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alewritesfics · 2 months ago

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Bridging Realities

ℑ. 𝔅𝔯𝔦��𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤....𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: slow burn, unedited, angst, eventual smut, playful banter, happy ending

You sighed, your eyes half-lidded as the familiar orchestral strains of Bridgerton filled her room. You sat cross-legged on your bed, the soft glow of the screen illuminating your face. There was nothing more comforting than watching the series you loved so much. Rewatching the third season once again

Personally, you enjoyed the second season so much more but then again, maybe it had to do with Anthony Bridgerton being the focus and not the other brothers.

Lady Whistledown’s narration sounded through the speakers, narrating the final words of the last episode, slowly turning into Penelope’s voice. You leaned back against your pillow, letting the sound wash over you. You knew the world wasn’t real, that the characters were fictional, yet somehow, Bridgerton had a hold on your heart.

Your days were filled with spreadsheets, emails, and endless Zoom meetings. Romance was more of a distant dream than a reality, your last date having ended with awkward silences and mismatched expectations. In comparison, the universe of Bridgerton seemed impossibly alluring and the dream world every girl wished to live in

But as the credits washed over the TV, your eyelids grew heavier. The candle’s lavender scent, the one you lit to relax, mingled with the faint hum of the screen, and soon, you fell asleep.

The first thing you noticed was the sun, bright, golden, and far too harsh for your liking. You groaned as it hit your eyes, squinting as you tried to roll over, only to feel the crunch of grass beneath your hands. Grass?

Your eyes snapped open and you sat up abruptly. Gone was your bed, your cozy room, your TV. Instead, you found yourself on the edge of an immaculately trimmed garden path. The air smelled of damp earth and blooming flowers, and birds chirped in the distance.

Panic bubbled in your chest as you took in your surroundings. You were outside, in what looked like the perfectly manicured grounds of a grand estate. But what caught your attention most was what you were wearing.

A corset cinched your waist tightly, and the skirt of her butter-yellow gown flared out around you. The material was heavy, the embroidery intricate, and your gloved hands trembled as you touched the neckline.

The ridiculous color made you want to barf, not to mention that when you grabbed your hair, the first thing that caught your attention was that it was red.

“What the—” you started to curse

“Y/n Featherington!”

The shrill voice cut through your confusion like a knife. You turned sharply, your heart racing. A woman in a garishly bright gown approached her, her face a blend of exasperation and disapproval. You had to admit it took you a moment to recognize her, but when you did, your jaw dropped.

“Lady Featherington?” you whispered.

The older woman pursed her lips. “What are you doing dawdling out here? Have you forgotten we have breakfast waiting? Come along, child!”

You scrambled to your feet, your mind reeling. Lady Featherington? None of this made sense. The last thing you remembered is watching her on Tv happy for Penelope but-

“Are you quite well, or has all that daydreaming rotted your brain?” the matriarch continued, waving a handkerchief impatiently. “The season is already underway, and we can’t afford for you to be making a spectacle of yourself.”

You stared, words failing you. Lady Featherington’s impatience only grew. “For goodness sake, do not stand there gaping like a fish! Move, Y/n!”

And with that, she turned and marched off toward the sprawling estate ahead. You hesitated, glancing around as if someone, anyone, might jump out and explain what was happening. When no one appeared, you hurried after Lady Featherington.

The Featherington estate was exactly as you remembered it from the series: bright, bold, and bordering on garish. But you weren’t familiar with it since they didn’t show it much, or at least the full house, all they showed was Penelope’s room, the drawing room and you could say the entrance.

You followed Lady Featherington through the grand halls, struggling to keep up in your unfamiliar gown. Did they really need to wear corsets all day? You felt like you couldn’t breath. Each step felt surreal, like you were floating through a dream.

“Do fix your hair before you sit down,” Lady Featherington snapped as they approached the dining room. “Honestly, Y/n, you’re one and twenty not one and ten. One would think you’d have learned to present yourself properly by now.”

You scowled but kept quiet, your mind too preoccupied to argue. Twenty-one? The words hit you hard. That was your real age. How did this fictional world know that?

Your thoughts were interrupted as you entered the dining room. Seated at the table were three familiar faces: Penelope, Prudence, and Philippa Featherington.

You froze, they looked just like their on-screen actors, down to the way Prudence leaned too close to the mirror she carried, fixing her hair with exaggerated care. Philippa was giggling over something no one else seemed to find amusing, and Penelope sat quietly, her expression kind but weary.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Penelope greeted, her voice soft.

“Morning, Pen” the words left your mouth before you could think, as if it was something familiar to you, something you’ve always done.

You sank into a chair, your movements awkward under the weight of the hideous dress you wore. Prudence snorted. “Honestly, you look half asleep. Did you even bother to brush your hair this morning?”

Your hand instinctively flew to your hair. You had no idea what it looked like, only that it was red, and kind of curly, but the smug smirk on Prudence’s face told you it wasn’t good.

“Leave her be,” Penelope said gently, giving you a sympathetic smile

“Leave her be?” Lady Featherington exclaimed as she swept into the room. “How can she hope to attract any suitors if she looks as though she’s rolled out of bed? This is her second season already, and we’ve yet to secure an offer!”

The words stung, even though you knew they weren’t meant for your real self. But the reminder that you were apparently in the start of a second season in Regency-era London was enough to snap you back into focus.

“None of us have attracted any match yet, have we?” You try to defend yourself

“I beg to differ” Philippa cuts in “Mr. Finch and I are soon to be married” she giggled

You rolled your eyes “perhaps instead of worrying about your sisters, you should start worrying whether you will still remain unmarried by the end of the season” Lady Featherington told you. You decided not to respond, not wanting to start an argument.

Breakfast was an exercise in survival. You focused on eating, using the elaborate table settings as a distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You listened as Prudence and Philippa bickered over their prospects, while Lady Featherington chimed in with unsolicited advice about how to catch a gentleman’s eye.

Penelope remained mostly quiet, though she sent you a few sympathetic glances. How such a sweet girl got born into this kind of family, you would never know.

“So, what are your plans for the day, Y/n?” Penelope finally asked.

You froze. Plans? What plans? Did people in Regency London even make plans, or were they just dragged around by their mothers and chaperones?

“Um…” you began, only to be interrupted by Prudence.

“She hasn’t any plans,” Prudence declared. “She never does.”

“Don’t be cruel,” Penelope chided.

Prudence shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

You looked down out the window, ignoring their conversation as you thought over what to do. What even is your purpose? From what you remembered, there was no fourth Featherington daughter, well, there was in the books but it was a little girl that was best friends with Hyacinth. And you are no little girl, obviously. And based by your age, you are the second eldest with Prudence at twenty- two in this season, you twenty-one, Philippa twenty and Penelope eight-teen almost nine-teen?

“Could we not have appealed to the queen, mama?” You snapped back into the conversation as you heard Prudence’s familiar dialogue “after mourning dear papa for so long, perhaps her majesty might extend her kindness and allow us to be presented again”

You couldn’t help yourself and cut in “even if you were presented again, Prudence, you still would not be declared the diamond”

“Y/n!” Lady Feather- mama, god you need to get used to calling her that, scolded, you apologized, shoving Penelope slightly as I saw her chuckling silently next to me

“I see no need to go through all of that again when I myself am already betrothed to Mr. Finch” Philippa stated, waving her hand around

Prudence turned to her “Mr. Finch may very well change his mind” she said snarkily. I sighed turning back to Penelope.

“what has you so impatient, Pen?” you asked her

She turned to face you, a small smile on her face “It is just nerves” she tried to play it off, but since you have already seen the series, you already know what it is “On whether I will find a good prospect this season… no one wants to be a spinster, but maybe I will be the unfortunate one to become so”

You chuckled, “You will not become a spinster, Pen.” You assure her “I assure you that if you don’t find a husband this season, you will the next one…and who knows, maybe it will be the person you’ve always longed for” you give her a knowing smile

“I am not that fortunate” she stands, walking towards the window.

“Penelope, how many times must I warn you to be wary of that window?” Portia called out “Do you wish to appear like a befreckled beggar spending all day in the sun?”

“Of course not, mama” Penelope turned her head to face her “My apologies” she smiled before turning back to the window

“It is here” She said happily

You watched Penelope as she stood behind the couch Prudence and Philippa occupied as they all read Lady Whistledown´s paper.

“I am off to the market with my maid, mama” She told Portia “I have just a bit left of pin money and- “Portia waved her off, gesturing for her to go

“I´ll go with you” you said to her as she turned to leave

The park was a lively scene that afternoon, filled with ladies strolling arm-in-arm and gentlemen gathered in clusters, exchanging conversation and laughter. You had chosen to take her walk alone, though Penelope had gone ahead to meet Eloise.

The events of the past few weeks still left you feeling disoriented, but you had started to settle into your role as Y/n Featherington, even though the world around you felt like an elaborate charade. You weren’t entirely sure why you were here or how you were supposed to navigate these social games, but you were determined to find your footing.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the tall figure stepping into your path until you nearly collided with him.

Your head snapped up, your eyes immediately opening wide as you saw him. You’ve always imagined meeting him but finally seeing him in front of you is surreal.

Your breath got caught In your throat.

Anthony.

He was exactly as you remembered—broad-shouldered and impeccably dressed, his dark hair neatly styled and his expression exuding the quiet confidence of a man accustomed to commanding attention. But seeing him here, in the flesh, was entirely different from watching him on a screen.

And he was handsome. Extremely.

“Miss Featherington?” His voice, deep and smooth, cut through her shock like a blade. Your eyes widened. How did he know- ah, right, Penelope

You blinked, trying to regain your composure. “Lord Bridgerton,” you managed to say, dipping into a shaky curtsy as you remembered it was the custom in this era

He stepped closer, his brows drawing together in mild concern. “Are you quite all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

You gave a nervous laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “My apologies, my lord. You just… startled me, is all.”

“I assure you, that was not my intention,” he replied, his tone polite but edged with curiosity. His dark eyes studied you, and for a moment, you felt as though he could see straight through your carefully constructed façade, realizing that you didn’t belong to this world

“You must forgive me,” You said quickly, your words tumbling out in an effort to mask your unease. “I was lost in thought and did not see you approach.”

“Clearly,” he said, though his tone carried no malice. “It is a rare occurrence to catch someone so thoroughly off guard.”

You straightened, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “And yet, here you are, Lord Bridgerton. A man of many talents, I see. I suppose this is a rare moment of leisure for you?” You tried to make small talk, not wanting to waste this opportunity.

Anthony raised an eyebrow at you. “Leisure, you say? And what makes you so certain I am not hard at work?”

“Hard at work?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “I had imagined as much. A man like you—busy securing the future of your family and interviewing potential viscountesses—surely has little time for aimless walks.”

Anthony blinked, clearly caught off guard by your bluntness, though he recovered quickly. “You are well-informed, Miss Featherington.”

“Only what everyone else already knows,” You replied casually, smoothing the skirt of her gown. “Your efforts to find a suitable match have become the talk of the ton. I dare say even Lady Whistledown has taken notice.”

“That is hardly surprising,” Anthony remarked, his tone edged with faint exasperation. “Lady Whistledown takes notice of everything.”

You tilt your head “Then perhaps the better question is whether you take notice of her words.”

Anthony’s brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, he seemed to genuinely consider your question. “I find that Lady Whistledown’s observations are often exaggerated, though not always without merit. Still, I prefer to form my own opinions.”

“An admirable approach,” You said. “Though I do wonder, does that same logic apply to the ladies you interview? Or do you rely on recommendations from your family?”

He studied you carefully, as though trying to determine the intent behind your words. “I assure you, Miss Featherington, I take my responsibilities very seriously. When it comes to choosing a viscountess, I rely on no one but myself.”

You raised her hands in mock surrender. “Of course, my lord. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting otherwise. Let me guess, the perfect wife must be well read, intelligent, must play an instrument. Must know how many children she wants, able to hold a conversation and most important, hips capable of child bearing, am I wrong?”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his features. “You have quite the imagination, Miss Featherington,” he said, his tone even, though there was a distinct edge of curiosity in his gaze. “And an uncommonly sharp tongue.”

