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zepskies · 11 days ago

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The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life.

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it.

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble.

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky.

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean.

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance.

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs.

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life.

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.”

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter!

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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thegnomelord · 9 months ago

Note

I desperately need MORE background on how hound became the vicious beast (that I love just the way he is) and how Makarov tamed him!

Please

It's kinda hard to come up with background when I literally made hound on the fly lol, I didn't plan to give him any backstory and that blurb about being betrayed by price just came at the last moment.

But here's my current ideas:

CW:SFW ish HUGE SPOILERS for Hound's backstory (not cannon yet but the major themes), angst, discussion of torture, conditioning, SA, and Hound just having a very bad time.

Hound already had behavioural/aggression problems when he joined the military (the reasons for which are left open for the reader to imagine). Price pissed off some top brass officer and got Hound dumped on him as punishment and because no one else wanted Hound. But Price figured out that all Hound needed was a firm hand from someone he could respect, and with Hound, respect was a hard thing to earn. But Price earned it and in turn got himself the most loyal Sargent he'd ever seen.

Now for the angsty Makarov bit.

Hound was loyal as hell to Price when he thought he would be saved. It took Makarov like a solid year just to make small dents in Hound's will. Since Hound didn't know Russian, he'd get annoyed at the commands Makarov used, leading to more beatings. This was around the time Makarov started using shock collars and really leaned into turning Hound into his dog.

The whole conditioning thing was similar to how cult indoctrination works, Makarov made himself look like the only 'safe' source of comfort Hound had. He especially liked making Hound fight in a pit, be it putting him against actual dogs, people trying to join Konni, or other Konni members, with the prize being that whichever soldier won would get to use Hound however they wanted. And while Hound may be big (hc Hound around Konig's hight/whatever the max height for being in the army is), being regularly beaten, starved and sleep deprived meant he lost more fights against the soldiers than he won.

This made it easy for Makarov to effectively 'save' Hound, rough orders making his soldiers stop, giving Hound soft touches and a low soothing voice to listen to while he lay on the floor covered in blood, gore, cum, and god knows what else, just trying to recover. And Hound's brain hated it, was disgusted by the touch, but his body craved any form of comfort it could get regardless who it came from.

The real conditioning began when after a year in captivity the files for Hound's mission were released, and had been rewritten to make him K.I.A. and a traitor. And they were official documents too (Makarov had eyes and ears everywhere, including the C.I.A). Makarov had been putting the idea that Price had betrayed Hound for a while, so those docs just confirmed it.

Hound became a lot more anger prone and aggressive after the betrayal, going back to his old ways before Price became his CO, something Makarov played into.

Violence became both a coping mechanism and a way to survive; the more violently he fought and killed in the fighting ring, the better the rewards he would get (more food, more rest, more of Makarov's affection to distract him from what was happening), the stronger he would get and the more his body would recover, the more violently he could fight. Leading to a type of cycle where physically getting healthier turned him more violent.

Makarov was very keen on training Hound, taking away the small comforts as quickly as he gave them if Hound stepped one foot out of line, steadily conditioning him to be eager for his touch, his praise, his affection, to want to pleasure him and silence the parts of Hound's brain that begged him to stop.

In six months or so, Hound was already kneeling at Makarov's feet, head tilted back so Makarov could cut his initials into Hound's throat, desperate to have a collar wrapped around his neck, to belong to someone who wouldn't betray him like Price did.

And in another six, Hound was utterly devoted to Makarov, carrying out any orders given with extreme precision and violence all in the hopes of just getting a scrap of his attention.

Or something like that. The thing I like about reboot Makarov is how charismatic and tactical he is in comparison to the unhinged Makarov from the old series. This one gives me like cult leader vibes, which is why I think he would have been able to condition hound into being his. Makarov values loyalty and saw how loyal hound was to Price, so sought to have the same.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #vladimir makarov x male reader #vladimir makarov #good dog fic #Hound-reader #Hound-reader's backstory more or less #nothing cannon yet its just the first idea that came to mind #subject to change

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year ago

Text

Cabur

Summary: Twelve years ago the animal representing your soulmate appeared in your home. You finally get to meet him when his battalion arrives to help defend your planet from the droid army.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, injuries, brief mention of animal injury but it's not serious, a bit of angst, reader is a BAMF but it doesn't really get shown cause I'm garbage at action scenes, some mentioned PTSD at the end.

A/N: Sooooo this may be my sign to stick to only writing for the Bad Batch boys cause this is garbage. Turns out I'm not good at writing other clones. Also I wrote the smut before eating breakfast so if it's entirely indecipherable please forgive me.

Also Mide is pronounced Mee-deh.

MASTERLIST

It’s become a sort of legend within the GAR.

The clone who rides into battle on the back of a Nexu.

It’s a bit ridiculous. He doesn’t ride the Nexu. But, they are never far from each other.

No one ever dares to ask.

Most of them already know.

The others are too scared.

The only one that had asked was the General, which was forgiven since he probably didn’t expect his second in command to be closely trailed by a Nexu when they met for the first time.

His soulmate link, Wolffe had explained to his General. One of the rarest, where each soulmate is accompanied by the animal that represents their soulmate. The Kaminoans had been rather shocked when shortly after he was taken from his growth chamber, a fully grown Nexu appeared in the room. The feline had been entirely tame, until the Kaminoans had tried to separate them because clones were not allowed to pursue their soulmates due to some of the early clones deserting for their soulmates.

Separation hadn’t worked, as the Nexu proceeded to rampage through the halls of Tipoca City until she was reunited with Wolffe. Only Wolffe could seem to control her, and so the Kaminoans begrudgingly allowed the Nexu to stay.

She learned quickly, coming to Wolffe’s defense even during training. It didn’t take long for Wolffe to teach her how to fight, and how to take down droids. She never hesitated, even after the war started, fearlessly following him into even the ugliest battles.

He had spent much of his free time thinking about his soulmate. They’re obviously a fierce fighter, given the predatory nature of Nexu. Strong and brave. He often wondered what kind of animal they have that represents him.

***

The last thing you had been expecting twelve years ago was a loth-wolf pup to show up in the middle of your home.

It had appeared out of nowhere, startling both you and your parents. You hadn’t known what it was at first, until a quick search had directed you to the supposedly extinct loth-wolf. Why it had appeared suddenly in your home...that was another quick search.

Your soulmate link.

You had always wondered what it might be, seeing as you had no mark or strange dreams, or any of the other typical links between soulmates. Developing this late, though, was confusing. You didn’t think much about it, though. Fate was not something to question. Everything would make sense eventually. Your people believed that fate drove every decision, every event in your life. Everything happens for a reason, all directed by fate’s design.

Already twice the size of a tooka, the pup grew quickly, outgrowing your parents hut. It grew big enough to ride within a couple years and you often did. When you moved into your own hut, you built it big enough to fit you and your wolf comfortably.

You often wondered about your soulmate. Who they are, what they’re doing, what kind of animal they have. You wonder how you’ll meet. Will they come here? Your people don’t leave your planet often. Aside from the few who show great prowess for politics and get sent to represent you in the senate, not many else leave. Your people prefer simple, quiet lives. Though you have technology, most of your food is grown or hunted, and your medicine is a practice that’s been passed down for generations.

You had thought perhaps you were meant to leave, that you would meet your soulmate somewhere else. Your strength, however, was not in politics. You were a natural fighter. So instead you stayed on the planet, defending your village and hunting to provide food. Maybe you weren’t meant to find your soulmate elsewhere. Perhaps your soulmate was in one of the other villages.

You think that, until the war starts.

Your planet is mostly untouched for two years. There was no strategic reasoning to invade your planet, other than simply being part of the Republic. It keeps your planet untouched, at least until the Separatists begin to get desperate.

Word reaches you one morning of a droid army approaching one of the neighboring villages. It had landed two days ago and it was slowly burning its way through village after village. They had already reached out to the Republic for assistance, but they were already stretched as it was.

You don’t give up hope.

You’re right not to.

Two days after the message had been sent, they arrived. The roar of gunships is loud as troops drop in at the next village over from yours. You were already there, preparing defenses for when the inevitable attack began. They’d already burned through the village to the North. You had scouted over the hill earlier, and had spotted the dust cloud kicked up by the army’s movements. Fighters from surrounding villages have gathered, but it’s not nearly enough.

The clones arrive like a blessing from the Maker.

You’re glad to see them, even if some of them stare and whisper as you pass. You know they’re not staring at you. They’re staring at your wolf. Loth-wolves are supposed to be extinct, so actually seeing one would be a bit shocking. Even more so, seeing one outside of Lothal.

You had been called to the village leader’s hut, which was being used for battle planning. The village leader had chosen you as her second in command, since you were one of the best fighters. You were also one of the few still alive that had seen battle before.

Not every village on the planet was as interested in peace as the others. One such village had decided to attack a neighboring village out of nothing but greed shortly before the galactic war started. Fighters from across the planet had been called to aid in the fight, and you had been one of them. The most battle you’d seen back then had been on hunting trips. Though you were skilled, you’d never actually fought before.

It had been terrifying, but you had quickly proved your skills and your ability to stay calm under pressure. You had made a name for yourself, and had carried that still to this day.

Most of the more experienced fighters had been sent ahead to try and aid other villages, but it had been fruitless. The droid army had wiped out both the fighters, and some innocent villagers caught in the crossfire.

This village had been evacuated, and it was going to be the last stand against the droid army. If they couldn’t be defeated, then the planet was lost. The arrival of the clones to aid you had renewed hope in the possibility of securing your planet and its safety once more. There would be a lot to do, a lot to rebuild after, but now there was hope you would get to do so.

You make your way towards the hut, your wolf running ahead. It’s strange, usually he never left your side unless you told him to. He had been acting strangely all day. You had blamed it on the nervous energy in the village, and the approaching army. Everyone had been a bit on edge, and being an animal, he could likely pick up on it more than anyone.

You hear a commotion as you approach the hut, finding your wolf cornering one of the clones. Your eyes widen, thinking the worst, and you hurry over. Some of the clones are laughing by the time you reach them, and you realize your wolf is licking this clone.

“Mide,” You pull on the fur at his neck to try and get him to stop. His tail is wagging, creating a breeze behind him. “Mide, stop.”

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, a loud growl reaching your ears. You turn, eyes widening as you stare into four red eyes and a wide mouth full of sharp fangs.

You scramble back, the Nexu following you. You’ve never seen one in person before, only read about them. They’re not native to this planet, so how did this one get here? And why doesn’t anyone else seem afraid of it?

“Cabur.” The stern voice of the clone reaches your ears. “Cabur, stand down.”

The Nexu doesn’t respond, crouching as it prepares to pounce. Do you run? You can’t outrun a Nexu. Why isn’t anyone trying to help? Why isn’t Mide helping?

The Nexu pounces, knocking you off your feet. You close your eyes, preparing for those teeth to sink into your skin, rip away at your flesh until you bleed out.

Something wet and rough drags across your skin from your shoulder to the top of your head. Your eyes snap open in surprise. Is the Nexu...licking you?

It licks you again, leaving a wet, gooey trail along your skin.

“Easy, girl.” The clone pets its head, trying to nudge it back.

It steps back reluctantly, its own tail swishing back and forth as it watches you. A hand appears in your line of sight and you take it, the clone hauling you to your feet easily. You brush the dirt off, wiping the Nexu spit from your face.

“Sorry about her.” The clone says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.”

“It’s alright. Mide has been weird all day too. He’s never run away from me like that before.” You stare up at him, taking in his face.

His face is stern, pinched a bit in focus. There’s a scar stretching from his forehead to his cheek, his eye having been replaced with a cybernetic one. He’s handsome, as you assume all the clones would be.

“Is she yours?” You ask, breaking the silence between you.

“It’s my soulmate link.” He says. “I’ve had her since I came out of my growth chamber.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking in surprise. “Mide’s also my soulmate link. Appeared about twelve years ago.”

“Really.” He says, giving you a strange look.

Before you can continue the conversation, the village leader and who you assume is the Jedi General approach you.

“I see you two have already met.” The Kel Dor says.

You glance at the clone for a moment as the village leader introduces you to General Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe.

“Come,” The General says. “We have much to discuss, and little time to do so.”

***

“What’s her name?” You ask as you and Commander Wolffe make your way into position. His Nexu is walking beside you, trotting along happily. Mide is walking beside Wolffe, looking perfectly content.

“Cabur.” Wolffe answers. “It’s Mando’a. It means guardian or protector.”

“Fitting name.” You say.

“She’s saved my life a few times.” He pats Mide’s side. “What about him?”

“Mide. He’s a mythical warrior who protected our people. He rode to war with the sigil of a wolf on his helmet.”

The corner of Wolffe’s mouth lifts. “Aptly named.”

You both stop, having reached the point you have to go separate ways. You mount Mide, looking down at Wolffe. “See you when the battle’s done?”

Wolffe nods, patting Mide’s neck. “Take care of her.”

Mide huffs out a breath, nodding his head just slightly as if agreeing. He would, even without having to be asked.

You know. Even without having to say anything you know. Just Mide’s reaction was enough to tell you. The link is so rare, and to have someone else with the same link suddenly appear on your planet like this...

It’s not just a coincidence.

Mide runs to your position, and you watch as the cloud of dust that the droid army was kicking up gets closer and closer, flashes of blue and red gradually disappearing as dust envelops the valley.

***

You’re covered in dirt, but you’re alive.

With the help of the clones, you had stopped the droid army from advancing much further, protecting the village. It had been a long battle, lasting into the night. The stars are out by the time you return to the village, weary after a long battle unlike any you’ve ever been in.

No squabble between villages will ever compare to that.

You had seen Wolffe shortly after your return to the village, nothing more than a passing glance across the fire as you’d helped both injured villagers and troopers. You’re both alive, you’re both alright. You had spotted Cabur slinking around the village, unharmed due to her training in fighting droids. Mide’s white fur is streaked with dirt, his feet and nose scratched from the droids, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

You’ll give him a big, juicy cut of meat later.

You’re cleaning the cut on his nose when you hear the footsteps approaching. Mide’s head lifts, ears perking and tail wagging as he sees who it is. Something brushes against your side, Cabur purring as she makes herself comfortable next to Mide. Wolffe approaches you, and you take a moment to look him over. His armor is streaked with dirt, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

“Good to see you.” You say, smiling softly.

He steps right up to you, gloved fingers grazing over the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“It’s just a scratch.” You say, skin tingling as his fingers continue to trail down your arm before dropping back to his side. “We’re not used to fighting droids.”

“You’re, uh...quite the fighter.” He says. “I think a Nexu was the perfect choice.”

Your cheeks warm a bit. You think the ferocious Nexu might be a bit of an exaggeration. It’s a compliment, though, that he thinks your skills are worthy of that representation. The loth-wolf is the perfect representation of him. He has the same dangerous gaze as Mide, the same fierce loyalty. The stern and serious battle-ready commander.

“Us clones...it’s forbidden for us to initiate the soulmate bond.” He says.

Your stomach clenches a bit at his words. You hadn’t even thought...you hadn’t even considered. You hadn’t had time to. Everything had been happening so quickly. You had never given consideration to the idea that your soulmate might not want you. Much less that he might have to reject you. All those daydreams, all those thoughts about what your life could be like with them...they’ve been nothing but fantasies and they might never be anything but.

“Most of us don’t agree.” He continues. “We all have an agreement not to say anything, not to report anything.”

“But...what if someone finds out?”

“We have to be careful so no one does.” He takes your hand, slipping something into it. “We’re preparing to leave. We already have our next orders.”

Your shoulders sink a bit. Of course they’re very busy. The war has been taking a turn. The attack against your planet is just proof of this. Having time with him right now is just another fantasy.

You walk with him to the gunships, taking your time as troopers load up around you. He turns, patting Mide on the nose as you reach one of the ships. Mide lets out a quiet whine, his ears falling.

You squat in front of Cabur, petting her head. “Take care of him, yeah?” She lets out a quiet sound, licking your cheek once more. You stand back up, facing Wolffe. “Come back? When the war’s over?”

He nods once and you stand up on your toes, kissing his cheek. He stares down at you long and hard for a moment before stepping away, sliding his helmet on. You watch as he boards the gunship, following it with your eyes as long as you can as it disappears into the sky.

You open your hand, looking down at what he’d slipped into it. A smile tugs at your lips as you stare at the item.

A comm device.

***

It’s been almost a year since the battle, since you met your soulmate. You’ve spoken as often as you can through the comm device, but for the last three months it’s been very quiet. You’ve gone stretches without speaking, but never this long.

You try not to worry.

The war had ended three months ago, around the time you had seemingly lost contact. You suppose with the restructuring of the Republic into the Empire and the sudden end to the war, things have gotten complicated for the clones. It could just be he hasn’t had a good time to step aside and secretly contact you. Despite your attempted reasoning, you can’t help but feel nervous about the sudden silence.

You’ve been keeping yourself busy helping the survivors from the destroyed villages resettle with other villages. While the army had been destroyed, the valley had become a wasteland of destroyed droids and the remnants from the battle. New huts were built and families integrated peacefully into new villages. The Senate had sent some relief, but it could only do so much. Homes could be rebuilt and crops replanted, but lives couldn’t be replaced.

You’ve buried far too many dead.

You try not to think your soulmate may be one of them.

He’s not. You know he’s not. You would have felt it. Mide would have died with him. Still, the thought haunts you. How easily he could be taken from you, and you barely got to know him.

Fate will make it work in the end. You try to remind yourself of that.

***

You’re out hunting when it happens.

Nearly four months since the end of the war, a year since you met your soulmate. You had been scouting the hills when you’d heard it. You’d moved your binocs to the sky, watching as a starfighter streaked across the sky like a smoking comet straight towards the trees just a few meters away.

The crash is loud, the trees shaking with the impact. Mide immediately takes off, darting into the trees. It’s not like him, still always sticking close to your side.

“Mide!” You call, immediately running after him.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It couldn’t be...could it? You hadn’t seen any identifying markers on the ship, the smoke too dense around it to see. It could be anyone, or anything.

If it wasn’t, Mide wouldn’t have run off like that.

You duck into the undergrowth, following the path broken by your wolf. You freeze instinctively as a low growl reaches your ears. You know that growl.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Cabur?”

The Nexu steps out of the bushes, tail swishing as she looks at you. It’s her. You know it. You drop to a knee, patting her head as she greets you.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Mide breaks through the bushes, dragging a limp body with his teeth. He drags the body over to you, letting him go gently. Wolffe’s body lays limp on the ground. There’s charred marks on his armor, likely from the crash. You push him over onto his back, staring down at his helmet. You trace the markings with your fingers, the same markings you remember.

A sob threatens to tear from your lips as you slip your fingers under the edge of his helmet, tugging it off. You cup the back of his head, lowering it gently to the ground.

He’s unconscious but still breathing.

Mide lays next to Wolffe, looking at you sadly. Cabur nudges his foot, letting out a quiet whine. He’s injured, likely worse than it looks if he crashed a starfighter. You need to get him back to the village, and soon.

You’re sweating by the time you maneuver him onto Mide’s back, climbing on behind him. You hold him as Mide runs through the trees and back up the hill towards the village. Cabur keeps pace easily, miraculously mostly uninjured from the crash.

You guide Mide into your hut, easing Wolffe off his back and onto your bed. You begin the tedious process of removing his armor, figuring out how to get each piece off and carefully stacking it in the corner. You peel the body glove off next, revealing his chest covered in bruises.

You head to your kitchen, grabbing herbs and a bowl, beginning to mash them into a paste as you’ve done a hundred times. You mix a tonic as well, moving back to his side before spreading the mixture across his chest, making sure to cover each bruise. You place bandages over each spot, letting the herbs do their work. You cup his neck, lifting his head a bit to help him drink the tonic. You can feel it, the pulsing energy from where your fingers are pressed against the skin of his neck.

He’s really here, right in front of you. Crashed right out of the sky, practically into your lap.

Mide curls up on his blanket, Cabur making herself comfortable beside him. You sit by Wolffe’s side, tending to him as you let the medicine work its way through his body. You only leave to make dinner and feed the animals before you’re sitting back at his side.

You grab his pauldron, tracing the image of the wolf with your fingers. The grey paint around the edges is slightly worn, more than it had been the last time you’d seen him. It’s hard to believe he’s really here. After four months of nothing, no sign that he’s alive and alright, no word on what’s happening aside from what was broadcasted on the news...four months of thinking the worst.

You trace his face with your fingers, allowing yourself to feel him. He’s really here. He’s real.

You stay by his side through the night, changing out the herbs as they dry. You nap a few times, trusting the animals to alert you if something happens.

He begins to stir around sunrise. You’d been checking his wounds, already mostly healed. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder as he shifts, his eyes cracking open.

“It’s alright.” You say, tracing gentle circles on his skin with your thumb. “You’re safe.”

He breathes your name like a prayer, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as he relaxes.

“I’m here.” You whisper, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

“I said I would.” He murmurs, turning his head to kiss your palm. “I said I’d come back.”

You shush him gently. “And you have.”

You get him sitting up, leaning against the wall. You feed him some soup after both Mide and Cabur greet him happily. He tells you about everything that happened since the war ended. He tells you about the Jedi and the inhibitor chips, deserting the Empire and getting his chip removed. He tells you about his fight to get here, and almost not making it.

You try not to think about it, relishing in the face he did make it. He is sitting here with you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the guilt. You can practically feel the sadness radiating from him. Your heart aches for him. He’s lost so much, and so much has changed so quickly. You can’t even imagine what it must have been like. What it must feel like for him.

You hold him, wrapping yourself around him. His bruises are almost completely healed, his strength returning as he holds you, his face pressed against your chest. Cabur creeps her way over, stretching herself out across your laps. Wolffe chuckles, patting her head. You tangle a hand on her fur, holding Wolffe with the other.

***

Wolffe settles into life in the village easily. He’s welcomed, not only as your soulmate, but also as a hero who helped save many lives. He accompanies you on hunts, learning as much about your culture as he can.

You settle into life with him easily too, adjusting to his presence like he’s been there the whole time. You’re glad your hut is on the edge of the village, as you’re both also rather insatiable. You have a year to make up for. A year of yearning and longing to make up for.

And you certainly do.

A body presses against yours as you finish loading the dishes in the sanitizer. You can feel him, every bit of his body through his thin shirt and soft pants. He’s softened a bit from the hardened soldier that had crash landed back into your life. You won’t complain. After the things you’ve heard, you’re happy he’s finally healthy and well taken care of.

You can also feel how hard he is against your ass.

His arms snake around your waist as you toss the dish towel on the counter. His lips trail up your neck, dragging along the soft skin.

“Miss me that much?” You ask, pressing back against him teasingly.

“Always.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss below your ear.

One of his hands snakes under your shirt, slowly sliding up your stomach, straight towards your breasts. You’re glad you ditched your breastband earlier as his warm hand cups your breast. He hums against your neck in approval, skilled fingers plucking at your nipple as he paints your skin with marks from his teeth.

“Wolffe,” You sigh his name as he switches breasts, giving the other one equal attention.

His other hand slips down your stomach, dipping into your pants. You’ve been wet in anticipation since his arms wrapped around you, his fingers gliding through your slick folds. Your legs tremble as he slowly circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers.

“So wet for me, cyare.” He murmurs against your neck, slipping two of his fingers into you.

“Yes,” You breathe, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Only for you.”

He growls quietly against your neck, pulling his hands free. He tugs your pants down before lifting you onto the kitchen counter. You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor. He tugs your hips closer to the edge, kneeling in front of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, still kept in the regulation cut. He sometimes lets his stubble grow out, and you’re still trying to convince him to grow a beard just to see how it would look.

He licks a stripe up your clit, hands pressing against your thighs to keep them open for him. His tongue swirls around your clit, his eyes lifted to stare at your face. Your lips part in a moan as he closes his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. Your free hand grips the edge of the counter, holding on as he eats you out.

Your first few times together had been awkward and fumbling as you tried to figure each other out. It had taken lots of practice, and many laughs, to learn each other’s bodies. What you like, what you don’t, what he likes. How to make him putty in your hands. He’s still just as stern and dominating as he had been as a commander, but you know deep down he sometimes needs someone else to take control, someone else to give the orders. Someone he trusts.

Your legs are shaking around his head, your own head thrown back in pleasure as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The noises are absolutely obscene as he slurps at your drenched pussy like he’s gone days without water.

He pulls away before you can cum, making you whine in protest.

His chin is slick with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You reach forward, yanking his shirt over his head. Your fingers trail along the soft curves of his body, lips pressing kisses against his skin. His hands undo his pants, letting them drop to the floor.

You bite your lip, your hand wrapping around his hard length. His hands drop to your thighs, resting there as you pump him. You meet his gaze, staring into his eyes as you guide him forward and into your heat. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him all the way in. A moan tumbles from your lips at the stretch, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him as close as you possibly can.

His arms wrap around your back, lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You both breathe for a moment, enjoying being so close, so connected to each other. You bury your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Musky and sweaty from being out in the warmth of the day working.

He adjusts his grip on you, holding you up as he begins to move. You meet his thrusts, tilting your head up to kiss him. It’s slow and soft, quiet moans passing between your lips. You hold onto him like you’re afraid he might disappear if you let go, like you might suddenly wake and find this has all been a dream.

His own fingers indent your skin, sharing your same fears. You know he’s here, you know it’s real, and he knows it’s real, but still, neither of you can forget the year you had been separated, the many times he could have died, the many times he could have been ripped from you.

“‘M close.” You murmur against his lips, nails breaking the skin of his shoulders.

“Gonna cum for me?” He growls, snapping his hips into yours. “Show me how pretty you look when you cum?”

Your head falls back, lips parted as you cum around his cock, moaning loudly. He watches you, memorizing your face. He’ll never forget it, but he commits it to memory every time.

A few more thrusts and he’s cumming with a growl, snapping his hips into yours a final time as he releases inside of you. You hold him against you, both of you riding out your highs together.

His hold around you is tight, clinging to you. You’re both breathing heavily, breaths mingling as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands gently rub his shoulders, working your way up his neck and into his hair.

“You’re right here.” You whisper, lips brushing his. “I’m right here.”

He exhales shakily, fingers tightening their grip just slightly.

You press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you.”

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420 @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu

#star wars #star wars fic #clone wars #clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #clones #clone trooper wolffe x reader

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mirixmoya · 7 months ago

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hello friends welcome to GRADING TORTURED POET SOCIETY SONGS BASED ON HOW EASILY I COULD TURN THEM INTO A HAYFFIE FIC (PART ONE) i hope u enjoy.

(for those interested but also my own future reference when i eventual do turn them into hayffie fics hehe)

i. fortnight: 5/10. potential post-war effie reflecting on their pre-canon and during-canon situationship. the "i love you / it's ruining my life" vibe is very Them but i'd have to write my way around all the wife lines.

ii. the tortured poets department: 8/10. good early-to-mid-situationship hayffie. good moments for haymitch trauma angst stuff. "who's gonna hold you like me?" is them. the wedding ring line could be just them messing around while drunk one night during games season; it's when effie realizes it's Real.

iii. my boy only breaks his favourite toys: 9/10. excellent endish situationship hayffie vibes, 74th + 75th era. has good lines for effie as doll / toy / trinket (ha) imagery. also good imagery for effie and haymitch both being pieces in The Games. also "he runs because he loves me" and "he was my best friend" and "there was danger in the heat of my touch" ... need i go on?

iv. down bad: 7/10. good for their relationship between the end of the war and when effie actually moves to twelve. "how dare you think it's romantic / leaving me safe and stranded" literally them. also lots of good stuff for effie's post-war isolation in the capitol.

v. so long, london: 3/10. has the potential for a (book-verse) post-war angst fic where effie and haymitch try their absolute hardest but ultimately have too much trauma + damage to make it work. idk if i wanna do that tho.

vi. but daddy i love him: 9/10. excellent song for pre-canon hayffie all around. effie's relationship to her womanhood / escorting in the capitol? check. effie's inner conflict over her feelings for haymitch vs. her capitolborn beliefs? check. "dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid" but oh no haymitch ruined them! we cheered! joking that she's having haymitch's baby to her parents just to piss them off... very effie behaviour. excellent song for that Haymitch Is Unlike The Capitol Dandies Effie's Been Raised To Love theme that i like. "i know he's crazy but he's the one".

vii. fresh out the slammer: 7/10. good song for smack in the middle of their situationship. winter vs. summer parallels. effie's seasons without haymitch vs. games season. restriction with her capitol bfs vs. freedom with haymitch. "all those nights he kept me going". the end is good for a post-war hayffie happiness moment.

viii. florida!!!: 8/10. really good song for a Effie's Relationship With The Capitol fic. the isolation, the beauty covering ugliness, etc. "this city reeks of driving myself crazy". "at least the dolls are beautiful" that's literally about the escorts. "you home's really only the town you'll get arrested in" okayyy book-verse effie angst.

ix. guilty as sin?: 10/10. HORNY HAYFFIE ANTHEM. i need to get back in my writing proper smut era i fear. so so much material for haymitch worshiping at the altar of effie's hips and thighs. a song for people who believe that like a good 65% of their relationship is based on the fact that they're both incredibly hot and they both love having incredible sex. true love tbh.

x. who's afraid of little old me?: 9/10. excellent fic for the Effie's Relationship With Her Escort Career stuff that i love. "so tell me everything is not about me / but what if it is?" self centered queen! the general backstage horrors of escorting. "i was tame, i was gentle, till the circus life made me mean" ... "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" ... "i am what i am cause you trained me" .... yeah.

xi. i can fix him (no really i can): 4/10. potential for a very very early situationship hayffie. general haymitch being a traumatized mess and effie trying her very hardest to help vibes.

xii. loml: 6/10. the first half is excellent for post-war hayffie coming back together. "who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames" yeahhh. but the second half ... the "you're the loss of my life" vibe ... could fit into the (book-verse) No Matter How Hard They Try They're Too Traumatized To Make It Work narrative but idk.

xiii. i can do it with a broken heart: 10/10. THE PERFECT SONG for 75th era effie being the perfect escort despite the fact that the world is falling away beneath her feet. "I cry a lot but I am so productive! It's an art!" is sooooo her. "i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like a plague" is haymitch avoiding her in an attempt to save her from Rebel Stuff but effie knows their relationship is only becoming more serious. she's miserable! she's hitting her marks! eyes bright! chins up! smiles on! everyone she loves might die! it's fine!

xiv. the smallest man who ever lived: 1/10. not a hayffie song at all. BUT potential effie + seneca relationship study fic?? mayhaps???

xv. alchemy: 7/10. good song for book-verse post-war post-torture effie going to haymitch in twelve. she's ditching the capitol, she's going back to her man! who are they to fight the alchemy? how could they ever deny it? his heart is reserved for her. the soulmastism! (not that they would ever admit that lmao)

xvi. clara bow: 10/10. ANOTHER PERFECT EFFIE CHARACTER STUDY SONG! the rose imagery? snow's impact on her life. "this town is fake, but you're the real thing". effie's relationship with the capitol / escorting / womanhood / fame / youth / patriarchy / etc. "flesh and blood amongst war machines" literally the escorts amongst The Games. "hell on earth is to be heavenly" + "promise to be dazzling". sexualization has liberated effie (given her a career, money, freedom) but at what cost? it's also her gilded cage.

anyway. thank u for coming to my extensive ted talk.

#effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie #haymitch x effie #the tortured poets department #(effie's version)#just my thoughts #im soooo normal about them #jk my brain is rotted

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b33zlebubz · 8 months ago

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RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER SEVEN

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past."

WEDNESDAY APRIL 24TH 2024 MEXICO, 0000 HOURS

The pain in your chest is getting worse.

It's hard to sleep that night for many reasons. One: with all the rain of the other night it's hard to find any wood dry enough for a fire. Mexico has relatively tame weather compared to what you're used to, but Springtime is a whole different beast, inconsistent and unpredictable. Nearly ninety degrees in the daytime and then dropping down to the fifties at night, you find yourself sweating all day just to be freezing and damp when the sun sets. The thin blanket you pull out of the back of a wrecked truck doesn't help much and neither does the fact that you've developed a fever.

Two: you're definitely sure you have at least one broken rib. The first day after the battle you had the adrenaline to numb the pain, but now that it's faded, it's easier to notice how it takes a great deal of effort just to breathe without your lungs spasming painfully. Each breath aches, rattling in your chest. You can't put pressure on your side without seeing stars and the bruises are damn near black across the expanse of your ribs. Still, you won't rest more than a few hours at a time—knowing that the second you do, you might not be able to get up again.

And that brings you to the last thing; the radio is still dead silent.

You're staring at the ceiling, leaning back against the truck's wall as you listen to it; the static. The charge has died twice now and both times you've revived it with an emergency battery. Once that runs out, you plan to charge it with the SUV. The longer you listen to the buzz of an empty signal paired with the steady sound of Ghost's breathing beside you, the longer you get to thinking about what might happen if nobody comes to find you.

You think about the first time you put your survival training to use; left for dead in some safe house during your tour in Yemen, left by your squadron in a rushed retreat. Back then, the pain in your side had been a nasty knife wound to your ribs, but now it was shattered bone and bleeding organs. The longer you listen to the static the easier it is to recall the coldness of concrete on your skin, the burn of sand-caked sweat and blood in your eyes. The sputtering static of your comms picking up no signal and the growing panic of being forgotten. The blood. The death. The memory once so far away now felt tangible again; real.

It's funny. The longer time went on the easier it was to forget about moments where you weren't so strong, but it was also easier to get lost in them whenever they unearthed themselves at the most inconvenient of times.

Then a warm hand on your shoulder shatters the illusion—and you panic.

Within moments, you're up again. You grab the unknown enemy by the front of his shirt and force him back against the floor with an audible thunk—causing weapons and gear to swing and the truck’s suspension to bounce. When the red clears from your vision, your eyes are locked with two tired, brown irises blown wide with surprise as your grip tightens on his wrists against the floor.

Shocked to your core, your body goes rigid.

You lost a lot of your usual muscle mass during your first few weeks in Camp Viking; after Yemen and everything else that happened. Stress, too much sleep or not enough, and a complete lack of appetite were a fatal combo to all the progress you made after signing your life away—so when Ghost met you, you were the weakest you've been since before joining the military.

Now: your shoulders are broader, arms and legs thicker and crisscrossed with ragged scars. Skin glistens with the sweat of a fever as you hold him, still bigger than you, pinned to the floor.

The breath knocked from his lungs; he's panting. You're close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your face, to see how your own labored breathing stirs the hair laying on his forehead. Close enough to realize you've only ever seen him out of breath like this one other time—

Christmas Day.

His eyes flash with something familiar and you know he remembers it, too.

You shoot off of him in an instant. Mind reeling, you turn to leave. Run. Do something to quell the fire in your veins and the burn of memories in your delirious mind.

"Angel, wait—"

The nickname falls on deaf ears. Before he can gather his bearings enough to scramble upright, you've grabbed the radio and disappeared into the night with a burning face and a newfound heat in your bones.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 26TH 2024 MEXICO, 0300 HOURS

"Echo 0-2 to Actual."

Your voice sounds rough with insomnia whenever you speak into the radio for the hundredth time.

It's been two nights since you've been in the van with Ghost, two nights since you've talked. You're avoiding him—it's just as clear to you as it is to him—and embarrassment ravages your mind as you continue to keep yourself upright, keep yourself moving. Now, the stretch of bodies was four lines deep instead of two. Now, sitting on top of the SUV with ruined boots dangling over the edge and a raggedy blanket on your shoulders; it officially burned like hell to breathe.

Above you, the stars are the brightest you've seen since Camp Viking. The night is just as quiet.

You close your eyes for a long time, dread settling in your stomach at the thought of staying here much longer; of what might happen if you're not found. You think about how long the walk from here to the next civilization might be—if, by some miracle, they don't shoot you on sight.

Bandaged, anxious hands hold the radio tight in your lap before pressing the button and bringing it to your face once more.

"Again, this is Echo 0-2 attempting to reach Actual. I've got a wounded Lieutenant with me…is anyone there?"

Static.

You try again, "Echo 0-2 to Actual. Watcher. Anyone."

Again, nothing. You sigh, batting the side of the small machine against the heel of your hand. Crickets chirp somewhere far off in the distance as you curse and eventually give up. Tired eyes fall over the pitch-black landscape before you, getting lost in the quiet. Your skin prickles against the cold air as your eyes sink shut. Shoulders slump for what feels like the first time in weeks as exhaustion, a gentle but swift current, sweeps you under.

"Nice night."

You jump and whip around, clutching the fabric of the front of your uniform.

"Fuck," you breathe out. "Just you."

He stands with what appears to be two of the American MREs you found in hand, his uniform notably cleaner now—having shed his dark, dirt-matted jacket for a dark compression shirt that stretches over thick muscles. He looks…better. Able to stand upright, at the very least. There's more color to his face but that could very well just be the cold. The fresh bandages you helped him put on the last time you talked don't show any signs of being bled through and he definitely doesn't have a hard time sneaking up on you—a good sign.

"Well…don't sound too excited."

You only huff at his remark, turning back around to look at the radio in your lap as your face burns with embarrassment. Your hands are still shaking as you take a deep breath to try and steady yourself, and you wait for him to finally mention it—acknowledge it. Your hands on his wrists. His heaving chest. Your breath on his face. Christmas Day.

He shifts and at first you think he might be leaving now that he knows where you are. Instead, he appears beside you, sliding down to dangle his legs over the edge and wordlessly hand you one of the MREs.

Your throat constricts at the very thought of food, staring down at the sad, brown package as he tears his open and sets it up to heat. You squint at the label to read the contents.

Cheese Tortellini in Tomato Sauce. Well, there are worse things.

"No luck?" He asks.

You let out a sigh of relief and mentally thank whatever God above he decided against bringing it up. Instead, you shake your head wearily as you set the MRE aside, deciding to save it for when you know you'll keep it down. Hypocritical, you know, but you've only been able to find a handful in the rubble thus far.

"No," you breathe, disheartened. "Still nothing."

A moment passes, filled only by the sound of crickets and the rustle of plastic packaging. There's movement in the distance followed by barking. Coyotes, no doubt.

You both sit in silence for a while and your thoughts slip back into dark territory. You rub your chilly arms as you stare out over the hellscape before you—wondering how many more bodies out there you have left to gather. How many families you're failing; leaving their beloved soldiers in the mud to rot because you're losing the ability to walk straight.

Then, Ghost speaks, ripping you out of the depths of your head.

"Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"

You shoot him an incredulous look. Then, you shake your head with a scoff. You know what he's trying to do; lighten the mood, in his own strange way. For a moment it works, and it's easy to pretend you're somewhere else. A simpler time, maybe, where all you had to worry about was which hallways to take to avoid being seen sneaking around the barracks.

You try not to let his obvious attempt at lifting your spirits work. So, you only raise an eyebrow at him, "really?"

"Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?" He repeats again, nonchalant as ever, as he pushes his food around the package with his fork.

You stare at him for a while before deciding to humor him with a sigh. "Too many bananas…or something?"

"'Cause he's dead."

"Hm," you nod your head, pursing your lips into a line. "That was bad even for you."

He huffs, "too soon?"

"Far too soon."

"Noted." He shifts, placing his food to the side to take something out of his pocket. After all these years, it surprises you that even he's still off-put by the smell of death in the air. "You got a light on you?"

A stupid question—and he knows it.

"Always. Why?"

He pulls a full pack of Marlboro Reds out of his pocket, flicking the top open. The packaging is slightly crumpled but otherwise remains spotless, unlike the rest of him. He plucks one out and holds it out to you.

You glance at the cigarette, then up at his face—almost shocked he managed to keep them safe while the rest of him is so beat up. You notice bruises are beginning to show under his eyes from his broken nose and there's a stubble starting to form on his jaw, patchy with scars you never noticed until now.

You take out your lighter. An orange glow lights up his battered face as you flick it twice, let the flame catch, and then shut it again. He takes a deep inhale, sitting back on his other hand, before letting the smoke billow out past his chapped lips.

"Fuck," he sighs, already slumping with relief. "Could always count on you for a light. Good to know that hasn't changed."

"What can I say," you respond, managing what you can of a small smile. "I'm an angel."

He chuckles lowly. "You're anything but, Colonel."

He offers the cigarette to you. It's tempting, really tempting, but the pain in your lungs is far more annoying than the nagging effects of withdrawal.

"I'm good," you brush his arm away and attempt to hide the tremor in your hands. "I quit a few years ago."

"Hm," He seems surprised, or maybe he's humoring your obvious lie, you're unsure. Nevertheless, he presses the cig to his lips again. "Good on you, then."

You find yourself relaxing again slowly, anxious thoughts easing as you breathe in the smell of nicotine and look up at the stars above. It's silent save for the sounds of the desert, and you find yourself thinking about a time where you both sat just like this for hours. Getting by with nothing but the warmth of a heater, a flickering lantern, and a pack of cigarettes to keep you both company. You remember laughing until your stomach hurt at his dry humor, once upon a time.

"This place is hell," Ghost says, deadpan as ever, as he exhales another cloud of smoke.

Flashes of cold concrete, rough sand, and nauseating heat flash through your mind again. You realize, then, you prefer the warmth over the cold any day—no matter what you've gone through.

"I think I'd rather be in hell," you mutter, rubbing your arms. "At least it's warm, there."

He chuckles a little, and you wonder if he's reminiscing just as you are.

"That it would, Colonel," he says. "That it would."

It's quiet again. Years ago, the silence might've been filled by soft touches—a head against a shoulder or a hand on a back. Instead, you both just sit there. His hand is just centimeters away from your own, and you wonder if it would be easier to take it or pull away. Or just…talk. You want to speak, want to apologize or something—but the words are stuck in your throat. You want answers, you want closure, but your hand curls into a fist as you realize that fuck. You're not strong enough to break the question.

He's staring at you. You can feel when he does it. For some reason, you always have. After a moment, you hear him take a breath. He leans back on his hand as the other flicks his cigarette and comes up to touch the sore part of his head.

"You know…" He begins with a sigh. His mouth opens and shuts again, hesitant. Suddenly, he looks away. "I—"

"This is Watcher trying to reach Echo 0-2 and Bravo 0-7," a garbled, female voice interrupts him from the radio. "We hear you, Angel."

@crazy-phan-girl13

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley

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cardinalcanis · 1 month ago

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Fire and Blood part 4: precious things.

[Part 3]

Summary: Ovidious and Guilliman have a tense argument regarding the recent events with Zadkiel.

TW: Some good old angst, fluff, Guilliman being bad with emotions.

Word count: 1715

Collab fic with: @jaghatai-khock

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets

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

Ovidious didn’t fight him, he just followed. Followed through the door he ripped off in panic, passed the claw marks on the floor and wall with peeled off pieces. Out of Zadkiel’s unsettlingly bare room, by all the standing Lamenters and later on terrified serfs. His beloved just followed as asked and Guilliman couldn’t utter a single word while silence accompanied them like an unwanted guest that you are too polite to tell them to leave.

There were no loving jokes or seating at each other’s side. It was him on his superhuman sized chair, Ovid in a human sized one and the large desk between them. Just like their first encounter, as if they had become strangers again. There was a decisive yet fearful spark in his honeyed eyes, was Sulla scared of him? Had the sweet honey he had been fed gone from bountiful and runny to cloudy hard to swallow crystals?

The room they had spent so much time together no longer felt cozy and familiar, a sanctuary now invaded by an overwhelming force. Soldiers over war machines wearing the banners of uncertainty and distrust marched over once fertile fields, turning them into trenches.

“You were smoking” he said, breaking the silence, his voice seeming to cause the impression of las fire in the night.

“I’ve only had one today.” Ovid’s voice tame yet resolute, a standing fortress wall.

Theoretical: he needs to get answers out of what happened. Practical; he must ask the question. No, things are not as simple. Theoretical: he must know the truth of what happened despite his and Ovid’s feelings about it…

“Practical, let your nephew be his own person.” Ovidious interrupted Guilliman’s train of thought, he had truly learned how his mind operated.

“Not if that involved causing him to have a meltdown and mutilating his hair.” He heard Zadkiel screaming from far corners on the ship, that visceral pain, the fact he didn’t find Ovid and being told he was amid the same place of screams.

“Lord Guilliman” yes, Ovid must be thinking he hated him, no other way could he be so proper and defensive. “Zadkiel is a walking meltdown, I’ve been telling you since the first day you found him.”

“If you thought of the boy like that, why didn’t you call me to accompany you to get the report.” He had to go with Tyberos instead, a stranger to him for all things considered.

“Because you would shelter him from the truth! Look at the words you use with him: ‘boy’, ‘mutilate his hair’. When Tyberos and I opened the door…”

“This is NOT your issue to deal with Ovidious! This is NOT your family! You do NOT understand!” He barked back before he could properly greenlight the contents of his words. His hearts sank down into his chest seeing how his beloved recoiled back and increased the distance between them. “Beloved it’s hard to…”

“Do not ‘beloved’ me after what you said.” Ovid said in a mournful tone, eyes slightly watery. “Long ago, you said that you trusted me with your soul. That you wanted me not to only be part of your world but to be in it, be with you in it. You asked me to care for Zadkiel like my own blood, as I was part of you therefore he was part of me too.” He stuttered the last words. “Was that a lie my Lord? Am I your beloved only when it doesn’t break your careful plans?”

“Ovid I…” the thoughts in his head were running with so many possible dialogue paths.

“I am an adult Roboute Guilliman, what you are sheltering your nephew from becoming…”

“...it is not what…” Most of them do not end well, and all seem to be his fault.

‘...If you wish me to just step out of your life and just do the job you brought me into your ship for…”

“...beloved please…” he must remain calm, emotion caused this, maybe it is for the best, at least he will be safe.

“...I’ll hold no bad blood towards you. It’s not the first time I’ve discovered I’m not as important as I thought.”

Fuck the practical.

“I was afraid, Ovidious Sulla, I was so afraid alright.” Pathetic “I looked for you, they told me you went to check Zadkiel due to a certain incident he had.” The wound on his neck, it hurt. 10,000 year old poison that is never gone. “Then I heard the screams, I’m not blind, I know his strength, just like the one of his father who I failed to.” The hopelessness that eats his soul is expanding, he’s getting numb. So cold, so hollowed, only pain. “Just as I was too late for Sanguinius I was for Zadkiel, I failed him too.” Is Ovid still in the room? He can’t see with such watery eyes, there’s only this void eating him. “I was afraid I was going to be late for you too, that I had failed you.” He feels so weak all of the sudden, the pain of the wound, it’s exhausting. “Just like the Emperor failed us, we failed him, we failed each other and I failed the Imperium… you are the only one I haven’t failed to until now…” he feels himself drifting, his soul fading, eaten by that despair Yvvraine warned him about.

Guilliman felt his breath escape him, too weak to take another one. Then someone breathed for him, parting his lips into a kiss.

“Beloved, stay with me.” He knew that voice, he hadn’t left.

Roboute kissed the man back, truth be told, he had gotten used to the taste of smoke in Ovid’s mouth. The strong flavor was slowly grounding him, he wished he was a normal human, so he could squeeze him with all his strength without fear, and have a simple home to come back to together after a day of honest work. See their children grow, get old together… he’ll never be able to give Ovidious any of that yet he stays. What could he offer him? There is no life by his side.

The sudden sting of a slap brought him back.

“I said” slap “stay with me” slap “you” slap “oversized” slap “ blueberry.”

He caught the hand coming for another slap, and brought it to his lips, kissing the worn metallic fingers. Being mindful that not a single knuckle is left without his lip’s touch. The primarch looked into his beloved’s eyes, he had forgotten how honey never spoils.

“You were right, I did tell you one lie.” He pressed Ovid’s hand on his cheek, wanting for the touch to never leave his skin. “When we first brought Zad here, a priest came to see him all happy and full of zealous delusion.” He paused, coming back slowly to his more measured cadence. “There was nothing left of the man to even figure out the order of events, his remains had to be picked up with a mop. I keep Zad in a tight leash so this doesn’t happen again, the Imperium has taken down primarchs that are inconvenient for them before, twice in fact. I cannot lose Zadkiel again.” he dug his face on Ovid’s neck, letting out a humm. “Then I would feel bad for keeping him in a strict cage, so I would ignore all his violent self destructive fighting.”

“There are other ways, Roboute.”

“What? Telling him that failed him? That I failed his father? Every time I see him I am reminded of Sanguinius’ last words asking Lion and me when should we meet again, him knowing full well he was not going to make it?”

Ovidious kissed both of his tear soaked cheeks.

“Yes you should.”

Guilliman frowned, locking eyes with him.

“It will break the bo… Zadkiel even more.”

“It will break the cycle of your family never sharing the information that matters.”

Throne, how could a man disassemble him and put him back together with such ease? Guilliman wondered, what would have been if the Emperor of Mankind had shared his plans and doubts with his sons? Maybe Lorgar wouldn’t have seen him as a god, preventing what Guilliman had to do in Monarchia, making the heresy never happen. Maybe they all would still be here, closer, an actual family. He can still have a family.

“Zadkiel and you, you are my family. Sheltering us from the hard truths was how our father lost us.” Guilliman’s fingers ran along Ovidious’ hair, making sure not to mess with the styling so the man would not nag. “You are right, I must speak with Zadkiel.”

The redhead cradled Roboute’s face in his hands before planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Do you remember what I told you right before the first time we kissed?”

“You mean in the middle of that argument when you climbed on top of my desk so you could contradict me while looking me in the eye? A lot was said.”

How much he loved seeing his Ovid chuckle, small wrinkles forming around his eyes, the way his upper lip curled.

“You remember that I said Roboute, right before I kissed you, thinking it was the worst and last choice I would ever make.” He got close enough for their noses to touch.

Of course he remembers.

“That you knew, one day, everyone will be able to see the man that you see in me.”

Just like that first time Ovidious leaned forwards, barely grazing his lips with the whisper of a kiss. And just like that time, he pulled him closer, consenting into the imprudent and borderline heretic act they would be committing time and time again. What would set the Imperium ablaze with controversy if the truth about it would be let loose, maybe one day he’ll be able to love Ovid out loud, for now he must worship his beloved in secret.

The man stepped out of his lap and held a hand to ‘help’ stand up from the chair, as if he could actually lift him. Guilliman amused him.

“Practical.” Ovid said. “We wash our faces then you go talk to your nephew. I know he will see the man I do if you tell him the truth.”

#fanfic #warhamer 40000 #my writing #wh40k oc #m!oc #primarch #w40k #warhammer 40k #dad!sanguinius au #zad tag #warhammer fanfic #Collab fic #tyberos #tyberos the red wake #roboute guilliman #roboute guilliman x male!oc #primarch headcanon #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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restlessmaknae · 7 months ago

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the heart that wants to see you // hendery

➳ Characters: prince!Hendery x female!reader/you

➳ Genre: fantasy, magical kingdom au, magical school au, angst

➳ Words: 6k

➳ Warning: mentions of pressuring parents, emotional and physical abuse (on reader's parents' part)

➳ A/N: This is a spin-off for my Mark-centered story 'enchanted', but it can be read on its own. If you still want to know about reader (named Yoojung in 'enchanted') and Hendery's previous scenes, but don't want to read a whooping 19k for that, I've put together the briefing of their main scenes from the Mark fic.

Also, this story is dedicated to @dat-town. She's an inspiration for so many reasons, and not just because she inspired this story. Love you loooots! ❤️

➳ Spotify playlist

➳ NCT taglist: @s00buwu, @winterbeartaehyungbestboy, @sweetjaemss, @stories-inbetween-the-stars, @squiishymeow, @heyditseeey

5 months after the end of the yearly contest

You used to genuinely believe that once you would make it to the Four Kingdoms’ United School of Applied Elemental Magic after four absolutely insane weeks of learning how to tame all four elemental magic - water, air and earth apart from your fire powers - and passing all the rounds, you would be happy. On the other hand, it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

How you had passed the last round made it all seem futile, and you had this gawking guilt inside of you that somehow, you were here unfairly, you had just been lucky. Could it be considered luck though when each and every time you met Prince Minhyung in the corridor, and you didn’t see his friends from the contest, you were reminded why they weren’t here, why Prince Hendery wasn’t here?

You had a deal after all. The last round could have ended with two winners, but no, Hendery had to surrender before the time limit would be up, a few seconds before you could have both been given a pass. You could have both won. You could have both made it to the school. Sure, the judges would have had the chance to let either both of you win, one of you or neither of you since you hadn’t finished the battle within the given 15 minutes, but at least you would have had the chance.

Now, whenever you were reminded of Prince Hendery’s absence, you felt an avalanche of overwhelming emotions, and you couldn’t quite place them. He had explained that he had his reason for surrendering, but how could he have justified it? You had been so angry at him, you had been so frustrated at him because it had hurt your pride that he had let you win as if you had been a charity case, a mere consul and magic professor’s daughter, not royalty, and yet…

You found yourself missing him, his silly jokes, the way he could always light up the mood, the way his blossoming smile made your heart do somersaults, the way he had consoled you on the rooftop tower after the second round when you had thought that you had messed it up for good and you could have been eliminated, and you had missed his mere presence because now there was only a shadow of him beside Prince Minhyung whenever you were having lunch in the canteen. Your eyes were still searching for him in the corridors, in the training rooms, in the canteen, to no avail. He would not come back, you knew that.

And now, there was little to no chance of seeing him again because for the next 2 years, you would be staying at the wizardry school while he would be doing his duties in the Water Kingdom, and he had no reason to visit the school anymore.

Was it betrayal? Was it pity? Was it just him being absolutely stupid?

Call it however you want, but like the bruises that you got when you were carelessly practising, knowing fully well that you could literally get burnt, it fucking hurt. Because you let him in, and he left you right there, all alone, within the walls of your carefully crafted fort.

10 months after the end of the yearly contest

One thing that was easier after the contest had come to an end was to get along with others who had made it with you to study at the school. You could laugh along with Seunghun’s joke instead of seeing a powerful rival in him, you could accept the fact that Xiaoting was genuinely kind to you, not just trying to poke at you with her flawless attitude, and you could finally lean into the reassurance that you would spend 2 years with these people, and no one was at the risk of elimination anymore.

So you and Chaeyoung spent more time together than before even though you were assigned single rooms once the term started, hence you weren’t roommates anymore. Prince Minhyung also stayed his humble, boyish self, and even though he had to go back to the palace from time to time to take care of some duties - attend ceremonies, consul meetings and formal events between royalty -, he wasn’t given any special treatment because he was a prince, and he spent most of his time with you and Chaeyoung.

More precisely, he spent most of his time with Chaeyoung because the two had gradually grown closer since the school started, and you didn’t like third wheeling, so you didn’t bother them when you felt like they wanted some privacy to themselves. Oftentimes, you escaped to the rooftop tower, or squeezed your frustration into practising even more - a coping mechanism that you had grown fond of, too bad it didn’t make you feel better all the time. It was a distraction of some sort, though.

That’s when and where you met Kim Jiwoong, one of the most promising wizards in training of the Fire Kingdom who was in his second year of studies after successfully passing all the rounds in the previous yearly contest. Even though you had never met him before, both of you coming from the Fire Kingdom meant that you had a mutual understanding of your powers, the strengths and weaknesses you had with other elemental powers, and the pressure to do well at the wizardry school.

Like the elements themselves, the families of the Fire Kingdom were the most intense, the most pressuring and the most vicious. The royal family also ruled with iron fists, and there were no exceptions to any of their rules. That’s what you liked the most about your own kingdom, yet, that was also what made it difficult to not feel so worthless when you made a mistake. Having someone older than you (even by just a year), someone from your own kingdom, help you train was an excellent opportunity to improve, and you were both fine with silence as well, so he was the perfect training partner, really.

Months passed by, and the brewing rage inside of you calmed down, you tamed it into a sleeping volcano instead of one that could erupt anytime. You were doing well at school, your teachers praised you, your parents were proud of you, and these were what you focused on instead of the ache in your heart. You almost convinced yourself that it was alright, you couldn’t be swayed by the idea of meeting Prince Hendery again because why would you, it was merely an unrealistically hopeful (or fearful) scenario in your head?

Then, he showed up unannounced at the gate of the school, and when you, Prince Minhyung and Chaeyoung met him in the corridors, your heart betrayed you as it started thumping vehemently. That traitor.

“Hendery!” Minhyung exclaimed giddily and did their signature handshake with the boy before hugging him briefly. Chaeyoung was next, she also let him hug her while exchanging a few words with the boy, but when it was your turn, your legs froze, your mind blank.

Prince Hendery didn’t seem fazed by your reaction, instead, he acted as casually as he usually did, yet, that just bugged you even more. When he hugged you, it felt so out of place, his warm touch not easing the pain of the thorns that were searing your heart at the thought of the boy.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured into the embrace, and it didn’t slip your attention that he toned down his loud voice, so that only you could hear him.

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ was what you really wanted to say, yet be it your pride or your agony, you didn’t let the words roll off your tongue. Instead, you mumbled something akin to:

“It’s good to see you.”

Hendery let go of you, and the moment he did so, your heart churned. It reminded you of the moment you had shared on the rooftop tower after the second round. When you had almost been eliminated because you had messed up the exercise in front of the judges. You had been so used to blaming and punishing yourself for all the mistakes you had done, that it had come as a second nature to do so by that point. So when the boy had tried to console you, to protect you from your own guilt, you had tried to send him away. ‘How dare he comfort you when you deserve to feel this way’, was what you had thought, and you had managed to push him away, but only until he had caught your arms and put his arms around you.

For the briefest of a moment, something akin to hurt flashed in his orbs too, and you wondered if he was replaying the same scene in his head. Then, the moment was gone, his frown was replaced by his trademark wide smile, and he asked you all what you were up to.

“What brings you here?” Chaeyoung inquired after you all said a few words about your first year at school, and how it was crazy that it was almost coming to an end. Meaning that it was almost a year ago that you had first met.

