "I'm a burden," Jason whispered.
"Is there a positive belief that you would like to have about yourself in the place of that? What would you like to believe about yourself?" she asked.
"That I'm wanted... Maybe even needed," Jason replied.
"Okay... Jason, if you were to hold that image of Willis in your head and say to yourself, 'I am wanted, maybe even needed,' how true would that feel on a scale of one-to-seven? One is completely false, and seven is true... What's your gut feeling?" she questioned.
"Uh... I don't know. Three maybe... Shit, I'm not-. One if we're being honest," Jason answered as he pulled a curl loose from his ponytail.
"That's alright, Jason... When you hold that image of Willis and say to yourself, 'I am a burden,' what do you feel right now?" she asked.
"I feel unsafe, edgy," Jason whispered as he bounced his legs.
"Where do you feel that in your body?" she questioned.
Jason took a deep breath and pulled himself together. "My stomach... And my shoulders... And in my head like I'm—. Like I feel dizzy," Jason whispered.
"Remember Jason, we can stop anytime that you want to," she whispered.
"No, I don't want to stop... I can handle it," Jason replied. He swallowed hard.
"How strong are those feelings on a scale of one to seven?" she questioned.
"I dunno, maybe a seven. I don't like to talk about him," Jason mumbled. He couldn't look her in the eye.
"I need you to take the edginess and the unsafe feeling of being a burden, and I'm going to ask you to carry that along with the image of Willis raising a hand to you," she whispered as she tested the speed of her hand movements as she waved them back and forth. "Can you follow my fingers? Or do you need—."
"No, it's fine," Jason whispered as he followed her fingers with his eyes. He thought about Willis raising a hand to hit him, and it felt as if he were there at that moment. She stopped suddenly, and he took a deep breath in.
"What came up for you?" she asked. Jason closed his eyes and let his hair down.
He took a moment to catch his breath. "Pins and needles. I feel like I'm there and I—. I need a minute. Can I get something to drink?" Jason asked. He hated feeling panicked, but he couldn't help it. She said it was a normal part of the process.
Somatic symptoms, that's what she called them. Jason wasn't really paying attention when she explained it, but he knew that's what he felt. He could recall how it felt because that's how he felt every time he focused too long on the thought. "You can take—." Jason got up before she could finish speaking, and he stepped out into the hallway to get a drink of water.
It took him several minutes to go back, and when he did, he sat for the rest of his hour going through the process. When he was done, he met Bruce in the waiting room. "You alright?" Bruce asked. Jason embraced him. "I've got you... You wanna go get curly fries?"
"Waffle fries... With chili," Jason mumbled into Bruce's shoulder. Bruce chuckled.
#fic#phantom grin fic#batfam#Jason Todd#Bruce Wayne#Dick Grayson#Alfred Pennyworth#Barbara Gordon#Tim Drake#Cassandra Cain#Jason Todd/Original Character#Canon Divergent AU#Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain#Jason Todd is Disabled#Barbara Gordon is Oracle#Resurrected Jason Todd#Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating#Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along
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To Build a Home
deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!reader
summary: The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit.
notes: hello :'))) i am back from the dead. i can not apologize enough for the three year hiatus. i went through some family stuff, some mental breakdowns, and also just life in general made me not want to write anymore. but all the messages and comments I've gotten throughout the years have been so heart warming and touching. your words of support have genuinely made me want to get back into this again, so thank you thank you thank you. all your likes, comments and shares really kept me going, sometimes I felt like I was writing into the void, but knowing that others read and enjoyed my story was a very validating and heartwarming feeling. again, I am SOOO sorry for the extremely late update, but if you are still around, I hope you will enjoy this next chapter! i love you all <3
P.S if you prefer AO3 viewing, it will be linked in my Series Masterlist :)
word count: 4.3k
Series Masterlist
One l Two l Three l Four l Five l coming soon...
Chapter Five
//
The bed is warm when you wake up, but you can not move.
“If you try to get up, I will incarcerous your ass.”
The air smells bitter and burnt, and it makes you want to gag at how strong it weighs in the air. Blinking past the candlelights, you find Jean sitting in a chair next to your bed.
Groaning, you try and curl your fingers, but you find yourself unable to. Not even needing to look down, you could feel the thick bandages wrapped around your whole chest and the entire length of your left arm.
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” you grumble, voice feeling raw and dry in your throat. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
“What did I do to you?”
“I can’t fucking move!”
“I bloody well put you back together in one piece!” Jean snapped and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much anger in your friend’s eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed, and you’re complaining about a couple of bandages?!”
“A couple is enough to render me completely useless?!”
“You’re not useless.” Jean rolls her eyes. “You’re just forced into recuperation.”
“Well, it’d be fucking nice if I could at least scratch my nose.” You scrunch your nose unpleasantly.
“Your right arm still works, you know.”
“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”
Jean sighs deeply and goes back to focusing on something on your night table. Feeling awkward, you stretch out your right arm the best you can and reach up to scratch the itch on the bridge of your nose.
