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fieldofdaisiies · 6 months

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Alone

ship: Theodore Nott x Hufflepuff!Reader type: angst/fluff word count: 2,6k words warnings: mentions of racist parents, awful parent child relationship, talk of war and Death Eaters summary: Y/N and Theo are childhood friends, when she receives a howler from her mother that breaks her, he is there for her. (I'll blame @azrielscrown for her amazing Theo stories and hence making me want to write about him, and also @moonlightazriel for the tiktok videos she sent me hahaha)

It is quiet. So very quiet. All of a sudden everyone stops talking. There aren’t even any hushed whispers. Nothing.

It is so quite that one could hear a needle drop.

So quiet that even the mice in the smallest nooks and corners of the castle could hear your mother’s voice blaring out of the howler that has just unfolded itself in front of you. Its tongue poking out, the howler spats the exact same words your mother shouted into it in your family manor.

The words drip with venom. Disdain and disappointment lace every spoken syllable.

Your blood runs cold, your chin quivering, as you watch and listen in absolute shock. Your whole body has gone rigid, you don't even dare turn to glance around, not wanting to see the either mocking or pitiful looks of your school mates.

How would she know? How does she know? And why is she so mad?

It was just a school project, not your decision to spend time with him. You had to spend time with Harry Potter — it was for a Potions project, preparing a recipe, trying it out and then presenting it in class. It was project where you were assigned partners. A project where you were forced to spend time together. And even if you don't hate Harry, you would not have chosen to do the project. But you had no choice.

'The shame you brought upon this family by being sorted into Hufflepuff.'

There is a pause, and it is so long, so dreadful, so painful, and you just hope the letter won’t continue talking. Maybe it is over and the letter will just rip itself into shreds — the same shreds your heart has been ripped into when the letter started howling.

Or maybe a hole in the ground will open, and swallow you wholly? A ghost will appear and take you with him? A giant will crash both you and the letter?

But your prayers are ignored. Of course they are…

'And now, now you are doing partner work with him? Spending your free afternoons with him? What comes next? Dating a Muggle? Marrying one?'

'Y/N Y/L/N, in this house I allow none of that!'

Your best friend slides her hand into your cold one, squeezing it tightly. She is the purest and kindest soul Hufflepuff house has ever seen and in this very moment you are more grateful to have her than ever before. She somehow grounds you, stops your body from shaking or convulsing fully.

'I am deeply disappointed. So very much. What you do to this family, the shame you bring upon us.'

That’s how the letter ends. No well wishes, no goodbye, no I love you, no motherly love. Nothing.

You are shocked, sad, embarrassed — feeling too much. Too many emotions. Your heart can’t take them, can’t deal with them all at once and you know you have to leave, get away, escape. Cry. And be alone.

You need to get out of the Great Hall. And that right now.

You know your friends want to support you, comfort you, but sometimes you just need to be alone.

Your voice sounds choked, throat constricted, as you climb over the bench, the howler still in pieces on the table.

"I am sorry, I need to be alone now." You run, weaving your way through the pupils crowded in the Great Hall and the corridors outside. Tears start to burn behind your eyes, clouding your vision and your throat starts to burn.

You run, run until your feet ache, slumping down on the ground, sliding down the ball. And then the damn breaks. Hot, burning tears rolling down your cheeks, as one ragged sob after the other leaves you.

It hurts so much, growing up in a family like this. It is so painful. Your mother's words, laced with venom, still reverberate through your mind, loud and awful, filling every fibre of your being. A cool shiver makes its way down your spine, making you shiver.

You draw in a deep inhale, your breathing shaky, lower lip quivering. Closing your eyes, you let your head rest against the wall, replaying every single word she said to you.

The eerie silence of the corridor and your calm sobs are suddenly interrupted by the faint echo of footsteps nearing. You have no time to make guesses who it could be, finding you sitting behind a corner, back pressed against the wall to almost become invisible.

"Are you…alright?"

It is strange seeing him like this. He is always so confident, so cocky, arrogant, silver-tongued. And not so…reserved, and at a loss for words. Your desperate state has probably shocked him, you think, trying to hold his gaze, but the tears are coming back again.

"I am…fine," you croak, the lie in your voice louder than the Howler you received earlier.

Theo breathes out a cold chuckle. "That was the worst lie I've ever heard, Y/N."

His voice is flat, his expression stoic. He just looks at you, his normally confident demeanour nowhere in sight. "And I thought you Hufflepuffs are those goody-two-shoes who never lie."

You watch how the corner of his mouth tips upwards, but only shortly. He quickly presses his lips in a thin line, something he has always done when thinking deeply. A crease appears on his forehead, eyes solely focused on you.

You have known Theo basically since the day you were born. He is two months older than you, both of you coming from noble pureblood families, your father's had once been good friends, are still probably, but you don't really know. When you were placed in Hufflepuff…things changed.

Also the friendship with Theo changed. He got distanced, you did too. Being friends with him was somehow no longer possible, and still isn't. You are not rude towards each other, he also always stayed out when the Slytherins mocked you and your housemates, but he has also never sought you out to spend time with you…and neither did you.

You have been growing apart and this is alright — some friendships are not forever. Or at least that is what you always tell yourself.

"I…I just had to get out."

He nods, slowly, and in understanding. "I always come here when I want to be alone."

"Yes, that is why I am here, I want to be alone." You hope he gets the memo…that you want to be alone. Fully alone.

Not deigning him another look, you bury your face in your hands again, knees pulled up to your chest. It is not in your nature to be rude to anyone, but…

"I know I should probably leave…" But he moves closer.

"I heard what the howler said and I don’t really want to—"

"Everyone heard what the Howler said." A humourless chuckle escapes you and you lift your head. Theo is already looking at you, his eyes, meeting your red and puffy ones. Pain flashes in his eyes, bright and stark and you feel yourself shiver.

He nods slowly, almost like he wants to tell you it is not the truth, hoping it will ease the pain and discomfort a little, but he says nothing. And that for a long moment. Until—

He closes the distance between the two of you, claiming the spot on the ground beside you.

"I am sorry," he says, stretching out his long legs and leaning his head against the stone wall behind him. "I am so sorry for what she said and that everyone had to hear."

"It is not your fault, you don't have to apologise." You furrow your brows as you turn to look at him.

His eyes are filled with concern. You can still feel the embarrassment, the way the entire hall had turned to watch as the red envelope exploded in a blaze of your mother's fury and rage. Everyone became witness to your misery…

You swallow hard, trying to push the memory aside, but it lingers like an illness that just won't get better.

"Y/N," Theo says, his voice softer than what you are used to. "I can't believe she sent you this letter…"

"Howler," you correct him, wearing a forced smile.

The corner of his mouth curls up, and he casually runs a hand through his hair. "Indeed, a Howler, you smartass."

You chuckle, and playfully nudge him with your elbow. But then you shake your head, take a deep breath and shrug."You know how she is. Always expecting more, always disappointed in me."

Theo reaches out, his hand brushing gently against yours. He does not take your hand into his, just rests it next to yours on the ground, your pinkies touching. "You don't have to listen to her, Y/N. You're so much more than what she thinks of you."

You draw in a shaky breath, thankful about his presence.

Funny, you think. You would not have thought that exactly his presence would bring you so much comfort now. You had wanted to be alone just moments before, but talking to him feels somehow good. "Thank you," you say.

He smiles. "Of course." But he does not look away, keeps holding your gaze, his hand shifting the tiniest bit, his pinkie finger now placed on top of yours.

The dimly lit sconces cast eerie flickers of light upon the stone walls, and also on you two. His lashes look longer in this light, casting shadows across his cheeks, his eyes looking so much deeper. And soon you realise you are staring at him.

It feels like he leans closer, but you could also be mistaken.. And yet, his presence wraps around you, like a gentle embrace or a warm winter coat. And, with his voice barely above a whisper, Theo says. "You deserve so much better than this."

Tears glisten in your eyes once more. His gaze is intense, filled with an emotion you have not really seen on him before. "Thank you for being here for me."

"I am your friend, of course I am."

Your expression must have given you away.

He huffs, and lowers his chin to his chest. "Well, at least I hope we are still friends…"

For a long moment silence stretches out between you because first of all, you did not expect that statement and secondly, you don't know how to answer.

Are you really friends? Still?

You’ve doubted it in the past years, you’ve never talked to each other, unless you had to do so in class. You’ve never spent time together. This is not what you would call a friendship.

"I don't know, are we?" you answer honestly, and a small smile appears on his face. "I can't blame you for not considering me your friend anymore…"

It is still strange seeing him like this. He has never been like this…so vulnerable somehow.

"I know I should have been here for you so much more in these past years."

This is not at all what you expected, and it confuses you greatly. Is he blaming himself for not being here? You also did not reach out to him, you did not seek him out, and you are in different houses.

"There is no blame on you!" Your voice is stronger, firmer, wanting him to see that it is absolute bullshit that he is talking. "Why would you say something like this?"

He shrugs. "I am…" He does not continue, only draws in a deep inhale, and leans his head against the wall. His eyes close for a moment.

There has always been a connection between you, a connection that is still somehow there, even though you might no longer be friends. The kind of friends you once used to be.

You also lean back against the wall, your own eyes closing, his finger still touching yours. It is such a tiny gesture, but you feel it everywhere. Feel him so strongly.

Theo breaks the silence, his voice quieter when he says. "Y/N, I want you to know...I've always cared about you more than just a friend."

Your heart skips a beat, and you open your eyes, turn your head and look up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze. "Theo..."

"I know it's complicated," he continues, his hand now flipping yours over and taking it into his. "I can't pretend anymore. And seriously, if Draco or Blaise would see me like that right now…stumbling over my own words, they would call me the biggest fool on this planet, but I need you to know…"

He groans almost like in frustration, and squeezes your hand.

"In Salazar's name, why is this so fucking hard?" A chuckle escapes him, but you only look at him, not sure if you are ready for his confession.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N. And I have been for the longest time."

Your breath catches in your throat, and a mixture of emotions swirls within you, a whirlwind starting for a whole new reason now. "Theo, I..." You hesitate, not sure what to say.

He smiles and shakes his head. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know. And if you ever need someone to talk to, to be there for you, I'll always be here, I want you to know this."

This is a side of him, you think, only you know. And only you know since this very moment. He has never been like this before, he is not like that to others and it makes your chest warm from the inside.

Tears well up in your eyes again, but this time they're not tears of sadness — they’re tears of happiness and comfort. Without thinking you throw your arms around Theo and hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Thank you, Theo. I... I really care about you too. I want you to know this."

He holds you close, his hand gently rubbing your back. "What happened today, and what is maybe about to come…we'll get through this together. You are not alone in this. I know you have your Hufflepuff friends, but you also have me."

He holds you tightly, and for as long as it takes the pain of the former happenings to ease. The weight of the howler and your mother's hurtful words begins to fade, replaced by the knowledge that you have someone who cares deeply for you by your side. His words and his confession were like balm to your soul, and they make you smile, even when you thought you wouldn't be smiling much this day.

"I am really glad to have you back in my life."

He smiles, a genuine and adorable smile that makes your heart flutter. "I have always been in your life. Maybe we weren't that close, but our bond has always been there."

You nod, and draw in a deep inhale. "You are right."

When more pupils file into the corridors, you know lessons are probably soon about to start. You give his hand a final squeeze and slowly get up. "I'll see you later, Theo."

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take care, Y/N. I'll see you for lunch?"

You nod, a smile on your lips and his eyes momentarily dip to them.

With one last smile, you turn and head toward the Hufflepuff common room, your heart lighter. You know you can talk to him about the issues in your family, and he will listen, because he understands. Understands the pure blood nobility and problems. And maybe, just maybe, there is also a chance for something more between the two of you in the future. He, after all, already confessed his love for you.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin x hufflepuff #harry potter #theo nott #theo nott x reader

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dearsnow · 5 months

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WE’RE BORN AT NIGHT

- in which you hold johnny cade like water, or, christ, you hold him like a knife (you’re worried that your touch brings up unpleasant memories for your boyfriend, but he feels differently. johnny cade x gn!reader, angst -> fluff but still bittersweet bc there’s nothing you can really do but hold him, yes this is based off of who we are by hozier because i am a heathen for the irish man).

word count: 1,022

a/n - my first johnny piece and the first piece that i’ve done in actual months 🥹 this is likely not my comeback though and i’m sorry for that 😭 i will always write and i will probably post most of it, but life has been rocky for me lately and my available free time reflects that. in any case, i hope you enjoy my short return (there will inevitably be more as i work things out), and plsss talk to me about the outsiders and literally anything else because i will most definitely love to hear it.

It’s not often that Johnny Cade comes knocking at your door, despite the fact that he’s been your boyfriend for three months now. He never wants to put you out, he says, but when he shows up with a black eye and hand-shaped bruises on his arm, you usher him inside as quickly as you can.

“What happened?” You murmur, eyes scanning over his injuries.

“Just my old man again.” He hesitates. There’s a sharp edge to his words, like they cut his mouth just to say. “Look, I shouldn’t have come.”

You cut him off, tone brimming with concern. If he doesn’t feel safe with you, with staying at your house when his is dangerous, then you need to try harder to keep his quiet heart intact. “You can always come.”

“I know. I mean, the gang’s all out at a party ‘n I guess I just didn’t know where else to go.” He shifts his stance uncomfortably as you hand him two bags of frozen vegetables. “As much as you say you want me here, I know there are some places where I ain’t welcome.”

You would kill his parents if you could. Fuck, you would send them straight to Hell without a second thought. Anyone that truly knew what was going on in that house would. All you can do, though, is take care of him as well as you’re able to.

“I promise, you’re welcome. More than anyone or anything else. I need you here, when things are rough and when they aren’t. Tell me you’ll come when you can.” You speak.

He looks so beautiful in this light, despite everything. You love him so badly that your heart aches from just the movements of his sad brown eyes. “I will.”

“Good.” You smooth down the collar of his jacket, making careful, delicate movements. You fear that if you go a hair too close, he will shatter like the glass bottles thrown at him. “Let’s go to my room, okay? My parents won’t be home until later. We can get you some rest.”

There’s a small part of Johnny that detests himself for holding you back. You could be doing greater things than pressing a wet rag to his forehead, and yet, you stay. You always stay. No matter how horrible the situation, you stay with a pinky linked around his and a warmth so hopeful he thinks he might implode every time he feels it.

You pull your thick blankets over him, uncaring of his grease and the slightly grungy clothes rubbing against your bedsheets. If he needs you, and god, does he look it, you will always be there.

You’re facing him in bed, hands outstretched to card through his hair, but they don’t make contact. His eyes are lightly closed. You wish you could just touch him, hold his hands between your fingers and warm your feet against his calves. There’s some sort of unbreakable barrier between you when you feel that your every movement could send him spiraling into memories of an unkind fist. And yet, an unconscious twitch sends your leg just a centimeter forward to touch his. If you think real, real hard about it, you might have felt him jolt.

“I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable, Johnny.” You whisper, shifting your legs so they’re no longer against him. “I’m real sorry. I know sometimes you don’t like that kind of stuff.”

“No.” He starts, opening his eyes. The rasp in his voice makes your heart sting like a bee’s last breath. “I like it, I mean, I think I do.” His gaze turns towards yours again, brimming with a kind of beautiful emotion, and his fingers move towards your sleeve. “It kinda… it tells me a bit that fingers ain’t always gonna ball up in fists and a palm against my cheek don’t have to hurt.” He breathes. You stare at him. He likes it? Lord, he likes it, and you like it, and you will die if you cannot swathe your entire body around him like you’re trying to keep him together. “‘S like you hold me like water, or, I dunno, a knife. Real gentle and secure n’ such.”

You travel the distance between you, tenderly wrapping your arms around his midsection. He pulls you closer, and suddenly, you feel complete.

If he was being honest, Johnny thinks you saved him. His whole life, he chased and chased the peace that evaded him every second of every day. Like a dog, kicked and dark-eyed, he put his nose to the ground and simply smelled the greater things on the horizon. They were out of reach to him, the silence just barely kissing the tip of his head before dancing so far away he couldn’t reach it if he sprinted. But you, God, you gave him everything he could ever want.

When merciful you came waltzing into his life, he thought nothing could ever be quite so horrible again. You have a forgiving hand and a quiet smile, laced with words that tickle his cheeks rather than grinding him into the earth. When he can reach out to you, gripping your warm arm like a lifeline, everything makes sense. He wouldn’t give that up for the world. He drinks in the affection you give him like sand in a bone-dry desert, and the thought that you could ever be worried about how much you love sets his heart ablaze.

“I’m glad.” You whisper. He can feel your breath against his shirt, and it makes him shiver in a pleasant way. “I love you.“

His breath hitches, heart picking up its pace, as he gently buries his warming face into the top of your head. “I love you too. And… and if you’re here, I want to be here forever.”

He squeezes you just a little bit, just enough to let you know that he never wants to let you go.

“Then I’m never leaving.” You smile. He smiles back, and for the first time that night, he thinks that he might be able to do more than just survive.

#solar eclipse.#johnny cade x reader #johnny cade #johnny cade headcanons #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fandom #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders hcs #fanfic #angst #fluff

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norwegiankafka · 4 months

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Nightmare [Joker, Fluff]

Synopsis: You woke up in the middle of the night because of nightmare. Little did you realize, you're not the only one woken up.

a/n 𖦹 joker fluff bc I saw not a lot of ppl doing this hehe. hope you like it!

tw & cw ✰ cursing.

Sweats starts beads your forehead. The air that surrounds you starts pressuring you, as if there is an invisible power that suck up all of the oxygen. Your ragged breathing and aircon sound is all you hear in the middle of the night. You huffs, mentally noting yourself to not watch horror movies prior to sleeping in the night. Duly noted.

You try looking at the clock, which fails, because the lights are off and there's barely a light coming from outside, neither inside. Joker sleeps soundly without a care in the world, faint snores could be heard. When you turn on your phone briefly, to check the time, he grunts a little bit in his sleep. Maybe the light from your phone displeased him, since he always sleeping in a near pitch black room. You reached your hand to rub his back repetitively, in order to lull him back to sleep. He responds by rubbing his disheveled blue-ish gray hair to your neck.

Your throat feels really dry, and you need to grab a glass of water, like, right now. But Joker, who obviously didn't know, latched himself better on your body. Personal body heater, heh. He starts pulling you onto his direction, trying to find a comfortable position in his sleep. And then he starts snoring softly, again.

You starts to lift Joker's hand. Damnit. Should've known better that his hand is heavy as fuck. Why is his hand are so heavy?

With all your willingness left in your body in the middle of the night, you are finally free from his hold and now are sitting in the bed, trying to figure way out of his room without using any lights.

Poor you, there's a bag that he often bring to competition, which you cannot see, in the pitch-black room. Your feet suddenly kicked the bag.

"Ow! What the fuck-" You yelled. Shit. He's awake now.

"Where d'you wanna go?" He mumbles groggily, not fully awake and still registering things that's happening.

"'M just gonna grab glass of water. Go back to sleep, Jo." You close the door as you finished your sentence.

Tiptoeing around his house, you grab a glass of water and drink them. Water never tastes as good as 3 am water, you think. Putting back your glass to the sink, you go back to his room.

Little did you know, Joker wasn't sleeping again after you left him to grab a glass of water. He just kinda lays there, eyes open staring at the ceiling with his hands under his head.

"You're back."

"Mhm." You hum for an answer.

You get under the covers, meeting his warm, soft skin under the duvet. He, absentmindedly reaching for your waist, putting his arms around it perfectly, as if it was perfectly sculptured for his arms. His arms only.

"You're having nightmares again, d'you?" Joker's voice breaks the silence. "Why don't you wake me up, hm?"

"Don' wanna disturb your sleep. You looks," You comb his hair out of his hair. Something that he'd never wanna do, but let you nevertheless. "so tired after the competition. I'm fine, really. Go sleep."

He grunts a little, letting out an annoyed sigh, (you know he didn't meant it) "Just let me take care of you next time, 'kay?"

He holds you flush upon his body, rubbing your back repeatedly. Just the way you always like it. You breathe slowly after the time passed, surrounded by his faint perfume scent and soap. You feel drowsier. By the time the clock hits 3 in the morning, you finally asleep, wrapped in his arms, snug and sound.

Joker, later kisses your forehead and temple slowly. "I just want you to know that I'm always here for you, whenever you need me, baby."

He dozes off, following you a little later.

