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munsons-hellfire · 11 months ago

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Forever Together 1 | Poly!Bat Boys

SUMMARY: You didn't think you'd find a mate, let alone three mates. Over the course of the decades it snaps for them first, then snaps for you one at a time until the worst possible thing could every happen. With truths revealed you can finally have the happiness you had always deserved.

PAIRINGS: Bat Boys x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Wing clipping (mentioned at the beginning in detail, and mentioned somewhat through out the one shot), mentions of cheating (reader's mother), mentions of abuse (reader's father and brothers), angst, fluff, no smut.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly I feel as though in some parts they might be rushed. I didn't entirely follow the books except for the ending of the third one and I did change the plot line as the bat boys are reader's mate. Feyre has a different mate, and if you'd like more to this story Nesta would be mated to someone else. I have more ideas for this storyline in particular, so let me know if you'd like to see more. Anyway I hope you enjoy.

WORD COUNT: 6.2K Words

Pain. Pain was all you could feel. Blood was what you could smell. Laughter coming from your father and brothers is all you could hear. You didn’t know how you had reached this point. You were leaving for Velaris to see the males you considered family more than your own family. You had your bags in hand and were getting ready to take off when they had attacked you. Your brothers had tackled you down to the ground and held onto you while your father took your wings and clipped them from your body.

You didn’t know you could feel so much pain like you did as they were being cut off. They had taken away the most important thing in your life, and they had all laughed while they did it. They didn’t give you a reason they just did. After taking your wings this disappeared and left you on the outskirts of their camp to die. Moans of pain left your throat as tears cascaded down your cheeks. Your back was on fire, as rain droplets hit the open wounds. Your wet hair covered your face, and your body was covered in mud with bruises forming around your wrist and on your knees.

You rested your forehead against the ground as you continued to cry at the loss of your wings. You knew that Rhys, Cass, and Az were probably worried when you hadn’t showed up. They were your best friends and had been since you had met them before Rhysand had become High Lord. You were lucky to find them when you did, they had given you a second chance to have a family that cared about you. Morrigan had easily become one of your closest friends. Amren didn’t warm up to you at first but she eventually pulled around.

Rhysand had asked that you permanently move to Velaris with them, you had agreed simply because you were afraid of losing your wings. You just wished you had left sooner when the offer left his lips. Now they were gone and you would never be able to feel the wind in your hair as you flew through the sky. You’d never be able to feel the freedom it gave you anymore. It was taken from you, and those males you had called father and brothers had taken from you. Azriel had been flying back to Velaris after a mission when Rhys had spoken to him.

“Y/N hasn’t shown up. Can you find her and bring her home?” Rhys asked the Shadowsinger.

“I’ll bring her home, Rhys.” Azriel adjusted course and headed towards Illyria, towards your camp.

When Azriel changed his course a wave of pain rushed through him and he almost crashed into a tree. He could feel your panic, and he was certain that Rhysand and Cassian could feel it too. Maybe that was why Rhys had spoken to him and asked to look for you. When he got closer he could smell your blood. He knew what had happened almost instantly. He regretted not fighting harder to bring you home weeks ago. The male collapsed to his knees beside you, his scarred hand reaching out to you and moving your wet away from your face.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” He questioned, moving to feel for a pulse.

You didn’t answer, but he sighed when he felt a pulse. It was weak but there. His shadows were just as panicked as he was. Very gently Azriel picked you up from the mud and held onto your body. Azriel called to Rhysand as he moved with his shadows. When he arrived in Velaris he took off to the House of Wind. When he landed outside the house they were all waiting. Fear had been etched into each of their faces as they all took you in. The blood had somewhat clotted but in some areas it was still gliding down your back. Mor took in your state, your face pale from the bloodloss.

“What happened?” Was all the female had managed to get out. Anger had made its way onto Rhysand and Cassian’s face as they stared at them.

“I don’t know. I think she was attacked, they clipped her wings.” Azriel explained, a sob ran through your throat at the words that left his mouth. You clung onto Azriel tighter. But it wasn’t enough, you felt yourself slipping, the voices around you growing distant. Everything disappeared, you were alone in complete darkness. But one thing remained that you held onto, a golden string that tied you to three males.

Cassian was pacing the hallway, Rhys and Azriel sat next to each other watching the male. Mor and Amren sat in the living room, waiting. Madja and a few other healers were in the room working on your back. Cassian stopped moving when your screams ripped through his ears. It pained him to not be in there with you.

“Do you know who did it?” Cassian finally asked, closing his eyes fighting the urge to run into the room to be with you.

“No.” Azriel’s jaw clenched. “Though I have a feeling her family was responsible. Something happened for them to act the way that they did. Attacking her at night when she’s set to leave knowing she’d never return.” Azriel added.

“I want the entire family brought to Hewn City and locked up until we can figure out what to do with them. I don’t care who did this, they will pay for taking away the one thing that meant the most to her.” Rhysand ordered sharing a look with his Spymaster and his General.

“I can go get them right now and lock them up until we’re ready to talk to them.” Azriel said, though he didn’t want to leave you. Hearing your screams of agony was killing him just as much as it had been Rhys and Cass. He needed something to distract him until Madja and the other healers had done what they could. Rhys gave a simple nod of his head.

Before Azriel could leave another scream escaped your lips, he allowed a shadow to leave him and stay in the room with you. The shadowsinger watched as it slipped under the door. It found a spot on your neck, helping you cool down. With that Azriel disappeared moving into the shadows to find the ones that had taken your wings for their own sick game. Though he had no doubt in his mind that your father was getting ready to place them on the mantle in your home as a prize.

“We can’t tell her about the bond, not now anyway.” Cassian mumbled as he sat down next to his High Lord.

Rhysand turned, his violet eyes searching hazel eyes. The mating bond had snapped for them all at once a few weeks ago when they were with you. They had shown up to the war camp and taken you to the cabin where Mor and Amren already were. It had been such a fun time for you and all of them. To be able to spend free time without the fear of your father looming over you. You were completely wasted alongside Mor, the two of you dancing and singing not a car in the world. And as the three males stared up at you with your arms wrapped around Mor laughter falling from your lips that golden string connected the three males to you and to each other.

The confusion was clear as day when it happened, and you were completely oblivious to it. In the coming days after discovering the bond the three males had managed to work through what they felt, they were better now because of it. But they wanted you to know, they didn’t want to force the bond, but keeping it from you would only anger you so they agreed to tell you when you had come home to them. Rhysand reached out for Cassian’s hand and held it tightly in his.

“We’ll tell her after she gets through this. She’s going to need all of us, Mor and Amren included.” Cassian gave a nod of his head. The affection that each male received from each other since the bond had snapped was still very new, however it was a welcome surprise. Finally the doors opened and Madja stepped out. Her eyes landed on the High Lord and the General.

“How is she?” Cassian was the first to ask the question, needing to break the silence both between them and in his mind.

“She’ll pull through. Though she’ll be in pain for a few days, it’s best for her to rest while the scars heal. She’s also asking for you two and the spymaster.” Madja explained, looking between the two males.

“Az, get back here now.” Rhysand’s words were firm but an order. Luckily he had your parents and brothers locked in cells in Hewn City. They would most likely be waiting a few days in the cells.

“I’m on my way.” Was all he said.

Rhysand watched Madja and the other healers disappear, leaving them in the hallway. He could hear Madja talking to Mor and Amren, most likely explaining what she had explained to Rhysand and Cassian. The two males finally walked in, the door closed behind them. You were in the center of the bed, laying on your stomach. Your eyes were closed, sweat was falling down your forehead. Bandages covered your back where your wings had once been. They moved closer to the bed but stopped.

Azriel appeared in the corner of the room, his shadows surrounding him, talking to him, “safe”. They’d said, and you were and you would be from now on. Finally you opened your eyes and stared at the three males that stood before you. Sorrow rested in their eyes as they continued to stare at you. They could feel your pain through the bond, feel how much it was killing you to not feel them on your back anymore. These next few months were going to be hell but you were thankful to have these three males by your side.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

Rhysand stood in a dark room with Cassian and Azriel behind him. The High Lord was staring down at your father. He had talked to your mother and brothers but none of them had said an ounce of anything. A few days after you had gotten enough sleep and had healed somewhat Rhys had brought up the topic of what to do with your family. You had given the decision to the male considering you could never look at any of them again. So here they were trying to get to the bottom of why your wings had been completely clipped from your body.

“Why did you do it?” Rhys’ voice was powerful as the question swam around the dark room.

The male glared at Rhysand, then his eyes fell onto Cassian and Azriel. Finally after hours of asking the same question the male snapped and shared his true intentions behind your wing clipping.

“Because she is a bastard child, never should she have been born. But who was I to deny my wife another babe? I should’ve seen it though. She looks nothing like me.” His voice was cold and his eyes were dark. This information that he had discovered was something the three males needed to know without realizing it.

“What are you talking about?” Cassian urged, taking a step forward but still holding his ground behind Rhysand.

“The female that you consider a friend, she isn’t my daughter. She belongs to that High Lord in the Day Court. According to my wife she had gotten pregnant when she went to visit some friends in the Day Court.” The male paused clenching his fist as he thought about it. “I should’ve picked up on it sooner.”

Azriel and Cassian had shocked expressions on their faces as the words ran through their pointed ears. They quickly put on a neutral mask to hide the shock.

“You’re saying that Y/N is the princess of Helion?” Rhysand asked, trying not to let his voice falter.

“Unfortunately.”

“Why did you take her wings from her?” Azriel asked.

“She didn’t deserve those wings. She didn’t deserve to have any trace of those wings. That female got what was coming to her. I only wished I had ended her life that night instead of taking her wings from her.” He seethed, staring at the males.

Rhysand leaned forward and lifted his hand to the male’s head and slammed it into the table, breaking his nose. “You took away the only thing that meant everything to her you damned bastard.” Cassian and Azriel were quick to pull their High Lord from the male and out of the room. When they were no longer in the room the two males let go of Rhysand. They stared at him intently as his emotions flew down the bridge between them.

“What are we going to do with them?” Cassian was the first to break the silence between them.

“They’ll stay locked up. And we’re telling Y/N everything. She deserves to know the truth about her father, about who he actually is. But not today. Let her rest today. We’ll tell her in a few days.” Cassian and Azriel gave a nod to Rhysand.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

They had done just that, allowing you to take in the new information of who your real father was. You had taken the news better than they thought you would. Somewhere deep down you had always known that the male that raised you wasn’t your father. And now there was a chance for you to have a relationship with your biological father. In the days since you had started your recovery they had decided to keep the mating bond from you just until you had healed back to full strength.

It would see that fate would have other plans for the four of you. A few days after your recovery had started Rhysand had left for a party. He had received an invite from Amarantha herself. You had tried to get Rhys to stay with you and the others, you needed him more than ever (though you still weren’t sure why). But his duty as High Lord rose above, he promised you, Cassian, and Azriel that he’d be back before they knew it. He made it clear to Cassian and Azriel that they’d discuss the mating bond with you when he got back as he no longer could keep it hidden and honestly neither could they.

When Rhys had been locked up Under the Mountain and you all had been locked in, Velaris, not able to leave. Things changed. The bond had snapped into place for you with only one of them. It had snapped one day when you were out on the roof training with Cassian, he had knocked you down and held you down to the mats staring into your eyes. The wind had been knocked right out of you when you looked back up at the General. That was when it all came out to you, the truth. Azriel stood near the two of you.

“How long?” You asked, still staring at Cassian.

“We’ve known since the Cabin. It snapped for the three of us at the same time when you were dancing with Mor in the living room by the fire.” Cassian explained as he moved back from you allowing you room to breathe and process the information.

“You’ve all known I was your mate since before my wings were taken and you didn’t say anything?” You looked between Cassian and Azriel, you still only felt the bond between you and Cassian but it was strong. They both gave a small nod.

“We were going to tell you that night, the night I found you in the rain bleeding, crying out at the loss of your wings. But you were so broken, and having found out that Helion was your father we couldn’t tell you. We all felt that it was too much stress to have you under and we didn’t want to put you under the pressure of the mating bond. Rhys said we would tell you when he came home from the party but now who knows what’ll happen.” Azriel said.

You could see the pain in both of their eyes and while you were missing Rhys more than anything right now. You could see just how much they missed Rhys because they had felt the bond snap for them, they were connected to each other and it was only now that one of them had snapped for you. It was just Cassian and not Azriel and Rhysand. Your heart ached just thinking about it. About when the bond would snap for you. But right now you need time to clear your head.

“I need time to process this.” You breathed out, dropping your head into your hands. “I only felt the bond between Cass and I snap.” You paused looking up at Az. “I don’t doubt that all three of you are my mates, that we are mates for each other. I will admit that the Cauldron had blessed us with this mating bond. But I know that you and Rhys will snap for me when the time is right. But for now I need time to process.”

“You will have it, we’ll give you as much time as you need.” Cassian exhaled.

“We’ll wait however long it takes.” Azriel added.

Later that day you had found yourself in the kitchen making dinner for everyone. Mor and Amren were in the living room with Cassian and Azriel. You had found that cooking had helped you find some semblance of peace. It cleared your mind and allowed you to think properly. What you hadn’t expected was to feel the return of something you had missed for so long. You stopped what you were doing walking into the living room and staring towards the door.

Mor noticed you first, she stood from the couch and walked over to you. She grasped a hold of your hand as tears started to fall from your face. Rhysand stood there near the front door, a male behind him. Rhys’ eyes were panicked as he looked for each mate. Mor finally turned to see what you had been looking at.

“Rhys.” You breathed out. Cassian and Azriel had already been staring at their mate. You felt the tug of the bond through Cassian, his happiness flowing through it. You left Mor’s side and ran to him, colliding into his body and hugging him tightly. He hesitated hugging you back, something you, Cassian and Azriel had picked up on. But then your thoughts washed away when he hugged you back. Then you took in the male that stood behind Rhys, when you pulled away from him he noticed the confused look on his face.

“This is Ryder, he is my friend. Feyre is his mate, the one who saved all of us. He was kicked out of his court because he attended the party with his High Lord.” Rhysand started to explain.

“It was more like I went against the wishes of Beron. I couldn’t stand the male anymore.” He said, looking at the ones that stared at him.

“Welcome, I was just finishing setting dinner out, please join us.” You said softly. Rhys found his heart skipping a beat at your kindness towards someone you had just met. You walked away from them, Mor followed behind to help bring the food out. When you disappeared, and Ryder walked with Amren over to the table, Rhysand's eyes found Cassian and Azriel staring at him.

“We have a lot to discuss but not tonight.” Rhysand said, the two gave a nod of understanding.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

In the months since Rhys had been freed a war had been looming over everyone’s heads. Feyre Archeron had after a few months had officially joined the Night Court leaving Tamlin behind. Things were changing and you could feel it. But then it happened, you were on the ground near Rhysand tears spilling out of your eyes. Cassian and Azriel were both hurt and the Feyre’s sister’s had been forced into the Cauldron.

But you couldn’t focus on anything else, not when the bond for you and Azriel had finally snapped into place. You were now tied to Cassian and Azriel, but now you might lose both of them. A sob escaped your lips. You looked up as the Hybern king walked towards you. He pushed Rhysand out of the way and grabbed a hold of your chin lifting it towards his face.

“What a surprise? Mated to three males, but only two have snapped into place. Two of whom might die.” His words ran around the room and shock fell onto some faces.

“You don’t know anything, bastard.” You spat, choosing at that moment to put yourself together. This had been why Rhys had made you High Lady. He knew that you had known about the mating bond and while you had fully accepted it you had still been waiting for it to snap between you and Azriel and you and Rhysand. The High Lord knew you would make a wonderful High Lady as his equal.

“Don’t I?” He taunted. “Your wings were taken from you because your father discovered that you were the princess of the High Lord over in Day Court. You're mated to three males. You little shining star are easy to read. Your face gives away everything, and so does your father.” Your heart stopped beating as you looked at the male that still held onto your chin.

“What are you talking about?” The confusion was evident in your voice.

“Well someone let go of your brothers and parents when Rhysand was trapped in the Mountain. And let's just say they joined my army. Though I can’t say the same for your mother. She put up a fight but it was easy for my niece and nephew to squash her brain like it was nothing. She was given a worthless death.”

“No.” Was all you could manage to say. You could feel something running through your body but nothing could escape. You just kneeled there not believing that your mother had been taken from this world. The Hybern King had been hoping that some of your power from your true father might escape at the mention of your mothers death but nothing happened.

“I guess your mother wasn’t important. Maybe I should kill the shadowsinger. Or how about the general since he was the first to snap for you. Maybe he’d be the one to bring forth your power.”

You moved your hand behind your back as you lifted your face glaring at the male before you. Rhysand, Feyre and Ryder watched and pulled a small dagger out of hiding. Slowly you stood from the floor to better match up to him.

“You will not lay a hand on any of my mates because if you do, I will make sure you die a slow and painful death.” As those words left your mouth you pulled your hand back and managed to throw the blade into the male’s chest. He roared back in pain and it had been enough of a scene for everyone to make it out. Rhysand wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you with him.

Your eyes found Feyre and she gave a nod to you. This plan had been exactly what the three of you had discussed. Minus the injuries to Cassian and Azriel. Upon winnowing back to Velaris you collapsed to the ground finally breaking at the loss of your mother. You couldn’t do it in front of them, you know they were in the shadows watching. And you couldn’t give them that satisfaction. Rhys wrapped himself around you and held tightly as you sobbed into his chest.

“She’s gone.” She whispered, another sob leaving your mouth.

Rhys didn’t say anything, he just held onto you while the others made themselves useful making sure Madja was helping Cassian and Azriel. You pulled back and looked into Rhys’ violet eyes.

“I know the war is coming. I can’t lose any of you, I won’t allow it to happen.” Your lower lip quivered.

“Nothing will happen.” But you and Rhys knew that it was inevitable. That someone would die.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

You stood next to your father, Helion. He had come to see you before the battle started. As he looked at you, he could see the glimpse of your mother on your face.

“Did you love her?” You asked, staring into his golden eyes.

“Your mother was one of my many lovers when she’d come to visit my Court. But she held a special place in my heart. And even though she’s no longer here with us there’s a piece of her in you.”

Helion paused as you processed his words. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel stood not far off from you and Helion. They could hear the conversation between you two.

“When this is over I’d like to get to know my daughter more. Only if you are okay with that, my little sunshine.” A smile graced your lips as you stared at the make you’d be happy to call your father.

“I’d be happy to do that. I’d like to get to know my real father. I’d like to know what I could’ve had with you in your Court.”

“As my first born you would be High Lady when I step down.”

“No.” The word was stern as it came out of your mouth. You couldn’t take that duty over not only because you were already High Lady of the Night Court, but because you knew Helion had a son as well. You had been told by Feyre and Ryder that Lucien was in fact the prince of the Day Court, that meant that you had a half brother. “I am already High Lady and I do not plan to step down from that position for a long time.”

“Very well.” Helion looked back at the three males that were -almost- your mates. “Do they treat you well?”

You turned to follow his gaze, the males looked away pretending to do something, to act like they weren’t listening in on your conversation when you knew very well that they were. You released a laugh, it had caught their pointed ears and the three males gazed back over to you. The love was ever so clear in each of their eyes, and while the bond might not have snapped for you with Rhys yet; but you knew one thing for certain. You were going to accept the bond with all three of them. You turned back to Helion as he placed his amber eyes on you.

“Even before I knew that we were mates I knew that I had loved each of them for different reasons. And to know that we are mates had heightened that love. I’d go out onto that battlefield and die for them if it meant a better tomorrow and I knew that they’d do the same for me. I may have lost my wings but one way or another they saved me in every way they could.”

“That’s wonderful news my little sunshine. I may not have been part of your life, I wish I could’ve been because I would’ve taken you and your mother away before they ever took your wings from you.”

“I wouldn’t change any of the things that have happened to me. I may not have liked them at the time it happened and what happened with my wings, it was painful to go through but I pulled through. I wish Rhys had been there for my recovery but he was going through worse at the time and so were you. I have learned to move through my trauma and it is because of my mates that I have healed.”

The three males behind you had the biggest smiles on their lips as you explained all of this to your father. “Maybe when you come over to the Day Court to visit we can figure out if you have my shape-shifting ability, if you do then you might be able to shift Illyrian wings onto your back once more and fly through the sky again.”

Your heart beat fast against your chest, it felt like it was going to break through at the mention of it. Cassian stepped forward, joining in on the conversation.

“She could do that?” He asked, his hazel eyes switching to Helion then back to you.

“It’s possible. If Feyre has the ability to shift Illyrian wings on her back then I have no doubt that Y/N could too.” Your knees were going to buckle, you could feel it so you made quick movement and pulled your father into a hug. The first of many for sure. He was shocked at first but eventually he hugged you back. “Now I must go ready my army. I’ll see you out there.”

You watched silently as your father winnowed away, you turned towards the three males. They came over to you gathering around in a circle. You grabbed a hold of Rhys hand, and Cassian’s hand. Azriel stood across from you holding onto Cassian’s and Rhys as well. You looked at each of them taking in this moment before your friends would join.

“I love you all, and I need you to know that before this battle. If one of us doesn’t make it…” You closed your eyes trying to hold back your tears. “I couldn’t go onto that battlefield not admitting to you all that I love you. Regardless of the mating bond not yet snapping for me and Rhys, I love you.”

“We love you too, darling Y/N.” Rhys said, squeezing your hand tightly. You smiled at him as the others joined in the circle and more words were spoken.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

The battle had raged on, you were separated from Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Blood, mud, and grim covered your body and you knew you’d need a bath after this was over. The bond was over the place causing you to panic. You could feel strings tying you to three males, tying you to Azriel, Cassian, and finally Rhysand. A little laugh left your mouth as you threw your sword into one of the Hybern men.

But it didn’t last, something was wrong you could feel it. You knew Cassian had been injured, Rhys had told you via thoughts. But this was Rhys, you could feel something wrong. Especially when his voice came in through your mind and sure enough Cassian and Azriel as well, he was using the bond between the four of you.

“I love you all.” He whispered in your minds. “I love you, more than anything.”

Helion was suddenly next to you, arms wrapping around you he winnowed to where Rhys had been with Feyre. You let go of your father running over to your mate sliding down on your knees.

“He offered his power to allow me to repair the Cauldron.” Feyre’s voice was running through your ears but you couldn’t hear it because you couldn’t feel Rhys, seconds later Az and Cass were there. Tears in their eyes as they looked down at their dead mate.

“No. No. No. Rhys, come back to me, come back to us. Please, we can’t lose you.” You cried out pulling the male into your body. You couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t feel him through the bond, couldn't feel a heartbeat. He was gone, and this was the worst feeling in the world for you, for Azriel, and for Cassian. The two were on their knees watching you cry over Rhys. Tarquin and Helion kneeled down next to you.

“He’s gone, Y/N.” Helion said first, a sob followed after the words left his mouth. You looked at the two High Lord’s as they stared at you.

“No.” You said, shaking your head, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Tarquin spoke.

You looked back at Rhysand as those words broke you. You screamed at the top of your lungs, as loud as you could. Power flowed through your body, it lit up covering every inch of you as you screamed for the loss of a mate. Tarquin and Helion backed away from you, the power pushed out of your body and turned into an orb shooting to the sky before bursting into a firework. You rested your forehead on his. Finally Azriel moved over to you, as did Cassian despite his injury. The two tried to pull you from Rhysand so they could hold onto you but you refused.

“Bring him back.” You shouted, looking at the lords around you. This was not ending, this was not meant to be the ending he got. Not when you had finally felt the bond between you and Rhysand. Not when the four of you could finally be happy together after so long. The High Lords didn’t say anything, you could only feel their gazes on you. “Bring him back. You did it for Feyre, you can do it for him.”

“She was human.” Helion said, looking down at you. He could see the heartbreak over your entire face. Over your mates faces as well. “It is not the same─”

“I don’t care. Do it. I can’t lose him, I won’t. Please, father.” You looked up at him, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. Helion felt his heart squeeze tightly at the new title. It had been something he never imagined could be possible until this moment.

Your eyes found Feyre, you didn’t need to say anything to understand what she would do to help you, Cassian and Azriel get your mate back. Tarquin stepped forward, eyes on you.

“For what he gave,” Tarquin whispered. “Today and for many years before.” You watched as a seed of light appeared in Tarquin’s palm. More tears escaped from your eyes rolling down your cheeks as you watched the light fall down into Rhys’ throat vanishing into his skin. One by one the High Lords started to offer up a seed of light repeating what Tarquin had done. You heard Feyre talking but were trying to feel out the bond for Rhys to listen in.

When Tamlin came up she begged for you, the two of you had become best of friends over the last few months and while she couldn’t understand the loss of a mate because Ryder was right next to her he understood the pain of almost losing a mate. Feyre couldn’t let you go through that pain. You glanced at Tamlin as he dropped the seed of light into Rhys’ mouth.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Take care of her.” Tamlin said, as he looked back at Feyre while Ryder held onto her.

