#it if the Fatigue came back first and it all just spiraled down from there
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Home (Joel Miller x f!reader)
Summary: You and Joel have been in a relationship, but only in private, for multiple months. After you spot him with another woman whilst roaming Jackson, scepticism ensues. The trials and errors of Joel Millers emotions.
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: age gap (joel is mid-50’s, reader is 24), pretty heavy angst, fluff, swearing, joel being mean, happy ending, fighting (verbal), uhh misconception on a situation
A/N: hi!! first one shot fr so nervous to post this one. i apologise for it being quite rushed it was typed on my phone and somewhat unedited!! still hope u enjoy thanks so much to anyone who reads <33
“Joel!” You caterwauled through a boisterous laugh as his sturdy arms came to wrap around your waist, hauling you back down onto the sunken mattresses, wrapping himself around you to keep you there, limbs intertwining. You struggled for a few pitiful moments, before you inevitably relaxed against his hold with a passive sigh. Joel lowered his head down to press against the dip of your neck, littering multiple content kisses there, before he grumbled against your skin,
“Stay.”
You gave a roll of your optics, pushing him away with a palm to his chest to meet his conceited grin with your own teasing one. “We have to go to patrols, Joel. We’ve slept in for too long.”
Joel grunted, his hands finding their way to your sides once again to hoist you up to lay on top of him, neck craning upwards to press his lips passionately against your own, hand securely suited on your cheek. You instantaneously reciprocated, humming against his mouth, pressing up against him tenaciously.
You both stayed like that until your throat screamed for reprieve, disconnecting from him; though he still chased after your lips. You gave a faint chuckle, tapping him against his abdomen as you lifted your thigh upwards, rolling off his brawny physique to heave yourself from the bed, however begrudgingly. “Come on, old man. Get up.”
Joel remained where he was set, arms crossing behind his head comfortably, merely staring over towards you as you rummaged around to pick out blemished clothes for the day. After dressing, you peered back over towards Joel, who enduringly continued to examine you from where you stood fumblingly, stealing all remaining breath from your lungs with a single glare.
You swallowed harshly, before sheepishly saying, “What?”
Joel allowed a small yet winsome smile to crack against his features, shaking his head slowly. “Nothin’. Just wanted to look at you.”
The patrols of the day dragged out for an unnecessarily prolonged time, limbs aching with fatigue by the time you returned to the confines of the Jackson walls. During the entire patrol, your mind had been preoccupied; the days earlier moments shared with Joel finding a special place in your heart, carving its name against it, deeply and thoroughly. You bit your lip in thought, pondering on your relationship with the peppered grey and brunette-haired man. Sure, you weren’t exactly together, and your entire situation consisted only behind closed doors; besides the hushed whispers, discreet glances and tender touches in passing, that is. You two both agreed early on that you wouldn’t be public about your close association, preferring to keep it private. If this would be from embarrassment of being seen with you or to protect himself, you weren’t sure; but in all sincerity, you didn’t much care. He had you, you had him, and his arms around you felt like home.
You were dragged from your thoughts when a spirited giggle sounded from a nearby alleyway. Allowing your curiosity to take the best of you, you creeped forth to seek out the source of it. Intrigued, you peeked your head around the corner, heart instantaneously spiralling downwards into the pits of your stomach, finding home there. It didn’t take long to register the scene unveiling before you, becoming so accustomed to the way the familiar man’s broad back strained against his stocky shoulders, with his hair unruled, sticking out in multiple different directions. Only thing was; he wasn’t alone. Joel was placed halfway down the alley, close towards a woman, who you assumed was the origin of the titter. She shifted in her placing, alluring eyes flickering up towards Joel, who was whispering incoherent words into her ear.
You didn’t need to see anything else, tears already pitifully welling up against your sockets to blur the sight as you shoved yourself away from the scratchy brick which burned along your flushed skin, setting a quick pace down the streets of Jackson, breath strained and struggling to find its escape. The overwhelming, jagged emotions surrounding you like a hurricane caused your insides to wound up tightly, threatening you with the efforts of a choked sob. You let your feet take you in any opposing direction to where Joel and the woman weren’t, eventually winding atop a hill, spine raking down the back of bark as you settled into a compacted ball.
You bit down on your bottom lip as it wavered. The pain in your heart accelerated from a dull throb to a searing, glaring pain; kicking your heartbeat to something much adjacent to a sharp hammer against a blistering anvil. And just as swiftly as it came, all afflictions broke from your wind pipe, like a brisk, frigid zephyr rushing past; causing an agonising weep to be sought from your throat. The conflict caused your head to be thrown forwards in the space between your arms, seeking any source of solace possible. Not much came.
That was how you ended up here, fixed atop a hillock, with Maria giving her best to console you, wiping away reminiscing tears from your cheeks messily with the back of your palm.
“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
The question makes Maria pause, her brows pinching together in a questioning manner as her attention downturned to where you were perched, set with your back against an oak tree and knees firmly planted against your chest. “Whys that?”
“He’ll never love me.” You murmur in response, throat closing in as you meet your dejected gaze with Maria’s own benign one, swirling with hints of sympathy. It was blatantly clear who the topic was revolved around, and you were aware that Maria understood this, too. The only people who knew much about you and Joel were Tommy and Maria, which you were thankful for.
She took a sharp inhale as she considered her next words, her head tilting to the side thoughtfully. “I think, sometimes, we fall for people we know we shouldn’t.”
You gave a defeated, laborious sigh; stomach churning sickeningly at her words, before you gravely inquired, fretting Maria’s answer. “But why?”
“It’s easier to fool ourselves and say that we’re okay, I guess. If we fall in love with someone we can’t or don’t have, it keeps the fantasy of ‘what if’ alive, y’know?” Maria answered softly, as though worried she would puncture an old wound of yours, whilst you apprehensively pick at strands of grass, the texture stinging against your tender flesh, “When someone is unobtainable, we live in the world we create of them in our mind. It makes seeing reality much more difficult.”
You frown towards this, tears watering with the threat of spilling over in a moment, though you force it back. Maria found a way to discreetly pinpoint your exact situation with shrewd words, however pessimistic. You were unable to form a coherent sentence in reply, so instead you offer the woman a tight-lipped, doleful smile, truly grateful for her opinion. You drag your glare over the setting sun, which began to give way to the moon, drowning the sky out in a whirlpool of azure and bronze and littering the canvas with white specks.
You gave a pensive hum, keeping your attention set against a peculiar dot shining obnoxiously brighter than the rest. “When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don’t seem to matter very much, do they?”
Maria gave a light chuckle of her concurrence, arms raising to wrap along her chest. Your head dipped downwards to now focus on the soiled terrain, the brief moment of peacefulness rapidly fleeting. It really is the hardest thing- when the person you want to comfort you the most, is the one that left you feeling that way. There’s no escaping that painful homesick feeling that settles in your chest.
Once the sun had completely dipped behind the silhouettes of the mountains, you had bid Maria a tepid farewell, heading back in the direction in which you came, only this time veering off to walk towards your assigned house. After hauling the door open and closing it brutally behind you, your footsteps barely made it past the kitchen before three resounding knocks banged against the flimsy wood of your door, the echo reverberating against your eardrums frantically. You released a shaky exhale, shifting back around to twist the handle, slinging the door open, only to be met with Joel standing on your porch, an amiable grin stretched along his expression. Though, it immediately fell as he took in your appearance; puffy eyes, reddened cheeks and a perpetual frown.
“What happened?” Joel questioned, taking a step forwards to embrace you within his hold; but you precariously moved a pace backwards, causing his arms to fall loosely by his side. You cast your gaze downwards, not yet to be able to meet the man’s interrogating eyes.
“I saw you… out there…” You murmured; words barely distinguishable. Joel took another step, closing the door behind him with his foot, but he didn’t dare make any additional actions.
“What? What do you mean, you saw me?” Joel inquired; tone wary. You didn’t respond for a multitude of passing moments in tense silence, until Joel called your name, breaking you from your sorrow and giving way to vexation; like a glass bottle, which withheld a secret note within it, shattering. You snapped your attention up towards him, profile hardening.
“That woman, Joel. I saw you. In that alleyway.” You informed, taking the chance to reverse more from his towering figure. You watched as his face morphed into that of uncertainty, before it fell into cognisant and penitence. You stood, waiting bitterly for his coming response. He opened his mouth for a few moments, though no words came; he fixed himself with a cough, shifting against his weight subtly.
“It wasn’t anything. We were only talking.” Joel tried, and you couldn’t stop the way an astonished scoff escaped you, eyes rolling sardonically, as you shot back, voice somewhat lifting to a dim yell,
“Talking? Please, Joel, that’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard!” Joel gave a groan, hand lifting to rub at the spot between his eyes momentarily, his head shaking vigorously.
“No, you don’t understand. She’s been causing problems with Tommy, I was only warning ‘er-“ You interrupted him with a humourless laugh, throwing your arms up against the air. How idiotic did he believe you were?
“Don’t even try lying to me. It was obvious, she was practically undressing you with her eyes!” You retorted, blatant indignation raging against your eyes.
“I ain’t bloody lyin’, girl!” Joel countered, his own tone thickening. You gave a harsh glare towards him, pivoting on your heel to force your way into the lounge room, clammy hands running along the material of your pants in efforts to compose yourself, though it proved to only rile you up more as Joel followed suit.
You whirled around here, scowling. “How can I even trust you, Joel? You don’t tell me anything! I don’t even know how you feel half of the time.” You pointed out with an exasperated huff. Joel stopped in his steps towards this, jaw grinding downwards irritably.
“You knew what you were getting into when this started.” Joel reminded you, only causing your stomach to lurch drastically more. He was right, you had known what getting into something with Joel Miller meant. It meant nothing was public, so he had no true obligation towards you. That didn’t break your stance, though, remaining resolutely stubborn as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively.
Joel gave an overwhelmed sigh, his posture slightly falling as he spoke, gaze directing to the side of you. “This is wrong. You’re so young, you don’t know what you’re doing to yourself, being with me.”
This caused you to shoot daggers against his skin, teeth clenching. “I’m not a child, Joel. I have every idea.” You turned away from him, unable to continue to watch him stand there like he was being forced to remain in place, like it was a duty. You clicked your tongue resentfully. “Though maybe I should’ve listened when Maria said this would be a mistake.”
Joel grumbled from behind you, his movements stiff. “Why does everything always have to be a fuckin’ struggle with you?”
You spun around to face him, viciously, storming forwards to accusingly jab a finger against his sternum. “Me? I can’t believe you sometimes! You can barely even look at me in public! But when we’re alone, you say all this comforting shit to me. Then you act like absolutely nothing happened? God, and I’m the idiotic one? I don’t know why you’re dragging me along, why you’re getting me to play this game. I don’t understand you.”
Joel immediately shoved your hand away from him, holding it against his own palm securely, countering you with an immensely threatening sneer. “Like I told you already; she’s been causing trouble around Jackson, and it’s a problem for Tommy. I was telling her to back off. Nothing was happening.”
At this point, it was too late to even comprehend the thought of him standing before you, so ardently obstinate in safeguarding his feelings with his reticent answers. Besides, even if you did believe him about the woman, the dispute dug so much deeper than that, this was only the pristine cherry on top of the double scooped ice cream. You had convinced yourself into accepting his requirements for the relationship, though you always covertly knew you wished he wanted more. You raked your hand back from his as you felt a tug against your throat, an alarming sob beginning to rise up to fall past your lips. You refused to let Joel see you cry, though, instead turning your head away from him, with a suppressed sniffle under your hand as you wiped against your cheek.
“Maybe you should just leave now.” You decided with a whisper, keeping your gaze set against your window, where outside the people of Jackson frolicked absentmindedly over the winding streets. Joel persisted to remain in his spot, standing rigid.
“Just leave, Joel.” You spat out, your voice cracking unadvisedly. Joel gave a defeated sigh, twisting on his heel to vacate the residence. And just like that, he left you standing in your living room, stout tears rolling down your sensitive skin the second the door slammed behind his dispersing frame. You pressed your limbs closer against yourself, head lolling down sullenly. You were unsure which pain was worse- the shock of what happened or the ache of what never did. Homesick.
Two days had passed since your quarrel with Joel. To say it had been arduous would be an
understatement. You were sat in your lounge room, pressed closely against the cushions besmirched with soot, restlessly picking at your nails after returning home from a tiresome afternoon of patrols. You had been weighing the entire argument in your head since it occurred, unable to sleep the night of, thrashing and twisting against your worn-out mattress, only to eventually grow irritable and sit out on the front of your porch until the sun awoke from its slumber.
After a multitude of hours spent staring towards your bergamot-stained wall, you hoisted yourself from the uncomfortable material, throwing on a black wool jacket on your way out the door, decisively trudging in the direction of Joel’s house. The flow of your relationship with the man had been a choreographed dance for multiple months, ripping you apart when you needed to cling. You supposed the time had come to implement some new moves. This was the only thought rushing through your mind as you slammed your fist against his stocky door multiple times, regret instantly seeking into your veins; but before you had the time to turn and rush back in the way you came, the door was thrown open to reveal a stern Joel, who had also just come back from his own patrols, no doubt. With the way fatigue hopped against his eyes and his rugged appearance mixed with worn-out clothes, it was clear he was tired.
“Hi.” You breathed, eyes wide as you gawked at him, poignantly. He stared for a second, his expression unreadable. Much to your relief, he then moved off to the side to allow you in, wordlessly. You edged past him, shoulder lightly raking against him which caused him to exhale woodenly as he shut the door, the scent of whiskey wafting over your senses like a lustrous wave. You turned to face him, all prepared speeches dashing off before you could catch up with them. You rather just- pathetically gawped over at him.
Joel then cleared his throat, brows furrowing as he pushed. “Well?”
You shook your head, regathering yourself. You blinked back towards him, breath quickening expeditiously as his expectant gaze met yours. Fuck, why was this so difficult? You decided to pace in front of him, in attempts to gain some ounce of confidence.
“Ok, well, you see- I kinda, no, I sorta- I figured that I didn’t really hear you out all that much yesterday.” You began to ramble, hands flailing beside your body as you walked back and forth, “It’s just I saw you with that woman, y’know? And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Even if it wasn’t anything. And you’re embarrassed to be seen with me around other people, and that hurt more. So even when you tried to explain the situation, I didn’t want to believe you-“
“Embarrassed?” Joel interrupted gruffly, squinting. You stopped dead in your tracks to peer around at him, curiously. Joel gave a sigh of realisation, a small grin replacing his frown, though it was quick to be wiped. He took a prompt step forwards, to which you tensed at, though didn’t dare move.
“Sweetheart, I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. I just-“ Joel paused here, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, “It’s not safe for you to be seen around with me. I’m not a good man.”
You completely turned to face him, awareness barrelling into you at blistering speed, demeanour abruptly flipping over and around. Fuck. You had thoroughly believed that you were the problem. Had you truly misinterpreted the entire situation?
You shook your head in an insistent manner. “You’re not a bad man, either, Joel; I don’t really believe that.” Joel grimaced towards your words, palms curling into fists by his side.
“You say that, but you don’t understand the consequences of being- truly being with someone like me.” You stare towards him, weighing your options against the palm of your hand, before you come to a rash conclusion.
You hastily drew yourself closer to him, “I don’t care. I want to be seen with you. I want people to know.”
“People will talk.” Joel persuaded tirelessly, moving back from you until his spine almost pressed up against the discoloured wall. You almost sneered your reply, determined for him to recognise your lack of acknowledgement for the opinions of others.
“Let them. Joel; even if you are doing this to try and protect me, I don’t want it. I can protect myself. And I- we’ve all done some fucked up shit. It’s a necessity in a world like this. I want you. All of you. Please.”
“Why?” Joel insisted, and you couldn’t muster up a reason to not allow the words to spill easily from your mouth, like translucent liquid,
“Because I’m in love with you, Joel. I struggle to even form a logical thought when I’m around you. You make me feel safe, like I belong. I wouldn’t have survived this long here without you.”
An inflexible silence rested against the abundantly thick air, gripping you in a chokehold. Lament wavered along your physique, and you opened your mouth to speak again, prepared to spill out a thousand apologies.
“Joel-“ You were cut off by Joel taking two perilous steps forwards to crash his lips against yours. It took a moment for the action to configure in your brain, gears short circuiting, causing Joel to tense and begin to pull back. You quickly raised your palm to his cheek, salt peppered beard scratching deliciously at your skin, bringing his jaw down to your own to meld your mouths back together; creating the perfect sculpture. You crooned against him as he turned the both of you around, pressing your back against the wallpaper, your arms dropping carelessly around his neck as his hands came to circle your waist and pin you as near to him as physically possible, and you blissfully allowed it.
Joel gave a groan when you disconnected your lips from his own, having to glide back up to the surface and draw in an immense inhale. You smiled, content, as your head dipped forth to press your foreheads together, breath being deftly shared between the small space separating you both.
“Okay.” Joel spoke gently after a while, your gaze flitting up to meet his, falling into a trance at the way his brown eyes deeply bore against you.
“Okay?” You repeated, breathless. He gave a small grin, his attention flitting downwards to your lips, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach a hand up and trace his thumb over your swollen bottom lip.
“We’ll give it a try.” Joel replied, his optics flittering back up your face. Your breath hitched as his digit dragged along your cheek bone. We’ll give us a try. You released a pleased exhale, eyelashes momentarily fluttering down against your skin as you nodded. You blinked back up towards Joel, whose gaze was already intently set on you.
“Okay.” You affirmed, and Joel dipped his head down towards you again, capturing you in an embrace that sent a sharp shiver along your spine. Wrapped against his build, his scent of sandalwood and musk drifting about, plump lips comfortingly pressed against yours and brown eyes which you could find yourself lost in for decades. And in that peace, you found home again.
“You and I, always almost. Again, and again. We were always on the verge of almost. Never nothing, never something.”
Home - Paravi
Comments and feedback are appreciated!
#joel miller fanfiction#Joel Miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel#hbo the last of us#the last of us#help idk what im doing#pedro pascal#tlou#tlou series#hbo#joel miller x f!reader#pedrostories
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like the dawn
part xi- the raft
“after all these years of bearing this pain alone, all i want is for you to hold me, and maybe put me back together again” - sarah doughty
summary: a nightmare leads to an early morning flight which leads to an arrest which leads to a very angry bucky barnes and steve rogers.
wordcount: 4k
warnings: violence, medical trauma, nightmares, dream-deaths, medical racism, survivor’s guilt, angst, me accidentally writing the same concept twice and calling it a fic
a/n: ok bit of a rant but the medical racism implications really hit home bc even tho i wasn’t locked in the raft for a false assassination it did take me literal years to receive any medical diagnosis for my mental and physical illnesses because of where i lived/my race/stereotypes and such. i’m not sure how i feel ab this part but i hope you all enjoy! love you all and sorry it took so long 🥺🤍
taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsivymusic
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Just as you suspected, the nightmares arrived like always. Tonight, they came for you.
It’s more of a twisted memory than a true nightmare, but as you “wake up” in a HYDRA cell, every moment feels real. You try to fire a beam of light through the door, but it bounces back, narrowly searing past you.
“Asset,” a voice says. Whirling around, you spot a speaker in the ceiling, along with a camera. “Welcome back.”
Back? HYDRA was destroyed. How were you back?
You fire another blast at the camera, but it does nothing. The energy is draining from your body.
The door opens, revealing several agents. They wrangle you down the hallway and back into that room. The room. The chair sits at its center.
You could have sworn this whole place was destroyed when Tony and Steve fought, but your fear is overwhelming your logic.
Next thing you know, the dream does that weird thing where you see everything in third person. You watch yourself get locked into the chair and the arms lowering and coming into contact with your forehead. You watch electricity rip through your body and you hear the trigger words recited.
Bucky is led in in the middle of the brainwashing. That was normal. HYDRA would often wipe you two back-to-back.
But then Steve follows.
They’re both unlocked from their handcuffs, but with several guns aimed at them, they can’t do much. You hear yourself gasp as the Angel takes over.
“Убей их [Kill them].”
A single command is all it takes before you spring up, pushing past the fatigue to fulfill your orders. Thanks to your weakened powers, the two are able to stay on defense for a while.
After a while, though, they begin to tire. They aren’t willing to fight back and you’re unrelenting in your attacks.
Eventually, they fall, sitting before you as you stalk towards them. Imminent. Unstoppable.
In your third-person view, you’re silently begging yourself to wake up. You know what you’re about to see. You know this is a dream. That doesn’t make it easier.
You raise both hands as the light that pours from them becomes blinding. And you send two blasts straight through your best friends.
An attack of that intensity kills them instantly. There’s no survivability rate when your insides get exposed to the heat of pure light.
You can’t tear your eyes away from where their bodies lie, slumped and crumbled and still glowing. A HYDRA agent approaches you from behind and injects you with a tranquilizer designed for super soldiers.
And you wake up.
———————————————————————
There’s nothing the three of you hate more than the nightmares. They invade your safe space, send you spiraling, and tend to end with at least one of you shaking and too scared to go back to sleep.
Tonight, the first sign was your wings twitching, then shivering. It wakes Bucky up first, who really hopes that it’s just the cold room and tugs a blanket on top of you. But then your breathing quickens.
Steve wakes up when he hears your heart rate passes 180 beats per minute and continues to rise, groggily reaching over to find you and Bucky in the darkness. They don’t have to exchange words, but instead focus on pulling you away from that hell you’re stuck in.
“(Y/N), doll, you need to wake up,” Bucky whispers, running his hand over your wings. You stir a bit, but don’t wake.
Steve scoots further under your wings and wraps his arms around you, partially to offer a comforting pressure, but also to prevent you from hurting yourself or them when you wake up. You all had learned that lesson after Bucky had jumped up a bit too quickly after one nightmare and had fallen off the bed and onto his bad shoulder.
He winces as you begin to talk. This is always the worst part.
“Please, don’t make me,” you beg. “I-” You go dead silent before a sob rips through you.
“Okay, (Y/N), you’ve gotta wake up for us,” Steve says. He’s scared of how fast you’re breathing, how panicked you sound. He knows Bucky can hear it too, concern written all over his face as he takes your hand.
Your entire body tenses. It begins to relax for just a second before you jolt awake, wings thrashing out as Steve holds you a bit tighter and Bucky shushes you.
“You’re okay, do you know where you are?” he asks. You nod, teary-eyed. “Words, pasăre.” Steve raises a brow in question, mouthing the word.
“Romanian for bird,” the brunet clarifies. “Promise I’ll teach you it later.” He turns back to you, patiently waiting as you collect your thoughts.
“We’re at the compound, in Stevie’s room,” you manage.
Said man nods and tucks his head in the crook of your neck. The gesture is a bit awkward, thanks to your wings, but grounds you nonetheless. Bucky scoots in equally close, hoping to give you a bit more sleep before the sun breaks the treeline and you head off on your morning flight.
“You’re alright, you’re okay,” he reiterates. “But you need to sleep.”
When you begin to shake your head, Steve butts in as well. “Buck’s right. Tony said Ross is gearing up for something big this week, you’ll need all the rest you can get.”
“Wow, the tag-teaming isn’t fair,” you say through a watery chuckle. Your boys only continue to insist that you sleep. And when they’re both holding you, all warm and safe, you can’t really protest.
———————————————————————
A few hours later, the moment the first rays of sun hit your face, you wake with a contented yawn.
As you slip from the bed, Steve and Bucky stir.
“Go back to bed,” you whisper. “I’m just going for a fly.”
They mumble for you to stay safe before rolling over and wrapping each other up. You leave with a smile, wandering onto the roof in no particular hurry.
The peak of summer is just around the corner, and your wings soak up the heat in moments, but the fog eases the oppressive temperatures. You soar from the roof, a smile breaking onto your face as you fly above the trees.
The local birds have gotten used to you by now, and chirp at you as you pass. Dipping down to graze the lake, you can’t think of a better way to start your morning.
You return to the tree line, inspecting the perimeter for any early morning patrols. One thing catches your eye.
A group of black trucks. Bulletproof, from the looks of it. They spot you, pointing fingers and yelling.
You raise your hands instantly. They don’t look like HYDRA, but you aren’t keen on taking chances.