#windbreaker #joker windbreaker #joker windbreaker x reader #joker wb x reader #joker wb

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theeoriginals · 1 year

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soft touches

summary: after a rough night, joel miller proves that he is soft in his own way

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of y/n)

a/n: absolutely no one asked for this but here i am, pining over a man that's old enough to be my father. also yea i think we all saw the joel/tess scene in the first episode and went a little insane

warnings: mentions of violence, tlou spoilers (i guess ?), i have not played the game so this is purely based off of the show. angst, but mostly just yearning and soft thoughts mentions of tess, but this kind of exists outside of canon so it doesn't really matter

It was supposed to just be a simple trade, but lately, everyone in the QZ has been on edge. It's not all that surprising that they try to ambush her, but after living this life for so long, she's never unprepared.

Even with her over preparedness, she doesn't manage to get out of the fight scrape-free, and she almost dreads going home for a second before she sucks it up and begins the trek through the abandoned buildings and dank alleyways. It's dark now, luckily, and it had rained until the sun went down, so her boots are practically caked in mud when she finally reaches her building.

Like every time she makes it back safely, in mostly one piece, she spares a silent thanks to whoever's listening that kept her from getting busted by a FEDRA agent. For the most part, they knew who she was because of Joel, and they left her alone in fear of him cutting their supply off, but there was always a straggler that wanted to prove a point. Even after 20 years of this, FEDRA agents still tried to pull ridiculous power plays.

She uses the edge of a stair to scrape a majority of the mud off of her boots before she stomps her way up to the old apartment, announcing her presence to the man most likely waiting up for her.

There's little fanfare when she opens the door and forces her boots off her feet, and the dim light provided by the lanterns and candles cast shadows over her face until she stands upright.

Unconciously, a smile pulls at her lips when she sees the familiar face sitting before her, and she sees the barest hints of relief on his face up until he sees the dried blood on the corner of her mouth, and the bruise already forming beneath her eye.

"Joel..."

He barely lets her get his name out before he's in front of her, hands gently turning her face to examine the extent of the damage. "What happened?"

She sighs, attempting to shake him off. "Joel, I'm fine,"

"You don't look fine,"

"Oh, thank you," She huffs. "You really know how to flatter a girl."

Joel gives her a deadpan look, entirely unamused at her sarcasm. Heaving another sigh, she brings a hand to cover his where it lays on the curve of her jaw. "Tell me what happened."

"I went to go meet the guy like I told you, and he tried to get away with everything. I guess he thought I was just some messenger, so he tried to rough me up. Obviously it didn't work, because I'm fine."

"And him?"

"Well, I don't think he'll be leaving that building without some help."

A distant gleam of humor glimmers in Joel's honey-colored eyes, but his relief of her wellbeing takes over whatever pride he may feel at her handling the situation with what was most likely a show of explosive violence.

Gesturing to one of two chairs at the lopsided kitchen table, he pushes her towards it and she takes a seat, eyes watching as he grabs the bottle of whiskey off the top of the fridge and an old rag that would probably have to be thrown out soon.

He pulls up the other chair in front of her and she scoots forward so her knees slot in between his legs, and Joel mutters something unintelligible as he douses the rag in the whiskey and lifts it to her split lip.

"Might hurt," Is all the warning she gets before he swipes it along the skin and she jerks at the initial touch, eventually settling and letting the faint stinging become a faint sensation in the back of her mind.

When he moves on from her lip, swiping across the dried blood from a scrape on her cheekbone, she looks at him with exhaustion suddenly setting into her bones.

"I got the ration cards, by the way,"

He stops briefly, eyes flicking down to her mouth before he looks back up into her eyes. "What?"

"I didn't let him get away with the ration cards like he tried," She supplies, seeing the words process in his mind.

Joel blinks slowly, pulling away from her slightly before he shakes off whatever thoughts had been running through his mind. "Stubborn girl,"

A smile pulls at her lips and closes her left eye, letting him poke and prod at the swelling with minimal wincing. "It worked out in our favor, though, huh? We'll be eating good for a week straight, baby,"

Joel huffs out a breath, giving her an exasperated look as he finally sets the rag down on the table. "You're lucky it wasn't more than one guy."

"Right, 'cause I'm obviously on my deathbed. I'm a frail, weak little girl who can't fight or–"

"Alright, smartass," He covers her mouth with his hand, cutting her off with a stern look she dutifully ignores. "Next time I'm coming with you."

Pushing his hand off her mouth, she rolls her eyes. "I doubt there will be a next time. Most people don't do business after you break a chair over their back, but you know what? We can certainly try."

"You broke a chair–"

"Who did what isn't important," She stands from the chair, shucking her jacket off as she walks back towards the bed. "What is important is I'm home now, and it's my turn to keep watch, so–"

"Go lay down."

She pauses, jacket sleeves still stuck halfway down her arms as she turns to look at him. "What?"

He points to the old mattress, giving her a look like she was crazy for thinking she would be doing anything else. "Bed."

"Right... but you heard me just now, when I said it was my night to watch the radio?"

He nods slowly, still looking at her like she was stupid. He had a way of doing that, a look that she sometimes thought was just for her, because it wasn't like the other times he looked at people like they were stupid. This one at least had some warmth behind it, but then again, she always thought Joel was warm. Tess had called her delusional more than once, but everyone was a little delusional in their own way, especially in the world they lived in now.

"Yeah," He shrugs, still watching her. "But that was before you came back here looking like you got your ass beat. So now you're going to sleep, and I'll keep watch."

And– he'd kind of just insulted her again, but there was unwavering concern and fondness in his words, so she knew it was useless to try and argue. He was stubborn at the best of times, and completely unbearable at the worst, and she knew that Joel Miller was a man used to getting his way, one way or another.

So, she shrugs her jacket off the rest of the way and practically falls into the bed, her exhaustion catching up with her with the sudden permission to sleep.

Minutes pass in silence as her eyes grow heavier, and in the last moments of consciousness, she hears the creaking floorboards shift under his boots as he walks over to her.

A calloused palm rests on her cheek and she hums lowly, unable to keep her eyes open as she leans into the touch. "Joel,"

"Go to sleep, honey." His voice is low and gravelly, and it's the last thing she hears as she slips into the escape of the dreaming world.

The last thing she feels is the press of his lips on her forehead, and she has the fleeting thought that yes, she may be a little delusional when it came to Joel, but she wasn't that far out of reach with her thoughts. Not when he treated her like she was this soft, breakable thing that deserved nothing but soft touches.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #joel miller smut #the last of us fic rec #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #joel miller hbo #tess servopoulos

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sunflowersandsapphires · 10 months

Text

Dead for a Moment

Wake Up-- Chapter 3

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, description of anxiety and a panic attack, fluff

a/n: So sorry that I left you all hanging!! This is my first multi-chapter fic and I now realize I should’ve written a couple chapters before I started posting. Now that I am getting the hang of things, I am planning on updating this one every Friday! (I already have the next chapter ready to go!) Please reblog, comment, and feel free to send me asks/requests :)

w/c: 1.6k (the next one is longer, I promise!)

Matt shook Judge Hanover’s hand. “It was great catching up, your honor. Have fun in Rome!” The judge chuckled and squeezed Matt’s hand before reentering the crowd to chat with another attendee.

Taking a moment to assess the room, Matt frowned, realizing you still hadn’t returned to the event. He made his way over to where Foggy and Karen were gathered, asking if they’d seen you.

“Last I noticed, she was with you and Hanover. You two scare her off?” Foggy asked in jest, but Matt’s discomfort grew.

“No, she excused herself but never came back.” Focusing his hearing towards the back of the room, he desperately waited for some indication of your whereabouts. He couldn’t hear your voice, or smell your subtle perfume.

“Foggy, can you…”

“Yah, of course bud. The bathrooms are this way.”

As they got closer to the southern wall of the venue, he heard it—your heartbeat. It was frantic, outside the back entrance of the building.

“She left out the back door. Something’s wrong.” Matt whispered, urgently.

“Go find her, man. Karen and I will make something up.”

Matt squeezed Foggy’s arm and began walking towards the exit as quickly as he could without causing a scene.

Once outside, Matt rushed over to your shaking form, your gasping breaths echoing in his ears. He called your name, “what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Matty?” You wheezed as he crouched next to you.

“Yes it’s me. I’m right here, angel. Can I touch you?” His hands hovered near you as he desperately waited for your permission. Collapsing against his chest, you gave a stifled sob.

Instinctively, his arms wrapped around you. “Breathe, sweet thing. You’re gonna make yourself sick. Follow my breaths ok?” He slowly maneuvered one of your hands over his chest so you could feel it rise with each inhale. He could feel you struggling to imitate as your other hand clenched around his suit jacket.

“You’re doing so well, angel. Keep breathing for me. I got ya.” He sat the two of you down, with his back against the alley wall. Pulling you into his lap, he stroked your back as your hyperventilating started to wane.

“That’s it. Just like that, sweetness.” He murmured into your hair as he held you. Your heart rate was still rapid, but you were at least taking in air again.

“I’m—I’m so sorry.” Your voice was hoarse and Matt felt downright mournful hearing how broken you sounded.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, sweet thing. Not one thing.” He assured you, lips moving against your hairline. “Whenever you’re ready, we can get outta here, ok?”

“And go wh—where?” Your ragged breaths were forcing you to stumble over your words.

“Wherever you want. My place isn’t too far but we can go to yours if you’d be more comfortable.”

“Yours is good.” Still slightly breathless, you push back from him and start to stand up. You wobbled viciously, and would’ve fallen back to the pavement if it weren’t for Matt’s quick reflexes. “Easy, easy. We don’t have to go yet, we can wait another minute.” He rubbed his hands over your arms, looking at you with a furrowed brow.

“No, I want to go. Please, Matt.” Turning to him with glassy eyes, you begged. You needed to get as far away from this place as possible if you wanted to avoid another panic attack.

“Ok, sweetness. Let’s go.” Adjusting his hold on you so that your arms are linked, he took your hand. “My place is a couple blocks west of here. Did you want to get a cab?”

“No, I’m ok.” He gave your hand a squeeze, leading you back to his apartment.

———————————————————————————————————

Once you were inside Matt’s loft, you felt exhausted. The emotional toll of your anxiety attack had finally set in. As always, Matt seemed to sense the change in your energy.

“Sit down, love.” He tenderly tugged you over to the couch and helped you sit. “Take off those stiff shoes, do you want to borrow some comfier clothes?”

“Yes please.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Matt tenderly squeezed your arm. “I’ll be right back.”

You slipped off your heels and rubbed at your face. The tear tracks had burned itchy trails through your makeup. The familiar lights from the billboard outside Matt’s place danced across the living room. As you took in your surroundings, a wave of guilt and embarrassment crashed over you. Biting at your lip, you realized you had just dragged Matt away from his friends and a great networking opportunity for, what? An emotional outburst because some lady had brought up your old coworker? Because she didn’t think you were pretty or interesting?

Matt padded back into the room, holding a pair of sweats and a crew neck sweatshirt. “Here, sweetness. You remember where the bathroom is?”

“Mmhmm” you nodded, taking the clothes and heading to change.

Matt let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. What the hell had happened to you? When the two of you were milling about, your pulse had been steady. You’d seemed confident, almost happy to be there. Who had ruined that for you?

You shuffled around in his bathroom as you changed. Matt shrugged off his suit coat and loosened his tie. Removing his glasses, he moved to the kitchen to fill two glasses with water. Dutifully listening to you, he heard your breath shudder as you held back a sob. Clenching his hands around the glasses, he moved to set them on the coffee table. Pacing over to the bathroom, he hesitated a minute before knocking softy on the door.

“Need anything else, sweetness?” His question was quiet and he impatiently waited for a response. You moved towards the door, opening it carefully before staggering into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Matt. I ruined everything.”

“What do you mean, angel? How did you ruin everything?”

Tears were welling up in your eyes again. “You left because of me. I stopped you from enjoying yourself.” You tried to pull back from him but he kept holding you close.

“Hey, don’t worry your pretty head about that, ok? I told you before, you get to call the shots. I know these events make you nervous. Leaving is always an option.”

You nodded against his chest, biting your lip. He kissed the top of your head firmly, stroking your back. The pair of you remained woven together for a moment as you calmed down. When your breathing had steadied a bit, Matt pulled back and faced you.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Those events never have enough food.” Matt grinned at you, trying to at least get you to crack a smile. “Want to order something?”

“Yah, that sounds good.” You scrubbed a hand at your face and let him lead you back to the couch. After he had you nestled into his side, Matt placed an order to his favorite Thai place. You weren’t really hungry, but you doubted he’d be letting you leave without eating.

Waiting for your meal to arrive, you could practically feel Matt holding himself back, giving you space. It must’ve been killing him to not know what happened when you stepped away. Absentmindedly, he ran his hand over your arm. You sighed, turning your face into his neck.

“It was Snyder.”

“What?” He pulled back, head tilting in confusion.

“She’s the one who—the reason I freaked, it was Snyder.”

A low growl emanated from Matt’s chest, rumbling through you. “What the hell did she do?”

“It was stupid, Matty. I mean—“

“It wasn’t stupid.” He murmured, in that same deep rumble. “If it upset you to that degree, it wasn’t stupid.” A dark rage burned in his eyes. You’d never seen this side of him before. Other people might’ve been frightened, but you tugged him closer, pressing up against him again. He relaxed a tiny bit, letting you pull his arms around you like a security blanket.

“She just…she called me pathetic. Said I wasn’t good enough to date you, that I stole my job. It was just some jealousy-induced bullshit.”

“She what?” You let Matt pull away this time. He stood from the couch, pacing angrily. “How fucking dare—“

“Matt, really. It’s ok, I overreacted.” You offered, turning to watch him as he tugged at his hair with frustration.

“No, you didn’t. She shouldn’t have—“ Matt inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. He knelt before you.

“You did not overreact. She’s an asshole who’s upset because she can’t have the younger man she’s been pursuing for years. You’re allowed to be upset, what she said was cruel.” His eyes flitted around you, distressed.

“We aren’t actually dating, Matt. I shouldn’t care so much about her opinion of us!”

“Your reaction is more than understandable. This was exactly what you were afraid of, wasn’t it?” Matt’s knuckle brushed over your cheek and you leaned into his touch, sighing. “You tried to tell us what you thought might happen. You reminded me today! And we all brushed it off, and then…”

“You didn’t.” You murmured, eyes locked on his distant yet passionate gaze. “You believed me, offered to stand up for me.”

“I did. And I would have! I should’ve paid more attention.” Matt scolded himself, still running his fingers along your face soothingly.

You grasped the hand he was resting on your cheek, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “It wasn’t your fault. You are, quite possibly, the person farthest from the line of blame in this situation. Don’t beat yourself up, please.”

“That’s a pretty common habit of mine.”

“I know. ‘Catholic guilt’ should be your middle name.” You flicked your thumb under his chin making him smile. “But you’ve unfortunately chosen an agnostic fake partner, so I’m here to remind you that not everything is your fault.”

Matt let out a mirthless laugh, “Agree to disagree.”

Before you could chastise him, there was a knock at the door. “Our food’s here.” He gave a sheepish grimace, standing to get the door. Watching him retreat, you bit your lip with a smile. Tonight had been tough, no doubt about it, but you couldn’t help but be grateful for your incredibly sweet fake-boyfriend.

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I hope you enjoyed!! Feel free to reblog, comment, and send me requests!

Tag list: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle

#matt murdock x reader #human disaster matt murdock #Matt Murdock #matt murdock x you #Daredevil #marvel daredevil #marvel's daredevil #daredevil fic #Daredevil Netflix #my writing #mm #wake up

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marcspectorstannie · 11 months

Text

✪Dance with me, Mi Amor✪( Jake lockley x reader)

Warnings: none, straight fluff, slight mention of Steven? If that's a warning?

Summary: you and Jake have a romantic evening in the rain (in the house)

A/n:this is my first time writing for Jake so please don't expect in depth writing and I am in no way Spanish or Hispanic, all words in italics were ripped from a translator so if some words are wrong, just know I don't know much. Also idc if this isn't at all cannon this is MY man. P. S this is very very old so just be aware kk

╞═════𖠁𓄁𖠁═════|

Rainy days were always a comfort to you, especially when your boyfriend, Jake, was with you.He's always busy trying to keep Marc and Steven alive that he hadn't had time to focus on himself. Today he just decided to stay inside with you instead of going out let alone getting his designer clothing wet.

You were in the kitchen preparing dinner so you didn't have to worry about it later. Nothing too complicated, but something you both liked. Jake leaned on the counter and watched the rain hit the windows. "You look wonderful, mi querida." You smiled at his remark, stirring whatever mixture you were making. "I'm only wearing a shirt and shorts, Jake. There's nothing special about it." He walked over to you and gently grabbed your waist from behind. His head rested on your shoulder, watching your hands wrap around the utensils.

"Ah, but there is something special about it. There's something special about you.Eres preciosa" He always said his compliments in Spanish. He knew what you loved like the back of his hand. He swayed your hips along with his, feeling his cheeks press onto yours. "Hold on, I have something that could make this evening better" He squeezed your arms and went over to the old record player, putting on some old time-y music. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you away from your cooking. You smiled at him and wiped your hands on a nearby rag so you wouldn't mess up his shirt. "Jake, I'm in the middle of something" He pulled you close to him and tangled his fingers in between yours.

"It can wait,Querida.This is more important, isn't it? " His free hand wrapped around your waist, dancing along with the music. He looked into your eyes and guided your feet to match his movements. "Fría como el viento,Peligrosa como el mar Dulce como un beso" He sang softly along with the music, smiling at you.You never would have thought him of all people would be singing.You hid your smile in his chest as you focused on not stepping on his feet. "You're too much, Lockley." The music seemed to drown out the rain that was pouring down outside, you focused on his voice in your ear and his hand on your waist. The smell of expensive cologne filled your nose as your other arm rested on his bicep.

"Mi amor, you don't know what you do to me.You've turned me into a completely different man." He kissed your head, pulling you ever closer than before. Jake always found a way to pull you away from whatever you were doing, saying 'It'll only take a minute' and it ends up being 10 minutes. "You're my light at the end of the tunnel" you chuckled at his cheesy compliment.His face scrunched up at what he said and cringed. "Blame Steven for that one, the little-" you hushed him before he could finish his sentence. "Hey what did we say about insulting the alters? It's not needed no matter what happened,ok?" He rolled his eyes and went back to humming the song. But the moment was ruined by the smell if burning food filling your nose. "Jake, the food!" You try and pull away before he pulls you back for a kiss.

"Go fix it, Querida."

#marvel #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x you #steven grant headcanon #marc spector headcanon #moon knight comics #moonknight spoilers #moon knight headcanon #moon knight x reader

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pinkiepiebones · 11 days

Text

marionette.

one time Renfield couldn't finish a job. But then, he could. :)

This is fucked up/gory and I am high happy 420

The modern world is a dangerous place. Renfield understands.

He had a good idea of the extent of the house's security system. He had clipped some wires running along the outside. Nothing happened when he broke that window and unclicked the latch and slithered in, his gaunt form adventageous for slinking along the shadows and under modern, imported furniture.

These fucking nuclear families with their fucking palacial homes. Master could use a home like this.

Renfield watched from under a sofa as the security camera did its sweep. He crawled closer as soon as the red eye swiveled away and he yanked the cords out of the black plastic casing and out of the wall. He gave the cords more tugs, following them to a power hub in a linen closet. He crushed a bug in his teeth and crushed the blinking boxes with his hands.

The plastic cut him across the palms. Oh well. He had been dealt worse. He ran a bloodied hand through his shaggy hair and moved on.

Renfield stalked his way into the biggest bedroom first, ether-soaked rag in hand, to sure the parents were out.

They were, literally.

They were not home.

Renfield looked at the rag in his hand. His bottle was empty. He hadn't thought to buy a new one. Did ether have a fast evaporation rate?

Renfield spun on his heel and shambled across the fucking ostentatious home to the room of his target- the local cheerleader captain. He stopped at a door covered in Polaroids of teenage girls making stupid faces at the camera and magazine cutouts of vapid celebrites. He gripped his rag in one pale hand and slowly turned the knob with the other.

"Wh- who are you? What are you doing in my house?"

Renfield's eyes went wide. He turned his head just enough to look over his bony shoulder.

The cheerleader captain was standing just down the hall, a bowl of chips in one hand, a cell phone in the other, glittery pink nails shimmering in the soft light from an ambient wall lamp. Her blond hair was damp and tied back in a braid. She was wearing a tank top and short shorts as pajamas, her artificial tan somehow highlighting the contours of her acrobatics-defined leg muscles. She had bunny slippers.