“I will.” You placed your head on his chest, closing your eyes, waiting. Cassian and Azriel kept their eyes trained on Rhysand also waiting. In fact everyone had been waiting. But you could feel it, the thud of the bond growing brighter and brighter for the four of you. You glanced at Az and Cass to see the same reaction on their faces. Then you felt it, the graze of his hand on your back. A soft touch and something you never wanted to let go of.

Then Rhys groaned, “If we’re all here, either things went very, very wrong or very right.” Cassian released a broken laugh, he and Azriel placed a hand on top of your hand that was connected to Rhys’. You didn’t let Rhys go, nor did you open your eyes to look at him. You breathed him in as you felt his heart beat against his chest, against your ear. The tears still streamed down your face, but were falling onto his leathers. “You lot will be pleased to know… My power remains my own. No thieving here.”

“You do know how to make an entrance,” Helion started. “Or should I say exit.” That earned a glare from you, your eyes had opened and you had looked up at your father.

“You’re horrible.” Viviane snapped. “That’s not even remotely funny.”

“I meant no harm by it.” Helion paused and became serious as he looked down at the three males that would soon become his son-in-laws once they were mated to his daughter. “Do not hurt her like that again. And that goes for you Shadowsinger, and you General.” The three males gave a nod to your father. Finally Rhysand called your name, for the first time since he had come back you looked at him.

“I’m here, my loves.” He said as he looked at the three of you. His violet eyes lingered on you.

“Good, I don’t want to see what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come back.” Cassian whispered.

“So, does this mean we can finally accept the mating bond?” Rhys asked, a smirk on his lips as he continued to switch at who he was looking at. You looked at Azriel who gave a nod, then at Cassian who did the same. Finally you looked back at Rhys.

“If it means we get forever together then I can’t wait to accept the mating bond. I don’t wish to live in a world where none of you exist. And I don’t wish to live another day without being able to call you mine forever.” You smiled at them, the smile never leaving your lips even as you returned back home.

Part 2

#reader insert #x reader #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #rhysand x cassian #rhysand x azriel #a court of thorns and roses #helion acotar #bat boys x reader #acotar x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll Take the Night Shift

Pairing: Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Before you knew it, John was gone - taken from right under your nose and leaving you no choice but to retreat without him. But you would do anything to get him back, even go into the lion’s den itself.

Word Count: 15.2k

Warnings: Torture, blood & gore, V suggestive & some spicy bits, vulgar language, angst, found family tropes, eventual fluff, and comfort, injured Price would be the sweetest person idc, so much plot, briefly edited

A/N: The flashbacks are spicy because I said so. (Soap request being written after this). Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You try to remember how you felt the first time they told you. Your combat vest was still on, that night vision rig still connected to your head and weighing about as much as John did when he rolled on top of you in the middle of the night. At your front rested the M13, its black and sleek metal bumping against your chest with every teetering step.

Black, on black, on black. Except for one item, hidden, kept close to heart, and even closer to mind at all hours. You were always aware of it, the metallic press that was ingrained into your body just as the caress of John’s fingers was, burning over your pulsing epidermis as it traveled.

Around your neck, your wedding ring sat heavily on its chain – gold more bright than the sun and kept safe and warm against the flesh of your breast under the numerous padded layers. Your face was bathed in sweat, lungs aflame with blood dripping from a knife puncture on your right thigh. Although the limb is bathed in crimson, the dark fabric of your pants hid most of it. But it couldn’t hide the red footprints in the dirt.

It was a Black Op in Finland – a target stashed away in a mansion that was clawing for breath in this dense forest with more viridian-colored trees than any you had seen before. Green seemed to breed in the small spaces, between rocks, up crackling bark; crunching under your black boots as you came to a shattering halt. Moss and tiny plants get crushed under your fierce steps.

If it was any other circumstance, you would have loved to drag your husband here for a vacation.

You had felt fear when they told you. Cold. Chest-tightening. Skin tingling as your limping body fought to focus on anything but the pain that was spiking in your leg, but that was simple when the words flew from Gaz’s lips with panic. Simon had stopped behind you as well, the two men dressed just as you were and holding their breath for your reaction. They knew it wouldn’t be good.

“The Captain isn’t responding. Soap can’t bloody find him.” The chill of the night was nothing compared to the dread that flooded your veins, eyes snapping forward blankly at flashing shadows as your panting breath was all at once sucked back down.

What?! Is all you can numbly think.

A brief stuttering inhalation ensues, your brain screaming as if banshees wail and smash against the bone of your skull with sharp teeth and blunt nails; tearing to try and get out. But you were not born to break at such a fickle emotion as fear in your bloodstream, or the adrenaline making your eyes vibrate. You were taught to act.

You’re turning on your heels and hiking back to the mansion without a word or hesitation, the world around you speeding by. In a single instant, the organ in your head promptly goes silent in a fell swoop of horrified realization. Everyone left in that mansion would be dead if you got your hands on them – ripped to tiny little pieces until that which was yours was returned unharmed and conscious into your arms.

You hold the M13 tight around the stock, jimmying it into your shaking grip.

“Whoa!” Gaz rushes to get ahead of your warpath – which didn’t take much as your wound was throbbing; making your head pound something awful.

It doesn't matter what I feel…Where is my John?

Dark hands grasp your shoulders tightly, shaking you as your lips turn into a snarl.

“Out of my way, Garrick,” You growl, face suddenly twisting into an image of pure animalistic rage, “I’m going to Soap’s position.”

Attempting to jerk out of the man’s hold, your skin crawls at the thought of John. He always answered the comms – always stayed within eyesight of his partner when placed with another individual. Your husband did not leave men behind. He would never leave Soap behind.

And that meant he was either dead or captured.

Your mind jumps to violent imagery. Your Captain, riddled with bullets and bleeding as he writhes in pain; left to die like a feral dog as he snaps at everything that moves. Or worse, taken and stashed away, far from you, and tortured for information. John would never break – they’d have to kill him anyway.

There was no version of this story that involved him living if you did nothing.

“Johnny isn’t at the mansion,” Ghost comments, popping up in the side of your vision as you have a stare-off with Gaz and releases the radio attached to his vest, “He was under heavy fire – had to pull back. Should be closin’ in on our position soon.”

“I’m still going back!” Growling, you snap your arms back and shoulder past Gaz, “You’re idiots if you think I’m leaving John by himself in fucking Finland surrounded by hostiles.”

But what if he’s already dead and I don’t know it? Can I handle that?

You grunt under your breath, trying to stop the sting of your eyes.

“Love,” The younger man pleads, Kyle’s dark eyes worryingly going from your thigh to your face, “You’ve got to be bloody joking with us. If you go back to that place you’re as good as dead. We have to pull back to the Evac Point. There are too many guns – we’re outnumbered.”

When you had joined Task Force 141 you had never expected to marry the older Captain of this rag-tag bunch. It had been surprising enough that you had been spotted by the brown-haired Brit at all, only seeing him once when he had come to teach a class of rookies on Counter-Terrorism. Naturally, the two of you had struck up a conversation – or, rather, you had forced him to speak to you. But how could you not? The man was about as handsome as they came. The gruff and gravel tone that rumbled his chest, his large build reminiscent of a brown bear, and how the muscles under his shirt had rippled when you snuck up on him. Physically, he was everything you wanted, and the same went for attitude once you got to know him.

And, hell, how could you look at someone like John Price and not get entranced by his eyes? Storm gray and raging waters; you swore you could see an entire world hidden in the flecks of silver as if he was carved from stone and his soul was pure electricity. But despite all of it, his serious face had seemed warm under that beard of his and that bucket hat on his head wasn’t helping. He seemed kind enough, and that had piqued your interest as you were constantly being surrounded by less-than-respectful men in the barracks.

In fact, your first sentence to him was, “How many times have you nearly lost that hat of yours mid-Op, Sir?”

You had snuck up while the rookies were working through a practice course down below the loft, where the two of you currently were. John’s head had snapped to the side, his constantly narrowed eyes widening a fraction. If you had to guess, he didn’t get snuck up on often.

But he had never met you before.

His arms were attached to the collar of his vest, and you saw the fingers tighten as his shoulder-width stance tensed below him. The shouts and calls of the people below blurred as you tilted your head, blinking innocently up at him, watching his lips move with heated thoughts.

You quite liked him looking surprised.

“Ma’am,” He utters in greeting, before letting out a deep sigh that makes you huff a laugh in turn. He seemed tired – stressed, “Very funny. Don’t suppose you’re part of the others down there, then, are you?”

“Unfortunately, no, Sir,” Your gaze filters to the flailing limbs and you watch with creasing eyebrows at the chaos, amusement deep in your blood, “I mean…they look like they’re having fun, at least.”

“Yeah, that’s a bloody exaggeration, that is,” His wrinkled forehead had creased, following the horrific sight as well, “Laswell told me that this group was promising.”

Your laugh makes his head fully turn back to you, blinking down and fighting the flick of his eyebrow in confusion.

“Oh, God, she told you that?!” Shaking your head you shifted your body to face him and stifled your chuckles. You say your name and utter out, “If you want someone who’s not going to sugarcoat things for her amusement, Captain Price, you come straight to me. Squad 5 is the one you want for Counter-Terrorism courses; certainly not 3. That’s a good way to get shot in the ass by your own guys.”

He stared at you for a long minute before his eyes flickered down to your hand; he grunted and grasped it in his own.

You were correct – he was warm. Firm. The ingrained lines of his palms splayed over yours, and the flesh of your lips softened at the delicate way he was holding you. Like you were a prized weapon.

And you would have it no other way.

“Just Price is fine, Ma’am. Kate mentioned you in her call…You were in Romania in ‘04, Yeah? Quite the job to do by yourself…You ever think on joinin’ a team?”

Three months later Laswell was giving you a call saying you were getting a promotion and the rest was subtle glances that evolved into stolen touches in dark corners when no one was looking. It had been scary how instant the feelings were realized…you trusted John with your life, just as he did with you. That was the first feeling after lust and the one far before love – protectiveness for each other on the same level as wolves in a pack.

You can’t leave him behind.

“He’s the Captain–” Your lips begin to hiss out, eyes narrowed at the ground as you struggle along. You were weaker than you should have been – blood loss leaving you nearly on the ground after the retreat, “He’s my husband!”

Rage was easier than panic. Perhaps that was why John called you Lion for a callsign.

“...And you’re going to get him killed.” The remark makes you freeze. Ghost doesn’t move from behind you as the echo of his words bounces off the trees, but you feel his presence just the same as Gaz clears his throat awkwardly, “You go back, Aarre Virtanen will put a bloody bullet in ‘em. Not a chance he doesn’t.”

Aarre Virtanen. The target that had escaped the Force’s grasp like the weasel he is. Your eyes alight with rage, and cities burn in your iris.

“You’re just about the most impulsive person I’ve ever met, Love,” John mutters into your hair, running his fingertips over the hospital gown as he lays in the bed with you. Your eyes are closed, feeling your head rise and fall with the steady breathing in the Captain's chest – damn him, the way he touched you was hypnotic; putting you to sleep where the pain meds failed.

“Hm,” You groan, digging your head deeper into his peck and feeling him chuckle velvety.

“I need to teach you how to think plans through before you commit, Yeah? Else you’re going to keep getting hurt…and we can’t have that, eh, can we Sweetheart?”

“...If you’re gonna hold me like this when I get shot, I’ll make sure to take more bullets for you from now until the end of time.”

A puff of breath and a brush of coarse beard hairs over your scalp.

“You’re hopeless, you are. What am I supposed to do with you…?”

“Probably kiss me, Sir, but I’m not picky. You can fuck me too while you’re at it.”

A shuttering of leaves rips everyone out of their arguing, and in an instant three guns are held leveled at a dense bush, shaking in the moonlight. Every moment spent with John was flashing over your eyes like you were dying. Why was your breath getting strained? Why was your grip shaking?

“Friendly! Don’t go poppin’ off shots, it’s jus’ me!” Your stance lessens at the familiar Scottish drawl, air falling from your nose in a terse sigh.

Soap’s body pops out a second later, and you’re right next to him with a heavy heart, gripping him by the arm and digging. It was hard, holding yourself together with string and fraying cloth, but you had to. You can’t break…not now. The man's vision is locked on your face, and you don’t like the thinness of his lips as his expression is layered with guilt.

It mirrors against the desperation in yours, leaking into the tone coating your sentence like poison.

“Little Lady, I–”

“Where is my husband, Johnny?” Your face contorts, pulling back. He was supposed to be here, why wasn't he here? He took MacTavish with him because he needed an expert to detonate a bomb in the lower mansion’s tunnel structure. He said he’d be back soon…Where is he? “Johnny, please, he can’t…” Begging has never been implemented in your life. Never.

But for John, you’d do anything.

The man in question flinches back, the dried blood over his face catching your gaze in the dim light as you stop dead; your eyes slashed the distance between Soap’s visage and the gore over his cheeks. Up his arms. On his hands. Staining his chest like fucking finger-paint. Before you know it you’re backing up, eyelids fluttering like hummingbird wings and jumping from place to place as all you can see is red. Your hands are slippery, and you hold them limply ahead of you.

No, no, no. No, it can’t be.

“Holy shit, Soap,” Gaz whispers, voice horrified, and you feel his hand on your back trying to steady you, “Is that…”

Ghost’s dead eyes stay locked on the scene, narrowing behind his mask. The Scot’s head flows to the blood, quickly inhaling as his nose scrunches. His lips part in horror as he tries to calm you down, backing up a step.

But you can’t stop seeing red.

“Hen, now don’t do that – it’s not…I…He,” He stumbles over his words, swallowing thickly as you gape. Soap growls, splaying his hands, “Steamn’ Bloody Jesus! The explosive went off prematurely, fucken’ bastard of a device – whoever made it should get his neck rung – an’ the…the tunnel collapsed with us in it,” You just stare, and you wonder if your heart can hurt any more than it already is. At your side, Gaz blows out a slow breath, and over your back, you feel his grip tighten, “I tried to get him out of the rubble, Hen. But,” He stops, and one of his hands smacks against the top of his helmet, “Virtanen’s men got there first. God,” Johnny gasps your name, “I’m so sorry.”

But all you do is stare.

“Love,” Garrick lightly says, his breath on the side of your face, “Love, we have to move.”

But Gaz, You want to say; scream, as your stained fingers twitch when you level them with a heavy glare, Gaz I can’t leave him here

“He’s not dead.”

Ghost grunts, fixing the position of his gun over his chest; resting on hand on the end and looking off into the trees, “They’d keep ‘em alive. Try to get answers – who he is, who sent him…” The man trails.

Your heart fractures your ribs, ears ring like cicadas under your skin.

He’s not dead, You have to tell yourself so you don’t break down, looking at everyone around with veiled shock, He’s not dead.

The only reason the four of you were still standing around was that, in the absence of John’s leadership, you took point. It hit you suddenly, then, in that instant where the storm that was going on inside of your head was silenced. These men were under your wing – they needed you to take up the mantle; you needed to trust that John was alright. If only to keep the whole of the 141 safe and alive.

Gaz had shrapnel in his back; Soap looked like he was about to either turn around and go on a rampage or slump over with his head in his hands. And Ghost well…he was Ghost, but even so, his clothes were layered with blood and dirt. Not to mention yourself – your thigh has since gone numb.

…And we can’t stay here.

With your heart falling into a deep hole, you school your expression.

Don’t think about him. Don’t do it.

Your job has never been more difficult than at that moment.

“Evac Point is a ten-minute jog. L-Laswell’s expecting us.” The voice that comes out of your mouth isn’t yours, the tone is off and the structure is shaky at best and broken at worst. There was nothing more you could do, even if you knew you could drag your way back to the mansion and start a fight.

Gaz was right, you would die if you went back. And you can’t get John home safe if you were dead.

The team needs you to lead them just as your husband would.

So, avoiding all eye contact and the wide looks, you slip out of Kyle’s hold, feeling your leg sizzle with agony as you put weight on it. Garrick mutters your name, and Soap clears his stuffed throat; coughing into the night. Ghost is the one who loops his arm under your shoulders when he strides up behind you, and you flinch at the contact before closing your eyes and feeling bitter tears drip down your cheeks.

“We’ll get ‘em back, Lion,” The man glances down at you, skeletal face glowing bone white, “I give you my word.” But you don’t answer, just grimace and will away the feelings in your heart and the vomit in the back of your throat.

This is what John would want you to do, you know that – perhaps that was the only reason you were willing to leave and reevaluate at all – but, somehow, it still felt wrong.

Akin to betrayal.

The ring around your neck suddenly weighed more than the numb flesh of your leg as tears smack the moss mutely.

—

Laswell is sitting in the meeting room as a nurse wraps your thigh tightly. The sutures underneath pull at your flesh; making it stretch at a touch of a finger as you stand upright. The others had pleaded with you to sit down, but nothing would sway you. Not even the needle that had been going through your skin when you refused pain medication. Being on your feet made you feel better – like you were about to do something which would stop the thinness of your breath and the jump of your heart. Your weight was mostly on your uninjured limb anyhow, shifting as the affected pant’s leg was cut lengthwise and shoved aside as the gauze slowly wrapped around and around.

“When are we going after him,” You ask Kate, rubbing the sleep from your eyes but only succeeding in spreading dirt and blood all over your sockets, “I’ll be ready in five if you need me to be. All of us will.”

“Damn right,” Kyle nods, “Just give the order.”

The blonde sighs, and the other men in the room move on their feet in unease. No one was content sitting still – one of their own was missing. Soap in particular was taking it badly; almost as broken up as you about it.

“We can’t do anything,” Your rampaging heart clenches. You had been worried about that, “This mission was Black,” Laswell’s chair squeaks as she rises, a tablet in her hands and a scowl on her face, “Legally speaking, no one was ever in Finland in the first place. A blown power box was the cause of the explosion.”

“Kate–” Gaz growls, but Soap cuts him off.

“This is clatty, Laswell!” He crosses his arms, the mohawk on his head pressed down from being in a helmet for so long making him look unhinged. When the helicopter had dropped the Force off at base, a meeting had immediately been called; that was over three hours ago, and still, nothing had been done. It was precious time, “Send out drones, recon forces, anything. Hell, send us back in – we'll take care of this.”

“Sergeant MacTavish,” Kate stares at him, and she spares a quick glance at you as the nurse stands quickly and leaves. You clench your jaw. Without John being here the room felt empty, devoid of a very important figure; you were no leader, but what choice did you have but to take charge, “Price knew the risks, and…Black Op means no take backs. He’s been in this a long time.”

“We all have,” You whisper, grunting as a shiver of fire runs up your leg.

In the back of your subconscious, you know everyone can see how shaken you are. Your eyes constantly rove to the corners as if shadows will suddenly take form and attack, your fingers twitch as if still around the trigger of a gun; when someone mentions John’s name your hand unconsciously reaches to grasp the ring around your neck. Gaz spares you looks, reaching up to fix the position of his ball cap with tense breaths.

Inside, the thoughts were running faster than you could catch them. Every moment you spent with your Captain – dinner dates, gifts that you told him not to buy you but he did anyways…the list went on including the moments spent together. They were distracting you. He was distracting you.

Was this how it felt to lose a vital part of you? Like torture? But your person knows what torture was like – it had never felt as painful as this before. You couldn’t recall in your memory a time when your chest had been this wound tight, fingers so shaky and weak. Your brain was what you would consider your best companion in these situations…but this was different. Common sense had abandoned you in the form of a square brown-bearded face and strong arms.

God, John, You press your fingers into your eyes until you see stars, Please be okay. Please. I’ll be there soon. J-just wait for me.

There was another voice as well, telling you that if you just told yourself he was okay you could get through this easier. You could break later – you needed to focus on getting your husband back.

That was all that mattered.

Laswell scratches at the back of her neck, and your hands fall back to your sides.

“We can’t do anything,” Kate repeats, and the subtle change in phonics leads your head to snap up. Her deep blues were already staring at you; boring into your soul. The others perked up as well when your body stills, listening with predatory attention, “Shame. I heard the target was planning on being at a get-together in a week at his property in Poland.”

Your pulse stills, and you find your wavering voice, “...Can’t fault the man, he has a weapon-smuggling business to run…He’ll need more potential clients.”

“Hm,” The boys look back and forth with bright eyes, teeth showing as their lips peel back, “Affirm.” Laswell saunters to leave the room, slipping past you. But before she brushes against your shoulder her face tilts to you. You smell her scent – bark and coarse linen – as she speaks, “You might want to clean up the armory and get your gear repaired. John wouldn’t stand for his team looking like shit it if he was here.”

Kate saunters out the door, and you watch her back as the barrier closes, standing in silence. Sucking down a slow breath, your gaze filters back to the boys only to find them already staring at you.

“Well,” Clearing your throat, your eyebrows twitch, “You heard her. We can’t do anything…officially.”

“I’d say we better go clean up, then,” Soap grunts, crossing his arms over his chest, and nodding his head to you, “Head off and get a good sleep.”

Gaz and Ghost spare glances, but look about as ready as you are.

“You sure you’re up for this, Love?” Garrick asks motioning toward your leg with a head nod as he moves closer, “We have no problem doing this by ourselves.”

“I took my vows just the same as he did,” You respond immediately, gripping the younger man by the shoulder and sending a small, weak, smile, “You think he’d stay behind if it was me?”

“I think he’d rather let Soap make him tea again. And we know how that went last time.”

You huff out a sound that resembles a laugh, but the Scot in question refuses to look at you; your eyes catch Ghost sending you glances before he motions with his head to the man. Turning to Gaz you nod.

“You take Simon and get the gear ready. We’re leaving tomorrow first thing.”

“Copy, Ma’am.”

Ghost pats your skull once before disappearing, “Keep your head on, Lion.”

The door once more closes, and silence overtakes the small room. Taking a deep breath that fills you with a wave of ease – even if for a moment – you focus on the second big problem after a brief second to close your eyes and think.

Johnny.

He avoids your gaze; fidgets with his hands more than he usually does. The men of the 141 were dear to you and in a way, the entirety of it was a big family of people who really didn’t belong anywhere but with each other. You cared about them more than you cared about yourself – one of them was your husband, but the rest were your brothers.

“You remember when I took a metal rod right through my lower leg?” You begin, hobbling closer and nearly laughing when the man takes a step forward to help with a grimace set on his lips. You raise a hand to stop him, “In Egypt about two summers ago?”

“You shoved me out of the way and got hurled through a window by a bastard with a knife, Hen. Landed in an industrial yard,” You stop a foot or two from him, attempting to get his attention while he stares at his feet and mutters like a kicked dog, “Yeah. Remember it clear as day. Price nearly had my head – knew right here that he was gonna marry you.”

The comment warms your heart.

“Did I ever blame you for standing near that window, Johnny?” You ask softly, tilting your head and catching his eye as he clenches his jaw in thought. The scar on the pale skin moves, and his stubble bunches.

“Never, Ma’am.”

“Then why would I ever blame you for an explosive that went off spontaneously – one that you didn’t even build in the first place?”

He stays silent at that, but his head slowly rises to face yours fully. You had never seen him look so guilty before, those blue eyes of his so hopeless.

“I couldn’t get ‘em out,” Soap whispers and before you know it you’re grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into an embrace, “I left him behind. How could I…?”

There was still blood on him, stuck in the makeup of his flesh like large bruises; dried, yes, but you nonetheless felt it. You found, though, that at that second, it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. The Sergeant’s arms hesitantly wrap around you and when you feel him press forward with his weight, your form loses tension.

“No one blames you, Johnny,” He's shaking when you tell him, “No one. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Price,” Your throat tightens, “John knows how to handle himself, you know he would never be mad at you for retreating.”

Soap wetly laughs and places his chin on the top of your head; playing it off with a chuckle as the minutes stretch on, “I’ll just have to believe you then, Lion. Who’s to say I can go against my superior?”

Your arms tighten around him as a snort meets air, “You say that and when we get the real Captain back, I might not want to give up the position. The power’ll go straight to my head.”

“And it hasn’t already? Now that’s surprising, I could have sworn you were telling the others what to do not a second ago.”

There he was.

—

“I’m just saying, John, Fantasy beat out Nonfiction as a genre,” You shake your head, bringing the cup of coffee to your lips and sipping. Over the rim, you watch the Brit toss his beanied head to the side in disbelief.

“Negative, Dear,” The Café was mostly empty today, considering that it was so late at night you were surprised it was still open and that it was a Tuesday, “I’ll agree to disagree.”

“Name me one Nonfiction book that beats ‘The Hobbit,’ hm?” Your eyebrow raises and you place the cup down, “That’s right – you can’t!”

“‘The Guns of August’ to name one,” John raises a large brow, “do you want me to continue, Love? I’ve got quite the long list.”

It was one of the rare moments when the two of you had Leave together – once in a blue moon. These moments were so special it became tradition to spend every moment together despite the wounds or the fatigue. You both had just gotten back from an Op and rushed to change into civilian clothes and clean up together before leaving.

Admittingly, the shower took a bit longer than expected, but who could blame the two of you for taking advantage of a chance to please one another?

Across the table, your lover smirks, and you see his eyes dip to ogle the hickeys and beard burn on your neck with satisfaction. Under the table, you reel back a foot and kick his shin. Not hard, of course, but the message was received.

