#worlds apart fic
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Chapter 14: Into the lion's den /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: Y/N enters Koschei's lair and finally confirms some suspicions
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Again mentions of trauma and grief.
Notes: I'm so glad that I have almost all the chapters written cuz my fingers are fucking useless now and I can't write 🙄
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Worlds Apart Masterlist
The dark living room was immediately illuminated by faelights, papers scattered around the table, potions and a liquid simmering in a cauldron near the fire. She scrunched her nose at the rotten smell. A screeching, like a trapped creature sounded somewhere behind the closed doors that led to the basement, she shivered thinking what could be suffering in his hands.
Drawings adorned the walls, receipts and terrifying creatures. Her breath hitched as she recognized the circle with wyrd marks used to summon the ridderak. This was even more scary than Baba Yellowleg’s tent, the Matron would send her there regularly to check on the older witch and her home always made her bones cold.
“So..” He cleared his throat, those golden eyes turned to her direction, pinning her in place. “Tell me what. What troubles your heart?” He once again extended his hand and she quietly placed it onto his.
Mantyx almost gasped with the swirling of emotions that hit him when he touched her skin. Anger, hatred, pain, grief, pain was what burned brighter in that array of feelings that clouded her mind. He tried to take a look but he was met with a wall made of pure steel, unbreakable, unbendable and impenetrable.
But another thing caught his attention, singing beautifully to no one hear, a mating bond stood, he had learned everything about it in the years he was trapped there. A bond shared by two people that was stronger than everything, once the bond was accepted nothing could break it. He tugged at the string lightly, watching closely as she startled, her free hand flying to her heart. She didn’t understand what this was.
Near that cabin, a worried shadowsinger yelped in surprise as he felt a tug in his chest, like someone was pulling a string tied to his soul. Lucien looked at him with a raised eyebrow, asking him if he was alright. Azriel just shook his head, hand rubbing circles in his chest, in a soothing manner. His eyes focused back on the cabin door, he wanted to go there and kick it down, rescuing her but he knew he couldn’t.
“I see that you lost someone very important to you.” He pointed it out, going for the easiest approach, usually wasn’t hard to know what troubled people, they were too simple to read, always thinking they were good at hiding their emotions and thinking of him as a god for being able to read them like a cooking book.
“I lost everything.” She quietly replied, Y/N never really opened up to anyone after the war, just brushing their concerns off and focusing on her work to suffocate those drowning feelings. “I lost my sister, the only person that truly loved me, I couldn't even say goodbye. I lost my way, I lost myself after she was gone, and I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to what I was.”
Mantyx looked at her, the despair pungent on the tip of his tongue. The shadows in her eyes darkened as she frowned, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. He took a deep breath, feeling all of her negative emotions fill the void in his chest, he had to suppress a smirk at it, he fed from negative emotions, draining them and leaving the person numb.
“You can’t ever go back, all you can do is keep going and adapt to the change.” He offered and she scoffed.
“I would give anything, do anything to get her back.” Mantyx approached her. It was like the light couldn’t reach it, being sucked into a black hole, not reflecting. If it wasn’t for his proximity she wouldn't even have noticed.
But there it was, resting with an unsettling melody, the wyrd key that opened the gate atop Ramiel, what she needed to get home. She couldn't risk getting it just now, or else he would kill her and all of their efforts would be useless.
“What if I told you that I can bring her back?” He offered and her eyes lifted from the key to his gold orbs. She never knew about the extent of the other Kings powers, if Erawan was that powerful she imagined how powerful Mantyx and Orcus would be.
“You can do it?” She inquired, doubt started to coat her thoughts, she missed Asterin, what if she could see her one last time, or even better, get her back fully?
“You just need to do me a simple favor in return.” She closed her eyes, that was the only way. She shook her head in agreement.
“What do you need?” She opened her eyes, determination burning in that gaze. “I’ll do anything.”
“Bring me Nesta Archeron.” He said and she nodded, Mantyx smiled. His hand extended towards the door that slowly opened to reveal the green island he lived in. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”
Y/N bowed to him, her eyes tracing the key that moved up and down with each breath he gave. She turned around, slowly walking outside, she could still feel his eyes on her when she crossed the bridge, so she didn’t dare to look to where she knew they would be, she kept walking forward until her frame disappeared from his line of sight. Just then she let out the breath she was holding.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Azriel and the others reached her halfway back to the Manor, she hadn't even noticed she had walked so much, her tensed muscles and shivering body were the only indications of the fear she had felt alone in that cabin. Azriel touched her arm, making her spin in her heels, collapsing against his chest. Shuddering breaths left her lips as she tried to calm herself.
“Did he hurt you?” She shook her head and Azriel breathed with relief, his shadows moved around her in a protecting way, ready to strike at anyone who dared get too close to her.
“We should go back, we don’t know what is lurking around in those woods.” Lucien advised, also worried about the fragile form that clung to Azriel for dear life.
They all started to head back, being surprised by the giant wyvern baring his teeth at them, poison dripping from his fangs, he looked anxious, like he felt all of her distress through the connection he shared with his rider, and by the way she pushed Azriel out of the way, stumbling until her chest and forehead were pressed against his nose, he probably felt.
Meraxes instantly relaxed with her touch, sniffing her scent and declaring she was alright. Y/N sobbed against him, her hands rubbing his leathery skin up and down, until she calmed herself down.
“I’m okay, I promise.” She breathed and the wyvern nodded, giving one last look to the males before stepping aside and allowing their access to the house. She let go of him, following the rest of them inside, plopping herself on the couch.
“Why did you go inside? You could be dead now.” Lucien slowly started, worry filled his voice, Y/N had become someone important to him and he couldn’t fathom the idea of her being killed by that damned monster.
“We needed answers.” She simply replied, shrugging.
“And did you get them?” Jurian asked, leaning against the wall that led to the kitchen.
“His name is Mantyx, the middle brother of Erawan and Orcus, a Valg King.” She started, all of the males looked at her. “He was the one who summoned the ridderak that attacked me, he was after Nesta and her powers.”
“Does he have a key?” Azriel asked, his eyebrows furrowed as the engines in his brain worked.
“He carries it around his neck.” Lucien cursed loudly, how would they get it?
“How did you get out?” Jurian once again asked all the right questions.
“I promised him that I would get Nesta.” Azriel's eyes widened. “I just needed to get out to tell you all this, chill.” She said to him, her blue eyes piercing him back in place and he didn’t dare to argue.
“What do we do now?” Lucien inquired, rubbing his temples.
“I don’t know about you, but i’ll have a bath, i’m feeling disgusting.” She said getting up, leaving the males behind her.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Her chest ached as she sat in the scalding water, trying to rub all those feelings away from her, but it was useless. She then reached for the book Morrigan had found in the Hewn City, not having time to read it in the trip until now. She opened the book and focused on the fancy handwriting, allowing her brain to shut down from the real world and just pay attention to the words in those pages.
“It was during the night that he came, talking with a sweet voice, promises of a better world and absolution to those who bowed to him and allowed his angels a home. The god of conquest was how they called him.
He brought her, with dark hair and dark eyes, she feeded from life and used the remains to build weapons made of human bones. They called her The Weaver, and her twin, The Bone Carver, one more terrifying than the other. They weren’t angels, they were the gods of death, draining life from the earth and eating our souls.
They talked about how lucky we were, claiming to be princes and princesses from their homeworld. No one knew how they came or where they came from, but all we knew was that it was all related to that necklace, made of a dark stone and with an unknown shape. They had come from the north, many guessed they were a plague sent by the Night Court to terrorise us, but even the High Lord feared them, he couldn't control them, no one could, so they took what they pleased.
It was Celeste Vanserra, the Fireborn that brought us hope, the most powerful fire carrier the world has ever seen. She locked The Bone Carver with the help of the cauldron in the prison first. This made the fae wars easier, but their army was too big to be brought down, so they had to change their strategy.
Divide and conquest is what they called it. They managed to separate The Weaver, and once again, with the help of the cauldron, Celeste and her fire locked Stryga in the woods, in a cabin no one dared to get close to. Whenever a general fell, their army fell with them.
The High Lords followed Celeste to the battlefield, following her command and doing what she said. The final battle was in the lake, where Celeste used her powers to create a fire circle around Koschei and his monsters, trapping him inside, not knowing this was his biggest weakness, her fire was the only thing that could kill him. But before Celeste could, he killed her, piercing her heart with a sword.
The High Lords seeing their strongest fall, decided that they weren’t enough to kill Koschei, so they used the cauldron imbued by their powers to trap his soul to the island. As long as this world still exists, Koschei cannot be killed, his soul is bound to the Earth itself. Only the power of the cauldron or the fire of Celeste can free him from his prison and finally kill him.
With their failure to end the biggest threat our world has ever seen, they erased Celeste’s name from history. If no one remembered her, no one would remember how weak they were compared to Koschei. But her fire was still alive in the blood of her offspring, and the family Vanserra is the closest we have to a chance of killing him, unfortunately those who don’t learn their history tend to repeat it.”
Y/N gasped, the water already cold as she discarded the book and jumped out of the tub, opening the door to her and Azriel’s room. He sat on the bed, eyeing her up and down, following the droplets of water that ran down her curves, but her sombre expression brought his eyes back to her face, ignoring the temptation of looking down.
“What happened?” He asked and she took a deep breath.
“I know how to kill him.”
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
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#azriel#shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#moonlightazriel#night court#velaris#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#sarahjmaas#azriel acotar#azriel x oc#worlds apart fic
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What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)
#witch hat tag#orufrey#er.... i'm too tired to have anything to say..i worked several days on this.#wait.. didn't i say just recently here that i probably wouldn't ever depict 'what if alaira is qifrey's sort-of ex'. What's going on#i don't even remember deciding to draw this..it's all a blur..i'm not sure why i WOULD decide to draw delicate scenes in my head#that i wouldn't really want to share with anyone/discuss so why did i draw it...#some part of me really really wants to draw things that are more and more true to myself...#maybe because of my alienation with most romance/shipping/dynamics the rest of the world depicts.#orufrey really is perfectly suited to me - what i read in the text and what is in my head. well anyway#i am TIRED of drawing poses and angles and..maybe now i will actually take a break from drawing bc of the tediousness of Angles#btw it really is a 'stretch of time' . . . assuming witches graduate age 18-20#well orufrey are canonically 30-ish. they've only had agott around for presumably about TWO years (?) bc she took the test age 10#and it feels like oru moving in/unknown atelier acquisition/building (?) .. i guess that could be a year or so before agott at most#(she was the first disciple) so... ????????? What about the other 7 or so years ?!?!?!!?!?! Unemployed Brimhat Hatred era#that time is very nebulous. after qifrey went to the tower i feel like it's been implied he and oru drifted apart a little.#certainly they didn't live together at first... no way. that doesn't feel like how it is based on things oru has said about becoming Eye#idk. I'm tired now. i don't usually think of alaira as necessarily qifrey's ex and this being how things went in that 'sliver of time'.#i usually prefer the idea that they have their first kiss with each other in their 30s cause That's Just The Orufrey Lifestyle#just felt like making a more relatable alternative view of my own Cai Orufrey Canon one time. btw im a big monoshipper and it hurt a bit#let's leave it there. this is surely the most i've worked on a 'single' art - though now i realise just how much longer the fic took :')
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“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant on asking me this, Hal. I just mentioned to Barry that I talked with the head Easter Bunny once and now everyone keeps asking me if I think the Easter Bunny is real! Why do people keep asking me? I’ve met them. I don’t understand why I have to ‘believe’ in the Easter Bunny for them to be real! They exist!”
Hal put his hands up and stepped back, clearly not expecting the frustrated and somewhat hostile response of Billy who slumped back into his seat, which was slightly less satisfying in his bulkier body, and began running his hands through his hair.
The repetition of being interrogated over a simple comment was not only bewildering but had gotten increasingly more annoying to answer as somehow the members of The Justice League, the literal most powerful group of people on earth, didn’t seem to understand a piece of basic knowledge.
Billy was not only very tired of being asked the same thing but even more-so he wanted the laughing at his ordinary response to stop.
He paused and looked Hal dead in the eyes then began to speak in the most dead tone Hal had ever heard from the usually cheerful man.
“Hal, I know the Easter Bunnies are real because I had to spend two, very long weeks personally overseeing the creation of their union that made sure they no longer routinely experience unsafe working conditions and helped establish 8 hour working days so they no longer get overworked or are required to do 80 hour weeks prepping for Easter and get punished for doing less or don’t get paid”,
Billy’s previously slow, blank tone grew more rushed and frustrated as he went on,
“I mean, I didn’t even do much other than sit there and look intimidating by throwing around lightning sometimes and make sure the Easter chicks didn’t do any funny business or tamper with the legal process!
