#amber’s trying to keep him out of it out of a promise she made to nina | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fuji-sen · 2 months ago

Text

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Foodie turned Imposter?!

Part 7: Dawn Winery's Grapevine

[ part 6 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 8 ]

divider is made by @/saradika-graphics

"It's best we go now and tell Amber that we didn't find anything." Aether decided, having finished eating, you found yourself walking Paimon and Aether out of the hilichurl camp, your warm friend was dozing off after having their fill of wood and pinecones.

"That would be true." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad having to part with them, though your time in this world was short, it felt forever since you had any decent human conversation. Sure the pyro slime and the hilichurls were very welcoming and accomodating but it was hard to have a clear conversation with them due to a language barrier, and the few people you had met in Mondstadt were either a rumored puppet (Katheryne) or tried to kill you in the end (Jean and Lisa).

Noticing your disappointment, the blond haired boy promised you something that made your smile return "Don't worry, I'm not leaving you permanently. I'll come by once the close is clear but. ."

He eyed the Hilichurl group "I think you shouldn't stay here any longer, the knights might come to take care of this camp before it gets to big. . they may find you."

Your eyes widened slightly, you didn't want the Hilichurls who took you in to get hurt. . "I'll keep that in mind. ."

"Here." His hand glowered brightly as he brought out a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, "This should help you in the long run." he said, he didn't want to leave you, not when you clearly couldn't fight to protect your life, but being with him while Mondstadt had his eyes on him would only risk you getting found out.

"Thank you. ." despite your hesitance you forced yourself to take the weapon. . 'right. . I shouldn't hesitate. They never did, so I shouldn't. Not when my life is on the line.'

When the duo had left in the dead of the night, you turned around, basking once more in the peaceful hilichurl tribe. Most of them were asleep, cuddling with each other for warmth near the weak bonfire that your pyro buddy managed.

The children were latched onto the older ones, the samachurl dozing off while stilling sitting, clutching their staff in their hands. Knowing that the Hilichurls were overprotective of you (for a reason you cannot quite comprehend at the present), you decided you must leave the hilichurl group for both of your own safety's. But not now, you at least wanted to be just a bit selfish.

You sat next to the dozing campfire, hugging your knees close to your chest. 'There's a lot to be done.' you thought, hand wondering to a nearby hilichurl's head, feeling their soft fur or hair, you found your fingers gently coming through the tangles.

Their origins were not unknown to you, and that made it harder for you to stay and leave them. To stay would put them at a risk of the knights attacking them to get through to you, while leaving them would damn them of the punishment placed on to them. You could not stay and defend them when she didn't even have any combat prowess.

Despite being a former culinary arts students, you had experience due to playing Genshin Impact. There was a way to make sure the hilichurl group would not be ill-equipped. Of course helping them get stronger may mean they'd end up hurting innocent civilians but. . they were much better than the people, so you didn't need much more convincing.

Come the next few days you helped in fortifying their walls and making simple watch towers out of wood so their archers would have better leverage. Of course all you did was draw the watchtower and they understood what you were trying to convey to start building it.

The Samachurl was also able to help with communication, but they way that the Sama looked at you meant he was beginning to understand why you had them do these things. You thought the younger hilichurls how to cook and prepare food that weren't just meat but also those with vegetables.

"You need to eat your vegetables okay?" "nye!" a hilichurl huffed, crossing their arms and turning away. "Hey!"

You also accompanied them when they went hunting and foraging, they taught you how to prepare birds and boars to turn into food and meet, while you taught them how to season them and prepare it so the food will last longer.

They helped you learn how to use a bow and in turn the first prey you had caught were given to them. When you realized that they were now able to live more efficiently, you decided to leave that particular night.

You left half of the food and ingredients you had foraged, the rest going into your inventory. As you walked out of the camp, you found yourself turning back only to flinch at the Samachurl who appeared right in front of you.

"Unu. ." the sadness in his voice conveyed that he knew you were about to leave, without planning to return. . at least for a long while.

Swallowing away your nerves, you responded by simply bowing deeply in respect and gratitude "Valo. . for everything."

"a. .ah." the Samachurl coughed, once again he spoke in broken human language. . "p. please, come back, ye unu. . we're your odomu." and he bowed in front of you, much deeper, almost falling to the ground as he regarded with reverence.

You straightened up, feeling a mixture of emotions as you approached him, arms enveloping his much smaller form as you placed a kiss on his forehead. "I will."

🏹⁀➴˚ ✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Find yourself alone made you feel solemn and rather lonely, but you resisted the urge to go back. Due to the terrain of Brightcrown mountains, there were so few paths you could take. Since you weren't a skilled rock climber nor did you feel safe swimming at cider lake with its proximity to city of freedom, you decided to take the path that lead south, to the sub area Windwail Highland.

Windwail Highland consisted of Dawn Winery, Wolvendom and Springvale. Your goal was to go to Wolvendom, due to it being home to the wolves, it was a less popular sight in the region. There were few people there, actually you were sure that there would only be one person to worry about, Razor.

Wolvendom held something precious you would need after all, Wolfhook, it was not because you wanted to try cooking with them. . . okay partly it was, but it was mainly for its medicinal properties! Since you couldn't go to the city and get healed by someone like Barbara, you could only rely on homemade remedies and recovery food.

Of course recovery food were for hp in the end, you don't think they'll heal any broken bones you may get along the way. But since you didn't know how to exactly use them, you also had to improvise this entire journey of yours to make sure you live.

You eyed the lake that entered your vision, as your hand placed itself on a waypoint, ignoring it whirl to life you turn to the fork in the path. One leading to the winery, the other leading to Liyue. If Aether hadn't told you why you were being targeted by Mondstadt, you'd have probably escape to Liyue using this path by now but. .

if Mondstadt, the city of freedom itself wanted you dead without any due process, what of Liyue? Liyue, a region steeped in tradition, this creator was respected in the entire continent. . thinking about it, there wasn't really any safe places for you to go to, to seek refuge in.

Even if there were people who would willingly protect you and house you, you'd no doubt feel guilty for putting them in potential harm's way. You massaged the lower half of your face as you decided to continue trekking on, but instead of feeling your skin, you felt a fabric around you. "Ah right" you murmur as you remembered making a half-assed veil to cover the majority of your face. The hilichurl masked had been an option but that would garner more attention to yourself as a human dressed as a hilichurl.

But with the apparel you were wearing you could easily play yourself off as being a nomad from a far of region, possibly the Sumeru Desert, the clothes would be close enough to it and considering there were few or none sumeru visitors in Mondstadt except for Lisa (who has been away from the dendro region for years) then you were safe.

The smell of grapes seemed to linger around the area now, and lo and behold, you could see Dawn Winery with its grapevines in full glory. Curiously you stopped to stare, watching as numerous maids and workmen were hauling the harvest to the house.

"Oh hello there, is there anything we can do for you?" You flinched as you turned to find a maid approach her, one with short light blonde hair and green eyes, her appearance was very familiar to her but the name was definitely on the tip of your tongue.

"U-uh no, sorry I just smelled some grapes." You awkwardly stood, wondering if the maid knew about the wanted 'Imposter' on the loose.

The woman nodded, a smile on her face. "I see, here at Dawn Winery, we grow a lot of varieties of grapes that are used for our wine and some other special ingredients." she added helpfully.

"Is it harvesting season then?" you asked curiously, the woman nodded "yes, for one of our rotations. We are actually hiring some adventurers for some labor. Are you by chance one of those adventurers who saw our request?"

Immediately you shook your head "Ah I'm an adventurer, yes. But I haven't seen this request of yours."

"Ah I see"

Seeing her disappointment you added "however if you still need an extra pair of hands, I can help." you offered and she instantly smiled. "That's great, why don't you follow me and I can explain to you what we need to do!"

You nodded, taking a steady pace as you followed behind the woman who'd you come to realize was Adelinde. All you had to do was harvest the grapes in one section of the winery, then help with the cleaning then the delivery of a wine. "Apparently, the Knights are ordering for abled men to partake in the hunt of a person impersonating out great Creator." Adeline offhandedly mentioned, which explained why most of the people in the area were either maids or much older workers that probably did not meet Jean's standards for participants.

"I see, that must have been a trouble for your business." You nodded along as you grabbed a wooden basket, and started working. You were too far into it to leave anyways, and hopefully they'd pay you a lot for the menial labor. Maybe finally you could escape the nightmare that is minimum wage.

The grapes looked juicy and plump, you were almost tempted on snacking on a few but you didn't want to return Adelinde's kindness with eating their grapes. You could probably make some raisins with the grapes.

"Oh Master Kaeya, what are you doing here?" You flinched at Adelinde who was greeting a boy with dark blue hair. "Hello Adelinde" he greeted respectfully, without a hint of teasing. From the corner of your eye you could see him interact with the maid.

A shaky sigh escaped your lips, hoping the captain would not notice you. "I heard you were short on hands so I thought I'd stop by and assist you."

"Don't tell me you ditched your work." The woman huffed, hands on her hips, but she didn't look too annoyed. "Maybe, maybe not. But it's okay, Diluc is working with the Knights at Jean's behest." He waved her off.

"I see, thank you for your help. . but are you sure? this situation is very important. It is true that there is an imposter like in the prophecy?" Adelinde asked with a hush whisper, but you found that the wind carried their voices to you making it easier for you to eavesdrop.

"Supposedly, but I would not rule out this imposter for simply having a few similar features with her divinity." Kaeya said with a small sigh, the maid skeptically wondered "that is true but. . are they truly going to execute this person on sight. . what if they are actually the creator?"

If Adelinde had a choice, she would rather give it time to truly determine this person's status before deciding to execute them on the spot.

"I would agree. But maybe Diluc could bring reason to Jean."

"Hopefully, Jean has always been fond of Diluc, maybe she'd listen to him."

Oh? did that mean Jean did have feelings for the red haired dark knight? you couldn't help but cover your mouth with your hand, finding the tea to be interesting.

"But you know, I wonder why Jean is acting like this, usually she's so level headed." Adelinde sighed cupping her cheek in dismay, she was quite disappointed with the acting grand master's choice of actions.

"Well you know it is quite a sensitive topic, it seems like she wants to curry favor with the great Creator after being neglected." Kaeya unabashedly exposed Jean's secrets. You blinked in confusion, hands stopping as if frozen from harvesting another grapevine. Jean was neglected by the creator?

'so like mommy issues or God Issues?'

You couldn't help but ponder the implications of what was revealed to you, that meant that the God was still active in some ways but still silent.

Then you remembered something, you had jean, you had pulled for a character you had wanted only to lose 50/50, and because by then she was out of meta you didn't bother using her, only building her to get the few free wishes. .

You nearly dropped your basket as something cold washed over you. . something, something was clearly wrong.

°🥂⋆.ೃ🍾࿔*:･

After harvesting all the ready grapes in the section Adelinde instructed you, you found them ready the grapes into wooden buckets as the other more experienced maids handled the work. "Why don't you take a seat and wait, the others are loading up the wine in the cart." Adelinde offered as you nodded in relief, you found your feet hurting from standing on unpaved paths without any proper protection.

"By the way," you flinched, turning to Adeline who simply smiled at you, unaware of your unease "I never got your name."

"It's [Name]." you said with a slight nod as you then headed to the chairs and tables scattered around the estate. You felt your stomach rumble, finding yourself starving. You should cook something, you wondered if you can borrow the nearby cooking pot. "Why hello there?"

Your eyes widened, turning to meet Kaeya, how long had he been aware of your presence? how long had you been distracted by your hunger to not notice him approaching?

"I've never met you before, you are?"

"[name] just a nomad." you answered with a frown, eyes narrowing at the captain. What was he up to? even though he seemed to not agree with Jean's witch trial, he was still a wildcard.

"Oh? from where?" he took the seat next to you, a smile plastered on his face.

"The desert in Sumeru."

Your answers were short and had a sharp edge, but it did not deter the Cavalry captain who only seemed more and more amused. You wondered whether Aether trusted the man enough to tell him about what he knew of you.

"Oh really? I've never been there before. What's it like?"

"Unbearably hot during the day, cold during the night. There are also a lot of eremites and mercenary." You answered. Could he even confirm or deny your claims? sure he had connections, but did it reach towards Sumeru who was quite far?

His fingers tapped the wooden table that separated the two of you, "I've never been to Sumeru before, could you tell me more about it?" he asked, putting on his charismatic tone. "What do you care for then?" you gritted out.

"How about the cuisine?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you found yourself going into a long rant about the food in Sumeru. Although you could never truly describe it's by its taste, having never eaten it. You vividly remember its description.

"The pita pockets are very tasty and filling, I made it once (recreated) and it was delicious. You can change the fillings, I tried one with a filling similar to what I usually use in Quesadillas. But you can change it to have some lettuce or tomatoes and pork. But if you want a dish you can try the Tandoori Roast Chicken, it's similar to the Sweet Madame but instead of being sweet it's more savory with spices." You continued on ranting as Kaeya blinked, he was not expecting this.

He wasn't able to cut in for awhile as you passionately talked about the food from Sumeru, sometimes you complained about the ingredients, other times you gushed about how delicious it was when you cooked it or how disappointed you were when you hadn't.

"Personally I always wanted to try their Shawarma wraps, but I haven't had the chance to recreate it as well as the Rose custard. I love pudding, what about you?"

"oh uh" he blinked again, not expecting you to stop as you, again, were rather passionate. Realizing it as well, you reeled back, cheeks and ears taking on a rosy hue as you apologized, definitely embarrassed for chatting his ears off.

"It's alright" he found himself chuckling, for some reason, when you had your guard down and began talking with such passion, he found himself relaxing, warming up to your more genuine side.

"Personally I'd prefer a good meal that could be paired with some wine." He commented, he propped his arm up by placing his elbow on the table, as he leaned his cheek on his palm. "Since you came from Sumeru, have you tried any Mondstadt dishes?"

You shook your head, you didn't have a chance to because of Jean and Lisa, you bitterly thought. "How about I treat you?" he offered and suddenly the sound of your stomach pitifully grumbling was heard, you wanted to die as he said with an amused smile "I'll take that as a yes then."

Rather than actually buying you food, he took it upon himself to cook you something. The blue haired knight had borrowed the kitchen in the Ragnvindr estate. You sat patiently on a stool as you watched him worked, wondering if he was always this easy going with people? To cook for someone, well to you that was rather intimate after all.

You smelled the scent of fruit, and quickly you realized he was making his signature dish. If cooking for someone you just met wasn't intimate, then cooking your signature dish for someone you weren't even close to was definitely intimate.

"Here you go, a plate of my famous Fruity Skewers." he said after a few moments, presenting you with a plate with his signature dishes. It looked more appetizing than the base recipe which was the chicken-mushroom skewers, you could see the slices of cucumber and onions paired with the chicken and mushrooms which had a shiny coat to it, probably from the wine he used to marinate. With a hum you took a skewer and bit into it.

Kaeya watched with slight interest at how your eyes sparkled from the dish, you licked your lips after finishing a skewer and when you turned to him, any apprehension you had towards him was gone. "This is delicious!"

When you had recreated his signature dish back at home, you clearly didn't do any justice for his signature dish. Perhaps it was the wine, no, it was definitely the wine you had used that failed to capture it's essense.

"I'm glad you liked it. You are. . quite enamored with food huh?"

You weren't offended by his remarks, instead you proudly sat straighter, as you jabbed your thumb towards yourself "That's right. I'm a foodie."

"A foodie?" he repeated, a certain shift in his tone that you hadn't noticed.

"That's right," you smiled "a foodie is basically a person who is very interested in food!"

"That seems like an understatement, when I take you for an example." At his words you blushed, chuckling as you remembered how you rant off moments ago, on just the sumeru dishes alone.

The two of you began eating in the kitchens, you were sure Adelinde had pop by once but immediately closed the door but you weren't too sure. Kaeya wasn't bothered, taking the time to savor the meal as you decided to return the favor by making some desert.

I use he/they pronouns for the slime, they/them for hilichurls but some I used he/him. The samachurl is he/they. Since I'm writing a female reader, i usually use her, but it's mostly 'you'.

I'm sorry you had to leave them, it's for the story's progression.

oh and this story is going to be definitely lighthearted with a few pinches of angst, how you treat characters when you were playing the game will definitely affect their standing on you. Well at least in Jean's case.

Current compiled suggestions to name the pyro slime <3

Fuji_Sen has suggested! Lava Cake or "Java" based on the food / coffee" Fuji_Sen has suggested! Monsieur Creme Brulee or "Creme" based on the food. @Fantasyhopperhea has suggested! Soleil or "Sol" @Cactus4226 has suggested! Ruru (Py-ro, ro -> ru -> ruru) @bunniotomia has suggested! Helios or "Hel" @airyravenmaid has suggested! Cinnamon or "Cinna"

taglist:

@fantasyhopperhea @rhoswen-drake @cchiiwinkle @aman3kkun @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @bunniotomia @esthelily

@earth-to-name @fandomfan-102 @kh1ffy @jiyeons-closet @dragontammerz / @mercy-not-merci @aryuunachigiri @randomnatics @alexx197197 @keirennyx @vianitry @game-savvy @laviniadraws

If you are not tagged successfully that means tumblr thinks you are a bot (because you don't have posts, or much interaction), you have been shadowbanned, or your visibility is set to prevent you from being tagged.

check here for more info.

I recommend checking your visibility or post and reblog a couple of times to fix the issue, if you don't know if you're shadowbanned check if you have the message function, if not you probably are.

also I repeat, if this chapter is old (meaning there is a more latest one) please request to be add in the taglist there, it's much easier for me to filter the newer requests from the old ones, :'D

241 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 8 months ago

Note

Could you pleaseeee do more single dad!Eddie 🥺

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ stand by me ]

summary: after totally embarrassing yourself at eddie's kid's birthday party, the metalhead single dad from the trailer park shows you his (perhaps equally embarrassing) favorite movie. (2.9k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: eddie and maeve universe, strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, girl dad eddie munson™, fluff, ugly crying at movies

You never did crack open that bottle.

The one you accidentally brought to Eddie’s kid’s birthday party? Yeah, that one. The glass container sits unopened on the coffee table in front of you, casting amber reflections on the old wood beneath the lamplight. It’s just a silly conversation starter now. You’ve got no real reason to drink it, anyway.

There’s nothing more intoxicating than Eddie Munson’s presence.

Sunrays spill from your mouth when you tip your head back to laugh. You turn to look at the boy on the other end of the couch, and your warm cheek squishes against the cushion. “Stand By Me is not your favorite movie!” you argue, giggling softly with disbelief.

Eddie has no idea how big he’s smiling. He’s too busy staring at you to notice the beam on his face.

He shrugs his shoulders, now free from the confines of his leather jacket. He wears a faded Peanuts shirt now. A hand-me-down, you figure. “I mean… Land Before Time is a really close second,” he answers in a teasing lilt.

“Oh, yeah. Only the saddest movie ever made.”

“Maeve used to love it. And, like, not in a normal way— She used to make me play it for her until the tape spun out,” Eddie tells you, chuckling softly to himself. “It grew on me eventually, but… Then she grew out of it.”

You watch him get all forlorn at the thought. You meet his subtle pout with a scrunched nose. “Well, she’s only four, right? Surely, she hasn’t had time to grow out of much.”

Eddie scoffs and slouches further on the couch until his thighs spread. “You’d be surprised. Every time I think I— you know— start to understand her a little bit or whatever, she just… She changes, you know? Like, overnight.”

He doesn’t mean to get so suddenly sentimental about the whole thing. Especially not in front of a pretty girl he only met eight hours ago. He’ll blame it on the late night and the existential dread that always comes with birthdays. He conceals his brooding behind a dumb joke.

“I mean, just this morning, Maeve’s favorite animal was a Hefflelump… Now it’s a blobfish.”

You try to hold back your laughter. You fail. The sunshine-coated giggle sputters from your mouth despite your attempts to keep it hidden. Eddie only laughs because you are.

“I should’ve said turtle or something,” you humor with a roll of your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest. “Or, like, a badger. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten made fun of all day.”

“Those aren’t any less normal,” Eddie chuckles with a lopsided grin, dark chocolate eyes twinkling ‘cause he never really liked normal anyway.

You shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

“You wanna know something?” he blurts after a long beat of silent smiles. “When I tucked her in, she made me promise to take her to the aquarium tomorrow. Said she wanted to see ‘if the blobfish were just as gross in real life.’

You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. “Do they have blobfish at the aquarium?” you laugh.

Eddie shrugs. “Probably not. But she’ll get to pet a stingray or somethin’. Then she’ll forget all about it.”

“Sounds fun…” you murmur, picking at pills of cotton on the old couch with a suddenly anxious hand.

“Yeah. Parenting always is,” Eddie hums with a distant smile. “Even when it isn’t.”

“Should I— Should I, like, go?” you stammer.

The boy seems shocked by your question. His fluffy brows pinch as he hums. “Huh?”

You squirm, less than comfortable in your own skin. “Well, I mean, it’s… It’s getting kinda late and everything, and… If you guys are going into the city in the morning, I don’t wanna, like, keep you or whatever—”

Suddenly anxious, Eddie sits up a little straighter. “No! No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he responds, then quickly follows with wide eyes. “Unless— Unless you want to leave—”

“I don’t!” you answer, equally flustered.

Eddie forces an awkward chuckle. “I don’t want you to think I’m, like, keeping you hostage here or something—”

“I just don’t wanna overstay my welcome—”

“You couldn’t,” he insists.

You nod, and in a mousy voice, you reply, “Well, you couldn’t keep me hostage, so…”

Eddie grins. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo.

“So… Wanna watch a movie or something?” he offers with a fluttering heart and fidgeting hands.

He feels like a teenage boy all over again — only he never actually got the opportunity to ask a pretty girl out when he was a teenager. People weren’t exactly fighting to spend time with the local freak back then. Or now, really.

Except you.

“Whaddaya got?”

“Well, let’s see…” he says, grunting as he rises from the couch.

Eddie walks the short distance to the box television across the room — which Maeve has carefully decorated with a collection of sparkly stickers. He sorts through the VHS tapes stacked in less-than-organized piles with a ringed hand, realizing must’ve left all the good stuff at Wayne’s.

“Oh, you know… All the Maeve Munson favorites…” he singsongs with a sigh.

“Surprise me,” you call from the couch.

Eddie rises then, with two bulky VHSs clutched within ringed fingers. He holds them on either side of his face and grins between them. “Stand By Me or Land Before Time?”

“Stand By Me,” you answer with a firm nod. “Unless, you know, you wanna see me ugly cry.”

“That’s second date territory,” he quips with a wink, suddenly and very uncharacteristically cool. “Stand By Me it is.”

—————

You’re crying on a stranger’s couch about ninety minutes later.

The credits roll in static colors on the tiny television across from you. The low bass of a nostalgic song floats quietly through the living room — If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall… Or the mountains, should crumble to the sea…

Eddie looks on with a sympathetic beam as you hide your teary face behind your palms. He can’t tell if you’re shaking from sobs or from laughter. Maybe a healthy mixture of both. “I thought you weren’t gonna cry!” he chuckles.

You peek at him through your fingers. Your eyes are glassy with tears and squinting at the edges with a smile. “I forgot how sad it was!” you sniffle, then laugh at yourself.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry… No, I won’t shed a tear…

“You’re crying, too!” you observe as the boy beside you wipes at his eyes with his fingertips. You reach over to shove him with a playful hand. “You big softy!”

Eddie scoffs and swipes his nose with the back of his wrist. “I’m not crying! I’m just… I had something in my eye.”

“Tears?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

He nods, and with a sheepish look in his eyes, he says, “Yeah…”

Your quiet laughter entwines, filling the dim living room with something sparkly and golden. The sound of violins swells in a similar way. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as he begins singing the lyrics to himself, not really trying but sounding pretty anyway.

“Just as long, as you stand, stand by me…” he croons quietly. You beam and sing softly along with him, audibly less serious about the whole thing. “And darlin’! Darlin’! Stand by me… Oh, stand by me—”

Both of you quieten when a door squeaks about open down the hall. The distant screech is followed by the patter of tiny footsteps. Eddie huffs and sits up a little straighter. “Ah, shit…”

Your face floods with horror. “Was I too loud?” you whisper.

“No. It’s just midnight,” he answers, shaking his wild head. “She always wakes up at midnight. Like my personal little Gremlin.”

Maeve appears in the dark hallway then, drowning in one of her dad’s old t-shirts. Corroded Coffin, the front of it reads, in what seems to be hand-made lettering. The thing fits her like a gown.

Her curls sit in an untamed halo around her head from the intensity of her slumber. She rubs at her swollen eyes with chubby fists. Eddie can’t help but grin at the sight of her.

“Hey, Mayday,” he coos. “What happened? You can’t sleep?”

The girl shuffles to her father like it’s muscle memory to her. Still half-asleep, she grips his shirt with graceless fingers and climbs onto his lap with her eyes still shut. She cuddles into his torso, fitting perfectly there, while you sit frozen on the other side of the couch. Like maybe if you’re real still, she won’t notice you’re there.

“We gonna go see da blobfish now?” she wonders in tiny slurs against his chest.

Eddie’s cheek squishes against her head when he smiles. The expression gets lost in her wild chestnut locks. “Not yet, May. It’s too late— All the fishies are sleeping now. Like you should be.”

She shifts on his lap like she’s trying to get more comfortable there. Her cheek, indented with lines of sleep, rubs against his shirt when she turns to look up at him. “Need you to tuck me in,” she tells him, tiny chin bobbing against his chest.

Eddie juts back to see her better. “Again?” he humors with his brows raised behind his curly bangs.

“Mhmm,” she nods, slow and sleepy.