You offered a small smile, your nerves steadying under the guise of playful banter. “Forgive me, my lord, if I’ve overstepped. But the list does sound like something Lady Whistledown herself might concoct. Or perhaps it’s simply what one hears when the Bridgerton heir is the subject of such persistent speculation.”

Anthony regarded you with an unreadable expression, his hands clasped behind his back as he leaned slightly closer. “And do you often find yourself among those who speculate, Miss Featherington?”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, hesitating for a moment before responding, your voice light but measured. “Speculation is hardly my pastime, my lord. However, when a man of your stature begins conducting interviews as though he were drafting a contract, it’s difficult not to take notice.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made your heart flutter. “And what would you have me do instead, Miss Featherington? Rely solely on the whims of fate? Entrust my future to the uncertainty of a fleeting glance across a ballroom?” he murmured

“Some might argue that fleeting glances have led to the happiest of unions,” you countered, . “Though I suppose that would not suit a man as practical as yourself.” You smiled knowingly, already aware that before next season starts, he would already be in a marriage of love that started with those very same fleeting glances he has no interest in.

Anthony’s lips quirked upward in the faintest hint of a smile, though he quickly masked it. “You seem to have a rather strong opinion of me, despite our limited acquaintance.”

“Limited, perhaps, but not nonexistent,” you replied, taking a small step closer as if to match his intensity. “I’ve heard enough to know that you value duty above all else, that you are a man of precision and purpose. But even the most dutiful man can benefit from embracing the unexpected.”

He tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And do you speak from experience, Miss Featherington?”

You hesitated, his question striking closer to home than you anticipated. “Perhaps,” you said finally, your voice softer now. “But even if I did, I doubt my experience would be of any interest to you, my lord.”

“On the contrary,” Anthony said, his voice low but firm. “I find you quite… intriguing.”

Your breath hitched once again at his words, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. But then Anthony straightened, his composed demeanor returning as quickly as it had slipped.

“However,” he continued, his tone now more formal, “I must take my leave. Duty calls, as you so astutely pointed out.”

“Of course, my lord,” you said, managing a polite curtsy despite the sudden flutter in your chest. “I wouldn’t dare keep you from your responsibilities.”

As he turned to go, Anthony paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Miss Featherington,” he said, his voice softer now, “you may think me a man of precision, but even precision has its limits. Perhaps one day, you’ll learn just how far.”

And with that, he strode away, leaving you rooted to the spot, your mind racing and your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t expected.

As soon as he was out of sight, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing. Seeing him on-screen had never prepared you for this—for the sheer intensity of his presence, for the way his voice seemed to resonate in her very bones.

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself. This world might have been a dream come true, but Anthony Bridgerton was proving to be a far more disarming reality than you imagined.

Taglist:

@heyyitsreign

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #violet bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #daphne basset #kate sharma #edwina sharma #colin bridgerton

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azzifudd · 7 months ago

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i love it when we touch

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: Paige Bueckers is a very physically affectionate person.

rated: teen

1.9k words

disclaimer: fiction :)

[AO3 Link]

Paige Bueckers is a very physically affectionate person.

It’s the first thing Azzi noticed about Paige after they both made Team USA and started playing basketball with one another.

Azzi has always considered herself a pretty affectionate person, quick to give a high five to a teammate or a hug to her family. But Paige takes it to a whole other level, always the first one over to her during a timeout, giving her a pat on the butt and throwing a sweaty arm around her neck.

With almost anyone else, Azzi might be annoyed, but for some reason, she never seems to get tired of Paige. Not to say Paige isn’t annoying, she is, with her big mouth and near overconfidence. But beneath all that bravado, all Azzi sees is a sweet girl, with kind eyes and a good heart.

It’s that girl who Azzi wants to know. So she leans into every embrace, presses just a bit closer to Paige every time they’re next to each other on the bench. And tells herself that she isn’t imagining that Paige looks at her in a way that she doesn’t look at their other teammates.

Even though she knows it’s probably a bad idea, that after this tournament they might go their separate ways and never talk again, Azzi can’t fight it, and doesn't want to fight the butterflies that erupt in her stomach every time Paige is near.

She leans into it instead, that feeling that she’s teetering over the edge of the cliff, so close to falling, and jumps.

Azzi Fudd has very soft hands.

That’s the only thought in Paige’s mind as Azzi drags her through the small patch of trees toward the lake. They’d spent the whole day on the lake with Azzi’s family, only returning to her grandparents’ cabin for dinner.

Everyone else has settled around the fire, eager for s’mores and campfire stories as they wait for the sun to fully set. Paige had nearly sat down herself, tired after an afternoon of trying and failing to water ski, much to Azzi’s amusement. Paige couldn't find it in herself to be too embarrassed when Azzi giggled and wrapped her in a towel, keeping an arm around her as she helped to rub her dry.

Now, they finally break through the line of trees to find a small, almost rickety, pier tucked into a hidden edge of the lake.

“Woah.” Paige releases a breath at the sight.

“It’s nice, right? My grandma showed it to me last year.” Azzi takes a seat on the end of the pier, letting her feet dip into the water. “I come here when I wanna have some peace and quiet.”

“Are you sure you want me here?” Paige says, half joking. She knows her energy can be a lot, especially for Azzi who cherishes her calm.

“Of course I do.” Azzi says, simply, patting the seat next to her and calling Paige forward. “I always want you next to me.”

Paige plops down beside her, shocked at how casually Azzi can say something that can steal all the breath from Paige’s lungs. She wonders if Azzi feels the same spark when their pinkies brush together on the rough wooden surface.

Azzi leans back with a sigh, head thumping lightly against the pier. She stares up at the orange, pink sky, colored by a sun that’s nearly set.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yeah.” Paige whispers, laying back as well, but when Azzi turns her head, she sees that Paige isn’t looking at the sky at all.

Her normally piercing blue eyes are soft as they run over Azzi’s face, lingering on her lips before she looks away, bashfully.

Azzi turns on her side, lifting a hand to run her gentle finger down the bridge of Paige’s nose.

“You’re sunburned.” Her hand drifts to Paige’s cheek, hovering for a moment before she goes to take it away.

Paige’s hand darts up to grasp Azzi’s wrist, pulling her hand to her lips and pressing a kiss to her palm. Azzi’s pulse hammers between her fingers.

Paige’s eyes find Azzi’s mouth again.

“Can I—“

“Yeah.” Azzi replies, eyes already slipping shut as she leans in and presses her lips to Paige’s. Her aim is slightly off and both their lips are chapped from being in the sun all day.

It’s perfect.

Paige Bueckers is a pest.

Azzi has known this since they met at Team USA tryouts. She’d seen this pale stringbean and dismissed her as a threat before quickly being proven wrong.

Paige was probably the best player there, besides her, of course. Offensively, she was able to do anything she wanted, whether it was get to the rim, or nail a jump shot with a hand in her face. Which made it even more impressive that she preferred to pass, and she seemed to love to pass to Azzi. And Azzi had never had this instant on court chemistry with anyone else. It’s like they both knew where the other was on the court without even having to look.

But just because they played well together it didn’t mean that they didn’t love to compete against each other too. Even now, as they play two on two with a pair of little girls, Paige is talking trash and trying way too hard on defense. She grins a little bashfully when she bats one of the girl’s shots out of the paint and Azzi playfully glares at her.

Azzi casually stands in the paint, watching as her young teammate dribbles at the three point line. Paige presses up behind her, hand ghosting over her shoulder, then down her back. Her touch burns even through the material of Azzi’s t-shirt.

Paige leans into her hip, head over her shoulder, breath hot against her neck.

Azzi pushes back half-heartedly, not actually wanting Paige to pull away. “You know we’re on camera right now, don’t you?”

“I’m just playing good D.” Paige replies, snarkily, before moving to cut off the girl moving toward the rim.

One of the girls finally scores and they call it a game. Azzi says goodbye to the last of the campers who finally trickle out of the gym. She can feel Paige’s heated gaze from all the way across the room.

“Are you gonna help me clean up or are you just gonna sit there?”

Paige is sitting on the bleachers, leaned back with her elbows braced behind her and legs spread. She cocks her head with a smirk, beckoning Azzi to her.

Azzi rolls her eyes as she approaches, stopping right in front of Paige without touching her.

“Hey,” Paige murmurs, looking up at her, eyes big and tender as her hands graze the outside of Azzi’s thighs, her hips.

Azzi softens instantly. Paige’s touch never feels like less than worship.

Azzi leans down, linking her fingers behind Paige’s neck and pulling her into a kiss. She knows it’s risky for them to do this here, where anyone could walk in and see them, but she can’t bring herself to care as Paige deepens the kiss, drawing Azzi onto her lap, hands gripping her ass and squeezing.

They kiss for a few long moments, and Azzi loses herself in the slip of Paige’s tongue against hers and the way her shoulders flex when Azzi digs her nails into the back of her neck.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Azzi’s phone vibrating loudly against the bleacher beside them. It’s her mom.

“Where are you two?” She sounds clearly exasperated even over the phone. “We’re waiting for you at the restaurant.”

Azzi pulls back, ignoring Paige’s sound of disappointment when she dislodges her hands from where they’ve crept beneath her shirt.

“We’ll be there soon,” she replies. “Just got held up at the gym.”

“Hmm.” Her mom sounds unconvinced as they hang up.

“Held up, huh?” Paige looks up at her, eyebrow quirked.

“Shut up.” Azzi pushes her in the face. “You better hurry up and help me or else you won’t be doing any more ‘holding’ any time soon.”

Paige is on her feet in record time.

Azzi Fudd is not a jealous person.

And that’s what she tells Allie one night at Ted’s when the freshman asks her if she gets annoyed by how many women approach Paige.

Ice and KK burst into laughter at her response, but they shut up as soon as she shoots them a glare.

“I don’t get jealous!” Azzi protests. “Often.” She acquiesces when Ash cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“I mean everyone gets jealous sometimes right?” Sarah offers up.

“Exactly.” Azzi says, ignoring the snickering she hears. “Anyways, I don’t worry about that.”

She gestures to where Paige is at the bar, smiling politely as a line of mostly women approaches her for photos, gritting her teeth a little when an especially busty woman presses up close to Paige.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Fudd. Paige is crazy jealous too.” KK laughs. “Watch.”

She directs Allie to put her hand on Azzi’s arm. “Pretend to laugh at something Azzi says.”

Allie appears unsure, but she does as she’s told. Not even half a minute passes and suddenly Paige is back at the tableside, sliding in between Azzi and Allie. She puts Azzi’s drink on the table in front of her, subtly dislodging Allie’s hand.

“Here’s your drink, babe.”

When she steps back, she slips an arm behind Azzi, hand finding its place low on her back. She scowls a little bit at Allie who smiles awkwardly as she pulls her hand back.

“What?” Paige asks when KK and Ice both smirk obnoxiously and begin elbowing the freshmen.

“Just showing the newbies how jealous you get.” KK cackles.

Paige scratches the back of her head. “Well..” She shrugs, bashfully, unable to deny it.

Her attention is drawn when Azzi leans in close, pressing her lips to where Paige’s jaw meets her neck.

“I like it.” Azzi says, quiet enough that only Paige can hear. Paige smiles in response and drops a kiss on her forehead.

Paige Bueckers is at peace.

There’s a light breeze that keeps the climate from being too hot, but the sun warms her skin as she lays out on a large beach lounger on a quiet stretch of beach. She has a glass of her favorite cocktail, an interesting book, and no responsibilities for the foreseeable future.

But most importantly, she has Azzi.

She’d started out the day beside Paige, with her own book and drink, looking so damn good in her bikini that Paige had almost dragged her back to their room.

But the beach had looked too beautiful to abandon, so they’d settled in for a day of relaxation.

They’d read their books for the first few hours, taking breaks to film a few TikToks and pose for a few selfies, but eventually Paige notices Azzi’s head begin to bob and soon enough, her book slips out of her grasp as she dozes off.

Paige picks up the book, slipping a bookmark into place for Azzi to come back to later. Within just a few minutes, Azzi has rolled into Paige’s space, ending up with her head pillowed on Paige’s shoulder and an arm and a leg thrown over her. She stays asleep.