It was in all the papers in Fawcett! I had my picture taken with them and everything. But Hal. I can guarantee you that the Easter Bunny exists. Please. Please stop fucking asking me.” Finally done, Billy slumped onto the table with a loud clunk.
Hal stood there shocked for a moment. “Marvel, did you just imply there’s multiple easter bunnies and they established a form of government?!”
Billy, with seemingly tremendous emotional effort, lifted his head from the table by a few inches and looked Hal in the eyes with a pleading tone, “If I just say no, will you please stop asking me?”
“Absolutely not, now I have even more questions”
Billy let his head fall back onto the table with an even louder clunk and groaned.
#captain marvel#billy batson#dc#shazam#dc captain marvel#this is apart of a larger Fawcett world building thing I’m working on#won’t be a fic but will be a massive chunk of ideas on how cool it would be for Fawcett Citys logic to run how a genuine child would expect#& have it be partially the reason why marvel is just sorta Like That#hes not actually naieve. it’s just how logic works in Fawcett#including the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny existing within Fawcett#as Fawcett city operates like how a kid imagines it would#teachers actually live at school. there’s a floor in all Fawcett school buildings thate residential space for staff#if someone needs glasses and loses them. they simply cannot see Velma style#Monsters under the bed are also real. Some people keep them as pets.#i got so much more. it’s gonna be a blast once I get to finally finishing it.#but currently I’m having fun exploring the misconceptions a kid has of the world and how & if I can apply it to the au#this is also my first time writing anything non dnd setup description in about 5 years so please give me some leeway#bones writes
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Not me looking at my notes for to smut scenes that are basically right after each other and seeing that both revolves around James having his head between Regulus' thighs.
I was just like, oh silly me I accidentally got the same idea twice, let me just combine these.
But NO, one is James edging Regulus with a blowjob and the other is James eating Regulus out featuring some overstimulation. Those are clearly not at all the same.
#the scenes also have to stay apart for some minor plot reasons#someday I'll write edging and overstimulation in the same smut scene though#it's needed#fic: buy me your world#(the extended edition though)#(idk if I'll be writing those chapters too or just leave it be)#jegulus#james potter#regulus black#marauders#starchaser#sunseeker
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#some of y’all just want to watch the world burn#learn to have fun and enjoy things without microanalyzing the shit out of something damn#you won’t proofread your own fic but you’ll tear a romcom apart#alrighty then#red white and royal blue
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📓 :3
:D!
@mortimerlatrice got me thinking about a KimChay Chrestomanci AU, so more of that.
the Chrestomanci series, sidenote, is an absolutely delightful fantasy series by Diana Wynne Jones. it's composed of mostly independent stories set in a universe of 12 parallel universes (called Series), each with their own string of worlds (except Series 11). generally speaking, every person has eight identical copies borne into other series than their own, but very occasionally all nine lives will be borne into one person. this nine-life enchanter has all the power of nine magical people in them and is therefore the only person powerful enough to fill the role of Chrestomanci to regulate magical use and prevent any abuse of it across the 12 series.
which cool, very fun story premise actually, but not what I care about here. I'm setting kp in one of the series that doesn't deal much with magic because I don't care about magic meet mafia, I care about Chay having nine lives and all the ways that could make things worse.
(cw: non-permanent but slightly graphic character death under the cut. ft a dash of actual character death, but that only applies to Tawan.)
Chay doesn't have all his lives when canon starts. he lost his first one the same day he and Porsche lost their parents when he fell out of his crib trying to investigate the noise. he lost his second to food poisoning, before Porsche started working for extra food money and they had to make every scrap stretch. he lost another when a debt collector hit him too hard and snapped his neck. (Porsche wasn't home for that day. Chay told him he wasn't either.)
Chay loses his fourth life in the warehouse. it actually wasn't intentional on anyone's part -- Tawan's hired meat weren't careful enough bringing him in, and Chay's luck has his head hit a curb or scrap metal at just the right (or wrong, as it were) angle to kill him instead of concuss him, and head injuries take so long to come back from. Tawan drags out the charade because he wants Porsche desperate, not angry, and Porsche is in too deep of denial to accept the possibility of Chay actually being dead not to fall for it.
Kim arrives before Chay comes back to life. it's...bad. Porsche is screaming for him to get Chay out. Kim first checks Chay's breathing. failing to find that, he frantically (but carefully!) hauls Chay upright. that's when Chay's head flops limply to the side and reveals the dried blood down the back of his neck, which Kim had already felt grabbing but refused to process.
Kim sees red.
Tawan knifes Big. Porsche's shouts break through the fog threatening to overwhelm Kim. then Tawan gets one very distraught, very angry, very murderous Kim materializing in front of him and going right for his eyes. it doesn't matter that Tawan's the one with a weapon, he could've had an armory and that couldn't have helped him. Kim is very, very, very good at fighting, and he's on a mission to hurt. but he's also missing his control, and kicks Tawan in the kidney so hard Tawan stumbles back into a pile of scrap and, in true irony, jostles it hard enough the end of steel beam falls on his head. as discovered earlier, metal and concrete are not kind to heads, and bullet proof vests certainly can't protect from that.
it's too quick and too kind, and Kim stares at him disbelievingly, half a mind to drag Tawan out and beat out the little life he's surely still clinging to, when Chay groans. Kim first thinks he hallucinated it, but then he sees Chay move and he's so relieved he was wrong that he shoves everything else out of his mind and just gets Chay out. then everything and one trailing shouty Porsche slams back into him the minute Chay's out of his arms and with the paramedics that Kim bolts to go hide in a dark corner in his apartment and fail to process any of it.
Chay misses all of this btws. He was dead, then he was back with a headache, and he loves Porsche but he needs Porsche to please shut the fuck up and get him some tylenol.
then apartment confrontation, where Kim says I'm sorry and shoves off even quicker because all he can remember are those moments when he'd been so sure Chay was properly dead. club scene goes down even worse when Kim yells at Chay for making stupid reckless choices that could get him killed, and Chay demands to know why Kim even cares, and Kim goes pale with anger that Chay doesn't care that he (only nearly, surely) died, and it's all very terrible and ends in them storming away from each other.
then comes Yok's bar.
Chay dies. Kim had taunted them into a direct fight inside instead of picking them off outside, and it should have been fine, would have been fine, had Chay not had a bit more awareness and looked over to see Kim pinned between two guys and rushed to help only to get shot by one of the goons on the other end of the bar. he bleeds out while Kim kills off the rest.
Chay comes back to a bar full of bodies and Kim (clutching) cradling him. Kim isn't crying. he isn't really doing much of anything other than clinging and staring off into nothing with a thoroughly haunted expression.
Chay blinks and tentatively lays his fingers against Kim's cheek. "Kim?"
Kim's eyes snap to him, but still don't quite see him. he stays looking blank for a few seconds that feel like hours before saying matter-of-factly, "I've snapped."
"Kim!" Chay protests, distressed.
"It's okay," Kim says, still matter-of-fact but smiling tenderly, "better to be mad with you than without."
it takes a while to convince Kim he's not insane and that Chay's really back. Chay's not certain he fully manages it. but his death also shook loose a lot of confessions Kim normally couldn't say out loud. ("why--" Chay starts, voice cracking, "why did you say 'I'm sorry' that day?" / "You were supposed to be safe," Kim replies hoarsely, mad smile slipping for tears.) there's more clutching and clinging, this time by Chay too. both of them manage to forget they're in a bar of dead bodies until Porsche and Kinn come crashing through the door.
"Chay!" Porsche yells when he first sees him.
"Chay," Porsche pleads brokenly when he sees Chay's blood soaked shirt.
"Not mine!" Chay says quickly, and would've been given away by how fast Kim's head snaps around in any other circumstance. "See?" he says, raising his shirt to show unblemished skin, "No injury."
this does a lot to reassure Porsche, but Chay can tell Kim still thinks he's a little bit insane. Chay decides that's fine for now, because dying takes a lot out of you and apparently everyone around you too and it's unfair to expect Kim to just bounce back from him bleeding out on him, he'll work on it after a shower and dinner.
I'm not writing this AU because I only really have these two vague scenes in my head, but Chay having multiple lives making his existence in the mafia hurt more than canon's calls to me, it really does.
oh, also: in the AU source material, one of the nine-lifers has one of his lives removed and stored into a ring for safekeeping. he later gives this ring to his to-be-wife as her wedding ring. I'm not sure yet how to work that into this AU because Chay's contact with magic and other magicals would be slim to none in this, but please picture how this would absolutely wreck Kim, because there's nothing Kim wants more than to safeguard Chay but as far as he's concerned, he's already failed Chay in that regard twice. 😈
[[ ask me about fics im not writing ]]
#kinnporsche#kimchay#ask game: fics im not writing#this idea is fun but im only really here for vibes#and i already have many similar vibes in timeloop AU so im gonna stick with that one but like...so much fun 👀👀#ANYWAYS vague possibility for how chay meets magicals: in charmed life they mention looking for a 9-lifer off world/outside of series 12#chay's that 9-lifer in this case#originally not the candidate they wanted because he's in a different series AND a non-magical world to boot#then he gets involved with the mafia and all these government officials go Uhm#christopher: what's the problem i smuggled black market goods for years as a kid#government officials: uHM?!#christopher musing to himself: and that resulted in gabriel getting blown apart for a few days hmmm maybe not#christopher then meeting cat post apple scrumping: are all nine-lifers simply criminals as children??? is there no hope for us???????#i love Very Specific AUs made for an audience of me and 1.5 people can u tell 😂
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Inspired by this godly post which unlocked a part of my brain I didn't know existed, and solidly gave me complete and utterly brainrot until I wrote something
A thousand thanks to Lily for her wonderful help :))
"Does Kelly not mind you spending all your time with me?" Daniel asks, because she's Daniel and once she's thought something she can't keep her fucking mouth shut, even if she knows it's trouble.
Max looks up, pausing his set of weights, and blinks at her. Daniel feels her cheeks warm. One day, that mouth of yours will run you straight into trouble, young lady, her mum used to tell her, voice firm. Good girls know when to keep quiet. Daniel used to just laugh at the warning. Her laugh is loud and the opposite of quiet, but she used to know that everyone always loved her laugh.
"No," Max says after a beat and then continues lifting. Daniel hates the way her gaze tracks over him, lingering on the movement of his muscles, the ease with which he lifts the weight. Tawny hair brushed out of his eyes, cheeks dusted warm from the exertion. "Of course not."
"Why of course not?" Daniel asks. She wants to sew her mouth shut. This time, Max didn't look over as he answers.
"Kelly's very secure, she's not like other girls. And besides, she knows you."
It's strange. When Daniel was seven and Michelle eleven, they'd gone rock pool fishing. Michelle had been crouched over a shallow pool of water, her finger delicately brushing the tentacles of the anemone. Daniel had been scaling the rocks, wanting steeper, taller, more.
She'd found the shark first, nestled high at between the rocks, and for a beat she hadn't known what she was looking at. Just details, but nothing collective. Rotting smell. Shrivelled holes where eyes should be. Scales of silver lightning. Rubbery fish picked clean. The flash of bone, pearl white.
Then she realised what she was staring at, and screamed. Her father held her while her mother scolded her. I told you not to go climbing! It's too dangerous, Daniel. Why can't you just be good like your sister and stay by the shallow pools?
And then, later, ice cream. Her dad, beside her, explaining the horror away.
It's just nature, Dani. The waves wash them up, and they get stuck there. They can't get back to the sea, and then the sun dries them out.
They drown on air, Michelle helpfully pointed out, her feet kicking happily as she licked her 99. Daniel just just nodded, ice cream untouched. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the sunken holes, the rotting flesh.
She hasn't thought about that moment for years, but suddenly it washes back over her. She feels simultaneously both. The child, staring at the carcass, frozen in shock. The shark, burning up in the sun, chocking on air.
"What does that mean?" She asks, and somehow her voice is normal, is fine. She's fine. She's not a girl or a shark. She's stupid and a fool and a gawky, ugly idiot, but she's fine.
Max manages to shrug, even with the 50kg weights. "You know. Just that Kelly knows you. She knows what you're like. And she knows me too, of course."
Daniel swallows. She nods. She hates everything about herself.
"That's sexist," she forces herself to say lightly because if the silence stretches anymore, Max might notice and set his weights down and look at her, and Daniel can't bear that. She doesn't want his eyes on her, taking in every blemish and imperfection. The boyish, ratty clothes she works out in and her curls gone frizzy with sweat and her inked skin, so different to Max and Kelly's pale, perfect complexions.
"What's sexist?"
"Saying she's not like other girls," Daniel tells him, setting down the weights she been doing. Instead, she goes to grab the skipping rope, just for something to do.
