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simp-ly-writes · 18 days ago

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Breaking Character

─────── · · A Smosh Fanfic

Pairing: Gentleman!Boyfriend!Spencer Agnew x gn!Partner!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You try your hardest to beat Gentleman Spencer at his own game of saying increasingly outlandish comments while trying to get him to break character!

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, part social-media au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive themes, attempt at humour.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,736

─ · · A/N: Asks are closed for a little while but that you to this amazing ask was from an anon! 🫶

─────── · ·

"Hello all you lovely watchers behind the screen, now I would usually save such corse words for the bedroom but you all appear lucky at the games table tonight," you cast a smile and wink towards the camera. Adjusting your wig before taking a drag out of your long fake cigarette. Your goal today was to get your boyfriend, Spencer, to break Character today in a video.

"As you can see, I am joined by a handful of my friends, especially this special friend beside me, remind me of your name again, dear?" you ask with a slight tilt to your head as you eye Spencer form his top hat down to his suspenders.

Spencer tries to hold your look before breaking under your stare, instead turning his back to you and turning fully towards the camera. "Good-day to you all, I am a gentleman here to play quite the crass game. Monopoly: Cheaters Addition, now I believe my wife would have something to say about this, but I wouldn't remember the names of any of them!"

"Ah'll tell ya what, mister, you're staring to sound like my fifth husband, couldn't remember my name while spending quality time with me inside the room nor outside. Now that I think about it, I can't seem to remember his name... maybe I should start to remember yours, m'sure a man like you would like that~" you tease yet keep to your chair observing as Spencer rolls his shoulders and turns to face you head on in character. By the wild look in his eyes, you can tell you are getting to him and by the end of this, you would be sure to hold him in the palm of your hand (in character of course!).

Disregarding your later statement, Gentleman Spencer clears his throat before replying, "And what type of man is your fifth husband, dashing and a rich-lad I would presume for something as gorgeous as you?"

You giggle to his words, hand reaching over the table to pick your piece, "Well, how am I s'possed to know? I'm only on my fourth but I'm sure he'll be out of the picture soon. I like to think I ran him dry in more ways than one-" Spencer begins coughing again before leaning down to erupt in laughter as does the rest of the cast and crew.

"Well, If yee two are done fucking around, It is time to introduce I- Thee masterful wizard thee-self, me" Shayne introduces his character, pointed a crocked finger and eye between the two of you. You shrug, taking a drag of your cigarette.

"Do tell me dear when it is my turn next, you see games of strategy are not for people like me- right?" you coyly state to Spencer who nods his head, still not ready to go back in character as you can see him taking in deep breathes to keep himself form falling into another pit of laughter and all you can do is smile, wiggling your eyebrows for all of that to go to hell.

"And it appears that the most intelligent always wait to go last. Names Tinky-Winky and I'm here to win. Should be easy with the table we have here tough-" Amanda tries to get the game moving before you put in one last jab.

"I wouldn't be to sure about that, what did you say, Rinky-Pinky?-?

"Tinky-Winky," Amanda clarifies with an eye-roll that you match with more exaggeration "Yes, tink-wink, whatever you're called just know that I will enjoy watching you all lose."

"Whatever you say, mobster," Amanda quips before quickly going over the rules as you place your head in your hands, blowing the hair out of your face.

─────── · ·

As the game progressed into the early stages, whatever civilized conversation you all tried to ensure at the start of the game was out the window, now full-blow yelling and screaming at one another as even the staff backed away, watching as the chaos exploded through the room and you all reverted fully into character.

"HEY! You just cheated!" Tinky-Winky Amanda screamed out to you, pointing their purple-gloved mitt in your face.

"Cheated?" You faked innocence, batting your eyelashes while speaking in a high pitched tone, "I would never cheat, thats something I save for me and my husbands!" you retort, now also standing up from your seat, hands gripping the table as you lena forwards to exaggerate your point before Spencer is pulling you back down to the table.

"Now I just don't like anyone putting their hands on my without me sayin' nothin' but I do like the feel of your hands, keep me grounded would ya? I'm forgetting my manners here with this lad," you mumble to the Gentleman beside you as he blushed bright red before starting to pull his hand away, coughing and choking on a reply only for you to hold in hand in position on your arm with a wink before returning your stolen money back to the bank and starting the new round.

"Penguin man! You seem a strange and pathetic fellow..." you off-handedly comment towards Spencer as Amanda takes her turn.

"Well yes, it comes from-" Spencer begins to speak before you continue your sentence.

"...I like that in a man," your voice drops to a sultry tone, head leaning against his arm enjoying the way Spencer sputters into nervous laughter and grips your hand.

─────── · ·

You noticed just how close Spencer had come multiple times during the filming but he had yet to call for a break, you were so sure of it at the start but had yet to get back to that point besides a few blushes and loaded looks your way but you stayed determined nevertheless.

Taking a long drag from your cigarette, you imagined it casting a hard cloud around and past Spencer head as you watched him take his turn, awaiting yours next. "Remember to win," you quiped with a sarcastic tone.

"I'll keep that in mind, dear. Now do be one and let this man concentrate," he replied with a playful glare in your direction before getting a snake-eyes that would nearly bankrupt the gentleman when landing on the dumpster wizards Shayne's hotel. "Fuck!" Spencer swore, tossing his top hat behind himself in outrage.

"I think the man needs to concentrate even more, I could help you~" you tease, picking up the top hat and placing it gently back on his head. Spencer only shakes his head once the hat is firmly back on. "I'm sure my mistresses are better-suited for such works, whatever would your husband think?"

"So outrageous of you to think my husband would do the thinking..." you mumble before picking up the dice in your hand and extending your palm with them towards Spencer. "Blow on these here die would ya, doll?" you ask as Shayne yells over the table, currently in a headlock from Tinky-Winky. "I thought it was custom to get the working women to blow your dice!?"

"Well he might be no dame but you're a dime in my eyes doll," you throw back without missing a beat.

"Ah-well. I may have a dime in my money bin! They make for a leisurely swim-" the Gentlemen comes into conversation as you are quick again to come to a response, "Would ya take me for a dip sometime then? I would love to see what else ya bring to the table?"

Spencer blinks, not wanting to look you into the eyes just yet and talks towards Amanda, "You know, I really can't say for certain, but do you think it's possible they're in it for the money and not my shining personality or physical connection?

And you do not allow time for Amanda to get a word in, knowing that now more than ever will get Spencer to crack his character, "It's not the money that I have my eyes on, sugar. I heard a little something about aerodynamics and clothes that I'm looking to test, and that test seems definitely responsive..." you end with a smirk watching as Spencer stands and turns around to face the wall.

"OKAY! OKAY!" Spencer admits to defeat as you stand up and cheer, running to hug him from behind as you both sway back and forth. "I made you loose character~" you sing-song.

"Yeah, yeah you did. Good job, lovely," Spencer groans before you both are told to re-take your seats and finish the game properly. To everyone surprise the Dumpster Wizard Shayne somehow ended up winning by pulling a Angela and stealing all the money as you were celebrating your boyfriends defeat in good fun.

"There is no way you could have won, I demand a recount!" you announce, throwing all your bills to the table. "And here I thought you weren't in it for the money," Spencer teases back. "Shut up, its only an added bonus," you snakily reply only to ultimately accept your defeat.

"Well, thank you all for sitting through this shit-show. We hope you join us again-" you begin to outro. "But not again for this exactly," Spencer cuts you off and clarify as the video fades to black by the sound of all your combined laughter flooding the studio once again.

─────── · ·

🔔 Smosh Games just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

Gentleman's Rules: Cheaters Monopoly!

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 32k | 👎 7.78M subscribers 109k views 5 days ago only the politest of games... click to read more

998 Comments

username01 Spencer really out here acting all hot and flustered- simply adorable!

username43 The group of characters I never knew I needed, all we were missing was Chosen!Trevor and Angela to really round out the chaos of this episode!

username88 So in love with this Monopoly: Cheaters Edition- I never want it to end!!

username21 so... gentlemen's Just Dance when?

↳ username46 OMG YESSS, THIS HAS TO BE MADE A THING!!

username03 i love how determined (name) was to get Spencer to break character and how good he took it!

username94 really love how (name) was the one to make all of Spencers outrageous comments appear like the normal ones in comparison to theirs.

username77 Wait so i'm confused, im a new smosh fan and are these actors acting like they're dating or are they already together????

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala

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sunlightmurdock · 1 month ago

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Bonfire | MFIY (Frat Boy) Bradley

Spookweek masterlist | My Future in You masterlist

*This is set within the universe of my fic My Future in You, but can be read as a standalone (and should be tbh as it doesn’t fit the canon of that fic).

Synopsis: Keeping your pregnancy and your hookups a secret proves to be a little difficult when a tipsy Bradley finds you at his frat house’s annual autumn bonfire.

Warnings: fratboy!bradley, accidental pregnancy, pregnant!reader, seresin!reader, alcohol/bradley being drunk and affectionate, no use of y/n, flirting. WC: 0.8k

“Hey, you made it!” Red cup in hand, equally red cheeks to match, he starts toward you with mud and leaves under his Nikes and a beaming smile on his face. He smiles like that when he’s inebriated.

That’s what you’re allowed to call it — since he ‘doesn’t get drunk’.

Just as quickly as he lifts his arms, they’re thrown around you, heavy in his fleece lined denim jacket. His cold cheek bristles yours as he pushes his one hand under your unzipped coat, his fingers skirting your waist, his lips grazing your neck.

Peering around the verge of his thick, denim-padded shoulder, you catch a glimpse of your big brother deep in conversation with a few of his buddies, talking wildly with his hands, the glow of the bonfire casting amber shadows across his face.

As he pulls back, Bradley’s free hand skims across the developing roundness of your stomach. Under the thick covers of your thermal layer and college branded hoodie, he can’t really feel anything, but his fingers linger there anyway. Sprawled across your belly, protective and affectionate in one touch.

“I missed you.” He murmurs, flickering shadows casting flecks of gold across the brown in his eyes. His lips twitch, boyish and sweet as he almost smiles, flexing his fingers where they sit. “Both of you.”

As much as the smile does its best to take over your face, you wrinkle your mouth and try to twist away from him. “Don’t be stupid.”

His lips part in mock offence, dark eyes glinting with mischief as he lets you go.

“What? — I can’t be excited to see the mother of my child?”

“Weird time to start, is all.” You hit back, physically too, jabbing at his arm as you try to pass him by.

He almost sighs, hearing your boots crunch against the leaves below you and knowing that you’re about to ditch him for another night of hiding behind your friends. He wants to talk. He wants to hold you.

“Wait! — Do you… want a drink?”

You spin to face him as he does the same, glancing down at your stomach. Even he isn’t that dumb.

“No, like cocoa or something? I think we have some.”

It’s becoming a more frequent thing for your open palm to find its way to your stomach, sitting there protectively. You raise your brows at him as your fingers rests against your growing bump. “You’re going to make me a hot chocolate?”

He breaks into a smile, almost giddy as he lifts his cup and shrugs his shoulders, gulping back a quick sip. “If you want one.”

You almost tell him no; you almost do the sensible thing and turn around to find your friends, and start to enjoy this evening while ignoring him like you’re supposed to.

But, it’s a rare occasion for him to offer to make himself useful. Pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek, you think on his offer while he swishes around the drops of beer left in his cup.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

The kitchen in this place is almost always a mess, and today is no exception. An island littered with drinks and mixers, counters filled with used red solo cups. You follow him cautiously, tugging your jacket closer to your body.

He searches through the cabinets, clumsily letting doors slam as he goes until he finds what he’s looking for. “Ah, here — do you want marshmallows?”

“I want the whole works.” As he peers back to find you leaning against the wall with your arms folded and a shit-eating grin on your face, a strange feeling plucks at his heartstrings, something like butterflies in his stomach.

He smiles back, almost sheepish now, as he thinks to the long future ahead. “Noted.”

There’s something different about tonight. You don’t know what it is, and really, neither does he. He doesn’t know why tonight specifically is the night that he feels so differently, but he does know that the smile on your face as he passes you a steaming mug makes his chest feel tight.

Your lips stretch into a smile, all surprise and amusement, staring down at the mix of marshmallows and whipped cream — and M&M’s, because he didn’t have chocolate powder to dust, but had insisted on adding.

“This looks…” You shake your head softly, at a loss for words as you glance up at him. He smiles, cheeks pink. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Neither one of you is in any hurry to step back out into the cold, but you can’t hide in the kitchen all night. He follows behind you as you step out into the backyard, one hand on the small of your back as you go.

You’re not expecting for him to reach for your free hand, but he does. He guides you over to two camping chairs and all but demands that you sit with him. For the first time in a couple of months, he really talks to you.

He listens to you.

Amber flames casting flickering shadows over your face, your hands warm from the mug between them, your eyes solely on him.

He’s glad that he begged your friends to convince you to come.

#My future in you #MFIY #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #spookweek #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you

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awkward-walking-potato · 3 months ago

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Hi! I saw your post for Nightcrawler prompts, and I thought maybe some simple fluff; what might it be like to binge an adventure series (like Pirates of the Caribbean) with our beloved teleporter? Thanks bunches, and take care!

Swashbuckling with Nightcrawler

The living room lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the furniture as the closing credits of the final movie in the series rolled. A triumphant score filled the air, the kind of music that made you want to stand up, grab a sword, and declare yourself the ruler of the seas. You glanced over at Kurt—better known as Nightcrawler—his golden eyes wide with excitement, his tail twitching in sync with the music.

"Ach, what an adventure!" Kurt exclaimed, his German accent thick with enthusiasm. "The way they captured the sea, the sword fights, the danger—so exhilarating!"

You smiled, sharing his enthusiasm. "The best part was the sword fights, though," you replied. "They looked like they were having so much fun."

Kurt's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Why don't we try it for ourselves?" he suggested, his grin widening as he teleported in a puff of smoke, reappearing beside the coat rack by the door. He grabbed two umbrellas, holding one out to you with a flourish.

"Ready to duel, mein freund?" he challenged, a playful glint in his eye.

You took the umbrella, feeling the weight of it in your hand. It wasn't a real sword, but with Kurt's imagination—and his powers—it would certainly feel like one. You twirled the makeshift weapon, trying to mimic the fluid, confident movements of the pirates from the movies.

Kurt chuckled, teleporting again to the other side of the room, now perched on the back of the couch. "En garde!" he called, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished, only to reappear directly in front of you, his umbrella clashing with yours.

The sound of metal-on-metal rang out in your mind, even though you both knew it was just the swish of fabric against fabric. You parried his strike, spinning around to counter with a playful jab of your own. Kurt teleported again, this time behind you, and tapped your shoulder with the tip of his umbrella.

"Too slow!" he teased, laughing as he flipped gracefully over the coffee table.

"That's cheating, you know!" you said, laughing breathlessly as you tried to keep up with him. You could never tell where he'd reappear next; it was like fighting a phantom. The entire living room had transformed into a pirate ship—at least in your minds. The couch was the deck, the coffee table a treasure chest, and the curtains billowed like sails in the imagined sea breeze.

Kurt leaped onto the arm of the couch, balancing perfectly as he parried another one of your strikes. His teleportation made him nearly impossible to catch, but that didn't stop you from trying. The two of you were grinning like children, caught up in the sheer joy of play.

You managed to land a hit, tapping him on the side with your umbrella. "Gotcha!" you exclaimed, feeling a surge of triumph.

Kurt staggered dramatically, clutching his side as though mortally wounded. "Oh, you’ve bested me!" he cried, falling back onto the couch in an exaggerated faint. "But I shall have my revenge!"

Before you could react, he teleported again, this time appearing upside-down, hanging from the chandelier. He grinned down at you, his tail wrapped around the chain, swinging slightly as though he were dangling from a ship’s rigging.

"Are you ready for the final duel?" he asked, eyes glowing with excitement.

"Bring it on," you replied, raising your umbrella in challenge.

Kurt dropped from the chandelier, landing nimbly in front of you. The room seemed to shrink as your duel became faster, more intense, your laughter mixing with the imagined clashing of swords. He moved with a speed and agility that was almost impossible to follow, yet you found yourself matching him blow for blow, the rhythm of the fight becoming almost like a dance.

Finally, with one last, dramatic swing, you both clashed in the middle of the room, the momentum causing you to spin around and fall back onto the couch, breathless and laughing. Kurt collapsed beside you, his tail flicking lazily as he caught his breath.

"That was—amazing," you said between gasps, your heart pounding with exhilaration.

Kurt grinned, his fangs flashing in the dim light. "Ja, it was," he agreed, his voice filled with contentment. "I haven’t had that much fun in a long time."

You lay there for a moment, the remnants of your imaginary battle still playing out in your mind. The excitement slowly ebbed, leaving behind a warm, satisfied glow.

"Next time, we’ll have to make it a real adventure," Kurt said thoughtfully, his gaze distant as if imagining what that might be like. "With real swords, and maybe even a ship."

"Deal," you said, chuckling at the thought. "But you have to promise not to teleport all the time."

Kurt laughed, a soft, joyful sound that made you smile. "No promises," he replied, his tail wrapping around your arm in a gentle, friendly gesture. "After all, what’s a pirate without a few tricks up his sleeve?"

As you both settled into the comfortable silence, the night stretching out ahead of you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for moments like this. Adventures with Kurt were always full of surprises—whether they were real or imagined.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #kurt wagner #kurt wagner oneshot #kurt wagner imagine #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler one shot #nightcrawler imagine #nightcrawler

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virgoilluminati · 5 months ago

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A Match Made in England

Episode 2: New Beginnings; All things Madrid

series masterlist | previous part |next part

Episode 2

The afternoon sun filtered through billowy, ivory curtains, casting a honeyed glow across the sleek, contemporary decor of the newly inhabited apartment. The walls, painted in a tranquil shade reminiscent of the Mediterranean Sea, harmonized with the airy atmosphere fostered by wide-open windows. A gentle breeze wafted through, carrying with it a subtle hint of sea salt, enhancing the serene ambiance.

In the living room, half-unpacked boxes, adorned with labels like "books," "kitchenware," and "clothes," stood as silent witnesses to the recent move-in. Their presence added a sense of anticipation and transition to the room.

You sat perched on the edge of a plush, charcoal-gray couch, your countenance a blend of weariness from the move and determination for what lay ahead. As you glanced at the camera with a self-conscious smile, you gestured lightly towards the still-disorganized boxes. "Sorry about the mess," you quipped, your voice a mix of apology and amusement.

Levi, seated opposite you in a sleek, armless chair, responded with a warm chuckle that resonated with genuine understanding. Adjusting the lapel of his finely tailored blazer, he leaned slightly forward. "No worries at all," he reassured you, his tone as comforting as it was professional. "Ready to dive in?" He paused briefly, a subtle nod signaling the start of the conversation. "So, things have changed a lot since the last episode…"

“You could say that, yeah,” you replied with a wistful half-smile, your voice carrying a trace of nostalgia and sadness intertwined. You shifted slightly on the couch, the fabric rustling softly beneath you as you leaned forward, your hands resting loosely on your lap.

**********

Jude's hand clasped yours tightly, the warmth of his grip contrasting with the cool leather of the steering wheel he held with his other hand. His knuckles were white as he navigated the dense, chaotic Spanish traffic. He could hear your muffled cries, each one tearing at his heart, and see your body convulsing with every sharp jab of pain that racked through you.

When Jude first secured his place at Real Madrid, you both had dreamed of getting an apartment together. But practicality won over fantasy, and he found a place for himself, somewhere you could visit occasionally. It was in a secluded area, chosen more for its privacy than its proximity to conveniences, a refuge from the prying eyes of paparazzi.

It was supposed to be a sanctuary. But now, Jude cursed the distance with every passing second.

"Hang in there, love," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're almost there."