Paige knows they can’t stay in this position for long without risking sunburns and bad tan lines, but she wants to savor it as long as she can.

After a while, Paige feels the arm beneath Azzi starting to fall asleep. She shifts a bit, accidentally jostling her.

“You ‘kay?” Azzi asks, lashes fluttering as she wakes up.

“Yeah, sorry.” Paige adjusts herself, tucking Azzi even closer in her embrace. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” Azzi murmurs. She presses a kiss to Paige’s sternum. “Love you.”

Paige watches her girl fall back asleep on her chest. Yeah, life is pretty good.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #finally getting something done and posted :(

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reticent-writer · 8 months ago

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Hear me out. Hear me tf out. A reader who is Tomioka’s fraternal twin and got separated from him when he ran into the mountains, with the relatives failing to find him but catching her. Anyway, she suddenly jumps out of the infinity castle during that one moment in the first episode of the Hashira training arc. Like, just as the door is about to close, this lady just appears and uses the demon as a stepping stone to jump out, and once it closes the momentum has her slamming onto the ground and rolling a couple of feet. And she just kind of lies there before rolling over and staring at the sky, before starting to laugh and cry at the same time, babbling about how she made it, she’s alive, she’s out of that place. Now, Sanemi and Obanai have no idea who this lady is, but they want answers as to why the hell she just jumped out of that place. She’s covered in scratches and had torn her kimono to knee-length for more mobility in there. Anyway, the Kakushi bringing her to headquarters to get her treated and during the Hashira meeting Sanemi or Obanai just mention this girl who was there in their mission and who is getting checked over by the butterfly girls, but she might have important information. Pls make a fic of this.

I liked writing this it was fun. Thank you for requesting ヾ(≧▽≦*)o

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

It felt like an eternity since you were kidnapped by Douma but you remember your life before. You remember running with your sister and brother, only stopping when reaching a clearing in the forest. Your sister urged you and your twin to keep moving but when you tried to stand you found yourself in an unfamiliar place.

The Infinity Castle.

It's been years before since you've seen the sun but you didn't lose hope. Your sister and brother were out there, hopefully. They become your reason for living.

------

"Awww look at you. A rare beauty but so playful... please come out, I'm not gonna hurt you." Douma laughed.

You held your breath as you hid from the demon. Quietly maneuvering through the infinite rooms in vain. You've been playing hide n seek for hours, without food or water your body is sure to give out any minute now.

"I think I really lost you. Come out please, you'll be dead if Master finds you. Besides all that I know you're hungry, you haven't eaten in a few days. You won't last long if you keep with up." He pleaded, his voice becoming quieter the more you moved but you couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

As you walked through one of the rooms you saw a demon falling from what seemed to be different from the rest of the castle's terrain. It was an opening. Something that you had been tortured with, he would make an opening far enough way so that you would have to run to get to it. Of course, he was always faster and he wouldn't even let you get close.

But this time he didn't know where you were plus he didn't open it.

This was your chance to escape and you didn't waste it.

luckily for you the room you were in was close enough to make it even with your limited stamina.

You ran as fast as you could, taking the demon by surprise and using your momentum, propelled yourself through the opening right as the demon slayer stabbed the ground.

You made it.

You got as far away from the opening as you could. you laid on your back looking up at the moon. It finally hit you, You really got out. After years of being in that horrible place, you finally escaped.

You start to smile as tears welled up in your eyes. You gasped for air but a strained laugh left your lips when you exhaled. It quickly developed into deranged and uncontrollable laughter as the crocodile tears wouldn't stop.

The two demon slayers stared at you not knowing what to do.

"Hey, what were you doing in there?" Sanemi questioned as he pointed his sword at you.

It took you a moment to calm youut as you were about to speak you passed out.

---------

*two weeks later*

"Her injuries are minor but she has so many of them that she lost a lot of blood. Judging by her physical condition she's malnourished and has been sleep-deprived for a while. It's better to let her rest for now." Ubuyashiki's son read out Shinobu's note at a hashira meeting.

"Sanemi, you and Obanai found her while in pursuit of a demon correct? Was there anything unusual about her?"

"Yes sir, she jumped out of the infinity castle as a demon went in. She was hysterical before she passed out." Sanemi explained as everyone listened intensely.

"When she wakes up I would like to talk to her with all of you present."

The rest of the meeting was uneventful.

----------

Shinobu personally looked after you while you were recovering. You didn't wake up for another week and when you did, Shinobu ensured you were healthy enough before bringing you to a meeting.

She gave you new clothes and a nice meal before leading you to the demon slayers' headquarters.

You were met with a kind smile from the master which you returned. You sat on the gravel in front of the master.

None of the hashira had arrived yet.

"How are you feeling?" Ubuyashiki asked.

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you."

"That's good to hear. Do you have any plans after this is over?

"Hmm... I haven't thought about it. I have no home to go back to and my fam- I don't know what happened to my family." You muttered the last part.

"That's ok, we can talk about that later."

One by one the hashira arrived and sat in their usual positions.

"Hello, my children it's nice to see all of you in good condition. Now to the matter a hand, Ma'am can you tell us how you got into the demons domain." Ubuyashiki opened the floor for you to talk.

"I honestly don't know, one minute I was running with my brother and sister then the next I was in a room."

This caught Giyuu's attention.

"What was it like in there."

"Torture. I could barely eat, sleep, or even breathe without being watched. And the place was never-ending and constantly changing."

"DID YOU SEE KIBUTSUJI?" The wind hashira barked.

"Kibutsuji?"

"Muzan Kibutsuji. The demon king." Ubuyashiki explained.

"Oh, Douma kept me away from him. He said if the master saw me he'd kill me. Douma is a demon with long blonde hair, a golden fan and colorful eyes."

"Did he have a number engraved in his eye? If so what was it?"

"Number 2."

"Forgive me for being so rude but I forgot to ask for your name."

"It's Tomioka Y/n."

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

i hope you like it

#female reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #sibling reader #platonic #giyuu x reader #sister reader #reticent writes #reticent writer

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

Text

No Regrets - Part One

Content Warning: mentions of main character deaths but these are temporary because this is a time travel two-to-four-shot and so, they start dead but then get better :3 Also maybe a whiplash warning? In that it starts off kind of dark for a story that's pretty light-hearted in the end.

Here's the first part of the threatened season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Steve has lived his life in regret. Replaying scenarios in his head over and over late at night when sleep eludes him. And sleep is always eluding him these days, weeks, past five years. Steve hasn't known a day without regret since the day they failed to kill Vecna, the day Max almost died. The day Eddie did.

It's five years to the day today.

Steve spends endless nights thinking about how he'd change that spring break. It was the start of the end of everything. Eddie's death wasn't world ending for Steve. It was the end of a what-if. A maybe. But for Dustin. Oh God, Dustin. Who had blamed himself for Eddie's death, who was broken and then never able to get time to recover. To grieve.

Dustin, who pulled away from everyone, from Steve, because of it.

He's not dead, Steve knows, because he still hears his voice on the radio. Separated from the group but vital to their survival. He spread intel on Demo-creature movements, where safe spaces are, news from across the broken and destroyed America, and how to survive the hellscape.

There have been losses. Terrible, tragic losses.

Murray Baughman. Lucas Sinclair. Karen and Holly Wheeler. Will Byers. And those are just the ones he knows. A lot of people scattered to the wind when Hawkins became overran with the Upside Down and its creatures.

He's still two days out on this supply run. Two more days and he'll get to know who is still around. Who they lost this time. It's not always someone they know, but the horrors never cease, and Steve's been gone a total of three weeks.

"Hey," Robin breaks him from his thoughts as she leans over to whisper in his ear, "since you're gonna daydream, you might as well actually dream. Scouts say it'll be a while before we can continue moving."

"I'm not daydreaming, I'm thinking."

"Well, be sleeping instead. You'll be more useful with some rest," Robin pats her shoulder, inviting him to lean his head against it.

"Don't use my weakness against me. You know I love being useful," Steve sighs as he drops his head onto her shoulder.

"I know. It makes you easy to manipulate," Robin teases. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, shut up and sleep."

Steve grumbles under his breath. No real words, just grumpy noises as he does shift and get as comfortable as he can leaned against Robin. He is tired, and with nothing else he can be doing, he won't feel too guilty about it.

He closes his eyes.

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the glass storefront of Family Video. Usually when he dreams of the past, the sun's never this bright. It's been years since he's seen the sun at all, with the red-black sky of the Upside Down looming above them constantly.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the fresh(ish) air of Family Video. How long has it been since he's taken a breath without his mouth covered by a mask, bandana, some cloth or another? Well, he's not really breathing without a mask on, his conscious self has one on, but it still feels good to fill his lungs and release. He has half a mind to jump the counter and go outside to repeat that; see if his unconscious mind will provide a difference in the air, if it remembers enough to do so.

"Hey Steve," Dustin says as he is stepping through the doors with Max at his side. It's then that Steve takes in where the dream has started. The doors have just opened, and Steve's looking partially over his shoulder, towards the doors instead of the TV as it plays the news of Chrissy's death on the screen. The world fades back into motion, instead of the slowness the beginning of his dream started as Dustin finishes his question, "how many phones do you have?"

"Are you seeing this?" Steve asks on autopilot, playing out the scene he knows, but he holds off from stating the someone was murdered part. He's tired of saying it.

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks with more urgency.

Steve takes in Dustin and Max while Robin explains the phone situation. It's been so fucking long since he's seen Dustin. Since Max was able to see him. God. He can't let this play out like normal. It's not going to fix reality, he knows that logically, but what would it hurt to live out his fantasy of getting a re-do while he dreams? Wasn't that what he was thinking about while awake?

He tunes back into the conversation when Dustin shoves his backpack across the counter, and then himself. Instead of whining about the tapes, he reaches for the pen and notepad they keep close to the till. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Max, fill them in while I do this," Dustin replies.

Max turns to him and Robin, who is eyeing both Steve and Max but listening. Max explains what Steve already knows. The lights going crazy, Eddie fleeing his own home, and that it might be Upside Down related.

There's a script here. Responses he has memorized because of how often he dreams this moment over and over. An answer Steve usually gives, but this time he finds he can hold his tongue. He doesn't have to speak. Doesn't have to follow the script.

"Okay," Steve says instead. "Dustin, what's the number for the Byers now?

Surprisingly, that actually pulls Dustin from the computer. He spins on the stool to give Steve a confused look. "What? Why?"

If he's being honest with himself, he's never really had this much control over his dreams before. Having this control makes him want to do all the things he's daydreamed about. To change the choices that fill him with regret and guilt. "I want to leave a message for Jonathan," Steve lies, "or talk to him if he's home. Give him a heads up that Upside Down shit might be going on again."

Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, suspicious, "Jonathan?"

"Yeah. Jonathan," Steve says in his bitchiest voice. "Number, dude."

He can tell Dustin doesn't fully believe the lie, but he recites the number anyway.

"Thanks," Steve says as he scoots around Robin and heads to Keith's office to use the phone there. The first thing he does is call the police station and let them know that he saw Eddie Munson at Rick Lipton's place, up by Lover's Lake on Holland Road. The lady who answered starts to ask questions, Steve just says he recognized the trailer on TV as the Munson's and hangs up. He'll swing by later once everyone else has pieced together the Rick Lipton part of this all themselves. If Eddie's still there, he'll drag him to the station himself.

'Cause the thing is, Steve has thought of many scenarios. So many. And even if nothing else changes, this is the bit that will. Eddie cannot be killed in the Upside Down if he is in a jail cell instead. And if the police do follow up on his tip, then they'll take Eddie in for questioning before Fred dies. And that's.

Well.

Steve's living through the end of the world and that changes people. It's changed Steve. Once there would have been a time when allowing someone to die, knowing it was going to happen and not stopping it, would have filled Steve with guilt, regret, maybe even some self-loathing. But Steve's made enough sacrifices for this town. Lost enough of the people he loves to be jaded. Maybe even cruel. If Fred has to die to prove that Eddie didn't do it, then that's what will happen.

His next step is to call the Byers. It surprises him that Joyce actually answers with a hesitant hello. That never happens in the dreams.