“What’s that?” You point at the stack of small withered leather pouches and tiny vials of potions.
She lets out a grunt of frustration. “It’s your medicine. You lost so much blood, I thought you turned into a bloody ghost.”
“Well, blame that on—”
“It’s both of your faults,” Jean cuts you off with a sharp glare. “Don’t go blaming Seungcheol when you put him in an equally bad position.”
You can’t help but smirk at the news. “He strapped down onto his bed just like me?”
Glass bottles click and clatter as Jean slams down your medicine. “Wake up! This was all meant for training, not to cut each other’s throats and bleed each other dry.”
Rolling your eyes, you turn away to avoid her glare. “Did you give him the same lecture?”
“I’m serious, can’t you just listen to me?”
“It’d be nice to not, but I don’t think I have a choice.”
She scoffs. “We’re not at school anymore. There’s no more petty house rivalry, no house points to fight over, or exams to stress over. We’re on the same side of the war, we can’t keep fighting with the boys.”
“Don’t be a fool.” You snap back at her with furrowed brows. “You want me to trust these boys? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one—”
A click— the door opens and Wonwoo walks in as if he were coming in like routine.
“Ah,” he says in quiet surprise. “You’re up?”
A brow quirks. “What are you doing in my room?”
Jean clicks her tongue and goes back to refilling your medication.
He holds up an amber glass bottle. “To heal you back into a functioning human.”
You place your good arm under the back of your head and prop yourself up a little to get a better view of your two housemates.
“Jean’s already got my medicine here.” You nod over to the glass vials on your night table.
“Yes, but this one—” Wonwoo holds it closer to your face, the clear glass has no label but contains a sticky, thick liquid. “—is for those cuts that Seungcheol gave you.”
“Of course,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Even the cuts he gave me aren’t ordinary. I need a special potion just for that?”
Wonwoo takes a seat at the end of your bed. “You lost a lot of blood.”
“A lot.” Jean glowers.
“Stop worrying,” you chide. “I feel fine!” You cough, embarrassingly, your throat still raw and dry.
“Fine my fucking arse,” Jean curses, and you know she’s truly mad because when was the last time your friend has ever cursed? “Fine isn’t being completely incapacitated for days. I had no idea when you would even wake up.”
“Wait a sec—” Your forehead wrinkles as your face contorts into confusion. “How long have I been out?”
“Only three days,” Wonwoo sighs, and uncorks the bottle in his hand. “He’s just as immobile as you, thought you’d be interested to know.”
“That is good to know.” You can’t help the grin spreading on your face. Jean’s scowl only deepens.
A cup is conjured out of thin air, and Wonwoo pours some of the amber liquid into it. “This is going to be hard to swallow, but drink the whole thing, okay?” He hands you the cup.
It looks even darker in the cup and moves like molasses. “And what is this supposed to help with? All the blood that I lost?”
“It’s to make sure your wounds heal completely,” Jeans explains. “Unfortunately… you won’t be able to get rid of the scars, but at least they’ll be completely closed.”
“That spell he used on you…” Wonwoo says quietly, his face looking serious as he tries to word it properly in his head before saying it out loud. “It’s— it’s not a spell to take lightly. Obviously, it would have been best to use the counterspell right after you got hit, but you continued fighting—”
“Absolute blockheads, the both of you!”
“— and the lacerations only went deeper and deeper as they spread. It’ll take a few days of rest before you’re fully healed, but just hold your nose when you take the potion because it—”
“Tastes like fucking shit!” You gag.
“— tastes pretty awful…”
//
Mandatory bed rest for the rest of the week.
Those were the orders from apparently everyone else in the house. Sneaking out was not an option because there was a spell that made the entire house ring when you tried to sneak out. It was equally both embarrassing and frustrating, seeing as how you couldn’t even take a piss without having Jean come over to help you over to the bathroom.
The only good thing about being imprisoned inside your own room was Wonwoo’s cup of tea.
He brought you a cup of tea every morning. Earl grey. Always piping hot, and with just enough cream and sugar to make anyone else’s tongue curl from the sweetness.
It was the perfect cup of tea.
The damn snake was slowly creeping his way up your ladder that goes from enemies to acquaintances to just barely being friends. He was still low on the ladder though, just marginally above the other snakes.
But the cup of tea did nothing to make you feel any better. Any less useless.
The wounds have healed completely when you finished up the rest of the amber liquid, and the bandages were finally all released with permission from Wonwoo and Jean, but no one allowed you back into another round of dueling. Not yet at least. They all said it's because you needed more time to get better, but you knew it was because they all thought you weren’t mentally stable enough to go back.
“You almost died!” You remember wincing in pain when Jean readjusted your bandages.
No matter how many times you insisted that you were feeling better and thinking more clearly, she stayed firm in her decision.
“Not. Yet.”
You can only hope that the same was happening to Seungcheol.
//
Minghao sips on his glass and the candlelight illuminates the grimace on his face. “This is not what I meant when I said they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other.”
“I was hoping they’d just fuck each other’s brains out,” Mingyu shrugs. “But I guess this is another way of them taking their anger out on each other.”
