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foreverdolly · 1 month

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization:

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died.

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this?

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion.

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room.

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters.

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.”

There it was. The truth.

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield.

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong.

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety.

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

It was a guard.

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this.

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls.

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground.

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat.

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned.

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you.

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you.

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in.

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged.

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you.

And so they did.

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades.

He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length.

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing.

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . .

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent.

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face.

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.”

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on.

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust.

He had to pay for what he did to you.

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault.

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway.

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt?

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway.

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start.

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead.

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all.

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely.

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore.

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head.

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved.

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out.

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you.

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you.

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood.

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide.

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin.

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell.

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck.

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again?

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences.

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone.

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation.

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you.

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power.

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.”

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was.

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night.

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.”

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved.

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?”

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides.

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub.

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs.

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again.

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep.

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would.

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now.

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now.

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly.

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this.

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.”

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd.

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-”

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated.

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would.

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump.

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in.

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin.

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off.

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

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thefireintheshadow · 2 months

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He’d done it. He’d gotten his mending book.

[authors note: this seems like a cute little fic about grian and his mending book but it is in fact a dark mafia fic jsyk…]

Grian couldn’t believe it had finally happened. It was so surreal that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He went through the motions of cleaning himself up. It felt good to shave, see some color on his cheeks. Even his eyes were brighter.

When he returned to the dock to clean up all of his fishing gear, there was a silhouette in the setting sun. He couldn’t make out who it was, a broad frame almost haloed in glittering red.

“Hello, Grian.”

He squinted. “Beef?” As he grew closer, he could make out the source of the glittering, a suit that appeared to be crafted from salmon scales. “Wow.”

“Been doing a lot of fishing lately?” Beef asked, running a hand up one of the pillars of the little hut.

Something felt off in Grian’s gut. Something in his friend’s tone felt…predatory. It couldn’t be. This was Beef. He was one of the sweetest guys around. “You could say that,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “But I’m all good now, got my mending book.”

“Is that so?” Beef cocked a brow, and stuck both hands in his pockets, as if on a casual stroll. Something in his gait screamed danger, though, and was this just too much time spent in death games? Was this overflow from Secret Life and Demise and—

Beef stopped on the block over Grian’s storage room. No.

“Why don’t you come on downstairs?” Beef asked, but it was hardly a request. “Because somehow I don’t think you’re all good.”

He pulled out a handful of seeds and composted them, disappearing through the floor.

Grian’s pulse thundered in his ears. What the hell was going on? How did Beef find out about his secret area? And what the hell was up with that suit? His head spun.

On the surface this would look like a fun prank. A bit.

But it didn’t feel like a bit. It didn’t feel fun.

He didn’t want to go down there.

But something told him he needed to, some instinct buried deep. Though surely Beef just wanted to make a deal for something in the chests down there, right?

Heart hammering, he composted and dropped down.

But there was nobody there. His guts twisted. Beef meant down downstairs. This was getting weirder and weirder, and that sense of danger felt sharper and heavier.

He dropped down into the cave and his heart ceased to work.

He couldn’t quite register at first the tableau in front of him. His gaze zeroed in on Mumbo’s face, beautiful skin marred by blood and tears.

“Grian! They’ve gone-” Mumbo cried, but his words choked off on a scream as a sickening snap echoed and suddenly time seemed to stop.

Grian’s ears buzzed, as if no other senses other than his sight were capable of working at a time. Mumbo was on his knees, hands behind his back, face twisted in pain. Skizz stood behind him, muscled arms gleaming as he took the kneeling man’s disheveled hair in one of his fists.

Skizz didn’t look quite right, though. His eyes were too big, almost bulbous, and too far apart. His face shone with what Grian had at first thought was sweat, but no, it was as if his skin were made of…scales? And nowhere was that soft, sweet, fun-loving Skizz energy. He looked maniacal. A maniacal, half-mutated fish man.

And Beef. Beef in his salmon-scaled suit, still cool as a cucumber, hands in his pockets, watching the scene with detachment.

Grian sucked in a deep, ragged breath as his lungs screamed for air, and time seemed to start again, his brain somehow catching up with the fact that he couldn’t just watch the scene forever.

“Walk with me, Grian,” Beef said, strolling towards the redstone door.

“No!” Grian cried, his entire body quivering. “What are you doing to Mumbo? Skizz!” He took a step forward, but in a flash, Skizz jerked Mumbo’s head back, exposing the tender flesh of his throat, and pressed a glittering diamond sword against it.

“I already broke his wrist, want another lesson?” he warned, and something was wrong with his voice, it sounded so distorted.

“My associate here will take good care of Mumbo,” Beef said as the door opened. “I’d like you to show me this room.”

Grian swallowed hard, staring at Mumbo with desperate eyes, the man he cared about most in this world, the man he’d do anything for. Somehow, somehow he’d fucked up and now Mumbo was in pain and there was fucking nothing he could do. Why hadn’t he brought any weapons down here? Why hadn’t he acted on his instincts up there…god.

A drop of crimson beaded on Mumbo’s throat, and he hissed in pain.

“You’d better go, your little friend has thin skin,” Skizz warned gleefully.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Grian said, forcing his feet to move, one in front of the other, towards Beef, towards the door…away from Mumbo. “Please stop hurting him.” The words came out so disgustingly weak sounding, and he hated it. He wanted to press his thumbs into Skizz’s mutant eyes until they popped out of his fucking head, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

Skizz lowered the sword at least, and Grian scurried after Beef into the manifest room.

“Tell me about this,” Beef said once the door closed behind them, spreading his arms.

“It’s my…my manifesting mending room,” Grian said, and it sounded so stupid now. He had to admit he’d gone a little batshit with all of that fishing, with his obsession. What did this have to do with Beef and Skizz, though?

Beef pursed his lips, shaking his head. “It looks to me like a cod-worshipping room,” he said.

Grian’s blood rushed through his ears. Was this what this was all about? Types of fish? “No, they were just, easier to build statues of,” he insisted. “The color palette-”

“I don’t believe you,” Beef snarled, and his blazing anger was so jarring after being calm for the entire exchange. “Big Cod is trying to get a foothold here and my employer is not going to let that happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Grian asked, head spinning. “This is literally just for me, you can see my painting at the other end-”

“I saw the painting,” Beef interrupted, turning his back, clasping his hands there, walking down the platform to look at the painting in question. “Quite an expensive piece, for a fisherman.”

Grian scrubbed his hands down his face. “Well I’m not just a fisherman-”

“No, you’re not,” Beef said, whirling on his heel. “You know, my original thought when I was tasked with eliminating the cod threat was just to blow this whole thing to hell with you inside it.” He raised a finger. “But I thought, no need to make such a mess. I think I can bring you to heel with the right motivation.”

As if in cue, the redstone door opened, and Skizz dragged Mumbo in, shoving him back to his knees. His nose was freshly bleeding, and he looked about to collapse completely.

“Beef, please, whatever you think this is, it’s not,” Grian begged, whirling back towards him. “I swear I don’t know anything about…big cod-I just-”

There was a thump and Mumbo groaned.

Grian whirled again as Skizz pressed his boot against the man’s back, shoving him into the floor.

“Stop hurting him!” Grian cried, turning back to Beef. “Please, what do you need me to do? Just stop hurting him!”

Beef reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar – since when did he smoke? – and flicked a zippo, taking his time lighting it evenly. He puffed, then tossed the zippo over his shoulder, landing it neatly at the bottom of the painting.

It went up quickly. Grian watched the flames, swallowing hard. He was happy to trade the painting for Mumbo’s safety, but it was still hard to watch it go up like that.

“Since you have your mending book, you won’t be needing that anymore,” Beef said, smoke trailing as he strolled up the walkway, free hand back in his pocket. “And since you’re certainly not working for Big Cod, you won’t need this room anymore. Dismantle it. Destroy it.” He pointed at Grian, cigar smoldering between his fingers. “I will be checking. And you don’t want to have this meeting again, do you? Who could I motivate you with next? Gem? Or how about Scar?”

Grian shook his head vigorously. “No, you don’t have to motivate me, I’ll do it.” He took a step back. “Please, just let Mumbo go and I’ll do it right now.”

Beef patted him on the cheek, chuckling as the sickly-sweet smoke made him cringe. “Yes you will,” he said, and stalked past him, snapping his fingers on his way by Skizz. “Kill him.”

Grian screamed, launching himself towards them, but he was too late, Skizz stabbed Mumbo through the back of the skull and Grian landed on the hard floor, next to the bundle of bloodied ropes left behind.

“I don’t want to see your face on the surface until it’s done,” Beef said as Skizz crossed the threshold. “Or else.”

The door closed, leaving Grian alone and sobbing on the floor.

[read on ao3]

#I couldn’t help it #hermitshipping #grumbo #hermitblr #hermitcraft #brainrot #fanfic #hermitcraft fanfic #grumbo fanfic #big salmon #big salmon fanfic #ao3 #dark fanfic #dark salmon #salmon mafia #what are these tags idk

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bipp-bopp-time-to-stop · 26 days

Text

Kaleidoscope

I finally got Four's spotlight fic done. To be honest, he's one of the harder characters for me to write given that I just don't know much about him (game wise) and that handling the Colors can sometimes be rather complex. Still, I did my best to portray our favorite littlest man of the Chain. I hope you all enjoy!

TW: Yandere themes, Neglect, Mental Breakdown (Four), Talk of/ descriptions of blood and gore, Use of brightly colored text, All is Not Okay in Fourville

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It was secret to none that Four was picky and rather strict when it came to handling weapons and armor. While the usual victim of his scolding was Wild and his reckless use of his equipment, he wasn’t afraid to chew out anyone else. Plus, he wanted to make sure for himself that the tools and weapons at the group’s disposal were in tip-top shape. Besides, daily maintenance was something he could do blindfolded.

So, when Time came over to poke around at what he had in his bags, Four was instinctually on edge. He knew well that Time wouldn’t abuse the weapons he had stored away, but he knew the purpose for his perusal.

“Do you have anything blunt? Like a mace or hammer? Warhammer, even? Anything that’s a spare will do, honestly…” Time finally questions as he looks the little smithy in the eye. Four lifts the sword he had been sharpening off of the grindstone before him and puts it to the side to show Time that he’s listening and thinking. After tapping on his chin for a bit, Four slowly nods.

“I have a mace and a warhammer. Both need some fixing up, though. So our… newest arrival will have to wait a few days before they can be armed,” Four answers. His eyes flicker over to the other side of the camp where you, along with a few others, were “training”. Wars and Sky were trying to take it more seriously; one was beside you to help adjust your… everything, really, and the other was your sparring partner. The rest that were huddled around were smiling and laughing at just how clunky you were with a sword in hand. It seemed like you were out to prove that people could have two left hands rather than feet.

“Whatever you can get will work. They may not have finesse, but they do have an arm. I suppose they’ll just have to loot weapons from monsters for the moment. Or see if they can get Wild to fess up any bokoblin clubs,” Time tutted while also watching the scene. Four nodded and hummed in agreement before swifty going back to what he had been doing. Time left to go supervise the rest to make sure no one was getting too rowdy and Four was now left by himself. Well, selves.

“I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them! And with how big they are, I couldn’t do it far!”

“I can’t really tell what to make of them. Everything they’ve told us about who and what they are seems genuine…”

“Let’s not put much faith in them at the moment. They’re no Hero of Courage, they barely know how to protect themselves, and their whole presence here is accidental. They’ll undoubtedly either split from the group, find their own way back home, or die.”

“Do we have to be so harsh on them? Even in the face of our judgements, they’ve still been kind and understanding!”

Safe to say that Four was, and would easily remain, uncertain of your presence. Experience told him that the nicest faces and friendliest smiles could still put a knife in your back. A part of him- a very small part, he had to emphasize, wanted to believe that you were truly genuine. Whether or not you were or were just putting on a convincing act, Four was ready to respond how he deemed just.

“Hey! Uh, Four, right? Time said that you may have some weapons for me to use?” You spoke up as you approached the little smithy. He was perplexed as to why Time had sent you over when Four had just told him the weapons wouldn’t be ready at the moment. Given how the oldest member was currently talking with the rest of the group about something he couldn’t make out, Four surmised that it was his turn to watch you.

“Give me a moment to get them. They aren’t in the best shape right now, but you can at least give them a few test swings,” Four finally responded. He got up to go dig through his supply of spare weapons to find the aforementioned mace and warhammer. They weren’t hard to find as their state was an absolute eye sore. The metal heads of the weapons were rusted over and the leather strapping on the mace’s handle was coming undone. There were some noticeable splinters along the wooden body of the warhammer- to the point he may have to ask Sky in helping him create a new one. Their sorry states were enough to embarrass Four. Spare weapons or not, this was unacceptable!

“Oh, uhm… I can come back for them later. I don’t want to break them,” You mutter and give Four a sheepish smile. It only makes the deepening blush of embarrassment on his face worse.

“You can give them a few swings, at least,” Four allows although he knows well it’s not a good idea. It’s clear that you know it too due to your hesitance, but you don’t let it stop you from picking up the warhammer first. Due to its splintering body, its impossible to wield it properly without gloves to protect your hands. As such, you only get a few swings out of it before it slips from your grip and lands on the ground with a thud.

“Okay, uhm… sorry…” You mumble before picking up the mace to try instead. Whereas it may have been a sizeable mace in the hands of a Hylian, it seemed far more normal sized in your hands. Based on your nearly white knuckles as you gripped the mace, you didn’t plan on letting it slip from your grip this time. Four still made sure to give you your room.

As you swung around the mace, it was clear to Four that Time hadn’t lied about your arm. Even if you said you had lived a rather quiet and mundane life beforehand, it was obvious your human genetics were on your side. With enough training, Four could see you trading blows between a Gerudo or a Goron.

With a cry, pop, and then another thunk, the head of the mace was on the ground. The spiked ball of metal had luckily landed far from anything delicate. Before Four could say or do anything, you nearly thrusted the mace’s handle into his hands before taking off. In your eyes, you had just broken two weapons in the span of a minute and most likely thought that Four was angry with you- livid, even. Four was upset, yes, but far more at himself for his neglect than anything else.

Thus, Four began to get both weapons back into tip-top shape over the course of the next few days. Despite their sorry state, it wasn’t like he was having to forge a new weapon. The metal just needed some polish and refining, the wooden rods of the body needed to either be resanded or replaced, and the leather wrapping of the handles needed to be redone. With skilled hands, and some help, the mace and warhammer were nearly as good as new before the week was over with.