"Joyce. I mean, Ms. Byers. It's Steve. Uhh, Steve Harrington," he says.

"Oh. Hello Steve. What, uh, what can I do for you?" Joyce's voice is still hesitant.

"Listen, the Upside Down is back. Or, like, it was never gone? I don't know. But I needed to tell you."

"Oh my God," Joyce sounds horrified, and Steve can hear Murray in the background asking questions. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Vec- sorry, it has already killed a girl. Max was a witness. Well, of the aftermath. But that's not important. What I need is for you to tell El that she's never been a monster and never will be. That everything has been the fault of One. And I think you should tell her Hopper is alive and you're going to rescue him."

There's not an immediate answer. A rustling sound and then faint voices he can't make out. She must be covering the phone with her hand as she and Murray talk. Or argue, knowing Murray. After a moment, Murray's voice comes through the line, "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

It's followed by Joyce shouting, "How do you know about Hopper?" and Murray quickly shushing her and some shuffling noises before Joyce says, "Okay. We're both listening."

"Look, I know you have no reason to believe me so I'll give you something that might serve as proof that I know things I shouldn't. When everyone gets back from the roller rink, be there for El. She's going to- to have a bad night, because of a girl that's been, like, bullying her at school. Then, I need you to get them headed this way tomorrow morning, because you gotta be gone then, too, but like. Be there for El tonight. There will be an incident involving a roller skate. So, if you believe me, call me back after that."

"How do we know you're who you claim to be, Steve?" Murray questions again, while Joyce says, horrified, "El's been being bullied?"

"I can't exactly prove I'm me. But call my house tonight after you've spoken to El and I'll answer. That's the best I can do. I... I don't know if Jonathan or Mike have my number, but Mike can call home and get my number from Nancy. That'll be proof, right? Or Will can get it from Dustin. Whichever."

"And how do you know about something happening tonight at the roller rink?" Joyce demands.

"I know more than I should. So, if the roller rink thing holds up, and you decide to at least hear me all the way out, call my house," Steve hangs up then, not wanting to get into a loop of explanation.

"Steve! Hurry up and come help people while I help Thing One and Thing Two!" Robin calls through the door and Steve takes a step towards the closed door to comply but he stops, hand hanging just above the doorknob. That's how the dream goes. That's what 19-year-old Steve would have done.

But that's a Steve that died five years ago, when the world ended, when the apocalypse started. Steve's not 19 anymore, though he must look it, a master of his own puppet. He's never sought himself out in a mirror when he dreams; he's too busy taking in everyone who has been lost to him in his waking life to bother with himself.

What does he want to do this time?

What does he want to do right now?

He leaves Keith's office to beeline to Dustin, pausing only to pat Robin on the shoulder. He slides around Max and comes to a stop beside Dustin.

"I already told you, I need this for-" Dustin starts to speak but cuts off with a squawk that sounds like a mixture of indignation and confusion as Steve just reaching out and bodily turns Dustin towards him. "Steve, this is important!"

"I know," Steve says and then hugs Dustin. Dustin doesn't hug back, but neither does he pull away. Steve knows he's missed Dustin, felt his loss for many years now, but holding Dustin now, feeling him solid and here feels Steve what he can only equate to grief.

Dustin lets himself be hugged for what is, undoubtedly, an awkward amount of time for him before he thumps Steve's back twice and says, "okay... You can stop now."

Steve lets go and turns to Max, who immediately puts her hands up, "No. Absolutely not."

He chuckles and steps around her. He won't force his affection on her.

Then he takes off the family video vest and sets it on the counter.

"Steve?" Robin asks.

"Sorry, Robs, I can't stay and help customers. I have some things I got to do."

"Steve, you cannot abandon me on a Saturday!"

He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for abandoning her. It is a shit thing to do but right now saving Eddie and Max from Vecna is more important. He's already wasting daylight, so instead of answering his gives her his best 'I'm so sorry' face and bolts out the door. All three of them shout after him but he doesn't slow.

He's got a list of regrets to change.

Tagging the besties and all the people that expressed interest when I posted the lil blurb about this. Sorry if I missed you!

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @vampirestevie @alex-axolotl @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched

#steddie #my fic #it's a late birthday fic to myself #not at light-hearted as I wanted #but I'm in a less light-hearted place now than when I first wanted to write this. So my mood has changed the story a bit

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mesu-senshi · 2 months ago

Text

Title: "Be Still, My Giant Heart"

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Konig x Reader

Theme: Comedy, Romance, Fluff

Trope: Arranged Marriage

Side-Story: "You're My Forever"

______________________________________________________________

König was exhausted. His body ached from the grueling deployment, and his mind reeled with the chaotic rhythm of the battlefield. The moment he stepped onto the familiar path leading to their cozy house, nestled near the sparkling river, the tension began to drain away. He could already imagine her warm embrace, her soft smile lighting up his world.

But as he stepped through the door, ready to call out to his wife, he froze.

There it was—the sound of giggles, sweet and intimate, echoing from somewhere deeper in the house. His heart clenched painfully.

"Who is she talking to?"

The warm, lilting tone of her voice, the playful coos—it wasn’t meant for him. König’s heart, which had only ever swelled with pride and love for her, now felt like it might shatter into pieces.

Did she get lonely? Had he failed her somehow?

He dropped his bag by the door, his footsteps quiet as he followed the sound. With every step closer, he swore he could hear another sound—something soft, something… whiny?

His towering frame rounded the corner to the living room, his chest tight with anticipation and dread. Then he saw her.

His wife, his beautiful, perfect wife, crouched on the living room rug, laughing as she held a squirming bundle of golden fluff in her arms.

"Who's a good boy, hmm?" she crooned. "Oh, you're such a handsome boy, aren't you?"

The "handsome boy" in question wagged his tail furiously, letting out a happy bark as she kissed the top of his fluffy head.

König stood there, stunned. Relief hit him so fast he almost stumbled. His hands braced against the doorway as a shaky laugh escaped his lips, and he shook his head.

"Mein Schatz," he rumbled, his deep voice startling her and the dog.

She turned to him, her smile wide and bright as the sun. "König! You’re home!"

She jumped to her feet, the dog wiggling excitedly in her arms as she hurried to him. "I wanted to surprise you!"

He blinked down at her, still trying to process the turn his emotions had taken. "A… dog?"

"Yes!" she chirped, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I rescued him a few weeks ago. His name is Milo."

König crouched slightly to get a better look at the golden retriever in her arms. Milo blinked up at him with big, trusting eyes, his tail wagging in rhythm with König’s growing amusement.

"You… rescued him?" König asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

"Well," she admitted, a little shyly now, "he was left at a shelter. I thought he’d be lonely there, and… I didn’t want to be lonely either."

Her cheeks flushed as she reached out to touch his arm. "I know I should’ve asked first, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought… maybe it would make you happy too."

König looked at her, his heart swelling with so much love he thought it might burst. His wife, this gentle soul, always thinking of others, always brightening his world even in the smallest ways.

"You thought I would be upset?" he murmured, brushing a stray curl from her face.

Her eyes searched his nervously. "Maybe a little? I know things like this are… big decisions."

A low chuckle escaped him, and he cupped her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "How could I be upset, Liebling? You’ve given me a home, a family… and now a dog."

Milo barked as if to agree, and König finally let himself smile fully. He reached out to scratch the dog’s ears, and Milo happily leaned into the touch.

"I think he likes you," she said softly, watching the two of them.

König glanced at her, his eyes warm. "Good. Because I like him too."

Her grin lit up the room as she set Milo down, and the dog immediately began sniffing at König’s boots, tail wagging furiously.

König straightened, towering over her once again, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. "But next time," he teased gently, "tell me before you surprise me. My heart can only take so much."

She laughed, her arms slipping around his waist. "Deal."

Milo barked again, and König reached down to ruffle the dog’s fur. "But I think we’re going to get along just fine, Milo."

______________________________________________________________

That night, König found himself lying on the couch, his wife curled up against his chest and Milo sprawled across their legs. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath, her contentment lulling him into peace.

Home. This was home. And König wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world...

______________________________________________________________

Extra Scene: "You’re My Forever"

Later that night, the house was quiet except for the occasional rustle of the river breeze brushing against the windows. König was seated on their shared bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, towel-drying his damp hair after a long, relaxing shower.

[Y/N] walked in, dressed in one of his oversized shirts that hung like a dress on her petite frame, her long hair slightly messy from playing with Milo before bed. She paused in the doorway, watching him.

König looked… thoughtful. Troubled, even.

“Mein Herz,” she called softly, padding over to him. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up at her, those piercing blue eyes soft but conflicted. “Nothing, Liebling.”

She raised a brow, tilting her head. “You’re a terrible liar, König.”

He let out a sigh, reaching out for her hand and gently pulling her to stand between his knees. His large hands held hers delicately, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles.

“When I came home today… and I heard you laughing, speaking so sweetly…” His voice was low, almost ashamed. “For a moment, I thought… maybe…”

Her brows furrowed in confusion before realization dawned on her face. “Oh, König…”

His grip on her hands tightened ever so slightly. “I thought you had been lonely. That maybe… you found someone else to replace me while I was away.”

Her heart clenched. Not from sadness, but from how much she loved this man. How could someone so gentle, so loving, ever think he was replaceable?

She dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands framing his face as she looked up at him with all the love she could muster. “König,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I would never, ever replace you. Not in a million years.”

He searched her eyes, his expression softening as her words sank in.

“You’re my everything,” she continued, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “My home.” Another kiss to his cheek. “My heart.” Then the other cheek. “My forever.”

By the time she kissed his lips, he was holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world, his arms encircling her and pulling her into his lap.

“I was so scared,” he admitted against her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been away so long… I worried you’d realize you deserved someone better than me.”

“Better than you?” she said, her tone incredulous. “König, you are the best. You’re kind, selfless, brave, and loving. You’ve given me a love I didn’t even know I was missing. No one could ever compare to you.”

He buried his face in her shoulder, his breath hitching as her words washed over him like a balm to his soul.

“I love you,” she whispered, her fingers threading through his damp hair. “I love you more than I could ever put into words. And I missed you so much.”

He pulled back just enough to see her face, his eyes glistening. “I love you too, Liebling. So much it scares me sometimes.”

“Then let me show you how much,” she murmured, her lips brushing his in a tender kiss that quickly deepened, full of unspoken emotions and the desire to reconnect after their time apart.

She tugged gently at his shirt, and he obliged, letting her pull it over his head to reveal the scars and muscles she adored. Her hands roamed his chest, tracing the lines of his body with reverence as if to memorize him all over again.

“König,” she whispered, her lips following the path of her hands with soft kisses, “I’m so glad you’re home.”

His hands slid under the hem of her shirt, lifting it off her and exposing the soft, warm skin he’d missed so much. His touch was hesitant, almost reverent, as he caressed her sides and pulled her close.

“Let me love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

And love her he did. The night was filled with whispered confessions, tender kisses, and the kind of intimacy that only came from a deep, unshakeable bond.

As they lay tangled together afterward, her head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped securely around her, she pressed one last kiss to his collarbone.

“Promise me something,” she whispered sleepily.

“Anything, Liebling,” he murmured, his fingers gently stroking her back.

“Never doubt how much I love you. No matter how far away you are.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his heart full. “I promise.”

In that moment, with her in his arms and Milo snoring softly at the foot of their bed, König knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Home.

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i-heart-yellowstone · 3 months ago

Text

16 Governor Dutton

Part 17

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35

4 years Later

Rolling over in my spot in the bed I stretched my limbs out seeing that I had woken up before my alarm had gone off. I shifted my body where I ended up laying on my right side facing my husband who was still asleep right beside me. It was a rare change that I ever got to watch him sleep. Normally he would already be up and heading to the barn even though he knew we’d both officially start work at the same time before the sun had even risen up in the sky.

Shifting myself to sit up against the pillows I gently started nudging him awake by pushing my hand against his shoulder. “Kayce. Kayce, hey. It’s time for work.”

“Mmm okay.” He grumbled rubbing the sleep from his eyes tossing the covers and quickly shrugging his work clothes on.