“How could you joke like that when they both nearly died?” Trinh scowls, smacking the back of his head for the comment.
“Hey!” Mingyu rubs his head with a groan. “You think I wanted that to happen? I nearly shit myself when I saw the amount of blood in here!” He shudders dramatically. “But they’re both healed now, yeah?”
“Doesn’t make the situation any better.” Trinh tiredly rubs her eyes. “We can never pair them up again for training. I refuse to clean up that much blood again.”
“The reality is,” Minghao sighs, reaching over to pet her hair. “They fucking hate each other. I’m sure they’ll find another excuse to get into another bloody fight.”
“As much as I hated the fight as well, I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” Mingyu sighs. “This was a fight years in the making. We put those two together without any supervision of the professors, and what did we expect? Sunshine and chocolate frogs?”
“Their fighting in Hogwarts was child’s play compared to this,” Trinh groans, looking more tired by the second.
She shifts in her chair just enough for her to lean her head on Minghao’s shoulder, and he suddenly laughs. “Remember that time he spiked her ale with some babbling beverage right before potions class?”
A light chuckle comes from Mingyu. “Or that time she used locomotor mortis right before he leaned in for his first kiss with that Gryffindor girl and he fell right into her breasts?”
Minghao throws his head back with a loud snort. “Then there was that brilliant prank where he charmed her quill to write everything backwards during our O.W.L.S!”
“See? I’m telling you, they just need to fuck.” Mingyu lays his finger on the table to make his point. “They’ve already beat each other bloody.”
Minghao’s laughter slowly fades until his smile is no more, and reaches for his glass again. “Yeah, but he’s not the same boy as before.” He takes a final swig and downs the whole drink. “He’s changed.”
“We’ve all changed.”
Their heads all snap up to see Wonwoo standing at the end of their table. Minghao grimaces, and all traces of laughter have disappeared from his face. Looking forlornly into his half-empty glass, Mingyu stays silent as well.
“Done drinking for tonight?” He asks the trio, looking just as solemn as his crew of snakes.
Trinh throws her head back to finish hers and slams it back on the table. “Now I am.”
Mingyu holds up an empty glass for Wonwoo in offerance. “How are they doing? Still, being stubborn?
Wonwoo declines with a shake of his head and sits down to join them. “I don’t know what I expected from either of them,” he sighs. “She’s still fighting tooth and nail to get out of the room, and Seungcheol’s… well, you know how he gets when he’s moody.”
“Got the temper of a five-year-old.” Trinh shakes her head.
“But thankfully the medications are working well,” Wonwoo continues. “Wounds are pretty much all healed. I still think they need more time to mentally recover from their fight.”
“I’ve got high hopes for the Princess, but Seungcheol? Like that stubborn dickhead has any space in his thick skull to even comprehend how to do that.”
“Mingyu.” Wonwoo places a firm grip on his shoulder. “We’ve got to do something. He can’t keep going on like this, he’s only going to get worse.”
“Well, what do you suggest then?” Mingyu snaps. “Like he’ll listen to any of us.
Minghao’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid the only way he’ll get any better is if he is dead, my friend.”
//
Days and weeks flew by in the cottage and the house was slowly coming into action once again. Mingyu and Jean were still flirting around in every room, Trinh could be found giggling away with Minghao whilst pretending to not care about anyone else.
And yet, you haven’t exchanged a single word with Seungcheol. It was harder than you expected, pretending like someone doesn’t exist under the same roof as you, but you were determined to see past him like a ghost. Unsurprisingly, he had shown you the same courtesy. Seungcheol even ate his meals alone in his room or in the room down in the basement.
Walking around the house post near-death-fight was an even bigger pain than before. There was an unspoken mutual agreement between the two of you, and that was to be completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Although the entire household was pushing for the both of you to make amends, it was clear that they have all underestimated both your stubbornness. You bet you could go months, maybe even years, pretending like Seungcheol didn’t exist within the same home as you.
While the lack of contact with the miserable imp was nice, the tension still weighed heavy in the air, and you knew it was beginning to suffocate the others as well. But as much as you felt bad for your housemates, they were the ones who forced you into this whole situation in the first place.
And so, he continued to act as if you were nothing but an echo in the hallways. He didn’t even sneer or frown, or show any physical signs of threats or discomfort. He simply acted as if you didn’t exist.
And you were fine with that.
Until, well, everyone else wasn’t.
//
The night hung heavy, and the moon cast a haunting glow on the house as you readied for sleep. You were seconds away from slipping under your covers when a timid knock echoed from your door. Wearily, you trudged over to answer, revealing a Wonwoo poised to knock again.
“Wonwoo?”
“Hi.”
“Can I help you?”
Wonwoo’s arms fall to his sides, his body rigid and expression wavering with hesitance. It was clear from his eyes that he was unsure of his presence at your door, especially at this late hour.