When you had been given the weapons, you didn’t act how Four expected you to. Typically, when someone was given a new weapon, it had about the same effect as getting a new tool. That’s really what weapons were- tools.

But you acted like a child finally getting the toy they’ve been wanting for ages. You smiled and laughed as you swung around the fresh steel like it weighed nothing. Your joy was infectious as a few others helped set up makeshift targets for you to smash or even tried their hand at sparring with you now armed with a weapon you could handle. It was a refreshing sight to see- to know he had made someone so happy.

It was that night, Four believed, that everything changed for him.

He didn’t notice it at first. He had begun to have your two weapons fixed up first before anything else. He had excused it as being efficient as you had nothing else in your arsenal besides the two weapons. Plus, they regularly received a heavy beating and Four needed to make sure that they weren’t about to break in the middle of battle.

As you began to handle battle and training better and better, Four began to think more and more about getting you a better mace. It was your preferred choice of weapon as having a free hand in battle was useful. Rather than a replacement, maybe he could get you a different style of mace instead? Maybe see how you’d handle a ball and chain?

It was when Four got a good look at your hands one night did his plans change.

You sought him out to pick up your weapons and then be on your way. Illuminated by candlelight did Four see how quickly your skin had calloused and scarred. They were the hands of a fighter, sure, but they’d quickly grow pained and stiff if they weren’t taken care of. Something Warriors and Hyrule were likely already chiding you for, but Four knew of something that could help out. Something that only he could provide as far as he was concerned. Not like he’d let you be serviced by any other blacksmith or get near that sleazy merchant friend of Legend for equipment.

Thus, Four began to work on a fresh set of armor. It had originally started out as nothing more than brainstorming up a pair of gauntlets, but it’d be wrong not to have the whole set.

While most of the boys preferred leather armor with a layer of chainmail beneath it, Four felt like something more robust was in order. You were big and strong without a doubt, yes. While you easily outclassed any typical Hylian in that regard, you weren’t as nimble on your feet as it took time for you to accelerate into a full sprint or scale a ledge. Leather or chainmail didn’t fit you in the eyes of Four’s mind, but full plate certainly did. Why worry about having to dodge if the enemy couldn’t even get past your armor, after all.

He knew it would be a momentous task to fulfill given that he didn’t have access to a ready forge every day. Still, Four was determined. “If there’s a will, there’s a way” the saying goes. And oh does Four find himself willing when it comes to you.

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking when it was finally time to start the measurements. For days and nights on end did he brainstorm your armor. From its design to how it’d be forged, it all had to be perfect. He was too young and too early on in his craft to already be creating a magnum opus but dammit he would just for you only ever for you.

Measuring the dimensions of your hands was the only easy part of this for Four. Even though hands were a complex shape to work with, that wasn’t exactly the part that had Four jittery. No, Four had to brace himself for touching you anywhere else. The arms were fine as well and the shoulders… sort of were. But… then he got to your neck and he really tried not to stare at the way your throat bobbed up and down as you swallowed or how his eyes followed the tiniest drop of sweat as it ran down your skin and along the line of your collar bone. The skin was mostly untouched and unblemished so what would it look like if it was littered with kisses and love bites and licks and-

Four shakes his head and you give him a raised brow but say nothing. He moves past your neck and his hands are quick as lighting to get your chest done and over with. Then it was time to deal with your abdomen and he couldn’t help but let his hands linger there for a bit. It’d be a crime not to, really- you’ve done well to hone in your build and the effort shows. The lines of the abs are gentle and subtle thanks to the soft plush of fat Wild is keen on you keeping. Four can recall many nights where he used the expanse of your midsection as a pillow. When you were dead asleep and he couldn’t get a wink, kneading the flesh beneath his hands was a welcome sleep aid. There were also night when he wondered how the flesh would twitch as hands ran down them or even jiggle like it did in his fantasies where he-

Four nearly has to slap a hand across his face to shut Vio up. He plays it off the best he can by carding a hand through his hair. He hunches over a little bit to get a better angle of your lower body since you were kind enough to sit down for him. He got the measuring tape ready and began to take in the size of you thighs and he really, really had to not focus on the fact that his hands were all over your thighs. He can’t blame anyone but himself for this torture as he told you he needed you to strip to your undergarments to get an accurate measurement. He’s just doing his job, nothing more! A-And if he happens to squeeze your thigh here and there its not like he means to! And he really, really has to not think about what the sheer strength they contained would do to, say, a hydromelon or a pumpkin or maybe… someone’s head. Or… or how they would clamp down on his head like a vice if he were to-

“Uh, Four? You okay bud?” You call out. Four startles and looks up at you with wide eyes. Your expression has gone from perplexed to concerned and you were even reaching your hand out to the little man to ground him. Four gulps and winces at how dry his throat was but he didn’t feel like going off to get a drink of water not like he needed to when one was right in front of him.

“F-Fine. I’m… I’m fine,” Four lies through his teeth. It was the most obvious lie he feels like he’s ever told, but you don’t press him on it. You let him continue on and he is fine. He’s fine finishing up the measurements on your thighs and he’s fine with finishing up your calves. And he is fine when he get to your feet. He is perfectly fine- the epitome of fine-ness. So what if your feet are too? It’s not like he’s some weirdo, you just have nice feet! But not like that, you- you crazy! They’re strong and have carried you well in life! Did he mention that they’re strong- like, really strong? Strong enough that he’s watched them, even clad in nothing more than leather boots, stomp in the head of a bokoblin. O-Or that one time that you managed to subdue a group of bandits with a few of his sword brothers and forced their leader to kneel by planting the heel of your foot between their shoulders. Goddesses, he has to admit that that was one of the hottest things he’s ever witness- especially with how you berated the pigs like dirt beneath your boot, which they were. He can’t recall a time in his life where he’s been so simultaneously surprised, spooked, and horn-

“And done! Y-You’re free to go and get dressed and I’ll go do what I need to do!” Four announced as he stood straight up like an arrow. The action startles you and raises your brows to your hairline, but Four is gone and out of sight before you can even open your mouth. Rather than thinking about the smith’s strange actions, it’d be easier on the mind to just go about your business as planned.

The days pass by but with a distinct lack of Four. Not that he was missing from the group, but it was clear he had chose to distance himself. It was worrisome at first but when he threatened to cave in Wild’s skull should he try to tear him away from his work again, it was decided that he sooner needed his space more than anything.

Crafting your armor was something that quickly consumed Four’s mind. He had to get it done as soon as possible but he couldn’t let it be a botch job. If it was a botch job, you wouldn’t like it. If it was a botch job, it could sooner harm you more than help. If it was a botch job, then Four might as well be handing the others a golden opportunity to woo you.

Yet his absence also meant that they had more time with you than he did. It ate him up inside to see others always next to you or doing something he could easily do for you. Were it not for Vio and Green’s combined patience, then he’s sure he would have gone ballistic by day three.

Slow and steady wins the race. When the armor would finally be finished, he’d be there for every buckle you fastened and every strap you adjusted. He’d be there for the first steps you took while covered in steel and for every battle from then forward. No matter how many scratches or dings the armor may get in it, it’d be top priority above anything else to get it fixed back up.

His brothers could tire themselves out and make his life a lot easier when it was time for him to shine. He would sit by and let the lot of them buzz around you like fruit flies to honey. If he presented himself as lesser competition, then they’d sooner focus on one-upping each other even more. He could observe their tactics and strategies at a distance while he kept his cards to himself. And when it would be time for him to strike, he’d tear through the competition like it was nothing.

He didn’t mind, let alone care, about how he had to get resources. If he had to buy his metals from merchants and haggle about the price for an hour, so be it. If he had to venture out into the wilderness to source his own ore or hide, he’d do it. Even if he had to steal or pull what he needed from the bodies of his slain enemies, he didn’t care. If it all resulted in him getting your armor finished and receiving your love and praise sooner, he’d do it all.

Despite now constantly working himself to the bone, he still needed breaks- and to treat himself whenever he made good progress for the day. Nowadays, you were rarely allowed to do night shifts in guarding the camp. Four would watch you like a hawk as you slowly sunk deeper and deeper into sleep. When he was sure you were fast asleep and whoever was on shift wasn’t looking, he’d shrink himself down, down, down until he was the same size of a Minish. He’d scurry over to you and carefully scale your sleeping body until he was sat on your chest. He’d put his ear to your sternum and listen to the steady and solid beat of your heart. And, if he was feeling a bit cheeky or had to hide or maybe just cold, he didn’t mind crawling beneath your shirt for the night.

The days led to weeks and then the weeks to nearly two months. Two months, Four had toiled away on this armor as if his life depended on it. It may not have, but his future and happily ever after did. Were it not for the endeavors of you and his brothers, he’d have worked himself to the pits of neglect and more. Still, it wasn’t a far off statement to say that he’d seen better days.

But that didn’t matter right now! Finally, finally, his work was finished. Every buckle and strap of the armor was secure and every plate was as polished as a mirror. It was practical and protective but it didn’t lack in any ornate fashion either. Truthfully, the set sooner looked like it had been forged by a royal blacksmith. Now, he just had to present it to you!

“Hmm? Ah, Four! There… you are? Four, bud, what’s in your hands- are you okay?” You questioned as the smithy stumbled walked over. His usually straight golden bob of hair was messy and tangled with soot. His face bore a shaky and unsteady smile like he was ready to either crash right then and there which he was or go mental that too. Your obvious concern over him was something Four may have relished earlier, but it wasn’t important in light of his accomplishment.

“Look! I… I got yyyyyyyyooooourrr armor finishhhed,” Four slurred. His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth and his arms were as steady as gelatin as he presented you the cuirass of your armor. You snatch the armor away from him and Four’s elation only lasts a moment when he sees just how upset you were. You… you didn’t like it?

“Four, buddy, look at you! By the goddesses- I knew you were overexerting yourself for the past few days but I didn’t think it was like this! Y-You’re filthy! Gods, when was the last time you ate something more than fruit or nuts?!” You fretted as you began to check over Four. Your worries were but static in his ears as Four focused on the now discarded cuirass. It laid on the ground like trash. Was that what you thought of his work? Trash? Was that what you thought of him?

“You… don’t… like… it?” Four whispers out as his eyes remain laser focused on the armor piece. The ever twisting and bright colors of his eyes were dull and stagnant. You groan- growl, even- and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“The armor is cool and all Four, but I could care less about it right now. Look at you- look at the state you’re in! I need to get you to help fast,” You whine. Your tone was dismissive and your words were so choppy when referring to the armor. Golden Three, you… you really didn’t like the armor. You must hate it! You must hate him!

“Why… what… am I doing wrong?” Four sobs out as he falls to his knees. He crumbles like a wet paper towel and is little more than a sobbing, snotty mess on the ground in seconds. “What am I doing wrong?!”

“Whoa-kay there, Four. L-Let’s calm down, okay? You’re not feeling well right now and it’s making you feel sick and bad about yourself,” You hush and reach out to soothe him. He grabs your hands with a bone-crushing grip you think not even Twilight was capable of as Four looked up at you. It was a look you’ve never seen before- and a look you’d never want to see again. It was pained, crazed, violent, and insane. His eyes threatened to bulge from his head as his lips formed a dangerous smile- like a snarling animal.

“Tell me- TELL ME! WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!” Four demands. It’s scary to see him so out of control. You expected to see his eyes alight with blue but every color in them was perfectly proportioned. This cry for an answer was from all of him.

“Four, that’s enough! You’re starting to scare me,” You admit as you try to break free from him without hurting him.

“Scared? You, scared? You’re not the one scared, I am! I put blood, sweat, and tears into your armor and you throw it to the ground! Two months of painstaking work- work that bled into every ounce of my time is just… chucked aside!” Four yells and doesn’t let up.

“Four, please-”

“Is it not the style you wanted? Did you want it embellished with gold? Embedded with jewels?! Tell me, dammit, tell me!”

“Will you shut up about the armor?!” You finally scream back. Being gentle wasn’t working, so the only choice in the panic of the moment was to yell right back at him. “It’s not the armor I’m angry about, Four. It’s you.”

“Me…? I’m… I’m the problem?” Four mutters out as he seems to loose all the color in his skin. You grimace and realize the very poor choice of words that had just left your mouth.”

“Shit- Four, I don’t mean it like that. I’m angry with you, yes, but it’s not about you! It’s about your actions and-”

“I’m… the problem. I’m the problem. You hate… me. You hate me. You hate me!”

“No, Four, I don’t-”

“What do I need to change?!” Four howls as he throws himself at you. He latches on like some sort of stubborn parasite. He’s practically yelling in your ear as he hounds you for answers. “Well?! TELL ME! Do you not want to be seen with a blacksmith?! I-I can change careers! It’s not too late to learn something like carpentry or-or tailoring. Hell, I can learn those skills from Sky and Legend! Please, tell me what you want me to be! I’ll do it- I’ll do it all! I can prove that I’m better! I am better! Whatever it takes for you to love me and be with me, I will do it!”

“Four, are you even listening to yourself?!”

“I hear myself loud and clear, (Name)! Loud and clear! Maybe it’s all this time we’ve spent apart- yes, that’s it! I’ve barely been around you for two months while my brothers practically did everything they could to be by your side! You haven’t had time to know me, but I can fix that! I can make up for all of that lost time in so many ways! I can take you to where I grew up, I can take you to meet my grandfather- I can even have you properly meet the Minish! That sounds like a good first date, right?!”

“Fucking hell, what the fuck? I can’t do this-”

“Not into classical romance? That’s fine- perfectly okay, in fact! I’m nothing but charged nerves right now, so why don’t we go off and just kill some things?! Monsters or bandits, it doesn’t matter! Watching them fall to our blades, cowering at the sight of our blood soaked figures- it’ll be great! Plus you look absolutely amazing when you’re caving someone’s skull in, have I ever told you that? Your focus, your intensity, and your strength? Goddesses, even I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be turned into muck and mush by you!”

“TIME! TWILIGHT! WARS! FUCKING ANYBODY!-”

“NO! NO! You DO NOT call out to them! You just need me- you’ll only ever need me! I can do so many things that they can’t- I’ll prove it! I’ll spend every waking moment of the rest of my life to prove it, (Name)! I cannot be without you and I’ll prove that you cannot be without me! I love you, (Name). Heart, body, and soul- I love you. Just say it back, (Name). Say that you love me- say it! Tell me that you cannot live without me! Show to me that under all of your walls and layers that you are just as depraved as me and everyone else! Say it! SAY IT!”

THUNK!