Changing into a dark red flannel, dark blue jeans and some muddy black boots. I plucked my hat off the hook near the door dusting off the light brown cowboy hat, placing it on my head looking at my husband. “Time to go to work.”

“You said it, Lissa Rae.” Kayce kissed my forehead and we exited the house together getting in his truck to meet the Livestock Agents out by the border.

Exiting the truck I smiled in his direction seeing he already had a horse waiting for me. Climbing up on it the wind moved hair in front of my face. "Your father is getting the governor job today. Rip's got to manage the ranch for an entire party tonight. I don't think there's ever been this many possible people there."

"Yeah well I sure as heck never expected him to take the position to begin with...but now it's...real." Kayce chuckled but I could hear the shock in his tone. If there was one type of person I never expected John to become, it was governor. He only cares about what is best for the ranch. Meaning that he would destroy the possibility of an airport and more before it had even been a month I had no doubt about it.

Clicking my tongue and getting my horse to move we raced with the others to make sure the people trying to cross the boarded with stolen horses didn't get away. My horse turned to a stop as one guy tried to move around me. Yanking my reins the other way my horse got directly in the face of the bad guys horse where I could shove them back onto our side. Kayce caught one guy almost escaping on horse back until he roped him by the waist throwing him down into the water. He then jumped off cuffing him and sending him with our officers. "Man I gotta say I like starting my day like this. Riding horses and watching you rope, Kayce." I smirked resting my chin in the palm of my hand.

"Oh you do...well who knows your cowboy might have something else up his sleeve later tonight." He flirted back climbing on his horse riding back to the truck but not before sending me a wink seeing me blushing a little.

Getting back to the ranch we got out of our truck seeing a bunch of people and tents already set up. Rushing inside the house we changed out of our work clothes and into something formal. Kayce in one of his button up shirts and jeans with his hat. Me in a simple orange dress and brown boots wearing a light brown cowgirl hat on my head. "I'll get us drinks. Be right back darlin'." He kisses my cheek as I caught sight of Ryan and the other cowboys playing around with ropes. Slowly walking over there was a girl trying to show like she wasn't watching them but I could tell she was.

"Which one of them is eyeing you. I work with them all. I can be a good judge." I smiled leaning my back against the fence seeing my sister in law Beth walking over to Rip who was watching the party from up on the hill.

The girl shakes her head in denial but failed. "I'm not gonna get with any of them. They can't be devoted to both you and a place like this.. I'm Abby by the way."

She sticks out her hand that I shook. "Alissa Dutton, nice to meet you." Staring back at the boys I saw Ryan staring over our direction with a smile. "I think you should reconsider the whole not dating a cowboy thing. If you find an amazing one you'll be suprised."

Kayce comes our way carrying two beers in his hands grinning which is something that doesn't happen often on this ranch. "Well who would you suggest, him?" She pointed at my husband, making me snort out a reply immediately.

"He's taken, honey." Pointing at Ryan with my index finger she followed where I was pointing. "Him though I slept with a few times. Trust me he's good."

Kayce hands me my beer, tipping his hat to Abby beside me offering me his arm for a dance. "Care to dance, darlin'?"

Sitting my beer on the ground alongside his I spun him on his toes dragging him onto the dance floor by the stage that had a live band. "I just hooked Ryan up with a girl. Look over there. That's her." His eyes shifted over watching Ryan playfully rope the girl in for a dance with his charm making me smile.

"Good for him. Now if only we could stop that from happening-" He scoffed lightly tilting his head in the direction of the barn allowing me to see Faith and Carter spinning the other around as the music played. He had gotten taller and our daughters hair had gotten longer. I knew it was a matter of time before we have to have the talk about periods and what not.

Kayce spins me out and back into his chest throwing my hair around. "Don't you worry cowboy. We've got a while before they completely grow up on us." He intertwined our hands together again and our boots kicked up dust around.

Exiting the barn the next morning Rip had assigned Carter to ride John's horse. Faith and I climbed on our saddles. Kayce was having our other kids help clean up from the party. "Cart you're missing something." She called out to him as he was running around in a panic making sure everything was good.

"What am I missing, Faith?" He asked, halting in his tracks.

She giggled tipping her tan hat up to him where he smacked his forehead cursing as he got it from the barn finally climbing onto the horse. "Hat shit. Where's the hat!"

Kicking my horse in the belly I led the kids out following the others to see them moving the cattle. Faith and I worked pretty well together. Carter got one until his horse fell into a hole. Whipping my head around I raced over seeing his arm messed up. "Carter, you alright. What hurts?" My motherly instincts kicking in seeing him not being able to raise his arm.

"You need to keep one eye on the cow and the other on the ground." Rip orders seeing the horses legs didn't look too good.

Carter looks at Faith almost in tears as she pets her grandfather's horse. "Is the horse gonna be okay?" She shakes her head no seeing Rip reach for the rifle on his saddle.

"Rip, wait a second. That's John's horse. There must be something we can do.." I trailed off rising to my feet and securing his arm holding the shotgun.

He slumped his shoulders allowing me to see regret in his eyes. He hated having to kill a horse everyone knew that. "That leg won't heal, Alissa. We can't have him suffering." He gently pushed me aside with Faith pointing the weapon and killing the horse.

Closing my eyes I immediately replied towards my daughter. "Liyod, help him with the saddle. Alissa, take Carter back to the barn." She nodded helping him to his feet and the three of them removed the gear heading back towards the barn.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in the main house bedroom I dug inside one of the drawers finding an old badge that I didn’t carry on me anymore. Pulling out the badge from the wooden drawer I brushed my thumbs over the old silver Livestock Commissioner title that was in my hands. “My father should have passed the position down to you instead of me.”

“Nah. My daddy didn’t raise me to do politics, Kayce. He raised me to be a rancher, that's all I know.” Shrugging my shoulders I raised my head seeing my husband standing in the doorway.

“That’s all I know how to be too, darling.”

Kayce crossed the room ditching his boots crawling on the bed to sit behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

“What’s on your mind?” He softly asked me.

Turning around so I was able to look into his deep brown eyes I draped my arms over his shoulders. “I think we should take down the fences that connect our family ranches. Let the two largest ranches combine into an even bigger one.”

“Alissa-“

I cut him off shortly knowing how it sounded. “I know it would create a larger target on both of our families backs but we won’t be two similar families fighting against the same enemies. We’d be one big family fighting against the people who want to take our land from us. So what do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea. But what about your father?” Kayce knits his brows together.

Laying my head against his chest Kayce kisses the crown of my head. “I’ll talk with Alana. She always convinces him.” Kayce nodded, eyeing the Livestock Badge on the foot of the bed.

His father may think that he was meant to wear the badge. In reality though the woman in his arms was made for it more than he ever could be.

He just needed to convince his father of that now that he was Governor.

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currentlyfckingurmom · 2 years ago

Text

Little Sun

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, alcohol, nightmares, kissing

2.2k words

NEW YORK, 2012

You had no idea what these things were, but there was an endless stream of them pouring from a giant hole in the sky and you were doing everything in your power to stop them. As soon as you killed one, another would attack. After hours of fighting, your body was worn down and you were exhausted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blur of red. A woman was being tackled by one of the giant aliens. Using all of her strength to keep her attacker at bay, she failed to notice the other coming up behind her. Before you could think twice, you sprinted as fast as you could, sliding between the alien’s blade and the woman’s body.

You felt the sharp, cool metal pierce the skin of your stomach. Two gunshots rang out, signaling the aliens’ death as you looked down at the red oozing from your stomach. Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized that you weren’t healing like you should. I must’ve exhausted my powers, you thought.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, continuing to fight the onslaught of aliens.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you breathed, extending your hand for a handshake. She lifted a brow at you and gave you a onceover.

“I’m Natasha. That wound looks pretty bad, there Y/N. How are you feeling?” “Like I just got stabbed by an alien,” you grunted out as you shoved a fist through an alien flying at you, tearing out his throat. “I’ve been worse, though.”

Your head whipped to the side at the sound of a kid screaming, and before the redhead knew it, you were off. Gone and out of sight.

Turning the corner of a building, you found the honey hole. There were hundreds of aliens crowding the street, tearing everything apart. “Well this might end badly,” you mumbled to yourself. The aliens turned to you, screeching and charging. “Oh yeah definitely gonna end badly.”

Bracing for impact, you were quickly surrounded by aliens as you motioned for a little boy and his mother to run away. You took the aliens down quickly, but there were just too many. You felt claws tearing into your side as you kicked one of them away.

After what felt like days, you were surrounded by countless dead bodies, wheezing heavily from the strain on your body. Your powers weren’t healing you due to the exhaustion, but they were keeping you alive.

Trudging through the lifeless pile of aliens, you plopped down on a curb against a street light. “Motherfucker, that hurt,” you mutter.

And then it all went black.

⧗

A steady beeping slowly seeped into your senses. The stiff sheets were cool on your legs. You could feel a needle in your arm, pumping something unknown into your veins. Your breath weakened as you began to panic. The odor of sanitizer flooded your nostrils. No, no, no, I can’t be back here. They’re gonna kill me. I can’t be back here.

Jolting upright in the bed, you scrambled to rip the IV out of your arm. You ripped the monitor off your chest and jumped out of the bed, searching for something to use as a weapon. An alarm began to blare and your heart jumped into your throat as you took off down the white hall. A group of people rounded the corner, and you stopped dead in your tracks, prepared to fight.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You demanded.

“Hey, look, take it easy–” a tall blonde man started.

“Who are you?” You yelled again.

“We’re the Avengers. You’re at our tower,” a brunette man said.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. You’re safe,” a raspy voice said from behind you. You hadn't even heard her coming.

“Natasha?” Your shoulders relaxed slightly at the sight of the redhead.

“You were pretty banged up. We found you passed out on the street and brought you back here to heal up. Figured you were safer here than in a hospital where they’d discover your…abilities.”

“Right, okay. So you guys…aren’t….” you trailed off before changing your words. “You said you’re the Avengers? What’s that?”

“We’re a ragtag team of people trying to do something good,” the blonde man from before said.

“And our boss really wants to speak to you,” Natasha smirked.

TWO YEARS LATER

Natasha walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, surprised to see you there. You were sitting at the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. She couldn’t help but notice the slump in your shoulders and circles under your eyes that had been haunting you lately.

“Detka, everything okay?” She spoke softly, but you still jumped at the sound.

“Yeah,” you tried to laugh. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.” She sat on the stool next to you, watching you closely as you avoided eye contact and took another sip of Crown.

“I know when you’re lying to me, Y/N. Something’s clearly wrong. But I won’t make you talk to me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“I’m sorry, Nat. I just…I just have nightmares sometimes,” you whispered.

“About your past?” She asked the question genuinely, but was hoping to get more of an insight into your past. She had looked into you when you first met, of course, but there were only files up until you turned sixteen. After that, you were a ghost.

“Yeah, something like that,” you smiled bitterly. Natasha moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your eye, but you flinched away. In the two years of friendship, never had you done that. You almost looked ashamed, she thought.

“Solnishko, what’s going on with you lately?” A tear fell silently down your face but you didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“I don’t know how much you know about me. I’m guessing there’s not much on record after the age of sixteen. But I grew up under pretty shitty circumstances. My dad was a prick. He’d beat on my mom until she couldn’t walk, and then she’d drink away the pain. At first she tried to protect me, but eventually she gave up and left. I wanna hate her for it but I can’t bring myself to.” You sniffled. “My dad would bring me down to the basement and kick the living shit out of me. He’d whip me with his cane until I couldn’t move, and then he’d lock me down there for hours. Sometimes days. So, that sucked,” you choked on a bitter laugh. “And then I was kidnapped and brought to God-knows-where.”

“Y/N…” Natasha hummed, tentatively reaching out. She breathed a sigh of relief when you took her hand.

“I’ve been through so much shit. I was tortured and experimented on for two years, but…I always have nightmares about him. Even the nightmares of the HYDRA facility, he’s there.”

Natasha took a mental note that you were held in a HYDRA facility, and that’s where you got your powers. But she tucked that away so she could focus on you.