His foot tapped anxiously on the gear stick as the traffic light turned green, his eyes darting between the road and you. Normally, you masked your pain well, a stoic façade that he had learned to see through. But now, your labored breaths and desperate gasps for air betrayed the severity of your condition.

Jude glanced over at you and tried to muster a smile. "Hey, remember the time we got lost trying to find that tapas bar? We ended up in that weird puppet show instead. What was it they called it? 'El Show de los Muñecos Locos'? We couldn't stop laughing!"

You managed a weak smile, but it quickly faded as another wave of pain hit you. "Jude. J-jude, this feels different—" your voice trembled, a mixture of fear and agony.

"I know, I know. Just stay with me, yeah? It's just a couple more streets away," he responded, his voice cracking with panic as he tapped the GPS, willing the route to clear, only to face another red light.

He had never realized how many traffic lights separated his apartment from the city center until now.

"Remember the time we tried flamenco dancing?" Jude continued, desperate to keep your mind off the pain. "I stepped on your toes so many times I thought you'd never dance with me again. But you were so graceful, and I just looked like a wind-up toy having a meltdown."

"Jude, I'm sorry I didn't say anything—" you began, your voice weak.

"No, no, don't. Not yet—" he interrupted, his tone urgent. "I've still got a few more embarrassing stories up my sleeve. Like that time I tried to impress you by cooking paella and nearly burned the kitchen down. You said it tasted like 'smoky regret.'"

"I love you so much, and I guess I was scared because I hate people doting over me. But it was selfish because—"

"Stop, please," Jude said, cutting you off with a tender kiss, his lips trembling against yours. "We're going to get through this. Together."

He quickly pulled into a parking spot opposite the hospital.

"No more apologizing, alright? We need to make sure you're okay first," he said, rushing around the car to help you out.

He offered his hand, and you gripped it weakly as you made your way toward the building. The hospital's hard glass exterior mirrored your fragile state, cold and unyielding. Each step felt like a monumental effort, your legs growing weaker, every movement sending your head spinning. Jude noticed your slowing pace and immediately shouted for help in Spanish.

"¡Ayuda! ¡Necesitamos ayuda!" His voice echoed through the entrance, filled with desperation.

Confused nurses and doctors rushed over, their faces a blur as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Jude tried to hold onto you, his grip slipping as they whisked you away on a gurney. Desperation filled his voice as he asked for information in Spanish, his body aching with the loss of your touch.

"¿Adónde la llevan?" he pleaded with a young nurse who had pushed him aside. He watched helplessly as they placed you onto a hospital bed, your fragile form barely recognizable under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Tranquilo, señor. Está en buenas manos," the nurse reassured him. "¿Necesita llamar a alguien?"

Jude shook his head, tears streaming down his face as he stole one last glance at you before they took you away. "Just... take care of her. Please," he whispered, his voice breaking.

The nurse guided him to a chair, her touch gentle yet firm. "She is in the best place, sir. Do you need to phone someone?"

Jude shook his head again, sniffling as he wiped away a few stolen tears. "No, there's no one else. Just... let me know what's happening, okay?"

"We will," she promised, her eyes meeting his with understanding. "Stay here. We'll update you as soon as we can."

Jude sat down heavily, his body feeling empty without your touch. He knew you would get through this. He just prayed that you would get through it together.

*******

Back in the present, you slowly move your hands across your stomach, feeling the stitches' indentation through your summer dress.

"So, the diagnosis must have been a significant change for you."

"Yes, it was. One minute, I thought I was perfectly healthy. The next, I was left with half a colon."

When you slowly regained consciousness, the soft, steady beeping of monitors greeted you, blending with the low hum of hospital machinery. Jude's figure came into focus beside you, his eyes tired yet brimming with relief as he noticed you stirring.

"Ah, here she is. Had a nice nap, Dove?" His voice was gentle, infused with a mix of exhaustion and tenderness.

Your throat felt dry as you tried to speak. "What happened?"

"They took you into surgery," Jude explained softly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "They haven't told me much, just that they'll explain once the tests come back."

"Tests for what?" Your voice was barely a whisper, laden with concern.

"All sorts. They did a thorough investigation on you, Dove. Made sure of it." He offered you a cup of water, his touch careful and reassuring, before leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

Taking a slow sip of water, you savored the cool relief it brought. Despite the seriousness of the situation, a hint of your usual banter emerged. "What's the score?"

Jude blinked, momentarily taken aback by your question. "You can't be serious," he chuckled softly, pulling out his phone. "You just woke up from surgery and you're asking about football?"

"I never miss Arsenal games. Especially not against Chelsea. What's the score?" you insisted, managing a faint smile.

Amusement danced in Jude's eyes as he checked the score for you. "2:0 Chelsea."

"Wait, what?" You feigned surprise, your eyebrows shooting up.

"I'm kidding—2:0 Arsenal," he chuckled warmly, the worry lines on his face easing momentarily. You playfully threw a pillow at him, only to notice the IV drip attached to your hand.

"Idiot," you teased, a small smirk playing on your lips as you both shared a brief moment of light-heartedness in the midst of uncertainty.

Jude's expression softened, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I almost lost you for a minute there. I was so fucking scared. Don't think I've ever been that scared before."

"I'm sorry. For everything," you murmured, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"You were forgiven ages ago," Jude reassured you, his voice tender. "Now don't do that to me again, alright?"

"Alright," you promised softly, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you gazed at him, grateful to be alive and together.

A couple of minutes later, the door to your hospital room creaked open, and a friendly-looking doctor in scrubs entered with a warm smile.

"Hey there, I'm Dr. Martinez," she introduced herself cheerfully, flipping through your chart. "Glad to see you awake."

Jude stood up from his chair beside you, nodding gratefully. "Thanks for looking after her, doc."

Dr. Martinez nodded back, her demeanor calm and approachable. "No problem. How are you feeling now?" she asked, turning her attention to you.

"Like I got run over twice," you replied with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood despite feeling gutted inside.

"Yeah, surgeries tend to leave you feeling that way," Dr. Martinez said sympathetically, reading your chart. "So, we did the surgery and found out it's Crohn's disease. It caused extensive inflammation in your colon, which led to a blockage. That's why we had to remove a significant portion of your colon in the emergency surgery."

Your heart sank at the severity of the diagnosis. You had secretly hoped it was something simpler like appendicitis.

"Crohn's?" you said, trying to process the news. "I was hoping for something less... life-altering. Can't we just fix it and get me back on the field?"

Dr. Martinez's expression softened with empathy. "I understand, but Crohn's disease requires ongoing management. We had to take this step to prevent further complications and ensure your health."

You nodded slowly, the weight of the situation settling in. Jude squeezed your hand gently, his concern palpable.

"Now, we'll start you on medications to control the inflammation and prevent future flare-ups," Dr. Martinez continued gently, her tone serious. "Given the extent of the surgery and the nature of Crohn's, I recommend at least six months off from football to allow your body to heal properly and to adjust to the medications."

Your heart sank further at the thought of being sidelined for so long. "Six months? That's... a lot. My team..."

Jude placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Dove. Your health comes first."

"But—" you started to protest, feeling torn between your passion for football and the harsh reality of your condition.

"Listen," Jude interrupted softly yet firmly, his gaze unwavering. "We'll take this one step at a time. Right now, let's focus on getting you back to full health."

You sighed, reluctantly accepting his words. "Okay."

"Good," Dr. Martinez said with a reassuring smile. "We'll monitor your progress closely and adjust the treatment plan as needed. Our goal is to get you back on the pitch when you're ready."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and gratitude for their care. Jude leaned over to kiss your forehead gently.

"We'll get through this together," he murmured, his voice filled with determination.

And with that promise, you found solace in knowing that despite the challenges ahead, Jude's unwavering support and the medical team's expertise would guide you through this uncertain journey.

“What were you diagnosed with?”

“Crohn’s disease,” you replied calmly, the memory of those hospital days still fresh in your mind. “Which is actually more common in athletes than people first think. But because I had ignored the symptoms for too long, it caused severe inflammation in my colon, hence why I had to undergo surgery.”

“What sort of changes has this led to?”

“Well, firstly, it forced me to take a break,” you chuckled softly, though there was a hint of resignation in your voice. “I was withdrawn from the Arsenal squad within the next couple of days, doctor’s orders for at least 6 months. Then I had to break the news to the England squad, which was absolutely heart-wrenching…”

Your voice trailed off momentarily, recalling the difficult conversations and the realization that your career would be on hold indefinitely. The interviewer waited patiently, sensing the emotional weight of your words.

“It’s tough,” you continued, gathering your thoughts. “Football has been my life, and suddenly having to step away from it, especially at such a crucial time, was… devastating.”

“But it also made me reconsider my whereabouts. When I was withdrawn from the hospital, they forced me into bed rest for two weeks. It meant I was basically in Madrid constantly, and we were stuck in a one-bedroom apartment with nothing around. Jude was amazing, but we were on top of each other all day, every day.”

“Is this where I speak?” A muffled voice interrupted as Jude casually walked into the room, holding two drinks. You nodded, laughing, and gestured for him to join you, placing a cushion next to you in front of the camera.

“Yeah, like she said,” Jude chimed in with a playful grin, settling down beside you. “I’m basically a hero and all that. Such a doting boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes in mock humility before you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Nah, all jokes aside,” Jude continued with a more serious tone, “I’d been trying to get Y/N to look at apartments with me for months prior. In a way, that injury was the final step.”

“Final step for what?” Levi, the interviewer, asked with a knowing smirk. You lifted your head from Jude’s shoulder, exchanging a knowing look with him before he pulled out a pair of keys from his pocket, holding them up to the camera.

“We moved!” you both exclaimed simultaneously, sharing a smile that spoke volumes about your shared excitement.

“It was a big decision,” Jude added, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “But we needed a place that felt like home, where Y/N could recover comfortably and where we could both have some space.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a surge of gratitude for Jude’s support and the fresh start your new home represented.

“We’re closer to the city center now, which makes it easier for Y/N to get around,” Jude explained, his tone earnest. “And we’ve got more room for both of us to breathe.”

“Plus,” you added with a grin, “we’ve upgraded to a two-bedroom. So now Jude has his own space to hide from me when I get cranky.”

Jude laughed, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Hey, you’re never cranky.”

You both shared a laugh, the tension of the interview momentarily forgotten in the warmth of your shared moment.

***********

“So, how’s Madrid been treating you?” Lucy asks as you both sit outside a charming deli, tucked away from prying eyes. The café exudes a rustic charm, with ivy-clad brick walls and the inviting scent of freshly baked bread lingering in the air.

You hadn’t seen Lucy since the World Cup, and her presence brought a comforting familiarity. She looked unchanged—her tousled brunette hair and bright hazel eyes filled with genuine concern as she studied you.

“It’s been… okay,” you begin cautiously, taking a sip of your smoothie to gather your thoughts.

“Just okay?” Lucy raises an eyebrow, taking a bite of her sandwich with a knowing smile.

You chuckle softly. “Well, adjusting has been a bit challenging. I haven’t been able to explore much. The hill outside our apartment feels like a mountain sometimes,” you admit, hoping for a laugh, but Lucy’s expression remains serious, her concern palpable.

“You had major surgery, y/n,” Lucy says gently, her hand reaching out to touch yours. “It’s okay to take it slow.”

“I know,” you sigh, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “Jude’s been incredible, though. Sometimes… too much.”

Lucy nods knowingly. “He loves you, y/n. Let him take care of you.”

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “It’s just hard to let go of that independence, you know?”

Lucy smiles sympathetically. “I get it. But sometimes, letting others in doesn’t make you weak. It’s a different kind of strength.”

You take a moment to absorb her words, realizing their truth. “You’re right,” you admit, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I should appreciate what Jude is doing more.”

Lucy squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You’re stronger than you think, y/n. Remember all the challenges you’ve overcome.”

You smile gratefully, feeling a renewed sense of resolve. “Yeah, I do.”

“Exactly,” Lucy says, her gaze encouraging. “Now, how about we start that exploration of Madrid today? A little stroll through Retiro Park, perhaps?”

You glance at the bustling street beyond the café, feeling a surge of optimism. “That sounds perfect. No hills, right?”

Lucy laughs, standing up and offering you her hand. “No hills, I promise. Just a relaxing walk.”

As you walk side by side with Lucy towards Retiro Park, you feel a sense of anticipation and gratitude for her friendship and support.

Later that day, you arrived home carrying a couple of things to make dinner. You’d invited your family over for half term, and while they had all dispersed into different places in Madrid, tonight you had planned on hosting a dinner.

When you had told your parents that you had moved, it was only then that you let slip you’d also had major surgery. Hiding things was your worst habit, but it came with the territory of having a dead brother. You only told people things when it was either already sorted or deadly serious. In your case, it was sorted way before you needed to tell them.

When you told your siblings, you had severely underplayed the situation, telling them that you had been forced to take a break from football. They weren’t very surprised, aware of how hard you pushed yourself. So all in all, while your family knew of your condition, they were also shielded from the full reality.

As soon as you arrived home, you were greeted by a very sweaty Jude who had just come back from training. He often did this before games. He’d come check in on you and then go play or train in the evening with his team. As much as you loved him, that also gave you a little time in the day where you had your own space where you could pretend at least to be normal.

“Hiya, I missed you m’love,” Jude grinned, pulling you close for a quick kiss on the cheek.

“So did I,” you replied, pulling back slightly as he grabbed your arm, drawing you in for another embrace.

You wrinkled your nose at the sweat on his chest. “Ew, Jude, you’re all sweaty,” you teased lightly.

“You like it,” he smirked, stealing another kiss, moments of passion halting when you realized the time.

“Jude, I gotta start making dinner,” you managed between kisses.

“What are we having?” Jude asked, guiding you towards the kitchen.

“We?” you raised an eyebrow playfully. “Thought you’d rather be out playing football.”

“Yeah, thought I’d take the night off tonight. No games till Sunday. Besides, your family’s coming over; haven’t seen your brothers in ages.”

“Please, you just want to play with Casper,” you smirked, referencing your new baby nephew.

“It’s a definite factor,” Jude admitted with a grin before coming over to help you prep. “I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to.”

“No, it’s not that. Of course, I want you here. It’s just…” You sighed. “I may have understated how bad my condition was.”

“Y/N!”

“Just because…”

“They need to know, Y/N.”

“Wait! Okay. My mum and dad already pester me non-stop about it. My brothers literally would not leave me alone. And I don’t think I can deal with Eden passively aggressively telling me that I need to quit football.”

“But they care about you, Y/N. They wouldn’t push you.”

“My family is different to yours, Jude. We don’t like overstating things. It’s different, okay? They know enough about it that it’s not going to change an evening. Please, Jude, it’s one night.”

“Alright, alright! But the second you get tired, you gotta say.”

“Promise.”

As the evening approached, your family began to arrive one by one. Elliot and Rowan were the first to knock on the door, each holding a bottle of wine in hand. They exchanged knowing glances and grinned at you as you welcomed them inside.

“Hey, Y/N! Ready to enjoy some fine wine?” Elliot teased with a grin, holding out the bottle.

You gave him a playful look. “Tonight? I’m giving my liver a night off. Can you believe it?”

Rowan chuckled, nudging Elliot. “What have you done with our wine-loving Y/N?”

Before you could reply, footsteps descended the stairs, and Jude strolled into the room, a warm smile spreading across his face as he greeted Elliot and Rowan.

“Hey, guys, good to see you!” Jude said cheerfully, extending a hand for a handshake and pulling them into a quick bro hug.

“Jude!” Elliot exclaimed, setting the wine bottle on the table and returning the hug with enthusiasm. Rowan joined in, grinning broadly at their younger sibling’s partner.

“Good to see you too, Jude,” Rowan said with a nod, clapping him on the shoulder.

Elliot shot a teasing glance at Jude. “Planning to cook tonight, mate?”

Jude raised an eyebrow playfully. “What do you mean?”

Elliot chuckled, remembering a past culinary attempt of Jude’s. “Remember that time you tried to make beef stew and it ended up like mush?”

Jude feigned offense. “Hey, it was a learning experience! Besides, tonight is all about Y/N’s cooking.”

You laughed along with them, feeling a wave of warmth at their familiar banter. “Exactly. Let’s stick to what we know works.”

As Rowan and Elliot settled in, chatting amiably with Jude, the doorbell chimed once more, breaking the flow of conversation. You excused yourself with a smile, heading to the door to greet the next arrivals.

Opening the door revealed your sister Eden, her husband Charlie, little Bella clinging to her leg, and baby Casper peacefully dozing in his pram. Your face lit up with a bright smile as you enveloped Bella in a warm hug.

“Bella! Look how big you’ve gotten!” you exclaimed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I love that dress." You smile referring to her red Spanish flamenco costume, as she twirls around.

Eden laughed warmly, stepping inside as Charlie maneuvered the pram through the doorway. “Hey, Y/N! Sorry we’re a bit late. Took those two to the city centre and they wouldn't leave-"

“No worries at all,” you reassured them, pulling Eden into a tight embrace. “I’m just glad you had time to explore Madrid."

Charlie greeted you with a friendly nod, a smile playing on his lips. “Hey, Y/N. Thanks for having us over.”

Meanwhile, Jude knelt beside the pram, gently lifting baby Casper into his arms. The little one stirred, blinking sleepily up at Jude with wide eyes. Jude grinned down at him, making funny faces that elicited a soft giggle from Casper.

“Hey there, little man,” Jude cooed softly, cradling Casper with care. “Ready for some fun tonight?”

Charlie chuckled, watching Jude interact with his son. “Looks like Casper’s already found his favorite uncle.”

Jude winked playfully, bouncing Casper gently. “We’re going to have a blast, aren’t we?”

With Bella clinging to your side and Eden and Charlie exchanging pleasantries with Elliot and Rowan, the room buzzed with warmth and laughter. The air was filled with the sweet scent of family reunions and the joyful babbling of little ones.

Later on, as you were bustling around the kitchen, exhaustion starting to set in, Jude noticed your mum and dad arriving with desserts. He greeted them warmly at the door, juggling baby Casper in his arms.

“Hello there!” Jude grinned, adjusting his hold on Casper. “Come on in. Y/N’s in the kitchen.”

“Hi, Jude!” Your mum greeted with a smile, stepping inside with a plate of homemade pastries. “It smells wonderful in here. How’s everything going?”

“Busy as ever,” Jude chuckled, carefully handing Casper over to your mum. “But we’re managing. Casper here seems to be enjoying the attention.”

“He’s getting bigger every time we see him,” your dad remarked, placing a box of chocolates on the table. “How’s Y/N doing?"

Jude glanced at your mum briefly before answering. “She’s doing okay. You know how she is, always trying to handle everything herself.”

“Stubborn as always, she is,” your dad chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

Your mum gently bounced Casper in her arms, her expression turning more serious. “And how is her condition?”

Jude hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “It's definitely not been easy. But you know Y/N, she doesn’t like to make a fuss.”

“She’s been like that since she was little,” your mum sighed softly, exchanging a knowing glance with your dad. “Always wanting to protect everyone else.”

“She’s a fighter, that’s for sure,” Jude agreed, a note of pride in his voice. “And she’s got all of us looking out for her.”

With your mum cuddling Casper and your dad nodding in agreement, the warmth of family support filled the air. Together, they joined the gathering, adding their love and presence to the joyful atmosphere in your home.

As dinner progressed, the dining table was filled with a variety of delicious dishes prepared by you, each one meticulously crafted with care. You darted in and out of the kitchen, ensuring everyone’s plates were full and the ambiance remained lively. Jude hovered nearby, eager to lend a hand.

“Y/N, can I help with anything?” Jude asked again, his tone gentle and concerned.

You smiled gratefully, but there was a hint of tension in your voice. “Thanks, Jude, but I’ve got it covered. Just a few more dishes to bring out.”