Four’s body sags down before flopping over onto his side. In his fleeting vision, he can see your eyes ablaze with nothing short of raw terror. Tears he hadn’t noticed before streamed down your cheeks as your body shook like a leaf in the wind. Four barely caught the sight of large arms reaching for you before he finally blacked out.

~~~

When Four came to, he half expected to either be a specter floating above his corpse or waking up in his bed to find that everything had just been a dream. What he didn’t expect, though, was to find himself being slowly cascaded in water. In fact, most of his body was submerged in bubbly water that was pleasantly warm. Fatigue still hung heavy in Four’s bones and the relaxing water to the pleasant smell of sage and lavender in the air made it tempting to fall back asleep.

“Don’t you even think about falling asleep on me, mister. Not after what you did,” a voice croaks out from beside him. It takes Four a moment to register that it’s you and gosh do you look like you’ve been through Hell. No offense, but it was one of the worser states the young man had seen you in.

Four’s head aches and throbs as the mother of all headaches grapples him. He whines- it’s all he feels he has the strength to do. You don’t bother to massage his temples as you’re still busy washing his body. He’d derive pleasure from the action were it not for the terrible headache and the looming sense of unease in the room.

It was clear to Four that he had done something. He vaguely remembered confronting you about… something. The most vivid part of the memory was the agony and fear etched into your face before the blurry memory ended. Regardless of what happened, he knew he was going to get chewed a new one by every one of his brothers when they got the chance.

“I’m.. not mad about the armor. It’s a beautiful set, really,” you mutter and Four’s gaze flickers over to you in surprise. The armor? What about the armor? Oh, that’s right! He finished it! He must have given it to you then but it sounds like something went wrong.

“Then… what are… you mad at?” Four whispered out. Gods, his throat hurt like hell too! Did you and him get into some sort of argument? Maybe? He couldn’t recall but it felt more complex than that. Anger wasn’t the only emotion that seemed to be brewing within you. Disappointment? Concern, as well? Maybe even sadness?

“I’m mad at how you’ve been treating yourself, Link. You had basically become slave to your craft while you forged that armor! It was scary, Link- really scary. I’ve… I’ver never seen you go ballistic like that- I didn’t know you were even capable of it! Once I know you’re cleaned up and rested up, I’m having Hyrule and Wars check you out. And don’t think I’m gonna let you be unsupervised any time soon! Even if I have to be the one with you 24/7, I’ll do it!” You hiss. Your eyes light up with more than just anger or disappointment- dedication and a sense of duty are evident within you. It’s a beautiful look, if Four could be so bold. Not only that, but you’re referring to him by name! Progress!

“Oh… okay. I’m… sorry… for what I… did…” Four apologizes.

“No, it’s… don’t worry about it, okay? Your lack of sleep and food had clearly pushed you off the deep end. You just ended up snapping and I know that the neglect you’ve been through just made it worse. Not to mention what it must have been like with the addition of the Colors,” You sigh. Despite your dismissal, things were not okay. Four had said and done things that had upset you and certainly hurt you in come capacity. He wanted to apologize again but you had dropped the topic and clearly wished to no longer discuss it.

The bath continued on in silence as Four soaked in the moment. Even with the pain and exhaustion hounding his body from overworking himself, it felt worth it in the moment. You were so attentive and tender as you helped him. Even after he was out of the tub, you assisted in drying him off and basically swaddling him like a babe in towels. You even pulled out fancy creams or pastes Four hadn’t seen before. Beauty products, he had to guess, that were most likely given to you by Wars. Four let himself be pampered as its what he deserved. This moment, along with likely future pampering, was his reward for what he went through. Although he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Four was curious as to how far he could stretch this pampering and affection. Hyrule and Wars would undoubtedly tell him to rest for some time which could then easily be turned into time with you.

“Hmm… (Name)?” Four piped up as you searched through Four’s belongings to find him any clean clothes to wear.

“Yeah?” You respond and look up at the man. No matter how quietly he said anything or did anything, you’d perk up at full attention towards him. It made him feel special- to so easily have your attention.

“Can… I sleep with you for awhile? Until I’m better?” Four asks as he tries to make his tone as innocent as possible. Excitement was gnawing at his bones and trying to push through his exhaustion. He couldn’t let it show- not yet. He’s finally secured his way into your arms and he can’t blow it.

“Uhm… sure, I don’t see why not. If it’ll help you sleep easier,” You agree and Four is only a little miffed by the statement. It sooner sounds like you’re fulfilling his request just to make him feel better- not to spend more time with him. Oh well- at the very least, it’s a starting point. All relationships start somewhere, right? Even if there was a… bump in the road earlier (of which he still finds himself still incapable of fully remembering- Twilight had to have hit him hard).

He’s finally- finally by your side.

He’ll do every task you give him to a T- you deserve nothing less.

He’ll rip out the hearts of your enemies and put them on a silver platter for you.

He’ll show you what it means to be loved by him- every inch of his being, physical or intangible, belongs to you.

He’ll do anything it takes to be by your side for the rest of his life and after. Even if it’s something as simple as putting a ring on your finger or finding out if it’s possible to go from being Four to Five. Don’t think he’s above anything anymore. Everything he does now, big or small, is going to be for you.

And the only thing he’ll never do, no matter how kindly you ask or how desperately plead, is leave.

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere lu #yandere lu x reader #yandere lu four #yandere lu four x reader

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punkshort · 8 months

Text

Chapter warnings: language, descriptions of violence, death, graphic description of dead bodies, angst, smut (m masturbation), sexual tension x a million

A/N: please tell me if I should use any additional tags/warnings on this story. Also this is the longest chapter yet, I knew when I wanted it to end but I kept adding more detail and more scenes as I wrote and it just got away from me oops

Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

December 2003

Chicago, IL

The cold, bitter wind blew off the lake as you trudged through the snow. You had three layers underneath your thick jacket, but you were still freezing. You had forgotten just how cold it felt this close to the lake, but you kept eagerly pushing forward.

"I think I know where we are," you said excitedly to Joel, who had been unusually silent the past few miles. "There's this golf course a couple miles from my house, I think this is it."

"Can hardly see a thing out here," was all Joel said in response. You frowned, annoyed that he was bringing you down when you were finally starting to feel hopeful.

"What's wrong?" you asked, putting an arm out to stop him. He sighed and you watched as a puff of air leave his mouth then dance away on the wind before he turned to look at you.

"I'm just -" he stopped, rethinking his words. "I'm worried. If they ain't there, we need to go to the QZ, and I don't know if it'll be as easy to get out once we're in, like it was before." He paused before adding, "And I'm worried about you... if we don't find what you're expectin'."

"Don't be worried, I know it's a long shot. But I have to try. What else do I have?" You looked up at him through your eyelashes, dusted with snowflakes. You looked so beautiful that it took his breath away. He had to jam his fist into his pocket to keep himself from reaching out and cupping your face.

"You got me," he said, looking at you softly with his heart hammering in his chest. You inhaled sharply. He didn't mean it like it sounded. "We can go out west, see if we can find Tommy. It'll be warmer out there, too," he added nervously.

You could tell he was really trying, he looked anxious as he shifted his gaze to your surroundings, his hands fidgeting deeply in the pockets of his coat. You weren't even sure where you would even begin to look for Tommy, if that plan was even possible, but if he was willing to take you all this way to find your family, the least you could do is agree to try to find his.

"Yeah, okay," you said quietly. His fidgeting stopped, and he made eye contact with you again. "If I can't find my parents, that's a good plan. We can do that." You smiled reassuringly at him now, trying to ease his mind. He gave you a small smile in return and a quick nod, then looked back down at the snow, brushing his nose with the back of his gloved hand.

"Can we get moving, now? I'd like to get out of this cold soon," you said, stomping your feet lightly, trying to get more blood to circulate in your legs.

"Yeah, sure, let's get goin'," he said, and you headed across the golf course towards a wooded area in the distance. If this was the golf course you thought it was, then your neighborhood was just on the other side of those woods.

You made it to the outskirts of your neighborhood just before dusk. The familiar tree lined streets just a few blocks away from your house made your heart flutter in anticipation. You knew you shouldn’t get excited; you knew it was unlikely they would be there, or even leave any type of note telling you where they went, but you couldn’t help it. This was where you grew up, this was your home. Your memories were etched in these streets: learning how to ride a bike, falling out of the tree and breaking your arm in your best friend’s backyard, trolling the streets at night as teenagers thinking you were tough and cool. A part of you was excited to show your home to Joel, but you quickly stopped that line of thought. He was not your boyfriend you were bringing home to meet your parents. He was your boss who agreed to help keep each other safe these past few months.

You both approached your street as darkness wrapped around you. Joel insisted you survey the street for a while to see if there was any movement before giving away your position. You reluctantly agreed, ducking behind a house on the corner, until you saw light moving inside a house. Your house.

“Oh my god,” you said breathily, “that’s my house. Joel!” you latched onto his forearm, dragging his attention onto you, “My parents!” you gasped.

You lurched forward, but Joel’s hand yanked you back. You angrily spun around to face him.

“I know you’re excited,” he began, clenching both his hands on your shoulders, “but we don’t know if that’s them, it’s been a long time. I think we should wait- “

You cut him off, saying, “It’s got to be them, what are the chances? C’mon, Joel, please!” you begged, clutching his wrist. His gaze bore into yours as you held onto him, and again you whispered, “please,”.

He groaned, unable to deny you when you looked so sweet and adamant. “Alright, just give me a few minutes, let me think of a plan,” he replied, at which your face broke out in a huge smile, still grasping his hand in yours as you bounced on your heels.

“Sure, whatever, I just want to see them,” you replied, looking back at the lights moving around your living room. You couldn’t believe it; your parents were alive! Joel had tried to curb your expectations, but it wasn’t even necessary, they were there. They were right there!

You approached your house in the darkness, unable to keep the smile from your face as Joel led you quietly across the street. He rapped his knuckles three times on the door and pulled out his revolver as he stepped to the side, ready for hostility. When the door cracked open, it was not what either of you expected.

A man you didn't recognize peered out from around the corner. All you could see was his eye, but he looked terrified as he feverishly looked back and forth between you and Joel.

"Who are you?" he asked, the door still cracked.

"Who am I? Who are you?" you replied before thinking, "this is my house, what are you doing?"

The man faltered a moment and Joel stiffened on the other side of the door. "Are you armed?" the man asked nervously, unable to see Joel's revolver at his side.

"Goddamn right we are," Joel spoke up, his grip on the gun tightening, "you better start explain' yourself."

The man went to slam the door shut but Joel was anticipating it, shoving his boot in the doorway to stop him.

"Alright, alright, I don't mean any harm," the stranger said, opening the door up more and walking backwards with his hands in the air, "come in, I'm not armed, but please don't hurt us."

Us. You entered your living room. It looked the same, except some pieces of furniture were pushed closer together. You glanced up at the wall above the fireplace by habit, seeing your high school graduation photo still prominently displayed, then your eyes settled on a woman cowering in the corner of the room. She was taller than you and blonde, with wide blue eyes and bangs that brushed her eyebrows, and she was shaking with fear. You held your hand out to Joel and pushed his revolver gently towards the floor. He resisted until his gaze met the girl in the corner, and his arms went limp.

The man who answered the door stepped forward, and you noticed now he seemed much younger, maybe around you age. He kept his arms up in front of him as he stood in front of the woman, his eyes pleading.

"Please, we don't mean any harm, we are just looking for a safe place to stay." He repeated, his brown eyes anxiously shifting back and forth between you and Joel.

Joel met your eyeline, and you sighed. Obviously, your parents had moved on, which left you distraught, but these people were harmless.

"It's fine," Joel said, tucking the gun in the back of his jeans. "This is her house," he gestured towards you, "we're lookin' for her parents, you know anythin' about that?"

The man lowered his hands now that Joel put his gun away, and drifted backwards to stand next to the woman, who still looked shaken.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't know who used to live here. We just needed someplace safe to stay for the winter, and this neighborhood was abandoned. We just picked your house randomly, I'm so sorry." the man apologized again, truly looking upset he couldn't help you more. "I'm Tim, this is Lucy," Tim rubbed Lucy's back affectionately, trying to ease her nerves.

You both introduced yourselves and they relaxed a bit, sitting down on the sofa and chairs surrounding the crackling fireplace.

"You think havin' a fire is a good idea? What if someone sees the smoke?" Joel asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Hasn't been a problem yet," Tim replied, "until you two."

You shook your head. "We didn't notice the smoke, but we saw your flashlights."

Tim smacked his palm against his forehead. "The one day I forget to pull the curtains closed, dang it!"

Joel shook his head and learned toward to Tim, "You need to be more careful. You're lucky it was just us," he said, swinging his thumb between the two of you. "You need to be better prepared, you gotta protect her," now motioning towards the Lucy.

Tim's face paled and he gulped nervously, reaching out and clutching Lucy's hand. "Can you give us some pointers? We just left the QZ two weeks ago, we are doing our best out here but," Tim gave Lucy a tight smile, "we could use all the help we could get."

Joel's eyes shifted between Lucy and Tim, then back to you. He didn't want to waste his time helping some kids who clearly were in over their heads, but the look on your face when you turned to meet his gaze changed his mind. He was finding it impossible to say no to you.

"Yeah, alright. For starters, close the damn curtains and put out the fire," he told Tim gruffly.

"How will we stay warm?" Lucy spoke up for the first time, nervously casting her gaze between you and Joel.

"Blankets. Keep your bedroom door closed. Body heat. Set up tents to sleep in inside when the temperatures really drop," you replied curtly. "Only when absolutely necessary should you risk a fire. It's still November, there's a long winter ahead of you."

Joel smiled at you proudly as you spoke, Lucy catching his look. You had been picking up tidbits from him over the past few months, and he was happy to see you've been paying attention.

Tim got up to close the curtains as Joel began to put the fire out. Lucy turned to you, shooting you a nervous smile.

"Tim and I are already in the master bedroom, do you and your boyfriend mind taking the other one?"

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," you replied quickly. Too quickly. Joel's shoulders tensed over the fireplace. "But no, that's fine, we're used to sharing a bed, and that's my old room anyway."

Lucy smiled at you politely before shifting her eyes between you and Joel curiously, her eyebrows scrunched together as if she was trying to figure something out, then relaxed her brow when Tim returned to her side.

"Alright then, we're going to get some sleep. Obviously, help yourselves to whatever's in the cupboards. It is your house, after all." Tim said, glancing at you with a quick smile.

You nodded and wished them good night as they headed towards your parents’ room. It was just as well: it would have been weird to sleep with Joel in their bed.

The door shut behind them and you got to work rummaging through the familiar cupboards, pulling out some canned food you could eat and without having to think, pulled open the drawer that housed the can opener, and then the silverware. Joel eyed you warily as he sat down at the kitchen table. He knew he wasn't your boyfriend, but the way you quickly corrected Lucy still bothered him.