Before she could scream, before the bowl shattered on the Brazillian rosewood floor, Renfield lept and forced the girl to the floor and twisted the long fingers of his free hand in her hair to hold her down, shoving his rag over her face, struggling to hold her as she kicked widly and scratched at his face and pulled at his arms.

"Shut up, shut up," Renfield hissed. He hated it when they struggled. Her hands moved more and more slowly. Her kicks were lessening. Good.

Then Renfield noticed the video chat on the phone was still on.

"Lil, what's going on? Who's there? I'm calling the cops!"

The phone had not been facing him and had been dropped, so the other girl hadn't seen him. Not that it mattered. Renfield crunched another bug and crunched the phone under his heel. He picked up his target and stalked out the front door and around the back to his car.

Renfield opened the trunk and set the cheerleader captain inside. He moved with the trance-like rehearsed motions of a late-night cashier. He picked up a roll of duct tape and slipped it over one bony wrist, using his other hand to pull and using his teeth to break it into strips. He duct taped the girl's arms behind her back and adjusted the thin strap of her pajama top and duct taped her legs together at the ankles, then the knees. Renfield let a cold hand linger on her warm, smooth thigh as he considered putting tape over her mouth.

Police sirens blared in the distance. Renfield swore and slammed the trunk shut and scrambled into the driver's seat. He sped away, towards home.

It wasn't long before he started hearing her crying. Renfield gripped the wheel tighter. He fiddled with the radio, but it was all static or preachers.

She wouldn't shut up. Begging him to let her go. Please, mister, just stop the car.

Renfield checked his watch. He stopped the car. Master was out hunting. This cheerleader was going to be, in a way, dessert for Master. A before-bed snack. Renfield had time to gag her, maybe choke her just until she lost consciousness.

Renfield got out on an unlit highway and opened the trunk with his key. The tiny light in the trunk cast itself on the sobbing girl.

"Mister, please don't kill me."

"I'm not. I just need to shut you up."

She squirmed further back into the trunk. "Please, my parents are loaded, please, they'll pay whatever you want to get me back."

"What I want can't be bought."

"Wh-wha, I-"

She coughed and started sobbing again. Renfield rolled his eyes and gripped her ankles and pulled her forward. She struggled.

"M-m-my name is Li-Lilian Harper! I'm eighteen! I just got an acceptance letter from my first choice school!"

Renfield stopped, duct tape in his teeth. He lowered the tape and glared at the girl with resentment and pity.

"You're name is Lilian." He shook his head, damning his feelings. "Why are you telling me this? You think this shit will save you?"

Lillian hiccuped and whimpered. "I heard that k-k-killers w-who form a connection w-w-with potential victims w-won't kill them."

Oh, Renfield. There you are.

A stinging sensation bloomed behind Renfield's eyes as Dracula took control of his sight. The world became sepia for Renfield, all dull except for shades of red. Renfield's eyes traveled up the girl's body.

Well now isn't this a lovely display? Hmm. But why oh why is she alive?

"Master, you- you love killing your meals..."

"W-Wh-Who are you talking to?"

Is it her name? Really? Or is it the feeling of something warm and alive, servant? The feeling of warm flesh against your cold, blood-stained hands? You want to free her, don't you?

"No, Master, of course n-"

"Who are you talking to?!"

//Renfield.//

Something in Renfield's head unplugged. He was still in his body, but not. He felt Dracula behind him, but not. Everything of the world was gone, save for Renfield, Dracula, and the girl.

Dracula raised his left arm.

Renfield did too.

Renfield felt his arm raise and saw it.

Renfield looked down at the girl. His eyes were still his eyes but also Dracula's and as Dracula chuckled Renfield tried to offer the girl offer Lillian some kind of apology.

Nothing escaped his lips.

Dracula reached for Renfield reached for the tire iron Dracula raised Renfield raised his arm Dracula laughed Renfield screamed the tire iron came slamming down on Lillian's face Dracula raised Renfield raised his arm again Her nose was flat her teeth were cracked Again Again Again

Dracula kept moving Renfield until the cheerleader captain's face was a red mush.

Dracula flicked his wrist and Renfield tossed the tire iron into the dry grass. Dracula lifted his claws and brought them down; Renfield reached up and closed the trunk.

Be quick about getting her home, servant. I can still get something to eat out of her.

"Yes, Master."

Oh, and, Renfield?

"Yes, Master?"

Never forget. You are mine to control. My puppet.

"Yes, Master."

Dracula exited Renfield's mind and Renfield collapsed to the asphalt and threw up. He shook and sobbed and trembled to his feet. He swiped his sleevr across his mouth and shuffled back into the driver's seat.

The silence was worse than the crying.

The modern world is a dangerous place. Renfield understands.

#renfield

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whltlock · 2 years

Note

Hiii... I usually don't do asks like this so sorry if it's weird or whatever. Could I get something with jason and a reader with really low self esteem, but not like all the time like, an oscillating self esteem, if that makes sense. Just really need some comfort with our big tittie man rn 🌚sorry if this ask is weird I am emotionally unintelligent 🙃

A/N: I hope this works for you! ❤❤❤❤❤❤ everyone deserves to feel like they have a rightful place on this earth, no matter what.

When Jason drapes himself across your lap, the action rouses a small smile from you. It pulls you from your stupor for a moment—but the moment’s well and truly fleeting as you look towards the skyline again.

The sun isn’t so shy today, and the breeze is somewhat warm as it brushes past. There’s no explosions or sirens polluting the city air. And yet.

And yet none of it feels as good as it should. It feels like you amount to less than the tally of all of these good things, and you think maybe you haven’t earned the peace. That’s why you’re not satisfied, not content enough, to experience the moment fully.

Jason catches your sigh. His knuckles float towards your jaw in question.

Slowly, you look down at him, thoughts blaring. Why are you here?

He nudges you, trying to free the words that are stuck in your throat. You touch his hand and your cheek sinks into his palm with an upset noise.

“You’re so… accomplished,” you rasp. “Gotham gets a little better each day because of you.” Your voice remains low and ragged as you voice your thoughts. “People are safer, happier with you around…” You could go on: he’s witty, delectably smart, overly skilled and always eager to learn more, and somehow he manages to be modest about it all.

He’s everything, and anything you’ve ever done pales in comparison. It nicks your heart.

“But I’m not. I do nothing like that.”

For the first time since his arrival, Jason exhales loudly. It’s the sound of distilled disappointment. Your eyes flick to him with shame. His gaze doesn’t meet yours and instead, he runs a hand through his curls as he considers his response.

He licks his lips in preparation, then says, “I do those things so everyone else gets to have an easier life. God, babe, just surviving is a massive accomplishment. People should get to live—really live. It’s a waste to base your worth on a few bucks.”

You swallow as heat builds behind your eyes. His bleeding heart—and honesty—snatches the breath from your lungs.

Jason looks at you now, his expression earnest. “It makes me happy to see you sit outside and enjoy the sun, or burn toast and still eat it, or take ten minutes to choose which can of beans you want for the week while everyone in the aisle has to push past you—”

You poke Jason’s chest with a watery laugh, and he laughs too.

“I love watching you be human, not worrying about success because someone else forced you to.” He touches your elbow thoughtfully, fingertips grazing over your skin to comfort you. “Those little moments are all that matter. That’s what I protect,” he says, voice soft as he looks up at you. “Okay?”

You wipe your eyes with a sniffle and say, “Now I have to add motivational speaker to your CV.”

Jason’s arm wrings your neck as he struggles not to laugh. “You will not catch me giving a TedTalk.”

“We’ll see.”

He hauls you closer and you settle into his hold, mentally repeating his words over and over again, letting them douse you with knowledge.

You’re free. You’re lovable. You’re worth everything even when society says you’ve done nothing.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #batfam #dc imagine #wayne family adventures #batman #jtdrabble*#fic*

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herroyalhighnessqueenmomo · 2 years

Text

Faded Memories (Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader) |Part 11|

A/N: I finally finished! It’s finally here!!

Warnings: 18+!! NSFW, Rough sex ahead, unprotected sex, choking via penis, spitting in mouth, spanking, use of the word slut numerous times, daddy kink, breeding kink (I think that’s everything!)

Eddie froze not knowing if he heard you correctly. He was starting to wonder if whether or not you were actually telling him the truth. The asshole he was fighting was being held back by Marve still. Everything was silent. Eddie slowly turned to look at you. “What did you say?” He asked.

You gulped and took a deep breath. “Eddie I...I remember everything.” You stated. “The hell are you guys talking about?” The guy was trying to fight off Marve. “Shut up!” You and Eddie shouted at him at the same time. “Are you serious Y/N?” He asked you and was now getting close to you. He was searching your eyes. Searching for the truth. Were you just saying that so he’d stop fighting or were you really back?

You gave him a nod. “I’ve had it back for a little while now.” Eddie now furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “A while? And you’re just now telling me?” He asked. “I know you’re probably upset with me-”

“Upset? No, upset is an understatement. I’m fucking pissed. I’m taking your ass home right now. We’ve got a lot of shit we need to talk about.” Eddie said as he reached forward and grabbed your wrist. “Eddie I can’t leave right now, I’m in the middle of a shift!” You yelled at him as he was pulling you out of the Hideout. “They can find someone else to work, you’re quitting.” He replied. “The fuck I am! This was not a part of our deal!”

You tried to get away from him but he stopped and threw you over his shoulder. “Eddie! What the hell?! I’m not some rag doll you can just throw around!” You yelled at him while you were making an attempt to get him to drop you. The both of you were outside and were getting close to his van. “Eddie put me down!” You yelled again. In turn you received a smack on the ass. “Quit it! We’re going home whether you like it or not.” He shouted back.

When he finally made it to the van he opened the back door and threw you in. You landed in the back seat with a thud. Eddie ran to the his driver door and got in. He started the van and drove off. “Jesus, was it really necessary to just manhandle me like that?” You asked as you jumped into the passenger seat in the front. “I don’t wanna hear it from you.” Was all he said.

“Oh so you’re gonna be all silent and broody now, is that it?” You asked trying to figure him out. “Uh yeah I think I reserve that right since you have been fucking lying to me this whole time!” He shouted as he turned for a moment to give you a very stern look. “Okay not the whole time. You’re being dramatic Edward.” You said. “I’m being dramatic?!”

“Yes, you are being dramatic. Me losing my memory could not have possibly affected you that much.” You stated. He turned his head to face you briefly again. “Wow, after everything we talked about last night, and after we finally slept together you seriously still doubt how much losing you hurt me?” He asked sounding almost amazed. “Oh come on, you did not lose me.”

“Except for the fact that I did, Y/N. When you ran away from the wedding, from Hawkins. Hell, when that stupid fucking plane crashed and I had no idea what happened to you? I thought you were gone forever. There was a brief moment in my life where I actually mourned you, Y/N.”

You remained silent. You now felt bad that he actually thought you were dead at some point. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. “That’s right you don’t know. You don’t know the pain that you put us all through when we were sitting in that hospital waiting to find out if you were okay. I was a wreck.” He replied sternly gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Okay I get it. I hurt you, but you hurt me too. You aren’t free from blame here.” You tried to defend yourself.

“Bullshit. Don’t turn this back around on me. I know what I did was wrong and I have owned up to that. I have been trying to make it up to you ever since. You know that.” He shot back. “By lying to me and telling me you were my husband? What was that supposed to accomplish?” You asked trying to understand.

“I’m sorry are you actually questioning my decisions right now? Let’s not forget that yes I might’ve lied by telling you I was your husband so I could get closer to you again but you were the one who decided to keep up the lie because, why?”

“Because of this! I was trying to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.” You practically shouted. “I mean can you even blame me? The last time I had a conversation with you about my true feelings that didn’t really go that well.” You were now more quiet when you spoke. Somber even. Eddie glanced over at you to see you looking down and fiddling with your hands.

He sighed as he looked back at the road. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I will never stop feeling sorry but you should've given me the chance to make it up to you." He said. "You have." He shook his head. "No, the real you. The one I fell in love with. We have all these memories together and I thought you might be gone forever." He responded. "Were...were you really in love with me? Before?” You asked.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” You shook your head. “Not to me.” He chuckled. “Back in school I never wanted to leave your side. During Hellfire nights I always saved you a seat right by me. I always drove you home from school even though you lived on the other side of Hawkins. I don’t know you never said anything about it so I figured you weren’t interested and didn’t bring it up to be polite.” He explained.

You were completely shocked to your core. Your mouth dropped wide open. “All that time you did that stuff because you were in love with me?” You asked. "I just thought you were just being really nice and being a good friend."

“Yeah I mean I guess I can see how you thought that. But I was a little hurt that you didn’t show interest so I convinced myself it was for the best that we stayed friends, so our friendship wouldn’t get ruined.” He confirmed.

“Then when we were at my bachelor’s party at the Hideout and you told me the truth and that you did love me, I don’t know. I was just terrified. I mean I had no idea what to do. We both loved each other but I was with Kendra. It’s stupid to say but I thought I was doing the right thing by being with her.” He continued to explain. “I felt so angry. I was angry at you, Kendra, the whole damn situation but mostly at myself.”

You crossed your arms. “Wait, why were you angry with me?” You asked. Eddie finally pulled up to the apartment building the two of you called home and he parked the van in his usual spot. He turned the van off and took the key out of the ignition and gave his full attention to you. “I don’t know I was just mostly angry that you waited so long to tell me the truth.” He shrugged.

You squinted in disbelief. "Well sure I waited specifically that long because I thought it was absolutely necessary." Eddie gave you a look. "Okay maybe it wasn't the best time to tell you but I had to." You replied. "I just hate that we missed out on what could've been years of us being together." He stated seeming really bummed out.

He was right. You guys missed out on years of relationship bliss. Hell you guys could’ve actually been married by this point. “Well we can make up for it now.” You replied. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why don’t we make our marriage official?” You suggested. “Really?” You nodded. "We already know everything about each other and we have enjoyed these past few weeks being together. We can just skip the step where we're supposed to date and just say fuck it."

Something in Eddie’s eyes changed. As if a light of hope has ignited behind them. He smiled widely and grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss and you indulged. You hands ended up in his hair. Starting from the base of his neck your hands traveled further up to caress his hair. “So I’ll take that as a yes?” You asked him as you pulled away to catch your breath. “That is a hell yes. Come here.” Eddie grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap. You giggled as he kissed all over your face. “I never knew you’d be so happy to receive a marriage proposal.”

He left kisses along your neck. “Well it’s because the marriage proposal is from you and I really fucking love you.” You giggled again. “I really fucking love you too. Now come on, lets go inside. We are not going to make out in your van like a couple of teenagers.” You stated.

He didn’t let up from his attack on your neck. “Mmm, why not? We never got to do this together when we were teenagers. Let’s make up for it now.” He mumbled against your neck. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay fine. You make a pretty convincing argument.”

You grabbed his face and began to kiss him again. You felt Eddie already getting hard underneath you. Feeling his member poking your core was making you excited. Out of second nature you started to grind down on him earning a groan from his mouth. “I’m starting to think this isn’t going to be just a make out session in my van.” He said.

You smiled and shook your head as you went to bite his bottom lip. “You know I’ve always had this fantasy back when we were in high school.” You began to say.

Eddie smirked. “I already like where this is going.” You giggled. “I have always wanted to give you road head. Oh and I have definitely been dying for you to nail me in the back of the van to our song.” You began to blush as you shamelessly admitted your darkest fantasies to him. “Road head huh?”

You laughed. “Oh of course that’s your take away from all of that.” He joined in on your laughter. “Sweetheart if you really fantasized about giving me road head back when we were teens you know that all you had to do was grab my dick and go to town. I would’ve never said no.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have but I didn’t want you to think I was a slut.”

“I would’ve never thought that because I know you’d only want my dick. So really if you were a slut then you were my personal one.” He reasoned with you. “You sure do know how to worm your way into a girl’s heart huh?” He laughed. “Nah, only to the one that matters.”

“Alright enough of that sappy shit. I got a dick to grab and go to town on.” You said using his words. Eddie let out a hearty laugh as you climbed off of his lab and undid his pants. You pulled out his penis that was already dripping in precum. “Well shit you’re not wasting any time.” He muttered as he watched you in awe. You smiled and looked up at him. "Do you still have the Holy Diver album in here?" You asked.you fully intended on making your fantasies a reality tonight.

Eddie had a panicked face as he tried to remember where he put the cassette tape. "Uh check the glove compartment." You opened the glove box and searched the mess he had in there. You found the small cassette tape but also found a box of condoms and grabbed it. You waved the condoms. "Found these." He gave you a nervous smile. "Had those from when I was still with Kendra." You scrunched your nose in disgust. "You guys didn't do it in here often or anything did you?"

He shook his head. "God no. Kendra couldn't be bothered with van sex. She said it was too trashy." You furrowed your eyebrows. "And you didn't think she was too much of a bitch then?" You asked. He only laughed nervously. "I honestly was too 'in love' to think about it." He said putting air quotes around in love.

You shrugged and put the cassette tape in the radio and played it. You smiled as you heard the familiar strumming for Stand Up and Shout. You turned your attention back towards Eddie. "Now where was I?" You asked. "You were in the middle of going to town." You let out a laugh and moved closer to Eddie. You grabbed a hold of his dick and massaged the head. You took your index finger and tapped on some of his precum.

You licked your lips and lowered your head in order to get eye level with his fat cock. You parted your lips and let out your tongue. You licked the side of his penis ever so slowly. The act made Eddie let out a shaky breath. You then sunk your head down as you took his dick all the way in your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

"Fucking shit Y/N. That's it sweetheart." He encouraged you as you hummed in response. You wiggled your ass in the air from the excitement. You were getting wet just from hearing the noises coming from Eddie. You felt a sting on your ass which caused you to gasp and for Eddie to buck his hips up so he can go deeper down your throat. "Oh shit let me fuck your throat."

You just decided to keep going. He smacked your ass again. "Are you gonna let me fuck your throat princess?" You simply moaned in response. He took it as a yes and grabbed your head. "Stay fucking still." You did as you were told and as your reward Eddie bucked his hips up to meet you. The head of his dick kept hitting the back of your throat.

Tears were forming in your eyes from the force of his dick almost choking you out but you didn't mind it. This was exactly what you wanted. Eddie unchained. Fully animalistic and absolutely just using your body for his own pleasure.

Getting him off was turning you on more than anything. "Holy fucking hell baby." Without warning he pushed your head all the way down on his dick. He held you there as his hot release came shooting out and down your throat.

"That's right princess. Take it all. My personal little slut. Such a good fucking girl for daddy. You better fucking swallow it." You've never heard him talk like this. You loved it. You took a big gulp as you swallowed his seed. Eddie tugged on your hair lifting your head up so he could see your face.

The hair pulling didn't hurt. He wasn't trying to be rough. Just wanted to control the direction of your head. "Open your mouth angel. I wanna make sure you did what daddy told you to do." He then used his hand to pinch at your cheeks to get you to open your mouth. You opend widely and stuck your tongue out proudly. "Good girl. Swallowed all of daddy's cum." He tilted your head back and towered over you a bit. He kept your mouth open as he stared into your eyes.

God his eyes looked so damn different to you. They didn't look as sweet and soulful as they usually do. Now they were much darker and filled with a carnal kind of lust.

Next thing you knew Eddie had spit in your mouth. "Be a good girl and swallow that too." And you did. Without a second thought. A wicked looking smile graced his face.

He was so turned on by you and your unwavering submissiveness. He has never been this rough with anyone before. Especially, not even with Kendra. No one was ever willing to submit to him, but you? You did it, no questions asked and without retaliation. You really were a dream to him. His best fantasy, come to life.

"Get in the back of the van." He said to you. "As your reward for being such a good little slut for daddy, we're gonna play out your other fantasy." Eddie turned the van radio up to the max. The song Don't Talk to Strangers was nearing its end, which meant your guy's song was up next. You smiled widely as you turned around to climb your way to the back seat of the van.

Upon seeing your ass in the air Eddie gave it another smack. It was much harsher this time and it made you moan. He chuckled very darkly behind you and it sounded so sinister.

"So, my dirty girl likes to get spanked, huh?" "Only by you daddy." You responded as you lied down on your back on the seat.

Eddie now made his way to the back with you. "I might just have to spank you more often then." He replied as he towered over you once again. His body was in between your legs. "Take these fucking pants off right now or I swear I'll use my fucking swiss army knife to get them off of you." Your eyes widened as a heat ran to your cheeks and your pussy.

