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justagalwhowrites · 2 months

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Yearling - Ch. 34: Anything

You're left behind in Jackson when Joel goes on overnight patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-33 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 9.2k

A/N: We are heading into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

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September, 2013

The gunshot made you jump.

It was distant but sharp, the crack jarring against the quiet of your cabin. Marisa’s head shot up from her book, a frown on her face in the flickering firelight.

“Was that…”

“Shhh,” you sat up from where you’d been lying against her, held a hand out to her, ear perked and listening. Another crack, a little louder this time. You set your book down and went to the front window, drawing the curtains and pinning them shut so no light from the fire would slip through.

“What…”

“Stay here,” you said, your heart pounding as you got your rifle off the wall.

“You’re not going out there!” She shot up, her eyes wide.

“Not gonna sit here and wait for whoever that is to show up at our door,” you replied, grabbing a flashlight, too.

“Well, I’m going with you,” she said, going to get her gun, too.

“No,” you said, grabbing a saddle bag with ammunition and turning to face her.

“Yes, I am,” she narrowed her eyes at you but there was a tremble of fear in her voice, her rifle clutched tightly in her hand.

“No,” you said quietly, reaching out and gently taking her face in your hand. “You’re not. You’re staying here to look after Savannah…”

“But what if something happens to you?” Her eyes searched yours, wide and frantic. “You’re her mom, not me. I can’t be that for her like that, just… stay here, we’ll figure it out if they find us just…”

“Not lettin’ them that close to the two of you, baby,” you said, brushing your thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. You kissed her gently. Her eyes were wet. “I’ll be back soon. But… if I’m not, take care of Savannah for me.”

You didn’t wait for a response, going to jump on Nike, not bothering with a saddle. You were too afraid to take the time, you had to protect the people who had become your home. You couldn’t lose them, you couldn’t let anyone take them away, you had to make sure they were safe.

There was another gunshot and you followed the sound, your heart racing, eventually finding a man with two infected nearly ripping him apart. You shot them quickly, the man’s fearful gasps loud in the night.

“Fuck,” he panted as you turned on the flashlight, shining it around the nearby forest. You caught a glimpse of another infected on the ground about 20 feet away before turning the light on him. He was limp on the ground, his eyes wide. “I think I’m bit, I think… I think they got me.”

You knelt beside him and looked at his exposed skin. There was a vicious bite on his hand, the flesh already looking sick and wrong and so like Justin’s bite all those years ago.

You sighed.

“Yeah, you are. I can make it quick for you, if you’d like. Can’t let you leave here, though. You can wait ’til you turn, if you’d rather.”

He blinked a few times, staring up at the dark canopy of trees as moonlight filtered through the leaves.

“Just do it,” he said, turning his eyes to you, cocking his head slightly. “Is it just you out here?”

“Kind of,” you said. “Got my girlfriend, my daughter. No one else, though.”

He looked back to the sky and nodded.

“That’s good,” he said. “It’s hard, being alone. Been alone for a few months now, wife got bit back in June. Should’ve just ended it then, don’t know why I waited this long.”

You nodded slowly. You understood that. You stood up again, rifle in your hand. The man’s eyes were still wide, looking up at the trees.

“Here OK?” You asked. “Might be able to get you somewhere you can see the sky…”

“No point,” he said, still staring up. “Just do it.”

His eyes refocused, looking at you.

“And thank you. Know it’s not easy.”

You aimed the gun at his head and he went back to looking at the trees.

“I’m sorry it’s endin’ like this,” you said. “Hope you get to be with your wife again.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”

You took a deep breath, pulled the trigger and he was gone.

You stayed for a little while after, waiting to see if there were any clickers that would come for the noise you’d been making but none showed up. You realized you didn’t even know the man’s name. You were the last person he spoke to and you didn’t know his name.

You cleaned the blood off your hands as best you could and made your way back home, Nike moving slowly through the trees and you didn’t rush her. When you opened the door, Marisa damn near knocked you down, you barely catching her as she threw herself at you.

“You’re OK,” her voice was thick and wet and she clung to you for a moment before pulling back to look in your eyes. “I was so scared, I heard more gunshots, I didn’t know…”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said gently, kissing her, her lips plush and soft on yours. “Didn’t mean to scare you…”

You got cleaned up and took her to bed and made her come on your fingers before she had to swallow the desperate sounds of your orgasm to keep from waking the baby. You held her close after, telling her what happened in the forest, that you’d go bury the body in the morning and do a check for infected, that she was safe here with you.

“I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” she said quietly, toying with your fingers, her breath warm on your skin as she lay her head on your chest.

You scoffed.

“Don’t feel very brave. I was scared shitless the whole time, thought my damn heart was going to beat out of my chest.”

“Oh baby,” she whispered, adjusting so her face was over yours, the light of the moon making her dark skin glow. “That’s what makes you brave, that you’re scared and you do it anyway. You don’t let the fear own you. That’s why you’re going to make it through all this, I just know it.”

You hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing, just wanting her close again. She rested her head on your chest again and you gave her a squeeze, focusing on how she felt against you as she fell asleep.

It didn’t really matter if it was bravery or not, you supposed. If it kept the people you loved most alive, you could push past the fear. Life wouldn’t matter without them, you would do anything if it meant it would protect them.

Anything.

May, 2028

“No way.”

You cleaned the last of the gunk out from Shimmer’s back left hoof and set the pick down.

“Bambi,” Ellie drew out your hame, whining it. “Please? I swear, I’ll owe you forever…”

“I am not coming out to your dad for you,” you grabbed the file. “Absolutely not.”

“But…”

“Ellie,” you looked up to her as she perched on a stall in the barn. “No. That’s not something you just do for someone else. If you want Joel to know you’re gay you need to be the one to tell him, I can’t do that for you.”

“But why not!” She pouted. “You already know and you get it and you can help him get it and…”

“I’ll help you do it,” you cut her off. “I can be there when you tell him, I can intervene if he reacts badly - which he won’t - but I’m not doing it for you.”

“That’s bullshit,” she huffed. “I don’t want to tell him…”

“Then don’t,” you shrugged, finishing filing the hoof down and getting the next horseshoe ready to go on. “Live the rest of your life in the closet if that’s what you want to do.”

“But that’s not what I want.”

“Then tell him,” you shrugged again. “Those are your options, kiddo, hate to break it to you.”

“You know, straight people don’t have to come out,” she kicked at the stall post. “This is dumb.”

“That I can agree with,” you said. “But, unfortunately, that’s not the way the world works. If you want to be out, you need to come out. It sucks but that’s the way of things.”

Ellie sighed and crossed her arms, leaning her head on the post at her back.

“Do you really think I should?” She asked.

You shrugged.

“I think you have a father who loves you more than life itself,” you said. “And I think he’s also a man who has proven that he really does not care what a person’s sexuality is, given that he’s married to me. I think you should do what feels right but you should know that Joel is going to love you to pieces regardless.”

She sighed again.

“You’re right…”

“Usually am.”

She glared at you before going back to staring straight ahead.

“I just don’t know why I’m so freaked out about it.”

You shrugged.

“It’s a big deal. You’re telling him ‘hey this person you think I am? I’m actually different than that.’ It’s hard.”

She considered you for a moment.

“Did you come out to your parents?” She asked.

You laughed.

“No, I did not,” you said. “Never had the chance. I would have eventually, I think. But I was about your age when the world ended and it felt a lot safer to hide it from my parents when I was that age. I lived far away and they weren’t as… open to other ideas as Joel is.”

Ellie scoffed.

“I mean it,” you said. “They had a hard enough time handling the fact that I wanted to get thrown off horses for a living. They’d have had a hell of a time understanding why I was bringing a girl home for dinner. You know Joel ain’t that way. All he cares about is that you’re safe and happy. Everything else don’t really matter.”

You finished shoeing Shimmer and set her hoof down. She twitched her tail and chuffed in response.

“Can you at least tell Joel you gave me…” She scrunched her nose in disgust. “The talk?”

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, that I can do,” you said. “I’ll tell him I told you everything you need to know. Which is be smart about who you take your clothes off with and if a man ever tries anything, cut his dick off.”

She barked a laugh.

“Yeah, that I can handle,” she said. “I can’t believe he thought someone needed to talk to me about sex…”

You were less surprised about that fact than Ellie, but then, you had the full context.

You’d been watching Savvy and Kyle from what you hoped was a respectful distance, giving her the chance to fall for a boy in the way you always wanted her to be able to. But there was the other part of that, too. You knew what teenagers were like and, while Savvy knew about sex, you’d never given her the sex talk in the context of her being around boys. She had questions about seeing animals mating when she was a girl and you’d answered them and explained that humans worked much the same way. She’d scrunched her face in disgust and you laughed a little, not bothering to tell her that, one day, that was going to be damn near all she was interested in doing.

But that had come with the knowledge that, in all likelihood, it would be years - if not decades - before she even had the opportunity to find someone she wanted to do that with. You figured you’d update things as she got older or when there was a person she was interested in.

Now, the time had come. You just weren’t sure how ready you were for that. You’d gone to Joel for advice about it, feeling like you were flying particularly blind in this arena.

“Shit, baby, been a long time since I’ve had that conversation,” he said as he traced abstract little patterns over your bare skin. “Tryin’ to even remember how I brought it up with Sarah now… My face was burnin’ up the whole time, that much I know.”

“There were perks to being hermits,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. “Didn’t have to worry about my kid getting knocked up as a teenager for one.”

“Mmm,” Joel hummed in agreement. “Least she has boys to flirt with now.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” you muttered but smiled against his skin all the same.

“I can talk to her with you if you think it’ll help,” he said.

“Let me give it a shot on my own,” you sighed. “See if she will actually listen to me. If she doesn’t, I’ll call in the reinforcements.”

Savvy had, mercifully, been at least open to the conversation.

“I already know this stuff, Mom,” she’d rolled her eyes, arms crossed as she sat on the couch.

“You know the biology of it,” you said. “But it’s… different. You’re older now, there are going to be feelings you have that you want to act on…”

“Ugh!” She buried her face in the arm of the couch. “Please don’t!”

“You’re young,” you said. “Too young to really understand the risks. Do you feel like you’re ready to raise a child?”

“No!” She pulled her head up. “Obviously not!”

“Then you shouldn’t be having sex right now,” you shrugged. “That’s the risk. Not to mention that there are a lot of emotions that come up when you do that with someone, it can complicate relationships and you’re too young to figure that out on your own…”

“I’m not a baby,” she practically scowled at you. “I can handle emotions!”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” you said gently. “I’m saying that adult relationships are complicated for adults and, as grown up as you might think you are, you’re still a kid. I understand that you might want to feel close with someone and, honestly, there’s not much I can do to stop you. But I want you to understand what you’re risking if you go that route and I want you to not let anyone pressure you into it, even if it’s someone you care about. OK?”

“Alright, jeez!” She groaned. “Can we stop talking now? Please?”

After that conversation, though, Joel became worried about how much time Ellie was spending with Jesse.

“Never really thought about what she did or didn’t learn in the QZ,” Joel said gruffly that night when it was just the two of you. “What if she don’t know how to keep herself safe?”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about,” you said, trying to avoid telling Joel exactly why he didn’t need to worry.

“Would you be OK talkin’ with her for me?” He’d winced as he asked it. “Feel like you’re her mom, think she’d be a little more… receptive to it coming from another woman.”

You’d said yes more to buy time than anything else.

You weren’t thrilled about the idea of lying to your husband but you could tap dance around the truth of it well enough. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

“While you’re trying to decide whether or not you want to tell your dad,” you said, getting up to lead Shimmer to her stall. “Think I’m going to call in that favor you owe me…”

“What favor?” She demanded. “You’re not telling him for me!”

“No,” you shook your head. “But I’m also not telling him that I didn’t give you the talk and he needs to do it himself…”

“Jesus…”

“So,” you continued. “Can I ask you to keep a closer eye on Savvy while Joel is out on patrol the next few days? She’s still… more comfortable talking with him than with me. Want to make sure she’s doin’ OK…”

“Of course I will,” she said, relaxing a little. “You know, I still think…”

“Ellie.”

“I’m just saying!” She said. “I know she’s doing her best to move past shit, she really is, but it would be a lot easier if she knew what she was actually moving past, that’s all I’m saying.”

“She’s getting there,” you said, giving Shimmer a scratch. “You don’t understand this yet but it’s hard when you know you can’t protect your child from everything. I can protect her from this.”

“Whatever you say,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the mess hall. As far as Joel knows, you’ve talked to me, right?”

“Right,” you said. “Feel free to act all awkward and lay it on real thick…”

“Alright, bye,” she rolled her eyes and stalked off and you laughed, watching her leave.

It was good to see Ellie acting like she normally did. You knew she was worried about Joel going out on a longer patrol, too.

You were trying not to panic about it. It was time. Consciously, you knew that. He was ready for it, his body as healed as it would ever be. He still had a bit of a limp - one you knew he tried to disguise when he thought you were watching - but he was fully capable. You’d seen it on patrol with him the two times you’d gone, the second one thankfully far less eventful than the first.

He’d since gone out just him and Tommy, never going too far from Jackson. It still made you nervous, even though he always came back whole and well. You always clung to him when he got back and he let you, holding you against him, a hand running soothingly up and down your spine as he did.

But this was his first overnight patrol. He was going to be gone for a few days on a route that had been calm lately, you knew you didn’t have much reason to worry. That didn’t make it much easier.

“What’s got those wheels turnin’?”

Joel’s voice made you jump as you brushed Shimmer down in her stall. He was leaning against the entrance to the stable, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you, his denim shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“Who said they were?” You asked, giving the horse a final brush before leaving the stall and walking up to your husband, your own arms crossed over your chest. He smiled and quirked his jaw, shaking his head ever so slightly. “What brings you here, cowboy?”

“Tryin’ to get my wife all to myself for a bit,” he said. “Think I can entice you away from the mess hall for the evening?”

“I dunno,” you stepped closer. “What’d you have in mind?”

He shrugged.

“Just have to see.”

You laughed, dropping your arms and the pretense.

“Lead the way.”

He draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in to kiss your temple before walking slowly back to your house. When you stopped to think about it, it still struck you as funny that it was your house and that you thought of it that way and not as Joel’s place. But you did, it was the place you’d made your life together, feeling more like you belonged here than you had almost anywhere else you had ever lived.

When you got in the door, there was a small bouquet of wildflowers in a glass in the middle of the kitchen table, a table that was set for dinner for two. You looked at him, brows raised in surprise.

“What’s this?”

He shrugged, a sly smile on his face.

“Wanted a night in with my girl. Might have talked my way into a steak or two. Think you take yours… medium rare, right?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I do.”

“Well,” he pulled you in for a long, deep kiss. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and when you’re done, there’ll be a medium-rare steak waitin’ here for ya.”

“Think I can be convinced,” you smiled against his mouth before kissing him again. “Feel like you’re butterin’ me up or something here…”

“Just tryin’ to make sure you remember why you’re married to me while I’m gone,” he said. “Try to keep you from getting too fed up with my shit…” You laughed and he smiled. “Go on so I can get this going, you’re too distracting standing this close.”

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, going to shower and, instead of putting on jeans or sweats after, finding one of the dresses in your closet, one that Joel had never seen you in. You got your wet hair out of the way and went downstairs again, strangely aware of how the dress hugged your curves.

Joel’s back was to you when you came in but the plates were on the table, steak and green beans and a pile of fresh potato chips on each one.

“Are you kidding me?” You gaped at them. “You realize we’re already married, right? You don’t have to try this hard.”

“Like tryin’ hard for you,” he turned around, glasses in hand, and his mouth fell open, blinking a few times in surprise. “Hot damn, baby…”

“Shocking, know,” you smirked.

“I ever tell you you’re the most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen?” He asked, setting a glass down at your place. “Now, let me feed you before I change my mind and try to pull that dress off right here in the kitchen.”

Joel really did grill a mean steak. He’d even made the two of you whiskey cocktails with a recipe he’d gotten from Julie and, by the time dinner was done, you were pleasantly tipsy and full.

“Where did you get the flowers?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over the tiny white blooms.

“Might have gone outside for a bit,” he winced a little. You raised your eyebrows. “Not far, the kids in town sneak out that way all the time…”

“Wait, what?” You gaped at him, practically jumping out of your seat.

“Not Savvy and not Ellie,” he said quickly and you settled. “Made sure they know better. But lot of the other kids do. S’pretty out that way, have to take you sometime. Still owe you a trip to the lake. But, in the mean time…” he got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. “I’ve got someplace to take you tonight.”

He led you to the living room, a nest of pillows and blankets and sleeping bags set up in front of the TV.

“Just one second…” he turned the TV on, the opening sepia toned shot from Titanic on the screen.

“Joel!” You gasped. “Where’d you even get this?”

“Asked around,” he smiled. “Would’ve gone and hunted it down just to see you get all excited though.”

You elbowed him lightly in the side and he laughed as the two of you settled into the pile on the floor, you in Joel’s arms with your head on his chest as his fingers trailed up and down the bare skin of your arm.

The movie was just as good as the last time you’d seen it with Joel. Better, really, because you got to watch it pressed completely against his broad, strong body. But you could only really pay attention so long, twisting in his hold so you were looking at him and not the screen.

“Know it ain’t exactly a date like before,” he said softly. “But… I do OK?”

“Oh you blew past OK a while ago,” you laughed a little and he smiled. “This was… thank you, Joel.”

“Course, baby,” he trailed his fingers over the outline of your face. “Gonna miss you when I’m out there.”

“You could just not go,” you said. “Don’t think anyone’s holdin’ a gun to your head about it…”

He laughed once, softly.

“I know,” he said. “But… I do appreciate you lettin’ me go. I know it ain’t easy for you. Don’t blame you for it. But I’m feeling a lot more like myself since I’ve been patrollin’ again. I feel useful. I missed it. Thank you for letting me find that again.”

Your eyes searched his. You couldn’t really argue that with him, not when he was being so damn open and honest about it.

“Just need you to come home to me,” you said quietly. “You can have and do whatever you want, long as you come home.”

“Long as you’re here to come home to?” He said. “I’m comin’ home. Every time.”

He kissed you, gentle at first but deepening, until he was shoving your skirt around your waist and pulling your underwear down your legs. He sank into you, slow and firm, his breaths heavy and hot on your skin. You sank your fingers into is skin, holding him close and tight and the worries you had about clutching onto him too hard were far away.

Joel kept his pace, his body so large and strong on top of and inside of yours. You could feel his heartbeat, his eyes locked on your own and you focused on how close he was to you, how you knew he was safe and whole like this. How you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, that he would do everything to come back home to you. Your body got tight and needy, the heat inside you pulling into the center of you and burning hotter and brighter with every desperate stroke.

“You’re gettin’ close baby,” he pressed his mouth into your throat, nipping at the tender flesh there before soothing it with a brush of his tongue and a kiss. “Want you to come for me. Love makin’ you feel good, fuckin’ live for it…”

“Promise it’s not the last time,” your voice was tight, too, the intensity of your orgasm crashing into the fear that you couldn’t seem to shake.

“Promise,” he pulled back from you enough to look in your eyes again, his large hand coming to cradle the crown of your head. “Nothing’s keepin’ me from you, baby, nothin’, it’s OK, it’ll be OK, promise it will…”

Your back arched, last ounces of tension gripping you for a moment before releasing in a forceful, desperate wave.

“Fuck, there you are,” Joel panted, fucking you through it, never easing, chasing his own orgasm through yours. “Feel so good, so goddamn good, fuck, that’s it, keep comin’ for me, know you can…”

As your own orgasm started to ease, his took hold, pressing himself deep inside and emptying himself into you there.

Joel pulled himself from your fucked out body with a groan and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you tightly to him as you gasped short, shaky breaths.

“You’re OK,” he said gently, still breathing heavy himself. “I’ve got you, s’alright…”

You buried your face in his neck and fought to catch your breath, focusing on his scent and the feel of him against your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you said eventually. “I thought I was stronger than this but ever since… I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to never seeing you again and I just…”

“I know,” he said gently, pulling away from you enough that you could see his face. “I know how you’re feeling. I feel it, too. But I need you to know that I mean it when I say I’m comin’ back. I am, baby.”

You just nodded and focused on the feeling of him tracing the outline of your face in the dim light of the TV, his body close beside your own. He pressed a soft kiss into your lips, holding you closer as he did and staying close after he pulled away, so close that his nose brushed yours. You stayed like that, not bothering to turn to watch the movie let alone put in the second tape when the first one ended. Instead, you just memorized how he felt against you, how his eyes looked into your own, how his fingers found their familiar paths along your skin.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you were still entangled with him in the morning, his forehead against yours, his breaths easy and deep in sleep. You ran your fingers through his graying curls and his face tensed a little in his sleep before he adjusted, sliding down your body to bury his face against your chest. You just stroked his hair and held him there, the early morning light becoming pink with the sun.

When you couldn’t avoid it any longer, you woke him reluctantly and the two of you made your way to the stables, your body tucked against his. He gave you a squeeze before separating from you, the two of you working together to get the horses ready to head out on patrol. You walked with the patrol to the front gate, Joel leading his horse by the reins instead of riding him so he could hold your hand on the way.

“Be safe,” you said quietly as he faced you, every other horse on the other side of the wall now.

“Promise,” he said gently, his large hand going to the back of your neck and holding you at just the right angle to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Take care of yourself and our girls. Gimme somethin’ to come home to, OK?”

You smiled a little. Like something was going to happen in Jackson.

“Promise.”

You watched the patrol leave until they were out of sight, trying to calm the thudding of your heart as you headed for the stable to get started on all the work for the day.

You’d purposely set yourself up for a busy few days with Joel gone. If you were occupied, your mind couldn’t wander. So you focused on training horses.

It was the hardest part of your job but also the part you liked the most. You had to concentrate on it otherwise you’d get thrown. The horse could always tell when you were distracted, if you gave them an inch they would take a mile at this stage.

You were finally thinking about finishing up for the day, the sun low in the sky and your back sore after getting nearly thrown off a horse more times than you cared to count when Ellie and Savvy wandered into the stable, giggling to each other as they made their way over to you.

You took a moment to fully appreciate what they were to each other. You’d always felt bad for Savvy, having just you in the world, no one closer to her own age to bond with. Now, she and Ellie were attached at the hip, sharing the kind of bond you’d always longed to have with the sister who had never materialized, no matter how much you begged your parents for one. Both of them meant so much to you, the whole of the future wrapped up in them. You had survived a lot to get to this point, horrors you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, but you’d do it all again to see these two girls find sisterhood in each other. Conspiratorial whispers and knowing laughs and deep love was everything you wanted for your daughter and she had found it here.

“Terrified to know what this is about,” you half smiled as they walked over..

“Why does it have to be about something?” Ellie rolled her eyes. “What if we just wanted to come say hi.”

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two stop by to just say hi,” you said. “So that would be highly suspect. What do you want?”

“Can we go spend the night at Dina’s?” Savvy asked, the words all spilling out of her at once. “I promise we’ll behave and…”

“Dina’s?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at Ellie.

“Yeah, my friend Dina’s,” she gave you a firm look as she said it.

“And what will you be doing at Dina’s?” You asked, turning your attention back to Savvy.

“Just hanging out with some friends,” she said.

“Any boys?” You asked.

“No,” Ellie said quickly. “Mostly some of the girls who just finished up school and the girls who are about Savvy’s age, nothing crazy…”

“Please Mom?” Savvy interrupted her. “It’s going to be so fun and I haven’t done anything like this before but I’ve read about it and it sounds so cool and I really want to go and…”

“And Dina’s sister will be there?” You asked Ellie, who perked up at the question.

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “And she doesn’t let Dina get away with shit…”

“You do realize that you’re 18 and I can’t do a damn thing to stop you, right?” You said to Ellie. “Adults don’t need to ask their moms for permission.”

“I know,” Ellie said. “But so is Dina. And it’ll be more fun if Savvy can go. I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise.”

You looked between them, Savvy looking more happy and open with you than she had in months, so like how she used to look at you when asking for something when she was small. Her eyes were so wide and hopeful and you couldn’t say no, not when she was looking at you like that.

“Alright,” you sighed. Savvy squealed. “But you have to behave. Savvy, no drinking. If there are boys, you come home. No doin’ stupid shit like climbing buildings…”

“Oh that was like one time!” Ellie protested but you silenced her with a look.

“And I expect everything to stay PG,” you finished.

Ellie frowned.

“What the fuck does PG mean?”

You shook your head a little, some things still surprising you about how different the world was, even after all these years.

“It’s a saying from before,” you said. “Means make sure whatever you do, it’s family friendly. That means if you say you and Dina are friends, you act like friends.”

“We are friends,” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Oh sure,” Savvy drew out the last word, laughing. “I always want to kiss my friends…”

Ellie elbowed her and she laughed harder before quieting down.

“We won’t cause any trouble,” Ellie said. “Promise.”

“You two have fun,” you said. “And come by the stable in the morning so I know you’re still alive.”

“OK Mom,” Ellie rolled her eyes, nudging a giddy Savvy toward the door.

“Thank you, Mom!” Savvy called, giving you a wave as Ellie urged her outside.

You just laughed and watched until you couldn’t see them anymore before taking your time getting everything set for the night. Your house would be empty overnight for the first time since you’d gotten married. You hadn’t slept without Joel beside you in months, you weren’t in a rush to get home and feel his absence there. But, after a while, you couldn’t stall anymore. You made your way to the mess hall, already mostly empty, but found Maria there with William next to her. She smiled and waved you over and you joined them, sitting across the table as William crashed a carved moose and deer into each other, complete with sound effects.

“See you’re putting off being home, too,” she said, putting one hand in the middle of William’s back.

“Yeah, well,” you sighed. “That’s a damn big house for one person.”

She smiled tightly, knowingly.

“It’s always hard, thinking about them out there like that,” she said. “But this one feels harder.”

“Yeah,” you said, laughing once, darkly. “It really does.”

“Hey Aunt Bambi,” William looked up from his toys, his brown eyes reminding you of Joel’s. There was so much of the Miller men in his face it made your heart ache. “Did you know that moose are the biggest deer sp…sp…” he frowned and looked up at his mom.

“Species,” Maria finished for him before looking over at you. “He’s been obsessed with that carving ever since Joel gave it to him for Christmas so we’ve been learning about moose…”

“Well, moose are pretty cool,” you said knowingly.

“I want to see one,” he said. “Mommy says I can’t ride it but I bet I could ride it.”

You tried really hard not to laugh, William’s springy curls bouncing as he looked down at the carving in his chubby hand.

“I don’t think ridin’ it would be a good idea,” you said. “They’re big, could be very dangerous. But they are neat to see.”

“They’re not dangerous,” he frowned. “I bet we would be friends, just because they are big doesn’t mean they’re dangerous…”

“OK let’s I’d rather not think about you riding a moose,” Maria rolled her eyes. “We can start with seeing one from afar once you’re older.”

He just sighed heavily, as though the weight of the world were on his small shoulders, and went back to playing with the carvings.

“I remember when Savvy was that age,” you smiled a little. “She was all about horses, though…”

“Wonder where she got that from,” Maria smiled back.

The three of you were the last to leave the mess hall, the clean up team heading to the kitchens before you started heading out.

“You’re welcome to come over if you don’t want to be at home,” Maria said, carrying William as he started to fall asleep on her shoulder. “Our door is always open…”

“Thanks but I need to bite the bullet,” you sighed. “If Joel’s going out on longer patrols again, I need to get used to spending some nights home alone.”

“Well, the offer still stands,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind my kid babbling to you about moose, apparently.”

You laughed a little.

“He can babble to me about whatever he wants,” you said.

You parted ways and walked around Jackson for a few minutes before heading for the barn where the dogs were kenneled overnight, leaving a note on the log and taking Gatling from her designated place. She trailed behind you home, happy to be under your control again, and you fell asleep with her curled up against your stomach.

It was a relief to start the next day. You were halfway through your days with Joel outside, not sure if he was safe, too far away for you to see our touch. You could do one more night. You brought Gatling back to her kennel before heading to the stables and getting to work.