“Bloody Hell!” He sputters, looking back to glare comedically at you. His black athletic shirt was tight around his chest, making his muscles writhe under the fabric from where one arm sat over the back of his chair. You could imagine where you left nail marks down those abs of his; how his face had looked as you straddled his waist and used him.

“Don’t look so smug, bastard,” Your lips pull into an imitation of an annoyed frown, “Gaz is gonna make fun of me when we get back. I had a hard enough time trying to hide them when we were leaving!”

“Garrick?” John grunts from across the small table and the warm lights flicker above the two of you. His lips set forth a small smile, pulling his cheeks back and crinkling his eyes. The corner seat was the best in the café – allowing both privacy and a view of the windows and doors. Some things would just never die in the two of you, it seemed, “The Muppet can’t even pin you in drills, Sweetheart. If he teases you, just kick his legs out from under ‘em.”

“Encouraging violence between peers is not Captain behavior, Love. What would Laswell say?”

John grunts, “I couldn’t give a damn, Dear.”

While you roll your eyes and try to hide the adoring smile ripping open your skin at the man’s chuckle, you take notice of the street outside as time moves on. Staring out, your soft gaze dances over the illuminated areas of the street lights, finding old architecture and simply enjoying the scenery for what it was. When you were in the field, it was hard to take in the sights around you through the gun battles and tense situations; being able to take your time and admire was a gift. A calm silence falls over the café, and John hums gingerly from ahead of you as his knee brushes yours under the table.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” Blinking, you connect your eyes with his lovely blues.

The way he’s looking at you leaves your lungs tight, lashes fluttering over your cheeks as heat alights. His body had moved forward, hands and elbows on the table and leaning forward to gaze at you in reverence.

“John?” Your eyebrows turn in, lips flicking to a gentle expression of giddy embarrassment.

“Shh, Love,” He mutters, tilting his head to stare at you as your fingers fix the weight of his lent brown leather jacket over your shoulders, “Let me admire my wife, yeah? She gets lovelier every second.”

In your own little world, your head is floating as your eyes stay locked on an ocean with flecks of silver and storms. The air is thick, and around the leather, your fingers twitch with a want to embrace him; pull at the fabric of his shirt and rip him into a kiss over the table. Your heart skips beats.

Where was this coming from? You want to ask, but all that comes out is a huff as you tear your half-lidded eyes away.

“You’re making me all shy,” You grumble cheeks hot and on fire under the flesh. Your lips try to restrain a giggle, but your chest is too tight to hold anymore.

“That’s my job, that is. No use tryin’ to stop me now; you’re stuck with me.”

“I will kick you again,” You emphasize as fire burns down your neck and ears, heart suddenly too big for your body.

“Hm, I’d let you.”

“J-Johnathan Price!”

His chest-shaking laughter is contagious in the best possible way.

—

He remembers the explosion and then nothing more. It was like a ball of fire, carried on the wind before Soap even had the time to call out a detonation time; the device went off in the deep tunnels after the order had already been given to fallback. The fire was too heavy – you had taken a blade to the thigh and that had been it. John had called it off immediately.

Just when he and Soap were about to rush to the exit, the bomb went off without call or meaning. The tunnels were part of an old wine cellar – the target had converted them to be a quick back exit if anything went wrong and he needed to disappear.

The entire purpose of John taking Soap with him was to collapse the long stretches of rock and wooden support beams; to box Aarre Virtanen in the mansion like a bear in a trap but, of course, these missions could never go simply.

He remembers the explosion, and then nothing more.

The pressure of rock on his chest and gripping hands. Was Soap the one yelling at him to wake up? Shoving off the debris and ripping at his gear with grunted breaths? The barked orders were getting closer from all over.

Muppet, he should have just run.

But then the heavy presence had disappeared, and John knew he had been left behind; his thoughts, before it all left him, were only of you. How would you take it? The fact that he wasn’t coming home with you was sure to induce you into a rampage of gritted teeth and hurled curses. That was, perhaps, the worst thing that could happen. He prayed for one simple thing – that, no matter what, the boys would convince you to hold back.

And then he woke up in the room.

It was small; barren of anything besides the chair John was tied to. Under his feet was a drain, the silver metal glinting as the chilling overhead light cascaded down and left him blinking rapidly to push back the instinctual tears gathering in his ducts. As John moves his neck, it pops, making his jaw clench even as the bones ache deep under the layers of black and blue flesh.

His whole body hurts.

Blood is dried over his skin, and the world around him pulses as the stab of broken bones moves inside of him.

Concussion, He assesses, moving his wrists under the tight hold of rope from where they’re restricted behind his back; tied to the back of the metal seat. Still unable to focus his eyes, he continues to go down the list of injuries, broken ribs, John sucks in a sharp breath when he attempts to rotate his left ankle, and broken Fibula and Tibia. Bruises and lacerations everywhere…shit.

But were you alright? Was the knife wound treated, wherever you were? Did Mactavish get out?

Groaning deep in his throat, the Captain shakes his head, noticing immediately the familiar weight of his gear was absent – his bucket hat and night-vision rig are gone as are the combat vest and M13. But under his shirt, one item is still there, pressed into his skin deeply.

Golden metal. The wedding band. At the very least, that item could bring him a sliver of comfort.

Narrowing his eyelids and scrunching his large nose, a bead of blood travels down a gash above his eyebrow.

“Fucken’ hell,” John growls, grunting and groaning as he forces his neck to right itself, lower body jerking forward to help relieve the pressure on his midsection.

Finally, the water over his eyes dissipates like a wave in the ocean and his ears cease ringing. But the buzzing of the light quickly takes its place and his nose twitches at the stench of black mold and gore. Everything was concrete – the walls, floors. Blinking, John’s eyes quickly snap around the room to take it all in; trying to find the weak points that may come in handy later.

There was only one door and no windows. When the Brit tried the rope around his wrists he found it was bound incredibly tight, even making the skin irritated at the slightest movement.

“Bloody bastard,” The Captain weakly mutters under his breath, shuffling in his seat, “First you stab my wife then you tie me up, is that it?”

Struggling does nothing but serve to make John angrier, and the pain can easily be thrown to the side when his thoughts run to you. They always did, but now more than ever, considering he didn’t know if you had also gotten captured and were only a concrete barrier away.

While he tries to force down the floating feeling of his brain, a sharp cough works its way from his mouth, jerking his body back and forth raggedly. John is so out of it that he missed the sound of the door opening, the violent squeaking of the metal hinges, and the scrape of concrete. Heavy shoes pound over the floor, and when the air finally returns to his rampaging lungs, blue eyes lock onto the man.

Aarre Virtanen stands with his hands behind his back, a smug expression staining his perfect, unscathed, face. The Target wasn’t more than thirty, dressed in a nice expensive suit and dress shoes on his feet shining with more polish than Price could begin to wrap his head around.

Muppet, The characterization was almost instantaneous, Pompous little Muppet. Lion would eat ‘em for bloody breakfast.

John raises a brow slowly as a dribble of blood slides down his nose and gets caught in his beard hairs. The two men stare at one another, eyes clashing.

“I’d like to imagine,” Aarre smirks down at the Captain, “That whoever sent you planned on my life being forfeit. Unfortunately,” John has to stop himself from laughing in his face, “As you can see, Sir, I am very much alive.”

Narrowing his gaze, Price runs down the length of Aarre’s twig-like form – Not much of a Smuggler, is he? His picture made him look bigger.

But all that meant was that he had others to do the dirty work for him, and John knew that, whatever basement he was cramped into, was guarded heavily just beyond eyesight.

The chances of escape were drawing up dry, and his tongue ran over his teeth.

“The real question is, however,” The thin man speaks, coming closer with a careful step. Nose twitching, the Brit can smell the disgusting odor of violent perfume; his head rears back in disgust that the Smuggler takes as fear. Aarre leans closer, “Who might you be? Your little friends managed to slip my grasp, but we got that bitch in the thigh–”

John’s head moves forward so fast all that was seen was a blur, and soon after a cracking of a nose meets damp air.

A muffled yell echoes off the cracked walls like a satisfactory reward to the Captain’s ears, and the brown-haired individual quickly shakes his head to the side to clear the bouncing of his skull.

Definitely a concussion. He hisses and rips at the bindings behind his back; all that gets him is bloody skin and blisters.

“You,” Aarre is stumbling backward, one hand grasping his broken and bleeding nose. Crimson splatters on the floor and ragged breathing rattle chests from both parties, quivering around the room, “You…p-pathetic little shit. Fuck!”

His tears only serve to make John smile, cheeks pulling back as a humorless chuckle enters the air. Feral satisfaction lives in his flesh.

“You better watch your language there, Mutt. It’s not proper to insult a lady who can’t be here,” John’s tone drops, nearly a growl as the deep rumble leaves a hunched over Aarre flinching back; the Captain’s teeth are bared like an animal. Feet sound off in the hallways – rushing boots booking it down a set of descending stairs, “To knock your fucken’ teeth in herself!”

Blood spits from John’s lips at the hiss, and his limp feet over the floor slump to the side as his legs fall open, body raging forward as if he could break the restraints. He wanted to – wanted to bash this little bastard's skull against the floor until he was unrecognizable.

How dare he say that? How dare he call you that?!

Pain could be shoved aside in this case, his anger was so overpowering when it came to you that it simply didn’t bother him. You defended him just as religiously, and John’s mind flies to glimpse a fast memory of you physically getting in the face of a man who had insulted him over some pointless football game at a bar.

“You better mind your tone,” You had spoken slowly, face calm and the perfect example of hidden rage shimmering under the surface. The Brit watched from the corner of his eye with a smirk on his lips; not at all opposed to letting you pick your battles and feeling his heart skip beats when his title falls, “When speaking to my husband like that.”

Aarre’s guards rushed through the door, guns held in hands, all immediately leveled on John’s head.

“Don’t!” The target gasps out, slapping one of the barrels to the floor and straightening himself, “Don’t.”

A deep smirk spreads the still-falling stream of crimson over the sides of his lips; the brown-haired man’s muscles are tense, stringing him up like a wire or a snake ready to strike. Torture was elementary to him, he’d gone through it all before and none of it had ever worked. He could take it, as long as you were far away from here.

“He’s going to have a buyer,” John’s eyes minutely widened in surprise, caught off guard, “Prep him for the flight to Poland. Don’t bother being gentle…the staff won’t mind if he comes in a bit damaged.”

—

Your fingers flinch forward as you shove the sapphire earring into your ear, the sharp point poking out the other end before you shove the backing on. Taking a deep breath, you feel the car under you bounce right as you ask your question.

“Gaz?” Lips thinning, you look through the limo’s glass separator and grimace at the man’s reflection in the mirror, “Are you sure no one knows what we look like? No one at the mansion saw our faces?”

“Lion, I’m promising you – it was too dark, and we were moving too fast for ‘em to get a clear picture.”

“Hm,” You grunt, flattening out the brown fur jacket over your form-fitting gown. The navy blue color was deep, reminding you of a Lapis Lazuli stone with veins of silver reflected in the jewelry around your throat and wrists.

Poland was cold this time of year, and as the expensive buildings whizzed past just outside the glass, your breath created condensation.

You were nervous, heeled feet shuffling over the tufted floor of the vehicle and sucking down slow breaths as a way to slow your heart. It had been a week without John at your side, and all the makeup in the world couldn’t hide the bags that had sprouted under your eyes; sleep had come in bouts of quick fatigue but then left just as swiftly. Your body wouldn't relax – couldn’t – until your husband was right beside you once more.

And if he was already dead…

Your hand goes to itch at your neck, catching on the necklaces, one specifically, before you force it back down with quivering effort. Attempting to shake out your head, your ribs suddenly feel like they’re strangling your organs, and all you want to do is take off this damn dress.

Kyle utters your name from the driver’s seat, and when you blink over to look at him, you find his eyes already staring back.

“When I went missing in the Congo – you raised hell to go and find me,” He tells you, focus flicking back and forth from the road to you, “If anyone can get intel on Price and bring him back, Love, it’s you. He’ll be just fine until then, yeah? Bloke’s probably already out and rushing to get back to you.”

“Think so?” Your lips form a smile, and on your forehead, a brow raises. John was stubborn, there was certainly a chance he was already free.

“Know so, Ma’am. Just you wait and see.” Snorting, you return to looking out the window, breath now noticeably more even.

There weren't many people who could make you keep a conscience; when you worked alone before 141 it was because no one else could keep up with your spontaneous plans or ideas. You were described in your file as a quick-witted and cunning nuisance for anyone on the opposite end of your weapon – whether that be your tongue or an actual gun just depended on the Op. But John and the other boys were more of a good influence than a bad one; in many ways, they were just the same as you.

Sometimes it felt nice to have people that understood you. Your actions, the small tics that gave away how you were feeling. No one else could do it like Task Force 141, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The rest of the ride was silent, and soon the city was peeling back to show off more extravagant houses with iron gates and cobblestone walkways. Properties the size of football fields take up your view, and your eyes blink at the extravagance; all you can’t help but wonder about is if the people that live there even know how many rooms they have.

When Gaz makes the final turn onto Aarre Virtanen’s land, you suck down a deep breath.

There were so many lights that the night sky is nearly re-illuminated with a bath of warmth – the people already inside can be heard out in the air, a chorus of phantoms just beyond eyesight who sing with alcoholic breath and gasp down smoke. You had been to many parties to infiltrate high-level organizations, but never had the stakes been so high.

Or so illegal.

When the car in front of you pulls out of the roundabout driveway, Garrick pushes on the gas to take its place. A moment of steel silence rings.

“Earpiece?” Gaz reminds softly, and you nod in response, tapping the appendage on your right side.

“Earpiece.”

“Alright…The rest of us’ll be listening – I’ll circle ‘round and be inside in an hour and Ghost is already there. He’s the waiter wearing the silver Jackal mask serving champagne near the back window. If anything goes wrong, Soap’s our sniper on the roof of the neighbor's house. Say the word and he starts popping shots to give you an exit.”

“Affirm,” Your hand is already reaching for the door, but the man stops you one last time with your name. You find his creased eyes in the mirror, brown a deep shade of concern.

“...You look beautiful, Love, Yeah? I’m sorry the Cap. isn’t here to see you like this – he’d lose his damn mind. Go all slack-jawed and trip over his own feet; God, I’d pay to see that.”

Lips delicately slide into a smile, and your face heats at the compliment. Letting out a light chuckle, you whisper, “I’ll see you in an hour, Sergeant.”

“Count on it. Stay out of trouble ‘till then?”

“Trouble? Since when have I ever gotten into trouble?” When you sneak out the door, a light chuckle bounces off the doors before they close, and your heels click against the ground like nails on a desk.

With a bitter determination entering your blood, your expression eases into a look of smug superiority as you begin to move forward and ascend the steps in front of the mansion.

Virtanen was inside those doors, and your ears twitch, listening to Gaz peel the car away into the night; plucking out the forged invitation from your jacket pocket, you can’t help but call John forward to memory. Carefully maneuvering your way up the last flight of stairs, you reach the doors and imagine your husband right behind you, clothed in a suit and tie like the one he wore to your wedding, waiting to take you by the arm and lend you strength.

Keep me aware, You want to ask his phantom, Make me see the hidden details so I can bring you home to me.

Invitation in hand – which Ghost had to go through quite the killing spree to get accurate – your lips flick into an easy smirk.

Your silver tongue would come in handy tonight, but you hoped you weren’t too tired to miss important social cues. You needed to figure out where John was by tonight, or there was the possibility of losing him forever. Aarre Virtanen was the target yet again, and you would do whatever was necessary to get information to spill from his mouth like prayers; the party was an obvious front to impress buyers.

And you could play that part quintessentially.

“Hello, Handsome,” Purring, you move fluidly, body swaying as you come to a stop, letting your fur jacket slip down around your elbows and display a delicious amount of skin around your adorned neck, “So sorry you’re stuck out here in the cold, I can’t imagine what a bore it’s been.”

The man couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, eyes wide as they bore into your form from behind a silver mask depicting a bird of prey. His eyes slip, and a very audible swallowing of saliva makes his throat jerk – the poor individual's face was undoubtedly beet-red, seen extending down his neck and ears.

“I-It’s really no problem, Ma’am,” He stutters, grabbing the slip of paper from your outstretched hand and barely opening it before he shoves it back into your chest, “You’re all good! Please, enjoy the hospitality of Sir Aarre Virtanen to the fullest of your abilities.”

“Why,” You show an all-teeth smile, “I’m sure I will.”

Slipping through when he opens the door, a woman in a cat mask offers to take your jacket to the coatroom, which you agree to immediately, and disappears a second later.

“Did you just flirt with the doorman, Hen?” Soap’s voice nearly startles you, but with a subtle flick of your hair, you play off the flinch as you step through the extensive foyer; slipping past other well-dressed individuals to make it to the ballroom, “Tch, naughty, naughty.”

“You’d be surprised,” You mutter and send a polite smile to a man who ogles your form, his eyes boring into your flesh, “How fast people can look over an invitation if you give them an incentive. Simon’s forger misspelled the street name.”

“Bloody fucken’ bastard,” Ghost growls lowly under the line.

“So vulgar, Simon,” You smirk, waltzing into the marble-floored ballroom and clearing yourself a path with wide eyes and stares, “We’re at a party. Aren’t you excited?”

“You’re not the one holding a damn plate of champagne, Little Lion. Feelin’ like I might bash someone over the head if they wave me over with a fucken’ finger again. Like I’m some damn mutt.”

Stifling a deep laugh, your fingers splay over your lips, “Easy, boy. Don’t go barking up the wrong tree.”

All you hear in return is a grumble and a muffled giggle from Soap. Gaz is most likely scrambling to get his tux on and tie a bowtie like how you taught him on the far street corner back in the city. Slowly, but surely, it was coming together.

Soon, You tell yourself and imagine a steady hand splayed over your back; digging into your skin.

“Excuse me?” A presence slips up to your left, and you turn with a slow head and an even slower smile. Already, your cheeks were hurting from the constant fake expression.

“Oh, hello, Love,” It’s a man who wears an all-black outfit, fitted with silver buttons and a red pocket square, “How can I help you?”

“That’s one of the target’s guards,” Soap slithers out over the line, “Saw ‘em scheming not five minutes ago near the snack bar.”

“I was wondering if such a beautiful woman might not humor me. I’m in desperate need of company for the auction later this evening.” Your smile turns deadly, a glint forming in your eye that should have deterred anyone who saw it – but sometimes people overlook the snake in the grass if it’s pretty, regardless of its fangs.

Getting close to this man got you close to Aarre. Your hand reaches up to caress the wedding ring on its chain.

“Well, how could I say no to such a dashing man? But you must tell me, where did you purchase your tux? My brother has been looking for one that looks the same; you understand, of course, the kind that hugs the body just right…”

—

“You’re a fucken’ minx, you are,” John moans under you, hips sputtering and jaw clenched. He’s panting as you finally slip off of him, choosing to collapse to the bed just by his side with a breathy sigh. Your legs are still shaking, but the deep-rooted ache of pleasure takes hold in your lower body nonetheless.

Chuckling while sucking down breaths, you smirk and turn your head to the side, finding deep blue already digging into your skin despite the glaze over the orbs. Perspiration leaks down his flushed forehead, getting caught in the hairs of his eyebrow before you reach up, and flick it away with a firm finger.

“And you’re a lousy bottom, Captain, how many times did I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” You ask, eyeing the way the brown strands of John’s hair stick up at odd angles with growing amusement. He looked like a porcupine, “You don’t listen very well. I’ll have to fix that.”

“Damn woman,” He groans, turning his head away with a huff escaping his lips. Your ears twitch when he cracks his neck, stifling a chortle behind your fingers as he levels you with an unamused look, “Need to figure out a way to tire you out quicker. Gettin’ too old for this.”

“Hm,” Rolling your eyes, you shift till you’re laying on your stomach, legs sliding over the ruffled sheets, “I like you like this. Just perfect.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my hips, Love.” Now that really gets a laugh out of you, hiding your face down in the covers for a moment and feeling John’s eyes lovingly gracing down the curve of your spine.

Reaching over, your fingers grab onto the bare skin of his toned thigh and pinch.

Grunting in surprise, the Captain’s hand snaps to your wrist and grasps it as your giggles fill the air with softness. You turn your head up and rest your chin on your free hand, looking over and letting your eyes wash down John’s physique; a primal sense of possessiveness leaks into you when you know no one else gets to see him like this. The nail marks track down his pecks, over his abs and deliciously lower atop his navel, and over his neck and collarbone is the fresh array of black and blue hickeys. Just like you, his heart was still racing, seen moving under the skin.

He looked positively, beautifully, wrecked. The Captain’s eyes never left yours, side-eyeing you with a half-open mouth. A small sigh leaves his red lips.

“C’mere,” John mutters, and you squeak when his grip is suddenly pulling you right up next to his chest so that you were more than half lying on top of him.

Moaning out in contentment when you feel his heat leak into you, your body goes limp against the man; leg thrown over his upper thigh. Eyelashes flutter over your cheek when his large hand keeps you against him, settling on your ass heavily. He squeezes gently in payback for the pinch, and you smile, knowing he can feel it against his chest by the way he purrs like a cat as you press a kiss to his sweat-slick flesh.

The moment of content silence leads long, but just when your eyelids are nearing their final shut is when you hear it, muttered on teeth-bitten lips for the first time, though it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Love you, my Sweet Girl,” John mutters deeply into the air, but you’re already drowned in sleep, satisfied and more at ease than ever before.

But no matter, he’d just tell you again in the morning; make you say the same as he gripped your hips and used his tongue for more…carnal types of confessions.

You had no idea at that moment, but two years from that day, you’d both be married. Husband and wife in every sense – bonded and promised to each other until the sun and moon collided; till every city burned and only dust remained.

There was really no other pair so carefully crafted than the two of you.

—

“Here you are, Lovely,” The guard, whose name is Mikael, hands you a champagne glass as you both stride forward to the bidding room. It had been two hours of entertaining this man – dancing, flirting, brushing off compliments that made you want to hurl – but none of that mattered. No matter the cost, you would see this done with a smile and a knife through Virtanen’s eye.

“Thank you,” You sing, toasting with him and taking a slow sip. The liquid sits bitterly in your stomach, a rock that bounces around with every clipped step.

Choosing back-row seats, you sit in what could be described as a theater of sorts and place the glass on the floor. There was a large stage at the front, with rows upon rows of plush chairs.

How many people are here to buy smuggled contraband? You can’t help but wonder silently, eyes wide as more and more people flood through the doors.

“Do you usually get so many buyers?” Asking Mikael sweetly, you keep your gaze moving, filing every face into the back of your mind for later.

His hand moves to rest on the back of your seat, and you have to hold back a grimace, “This is more than the last times, but, uh…well,” Sensing hesitation, you shift closer and peer up into his eyes, blinking innocently and smiling.

“Well…what?”

You swore you heard Soap gag over the line and soon after a sharp shushing sound. At your side, Mikael’s expression gets giddy, pupils dilating as his vision darts down to your dress before righting itself.

“My boss has got something good tonight – a new piece of merchandise that everyone wants to get their hands on. Apparently, some people here have been waiting for a score like this for years.”

“Oh?” Wondering aloud, you lean back out of Mikael’s hold with a furrowed brow and ignore his light huff of annoyance in your ear.

Narrowing your eyes, you scrunch your nose at the thought.

‘New piece of merchandise?’ What the hell could that mean? The target mostly specializes in weapons – certain ones that are manufactured so that they can’t be traced…what could be so new?

“It’s starting, here,” The guard whispers as the lights dim, and hands you a golden-colored bid paddle designed with lace-like designs. You twirl it in your hands with an unimpressed look.

“How pompous can this guy get?” You mutter under your breath and startle when Ghost’s voice pipes up.

“Get me a new G18, yeah? Johnny lost my last one.” Resisting the sudden urge to cover up your face and hide your smile, you lightly hum in the back of your throat.

“I did not!” Soap starts a ruckus as the Auctioneer comes onto the stage, and you ignore the fast man’s voice as he begins a bid for a stack of RPGs – wheeled out in a crate by three other individuals in animal masks – in favor of the amusing argument, “I told ya’ where you could blood find it.”

“It was in the middle of an active war zone, MacTavish.”

“You’ve never complained about it before, ya’ bawbag. Canny be my fault if you don’t go an’ get it.” The Scots accent gets more prominent as the Auctioneer sells the current merchandise to a couple sitting two rows down, “‘I lost it’...utter shite.”

Gaz groans and you see a shadow near the door, leaning on the wood from the corner of your eye. The badly presented bowtie gives away who it is – you’d have to have John teach him how to do it properly when you got him back.

“Would the two of you shut up? Bloody hell, I’m about to scream.”

The bickering went on for a while, making your tight chest just a little looser. John would be proud of them.

“Finally,” The Auctioneer calls out, yelling over the crowd, “The grand attraction for tonight – a product put forward by our esteemed host Mr. Virtanen!”