You ate in silence, leaving one flashlight on between you. Joel looked around your kitchen, trying to imagine you growing up here. His eyes landed on the fridge that had some pictures stuck to it with magnets. Once you were finished eating, he picked up the flashlight and went to take a closer look.

"Oh, those were taken so long ago, I hardly even look the same," you said, noticing where his attention was drawn.

Joel tsk'ed, zeroing in on a picture of you when you were little and drawing with chalk on the sidewalk, then another where you were on a field trip with your 8th grade class, and a third picture where you were in a sparkly red dress for a homecoming dance with some boy's arm around your waist.

"As I said, those were taken a long time ago," you whispered, suddenly appearing beside him. He turned to look at you, really look at you: he could still see the similarities from the pictures in the way you smiled, the shape of your eyes, and the curve of your mouth.

You yawned and reached out to grab your backpack. "Follow me," you said quietly, not wanting to disturb Tim and Lucy.

You led Joel down the hall towards your bedroom and pushed the door open. You were pleasantly surprised that your parents left it exactly the same. You still had posters hung on your wall of the Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, and Destiny's Child. The pictures that decorated your dresser mirror were the same ones you shoved in the frame from high school: pictures of you and your friends at dances, at a restaurant, the mall, and a couple with the same boy who was on the fridge.

"Who's the guy?" Joel couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, that's Matt. He was my first boyfriend. We broke up right before college," you said coolly as you pulled out some more comfortable clothes from your backpack and left to go change in the bathroom down the hall.

Joel took the opportunity to look casually through the items on your dresser, sniffing a few different half used perfume bottles and flipping through some CDs. It was strange to be here in your bedroom. He had never considered actually being here before, too focused on the journey and not really thinking about the destination. You returned to the bedroom with a couple of extra blankets in your arms.

"My parents kept these in the hall closet, I already made sure Tim and Lucy had enough," you explained, spreading the blankets over your twin bed. You swallowed nervously, realizing this bed was smaller than the beds you've previously shared. Joel excused himself to go clean up and change as you slid into the sheets, your eyes closing in relief at the familiarity of the room. You didn't realize you had nearly fallen asleep until the mattress shifted, and your eyes snapped open. Joel's leg and arm brushed up against yours as you tried to keep your body from going rigid at the contact. It was unavoidable, your bed was too small, so you forced your body to relax and tried not to overthink it.

"Tomorrow, I'll ask ‘em about the QZ. If they can share any details about the place, then I think we can go there lookin' for your folks," he whispered in the dark.

"Mhmm, sounds good," you whispered back, still struggling to control your reaction from being so close to him. Your whole body felt hot. You told yourself it was just the extra blankets, but you knew better. Whenever he had been this close before, it was in your sleep, your mind was unable to process his touch until he was already pulling away from you. You squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"You need more room?" he asked, about to move before you stopped him.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," you said quickly, and turned to your side, finally getting a few more inches between you.

Joel stared at your back longingly. It seemed like every day something reminded him of what he would never have. The way you shirked away from his touch and how you made it perfectly clear you were nothing more than companions to Lucy felt like a punch in the gut. It's been months, and he still couldn't get his mind off you. You were becoming a burning need and it was driving him crazy. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing sleep to come so he could find some peace.

You woke up the next morning feeling well rested and warm. Really warm. With your eyes still shut, you burrowed into your bedsheets deeper to enjoy the warmth a little longer before having to wake up and face the frigid Midwest. You nuzzled your face forward and froze when your nose and lips met skin instead of a blanket. You slowly opened your eyes and found yourself face to face with Joel’s chest. You must have shifted around and ended up facing him at some point overnight. You stared at the exposed skin of his neck, taking in the little details of his tanned and pebbled skin, examining every birthmark you could lay your eyes on, then leisurely allowed your gaze to travel upwards where his prickly beard scattered over his neck, jaw, and upper lip. You inspected the patchy spots in his beard, seeing a few grey hairs sprouting up on the corners of his jaw. You noticed one bald spot resembled a heart, making you ache with the desire to press your lips there. His lips looked soft and plush, and you remembered how good they felt pushed against your own as they maneuvered your mouth open. His nose was sharp and angular, your favorite feature after his eyes. You were caught up in examining the wrinkles developing around his face when he woke up suddenly and his gaze immediately fixated on you.

You now realized you had your arms tangled around each other. Even your leg was wedged in between his under the blankets. You both lay on your sides, faces inches away, as you continued to stare at one another silently. Joel's eyes flicked down your face, examining you the same way you had just done to him. You felt your cheeks flush under the scrutiny, and you parted your lips to take in more air as your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Joel noticed the movement, his gaze fixed on your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. He exhaled softly through his nose, the puff of air blowing gently over your face. The air around you was thick with tension, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Joel lifted his hand from your hip to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your lips. You sighed and your eyes fluttered shut, unable to resist leaning into his touch this time. He took a moment to appreciate the gentle features of your face while your eyes were closed. He ran his thumb over your lips again, marveling at how soft they were. He swallowed nervously, moving his thumb from your lips to rest on your cheek, then leaned forward, closing his eyes when his nose tenderly nudged your own.

A sharp knock on the door made you gasp and jump away. You sat up in bed, clutching the blanket to your chest and Joel laid back with a frustrated groan, roughly running his hands up and down his face.

"Yes!" you yelped; your voice high pitched. Lucy's quiet voice on the other side of the door answered.

"Just checking on you, we have breakfast and coffee whenever you're ready!"

"Be right out!" you replied, voice still too high, no doubt the result of your nerves short circuiting. You stared down at your hands, unsure what to say.

"Did you sleep alright?" you finally asked, a question he usually was asking you. You fidgeted with the edge of the blanket and turned to look at him, anxiously waiting for his answer. He dragged his hands down from his face and let them rest on his stomach, then shot you a grin.

"Slept fuckin' great," he said, grinning wider as he watched your face heat up from embarrassment, and you bit your lip to hold back a smile of your own. It took everything he had to not grab you and pull you back into his arms as you stood up and walked to the door.

"I'll see you in a minute," you said shyly, and closed the door behind you. You headed to the bathroom first, giving yourself a moment to catch your breath. You hovered over the sink and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, and your face was flushed. You looked completely wrecked. What were you thinking? The tension was beginning to be too much, and maybe if you just had sex and got it out of your system, just one time, it would help clear your head. It doesn't have to mean anything. If that was all he was willing to offer you, would that be so bad? You could separate the physical from the emotional, right? You sighed, raking your fingers through your hair to tame it, and went to meet Tim and Lucy in the kitchen.

"Fuck," Joel whispered out loud to himself after you left. He palmed his erection over his sweatpants, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. It had been so long since he last jerked off. It was risky, you could come back in here at any moment, but he was convinced he would be hard half the day if he didn't take care of himself.

He pushed his sweatpants down just enough to pull out his cock, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped himself firmly, setting a fast pace right away, knowing it wouldn't take him long. He let out short, quick gasps as he replayed the events from that morning: the way he caught you looking at him when he woke up, the sound you made when you sighed into his hand, your soft lips. "Shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, his hips thrusting into his fist as he imagined those lips wrapped around his cock, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your face all flushed as you brought him into your mouth as far as you could before stifling a gag.

He frantically reached out to the bedside table where he saw a few scarves piled near the lamp, snatching one and catching his release just in time before he made a mess all over your bed. He laid there for a few minutes catching his breath and then tucked himself back into his pants, shoving the scarf deep under your bed. He reluctantly stood up to change his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair before heading towards the kitchen.

"Oh my goodness, that sounds awful!" Joel heard you saying as he walked into the room. The three of you sat around the table with mugs of coffee, some oatmeal and pop-tarts. He sat down in a chair next to you and poured himself coffee before digging into the food.

"It got really bad there, we just couldn't risk sticking around. From what others were saying, it was just as bad in any other city," Tim had finished saying. You turned to Joel, faltering for a split second when your eyes met, before explaining.

"They just told me the QZ is a shitshow. People are having their food rationed, they're doing grunt work for hardly anything in return, and some people are being attacked for their supplies and the soldiers don't do anything to stop it," you said, listing each item off on your fingers as you spoke.

"Well, it could have been worse. We heard stories about soldiers going to neighborhoods and filling up trucks with people, telling them they'll go to the QZ, but the trucks never arrived," said Lucy, eyes wide. "Rumor has it, there wasn't enough room, so the soldiers shot everyone and left them on the side of the road."

"Why would they do that?" you gasped, a hand over your mouth.

"Dead people can't turn into infected," said Tim sadly, "that's why we stuck it out in the QZ as long as we could."

"How long were you there for?" Joel asked, pausing to take a sip of the piping hot coffee. He looked around, frowning, wondering for the first time how they heated up food, and then he saw the fireplace roaring. His eyes flicked back to Tim angrily.

"I know, I know, we're gonna put it out, we just wanted to warm up a bit and make something to eat," he waved off Joel's glare with a chuckle, "besides, you couldn't even see the smoke last night."

"We were distracted, anyone else walkin' up this street will see it. I'm warnin' you right now," Joel scowled and pointed his finger menacingly at Tim, "if you get her hurt 'cause you ain't listenin' to me, I'm gonna make the QZ look like a fuckin' playground." The whole table was silent while Joel stared daggers into Tim's paling face. You were confused why Joel was so protective over Lucy, a stranger by all accounts, until the coffee kicked in and it clicked: Joel wasn't referring to Lucy. He was talking about you. You could feel the tips of your ears getting red.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the tension at the table. Then a thought occurred to you. You got up quickly and snatched a picture off the mantle over the fireplace, bringing it back to the table and slid it between Lucy and Tim.

"Did you ever see those two people in the QZ?" you asked desperately, your gaze bouncing between them as they examined the photo carefully. They frowned as they stared into the faces of your smiling parents, then slowly shook their heads.

"I'm sorry, I don't think so. But it was a big place," said Lucy, "it's possible they could be there, and we just never saw or noticed them!"

You sighed, thanking them anyway, and pulled the picture back towards you. Joel could see the disappointment in your eyes, and he wanted to take your mind off it. His gaze traveled to a corner of the kitchen where he saw a bow leaning up against the wall with a quiver of arrows. He nodded towards it.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, standing up to inspect it. You looked up and gasped.

"That's mine! Oh my god, I had no idea my parents kept it."

"Yeah, we found it in the basement. We didn't have any weapons, so we figured it was better than nothing. I've never even used a bow before," Tim said. Joel picked it up and pulled on the strings a few times, then picked up a couple arrows and flicked the tips to test their sharpness.

"You mind if we borrow it? I wanna try to get us something substantial to eat. Looks like it's gonna be a nice day," Joel said, peeking out the window up at the sun, watching the icicles on the gutters drip.

Tim agreed, since it wasn't really his to begin with. You insisted on leaving your pistol on the counter with them, in case of an emergency. Lucy shuddered when she saw the gun, and Tim picked it up to put it in the cupboard next to the sink.

"She hates guns," he explained quietly to you as you and Joel got ready to head out to hunt. "After seeing so much brutality in the QZ, she can't stand them. I'm just trying to keep her calm and happy, so I do as she says." He smiled at you both as you walked through the front door. Before you walked away, Joel turned back to Tim and just simply said "Fire," in a forceful tone, to which Tim nodded and gave a thumbs up, closing the door behind you.

The two of you walked silently down the street back towards the woods you came from, your heads swiveling every so often to make sure no one else was around. The sun was bright, and it was bouncing off the white snow, making you wince. You could tell as you walked that the few inches of snow that was on the ground was breaking up under the warmth. It would probably mostly be gone by nighttime, leaving muddy and dead grass to admire.

Once you reached the woods, Joel did his best to track any animal prints that looked fresh. He wasn't exactly an expert, but he knew enough. You followed closely behind him and kept your eyes on the trees for any movement. You had been walking around the woods for almost an hour before you stopped to rest. You found a fallen tree trunk elevated a bit from the ground that you could both comfortably sit on. You took a sip from your canteen as you glanced around. The forest was so still and quiet, it felt peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment to savor it, unaware Joel was watching you closely.

Neither of you had mentioned anything about this morning. Joel felt a glimmer of hope inside him that maybe not all was lost, that maybe you could feel the same way he did. He wanted to talk about it, but he didn't want to scare you off and ruin the progress he had made. He cleared his throat, the noise grabbing your attention and making you open your eyes to look at him.

"So," he began, fiddling with the bow in his hands, his eyes cast downward, "I guess when we get back, we oughta ask 'em how they escaped from the QZ, then we can make a plan, get in and see if we can find your folks."

"Mhm, that sounds good," you said, watching him pick at the bow. "Maybe we should stay one more night, then leave early tomorrow."

He looked up at you now, unable to hide the shock from his face. He expected you would want to leave right away, eager to find your family. He scanned your face, seeing a small, playful smile, and he swallowed roughly. You wanted to stay another night for a reason.

His breath caught in his throat, and he could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks. He hoped you would think the cold air was to blame as he shifted his weight on the log, dragging his gaze from you and onto the trees.

"Yeah," he finally squeezed out, "that's fine, we can leave tomorrow."

You bit your lip and turned your head away from him so he wouldn't see the smile that threatened to spill across your face.

You heard a snap of a twig nearby, drawing both of your attention as you fixated on the location of the noise. You froze when you saw a fat rabbit about 10 yards away, happily munching on some grass that had been exposed by the sun. Joel slowly reached down for the bow, but without looking you reached your hand out to place on top of his, stopping him. You motioned with your fingers to hand over the bow. You were more familiar with it, but it had been a long time. It was like riding a bike, right?

You loaded an arrow slowly into the bow, and drew back the string silently, closing one eye and aiming straight ahead. You let out a slow breath, then held it for half a second before letting go of the string. You cried out in happiness when the arrow made contact, killing the rabbit instantly. Joel swiveled his head towards you with a huge grin plastered on his face, beaming with pride.