“Look at me, detka,” she mumbled, turning your head to face her. “You are so much stronger than him, okay? And I don’t mean the super strength. You’re gonna be okay. I don’t know if this pain will go away or if it will always hang over you, but I can promise that I will be here by your side no matter what. Forever and always.”

“I’m so fucked up, Nat. I don't belong here. I’m not a hero,” you whimpered.

“You couldn’t be more wrong. You are the greatest person I’ve met, and despite the shit you’ve been through, you still put your life on the line to help other people. That doesn’t mean nothing. You might be fucked up, but I am too. All of us are. You belong here. You belong right here next to me, okay?”

You tried not to dwell on that last part. “Okay. I’m sorry, Nat. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” You pulled back and wiped the tears away, and Natasha only wished to have you closer again.

“Don't apologize for feeling, Y/N. It’s what keeps us human.”

Your eyes bounced between hers and darted down to her lips. You forced yourself to turn away and take another swig of whiskey, burying those feelings down the same way you had been doing for two years.

“How about we go watch a movie in my room?” Nat suggested, knowing that you liked being in her room better. She could tell you felt safer there than in your own, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah, okay.” You cleaned up after yourself and then followed the redhead to her room. She turned on an old James Bond movie and you smiled as she mouthed along to the film. In the dimly lit room, her emerald eyes reflected the TV screen. Her eyebrows fluctuated with the scenes of the movie as her lips followed the words. You breathed in her familiar perfume and shampoo.

“What are you looking at, Y/L/N?” she smirked

I’m in love with you, you thought to yourself. “Thank you for being here for me,” you said instead.

“Always, solnishko. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” She gave you that look with her thumb rubbing circles on your hand, and your stomach clenched with longing. It hurt so bad that you wanted to cry. Because this impeccably kind, strong, caring, and drop-dead gorgeous woman was sitting in front of you, and you were so in love with her. But you couldn’t have her. She had shown no signs of feeling the same way.

Instead, you turned to watch the movie in silence, waiting for Nat to fall asleep before you gave in to your exhaustion.

Natasha found you in the gym early the next morning, dripping in sweat. You punched the specialized heavy bag mercilessly, venting your anger and frustration with the world. At that moment, you were extremely grateful that Tony had designed a punching bag to hold up against yours and Steve’s strength.

Natasha walked closer, taking in the blood seeping through the wraps on your hands. She frowned, worry knotting her stomach. “Solnishko, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you panted with a false smile. “Just getting some energy out.”

“Oh, okay. Well if that’s the case, do you wanna spar?” she asked, seeing through your lie.

“Yeah, sure.”

Inside the ring, you let her charge first. As she went for a basic 1-2 combo, you grabbed her right arm and twisted her around. But before she could hit the ground, she kicked backward at you, knocking you off balance. Her thighs wrapped around your neck and pulled your body towards the ground. But you had sparred with her many times, and her signature move no longer took you by surprise.

You held onto her calves and twisted your bodies so that she landed flat on her back with an ‘oomph.’

You straddled her hips, pinning her arms with a victorious smirk. “I win.” “I guess you do,” she said quietly, her cheeks turning pink. The uncharacteristic blush prompted you to realize the position you had found yourselves in.

“Oh. Oh, uh, sorry, I’ll-” You moved to stand up but she grabbed onto you, holding you in place. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and ears.

“How many years is it gonna take us to talk about this?” She husked.

“Huh? I- I don’t know what you mean, Nat.” You laughed awkwardly. Oh my god.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so off around me?” She realized she wasn’t going to get an answer and smirked before continuing. “Detka, you could’ve just said you wanted to kiss me.” She leaned in closer, her breath fanning over your lips. “Do you want to kiss me, Y/N?”

You nodded slightly and that was it. You weren’t sure who leaned in to close the gap, but it didn’t matter. You were above Natasha Romanoff and her lips were on yours. The kiss started slow at first. Tender and careful, saying so many things. But as hands began to wander and tongues itched to explore, it quickly had moans spilling from your throat.

Natasha pushed you up into a sitting position before straddling your lap. Her hands pushed up your shirt, traveling underneath it and skimming the underside of your bra.

“Nat,” you practically moaned. “Not here. Not like this.”

She looked at you through blown pupils, confusion etched on her face. “What do you mean? You don’t wanna have sex?”

“No! I do. Trust me, I really do. But in case you haven’t noticed, you mean a lot to me, and you deserve better than a quick fuck on a sweaty gym mat. I want to take you on a real date. The whole nine yards.”

She looked absolutely perplexed at this proposal, and it angered you that no one had treated her well enough for her to expect such a thing. Eventually, she smiled softly and pecked your lips. “I’d love that. And in case you haven’t noticed, you mean a lot to me too.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst

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shinynewboots · 9 months ago

Text

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 8

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Hi all! Very excited about this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it (I essentially had big word vomit today lol it's crazy how motivated I am to write when I am well-rested). I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

Warnings: 18+, Violence, gore, smut eventually, Adam-typical misogyny, alcohol use, slight sexual themes

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

Lute was almost certain that at this point in their tentative relationship with the Hell princess, Charlie would have been more than willing to help her and Adam to get to the Embassy. However, Lute also knew that this truce of sorts was contingent on the fact that she and Adam were here in Hell and unable to spearhead the Exterminations. Sure, Charlie was sunshine and rainbows and full of hope in all beings. The other residents of the hotel were not as trusting.

The Extermination Day countdown atop the Embassy that loomed over the city had ceased ticking after the failed extermination. The numbers had been replaced with question marks. Though Lute had no baseline for any sort of peace in Hell (as all of her prior visits were filled with chaos and carnage), the other residents had alluded to the fact that Hell was in a state of calm since it appeared that extermination no longer existed.

And there were political issues that Lute listened to when they were spoken about near her but did not give much thought to. Why should she? Her and Adam would be leaving this place of the damned soon enough.

“Valentino’s been more on-edge than usual,” Angel sulked, nursing a cocktail. “Apparently none of the new sinners want to make a fucking deal with him and now he’s making it my problem.”

“Word on the street is that a lot of Overlords are getting antsy,” Husk offered, “Especially since the last extermination day. Lots of angelic weapons just out there in the open.”

“And why would that put an Overlord on edge? You’d think they jumping with fucking joy now that the big scary exorcists are nowhere to be found,” Adam scoffed, his curiosity begging him to join the conversation.

Husk gave Adam a curious look as he cleaned the bar and looked between Angel and Adam. “No extermination day means less incentive to make a soul deal with an overlord. Who needs protection now if the biggest threat to eternal damnation has been chased off?”

Lute had packed a small backpack with supplies she thought they might need on their journey to the Embassy. While she did not anticipate a confrontation, this was Hell and constant vigilance was required.

Her Egg Army had been useful in procuring weapons for her to pack. Fred had borrowed a knife made of angelic steel that had been left over from the extermination. The knife looks oddly familiar to the one that had been used to stab Adam but best not to look too much into it. Blue and Orange had found a pistol with angelic steel bullets. While Lute was unpracticed in the art of shooting, she knew she could make it work in a pinch.

And Yellow. Simple Yellow had grabbed snacks from the kitchens that the pair could take on their journey.

“Dude, good thinking,” Adam said, happily taking the snacks from the simple egg and packing them in their travel bag. Lute rolled her eyes as she loaded the pistol, the angelic steel bullets feeling oddly familiar in her hand. The Eggs had gathered in their room, looking expectantly up at her. Even Keekee must have sensed something was off, as she stood in the same lineup with the eggs.

“When are we leaving, Lieutenant?” Fred asked, a simple smile on his eggy features.

“WE,” Lute said, pointing to herself and Adam, “Are leaving soon. You four are staying here.”

The eggs frowned and their eyebrows furrowed. “But when will you be coming back, Lieutenant?”

Lute sighed and looked over at Adam, who shrugged and reached down to give Keekee a scratch behind the ears. The cat purred in delight and rubbed her body against Adam’s leg.“Soon. But if anyone asks, we’re still here, right?”

The eggs nodded enthusiastically, pleasing Lute. “Alright, now scram.”

The eggs took their duty as minions very seriously and did just as their mistress asked, running out of the room in a haphazard waddle. Keekee followed similarly, chasing after the eggs.

“More like ‘scram’ble,'' Adam said as he stood up from his hunched position, laughing as he picked up the knife. He played with it in his hands, passing it back and forth between his fingers. He looked at himself in the reflection of the blade, his golden eyes reflecting like miniature suns.

“Very funny,” Lute deadpanned. She pushed her hair behind her ears to keep it out of her face. It had grown quickly during her time in Hell and was closer to her shoulders than she could ever remember it being. Strands of hair caught in the metal pieces of her new arm, so she tugged until they broke free.

She had been adjusting to her arm surprisingly well. She was very impressed by the details Asmodeous had added. She was able to feel sensation almost as well, if not better, in her metallic arm as compared to the original. It was also stronger and so Lute felt confident she would be able to hold her own if it ever came down to it.

“Are you ready to go?’ She asked, throwing the back over her shoulders and wings. The wings had been a concern at first, as they worried they would be recognized by Sinners on their journey. However, after further thought they realized that no other sinners knew their true origins and there was such a variety in the makeup of sinners that they wouldn’t look too terribly out of place unless they began to bleed.

“Yeah, I’m ready to get the fuck out of this place,” Adam said, walking towards her and putting the knife in his back pocket. “I do want to tell you something though, just in case.”

Lute frowned and turned to face him. “Just in case of what? Adam everything’s going to be fine and we’ll be back in Heaven before nightfall.”

“Just in case,” He said, grabbing her face in his large hands, similar to the way he had done after the fight with Vaggie. Golden met Golden, and Lute felt her heart sink into her stomach. “Something happens—”

“Adam nothing’s going to happen,” Lute argued, trying to shake her head though she failed spectacularly due to the gentle pressure Adam was placing on the sides of her head.

“Lute, let me speak,” He said, his voice soft with a serious tone. Lute closed her mouth quickly. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get to the Embassy or if Heaven will even answer. Shit, I don’t know everything. But what I do know is if I had to be stuck in Hell with anyone, I’m glad it was with you. I lo-appreciate you, Lute. You’re my best friend.”

Lute’s mouth formed an O shape and suddenly the ability to speak no longer existed. Her mouth had run dry. Adam searched her eyes for a second before dropping his hands and pulling away from her, his body turned away from her.

“Sorry, that got really mushy and gross. Just forget about it.” He said, his wings wrapping around his body.

Lute felt as though she were an ice sculpture melting, and the ability to move, to think, to act was rapidly returning to her. She reached out for his shoulder with her new arm, intending to only give a small tug. However, she was still learning her strength with the appendage and so the gentleness became an almost forceful pull and Adam was brought face to face with her. His eyes were downcast and unable to meet her own.

“Uh, no, no Adam, I won’t forget about it. I’m sorry, I’m not good at this,” She said, her hands motioning all around the room. “But I wouldn’t fight through the pits of Hell for anyone else. You mean so much to me, Adam.”

She watched Adam’s mouth curl up on the side, a small smile he seemed afraid to give into. His eyes have softened, and he is looking at her strangely. Suddenly, she finds herself engulfed in his strong arms and her body flush against his own.

He is radiating the familiar heat that Lute has become accustomed to at night, in the dark where no one can see, and voiced thoughts become forgotten by morning. Her head is resting on his chest and she can hear the steady beat of his heart. His arms have wrapped around her body and hold onto her like a drowning man to a lifejacket.

His chin rested on her head and his eyes were closed, taking in the moment for a while longer. But then the moment was gone and Adam pulled away. He looked down at his loyal lieutenant, his best friend, his Lute and smiled softly. “Alright, let’s stop being pussies and get the fuck out of here.”

Lute nodded and hoped that the blush on her cheeks was not as visible as she feared it was. She hoped this line that they have crossed can be maintained even when they leave Hell. A piece of her felt like an addict; she now knew what this little slice of perfection tasted like, how could she ever be expected to give him up?

Another part of her knew that this closeness they had developed would not last in Heaven. He would go back to being her commander and the mythic First Man and she would go back to being his loyal lieutenant, always so close and yet so far.