The girls came by in the late morning, both looking exhausted but otherwise OK.

“We’re going to go home and take a nap,” Ellie said, talking for Savvy who was staring straight ahead, looking dazed. “But we’ll be in the mess hall at lunch…”

“Go sleep before you fall over,” you smiled and shook your head. “Fill me in on everything later.”

Ellie steered Savvy out of the stable and you laughed a little. Savvy had friends, friends she was staying up all night with. It was everything you wanted for her, watching her grow up both beautiful and sad, thinking she would never have friends like this.

The girls beat you to the mess hall, their backs to the door you came in, their heads together, talking conspiratorially.

“She can’t know,” Ellie said quietly. “She’d freak out…”

“We can handle it,” Savvy said, quiet but sharp.

“Handle what?” You asked, making both of them jump, their eyes going wide. They looked at each other quickly and you frowned. “Girls. Handle what.”

“Nothing,” Ellie said quickly. Savvy was looking at you with a strange expression on her face. “Just… there’s a girl we know, this guy is being a dick. I think we can handle it without talking to her because I think if she knew it’d just be extra shitty.”

You frowned.

“Not gonna go pick a fight, are you? Because…”

“No,” she said. “Not picking a fight.”

“OK,” you said, still uncertain. “But I think…”

“Actually, Bambi, if it’s OK, we’re just going to head out,” Ellie said, cutting you off. “We got here early and I need to go bug Jesse about something.”

“Alright,” you frowned, looking between the two of them. “Are y’all sure everything is OK? Because…”

“It’s fine,” Ellie said before you could finish. “Right, Savvy?”

“Yeah,” she said, still looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Part of it like she didn’t know you at all. “It’s OK.”

“Alright,” you didn’t really believe either of them. “Look, if this boy is a serious problem…”

“Nothing like that,” Ellie cut you off again. “C’mon, Savvy.”

She got up and took Savvy’s hand, pulling her to her feet, too.

“Where can I find you two later,” you said. “Because…”

“We’ll be home,” Ellie said. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

She started pulling Savvy along behind her but Savvy just stayed where she was, her feet planted, eyes locked on you.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” You asked, brows knitting together. “If there’s anything you want to talk about…”

Savvy threw her arms around your waist, catching you totally by surprise, burying her face in your shoulder. You slowly, cautiously, put your arms around her, too, just holding her for a moment. It was so foreign yet familiar, so long since she’d latched onto you like this but holding her one of the only things it felt like you’d been made to do.

“You can always talk to me,” you said softly, running your hand over the back of her mass of curls and pressing a kiss to her temple. “About anything, I’m always here for you.”

“I know,” she said, stepping back and looking at you again. “I love you, Mom.”

You just stared at her for a moment, heart feeling like it was cracking open.

“I love you, too,” you said, your hands still on her shoulders. “More than anything.”

“C’mon Savvy,” Ellie said, taking her arm and tugging her away. “See ya, Bambi.”

You watched them go and debated following them before deciding to give Savvy some space. But, by the time you finished having lunch, you’d thought better of it. You were heading to see if they’d actually gone home but Olivia stopped you as you went past the stables, needing help with the horse you’d been working with the day before. It was hours before you could make it back to the house, bypassing your front door and heading straight for the back yard, knocking on Ellie’s door instead.

“One sec!” Ellie called and you heard her scramble for the door, breathless when she opened it. “Hey Bambi, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, not asking for permission and just stepping inside. Savvy was sitting crosslegged in the middle of her bed looking a little more like herself. Or, at least, the self you’d come to recognize her as lately, a little angry with her mouth set in a firm line. “Wanted to see what you girls were up to tonight, make sure everything was OK.”

“We’re fine,” Savvy said, sounding less angry than she looked. “Just pretty tired.”

You nodded slowly.

“Get that stuff figured out with your friend earlier?” You asked, looking between them.

“Think so,” Ellie said. “We can handle it. Right?”

“Right,” Savvy said, giving her a firm nod.

You looked between them, hoping one of them would elaborate. Neither did.

“Alright, look,” you said. “Both of you are actin’ real weird. I need you to tell me what it is you’re schemin’ up because, while I understand that you want to take care of your friend, you can’t just go around causing problems here in town over something like a break up…”

“We’re not causing any problems in town,” Ellie said reassuringly. “I promise, we’re not going to go beat up some kid in Jackson or anything like that, I swear.”

You looked to Savvy.

“She’s right,” she said. “We really aren’t.”

You clenched your jaw for a moment. Something felt… off. They were telling the truth but you were uneasy. Something was up.

“We’re actually still really tired,” Ellie said after a minute. “So, if it’s OK with you, we’re just going to call it a night…”

“You swear you’re not going to go beat up some boy?” You asked, looking between them.

“Promise,” Ellie said. “The Jackson boys are safe from us.”

You sighed, hoping to get Joel’s help getting more out of them when he was back the next night.

“Alright. You two actually get some damn sleep, OK?”

“OK Mom,” Ellie rolled her eyes and you smiled a little. At least that seemed like Ellie.

You went back to the house, sitting at the window to the backyard with a cup of tea for a bit, until the lights went off in their little house. Something still pulled at you but you went and settled on the couch, putting on an old VHS tape that had been in Joel’s house, whoever had lived here before’s recording of some episodes of Seinfeld. You didn’t fast forward through the commercials, marveling at how far away the world that sold things like Oreos seemed. You’d only been about Savvy’s age when this had been recorded. Your relationship with your mother had been fraught, too. As hard as it was to have the only reason you’d fought so hard to survive be distant, she’d done more with you today than you would have with your own mother at that age. You sighed. Maybe you were through the worst of it. Maybe this was just what it was like parenting a teenager, strange distance interspersed with shocking moments of vulnerability.

You dozed off halfway through the third episode and the pounding on your front door made you sit bolt upright, shocking awake with a gasp.

The sound was relentless, a fist slamming into wood instead of rapping against it. You scrambled off the couch and pulled the door open without bothering to see who was on the other side of it, your heart in your throat. What if it was Maria? What if something had happened to Joel?

But standing on your porch was Kyle, the boy Savvy had been spending time with, his shock of red hair slick with sweat, his freckled skin blotchy and red. There was a gash on his cheek.

“Mrs. Miller,” he panted, looking at you with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, they let me go, they let me go to come find you…”

“Slow down, kid,” you said gently, heart still pounding. You put your hands on his shoulders and guided him inside. “Take a deep breath, what’s goin’ on, is everyone OK?”

“No,” he shook his head, his eyes still wild and frantic. “No, they’re not OK. He’s got them, he’s got them, I tried to stop him but I couldn’t, there were too many and…”

“Who’s got who?” You frowned. “Need you to slow down, you’re not making any…”

“Savvy and Ellie,” he said. Your heart stopped. “He’s got them.”

***

“Swear to God this is the longest damn patrol I’ve ever been on,” Joel said, happy he could actually recognize some of what was around them now.

“And we’re even gettin’ back a few hours early,” Tommy gave him a cocky smile. “At least it was an easy one.”

“Jesus, don’t know if I’d call it easy with how my damn leg is feelin’,” Joel said. “Swear all I’m doin’ tonight is soaking in the damn bath…”

“See how your wife feels about that,” Tommy teased and Joel rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other…”

“Fuck off,” Joel said, smiling all the same.

“S’what I thought,” Tommy said.

It had been an easy few days, all things considered. They’d picked off a few stray infected but no signs of a larger group. No immediate signs of raiders, either, the territory they covered broad and quiet. They’d made good time coming back, closing in on Jackson around noon instead of that evening. It was one of those times that Joel was glad that you worked in the stables, happy he’d have an excuse to go right to you the second he was in the gate. He didn’t care that he knew that he smelled, days of sweat and dirt stuck on his skin and clothes. You wouldn’t mind. You’d damn near tackle him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your body into his and he’d forget for a moment just how bad his damn leg was hurting after spending two and a half days on a horse.

But Joel knew something was off the second the gate opened, guards whispering low to each other as Joel and Tommy dismounted.

“Who died?” Tommy frowned, looking around.

“Maria’s on her way up,” Jason, one of the guards, said. “She knows what’s going on…”

Joel frowned at Tommy, who’s face had fallen, skin going pale.

“I’m sure s’all fine,” Joel said, limping more than usual as he went to stand beside his brother, clapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s Jackson, what could happen?”

Maria appeared then, walking quickly and talking seriously with Warren.

“Oh Jesus,” Tommy said softly. “This is bad…”

“Think we lost someone?” Joel asked, voice low.

“Feels like we’re about to go to fuckin’ war,” Tommy said, matching Joel’s tone.

“Good to see you two back and in one piece,” Maria said, Joel’s stomach lurching at her tone. She was talking like a member of the council not like his sister-in-law. “Jason, take the horses to get settled. I need to talk to Joel and Tommy.”

Joel’s heart beat a little faster. She said it like she needed to talk to him, like Tommy was there to make sure he didn’t fly off the handle. She put her hand in the middle of Joel’s back and guided him to the Tipsy Bison, the bar empty this early in the day.

“What’s goin’ on?” Tommy asked the second they were in the door. “Is William OK? Why’s everyone actin’ like someone fuckin’ died?”

“William is fine, he’s with the neighbors,” Maria said gently before turning her attention to Joel. “I need you to stay calm…”

“Why,” he demanded. “Maria…”

“We don’t know everything,” she cut him off. “We’ve only known about it for maybe two hours, we’re still coming up with a plan and…”

“Known about what,” Joel demanded. “What’s goin’ on?”

Maria took a deep breath and looked him dead in his eyes.

“Bambi, Ellie and Savvy are gone.”

Time slowed. His heart dropped and there was a high pitched whine ringing in his head.

That didn’t make sense. This was Jackson. Things were safe here, everything was supposed to be safe here, that’s why he’d stayed here, risked everything to bring Ellie back here, done everything to keep you here when you’d tried to leave before and something had taken you from him anyway.

“What do you mean they’re gone?” Tommy’s voice snapped him back into his head. “Where’d they go? What happened?”

“This is everything we know,” Maria held a folded piece of paper out to Joel, his name in your handwriting on one half of it like you were addressing a letter. “We’re doing everything we can…”

Joel unfolded the page with trembling hands, the crinkle of the paper almost sharp in his ears.

Joel,

I know I promised to be here to come home to but Cody has our girls and I’m going to get them back. He told me to come alone or they die and I can’t risk them. Please don’t come after me, not until we know they’re safe. I’ll do everything I can to come back to you but if I don’t, protect them and take care of yourself. They need you.

If I never see you again, I want you to know that loving you was worth surviving for. Getting to be your wife and taking care of our girls with you was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Be safe.

I love you.

You signed your name, your real name, like you had the tape you gave him for Christmas but there was one notable difference: your last name was Miller.

Joel’s fist got tight around the paper. He’d lost you and his girls. He’d let the man who had hurt you live and now that had all three of you, doing who knows what to you.

“They were here yesterday,” Maria’s voice sounded far away. “It must have happened overnight. When Bambi didn’t show up at the stables today, Olivia sent someone to check on her around 10 a.m. and they found the note…”

Joel wasn’t listening, turning and stalking for the door, taking mental stock of the supplies he still had on him. How much ammunition? He was pretty sure he had a good count of how many rounds he’d fired on patrol but now he was less certain.

“Joel!” Maria’s voice was sharp, making him stop, one hand on the door, the sunlight pouring through the glass of it oddly bright. How could anything be bright right now, at a moment like this? “What are you doing? You can’t just…”

He looked back over his shoulder, his brother and sister-in-law, the pair of them standing and watching him with cautious looks on their faces.

Joel hoped they wouldn’t try to stop him. He loved them both, they were family, but if he had to choose from you and the girls or his brother, his brother would lose every single time. He wouldn’t hesitate to go through them.

Joel had felt like he’d been meant to do very little in his life. Before, he’d worked a job that let him pay his bills and watched college football for a school he’d never had a shot at getting into. Since, he’d done plenty to get by and distract himself from the emptiness of his existence, none of it feeling like it was worth a damn thing. The one different, constant piece had been how he felt about the people his world revolved around. Sarah, Ellie, you, Savvy. The four of you were his calling. The four of you were why he was here at all. He’d survived the loss of Sarah by the skin of his teeth. In so many ways, he never really recovered. He wouldn’t have recovered at all if it weren’t for Ellie.

He wasn’t doing that again. He wouldn’t survive it again. This was life and death, not just for the three of you but for himself, too.

Joel met his brother’s gaze.

“That monster’s got my wife, my daughters,” Joel said, voice dark and firm. “I’m gonna hunt him, I’m gonna hurt him and I’m gonna bring them back.”

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I know, more angst. I don't know why I'm like this either. Feel free to yell at me in the comments or my ask box or my DMs. I'll still love you.

Thanks for putting up with me and all my shit and for continuing to read this story. It really does mean so, so much to me.

I love you!!

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

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

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katsukismrs · 8 months

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let you break my heart again.

warning: hurt ‘n no comfort, bakugou is emotionally unavailable </3, reader is heartbroken, depression signs (not eating enough).

a/n: i’m back :) inspired by let you break my heart again by laufey.

🎵Feeling kind of sick tonight. All I've had is coffee and leftover pie. It's no wonder why🎵

Who knew love could be so draining? it hurt. and it hurt so bad. especially when the person you loved wasn’t as emotionally available as you. it hurts, you need somebody to shield you from the storm of your own mind. you’re slipping further into the never ending void of your own mind, you’re not meeting your physical needs enough.

🎵Ooh, still you take up all my mind. I don't even think that you care like I do.🎵

Why do you love him so much? he never cares for anybody, he hardly cares for himself a lot of the time, why are you expecting a guy like that to love you? you’re so gullible to think that you have a chance with him, the katsuki bakugou! he’ll never have time for you.

🎵 I should stop, heaven knows I've tried🎵

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, they said. you had to learn the hard way, from whatever this was. you were a deer chasing a lion, even if you knew you’d be dead by the end of it.