Jude nodded, but he couldn’t ignore the weariness in your demeanor. “You’ve been running around all evening. Let me assist you.”

“I said I’m fine, Jude,” you replied tersely, your exhaustion starting to show. You hurried back into the kitchen, leaving Jude slightly taken aback.

Your siblings, Elliot and Rowan, exchanged amused glances. “Ah, classic Y/N,” Elliot remarked with a chuckle. “Always the perfectionist.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. “Remember when she insisted on redoing the entire living room decor in one weekend?”

Jude joined in their laughter, but inwardly, he felt a pang of concern. He knew your tendency to take on too much and push yourself beyond your limits.

Meanwhile, your dad, sensing the underlying tension, quietly excused himself from the table and made his way to the kitchen where you were organizing dessert.

“Hey there, kiddo,” your dad greeted you warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You turned to him with a weary smile. “Hi, Dad. How’s everything out there?”

“Everything’s great,” he replied, his eyes filled with fatherly concern. “But how are you holding up?”

You sighed, the strain of the evening starting to weigh on you. “I’m okay, just a bit tired. I wanted tonight to be special for everyone.”

“I can see that,” your dad said gently, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “But remember, you don’t have to do it all alone. We’re here to support you.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude for your dad’s understanding. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”

“You’ve always been strong-willed,” he chuckled softly, giving you a brief hug. “But even the strongest need a break sometimes. Let’s finish up here and get back to the table.”

With your dad’s reassurance, you and he finished preparing dessert together and returned to the dining room, where the rest of the family welcomed you with warmth and laughter. The evening continued with a renewed sense of camaraderie, each family member appreciating the effort you had put into making the gathering special.

As you returned to the table, the tantalizing aroma of the food filled the air, though you knew you wouldn’t be partaking in the meal. Quietly settling next to Jude, you glanced around at your siblings, Elliot and Rowan, who exchanged concerned glances, noticing your subdued demeanor.

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” Elliot asked gently, furrowing his brow with worry.

You managed a small smile, trying to divert their concern. “I’m okay, just not hungry tonight. Elliot, how’s your new project at work going?”

Elliot brightened slightly at the change of topic. “It’s been challenging, but exciting. Thanks for asking.”

Rowan grinned, sharing his latest travel aspirations. “Actually, I’m thinking of hiking in the Alps next month. Can’t wait to get back into nature.”

The conversation flowed on, shifting to lighter topics as you engaged with each sibling in turn, genuinely interested in their lives and experiences. When the subject turned to baby Casper, your attention was fully captured.

“And how’s our little troublemaker doing?” you asked, leaning in to playfully tickle Casper’s chubby cheeks. “Keeping you on your toes, Eden?”

Your sister, Eden, chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with affection. “He definitely keeps us busy, but he’s such a joy.”

The night continued with laughter and shared memories, though your siblings couldn’t help but notice your underlying weariness. They exchanged knowing looks, silently agreeing to check in with you later.

As dessert was served, your dad offered you a slice of cake with a gentle smile. “Cake, Y/N?”

You shook your head slightly, a touch of frustration crossing your face. “Still on an all-liquid diet, Dad. But thanks.”

“Of course,” he nodded understandingly, reaching for a slice for himself.

Throughout the evening, you engaged in conversations, laughed at jokes, and reveled in the warmth of family. As the night wore on, the atmosphere remained lively and supportive, each moment adding to the shared memories that made these gatherings so cherished.

Elliot and Rowan continued swapping stories, their laughter filling the cozy dining room. Elliot paused mid-sentence, casting a curious glance at you.

"Are we just going to skip over the fact that Y/N is deadly quiet?" he remarked with a playful smirk.

You managed a weak smile, grateful for the distraction. "Just enjoying the show," you replied lightly, gesturing to the lively banter around the table.

Jude, sensing your fatigue, leaned over and whispered, "You're doing great, love."

You nodded gratefully, squeezing his hand. His presence was a comfort amid the whirlwind of emotions and conversations. Jude's chocolate brown hair was slightly tousled from the day, a testament to his afternoon spent playing with Casper and helping you in the kitchen. His warm hazel eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and concern as he glanced around the table, ensuring everyone felt included.

Rowan, always the joker, leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come on, Y/N, spill the beans. What's the latest scoop in your life?"

You chuckled softly, knowing they wouldn't let you off the hook easily. "Well," you began, hesitating for a moment as you glanced at Jude for support, "you know how I said I was taking time off football?"

There was a curious pause as all eyes turned to you, waiting for your next words. Before you could continue, Eden, sitting across from you and beside Bella, raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Are you pregnant?" she asked with a teasing smile, her long brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

The question caught you off guard, and you nearly choked on your water. Beside you, Jude spluttered, clearly taken aback. The rest of the table fell into a stunned silence, waiting for your response.

"Oh your serious-"

"Well you're not eating, you aren't drinking, and you're taking months off football, you've bought a new place with a new bedroom..."

"Oh, uh, well no," you managed to say after recovering from your surprise, shaking your head in amusement. Beside you, Jude chuckled softly and put a reassuring arm around your shoulders. "Definitely not pregnant."

Laughter erupted again around the table, breaking the tension and bringing back the familiar warmth of family gatherings. You leaned into Jude's side, grateful for his support and the light-heartedness of your siblings.

"Well," you continued, taking a deep breath and deciding to share more, "I ended up needing surgery... and now I have half a colon."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Elliot burst out laughing. "Half a colon? You should ask for the other half back!"

Rowan joined in, shaking his head with a grin. "Only you could turn surgery into a punchline, Y/N."

The tension eased as laughter filled the room once more, the playful banter a familiar rhythm among siblings.

Eden, sitting across from you, watched with a furrowed brow. "Wait, surgery? Are you okay, Y/N?"

You nodded reassuringly. "Yeah, I'm okay," you said with a smile, grateful for her concern. "Just feeling a bit worn out tonight."

Jude squeezed your hand again, silently offering his support. His solid presence and understanding gaze reassured you that you were not alone in navigating the challenges of your health.

"She's a trooper," Jude added with a fond smile, his voice low and soothing.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics again, stories and jokes flowing freely as plates were cleared and dessert was served. Eden, eager to change the subject, turned to Bella who was happily chattering away about her latest adventures.

"So, Bella," Eden began, "tell us about your school play. You were amazing as the fairy!"

Bella's eyes lit up, launching into an animated description of her role, while the adults listened attentively, their attention momentarily diverted from heavier topics.

Jude glanced at you with a soft smile, a glint of pride in his hazel eyes. He knew how challenging it was for you to openly discuss your health, and tonight marked a significant step forward. His silent support spoke volumes, reassuring you that you were surrounded by love and understanding.

As the evening continued, you found yourself relaxing into the comforting rhythm of family, grateful for these moments of connection and support. Each laugh, each shared story, reaffirmed the bond that held your family together through both laughter and tears.

#fanfiction #jude bellingham #leah williamson #womens world cup #england football #englandwomensfootball #womens football #football fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #judebellingham x footballreader #jude bellingham fanfic #bellingham x reader #bellingham #footballereader #footballer x reader #football imagine

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underdark-dreams · 1 year ago

Note

I just binged all your Rolan x Tav fics on here (about to go to A03 and give kudos ❤️) and just wanted to say 😩😩 Perfect! AND! I saw you wanted suggestions! i would love to see the first interact/first meeting of Rolan and Tav from his POV if you felt inclined! No pressure! Thank you, keep up the good work! ❤️

I've grown so fond of this vague fem Tav I keep pairing with Rolan...so I hope these pronouns are ok for this request! Tav gets her name finally. (Cal and Lia also barged their way into this one in a big way)

Blades and Spells

A sanctimonious soldier isn't Rolan's idea of a good person to know, but is seems Tav is doing her damnedest to prove him wrong. The day of their first meeting at the Grove.

Tags: Fem Tav, Fluff, First Meetings, Sibling Bonding

Word Count: 4,322 [Read on AO3]

"We don't even know these people—"

"They're the closest thing we've got to kin, and you know it!"

The bright and promising midday had been punctured by a bloody ambush at the gate. Kanon was dead—a goblin booyagh's arrow and a nasty fall behind the front wall. No doubt his body was still cooling just a short walk from where the three siblings stood inside the shaded mouth of the Grove.

Their caravan's brief respite was shaken by the attack. Zevlor had retreated to strategize; the other Tieflings were on edge, a few downright panicked, the fresh tension around them only fueling the siblings’ words.

It had been weeks since he and Lia had a proper fight—Rolan felt all the pent-up anger rolling out now.

Lia stood with fists braced on her hips. "And what about the goblins? I know you're handy with a spell, Rolan, but I seriously don't fancy our chances alone on the Risen Road."

"Did you not see what just happened?" Rolan said, casting an arm behind his sister toward the gate. "That treasure-hunting idiot just led them right down on our heads. There’s bound to be more, and I don’t want us sticking around to find out how many."

"That’s all the more reason to stay!” Lia’s voice rose to match his. “These people aren't fighters, Rolan. We’d be cowards to leave. We can protect them—we should—"

“Or keep making a scene,” Cal said from the sidelines, to no one in particular. The other Tieflings had grown used to their bickering many miles ago.

Lia was undeterred. "Is this about your precious Lorroakan? Because I promise you, Rolan, he'll still be there when we finally get to Baldur's Gate."

Rolan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh of course not, why would I want to achieve my lifelong dream, see my family finally be safe and provided for along the way—"

"Don't put this on me and Cal," his sister warned. "It's all the same excuse, you'd have left these people yesterday—"

"Because they're not my kin!" Rolan practically shouted, not caring how far his voice carried. "No matter how many times you say it! I'm not going to risk all three of our lives, our futures, on people who can't seem to keep themselves alive. How do you think I'd feel if I let anything happen to you? Either of you?"

"We know, Rolan," Cal interjected, trying to bring a little understanding.

"If you care about me and my future—" Lia jabbed a sharp nail at Rolan's chest—"you won't ask me to turn my back on these people when they need our help."

As Rolan opened his mouth to respond, he caught motion in his periphery. He turned to see an unfamiliar face standing at the edge of their conversation. The stranger rested a hand on her sword pommel, looking on quietly curious at the scene.

"Yes?" Rolan snapped at her. Sticking your nose into a private conversation hardly deserved politeness.

“Wait," Cal piped up beside him. “I saw you at the gate after the goblins."

Lia was quick to follow, disagreement all but forgotten. “You fought out there just now?” She sounded practically jealous. “Sweet hells, that must have been a rush. We owe you.”

"Good timing, that’s all," the stranger replied, shifting her weight a little. From real or false modesty Rolan couldn't tell.

He finally recognized her then—the one he saw speaking with Zevlor for quite a while immediately after the attack. Judging by the flecks of wet blood on her equipment, and on that of her companions behind her, these were the surprise reinforcements he'd already heard other refugees chatting about in energetic tones.

They weren't so impressive in person. Scrappy, in Rolan's private judgment. His eyes passed over the pouting cleric, the murderous-looking Githyanki with a massive sword on her back, the elf who was glancing around himself as though trying to decide which element of his current surroundings he disliked most.

The other wizard looked sane enough, Rolan allowed. He could practically feel the ripples in the Weave all around the man's shoulders. Perhaps Rolan would have a chance at an intelligent conversation in this place after all.

As for the one in front—she smiled pleasantly at Rolan despite having just walked from a goblin ambush. That, to his mind, marked her as the most eccentric of all.

"Tav," she said, extending her sword hand. Rolan glanced down at the dark stains on her fingers.

Wasn't this hovel filthy enough? His clothes already smelled of smoke and grease from days in close quarters; he drew the line at smearing them with goblin blood.

Tav tracked his eyes, letting out an awkward laugh as she moved to wipe her palm on her pants. From beside him, Lia firmly intercepted the handshake.

"Lia. Forgive my brother, you know how wizards are about their robes." His sister's tone was light, but she shot him a look from the corner of her eye.

As if Rolan cared what some passing stranger thought of him. If he’d had his way, they wouldn't be here to have this conversation at all. But Cal introduced himself as well, looking a bit starstruck.

“Well met,” Tav told them, Rolan included. “Sorry, I know I’m interrupting.”

Perhaps sensing Rolan was about to agree, Lia jumped in. “Please. It’s a pleasure to meet people willing to risk their necks for a bunch of strangers, especially Tieflings. You all heading to Baldur’s Gate?”

“Aye. Same as you, I imagine—”

The inanity was enough to drive Rolan mad; it was like their first days on the road from Elturel all over again. He crossed his arms and zoned out as she and his sister made their meaningless smalltalk. He'd rather get his tail stepped on than do this painful getting-to-know with one more person they’d never see again.

Then he heard Lorroakan's name, and his ears perked up.

“He’s taken Rolan as an apprentice,” Cal was telling Tav proudly.

"Have you met Archmage Lorroakan?" Rolan asked her, suddenly interested in the conversation again. Tav looked at him with hesitation.

"Not personally. Gale said—" She glanced down the slope deeper into the Grove, and Rolan realized that the companions behind her had all trickled away in the short moment he hadn’t been paying attention. Seeking rest and recuperation, no doubt. "Gale was saying he's heard of him."

The human wizard, Rolan gathered. Hearing a stranger speak the archwizard’s name somehow rekindled the fire in Rolan’s chest, one he hadn’t realized had grown so low on fuel. He clenched his fist beside his robes and felt the crinkle of Lorroakan’s letter there in his pocket.

Tav was regarding him with a quizzical expression. "I mean, if an archmage that famous has an apprenticeship waiting for you…I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to move on sooner than later."

"Naturally," Rolan said, a bit stiff. It annoyed him that this newcomer could see more sense than his own siblings.

Then she continued. "But Lia's right. You three seem like you can handle yourselves, and I'm not sure the same could be said for everyone here. We'll need every fighting soul to defend against that goblin nest. Especially you—" Tav directed the comment to Rolan. "Having another Weave caster could make all the difference."

Well, so much for sense. Speaking of we and us as if they all had the same goals. A transparent tactic. Rolan wasn't sure what altruistic world Tav had waltzed out of, but he'd heard enough rousing speeches on kinship and unity from people like Zevlor to last him a lifetime. He wasn't about to listen to one from a stranger.

She was correct, however, to acknowledge the value of his skills. No one on the road here had displayed anything close to what Rolan knew he was capable of.

He glanced one more time between his siblings. The set of Lia's jaw told him her mind was well made up. Cal just looked hopeful for a resolution.

Rolan swore. "Fine. We've only taken our damn time getting here, what’s a few more days lost? If we’re lucky, we’ll reach the city with a good story, at least."

"Thank you, Rolan." Lia was meek now that she'd gotten her way.

“You must be quite skilled,” added Tav, sizing him up a bit. "To catch the eye of the Archwizard of Baldur's Gate."

Rolan didn’t miss a beat. "I am.” Cal rolled his eyes over Tav’s shoulder, but Rolan ignored him. “I’ve been manipulating the Weave since I was a child.”

“It’s true,” Lia confirmed. Still feeling guilty about winning the fight, perhaps.

“Really?” Tav broke into a grin, clearly impressed. Rolan drank in the admiration. "Good thing you're staying, then."

Behind his pride, Rolan couldn't help but feel a bit manipulated. Perhaps Tav wasn't the unsophisticated sellsword that she’d appeared at first.

"Well, I should go find the crew before they make too much trouble.” Tav was turning to leave before she paused, sheepish. “Say—don’t suppose druids keep a blacksmith around? One of those worgs’ teeth put a big scratch in my baby here.” As she spoke she looked down at the sword belted to her hip, almost like an indulgent parent.

“Dammon can fix you up,” Lia told her at once. “He’s one of us, a Tiefling. And he’s damn good. Take a left down the hill and you can’t miss him. Follow the loud noises,” she added, with a grin to match.

“Cheers,” Tav told her. “See you all later?”

The three of them watched her figure disappear deeper into the Grove.

"She stabbed a warg right up close,” Lia murmured, sounding morbidly inspired. “That’s incredible.”

Rolan scoffed at her. “Better to kill it from a distance and not damage your most valuable piece of equipment in the process.”

“Hey.” Cal glanced over to his older brother. “Did you even tell her your name?”

Rolan wasn’t concerned. “I’ll tell her later, if she’s still around.” She and her companions would remember his name soon enough—them and all of Baldur's Gate.

—

In these cramped quarters, it didn’t take long before they encountered Tav again. Her hands swung a bit awkwardly at her sides, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Her scabbard clanked empty against her greaves; presumably, Dammon was hard at work repairing her blade.

Cal and Lia practically swooped down beside her as she approached. Rolan tried to hide his scowl at their eagerness.

"Have you been around the place yet? Cal and I can show you around, if you’ve got time.”

“I’d like that,” she told them both with a genuine smile. “Perhaps later, if you’re willing? Zevlor told me about your…druid problem. I promised him I’d have a talk with Kagha.”

Who had elected her emissary? Rolan glowered. "I assure you, the druids will tell you it's a foulblood problem."

It wiped the smile from her face, and Rolan found it difficult to feel bad. She wanted to dig through other people's problems? She could get used to uncovering ugly things.

"Yes…well. I'd prefer to keep an open mind," she told him evenly. With another small comment to his brother and sister, she continued on toward the deep clearing where the druids were gathering in preparation for their rite. A place strictly off-limits for Tieflings.

Lia rounded on him. "I swear, you embarrass me worse than Cal sometimes."

Cal frowned. "Hey—"

"Because you care too much about what people think," Rolan answered his sister. "Believe me, she and her people don't care about us. Didn't you hear her little speech before? She only wants more bodies for the fight."

Internally, Rolan was still bristling at the idea that Tav had complimented and cajoled him into staying at the Grove. He didn’t truly believe that was the reason for his decision, but the fact that she’d gotten to him at all unsettled him.

“Come on.” Lia knocked her arm against his playfully, an effort at reconciliation. “I’m just saying, Rolan. It costs nothing to be a bit nicer to people around here.”

Rolan heaved a sigh. Even he was growing weary from all the bickering they’d done today, though he’d never admit that to his sister. “All right. I’ll try, if it makes you happy. But believe me—people like her look after themselves. And I intend to look after us.”

—

Tav hadn’t been in the heart of the Grove for more than ten minutes before she reappeared, practically stomping up the path from the Kagha’s inner sanctum. Apparently the emissary work wasn’t going so well. Without her sword, her hands were clenched at her sides in empty fists. Her expression was thunderous.

“Have you seen Zevlor?” She asked the three of them as she approached, bypassing the smalltalk Rolan was beginning to expect from her. He directed her back toward the carved door in the corner of the cave.

“Everything all right?” Rolan asked, curious in spite of himself.

Tav exhaled sharp through her nose. “Kagha was having a grand time interrogating a hostage. That little girl, Arabella.”

“What?” Cal’s voice rang with alarm.

“I guess she tried to steal the druids’ carving of Silvanus,” Tav told him. “The one they need for their ceremony. Her mother was nearly out of her mind…the child’s all right,” she added in haste. “Back safe with her parents now, but shaken up.”

Lia quivered with outrage at Rolan’s side. “Thank the hells you intervened.”

“Of course,” Tav replied at once, as if the situation called for nothing less. “I understand it’s the idol of their deity, but by all the gods…Kagha was ready to call her asp down on a terrified child.”

“That fucking viper."

Cal wasn’t referring to the snake; his siblings both glanced at him in surprise. He was a gentle soul, but if Cal cared about anything, it was protecting the young ones.

Tav seemed of the same mind. “There’s something about her,” she agreed with a dark look. Abruptly, she wheeled on Rolan. “What do you think?”

She sought his opinion as a wizard, he realized. All three of them were watching him, in fact, hanging on for his answer.