“I’m here to pass the list of applicants from our own kingdom for this year’s contest to the office. So I’m really just coming and going, but it’s great that I didn’t have to find you for myself because we bumped into each other like this,” he explained as he flashed a content grin, and you wished it had been so easy for you to smile like this. To smile at all.

“It is great,” Minhyung hollered excitedly, and asked about Hendery’s friend, Xiaojun, who had also been a part of the contest until the third round. Talking about the contest came so easily to him just as well as to Hendery.

You hated how it seemed to have such a different effect on you. You were convinced you were over this, the blaming, the frustration, the angst, the second-guessing, and now here was Prince Hendery, and despite dreaming about this moment no matter how much you would have absolutely denied daydreaming about it, your heart was bleeding as if the wound had never healed.

You could see from the corner of your eyes how Chaeyoung nudged Minhyung in the side, and they started talking about having to go somewhere. You knew where this was going, but before you could excuse yourself alongside them, it was just the two of you with Hendery in the corridor, the sounds of your friends’ chatting fading in the background.

You looked up at the boy expectantly, all wide eyes, long limbs, silly little messy locks that covered his left eye almost entirely, ones that you were itching to put aside, but the weight of reality was heavier than your own inner desires, so you resisted doing so. The boy didn’t seem different than the last time you had seen him, but it was probably because he wasn’t in a fancy royal attire, more like a casual one with a satin shirt and cotton pants, paired with dress shoes, all in the many shades of blue, the representative colour for the Water Kingdom.

You stood there in your burgundy inflammable jacket and sport pants, on your way to practise in the Fire Kingdom’s own school attire, and the distance between you two had never seemed wider. He had never seemed more out of reach than now, only an arm length away from you.

“Shouldn’t you be going around with a bodyguard or something?”

“He’s waiting for me at the gates. We deemed that it would be safe within these walls,” Hendery explained with a shrug of his shoulders before inquiring. “Why? Are you worried about me?” He leaned down, leaning closer to you, and you rolled your eyes at his question. Like in old times, you thought to yourself, but you immediately tossed the thought aside. Nothing was like how it used to be before.

“I was just suddenly reminded of the incidence with you and Jaeeon,” you answered truthfully, thinking back to that time when the senate head’s son had punched the prince in the face when most of Prince Hendery and Prince Minhyung’s friends had still been in the competition. Jaeeon had thought it had been because of discrimination, and even though the boy had denied it, saying that one of your friends - Dayoung - had been eliminated already, he hadn’t punched back when Jaeeon had thrown a punch at him. Previously, you had asked him not to cause more trouble because his presence in the competition as a prince had already drawn unwanted attention. He had listened, but oh, how you wished he hadn’t.

“He’s been disqualified either way, so I don’t have anything to worry about anymore,” he pointed out flippantly, and you didn’t have it in you to say anything more on the topic. Truthfully, you wanted nothing else to say to him, but you let a few seconds of silence pass by - expectant, maybe - before you actually announced your intention.

“I think they’re already waiting for you, so I won’t hold you up,” you excused yourself with a bob of your head, ready to turn around to head to the training room.

However, before you could have gotten further away from the boy, he called after you, and fell in step with you, making you halt beside him if you didn’t want him to follow you.

“What?” You laced your arms in front of your chest defensively, looking up at him challengingly.

“I just… Are you still angry with me about the final round? You don’t seem like… like yourself,” he blurted out finally, and his realisation pained you more than if he had been oblivious to it all like how he had been oblivious to a lot of different things.

You held your chin up high, all the emotions of the past year flowing through you like an unstoppable tide, striking out at anyone and everyone. You felt all that confusion, disappointment, guilt and anger dance in your veins, wild and free, and you didn’t put a stop to them. You let them out, you let them burn through your body, to come out in an answer you wouldn’t have said so if you had held yourself back.

“I’ve changed, Hendery. If you hadn’t wanted me to, maybe you should have let the judges decide whom they want to pass instead of surrendering at the last minute, but oh, you just had to play the hero” you replied, cold and strong.

“I did it for you,” he justified, desperate and soft.

You let out a small huff of air before turning on your heel, and this time, Hendery didn’t follow you. Maybe he realised he had made the wrong choice the last time you had met.

2 years after the end of the yearly contest

Everything was white, blue, burgundy, green, white, blue, burgundy, green…

Everything was in the colours of the four kingdoms - the impossibly vivid green plants, the sea-like deep-blue ornaments, the burgundy flames of the candles dancing within glass walls, the white of the drink that was passed around to guests, and you weren’t even sure what was in it -, and it made your head spin. If it wasn’t already dizzying just how many people were in the hall of the Four Kingdoms’ United School of Applied Elemental Magic when you were used to seeing only a few dozens of students and professors alike, the colours definitely didn’t ease your discomfort. Much like the fact that your parents were there.

It was your graduation though. Everyone was celebrating that these 2 years were finally over, that this day would happen only once, and that now you were a much more valuable part of society. Some of you would become advisers for your respective kingdom’s royal families, consuls in the senate or professors in training at the school. Prince Minhyung, for one, would go back to the Air Kingdom, but now not just as a prince, but also as an adviser at the palace. Chaeyoung would join the senate just like her parents had done so. Yeonjun - who re-dyed his hair to a new shade of blue for this day - would join the royal palace in the Water Kingdom - his own kingdom - as a tutor for a princess, so he would not only teach her magic alongside her other tutor but also teach her how to fight since he seemed to be particularly good at that. Serim from the Earth Kingdom would help rebuild a a few towns of the kingdom that had been destroyed by a fire, and afterwards, he would continue helping out in development projects - both with magic and both with his leadership skills -, while Yeoreum had become interested in magical medicine, so she would train to become a magical healer in the Earth Kingdom.

And you, you decided to stay here to train as a professor. Not only because you had been prompted by Jiwoong who had also stayed at the school a year prior after his graduation, but also because you had grown fond of this building, more of a home to you than your own home in the Fire Kingdom. This way, you wouldn’t even have to see your parents more than it would be necessary, and as sad as it sounded, you felt more at home without them than with them.

Your choices after graduation were announced when you were called to take your certificate from your professors, and a member of the royal family, the senate or a future tutor - depending on your choice - also handed you a paper with your offer as a symbolic gesture. You took it from Jiwoong, for instance, while Yeonjun took his from Prince Hendery since he would be joining his kingdom.

It had been more than a year since you had last seen the prince, and despite the bitter ending of your last conversation, you only felt uncomfortable by his presence because others were around, including your parents, and you would hate to appear anything less than perfect in front of them.

However, everything became a bit too much after a while - all the colours, all the noises, all the fake smiles -, so you excused yourself, taking your bouquet of flowers (gifted by your parents), your certificate and your offer to your room, the one that you would be leaving a day later, only to get a different one in the professors’ ward a week later. You put everything down with a sigh, and turned on your heel to go back to the hall, only to change your mind at the top of the stairs.

You did a full 180, and headed upstairs instead. The walk up to the rooftop tower was more than familiar by now, and you welcomed the same kind of reassurance as you always did here when you stepped above the threshold. Taking in a few deep breaths, you let your eyes linger on the different buildings of the school, content with your choice of staying here. Two years ago, you had been determined to get into the school, and now, you deliberately made the choice to stay here. Who would have thought?

“I had a feeling that you would be up here,” said an all too familiar voice as you were deep in thought. You would have lied if you hadn’t thought about turning back at the sound of him coming onto the rooftop, but you decided otherwise.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you shrugged casually, hoping that the light breeze of this summer night would carry your lies as smoothly as the petals from the nearby tree.

There were a few seconds of silence that stretched between you two while Hendery walked up to you and halted beside you. You kept your eyes on the horizon, on the way the tall gates of the school kept out all the hustle-bustle of the Circle, the circle-shaped governmental capital of the Four Kingdoms where the senate also resided, on the way the sky and the far-away sea became one and the same in the distance, on the way light and the dark existed beside each other.

Everything co-existed peacefully beside each other, and yet, it never felt more wrong to stand beside Prince Hendery than now.

“Congratulations on your graduation! I hope you will enjoy teaching the future generations of wizards here,” the young prince broke the silence, and his voice was cheery. As if he had no care in the world.

“Thank you,” you bobbed your head as you turned towards him, letting your eyes focus on him this time, on the deep shade of blue of his uniform, on the way the belt around his cotton pants highlighted his slender build, on the way his hair seemed sparkling under the light of the torches nearby, on the genuine care in his eyes.

Truth is, you had missed him, but you told yourself that you would miss him even more if you had more to remember about him. As if that one month with him hadn’t been enough, now you would have more memories to torture yourself with. However, you decided to give him one chance, just one more chance to explain himself before you would go back inside your walls, in the lonely yet safe home they had created for you.

“But it could have been both of us, you know. Graduating together and such,” you pointed out honestly. The prince’s features hardened hearing your words, but you didn’t want to back away now. Not anymore. “Won’t you tell me why you actually surrendered at the last minute?”

“Does it matter anymore?”

“It does!” You exclaimed, your frustration lashing out on him. You didn’t even want to keep the hurt from your voice, you had to know it, you had to know it now or else, when else might you have the chance for it? “You don’t know how many times it crossed my mind that you might have pitied me, you might have wanted me to pass because I’m just a charity case for you-”

“A charity case? No, god, no,” Hendery cut you off immediately, shaking his head fervently. You had never seen him so confused before, alas, you had only been spending a month together. However, back then, each and every day together had felt like an eternity - for better or for worse -, and it hurt to realise now that it had been only a month, and yet… how much you had let yourself fall for him, how much you had let him in…

“I… I thought you had a feeling why,” he started cautiously, but when you just rolled your eyes at his cryptic words, he continued. “One of the judges in the final round had been tutoring me and my siblings at the palace before. I had a feeling that he would convince the other judges to let only me pass if I didn’t surrender. I didn’t want to take your chance or risk taking it. Besides, I wanted you to make it because I didn’t want you to go back home, I didn’t want you to face your parents after being eliminated. After what you told me about them on the rooftop, I couldn’t have just let it happen.”

It felt like the air was punched out of your lungs, your body filled with tremors. Your heart didn’t beat faster, but it beat heavier as if it had a weight to carry between two heartbeats. Now you weren’t dizzy because of the colours around, but because of all the emotions inside of you, of everything that suddenly came over you like an avalanche.

You knew exactly what you had said at the rooftop, but even then, when he had hugged you, you had thought it was out of pity. Because he had felt sorry that he couldn’t have done anything about your father who had punished you physically and emotionally when you had not been as good as he had wanted during practices - sometimes he had not given you dinner, sometimes he had hurt you physically, sometimes he had burned marks into your skin to make you remember, at least for a few days, what you could receive if you didn’t live up to his expectations. He could have done so because your mother had been living in the Circle, not at your house in the Fire Kingdom, because the senate was closer to her this way.

On the other hand, with the weight of the whole contest, of the chance of making it into the Four Kingdoms’ United School of Applied Elemental Magic with only a handful of other wizards, it couldn’t have been just pity. There had been too much at stake.

“I… but why? Why did I matter so much to you?” You asked in disbelief, your voice trembling by the end. He made it really difficult not to cry, but you couldn’t cry. You weren’t that weak.

Hendery smiled a bitter smile, one that you rarely saw on him, so rarely that you could have convinced yourself it didn’t exist, and let out a sigh before he let out a giggle. You furrowed your eyebrows, totally confused, and he sure took his time with the answer.

“I know you will probably say that I’m crazy, but I guess I can’t get any crazier in your eyes than I am now, so I guess I can tell you that I fell for you. It might have been just a month, but if I had ever felt like I loved someone, it would have been then, with you,” he confessed, his words carrying his usual carefree tone, but there was an underlying layer there, a kind of affection you had purposefully wanted to avoid acknowledging.

Even if you had been meaning to say a million different things, nothing came out. You had your answer now, and you couldn’t believe that you had been hating him for his choice when he had truly wanted the best for you all along. Not out of pity or hurt, but because he had loved you. Love… such an unfamiliar concept to you, love in its most selfless, most innocent form, love in smiles, in hugs, in jokes and in making choices for you that would serve you the best… this kind of love, you had never known before.

Or maybe just for a short while, and it was gone now, turned to ash, becoming one with the past.

Hendery might have taken your silence as disapproval because his bitter smile turned into a shadow of itself, a mere reminder of a smile.

“I know we would never work out either way, we’re from two different kingdoms after all, we wouldn’t even manage to see each other much because you know, I live in the palace in the Water Kingdom, and you were here and will continue to be here. But it was worth it for me, making that choice 2 years ago, so you could have this kind of future for yourself, and trust me, I’m the happiest that I could see you graduate today,” he continued talking, and it was so him, to want to fill the silence with his monologues, that with the knowledge of why he had made that choice back then, you found yourself closing the distance and throwing your arms around his frame.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the crook of his neck, the words you couldn’t have brought yourself to tell him all this time, and you felt the moment the boy believed you, the moment he eased into your embrace.

“Anytime,” he answered easily, loudly, proudly, and it hurt for you to realise that you knew, that you knew that he would have done this for you over and over again, anytime he had the chance.

And then, it hurt even more to realise that you knew, that you knew that he was right, and you two would never work out.

Just for this moment though, you let your walls down after those 2 years, and you let him in before you would let him go eventually because he was him and you were you, and your paths might have crossed, but they would not continue together.

4 years after the end of the yearly contest

Everything was blue and red; ocean-blue, cherry red, midnight-blue, wine red, and the list went on and on. There was such a wide array of colours that it was a surprise that everything seemed to blend in well despite the striking difference between the two colours.

You looked around expectantly, feeling uncharacteristically nervous because you had no idea how the day would unfold. Even though you had been to Prince Minhyung and Chaeyoung’s wedding the year before, it was different this time. They had held their wedding in the Air Kingdom, and everything had been pure, innocent, vivid white, the whole nation had been celebrating because it had been out of love. Not to mention that the kingdom had been lucky to welcome such a kind-hearted and determined young lady into the royal family who would be willing to make a change - to provide more chances for magical education for the less privileged, to give equal chances to women in higher-up roles and to promote more collaboration between the four kingdoms.

This time though, it was a princess from your kingdom who would get married to a prince in the Water Kingdom, and even though all that crossed your mind was ‘why, why, why not me?’, you pushed the thoughts away because you were happy, you were truly happy.

“Are you ready to go in?” Jiwoong inquired quietly as he stepped up to you after finishing his conversation with a consul nearby, his eyes gentle and intent on yours. Your features immediately softened, your lips curling upwards. Despite his cold demeanour, he had a heart of gold, and you weren’t surprised that all the girls at the Four Kingdoms’ United School of Applied Elemental Magic were swooning after him.

“Sure, let’s go!” You bobbed your head, and when he held out his arm, you linked yours with his as you stepped into one of the halls of the palace. You had never been to the Water Kingdom’s palace before, you had no reason to, but it was magnificent in its own way, and it felt like being underwater, surrounded by crystal clear water, away from the brightness of the outside world. As the sun shone through the giant glass windows, it really felt like it broke through the surface of water, dim and faraway, like a dream, like something out of reach.

When you stepped into the finely decorated hall, there were even more people, and rounds of polite greetings and introductions were obligatory. All kinds of wizards were here from the four kingdoms, and you caught sight of a few of your old classmates, including Prince Minhyung and now Princess Chaeyoung who were deep in talks with someone important-looking, so you waved in their direction before taking your designated seats with Jiwoong.

He didn’t let go of your arm even after you sat down, and when the ceremony started, he squeezed your hand gently, glancing sideways to see if you were doing okay. You turned your head to look at him, and when your gazes linked, you mouthed to him:

“I’m fine,” you reassured him when Prince Hendery and Princess Ahyun from the Fire Kingdom walked in. Theirs would be the first cross kingdom wedding of the decade because mostly wizards from the same kingdom - like Prince Minhyung and Chaeyoung - and royalty from the same kingdom - like Prince Kun and Princess Sujeong from the Earth Kingdom - tied the knot as it was the norm, but the Fire and Water Kingdom had a pretty intense trade argument last year that they wanted to cover up with this wedding.

As much as you would have liked to hate how this turned out for the prince - having to marry for his country, rather than for his feelings -, his smile seemed genuine, really genuine, and Princess Ahyun was a fierce yet just princess, so you couldn’t look at them with hurt or fury or disgust. You were just there, watching the events unfold, and when it was time to congratulate the couple, you didn’t shy away from it.

“Thank you for coming! I wasn’t sure how busy you would be beside your duties at the school, so I’m really glad you guys are here,” Prince Hendery beamed with his trademark wide smile when it was your turn to walk up to them. His smile didn’t falter when he caught sight of your hand in Jiwoong’s hand even though you hadn’t met him since your graduation, so you had not told him about Jiwoong. Maybe Prince Minhyung had told him, or maybe he had just heard about it somewhere when he had come by the school, and you hadn’t crossed paths.

“Of course, we came,” you replied honestly, and you were so genuine, it almost hurt because you looked at him, and he was so different yet so similar to the boy you had met 4 years ago, and the one you had last seen 2 years ago. Maybe he was even taller, he was definitely broader and stronger, but there was still that mischievous glint in his eyes and his smile, oh, his smile was the same!

It made you wonder what would have happened if you had been born as a princess, not as someone outside a royal family, if you had met under different circumstances, or if you had just been in a different universe, not having to worry about titles and contests and magical powers. Despite the time spent apart, despite the distance between you two, you had never stopped wondering about the what ifs; you had merely let them pass by reality like the scenery surrounding a building or the negative thoughts you had learned to silence beside Jiwoong.

“Congratulations on your marriage!” Jiwoong’s deep voice brought you back to reality as he held out your gift to the newlyweds, and the princess took it with a polite smile, thanking you for visiting. However, you didn’t have much time to yourselves because you were ushered to move on, but when you locked eyes with Hendery, his lips pulled into an even wider smile, you had a feeling that he was feeling the same way: bittersweet, grateful, but most of all: at ease.

You would forever be grateful for him because he had shown you that you could be loved, genuinely loved, and it was why you had been willing to let Jiwoong in when the time had come. Hendery made you believe that you could be loved, but it was Jiwoong who made you believe that you could love someone else with all your heart. Hendery might have wanted the best for you, but no one would understand you as much as Jiwoong - someone who came from the same kingdom, had the same powers and had a similar childhood. Hendery made you see who you really were under the surface, but Jiwoong helped you become a better person, a more authentic version of yourself.

The past and the present, your first and current love, the old version of you and your current you collided in that moment, and as Jiwoong guided you through the crowd, you let it go, you let it get lost in the sea of time, in all the reds and blues of the night.

A/N: Thank you for reading my story until the end! I hope you enjoyed this story of mine. Let me know what you think.

@dat-town this is for your information, but when I told you, this reminded me of something we've seen together after wrapping it up, I meant 'my precious' because their love story seemed cute and fun in 'enchanted', but it turned angstier when the boy made a decision that the girl didn't appreciate just like in the movie. Plus, I would bet all my money that you knew who was THE cameo when you saw Jiwoong's name haha. Also, the possible other spin-off that came to my mind when I wrote this was the wizard tutor!Yeonjun x princess one, and I purposefully didn't write anything about them in the last scene because who knows whether I actually end up writing it, and if I do write it, what kind of love story they might have hihi

Either way, I genuinely hope you enjoyed it all, love you again and again ❤️

P.S.: title is taken from 'Horizon' by WayV

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for NCT or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct x you #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv x reader #wayv x you #hendery imagines #hendery x reader #hendery scenarios #hendery x you #nct angst #wayv angst #hendery angst

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jamiedc-they-them · 2 years ago

Text

Being Joel's Surviving Child and an Older Sibling to Ellie Part II

Link to Part I

CW: Normal last of us violence, swearing. Mentions of suicidal thoughts. Bunch of angst. Also, a long one!

So, five years. A lot of can happen in five years.

You’ve almost, almost, gone back to how you used to be. Normal. A citizen rather than a survivor.

You’re more relaxed.

It’s not constant, twenty years of surviving isn’t something you just forget and move on from in an instant.

Your family understands that.

Tommy takes you out on hunts sometimes. It’s a good bonding experience with your uncle.

He has your help with organising patrols. These are the main times you see Ellie. Other than teaching her how to shoot.

It’s nice seeing your sister, though she is more distant.

You just put it up to age. She’s growing and changing, becoming more independent, so she distances herself more because of that.

You and Sarah had sort of done that before…everything.

In a way, you’re envious.

Still though, you just keep going on.

You help out with the town.

Joel checks in every so often. But after a certain period, you can’t quite remember how long into those five years it is, he does it almost all the time.

He acts differently. Softer.

“Something wrong?” you ask.

“I’m alright, kiddo. Just…feeling my age is all. Do you, uh, do you wanna come over later? Found that sequel. Curtis and Viper 2. ”

“No way?! Hell yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Alright, kiddo. Sounds like a plan.”

You notice Ellie’s absence. You don’t question it, though. Her and Dina have been talking lately. From the brief interaction you had with the girl, she was sweet. She was kind to Ellie, as was Jessie. You liked that they had a little group.

When you next see Ellie before a patrol, you talk to her.

“Didn’t see you at Dad’s last night.”

She turns to you, but you can tell she’s more tense now, “Oh, shit. Yeah, sorry. I was out with Dina and Jessie,” she does sound genuinely apologetic. You miss the mistrust in her eyes. It flickers only for as second, but you still miss it.

“It’s cool,” you say, waving it off, “just be careful, yeah?”

“Always am,” she assures, putting her pack on her horse and mounting up, letting you take them outside the stables, “besides, with your training, how could I go wrong?”

“Exactly,” she chuckles at your response, “Just…talk to each other, yeah? Whatever it is.”

She sighs. She wishes it was that simple, but she tells you she will.

She loves you, but doesn’t like you meddling sometimes. Joel too.

Sometimes, you’ll take her on a run. Or one of her friends.

It’s through this, you get the idea that someone has a crush. Dina asks you things about Ellie; favourite food and what not.

You don’t always have the answers, but you do have an idea of what is going on.

You don’t pressure Dina or her on it. Though you do ask one about the other every now and then to try to gauge it and push them to admit their feelings.

You were never into the whole love thing, so this is not your field. But they are adorable, the pair. Jessie is a good friend. Loyal. He opens up a bit more to you. He’s funny, too. Casual. Good person.

Brings out your lighter side.

Seth isn’t an awful guy, but is a homophobe.

Ellie seems to have a six sense with you, despite the distance she’s caused, and always finds you before anything bad happens.

Her own blood boils when he calls you a “queer” in an insulting way. But she always drags you back, keeping herself between you and him. Her eyes on you as she forces you not to make a scene.

This happens with a few other troubling people in the town.

She also gives you a place to crash when you want to, or are drunk. You do that a bit. Trying to tame the loudness in your head.

It worries her, but she’s gentle. If you ever wake up from a nightmare and are around her’s, she wakes you up.

“It’s ok, Y/N. It’s ok. It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m here,” she puts a hand to your cheek, “I’ve got you.”

Sometimes she’ll stay with you. Sometimes you both stay up together. Sometimes she sits with you until you drift off, looking at your gentle form, before going to bed, wishing she could stop whatever is plaguing you.

You’re her sibling, older sure, but she loves you.

Sadly, she never gets a chance to ask you, as she soon is plagued by similar nightmares.

A golf club kills your father, and she had no choice but to watch.

Dina arrives before you, Jessie being the one who fetched you when Joel didn’t come back.

Dina gets Ellie up and out, but Jessie sees you frozen, just staring at your father. Or what’s left of him.

He sees your fist start leaking blood. You don’t notice. Your eyes are glassy, but no tears fall.

You’ve shut down.

You don’t even register him leading you away. Mentally, you’re still there.

Maria visits you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, sitting next to you on your bed, “C’mere.”

She tries to hug you, but you lean away.

You stand up, arms crossed, facing away from her.

“What’s that?” she prompts, not hearing what you said just then.

“It should’ve been me,” you say, a bit louder.

“Y/N. No. No, it, no it shouldn’t of been.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know…”

“He’s dead…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

She goes to hug you, or try and help, but you scream, back away, and then run from your room and out of your house, tears be damned.

Dina hears you sprinting, just seeing you as you trip over trying to get into the cemetery.

“Shit,” she says, going to help you up, “hey, Y/N. Hey!” she’s gentle, but you flinch at her loudness, “Look at me,” you do, eyes frantic. She hates her friend in pain like this, “I have you. I -”

“I need him,” her heart breaks. You sound like a scared child - she doesn’t blame you, this is a horrible situation - and not the late thirties person that you are.

You sob, putting your head in your hands as you just break completely.

You then fall back in the snow.

“Sarah would’ve been able to control herself. She would’ve stopped this.”

“Y/N,” Dina crouches near you, ignoring the cold, “you aren’t expected to just control this. There’s no precedent for this.”

“Sarah was. Henry and Sam were. Tess was.”

“They weren’t your fault.”

“Then whose were they?”

She doesn’t have time to answer you, as Ellie clears her throat.

Ellie moves to you, her too crouching down, “I’m so sorry,” she says, voice raw, “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Despite what Dina just tried to get you to understand for yourself, you impart it to Ellie, “It’s not your fault, El. It’s not your fault.”

Dina hates what this has done to you both. Broken you both. Her girlfriend and friend who looked out for her.

You both go to Joel’s house, and she waits outside for you both.

“Can…can you…” Ellie can’t finish her words.

Wordlessly, you nod, opening the door and going inside.

You’re both slow, looking around.

You even find the copy of Curtis and Viper 2, you let out a choked laugh at it.

Ellie takes the revolver, but hands you the watch.

“I think…I think he’d want you to have this.”

You take it, and put it on your arm. It fits you just as well as it fit him.

You look at your little sister. He’s gone, so you have to step up.

You go where she goes. That’s your job: you protect, you guide, you support.

Maria isn’t happy with Tommy going, and tells you guys to go get him.

Before you leave, Maria stops you.

“Please make sure you come back too, Y/N, ok?”

You nod, “you can count on it.”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been more scared of you. The flicker in your eye. The crazed look of someone on the edge of breaking completely, and with one more promise on the line.

It’s the look of someone who will do all they can for that promise. No matter the cost.

As said before, she’d heard the stories of what you and Joel did to survive, how you were so young and lost your soul in the name of survival and control.

The last five years had seen you return to normal.

That had now been taken.

So, off you go to Seattle.

You tell them all the memories of this place you can remember. From small trips and what not. Dina paints a picture of Sarah in her mind as you describe your actions with your twin.

Randomly, small facts come back to you about the place. They’re always impressed by your vast knowledge (you doubt a lot of it is true, but there are one or two you know are facts).

Then you’re brought back to how the world is with them asking you how old you were in your first kill.

The age gap between you and them is shown, as you try to water it down. You tell yourself it’s to protect them, but really it’s just to protect yourself.

“We’re old enough to know, Y/N,” your sister says, “or are you forgetting about David?”

The words sting. Ellie regrets them. You just ride on ahead.

“Who’s David?” Dina asks.

“An arsehole. He’s dead now.”

“Did he do something to you?”

“Tried to. But he also made he break a promise I made to Y/N.”

“And what’s that?”

“Doesn’t matter now.”

Dina nods, respecting the boundary. It makes her miss her sister more, having inside secrets that friends wouldn’t know.

When it comes to climbing, Ellie goes, joking about your age and your back. It brings her back to simpler times.

“Did I do something to make her upset?” you ask Dina as you wait for Ellie to open the gate.

“Oh. No, I don’t think so. She didn’t say anything to me about something like that. Why?”

“Just…I don’t know.”

“You’re not gonna lose her, Y/N,” she assures.

“I thought I wouldn’t lose my dad, either,” it’s a cheap shot, and she knows it’s not being fired at her, but she still flinches at it, “sorry,” you say.

She nods, “it’s ok,” though there is hurt in her voice.

Ellie shows you the map, handing it to you every now and then to double check where you’ve been and haven’t been. Sure, things are marked on and off, but she doubts herself a bit.

Dina moves past the awkwardness between you both, listening as you and Ellie swap stories about Joel.

Dina is happy to hear them, at least you both aren’t completely drowning, you’re keeping each other afloat, and she’s glad to be of assistance in that.

Dina opens up to you both about being Jewish. You always liked the idea of a god, but never believed yourself. Especially not after the apocalypse, but the hope it gave her was something you understood.

Ellie was that hope for you. If she was alive, and happy, you were happy.

If what was left of your family was ok, you were ok.

That was why you had to make this right. Make it mean something.

When it comes to combat, you take the lead. Giving them orders. It makes it seem more controllable that way.

Most times, it goes wrong, with you having to adapt, but the feeling it gives you before that keeps you going.

Ellie and you are a deadly duo, Dina notes. Able to read each other’s minds and actions. You seem to forget Dina is there for a moment, your soul focus being on your sister.

One time, with you all being pinned down, you shot someone who was going to sneak up on Ellie, only for Dina to take a hit.

You helped patch up her wound, but avoided her eyes.

She doesn’t want to hold it against you. You’re her friend, and Ellie’s sibling. You’ve been good to her on runs. You were honest with her about things. While she knows she’d be like this had her sister still be alive, but it does scare her what it can do.