The past few weeks have admittedly been easier with the help of Wonwoo’s presence. He took care of you in little ways that you did not expect. He brought medicine with a cup of hot tea on the side for you every day. He would accompany you in silent book readings in the common room, discreetly sitting across from you in your favorite armchair to keep you company. And whenever you felt yourself about to be overcome with anxiety, somehow, almost miraculously, Wonwoo would appear to chase that sinking feeling of fear in your chest away.
Most times, he would ask if you’d like to accompany him in some tasks, like baking muffins for breakfast the next day, or flying on the broomsticks to help clean up the roof, or even picking flowers outside to make bouquets around the cottage.
Other times, he would make you a cup of tea and simply just sit by your side. He would make small talk if you felt like talking, but if you didn’t, he would just sit in silence with you. Sometimes, you would sit in silence for so long that your tea would grow cold, but by the time you noticed, Wonwoo had already gotten up to make you a fresh cup of tea to replace the cold one in your hands.
He had such a keen sense of your anxieties, you wondered if it was because he had the same fears as you.
A heavy sigh escapes you, heart feeling pity for the boy who has diligently stayed by your side everyday since the duel. “What is it?” Your voice is soft, speaking low to not be heard by others. “I was just about to go to sleep.”
“Oh— I’ll come back another night then—”
“Nonsense. Come inside.”
“I… I don’t want to take up too much of your time…”
“You spent the past three weeks putting me back together. You are allowed some of my time.”
He still seems hesitant. A jitteriness that was now making you nervous.
“What is it?” You ask in a tense whisper. “Did you get any news? Has someone else—”
“No! No, not at all,” He waves his hands quickly, immediately banishing the thought of losing yet another classmate. “I just— well, I’m not sure if this may come as a shock to you, but you must know that your fight with Seungcheol is making everyone else in the house deeply uncomfortable—”
You let out a deep sigh of relief. “Is this what you came in the middle of the night for?” Turning your back on him, you wave your hand back, motioning for him to leave your room. “Go to bed, Wonwoo.”
He grabs your left hand, making you halt in your tracks. Turning to face him, you saw the strain etched into his expression. His other hand pauses for a second before reaching over to pull up your sleeve. “Look at what's happened to you.”
Your hand whips out of his and you bring the sleeve down in a defensive rage. “What are you here for, Wonwoo?” You demand this time.
He gathers in a shaky breath as if he were afraid to speak another word out loud. “Have you ever heard of that spell?” His voice drops to a whisper, making sure that you are the only one that can hear him. “That was dark magic, nothing like what we were ever taught in school. Who do you think taught him that spell?”
“You think I care where you learned all your demented spells from?”
“Well you should! I know there’s been a difficult history between our houses, but we’re all here together now. We’re all classmates here, why can’t you just—”
“Just what? Want me to pretend like everythings okay? Like the outside world isn’t burning up all around us? Want me to forget what he’s done to me?”
“I’m not asking for you to forgive him or any of us, but I am asking you to just… accept the situation that we’re all in. Whether you like it or not, we are on the same side now.”
“Acceptance doesn’t come that easily, it’s something to be earned.”
His face falls. “Haven’t I?” Wonwoo’s eyes turn soft, yearning and desperate. “I was hoping that— that at least I am…”
Your heart clenches with guilt. “No… you’re right.” Shaking your head, you reach over to grab his hands in yours. “You’ve— you’ve been a great friend to me the past few weeks, and I can’t ever deny that, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
His shoulders relax, and he gently returns your grasp. Giving him a faint smile, you guide him into your room as he quietly closes the door behind him. Taking a seat together on your bed, facing each other, a sense of solemnity settles between you.
“This situation in the house…” Wonwoo’s voice is still cautious. “I felt like I needed to come to you, and tell you… if you and Seungcheol continue on this way, it will break us all apart.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“People are starting to walk on eggshells around here, and it’s because of you two.”
“Did you give him the same talk, or are you just lecturing me?” You snap, unable to hold down your annoyance at how everyone’s been treating you since the duel. That loathsome fuck was the one who almost killed you, and yet everyone’s coming to you to try and make amends?
“Oh, trust me,” Wonwoo almost chuckles. “He’s getting lectured by both Mingyu and Hao. You got the lucky end of the stick.”
You bit back a smile at that.
“But you know it’s true. We have to split up with dueling practice, we don’t gather anymore to hear Jun’s nightly news, and we just eat our meals separately now. There needs to be some unity between us in order for us to work together.”
A bitter laugh escapes you. “Since when did you become so pragmatic?”
“I’ve always been,” he responds in exasperation. “I might be friends with those idiots, but don’t lump me in with their antics.”
“You’ve revealed your true self to me six years too late,” You say wryly.
Wonwoo reaches over to grasp your hands again. “I know, and that’s exactly why I refuse to let this chance slip away.” His look is so serious, your smile drops. “Besides, haven’t you ever noticed? I was always the one to pull the boys out of the fights.”
You pause, genuinely considering his words. “I can’t say I have.”
Wonwoo scoffs lightly. “Course not. Your attention was always elsewhere.”
“Like where?” You raise a brow.
“You know where,” he raises a brow back at you. “But now your attention is needed here. I came here because I need you to understand.”