“Ritual magic is quite different from the Weave,” Rolan replied carefully. “Especially druidic magic. I don’t have the same feel for it. But Kagha…”

He cast his mind back to the first day their bedraggled caravan arrived in the Grove. The lot of them exhausted and bloodied after fighting off goblins and gnolls just up the road. Halsin, the massive elf who was then First Druid, squaring his shoulders above the smaller woman who somehow seemed to tower to his same height.

“She’s powerful,” Rolan decided. “Quite. Where it comes from, I couldn’t say.”

Tav was staring at him with an intensity Rolan hadn’t seen on her face yet. She looked far more intimidating than she had to him before.

But then she let out a thoughtful hum, and her features were back to their usual lightness. “I guess that’s one more reason to find this Halsin sooner rather than later.”

They all watched her take her leave toward Zevlor’s makeshift war room, the stone door sliding shut again behind her.

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon and a stiff evening breeze picked up at the cave’s entrance, Rolan and his siblings settled toward the insulated back wall of the Grove where Okta was tending hearth. Whatever the old woman had simmering in her massive cauldron smelled a bit like damp wool, but the warmth of the coals underneath was toasty and wonderful against the skin on Rolan’s face and hands.

Cal and Lia were in wistful discussion on either side of him—something about which landmarks of the city they wanted to visit first. Rolan let the feel of the conversation wash over him without hearing the words. His eyes were on the glowing coals, but his mind was also on Baldur's Gate—that and its great archwizard.

You are fortunate, young Rolan. The flourish with which Lorroakan had written his name floated through his mind's eye. Even the parchment itself was heavy and fine, almost promising of better things. Rolan’s fingers brushed the hip pocket of his robes again as if to assure himself. He still carried the letter with him everywhere, though he’d long since memorized its contents.

From behind him Rolan heard the sounds of a friendly disagreement and turned to look. Tav again. He shouldn’t be surprised; the woman seemed to be everywhere today.

Across the path, she was engaged in a polite argument with Dammon at his tent. The smith held a hand up as if refusing something. Rolan caught sight of the polished sword pommel back in her scabbard once more, and surmised that Dammon must be turning down payment for the repair job after her help at the gate today. That seemed like his chivalrous style.

Indeed, Rolan watched her tuck her leather coin purse away and offer a hand instead. Dammon accepted and shook it with a warm smile.

As he continued watching, the two struck up a friendly conversation. Rolan supposed a soldier would find much more to talk about with a smith than with an apprentice wizard. Her hand was draped at rest over her sword hilt again; that seemed to be an idle habit of hers.

He remembered the city guard back in Elturel displaying the same gesture while posted at watch, and wondered whether she might be in a similar line of work. Back in…wherever it was she hailed from.

Insipid questions that Rolan nevertheless filed away in his mind to ask her at some point. If nothing else, it would make Lia happy to see him making an effort. Being nice.

Rolan glanced again at the dark stains on her fingers. She hadn't taken time to wash and rest yet since the fight. It was all over her, goblin blood and human, small flecks of it visible on her clothing and chestplate and even on the side of her face. Didn't she find it unpleasant? It would drive him mad. But it didn't seem to concern her, and Dammon certainly didn't look bothered.

The smith said something that made her laugh then, and a dimple appeared in Tav's blood-spattered cheek.

Dammon had an easy way about him that always seemed to earn him fast friends. Right now, Rolan found he was a bit envious of the trait. He didn't intend to come off as such a prickly ass, as Lia so affectionately liked to call him—though time and again he seemed to manage it.

The constant setbacks between them and Baldur's Gate had just soured Rolan's mood in recent weeks, he told himself. His apprenticeship was all his mind could dwell on at rest, and each delay was harder to bear than the last.

But none of that was really Tav's fault. Inwardly, he could admit that Lia would have talked him into staying on her own anyway. Rolan found himself hoping that he'd made a non-terrible impression on the newcomer.

An elbow in his ribs broke his line of thought. "What?" Rolan looked around, rubbing the spot with a hand.

"I said, you're staring," Cal repeated. He and Lia were both looking at him—Rolan didn't like the expression on either face.

"Shut up," he said, though neither of them had spoken. "She's got blood all over her, who wouldn't?"

"I'm just saying." Cal put up both palms, his eyebrows raised. "From your face, you didn't seem that put off."

"Maybe she’d like to see your Thunderwave, Rolan," his sister suggested.

"You're both idiots." Rolan turned around with arms crossed, watching Okta pluck a dead chicken as though it might be interesting. The idiots on either side were not so easily deterred.

"There’s something about a woman in armor, isn't there, Cal?"

"I've always thought so." Cal leaned a forearm on Rolan's shoulder, sounding quite sincere. "Hey, you could offer to magic the bloodstains off her stuff for her. Use that presto—presti—"

"Prestidigitation," Rolan supplied, eyes still on Okta's cooking. A shockingly good idea from Cal. But it would be strange to offer that to a person he'd just met; Rolan dismissed the thought.

"She should've just taken the time to clean it herself before it all dried," Rolan said aloud. "The way her companions did, no doubt. Instead of running back and forth back here all day."

"Yeah," Lia drawled. "Saving little girls from pit vipers. What a waste of time."

“Well, only one way to find out if she’s interested.” Cal turned around and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hey, Tav—”

Rolan would have smacked the back of his brother’s head had the woman not already turned toward the sound of her name. She approached their spot near the hearth looking politely curious.

“Lia was just wondering,” Cal started in—leaving Rolan’s name out of it, a smart choice for his skull— “won’t it take a long time to get all the stains out of your armor?”

“Oh.” Tav sounded taken aback, but glanced down at herself as if just now noticing the state of her equipment. “Oh yeah, this’ll cost me a good half hour at least. And probably both my elbows,” she added with chagrin. “Damn. Got distracted by everything, I guess.”

“Because Rolan can magic it off in a second,” Lia said in a rush.

"Really?" Far from averse, she was looking at Rolan with sudden enthusiasm. "I didn’t know magic could—I mean, of course it can. I guess. Why, are you offering…?” She glanced between him and his siblings then, as if finally picking up on the strange energy between them.

Rolan felt all three pairs of eyes come to rest on him. He could hardly back out now. “If you’re interested,” he told her.

“Hells yes,” Tav laughed. “Are you kidding?”

Lia clapped her hands together softly. “Excellent. Well, since Tav’s interested—” She placed a strange emphasis on the word, one Rolan hoped only he noticed— “Cal and I should get going to set up camp. See you both later?”

“Right,” Cal agreed at once. With that, the pair of them slipped off in a few flicks of the tail.

What a couple of damned children. Rolan let out a heavy sigh; they seemed determined to try every last slip of patience he had.

Tav followed him to a spot closer to the back corner of the Grove, a bit removed from the sounds and smells. A stream of cool air seeped in from somewhere outside the walls, and Rolan breathed in gratefully. He had found it hard to concentrate in the stale surroundings of this place.

“Right.” She stood opposite him, looking a bit unsure. “How does this work, exactly?”

“Just keep still,” Rolan advised her. This would be easier if she took off the pieces of her half-plate first, but asking her to do that seemed unthinkably familiar.

She did as he directed. “Sure you’re not going to transform me into a pigeon or something? Give me wings?”

“This is the simplest spell there is, I’m not an idiot.” Rolan’s tone was irritable, but it only made her laugh. He realized that she was teasing him.

Regardless, Rolan steadied his stance and reached out to the Weave. Whether or not it was technically correct, it was the way he’d taught himself.

Breathe in—quiet each thought—feel the air above and the ground below—

Like a warm embrace from the oldest friend, the Weave flowed as a golden light into his cupped hand. Rolan formed the clear intention in his mind and guided the magic toward her.

“It tickles,” Tav said in surprise, but he could tell she was doing her best to keep still. Her eyes were squeezed shut for some reason.

Rolan blinked at her, not sure how long she had expected this to take. “You can—it’s done.”

“Really?” Tav looked across her chest and shoulders and the greaves on her legs, admiring their new shine. “Wow…neat trick, that. So you’re saying Gale’s been watching us polish our armor and weapons every night when he could just use the Weave for two seconds?”

“The manipulation does take energy,” Rolan told her, not wanting to discredit a fellow wizard while he wasn’t here to defend himself.

Her expression changed a bit. Then she reached a hand to his shoulder. “Thanks for this, Rolan. It might be simple to you, but—” She dropped her arm and cast around with a tired laugh. “Life has honestly been…kind of terrible lately. Thank you for making it better.”

Rolan felt he could stand to hear more of that story, but he doubted she'd want to tell it. “You’re welcome,” he told her instead.

It was a bit awkward traveling back through the winding Grove together toward the entrance, but it could hardly be avoided. Their camps were both in the same direction.

The night patrol were watching vigilantly from the wall; the massive carved gate raised before them as if in anticipation. Rolan stepped out into the dark, cool evening with another grateful breath.

Beside him, Tav sighed wearily. "Well, 'night. Off to enjoy my extra sleep," she said with another smile to him before she turned away.

No such easy goodnight for him, Rolan knew. He imagined Cal and Lia perching awake on their bedrolls, eager to hear what chaos or embarrassment or both their meddling had caused for him this time.

More concerning to him right now was the way his shoulder seemed to radiate where she'd placed a grateful hand before. Rolan rolled his arm a little, trying to shake the tingling warmth near his collar bone. It didn't quite work.

But perhaps he'd think about that tomorrow.

#rolan x tav #fluff #tav x rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #underdark-dreams #thegoblinwitchqueen

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mdhwrites · 8 months ago

Note

You said the arcs of certain characters in TOH have an 'Us vs. Them mentality.' I take it that's because, as you say, the narrative pins the bad qualities of certain characters on separate parties (e.g. "Amity's flaws are only because of her mom"), but would you care to elaborate further on said mentality and how it sticks out to you in TOH?

So shockingly, not really. It plays into it but I am actually inherently talking about the same sort of mentality that Belos perpetuates but back onto Luz. After all, if you look at the main cast by even mid season 2 we have a problem forming. Eda: Has lost her criminal edge, has no personal interests, is defined by being nice in a way befitting Luz's worldview. Momma Eda.

Amity: No longer is studious and hard working but instead focuses more on her girlfriend and her nerdy interests. Is also now just nice. Was only shown genuine care by Luz, instead of just trying to fulfill her nerdy desires, once she finds out Amity is into Azura.

Lilith: Has turned into a nerd and given up on any ambitions that had led to her previous actions, becoming a nice cool aunt. Only now has Luz tried to form any relationship with her (admittedly, she didn't get many chances before now).

Hunter: Has only been being given kindness because he has shown a capacity for kindness that Luz only really started showing him, beyond not wanting him to die, once he showed he had a nerdy interest in wild magic.

Gus: Was a nerd from go and always nice, even if he could be slightly selfish.

Willow: By mid S2, is essentially out of the show for the past half season, has never had a strong personality and is just nice. Yes, she'll start her jock stuff soon... And never have a real conversation with Luz again, at least not until S3 maybe? So a full season where Luz and Willow, after Willow might have stopped being nerdy/an outcast, where Luz doesn't have an interest in her anymore.

And uh, just as a reminder to S3, Hunter gains a scifi interest post redemption and Luz explicitly listens to NOTHING her mother says to her during her big speech in For the Future until she reveals herself to be a secret nerd. At that point, suddenly Luz dials in.

For TOH, a show supposedly about the individual and self expression, characters either lose their personality and/or gain the personality that matches LUZ. There is less character variety in interests and personalities than even 90s cartoons much of the time by the end of TOH because these characters all lose so much of themselves fitting in with the good guys, especially the redeemed ones.

This is where your argument for this does come into play. I'll frame it as the fandom likes to with Amity: "She didn't have Luz in her life yet."

Amity is only a bitch while she is hanging out with the wrong crowd. Socialites, those with ambition and jocks. The Luz enters her life and despite the fact that the ONE time Luz ever calls Amity out for being a bitch being when Amity is being a bully to King and clearly trying to get a rise out of Luz, making that moment meaningless, that simple fact starts warping Amity. Starts making her turn back to her good, nerdy side. And because this is such an inherently good thing, there is no difficulty in doing this. She needs no motivation, no calling out, nothing. She just needs to desire to be like Luz/liked by Luz. She can discard her entire friend group and do things that should get her disowned with how evil Odalia is and face zero consequences because... I guess that's the power of becoming a nerd.

You are beyond reproach. You can only do good. Same goes for Hunter. Despite YEARS of potential propaganda and the like, Luz just getting into his life and admittedly jabbing at Belos/him a little, is all it takes for him to embrace the inherent goodness, displayed by his nerdiness about wild magic, and start becoming a better person. For this, he loses his home but that is only seen as a positive because indeed, he got away from those hostile that made him a bad person. He could now be a good person because he no longer had those influences and could embrace Luz's way of life.

With the show's themes, why is this the case? Shouldn't their base personalities be allowed to exist? Shouldn't a wide range of ideologies and the like be allowed since that is a part of self expression? Instead, when people don't like Luz approves, they are disapproved by Luz and either need to get the fuck out or conform.

And this is all without getting into how she becomes Jesus in the last episode...

None of this is intentional but if someone told me that the show felt hostile to them because they didn't consider themselves a nerd or because they tried to get somewhere in life, I wouldn't blame them. The show has a weirdly narrow belief in who is a good person. Who is allowed to exist in the main cast, a problem that cascades issues into a lot of its themes. I mean, this is the first show I've ever had to ask if character arcs are actually hurt the themes of the show because of this, a blog I sadly couldn't refind.

There is admittedly an element of this where I might not have thought about it without the fandom. Most people I know who are multi-fandom still agree that TOH is aggressive against others, even for a fandom. That it lashes out and blames others for its problems. Almost like a *gestures at the thesis*

And that doesn't help make any of this be less uncomfortable unfortunately. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical

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maldaptivedreamer · 2 months ago

Text

Green Looks Toxic On You

Part 3

At the quarry, you find a familiar friend, Lexa. When you both get closer, Bjorn interrupts.

content: Not proofread, not entirely accurate to alien universe, maybe ooc characters, drugs/alcohol, enemies to lovers trope, Reader is flirty with a woman

wc: ~2.4k

a/n: Idk bout anyone else but titles and finding "aestheticy" pictures are a fucking struggle. Thanks for reading!

MINORS DNI NSFW 18+

Main Masterlist Next Part

Golden strings of mismatched lights drape from the rough, jagged walls of the abandoned quarry, casting a warm glow over the makeshift dance floor below. Bodies sway and move in sync with the music. The air is thick and humid, carrying the pungent scent of sweat and alcohol mixed with the earthy aroma of dirt and rocks. The occasional whiff of cigarette smoke adds a tinge of sharp acridity to the already overwhelming aroma.

Your gaze lingers on her again - Lexa's dark locks cascade over her shoulders in wild waves, they grow even more wild as she throws her head back in a throaty laugh. Thick black eyeliner frames her pretty blue eyes.

Pursing your lips with a brief frown, you glance at Bjorn across from you. Seems like you have an unfortunate weakness for blue eyes.

Sinking into the musty couch, your attention returns to Lexa as she laughs with her friends. Taking a small sip of your beer, you lean in closer to Kay's ear. "Hey, I'm gonna go talk to Lex."

She turns to face you, raising an eyebrow in response. Her tone is dry. “Yeah, you two usually do a lot of talking when you’re together.”

Chuckling, you lightly push your shoulder to hers in a nudge. “We talk plenty… But you’re right. I don’t wanna go over there to just talk.”

Navarro must have overheard because she interjects, her brown eyes glinting. Grinning, she teases. "You're not fooling anyone. We all know what talking means when it comes to you and Lexa."

You roll your eyes but can't help the smirk that tugs at your lips. "Jealous, Nav?"

She scoffs, "Please. I've got better things to do than watch you two voyeurs fumble around like horny teenagers."

Ignoring her jab, you stand up, dusting off your pants. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some talking to do."

In your peripheral, you can see his heated gaze and clenched jaw. But you ignore it.

Making your way across the quarry, you weave between dancing bodies. The bass thrums through your chest, matching the racing of your heartbeat as you approach Lexa. She sees you, her eyes locking onto yours and a slow smile spreads across her face.

"Hey there, stranger," she purrs as you sit beside her. "I was wondering when you'd come find me."

You shrug with a grin. “Thought I’d give it some time. You know, let the tension build a little.”

Grinning, she takes a drag of the joint between her fingers and you watch as it meets her lips. Smoky tendrils curl around her as she exhales and you’re reminded of the times you’d felt her lips on your own.

Nudging her, you silently gesture for the joint. A sly smirk forms on her lips. Your eyes darken with desire as she brings it back to her own mouth, inhaling deeply. Holding her breath, she leans in close and ghosts her lips over yours, teasing them with the lingering taste of smoke and her. Your heart races as she nudges you with her nose and grasps your chin, silently commanding you to part your lips.

You obey without hesitation and she exhales the smoke into your mouth, sending tingles down your spine. With dilated pupils and a burning hunger, you both come together in a slow passionate kiss.

With your hands intertwined, you gravitate closer to one other. The music and noise of the quarry fades away as you focus on each other.

Her lips brush against your ear as she whispers, "You're so hot..."

The sound of your laughter echoes as you push her away, her leather-clad shoulder slipping easily from your grip. "Oh shut up," you scoff, unable to contain the smirk that tugs at your lips. "You're one to talk."

A mischievous grin spreads across her face as she gestures over your shoulder. "Pretty boy over there certainly agrees with me," she says, a playful glint in her eyes.

Curious and amused, you follow her gesture, turning your head.

Though he’s far, still sitting with the others, Bjorn’s scowl is unmistakable. His body is rigid and he’s seething; the animosity, no doubt, directed towards you.

He moved. Must’ve taken your seat when you left.

Exhaling loudly through your nose, you roll your eyes and turn back to face her. Despite the tension that thickened the air between you and Bjorn, you choose to ignore it. You’ve been ignoring him for the past week, not caring to address his stares or his harsh muttering.

Your voice is terse and tight with anger, “Well, pretty boy can go fuck himself.”

Lexa grins as she takes another drag from the joint, her blue eyes bordered by red. Her playful tone cuts through the tension, “What’d he do now? Don’t get me wrong babe, I know he’s been a fucking asshole to you, but you’ve never avoided him like this. Well… not since you broke up.”

You scoff and briefly glance at him again. “We were never together.”

Lexa smirks and offers you the joint, “Mhm.”

Taking a drag, you sigh deeply. Smoke drifts from your lips as you talk, “All we did was flirt, we were friends. Now… we’re not? I don’t know. I dunno what the hell made him hate me so much, but...” Your voice trails off as you shake your head in frustration and take another hit from the joint.

Shrugging your shoulders, you try to shake off any thoughts about him. Thoughts that you refuse to address. Thoughts that have been weighing on your mind for a while.

"Enough about him.” Your voice is firm and slightly uncomfortable.

Taking a deep inhale from the joint, you immediately start coughing and sputtering. Lex chuckles as she takes it from you and takes her own hit. Through your coughs, you manage to say, "Alright, finish it so we can go dance."

Standing up, you pull her by the hand and glance back to see plumes of smoke escaping from her slightly parted lips. Navigating through swaying people, you guide her into the crowd.

The envious eyes that follow you go unnoticed.

You grasp her collar tightly and pull her towards you, savoring the rough texture of her worn leather jacket against your fingertips. Sliding a hand under her shirt, you rest your palm on the small of her back and nuzzle your nose into her warm skin.

Lexa's breath catches in her throat as she holds onto your hips, bringing one knee between your legs to draw you closer.

As she leans down for a quick kiss, you pay no attention to the stares from those around you, lost in the moment with Lexa. A soft moan escapes your lips as she trails kisses along your neck. You lightly run your nails over her scalp before being abruptly pulled away.