Max laughs. Daniel's glad she's turned away. Her cheeks are burning again.
"It's the truth. You, of course, Daniel, are not like other girls either." He says it lightly and ends with a chuckle, as if it's all just a joke. Daniel drags a sweaty hand over her cheeks. Burning, burning, burning.
Apparently, in Max's mind, she and Kelly are the same; both not like other girls. Kelly, with her faultless makeup and wonderful daughter and classy dresses and perfect feminity. One end of the scale. Daniel, the other. Barely even considered "a girl." Always one of the boys, only woman in f1 for a reason.
"Thanks," Daniel says. She wants to make it sound humorous, like she's in on the joke too. Instead, it's too cold; muttered as if she actually gave two shits about the conversation anyway. She has an F1 season to prepare for, she's too busy to care about stupid shit like this.
There's a beat of silence as Daniel stretches out the rope, feeling the plastic flex and give. Then, Max exhaling, the gentle bump of his weights against the floor, the workout bench shifting as his centre of gravity changes. Daniel keeps her back to him, ignoring it all.
"I did not mean it as insult," Max finally says, stubborn. Daniel forces a laugh, turning to give him a smile, all teeth.
"Of course not Maxy. I get that." Voice light and blithe. One of the boys.
She thinks he'll drop it, but instead, his frown only grows. Pinched brows, thin lips, cheeks growing blotchy. Blue eyes regard her, intense and unyielding. She burns from the inside out.
"I've upset you," he says, in that blunt, genuine way only he can do. Daniel barks out another laugh.
"Don't be stupid. You're not important enough to ever be able to get under my skin." She gives him another smile with only teeth. She feels insane. Her mother tells her good girls stay quiet.
"I'm sorry," he tries again, growing frustrated now, "I did not mean -"
"I told you, you didn't upset me," she drops the skipping rope without actually using it. "Anyway, I'm bored. Wanna get lunch now? Or are you still trying to pump those muscle with more testosterone?"
Max gives her one last, searching look before standing. They're almost the same height. She wants to shrink to nothing.
"That is not how testosterone works, Daniel," he says with the air of an overworked teacher. He looks at her with a smile, uncertain but genuine. She laughs, allowing him to move the conversation on.
She walks out of the gym first but holds the door for him. He grins, relieved. His fingers skim hers as he takes it and she lets go. A chill runs through her. Cold like scales, cold like ice cream untouched.
Follow up here!
#whole lot of internalised misogyny to unpack here#in my head Daniel is looking like Tash Sultana in the music video for “Jungle”#Max just meaning :))) Kelly knows you and she knows me :))) and she knows we are both two good people who would not cheat :)))#while Daniel just going into an existential crisis of#:((( Kelly knows Max and I :((( and I am zero threat to her because I must be utterly undesirable :((( and not Max's type at all :(((#maxiel#girl!Daniel#for the first time ever lol#my fic#ending involves the tension between them growing and growing#and Kelly watches them share a podium and sees the way Max wraps his arm around Daniel's shoulder and hugs her tightly#and the way Daniel laughs so happily and loudly everyone can hear her#and suddenly Kelly realises she had been wrong and Daniel was a threat#and basically gives Max an ultimate to choose one of them and stop all contact with the other#somehow Daniel finds out and just locks herself away from the world during summer break because it's not even a question who max will pick#and their story ends with Max knocking on her door with looking annoyed with a bunch of drooping flowers#and before Daniel can even say anything he's stepping into her apartment and getting a vase from her cupboard#while complaining about how he ordered the flowers that morning but the florist fucked up his order and of course the flourists in the#Netherlands are much better and soon he will take Daniel there and pick proper flowers like tulips for her#she stares at him in pure disbelief and then starts to laugh. and Max looks over and laughs too and they're still smiling when they kiss#:)))))#apologies but I'm a sucker for a soppy cliched ending lol
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like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid
Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.
"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.
Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.
"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.
"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.
Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-
"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."
Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."
Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.
There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.
"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.
"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.
In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.
"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.
Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.
In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.
"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.
Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."
Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.
Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.
"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."
Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.
"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.
He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.
He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.
Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.
"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.
"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.
It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.
Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.
The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.
He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.
"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"
Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.
"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."
Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.
Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.
Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.
The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.
"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.
"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.
"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."
Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."
A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.
"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."
"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.
Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."
"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.
"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"
Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.
Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.
It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.
He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?
If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.
There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.
"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.
Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.
"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.
Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.
Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.
"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.
"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.
"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"
Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."
It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.
Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."
"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.
Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."
Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.
Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."
#uhhhh anyway. come to killjoys world with me#I keep calling these two my mongoose and snake#they take out their worst on each other but at the same time it's like they were *made* for each other#also a few notes in the tags: kobra repeats himself a lot. that's intentional. it's because I do it irl#quite honestly at this point I might almost have a stutter??#anyway also there's a TON of super vague song references in here. I almost called this ''a scar away from falling apart''#but I couldn't stop thinking about that one boygenius song while I wrote this. would you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?#also the two(2) minor refs to famous last words!!!!#and very very loosely the ''what a pair they make'' line is bc what a catch donnie came up on my playlist right then#also this is WAY more swearing than I would usually write but... it just felt right? like it helped the flow?? and fit the characters? idk#ANYWHOMST. random danger days precanon fic. the girl isn't here yet.#she speaks!#HMMM do I need a writing tag for this blog?#she writes!#danger days#the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#kobra kid#fun ghoul#K I think I've got it covered#wait trigger tags#self-harm tw#self mutilation tw
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They won't sleep tonight.
They couldn't even if they wanted. Not after everything, standing before nothing, their sides digged up and empty and lost and all that remains close being each other, crumbled and less than half of themselves, trying to form something less than a whole.
But Jaskier insisted, faint as it sounded, because she was stumbling on her feet and her shoulders were dragged by the earth and her eyes hadn't gone a second without flooding throughout the day. So much that he knew he had to save some of his tears to give her, in case hers ever dried up. Not letting her hurt bereft of tears, at least he could give her that.
The bed is fit for two whole people. Broken, hidden from her, a smile.
They won't sleep tonight.
They will say it's only for a few moments of rest, if rest could ever be so agonizing. They will say it's no use to roam the continent now, in the dark of the night, holding themselves from collapsing onto each other only for the sake of the names constantly hanging from their lips, now by so weak a string they almost let them drop. They will say it's only for rest.
And this is what it is.
This, and also the way he takes off his coat and his vest and suddenly his shoulders appear so shrunk under the worn-out shirt that she rests her hands on them without thinking, because they look like hurting. She caresses more than rubs them, and hopes it's enough. It's love, she won't say. It should be enough.
This, and also his hands coming up to unlace her shirt and help her peel it off her body, and then her skirt, and then, she stands still in her undergarment, and waits for him to also strip to his shirt. And then they face each other, hands on their sides, tired and empty, and they stare.
He affords a smile, faint. She smiles back. It's all they can afford.
This, as they slip under the thin blanket and they haven't done it for quite a while, but it feels so familiar now, like slipping back into their older broken molds, only they don't fit quite right anymore. This is a different kind of broken.
How gentle, then, how kind, to crumble again together.
His arms are open, forever open and waiting, and she thinks none of it as she crawls inside and wraps her body around his, clings tight and brusing. He happily welcomes the bruising. It's proof she's still here.
Her nose nuzzles into his shoulder and he buries his face in her hair, and breathes in the ashes and the exhaustion and the pain and the lilac and everything that makes her. Deep breaths, nonstopping. So that he memorizes the scent.
He only pulls back just a little, just to take a look at her eyes. Swollen and cut and bloodshot, and he suspects his are not much different as they're mirrored. But there's comfort, too. There, pooling between the crinkles along with the tears, carved between her eyebrows.
At least, at least.
He knows he's not much. At least, just enough. Enough to find the faint wave of hope between the flood of her eyes. Enough to mold a little dimple on her cheek where his thumb strokes, and make her eyes flutter close.
Less than whole. But holding her, just enough.
They will not sleep tonight.
Only, in a moment of despair, similar to so many other moments, she will kiss his lips. And he, he will kiss her too. Softly, barely there, for reassurance. He will kiss her lips, and then he will kiss the side of her neck. And then her shoulder, bare and slumped, and she will cling tighter on him because she has to cling somewhere, even just for a little bit. Just for tonight.
Only, in a moment of love, similar to so many other moments, she will bare her lungs in sighs and he will find shelter there, inside her as though to replace the lost warmth, or try to.
Alright, everything will be alright. I love you, everything will be alright.
Just for tonight, just for their lips to whisper each other's names too, the ones they so discreetly cover up in daylight. As though they could ever hide.
They will not sleep.
Not tonight, not for many other nights afterwards.
Instead, he will place one last kiss on her lips, and then rest into the crook of her neck, as she rests into his chest, and the gaping holes by their sides may prevent it from being whole, but for now, it's just enough.
It could never be more than that, anyway.
And if the lullaby he mutters and the soft vibration of his chest makes her eyes droop after a while, she will never admit it. If her lips tremble on his skin moments before her lashes do, to slowly fade his voice in a dreamless sleep, later, he will speak none of it.
Later, they will say they did not sleep that night.
It's love, they won't say. It's just enough.
#they fucked sobbing after the hug anya and joey told me themselves#anyway. they're not enough on their own without their family but they've lost the world apart from each other and they make do#just for one night before they enter chaos again#because they love each other so so so so so much and just enough do you understand do you understand#head in hands help me hELP HELP#the witcher#yennskier#yennefer of vengerberg#jaskier#chrysa writes#fic recs#s3 spoilers#no actual dialogue i had a nice flow with this but if you listen closely you can hear me screaming in the background#(if you saw me deleting this accidentally no u didn't)
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Worlds Apart
Chapter One
Summary: Single mom, Bridget Clark, thought that she was fine by herself. Moving her son to a new town and out of the hustle and bustle of Boston, she thought that life would be quieter and simpler, but a chance encounter with a certain Hollywood actor only a week after their big move had her questioning everything. Bridget was faced with the ultimate decision of head vs heart, but would letting her guard down prove to be worth the risk?
Series Masterlist
-----
February 2016
It all happened so fast.
One minute Bridget Clark was searching through the pile of hard avocados for one that was perfectly ripe and the next she was frantically searching through the aisles of the unfamiliar grocery store for her son.
She fought to keep her breath steady - she’d only looked away for thirty seconds, maybe a minute, he couldn’t have gotten far - but as her feet hit the ground with increasing urgency, she could feel the panic tightening her chest with every empty aisle she passed. By the time she made it to the other end of the store with no sign of her son anywhere, her heart was pounding. She knew he was smart enough not to leave the store without her - at least not by himself and his flair for the dramatics had her doubting that anyone would have been able to take him without him causing a scene - but the store wasn’t particularly big and she was sure she should have seen him if he was still there. In a last ditch attempt to find him, she raced back to where she’d started her search to make sure he hadn’t doubled back, but she prepared herself to start screaming for help if he wasn’t there.
To her overwhelming relief, he was standing beside the avocados with worry all over his face as he held the hand of an almost equally worried looking man.
“Landon!” She called out, getting his attention as she hurried over to him. “Oh my gosh, buddy. You scared me.”
She dropped to her knees without hesitation and pulled him into a hug as desperate apologies fell from his lips. Once she had held him long enough for her brain to feel reassured that he was there and that he was safe, she leaned back and flashed him a stern look.
“You know not to walk away when we’re in a store like this,” she reminded him, hoping she’d managed to muster a firm tone despite the relief still coursing through her. “It’s not safe to wander off by yourself.”
“I know, Mommy,” Landon nodded, a sheepish look on his face. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to get some chocolate.”
“I know and that was going to be our next stop,” Bridget sighed. “Did you find some?”
Landon shook his head as Bridget rose back up to her feet and the stranger waiting patiently beside them finally chimed in.
“I found him wandering around by the cookies,” he explained. “He seemed a little lost so I offered to help him find you.”
She’d almost forgotten that he’d been standing next to them, but as his voice drew her gaze over to him, she was immediately struck by how handsome he was. His face was kind and the smile he was flashing her was very disarming and she could see why Landon had felt comfortable trusting him. There was something familiar about him, but considering they’d only been living in the area for barely a week, Bridget couldn’t figure out why and she matched his smile as she racked her brain to place him.
“Thank you, I really appreciate that. I swear, I only looked away for a minute and then he was just…gone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, disregarding her explanation with a wave of his hand. “I have a niece and two nephews, I know how quick these things can happen.”
“Too quick,” Bridget agreed, exasperatedly running a hand through her hair. “He’s usually pretty good about staying close, but we just moved to town about a week ago so everything around here’s still new and exciting for him, I guess.”
That information intrigued him as his eyebrows raised with curiosity.
“Oh? Where are you guys from?”