“Who are you?” you yell. You spot the Secretary of State himself as he steps out of a car. “Should I come down? I-“
One fires something at you. It twinges in your wing before you manage to yank it out, wincing at the tingling sensation. You inspect the object. A tranquilizer dart.
Your left wing gets heavier by the second, strength waning as you rear back in fear. You can’t let them get you. Not like this.
You speed back to the compound best you can with a failing wing. Whatever was inside that dart is strong. Too strong. It’s rushing through your body faster than you can fly.
Back at the compound, the team’s rushing outside. FRIDAY had alerted them to a perimeter trip, and a quick look at the security cams had shown them the whole thing.
“Steve, Bucky!” You’re shouting as loud as you can with the wind in your face, hoping that by some miracle, they hear you.
Through blurry eyes, you see a group outside on the lawn. The hum of vehicles storms behind you, only giving you more incentive to push through.
The sedative takes over as you’re trying to land, and all of the sudden, you’re falling, falling, falling. It’s a 20-foot drop. You’re almost fully unconscious.
Wanda flings out a net of magic, but your powers fight back and you pass through the red energy. Your boys run forward then, not exactly sure how they’re going to catch you but damn sure they’ll try.
They don’t quite catch you, but instead break your fall as you tumble onto the grass. Your eyes are glassy and unfocused as they support you, scooting away from the government-issue vehicles that speed into the clearing.
SHIELD agents rush outside to assess the threat, but Ross flashes a document before they pull their weapons.
“I have a warrant for the arrest of (Y/N) (L/N) and James Barnes,” he announces. “On charges of treason, multiple counts of 1st-degree murder, conspiracy, and evading arrest.”
“You just shot her with a dart on my property,” Tony yells back.
Ross scoffs. “She was a danger-“
“To who, the birds?” Natasha’s always been against this mustachioed man, but this is beyond what she expected, even from him.
Some government agents approach without another word, presenting similar glass cages to the ones you were put in a month or so ago. You’re too out of it to argue, but as they grab you to lead you inside, Steve steps in.
“Hey, (Y/N), can you hear me?” he asks. You lazily nod, still not comprehending your situation. “I promise, I’m gonna get you out of this. You and Buck need to keep an eye on each other until we can step in, alright?”
Before you manage a sentence, they drag you and Bucky away, sitting you down in the cage and locking it. The brunet says nothing, only gives Steve a reassuring nod that fails to hide his nervousness.
The Secretary of State gives a smug, mocking salute to the team, before hopping back in a car and leaving as quickly as he came. Prick. Sam goes to pick up the dart you dropped, but it’s snatched away by an agent.
Steve’s already up in a panic, frozen as he watches his best friends -and possibly more than that- get torn away from him again. He wants to run after you, tail the car and drop off the grid with just the three of you. But that’s not realistic.
All he can do is wait.
———————————————————————
When you finally come to, it’s with a start. You don’t get far.
Bound in a straightjacket and with a constricting collar on your neck, the conditions are far from ideal. Fighting against the binds, you find that the metal ring on your neck is suppressing your powers. Plus a drip is attached to the back of your hand.
You’re in a cell, with one glass wall and several other cells looped in a circle. You can hear what sounds like waves rumbling in all directions.
“Зима [Winter]?” you ask. Your voice is hoarse.
You hear a sigh of relief from somewhere behind you.
“О, спасибо, блять. У тебя все нормально [Oh, thank fuck. Are you okay]?” You give a weak affirmation.
“How long have I been out?” You figure someone will translate the Russian eventually, so why bother.
Bucky counts for a moment. “Maybe four, five hours? Lot longer than usual for you.” He drops his tone. “Whatever was in that dart wasn’t a normal sedative.”
A pause. You shuffle a bit in the constricting jacket.
“… Thanks. For catching me.”
“I always will.”
“I didn’t catch you.”
His fall had always been a point of guilt. You’d been right there, but when you’d slipped, you’d gone to save yourself instead. Even if you couldn’t have stopped it, it still weighed heavy on your mind.
Survivor’s guilt, Steve had called it. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you felt just as guilty for letting him crash that plane.
“You couldn’t control that,” Bucky whispers.
You sniffle. “I know.”
The door at the front of the room slides open. In walks Secretary Thaddeus Ross himself. He looks proudly down to where you’re contained, before moving to the cell behind you.
“Mr. Barnes, we’re going to start interrogations with you.” It’s not an option. Guards flock around the cell as the doors hiss to open. Bucky stumbles out, eyes widening as he’s led past you.
“Why is she- You’ve got her hooked up to a drip; what’s in that IV?” he demands. Seeing the needle only reminds him of HYDRA and the countless IVs they’d poke you with, never telling you what they contained. Ross ignores the questions, only letting the guards push him out as he continues to protest.
Then the room is quiet. Left on your own, you resort to picking apart your surroundings.
The walls are reinforced. Based on that and the waves crashing, you know you’re in the Raft. You know Wanda, Clint, Sam, and Scott almost ended up here, too. A top-secret underwater prison.
After pondering if there are fish swimming around outside the walls, your eyes land on the security camera in the corner. You glare at it, focusing just enough energy so that the lights flicker the slightest amount. At least your powers are somewhat functioning.
Your wings are cold up against the wall. Curling up a bit more on yourself, you inspect the needle in your hand. A colorless liquid slides around the tube. There are only a few drops present, and even those are scarce. Whatever it is, it’s strong.
For a moment, your mind flashes back to the golden vials that HYDRA injected you with. How they glowed and burned as they entered your bloodstream. How, despite how much you screamed and cried, the burning sensation had only grown and grown.
The needle itches. You can’t scratch it.
You tug on your arms, but uncrossing them is impossible.
Strapped down on a cot, face-down and back blistering as wings grew against all rules of biology. You couldn’t move. You could hardly breathe.
The collar on your neck feels a bit too tight. Maybe that’s just because you’re breathing so hard. It starts beeping.
The beeping and whirring of that goddamned machine as the arms whirled and settled on your face. The sound of it charging up.
Before you know it, you’re gasping for air and clawing desperately at the drip with your wrapped hand. You look crazy. You feel crazy. Like you’re living two different times at once and all the memories flooding your head while the drug floods your veins is just too much to take.
But you can’t breathe or get the drip out. And the sense of all-consuming frustration burns a deep pain in your stomach.
Letting out a weak shout, you choke and cough as you struggle to stay sitting up. You don’t know how long it’s been. Ten minutes? Two hours? You can’t stay like this. Everything reminds you of there. Of HYDRA and of how little control you had there.
Your heart and thoughts are still speeding a mile-a-minute when the door opens again and Bucky hurries back in. He finds you slumped against the wall, gazing somewhere miles away but breathing like you just ran a marathon. Tears are welling in your eyes, your skin is clammy.
“Help her!” he yells. None of the guards budge. “God fucking- either help her or let me do it!”
Ross shakes his head. “She’s fine, we’ll handle it during her interrogation.”
“You can’t interrogate her like this, she’s having a goddamn panic attack,” Bucky spits, still fighting to get in your cell. Instead, they shove him into his and pull you to your feet, bringing along the IV pole and guiding you as you wheeze and stumble along.
In a blink, you’re sat down in a dark room and a light is shone on your face. You don’t exactly react, only turn away from the intrusion with a groan. Your throat is still constricting, your lungs are still fighting for every breath.
The pain in your abdomen makes you keel over onto the metal table, fighting back tears before you break into a watery sob.
“Please, help,” you whimper. “Something’s wrong, please. Everything hurts.”
Ross drops a few manila folders on the table. “Drop the act, (L/N), it won’t get you out of this.” Shuffling through one, he begins the interrogation. “How much do remember of your time in HYDRA?”
———————————————————————
You’re stuck in that room for three hours, constantly in pain, and never really breathing right. Eventually, your body doesn’t have enough energy and the panic attack subsides, but Thaddeus never stops the questions.
He snaps every time you hesitate and picks apart your words with the attention to detail of a literature teacher. Every lilt in your voice apparently means that you’re lying, every wince in pain is a ploy.
When you’re finally let back into your cell, you simply sink to the floor in a heap. Weak, shallow breaths are Bucky’s only sign that you’re alive. You don’t move, don’t speak.
You manage to sleep after another hour of fighting to breathe, and he swears he’s gonna commit a voluntary war crime if he ever gets his hands on Ross.
The lights shut off a while after, and Bucky gives in to a restless sleep.
The next morning, you awaken to several doctors in hazmat suits opening your cell. They move quickly, refilling your drip and checking your vitals before they move on to Bucky’s cell.
Neither of you are comfortable around doctors, but there isn’t much you can do to avoid them. The pain in your stomach and harsh pressure in your lungs haven’t faded, but you make more of an effort to talk. You aren’t sure how long you’ll be stuck in here.
You recognize a schedule as the day continues. Wake up, Bucky is taken for interrogation, then you, then return. They feed you through a tube, but give him bland meals. Something about your powers being a risk if they let you out of the straightjacket to eat.
Thanks to the IV in your hand and with no contact to the outside world, time begins to blend together. You sleep horribly on the cold floor, wake up in the same spot, and take up the same routine.
Bucky still tries to get in your cell every time he spots you when he comes back from his interrogations. It’s the only time you two can look eye-to-eye, yet yours are always unfocused and slide over him as he passes. The guards had to wrestle him into his cell one day when you were passed out, barely moving as the monitor showed your heart rate rising and falling rapidly.
He hasn’t been doing much better. The interrogations are long and his rations keep getting cut. Everything about this building reminds him of HYDRA and hearing your strained gasps for air don’t help with the silent panic attacks.
It’s a week later when the doors reveal someone other than Ross or his workers.
The team steps in, alone and immediately rushing over to your cells.
“Holy shit, is she okay?” Natasha whispers, kneeling in front of the glass. “Can you hear me?”
You don’t react as she waves a hand in front of you.
Bucky leans against the glass on his cell. “You need to figure out what’s in that drip bag. She’s been having trouble breathing, she’s in pain all the time… Plus, he’s interrogating us for hours every day.”
Steve grits his teeth as Tony scans the room. This is bad. It’s bad enough that you two can’t even see each other. Your mistreatment is just a nail on the coffin.
The billionaire curses under his breath. “Maybe that brain does still work after some time in the freezer, Barnes.” Lifting a hand that projects a small screen, he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s elephant tranquilizer.”
Bucky sees red.
Most of the team does, really, but knowing that they drugged you with lethal doses of opiates and told you nothing was wrong makes him even more determined to strangle Thaddeus Ross.
Steve apparently feels the same. He and Natasha storm down the hallway as the rest of the team prepares for the worst. When they return, Secretary of State in tow, they’re just relieved to see him alive.
“Your game is up, Ross,” Tony begins, flashing the screen. “I’ve got it right here on record that you’ve been pumping a war hero’s veins with Carfentanyl.”
Ross is unfazed. “She’s a terrorist. Besides, we knew she was enhanced. Normal sedatives wouldn’t be enough.”
“Oh, like the shock collar wasn’t enough already?” Wanda quips, glaring at him.
The whole group starts getting ballsy, taking digs at him as Tony starts calling his lawyers. The overlapping voices make your head ring as you struggle to stay awake. Lights dance and smear your vision as you try to place the familiar figures.
“(Y/N)? (Y/N), look at me.” A large blob moves in your peripheral. His voice is muffled through the thick glass. Or maybe that’s just your hearing going out. “We’re getting you both out of here,” he says.
After hanging up, Tony starts going up against Ross. They fire legal phrases and national laws and treatises that no one else understands, but the latter ends up hanging his head with a frustrated sigh.
“You’re overstepping, you know that, Stark? I could have you-”
“What, arrested?” Tony snorts. “No you couldn’t. Now, do we have a deal?”
They shake on it, and Ross nods to your cells. The doors slide open, and Steve and Bucky are the first to reach you and carefully remove the IV from your hand. A guard unlocks the shock collar next, and once you’re freed from the straightjacket, your boys guide you onto shaking legs.
The thin shirt and pants do nothing to stop the cold, and goosebumps begin to form as the team hurries to get as far away from the Raft as possible. Casting dirty glares at the guards and doctors that swarm the halls, everyone is more than happy to get back on Tony’s jet and never come back.
With one overly-polite goodbye to the Secretary of State, during which Natasha tells Ross that “сосать мой член” means “be of good health”, the roof opens and FRIDAY starts the course back to the compound.
Everyone splits off into smaller groups. While Rhodey, Natasha, and Tony talk at the front, Sam, Wanda, Scott, and Clint sit on the floor, whispering about the latter twos’ families.
Steve and Bucky keep an eye on you. Or, more accurately, Steve keeps an eye on both of you while you struggle to stay awake.
He passes a water bottle into your shaky hands, reassuring you that you need fluids to flush out the sedatives. When you can’t bring the bottle to your lips, he does so for you, helping you take small sips so as to not choke.
You lean into him, slowly healing now that your powers aren’t being suppressed.
“Guess I’m back to being the knight in shining armor,” he jokes. You shove him with a weak hand.
“Don’t get cocky. I’ve saved your ass several times.”
He nods. “I know, I know.”
You lean back on the bench, where Bucky’s been trying to sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the walls of HYDRA.
And when he doesn’t see the murders, the experiments, and the training, he sees you and Steve. That’s how it’s always been.
Your strength is returning the longer your powers are active, and you can feel your mind returning to normal. Laying down beside him, you gesture for Steve to join.
The three of you squeeze on one not-very-large bench, curled into each other, and simply enjoying the closeness.
Maybe it was unhealthy, to be so attached, to be willing to do anything for them. But if that was your worst sin then you were happy to march right to the gates of hell so long as they were okay.
“When we get home, you can read the letters,” you whisper. You’re ready for them to know. Or, as ready as you can be.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Eyes drooping, you furrow deeper into the super-soldier pile, wings dangling uncomfortably off the bench but nonetheless content. You’re safe now.
And you’re going home.
#marvel#marvel x reader#x reader#avengers x reader#avengers#steve rogers#bucky barnes#like the dawn#steve rogers x winged!reader#steve rogers x fem!reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky x winged!reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x reader#stucky x winged!reader#stucky x reader angst#stucky x reader
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wolcred week 2023, day 1: scars
He’s not fast enough — not even when it’s already over. He’s not fast enough to stop the summoning. He’s not fast enough to stop Ranni from going in there alone. He’s not fast enough to stop her from fighting that thing alone.
When faced with such extreme, life-threatening scenarios, fresh-faced adventurers tend to react in a number of ways: they collapse; they weep; they turn on the people closest to them in proximity, as the embers that had kept them alive and on their feet through the ordeal have yet to fully die down.
—so it shouldn’t come as a surprise when, after the dust settles, she grabs him by the shirt and slams him into the nearest wall.
“What in the seven hells was that?” she demands, in half a snarl.
It takes him a moment, but the more he looks, the more obvious it is that she isn’t injured. She’s covered in soot and dust, and there’s the cloying stench of burned hair when some of it has been singed off, but whatever scars this ordeal has left must be purely emotional, not physical.
“That,” he answers, as calmly as he can manage, “was precisely what we were trying to stop from happening.“
“And you knew this would happen,” she says. “You knew this would happen and you people still sent me into that… that death trap.”
… well. She has a point there.
“I anticipated that we had more time before a summoning would be attempted,” he says, “but I miscalculated. Even so, I was well aware of the risk. I’m sorry.”
The apology, feeble as it is, doesn’t do much. There’s pure venom in her eyes as she releases him and leaves without another word — and not for the first time, the weight of failure hangs far heavier on his shoulders than he has any right to bear.
—
When all is said and done — when Thancred’s body is returned to him, battered and bruised but otherwise no worse for wear — it becomes difficult to ignore the weight of failure that sits heavily on his shoulders. It’s a familiar weight, but it pales in comparison to everything else Lahabrea had left in his wake — a sense of fatigue that’s seeped into his bones, various aches left from whatever abuse Lahabrea had but this body through when he clearly couldn’t be bothered to properly care for the vessel he’d snatched for himself.
There have been words already — Y’shtola’s all too harsh criticism, Tataru’s teary hugs, Yda’s careful prodding and Papalymo’s proposed tactics on how to avoid a repeat incident, Minfilia and Urianger’s somehow equally terrible nagging, all of it melding together into something warm and secure — proof that for all of the destruction Lahabrea had wrought, it hasn’t destroyed everything.
He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and leans into it all. The pain and fatigue are an anchor, holding him in place when everything else threatens to spiral out of control — when everything has already spiraled too far out of his control.
He turns his head — and there, in the chair at his bedside, is Ranni, on a war path with whatever she’s grinding into smithereens with a mortar and pestle. There’s a gaping hole where months’ worth of memories should be, but even before then…
“Did I hurt you…?”
His voice comes out as a hoarse, pathetically weak croak — and when she startles, the pestle clanking loudly against the mortar as she drops it, he can’t help but feel just a bit guilty for it.
“What—“ she splutters. “You—No, you didn’t do anything to hurt me. Whatever Lahabrea did, I paid back tenfold.”
She’s a bit thinner than he remembers, fatigue pronounced in the dark circles collecting under her eyes — but she doesn’t look injured. Whatever scars this ordeal has left must be purely emotional, not physical.
“Listen,” she says, averting her gaze. “I… owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
Her lips curl downward in an irritated frown. “After Ifrit was summoned, remember? I was… less than kind to you. I can imagine it didn’t exactly help things, when Lahabrea came knocking.”
“No,” he says. “You… you had every right. I let you down.”
“You did not,” she retorts, shaking her head. “All that happened that day was perfectly within expectations, even if it wasn’t the conclusion anyone was hoping for.”
He winces. “That’s precisely what happened with every Primal afterwards, isn’t it?” he asks. “You had to slay Titan and Garuda, too.”
She nods. “So I did. And I had Y’shtola with me every step of the way for Titan, so if you intend on blaming yourself, then you might as well blame her, too.”
Well, they can’t have that. Y’shtola surely did the best she could, given the circumstances. It’s the kind of argument that would find itself right at home in the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, amidst coins passed between hands and the fairest amount owed up for constant debate.
“Oh, I suppose you win this round,” he says, lightly, “but know that this is far from over.”
She grins, confidently, as she crosses one leg over the other and leans back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest — as bold and assured as she’d been the day she’d frozen Ungust’s goons solid outside the Quicksand and proven once and for all that she was precisely the kind of adventurer that the Scions had needed.
“We’ll just have to see about that.”
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(3AM) ODD Women Series - 40 days Ascent (TWO)
A/N: I’ve had this in my draft notebook for a very long time, now I’m publishing it. I hope you enjoy.
If you want to read the first one; here it is: ASCENT (ONE)
40 Days Ascent
TWO
After two weeks of climbing, Sage and her group took a much-needed break. They found a spot to rest and gazed at the cloudy skies above Everest. The sky above the mountain was filled with swirling clouds, creating a mesmerizing sight. It felt peaceful and calm, contrasting with the busy world she had left behind.
As she gazed at the cloudy skies, her mind momentarily drifted from the mountain to thoughts of Henry. It struck her that in the past two weeks of climbing, she hadn't thought much about him. The challenges and intensity of conquering Everest had consumed her every thought and energy.
But now, during a brief break, her mind wandered back to Henry. She couldn't help but wonder what he was up to, who he might be with. It made her a little sad to imagine him moving on so quickly, finding happiness with someone else. After all, Henry had always been handsome and charming.
The idea that he might have found comfort in another person while she was here pushing herself up the mountain stung a little. In the quiet of the mountains, those thoughts seemed bigger, and she felt a touch of jealousy. She was relieved that the poor signal up here prevented her from checking social media and falling into a spiral of sadness.
It gave her a break from the digital world, allowing her to fully focus on the present moment. Without the constant distractions and comparisons of social media, she could concentrate on her personal journey and the challenges ahead.
-----
As their guide announced their proximity to Camp 3, Sage braced herself for the next phase of the climb. She knew it wouldn't be easy. The terrain would be steeper, icier, and more challenging than before.
Taking a deep breath, Sage mentally prepared herself for the upcoming ascent. They would have to navigate sharp rocks and narrow ledges, testing their balance and courage. The biting cold made each step more difficult, but she remained determined.
With each stride, Sage could feel her muscles working hard. The relentless wind threatened to throw her off balance, but she focused on her breathing and heartbeat, finding comfort in their rhythm.
Occasionally, she stole glances at the breathtaking scenery around her. The mountains stretched out in all their grandeur, reminding her of the magnitude of the task at hand. Every small accomplishment brought her closer to her goal.
Finally reaching Camp 3, Sage’s body felt fatigued but her spirit remained unyielding. Rest was necessary to regain her strength for the next leg of the climb. Amidst the towering peaks, she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings, a reminder of the challenges and rewards of her journey.
Though she knew the climb was far from over, settling into Camp 3 surrounded by fellow climbers brought her a renewed sense of purpose. She drew strength from the mountains and the support of her teammates, ready to face whatever came next.
Exhausted from the arduous climb, Sage settled into the tent, her body craving rest. She was too fatigued to bother with the discomfort of lying down, so she found herself drifting into sleep while sitting.
In the peaceful silence of the tent, her mind gradually succumbed to the realm of dreams. As her eyes closed, vivid images and sensations began to unfold. She found herself transported to a world beyond the icy slopes and jagged peaks of Everest.
Drifting deeper into her dreams, the boundaries of reality faded away, and a familiar figure emerged within the ethereal realm. In this dream world, she found herself lying in a cozy bed, wrapped in the comforting embrace of Henry. Their bodies intertwined, their whispers of affection filling the air, creating an intimate sanctuary just for the two of them.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Henry's fingertips traced the contours of her cheek, igniting a trail of electric sensations that surged through her entire being. His touch was gentle yet filled with desire, as if he couldn't get enough of her.
The room was filled with an intoxicating blend of passion and vulnerability. Every word he spoke was laced with affection and longing. "I love you," he whispered, his voice sending waves of pleasure cascading through her. Their connection, both physical and emotional, grew stronger with each passing second, as they reveled in the intimate moment they shared together.
But suddenly, she was abruptly pulled from the dream, as if a gust of wind had torn through the scene. The sheets around her stirred and fluttered, as if they had a life of their own, swirling and twirling in the air. The dream dissolved, leaving her disoriented and yearning for the fleeting warmth she had experienced.
In that fleeting moment between the dream and waking up, Sage was overcome by a bittersweet rush of emotions. The memory of Henry's touch lingered, while the reality of her solitary tent surrounded her. It was a stark reminder that even the most vivid dreams could slip away, leaving behind an ache and a desire to hold onto those precious moments for just a little bit longer.
As Sage emerged from her tent, she was greeted by a breathtaking sight. The vast expanse of the night sky stretched out before her, a tapestry of darkness adorned with a multitude of sparkling stars. The air at Camp 3 on Everest was crisp and pure, allowing for a remarkable clarity in the heavens above.
Sage let out a sigh, her mind drifting to Henry and the ache in her heart. The peacefulness of her surroundings brought her comfort, a respite from the tumultuous thoughts swirling within. As she reflected on her relationship with Henry, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the tranquility of this place.
She remembered the moments of tenderness and the way Henry had chosen her, despite her own doubts. Sage saw herself as an ordinary woman, always striving to enhance her appearance with clothes and makeup, hoping to feel beautiful in his eyes.
But deep down, she battled with insecurities, never fully embracing the love and attention she received. In this moment, amidst the quiet mountains, those doubts seemed to loom larger. Yet, there was a glimmer of gratitude shining through. Despite her reservations, she had experienced a profound connection and a love that had touched her soul.
As Sage gazed at the majestic landscape, she recognized that true beauty went beyond the external. It was a reminder that she, too, was deserving of love and happiness, irrespective of her perceived imperfections. And in the silence of the mountains, she found solace, allowing herself to believe in her own worth.
-----
With a heavy breath, Sage continues her arduous ascent towards the summit of Everest. The higher she climbs, the thinner the air becomes, making it increasingly challenging to breathe. Sensing the need for additional support, she reaches into her backpack and pulls out the oxygen mask, securing it tightly to her face. As she inhales the crisp, purified air, a renewed sense of energy courses through her veins, revitalizing her weary body and allowing her to push forward with greater determination.