“What the fuck?!”, your angry voice causes a few glances, but they’re too drunk or high to care. You can't see his face, but the familiar dice tattoo on the back of his hand is a dead giveaway.

Fighting against the pull of him, Bjorn’s angry face comes into view. "Can we talk?" he demands.

Frowning, you look at Lexa with her swollen pink lips and let out a frustrated whine. “Now?”

His frown intensifies as he grits out, “Yes, now.”

Rolling your neck, you groan and shove his hand off. You feel Bjorn tense behind you as you move to her and lean into her ear, “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Giving him a smirk, she gives your lips a light peck and loudly responds, “Sure, I'll be here when you're done.” Leaning in, she whispers in your ear with a grin, still staring over your shoulder. “Not together my ass. Make him beg babe.”

You give her a skeptical look before reluctantly laughing and some of your anger subsides. Stepping away from her, you catch the hateful look on Bjorn's face intensifying before he turns away.

The pulsing music fades, becoming a distant hum, as you follow Bjorn away from the crowd. He leads you to a secluded area near the quarry's edge. The cool night air hits your flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat of bodies pressed together moments ago.

He stops abruptly and turns to face you, his blue eyes darkened with anger. For a moment, neither of you speak, the tension between you thick. The moonlight casts long shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his face and the furrow of his brow.

"What do you want, Bjorn?" you finally ask, crossing your arms defensively. The irritation in your voice is palpable.

He runs a hand over his face, a gesture you've seen countless times before when he's frustrated. "Wha' are you doin’?" he asks, his voice low and tight.

You raise an eyebrow and pause, your mind moving slowly as it processes his question. "Dancing? Having fun? Not that it's any of your business."

Bjorn scoffs and nods mockingly, scratching under his chin. “Right, alrigh'…” Releasing a large breath, he faces you. "Listen, 'm sorry I was an asshole," he declares. "‘M sorry I said that you were selfish and 'm sorry I hurt you."

Examining his face, you can see the genuine regret etched into his features. Pursing your lips thoughtfully, you speak skeptically, "You called me a shit friend too," you remind him. "You've consistently been an asshole. Why apologize now?" The sound of your own voice surprises you with its coolness, betraying none of the emotions swirling inside of you.

“‘M apologizin’ cause you’d been avoiding everyone this past week cause of wha’ I did. An’ cause I realized tha’ I hurt you.”

You nod and shrug, “I didn’t avoid them, I avoided you. I still hung out with them, just not while you were there. I spent time with them because I’m not a shit friend.”

Covering his mouth with his hand, Bjorn scoffs under his breath.

Narrowing your eyes, your voice is sharp with sarcasm, “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? You were in the middle of apologizing right? Orrrrr, am I being fucked with?”

Bjorn pauses and angrily smacks his lips together, “’M sorry I was an asshole and tha' I called you selfish.”

You wait for more, silently raising your brows and wave your hand in a motion for him to continue. Bjorn simply stares at you with a glare.

Scoffing, you throw your head back and look at the sky for a brief moment. Looking for patience or strength, you’re not sure.

Facing him, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and put your hands on your hips. Nodding with a pursed frown, your voice is curt, “Alright , got it. Apology not accepted and don’t interrupt me for your bullshit again.”

Pushing past him, you move to leave but he catches your arm.

"Wait," Bjorn says, his grip firm but not painful. "‘M not done."

You turn back to face him, frustration evident in your features. "What else could you possibly have to say?"

He takes a deep breath, his blue eyes searching yours. "I do no’ like you hangin’ round with her."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with implications. You blink, caught off guard.

"You what?" you say, disbelief coloring your tone. "Are you trying to tell me to stay away from Lexa?"

Bjorn's jaw clenches, and you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. "She’s… she’s not good… for you," he finally says, his voice low. In shock, you don’t respond.

Your cackles of disbelief finally break the silence between you, but it adds to the tension. You gasp out, a shocked smile on your face, “I cannot fucking believe that you stopped me for this shit. Are you fucking kidding me?”

Letting loose a giggle, you wipe a tear. Bjorn is practically grinding his teeth together as his pale face flushes, in both embarrassment and anger.

You speak through a smile, “That’s gotta be the funniest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said babe. I mean, c’mon now… The fucking audacity and disillusioned confidence you have to have to say that…”

Humming, your voice is condescending, “Bjorn, I want you look me in the eyes when I say this sweetheart…” Tilting your head, his blue eyes are locked with yours, “You… do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Nobody but me can do that.”

Releasing a breath of astonished laughter, you continue, “Excuse me, is allowed to do that.”

Giving him a glare, you turn to walk home. You manage to make it a few feet from the quarry entrance before you hear rushed, angry footsteps behind you. “Where’re you goin’?”

Sighing through your nose. Your voice is terse. “Home. You ruined the fun I was having, so I’m leaving. Happy?”

You spin on your heel to leave, but Bjorn's rough grasp catches your arm once again. Jerking your arm out of his grasp, you whip around to face him with fire in your eyes as you hiss out, “Stop fucking doing that!”

He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, but still follows closely behind you.

He scoffs, taking note of your tense posture and clenched fists. “Do you really not have anything to say? No apologies for the shit you’ve said to me?”

Not pausing, you quicken your strides. “The only thing I’m sorry for is not fucking ignoring you to get fucked by Lex.”

Bjorn's voice is choked with emotion and it makes you falter in your steps, but you refuse to stop. “What about the shit you’ve done? Or not done?”

You remain silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Bjorn's shuffling feet come to a halt behind you. “Was any of it ever real? Did you ever care? Or were you always a fake backstabbing bitch.” His words hang in the air, heavy with accusation and pain.

Whipping around, you rush to him, voice incredulous. “What the fuck does-”

A loud alarm interrupts you. Chests heaving in anger, you both observe the flashing siren pole. An automated voice plays over the blaring siren. Severe rain approaching. Seek shelter immediately.

Groaning, you pull at your hair in frustration.

The ominous clouds loom on the horizon, casting a foreboding shadow over the already dark and dreary sky. As you take in your surroundings, you realize how far you've walked in your frustrated state.

You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you recognize familiar landmarks. Unconsciously, you reach for his hand. It's warm and engulfs your own.

Determination sets in as you tightly clasp his hand. He follows behind you wordlessly. "I know a shelter not too far from here," you announce, your voice steady despite the storm that rages within both your heart and the sky above.

#bjorn x reader #bjorn alien romulus x reader #alien romulus #alien: romulus #bjorn alien romulus #alien romulus fanfic #alien romulus x reader #spike fearn

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soaked4mk · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do Reiko (MK1) and the reader (who is also in the Outworld army) having a knife throwing contest? (You can choose if it’s platonic or romantic and who wins)

Reiko x Reader fluff

👽: I chose a super light flirty theme :) I’m not really good with reiko so bare with me here 💀🫶🏼 (not proof read)

⚠️: None really

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

★ In the secluded training grounds nestled within the heart of Outworld, you and Reiko engage in a private knife throwing contest, the rhythmic thud of blades hitting their targets echoing in the crisp air. Surrounded by the rugged landscape, the tension between you two crackles like lightning, fueled by the competitive spirit that drives each throw.

★ Reiko, usually composed, finds himself strangely drawn to your presence. His stoic facade begins to falter under the weight of your charm, his eyes lingering on the graceful arc of your movements and the sparkle in your gaze. Despite his attempts to maintain focus, his thoughts stray to the alluring figure before him, his heart racing with a mix of companionship and something more profound.

★ As the contest progresses, playful banter and teasing jabs punctuate the air between you, each exchange laced with an underlying flirtation that neither of you can ignore.

★"You call that a throw? I've seen toddlers with better aim," you jest, a smirk playing on your lips as you effortlessly land another bullseye.

★ Reiko chuckles, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes. "Careful, Y/N. Don't let your confidence get the best of you," he retorts, his tone teasing yet tinged with genuine admiration.

★ You share a knowing look, the air thick with unspoken tension as you trade playful barbs and competitive banter. Despite the intensity of the contest, there's an undeniable connection between you, a magnetic pull that draws you closer with each throw.

★"Impressive," Reiko concedes, his voice low and husky as he watches you sink another blade into the target. "But we’re just getting started."

★ You grin, a flicker of challenge in your eyes. "Bring it on, Reiko. I'm not backing down anytime soon."

★ As the contest continues, the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training grounds. With each throw, the bond between you deepens, forged through the shared thrill of competition and the electric spark that ignites between you.

★ Reiko's gaze softens, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're quite skilled, Y/N. It's refreshing to find someone who can match my prowess."

★ You feel a rush of warmth at his words, a sense of camaraderie mingled with a growing attraction. "Likewise, Reiko. It's not often I meet someone who can keep up."

★ As the contest draws to a close and the winner is declared, a charged silence envelops the training grounds. With a knowing look exchanged between you, the air crackles with anticipation, the promise of future encounters laden with flirtatious exchanges and stolen glances.

★"Looks like I win this time," you remark, a playful glint in your eyes—seeing as your knives were more on target.

★ Reiko's gaze twinkles with amusement. "Perhaps," he concedes, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge. “We should do this more often—to better my aim of course…”

★ “Oh right—to better your aim.” you echo back, a small grin curling onto your lips teasingly. “But of course…”

★ As you both agree to practice more together, the bond between you deepens, forged through the shared thrill of competition and the undeniable chemistry that simmers beneath the surface.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk reiko #reiko #mk1 reiko #reiko x reader #rainyworx #rainyanswers #writing #fanfiction #mortal kombat fandom

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inkmonster21 · 3 months ago

Text

Hearts Across the Divide

16.) Trapped

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

Noa pulls and prying at the metal bars. His hand is blistering, and his arms are weak, but he doesn’t stop. His groans of exhaustion and desperation ring through the camp.

Loui speaks up, his voice filled with a despairing tone. "We're not getting out of here," he declares, the reality of their predicament settling in. The finality of his words hangs heavily in the air, casting a shadow over the small group. The realization that they're trapped – no hope, no escape – hits hard, a sense of helplessness washing over everyone in the cage.

Noa's voice cuts through the despair, a spark of determination flaring within him. "Yes, we are," he counters firmly. There's an ironclad resolve in his tone, a refusal to accept defeat. Despite the dire circumstances, Noa clings to an unwavering belief that they will find a way out.

Loui responds with a cynical chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "No wonder she gave everything away for you," he remarks sarcastically. There's a hint of bitterness in his voice, a thinly veiled jab at Noa's devotion. The implication hangs heavy in the air, stirring up tensions within the group.

Noa turns towards Loui, his expression hardening into a scowl. The sarcasm does not escape him, and it only serves to stoke the flame of his anger. Noa's eyes narrow, the tension between the two chimps growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

Loui's voice fills with sarcastic bitterness as he continues to taunt. "Always dreaming… always with her nose in a book… here you are… playing the hero… trying to save her. A perfect match… aren’t you?" Loui's words are laced with resentment, the barb cutting deep into Noa's heart. The group is on edge, the tension palpable.

Noa's face contorts with anger, the hurt from Loui's words stinging deep. He struggles to keep his voice steady as he responds, "You don't know… what you are talking about!"

Loui shoots back, his voice laced with anger and blame. "This is all her fault! Both of you... should have known better!" The accusation in his tone is clear, his frustration overflowing.

Noa's anger flares, his patience reaching its limit. "Don't DARE blame her!" he snaps, his voice rising in volume.

Noa's eyes flare, his temper flaring further as Loui challenges him. "Or what, Noa?" The words hang heavy in the air, a gauntlet thrown down. Noa's muscles tense, his fists clenching as he glares back at Loui. The silence in the cage is thick with anticipation, as the two simians stand off, their conflict reaching a breaking point.

Noa can no longer contain his anger and lunges towards Loui. With a powerful charge, he rams into Loui, knocking him off balance and sending both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The other chimps in the cage watching in shocked silence, the brawl happening so suddenly.

The two chimpanzees struggle on the ground, their bodies writhing as they try to gain the upper hand in their heated fight. Noa's anger has boiled over, fueling his struggle against Loui.

A sudden shock of cold water hits Noa and Loui, drenching them and breaking up their struggle. Noa gasps as the cold water washes over him, the fight between him and Loui suddenly coming to a halt. Both chimps splutter, taken off guard by the unexpected and sudden shower.

A human stands outside the cage, holding an empty bucket. His tone is firm and authoritative as he barks out, "Quit the damn fighting." The unexpected intervention and cold water seem to have quelled the tension, at least for the moment.

Sunrise breaks in the camp, its warm rays illuminating the area with a soft, golden light. You exit your tent, your fatigue is evident in your movements, but a sense of curiosity gnawing at you.

Your mind is troubled, still reeling from the events of the night before. The memory of the kiss from the ape lingers in your thoughts. You can't shake the feeling of its unexpected intensity, leaving you conflicted and dazed.

As you move through the camp, going through your usual tasks, your eyes fall upon the six apes in the cage. A pang of sympathy and concern washes over you as you observe the captured chimpanzees. The sight of their confinement is a stark reminder of the situation you find yourself in.

You meet the gaze of the ape, his eyes holding yours. A jolt of recognition and realization floods through you, the memory of his unexpected kiss still fresh in your mind. His eyes hold a warm intensity, sending a shiver down your spine. The tingle of excitement mixes with the lingering doubt within you.

The ape's gaze locks with yours, the connection between you undeniable. The memory of the kiss resurfaces, sending a shiver down your spine. Yet doubt lingers, adding a sense of unease to your swirling emotions. You try to shake it off, resuming your tasks in the camp, but the chimp's intense look follows you, leaving you increasingly conflicted.

Jack approaches you, drawing your attention away from the chimp in the cage. His presence momentarily distracts you from the ape's intense gaze.

Jack addresses you, his voice cutting through your thoughts. "Hey, you want to head out soon?" His question snaps you out of your current stupor. You gather your thoughts and answer, “Yeah, sure.”

You remember your previous agreement to patrol the camp with Jack today. Proximus suggested that exploring familiar places might help jog your memory and possibly cure your amnesia. This seems logical given that places can hold strong connections to specific memories.

You stay behind Jack as you walk beside him, your footsteps crunching on the ground below. Your mind drifts to the chimp in the cage, the feeling of his gaze on you intense and impossible to shake. Despite your efforts to focus on the task at hand, something about the chimp's unwavering stare keeps drawing your attention.

Noa watches silently as you follow Jack, a mix of emotions within him. His gaze follows your every step, his eyes locked on you until you disappear from view. The sight of you leaving with Jack, the human male, fills him with a conflicted mixture of worry and regret.

Noa experiences a tangle of emotions as he watches you walk away with Jack. Frustration, insecurity, and regret intermingle within him. He is unable to shake the feeling of powerlessness and a deep ache of longing. Noa wishes he could join you, protect you, and be by your side. But instead, he remains trapped, his gaze filled with a mixture of anger, helplessness, and heartache.

Proximus approaches the cage where the six apes are held captive. His presence casts a shadow over the group, their eyes following his movements with a mix of hostility and resignation.

Soona and Keli remain under Anaya's protective embrace, while Teko and Loui stand in front of the group with defiance. Noa, a fierce determination in his gaze, steps closer to the bars, his intense eyes fixed on Proximus.

Proximus motions to a male, the same one who had drenched them in water before, indicating to the seed-filled bucket. Rudy opens the cage gate just long enough to spill the seeds inside. Proximus smirks, his voice mocking as he addresses Noa, "I am... a generous king." The mocking tone grates on Noa's nerves, his eyes flash at the insult.

Noa meets Proximus's gaze with a steely glare, his voice filled with a dangerous edge. "You will be... a dead king." The words hang in the air, a promise and a warning, as Noa's eyes burn with determination and defiance.

Proximus responds to Noa's threat with a booming laugh, the sound echoing through the camp. The laughter only seems to stoke Noa's anger further, his rage and frustration feeding off the mocking response.

Noa's reaction is swift and impulsive, seizing Proximus by the head and forcefully ramming him into the bars of the cage. The impact is forceful and loud, eliciting a gasp from some nearby humans and apes alike. Noa's adrenaline and fury drive his actions, his emotions getting the best of him in this heated moment.

The unexpected attack leaves Proximus reeling, blood trickling from a cut above his brow. He staggers back, taken off guard by Noa's sudden display of violence. The humans nearby scramble, their shock giving way to a mixture of disbelief and alarm.

Despite the pain and surprise from Noa's attack, Proximus musters a menacing chuckle. His voice holds a chilling certainty as he asserts, "You... will learn, Noa." The threat behind his words is ominous, a promise of further consequences for Noa's defiance.

Proximus gives a cold order, his voice low and dangerous. "Trank him." The command hangs in the air, leaving no room for doubt or disobedience.

Rudy lifts his tranquilizer gun, his aim steady as he fires the dart straight through the bars of the cage. The tranquilizer dart pierces Noa's arm, delivering the sedative into his system in an instant.

The effects of the tranquilizer dart take immediate hold, causing Noa to sway on his feet. He stumbles backward, his body growing heavy and sluggish as the tranquilizer begins to take effect. He attempts to stay upright, but the drug is too powerful, and he succumbs to the sedative.

Proximus turns his gaze on the other apes in the cage, his smirk widening as he addresses them. "See what happens?" The message is clear: disobedience and rebellion will not be tolerated. The tone is both a warning and a show of dominance, as Proximus revels in the moment of triumph over Noa's defiance.

The other apes remain silent, their eyes fixed on Proximus with a mix of fear and resentment. They are too intimidated to challenge him, well aware of the consequences that would likely follow.

Proximus turns to his left, motioning for two apes from his loyal following to step forward. His voice is commanding as he issues the order. "Take this one... lock him up alone." The apes obey without question, moving swiftly to Noa's fallen form and lifting him off the ground.

You continue your patrol through the woods alongside Jack, your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. The surroundings feel foreign and unfamiliar, the woods failing to spark any sense of recognition for you. You navigate the dense foliage in silence, the quiet broken only by the occasional tweet of a nearby bird or the rustle of leaves underfoot.

Your mind drifts to the moment of the unexpected kiss, the memory replaying in your mind. It is the only thing that seems familiar, a fleeting yet powerful sensation that beckons to the locked recesses of your memory. You struggle to make sense of this strange feeling, wondering why this one encounter feels so significant when everything else seems like a blurry haze.

Jack breaks the silence, his voice cutting through your thoughts. "Are you feeling better today?" His question catches you off guard, causing you to snap back to reality. You ponder his question for a moment, considering how to respond.

Your response is honest. "I..." you begin, but the words trail off as you consider your situation. "Not really," you finally admit, your tone reflecting the truth of your circumstance. Nothing had improved, and if anything, things seemed to have grown more complicated and distressing.

Jack nods understandingly, his expression sympathetic. He knows your memory loss is a difficult obstacle to contend with. "I’m sorry to hear that," he replies, his voice gentle yet filled with concern.

Jack tenderly picks a flower from the ground, the petals soft and delicate. He hands it to you with a gentle smile, the gesture small yet significant. "Here," he says, his voice softer than usual. You accept the flower, your fingers gently wrapping around the stem. The touch of the petals is light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world around you. "Thank you," you say quietly, touched by the simple yet thoughtful gesture.

The next stop on your patrol route leads you to a beautiful lake. The water is still, the surface reflecting the surrounding trees like a mirror. The sight is serene, a small oasis of tranquility in the otherwise chaotic world.

You gaze at the water of the lake, a pang of desire within you. It has been a long since you had a proper bath, and the idea of washing away the accumulated dirt and sweat is quite appealing.

Jack's voice interrupts your thoughts, a small smile on his face. "You want to go in?" He gestures towards the lake as if reading your mind. The suggestion is tempting, a chance to cool off and freshen up. You respond with a nod and a smile. The idea of bathing in the cool waters of the lake is too enticing to resist. Jack notices your eagerness and chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction.