“Understand what, Wonwoo.” Frustration starts to build. “That we’re all in this together now? That we aren’t enemies anymore because we’re fighting on the same side? I get it,” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I still hate the bloody ass, but we’re stuck in this damned house for the same reason.”
The corner of his lips quirk up. “Glad to see that you’re not in denial anymore, but it’s important you know why we ran away in the first place.”
“Because your malevolent Dark Lord is out there murdering people left and right?”
“You’re not wrong,” he says, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say that even his most devoted followers feared him. It might have seemed like we were just taking Dark Magic lessons from the Death Eaters, but we were prisoners there. We— we were taught all these different ways to torture, sometimes even forced—”
Your face contorts in confusion, a sick feeling starting to settle in your stomach. “Have you ever…”
“Never.” He shuts you down before you could finish your question. “But… we came close a few times.”
Your hands draw away from his as a chill runs down your spine. Wonwoo looks ashamed, his hands clenched into fists.
“They trained us to be like them. They wanted us to just be another soldier. They taught us how to fight, how to torture, how to kill. They tried to poison our minds.”
A familiar panic starts to fill in his eyes, and guilt washes over you. The fear you’ve developed since running away from the Death Eaters was nothing in comparison to what he went through. How could anyone come out of that normal?
“They made us watch every night. We watched every single muggle, muggle-born or “traitor” be tortured until death. The Death Eaters were creative for sure, I watched some of their bodies be twisted in ways they shouldn’t and others lose their sanity. And on nights where the Eaters had a bit too much to drink, they would make us test the curses out on each other.”
A silence falls on your face, horror-stricken.
“One night… I saw him, Seokmin’s father. I recognized him from the platform before boarding the train. Seokmin looked just like him, the same eyes and smile… I had no idea he was a Muggle. I tried to help him escape.”
Your hands finds his again, gripping his fingers, apologetic for pulling away in the first place. The panic slowly rising in Wonwoo’s eyes.
“I had no idea he was a muggle,” he repeats, the pained look in his eyes begging you to believe him. “I thought we were almost out, but I got caught. Cicero— he was the one who caught me.”
His fingers felt cold in your hands.
“That was the last time I saw his father,” he murmurs. “And Cicero took me away.”
He pulls one hand up to his buttons on his shirt, a slight tremble as he starts to undo them. “Right here,” he guides one of your hands up to the center of his chest. “Is where I have the same scars as you.”
Your heart shatters at the revelation.
He laughs bitterly as you trail your fingers down his disfigured skin. “We all have them. Mingyu has them on his chest as well. Minghao is growing his hair longer to hide the ones on his back, and Seungcheol…” he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never knew… I never imagined… the things you’ve been through,” your words fracture, not knowing what to say.
He’s back to smiling, a maddening reassurance you know he’s trying to give you despite the panic still in his eyes.
“Jean and I may have mended you back together, but Seungcheol cast the counterspell. He’s the one that saved you.”
“Seungcheol? But he’s the one who—”
“I know,” he nods. “He’s the one who used it on you in the first place, but when you were bleeding out in the common room, shirt torn apart and lifeless, it woke something back up in him.”
You shook your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to believe him, but there was a quiet stirring in your head.
“He was the Dark Lord’s favorite. He trained the most out of all of us, the Dark Lord wanted to use him for his plans, and after months and months of enduring his training… he just couldn’t take it anymore.”
Tears start welling up in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. “Something inside him… just snapped.” A tear falls from his face. “He didn’t want to kill the headmaster, but he had no choice. He had to. My closest friend is broken now because of it, and— and I don’t know how to fix him.”
Your chest crumples at the sight before you.
“He’s made the Unbreakable Vow.” Wonwoo reveals. “I needed you to understand. He just wanted to live.”
#scoups scenarios#seungcheol scenarios#seventeen scenarios#seventeen#scoups fic#seungcheol fic#harry potter au#seventeen x harry potter#seventeen harry potter au#seventeen x reader#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader
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🫧 ━━ JOHNNY UTAH X CHUBBY F READER IMAGINE𓈒
𓈒part II
𓈒tw: utah being a little shit
𓈒based on @tedsbogusworld’s 🤖
━━ in the morning, bodhi reams you out for embarrassing him
━━ he says that calling him a “spoiled little bitch momma’s boy who still pisses the bed” was just taking it too far
━━ you have to admit, that might have been overkill
━━ as usual, you’re fighting.