You held the rabbit by the feet as you made your way back to the house, explaining you used to shoot archery in middle school but lost interest. The adrenaline from the kill combined with the excitement of what lied ahead for you and Joel was making you dizzy with happiness. You should have known something was going to ruin it.

You were a few doors down from your house, still smiling and teasing Joel about how much of a better hunter you were when his eyes fell on the front door of your house, and he froze. You stopped automatically, following his gaze to the front door of the house that was wide open. You both stood there for a minute, waiting to see if Tim was going to appear walking back inside with a bucket of snow to melt, but he never did. You turned to Joel, your eyes filled with worry.

"Did he leave the door open?" you asked shakily, hoping there was a reasonable explanation. Joel slowly shook his head, eyes still trained on the house. You looked around you now, trying to make out any footprints in the snow that may have been foreign, and Joel looked around at the houses on the street for movement. When it appeared to be quiet and still, you both begrudgingly approached your home, afraid of what you would find.

Joel stepped through the door first, his face immediately contorting in a grimace. He held his arm out to keep you back, but you refused, dropping the rabbit and pushing past him, gasping at the sight before you. Tim and Lucy were slaughtered, laying lifeless on your living room floor. Blood seeped into the beige carpet, making it spongy and red. Their eyes were open and staring up at the ceiling, their mouths agape as blood slowly trickled from their multiple stab wounds.

You bit back a sob, turning away to focus on literally anything except them. Joel desperately wanted to comfort you, but he first needed to know the bandits were gone, so he advanced into the small house, clearing each room before returning to find you standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down your face.

He briefly noticed the cupboards were left wide open, all the food taken, as well as the pistol you left for Tim, before he reached out to envelop you in his arms. You sank into his embrace, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. His eyes flicked back to the scene in the living room.

“That fuckin’ fire, I told him to put it out,” he said, staring at the small flames still licking at the embers.

You tried to argue with Joel about burying them, but he didn’t want to risk it. He wanted to get back into the forest behind the shelter of the pine trees. You had packed up your things quickly while Joel draped a couple sheets over their bodies. He made sure to grab the rabbit you killed before hurrying you out the front door and back towards the forest, not stopping until you were miles away and you begged him to take a break. He relented only when he found a secluded spot where he felt safe making a small fire to cook the rabbit. As you ate, he examined his map, trying to figure out where you were in relation to the QZ. He was fairly certain you were heading in the right direction, his eyes lifting up towards the sun and then turned the map around in his hands.

“I think we’re here,” he told you, pointing to a green area on the map. “If we hook up with this road here,” he dragged his finger over to a thick line on the page, “then that will take us right into the city, and we can find the QZ.” You nodded, cleaning off your plates in what little snow remained on the ground. “You doin’ ok?” he asked you hesitantly. You stopped cleaning the plates to look up at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “just… that could’ve been us. It scared me.” You held his gaze for a moment, trying to express how much he meant to you with a look. Joel shook his head and leaned forward to grip your hand.

“It ain’t gonna be us, we don’t make stupid mistakes like that, you understand me?” You nodded, your eyes raking over his face, wondering if your luck will eventually run out. He gave your hand one more squeeze before standing up, urging you to pack up so you could make it to the QZ before nightfall.

The road Joel had pointed out to you on the map was deserted, surrounded only by thick forests and a few abandoned cars as you made your way slowly towards the city. You kept your gaze on the ground in front of you, absentmindedly kicking a stone here or there as you walked beside Joel, who was on high alert for raiders and gripping his rifle tightly in his hands. The road curved and steered you towards an open field, where you could now see buildings not too far off in the distance. Suddenly, Joel stretched his arm out across your chest, stopping you both. You looked up at him, confused, then followed his gaze. Not far ahead, you could see a pile of bodies on the side of the road, just like Lucy had warned. You held your breath, unable to fathom how evil those soldiers must be to execute all those innocent people. He looked down at you, and you nodded to him, telling him you were ok, to keep walking.

You continued down the road, both of you unable to keep your eyes off the bodies as you got closer. You couldn’t tell how long they had been there, the harsh winter had likely preserved their bodies, but with the snow melting today, you could make out most of their exposed faces and clothes. Your eyes scanned over a few of the bodies on top and that’s when you saw them: their bodies twisted and lifeless, laid next to one another on the side of the pile.

You dropped to your knees in the middle of the street, not even registering the pain from the impact. Then your vision went blurry before blackness creeped along the edges. You forced out a choked cry, unable to control the volume of your voice as sobs shook your body. Joel’s arms were around you instantly, cutting off your view from your parents, and kneeled down in the street with you, holding you to his chest to muffle your screams, rocking you back and forth until your breathing slowed and you ran out of tears.

Chapter Twelve

Taglist: @chiogarza, sparklejumpropequeen-777

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jokeringcutio · 4 months

Text

Matthew Lillard x Actress Reader. A romantic little Drabble, rating T.

Disclaimer: I don't mean any disrespect toward Matthew Lillard and his family, and want to make it clear that this story is purely fictional.

Fill for this post: [ x ] Matthew: if you ever come across this, I sincerely apologize for all the horrible things I made your characters do. And please, don't let your family have a look at those other fics. I implore you.

You stepped onto the balcony, the chill night air a sharp contrast to the stifling warmth of the crowded movie awards hall. The fabric of your dress—a midnight blue number with a daring slit up the side—rustled against your skin as you moved. Its sequins flickered like distant stars under the pale moonlight, mirroring the shimmer in your eyes. You needed this respite, a moment alone to breathe.

"Mind if I join you?" The voice was unmistakable, laced with the same charm that had captivated audiences for decades. Matthew Lillard followed you outside, his tailored suit clinging perfectly to his tall frame. The black tuxedo made him look even more dashing than usual, the jacket hugging his broad shoulders, the trousers skimming down those long legs. His tie was a deep burgundy, a splash of color against the crisp white shirt.

"Of course not," you replied, turning towards him with a smile that felt more genuine than most you'd offered that evening.

"Remember the first scene we shot together?" he asked, leaning casually against the balustrade. "You couldn't stop laughing every time I flubbed my lines."

"Hard to forget," you chuckled, recalling the way your laughter had filled the set, a memory tinged with fondness.

"Those were good times." He looked at you, and there was an echo of shared jokes in his gaze. "We made quite the pair on screen."

"Too convincing, perhaps?" you ventured, thinking of the whispers that had followed you both. Rumors of an off-screen romance had swirled around you like persistent flies.

"Speaking of which..." Matthew's tone shifted, became something softer, probing. "Why did we never... you know, give it a shot?"

Your heart stumbled, then raced. You stammered, words tripping over each other as they rushed out. "Well, I—It's just that, um—"

"Hey," he interrupted gently, a perceptive glint in his blue eyes. "You don't have to shield my ego."

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat. Could he see right through you? Did he know about the quiet yearning that whispered through your veins whenever he was near?

"Truth is," Matthew continued, his voice dropping a register, intimate and raw, "I had a thing for you. A big one. Still do. Never tried to hide it."

His confession sliced through the night, hung between you, heavy and electric. Your pulse hammered in your ears; the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis.

"Even now?" The question escaped before you could cage it, revealing more of your heart than intended.

"Even now." His affirmation was simple, unwavering. And you just stood there, breath stolen by the audacity of his confession. The night air bit at your bare shoulders, goosebumps rising along your arms not solely from the chill. Stars blinked above as you considered all the possibilities that suddenly lay ahead of you.

"Say something," he urged, voice low, teasing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. They searched your face, looking for a truth you hadn't even admitted to yourself.

Silence stretched, a canvas awaiting the first stroke of color.

"Did you ever...?" He left the question hanging, but you felt it deep inside.

Your heart thrummed a frenetic rhythm against the cage of your ribs. "I did," you whispered, finally allowing the words to escape, fluttering into the space between you like frightened birds. "But the years between us..." You trailed off, the age gap looming like a chasm too wide to cross.

"Numbers," Matthew dismissed with a wave of his hand, his suit jacket shifting to reveal the cut of his frame beneath the fine fabric. "They're just numbers, and I've never been good at math."

Laughter escaped you, short and startled, the sound cutting through the tension. It was a confession wrapped in a joke, and it loosened something within you.

"Come here," he said, extending his arm toward you. His offer was a lifeline, bold and clear.

"Are you sure?" A daring beat pulsed behind the question. Your gaze flicked to the media frenzy inside, the voracious cameras that would document this moment.

"Let them talk," he said, certainty lacing his tone like steel.

"Okay." One word, heavy with implication. You took his arm, the fabric of his suit cool and smooth under your fingers.

His arm tightened around you as you stepped into the light pouring from the hall. Flashbulbs ignited, an artificial daylight that pried and probed. But in the shelter of his arm, you found an unexpected fortress.

"Girlfriend sounds nice," he whispered, a promise woven through the syllables.

"Boyfriend," you echoed, savoring the shape of the word, the weight it carried. Delight surged, sweet and potent as honey liquor.

The world would wake to new headlines tomorrow. Let them spin their stories. Tonight, you wrote your own narrative, one electric step at a time.

#matthew lillard x reader #prompt fill

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archonadeptus · 1 year

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Genshin Impact x Anxious!CreatorReader

A/N: I'm so sorry it's been so long!! I was hoping if I were to write a smaller fic then it would help me get over my writer's block. Hopefully it has and that my writing improves more! Please, stay tuned! I also celebrated my birthday on the 16th so I'm 21 now! Insanity right?

Warnings: Anxiety, Detailed description of a Panic attack, negative thoughts about yourself being a burden. Loads of comfort and reassurance though!

Call for us.

Deep breaths. Do what Tighnari taught you. In for three, hold for three- no wait. Was it four seconds? You had no idea at this point, your chest was tightening and your breathing was uneven. You didn't even know how it got to this point, you were just sitting there enjoying the views of Liye alone. The others were reluctant to let you go alone, but you insisted on some peaceful thinking. Maybe they were right… You were on top of Wangshu Inn and were currently in debate on whether you should call out for Xiao, he'd take you back to the Serenitea pot safe and sound. Then again, you didn't want to bother anyone - you chose to do this alone and this is what you deemed to be the consequence. You were the all mighty divine creator, why did the anxiety have to follow you to Teyvat from your world?

Gripping onto the railing, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to gain control of your breathing and try to fight against the feeling of the impending sense of doom. Why now? Why ever, really. You had to do something but your legs were shaking a little too much to walk and you just felt too weak. It can't be helped then… You know he won't mind but still, you didn't want to bother him.

"Xiao." His name had always easily rolled off your tongue, your heart always filled when your eyes laid upon him, and even now in the midst of your anxiety, it didn't change.

"You called, your grace?" His voice felt oh so soothing. "Your grace!" He rushed swiftly to your side, supporting your shaking form as your grip loosened on the balcony rails. Relief partially flooded you, golden tears welling within your eyes.

"Home?" You paused, exhaling a shaky breath, "Please?" You didn't have to ask twice as he lifted your form up into his arms bridal style, holding you safely against his chest as he telephoned you both to your Serenitea Pot. Shutting your eyes again, you tried to focus on his newly quickened heartbeat. When would it feel better? Your hands gripped into the material of his clothing as he moved quickly inside your mansion, you really should move the teleport waypoint closer to your front door. "Don't let go… Hold me until it's over…" His eyes simply gazed at you with an intense love and the sheer desire to protect. Nodding gently, he finally rushed inside with you against him whilst Kazuha and Heizou wandered out of the main room to see what the commotion was about.

"Our creator… The anxiety is torturing them, where's their medicine from Albedo?" Heizous heart broke at the scene before him, worry engulfing both of the other anemo boys.

"I'll go and get him, he came to check in our Grace." Heizou spoke before rushing away to obtain the medicine whilst Kazuha gently guided you both to the sofa.

"Let's lay them down, they need the air." Kazuha's voice was so gentle yet Xiao was still hesitant, holding your shaking form a little closer. Instead he sat upon the seat and laid you across him - your head upon his lap as his fingers threaded through your hair. Kazuha knelt down as you also reached out for him, his hand intertwining with your own.

"I-I'm sorry." They shared a worried glance before Kazuha's voice perked back up,

"Love, you have nothing to apologise for. Look at everything you're done and made for us. You have always been there to protect and care for us so please allow us to do the same." Nodding a little, albeit hesitantly, you shut your eyes tightly as your heart hammered against your chest. Breathe. Just breathe, that's all you had to do. So why did it feel so impossible? Fast footsteps could be heard before Heizou and Albedo soon joined you with the medicines safely within Albedos grip.

"My Divine… I've got the medicine. Xiao, I'm going to need to sit them up now." Xiao however, seemed a little more possessive over you whilst you were vulnerable. You had told him to hold you until it's over, and that's exactly what he was going to do.

"It's okay, they're going to be alright…" Kazuha attempted to calm the adepts down, knowing that he was feeling hesitant to let you go. Ever so softly, Xiao soon helped to move you to sit up and rest against his chest. His hand held onto your trembling one as he left a light but hidden kiss against your head.

Albedo gently kneeled in front of you, a small smile of reassurance upon his lips. "I've got you… I'm here. We need you to breathe now my divine. Slowly…" The golden tears falling down your cheeks shattered their hearts, but once Kazuha softly placed your free hand against his chest and began to exaggerate his breathing for you to hopefully ground onto and replicate, things felt a little lighter. Your heavy and short breaths combined with whimpers soon slowed prompting Albedo in gently pressing the vial of liquid to your lips. The liquid was soon swallowed and they all continued to hold you and help ground you.

"T-thank you…"

"Your Grace," Heizou softly spoke, gazing at you with kind yet serious eyes. "Why didn't you call us when you first felt the signs? You know we would have been there within an instant hm?" He placed his hand upon his chin within thought, "Though, if I were to do a little detective case right now of my own, all clues point to the fact that you were worried about being a burden again." Your silence and light blush of embarrassment proved his case correct immediately.

"My divine…" Xiao's arms held you safer against him as he felt you relax into his arms. It seemed the potion was helping you fight the anxiety yet it was leaving you so tired. "You are the most important… You need to speak my name and then I will deal with the rest." His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper against your ear. "You'd do the same for us… Please, let me help you… I…adore you." Trying to battle the effects of feeling immensely tired, you leaned fully against him completely relaxed.

"Thank you all… i-i will do my best to call for you when I need you… I promise." Kazuha smiled gently, freeing your other hand so that you could cuddle up.

"Beloved… Why don't you sleep here now? We won't leave your side." Albedo was calming with the wsh he spoke, yet you didn't need much prompting to fall swiftly into a comfortable slumber laying against Xiao (who began to feel very flustered holding the divine creator in his arms now just own worry over you was subsiding). "Sleep well, my divine."