As Sage continues her climb towards the summit, exhaustion starts to take its toll on her body. Her legs grow tired, and she begins to feel the strain. Suddenly, her foot slips on the icy surface, causing her heart to skip a beat. Reacting quickly, she plants the sharp pick of her ice axe into the frozen ground, saving herself from a dangerous fall.
With a firm grip on her pickaxe, Sage dangles in the air, her eyes fixed on the drop below. The height of the cliff sends a shiver down her spine, and she can't help but think about how close she came to a disastrous fall without her trusty tool. As her mind wanders, memories of her life in London flood back, inevitably bringing Henry to the forefront of her thoughts. Why does he have to be the one who occupies her mind in this moment of danger? She questions whether he would even give her a second thought if she lost her grip, picturing him in the arms of another woman. The realization stings, but before she can dwell on it, her companions rush to her side, pulling her away from the edge and returning her to safety.
The guide approached Sage, assessing her condition and inquiring if she felt capable of continuing or if she needed a break. Sage expressed her desire for a quick pause, feeling the need to recharge with some snacks and refreshments. The rest of the group agreed, understanding the importance of maintaining their strength and stamina for the final stretch. They found a suitable spot, taking a moment to catch their breath, replenish their energy levels, and perhaps share some lighthearted conversations to uplift their spirits. It was a brief respite, but a valuable one, allowing them to regroup and gather their determination before continuing their arduous journey towards the summit.
Energized by their brief break, the climbers pressed on, their movements purposeful and steady. The anticipation of witnessing the sunrise from the summit propelled them forward. With each step, the air grew crisper, and the surroundings became bathed in the soft glow of the approaching dawn. The sky transformed into a breathtaking tapestry of colors, as if the heavens themselves were putting on a magnificent show. Shades of orange, pink, and gold painted the horizon, casting an ethereal light over the majestic landscape. It was a sight that seemed almost surreal, a reward for their unwavering determination and resilience. As they ascended, the view became more awe-inspiring, a testament to the beauty and grandeur of nature. With the summit within reach, their hearts filled with a sense of wonder and anticipation for what awaited them at the top.
Sage's determined steps propelled her relentlessly towards the summit, oblivious to the passage of time. And then, at last, she reached the pinnacle. A rush of feelings overwhelmed her, and tears started streaming down her face. It was the result of all the hard work and training she had put in for weeks or maybe even months. The moment hit her hard, and she felt a deep connection to the stunning beauty that surrounded her. As Sage looked out from the summit, she couldn't help but be amazed. The sunrise painted the snowy peaks with a golden glow, making everything shine. The peacefulness of the scene mixed with the incredible achievement made Sage feel both humble and incredibly happy. In the midst of this incredible moment, Sage wanted to capture it forever. She wanted to take a picture that would remind her of this beautiful view and the triumphant feeling she had at the top.
She reached for her camera, eager to immortalize the sight that had moved her so deeply. But before she could click the shutter, one of the guides, offered to help. He understood the significance of this achievement and wanted to make sure Sage had the perfect photo to remember it by.
Gratefully, Sage handed her camera to him, who skillfully framed the shot, capturing her radiant smile and the awe-inspiring landscape in the background. He knew just the right angle and lighting to do justice to the moment. With a click of the camera, the image was preserved, a tangible reminder of Sage's triumphant journey.
As they celebrated their accomplishment as a group, Sage felt immense gratitude for the support and camaraderie of her companions. They congratulated her, sharing in her joy and pride. The summit photo became a cherished memento of their shared triumph, a testament to the indomitable spirit that had carried them all to the top of the world.
----------
As the group began their descent from the summit, Sage's initial excitement was tinged with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Glissading down the steep slopes brought both thrills and nerves. Would she be able to control her speed? What if something went wrong? Taking a deep breath, Sage decided to go for it. She sat on her pack and started sliding, feeling an immediate rush of adrenaline. The world around her became a blur as she picked up speed. She focused intently, trying to navigate the twists and turns, all while maintaining control. With each passing moment, Sage's confidence grew. She trusted her instincts and made quick decisions to avoid any obstacles in her path. The wind whipped against her face, adding to the exhilaration of the ride. Despite her initial fears, Sage found herself embracing the challenge. The rush of adrenaline fueled her determination. She pushed through the fear, realizing that she was capable of more than she had imagined. Finally, the glissade came to an end, and Sage couldn't help but smile with a sense of accomplishment and relief. The journey down had taken them around an hour, and she was grateful to have experienced such an exhilarating descent.
----------
After leaving the base camp, Sage quickly made her way back to Lhasa. The journey was filled with stunning views of snow-capped mountains and beautiful Tibetan villages. The winding roads offered glimpses of the vast Tibetan plateau and its serene landscapes.
As Sage traveled along the Friendship Highway, she couldn't help but be captivated by the ever-changing scenery. The majestic mountains, colorful prayer flags, and Tibetan nomads with their grazing herds created a sense of awe and wonder.
Once she arrived in Lhasa, Sage headed straight back to the luxurious St. Regis hotel, where she had left her belongings before embarking on the challenging climb. She was relieved to find that her luggage was safely stored, ready to be retrieved.
With a sense of comfort and familiarity, Sage settled back into the elegant surroundings of the hotel. The impeccable service and luxurious amenities provided a much-needed respite after her arduous journey. She unpacked her belongings and found solace in the familiar items that carried memories of her expedition.
As Sage looked out from her hotel room window, she marveled at the panoramic views of Lhasa's ancient streets and historic landmarks.
As she settled into her hotel room, she couldn't contain her excitement to relive the breathtaking moments she had captured on her journey. With her laptop in hand, she carefully retrieved her precious footage and began curating the best photographs and videos from her GoPro.
Sage settled into her hotel room at the St. Regis, eager to relive the breathtaking moments she had captured on her journey. With her laptop in hand, she sorted through her footage, selecting the best photos and videos to share.
Memories flooded back as she edited and trimmed the footage, choosing the most awe-inspiring moments. The thrill of accomplishment and the beauty of the mountains were preserved in these digital memories.
As she began uploading, Sage realized it would take longer than expected. Feeling a mix of exhaustion and anticipation, she decided to rest while her laptop continued the process.
She nestled into the plush comfort of her hotel bed, feeling the fatigue of the climb. Her mind was filled with contentment and excitement. Wrapped in soft sheets, she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of the majestic peaks and endless possibilities.
----------
Groggy from her slumber, Sage reached for her phone and was immediately startled by the overwhelming number of missed calls she had from Henry. Over 500 missed calls, all from him. The weight of the situation sank in as she wondered what could have happened in her absence to trigger such a desperate flurry of attempts to reach her.
Her heart pounding, she quickly opened the message notifications, bracing herself for the barrage of emotions that awaited her. As she read through Henry's messages, a rollercoaster of emotions washed over her. Concern, anger, apology, and even resentment were all present in his words. Each message revealed a different facet of his feelings, shifting from worry to frustration, and eventually pleading. The sound of his voice, filled with a mix of anger and desperation, echoed in her ears as she listened to the voicemails one by one.
Sage absorbed the weight of the situation, she realized something unexpected. Henry hadn't crossed her mind since she left Camp 3 and arrived back in Lhasa. The mountain had consumed her thoughts and emotions, leaving little space for anything else. It was as if her focus on the climb had pushed Henry to the periphery of her consciousness.
She let out a tired sigh and rubbed her eyes, deciding against calling him back. She didn't want her newfound peace to be disturbed by the emotional turmoil that awaited her on the other end of the line. Resolute in her choice, Sage set her phone aside, determined to focus on her own well-being.
Still groggy and barely awake, Sage let out a yawn and absentmindedly reached for her phone, answering it without fully realizing who was on the other end. As she scratched her stomach, she mumbled a sleepy "Hello?"
To her surprise, a familiar voice crackled through the line, instantly jolting her awake. It was Henry, calling once again. The grogginess still clouding her mind, Sage listened as Henry poured out his worry and concern, expressing how scared he had been after seeing the video she had uploaded.
Henry explained that he had come across a video she had uploaded on social media. It was a clip from her GoPro that captured the terrifying moment when she slipped and almost fell off a cliff. The sight had sent him into a panic, imagining the worst possible outcome. He had been worried sick about her safety.
Sage's drowsiness began to dissipate, replaced by a mix of confusion and concern. She vaguely recalled the clip from her GoPro, the one capturing her near-fall from the cliff. She had uploaded it without thinking much about the impact it could have on others, especially Henry.
An impish grin spread across Sage's face as a mischievous idea formed in her mind. She decided to have a little fun at Henry's expense, unable to resist the temptation. With a hint of mischief in her voice, she replied, "Oh, Henry, I'm so glad you called. Guess what? I'm actually still hanging on that cliff. The Wi-Fi signal here is surprisingly strong, so I thought I'd upload the videos while I wait for help."
There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then Henry's voice filled with a mix of disbelief and concern. "Wait, what? Are you serious? Sage, that's not funny!"
Unable to contain her laughter, Sage couldn't resist taking the prank a step further. She exclaimed, "Weee!!" as if she were playfully jumping off the cliff. Then, with a mischievous giggle, she abruptly ended the call, leaving Henry bewildered and confused on the other end.
As she lay back on the bed, a sense of satisfaction washed over Sage. She knew she had successfully messed with Henry, even if just for a moment. The thought of his puzzled expression brought a mischievous smile to her face.
Feeling a wave of contentment, Sage closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off to sleep.
------
Still in a daze from her deep slumber, Sage's eyes fluttered open to the sight of the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains. A growl from her stomach reminded her of her hunger, and she decided to indulge in some laziness and order room service for lunch.
As she lounged on the comfortable chair by the study table, the hotel staff arrived with a tray of delicious food. Sage greeted them with a grateful smile and thanked them for their service, making sure to leave a generous tip to show her appreciation. With her hunger piqued and the aroma of the freshly prepared meal filling the room, she couldn't wait to dig in.
Just as she was about to take her first bite, her phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. Absentmindedly, she picked it up, her mind still foggy from sleep and hunger.
As Sage held the phone to her ear, she recognized Henry's voice immediately. It was filled with a mix of concern and frustration, a familiar tone that she had grown accustomed to over the years. "What were you thinking, Sage?" Henry exclaimed, his voice tinged with worry. "I just saw the video from your GoPro. Glissading down those steep slopes? It's dangerous! You could have seriously hurt yourself!"
Sage couldn't contain her mischievous laughter as she responded to Henry's concern. "Oh, Henry, you won't believe it! I'm still glissading down the mountain as we speak. The mountain is just too tall, and I couldn't resist the thrill of it all. I only answered the call because the Wi-Fi signal is surprisingly strong during glissades!"
There was a momentary silence on the other end, followed by Henry's bewildered voice. "Wait, are you serious? You're still sliding down the mountain? Sage, that's not possible!"
“The slope is just too steep! Call me again when I finally reach base camp, okay?"
Sage couldn't resist the opportunity to mess with him a little longer. With a mischievous giggle, she cut the call abruptly, leaving Henry bewildered on the other end.
Chuckling to herself, Sage placed her phone aside and continued enjoying her room service lunch. The thought of Henry's reaction made her giggle even more, imagining his puzzled expression as he tried to make sense of her ongoing glissading adventure.
----------
After returning from Lhasa, Sage arrives back at Shanghai, and gathered with her friends. They gathered around the table, enjoying the skewers and beer at the outdoor seating area. The conversation shifted to Sage's recent adventure on Everest, and her friends expressed their relief that she had made it back unharmed. They discussed the challenges she faced, but there was an underlying sense of caution and concern in their voices. While acknowledging her accomplishment, there was an unspoken understanding of the risks involved in such a daring feat. The atmosphere was a mix of relief, curiosity, and perhaps a hint of apprehension as they listened to Sage recount her journey.
As they indulged in their conversation, one of Sage's friends noticed the vibrating phone atop the table. The group's collective gaze shifted towards the caller ID, revealing that it was Henry trying to reach her once again. They exchanged knowing glances and one of them spoke up, "You don't have to answer that and ruin your evening, Sage. Let's just enjoy our time together."
With a grateful smile, Sage nodded in agreement, appreciating the understanding and support of her friends. They returned their attention to the lively atmosphere around them, savoring the moment and leaving the unanswered call to be a silent reminder of the complexities that lie beneath the surface.
-----
As Sage walked back to her hotel, feeling a bit bloated from the beers she had consumed earlier, she spotted a 24-hour convenience store nearby. Craving a fizzy drink to help soothe her stomach, she decided to step inside and find a seat where she could gather her thoughts.
Taking a seat at one of the small tables inside the convenience store, Sage reached for her phone as it buzzed once again. With a fizzy drink in hand, she answered the call, hoping to clear her mind before heading up to her room.
She listened silently as Henry's voice filled her ears, berating her for not answering his calls and accusing her of seeking attention. She could feel the frustration and worry in his words, but something within her refused to engage in an argument.
Henry's voice grew sharper as he continued his tirade. "This isn't about safety anymore, Sage. It's about your constant need for attention and thrill-seeking. You've got everyone's attention now, so can you please come back home and stop putting yourself in these dangerous situations?"
Chuckling softly, she replied, "Attention seeking, huh? Well, if I wanted your undivided attention, Henry, I could think of more dramatic ways to get it. Maybe I'll set myself on fire next time we meet."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and Sage could almost hear Henry processing her response. In that moment, she realized her teasing remark might have been more provocative than intended.
"Hmm, maybe that wasn't the best example," she quickly added, trying to lighten the mood, and the alcohol playing a role.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Sage playfully retorted, "Oh, Henry, you're like a mosquito buzzing around my adventures. But guess what? I've got my bug repellent called 'We're-No-Longer-Together' spray. Works like a charm! So, go ahead and bug off!"
She pretended to spray an imaginary can, making exaggerated gestures and sound effects. "Pssssshhh! Take that, Henry! Now you're officially repelled from interfering in my life!" The alcohol fueling her funny bone. “Don’t you have new women to pester now?”
Henry let out a heavy sigh. "Look, Sage, I know we're no longer together, but that doesn't mean I’ve stopped about you”
Sage raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "Why care? Tell me, Henry?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then Henry's voice softened. "I'm just worried, okay? I know I hurt you, and I can't help but feel responsible for your well-being."
A wry smile played on Sage's lips as she interrupted him. "You flatter yourself, Henry. While it's true that you've caused me pain, this trip to Everest was a dream of mine long before our relationship even started. The world doesn't revolve around you anymore, or anyone else for that matter."
Henry's plea echoed through the phone, "Then can you just come home now, please? Or do I have to come and get you myself?"
Henry's plea hung in the air, and Sage couldn't resist the opportunity to deliver a witty retort. She grinned mischievously, playing along with his suggestion. She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and fired back with a sly grin, " "Oh, Henry, I'd love to see you scale Everest in a suit and tie. Just imagine the headlines: ' Man Climbs Everest to Drag Back Ex!' It would be quite the spectacle. I'll be waiting at the top of Mount Everest, sipping a margarita and enjoying the view. Just make sure to pack your climbing gear and a sense of humor! But here's the catch: you'll have to do it blindfolded and hopping on one leg. It's the only way to truly appreciate the thrill! "
As she spoke, Sage couldn't help but envision Henry's bewildered face and the sheer absurdity of the image. The thought of him attempting such a ludicrous feat sent her into a fit of laughter echoing through the convenience store. She quickly regained her composure and added, "But don't worry, Henry. If you survive the blindfolded hopping, I'll reward you with a mountain of ice cream. Deal?"
As her laughter subsided, Sage composed herself and continued, "But here's the catch, Henry. If you manage to conquer Everest blindfolded and hopping, I'll have an even bigger challenge for you. You'll have to climb back down while juggling flaming torches and reciting Shakespearean sonnets. It's the only way to truly impress me!"
"Damnit Sage, can you please take this seriously!" Henry's exasperated voice filled the air. He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "Wait, are you drunk? You've been spewing nonsense all this time, and I can't tell if you're joking or not."
Sage burst into laughter, unable to contain her amusement at Henry's exasperation. "Drunk? Oh, Henry, if I were drunk, you'd know it! I'd be climbing Everest wearing a traffic cone on my head, or perhaps wearing a sombrero, and serenade the moon with a ukulele”
Henry sighed, his tone filled with concern. "Seriously, Sage, how much have you had to drink?"
Sage turned silent, her mind filled with a mix of emotions. She couldn't help but question Henry's sudden concern. After all, he was the one who ended their relationship, casting her aside without a second thought. Why should she still feel obligated to answer to him?
As the weight of her thoughts settled, Sage let out a sigh. She realized that it was time to assert herself and stand her ground. "Henry," she began, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of defiance, "it's not your concern anymore. You made that clear when you walked away...”
Henry's voice wavered on the other end of the line, filled with a mix of regret and vulnerability. "I told you I still care for you! I... I don't know, your absence has made me realize how important you are to me. That day, when I caught you leaving for the airport, I wanted to fix things between us."
Sage took a deep breath, mustering her strength to speak her truth. "Henry, you never truly loved or appreciated me for who I am, or accepted me fully. I can't simply forget the way you treated me and the emotional turmoil you put me through."
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line as Sage's words hung in the air. Henry's voice wavered as he responded, "Sage, I... I never realized the impact of my actions. I never meant to hurt you."
Sage let out a bittersweet chuckle. “Oh, Henry, your ability to tune out the obvious is truly remarkable. Did you have a secret portal to a parallel universe while we were together?“
"Look, Sage, can you just come home, and let's talk about it, please?" Henry pleaded, his voice filled with desperation and a glimmer of hope.
"I think... there's nothing left to talk about," Sage replied, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation. She knew Henry all too well—how quickly he could switch gears, from showing affection one moment to seeking attention from other women the next, leaving her feeling insecure. It was a cycle she couldn't bear to repeat.
With a newfound determination, Sage made a swift decision. She calmly put down the phone, imagining Henry's bewildered expression on the other end. Without hesitation, she blocked his number, removed him from all social media.
And as she contemplated whether the alcohol had indeed played a role in this absurd conversation, she couldn't help but think, "Maybe it's time to switch to herbal tea."
A/N: I will be doing some soft editing since there might be a few grammatical errors. I hope you all enjoyed the story, even though it began with a somber and heavy tone. I tried to inject some humor towards the end to lighten the mood.
#Henry Cavill#Henry Cavill Imagines#Henry Cavill AU#AU Henry Cavill#Henry Cavill Fan Fic#Henry Cavill FanFic#Henry Cavill Fan Fiction#Henry Cavill FanFiction#Henry Cavill x OC#Henry Cavill x OFC#Original Character#Alternate Universe#Odd Women#Odd Women Series#MSILWRITES
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Not to like “oh woe is me” post but I feel like I can vent on tumblr since it’s idk tumblr. But I was SO excited for my final semester of undergrad this summer and then almost immediately after I got here in August I began struggling very deeply in ways I have never struggled before. Like confused 24/7, missing assignments because I was too tired to even get out my phone let alone my laptop, forgetting everything including what I’m doing or where I’m supposed to be and even classroom locations on a campus I’ve been at for 4 and 1/2 years. Losing things constantly, randomly loosing grip strength and dropping things, horrible brain fog, waking up feeling like I’m shaking 24/7 but everyone telling me I’m not shaking anywhere when I ask, issues walking, dizziness, vertigo. I’ve been having such extreme fatigue I can’t even get out of bed to pee until it hurts because I’m just too tired. This has been happening since August. Which I assumed this was bad depressive episode so I had them double my antidepressants, and then nothing got better.
But then like two months ago I woke up with this pain in the left upper corner of my right eye. Just a spot the size of my fingertip. And it had me in so much pain I was throwing up. So I thought “I’m a big kid, I have migraines like this all the time.” and I took some of my medicine for that. But it didn’t go away. It lasted for a whole day. When it came back a few days later I decided maybe it was sinus pressure, so I took some allergy meds and some cold meds for a week while it was hurting off and on. But that didn’t work. And then it came back and I got a migraine over top of it. So it wasn’t that. And FINALLY last week it got so bad I couldn’t see out of my eye, the pain had been constant for about four days, and I was so dizzy I could barely walk. So my mom drove an hour out of state to pick me up and an hour back down to take me to the er, who promptly sent me to their on call opthamolagist who, after a serious of very very bright lights directly to my hella dilated pupils, told me my optical nerve is swollen and I need and mri.
Which is FUCKING STUPID that my optical nerve is causing me this much pain. But whatever.
Anyway the day after I went to the er and saw the eye doctor I had a follow-up with my primary care physician, and he said “oh yeah, they’re gonna want that mri urgently. We want to make sure you don’t have ms. Your symptoms are consistent and optical neuritis is often one of the first things ms patients experience before diagnosis.” like girl? If I have ms that chose to present itself by incapacitating me to the point I am failing my final semester of undergrad, and may not be able to fix it, I am going to lose my mind. It couldn’t have presented itself six months from now?????? There’s no confirmation it’s me yet until after my mri, but still. Whatever this is has me pissed tf off. Show up at a different time.
All that being said. Here’s a meme I made about it using a screenshot from one of my fave vines because I’m actually coping and not at all having a sort of hypochondria spiral and doing as much research on it as possible. That would be weird.
#no but actually when googling symptoms I have like 90% of the ‘common early symptoms’ of ms.#anyway like. whatever witch cursed me???? I’d like to be uncursed now.#I also have been having these like random spasms where I throw my arm??#the best way I know how to describe it is it’s LIKE a tic except it doesn’t repeat so I know it isn’t a tic#it’s more of a violent twitch. AND my right eyelid has been bugging out and twitching like crazy.#there are other symptoms but I really just wanted to vent#actually no the numbness in my hands and feet sucks donkey dick#there isn’t anything wrong with having ms like in a real way. it’s just when it chose to present itself is so upsetting to me#I really wish it could’ve happened after I finished my semester#this is so unfair that my future might be jeopardized just because my doctors weren’t listening to me in august#I’ve been saying this is happening and it’s LIKE my depressive episodes and LIKE my migraines and LIKE when you get really bad sinus#pressure but I’ve also been being abundantly clear that these aren’t normal symptoms for me when any of those things#I’m TOO tired for it to bed my depression. especially with everything else.#it’s not sinuses and I have had migraines ontop of it and that pain stayed constant.#and if I didn’t listen to my doctor when he was it was nothing maybe I’d be being treated already. maybe it wouldn’t have destroyed my fina#semester of undergrad. dawg I just wanted to graduate college.#long post#vent#personal#adding generic tags so people who filter long post or vent in the tags don’t have to see
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When Overwhelm Hits — Advice from ‘The Tower’
Sometimes when you think you’re finally on top, you miss the signs of something else building in the background, and it isn’t until it finally hits you that you tumble — hard.
My life has always had ups and downs, like everyone else, but I’d be lying if I said this last year especially has been typical. Drama, fatigue, stress, anxiety, things spiraling out of my control; it gets to be a lot. I thought I finally worked through it, that I finally had a handle on things, only for reality to strike me back down. I didn’t notice the warning signs, I ignored the red flags, and I hand-waved any negativity, thinking I finally truly had my footing.
It can be easy to hope for good news and positivity for so long, that you don’t want to acknowledge the hardships happening alongside it. My desire for change for the better grew to be an obsession. I was tired of struggling, so I’d grasp on to every little bit of happiness and good thing that I could, not actually working through the genuine anxiety, stress, and frustration I was feeling.
Without me consciously realizing it, my mental health was worse than I had thought. I know I’m not the first to say ‘mindfulness’ has its benefits, but boy would that have come in handy recently. Before I knew it, my tower I built came crashing down. …But to be fair, that tower was built on some shaky foundation.
‘The Tower’ is probably the most infamous card among tarot readers. While those outside of the tarot community may think of ‘The Devil’ or “Death’ as the ‘bad’ or ‘scary’ cards — for the tarot readers, it’s ‘The Tower’ we dread to see, and for understandable reasons! The meaning can be quite simple: crash and burn. Everything you know turned upside down. Life suddenly bursting through your door with all sorts of misfortune. Often one after another after another. No hope or end in sight! Everything you’ve built, gone in an instant!
But this card exists in the deck for a reason, it’s there not just to torture us (though for some, I know it can feel like that!), but to guide us. So what is there for us to learn when we have our ‘Tower’ moments? Can we actually survive the fall? Can we rebuild?