Yes, she’s following you because she cares about you both, but she’s also scared for you both. What you’ll do. How you’ll do it. What you’ll lose in the process.

Ellie is taken, and you don’t talk the entire way to rescue her. Dina follows, and sees how good at tracking you actually are.

Dina is shot through the roof, and one bullet catches you. You lay on the roof.

Ellie shouts up to you, telling you to “find another way to get this fuckers!”

You hesitate, and she seems to tell, “Go!” She yells, “trust me!”

You do, but you can’t find another way in. Your heart hammers, hearing only the chaos inside.

They’re out of your sight. What if they get hurt? What if they die? You lose more of your family?

You reunite outside, and you check them numerous times for injuries.

“We’re fine. We’re fine, Y/N. Look, look! No wounds,” she shows you. You just pull them both in for a hug.

Ellie remembers Joel doing that at the hospital…though she doesn’t push away this time, not wanting to raise suspicion or confront you on it just yet. She doesn’t want to lose you too.

You find more images, and one of the people from the photos is dead.

Dina looks to you, “What the fuck have we gotten involved in?”

“I don’t know,” you say, honestly, “but we just need Abby.”

“Y/N, this is insane. What if they already got her?”

“They wouldn’t have,” Ellie says.

“How do you know?” Dina challenges.

“Gut feeling.”

Dina looks to you.

“Let’s go,” is all you say.

Ellie’s secret comes out about the immunity, and you all barely escape with your lives intact and make it to the theatre.

Dina reveals she may be pregnant and Ellie snaps. You don’t follow her, instead, you sit with Dina.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she says.

“I get it,” you say, “it’s scary. Especially in a world like this.”

“Do you think it would be ok? Even after all this?”

“It will.”

“You can’t promise that Y/N,” she hopes you’re right, but is being more real about it.

“I can. I can,” you say, nodding, but you look away right after.

She nods once, before laying down.

You find yourself falling asleep on the floor. You dream about Sarah.

Ellie remembers the birthday gift you and Joel gave her. That was a good day. A day of your bonds being the strongest.

You have a memory of a time when she fixed something, some dickhead bully. He never bothered you again.

You wish that either she was here instead of you, or you could do what she could.

Ellie wakes you up, nervously asking if you can come with her.

“We’ll make sure Dina is safe. I just…can we go together, Y/N? Please?”

You nod, leaving with her. Dina just asks you both to be careful.

It’s quiet, at the start as you both set off on your journey to find Tommy.

“Did I do something?” You ask as you search a store.

“What?”

“Did I do something?”

“No,” she says, not completely lying.

“Is there a reason you and dad weren’t talking as much? Was it the party?”

“Mostly.”

“‘Mostly’?”

“It’s complicated,” it both is and isn’t true.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

She wants to more than anything, but that would be - potentially - driving away the one piece of this family she has left that has been with her through so much.

“I will, ok? Just, give me time?”

You want to press her on it, it sounds bad. Especially if it drove your sister and father apart. But, to keep her happy enough, you find yourself saying the one thing that can do that:

“Ok.”

Ellie and you find the archery statue. She holds it up and turns to you.

“People cared about this stuff?”

“Sure, sometimes.”

“You think this thing was worth a lot?”

You chuckle, “not money-wise, no. Thing was probably cheap as anything. But, sentimentally? Yeah, definitely.”

“Why’s that?”

“Made people feel valued. Wanted. Like they actually accomplished something.”

“This little thing did that?”

“A lot of things can do that.”

She nods, but can understand what you really mean. It’s why you’re here after all.

It makes her feel valued. Less alone.

She does have to admit, seeing you not drowning or shutting down in your grief as you had before was a genuine relief to her.

But, she does know you. She’s known you for like six years at this point.

She can see it’s getting to you.

You look at the blood on your knuckles more. You check in with her more. Making sure she is ok.

She tries to with you, but you just turn it around on her.

With Jessie, you drive. She rides shotgun, and Jessie sits in the middle. You almost die, but you’re just thankful Ellie learnt how to swim.

Dina and Jessie reunite. You see Ellie walk off, you watch the friends and exes reunite.

“Look, Jessie, I -“

“It’s cool, Y/N. Really. I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?” You did sort of go into this whole thing thinking he would. Though, maybe that was just because of the shows Sarah made you watch when younger.

He chuckles, “Yeah, all good. I mean, it’s a lot. But, Dina and Ellie are my friends. I want them to be happy. Their problems, are my problems.”

“That’s a sweet way to live, kid.”

“You’re my friend too, you know.”

“I’m older.”

“So?”

“I take on more problems for everyone. It’s my job.”

“That’s not healthy,” where’d he read that?

“We ain’t in a healthy world.”

Ellie has a mostly good memory of you, the strings incident. Well, good with you anyway, though at that point you had started to catch onto something being wrong. Still, you like that your dad is trying now with the comics. He and you had even had some discussions.

With the Bloater, you just held Ellie in your arms as Joel took it down.

With the couple and the lie you’ve both spun to her, you’re silent while Joel doubles down on it. She’s catching on, and you don’t like that.

Reminders of the lie you told her about being there.

Whenever you remember a birthday, you ignore that bit. You just remember the dinosaur.

With the strings, you focus on the bloater part and the comics.

With the sewers, it’s you who goes out the window. She doesn’t even think before jumping in to try to find you.

You drag her out of the water.

“What were you thinking?!”

“Me?! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“I had to protect you, El!”

“You scared me! I thought you were dead, you arsehole!”

She hits you in the shoulder, and then you both take pause.

You’re both disturbed by the Seraphites.

“You think we should have a code like that?” She asks you as you make your way through a building.

“Would be useful,” you admit, “maybe you learning to whistle weren’t for nothing.”

She gives a humoured scoff. But she’s glad you can still have these moments.

She’s glad she hasn’t lost you. She just hates that internally she adds a ‘yet’ to that.

Before the camp, however, she turns to you, “I need to do this on my own.”

“What?”

“Look, there could to spores in there. And I don’t want you getting infected.”

“The fuck are you talking about, Ellie? We stick together.”

“Do you trust me?”

It seems like you hesitate, but really she sees you weighing up the options in your head.

You nod.

“Hey,” she grabs your hand with hers, “I’m coming back, ok? With that bitches head. I promise,” she squeezes your hand.

You look one more time to the camp, then back to your sister.

“I don’t like this.”

“I’ve got this,” she says. Your eyes soften at her echoing words.

You nod a tiny bit. You know she does.

You make your way back to the theatre.

“Y/N…” Dina says when she sees you, “Oh. Oh, god, is Ellie…”

“No,” you say, instantly, “No. She’s fine. Just thought she should go alone. Spores and whatnot. Don’t exactly have my mask.”

“You sure it’s a good idea to leave her on her own?” Jessie asks. He means well, but he is also their age.

“She’s got this,” you assure her friends, “she’s tougher than you think.”

“I know that,” he says, “it’s just…with her state of mind.”

“I’m worried about her too. But, I’d be no use to her dead.”

“To any of us, Y/N,” you smile a little at Dina’s words.

“So, what do we do?” Jessie asks.

“We wait for her to come back. I’ll, uh, give you two some space to talk about the whole…kid, thing.” You clear your throat, doing that.

Ellie returns when you’re asleep. Jessie wakes you up.

“Where is she?”

“With Dina,” you get up, and Jessie knows what your plan is, “I think we should just leave them for tonight. Dina’s got her.”

“I could help.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” despite the almost twenty year gap between you both, he seems to be the more mature one at times, “but you don’t need to smother her.”

Your eyes look dangerous when you look at him, “I ain’t.”

“I’d follow you, Joel, Ellie, or Dina anywhere, Y/N. But, Y/N, there’s gotta be a line where you walk away.”

“Not with her. Not with this.”

“I know Joel was a good man; he was a good father to you both. But, look, Dina’s pregnant. We aren’t exactly going to find her help out here, are we? And I know, you wanna help Ellie; but…she’ll listen to you.”

You go to check on your sister, she shivers, her wounds making you sick.

You sit next to her, and move the cover she has over her a bit more. She flinches a bit. You mule over Jessie’s words.

You go with them, giving Dina a bottle of water, and leaving too.

However, you then see how high the water is out there. And you see Ellie’s plan to steal the boat.

Jessie starts to back away. Ellie then looks to you

“Not you too,” she says. Damn it, she knows you too well.

“El -”

“Don’t do that. Please don’t fucking do that.”

“I just think –”

“I didn’t think you’d leave me too.

“I’m not –”

Guys,” Jessie tries to interject, noticing your voices going up a notch in volume. You hold your hand up to silence him, then gesture with your hand to lower the volume. Even in her pissed off state, she agrees to that.

“I thought you’d have my back on this,” she says, quieter.

“I have your back. Really, I do. But I’m gonna have to pull rank on this and –”

“‘Rank’?”

“I’m the older sibling. I have to look out for you.”

“Then do that by coming with me on that fucking boat. If we fall in, we can both make it back to the boat. I need you to trust me.”

“And I need you to listen to me.”

“They killed, Joel. What if it was me?”

“That’s not fair.”

“If it was you, you would want us to try, at least.”

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” you take a breath, “we should just go home. Ok?”

“You go, then. I’ll see you there later,” you open your mouth to argue, but she beats you to it, “fuck off then, coward.”

The words sting. You want to say more, to try and get her to see the way things are going. But you realise, maybe too late, that you can’t stop her. You can’t control her.

Jessie says what is on your mind:

“I really hope you make it.”

He respects your silence on the way back to the theatre.

You don’t explain to Dina, you just go to your own little space.

“Are they ok?” Dina asks Jessie.

“Ellie and them had a fight.”

“Oh…” she says, looking to the stairs, “should we go check on them?”

“No. No, I think they need some time alone, you know? I don’t think they’ve really had time to unpack everything.”

“None of us have,” it had only been a few days after all.

“That’s true. But, he was Y/N’s dad.”

“You know, at first, I thought Y/N was Ellie’s dad.”

“Yeah?” Dina chuckles a bit.

“Yeah. I mean, you seen how protective they both are…were, over her?”

“Y/N still is.”

“Yeah…” Jessie looks to the stairs too, “that’s what scares me.”

Jessie leaves on a quick patrol of the area and finds Tommy. He brings him back.

You come down and see your Uncle in the first time in what seems like forever.

“Hey, kid,” he says to you.

He doesn’t get a warm welcome, instead, he gets shoved. Then slapped.

“You left, your goddamn wife! She’s worried sick about you, Tommy!”

“I know, I know,” he says, but you don’t stop there.

“You could’ve died, and we wouldn’t of known. You fucking idiot!”

The younger two have never heard you so loud. Not even when fighting Seth.

“I KNOW!” Tommy roars, “They killed my brother! I had to try, Y/N! I had to do something.”

“And how’d that fucking go?” you sneer.

“I saw her,” he says, “I saw the bitch that killed her.”

“Yeah? Where’s her head?”

Tommy looks almost ashamed, looking at the ground as he answers you, “she had a kid with her. They beat me. Almost drowned.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t. I’m glad you didn’t, Uncle Tommy.”

He nods, “Me too, kid.”

It’s then, you hug him.

Time goes on a bit longer before Tommy and him decide to leave to find Ellie. They hear on the radio about the Aquarium.

Dina is the one who asks you to stay, “please. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.”

You tell the other two to go and stay with Dina.

You keep her drinking water. Try and keep her as well as you can.

She falls asleep, and you try your best to get her to bed ok, though she does stir awake at one point. But, only slightly, she falls back to sleep pretty easily. You get her in bed, trying to get her comfortable.

You don’t exactly envy her situation, especially given how hard it would’ve been in the old world. This new one just added more challenges.

Still, you wanted to help. Just how was the question?

You hear the door close and cautiously see who it is.

It’s your friends.

You see Ellie, eyes distant and scared.

“Hey. Hey, what happened?” you ask, moving on from the words exchanged earlier.

You look to Tommy, he shakes his head: not now.

“Do you wanna go see Dina?” she nods, “Ok, kiddo. Ok. I’ll take you to her.”

You’re slow with your movements, moving at her pace.

When she sees Dina, she is less tense. You let her go, and she goes to Dina, laying down next to her and moving some hair back.

You close the door gently, before going downstairs.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?”

“One of the girls she killed,” Tommy pauses, puts his head in his hands, and pushes his hair back, “she was pregnant, Y/N.”

“Jesus,” is all you can say as you sit on the stage.

“Yeah,” is all Tommy can say as he sits next to you. He then looks around the theatre.

“You remember when you and Sarah came here?”

You smile a bit, “yeah. Or, well, somewhere like here.”

“Nope. Pretty sure it was here,” you have no idea if he’s fucking with you or not.

You narrow your eyes at him a bit.

“I’m serious,” he says, “can’t remember what we saw, mind. But, it was right here we saw it.”

“Hm. Quite the legacy,” you admire.

“Ain’t it just.”

A quiet few moments go by.

“I think we should go home,” you say.

Tommy nods, “Yeah. Though, not exactly looking forward to Maria kicking my arse.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t gonna be able to help with that.”

“Maybe I’ll use you as a shield.”

“As if she’d let you,” you say, “She loves me.”

“I’d like to think she loves me more.”

“Uh-uh, told me herself.”

“Did she now?”

“Oh yeah.”

It’s nice, this moment of normalcy.

“Go get some rest kid, we got a long trip tomorrow.”

“Guess you’re right,” you say, standing up and stretching, “night, Uncle Tommy.”

“Night, kid.”

You don’t sleep too long. Your instincts tell you something is going on.

You go to the main lobby and see Tommy on the floor, an arrow in his leg.

“Hands up,” you say, pointing your pistol at…shit, it’s Abby. And the kid Tommy mentioned.

“Y/N, run!” Tommy calls out.

“I ain’t leaving you,” you say to him, keeping your eyes on your father’s murderer.

“It’s you,” Abby says in realisation, “you’re the one who Marlene took as bait for…for him.”

“You took him from me,” you spit.

“And yours took mine. Now you know how it feels.”

“We just gonna stare at each other?”

“Not if you move. You’re not on my list. The girl is who I want.”

“So you can run more tests? There ain’t no cure.”

“No. No, the cure is long dead. On that, we can agree.”

“I’m not letting you get my sister.”

She steps a bit closer, gun aimed up a bit, “Then I’ll take you both. I don’t care.”

You look to the boy, “You found the one good Seraphite?”

“Just as quick as the rest.”

“Ok then,” you say, putting your gun down, hands raised, “then take me.”

“NO!” Tommy shouts, getting a kick in the gut.

“Maybe I would’ve,” she admits, “but not anymore. You’ve both taken too much from me. All you had to do, was stop. To get her to stop.”

You go to say something, but the door bursts open.

A few gunshots go off. You ignore the burning sensation on your body, and instead, try and deal with the one at your throat, the arm Abby has around it crushing your available air.

“Come on out! Or this one’s next!” Abby calls out.

“Ok. Fuck!” Ellie throws her gun away, standing up, hands raised, “you did this because of me, right? Because they both saved me? It’s me, I’m the one you want. Just let them go, ok?”

Abby presses the gun into your head, “we let you live,” she says to Ellie.

“I’ll let you live,” Abby says to you, “but I swear, if I see you again, I will kill you.”

Your world then goes dark. But you hear your sister yell out your name.

You wake up to silence.

Your vision goes double. You vomit on the floor.

Once on your feet, you slowly make your way down the theatre. You wished for music. You wished for something. Some sound to signal life.

You get backstage, and see a hole in the floor. You don’t even think before dropping down it. It doesn’t help your vision or unsteady legs. Shaking your head and getting to your feet once again, you’re greeted with your sister, coughing blood on the floor, and Dina bleeding from her head, unconscious.

You go to your younger sister, fall down and hover over her. She just coughs more.

You don’t know what to do. You just put her head in your lap, running your hand through her hair.

If this is it, then so be it.

You go to sleep, not expecting to wake up again.

You do, and Ellie is quietly saying your name.

You look down, an unknown amount of time having passed.

“Are….are you…?”

“Here. Present. Alive.” you say.

“Dina…” You look to your friend. Gently putting Ellie back down, you turn Dina over. The baby bump looks ok. You get some cloth and put it on her head.

“I think the baby’s ok.”

Ellie lets out another cough, this seems to be her attempt at a sigh of relief.

How you get out, you can’t remember. But you do.

Ellie leaves Jackson. But you’ve already gone before then.

You can’t deal with all the looks from everyone. And what you gather to be a disappointed look from Maria when you bring Tommy in.

You aren’t far from it, instead just living in the woods.

You go to the same part of the water you went to clean yourself in after Henry and Sam died. You don’t really care you’re stealing the Jackson community water technically, you just use it.

You figure this will all help clear your head. It’s neutral.

Maria comes to visit you, bringing some extra supplies. You just thank her.

She updates you on Tommy. Even tells you they split.

You just give her your condolences and go back to your little hobbit existence. Just you and a tent.

The final time Maria visits you, it’s to ask for you to go with Tommy. He wants to visit Ellie.

“I think she could use your company, too.”

Maria is still family; as is Tommy; as is Ellie.

You have to pick up the load now that Maria shares.

“Ok,” you say, voice croaky from a few months of disuse.

“Thank you,” she says. You nod.

She smiles a bit, happy that you’re somewhat in good standing with each other.

Tommy tries to make conversation with you, but you ignore him the whole ride down.

You help him off his horse and send him up the stairs first to the door.

You take in the place. It’s got a nice view. They’ve done well for themselves.

Dina greets you warmly.

“Hey, Y/N,” she says, giving you a hug.

“Hey, hon,” you say, hugging her back.

She takes a look at you, looking at your face and moving it around with her hands, “you had it rough, huh?” her voice is soft, unjudging.

“Sort of?” you say, unsure of how else to answer.

“Well, sit down. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

Then Ellie comes in, with a baby.

She pauses at seeing you both, but a whole flood of emotions comes to her when she locks eyes with you.

“Hey,” is all she can get out.

“Hey,” you say.

It’s all going ok. Then Abby is mentioned again, and the mood turns sour.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” you say, hand going down your face.

“Now, don’t you fucking start –” Tommy starts to say.

“We ain’t doing this, Tom. You said you wanted to talk to her.”

“I am,” he protests, though does note your lack of ‘Uncle’ being used, “that’s all we doing.”

“Is it hell,” you say, trying to not teach the kid bad words this early. Like your dad did with you and Sarah.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk, huh?” Tommy challenges.

“We ain’t doing this here. Especially not in front of the kid,” you say, pointing to JJ. He grabs you finger, cooing as he moves it around. You move a bit closer, hand going through his hair, as your eyes stay on Tommy.

“Can you hold him?” Dina asks. You do. He complains at first, being away from his mother, but settles into you in the next moment. Dina takes Tommy outside.

“You’re a natural,” Ellie says, somewhat brightly. You start to rock from side to side gently as JJ settles even more, head on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Somehow,” you joke. Ellie scoffs humorously.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” she means it.

“Ditto,” as do you.

The silence is awkward, and you see her eyes go to the map.

“Don’t,” you say, “don’t mess this up.” At ‘this’ you swirl your finger around the area.

“Ok,” she says. You look into her eyes that flicker down to the map every so often. You’re looking for signs of bullshit. You find some. You just don’t say anything.

“Ok,” you say.

Tommy leaves, but you stay the night. You get to know your nephew a bit more. He’s lively.

Dina and Ellie both show you around the farm. The sheep are nice. They help calm you down. Even JJ loves petting them.

Dinner is nice. They can both cook. You both even dance a bit. Just minus bigots being there, even better!

Then comes to bed. They show you your bedroom. You thank them and head in.

Early in the morning, you head downstairs, taking the map and putting it in your bag.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks, coming downstairs, Joel's jacket over her shoulders.

“Trying, one last time.”

“To do what?”

“To stop you from this spiral being complete.”

“I’m not spiralling, Y/N. I’m hurting, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

You sigh, sitting down, “You know, back in the old world, they had things called therapists. You ever heard of them?” she shakes her head, “they’d talk to you, try to help you find a way through. I’m sure there are some who would fit that role your age without knowing the turn, or just people my age who became them, but the talking bit I can do.”

“I don’t want to talk. Give me the map.”

“So you can run off and get killed?”

“I won’t get killed.”

“How’s that?”

“You and Joel showed me how to survive.”

“And anyone can get a lucky shot in. I mean, Christ, look at Tommy, a bullet through the head should’ve killed him.”

“But he’s still alive. And so are you. I don’t want anyone else to almost die because of me.” you can hear the slight crack in her voice.

You know you could keep doing this with her. Going in circles. Your own spiral.

But, you’ve drained yourself.

So, you stand up, and take the map out of the bag.

You see Dina peak from around the corner, but you’re quick in your eyes going back to Ellie, who is watching you, eyes glassy, and tense.

You approach her, and put the map into her hand, “I love you, Ellie. Far as I’m concerned, you’re my blood,” you grab her face in your hands, “You always will be, ok? But, if you do this, I won’t be here when you get back.”

Either timeline her brain cooks up as to that meaning scares her.

“Ok,” she says, even as her voice wobbles and tears threaten to fall. She takes the map and goes to her bag. You hear her sniffle from the kitchen.

You turn to Dina, and knock your head to the kitchen. She goes down. You sit on the chair in the living room as they share a goodbye.

Dina then comes back, you hug her. You hear the back door close. Ellie seemingly didn’t want to confront you again.

“What…what happens now?” Dina asks you in hiccups.

You kiss her head, “well, I’m gonna get some supplies from Jackson, and go back to my little home.”

“Can you…can you help me move some things back there, please?”

You hug her a bit tighter, “course, kiddo.”

“Thank you,” she says as you pull apart.

You smile down at her, “you’re family,” is all you say.

The three of you head to Jackson, you help Dina set up in her room.

“Thank you. I mean it. Please visit, that’s all I ask. Don’t do that other way out. Please.”

You sadly smile at her, “I’ll do my best on the last part. I’ll swing by, though. Promise.”

“Ok…ok,” she hugs you again.

“I think you would’ve liked my sister,” she says, voice muffled by her shirt.

“Bet I would’ve,” you agree.

You go back to your tent; luckily, nothing has happened to it.

You go on a hunt and start skinning your deer. You hear a twig snap, and a quiet “shit” from the person you know who broke it.

You continue skinning, then start cooking. Ellie takes a seat on the log.

You look at her, seeing her casual clothing, and that she’s missing two fingers.

You don’t say anything. She watches you, eyes going to the fire every so often, fingers playing with themselves.

Wordlessly, you hold out a small cup of water. She takes it, and drinks from it, before handing it back to you.

It is then replaced with some meat.

She eats, then looks back to the water.

She feels something hit her feet. Looking down, she sees a sleeping back. Looking back up, she sees you trying to do another tent.

She finishes her food, and approaches you, “I’ve got it,” her voice quiet, drained, hurt.

You don’t look at her as you go with your own food.

“Can you help me, please?” she asks. You pause, putting your food back into the bowl, before getting up and helping to finish her tent.

“Thank you,” she says. You nod, before finishing your meal.

You then set up your sound traps.

“Is that like Bill’s?” she asks.

“Yup,” you answer.

“Cool,” she says.

You just nod.

Once they’re done, you retire to bed yourself.

Ellie stays up, just looking at the fire, then down at her fingers that can no longer play the guitar.

She goes into her tent. The bed isn’t too uncomfortable. Yet she’s still restless.

She hears you snore a bit from the tent diagonal from her.

She shuts her eyes. In her mind’s eye is one of you, her, and Joel having a snowball fight. It’s nice. Warm. Fuzzy. Happy.

You have a dream of Sarah. Of one time of you both comforting each other after a sad film, just holding each other and crying. It’s sad but comforting.

The dream changes, Ellie comes and sits next to you, and a new movie starts: Curtis and Viper 2.

You all pull up the shared blanket.

It’s a dream, you know that.

Yet you find comfort in it.

It drowns out what’s actually happened. What’s actually been lost.

The illusion will shatter as soon as you wake, as it always does.

But you hope you can dream a bit longer.

Escape the broken bonds you have to go back to at some point.

The sad existence you live.

The emptiness you feel.

The one your sister has too.

Maybe you can overcome it, one day.

But you both know that day is far away.

And it terrifies you both…

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x platonic!reader #ellie williams x you #last of us imagine #last of us x reader #ellie williams imagine #platonic!reader #platonic reader

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ancientwastedlores · 7 months ago

Text

Getaway Car [T.Swift-inspired LOKI Fic]

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Ask: I am OBSESSED with your stories <3 <3 <3 could you write a Getaway Car themes fic about Loki and reader when it's them against the Avengers for some reasons, they get away together and reader thinks Loki will betray them so they betray him first? All angst and pain (. )(. ) thx <3 <3 <3

Note: HELLO, I know it's v late and been a while. But I heard Taylor's new album, and the need to write awakened. Thought I'd revisit my old requests for some inspo and found this one I've been wanting to do for a while. Hope you like it! And leave me your TTPD requests as well <3

WORD COUNT: 2756

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Getaway Car

I’m in a getaway car I left you at the motel bar Took the money in the bag and stole the keys That was the last time you ever saw me…

Partners in crime. Brothers in arms. That’s how the Avengers saw you and Loki, forever up to some mischief together. The way you both shared one mind was insane, and while Tony was glad it gave you a battle advantage, that brilliance was too often used for useless pranks around the facility, tiring out Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner the most.

So what? They were harmless. These were ‘morale boosting’ and ‘team building’ activities, as per you. If anything, it brought the team closer together. And your pranks were your way of keeping the Avengers always alert and ready for danger. You had endless justifications.

‘When do the excuses end?’ Tony once asked you. ‘When do Earth’s mighty Avengers stop screaming about grasshoppers in their pancakes? It’s a protein-rich breakfast.’

Meanwhile, Loki never scrambled for a justification. He did things because he wanted to, and the chiding and complaining only encouraged him. Together, you made life hell for villains and heroes alike. You and Loki were the first response to an attack because of the way you could significantly weaken the enemy's psyche, prepping them to be an easy kill for the rest of the Avengers.

You made a good team. A powerful one. And while your pranks kept things light, the Avengers were not unaware that if you decided to turn against them, you would succeed in wiping them out.

___________________________________________

You and Loki weren’t the type for meetings, which made things easy for Tony that evening. In the bi-monthly meetup in his grand tower, he brought up a subject he’d been mulling over for quite some time.

‘Do we have any reason to suspect they are plotting something against us?’ Steve asked.

‘We don’t want to assume the wrong thing and risk actually inspiring them.’ Natasha said.

‘You see, there’s the problem!’ Tony barked, ‘Why are we so afraid of them? They’re supposed to be on our side, dependable and loyal. Instead we’re afraid of pissing them off!?’

‘What are you saying exactly, Tony?’ Bruce asked.

Tony sighed frustratedly and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t know. I just never want to be in a situation where we’re compromised from the inside. They’re too close to each other, and they know things we do not. I don’t like that.’

‘Fine. We’ll give them other tasks to keep them occupied separately,’ Natasha suggested.

‘Like it’s school?’ Bruce said.

‘I truly think Y/N was far more focused before Loki came along.’ Tony said. 'She was responsible. Tame.'

‘We’re starting to sound like parents, ’ Natasha said. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing, but if you’re worried, we’ll occupy her in the lab and him in training facilities.’

Tony thought this was a good idea. ___________________________________________

The next morning, at breakfast, all the Avengers received an agenda sheet. It was placed on their seat at the dining table, and you were taken aback.

‘Since when do we have a timetable?’ you asked.

‘Since I saw things slacking around here,’ Tony declared. ‘We’ve got new trainees, new equipment, and new space stuff to unpack, and we’re doing nothing.’

‘You mean Loki and I are doing nothing.’

‘If the shoe fits,’ Tony said.

The agenda was clearly made for you, and the rest of the team was in on it. You looked through your sheet - which honestly wasn’t that bad. You just didn’t like being taken by surprise. Mornings in the lab testing Tony’s “space stuff.” Afternoons running any one of the Avengers’ many charity initiatives - education, rehab, food drives, what have you. And evenings pulling apart and examining weapons scavenged from aliens kindly brought to you by either Carol Danvers or Gamora.

And then you picked up Loki’s (who was sleeping late as usual). Mornings in the training facility training new recruits. Afternoons doing weapons testing with Tony. And evenings at any of the charity drives.

This was deliberate. You couldn’t fathom why the Avengers would play such games, but you weren’t about to be taken for a ride. ___________________________________________

Later in the morning, when Loki finally woke from his prolonged slumber, you told him about Tony’s passive-aggressive comment and the new agenda sheets. His green eyes flickered with the same spark of rebellion that mirrored your thoughts.

"Why the sudden change, you think?" Loki questioned.

"Control," you muttered, piecing the agenda with the prior night's conversations you had eavesdropped on through the vents—a risky yet fruitful habit. "They fear us, Loki. They're splitting us up, weakening our position."

Loki's smirk was as sly as ever, an idea brewing in the back of his mind. As he leaned closer, the proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you charged with a dangerous excitement.

"Then perhaps, my dear..." His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, his breath a warm caress against your ear. "...it's time we teach them the folly of their paranoia."