“Boston,” she informed him. “Not far away, but it’s nice to be out of the city.”
“Yeah, and this is a great town,” he assured her. “But, welcome! I’m Chris.”
“Thanks, I’m Bridget,” she introduced herself with a warm smile. “And this is Landon.”
Landon offered a shy wave with his hand that wasn’t firmly locked onto the cart beside his mother as if he was determined to prove he wouldn’t be leaving her side again.
“It’s nice to meet you both.”
“You too,” Bridget nodded. “Anyway, I should probably get this guy to the chocolate aisle before he gets antsy again, but thanks again for helping him.”
Once again, the kind stranger - Chris - assured her that no thanks was necessary and took a moment to say goodbye to a bashful Landon before they parted ways.
Thankfully, the rest of their shopping trip was rather uneventful, but it wasn’t until they got home that the realization finally hit Bridget that her son had been saved by Captain America.
-
Two Weeks Later
Bridget had been worried about moving away from Boston.
It was the only place that Landon had ever lived and she worried that the distance it put between him and his father - while certainly not insurmountable - would ruffle feathers, but after having a month to settle in, she was feeling very happy with her decision.
At four and a half, Landon was pretty unaware of the change in scenery, but Bridget could see the benefits already. They had a backyard - something their previous condo and even his dad’s townhouse couldn't offer him- and the streets were quiet and peaceful, their neighbours were friendly and greeted them every time they saw them, and it just felt safer and more free than life in the big city. Of course, there were times when she missed the convenience of city life and the drive to drop Landon off at the daycare he went to three days a week in the city was slightly more of a trek than it used to be, but so far she was feeling confident that the move was going to be worth it.
However, as the cold wind whipped around her at a park in the middle of winter, she was somewhat regretful of her choice to hype up all the potential for outdoor fun they could have in their new town. They’d driven past the playground several times since they’d arrived and every time Landon excitedly asked when they’d be able to go. Considering it was February and barely thirty-five degrees, Bridget had put him off the idea for as long as she could, but when they’d woken up that morning to a bright, sunny day with clear blue skies, it had been his first request. It didn’t matter to him that it was freezing cold and due to snow again any minute, the sun was out and he was ready to explore his new town.
His enthusiasm was hard to ignore and that was how Bridget found herself sitting on the top of a picnic table - bundled up as well as she could possibly be despite the shivers that still ran through her body - as she watched Landon bound around the playground. The sight of the joy on his face eased her suffering slightly as a small group of kids had quickly taken him under their wing. With his daycare being in the city, Bridget was eager for him to make some friends in their new town as well, but she knew that he’d inherited her slight nervousness around new people. He was usually great with adults, but when it came to kids his own age, he was more hesitant and shy about joining in. The kids that he’d buddied up with that day seemed very open and friendly and Bridget was happy to see that they’d barely given him time to be apprehensive before inviting him to play with them - even though she had a feeling that the dog they had with them and were currently chasing around was probably Landon’s biggest motivation for letting his guard down.
A smile slid onto her face as the dog in question jumped up to lick Landon’s cheek and she could hear his wild giggles floating across the field towards her, but the hood of her puffy coat was pulled so tightly around her face that she didn’t even notice the man approaching her until she felt the table creak and heard his voice.
“You look frozen…”
Her current lack of peripheral vision forced her to turn her entire head to see who had joined her on her little perch, but she was happy to see a familiar face when she realized it was the same stranger she’d met at the grocery store a couple of weeks earlier.
“I am frozen,” Bridget admitted. “It was sunny when we got here, but now that dark cloud has rolled in and blocked the warm patch of sun that I was sitting in.”
“Yeah, apparently the forecast has changed now,” Chris informed her. “We’re supposed to get snow tonight.”
“Gross,” Bridget wrinkled her nose. “I’m ready for spring. Landon barely seems to notice the cold, but I’m much more of a warm weather person.”
“I got that impression,” Chris smirked, gesturing to her heavy duty winter gear that she did have to admit was probably more suited to a ski hill than a playground. “But I would have to agree. I think kids just move too fast, they don’t stop long enough to feel the cold.”
“That’s probably true. I can’t feel my toes enough to run around right now, but maybe I’ll test your theory the next time I get dragged out into arctic temperatures.” Her dramatic words and the shiver of dread that ran through her earned a chuckle that had a smile sneaking onto her face, but as she glanced around the fairly empty playground she posed a question. “Are you here with your kids?”
It was odd knowing that she knew more about the relative stranger sitting beside her than he did about her and she felt almost guilty for having the upper hand, but from her brief research after their last encounter, Bridget was fairly certain that he didn’t have any children. However, asking why a single, childless man was hanging around a playground alone seemed like a ruder question.
“Nah, I don’t have any kids of my own,” he answered, confirming her suspicions. “I’m here with my niece and nephews.”
“Oh, right, I remember you mentioning them,” Bridget nodded, thinking back to their conversation at the store. “Do you spend a lot of time with them?”
“As much as I can,” Chris smiled. “I…travel a lot for work, but whenever I’m home I like to hangout with them.”
His hesitation had opened the door - given Bridget an opportunity to explain that she knew who he was and there was no need to beat around the bush - but if he was choosing not to be forthcoming with that information then she was happy to ignore it.
“That’s sweet, I bet they like having you around.”
“I think so, and they’re great kids so it’s nice for me too.” There was a proud edge to his voice, but a sheepish look slid onto his face as he glanced over to where Landon was playing with his new friends. “They’re actually playing with your son right now, the dog’s mine though.”
A wave of realization washed over Bridget as it did make sense considering the only other people crazy enough to be at the park on a day that cold were a couple of older kids playing on the playground.
“Landon loves dogs so I think that was a big draw,” Bridget smiled. “But they seem really nice. Landon sometimes takes a while to come out of his shell, but he warmed up to them really quick. I was worried about him making friends around here so I’m happy to see him joining in.”
“They seem to be getting along great,” Chris agreed. “But, hey, if you wanna give me your number then I can pass it on to my sister for you? They don’t live too far away and I know she’s always setting them up on playdates and looking for more friends too.”
His suggestion briefly caught Bridget off guard as a request for her number was the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth, but as he slipped his phone out of his pocket and opened a new contact - ready for Bridget to share her information - her brain reined in her imagination and she realized that his reasoning was actually really sweet. They were basically strangers and if anything, she owed him a favour for helping Landon the first time they met, yet he’d taken the time to approach her again and was willing to go out on a limb for her in an effort to help her and Landon adjust to their new home. Flashing him a smile, Bridget rattled off her number before voicing her appreciation.
“Thank you for that, but if you do pass it on then please tell her that there’s no pressure. I know how busy life can be with one kid, she might not have time to take in any strays while she’s trying to raise three.”
“I’ll let her know, but Carly likes to keep busy so I’m sure she’ll find the time,” Chris assured her, chuckling at her request. “But anyway, how are you guys settling in? How long have you been here now?”
“About a month,” she informed him. “And we’re settling in very nicely. It took a little time to adjust, but it’s been great to be out of the city.”
“It’s a lot quieter, that’s for sure,” Chris nodded in agreement. “But of all the towns around here, what made you pick this one? If you don’t mind me asking…”
“Work, mostly,” she admitted. “I knew I wanted to raise Landon outside of the city so I applied for jobs in a few different places and out of all the ones that were offered to me, the one here seemed like the best fit.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a librarian.”
“Really?” The surprise was written all over his face. “Aren’t you a little…”
He trailed off as he was clearly trying to find a delicate way to finish his question and Bridget smiled as she took pity on him.
“Ugly?” She supplied. “Ordinary? Frumpy?”
The surprise on his face shifted quickly into shock as he shook his head.
“No, the opposite actually,” he insisted. “I was gonna say young and attractive, but clearly I’ve been going to the wrong places if you’re considered ‘ugly’ in the library world.”
“Oh…” Bridget felt her cheeks heat up at his complimentary words and rushed to explain her unintended self-deprecation. “Most people joke about the whole ‘sexy librarian’ stereotype so I always feel like I don’t represent very well.”
“Well, to be honest, most of the librarians that I’ve met have been pushing retirement so I’d say you’re doing pretty well.”
“Compared to women in their sixties?” Bridget smirked. “I think that was almost a compliment, but I’m not entirely sure.”
“It was meant to be,” he assured her, flashing her a wink that she was embarrassed to admit pulled a giggle from her lips. “That sounds like an interesting job though, how’d you get into it?”
“By being a dork,” Bridget joked. “I really love reading and I spent a lot of time at the library when I was a kid so it’s just always something that I wanted to be a part of.”
The full explanation was more layered. There were reasons she’d spent so much time at the library as a child - reasons why it had been such a meaningful safe haven for her - but that was too much to share in polite conversation with someone she’d just met so she settled for the abridged version and was relieved when Chris accepted her answer with a smile.
“I’d say libraries are definitely underrated,” he mused. “I know I definitely don’t make as much time for reading as I probably should.”
“Most adults don’t,” Bridget nodded. “Myself included, if I’m being honest. I run the children’s section so I’m in charge of all the programs and events for kids which means I have to keep up to date on all the latest kid’s books, but it doesn’t leave a lot of time for books targeted at my own age group. It’s fun though, I think reading is important and it’s nice to help kids see how much fun it can be.”
“It is important,” Chris agreed. “And it’s always rewarding when you can turn something you’re passionate about into your career.”
Bridget nodded again, but hesitated as the truth to his words provided her with the perfect segue. It was another good opportunity to broach the subject of his career and let it slip that she knew who he was and what he did for a living, but just as she opened her mouth to ask him about his own career, Landon’s voice pulled her attention away.
“Mommy! Mommy!” He called as he raced over towards the table they were sitting on. “Look! It’s snowing!”
“Is it?” Bridget had been so wrapped up in her conversation that she hadn’t even noticed, but as she tipped her head back to check, a snowflake landed on her cheek as it seemed like the snow was suddenly coming down quite fast. “Oh, wow, it is! We should probably get going before it starts to stick on the roads.”
That suggestion wiped the smile completely off of Landon’s face as he frantically shook his head.
“No, I don’t wanna go,” he insisted. “I wanna stay and play in the snow with my friends!”
His use of the word ‘friends’ almost tugged on Bridget’s heartstrings enough to convince her to let him stay, but the threat of having to drive home on roads she wasn’t entirely familiar with yet in the middle of a snow storm had her staying firm.
“I know, buddy, but we don’t want to get stuck in the snow,” she sighed. “How about we go home and have some dinner and then maybe there’ll be enough snow by then to play a little before bed.”
Landon paused as he considered her offer, but after a moment of thought he decided that it was enticing enough to agree.
“Okay,” he nodded. “But can I say goodbye?”
“Of course, but be quick, okay?” Bridget watched as Landon hurried back towards the new friends he’d just made before turning back to Chris and explaining, “I hate driving in the snow. I know it seems dramatic, but I’d rather leave now than wait for it to get worse.”
“That’s understandable,” he assured her. “It can get bad really fast sometimes, we’ll probably be leaving soon too.”
“Okay, Mommy!” Landon’s voice drifted across the field as he ran towards their car. “I’m ready!”
“I’ll be right there!” Bridget shouted back as she pushed herself up from the table and hopped off the bench, turning back to flash Chris a smile. “Well, it was nice to see you again!”
“You too,” Chris matched her smile. “Get home safe.”
Bridget returned the sentiment before offering him a somewhat reluctant wave and jogging over to where Landon was waiting on the edge of the parking lot. It was strange, she thought, how disappointed she was to have to part ways with the handsome stranger who she seemed unable to avoid, but she chalked it up to the lack of adult social interaction she’d had since their recent move and pushed the feelings out of her mind.
-
Two More Weeks Later
Bridget was having one of those days.
It started with a series of small annoyances - like realizing they were out of coffee just as she went to make it, burning the toast that Landon wanted to have for breakfast and dropping her phone as she hurried to get him in the car, cracking the screen in the process - but the harder Bridget tried to turn things around, the worse it seemed to get.
And Landon hadn’t made it any easier.
It was hard to tell if his attitude was due to his own bad mood or if he was just feeding off of Bridget’s frustrated energy, but to say he was grumpy would have been an understatement.
He’d spent his entire life going back and forth between his parents’ houses. Despite the slightly larger distance between them since they’d moved out of the city, it was a situation that he was very used to and never questioned. However, he chose that day to decide not to cooperate. He whined the entire drive into Boston - which, of course, had possibly record breaking levels of traffic and took more than twice as long as it should have - and put on quite a performance when Bridget dropped him off. He screamed, he cried, he begged for her not to leave and even though he’d completely calmed down by the time she managed to slip away, the whole process had been emotionally exhausting.