Jack swiftly peels off his shirt, followed by his pants, revealing his bare upper torso. Your eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected sight, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Quickly, you turn away, your heart beating faster in your chest. It takes a moment for you to regain your composure.

Jack's chuckle breaks the tense moment, his voice light and playful. "Come on, now. It's nothing you haven't seen before," he teases, a sly grin on his face. Your cheeks feel hot with embarrassment, but his carefree attitude helps dispel some of the awkwardness.

Your mind ponders his statement, trying to discern the truth in his words. Have you seen a man bare-chested before? The memory dances just out of reach, a frustratingly elusive fragment of your past. The image is distasteful.

You tentatively dip your toes into the water of the lake, the warmth enveloping your skin. The sensation is soothing, a welcome contrast to the hot and humid days of late summer. The sun is still bright in the sky, but the end of the season is evident, a subtle coolness in the air signaling the approach of autumn.

You take a step further into the water, the cool liquid licking at your ankles and then your legs. The sensation is refreshing, a small sigh escaping your lips as the water soaks into your dress, causing the fabric to cling to your body.

You fully submerge your upper body in the water, letting the liquid envelop you. You take this opportunity to wash your hair and scrub your skin, relishing the chance to feel clean once again. The water gently laps at your skin, cleaning away the dirt and grime of the past several days.

Jack stands nearby, a small smile playing on his lips as he watches you bathe in the lake. His gaze is warm and amused, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in the water. The situation feels oddly intimate, the proximity of his gaze sending a flutter of emotions through you.

Jack moves through the water, approaching you with leisurely strokes. His body cuts through the water with ease, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with each movement. As he nears you, the water laps at your sides, the movement causing small ripples to spread out in all directions.

Jack stops a few feet away from you, his smile widening as he takes in the sight of you in the water. The distance between you feels charged with a sense of intimacy and vulnerability. His eyes roam over your water-soaked dress, the fabric clinging to your frame, emphasizing your curves.

“You look…” Jack trails off, his voice low and rough. His eyes continue to roam over you, taking in the sight of your wet hair and clinging dress. The expression on his face is a mix of admiration and desire, his usual casual demeanor replaced by something more intense. “Beautiful,” he finally finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. The word hangs in the air, a simple yet powerful declaration. The way he looks at you, the longing in his eyes, betrays his true feelings.

You feel a mix of emotions stir within you at his words. A flutter of pleasure at the compliment tinged with a hint of embarrassment and uncertainty. The situation seems to have shifted from a moment of playful banter to something more serious, more real. The weight of Jack's gaze and the vulnerability of your situation in the water create a strange and intoxicating mix.

A sense of wrongness settles over you as you grapple with the emotions swirling within. The pleasure at Jack's compliment is tainted by a sense of guilt and discomfort. Your heart burns with uncertainty and something else, a feeling that this moment, as intimate and charged as it is, doesn't feel entirely right. Your head shakes involuntarily as if trying to deny or reject the conflicting feelings inside.

Jack reaches out, his hand moving through the water to gently take hold of yours. The touch is gentle yet firm, a silent plea for connection. His fingers wrap around yours, his palm feeling warm and rough against your skin. Jack's grip tightens slightly as he pulls you closer, closing the distance between your bodies. The water laps around you both, the ripples created by your combined movement a subtle reminder of the situation you find yourselves in. His gaze remains fixed on you, searching for any sign of reciprocation or rejection.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand moves down instinctively, tracing a path along the smooth expanse of Jack's bare chest. The sensation of his warm, wet skin under your fingertips sends a jolt through you, mixing with the strange mixture of emotions already coursing through your mind. You can feel the hard plane of his muscles, the strength, and power just beneath the surface.

Jack's skin responds to your touch, his body tensing slightly in response. His breath hitches, the sound barely perceptible above the gentle lapping of the water around you. He remains still, allowing you to explore the planes and contours of his chest, almost as if he's holding his breath.

Jack leans down, closing the distance between you, his head moving towards yours with deliberate slowness. The anticipation hangs in the air, suspended like the ripples on the water's surface. His eyes hold yours for a moment longer, a mixture of hesitation and longing, before he finally cups your chin and captures your lips in a tender, tentative kiss.

The kiss is soft and gentle, a cautious exploration of the connection between you. Jack's lips move against yours carefully, his fingers caressing your skin as if you were a precious and fragile thing. The sensation is both familiar and unfamiliar, stirring feelings and memories that are just beyond your reach.

You grapple with the unfamiliar feeling and fragments of memories that float just out of reach. The touch of Jack's lips, the gentle caress of his fingers, trigger something within you, a sense of familiarity and a hint of familiarity. But as hard as you search your mind, the source of these feelings remains elusive, just beyond the grasp of your conscious thought.

You slowly pull away from the kiss, your words breaking the moment of intimacy and connection. "We should get back soon," you say quietly, a note of finality in your voice. Jack's expression falters for a moment at your words, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he turns his face into a neutral mask.

Jack nods in agreement, silently acknowledging your suggestion to return. You wring out the water from your soaked dress, the fabric clinging even more tightly to your body as a result. Jack quickly dresses himself, his movements swift and efficient, covering up the expanse of his bare torso once more.

You and Jack continue the rest of the patrol in a heavy silence. The once-comfortable atmosphere is now tainted by an awkward tension that hangs in the air like a thick fog. The distance between you feels both immense and stifling at the same time, the unspoken words and emotions weighing heavily on both of your minds.

The cold air seems to cut through the fabric of your damp dress, and you let out a small shiver, your body reacting to the temperature change. Jack notices the motion, his gaze flickering over your shivering frame with a frown.

Jack notices your shiver and immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in a gesture of warmth and comfort. "We've got some extra pants and shirts from a whole bag of women's clothes," he says, referring to the cache of clothes his camp had found. The thought of a change of dry clothes is comforting, especially as you feel the chill seep into your bones.

You respond with a grateful nod, expressing your agreement. The thought of changing into dry, warm clothes is appealing, a welcome relief from the damp and cold of your current attire.

Jack guides you towards the camp, his arm still around your shoulders in a protective manner, shielding you from the worst of the chill.

As you pass through the camp, your attention is caught by a small cage tucked away in the corner. Within, you see an ape, his face contorted in a scowl, staring fixedly at the ground. The sight is disconcerting and pitiful, the animal's discontentment evident in his demeanor.

As you follow Jack into a nearby tent, you are unaware of the intense emotions that the caged ape is experiencing. Noa looks up as you pass by, his eyes tracking your every movement. The anger and jealousy that churn within his chest are palpable, a stark contrast to the calm and collected demeanor he typically strives to maintain.

As you exit the tent, fresh and clean in your new clothes, Noa's eyes remain fixated on you. His body tenses as he takes in the sight of you, clothed in new human garments. The thought of another male witnessing your unclothed form fuels the anger and jealousy that already burn within him. Noa's mind begins to race with thoughts of violence and retribution, his primal instincts taking over.

You smile warmly at Jack, gratitude clear in your expression. "I'll see you at dinner,” you say, bidding him farewell for the moment. Jack returns your smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he nods and turns away, heading back toward his tent.

As Jack moves to enter his tent, he is stopped by Noa's voice from the nearby cage. Noa's guttural voice cuts through the air, a possessive and primal claim. "She is... mine," he growls, the words spoken with a mixture of anger and certainty.

Jack pauses, turning to face the ape. His expression remains neutral, betraying no hint of surprise or intimidation. "That so?" he replies coolly, his calm facade belied by the slight tensing of his muscles.

Noa's voice drops to a dangerous growl, his eyes narrowing in a fierce glare. "Yes... and if you take what is mine... I will rip your throat out," he threatens, the warning clear in his tone. Jack holds his ground, refusing to show any fear or weakness in the face of Noa's aggression.

Jack remains undeterred, his expression cool and composed. His response is almost casually mocking. "Pretty big threat for some monkey who's in a cage," he retorts, raising an eyebrow at the caged ape.

Noa’s furious roar fills the air, the sound a guttural, primal display of anger and frustration. He pounds against the sides of the cage, the metal bars creaking under the force of his blows. Jack watches Noa's display with a mix of fascination and caution. He remains standing just a few feet away from the cage, his neutral expression giving no hint of his thoughts. Noa's rage and ferocity are almost palpable, the raw power and emotion almost feral in nature.

Despite the intimidating and potentially dangerous situation, Jack remains unflinching, standing his ground with a cool demeanor. "Quite the temper you've got there," he remarks dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. As Jack starts to walk away, his words hang in the air, a taunting taunt. "Might send Rudy over here with another bucket," he says with a smirk. Jack's laughter only seems to enrage Noa further, the ape thrashing against the bars of the cage with renewed ferocity.

Noa’s roar echoes loudly through the camp, the fierce cry of a territorial ape who feels his claim challenged. "MINE!" he growls, the words a primal declaration of ownership and possession.

Jack remains unruffled, continuing to calmly walk away from the cage. The ape's possessive claims and threats have little effect on him, his cool demeanor a stark contrast to Noa's feral rage.

Loui, Teko, Anaya, Soona, and Keli sit quietly in their respective cage, their attention focused on Noa's furious display. They watch the ape with a mixture of fascination, concern, and perhaps a hint of sympathy.

The apes in the cage are disheartened and desperate, their spirits broken by their powerlessness. They sit quietly, contemplating their predicament. Without weapons or any means to fight back, they feel utterly defenseless against their human captors.

As the ape carrying the food enters the cage, the animals within look up eagerly. However, their hope is quickly dashed as the ape quickly sets the food down and hastily moves to leave. The other apes in the camp offer no assistance or sympathy, their fear and helplessness keeping them from interfering.

You approach the large bonfire crackling in the center of the camp, the flames casting a warm glow over the area. You see a group of ape women preparing the evening meal, their hands moving skillfully over the food as they chop and season. They greet you with smiles and nods, happy to have the extra help.

As you work beside the ape women, preparing the meal, your thoughts keep returning to the lone ape in the cage. The image of him, so isolated and desperate, resonates with you on some level, stirring feelings of sympathy and guilt. Despite the camaraderie of the apes around you, you can’t help but feel a twinge of longing and curiosity about the solitary ape.

You share a meal with the humans and apes in the camp, and the atmosphere comfortable and friendly. Despite the kindness and inclusiveness of the community, you can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. Something or someone is missing, a vital piece to the puzzle that leaves you with an odd sense of emptiness.

A woman in the camp suddenly interrupts the conversation, excitedly announcing that she found something. “Look what I found!” She produces an old, dusty record, placing it on the player as it begins to spin. The soft scratch of the needle against the vinyl is followed by music beginning to fill the air, old, forgotten melodies coming back to life.

The music, though old and slightly worn by time, brings a feeling of nostalgia to the camp. Some of the apes sit quietly, their eyes closed as they listen, while others begin to sway or move to the rhythm. It is a moment of shared joy and reminiscing, a brief respite from the darker realities of the camp.

A large hand of Proximus appears in your line of sight, extended toward you in invitation. His eyes, dark and intense, are fixed on you, a glimmer of mischief in their depths. His voice, deep and commanding, utters a simple request. "Dance... with me."

The sudden request surprises you, the command-like quality of his voice causing your heart to flutter in your chest. You glance around, noticing the curious gazes of the others before your eyes settle back on Proximus. The combination of his imposing presence and the silent challenge in his gaze makes it difficult to decline.

Your hand meets his, the feeling of his large, rough palm against your own. Proximus smirks, his gaze darting towards the darkened corner of the camp, where the cage housing the solitary ape is located. The motion is subtle, a sly glance meant only for his prisoner.

Proximus pulls you through various moves and spins, his strong arms guiding you expertly as you both move to the beat of the music. As you dance, a feeling of familiarity washes over you. The song, while old and dusty, triggers something within you, a sense of recognition that you can't quite place.

As the song comes to an end, you find yourself panting and slightly breathless, still caught up in the dance and the wave of emotions and memories that it stirred within you. You stand, momentarily disoriented, the echoes of the music still ringing in your ears while your mind tries to make sense of the conflicting and confusing images racing through your head.

Your eyes drift towards the large cage, your heart heavy with a sense of guilt and responsibility. You wonder if the apes imprisoned there have been fed, if they are well and safe. The thought of them, cramped and helpless, weighs on your consciousness, a nagging reminder of the harsh realities of the situation.

You gather up some berries, nuts, and scraps of meat from the supper leftovers, carefully wrapping them up and stuffing them in the pocket of your pants. You're determined to do what you can to make sure the apes in the cage are fed and cared for, even in this small way.

With the camp settling down for the night, you quietly slip out of your tent and head towards the large cage where the apes are being held. As you approach, Keli is the first to notice your presence, her dark eyes peering out at you through the bars.

"Hi," you reply, your voice soft and tinged with sadness. You approach the bars of the cage, your eyes meeting Keli's gaze with a mixture of pity and concern. "Have they fed you?" you repeat, unable to bear the thought of them going hungry and cold.

Keli nods in response to your question, her eyes reflecting a hint of resignation. "We were given a small offering of seeds," she tells you, her voice quiet but clear. "We are fine," she adds, though the words seem more like a dutiful response than a genuine assurance.

Keli turns to glance behind her, her eyes falling on the other apes inside the cage. Her expression softens slightly as she looks at them, a mixture of protectiveness and worry on her face.

Keli turns back to you, her dark eyes searching your face. Your question hangs in the air, the weight of it heavy. She seems to contemplate her answer for a moment, her gaze lowering as she focuses on the floor of the cage. Finally, she looks up, her expression serious.

"Do you remember any of us?" she repeats your question, her words a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

Your furrowed brow betrays your confusion and frustration. Keli's question has brought back the now-familiar sense of amnesia. Shaking your head, you express your inability to recall anything, the frustration and helplessness evident in your expression.

Keli sighs as she looks at you, her eyes now distant with memory. Her voice is soft as she tells you, "We grew up together, far from here." The words carry a weight of nostalgia and longing, a hint of the bond that had previously tied you together.

Your words trail off as a wave of confusion washes over you. The contradiction between what Keli is saying and your reality feels overwhelming. "I live here… At least I thought I did..." you murmur, the uncertainty clear in your voice as you grapple with the conflicting pieces of information.

Loui lets out an exasperated sigh from the back of the cage. "It's no use, Keli," he says, his words tinged with resignation. There is a hint of irritation in his tone as if he's had this conversation before and knows the futile nature of it. The words hit you like a dagger, the bitter truth of them seeping into your chest. You feel a pang of hurt and humiliation, the directness of Loui's glare only emphasizing the message he's trying to deliver. "She's gone," Loui repeats, the finality of his statement hanging in the air.

The bluntness of Loui's statement hits you hard, stirring up a mix of emotions within you. You huff in frustration, your irritation at the situation becoming more evident. Without another word, you turn on your heel and start to walk away, leaving the cage and its inhabitants behind.

As you approach your tent, the tears begin to fall, the emotions you've been holding in finally breaking through. The weight of your confusion and frustration is like a physical force upon you, causing the tears to roll down your cheeks in a silent, steady stream.

Noa, trapped in his cage, watches you as you walk back to your tent, his keen eyes picking up the sight of the tears on your cheeks. He feels a pang of sympathy in his chest, his heart clenching at the sight of your distress. He wants to call out to you, to comfort you, but the bars of his cage keep him from doing so.

Noa's voice breaks the silence, his question soft and quiet but still reaching your ears. "Are you hurt?" he asks, a hint of concern in his deep rumble of a voice. You are surprised that you heard him, so you turn in his direction, your tear-streaked face catching his gaze.

As you face Noa's cage, you take in the sight of him, his large frame constricted within the small space. The sight of his cramped surroundings only adds to your sense of sorrow, the unfairness of his predicament is clear to see.

You approach the large cage, the sight of Noa captured within it causing a pang of sadness to rise in your chest. You kneel, bringing yourself closer to him, your eyes meeting his through the bars.

You study Noa intently, taking in every detail of his appearance. His powerful frame is contrasted by a certain gentleness in his dark eyes. As you study him, you realize that looking at him and listening to his voice, brings a strange sort of comfort to your mind, a brief respite from the whirlwind of confusion that usually clouds your thoughts.

“You… you’re the one that… kissed me,” you state to Noa. Noa's eyes widen slightly at your words, the memory of the kiss coming back to him instantly. He looks at you, the surprise mixing with a hint of guilt.

"Yes...." He replies, his voice quiet but honest. “Why?”

Noa looks back at you, catching the edge of your gaze. He understands the question behind your simple "why," and the demand for an explanation. "Why did I kiss you?" He finally questions, his eyes never leaving yours.

Noa takes a moment to collect himself, his eyes dropping to the floor of the cage before they rise to meet yours once more.

"I kissed you... because I could not help myself." He admits, his voice low and sincere, the honesty in his words clear and unguarded.

Noa's admission hangs in the air between you for a moment, the raw honesty of it causing a small shiver to run through you. He holds your gaze, his dark eyes locking with yours as he continues, his words soft but direct.

"I kissed you... because I wanted to. Because I couldn't deny the... pull I felt towards you."

Noa begs you silently.

Remember me. Remember me. Remember me, please.

As you look into Noa's eyes, you feel it. A strange, magnetic pull that seems to draw you closer to him, a deep, primal desire to reach out and touch his skin, to feel the heat of his body under your fingertips. Your breath hitches in your chest, the feeling powerful and overwhelming.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out the small bundle of food you had set aside for them, the offering of scraps and berries that the others had neglected. You hold it up to show Noa, the realization that they had not fed them filling you with a pang of anger and sympathy.

"They didn't feed you," you say, the words more of a statement than a question as you hold out the food.

Noa's eyes widen at the sight of the food you hold in your hands, a mixture of surprise and relief on his face as he realizes what you've brought. He moves closer to the bars of the cage, his large hand reaching out through one of the gaps to take the offering from you. His fingers brush against yours, the brief contact sending a jolt of electricity through your skin.

As Noa's hand touches yours, a shiver runs down your spine. The feel of his skin, his warmth, is intoxicating, awakening something within you that you can't quite identify. You watch as he takes the food, his grip gentle yet firm. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice gruff but filled with sincere gratitude.

Noa looks down at the food in his hand for a moment, a small sense of relief washing over him. He then raises his gaze to meet yours again, a hint of a smile on his lips. He looks at you for a moment, the connection between you feeling both intense and tender.

You are jolted out of the moment as a shuffling sound comes from nearby, causing you to straighten up abruptly and scan the darkness warily. You are reminded of the dangers that lurk all around, the constant threat of being discovered looming over you both.

You reluctantly tear yourself away from Noa, the connection between you feeling strangely unfinished yet tinged with danger. You step back, putting some distance between the two of you, and head towards your tent. You slip into the canvas walls, the shelter offering some relief as you settle down, your mind still filled with thoughts of him and the strange feelings he stirs within you.

You sink onto your cot, a dazed grin spreading across your face as you remember the feeling of Noa's touch on your hand. The brief contact has left a lingering heat in your palm, a strange and foreign sensation that you can't seem to shake. You continue to sit there, reliving the moment in your mind, your thoughts consumed by him.

The memories of his eyes, his face, and his touch, replay in your mind as you drift into sleep. His green gaze is the last thing that flickers through your thoughts before you finally surrender to your dreams, your subconscious mind dancing with the image of the ape and the strange pull you feel towards him.

In your dreams, the melody of the song from earlier floats through the air, the sweet and soothing notes taking on a dreamlike quality. You find yourself in a blurry and shifting landscape, the memories and emotions of the day playing out like fragments blending.

In the dreamlike state, the sound of rushing water fills your hearing, the sound both soothing and familiar. The noise seems to echo around you, the gentle sound of the river blending with the melody of the song that still plays in the background of your mind.