Lute shook herself out of her musings and was brought back to the scene at hand. They had slipped out of the hotel through the garden. There was a spot in the fence that Lute had discovered on one of her morning runs. It was just big enough for the two of them to slip through and leave the safety of the hotel.

The Embassy shone in the distance and Lute was grossly aware of just how far the trek would be on foot as opposed to flying.

“Alright Lute, we just gotta lay low,” Adam said, his voice low as they walked the streets of Hell. Various sinners walked the streets, most minding their own business. The streets smelled of piss, blood, and sweat. That didn’t stop the citizens though, as this was the most crowded Lute had ever seen the Pride ring (of course, it not being an extermination day had everything to do with it).

Apart from the literal dumpster fires, cannibals in the streets, and gunshots, the entire street wasn’t so different from Heaven. Though she had never been to earth, maybe this coupled with her time in heaven was the closest she would ever come to experiencing life as a human.

“Dude, that's fucking gnarly,” Adam whispered as he stopped to look at the various advertisements and shop windows. Lute looked over to see a picture of their newest acquaintance, Fizzarolli, holding something called the Dragon Driller 5000.

A bunny sinner that the pair had been walking by looked over at Adam and shrugged. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried, sugar. I’ve got three at home.”

Adam opened his mouth to give a very Adam-esque reply. Sensing the degeneracy, Lute stomped on his foot and replied. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

The bunny looked Lute up and down before sending her a wink. “Looks like you’ve got your little boyfriend trained already.”

Lute gave the bunny a strained smile. “I try.”

Lute could feel the utter need to speak radiate off of Adam.”It was nice talking to you, but we’ve got to get going.”

“Alright sugar, rain check on getting that dragon driller though! You and your boy toy would have a great time.”

Lute nodded and pulled Adam away from the scene, her cheeks burning at the implication. “Come on. You’re not really practicing what you preach, huh? What part of laying low did you not understand?” She whispered sharply.

“I’m sorry, bitch, I can’t help it. There’s just so many possibilities here. Couldn’t help but stare,” Adam whispered back, shrugging his shoulders, and looking around at the other shop windows.

“Come on, let’s keep moving,” She said, walking briskly ahead of him. They were only a few blocks from the Embassy and while they had not had any negative interactions yet, all it took was breathing wrong in some sinner’s direction for all of Heaven to break loose.

Lute walked past an alley and was met with a rush of cold that was an unexpected contrast to the otherwise hot streets. She looked back at Adam to make sure he was close behind. And he was, though walking a bit more leisurely than she would have cared. She shook her head in annoyance and continued.

She passed another alleyway and felt a cold figure wrap around her, covering her mouth and pulling her into the alley. Her eyes were wide in shock as the figure continued to wrap its shadowy tendrils around her body. Lute recognized that bone-chilling coldness as the same one she had encountered at the hotel

The fucking Radio Demon.

Lute should have known that he would have his loyal shadow follow them. They should’ve been smarter. But he had kept his guard dog in check for the last few weeks and Lute very rarely saw anything hiding in the shadows around the hotel anymore.

Fuck.

Fuck the Radio Demon.

Fuck Adam for deciding to window shop now of all times.

Fuck the Bunny Sinner and her promotion of her disturbing sex toys.

Fuck.

Lute felt like she was screaming. Even if she was, she wasn’t able to make a sound due to the shadow’s penetration of her mouth, her nose, and her ears. Darkness began to ensnare all of her senses until there was nothing.

The shadow chuckled. Master would be proud. He was tasked with keeping an eye on the golden-eyed-ones. Master knew they were up to no good and so the shadow bid as Master asked and followed them through the streets of Pentagram City.

The shadow kept to darkness, skulking the alleyways and keeping watching on the golden-eyed-ones. Master had said if they were getting closer to the golden building, to take action. And so the shadow did as he was asked.

The silver one had gotten ahead. The shadow had already had a taste of her a few times at the place Master now lived. Her fear called to him and shadow took great pleasure in engulfing her fear and soul, sucking the light from her body.

And so, the shadow chose to strike. The silver one fought back, as was expected, but she was no use for the shadow’s darkness. The shadow engulfed her in the alley intending to take her back Master. Her spirit was delicious. It was a wonderful mixture of dark and light matter that the shadow couldn't get enough of.

The shadow began to move, to take the silver one to Master as a prize.

A rock moved. The shadow looked up.

The shadow turned to see the big one standing at the start of the alleyway, a knife brandished in his hand that gleamed in the light of the city.

“Get the fuck away from her,” The big one screamed, lunging for the shadow and the silver one. The shadow screamed, the sound high-pitched like a banshee. Two birds, one stone. Master would be pleased.

The shadow began to spread its tentacles so that it would catch the big one in its grasp and immobilize it. The big one fought against the shadow, screaming out and thrashing, until he fell still.

Perfect, the shadow thought. The perfect gifts for Master.

“Tell your master I said he can suck my fucking dick,” The big one said and he began to thrash once more and sliced through the shadow with his angelic steel knife and escaped his grip. The shadow screamed, the most anguishing screaming as a piece of its shadow tendril fell to the ground and dissipated, unable to regenerate to the shadow.

The big one sliced again, another tendril of the shadow’s falling to the ground and disintegrating with the shadow powerless to stop it. The shadow screamed once more, pulling all the warmth from the area, and quickly began to release the silver one, who fell to the ground.

The shadow took in the scene and made a choice: Flee and feel Master’s wrath.

“Lute!” Adam yelled, dropping the knife as the shadow disappeared into the dark alley. He ran to her and fell to his knees, pulling her up and cradling her to his chest.

“Lute,” He said again, pushing away the strands from her sweat-covered face. Her breathing was shallow and her skin was ice cold. “Lute, come on, wake up.”

Lute began to cough and sputter, the color coming back into her face. She took in deep breaths and looked around the scene in fear.

“What, what happened,” She coughed out, her eyes meeting Adam’s.

“The fucking Radio Demon sent his fucking lap dog” Adam growled out. “He’s gone for now, but I don’t know how long we have until that bastard comes after us.”

Lute nodded, taking a deep swallow. She began to try and stand but couldn’t catch her footing before she fell back into Adam’s embrace. Adam’s features were dark, rage radiating off of his body. He looked down at her and knew he had to act quickly.

“I’m going to fly us to the Embassy.”

Lute’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Adam, no. On the ground we might blend in, but the sky? Everyone’s gonna know what two fucking angels look like.”

“I don’t care. We know the sky better than the ground. I’d rather take our chance.”

“Adam, I don’t-” She breathed out, her lungs still weak from drowning in darkness.

“Just trust me,” He said, gathering her in his arms and walking from the alley. She had no choice but to comply and no strength to keep arguing. He bent down to grab the knife and noticed it was covered in a black, tarry substance.

Thankfully, the altercation hadn’t even drawn one bystander’s attention (why would it? This was Hell.) and so Adam unfurled his golden wings for the first time in months and took to the skies, Lute cradled in his arms as he flew them both to a hopeful salvation.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #adam x lute #guitarspear #hazbin hotel lute #adam hazbin hotel #guardrock #lute x adam #staring at the sun #fanfiction

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bonnibellexox · 2 months ago

Text

A Place in the Apocalypse

An Original Short Story

Staring at a static-coated TV screen, my heartbeat throbs in my palms like a ticking clock that has been counting down since the day I was born. But it’s going faster than I’d like, so I take a breath and try to give myself a moment of clarity and peace, peace from the ticking.

If I had to guess, and I do have to- not many people are interested in keeping track, I pray we all have the better part of a day. That’s no time for anything truly meaningful, no round-the-world trips, no impulse purchases or dramatic makeovers, and no escape plans. It's coming, no doubt in anyone’s mind, even the most naïve, delusional, hopeful idiot.

I might as well find somewhere nice, somewhere poetic and meaningless.

Drifting out of my house, I lock the door behind me. Don’t ask me why, maybe I know I’ll have to come back now to get my things, because I can’t leave, I haven't packed yet. But I do leave, yes, I leave and I walk down the centre of the street, hearing my mother’s voice scolding me in the back of my head. In fact, she’s so worked up that I decide to calm her darling heart, stepping onto the footpath. She’d want me to be safe.

Ignoring my dim, constricting vision, I study the houses in my neighbourhood. Maybe I should have learnt their names, maybe they should have learnt mine. Well, much good that would have done us now, but it would have made then a little sweeter.

In any case, it's too late. They’ve all run off into the sunset, trying to find the edge of the earth where they can jump into the unknown. Because unfortunately, the fate of the world is very much known.

And yet, the bees still collect pollen, the birds still roost on tiny, fragile eggs that will never hatch, and the sap on the trees still coats and protects its open wounds, running down the bark like thick, vibrant blood. Nature still tries, be it denial or helplessness.

In all my cynicism and prideful certainty, I fail to notice the only occupied house. They fail to notice me either, playing with their children in the front yard as squeals of joy and elation warm my bones and slow my heart for just one more moment. In this tiny pocket of life, you would never know a thing was happening anywhere else, nor would you care. And when the mother locks eyes with me, there’s a plea behind her smile, a vow of silence she needs from me, but only until tomorrow.

So, I keep my mouth shut and walk past slowly, listening in to their delightful game and ignoring the ticking clock. Ah, an old classic. The kids are “the parents” and the parents are “the kids.” The dog is the dog, of course, and they all live in a gorgeous house by the sea. The “dad” is an astronaut and the “mum” is a marine biologist, so they have heaps and heaps of money, enough to have whatever they could dream of. The little girl explains how many horses they would buy and how all the kids from school come riding with them every weekend, because how could they not love the girl with such cool stuff?

She looks so excited.

Tick tick tick...

No, not here.

As the sun rolls away overhead, a calmness washes through me, a calmness like you’ll never know. Certainty will do that to you, I suppose. There is absolutely not a single thing to worry about, not work, not Christmas presents, not rent or chores or love. There is nothing left to think through or plan, only finding a place to tune out the ticking, and every second counts.

My attempt at bittersweet optimism is cut short as I get closer to the city, the smoke dragging across the asphalt and making my eyes sting. Even at my safest distance, rage and devastation have touched every inch. Broken windows, burning buildings, spray-painted car doors, or picket signs blaming everyone from politicians to the countries that have already been wiped from existence. But no one meant for this to happen, they just… didn’t see it coming.

They never looked, but that’s beside the point.

I gaze high above, skyscrapers worth my lifetime swaying deliriously back and forth, constructed of paper and deep pockets and never dreaming of an extended shelf life. Why not build a society meant to last? It's like we knew it wasn’t worth the effort.

God, why didn’t we look?

In the distance, church bells are ripped back and forth desperately for as long as their musician can stand, as if to say:

“Hello? Is anyone up there? Look! You’ve made a horrible mistake. But it’s ok! You can fix it… if you hurry… please…”

The flames of rage must not have reached them yet, particularly the lifelong believers and devoted defenders of deities who have realised that no god would condemn their children in this way. All over the world, temples are being destroyed by the hands that built them, all in the hopes of earning back the years that faith and community have stolen.

And yet, even at my feet, a man kneels with blood-red paint under his nails, smearing his own declaration across a 6-lane highway for the heavens themselves to see.

“SALVATION WILL COME.”

He’s begging.

And I’m begging.

We’re all begging.

Tick tick tick…

It’s a blur how I made it to the coast, the shoreline so withdrawn that the naked eye can only appreciate boiling, barren sand and the jagged, uninhabited rocks below. And based on the way the sun embraces the horizon, I feel I have less than an hour.

I’m joined at the cliff’s peak by a girl, lively and cheerful. She leaps from rock to rock, pacing to and fro with an unwavering smile. The ashy breeze blows her red curly hair into her eyes with each turn, but of course, that doesn’t bother her in the slightest.

“He said he’ll be here in an hour,” she declared at some point, poking at a piece of old, bleached coral stuck in the cracks.

I don’t know who “he” is but I hope he makes it. It’s such a simple request to not be alone, to be held and told you were all they wanted in their final moments, so surely this can be a grain of mercy for such a sweet girl. In fact, I’ll wait with her, just in case. Maybe that can be my last good deed in a world full of hollow favours, and maybe, I won’t be alone.