As she headed out of Boston towards the comfort of home, she was desperate to curl up on the couch wrapped up in a blanket with a mug of her favourite tea and spend the rest of the afternoon with one of her favourite books that might help her shake off her bad mood.
However, it seemed the universe wasn’t quite done ruining her day as she was only about ten minutes away from her driveway when smoke started coming out from under the hood of her car. She let out a groan as she pulled over and turned off the engine, but after waiting for at least fifteen minutes and trying it again, she was disappointed to see that the temperature gauge hadn’t dropped down to a reasonable level again as it had the last time. Resigning herself to the fact that she had a bigger problem on her hands than she thought, she reluctantly climbed out of the car to take a look under the hood. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for as cars were absolutely not her forte and as she stared blankly at the complicated engine, the drizzling rain shifting into something that could only be described as torrential had another groan of frustration leaving her lips as tears pricked at her eyes.
She knew she needed to hold it together - just for a little bit longer - because she couldn’t sit in her car on the side of the road all day, but the stress of her horrible morning had her emotions quickly getting on top of her. She wanted to cry and scream like Landon had when she’d tried to leave him at his dad’s, but just as she was debating whether or not to give into that urge, a car pulled over on the other side of the road and a voice that was becoming very familiar called to her through the storm.
“Hey!” Chris shouted, pulling his hood up over his head as he jogged across the road. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Bridget called back, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the heavy rain coming down around them. “My car overheated.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The smoke that was coming out of the engine,” she informed him. “It happened last week too, but it fixed itself when I let it sit for a few minutes. This time the temperature gauge won’t come back down.”
“Oh,” Chris frowned. “I know a little bit about cars, but I think that’s beyond my level of expertise. Have you called a tow truck?”
“Not yet,” she sighed. “I cracked my phone screen pretty badly this morning and the bottom half of it won’t work anymore. Makes it hard to dial.”
“Shit,” Chris flashed her a sympathetic smile. “You’re having a tough day.”
“Tell me about it…”
The words fell from her mouth as a scoff that she wasn’t even sure Chris would hear over the pouring rain as she reflected on how truly awful her day had been, but it seemed like it was about to turn around as Chris came to her rescue again.
“You can use my phone,” he offered. “And you can sit in my car while you wait for the tow truck.”
It was an enticing suggestion and not one that Bridget could really afford to refuse, but she hesitated as it seemed like a lot to ask from someone she barely knew.
“Are you sure? I’m all wet, I don’t wanna ruin your car…”
“I’m wet too,” Chris shrugged. “C’mon, let’s go before it gets worse!”
He turned to head back to his car and Bridget followed even though she wasn’t entirely sure that the rain could get worse. She was soaked through to her skin and she was grateful that Chris turned on his car to run the heating system as she settled into the passenger seat. She waited patiently for him to pull up the number of a local towing company before handing her the phone. They answered quickly, but the news was a bit disappointing as they warned her that the wait was longer than she had hoped it would be. With no other real option, she accepted that timeframe and told them where her car was currently sitting before hanging up and handing the phone back to Chris.
“It’s gonna be a while,” she informed him. “I can just wait in my car, but I appreciate you helping me out again.”
“How long did they say?”
“About an hour…”
“You’ll freeze if you sit in your car in wet clothes for that long with no heat,” Chris shook his head. “I’ll stay with you, I don’t mind.”
His tone was firm and left little room for argument - not that Bridget was particularly eager to fight him on the issue - and a sigh of relief slipped from her lips.
“Thank you,” she smiled before flashing him a sheepish look. “So, did they cast you as Captain America because you’re such a good samaritan or did you pick up the habit from him?”
Considering they were going to be trapped in the car together for an extended period of time, Bridget was eager to get the elephant in the room out in the open, but she questioned her tact slightly as his eyes widened in surprise. However, it didn’t take long for his shock to morph into a smile as a chuckle slipped from his lips.
“Ah, so you do know. I thought maybe you didn’t recognize me.”
“I didn’t realize right away, the beard is a pretty good disguise.”
“It definitely helps,” Chris agreed. “But I blend in more easily than people expect, I don’t get noticed as much as people think.”
“Even around here?”
“Well, I grew up around here so a lot of people know me,” he admitted. “But it’s different. People are pretty respectful and tend to just leave me alone.”
“I guess that’s another perk of life away from the big city,” Bridget mused before biting back a smirk. “And if they see you all the time then it’s probably not very exciting anymore. I mean, this is the third time we’ve met and it already feels less special.”
“Oh, wow,” Chris scoffed out a laugh. “I see how it is…”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Bridget smiled. “Please don’t kick me out of your car and abandon me in the rain.”
“I’ll let it slide this time,” Chris shot her a playful glare. “But it’ll be a long and cold wait if you’re not careful.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
A silence settled between them as Bridget struggled to calm her racing mind after her chaotic day. She’d been feeling almost completely overwhelmed by all the hurdles she’d face that day, but if it was all leading to another chance encounter with the man currently sitting beside her then she was starting to think that maybe some of the struggle was worth it. However unintentional, their regular unexpected meetings had Bridget feeling grateful to have a familiar face in their new town and she was cautiously optimistic that it could turn into some kind of friendship.
“So,” Chris started, breaking Bridget out of her thoughts. “Where’s your son today?”
“Landon? He’s with his dad,” she informed him, but something pushed her to quickly add, “But we’re not together. So we share custody, alternate weeks.”
She wasn’t entirely sure why she felt that was important information for him to have and she worried briefly that she’d overshared until a look that appeared to be intrigue crossed Chris’ face.
“That must be hard to navigate.”
“It’s not too bad most of the time,” Bridget shrugged. “There’s still a lot of love between us so we can usually work together pretty well.”
“Sometimes people just work better as friends,” Chris nodded understandingly. "Not every relationship is meant to be romantic.”
“Especially because he’s gay,” she blurted out. “He was in the closet while we were together - or maybe in denial, I’m not really sure - but when he found out I was pregnant, something changed. I guess he didn’t want to live a lie anymore.”
“Wow…” The shock on Chris’ face was a look she’d seen many times over the years whenever she explained the way her previous relationship had imploded. “That must have been a big surprise, especially with a baby on the way.”
“It was, but I can’t really blame him for his sexuality.”
“No, but I’m guessing it’s pretty rattling to find that out about someone you’re trying to build a life with.”
“Yeah…” Bridget hesitated for a moment unsure how much of the story Chris really wanted to hear, but there was something about the torrential stream of rain washing down the window and blocking out the view of the outside world that made it feel like a safe haven - a good place to share. “And, I mean, I can blame him for spending the last three months of our relationship dating someone else - a man - in an attempt to figure out what he really wanted.”
“Yeah, I’d say you can definitely blame him for that,” Chris scoffed. “It’s one thing to be confused, it’s another to work out that confusion with someone else while you’re still in a relationship.”
“I thought so,” Bridget agreed, flashing him a sad smile. “But they are still together now, so who am I to get in the way of true love?”
“I guess…”
The skepitcal look on his face and the suspicious tone in his voice told Bridget that he wasn’t entirely convinced, but she was grateful that he didn’t push the issue any further. It had hurt and it had been a very emotionally confusing time, but it was in the past and she found it was much easier to focus on Landon and just let everything else go. Whatever happened between them, he was a good dad and so was the man who was now his husband and that was what was most important.
Eager not to let any awkwardness creep in, Bridget was quick to change the subject and break the silence that was settling around them again.
“I try not to dwell on it all too much,” she admitted. “It’s better just to focus on the future like settling in here and making some friends. Which, by the way, I will hopefully be doing soon when I meet your sister.”
“Yeah?” Chris raised a questioning eyebrow as a hopeful smile slid onto his face. “I gave Carly your number, did she reach out?”
“She did,” Bridget nodded. “We’re meeting up sometime next week, I think. We were supposed to last week, but then you dragged her off to L.A. for the Oscars and she was too busy catching up on work when she got home.”
“Dragged? Was that her word?” He chuckled with a playful roll of her eyes. “As if she didn’t beg me to take her.”
“I’m just saying what I was told,” Bridget giggled as she shrugged. “But it’s nice of you to take your siblings to events like that, instead of whatever hot model you’re dating this month.”
She was fishing for information - purely out of curiosity, to get to know the man she seemed unable to avoid and not for any ulterior motives, she told herself - but if Chris knew what she was doing, he took the bait anyway.
“Oh, is that what you think of me? A new girl every month?”
“Well, you’re a pretty okay looking guy,” she teased. “I imagine you have a pretty constant stream of women throwing themselves at you.”
Her assumption pulled a bark of laughter from Chris and the sound had Bridget biting back a grin as it sent a flush of warmth through her body.
“It’s not constant, but I do okay,” he admitted, but while the smirk on his face was cocky, there was a playful element to it that Bridget found reassuring. “There’s no one at the moment though, I’ve been single for a while now.”
“Sometimes it’s good to take some time and just focus on yourself.”
“It is,” Chris agreed, shooting her a sly look that didn’t go unnoticed. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah,” Chris smirked. “Are you focusing on yourself right now?”
“I guess so,” Bridget shrugged. “Even though I’d probably say I’m more focused on Landon considering he takes up most of my time and emotional energy and that doesn’t leave much time to focus on anything romantically.”
She left out the fact that she hadn’t focused on anything romantic since her relationship with Landon’s father had fallen apart. Being completely single for about five years wasn’t really something she was particularly proud of, but Landon had really been her main priority since he came into the world and she was proud of her determination to put him first. It wasn’t until recent months - now that Landon was older and less needing of her undivided attention - that she was starting to realize how much she missed the comfort and excitement of a meaningful adult relationship, but taking the leap after being single for so long was an intimidating step and she was thankful when Chris didn’t press her with any follow up questions.
“That’s understandable,” he nodded. “I know how hard it can be to balance dating with a busy schedule and I’d bet that being a mom doesn’t leave you with a lot of free time.”
“It definitely doesn’t. I mean, I do have a little more time when he’s with his dad, but I usually end up just catching up on work or doing the other five hundred things that I don’t have time to do when he’s with me.” Bridget smiled as he chuckled, but she quickly turned the conversation back onto him. “It must be hard for you too though. Even when you have a bit more free time, your notoriety must make dating a little more complicated than it is for most people.”
“It can,” Chris admitted. “I have to be a little extra cautious, but I think I’m a pretty good judge of character so - as I said - I do okay.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Bridget informed him, fighting to keep a straight face. “I was worried that such a handsome face was being wasted on a life of loneliness.”
“Yeah?” Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her faux concern as she nodded. “Well, you can rest easy, I do just fine.”
“You mentioned that once or twice,” Bridget reminded him. “But, what’s that saying? ‘Thou dost protest too much’? Sounds like that might be you right now…”
“That’s a fair point,” Chris chuckled. “I guess I better keep my mouth shut before I give you the wrong impression.”
“I think so,” Bridget giggled. “That would probably be wise…”
Chris dramatically mimed zipping his lip and throwing away the key, but his promise to stay silent was rather short lived. They spent the next half an hour chatting and joking and by the time the tow truck appeared Bridget was incredibly grateful that he’d chosen to stay and keep her company.
“Thank you for this,” she told him as she opened the door and braced herself to venture out into the pouring rain. “You can just add it to the list of things I owe you for.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Chris assured her. “I’m happy to help.”
“Well, I really appreciate it,” Bridget smiled. “So, thanks again.”
She hopped out of the car and flashed him a little wave before lifting up the hood of her coat and hurrying back across the road. It wasn’t until she’d explained the situation to the driver and he’d almost finished winching her car up onto his truck that she realized Chris had never left and was walking through the rain across the road towards them.
“Everything okay?”
Chris got the question out before Bridget could ask why he was still there, but she nodded her head.
“As okay as it can be for now,” she shrugged. “He’s gonna take it to the repair shop for me, but no one will be there until the morning so there’s not much else that can be done for now.”
“Okay, do you need a ride home?”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Bridget assured him, feeling the guilt of his kindness weighing on her already. “The driver said I can ride with him into town and then I can get a cab home from there.”
“That’s crazy. I’m already right here, I may as well just drive you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Chris. You’ve already done so much for me.”
“It’s really not a problem,” he insisted. “Going all the way into town would be a waste of time.”
Bridget hesitated. She didn’t want to take up anymore of his day, but she had to admit that it would save her a lot of time and considering she didn’t know how much the repairs would cost, she knew it was probably wise to save the money she would have to spend on a cab. So, after a moment of thought, she reluctantly agreed.
“Are you sure?” She asked, giving him one last chance to take back his offer, but she wasn’t at all surprised when he nodded his head. “Okay, then thank you. That would be really helpful.”
They waited until her car was all ready to go and Bridget took the information from the driver that she’d need to follow up with the repair shop in the morning before they headed back to Chris’ car.