🎵One day, I will stop falling in love with you🎵

A lie you keep telling yourself, or so it looks like. you don’t know whether you’ll get out this vicious cycle or not, it’s depressing; having to be in a situation like this. could you stop being so naïve?

🎵Some day, someone will like me like I like you.🎵

It hurts, but he might not be your true love, as much as you want him to be. Maybe your true love is out there having his heart broken, too. by someone they think is the right one. but you want him. and it hurts! love is so brutal, so brutal..

🎵Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie. Pretend that we are more than friends.🎵

Until then, you’ll live in your delusions, dreaming of living in a big city, in a luxurious house, having your children run around the house wreaking havoc. that’s the life you want, but will it be yours? you know your answer: a brief, brutally honest, disgusting no. you’ll never be his. get over it.

🎵Then of course I'll let you break my heart again.🎵

But until anything happens, you’ll let yourself run dry and be broken beyond repair, so maybe he can see you, love you. you’ll let yourself continue in this vicious cycle and keep getting tortured. it’s the best thing.. right?

🎵 I'm just tryna understand. What I am to you. More than songs we've exchanged. Midnight calls. Sunset views.🎵

You’re somewhat close to him, but all the connections you’ve had were through songs, or you’d call eachother because everyone is asleep, but he’d hang up a little over the 5 minute mark, since he needed his sleep. and he’d leave you stranded.

“The sunset looks nice.” he speaks to himself as he’s walking back to the dormitory.

“it is.” you spoke with a small smile.

that’s about 60% of your weekly or even monthly conversations together, you can’t even consider yourself a friend of his, you’re so stupid to have fallen in love with him.

🎵Promise I don't mean to cry. But I get overwhelmed and confused.🎵

Your day’s endings end in endless sobbing, that eventually lulls you to sleep, you want something other than the wetness of your pillow and the warmth of your blanket(s) to care for you. you want somebody, but you’re so distant now that nobody likes you.

🎵If only you knew what I felt like.🎵

You wish you could muster up the courage to tell hik your true feelings. i love you is a cursed three word sentence that dies at the tip of your tongue, and you can’t speak it out because you can’t feel it from him.

🎵One day, I will stop falling in love with you. Some day, someone will like me like I like you. Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie. Pretend that we are more than friends. Then of course I'll let you break my heart again🎵

It’s a cycle. it’s a loop. it’s never ending. someone needs to pull you out this torturous marathon that has no end, and no prize to win at the end, you’ll have to surrender and quit, you can’t win, you’ll never win.

🎵Some day, one day I will stop falling in love with you. Until I do, I'll be thinking of you. Let you break my heart again🎵

You have hope in yourself, though. that hasn’t dissipated, you hold the hope of escaping this endless loop, but until then you’ll nourish in the torture, trying to pick your broken pieces up like puzzle pieces, and trying to conceal your feelings, until the true one comes to you, naturally.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #mha angst

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merakiui · 11 months

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Omg that last thought tickled about sick reader w trey tickled me soooooooo good 😭

I raise you this!!! Darling hates the taste of medicine, so trey tells her he'll use his unique magic disguise it to have the flavour of her favourite juice. Little does she know, trey has literally just been giving her juice and lying about it being medicine the whole time 😭😭

Omggg and visits to Doctor Riddle??? Riddle is totally in on the whole thing and is secretly giving trey advice on how to keep you jussttt sick enough to keep you entirely dependent on him without putting you in any true danger. Maybe the two of them really crank up the dramatics by helping you to slowly get better, and then as soon as you start to misbehave too much, it's back to square one.

Sometimes your head gets so loopy and gone that while you let trey bathe you, you're not entirely aware of everything he's doing to your body 😭😭

You and that anon are so big brained for this. I really like this trope because I've always been quite sickly (it's something that seems to run in my family.) When I don't feel well I'm literally soooo whiney and clingy and I *need* someone to hold me, and I get the feeling that trey, Floyd, Riddle and rook in particular are the ones who would eat that shit up

OOOOOO YES YES OTL

It’s such a good trope, especially for Trey and (doctor) Riddle! They’re so logical and level-headed most of the time, but rational thought is thrown out the window when you come into the picture. Trey has done so much for Riddle, so Riddle feels as if he needs to return the favor somehow, even if that means compromising your health for the sake of returning goodwill. And you have to trust Doctor Riddle because of his credentials! He’s a doctor! He’d never lie to you! It’s his job to help you get better, and sometimes you do get better. But then you’ll push Trey away when he tries to get close to you or you’ll try to run away; and now you’re bedridden once again. :( it’s a vicious cycle you fail to realize because you’re so certain you just have poor health.

Omg and being unaware while Trey bathes you because your head is so foggy and you’re so sleepy… aaaaa normally Trey tries to be good and keep his hands to himself. He doesn’t want to do anything you might dislike him for, but you’re so out of it when you sit in the bath, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes. And he’s so tempted to do more than just washing. He limits himself to lingering touches when you’re in this state, his fingers never going any further than he intends them to. Though he wants to feel more of you, preferably inside you, he holds himself back. He likes you, and sometimes he feels guilty about that because he likes you too much.

Or maybe he holds himself back for all of one week before he realizes he can successfully get away with more than just groping. :) maybe he even knocks you up during one of these times and neither of you realize it until Trey starts suspecting it when you exhibit certain symptoms; and now suddenly your health is no longer declining. Now you have to be healthy and well for the baby, and Trey and Riddle can no longer keep you sick, lest they somehow harm the baby with their interferences.

Omg I agree that Rook and Floyd also work for this trope! Although I also feel like Jade enjoys it just a little more than Floyd. Floyd likes it when you’re needy and clingy; Jade likes the idea of being in total control of you when he intentionally makes you sicker and weaker. I also think Vil would be good for this trope! He knows his way around poisons and curses. :) he could easily utilize this knowledge to keep you just weak enough to rely on and love him while still allowing you to feel like yourself most of the time.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #tw: noncon touching #tw: pregnancy mention

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b0rderbunny · 6 months

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♡ HOLDING TIGHT ♡

A/N: not me posting after disappearing for a month 😩

By the way I have been really sick and have been juggling finals and dealing with this virus. My entire families got it so I'm trying to not get sick but that's kinda hard when you live with 8 people 🤧

Nonetheless let's begin!

Gender neutral reader

Levixlover!reader

Levi Ackerman, a man with many talents.

He's strong, smart, and drop dead gorgeous; That's what people on the outside see. But what did you as his lover see?

You saw a cold man, who only pushes others away because he's scared.

Because he's scared of a repeat.

The repeat of losing.

Most people would take this as immaturity.

"Imagine being afraid of losing? As if"

This man was scared of losing yes. But not what others might think. He was scared of losing people he let in.

The night Isabelle and Furlan passed, you were there.

You held a hand out, a hand that he first slapped away.

Yet.

You were always there.

He didn't know why but he felt comfort in your presence, in your gaze. The way you looked at him, with so much love in your eyes. The way you looked at him as if he were the most perfect thing in the world, the most beautiful man in existence.

And he is, you made sure to remind him every day just how much you loved him.

How much you cared for him.

His voice, his eyes, hell even the way he had to make sure everything was clean. Your treatment towards him was foreign. He wasn't used to being looked at like he was human. He was used to being looked like a machine, a dog, something disgusting.

So the night you two first made love was something he would remember to the day he died.

The way you told him how much he meant to you.

How much you loved him.

He cried.

The first time since his mother's death, he cried.

And unlike others would, you didn't judge him. Didn't take advantage of him in this delicate state. Instead you repeated it again.

"I love you Levi."

And now those were the same words you were whispering as he stared down at you eyes wide, your hand resting on his cheek.

Your bloodied hand.

Blood of your comrades, friends, and your own.

"Promise me something ____." He said as you two stood outside star gazing the night before.

"Anything" you said with a smile.

"Promise me you'll come home, that the two of us will spend the rest of our lives together." He said as he turned to look at you. At your beautiful eyes. The eyes he loved so much, mirroring his gaze of love.

"Only if you also promise that you'll come back to me" you said holding out your pinky.

God, you were always so immature.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at your immaturity as you let out a small laugh.

"Come on I'm not kidding!" You laughed as he let out a small smile before wrapping his pinky around yours.

"Fine"

And even with your hand becoming limp, you still looked at him as if he was the most important thing.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise" you whispered, wiping the tear that was now trailing down his cheek.

He could see it.

The pain, the same pain everyone before you had.

His mother, Isabelle, Furlan, Kenny.

And now you.

Was he cursed? Did he do this to you? Was this his fault?

He was losing you

And he couldn't do a single thing.

Nothing, as you bled out holding your lovers hand to your heart.

He could feel the way your chest slowly began to still.

Before it completely came to a stop.

The battle of shiganshina.

The battle of life or death.

A battle so vicious, that even after the people regained the land, they were still talking.

"Did you hear about the squad leader who was lost? ____? Was it?"

"I heard them and captain Levi were head on the strongest in the military"

"The two were going to get married after coming back to the walls, no?"

Many scouts were lost.

But they weren't just scouts.

They were Friends

Father's

Mother's

Lovers

Soulmates.

The scouts had won.

Yet everyone came home with a heavy feeling in their heart, the feeling of loss.

They had lost.

More importantly, Levi Ackerman had lost.

What he lost you may ask?

He lost the most important thing in his life.

His lover, his best friend, his everything.

"Hey L?" that dumb nickname you have him, you always had to refer to him as it. "Hm?" Not looking up from his papers he signaled you to continue talking.

"Do you believe in alternate universes?" You asked looking at the book you held in your hands.

"I believe you're a idiot" he replied as you deadpanned.

"Im being serious, what if there's another me and another you" you said excitedly walking towards his desk and around to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"What if there's one without titans where me and you are married, with a small tea shop, and kitty" you said excitedly as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"How dumb are you?"

"In another life I'm super smart!"

"Yeah in another life" he replied, rolling his eyes.

In Another life…

Maybe we'll stay together...

#attack on titan #levi aot #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #snk levi #angst #no happy ending #tw death #aot angst #angst no happy ending #angst no comfort #Spotify

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stevebabey · 4 months

Note

You don't have to answer this I'm just gonna bitch in your inbox about the x reader post you made because I felt this in my bones.

Like you really can't go in the tag for quality stuff lately. Everything is about sex. I'm not a prude. I read occasionally stuff, but omg, not everything has to be like this. Sometimes stories begin hopeful, but they end the same way. I'm just sick of it because it's all there is. And because it's so oversaturated, "normal" fics don't stand a chance because people don't click on that anymore. So yeah, as a creator, if I wanna get attention for my work, of course, I will produce stuff that people will read.

Also what you said about minors, how are they supposed to interact with fics if everything is porn.

In general, people are sooo fixated on "spicy" content. On tiktok, all people read is smut, or they can't handle other stuff. Literally, smut destroyed their brains. How is it any different than guys having a porn addiction?

Also, the tumblr tagging and searching functions are shit. I wanna find new fics from like 2020 or 2021 (before s4 bc I miss those vibes). When you go to the popular tag thing, the earliest you get is 2022. Like tumblr needs to fix that, so content from years ago can still be found. People also need to start tagging accordingly. It's such a pain.

Again sorry for the rant.

HOHOHOHOHO NO APOLOGIES NEEDED NONNIE i love having a bitch and being on my hater shit and i think more people than you might think agree with all of this + its a whole buncha opinions under the cut u have been warned

to some degree to decrease in quality fics will be due to the lull between seasons which always happens- some of the fantastic writers move onto other obsessions for the mean time and truly, i can't fault them for that.

but yet somehow i know it's more than just that - a smut piece will get more attention and notes regardless of the quality of the fic. it's so tough to complain about cos like sigh its all free writing produced by someone so to moan and bitch about stuff getting more attention than others is like. not very nice and being hypercritical but also

not everyone wants to read smut!! and its fuckin everywhere!! wouldn't it be darling if there could simply be a tag that was smut free but noooooo every post gets tagged with as many fuckin things as possible for 'reach' which is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard before

and ur absolutely right, because of it fics with no smut get drowned before they get a chance to get noticed. and sorry to say it, but its very rarely that i've read a fluff piece and been like ah, that seemed like it was just thrown together like no its always crafted to some degree- but i cannot say the same for smut in the least. again, often u can mentally sub in different characters and the fic still works which to me = bad writing (if its a steve fic i shouldn't be able to slot in eddie and have it work? ok cos then its not a STEVE fic its just a porn fantasy which is like fine but GOD this is a whole nother can of worms but if u just write smut and then cycle thru joe keery characters its like half a step from writing rpf cos its obvious u just think he's a hot guy and not so much into his characters 😭 maybe im being autistic levels of protective over my lil guy but i also think im right lmao)

and ough trying to write for an audience is so hard, its a vicious cycle of: wants to produce content ppl will read and interact with -> doesn't enjoy writing it as much -> writing isn't as good as u know it could be -> if it flops for whatever reason u feel like asshole. anon babey please dear god write the ideas you want to <3 i can promise you they will be 100x better than trying to cater to an invisible audience ! ppl follow you for your writing !!! and feel free to tag me!!!! i always want to read good steve x reader fics!!! (i just can't be assed hunting them down half the time)

the minors thing is just. god its - i remember hearing the phrase 'virgins write the best smut' and it was when i was 14 and now im like god don't say that they write like porn cos they have fuck all idea what they're talking about. i read so much fanfic when i was 12 years old and what u said is so true, it just used to sneak up in stories and ruin things. its the internet tho so its impossible to truly moderate

omg ur tiktok comment so fucking true babe. when smut is prioritized over plot, u can tell and so many of the booktok rec's they have are just that. there are ways to write smut and have it still be a story. there's also ways to write pwp and still craft it and yet, u dont see that often. also what happened to being excited when two bitches hold HANDS??? AND KISS FOR THE FIRST TIME?? it's appalling the way they thirst for that content but write their captions like "and they have s3x!!! and f@&k in the bathroom hehehe" like what. its such sanitized and shit content honestly

god ur so right i hadn't even thought about hunting down old fics - and it would make such a difference if you could do that because otherwise SO much weighs on when u post it and if it shows in tags and yada yada

this is so much omg u don't have to read all that but genuinely the reason i started writing more steddie and less x reader is the difference in reception and general support. i dont feel like i'm competing against my mutuals, but more like we're here to just hoot and hollar at each other and unless u have a tight knit group of friends on here, u don't get that on x reader fics ://

#so many thoughts #im so sorry #no one except that anon read this LMAO #im worried it never goes too well if you express too strong of an opinion on the internet #tentative #delete later #ruby talks #asks #anon #tw opinion #HAHAHA THATS A TAG #yah ill use that

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

Text

Sweet Dreams Part Five

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Cw: Death, sibling death

Henchman stared at their open palm in shock, the stinging skin already stained an angry shade of pink. What did they just do? The hand had practically moved on its own, hot with fury and hungry for its own sort of justice. Very slowly, Henchman shifted their gaze away from the traitorous limb and to the bright red handprint making itself known across Villain's cheek.