You feel a warm, rough hand cup your cheek, the touch shockingly gentle. It contrasts with the hardened feel of the skin, the callouses on the fingers adding a layer of texture to your delicate skin. The touch is familiar and yet slightly foreign, the sensation both soothing and exciting.

As the fingers of the hand caress your cheek, you feel the light, ghost-like touch of lips moving over your own. It is a whisper of a kiss, a soft brush of skin against skin that sends an instant spark of sensation through your body. The touch, while subtle, is electrifying, leaving you feeling strangely vulnerable yet yearning for more at the same time.

In the dream, you find yourself reaching out towards the source of the touch, the primal desire to bridge the gap between you and the one caressing your cheek too strong to resist. Your hand moves without conscious thought, as if by instinct, as you reach towards the presence that kisses you.

Your hands brush against the course fur, your fingers tracing up the broad shoulders to the wide back, your mind begins to clear and the image comes into focus. "Noa." You murmur, the name slipping from your lips in a whisper. His face comes into view, the familiar features of his face making your heart flutter in your chest.

You bolt upright in your cot, your mind racing with questions. How did you know his name? Was it just a strange coincidence that it had come to you in your dream? Or was there something deeper at play, something that you couldn't quite understand? Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you try to make sense of the dream and the feelings it has stirred within you.

#noa x human reader #noa x reader #pota noa #noa planet of the apes #noa pota #kingdom of the planet of the apes #noa #owen teague #planet of the apes #noa series #noa kotpota #planet of the apes x reader #kotpota #pota series #pota fanfic #pota x reader

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greetingfromthedead · 3 months ago

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5. The Long Journey Ahead

Series: Apple Blossoms

Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader

Word count: 3.3k

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The twin suns hang low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the desert landscape. Cliffs tower over you, painted by the setting suns in shades of red and gold. The air is still and quiet; not even worms disturb the peaceful silence; it is only two pairs of tomas feet shuffling through the sand.

"I know of a little cave up ahead. We will make camp there for tonight," you say, turning your head towards Knives, who appears to have gone back to his silent protest. His hands grip the lead, and his eyes remain forward. He doesn't seem thrilled, but he hasn't complained or made any attempt to go off on his own either.

"I would have thought you were in a hurry," the man replies to your surprise. "Wouldn't you want to ride through the night to get there sooner? Instead, you want to waste the night away? The man sounded distressed; he made it seem serious, and you promised to hurry."

"The nights get dark and dangerous, and I will not be able to help anyone if we get hurt or injured. You're in no condition to travel for so long in one go either; the toma have to carry a lot too. And I am getting tired. A clear head is better than a cloudy one," you state simply, explaining without the condescending tone he used for his comment.

"You didn't sleep much when you were taking care of me," Knives replies.

"Yeah, and it was very hard." you smile a crooked smile at him. "I remind you that you have yet to thank me for saving your life."

"I never asked you to do it." The man looks forward as if avoiding your gaze.

"I guess that is true."

The remainder of your way to the cave's entrance is spent in silence again, only broken by your remark that you have arrived and instructing him to get off the bird. You take a flashlight and head into the cavernous space; the air almost immediately gets cooler. The tunnel makes a bend, hiding anyone there from the outside world, and that's where you decide to spend the night. You ask Knives to take off the gear from his tomas, but as he just stares at the numerous belts and ropes, you go to help him.

Knives looks down at you as you start talking about bag straps and saddle bags. You keep rambling about things he doesn't pay attention to. He simply stares at your lips moving and your fingers pointing at buckles and clasps, not taking in a single word you're saying. As you speak, you are clear, your tone is gentle, and you don't seem to be mocking him. Perhaps there are jabs hidden in your words, but they simply slip through his brain without leaving a single mark behind. His head swims again. Perhaps it is the thirst and hunger he has been ignoring. Such human needs have never been a priority to him, so why start now? It would also mean he needed to ask you for things, admitting to his shortcomings and weaknesses. Or maybe his head is too filled with thoughts of you. The way you act around him and others, your motivations, and your actions. Your presence consumes his mind, and he simply can't help but wonder about you constantly. You make so little sense to him. You're very human; you act human, yet somehow he finds it hard to be repulsed by you the way he should.

Knives is shaken out of his trance as the saddle and all the bags attached to it hit the stone floor with a loud clatter.

"You were supposed to hold on to it!" you say, slightly annoyed, and these words finally retain their meaning in Knives's mind.

He simply looks at you. The expression doesn't match the tone of your voice. Your eyes are gentle, almost the same as when you take care of him. A hint of a smile lingers in the corner of your lips, but a small crease forms between your eyebrows. He doesn't understand. What does this expression mean? He can't ask either unless he reveals more of his inadequacies, and that's the last thing he wants to do. So he simply turns away with an uninterested face and goes towards the cave entrance to look at the last light of the sunset, painting the heavens in shades of pink and orange.

Knives uses the moment of privacy to listen to his complaining body. The hunger and thirst are still there, nothing much he can do about it. The wound in his side stings with each movement, but no longer is it the blinding flash of white, hot pain that it once was. A dull pain lingers in his back and shoulders. He carefully stretches and rolls his joints, trying to ease the tension. He isn't used to feeling this way. He isn't used to being weak. He isn't used to relying on the mercy of someone else, let alone a human. Not that he remembers, at least. It is frustrating. All of it. From the patchy memory to you taking care of him.

He looks out into the emptiness of the sandy plain, wondering if he should just go. But the illusion of freedom doesn't call him; it doesn't tempt him. Knives tries to rationalize it. His body seems to be weak like a human's, and as things are, he doesn't have supplies. He doesn't have a plan either as to where to go. He can use you to get an idea of where he is or how he should proceed. This is all there is to it. That's why there is no point in wandering off right now. He will have you as a guide to help him figure out his next steps; he will stay until he has a plan. That's all this arrangement is.

Darkness starts to settle in as the colors of the sky fade. Knives looks over his shoulder to see the faint light of a flame dancing on a wall, accompanied by some clattering that echoes down the hallway. This feels familiar. He got very used to the sounds of your kitchen—your spoon hitting the side of a pot, the scraping of food against a pan, the sizzle of oil. He always listened. Even before he regained control over his body, he tried to piece together what was going on by the sounds in the room. You must be cooking. As soon as that thought crosses his mind, the smell of stew reaches his nose, and his stomach rumbles. He thinks back on how you used to constantly talk. At first, he found it annoying. Nothing of substance was ever said, but as the weeks went by, you started to speak less and less. A tiny part of him realizes he somewhat misses constantly hearing your voice; the silence feels heavier than the annoyance of your empty words.

The last thought irritates him to the point of a sneer. He quickly runs his hand over his face, up into his outgrown black hair, and immediately the sharp pain in his side makes his breath hitch and a hiss escape his teeth. He gently presses his other hand on the injury that still gives him trouble, feeling relief as the ache settles and he can relax again. This only frustrates him further.

Knives hears your approaching footsteps, but he doesn't let on that he does; he never does. The less you can see through him, the better. The more he hides, the more secure he feels. He doesn't need you to realize just how much he perceives; he wants to keep everything he can close to his chest. It is better that way; he can only trust himself in this human infested world after all.

"My my, you don't usually pout this much. Did a worm bite you, or do you really hate being out of the house so much?" you chuckle slightly, and from the very corner of his eye, Knives sees you leaning forward to see his face better. "Or perhaps you're hangry. I get it; you must be starving. Come on, dinner is ready."

With that, you turn back again. Knives can still hear the smile in your voice; it rings in his head, and he can't understand why you would be so cheery. Were you just making fun of him? It would make sense, and the irritation in his gut grows more insistent. Or perhaps it's the hunger pains. Whatever the reason, Knives is not happy as he turns his back on the desert and goes back into the cave.

He turns the corner to find the little campsite you have set up. The birds lay side by side, looking up at him with curious eyes. A little further away, you have set up a tiny gas burner with a mess kit on top. Some stew cooks in the little pot, with two bowls waiting beside the fire to be filled. The smell of the stew wafts through the air, making his mouth water. You have set up two spots for sleeping. You sit on a thin mat, a flimsy looking sleeping bag rolled out beside you. The other setup has a pillow that you lack; the blanket looks warmer, but the mat on the ground looks just as uncomfortable. Knives goes to sit on the setup across from you, on the other side of the burner.

Knives's face remains cold and distant, but his eyes watch you intently, never leaving your hands as you pick up the pot to divide the food among the two bowls. You stick a spoon into the concoction of vegetables and meat before handing the dish to him. He takes it without saying a word. As you turn off the little gas burner, you are plunged into darkness, but only until you turn on the flashlight and set it upright on the stone ground. It casts a circle of light on the ceiling, illuminating the space with a dim glow. Before picking up your own bowl, you push a flask of water closer to Knives, and you see his eyes dart quickly to it, but he doesn't show any urgency to grab it.

You eat in silence; the only noise filling the space is the scraping of metal on metal and your chewing. You're tired and worried. Your head is filled with grim thoughts of what could be waiting for you in Silvercrest. The man who came by your house was beyond distressed. He said people are rotting from the outside in. That can't be good. You go through the possibilities of what this could be. It is most likely an infection, but you haven't heard of anything like that before. Your supplies are low, critically so. If things are as bad as they sound, there might be very little healing you can do. Even bringing relief to the dying will be a challenge. Your only hope is that merchants have been through the neighboring settlements. There is a trade route running past that might have supplies to help, but you are most likely not the first one to come to that conclusion, meaning that the supplies will have already been used up.

"You finally give yourself a decent sized portion, and then you let it get cold too?" Knives asks, and snaps you out of the spiral of depressing thoughts.

"Oh," you simply say, blinking at the bowl in hand, "I guess you're right. I was just thinking."

"How come you suddenly have supplies to spare?" he asks, putting aside the empty bowl to pick up the water.

"You mean food?" you ask, but he doesn't answer. "It's not like we have anything to spare. I was trying to ration everything out over a week, but now we will hopefully arrive at a settlement the day after tomorrow. And while they probably lack food too, it will be easier to get more. This decision might bite me in the ass, but we will deal with it then."

The food has indeed gone cold, the vegetables taste bland, and the warmth doesn't distract from the chewiness of the meat. But on an empty stomach, it still feels better than nothing. Your chest feels heavy with anxiety; even breathing takes a touch more effort than it should. You try to push the thoughts of Silvercrest away, but they linger in the back of your mind like a persistent shadow.

"It is strange of you to say one thing and then contradict yourself the next moment," Knives says as he dips the flask away from his lips.

"The things you ask about are subjective." You speak to him calmly, almost like to a child. "My medical supplies, for example. It is the truth that I am running low on essentials like painkillers, antibiotics, disinfectants, suture kits, and more. If you appeared on my doorstep now, in the condition you were in, there would be almost nothing I could do. Perhaps I could only help you go into the night with some comfort and peace, but nothing I could do would heal you is what I mean. But that doesn't mean I am not in a position to help those who don't have one foot in the grave already. I can still clean some wounds, I can dress them, and I can share knowledge. To those who have nothing, even a little bit is more than they currently have."

Knives's eyes are cold and stern, and his low eyebrows cast shadows, making him look angry, but you know him slightly better than to assume he is upset with you. He seems genuinely confused and frustrated with you. Not really because of your actions; he doesn't appear to care about those, but because he doesn't understand you. Knives keeps asking questions that sound obvious to you, yet no answer you give him ever seems to satisfy him.

"Food that's enough to cover three days is a feast to those who only need it for one, but it is not enough for those who need it for a week. That's how life has always been here. If you have more than necessary, you give it to those who need it, and when you are in need, hopefully someone will help you if they can." You look into his eyes; they remain unchanging.

"What about other lifeforms? What about Plants? Humans don't seem to have the same level of empathy towards them as they do towards other humans, and even that seems lackluster to me." Knives's tone sounds accusatory. He doesn't turn away his gaze from yours, as if he is waiting for an answer, demanding an explanation.

"You're right, it's not the same," you speak calmly, and from the slight shift in his gaze, you assume he did not expect this response. "Humans are survivors. We adapt and evolve; even in the darkest of times, we use what we can. We band together to be stronger, and we rely on each other. It is not pretty, and both despair and greed bring out the worst in us. We have always used other lifeforms for our own benefit. Animals were used for more than just meat. They were also used for labor, transportation, and other commodities like milk and wool. But it's not simply exploitation; it has never been quite that simple. It's a complex relationship that has evolved over time, shaping both our society and the animals themselves. It became co-existence. One can't be without the other, and it became more than just labor and resources. Why do you think there are cats and dogs on this planet? Humans brought them with them. They spent precious resources to take these animals, but it's not for pest control or hunting like it used to be. It's because they provide companionship and emotional support. Humans need Plants to survive here. Since the beginning, we have been trying to move away from relying on them so heavily, but this planet is unforgiving and cruel. On a different world, we might co-exist differently by now, not just surviving with the help of each other but thriving, much like the dogs and cats we brought with us."

"You mean like pets?" Knives nearly spits the last word, clearly disgusted by the idea.

"No. Like friends, like family," you reply gently.

"Humans treat even those closest to them like trash," he continues, slightly less enraged.

"Sometimes. I'm not saying they don't, we don't. I am not saying humanity is great, and lovely, and perfect. That's simply not true. There are awful people out there. Nightmarish beyond comprehension. But not all humans are like that, and it's important to remember that. A few rotten apples don't mean the whole barrel is spoiled."

"You sound like you're defending them," he says in an accusing manner.

"I am not. But you sound like you want us all to rot in the ground," you reply matter-of-factly as you get up. "Now let me check on your wound. I want to make sure you didn't rip it on our way here."

Knives watches you with slight distaste as you grab the flashlight from the ground and walk over to him. He remains silent, his eyes following your every move, even as you kneel next to him.

"Do you mind?" you ask, pointing at his side. He doesn't reply to you in any way; he just turns his head away from you to look at the birds instead. Indifference appears on his face again, a very familiar sight to you.

Pulling up the layers of the hoodie and shirt reveals clean bandages. As Knives makes no moves to aid you in any way, you put the flashlight between your teeth to hold up the clothes with one hand and to peek under the dressing with the other. The wound looks clean and healthy; there is no sign of any ripping, bleeding, or oozing.

Knives turns his head back. He watches as you hunch over to look at his wound, the torch in your mouth, making the words you try to speak unintelligible. He doesn't say anything, and you don't try to repeat yourself either. You still don't make any sense to him. It's like you speak in riddles. Knives thinks himself to be smart enough that he should see through your deception and lies, but he doesn't even detect any. It's like you're speaking a different language altogether. It's infuriating. Yet his anger is not directed at you. It's directed inward, at himself. In his eyes, you don't act as he thinks a human should.

He feels your warm fingers on his body; they tug gently at his skin, a bit further away from the wound in his side. A slight, dull pain accompanies the sensation of your soft push. The impression lingers even as you put the bandages back and pull his clothes down. He hasn't noticed it before. The feeling of your touch stays with him, and Knives presses his own hand over where yours had been to erase the ghostly impression of your fingers.

"It looks good," you say as you take the flashlight from your mouth. "I can remove the stitches in a few days; I just want to be safe for now as I still worry about the journey ahead. I am so glad that we're finally at this point."

Knives watches you smile as you get up again. He notices the way your eyes shine with joy and relief. He doesn't quite understand this either. Why do you beam with happiness just because he is healing? Do you simply take pride in your work? He remembers you saying that you would worry about him if he disappeared, but it all doesn't quite fit together in his head. He wants to run his hand across his face, and lace his fingers into his hair to tug at it, but this move would reveal his frustration to you, and Knives can't have that.

Taking a mental health break so no update next week and we'll see from there.

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#trigun #fanfic #fanfiction #millions knives #x reader #plant boi #writing #knives x reader

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misfittoy15 · 1 month ago

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"Im glad we booked this room. We both needed a shower not in a dank theater basement." Dan says as he picks up his phone after toweling off his hair. "Dan? Did we ever post that video for the seriously imagine it thing?" Phil asks, checking his Twitter notifications and being swarmed with mentions. "Oh shit, you're right. Those nerds are going to go feral over this." As he gets the posts ready to go. Phil also gets everything ready for his own profiles, smiling as he says, "Do you mean... Pheral?" Dan rolls his eyes so hard he has to put his phone down for a second as he tries and fails not to laugh. "Shut up, you. Let's post at the same time. Which platform are you doing first?"

As everything gets posted they both put their phones down in anticipation for the flood of notifications and queue up a new Mario kart match. Part way into the second race of the grand prix, Phil glances at dan and decides to say something. "Are you seriously imagining it?" Dan's focus breaks and he runs into a banana peel on the track. "God damn it, phil! I was winning!" They both laugh as phil pulls ahead and dan gets his bearings back on the track. "Yeah, you WERE." They clutch their way through the rest of the grand prix with plenty of jabs and remarks that leave them both with smiles as the trophy scene plays.

"Okay, but are you?" Phil dramatically side eyes dan as he's scrolling furiously on his phone. Dan is silent for a moment while he continues looking for whatever it is that's got him for focused on his screen. Phil sighs and decides to let it go, and starts checking his own phone, skimming the insane amount of replies to their video. Their fans are being absolutely unhinged just as they expected.

Dan finally says a whispered "yes!" Right before some tinny fall out boy starts playing from his phone speakers. Phil looks at him quizzically and then realizes dan has found someone who is live streaming from When We Were Young Festival in Las Vegas. The two make eye contact and dan remains silent for a beat, before Phil raises an eyebrow.

"Phil.. do i seriously /need/ to imagine it?" He's surprised for a moment forgetting about the comment he made earlier and then he breaks into a laugh. "I mean, that's entirely up to you, isn't it, daniel?" Dan turns his phone a bit to show Phil the screen. "Okay but look, they're playing through the album and this is the last song before MCR comes out." The two watch the set together despite the terrible quality. "Recpetion must be terrible there." Phil remarks. "Gotta be. There's so many people in one spot. I'm kinda glad we didn't go." Phil casts as glance at dan, "you would be. Mister "don't talk to me" cross body bag. " "you and I both know we would get SO SWARMED. I'd rather just relax on our day off of tour." Fall out Boys performance finishes and it's the break before MCR.

Dan looks up and meets Phil's eye, lowering the volume on his phone and setting the device down. "You know Phil, earlier I asked if I had to imagine it. But I know I don't need to, now do i?" The intensity of his gaze makes Phil stammer a bit and struggle to form a response. "I, i , well, I um, suppose not, huh? We didn't end up going." Dan tilts his chin down and his gaze deepens, "you know that's not what I'm talking about, Philip." Dan leans closer to the man next to him and tugs on his shirt collar where it dips beneath his chin, "I've got you all to myself tonight. Let them imagine it all they want." The first note of My Chemical Romance's set plays as their lips touch. Once, then twice.

"Now, let's watch the rest of this stream until the signal fails." Dan nestles into the seat and picks up his phone, facing it toward Phil and increasing the volume again. Phil adjusts too and smirks when he notices the pride flag they filmed with tossed over the back of the couch they just kissed on.

#dip and pip #dan and phil #phan #when we were young fest #wwwy 2024 #imagine it #seriously imagine it #fob #mcr

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katyawriteswhump · 10 months ago

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The power of love, part 5 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Eddie POV

Robin spreads out a map they’d taken from the Harringtons across the blanket on Steve’s bed. She points to their current location.

“So, this is us. We’re away from the road but still waaay too screaming-in-your-face easy to find.” She slides her finger a few inches across the map. “This old loggers’ camp is deep in the forest and could be the perfect place to hide. However, it’s over seven miles and we might have to hike, if the track is broken up. Steve? What do you say?”

“What am I supposed to say, Robin?” Steve sits up against the pillows, arms folded. “Let’s get going.”

“It’s a loooong way for you, if we can’t drive, man,” says Eddie.