“Okay,” he hums, scoffing a tired chuckle. “I’ll tuck you in again, bug.”

You don’t mean to laugh. It just crawls up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. You try to hide it behind your palm, but Maeve still notices.

Her fluffy brows scrunch together when she turns to you. She swipes at the hair sticking to her cheek with a fumbling hand to see you better. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just kinda blinks at you, with a brown-eyed, emotionless gaze.

You muster a wavering smile at the girl, lifting your hand in an unsure wave.

“Wanna go see the blobfish with us tomorrow?” Maeve blurts. Though, in her less than awake state, it sounds more like wanna go see da bobfish wiv us tommowow? It’s like you can feel your heart melting.

“The aquarium,” Eddie clarifies.

You squirm in your seat. “Oh, I… I can’t,” you sigh, then follow quickly when she pouts. “I wish I could! It sounds super fun, but I’m… I’m busy…”

You aren’t, really. ‘Cause tomorrow’s Saturday — the only thing you really have to do is try to wake up before noon. You just don’t know how else to turn her down.

“Maybe next time?” Eddie offers hopefully, mostly for Maeve’s sake.

You nod rapidly, just for Maeve. “Yeah. Next time. Definitely.”

“See? It’s okay,” Eddie lilts, squeezing gently at the girl’s sides until she’s smiling again. “We can have fun just you and me, right?”

Maeve pouts in response, a sort of snarled face that’s obviously playful.

Eddie laughs loud and boyishly in return. “Hey! Don’t make that face at me!” he exclaims, feigning offense. Maeve loses her poker face almost instantly as she giggles. “Go get in bed, you weirdo. I’ll tuck you in in a second.”

“And read me another book?” she presses hopefully.

He nods, knowing it’s a fight he’s bound to lose. “And read you another book.”

“Two of them?”

The girl holds her pointer and middle finger in front of her face. Eddie chuckles and guides the latter back down with a gentle hand. “One,” he corrects.

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two!”

A brief stare-off ensues, one in which you’ve got a front-row seat. Maeve’s dark chocolate gaze resembles her father’s — button-eyed and swimming with something honeyed and stubborn. She tilts her chin to her chest and glares unwavering at the man in front of her.

Eddie inevitably caves. He sighs so deeply his chest deflates. “Fine… Two. But only if you run real fast.”

Maeves slides down his denim-clad legs until her bare feet hit the carpet. She scurries down the hall without another word, quiet giggles fading with her footsteps. Eddie slumps against the couch with a small, contented sigh.

You realize you haven’t stopped smiling for several minutes now. “She’s really sweet,” you compliment to fill the silence.

Eddie scoffs a gentle laugh. “Yeah. When she wants to be.”

The quiet returns. You run out of things to say. The notion of the late-late night settles more heavily upon you. You swallow hard and fight for a way out that doesn’t make it sound like Eddie hasn’t just given you one of the best nights of your life.

“I think I’m gonna—”

“Well, I should—”

The boy starts speaking at the same time as you. You cut each other off without trying, then laugh quietly at yourselves.

“You first,” you tell him.

“I should go tuck Maeve in before she goes all Mayday mode and starts screaming at me,” Eddie says, only partly joking.

His sweet little Maeve is only Mayday when she’s throwing a too-passionate tantrum. Or when it’s past midnight, and she’s acting like a total gremlin. He doesn’t particularly want you to witness either. ‘Cause kids tend to be pretty gnarly sometimes — especially when you aren’t the one raising them.

“Yeah, I should probably start heading home, anyway,” you reply. “It’s late.”

Eddie rises with a small huff. You follow behind him towards the front door, both of you moving with slow and heavy strides — neither particularly wanting the other to go.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” he says beneath the sound of the screeching screen door. “And for helping Maeve have a good day and everything… Most people don’t really consider hanging out with a four-year-old and her dad a good time, so…”

“Well, most people are weirdos,” you scoff and slide past him through the doorway. “You and Maeve are, like, the coolest people in Hawkins.”

You stand ahead of him on the front steps of the trailer, glowing beneath the silver moon and the buzzing amber porchlight. Eddie lingers in the entryway and holds the door open with his shoulder, so he can hear Maeve when she inevitably starts shouting for him.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he wavers with a scrunched nose. “Maeve’s pretty cool and all, but… She definitely didn’t get that from me.”

“Your favorite movies are Land Before Time and Stand By Me,” you deadpan with a flat face. A smile inevitably pulls at your lips when you look at him too long, pretty as he is. “You’re cool, Eddie. Whether you wanna be or not.”

“Agree to disagree,” he grins, totally sheepish as he shrugs off the compliment. “Thanks for hangin’ around. Again.”

He feels like he’s said that too many times now, but he’s too full of gratitude to stop. It’s been just him and Maeve for so long. And, yeah, sure, Steve and Robin come around when they can, but they’ve got their own lives outside of this one. It isn’t every day someone appears at his trailer with a bottle of booze and the wherewithal to acclimate to his chaotic life.

Eddie feels like he should never stop thanking you, really.

You shrug. “Thanks for keeping me around. Again.”

“See you soon?” he wonders with a hopeful glint in his dark eyes, made a much lighter amber in the moonlight.

You nod firmly once. “‘Course.”

And even though that’s as good a dismissal as any, you both linger in the doorway still. Like your feet are glued in place.

How are you supposed to walk away from him? The man with wild rockstar curls, rings on each finger, and a beaded bracelet with his daughter’s initial in the very center. The man who loves cartoons more than his toddler and cries with you at sad movies?

You figure you’ll spend forever chasing this foreign feeling he’s so effortlessly given you.

“Daddy!” Maeve shouts. Her high-pitched voice rings through the tiny trailer. It makes you wince a little. You didn’t think something so tiny could be so loud.

“And there’s Mayday…” Eddie lilts quietly, unflinching ‘cause he’s used to this by now.

“I’ll go,” you laugh, walking backward towards your car. “I’ll— I’ll see you around.”

“G’night,” he calls to you as he watches you go.

His chest stings when he realizes he never asked for your number. It feels much too awkward to do it now, and he’s only got a few minutes more before Maeve goes crazy on him. He should’ve asked you ages ago, really. But he didn’t. ‘Cause he’s an idiot.

You notice it, too, but you flash him a sheepish smile over your shoulder anyway. Even if you never hear from him again after you’re gone, you figure there’s always next year.

Maeve will be another year older. Steve will bring you along to her party if you beg. Eddie will be in desperate need of a pick-me-up, and you’ll bring a bottle of booze just to make him smile. The alcohol will go untouched, though, as the two of you get lost in conversation and Stand By Me.

Even if all this was only destined to happen once every year — even if it was only supposed to happen once and never again — you’ll spend the rest of your life grateful that it happened at all.

With a cold hand trembling with longing, you wrench your car door open. Though your heart’s heavy with a distant worry that you may never be back here again, you grin at him through the grief and the small distance between you.

“Good night, Eddie.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #eddie and maeve

722 notes · View notes

minhosbitterriver · 4 months ago

Text

𑁍ࠬܓ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( stray kids )

❛ In which the members of Stray Kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This request was absolutely devastating to write, thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N has passed away, each member is a single father still in love with you, mentions of grief, some of the kids fall under the LGBTQ+ community.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

Chan's office was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the desk lamps, casting a warm yet somber light across the room. The gentle hum of the night time silence was broken only by the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his three-year-old daughter, who lay peacefully on the worn leather couch. Her tiny face, so serene in slumber, was a haunting mirror of your beautiful features, stirring a profound ache in Chan's heart.

As he watched her, tears began to silently trace their way down his cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his sorrow and longing. He could still hear your final, trembling words: "Love her twice as much in my absence." The memory was a dagger, twisting with the relentless guilt and grief that had become his constant companions. The sight of his daughter's innocent face, so reminiscent of you, only deepened his anguish.

Today had been especially trying. Chan had promised his little girl a joyous outing to the park, a precious respite from his hectic work schedule. But the day took an unexpected turn when Changbin called in a panic, frantically searching for the nearly completed recording of their latest song. What Chan had hoped would be a swift resolution morphed into hours of desperate searching, only to end in the devastating realization that they would have to begin the recording anew.

All the while, his daughter’s patience wore thin. She had no toys, no distractions, just the suffocating boredom of waiting. Her disappointment was palpable, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Chan felt like he was failing her, failing in the promise he had made to you. Driven by the need to make amends, he gently woke his daughter. Her initial crankiness gave way to curiosity as he apologized for breaking his promise and proposed a sleepover at home. Movies, games, a fort, and endless cuddles — her eyes sparkled at the thought, and her frown dissolved into giggles.

At home, they transformed the living room into a magical fortress of pillows and blankets, a sanctuary just for them. They watched animated tales, played games, and reveled in the simple joy of being together. Wrapped in the cozy embrace of their fort, she eventually succumbed to sleep once more, nestled against him. Her hair, a tousled mess, and a small trail of drool on his shirt were endearing reminders of her tender age and boundless trust in him.

Chan held her close, his heart swelling with love and a bittersweet yearning. She was the living embodiment of his heart, and as he gazed at her, he whispered a vow into the stillness of the night. He promised to love her with all his might, carrying the weight of both his love and the part of you that would forever reside in their lives. In that quiet moment, amidst the echoes of his promises, he felt a fragile sense of peace, knowing that as long as he held her, he was keeping your memory alive.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

Minho lay in the dim, soft glow of his bedroom, shadows whispering across the walls as the twins slept peacefully beside him. Their tiny forms had claimed your side of the bed, filling the void where your presence once brought warmth and comfort. The night he returned home with the babies, he had attempted to sleep alone, but the emptiness was unbearable. He tossed and turned, haunted by the silence, until one of the babies began to cry, inevitably waking the other. In his desperation to soothe them, he gathered every pillow he could find, crafting a makeshift crib in his bed. Their delicate features softened in the calm of his presence, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

As Minho gazed at their angelic faces, hands entwined even in slumber, his heart ached with the weight of your absence. How could he begin to process this loss? You had spent almost ten months nurturing these little miracles, only to be taken away before you could revel in the beauty of their existence. Ten months of creating life, and you would never witness the serene way they held hands in their sleep. Ten months of dreams and hopes, and you would miss their first birthdays, graduations, weddings. It was unbearably cruel, and Minho’s soul was tormented by the thought.

You wouldn’t even be here to laugh about the pregnancy mix-up that had both of you convinced it would be a boy and a girl, only to welcome two beautiful baby girls into the world. His friends had offered to stay and help, but he had declined, needing the solitude to grapple with his grief. Now, in the stillness of the night, he questioned if he had made the right choice.

Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks as the full weight of his new reality settled over him. He was to raise these precious little princesses on his own, and the responsibility felt crushing. Yet, as he watched their peaceful slumber, he knew he had to summon every ounce of strength for them. They were his world now, the living, breathing remnants of your love. He vowed to cherish them, to love them fiercely, and to guide them through life with unwavering dedication, for they were all he had left of you, and he was all they had.

In the hushed silence, he whispered promises into the night, pledging to be the best father he could be. He would ensure they knew how deeply you loved them, even if you couldn’t be there to tell them yourself. And as he held them close, feeling the rise and fall of their tiny chests, a fragile peace washed over him. He knew that in every laugh, every tear, and every milestone, you would be there in spirit, guiding him, loving them, always.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the park as Changbin and his 13-year-old son sat on a weathered wooden bench, savoring their ice cream. The park buzzed with the laughter of children, their joy mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Parents lounged on the grass, basking in the last light of day, while Changbin watched his son’s face light up with a blush as he received a message.

Changbin couldn’t resist teasing him. "Who’s got you smiling like that?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

His son’s cheeks reddened further, and he looked away, trying to hide his smile. "Just a girl from school," he mumbled, glancing at his phone. "She texted to congratulate me on today’s soccer game."

Changbin’s interest was piqued. "A girl, huh? Do you like her?" he inquired gently, but his son just rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After a while, his son broke the comfortable silence with a question that took Changbin by surprise. "Dad, how did you know Mom was the one for you?"

Changbin's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and nostalgia. He took a deep breath, the memory washing over him like a tender wave. "Well," he began softly, "it was before you were born. Your mom and I had only been dating for a few months. One evening, we decided to take a ride on my motorcycle to grab some food. On the way back, she spotted a bookstore and got all excited. She tapped my shoulder and pointed it out, her eyes sparkling like a child's. I couldn't say no to that."

He smiled, lost in the memory. "We stopped, and I handed her my card, telling her to get whatever she wanted. She promised she’d come out empty-handed, but I knew better." He chuckled, remembering your sheepish yet triumphant expression as you emerged with a bag hidden behind your back. "She ended up buying two books and couldn’t stop talking about them, her excitement contagious. When I told her I was glad she found something, she did this little dance of joy before climbing back onto the bike. She had to hold the bag since her backpack was already stuffed with our food, but she was too happy to care."

Changbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "That’s when I knew she was the one. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was her pure joy in the little things, her passion for life. I wish you could have known her. She loved you so much, even before you were born."

His son’s eyes mirrored his own longing and admiration. "I wish I’d known her too," he said softly. "My goal in life is to find my soulmate, like you found Mom. I want to love someone as much as you loved her."

Changbin’s heart ached with pride and sorrow. "You deserve to have someone by your side for a long time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "Who knows, maybe this girl from school is your one."

His son groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he nudged Changbin, causing his ice cream to topple onto the ground. Changbin laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the park. His own ice cream slipped from his grasp, joining his son’s on the pavement, and they both burst into laughter, the joy of the moment a soothing balm to their hearts.

In that golden hour, surrounded by the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared memories, Changbin felt a profound sense of peace. Despite the heartache and loss, he and his son would continue to find love and joy in the little things, just as you had taught him. And in those moments of laughter and connection, he felt your presence with them, a silent guardian watching over their journey, smiling at their shared happiness.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with memories, each piece of furniture and every stroke of paint a testament to the love and labor he had shared with you. His heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia as he looked around, his mind filled with the echoes of laughter and the whispers of cherished moments.

He remembered the countless hours spent building the furniture, the frustration and triumph mingling as he struggled with stubborn screws, while you sat nearby, reading the instructions with a patience that never failed to calm him. The nursery walls, painted in a tapestry of happy themes, bore the marks of your combined artistic talents, creating a sanctuary for the new life you both awaited with eager anticipation.

The night he returned home with the baby, your absence a gaping void beside him, was etched into his soul. He had sat in the rocking chair, the one he had bought especially for you, cradling the fragile bundle in his arms, paralyzed by the fear of being alone. Many nights, he had dozed off in that chair, too afraid to leave its comforting embrace, haunted by the silence that your departure had left behind.

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the day he found your child drawing on the walls, their tiny hands busy creating a colorful mural over your delicate paintings. It had pained him to see your work altered, but the sight of their concentrated little face, so much like yours, had softened his heart. He had chosen to let them be creative, to express themselves freely, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of you.

He thought of the time his six-year-old had cried in his arms, their tiny body trembling with confusion and hurt because they didn't fit in with the boys or the girls. Hyunjin had held them close, whispering reassurances, his heart breaking at the familiar pain. It had been a long journey, but he had worked tirelessly to make their home a sanctuary of love and acceptance.

The memories came in a flood, each one a cherished gem: the summer in middle school when they returned home with bags of new clothes and put on a fashion show, proudly displaying their androgynous style; the pride parade, where he meticulously placed sticky rainbow gems on their face, their giddy excitement lighting up the day; and finally, the day they graduated and moved out, leaving behind an empty room filled with the ghosts of the past.

Tears rolled down Hyunjin’s face as he sat in the rocking chair, now old and creaky, thinking of all the moments he had cherished yet wished he could have shared with you. The weight of the memories pressed down on him, a heavy, inescapable burden.

Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him from his reverie. He hastily wiped his tears and saw it was a FaceTime call from his child. He answered, and their beaming face filled the screen, the excitement in their eyes mirrored by the twinkling fairy lights in their new apartment's bedroom.

“Hey, Dad! Look at my new room!” they exclaimed, panning the camera around to show off their new space, their voice bubbling with pride and joy.

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with pride and love. “It looks amazing, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you,” they confessed, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can we spend the first night together, through the phone?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, trying to mask his lingering sadness. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving out?”

They laughed, a sound that was pure and unfiltered joy. “Maybe, but I know you’re in my old room crying already.”

He laughed too, the heaviness lifting just a bit. “You got me there.”

They didn’t hang up, staying connected through the screen as the night deepened. Hyunjin lay back in the rocking chair, his child propped up in their new bed, both finding solace in the familiar presence of each other. As they talked and laughed, Hyunjin realized that though you weren’t physically there, your spirit lived on in these moments, in the love that continued to bind them together. And for now, that was enough.

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

Jisung found his seven-year-old child hidden within the treehouse that the three of you had built together. This small wooden sanctuary, once filled with laughter and joy, now bore the heavy weight of sorrow. They were still in their funeral attire, the black clothes contrasting sharply against the soft glow of the setting sun. The murmurs of the guests lingering in the backyard became a distant, indistinct hum as Jisung climbed into the treehouse, his heart burdened with grief and a simmering anger at the universe for taking you away so cruelly.

His son's youthful face was etched with a grief that seemed too profound for such a young soul. Jisung felt a surge of helplessness as he reached out, pulling his child close, wrapping him in an embrace meant to shield him from the cruel world outside. “I miss Mom,” came the soft, heart-wrenching whisper, each word a dagger to Jisung’s already shattered heart.

“I miss Mom too,” Jisung murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. They sat together in silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on them like an insurmountable force.

It had been nearly a year since you had fallen ill, the sickness so severe that the doctors had given you only a few months at most. Yet, you had defied their grim prognosis, your spirit burning brightly despite the frailty of your body. Jisung remembered the countless nights spent by your side, swallowing his fears and anger as you spoke of your impending death with a calm acceptance that had always made him furious. To him, it felt as though you had given up, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t wanted to waste what little time you had left fighting an unwinnable battle. Perhaps if he had truly listened, if he had embraced those fleeting moments instead of railing against them, he might have cherished your final days more deeply.

His son, too young to fully grasp the concept of death, struggled with the finality of it all. He understood that you would never return, yet accepting it was a different matter entirely. Jisung’s heart broke anew each time he saw the confusion and sorrow in his child’s eyes, a mirror of his own torment.

Holding his son tighter, Jisung wished he could find the right words to ease the pain, to make sense of a world that had suddenly lost its light. But words failed him, crumbled under the weight of their shared grief. Instead, he let the silence speak, hoping the strength of his embrace could convey the love and comfort his words could not.

The treehouse, once a symbol of their shared joy, now held their sorrow. The walls, which had echoed with laughter and dreams, now seemed to absorb their pain, standing as silent witnesses to their loss. But within this small, sacred space, surrounded by the memories of happier times, Jisung hoped they could begin to heal. He would be there for his son, a steadfast presence in the storm of their grief, guiding him through the darkness with a love that, while tested, remained unbroken.

As the last light of day faded, Jisung held his son close, both finding a semblance of solace in each other’s presence. In the quiet, grief-stricken aftermath, they began to forge a new bond, one tempered by loss but strengthened by their enduring love. And in that silent communion, Jisung found a glimmer of hope that they would eventually find their way through the darkness together.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

In a home where the relentless energy of three young girls and their single father painted every day with hues of joyous chaos, peace was a fleeting visitor. The air thrummed with the symphony of exuberant laughter, the vibrant discord of simultaneous chatter, and the relentless rhythm of youthful exuberance. Yongbok would never trade this tempestuous world for anything, yet a hollow ache lingered for the presence of the one who had been the steady heartbeat of their lives.

Your sudden departure had cast a profound shadow over their once lively abode, transforming it into a quieter realm where your laughter’s echoes were replaced by an oppressive silence. As time wove its delicate fabric over the jagged edges of grief, the house gradually adjusted to a new cadence, yet the weight of your absence hung heavy in every corner.

Despite this, Yongbok discovered fragments of you embedded within the fabric of their daily lives. He saw your essence in the selfless nurturing of his eldest daughter, who had seamlessly stepped into the role of co-caregiver. Her quiet acts of love and responsibility were a poignant echo of the devotion you had always shown, a continuation of your spirit in her every gesture.

In the middle child’s vibrant monologues about obscure topics, Yongbok glimpsed your enduring influence. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge mirrored the intellectual curiosity you had nurtured, each passionate explanation a living testament to your legacy.

The youngest, with her mischievous gleam and boundless spirit, kept Yongbok perpetually on his toes. Her playful antics and joyful mischief were a vivid reminder of the vivacity you had infused into their home, a living echo of the light you had brought into their lives.

In the quiet moments, Yongbok could still feel your presence. The post-it notes left in his lunch bag by his eldest daughter, each inscribed with a simple message of love, were imbued with your warmth. The tender strokes of his middle daughter’s fingers through his hair during their movie nights were a silent connection to you. And in the gentle inquiries of his youngest, her head peeking around the door to ensure he was alright, he felt the deep compassion you had instilled in her.

Though you were absent from the milestones and daily rhythms, your essence lived on through them. In the small, tender acts of affection and love, you continued to be a cherished part of their lives, an enduring presence in their hearts.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin had been absent through the vast expanse of your pregnancy, the relentless demands of touring keeping him away. He returned just in time to witness the birth, only to be swallowed by the crushing weight of your absence. The pain of missing those precious moments with you, of not being there to share in the miracle of your last days, was a wound that never healed. This haunting regret followed him, a constant reminder of a future lost.

The day you passed, Seungmin left Stray Kids, unable to bear the weight of the stage without you by his side. He couldn’t find solace in the bright lights or the rhythms of his music. Instead, he focused on his two sons—an older one, now sixteen, and a younger one, now twelve. The older boy, once a vibrant spirit, had retreated into the shadows of his room, his once lively demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. The baseball games that had once bound them together now lay abandoned, and Seungmin, despite the storm within, knew he had to reach out.

Determined to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, Seungmin planned a day just for the two of them. He left the youngest with his closest friend, Jeongin, and took his older son out. The car ride was a quiet procession of unspoken thoughts, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them. When they finally arrived at their destination, Seungmin braced himself, ready to face the tender fracture of their relationship.

It took patience, but eventually, the silence broke. The older boy revealed his feelings for a boy at school, emotions that he struggled to understand. Seungmin was taken aback, but he remained calm, his heart aching with a blend of surprise and concern. As his son’s tears fell freely, Seungmin pulled him into a tender embrace, his own heart aching with a mixture of empathy and love. He whispered reassurances into his son’s hair, promising acceptance and protection, vowing to stand by him no matter what.

The boy, still tearful but comforted, then showed Seungmin a small journal. Inside was a song he had penned, a poignant melody woven with the threads of his conflicted feelings for the boy at school. The song was hauntingly beautiful, a reflection of his son’s delicate soul and burgeoning talent. Seungmin’s heart swelled with pride and love as he listened, recognizing the echoes of his own musical spirit in his child’s creation.

As the day drew to a close, Seungmin received a snapshot from Jeongin—his youngest child, covered in dirt and beaming with the joy of a day spent playing baseball. The image was a burst of pure happiness, a vivid reminder that even amidst the sorrow, moments of light and joy persisted.

As the sun set, Seungmin felt a renewed connection with his older son, a fragile yet precious bond rekindled through their shared experiences and heartfelt conversation. Though the regret of not being there for you lingered, he found solace in the fact that he was striving to be the father you would have been proud of. In the quiet moments of the evening, he hoped, with all his heart, that wherever you were, you watched over them and felt a deep pride in the man he was becoming—a father striving to honor your memory through the love and strength he gave to your family.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

Jeongin’s youngest daughter was a restless spirit, her stubborn yet carefree nature a constant reminder of the love she once shared with you. Each burst of laughter, every defiant flicker of joy, was a living echo of your vibrant presence. In contrast, his oldest son was a mirror of Jeongin’s own meticulous nature, his life meticulously ordered, each ambition carefully planned.

Lately, Jeongin’s heart had been heavy with worry. His daughter, brimming with reckless exuberance, frequently dashed off to meet a boy Jeongin knew was unworthy. The thought of her entangled with someone without a future gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of concern. As he lay awake at night, the silence seemed to taunt him, and he often found himself wondering how you would have navigated these troubled waters if you had still been there to guide them.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly through the window, Jeongin was wrenched from sleep by the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. His heart raced as he followed the cries to his daughter’s room. He paused at the door, the murmur of his son’s voice cutting through the silence. The room, once a sanctuary of dreams, was now a cocoon of whispered regrets and stifled tears. His daughter’s voice wavered with the weight of her shame, confessing her feelings of foolishness for having trusted the boy. His son, with a soothing calmness that mirrored your gentle strength, reassured her that she wasn’t foolish, merely swept up in the exhilarating tide of young love. He told her she deserved better than a boy with no future, his words a soft balm to her wounded spirit.

Jeongin’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he heard his son’s comforting tones, the echoes of your nurturing spirit resonating in his voice. After a few moments, he gathered the courage to step into the room. His eyes were tender with understanding as he took in the scene: his daughter’s tear-streaked face, her hands buried in her lap. Her cries grew louder as she saw him, her embarrassment palpable as she shielded her face with her hands.

Jeongin knelt before her, his expression a blend of love and compassion. Gently, he reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face to hold them in his own. His touch was a lifeline, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“You told me so, I know,” she choked out, her voice a trembling whisper.

“I would never say that, my love,” Jeongin murmured, his voice rich with tenderness. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. His gaze met his son’s, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I know it hurts,” Jeongin whispered into her hair, his voice a soothing melody against her ear, “but this isn’t the end.” His embrace was a warm cocoon, a sanctuary of love amidst the storm of her emotions. The night unfolded in a delicate tapestry of comfort and hope, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together, even in the quiet absence of your guiding presence.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @bowsnbang @nothinginterestingtoshowhere

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

261 notes · View notes

azen13 · 2 months ago

Note

Hello

might I request the grass ring for purchase?