The criminal's whole body had gone rigid and still, their face caught halfway wrenched to the right where the momentum of Henchman's vicious strike had turned it. They blinked twice and then a third time as if each close of their eyelids made the terrible scene a little clearer. Sick dread curdled Henchman's insides as they slowly turned forward again, something dangerous flashing in the darks of their eyes.

What did they do?

Villain leaned forward a little, eyes narrowed, one hand reaching...

The words for an apology gathered on the tip of Henchman's tongue, ready to plead forgiveness beneath the pointed threat of Villain's bared fangs, but what came out instead was:

"I am not an object."

Villain froze.

"I'm a person," Henchman continued, each word somewhat choked but licked with fire, "not a tool for your own convenience."

“I never said—“ Villain began.

"You want to pay me to sleep with you!"

"Well, when you say it like that--"

"And you think because I...because I like you that I'll be happy to do it!"

"Aren't you?"

Henchman wanted to slap them again, but this time they resisted the urge. Though they did not hold back their scoff.

Villain scooted a little closer, sharp eyes looking Henchman up and down as if something in their appearance might make their anger more comprehensible. "It seems perfectly reasonable to me. I get some sleep, and you get to be affectionate with me. We both get what we want."

“One-sided affection doesn't make me happy," Henchman snapped. "You're trying to use my feelings to your own advantage."

"I'm trying to make a reasonable bargain! Would you rather I order you?"

Henchman flinched, shrinking small between their own anxiously wrapped arms.

Villain registered their words and the snarl that had begun curling their lip straightened smooth once again. Their voice dropped quiet, and they dipped their head a little to meet Henchman's wide eyes.

"I didn't mean that. I wouldn't force you."

Was that true? Henchman wasn't sure. Villain wasn't one for kindness. Or mercy. But then again, they'd never harmed Henchman before, nor had they heard anything about them hurting any of their other employees. Their air was a little unfeeling maybe and always carrying the potential for pain, but when it came down to it, they were really quite fair.

Henchman couldn't bring themself to unclamp their fingers from the shoulders of their shirt, but they did straighten up.

"Maybe it's just sleeping to you," Henchman dared murmur, "but it's agony to me. I know you don't feel for me in...that way... I know it's all business. But being that close to you..." Henchman's face warmed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, but they pressed through it anyway. They needed to make Villain understand. "When we're together like this morning or like...like the first time...it feels intimate, but I know it's not. And being that close to the person you feel for and knowing that they feel nothing back...it hurts. I refuse to go through that. I'd rather receive nothing of affection than a fake version."

Villain didn't respond, but they did continue to stare. Whether because they were angry, thinking Henchman's complaints over, or something else entirely, they didn't know. But in case there was any doubt left, they quickly concluded:

"So no. Liking you does not make your proposal less inconvenient. Quite the opposite."

With that, they glued their eyes down to the crumb-covered blankets and waited for Villain's response. Possibly for their wrath. Or maybe a prompt dismissal. They wondered if they'd lose the job completely or just their recent 'chosen one' status.

"So be it," Villain said simply. The mattress creaked a little as he swung his legs over the bed. "I'm going to check with the front desk for any delivery options. We should be leaving the room as seldomly as possible. Perhaps while I'm gone, you can make a list of things we might need for the long haul."

Henchman still didn't look up, but they nodded. "Yes, Boss."

The door clapped shut, and Henchman let out a long sigh, unlocking their arms from around themselves and dropping them limply against the bed. Questions spun around their head like mosquitoes, but the answers evaded them. Did Villain understand now or were they simply letting the issue go? Were they worse off or better? And where did it all go from here?

***

Henchman tossed onto their side, giving their pillow a couple pounds with their fist before flopping their head down. Just as they expected the short scratchy carpet itched terribly and barely granted any comfort against the hard floor beneath. They should have gone to ask the desk for an extra blanket; it wouldn’t take away the ache already creeping up their back, but at least it would have been some protection against the disgusting scent of artificial citrus caking the carpet.

About an hour ago, Villain had casually offered the extra space in the bed, but Henchman had firmly declined. Villlain needed to know they were serious about everything they said earlier, and more than that they needed these feelings to die. That wasn’t going to happen with anymore cuddling, accidental or not. Besides, it was just a stupid crush. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. They’d known that all along.

“Can we at least hold hands?” Villain said from the dark, hanging their arm over the side of the bed.

“No.” Henchman shoved one hand under their pillow and used the other to clutch their blanket tighter around their shoulders.

Villain’s fingers stretched out yearningly. “Just until I fall asleep?”

Henchman flipped stubbornly the other direction.

“So harsh,” Villain pouted.

It’s what you deserve.

Villain barked a surprised laugh, “Getting bold, aren’t you? Careful, that tongue might get you in trouble someday.”

Wait.

Henchman’s stomach dropped.

Had they said that out loud?

“S-sorry,” they choked hastily.

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll hold my hand a while.”

When Henchman didn’t respond, Villain laughed again. It was a throaty sound, but…nice. Not that that mattered.

Alright, alright. I’ll just sleep.”

The room became swallowed in thick silence, so quiet that Henchman could hear the cars outside and the footsteps of passing guests in the hall. The air conditioner whirred monotonously under the window, flapping the thick curtains against each other so that they made discomforting shapes in the dark.

Henchman drew their blanket up to their nose—wincing a little as it brushed their bruises—and squeezed their eye shut. Ignore it. Just ignore it. They’re just curtains. Hero didn’t follow you. Nothing can hurt you here.

"Your sister,” Villain broke the silence suddenly. “Is she the reason you work for me?"

Henchman almost told Villain that if they were talking they weren't sleeping, but they thought they'd backtalked their employer enough for one day, not to mention it was sort of relief to have something grounding them so they wouldn't float off into their thoughts.

"Er...well...actually, yes. I suppose..."

The mattress creaked as Villain propped themself up on one elbow. "You mentioned something about a hero?"

"Um...I..."

“Actually, don’t answer that," Villain said abruptly. "I was only curious, but I don't need to know. We all have pasts."

“No, no, it’s alright!" Henchman found themselves saying. It wasn't, but they didn't really want to go back to the quiet. And after all the times that Villain shared hard things with them, maybe it would be good to share a little of themselves in return. "I'm just...um...thinking where to start."

"Your sister..." Villain urged gently.

"My sister..." Henchman echoed. "My sister...was beautiful. Not just nice looking but really, truly beautiful. I swear she must have stolen all the pretty genes in the family."

"I don't know about that," Villain said.

Henchman's face warmed traitorously, but luckily it was too dark to be noticed. They could pretend they hadn't heard and move on.

"Three years ago, we were supposed to meet up for lunch. When we got older it was hard to find time for those sorts of things, but we always made it work. Though...sometimes I wonder if we'd been a little less good at it maybe she'd still... Well, anyway, there was this villain called Glamour. She had the ability to hypnotize people with an illusion that made her appear like their own personal version of beauty. She'd done a lot of damage to the city with her powers, so the heroes were hunting her, and I...I guess her original form looked a lot like my sister, and with my sister being so beautiful..."

"Henchman," Villain said. It sounded sharp, but there was something gentle in there too, something concern. Permission to stop.

Henchman took a deep breath. They'd come this far.

"She was just walking. Minding her own business. Then some overzealous hero spotted her and mistook her for the villain they were hunting. They didn't ask any questions. They didn't try to arrest her. They just attacked. By the time I found her, the damage was already past fixing. She died before the ambulance even left the hospital."

They did their best to smother the croak creeping up their throat.

"The hero was suspended for a time, and he was made to offer a written apology, but that was the extent of it. My family tried to press charges, but somehow the good intentions of a hero outweighed the reality of their harm. A lot of the court case was just the hero defendant trying to convince the jury that my sister really might have been Glamour, since at the time they still hadn't caught her."

Henchman cleared their throat sharply and forced their voice steady.

"By the end of it, I didn't have faith in the hero justice system anymore. And I wanted them to pay. Villainy was my best choice."

A long pause stretched between them.

"I'm so sorry," Villain finally said.

"It's...getting better," Henchman responded, unable to make themselves voice the words 'it's alright.'

"Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening."

To Henchman's surprise, they meant it. It was hard dredging up the memory, but it was nice to finally have someone else know. To feel understood by somebody. Though of all the people to talk to, they'd never once imagined it would be Villain.

Henchman carefully reached out to the criminal's dangling hand and touched their fingers cautiously to the cool center of their palm. Their muscles jolted and their fingers hesitated, but soon enough Villain's hand was wrapped warmly around Henchman's own.

The villain fell asleep almost immediately, and though having their arm raised in the air rushed all the blood from their hand into their elbow, it didn't take long before Henchman nodded off too.

***

The next night, Henchman came out of the bathroom to find a pillow barrier cutting down the center of the bed, all the way to the mattress's end.

"Does this work?" Villain asked from one side. "I know you don't want to share, but I think it's better that you don't sleep on the floor anymore."

Henchman couldn't agree more. Their neck had a massive crick in it, and they'd been scratching a rash on their elbow all day. And if they were totally separated, well, it was more like two beds pushed together. Right? Yeah.

"It's fine," Henchman agreed, gratefully sliding under the covers. Ah, so warm and so soft. They snuggled in deeper and closed their eyes for a few seconds.

Luckily the barrier was tall enough that they couldn't see Villain on the other side. It was almost like they weren't there at all, except for their breathing. It was definitely an improvement from the floor and from the cuddling problem.

It was also much more comfortable to hold hands across.

...

Hopefully, this was ok, this part came a little harder for some reason, partly because it's late, but I really wanted to finish it today. I may give it a reread tomorrow and fix anything that seems off.

Part Six

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @last-ditch-entry @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @ghostfacepepper

@vuvulia

#villain x villain #villain x henchman #hero x villain #writing snippet #heroes and villains #creative writing #villain #heroes and villains community #fiction #hero #villain x hero #superheroes and villains #one bed trope #one bed #writblr

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thousand-winters · 5 months

Note

Gonna send two more asks actually. 5 and 6 for the toh thing

5. Favorite platonic relationship?

Okay, I'm gonna have two different answers for this.

You know Dadrius has my heart and soul. Literally over here thinking and discussing Darius and Hunter's dynamic every single day of my life for more than a year already. There's just a lot with them, the problem is that while they do have a lot, it's mostly implied, and we absolutely can deduce some things, theorize others, and run absolutely wild with parallels, symbolism and this and that, but truth is we didn't see too much of them actually onscreen. So they're my favorite platonic relationship that didn't get too much time to develop in front of the audience even if it's very well implied they did.

Special mention to Darius and Eberwolf for the same reasons, lots implied, not much onscreen because we did not have the time.

Now, for the ones we actually had time on the show for...

I think the reasonable thing would be to say the Owl Trio, and while I do love them dearly, I honestly don't tend to seek out art or such with them? I think I'm gonna have to say Lilith and Eda.

I'm just... once again, I don't really talk a lot about Lilith despite how much I love her, but she's there. She's being microwaved in my head. She's rotating. She's under my microscope. She's everything to me.

That, coupled with the fact that you put a complicated siblings relationship in media and you got me, makes it so Eda and Lilith are just fascinating to me. Yeah, perhaps the transition from them being technically enemies to allies and friends again was a little clumsy, but honestly? That sort of feels right when it comes to, again, complicated relationships with siblings.

Honestly, part of why they interested me so much in the first place is because there are aspects of Lilith I see myself in, a LOT. And Eda, well, sort of reminds me of my sister. My sister even pointed it out while we watched. It's a whole thing. We are not talking about it /lh

It's just... gods, so damn interesting, especially when you consider Lilith's side of things, there's so much love and jealousy and resentment and guilt toward Eda, it's such a mess that comes out in the worst and in the best of ways. Because she has all the information on why things happened like they did, her point of view during their relationship especially in season 1 has so many layers, while for Eda it might feel a little puzzling but there's so much about why Lilith acts like she does that she just doesn't understand. So much miscommunication, so much love, so much vitriol at the same time.

They're SO good. Their little scene in King's Tide with them holding hands with their foreheads touched together, Lilith worried sick for Eda and Eda trying to joke to lighten the mood kills me every time.

6. A character you didn't expect to love? What made you start liking them?

The Collector too, actually.

I think for the Collector there's a lot of "well, in hindsight...", because they did seem far more vicious and dangerous than they actually were in that one memory in Hollow Mind, plus they seem somewhat nonchalant in King's Tide as well.

But For the Future truly opens up that perspective, it took me a while to warm up to them even so but I think in retrospective, the way they behaved makes so much sense for the fact that... he's just a kid. A kid trying to act how he has seen adults around him act, a kid that sees someone they want to know and be friends with so badly and the circumstances are SO bad but he's a kid!!! And to a certain point he doesn't get it.

He's just a kid...

I love the Collector so much now. You can tell they were also feeling all the guilt in the world during Watching and Dreaming with that one "you can at least do this" while Belos' curse was all over him and extending over his body, like... baby, no... 😭

4. Favorite romantic relationship?

This was always here, shhhh.

Ultimately I don't think too much about the couples of the show, even though they're in general so good, but I think it's definitely Lumity for me.

In part because of the impact they had, because inevitably, if someone sort of knows about TOH but doesn't really, they sure know about Lumity. But that's more of a general answer rather than a personal one so.