You quickly undid your jeans. "As hot as that sounds these are one of my favorite pairs of jeans." Eddie helped pull them off of you. Your pretty panties went along with them. Eddie threw your jeans on the van floor.

The cool air hit your now vulnerable pussy lips. You were dripping on the seat. Completely soaked. "Holy shit baby. Did sucking me off really turn you on this much?" He asked as he used his fingers to collect the natural essence of your sweet pussy. You moaned softly and gave him a nod.

"You really are my personal little slut aren't you?" He smirked down at you. "Fuck yes." You sat up a bit about to reach over to grab the box of condoms that was once in the glove compartment. "The fuck do you think you're doing?" Eddie asked you as he grabbed your wrist tightly but not enough to hurt you.

"Grabbing a condom. I'm not on the pill." You said as you looked at him feeling confused. "I don't give a fuck. I'm going to fuck you raw just like I did last night." He stated with a shocking intenseness and oddly sexy harshness.

Memories of his release hitting the insides of your pussy last night came back to you. "Shit I forgot about that. Eddie we need to get me a morning after pill." You said as you began to slowly panic. Eddie shook his head. "Nuh uh."

"What do you mean 'nuh uh'? I could get pregnant." You snapped at him. "Good. That's the plan." He said as he pulled your hips up. Your entrance was right in front of his dick. "Eds, you can't be serious." He didn't say anything. He just flashed you a wicked smile. "Don't be scared sweetheart. Daddy's gonna put a baby in you." He said as he leaned over to give you a kiss that lit your whole body ablaze.

You were experiencing a mix of emotions. You were slightly anxious at the thought of getting knocked up but the way Eddie spoke about it made you want to go through with it.

Your never ending thoughts dissipated as soon as you felt his cock plunge into you. The sensation made you let out a pornographic moan. "That's it gorgeous. Just let daddy do his job."

Straight Through the Heart was blaring through the radio. This is exactly what you wanted. To get fucked roughly by Eddie "The Freak" Munson to this song.

His hands dug into your hips as he roughly attacked your cunt with his gifted cock. "You look so good taking my dick princess. And wearing my shirt too." His right hand snaked up under the shirt and your bra to grab at your breast.

You moaned out. "Eddie it feels soooo fucking good." His right hand released your breast and made its way to your clit. His thumb was irratically rubbing it. He wanted nothing more than to feel you squeezing his cock like you did the night before.

"You better cum for me sweetheart. Be a good girl for daddy." He grunted out. His words brought you to the edge. You arched your back as you rolled your eyes back. You screamed out as you hit your orgasm.

Eddie stopped rubbing your clit so he could get a better grip on you. His thrusts began to speed up as you rode out your high. "So fucking sexy milking daddy's cock like a little slut. Make me wanna put a baby in you. Are you gonna take daddy's cum in that pussy of yours?"

You couldn't even respond. "Say it. Say you want it. Tell me that you want me to knock you up." He was practically growling out at you. "Do it daddy please! Please put a baby in me! I'm all yours."

Once he heard those words, his release bursted out of him and painted the walls of your pussy. He grunted out and collapsed over you. The both of you were all sweaty and gasping for air.

All of a sudden you both just laughed. "Holy shit that was wild." Eddie said. "I can't even believe that just happened." You smiled and looked up at him.

It seemed otherworldly that this man just fucked you like an absolute beast and now like a light switch he was gazing into your eyes lovingly. You placed a hand on his cheek tenderly and he planted a kiss on your lips.

"You know I meant what I said. I really do want you to have my babies." Eddie said to you as he got off of you and fixed his pants. You sat up and grabbed your jeans and underwear from the floor. "Yeah but you want kids now?"

He nodded and flashed you a heartwarming smile. "I would love to see a child brought into this world that was made by us. That would be a dream come true. Plus, I think you would look so fucking gorgeous carrying my babies."

You took a deep breath. "Fuck...alright, but tomorrow we need to actually talk about how we are planning to get married. Then your ass is going to find me another job since you quite literally dragged me out of the bar tonight." You stated.

Eddie shrugged. "Hey I told you earlier at Charlie's garage that I would drag your ass out if someone was flirting with you." He tried to argue. "Except for the fact that, that asshole didn't flirt with me."

"That's true but he did disrespect you and I wasn't having any of that shit." You rolled your eyes and were about to put on your panties when he took them from your hands. "Hey." "Oh I'm keeping these for myself. You dripped right through them."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What do you want with them?" You asked. "Want to keep them with me whenever I'm away from you. Reminds me that I have a sexy wife waiting for me when I get home."

"How the fuck is that really hot and almost wholesome at the same time?" You asked while laughing as you put your jeans back on. Eddie shrugged. "Don't know. Its just a gift."

The two of you got out of the van and went to your shared apartment. "I can't believe I finally have you back, I'm so fucking ecstatic." Eddie stated as the two made your way inside. You beamed at his enthusiasm.

It made you feel good that he was happy to have the real you back. "You know since I'm off tomorrow night we should go out to celebrate." He said. "Well we can't go to the Hideout. I refuse to show my face there now since someone hauled me out like a sack of potatoes midshift."

He playfully rolled his eyes at you. "Hey we should definitely tell our friends they will be so excited to know." You gave him a nervous smile. "Yeah, they'll be so happy and so surprised." He frowned. "They already know, don't they?" You nodded. "Don't worry, Robin and Steve just found out today. Nance on the other hand has known for about a week." You explained.

"When were you planning on telling me anyways?" He asked as he grabbed himself a beer from the fridge. You took a deep breath. "Well I wasn't ever really sure, I did come close to telling you today but I got interrupted when you got called back to work. You answered. "I never planned to keep it from you for very long. I was originally terrified but I don't know, I guess I lost the fear I had along the way. That and you definitely weren't listening to me earlier when you were fighting that guy at the bar. Figured that would get you attention." You explained.

He nodded as he sipped his beer. "Well it definitely did." A smile made it way on your face. "I think I'm going to run myself a bath. You're more than welcome to join me if you want." You offered as you made your way to the bathroom. "Oh, you don't have to tell me twice." He said as he frantically out down his beer and ran after you which made you let out a laugh.

You plugged the tub and began to run the water. You made sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold. Eddie stood behind you and was eagerly pulling off your shirt. “Someone’s a little impatient, isn’t he?” You giggled. “Only a little.” He stated as he began to kiss your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Okay well we’re not having a repeat of last night where it’s only me getting naked while you are fully clothed.” You replied as you turned around to face him. “Oh I can definitely do that.”

He stripped himself from his shirt and in turn you unhooked your bra. “Fuuuck. Have I ever mentioned that I love your tits?” You let out a laugh. “No but I’ll definitely take the compliment.” He smiled and put his hands on your titties. Eddie began to fondle them in his hands and playing with your nipples. “I could do this all day.” You snorted. “Please don’t, that would just be weird.”

You turned your head to the water to see that the tub was almost filled to the tippy top. “Shit.” You ran over and shut the water off. “That was almost bad.” Eddie managed to wrap his hands around your waist again and ended up unbuttoning your jeans. You turned your attention back towards him.

You weren’t taking off your pants until he took his off. You unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down with his underwear. He was sporting a semi-hard on. You then moved back to drop your jeans. There was a wet spot on the jeans from the cream pie Eddie gave you earlier. “I seriously hope that stain comes out.” You muttered out.

Eddie just had a stupid grin on his face as he went to kiss you. This kiss wasn’t as hungry and animalistic as the ones you shared earlier. This was much more sweet and tender. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he could just flip a switch so easily between being so aggressive and beast like to practically the complete opposite. He pulled away from you and walked over to the tub to get in.

Once in the tub he sat down resting his back against the tub wall. He reached his arm out for you to take his hand. You grabbed it and climbed into the tub and sat down in front of him. The water felt really nice on your skin. You especially liked the intimacy of being here so close to Eddie and having him there behind you.

You could feel Eddie’s hard on poking you in the back. You smiled and leaned back on him. His arms made their way in front of you to take your hands. “This is really nice.” “Mhm.” Eddie hummed in response. His left hand slowly crept up to grab a hold of your breast. He kissed down your neck and collarbone. You sighed out happily.

With your right hand you grabbed his and led them down to your cunt. You were aching to be touched there. Eddie’s fingers found your clit and gently rubbed at it. You moaned softly in response. He smiled against your neck as he kept peppering you with kisses. He then inserted his middle finger inside your pussy. You gasped out. Eddie inserted his index finger next and began working his fingers inside and out. “Just like that.” You sighed out.

His left hand was still on your breast. His arm reached over to give attention to your right breast now. You were a moaning mess, completely under his mercy.

Eddie loved every second he spent behind you. He loved the closeness he shared with you. The way your body melted to meet with his. He enjoyed kissing your soft skin and he especially enjoyed your reaction to him fingering you to oblivion. It felt easy with you. Perfect. He was able to be himself in every sense of the way. Sexually he could choke you out and spit in your mouth and you wouldn't run for the hills, but he also got to be sweet and gentle. He loved that he was able to show you this side of him.

He continued to play with your pussy until you were able to cum. Afterwards the two of you sat in the water washing each other and cuddling. After a good hour of you two just sitting in comfortable silence you finally got out and dried yourselves off. You guys got into your slumber wear and got ready for bed.

"I love you so much. More than I could possibly imagine. Like a really fucking unhealthy amount." Eddie stated breaking the serene silence. You let out a giggle. "I love you too Eds." You said as you gave him a kiss before you went to sleep.

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#eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson breeding kink

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all-pacas · 2 months

Note

not sure if you’re still interested in prompts but in case the block is still hitting you, how about “late-night meal after a tense battle” with your choice or claudeleth or tavstarion (durgstarion? idk what the ship name is)

i Interpreted the prompt

"Please bite me," Tav says, her eyes wild and desperate.

Considering Astarion has only just opened the door, he's a bit thrown.

In thanks for saving Last Light and the inn's precious cleric, Jaheria had told the party they could feel free to claim any empty rooms they wished. He'd been looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed for once. Perhaps even a bath. Some time alone, a novelty in itself, something he's practically itching for --

Tav's heart is racing, her breath quick and short. She stares up at him unblinking, and he can practically see her pulse through her throat.

He doesn't really want --

She is frightened.

He smiles, stepping gracefully back to allow her in. "Who I am to refuse such a tempting offer?"

Tav lingers outside the threshold for a heartbeat -- two -- before stepping inside. The room is small, the only window boarded up -- the cost of privacy. His bed is narrow, but he'd already laid out his bedroll on top -- Tav sits down on the bed, picking and tearing at her fingers, already bloody.

He wants her to go. But he pastes on a smile and watches her pick pick pick at a fingernail, into the sensitive flesh beneath, ragged and red --

"What's the matter, darling?"

She brushes her hair to the side, exposing her neck. It's just too short: silvery strands fall back at once. He sits beside her on the bed, trying it for himself. Finds the vein with his thumb and strokes along it, a fading bruise. He can smell her clearly now: the mineral scent of her sweat and skin, the sharp, thick heat of her blood. Tav's eyes do not flutter closed at his touch, she does not lean into it. Her eyes remain open, fixed on her lap.

Even if he had not planned on a meal tonight he can recall the taste of her blood, of her skin, the acrid punch of veins, the salt of meat, the heat -- his mouth is awfully wet. Her pulse sounds louder, the smell of her richer. She picks at her thumb --

He covers her hands with his own. "You'll ruin your nails."

"I don't care."

"I do." He feels a hot pinch of annoyance, and finds he means it.

"Just bite me, please."

Oh, but he'd like to. She's inches away. Hot and sharp and willing. Her blood is the best he's had, the strongest, the richest -- sweet and salty and sour and sharp, pulsing under her skin, right there, inches away -- "Why?" Hard to concentrate. To ask.

She doesn't answer.

It's hard. It's so hard. He does not bite. "I was planning on a quiet evening alone," he says. Irritated, trying to hold back. Letting it show. "If you're going to interrupt, I at least want to know why."

He does not need to eat as often as a living man. Every second day is plenty. They had not made plans. More than that -- his mind races. He should have said that differently. He didn't sound grateful. She will -- "I'm worried, darling. You seem upset." He squeezes her hands. Leans closer. She is doing him a favor, and he must act it. Be grateful. Be --

Her heart is racing. Has been racing. Even as he tells himself to touch her, to fret, to be sweet -- he catches her fingers in his own, running his thumb along her jagged nails. What a pity. What a...

"I want to kill Isobel," she says.

Not what he'd expected.

Before he can decide how to react, what she will want to hear, Tav continues in a monotone. "As soon as I saw her. I thought, she's what's keeping this place safe. The only thing keeping everyone here alive. They'd be so frightened if she died. So lost. Helpless." Her cheek muscles twitch -- she squeezes her eyes closed.

"Well, darling," he says. "I wish you had told me before we went through all that trouble to protect her from that Marcus fellow."

Her laugh is strangled. A cry. She trembles all over, and he feels -- he doesn't know what to do. "He wanted her alive," Tav continues, more quickly, fighting back a laugh -- "Imagine if I had killed her first. Imagine. The Absolute would be furious. Everyone would be dead, I -- I don't want to think this way!"

Do something.

He is not used to worrying for others besides himself, and so he mistakes his feeling for a more general anxiety. Not for the first time, Astarion wonders what would happen if his poor, mad friend turned her urges on him -- do something. But she is shaking, desperate, looking to be bitten not for him but her. For death. For oblivion.

He puts his arm around her, telling himself it is what Gale or Wyll or Karlach would do. It is awkward. He has never done this before, but she makes another strangled sound and pushes her weight against him, half climbing into his lap, head under his chin and arms around his sides. Hot and overwhelming, a furnace, a warmth -- her pulse surrounding him, reverberating against his skin --

His poor, mad --

He returns the embrace awkwardly, somehow unsure where to put his hands. She speaks into his shoulder and throat, her breath hot and damp. "If you take all my blood, if I can just sleep, if I can just rest... my head hurts, but if it would stop I'd be alright, I'd be safe..."

"You're being ridiculous," he says, which stops her quiet rambling. He tries to shift into a more comfortable position, not letting her go: somehow ends up pulling her entirely into his lap, leaning sideways against him, heavy. He's more conscious of her body like this. Ridiculous. He's fucked her enough, and they're entirely clothed. But the weight of her -- her heartbeat, her lungs, the life of her. Hot and damp and moving, breathing, pulsing, trembling --

He's seldom felt less alive.

"If you want to turn around and kill her -- tomorrow, once we've all had a good night's sleep, if you don't mind -- that's perfectly fine. But you're acting as though you'll lose control and go mad, and that's simply ridiculous."

"I've done it before," and she starts to pull away -- but he's expected this and is growing to enjoy the heat and damp as it seeps through his skin. He tightens his hold on her. She buries her face in his shoulder and her hair tickles at his nose.

"And you shan't do it again." It's a comforting lie, a lie she will want to hear. A lie that leaves her quiet and pliant. Which is why he says it -- the only reason, the reason he allows his eyes to close, she's heavy, her bent knees knocking into his elbow, he breathes --

"You don't know that," she says, desperate to be wrong.

"You could have killed her any number of times today." It's what she wants to hear, and that's why he's saying it. Payment. Service. Favors. Her shoulders move as she breathes, her heart thrums in her chest, in his chest. His desperate little -- (love.) He is doing this on purpose. He is tricking her to earn her trust. He wants to -- be a comfort. For the protection. The safety. That's all. "But you didn't truly want to, and you didn't. Your control isn't as lax as you believe it, darling. I know that perfectly well, and you really ought to listen when I say so."

She hums. Quiet for a moment. He feels her calm, relax. He's never been a source of comfort before. For anyone. Ever. Even though he's just pretending, it's... nice. He likes --

"Bite me, please," Tav asks quietly.

There's no reason to refuse.

"Would it make you feel better, darling?" he asks.

He isn't sure why he asks.

It's blood, rich and delicious, so really, he's benefiting here as well. She doesn't want cuddles, doesn't want to be petted, they both get what they want --

"Yes. Please." -- and it's all fake anyway, so if it's what Tav wants, why not?

He says something or another, rearranging her on the bed. Ease of access, minimizing any spillage. She follows easily, pliant. Her smile tremulous. Grateful.

Now that she's getting what she wants --

He bites.

#bg3 durgestarion

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thewidowsghost · 9 months

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Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 13

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"Wolves," Piper says. "They sound close."

Jason and (Y/n) rise, drawing their swords. Leo and the Coach get to their feet too. Piper tries, but black spots dance before her eyes.

"Stay there," (Y/n) tells her. "We've got you."

Piper grits her teeth, hating feeling helpless. She doesn't want anyone to protect her. First her stupid ankle, and then stupid hypothermia. She wants to be on her feet, with her dagger in her hand.

Then, just outside the firelight, at the entrance of the cave, she sees a pair of red eyes glowing in the dark.

Okay, she thinks. Maybe a little protection is fine.

More wolves edge into the firelight — black beasts bigger than Great Danes, with ice and snow caked on their fur. Their fangs gleam, and their glowing red eyes look disturbingly intelligent. The wolf in front is almost as tall as a horse, his mouth stained as if he'd just made a fresh kill.

Piper pulls her dagger out of its sheath.

Then Jason steps forward and says something in Latin.

Piper doesn't think a dead language would have much effect on wild animals, but the alpha wolf curls his lip. The fur stands up along his spine. One of his lieutenants tries to advance, but the alpha wolf snaps at his ear. Then all of the wolves back into the dark.

"Dude, I gotta study Latin." Leo's hammer shakes in his hand. "What'd you say, Jason?"

Hedge curses. "Whatever it was, it wasn't enough. Look."

The wolves are coming back, but the alpha wolf isn't with them. They don't attack. They wait — at least a dozen now, in a rough semicircle just outside the firelight, blocking the cave exit.

The coach hefts his club. "Here's the plan. I'll kill them all, and you guys escape."

"Coach, they'll rip you apart," Piper says.

"Nah, I'm good."

Then Piper sees the silhouette of a man coming through the storm, wading through the wolf pack.

"Stick together," Jason advises. "They respect a pack. And Hedge, no crazy stuff. We're not leaving you or anyone else behind."

Piper gets a lump in her throat. She's the weak link in their "pack" right now. No doubt the wolves can smell her fear. She might as well be wearing a sign that says free lunch.

The wolves part, and the man steps into the firelight. His hair is greasy and ragged, the color of fireplace soot, topped with a crown of what looks like finger bones. His robes are tattered fur — wolf, rabbit, raccoon, deer, and several others Piper can't identify. The furs don't look cured, and from the smell, they aren't very fresh. His frame is lithe and muscular, like a distance runner's. But the most horrible thing is his face. His thin pale skin is pulled tight over his skull. His teeth are sharpened like fangs. His eyes glow bright red like his wolves' — and they fix on Jason with absolute hatred.

"Ecce,"he said, "filli Romani."

"Speak English, wolf man!" Hedge bellow.

The wolf man snarls. "Tell your faun to mind his tongue, son of Rome. Or he'll be my first snack."

Piper remembers that faun is the Roman name for satyr. Not exactly helpful information. Now, if she can remember who this wolf guy is in Greek mythology, and how to defeat him, that she can use.

The wolf man studies their little group. His nostrils twitch. "So it's true," he muses. "A child of Aphrodite. A son of Hephaestus. The Jackson girl. A faun. And a child of Rome, of Lord Jupiter, no less. All together, without killing each other. How interesting."

You were told about us?" Jason asks. "By whom?"

The man snarls — perhaps a laugh, perhaps a challenge. "Oh, we've been patrolling for you all across the west, demigod, hoping we'd be the first to find you. The giant king will reward me well when he rises. I am Lycaon, king of the wolves. And my pack is hungry."

The wolves snarl in the darkness.

Out of the corner of her eye, Piper sees Leo put up his hammer and slip something else from his tool belt — a glass bottle full of clear liquid.

Piper racks her brain trying to place the wolf guy's name. She knows she'd heard it before, but she can't remember details.

Lycaon glares at Jason's sword. He moves to each side as if looking for an opening, but Jason's blade moves with him.

"Leave," Jason orders. "There's no food for you here."

"Unless you want tofu burgers," (Y/n) offers.

Lycaon bares his fangs. Apparently he isn't a tofu fan.

"If I had my way," Lycaon says with regret, "I'd kill you first, son of Jupiter. Your father made me what I am. I was the powerful mortal king of Arcadia, with fifty fine sons, and Zeus slew them all with his lightning bolts."

"Ha," Coach Hedge says. "For good reason!"

Jason glances over his shoulder. "Coach, you know this clown?"