Your body straightens, spine tensing, as Mikael tries to get your attention fruitlessly to talk about a product he won. You ignore the guard, watching with a unique type of hatred as the weasel of a man swishes his way on stage from behind the red curtain. Immediately all conversation in your ear is halted, and try as you might, a growl builds in your throat.

“Easy, Lion,” Simon mutters, but all you see is red; red around an expensive tux and a lithe form of the man who had stolen away your husband from you without thinking of the consequences. The bandages over his nose gives you cruel satisfaction that someone, whoever they were, had gotten a hit in.

You had half the mind to tell Soap to take the shot but knew that if you did, John would be lost forever. Your Captain had always said violence and timing were the most important aspects of a mission – you had to politely disagree.

Ops could be accomplished without violence, though it was rare, it could still happen on occasion and timing was all relative. One person could say it was time to act while a million others disagreed; this was shown in your case. You wanted to rush the stage, tackle the thief, and beat his head in – Gaz, Soap, and Ghost would all disagree, of course, but that was because you were thinking only about John and nothing else.

What really mattered was cunning and drive. You had the silver tongue, and you, without a doubt, had the drive to see this through.

But nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aarre Virtanen called out, his thin face ugly and punchable, “May I present the star of tonight's bidding wars – an esteemed and highly sought-after mystery man! Captain Jonathan Price!”

The curtain rolled back, and, tied to a chair with a light shining above his head, was John. Beaten. Bloodied. Barely recognizable besides the tufts of his brown locks and the glittering of golden metal under the ragged remains of his clothes. You can see his wedding band around his neck, and you go to grip your own in a flashing second. There was so much blood. Your heart ceased working, body suddenly very numb and stone-still despite the heat in it, as if you had been shot in the throat and all you could do was gasp out in panic. And gasp you did. It was involuntary, instinctual, like you could feel every ounce of pain and agony that he was undoubtedly in deep in your own marrow.

What?!

A loud, horrified, sound rips from your throat; the air was hard to suck down as your hand snapped to your mouth, muffling the exclamation of terror. Your eyes are so wide you’re afraid they’ll pop out of their sockets as you lightly hunch into yourself like a bug.

“Now, now!” Aarre Virtanen continues over the muttering of the crowd, oblivious to your panic in the back row. Mikael is giving you strange looks, lightly pulling away from you in confusion at your reaction; you don't register any of it, “I know what you’re thinking, my lovely patrons, but I can say without a doubt that this man–” He points to the limp figure, “Is the one and only Johnathan Price! Do you want to know why?” The crowd cheers, and in that instant you want to torch the entire building and laugh as it burns to the ground, “Because he and his precious 141 tried to attack me on my own property! The idiot’s explosive went off before they could run!”

Over the ruckus of gleeful laughter, Soap on the line is hissing curses under his breath, voice heated and full of hatred.

What I’m I supposed to do? Your mind’s running. For the first time in your career, you can’t focus clearly. Gaz is saying something in your ear, his shadow slinking closer step-by-step, and Ghost is nowhere to be seen or heard.

Oh, John, You feel like crying, eyes running from one injury to another as if he were just a punching bag – his body was broken, but still, you knew he hadn’t given anything away. In the chair, you can see the small inhalations of his lungs, jumpy and shaking, but he was still breathing.

“How did they figure out his name?” Simon grunts over the line, and his tone is the only one unaffected by emotion, even if you could feel the anger wafting out and mirroring your own.

His dog tags, You want to tell them, He keeps them in his vest pocket because he said he wanted to wear his wedding band instead.

Your hand tightens over your matching piece, one half of a promise to protect one another even in the direst of circumstances.

Freezing, you snap back into focus as the bidding starts with Aarre Virtanen laughing and clapping on stage like some demented jester. So be it. Your mind halts and a rage-induced calm encompasses you as your eyes stick like glue to John. Tossing the joke of a bid paddle at a startled Mikael’s lap and slipping past him, your heels connect with the floor with muffled thumps, carrying you down the middle of the aisle.

“Ma’am–!”

“Lion, what in the bloody hell are you doing?!”

“Playing the game,” You growl over the chaos in the comm, “Gaz, find a way to get on stage from behind one of the curtains,” People are starting to turn and look at you now, accusing glances that bounce off you like flies, “Soap, have a line of sight of the target – do not let him stray from it no matter what. And Ghost,” Your heart is speeding when Virtanen’s gaze snaps to yours, expression blanking. John groans weakly from where his head is downturned, and you can’t help but take a shaky breath at the sound, “Go find out where they store the sold items. Find something that’ll come in handy. Take out anyone you need, I give full Execute Authority.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” They all say it at once, and the line goes silent not a second after, flipped off so everyone can remain focused. Steeling your body, you put on a cloak of indifference, even as your eyes bug and sweat stains your palms – the stakes had never been this high, and if you messed this up…

The both of you would be going home in body bags.

If I had known he was going to be here, I would have come more prepared. A knife in a carry bag or a hairpin – Something. But John had stated before that he loved you for your intuition.

You simply needed to move your pawn piece and hope it wasn’t in the way of a bishop.

Sliding over your husband's slumped body once more, you have to rip your gaze away, else your cover be blown and everything falls apart before it’s begun as a sting forms in the back of your nose.

Just a little longer, Love, just hold out a little bit longer.

The Auctioneer halts when you stand just below the slightly higher plateau of the platform, and Aarre digs into your body with his dead face, body bent to stare down at you. All around you, the world is deathly quiet. A minute…two…

“And who might this be?” Virtanen spits, lips pulling into a sneer as his eyes crinkle, “I don’t have to tell you, Dear, that all purchases are final.”

Don’t look at John. Don’t look at him.

“You said this is Johnathan Price?” Your voice carries; it's stronger than you would have imagined, even as your legs shake, “Well, I don’t believe you.” You swore then that your Captain’s head moved slightly, his face turning to the side, but you can’t be sure.

Gasps are hidden behind hands and handkerchiefs.

“...What?” The smug look on the man's face falls in an instant, just as you had hoped it would – Virtanen relied on his power; ego, and unquestioned superiority. What you had to do first was break it down to a point where he was frothing at the mouth, “What is it that you are implying? That I would…lie to my loyal customers?!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Your feet carry you away to the stairs, scaling them up to the stage and shoving past shell-shocked guards who didn’t know what to do, “Where’s the proof, Mr. Virtanen? I believe I would like to see it before I make any definitive financial choices. You could be selling us any stray British man you found on the street and we’d be none the wiser for it.”

There was a pause before a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

Aarre gapes at you, mouth opening and closing as his face gains a red sheen, blood rushing to his head and making his eyes rapidly flutter from the guests to you. Swallowing down saliva, you saunter up to John, fingers shaking as they reach out to brush his arm. You nearly break when his flesh flinches and becomes tense, muscles writhing as you hook a finger under his chin all too aware of the eyes on you from every angle. It helps that one of them is Soap, though.

Looping the digit under him, John’s beard scratches your skin just like it always did when you ran your hands over his cheeks or around his square face. Moving his head up, your grip vibrates with anxiety when you’re finally able to take a full look at his visage.

Please be okay, Love.

You can’t help the widening of your eyes when they lock on the bruises, the cuts, and scratches littering his large nose and forehead. His eyelids flutter over sunken cheeks, bags of severe color under his orbs as a rumble echoes in his battered chest.

Did they even feed him?

“I don’t – I don’t like what you’re implying, Miss!” The Target continues to prattle, but already your shoulders have squared, “I would never, in a million years, make such false claims–!”

When John’s eyes shutter open you seem to forget where you are entirely, head completely going silent off all fears or concerns. As the lids slide back, you notice one optic is bathed in red – the veins in the gentle sensory organ having been popped by relentless fists…but the other, oh, oh, the other. A shade so familiar it twists your lips and makes your heart clench. Storm gray; ocean blue, flecks of moonlight trapped just for you.

John’s focus is blurry, his mind confused and in need of a dark room with a glass of chilled whiskey to put on his forehead, but...that finger under his chin. His gaze narrows, lips pulling tight under his beard hairs as a shadow stands in front of him. Why did it feel so familiar? So…warm?

“John?” A soft voice graces his ears, leaving them twitching as his arms burn more than a thousand suns, “John, please, look at me.”

His face scrunches, eyebrows turning in. Blinking, the man only succeeds for a few moments, consciousness so rapidly fading because of the wear on his body, but a few moments was all he needed.

It was you – looking at him with terrified eyes, mouth slightly parted in awe. John’s heart skips beats.

She’s here? He questions, weakly moving his arms to try and embrace her before the rope stops his bloodied and shredded hands, Why? How? And…oh hell, is that a dress?

Blinking at the navy gown, his eyes widened at the heavenly sight in front of him. Was he dead? No, he realized, you wouldn’t be here if he was. But that was the only option to see something like this in front of him when he was where he currently was.

“L-love?” He gasps out, letting his full weight fall into your hold.

Your hand brushes over his beard, tangling in the bristles and flinching at the open wounds that you find.

“It’s me,” You whimper, “I’m right here.”

If possible, he gravitates toward you even more.

“--Are you even listening?!” Aarre Virtanen yells, and people are standing from their seats out in the crowd, calling out in confusion.

John murmurs out comments from under your grip, but they’re so weak you can’t make them out as he nuzzles your limb. From the corner of your eye, a figure rustles one of the stage curtains, held back in the shadows.

“I’m here,” Gaz says a second before Simon does.

“I found something that might come in handy...When I throw it, get Price out of there and take cover.”

“Soap?” You ask, voice low and gaining a sheen of ice. Slowly, your head tilts to the side, gripping your husband by the back of the head and drawing him to your stomach, caressing his scalp through his hair as he sighs into your dress.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Take it.”

“...With pleasure.” The ear-ringing shot fires off, breaking glass and rustling half-drawn curtains, but it meets its mark with expert precision.

Aarre Virtanen’s head pops like a balloon, and a moment later a smoke bomb is being chucked from halfway across the room by a Jackal-masked waiter with a strong arm. Before the guards can even get to their pistols around their thighs, Gaz has rushed through the smoke and sliced John’s bonds with a serrated cake knife. Both of you grab your Captain by one of his arms and drag him off to the side, disappearing just as the first screams wail out.

The 141 works like a well-oiled machine, and not five minutes later everyone is in the limo that Gaz had re-driven and parked down the dark roads of Poland, rushing off as you press table cloths against your husband’s leaking cuts. Tears dribble down your cheeks, with large hiccuped gasps as you lean over John – who could only barely keep his eyes open to look at you as Soap and Ghost watch anxiously from their seats.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, y’know that,” You sob out, practically sitting on top of him to stop the crimson leaking over the cushions, “I need to keep a bell on you, my Love.”

Your wedding band sways just above his face, and his own glints below you, bunched on his collarbone.

“Go on,” He says in a low voice, eyes incredibly soft but still distant in a way that told you he was concussed. It was a miracle he was even conscious if you could admit it to yourself.

The man’s shaking hand travels to your cheek, brushing away tear tracks only to leave blood stains behind instead. He pulls away slightly, staring at the mark in disgust as his complexion gets even paler. Snapping your grip up, you bring it back, making him cup your flesh in his big hands and splay his fingers over your ear and weave into your hair.

John hums under his breath, “Beautiful.”

Then he goes limp, and you start screaming.

—

Stripping your face of makeup, you step into the shower with only your necklace on, letting the water slap against your head as you take a deep breath in. You lean forward, letting your head connect with the porcelain of the hospital’s washroom as your body begins to shake – finally allowed to fall apart and feel the genuine horror that had lived in you for a week straight.

John was just a door away in the hard bed of some random hospital Gaz had driven to. Quite recklessly, you should mention, but it’s not like it mattered.

Ghost was on the phone with Laswell, getting a protection detail in case anyone attempted to break into the room and stab someone with a scalpel, while Gaz and Soap also got ready for sleep. No one was leaving the hospital tonight. Garrick had explained the situation in broken Polish to the local authorities, and the staff was kind enough to give out a free office room with pillows and blankets. It was a good thing that the room was connected to John’s, otherwise, you might have refused…even if the bags under your eyes threatened to block your line of sight.

Wiping blood and grime from your body, you take less time than you should have in the shower – too occupied with being by your husband's bedside. The new stitches on your recently ripped-open thigh wound were red with irritation, but you had all but forgotten about it entirely.

They had only just gotten John stable an hour ago.

“They, uh,” Gaz’s eyelids crease, “I think they said that they had to re-” He halts, face going slack, and sending you a slow look, “restart his heart.”

“They nearly beat him to death,” You whisper, hands coming up to weave over the top of your head as you sob into the wall, “They…God, John. I was nearly too late.”

Your words trail off in a weak whimper, muffled over the sound of water and the whirring fan in the ceiling. What if you had been five minutes late? Three? Would he have…

Would he have died in your arms?

You spend the rest of the shower wondering, and as you dry yourself off and slip into sweats and a hoodie from the gift shop, your tears splatter the floor. Rubbing your nose, you sniffle; reaching to grab the ring and pull the chain out above the fabric. Your fingers caress the item for a minute or two, and your eyes flutter shut.

He’s okay, You tell yourself, He’s just a door away. He’s alive.

You open the door and let the steam waft, itching at your neck before you take a steadying breath. John lays still on the hospital bed, body hooked to machines that display screens and vital signs with glitching green lights that pierce your eyes as if a mocking little beast was behind the glass.

Your husband’s wounds are all stitched and glued back together; wrapped tightly and tucked in by your gentle hands with an extra blanket. He usually complained about how cold it was back at your shared flat in London and around the multiple bases the Force traveled to…you would hate for him to shiver here.

It was the least you could do.

Drawing your eyebrows in, the red ring around your eyes doesn’t help the sting, but still, you gaze at your husband with all the tender concern in the world.

If was determined, then, that you wouldn’t be able to sleep until he was awake; until you saw his eyes soften on your figure. Until he was tracing the very makeup of your genetics like no other being could even have a glimpse of you in their features – like the aspects of your form were holy and utterly unique, never seen besides out of legend and fable. You longed to bathe his flesh in the feeling of your touch. If you believed it hard enough, you could convince yourself that you could make him forget this ordeal, forget the wounds.

But you were no fool. A cunning nuisance, perhaps, but not a fool.

All you could do was wait for him to wake up, and so your socked feet carry over the tile and bring you to the chairs beside the bed, grabbing one and pulling it out. Your fingers intertwined with his, weaving the calloused pads and scared flesh that mirrored your own like an echo of history together.

Bringing his limb to your face, you rest your forehead on it, feeling the pump of his blood like a hymn and letting it calm you. A presence in the room makes your once closed eye crack open, slipping to the side. You had only just noticed him.

I really must be tired.

“Doctors say he’s stable,” Gaz mutters lowly, leaning against the wall in the far corner. It was like he had known you wanted someone to watch John while you couldn’t – even if only for a few minutes, “They came in while you were showering”

Your lungs inflate, “...Thank you, Kyle.”

You feel his eyes on you, but as you lay a gentle kiss on your husband's knuckles he speaks once more.

“You sure you don’t want to get some rest, Love? It’s late, y’know – sun’s gonna come up in a few hours around here.” It was a nice concern, and you knew that after Ghost’s call with Laswell that he’d get some sleep as well; Johnny was already snoring away, the sound nearly heard through the walls.

Gaz, well…

“And am I to expect my Sergeant to get some rest if I do that?” Your voice is hoarse and weighed down, but the message is clear. The man lets out a chuckle, pushing off the wall and coming over to you. He rests a hand on your shoulder and you lean into it.

“I have no problem watching over him for you – he’s my Captain too, Lion. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you have to carry the burden more than the rest of us.”

If you could have rolled your eyes, you would have. A teasing tone sneaks into your words as you snort.

“Gaz, and I mean this in the best possible way,” Your lips utter out, still gazing at John’s face as it scrunches and twitches in his sleep, “Respectfully, fuck off, yeah?”

A moment of silence passes before a thick laugh echoes out over the room.

“You act a lot like Cap. when he’s out of commission, Ma’am.”

“Of course I do,” Your grip travels up John’s arm, tracing old blemishes and kissing across bruises, “If he brings all the hard-headedness away with him, none of you lot would get anything done.”

An easy air keeps the both of you in a tight embrace and Garrick’s hand squeezes for a moment; a piece of you breaks open as your gaze slips to the floor.

“I’ll take the night shift. Please, I…,” Your voice borders on unheard, “I can’t sleep until he’s awake.”

He sighs but nods his head.

“Say no more. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you just come get me, yeah? Don’t worry if you have to be loud – been trying to get used to waking up abruptly anyways.” His hand disappears, and you huff.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. You better.” Gaz’s feet carry him away and through the side door, slipping into the office. A rustling of thin cotton is heard a moment later before the door completely closes on its own.

You stay in that chair for another hour and a half before John moves an inch. When you feel his finger twitch you jerk up, drool falling from your chin to the sheets before you wipe it off.

“John?” Breathing out a gasp, you shake your head to focus better, and pause when his hold on your hand suddenly gains strength. Your heart soars.

“...Love,” He grunts out, face scrunched, and tense.

At that moment you swear your body loses all weight, and you pull the chair closer as you wetly speak.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here. D-don’t move too much, just let the painkillers work.”

“Bloody things make my damn head lose,” He groans, head falling to the side on the pillow as his eyes flutter open.

You place his knuckles to your lips to hide the shuttered breath you take when you see his eyes – even if one was still red. It was still your John.

He looks at you for a moment, eyes glazed, with his jaw clenching and unclenching to gain bearing. The covers hide his chest, but you hear the way he breathes as his messed-up bedhead leaves you chuckling. But the longer you were chuckling, the more you wanted to cry, and soon nothing could stop the swell of vile sobs falling from your mouth.

“Oh,” John whispers out, voice weak as his digits twitch under your shaking lips, “C’mere, Love. None of that, now.”

Your body falls forward, and the man hides the grunt in his chest when you unintentionally hit his ribs as you burrow closer into his side. He doesn’t mind. John’s hand goes to the back of your head, weaving through the strands as the covers catch your tears – he’s looking down at you with such blatant worry it hurts.

He shouldn’t be worried about me, look what happened. He’s in the fucking hospital.

“Y-You,” You’re gasping for breath, chest tight and vibrating. ‘Take a breath’ it tries to tell you, but getting the words out was more important. John’s hand gets tighter, and he longs to kiss your forehead, “I didn’t know if you were dead, a-and then when they had you on stage I was trying so hard to keep it together, John. But…but then you were bleeding all over the car and I was screaming at you too–”

“Breathe,” Your husband pleads, authority leaking into the comment, “Please, Dear, take a breath for me, Yeah? I’m right here.”

You weep but do as he says, feeling the muscles under your grip move as he shifts his weight. Taking a deep breath, your nose is shoved into the fabric of the blankets, inhaling John’s scent and letting it encompass you entirely.

He was there. He was right there.

Letting out one last whine, your Captain prompts you to lift your head with a muted brush of his finger over your scalp. Pulling yourself up, you scrunch the bedding in your hands around John’s waist, practically leaning all the way over him. It was a good thing the bed wasn’t too high.

He smiles softly down at you, his grip moving to slip past your eyebrow and swipe away the salty water that itches your chin, “There she is. My beautiful wife”

Your watery chuckle wraps him in more warmth than any blanket ever could.

“Do you need anything?” You mutter after a minute of staring into each other’s eyes, head tilting to the side as your heart rate finally slows to a pace that copies John’s.

One of your hands goes to smooth his hair, carefully flattening down the patches and being mindful of the bandages and band aids over his visage. You swear he purrs at you, body rumbling under your chest.

He doesn’t answer right away, instead focusing on mapping out your face – as if for the first time. But when he does speak he brushes off the question entirely.

“I had a dream.”

“A good one?” You ask immediately, voice equally as low and vulnerable as his. In his orbs, you see stars blinking with every movement, deep hues of blue in every shade.

“Hm,” He affirms, a slow smile blossoming on his lips, “You were there.”

“That, my love, could mean many things.”

“No. Only one, Mrs. Price,” Your eyebrows raise, eyes watering as rogue drops tracks fall down your cheeks once more.

It was all so much. Getting him back; seeing him like this, having him talk to you like that again – with all the love in the world. He was beaten, but alive, and already awake beside the gargantuan odds.

But you didn’t marry him just because you thought he was buff and could give you a good time. You married him because he was John, and no one else could be.

John’s gaze washes over you, narrowed in that expression he always had on his face when he’s thinking. When he’s studying you with more care than anyone has in your entire life. Like he could figure out everything and anything about you in the way your lips curved, or how you looked at him so delicately as if he was made of glass and not stone or metal.

He could never understand how you loved him so much, how every bit of stardust was reflected into your body and leaked out of you whenever you moved.

How he managed to get you by his side…well, he’d never know. But the feeling was mutual.

“Oh,” Your thumb caresses his cheek, running over the bristles and skimming over the skin, “And what’s that, Mr. Price?”

“..Means I’ve been blessed to see you not only when I open my eyes…but when I close ‘em too.”

In Poland, two people are finally able to press their lips together for the first time in a long while; they themselves would say it felt like ages. That was expected, naturally, because a match such as the one made between you and Jonathan Price was forged with steel and tempered in rough waters. Nothing could break it.

Their wedding bands clink together as they pull back, glinting gold more vibrant than the sun…but not quite as warm or adoring as the looks in their eyes.

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cobaltperun · 5 months ago

Text

Woe out the Storm (16) - A War You Cannot Win

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word count: 3k

-Said no, hell no, I am not yours to rule, I won't be your fool-

It came out of nowhere, like lightning out of blue. Your dad hit the brakes, so hard the car stalled, and grabbed you, blasting the back of the car and jumping out. “Dad?!” he ignored your yell, yellow lightning engulfing him as he shifted into his bear lightning beast form and began running. All your confusion and the question that died on your lips vanished as a loud explosion destroyed your dad’s car.

You dared to look behind, seeing the remains falling onto the road as a figure emerged from the smoke and flames, and you recognized him immediately, just by feeling alone.

The Raijin, the thunder god, returned.

Your heart stopped for a moment, that fear, that despair returning. You trusted your dad, you knew he was strong, but not even he could go up against Raijin. He ran off the road, jumping down the hill and enhancing his speed through lightning. You were a raiju as well, but his lightning was much stronger, and you felt it electrocuting you bit by bit, but you gritted your teeth, you could deal with some numbness as long as you got away from the monster. He wasn’t running after you and for a brief, naïve moment you thought he just meant to scare you.

And then the birds flew up abruptly, each and every one of them fleeing. You saw other small animals you were running past fleeing in any direction, the entire forest being engulfed in existential panic and something primal within you, an instinct born from being a raiju told you there was no escape.

Then it happened. Everything around the two of you just exploded in a burst of blue lightning and you only survived because your dad managed to jump into the air and shift back into his human form, grabbing onto you and hovering in air with lightning.

“What the…?!” you couldn’t believe what you were seeing, an entire area, easily a mile in radius, was just destroyed. The ground cracked, trees burning and uprooted, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh of the animals that failed to flee engulfed your sense, what somehow survived was left to die a painful death, screeching, crying in pain as smoke rose above you and your dad.

You were dead. Both of you. You couldn’t even hope to match this. Your body went limp and you saw several teardrops falling from your face to the scorched ground. Wednesday told you Diego, Goody’s raiju was no match for Raijin, but you didn’t think the difference in power was this large. And you doubted he was even trying.

“Damn monster. If he took his time to charge that up he could easily destroy entire Nevermore grounds, school included,” your breath hitched as your dad said that, and this monster had something to do with Laurel’s plan, or so you and Wednesday guessed. You couldn’t even tell Wednesday to run, to find a way to get out of that mess, your phone was in the car, all you had left was the knife you got from Wednesday, strapped to your back.

“That’s your kid? Elijah?” you heard his voice, booming, powerful voice and dared to glance to the side as your dad lowered the two of you back to the ground. The monster took the hood of his cloak off, and he was exactly the way Wednesday described him. Spiky blue hair, long, flowing behind him, animalistic, angry-looking face, and pale blue eyes that sent chills down your spine. He still looked like he was around forty. And he looked like a giant, tall, easily taller than two meters, muscular, he towered over your dad.

“Raijin,” your dad spoke through gritted teeth, not even trying to attack, he just lowered you down to the ground and stood in front of you, your one last line of defense as you remained on your hands and knees, frozen. “I’ll do whatever you want, just let my daughter live,” he suggested, bargained, desperate, and the thunder god knew that.

He tilted his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. “Your arrogance amuses me. What could a beast ever offer to a god?” he raised his hand and you saw blue lightning gathering around his palm. “On second thought, you could die for her,” he lowered his hand and sat down.

“You promise you’ll let her live?” your dad asked and you stumbled to your feet, only for him to hold you back before you could get in front of him.

“Yes. There is one catch though. I choose how you die,” he vanished in a burst of lightning and appeared behind the two of you, just several feet away.

You didn’t even dare to look behind you. You kept your mouth shut, your brain desperately trying to come up with a way out of this, but nothing, absolutely nothing came to your mind. He was faster, stronger, even if you were as strong as your dad there would be nothing you could do.

“Tell me?” your dad requested, just as still as you.

“Easy. She kills you.”

The entire world shattered as those words registered in your mind.