The words, scandalous and provocative, ignited something within you. Your heart thudded violently in your chest, a wild drumbeat echoing in the hollow of your ribs. It was the thrill of the forbidden, the allure of stepping into the shadows with Loki by your side, not just as a partner in crime but as a co-conspirator in a game most perilous.

His eyes locked onto yours, green fires that burned with mischief and an unspoken promise of chaos. It was an unholy proposal, stepping over a line you knew well but had never dared to cross before. And yet, as your heart raced and your thoughts spun, you realized that the decision had already been made in that fleeting heartbeat.

"Yes," you breathed out, the word less a reply and more a surrender to the exhilarating unknown. "Let's make them regret ever doubting us."

With that, your fate was sealed.

___________________________________________

Under the guise of your newly assigned tasks, you and Loki meticulously orchestrated your daring plan. Each task provided unique opportunities to prepare for the heist without arousing suspicion among the other Avengers.

In the mornings, Loki was stationed at the training facility, instructing new recruits in the art of combat and deception. Utilizing his godly charisma and depth of experience, he subtly wove lessons on unpredictability and misdirection into his training, skills that would prove essential in the upcoming heist. While training these recruits, Loki also discreetly surveyed the facility's layout and security details, noting any potential vulnerabilities.

In the afternoons, his task shifted to weapons testing with Tony. These sessions, fraught with the clang of metal and the buzz of new technology, provided Loki with the perfect cover to engage Tony in technical discussions, subtly extracting information about the latest security updates and the locations of key research projects, including the cloaking device. Loki used his wit to keep Tony focused on the tasks at hand, ensuring his own activities went unnoticed.

Evenings saw Loki participating in various charity drives. These engagements offered him a public face of benevolence; all the while, he used these outings to establish alibis and build trust within the community and among his team, masking his true intentions under the guise of philanthropy.

Your mornings were spent in Tony’s lab, ostensibly testing new equipment designated aptly as “space stuff.” This task was critical because it allowed you direct access to some of the most advanced technology within the Avengers’ arsenal. While your official task was to test and report on these devices, you utilized this time to familiarize yourself with the lab’s security systems and to map out a discreet path to the prototype device. Your expertise in technology helped you to handle the equipment convincingly, all while preparing for the eventual theft.

Just like Loki, you used your time at the afternoon charity drives to make connections with community members and the other Avengers, enhancing your image as a dedicated member. This wasn’t a farce - you did care about the community. But right now, you had an underlying feeling of anger and hurt that the Avengers you gave your life to were doubting your intentions. So, you networked and built connections that could be useful for creating diversions or obtaining information indirectly related to the Avengers’ operational security.

The evenings were dedicated to examining and dismantling alien weaponry, and this time was invaluable not only for understanding potential alien tech that could be repurposed to aid in your escape but also for ensuring you were updated on the latest extraterrestrial technologies that might impact your plan. ___________________________________________

Days turned into weeks. You and Loki could only ever meet at night, and though you expected a whole day of events to make you too tired to plan a heist, you were actually excited. These secret meetings were charged with an electric anticipation that both thrilled and unnerved you. What started as a time to go over your respective findings turned into something far more intimate. As you poured over maps and schematics, your discussions often went into other things. Your pasts, your stories, your motives for joining the Avengers… everything you both usually kept hidden under bravado or mischief.

Loki’s usual façade of indifference was replaced by a passionate intensity about your joint mission. It was during one of these evenings, while reviewing security layouts, that he looked up from the papers, his gaze piercing. “You know, in all my years of schemes and conquests,” he confessed, his voice a low rumble, “I’ve never felt quite as... exhilarated as I do now, planning this with you.”

These words struck a chord within you, igniting a warmth that spread through your chest.

Nights passed… you sat close to each other, naturally relaxing into each other. Soon, you moved the meetings from the facility terrace to each other’s bedrooms, comfortably laying in bed and discussing everything and nothing.

“I’m the only kid in my family to get a job’ you once revealed. ‘And now I feel like their lives all depend on me.’

It’s true that you were more focused and serious before Loki came in. But that was because you never allowed yourself to do anything else but meet the expectations of your family. Loki was a breath of fresh air. The child you wished you could be for once.

You didn’t have to explain all that to him. After you spilled your secret, Loki pulled you closer to him and stroked your head softly as you fell asleep. As you drifted off in his safe and warm embrace, you thanked Tony for his harsh comments. Were it not for him, you and Loki might never have bonded this way.

But a day after that fact occurred to you, your mind began to wander. Was this love destined, or was it just something that happened due to an unfavorable circumstance?

Did he realize he was in danger? Were you his escape plan?

With this deepening connection came a vulnerability that was new to both of you. The fear of betrayal, so ingrained in both your natures, loomed large as the day of the heist approached. Could you truly trust Loki with your heart, just as you were trusting him with your life?

___________________________________________

The night before the heist, as you both sat back after hours of meticulous planning, Loki turned to you with a seriousness that was rare for him. “No matter what happens,” he said, his voice steady and sincere, “I want you to know that I... I value this. Us. More than I thought possible.”

His admission was a confession, and in the dim light of your secluded meeting spot, you allowed yourself a moment to truly look at him—not as the God of Mischief or an Avenger, but as a man who had unexpectedly become so much more. The stakes were higher now.

Could this connection you created in the night - in the seclusion of the terrace and the safe confines of your bedroom - last in daylight?

___________________________________________

4 PM.

Your heart hammered as you bypassed the final security protocols and laid your hands on the prototype device, its field of light flickering with the promise of freedom. With the device secured, you slipped away to meet Loki at the designated rendezvous point, ready to disappear. As per today’s schedule, the Avengers were all at a school for at-risk youths, so it would be hours before anybody even realized what had happened.

As you ran, the back of the backpack hitting you with every step, you felt a sense of dread in your stomach. Why didn’t this feel exhilarating? Why didn’t it feel freeing?

You reached the entrance and saw Loki in your getaway car - a dark green sports Jaguar with the top town. The feeling of unease did not rest when you saw his face. The plan had gone too smoothly. Was it all too convenient?

Your own thoughts a traitor to you, your heart sank as you opened those doors and jumped into his car. He put his lips to yours in absolute delight, barely able to stop smiling as he planted kiss after kiss on your face.

"Are you with me, truly?" you found yourself asking, voice edged with a fear you hated to admit.

Loki's expression softened, a hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "Always," he reassured.

The escape was a blur—for a moment, you forgot your reservations and reveled in the thrill of the wind in your hair. It was so romantic. So powerful. As night closed in and you left the sparkling city, the car drove into the darkness, but your heart was never lighter. His hand was on your thigh, and the music in your mind swelled as you imagined a whole new life with him. You were his savior, and he was yours.

But the high soon crashed.

As you reached the motel you decided to spend the night at, you looked over at him, and your heart sank again. The love was only alive in safe spaces. In comfortable places where it was nobody else’s business.

You got out of the car and checked into your room - cash only. The room was nothing grand - it didn’t have to be. It would suffice until your contact made you fake passports, and you could get the hell out of the country.

Loki did suggest simply teleporting the pair of you to Asgard, but that would hardly be a safe place to hide. And besides… why would he make such a ridiculous suggestion? Because he expected it to be shut down? Was your plan - your dream - to run away to somewhere in Asia and live a simple life actually his plot all along? And which god would agree to a simple life? Was it a ploy to make you feel safe before he betrayed you and left with the cloaking device?

Questions upon questions filled your head. You weren’t sure if you were being your own worst enemy, so you decided to sleep on it. Loki asked if you wanted to get a drink at the motel bar, but you just wanted to creep under the covers and sleep the adrenaline off. He didn’t protest - he wanted you to be comfortable.

It only made you more paranoid. Why didn’t he care enough to insist on a celebratory drink? Was he going to take this time to plot his escape?

If betrayal were inevitable, you’d strike first.

As soon as you heard the door click shut, you leaped out of bed and got dressed. You grabbed the bag with the device and the car keys and ran to the door. Then you paused… if you left right now, Loki wouldn’t stop looking for you. And nowhere on earth would be safe from a god.

With a heavy heart, you called the Avengers facility from the motel landline.

___________________________________________

You watched from the shadows as Loki drank his whiskey all alone. Your heart ached as you turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Maybe it wasn’t too late… maybe you could grab him from the motel bar, drag him to the car, and keep running.

Those hopes were dashed when you saw the Iron Suit’s unmistakable lights draw closer to the motel. For a moment you looked back at Loki to mouth a silent apology. He managed to lock eyes with you for a split second, confused and hurt, before the roof crashed in on him.

Nothing good starts in a getaway car.

___________________________________________

I hope this is similar to what you wanted <3

Feel free to leave requests here, and you can find my Masterlist here <3

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fanfic #taylor swift #taylor swift reputation #getaway car #loki marvel #mcu loki #loki laufeyson #tva loki

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annepsilvaauthor · 10 months ago

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You Belong With Me - Jamie Dutton

Pairing: Jamie Dutton x OC (Ava North)

Summary: Ava only wanted one thing: to be a horse tamer. And when she had the chance, she took it. Ava became the new horse tamer of Yellowstone, a totally different ranch from the others she met, either because of its immensity or because of family problems. Ava thought her problems were big, but when she met the Dutton family that thought dies. However, there is a Dutton who is a point out of the curve, a lawyer mistreated by the problems and by his own family. Meeting Jamie Dutton may not have been the work of chance, after all one broken understands the other.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Part I

A woman among rustic men

"Guys, this is Ava North. She will stay with us from now on. Treat her like one of you." Rip announced to the cowboys at dawn.

Ava watched every look of the cowboys carefully. They stared at her in a mixture of discredit, confusion and horniness. She did not expect anything different from what she received, after all, she was the only woman among those rustic men who probably had no time or willingness to leave the barn in search of some adventure in the city. Rip could order them to treat her like a man, they could try to treat her like a man, she wanted them to see her like that, but Ava would never pass herself off as a man.

Ava had inherited her mother's long dark hair, as well as slightly tanned skin and small, black eyes. They said that her nose and mouth looked a lot like her father's, but she couldn't say it since she never saw him. The slender and curvilinear body may have been inherited by genetics, although the years of training for competitions have physically prepared her for something beyond rodeo. The fact was that, even under a hat, wide and thick clothes, heavy boots and dust, Ava did not go unnoticed by anyone, especially for those men.

Rip did not give enough time for the cowboys to whisper or approach Ava, sending them to perform the daily tasks. One of them, Lloyd, a man who looked more than fifty years old, but with a cervix as hard as hers, guided her with a respectful smile to one of the horses in the barn. It was big, black and shiny.

"How gorgeous you are." Ava exclaimed walking her hands through the robust mane and it snealed loudly at her. "Hey, calm down, boy."

"This stallion has given us a lot of work." Lloyd explained in his hoarse voice. "Rip told about your old job. Do you think you can do your magic with this one?"

"I can try." She caressed the strong shoulders of that horse as a woman would caress the man she loved. "The secret is in trust. Probably whoever rode him was more afraid of him than he was of the tamer. He can feel everything, even a miserable fly in the hull, and he certainly feels our fear."

"He seems to like you." Lloyd smiled under his thick mustache as he contemplated the calm of the stallion under Ava's hands. "Let's test it."

Lloyd opened the gate and guided the stallion through the partitions until he reached the huge fence about a hundred meters away. He prepared the cell and the stirrups, so he invited her to assemble. As much as Ava had practiced that for long years, it had been a long time since she rode a horse for the last time. And taming one ha longer than that. She didn't want to tell Rip about it or she wouldn't convince him to accept her there. But the fact was that Ava was a bit nervous to ride again,

She noticed that Lloyd was watching her carefully, trying to find some reason for her to be there in the middle of those rough men who barely knew how to read. Maybe he thought why she had left the competitions or how she had convinced Rip to let her work there. Whatever his thought, Ava should demonstrate with actions that she deserved to be there, that she really had a talent and loved what she did.

So, she leaned on the cell and rode the horse. Immediately, the stallion was surprised by her presence there and began to jump and rabble, wanting to expel her from there. However, years could have passed, but the muscular memory was as alive as before. Ava grabbed the cell tightly and tied her other hand to the stirrup, slightly forcing the horse's snout. He still moved under her mount, making her run through the white sand a few times. That horse was very fierce, but Ava wouldn't be defeated.

She lightly pressed the stallion's ribs with her boots, also trying to calm her own being. Once again relaxed, Ava finally got the animal to stop jumping and start running. The strong breeze of the morning hit her face without merce, taking her hat away, but she didn't care. The smile of satisfaction covered her dusty face and she only noticed that there was an audience when the horse ceased its movements.

Lloyd clapped his hands on the other side of the fence, proud of what he had just seen. However, her attention was fixed on the man next to him. He exhaled power in his bluish look and calm expression. No one needed to report that that was Mr. John Dutton, the most influential landowner in Montana. He stared at her with a mini smile that she interpreted as something not very common to him, a smile that he released only when he was satisfied with something. Not bad for the first day, she thought.

John Dutton didn't have time to say anything about her performance — if he was going to say anything — because his attention was stolen by someone else. Ava observed a tall man, so white that he shone in the sunlight, and navy blue suit very aligned to visit a ranch. He walked in a hurry, touching the buttons of the suit in the meantime and aiming at nothing more than John's back. The rest of the world didn't seem to exist for him. Ava didn't seem to exist for him.

The man who looked like a businessman or perhaps a lawyer called John, who did not seem so happy with his arrival and walked away from the fence. The two began a quick conversation that ended in expressions that transited between worry and boredom. So, John Dutton walks away from the stables with the man in a suit. He didn't even look at Lloyd, or anything around him. His focus was just John Dutton and that intrigued Ava more than it should.

"Who was him?" She asked as soon as she got off the horse.

"He was John Dutton. Yours and our boss." Lloyd responded by collecting the stallion's stirrups.

Ava shook her head. "I know. I mean the other one, the one with the suit and tie."

"Oh! That's Jamie Dutton, John's son."

"He doesn't seem to be the son of a landowner."

Lloyd laughed as if he knew something else. "That boy always behaved as if he were more, and became more. He is the family lawyer, he graduated from Harvard and blah, blah, blah, these nonsense that you or me don't even understand."

"He really seems to be more...or want to be more." Ava thought out loud and decided to leave that subject behind, since the life of the bosses was none of her business.

But her mind wouldn't stop searching that scene and that man. Jamie Dutton. It was not a good name for a lawyer, certainly not a good one for a landowner. Still, it was a name that echoed in her mind all that day.

#jamie dutton x oc #jamie dutton #monica bellucci #kayce dutton #rip wheeler #beth dutton #yellowstone #Yellowstone fic #wes bentley #monica long #you belong with me #YBEM #smut #romance #drama #cowgirl #cowboy #far west

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chickensarentcheap · 1 year ago

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Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter 97

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Rake (OFC)

Warnings: profanity and angst

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @munstysmind @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @asirensrage @residentdormouse @alisbackalleybbq @themaradwrites @ninjasawakenedmystar @kmc1989 @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @karimac @thebewingedjewelcat

If I forgot someone, please let me know! My brain is mush!

My tag list is OPEN! Just ask if you'd like to be added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/127049641

****

He paces the length of the deck as he waits for K to pick up the phone, occasionally glancing over his shoulder and into the living room. Millie watches him in nervous curiosity; undoubtedly concerned about his mental and physical well-being, and wondering about the conversation that will take place. And when he gives her a reassuring smile, his daughter returns it with a shaky one of her own. Then stretches out on the couch stomach down and faces the sliding door; chin on her forearm as she continues to keep an eye on him.

“Rake?” K’s voice on the other end of the line.

“I’m here.”

“Sorry to call so late. I know you’ve got little ones to worry about and…”

“No such things as too early or too late. Not when it comes to my family. And especially not when it comes to Esme. I hope you have some good news for me. That you’re not calling to stall things even more.”

“I’m not…”

“Where’s my wife? I’m sick of playing these fucking games. Waiting on you to decide what’s best when it comes to her. You don’t know her. You don’t know a damn thing about her. So how about you cut the shit; tell me where she is and I’ll pay you a little visit.”

“I’m not the enemy in this, Rake. I’m far from it. If it wasn’t for me…”

“I never said I didn’t appreciate what you’re doing; putting your ass on the line to make sure she stays safe. But I’m tired of this shit; waiting on you to decide when you’re going to get off your ass and make things happen. I’m nearly out of patience, kid. And you don’t want to see what I get like when I run completely dry.”

“I’ve had to wait things out. It isn’t easy, you know; finding the time to contact you. Not with all the bodies coming and going from here, all hours of the goddamn day. If any of them were to find out I was talking to you…”

“They’d put a half dozen or so bullets in you. I get the risk. But if you continue to fuck me around, whatever they would do to you? I’ll make it look tame. Now where’s my wife?”

“I can’t let you just show up. Do you know what kind of firepower we have here? What kind of training these guys have? It’ll only make things worse. Right now, she’s safe. But I can guarantee that if I tell you where we are and you decide to show your face around here? It’s not going to end well. Especially for her. And I know that’s the last thing you want; to put her further at risk. So how about you…”

“How about you give me something to work with, then? That won’t put an even bigger target on her back. When are we going to meet? ‘Cause I’m ready to go when you are.”

“Unless you agree to my terms…”

“I already told you. I’ll be alone. I won’t try and follow when you leave. I just want to get these meds to her. To keep her and my baby safe. Until you’re able to get her out there. So when is it going to be? Because we’ve wasted enough time.”

“Two days from now. I’ve already made up an excuse. Had to lower myself to the gutter and use my son, but…”

“We’ve all done things we wish we never had to.”

“You speaking from experience, or…”

“I’ve got a lot of regrets. That I don’t wish on anyone. But you’re going to have a bigger one if you don’t stop fucking me around. We could settle this right now, mate. Put this all to bed. Avoid all this needless bullshit. Just tell me where she is, and I will come and get her. With a lot of people and a lot of firepower backing me up. So if you want to get out of this alive…”

“Do I need to get her back on the phone? Do I…?”

“Don’t do that,” Tyler warns. “Don’t weaponize her like that. It’s a real piece of shit thing to do. Weaponize her like that.”

“Look, I know you’re used to being the boss. The one calling the shots. The legendary mercenary who turned himself into a legendary boss. But I need you to let me take the lead on this. I’m the one that’s right in the trenches; trying to keep her alive. BOTH of us alive, for that matter. And if you come around and fuck things up, it’s all going to horribly wrong. You think you have regrets now? How will it be if something happens to her? Because of YOU?”

“Please, Tyler,” Esme begs in the background. “Please just listen to him. He knows what he’s talking about. I know it’s hard for you sometimes; you react emotionally when it comes to me and the kids. But I need you to just stop. Please. Just stop and think about all of this. Think about what he’s saying.”

Both chest and throat tighten. Nearly brought to his knees by the sound of her voice; the fear and the desperation that weighs down every tearful plea. And as his grip tightens around his phone, he briefly closes his eyes, struggling to get the mixture of emotions under control. A combination of intense rage, profound sadness and near-painful helplessness. And emptiness and loneliness unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

“I know what it’s like.” K’s voice is softer; laced with patience and sympathy. “Being used to always having a handle on things. The one everyone turns to when there’s trouble. And I also know what it’s like to feel all that slipping away. It’s fucking awful, mate. no longer being in control of things. Especially through no fault of your own.”

“I have seven kids here. That need their mother. And you keeping her away from them even longer than you need to…”

“I’m doing what’s best for her. I’m not doing this to cause more problems. Or to punish anyone. I know what these people are like; I know the kind of power they have and I know what kind of resources they have backing them up. It’s why we can’t just jump into things; we need to play along and gain their trust and their confidence. I can’t just break her out of here. It’s not that easy. And I think if you’d look at this as a mercenary and not as a husband, you’d say the same thing. You wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks with a client, would you? You’d do whatever it takes to keep them safe, yeah?”

“We’re talking about a client. We’re talking about my wife.”

“Which is exactly why you can’t be taking risks. Why you shouldn’t be WANTING to. How many times have you had to talk a husband down? Or a wife? From doing something stupid?”

“More than once.”

“Well, now it’s my turn to talk YOU down. I’m not stalling. I’m not dragging things out to make things worse on you or those kids. Everything I do? It’s for Esme’s benefit. And I know it’s a lot to ask, but you need to trust me.”

“That’s awful damn hard. I don’t even know you. I don’t just hand out trust to everyone I come across. You’re holding my entire life in your hands. And if there’s something I’m willing to die for, it’s her. You and your buddies fucked with the wrong man. And the wrong man’s family. You do all this damage and then expect me to just blindly trust you? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m the one who is keeping your wife and your baby alive. And if you want to stay that way…”

“Tyler…” Esme’s voice once more. Tearful. Terrified. “...please just listen to him. I’m begging you. Please.”

“I swear to God…” Tyler growls through clenched teeth. “...if you hurt her in any way…”

“All I want to do is help. Without causing more issues. I tell you where we are and you come storming in here? It will be the worst possible ending. You want your wife and your kid alive? Then you do exactly as I say.”

“Two days. I’ll meet you at our place in The Kimberley. If you don’t show up, I will hunt you down. No matter how long it takes. And I will find you and I will make you suffer. Beyond anything you ever thought possible.”

“I don’t doubt it for one second. But I WILL be there. We’re on the same side, Rake. We both want the same thing. Your wife…safe and sound…back with you and your kids. I’m not the enemy here.”

“You were. Four nights ago. When you showed up at the place in Tasmania. When you stood by and watched your buddies take my wife. And then stayed behind to kill me.”

“But I didn’t do it., did I? I backed out. Couldn’t go through with that.”

“You’re just a regular bleeding heart, aren’t ya.”

“I’m trying my best here, alright? I don’t want things to get any worse. And if you don’t listen to me and you track us down and just show up here…”

“I already said I’d back off. But we need to get a couple of things straight. This change of heart you had? When it came to killing me? Everything you’re doing to keep Esme and the baby safe? Whatever plan you’re cooking up to get her out of there? That doesn’t make us friends. We’re not buddies. We’re not going to be hanging out or going for beers or sending each other Christmas cards. Once this is over? You disappear. I better never see or hear from you again.”

“Fair enough.”

“And if anything happens to my wife, you’re going to wish you’d killed me that night. Because I will hunt you down. And I will put you in the ground. Don’t fuck me, mate. Because those stories you’ve heard? About the things I’ve done? The things I can still do? They’re all true.”

“I never doubted it for a second.”

“I’ll meet you in two days. You don’t show up? I WILL find you.”

“I’ll be there,” K assures him. “And do as I say; don’t bring an army with you, don’t try and stop me from leaving, don’t have anyone follow me. I’m the only thing that stands between your wife and whatever these assholes have planned for her. I’m sure you don’t want to chance it.”

“You just make sure she stays safe. That no one lays a hand on her. And if I find out all this time that you’ve done nothing but fuck me around…”

“If there was ever a time for you to trust someone, this is it. You need to take me at my word. That I’ll keep her safe and sound and find a way to get her the hell out of here.”

“And what are you going to want in the end? If this all goes according to plan? If you get her out of there and I bring her home? What are you going to want? As reward? A payment?”

“Just my safety. All limbs attached to my body. All my internal organs still inside and functioning properly.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

“Two days. I’ll be there.”

“Yeah…” Tyler snarls. “...you fucking better be.”

******

He wakes to the sound of little feet and voices overhead. Addie and Brookie whispering and giggling as they scurry down the hall and towards the stairs. Declan cheerfully obliging Takota’s request to piggyback him to the kitchen as TJ mutters in that grumpy, first thing of the morning way of his; yet showing off his unlimited patience when it comes to Tanner’s cheerful, incessant rambling about the dreams he’d had. And Millie and Alannah, discussing their plans for the day: seeing a movie with Nanny Stel, Addie, Takota and the older kids.

It resembles a typical morning in the Rake house. A mixture of the immediately cheerful and energetic and their easily annoyed and frustrated counterparts. Yet the reality will soon set in; the realization that -as they’re settling into breakfast- that a huge part of their household is missing. An empty chair at the kitchen table serving as a stark reminder of the nightmare that is continuing to unfold around them.

The little ones greet him with their unusual enthusiasm; Addie declaring how much she’d missed him and the tearfully declaring how she’d been worried when she’d woken up in the big bed and he wasn’t there to snuggle into. He’s the best for snuggles after all; his body is big and strong and warm and safe.

The safest place on earth, in her opinion.

With the help of Estelle, he manages to get the day started. Not only Fighting through the incessant pain that inhabits nearly every inch of his body, but struggling with the immense emptiness that Esme’s absence has left him with.

He’s standing on the back deck when Brookie rushes over to him; nursing his second cup of coffee and watching as the kids tend to their weekend chores. Watering the various plants in the garden and cleaning out the animal habitats; making sure food and water dishes are full and showering the ‘pets’ with unlimited love and attention. They’d all been taught at an early age to put in the work; learning as they toddled alongside their parents and asked what seemed like a million and one questions. Their enormous levels of curiosity quickly paying off; experiencing that rush that comes with the reward of accomplishment and pride.

Esme and him had always been on the same page when it came to how to raise a family; he can easily remember those early days when Millie was still in her belly. Those often emotional late-night chats about the things they’d been robbed of in their childhoods; filled with promises to make sure their offspring never suffered in the same way. Both determined to provide the same things: lots of love, acceptance, and support. While they’d be given both things they would need and desire, they would also be trusted with responsibilities; simply chores that would start in the toddler years. Their parents wanting them to grow up to be not only self-sufficient adults but damn good humans; compassionate and empathetic and blessed with both book smarts and practical hands-on knowledge.

“Daddy!” Brooklyn wraps an entire hand around one of his fingers and gives a firm tug. “We got a problem!”

“What kind of problem?”

“A big one! No one got Pumpkin Lumpkin’s carrots ready! Momma always does them the night before; she puts them in a bag and puts them with my helmet and my boots. So we don’t have to rush around and do stuff. But momma isn’t here so now…” Taking a deep breath, she exhales dramatically. “... there’s no carrots to take!”

“We’ll stop at the store. On the way to the stables. We can run in and…”

“That won’t do! It’s not the same! Pumpkin doesn’t like the ones from the store!”

“I highly doubt Pumpkin knows the difference between store-bought and ones from our garden.”

“She’s REALLY smart, dad. Super smart! She definitely knows! And she likes mommy’s carrots best. ‘Cause mommy’s are grown with love. ‘Cause she sings and talks to her plants and that makes them taste better. Pumpkin will know something is wrong. If we don’t bring momma’s carrots. And I don’t want her to know about mumma. I don’t want her to be depressed like us.”

His throat tightens and his heartaches. Even in the smallest and most mundane of ways, Esme’s absence is an enormous loss to all of them. “I promise I won’t tell her. And we still have a bit of time before we leave. Why don’t you run and grab some carrots? That we can take with us.”

Brooklyn’s face visibly brightens at the suggestion. “I’m going to pick the best ones! Pumpkin deserves them!”

“Well, leave some good ones for humans. We gotta eat them too.” He tousles her hair before she runs off, then calls to Declan to help her in the garden. He’s inherited his mother’s green thumb; first developing a love for all things gardening when he was merely four years old. Always excited to be ‘helping her’; all smiles and giggles and chatter as he walked alongside her, carrying a watering can.

“Looks like ‘business as usual’ around here.” Riley’s voice comes from behind as she lingers in the open doorway; leaning against the frame with her arms folded against her chest. And Tyler briefly glances over his shoulder; immediately noticing the absence of the vibrance that normally accompanies the redhead. Currently replaced by stormy eyes, furrowed brow, and tightly set jaw.

Sighing, he turns his attention back to the hustle and bustle in the backyard.“Gotta keep things as normal as possible for them.”

“Things are as far from normal as they can possibly get.”

“I need to try to bring them a little bit of happiness. Not every aspect of their life has to completely suck.”

“You certainly don’t seem to be suffering any. You’re just back to everyday life.”

He wants to argue about it being the furthest thing from the truth; remind her that he’s the one suffering the most. Both emotionally and physically. But at the same time, he understands her anger. Albeit misplaced, she’s worried and terrified and desperate to ‘get the show on the road’. Anxious to do whatever she can to help find her sister. And it’s her heartache that is convincing her that she needs someone to blame. That she has to hold someone responsible for what happened.

“I’m just doing my best. Trying to hold things together. For my kids.”

Riley joins him, laying both forearms along the top railing of the deck. “Might be better for them if they see something…anything…from you. Emotion wise.”

“I’ve shown a lot of emotion. In front of them. Just because you haven’t personally seen it, doesn’t mean it’s not happening. I could turn the tables and say the same thing about you. You haven’t exactly shed a tear. Ranted and raved. Not since a couple of days ago anyway.”

Scowling, she casts her brother-in-law a sidelong glance.

“I heard what you said. To Shaena. I heard ALL of it. And I wasn’t going to say anything but I totally get where it’s all coming from. It’s a hell of a thing that happened and we’re all suffering and we’re all trying to find a way to cope. And I’ve been there myself; worried and scared and angry and needing to take it all out on someone. I think it’s pretty normal for a lot of people; needing someone to place the blame on. Even if it is no one’s fault.”