A Promise To Keep

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Grass Ring: A small, shoddily-woven ring made from dead grass, containing echoes of childhood promises uttered in a land of frost. Maybe the ring’s maker, after disappearing from the world for three months before returning, acted on those vows.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CW: Yandere Themes, Kidnapping, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Implied Murder, Blood

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Snezhnayan summers are always brief and fleeting. For only a few weeks a year, gray skies part like curtains to let the smiling sun gaze over every mile of the land of frost. Withered fields of grass sway with new vigor, trees awaken from their winter slumber, and flowers bloom in all sorts of stunning shades and hues. It’s also one of the few respites you have from aiding your father and siblings in tending to the house. With the icy waters bordering Morepesok rapidly thawing, the ship your mother sails has finally docked; with her return comes both the occasional small sack of Mora sneakily smuggled from her pocket to yours, as well as a gentle push to go and enjoy the fair weather while it lasts.

With windmilling limbs, you scramble out the front door into the bustling streets of town, and head off to your favorite place. It’s a little past where the dirt path ends: over a fallen tree, down a ravine, back up the other side, and just to the right of the raspberry bushes. Making your way through the last few trees, you find yourself in a quaint clearing. For a moment, you think the world is frozen in amber–both from the tranquility you feel, and how everything from the tallest tree to the smallest fern is bathed in a gilded glow.

“Hi there!”

A squeaky voice shatters the illusion of permanence and manages to make you stumble backwards until you slam into a sturdy spruce tree trunk. Looking into the tall grass, you manage to spot a single sapphire blue eye, then another. With a rustle, a flame of ginger hair and a grin that could span the whole of Teyvat pops out from the brush, framed by a speckling of freckles. “Who are you? What are you doing here? My name’s Ajax, what’s yours?” The boy practically pelts you with a myriad of questions, eyes sparkling with interest.

You mumble your name in response, eyes falling down in fear and disappointment. You had hoped to enjoy some time soaking in the solitude of this little slice of paradise, but the journey seems to have been all for naught.

You quickly learn the entire life story of Ajax, who follows you home after you tell him you had gotten lost in the woods. He lives in Morepesok with his large family, he likes adventuring, and he likes fishing with his father. Also, he likes you, evidenced by the fact that he won’t leave you alone.

Tailing from behind, still rambling incoherently about all sorts of things, Ajax doesn’t seem to take the obvious hints that you want to be left alone. “...and the fish we caught was THIS big! A-and me and my dad brought it home, and my little sis–I told you about Tonia, right? She’s my younger sister, she’s about this tall and she really likes…” His mouth is a never-ending river of words that only ceases when you slam the door to your home shut.

Hopefully you can go tomorrow and enjoy the warm summer sun before the chill of winter returns once more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He’s there when you come tomorrow again. And the next day. And the day after that, until eventually, summer’s brief stint has faded away, only to return in a year. At least, you think, you won’t have to ever see Ajax until.

How wrong you are.

It seems the boy is practically camped outside of your house, watching your every move. If you’re carrying groceries, he’s quick to sidle next to you and take them into his own hands. He must think he’s being chivalrous, but you disagree. You try to fight the constant barrage, but find yourself crumbling under it after a while. You start answering his questions, asking some of your own, even. He’s not horrible, just a little overeager.

Soon, you’re happy to call Ajax a friend.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The promise is made on a brisk fall evening, snow and leaves blanketing the ground like a patchwork quilt of white and orange. The two of you sit in a small clearing surrounded by tall grass; you’re reading a book while Ajax breaks blades of grass and fiddles with them in his hands.

“We should get married.”

You frown and close your book. “Why?

“Why not?”

“Because we’re thirteen, your dad doesn’t like me, and my parents think you’re a weirdo,” you say.

Ajax huffs and crosses his arms. He’s pouting, but you can tell it’s just to cover his amusement. You’d both gotten good at that–reading each other like books, able to point out your favorite chapters and lines. “Well we could do it in secret. Or even do it when we’re older,” he says. An epiphanic look flashes on his face, and he snatches a few more blades of grass. Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, you watch as he weaves and contorts the grass until they form a small ring.

With eyes full of starlight, he presents the ring to you. “C’mon, please? Just promise me.”

You sigh and hold your hand out. “Okay, okay, fine. If you’ll stop being so annoying, sure.” Immediately, he slides the ring on your finger, boyish glee dancing in ocean-blue eyes. “Pinky promise?” He demands, holding his pinky finger out expectantly.

Of course Ajax would ask to pinky swear on it. The boy always kept his promises.

“Fine.” You loop your pinky around his for a moment, before letting go. “Now let me get back to reading.”

Ajax only laughs, though his eyes stay glued on you.

You didn’t realize that this was both the last time you would ever see Ajax again, and the moment your fate in life was sealed.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Days later, you receive the news. Ajax is missing. Supposedly he had gotten lost in the woods. You spent the next few days in a perpetual state of distress, constantly tearing through branches and brambles, desperate to find your friend.

It didn’t take long until he’s found, though not by you. The moment you hear, you race over to his house and knock on the door. Ajax’s dad, however, is the one to greet you. He’s a tall, lanky man with scars that cut through his face and a permanent scowl marring his cracked lips. At the sight of you standing outside his door, his ire only deepens. “Ajax isn’t here. He’s with the Fatui.”

With that, he swings the door shut and lets it slam only inches from your face.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Time moves on, and you let your life take its course. You take up a job planning shipping routes for merchants, and find yourself falling in half-hearted love with a sailor.

He’s a good man. But he is not the man you love.

Soon enough, encouraged by family and friends, a ring is slid on your finger. It’s a simple band of silver, yet it feels like a chain around your heart.

You accept your life for what it is. That is, until one morning, you wake up to still air beside you instead of a warm body. Unknowing of what has actually happened, you get up quietly and begin getting ready for the day.

After putting on some clothes, you go to the small foyer of your little home, ready to go down to the docks and start working. But when you swing open the door, dull blue eyes as deep as the sea meet yours, a monstrous grin splitting a stranger’s face open. “Aw, it’s been so long! It’s so good to see you.” The man walks past you into your home as though he’s lived there his whole life. As he walks, you notice he’s trailing something in behind you.

Blood. It’s blood. When he turns back to face you, you notice droplets of blood speckled on his cheeks like freckles. He’s still smiling.

“Get out of my house,” you say.

“Or what?”

You hesitate. It’s not like Morepesok has an official police, or even anything close to a militia. “Or I’ll scream.”

The stranger’s smile melts away like snow under the sun, and he steps closer to you. “Don’t you remember who I am?” He asks.

At the sight of you shaking your head, and you taking another step away from him, the stranger tsks and stalks forwards. A hand moves forward, so fast all you can see is a blur of motion before it captures your jaw, claims it. Its fingers force your face forwards, straight into those storming eyes. “What a shame,” the man sighs, his other hand slinking behind your back. “We made a promise, darling.”

His words shoot like icicles into your heart, rendering you speechless for a moment. “A-Ajax?” You murmur, body beginning to fall limp. The only thing holding you upright are his hands, firm against your skin.

Ajax smiles, but it isn’t a sweet smile of summer innocence. His smile is jagged and icy, full of frost. “It’s me,” he confirms. You can vaguely see mirth swimming in his eyes, as though he thinks you’re so shocked to see him, so elated to know he’s still here. But in truth, you’re terrified. After all, it’s not exactly a challenge to make the connection between the blood on Ajax’s cheek and your missing husband.

“Did…did you?”

“Come on, darling,” Ajax responds, sweeping you off your feet into a bridal carry. “We made a promise, didn’t we? And you know how the saying goes.” The man chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We made a promise. And you broke it.” For a moment, you feel fear unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “But don’t worry. I know that you didn’t want to marry him. You were waiting all those years for me, weren’t you?” He presses another kiss to your head, holding you closer.

You try to speak, but Ajax shushes you. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you what real love looks like.” With a steady gait, he begins walking outside, looping around your home to where a carriage is waiting. Gently, he brings you inside and deposits you on a bench. His eyes are full of hunger.

“That’s a promise.”

177 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

End Game 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: have a great friday, dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Maris Street. You rarely go that way. It’s near the core of the town, closer to the west end where green hedges and white picket fences cordon off the suburban elite from the commoners like you. It suits him, doesn’t it? You assume this is what he’s used to.

The venom roils in your gut as you approach Oxford Drive. You stop before the sleek grey exterior. The black trims and large golden moniker in all caps add to the extravagant effect. Flowers boxes stand outside the windows that glow amber with rich ambience from within. The nicest place you ever went was the Korean Barbecue your dorm mate dragged you to; this is well beyond that.

You take a breath and look down at yourself. You’re still wearing the black jeans and plain tee you sport for your job. Former job. Your beat-up sneakers perfectly match your thrifted aesthetic and the purse strap twisted around your hand and wrist frays as if to assure everyone that you don’t belong.

You go to the front door and pull it open. You step inside to the low drone of stringy music and the subtle clink of glasses amid the low murmur of voices. You chew your lip as you approach the tall round desk where the hostess stands over the open reservation book, like some mystical keeper of scrolls. How very Skyrim of her.

She gives you a look, one you expect. You sniff and cross your arms, the strap of your purse further straining your circulation. You exhale and peek over at the dining room.

“Hi, I um...” your cheeks pinch as you find it difficult to speak. “I’m meeting someone.”

“You are?" Her skepticism drips from her voice, “are you certain they’re... here?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if he made a reservation or whatever. Obviously, I’m not a regular,” you snipe back. You’re too exasperated to hold back. You don’t need her judging you too. “Older, beard, uh, tall... Andy Barber. Is he in the book?”

She flutters her pretty lashes and looks down. You watch her. She’s a few years older than you. Tall, balayaged hair, slender, perfectly bowed lips. What about her? Or someone like her? Why wouldn’t he want that instead? Why is he bothering you?

“Barber,” she nods, “yes, he’s here.”

She seems surprised by that. She steps out from behind the desk and tells you to follow. You obey. You have to. This is all just pulling teeth. He has you toothless already.

You keep your head down as you trail behind her. You only look up as you sense a figure on the other side of her. Andy stands as you approach and you nearly choke. You want so bad to just turn around and run away.

A line deepens in his forehead and disappears. He smiles as the hostess waves you forward. He comes around to pull out the other chair before you can. You retract your arm and barely withhold your frustration. Can’t he understand you want nothing from him?

You sit stiff and fix your bag in your lap, slowly unwinding the strap from your wrist. The hostess promises a server will be with you soon and struts away. You stare at the table cloth and as Andy sits, darkening the edge of your vision, you turn to glare at the far wall.

You feel even more demeaned sitting there in your jeans in tea among the crystal and tall-stemmed lilies. The tinkle of the soft woodwind music makes your head buzz yet the smell of the food teases your empty stomach. Your eyes drift to a group of older women, laughing over wine, a symbol of what you’ll never be. Happy. Free.

“Thanks for meeting me. I guess you’ve never been here before,” Andy begins.

You shake your head and flick your eyes to the ceiling. You grit down on his words. Why is he acting like this is normal?

“Nice place, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you snap and look at him directly, nearly growling in his face, “very nice. Upscale. Well above me.”

You cross your arms and sit back, your purse strap still loosely clinging to your wrist. His chest rises and he exhales through his nose. He leans forward and his cheek ticks.

“I brought you here for dinner, so we could talk, get to know each other--”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” you insist, almost teary-eyed from your rage. You don’t like being angry. You’ve never been very good at and more times, you end up blubbering. “Kara, my friend--”

He tilts his chin up and sets his gaze firmly on you, “we’ll get to that.”

“No, now,” you hiss.

He huffs through his nose. He looks around, silently chewing his agitation. He sits up and replaces that manufactured smile as a server approaches.

“Good evening, can I get you started with drinks?” He asks, his dark shirt finely pressed and buttoned to the very top.

“No thank--” you begin.

“We’ll take a bottle of cabernet,” Andy interjects, “for the table. Oh, and could we get some fresh bread. This has been sitting out.”

The server acquiesces and takes the basket as Andy hands over the wine menu. You barely keep from rolling your eyes. You’re not here to eat and drink and be merry. Kara is quite possibly behind bars.

You glare at him and wait. The server leaves as you keep your arms folded, fingers clamped tightly. He looks at you as if there’s nothing wrong. As if this is all normal.

“I want to know what’s going to happen to Kara. You said you can help--”

“I can,” he says casually, “so let’s have a nice dinner and then I’ll do just that.”

“But she’s--”

“They’ll have her in holding, question her, then they’ll have to figure out charges, yada, yada,” he explains, “don’t worry, I’ll give them a call after, tell them my client is invoking her right to an attorney.”

Your chest thumps and your ears ring. He’s so confident. He already knows you can’t say no. Not to him or this dinner. You have to sit there and celebrate his victory that came with your defeat. It’s not right. It’s... it’s... deranged.

“Why?” You croak.

“Why?” He shakes his head.

“Why are you doing this? Why me? Why not someone... someone you can relate to? Someone your age?”

“Why you? You’re perfect, sweetheart. Perfect for me,” he coos, “come on, we get along. We did. I know I messed things up but it can’t change that we had fun. We did, didn’t we?”

You swallow and shrug. Those nights you stayed up and mined or raced or whatever, they were fun, they were nights you look forward to. But every single one was a lie.

“Sure, but... what if I’d lied to you? What if I wasn’t me? What if I was some guy in a basement--”

“You weren’t.”

“But what if--”

“I know you weren’t.”

“How could you know--”

“I just did. You’re so genuine, so... kind, that can’t be fake,” he insists.

You sink down, slumping your shoulders, and look away. What can you do? You’re exactly where you never wanted to be. With less options. With none.

“What do you want from me?” Your dry mouth crackles around your words.

He’s quiet as the server returns. He sits back and you lift your chin as you watch the server uncork the bottle. He pours the wine and Andy asks for a few more minutes with the menu. Again, you have no appetite.

When you’re alone again, Andy takes a breath and shifts in his chair. He brings his hands together, pinching his left ring finger as if he’s missing something. He quickly pulls his hands apart.

“You. That’s all I want,” he breathes.

You stare at him. You don’t understand. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to. If you keep denying it, it might not be the very idea that makes your skin crawl.

He reaches for his glass of wine and holds it out. You stare at it, then look him in the face. You can’t wipe the horror from your face.

“Cheers to us, sweetheart,” he says, “me and you.”

You shake your head as he waits. Slowly you take the glass before you and raise it. He clinks the crystal between you.

“It’s the first day of the rest of our lives,” he declares, “we can both build the home we always wanted. Together.”

🎮

Andy pays the bill as you wallow in futility. This is it. Your life is over. All because of one mistake. All because you trusted the wrong person.

He stands first and you follow. He grabs the to-go box of the food you barely touched. You’re in such a fog, you can barely think. He gestures you towards the door as he nudges you with the box. You hug your purse to your stomach and walk between the tables.

The cool night air wakes you up. As you come to the sidewalk, you stop. You turn back to him and wet your mouth, a hint of wine on your tongue.

“Call. Right now,” your voice shakes.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” He inclines his head as if he doesn’t understand.

“The police. Call. You said you would help Kara,” you insist.

His brow arches and he nods. He holds out the container and you take it stiffly, letting your purse dangle from your shoulder. He pulls out his phone as he stares at you. Finally, he looks down and scrolls. He clears his throat before he puts it to his ear.

“Hi, yes, this is Andy Barber, I’m an attorney for a woman in your custody. Yes, I do.” You listen to the piecemeal conversation, “name is Kara Orascio. Yes, she won’t be talking to the police any longer. That’s correct.” He pauses and listens intently, “I’m out of town but I can be there tomorrow. Sure.”

He hangs up as his eyes cling to you still.

“So, looks like we need to pack,” he says.

“What?” You utter.

“Don’t you want to see your friend?” He challenges.

“Well, yes, but I thought you--”

“I’m not coming back here again. So, you’re coming. We’ll deal with your friend’s charges then we’ll go home.”

You blink, “home?”

“Sure, sweetheart, I got it all ready for you,” he turns down the sidewalk and takes your hand.

You have the urge to rip your hand out of his. You want to tell him not to touch you. You want to scream and run away. You don’t because you want to save Kara more.

“I meant what I said before. I can get you into school down there,” he guides you along, “you’ll like it. It's close to Boston. Place called Nelson. You ever been to Massachusetts?”

“Hm, no, didn’t travel much.”

“That’s okay. We can do some of that too. Still got lots of summer left. We could go somewhere sunny,” he drawls, “you know, it gets gloomy in the fall so we may as well enjoy it while we can.”

“Sure,” you murmur.

Your feet are heavy, your head too, every part of you just wants to give up. Haven’t you? Isn’t that what this is? You surrender.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He stops and lets go of you, fishing around in his pocket.

“I’m...” your vision narrows in; just like the moment you first met him. As Andy. As the real him. As the twisted man you just sold your soul to. “...tired.”

“Aw, yeah, well, it’s been a long few days. For both of us. You wanna come back to my hotel. The bed’s really cozy and the tub is deep. You could relax for the night before we gotta get on the road,” he offers.

You shake your head, “n-no,” you stutter. The last thing you want to do is be alone behind closed doors with him. “You said... pack. I should... do that.”

“Ah, I did. Alright, I’ll take you to your grandma’s. I’ll have to come early so we can get to your friend.”

“Right,” you agree coarsely.

“Trust me. I know how to handle cops,” he chuckles and pulls out his keys, unlocking the car right beside you. He opens the door and steps back, “I’ll call ahead. Get us a room as there too. I guess you’re going to want to catch up with your friend while we’re there. Might be a while before you see her again.”

You wince and look at him. A while. You look around at the street lights. You’re not unhappy. Leaving this place doesn’t matter to you but leaving Kara, possibly forever, that’s a knife in the chest. But forever is easier if you know she’s okay. If you know she doesn’t pay for your stupidity.

You nod and get in the car. You can’t speak. If you even try, you’ll bawl. The end is there, you feel it closing you in with the car door.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #end game #defending jacob

224 notes · View notes

your-local-simp-writers · 22 days ago

Text

Secret Santa

Word Count: 5615

Warnings: None

Headcanons: Inarizaki x Fem! Manager ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Day 1: The Name Exchange The excitement for Inarizaki’s first-ever Secret Santa was contagious as Y/N stood before the volleyball team, the Santa hat in her hands rustling with small slips of paper. She couldn’t help but smile at the eager looks and hushed anticipation around her as the team huddled closer, trying to catch a glimpse.

“Alright, listen up, everyone!” she called out, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Each of you has a name in here. Draw one, keep it a secret, and remember—two weeks until the big reveal! We’ll meet at my place the night before Christmas for the exchange.”

A few groans of playful protest mixed with laughter. Suna nudged Aran with a smirk, teasing him about what he might end up with. Atsumu made a big show of cracking his knuckles, promising he’d find the ultimate gift—“as long as I don’t get Osamu’s name,” he joked, earning a light shove from his twin.

Y/N went around with the hat, watching as the players reached in, each drawing their slip with a sense of mystery and excitement. There were chuckles, a few raised eyebrows, and Atsumu muttering dramatically, “Oh, the suspense!” as he held his slip close to his chest, causing the others to roll their eyes.

When Y/N drew her own name, her eyes lit up as she unfolded the paper. Aran! She’d always thought of him as a dependable friend, and she immediately wanted her gift to show how much she valued him. Her mind buzzed with ideas as she pictured his usual calm, steady smile, and the warmth he brought to the team. Maybe she could do something unexpected, something unique that would make him feel genuinely appreciated.

Kita, on the other hand, had approached the hat with his usual calm demeanor, but as he unfolded his slip and saw Y/N’s name, his heart skipped a beat. He rarely showed his emotions openly, yet the weight of choosing something that would resonate with her felt both daunting and exciting. As captain, he knew her value to the team better than anyone, her quiet dedication and the way she supported each player in her own way. He found himself already thinking of what might make her smile, what could show her how appreciated she truly was.

As the last names were drawn and the team dispersed, everyone left the gym with a bit of holiday spirit—and a bit of secret anticipation—in the air.

Day 2: Observing Clues

The second day after drawing names, Y/N was back in the familiar buzz of Inarizaki’s gym. The faint echo of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the steady thud of volleyballs filled the air as the team warmed up. It was one of those crisp winter mornings where sunlight poured through the high windows, casting long, amber streaks across the gym floor. Y/N leaned against the wall, taking notes on her clipboard, glancing up periodically to watch the boys’ drills. Her gaze, however, kept drifting to Aran.

He was in the middle of stretching with Suna, the two exchanging banter over a missed shot from the last game. Y/N caught herself smiling, noticing how Aran’s laughter seemed to resonate warmly in the cool gym air. Then, as practice wrapped up and the team headed for water, she noticed the telltale sign—Aran reached for his headphones, that familiar gesture he did every day. His music routine. She watched as he carefully untangled the wires, placing one earbud in as he leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting closed, nodding subtly to whatever song he had queued up today.

Seizing the moment, Y/N approached him casually, making her way across the gym while dodging stray volleyballs. She leaned against the water cooler next to him, the sound of clinking ice and the hum of the vending machine filling the space. “Hey, Aran!” she called, trying to sound offhand. “Got any good songs lately?”

Aran cracked one eye open, pulling the earbud halfway out. “Oh, hey, Y/N,” he said, his grin easy and relaxed. “Just my usual stuff. You know, same ol’ songs on repeat. Keeps me grounded after a long practice.” He chuckled, clearly embarrassed about his routine, but Y/N could tell music was something he genuinely enjoyed.

She tilted her head thoughtfully, filing the detail away. “You should send me some recommendations sometime,” she teased lightly. “Gotta keep up with what everyone’s listening to, you know?”

Aran laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure. I don’t know if it’s anything special, but I’ll send a few songs your way.”

Y/N left the interaction with a grin, her mind racing with ideas. A custom playlist and a quality portable speaker—that was it. Something personal but useful, a gift that would fit seamlessly into his life. She turned away to note her thoughts on her clipboard, nearly colliding with Kita, who was silently observing her as he collected water for himself.

He straightened up, his posture composed as always, but his gaze lingered on Y/N’s bag. It was the same bag she always carried: large, slightly battered, with straps that had seen better days. He noticed how she constantly adjusted it during practice, the way she shifted it to one shoulder as she darted between players to pass out towels, check equipment, and manage schedules.

Kita cleared his throat softly, catching her attention. “Y/N, your bag seems... well-used,” he remarked, voice calm but attentive.

She glanced down at the worn fabric, smiling fondly. “Yeah, it’s seen a lot, huh? But it’s my good luck charm. I feel like I can’t do my job without it,” she laughed, giving it a small pat.

Kita nodded thoughtfully, making a mental note. The bag, he realized, was more than just a tool for her; it was part of her rhythm as the team’s manager. If he found something similar—something just as sturdy and functional but with a touch of style—it might be the perfect way to show his appreciation. He allowed himself a small, determined smile, resolved to find a gift that would support Y/N as seamlessly as she supported them.

As the players returned to the court, Y/N and Kita both fell into the rhythm of practice, but both kept a quiet, secret excitement bubbling beneath the surface, each imagining how their gifts might surprise and delight their Secret Santas.

Day 6: Ideas Taking Shape

The gym was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished court, the soft rhythm of volleyballs bouncing against the floor, and the occasional shout of encouragement from the players. Y/N stood near the bench, her clipboard tucked under her arm, keeping an eye on the practice while brainstorming her gift for Aran. The air smelled faintly of the gym’s polish and the chalky scent of the volleyball court.

She had been observing Aran more closely over the past few days, trying to get a better sense of what he might appreciate. As he hit a spike across the court, a slight grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, Y/N recalled a conversation from a week ago. Aran had been talking about his love for live concerts, especially the raw energy of the crowd and the unpredictability of those moments. He’d mentioned his favorite concerts, how he'd often play the recordings in his room, the sounds filling the space as if he were there, surrounded by that energy.

Her eyes sparkled with an idea, and she stepped aside, making a mental note. She could create a custom playlist for him, one with live versions of his favorite songs, capturing the essence of that experience. But she didn’t want to stop there. Y/N knew Aran well enough to understand that he appreciated quality, something that would reflect the effort she put into the gift. A high-quality portable speaker would be the perfect match for the playlist. She imagined him listening to the tracks, the sounds of the crowd flooding through the speaker as he relaxed after practice. It would be a gift that mixed both personal and practical, with a touch of thoughtfulness.

While Y/N was lost in her thoughts, the other players continued their practice, moving in and out of drills. She overheard a conversation between Sakusa and Atsumu, both arguing about which music genre was better for post-practice relaxation. Y/N chuckled to herself, but her mind remained focused on Aran’s gift. The idea was starting to take shape, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

Across the gym, Kita was also absorbed in his own thoughts, though his gaze was fixed on Y/N. He watched her as she worked, effortlessly moving from player to player, offering gentle encouragement and the occasional correction. Her usual energy was contagious, but today, Kita noticed something else—her bag. It was slung over her shoulder, worn from years of use, its edges fraying just slightly. As Y/N moved through the gym, her movements fluid but with a slight struggle as she tried to reach for something inside her bag, Kita saw the small zipper snag.

It wasn’t just that the bag had seen better days—it was a symbol of how hard she worked to balance everything, always carrying the weight of her responsibilities. Kita’s thoughts immediately went to the idea he had been toying with since day one: getting her a new, high-quality bag. He wanted something that would be functional and reflect her commitment to the team, but also stylish enough to suit her personality. It had to be practical, yet show that he saw the effort she put in.