Like in most imagery, ‘The Tower’ is often struck down by another force, often lightning, suggesting outside influences in our life that have brought down our comforts. A medical bill. Water leaks in your home. Even in relationships with family or friends. Unexpected drama or an accident. The only thing we can control is ourselves, and sometimes even that doesn’t feel true.
But there’s more to this card than just the unexpected upheavals that life can bring. I want to take a moment to dive into the specific imagery of each of these different Tower cards, and see what wisdom we can gleam from them. Of course, these are my takes based on the artwork, so don’t take this as gospel, rather, use this as an opportunity to pause and reflect on what YOU see in the cards.
Green Glyphs Tarot: Very in your face about it, this card does not shy away from the shock of being not only brushed off your feet, but shaken out through your window! — as a literal hand grasps your home, has torn it from its foundation, and is ejecting all of its contents. How far is the fall? Where will you land? It remains unseen, as you plummet into the depths of the unknown. Quite a fearful depiction. But as you are in the fall, you can take this time to reflect upon this change. Perhaps you were too complacent, perhaps a shake-up was necessary, perhaps this is a test of your strength, or perhaps this upheaval can open your eyes to the world outside the safety of what you knew? Perhaps, whether you felt ready or not, this is life saying, “It’s time for you to grow.”
RWS Pocket Edition: It certainly lives up to the meaning of “upheaval”, as the people are seemingly thrown (or perhaps even leaping for safety) from the destruction of the tower. It’s a card that screams ‘pay attention’ with the shocking imagery. And not being able to see where the people are falling adds to its unease. One person appears more prepared than the other, looking forward to catch their fall, while the other seems distressed from the events that just transpired. I think it’s a balance of both, that you can find yourself in either position, and both people could also switch positions. The one in red could look back and panic, and the one in blue could look forward and brace for impact. It’s a choice for how you can react, you have the power to take control.
Celtic Dragon Tarot: This was a frightening card for me for a long time. Similar to the above cards, the artwork here is shocking and scary. The dragons appear very intimidating, powerful, and threatening. While there is a storm, the dragons are taking their own action around the tower. Are they defending it? Or participating in its destruction? There is a pile of rocks at the base, the tower might’ve been destroyed and rebuilt time and time again. I often imagine myself from the perspective of a person there watching this happen. Am I brave enough to approach? Perhaps I could be the one to rebuild the tower and try again? Or find peace with the dragons?
Celestial Tarot: (yes I caved and bought the Five Below deck! I actually quite like it, haha.) The image here at first glance was difficult for me to decipher, but as I thought more on it, I realized this tower is very different from the typical tower — it’s intact. It’s stable, upright, and balanced. The fire, another common symbol with this card, seems to be a part of the tower, not destroying it. I think this card could show that you have the ability to find stability and stand strong, despite what may be going on around you. You don’t have to fear the fire, you can use it, make it a part of you, and grow stronger with it.
That feeling of overwhelm that I’ve been experiencing lately has been screaming to be heard, and it wasn’t until I had no choice but to listen that I finally acknowledged it. Stress, frustration, anxiety, fear — these feelings don’t just go away because you want them to. They have to be seen, heard, and accepted, in order for you to start on a healthier path. You might not always see things coming, there might not always be signs, but it’s the decisions you make once that upheaval happens, how you work through it, and live with it, that really puts yourself to the test, and shows you how strong you can truly be. I know I’m not as strong as I’d like to be, but with each ‘Tower Moment’, I get myself a step closer.
What do you see in these cards? How do you feel about ‘The Tower’?
—
Thank you for reading! I hope to continue to blog about tarot, mental health, and similar topics. Feel free to follow, or support me on Ko-Fi.
-LR🐇
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The Dark
The Glymlit Dark was a cursed place. It had been so, even before war touched this land. Constricted by aetherial darkness, the sun had to sway here. It was here that the final climactic battle between the Doman Liberation Front and the Garlemald Empire was fought, one bloody meter at a time.
A dozen aetheric flares burst overhead, breaking the eternal night with eerie crimson light. Somewhere, from a distant barricade built upon a scarred hillside, came a cacophony of gunfire that laid waste to a company of advancing infantry below. The survivors scampered into the moonscape of artificial craters, returning fire. Their tiny muzzle flashes gave way to tracers that spiraled into the sky.
Kaijin watched from his stronghold, musing how much they looked like fireflies. Relatively safe from the war and the other worldly carrion outside that feasted on the war dead, Kaijin's squad made their home in the skeleton of an old battered building. In another life, this structure had been a halfway house, a light in the darkness to see travelers on their way to brighter places. Now it had become a makeshift fortress of sorts, fortified with haphazard barricades and sandbags.
Yuka sat atop her high perch on the second floor where a makeshift parapet had been constructed. From her vantage point, she scanned the grounds below with her sniper rifle. She hadn't slept since they arrived here and she didn't intend to until the day she left. Yuka hadn't counted on being here for three days. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by fatigue and stress and it took all of her willpower to remain focused.
She tensed for a moment when she felt a presence nearby but relaxed immediately when it turned out to be Kaijin.
"You look troubled," Kaijin remarked to his second in command, crossing his arms and leaning against the parapet wall beside her. His eyes were shrouded in the gloom, barely visible in the darkness outside.
"Who isn't?" Yuka replied curtly. "There's something else out there."We've all seen it. Something lurking around the edges of this place. Watching us. Waiting for an opportunity to strike."
Kaijin shrugged. "You lot are overthinking it. That's just the Ashkin, probably the previous inhabitants of this place who haven't been properly put to rest. It happens sometimes when you hunker down in fresh ruins in the middle of a warzone. I'm sure they'll leave us be."
"You're sure?" Yuka grunted. "They may have left us alone for now but what if they attack? What then? We can't shoot ghosts now can we?"
"I won't let anything happen to you." Kaijin replied calmly. "Trust me. It will be fine."
Yuka paused for a moment, considering his words, then shook her head. "You know this place is different. You saw how the squad reacted to it when we first got here. And I've been thinking: isn't it odd that the Garleans would leave a strongpoint like this unoccupied? It's like they knew something was wrong and steered clear."
"You're overthinking it," Kaijin repeated.
“I trust you Corporal,” Yuka replied formally, “but honestly the troops are spooked and on edge.”
The squad leader frowned. “Fine,” he conceded. “Something is out there, and if it makes all of you feel better, I'll deal with it."
He left without waiting for her response, slipping away while Yuka returned dutifully to her vigil.
***
Kaijin placed his rifle on the ground, followed by his combat webbing and a folded jacket of the Doman Liberation Front. Patting the insignia of his fledgling state, he rose again to his feet before his squad. "I'm going out," he announced, rolling up his sleeves and fastening his suspenders.
“Corporal?” One of his subordinates asked in response.
Kaijin looked at him and tested the reassuring weight of his katana on his hip. “Do your jobs. Stay alive. If I don’t come back, don’t come looking for me. Redistribute my ammo and look to Private First Class Toyhama for instruction.” he ordered before climbing between a barricade and disappearing from view.
He prowled the perimeter of the stronghold slowly, observing his surroundings carefully as the war continued off in the distance. But beneath the chatter of gunfire, and the soft glow of distant explosions, he saw clues of his quarry. In the gray mud of Glymlit Dark were the half eaten corpses of Imperial soldiers. Kaijin approached cautiously, following a trail of half-rotten viscera round the corner of the structure until he saw a battered cellar door.
“...Cold…”
Kaijin heard a whisper as the doors to the cellar began to rise, revealing a thing in the shape of a man who had no face. In the place of its features was a singular elongated mouth, which it had used to feast on the banquet of flesh provided to it by the war. The squad leader had seen enough Ashkin of its sort in his time not to be unnerved.
“...Hungry…”
The thing repeated as it mimicked the drawing of breath, as if trying to remember what it used to be beyond the needs it could no longer sate. Kaijin rose slowly from a crouch, exerting his presence for the benefit of the Ashkin.
“...Guest?” it said, punctuating its groans and turning its eyeless face towards the soldier.
“Guest.” Kaijin replied. “Taking shelter from the storm.”
“...Storm?” it said, looking to the sky filled with the lights of Imperial airships and the tracers from anti-airship guns. “Storm. Come. Inside.”
The Ashkin ushered him down towards the cellar where the corpses of Garlean soldiers were butchered and piled high like a larder. Kaijin averted his eyes.
“...Food?” it asked as it shut the door above them.
“No thank you,” he said as he activated his aetheric torch, filling the putrid basement with cold white light. Kaijin sighed, watching as the creature went about its business, groaning as it tried to eat its fill, tearing away at a corpse in the corner of the room. He pitied the creature, and pitied what he knew he had to do. “What is your name, innkeeper?”
The thing paused. “Name…? Innkeeper…?”
“When the war started, trade must have stopped and shipments of food would have stopped coming this way. You starved to death.”
“...Starved?”
Kaijin nodded. “That’s why you’re always cold, always hungry. I knew others like you, long ago. Do you remember?”
The Ashkin brought its skeletal fingers to its head as it began to let out a howl. “Unfair! It wasn’t fair! They said they’d be here in two weeks, then a month went by, there was nowhere to go!”
“It’s time to move on,” Kaijin said, “your time of misery has long passed. Do not prolong it.”
It twisted its head to face him, now animated with a new found vigor. “No! I have all I can eat now, look! Would you like some?!”
“I said, no thank you.”
“It’s rude to refuse hospitality,” it smiled with a predatory grin. “Come. Eat.”
Kajin sighed. He was afraid it might come down to this. “I’m not hungry.”
“Liar!” The thing in the shape of a man came at him with a Garlean flank in its bony hand, intent on force feeding its guest.
Kaijin stood his ground. With a deadly calm, he rested the palm of his hand flat against the hilt on his sword. A hingan katana of foreign construction, sheathed in teak and mahogany and decorated with peranakan carvings. In an instant, the blade glowed a deep blue of corrupted aether that flowed into his hand.
May this one day fulfill the promise we made to each other.
He sidestepped the charging Ashkin, drew his sword and brought it down upon the screeching creature. It writhed, fell, and with the corrupted glow permeating its entire being melted away without a trace.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
To his host.
To himself.
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#2 Mumming with Disability- Top 5 hacks with babies
We all know the newborn phase can be the most beautiful, crazy, emotional, messy but rewarding roller coaster of experience ever. Especially for first time mums, who had no concept of the true reality of sleep deprivation, the immensity of the feeling of pressure to get it right every time, or the depths of despair caused from raging ever-changing hormones. I don’t care who you are, I believe ALL mums need help, therefore, ALL mums need MumLife Hacks! More specifically for us though, ability friendly ones…
After the birth of my second cheeky gremlin, my body was so nutritionally deficient that the poor thing spiralled into a hardcore crumpled MS MESS. SO here are some of the little mum hacks I came across during my second newborn phase. Some of them would probably have been super helpful with regular 'first time mum-ing' after my eldest was born, but never mind! Maybe some of these will help to make the crazy more manageable!
Nappy Change Time! - its all about minimising unnecessary movement back and forth. Conserve your energy!
When you are setting up your babies room, choose a change-table that is height appropriate to you, so you can change them sitting down. I used an office chair on wheels for a while there, but do what's safe according to your level of ability obviously. Another option I found great was to set up a ground level change station in the play room! Then I didn’t need to go far when the PooFairy struck again… and again!
Also be sure to set up your nursery change station so that ALL the things are in easy reach. Choose a baby table with under-storage, and get creative with wall hangings!
Wipes. Nappies. Clothes. Bin Bags. Powders and Creams. Nail clippers! Yes, them too, baby nails are like razors!
Feeding Time! Extra comfort
2. Again, foresight is key here. Make sure you have your water bottle and little snacks already on hand if you're breastfeeding, and choose a very comfortable nursing chair with pillows to support your arms. If your fatigue is anything like mine, babies are unexpectedly heavy and twisting yourself into a position to get a good "latch" is a MISSION.
The 'nursing chair' I chose was actually a recliner, this helped with the pain and swelling from oedema, I could put my feet all the way up and elevation may assist with lymphatic drainage. It was also great during cuddle time! If you can't do a recliner, at least get a foot-stool.
I need rest…
3. So this one is so hard for mums everywhere. Even moreso for us. We often begin the day fatigued on a good day, and it just gets harder as the day goes on. Then put chronic sleep deprivation and probable malnutrition on top, and we have a hormonal Featherbrained ZOMBIE-Fairy. In fact this is such a big topic I might have to do a whole post on just this one thing, but for now ill say this…
I have learned there is some truth in the whole "sleep when the baby sleeps", even though its ridiculous and feels completely unachievable, counterintuitive and counterproductive.
I feel like it should be more along the lines of… 'when baby is asleep, either Eat, Sleep, or Meditate!'
Don't push yourself to clean or do anything beyond what is absolutely vital and wear you already exhausted self into the ground. This time needs to be spent pouring your energy into your own cup, it's nourishing time, not work time.
Getting Dressed?
4. With dexterity issues, its so important to choose your kids clothes wisely. Whoever invented onesies with 10 thousand tiny buttons or even snaps was an A-hole. Onesies with Zippers are your friend!!! Laces and ribbon ties are obviously not.
Having baby wear a bib while breastfeeding or regular feeding is helpful for drips and makes for less frequent wardrobe changes. There are great stretchy cotton ones that go straight over the head in one flowing movement, and others that have a little velcro patch that does up behind the neck, both of which I found to be good.
Got Stuff?
5. Time to DOWNsize the amount of stuff you have. If you're anything like me, you have somehow accumulated enough baby stuff to clothe and entertain FIVE kids when you only have two! Less stuff means less to clean, organise and put away. Keep your fav's though and have a sentimental box for you to go through on the moments when you are finding yourself asking 'why the ACTUAL f*** did I agree to this again?'. We've all been there.
Hopefully some of these have been helpful for the baby mummas out there! I have another post coming for Disability Friendly Hacks for the toddler age coming up soon!
Have you got any hacks you'd like to share? Send them through and I'll put them up!
Embrace your featherbrain… lists are your friend.
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Posting this for my reference bc the vent app is dying its a long rant sorry
I was up til 3 am so I am probably gonna pass out again soon but I had a lot of fun last night
But also like that was. In spite of my roommate
So like last weekend, when I tried shrooms for the first time, this roommate(fiances ex-ish)had a whole Problem basically where they violated my fiances boundaries and space by biting them super hard and then repeatedly trying to pressure them into giving them a kiss so my fiance was like I need to not try shrooms for the first time with this person bc they make me feel unsafe and they communicated that with the person. Then when my fiance and I took the shrooms my roommate was sitting in the living room crying loudly for almost the entire night and made me have a pretty bad trip. Like there were good and fun moments but most of my trip was spent trying to stave off anxiety so I wasn't ruining my fiances trip worrying abt the roommate and then when my fiance came down before me I literally spiraled jnto a really intense panic attack and like roommate was told I got sent into a panic attack bc I was worrying abt them
So tell me why. Yesterday. I had an lsd tab left and was planning to take it and have fun with my fiance for the night(we did in spite of this it was great). And bc my fiance hadn't hung out with roommate all day(fiance has chronic fatigue which is exacerbated by stress so they've been sleeping a lot of the time lately)and then didn't do a group smoke with me and them when I got home from work they were like loudly crying at night once again. And like they sent my fiance a message asking if they weren't coming out anymore last night and my fiance was clear that like I had just dropped acid and th3y were watching over me and stuff and TELL ME WHY this bitch started crying LOUDER and I almost started freaking out again(luckily acid isn't as strong as shrooms to me or I would have had a horrible fucking time!!!). My fiance took me outside to smoke more and I was able to get it under control but like when we came back inside to like. Resume what we were doing I literally had to take a few minutes to get myself back into it even tho I really wanted to do it bc while we were getting back into it my mind was legit starting to race and be anxious again abt roommate so I'm just upset at them.
On one level I feel guilty that they came out here and their relationship didn't work out and I feel like they blame me for it bc I was reacting unhealthy to them moving in bc I never wanted them to. But on ANOTHER level this person gave me bad vibes the second I talked to them the first time. They have a huge lying problem. They don't respect my fiances boundaries. They lied abt being okay with noise so they could sleep in our living room and now i gotta tiptoe in the main areas of the house all the time which sets me off bc of the violent trap house I used to live in. They lied abt coming up here to help my fiance and take care of them and instead are incompetent at everything and want my fiance to do everything for them. They also are fucking weird abt food they won't put their name on food they want to save and will say it's for everyone but then they'll be upset that people eat the stuff they said was for everyone and didn't mark??? They keep tallies of everything like that and apparently they were bitching to my fiance abt how I never buy popcorn bc I've eaten some of what they bought BECAUSE THEY LITERALLY SAID THEY BOUGHT IT FOR ME TOO AND PUT NO FUCKING EXPECTATION OIT THERE THAT I COMPENSAT3 THEM OR ANYTHING so I'm just not gonna eat it anymore idk I'm anxious about what I eat I'm anxious about what I do with my time bc this person has decided my fiance and I are the only sources of social stimulation they'll ever seek out I literally feel guilty for wanting quality time with my fiance
Like we had planned for last night a few days in advance and I was really looking forward to it and then I just ended up feeling guilty abt doing it and being like oh no we didn't warn them when it's like they aren't. A PART OF MY FUCKING RELATIONSHIP. They don't need to know what we're doing!!! I'm so sick of them dude and I feel like I have no right to be bc the first bit of them living here was hell bc I was so toxic and having emotional regulation problems from being forced to live with someone I didn't know and then found out I didn't like but I'm in therapy now and have been really improving myself a lot and they're just. Talking to their therapist about TV shows and wanting to avoid therapy altogether otherwise. My fiance took a break from their r3lationshop bc this bitch is so codependent and wanted way more from my fiance than they could give - which they literally told them- and now whenever there's even the slightest hint at them acting like they're in a relationship again they think it's a free for all t disrespect their boundaries and try to act like they're dating again without them ever having worked on their shit. I'm worried and I'm stressed and I don't trust this person in my house. There's no feasible way to get them the fuck away from me for AT LEAST another fucking year so idek what I'm supposed to do here! I hate living like this and I hate feeling like I'm being held hostage by this person's emotions and codependency issues and I hate feeling like I can't feel this way bc I'm working through my own issues like maybe I deserve to have them ruin my trip every time I have one lmao
Now they're hungover apparently and I'm like u really drank a bunch of alcohol and made yourself super fucjing sick because my fiance didn't hang out with you for one. Fucking. Day.
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#warning: vent in tags#ive had a rough couple of days#it if the Fatigue came back first and it all just spiraled down from there#or if i got the Sad first and then the fatigue followed#anyhow ive been just lying in bed ngl#and thinking that despite me feeling actually decent for the first time in years#i am also worse in some aspects#like on the inside of my body my head i feel better#but im also so apathetic#i stopped drawing#and actually i stopped doing anything besides work related things and being in bed#so idk if im really 'better'??#also i have been kind of left alone again#bc ive been doing well#my therapy finished and stuff#bc the therapist idk didnt know what to reallt do?#but neither did i#and you know how it is with psychiatrist#they just give you meds and heya see you in half a year#ive also stopped talking to my family that much bc we have issues with my ill brother again#just like before#so like#idk im going back to my old ways?#except i also feel like i can't talk to my friends becssue i dont want to complain anymore#like im only going to bring people down#so yea#i will probably feel better soon its just Like That tonight
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Hello, congrats on 4K!! I’m relatively new to this lmao but I wanted to request a prompt with Gojo? Any other character is cool too.
I had this outfit in mind. A cold winter evening, a black off-the-shoulder sweater, checkered trousers and fuzzy socks for a casual date.
The prompt I had in mind was: Gojo’s had a rough day (+ If you’re a manga reader, maybe something concerning Geto comes up). He gets quieter and more somber when he’s exhausted. Reader finds a gramophone and a few vinyls while cleaning. Reader sets up a cute nap date for the two of them. They put on a vinyl, (I had Mayonaka no door in mind but whatever you think suits is cool too) lay on the floor on a fluffy rug as reader hums the songs, runs their hands through his hair and helps calm him down as they talk about his day. [Text prompt could be “I’m actually really scared, but if you’re holding my hand, maybe not as much” or “suddenly all the love songs were about you”]
Thank you and CONGRATULATIONS once again!
thank you honey! and this was such a cute idea i enjoyed writing this so much <333 enjoy! obvious manga spoilers but it doesn’t go in-depth!
pairing: gojo x reader
you could never stop worrying about gojo who’s only been sent on more missions, something you think that’ll lessen once the higher-ups learn of geto suguru’s defection. but they were the higher-ups, playing off their sorcerers like nothing but pawn with the excuse that a new sorcerer is born every new day.
satoru also played the part though, seemingly taking on more than he can handle just so he can distract himself from everything.
your lover tends to do that even well into his adult years, where you see how his personality fades off into nothingness before it’s overtaken by his childish, carefree one, acting like nothing’s happened. but there’s days where it gets unbearable, and in previous years where feelings were fresh and secret, gojo had no sanctuary to bring his heavy heart home. until you, and until now.
you’re lost in the thoughts of how close they used to be, from exchanging pointless jokes in class to making you the centre of their teasing antics, that you don’t notice the click of your apartment door and the drag of satoru’s feet. it’s laced with intense cursed energy, his whole being, too fatigued to even put a cap on his energy after the mission.
“hey,” was the simple reply that came out of his mouth, sinking your heart further with how he’s been acting lately. “so geto is acting up again,” he grumbles, rubbing at his eyes behind the bandages like it’ll help, possibly plagued with the amount of bodies that he’s seen, and while you’ll never learn how bad it is out there as a grade one sorcerer, you had your fair share of death.
geto defecting was your first one, and gojo’s spiral might be your second.
hunched over the counter, satoru stares into empty space until you’re coming up behind him to rub his back gently, smiling gently when you find that his infinity activation seems to be improving since the last time he’s complained to you about it. around you, cursed energy hums as his barrier serves as white noise.
“i’m not one to tell you to dismiss your feelings,” softly, your hands brush off the bandages where the blueness of his eyes takes over anything and everything in the room, becoming your centrepiece that you adore, “but maybe you shouldn’t think too much.”
it’s cheap to tell him to just forget about geto, his best friend, right after a mission that might be related to the man himself, but he has no protest against it when you drag him to your room.
it’s set up pretty lacklusterly, rushed from when you had found a gramophone and a few vinyl records from way back. as a surprise, you gathered cushions and blankets near you before gojo could come back in the hopes that it’ll comfort him just a little.
the needle that travels on the grooves of the vinyl record already plays a soft song, but you can’t make it out over the sound of gojo — as meek and small as his voice was —asking about your set-up quietly.
“it’s a date! a nap date if you will,” grinning was all you could do, unable to contain your excitement before pulling him into the place and showing your outfit, “i even changed for this.”
there’s no words for seeing satoru smile after a long day as he walks up to you, lean body bending down to engulf you in a hug. you hear a small chuckle beside your ear, and an affectionate squeeze to your butt before he lets himself go.
you don’t mind that he’s just a little sweaty and clingy, hanging off your back as you change the records into something more traditional, albeit a bit more upbeat. even if gojo isn’t in the mood to prance around the room or twirl you around, you’re more than content to settle on the floor with him in your arms.
“so?” hands naturally tangle themselves in his hair, still soft and shiny from the night before. satoru hums into your neck, hidden like a child from the world’s troubles like it should’ve been from the start, but as all sorcerers do, they grow up too fast, they’re made to receive bloodshed and death willingly.
the hums continue, and you discover he’s humming along to the song that’s playing. it was a mix between the melody and the lyrics, and although it was a good twenty years since he’s heard this song, he still remembers it like yesterday.
(stay with me… 口ぐせを言いながら。二人の瞬間を抱いてまだ忘れず、大事にしていた)
just like that, all the tension in him is released as you hold him for as long as the silence stretches, levelled, even breaths escaping his mouth never comparing to the adrenaline he feels on the battlefield. he plays with your comfy sweater, rolling the thread in between his fingers.
“so...?” you ask again, afraid that you might interrupt his serenity but it only takes a few moments before he answers. you can feel him swallow.
“i’m... scared, sweetheart. i’m actually really scared,” he emerges from the embrace, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “but if you’re holding my hand, maybe not as much.”
it’s often that satoru mutters sappy things to you, but this felt in depth and almost in fear — something gojo had learned to ignore when he was alone. now that he had you, it would break him all over again just like suguru did the first time.