"I do," Piper answers. The details of the myth come back to her — a short, horrible story she and her father had laughed at over breakfast. She isn't laughing now.

"Lycaon invited Zeus to dinner," she says. "But the king wasn't sure it was really Zeus. So to test his powers, Lycaon tried to feed him human flesh. Zeus got outraged —"

"And killed my sons!" Lycaon howls. The wolves behind him howl too.

"So Zeus turned him into a wolf," Piper continues. "They call . . . they call werewolves lycanthropes, named after him, the first werewolf."

"The king of wolves," Coach Hedge finishes. "An immortal, smelly, vicious mutt."

Lycaon growls. "I will tear you apart, faun!"

"Oh, you want some goat, buddy? 'Cause I'll give you goat."

"Stop it," Jason says. "Lycaon, you said you wanted to kill me first, but . . .?

"Sadly, Child of Lightning, you two" – he nods to (Y/n) – "are spoken for. Since this one" – he waggles his claws at Piper – "has failed to kill you, you are destined to be delivered alive to the Wolf House. One of my compatriots has asked for the honor of killing you herself."

"Who?"

The wolf king snickers. "Oh, a great admirer of yours. Apparently, you two made quite an impression on her. She will take care of you soon enough, and really I cannot complain. Spilling your blood at the Wolf House should mark my new territory quite well. Lupa will think twice about challenging my pack."

Piper's heart tries to jump out of her chest. She doesn't understand everything Lycaon had said, but a woman who wants to kill Jason and (Y/n)? Medea, she thought. Somehow, she must've survived the explosion.

Piper struggles to her feet. Spots dance before her eyes again. The cave seems to spin. "You're going to leave now," Piper says, "before we destroy you." She tries to put power into the words, but she is too weak. Shivering in her blankets, pale and sweaty and barely able to hold a knife, she can't have looked very threatening.

Lycaon's red eyes crinkle with humor. "A brave try, girl. I admire that. Perhaps I'll make your end quick. Only the son of Jupiter and daughter of Poseidon are needed alive. The rest of you, I'm afraid, are dinner."

At that moment, Piper knows she is going to die. But at least she'd die on her feet, fighting next to (Y/n).

(Y/n) takes a step forward. "You're not killing anyone, wolf man. Not without going through me."

Lycaon howls and extends his claws. (Y/n) slashes at him, but her bronze sword passes straight through as if the wolf king isn't there.

Lycaon laughs. "Gold, bronze, steel — none of these are any good against my wolves, child of the Sea."

"Silver!" Piper cries. "Aren't werewolves hurt by silver?"

"We don't have any silver!" Jason replies.

Wolves leaps into the firelight. Hedge charges forward with an elated "Woot!"

But Leo strikes first. He throws his glass bottle and it shatters on the ground, splattering liquid all over the wolves — the unmistakable smell of gasoline. He shoots burst of fire at the puddle, and a wall of flames erupts.

Wolves yelp and retreat. Several catch fire and have to run back into the snow. Even Lycaon looks uneasily at the barrier of flames now separating his wolves from the demigods.

"Aw, c'mon," Coach Hedge complains. "I can't hit them if they're way over there."

Every time a wolf comes closer, Leo shoots a new wave of fire from his hands, but each effort seems to make him a little more tired, and the gasoline is already dying down. "I can't summon any more gas!" Leo warns. Then his face turns red. "Wow, that came out wrong. I mean the burning kind. Gonna take the tool belt a while to recharge. What you got, man?"

"Nothing," Jason replies. "Not even a weapon that works."

"Nothin,'" (Y/n) says. "Unless we're gonna fuckin' box some wolves."

"Lightning?" Piper asks, glancing at (Y/n) with amusement.

Jason concentrates, but nothing happens. "I think the snowstorm is interfering, or something."

"Unleash the venti!" Piper offers.

"Then we'll have nothing to give Aeolus," Jason replies. "We'll have come all this way for nothing."

Lycaon laughs. "I can smell your fear. A few more minutes of life, heroes. Pray to whatever gods you wish. Zeus did not grant me mercy, and you will have none from me."

The flames begin to sputter out. Jason curses and drops his sword. He crouches like he is ready to go hand-to-hand. Leo pulls his hammer out of his pack. Piper raises her dagger — not much, but it is all she has. Coach Hedge hefts his club, and he is the only one who looks excited about dying.

Then a ripping sound cuts through the wind — like a piece of tearing cardboard. A long stick sprouts from the neck of the nearest wolf — the shaft of a silver arrow. The wolf writhes and falls, melting into a puddle of shadow.

More arrows. More wolves fall. The pack breaks in confusion. An arrow flashes towards Lycaon, but the wolf king catches it in midair. Then he yells in pain. When he drops the arrow, it leaves a charred, smoking gash across his palm. Another arrow catches him in the shoulder, and the wolf king staggers.

"Curse them!" Lycaon yells. He growls at his pack, and the wolves turned and ran. Lycaon fixed Jason with those glowing red eyes. "This isn't over, boy."

The wolf king disappears into the night.

Seconds later, Piper hear more wolves baying, but the sound is different — less threatening, more like hunting dogs on the scent. A smaller white wolf bursts into the cave, followed by two more.

Hedge says, "Kill it?"

"No!" Piper replies. "Wait."

The wolves tilt their heads and study the campers with huge golden eyes. One of the wolves steps forward, sniffing around (Y/n), and (Y/n) kneels down, stroking the wolf's ears. Piper watches as (Y/n)'s expression softens as she talks quietly to the wolf, as though missing her own dog.

A heartbeat later, their masters appear: a troop of hunters in white-and-gray winter camouflage, at least half a dozen. All of them carry bows, with quivers of glowing silver arrows on their backs.

Their faces are covered with parka hoods, but clearly they are all girls. One, a little taller than the rest, crouches in the firelight and snatches up the arrow that had wounded Lycaon's hand.

"So close." She turns to her companions. "Phoebe, stay with me. Watch the entrance. The rest of you, follow Lycaon. We can't lose him now. I'll catch up with you." (Y/n)'s head snaps up, and she watches the girl, as though she recognized the voice. A possible girlfriend, Piper wonders, feeling a little disappointed.

The other hunters mumble agreement and disappear, heading after Lycaon's pack.

The girl in white turns toward them, her face still hidden in her parka hood. "We've been following that demon's trail for over a week. Is everyone alright? No one got bit?"

Jason stands frozen, staring at the girl. Piper realizes that something about her voice sounds familiar. It's hard to pin down, but the way she speaks, the way she forms her words, reminds her of Jason.

"You're her," Piper guesses. "You're Thalia."

The girl tenses. Piper is afraid she might draw her bow, but instead she pulls down her parka hood. Her hair is spiky black, with a silver tiara across her brow. Her face has a super-healthy glow to it, as if she's a little more than human, and her eyes are brilliant blue. She is the girl from Jason's photograph.

"Do I know you?" Thalia asks.

Piper takes a breath. "This might be a shock, but —"

"Thalia." Jason steps forward, his voice trembling. "I'm Jason, your brother."

For a minute, Jason and Thalia face each other, stunned. Then Thalia rushes forward and hugs him.

"My gods! She told me you were dead!" She grips Jason's face and seems to be examining everything about it. "Thank Artemis, it is you. That little scar on your lip — you tried to eat a stapler when you were two!"

Leo laughs. "Seriously?"

Hedge nods like he approved of Jason's taste. "Staplers — excellent source of iron."

"W-wait," Jason stammers. "Who told you I was dead? What happened?"

At the cave entrance, one of the white wolves barks. Thalia looks back at the wolf and nods, but she keeps her hands on Jason's face, like she's afraid he might vanish. "My wolf is telling me I don't have much time, and she's right. But we have to talk. Let's sit."

Piper does better than that. She collapses. She would've cracked her head on the cave floor if (Y/n) hadn't caught her.

Thalia rushes over. "What's wrong with her? Ah — never mind. I see. Hypothermia. Ankle." She frowns at the satyr. "Don't you know nature healing?"

Hedge scoffs. "Why do you think she looks this good? Can't you smell the Gatorade?"

The wolf at (Y/n)'s feet lifts her front paws after she helps Piper back onto the ground.

"You always were good with dogs, Jackson," Thalia's eyes twinkle with mischief. She parts with Jason, and wraps (Y/n) in a bear hug. Then her gaze turns slightly angry. "Where've you been?"

The wolf at (Y/n)'s feet barks, staring at Piper.

Thalia looks at Leo. "You and the satyr," Thalia orders, "take this girl to my friend at the entrance. Phoebe's an excellent healer."

It's cold out there!" Hedge retorts. "I'll freeze my horns off."

But Leo knows when they weren't wanted. "Come on, Hedge. These three need time to talk."

"Humph. Fine," the satyr mutters. "Didn't even get to brain anybody."

Hedge carries Piper towards the entrance. Leo is about to follow when Jason calls, "Actually, Leo, could you, urn, stick around?"

Leo sees something in Jason's eyes he doesn't expect: Jason is asking for support. He wants somebody else there. He's scared.

Leo grins. "Sticking around is my specialty."

Thalia doesn't look too happy about it, but the four of them sat at the fire – (Y/n) in between Leo and Jason. For a few minutes, nobody speaks. Jason studies his sister like she is a scary device — one that might explode if handled incorrectly. Thalia seems more at ease, as if she's used to stumbling across stranger things than long-lost relatives. But still she regards Jason in a kind of amazed trance, maybe remembering a little two-year-old who tried to eat a stapler. Leo takes a few pieces of copper wire out of his pockets and twists them together.

Finally Leo can't stand the silence. "So . . . the Hunters of Artemis. This whole 'not dating' thing — is that like always, or more of a seasonal thing, or what?" (Y/n) lets out a snort of laughter, stroking the wolf's snout – the wolf had put her head in (Y/n)'s lap.

Thalia stares at Leo as if he'd just evolved from pond scum. Yeah, definitely liking this girl.

Jason kicks him in the shin. "Don't mind Leo. He's just trying to break the ice. But, Thalia . . . what happened to our family? Who told you I was dead?"

Thalia tugs at a silver bracelet on her wrist. In the firelight, in her winter camouflage, she almost looks like Khione the snow princess — just as cold and beautiful.

"Do you remember anything?" Thalia finally asks.

Jason shakes his head. "(Y/n) and I woke up three days ago on a bus with Leo and Piper."

"Which wasn't our fault," Leo adds hastily. "Hera stole their memories."

Thalia tenses. "Hera? How do you know that?"

Jason explains about their quest — the prophecy at camp, Hera getting imprisoned, the giant taking Piper's dad, and the winter solstice deadline. Leo chimed in to add the important stuff: how he'd fixed the bronze dragon, could throw fireballs, and made excellent tacos.

Thalia's a good listener. Nothing seems to surprise her — the monsters, the prophecies, the dead rising. But when Jason mentions King Midas, she curses in Ancient Greek.

"I knew we should've burned down his mansion," she says. "That man's a menace. But we were so intent on following Lycaon — Well, I'm glad you got away. So Hera's been . . . what, hiding you all these years?"

"I don't know." Jason brings out the photo from his pocket. "She left me just enough memory to recognize your face."

Thalia looks at the picture, and her expression softens. "I'd forgotten about that. I left it in Cabin One, didn't I?"

Jason nods. "I think Hera wanted for us to meet. When we landed here, at this cave . . . I had a feeling it was important. Like I knew you were close by. Is that crazy?"

Nah," Leo assures him. "We were absolutely destined to meet your hot sister."

Thalia ignores him. Probably she just didn't want to let on how much I impress her.

"Jason," she begins, "when you're dealing with the gods, nothing is too crazy. But you can't trust Hera, especially since we're children of Zeus. She hates all children of Zeus."

"But she said something about Zeus giving her my life as a peace offering. Does that make any sense?"

The color drains from Thalia's face. "Oh, gods. Mother wouldn't have . . . You don't remember — No, of course you don't."

"What?" Jason asks.

Thalia's features seem to grow older in the firelight, like her immortality isn't working so well. "Jason . . . I'm not sure how to say this. Our mom wasn't exactly stable. She caught Zeus's eye because she was a television actress, and she was beautiful, but she didn't handle the fame well. She drank, pulled stupid stunts. She was always in the tabloids. She could never get enough attention. Even before you were born, she and I argued all the time. She . . . she knew Dad was Zeus, and I think that was too much for her to take. It was like the ultimate achievement for her to attract the lord of the sky, and she couldn't accept it when he left. The thing about the gods . . . well, they don't hang around."

Leo remembers his own mom, the way she'd assured him over and over that his dad would be back someday. But she'd never acted mad about it. She didn't seem to want Hephaestus for herself — only so Leo could know his father. She'd dealt with working a dead-end job, living in a tiny apartment, never having enough money — and she'd seemed fine with it. As long as she had Leo, she always said, life would be okay.

Leo watches Jason's face — looking more and more devastated as Thalia describes their mom — and for once, Leo doesn't feel jealous of his friend. Leo might have lost his mom. He might have had some hard times. But at least he remembers her. He finds himself tapping out a Morse code message on his knee: Love you. (Y/n), who had seen the movement of Leo's fingers, smiles gently at him, also decoding the message – one of the cons of being best friends with the smartest girl at Camp Half-Blood, you learned stuff, like Morse Code.

Leo feels bad for Jason, not having memories like that — not having anything to fall back on.

"So . . . " Jason doesn't seem able to finish the question.

"Jason, you got friends," (Y/n) tells him gently, reaching out to squeeze his hand in a sisterly fashion. "Now you have a sister. You're not alone."

Thalia offers her hand, and Jason takes it in his free one. The wolf in (Y/n)'s lap nudges her hand again, and (Y/n) takes her hand from Jason's, and starts petting the white canine's ears again.

"When I was about seven," Thalia begins, "Zeus started visiting Mom again. I think he felt bad about wrecking her life, and he seemed — different somehow. A little older and sterner, more fatherly toward me. For a while, Mom improved. She loved having Zeus around, bringing her presents, causing the sky to rumble. She always wanted more attention. That's the year you were born. Mom . . . well, I never got along with her, but you gave me a reason to hang around. You were so cute. And I didn't trust Mom to look after you. Of course, Zeus eventually stopped coming by again. He probably couldn't stand Mom's demands anymore, always pestering him to let her visit Olympus, or to make her immortal or eternally beautiful. When he left for good, Mom got more and more unstable. That was about the time the monsters started attacking me. Mom blamed Hera. She claimed the goddess was coming after you too — that Hera had barely tolerated my birth, but more demigod children from the same family was too big an insult. Mom even said she hadn't wanted to name you Jason, but Zeus insisted, as a way to appease Hera because the goddess liked that name. I didn't know what to believe."

Leo fiddles with his copper wires. He feels like an intruder. He shouldn't be listening to this, but it also makes him feel like he's getting to know Jason for the first time — like maybe being here now made up for those four months at Wilderness School, when Leo had just imagined they'd had a friendship.

"How did you guys get separated?" Leo asks.

Thalia squeezes her brother's hand. "If I'd known you were alive . . . gods, things would've been so different. But when you were two, Mom packed us in the car for a family vacation. We drove up north, toward the wine country, to this park she wanted to show us. I remember thinking it was strange because Mom never took us anywhere, and she was acting super nervous. I was holding your hand, walking you toward this big building in the middle of the park, and . . ." She takes a shaky breath. "Mom told me to go back to the car and get the picnic basket. I didn't want to leave you alone with her, but it was only for a few minutes. When I came back . . . Mom was kneeling on the stone steps, hugging herself and crying. She said — she said you were gone. She said Hera claimed you and you were as good as dead. I didn't know what she'd done. I was afraid she'd completely lost her mind. I ran all over the place looking for you, but you'd just vanished. She had to drag me away, kicking and screaming. For the next few days I was hysterical. I don't remember everything, but I called the police on Mom and they questioned her for a long time. Afterward, we fought. She told me I'd betrayed her, that I should support her, like she was the only one who mattered. Finally I couldn't stand it. Your disappearance was the last straw. I ran away from home, and I never went back, not even when Mom died a few years ago. I thought you were gone forever. I never told anyone about you—not even Annabeth or Luke, my two best friends. It was just too painful."

"Chiron knew." Jason's voice sounds far away. "When I got to camp, he took one look at me and said, 'You should be dead."'

"That doesn't make sense," Thalia insists. "I never told him."

"Hey," Leo says. "Important thing is you've got each other now, right? You two are lucky."

Thalia nods. "Leo's right. Look at you. You're my age. You've grown up."

"But where have I been?" Jason says. "How could I be missing all that time? And the Roman stuff . . ."

Thalia frowns. "The Roman stuff?"

"Your brother speaks Latin," Leo says. "He calls gods by their Roman names, and he's got tattoos." Leo points out the marks on Jason's arm. Then he gives Thalia the rundown about the other weird stuff that had happened: Boreas turning into Aquilon, Lycaon calling Jason a "child of Rome," and the wolves backing off when Jason spoke Latin to them.

Thalia plucks her bowstring. "Latin. Zeus sometimes spoke Latin, the second time he stayed with Mom. Like I said, he seemed different, more formal."

"You think he was in his Roman aspect?" Jason asks. "And that's why I think of myself as a child of Jupiter?"

"Possibly," Thalia replies. "I've never heard of something like that happening, but it might explain why you think in Roman terms, why you can speak Latin rather than Ancient Greek. That would make you unique. Still, it doesn't explain how you've survived without Camp Half-Blood. A child of Zeus, or Jupiter, or whatever you want to call him — you would've been hounded by monsters. If you were on your own, you should've died years ago. I know I wouldn't have been able to survive without friends. You would've needed training, a safe haven —"

"He wasn't alone," Leo blurts out. "We've heard about others like him."

Thalia looks at him strangely. "What do you mean?"

(Y/n) tells her about the slashed-up purple shirt in Medea's department store, and the story the Cyclopes told about the child of Mercury who spoke Latin.

"Isn't there anywhere else for demigods?" Leo asks. "I mean besides Camp Half-Blood? Maybe some crazy Latin teacher has been abducting children of the gods or something, making them think like Romans."

As soon as he says it, Leo realizes how stupid the idea sounds. Thalia's dazzling blue eyes study him intently, making him feel like a suspect in a lineup. "I've been all over the country," Thalia muses. "I've never seen evidence of a crazy Latin teacher, or demigods in purple shirts. Still . . ." Her voice trailed off, like she'd just had a troubling thought.

"What?" Jason asks.

Thalia shakes her head. "I'll have to talk to the goddess. Maybe Artemis will guide us."

"She's still talking to you?" Jason asks. "Most of the gods have gone silent."

"Artemis follows her own rules," Thalia says. "She has to be careful not to let Zeus know, but she thinks Zeus is being ridiculous closing Olympus. She's the one who set us on the trail of Lycaon. She said we'd find a lead to a missing friend of ours."

"Percy," (Y/n) finishes; Thalia nods, her face full of concern.

Leo wonders if anyone had ever looked that worried all the times he'd disappeared. He kind of doubts it.

"So what would Lycaon have to do with it?" Leo asks. "And how does it connect to us?"

"We need to find out soon," Thalia admits. "If your deadline is tomorrow, we're wasting time. Aeolus could tell you —"

A white wolf appears again at the doorway and yips insistently.

"I have to get moving." Thalia stands. "Otherwise I'll lose the other Hunters' trail. First, though, I'll take you to Aeolus's palace."

"If you can't, it's okay," Jason says, though he sounds kind of distressed.

"Oh, please." Thalia smiles and helps him up. "I haven't had a brother in years. I think I can stand a few minutes with you before you get annoying. Now, let's go!"

When Leo sees how well Piper and Hedge are being treated, he is thoroughly offended. He'd imagined them freezing their hindquarters off in the snow, but the Hunter, Phoebe, had set up this silver pavilion right outside the cave. How she'd done it so fast, Leo has no idea, but inside is a kerosene heater keeping them toasty warm and a bunch of comfy throw pillows. Piper looks back to normal, decked out in a new parka, gloves, and camo pants like a Hunter. She and Hedge and Phoebe are kicking back, drinking hot chocolate, but when Phoebe catches sight of (Y/n), she stands up and comes over to give her a quick hug.

"Jackson," Phoebe says.

"Phoebe," (Y/n) replies, smiling slightly.

"Oh, no way," Leo says. "We've been sitting in a cave and you get the luxury tent? Somebody give me hypothermia. I want hot chocolate and a parka!"

Phoebe sniffs. "Boys," she says, like it's the worst insult she can think of.

"It's all right, Phoebe," Thalia smiles slightly. "They'll need extra coats. And I think we can spare some chocolate."