I just think they're so sweet, and so well done. I truly was not expecting their relationship to actually end up being a romantic one when I was watching Season 1, but I'm so glad it did. I think they did such a good job in writing them going from sort of frenemies to friends, to Amity crushing on Luz, to the crush being mutual and them pining for one another, to the nervous first steps of dating to the point we end up seeing them in, just comfortable and loving each other just as much.

There's a lot of relationships in media that become a thing just right at the end so we don't see them develop like that and I love that they got that, I love how real it is for them to have the nervous stages even while already girlfriends and to see how time made them be more natural and comfortable with each other, because of course that happens! And Luz in Thanks to Them was keeping secrets, of course, but even then you could see they were already comfortable, not so much sweating profusely every time they saw each other or anything, it started being just tender and intimate and sweet.

Lumity is just so damn good. I love Raeda and I love them too for being people in their 40s being such messes in love, they're special in a different way but I like Lumity just a little bit more.

From this ask game!

#the owl house #toh #ask games

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cometcon · 8 months

Text

I did it. I wrote fanfic for Helluva Boss. Striker is consuming my mind. XD

So I was looking through the Striker tag on here for more of my favourite bastard snakey boi and found this really neat artwork. :D

And it's a really interesting concept and the artwork is so well done and they've kept just enough of Striker's sinister energy in the images that my brain just wouldn't leave me alone about it. And it got me thinking: Redeemed Striker cuddling up to Moxxie for warmth is definitely cute and even I love it (and I'm aromantic as fuck XD ). But would it be possible to write something with the same basic concept, just making it a different scenario to involve my first impression of Striker instead, without having to redeem and develop Striker first? Can I have my cake and eat it too? XD

I've changed my mind since I first posted this so here's the freshly edited new introductory waffle:

I want to flesh this out a little and write it as a whole oneshot partnered with my Blitz/Striker fic which is also set during Harvest Moon and maybe ending along the lines of the events in the canon episode, but in the meantime my brain churned out about 800 words for the specific prompt. I think I'm leaning for the fic being about Moxxie's perspective of Striker arriving at the farm as in canon. Moxxie dislikes him immediately and since Striker is an egotistical supremacist piece of shit he just doubles down on the dickwad behaviour, but keeps it subtle enough for Blitz and Millie to do their usual thing of overlooking Moxxie's concerns about things they don't see as a problem/threat/red flag (I promise I'm not hating on them; I enjoy their characters but also sometimes it does seem like a fair bit of the shit Moxxie gets dragged into could have been avoided if they'd listened to him. XD Though then we wouldn't have the parts of the show I enjoy, so again, not complaining, just playing with it. Don't kill me lol.) And Moxxie understandably gets sick of Striker's shit and they begin a tit for tat resulting in Moxxie shooting Striker's window 'by accident' and then 'forgetting' to fix it. XD And since they're all sleeping in the farm house, Striker chooses to escalate with a cruel and unusual punishment...

Behold, my first ever attempt at dark fluff. XD

----------------------------------

The sound of the door opening and soft light spilling across the room made Moxxie's eyelids flicker, a low growl of annoyance building in his chest.

Millie had a bad habit of laughing off their boss' infuriating behaviour, finding it amusing. Cute, even. Moxxie vehemently disagreed, yet his complaints typically fell on deaf ears, so he usually just endured. But these night-time visits were reaching the absolute line and Moxxie had had enough. He didn't care what his wife said, he was going to fucking murder Blitz if he took even one more step toward-

His back tensed in surprise as the covers lifted, the mattress behind him sinking beneath Blitz's weight. The night had finally come. He'd suspected his boss would escalate, but the fact it was really happening took its sweet time trickling through his outraged mind. Moxxie's vicious attempt to slam his elbow into the licentious imp's gut was too slow and easily thwarted as a large hand latched onto his arm, halting its trajectory.

"Blitz, I swear to fucking Satan, I will claw your eyes out of your skull and feed them to Luna! Get off me," he hissed quietly, hoping not to wake his snoring wife. She might just tell him to move over and give Blitz more space before falling asleep again anyway.

Before he could do much else however, a long, clammy, lithe body that was decidedly not Blitz pressed into him, strong arms wrapping around his much smaller form and pulling him closer. His heartbeat accelerated and a bolt of fear shot down his spine.

"Shouldn't make threats you can't follow up on, rodent."

Striker's breath wafted over Moxxie's ear in a gentle caress. He shuddered, tugging uselessly at the unyielding grip trapping him against the assassin as he felt Striker curl further, moulding himself into every part of Moxxie he could reach. Moxxie's tail twitched, caught between them and unable to find a gap to escape.

"What the fuck?"

It should have been a shout, but his throat was tense with fright, the words emerging in an embarrassingly pathetic whimper. One hand searched for Millie, desperately praying he could wake her before they were both slaughtered in their sleep.

"Quit wriggling," Striker rumbled, fingers lacing through Moxxie's to draw the hand back into his chest.

"Why are you in here? Get out."

Moxxie still couldn't manage more than a choked whisper, but the fact there seemed to be no intention of actually harming him allowed a rising indignation to take fear's place. He tried kicking, though that only served to annoy Striker, who immediately enveloped the flailing legs between his own. It was like being stuck in a patch of quicksand; the more Moxxie struggled, the deeper he sank.

"Someone hasn't fixed my window yet. It's cold."

That long, spiked tail snaked across Moxxie's shivering skin, coiling around their tangled limbs and draping itself over his abdomen. The quiet rattle as the tip continued upward and settled by his face sent a chill through him and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"That doesn't mean you get to- mmph!"

His final, barely audible attempt at protest was swiftly cut off by Striker's free hand covering his mouth.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," came the deceptively soft admonishment, arms and tail constricting in a painful warning. Moxxie groaned and went limp, hoping it would be enough to appease, the understanding he really was at his captor's mercy sinking to the base of his stomach like a concrete brick on the ocean floor. Striker chuckled and thankfully granted him the ability to draw breath after a moment, though he remained tightly entwined with the trembling little body in his clutches, chin resting in mock affection atop Moxxie's head as he murmured, "Good boy. Go back to sleep."

This was just another one of Striker's games, he told himself. If he stayed very still and didn't cause a fuss, his tormentor would get bored and leave.

Any minute now.

The dark outline of Millie's senseless form under the blanket was silhouetted against the window, her peaceful snores the only sound stirring the atmosphere. Striker's breathing had slowed too, apparently content to stay snuggled against him, leaching his warmth and sanity alike.

Well, fuck.

When several minutes had passed without any further threat, Moxxie forced himself to relax. There was nothing he could do anyway. If Striker wanted him dead he would be already. Staying alert all night would play right into the other's aims, showing him the intimidation tactics were working the second he saw his victim's tired eyes and frazzled demeanour the next morning.

Moxxie refused to let him win that easily.

He listened for Millie, his breaths steadying as he timed them to match hers and held the image of her beautiful beaming grin in his mind. Striker was bound to slip up eventually and when he did, Moxxie would be prepared for him. A new thought of slicing the trecherous demon's throat with his own knife flashed through Moxxie's head and he smiled, playing it slowly on loop until he managed to drift off again.

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tsarisfanfiction · 1 year

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Eclipse: Chapter 8

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades And this is why I should never try and predict reactions to my chapters... I'm amazed at the variety of guesses you all managed to come up with regarding the arrow, wow. Heads' up that next chapter might be up late, potentially as late as a whole day... Small warning: this chapter will get bloody (or should that be ichor-y?) I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<<Chapter 7

APOLLO VIII

An old nemesis Returns to taunt me again Leave my son alone

“If it isn’t Apollo himself,” a voice he hadn’t heard in several millennia, and would cheerfully have gone several more millennia without hearing again, sneered. “What an honour.”

Apollo considered himself an avid lover of words, written and verbal alike – he was the god of poetry, of course he was – but the way the last word was spoken left him feeling like he’d just been digested by Python – slimy, disgusting, and thoroughly sick.

That wasn’t to say he was any more enamoured with the rest of the situation; appearing from behind one of the yawning caverns pitting the surface of Tartarus was a figure nearly twice his current size, short dark hair slicked up into vicious-looking spikes and the most unremarkable part of his appearance.

His eyes were long gone – gone longer than Apollo had paid attention to his existence – replaced by the mechanical genius of Hephaestus in one of the forge god’s greatest mistakes, in Apollo’s furious opinion. They glowed like lasers, long before mortals had discovered that particular application of light, homing in on whatever their owner considered prey with no warmth at all. Right then, they were boring straight into Apollo’s essence, and he shifted until he was certain his injured, vulnerable son was behind him.

“Orion,” he snarled, not bothering to contain himself as his form flickered a little, revealing shafts of his divinity. He had never made a secret of his hatred for the giant, not since he realised the danger Artemis had been blindly falling deeper and deeper into; it had driven a temporary wedge between him and his twin, something he’d never realised could hurt so much until it happened, and had only begun to disappear again once she’d been free from his influence long enough to realise it had been there at all.

He wasn’t about to start making a secret of it now. Not for this monster, who had so nearly destroyed everything his beloved sister was.

“Apollo,” the giant mocked. His bow – a large monstrosity that would’ve been an impressive work of art in the hands of literally anyone else – was held loosely at his side, but his free hand was lingering near his quiver of vicious arrows, identical to the one Asclepius had just yanked out of his arm, and Apollo saw nothing but a silent threat.

Master archers didn’t need to hold arrows at the ready to fire instantaneously, and as loath as Apollo was to admit it, Orion was one of only two beings on his own par with a bow.

Being his bane – their bane – it had been a given, but that never made Apollo any less insulted by the fact.

“You were a fool for coming here,” the giant continued, but his tone was less warning and more amused. “You couldn’t defeat me in the Overworld; what makes you think you can challenge me here?” His mechanical eyes flicked obviously to Asclepius, behind Apollo, and it took all the self-control Apollo had not to tense up. He had to stay loose, keep his grip on his bow easy and his free hand floating near his arrows, in – as much as he hated it – a mirror of his bane’s own posture. Straying would do nothing but invite attack.

Orion had been his sister’s best Hunter, for a time. He could spot and exploit any weakness in his prey in a non-existent blink of his prosthetic eyes, and Apollo and Asclepius were very, very much his prey right then.

“Go crawl back to whatever hole you clawed your way out of,” Apollo retorted. “You had no business respawning so quickly.” Powerful monsters were supposed to take centuries at least to reform enough to be a threat, not barely a year.

Orion laughed. It was an unfairly pleasant sound, to go with his unfairly good looks. Apollo couldn’t have had a snake-footed, ugly mess for a bane, could he? No, his bane had to stand out from the crowd of his hideous brethren and look attractive.

“No business?” he mimicked. The look the laser eyes gave Asclepius behind him almost drew a growl from Apollo’s throat. He managed to hold it at bay at the last moment – the hunter before him would doubtlessly take it as a weakness to exploit. “How could I possibly stay slumbering when such a perfect prey came stumbling right past me?” Handsome lips twisted into a wry grin, showing a flash of Orion’s perfect teeth. “Or did you not know I can smell your children, Apollo?”

Apollo hadn’t known that, and the thought horrified him.

Orion must have seen something in his face, or sensed something, because he laughed again, a cruel sound that was far too melodious for what it was. “Artemis’ Hunters, your children – they’re the same to me. As for the ones that are both…” He shrugged, all loose and easy in the face of Apollo’s rising fury. “Phoebe should have known better, challenging me the way she did. Four thousand years and she was just as feeble as ever. Her face-”

Apollo’s arrow smashed straight through his lips, pinning his tongue to the roof of his mouth and forcibly silencing the giant.

“Don’t you ever talk about my daughter like that,” he growled. Behind him, Asclepius had let out a barely audible noise of distress and Apollo realised he hadn’t known. Hadn’t known his older sister, one of the few he’d spent any time with, had known as a sibling, was gone. “Phoebe outclassed you right to the end,” and he was proud of her for it, even though the grief over her death was heavy enough it ought to have been a tangible thing. She had been one of his earliest children, and while the Hunt was no guarantee of living forever, four thousand years had lulled Apollo into a false sense of security that maybe she would.

And then Orion had killed her. Culled her, in a mass slaughter of brilliant girls and women from across the millennia, and it was one more thing in the ever-growing pile of crimes Apollo could never, ever, forgive the giant for.

Orion yanked the arrow out, clearly unphased by the ichor dribbling out of his mouth and down his chin, and laughed again. “And yet, which one of us is never coming back?” he gloated. “She reached above her station and had to face the consequences.” Drool-like ichor should not make someone more attractive, in Apollo’s disgusted opinion, and yet somehow it did. “And she is not the only one.”

The giant fingered the complex string system of his compound bow gently, a lover’s caress, and a too-accurate mirror of how Apollo treated his own bowstrings. His fingers curled around his longbow’s single, simple string unbidden.

The movement got another handsome yet derisive bark of laughter from Orion. “Really, Apollo?” he asked, sarcasm dripping much like the ichor from his chin to the skin of Tartarus beneath them. “You think you can match my bow with that stick-and-string? Real archers left those inaccurate disasters behind centuries ago.”

Apollo thought of his sister and her Hunters, all reliably using traditional recurves and longbows, of his children, who between them spanned mastery of every bow style that had ever existed, and growled lowly. “It’s not the bow, but the skill of the archer,” he couldn’t help but correct. “And you-”

“Have always been the better archer,” Orion finished, smiling broadly. Gold stained his teeth. “This posturing is pathetic, Apollo. You cannot beat me. You have never been able to beat me. Even when you resorted to underhanded tactics, you still needed the aid of my own mother to send me here. And oh, look.” He spread his arms, and made a show of directing his laser eyes around. “There’s no-one here to help.”

Behind Apollo, Asclepius bristled, but he didn’t move. They both knew that he was no match for Orion.

Apollo was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t, either. Not alone, and not with his godly son. If Hades-

No.

Hades was not with them, and if he was, Apollo would have done his hardest to separate him from his son. He certainly couldn’t trust his uncle to fight in Asclepius’ defence, if he could even trust him to fight at all in the first place.