It had been a few hours since you had fallen asleep against them. Xiao had refused to move other than to carefully move you into a comfier position. You now have a very fluffy and don't pillow and blankets thanks to Heizou and Kazuha. The others had left only for an occasional snack or drink, or to inform others of what happened so that they can be sure they're able to assist you next time. However, due to being cuddled up safely with Kazuha's fingers gently moving through your hair as Xiao watched over you, you didn't hear the door open and a concerned Zhongli wandered over.

"What happened to my divine?" His concerned golden eyes trailed over your curled up form, the peaceful expression upon your face soothing him ever so slightly. Albedo was the first to speak,

"They had a panic attack… They were alone when it happened but thankfully they called upon Adrptus Xiao to bring them home." He took a light breath, gazing down at you. "I gave them the potion I created to help the anxiety but the whole endeavour understandably took all of their energy quite rapidly." Zhongli simply nodded before gazing at them all.

"Understood. I shall wait with them until they wake… Maybe I should brew some calming tea…" His deeper voice mumbled off into a more quiet state of thinking. "Please wait here, I'll go and brew the tea. It's an old remedy from my archon years. It shall be ready for our Divine to drink in six hours. So please, wait a moment." He pressed a light kiss to your forehead before swiftly leaving to create the tea…

"Six hours? Won't our Grace wake before then?" Xiao simply shrugged before ensuring you were comfortable in your sleep.

"Zhongli sure does have peculiar methods of things doesn't he?" Heizou grinned before standing. "I thinkmill up and see how he prepares this tea, just in case it helps our Grace."

Before Zhongli knew it, he had a detective and alchemist watching his every move, though he was pleased to rant about the tea and how it would assist you. Kazuha and Xiao remained holding you though… You were safe in their arms, forever and always. Don't be afraid to call upon them… Any of them. They will be there within an instant. They love you… They want you to be safe.♡ But please, upon waking, try to pretend the tea tastes lovely~

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact creator #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #heizou x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #anxiety #genshin x anxious reader

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imogenkol · 3 months

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— DAY 5: VOWS / IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU

words: 2.4k

warnings: codependency

tags: oc x canon, angst, finally admitting feelings, little bit of fluff

this is sort of an unofficial chapter 5 of If I Had A Heart that will eventually be added to the main fic (probably around the release of season 2) but the @starwarssapphicweek prompts gave me the perfect excuse to hammer this scene out and share it!

Something shifted. A subtle change. Like how the turn of the tide goes unnoticed until you find yourself drifting in another direction. It might have been the warm smile Imogen saw flash across Bix’s lips in response to the stout droid’s stutter. Or the way the mechanic carried herself just a little more steadily, her legs no longer swaying beneath such a heavy burden. Imogen wondered if it had finally lifted off of her shoulders. Perhaps the more likely explanation was that Bix had simply adapted to its weight.

Less pressure seemed to lay on her own shoulders, as well. Imogen knew her fortitude had been weakened, but had not allowed herself to admit just how entwined their emotions had become. With their strength returned, the bounty hunter felt renewed resolve. At last, she could do what she needed to and put all of this complication behind her.

While The Crimson Huntress had not seen any maintenance in quite some time, the quality of Bix’s work had impressive longevity. To no surprise, the ship’s system did not find a single issue when Imogen ran diagnostics. She could resume business as usual as soon as she gathered her personal effects, which would not take long.

If only the pit in her gut had not grown.

As she walked down the ship’s ramp, Imogen noticed a lingering stare off in the distance from where Bix conversed with Jezzi. The two had grown closer and Imogen used that knowledge to reassure herself. Surely a Daughter of Ferrix would serve as a far better pillar for Bix than Imogen ever could. She feigned disinterest in their interaction and continued on, despite the invisible cord between her and Bix becoming taut.

What little she had brought to her room from the ship had already been neatly organized for this very purpose. Imogen wasted little time and moved her essential possessions into a leather satchel, trying to ignore the strain of swimming against the tide.

How else was she supposed to save herself from drowning?

Imogen had barely begun before she sensed a familiar presence approach like a breeze you could hear rustle through nearby leaves, but could not yet feel caress your skin. Under normal circumstances, she would eagerly await that coming wind, whether it be a steady gust or raging storm. This time, though, Imogen closed her eyes and exhaled a quiet sigh through her nose as she placed an extra blaster into her bag, her chest already tightening.

The door to her temporary quarters slid open and closed behind her. A strong ripple through the Force told Imogen to expect a storm.

“What are you doing?” Bix asked, unable to hide the accusatory tone that already took over her voice.

“I am tidying up,” Imogen replied, avoiding the mechanic’s gaze. She felt it so directly that she had to fight its influence.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“Clearly I have been occupied.”

“You’re leaving.”

The statement followed a tense beat in the small space. One where Imogen felt the uptick of her own heartbeat in her fingertips as she reached for a comlink and slipped it into one of the smaller compartments of her bag. She knew she should have departed before sunrise. It would have been easier to cut the frequency of Bix’s disappointment over the comms than to face her like this.

“You have recovered.” Imogen kept her tone detached and cold.

“I pretty much walk on my own, now, yeah.” Every bitterly sarcastic word dripped with mounting animosity. Though, Imogen sensed more than mere anger. She felt the vice in Bix’s heart within her own, as if a clawed hand clamped around the muscle and began to drag it down. She knew by now that her connection with Bix was the cause of such pain. “You told me you would stay.”

Imogen kept her eyes averted as she continued to calmly collect her things around the room. “I never made such a promise.”

“Don’t pull this shit with me again,” Bix warned as she stepped into the bounty hunter’s path. When Imogen ignored the bite and attempted to move past her, Bix caught her arm in a firm grasp. “Look at me, Imogen.”

This time, Imogen audibly sighed. She wanted to wrench her arm free, grab her bag, and never look back without another word. Shame twisted her insides as she accepted the fact she simply could not will herself to do so. Imogen forced her eyes to meet the mechanic’s wounded gaze and felt a deep ache impact in her chest.

“I do not belong here,” she said quietly.

The here in question did not quite refer to one particular place, not since they escaped the chaos on Ferrix. Here became Bix. It became Jezzi. Brasso. The boy whose father Imogen cut down after he had been hung on Rix Road, Wilmon. Even Cassian. These were not her people. Imogen had no people. She needed to keep it that way.

“You belong with me,” Bix said with such firm conviction that Imogen felt the claws dig in a little deeper.

“Don’t say that.” Imogen resented how pathetic and pained she sounded.

The grip Bix had on her loosened for half a second before she tightened it again. This time, less vengefully and more desperate. Imogen felt the heat of her palm burn her skin through layers of clothing. “Don’t go.”

I cannot do this, her thoughts cried.

“I cannot stay.”

“Yes, you can,” Bix insisted.

Imogen wanted to. She wanted to stay more than she ever has – more than she has ever wanted anything. It reached beyond want. Beyond need. It felt as vital as any other organ within her body that kept her alive. Yet, Imogen had to rip this feeling out of herself, because she knew better. She knew how this would end. “You do not want me to, Bix.”

The mechanic said what even Imogen’s thoughts could not conjure. “I need you.”

She shook her head again, but felt her resolve start to crumble. “That has never been true.”

“After everything, where is this coming from?”

“You know very well where.”

As steadfast as any storm, Bix held her ground. “No, you don’t get to run this time. Things are different now.”

“Which is precisely why.”

“Imogen –”

“Why are you so determined to have me?” Imogen snapped. Finally, anger broke through the pain and she yanked herself out of Bix’s grasp. Anger she could deal with. Anger she could work with. Her gray eyes burned as her expression hardened. “Whatever excitement you may have convinced yourself was worth turning your back on your own morals to be with me must have dissipated by now. Let it go.”

Bix immediately matched her temper, perfectly reflecting the bounty hunter’s intimidating glare. “No.”

“Why? What could you possibly see?”

“I see someone like me.”

Imogen scoffed humorlessly. She stepped back and slung the satchel over her shoulder. “Now I am truly convinced of your delusion.”

“Is it really so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Imogen hissed, “because there are few in the entire galaxy who have done what I have. You should have refused me the moment you heard of my past. You should feel repulsed by me. Any decent being would.”

“Well, I don’t. And I don’t really care what you think that makes me.” Bix shrugged, her arms falling back to her sides. “So, what now?”

“I leave. For good this time,” Imogen said before turning on her heel and making way for the door.

“I’m asking you not to,” Bix called after her with sudden urgency, the animosity in her tone falling away to desperation. “Please.”

The plea halted Imogen’s pace out of her control. She clenched and unclenched her fists restlessly and grinded her teeth. She knew this to be the very last ditch effort to spare herself and Bix. The part of her that knew how useless it all was made her drop her bag and march back to the other woman.

With swift, exasperated purpose, Imogen unclipped her lightsaber hilt from her belt. Anyone would have flinched or ran for their life, but not even the barest flash of fear crossed over Bix. She knew that even during their darkest moments, Imogen would never harm her.

The former Inquisitor held the hilt up and Bix’s eyes were immediately drawn to its ornate design. The dark carved wood in the grip. The black metal switch. The angled electrum emitter. Imogen’s weapon was made to bring nothing but destruction and death. This weapon was her darkness. If Imogen could not convince Bix to condemn her with this, then nothing else would.

“Take this.”

Bix blinked at her apprehensively before she carefully accepted the weapon. Imogen expected it to look wrong in the mechanic’s hand, but as Bix tightened her fingers around the grip hard enough to turn her knuckles white, Imogen felt the blade… call to her. Not strong enough to suggest a talent with the Force, but enough that her lightsaber seemed to recognize something within the other woman. Something it grew accustomed to in Imogen. She nearly asked Bix if she felt it, too, but stopped herself.

“The kyber crystal that powers this blade once belonged to my Master when I was a Jedi,” Imogen explained. Bix’s eyes widened every so slightly and she regarded it with renewed interest. “She perished in the Temple on Coruscant, the first night of the Purge.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied sincerely.

A very brief, very subtle smirk twitched at the corner of Imogen’s mouth. “Do not be. My Master died by my own hand.”

Bix remained still and silent. The hand that held the lightsaber was steady. She did not back away in horror — did not ask Imogen how she could be capable of such a horrific act of betrayal. Imogen wished she would. It’d certainly make this easier.

“It may have been an impulsive decision on my part, but I have never regretted it, not for one single moment,” Imogen continued calmly, her eyes still transfixed on the lightsaber hilt in Bix’s grasp. “Even in the wake of our Order’s destruction, Rejna would have spent the rest of her life shackled to me out of a twisted sense of duty. I simply found the strength to free us both.”

“That’s how you became an Inquisitor.”

“Yes.” Imogen hoped that her final confession would be the catalyst, and she hoped that it wouldn’t. “That is what I am, even without loyalty to the Empire.”

“And what else?” Bix pressed. Something captivating sparked in her dark eyes like she had Imogen balanced on a knife’s edge. “What else are you?”

“I am utterly alone,” the former Jedi admitted. Another deeper truth she had never given words to, yet offered freely to the woman in front of her. Imogen could no longer call it strange to splay out her bloody insides for the mechanic to behold. Bix might as well ignite that saber and do it herself.

“Do I make you feel alone?”

Imogen shook her head as she struggled to articulate a response. There were no easy answers when it came to that particular subject. “I don’t know what you make me feel.”

“That’s a lie,” Bix challenged.

The intensity of her gaze pierced right through Imogen just as much as those three words, but she simply couldn’t let Bix shackle herself to someone as lost as her. Not any more than Imogen could have allowed herself to be shackled to Rejna. “I do not think I can love you, Bix.”

“Why not?”

“I never learned how.”

“Funny,” the mechanic deadpanned as she returned the lightsaber hilt to Imogen’s unsteady hands. “You could have fooled me.”

The clouds suddenly parted in Imogen’s mind at the simple remark. She knew nothing of love — not how to love, nor recognize it — she believed herself incapable of such a thing. But with Bix’s words, Imogen thought back to the months she spent taking care of her. She thought back to the very moment she decided to rescue her from the Empire without hesitation. She thought even further back, still, to the first time she touched down on the surface of Ferrix with a fresh ship and an ambitious idea to make it into something more with the help of a resourceful and bold mechanic.

A devastating wave of realization crashed down on top of her and it felt like her lungs might burst from the strain of her strangled breath. Imogen finally understood. It’s been her. It has always been her. Memories flooded into her mind of every decision and every word and touch they shared, yet she could not pinpoint the exact moment it happened. This woman had achieved what none other have — to take Imogen completely by surprise.

In a state of wonder, Imogen absentmindedly set the lightsaber aside without taking her eyes off of the woman before her. And she gave in.

Imogen’s cold hands cupped Bix’s warm face as their lips collided. Her senses exploded like she had been holding her breath for months – for years, and this was her very first gulp of fresh air. They fell into a feverish cadence — one desperate and fierce and rough. Imogen let go of her reservations, her fear, her uncertainty. She let go of everything, even herself. Nothing else mattered any longer.

Bix clung to her as if she were her center of gravity, and matched the passion that had ignited between them. Teeth scraped against teeth. Gasps entered through parted lips. The soft heat of an eager tongue greeted the other. Imogen wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer, but she needed something else. Something more. Or something less.

Their cadence suddenly took on a soft, intimate nature. Imogen pulled back just enough to delicately brush her lips over Bix’s in what could barely be called a kiss, caressing her thumb over the flushed flesh of her cheek. The thrill that raced up Imogen’s spine and detonated in her chest nearly brought her to her knees. Her affection was rarely ever gentle and the harshness she had adopted for years successfully kept a barrier up all this time, but the barrier had collapsed into rubble. So, Imogen indulged in the utterly breathtaking sensation of such a simple kiss, accepting with certainty that she never could have left her beloved mechanic again.

Not ever again.

Imogen Kol knew nothing of love… except that she did. She did know how to love, she had been loving this woman all along.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut

#swfsf2024 #oc insp: Imogen Kol #ship insp: if I had a heart #tried to get this done a couple days ago but just didn’t get the chance so sorry it’s late!#hopefully I’ll do a couple more prompts for this month!

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iam93percentstardust · 9 months

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✨new fic for bestie's (@therollingstonys) birthday! ✨ ft omegaverse, past hammer/tony, and my current favorite trope: pop star tony! with a bonus excerpt below :)

can be found here (must have an ao3 account to read)

During Steve’s final year at NYU, he finally let his Ma talk him into staying in the dorms instead of using his New Yorker privilege to stay with her. It had turned out to be an absolute mistake. Steve had despised his roommate, who was another alpha like him but apparently hadn’t been taught manners by their parents like Steve had. They were incapable of any volume other than loud even in the middle of the night, always left their room trashed, and brought so many dates back to their dorm room that he had still spent more time back at his Ma’s than he had in his actual dorm. By the end of the year, Steve had been firmly adamant that he would never, not in a million years, ever have a roommate again.