The drive back to her house was full of the same easy conversation they’d had while they waited for the tow truck and by the time Bridget was waving to Chris as she walked in her front door, she realized that her earlier bad mood had disappeared. It was refreshing to meet someone new who she seemed to have connected with so effortlessly and since her adult socialization had been limited since leaving Boston it was nice to have conversations that weren’t about Paw Patrol or Hot Wheels cars. There was something about Chris in particular that Bridget found very intriguing and exciting and she felt a flicker of hope that their current trend would continue and they’d run into each other again soon.
#chris evans#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fan fic#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans fic#worlds apart
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Chapter 1: Falling through the stars /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: When the four forces of nature are used at the same time in different places, their power resonates through the universe, connecting all of them together
Word Count: 3,1K
Warnings: Mentions of war, injuries and blood.
Notes: Welcome to the first official chapter of this weird crossover that came up in my mind, obviously this contains spoilers of both acotar and throne of glass, maybe a little crescent city spoilers but who cares? hehheheh
Main Masterlist
Worlds Apart Masterlist
Too much blood, so much that the metallic scent was making Nesta’s head spin. She watched the eerily silent baby in Morrigan’s arms, Rhysand’s pale face as he grasped his mate’s body. The silent plea in those violet eyes for someone to do something, anything to bring them back to him.
All the wasted chances of apologising for years of abandonment, for letting her fourteen year old sister wander scared and alone in those cold woods, for letting her be taken to this world the first time, for allowing her back and for all the resentment Nesta felt towards herself crossed her mind. She never told Feyre how proud she was for everything she had become. A warrior, a High Lady, a mother.
With a last glance towards the nephew she wanted to hold, the one she wanted to tell stories, the one she wanted to see grow and become a great leader just like his parents. The baby who had so much to live for, the baby who just needed a chance of a better life.
It was for them and for them only that Nesta invoked that ancient power, prickling against her fingertips as she held the harp, the other two troves cold against her face and heavy against her head. And it was for them that she used them, no fear consuming her body, just the wish of saving her sister. And with that, Nesta stopped the time.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
The universe felt as that wave of power crashed against the horn, and the other three troves sang in answer to that powerful call. A profane melody resonating throughout the stars, enveloping different worlds with its song. The females didn’t know what they had done, two strangers using the four items in unison, their power echoing, ripping the folds of space and time open.
The gaps started to form, growing in places long forgotten, lands no one has ever heard about, all of them connected by the troves. Alluring and calling like a siren song, the most curious beings crossed it, falling in between the worlds, just small glimpses of the vastitude of the universe they never dared to study about.
And it was through one of these gaps, staining the night sky of the Witch Kingdom in a bright light, that Y/N Blackbeak and Meraxes, her black wyvern fell. The winds roared, like an agonising screech trying to stop her, like they knew something she didn’t. Like they knew she would never return home.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
When she woke up that morning, rubbing her eyes and jumping out of the bed to start her day, she had no idea what was about to happen. After the war and all the centuries of damage in their home, the witches, both Ironteeth and Crochans working together, had a lot to do.
Everyday she would force her body out of the bed, keep going on autopilot ever since everything she loved was ripped away from her. She tried hard to keep going, like Asterin would’ve wanted her to, be there for Manon, like Asterin would. But Asterin wasn’t there anymore, she would never return with that grin of hers, never see the progress they made and the union of her people. Asterin was gone and she was left behind to try to mend her broken heart.
She blinked the tears away, resting her forehead against the cold tiles of her bathroom, the hot water making the skin of her back turn red. The burning sensation grounding her when the memories flooded her mind like a river. The sadness in her heart was an unwanted guest.
Asterin flew by her, a smirk on her face as her yellow eyes landed on her younger sister, Y/N atop Meraxes felt, deep within the heart that she didn’t even know she had. She looked in horror as the Thirteen aimed for the witch tower, their wyverns clearing the way for Asterin, she jumped from Narene, landing in the middle of the tower.
Y/N couldn’t see, but she tried to reach for her sister, reach for the only person that ever loved her, reach for that sisterly bond that lied within her soul ever since Asterin chose to keep Y/N under her wing, to train her and teach her what her duty was. Asterin, who despite everything they have been taught, chose to love Y/N like she was family.
Meraxes was tired, tired of fighting and flying, but she forced him to go to the Tower, to save Asterin. But she was too slow and too late, the light coming from the tower wasn’t dark, it was the purest shade of white, so bright that her vision got blurry, the impact sending her and the wyvern flying backwards, with such force that they hit the ground with a loud thud. Where the tower and the Thirteen once were, nothing stood.
Y/N wiped the blue blood that streamed above her eyes, a loud roar forming in the back of her throat, rumbling through her bones, she threw her head up, her lips parting as she roared to the skies, Meraxes roaring with her. Crying it was a weakness, witches didn’t cry, but Y/N braced herself, ignoring her arm bending in a wrong angle, the pain in her sliced face, thanks to a Yellowlegs that jumped on her and tried to slash her face open.
And she cried, cried and cried on that battlefield, cried as she got back on her feet, cried as she ripped a part of her riding leathers, wrapping her broken arm tightly against her body, branding her sword and marching towards the battle again. She would be strong, Asterin wouldn’t want her to give up. She would fight to protect what Asterin believed. She would fight for a better world, and die for it if she had to.
She fought until exhaustion, her body collapsing on the dirty ground. Claws caged her, lifting her from the ground, she gritted her teeth as pure agony flashed from her arm, her face was completely numb at this point and she fought to keep her eyes open. She blacked out when Meraxes reached the walls that kept Orynth intact, his claws letting her go, her body hitting the floor and rolling to the side.
Hafiza found her, ordering that other healers carry her bruised body inside. But her wounds were deeper than the ones marking her skin.
She allowed her tears to fall, mixing with the water, where no one could see her. An hour later she was wearing her riding gear, the red cloak hanging from her neck, part of the official uniform they had to use, to symbolise the union.
The witches watched her as she walked towards the Queen’s council room, as her wingleader and responsible for the remaining wyverns, she was always present in the morning meetings. As everything the Valg made was destroyed after Erawan died, they wondered how the wyverns belonging to the witches that decided to fight for Aelin Galathynius still remained, concluding that they were tied to this land by the bonds shared between them and their riders, not by the Valgs anymore.
“Good Morning.” Manon Blackbeak greeted, her commanders just nodded their heads in greetens to their queen. “How are the wyverns in the Ferian Gap?” The heads of the witches present turned to her, she held her head high at the sight of the eyes lingering in her scar.
“They’re being trained, I shall fly there today to see their progress, but I'm sure that soon they will be big enough to bond witches.” The queen nodded, her red lips smiling warmly at her, Manon was trying hard to be the best version of herself, the one her Thirteen believed she was before they sacrificed themselves for her.
“I’ll go with you. I want to see them too.” And Y/N wondered if that sudden interest of going too wasn’t because it was weeks since she saw a certain handsome King in Adarlan.
“Yes, my queen.” She dipped her chin in a silent bow of her head. Turning her mind off as the meeting kept going. Playing with her claws, scraping slowly the surface of the table, watching as faint lines marked into the wood. The morning meetings were boring as fuck.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
“Good boy.” She scratched the wyvern’s chin, the animal shaking its tail like he was just a very big dog. No wonder Meraxes and Abraxos were really good friends, they were two gigantic puppies, with mortal claws and teeth, just like her.
“You want to place a bet that these two will wait for us in a flower field?” Manon asked, the two females walked towards the entry of Ferian a few hours later. Y/N laughed, the skin of her scar pulling a bit as she did so.
“It’s not even something debatable anymore, those flowers sniffling addicts.” Manon smiled.
“You remind me of her.” The white haired witch blurted and Y/N came to a stop.
“We do not even look alike.” She tried to joke, with shoulder length light brown hair, dark blue eyes and the slightly more tanned skin, she couldn’t be any more different from Asterin, but she knew what Manon meant and she didn’t wanted to think about it, even if the witch just felt the need to speak it outloud.
“You could be twins.” She joked, but her expression turned to a serious one very quickly. “You have the heart just as good as hers was, and that’s where you two are equals to me.” She didn’t answer, the tears too heavy to carry. Manon didn’t demand a response when Y/N stopped, leaving the younger witch alone for a bit.
The Ferian Gap was as it usually was, damp and smelling like wyvern shit. The animals roared and flew around in the pit. Witches trained them and fed them. Not a single one chained, all of them free to go but they chose to stay. The younglings were still learning how to fly while the elders tried to teach them how, it was honestly really cute. She was leaning against a wall, Manon’s words still replaying themselves in her head, when a different scent filled her nostrils.
“Aelin’s delivery boy, what a pleasure to see you again.” She spoke, not even turning back to know that Fenrys Moonbeam was walking behind her, he let out a low chuckle.
“And here I was thinking I was an ambassador.” He stopped by her side. Eying the witch up and down, recognizing the grief lacing her features.
“Just a fancy name, I like to call it what it really is, delivery boy.” She snickered and Fenrys rolled his eyes.
“I hate you.” He nudged her with his elbow, his braid moving behind his back as he did it.
“Yeah yeah, mean witch and shit, I know that.” The male chuckled and she turned face to face with him. “What do you need?” After the war, she and Fenrys had grown really close, working together as Ambassadors for both of their queens. Wingleader her ass, Manon used her to gather resources and talk to important people.
“Actually, Aelin sent me here cuz she apparently has a very important meeting with the ladies of her court.” She knew what this meant, it was Aelin’s way to gather her friends and make sure they were alive.
“Am I invited this time?” She joked.
“Unfortunately no, but can I invite you for some beers?” He was the closest friend she had now.
“I would love to. Are you free to have one in the Witch Kingdom?” The male nodded.
“Just need to do my job real quick.”
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Fenrys held her waist, she could feel his shaking body against her back, caging her between him and the saddle. She smirked as she turned slightly to him.
“Can’t I go by foot?” He asked and she giggled.
“Too far away. You’re stuck with us, Meraxes will behave.” She promised and Fenrys nodded. She could feel his tense body during the three hour flight, the male squeezed his eyes shut, if that’s what Rowan had to deal with in his animal form, he was glad to be stuck as a wolf. Being that far away from the ground was a big no for him.
The wyvern landed, and Fenrys more than happily slid down his leg, grounding himself and thanking the Gods he was still alive.
“Are you alright?” She sounded genuinely concerned, but when he turned to her, he saw that smirk. “A certain Lord of Perranth would love to know about this.” Fenrys pretended to be hurt.
“You wouldn’t dare.” He started to follow her towards the tavern.
“Someone has to help that poor dude, with you and your queen constantly mocking him.” Fenrys held the door open for her, following her to a more secluded table.
“He deserves it.” He defended himself. “The usual?” The witch nodded, and he went to the counter ordering their drinks.
“How are you?” She asked, and Fenrys watched as a trickle of blood ran down her chin.
“I’m better, really.” He sighed. “How are you?”
“I’ve seen better days.” She joked, downing the goblet of blood in one go. “But I will be fine.” And for her sake, Fenrys hoped that she was right.
“I don’t know how you do that.” He changed the subject and the witch raised an eyebrow, the scar going up too with the move. “The blood, I mean.” He scrunched his nose.
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” She raised the goblet in his direction but he knew she was asking for another round.
The two sat there, for hours, talking. The sky was pitch black and the stars shone bright in the sky. He was telling a story about some drunk fae wanting to pet him when a witch burst through the door. Her cheeks were red and her cloak followed her like a river of blood.
“Bronwen needs you and your alliance to check something up, it’s important.” She stated, when Manon was away, it was her cousin that took care of things for her alongside Petrah Blueblood. Y/N turned to Fenrys, opening her mouth to apologise.
“Go do your duty, delivery girl.” He joked and she flipped him off, following the witch outside and whistling loudly to call Meraxes.
She was in the air before the witch had the chance to get on top of her broom. Flying towards the castle, where her alliance waited for her. She slid down, her feet hitting the ground with a loud thud. She glanced at Shearah, her second in command.
“What’s wrong?” She demanded, the witch locked eyes with her.
“The witches saw a gap to the west, they don’t know what it is, but we can hear its call.” Y/N focused her hearing, like a faint whisper being carried by the wind, she could hear, calling, lulling, inviting them to see what was waiting for them on the other side.
“Let’s go.” She adjusted her sword behind her back, hidden by the cloak, and the dagger resting against her thigh. Mounting Meraxes again, she was running towards the gap, following the melody.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
The gap wasn’t that big, just a few inches, a slit like a snake eye looking at her, daylight peeked through it, interrupting the darkness in the sky. She had never seen something like this before. A chill ran down her spine.
“Stay behind!” She warned, the alliance forming a wall behind her.