Phoebe grumbles, but soon Leo, (Y/n), and Jason are also dressed in silvery winter clothes that are incredibly lightweight and warm. The hot chocolate is first-rate.

"Cheers!" says Coach Hedge. He crunches down his plastic thermos cup.

"That cannot be good for your intestines," (Y/n) jokes.

Thalia pats Piper on the back. "You up for moving?"

Piper nods. "Thanks to Phoebe, yeah. You guys are really good at this wilderness survival thing. I feel like I can run ten miles.

Thalia winks at (Y/n). "She's tough for a child of Aphrodite. I like this one."

Piper can see (Y/n)'s cheeks redden, but she can't tell whether she's flustered or just warm.

"Hey, I could run ten miles too," Leo volunteers. "Tough Hephaestus kid here. Let's hit it." Naturally, Thalia ignores him.

It takes Phoebe exactly six seconds to break camp, which Leo cannot believe. The tent self-collapses into a square the size of a pack of chewing gum. Leo wants to ask her for the blueprints, but they don't have time.

Thalia runs uphill through the snow, hugging a tiny little path on the side of the mountain, and soon Leo is regretting trying to look macho, because the Hunters leave him in the dust.

Coach Hedge leaps around like a happy mountain goat, coaxing them on like he used to do on track days at school. "Come on, Valdez! Pick up the pace! Let's chant. I've got a girl in Kalamazoo —"

"Let's not," Thalia snaps.

So they run in silence.

Leo falls in next to Jason at the back of the group. "How you doing, man?"

Jason's expression is enough of an answer: Not good.

"Thalia takes it so calmly," Jason says. "Like it's no big deal that I appeared. I didn't know what I was expecting, but . . . she's not like me. She seems so much more together."

"Hey, she's not fighting amnesia," Leo says. "Plus, she's had more time to get used to this whole demigod thing. You fight monsters and talk to gods for a while, you probably get used to surprises."

"Maybe," Jason says. "I just wish I understood what happened when I was two, why my mom got rid of me. Thalia ran away because of me."

"Hey, whatever's happened, it wasn't your fault. And your sister is pretty cool. She's a lot like you."

Jason takes that in silence. Leo wonders if he'd said the right things. He wants to make Jason feel better, but this is way outside his comfort zone.

Leo wishes he can reach inside his tool belt and pick just the right wrench to fix Jason's memory — maybe a little hammer — bonk the sticking spot and make everything run right. That would be a lot easier than trying to talk it through. Not good with organic life forms. Thanks for those inherited traits, Dad.

He is so lost in thought, he didn't realize the others had stopped. He slams into (Y/n), who slams into Thalia, and nearly sends the three of them down the side of the mountain the hard way. Fortunately, the Hunter is light on her feet. She steadies them, then points up.

"That," Leo chokes, "is a really large rock."

They stand near the summit of Pikes Peak. Below them the world is blanketed in clouds. The air is so thin, Leo can hardly breathe. Night had set in, but a full moon shone and the stars are incredible. Stretching out to the north and south, peaks of other mountains rises from the clouds like islands — or teeth.

But the real show is above them. Hovering in the sky, about a quarter mile away, is a massive free-floating island of glowing purple stone. It is hard to judge in size, but (Y/n) figures it's about half the length of a football stadium, and just as tall. The sides are rugged cliffs, riddled with caves, and every once in a while a gust of wind bursts out with a sound like an organ blast. At the top of the rock, brass walls ring the fortress.

Piper leans over, her mouth next to (Y/n)'s ear, "It's really pretty."

"Just like you," slips out of (Y/n)'s mouth.

Piper pulls away, raising an eyebrow. "That was smooth, Jackson."

(Y/n) flushes, looking at the only thing connecting Pikes Peak to the floating island – a narrow bridge of ice that glistens in the moonlight.

Then (Y/n) realizes the bridge isn't exactly ice, because it isn't solid. As the winds changed direction, the bridge snakes around — blurring and thinning, in some places even breaking into a dotted line like the vapor trail of a plane.

"We're not seriously crossing that," Leo says.

Thalia shrugs. "I'm not a big fan of heights, I'll admit. But if you want to get to Aeolus's fortress, this is the only way."

"Is the fortress always hanging there?" Piper asks. "How can people not notice it sitting on top of Pikes Peak?"

"The Mist," Thalia says. "Still, mortals do notice it indirectly. Some days, Pikes Peak looks purple. People say it's a trick of the light, but actually it's the color of Aeolus's palace, reflecting off the mountain face."

"It's enormous," Jason says.

Thalia laughs. "You should see Olympus, little brother."

"You're serious? You've been there?"

Thalia grimaces, exchanging a look with (Y/n) – as if it isn't a good memory. "We should go across in two different groups. The bridge is fragile."

"That's reassuring," Leo says. "Jason, can't you just fly us up there?"

Thalia laughs. Then she seems to realize Leo's question isn't a joke. "Wait . . . Jason, you can fly?"

Jason gazes up at the floating fortress. "Well, sort of. More like I can control the winds. But the winds up here are so strong, I'm not sure I'd want to try. Thalia you mean . . . you can't fly?

For a second, Thalia looks genuinely afraid. Then she gets her expression under control. Leo realizes she is a lot more scared of heights than she is letting on. "Truthfully," she says, "I've never tried. Might be better if we stuck to the bridge."

Coach Hedge taps the ice vapor trail with his hoof, then jumps onto the bridge. Amazingly, it holds his weight. "Easy! I'll go first. Piper, (Y/n), come on, girls. I'll give you a hand."

"No, that's okay," Piper starts to say, but the coach grabs her's and (Y/n)'s hands and drags them up the bridge.

When they are about halfway, the bridge still seems to be holding them just fine.

Thalia turns to her Hunter friend. "Phoebe, I'll be back soon. Go find the others. Tell them I'm on my way."

"You sure?" Phoebe narrows her eyes at Leo and Jason, like they might kidnap Thalia.

"It's fine," Thalia promises.

Phoebe nods reluctantly, then races down the mountain path, the white wolves at her heels.

"Jason, Leo, just be careful where you step," Thalia says. "It hardly ever breaks."

"It hasn't met me yet," Leo muttered, but he and Jason lead the way up the bridge.

Halfway up, things start going wrong. Piper, (Y/n), and Coach Hedge had already made it safely to the top, and are waving at them, encouraging them to keep climbing, but Leo gets distracted. He is thinking about bridges – how he would design something way more stable than this shifting ice vapor business if this was his palace. He is pondering braces and support columns. Then a sudden revelation stops him in his tracks.

"Why do they have a bridge?" he asks.

Thalia frowns. "Leo, this isn't a good place to stop. What do you mean?"

"They're wind spirits," Leo says. "Can't they fly?"

"Yes, but sometimes they need a way to connect to the world below."

"So the bridge isn't always here?" Leo asks.

Thalia shakes her head. "The wind spirits don't like to anchor to the earth, but sometimes it's necessary. Like now. They know you're coming."

Leo's mind is racing. He is so excited he can almost feel his body's temperature rising. He can't quite put his thoughts into words, but he

knows he's onto something important.

"Leo?" Jason says. "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, gods," Thalia says. "Keep moving. Look at your feet."

Leo shuffles backwards. With horror, he realizes his body temperature really is rising, just as it had years ago at that picnic table under the pecan tree, when his anger had gotten away from him. Now, excitement is causing the reaction. His pants steam in the cold air. His shoes are literally smoking, and the bridge doesn't like it. The ice is thinning.

"Leo, stop it," Jason warned. "You're going to melt it."

"I'll try," Leo says. But his body is overheating on its own, running as fast as his thoughts. "Listen, Jason, what did Hera call you in that dream? She called you a bridge."

"Leo, seriously, cool down," Thalia says. "I don't what you're talking about, but the bridge is —''

"Just listen," Leo insists. "If Jason is a bridge, what's he connecting? Maybe two different places that normally don't get along—like the air palace and the ground. You had to be somewhere before this, right? And Hera said you were an exchange."

"An exchange." Thalia's eyes widen. "Oh, gods."

Jason frowns. "What are you two talking about?"

Thalia mutters something like a prayer. "I understand now why Artemis sent me here. Jason—she told me to hunt for Lycaon and I would find a clue about Percy. You are the clue. Artemis wanted us to meet so I could hear your story."

"I don't understand," he protests. "I don't have a story. I don't remember anything."

"But Leo's right," Thalia said. "It's all connected. If we just knew where—"

Leo snaps his fingers. "Jason, what did you call that place in your dream? That ruined house. The Wolf House?"

Thalia nearly chokes. "The Wolf House? Jason, why didn't you tell me that! That's where they're keeping Hera?"

"You know where it is?" Jason asked.

"Something's wrong," (Y/n) realizes, watching as Jason grabs Leo's coat. (Y/n) goes to step back onto the bridge to help, but Piper pulls her back.

"Don't," she says. "You might make it worse."

Then Jason and Leo start scrambling up the bridge. (Y/n) grabs the boys' hands, pulling them onto the floating island. When they turn, they see Thalia backing down the bridge as it crumbles.

"Find out where the giant is keeping Piper's dad! Save him!" she shouts. "I'll take the Hunters to the Wolf House and hold it until you can get there. We can do both!"

"But where is the Wolf House?" Jason shouts.

"You know where it is, little brother!" She is so far away now that they can barely hear her voice over the wind. Leo is pretty sure she says: "I'll see you there. I promise."

Then she turns and races down the dissolving bridge.

Leo looks back down. The top of Pikes Peak floats below them in a sea of clouds, but there is no sign of Thalia. And Leo had just burned their only exit.

"What happened?" Piper demands. "Leo, why are your clothes smoking?"

"I got a little heated," Leo gasps. "Sorry, Jason. Honest. I didn't —''

"It's all right," Jason says, but his expression is grim. "We've got less than twenty-four hours to rescue a goddess and Piper's dad. Let's go see the king of the winds."

. . .

I found my sister and lost her in less than an hour, Jason thinks miserably. As they climb the cliffs of the floating island, he keeps looking back, but Thalia is gone.

Despite what she'd said about meeting again, Jason wonders; she's found a new family with the Hunters, and a new mother in Artemis. She had seemed so confident and comfortable with her life, Jason isn't sure if he'd ever be a part of it. And she'd seemed so happy when she'd found (Y/n), and so set on finding Percy. Did she ever search for me like that?

Not fair, Jason retorts. She thought you were dead.

He could also barely tolerate what Thalia had said about their mom. It was like she'd handed him a baby – a really loud, ugly baby – and said, Here, this is yours. Carry it. He doesn't want to carry it. He doesn't want to look at it or claim it. He hadn't wanted to know she had an unstable mother who'd gotten rid of him to appease a goddess. No wonder Thalia ran away.

And then he remembers the Zeus cabin at camp – the tiny little alcove Thalia had used as a bunk, out of sight from the glowering statue of the sky god. Dad isn't much of a bargain either, Jason thinks, understanding why Thalia had renounced that part of her life, though he's still resentful. I can't be so lucky. I get stuck holding the bag – literally.

The golden backpack of winds is strapped over his shoulders, and the closer they get to Aeolus's palace, the heavier they get. The winds keep struggling, rumbling and bumping around.

The only one who seems to be in a good mood is Coach Hedge. He keeps bouncing up the slippery staircase and trotting back down. "Come on, cupcakes! Only a few thousand steps."

As they climb, Leo, (Y/n), and Piper leave Jason in his silence. Maybe they can sense my bad mood. Piper keeps glancing back, worried, as if he were the one who'd almost died of hypothermia rather than she. Or maybe she is thinking about Thalia's idea. Jason doens't really understand how they were going to save Piper's dad and Hera, and he isn't sure if the possibility had made Piper more hopeful or just more anxious.

Leo keeps swatting his own legs, checking for signs that his pants are on fire. He wasn't steaming anymore, but the incident on the ice bridge had really freaked Jason out. Leo hadn't seemed to realize that he had smoke coming out his ears and flames dancing through his hair. If Leo started spontaneously combusting every time he got excited, they were going to have a tough time taking him anywhere. Jason imagines trying to get food at a restaurant. I'll have a cheeseburger and—Ahhh! My friend's on fire! Get me a bucket!

Mostly, though, Jason worries about what Leo had said. Jason doesn't want to be a bridge, or an exchange, or anything else. He just wants to know where he'd come from. And Thalia had looked so unnerved when Leo mentioned the burned-out house in his dreams — the place the wolf Lupa had told him was his starting point. How did Thalia know that place, and why did she assume I could find it?

The answer seems close. But the nearer Jason gets to it, the less it cooperated, like the winds on his back.

Jason keeps catching (Y/n) glancing back at him, as though trying to find something to say.

They arrive at the top of the island. Bronze walls march all the way around the fortress grounds, though Jason can't imagine who would possibly attack this place. Twenty-foot-high gates open for them, and a road of polished purple stone leads up to the main citadel — a white-columned rotunda, Greek style, like one of the monuments in Washington, D.C. — except for the cluster of satellite dishes and radio towers on the roof.

"That's bizarre," Piper mutters.

"Guess you can't get cable on a floating island," Leo says. "Dang, check this guy's front yard."

The rotunda sits in the center of a quarter-mile circle. The grounds are amazing in a scary way. They are divided into four sections like big pizza slices, each one representing a season.

The section on their right is an icy waste, with bare trees and a frozen lake. Snowmen roll across the landscape as the wind blows, so Jason isn't sure if they were decorations or alive.

To their left is an autumn park with gold and red trees. Mounds of leaves blew into patterns — gods, people, animals that run after each other before scattering back into leaves.

In the distance, Jason can see two more areas behind the rotunda. One looks like a green pasture with sheep made out of clouds. The last section is a desert where tumbleweeds scratch strange patterns in the sand like Greek letters, smiley faces, and a huge advertisement that read: watch aeolus nightly!

"One section for each of the four wind gods," Jason guesses. "Four cardinal directions."

I'm loving that pasture." Coach licks licked his lips. "You guys mind —"

"Go ahead," Jason says. He is actually relieved to send the satyr off. It would be hard enough getting on Aeolus's good side without Coach Hedge waving his club and screaming, "Die!"

While the satyr runs off to attack springtime, Jason, Leo, (Y/n), and Piper walk down the road to the steps of the palace. They pass through the front doors into a white marble foyer decorated with purple banners that read olympian weather channel, and some that just read ow!

"Hello!" A woman floats up to them. Literally floated. She is pretty in that elfish way Jason associates with nature spirits at Camp Half-Blood — petite, slightly pointy ears, and an ageless face that could've been sixteen or thirty. Her brown eyes twinkle cheerfully. Even though there is no wind, her dark hair blows in slow motion, shampoo-commercial style. Her white gown billows around her like parachute material. Jason can't tell if she has feet, but if so, they don't touch the floor. She has a white tablet computer in her hand. "Are you from Lord Zeus?" she asks. "We've been expecting you."

Jason tries to respond, but it is a little hard to think straight, because he'd realizes the woman was see-through. Her shape fades in and out like she is made of fog. "Are you a ghost?" he asks.

Right away he knows he'd insulted her. The smile turns into a pout. "I'm an aura, sir. A wind nymph, as you might expect, working for the lord of the winds. My name is Mellie. We don't have ghosts."

Piper comes to the rescue. "No, of course you don't! My friend simply mistook you for Helen of Troy, the most beautiful mortal of all time. It's an easy mistake."

Wow, she's good, (Y/n) thinks.

The complement seems a little over top, but Mellie blushes. "Oh . . . well, then. So you are from Zeus?"

"Er," Jason starts. "I'm the son of Zeus, yeah."

"Excellent! Please, right this way," she leads them through some security doors into another lobby, consulting her tablet as she floats. She doesn't look where she is going, but apparently it doesn't matter as she drifts straight through a marble column with no problem. "We're out of prime time now, so that's good," she muses. "I can fit you in right before his 11:12 spot."

"Urn, okay," Jason says.

The lobby is a pretty distracting place. Winds blast around them, so Jason feels like he is pushing through an invisible crowd. Doors blow open and slam by themselves.

The things Jason can see are just as bizarre. Paper airplanes of all different sizes and shapes speed around, and other wind nymphs, aurai, would occasionally pluck them out of the air, unfold and read them, then toss them back into the air, where the planes would refold themselves and keep flying.

A creature flutters past. She looks like a mix between an old lady and a chicken on steroids. She has a wrinkled face with black hair tied in a hairnet, arms like a human plus wings like a chicken, and a fat, feathered body with talons for feet. It's amazing she could fly at all. She keeps drifting around and bumping into things like a parade balloon.

"Not an aura?" Jason asks Mellie as the creature wobbles by.

Mellie laughs. "That's a harpy, of course. Our, ah, ugly stepsisters, I suppose you would say. Don't you have harpies on Olympus? They're spirits of violent gusts, unlike us aurai. We're all gentle breezes." She bats her eyes at Jason.

"'Course you are," he replies.

"So," Piper prompts, "you were taking us to see Aeolus?"

Mellie leads them through a set of doors like an airlock. Above the interior door, a green light blinks.

"We have a few minutes before he starts," Mellie says cheerfully. "He probably won't kill you if we go in now. Come along!"

. . .

(Y/n)'s jaw drops. The central section of Aelous's fortress is as big as a cathedral, with a soaring domed roof covered in silver. Television equipment floats randomly through the air – camera, spotlights, set pieces, potted plants. And there's no floor. Leo almost falls into the chasm before Jason pulls him back."

"Holy —!" Leo gulps. "Hey, Mellie. A little warning next time!"

An enormous circular pit plunges into the heart of the mountain. It is probably half a mile deep, honeycombed with caves. Some of the tunnels probably led straight outside. (Y/n) remembers seeing winds blast out of them when they'd been on Pikes Peak. Other caves is sealed with some glistening material like glass or wax. The whole cavern bustles with harpies, aurai, and paper airplanes, but for someone who couldn't fly, it would be a very long, very fatal fall.

"Oh, my," Mellie gasps. "I'm so sorry." She unclips a walkie-talkie from somewhere inside her robes and speaks into it: "Hello, sets? Is that Nuggets? Hi, Nuggets. Could we get a floor in the main studio, please? Yes, a solid one. Thanks."

A few seconds later, an army of harpies rises from the pit — three dozen or so demon chicken ladies, all carrying squares of various building material. They go to work hammering and gluing – and using large quantities of duct tape, which doesn't reassure (Y/n). In no time there is a makeshift floor snaking out over the chasm. It was is of plywood, marble blocks, carpet squares, wedges of grass sod — just about anything.

"That can't be safe," Jason comments.

"Oh, it is!" Mellie assures him. "The harpies are very good."

Easy for her to say. She just drifts across without touching the floor, but Jason decides he has the best chance at surviving, since he can fly, so he steps out first. Amazingly, the floor holds.

Piper follows, then (Y/n), and then Leo.

Mellie leads them towards the middle of the chamber, where a loose sphere of flat-panel video screens floats around a kind of control center. A man hovers inside, checking monitors and reading paper airplane messages.

The man pays them no attention as Mellie brings them forward. She pushes a forty-two-inch Sony out of their way and leads them into the control area.

Leo whistles. "I got to get a room like this."

The floating screens show all sorts of television programs. Some Jason recognizes — news broadcasts, mostly — but some programs look a little strange: gladiators fighting, demigods battling monsters. Maybe they're movies, but they look more like reality shows.

At the far end of the sphere is a silky blue backdrop like a cinema screen, with cameras and studio lights floating around it.

The man in the center is talking into an earpiece phone. He has a remote control in each hand and is pointing them at various screens, seemingly at random.

He is wearing a business suit that looks like the sky — blue mostly, but dappled with clouds that change, darken, and move across the fabric. He looks like he's in his sixties, with a shock of white hair, but he has a ton of stage makeup on, and that smooth plastic-surgery look to his face, so he appears not really young, not really old, just wrong — like a Ken doll someone had halfway melted in a microwave. His eyes dart back and forth from screen to screen, like he's trying to absorb everything at once. He mutts things into his phone, and his mouth keeps twitching. He is either amused, or crazy, or both.

Mellie floats towards him. "Ah, sir, Mr. Aeolus, these demigods —"

"Hold it!" He holds up a hand to silence her, then points at one of the screens. "Watch!"

It's one of those storm-chaser programs, where insane thrill-seekers drive after tornados. As Jason watches, a Jeep plows straight into a funnel cloud and gets tossed into the sky.

Aeolus shrieks with delight. "The Disaster Channel. People do that on purpose !" He turned toward Jason with a mad grin. "Isn't that amazing? Let's watch it again."