This was, of course, before he’d wound up with his dream job as an animator for Disney, packed himself up and moved to Los Angeles, and discovered that principles were all very well and good but having enough money to eat instead of giving it all to his rent was better.

So now he has Justin.

And while Justin is irritating in ways that have nothing to do with his beta designation—there are already too many tech startups in the world, and Steve doesn’t even know what Justin is doing in L.A. and not, you know, Silicon Valley—and a social climber—if Steve never has to hear one more “that time I met Insert-Celebrity’s-Name-Here” story, it’ll be too soon—and just generally incompetent—they’ve received two noise violations already for explosions that Justin’s “tech” has set off—he isn’t actually that bad of a roommate. Sure, he’s not fantastic, but he doesn’t try to posture with Steve in the apartment (which would be ineffective anyway since Steve is very much an alpha and Justin is, despite his best efforts, very much not), he does generally pick up after himself, and he never brings people back (though Steve isn’t entirely convinced that’s not because he doesn’t want them to see where he actually lives instead of out of any sense of courtesy). Anytime he goes somewhere fancy for a business meeting, he brings back food for Steve, and he even offered Steve the nicer of the two bedrooms because he thought Steve would appreciate the greater amount of natural light (though again, Steve isn’t sure how much of that is altruism and not just that Justin isn’t a morning person).

Truthfully, right up until Justin’s birthday party, Steve might have even said that Justin was a pretty good person.

Up until about a week ago, Justin had been dating… some celebrity omega. Steve is pretty sure that it had come up at some point, and considering his excitement over it, there are probably pap photos of them somewhere, but he tends to tune out all of Justin’s celebrity stories, pretty sure that most of them are fake. There’s only so many times Justin can say that he’d been invited backstage at every Beyoncé concert he’s ever been to before Steve stops believing them. Last week though, Justin’s celebrity boyfriend had broken up with him, citing reasons of Justin being a tool (which, not gonna lie, had made Steve snicker a bit), and he’s been on the warpath ever since.

“Steve! My man! My best friend!” Justin exclaims, leaning up against the doorframe of Steve’s bedroom.

“Nope,” Steve says immediately. It’s not that he has anything against Justin. It’s just that this is the first time he’s been home in forty-eight hours. They’re coming up on the last days before finished scenes need to be turned in, which means that it’s all hands on deck at the studio. Most of the animators who don’t have families have spent the entire time at their desk, and even the ones that do have gone home, given their kids kisses goodnight, and turned right back around. He’s looking forward to sleeping for thirteen straight hours, and Justin’s birthday doesn’t factor even the slightest bit into his plans.

“But you have to come,” Justin whines. “I’ve been telling everyone all about you—” which means he’s been playing up Steve’s job to make him sound like he’s a bigger deal than he is—“and they’re all so excited! Come on, it’s my birthday!”

Steve is, unfortunately, a fundamentally decent person, so he sighs, says goodbye to his thirteen hours of sleep, and goes out to join the party. And despite his exhaustion, it’s not even that bad of a party until someone asks Justin about his celebrity boyfriend—Tony Stark, and how could Steve have forgotten that? Everyone knows who Tony Stark is. He knows who Tony Stark is, and he doesn’t know anyone despite working in the entertainment industry.

“That cheapskate broke up with me,” Justin seethes. “I mentioned it was my birthday once, and he broke up with me instead of spending even a few dollars on a present for me.” Knowing Justin, it was probably more than once and it was probably a completely outrageous present that even the world’s biggest pop star would struggle to afford, because Justin is that kind of irritating, but Steve keeps his mouth shut.

“It’s a shame you don’t have his nudes or something,” the girl who’d brought Tony up says.

Justin blinks at her before a slow smile spreads across his face. “But I do have them. He made me delete them when we broke up but I had a copy saved in a different folder on my phone.”

“Really?” the girl asks interestedly. “You know, he’s never done a nude photoshoot.”

“Yeah, none of his other partners have ever released anything like that,” someone else chimes in. Steve shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t like the direction this is going, but there’s something niggling in the back of his mind, telling him to stick around. “Super weird since he’s dated so many people.”

“You could totally sell them,” the first girl says, warming to her theme. “You’d probably make like a ton of money off of them.”

“I could make some money off of them,” Justin says thoughtfully. “And it would get Hammer Industries’ name out there.”

“But that’s revenge porn.”

#alle writes #stevetony

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silverskull · 10 months

Text

Ohio Laundry Room

Chenford Week 2023

Day 1: Inspired by Canon

Amazingly, this fic covers all three points: (one of my) favourite scenes, canon quotes, and season five song.

Whole work below, but also here on AO3. Comments, reblogs and likes are SO VALUED!

It was a dusty shade of green.

Soft avocado; mushy peas; moss stems gripped and plucked from the bottom of an Ohio peat marsh.

The walls were thick - rough cement blocks stacked close together to provide some sort of dampening to the constant rumble of whirring washers.

She’d thought it was a quake hazard - avoided the little room on purpose, having no need of the facilities thus far into her stay.

Then: “Lock the door first.”

Not what she’d envisioned utilising the meet spot for.

They’d mentioned it before, gone over the blueprints of the apartment complex and the map of the block. Decided it was inconspicuous and secure. Nyla had approved it and Metro had agreed. In case of emergency.

“Meet me at the laundry room.”

Relief had flooded through her when he suggested it, her breath finally slowing down and filling her lungs completely, her heart giving one quick squeeze and relaxing its frantic patter.

He’d had incident reports to sign, and she got there first, running into the apartment and peeling off the elegant jumpsuit she’d worn to dinner. Glass had settled in the folds of fabric and now tinkled to the ground as she stripped, sticking to her bare feet like lopseed burrs while she hopped out of one leg, then the other. Her night clothes were nearest - a soft hoodie and some yoga pants - and, once she’d dressed, she pulled the hood up close around her neck while watching out the window for his lights.

She’d made him sleep on it - the hoodie - her last night at home.

He’d rolled his eyes and pointed out the pesky lumps of metal on the end of the strings and along the zipper, but even as he said it, he tossed it on the bed, sitting on top of it and pulling her hips in close. She’d laced her hands around his neck and bumped his nose with her own.

“They’re called ‘aglets’.”

He’d had no interest in her trivia, kissing her mouth closed with smiling lips, knocking her knees out from under her and rolling her into the bed with him instead.

She could still just smell him along the seams of the hood, and she inhaled deeply, squeezing her arms against her chest to prolong the scent.

His headlights lit the sidewalk as he turned into her street, pulling into a space in front of the railings. She didn’t wait to see him get out, hurrying to toss some vests and fabric softener into a basket.

He was already folding jeans when she burst in the door. She recognised them too - a pile he’d packed and thrown in the trunk the last time they’d stayed at his house, ready to add to his slowly expanding set of clothing in her bedroom dresser.

But his jeans were just a fleeting thought and she discarded the basket as rapidly as she could, dashing into his arms and burying her nose in his neck.

“That was really scary.”

It was hard to separate the layers of the four words.

That was really scary…

I thought I’d die.

I thought you’d die.

I thought he’d take me away.

I thought they’d take you away.

I thought you’d crack and come looking for me.

I wanted you to come looking for me. (I didn’t want you to come, either.)

I saw you past the gunfire, your face lit up through the windshield by the streetlights: I saw how frightened you were.

I nearly didn’t look away from you in time.

I miss you so. much.

“Yeah, I ‘bout had a heart attack.”

She could still feel his heart against her own, hammering away in his chest, the rapid pulse in his neck at odds with the reserved stillness she’d seen him wear like a mask.

His hands covered the full expanse of her back and she wanted to melt into him, sink into his skin like warm chocolate.

Business first though, and he tried - he really tried - two or three times. But she could see the way his eyes flicked fretfully around her face, his hands twitching at his sides as he restrained himself from reaching for her. He sounded like he was talking about the case, but it kept coming back to her, to her… her control, her boundaries, her safety.

He trusted her beyond doubt - her skill and expertise and ability - but the shooting had shaken something loose and he was struggling to reign himself in. She could see the momentary release he’d had from holding her undoing as she spoke, his arms and neck tightening with anxiety, his shoulders curving under the weight of his fear.

It wasn’t what she’d planned on saying, or doing.

But it was out there, and when she’d said it, she knew it was exactly what both of them needed.

“Lock the door first.”

She didn’t have to ask him twice.

And as the ash-green wall burst into stars before her eyes, she dug her fingers into the warm skin of his back, his hair rough and sweat streaked between her breasts, and one thought lit up her mind like a firework.

It didn’t matter where they were - laundry room or private jet or his tiny office at the station - because everywhere was better when they were together.

And she always wanted to be with him.

Because she was in love with him.

#ChenfordWeek23 #my fic #chenford

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alagaesia-headcanons · 5 months

Text

I have a proper update for Clear Horizons!

(For my new followers, here's an explanation of this fic!)

I've finally finished drafting the section that was giving me the most trouble!!! I'm not entirely out of the woods yet, but it's a significant and gratifying mark of progress. The part I'm working on is after Murtagh and Orrin first meet, but before a scene I've planned where their relationship takes a turn and reaches a new understanding. So in that span they have a lot of chemistry and care for each other but they're also still hesitant and guarded. It's a very tricky dynamic to write. It still needs more depth, I haven't gotten to that emotional development scene yet, but I'm now finished with the first week Murtagh spends in Aberon with Orrin.

My main breakthrough with the frustrations I was having with that was to cut two of the scenes I already wrote and move them to a later point in the story. Then I reconsidered what I wanted the first week to cover. The writing progress went especially slow, even by my standards, and the section ended much longer than I expected it too. But I think both were worthwhile. This section is crucial for laying a lot of the foundation everything else will build upon. The prolonged time I spent with each piece gave me the room to untangle the needs of the story and the detail throughout numerous consecutive scenes gives clarity to the major cornerstones. (I pray I'll still feel that way when I go back to edit it later lol)

I optimistically think the pace will pick back up again when I carry on with the rest of act 2. This should be one of the only continuous spans of time that's fully rendered out with such intensive and thorough detail. I think just two other points in the story might get a similar treatment. I'm approaching the rest with a more selective focus that helps move the story along.

I have a plan for how I should proceed now, which has numerous parts. First and foremost with concerns to Clear Horizons, I'm going to take the opportunity to pause writing the actual fic and shift back to note taking, with the goal of hammering out Thorn's character arc. Unlike my last desperate bout of note taking, I've been prepared to tackle this from the outset. In this whole process, Thorn has been by far the hardest part for me, for a myriad reasons. It's very important to me to give him a character arc with meaningful significance to the story, and initially I had no idea how to accomplish that, but I realized that I had to start without it if I wanted to start at all. So I drafted all of act 1 aware that I still needed to figure out my intentions for Thorn and I would have to add in more writing to integrate that.

I can tell this is the right time to do that. I'm glad I didn't let it stop me from jumping in; it feels more approachable now then it did then. I still anticipate that it'll be very tricky, but now I have some ideas to guide me and I believe I can do this. I also hope it will fill out some of the other gaps in the plans I do have. My last note taking stint helped a lot with the other main character arcs. Orrin's specifically is the strongest right now, I think it's in a really good pace. Murtagh's is far improved, though it feels like it still has some pieces missing. As I wrestle with Thorn, I'm going to pay close attention to how that can contribute to Murtagh's arc because they naturally should weigh on each other quite a lot. I hope figuring out my intentions with Thorn will provide much of the connective tissue I'm missing right now.

Before continuing with the main writing, I'd also like to edit the rest of act 1 that I haven't gotten to yet. It's a pretty arduous process, but I know it wouldn't be smart to put it off much longer. It's very valuable and I should at least edit up to the last section of act 1. It might be more effective to wait on that one because I think it will be overhauled the most after Thorn is properly added to the equation.

There are some other things I want to add in act 1 too. While making those notes, I recognized key aspects of both Murtagh and Orrin that deserve more exploration. I plan to take the first two sections, one about each of them, and divide them both in half so there's four sections, then I can add those details throughout them. I think it will also improve the pacing. That's currently not my priority, so I don't know if I'll do that before returning to writing progress, but it's in the plans.

On a different track, I want to take a small break before getting back to that grind. For a significant length of time now, Clear Horizons has held my attention largely uninterrupted. It's eclipses my other creative impulses. I don't feel like that's inherently bad, I often set aside my other interests for a while to pursue inspiration for a certain thing. But given how long I think Clear Horizons will take, even from this point, I don't want to do that the whole time. It's already been a long time since I've drawn anything, and longer still since I've worked with clay. I have a stretch of time off around Christmas and I think I'm going to force myself to not work on writing during that and enjoy other things. Since I have quite limited free time in my day to day, part of me gets frustrated feeling like having a lot of time and not using it to work on this is a waste. I need to remind myself that a project like this is not a sprint, it's a marathon, and taking breaks will benefit me in the end.

(There's a very high chance I'll make some Eragon related art anyway lol. And also Hubert. Maybe I'll show you guys Hubert.)

I also hope the mental break will push me to answer the asks people have sent me too! I'm sorry it's taken so long, I promise I won't forget! Clear Horizons honestly has been the biggest distraction from that. That being said, since it occupies so much of my mind, I always adore taking about it. Of course I still welcome all kinds of asks, but especially anything about Murtagh, Orrin, them together, or my fic specifically- and I'll also probably answer any of those right away because I seriously can't resist lmao (This isn't a headcanon blog anymore but this ship is the sole exception, I have so many feelings)

I really hope you guys will love this when it's finally complete. Part of me is nervous, but I'm doing my best to trust that the act of putting so much devotion into it will shine through on the other side ❤️

#clear horizons chatter #eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #orrin #yall this is Long ahdjdhsjfk #if you read it all youre a real one #ill also be considering how to share more wip content going forward!#(justice for hubert)

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hollybell51 · 2 years

Text

First kiss

Series masterlist, masterpost

Minho x fem!Reader

Maze Runner (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 862

Summary: it’s your first day training as a runner, and it’s just your luck that you run into a Griever. Luckily, Minho knows how to deal with this stuff.

Content: chase scene, kiss, romantic confession, cringey John-Greene-esque dialogue (which is kinda there in all my fics if I’m being honest)

Notes: I really didn’t appreciate Minho as much as I should have when I first read/watched the Maze Runner

Your feet pounded against the stone floor of the Maze, and you took another turn, mentally noting the direction. Ahead of you, Minho stopped, leaning against the wall and pulling a wrapped sandwich from his pack.

“Lunch time?” you asked, jogging up to him.

“Yeah, we need a break.”

Gratefully, you slid down the wall, pulling your own sandwich out and unwrapping it.