And besides, Orion was a giant, and Hades was the only Olympian with the luxury of a bane who could be defeated without a demigod’s assistance, and Tartarus was all out of those – and would always be out of those for the rest of time, if Apollo had any say in the matter.

Unfortunately, Apollo was only left with two options, and the menacing grin of his opponent told him that Orion was very, very aware of the same fact.

“What are you going to do, Apollo?” the giant leered, one hand ghosting down to caress the raven feather flights of his monstrous arrows. “Fight me and die here, or…”

The hunter took a step forward, close enough that neither of them needed a bow to reach the other with an arrow, and stooped down until his face was level with Apollo’s, laser eyes boring straight into his as he hissed.

“Run.”

Apollo was the god of many things. Outside of archery, fighting wasn’t – strictly speaking – one of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t throw a mean punch when he wanted to.

Orion’s smirking, smugly self-satisfied face was just begging for one, and Apollo obliged.

A quick twist of his torso, fingers falling away from his bowstring to ball up as he did so, and then his knuckles slammed with the full force of his pent up frustration, fury, and eternal hatred for the giant, straight into Orion’s zygomatic.

The crunch of bone, accompanying the crack of the giant’s neck as it snapped around from the force, was deeply satisfying, but Apollo knew it wouldn’t stop Orion. It wouldn’t even hinder him.

“Asclepius, go!” he ordered as he pulled his hand back, only to crash his other fist, still wrapped around his bow, into Orion’s nose.

“Father-” his son protested, but Apollo was in no mood for a debate.

“Get out of here,” he snapped. “Go up.”

A massive fist flashed through his vision before colliding with his own face. It took everything he had not to skid backwards from the force – Orion’s greater size gave him more momentum yet no reduction in speed.

“Better do as your daddy says,” Orion taunted, as Apollo lashed out again, increasing his size to match the giant’s and feeling the giant strain to stay in place.

Thankfully, Asclepius had not inherited Apollo’s own temper, and Orion’s taunt seemingly washed over him unacknowledged. It certainly didn’t appear to stop him from recognising that his presence was more a hindrance than a help and pulling himself together enough to run.

Apollo felt him go, and lunged for Orion’s arm as the giant immediately went for his quiver, no doubt intending to shoot his son down yet again. Equally sized, and equally strong, they ended up in a tug of war over the movement of his arm. Apollo’s nails dug into where bronzed skin was pulled taut over straining muscles and ichor trickled down Orion’s skin to join the drops already falling from the giant to the membrane of Tartarus beneath their feet.

Apollo’s own ichor was dripping down his face, too. Orion’s punch had crashed into his nose, shattering it and causing an irritating sting in his eyes even as it reset itself and sealed back up again. The pain was negligible – compared to the humiliation of the stomp from Cade back in an alleyway in Hell’s Kitchen it was nothing – but the fact that Orion could injure him as easily as he could injure the giant was an unwelcome and unnecessary reminder that the giant truly was his match.

With the hand not gripping Orion’s arm like a vice, Apollo slashed at the straps binding the quiver to the giant. He didn’t dare watch the result of the action – Orion had a free hand, too, and Apollo’s had to quickly come up and deflect it from slamming into his face again – but he heard the rattle of disturbed arrows, and the uncannily muted thud of something landing on a surface that was more taut than solid.

It certainly wasn’t enough to hinder Orion for more than a few moments, but having the giant’s arrows just that bit further out of his reach meant he couldn’t shoot Asclepius down as Apollo’s son fled the scene.

The deflected fist slammed into his shoulder instead of its original target, but it was the fist still holding Orion’s bulky, steampunk-themed compound bow, and one of the sharply curved limbs caught his lips in a glancing blow at the same time as his shoulder muscles shifted unhappily. Not a dislocation – even if his opponent was his bane, Apollo’s godly form wasn’t that fragile – but a warning of what could come if he let this physical confrontation drag out for too long.

He had no intention of letting that happen; the longer he spent fighting, the longer Asclepius was alone in Tartarus, and while his son was still a god, he was far more susceptible to Tartarus’ effects than Apollo liked.

Orion would not let him go easily, and it rankled Apollo to know that he couldn’t actually kill the giant, but he could, in theory, disable him – at least long enough for Asclepius to get to safety, and if he was really lucky, until he was done with the quest and left, too.

Apollo refused to listen to the voice that pointed out that he wasn’t a lucky god.

The massive compound bow swung towards him again, and Apollo held his ground as the giant’s fist connected, his own fingers trying to gouge at the laser sights that made up Orion’s prosthetic eyes. Unfortunately, Hephaestus was very good at what he did, and Apollo’s nails couldn’t even make a scratch, even if sharpened like feline claws. The rake of his claws down his bane’s too-handsome face, leaving golden lines carved into the flesh, was a poor consolation prize.

Orion’s spare hand went for Apollo’s wrist as he pulled back, grasping for the massive bow between them. His own longbow flew out of his grip, several yards behind him, but he paid that no mind; this was a battle he could not win with a bow.

It was one he could win by being the god of archery, however.

The massive hand around his wrist stopped his from moving any further, but that didn’t matter because Apollo’s hands were already where he wanted them, and even the ever-increasing pressure on his carpals wasn’t enough to stop his fingers.

Compound bows were complex. It was what gave them their impressive accuracy – the sniper rifle of modern archery, he’d heard some mortals call them, and it wasn’t an inaccurate comparison – but it came with one huge downside.

They were very, very fragile.

Sure, longbows had their own issues with being temperamental beasts, the wood reacting to differing environments and needing constant adjustments from the archer in order for their arrows to fly true every time, but the onus there was on the archer – and as the god of archery, Apollo had no problems at all instinctively adjusting to every possible environment that might alter his bow. Even Tartarus itself couldn’t take that away from him.

If a compound bow was damaged, however, there was very little an archer – even one as good as Apollo – could do about it without having to manually repair the bow.

One of the rarely-used seeds of knowledge Apollo held about bows was how to ruin them. It wasn’t something he liked to do, but in certain situations, it was necessary.

Like now.

Something in his wrist crushed to powder but he clung on, nimble fingers twisting a piece of metal here, a joint there.

Orion roared, the first angry sound he’d made since imposing his unwelcome presence on Apollo, and tried to yank his bow back, but Apollo clung on like a terrier. The foot crashing into his knee and making his leg buckle, the head slamming into his own hard enough that were he mortal, he would have been seeing stars, the teeth catching the sternomastoid muscle in his neck and tearing, causing hot, hot liquid to spill down his skin – none of it made Apollo let go as he steadfastly warped and ruined every single element of the complex bow.

It hurt.

It seared.

But Apollo had no choice.

No matter how much he wanted to tear the giant himself to pieces, no matter how much he wished every part that twisted and broke under his fingers was part of Orion’s body, that sort of combat was beyond him and would only lead to his own defeat.

A rush of cold assailed his throat as Orion tore his head back, a chunk of Apollo’s form going with it and leaving what had to be a gaping gap, gold splashing down to Tartarus’ skin like a waterfall, and he stumbled as the giant thrust against him with all his strength, landing on his rear on the giving membrane beneath him.

“How dare-” Orion demanded, face twisted into something ugly. Where before there had been gold dribbles down his chin, now his entire lower jaw was gold, like a lion that had just made a bloody kill – if lions ever made kills of beings with ichor, not blood, in their veins. Like the beast he was, his throat bobbed and as Apollo surged back to his feet, knowing that to stay down was to lose, he saw part of his own form disappear forever into the giant’s gullet.

The sight was as disturbing as it was disgusting, but Apollo didn’t – couldn’t – hesitate, throwing himself back at the bow and wrenching at the string. It snapped, the loose ends lashing out at both of them indiscriminately, and Apollo’s eye fell victim to its final resistance as the bow shattered.

Orion roared again, a rage so intense it couldn’t contain words, but Apollo still wasn’t finished. He couldn’t beat Orion, but he could delay him. Restrain him.

Weaving was Athena’s skill, not his, but bow strings needed twisting and sailors lived and died by their knots so he had some skill in that broad area (not that his half-sister would ever deign to call them overlapping disciplines), and with the string yanked out of the pulleys and levers that once held it in place, Apollo had a several-metre long piece of rope to twist a quick sailor’s knot into before lassoing it around Orion’s ankle.

The giant crashed down, although not without catching Apollo’s wrist on the way down and hauling him to the ground with him. Arrows fell from his quiver with a clatter, joining Orion’s own black menaces, and the pair of them fell heavily onto the collection of very sharp – and barbed, in the case of Orion’s – darts.

The pain wasn’t enough to make either of them cry out, but Orion’s face twisted even further into rage as he struggled against the string Apollo was hurriedly twisting around him, turning their fight into a wrestling scuffle on the ground as first Apollo, then Orion, then Apollo-Orion-Apollo-Orion was on top.

Perfect teeth coated in thick gold snarled down at him, the liquid falling onto his face and trailing into his eyes – the one that stung from the string’s last defence and the other, uninjured, one equally, as Orion kept struggling against the string that somehow had managed to do what Apollo had been aiming for and trussed him up.

“You haven’t won,” Orion spat, and the glob of ichor landed squarely in Apollo’s mouth, to his disgust.

Apollo glared up at him, spitting it straight back and splattering the laser eyes. Hopefully even Hephaestus’ creations wouldn’t like ichor seeping into their delicate mechanisms. “Yes I have,” he snapped, and with a massive heave he flipped both of them over one last time and scurried backwards, out of Orion’s restrained reach.

His ichor-stained hand found his longbow, almost dangerously in reach of Orion yet thankfully not quite, and he grasped it as he staggered to his feet. He was familiar with the sensation of swaying as he tried to stand from his time as Lester, but it felt wrong to be doing it as a god, no matter how much ichor was pouring out from his reconstructing neck. Still, he could pull himself upright, and even pluck several arrows from his quiver, delighted that it still had arrows in it without him needing to summon more. He nocked them all to his string at the same time, stumbling back a couple of steps to make sure he stayed out of Orion’s furious reach, before letting them fly.

They didn’t kill Orion, couldn’t kill him, but they could pin him to Tartarus’s membrane, stopping him from rising and breaking the string that tangled around him.

Apollo didn’t wait to watch him struggle. He turned his back on the vitriol being spat in his direction, accusations of cowardice and repeated insistences that he hadn’t won anything, honed in on his son’s retreating presence, and ran.

He could feel his form struggling to heal as he dashed across Tartarus, plunging through the Phlegethon without hesitation – he didn’t know if it would attack Orion the same way it attacked him but if nothing else it was a physical barrier between them – which undid all of the healing and then some.

Asclepius’ look of horror when he caught up with his son – the younger god likewise drenched in gold from his river crossing but enough a god of healing that those wounds, at least, were sealing up, if rather slower than Apollo would’ve liked – told him that he looked terrible.

“Father!” Old, wrinkled hands reached for him, but Apollo batted them away gently.

“Focus on yourself,” he insisted. “I’ll be fine.” He was still the stronger god, even if his injuries were worse. Asclepius couldn’t afford to spare his energy on anyone else.

His son’s eyes looked back the way they’d come, full of trepidation, and Apollo realised he was looking for – expecting – Orion to appear.

He smiled at him reassuringly, although he wasn’t sure how reassuring his expression looked when his face was still splattered with gold – most of it his own ichor. “He’s not coming,” he promised.

It didn’t have the effect he hoped, as Asclepius bit his lip, an expression he’d seen on his son’s face several times when he was a mortal teenager (it was an expression Will pulled sometimes, too). “But…” his son started, “Father… you can’t-”

“Defeat him?” Apollo finished for him, catching him by the elbow and guiding him to keep moving, away from where he’d left the furious giant and up, towards a way out. Asclepius made a sorrowfully agreeing noise. “No, I can’t,” he admitted, an edge of frustration adding a bite to his words, “but I can still make his existence very difficult. He can’t follow us.”

Admittedly, that was more a hope than a truth, but it was one that Apollo had to cling to, because the alternative was a terrible prospect.

Orion would not fall for the same tricks a second time.

If Asclepius had doubts, he didn’t voice them, and let Apollo lead him further on, over the sharp bite of glass as Tartarus’ membrane transitioned back into the sharp, unwelcoming material beneath their feet.

Monsters were watching them.

Apollo had been aware of them for some time – most eyes had left while Orion was around, perhaps more wary of the hunter than a god, but they’d been slowing increasing in number once more as they trekked higher and higher, and unlike his journey down, Apollo knew he looked a mess.

Both of them looked a mess, Asclepius withered and wearing tatters that had once been a proper chiton but were now riddled with holes, and Apollo with his still-resealing throat and various other injuries inflicted by Orion which refused to heal instantly, and the stares felt hungry.

It was an inevitability when the attack came, an en masse descent of opportunistic monsters sensing weakness and seeking to exploit it. Apollo could understand it – Asclepius was not, and had never been, a fighter, and Apollo was visibly injured – but that made it no less frustrating as he sent arrows screaming at their attackers, covering Asclepius as best he could as his son resorted to the only offensive ability he currently possessed and let his divinity flash out.

In the Overworld, that would be enough to disintegrate any of the monsters, but in Tartarus, the laws were different. Godly divinity was not necessarily the instant kill it was anywhere else, although it still gave them enough pause that Apollo had the time to send arrows through their skulls.

Unfortunately, there was one major downside to being an archer, and while it was normally no issue for Apollo, Tartarus once again posed issues. Snapping arrows into existence took more focus, more energy, more time, and with his injuries and flight from Orion (which was exactly what it had been, no matter how much it rankled that he’d had to), Apollo had only been able to replenish his quiver so much.

He ran out.

It didn’t leave him defenceless – he was still a god, still far more powerful than the monsters crowding him and his son – but it was a major inconvenience, and he ended up pressed back to back with Asclepius he was forced to let the monsters in close, his divinity more successful at destroying them than Asclepius’, but still not enough by itself, as he forced more arrows into existence, agonisingly slowly, and picked off anything that got close even against the divinity of two gods.

Damn Tartarus for muting them.

There was another flaw with that tactic; so exposed, so raw, he could feel Tartarus slipping into his essence, tearing at it and threatening to overpower the parts of him that reached desperately for his sources of power in the Overworld, so, so far above.