"Urn, sir," Mellie says, "this is Jason, son of—"

"Yes, yes, I remember," Aeolus interupts. "You're back. How did it go?"

Jason hesitates. "Sorry? I think you've mistaken me —"

"No, no, Jason Grace, aren't you? It was — what — last year? You were on your way to fight a sea monster, I believe."

"I — I don't remember."

Aelous laughs. "Must not have been a very good sea monster! No, I remember every hero who's ever come to me for aid. Odysseus — gods, he docked at my island for a month! At least you only stayed a few days. Now, watch this video. These ducks get sucked straight into —"

"Sir," Mellie interrupts. "Two minutes to air."

"Air!" Aeolus exclaims. "I love air. How do I look? Makeup!"

Immediately a small tornado of brushes, blotters, and cotton balls descend on Aeolus. They blur across his face in a cloud of flesh-tone smoke until his coloration is even more gruesome than before. Wind swirl through his hair and left it sticking up like a frosted Christmas tree.

"Mr. Aeolus." Jason slips off the golden backpack. "We brought you these rogue storm spirits."

"Did you!" Aeolus looks at the bag like it's a gift from a fan — something he really doesn't want. "Well, how nice."

Leo nudges him, and Jason offers the bag. "Boreas sent us to capture them for you. We hope you'll accept them and stop — you know — ordering demigods to be killed."

Aeolus laughs, and looks incredulously at Mellie. "Demigods be killed — did I order that?"

Mellie checks her computer tablet. "Yes, sir, fifteenth of September. 'Storm spirits released by the death of Typhon, demigods to be held responsible,' etc . . . yes, a general order for them all to be killed."

"Oh, pish," Aeolus says. "I was just grumpy. Rescind that order, Mellie, and urn, who's on guard duty — Teriyaki? — Teri, take these storm spirits down to cell block Fourteen E, will you?"

A harpy swoops out of nowhere, snatches the golden bag, and spirals into the abyss.

Aeolus grins at Jason. "Now, sorry about that kill-on-sight business. But gods, I really was mad, wasn't I?" His face suddenly darkens, and his suit does the same, the lapels flashing with lightning. "You know . . . I remember now. Almost seemed like a voice was telling me to give that order. A little cold tingle on the back of my neck."

Jason tenses. A cold tingle on the back of his neck . . . Why does that sound so familiar? "A . . . um, voice in your head, sir?"

"Yes. How odd. Mellie, should we kill them?"

"No, sir," she says patiently. "They just brought us the storm spirits, which makes everything all right."

"Of course." Aeolus laughs. "Sorry. Mellie, let's send the demigods something nice. A box of chocolates, perhaps."

"A box of chocolates to every demigod in the world, sir?"

"No, too expensive. Never mind. Wait, it's time! I'm on!"

Aeolus flies off towards the blue screen as newscast music starts to play.

Jason looks at Piper, (Y/n), and Leo, who seem just as confused as he is.

"Mellie," he says , "is he . . . always like that?"

She smiles sheepishly. "Well, you know what they say. If you don't like his mood, wait five minutes. That expression 'whichever way the wind blows' — that was based on him."

"And that thing about the sea monster," Jason says. "Was I here before?"

Mellie blushes. "I'm sorry, I don't remember. I'm Mr. Aeolus's new assistant. I've been with him longer than most, but still — not that long."

"How long do his assistants usually last?" Piper asks curiously.

"Oh . . ." Mellie thinks for a moment. "I've been doing this for . . . twelve hours?"

A voice blares from floating speakers: "And now, weather every twelve minutes! Here's your forecaster for Olympian Weather — the OW! channel — Aeolus!"

Lights blaze on Aeolus, who is now standing in front of the blue screen. His smile is unnaturally white, and he looks like he'd had so much caffeine his face is about to explode.

"Hello, Olympus! Aeolus, master of the winds here, with weather every twelve! We'll have a low-pressure system moving over Florida today so expect milder temperatures since Demeter wishes to spare the citrus farmers!" He gestures at the blue screen, but when (Y/n0 checks the monitors, she sees that a digital image is being projected behind Aeolus, so it looks like he's standing in front of a U.S. map with animated smiley suns and frowny storm clouds. "Along the eastern seaboard — oh, hold on." He taps his earpiece. "Sorry, folks! Poseidon is angry with Miami today so it looks like that Florida freeze is back on! Sorry, Demeter. Over in the Midwest, I'm not sure what St. Louis did to offend Zeus, but you can expect winter storms! Boreas himself is being called down to punish the area with ice. Bad news, Missouri! No, wait. Hephaestus feels sorry for central Missouri, so you all will have much more moderate temperatures and sunny skies."

Aeolus keeps going like that — forecasting each area of the country and changing his prediction two or three times as he gets messages over his earpiece — the gods apparently putting in orders for various winds and weather.

"This can't be right," Jason whispers. "Weather isn't this random."

Mellie smirks. "And how often are the mortal weathermen right? They talk about fronts and air pressure and moisture, but the weather surprises them all the time. At least Aeolus tells us why it's so unpredictable. Very hard job, trying to appease all the gods at once. It's enough to drive anyone . . ."

She trails off, but Jason knows what she meant. Mad. Aeolus is completely mad.

"And that's the weather," Aeolus concludes. "See you in twelve minutes, because I'm sure it'll change!"

The lights shut off, the video monitors go back to random coverage, and just for a moment, Aeolus's face sags with weariness. Then he seems to remember he has guests, and he puts a smile back on.

"So, you brought me some rogue storm spirits," Aeolus says. "I suppose . . . thanks! And did you want something else? I assume so. Demigods always do."

Mellie says, "Urn, sir, this is Zeus's son."

"Yes, yes. I know that. I said I remembered him from before."

"But, sir, they're here from Olympus."

Aeolus looks stunned. Then he laughs so abruptly, Jason almost jumps into the chasm. "You mean you're here on behalf of your father this time? Finally! I knew they would send someone to renegotiate my contract!"

"Urn, what?" Jason asks.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Aeolus sighs with relief. "It's been what, three thousand years since Zeus made me master of the winds. Not that I'm ungrateful, of course! But really, my contract is so vague. Obviously I'm immortal, but 'master of the winds.' What does that mean? Am I a nature spirit? A demigod? A god? I want to be god of the winds, because the benefits are so much better. Can we start with that?"

Jason looks at his friends, mystified.

"Dude," Leo says, "you think we're here to promote you?"

"You are, then?" Aeolus grins. His business suit turns completely blue — not a cloud in the fabric. "Marvelous! I mean, I think I've shown quite a bit of initiative with the weather channel, eh? And of course I'm in the press all the time. So many books have been written about me: Into Thin Air, Up in the Air, Gone with the Wind —"

"Er, I don't think those are about you," Jason says, before he notices Mellie shaking her head.

"Nonsense," Aeolus says. "Mellie, they're biographies of me, aren't they?"

"Absolutely, sir," she squeaks.

"There, you see? I don't read. Who has time? But obviously the mortals love me. So, we'll change my official title to god of the winds. Then, about salary and staff —"

"Sir," Jason says, "we're not from Olympus."

Aeolus blinks. "But —"

"I'm the son of Zeus, yes," Jason says, "but we're not here to negotiate your contract. We're on a quest and we need your help."

Aeolus's expression hardens. "Like last time? Like every hero who comes here? Demigods! It's always about you, isn't it?"

"Sir, please, I don't remember last time, but if you helped me once before —"

"I'm always helping! Well, sometimes I'm destroying, but mostly I'm helping, and sometimes I'm asked to do both at the same time! Why Aeneas, the first of your kind —"

"My kind?" Jason asks. "You mean, demigods?"

"Oh, please!" Aeolus says. "I mean your line of demigods. You know, Aeneas, son of Venus — the only surviving hero of Troy. When the Greeks burned down his city, he escaped to Italy, where he founded the kingdom that would eventually become Rome, blah, blah, blah. That's what I meant."

"I don't get it," Jason admits.

Aeolus rolls his eyes. "The point being, I was thrown in the middle of that conflict, too! Juno calls up: 'Oh, Aeolus, destroy Aeneas's ships for me. I don't like him.' Then Neptune says, 'No, you don't! That's my territory. Calm the winds.' Then Juno is like, 'No, wreck his ships, or I'll tell Jupiter you're uncooperative!' Do you think it's easy juggling requests like that?"

"No," Jason said. "I guess not."

"And don't get me started on Amelia Earhart! I'm still getting angry calls from Olympus about knocking her out of the sky!"

"We just want information," Piper says in her most calming voice. "We hear you know everything."

Aeolus straightens his lapels and looks slightly mollified. "Well . . . that's true, of course. For instance, I know that this business here" — he waggles his fingers at the four of them — "this harebrained scheme of Juno's to bring you all together is likely to end in bloodshed. As for you, Piper McLean, I know your father is in serious trouble." He holds out his hand, and a scrap of paper flutters into his grasp. It's a photo of Piper with a guy who must've been her dad. His face does look familiar. Jason is pretty sure he'd seen him in some movies.

Piper takes the photo. Her hands are shaking. "This — this is from his wallet."

"Yes ," Aeolus says. "All things lost in the wind eventually come to me. The photo blew away when the Earthborn captured him."

"The what?" Piper asks.

Aeolus waves aside the question and narrows his eyes at Leo. "Now, you, son of Hephaestus . . . Yes, I see your future." Another paper falls into the wind god's hands — an old tattered drawing done in crayons.

Leo takes it as if it might be coated in poison. He staggers backwards.

"Leo?" Jason says. "What is it?"

"Something I — I drew when I was a kid." He folds it quickly and put it in his coat. "It's . . . yeah, it's nothing."

Aeolus laughs. "Really? Just the key to your success!" Aeolus then looks at (Y/n). He waves his hand, and a photograph flies down, falling into the daughter of Poseidon's hands.

(Y/n) chokes back a sob as she studies the photo. It was a picture of herself, Percy, and their parents, Sally and Paul, and Percy's arm is wrapped around Annabeth's waist – and everyone looked happy.

(Y/n) clears her throat, and shoves the picture into her pocket, she aggressively wipes at her eyes and Leo, Jason, and Piper avoid her gaze.

Aeolus shrugs it aside, "Now, where were we? Ah, yes, you wanted information. Are you sure about that? Sometimes information can be dangerous." He smiles at Jason like he's issuing a challenge. Behind him, Mellie shakes her head in warning.

"Yeah," Jason says. "We need to find the lair of Enceladus."

Aeolus's smile melts, "The giant? Why would you want to go there? He's horrible! He doesn't even watch my program!"

Piper holds up the photo. "Aeolus, he's got my father. We need to rescue him and find out where Hera is being held captive."

"Now, that's impossible," Aeolus says. "Even I can't see that, and believe me, I've tried. There's a veil of magic over Hera's location—very strong, impossible to locate."

"She's at a place called the Wolf House," Jason says.

"Hold on!" Aelous puts a hand to his forehead and closes his eyes. "I'm getting something! Yes, she's at a place called the Wolf House! Sadly, I don't know where that is."

"Enceladus does," Piper persists. "If you help us find him, we could get the location of the goddess —"

"Yeah," Leo adds, catching on. "And if we save her, she'd be really grateful to you —"

"And Zeus might promote you," (Y/n) finishes.

Aeolus's eyebrows creep up. "A promotion — and all you want from me is the giant's location?"

"Well, if you could get us there, too," Jason amends, "that would be great."

Mellie claps her hands in excitement. "Oh, he could do that! He often sends helpful winds —"

Mellie, quiet!" Aeolus snaps. "I have half a mind to fire you for letting these people in under false pretenses."

Her face pales. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"It wasn't her fault," Jason says, "But about that help . . ."

Aelous tilted his head as if thinking. Then Jason realized the wind lord was listening to voices in his earpiece.

"Well . . . Zeus approves," Aeolus mutters. "He says . . . he says it would be better if you could avoid saving her until after the weekend, because he has a big party planned — Ow! That's Aphrodite yelling at him, reminding him that the solstice starts at dawn. She says I should help you. And Hephaestus . . . yes. Hmm. Very rare they agree on anything. Poseidon agrees . . . Hold on . . ."

Jason smiled at his friends. Finally, they were having some good luck. Their godly parents were standing up for them.

Back towards the entrance, Jason hears a loud belch. Coach Hedge waddles in from the lobby, grass all over his face. Mellie sees him coming across the makeshift floor and catches her breath. "Who is that?"

Jason stifles a cough. "That? That's just Coach Hedge. Uh, Gleeson Hedge. He's our . . ." Jason wasn't sure what to call him: teacher, friend, problem? "Our guide."

"He's so goatly," Mellie murmurs.

Behind her, Piper poofs out her cheeks, pretending to vomit.

"What's up, guys?" Hedge trots over. "Wow, nice place. Oh! Sod squares."

"Coach, you just ate," Jason says. "And we're using the sod as a floor. This is, ah, Mellie —"

"An aura." Hedge smiles winningly. "Beautiful as a summer breeze."

Mellie blushes.

"And Aeolus here was just about to help us," Jason explains.

"Yes," the wind lord mutters. "It seems so. You'll find Enceladus on Mount Diablo."

"Devil Mountain?" Leo questions. "That doesn't sound good."

"I remember that place!" Piper says. "I went there once with my dad. It's just east of San Francisco Bay."

The Bay Area again?" The coach shakes his head. "Not good. Not good at all."

"Now . . .''Aeolus began to smile. "As to getting you there —"

Suddenly his face goes slack. He bends over and taps his earpiece as if it were malfunctioning. When he straightened again, his eyes are wild. Despite the makeup, he looks like an old man — an old, very frightened man. "She hasn't spoke to me for centuries. I can't — yes, yes I understand."

He swallows, regarding Jason as if he had suddenly turned into a giant cockroach. "I'm sorry, son of Jupiter. New orders. You all have to die."

Mellie squeaks. "But — but, sir! Zeus said to help them. Poseidon, Aphrodite, Hephaestus —"

"Mellie!" Aeolus snaps. "Your job is already on the line. Besides, there are some orders that transcend even the wishes of the gods, especially when it comes to the forces of nature."

"Whose orders?" Jason says. "Zeus will fire you if you don't help us!"

"I doubt it." Aeolus flicks his wrist, and far below them, a cell door opens in the pit. Jason could hear storm spirits screaming out of it, spiraling up towards them, howling for blood.

"Even Zeus understands the order of things," Aeolus said. "And if she is waking — by all the gods — she cannot be denied. Good-bye, heroes. I'm terribly sorry, but I'll have to make this quick. I'm back on the air in four minutes."

Jason summons his sword. Coach Hedge pulls out his club. Mellie the aura screams, "No!"

She dives at their feet just as the storm spirits hit with hurricane force, blasting the floor to pieces, shredding the carpet samples and marble and linoleum into what should've been lethal projectiles, had Mellie's robes not spread out like a shield and absorbed the brunt of the impact. The six of them fall into the pit, and Aeolus screams above them, "Mellie, you are so fired!"

"Quick," Mellie yells. "Son of Zeus, do you have any power over the air?"

"A little!"

"Then help me, or you're all dead!" Mellie grabs his hand, and an electric charge goes through Jason's arm. He understands what she needs. They have to control their fall and head for one of the open tunnels. The storm spirits are following them down, closing rapidly, bringing with them a cloud of deadly shrapnel.

(Y/n) grabs Piper's hand. "Group hug!"

Hedge, Leo, (Y/n), and Piper tried to huddle together, hanging onto Jason and Mellie as they fall.

"This is NOT GOOD!" Leo yells.

"Bring it on, gas bags!" Hedge screams up at the storm spirits. "I'll pulverize you!"

"He's magnificent," Mellie sighs.

"Concentrate?" Jason prompts.

"Right!" she says.

They channel the wind so their fall becomes more of a tumble into the nearest open chute. Still, they slam into the tunnel at painful speed and go rolling over each other down a steep vent that is not designed for people. There's no way they can stop.

Mellie's robes billow around her. Jason and the others cling to her desperately, and they begin to slow down, but the storm spirits are screaming into the tunnel behind them.

"Can't — hold — long," Mellie warns. "Stay together! When the winds hit —"

"You're doing great, Mellie," Hedge says. "My own mama was an aura, you know. She couldn't have done better herself."

"Iris-message me?" Mellie pleads.

Hedge winks.

"Could you guys plan your date later?" Piper screams. "Look!"

Behind them, the tunnel is turning dark. Jason can feel his ears pop as the pressure builds.

"Can't hold them," Mellie warns. "But I'll try to shield you, do you one more favor."

"Thanks, Mellie," Jason says. "I hope you get a new job."

The aurai smiles, and then dissolves, wrapping them in a warm, gentle breeze. Then the real winds hit, shooting them into the sky so fast, Jason blacks out.

Word Count: 12090 words

#piper mclean x reader #piper mclean x fem reader #piper mclean x female reader #the lost hero #the son of neptune #the heroes of olympus #the blood of olympus #the house of hades #the mark of athena #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase x sister reader #percy jackson x sister reader

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fordo-wifey · 1 month

Text

Shadows of the Republic

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors Don't Interact

Link to the rest of the chapters-> Shadows of the Republic

Summary: The fall of the Republic, and the birth of the Empire, Wolffe—a former clone Commander—finds himself in limbo. Battling his demons, as he struggles to create a life worth living, but that’s when a chance meeting with Jaina Pellian, a human woman who had fallen into the same trap as him. Will his life be better with her? Or will he suffer a loss he can’t recover from?

Tags: Heavy Angst, Angst and Romance, Inspired by Fight Club, Organized Crime, Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Character Death, Kissing, Slow Build, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hearing Voices, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

The room was quiet, a man whose right eye was replaced with an artificial one had also come with a nasty scar. Leaning on the armrest of the chair he sat in, his good eye scanned the faces of Twi’Leks, and other species of humanoid aliens that were waiting to be sponsored by a man who was anything but good. Shifting in his seat, knowing he smelled awful as many had moved away from him. A thing that sparked a memory for a particular clone—who he had found out at the time, never took showers when going to the front lines—amused at the memory. But time had passed, and the number of people in the waiting room lessened until it was just the clone, himself.

A droid, who reminded him of the gold-plated translator that he had often worked with during the Clone Wars, called him up to their desk. “He is ready to see you now.” It said with a cheerful voice before gesturing for the man to follow the tall humanoid who looked more human than whatever he was mixed with.

He followed the man through two large doors that hissed open, revealing a large room where the clone noted the deep color of red painted on the walls and the paintings that were of beautiful landscapes. Passing the couches that sat facing one another, the pair approached two chairs that sat in front of a wooden desk, where the tall man forcibly made the clone sit in an uncomfortable chair. The clone watches as the figure takes several steps back before his attention shifts to the man who stared outside the window that overlooked the busy streets of a planet happily named Alus. Clearing his throat, the human male turned to face the clone and smirked. Hands in his pockets as he approached the desk that stood between the two men.

“So, you want to be a fighter,” The man asks, wearing only the finest silks. “Clone right….?” He asked as he tugged at his suit before sitting down behind the desk. “I only sponsor the best fighters and have yet to see you fight in a single match.” He leans back in his chair. The man smiles as the clone in front of him frowns.

The nameless clone sat in rags as his armor—which was once an identifier of who he was—was damaged beyond repair. Its gray paint that he had worn proudly during the Clone Wars had chipped away, revealing the faint color of red that he once wore before switching to gray, where dark outlines of paint once were. His hands roll into tight fists as his good eye fills with anger, before closing his eyes. Taking a breath as he tries to collect himself, not wanting to blow his only chance at getting some sense of purpose. Adjusting in his seat, he lets out a frustrated sigh before finding his voice, a voice that was cool and collected was heard.

“I’ll fight for free, you can keep the winning credits, and just give me enough to get shelter as well as some food,” The clone says in a smooth voice. “I’ll make you credits and then you'll see the worth of my strength.”

“Worth of your strength?” The man says in return, almost in a chuckle. “Weren’t you a clone of Jango Fett? A great bounty hunter that has ever lived?”

The clone nodded.

“Well, you might look like him, and I am sure you have nothing but that alone in common,” The man says as he reaches for the round ball of metal that had been floating above the platform it came with. “What’s your name again, clone?” He finishes as he plays with the ball.

“Wolffe.”

The man shook his head as he tried to hold back his laughter. “What a stupid name, then again you are a clone, as I half expected you to give me a number,” He chuckles before going on. “Fine, I accept your offer, Wolffe, and as your sponsor, you’ll know my name as Gaver.”

Wolffe sat still, a flash of relief ran across his face.