The following evening, after practice, Kita found himself wandering through a nearby shopping district. The streets were decorated with twinkling lights, adding to the holiday spirit that seemed to be everywhere. He passed by a small boutique that caught his eye. It was quaint, tucked between a couple of cafes, its windows filled with elegant bags. As he stepped inside, the warm air wrapped around him, and the scent of fresh coffee from a nearby café wafted through the door. The store was quiet, peaceful, and had a soft glow from the lights hanging overhead.

Kita moved through the aisles slowly, inspecting the bags with a focused eye. There was a part of him that wanted to find the perfect one immediately, but he knew it was worth taking his time. The bags ranged from minimalist designs to bold, functional ones. He picked one up, tested the weight, and inspected the stitching. He finally settled on a sleek, sturdy leather bag with multiple compartments—large enough to fit all of her essentials, yet compact and stylish. It was just right. The leather was soft, and the color would suit her perfectly—elegant, yet not too flashy. He couldn’t help but smile as he imagined how she might react when she saw it.

On his way out, Kita passed by a small coffee shop, the warmth from inside making him pause. He decided to grab a coffee, sitting by the window, watching the busy streets outside as he reflected on his decision. The holidays always brought out a bit of sentimentality in him, but this time, his thoughts were full of Y/N. He wanted this gift to be meaningful—not just a token, but something that would show how much he admired her.

Back at the gym, Y/N had already started discussing plans for the big exchange the night before Christmas. The players were still buzzing with excitement about the gifts they would give and receive. The gym, usually echoing with the sound of volleyballs and sneakers, was now filled with talk of Christmas cheer and gift ideas. Y/N had started to decorate the space with a few simple holiday touches—greenery by the door, a small tree with lights twinkling in the corner, and a basket of wrapped chocolates by the bench. Even in the hustle and bustle of practice, the holiday spirit was palpable, and everyone was feeling the magic of the season.

As the players continued their drills, the anticipation for the gift exchange built with every passing day. Y/N couldn’t wait to see everyone’s reactions, but there was something special about the idea of giving gifts that reflected how much she appreciated them. The warmth of the gym and the holiday spirit only made her more excited to bring everyone together for the big reveal.

And so, with the days slipping away, the team continued their practice, the sounds of volleyballs bouncing, sneakers skidding, and laughter filling the air. Christmas was coming, and with it, the promise of new memories, laughter, and unforgettable gifts that would bring the Inarizaki team even closer together.

Day 6: Gifts in the Making

After the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Y/N found Suna Rintarō in his usual spot by his locker, unhurriedly gathering his things. Students were buzzing around them, but Suna remained as calm and composed as ever, barely glancing at the crowds. She approached him with a purpose, though aware that she might have to make a convincing case to get him to come along.

“Hey, Suna,” she greeted, offering a small smile as she sidled up to his locker. “You busy after this?”

He looked up, meeting her gaze with a hint of curiosity but his expression otherwise unreadable. “Not really,” he replied, zipping up his bag. “Why?”

She took a quick breath before diving in. “I need some help with Secret Santa shopping… specifically for Aran. You have an eye for good stuff, so I thought you’d be the perfect person to bring along.”

Suna’s brows lifted ever so slightly at her suggestion, and he gave a small nod. “Fine. But don’t expect much commentary,” he said, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Perfect! That’s all I need,” she grinned, motioning for him to follow her out.

As they walked through the bustling city streets, they exchanged small bits of conversation—mainly Y/N talking about how she wanted her gift for Aran to be thoughtful and practical. Suna listened quietly, chiming in every now and then with a hum or a short response, more interested in taking in the scene around them than actively engaging in chatter. When they finally arrived at the mall, the holiday decorations were in full force: wreaths, lights, and a massive Christmas tree in the center of the atrium that seemed to reach up to the ceiling.

Y/N marveled at the decorations, nudging Suna with her elbow. “You gotta admit, it’s festive,” she said, smirking as she looked at his typically neutral expression.

He shrugged, giving the slightest of smirks. “It’s a bit much. But I guess it works,” he replied, following her as she led the way toward the tech stores.

They wandered into the first store, where rows of sleek gadgets and electronics lined the shelves. Y/N browsed the portable speakers, occasionally glancing at Suna, who was studying the products with a calm and discerning eye. After a few minutes, he picked up a speaker with a simple yet sturdy design, turning it over in his hands.

“This one’s pretty solid,” he commented, passing it to her. “Good sound quality, decent battery life, and compact enough that he could carry it around easily.”

Y/N held the speaker, feeling its weight and inspecting it. “Do you think he’d actually use it?”

Suna leaned back against one of the displays, his gaze level as he watched her consider the options. “If he’s into music like you say, he’ll appreciate it. And you can personalize it—load up some live recordings of his favorite concerts or something.”

She blinked, a smile spreading across her face. “That’s actually a really good idea. I didn’t think of that.”

“Yeah, well,” Suna shrugged, glancing away as if downplaying his own suggestion. “That’s why you brought me along.”

After comparing a few more options, she settled on the speaker he’d suggested, finally feeling confident in her choice. As they made their way to the checkout counter, Suna waited quietly beside her, occasionally glancing around the store. A small group of teenagers passed by, their arms full of holiday shopping bags, laughing and chatting. Suna looked on with mild interest before returning his focus to Y/N as she paid for the speaker.

As they stepped out of the store, they walked by a kiosk packed with holiday-themed wrapping paper, bows, and tags. Y/N paused, staring at the selection, her expression contemplative.

Suna noticed her hesitating and smirked. “This part’s on you. I’m here for the gift, not to play decorator.”

She laughed, nudging him lightly. “Noted. I’ll take it from here.”

Suna waited as she picked out a tasteful roll of wrapping paper with muted colors, steering away from the overly bright designs that didn’t quite suit her style. After paying, she held up her bag, feeling accomplished.

“Mission accomplished,” she said with a grin.

Suna gave her a short nod of approval as they made their way back through the bustling mall. The holiday energy buzzed around them, but there was a calm ease between the two of them as they headed out into the chilly evening, each silently content with how the day had unfolded.

Day 12: Putting It All Together

On Saturday morning, Kita headed out to town, intent on wrapping up the final details for his Secret Santa gift. He wanted to make sure the bag he chose for Y/N was perfect, and the added charm with her initials was a small but meaningful detail he hoped she’d appreciate. He found himself moving with careful purpose, his usual calm masking his excitement to see this gift idea come to life.

After visiting a boutique to confirm the bag’s quality, he stopped by a nearby shop to search for a keychain. As he browsed, he saw someone familiar in his peripheral vision—Y/N, standing in front of a colorful display. She was looking at a pair of vibrant roller skates with teal and yellow accents, her gaze fixed on them as if they held a world of memories. Smiling to himself, he walked over.

As Kita approached, he noticed Y/N’s attention was completely absorbed by the pair of roller skates on display. A small smile formed on his face as he stepped forward, intending to strike up a casual conversation.

“Didn’t know you were a skater,” he said, keeping his tone light.

She glanced over, clearly surprised but managing a smile. “Yeah… well, I used to be, I guess,” she replied, not offering more right away. Her eyes shifted back to the skates as if the memory behind them was something only for her.

Kita took a slow breath, recognizing her hesitance. Y/N was always open and friendly with the team, but rarely did she talk much about herself. He chose his words carefully. “Were you any good at it?”

Y/N’s smile grew a little wider as she laughed softly. “Maybe not at first. But I spent enough time on those skates that I got pretty good.” She paused, as if deciding whether to continue. “I used to skate down to the park on weekends. It was my thing.”

He nodded, giving her a moment. “Sounds like you had a good routine,” he said, understanding how much routines mattered in his own life.

She seemed to relax a little, glancing over at him. “Yeah, I did. I really loved it. But my old skates broke a while back, and I… just never got around to replacing them. Guess I figured I didn’t have the time.”

Kita took that in thoughtfully. “It’s tough to make time when there’s so much else going on. But it sounds like it mattered to you.” He didn’t push further, but his steady gaze invited her to continue if she wanted to.

She hesitated, then nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. These days, though, it just seems like… too much to spend on something that’s just for fun, you know? Especially when I could put that money toward something more practical.” She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable discussing it. “I’d feel selfish asking my parents for something like this.”

Kita listened carefully, piecing together her reasons without judging them. Her dedication to the team and her responsibilities was something he respected immensely, but he couldn’t help but think she deserved something just for herself.

“They look like they’d suit you,” he said gently, looking at the skates. “You deserve things that bring you happiness, too.” He gave her a small smile, understanding it was a sensitive topic. “And if you ever want to get back into skating, I bet you’d pick it up again just like that.”

Y/N chuckled, the wistfulness in her expression easing. “Thanks, Kita. Maybe one day,” she replied, a hint of warmth in her voice.

The conversation lingered with him as they parted ways, and an idea started to form in his mind. He’d originally planned to keep things simple, but seeing Y/N’s reaction to those skates gave him a different perspective on what his gift could mean. For now, though, he kept the thought to himself, leaving her with a subtle but encouraging smile before they each went on their way.

Christmas Eve: The Gift Exchange

The morning was filled with bustling energy as Y/N’s family worked together to turn their home into a holiday haven. It was the day before Christmas, and despite the excitement of the neighborhood Christmas party, Y/N was focused on one thing: making sure the house was perfect for the special Secret Santa event with the boys. The living room needed to be transformed into a cozy, welcoming space for everyone to gather, and there was no time to waste.

Y/N’s mom was the first to start rearranging the furniture, moving the coffee table to one side of the room with a sense of practiced ease. "Let’s clear some space for all the gifts," she said, giving Y/N a warm smile. Her dad followed suit, slowly shifting the couch to create a better flow in the room. Y/N eagerly joined them, her excitement spilling over as she adjusted the throw pillows on the couch and added little touches of decoration. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, draped with twinkling lights and vintage ornaments, but it needed a little more magic.

"We should add a few more candles to the mantle," Y/N suggested as she busied herself placing candles along the fireplace. The soft glow of the lights would create the perfect ambiance for the evening.

Her mom glanced over at her with a smile. "I love how much you’ve taken on this year. It feels like a real winter wonderland."

Y/N’s dad, who was busy hanging garlands above the windows, chimed in with a chuckle. "Your mom’s right, honey. This place is starting to look like something out of a Christmas movie." He paused for a moment, looking around the room with satisfaction. "You really went all out this year. The boys will love it."

Y/N couldn’t help but beam at their words, feeling a warmth in her chest. Despite all the holiday chaos, the effort was worth it. "I want tonight to be perfect. I want them to feel at home."

As her parents finished the final touches on the house, Y/N stood back and surveyed the room, feeling accomplished. The room was cozy with soft, plush blankets scattered across the couches, and the flickering lights set a serene, holiday atmosphere. A table had been cleared in the center, ready for all the gifts to be placed on it. There was a small area by the window where they would later enjoy snacks and drinks, but for now, the focus was on getting everything ready for the boys.

Her dad stepped back and gave Y/N a nod of approval. "I think it’s all ready. Let’s get those gifts out."

Y/N's mom smiled, heading to the kitchen to start preparing snacks and drinks for the evening. "Don’t forget to get those cookies out! We need something sweet for them."

"I’ll grab them," Y/N offered, bounding off to the kitchen. She retrieved the freshly baked sugar cookies her mom had made earlier, carrying the tray with a sense of pride. The warm, sweet smell filled the house, adding to the festive air.

As she returned to the living room, the first of the boys began arriving, and with their entrance, the room began to feel even more alive. Aran was the first to step through the door, carrying a bag of chips and a wrapped gift. "It smells amazing in here," he said, grinning as he surveyed the space. "You really did a great job, Y/N."

"Thanks, Aran!" she replied, her voice practically bubbling over with happiness. "I wanted to make sure tonight felt special for everyone."

With Aran came the other boys—Suna, carrying a box of homemade cookies, a small smile playing on his lips; Kita, with his usual calm demeanor, bringing a neatly wrapped gift and a quiet nod of approval; and Atsumu, always the life of the party, carrying a large bag filled with snacks and a grin that could light up the room.

"Did I bring enough snacks?" Atsumu asked loudly, dropping the bag on the table with a dramatic flair. "Because I could always grab more!"

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of her friends. "You’re always over-prepared, Atsumu."

Her parents, who were now finished with their preparations, stepped into the living room to greet the boys. Y/N’s dad shook hands with each of them, offering a friendly smile. "It’s nice to see you all here," he said warmly. "Y/N’s been looking forward to this night for weeks."

Y/N’s mom followed with a gentle, welcoming smile. "I’m so glad you could join us. This is such a special time for Y/N, and we’re glad to have you all here."

The boys all murmured their thanks, the warmth in the room only growing stronger. Y/N’s heart fluttered with happiness—everything was coming together just as she had hoped.

"I’m so glad we’re all here," Y/N said as she bounced excitedly from one guest to the next. "This is going to be the best night!"

With everyone settling in, her parents busied themselves by gathering their coats and preparing to leave for the neighborhood Christmas party. "We’re heading over to the neighbors’ party in a bit," Y/N’s mom said, giving her a soft, knowing smile. "You’re welcome to join us, of course."

Y/N shook her head, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I’m good, Mom. I want to stay here and enjoy tonight with everyone. This is my special event."

Her dad chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Alright, but don’t forget to take a few pictures for us before we go."

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. "I will! I promise!"

As her parents made their way to the door, Y/N handed them her camera. "Don’t forget to take some shots of you both at the party!" she added with a grin.

After her parents left, the atmosphere in the room shifted from the calm of her family’s presence to the lively chatter of her friends. The energy in the room felt light and happy, everyone eager to start the gift exchange.

When it was finally time to exchange gifts, the living room was buzzing with excitement. Laughter filled the air as each person carefully selected a gift to give.

Christmas lights twinkling softly against the walls as each person gave their present with care and excitement. Y/N felt a sense of joy watching everyone unwrap their gifts—each person’s reaction was more than she had hoped for. When it was Aran’s turn, he immediately began to unwrap his gift. Y/N had been nervously waiting for his reaction, hoping he would like it as much as she had thought he would. As the paper fell away, he held up the portable speaker she had carefully picked out for him. The soft, golden light from the fireplace illuminated the device in his hands, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause.

Aran’s face lit up with an easy grin, his eyes sparkling with delight. “You really know me, huh?” he chuckled, holding up the speaker for everyone to see. “This is perfect, Y/N. Thank you.”

Y/N couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across her face. "I'm so glad you like it!" Her heart soared at his response, a deep sense of happiness filling her chest. It felt incredible to see him genuinely pleased, especially since Aran was always so laid back and hard to surprise.

Finally, it was Y/N’s turn to open her gift, and the room grew quieter in anticipation. She smiled nervously, feeling the weight of Kita’s gift in her hands. Kita, ever composed, had remained calm, not giving away anything about his present. As she slowly began to unwrap it, the atmosphere shifted, the warmth of the room giving her a sense of comfort as she carefully peeled away the paper.

When the wrapping came off, her breath caught in her throat. Inside was a beautiful pair of roller skates—bright, sleek, and exactly the pair she had been eyeing for months. Her heart pounded in her chest, the surprise overwhelming her.

Her voice barely came out as she looked at Kita, her hands shaking slightly as she held up the skates. “Kita… you remembered…?”

Kita’s usual calm smile was present, but there was something in his eyes—something softer—that made Y/N’s chest tighten with emotion. “You’ve mentioned it a few times,” he said simply, his voice steady but kind. “I thought you deserved them.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N’s eyes. The roller skates were a dream she thought she’d have to give up, especially after her old ones broke so suddenly. She hadn’t been able to replace them, too caught up in work and life to find the time or money. But now, here they were, right in front of her, a gift from someone who had truly listened.

“I don’t know what to say,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you… really.”

She could feel the warmth of the room around her—the glow of the Christmas lights, the laughter of her friends, the love that filled the air. And in that moment, she realized that it wasn’t just about the gifts. It was about the thoughtfulness behind them, the way each of them had made an effort to show how much they cared.

Kita, already back to his usual calm demeanor, stood up and gestured for everyone to gather. Y/N's eyes widened in confusion as the boys—Aran, Suna, and even Atsumu—moved toward her. Though they hadn’t been planning a joint gift, the boys had secretly coordinated. Y/N hadn’t realized, but they had been discussing her for days leading up to this moment, deciding as a group that they wanted to show her just how much they appreciated everything she did for them, and how much they admired her strength, kindness, and dedication.

As Aran reached into a large gift bag, he pulled out a framed photo, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. It was a picture of all the boys together, their goofy grins and relaxed poses showing off the bond they had built over time. The photo was perfectly framed, the black frame elegant yet simple, and a small, personalized note attached. Y/N’s hands shook slightly as she read the words:

“Thank you for everything you do. We’re better because of you.”

Her heart swelled, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill once more. She had never expected this. The boys, though each of them a character in their own right, had come together with such thoughtfulness and unity. The sincerity in their gesture left her speechless.

Suna stepped forward next, giving her a small but meaningful smile. "We might not always say it," he began, his usually quiet voice softening the mood, "but we’re all really grateful for you, Y/N. For everything you do. It doesn't go unnoticed."

Atsumu, always the energetic one, added, “Yeah, we know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but you still manage to keep everything together. We’re better off with you around.”

Y/N’s heart felt like it was overflowing. She had never expected such an outpouring of appreciation from them, and yet here they were, showing her just how much she meant to them. Her eyes welled up with emotion as she finally managed to speak, her voice a bit shaky.

“You guys… I don’t even know what to say to this,” she whispered, overwhelmed by their kindness. “This means so much to me. You guys really… you really do care.”

Kita, who had remained relatively quiet, gave her a small nod. "Of course we do. You’re family, Y/N."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, save for the soft crackling of the fire and the gentle hum of the Christmas music in the background.

With a happy sigh, Y/N finally said, “Thank you, all of you. I really… I don’t deserve this, but it’s the best gift I could ever ask for.” The boys, each in their own way, smiled back at her, their eyes full of affection.

78 notes · View notes

thesummerstorms · 4 months ago

Text

IDK how I would want to introduce Annabeth exactly in my Annabeth Wayne AU. Like I have multiple ideas rotating through my brain at any given time.

They're all predicated on the idea that she didn't come back to Gotham intending to reunite with her family. She actually believes that she can't, as Dionysus made her swear an oath on the Styx her very first week at Camp, promising she wouldn't reveal the demigods to mortal heroes like the Justice League.

Instead, she's there trying to make peace with her past and get her head on straight after Tartarus tore open old wounds. But of course, somehow she ends up unwillingly reintroduced to the Bats and having to work out her abandonment issues/grief/resentment. Scenarios include but are not limited to:

Tim Investigates!!!

Returns to Gotham very shortly after Blood of Olympus, Will sends a brief message to Bernard Dowd, son of Apollo.

Bernard generally sucks at healing compared to his siblings, but any medic is better than none when dealing with things like the aftermath of Tartarus.

Bernard introduces her (truthfully!) to Tim as his 'acquaintance from summer camp' who he's keeping an eye on because she's had a bad time recently and a mutual friend asked him to look out for her. And she still looks bad (lost weight, limp, obviously sleep deprived) so Tim honestly doesn't question that part so much as wonder what exactly happened to her.

Bernard asks him to leave it alone, and Tim tries only because he's trying to prove that he can for his boyfriend who he loves very much.

But something about Annabeth's face is very familiar. (Headcanon she actually has a strong resemblance to the Kane side of the family, more so even than Bruce. Tims brain is putting together the resemblance to the manor portrait and possibly Batwoman, but he doesn't recognize that yet.)

Plus Annabeth gets spooked when she meets him and realizes who Bernard's boyfriend is. (She has more info than Tim does, obviously, even though it mostly comes from celebrity magazines stolen by Cabin 11 and Gotham news articles devoured while on quests). Her reaction intensifies Tim's curiosity, but it's too late to back out of the acquaintance without raising further suspicion.

Anyway, Tim FAILS at not investigating. Obviously. Not quite sure how it unravels from there, just that there's almost nothing on Anna Wayne in any records aside from Gotham's amber alerts because of the Mist.

Murder Scene on the Boat

This one is less thought out. It takes place in an AU where Bernard has already accidentally outed himself to Tim as a demigod.

Tim got very badly injured one day, made it home in a concussed daze, and Bernard freaked out badly enough to risk using the few Apollo-healing powers he does have.

Tim doesn't entirely GET the limited explanation he got from Bernard about that, but he's also hiding it from the rest of the BatFam because he doesn't want Bruce sticking his nose in it and possibly making things worse.

In this context, someone at Camp has called to let Bernard know that Annabeth is possibly headed for Gotham and that she's both mentally & physically in bad shape, but there's not actually much to be done because she hasn't made contact with him.

That is until Bernard goes into the deck of Tim's boat early one morning and finds Annabeth (possibly lead by Apollo's raven) bleeding out on the deck.

He screams for Tim until Tim wakes up and comes running with his staff in hand, but again Bernard is a mediocre healer at best and they have no nectar, so Tim has to call in for medical assistance.

Possibly Dick Grayson is near enough to respond for some reason (idk why, that part isn't important) and upon seeing the little sister he already thought was dead actively bleeding to death while Tim's supposedly human boyfriend is shaking and literally glowing trying to keep her alive, he promptly loses his shit.

They do get her medical care in time, obviously, Dick keeps it together enough to help with that, but as soon as she's out of immediate danger he full on blue screens.

Bio Sibling Meeting

Damian Wayne can see through the Mist not *entirely* but more easily than most mortals due to the Lazarus Pit. (Both growing up around it and having been revived in it.) He has largely kept this to himself.

That is until some sort of extra dangerous monster (that has in fact been tracking Annabeth, not that he knows that) realizes he can see them and takes an interest. He doesn't smell like a demigod, but he also doesn't smell entirely human (Lazarus Pit) so the monster mistakes him as a possiblly lower-effort snack.

Damian attempts to defend, but given that his sword isn't celestial bronze, it goes poorly.

Annabeth, who has been hiding nearby with her invisibility cap, trying to buy enough time for some ambrosia to kick in, is forced back into the fight and defends him. Possibly she gives him some sort of spare weapon (because after Tartarus she doesn't carry just one blade).

They do manage to fight it off, and Damian demands answers. Annabeth clearly recognizes him, not just Robin, but him, and it's freaking him out.

She dons her cap and runs again rather than give those answers and Damian isn't able to stop her for whatever reason.

However, she's been purely in the Mythic world for long enough she isn't thinking about DNA, and Damian is able to pull a blood sample after calling Nightwing (again, because I love to torture him in these scenarios and also he's the only one on good terms with the whole family who knows her) for back up

Nightwing gets nervous when Damian describes the girl (and her eyes in particular). Bruce is off world, so he's the only one present to have a melt down when the DNA profile comes back.

There is a version where somehow Damian has had visions of parts of Annabeth's quests (because Talia knew what Annabeth was and did some DNA manipulation? Because Hestia needed a Hail Mary to fix this family? IDK) so he actually recognizes her at least that much, but doesn't know her name or why he's seen her.

He's been mentally calling her Arsinoe and assumed she was the one to use some magic to forge the connection. He knows about Tartarus, but doesn't have any context to correctly interpret it.

None of that leads him to connect her to his missing older half-sister who Talia spoke about twice and who Bruce never spoke of at all- until he sees Grayson's reaction.

It stirs up some old fear and jealousy, yes- but he also recognizes she saved him and wants to know what the hell is going on. He begins investigating.

Unlucky

Annabeth's inherited shit luck from both parts of her family, so it's not even a monster attack that outs her. She gets caught by accident in a rogue attack and gets hit because she turned back to protect a civilian rather than rely on her own training to try and get clear.

Scarecrow and Fear Toxin could actually be so fun for this specific scenario, but idk, haven't thought out a lot of specifics.

Nightwing is in Gotham currently. (Because I want to torture Dick Grayson specifically.)

(Because the idea of the scared older brother who finds the sibling he lost only when he's actively losing them again is too much fun.)

Because it's either him, Bruce, or Jason, and I figure Jason is estranged and I'm not gonna get the outwardly emotional response I want from Bruce.

So Nightwing is the one to get her and the civilian she was trying to protect extracted from the scene. And in this case he's *not* actually sure why she seems so familiar at first because there's a lot going on and in his mind Anna Wayne most likely died tragically at the age of 7 because Gotham wouldn't be kind to a runaway child that young.

It isn't until he's going through her bag, trying to find something to ID her with or some sort of med alert ID or medication (because she's having a really bad reaction) that he accidentally finds a few identifying artifacts.

Specifically, he Jason's copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, which Jason had been reading to Anna when he died, and went missing from the manor when she did.

Which prompts Dick to look through a small bag which is mostly filled with drachma- but also contains an elephant shaped charm from the bracelet he had given her on the last birthday he ever celebrated with her.

Batman *is* in Gotham for this one, purely so he can hear the way Nightwing's voice breaks when he says suddenly "Bruce-"

(and all the others startle because Nightwing never breaks the rule about names in the field)

"Bruce, it's Anna. It's Anna."

(If it was Scarecrow toxin that got her, Batman thinks Nightwing must be hallucinating, too. Right up until Oracle pulls the feeds to see what's going on with Nightwing and the girl and starts swearing.)