He took a step closer to you and leaned down and you saw your father flinching, of all the things the monster could have asked for, he asked that of you. You watched as your father relaxed, he wasn’t even going to try to fight, this was it. “You hear that? You just have to kill your dad, and you’ll live. How lucky is that? Getting spared for the second time?”

You survive the second time, but the cost of your survival is your father’s life? Your eyes narrowed and you nodded. “It is lucky,” you said, took a deep breath and your eyes met his. “Let me shift. I want to make it as painless as possible. Dad’s lightning is stronger than mine, it’ll take a while to kill him unless I even things out by shifting,” from the corner of your eye you saw your father turning to look at you with a smile on his face. It was like he was already forgiving you, like the only regret he had about this was the fact that you would have to kill him.

Raijin laughed, genuinely laughed as he stepped away from you. “Of course, I shall grant you that wish. Say, child, how about you come with me. Work for me, do my biddings, be what you were meant to be! My beast!” he offered, clearly serious, seeing as your dad once more went stiff.

“Do I die if I say no?” you asked, just to be sure.

Raijin shrugged. “No, you don’t. You just get to live a long life, instead of dying the next time you see me. Besides, a tiger would fit in well with my beasts,” so, he wasn’t alone. Somehow you expected that.

“I won’t join you,” you rejected him, red sparks circling you as you prepared to shift.

“Y/N, forgive me for getting you in this situation. Don’t let this affect you, think of everyone else. Your mom, your friends, unless you kill me here, they’ll all suffer,” your dad said, his arms spread wide, accepting of your attack. Accepting this as his grave, this ruined, scorched remains of a forest.

You did think of them. Of your mom, of Enid, Thing, of Wednesday. Flashes of something you couldn’t remember came to your mind, her body leaning against yours, her eyes, the smile on her face, calling you ‘Mi Rayo’ and you wished you knew what it meant. You understood that was what happened the night after Crackstone was defeated, while you were depleted of electricity, the two of you nearly kissing. Her lips so close to yours, you could almost feel them brushing against your own. That’s what you forgot, that’s what hurt her, and you would apologize to her.

The red lightning turned orange and your body changed, shifting into your tiger form.

You were aware this time, for the most part, you understood what was going on around you, you knew what you had to do, and you gathered all of your lightning around your right paw. You watched as your father smiled and Raijin smirked right next to you.

And you swept your paw, claws out, lightning bursting from it, and slammed it right into Raijin’s chest.

“What are you doing?!” you heard your dad yelling as you discharged all the lightning you had and roared, putting more strength into your attack and sending him into a fallen tree. “Y/N!” your dad screamed your name as you charged at Raijin at full speed, lightning engulfing your body as you slammed into him and bit down on his arm before tossing him up and blasting him with several lightning strikes.

Yellow lightning burst from behind you and you saw your dad, once again in bear form zapping up and hitting Raijin from above, smacking him into the scorched ground just as you slammed your front paws on the ground in front of you and made the earth Raijin just landed on explode from a burst of lightning.

Your dad let lightning engulf his body entirely, easily looking three times as large as before as he struck Raijin, closing his jaw around the monster’s neck and trying to kill him while constantly electrocuting him and trying to paralyze him. But a single swipe of Raijin’s hand ended the struggle.

Your eyes widened as the golden lightning vanished, consumed by blue lightning, and you saw your dad falling toward Raijin, still in his bear form but clearly unable to zap out of the way. You zapped forward, slamming into him and getting him out of the way of blue lightning. You skidded across the ground, your legs not giving out despite the weight of the huge bear on your back.

“I have to admit,” Raijin sighed, opening his cloak and touching his chest. You could smell blood. “Though it wasn’t caused by lightning, the pure strength behind your attack was mildly impressive,” he was looking at his fingertips, at the drops of blood you managed to draw from his chest.

You roared, lightning bursting from your body. You would fight until your very last breath. Your dad could no longer fight, you just noticed his back legs were completely useless, burnt by the initial blast, and Raijin probably neutralized his strongest attack as if it was nothing. You were nothing as well, by that logic, but you would keep going.

You saw blue sparks and jumped above the ground, dodging a blast from the ground, the same kind of attack you used just now. You kept jumping, just barely dodging the bursts of lightning with your father still on your back. At least he shifted back into his human form. “There’s no use, you’ll tire yourself out,” he gave up, he completely, entirely gave up.

How you wished you could talk in this form, instead, all you could do was roar at him, and that split second of distraction was enough, your dad took the burnt of the damage by jumping of your back and in front of the blast, but you still got hit, and the pain so intense you instantly went back to your human form consumed you. You felt lightning ripping through you, leaving deep wounds on your chest as the two of you fell to the ground. Mortally wounded, bleeding out, and at Raijin’s mercy.

You had it easy though, you saw your dad’s left arm was gone, as well as a good portion of his chest. He was no longer breathing, he couldn’t be saved! “Damn it!” you slammed your fist on the ground as you stumbled back onto your feet.

“Passing grade for effort,” Raijin told you, not even taunting the two of you, just genuinely praising your attempt to stay alive. You watched as an orb of lightning gathered in front of his palm and gritted your teeth.

You still had some strength left, if this was going to obliterate you, you’d at the very least give it one last try. You raised both of your hands, an orb of red lightning forming in front of you.

“Ridiculous. I guess you are still somewhat human, you just won’t give up,” he smirked and threw the ball of lightning toward you.

With a defiant roar you hurled your own lightning right at it and sent several lightning bolts after it. The two orbs of lightning collided, but yours wasn’t consumed right away, they clashed in the middle, lightning crackling around them, ground splitting as red and blue mixed together and you felt your own strength skyrocketing. You felt lightning bursting all around you, consuming you, burning your wounds closed, strengthening you, as you pushed back against Raijin’s blue lightning. And bit by bit red absorbed blue, turning purple in the process. The lightning between you and Raijin exploded and you stumbled back and fell onto the ground.

~X~

He sighed, the few scratches from the explosion stinging for an entirely different reason. “In the end your body couldn’t handle it,” he approached you, your wounds closed, but you couldn’t survive the sudden increase in power. “Your fang did reach me, stubborn tiger. Rest easy, I’ll let your loved ones grieve in peace,” he crouched down next to your body and closed your eyes. “How tragic is it, to see potential squandered for the sake of dogged ideals of love,” he took out a phone, not to taunt the girl, but to let her know she lost her raiju, and he sent the video, proof of your demise.

~X~

Wednesday heard her phone beeping again as she stepped inside her home. It was dreadfully familiar, the smell, the sound of her footsteps, the entire house looked just the way it did when she left. Not that it surprised her, the house was more or less the same as it was years ago, let alone the brief time she spent at Nevermore.

She pulled her phone out of her bag as she took her shoes off, you would probably reach your own destination by now. And you did promise to send her a text and though she refused to be a slave to technology she did figure this was a convenient way to handle brief communication. Instead of a text message she saw some kind of media attachment and clicked on it.

Her eyes widened as her family came into the hall to greet her. But her eyes were glued on the phone and she just barely felt Thing on her shoulder. He froze on her shoulder, and she realized she wasn’t seeing things.

“Wednesday?” her mother spoke up, but Wednesday didn’t respond.

She just watched the video, your body, covered in blood, next to your father, both of you clearly dead.

“Lurch get back in the car!” she yelled, putting her shoes back on and rushing outside, her bag forgotten on the floor as her family went after her.

~X~

Elijah managed to roll onto his stomach and drag his body closer to you once Raijin was gone. He was dead. His heart stopped, he wasn’t breathing, he bled out, his body was completely dead, and he couldn’t move anything aside from his right arm and head.

Everything in the body functioned through brain signals, and those were electrical impulses, so as long as his brain still worked he could somewhat function. But he was running out of time. Once heart stopped beating he only had three to four minutes left, and with each passing minute his capabilities would be severely worsened. He still needed to keep you alive. You wouldn’t bleed out, your wounds were for the most part closed, he just needed to get your heart beating again. So, with what little time he had left he raised his bloody palm above your heart and sent lightning to your heart.

He looked at you, at your unmoving body. No matter what you weren’t dying with him here! He was your father, he was supposed to protect you, yet even with him there you still got this hurt! He failed as a father, but he would not let you die, his lightning gradually restarted your heart, slowly forcing your brain to send signals to the stopped organ once more, until your heart began steadily beating and he saw you breathing, each breath was shallow, but you were alive.

Raiju resilience would do the rest, you’d recover, stronger than ever before. He only wished he could speak and tell you how proud of you he was, how much he loved you, and how much he wished he could have given you a normal family, with both parents present in your life instead of the way things ended up.

In the end, him fleeing, hiding from Raijin didn’t keep you safe.

He raised his hand, brushing some dust from your face with the back of his finger. You’d be fine, you were stronger than loss. ‘Grieve, cry, process all the emotions however you want, but then get up and keep on living’ if he could have, that’s what his last words to you would be.

He pushed away from you and his right arm fell onto the ground, about a foot away from you and he closed his eyes, his brain shutting down completely. His life flashed in front of his eyes. His childhood, his first shift, his time at Nevermore, meeting Anna, your birth, it was a good life, he wished for more time with you, with your mother, but he was content knowing you were still alive.

And so, Elijah, raiju that shifted into golden bear, died, the last act of his life saving the life of his daughter.

A/N: I need season 2! Until then 3 or 4 chapters of Woe out the Storm, just to resolve the cliffhanger from the chapter 15. Gimme thoughts!

Story masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Taglist: @brocoliisscared @alexkolax

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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zivazivc · 9 months ago

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Sorry if this has already been asked before but why did the band break up? And did they break up on decent terms? Do they still talk to each other sometime?

It has been asked before, I just never answered jshfbdjcbh I'm still piecing everything together and stuff is changing or getting tweaked all the time, so I'm always super hesitant about answering these types of questions, afraid that people will take whatever I say as the final answer. So basically what I'm going to answer now will already contradict what I told some people already. And maybe in the future the story might go a little differently too (although I'm pretty satisfied with the current events)

Uhhh, get ready for a long info dump. I didn't expect I'd write this much...

Floyd basically stayed with the band for 8 years (from 14 till 22) and got pretty messed up in the process. The rest of the guys are all quite older than him so I guess I could say they were more responsible, or at least had a better understanding of their own limits (also they grew up in this kind of environment or grew up aware of it, while Floyd was oblivious and naive about all of it) and while they do get drunk and do drugs often, none of them are really dependent on them. They are also pretty good judges of character and know how to avoid trouble. Floyd on the other hand drove in with no breaks and constantly got himself in trouble that the rest (mostly Les) had to drag him out of. He also developed bipolar during this time (in my story Floyd constantly fluctuates between being saturated and being desaturated because of this) and his manic and depressive episodes started getting out of hand after his teenage years. (None of them are aware it's a mental disorder that's making him act so out of character.)

Floyd was becoming miserable because of this and all of his problems pilling up, and started blaming Les for the way he was. Les never argued this which only fueled Floyd to blame him more. In the end he was getting so frustrated and irritable that Floyd constantly tried starting arguments with him, even putting him down and getting aggressive at times because Les gets very unresponsive and closed off during personal conversations (guy is a giant onion of suppressed trauma that Floyd is hellbent on peeling open).

Eventually there was one fight too many, terrible things were said, some objects flew through the air, and Floyd walked out (or Hed kicked him out, I haven't decided yet) with the promise of going home and never seeing them again.

So, yeah, it was very messy and Floyd was the primary asshole, even though he's not really to blame either...

But Floyd didn't make it home (was too scared to sneak through Bergen Town to get to the tree (i don't think i can judge him for that either)) and he just returned to the reckless lifestyle, this time without anyone being there to keep him safe. So if he was messed up before, this is the time period where he got absolutely fucked up. This is also when he got heavily addicted to sour worms. And when he chronically slept around (half the time just to get offered free worms or have somewhere to sleep, other times because he was having manic episodes and was feeling hypersexual). (This is also potentially the period when he had the two eggs with that techno troll, but I'm still thinking if I want that to be canon to the story or not.) During this time he also grew to become very anxious and his self-confidence went to shit when he was being himself.

Then after about three years of that, he bumped into Les at some party. He wanted to dodge him out of shame but Les grabbed his arm and manhandled him outside to talk. Floyd felt like shit about the way they had split up and tried apologizing for all the stuff he had said and done to Les, but Les wasn't having any of that because he wasn't angry at Floyd, he was just worried about him. Les is also insanely empathetic like Floyd, and he knew that Floyd never really meant any of it, and that he was just looking for an outlet when he was hurting. Also he does think he is to blame for the way Floyd ended up.

Les wanted to know why he didn't go home like he had said (because that was the only reason Les had even let him walk out in the first place). A few exchanged words later and Floyd broke down telling him all the awful things he'd done, and Les promised to help him, feeling insanely guilty. Floyd wondered if he was allowed back in the band but Les made it clear that the band wasn't good for him and that he was never taking him back. Instead Les helped him go though rehab. I don't think trolls have those institutions (or at least not many are aware of them or how they work (I'm sorry but I refuse to believe the Trolls world has internet and cellphones, Mountrageons can keep that for themselves lol)), so it was more or less just Les finding Floyd a job and his own place to stay in the middle of bumfuck nowhere where he had no option but to detox, and constantly checking up on him to make sure he was doing okay. During this time they grew pretty close again. Or maybe the better term would be that Les slowly started putting his walls down again.

Hed needed a while to warm up to Floyd again. He's almost as protective of Les as Les is of him, and he resented Floyd for the way he had treated him.

Flea is pretty phlegmatic when it comes to any sort of arguing or drama. He was casual about seeing Floyd again, they were never super close anyway.

And Liv, she left the band when she and Hed broke up (haven't decided if that happened before or after Floyd left), so Floyd didn't get to see her again after bumping into Les at the party. And I haven't thought yet if they'd ever meet again somewhere later in life. But if they did, I think they'd both be happy to see each other.

Anyway...

Floyd managed to detox and successfully kept the job for about a year, but then he became manic again and messed it all up. After that he returned to his nomadic lifestyle, but he never fell as hard as those three years again. In my story Floyd's life is a constant cycle of getting his life together and fucking it up and booking to the next place. And he and Les are trapped in a never-ending cat and mouse game where they're both trying to fix each other.

So, uh, Les and Floyd are still very close and see each other somewhat often...

(sometimes monthly, sometimes yearly)

Yeah...

I am so fucking obsessed with them I'm gonna hurl. Please take this song before I combust:

youtube

#btw the status of Floyd's and Les's relationship is forever set on 'complicated'#but they are as obsessed with each other as i am obsessed with them #the song is too soft and vulnerable to be something les would sing out loud but inside he does feel it #papa roach is nu metal btw. tho idk where this song stands exactly #trolls #dreamworks trolls #ex bandmates #trolls floyd #trolls oc #les #answered #my art #btw I am only self educated on the bipolar disorder from what i've read and watched on the internet so have that in mind #my intention is to be respectful but i might not understand all of it. especially not the personal experience of those who have it #i'm just some random nerd #so in a way you could say floyd was diagnosed by a nonprofessional lol #i stayed up until 3am last night writing this #today i made the sketch that is no longer a sketch #should i put this post under a cut? it is pretty long #long post

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reverie-starlight · 1 year ago

Text

fluffy hawks drabble-turned-mini-fic because i love him. if you think the feather necklace trope is overused, this is probably not the place for you. also important to note: let’s say for the sake of my sanity that this takes place before seasons 5/6, okay? I know what's up in the manga, I'm just ignoring it to be happy :)

fem!reader, no physical descriptions aside from wearing dresses + enjoying it and reader could be perceived as chubby, but no explicit mentions of body type!! shopping for clothes is just hard and it’s briefly reflected on in this. lots of soft fluff. pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, etc) I just got a bunch of cute dresses and now I'm gonna make it hawks' problem. this is like. disgustingly soft and so incredibly self indulgent avert your eyes. please. very smiley and giggly. a bit suggestive at the end bc I have no self-control.

soft laughter and the sound of rustling sheets were the only noises heard in your shared bedroom that afternoon. surprisingly enough for both of you, keigo had finished his patrol early and caught you on the way up to your apartment. almost immediately after walking in and getting your shoes and coats off, he had grabbed you and sped off to your room, dropping you on the bed and launching an attack.

you were both so happy to have some extra time together that it boosted your energy immensely, resulting in a impromptu play fight. it wasn't very often that you got to be so playful anymore with things picking up for him at work. you were both still young, so when you got the chance to act like it, you definitely took it.

"keigo!" you shrieked as he pressed a slew of quick, light kisses over your face and down your neck. a ticklish sensation was left in their wake, even more so because of his facial hair. he just chuckled and rubbed his face against your skin to draw out more laughter. feathers flew around and brushed against your cheeks and other places he couldn't focus his attention on.

his arms were wrapped tightly around your waist to limit your movements, but you still squirmed around to try and get the upper hand. eventually, after a few more kisses to your chest and stomach, he loosened his grip to give you a fighting chance and you flipped on top of him, making sure not to hurt his wings, which ruffled in excitement.

"so what are you gonna do with me now, sweetheart?" he grinned up at you, eyes positively glowing with mirth.

you felt your own gaze go soft and cupped his face with your hands, rubbing your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. "I dunno," you murmured, keeping your voice low in volume and sweet in its delivery.

your eyes wandered over his features, admiring him in the golden rays of sun coming from your window. "you're so pretty, keigo..."

he went a little red but smiled softly. "that's my line, angel," and then he leaned up to steal another kiss from you.

eventually you both settled down, laying in bed together and talking about your days. keigo told you about having to chase down a bank robber and some purse snatchers, and how a little old lady asked for help getting her cat down from a tree. you snickered at the thought.

the atmosphere turned serene as you both laid there. you were close enough that your breaths mixed and your foreheads touched, his hands absentmindedly running over your soft skin and the curves of your body. "so how was your day?" he whispered.

"it was okay. I had a shorter day at work, so I went shopping and I got some new clothes..." you sat up and walked over to where the bags were discarded before he tossed you on the bed. "want to see them?"

he whined a little when you walked away but quickly sat up as well, nodding his head at the second part. "I'd never pass up the chance to see you trying on clothes, baby, who exactly do you take me for?"

you smiled and shook your head fondly. "alright, alright. sit tight, I'll be back," you said and headed to the connecting bathroom, ignoring his grumbling about how you were depriving him of getting to see the best part.

and when you came back out, in a pretty little sundress, twirling so he could get the full effect, he stared at you in awe.

he knew from past shopping trips and many teary conversations with you that finding clothes you actually felt confident in could be… difficult. of course he thought you looked amazing in everything, and if he had it his way, he’d buy every single outfit you even glanced at, but there was just something so alluring about seeing you happy and proud in clothes you felt good in.

“such a pretty girl…” he murmured to no one in particular. it looked a bit like he was in a trance as he took in your figure. attempting to hold back a shy smile from forming at his words, you looked down at the ground to keep yourself from getting too flustered.

he grinned and held his hand out for you once your eyes met his again. taking it, he gently pulled you towards him to stand in between his legs and rested his chin on your sternum, not once breaking eye contact. his hands moved to toy with the hem of your dress.

“I mean it, you’re absolutely stunning. the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on... my pretty girl.”

you couldn’t hold back your smile this time and he adored the way your lips curled upwards, how your eyes flitted around the room, staring at anything but him, clearly affected by his words.

he sent a feather out to tilt your chin back towards him and he was suddenly reminded of something.

“ah right- I have something for you,” he dug something out of his pocket and proudly presented you with what looked like a thin brown faux leather string…

with a bright red feather attached to it.

you gasped and took the item into your hands, closely inspecting it. you treated it with the utmost care, as if it were your most prized possession. it very well might’ve been.

the string had a clasp at the back to make it easier to put on and remove, and it looped around the... stem? bone? (you made a mental note to clarify with keigo later) of the feather multiple times. it was secured with a thin silver wire to ensure it wouldn’t slip out before the rope continued on to the other end of the hook.

he actually had one of his feathers turned into a necklace for you.

“keigo, I… this is incredible, oh my goodness!” you beamed at him and leaned down to properly hug him.

he was incredibly perceptive. of course he knew that all those times you had jokingly asked him about keeping one of his feathers with you were actually silent requests. even if you’d never outright ask him, he could tell you longed to have a piece of him with you. especially when he had to wipe your tears before a long mission and you stared longingly at his wings. he took pride in the fact that you found comfort in them.

who was he to deny the love of his life? what’s one feather from his arsenal gone, anyway? it was going towards the cause of making you happy, and most importantly, there was the added bonus of keeping you safe.

“here, let me put it on for you,” he said, gesturing for you to sit on his lap and hand him the necklace.

you got settled and he happily clasped the ends of the string together at the back of your neck. the bottom of the feather rested just above the neckline of your dress and you touched it gingerly.

as soon as it rested against your skin, he took control of it and ran it across your cheek, making you giggle and pull away a bit.

“thank you, keigo, I love it.” you turned around on his lap to face him and pressed your lips against his.

he hummed into the kiss and pulled away with a sly smile. “of course, baby. besides,” he toyed with one of the straps on your shoulder. “it goes with your new dress, don’t you think?”

you put your arms around his shoulders, gently stroking the arches of his wings and nodded in agreement. he placed his hands on the tops of your thighs and gently squeezed. “wanna see if it goes with my other dresses, too?”

“oh, absolutely. but..." he shifted a bit and pulled you closer, so that you were fully pressed against him. "I don't think I've appreciated this one enough... what do you think?" he slowly trailed his eyes up from your legs to meet yours.

you tilted your neck forward to rest your forehead against his. "I think that you'll find some of the other things I bought more interesting than a sundress, keigo."

his sly smile turned into something more eager and you laughed when he dramatically flopped backwards on the bed with a groan. "you're too good for me, angel, seriously. what did I ever do to deserve you?"

you offered him a shrug and a tiny smile of your own. "exist."

his eyes widened a fraction and you could tell that your words deeply affected him from the way they welled up. he cleared his throat to cover up any emotion in his voice and sat up again to cup your cheek, murmuring "sweet girl, you'd better hurry up and try on those other dresses, because if you're not off my lap in three seconds, I'm gonna pounce, and we're not leaving this room 'til we're both spent."

butterflies erupted within you and he watched fondly as you gasped and ran off to keep your little fashion show up and running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

the following days after receiving his gift were... not surprising in the slightest.

you always knew when keigo was taking a break or in his office doing paperwork because he took every opportunity to bug you with his (your) feather.

every. single. one.

and you also knew before he even had the necklace made that if he were to ever give you one, this would likely happen. he was a menace, after all. part of his charm, he always said.

at first it was a bit embarrassing having to fight with a feather in front of your coworkers (who weren't aware you were dating a pro hero, so they probably thought you were some fangirl who bought faulty, cheap merch of his), but it very quickly became endearing.

cause yeah, if he knew you were going to be around people he'd make life difficult for you and then take all of your whines and complaints with a mischievous grin when he walked through the door, clearly lying when he said he'd take it down a notch.

but when he knew you were alone? or having a particularly stressful day? all you had to do was lightly tug on the necklace. upon your signal, he'd immediately take control of the feather and bring it up to caress your cheek, run along your neck or tap your nose.

honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way. you adored his playful side, and he knew he could get away with most things via feather necklace. even if it was only because you were too flustered to scold him for anything anymore by time he got back. complaints soon turned into requests for cuddles and wanting to return all the affection you received.

the feather necklace was a gift for you, sure, but it definitely benefitted him as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I edited this super quickly, so apologies if there's any mistakes! I'll find them eventually when I look back at this fic and end up contemplating my choices to post without properly editing :')

hope you enjoyed!! <3

#hawks x reader #hawks x fem!reader #hawks x reader fluff #keigo takami x reader #hawks fluff #keigo takami x reader fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader fluff #mha x reader fluff #fem!reader

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bitchinbarzal · 1 year ago

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see you again | J.Hughes

summary: all he wants to do is see you again.

Jack was weirdly quiet the whole morning. From coming down to breakfast late, to not talking when everyone was debating their plans for the day and when they eventually agreed on a boat day he just shrugged and walked up to his room.

“What’s up with him?” Luke asks, the question is directed at Alex who’s sharing a room with Jack.

Alex shrugs “He was freaking out this morning when he woke up, like he was looking for someone in the room? He was so annoyed I woke him up”

Everyone frowns, confused by the behaviour and thinking of a reason until Cole speaks

“You know it’s his first time back here since she left”

Everyone looks down the table at him, a slight look of disbelief he’d say that and Cole says “What?! It is! I’m just saying that could be why he’s being sketchy”

Quinn rolls his eyes and adds “Jack’s fine, he’s probably just moody or something girl troubles from back in Jersey. He’s finally come to terms with it so don’t bring it back up”

The oldest brothers stern voice told everyone what they needed to know — don’t bring it up.

The rest of the day consisted of Jack sulking around while everyone tried their best to ignore it.

His brothers were becoming slightly worried about him, sharing glances through the day while his friends were trying to listen to Quinn and leave it alone.

They had docked the boat back up and Jack made his way back to the house immediately, not so much as sharing a glance with anyone.