“Now, my good friend over there,” He gestures to the man behind Wolffe. “Will take you to your new home, I'll give you some credits to get some new armor and food,” Gaver says as he places the metal ball back on the platform it was hovering previously. “Your first match will be in a month, be ready for it.” And with that, Gaver dismissed Wolffe, who stood up from his chair and was gestured by the tall man to move.

A few weeks had passed since Wolffe had become a fighter, finding himself lying flat on his bed that barely fit his size. The alarm had gone off twenty minutes prior, and he was less than willing to get up, seeming less than motivated to do anything but lie in bed. Even so, he moves the blanket off his naked body as he sits on the edge of the mattress. His face is in his hands as he takes a moment to collect himself. The echos of war still ring in his mind as he rose from the bed, bare to the world. He reaches for the door handle that opens to the short hall, where the bathroom sits with a broken door that had been moved to the side, allowing him to enter the small bathroom.

Wolffe stood for a moment leaning on the door frame as the muscles that he had grown while in the military had disappeared slightly into a thinner appearance. Rubbing his head as he steps through the threshold, an attempt to wake himself up further he catches his appearance in the mirror. His long out-of-regulation hair, and a beard to match forced him to lean on the sink as he checked himself out in the semi-broken mirror. Where he leaned back with a ‘humph’, that settled his thoughts, grabbing the razor that sat on the sink next to the faucet that was rusted to hell. The razor hovers over the facial hair, before he switches to the scissors that were in the cabinet where the mirror sat attached, cutting hands full of hair before he took a razor to his face.

By the time he was done, he had patches of paper stuck to his face and his wrinkles were apparent. The man who stared back at him in the mirror was once a great Commander who had done the unthinkable to a man that he thought of highly—some would say he thought of him as a father figure—but that wasn’t the Commander now. No, he thought, thinking back to that moment when he shot down his General, and his actions following it. Shaking his head as he turns away from the broken mirror, swallowing the past as he reaches for the handle that turned on the water. Cursing himself for his choices as he stepped into the chilling water that made him shake.

Grabbing the cloth that he used after showers, he pulled out the gray jumpsuit that he found in his size and by chance on sale. First slipping on a gray tank top that was a shade lighter than the jumpsuit itself. Allowing him to zip up the suit to his hips, where he sits on the uncomfortable mattress. In silence, he suffers through the memories as his head falls into his hands again. Tears threatened to fall when the sudden sound of a knock filled the small apartment that was on the second level.

Standing up quickly he zipped up his suit, and headed down the short hall, through the living room which was also a kitchen. Where he took a deep breath before answering, opening the door, revealing a smiley woman, with bright blue eyes and a smile that made his heart skip a beat—if only for a moment. Her cheerful smile had made him shiver, as she held up something that smelled good to him. A simple ‘Go ahead!’ left her lips, which was a shade of blue he hadn’t seen before on the otherwise normal-looking human woman. Taking the basket from her hands he mumbled a simple ‘thank you’ that earned him another smile.

“I have seen you around, and thought you might like something, fresh!” The woman said with a cheerful tone that seemed a bit off.

“Thanks,” Wolffe was able to get out as he held the basket. “What’s your name?” He was blunt.

“Millia, Millia Grene, what about you?” She smiled, brushing back her blonde hair behind her ear.

Wolffe paused as he scanned her face one last time before saying. “People call me Wolffe, that’s all.”

Millia nodded, biting her bottom lip as she stood in the hall for a second too long for Wolffe.

“Did you want something?” Wolffe asked, his tone harsh and rough.

Millia’s eyes lit up but shook her head ‘no’ before answering. “See you later then, you can keep that basket, if you want!” Her cheerful voice caused him to grunt, before closing the door on her.

Her muffled words caused Wolffe to rest the basket on the counter, as a familiar voice filled his mind. Telling him that she was a sweet soul and he shouldn’t be so difficult with a woman who wanted nothing more—the voice assumed—than to be friendly. His left-hand rests on the edge of the counter with the other hand on his neck, as he grows tense. The last week or so had been hard to adjust to, having a decent place to sleep and a good amount of food to keep him going. But nothing brought back his brothers or the man he betrayed.

Returning to his room, he stands in front of the stand that held his armor, armor that he had been stripped of its color. His good eye lingers on the chest plate that he had allowed himself to paint a small wolf outline, but that was all he allowed himself to do. ‘Hey Commander!’ a voice called out, causing him to frown as its tone was that of Comet, ‘The general would like to see you on the bridge, sir.’ his voice fades as the memory dissipates into nothing. Standing still as he was brought back to reality, where his good eye lingered on the picture and his fingers rubbed the paint that was mostly black but the outlines of its eyes were a solid gray, a color he could barely afford. Pulling his hand away as his attention shifted to his black boots that sat just under the armor.

Tags: @n0vqni @daisies-daydreams @carodealmeida @rexxdjarin

#star wars #original character #original concept #the clone wars #romance #angst #commander wolffe #post clone wars #action #fight club

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snowywinterevenings · 2 years

Text

Whumptober WIP

So this one will be for Day 13: Are you here to break me out?

Featuring a much softer, not quite sithywan and a Cody who is completely over the war. It has also gotten a bit out of control so I’ll be posting it as the first chapter of its own fic and finishing it after whumptober.

“Hello there.”

Cody pauses outside of the cell, trying to make out the shape of the being who spoke to him from the shadows. Pale fingers curl around the bars and Cody can just barely make out the fact that the speaker is a man with messy ginger hair shot through with white and a beard that is just as unruly. He looks like he hasn’t seen the light in years, skin sallow and eyes edged with dark circles. He is too thin, his ragged clothes hanging off of him, and his eyes are the faint gold of the first rays of the morning sun.

He can do nothing but draw his blaster, making the man scramble back in terror, and he holds his hands up placating and soothing, not having thought about how his actions might look. “I’m just going to blow the lock off of the door. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cody does just as he explained, and the door comes open with a groan as though no one has opened it in years. The man steps out of the cell warily, watching Cody like he might change his mind and decide to attack him and shuffles back a step when Cody holds out his hand. Cody can see more of him now, painfully thin and clearly abused, and he hopes that the Jedi put Dooku in a grave just as Dooku and his army have put so many of Cody’s brothers in the ground.

“Let’s get you out of here. You can get cleaned up, and one of our medics can tend to your injuries. And we can get you a warm meal.”

Cody doesn’t know what they have that isn’t slop or ration bars, but he thinks those options might both be okay with the newly freed prisoner. The man doesn’t respond, instead holding up his hands, likely hoping that Cody will remove the cuffs he wears. His wrists are badly chafed beneath them, some spots raw and possibly infected, and Cody isn’t about to make him wait until they reach the medics to be free of the cuffs. Projecting his intention, he grasps the link between the cuffs and points his blaster down at it, carefully aiming at the floor where it will not hit either of them. The cuffs clatter away, and the man makes a sharp sound and sways into him, narrowly avoiding collapsing to the floor only because Cody gets hands around him.

“You feel like the sun. I haven’t felt the sun in so long.” He whispers the words and then goes limp in Cody’s arms, and Cody hefts him up, wincing at how light he feels for a human of his size.

He hands the man over to the medics when he gets outside, and he doesn’t think much about him while they complete their mission, freeing the few remaining prisoners and defeating Dooku and his droids. He feels satisfaction at the knowledge that Dooku opted against surrender, pleased that he has faced the same fate as so many of Cody’s brothers. There will be far feeer casualties moving forward, and if they are lucky, when the clean up is over, perhaps they will be granted citizenship and freedom.

He is staring out at the stars unable to sleep when the wraith of a man finds him, clad only in a hospital gown and draped in a thin sheet. He is still pale and battered, but he has showered, and his injuries have been tended. Cody wants to usher him back to medical, knows he should probably be hooked to half a dozen IVs, but he leans against the viewport with such a wistful expression, that Cody doesn’t dare to chase him back to bed.

“Thank you for freeing me. My apologies for fainting. It has been awhile since I have felt the Force, and it was a bit overwhelming to feel so much all at once.” Eyes dart to his, blue now instead of gold, and Cody wonders if it is a characteristic of his species or if it was simply a trick of the light.

“You’re a Jedi?”

The man shakes his head. “I was. I don’t know what I am now.” He has a soft, core worlds accent, though it sounds a bit raspy, likely from disuse.

“What do you want to be?” Cody doesn’t know what possesses him to ask the question. He doesn’t even know his name.

“Free,” is his whispered answer, and a tear tracks its way down his cheek, and that is a sentiment Cody understands. He has wanted nothing but freedom for himself and his brothers for months now.

The man sways when he moves to step away from the viewport, and Cody catches him again. He doesn’t protest when he scoops him up, instead tucking his head under his chin. He is asleep by the time Cody delivers him to Triage, and he lingers as they get him reattached to all of their machines. The screen closest to his bed lists his name as Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Cody commits it to his memory.

#codywan #my fics #whumptober2022 #whumptober #my wips #WIP

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gilded-garnet · 1 year

Text

In the Shadow of Grief

(Spoilers for Sebastian's quest line.)

Summary: In their 7th and final year of Hogwarts, Anne passes away. This is the aftermath.

Theme: Angst / WC: ~2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death & contains the F bomb.

Note: I am terrible at summaries. I really like to make these characters suffer, I've decided. As I'm not a huge fan of using Y/N when writing myself, I've used my MC's name, Ramona, in this one. Feel free to imagine it as whatever you'd like though!

---

"Ramona?"

Ramona looked up from her herbology assignment to the sound of her name. A young Hufflepuff - second or third year, she guessed - had approached where she sat in the common room, wearing a nervous expression.

She set down her quill and turned to face the girl.

"Yes? How can I help you -?"

"Sophia," the girl supplied, fiddling with the hem of her cloak nervously. "Um, I just wanted to let you know that there's a Slytherin boy outside asking for you. Well, demanding. He - he was quite beside himself."

Ramona's brow furrowed; there was only one person that could be.

"Alright. Thank you for telling me."

Sophia nodded and turned swiftly on her heel. Ramona scooped her quill and parchment into her bag and headed for the entrance of the common room, a nervous weight settling in the pit of her stomach. What could have Sebastian so worked up? He would usually just send an owl.

As the door to the common room opened, Sebastian spun frantically to look at her and she felt her heart clench. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess, his tie has been tugged loose, and his eyes were red and puffy.

"Sebastian, what -?"

He lunged forward, hands clasping her arms tightly to her side in a vice-like grip. She stumbled back, surprised.

"She's gone!"

His voice was broken and raw, and his brown eyes were full of desperation. He had clearly been crying.

She felt her heart drop through the floor. She knew what that meant. Since their uncle had died over a year ago, Anne has not relented in her resolve - she had not seen or spoken to Sebastian since.

The only contact Sebastian had had with her was through the limited snippets he could gather from Ominis, who was reluctant to divulge any details.

Still, Ominis had found it within himself to share with Sebastian that Anne had recently taken a turn for the worse, though refused to reveal her location.

"I won't betray her trust, Sebastian! Stop asking this of me. If she wants to be found, I will of course tell you."

"If she's getting worse, I need to see her!"

"No. I can't. I'm sorry."

He would not speak again on the matter.

Now, it was clear that Anne was never going to get better.

"What happened?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Sebastian crumbled, his head falling forward against her shoulder. His hands dropped from her arms.

"Ominis, he - he just told me. She - last night."

His voice kept breaking off, like he couldn't bring himself to say the words. As if speaking them would make them real.

She brought her arms up to wrap around him. Her heart was full of pain, for Anne, for Sebastian, for Ominis, for this whole mess.

"I am so sorry."

He brought his own arms up, clutching the back of her robe like a lifeline. His breathing was ragged.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." The words sounded small and childlike, muffled by her shoulder.

She didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. Nothing she could say would make this alright.

They stayed like that for a long moment. Then, he pulled away from her and the look on his face chilled her. He was furious.

"I won't ever forgive him for this." He spat, and she shuddered.

"Sebastian - "

"No!" He cut her off. "He knew. He knew how bad she was and he still didn't let me see her - let me see my sister as she was dying!" He was shouting now.

Ominis and Sebastian had been able to rebuild some of their friendship over the last year, but the fact that Ominis had access to Anne and refused to divulge her location would always prevent them from the easygoing rapport they once had.

Ramona, meanwhile, had grown closer to Ominis. He was calm and enjoyable company. He had appreciated her support in trying to dissuade Sebastian from the Dark Arts and they found that they had much in common besides. Out of respect, she had never pressed Ominis for Anne's whereabouts.

Now, it was clear that whatever good work had been done to repair Sebastian and Ominis' broken bond had been dramatically undone.

Sebastian had his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his knuckles white. Her mind was racing. She didn't know what to do.

"Now she's dead, and I am never going to see her again!" His voice broke at the end. He'd finally said it out loud.

She thought she'd seen him angry before, like when he callously called her 'ignorant' for trusting Lodgok, but that was nothing compared to his fury now.

"Please, don't do anything - "

He looked at her sharply. "What?"

His tone was icy, and she realised she'd said the wrong thing.

"Worried I'll go off the deep end again? Is that it?"

"No, that's not what I - "

"Save it." His voice was acid, and it burned her just the same.

At that moment, the common room door opened, causing them both to start. The boy that emerged took one glance between the two of them, clearly sensing the tension, and stopped in his tracks.

"Oh, actually, I - I just forgot something." He turned tail and headed back inside.

Ramona looked back at Sebastian. It was like a door had sealed shut behind his eyes. He was closing himself off from her, she realised. She felt a tightness forming in her chest, a writhing ball of anxiety.

"Don't do this." She hated how panicked she sounded.

"Do what?"

"Don't try to shoulder this alone."

His jaw tensed, and she could see the muscle dancing beneath his skin as he clenched his teeth. Finally, after what felt like eternity, he let out the breath he was holding.

"I can't just let this go." He then marched away from her without another word.

She stood frozen for a second, then ran back inside as quickly as she could, up the stairs to the dormitory and past a very startled Poppy Sweating. She seized a quill and piece of parchment from her bedside table and hastily scribbled:

Ominis,

Meet me in the Undercroft tonight, 10pm.

Urgent. We need to talk.

Ramona

She grabbed the nearest available owl and decided she would ask the owner for forgiveness later.

---

She checked her pocket watch - 9:57pm. She'd been pacing up and down the length of the Undercroft for half an hour. Every minute had dragged past at a snail's pace. Still, when the gate to the Undercroft finally creaked into life, she couldn't help but jump.

"Ramona?" Ominis' quiet voice broke the silence.

"It's me," she replied, walking towards him and wrapping her arms around him in a crushing embrace. He paused for a moment - hugs were not a frequent feature in their friendship - but returned the gesture. She pulled away after a few moments.

"Sebastian came to see me earlier about Anne. I'm - I'm so sorry Ominis, I know you were close."

Ominis flinched, leaning back against the cold stone wall for support. He looked even paler than usual and his brow was pinched with worry.

"I - I thought I was doing the right thing not letting him see her, honouring Anne's wishes, but..." he paused, his adam's apple bobbing with emotion.

"I've never felt worse. Merlin, even Crucio hurt less!" His voice was thick with regret. She noticed his wand hand was shaking.

"He'll never forgive me - I don't think I'll ever forgive myself. If I'd known she was - she was..." His legs seemed to give way and he slid to the floor, head bowed and shoulders shaking with emotion.

She dropped to the floor beside him, putting what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have known. You were in an impossible situation, Ominis."

He brought a hand up to grasp hers. "Sebastian is never going to see his sister again, and I'm to blame for it."

Ramona felt an unexpected rush of anger at his words. "You are NOT to blame. You didn't curse Anne and you certainly didn't make Sebastian cast that killing curse!"

"I - I know, but..."

"No buts. You did what you could. It's all any of us can do."

There was a long pause.

"I miss her," he said in a small voice, and it broke her heart.

"I know."

She sat against the wall next to him, and they let their tears fall together in silence.

---

It had taken several days, but she had finally tracked Sebastian down. In hindight, it was the one place she really ought to have looked first.

She stood outside the door to the Feldcroft residence for much too long, a multitude of scenarios running through her head before she told herself to get a grip and stop stalling.

Steeling herself, she pushed the door, thankful that it was already unlocked. As she had guessed he would be, Sebastian was sat at the table, his back to her. He did not react when she entered.

She stepped further into the room. "Sebastian?"

No response. Undeterred, she continued forward, eventually settling slowly into the chair next to him. His eyes were trained on a note in his hands and he didn't look at her.

Her insides curled in discomfort at what she was about to say, worried at his response, but her meeting with Ominis had instilled her with resolve. She could not let Sebastian punish Ominis any more than he was already doing himself. It wasn't fair.

She broke the silence, speaking in an understanding tone. "I know you're angry and hurting, but Ominis is not to blame for what happened."

Still no response. She cleared her throat and continued, with more insistence. "He's already punishing himself enough. It's not his fault."

"I know."

"And - what?" She broke off, stunned to hear him speak, much less agree with her. His voice was rough with lack of use.

"This was the last thing she wrote to me," he said, changing the subject, his voice flat.

She leant over to read it, one eye on Sebastian in case he objected. He didn't, so she continued. It read:

Sebastian,

Too much has happened. I need to get away from here for a while.

I miss uncle Solomon.

I will always love you, but I'm not sure I can ever forgive you.

Anne

"I just can't believe this is it," he said, but there was nothing behind the words.

All the fight and anger seemed to have drained away. He looked completely hollow. Somehow, she found this even more upsetting than his sadness or his ire. Sebastian was always alive with emotion - good or bad. This shell sitting in front of her was unrecognisable.

She reached out a hand and wrapped it around his wrist. His skin was cold.

"She loved you. You know that much, at least." She gripped his wrist tighter, willing him to react.

Finally, he looked at her, and she was immensely relieved to see a spark of something in his eyes. His lip curled and his hands clenched around the note, creasing the paper.

"What kind of brother am I? I couldn't do anything when our parents died, I couldn't do anything to protect Anne, or help her, and I managed to ruin our relationship so badly that she couldn't stand the sight of me - even at the end. I am so fucking useless, I can't stand it!" His voice dripped with self-loathing.

She felt herself getting angry again, the same anger she felt in the Undercroft. "You can't blame yourself for something that happened when you were five years old, and there was no way of knowing what would happen to Anne. Stop punishing yourself for things outside of your control."

He looked down at the note again, his voice adopting a bitter edge. "You know, sometimes I wish you'd both thrown me in Azkaban. Maybe then I would have been given the Dementor's kiss and I wouldn't have had to care."

"Alright, that's enough!" She almost shouted, standing suddenly and slamming her hands down on the table. He looked up at her, mouth falling open in surprise.

"What happened to Anne, and to you, is horrible and unfair and I am truly sorry. But -" she put her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes to hers, " - I don't want you to ever wish for that."

She had witnessed first hand what Azkaban could do to a person, watched Anne Thisbe driven mad and babbling on the floor of her cell. The thought of Sebastian in the same position made her throat tight. He blinked up at her, clearly shocked by her sudden intensity.

She continued. "You also made a mistake. Anne wanted you to live with it, didn't she? Why should you get to take the easy way out?"

There was a long pause and she wondered if she may have overstepped. Then, his fingers slowly curled around hers, bringing her hands down to rest against his lips.

"As always, you're right." His breath fanned across her knuckles, making her shiver. "I have no right to ask for pity. It's just, knowing that she never forgave me - that she never will forgive me - it hurts. It really fucking hurts."

She returned to her seat, keeping her hands in his and leaning forwards, voice soft. "I meant what I said before. You don't have to shoulder this alone. I care about you. Ominis cares about you. Let us face it together."

He winced when she said Ominis' name, and she was about to rush to his defence when Sebastian's fingers tightened on hers in a gentle warning. "Just - just give me some time, ok?"

She nodded. "Will you come back with me?"

He cast his eyes around the room. "I suppose there's nothing really here for me anymore," he said, his voice somber. He released her hands to carefully fold Anne's note and tuck it into the front of his blazer.

He pushed himself to his feet and surprised her by taking her hand again as she did the same, locking their fingers together.

"Thank you, by the way." He said. "Have I ever told you that I am exceptionally glad that you came to Hogwarts?"

"You may have mentioned it once or twice."

"Well, it's true. You'll have to give me the chance to save you sometime."

She managed a small smile, happy to have a tiny slither of her Sebastian back, however fleeting. Even if his tight-lipped smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"The next time I require a gallant knight, I shall let you know."

As they left Feldcroft behind, she didn't know what lay ahead, but she knew they would face it together.

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