She got closer, the thing looked like it was getting smaller by the second, she clicked her jaw, iron teeth covering her real ones, and her claws emerged from the tips of her fingers. Ready to attack in case something dared to cross. Just a closer look
The wind stopped its song, she couldn’t hear it anymore. The terrified faces of her alliance were the last thing she saw before she was sucked into the gap, watching with horror the night sky fading as it closed. She felt like she was falling, clutching the reins in the saddle with an iron grip. Her voice lost in the folds of space as she screamed. Falling, falling and falling.
Until everything stopped, and she was dangling upside down, the parts of the saddle that held her in place caging her in, forcing against her skin, bruising the flash. Meraxes had fallen to the side, and she groaned as her head started to pound. She was struggling to get out of the saddle, but as she did, her body hit the floor. Pain started to appear from the point she had fallen on top of a rock and she huffed in annoyance.
She circled Meraxes, slapping its leathery nose, the wyvern was still breathing and she released the air she was holding, he opened its eyes, golden eyes meeting hers and she was never more thankful to see those big eyes curiously scanning her.
The wyvern slowly got up, pulling her closer with a wing. She looked around, removing the pellicule that covered her eyes as she flew, a city was standing nearby, mountains surrounding it, the sight was quite beautiful but all she could wonder was. Where the FUCK she was?
Things got even more confused when she heard the sound of steps against the fluff grass. Meraxes growled at the strangers approaching her. Stones shone in the two of them, one red and one blue.
“What the fuck?” The male with the red stones yelled, his sword looking like a foolish attempt to protect himself from the really long teeth and sharp claws of the beast in front of him. She reached for her sword, armed and ready to attack. She was about to jump on them when they got closer and she could see their faces now.
The air was knocked out of her lungs and she wondered if she had gone insane, the achingly familiar face looked at her, the male was tall, beautiful big wings spread across his back, his hazel eyes studied her, trying to distinguish where to attack the threat. She felt like she knew him, her heart exclaiming that yes, she did know him, but her brain didn’t remember him, it wasn’t ready to remember him just yet. She shook her head and fixed her instance, the two stopped at the sight of her teeth glowing in the sun, ready to rip their skin apart.
“Where am I?” The female snarled and the beast behind her furiously stared at them, ready to rip them to shreds.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
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Worlds Apart {Neteyam Sully}
Prologue
neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x human/avatar reader
words: 3.5k
a/n: welcome to the start of a new series! as stated in the masterlist, this series is going to be canon divergent, starting with the fact that everyone (bar Tuk) will be aged up 2-3 years in the main series. this is because that's how old i thought they were and so that's how old i'm writing them to be.
(for once, i have proofread a fic! i had to retype this... entire chapter because of a single, tiny change i made. but hundreds of words had to be changed so i retyped the whole thing)
important: while i couldn't find a canon answer, for the sake of this fic, Pandoran years are approx. 1.2 Earth years, so when I mention the ages of the reader and other characters, I'm referring to them in Pandoran years. (i.e. when i mention the reader's first birthday, technically she is 14 Earth months, and when Tuk is born, she is 13 Pandoran years, which is about 15 Earth years.) After this chapter, specific ages won't be mentioned, though chapter 1 will open with the year the series is set in!
warnings: side-character deaths
pronouns: she/her
series masterlist // taglist form
Never before had someone been placed in cryogenic hibernation while heavily pregnant. It was considered dangerous, highly risky for both the parent and the child. But billions of dollars had been invested into your mother’s avatar, and she was considered one of the best biochemists on Earth. So, after many months of warnings, she was placed in cryo whole her avatar was set to grow in the final of the six year flight to Pandora.
Only four months away from landing on Pandora, alarms blared on her cryo pod, and the few medics who remained awake for the duration of the trip were quick to pull her out. You were by no means the first child born in space, but you were the first born so far from Earth. And though they were highly trained, there was nothing the medical crew could do to save your mother. The combination of giving birth in space, being pulled so abruptly from cryo hibernation, and whatever had caused the alarms to sound in the first place was all to much for her body. Her last word was your name, barely whispered into the air. Your mother never made it to Pandora.
Cryo was not designed for infants, especially not newborns, so the first few months of your life was spent in space. The medics and awake crew did their best to work with what they had, teaching you babbled speech with medical and ship information. You were wide-eyed and happy, not knowing the life you were missing.
After landing on Pandora, the first person woken was Noah. A military man who had met your mother while training for the long-haul hibernation to, and eventual life on Pandora. He had known, of course, that she was pregnant, but nothing could prepare him for learning that she had died only months prior, and you – who was nothing more than a shape on a sonogram last he saw you – were chewing on your fingers and babbling replies as those who had raised you those long months had conversations you couldn’t understand.
Though he was ill-prepared, Noah still held you carefully in his arms as he adjusted the much-too-big oxygen mask onto your face, and held you close to his hip as he carried you off the ship and into the military base.
For a baby who had only ever seen greys and whites, only broken up by the blue of the avatar grow tanks, the bright and colourful world of Pandora had your tiny head looking around, eyes wide and mouth open as your mind raced to take all the new sensory information in. Your small hands drummed on your father’s shoulders, the only way for your excitement to manifest. And all too quickly, you were returned to the familiar monotone of the inside of a military base.
While Noah was working through orientation, you were held by a scientist as he moved around the lab and your eyes found the window into the forest at every opportunity. When he came to you that evening, Noah pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before easily taking you from the scientist who was looking after you. As he walked out of the lab and away from the window, you stared up at him with pleading, tear-filled eyes and in that moment, as you began to bubble with sadness, your dad realised that he completely and truly loved you, ad would do anything on this planet or the next to keep you, his tiny baby girl, safe.
---
When Jake arrived on Pandora, he was surprised to find a baby in the science lab. Even more so when you crawled as quickly as you could toward him once you saw he had wheeling in, followed closely by Max who bent down to scoop you up off the floor. You giggled as he rested you on his hip with a swing, then you turned to wave at Jake with chubby fingers.
He watched you as Max spoke, fighting the soft smile as you tilted your head and nodded along as if you understood what he said.
`“And this little one,” Max bounced you on his hip, causing more giggles to bubble out of you, “is out lab assistant.”
Although the title was entire a joke, you were still there watching (‘supervising’, as your dad would say) as Jake and Norm entered their link pods for the first time the following day, stood beside Jake’s pod with one hand on the edge of the pod to help you stand, and the other wrapped around his finger, giving it a squeeze with a smile as the metal cage was lowered over him. Jake wasn’t sure if you knew the action was usually used to comfort someone, but he accepted the reassurance. The confident smile from a wide-eyed toddler somehow working to settle his nervous heart.
The avatar program was something that you held an obvious fascination for, always watching whenever Jake or others went into their link pod, running your hands along the glass tunes that both currently and formerly grew the giant blue na’vi.
You always took longer on your mother’s one. Death hadn’t been explained to you, all you knew was that your mother was gone and that the avatar was going to be hers. And now that she was gone, the avatar was left to grow in the pod in hopes of finding a solution that would mean the four billion dollars put into it wouldn’t be wasted.
After the death of your mother, her avatar was all but ignored past wondering what to do with it now that its host was gone, because all focus was on you. But once you had been reunited with your father, the team could move their attention away from you, and return it to the avatar problem. Somewhere in the seven Earth months since your birth, the genetic code of it had collapsed, no longer growing and still stuck looking like a young toddler.
There was little that could be done with it, until one day Noah mentioned off-handedly to one of the scientists who had claimed the role of uncle – he was the one who took the most care of you when your father wasn’t around, the one who carried you while he was at orientation, and he worked closely with your mother back on Earth – that it was a shame you couldn’t use it when you got older, already so fascinated with the planet he could only imagine what would happen as you grew. This sparked the idea within your uncle.
With half of your genetics matching your mother, he used your DNA to complete the broken strands within the avatar. And to ensure it would grow properly, the markers that accelerated the ageing process was removed.
It was noted within the report file that since combining your DNA with the existing genetics of the young avatar, the face shape had changed. Though clearly older, the new face – especially compared with the old – was unmistakably becoming more you.
---
As war between the humans and the Na’vi quickly arose, you were often kept in a room adjacent to the lab so you could be cared for if adults were required, but you would never have to bear witness to any of the symptoms of war. You were confused the day you watched as Grace and Norm packed up their link pods and left, chewing on your lunch as they took the equipment. But you were assured by your dad that you would see them again.
“They’ll be okay, pumpkin,” he reassured as your eyes began to well, “they just have to move to somewhere quieter for now.”
He hoped that one day he would be able to return home to Earth and that you would be able to go with him, live a life that wasn’t filled with medical beeping and soldiers as playmates. But should that never happen, should you never be able to go to Earth or never want to leave, he would stay with you. This planet was your home, and his home was now with you, his happy, curious daughter.
With war plans picking up, your father was away more often, sometimes gone overnight, leaving you to be cared for by Paz. She was a soldier, like most people in the military base, but she had more free time than others. Though stubborn and wanting to continue with training and missions, her heavily pregnant body wouldn’t allow it. So reluctantly, she stepped down from active duty. Paz was happy to care for you, holding your hand when you demanded, making sure that you ate and were safe. She also adored the way you would look up at her with pleading eyes to rest your hands on her stomach, wanting to feel for the kicks of the growing baby.
You had never seen another child in person, didn’t quite understand what was going on, but what you did know was that you were already fascinated by and adored the baby. So when Paz went into labour, you excitedly waited on a bench outside the medbay under careful supervision of other staff. All you were told by Paz as she was escorted in, arm cradling under her stomach with a wince, was that she was going to be okay and you’d be able to meet the baby properly soon. That was enough for you to act as almost security on the door, tiny arms clumsily folded to mimic something you had seen from your father many times. You were worried, of course, as you heard the sounds of Paz in pain. But she had assured you that everything was okay, and you trusted her.
Your dad returned to base from a field mission to see you curled up on the bench, fighting with your heavy eyes. He sat down beside you and pulled you into his lap, and you easily curled up against his chest.
“Baby soon.” You mumbled to him.
“Oh yeah, is Aunty Paz having her baby?” He hadn’t known that Paz had gone into labour, though he knew her due date was getting close. Paz wasn’t your biological aunt, of course, but she didn’t want to take the place of your mother, so she took on the title of aunt. You nodded with a tired smile. With your father rubbing slow circles on your back, you fell asleep.
You woke to the sound of your father’s voice saying your name and the feeling of his hand giving you a gentle shake. You hummed, rubbing your eyes.
“You wanna meet the baby?” All sleep was shaken from your little body as you wriggled to get off of his lap, almost falling in the process. He caught you, standing to scoop you onto his hip. Carried into the room by your dad, you saw Paz and in her arms, wrapped in a hospital-white blanket, the new baby.
You were placed on the side of the hospital cot, carefully shifting forward as to not hurt Paz, but to see the baby - the first baby you had ever seen.
Paz held out her hand and you placed one of your own in it, allowing her to guide it to rest on the baby.
“His name is Miles.” Your eyes flicked up to hers for a moment, before quickly returning them to Miles. You watched in fascination as his tiny nose scrunched as he took in a breath, making tiny humming noises. “Are you going to help me take care of him?” You sucked in an excited breath, eyes lighting up as you nodded.
Days later, soldiers were rushing around and you were back in the room by the lab, this time with the newborn baby. Paz was dragged back into the war - though she did demand being allowed to pilot again immediately after being medically cleared to walk - and returned to the cockpit of her gunship.
Her body was never recovered, like many others who attacked the Tree of Souls. She was buried by Eywa where she landed.
A lot of things changed after that day. Jake, who you used to see in the avatar lab nearly every day, was gone. Most of the soldiers and scientists who had been living at Hell’s Gate left, leaving only a handful of people behind. And suddenly the bustling military base that you called home fell far quieter.
While both you and Miles were initially given birthdays using Earth dates, it quickly became clear to the adults around you that neither of you would return to Earth so they shifted, referring to your ages in Pandoran years.
Though both you and Miles were far too young to attend Neteyam’s naming, and his and Kiri’s joint first communion with Eywa, Jake and Neytiri brought the babes to Hell’s Gate for you to meet them. Although you had seen Miles grow from being a newborn, you were still fascinated by the tiny, blue forms. You were used to the na’vi, their looming heights and builds nothing new. But seeing two so small and helpless had your eyes alight with curiosity.
Because of the sudden lack of personnel, your father didn’t get to celebrate your first birthday as he wanted to, guiltily too busy with the few-month-old, now orphaned baby Miles. So, while your second birthday was nothing special it was something Noah would say was decidedly better. It was small, still nothing close to what he wanted to do for you. But he was limited by what he had access to. So instead of a cake, Neytiri brought a fruit - soft and safe for human consumption - that was traditional to give to na’vi children on their first birthday.