#dc x pjo #pjo x dc #annabeth chase #annabeth wayne #percy jackson and the olympians #dc #dc comics #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Bernard Dowd

101 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 8 months ago

Text

Welcome Back to The Nightmare Factory

Steve's Version

m a s t e r l i s t

Blurb 1

Nightmare!Steve x fem!Reader

word count: 2.2k

18+ONLY, lurking monsters, night terrors, star-crossed lovers

Author's Note: Hi, I've missed you. Until now, we've only explored this world with Nightmare!Eddie, but it's time to throw Steve into the mix. Different reader, of course, and I plan to jump around to random scenes as this progresses; it shall not be a linear experience. Nightmare Steve is a biker Steve hybrid that will often cross over into the world of Hawkeye that I created for my biker!Steve au.

Also, you do not need to have any knowledge of the original Nightmare Factory or biker Steve to enjoy this xoxox

You didn’t know how long you’d been waiting on the bench under the bus stop awning, but the sun was sinking on the horizon and the air vibrated with the promise of rain. A drizzle dotted a few fine pinpricks on the sidewalk, yet you could feel a damp chill seeping in through your bones as if you were already soaked.

Across the street between monochrome, saltbox roof houses, stood an old brick building. A flickering neon sign out front had the outline of a purple hand on it, palm out announcing Psychic Readings in a mustard yellow that rivaled the melting sun beyond.

You looked down at your wristwatch, only to realize you weren’t wearing one, and then checked up and down the empty street. Just when the thought occurred to you that there were no other humans around, the flutter of a curtain in one of the houses across the way caught your eye.

Maybe the buses stopped running at dusk and you’d missed the last one. But then, how would you get…to wherever you were going?

“It’s never on time,” a voice next to you spoke up, making you jump.

You were certain that there had not been anyone sitting on the bench with you a second ago.

“The bus, it’s never on time,” she repeated. The woman had short, dark blonde hair tucked behind her ears, a spray of freckles across her nose, and a restless smile tugging up the side of her mouth. “There is always a lot of traffic at the factory on Fridays.”

“The factory?” You cocked your head, trying to understand.

The last offering of fuchsia in the sky flickered and was gone in a blink, erupting a sudden fear in your gut at the loss of light. The fresh blanket of cold made your toes cramp, as if they’d met with one of those icy pockets in sunless, concrete corners.

The woman kept the side of her face to you at all times, never turning to look at you straight on. You had this crazy notion that perhaps the other side of her didn’t exist.

The sight of a motorcycle approaching warmed your heart and your guts for some reason, and you hoped that the bus was not far behind. The rider inched to a halt at the curb in front of you, stomping one booted foot down to steady himself, engine grumbling. In the amber glow of the single streetlamp, you were able to get a look at him.

Wearing sunglasses at night, he raked a big hand through his head of thick, unruly hair, and reached up to light the smoke that was held between his lips. The lighter’s flame let you see the square line of his jaw and that the tattooed lettering on the knuckles of one hand spelled LOVE. He wore leather and denim, with a red shirt, and he tipped his chin to you before turning to the other woman on the bench.

Behind him, the neon psychic sign blinked furiously as the bus in question crawled into view.

”Thank you for keeping an eye on her,” Steve said to the other one on the bench, exhaling smoke out the side of his mouth.

“Of course,” she stood to button her coat. “Beers are on you this Friday.”

“Remind Eddie if you see him, I might be running late again.” He hadn’t gestured to you, but somehow you knew that you would be the one to make him run late.

The bus rattled closer; it was filled with blue light and odd, dark shapes.

“Are you ready?” The man on the motorcycle tossed the smoke to the pavement and extended his hand to you. “Jump on.”

You got to your feet and hesitated, trying to figure out where you knew him from.

“But I’m waiting for—-”

At that, the air brakes on the lumbering passenger vehicle hissed, coming to a stop, and a cloud of fog billowed up around it.

“You were waiting for me,” Steve tipped his chin at you. "I made a promise."

At another glance, you saw through the windows that it was crowded in figures wearing black shrouds, shuffling forward at the sight of you. They were moaning with unspecified longing that somehow translated into the creepiest sound you’d ever heard. Gasping, you took his hand, and he pulled you close, urging you on the seat behind him.

“I got you,” he whispered.

On the bench, Robin filed her fingernails with an emery board, blowing a pink bubble with her gum like she hadn’t a care in the world.

You held onto Steve’s leather jacket to swing your leg over the bike, zipping your torso flush to his warm back.

Behind Robin stood an endless sea of the same shrouded creatures, clustered dead still in the night as if being actively born from it. Some had antlers, some had hunched backs, and others were impossibly tall and thin. Lining up front to back and shoulder to shoulder, appearing out of seemingly nowhere, collectively withering one long, low growl.

You hugged him frightfully close, squeezing your eyes shut to bury your face in the back of his neck. He smelled like warm summer rain, damp earth, campfire smoke, and a zest of vanilla spices. Safe, I'm safe.

He revved the throttle and told you to hang on tight, but you wavered, checking to find that the army of faceless ghouls were right there—they’d been yards away, but now they were within arm's reach, hovering.

But then you were in the wind, head forced back by the velocity, choking on a scream, whimpering unintelligible pleas into the leather of his jacket.

He shifted gears and it felt like you’d entered some type of warp speed, engine humming between your legs. Eyes shut tight, you swore you felt sharp swipes of skeleton hands at your back and heard the shrieking wails of defeat as the masses lumbered to catch up.

The flap of enormous wings sounded as a few took to the sky, but Steve shifted again, lowering his head. “Don’t look,” he begged. “Soon they won't be able to touch us.”

Back at the bus stop, the door to the bus squealed open, and Robin did not look up from picking a piece of skin from her cuticle.

“Good luck with the next one, Dickie,” she said to the driver who hulked in his seat like Mothman, one clawed hand clutching the wheel.

Dickie looked from Robin to the road ahead and back a few times, trying to understand what was happening, before sinking his wings with a sigh.

“Do you need a ride, sugar?” His voice was usually deep and bellowing on the job, but just then it came out in a comically high-pitched southern accent.

—---

The first time you met Steve, he’d been waiting in the corner of your bedroom.

Waiting for you to go to sleep.

But you were up late watching Ewoks: The Battle for Endor on the small, VCR combo TV that was perched on your dresser. The violet crescents under your eyes hinted to the lack of sleep you’d been getting the past few months. You’d been having a bad rash of nightmares, and if you didn't know any better, you’d think you'd been specifically targeted somehow.

This was not the first time you’d unknowingly had a movie night with shadow Steve, but it was the first time you’d felt his presence. He was nothing but a dust mote of a glimmer, but still, you stared right at him, and asked if anyone was there.

Had he made a sound? Had he accidentally snickered a bit too loud at the giddy Ewoks? Or were you starting to sense him though the cosmic barrier that kept you in different worlds?

It made his heart stall for a second, mouth agape, and a hand outstretched, ready to come clean. To let you know that he wasn’t just some creep off the street, that he was just doing his job—but of course you couldn’t see him. If he ever got the chance to explain it all to you, he’d let you know that the two of you were on different channels of reality. Like switching stations on a radio, he could tune into you, but you didn’t know how to tune into him.

So, there was no way that you could…

“Back again I see,” you hummed, turning to face the screen from where you sat propped up against the headboard in your pajamas. “Where will you be hovering tonight? On the ceiling or at the foot of the bed?”

Were you talking to him? As far as he could tell, you were the only two in the room.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered, defiantly.

Did you really mean it, or were you trying to convince yourself?

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” but even as he stepped forward, he knew the effort was fruitless.

The sound of a barely audible whisper made you turn the volume on the tv down.

Okay, before you’d been bluffing, but that time you really heard something.

Flinging the covers off to jump out of bed, you spun around, wielding the remote out in front of you like a weapon.

“Who’s there?”

Nothing. No one. Just you and all of the nightmares you’d been having about paralysis demons pinning you down and sucking out your soul.

A horrifying thought occurred to you then that maybe they’d followed you out of your dreams and into the waking world.

You tossed the remote back onto your bed, spinning around to address the room. “If you have something to say to me, do it now. Don’t be a fucking coward and wait till I'm asleep.”

Your declaration was met with nothing but the garbled conversations on the TV.

It took a while for you to finally get to sleep, but once you did, that’s when the rattling on your closet door started. It was just a few scratches at first, coming from the inside, but then the doorknob wiggled.

Steve stepped out of the corner and walked—nay, floated.---around to the other side of your bed to act as a barrier between you and whatever was coming out of the closet. The beeping on his watch told him you were entering a deep sleep; he’d also draped an invisibility layer down just in case you did happen to wake up during the confrontation.

The closet door creaked, opening an inch, just enough for three long and meaty, hairy fingers to curl into sight.

“Wrong room, genius,” Steve said curtly.

The door propped ajar just enough so that one big, milk white eyeball could peer out. “Steve?” A garbled voice whispered. “I thought you were at the abandoned hospital with Hopper tonight?”

“I was,” Steve answered. “But now I’m here, asking you not to bother with this one.”

The big eye twitched, blinking a few long blinks. “Whatever you say, dude. I’ve got better places to be.”

Whispers tickled at your ears, as if someone was having a conversation nearby, but not close enough to fully comprehend the words.

You heard the name Steve.

So then you muttered it outloud: “Steve?”

Shocked, he spun around, staring at your parted lips. But then a snore escaped from the back of your throat, and he eased back.

“I won’t let them bother you,” was what he said, and you believed him. Whatever that meant.

—-----

The motorcycle began to slow, and you took the opportunity to check behind you, slumping with relief to find that the highway was empty. Lined with evergreens on either side, the road shot straight out behind the two of you into ominous, smoky oblivion, as if there had never been a town or a Psychic sign or a bus stop.

Steve knew he was cutting it close, his time with you would be over soon, but he wanted to take you out and show you something cool, maybe even impress you. He’d told you about the crimson-colored lake before, about how you could see Mermaids and all manner of sea creatures. It didn’t make sense that they were all in a lake, but still, there it was.

“Have you ever seen a mermaid in real life before?” He asked over his shoulder, shouting above the wind.

You hadn’t, not that you were aware of, anyway. Everything felt so real, it hadn’t even occurred to you that perhaps you weren’t even in the real world.

“Well, don’t talk to them, and don’t look at them for very long,” he warned. “They’ll bite your face off as easily as wink at you.”

You nodded, taking in that information.

“I want to show you where—-”

But then the road dropped off at an abrupt cliff edge that appeared to jut straight down into a sea of stars. It was like a reflection of the sky above.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—” Steve yelled as the bike caught air.

You were going down, falling into the ether of nothingness, and you couldn't tell if the blood-curdling scream you heard belonged to you or someone else.

You clung to Steve while you plummeted down through the infinite space of some unknown universe, about to crash and burn.

Was this it? Is this how you die?

In bed, your eyes flew open with a jolt, clutching a pillow to your chest like you might’ve once held onto a boy for dear life. The pillow smelled like warm summer rain, campfire smoke, and vanilla spices.

After a few blinks, you realized that was the first time you’d slept all through the night without being forced awake by terrors in a very long while.

-----

Thank you for reading, and much love to those of you who have enjoyed this world from the start. Now that I'm writing again, I'm working on a very special chapter for Nightmare Eddie as well that I can't wait to share with you.

#Nightmare Factory #nightmare!Steve #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fluff #Nightmare Steve #biker!Steve #nightmare!Eddie

106 notes · View notes

ivy-loves-chocolate · 1 year ago

Text

Note: I had to repost this cuz I accidentally deleted the first one lol. Anyway, this is such a cute request, anon! ❤️ I had so much fun writing it, and I hope you'll enjoy it. Lmk if you want a second, smutty part 🤗;

Pair: Leon Kennnedy x Reader;

Type: fluff, but things get heated at the end;

If you want to commission me check my Ko-Fi. I also have a Patreon page if you wanna check it out. Thanks! ☺️

The day was about to end as the sunset blessed the sky with its beautiful amber rays. The patio was slowly becoming crowded as more people finished work by now, but Leon wasn’t bothered. He took a sip from his cocktail and watched the sunset, lost in his own thoughts.

Even if it’s been a week with no calls from work, he still waits for the familiar ringtone to disturb his peace. He brings one arm to his bicep and gently brushes his fingers over a certain spot. The pain was gone. All the bruises healed from his last mission.

“You alright?” You asked, seeing as he might not be here.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just... everything is calm and peaceful, you know.”

“And I take it you’re not used to it.”

“Nope. Usually, I would’ve been hit by this table by now instead of having dinner at it. Some big, scary monster would’ve chased after me, and so on.”

“Hmmm, I guess that’s true. If you want, I can chase you around with this knife and give you some adrenaline if you miss it.”

Leon chuckled and shook his head.

“No, it’s alright. It’s not that I miss the adrenaline, it’s the fact that I keep expecting something bad to happen any time now.”

"Well, stop it. Hunnigan was very clear when she told you that no one would bother you in your free time. There are plenty of agents; they can manage.”

“I guess you’re right.”

He took your hand in his and squeezed gently while smiling at you. The gentle breeze moved your hair from side to side slowly and delicately. Leon stared at you for a few seconds, admiring how beautiful you looked in that golden light that highlighted your beautiful features.

“One thing I’ll never get tired of is having such great company.” He said it softly while looking at you. He took another sip from his cocktail.

You smiled and looked away for a few seconds, but you didn’t move your hand. The way he was looking and talking with you made you blush.

“What?” He said this as his big thumb began to caress your skin. “I mean it.”

“I know; I enjoy your company too. It’s just that such moments like this with you are rare, and when they finally happen, it feels surreal.”

“I know… Don’t worry, I promise I’ll try to make them happen more often.”

A full moon replaced the sun, and stars filled the sky. You and Leon went for a walk after the meal you just had. The breeze was still gentle, but the air was colder, so Leon gave you his jacket since you forgot yours home. You were holding hands as you walked on the crowded boulevard.

“Wanna get yourself something nice?” He asked as you passed in front of some stores.

“Hmm, no. Maybe later.”

Leon spoiled you this week a lot. He bought you various gifts, took you to expensive restaurants, and made sure that the hotel where you were staying was one of the top. You paid too for some meals and tickets to tourist attractions, but it was mostly him to use the wallet. Despite telling him there was no need for such treatment, he ignored you and continued to pay.

He also went everywhere you wanted to go. He didn’t say “no” once during your vacation. He just enjoyed your presence, and as long as you were happy, he was happy too.

"Are you sure you’re not cold?”

"Yeah, I’m fine; don’t worry about me.” He chuckled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him. Then he pressed a kiss on your head.

“You’re such a gentleman, Leon.”

Under the soft glow of the moonlight, the streets were bathed in a gentle silver light. Both of you found a quiet corner of the city and allowed yourselves to be caught in the magic of the night. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional city sounds provided a subtle backdrop to the moment.

Leon couldn’t take his eyes off you, smiling the entire time like someone who had experienced love for the first time.

The air between you became charged with an unspoken connection. Leon looked deep into your eyes as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

The streetlights cast a warm halo around you, creating an intimate space in the midst of the urban chaos. The night held a certain stillness, as if time itself had slowed to allow you to savour your romance.

You placed your hands over his shoulder, then went behind his neck as you leaned forward, closing the gap between your bodies.

The anticipation hung in the air, a delicate dance of desire. Leon finally closed the remaining space, and your lips met in a tender, long-awaited kiss. With closed eyes, you let your bodies be consumed by the intense lust that this magical moment brought.

The moon dispersed its bright light as if it were aware of this gentle moment, subtly urging its sister stars to gather and cast their shine in the beautiful moment that was unfolding beneath them.

Your mouths melted together in a union of passion. Neither of you felt like pulling out any time soon. Leon’s hands began to gently caress your waist, shifting the fabric of your shirt as they moved up and down. Your hands began to play with his hair, running it between your delicate fingers.

“Leon…” you said in a needy voice.

“Yes?”

“I think we should go back to the hotel…”

With a sigh, Leon pulled away. A smile shortly appeared on his lips as he cupped your face with his hands.

“I think you’re right.”

He kissed your lips one more time and grabbed your hand, guiding you back to the hotel through the crowded street.

Tag-list: @lunarastrobabe @skylar-todd @rokurodokuro @brownsugarwrites @yourallyse @ravenrune (if you want to be added DM me 🤗)

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x you #leon x reader #leon fluff #leon kennedy fluff

164 notes · View notes

skyloftian-nutcase · 17 days ago

Text

@luna-loveboop I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a while and wasn’t sure when to publish it, but since you’re not feeling well I figured I’d share it so you have something to read/distract you ❤️ I hope you feel better soon, lovely ❤️ Enjoy Link and Hemisi somewhere around ten years after the Imprisoning War dealing with a crisis in the Gerudo Desert .

Link wasn’t sure he’d ever been this mortified in his life. And, given his life experiences, that truly was saying something.

“Oh come on,” Hemisi said while rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me you can’t.”

“I can’t!” Link insisted, voice nearly cracking like it used to when he was a young teenager. “I can only take the form of someone I know pretty well.”

“You’ve never even tried?” The Gerudo chief questioned, disbelief heavy in her tone.

“I haven’t really used this spell in a long time, Misi.”

“You haven’t used it to sneak out of that castle?” Hemisi laughed. “Come on, now!”

Link’s flustered energy died down a little, and he waved a dismissive hand. “No. I haven’t.”

“Why not?” His dear friend asked, cheeks flushed with mischief and cheer just like when they were kids. “I know you’re not that straight-laced. Remember all the times we snuck out and around the castle?”

Link mirrored her smile, though his was smaller. “I remember. I remember that one time when it was raining and we almost died climbing the slippery stone walls.”

Hemisi barked out an even more delighted laugh, clapping her hands. “That was the best! But see, there’s no way you’ve never done it since you got married! You told me when I first found out you could use shapeshifting magic that you did it sometimes to sneak around Castle Town.”

Link’s smile began to fade. “That was a long time ago, Hemisi. The spell requires a lot of energy.”

“Oh, don’t even start by saying you’re old!” Hemisi snorted.

“Even when I used it to sneak around the city, I didn’t do it often because it took a lot of energy,” Link insisted.

“Okay, but usage and practice makes that easier,” Hemisi noted.

“Not by much.”

“You used it during the war to sneak into an enemy camp and assassinate the general,” Hemisi pointed out. “At which point you had to outrun an entire legion of Gerudo soldiers. Don’t tell me you can’t do it because it takes too much energy.”

Link was floundering trying to avoid the issue, and it was starting to irritate him. “I was younger back then, Hemisi. I’m telling you, I haven’t had that kind of energy since the war.”

Hemisi’s smile finally fell from her face, and it made Link’s chest clench. Her amber eyes pierced his, searching, and he squirmed.

“What the hell did they do to you?” She whispered, brow furrowing in genuine concern. “What did she do to you?”

Link sighed tiredly, not wanting to discuss this. “This isn’t Zelda’s fault.”

“You always defend her,” his friend snapped.

“She’s my wife!” Link fired back, agitated. “She is my wife, the mother to my children whom I adore, and my queen. And at one point she was my friend too.”

“If she’s your friend then why the hell didn’t she see what was happening to you?!” Hemisi argued.

“Because I wouldn’t let her!” Link yelled.

The tent filled with thick tension, both combatants breathing heavily. Hemisi’s dark expression shifted a little, fear and concern glittering in her eyes.

Link shook his head, trying to reel himself in. “You keep trying to direct your hurt and anger at her when it doesn’t belong there. I’m the one you should hate. I’m the one who was engaged to you and said yes to her proposal anyway.”

“Link,” Hemisi spoke his name surprisingly quietly, in spite of how her eyes hardened in determination. “I don’t hate Zelda. I haven’t for ages. You know that from your visit to me all those years ago. And you keep trying to make all of this your fault when it isn’t. But I—you can’t expect me not to worry, the way you talk, the way you act sometimes—”

“I’m doing better,” Link cut in gently, putting a hand to her cheek and stroking it tenderly. “I promise I’m doing better.”

The pair was silent a moment, Link trying to will all his love and reassurance into her through his eyes and gentle touch. Hemisi cupped his hand with her own, holding it to her face a moment longer, not breaking eye contact. Then she sighed, gently pulling it away from her.

Trying to get back to the original dilemma and close this painful subject, Link said, “This still doesn’t solve your current problem, though. I can’t sneak into that camp with my magic—”

Hemisi bounced back into her mischief easily, graciously taking the olive branch Link had offered. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Hold on, now, you said you cannot use your magic to take a made up form, but what about tweaking one you know well?”

Link bit his cheek, the tidal wave of emotions from earlier disappearing in lieu of sheer, utter desperation. “I… I might…”

Hemisi’s eyebrow rose even higher as mischief twinkled in her eyes. “Might be able to?”

Link groaned. “Misi, this is humiliating, don’t make me do this!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic!” Hemisi cackled. “Look, I need that intel and they know what me and my officers look like!”

“Then let me sneak in as a shadow, like a true Sheikah!” Link insisted exasperatedly. “I don’t have to disguise myself as a Gerudo!”

“You did it during the last war!”

“As Merovar.” Link threw his hands in the air, cheeks flushed, flustered. “I didn’t disguise myself as a woman!”

Hemisi snapped her fingers. “I got it. Zelda. Make yourself look like her, just make her look Gerudo.”

Link sighed heavily, running out of excuses. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it drains him; he’d had stamina elixirs during the war to help him maintain the spell for long periods. But… he’d try. Reluctantly.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated, letting magic warm his muscles, feeling it spread through his entire body. He focused on the image of Zelda, hair red instead of brown, skin baked in the sun, golden brown and glowing, clothes mirroring Hemisi’s war attire from when they were teenagers. And then he snapped his palms together, feeling the magic intensify in a rush.

The pull of magical fatigue hit him immediately, but he could feel the effect of the spell as well. He felt different.

Scrunching his face, he slowly opened his eyes to see Hemisi looking ecstatic.

“I take it that it worked,” he grumbled. Oh Hylia above, his voice.

His friend burst out laughing. “Honestly I’m kinda jealous, you’re hot!”

“Just kill me,” he groaned, making the Gerudo chief wheeze even more. Curious, he looked down. Well. He certainly got the anatomy right.

A thought popped in his head, an ingrained curiosity, and, well, he had to….

Hemisi nearly doubled over. “Quit copping a feel on yourself, Link!”

“What?” He fired back, cheeks flushing as he started to laugh too. “I had to at least touch them once!”

“I don’t believe for one second that you’ve never felt Zelda’s breasts.”

“Of course I have!” He said, heart rate skyrocketing as he crossed his arms defensively.

Oh. That felt weird. They got in the way!

“Oh my goddesses,” Hemisi wheezed. “You know what, we’re going through with this mission, just for entertainment purposes.”

Link finally released the spell, sagging in relief and exhaustion, glaring at her grumpily. “I hate you.”

#writing #imprisoning war #hero of power #hemisi #legend of zelda #I hope you feel better soon ❤️#suggestive #For like one smidge of a moment #Because Link’s a dude and I KNOW they all say they wanna do that if they were a woman for a day LOL #boys are silly

27 notes · View notes

littlest-w01f · 9 months ago

Text

Hurt

Eris x Secret Mate!OC

ERIS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Eris tried his best to protect her from his father. Beron brings home his hunt

Cw: angst, Angst, ANGST, Mentions of mutilation, Clipping, Character death

Eris couldn't breathe, not as he looked over the table where his father had just slammed a slab of bleeding meat, not just bleeding meat, he felt sick looking at the large sensitive wings his mate had, butterfly wings, attached to the skin and muscle of it, still bleeding on the table.

"Do you like what I caught, son?" Beron smiled, eyes on his eldest as the rest of his children congratulated him on the hunt, hunting season, he should've told her to stay in, his heart sank when he couldn't feel her, feel his mate. He felt bile rising in his throat as he looked at the birthmark she had on her back on the skin his father had cut out, almost all of her back.

Perhaps his sickened face was too visible, his mask dropped as his brother, joyfully patted his shoulder, "Don't be so upset, brother, maybe you can still catch one of these parasites."

His mask was back on in a second, his brother had called her a parasite. "I am above these silly games, Arlin." He hissed at the second oldest, shrugging his hand off his shoulders.

"Like you did last year?" Beron smirked, watching his reaction as if he knew something he didn't.

Last year, when he had met her, his mate, Celastrina, while it was his turn to go out hunting, his precious butterfly, a unique lesser Fae, the kind in Faelore befriended lonely children, in his case, the Fae lord human parents told their children not to tell their true names to. She had been a curious thing when they met, quite agile and absolutely lovely.

He excused himself to his room, not caring if it might arouse suspicion, the second he was in his room, he dropped to his knees, tears falling freely from his amber eyes, he couldn't feel her, her side of the bond felt like it didn't exist, he curled into himself, trying to keep any sounds to the minimum, feeling nothing short of pure pain.

He instantly stopped crying when there was a knock on his door, wiping his tears away he opened the door, his mother stood in front of him with a pained look in his eyes, his mother, the only other person he had told about her, he crumbled in her arms, let her drag him to his bed, his face buried in her lap, letting his tears flow to her gown.

"Momma, Momma she's gone..." He cried, holding onto his mother as he curled into her in a way he hadn't since he was just a little faeling, "I can't feel her... I can't feel her anymore, Ma. I couldn't keep her safe."

"My fire, I know..." Lady Autumn held her son close to her, letting him cry onto her chest as she used her powers to stroke his back soothingly. She had seen it, the wings and the parts of his mate's back, laid out on a table for anyone to see, and she had rushed to see her son, claiming to Beron that the sight of blood and skin had made her nauseous, "I'm sorry, Eris... I'm sorry."

"I failed her, I failed my promise to her." Eris sobbed in the comfort of his mother.

Holding her son close, she kissed his temple, her own tears falling as she tried to comfort him, "Oh, my baby..."

Suddenly a wave of pain hit Eris, she had opened up her side of the bond to him again and a mix of emotions, relief that she was alive, sorrow that she would probably not live long with how much pain she had just shot down their bond. He turned to look at his mother and she gave him a sharp nod to go.