After doing what they had to do with the boat Trevor decided to follow him into the house, finding him in the basement.

Jack was facing the wall where the cinema projected would usually play movies onto, the wall however now was black alongside most of the room.

“Hey man, you good?”

Jack doesn’t turn around when he answers “I saw her in my dream”

“What?”

“Y/N, i saw her in my dream last night and I got real pissed off with Alex because he woke me up and now I can’t see her anymore”

Trevor sighs and sits next to his friend on the couch “She’s gone Jack”

“I know that”

“You gotta-“

Jack turns to his friend and let’s put a frustrated noise “I know she’s gone! I know that Trevor but I miss her, she just left and I have never gotten over—“

Jack’s rant was interrupted by his friend throwing his hands down on the couch “She’s gone Jack, there was nothing we could do that night”

Jack sinks back into the couch cushions “It was my fault, we fought”

Trevor sighs, sitting on the arm of the couch. That night haunted everyone for months after it happened. You and Jack had fought about a girl that Trevor had brought to the lake house, your jealousy got the best of you at the party the boys had thrown and you guys had a fight.

You ended up storming off but being in the middle of nowhere you decided to drive.

It was stupid and Jack went after you immediately, only to find your car sitting in a ditch down the street where you’d crashed into a tree.

Jack left Michigan soon after that, he didn’t go to the funeral, he didn’t meet your parents for dinner when they flew to jersey to watch him play.

He felt so guilty.

His trauma had blocked you from his mind so much so he had started to forget things about you, like your smile, the colour of your eyes or the perfume you wore.

He was forgetting you. He didn’t want to forget you.

“Jack it was nobody’s fault, shit happens she wouldn’t want you to be this upset”

“I don’t know what she’d want because I can’t really remember much about her” Jack mumbles, playing with his fingers.

“She was your best friend” Trevor started “she loved you, weirdly she chose you over me but whatever I’m not salty”

Jack laughs at that, you’d met at a party in Plymouth when the boys were in the USNTDP and Trevor spent the entire night flirting with you only to go home with Jack.

The two spent the night talking about you, joined by the rest of the house later who joined in on the chat. From funny first meeting stories, remembering your weird quirks and Luke telling the story of the time you accidentally kissed him good morning infront of the Hughes’ because you were so tired and mistakened him for Jack.

Jack felt good for the first time, like he knew you better but it wasn’t enough.

When everyone had fallen asleep Jack got up and walked upstairs, grabbing his keys and getting in his car.

He sat there staring out the front window gripping onto the steering wheel while looking at the road, he can’t see the brick wall that was there now, where your car had tipped.

His hands fall down to the ignition and the engine comes alive. He flips down the sun visor, the picture of you smiling sweetly staring back at him.

“I’m coming baby, I’ll see you real soon”

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl imagine

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moriartyluver · 8 months ago

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Hello! May I request a fluff drabble or one-shot of William and his noblewoman wife being at a ball and sneaking away to the garden (or anywhere private) and they’re giggling because of the thrill of having to hide from some of their noble ‘friends’ while sneaking away and William is teasing and flirting with her the whole time<333

A/N: this got me blushing an kicking my feet alsjalsjdjlsskj. It’s absolutely adorable and I hope I did you justice anon! ALSO ALSO ALSO PLEASE SEND ME SOME ASKS. IVE CLEARED THROUGH ALL MY ASKS AND IM REALLY BORED + IM NEARLY AT 500 FOLLOWERS SO SEND IDEAS FOR AN EVENT.

Character(s): William James Moriarty x fem! Reader

Format: oneshot

Prompt: sneaking away from a ball with Liam

Genre: (tooth rotting) fluff, slightly suggestive

Warnings: nothing really I suppose. Fem! Reader. Reader is a noblewoman. Reader is liam’s wife.

“YOU ARE CERTAIN that nobody saw us leave the hall, right, my love..?” You asked you lover who was walking backwards, holding both your hands in his as you sneaked away from the ball.

It was no secret that the two of you could find such gatherings excruciatingly boring. You and your husband had jokingly threatened to run away multiple times that night, until it eventually became your reality only an hour or two later.

“Oh why bother about them,” he smiled as he leaned closer to you, planting a gentle kiss to your lips “I have you all to myself now, do I not?I may as well take advantage of being alone with you for what seems like the first time tonight..~”

Heat creeps up onto your cheeks as he kisses you once more, this time slightly longer than before.

“I suppose you are right..but I would rather not cause a scandal whilst hiding..” you sighed as William brushed a strand of hair away from your face, admiring your beauty in the moonlight

“Does that not add to the thrill of it, darling?” He asks, kissing your cheek, a teasing smile on his face as he backs away, still holding your hand as he clasped his free one over your eyes. The two of you continue to sneak around the gardens whilst the other nobles ‘enjoy’ the party inside. Honestly you were thankful that, because of William, you weren’t currently amongst them. God they could be so insufferable.

You hummed in agreement “it does indeed. Still, you’ve not mentioned where exactly you plan on taking me, dearest.” You commented, relishing in the feeling of the grass beneath your feet, brushing softly against your ankles as William guided you through a strange little passageway, shielded by trees which shone in the moonlight.

“Just give me a moment, (Name). Relax and enjoy the walk.” He said, rubbing his thumb against the back of your gloved palm reassuringly. “Did you notice how distant Lord Beresford’s wife was from him this afternoon? Perhaps a little birdie had informed her of his illegitimate family with one of the maids, at least that’s what I heard.”

“William!” You gasp in a mixture of shock and amusent, “How could you do such a thing!” You exclaimed, fighting back a laugh that would be loud enough to give both of you away

“You of all people should know I’m much more under the surface,” William smiled innocently “Much more.”

“I’m aware.” You said as William paused in his steps, “I think if any member of the ton heard of your true nature, they’d feel most faint. Apart from Albert, we know what he’s like.”

You could hear William chuckle softly as she stood behind you, his warm breath against your ear “Be careful, sweetheart, I might get carried away if you keep teasing me like this.” He whispered, slowly removing his hand from over your eyes.

You blink for a moment, adjusting to the soft lighting. There before you was the most beautiful scene you could possibly imagine. A tranquil pond in the forest reflecting the surrounding greenery. Water lilies bloomed along the edges, while dragonflies flew gracefully above. There was the faint sound of croaking, coming from the small frogs on lily pads.

“You’re always been fond of a beautiful environment,” he said as he stood in front of you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear “Particularly at night…” William kissed your temple “I love you.”

Although William was incredibly infatuated of you, he didn’t use that term sparingly. He believed that if he could show his love for you in his actions, that was worth more than a casual ‘I love you’ in a passing moment. They were such strong words, only to be used if they needed to. He knew that.

You smiled up at him “I love you too.”

He leaned forwards, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I really do love you.” He murmured before kissing you again “every part of you..”

“I do too,” Your hands found themselves in his soft blond hair

“Mm..not as much as I love you, though,” he smiled against your lips, kissing you once more

You couldn’t help but laugh like a child as he did so. “What’s brought this about?” You asked as you cupped his cheeks in your hands

“Is it a crime to show your beautiful wife that you love her?” He said with a faux offended expression

“Well you aren’t exactly a law abiding citizen.” You kiss him again, lips upturned in a smug expression.

#—a’s anons 💄#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #mtp william #—a’s asks 💌

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lilacgaby · 2 months ago

Note

Your stories are wonderful ♥️♥️

I couldn't stop reading ✨✨

I was thinking about a fantasy AU, where we have the big dragon bakugou and his tiny fairy friend a Tinkerbelk vibe lol

And what would their routine be like, perhaps scaring away some treasure hunters?

I love your stories ♥️✨

dragonking!katsuki was the most feared king in all the lands. he was strong, wielding a sword he welded with his own flames, magic stronger than a clan of witches, and unforeseen knowledge that always gave him an edge.

how did he get this knowledge you ask? it was a secret to most, however.. only his most trusted dragonknight knew it was because of his pocket-sized fairy, you.

you wore a flower dress of your favorite color, always glowing and shimmery because of the fairy dust you used to keep yourself healthy and flying. you'd found katsuki when he was a prince, he was teary eyed as he sat out in the gardens, upset that his childhood rival had been revealed to have royal blood.

you were lost, still in a white, orchid gown as you slowly flew around, eventually landing on his knee. he eyed you oddly, jumping slightly when you landed on him. though, as he examined you further, he realized that he was being touched by a real fairy. something he'd only heard about in tales he'd hear at night. you spoke to him, though at first he could only hear a bell sound.

he saw you looked frustrated, until smacking your forehead with a "duh!" and flying up to sprinkle him with some fairy dust. after a bit of confusion, he kept his red eyes locked onto you as you cleared your throat. "can you hear me now?" you said, making him speechless. he managed a nod and you continued.

"i don't really know how to get back to my hollow so.. can i stay with you?" you asked, shyly putting one leg behind the other at your request. he sputtered, before managing a, "t-that's cool, fairy girl."

"it's actually [name] random guy!"

"okay [name], uh-- katsuki's fine."

he soon realized not everyone could hear you, and you explained that the fairy dust you used was too valuable to let just everyone use it. he smirked though, happy that he'd be special to you.

you were there as he was sent off on his crowning journey, telling him where to find the best loot, the best resting places you'd remember, and even how to scavenge for food. you'd keep him company through the uncomfortable nights, and he'd carry you in his gloved hands during winter, since your wing's would freeze over.

he'd make you tiny leaf beds and let you sleep a safe distance from his head, he'd make sure you ate and would take you to collect pixie dust from the various trees you'd remember.

with your help, he was the first successful one of all the heirs to help awaken the crimson dragon, officially crowning him king.

he celebrated with you, treating you to maple syrup and finding you the best flowers to finally make you a new dress, topping it all of with a baby's breath crown.

you were always on his shoulder, always hidden by the fur coat he'd adorn. people would find the king randomly smiling as he heard your jokes or comments, but when questioned he'd slam his fist.

the casual day for you two would usually be hunting for treasure. for some reason, fairies were hardwired with amazing intuition that was always correct, so you were like his own metal detector. he'd hold you close to him, a habit he formed after you were snatched out of the sky once by a hawk, and you'd point in the direction you'd need to go.

when he arrived, seeing the pirates already in process of looting the place, he'd ready his magic, whispering to you to get under his coat. he fought off the 20 some men alone, leaving with not only the treasure in the cave, but on the pirates ship too.

as he called his village people to come get their share of the fair amount of treasure, he smiled softly at you, who was now eating some more maple candy he'd got for you on top of his thumb.

he owed it all to you, his fairy.

can you tell i loved this req??? ty for the support always <3

#AAAA i loved tinker bell so this req was like.. perfect #lilac asks❤︎︎#dragonking!bakugo #fairy!reader #tinkerbell!reader #bakugo drabble #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #katsuki x you #mha x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo oneshot

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openpandorabox · 2 years ago

Text

end of the beginning - part 2

neteyam x omaticaya! reader part one here!

requested! *this was requested, i just accidentally deleted the request from my submission box!*

summary: it's been months since you last saw the sully's, but in a time of need, you somehow find your way back to each other and back to neteyam, possibly finding your forever in the process.

warnings: violence, mentions of guns, injury, a character almost dying

notes: fluff, angst, hurt boy neteyam

word count: 4.1k (holy damn)

!reader is the same age as neteyam!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The days blurred into months.

Following the departure of the Sully’s, everything just seemed empty. You felt like you had been running on auto-pilot, pretending that there wasn’t a chunk of you missing since they left without even the utterance of a goodbye.

You felt betrayed, how could you not? The family who had taken you in had left you so easily, just based off one persons request. Someone should have fought for you, the same way you always did for them.

Above everything though, you just missed them.

You missed Tuk’s excessive nagging at you to play with her, you missed being dragged around by Lo’ak for whatever trouble he was up to, you missed Kiri’s advice and her hugs, and you missed Net-

It hurt to even think about him. Every time his name popped into your head, you’d push it out with all your might. If you sat and let it linger, you knew you’d fall into a bottomless pit of grief.

So, you did whatever you could to distract yourself. You invested more time into hunting. You had become the best hunter of your age group. You explored your creative side. You made neckpieces, arm bracelets and ionar’s for other Omaticaya people. You even made one of Mo’at’s Tsahìk statement pieces. But every night, you would go home to your lonely hut, and you’d reminisce and desperately ask Eywa why they had left you.

Eventually, you realised being in the place that reminded you of everything you lost was detrimental to your mental health. You couldn’t heal if you were surrounded by the memories of what your life once was.

So, one day, you readied your ikran, and you left with what little personal items you had to seek a new home, somewhere that wasn’t like the forest. Where the trees couldn’t remind you of Lo’ak climbing them to scare people as they walked past. Where the long grass couldn’t remind you of Kiri hibernating in it, atokirina swarming her body. Where the dirt and mud couldn’t remind you of making mud pies with Tuk. Where the empty Sully hut couldn’t remind you of your fight with Neteyam, where he confessed his love for you and flew off into the sun only an hour later.

You found yourself with the Metkayina clan and your new home became the Ta’unui village. Unbeknownst to you, you were so close to the Sully’s.

You were trained as a Metkayina, and you were a natural with the ocean. You could already hold your breath for long periods of time underwater, and you were a strong swimmer despite your skinny arms and tail. You fit right in, and you were at peace with where you were.

Then one day, the sky people arrived, they looked like Na’vi, but they wore soldier uniforms, had guns and knives strapped to their waist. They burnt your marui’s and pushed your Tsahìk’s face into the sand, all in search of Jake Sully.

You were out at the time. Every now and then you’d take your ikran for a fly around the reef because honestly, you missed it. Thank God you were gone, you weren’t sure what could’ve happened to the people if you were there and Spider saw you.

That’s when you realised how close to them you were. But you wouldn’t look for them, refused to. If they could let you go so easily, you would too.

More time passed, it got to the point where you could go a whole day without thinking about the two families you had lost.

You loved exploring the ocean, almost as much as you loved flying.

The smile on your face was hard to miss as you rode your ilu through the water, eyes catching onto every colourful piece of coral, every sign of life, the bioluminescence that shined so brightly, even under water.

All of a sudden, the water vibrated. It was minimal. Barely noticeable, you almost missed it. But you definitely felt it. You travelled the waters long enough to know it wasn’t normal. You bring yourself to the surface, curiously looking around at your surroundings, and then you see it. In the far distance, flames and smoke.

Your heart sinks. Is that another village being torched? You look back in the direction of your home, pondering whether you should just turn around and go back like you saw nothing, but you knew the guilt would eat you alive.

“Damnit.” You whisper, clicking your tongue at your ilu until it dives back into the water, taking you in the direction of the fire.

Once you got closer to the scene, you realised it wasn’t a village on fire. It was a ship inhabited by sky people. You knew what it was for. The Metkayina had told you stories about these demon ships.

You look around at the sinking ship from a distance. You can barely make out the colonel that torched your village on an ikran, shooting at something in the water. You see another ikran, but you can’t make out the rider.

You ride as close as you can, enough that you can’t be seen, but enough where you don’t have to swim for twenty minutes to get to the ship. You dismount your ilu under the water and it swims away. Slowly and carefully, you rise to the surface, covering your mouth in shock. It’s an all out war. Na’vi fighting sky people. You see demon boats, exo suits, guns and arrows. And so much fire.

You swim underwater (which was a bit of a struggle since you had your bow) to the ship and you sneak on.

You immediately have to take out a solider who spotted you, shooting an arrow straight through his chest and watching his lifeless body drop to the ground. It has been a long time since you killed somebody.

You stay crouched, navigating your way through the sinking ship, steering clear of other soldiers. All of a sudden, you hear a voice. A very familiar voice. You duck behind a pole, regaining your breath before you poke your head out, and the sight pulls a sob from deep within your body.

Lo’ak and Neteyam.

“They’ve got spider. We’ve gotta get him. Come on!” You hear Lo’ak say to his brother, who begins to shake his head. “Come on, bro. We can’t leave him!”

Neteyam lets out a frustrated growl, but then he chases after his brother, right in your direction. You quickly squat down, staying close against the pole as they pass you and head further down into the ship without seeing you.

You sit with your back against the pole, feeling months worth of suppressed emotions coming up. Your face scrunches up as you cry, head dropping into your hands.

You’re only allowed to feel for a few seconds, because the sound of footsteps heading towards you becomes more apparent, so you push yourself onto your knees, readying your bow.

When you see another sky person, you don’t hesitate to shoot them before crawling over to their body to retrieve your arrow. You look in the direction Neteyam and Lo’ak went in. You knew they could be in trouble, but was it your place to rescue them?

With a growl, you rip your arrow from the lifeless body and follow them. Sometimes you were too loyal.

You struggle to navigate your way through the sinking ships many aisles, so instead, you rely on your hearing. Your ears twitch as you listen in for any slight sounds, but you jump out of your body when gunshots come from nearby. You immediately fear for their lives and jump into action, running to the source of the sound to see Lo’ak and Spider jumping into a pool of water, barely missing multiple gun shots. You angle your body closer to the rail of the deck, spotting Neteyam hiding behind a wall, gun in his hand as he ponders the best moment to flee. You hiss quietly. He was always the brother to stay back to protect Lo’ak.

You take a deep breath in, drawing your bow at your side, waiting for any danger to cover him from.

He pokes his gun from behind the wall and shoots at nothing in particular before sprinting towards the water, narrowly missing gunshots.

Everything slows down. You see a solider stand, gun aimed straight at Neteyam’s back. You breathe out, firing your arrow at the solider. It lands in his chest just as he shoots his gun, which distorts the soldiers angle of fire. The bullet hits Neteyam‘s shoulder, and he jumps into the pool of water with a grunt.

You gasp, ears turning down instantly at the sound of his body hitting the water. “Please be okay.” You whisper to yourself, hand over your heart as you attempt to regain your breath. The sound of Neteyam hitting the water replays over and over in your head, and in a fit of rage, you rise to your feet, bow drawn, and you kill the remaining three soldiers in the area.

Once you clear the area, you jump into the same pool of water Neteyam had jumped into minutes before, swimming in search of him or Lo’ak or Spider. You click your tongue, waiting only moments for your ilu to appear next to you, stroking your head with its own.

In a hurry, you pull yourself onto the saddle, sitting up straight and looking around you. So much fire, so many machines, and so much death. But you manage to spot the familiar blue bodies a little further out on some rocks.

“Under,” you speak aloud to your ilu, and it obediently listens, diving into the water and swimming at a speed you didn’t think was possible, but it just showed this creature could feel your bond with Neteyam through you.

Once you’re at the rocks, you disconnect from your ilu, climbing the rocks without anyone noticing because they’re all arguing.

“Lo’ak, you put your brothers life at risk again! If that bullet hit a few more inches over, he’d be dead!” Jake yells at his youngest son, who simply drops his head in guilt. Neytiri is on her knees, presumably beside Neteyam but you can’t see him because Jake and Lo’ak are in the way.

“Dad, we had to save spider. We could not leave him there.” Neteyam speaks up, and you wince at the sound of pain in his voice.

Lo’ak is the first to see you. His eyes widen, having forgotten his lecture from his father, but he doesn’t move.

“Y/N?” He questions, cheeks stained with tears, yet a hopeful look in his eyes.

You didn’t blame his questioning stare. You had changed a lot while leaving with the Metkayina. Your hair that was usually just in tight braids was now only braided at the roots, falling into curls at your ribs. Your skin had turned slightly aqua from the sun and water exposure, and you were wearing a traditional Metkayina loin cloth and neckpiece, decorated by sea shells.

Suddenly, all of the Sully’s were looking at you, plus a Metkayina na’vi, but you don’t have time to say anything, because you’re almost knocked over by Lo’ak who tackles you in a hug, shortly joined by Spider.

“Neteyam… Is he okay?” You whisper, your voice slightly broken, and Lo’ak steps out of the way just as Jake moves aside, and there he was, staring right at you.

From his spot on the ground, he lifts his fingers to his head, the gesture of ‘i see you’ and you approach him with shaky knees before dropping to them next to him.

“You’re okay? You’re going to be okay?” You question him, eyes scanning over his body, looking for any other wounds. He’s scratched and grazed, but that’s nothing compared to his shoulder. Neytiri is applying pressure to the wound, but blood is still sleeping through her fingers.

“He’s gonna be okay. Bullet went through his shoulder. But we need to get him help, or he could bleed out.” Jake finally speaks, and Neytiri nods with him:

“I can take him to my vi-“

Jake cuts you off when he suddenly lifts his head, ears back in alert as he listens to his earpiece.

“He has Tuk and Kiri. Neytiri, he has our daughters.” Jake immediately stands, beginning to ask Spider for directions. Neytiri grabs your hand, placing it on Neteyam’s shoulder. She caresses Neteyam’s cheek for a moment, before mounting her ikran, heading back in the direction of the ship.

“I need you to take Neteyam back to the village to get him help. Please.” He looks at you with pleading eyes, and of course, you can’t say no. Neteyam needed you right now.

“Dad, I want to go with you.” Lo’ak steps towards him, eyes like an endless pool of sadness, and Jake barely spares him a glance before he’s turning around.

“You’ve done enough.” He mumbles, following Spider to the edge of the rocks and leaving you all behind.

“No, Dad.” Lo’ak whispers sadly, but he’s already gone. You frown, wishing you could comfort him, but Neteyam needed help right now.

Neteyam who is on the ground, grunting in pain as his body makes involuntary movements, and your heart aches to take all of his hurt away, shelter him so he never had to feel an ounce of it again.

“Okay, we’re going to get you on an ilu. Are you ready?” You ask Neteyam, but you don’t really wait for him to answer. Instead you look to the water, tongue clicking for your ilu.

“It hurts, so-so much.” Neteyam grunts, and your attention is immediately back on him. “I need to tell you. I’m sorry for what I di-“

“Shh,” you shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes as your free hand meets his cheek, stopping him from finishing his sentence. “Come on, we can talk about this later. We need to get you back.”

He looks up at you, the fear in his eyes almost knocking you over. Gone was the fierce warrior. The warrior who always protected his people, who showed no fear. Left in his place was just a scared, little boy whose eyes were welling up with tears, staring up at you as if you could fix the hole in him. “What if I don’t ma-make it back?”

A tear falls from your eye, but you swat it away. “Hey,” you say to him, lightly tapping his cheek. “You are going to make it. You are strong, Neteyam — Lo’ak! Help me with your brother, quickly!” You yell behind you, and Lo’ak and the Metkayina girl appear right behind you, already helping Neteyam up.

You keep your grasp on his shoulder, now using both your hands to put pressure on the entry and exit wound as Lo’ak and Tsireya guide him over to your ilu. They sit him at the front, and you sit behind him, guiding Neteyam’s hand to hold onto the saddle, while guiding his other hand to press on his entry wound. You keep one of your hands on the back of his shoulder, the other wrapping around his waist, before you connect to your ilu.

“Tsireya, go back with them. I need to help.” Lo’ak turns to Tsireya and cups her cheek, ignoring our pleas for him to stop and he’s gone only seconds later.

The girl, Tsireya, sighs, and you shoot her a sad smile. “Boys, huh?” You squeeze Neteyam’s waist the tiniest bit, and you knew if he wasn’t in so much pain, he’d be teasing you back.

You wait for Tsireya to mount her on ilu, and then the both of you are racing towards the village, with you constantly checking in on Neteyam to make sure he's still with you.

“Mother!” Tsireya calls once you land on the sand, and you struggle, but you manage to get Neteyam off the ilu and onto the sand, his body was weakening due to the loss of blood.

“Come on Neteyam,” you grunt, pulling him along with you, but his body begins to fall limp. “Neteyam!” You yell as he drops to the ground, lifeless.

You immediately drop next to him, grabbing his face in your hands and trying to shake him awake. “Neteyam!” You cry, lightly slapping his face, as if that would make a difference. His body remains unresponsive, unmoving, and you were too panicked to even check his breathing.

It’s all a blur, but the Tsahìk appears and two other men pick him up and rush him into a shack that you are not allowed to enter, all while you sit frozen in the sand, thinking you’d just lost the love of your life before you could even love him properly.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

An hour went by, maybe two, while you just sat in the sand, waiting for any word from Ronal. Not only were you anxiously anticipating news about Neteyam, but the other Sully’s were yet to be seen.

They all showed up after some time, all with their own grazes and cuts. Neytiri’s bow was broken, but the bond between Jake and Lo’ak had seemed to mend, at least a little.

Tuk and Kiri just pulled you into a hug, and you all cried together. You had all been in danger that day, everybody was scared, tired, and anxious at the absence of Neteyam. Spider and Lo’ak joined you soon after, the five of you sitting in the sand, staring out at the ocean.

“We wanted to say goodbye, you know.” Lo’ak speaks up, his gaze turning towards you. Tuk was between the two of you, nestled under your arm. “Dad wouldn’t let us. Said it’d hurt you too much.”

You breathe out, glancing at him for a second before looking back at the water. “Yeah, he was probably right.” You smile sadly, remembering the words Neteyam said to you that day.

“He is going to be okay, my friend.” Kiri loops her arm around your shoulder, nuzzling her head into yours.