“i’ll hold your hand as long as you want me to,” you mumble out, offering a smile when he takes it in his hand. there’s a clear difference in sizes, making your heart more than fuzzy when he closes his fingers around yours. it was made to fit, you were sure.
gojo satoru was many things, but no, he was never himself, he had to be a strong friend for shoko, a determined teacher that was soon to take in his first students, a renowned sorcerer, never himself.
stripped of all satoru’s names was when he could be with you, where he was yours, and yours alone, and you made sure he knew that.
event rules here, request here
#4dtk’s 4k event#waffle-samosa#jujutsu kaisen#i loved this request thank you <333#jujutsu kaisen scenarios#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk fluff#jjk imagines#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk gojo#jjk x you#gojou satoru#gojo fluff#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x y/n
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The Sweetest Devotion
Summary: Pregnancy is hard work. The fatigue, the morning sickness and the strange new aches and pains are bad enough, but the nerves about how a new baby will change your family dynamic can be just as tough. Luckily, for Chris and Whitney, the excitement and love they have for their little baby on the way far outweighs any struggles that could pop up and they’re hopeful that Grayson will feel the same as they navigate their way through the first expansion of their little family.
Chris Evans x OFC
18+
Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series
Part Seven
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Part Eight
Girl.
A girl
We were having a girl.
The holidays had come and gone rather peacefully. We embraced our final Christmas celebration as a family of three and spent plenty of time with as many of our friends and family as we could fit in, but January soon came around and so did my ultrasound appointment - the one that would determine the gender of the newest addition to our family. The morning of the big day was quite chaotic as we tried to get Grayson ready for school while also trying to manage the excitement we were both feeling at the thought of getting to see our little baby again, but as soon as the appointment started and our baby popped up on the screen it felt like the whole world slowed down.
The heartbeat was strong, the baby was active and developing right on track, and it was a girl.
Chris was practically giddy when the doctor gave us the news, fiercely gripping my hand and fighting back the tears that were welling in his eyes and, at first, I matched his enthusiasm. I was fighting back my own tears of joy as my mind raced with excitement about all the possibilities that the news presented us with. The potential for that strong mother-daughter bond, the fun girly activities that Grayson had no interest in, the thought of Chris having tea parties and playing princesses - there were plenty of things that had me practically bursting with excitement - but there was an undercurrent of fear bubbling below the surface and by the time we were walking to the car, as the news sunk in, I was filled with anxiety.
I hadn’t put much thought into whether we were having a boy or a girl because I didn’t think I particularly had a preference - as long as the baby was healthy and happy, that was what was important - but now that we knew, I felt less sure that I didn’t care. We had a boy already, I knew what to do with a boy - how to bond with him, things that he might be interested in, how boys think and play and communicate - but a girl was a whole new ballgame, a whole new list of struggles and things to learn, and I wasn’t sure that I was ready for that challenge.
I could feel myself spiraling into panic, but as I looked over at Chris once we were settled in the car and I saw the huge grin of pure joy on his face, I tried to quiet my anxiety.
“I can’t believe we’re having a girl,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I would have been happy either way, but it’ll be nice to have a girl to balance things out.”
“You think so?” I questioned, smiling at his enthusiasm despite my nerves. “Don’t you think it would be kinda easier to have another boy? Since we know what to expect already?”
“Nah,” Chris shrugged. “Even if we had a boy, he could be completely different to Grayson and I think it’ll be fun to see the differences and similarities with a girl.”
“And you’ll have someone to watch the Little Mermaid with.”
My words were teasing, but Chris’ eyes lit up.
“Yes! Exactly!”
His eager agreement was followed immediately by several rambled plans and ideas for all the things he wanted to do with or teach our daughter and his exuberant delight was contagious. I couldn’t help but giggle and go along with all of his wild daydreams, but as I let my hand rest on my stomach and felt our daughter moving under my touch, I still couldn’t shake my worries from my mind.
I really didn’t want to damper Chris’ mood by sharing any of my reservations and I knew he had some work that had to be done when we got home so - feeling the need to clear my head and try to find a way to work through my nerves - I headed out again almost as soon as we got home. I told Chris that I needed to get some things from the store before I picked up Grayson and headed out for a drive to work through my thoughts.
Half an hour later, I realized that my solitude had had the opposite effect and I’d managed to work myself into an even more anxious state. I knew that I needed to find someone who I could share my concerns with and talk through the doubts I was having, but I surprised even myself when I ended up parked outside of Lisa’s house. Desperate for someone with experience to ease my worries, it made sense for me to turn to her and I was relieved that some part of my brain still seemed to be thinking clearly. I was also relieved that Lisa was usually home on Friday mornings and her car was parked in the driveway so - before I could change my mind and leave with my fears still festering - I climbed out of the car and headed towards the house.
“Whitney, hi,” Lisa greeted me, the surprise on her face clear as she opened the door. “I wasn’t expecting you, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I assured her. “Better than fine actually, but I was wondering if you had a few minutes to chat? I’d love to pick your brain about a few things.”
“Of course! I’m here anytime you’d like to talk,” she smiled. “Come on in.”
She led me into the kitchen and offered me a variety of drinks as I settled at the table. A moment later she joined me with two glasses of water, setting one down in front of me before sitting on the other side of the table.
“So,” she started. “What’s up?”
“Well, we had an ultrasound this morning,” I smiled. “And we found out that we’re having a girl.”
A grin immediately burst onto Lisa’s face.
“Oh my gosh, that’s great! Congratulations!”
“Thank you. We’re pretty excited,” I admitted. “But, if I’m being honest, I’m kinda freaking out a little bit.”
The smile stayed on Lisa’s face as she sipped her water.
“Freaking out about what?”
“Just, like, a bunch of things. Like, uh…” I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts before taking a deep breath and blurting out the root cause of my concern. “I just don’t want to let her down.”
“What makes you think that would happen?”
Lisa was always easy to talk to and I was comforted by the lack of judgement in her voice.
“I think it just feels like more pressure,” I confessed. “When I was pregnant with Grayson I read something about the strongest role model in a child’s life being the same-sex parent and while I know that I’m just as important to Grayson as Chris is and that Chris will be just as important to this baby as me, I feel like suddenly I have a huge responsibility on my shoulders and I don’t know if I can live up to it.”
Lisa nodded and took a moment to ponder my words before responding.
“Well, first of all, I think that belief isn’t necessarily true. There may be some things that girls learn from their mothers, but I don’t think the pressure should ever be on one parent more than the other to be a good role model,” she informed me. “But even if it was, you absolutely can live up to that responsibility, Whitney. You’re an amazing mother and it comes so naturally to you.”
There was something about how genuine her tone was that put a smile on my face.
“Thank you, it’s sweet of you to say that, but I know I’ve made some questionable decisions in my life and while I don’t think there’s many things that I would change, I don’t think I’d want our daughter to follow in some of my footsteps.”
“Like getting pregnant from a one night stand with a man who then broke your heart?”
Her words were teasing, but I felt a blush rise over my cheeks as I nodded.
“Yes, but in my defense, I didn’t know it was going to be a one night stand.”
“Oh, I know,” Lisa chuckled. “I wish you could have heard the stern talking to that I gave Chris when he told me what he’d done. I was absolutely furious.”
A laugh fell from my lips as I could imagine that scenario very easily. Chris had briefly told me how it went down, but as loving and kind as Lisa was, she wasn’t one to mince words when she felt like something needed to be said and I was fairly certain that she was harder on Chris than he ever let on.
“I appreciate your support,” I assured her before adding what I’d told his friends too. “But I think, however difficult it was at the time, it made us stronger. The time apart helped us know how badly we wanted to be together and the constant miscommunication that led to that situation in the first place has helped us learn how to talk to each other now.”
Lisa nodded with a knowing smile on her face.
“That kind of proves the next point I was going to make,” she informed me. “Everyone makes questionable decisions in life. Sometimes it works out for us and sometimes we crash and burn, but those risky choices help us grow as people. Your daughter might not follow exactly in your footsteps, but no matter what you and Chris do, there will be times in her life where she does something downright stupid and all you can do is help her through it.”
I smiled at Lisa’s honesty, but deep down I knew that it was true. It was nerve wracking being a parent and no one ever wanted to see their child go through anything challenging, but when I reflected on my own life I did have to admit that - within reason - those challenges are what help shape people.
“You’re right,” I agreed after a moment of thought, feeling a hint of relief at the edge of my panic. “Were you scared when you found out that Carly was a girl?”
“Absolutely,” Lisa admitted. “I was terrified. The world can be a tough place for girls and women, but Robert and I helped both our girls through it the same way that I’m sure your parents helped you and the same way that I’m sure you and Chris will help your daughter too.”
“It just seems so scary,” I sighed. “And what if she just doesn’t like me? I see how close you are with Carly and Shanna and I have a really good relationship with my mom. I want that with her, but what if we just don’t bond?”
“I’m sure you will. Why wouldn’t you?”
“I dunno,” I shrugged. “What if our personalities just clash?”
“They may at times,” Lisa warned, but the soft smile on her face was comforting. “But I’m sure overall, you two will be just fine. I disagree and butt heads with my kids all the time - Chris in particular, if I’m honest - but at the end of the day if you give them lots of love and a bit of understanding then things usually work out okay. I’m sure you’ve found that with Grayson.”
“That’s true, I have,” I nodded. “He’s pretty great, but he definitely has his tough moments too.”
“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Lisa chuckled. “But you just find a way to work through it.”
“I know,” I sighed again. “This whole pregnancy has just had my anxiety on edge. I was thinking about it on my way here and I think I just feel a lot more pressure because we planned this one. I know that sounds so stupid, but with Grayson it was more like ‘okay, we’re in this whether we like it or not and we’re just going to have to do our best’ and I felt like I was allowed to be clueless because I was so unprepared.”
“But with this baby you feel like you went into the situation knowingly so you have to have it together right from the start?” Lisa waited for me to nod before continuing. “No one expects that of you! Every child is different and has different challenges. It’s impossible to have it all together from the beginning, but I know that you’ll figure it out with this baby just like you did with Gray.”
“I hope so and I hope you don’t think that I’m not happy about this baby,” I rushed to clarify. “I am really happy! And I’m thrilled that it’s a girl. It just gets overwhelming sometimes, I guess.”
“That’s understandable,” Lisa assured me. “You’re going through a big change right now, there’s a lot to think about and it’s easy to get caught up in your fears, but I know that you will be fine. You really are a great mom, you’ve built such an amazing relationship with Grayson and he just adores you so I have no doubt that the same will be true with this little baby too.”
I let out a deep breath of relief as I flashed her a smile.
“Thanks, Lisa. I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you, but I needed to get it off my chest and you were the most qualified person I could think of.”
“I’m happy you reached out,” she assured me. “I know it must be hard with your family being on the other side of the country, but you’re family to us too now and I’m happy you feel comfortable talking to me about things like this.”
“I’m so grateful that you’re willing to listen. I honestly couldn’t have asked to be marrying into a better family.”
“Well, we’re very lucky to have you too,” Lisa smiled as a twinkle shined in her eye. “But anyway, if your worries are somewhat eased for now, let’s talk about happier things. Like, have you two picked out a name yet?”
I laughed and shook my head, but I really did feel like she’d put me at ease. The sheer panic that I’d been feeling by the time we’d gotten home from our appointment had dulled into a mild apprehension and as we transitioned our conversation into all the fun and subtle differences between having a boy versus a girl I felt much more like everything was going to be just fine.
-
When I got home with Grayson after picking him up from preschool, Chris and Dodger eagerly met us at the door. Chris scooped Grayson up into his arms and asked him about his day as I happily greeted Dodger before we sent both boys into the kitchen with the promise of a snack. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Chris pulled me into his arms before I could follow them and I relaxed into his embrace until he spoke.
“Are you feeling better?”
I leaned back to look at him with my shock probably written all over my face.
“Did your mom call you?”
“My mom?” Chris chuckled as he shook his head. “No, but it was obvious that something was bothering you. You ran out of here lookin’ pretty panicked and you claimed that you were going to get groceries, but you’ve come home without any.”
He shot me a smirk as he spoke and I matched it.
“What if they’re in the car?”
“Are they?”
“No,” I admitted. “I was panicking a little bit, but I ended up at your mom’s place and we had a really nice conversation. She calmed me down completely.”
That information put a big smile on Chris’ face as he pulled me even closer to his body.
“She’s pretty great at that, isn’t she?” He murmured, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I am,” I assured him. “And I’m really excited that we’re having a girl. I just needed a moment to wrap my head around it.”
“I get it, it’s all good,” he smiled. “To be honest, I’m freakin’ out a bit now. I have no idea what girls like and what if she wants to watch Frozen all the time? It’s my least favourite Disney movie!”
I snorted out a laugh at his obviously very serious concerns and slipped out of his grasp.
“I dunno, I guess you’ll just have to let it go.”
I shrugged and tried to play it cool, but as Chris chuckled and cringed, I couldn’t help but giggle at my own joke.
“Funny, Winnie, very funny,” he shook his head. “Just wait until you’re doing Elsa braids all day long, then we’ll see who’s laughing.”
“Unless she’s a daddy’s girl and only wants you to do it.”
The grin on Chris’ face shifted into one of pride at the thought.
“I would do it happily, but I’ll brace myself for the disappointed sighs and claims that Mama does it better,” he teased. “Anyway, should we tell Gray the news?”
“I guess so,” I smiled. “Do you think he’s going to be super disappointed?”
“Maybe a little, but he’ll get over it,” Chris shrugged. “I think he’ll like having a sister and it’ll be good for him in the long run. I think having sisters definitely helped me understand women a bit better.”
“That’s true and I’m sure she’ll adore him and want him to teach her everything he knows even if it’s not ‘girly’ things,” I nodded, rubbing a hand over my growing bump as my heart clenched at the thought of Grayson supporting his sibling and passing on all his knowledge. “Gosh, I really can’t wait, Chris.”
He looked at me with glassy eyes and I knew that he was thinking the same thing as I was. It was scary to expand our family, but I knew it would be worth it and I was so excited about all the new memories that we would get to create.
“I can’t wait either,” he agreed, taking my hand in his and lifting it to place a kiss on my knuckles before flashing me a smirk. “Let’s go ruin Grayson’s day.”
A laugh burst from my lips as I protested his choice of words and let him lead me into the kitchen. Grayson was sitting at the table, waiting patiently for the snack that we’d promised so we sat down to join him.
“So, Grayson,” Chris started. “We got some news today that we wanted to share with you.”
“Oh?” He smiled at us. “What is it?”
I glanced at Chris before answering.
“We found out that the baby is a girl!”
Grayson stared at us for a moment, his eyes flitting from me to Chris and back again before he shook his little head and eventually blurted out his response.
“Oh, fuck.”
The sound of such a word leaving Grayson’s mouth had me shocked, but his tone and perfect delivery had me biting my lip to hold back a laugh as Chris jumped into action.
“Hey, whoa, that is not a word that you should be using, buddy.”
Grayson’s brow furrowed in what appeared to be genuine confusion.
“But Mama says it all the time!”
My jaw dropped at that claim as Chris burst out laughing, shaking his head at me.
“I do not,” I protested. “When do I say that, Gray?”
“A lot,” he insisted. “When you drop stuff or when we’re late.”
Chris clutched his chest as he laughed while I huffed. I always tried to be careful with my language around Grayson and I thought I was fairly successful, but he’d clearly heard it somewhere and if he was armed with examples of when I’d used it then I knew he was probably right.
“Well, I shouldn’t have done that,” I admitted. “It’s not a nice word and even though grown-ups say it sometimes when they get really frustrated, it’s important that you don’t say it too because it can hurt people’s feelings, okay?”
“Okay, Mama,” he nodded. “I’ll try.”
I smiled at him as Chris finally got his laughter under control and refocused our conversation.
“Having a sister isn’t a bad thing, Gray,” he insisted. “I have two, remember? And we have lots of fun together.”
“Maybe,” Grayson sighed. “But girls don’t like dinosaurs, girls just like princesses.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “Some girls like princesses, but some like dinosaurs too. Girls like lots of things.”
Grayson’s brow furrowed into a worried little expression as he looked at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I smiled. “I’m sure she’ll love for you to teach her all you know about dinosaurs and everything that you like.”
He seemed to be quite soothed by my assurances as he nodded his head.
“Okay,” he finally decided. “It’s okay that it’s a girl.”
Chris and I chuckled at his resigned agreement and I stood up to make him his snack, pausing briefly to kiss the top of his head.
“I’m glad that you’re okay with it,” I smiled as I moved towards the fridge. “Are you hungry too, Chris?”
“Hmm, what were you thinking of making?”
I rolled my eyes at his answer, but turned to Grayson.
“What do you want, Gray?”
“Peanut butter and jelly!”
“Okay,” I nodded. “We can do that. Maybe with some carrot sticks and hummus?”
Grayson eagerly agreed and Chris shot me a smirk.
“I think I’ll just steal some of Grayson’s.”
“No!” Grayson protested, a scowl sliding onto his face. “I don’t want to share!”
I could tell that Chris was just winding him up and I turned away to hide my amusement and start preparing his lunch.
“But I’m not hungry enough to eat a whole sandwich,” Chris argued. “Can I just have a few bites of yours? And maybe a couple of carrot sticks?”
“No, Daddy,” Grayson said firmly. “You can have your own. Mama, I don’t want to share!”
“Not even one bite?” I teased, amused by how he so fiercely hated sharing any of his food. He’d been like that all this life and considering how generous and kind he was about almost everything else, I’d always found it funny. However, as he frantically shook his head, I took pity on him. “Okay, buddy, you don’t have to share even one bite. If Daddy wants some food, I can make him his own sandwich.”
Grayson smiled as Chris sighed dramatically and reluctantly agreed, informing me that he didn’t want a sandwich and promising not to steal any of Gray’s. Once I’d made lunch and sat down with them, I brought up something Chris’ mom had mentioned as Grayson ate.
“Now that we know it’s a girl, we should start thinking about what to name her.”
“That’s true,” Chris smiled. “Any ideas?”
“I like the name Isla,” I mused, thinking back to the baby name book I’d recently skimmed through. “But I think I prefer longer names so we can shorten it to something else like Grayson and Gray.”
Chris nodded in agreement as he looked very deep in thought.
“What about Olivia?” He suggested a moment later. “We could shorten it to Liv.”
“I don’t really like Liv,” I admitted, wrinkling my nose. “I do like Olivia, but she would naturally get called Liv and I don’t like that.”
Chris accepted my reservations openly and without taking offense and I was relieved, but not surprised. Even when we were trying to think of a name for Grayson - when we weren’t together and things were somewhat strained between us - we’d done very well at being supportive and not taking it personally when we disagreed about certain names and I was glad that was continuing.
We had another person’s opinion to consider this time though and even though I knew that Chris and I would get the final say, we wanted him to be a part of it. He let us know that he wanted to be included too as he piped up with an idea.
“Jake!” Grayson blurted out so suddenly that it took us a moment to realize he was offering it up as a suggestion. “My friend Jake is really nice and maybe that name will make the baby nice too!”
I giggled at his reasoning as Chris answered him with a smile.
“I’m not sure Jake is a great name for a girl. Some names can be for boys or girls, but Jake isn’t really one of them.”
“Some boy names are cute for girls,” I agreed. “But I think Daddy’s right and it would get confusing, wouldn’t it? How would you know which Jake we were talking about if your best friend and your sister had the same name?”
“Oh, yeah,” Grayson nodded in understanding. “That is confusing!”
I smiled at his willingness to help before another name from the book popped into my head.
“What about Victoria?”
Chris immediately pulled a face and shook his head.
“I have a cousin named Victoria,” he told me. “And she’s…not a very nice person.”
I nodded and pulled out my phone to see if I could more name suggestions online when Grayson chimed in again.
“How about Ariel?” He said, his words dripping with as much sarcasm as a four year old could muster. “Because Daddy loves The Little Mermaid.”
I snorted out a laugh as Chris’ eyes widened at the judgement that had just been thrown at him before flashing me a smirk.
“It’s not a bad name,” he teased. “I could get used to that.”
“No one would be surprised, but I think that’s a bit much,” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, Ariel Evans doesn’t sound right to me.”
“I dunno,” Chris grinned. “I think we should keep that one on the short list for sure.”
Now it was my turn to pull a face and Chris laughed as Grayson’s expression matched mine.
“I was just joking,” he insisted. “That’s silly, Daddy.”
“It is silly,” I agreed. “I think we’ll have to take some more time and give it a lot more thought before we decide.”
“Alright, alright, I guess we can keep thinking about it,” Chris relented with a smirk. “I mean, I’m gonna keep Ariel in mind, but maybe we’ll have to wait and see what suits her when she’s born.”
“That’s true, but I would prefer to have a few options lined up,” I told him. “I don’t want her to be nameless for too long while we decide.”
Chris agreed and we all promised to keep it in the back of our minds until we could come up with a name that everyone liked.
-
Despite that decision, I couldn’t stop pondering about a name. Grayson’s had come so easily, but it seemed like I could think of far more girl names that I didn’t like than those that I did. It wasn’t until I was relaxing in the bathtub later that evening after Grayson was in bed that it hit me. As I repeated it softly to myself, I knew in my heart that it was the perfect name and I leapt from the bath as fast as I safely could, needing to share it with Chris as soon as possible. I was terrified that he would shoot it down, but I loved it so much that I really couldn’t see how he would have any arguments. I dried myself off quickly before borrowing his bathrobe and rushing into our bedroom where he was relaxing on the bed watching TV.
“You okay?” He questioned, an amused smile on his face as I burst into the room. “You look kinda frantic.”
“I’ve thought of a name!” I announced. “And please, think it over before you shoot it down because I really think it’s perfect and it’s okay if you disagree, but give it a chance, okay?”
“Of course,” he nodded, muting the TV and sitting up to give me his full attention. “What’s the name?”
I took a deep breath and flashed him a smile.
“Isabella Mae Evans.”
I could see Chris taking it in and I was relieved when he didn’t immediately disapprove, but found myself nervously cracking my knuckles as I waited for a response. He repeated it back to me as if testing out how it felt as it rolled off his tongue and I rushed to explain how I’d thought of it as if that would help sway him.
“I was thinking about what Grayson said - about how much you love The Little Mermaid - and while I don’t think particularly like the name Ariel, I know you also love Beauty and the Beast,” I hurried to get my words out. “Belle led me to Isabelle, but I think Isabella is kinda prettier, but her nickname could still be Belle and that could be your little Disney tribute.”
Chris chuckled at my somewhat rambled explanation, but shook his head.
“I don’t need there to be a Disney tribute in our daughter’s name,” he assured me. “I was just joking earlier when Gray suggested that.”
“I know you don’t need it,” I smiled. “But I thought you might like it.”
“Honestly?” Chris grinned at me, making my heartbeat pause as the anticipation of what he was going to say next had my palms sweating. “I love it. Disney connection aside, I think Isabella is a perfect name.”
I felt my whole body relax with relief as I quickly crawled across the bed to throw my arms around Chris. It was a slightly awkward angle at first, but he chuckled and pulled me so my legs were draped over his lap with his arms around my waist as he leaned down to place a kiss on my lips.
“I’m so glad you like it. As soon as I thought of it, it just felt right and I would have been so disappointed if you hated it..”
“I love it,” he repeated. “I like the Mae part too, where did that come from?”
I felt myself grow a little sheepish as I worried that he wouldn’t like it so much after I explained. I was definitely open to changing it if necessary, but I felt like it had a nice ring to it and it was a tribute of my own that was fairly important.
“It’s Hannah’s middle name,” I admitted. “Grayson has your name as his middle name and I don’t really want to use mine - nothing really feels like it goes with it anyway - but Hannah’s like a sister to me so I thought it could be a little nod to her. I know you guys have a rocky relationship so I know you might not approve, but it would mean a lot to me and it does sound nice with Isabella.”
Again, I felt myself fill with relief as Chris smiled and nodded his head.
“It does sound nice,” he agreed. “And I think that’s a nice idea.”
I stretched up to place another kiss on his lips as I felt a wave of love and adoration towards him wash over me.