━━ you can remember a time where the two of you were thick as thieves, buddies, friends
━━ you can remember a time he used to defend you from bullies rather than join in on their ridicule
━━ you go to work with tears in your eyes, but you’re only crying because you can’t punch something
you like the aquarium. honestly, you could spend your whole life working here if it paid more than minimum wage.
your favorite duty, by far, is manning the touch tank and getting to see the excitement that ripples through children and adults alike as they slip their fingers over the smooth, sticky manta rays and get their hands abducted by the resident octopus.
you’re glad that you’re doing this today, especially after the nasty dispute with your once loving, protective brother.
however, the good mood isn’t meant to last.
bodhi’s friend, liz, is here. the new guy is hanging off her arm. it looks like they’re on a date, and you really don’t want to deal with being perceived, so you excuse yourself and duck into a nearby gift shop to regain composure.
it’s stupid, that you’ve become so afraid of bodhi’s in-crowd. You pride yourself on being brave—or at least you used to. swimming out past where you could touch, exploring for snakes and bugs, looking for sharks in the tides, riding the tallest drop rides at six flags.
you understand what the metaphor ‘a shell of what I once was’ means all too well. it’s just…they’re so goddamn mean. teasing you, calling you names when they think you’re not listening, playing stupid pranks that they know will get an explosive reaction.
and no matter how many pounds of pressure you tried to put behind your bite, it just seemed to always get worse. so now, you avoid them at all costs. and bodhi, too.
you peruse around the little gift shop, feeling the plushies and thumbing through the rainbow clusters of keychains. hoping they’ll be gone by the time you make it back out on the floor.
no such luck—in fact, lady luck herself seems to have some personal vendetta against you on this sunny day. you hit solid chest on your way outside of the gift shop, and look up to start an apology. that embarrassed look on your face transforms into a scowl when it turns out that—Jesus, what’s his name?—is smiling down at you. and it’s not a pleasant smile.
liz’s voice could cut diamonds, awful and grating as it is. “oh, hey, cutie. we were just looking for you. Johnny wants to meet your friends.”
“great, he can introduce himself.” walking away is the best decision right now. it usually is when it comes to assholes, but a wide hand circles the entire upper half of your arm to halt you. and your arm is not small, so, yeah, you're a little bit intimidated. will you admit it? hello no.
you swivel and face him like he’s not a foot taller than you and probably able to at least beat you in an arm wrestling match if nothing else, glare sharpened into a knife that you hope cuts deeper than it seems to; he looks humored.
“let me go.”
he stays silent and grinning, liz’s perfect henchman, and it inspires seething rage. the kind of fury that makes you forget you’re at work, has your vision turning black around the edges. “john.” of course, now that he’s pissing you off again you remember his name, because that’s all he’s done since you first met—make you angry. “your balls are in grave danger if you don’t get the fuck off me.”
“just johnny’s fine,” he tells you, tugging you closer instead of letting you go and heeding your threat.
you grab his wrist to try and pry him off, because fuck if you’re gonna let some city boy manhandle you around in your own territory at liz’s bitchy discretion, but queen insufferable herself cuts the tension with her sharp voice. “y/n’s in school to be a marine biologist,” she tells johnny, who’s too busy focused on tormenting you to pay attention to her. “isn’t that cute? still hanging on to those childish dreams.”
“oh, shut the hell up, liz, at least I’m trying to make something of my life instead of whoring around south bay and surfing.”
neither of them look phased. It makes you feel small, insignificant, stupid, humiliated, all of those nasty adjectives that you just can’t seem to get away from in daily life. maybe you would actually risk your job and hit liz—because you know she’d have to notice a fist—but johnny has both your arm and wrist trapped now, and his grip is not kind enough to permit escape.
liz looks bored. “so, come on, y/n, introduce us to your ocean friends.”
you glower at johnny, who still has most annoyingly and frustratingly not taken his eyes off you. “can’t do that unless you tell boris, here, to let me the fuck go.”
liz gives the command and her dog listens well. you briefly consider running, but after a once over of his long distal limbs, you know you wouldn’t get very far on the stubs you call legs without him catching up. ever defeated, you take them to the touch tank, waiting for a space to open.
liz’s entitlement makes a surprise appearance, of course, and she taps a sunburned family on the shoulder. “excuse me, we work here. just gotta get through.”
“no, we don’t work here,” you tell the confused father, “i work here, and take your time.” you shoot liz a glare. “we can be patient.”
“jeez,” liz sighs, although you win this round, and only after the family in front steps away do you lead them up to lean elbows over the rippling artificial tide pool, glowing with sea foam backlight, filled with pretty black mantas gliding along the sides and little crabs fighting under seaweed and tiny fish flitting about.
“put your hand in,” you tell johnny, motioning to the water. “this is what you came for, right? scared of fish, johnathan?”
he chuckles at you and shakes his head. “do they bite?”
what a pussy. “dunno, why don’t you ask the giggling toddlers over there forearm deep?”
was something you said funny? are you just a natural comedian? should you go into stand up comedy instead of marine biology? all these things you wonder while his lazy, devil may care grin widens.
his hand goes in, slowly, and god bless harold’s tiny three hearts, he crawls right up to the newcomer curiously.
johnny looks nervous while the little blue guy explores his hand. you chuckle, trying to be mean but actually finding it a smidge cute—okay, the octopus is cute. NOT johnny and his novel trepidation. nope. this man is not cute. he’s a fucking asshole.
harold wraps around his fingers, squeezes and grips between the digits, slides a tendril over his wrists and holds gently, saying hello. once you’re sure johnny’s trapped, you pat him on the back. “good luck, think he likes you.” then, you walk away.