“But it IS your fault. The blame is all on you. You’re the reason this happened. You and what you do for a living and all the people you’ve pissed off and…”

“What happened has nothing to do with me. These people? That took your sister? They’re from HER past. Not mine.”

“Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear from you. Victim blaming. Especially when the victim is your own wife. My sister.”

“That’s NOT what I’m doing. I’m trying to explain my side of things. I was the one who was there, Riley. Not you. All these details you have in your head? You put them there. I didn’t. No one else. You let your imagination run wild; your brain made up all kinds of bullshit and you’re actually believing it. Everything you said to Shaena? None of it was true.”

“Seems like it’s pretty cut and dry. Someone is out for revenge. And they’re getting it through my sister.”

“There’s nothing cut and dry about this. And yeah, they’re out for revenge. But not because of something I did. Not because of the past I’ve led. I HAVE crossed a lot of bad people. Stepped out on a lot of toes. Burned a lot of bridges. And I see how it makes sense; someone out to get me so they chose her as a target. But that’s not what it’s about AT ALL.”

“Don’t even try and pretend you’re innocent in all of this. That who you are and what you do didn’t play some kind of part. Don’t…”

“I wasn’t even going to tell you all of this. I even asked Shaena and everyone else who knows the details to keep it from you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to spare you from all of that. Because this IS your sister we’re talking about. But if you’re going to keep up with your bullshit, maybe it’s better if you do know the truth. So you shut the fuck up about me.”

Riley blinks at the vehemence in his voice.

“This is about Mark. He’s the one behind this.”

“Mark. Douchebag ex-husband extraordinaire? That’s who we’re talking about, right? THAT Mark?”

“Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t be a condescending little bitch. Yes. THAT Mark.”

“The same Mark that cheated on her while coming back from their honeymoon? By joining the mile high with a stewardess? The same Mark that used to beat her senseless? Force her to eat food off the floor? Rape her? That put her in the ICU? TWICE.”

“I know everything he’s done. Everything that he put her through. I probably know more than you do. Things she never even told you.”

“The same Mark that you ordered someone to kill? Only to later find out he was still alive? The same ‘back from the dead’ Mark you ever told my sister about? Until it was too late?”

“I had my reasons. For not saying anything to her. There was a lot going on; I had just been through all that bullshit with Nathan, she was pregnant with the twins. She didn’t need anything else added to her plate. I didn’t think it mattered; whether he was really dead or not. She THOUGHT he was. And that made her really feel at peace for the first time in years. I did what I had to do. For HER.”

“How come every time you decide something for her it ends up being the shittiest possible outcome?”

“I had no idea it would come back and bite me in the ass. He flew under the radar for five years. I thought he’d just given up; decided to leave us alone and go on with his life. How the fuck was I supposed to know he’d do some shit like this? You think I wanted this to happen? That I somehow ASKED for it to happen? Esme may be your sister, but she’s MY wife.”

“If you’d just left her alone. In Dhaka. If you’d just kept your dick in your pants…”

“Don’t bring that up. You have no idea what happened in Dhaka. During those five days. But it was more than that. Way more.”

“Y0u should have let her walk away. Afterwards.”

“I was in a coma. I woke up, she was there. I didn’t force her to stay. I didn’t hold a gun to her so she’d stick around. That was HER decision. Both on the bridge and off it.”

“You should have MADE her. You should have…”

“She’s a grown woman, Riley. She was a grown woman when we met. Every decision she made? She made it on her own. She stayed because she wanted to. Simple as that. And you know Esme as well as I do. No one tells her what to do. NO ONE.”

“You brought her into this kind of life. You did whatever it took to KEEP her in it. Knowing that there were people who would just love to get revenge. And use her to do it. THAT should have been enough to convince her to walk away. That was selfish, Tyler. And deep down, I think you realize that. You were selfish to bring her into this life. And to bring kids into it, too?”

“I love your sister. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. I don’t regret how we met. I don’t regret not trying harder to push her away. I don’t regret a goddamn thing when it comes to her. And yeah, there were times I didn’t do right by her. Where I was a really shit husband. But we got past all that. We worked on our shit. We still work at it. Every day. So for you to stand here and accuse me of manipulating her or bullying her or…”

“What happened, Tyler? The other night? HOW did it happen? Can you at least tell me that? How someone like you -with all your skills and all your strength and experience and all the blood on your hands- could let this happen? How could you let them take her?”

“I didn’t LET them take her. Look at me! Look how fucked up I am! Does this body look like it belongs to someone who just LET them?”

“She isn’t here, is she? You have no clue WHERE she is.”

“You weren’t there. In Tasmania. You don’t know what went down. I didn’t stand a chance. It wasn’t just one or two guys. I’m not even sure how many there actually were. But they knew they had to blindside me; take me down and keep me down. They knew every weak spot. Every fucked up part of me. And that’s how they were able to do it. They took me out first and then went for her. Do you really think I’d just let them walk in and grab her? You really think that little of me?”

“I never…”

“I fought. For as long and as hard as I could. I wouldn’t look like this if I didn’t. And you know what they did? When it still wasn’t enough for him? They used her against me. They were going to kill her, Riley. If I didn’t stop fighting and I didn’t calm her down. They would have killed her right in front me. Maybe even done some really sick shit to her before that. And you know what? They probably would have left me alive. So I’d remember every second of what she went through for the rest of my life.”

“Tyler…”

“Yeah, I gave up. And that’s the only reason she’s still alive.”

“You don’t know that she is.”

“I DO know that. I can’t tell you how. But I know that she is. She’s not a hundred percent safe, but she has someone working damn hard to get her away from these people. I love your sister. I’d never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally. I WILL find her. And I will make them pay. For EVER touching her.”

“You promised her. When you met. That you’d protect her. No matter what. Against anyone and everything. You PROMISED, Tyler.”

“And I meant it. Every word. I didn’t have a choice. It was either lose her right there and then, or keep her alive and then do everything I had to to track her down. It wasn’t an easy decision, believe me.”

“Promise me you’ll bring her home. No matter what. Even if she is…”

“She’s NOT dead. She’s very much alive. And I know you’re stressed and you’re scared and you’re pissed off. I get it, believe me. But I’m not the enemy here. I didn’t want any of this to happen. All I want is for her to be here. With me, with her kids. That’s all I want. More than anything. My entire existence? My world? It begins and ends with her.”

“Daddy! Daddy, look what I got!” The soles of Brookie’s bare feet slap against the wooden deck as she races towards him. And Riley mouths a ‘I’m so sorry’ before giving his arm a comforting squeeze and bidding a hasty retreat into the house.

Managing to swallow down the emotions, he turns to Brookie with a smile. “What’cha got?”

Frowning, she makes her way to the sliding door and peers inside, looking for her aunt. “Where’d she go?”

“Who?”

“Auntie Riley. She was here and then she was gone and she looked really upset and…”

“She had a phone call. What’cha got?”

The four-year-old relents and hurries over to him, proudly holding out a reusable grocery bag. “Look!! Look at all the carrots I got for Pumpkin Lumpkin! Declan helped me pick all the best ones! We put some in there for Bodhi too, but he loves apples more, so…”

“We’ll grab him some, on our way out the door. You ready to go or…?”

“Daddy?” Brooklyn tilts her head to the side as she peers up at him. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t look okay?”

“Not really. ‘Cause of what the bad guys did to you. If you don’t feel like going to the horses, it’s okay. I won’t be upset. I understand. I know that you got a lot of ouchies.”

“Come here.” Scooping her up with his one good hand, he presses a kiss to her temple and then settles her on his hip. “I WANT to go, alright? It makes me happy; getting to spend time with you. And I really need a little bit of happy right now.”

“I need some too. But you don’t look so happy right this sec. You look like you’re going to cry. Is it ‘cause you’re hurtin’? And ‘cause you miss mumma?”

“Yeah…” Manages a smile through a threatening flood of tears. “...I miss her a whole lot.”

“I miss her too. We’ll take lots of pictures! At the stables. Like we always do. Mumma always asks to see our photos! We can show her. When she comes home.”

“Gives her something to look forward to, yeah? I’m sure you guys will have a lot of things to tell her.”

“I already have tons! Lots of stories. But I have to get to her before Addie does or I’ll be waiting forever!”

Chuckling, he places a noisy kiss on her forehead, then tightens his hold on her. His eyes closed, chin resting on the top of her head.

*****

The stables are half an hour north. Sitting hundreds of acres of land that includes riding and jumping facilities, buildings for boarding, and a modernized, eight-bedroom farmhouse that comfortably fits the owner and his extended family. An army veteran thirty years Tyler’s senior; highly decorated and renowned for numerous acts of bravery and selflessness. They’d met him and his wife through a support group for military PTSD sufferers and their partners, and an instant -albeit slightly reluctant on Tyler’s behalf- friendship had evolved.

He finds it hard to be social. Not one for mindless chit chat and an immensely private person; always desiring to keep certain parts of his life a secret. But Esme had needed someone to bond with and he couldn’t deny or rob her of that. Someone who would understand the fear and the worry and desperate need to take care of him; not judge her those feelings of helplessness when it comes to not being able to ‘fix’ him. And it had given her much-needed support, understanding, and guidance; someone -outside of him- that she could cry and vent to when things just became a little too difficult to bear.

It was through Karl and Rose that they’d learned about equine therapy and the positive effects on many war vets battling various demons. After six months of using a facility-supplied horse and being unable to deny the sense of calm and control riding gave him, Tyler had decided to purchase one of his own. In turn, Brookie had shown and expressed an interest at a very young age; barely two years old when she’d first been taken to the stables and immediately toddling over to one of the holding pens and drawing the attention of many of the horses. By the time she was three she could ride the ponies; showing impeccable balance and control of the animal for someone so young. While not interested in the ‘higher end’ activities like show jumping, she loves both her leisurely rides and how the wind blows through her hair during the harder gallops. And she doesn’t mind the mess; helping muck stalls and fill the feed and water troughs.

Always used to being outtalked by Addie, she seizes the opportunity of being alone with him. Sitting on the hood of the truck while he tends to tying her riding boots and securing her helmet; chattering about her week at school and about her excitement at getting to ride her horse and even cleaning her stall and grooming her afterwards. And she skips alongside him as they head into the main holding barn; the bag of carrots and apples swinging from one hand as the other tightly holds onto two of his fingers.

In that moment, she reminds him so much of her mother. The zest for life and the intense and unwavering passion she commits to the things she loves. The fierceness with which she protects those closest to her and the startling amounts of empathy and patience. And that smile as she beams up at him in pure delight; bright and beautiful and crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. And somehow -in the painful, horrific midst of his worst nightmare- she manages to pierce the dark and stormy veil that’s shrouded him for the last four days. Bringing a tiny yet much-needed amount of warmth and sunshine.

“You know what I want to do, dad? When I’m older? And Pumpkin is too? Guess what I want to do!”

“Show jumping?”

“I already told you tons of times! I’m not into that. That’s NOT my thing. That’s more something Addie would do. IF she wasn’t scared of horses. I don’t get it, daddy. How is anyone scared of them? Especially Pumpkin Lumpkin and Bodhi. They’re so sweet! They wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I think it’s because she’s so tiny and they’re so big. It scares her; being so high off the ground. Probably afraid she’s going to fall off. It’s why your mum doesn’t want to ride. She’s scared of getting hurt.”

“Bodhi is really big but Pumpkin isn’t. She’s still a baby. Maybe we can get Addie one of those little mini horses. Remember those? The ones I learned on? They’re mini just like Addie so maybe she wouldn’t be scared of them. Can we? Get her one?”

“I can definitely talk to your mum about that.”

His heart sinks the moment the words leave his mouth. Just something else he took for granted; her presence in his life, home, and bed always a surety. And now even the basics have been viciously torn away; he can’t just send a quick text or call her on the phone or simply wait to arrive back at the house to share something he’d seen or heard while he was out.

For thirteen years, Esme had been the one constant in his life. Her mere presence had gotten him through the darkest and most trying of days following Dhaka; consistently and devotedly camping herself at his bedside and refusing to leave even when given the most dire of prognosis. She had supported him through the months of recovery; his one-person cheering section as he laboured and struggled to relearn even the most basics of tasks and functions. She had taken him back after their sixth-month separation; tearfully calling him in the middle of the night and begging him to come home. She’d missed him and didn’t want his absence to become permanent; worried his drinking and drug use would only grow in need and intensity and lead to his demise. And he’d followed every ‘rule’ that she’d put forth; checking himself into rehab and anger management and agreeing to attend both solo and individual counselling.

She’d been there after Nathan had destroyed both his body and his mind. Accepting the responsibilities of feeding him, washing his hair, helping him in and out of the shower. Never losing her patience when the lingering effects of his concussion and added brain trauma had caused him to ask the same questions over and again. She had been by his side when he’d been given the CPTSD and Bipolar diagnosis; angrily and adamantly refusing his suggestion that she walk away and spare herself the torment that would come with having to put up with his ‘episodes’. And the very real worry that he’d one day snap and take all his frustration and hurt out on her and the kids.

“We’re better together than we are apart,” she’d reminded him. “You said that yourself. In Dhaka. So if you think I’m letting you deal with this on your own, you’ve got another thing coming.”

So many roles in his life that she fills. Loyal confidant. Fervid supporter. Best friend. Lover. Wife. Mother of his children. And he’s simply not ready to give any of those up.

But it’s lonely and he feels so empty. His broken and aching body constantly reminds him that he isn’t the same man he used to be. And he worries that maybe…just maybe…he really HAD failed her. Reneging on his wedding day promises to provide for her and love her and cherish her. To keep her safe, happy and warm.

And to always…above all else…protect her.

“Mumma will say yes!” Brookie declares, oblivious to the darkness that has descended upon him. “Mumma loves animals! Like me. And like you! We all love animals!”

“No one loves quite as much as you. And you never did tell me what you wanted to do. When you’re bigger.”

“I wanna own a ranch! Just like this one. Well maybe not JUST like it, ‘cause I wanna raise cattle and have some alpacas and a pumpkin patch where people come at Halloween! I’m going to decorate it all up and it’s gonna have apple cider and pumpkin muffins and cookies and pie and there’s gonna be a haunted house! And a hayride! There’s GOTTA BE a hayride.”

“What are you going to do the rest of the year?”

“Spend time with my cows. And my alpacas. Don’t worry, I’ll have some chickens for you and some goats for mum. ‘Cause they’re YOUR faves. Maybe I’ll even have horse riding lessons and stuff like that. Or have summer camps for kids!”

“Sounds like you got it all planned out.”

“I’m gonna be a cowgirl! I’m going to wear cool cowgirl clothes and hats and on special days Pumpkin will get her hair braided and her ribbons will match what I’m wearing.”

“You’re going to make a mint. Beef is a huge business around here. Always in demand.”

Brookie stops dead in her tracks; brow furrowed as she stares up at him incredulously. “Excuse you, dad! The cows aren’t going to be for eating! Those cows are gonna be my pets! You can’t eat my pets! You wouldn’t let anyone eat Mac or Saju, would you?”

“There’s kind of a big difference between a house pet and beef cattle.”

“Listen, you can get your meat somewhere else. Eat someone else’s cows. Not mine! I swear if any of them go missing and up in the freezer, I’m going to know it was you! And I’m really going to be pissed and I’m not going to talk to you for a long time. Like a week. Or two! Just to teach you a lesson!”

“Oh man,” he heaves a long, dramatic sigh. “How will I ever cope? A week or two of peace and quiet?”

“Dad…” Planting a hand on her hip, she cocks her head to the side. “...that is NOT friends!”

“You just told me I can’t eat beef again. I’m a carnivore, damn it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t eat it ever again! I said you have to get it from someone else! Eat someone else’s cows. Not mine. That’s eating your own grandchildren, you know. That’s the only kids you’re getting from me! Why would you eat them? You’ll be okay. You’ll find meat somewhere else. Just go to the shops!”

“How did you know ‘carnivore’ means someone that eats meat? You’re only four.”

“It’s ‘cause I’m smart. Like mum.”

Tyler smirks. “Is that a backhanded way of calling me stupid?”

“You’re smart too, daddy.” Brookie curls her arms around one of his thighs and leans her hand against him; eyes sparkling mischievously as she grins up at him. “In your own way.”

“You’re a real little shithead, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know!” With a giggle and a squeeze of his leg, she turns on her heel and skips off into the barn. Pausing only long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder and add, “Mum says I get it from you!”

*****

An hour later, he keeps an ear open for any difficulties in the stall next to him. Brookie tending to Pumpkin; alternating between talking herself through each step of the care routine and repeatedly singing, “Dirty deeds! Done dirt cheap!”. Earlier she’d insisted on carrying the feed and water buckets herself; slow yet steady trips across the barn as she muttered about how heavy the hauls were. Informing him: “I can do it! I can do it!” each time he offered a hand.

“Daddy?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he finds his daughter peering through the slats in the wall that separates the horses’ stalls “Brookie?”

“I got a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Pumpkin is out of those salt licky things and I checked the storage in here and there’s none there. I know where they keep them. Out back. And I’m not supposed to go anywhere unless I tell you or ask permission.

So is it okay if I go and grab some? I’ll be really quick. Like a ninja.”

“Promise? Just there and back? No stopping every stall to say hi to the horses?”

“I promise. There and back! No stopping to say ‘hi’. But it’s going to kill me not to!”

“Go ahead then.”

Tyler keeps an eye on her from over the partition; gaze following as she bolts from Pumpkin’s stall and then scurries through the barn and towards the rear exit. And he returns his attention to Bodhi when the four-year-old steps out into the sunshine; speaking in a low, smooth tone as he gently glides a brush through the horse’s mane and along his glistening, chestnut coat.

There’s something so comforting about it; the smells, sounds, and sights within the barn’s four walls. The smoothness of the horse’s coat against his palms and the coarseness of the mane as it slips through his fingers. Far more therapeutic than any counselling session has ever been; no awkwardness between yourself and a doctor, no embarrassment at some of the secrets and confessions you share. And he thoroughly enjoys his time at the ranch; left alone to tend to his own business and the fresh air and rolling hills soothing him in ways no medication ever could.

He’s filling the water and food troughs when it happens. An ear-piercing scream that he can hear over the din inside the barn; managing to find its way over the rustles of horses within their stalls and the loud chewing and slurping and the grunts and neighing. And it makes his blood run cold and every hair on his body stands on end; initially rooted to the spot he stands in before his instincts take over. Crossing the stall in two long strides and rushing for the exit; hand reaching under the bottom of his t-shirt for the Glock -nestled in its holster- that he’d clipped to his jeans before leaving the house.

“Daddy!” Brookie’s panicked voice floats in the air. “Daddy! Help! Help me please!”

The sunshine burns his eyes when he steps outside; initially blinding him. When he regains his senses he glances down and finds a panicked Brookie looking up at him; her vision blurred by tears of both frustration and fear. And both feet stuck in a large, thick puddle of mud.

“Daddy, help! I can’t get out! I can’t move my boots! Not without my feet coming out!”

Relief surges through him and his fingers slip from the handle of the Glock; tucking it back into its resting place and covering the holster with the bottom of his t-shirt. And he drops to a knee in front of his daughter; her hands immediately clutching his shoulders as he investigates the situation.

“Calm down. You’re alright. I’ll get you out of there.”

“What if you can’t? What if I have to stay here forever?!”

“That’s not going to happen. It’s just mud. Not like you’re stuck in concrete.”

“What if it isn’t mud? What if it’s quicksand? What if it’s quicksand and it sucks me under!”

“I won’t let that happen. And besides, it’s NOT quicksand.”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything, remember? Santa’s email and phone number, how to speak kangaroo. Now just take a breath and calm down and I’ll have you out of there in no time.”

“I don’t want to lose my boots! They’re my favourite! Mummy got them for me. And it might be the last thing she ever bought me and I won’t have them anymore and…”

“You won’t lose your boots,” he assures her. “Or your mum. She’s got a long life ahead of her. Lots of time left to buy you things.”

“You sure?”

“I am one hundred percent sure. I’m going to find her mum and bring her home and she’ll never…ever….get taken away again.”

“You promise?”

Tyler mods.

“Pinkie promise?”

He hooks his little finger around the much tinier one offered to him, then leans in to peck his daughter’s forehead. “You’re alright, Brookie. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re not going to be stuck here forever. Maybe a few days. At the most. And if that happens, I promise I’ll come visit three times a day and bring you all your favourite snacks.”

She manages a shaky, tearful smile.

“Let’s get you…and your boots…out of there, yeah? Then we’ll get you clean and finish stuff with Pumpkin and Bodhi and go for ice cream?”

“Can we get a banana split to share? That’s always our special treat.”

“You read my mind. I was just thinking the same thing. Come on, let’s get you out of this nasty old mud.”

As he begins working at clearing layers of mud with his bare hands, her much smaller ones come to rest on his shoulders; tiny body leaning into his, her chin resting on the top of his head. And after several minutes of scooping away muck and wrinkling her legs, she’s finally free and she gives an ecstatic cheer, an enormous sigh of relief, and then promptly bursts into tears.

“Daddy…” Her sobs shake her entire body, and she curls her arm around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder. “...Daddy…”

He wordlessly comforts her; one muddy hand in her hair and the other on the small of her back. Waiting until her sobs diminish in frequency and force before speaking. “This isn’t just about getting stuck in the mud. And the boots.”

Brookie vigorously shakes her head.

“It’s about your mum, yeah? And how much you miss her?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to. And I’m not going to force you to. As long as you know that when you’re ready to get it all out, you know where to find me. You’ll come to me, yeah? And tell me all about it?”

“I don’t want to make you more sad.”

“Listen to me, Brookie.” Pulling away, he clasps her face in his hands. “It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling or what I’ve got going on. Don’t ever worry about that. You come first. You and your brothers and your sisters. So promise me; that you’ll come and talk to me. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“ I know you want to be strong. Especially for Addie. And you are an incredibly brave and strong little girl for even trying. But do you know what the best thing is? For your sister? For her to see you get upset. Because she might be older, but she idolizes you and wants to be just like you. And right now? She needs to know it’s alright to be sad. To get angry. Cry a lot. That’s what she needs. I mean look at your brothers; they’re not afraid to show it. Even TJ and Delcan, as tough as they are. Even She-Beast Millie’s been out in the open about it.”

“She-Beast,” Brookie repeats, and manages a giggle. “And you cry too.”

“I do. Lots of daddies cry. Even the really big and really strong ones. It took me a long time to do it, though. In front of people. And you know who taught me that it was alright? Your mum. And she is the smartest person I have ever known. Not to mention the strongest. So don’t hide things, okay? That’ll just hurt worse in the end. And for a long time. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to end up like I did. Understand?”

She nods. “I understand, daddy.”

“I miss your mumma so much. Every second of every day. She’s not just my wife and the mother of my kids, but she’s my best friend. And she’s been all those things for a long time now.”

“You promise you’ll find her? And bring her back?”

“I will do everything I can to make that happen. So that we get a lot more years with her. So she gets to meet her four-legged grandchildren.”

Laughing, Brookie rests her forehead against his. “I’m scared, daddy.”

“I know.” Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, he again embraces her; large, muscular arms holding as tightly as that little body will allow. “So am I.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #Rake kids

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creativityleftthechat · 2 years ago

Text

Best of both worlds (3)

Neteyam × Tayrangi!Metkayina!reader

Summary: Now that you are acclimated again, your parents expect you to continue your warrior training and get one step closer to your iknimaya.

Words: 3715

Warnings: injury, blood, teeny tiny bit of angst,

Notes: Hey guys, I just want to say, that I really appreciate you all and every like makes me a little giddy and just happy that you like my story. I also see the reblogs and am very thankful for those.

Masterlist

Previous Part

Fear rose in your chest during breakfast. Your dad kept bringing up the tsuraks and every time he mentioned their name, your siblings saw you swallow hard. Tsireya felt bad for you, she was glad that it wasn't asked of her to tame one of them. At least for now, her training as Tsahik is more important and she thanks Eywa for that every day. Ao'nung smirked at your distressed expression but he had some sympathy for you, having seen the injuries other warriors got from Tsurak training. Your mom tried to cheer you up by praising your swimming abilities and mentioning how you successfully tamed your ikran. All that did though, was putting more pressure on you. "Yes, you will see Y/N you will be able to tame it in no time! You already know how to fly and swim. What else is there to do? You will see daughter, the other warriors won't believe their eyes when they see you taming the mighty beast! And I will be there, telling them that I knew it! Ha!" Your dad gave your back a strong smack, making you spill your breakfast as a result. "Oh no, sorry my child! Well, you should pack it anyway, we should get an early start. It will do you good, I can feel it." With that, your dad went to retrieve a small bag so you could pack your food, while your mom prepared another portion, rubbing your back to comfort you in the process. After your food was wrapped, Tonowari all but pushed you out of the door. "A great day indeed!" Looking at your sister one last time, she tried giving you a motivating smile but it came out more as a pained grimace.

On your way to the tsuraks, you ate the rest of your breakfast while halfheartedly listening to your dad's story of how he tamed his tsurak. It was quite an interesting story...just not when hearing it for at least the fifth time. By now you were almost convinced you could retell it word for word.

At your destination, you already saw a handful of warriors in the water, among them was Jake Sully. "What did I tell you? The best warriors start early! There you have it." Your dad practically glowed with anticipation. He jumped off of the path you were standing on into the shallow water and walked towards the Omatikaya man in the deeper water as he greeted him. Toruk Makto greeted him back. "Ah Jake Sully, I believe you already met my daughter Y/N. I heard she had a successful day with your son yesterday. She spoke very highly of him!" Now you were blushing again. Great, just great. You followed your dad, noticing how the sandbanks made this the perfect spot for training. Shallow water that barely reached your knee but was easier to walk in quickly transitioned into deeper water, perfect for the tsuraks.

Jake could barely see your small form hiding behind your dad. But when he did, he saw the purple tint on your cheeks. "Yes, Neteyam mentioned that it went well. How come you are here today?" Jake wondered why you were here since you usually hung out with his children. At that Tonowari gently pushed you in front of him, proudly putting a hand on your shoulder. "Today Y/N will have her first day of learning how to ride a tsurak!" Jake saw Tonowari's proud smile as well as the worry on your face. It was clear to him who was more excited about the idea. "That sounds like fun. No worries kid, you will manage! I mean, you got a head start already riding an ikran and swimming with the ilus." Jake tried his best to sound encouraging, to ease your worries. Tonowari gave another hearty smack to your back. "You see! I told you, now come on, it's time to get started!" Jake got out of your way as your father steered you towards a group of men preparing the tsurak. You gulped and prayed to Eywa that the day will end sooner rather than later. "Ok, now child, do you want to start in the water or the air? Usually, we start in the air since that is the harder part for us but you have an advantage at that, so what would you like?" your dad crouched down to you, a proud smile on his lips, waiting for your answer. You completely disagreed with him about the air part but also felt like starting in the water would end less messy. "I...I think I would like to start in the water." Unsure, you looked between the tsurak and your dad. "The water it is!" And with that, he helped you to get on the tsurak and gave you a leather strip for your hand. "You can use that for practice. It is not required but some prefer it. It helps you tighten your grip while getting used to them. What do you say, with or without?" You would rather get pulled around than thrown off, so you quickly nodded and took the leather strip, securing it around your hand and the handle on the tsurak's saddle. "That's my girl! Always one for the tough way!" your father exclaimed, making you rethink that decision. Well, now or never! The others started backing up as you made the bond. The tsurak lowers into the water and your grip on the handle tightens. You lower yourself closer to the tsurak. The beast becomes restless and as the last few warriors step back, it starts picking up speed. Now fully in the water, you notice that it is actually very similar to the ilus. This isn't bad. This isn't bad at all, you think. You keep getting faster and faster, your grip still strong around the handle. Traveling this fast is new to you but you greatly enjoy it.

Tonowari looks in your general direction. Filled with pride, he explains to Jake: "You see my daughter, she was riding an ilu before anybody else in her age group did. She could barely walk when she one day decided it was time for her to swim with us. She made the bond and swam past all the kids her age. That's how I knew she would do well today!" Jake also looks in your direction. He is impressed by that. He wasn't sure at what age the Metkayina usually start riding the ilus but he saw no child younger than four alone with them.

Just as you think that riding a tsurak isn't as hard as everybody made it out to be, the animal shoots out of the water. The force of the sudden change of motion has you flying out of your seat, your hand rips off of the handle and tsaheylu breaks. The men can only watch as you get thrown off the tsurak, landing in the water with a splash.