He was outside her little open cottage instantly, banging hard on the door, calling her name.

Celastrina's father opened the doors, a glare on his face, "Why are you here? Haven't you failed enough?" He roared, seeing Eris at his door, his own wings closing around their door to keep him from looking inside, to where his suffering mate was, "You had her facinanted with the outside near your land!" The male didn't care as he saw Eris' heart break through his eyes, he shut the door behind him and walked out, "This is your fault she was out that far, especially at this time of year."

Eris' eyes were downcast in shame, shuddering slightly as he felt wave after wave of her pain, "I'm sorry... Please... Please I need to see her."

The male who had loved Eris for his daughter, now looked at him in distante, "It was the High Lord, who hurt her, but why should it matter to me," He almost spat in anger, "All you Autumn High Fae look and are the same."

Eris looked away, hating his resemblance to his father, once it had made it easy for him to put on his mask but now he couldn't help but grow nauseous at the thought. The thought that Cela probably came out at the thought that it was him waiting for her, with how he was his father, with his mother's hair.

He looked up at the male he had begun to admire in the time he had been with his mate, the male who had loved him in such a short time more than his father had, "Please, let me be near my mate, let me heal her."

"You foolish male..." He sighed looking away, "She doesn't wish to live, our people rarely do when Fae like you take our wings to sell or keep as a trophy."

He looked at Eris' form, withdrawn, broken, when he opened the door again, "Get in, she would want both of us there if she opened up her bond again."

Celastrina lay on her bed, her head in her mother's lap, her back completely cut up as she sobbed in pain, her mother kept pressing in a tonic to soothe her pains, "I want Eris, mama, I don't wanna go without him."

Her mother looked up from her when she sensed two males in the room, smiling softly at Eris, "Well, he's here now..."

Celastrina gasped turning to her side, "Er..." She breathed seeing her mate, who dropped to his knees in front of her, "You came, you're here." A few tears fell from her eyes and he wiped them away instantly.

"Of course, I'm here, I winnowed the instant I felt you pain through the bond." Eris looked up at her mother, the two nodded in greeting and gently switched places, trying not to move Celastrina too much. Eris held her close to him, the tonic now in his hands as her parents let the two mates be.

"I didn't want you to feel it... Not while you were there," Celastrina admitted, "I didn't wish for you to lose your mask or make them suspect anything."

"I didn't want for you to see me die, Er..." She sniffed softly, holding onto her mate, "But I don't want to be without you, so I shilded the bond."

Eris groaned in another wave of her pain, her breathing laboured, she seemed relaxed, ready to be at peace, "Cela...? Butterfly...?"

"You're so warm, Er..." She smiled, holding onto him, feeling her warm body as she sighed, her breathing soft.

Eris gave a bittersweet smile, "Do I feel good?"

"You've always been good to me..." She hummed, her eyes closing softly, she was a fighter, had been, but in his arms, she was ready to stop fighting, "This is not how I imagined out first year anniversary to be like..."

"It's been two weeks since then, Cela." Eris teased, stroking her hair. "I got you my favourite cakes, remember."

Cela hummed, shaking her head 'yes', "Oh, yeah, that." She had a faint smile on her face.

"I think I'm ready" She sighed and Eris held her tighter. Kissing over her head. "I'm ready with you."

Her parents were watching, holding each other trying to find comfort in the arms of their mate as they let Eris be closer to her, hold his mate one last time.

Eris stroked the base of her back, the only piece of skin there, "Would you like to sleep, my flame?"

"Yeah..." She snuggled up in his arms, "... Sleep."

"Will you be there when I wake up?" She asked hopefully.

"Of course, I'll be with you." Eris frowned when she couldn't see, knowing she would not wake up, "I'll hold you through it, alright?"

"I love you, Eris..." She sighed softly.

Eris smiled, his eyes brimming with tears, "I love you too, Cela..."

With that, Celastrina slept, a relaxed breath going out, not taking another in, limp in her mate's arms.

"I love you, Celastrina." Eris whispered one final time, holding her close, finally letting the dam break again as he cried in her hair, inhaling the last of her scent. "I love you."

{General Taglist: @nox-ceur @sonics-atelier}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @amygdtjhddzvb @slut4acotar}

#acotar #acotar series #acosf #acomaf #acowar #my oc #eris acotar #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #eris angst #eris vanserra angst #eris fanfic #eris x oc #autumn court #acotar fandom

120 notes · View notes

reveristcalicocan · 2 years ago

Text

(ALMOST) PASSING OUT IN FRONT OF THEM gn!reader

can be seen as either platonic or romantic, if i used any gender/pronouns please do lmk! I try to keep most of my work gender neutral but once in a while i’ll still make some mistakes!!

characters included: Amber, Cyno, Diluc, Ganyu, Heizou, Xiao,

warnings: passing out/fainting, overworked reader, poor mental and physical health for xiao’s.

AMBER

Oh she’s the sweetest of them all

Would try to catch you before you fall

Takes you back to the Knights or Barbara for help

Amber was busy talking with some of the Mondstadt citizens she didn’t realise the way you swayed a little on your feet. You’ve been feeling unwell since last night but you didn’t want to let Amber know, she had been so excited to be partnered up with you for the mission there was no way you could break her heart!

“…Amber,” your voice called out weakly, the ground started spinning, black spots appearing in your vision.

Hearing your somewhat pained voice, the outrider immediately turned her attention to you, she was quick enough to catch you before your head hit the ground.

“ah! oh no, i’m so sorry!!” Amber panicked for a while before reminding herself that the two of you were in Mondstadt and not some place far away with danger lurking right at the corner.

Breathing out a soft sigh, she would excuse herself and take you to Barbara for a check up.

CYNO

If you were expecting him to just drag you to ghandharva vile for Tighnari then you guessed right.

Except not the part where he drags you though.

Being Cyno’s assistant was a tough job, especially when you haven’t even graduated yet. It just happened all of a sudden, you only remember him asking you to follow him… and ‘till now you’re still following him.

Dashing through the streets of Sumeru city, you finally made it to the place you had agreed to meet your mentor with. You had stayed up until early morning studying for your upcoming exam, you couldn’t fail, not when Cyno put so much faith and trust in you. Your stomach growled hungrily, perhaps you should have grabbed something to eat…

“You’re here, let’s go.” The two of you set out immediately, after all it would be an extremely busy day today.

You had just finished taking out a group of fatui when a wave of dizziness washed over you. Leaning down, you gripped onto the wooden boxes for support.

ah no, this can’t be happening now…

Amidst your pain, you failed to notice the way Cyno came over to you full of concern. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, trying to get you to look at him.

“…what’s wrong?” His voice is a lot more gentle now compared to his usual tone.

“Cyno, i’m sorry- I don’t think I can…” Your sentence was cut short as you whimpered at the pain.

Cyno had no idea how you ended up in this situation, you had looked completely fine this morning… albeit you did look a little tired. Pulling you into his lap, the two of you sat together.

Occasionally a hand would come up to play with your hair or rub circles on your back. You would stay like that, against Cyno’s chest until you felt well enough to walk.

He would bring you to Tighnari, often stopping to give you a rest and some time to catch your breath.

DILUC

Now unlike the previous two, you actually passed out from getting drunk.

Diluc would 100% find a way to blame Kaeya for getting you tipsy, even if he had completely nothing to do with

Carries you bridal style, places a kiss on your forehead and pills for when you wake up on the bedside table.

This was… the fifth? no, sixth- actually it could be the seventh glass of dandelion wine you had.

Before coming to the tavern you had promised Diluc you wouldn’t get wasted… well—

You were laughing your head off while saying some incoherent words. Diluc looked at you, a part of him was concerned and the other part just wanted to strangle you to death.

“Charles, i’ll leave the rest to you.”

A pair of warm hands pulled you out of the Angels Share. Making sure you were close to him at all time, the two of you walked to Dawn Winery.

Stumbling on your own feet, you fell face first onto the ground before bursting out in a fit of laughter. Diluc rushed to check you for injuries. Not finding any, he could only smile softly at your beautiful laughter.

“We’re almost there, can you still walk?” Diluc helped you get into a sitting position.

Seeing that you were completely wasted, he had no choice but to pick you up. The rest of the journey back was full of your drunken jokes.

After sometime of walking, Diluc realised you were sound asleep.

Tucking you under the sheets, he placed a cup of water and hangover pills on the bedside table for when you’d wake.

Just before he left, he brushed your hair out of your face, giving your forehead a gentle peck.

GANYU

This girl’s overworked herself

If you passed out she’d probably lie next to you and fall asleep.

Either that or bring you back to your house.

“And we’re done!” You announced after finishing the traveler’s third commission.

“Last one is… quite some distance away.” Ganyu pointed out.

The traveler was busy attending to things in Mondstadt, leaving you and Ganyu with the task of completing her dailies. And due to her absence it seems you will no longer be able to use the teleport waypoints.

ah, what a hassle

You could have sworn you sleepwalked a bit, your legs felt heavy as you yawned again. The both of you had been walking for almost an hour, you just wanted to sleep.

As if on cue, your body decides to let you. Instantly, your limp body fell onto the grass, asleep.

“oh, ah… I guess you’re asleep.” After some contemplation, Ganyu laid down next to you.

The two of you soon fell asleep side by side… in the middle of Liyue.

Keqing eventually found the both of you though.

HEIZOU

Tries to shake you awake

Stays with you until you wake up

Would 100% take leave and care for you if needed

Heizou pulled his hair in frustration, this was by far one of the most complex cases he had received. Not only did the both of you spend restless nights going through the case but the fact that it had been almost two weeks since he first received the commission got you two on the edge of your toes.

“No, we’ve already tried this. C’mon, what are we missing?” You muttered out, clearly irritated.

Digging through the pile of papers in front of you, your eyes landed on the building in which the case occurred.

but i’ve already checked that place with detective Heizou at least five times before…

Resting your head in your hands, you felt hopeless. How could this be? You’ve never gone this long without a breakthrough before. Never.

Some time passed before you packed your bag and decided to go back to the abandoned building to take another look.

After all, some secrets only reveal themself in the darkness of the night.

The floorboards creaked beneath you, retracing your steps, you couldn’t help but feel like something was different.

“!!”

There was a plastic file sitting atop a stack of books you were sure weren’t there the last few times you came by.

Did someone just put it here? It seems relatively clean compared to the rest of the house.

Carefully you skimmed through the pages, using your kamera to take pictures of them.

So this is why we were deadlocked for so long…

Sitting down on the old couch, you took your time in reading and reviewing all the new information. Undoubtedly, time passed really fast when you were engrossed in the papers.

“Ah there you are!” Your partner’s voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“heh had a feeling i’d find you here, so what did ya find?” Squeezing himself next to you, he flipped through each and every page thoroughly.

Now that the only thing keeping you awake was out of your grasp, the restlessness of staying up all night finally took a toll on your body.

As you started to drift off to sleep, your head lay limp on Heizou’s shoulder.

A shocked expression came across the detectives face, although that soon turned into a sly smirk. Gently, he moved your head from his shoulder to his lap.

That’s better.

XIAO — f!reader

Tries to stay calm but probably ends up freaking out.

Gets Ver to help, or Zhongli.

He will 100% stay by your side and look after you a lot more once you wake up.

Since the death of your parents, you had been spiraling in and out of depression. You’ve been cooped up in your room all day, only eating when someone reminds you.

The last time you had stepped out into the sun was… some months ago. Anyone who looked at you could see how pale and skinny you were. Almost like a zombie(no offence to Qiqi).

Some of your friends came to visit but after a while they eventually left you there in your room, all alone.

A flash of green behind you told you that Xiao had come back. “It’s almost the lantern rite… come watch it with me.”

Xiao looked at your almost lifeless body, he had turned down the traveler’s offer, hoping you’d go with him instead.

“…no thank you…” Your voice trembled a bit as tears rolled down your cheeks. It seems that someone does remember you after all.

Before you knew it, Xiao had appeared in front of you with a cup of water and a bowl of soup. After helping you into a sitting position, he slowly spoon fed you the food.

He couldn’t stand the way your happy and adventurous self was now gone, leaving you a weak and helpless mortal. To live and get by on your own wouldn’t be easy, he made sure to check on you every few days but this time…

Zhongli had asked a very important task from him, one that he could not turn down. He had no idea it would take him an entire week to complete it.

An expression of guilt appeared on his face, if he had focused more on the task, maybe he would have been able to see you, check on you. Then your health wouldn’t have deteriorated to this state.

After some persuading from Xiao you finally agreed to go see the lanterns with him, but only if he stayed with you the entire time.

Leaving your room, he let you change and get ready. A sense of fear and dread crept up his spine, was this what’s best for you? Could he be asking too much?

His train of thoughts was soon interrupted by you opening the door. You wore a long white dress, much like a hospital gown. There were eminent dark circles under your eyes.

Xiao grimaced at the sight of your frail body. Taking your hand in his, he teleported the both of you atop Yujing Terrace.

the fireworks are beautiful

A ghost of a smile could be seen on your seemingly monotone face.

Once the show was over, Xiao suggested taking a walk around the harbour. After all, it’s been so long since you last saw Liyue if not the four walls of your house.

A hand in his, you struggled to keep up with his pace, even though he was walking exceedingly slow.

my body just isn’t used to so much exercise

You consoled yourself, it was nothing much to worry about.

Barely a few steps later, you could feel the way your heart pounded loudly in your ears. Your steps getting sloppier and your vision becoming limited.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tried blinking the ‘fatigue’ away.

Soon, your frail body couldn’t handle it anymore. Without warning, you collapsed to the ground in a heap. Breathing erratic and laboured.

Xiao immediately knelt down next to you, shaking your limp body. It felt like all eyes were on him, soon enough a mass of people surrounded the two.

zhongli will know what to do, he has to

Picking you up, he teleported to the Wangsheng funeral parlour.

“Oh! vigilant yaksha, what brings y- !!” The ferry lady saw your trembling body in his hands and made a move to get acloser look at the hat had happened.

“No! Stay away from her!” A dark aura surrounded him.

Backing away, she immediately went to find Zhongli.

—

“Here, eat this…” Not long after you woke up, Xiao already started formulating a plan to help you get better.

He even went as far as asking Ganyu and the traveler to keep you company while he was busy. Suffice to say, you rarely even went a day without Xiao by your side.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #heizou shikanoin x reader #genshin amber #cyno #genshin diluc #ganyu x reader #hurt/comfort #cyno x reader #diluc x reader #amber x reader #gi ganyu #ganyu x you #heizou x reader #xiao x reader #xiao x fem!reader

703 notes · View notes

sirdindjarin · 2 years ago

Text

Shelter - Joel Miller x Reader (Part Two)

Your easy emotions wreak havoc on Joel, and so do the people you two encounter... good thing you're there to help him.

In which our intrepid hero deals with some shit. And some 👉👌.

Masterlist ->

AO3 Link♥

RATING: Explicit. SEXUAL CONTENT: Consensual P in V, Choking Kink, Attempted Rape (not by Joel). VIOLENCE: Gore, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Death of an Animal (Deer Hunting).

TAGS: Joel Being Absolutely Whipped and Filthy-Mouthed, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Age Gap.

WC: 13k

As Joel steps through the doorway of the mom-and-pop furniture store, the glow of the gas lantern he’d found earlier is a beacon.

He rounds the edge of a gigantic, cheaply-made chest of drawers to see you asleep. The glow of the lantern casts amber light over your face. Your hair is strung across your cheek and Joel crushes a wild urge to crouch and brush it all away. He glances to the left and his heart stops for a moment when he realizes Ellie is sitting up, watching him.

“You found something,” she declares without hostility.

These girls’re too observant for me. Joel lets the silence hang for a moment before deciding how to reply.

“I’m gonna talk to your sister in the mornin'.”

“Yeah, I saw you talkin’ earlier,” she snickers, then levels him with a glare. “You better be careful. I’ve got no problem killing you myself.”

He doesn't grace that with a response.

“I notice everything. I like you, Joel, but I love my sister.” Ellie shrugs dramatically, “I’m just sayin’. I’m on her side if you pull some shit.”

“I’d expect nothin’ less, kid.” Joel’s voice strains as he lowers himself down onto the sleeping bag you’d laid out for him. He wishes you hadn’t.

Ellie shifts her attention back to her book (a new one you’d found and given to her called Nancy Drew) while Joel shuffles down into his bed.

Joel lets the faint lull of the ocean carry away his stress for the night. His eyes close but he feels the desire to look at you, just a couple of yards away. He denies the desire, squeezing his eyes tighter, and focuses instead on what he can hear. A page turns. The wind's howl over the building. The sound of your steady, peaceful breath traps his attention, and he soon drifts away.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“And how do you know it’s legitimate?” You press him.

Joel sets his hands on his hips. “I know my brother's writing.”

You chew your lip. Like Joel, the day is much colder than yesterday.

“That’s a long walk."

“That’s why I’m givin’ y’all the choice,” Joel explains. “Same deal as last time.”

Your eyes twinkle as you ask, “Ah. You’re only trying to hold up your end of the deal?”

But Joel’s desperate to keep himself from falling for your charm like he had the previous evening. Instead of rejoining with a witty comment, he simply says:

“Yeah.”

Taken slightly aback by his mood, you’re quiet. Then you turn to Ellie. “What do you want to do? If you’d rather stay here, look around this area more…” you trail off, waiting for her opinion.

Ellie’s eyes dart to Joel before answering. “I mean, I’ve never seen that far north. And we should make Joel keep his promises.”

Joel can’t help but make a pfft noise at that.

“Do you want us to come with you?” You ask him point-blank. It’s that simple for you.

And he can’t answer that. Yes, he did; and no, he didn’t. Yes, he wants the two of you to come with him. But no, he didn’t need the weakness of his growing attachment to both of you. It isn’t that simple for him, and he bristles when you try to make it so.

He raises and lowers his shoulders in a half-hearted motion. “If you come, you can always leave, but if you stay here for now, you’ll prob’ly never find it.”

Your shoulders sag at the deflection, but you’re not surprised. It had been out of character for him to have gotten so close to you last night, so it should come as no surprise when he returns to his regular, shut-everyone-out attitude.

“Okay. Good point. Ellie, if you’re not interested in staying here, that’s all I care about.”

“It’s fucking nice here. It’s so cool. But I miss people. Decent, normal people.” Ellie cuts to the chase, and you ruffle the ends of her ponytail fondly. “All we got is Joel,” she digs at him with a sly look.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid,” Joel scoffs. “Alright, we’ll set out tomorrow. Spend today gathering supplies.”

“I’ll make a list,” you offer.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

That evening, as you say your goodbye to the ocean, you stand on a jetty hugging yourself. It’s the hour of sunset, and you’ve never seen a more beautiful one.

Sunbeams paint the clouds violet, gold, pink, and red. Some clouds in the distance are a heavy gray, pregnant with the storm that will come in the night. The sky behind is a deep blue. And, though none fall, you’re unembarrassed by the tears that well in your eyes.

Your parents never saw the sea. You may never see it again after tomorrow morning. Loss in the face of such grandeur feels more poignant.

Joel stands beside a sand dune, lost in thought once again. How do you maintain the capacity to feel so much and keep getting up every day? He’d spent the last eight years in a cloud of violence, alcohol, and occasionally something heavier. He couldn’t find it in him to care about himself half of the time, let alone a fucking sunset.

Frustrated at his fascination with you, he turns his back to finish preparing for the long walk to come.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Over a week later, the three of you cross the western edge of the state. The slog through the lowlands had been made easier by the discovery of a working pickup truck two days earlier. It had to have been used by someone recently, though no one had been at the rural home when you’d boosted it.

It was old, and the gas gauge perpetually stated it was on E, so Joel siphoned gas every two hours. Because of this, it was necessary to take the interstate or other, passable roads with vehicles laying around like miniature gas stations.

The days spent walking had been hell. There had been no breeze, and the weather had been so mild as to have the three of you sweating under your clothes. You’d had to remove everything but your jeans and your dirty tank top.

Joel hated that. He’d have fought the weather if he could.

He’d been outright rude to you several times. Cutting over you when you spoke, or intentionally asking Ellie a question that you should’ve been asked. Then, sometimes he would slip up. You caught him staring at you, your chest, or your hips. Each time he was caught, he’d withdraw sullenly until Ellie annoyed him with a terrible pun.

He was also caring.

Separately, and more than once, you and Ellie had woken up with his jacket draped over your sleeping form. He answered some of Ellie’s prying questions (“What did you do for work?” “Now or before?” “Both, I guess.” “I was a contractor. After it all went to shit, I transported… contraband.”) without much fuss.

He often kept watch with Ellie, telling her the odd short, humorous story from his distant past. He never told her about his family, nor details on his life after the outbreak.

The first time you'd woken up to Joel's heavy, pleasantly musky jacket across your body, it was like he had cursed you. Your eyes trailed him the entire day as his powerful stride pushed him forward, the lazy confidence of his hand resting on his gun. You watched his throat and the hook of his nose as he took a drink of water, unbelievably parched yourself.

Then he caught you. His eyes, unwilling to see what was flashing neon in your own, tore through you. He refused to give in, but daily he made it worse.

To the unending amusement of both of you, he even delivered the punchline to Ellie’s first joke of the day once. Unpredictable motherfucker, you frequently cursed at him in your mind.

Today, the atmosphere in the cab is stiff - at least between you and Joel - and no one had spoken in over an hour. You knew Joel wouldn’t be the one to break the silence, and you’re unsurprised by the one who does.

“Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?” Ellie asks.

At the odd question, you turn your body to look at her in the backseat, but she’s hidden behind her joke book. Oh, you realize. “Hmm, I don’t know. Why?”

“The answer is: ‘Because his wife died.’” Ellie lowers the book and frowns. “I don’t get it.”

Joel chokingly laughs. It’s so unexpected that you and Ellie stare at him for several seconds.

“He comes in a bottle.” Joel chuckles again and looks at you pointedly.

“Oh.” You cover your mouth and snicker. “Oh.” You sit back in your seat, your cheeks red.

“No, no! Don’t do that - what am I missing?” Ellie yells. She returns her eyes to the page as if the context will appear. Somehow, it does.

“Oh, my god. I get it. I wasn’t expecting a dirty joke; that’s the first one in here.” She muses.

“Thank fuck,” you comment.

The tension between you and Joel had been nearly unbearable, and the slips in his emotional unavailability were driving you insane. Avoiding thinking about… that… was the only way you’d survived being stuck in this enclosed space with him.

“There’s a whole section of them,” Ellie says with awe.

You whirl around to try and snatch the book from her, but she’s faster. She holds the book out of your reach, your seatbelt locking you in place.

“Ellie, give me that.”

“Why?”

“Let her keep it,” Joel interjects.

Ellie looks at the back of his head like he’d grown an extra one.

You ignore him. “Ellie, for fuck’s sake, at least skip the dirty jokes.” Your imploring eyes tell her what she needs to know: Don’t make this more awkward for me than it already is.

“Okay, okay, chill the hell out.” She rolls her eyes and sighs at you as only a teenager can. Then she motions at you, then Joel, then you again.

“I know,” you groan.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel’s an attractive driver. It’s an odd thing to think, but you can’t help it. He casually holds the wheel with his left hand while his right elbow braces on the center console. Occasionally his obscenely thick fingers stroke the scruff on his face. You wish he wouldn’t.

“Hey, we’re not far from that house with the chickens are we?” You observe as the rolling hills flow by.

“Think it’s about a half-hour that way,” Joel indicates out your window. His hand crosses into your personal space, flustering you. “I doubt the ones we left alive are alive anymore.”

“Yeah - no, I was just wondering. That was good meat, though. What a waste.” It had been so long since you’d had chicken, you’d forgotten how delicious it was.

The day you met him, Joel had killed a couple and cooked the meat that night and the next day. Unfortunately, you’d had no way to transport chicken - live or dead. It wasn’t lost on you, however, that Joel used the word “we” when he had been the one to kill, clean, and cook it.

Ellie breaks the silence again. “Hey, Joel.”

He hums questioningly.

“What’s your last name?”

He responds with automatic promptness, “Miller.”

Ellie contemplates. “Joel Miller. Sounds good, I like it.”

Joel Miller. It does sound good. Everything about him is so attractive, I hate it, you complain petulantly. Why couldn’t he have been ugly?

As the truck crests the hill, a huge valley opens up through the windshield. A loud boom! shudders through the car. Joel clamps onto the steering wheel with both hands, keeping control of the vehicle until the power steering gives out. Fish-tailing onto the shoulder and down into the grassy ditch, the car comes to a jolting stop halfway down the mountain.

“Ellie, y’okay?” Joel spits out the question faster than your mouth opens to ask the same thing.

“Yeah. What the fuck, man?” It’s rhetorical.

Joel’s alarmed eyes rake you over, “You alright?”

“I’m good. What happened?”

“Think the tire blew.” He slams his hand on the steering wheel, “Fuck.”

“Great.” You peek out the window and notice the sun’s position. “It’s going down. I don’t think we should stay in the car tonight.”

Joel grunts in agreement and ducks to look in the rearview mirror. “Those rocks should be safe.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

In the blackness of the evening, the three of you lay in a triangle formation upon a large shelf of a limestone cliff. The cliff vaults up to your right, and down to the left. The view of the valley had been beautiful during sunset, but for once you had been too stressed to notice.

You lie on your sleeping bag, Ellie’s head at your foot. Joel lies with his head near yours. Concentrating on either fixing the car or abandoning it consumes you to a point that you don’t notice when Ellie starts snoring. Nor do you notice when Joel moves his bag closer to you.