“Thank you,” I murmured against his lips before pulling away. “She’s done a lot for me over the years, she’s got my back no matter what and I know that she will absolutely always be there for our kids. Plus, she’s the one who convinced me that having another baby wasn’t a terrifying and awful idea so it just feels right.”
“You don’t need to justify it,” Chris assured me as he slid one of his hands into my robe to rub my bump in the mindless way he did whenever we were close enough. “I think it’s a sweet idea and it works perfectly.”
“I’m so glad you agree,” I grinned, moving my hand down to cover his. “Our little Isabella Mae.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
Chris lifted his eyes to meet mine with a look on his face that made it clear he felt like the luckiest man in the world. And in that moment, I felt exactly the same.
All my earlier fears and panic seemed so unnecessary because I knew in my heart that the amount of love that Chris and I already had for our daughter and the amount of support that we had from everyone who loved us would get us through almost anything. It wouldn’t always be easy - her and I might not always see eye to eye and we might not always agree with the choices she made in life - but with so many people in her corner, I had no doubt that she was going to be just fine and we’d get through the journey together as a family.
-
Note: I’ve had the name picked out for so long! Please let me know what you think about it! :)
Part Nine
Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @mjey12 @denisemarieangelina @elrw24 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @trottae17 @annvail @gracet93 @rach2602 @sarahdonald87
#chris evans#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fic#once bitten/more hearts#the sweetest devotion
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Researching...
ZETA
You need to see this first then this
The alchemist had been trying all remedies to shake off the stress and fatigue in his system and they all seemed to fail, no amount of sketching or discoveries can pull him away from it. So when you offered a solution he hasn’t heard, he’d jump at it immediately. “You know, some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever.” “Intercourse? If it’s true, then please, I wish to have intercourse with you.” “Wha- wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!” “Convenient, I love you, anything else?”
Pairing -> Albedo x Female Reader
Word Count -> 2944
Themes -> Smut, PwP, PwF, Woohoo, the "thing", the "do"
Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event)
Warnings -> NSFW CONTENT, DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGED! (this is awkward because you two have no experience, jsyk)
(Z,E)-9,12-tetradecadienyl acetate (TDA, also known as ZETA) are usually emitted by females to attract males for mating. Sex pheromones are defined as odors, produced by either males or females that stimulate one or more behavioral reactions in the opposite sex, bringing the males and females together for the purpose of mating.
The foldered papers at the mahogany desk met with a soft plop at its weight, and you noticed the Alchemist suddenly straighten his back from his spaced out daze on the noise, whipping his head towards where you stand. Albedo's teal eyes were wide from the sudden intrusion, but his eyelids drooped over them once again upon the realization that it was just you who entered as it loses its light once more. This worried you.
The Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius has been in a dilemma recently. And all of Mond knows of this.
Albedo naturally holds himself in a regal and composed aura that draws people to him in admiration and trance. But this Albedo lacks such gait, with shoulders tense and eyebrows furrowed, steps heavy and head hanging low.
He has hit a wall in his never-ending research. And the effect was obvious on him.
Days he'd be cooped up in his laboratory staring at nothing, glaring at his setup. Days he'd be gone beyond the walls with his easel and sketchbook, only to return with unfinished artworks meant to be forgotten. Sucrose had tried placing experiments that are easy to handle and give him at least a sense of self-confidence for solving, but even that cannot pull his mind away from his obstacle.
"You know," leaning on the table with arms crossed, you watched the Kreideprinz drag his foot to where you were, aiming to check on the folder that you just submitted, "Some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever." Such words smoothly flowed out of your mouth despite the masked embarrassment you expertly hid through a haughty smirk.
That someone was Kaeya, and that Kaeya threw out that same comment next to you when you two saw Albedo walk through the headquarter's halls like a zombie a few days ago.
The sudden pound of fists on the table at either side of you startled you, expertly caging you in as you looked up. Albedo loomed over you with eyes brightly catching the sun, giving it the luminosity that carried the same curious look he had when faced with the unknown. "Intercourse? If it's true, then please," oh no, "I wish to have intercourse with you."
Excuse me? "Wha-" suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how close you are to one another. You slightly hiked yourself up against the table, as to preserve what little distance you have. "Wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!”
And without skipping a beat, he mused, "Convenient, I love you, anything else?" That familiar smirk displayed on his face.
Contrary to his face tho, you greatly contest to Diluc's hair. Really a normal reaction- to this guy suddenly confessing! Your head is already whirling around in confusion and your eyes couldn't set itself straight at him, still mindful of the distance of which reminded you why you were in this predicament in the first place.
Albedo attentively watched your eyes stray to the side as he stands there in silence, seeing it land at the entrance to his laboratory. Ah of course, he thought he'd made a discovery, as he leans away from you to make his way towards the door.
And shut it with a click.
"Wait, wait, why did you lock the door?!" You finally mustered up the courage to speak (breaking away from the shock of his confession) as he finds himself where he stood over you, eyes filled with confusion.
"You were quiet after my confession. I know such moments of romance are intimate and with your eyes, I only wanted to give us privacy," his brows furrowed with confusion before his shoulders dropped, a sharp sigh escaping. "Normally people would express their reciprocation by now," he breathed as he starts pulling back and away, "but voicing your rejection would have been appre-"
Quickly with a yelp, you reached out for his departing form, pulling him back by the grip on his shirt. Albedo's eyes only widened a little as he was quick to grip the table's edge to stabilize himself, one arm wrapped around your waist to ground you. "No! I do- do love you too!" You finally squeezed out the embarrassing confession, "You were just so sudden, it surprised me so much!"
And suddenly he was laughing openly, full of relief and humor, as his shoulders slackened at the validation. The heavy weight on his shoulders eased as if a physical matter left it, the bout of removed tension making him slump on you.
You cradled the tired Albedo in your arms as you let him place his chin on your shoulder. This man is your lover now, you thought as the fact finally dawned on you. The brilliant and most loved in Mond now tied down to you.
Basking in the presence of a person now his, Albedo found himself breathing in. There was a scent to you that always soothes him which now feels emphasized at the closeness. His pupils dilated as his face buries itself closer to the junction where your neck and shoulder meets.
Ah, what was this? Was this the pheromones you once talked about in your research on zoology that attracts those to them? He mused in his mind as those teal eyed fluttered shut, nose brushing at your neck for another whiff.
While Albedo indulged himself with the natural scent of you, you stood there with weak legs, trembling and red from the notions. Oh gods, you whimpered at the feeling of his lips brushing at your skin, you're whipped for this man.
"I'm waiting," you had to hold the shiver when his words vibrated against your neck, "for your answer on my offer, I think it would be good to try." Ah the 'intercourse'. You placed your hands flat on his back as he leans away to stare in attention, and then you finally explained to him what you meant, what you'd do, and what it entails to.
Albedo nods in understanding at your every clause and explanation. And his bright mind understood far too easily how it would help. "We are lovers now," his eyes twinkled at the cute scrunch of your nose upon the embarrassment of the fact, "sooner or later we'd end up doing it anyways. When shouldn't be a matter."
Albedo always make a good point.
With your consent, Albedo slowly lays you on the surface of the table as his other hand makes quick work to swipe away the items that would be in the way, thankfully the carpeted floor prevented anything from breaking. His lips found yours almost naturally as you urged him to take off his coat and you worked on your own, the thoughts spiraling in your head for every clothing that is shed:
Albedo has little to none idea on how sex works between humans, and you had your base knowledge from the things you learned from academics; in short, you're both inexperienced and you are his anchor.
How funny how the master role quickly switched, you thought with an inward laugh before it died in your throat at the sight— he stands there with his undershirt unbuttoned, belt and shorts caught by his knee, and his apparent bulge outlined by his boxers. Your thighs instinctively closed, you don't know what's considered average in size for such things, but you know for a fact there's gonna be some difficulty.
"Is something wrong?" His raw and calloused hands (gloves long gone) softly landed at your squirming thighs, the contact sending a shiver all over. "Am I doing something wrong?"
No, you breathed as you urged him to step closer and settle between your legs at the edge of the table, his form forcing you to spread your limbs apart.
The intoxicating scent that Albedo indulged in earlier was stronger now, drowning him and clouding his thoughts. The waft plunged through his senses so forcefully that he stumbled a bit on you, hips hitting as he grips your sides to keep him steady.
Next came the warmth that touched his sensitive length as it laid between you, the contact had forced out a cute squeak from you and an airy groan from him. His hips buckled to catch the sensation as he finds himself rutting between your folds with ragged breathing.
So good, it felt so good. Albedo finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open from what he now identified to be pleasure, and as he looks up to check on you, you were struggling just the same. Your chest rises and falls in quick successions as you covered your eyes with an arm, whimpers coming out of your slightly parted lips.
Fuck. If only he wasn't so engrossed, he wanted to capture this image through painting. "Am I-," he cleared his throat of the hoarse voice, "Am I hurting you?"
You gasped at the cold and wet feeling swipe from your chin to the corner of your lips, licking the trail of drool you didn't even notice when you opened your eyes to see Albedo's up close. With a shake of your head, you gripped the ponytail of his braid to pull his head for a sudden kiss.
Staggering over your form as your legs hiked up to hook around his waist, you guided the tip of his length to your entrance as he ravaged your mouth without restraint. Lips bruising each other, tongue tracing the underside of yours gingerly before it licks at the roof of your mouth— all the sensations had fogged up your consciousness so badly that you didn't feel an ounce of pain when he finally entered into you, guided by a shy gentleness to his ministrations.
It is only when his tip finally touched the opening of your cervix did you whimper; the way you're being stretched and the fullness of his length in you making you writhe under and around him, the friction only making rousing him more.
Albedo produced a low growl against your lips as he bit down on the bottom one, his trimmed nails digging to your soft-skinned hips as he pins it down. "Stop- nghh- stop moving around so much," a sudden warmth pooled into your stomach as you tightened around him.
Mistake number one: You didn't expect for his gentleness to be gone.
Spurred on by your tightening grip and the pleasure shooting up him everytime his tip came in contact with your edge, Albedo went into a relentless pace, pounding straight into you to hit that spot. Your pants turned into breathless chokes everytime he comes in contact, forcing your raw moans out of you. There's a dull pain by your entrance everytime he grinds against your walls, and he whimpers your name in pure ecstacy every stroke.
Your back arcs as he smacks into you, pulling back halfway through before burying deep into your hole once again. His brutal pace gets sloppy at times, before his strength comes back again to pull you closer. Halfway through Albedo produces a feral growl as he grips one of your legs behind the knee, pushing it closer to your body and slightly angled to the side.
And the moment he thrusts in with the new position, you cried out his name. The tip of his length reached far deeper with this new angle, and had plunged the top right into your cervix— your hips trembled as Albedo's whole body shivers at the new sensation, fingernails digging into your thigh as his other hand intertwines with yours, pinning it down on the table as leverage.
"Ahn," he whispered your name tiredly with tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, for the first time staring at your eyes after he had started, "How are you? Is it okay? Is it..."
Good, you mumbled with a tired smile at his consideration, bumping your hips to emphasize on it- which drew a sharp gasp from the both of you, he was already in so deep, your hips bruised and touching.
He rolled his hips to test out, his thickness rubbing at the walls as he stirs your insides. The sweet moan you produced spurred him on, and he was once again staggering into you, his hips slightly elevated in an angle meant to pierce through you.
The sound of flesh smacking against each other overpowers even your loudest moan as Albedo pleasured himself inside you desperately, the smell of sex filling your sense of smell. He chases the way your hole drips and wafts with the scent, drawing in a huge breathe whenever your mixed cum spills past his tightly locked dick in you.
And soon his pace became more desperate and short, as he makes quick work at hitting you in your most sensitive part to barely give you time to gasp for air. Your walls clenched down on him so tightly as you came, a cry of his name passing your lips as your back arched—
the pressure made him buckle and he thrusts in deep one last time, tip breaking past your cervix, as his climax enters you in thick strings of warmth.
That was mistake number two: you didn't bring protection with you.
But at that moment you couldn't care less (your cycle just ended anyways, you should be fine), watching him whimper your name in full pleasure as his teeth grinds against each other, his forehead and eyebrows knit and furrow as he releases before it relaxes after he is done.
And then he falls face first to your chest, the renowned Alchemist running out of the minimal stamina he had with him. Buried between the valley of your breast, Albedo had the most serene (almost drunk) expression on his face, lips pressed against the skin over your heart where it beats with fervor from your activity.
He tested another experimental thrust, lighter this time, as he felt your mixed fluids moved around the tiny space. You gave a wailing moan at his action, and he breathlessly laughed at your reaction.
Albedo stayed in you and on you for a few more minutes after that. Still trying to regain strength as your tired pants became the white noise that night.
"Albedo..." he hums against your chest as his arms tightened around your waist, enjoying the peace your hands brought to him as you stroke his cheek. "Albedo, I need to clean up." He jests that you should just keep it in you and you responded with rapid pats, whining at the notion. He chuckles.
It took him a lot of willpower to get up and he made it obvious as hell, taking his time to remove himself off your chest, grumbling that his bed was complaining too much. You let out a cute snort before smacking his arm. Albedo grips your hips as he gently pulls out when he stops suddenly, realizing that the liquids would pour out and make an obvious mess if he were to do so.
His head passes around the immediate area as he pinpoints a peculiar object, plucking it from its plastic package, still new from the bubble wrap. A sharp gasp suddenly comes by you at the cold and hard sensation that replaced Albedo inside you, only a few inches deep as the Alchemist walks off to get tissues. Wary, you looked down to see the object, choking out when you saw its end sticking out past your crotch:
A test tube, pristine and clean, was preventing the fluids from dripping out of your hole.
When Albedo came back with the tissues and spare cloth in hand, he muses at how your deep red face was smacked tightly against your palms. He offers to clean up, a gentle hand carefully pulling out the tube, but you refused and got quick work on yourself. That was enough embarrassment for tonight.
Unbeknownst to you with your busied self, Albedo held the glass vial in close inspection and curiosity. The translucent white liquid barely blocks the night light and produced the same strong scent he'd been chasing the whole night— he sticks his tongue out to taste, ah, slightly salty and sticky.
Albedo wonders what kind of experiment he can do with this.
The obvious lift on the shoulders of the Chief Alchemist was greatly acknowledged by everyone in town who were aware of the impasse the young man had troubled himself with for the past few days. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the tealness he has shined with newfound vigor. Besides the mood shift, many of the knights had also noticed the time spent between the two of you. Missions and expeditions were always coinciding with each other and people barely saw you separated, giggling and smiling to yourselves in your pink world.
One day they finally found out about your relationship when a knight barged in to his laboratory for an urgent matter. Blurting out the Chief Alchemist's name before he realized that you were there, lips locked against each other.
The news spreads fast with that little detail and everyone congratulated you on your relationship.
Behind your bashful smiles, you and Albedo sighed in great relief, thankful to the archons that the knight didn't took notice of your hand under his big white coat that time.
This turned out like this cuz alchemy boy very new to things u_u and little stamina, he needs to exercise more ehe-
@creation-magician @dandelion-dreams @zelos-simp @struggljng @youroffical-weirdo @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47
#genshin impact#genshin impact oneshots#genshin impact x reader#exile.flower#genshin impact albedo#albedo x reader#Albedo#not for children#bonafide specials#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa#author.exe stopped working#author scared#*glares* part two will wait a lil longer#female reader
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An Officer and a Gentleman
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, anal, cheating (sort of), name-calling.
This is dark!(silverfox)Lee Bodecker x (married)reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: Your after hours work gets in the way of your day job.
Note: I had the first half sitting around and finished it so here ya go. It takes place in the 70s so Lee is older and it was inspired by an article I read about the creation phone sex lines by a housewife in the 70s (which now of course I can’t flippin find). But anyway, here you go.
Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
The sheriff sat down in his usual spot as you wiped your hands on the rag tucked into your apron. He set his hat on the table and tidied his greying hair. Even at his age, his locks were thick and looked soft. Strands of brown lined the shining silver and shone under the diner lights.
He came in at the same time every day, only an hour into your shift. You approached and flipped the cup on its saucer before you filled it. He took only sugar, no cream
or milk. You smiled as you watched him read over the menu, he never ordered anything but the waffles.
“Good morning, sheriff,” you said as you held the carafe aloft. “Lookin’ to try something new?”
“‘Dols Leck’?” Lee Bodecker mispronounced the French words, “What’s that?”
“Dolce Leche,” you corrected, “It’s caramel.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his ruddy cheek and reached for his mug. He drank and held out the menu. “Waffles with strawberry.”
“Extra cream,” you finished for him. He nodded and had another gulp as you walked away.
You put in his ticket after you replaced the coffee pot on the burner. You checked on the few other customers along the counter and wiped down the empty tables. The bell rang and you went to grab the sheriff’s breakfast from the window. You set the plate down before him as he folded the newspaper and replaced it in the little holder at the end of the table.
“How’s Eugene?” He asked as he unwrapped his cutlery. “And the boy?”
“Gene’s still on nights.” You lamented and subconsciously touched your stomach. “Little Ezra’s almost a year now.”
Your boy was buxom and buoyant. You smiled as you thought of his round cheeks and warm brown eyes. You only wished his father was around more to take him off your hip as you cooked and cleaned in your spare hours after work. Eugene was asleep as much as he was at the factory. You saw each other in passing as you scraped for ends meet.
Ezra was with Eugene’s mother during the day. You’d pick him up and take him home to wait for your husband to wake. If you were lucky, you got a kiss before he grabbed his lunch pail and headed out for his twelve hours. You hadn’t gotten more than that since before Ezra came. Neither of you had the time or energy, though the want was there.
“And you sheriff? How are you doing these days?” You asked before you could get lost in your self-pity.
“Ah, you know. The same old. Patrol’s ain’t too exciting.” He cut into the stack and licked his lips. He was a man with a sweet tooth, a substitute for his former alcoholic habit.
“Well, you enjoy, sheriff, you know how to get my attention.” You left him and did a round of refills for those eating and greeted the new arrivals.
Lee was always alone when he came in. He never brought any of his cadets or officers, he just sat, read the newspaper, and ate his waffles. He wasn’t married and had no children. Nearly fifty years on his back but he seemed content on his own. You almost envied him as you struggled with your small family.
🚔
You laid Ezra down carefully in his crib. He was getting big. You tickled his forehead and watched him for a moment before you left the room. It was late. Eugene was gone and the phone would ring soon. You had to prepare yourself for your night time duties.
It started small. An idea found in the pages of one of those feminist magazines, the very ones your husband called good kindling. A woman lost her job, still hard-fought for the domestic sex, and found herself in a similar way as yourself. Money was always needed and harder to come about. So she started her own service for the lonely men. A phone line with illicit intentions.
You read about it in the late stages of your pregnancy and laughed at the idea. It was so stupid. So scandalous. But once you were back to work and Eugene was on the late shift, you grew lonely and your checkbook was harder to open.
You hand wrote the little cards after a visit to the phone company. Eugene didn’t know about the second line. The number redirected to your main line and was active for only three hours a night, after your husband was gone. It was registered as a commercial line so each incoming call was billed to the dialer and a percentage was refunded on your own invoice.
You left the number around town, certain not to be seen as you dropped the cards in the car shop and the bar. At least, you hoped you hadn’t been seen.
The first night had you addled and sleepless until your shift began at the diner. It was hard to keep up the sultry voice and the lies. Difficult to act like the whole thing didn’t make you cringe. The men called and said their dirty words as you encouraged them with moans and little prods. “Oh yes, baby.” or “Tell me more.” It felt like you were cheating on your husband but it kept his plate full and the house warm.
The phone didn’t ring right away that night. Later in the week, you got more calls but one or two was better than none. The real profit was keeping them on the line as long as you could, but there were times you had to end abruptly to see to your wailing child.
You were half-asleep when the first call came in. You fumbled with the receiver and batted away your fatigue with your lashes. You held in a yawn and your sleepiness added to the allure of your put-on voice.
“Hello, mister, what are you longing for tonight?” You laid back on your pillow and played with the spiral cord.
“Well, I…” You blinked and held the phone against your ear. He sounded familiar, as many of the men did, but his timbre made your ears prick sharply. “I don’t know. I never did nothing like this before.”
You squinted and thought. You knew him but you couldn’t place the twinge in your head.
“I can start for you, darling,” you offered. “Mmm, tell you what I would do to you?”
He cleared his throat and you heard movement. He was nervous. So many of the men sounded the same. Most of them were afraid of being caught by their wives or uncertain about their desires. At first, you had the same fears but had since grown indifferent. It was human nature, as natural as one’s instinct to quench their thirst for water.
“How do you like it, darling? You like it when a lady bends over? I like it like that. Or maybe you want to start with me on my back.”
He groaned and you heard the receiver scratch. He let out a strained breath and moved the phone to his other hand.
“I want to use your mouth.” He said at last. His voice was low and gristly. “I want to push your head down in my lap as I choke you with my cock.”
You stared at the ceiling as you reclined and hummed. “Oh yeah.”
“Shut up.” He snarled. “I don’t want to hear your voice, I just want your mouth on me until you can’t fucking breathe. I want to hear you struggle. I was your tears streaming down your face and salting the taste of me on my tongue. I want to hold you down and cum until it’s deep in your belly.”
You parted your lips and raised your brows. You were still focused on trying to recognize the voice. His tone made you quiver. He was more forceful than most men. A lot of them just talked about sucking on your tits or went straight to fucking.
“I’d love that, darling.” You lied and bent one leg over the other as you swayed your foot.
“I said shut up!” He hissed. “I want to hold you down with my hands around your neck. I want to fuck you until your screaming. I’ll fuck you until you bleed. Until you beg for me to cum again.”
His breath was furious and you heard something else. The phone was moving against his chin as he moaned and you were certain you could hear his hand somewhere else; lower. It set your cheeks on fire and you sat up. His voice, his breath, the sheer anger and lust laced in his rasps. Your throat tightened as if he was truly choking you.
“But I want to cum in your ass. I want to make it hurt. I want you to cry as I tear you apart from the inside.” He growled and coughed as his voice fizzled out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stroked himself furiously and the receiver dropped with a thump and you flinched. “Fucking bitch, yeah, you want my cock deep in your ass. Fucking whore.”
Your fingers hurt as you gripped the phone tightly and listened. His curses streamed steadily until the line clicked and died suddenly. You lowered the receiver and stairs at the little whole clustered together on the mouthpiece. You set it in the cradle and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.
It was unlike any call you’d had. It was terrifying and made your blood curdle. You felt as if it had actually happened as your chest was heavy and your heart raced. You blew out a shaky breath and reached to silence the ringer.
That was enough for the night.
🚔
The next day at the diner, you couldn’t stop yawning. You hadn’t slept much as the call replayed in your head over and over. The man’s voice was so clear in your mind and every time you started to drift off, he spoke in your ear. You dragged the rag over the top of the counter as Amelia spoke with the elderly couple in that corner.
The door chimed and you looked up. Sheriff Bodecker took off his hat as he entered and nodded at you. With the coffee pot in hand, you went to his table, already set for his arrival. You wished him a good morning and filled his cup. His voice was thick as he muttered his response and picked up the menu. He looked as tired as you felt.
“Strawberry, sheriff?” You prompted.
“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, stubbly from a missed shave. “This Dolsay Leckay. I’ll try that today.” He held out his menu. “I’m trying new things this week.”
You took the menu stiffly and nodded. “Waffles with dolce leche sauce. Right away, sheriff.”
You turned and walked off to write out his ticket. You returned the coffee pot to its place and set down the menu as you took out your pad and pen. Your hand shook as you scribbled out the order. You stuck it in the window and leaned on the counter.
It couldn’t be him. You were crazy. You didn’t get enough sleep and you were wanting to hear that voice everywhere. Your reassurances were weak and only made you shiver as you righted yourself and continued wiping down the tables.
You angled yourself to look at the sheriff as he squinted down at the newspaper. He stuck his tongue out as he read to poke his top lip and tilted his head coyly. He cleared his throat and coughed as his order rang in the window.
You went to grab the plate and struggled not to fumble it. It was him. The way he coughed, the gravelly scratch of his throat, the deep and firm undertone. You couldn’t deny it was him. You were stunned you hadn’t recognized him at once.
“There you are, sheriff,” you said as you set down his plate. “Enjoy.”