Worry rises in Tonowari as he makes his way over to you as fast as he can. You rise out of the water again and take a big breath of air. Your hand throbs and as you look down you see angry red lines forming all over it. Your dad approaches you worried, saying: "Y/n! Y/n, are you alright my child?" He looks at your injured hand. "Oh dear, it's alright. I am here, no worries, it will be fine." He carefully embraces you, patting your head in comfort. Flexing one finger after the other, you notice a slight discomfort but nothing too bad. "Dad?" You look up at your dad, who lets you out of his embrace to look at you attentively. "Can I maybe not use the leather strip anymore?" The concern on your dad's face is replaced with amusement and pride as he rises, a hand on your back, turning you towards the other men who are looking in your direction concerned. "Ha! Certainly! Always facing the challenge!" Everybody relaxes as you walk back towards the group. They call for the tsurak so you can try again. Still a little away from the group, you question your dad: "Do you think I should maybe start in the air and do the transition into the water first? I think I might get that better." Always supportive of you, your dad quietly replies, "If that's what you want, you can do that. You know...you don't have to learn to ride a tsurak in a day." While he was proud of your courage, he didn't want you to get seriously injured or that push yourself too hard. Contemplating your dad's words, you reply: "No, but giving up because I failed once isn't right either. I can do this, dad!" Seeing the determination in your eyes, he gives you a nod affirming you while helping you back onto the tsurak. "When the tsurak dives into the water, you have to react quickly and lean into it to ease into the water. If you don't, the water resistance will throw you off." Nodding at your dad's words, you tightened your grip on the handle once more, this time without the supporting leather strip. "Hey kid, while it's above the surface it's very similar to an ikran. Hold yourself up and focus on the tsurak's movements." Jake gave you an encouraging thumbs up. After a small nod of confirmation, you made the bond and everybody stepped back. The tsurak picked up its speed and went up, lifting out of the water. You held yourself high, just like Neteyam taught you. Gripping the handle tightly, you focused on the tsurak's movement. Everything has worked out well so far. Feeling a change of motion, you quickly leaned into the animal just as it started diving. Now fully submerged, it picked up speed. You felt your grip on the handle getting loose and it glided through your hand before you could even react. You swam up to the surface and went back to your dad. "Good! That was good!" Your dad praised you. You appreciated it but you wanted to go again, now knowing how to do better. You smiled at your dad and got ready.

Back at the beach, Tsireya met up with the Sully children. Neteyam looked around a little confused. "Where is Y/n? I wanted to give her a present!" Tuk asks, looking at Tsireya. Smiling at the small girl, Tsireya answered loudly enough so that Neteyam could hear her as well. "My sister had to go with our father today. He is teaching her how to ride a tsurak." This surprised the Sullys since their father had told them about how difficult it was as well as how many of the warriors got bruised during their training. "Isn't that dangerous?" Kiri was a little concerned for you. "No, don't worry. Y/n is an excellent ilu rider and our father taught many warriors how to ride a tsurak. It's not easy but I am sure she will manage." Tsireya's words calmed the Sully children as she intended but she couldn't help but worry herself. She was confident in your skills but it was your stubbornness that worried her. She was concerned you would push yourself too hard. "Now, how about we swim with the ilus?" Tuk's cheerful "yes!" was all that was needed to get the group moving toward the training area of the reefs. To improve their movements with the ilus, Tsireya decided to swim in shallower water with them. Not to mention that she could keep an eye on you and see how you were doing.

At the training area, Neteyam quickly noticed the tsuraks a little away from the ilus and the group started searching for your familiar face. Lo'ak pointed towards a group of men. "Look, there she is!" The group looked in the direction Lo'ak was pointing at. You were sitting on a tsurak's back, forming tsaheylu as the warriors surrounding the animal were walking away.

After the bond was made, the tsurak picked up speed and fully got out of the water. You crouched down on its back, looking far ahead. As the beast dove into the water, you quickly changed your position, now leaning into its back. Both of you disappear into the water. Not long after, you emerged from the water a little ahead of where you dove in. You swam back to a shallower part of the water. Then you walked back towards your father and a couple of other men, as well as their dad. You seemed deeply concentrated on what the men were telling you, slightly nodding at whatever they were explaining. Neteyam focused back on Tuk when she started playing with the ilus, gleeful noises leaving her. Tsireya told them about their most common mistakes and then told them to practice for a while. After some time, Neteyam started looking after Tuk, who was by now playing with the ilus rather than practicing. Kiri also swam off playing with smaller fish. Tsireya and Lo'ak swam next to each other but were more focused on their conversation than their swimming.

A loud splash followed by a painful yelp got their attention. "Y/N!" Tonowari made his way over to a crouching form. Realizing you got hurt, the group quickly ran in your direction as well.

Your arm was hurting a lot. On your last try, you managed to hold onto the tsurak as it went into the water but got thrown off again when it breached the surface. But this time you didn't land in the deeper water. No, you landed on a sandbank that was barely covered by the water. Sitting up, you saw the water around you turning red from the blood that came from your arm. Your dad reached you. "Are you hurt? Oh no, it's fine. I've got you." Carefully taking your injured arm, he saw a long cut going almost all the way from your wrist to your elbow bend. Tonowari looked up, seeing Tsireya and the other kids coming your way. "Go get your mother." Tsireya nodded and turned around, heading away from the group. Tonowari picked you up and carried you over to one of the paths that were connecting the marui pods above the water. "Is she alright? What happened?" Tuk worried about you questioning her father as Tonowari walked ahead of them. After your dad set you down, Kiri came over wanting to help. "Can I help? I used to tend to our injured in the forest." Appreciating your friend's offer, you showed her your still-bleeding arm. "You should put pressure on it to stop the bleeding, it's a rather nasty cut." She pressed down hard on the wound to stop the bleeding, making you hiss in discomfort. "Sorry. There must have been a sharp stone under the water that cut me when I got thrown off." Your dad was standing next to you, still in the water, trying to comfort you by lightly stroking your back. Jake saw how all of his children cared for your well-being. They all looked worried but only Neteyam looked as if he was in pain himself when you let out the hiss.

Ronal arrived with fast steps, closely followed by Tsireya, both of them carrying various supplies. Kiri made space for your mother, letting go of your arm. "What happened? Who did this?" Your mom demanded answers. Lowering your ears in shame, you answered her quietly. "Nobody, mom...I-I fell." Assessing your wound, your mom tended to it. Jake thought it was better to leave you be for now. "Alright kids, let's go. Let Ronal do her job, come on." They all said their goodbyes and told you to get well soon. Ronal threw angry looks at her mate while tending to your wound. She smears a thick layer of ointment on your arm before wrapping it in the bandages Tsireya hands her. Satisfied with her work, she gave you a once-over to check if you needed any more treatment. Her eyes fall on your other hand, which is covered in angry red and purple lines. She takes another ointment and holds it out to you. "Here, put that on your hand every evening and every morning until the lines are gone." Still not looking at her eyes, you take the ointment from her mumbling "thanks". She lays a finger under your chin, lifting it up to look you in the eyes. She smiles at you before kissing your forehead. "You should rest now. No more physical training for at least a week. Stay out of the water as much as you can. I don't want your wound to reopen." All four of you got up and headed towards your family's marui. Tsireya follows your mom into her room, where she keeps most of her supplies. Your dad couldn't help but notice your sour mood. "What's wrong? Does it still hurt?" Looking up at him, you sigh. "Yes a little but that's not it...It still threw me off. I thought I got it...I thought I could finally do it but no, I still made the same mistakes." Not wanting your unjustified disappointment to harden, he argues: "You did great today. You learned how to ride a tsurak in the air and the water. And you managed to learn the dive. That's a lot for your first day. I told you it takes time. Nobody expected you to master it on your first day. You failed, but you stood back up. You didn't let your failure demotivate you but learned from your mistakes." Your dad's words brought a smile to your lips and while you still weren't happy about it, you couldn't deny your success. Throwing your arms around his middle, you hug him tightly. "Thank you, dad." He patted your head. "Not for that." As your mom came back into the room she ordered you to rest until dinner. Your sister came out after her, heading for the entrance of your marui. You went into your room but heard your parents hushed voices as they argued. "I told you not to be so hard on her!" your mom hissed at your father. "This was an accident! They happen. And you know that riding the tsurak isn't easy. It's not uncommon to get a few bruises, they will heal!" Your mom snarled lowly "It is our duty to protect our children, Tonowari! To make sure that they don't get hurt!" Your dad sighed. "And that's what I'm doing. But they have to make their own decisions and take their own risks. It's part of growing up to fall sometimes. Our duty is to make sure that they stand back up again." Ronal grumbled but knew that Tonowari was right.

Tsireya headed for the Sullys' marui, aware that her friends would most likely want to know how you were doing. "Tsireya!" Little Tuktirey greeted her, pulling her inside the marui by her hand. "Hey, how is Y/n doing? The cut looked bad." Kiri wondered. "The cut will take some time to heal, our mother said she can't take part in any training or much swimming for at least a week." They were all relieved to hear you were more or less ok. "Can we see her? I want to give her the gift, maybe it will make her feel better." Tuk now looked between her dad and Tsireya, wanting both of them to give her their ok. "I am afraid today wouldn't be a good idea. She is resting now and the ointment will make her tired." Jake smiled at his youngest, trying to lift up her spirits he says: "I'm sure you can see her tomorrow". Tsireya stays a little longer talking to Kiri and Lo'ak before heading back to her family's marui before dinner. "I know it didn't go that well but I gotta say, she looked totally badass riding that thing." Lo'ak broke the silence while the family was enjoying their food in the large common area. Jake chuckled at that. "Yeah, she was pretty determined. The tsurak seems pretty stubborn. She got thrown off at least ten times today but she always came back, wanting to go again. Tonowari is very proud of her." Neteyam's brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't get it. She already tamed an ikran. Why does that not count for the Metkayina's trials?" Jake had an idea but wasn't sure if he should share his thoughts since they were only that. "Well, she is the oldest of the chief's children...". That comment surprised Neytiri. "You think Tonowari will make her Olo'eyktan?" Now all his children looked at Jake curious. "Well, I don't *KNOW* that. I'm just saying it's possible. I mean, think about it. Unlike her sister, she is being trained like most warriors of the clan. Letting her travel to another clan without passing the trials is rather uncommon and means that Tonowari and Ronal must have a lot of trust in her." That left all of the Sullys deep in thought. "Hold up now, isn't Tsireya training for Tsahik? And the Tsahik is mated to the Olo'eyktan, so how would either Y/n or Ao'nung become Olo'eyktan? Also, isn't the Olo'eyktan usually a man?" Lo'ak didn't agree with his parents reasoning about how you could become Olo'eyktan. Neytiri answered her youngest son. "No child, it is the most common for the Tsahik and the Olo'eyktan to mate but a close relation like siblings isn't unheard of. It's very rare but not impossible. My father told me about one clan that once had siblings as their clan's leaders. The same goes for the sex of the Olo'eyktan. The Tayrangi people, Y/n's father's clan, have a female Olo'eyktan." Now they were all curious. "We can ask her tomorrow!" Tuk proposed. "Don't" Jake interfered. "If Tonowari didn't name her, it could come across as if you disagreed with his decision." Jake didn't want his children to cause further conflict. "It would be best if you didn't talk about that with her or Ao'nung. Or their parents." Lo'ak didn't miss that his dad left out Tsireya and neither did Kiri. The siblings shared a look, knowing that there was a way to get answers to their questions.

Next part

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writinandcrying · 2 years ago

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Dark Corner | Part 2 - Michelangelo x GN Reader

(platonic friendship to something more? who knows, not me!)

Angst. Tw hinted depression, friendship loss, harsh decisions, unrequited love, anxiety, moods swings - mainly due quarantine, and uh- acceptance? melodramatic a little bit lols (i suck at summaries pls act like this is sexy enough to seduce you to read this fic)

songs that helped me write this

Hearing Damage - Thom Yorke

Apesar de Querer - Rodrigo Alarcon

Breezeblocks - Alt J

Snap out of it - Arctic Monkeys

Why We Can’t Be Friends? - The Academic

Eventually - Tame Impala

Chp. 2 - And then it vanished

(Part 1) | (Part 3)

—————————————————————-

“Just rip the bandaid off”

The sudden sound of the weights thumping down floor woke you up for spiraling thoughts, yet, your body hadn't a single reaction out of it, it was normal to get used to abrupt, rapid movements when talking about Raphael, as he grabs his gym towel heading towards the exit, he looks back at you, even without glasses, even with the stinging sensation in the corner of your eyes due unshed tears, you can draw out a mix of angry and disappointed expression.

“If you can’t handle it, then rip the bandaid off”

And that’s what you did.

One thing you knew for sure; Your brain is a bitch. Your memory sucked ass into remembering nice moments: the sensation of kisses, the last good bone- crushing hug you had, the last time your mom said she was proud of you. But agonizing, painful memories? Those were on a loop constantly.

Every strong emotion made Raph’s eyes shine like gemstones, vivid, vibrant, now varnished with disdain, it was beautiful; you hated how you were the reason his golden irises were so gleaming and captivating.

That was 6 months ago, at least you think it was, quarantine sure proved something: time is indeed an illusion that doesn’t make sense. It seems like it was longer than that, although the pain made you grounded as it was yesterday. The last conversation you had with Raphael felt like a sore goodbye on both ends. You wish you could forget it, trick your brain into thinking it’s a happy memory so it can toss it away into the nearest trash.

Looking back at it, you should have fought back. Argued, yelled at him even. You should've made your point about how you didn’t want it to let go. But you were so tired, god- the lifeless sensation of how your body felt back then still phantoms you, it was honestly ridiculous, how a simple phrase could drag you back into the shadows back then. Or maybe you were never truly out of it, just constantly living in the dark, both hyper-aware and oblivious. You didn't know anymore- a sentence, a reaction, someone else even, those could easily remind you how dark your mind could dive, So yeah, you clearly didn’t have any more strength to fight back, who would have known that being in constant fight with your own self would be so arduous? Maybe only you will know how much it took it from you, how desperately you wanted to hold onto it. And maybe that was the problem, there was nothing to hold on to anymore.

During that night, you didn’t know how long you remained glued on the concrete ground after Red left their training room. How long you stared at the gray walls, the foundation of the lair was unsettling cold. It made you feel more isolated than ever, you found yourself unable to control random shivers traveling through your body. You felt small, pathetic. Tears quietly slid from your cheeks to the very end of your chin. You felt invisible, literally, you could identify what the lair residents were up to by your own lack of sound, vague questions and noises that made you feel even more distant and undeserving to be there. You don’t know how long you remained motionless; sitting and staring at nothing, wishing it was different, but not really sure how to change the future.

You don’t know how you managed to drag yourself to the entrance of the lair, you found yourself there at some point of the night, turning back one more time. You loved that place, even if it took ages to get used to the sewer’s damp smell, you still loved it. you have always seen it as home. Sure, it was actually an abandoned intersection of a reservoir sewage station, yet filled with bits of love. Sewer sweet sewer, In every corner, from the dōjō to any repaired piece of furniture, graffiti or neon sign, it was laced with care and devotion. A house could be made of wood, cement or bricks and it was made for shelter, a home means safety, comfort and belonging, a shelter and much more, The lair is a home. was.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you glanced at the Christmas lights above the homemade living room, you remember how you helped them place it there 2 christmas ago, the boys decided not to take it back, it gave a inviting cozy glow, which matched so gracefully with all the wonderful times you had there.

It's strange to desperately have the desire to stay and run away at the same time, pressing your lips tight, inhaling deeply- you were not going to sob your way out of it. Gripping hard at your backpack straps, you know you were going to miss how they made you feel, especially him. Dealing with the lack of it, how it became a foreigner feeling once again was one of the toughest parts during this whole fiasco of…. whatever was left remaining between the two of you, only some fond memories lingered, for a while those were the source of warmth during silent nights, but lately, it was a fuel to a abyss you could not stand being in it no more.

When your friendship with Mikey first started, you initially thought ‘that's it, that's something to treasure forever.’ How can two people be so close one day, to complete strangers in a course of some weeks still perturbs your mind and heart to this day.

Mikey wasn’t home when you arrived that day, your first intention was to talk out your last text messages, You weren’t sure how the conversation would start, or if it would even flow at all, you truly missed the times you could just talk about anything to him finding a topic to bond over was as easy as breathing air. He’d be busy. He needed to train, or out with his new friends. As usual,you were always the understanding friend, you knew everyone has their daily duties and hell, being the overbearing clingy friend? No, thank you.

You and Mikey were different, at least you thought so, it was ok to be vulnerable with him, and him to you, you shared how you always held back truly connecting with others, afraid of how dependable you could become. You’ve seen it firsthand how much that could hurt, Mikey made you feel that you could trust, that you could rely on him, and for once you believed it.

The first time you felt the unsettling vibe of not being so welcomed anymore was heart wrenching, even by now, you thought you would get used to it. It happened too many times for you to “not receive an invitation”, to be forgotten over hangouts, to being left out of jokes. You knew way too well the thin line between hanging out and being invited over pity.

That’s how you ended up talking to Raphael, maybe wasn’t the starter choice, he was a good friend, sure, but not the greatest with words. Leo and Don would have tried to understand your end at the time. but Raph was closest with Mikey. He saw how sometimes your unspoken, pitiful- whatever the hell this”friendship” is could gut his little brother. Mikey had intense feelings just like Raph, he understood him, and at the end, he would choose his side over yours.

You looked at the lair one last time, trying to preserve what you know you couldn’t have anymore: the warm welcomings, laughing until 5 in the morning, Mario Kart competitions, you name it. As you choke out a cry and walk towards the exit, what were good memories are now too painful to be felt and be remembered, although you already knew that it would haunt you constantly.

Only if you knew a certain turtle, who’s very fond of the color purple, watched and listened to it all in his lab. All of it. All 6 months of it.

Donatello’s top 5 regrets was not coming after you when you ran out crying, if he only knew this would drag into months on end, he would tackle you in a hug and tell you that you are indeed going to be missed, the time he wished to respect your privacy, looking back now, he knew it was a bad move on his end, Donnie was too used to observation and theories, that in this moment the situation needed a bit more action.

When you first befriended the turtles, there was an unspoken contract that they would track every move of you, for your safety and theirs as well.Donatello still had trackers on your personal turtle device, all of their humans friends had turtle-watches, not only for safety or rapid contact, but it also tracked vital signals, indicating any problems or disturbances about their friend's health.

So, when Donnie didn't see both of you and Mikey hanging out weekly, he didn’t think much of it, maybe you were just busy. But,when your signals started to point signs of bad nutrition, he got worried. When it showed a barely fictional human being, followed by hasty, god-awful goodbye (the courtesy of his older brother) he got obsessed with checking on you at least 4 times a week.

When your tracker suddenly shut down, he knew it was bad.

A different sound emitted from Donnie’s lab one quiet morning, a sound that if you have paid close attention, never went off before, this could have gone unnoticed because well, It’s Donnie. Every month he was working on something new, so maybe that was it, right?

By the way the second youngest flew out off the living room couch and, almost knocking Leo as he passed by, it truly showed the severity of the distinct sound.

"You have been away from your lab for 15 minutes and there's already a "situation?" Leo stood by the lab door, watching his brother's fingers work frantically while his eyes didn’t leave the monitors.

"Yes, i'm overachieving" Donnie replied, Leo cautiously approached, truth to be told, he wasn’t fond of Donnie’s lab. Sure, it was great for secret sharing, strategy talk, toaster fixing area, yes. However, the possibility that any sudden movements there might result in catastrophe made Leonardo feel uneasy to say the least. His movements were always precise inside his brother's favorite Lair spot. Don finally guided Leo's eyes with a short nod after a intrigued "So?" left his lips, a main notification wouldn't budge from the screen, your tracker wasn't on anymore.

The leader reached for his katana instinctively, ready to head towards the door. He felt a firm hand hold his bicep

"Pump the breaks, I don't think that's necessary", Leo raised a brow, Donnie was already familiar enough to understand how his brother was once again, questioning what on Earth he was on about - "I have been... monitoring them." Casting his eyes down, Don doesn't like to call it stalking, neither does his older brother, due the circumstances of their reality, they needed to keep an eye out, just to be to safe, That's what they would always say in the back of their heads. "I think they disconnected themself"

"Can you handle this?" Leo asked looking back towards the door to check if anyone was around. Donnie told him what happened that day, infuriated was a nickname for how the oldest felt after hearing about it.

Raphael didn't had any right to treat you like that, but he also knew if they argued about this, Michelangelo would find out, and the possible outcomes of it weren't pretty. He did make sure to be somewhat transparent about his knowledge over the secret quarrel, glancing towards Raphael if someone questioned your sudden dissapearance.

Truth to be told, Leo had no idea what to do. Figuring emotional, sentimental matters isn't his strong suit, and talking with Master Splinter would only raise red flags all around the situation. So they kept the situation under the rug. only if he knew what was going on between the two of you would drag it for months, he truly wished he had done something sooner.

"Yeah," Donnie remembers clearly how crushed you looked back then. Was it fair to visit you? To make you relive all those unpleasant memories?

"I hope so." His carapace met the cushion of his favorite chair followed by a drawn-out sigh as silence settled between the two brothers.

Honey colored eyes turned back into the monitors, Donnie knew briefly how you managed to get by these past months. From monitoring subway stations you caught towards work, to hijacking the local market surveillance cameras. he was glad that you were indeed getting by or so it seems. Again, he doesn't like to call it stalking. It's not like he watches you 24/7, maybe, 16/7? Weekly checkups? Just to make sure you are alright, that's what friends do, right?

Donnie felt a light hand over his shoulder, followed by a pair of sorrowful yet sympathetic Imperial blue eyes, "Tell they have been missed." A half-smile graces Leo’s features. There was mutual sentiment between them. Just because you were mainly Michelangelo's (former) best friend, doesn't mean you didn't leave a print on everyone else.

"Shall do." Donnie responds with an uncertain smile as he stares back into the monitors. Quickly gathering his gear, it was already nighttime. Soon enough they all needed to headout.

Don sneaked towards the garage entrance by Leo's guidance, he had exactly 48 minutes before patrol, he could be at your place in exactly 9 minutes and 36 seconds, 7 minutes if there was no humans luckering on closest manhole’s alleys to your place, Don lips grow thin and firm, is 38 minutes and 24 seconds is enough to cover a 6 month silence between all of you?

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(next) | (previous)

comments and feedbacks are welcomed!! and thank you @melancholysway for being so helpful into making this scenario possible!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #dark corner #giulia writes #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tcest dont interact i swear to god.#tmnt scenario #tmnt fandom #tmnt headcanons #tmnt fanfiction

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p-artsypants · 2 years ago

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No, You Go First (7)

Ao3 | FF.net

For anyone wondering and lamenting about the angst and heartbreak coming with this development, I tried to keep it light. :)

And all marriage and wedding stuff is just not going to be historically accurate. They’re helmets aren’t correct, Berk isn’t a real place, so I’m making up the lore for that topic (based on what we see in the third film).

—

A few days into her engagement to Snotlout and Astrid was ready to throw herself off a cliff.

Was that too dramatic? Or perhaps morbid?

Didn’t matter. He was just so…obnoxious.

“And I told the guy, you know what I said to him? I said you mess with the Snotster, you get the horns! That’s what I said!”

“And this was Tuffnut you were fighting with?” She drawled.

“No, that was the last story. This was a totally different guy. A guy you never would have met.”

“Right.” She smirked.

She was trying. The chief had worked so hard to get the ceremony delayed, she figured she ought to at least try to make the time worth it and attempt to fall in love with Snotlout in the meantime.

It wasn’t working, but no one could say she wasn’t trying.

She spent time with him. Time she’d normally spend with Hiccup. That was the hardest part, of course. When separating herself from Hiccup, she also separated herself from Toothless and Stormfly, and at such a critical time in her training too!

She tried not to think about that snowy afternoon in the hayloft with Hiccup either. It was for the best that she forget about him entirely.

That was easier said than done, of course. Especially as he sat at the table across from them.

“Snotlout, Astrid,” he said cordially.

“Hey Cuz! How goes the Dragon Sympathizing?” Snotlout chuckled.

‘How goes the woman stealing?’ “It’s great, thanks for asking,” Hiccup responded, bitterness in his words. He unfurled a large piece of paper in front of them. “Now, since I’m working in the forge, have design experience, and the gods apparently hate me, I’ve been assigned the task of designing your…” he sighed hard. “Your wedding home.”

Wow, the gods really did hate him.

“Oh really?” Snotlout said, with a disgusting curl to his lip. “Is that so?”

“Yes. So do you want to give me helpful input, or do you just want me to wing it?” He smoothed the blank paper out. “And don’t worry, I’ve already planned two nice sized beds in different rooms.”

“Haha,” Snotlout stuck out his tongue. He considered all of this, his mouth scrunching up. A very unused thinking face, if there ever was one. “I want a nice big basement. A place to spar and tame these bad boys,” he flexed his arms.

Hiccup didn’t comment on it, just drew a box off to the side to signify the basement landing.

“Oh, and of course, I want a giant metal ‘S’ on the front. For Snotlout!”

“Or for ‘Stupid’.” Hiccup muttered.

“Shouldn’t it be a ‘J’ for Jorgenson?” Asked Astrid.

“Or ‘Jackass’?”

“This is my house, Astrid. Not my dad’s.”

“His name starts with an S too.” She argued back.

“Okay okay,” Hiccup butted in. “Let’s talk about accessories later, once it’s built. Focus on the house.”

“Well,” said Snotlout. “Make sure the bedroom can fit the biggest bed possible.”

Both Hiccup and Astrid scoffed.

“Hey, it’s not what you think! She kicks!” Snotlout pointed at Astrid.

“I do?” She sneered. “How do you know that?”

“Yeah. Remember that camping trip we all went on last summer? Me and Tuff shared a tent, the fish boys shared a tent,” he pointed at Hiccup. “And you and Ruff shared a tent.”

Hiccup did remember the camping trip, because it was the first and last annual trip for his generation. He was supposed to share a tent with Fishlegs, but the boy took up the whole tent by himself so Hiccup had to build a lean to to sleep in. He ended up laying in poison oak and got a horrible swollen rash and got the trip canceled. Of course, that had been another blow to his popularity.

“Ruff said she had bruises for weeks from you kicking her,” Snot explained. “So I want a nice big bed. Preferably one with one of those chastity boards that I can drop if she gets too violent.”

Hiccup started laughing then.

Astrid kicked him under the table.

“Ow! I can see why you’d kick in your sleep! It’s muscle memory!”

She kicked him again.

Hiccup rubbed his sore shin and then lightly drew the main outline of the house while Snotlout and Astrid watched. He drew the area for the loft, and made a note of ‘big bed with board’.

“That’s all I care about,” said Snotlout. “Astrid’s going to be there more often since…” he attempted to whisper, though it was still full volume. “She’s the woman!”

“Thanks, Snotlout.” Astrid droned.

“Anytime. You kids have fun! I got stuff to do!” He waved with a flourish.

So Astrid was left alone with Hiccup to design her marriage home to another man. It started out awkward, but then it became kind of fun.

“Do you enjoy cooking? Would you like a dedicated kitchen area?”

“I think…if I had the space, I might try to cook more often. Mom’s teaching me to make bread, but my loaves are pretty flat.”

“Bread’s not too hard. You must be kneading it too much, or not letting it rise.”

“That’s what mom says! Wait, you know how to cook?”

“Of course! You think my dad has time to make meals with all his chiefing?”

“Hmm. I never thought of it before. I guess it makes sense.”

“Of course, I don’t always cook. We often get food from other people in the village. Mrs. Sorenson makes too much stew, or Fishlegs’ mom brings a small shepherd's pie.”

“Do you do the other chores too?” She asked.

“Like laundry and mending? Sometimes. The other ladies sometimes stop over and pick up our laundry. I assume they think ‘I might as well do theirs while I’m doing laundry’. I do all the mending though. I made this tunic!”

“Not surprising. I saw your leather working on Toothless’ tail.”

“You know, I learned to sew from Snotlout’s mom. She taught him too. Told him a man ought to know how to repair his own clothes if he can’t find a wife.”

Astrid snorted. “Are you saying Mrs. Jorgenson thought Snotlout would be single for a long time?”

“Your words.” He smirked. “How about the bathroom? You want an inside tub?”

Astrid’s eyes widened. “An inside tub? You can do that?”

“I’ll put it under the stairs, and put a grill underneath so you can have warm water.”

“Now you’re spoiling me!”

Hiccup smiled. “You should enjoy something about this marriage.”

“Pft.” She shook her head.

Together they planned out a dream home. It raised Astrid’s mood considerably. If she had to be married to a man she disliked, at least she was living in a cool house.

Astrid looked at Hiccup, a big smile on her face. It was nice to spend time with him again. If she was lucky, Snotlout would let her continue to be friends with him. Then again, jealousy might ruin that.

“I’ll take these prints to Gobber, and we’ll get to work.”

“Where’s the house going?”

“At the edge of the woods. If you’re lucky, you can sneak out to see Stormfly.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And there’s space for a stable for her when the time comes.”

“Thank you, Hiccup. That’s so cool.”

He beamed at her. “Anything for you, Milady.”

—-

They were getting away from Berk for a few days. The village thought Hiccup and Stoick were going for a father-son bonding camping trip, but really, they were going on a secret scouting mission on dragon back. The idea had been passed back and forth a few times, that maybe the reason they hadn’t been able to find the dragon’s nest with the boats was because only a dragon could find it. It was Hiccup’s thought, and he had just been able to convince his dad that a two man scouting mission was better than introducing Toothless to the tribe as a compass.