“What're you thinkin' about?”

“Joel- what the hell," startled from your spiral of anxiety, you jump. "Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

“I can tell.”

Your head turns sharply, and you squint at him in the darkness, trying to determine what his goal was. “What’s that mean?”

“You didn’t say anything about the view from up here. Just wonderin' what you’re worryin’ about.”

Oh. He noticed that? You blush, thankful for the cover of night.

“Oh. Well,” you fully roll over to face him. His head is propped on his hand, and his silhouette is all you can see. “I’m worried about walking so far. Or trying to find a tire. I’m pissed off about the pain in my arm. I’m worried about Ellie.” Your voice fades to a mutter, “I’m worried about- about you.”

It’s quiet for a beat too long. “Why about me?”

“I -” you’re not sure how to say what you want, so you settle for the basics. “You’re unpredictable. I feel like one day we’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. And even though Ellie and I were on our own for so long before, it’s been…” you look for an appropriate word, “It’s been helpful having another adult I can count on.”

And here it was for Joel. He wasn’t stupid. You’re skirting around telling him that both you and Ellie have grown fond of him. He didn’t want that.

No, that isn’t true. The truth is he shouldn’t want it.

Joel doesn’t answer.

The natural sounds of the night replace your conversation. It’s so still, so quiet. You lay your head down and curl into a comfortable position facing the man.

You hadn’t expected him to respond. He’d accidentally shown you cracks in his armor by parenting Ellie occasionally, helping with a task that should’ve been yours or Ellie’s alone like keeping watch or preparing dinner, and laughing.

For fuck’s sake, laughing with us - but still he kept the armor.

Sleep has taken you when Joel quickly pushes a lock of hair over your shoulder and states,

“‘m not goin' anywhere.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The sound of rubber rolling on pavement is the background to Ellie’s unceasing chatter. The bright sunshine feeds her mood as though she survives on photosynthesis. She’d left her joke book at the campsite, but she jabbers on about nothing and everything. After trekking for an hour, you managed to find a tire that Joel agreed should fit the truck. If it could shorten your cross-country trip by even a day, it was worth the effort.

Joel hunches over the tire, rolling it back up the highway. His backpack and gun sway with his movements. The awkward angle and the added weight of his gear have his brow dripping sweat.

“So, what if it’s really snowy up there? Will we get frostbite? What if we find a moose - do those still exist? Aren’t they like the size of a house?” Ellie’s exuberance couldn’t be stopped.

“Joel, please…” you murmur as you jog up alongside him. You slip your fingers under the strap of his rifle, trying to relieve him of at least one burden. Joel abruptly straightens at the contact, leveling you with a questioning look. Your lips twist into a reassuring smile. You curl your fingers tighter and tug the strap down his arm.

“I’ll take the backpack, too.” You keep your voice gentle as though you’re trying not to spook him. He allows you to take the gun but jerks away when you reach for his backpack strap.

“No, it’s heavy. I don’t want you takin’ both.”

“I know it’s heavy, that’s why I’m trying to take it from you.”

The gun is slipped from you as Ellie brushes your side. You’d been too focused on Joel to realize that she’d stopped thinking aloud.

“Now she can take the backpack, ya stubborn old man.” Ellie slings the rifle and stalks ahead.

A bead of sweat falls from his temple; he’s defeated. With a groan, he shrugs off his pack and holds it up for you.

“If it gets too heav-”

“Stop pretending to be a gentleman,” you reach for the bag.

Your fingers close partially around Joel’s, rewarding you with the sultriness of his rough fingers. For an extended breath, Joel doesn’t let go; he squeezes it a little harder. Eventually, he unclasps his hand, allowing you to bear the weight.

A couple of miles later, the silver truck is visible among the trees. You quicken your step.

Joel's gotta roll the tire up that hill.

“Can I help you carry it somehow? Rolling it up this isn’t gonna be fun,” you offer.

Joel simply shakes his head, breathing deeply in resignation. He lifts it, grunting, deciding to carry it the last length. You’re glad he denied your offer because, wow, why is that so hot? You stare after him for far too long.

At the top of the hill, a younger blonde man peeks in the truck's window. Ellie hands Joel's gun back to him, then, as you taught her, she circles into the trees out of sight.

"Howdy," the man straightens and calls out to you and Joel. "Got any ammo?"

Joel has his gun pointed at the man before he finishes speaking.

"No."

Deciding that Joel wasn't the best negotiator, you step ahead.

"Are you looking to trade or to steal?" You step cautiously closer and the blonde man gets a better look at you.

"Well, shit, I would've put on my two-day old clothes instead of my week-old ones if I'd known I'd run into you."

"You know this guy?" Joel snaps at your back.

"No?" His tone confuses you. Then to the trader, "Whatcha looking for?"

"I need some nine-millimeter, preferably. Shouldn't be too much of an ask since they're the most common. I do have some food up for trade." He holds up a large, navy duffle bag.

It was obvious to you that this man was used to his good looks and charm winning him points. He was slightly older than you, and you couldn't lie, this guy must've done well for himself in the apocalypse. He looked healthy, attractive, and normal.

The man continues, "I'm Zach. You show me yours and I'll show you mine?" He grins, but it fades fast. "Just tell the attack dog to calm down."

Attack dog?

You turn to catch a look at Joel: he stands with his gun pointed casually and coldly in Zach's general direction. You've never seen such an intimidating, contemptuous look on his handsome face. A shiver runs through you. Your poorly-timed attraction to him heightens. A tumult of terrible things you want him to do to you crash through your mind.

"Are you okay?" You quietly ensure.

Joel gives a curt nod, never taking his eyes from the younger man.

You face the trader. "Sorry, we don't have any nine-millimeter. We don't have anything to trade, really."

"Ah, that's fine. There's another group around this area. Maybe I'll try them."

"A group?" You query, your voice rising in concern.

"Yeah, you ain't seen anyone, sweetheart? There's a whole community of farmers. Rumor is they have chickens."

"Oh," you stutter. "Wow, chickens."

"Yeah. Supposed to be a lot of folks, so I guess that'll be my next try."

Zach looks you up and down, a genuine smile gracing his clean-cut face.

"You sure you don't wanna take a day trip with me? Take you to see some chickens? I'm sure your dad won't mind?" The winsome younger man cocks his head at Joel as if asking permission.

In the span of a second, Joel is a brick wall in front of you. He raises his rifle, his scope trained on the man's chest.

"If you don't get the fuck outta here, I'll give you those bullets you're beggin' around for."

The barely-restrained anger in his voice involuntarily has you leaning closer to him. He sounded like he was speaking to a deadly threat, and you instinctively crave his protection. Your heart races, wondering what spooked Joel.

Zach throws up his hands, "Fuck, man. Okay. I can't hit on her? Sheezus."

He starts back up over the hill, throwing worried looks every now and then, seemingly terrified that Joel will act on his inexplicably violent mood.

When he's gone, Ellie comes popping out from behind a tree.

"Damn, Joel, you made that guy piss his pants," she approves.

"What happened?"

The intense belief in your eyes that Joel had been morally right in that situation almost bothers him. He'd threatened the kid because the kid threatened him. Joel can't put rational words to it, but you're his… responsibility.

"Had a forty-five on him. Not a nine-millimeter," Joel lies.

"Wow, you could tell that?" Ellie's face glows. "That's impressive as shit. Teach me the difference? And how to shoot?"

Knowing damn well that Joel had never seen any weapon on the guy, you tell your excited younger sister, "He will, El, but first he's gotta change the tire and get us going again."

Joel rubs his jaw, sure you saw through him. “Actually, might be good to go hunting here where the woods’re thicker. And I'd gotta go before dark.”

"I'll go with you," you don't let him squirm away. "Ellie, you know the drill. Keep an extra eye out while that guy's around. I think he's-" You wanted to say harmless, but realized that would undermine Joel's actions.

"I think he's gone; but just in case," you hand her your rifle.

Ellie looks from butt to barrel with awed respect.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"So, what the hell was that about?" You interrogate Joel once the two of you are a fair distance into the woods.

"Nothin'," is Joel's forthcoming reply.

"Joel, for the love of-" you grab his shoulder and spin him to face you. "What set you off?"

Joel works his jaw, looking away from you, then meets your eyes with a faintly-playful tilt of his head.

"He called me old." Joel's face is impassive.

You fight a smirk. "Are you being serious? Ellie calls you old all the time."

"He was annoyin' me."

"I annoy you."

"I know, you're doin' it right now."

Sighing, you give up. "Fine, don't tell me."

"You upset I scared off a suitor?"

"A suitor? Damn, you are old." You push his arm in jest as you both continue marching through the woods. "He was too young for me."

"He was older than you."

"Too young." You say again. "Too happy. Too charming."

"Oh, he was charming, huh? That was workin' on you?"

You catch his eye and smile like you have a secret, "No."

Joel knows you're goading him, and his chest aches with exhilaration. He'd point loads of guns at loads of people if you'd keep smiling at him like that.

You breathe out the word, “Deer,” and Joel sinks into a crouch, tugging you down with him. The two of you take cover behind a downed hemlock. His rifle rests on the treebark following the soft footsteps of a large animal.

The way he pulled you down has you pressing into his side and you’re certain even the deer can hear your thumping heart.

But neither of you move. You can feel the unyielding firmness of his body; it’s so incredibly comforting to you that it’s all you can think about. Joel Miller.

He breathes in, and on the exhale he fires. The shot echoes through the woods, sending a handful of crows cawing into the air. Joel retracts his rifle and turns his head to you with a faux-humble smirk.

He’s even closer than he was that night on the beach; your heart stops, then kicks into overdrive. With his hair mussed and his smile lopsided, he looks happy.

Instantly realizing his mistake, but too weak to correct it, Joel risks another glance at your lips. He peers back up at your eyes and he’s dry-mouthed at how blown your pupils are. He watches with confliction as your face changes. You swallow a sudden lump in your throat and drop your eyes.

You pull away and whisper, “I can’t do this.”

And you can’t. The constant heartache of Joel pushing and pulling at you was too much. Today, he’s open, but tomorrow he’d be withdrawn. It was selfish and it was idealistic, but you wanted all of him or nothing. Calling it a crush was trivializing your feelings. An injustice; you knew what you felt for him was stronger than that.

You stand and offer him your hand. If he couldn’t give you what you wanted, that's okay, because you’d love him anyway - as platonically as you could.

“Should we butcher it here? Or drag it? It’s gonna be a chore either way.” Your voice is forced cheer.

Joel clears his throat, thrown for a loop. “Mm. Guess we’ll drag it.”

He takes your hand and you haul him up. He pauses to put his gun back on safety and sling it over his shoulder. As he does so, you stride toward the unlucky deer.

“I didn’t know lovebirds still existed.” You’re several yards from the deer when a man’s taunt drifts on the wind.

A greasy, stocky man in his late-thirties strolls out from behind another massive hemlock. He’s halfway between you and the deer carcass. Twigs snap behind you as Joel hastens to get to your side, but the man raises his handgun.

He aims at your friend, but Joel only slows his pace. The man grunts with irritation and points the firearm at you. Joel’s footsteps stop.

“Ooh, you’re easy to control, huh?”

You picture your gun back at the campsite with Ellie as she kept watch. It’s hard to regret giving it to her, though. She had a weapon and so did you. As long as Joel was around, you’d be okay.

“What’d you want?” Joel grits out; he’s pissed.

“Buddy, I don’t like your tone. Neither do they,” and the dumpy man tilts his chin behind both of you.

Two more men crush leaves and branches below their feet as they materialize. One is older and armed with a small hunting rifle. The other is much younger than both his friends despite his beard; this man foregoes a weapon. Joel rotates to face the new problem, backing up as he does so, but the first man is wise to Joel’s play.

“Stop moving toward her.”

Joel stops once more, his teeth clench so hard that his jaw pops.

“We followed the deer. Been tracking it for a half-mile.”

“Then take it,” the inflection in Joel’s voice is flat, terrifying.

“A’right, a’right, don’t get your panties twisted,” the bearded man jeers. He then shares a meaningful look with the bulkier man near you.

Standing between Joel and the heavyset man, you’ve angled yourself diagonally to see both men. Unfortunately, Joel is not the closest. The stocky man lunges forward and snatches your left arm, wrenching it behind your back painfully. You cry out in sheer agony as his thumb digs into your stitches.

“Don't fuckin' hurt her,” Joel whips out, seething. His mouth pulls into a horrified scowl, his hands raised in desperate surrender.

The man pulls up your flannel sleeve, saying, “Ah, see, I thought you were overreacting. I was so gentle.” His oily nose sniffs your hair, “Did this guy hurt you, baby?”

You twist away from his rancid breath on your neck. It occurs to you to lie, to try to get them to believe Joel was possessive for a reason other than whatever drove him. Basic ethics, most likely.

If you lie, maybe they’d see you as less of a bargaining chip. Joel certainly wasn’t helping. He’s keeping his feelings forefront with that black look on his face.

With reluctance, you mutter, “Y-”

But it’s curtailed by your own scream as Joel stumbles to his knees. The two men stand above him - the butt of a rifle is pressed against the back of Joel’s head. His eyes find yours, and a trickle of blood drips down his forehead. Tears stream freely down your cheek.

How could they? Joel is carefully and permanently on a pedestal in your mind. The peak of masculinity - both good and bad: protective, providing, impenetrable. Seeing him bleed, sagging on his knees was unthinkable. It was perverted, wrong.

You headbutt the man in the nose, a painful crack against the top of your skull. Grabbing the barrel of his handgun, you wrench it loose and stumble away. The man swears and doubles over, hands over his face.

Gasping for breath, you aim the gun at its owner and order, "Make them back off."

"Bitch, I'm not their daddy. I don't control ‘em," the man sounds pained.

The rifleman shoves the barrel of his gun into Joel's temple. "Put it down or I'll kill him."

"Hey, listen. You owe me, now," the stocky man says. "If you set down the gun, turn yourself over, we'll leave him be."

In your moment of hesitation, you lock eyes with the man you'd never expected, fear in his wet eyes. Then a freight train barrels into your side.

The gun's owner was quicker and quieter than his build should allow. It wasn't fair.

“Now, as feisty as you may think yourself, I’m not a fan of that.”

Your cheek is roughly grabbed, squeezed, and you're forced to watch as the rifleman slams the butt of his weapon into Joel’s back. Joel sprawls onto the ground, the wind knocked from him.

Weeping freely now, you beg, “Stop hurting him. Please, please don’t.”

“You gonna do what we ask?”

Joel tries to speak, but he’s rewarded with another blow to the ribs. He groans and falls onto his uninjured side only to have the bearded man deliver a clumsy kick to his stomach.

“Yes, yes. I won't- won't fight if you’ll let him -” you break off at the look in Joel's eyes. “Please, let him go.”

“Goddamn it,” he groans.

Taking advantage of Joel’s attackers focusing on him, and the man holding you being unable to see your face, you mouth: Ellie. Take her. Go.

He growls your name and a curse which earns him another kick to the ribs. He coughs violently, then pushes himself up onto his knees, breathing heavily.

Still staring at you, he softly shakes his head ‘no’. A dead leaf falls from his hair; his brown, puppy eyes are devastated. It crushes your heart into the thousands of pieces you’d been so sure it was already in.

This doesn’t feel real. It’s as though you and Joel had slipped into a nightmare out here in the lonesome woods. None of this was real. None of it except your certainty. If you could save him, you would. You'd tried; and you'd try again. He could keep Ellie safer than you could. It’s simple for you - always had been. The decision wasn’t a decision at all. Love was a practice; a concrete, tangible thing; an action. Love sacrifices.

“‘Course. I swear. He’s not exactly our type. Good news, boys, y’all know I hate a fighter.” The man wraps an arm around you and drags you backward.

He’s deliberately slow enough to let you watch as Joel stands, pained. He punches the oncoming bearded man in the jaw and, using his momentum against him, drops the fucker to the ground. Joel then lunges for the rifleman, but the young, bearded man is up faster than he should’ve been. He snakes an arm around Joel’s throat.

“Joel!” You wail, thrashing in the man’s arms. “You fucking swore, you fucking asshole.” But you know it had been a long shot. You don’t even get to see Joel’s face one last time before you’re dragged over a ridge.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel’s temples throb with his heartbeat. The near-deafness in his right ear isn’t new, but he feels more like a flash-bang grenade exploded in his face. It had been late afternoon when he’d taken you hunting, and the pale blue lighting he sees when his eyes blink open tells him it's just after sunset.

He puffs out a cloud of the mulched forest floor between his dry lips and pushes his palms down to leverage himself off the ground. The temperature had dropped rapidly and the air stings his bruised lungs.

It’s then that he hears your cry. It’s muffled like someone has their hand over your mouth. He hears feet scrabbling in the leaves, and his body physically stiffens at the remembrance of where he is.

Rage and panic napalm his mind. Those assholes must believe they’d killed him because no one in their right mind would leave Joel Miller alive; not when they had his… his.

He wanted to be mad at you. Wanted so desperately the chance to be mad at you. How could you believe them? Why would they have let him go once you stopped fighting? His heart races and he wonders if he's having a heart attack. He had been right in the beginning about you being too trusting. He had been right this whole time.

He hides his fear of losing you behind blame, anger. But then his own guilt kicks him. You were doing exactly what you’d do for Ellie. For anyone you cared for. He should’ve been stronger. He should’ve saved you.

Joel casts a searching eye for a weapon, though the righteous rage inside him would be enough. There it is. He can’t quite believe it. One of these boys with a room-temperature IQ had left his .22 propped against a tree trunk near the lip of the earthy depression.

Ignoring the pain lancing through his body, Joel crouches and shakily snatches up the gun. He moves to the top of the small rise and peers around a tree.

Sitting on your shins is the bearded man who knocked him out; the sandy-haired man’s grimy fingers are trying to shimmy your jeans down. The second man, the rifleman, whom Joel now notices is wearing a torn band shirt, is seated in the dirt above your head, pinning your arms. The third member of the goon squad, their leader, is straddling you, kissing your neck.

Joel refuses to look at your face because if he does he’ll go insane. Instead, he raises the .22 in a flash and fires a shot at at the music fan holding your arms. His orbital bone shatters, blood spurting everywhere.

Without pausing, Joel launches out from behind the tree and swings the .22 into the head of the man who took you from him. He swings the gun as if he’s winning the World Series with it. The resounding crack is so loud that Joel knows he’s killed the fucker instantly. That pisses him off more. A better death than the shitstain deserved.

Two men are dead before they even know he’s coming. Joel turns on the last one who’s now crab-walking backward from your legs.

“Hey, hey, please,” the younger man holds up a hand in panicked surrender. “You killed my brother, you killed him! Ain’t that enough?”

“You’re right behind him,” Joel grits out. He tosses the gun aside.

“Please, no, listen. No, no,” the man begs.

You retract your knees, hugging them to your chest as you sit up. Your body is a tempest of fear, revulsion, relief, horror, disgust, gratitude, and anger. You’re not sure which one you feel strongest. You’d been hassled before, nearly every woman left in the world had been and the odds hadn’t been great pre-outbreak, anyway. But it’d never been that close.

All you focus on now is Joel. Alive, and standing between you and all the world.

“Close your eyes.”

He doesn’t tell you to run because you’re already in the safest place you could be. You don’t want to close your eyes. If you do, he might disappear. You can't give up a sense while drowning in fear. Take your eyes off the one buoy you had? You just can't do it.

The sounds you hear are worse than what you see. There’s the dull thudding sound of Joel’s fists connecting with your attacker’s face, the man’s primal screams suddenly stopping, and the squelching of blood.

Joel kneeling over the man, his solid right arm rising and slamming down is all you see. It's all you want to see. You'd be lying if you said his violent defense of you wasn't thrilling, wasn't stirring something inside you.

It will haunt you for a while, but the relief of Joel being alive would ease all pain. And in truth, the would-be rapist deserved it. He deserved that side of Joel just as you deserve the other side of him.

You finally close your eyes when Joel's swings slow. Tucking into yourself, you relive the last few minutes and begin to cry.

There’s a hand in your hair. You flinch and your arms go up to protect yourself when you feel a weight sink to the ground beside you. Opening your eyes, you’re unable to move in the sight of Joel’s frenzied face. Freckles of blood dot his skin, and his eyes are wild. His breathing is rapid as his hand combs through your hair.

“You’re okay,” his deep voice is raw, “you’re okay.”

He crushes you to him - his hand cradles the back of your skull while you bury your face in his chest. A pained groan rolls from his mouth but he doesn’t let go. His earthy, leather scent is grounding.

You scramble to match his kneeling position to fit into him further; you push underneath his jacket, wrapping your arms around his torso, needing to feel him. He rests his cheek on top of your head.

“I thought they killed you,” you cry brokenly into his clothing, the inconsolable grief of losing him still pressing on you.

“Never fuckin’ do that again,” it’s too soon for him to be mad, but he tries anyway. He pulls back just enough to take your face in both hands, “If you’re given that choice again, you do not choose me.” His troubled eyes dart between yours.

You know you can’t retort, so you drop your gaze. You can’t promise you won’t take a bullet for him, because you would. Just like you would for Ellie. You slowly retract your arms from underneath his jacket, feeling awkward.

“I’ll try to think of something else first,” you answer him, your voice laden with too many emotions.

You tilt your head up to see Joel’s beautiful face marred by a tortured expression. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your cheeks.

He wants you to be strong, yes. To fight. You are unapologetic joy and he can’t lose that. Joel would happily die if he knew you’d still smile at nature, at all your small reasons, at your sister. He can’t lose you, can't fail you.

In great contrast to the gentle way he holds your face, his jaw is clenched so hard that it looks painful. Concern creases your brow and your mouth opens a fraction to ask if he’s alright, but Joel’s lips are suddenly swallowing your question.

He burns away the swirling mire in your mind. There’s nothing, no pain or fear. Nothing except for him. His kiss is desperate - a leaf clinging to summer. As your hand returns to caress his side underneath his jacket, you can feel his heart beating as fast as your own.

A soft moan is forced from you when his hand fists in your hair. Your hands slide up his flannel-covered torso to cup his scruffy chin.

You part your lips, and breathe, “Joel.”

He moans into your mouth.

Then you delve into him, deepening the kiss. His arms encircle you, one hand in your hair, the other squeezing your ass, keeping your body flush against his. He’s even warmer than you imagined. The night chill no match for him.

A bird tweets in the distant dusk. Then it’s as if he suddenly returns to earth: he leans back, putting distance between the two of you.

“’m sorry. That was… bad. This is -” he stops, looking around, and presses his swollen lips into a thin line. “Not right. Sorry. We’ll go find Ellie.”

With that, he lets go of you completely, leaving you adrift. He stands and offers his hand to you. Confused, more muddled than you’ve ever been in your life, you accept the help silently. He drops your hand as soon as you’re upright.

Holy shit. He kissed me, right? Or did I lean in first? His rejection stomps on the already-broken pieces of your heart. I knew he wouldn’t let me in.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Ellie hops off a rock and slams into you, nearly bowling you over. She tilts her head to look up at you, and you wipe away her tear stains.

“I could hear you yelling. I could hear it, but I promised.” She cries in horror, referring to what you had ingrained into her every day since the outbreak: if you two were separated, she stayed put. She never came if she heard trouble. Ever. No exigent circumstances. She’d hated that promise, fought you on it constantly, but fucking hell were you glad she listened. You refused to even entertain what might’ve happened had Ellie been there.

“We’re alright, Ellie. I’m so sorry.” You smile tiredly. “Everyone’s okay.”

To your right, you see Joel out of the corner of your eye. Ellie leans over and grasps his sleeve, making sure he’s tangible. Joel’s mouth twitches in a tiny but reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, kid.”

“You guys look like shit,” she swipes at her tears.

Joel barks a laugh, the quick change in Ellie’s disposition precisely what was needed.

“I’d like nothing better than a hot shower,” you reply. You can still feel their grimy hands on your body. You shudder.

“Dunno ‘bout a hot shower, but I’m sure we could find a spring tomorrow.”

You sigh, “Guess that’ll have to do.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Are you -” Joel stumbles over his thoughts, “Are you gonna be okay? To sleep, I mean?”

“Unlikely,” you give him an uneasy smile. “I’m happy to take the first watch.”

“Alright,” he settles on the rock next to you.

You protest, irritated, “Please go rest. You've had a - a bad day, too.” You needed time to process everything and his presence was distracting.

“I’m not gonna rest if you’re keeping watch alone.”

You scoff. “I learned my lesson, okay?”

Was he hellbent on making you mad at him tonight? After he saved your ass? For the third time. Oh, my god. I really am one big problem for him.

Redness flushes your cheeks at the realization. You owe him so much yet all he does is drive you insane. Sorting out your feelings about everything was priority number one.

“That’s not what I m-”

“Well, what do you mean?”

“If you’d let me fuckin’ finish,” he makes a frustrated hand motion. “Got a hard enough time admitting it at all, an’ you want me to just come out with a poem or some shit?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I think we should eat those last two granola bars. Don’t you guys? They’ve been in my pack for, like, three weeks.” Ellie walks over and interrupts purposefully, tired of the argument.

“Well, they lasted eight years, so I don’t think a few days will affect them, but that’s fine with me.”

Ellie trots over to her backpack and breaks two bars in half. She returns and gives you one half and Joel another. Holding her own half from the second bar, she “clinks” her bar with yours.

“Cheers,” she laughs before biting her piece. You smile and take a small bite of yours. Ellie wanders toward the sleeping bags, slowly picking apart her granola bar.

Under your breath, you tell Joel, “Please go get some sleep. I owe you and I’m fine.”