“hey, he won’t let me go!” johnny calls after you, and you relish in that frustrated tone. feels good to win, yeah it does.
“he will by closing,” you say, not bothering to turn around, but also, and to your credit, not adding ‘asshole’ to the end of that sentence.
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Just had the coolest longest dream about asking Phil Eleverum (who in my dream was a quiet and vague but constant presence, like an invisible fog) "why are we so obsessed with making art about death?", and him answering by silently taking me and my partner in a trip à la Dante's Inferno into the different landscapes of minds which were all abstract, surrealist amalgams of urban and natural, life and death, light and shadow, color and concept. And then my partner and I went home and smoked not one but two of the fattest blunts my subconscious could come up with. It is the most vivid dream I've had in months. I am incredibly pleased.
#i need to make a painting based on the few glimpses of the planes i can remember that shit whipped#one was this long swirling path of black nothingness which sometimes molded into the silhouette of pine trees#and sloped upwards like a mountainpath would#it was pockmarked with small points of glowing red-orange-y warm light that looked so dense it was like a million molten lava galaxies#there were other people there - and a pervasive feeling of clarity and solidarity and fear and warmth#it all meant something but fuck if i remember what#anyway. kickass. i haven't had many cool dreams since summer. nature is healing#nick.txt#mount eerie#drug use cw
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things from The Halloween Update that are concerning me more than i already am about Eddie:
his Frankenstein's Monster costume turning his face (and hands. ha, hands, like the hands on a-) half yellow half blue/purple like the clocks & Sally's door. that's fucking me up a little ngl
Eddie tacks "A bit of a moral conundrum-" onto his description of Frankenstein's Monster, who he's costumed as. which seems out of place with the rest of his description. he could've said "bolts" or "white streak in his hair" or another physical trait. nope. Moral Conundrum (one could also describe his costume as "two-faced"...). and the fact that he's dressed specifically as someone who was "brought back from the dead" makes me 👁️👁️. kinda reminds me of a certain set of artworks from Clown's tumblr a while back...
Eddie, despite his whole schtick being "bad memory", was the only one to accurately recognize Sally's costume as pedrolino from the Commedia dell'arte. could be a little 'inside joke', might be something else. i suspect it's something else due to his... ah... Everything.
#yk im starting to wonder if eddie's meant to have a naturally bad memory#or if something is purposefully fucking with em more than with anyone else#bc he seems to have these little moments where hes On Top Of It#kinda like moments of lucidity almost? hm....#eddie dear what have you seen? why are you Singled Out?#the wrist watch / his eyelashes matching home's (whatever the rounded things under the sills are)#his halloween costume / his memory problems / the fucking tiny secrets sprinkled all over his post office / his color being purple#hi eddie how does it feel to have main character syndrome#jesting! kinda#eddison edward eduardo edmund edgar edwin edmundo. what the hell is your deal im dying to know#wh speculation#welcome home speculation#homebogging#i wonder. i. wonder...#if eddie got Caught by whatever is out there at night#maybe he didnt know to stay in doors. maybe he realized he forgot to deliver something and thought 'better late than never'#maybe the town mailman is too important to simply Remove so he had to be dealt with a different way#or wait maybe someone saved him? wally perhaps? home? id(k?)#a worse memory so that he doesnt remember what happened?#a personal clock on him at all times so that he never loses track of the time of day?#an overactive fear-response to make sure he stays in his lane Despite him apparently enjoying scary things?#kinda sticks with the 'frankensteins monster' thing dontcha think? brought back from the dead? Stitched back together?#and the monster was an emotional sensitive character. like eddie. IDK idk im just rambling now
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just remembered that if the doctor didn't send rose back to pete's world while she was making it clear that she chooses the doctor and will always choose the doctor over everyone and everything then she wouldnt have gotten two more doses of void particles all over her (trip to pete's world and back) and she wouldn't have been pulled just that much harder than him when they were closing the gap between worlds and slipped off. how much do you think the doctor agonizes over this? because it's been a decade for me and im still in pain
#gained consciousness. randomly remembered this. heart sunk#is everyone happy? im not#im grateful they resolved rose's plotline with her dedication to the doctor and returning to him in s4#but FUCK the heartbreak will never go away#she was meant to be with him. in the tardis. forever.#she couldve been there when donna warped in. she should've been. she was supposed to BE THERE#AGONY#ANGUISH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i think thats what hurts so much: the hope/the promise/the belief that somebody is going to Be There#and youre going to have this future together#and when something happens. when you lose someone. its. entire timelines shutting down#all things you still were ''supposed to'' do together#promises unkept#my fucking god#grief#thats what it fills me with. fucking GRIEF#dw#doctor who#rose tyler#rose and the doctor#dw s2#doomsday#ow ow ow#dw.txt#.txt#pete's world#the tenth doctor#loss
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My 3 little cousins were baptized today. "Triggered" is kind of a strong word but being in a catholic church again... I'm a little fragile rn ngl.