“I think I will,” he rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving this morning.”
“If you need anything,” you made your usual offer.
He looked at you and smiled. You noticed how his eyes strayed to your name tag and the buttons of your blue dress. He turned to his waffles and took out the knife and fork.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said as he ran the tines of the fork through the dark caramel. “I think I’m just fine.”
You left him to eat and straightened your apron. You were confident you’d changed your voice enough that he didn’t have the same epiphany. Even so, everything about him was different. At least in your head. He was no longer the desolate sheriff, he was desperate and demanding. He wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a man with a lot of power and a hunger to use it.
🚔
It was several days before you dared to leave the ringer on after Eugene’s departure. Your husband was loving but almost entirely absent. Since Ezra was born, he’d only grown more distant and work could not excuse him completely. When you ate dinner late with him, he barely heard you as he kept the radio on and those nights he didn’t work, he didn’t touch you.
You felt worse for your own misdeeds. The phone line made you shy and sullen with him. You should tell him but you didn’t know how and truly, you couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t take it well and even if he was barely there, you couldn’t lose him. You were already painfully alone.
That night, he volunteered for overtime and so you hardly saw him before he headed out. He said you needed the money but your books were well balanced from your own after hours work. You’d done it to take the burden off of him but he still took the extra time, even as you argued that your bills were in good standing.
Was it you? When had it all grown so cold?
Ezra ate his mashed peas and you set him down for the night. You heard him cooing still but you kept to your schedule even when he was wide awake. He always tired himself out and never fussed very long.
You sat on your bed and read. You checked the time. The phone would start soon and that night you couldn’t leave it off. You needed the money and you couldn’t be picky about where it came from. The month would be over and there would be a whole new batch of debts to account for.
You jumped as it rang. You kept the volume low so it didn’t carry through the whole house and you answered after several rings. You gave your usual greeting and breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of your regulars. You closed your book and picked your nails as you went along with his routine.
When he finished, you wished him a good night. You were dead tired but one more call wouldn’t hurt. You waited and grabbed the receiver on the first ring.
“Hello, mister, what are you looking for tonight?” You made your voice higher and breathier.
“Shhhh.” The long hush chills your veins. “Don’t talk.”
You quivered. It was him. You looked at the phone cradle.
“Don’t hang up.” He said as if he could read your mind. “You want it, don’t you? You want to feel me inside you. Down your throat, fucking the whore out of you.”
“I…” you uttered.
“I said be quiet.” He barked. “I want my cock so far down your throat I can feel it as I choke you. I want your spit all over me, I want you gasping and gulping until you pass out and I’m fucking your mouth lifeless.”
Your eyes widened and you listened in disgust. He growled and his hand slapped off his thigh as he pleasured himself. You sit paralysed as fear bubbled in your chest and you felt as if he could see you. You crossed your legs and huddled down over the receiver.
“I want to fuck your cunt until it hurts to sit down. I want to hear my body slam into yours, I want you to beg me to stop and keep going at the same time. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t make a noise, until all you can hear is my cock pounding inside of you.”
“Please…” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to hang up and yet you were terrified to move.
“And I know you want it too, whore. I know you need it. Not these words, not these calls, but you need me,” he shuddered “and I need it just as bad.”
He grunted and the line grew still. He hissed and cursed.
“I’m a fucking mess,” he sneered. Another silence and you think he hung up. His voice startled you when he spoke again. “Who’re ya?”
“Wh-what?”
“I ain’t stupid. You’re some lady in the county. Maybe some lonely housewife. Ain’t sound like no prostitute I ever knew.” He sniffed and let out a groan. “Maybe you some dumb teenager playin’ games on the telephone, huh?”
“I don’t-- No. I--” You hung up.
You stood and pulled the line out of the phone and dropped down heavily. You put your head in your hands and shook it. Fuck!
🚔
The next morning at the diner, you served the sheriff with a false smile. Every time he spoke, you heard the words he said to you on the phone. Although his tone was placid, his fervour played over and over in your ears. And when you overpoured his coffee, you apologized only to have him assure you it was alright and let you mop up the mess with your rag.
He left you his usual tip and you cleared his table. The newspaper was tinged from your spill and you dumped it on his plate. As you did, a card slipped out onto the table and your handwriting stared back at you from the carefully cut rectangle. You hid it quickly in the newspaper and rushed to toss it all in the trash and drop the plate in the bin.
It must have been a mistake, you assured yourself and excused yourself for a breath of air. The chef, Carson, was already by the kitchen doors and you said yes to a smoke from his pack. You lit it after the third try and inhaled the tobacco deep into your chest. You would go to the phone company tomorrow on your day off and shut down the second line. Your lesson was learned. It wasn’t worth the spare pennies.
Your day dragged by as all you could think of was the line. When you got to the phone company, you were jittery with worry. It was easy enough to shut it down but the fee cost you your tips for the day. You checked the clock before you left, bound to be a few minutes late picking up Ezra.
As you came out onto the street, your open jacket flapped in the wind over your uniform and your mary janes clacked on the pavement as you rushed to get to Enid’s and pick up your son. When you stopped at the corner to wait for traffic to pass, a flash and a honk made you jump.
Sheriff Bodecker pulled up to the curb and rolled down his window. He waved and leaned his arm on the door as he peered out at you.
“You needa ride?” He asked.
You smiled awkwardly and clutched the handles of your weathered purse.
“Sheriff, no thank you, I’m not goin’ too far,” you waved him off.
“Nonsense, you on your feet all day. It’s the least I can do.”
“You must be busy.”
“Radio ain’t goin’ off,” he slapped the door, “now come on.” He reached down and opened the door, stepping out with a groan, “Get in. You always are so nice down at the diner.”
You swallowed and your lips quivered as you tried to hold your smile. You followed him around the other side of the car as he opened the door for you. You got into the vintage cruiser and crossed your legs as you cradled your purse on your lap. He closed the door and dropped in on the other side.
He shifted into gear and pulled off. You thanked him and fiddled with clasp of your purse.
“No problem, but uh, I just needa know where you’re goin’,” he chuckled as he slowed at the next four way.
“Oh, I gotta get Ezra from his gramma’s,” you explained, “She lives just down Carsbee.”
“Not far at all,” he commented as he turned the wheel, “So, how was the rest of your day then?”
“Not so bad,” you said breathily as he looked at you in his mirror and you focused on the pedestrians on the street, “and yours, sheriff?”
“You can call me Lee if ya like,” he offered, “And wasn’t so bad either. Which number is it, sweetheart?”
You sniffed at the pet name, he was usually so formal at the diner with his ma’ams.
“21B,” you answered as you wiggled your foot nervously, “you can just drop me off. It’s not too far to home.”
“Don’t be silly, I wanna meet your boy,” he intoned, “you talk about him so much.”
“Oh, uh, of course,” you murmured as he pulled up along the front of your mother-in-law’s, “I just gotta go get him then.”
You hooked your purse over your elbow and slid over the seat. The sheriff kept you from opening the door as he bid you stay and got out quickly as he rushed around the front of the car. He opened the door like a gentleman and removed his hat.
“I’m old but I haven’t forgot my manners,” he nodded and waited for you to step out.
You got to your feet and thanked him again before you strolled up the crooked walk to the front door. You knocked and let yourself in like you always did. You could hear Ezra babbling as he played with wooden toy cars. Enid sat in her usual spot and rocked as she watched him.
“How was he today?” You asked as you grabbed the bag you always left with him and packed up the loose ends beside it.
“Loud,” Enid muttered, “hyper.”
“Well, he’s at that age,” you grasped your purse and Ezra’s bag in one hand and picked him up from the floor as he reached out for you. “Alright, Ez, say buh bye to grammy.”
He waved and cooed as you held him on your hip. Enid said buy in her grumpy way and got up to see you to the door. You came down the single step as Lee waited by his cruiser. Ezra buried his face in your shoulder as he turned away from the sheriff.
“Don’t be shy, Ezra, this is the sheriff, Mr. Bodecker,” you tried to shake him upright but he clung to you and hid.
“Ah, don’t worry, I’m used to that,” Lee laughed and opened the door, “people see the badge and they’re not so friendly.”
“He just goin’ through a phase,” you assured as you sat with Ezra in your lap.
As Lee shut the door, you let the bags lean against it and the car dipped as he got in the other side. He turned the engine and you gave him your own address as your son squirmed in your lap. At the first corner, Ezra found the courage to look at the sheriff and the officer looked back and stuck out his tongue.
“He looks like you,” Lee said as he pushed down on the pedal, “real cute.”
You accepted the compliment and hugged Ezra tighter. You could barely process the sheriff’s words as your mind returned to those he spoke the night before. Every time he spoke, you heard him, hissing and cussing at you.
You were relieved when he came up to your house and you turned to grab your bags. You felt a tug on your elbow as you balanced Ezra and your things. You looked back at Lee as he held your arm.
“I’ll get the door,” he said, “you just stay put.”
You waited as he let you go and once more, opened the door for you. He took the bags as you climbed out and you protested that you were fine. His hand settled on your shoulder as he pulled you to face him.
“Well, sweetheart, you gonna invite me in for some coffee?”
You were shocked by his boldness and couldn’t hide it. You blanched and looked at Ezra as he tugged at your jacket. You laughed awkwardly.
“Eugene’s still sleepin’ for his shift, I don’t--”
“We got some things to discuss and I think the least you can do after I was so kind as to drive you home is a coffee.”
You squinted at him in confusion. “Maybe another time, sheriff, I’d really hate to wake--” you reached for your bags and he stopped you with his grip firm on your wrist.
“Does he know?” Lee asked in a gristly voice.
“Know what?”
“Know you a whore?” Lee sneered.
You reeled and tried to twist from his grasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You can’t say them words on the phone and not mean ‘em,” he leaned in close, “Now I think you know what I want to talk with you about so you invite me in and I’ll be real nice about it but if you keep me out here, I can’t promise your neighbours won’t get a show.”
You pouted and rocked Ezra as he began to fidget, sensing your discomfort. “Please, I got Ezra--”
“You put him in the next room so we can discuss,” Lee insisted.
He let go of you and you nodded dumbly. You watched him wearily as you turned and led him up the walk. You unlocked the front door and he followed you inside. He hung his hat on the rack with his leather jacket and you hurried into the bedroom to set Ezra down in his crib. You distracted him with his stuffed rabbit and left him. He was usually due for a nap around then anyway.
When you got back to the front room, Lee sat on your couch and you went to the kitchen to start the coffee. You waited for the water to boil and filled the percolator as you dreaded what would come next. You poured a mug and set it out on the coffee table with the sugar dish.
Lee leaned forward and spooned the sweet powder into his mug as you stood and wrung your hands. How had he figured it all out? How long had he known? Was he going to tell Eugene?
“Sit,” he said as he inhaled the savoury scent and took a cautious sip. His mug made a deafening clink as he set it down and you sat. “I s’pose you went by the phone company to end your little game.”
You sucked your lip in nervously and nodded as you looked down guiltily.
“Mhmm,” he hummed, “you know I was down there a few days ago and they just hand the records over if I say I got a warrant. They ain’t look close enough to realise it’s just a receipt.”
You gulped and kept your head down. You ran your tongue against your lip and blinked away the moisture in your eyes.
“How long you been doin’ all that?” he asked.
“Couple months,” you admitted, “I just needed some extra money. Ever since Ezra was born…”
“But you could get another job.”
“I gotta be home for the boy. Eugene never is.”
“Now a woman don’t be talkin’ like that if she happy. If she not alone.”
“Stop, please. It was a mistake. I’m sorry if you feel like I--”
“Sorry?” he interrupted, “you’re sorry? You think Gene would accept that?”
You sat in silence and picked at the button on your jacket. You hadn’t even bothered to take it off. “You gonna tell him?”
He let out a heavy breath and took another drink of coffee. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
You looked at him and furrowed your brow in confusion. You shook your head as he smirked.
“I will if you make me but if you want me to stay quiet--”
“Sheriff--”
“Shhhh,” he raised a finger, “now, you want me keep my mouth shut, you be waitin’ for me tonight after he goes.”
You stared at him in terror as your heart threatened to jump up your throat.
“And then we’re done talkin’. Then you do all those things we spoke about.”
“You can’t-- I got a son.”
“And a husband but you still be talkin’ to strange men about your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”
You blew a shaky breath between your trembling lips and sank down in the chair in shame. “I thought you were a good man, sheriff.”
“I am, don’t mean I’m not lonely.”
He drained the rest of the mug and coughed. He stood and adjusted his belt, his hand lingering on his belt. You watched his finger trace the barrel and your eyes crept up to his face.
“I’d hate to wake your husband, sweetheart, so I’ll be on my way.” he retreated around the couch and paused by the door, “but I’ll be around.”
🚔
The night went by faster than any. You never felt like you got much time with your husband but it was almost as if he was gone as soon as he woke. He left you with a peck on your forehead and dread in your chest. You thought of telling him, you wanted to confess and fix everything that had broken, but you couldn’t. You were too ashamed.
So when he was gone, you put Ezra down for the night and hoped the Sheriff was just trying to scare you. He couldn’t be serious, could he? You’d known him for years and he was only every sweet at the diner. He was a solitary man but was never unkind. That afternoon, he had been an entirely different man.
You sat on the couch, no radio, no nothing, and picked at the lines of your hand. You were certain you would sit up all night and laugh at yourself in the morning. He was just making sure you stopped, that had to be it.
But then the knock came and your whole body went rigid. You waited until it sounded again, harder, louder. You got up and went to the door. You didn’t need to look out to know who it was. You opened up and Lee watched you with his menacing blue eyes. They were no longer the gentle gems you knew from the diner.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled as he stepped inside and you backed away from him.
He closed the door and locked it then he removed his hat and jacket, just as he had earlier. He bent to ease off his boots and stood as he cleared his throat. He peered behind you and looked around your small house.
“I’m just in time, huh?” he mused as he touched your side and let it slip down to your hip. “What you shakin’ for?”
“I thought…” you rasped. “Sheriff, you know me. I’m not a bad woman.”
“You ain’t?” he snickered. “I do know you. I’m the only one in the county who knows the real you.”
“I don’t understand why you’re doin’ this,” you whined.
“I’m old but not decrepit,” he took your hand and raised it, “and you’re a beautiful woman. I daresay,” he kissed the back of your hand, “motherhood did make you even sweeter.”
“Please,” you begged.
“You get in that bedroom before I lose the last of my will,” he bit his lip as he looked you up and down and released your hand.
You shivered and backed away from him. You went blindly to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. You couldn’t, not in the bed you shared with your husband. Lee came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His hot breath tickled your ear as he leaned into you.
“I wanna see what you hide under that dress,” he purred, “now don’t make me ruin it.”
You gasped and drew away from him. You neared the foot of the bed and unbuttoned the top of your dress. Your fingers were ungainly as you struggled and you pushed the sleeves down your arms with a stifled sob. You shoved the fabric past your waist and hips and his growl made you stand upright with a snap.
Your stockings were held up by fraying garters and your old underwear added to your shame. Your brasserie was pointed and too tight. You hung your head and balled your hands into fists.
“Turn around, I wanna see you,” he said.
You reluctantly obeyed and stared at the floor. He hummed and his thumb ran over his belt buckle. A sudden cry made your blood cold and he scowled. Ezra was awake.
You moved to go to him and the sheriff blocked the door.
“I gotta go to him. He must’ve had a bad dream.”
“I’ll take care of the boy. You just be waitin’ when I get back.” he ran his tongue under his teeth, “naked.”
He pointed to the bed and didn’t leave until you took several steps back. You listened as he went to the small room attached to the master. You worried he might hurt the boy but his coaxing voice surprised you.
“Shhh,” you heard the distant tone, “it’s okay, son, it’s okay.”
You reached to unhook your bra and sat to roll your stockings off. You needed this man gone. If you abided him, he would be away sooner. You dropped the last of your clothing to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Your nails dug into the blankets and you closed your eyes.
It was over a year since you’d been touched. That alone made you shy but that man made you terrified. You heard him enter but didn’t look up at him. “You get up on all fours and ready that mouth for me.” he ordered as you heard his buckle tink, “yeah, I wanna start there.”
You swallowed and did as he said. You felt like some lowly animal as you stared at the floor. You heard the flutter of fabric as he stripped and when he came close, you shut your eyes. He grabbed your hand and jerked you to the edge. He tapped the tip of his cock along your lips.
“Now, open up, sweetheart,” he snarled, “I know you remember every word I said.”
You parted your lips and he forced his way into your mouth. He poked at the back of your throat but didn’t relent. You gagged as he sank down your throat and your entire body twitched. His hand went to your neck as he drew back and pushed back in. He felt himself as he invaded your throat over and over.
“Ah, yes, that’s it,” he uttered, “you can’t tell me you’re not a whore. You take me like one.”
You tried to swallow around him and breath and it made him groan. He kept fucking your face as his hand squeezed your throat. Your spit spilled out and smeared across your face and his pelvis. He kept your head bobbing until you were dizzy and dazed.
He stopped, deep down your throat, and grunted. He let out a shuddery breath and pushed you off of him. You slipped down onto your stomach and gasped over the side of the bed.
“Hoo, I almost blew,” he huffed, “oh, you bad, bad girl.” He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass, “turn around and get back up.”
You whimpered and lifted yourself back to your knees. You moved stiffly around and wiped your mouth as the taste of him stained your tongue. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back. He kneaded your ass with hungry growls and pinched your thigh. He felt along your cunt and tutted.
“You wet for me,” he taunted, “just from a taste, sweetheart.”
You dropped your head and he moved closer. He pressed the head of his dick against your folds and ran it up and down as you slickened. He lined up with your entrance and his large hand gripped your hip. He slid into you with a sigh and you let out a startled cry. Maybe it was because it was so long but he felt massive. You quivered around him and clenched your teeth.
“Oh, fuck, you want it just as bad as me, don’t ya?” He bucked his hips and you exclaimed, “how am I suppose to hold back with you squeezin’ me like that?”
He didn’t hold back as he caught his stride. He hammered into you as your flesh slapped loudly. You feared the noise would wake your son again, or worse, be heard by the neighbours. He groaned and grunted as he rammed into you and your thighs quaked. Ripples rolled over your spine and multiplied down your legs.
He stretched his hand over your back and slid them up to your shoulders. He bent over you as he forced your arms to fold beneath you and pushed your head into the mattress. He stilled and wiggled his hips until you moaned. He pulled one hand away from your shoulder as the other spread over your neck.
He slid out of your cunt and spread your juices up and down. He guided his dick between your cheeks and leaned into to pant in your ear. “I didn’t forget about your ass.”
He pushed against your hole and you tensed. His hand tightened on your neck and he poked harder.
“You relax or it’ll hurt more,” he coaxed, “come on, almost…”
He pushed past your ring and you both gasped. Your eyes filled with tears and you sniffed as he urged himself deeper past your resistance. He let out a long breath as he advanced inch by inch. He drew back each time before adding more and when he was at his limit, you sobbed and clawed at the mattress.
“Oh, oh, fuck, oh, shit,” he swore as he rocked his hips, “you know, urgh, I wanted to do this for so long. Even ‘fore I called.”
He growled and built a steady pace as he stretched you. Your tears seeped into the blanket as his grip threatened to break your neck. His belly bounced against the top of your ass as he rutted without restraint.
“I always thought ‘bout you over that table. Always thought-- Always thought you deserved better than that husband,” he rasped out, “but I never thought you’d feel so good.”
He slammed into you harder than before. Your legs fell out from beneath you and he was quick to descend over you, covering you with his body as he bent his arm across the back of your head. He fucked you into the mattress as your head began to spin and your body reacted to his.
You’d never felt anything so intense as the maelstrom of pain and pleasure building inside you. You moaned and muttered until the sudden tide swept you up and had you murmuring like a fool, drooling onto the bed as he kept on.
He planted his hand on either side of you and lifted himself. He dropped his hips down into your ass over and over. The symphony of flesh filled your mind and you succumbed to the afterglow of tortured delight. He sank as far as he could and spasmed.
“Shit, oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he slowed and lowered his sweaty body onto you. You suffocated beneath him as his heart beat against your back. “Oh, you made me… made me blow.” He tilted his hips. “You feel how I filled your ass?”
You let out shallow breaths and turned your face into the blanket. He grunted and raised himself off of you, his cock slipping out easily and his cum trickling down after. He fell onto his back beside you and tried to catch his breath. He reached over blindly and let his fingertips dance along your ass.
“Really it ain’t your fault,” he said as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh, “a man must be crazy to leave you all alone at night.”
#lee bodecker#dark lee bodecker#dark!lee bodecker#lee bodecker x reader#The Devil All The Time#fic#dark!fic#dark fic#one shot#au#70s
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The Sacrifice Part 2 - The Maze Runner Minho Imagine
Request from @elizabeth-brown: hey when your requests will be open can you do 'the maze runner' one with minho. where one day when new greenie was coming up he had letter with him. on it there was written that if they sacrificed y/n they would let everyone out. so keepers decided to vote. most of them voted 'yes' so without any emotions Alby kick y/n into the maze. then minho realized his feelings. y/n survived the maze and WCKED took her. after one year she escaped WCKED and ran into the scorch. Minho missed her miserably. y/n searched the safe heaven. and when Group A searched safe heaven they saw y/n and she was so mad. you can end it however you want either she forgives them or not. and please tag me
Masterlist
Part 1
Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the kind words! I really appreciate all of it! :)
Word Count: 3.8k
The sun was rising. You stared up at it as you walked, your cracked lips parted, mouth dry beyond belief. The cloth you’d wrapped around your head was already growing warm. Beneath your long-sleeved shirt and jeans, your body was scarred with sunburns. Your backpack hung heavy on your shoulders and scraped against your back painfully. Still, you kept walking through the sand.
Crumbling buildings lined the barren street. At the end, next to an intersection, you saw one that still had an intact roof. You willed yourself to move faster, but your steps continued in the same plodding manner as before. The sun beat down heavier.
A dry wind whispered past, bringing swirls of sand to flight. They looked beautiful in the golden rays of the morning but cut like glass as they whipped past your cheeks. With a grimace, you reached a weathered hand up and pulled some loose cloth farther over your face, squinting your eyes for protection. The sound of your heavy breathing filled your ears.
How familiar that was. How familiar exertion was. Before you could stop yourself from thinking, from remembering, you saw his face. He was by your side, smiling, goading you to run faster. He was betting you that he could reach the doors first.
“If I win, you owe me half your dinner,” came his playful tease, so vividly that you almost thought it was real. If you let your gaze wander, you could barely make out a mirage of him jogging ahead of you.
What was it you’d said, back in that other life, where you ran the Maze and lived in the Glade and weren’t as alone? You smacked your lips together now, looking for any moisture, and croaked, in a hoarse voice, “What do I get if I win?” The effort made you cough. Stopping in your tracks, you doubled over hacking. You expected to see the worn stone of the Maze beneath your feet, but there was only sand. Knives scraped your throat. You tasted blood.
“You can have anything you want,” Minho responded. You lifted your head, hoping for a glimpse of his face and seeing only sand.
Tears filled your eyes. You wanted Minho with you, right now. You wanted to not be alone. You wanted to not be here, to not have made any of these choices, to not have to keep going and keep trying and keep surviving all because of one promise. You wanted to reach the doors -- no, not the Maze doors, never the Maze doors again, the doors to a crumbling building in a crumbling town in the sun-baked, sand-ridden, abandoned Scorch.
Straightening up, you started for the building again. You reached it in a few long, purposeful strides. The door hung half off its hinges. You slipped inside, shutting it as best you could behind you, hoping that would keep at least some sand out. The inside was blessedly dark. The front room seemed kind of like a cafeteria, with a few tables and chairs and a long counter at the back. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you remembered the last cafeteria you’d been in. You wanted to spit on this place as payback.
Instead, you walked behind the counter, sunk to your knees, shrugged off your backpack, and curled into a ball. Your head pounded. You squeezed your eyes closed, pressed your palms to your temples, tried to hold back any more tears. The memory of Minho floated to the front of your mind again.
“No need to cry,” you could hear him saying. You could almost feel him tuck a finger under your chin, like he’d done before, and raise your head. “I’m still here.” And then you opened your eyes, hoping to see that cocky grin that would make the whole world would seem a little better.