He stamps the butt of his gun on the rock he’d been sitting on in acknowledgment, then mercifully leaves you to your daunting task.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It's still dark when your relief comes. He looks terrible. His knuckles are flaked with both his and another's blood, and his forehead still bears traces of the afternoon.

"There's a stream down there," you indicate to your right. Its babbling could be heard in the quiet air.

"I'm fine," he grouses.

"Joel…" you gently chide.

Pulling a shirt from your pack, you walk off to the stream. You're back less than a minute later, and you point at the rock you'd been sitting on.

"Yes, ma'am," his voice is still monotone.

You position yourself in front of him, his face level with yours. He closes his eyes as you carefully rub the damp cloth across his dirty, blood-streaked forehead.

"It's been hours, why didn't you clean up?"

Joel only shrugs in answer.

"What's wrong?" You stop wiping.

His eyelids open and the flickering campfire reflects in his glassy eyes.

"Can you just keep doin' that?" He closes his eyes once more. You oblige.

He doesn't mean to, he doesn't even register that he's done it until it's too late. He flinches as his sore, bruised knuckles bend to fit his hands around your hips. You tenderly grasp one and begin to wipe it free of residue.

Neither of you speaks, too lost in your own thoughts and in the moment. Joel feels so close and so distant.

You’d sorted through your emotions over the near-assault with brashness. It was the end of the world. Dwelling on things you had survived was pointless.

No, the problem was Joel. You thought you’d got him killed, then he was alive, then the kiss, then he rejected you. Guilt, grief, joy, embarrassment.

You still weren't sure who initiated the kiss, and his defensive coldness led you to believe it had been you. In truth, you supposed you were just back at square one. Joel forever opening up then shutting down again.

It only made you feel worse. Desperately you wanted to cling to him, have him tell you that he didn’t blame you. Have him make the world go away. But even if he did that now, it wouldn’t last. He wouldn’t let you fully inside.

“Thank you,” Joel murmurs when you back away.

“Like I said, I owe you.” Your voice gives away no inflection.

Joel watches you walk over to where Ellie lay. You kiss her forehead, then cuddle in behind her. He sees you whisper something in her ear.

Joel understands. An easy reprieve from your own emotions was to care for another’s.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The silver truck glimmers behind you. You regard it with sadness before trudging onward. The sun beads in your eyes as the westward walk continues. Looking down isn’t a reprieve as the sun reflects off the pure snow. The soft, rolling plains stretch out, but the horizon is jagged with the promise of greater hills or rock formations. There’s not a single car to be seen.

“It got us through, like, four fucking states in three days,” Ellie holds up a map of the Midwest you’d found at a state welcome center.

“You mean I got us through four fuckin’ states in three days,” Joel boasts.

It had been too long since he’d filled the gas tank, but with the broken gauge, he’d been unable to predict exactly when the vehicle would give up the ghost. The answer was somewhere over the border of Nebraska.

“Sure, Joel, you did it all on your own,” Ellie rolls her eyes. She kicks a chunk of snow. “I’m so happy you're here to do everything.”

Since the fight, you’d found it difficult to even look at the man next to you. You had bared yourself to him that day; shown him that you were willing to die for him, that you trusted him with Ellie, that your greatest fear had been his death; and then that fucking kiss. And here you both were: unable to look at each other.

“At least one of you is,” Joel mutters, his breath clouding in the freezing air.

The man could find his way under your skin even if you were wearing a latex bodysuit. You bite your lip to prevent the automatic, angry retort.

Thinks I’m dead weight. You think bitterly. Don't blame him too much. Almost got him killed. Probably thinks of me as a dumb kid.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to quell the heartbreak. You understood his opinion: you’re weak because you care. You had given up on trying to show him that that was the only way you could live with yourself.

A cloud blows over the afternoon sun, illuminating the land in a new way. The horizon silhouettes a building in the distance, at least a mile out. You shield your eyes, then point.

“Shelter?” Your teeth chatter together with perfect timing and, from the corner of your eye, you see motion. Joel is unwinding the scarf he’d found. He drapes it around your neck.

“Wrap it over your chin,” he instructs.

You do so. It had been a new scarf from the same rest stop where you’d picked up the map. It smelled old, but it was warm. His warmth. You regret curling it over your mouth because on top of the old smell was Joel. At least he can’t see most of your face now.

Joel relished the way something of his - albeit his for less than a few days - looked on you. He’d take what he could get. You’d pried open his hardened heart and nestled inside. Joel had never met anyone like you. So capable and vulnerable and easy to be with. And fucking irritating. And stubborn. God, you piss him off.

You’d been different since that night and Joel hadn’t the emotional intelligence to work out your problem. As far as he could reason, you were upset with him for not saving you sooner, or for kissing you at such a shit moment; or, he worried, kissing you at all. His fear that you see him as a father figure grows larger.

“You and I go in, Ellie covers the front?” You start planning. “Together or me in the back?”

“Could be one of those state historical cabins, so there might be only one door anyway,” Joel theorizes.

“Good point,” you concede.

You evaluate Ellie’s back as she walks in front, wondering if you could get away with a hushed conversation with Joel. The heaviness between the two of you was reaching a breaking point for you. You’re just one state away from Wyoming now, and you can’t let him leave without fixing whatever was happening. Luckily, the wind howls occasionally from the west, so your words are unlikely to carry to her ears.

You drop back, slowing your pace. Joel notices and slows as well.

“Is it because I told them you hurt me? Because I kissed you? Or because I- because I almost got you killed? Is that why you're still so mad at me?” You pepper him suddenly.

Joel couldn’t be more surprised if you had stabbed him.

“No, I know why y’ told ‘em I did that,” he answers. “An’ I know you thought trading yourself was the best option.” His voice drops an octave, “It wasn’t, but I get it.”

“You get it? You don't blame me? Then why are you being so mean to me?” You plead.

“What?” Joel's face turns to yours.

“You’re even colder than usual. You make these little digs at me, you don’t trust me to keep watch half the time anymore. You treat me like a child you’re disappointed in.” The irony smacks into you when you nearly whine that last sentence.

Joel grabs your arm, stopping you and turning you to face him.

"I don’ do those things because I think you’re a child. And I thought you were the one who was mad-” he pauses, unsure how to organize his argument. Snowflakes catch in his gray hair. His dark eyes are stark against the white surroundings. “But I couldn’t feel less fatherly 'bout you if I tried.”

“What - what the fuck does that mean?” You ask, baffled and failing to keep your pitch low. Ellie notices now that the two of you have stopped.

“Can you guys fight in the damn cabin up there?” She crosses her arms and tilts her head back dramatically. “Either kiss or kill each other, I’m so tired of this.” And with that, she spins around.

When you reignite eye contact with Joel, he’s burning a hole through you with every emotion you’ve ever made him feel. There’s a moment when you think he’ll take Ellie’s advice, but then he sighs.

“Go on, girl,” he gestures ‘after you’.

“‘Girl’? You said you weren't infantilizing me.” You scoff.

“Infantilizing? Well, ain’t that a five-dollar word, where’d ya learn that?” he snarks in exasperation. God, you piss him off.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel had been right, again. You were getting tired of that. An empty wooden box with a fireplace on the lower level, the cabin was at least a shelter from the snow flurrying down. It had plain, empty floors and a staircase with no railing but a trapdoor to separate the top floor from the bottom. That was handy in case a problem arose.

There was a great debate about lighting the fire. All three of you took turns arguing both for and against it (Ellie: “But it’s fucking frozen in here,” Joel: “You wanna alert any dumbass in the area to our presence, darlin’, go ahead,”), but in the end, the frigid temperature had the final say. Ellie and Joel ventured back into the growing white swirl outside to look for wood in the tiny shed.

While they were gone, you laid out the camping gear and set about making this house a home for the night. In the corner, you notice an old brochure for the place.

Perfect. Kindling.

You dig through your pack to find your lighter when Ellie shoves open the heavy wooden door with two logs in her arms. She kicks the door closed, despite its weight.

“This was all I got, but I think Joel might’ve got more.” She announces, slamming the logs onto the hearth.

“Was he right behind you?” You ask, laughing preemptively.

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

She runs to the door and jerks it back open. There’s Joel standing in the doorway with his arms full of wood. His leveled glare and signature frown send both you and Ellie into fits of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie chuckles.

Joel’s long legs step over the threshold, and when he gets close enough to Ellie, he shakes his hair over her, showering her in melting snowflakes.

Still laughing, Ellie blocks him with her hands and cries, “You dick!”

Sitting cross-legged next to the hearth, you no longer need the fire, warmed by the scene playing out in front of you. No matter the type of relationship with Joel, you couldn’t care about the two of them any more than you do now. The smile on your face is so wide that you feel like you'll split.

Joel approaches and sets the logs down far more gently than Ellie had next to the fireplace. You hold up the two logs Ellie had grabbed, and together with Joel, start the fire.

After a dinner of canned veggies, Ellie sprawls out on the floor in her t-shirt and jeans. Joel sits with his back to the flames while you lean against the heated stones.

“It’s hot down here,” Ellie complains.

Joel's face darkens with irritation.

“I’m allowed to be hot.”

“You’re the only reason we got the damn thing going,” he accuses. “You got too much energy. It’s got you all -” he makes a shaking motion with his hands.

“I do not,” Ellie yawns. “I’m actually exhausted.”

“That floor upstairs has a trapdoor. Might be cooler, El.”

“Doesn’t heat rise or some shit?” Ellie asks.

“Yes, but this place is airtight and I’m betting it’s colder up there. I don’t care what you do, I’m just telling you.”

“Okay, I’ll go look.” Ellie hops up in a fluid motion and bounds across the room and up the stairs. She’s gone for a few moments, and you picture her standing with her eyes closed acting like a human thermometer.

She stomps down the creaky old steps, “It’s way cooler but not cold so I’m gonna sleep up there.” She starts to gather her sleeping bag, pillow, and her clothes.

Your stomach lurches. Alone with Joel overnight? That’s… that’s never happened.

“Do you want company, Ellie?” You ask, trying to take the coward’s way out.

“Uhh. Do you mind staying down here?” Ellie asks with a grimace. A teenager has to take every opportunity to be independent.

“Course not. Just making sure you’re okay,” you reassure her, though you’re the one who’s not okay.

“Goodnight, then. Love you,” Ellie balances her stuff as she makes her way up the stairs. “‘Night, Joel!” Then the squeak, bam! of the trapdoor hinging shut.

“‘Night, Ellie,” comes his reply.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Let’s get this over with,” you sigh pessimistically.

“Wish I hadn’t kissed you,” Joel blurts out before you finish speaking. It was obvious he hadn’t planned this any more than you had.

Subconsciously, you put a hand over your chest at the stabbing pain of his words. Though you suspected it, it was hard to hear it from those same lips.

Joel looks into the shadowy corner of the cabin. “Everything used to make you happy. Sunsets, mountains, clouds - hell, even I managed to make you laugh once or twice. But you've been so… so angry ever since - since I kissed you.”

Okay, so I didn't start the kiss. One less thing to feel guilty for.

“I wasn’t sure who moved first. Then you said it was ‘bad.’” Your voice curdles to a whisper in embarrassment.

Joel’s head jerks to you. The firelight glows on the right side of his tanned face, highlighting his patchy beard. “You thought I meant your kissin’ skill?”

You don’t reply, a lump in your throat at the memory of all you felt that day and the sting of his rejection.

What scared you most that day was not what nearly happened to you, but what had happened to him. In a way, you understood him much better now. Letting people in only got people hurt. That’s fine and dandy when you were the one getting hurt, but not when Joel had been near death because of your affection for him.

“No, you meant getting close to me.” You can’t make eye contact with him, but his hand twitches closer to yours.

“No, I didn’t,” his voice is so rough it could catch on silk. "You an' Ellie are all I got. What I meant was that I shouldn’t have finally let you know that next to three dead bodies after you’d been -” he stops himself, looking away.

Those two sentences in his gruff, passionate voice pick up the pieces of your heart.

It's your turn. “I haven’t been mad, I’ve been hurt. Confused. Taking a page out of your book and building a wall to protect myself.”

Joel frowns, “From me?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I told you I’m not a good man. Tommy and I did bad shit to survive. But... I was worse.”

“Stop fucking comparing yourself to him,” you beg. “I don’t want your brother.”

“An’ you want me?” Joel chuckles darkly. “Old enough to be your dad.”

“You said you didn’t view me like a kid.”

“No,” his brown eyes find yours, giving you the same look he gave you out on the road and before he kissed you that horrible day. “No, when I think about you, it ain’t -” he hesitates. “It's what any man would think.”

You slide closer to him, your hip bumping the rock hearth, and murmur, “I don’t want any man, either.”

Delicately, you rest a hand on his jean-covered knee. Your mind had changed. If he would keep opening himself up to you over time like this, he was worth the risk. Worth the heartache.

He's warm even through the tough material. A summer's day at the lake, and you desperately want to go swimming. Joel's large, deep eyes memorize your face, and the fire blazing beside you pales in comparison.

“I can't. What if I fail you again?” His mind jumps to how close you were to being hurt. The fear shocking his body. The sound of your cry. “I don’t know how to be close to anyone anymore. And I’m-” his voice strains, but he raises his hand to touch your face.

You close your eyes, inadvertently parting your lips as well. His thumb trails and pulls on your bottom lip.

“I’ve killed innocent people,” he confesses, staring at your inviting mouth. "I’m not who I should be."

His eyes snap back to yours as you open them, “I… had a daughter.”

Joel’s eyes are watery, but he refuses to blink and let them spill. It’s Joel’s hardest confession and he does it purposefully while his brain is distracted. He needed you to know why he wasn’t right for you. Why he was stopping this.

“So have I. And…” You pour your heart into your words, “I’m so, so sorry, Joel. Nothing I can say will ease that pain. I- I can't even imagine it." You picture Ellie. You squeeze his knee where your hand still lay, "But I’ll help you carry it all, if you’ll let me."

“Goddamn it,” he growls. “You’re not lettin’ me have any room, are you? Always have to fuckin’ argue.”

His calloused hands seize your face, crushing his lips to yours. You mewl in surprise and the hand on his leg flies to his cheek. He holds you together though you feel like falling apart. The kiss was never chaste, but then his tongue demands its way into your mouth and you reward him with a submissive moan.

Joel feels his entire body ignite. His lips drag you to a state of arousal you'd only experienced in your dreams of him. His hands clutch the sides of your face, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he licks into you. Joel's heat soaks into you, pooling below your stomach.

Not close enough for you, you throw your leg over him, straddling him.

He groans deliciously as you settle on his lap. He runs his hands up and down your back, your sides, wanting to map your body.

You grip his hair, as soft as you always knew it would be, and refuse to let the man breathe. Your kiss is as incendiary as his, and both of you gasp around the other’s lips. You rock against him, feeling the hardness in his jeans.

“Fuck,” his voice breaks along with any restraint he still had.

“Please,” you cry, plain need dripping from your voice.

“Whatever y’want, baby,” he drunkenly promises into your skin, placing openmouthed kisses down your throat. “This gotta go, though,” he grumbles. He slides both hands up your shirt, removing it with a flourish.

His undeniable desire for you goes straight to your soul: a desperate ache for him. He works your bra off and replaces it with his hardworking hands. You throw your head back in relief, but it’s still not enough.

"Yes," you spur him on.

Returning to his perfect, indecently pouty mouth, your hands fumble with his belt. The clink of the belt buckle hitting the stone hearth underneath him is the most erotic sound you've yet heard. Without leaving your lips, Joel hooks your ankles around his waist and lowers you to his sleeping bag.

He trails down your jaw. You hurriedly unbutton his flannel, wanting to feel his skin flush with yours. He lets you slide your jeans off, in fear you might remember the last time a man tried to remove them.

But once they're gone, his hands skate along your hips and hook in your underwear. In a jumble of arms and material, Joel soon covers your nakedness with his own; his hard length throbbing against your hip.

“I can feel your heat, already,” he chokes, his voice gravelly. “Now, you gonna be quiet, or do I gotta cover this mouth of yours?” Joel’s thumb ghosts over your lips.

“I’ll be quiet, Joel. Promise,” you widen your eyes in earnest.

Joel groans, "Shit, woman." He ruts against you.

You lean to kiss his neck and jawline while your hands slide down in excitement to cup him, stroke him. You make a small, satisfied noise at the feel of him in your hands. He moans above you, dropping his head onto your shoulder, and you smirk.

“Are you gonna be quiet?”

He grasps your wrist and pulls it away. “You keep doin’ that and this’ll be a short ride.”

Joel ruts against you again, this time across a spot he hadn’t before - and you jolt with the sensation. He does it again, mesmerized by the way you move. He lines up and teases you, the mere contact sending your eyes rolling. You dig your nails into his biceps.

“Joel, before- I just want t-”

He stops you with a wet, filthy kiss. The throbbing between your legs has you rubbing against him for release. He erases your thoughts. Joel tilts his forehead to yours.

“I know y’do.”

As much as he fought it, worried about it, somewhere deep inside he knows exactly how you feel. He also knows he feels the same.

Written across my fuckin’ forehead, isn’t it?

But, unlike him, you'd never taken a break from loving things. You hadn't spent years denying that you were even capable of it anymore. He could not say it. But he could show it.

Your anxiousness melts away when Joel pushes into you slowly, savoring your expression. Total arousal and concentration has his mouth gaping. You nip at his bottom lip and he chases your mouth.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. For such a short amount of foreplay, you’re gushing for him. He almost gave this up over fear of letting you in? This with a woman who loves him? God, he is a coward.

“Don’t deserve this,” it’s a throaty moan as the patch of hair between his hips scratches yours. He looks down at the place he’s joined with you.

What a fuckin’ sight, Joel feels the spark at the base of his spine and almost comes right there.

“Oh, fuck,” you thread your fingers back through Joel’s hair.

Your breasts press into his hard chest as you arch to accommodate him. It doesn’t even hurt, you’ve been so thoroughly turned on by him. You just need Joel as deep as he can be in you, in all possible ways.

He drags himself out, then slowly eases back in. You whimper with the deviance of a man being inside you. Not just any man, either, as you’d told him moments ago. But Joel. Beautiful, emotionally fragile, powerful Joel who felt loyalty toward you, who protected you, who cared for you.

He drops his mouth to bruise yours, overwhelmed by your reaction to him. His pace picks up until his fingers dig into your waist as you cling to him. You try to keep the need to be silent forefront, but it was so difficult with Joel possessing you, forcing noises to exist. He clasps a large hand over your mouth.

He closes in over you, muttering, “How bad I wanna hear those noises. Wish I could hear how much you like it.” His hand slides up over your breast, manhandling slightly.

“I thought about your hands,” you adjust his fingers to admit in a whisper. "Thought about them all over me."

“Hm, did you?” His voice is thick with lust.

Before you can answer, he wraps his hand around your throat, and, watching your eyes, squeezes the sides carefully. Only enough to remind you how strong he is, what you do to him, and how utterly safe you are with him. He kisses you again, hard, and it's full of those promises.

It’s then that the tense pleasure building in your core snaps into an electric fire in your muscles. Writhing underneath him, he feels it, too.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he slows his thrusts while your body squeezes him.

“Oh, my god, Joel,” you cry as quietly as you can. You’ll never get off him after this.

It's the first time you've sung his name, and Joel knows he is well and truly fucked. He releases his grip. You grasp his hand and kiss his knuckles slowly.

He arches your hips and shoves his balled-up jacket underneath you. Joel places his hand over your mouth and thrusts into you with barely-controlled force, grunting with primal intent.

Your cry is muffled and distorted as he pushes inside you over and over. He rubs against a spot that makes you arch into him and decides that's his favorite. His thumb rolls over your sensitive mound and, combined with his filthy words, you feel him building another wave of euphoria.

All you know is his name, repeated over and over in your mind to remind you that Joel is the one making you feel this good. That knowledge alone shoves you back to the edge.

His lips are at your ear, and his accent is the strongest you’ve ever heard it, “Knew you’d feel like this. Always throwin’ yourself at me. Darin’ me to fuck you. Wantin' me to do it,” he can’t help himself: he tenderly bites and sucks at your neck just below your ear.

“Look so fuckin’ good underneath me,” he praises, his cadence clipped with exertion.

But Joel is tireless in his pursuit. Determined to show you how you make him feel. Determined to take what was already his. Hellbent on fucking you until it hurt to walk tomorrow. Shit, maybe he’d carry you. He felt free, wild.

It’s the way he consumes your body with his hands, his lips, his tongue as he fucks you that has your mind reeling into another realm, or falls off a cliff, or wherever it is he sends you. Your body is as taut as a bowstring before it snaps the second time. The pleasure of Joel playing your body like a guitar fills your bones, your veins.

“Y’still with me?” Joel presses a kiss to your lips. You feel yourself clench a final time around nothing. He sits back.

Absently, you run a hand along your stomach and feel a substance. You raise your eyes to his, and he grins sheepishly. It’s such an intimate smile, it hurts. He takes a shirt and wipes your skin.

“Sorry 'bout the mess. Wanted to pull out in time to come on the shirt or somethin’ but…”

He takes your hand, helping you sit up, and kisses your chin, cradling your face. You kiss him with fervor, and he breaks it to finish, “But you’re too damn much.”

“I’m never just right, am I?” You joke. You count on your fingers: “Too happy, too talkative, too argumentative, and now just too much.”

He grabs and kisses your fingers, saying huskily, “’s the way you should be."

"Put your clothes on," you laugh and follow your own advice.

"Yes, ma'am," he picks up his jeans and pulls them on without buttoning them, and you think about ripping them off and going for round two. You can see the brunette curls poking out invitingly.

He puts his undershirt on, then drags your sleeping bag to his. He unzips both bags to lay flat. A bed and a blanket.

"C'mere," he relaxes on the makeshift bed, holding an arm out to you.

After everything, this was what was going to make you cry? The sight of him, hair a mess, glowing in the firelight, enveloping you into his arms?

All those years staring at sunsets. Wish I could've been staring at this.

Tears prick your eyes as you kneel with him. He tucks you under his waiting arm and lies down, fitting you against him. His breath plays with your hair, and his hand trails up and down your arm soothingly.

"I thought this would never happen," you sigh.

There’s a moment of thought before Joel says, "Ah, shit. You were seventeen when-"

"Yep."

"Oh," he realizes you're a virgin. Or had been up until twenty minutes ago. He feels uncertain. "You okay?"

You laugh, "Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?"

"Wasn't really romantic."

"You and a fireplace? That's way more romantic than I would've asked for. I'd have been happy with you and a backseat or you and a tree."

You feel Joel's chuckle roll through his chest. He viciously revels in your words. All you wanted was him.

"That wasn't what I meant, though. I meant that I thought you'd never - that you didn't feel anything like I did."

"Mm," he tenses. "Course I do."

Communication was not his strong suit, and in this moment, he does not want to fuck anything up.

"Better for me to show you."

"And I prefer that any time," you praise him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Fucking finally, holy shit."

Ellie stands above with folded arms and the smuggest smile you've ever seen.

"You guys must've been freezing down here because somehow you ended up all cuddled together and I know for sure you'd never do that willingly because you guys hate each other," she sarcastically monologs.

Your face feels like you held it above the now-dead fire.

Joel hasn't moved. Maybe he was pretending she couldn't see him.

In the night, the two of you must've rolled over, because you're curled around his back, arm slung over his side. Your nose had buried itself into the waves at the nape of his neck.

"Ellie?" You cover your eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

She just laughs.

"Now does this mean there will be more or less bickering? Because sometimes it's entertaining but sometimes, fucking hell, you guys really go at it."

Joel finally stirs, heaving a massive sigh. "You ain't gonna leave us alone, are you?"

Ellie wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Should I?"

Joel shoots her a glare.

Ellie makes eyes at you and you know she wants to barrage you with questions. You suppose it'll come sooner or later, and it's better if Joel's not there.

"Joel," you start, not sure what to suggest, but then he sits up.

"I'm headin' outside."

The door closes as he tugs his jacket on, and Ellie looks at you with poorly-contained excitement.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Shhh! Shit, Ellie, it's not a big deal." You haven't decided how much you're telling her.

Her glare could kill a horse. "Not a big deal? It's Joel. Mr. Antisocial. And you've been pining after him this whole damn time."

You shush her again, "He's going to fucking hear you."

"You think he doesn't know?" She asks incredulously; your affection for him was so obvious that she thought even Joel couldn’t have missed it.

You exhale sharply, "No, he definitely knows that now. I mean he doesn't know how long. It's embarrassing."

"So, he… knows now?"

Shit.

You physically deflate. You'll have to tell her. She'll wheedle or smart it out of you eventually.

"We… worked it out."

Ellie starts laughing.

"You FUCKED HIM." She laughs harder at the new territory. It was funny, and kind of bizarre to have a man come into the picture after all of these years and change everything.

You can’t help but laugh resignedly, "Don't be so crass. You don’t need the details.”

“I don't want the damn details.” She looks nauseated at the thought. “I can’t believe I leave you alone for one night and you pounce on the poor man.”

“I didn’t pounce on him,” you retort, even though you literally did. “We talked about some shit that went down in the woods last week and… and some other things. It was a mature conversation. I hope the bickering will be much less.” Then you add, “But I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Just don’t forget I exist.” Ellie semi-jokingly requests.

“Ellie,” you stand and hug her tight. “Don’t even say that. It’d never happen.”

“I know. I guess if anyone had to be as wonderful as me, I’m glad it’s Joel.”

“It’s not a competition. I’m also happy to know you're not mad,” you chuckle.

"Mad? It's like I got a brother. A… much older brother." She makes a face at you. "More like a dad."

"You never heard of DILFs?"

"You're gross."

Continue ->

#my fics #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou

431 notes · View notes