#butch speaks#it was hard not to shake as i held J over the basin to have the water poured on his head#when he was cleansed of sin. as if a little kid could ever knowly or intentionally offend a so-called loving god#the words came naturally to me#but they meant nothing#i remember when they used to mean something. when i begged gods forgiveness for my sin (being a lesbian) and tried to pray the gay away#i remember how much i wanted to die bc i could never truly embrace the sacred#i STILL deal with the complex of catholic guilt. its a very real thing. its hard to shake#i cant help but wonder if the catholicism ingrained in my brain is why i have a hard time with casual dating n sex#fun fact: there was a point when i was a teen that i got REALLY catholic#i prayed everyday. i talked to my patrin saint (st agnes) every day. i wantsd to become a nun#the thought of marrying a man mad me more sad than feeling like an alien did. so id marry the church as a nun.#not the way to hide being a dyke when ur fam is catholic btw LMAO#the first priest i knew was father joe. i loved that guy. he was so kind. friendly. briming with love.#he was one of my biggest references for what a good person was like#he talked about gods love a lot. how its for everyone. no one is exluded. ever.#he used to look right at me when he said stuff like that. a few other kids too. all of whom grew up to be queer#then father joe passed away. our church merged with another church. father jeff was the priest there.#he was kind but not as kind. he talked about hell and sin more. he looked at the same kids father joe did.#but the kindness in his eyes wasnt there.#that wasnt for us.#my family wasnt even THAT catholic#i went to church every sunday i did vacation bible school and catechism classes and youth group#i was an altar servant and in the choir#i even used to speak/understand a little latin#imagine how much worse id have been if my mom could have afforded catholic school lmao#grateful to have grown up poor in that regard#hm. actually... reading my own tags. mayne we were pretty catholic actually.#fucking hell.#i need to have lesbian sex in a church before god and everyone. mayeb that would fix me.
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there’s a progression in there, somewhere, of even going from ‘the master might kill me any day now :(‘ to ‘the master is going to kill me :) she’s not going to let someone else do it after all this time’
#i wouldn’t call it hubris exactly. more like this pretty secure surity that that’s how they’re going to die.#and to them that makes sense. they chose this. they keep choosing it after the doctor offers them a way out.#because this is. they understand this. and they feel safe in the reprieve before their death.#how do you control death? choose who kills you. the last defense of a prey animal.#something something dark mirror to clara’s ‘i am owed’ speech for even is if this ever. doesn’t work out the way they thought it would.#clara tried to threaten the doctor so that he’d reverse death for her. even would turn on the master if she tried to spare them.#i am owed better. i am owed the death you promised… i am owed the knowledge that you don’t care enough to save me… you know. something like#that.#even is. kind of. meant to mirror the doctor’s companions at the time. they are a martha who can’t leave him. they are a donna who has to#remember and never speak about everything they know. they are clara if during deep breath clara reached back and truly didn’t expect. truly#hoped. that no one would take her hand. because if they can be certain it will happen they can know never to reach again.#jesus christ. go to therapy boy. you have so many trust issues.#but that’s why they’re Like That with the master because at the end of the day. who is easier to rely on? the guy who comes in to put out#fires but only sometimes. or the guy who. really really fucking likes starting fires.#better to get burned hoping someone is coming or get burned knowing that’s what would happen. and even. chooses the latter.#AND ALL OF THIS. for me to say thats why i cant actually let the master ever kill them.#i think she needs to do something worse to even. i think she needs to abandon them.#and that will either set them free to go have healthy normal relationships or. lets be honest much more likely. completely fucking break#them. which would be fun :) for me.#dw oc
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it really means the world to me that little 12 year old daigo mentions that kiryu used to hang out with him a lot, meaning a teenage kiryu (and likely a teenage nishiki as well) basically babysat an even younger daigo on the reg for some amount of time. i wonder what shenanigans they got up to
#if im remembering correctly i think they said something about going to the arcade but yeah other than that#they’re so… different. I feel like kiryu would try to teach him a sport and daigo would fucking hate it#unless he could manage to change the rules around so that he can hit nishiki with the ball a bunch of times#and I mean it’s not like kiryu would be helping him with schoolwork#like let’s be real here#all jokes aside I imagine it really meant a lot to daigo to have someone treat him like a normal kid and encourage doing#stupid normal kid things instead of whatever his other caretakers had him doing#kiryu (especially at that point) is just a big child at heart in his own way- probably more than daigo was ever really allowed to be-#so it’d be a nice oasis from the cold strict monotony of daigo’s typical life.#that and kiryu (and probably even more so nishiki) is actually somewhat physically affectionate unlike probably anyone else in daigo’s life#and isn’t afraid to like. ruffle his hair or pat him a little too hard on the back or what have you#man those two have known each other basically their entire lives huh???#like damn it’s just now really hitting me that they’ve known each other like. at least 35-40 years?#could be longer depending on if kazama introduced them prior to kiryu becoming a yakuza and all that#kiryu’s just sort of been. always there in daigo’s life. that’s sorta wild#anyway time for me to stop talking#rambling#daigo#kiryu
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