You do your best to distract yourself from the anxiety you were feeling, and instead caught up with the Sully siblings, how their life had been since they left, how yours had been, and how this war even came to be.

“-and Payakan landed right on the sky pe-“ Lo’ak’s animated story is cut short by Jake’s voice behind you.

“Neteyam’s awake. He’s okay. He’s asking for you.” Jake’s gaze levels on you, a small smile on his face.

The relief that floods your system is unexplainable. Like all was okay again, there was nothing that could ever hurt you because Neteyam was alive and well.

You stand up, brushing the sand from your legs, and you make your way towards the shack, letting Jake pull you into a dad-hug on the way there.

You push the curtain aside, eyes automatically finding Neteyam who was lying on a blanket on the floor, head elevated by a makeshift pillow.

Neteyam smiles when he sees you, as best as he can through the weakness of losing so much blood, bags under his eyes. “Hi,” his voice is gruff and crackly, like he’d been in a coma for days.

“Hello.” You answer back, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort, rocking back and forth on your heels as you struggle to decide what to do next.

Neteyam decides for you when he sits up just enough to reach your hand, and he pulls you over towards him, making you sit with him. You help him readjust his position so he can sit as well, back against the wall and injured arm wrapped in a sling. You sit next to him, back against the wall as well, heads tilted back as you search for the words to say.

“I thought I lost you for the second time today,” Your voice is shaky, like you were on the verge of admitting your feelings for him, just as he had vulnerably done so many months before. “When you fell to the ground, I was sure you were dead.”

He sighs, wrapping his good arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, your face nuzzling into his neck.

It felt so strange to be this close to him. After pretty much hating each other and being as separated as possible, to being joined at the hip gave you whiplash, but in a really cheesy way, it still felt so right. Like Neteyam was literally put on this planet to be your soulmate.

“I cannot die yet. I haven’t tortured you enough with my presence.” Neteyam attempts at a joke, and for a moment, you smile, but it quickly diminishes when he grunts in pain.

The two of you let the silence take over for some time, just wrapped in each other's arms, listening to the slightly unsteady sound of his heartbeat.

“You know, you broke my heart.” You speak after some time, voice hoarse as you look up at him, seeing a wave of emotion pass over him. Guilt, shame, regret.

“I know. I had to.” He whispers, looking straight back at you, teary eyes glistening in the light.

You feel your own eyes well up, but you pull your gaze away from him, looking down at your hands in your lap. “Why?” You ask, voice shaky as you try to hold back the sobs.

He pulls away from you and you feel your heart beat faster, thinking you had said something wrong. But then he’s cupping your cheek with the hand he could actually use and lifting your head until you’re looking at him again. “Because, it was the only way to stop you from coming after us. I had to break you to keep you safe.”

A sob leaves your body, you feel the tears running down your cheeks, gathering at Neteyam’s fingertips. Your eyes flicker between his. “Well, I still found you.”

Neteyam smiles, eyes full of adoration. “Yes, you did. You never listened to me, anyway.”

You laugh sadly, leaning your face into his hand, eyes closing as more tears fall from them. You’re close enough to feel his breath on your lips, and suddenly, you’re nervous to open your eyes again. You’d never been in such an intimate moment with someone before. Despite your best efforts, your eyes flicker open, immediately dropping to his lips, watching as they widen into a smirk.

“Neteyam…” You trail off, eyes roaming over his face, greedily taking him all in. “I see you.” You whisper, voice only breaking the tiniest bit as you place your hand over his one on your cheek, tangling your fingers together. You move your other hand to his chest, fingers splaying across his blue skin.

He doesn’t hesitate, just touches his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I see you, my love.” Your eyes shut in relief at his words, and he takes the moment to press your lips together, conveying every word he ever wanted to say to you with his mouth as it moves against yours.

“She’s been in here for ages, bro — Oh.” You immediately tear away from each other, stuck like deers in headlights as every Sully offspring enters the room, all wearing similar expressions of shock.

Lo’ak raises his eyebrows, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Oh.” He finishes, chewing his lip to stop himself from laughing.

Kiri is the first to burst out into laughter, immediately joined by Lo’ak, and shortly followed by Tuk, who probably doesn’t even understand what she’s laughing about, but she does anyway.

You can’t help it, you smile the biggest you have in months, covering your face with your hands as you lean your back into Neteyam’s chest, knowing full well he was smiling and blushing too.

“You skxawng’s!” Neteyam yells through a fit of laughter.

Jake and Neytiri decide to join at this moment, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole.

“Who’s a skxawng and why?” Jake asks, looking around at you all, trying to find the answer.

Neytiri has a knowing look on her face. Just smirks as she makes her way over to you, taking the spot on the other side of you and pulling you into a hug, resting her chin on the top of your head.

The rest of the Sully’s follow, surrounding you and Neteyam, all connecting to you in some way, whether it was holding hands, heads on shoulders or legs touching, you were all connected, and finally, you felt whole again.

Sully’s stick together.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

tags: @sopiasleeps @navs-bhat @cedeni-beanie

if you would like to be tagged in future posts, please let me know and i will make a tag list!

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam imagine #avatar twow #neteyam x omaticayan #jake sully #avatar imagine #avatar 2 #tsireya #lo'ak #neteyam

1K notes · View notes

magiccath · 11 months ago

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Christmas with the Doctor

Tenth Doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which you and the Doctor celebrate Christmas

Traveling time and space constantly had one slightly annoying effect on the Doctor. He had absolutely no concept of time. Days, months, and years were but a loose concept to him. Usually, holidays just happened when he deemed fit. He would waltz into the TARDIS control room and declare that the day was special. Most of the time, you just went along with it. He did things on a whim, and Christmas was no expectation.

Just last month he decided it was time to set up a Christmas tree. The issue was, he didn’t have a tree. He had random spare robot parts, dog food (but no dog), the entire works of C.S. Lewis, two dead plants, a Santa costume, and 52 blankets hidden away on the ship. But he didn’t have a Christmas tree.

Determined to find one, he flew the TARDIS back to modern-day London without bothering to land during the correct time of year. He spent a whole day tramping about in the middle of Spring asking around for a Christmas tree. The various amounts of surprised looks and disgruntled shopkeepers explaining it was March didn’t stop him. Eventually, he found a second-hand shop that miraculously had a crappy plastic one in the back. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of an artificial tree, but it would have to do.

You had attempted to point out that he could just pop backward a few months and get a real one at the right time of year, but the Doctor’s mind didn’t think like that. To him, the simplest answer wasn’t always the right one.

Still, you’d helped him carry the big box back to the ship and held the doors open as he dragged it into the control room. You grabbed a cup of tea and leaned against the console to watch gleefully as he struggled to assemble the thing. Eventually, with the help of the Sonic, he got it all sorted out. After a few hours and lots of frustration, he had managed to set up a slightly lopsided plastic tree in the corner. Frankly, it looked a little sad.

“We need ornaments,” he frowned, circling the tree pensively.

“I don’t suppose you have those.” Considering he didn’t have a tree, it was highly unlikely that he had any other Christmas decorations.

He shook his head, “but we can make some,” he cheered, running about the TARDIS collecting various supplies. You watched him dash about with narrowed eyes, wondering what he meant by that.

He handed you a pair of scissors and a stack of construction paper, which you used to make paper chains. You sat idly, cutting and folding paper as he continued his rummaging. He’d pop out of the small storage bunkers in the floor every now and then wielding circular hardware and colorful string.

At one point, he plopped a dismembered Cyberman head on the floor with a loud clunk.

“What’s that for?” you asked, pointing with the tip of your scissors.

“Tree topper,” he smiled brightly, popping his head up from the floor, a massive grin plastered on his face.

You furrowed your brows but didn’t question it any further. Sometimes it was best to just let the Doctor do his thing. You found if you questioned things too much you typically ended up with more questions rather than answers.

Having collected everything that could pass as makeshift ornaments, the Doctor started hanging them on the limp limbs of the plastic tree. He handed you a few ‘ornaments’ and you helped him.

“I think I have some lights,” you mumbled, running off to your room. You came back a few moments later with a string of fairy lights that the Doctor helped you wrap around the tree.

When you were done, the two of you took a step back to admire your work. It was makeshift and messy at best, but it still made you smile. You looked over at the Doctor and found him grinning back at you.

“It’s perfect,” you laughed, knowing that you and the Doctor were likely the only people to ever think so. It wasn’t pretty, but it was reflective of your work together, and that was really all that mattered.

“I agree,” the Doctor smiled, picking you up and spinning you around the control room with a light-hearted laugh.

You had figured that was the rest of Christmas for a while, even if the tree remained in the corner of the control room. That was until the Doctor woke you up with a childish smile.

“It’s Christmas,” he grinned, tapping your cheek repeatedly. You frowned, eyes blurry from sleep.

“It’s what?” you grumbled, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you could glare at the Doctor.

“Christmas,” he stated, smiling at you.

“Now?” you asked, rubbing sleep from your eyes. The Doctor laughed like you had said something funny and grabbed your hand, yanking you out of bed. Too tired to protest, you allowed him to drag you out of your room and into the control room.

The lights were dimmed with a yellowish hue. In the corner, the Christmas tree sparkled. Your eyes traveled downward and saw that there was a small pile of presents underneath it. You had placed one or two parcels down there when you first set it up months ago, but the Doctor hadn’t noticed. You figured he would open them when he was ready.

The Doctor looked at you expectantly, a wide smile taking over his face. You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he was when he got excited.

“Happy Christmas,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around the Doctor’s middle.

“Happy Christmas!” he cheered back, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. You smiled softly, grateful that the dim lighting could hide your embarrassment.

“Come on,” he ushered, running over to the tree excitedly, “open your present.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you blushed, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. The Doctor shook his head in disagreement, “Nonsense.” He placed a brilliantly wrapped package in your hands. You took a moment to turn it over in your hands, admiring the wrapping job. It was neat and perfect, the kind of wrapping you see in Christmas movies. It didn’t seem the Doctor’s style.

“You did this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I worked in a department store briefly.” he shrugged without further explanation, “Open it!” He explained impatiently.

As you slowly and carefully unwrapped the box, the Doctor continued talking.

“Remember when we went to that abandoned mall?” He asked, a small glint sparking in his eye.

“The one that was infested with Weeping Angels?” you added with a shiver. It was lucky that the two of you even made it out of that one. You didn’t like thinking about it too much, it was the kind of adventure that left you with nightmares.

“Right, but that’s not the point,” he shook his head vigorously. “You talked about this store almost every mall had when you were a kid,” he grinned at you excitedly, proud of himself for remembering such a small detail.

“Build-A-Bear?” you asked, sliding the rest of the wrapping paper off of the box.

“That one!” He cheered, snapping his fingers in recognition. “The one where they put the hearts in the bears.”

You nodded as you opened the box, unsure why he was bringing this up now. When you saw what was inside it became very clear. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers ghosted around the object in the box.

“Doctor,” you cried, your eyes widening.

“It made me wonder if I could get you one with two hearts,” he grinned cheekily.

Your hands squeezed around the bear's chest, and sure enough, there were two hearts inside. “The workers looked at me like I was insane,” He laughed, “The paws are TARDIS blue too,” he pointed out.

You turned the bear over in your hands, a tear pricking your eyes.

“Do you like it?” The Doctor asked quietly, scared that it wasn’t as amazing of a gift as he had previously assumed.

“It’s perfect,” you sniffled, clutching the bear to your chest. It reminded you of the Doctor, of your home on the TARDIS. It was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful gifts that you had ever received.

You felt a surge of love and threw yourself into the Doctor’s arms, burying your face in his neck. He smelled so much like himself, a scent that had become familiar to you over time.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your warm breath fanning his skin. The Doctor beamed, more than happy that he could make you happy. He could feel his hearts quickening and hoped that you wouldn’t notice.

“I’m glad,” he smiled softly, resting his head in your hair.

“This puts my gift to shame,” you groaned, pulling away.

The Doctor looked at you with interest as you fished out your poorly wrapped parcel from under the tree. Compared to the Doctor’s it was a mess - pieces of tape all over, and the paper was more crinkled together than folded.

“That’s for me?” He asked, shocked that you had gotten him anything. He looked at the parcel like it was the best-wrapped present in the world.

“Yes, you stupid spaceman,” you teased, handing him the present. He looked down at it with love, running his fingers across the smooth wrapping paper. He couldn’t remember the last time someone got him a present.

“Go on, open it,” you urged, leaning closer to him with an expectant grin.

Carefully, so as not to rip the paper, the Doctor unwrapped the small box. Then, he gently lifted the top to reveal his present. Inside, there were three silken ties with stunning patterns etched into the fabric.

“I got them when we went to that space market,” you explained, “I figured you could use some new ones.”

“They’re silk,” he gasped, his hands brushing over the fabric lightly.

You nodded meekly, “A bit nicer than your usual ones.”

The Doctor looked up at you with a lopsided grin, his hand still running over one of the ties.

“Help me put it on?” He asked. You laughed, finding the request obscure since he was in pajamas. It felt silly to put a silk tie on over a sleep shirt.

“Sure,” you said anyway, taking the tie from his hands. He had picked out the dark blue one, and if you looked closely you could see delicate ivy leaves patterned on the fabric. Your fingers worked gently and nimbly to knot the tie around his neck, sliding it up gently.

“There,” you smiled, patting it down so it lay flat.

The Doctor knew how to tie his own ties. Frankly, he was probably better at it than you. Even still, any chance he got he asked you to do it for him. He’d never admit it, but he liked the proximity of it. Even more, he liked how you bit your lip in concentration as you delicately knotted the fabric together.

“How do I look?”

“Handsome,” you smiled brightly. You could have sworn you imagined a rose-colored blush spreading across his cheeks at your compliment, but he turned away before you could be sure.

“Thank you,” he smiled, taking your hand so he could cradle it gently.

“You’re very welcome,” you whispered, looking down in embarrassment.

“How about breakfast?” He asked, already excited to move on to the next activity. You watched wide-eyed as he jumped up from his seat, offering a hand to you.

“You made breakfast?” you asked, eyes narrowing. The last time he tried to cook he forgot about the oven and burned the TARDIS kitchen down. The time before that, he left cookies in for way too long and made them all kinds of crispy.

He nodded, “proper English breakfast. Not burned this time.”

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“Yes,” he laughed, wiggling his outstretched fingers at you. Taking the hint, you grabbed his hand to follow him.

Sure enough, he had managed to make breakfast without burning anything. Anything that you could see or smell, that is.

“How did you..?” you asked with amazement, looking down at the perfectly cooked meal in front of you. The Doctor just winked in response, leaving you wondering where the food really came from.

“Also!” He said, cutting off your questioning thoughts. “I found Christmas crackers!” He exclaimed cheerfully, brandishing two bright red crackers in his hands.

“I love Christmas crackers!” you gasped, taking one from his hand. The Doctor smiled to himself, he knew you did, that’s why he got them.

“Come on!” you grinned, holding out one end to the Doctor, “help me open it.”

The Doctor smiled himself, it was hard not to when you were this happy. He helped you pull open both crackers. He even let you put one of the silly paper crowns on him.

“They’re the best part,” you smiled, sliding one on top of his head. The Doctor looked up at you with thinly veiled adoration.

“Are they?” He asked with a lopsided smile.

You blushed and nodded before plopping back down in your seat, already scooping bits of food onto your fork.

“Thank you for this,” you whispered, looking down into your food.

“For what?” The Doctor laughed.

“All of this,” you said, gesturing with your fork, “the tree, the present, the crackers.”

“It was nothing,” The Doctor shook his head. To him, it really wasn’t much. He would do anything for you, making sure you had a good Christmas was just a small service.

“Thank you anyway,” you grinned, taking his hand gently. The Doctor smiled softly back at you and rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand comfortingly.

“Best Christmas ever,” you beamed happily, and you meant it.

A/N: I hope you all have a wonderful holiday!!

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persefolli · 1 year ago

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hey babes, i have a request, I wanted to write it myself but i don't have any idea how to start😭, anyways, so jake and reader are mated, but before he met reader, jake had a family with neytiri, yk the usual but they didn't work out, jake still stayed for the kids but the yk, he had to move to the metkayina where he met reader then they got mated, like a year after their mating, reader asked jake if she can meet his kids only if jake agreed though, so he did and then they flew to the omaticaya so jake can introduce reader to his kids, then he leaves reader for a while to go talk to norm and the others, so reader tries to be friends with the kids and the rest is up to you

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟,𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤-𝐮𝐩

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap, @ms5m1th, @18lkpeters, @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @jakesullyscocksleeve, @neteyamyawne, @fanboyluvr, @myheartfollower, @letsloveimagines, @xylianasblog, @papichulo120627

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Jake.” You placed your hand on his chest as he was half-sleep.

He groggily stirred, but squeezed your hip, notifying you that he was up and listening. You looked over at the pile of bags and gifts he had for his upcoming trip to the forest. A trip he took once every 3 months, where he stayed for about 3 weeks.

“We’ve been together a year now…” You began. “I want to meet your family.”

Jake opens his eyes and turns to face you. “Really?”

You nodded. “You love them a lot. I want to meet them.”

Jake narrowed his eyes, signaling that he knew there was more than just that.

“Fine.” You huffed.

“I've been thinking about having a baby for a while now. But then I realized you have 4 children of your own. I don't want you to have to abandon your family in order to start one with me. So I thought…why not make the most with what we have. I'd like to meet your kids Jake.”

Jake nodded and looked to the ceiling. “Thank you for being honest.” He then reached down and squeezed your hand. “I'll take you. But you'll probably have to stay in a different-”

“I understand. Completely.”

After the necessary arrangements were made, you finally accompanied your husband to the forest. Being that you have never been to the forest, everything excited you; the different plants, animals, even the style of the village.

Jake explained that after the Sky People destroyed their Hometree, they had to move to floating caverns as opposed to trees. You frowned at the fact that they had to give up their homes but it was nice to see they adapted.

The journey took a few days, but eventually, you made it. At the landing, you saw a small girl, and three teenagers waiting at the edge of the rock. Two boys, one girl.

Jake hopped off the ikran and scooped the youngest girl in his arms. You assumed that that was the infamous Tuk. Then he waved his hand and the other three Sully kids came over and greeted him, hugging their father.

You watched with a soft smile on your face, still next to the ikran as the family embraced each other.

“Kids, I'm sure you remember me mentioning a new special someone in my life.” He reached back for you and you walked forward, waving.

“This is Y/n. My girlfriend. She's from the reef.”

“Hi guys!” You said sweetly.

Tuk looked at you with wide and curious eyes while the other three gave half-assed, no eye contact greetings. You felt a pang run through your body. It's not like you expected them to welcome you with open arms but you didn't expect this.

“I'll go unpack.” You said quietly releasing from his grip.

Jake hesitated but let you go. This wasn't easy for any of his kids, he knew, but he didn't want you to feel unaccepted either.

After you unsettled in the tent, you looked around, peeking outside to get a glimpse at the bustling village. You didn't belong. You knew you stuck out. So instead of exploring, as planned, you pulled out a small weaving project you had started days before.

A few minutes weaving in silence, a small figure appeared in front of you. It was Tuk. Watching quietly and tilting her head.

“What's that?” The young girl asked.

“I’m making a sieve.”

“What does that do?”

“Well,” You stood. “Say I'm trying to get some rocks, and I don’t want all the nasty mud. The sieve holds the rocks and allows water to pass through to clean it off.”

“Are you almost done?” She asked. You smiled at her morbid curiosity, “Not really, it was just gonna be a project for when I had some down time.”

Tuk flashed a quick frown but nodded. She sat criss-crossed in front of you, before scanning you with her eyes. You continued weaving before you paused, noticing that Tuk wasn’t moving.

“You want to learn?”

“Can I?!” She said excitedly.

You chuckled and nodded, patting the open space next to you. Tuk scrambled over and you held the strings close to her face so she could see what you were doing clearly.

“You are from Awa’atlu? You were born there?”

“Mhm. Born and raised on the reef.”

“Is it pretty there? I’ve never been to the beach before.”

You giggled at Tuk’s inquisitiveness. “It is very beautiful, maybe someday when youre older your father can bring you to visit.”

Tuk smiled brightly and continued questioning you. The young na’vi girl continued pestering you until the sun went down, and Jake came back to shoo her off.

“She's a live one!” You giggled as Jake leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Just like me.” Jake gave one of his signature smiles.

The next day, you opted to go hunting. You weren’t really skilled with a bow and arrow, so you treaded the forest grounds looking for a creek or riverbed you could fish in. You followed a mossy patch until you found a wild stream, fish flipping out and over the ravaging rapids.

You walked right into the middle of the action effortlessly, being genetically programmed to handle rushes of water like this. You couldn’t seee through the white foam bubbling as the water rushed, but you took a deep breath and pinned your spear down.

You harshly yanked it up, and a long red fish flapped on the tip of the spear.

“Woah.” You heard a voice in the distance.

It was Neteyam, watching you on the side of the river in awe. You smiled and waved, stepping over rocks to get to him.

“That was amazing.” He said humbly.

“Thank you. You learn a few skills living off the reef.”

“Are you a warrior?” He asked.

“Far from one. But I do know how to defend myself if needed.”

The two of you stood in comfortable silence as he nodded. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but you knew that the one move kill of the fish had gotten the teenager intrigued.

“Think you can teach me that while youre here?” He broke the silence and pointed to the fish.

“Anytime…that's if Tuk lets me out of her sight for a few hours.” You joked.

Neteyam gave you a nod and a small smile before turning on his heels and jogging back into the forest.

You went the opposite way, heading back to the village, but on the way back you heard some humming in the distance. You stopped, in case something were to happen, but in the distance you saw Kiri twirling and singing to herself. It amazed you how all of them had some deep connection to the forest like you did the reef. What also caught your attention was the way the plants seemed to gravitate towards Kiri, like she was some magnent.

You made it back to the village right before the eclipse plagued the sky. Jake was already in the tent, smiling softly as he warmed up some food for the two of you.

“Did some exploring?”

You nodded in response and walked over to place a kiss on his cheek.

After dinner, Jake took the time to lay in bed with you and hold you in his embrace. He knew the two of you haven’t interacted much since landing in the forest, but he still loved you dearly.

“I talked with my boy Lo’ak today.”

“The one who looks and acts just like you?” Jake scoffed and began laughing, pulling the stray hairs from your face.

He nodded, but then he sighed deeply.

“I’m too hard on him…I wanted to make sure he didn’t hate me.”

“Your kids love you Jake.” You reassured him.

He huffed. “I feel them drifting from me…I shouldn’t be away from them like this.”

You fell silent yourself, feeling guilty, and a sense of pity. You knew you and the Metkayina were the main reasons Jake was away from his family. He had come to start a new life, and that new life interjected with the one he already had.

“Do you want to stay?” You asked him.

Jake went silent. You knew he was battling with himself over the question. Unfortunately in the moment, you took that as a ‘yes’ and you nodded, already accepting the fact that after this trip you just might lose Jake.

The next day you went back to the forest, back to the river and placed your feet in the water. You heard footsteps in the distance and smiled softly.

“Tuk…does your mama know you’re here?” You said without looking back.

“Actually as long as she’s with one of us she really doesn’t mind where Tuk is.”

You were surprised to see the lot of the Sully kids standing there. Getting comfortable and sitting around you. A pit of anxiety filled your gut as they sat silently. Was this an ambush?

“We just wanted to let you know that we don't hate you.” Kiri broke the ice.

“What? I-”

Neteyam sighed and stretched his legs out on the grass. “We heard you and dads conversation last night.” He confessed. “We do miss our dad, but it's unfair to you if he stays here.”

You took a deep breath. “This is not a conversation we should be having.” You didn't want the kids to be involved. They were Jake's weak spot. “We like you a lot!” Tuk said enthusiastically.

“And dad likes you a lot too….we won’t let him stay here.” Lo’ak chimed in.

You shook your head. “You guys are good kids, and your father loves you so much. You deserve to have a father, here, not across the globe doing eywa knows whatever.”

Kiri, Lo’ak, and Neteyam exchanged a look. They were super mature for their ages, and you knew that was a good trait to have as a na’vi.

“You’re his girlfriend Y/n, you deserve love as much as we do.”

“Adults do this all the time. They get into relationships and sometimes not everything works out. I’ll go back to the reef and your father can stay here with you guys.”

Lo’ak stood and shook his head. “You are so stubborn you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“My mom and dad broke up because they had different goals and priorities. He’s been happy since moving to the reef. Every time he visits he talks about you non-stop. He loves you, okay? He won’t leave you.”

“We won’t let that happen.” Kiri chimed in.

Tears pricked the outline of your eyes and you quickly whipped your head to look the opposite way.

“You guys are so sweet. Thank you.”

The next day, Tuk woke you up by jumping on your cot, desperately trying to get your attention so you could take her to the forest. You had slept in, so feeling discombobulated was an understatement to say the least. The young girl handed you a Yovo fruit before dragging you down the mountains.

“Tuk. What the hell?” You said once touching the forest ground.

“We’re gonna be late! Let’s go!” She urged you.

You groaned and followed behind her. The moment you threw your head and rolled your eyes, the young one seemed to disappear.