It was too dangerous to expose himself like that for any length of time, he realised in alarm, suddenly fearing what it was doing to his son. “Asclepius,” he started, but his son cut him off curtly.

“I know.”

Of course he knew. He also knew he didn’t have a choice, that this slow poisoning of his essence was the lesser of their worries right then.

Apollo let out a bark of frustration, because he would not, could not, lose his son to this senseless punishment, and flared out all the brighter, feeling his essence fighting against the assault.

A wave of darkness crashed over them. Behind him, Asclepius staggered, but the monsters disappeared, leaving them adversary-free.

Almost adversary-free.

Apollo willed a new arrow into his hand and whirled on the spot, essence still flaring, and drew back his bow to face the next threat.

Chapter 9>>

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #pjo apollo #pjo hades #pjo asclepius #pjo orion #tsari writes fanfiction #eclipse

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wackybuddiemewbs · 1 year

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Okay, caught up to the episode fully at long last.

And holy fuckin' shit. Buck!whumpees getting served... all of the pain and angst and yikes and the coma.

Some things I just need to spew out, even though none of it makes sense or is supposed to, but I just need to get it out of the system.

Bobby and Buck

The parallel of Bobby holding the baby and then later holding on to Buck as he's lowered down... OMFG. The fact that he says similar words "c'mere, kid", "c'mon, kid"... I just can't. They're so sick for this. And I'm so sick for this. This is so sick, sick, sick. And I'm here for it, crying my eyes out.

Also, magnificent callback to how the two began and how they clashed in the first ever episode. As I've mentioned in a previous post, I'd LOVE (and be deaded by it) to see Bobby coming more into his own as a father figure for Buck. It's something he's more or less shied away from, as he's done with Athena's kids, until a life-threatening situation come along. And boy, here it is.

Time to make that adoption official, Bobby. Boy's up for grabs.

Also also, the chili scene (weird name, but hey). For one, we get kind of a reverse between the two (Buck doing the cooking, Bobby going down internet research rabbit holes, which is a very Buck thing to do). But then Buck asking about the secret ingredient (and it ain't about the chili). And while Bobby provides him with the answer to perfect the dish, Buck's still none the wiser about what the secret ingredient is to bring his life to perfection.

Am I going to make a stupid joke about chocolate brown eyes factoring into this? No? Good that we all agree that this would be very embarrassing. But still, Eddie totally is the cocoa in that recipe, is all I'm saying.

Also also also, eternally interesting that we have Bobby struggling to move forward after his sponsor's death. And my guessing is that Buck's future now being on the line might just be the right catalyst to break him out of that vicious cycle. Like, him not giving up on figuring out what happened to his friend is good and right (and May's on the right track with it all... even though I am not a fan of civilian investigator doing this because they somehow can for reasons of their parents being in the profession... not a fan of those story lines, even though I love both May and Athena here).

But. There is a level of "obsession" to sticking to the past with Bobby, instead of looking for ways to move forward again. And Buck's accident as well as the recovery might serve just that purpose. To make Bobby see that he has new things to hold on to, a future to live towards. Because he's needed. Like, earlier on in the season, Bobby's been thinking about how the house is empty with the kids out (and he instantly adopted a dog because that guy is just dad shaped). To me, it felt like Bobby's been a bit lost well before things went down with his sponsor.

What's interesting to me is that this is something he shares in with Buck, even though they have very different ways of going about it.

Buck's basically on the opposite trajectory (leaving out the Daniel remark for the moment). Buck is not too invested in looking into the past, he's obsessed with the future (anyone thinking about those software updates again?). He is very much focused on looking ahead (helping to create a life that will reach further into the future, trying to find happiness that lies in the future, etc.).

Also, I will just say. Bobby dares to say "son" instead of "kid" at some point of this arc, I will lose it. Absolutely fuckin' lose it. And I will also totally lose any remaining shit I've got left in me if we see that guy praying for Buck. I cannot. I just cannot.

Buck noticing the small things but losing the big picture out of sight

Gotta say, I loved how they've built up the tension, and I felt like it reflected a lot in Buck noticing "small" things, until the big thing hit him in a flash. Buck saw the gasoline and stopped with the saw before sparks could fly. Crisis averted. He notices that the chili is missing a key ingredient. He is aware (has no real illusions) about how his parents may have just wanted to win an argument and how they do not approve of his life choices. He kept tabs on who went up the ladder truck when, which is why he knows it's his turn now. He notices something's off about the sounds in the sky. And then, hit in a flash.

In a way, I find that somewhat reflective of what we've seen with Buck thus far. Sure, he's made some truly life-changing decisions (hence big pictures). But in his quest for "true happiness" he's been all over the place.

He took inventory, got that armchair instead of a damned couch (obsessed about said couch to a very confused Bobby). Started with those self-help books. He hears about how Lucy may have been interim captain, which has him wonder about the big picture of where he fits in the firehouse in the future. The donor vs. dad thing - and how "the small deed" of filling a cup contributes to the big picture for someone else. Lev and him talking about what's potentially in store for him and Buck thinks the big milestones (wife, kids, house, you name it) are still on the horizon for him. But that's really just the details.

So my guessing is that they may want to hit the point home that Buck looks at the whole of it. To figure out what his true happiness is (and that he already has most of it, maybe just need that one co-worker to smooch him for good).

Parenthood

I felt like it was a very interesting choice that parenthood (and to a larger degree fatherhood, I felt) was at the forefront in an episode that ended on this... high note. Especially since one infamous father and certified DILF was not at all that present for that convo.

Like, I found it very deliberate that Eddie didn't factor into the fatherhood storyline as he normally would have. Because that is what we normally have when Buck's supposed to relate to his own position towards fatherhood, tangling things up with Eddie and Christopher (which, you know, Buddie).

Part of it, going by the stills, will be that they save it up for next week's episode (so I may never stop crying in my entire life over Christopher being at Buck's bedside). But I find it very interesting that they "removed" Christopher and Eddie as filters for Buck to reflect fatherhood through. And now we may very well get Eddie having to reflect on it without the Buck filter. Which is to say: He has to think about what it'd be like to be a father to Christopher without Buck in the picture. Which is interesting. To say the least. And potentially very, very gay. In the best possible way. Anywho.

Then we had other (grand-) father figures (Philip and Chim's father). I'm still pretty blank on what they wanna do with Chim and his father, to be honest. Also, Albert's way of acting keeps striking me as though there's more to it. I'm not yet sure what it is, but we'll have to see. I found it wonderful to have Hen tell Chimney that he should use his chance to say what he has to say (and reach some kind of conclusion that she's never gotten). After his father deprived him of the chance for all those years. And I do hope it offers him healing. But yeah, I'd have to sit on that a while longer.

So on to Philip... still somewhat a mystery to me, that dude. Like, was he really invested in "defending" his son, or was he - as Buck noted - maybe just not willing to let Chim's father have the last word on it? I am honestly unsure. I felt like him and Margaret were making an effort (as Chim noted, only on their best behavior). But I'm not entirely sure if that's coming from a genuine place of wanting to mend things with their kids. Or if they are much more focused on having that relationship with Jee as grandparents (you know, fresh starts and all). Like, as sweet as it was to see Margaret goof around with Jee (and what may come to highlight how far she's come along with her therapy)... it might also be rather bitter in the end. That she can be like this to her grandchild - but not to her own children.

What both fathers share in, to me at least, is how vastly different they are from Bobby as a father figure for Buck (and how inferior, really). Bobby's offering of advice and support comes from a genuine place, it always did. He helps Buck grow, and he's not really concerned to win an argument or to appear as the "better dad" or whatever. Even though he is. Dad shaped man, oh you. Like, it's not about appearances for him. But I feel like for Buck's actual parents, to a degree, it still is. Maybe they'll overcome that, but... I'm not sure.

Speaking of, the Buckley parents. Christ almighty, why does Margaret have to be so cringe sometimes? I guess this proved where Buck got this from at long last, because yeah, that's his mom right there. But. Oh. My. God. Why. Are. You. Like. This???

She really strikes me as the kind of mom that would've made everyone uncomfortable at any kind of school thing (and kudos to the actress for portraying it so well). She's so uptight and weird about it. But she's also nosy, while struggling so hard to let anyone see what cards she's got in her hand. Like, ugh. I can't with those kinds of people.

Her first impulse being that Buck would have a photo of Maddie's sonogram on his phone was both cringe and also so... devastating in a way? Like, great set-up for Buck's character arc here, but... that her first thought's not "oh, my son might be a father!" but that it's "oh, my daughter is gonna be a mom again, and he is also there to be an uncle again!" ... It is very telling, I believe.

Because Margaret and Philip didn't really compute Buck as that kind of person. And I do believe it was a deliberate contrast, after we opened the episode with Buck being great with the kids by the beach. Like, we as the audience know how great Buck is with kids, but for his parents, that's a total mystery.

Which is the absolute antithesis to Eddie telling Buck that he's Christopher's legal guardian. Eddie saw all this time that Buck's dad shaped, too. To the Buckley parents, he's still... anything but that. Margaret literally says to him that he's a "miracle baby", hence not really recognizing him as a rational, capable adult on his quest towards his own sense of fatherhood (son, not father). They still see him more as the troublemaker not ready to settle, it feels like.

Also, "miracle baby". Margaret. Why (yes, I know, for narrative purposes, but OMFG, lady, what the flying fuck's wrong with you???). The Buckley parents continue to push this idea of Buck being a miracle for as long as he provides services to others (either by saving or creating lives). They still have seemingly not grasped how important it is for them to recognize Buck's inherent value as a person and not just as a miracle that keeps on giving.

Also, the wording is just so... cringe. No, he's not a miracle baby. He never was. He was conceived to perform the miracle they could not, with the expectation of being the miracle bringer (and that he later on believed he disappointed said miracle by not being able to save Daniel). Like, Margaret, that's not a miracle baby. That's still a savior sibling you wanted to produce. Even if you put the miracle label on top, that changes nothing about the circumstance.

And if the writers want for them to learn that lesson... it certainly is the right place and time to teach them that. And if not... it will show what stuff they're actually made of, I guess. We'll have to see. As I said in a previous post, I don't know where they want to take the Buckley parents (more towards "redemption" or as the ultimate reminder of the reality that some people won't change out of their ways and that there are those relationships beyond repair).

On a quick side note: Gotta love the parenthood storyline with Hen and Denny. And the detail of her picking up baseball with Eddie when Denny started with it. Oh, I love her. I'll be interested to see how all of that plays out. I just feel like more trouble's ahead.

But. Back to Lightning McQueen I mean Evan (won't ever get over Oliver's facial journey there) I mean Buck and the parenthood issue. Like, I do believe that if we get an alternate scenario (that may very well answer the question what life would be like for him if he had indeed been the miracle baby to save Daniel), Buck will be brought to the realization that the big picture is already in place. With Eddie and Christopher and the 118 and Maddie.

Like, I can very well see them giving him "everything" of the things he told Lev were still on the horizon for him. Only to be dissatisfied, or desperately trying to get back to his reality. Because this is where he belongs. Those are the people he belongs with. And he doesn't need to hold on to a "dream" of being more than the donor in Connor's and Kameron's life to find fulfillment as a person, as a father. Because he's that to Christopher already, a co-parent. And I do believe they might hit that point home for him at long last. And it'd be epic.

In a Flash

I guess I don't have much to add. Everyone's basically expressed my views on it already. The tragic beauty of the red string connecting Buck and Eddie, both getting hit by the same bolt of lightning. Eddie crying out for Buck. Eddie coming to Buck's rescue, his own safety be damned. The Pieta-esque shot when Buck's being lowered to the ground. Eddie doing the whole "move, I'm gay" to get to Buck. Time standing still, only to jump forward after it all happened. The ending of the helmet on the ground... *chef's kiss*

You already are a family

That one struck me a bit. Because Eddie noting that to Buck is great foreshadowing, for one thing. But it might also prove to be the narrative reversal I'd so desperately crave. That Eddie says to Buck "We're already a family." That Buck is part of his family. And that Buck comes to the realization that he is already part of that family and doesn't need to be part of a dream family (his own that never was), or the one Kameron and Connor are building. That he wraps up his inventory and knows that what he wants is what he got - if only he gets to fully embrace his role as father figure to Christopher and certified DILF for Eddie.

Buck and Eddie (duh)

Did you think I'd end this post without obsessing a bit longer about Buddie specifically??? Yeah, no. I'm still not over all the angsty goodness we were given. I'm still at the edge of my seat over what's going on with Eddie (and Christopher) next episode. Will Eddie revert to his old ways and try to be stoic about it to keep face in front of Christopher? Will he break down in the face of the danger of losing yet another partner? Will he pull a Buck and get back into dating to cover up his feelings? Will Eddie's voice bring Buck back? Will it be Christopher's? Will Eddie take Buck's hand and beg him to stay with him? I don't know. All of it would be so epic. And I still can't wrap my head around all of those wonderfully awful options.

Like, there's great potential for Buck to reach some epiphanies, but they are just as well in store for Eddie here. Not only will he be confronted with the reality that he may have to raise Christopher without Buck's presence. But he will also have to reflect hard on why he made the choice to name that man Christopher's legal guardian. Because he could've died up on that ladder all the same, and then Christopher would've been "alone". Like, Eddie will have to think hard about that one. And he'll have to think even harder about why Buck is that person for him. What it means to him personally that he gave Buck that role in not just Christopher's but also in his life.

Plus, we may finally, finally, finally get them to talk about their shared traumas of either having witnessed the other nearly die... or nearly dying. Like, this is a gun that's been hanging on the wall for quite some time now. Time to fire it, right? *pew pew* Because they got very comfortable letting their talks run through the Christopher filter. They do things in Christopher's best interest. But what they still have to do is to talk honestly to each other about this. And that may open the door to something else. And that something else is very, very gay.

So yeah. I'm... not really coherent at this point. This episode was too much. And i may have to sit on that a while longer. Until then: Happy return of the weewoos and the ouchies, peeps!

Cheers!

#911 spoilers #911 season 6 #911 season 6 spoilers #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz #bobby nash #in which I ramble

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