“I’m good. Jesus! Hiking is in her top ten least favourite pass times. Not mine.” Steve throws off the covers, pushes himself up. He repels Eddie’s attempt to help with a jab of his elbow then leans heavily on the wall. “When do we start?”

“Hold your horses, cowboy.” Eddie cranes over the map. “My beloved Pa had a few hideouts round this way—”

“Yeah, they must’ve been totally undiscoverable,” snarks Steve, “what with Al Munson being FOREVER IN JAIL.”

“If you’re feeling so much better, Dingus, THEN STOP BEING A BITCH.” That was Robin, now matching Steve’s glare. “Go on, Eddie. What’s your plan?”

They strike out for the logging camp that afternoon, planning to break their journey in a cave, which Eddie’s Pops had used a couple of times. They drive the first part of the trail, then set off on foot when the track gets too uneven for the Lincoln’s tyres. Most of the trail is uphill through forest. Steve, however, refuses any help, and insists on taking his share of supplies.

He says very little, walking close to Robin. She wavers between cajoling him into taking breaks, and an encouraging monologue. Eddie goes ahead, using a compass and some basic tracking skills Wayne taught him, while squinting at the hazy sun. And, obviously, he seeks the easiest path for Steve.

“You know I suck at directions, right?” he whispers to Robin, while Steve takes a ‘moment,’ sitting down. “Though I’m gonna blame Vecna—and the matter that Hawkins is now one big, fiery Upside Down doormat—for blowing the compass off.”

She bats a bug from her nose. “Ugh! If it’s any consolation, trail finding was never exactly my number one skill, either.”

“How about Captain America over there?”

“He literally never knows his left from his right.” Eddie’s rarely seen anything more loving than the look she casts Steve’s way. “I think it’s gotten harder for him. He’s had... uh, quite a few blows to the head in recent years. Never seen him like this before. I’m worried, Eddie.”

“Me too.” Eddie swipes hair from his brow, finding it slick with sweat. “Talking of Vecna-skewed compasses and Vecna in general. Should we also worry about his crazy-ass cravings for Lover’s Lake?”

“At this juncture, I’m hoping it’s all some kind of freaky coincidence.” She actually closes her eyes, as if offering up a silent prayer. “I mean, even when he’s outta his mind, Steve really, really loves swimming. On the other hand, if going near the lake actually made Steve better, and that’s why he healed so quick after his initial bat attack, then… then… Oh shit, I don’t even want to say it.”

Their gazes lock, and Eddie knows they’re brain sharing: There’s a gate to the Upside Down in Lover’s Lake. If Steve’s somehow linked to it some evil-magic-juju fashion, then…

“You don’t seriously think he’s flayed?” Eddie little more than mouths the words.

Robin slices up a forbidding hand, so fast Eddie fliches. “No. Not that. He can’t be. Vecna isn’t in his head—he’d tell us, right? I mean, there could be a more physical link to the Upside Down and the hive mind, like with Will at various stages, but… No, no, no. We’re catastrophising, huh?”

Eddie nods keenly, which does little to dispel his unease. On the other hand, Robin is right. Nothing about Steve’s behaviour is shouting “flayed” or whatever. Including the teeny, tiny matter of Steve bringing Eddie back from extinction, though that remains totally unexplained. Yeah, it could be simply because death happens differently in the Upside Down.

Steve hauls himself up, hugging a tree. “What we waiting for? Bears to come bite our sorry butts?”

“There are bears out here?” Robin squeaks.

“He’s kidding,” mutters Eddie. At least, Eddie hopes he is. Steve still looks dead grumpy and serious.

They make the caves by sunset. They’ve got flashlights, and Eddie and Robin could’ve pressed on through the night, but Steve blatantly can’t. As soon as they arrive, he slumps down against the rockface, curls his legs up. He presses his face to his knees and rocks himself gently.

“You sure you’re all right?” asks Eddie.

“Next person who asks me that gets punched.”

Ooookay. No change in Steve’s mood then. Robin reassures herself there are no bear scratches in the cave then heads out to scout the route for the next morning. Eddie starts unpacking the bedding and cereal.

The air in the cave is cool and thick with damp. Eddie kinda likes it anyhow. Amid the must and mould, he inhales the faintest hint of charcoal. He pictures his Pa shacked up here, also on the run. He can’t help chuckle: I tried soooo hard not to follow in your footsteps.

Steve, meanwhile, is huddling ever more tightly in on himself.

Eddie’s tempted to light a fire, as he imagines it gets cold in caves overnight, plus it’s still only April. However, he fears the smoke, if not the flames, could billow out of the narrow entrance and be spotted from miles around. Maybe that’s where you went wrong, Daddy dearest.

“You want a blanket?” ventures Eddie, sitting down next to Steve. Not quite touching, though. “Anything to eat? C’mon, dude. We all gotta keep our strength up.”

He taps the cereal packet against Steve’s arm, startling him into looking up. The torchlight heightens the shadows beneath Steve’s cheekbones, making him look horribly pale and gaunt. Kinda ghost-like, though Eddie stifles a gasp of shock for a different reason.

Steve Harrington is crying. Though trying his darndest not to—gritting his teeth, swiping the tell-tale moisture from his cheekbones. “God! I’m beyond pathetic. No wonder everyone thinks I’m a total dud.”

Cereal cast aside, Eddie squeezes Steve’s knee then retreats like the coward he is. “What are you on about? You’re, like, the most popular guy in town.”

Steve’s scowl is angry, incredulous and broken in equal measures. “Was, man. It was all a bunch of bull, and… totally irrelevant. I mean, haven’t you seen enough? We need to move, to keep moving, to evade capture, to get ready to fight Vecna again. I can barely walk.”

“Oookay, let’s rewind and be kind, Stevie.” He gets away with that sneaky pet-name again. “You’re feeling down because you’re… I dunno, sick, hurt, tired. Where do I begin? Fact is, you’re not a superhero man, you bleed and bruise like the rest of us lesser mortals… but you are a freakin’ hero.”

Steve’s brittle laugh breaks on a sob, against which he clamps his jaw even tighter. Eddie further musters his courage and slings an arm around Steve, who tenses. Then exhaustion wins. Steve sinks sideways against Eddie and rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Soon, Steve’s shuddering breaths even out. The weirdest thing is that, despite how cranky Steve’s been all afternoon, this closeness feels disarmingly natural. That said, in the past forty-eight hours, they’ve had little choice but to become… intimate. Even Eddie's fizzing nerves soon settle.

“One thing’s for sure,” says Eddie, at length. “I’m more jealous than ever. I mean, Henderson’s respect for you must’ve skyrocketed and it was excruciatingly stratospheric already. I’m just the goon you brought back from the dead.”

Steve sniffles, lifts his head from Eddie’s shoulder. “I didn’t do anything really, man. Basic CPR. I executed a move.”

“Yeeeah.” A silly grin tugs the edges of Eddie’s mouth. “With your lips, dude.”

Steve smirks, and… Woah! Eddie spots something he’d wondered if he’d imagined several times. Including earlier, when Steve collapsed against him on the way back from the outhouse.

That merest hint of… attraction? Of flirty fun?

Just as Eddie decides he’s imagining it—again—that spark reaches Steve’s too-pretty, too-sad eyes, and he says:

“That was kinda fresh of me.”

Eddie’s tongue flaps away before he can stop it: “Tell you one other thing for sure—if you'd asked permission to get all smoochey, for whatever reason, I'd have granted you a full-access backstage pass.” Then Eddie’s brain kicks in. “Aaaaaand, that was dumb. What with you being the straightest guy in the history of ever.”

Steve’s sparkle vanishes, and he turns his face to the darkness. “Go to Hell! Why does everyone always make such massive assumptions about me?”

“You’re not straight? I mean, I assumed… You’re you. You’ve got girlie mag centerfolds in your room!”

“You’re judging me on that?” Steve ruffles his hair and groans, sounding more wearily upset than agitated. “Look, man, I’ve not changed my room since sophomore year. In case you’re missing any of the plot, I’ve had other crap going on.”

“Yeah, but you and Wheeler! The way you look at her, and the way she looks at—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Steve sinks his forehead to his knees again. Nevertheless, Eddie’s arm is still around him, and he’s not shrugged it off. What’s more, it seems he does want to talk, even if it’s rambling and kinda hard to follow:

“I've been through stuff like this before, Eddie. Getting hurt and shit, hit so hard I black out and the doctors give me all these scary warnings. It’s weird, whenever I wake after being hurt, it feels as if loads of time has passed, even if it’s only been a few minutes. I always feel… shitty, of course, but also… a bit different. It’s confusing… Probably bullshit. It’s all bullshit.”

Different.

Eddie’s heart gives a little squeeze, which he kinda despairs of. Not before he’s given Steve a small squeeze, too. “What kind of different?”

“I dunno. Like.... this time around, I'm not so into Nance. Or maybe feeling so crappy this past day has given even my thick head perspective, and I can see it’s hopeless. I mean, I figured I was in love with Robin once, when I “came back” from being knocked out, and, of course, I do love her but... not like that. She gets me… better than I do, I guess. Talk to her if you want anything about me to make sense.” He yawns. “I’m soooo tired, man.”

Soon, Steve’s sunk so deep against Eddie, his head is in Eddie’s lap. Eddie drags a blanket up over Steve, then finds himself tentatively stroking Steve’s hair. He’s unsure if Steve is asleep or not. Either way, Steve sighs, kinda melts beneath his touch. Wherever he’s drifted off to, it seems peaceful.

Eddie tries and fails not to think on how trippy this is: I got Steve ‘King of Hawkins High’ Harrington asleep in my lap, and he just snapped at me for suggesting he was straight.

He also tries and fails not to worry about the whole Lover’s-Lake-giving-Steve-weird-juju issue. Steve just straight-up told him he’s been through near-death experiences before and come back different. Yeah, Eddie’s cheerleading for the GOOD variety of different. However, in Hawkins, and in life in general:

Odds are stacked in the favour of BAD different, Munson. As in FLAYED different.

No. He’s not going down that path. Robin would notice anything weird about Steve, and Steve’s not acting strange. He’s just… strangely sick, though it’s not that odd, really, after all he’s been through.

Yeah, right. And My Little Pony seahorses are gonna surf in on a tsunami of petals and save the day.

Man, it sucks being such a cynic.

He doesn’t notice Robin slip back in until she’s nearly upon them. “You two got cosy, then,” she whispers.

“I got a creeping suspicion he’s gonna break my neck in the morning for this.”

She wiggles her brows. “Oh, I dunno. His bark is totally worse than his bite.”

“I can hear you, asshats,” mumbles Steve. Robin’s brows shoot sky high. “I don’t want to be sleeping on his bony knees, but some moron forgot to bring pillows.”

Eddie strokes Steve’s hair into that warm groove behind his ear, and finally discovers he’s too tired to worry about anything much at all.

Part Six

...

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

tags: @estrellami-1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far.

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #platonic stobin #stobin #stranger things fanfic #steve and robin #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hurt/comfort

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hazbin-luciferalastor · 9 months ago

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(theme -Old friends/master-servant)

Lucifer's confident stride carried him through the lively crowd until he stood before Alastor, who had shifted his focus toward the approaching figure. The air seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension as Lucifer regarded Alastor's watchful stance.

Alastor, however, greeted Lucifer's approach with a mocking tilt of his head and a smirk. "Is there anything I can get for your majesty?" he said, his voice dripping with a sarcastic and mocking tone that matched his enigmatic expression.

Lucifer, undeterred by the jab, raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Your sense of humor hasn't dulled, Alastor. But seriously, what's with the silent watching? You're giving off an eerie vibe, even for you."

Alastor's smirk widened, and he gestured casually to the bustling room. "Oh, just enjoying the show, my dear Lucifer. There's a certain pleasure in observing the intricacies of human interaction. And who am I to interrupt the delightful chaos?"

Lucifer crossed his arms, his piercing gaze meeting Alastor's. "It's more than just observing, Alastor. You're making people uncomfortable. Ease up a bit, will you?"

Alastor's eyes glinted with amusement as he inclined his head. "Uncomfortable? My dear Lucifer, I'm merely adding a touch of mystery to the proceedings. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?"

Lucifer sighed, realizing he might not get a straightforward answer from the ever-elusive Alastor. "Just don't overdo it, old friend. We wouldn't want you scaring away the guests."

With that, Lucifer left Alastor by the wall, shaking his head as he returned to the lively activities, leaving Alastor to resume his silent observation, his mysterious presence continuing to cast a shadow over the vibrant gathering.

#chatgpt #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #radioapple

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bunnysnuff · 2 months ago

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Chapter 2.

Pairing: Charlie spring x F!twin!Reader (siblings), Charlie spring x nick Nelson, nick Nelson x F!reader.

Triggers warning: future love triangle, reader and Charlie are siblings. Feelings of loneliness and confusion. Wrote in the 3rd person Point of view. Reader is Female.

Masterlist.

—

Summary: Dear Charlie, we shared the same womb; I love you. I’m sorry.

Chapter 2

The next few days passed in a blur of normalcy, yet everything felt different. As the sun began to set earlier and the air turned cooler, I found myself preoccupied with thoughts of Nick Nelson. I tried to shake the feeling, but he lingered in on mind like a song stuck on repeat. His laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke—everything about him seemed to ignite a fire you didn’t know was there.

On Friday afternoon, as you wrapped up in your homework in your room, you heard your brother’s footsteps thudding down the hall. The excitement in his voice was unmistakable as he called out, “Guess who’s coming over again today!”

Your heart raced. “Nick?” You tried to sound casual, but eagerness slipped through your fingers.

“Yep! He said he wanted to hang out with us this weekend!” Charlie replied, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s going to be epic!”

You forced a smile, though the anticipation was laced with anxiety. “Sounds great. What are we doing?”

“Probably just some games again, maybe grab a pizza. You in?”

“Of course,” you replied, though your mind was already racing. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face the onslaught of feelings that Nick stirred within you. Yet, you couldn’t deny the thrill of having him around again.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm golden hues throughout the house, the reader helped your brother prepare for Nick’s arrival. You tried to distract yourself by organizing snacks and drinks in the kitchen, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Would he look at you again with that playful glint? Would he make you laugh as he had before?

When the doorbell finally rang, your stomach fluttered with nerves. Charlie was at the door before you could even take a breath, swinging it open wide with a huge grin.

“Nick! Hey!” he exclaimed, pulling Nick in for a friendly hug.

“Hey! Hope I’m not too early,” Nick replied, stepping into the warmth of their home. He wore a casual t-shirt and jeans, his easy confidence making him seem even more attractive. You felt your cheeks warm as you stepped into the living room, determined to keep her composure.

“Not at all! We’re just about to order some pizza. What do you want?” Charlie asked, leading Nick into the living room.

“Pepperoni, always,” Nick said, flashing a smile at you. You felt your heart skip a beat as you met his gaze, and you couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to take a moment to really look at you before returning his attention to Charlie.

As they settled in, the familiar rhythm of playful banter resumed. They launched into a video game tournament, the air filled with laughter and friendly jabs. Yet, beneath the surface, the reader felt a strange tension. The way Nick and Charlie played off each other felt like a well-rehearsed act, one that you were desperately trying to join.

Halfway through a particularly intense match, Nick leaned closer to you, his eyes focused on the screen. “You’re pretty good at this,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You should join the gaming club at school.”

You blinked, surprised by the compliment. “Thanks! I didn’t think it was your style, though.”

He chuckled, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending an unexpected thrill through you. “You’d be surprised. I like to try new things.”

Before you could respond, Charlie let out a whoop of victory, breaking the moment. “Yes! I’m on fire today!”

“Lucky shot!” Nick retorted, feigning annoyance. But his eyes were bright with amusement, and the moment between You and Nick faded into friendly competition once more.

As the evening wore on, You couldn’t shake the feeling that Nick was trying to include you, but every time he did, it felt like you were competing not just for his attention but also for her brother’s. Every shared joke and knowing glance between the two of them was a reminder of how easily you felt pushed aside.

Eventually, pizza arrived, and they gathered around the table, plates piled high with steaming slices. The chatter continued, laughter bubbling up like the fizz in their sodas. For a moment, everything felt perfect, like the three of them were the best of friends.

But then, while Charlie was busy cracking jokes, you caught Nick’s eye again. He smiled at you in a way that made your stomach flip, and you felt yourself leaning in, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Charlie interrupted.

“Hey, what about that time we—” he started, diving into another story from their childhood, leaving no room for you to voice whatever had been on your mind.

You felt a pang of frustration. Why was it so easy for Charlie to take over the conversation? It was like he didn’t even notice you struggle to keep up. It made you want to retreat, to hide your feelings deep down where they couldn’t reach you.

As the night wore on, the laughter and lightheartedness continued, but a subtle tension hung in the air. It was a truce, uneasy yet somehow comfortable, but it was clear that something was shifting beneath the surface. You could feel it, a tension that begged to be addressed but remained unspoken, lingering in the quiet moments when Nick’s gaze would drift back to you, filled with curiosity and warmth.

Later, when Nick finally left, you felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. The door closed behind him, and you took a deep breath, glancing over at your twin brother, who looked ecstatic.

“Did you see that? Nick’s awesome!” Charlie exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement. “I can’t believe how much fun we had!”

“Yeah, he seems cool,” you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral, though you could feel your heart racing.

“I think he really likes hanging out with us,” Charlie said, oblivious to the tension that had just flickered between you and Nick. “And I can tell he’s really into you too. You two were totally vibing!”

Your stomach dropped at his words. “What do you mean?”

Charlie shrugged, grinning. “Just the way he looks at you. It’s like he’s fascinated. Maybe it’s because we’re twins?”

You bit your lip, torn between the hope that maybe Nick felt something more and the reality that her brother seemed oblivious to the growing feelings between them. As you retreated to your room that night, the weight of the evening settled heavily on your chest.

Tossing and turning, sleep eluded you. The feelings swirling inside you were a confusing mix of admiration, envy, and excitement. Tomorrow would be another day, and you would have to figure out how to navigate this new dynamic that threatened to change everything you knew. With a heavy heart, you finally closed your eyes, hoping to find clarity in the morning light.

—-

Diary entry 2.

Dear Charlie,

I don’t even know where to begin. Nick came over again today, and honestly, I’m a tangled mess of emotions. It was fun hanging out with you both, but there’s something simmering beneath the surface that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I can tell how much you enjoy spending time with Nick, and it makes me happy to see you so excited. But I’m starting to feel like a shadow, watching you two connect while I’m just… here. It’s like you both have this amazing chemistry, and I’m trying to find a way in, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall.

Nick was so engaging with both of us, but every time he looked at me, I felt this spark. And then you would jump in with some story or joke, and it was like I was pushed aside again. I know it sounds dramatic, but it really stings. I don’t want to feel jealous of your friendship with him, but I can’t help it.

When you said Nick seemed to like me too, I almost wanted to scream. Part of me hopes that’s true, but it also feels like you’re oblivious to how I feel about him. Do you see how he looks at me sometimes? It’s confusing because I know you really like him, and I don’t want to come between you. But at the same time, I can’t ignore these feelings.

I just need to figure out how to navigate this new dynamic without losing what we have. I want you to be happy, but I also want to be honest with myself about my feelings. It’s exhausting, and I feel like I’m in some weird love triangle, except I’m not sure if anyone knows it exists.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I hope we can talk about this soon. I need to know how to balance everything—my feelings, your friendship with Nick, and our relationship as siblings.

Love you,

[Your Name].

#heartstopper imagines #heartstopper x reader #heartstopper season 2 #nick nelson #nick Nelson x reader #nick Nelson imagines #Charlie spring #Charlie spring x reader #charlie spring x sister!reader #charlie spring imagine #charlie spring x reader x nick nelson #tw love triangle #bunnysnuff writes✨

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