“So what do you think so far?” Minho asked, and you swallowed a bite, nodding.

“It’s just as great as I thought it would be.” You grinned, looking sideways at him. You’d wanted to be a runner since you’d first arrived in the Maze, and you’d finally managed to convince Minho to train you. The only thing was, it was a little awkward given that you liked him, a lot.

He snorted, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“What’s so funny?” you said, and he shook his head.

“Nothing, you’re just cute when you’re happy about something.” That made you blush, although your face was probably already red from running all morning.

“Should we get going?” you said, just to change the subject.

“You haven’t’ even finished your sandwich,” he pointed out, eyeing the offending piece of food in your hand.

Quickly, you finished it off, dusting your hands and getting up. “Now?”

“Yeah, ok, since you’re so eager.”

You’d only run a few hundred metres when Minho stopped, holding out an arm for you to do the same.

“What is it?” you breathed, peaking around his shoulder. He held a finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction of the corridor. In front of you, just around a bend, was a Griever. You stopped yourself from cursing out loud, although you came pretty close.

“What do we do?” You asked softly.

“We back away, slowly and quietly as we can, then run.” Minho took your hand, pulling you back along the corridor with him. You tried not to make any sound, but you were sure the Griever could hear your hammering heart anyway.

About five metres back, Minho turned, pulling you with him and breaking into a sprint. You followed, pumping your legs as hard and fast as you could. You could hear the Griever coming after you, metal clinking against stone and the mechanical whirs of its engine echoing off the walls of the Maze.

You tripped on a stone, but recovered, running on, following where Minho went. The Griever was getting closer, its horrible sounds getting louder.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” Minho yelled, looking over his shoulder at you, “We can make it!”

You didn’t reply, just kept running.

After a series of sharp turns and twists, you realised where you were. Ahead, the corridor ended in a vast expanse of nothing, gaping as if to swallow anyone should they run to close.

“When I say, jump left.” Minho told you, standing in the middle of the corridor.

“Ok.” You could see what he meant to do.

The Griever came whirring and clanking around the corner, its metal appendages snapping and spinning as it hurtled towards you.

“Minho…” you said, it was getting really close.

“Hold it…” He watched the Griever drawing closer calmly, calculating the distance.

“Minho…” you said again, it was too close.

“Just a second… Now!”

You hurled yourself sideways, the Griever passing you with an inch to spare. You turned, watching it jump over the cliff, then it disappeared. You must have been seeing things, probably a product of the stress.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your hands shaking.

“Are you ok?” Minho ran across the corridor to you, checking you for injuries.

“Yeah,” you said, painfully aware of how close he was and the tremor in your voice, “yeah, I’m ok, you?”

“I’m fine, as long as you’re ok.”

Your heart skipped a beat, or maybe it was just the near miss you just had. You could feel the heat from his body and his warm breath on your face, that was how close you were standing. “I…” you started, but your voice failed you. If I moved an inch, you thought, I could kiss him. Then you cursed yourself for having the thought, it was hardly the time or place.

His hand moved from your shoulder to your face, and you realised just how sweaty and gross you both were. It didn’t matter. Hesitantly, carefully, Minho leaned down, pressing his lips against yours.

Oh, was all your brain could come up with. You returned the kiss, your heart beating just as hard as when you saw the Griever, except this time it was a good kind of fast.

You kissed for quite a while, probably way longer than is appropriate, but you weren’t complaining. Eventually, you drew away, looking up at him.

He smiled, a faint pink tinge colouring his cheeks. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you how I feel about you and ask you to be my girlfriend?” he said wryly, and you laughed.

“Yeah, might be a good time.”

“So,” he looked around, “I think you’re an amazing person, absolutely stunning, and I really, really like you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you said, “yes Minho, I would love to be your girlfriend. And by the way,” you added, “I really, really like you too.”

#the maze runner #maze runner #maze runner fanfiction #maze runner oneshot #minho maze runner #minho #minho x reader #minho x you #reader insert #fem!reader #Self Insert #self insert fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #first kiss

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yjwhatif · 1 year

Text

Okay, so this is probably gonna be 💩 and definitely out of character but it’s an idea that popped into my head that I wanted to try write… I have no idea how it reads - I’ve never tried doing a fic before - so this may well be my first and the last attempt 🤷‍♀️ but, I thought it’s New Year’s Eve and it’s something to add to the list of things I never expected to do this year…

Also, I’m gonna try to get another post out before, but I know what I’m like and if I don��t, I just wanna wish everyone a happy new year and thank anyone who’s spared any time/energy into supporting this blog - whether that’s reading, liking, sending comments, anything - I love and appreciate it all so much! So thank you and here’s the fic (which is yet to be named, it’s set post Phantoms and I don’t know what you’d class it as… angst? Let’s just say it’s not fluff - in case you wanted a heads up…) LB

Here goes…

Star city. 11:23 pm. It had been raining for hours. That loud heavy kind of rain that could be heard over even the highest of volumes. Literally the only thing hearable was the rain and it showed no sign of stopping soon. There was no ignoring it. No avoiding it. Even for the most focused of minds. Rain one. Grading nill. She may have been formidable in a fight but Artemis knew when she’d been bested in battle…

“Fine, fine - you win - I will go to bed.”

She said to the air.

“Come on Brucley, let’s… go?”

Brucley had gone to bed hours ago. All who lived there were long since asleep there and it was nature's desire for the final resident to seek her slumber too…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Though it seemed someone else had a differing desire…

“Bart?”

There at the door, the boy stood soaking. Drips dropping and hair sopping. Drenched all the way through to his skin. Had he walked there? It was hardly the appropriate time or setting for a leisurely stroll across the country. Though it was a trip he had been making more and more within the recent weeks. But never as late as this…

“Can I stay on your couch for a bit?”

And never overnight. The answer she had was obvious. But his need for such an arrangement was a cause for concern…

“…Come on, I'll get you a towel.”

And coffee… this was definitely going to require coffee.

11:45pm. The scene was set… It was silent… for what must have been the first time that night in fact. Or that was how it seemed at least. In reality, it wasn't truly silent of course. The rain still drowned the streets outside. But even that had hushed its hammering as if waiting to hear how the play would proceed. It wasn’t the only one. At the table sat the pair. One drinking coffee. The other cocoa. One sat watching. The other avoiding. Both waiting for the other to make the first move. Instead, there was silence. Solid and sharp. The only thing to cut through it was the click of Artemis’s fingernails tapping rhythmically upon the tabletop. It was something to listen to but it was hardly a melodic beat. It was the ticking of a clock. The falling of the sands. It was a waiting beat which promised it would not wait forever. And forever it did not.

“So… what happened?”

”Same thing that keeps happening…”

His mood was grim. Grumbling the words instead of speaking them. The tides within him swelled at their topmost heights. The dam was full. The floodgates had remained holding (for now) but the trickles were seeping through. It wouldn’t take much for the seal to crack and release the spill.

“He won’t let me do anything anymore… It’s so moded!”

“I bet…”

She played along…

“And now I’m grounded - again - for nothing!”

”Nothing, huh? Wow, I don't even think my parents were that cruel.”

It was a statement filled with implications that weren’t supposed to be liked… and liked, Bart did not. He may have been frustrated with his elder but never enough to endorse such a comparison… even if he was totally aware of the game she was playing with him…

“Okay, soo it might not have totally been nothing exactly…”

All she did was strike him a look. The look. Piercing and inescapable… even for one as fast as him…

“There's a slight chance I may have missed curfew…”

And just like that, the cascades came surging through.

“But it wasn’t my fault!”

“Of course not.”

It never was…

“It wasn't! I went to the movies with Ed and the others over in Hollywood and... you know what it's like with timezones - who has time to keep track of those?!”

“Someone with a central time curfew Bart, that's who.”

“Ugh, but it’s 9 o’clock! 9 o’clock! Who has a 9 o’clock curfew - other than like, 5-year-olds… seriously, Lian has a 9 o’clock curfew!”

“No, she doesn't.”

“Whatever... the point is, it's stupid and it totally ruined everything!”

”Oh come on Bart, I'm sure it wasn't that good a movie. You can always go see it again later.”

“What? No - I'm not talking about the movie - I don't even care about the movie! I'm talking about Ed!”

“Ed?”

“Yea, and the fact that he was there, actually sat next to me and not avoiding me like he has been for weeks…

There was more hidden beneath the depths than she’d initially realised…

“I swear, he was this close to holding my hand in there… just like before…”

“…I didn't realise you two were having problems—?”

“We're not!”

He spat back. She’d clearly hit a nerve.

“Everything's fine! There's nothing to worry about - I've got it all under control… or at least I did, until I look over and see Jay standing there in the actual theatre, staring right at me with that look that he always seems to wear these days... next thing I know, he’s practically dragging me out of there in front of everyone… have you any idea how embarrassing that was… and it was totally uncalled for!”

“I’m sure he wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Sure he was - he hates me!”

“He doesn't hate you Bart.”

“No… but he certainly won't trust me anymore…”

From under his breath, those words had come. Artemis had heard every one and with them, the silence returned to the scene. This time abrupt and without warning. She knew what she wanted to say to him. It was what she’d wanted to say for a while now. But she also knew it wasn't the best time for it to be said. The boy who sat ahead of her could seem such a source of light in even the darkest of moments. Always a clever comment to contribute. A smile to give. He really did remind her of his cousin sometimes… just a bit… in his own kind of way. And like his cousin, she also knew just how stubborn he was capable of being… when he wanted to be.

“What?“

“Well… can you really blame him for that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Bart, you snuck off into space without telling anyone and then went missing for over two weeks.”

“I came back!”

He threw the words at her like they should be sufficient in settling the matter… his first mistake.

“Yeah, wrapped in bandages.”

“… I was—“

“Fine? Sure.”

“Well, I was! So there was no need to worry—”

“That's not for you to decide Bart…”

At the point of no return, there was no more holding back. She had things to say to him and it was about time he heard them said.

“You can’t just disappear and expect no one to notice… not anymore.”

He didn’t want to hear this. That she also knew.

“Because they did, Bart, they noticed, and they weren’t fine about it… Jay wasn’t fine, Ed wasn’t fine, Jaime, your friends, your team, your family… None of us were fine.”

Everything about him screamed silently for swift release. His eyes away watching anything that wasn't her. But his ears stayed stuck. Sealed to the sounds she spouted. They refused to move. To disconnect. To let him escape… his second mistake.

“You have a lot of people here who care about you, kid… People who worry when they don’t know where you are.”

“I can take care of myself!”

It was unclear who he was trying to convince more… Artemis or himself.

“That doesn’t matter… You know the life we live in, just like the rest of us, and like the rest of us, you know the evil that exists within it, you know the sacrifices that have been made, the tragedies we’ll never be able to forget… and for all we knew, you were about to become another one of those tragedies, another hologram…”

In a haze of forgotten memory, those words repeated. They cast him back and in front of his elder, he was returned. Head to head and heart to heart. It was only them. Them and those words. Those words and his. A promise… a lie.

“…I don’t want any more holograms…”

“…Jay… I’m not going anywhere…”

He lied. The man had trusted him and he lied… that was his biggest mistake.

“Take it from a girl who got her very own hologram once upon a time… there's a cost to deceit - no matter how major the lie or vital the cause… for those left out of the loop, loss isn’t easily forgotten and trust isn’t easily fixed…”

At that, his eye returned to hers. For the first time that night, they converged completely. They were pools filling. Glazing. But hadn’t yet fallen. Never before had she seen the rain drop upon his cheeks. Even after all the storms he'd weathered. Now was no different. He was stubborn that way.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You do the work - for as long as it takes until that trust is regained… and then, you don’t screw up by doing it again!”

It was almost laughable how fast his face dropped at that. The softness in his eye solidified into a scowl of sheer sulkishness.

“Don’t give me that look! I said you could have my couch, not my sympathy…”

But the mood didn't lift. All in his face only dropped further. He was somewhere else. Stuck on something else. Something he couldn't see.

“He’ll come around, you’ve just gotta meet him halfway.”

“I hope so…”

“He loves you Bart… and luckily, love isn't something that's easily lost… no matter how parted you feel.”

With that, her own mind wandered slightly. It was her sign to get moving. So she allowed the words to sink in as she cleared the scene of their long dried-out mugs. Leaving him to ponder whatever thoughts he had brewing within.

“…I should probably call him, tell him where I am…”

“I already did…”

Her hand planted a reassuring grip on his tensed shoulder before she continued.

“He knows you’re here…”

With that Bart was jolted back into the present. Such a reveal was unexpected. Jay had known and never forced him back home. He never called or kicked up a fuss. He was actually allowing Bart the space he wanted… Or was the man just so tired of the trouble that he was glad for the space he was getting… The quiet returned as the boy's mind flooded once again. Drowning him deep below his doubts. Beneath the regrets. The questions. The what ifs. The possibilities and probabilities. Everything except the solid solution to get him back in control again. The something which would keep him afloat before the rising tides finally pull him under.

“I’m gonna head up…”

Artemis‘s words cut their way through the fog of his contemplation.

“You know where everything is, right?”

His head nodded but his mind remained elsewhere. It was there in his eyes. They were distant. Drained. He was trying to fight something. Something he wouldn’t let her see. Something he couldn't escape. And it was pulling him under. Below the depths and into the darkness no one was allowed to witness.

“Bart… do try and get some sleep, okay? Things will still be there for you to work out tomorrow.”

There was acknowledgement in his eyes but still, no words accompanied them. It was late. Very late. It was so late even the rain had gotten tired as there remained but a drizzle upon the window panes. There was little more Artemis could do for the night. It was up to Bart to find his next step forward. Though for now, the only thing they both truly needed was sleep. Time to rest their heads and escape the thinking for a bit. But whether sleep would come was another matter entirely. With a little luck, nature would take its charge and finally pull them both into the desired solace of slumber. But for that quits must be called. She must finally make her retreat to the sheets which have long awaited her settle. And with a little hope, the lad lost in his thoughts might follow suit. Finding his relief in the couch cushions instead of a fix-all solution he yet couldn't see… but for her, that remained to be seen…

Despite the end's arrival the scene still felt unfinished. Something was missing. Yet there was nothing more to be said. Nothing more from her lips at least…

“…Hey Artemis?”

The words halted her departure.

“Thanks… y’know… for letting me use your couch.”

With that, his face cracked its first smile of the night. It wasn't one of real brightness or longevity. It was shallow and slight. But it gleamed a hint of the him she's gotten so used to seeing. Something of noticeable absence throughout the night. It was a smile which suggested she hadn't totally lost him to those dark depths of his mind. And it was a welcomed sight to end their night.

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

With her own smile, her goodnights were said. And away she went. Finally making good on the word she’d made a whirlwind ago.

“Night Brucley.”

…

#happy new year #young justice #yj #young justice phantoms #bart allen #artemis crock #jay garrick #eduardo dorado jr #my fic #yj fanfic #long post

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