And getting away from Berk for a while would be a good distraction from Astrid.

“Remember dad, keep it light.”

“Aye lad. I was about to say the same thing.” He checked over his pack, as Hiccup peaked over.

“You don’t need the flint.”

“Oh. Right! That will be convenient.” He took it out. “I packed a knife. Are they going to be alright with that?”

“Toothless trusts you now. You can bring your hammer too, if you want.”

Stoick considered it, and decided to take it with him, just in case.

They left early in the morning, before people could see how little they were taking with them.

“You think Astrid will mind that I’m taking Stormfly?” Asked Stoick.

“I asked her, and she’s thrilled that Stormfly gets to go on the trip. The poor Nadder doesn’t get off island a lot these days.”

Stoick nodded. “Astrid’s been rather busy. She brought over some soup two nights ago.”

“She did? Why didn’t I get any?”

“You got dinner with the other men working on the house, didn’t you?”

“Yeah…I guess…was it good?”

Stoick smirked. “You want to know what Astrid’s cooking was like?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Stoick chuckled. “That you did. It tasted a lot like your mother’s cooking.”

“That good?”

“Son, your mother was known for her kind heart and good looks…not her cooking.”

Hiccup snorted.

They reached the cove, and Toothless and Stormfly started dancing around, full of energy and excited to see them.

“Hello, pretty girl,” Stoick said cautiously, petting Stormfly’s snout. “You’ve seen me a few times. I’m no Astrid, but do you think I could fly you for a while?”

Stormfly squawked and lowered herself so he could mount her. Hiccup brought over a saddle. “Here, don’t want to get a sore butt.”

“Thanks son.”

Hiccup helped him strap the saddle on, before climbing on Toothless. “You think you can handle your first solo flight being a long one?”

“Astrid seems to have whipped this Nadder into shape. As long as she cooperates with me, we’ll get along great.”

“Sometimes I think you’ve made great progress accepting the dragons, and then you say things like that.” He took off.

“What? What did I say wrong?” Stoick called back. He gave Stormfly a little pat, like Hiccup had instructed, and she took off into the air.

Once Stoick caught up to Hiccup, they started their journey in earnest.

“So,” said Hiccup. “Where are we going?”

“The raids come from the North. I think that’s where the Nest is. Hopefully as we get close, the dragons will take us right there.”

“And we’re not going to hurt them, right?”

“I’m certainly not taking the nest by myself.”

“I’m here.”

“What are you going to do to a dragon? Let them eat you so they can choke on you?”

“Ouch, but fair.”

“This is a scouting mission, first and foremost.”

Hiccup nodded, trying not to think too much about what was so uncertain. What were they going to find at the nest anyway? It was a nest, after all. Were they storing it all for winter like the Vikings did? Maybe they’d find a bunch of babies. Then he’d feel really bad.

Hiccup wanted to end the raids. But he didn’t know if he wanted to do what it took to end them.

“You’ve been busy lately,” Stoick noted. “Between studying the dragons on the island and forge work, I rarely see you.”

“I’m trying to keep busy. Besides, Snotlout and Astrid’s house isn’t going to build itself.”

“We put up houses overnight. You don’t need to work so hard on it.”

“I want it to be nice for her…and Snotlout.” He added as an afterthought.

“Should I invite some of our allied chiefs with young daughters to come and meet your acquaintance?”

Hiccup frowned. “No. And I don’t really want to talk about my love life anymore.”

“Fair enough.” Stoick gave a respectful nod. Then, after a few moments of silence, he added, “knowing Snotlout, he won’t live to see 20. You can have Astrid when she’s a widow.”

“DAD!”

They flew on and on. Conversation hadn’t been easy for them for many years, but since that fateful night before the snowfall, when Hiccup had just shot Toothless down, their relationship had started to improve. Stoick was still a Viking with years of dragon slaying under his belt. While Hiccup was a boy filled with ideas of things that were—well, not dragon slaying. Bridging the gap between the two was difficult.

So it was no surprise that they flew for an hour without a single word exchanged.

“Hmph,” Stoick grunted eventually.

“You say something, dad?”

“Just thinking,” Stoick peered over Stormfly’s side. “The ice on the sea is pretty thick. I don’t know if we could’ve gotten a ship up here even in the summer.”

“Then if we are close to the nest, it would make sense, right? Go where the ugly pink things with pointy sticks can’t go.”

“Who’re you callin’ ugly?”

“Not you, obviously. I meant all the other vikings.”

Stoick snorted. “A fair theory…if you throw out the idea of them migrating for winter.”

“Maybe they just…hunker down?”

“Perhaps.” Stoick took a compass out from his saddle bag. “We’re still heading north. I would have thought we would have reached the nest by now.”

“Do you think we’re off course?”

“Hard to tell what the right course is in the first place. We’ll go a bit further, and then take a wide loop back.”

“Looks like a bit further is fog.” Hiccup pointed.

Stoick narrowed his eyes. It sort of looked like the fog he encountered at Helheim’s gate. “Maybe we aren’t so off course after all. Let’s see if we can get above it.”

The fog was thick, and it was impossible to see the ocean below it. But it did have a top, and they rode over it like a boat in the water. The fog went on for what looked like forever, to the edge of the world. Hiccup’s heart began to beat faster, as a sense of unease settled over him. Somewhere in this fog, somewhere near, the nest of dragons laid.

Toothless’ ear flaps raised, and he course corrected suddenly, making Hiccup jolt.

“Buddy?”

Stormfly let out a squawk and likewise jolted to the right, focused on something.

“Easy girl,” Stoick said softly, but deadly serious. “I think they’ve got the trail.”

Hiccup swallowed thickly, the anticipation of discovery thundered in his veins. He had a horrible feeling that by time the reached the end of this journey, his life would be irrevocably changed, and he didn’t know if that was exciting or terrifying.

Stoick and Hiccup flew side by side, with maybe one wingspan of space between them.

They watched, with shock and awe as a figure breached the fog in front of them. A human in grotesque, animalistic armor holding a staff, rose in front of them, standing tall, proud, and unafraid.

If they were riding several hundred feet above the sea, what was he standing on?

Several deafening seconds passed before Toothless warbled.

The person swiveled quickly, startled by the sound. Hiccup could not see their face, but they clearly saw him, and tapped the staff twice. The figure sank into the fog, only to emerge quickly on the back of a huge dragon, easily twice the size of Toothless. It was orange and had two sets of wings.

“Toothless, it’s okay, it’s okay!” Hiccup quickly assured his dragon, but more to himself.

The stranger and his dragon flipped backwards and dove back into the fog.

“Wait!” Hiccup called, and urged Toothless after him.

“Hiccup!” Stoick shouted after. “I can’t keep up!”

“Stormfly’s a tracker, you’ll find me!” And he raced off, afraid to lose this stranger.

The appearance of a human filled Hiccup with all sorts of emotions. If there was a person in charge of these raids, then perhaps they could be reasoned with? They could trade instead, and Berk could learn how to train dragons like this person had!

Toothless burst through the wall of fog to find a rocky island, halfway made of giant ice spikes. Distantly, he heard his father yell. “What in the beard of Thor is that!?” Before he and Toothless dove into a cavern.

“Careful, bud!” Hiccup attempted to slow his friend down, but Toothless blasted an echoing roar down the tunnel, and proceeded to nail every twist and turn. “Wow…” Hiccup whispered, delighted to learn something new about his dragon.

How did that other dragon navigate through here?

Toothless landed in a cave. There were a few other dragons resting that perked up when they entered.

“Halt your approach, viking!” A woman’s voice called. “Your kind is not welcomed here!” Hiccup spotted her then, with the dim light shining through the ice. She was crouched up on a ledge, her dragon behind her. “This is a dragon’s sanctuary, not a killer’s playground!”

“I’m not a killer!” Hiccup protested. “I’m a friend to dragons! All I want is to bring peace between vikings and dragons.” He hopped off of Toothless. “See? This is Toothless. He’s my best friend.”

The woman used her staff to lower herself to the ground, as she slinked closer.

“We’re trying to find a way to get the dragons to stop raiding us.” He stood rigidly as the woman crept ever closer. Her movements were like a wild animal. “I just want to talk.”

“You’re so young…just a boy…” She cooed, coming closer still, and reaching a hand out towards him.

“Uh…yeah…well, I’m sixteen. I just look small.” He attempted to chuckle. “Late bloomer.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him. “...Hiccup?”

His eyes widened and he blinked several times, stunned.

The woman removed her helmet and tossed it to the side. She stepped into his personal space and caressed his face, her callous fingers trembling as she touched him.

She had vibrant green eyes, auburn hair streaked with gray, and high cheekbones.

“Should…I…know you?” Hiccup asked, extremely uncomfortable.

The woman seemed to fight for words, then eventually said, “...no.”

“You certainly seem to know me…” He desperately tried to joke as she touched his hair.

She had tears in her eyes as she kissed his forehead gently. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Okay!” Hiccup chuckled uneasily as he danced away from her. “That’s…that’s enough of that for me, thank you.”

The woman kept staring at him, a wistful smile on her face. Then her brows drew into a crease. “That man with you…?”

“Oh, that’s my dad.”

“...Stoick?”

“Yeah! He’ll catch up soon.”

She backed up, fear rolling off of her in waves. “I have to go. He can’t see me.”

“Wait wait wait,” Hiccup grabbed her arm. “You can’t leave! We need your knowledge! Dad and I are training the dragons, but the rest of the tribe still hates them. Please, we need your help!”

“Hiccup!” Stoick’s voice echoed down the tunnel. “Add to your notes! Nadder’s don’t have great night vision!” There was a clatter of rocks. “Ow! Watch it missy!”

The woman looked stricken towards the cavern entrance. “Please Hiccup, he mustn’t see me!”

“Why? Dad’s really mellowed out these last few months. I think since we’re so close to peace, he’s finally calmed down. Whatever you’re afraid of, don’t be.”

“Hiccup…” Her jaw trembled.

Hiccup knew he wasn’t that strong. This woman could break free of his hold easily, but she wasn’t trying. Was she afraid of hurting him? Hurting his feelings?

Finally, Stoick and Stormfly all but fell into the cavern, Stormfly tilting so that he fell off.

She squawked angrily at him.

“It wasn’t my idea!” He yelled back. He grumbled as he stood and dusted off his clothes. When his face raised to find his son, his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped in shock.

Hiccup got behind the woman and pushed her forward. “Go on. He won’t bite.”

As the woman turned and met Stoick’s gaze, the look on his father’s face changed to something he had never seen before. Awe? Reverence? He looked damn near tears.

“Well, go on!” The woman shouted at him. “Get ta shoutin’!” She stood a little straighter.

Stoick took off his helmet.

“I didn’t come home, afterall. All this time…never said a word about where I was. And now—”

Stoick only stepped closer, eyes riveted on her.

Hiccup watched, goosebumps running up his back. A part of him had a guess at who this was, but the rest of him denied it vehemently. After all, she was dead…

Wasn’t she?

“By the gods, Stoick! Won’t you say somethin’?”

Stoick raised a hand to her face, touching her so tenderly. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

All the fight went out of his woman, and she clutched onto Stoick as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Stoick kissed her then, tenderly. Like someone who hadn’t kissed in so long and wanted to savor it.

“D-dad?” Hiccup whispered, overcome with emotion. “Is…is she…?”

“Aye, lad.”

The tears on Valka’s face doubled as she rushed back to Hiccup and crushed him into a fierce hug. “My baby…my baby boy!”

“M-mom…Mom!” And he hugged her back, coming unraveled at the seams. All these years, and he finally had his mother. She was here. She was alive!

Stoick surrounded them and lifted them off the ground in a hug. He was laughing and weeping, so overwhelmed with emotion, it just spilled out of him.

Hiccup looked at his beautiful mother. “Let’s go home, mom.”

Valka looked much more forlorn and reserved at that. She pulled away from the boys, slowly backing away towards her dragon.

“Val…?”

“I can’t go back,” she breathed.

“Why not, love?” Stoick wasn’t accusing, just concerned.

“Hiccup said so himself, the tribe still hates dragons. I’ve lived alone, among them, for 15 years. I…I couldn’t go back to a society that hates them. And…I don’t know…” she looked at her hands. “Being away from people…it changes you. They’d hate me too.”

Hiccup looked to his dad, pleading.

“We can’t leave you here, Val. I just found you! I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I know, my darling. I don’t want to leave you…but…”

“We’re close!” Interrupted Hiccup. “I’m working on stopping the raids, that’s why we came out here. It won’t be long and then–”

“They won’t understand.” Valka said patiently. “They didn’t back then. If I return before there’s peace…it could endanger your father. He’d be a traitor. They don’t know you’ve befriended dragons, do they?”

Stoick shook his head. “It’s been our secret.”

“The cove!” Hiccup chirped. “The shack in the cove! She can live there until we get everything figured out! And you can bring—um…” He looked at the large dragon that was now examining Toothless with wise old eyes.

“Cloudjumper.”

“Cool.” He smiled. “You can bring Cloudjumper, and come and go as you want, but that way, you’ll be near, and we can see you!”

“Please Val…” Stoick begged. “That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”

Valka was quiet for a bit, mulling it over. It would be a slow start. Like stepping into water up to your knees instead of jumping right in. “Aye. It’s reasonable.”

“Then you’ll come back with us?”

Valka swallowed, and then nodded. “To the cove. For now.”

Stoick grabbed her into a tight hug and kissed her face. “Thank you! Thank you!”

Valka started giggling as she half-heartedly tried to escape. “Alright alright! Let me just pack up a few things.”

The men followed her through the caverns as she led them to her living space. It was like a balcony to an auditorium, and she led them in through the back. She had fur pelts for sleeping, a large clay pot for cooking, and other odds and ends.

The boys didn’t see any of it. In front of them, they had a perfect view of what was inside the giant ice pillar.

One dragon surrounded by hundreds more. This one singular dragon was the size of the mountain the Great Hall was built into. Not the hall itself, the mountain. It was mostly white, and had a great mane of fins from its back. Two huge tusks protruded from its mouth, big enough to wipe out the village with one swipe.

“I didn’t know dragons could get that big.” Stoick said, weakly.

“Every dragon colony has its queen, but this is the king.” Valka said proudly.

“Is this the guy causing the raids?” Hiccup asked, desperately hoping the answer was no.

“No.”

Both Hiccup and Stoick breathed a sigh of relief.

“The Bewilderbeast is a kind and benevolent alpha. But all dragons from a certain distance can hear his call, and come to worship him. It is likely how your dragons found this place.” She picked through her belongings, deciding what was worth taking with her.

“But…something like this…is causing the raids?” Hiccup pried.

“It is likely.” She bagged up some strange looking tools, only the gods knowing what they were for. “The night I was taken…” She paused and looked to the ceiling. “Cloudjumper had landed on our house. I went to protect you, Hiccup. You were just a babe. But what I saw instead…he was watching you with awe. I had expected a horrible sight, but I saw a kind and gentle creature. I don’t know why he took me. Perhaps to fulfill his task? But as we flew from Berk, he broke away from the rest, and continued north. He brought me here, and the alpha graciously let me stay.”

Cloudjumper appeared from the other wall, blocking the sight of the alpha. Toothless appeared next to him, tongue lolling out. He seemed to be having a good time.

“I can only guess that Cloudjumper is loyal to this alpha first, and whatever spell sent him to Berk…he broke from it before he could deliver me.”

Stoick rested his hands on his waist and chastised the great dragon. “You could have at least brought her back, you know!”

Cloudjumper just cocked his head, looking mildly offended.

“It’s in the past now, love.” Valka stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

But was it really? That dragon, that other alpha, was still out there. A great tyrant. Was it the size of this alpha?

Or bigger?

Valka didn’t take much with her. Some things she had made from whatever she could find she would start to pack, and then Stoick reminded her gently, “Love, I can get you actual socks made of wool,” or “darling, Hiccup is a very talented blacksmith, I’m sure he could make you a better hammer than a rock tied to a stick.” In the end, she ended up taking some armor she had made from dragon hide, and a stack of journals she had made herself from homemade parchment and leather. As Hiccup held one for her, he studied it, seeing a few doodles in the margins. It gave him a strange feeling.

He and his father had been polar opposites. He could never see much of his dad in him, besides a few physical traits like his nose.

He took after his mother. Knowing that gave him a sense of belonging. He wasn’t the only one of his kind. He wasn’t the odd one out anymore.

Before leaving, Valka made a point to say goodbye to the alpha. She spoke to him like an equal. She introduced Hiccup and Stoick, letting the beast breathe a wisp of ice onto them. She explained that she was leaving for now, but may come back to visit. Then she kissed his scales and gave him a hug.

As much as one could hug a mountain.

Stoick just stood amazed, enraptured that his wife could speak to such a creature.

Then it was time to leave.

“What’s this?” Valka’s voice came hard as she finally noticed Toothless’ tail. “A wound from the tribe?” She snarled.

“Actually…that was…my doing?” Hiccup tensed up. “It’s kinda…how we met. I knocked him down, and when I went to finish the job…” He patted Toothless’ snout, feeling that old guilt bubble up. “I couldn’t do it. I cut him free, but he couldn’t fly. So I decided to study him. I made him a new tail, and learned how to fly with him. Dad and I made a deal then. I wouldn’t go into dragon training, if I worked in the forge and tried to find a way to end the raids.”

“He did good, for a while,” Stoick rubbed Hiccup’s head. “Figured out the dragons don’t like eels–”

“Aye, reminds them of sea serpents,” Valka added, nodding like it was common knowledge.

Hiccup filed that tidbit away for later.

“So we had vikings waving eels around during raids instead of weapons. Scared the beasts right off!”

Valka laughed. “That’s a funny thought.”

Hiccup’s mouth pulled to a thin line as he admitted. “The eels are gone on migration, so the tribe is going to have to go back to weapons unless I can come up with something else…that’s why we went out. To see if we could find the nest and stop the raids.”

The pieces to the puzzle seemed to click for her then. Where Berk was, what was going on… “how long ago did this happen?”

“Ah…about a month or so before Snoggletog.” Hiccup mused.

Valka looked surprised. “That’s been six months now? It took me three years to get Cloudjumper to let me ride him!”

Hiccup tried not to feel too smug.

“Well of course!” Stoick said, smug on his behalf. “He’s our son. So he’s a genius.”

So they were just having a smug-fest, huh?

Valka smiled at both of them. “Let’s go home, my loves.”

The flight home was fascinating. While Hiccup may have trained the dragons faster, Valka still had several years of flying under her belt. She occasionally stood on Cloudjumper, but most of the time, she was climbing and jumping to sit behind Hiccup or Stoick. Like the height of a 400 foot fall didn’t scare her at all.

Hiccup supposed that it really didn’t. Cloudjumper would catch her, he was certain. Like Toothless would catch him if he fell.

Stormfly might catch Stoick with some prodding, but he didn’t want to test it.

“I never pictured you as a Nadder fan,” said Valka to her husband. “Not that I imagined you liking dragons in the first place. But if you were to appreciate one, I thought it’d be a Monstrous Nightmare.”

“Aye. Those boys are mighty impressive. Too afraid he’d light me on fire though. No, this Nadder is–she belongs to Hiccup’s friend, Astrid. Our one other dragon lover.”

“Astrid…Astrid…the Hofferson babe?”

“Oh she’s a babe, alright. Tell her, Hiccup!” Stoick laughed.

“Not funny dad,” Hiccup droned.

“Where’s the lass now?” Valka asked, missing the resentment in Hiccup’s tone.

“She’s been busy. Her parents have her in cooking and sewing lessons. And this is all a secret, so she couldn’t get away.”

“Oh, I see.” Valka nodded astutely. “You’re sixteen now, Hiccup? That’s marrying age…” She began to tease.

“Yeah, and that’s my least favorite topic. If we could steer clear of it?”

The ride back was much more animated. Hiccup told his mother all about the things he had discovered about the dragons. Valka shared her own insight, her words occasionally being garbled together into nonsense.

It quickly became apparent that she really truly hadn’t had anyone to talk to in years. Once she started talking, she went on and on, admitting things a bit too easily. Neither Stoick nor Hiccup minded, but Hiccup could picture a few judgmental vikings that would give her a hard time if they saw her now.

Eventually, they arrived at the cove.

“Oh, this is darling!” Valka cooed. She looked over the little shack with fondness.

“It’ll be a little cramped, but since the weather is nice, Toothless won’t try to get in there with you.”

“Oh we can share!” She said enthusiastically. She then spoke to Toothless, making nonsensical noises. He responded with a friendly warble, his mouth opening wide. “Retractable teeth!” She chirped, sticking head fully into Toothless’ mouth. “Amazing!” She pet his tongue.

Stoick looked quite ill.

While Valka was making herself at home, Stoick started up a fire to make dinner. “Now, all we need is some fish.”

On cue, Cloudjumper barfed up a dozen long dead fish. Toothless, wanting to be included, barfed up a half of one on Hiccup’s lap.

“Oh…thanks buddy.” Hiccup patted his nose.

“Good boy, Cloudjumper!” Valka praised, and talked to her dragon in that weird garbled language. Then she scooped up three of the slimy fish and took them over to the lake to wash the dragon saliva off.

Stoick looked even more ill. “You know…I think I have some yak jerky stored in the shed…”

The little family gathered around the fire and for the first time, ate together. Hiccup ended up trying his mother’s fish, which wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t good either, but at least it was cooked.

They sat and talked past sunset, when the cove grew dark and the only light came from the fire and the half moon.

When silence fell, and Toothless laid his head on Hiccup’s lap, Stoick started to whistle.

Hiccup found it odd, as he rarely heard the man do so.

Then he started to sing, and Valka gasped.

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne'er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you will marry me…”

Valka gazed at him, eyes shimmering with tears.

“No scorching sun

Nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey!

If you will promise me your heart

And love…” He held the note for a second, hoping that she would finish it.

And she did. “And love me for eternity

My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I've no need of mighty deeds

When I feel your arms around me.” Valka stood, holding her hands out to Stoick, and they began to dance. A dance that Hiccup had seen at weddings before, but never experienced, obviously.

“But I would bring you rings of gold

I'd even sing you poetry

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me.”

Hiccup had never heard his father so full of joy. Genuine, down to the core joy. He got goosebumps the moment he realized it was because his wife was taken. His very joy had been snuffed out, and he hadn’t been this truly happy until she was back in his arms.

“I have no use for rings of gold

I care not for your poetry

I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me.”

Hiccup watched his parents; his long lost mother, and his emotionally distant father, as they danced and batted their eyes at each other like teenagers. Their love had never left. It was always there. After 15 years, it only took a glance, and they were the same as they had been.

“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life's sorrows and delights

I'll keep your laugh inside me.”

A cold, hollow feeling swept through him. A very sad and lonely thought rattled in his mind, and interrupted the happiness he was feeling.

‘You’ll never have this,’ the traitorous voice said. And it was true. In only a few months, Astrid would be married to Snotlout. Then what? Hope his father found a good match for him? And then be stuck on the same island as her and see her miserable everyday? No. He wanted what his parents had. This intense love that transcended time. He was desperate for it, even. When Hiccup had his worst days, he’d think back to the afternoon in the hayloft, when they kissed and held each other. Sure, the kissing had been amazing, but her touch was addicting. The embrace they shared, that was so much flesh against flesh, he craved it. It was an intimacy he had never had with anyone. A connection that gnawed on his soul.

Much like his connection to Toothless, a friendship that went beyond the ability to speak…if he and Toothless had to separate, there wouldn’t be any other dragon to fill that hole. Likewise, there wouldn’t be another woman to take Astrid’s place.

Maybe in a few years, it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne'er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you will marry me!”

Stoick and Valka laughed in each other’s arms once they finished their song. They giggled and kissed and muttered sweet nothings in warm tones.

Hiccup was content to leave them in their bubble of love until Toothless let out a sad croon.

Valka and Stoick looked at Toothless, and then at Hiccup.

“Son?” Asked Stoick, concerned. “What's wrong?”

“What? Nothing, nothing!”

“You say that, but you got a waterfall on your face.”

Hiccup wiped the slew of tears from his cheeks, hoping they had been invisible in the night.

“Oh, my baby boy!” Valka cried. She rushed to him, and scooped him up to sit sideways in her lap.

Hiccup went from desolate, to confused and embarrassed. Sure he was small, but he was still 16, almost an adult, and she was holding him like a toddler. He looked at his father.

Stoick just gave a half hearted shrug and said, “just let her have this, son.”

Hiccup chose to relax, and Valka took the opportunity to comb her fingers through his hair and kiss his temple. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Momma’s here.”

Hiccup wiped his face again, making sure all those pesky tears were gone. “I’m fine, mom. Really. Just got emotional about you and dad.”

“Ah,” said Stoick with a nod. “I know what this is about.”

“It’s not anything! I was just—“

“Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III you are a terrible liar and you know it. This is about Astrid, isn’t it?”

The use of his full name made him shut up. He just gave a little nod.

“What happened?” Asked Valka. “Do I need to talk to her?”

Hiccup sighed. “No. Astrid’s engaged to Snotlout.”

“Snotlout? My nephew Snotlout?”

“Yeah.”

“Well my boy, unrequited love can be hard.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that.” Then he spilled the truth, telling her all about how Astrid was there at the beginning, when everyone thought he was just a screw up. How she had studied the dragons during training, and in turn he had given her pointers to help in the ring. How she had gotten hurt from the Nightmare and everyone had cast her out, except for him. How they rebelled and freed the dragons from the arena.

It was surprisingly easy to talk to her.

“And then…she kissed me. I think she was happy that I did what I could to help her feel better. Ever since then, we had occasionally exchanged kisses in private. We didn’t want to tell anyone right away because we both knew contracts and marriage and babies would be brought up. I don’t know if she had any deep romantic feelings for me, or just…liked me more than the other boys.” He sighed. “But Spitelout and her father bet on her fight against the Nightmare. If she lost, she’d have to marry Snotlout. It’s all been arranged. He even admitted to noticing how close Astrid and I were and decided to act quickly so Snotlout could marry well. She didn’t get a word in.” He didn’t mention anything about the hayloft. That was his little secret with Astrid. Besides, a kiss was a kiss. That’s all that mattered for the sake of the story.

“Well how do you like that!” Valka barked. “Why the little Hobblegrunt! I can’t believe he would pull this stunt! You know, your father and I were married first, even though Spitelout is older. My father kept trying to marry Spitelout off to other ladies but he refused every offer. He threw tantrums and ripped up every contract that was made. When he was 20, he brought Helga home and said he was finally ready to get married.” She shook her head. “He was seeing her the whole time. Dad could have arranged a contract for them, but Spitelout decided not to say anything. We all knew they liked each other too. Helga’s father said she wasn’t interested so dad never bothered.”

“Well, Snotlout likes her. I think that’s about it.” Hiccup shrugged.

Stoick cleared his throat. “You know that’s not it, Hiccup.”

“Dad, you’re not going to tattle, are you?”

“Tattle?” Valka chuckled.

“Oh! I’ll tell the whole sorry truth! That lout brother of yours is doing this to slight us! Apparently, I didn’t protect you, so he’s been holding a grudge for 15 years! He saw a great opportunity to embarrass us, and took it!”

“But I think Snotlout really does like Astrid, shallowly.” Hiccup added. “Two birds, one stone and all that.”

Valka scoffed with a little headshake. “Men can be so petty.”

“So…would you talk to him?” Hiccup asked, hesitating.

“Oh my darling,” she hugged him closer. “I would. For you, I would do anything. But I don’t think it’s wise right now. If I suddenly reappeared, I’d have to explain where I’d been…there would be a lot of accusations of me being a traitor, and your father could get in trouble. Spitelout might even feel more betrayed and double down. No dearest, I can’t help you.”

Hiccup sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“I know!” She perked up, a wicked grin on her face. “You should fight Snotlout! Show who’s the better mate!”

Hiccup chuckled weakly. “Except Snotlout would smear me across the arena floor. I’m the weak one here.”

“Oh. Right…well then you’ll simply need to bed her!”

Stoick choked while Hiccup froze, wide-eyed.

“It’s quite simple! Once your scent is on her, it will deter any other potential mates!”

Stoick started laughing then. “My love, these are young people, not dragons. If Astrid sleeps with Hiccup while under contract, there would be outrage, scandal! Remember? That happened to the Ivarson lass.”

“Oh,” Valka blushed. “Of course. Perhaps I’m not the best person to ask for advice now, hmm?”

“At least it’s entertaining,” Hiccup chuckled, leaning on her shoulder.

Suddenly, there was a sharp crack up above, like someone stepping on a stick.

Stormfly perked up and gave a happy little squawk.

Astrid appeared at the entrance, her axe cutting through the air like she had a grudge against breathing. “Stupid barbaric idiot! Who does he think he is, ‘3 foot massages a week’? Gah! Oh I’m massage his feet alright! With a hammer!” She then realized there was a fire going and she wasn’t alone like she thought she’d be. “Oh, you’re back…” But as she took in the sight, she realized Hiccup sat in the lap of a strange woman. “Uhhh…”

“I can explain.”

#no you go first #httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #astrid hofferson #hiccstrid

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