“Tuk?” You said, startled by the sudden silence.

“Tuk!” You called again.

Suddenly the leaves in front of you rustled and Jake emerged, “Y/n?’ “Jake?” You said equally confused.

You heard a snicker somewhere in the distance and that's when it clicked that the kids had set you up.

Jake swung his bow and arrow behind him and crossed his arms. “I was hunting with Neteyam.”

“Tuk woke me up.”

The two of you shared a silence before he tilted his head and sighed.

“Neteyam started talking to me about visiting the reef, all of them.” He started. “I found it suspicious since they’ve never shown an interest before…”

You suddenly felt guilty. You know you shouldn’t have involved the kids in you and Jake’s issues. Jake seemingly noticed this troubled look, and stepped out to grab your arm.

“I'm sorry that I was being indecisive and put the thought in your mind that I was going to leave you.” He said. “I'm not going to leave you Y/n. I'm gonna give you a baby, and one day we can even get married.”

You took in a breath and nodded, letting him know that his reassurance meant everything

“And for our other issue.” He turned his head to some bushes. “We'll have to figure out how to get these kids to the reef.”

All of the Sully kids came from their hiding spot. They didn't seem to even attempt to hide that they were eavesdropping.

“I'm gonna draw you out a map and route to Awa’atlu. Stops, weather changes, and possible threats. Neteyam. Can I trust you can safely get to and from the reef alone.”

The teenage boy smiled brightly, excited to be handed this opportunity. “Yes sir.”

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake x reader #jake angst #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar #kiri sully #tuk sully #angst #loak sully #neteyam sully #persefolli #persefolliwrites #avatar2

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weretheones · 1 year ago

Text

All You Got | Part 11

Part 11: New Trails

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: hey remember me? pls say yes :D

A day later, you raided the closest town.

A new multitool, granola bars, some tampons. It wasn’t much, but at least you had the car when the night turned cold.

And Daryl.

Those hints of vulnerability hidden behind a surly mask hadn't disappeared yet. And best of all, he could look you in the eye again. Even if you still couldn’t always quite tell what he was thinking, the reaffirming glance of familiar blue laced with a type of gentleness you’d never noticed before— not even in those quiet moments: when he was patching you up, when he was sick with fever— warmed you up better than any sputtering car heater could.

He’d never forget the prison. The sight of those metal fences shadowing your face. But there was a trail where your feet had landed these past weeks, littered with moments that could convince even a man as stubborn and heartbroken as Daryl that it was the right choice to stick by your side, the shadow of prison fences and all. Somehow, somewhere along the way from that dingy cabin to the car you shared, you’d made it okay.

So things were okay, too. For a while.

But the days went on.

On and on and on…

Limp leaves of brown and red flew in the air around spinning tires. Ahead was a horizon of cracked pavement lit by the thin light of sunset and the beam of headlights. Except for the speeding car, the road was empty. Nothing to see but amber skies.

Then those slipped away. The sun dipped behind tall trees, and it was only those headlights and the cold moonlight. No walkers. Not even an abandoned car. Just an empty road, no matter how many miles you traveled.

“Where are we going?”

For the first time in months, there was an air of hopelessness caught in your lungs. It infected your voice, wrapping around the words like rotten tendrils of ivy.

Daryl’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. White knuckles.

He shook his head.

“I dunno.”

The bus had nearly dashed all your hopes, but there was still that stubborn bit of you holding onto the far-fetched idea that something was still out there to find. To protect. Though the road had become so long over the days, the idea smaller and smaller as north, west, south, and east blended, and slowly you were disorientated. No more paths to follow. No more maps to trace.

You could feel your grip slipping, right as the first flakes of snow fell.

—

Eventually, he taught you how to hunt.

The tracks were the softest thing you’d seen in a week, not since Daryl had smiled at you by that river. Thin ovals imprinted in the dirt under a scatter of leaves that you brushed a hand across, gently.

“Deer, right?” You looked up at Daryl. “How fresh are they?”

He just shrugged. “Wha’ ya asking me for?”

You crouched closer to the tracks. They were relatively deep, the edges cut into recognizable prints. With the back of your knuckle, you pressed into the dirt beside them. It gave away underneath, marking an even sharper and deeper print. The earth was soft this morning, warmed by the pleasantly bright sun despite the first fall of snow a couple of days ago.

The sinking prints could only have been made that day. After sunrise.

“They’re fresh,” you concluded. “Maybe an hour or two?”

Daryl smirked, and you soon had one to match it.

A deer would be more than enough meat for the two of you. The last time you’d had a catch like that, it’d been in the thick of last winter. Taking a deep breath in, you swore you could still smell the stew steaming from your bowl. It was enough to give your step an extra bounce. To give some fuel to that dwindling hope in your chest.

Things weren’t always bad, even if it felt like everything was slipping through your fingers lately.

And then an hour later, you were standing over a dead walker and a dead deer, all chewed up.

—

Still no home. No direction.

The air was damp. An almost suffocating musk that infected every inch of the abandoned motel room. From the tacky wallpaper to the mismatching purple curtains, this place screamed road-trip stop. A little strip of a dozen rooms at the edge of an unnamed town dedicated for only those passing through.

It seemed fitting to spend the night, then.

“You can’t seriously like those things.”

Daryl’s eyes found yours, even in the dim candlelight.

“Love ‘em.” He threw another pig’s foot into his mouth and you cringed.

“Ew.”

“More for me, then.”

That was just fine with you.

You rolled your eyes and took another bite of canned corn. It was too sweet and a bit metallic from its years in a can, but at least it wasn’t a foot.

The pair of you had your backs resting against your claimed, and ironically empty, single beds. After a week of sleeping in that car, taking turns curling into the backseat, it was a treat to have a real mattress to sleep on. Even if it was cheap and full of squeaky springs that dug into your spine.

But somehow here you were, on the floor instead, sharing a late and unexpected meal against dusty, floral bed sheets.

Daryl insisted on holding watch most nights. A simple thing that always seemed to lull you to sleep faster knowing that he was there, he was watching. You stopped doubting if he would keep you safe a while ago. He always did, after all. But tonight, it’d been your turn to do the same for him, to wait for each of those heavy breaths to come and the gentle flutter of his eyes as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep.

That walker had almost got him.

Really almost got him. If you hadn’t fired a bullet when you did, you would have spent the night digging a grave. All for some gas to fill a car you still had no idea where to drive. It was always just the next town, the next house, the next store, the next—

He let you throw your arms around him after the last of the dead had fallen, even if his muscles turned to stone when you did. And he listened after you told him to rest first. Perhaps the memory of that loose, unbridled fear in your eyes had turned him to putty in your hands, for the time being.

It was only a couple of hours before sunrise when he woke up. He asked you to rest, too. Whatever you still could get.

The last thing you wanted was to sleep, to give in to your heavy eyelids and fall away from the world. Not when you could still smell the walker’s rot, could still hear Daryl’s heavy grunts. The crack of that bullet breaking through that monster’s skull. No. No, you wanted to be here. With him.

But you were putty in his hands, as always.

It'd barely been halfway through his turn on guard when an old nightmare slipped its way into your subconscious. A morbid twist of Daryl’s neck ripping underneath that walker’s teeth into the sky high flames you’d never forget from the early days. As you began to toss, the squeaking of your mattress pulled him away from the window. His chest ached to hear the mumble of your fragile voice around incoherent pleads, and then that name— the same name over and over.

He woke you up.

The haunting touch of the dead, cold and cruel, slipped away with the curl of his warm, merciful fingers squeezing around your shoulder. It’d taken more than a few seconds to realize his features weren’t twisted in terror and pain, like all those other faces that you could barely remember anymore had been. Then there was the drumming beat of your heart as you sat up and clung onto him, for the second time that day.

After you let go of him, he sat back on your bed, quiet and rigid as a statue. Back to his usual, touch-adverse self.

So you sat there, listening to your breathing slow and the whistle of the night’s air sneaking past that cracked window.

“I’m sorry,” you finally mumbled, brushing your messy hair away from your face.

The stream of moonlight that slipped through the break in the curtains reached across your face. He followed the movement of your hand, heard the rumble of your voice, thick with sleep, and seemed to warm back up.

Slowly.

He swallowed. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”

You nodded, fear shifting into numbness.

“You alright?”

The moonlight fell on him too, highlighting the concern that laced his eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed.

It was about the most you could muster out; you could still feel the ruthless grasp of dead fingers around your neck.

It wasn’t convincing, of course. That look on his face didn’t let up.

“I’m okay,” you reiterated with a deep breath.

His eyes flickered over you one last time before he finally conceded.

“Alright.”

Daryl shifted back again, looking down to the bed. The sheets were thrown back. Your legs curled up to your chest. He had this burning thought— one that had been simmering for a while now, that made him freeze up with fear of his own. Would it help to brush that one loose strand of hair behind your ear? The one you missed? Maybe then you’d hold him again. That seemed to make you feel better, somehow. All he knew was it made him feel warm and—

He stood up, somewhat abruptly.

“I still got a couple hours, if ya wanna…“

“No,” you blurted. “No, I’m not— I’m not tired anymore.”

He nodded and offered an alternative. No prying and no more nightmares. Just distractions.

That was how the pair of you ended up on the floor. Daryl eating pig's feet from a jar and you playing up your disgust, because the reality was, you’d eaten far worse than pig’s feet in the last few years.

“Some fresh game, diet soda, pig’s feet,” Daryl smirked as he wiped his hands clean. “You’d have yourself a white trash brunch.”

“A delicacy,” you teased.

“More fillin’ than your corn.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll stick to my corn, thanks.”

“Your loss.” Daryl took another bite. “Merle ‘n I used to fight over these.”

You huffed a laugh, “Seriously?”

“Mhm. He was a sneaky bastard. Used to wait till I looked away, then swipe ‘em off my plate.”

“Like a dog?”

He chuckled, “Wouldn't be the first time someone called him tha’.”

“Oh? He didn’t get along well with the ladies?”

“Merle thought he did. Don’t think no one else agreed.”

You gave him a small laugh. Though, truth be told, the talk of brothers, no matter how joking, was starting to weigh on your chest. It always boiled back down to him, and you couldn’t think about him right now— not if you wanted your eyes to stay dry and your heart to beat that steady rhythm in your chest.

So you backtracked.

“You ate a lot of white trash brunches?”

“Didn't have much else.”

“Didn’t cook?”

“Didn’t know how. Didn’t have no one to teach me, neither. Not unless ya count over a fire.”

Every meal you’d had in the last two years had been cooked over a fire.

“It counts,” you said.

“Did you cook?”

“Mhm. Loved it,” you sighed. “I was pretty good, too.”

“Better than canned soup?”

“Much better.”

“My mom used to cook. Can’t remember it much, though.”

He had a timid look in his eye, and you held your breath. Ready to share your sympathies— which felt all too frequent, these days.

“She died when I was a kid. ‘Round the same age as Carl.”

“Who’s Carl?”

It was Daryl’s turn to hold his breath.

“He, uh,” he cleared his throat. Shifted in his spot. That mention hadn’t been intentional, it seemed. A slip in memory— that you were new to him. You’d never lived at the prison, never known the people he did. That the only thing the two of you shared, beyond the old stories you shared during quiet nights, were the last two months.

“He’s Rick’s kid.”

He had another look. One that made the air smell like rushing waters and moss.

You felt the words bubble up your throat before you even knew what they were.

“The one I—?“

“Yeah.” He nodded.

The one you saved.

“Sounded like it.”

You took a deep breath of that musty motel room air.

“We didn’t have many kids who knew how to use a shotgun. Never mind kill a man.”

“Carl did?”

“He had to. Growing up on the road. The first time we fought the Governor.”

“Poor kid.”

“He’s tough.”

“Still. I can’t imagine growing up like this.”

Daryl’s eyes fell to his fingers, fiddling with his thumb. Your heart squeezed when his shoulders, as broad and strong as they were, seemed to curl in on themselves. Before you could even register your concern for whatever was running through his head, another question tumbled out of you.

“You think it might be easier?”

He shrugged. “Ya jus’ get used to it. Shit being ugly.”

“I guess,” you mumbled.

But hearing those words, that thick drawl of his tired voice, made something sting inside of you like salt rubbed into a wound. From the small bits he shared, Daryl’s upbringing never sounded easy, or particularly loving. A brother who neglected him most of his life, a mother who died when he was just a boy, and a father he’d never mention. Even if his life had prepared him to survive this sick and twisted world, it didn’t seem fair.

“It still doesn’t make it right.”

Daryl didn’t say much after that. You didn’t want to offend him— you hoped you didn’t. Maybe that comment made it obvious you’d been thinking about his past and his family… Those scars. No matter how hard you tried to forget them, to ignore the intrusive thoughts of how they might’ve come to be, the sight was ingrained in your memory.

So much for lightening the mood.

It was silent. Long enough for your words to sink into the stale air, and for the both of you to finish your snacks. The empty cans sat on the dusty nightstand to your left and your head rested against the back of the mattress. Your eyes almost closed, too.

But with that dark silence came those haunting memories again. Flashes of that nightmare. The desperation trapped in dying screams. Fire and blood.

You stood up. Back turned to the quick look Daryl threw your way, you dug through that bag you packed full after raiding the town’s general store. It was almost bare, save the three walkers you took out, but you managed to find the last of the canned food that now sat on the floor, empty, and a stray sterile pad, kicked underneath one of the vacant shelves.

“Should change your bandage.”

“Alright,” he agreed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

It took everything in him to keep his eyes off that pensive expression of yours. Features twisted in contemplation, and a hint of horror, maybe. You tried to hide it from him. In a way, he hid too, concerning himself with only the buttons of his flannel and the leather vest peeling off his back instead of that festering question he couldn’t seem to stop asking. Are you okay? It sat in his heart like a shard of glass, digging deeper and deeper the harder he tried to pry it away— to ignore the urge.

The fabric of his shirt hung off the side of his body. Enough room that he knew you’d be able to sneak underneath and change his bandage without bother while keeping the rest of his torso hidden.

As if you hadn’t already seen more than enough of his tanned skin to keep you up at night with unsolicited thoughts of every kind.

Heartbreak.

Desire.

The bed squeaked as you sat down behind him, feet hanging off the edge as you turned to see the exit wound. You tugged the old bandage off. It was hard to tell what it looked like with nothing but that thin peak of moonlight and the low flicker of candlelight, but with the pass of your fingertips around the wound, you could tell his skin was flat again. No inflammation, no discolouration save that hint of a healing bruise. There was a fresh layer of white tissue where the bullet had passed out of him, which was the best sign of all. You ripped open the sterile pad you found and taped half over the same spot.

Then you moved to the front to do it all over again. Doing your absolute best to keep your focus on the wound and not his watchful eyes, following you as softly as that candlelight danced across his skin.

“How’s it lookin', doc?”

As much as he was trying to distract himself from that heavy look on your face, barely relieved with his stupid quip that you spared the slightest smile for, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Weaving in like the roots of a weed. It still felt foreign to concern himself so attentively with someone without that cursed last name of his; Merle was all he gave a shit about before, and even then, his brother usually rejected that care. Called him a pussy for giving a damn. Then they ended up at the quarry, and it turned out he wasn’t entirely heartless once another Dixon wasn’t around to taunt him.

“Good. I don’t think you’ll need this for much longer.”

Truth was, Daryl didn’t give a damn about his shoulder right now. Not when your eyes were hazed like they’d been when he woke you up.

“How do you feel?” You asked.

It took him a second to remember you meant to be tending to him, right now. Not the other way around.

“Fine.”

He rolled his shoulder as if to prove it.

“How ‘bout you?”

Your eyes stilled, for a moment, then snuck back up to his. As if he’d just caught you red-handed. Another hum hadn’t even the chance to slip past your lips, but you could already tell he thought you were full of it. A slight narrow of blue, flickering over the way you'd been biting your lip and your heavy eyes. He gave you a chance to brush it off again, if you wanted.

Somehow that made your resolve crumble away. Knowing that he saw past it all, but he'd never force you to bare it to him, either. But then those walls you put up years ago were ground down to sand, running through your fingers.

“I don’t have them often. Not anymore.”

“You said a name,” Daryl mumbled. “Alex.”

Pouring free.

You gave a soft nod. Hoped that ringing in your ears would go away as fast as it came on.

“My brother.”

Just like that, his eyes were starting to burn you again, so you looked at your hands. In your lap, where you sat on your knees, just next to him. Close enough to wrap his shoulder. Close enough that you could see his own hands resting on his thighs, fingers just brushing against the frayed edges of his torn jeans.

You picked at the strands of your own, right beside that numb spot on your thigh where a scar was forming.

“I don’t remember it much, but I think it was from the start. When we were at Westwood.”

“Wha’s that?”

“It was a middle school just outside of Atlanta. Some army had set up a base there until they could find a way to move us all to Fort Benning.”

There was a brief moment when his eyes widened. He had a curious stare that forced you to look up before a flash of green sleeping bags and the silver packaging of MRE rations pulled you back into the memory.

“There weren’t a lot of us. Under a dozen soldiers. Few of us from the city. Most of the kids ran off with their parents— if they showed up.”

It hit harder than the Governor had stabbed you, right then, that you’d forgotten their faces. Their voices. Their names. Memories shadowed with ghosts who you couldn’t even tell apart anymore… The smell of burning flesh lingered better than their smiles.

“It went bad quickly.”

He didn’t ask how. Didn’t need to really, the end was all the same. One day it was gone, and so were they, and the road became your path again.

“You ever made it to Fort Benning?”

The edges of his voice had dulled, filed down until the words were nothing but a feather passing along your cheek, beckoning your attention his way instead. Sometimes you wondered how he knew you were picking up the shovel, ready to dig your way into a pit of fear and regret, before the handle ever touched your hand.

You took in a breath. “Yeah. It was nothing but ash, though.”

“We were headed there. Back at the start.”

“Fort Benning?”

“Mhm.”

“What happened?”

“Got held up on Hershel’s farm, instead. Rick ran into some guys one day— bad guys. They told him it fell. Badly.”

Another flash of the dead.

“It did.”

You looked back down.

“Did those bad guys take the farm?”

“Nah. We left ‘fore they found us. Herd ran us out. Spent the whole winter on the road after tha’, runnin’ from place to place…”

Ever so slightly, Daryl stiffened. You knew what that meant.

Until the prison.

“What was the farm like?” You asked.

There was a pleading tone to your voice, twirling up the edges of your words in a way that reminded him of the girl who couldn’t stop asking if he’d stay or leave, who would limp behind him after he silently scolded himself for helping you so much. Back when he didn’t care if your leg hurt or not, or at least, was better at pretending so.

“We weren’t there long.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if there wasn’t a string as taut as his crossbow squeezing around his heart. “Maybe a month. But, it was the nicest place we’d been. Had trees, big old ones. Runnin' water. Fields’a crops and a couple’a horses.” He added that last one even if Nelly had thrown him so hard he wasn’t eager to ride another horse again. “But we were always fighting each other. No one knew what the hell they were doin’.”

Your brow raised. “Not even you?”

“Thought I did.” He shook his head. “I tried.”

A breeze snuck through the cracked window, flickering the flames around you. He took a breath.

“Still am.”

“Me too.”

The shadows cast across your face were softer now. The sun rose on the opposite side of the motel, but he could still see that hope shimmer in your pretty smile. A softer, dusty blue lit up the sky with ribbons of amber dancing across; orange reflecting onto the colour of your eyes he knew so well. Tracing the edge of your curled lips, the curve of your cheekbones. Your hair was getting long, now loose from the toss and turn of sleep. He didn’t see it down often, but it framed your face just as kindly as the light did.

You took in a deep breath. It sounded less strained than before.

“We should head back to the car.”

Daryl nodded.

Then you smirked, and just like that, the charm that made his chest fill with warmth was back.

“It stinks like pig’s feet in here.”

—

The wind danced around you, a whirlwind of fallen leaves and that light dusting of snow, sparking like sugar in the sun. The sky was the same as it’d been the last few days. Pale grey clouds with pockets of blue peeking through. The sun’s harshest rays were always hidden away in the name of winter.

You spared a glance to Daryl who walked by your side, if not slightly behind. Hunter's eyes roamed over the edges of the railroad you passed through, ignoring that crunch of gravel under your feet while he waited for the snap of a branch or the squeak of a nearby rabbit. Crossbow in hand, bolt loaded like always. The sight of him trailing your steps almost made the cold air bite less.

That hopeless air in you felt lighter than you remembered, too.

Almost fading.

The car wasn’t far, now. Maybe twenty more minutes. The rumble of empty stomachs had sent you behind the motel instead of through the town you looted yesterday, where the train tracks cut through the forest, hoping to find some breakfast before you finally filled the empty gas tank and started on the road, again.

Ahead, a rust-coloured train car sat on the second track. A few doodles of white and black spray paint coated the sides, but half of them were covered by a hanging banner, beige and held up by four strings. The bold-blocked words SANCTUARY FOR ALL, COMMUNITY FOR ALL, THOSE WHO ARRIVE SURVIVE were painted in a similarly rusty-coloured red. Underneath the banner was a sign, wrapped in plastic but the lines of a map were as clear as a summer day. Blue, red, and green all lead to a black star in the centre-left labelled TERMINUS.

The pair of you shared a look, your eyebrows drawn together in a mixture of confusion and shock and his eyes narrowed into slits. Inspecting the poster for any kind of warning, any threat, as if a walker was about to jump from behind it.

“They were broadcastin’ this,” Daryl muttered, after a long and tense moment.

Your eyes widened. “When?”

“Before the prison,” he said, sparing you another uncomfortable look before he continued to stare at the carefully wrapped sign. “We heard it on the radio when we were lookin’ for those meds. Couldn’t make it out then, but this is it: ‘those who arrive, survive’.”

The wind tickled your skin, goosebumps rising and bangs fluttering across your face as you lingered by that sign. In the breeze, a long strap of white fabric caught around your boot, pulled from underneath the train car. You bent down to grab it, brow furrowed at the sight of a used strip of gauze.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Someone was just here.”

The crossbow was held tighter then, as if he could be any more on edge.

“How do you know?” He asked through a clenched jaw.

“The blood.” It looked like Daryl’s had when you changed his bandages every couple of hours instead of days. “It’s fresh.”

Your eyes snapped to the map again— how big it was. It covered most of the state, by the looks of it. You could roughly pinpoint the prison in the upper left corner and could imagine lines of your own where you’d travelled these months. Between pharmacies and cabins and random sides of the road.

And whoever had left this bandage… they’d seen it, too.

“Daryl, look at how far these go.” Your hand traced the lines of railroads, sprawling across Georgia. “This can’t be the only sign. There’s the prison,” you pointed out, “If they have signs across all these tracks then… your people could’ve seen this.”

Slowly, your hand fell back to your side. The look in your eye was like the sun breaking out from behind the clouds; a glimpse of that brightness he missed so fondly. Sparked by the glimmering hope in your eye, Daryl could feel a flicker of warmth catch in his chest again, and the realization of what you meant sunk in.

“If any of them saw this map, would they go?”

He hadn’t even known he was nodding along until that slight curl of your lip lifted.

“Maybe we don't need to find them, just this place.”

Daryl chewed his lip. The lines on the map curved their way through Georgia like vines, crawling through the north, east, west, and south like the ivy he saw across every abandoned building. Who was to say this place was even there anymore? Putting signs up like that, broadcasting their whereabouts for anyone to hear. It sounded more like a last-chance pipe dream than Fort Benning, and he’d already heard how that played out.

He’d had enough of those soul-crushing losses. Enough fill for an entire life, and then some. He wasn’t sure if he could risk that again. Not when you were just about everything he had left.

“I dunno. ’S far.”

“This is our best lead— our only lead.”

He shook his head. “We dunno ‘em. Dunno if it’s even real.”

“You didn’t know me.”

There you were, with raised brows and that look in your eye that somehow reminded him of the forest’s comforts— soft brown fur of nimble squirrels jumping from branch to branch, the bright blue sky breaking through even the thickest trees, green surrounding him like a blanket.

“And really, where else do we have to go?”

A forest he’d spend his whole life exploring.

Eventually, he gave in. A habit he seemed to be picking up when it came to you.

“Guess it’s worth a try.”

And there was that smile again, blooming with new hope.

————————————————————

-> part 12

A/N: omg hi. I took a long and unplanned hiatus. I won't get into it too much but to recap, in case you care/are curious: I went to nyc for the dead city premiere and had a blast, graduated university, started weightlifting (kinda replaced my twd obsession LOL), got really into GOT, and am now back because for some reason daryl dixon being in paris (????) got me going once more. anyway. im excited to continue this series again!! even if it took every cell in my body to finish this chapter LOL. kinda hate it kinda love it. idk. WHATEVERRRR.

more to come. I promise. thank u for reading and being so patient with me <3<3<3 all the love.

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

AYG taglist: @fuseburner @itsmeatballworld @rickysgrimes @stevenknightmarc @huffledor-able541 @your-shifting-gurl @hopefulatrocity @strnqer @dreamtofus @fillechatoyante @suniloli @kiaslily @poubxlle @normanplusdaryl @sseleniaa

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