But Minho wasn’t there. You weren’t in the Glade anymore. You weren’t even with WICKED anymore. You were somewhere in the middle of the Scorch, alone and trying to survive and failing.
With trembling fingers, you unzipped your backpack and pulled out your last bottle of water. It was half-empty. You stared at it numbly. How far could half a bottle of water take you? When you used to run the Maze, a lifetime ago, you never went in without at least one canteen full. Minho had teased you during your first run for taking three. You wondered what he would say now.
“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll get out together.” That’s what he would say. That’s what he had said, right before you went into the Maze for the last time.
I tried, Minho. You wanted to scream it out to the Scorch, let every damn Crank within a hundred miles of you hear it. Maybe Minho would hear it too, back at the WICKED compound, back in the Glade. He said he would find you. You’d repeated his words so many times in your head that they were practically imprinted in your brain. They were like a touchstone, something you remembered for luck and courage.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he’d said.
You’d never said it back. You wished you’d said it back.
You forced yourself to stop remembering and took a sip of water. It was like ice filtering through magma cracks, soothing, soothing, soothing, and then gone, evaporating and leaving behind seething bubbles of lava. You wanted more. You wanted so much more for yourself.
You twisted the cap back on and shoved your water into your bag before you did something you’d regret. Leaning against the counter, you let your eyes close. Fatigue made your limbs heavy, and the warm air settled over you like a blanket. You hoped the sun would be gone when you woke up. Then you would walk, as you had for countless nights, with no real directions in mind, only the understanding that you needed to keep moving or else you would die. Somewhere out there, there was a safe haven.
But in your dreams, there was darkness, and in the darkness, there were Grievers. The Maze walls, dripping with ivy, closed in around you as you ran. Your breaths came short and fast, more from fear than effort. You had no bag, no weapons, just the shoes on your feet and a little bit of hope in your chest. But the Grievers were closing in.
Mechanical limbs whirred, slamming against the Maze floor so forcefully the ground seemed to shake. You whipped your head around, caught a glimpse of them, turned back and ran faster, looked again and saw them even closer. Metal clanged together, the sound of razor-sharp fangs gnashing, slick with slime. A rush of wind sliced past your arm. You tried to move faster, just a little faster, just enough to keep narrowly avoiding the Griever’s claws, just enough, please, just enough to make it to sunrise--
A wave of fire burned a line across your back. The pain was white-hot, so bad you couldn’t keep your eyes open, you were stumbling and faltering and barely moving and the Griever was going to get you, only with your next step you felt nothing but open space and then you were falling and falling and falling.
You hit the ground so hard the air went out of you, and only then did you realize you’d been screaming. A moment of shock passed. Then you shrieked again. Your back burned with pain, but it wasn’t fire, not like you’d thought at first, it was a cut, huge and sprawling and parting the flesh of your back. Blood drenched your shirt. You screamed, blind with pain and fear, waiting for the Griever to finish you off or sting you and send you into a spiral of even greater misery.
Something grabbed your arms, hoisted you up, strapped you down. The Grievers have me, they’ve got me, they’re going to kill me, you thought, even as you felt human hands and heard human voices and saw human faces.
“No!” You caught a glimpse of one of them holding a syringe, a Griever in disguise. Twisting away, trying to avoid it, you let out a scream so loud you thought your vocal cords would be torn to shreds, just like your back, just like the ravaged mess that was left of your back. The needle pierced your skin.
Immediately, your yells dropped off. The people or the Grievers or the Grievers masquerading as people laid you face down on a stretcher. You couldn’t move your neck, or your arms, or your feet, but every step they took as they carried you sent bolts of lightning through your body. Your face was wet with tears, with blood. The jostling stopped. Every nerve in your body rebelled in pain, and then there was a cold hand on your cheek, forcing your chin up. Grinning down at you was the face of the devil.
You woke now with a start, a cool sheen of sweat coating your body, phantom pains chilling your back. Your heart thundered wildly. Acting on pure instinct, you shot to your feet, looking frantically around the room. She would be there, you were sure of it. The devil, with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, her lips painted red with the blood of her victims.
But the room was dark and empty and you were alone.
You untensed with a long, slow exhalation. Tiny daggers still ran up and down your spine, dancing along the scars the WICKED doctors had said they couldn’t fix.
“An unfortunate variable,” the devil had said about the Grievers, “but necessary.”
Necessary.
You spat on the floor, wishing it was her pristine white cafeteria, half-hoping you’d look up and see her standing there so you could strangle her. But that thought was fleeting and your head shot back up in fear, scanning the room again and again to reassure yourself that Dr. Paige was nowhere to be seen.
When you were sure there was no one lurking in the night-shadowed corners, you hefted your backpack onto your shoulders and made for the door. Outside, the desert air was chill and dry. The occasional wind stirred the sand as you walked, footsteps making quiet whispers along the dusty sidewalk. Moonlight paved the way forward.
Goosebumps covered your arms as you replayed your dream, your memories, over again. Yes, the Grievers had gotten you, but not the ones in the Maze. It was the hidden Grievers, the ones who said they were good, and that they were going to save the world, and that you were helping.
“Thank you for participating, Y/N,” Dr. Paige had said. “I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The data we gathered on the group’s response to a requested sacrifice will prove very useful, I assure you.” And she’d smiled at you. She’d actually smiled, pointy, predatory canines on full display behind her parted red lips. “The data from your response will also be very beneficial. Thank you once more for your participation.”
You were too shocked. You were in too much pain. The synapses in your brain weren’t firing correctly, still stuck trying to piece together that the sacrifice was some kind of test. An unfortunate variable. “What...what happens next?”
Dr. Paige had already left. Someone lower in the chain of command gave you a nonanswer about your role in Phase One being complete.
“But what happens in Phase Two?”
There was no answer to that question, no matter how many times you asked. You asked when you were stable enough to be moved to your own room, when you were compliant enough to walk the halls of the facility with a chaperone, when you were obedient enough to eat in the cafeteria among the staff members.
“WICKED is good,” they’d say. And then they would smile at you.
You shuffled through the sand. Reaching a hand, which you pretended wasn’t trembling, into the side pocket of your bag, you pulled out a meal replacement pouch with WICKED emblazoned on its side. Even as you ate, you worried. The dream loomed over you like a heavy cloud, and your food supply was dwindling. You wished for a sip of water, just a taste, a small trickle to wet your lips, something to help the powdery bar go down.
You wished you’d started hoarding food at WICKED earlier. It was only when you noticed that change was coming, that the air was electric and the people were alive, that you started to slip items from the cafeteria into your bag. The doctors had stopped ordering you in for blood tests and scans, which they had pretended were for your back, and then they stopped sending you a chaperone. It was almost like freedom.
“Code Green. I repeat, Code Green. All personnel begin preparations for Phase Two. I repeat…” The message came over the speakers while you were in your room, a barebones cell with a cot and a desk. In a flash, you were on your feet, pouncing on the opportunity. You slung your WICKED bag over your shoulders, ignoring the discomfort as it pressed into your bandaged back. Peering through the crack in your door, you couldn’t see anyone in the hall. The lights were flashing in time with the announcement, strobes of green slicing across the walls. Holding your breath in anticipation, you tried the door handle. Unlocked.
Heart fluttering, you pulled it open a crack and slipped through, shutting it gently behind you. No chaperone sitting outside. No guards patrolling. No people at all. You bolted down the hall.
Thinking about it now, as you finished your second to last meal replacement, the perishable food long since gone, you wondered why it was so easy.
Phase One. Phase Two. Thank you for your participation. An unfortunate variable. Unfortunate unfortunate unfortunate thank you for participating thank you for the data thank you for trying thank you for dying. Phase Two, I should have raided the cafeteria will you be in the cafeteria, Minho are you in the kitchen? Where are you where am I why is this happening what is--
Welcome to Phase Two.
You crumpled the meal replacement package in your hand and threw it into the air, letting it fly with the wind.
Minho’s voice was in your head. “I’ll raid the kitchen, the Med-jack Hut, bring us weapons.”
You shook your head and it faded. “I would have done it if you were there,” you said. Your voice was a croak. You cleared your throat and tried, “I would have…” The words floated away. I would have tried harder to survive.
“I tried so hard, Minho.” You thought of your bottle of water, only a few sips left. “I tried to wait for you in the Maze, but WICKED took me.” Grievers and white-clothed doctors and searing pain. “I tried to wait for you at WICKED, but...I think they let me escape.” An unlocked door, no patrolling guards. The vast expanse of the Scorch beyond, and a snippet of an overheard conversation about a safe haven at the end. “I tried to reach the end. But I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Sand. So much sand. Lightning storms and a burning, vengeful sun, and a throat so dry it hurt. “I can’t do this anymore.”
And still, you walked. Because there was nothing else to do. Because you were a Runner and Runners never stopped. Because you thought this might be another test, another phase, and you wanted to reach the end. Because the mirage of Minho was nearby, talking.
“We’re almost there,” he said. You rubbed your sand-crusted eyes and tried to find him. “We have to keep going.”
Other voices chimed in, pitched low and hard to hear. You hoped you could hallucinate Newt, too, and maybe Zart and Frypan, who had tried to help, had tried, just like you tried. You moved faster, feet cleaving through drifts of sand.
“There it is!”
You missed the sound of an excited Minho. You remembered the first time he’d had a little too much to drink at a bonfire, and he’d picked you up and twirled you around. You’d never smiled so much.
The memory used to be good, then it turned painful, and now you were just numb.
You kept walking. Around you, the city was fading into sand. Ahead stood a tall dune. You wanted to stop and stare and convince yourself to turn around. But you kept walking. Behind the dune, you’d see Minho and Newt and Zart and Frypan and maybe even Alby, and maybe you would forgive Alby, or maybe not, but you would still see him because everyone would be there.
You boot punched a hole into the sand dune, sending streams of gritty yellow dust cascading down the slope. Stepping forward again, you sunk into sand up to your mid-calf. Again and again, and then you stumbled and fell in up to your elbows, and still, you crawled.
“We can do this,” Minho said, from somewhere above or behind or by your side. He was climbing with you, barely out of sight. His playful grin was audible.
“Bet I can beat you to the top,” you said before he could.
“What do I get if I win?” he asked.
You smiled and there were tears in your eyes and sand on your cheeks. “You can have anything you want.” And you climbed higher.
“I want you to say it back. Please say it back, Y/N. Please.” His voice was fading. You were leaving him behind as you neared the top.
Sand burrowed into the lines of your face, past the seams of your clothes, finding every nook and cranny of your body to hide in. It was in your mouth, your ears, your eyes. You struggled to breathe. Your head felt as light as a cloud. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you finally promised as you reached the empty crest. Still on hands and knees, you peered over the other side of the dune. The slope was empty. Everything was empty.
You rolled onto your back, eyes shut against the fading night sky. Your arm bumped against something stiff. Reaching a hand out blindly, groping for it, you came back with a stick. You looked at it through squinted eyes. Atop the stick was a flag, and on the flag in big, thick letters, the same font WICKED used for everything, were the words, “Safe Haven.”
You laughed. The bitter chuckle was alone in the Scorch. Overhead, the sky was lightening, and soon you would be alone in the daylight of the Scorch, alone in the Safe Haven.
Shrugging your backpack off, you reached inside for your water and the last of your food. The bottle was empty. You didn’t remember finishing it, but you figured you must have. You chucked it to the side, listening as it rolled down the sand dune. You wouldn’t need that anymore. The air grew warmer as dawn approached and you opened your last meal replacement. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could hear voices. You wondered if you were going crazy, decided you didn’t care because you had tried Minho I really tried I’m sorry please promise me I’ll see you tomorrow please don’t let it end like this please.
You took a bite of the crumbling meal replacement bar and immediately spit it back out. It had soaked up the last bit of moisture in your mouth. You tossed the package to the side, where you’d abandoned your water and your will.
The sky grew pink and orange and yellow, and, finally, there was the sun, high in the sky, and you had no idea how much time had passed while you stared, and you didn’t care. There was no further destination in mind. This was it. And with the sun up there and you down here, you hoped that maybe this wouldn’t count as dying alone.
“There it is!” Minho again. Funny how he kept saying that. And then the voices of the other Gladers chimed in again. You wondered if you would keep replaying that moment until you finally passed. You wondered how it would feel. You wondered if there was water on the other side.
The sand rushed down the sides of the dune in waterfalls. You could hear it, even if you didn’t have the energy to look. It sounded like a whisper. Beneath the whisper was the panting of a group of people.
Runners, you thought. All of the Runners before and all of the Runners after, coming to take me away. Would Minho be among them? Was he dead, like you and like those sad souls who’d been killed by the Grievers (An unfortunate variable, but necessary) and all of the people who’d gotten the Flare, which you barely understood because no one had answered any of your questions?
Why is this happening and where am I going and what do I do and how did I get here and when can I go home, please bring me home, I want to go home and I want to see Minho one last time because I never promised him back and I should have.
“Y/N?”
Minho. You didn’t have the energy to speak or even open your eyes to see the hallucination.
“Y/N!” Feet pounding against sand, then hands on your arms, looping around your back, pulling you close and shielding you from the sun. “Wake up, Y/N. Clint!”
No, Clint wasn’t supposed to be here. Clint had voted for you to be sent into the Maze. You were pretty sure you used to hate him for that, but hate took so much energy, and you just wanted to pretend Minho was holding you until you didn’t have to think anymore.
The people nearby talked unintelligibly, oscillating between murmurs and gleeful shouts. There was cotton in your ears and a blindfold over your eyes and strong hands on your back, propping you up. Then there was a splash of water on your face and the world opened up again.
There was Minho. Better than in your memories, because he was here, in full color, so perfect you needed to squint. He was on his knees and holding you. Above, Clint was pouring water over your head. All around you were Gladers.
“Minho?” you croaked, although there was no question who it was. Dark brown eyes, now filled with tears. Full lips curved up in a smile. Scatters of freckles across his cheeks. Minho.
Minho nodded and pulled you into a hug. “I thought…” he trailed off. Then he laughed, a sound so bright and so happy that the water on your skin felt a touch cooler, the sun on your shoulders a shade dimmer. “I should’ve known you’d survive.”
“There’s no safe haven,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.
Minho shook his head, still buried in your neck. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Smiling, you pressed a hand to his cheek, coaxing him to look at you. When he did, you leaned in and finally felt at home.
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Author's Note: I wanted to put a longer, more serious note at the end instead of the beginning so I wouldn't deter any newcomers from reading. I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for letting me try out this style! I'm not very happy with how this turned out but it was good practice. Hopefully, I can use this experience and write better pieces in the future. Thanks again for letting me experiment and for the encouragement. And my requests are always open :)
Tag List: @officialfictionalwreck @elizabeth-brown @newtsgirl-hehe @jjjmaybank @adoregin
#minho#maze runner minho#the maze runner minho#minho imagine#minho x reader#the maze runner imagine#minho preference#minho preferences#minho imagines#maze runner imagine#maze runner imagines#maze runner preference#maze runner preferences#maze runner x reader#tmr#maze runner#the maze runner#tmr minho#tmr minho imagine#tmr minho imagines#tmr minho x reader#tmr minho preferences#tmr minho preference#maze runner minho imagine#maze runner minho imagines#maze runner minho preference#maze runner minho preferences#maze runner minho x reader#the maze runner minho imagine#the maze runner minho imagines
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Yes, Always
Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo try to pick up the pieces, what does love look like?
Gojo Satoru x reader
Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version
Genre: Mostly fluff, lil bit of domestic angst, exes to friends to lovers (wc: 1.8k)
“How on earth are you still bed when the sun is setting? Gojo Satoru dramatically bursts into your apartment. The door flings open and you’re sure the knob dented the wall.
You don’t even blink. His theatrics rarely faze you anymore. You shift on your bed to face the wall.
You don’t have energy for this.
Gojo knows you since your childhood. You hadn’t always been so easy to tire. But Jujutsu work was a lot. It accumulated fatigue that drained you physically and emotionally ever so often.
“You cancelled on Ieri, I knew something was up and I was right!” he placed his hands on his hips. He walks over to you.
You yawn and ignore him.
Gojo opens a window and pulls out your covers in response.
“Hey!” you yelp.
“You go shower while I make you something to eat.” he commands.
You continue to ignore him.
He tries to haul you off the bed and into the tub.
You finally sit up, crossed beyond words. He kneels down so he can look up to you.
“You need a warm shower. It will help you feel better, I promise.” he says firmly, “Get yourself some fresh clothes. I’ll run you a bath.” His tone is is a mix of stern and gentle in away you don’t hear often.
You grudgingly get up and do as he says.
You drag yourself off the bed and into the bathroom. As you body soak in the hot water, the fatigue peel off and you feel re energised. You look up at the steam that floats around you.
Your reverie is interrupted by the kitchen noises.
Why was he doing this? You thought to yourself. This wasn’t like him to cross the boundaries of your home and to check up on you. Sure you were dating, but coming over was way too cozy for Gojo who only ever dated casually.
You walk out in new clothes, hair still dripping wet.
Gojo had set up a pot over a portable stove on your dinner table with some food already boiling away. The smell of dinner on the way was already wafting in the air.
“Thanks for doing this.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his chest.
Gojo resists the urge to pull away or look extremely nonchalant. He’a never been good with commitment or sincere expressions pf affection.
“The water was nice.” you added.
He carefully plants his hand your nape and press your forehead on his lips. You body is still warm from the shower. It still shocks him how close he can hold you.
“If you like the water so much we can go swimming in the summer.” he nods, “I’ve always wanted to go to Okinawa and go diving or snorkeling.”
You briefly pull away, “If we’re still seeing each other.”
He hesitates, “We will.”
“How do you know we’ll last till then?”
“I just do.” he pushes.
“Sure,” you take tour arms off him.
Gojo is not good at commitment. It is hard for him to sustain his interest in any one person, which you’ve accepted when you began dating him. Your set-up isn’t even exclusive. Why was he kidding himself?
Now that you’ve detached yourself from him. He heads back to the kitchen counter.
“Because this is the hardest I’ve tried.” he replies softly, “I’m concerned about you you think and how I make you feel. I don’t think I can take the weight of disappointment if things spiral a second time.”
You look at him as he prepares so vegetables. Gojo was your technically your ex-fiancee. You thought the break-up freed him. Maybe you weren’t completely right.
This is your second shot of your relationship. Why are you surprised that he’s trying so hard? Why is it difficult for you to believe in his sincerity?
“Okinawa sounds nice, I want some oysters.” you reply, taking out some bowls and chopsticks.
“I want to see you in a bikini.” He smirks.
You instinctively throw a towel at him. He dodges with a grin.
As the meatballs begin to cook, you both take a seat. Gojo recalls his conversation with his student earlier today.
“Yuuji,” Gojo called out as he enters the kitchen, “I need you to teach me how to make meatballs. I’m bringing them over for a friend.”
Itadori Yuuji is busy cutting up some mushrooms. Must be hotpot night again for the students.
“Here take this, this is ready made.” he pulls out a container of meatballs from the fridge.
“Aren’t you going to teach me how o make it?” Gojo asks his student, slightly perplexed.
“You look like you’re in a rush. I can teach you another time,” Iatdori smiles congenially and waves his hand. He causally takes the meat and scallions from Gojo’s bag and begin prepping them for his meal.
“Is this for you ex-wife?” he causally asks his teacher.
Gojo snorts, “Ex-fiancee. Yeah that one, they’re not feeling well today. I’m going to drop off something to eat.”
“I think it’s kind of nice you’re a second try.” Yuuji grins good naturedly.
“The first time wasn’t really a try. Our engagement was arranged.” Gojo packs some other things onto a bag, “Our marriage would have ended in flames if we had pushed through.”
“Yeah, but even if you had married, I think it would eventually work out. It might take years but you clearly do get along and you’re attracted to each other. You’re both willing to put in the work.” Yuuji reasons.
“Just people try doesn’t mean they always succeed.” Gojo mutters. Yuuji is the eternal optimist.
“Its not gonna work any better if you don try at all. Relationships aren’t a one time task.”
“Why can’t you just teach me? It’ll take just a little bit of time.” Gojo asks again. He slings the bag over his shoulder, ready to head out.
“But a little bit of time is still worth something. More time together is always good.” Yuuji nods.
“Just take it sensei,” Itadori said before he left the school, “Make the most out of today.”
——————————————————————
After dinner, you yawn. Gojo goes over your side and sweeps you off your chair. Your legs are dangling awkwardly over his arms. This feels so new yet strangely comfortable.
“Let’s get you back to bed.”
He looks into your eyes, framed by your lashes. Warmth has returned to your cheeks. Your face is brighter than when he first came.
You lace your arms around his neck.
Gojo has never been to your house on a personal visit before. He doesn’t know how to feel in this new kind of intimacy—an intimacy outside of sex. It is intensely emotional for him to see you at your lowest, at home, without the trappings of your jujutsu powers or even you work coat.
Who were you outside your jujutsu sorcerer? Who were the two of you outside of your jujutsu connections?
“Put me down, I want to stand.” you quietly request. He relents.
When Gojo gets up to do the dishes, you follow. You’re standing side by side, elbows bumping as a creeping sense of domesticity inches up his spine.
Gojo prefers to eat out. Cleaning up after dinner was like breakfast after sex—too much commitment.
“If this is freaking you out, we can stop.” You mumble, quickly reading through him “I can do the dishes and you can just go.”
He’s surprised by the exit you create for him, but he buckles down.
“I’m not running away from anything tonight.” he says. He’s shirking from extra time, not from his feelings and definitely not from you.
He fills his ears with the sound of clanking dishes and your slow and steady breath. His time today was your anyways. Why would he take it back? Domesticity is unfamiliar, but he so badly wants to give it a shot.
After all the dishes are put aside, you wipe his hands dry with the kitchen towel. His heart is racing, his palms sweaty. He thinks about cracking a joke to hide his tension, but decides otherwise.
You eyes look steadily at him, as if testing him to see if he will sat or go. He takes the towel and gently dries off your hands, careful to get in between your fingers and to be gentle around your wrists.
“I’m not going anywhere.” he remarks, “even if you don’t believe me.”
“I’m really trying.” he adds.
“I believe you.” you nod. Some of the tension and discomfort in his face fades.
You walk towards your room, “I’m going to bed. I’m tired.”
He scurries behind you, turning off the lights as he goes “Can I lie down beside you?”
You’re taken by surprise but you don’t let it show.
“Sure.”
Gojo mostly lies on top of the sheets and he watches you tuck yourself in. You look so young like this — pajamas, no make up, no work clothes.
You were arranged to be married by 20 and you look just that age. He notices you staring back at him, inspecting him in this new angle you’re both experiencing for the first time.
“Did you ever think about what our first night would be like?” you ask candidly.
He rolls onto his back and stares into the ceiling, “It would probably be awkward. I’ve thought about taking a sleeping pill to knock myself out. What about you?”
“Just the usual stuff.” you shrug.
“What usual stuff?” he prods.
You make a face and reply, “I guess I expected you’ll about some of my habits that I’m embarrassed about eventually.”
“It’s not the sex?” he asks surprised.
You laugh and shake your head. When you were younger you were curious about it, but once you learned what it was it didn’t seem as interesting to you.
“No, I thought the sex would just make me sad. Judging by the way things were going then, you’d be thinking of someone else while I give myself to you.” you turn away from him as you talk, sheepish to voice your hurt out loud and look at him in the eye at the same time, “You’d make me feel small, like my family did. For most of my life, my only value was to be married to you and I couldn’t even feel good in it.”
Your words heave silence into the room. You don’t know what expression he has on.
“Man, I sound like horrible husband.” he murmurs.
You slowly turn back to him.
“But that was what would have happened if we had married at 20. That’s not us anymore.” you shake your head.
Your faces so close your noses touched.
“What are you doing?” he half-asks.
You press your face to his shoulder. He pulls away a bit to get under the sheets. He wraps an arm around you and uses his other arm to turn off the lights.
“Can I stay tonight?” he breathes in your smell even though he already knows the answer. You feel so impossibly soft against him, he feels the lull of sleep approaching.
“Yes,” you barely whisper, “always.”
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I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check out the other parts!
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8
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#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x gender neutral reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen scenarios#jjk imagines#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo angst
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