She still saw you as an alien and not one of the people, but she knew of Jake’s softness for you and would not deny him seeing the human celebration of your second year. You could not blow out a candle, the fire both a danger to the base and something that would use some of the precious oxygen. So Noah had you sat on one of the tables in the canteen, the large fruit on a plate in front of you. You were surrounded by those who helped raise you, scientists and soldiers alike, with Miles sat on Max’s hip and Neytiri and Jake carefully cradling the babies close.
You learned to run alongside the Sully children, clumsily tripping over branches that they, though a year younger, seemed to easily avoid. You chased them, laughing as you played, closely followed by the tiny but ever-determined Miles.
When Lo’ak was born only a year later, you already spoke in a mix of Na’vi and English. Jake laughed with Noah as your father commented on how you were already better at the Na’vi language than he was, despite Jake being one of the People. Jake ruffled his hair, a motion he mimicked a lot when they were new in the marines together. But now Noah’s hair had grown longer and curls fell into his eyes as he batted Jake away.
---
As you continued to grow, Miles always close behind you as you played with the Sully children, your father tried his best to give you a normal childhood, all things considered. He watched you explore the forest near the base, supervising as you climbed around the roots of the large trees, teaching you to paddle and eventually swim around in the small lake Jake had shown him. But it became clear very quickly, that while Miles was able to run further and for longer, you were plagued with gasping breaths that had you clutching your chest trying to breathe.
Asthma. It was hard enough for you as you played with your friends that you were stuck wearing an oxygen mask. But the addition of asthma left you sitting on the sidelines and watching often.
The medical facilities at Hell’s Gate had inhalers, as well as attachments for your exopack to fill your lungs with ventolin when you needed it. But the access to the medication didn’t stop the knowledge that you would never be able to play with your friends like Miles - or Spider, as he was being called more often than he was Miles - from making you feel even more like an outsider.
By the time you were 10, your asthma had eased, but you still couldn’t run and climb with your friends like Spider could. You visited the village occasionally, but didn’t want to risk being stuck so far from the base should your lungs decide to protest against you, so when you spent time with the Sully children, it was around Hell’s Gate or in the lab.
You leaned against a tree, struggling to catch your breath after running away from Spider who was determined to drop an overripe fruit onto your head. You watched enviously as he changed his target to Lo’ak, who shoved Kiri in front of him as a shield. The laugh you let out as purple splashed across her chest and she yelled at Lo’ak was wheezed and you were worried that you would have to use some of your ventolin.
Neteyam looked over at you, even smaller than usual as you curled in on yourself. His long legs quickly carried him over to you, and Neteyam rested a three-fingered hand on your back.
“Breathing?” Jake had tried his best to explain asthma to his kids, but gave up after receiving many blank stares. Instead he elected to say that sometimes you couldn’t breathe very well.
You could only nod, relaxing a little as you realised that if an asthma attack were to occur, you wouldn’t be alone in the Pandoran brush. Neteyam’s eyebrows pinch in concern as he tilts his head, feeling bad that there was nothing he could do to help. All he could do was stay with you, sat beside you and keeping you company as your breath gradually lost its wheeze.
---
As the years passed, Neteyam gradually spent less and less time with his siblings and with you. In the traditions of the clan, he was being introduced to the responsibilities of being next in line to be olo’eyktan. Though not quite old enough to be taken out on hunts, his training became more frequent, to the point where he wasn’t only being called away by Jake in the middle of a game, but simply wouldn’t appear for days.
“Am I too harsh on him?” Jake asked, turning his attention away from the preteens playing in a pond by Hell’s Gate to Noah. Spider was chasing after Lo’ak and Kiri, trying to splash them with water, while you and Neteyam were sat side-by-side on a rock, feet in the water. You nudged him with your shoulder as he kicked water at you with a laugh and Jake sighed.
“I won’t pretend to understand the pressure you both have on you,” Noah said with a sigh, “because this isn’t Earth and he is being raised to be the warrior leader of the clan. And you don’t always have a choice because of the clan traditions.” You let out a shriek and Noah quickly turned his head to you, only to see that Neteyam had picked you up to drop you into the water.
“I know it’s just-” Jake cut himself off with a sigh as Neteyam laughed with you. “I feel like I’m not letting him be a kid for as long as he deserves.” Noah gave him a pat on the arm, reassuring.
---
When Tuktiry was born, you hadn’t seen Neteyam in weeks. Lo’ak had complained that he was training to be the golden child, but Kiri quickly nudged him when she saw the sadness in your eyes. While Spider had connected himself at the hip to Kiri and Lo’ak, you ended up closer to Neteyam. So when he had up and vanished from your daily life, you felt something missing.
“Neteyam!” You called out once you saw him. You and Spider, along with your father and a select few other humans, were invited to Tuk’s naming. Spider had insisted on dragging you to the village early, and with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, you joined him.
“Y/N? Hi!” He jogged over to you, crouching down a little to pull you into a hug. “You’re early.” Neteyam let you go and stood back to his full height.
“Spider.” You pointed over your shoulder toward your cousin who was already tugging at Lo’ak’s tail, the only explanation needed. Neteyam nodded with a laugh.
“I am glad you’re here.” His voice was soft as his head tilted.
For the rest of the day leading up to Tuktiry’s naming, you and Neteyam spent time together and with his siblings, everything easy as if Neteyam had never been dragged away from spending time with you.
But just as quickly as things seemed to return to normal, Neteyam was gone again. After Tuktiry’s naming and first Eywa communion, his training seemed to double, and while Spider could see him in the village, you remained stuck close to Hell’s Gate.
end notes: did i give the reader asthma because i grew up with asthma? am i planning on giving the reader migraines because i now suffer with migraines? noooooo /s (listen it's my fic and i can be as self indulgent as i want)
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#char writes#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x avatar!reader#neteyam imagine#neteyam fic#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam sully x you#neteyam sully x y/n#neteyam sully imagine#neteyam sully fic#reader insert#˚:✧｡• worlds apart
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It’s a strange feeling, being red again.
Strange, Ren thinks, for a lot of reasons. It’s not as though he hasn’t been red before; he’s practically bathed in it. It felt different the last time, though. Felt stickier, bloodier. Felt louder. Felt like something was roaring in his chest, last time; felt the closest to wolf he thinks he really gets, except not in the way that a tranformation actually feels, but in the way that stories always talked about werewolves, like creatures on the edge of being something otherworldly entirely.
That, Ren thinks, is how being red is meant to feel.
He lies against the bed, the shouts of the warden and creeper gunpowder still prickling across his skin. Next to him, lying there but not touching him, is BigB. He stares at the ceiling. He’s red now. It’s strange.
They’re both quiet for a while.
“Heck,” BigB says.
“No one else’s here, dude. You can say something a little stronger,” Ren says.
“Yeah?” BigB says.
“Yeah. Like gosh-darn or something.”
BigB giggles. It’s almost nervous. They’re still lying there, looking at the ceiling. Ren thinks his teeth don’t even feel particularly sharp. They just feel like teeth. His fingers don’t feel particularly claw-like. They just feel like fingers. His blood doesn’t feel particularly red and boiling. It just feels like blood.
It just feels like nothing.
He can taste gunpowder in his throat now, he supposes. There’s that.
“What now?” BigB asks.
“We fight, I guess,” Ren says. “We have each other.”
It echoes in the room. It’s loud. It reminds Ren of falling rocks.
“Sure,” says BigB. “Okay. We have each other.”
“Haaah,” Ren says.
“Yeah,” BigB says.
They both lie there quietly for a while longer. By now, Ren thinks, he’s supposed to feel like getting up and killing things. He doesn’t. He feels sore, and he feels empty, and he can’t bring himself to reach his arm across the bed to grab BigB’s hand like he would have a few nights ago. He wonders how Martyn is doing. He wonders if he’s still obligated to side with Pearl, given that, by rule, he’s obligated to side with neither. He wonders why he doesn’t feel any particular burning hate for them. Even in his Red King days, there had been a little part of him that had wanted to tear Martyn apart, and he’d hated himself for every fantasy-nightmare-vision-thought of his throat in shreds in his claws. Now, though, he doesn’t have that. He doesn’t even kind of have that.
It’s strange. It feels strange. He feels tired. He feels empty.
Maybe something’s broken, with being red. Maybe he should take it as a mercy. Maybe that’s what this is.
He feels lonely.
“This sucks,” he says.
“Yeah?” BigB says.
“Yeah,” Ren says.
“...you aren’t wrong,” BigB says, and neither of them move, and neither of them grab each other’s hands, and they stare at the ceiling as their communicators buzz with messages from the people Ren can only suppose they’re meant to be the enemies of now.
#double life smp#a bee fic#rendog#bigbst4tz2#so like. imagine going red and having your only partner in the world be your soulmate who you used to have a perfect relationship with#but you just spent this whole last episode with both of you falling apart at the seams#both of you betraying each other#and you're just lying there now. red names. each other's only allies. it's supposed to be heady or at least a bit scary#but i think it would just feel... sad. i think you'd just be sad#anyway so ren and bigb huh
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life is cruel.
it's tragic, horrific, and unfair. it gives us the worst of things, causes us to feel and experience things that are so unspeakably painful that sometimes I can't even. I can't even.
and it seems even more cruel in those moments of pain and grief and loss when you see something beautiful, like fall colors, or the color of the sky at sunset, or how the holidays typically are meant to bring joy to people but all you can think about now is that every year when this time of year comes, you'll just think about how tragic it is.
and cruel.
and horrific.
and unfair.
and beautiful.
#grief#grief tw#so i'm dealing with grief intimately for the first time like. ever. and i'm having a lot of emotions#and i can't help but observe that the way i write it in fic feels. kinda like how i feel right now? in some ways?#but also like. everyone goes through it differently and there's no like correct way to process#for me i'm. okay most of the time when i have a lot of stuff to do#which is like 90% of the time#but i'm also just feeling a lot of things and trying to figure out how to move forward#especially with the knowledge that life is short and cruel and you just never know what might happen#and i can't just not do the things i truly want to do with my life because i'm SCARED#because. you never know what might happen#you never know when the end is gonna come#anyways i drove back to my apartment today and i saw beautiful fall colors on the way#and all i can think is ''how can the world be so beautiful and so horrible at the same time''#''so beautiful and so fucking CRUEL at the same time''#''and to the people who least deserve its cruelty''#anyways that's where i'm at ig#still got two classes moving and a full time job to do while all of this is happening 🙃#all things considered. i'm okay. not great but i'm doing my best#really in my post tpm obi-wan era except to a lesser degree#but i certainly have a LOT of responsibilities to deal with along with my grief so. yeah.
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reading the comics of a character after coming from fanon really does showcase how fandom so often does not use a character to its fullest potential, often defaulting to simpler, blander mischaracterisations/archetypes. more utilising the idea of a character concept than an actual character. not to be bitter, fanon can be a fun starting point to a character you don't know, but why not start to engage with the actual character after? it's so much fun?
#take my hand. i can show you a whole new world...#anyways in completely unrelated news ive been reading superboy94 power of shazam95 & batgirl2000#fanon billy batson fans pls read power of shazam its so fun. the first issue billy yells at the wizard for his double standards#a look at the character after 5 years of heroing and its really cool seeing a more experienced captain marvel#he does odd jobs as cap to get money he has his own apartment there's family drama he fools some villains#what's not to love#also we need more comics-accurate cass fics im dying out here. kon as well
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Do you have any j/p fic recs??? I’ve read all your AMAZING stuff and I’m now obsessed.
Ahhh that's so kind of you, thank you!! & I'm so happy you've found J/P! Welcome to the fambam.
Starting with the dawn of time: you could wayback machine Jupiter Station to see where it all began.
I rec'd this a little bit ago but I'll do it again here: Absumption by drsquidlove
Then you can start with @missparker's The Long Away Mission, and then all the rest of her J/P fic (like take it easy baby, make it last all night !)
and @curator-on-ao3's Fly Me to the Moon, and then all the rest of her J/P fic (like this one she wrote for meee)
and @mia-cooper's Kinetic Friction, though incomplete, deserves a mention (I've read it twice through)
and Sleepover by Syrena_of_the_lake
and a fantastic newcomer, there is water (at the bottom of the ocean) by @cicaklah
Oh, and a couple of posts you can't find on AO3: a prompt from missparker; and a prompt from @curator-on-ao3 for me which she basically wrote and then I was like, yep, cosigned.
There are so many other amazing fics that I'm leaving out, so I hope others will chime in with their faves. ♡
#ps - my Cohen fic is j/p#so that's coming in May#and I have two prompts in my inbox from December that I haven't gotten to because I suck and the world fell apart#but anyway - more! soon!#janeway x paris#fic rec#asks
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