But the wind blows.

Her hair swirls from ear to ear, tangling in her eyelashes.

And in her scrambling to regain vision, her bare foot slips and she plummets straight to the unforgiving rocks below.

Tick.

There’s no help for her, no sane person would even bother. Hospitals have been abandoned and I have no way to reach her. But it wouldn’t matter anyway, she’s gone. So, I leave her for him to find, so he knows that she waited...

No, not here.

Lavish beach houses are no exception to this anguish, the crackle of gunshots piercing the air. But no return fire, for there is no one left to fight or defend when you’re alone with all your money. To sacrifice the time you have left for a sense of control, or punishment is a sentiment I struggle to grasp. And yet, as the sky swirls a merciless, smothering black, I comprehend their escape more and more.

No, every second counts… Not here.

Finally, a naturally occurring marvel offers me some peace and quiet, a cave system that has been transformed into a tourist destination. I find an empty, torn-apart gift shop, overgrown weeds meant to give a sense of untamed nature around the public bathrooms, and staircases that have been soaked with rarer and rarer downpours leading guests deep into the caverns.

Plunged into a soothing darkness, I read the signs and activate the small audio devices that adorn the railings.

“These limestone stalagmites are over 780,000 years old…” The voice drones on.

What a legacy.

Pillars like bared teeth surround me as I wander off the marked path, squeezing into unexplored pockets the size of ballrooms. Every step I take is like a tempo to dance along with. But the ground begins to tremble with fear, droplets of mineral-rich water raining down like tears of heartbreak.

Nothing can be done, but at least I found my place.

So, I lie down in the moist sand, likely untouched for centuries, and catch the last glimpse of the tree roots swaying high above before the distant lighting system flickers off. In the pitch black, I can only feel the dust crumbling onto me, and hear the wind humming through the chambers like a deep, anxious breath.

“Thank you for everything… I’m sorry.”

Tick tick tick…

The End

Like this? Well then, why don’t you check out my book, Status Quo (coming this year!)

@status-quo-book

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miitgaanar · 4 months ago

Text

Whumptober prompt!

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | “If my pain will stretch that far.” (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

This is for me and @editoress and that is all.

**********

“You’re hurt.”

A gruff, familiar voice stopped her dead in her tracks. She cursed softly. She didn’t have time for this.

“I’m fine,” she bit out and moved to continue on her way up to the cliffs above Malleolus’ villa. She had to get there before Ulpius jumped. She had to save someone today. Already she had failed Iulia, and Fabia lay crushed beneath the stone pillars of a collapsed temple. Again. She couldn’t handle another failure, another wasted attempt to set things right. She couldn’t handle another death.

She felt a hand grab for her forearm, ripping a pained yelp from her lips.

“Apologies,” Horatius said, quickly releasing her, though his eyes remained fixed on the fresh burns marring her skin. She gently cradled the arm against her torso. He frowned. “You must go see Lucretia. A burn that severe will only fester.”

Nausea gripped at her gut. If she had to see Iulia’s lifeless body one more time, she might very well cast herself into the chasm.

“No—!” she snapped, and Horatius flinched slightly at the outburst. A familiar guilt clawed at her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I just have something I need to do.”

She tried to leave again, only to have Horatius block the way. She stared up at the sky—what she could see of it, at least. The sun had yet to crest the top of the cliffs that trapped them all in this hell. She still had time—but just barely.

“Please—” she tried again. Horatius stood firm.

“I’ve seen men live through fearsome, bloody battles, surviving blade and spear and arrow, only to be felled by a fever caused by an untreated wound.” His gaze softened ever so slightly, the severity of his words giving way to something gentler. “We’ve lost enough people in this little community. To lose another—a newcomer, at that—would be a blow that we’d never recover from.”

Her heart splintered at the earnest entreaty, undoubtedly borne of Sentilla’s disappearance. It weighed heavier on him than she had realized. But still the sun rose higher, and Ulpius’ demise drew ever nearer.

“You don’t understand, Horatius, I—” She froze, realizing her mistake too late as he stared at her, his eyes wide.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, uncharacteristically bewildered. He stared at her openly, his brow furrowed. “Have we met before?”

She winced, his scrutiny nigh unbearable. “Galerius,” she quickly said. “He said there was a legionary by the name of Horatius in town. I just assumed…”

She trailed off, holding her breath—though there was no need. Horatius immediately relaxed, a look of vague irritation written into the lines of his face.

“Galerius,” Horatius muttered, a note of vexation in his voice, though that was all he said on the matter. He looked her over with the calculating eye of a soldier, a sigh escaping him as he appeared to come to a decision. His hand drifted to a small pouch hanging off his belt. “If you won’t go to Lucretia, at least take this.”

He held out a small object, smaller than even the palm of her own hand. Tentatively, she reached out to take it with her good hand, studying it closely. It appeared to be a clay jar of some kind, the cover sitting loosely atop it. It felt frighteningly fragile in her rather clumsy hands.

Unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, “What is it?”

“My girl—she never did trust the gods with my life.” A soft, fond chuckle escaped him. “She gifted me that bit of salve the last time I saw her. Couldn’t bring myself to tell her that it wouldn’t amount to much if I were to be gutted by a barbarian’s spear.”

“I can’t take this,” she immediately said, but Horatius held up his hands, taking a half a step back from her.

“She’d want it to be put to good use,” he said, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Not collecting dust in a forgotten pouch on my belt.”

She wanted to argue that it had clearly been far from forgotten, not with how fast he reached for it, but the sun continued to climb, and the minutes continued to slip through her fingers.

“Thank you,” she said simply, gently tucking the jar into the front pocket of her pants as she sidestepped the legionary. “I gotta go, Horatius. I’ll see you around, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response as she took off at a run, her arm throbbing in time with the pounding of her heart.

-----------

"THE MANY SHALL SUFFER FOR THE SINS OF THE ONE."

That terrible, booming voice echoed throughout the small city, signaling the end of yet another failed loop. Her heart sank as the sky darkened, though she was quickly jolted out of her anguish when the golden statue next to her came to life.

And so she ran.

What had it been this time? Had it been something she’d done? Something she hadn’t done? What had she missed?

Goddamn it. Goddamn it all.

Tears welled in her eyes as she ran up the stone steps leading to the shrine of Proserpina, all the while ducking golden arrows shot by ghastly golden statues. The temptation to simply stop, to allow one of those cursed arrows to hit home, was stronger than she wanted to admit.

But she climbed those last few steps to the shrine, leaping over Sentius’ skeletal remains at the entrance as she dove for the portal he had summoned. Again.

And so she fell through time and space.

Again.

-----------

The shrine was just as she had left it: pristine marble floors and stone pillars, all gleaming in the early morning light. The sun shone brightly as it rose somewhere beyond the cliffs that encased them within this forgotten little city, casting long shadows along the ground and high, rocky walls.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to stumble down the shrine’s steps, spurning the ever cheerful Galerius and his usual greeting.

She tried to ignore the hurt that flickered across his face as she dismissed him, as much as it pained her to do so. But she had work to do. She had people to save. She had a curse to break.

Her arm continued to throb as she descended the stone steps. She gently prodded at the reddened skin, hissing as it smarted at her touch. If only she’d been more careful. If only she hadn’t fallen upon that lit brazier.

If only.

She looked up to see Horatius standing guard outside the magistrate’s villa. His usual spot at this time on this day. She could feel the outline of the jar he had given her in her pocket, the delicate little thing somehow having survived a leap through time. A terrible melancholy fell over her as she caressed its rough surface. He had given her something so very precious to him, something that had been gifted to him by someone he clearly loved very much. Someone he might never see again.

And he didn’t even know that he had. Not anymore.

His gaze flickered toward her, and, unable to stop herself, offered him a small wave and a smile. He nodded briefly in acknowledgement, but paused, his eyes fixed on her.

“You’re hurt,” he said, not unkindly.

She froze midstep, staring at him. His dark eyes were soft, his brow furrowed in concern beneath his helmet.

And then her heart shattered, and she couldn’t help but burst into tears.

#Horatius #The Forgotten City #The Oracle #writings from mandalore #whumptober #writing prompts #literally only ONE PERSON will know what this is and that one person is Liz and i don't even care #i will be the honorable legionary content i want to see in the world

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shallowseeker · 2 years ago

Text

Beach Boys

Dean hates that this beach is public.

There’s too many noisy folks, and now a roaming wad of douchey bros (you know the type) is courting Sam for beach volleyball.

Sam looks dumbfounded, like he hasn’t noticed how tall he is, and how that might make him first pick for the intramural beach-losers’ draft.

But Sam, being Sam, quirks an easy grin and says “sure.”

Ugh.

Jack throws puppy eyes, and Sam asks if he can play, too. The dude-bros shrug, friendly in that oily, college-keg-totin’ kinda way.

“I’ll play,” Mary says, jumping up and giving Jack a gentle nudge. “Show you the basics.”

Well, Dean doesn’t wanna play.

It’s been Hell getting his overlapping towels just right so none of the friggin’ hot sand grates against his skin.

The group of college bros move off to the net a little ways down from them and plops their enormous Arctic Cooler keg (surprise, surprise) off to the side.

Rowena pulls her sunglasses down, peeks appreciatively at the mass of tan, muscly bods, and makes to move her entire setup closer, umbrella and all.

“You comin?” she trills.

When Dean shakes his head, she pulls off her oversized hat and plops it on top of his head.

“Suit yourself.”

///

Sam gets the hang of it pretty quickly, but then, he barely has to even jump to spike the ball.

Mary is good—quick on her feet and able to skitter through the thick, ankle-floppin’ sand like a human sand-crab.

Jack is—not good. He misses more than he passes, and his first serve doesn’t even go over the net. The college bros jeer, and Dean squeezes his empty beer can hard enough that it crunches.

He mentally names them: Smirky Opie for the tall redhead, Stifler for sunglasses guy, and A.C. Slater for the dark-haired one.

They’re all dicks.

Dean can tell.

“You can do it!” Mary keeps saying, and Sam just claps his hands like some kind of deranged rec-league coach.

When Jack digs his first spike, Dean whoops for joy. When Sam slams down a kill, Rowena whistles.

///

“They seem to be enjoying themselves.”

Dean hadn’t heard Cas come up.

“Yeah,” he says absent-mindedly. “You got the better stuff?”

Dean peeks up, and Cas’s face is shadowed by the glare of the sun. But he’s got two drinks in hand, one deliciously chocolate and frothy-looking.

“Oooh, gimme.”

Cas dutifully hands over the creamy glass of Bushwacker. Then, Dean watches Cas watch him gulp it down. Finding it difficult to keep his gaze, Dean tracks his eyes back to the game, where Mary misses a block at the net.

“Hold this,” Cas says, and a shorter, orange-colored glass gets shoved into Dean’s free hand.

Dean takes a whiff. Rum?

“Whatcha get?”

Cas’s lips twitch, “Jungle bird.”

Dean fails to hold back a smile. “Nice.”

“Rum, pineapple juice, and Campari, though I can pick out many more molecules than that.”

Cas stoops to snag his own towel, discarded and messy on Dean’s right side, then snaps it mid-air, sending tiny granules spraying too near to Dean’s nest of towels.

“Hey.”

“Sorry.”

Cas re-spreads his towel and settles down, no more than a foot of space between them. Dean glances over, finds him lying flat with both eyes closed.

Cas’s hand shoots out expectantly, and with a fond snicker, Dean sets the Jungle Bird in his open palm.

When Cas takes a small swig, his mouth bumps up against the slice of lime hooked onto the glass rim. His unoccupied hand rests against his stomach, looking extra tan against his plain white tee.

Dean kind of wishes he’d move it, maybe drop it strategically into the space between them.

Dean blurts out, “You don’t wanna play?”

Cas squints one eye open. He looks curiously to the volleyball net.

“Not particularly.” Then, “Those males seem somewhat mean-spirited.”

One of the dudes gets hang-time and crams a spike so hard into Sam’s face that Sam barely gets his wrists up to shank it.

Yeah.

“You have more towels than when I left.”

Dean rolls his eyes. So what if he’d hogged the towels? So what if it made more laundry that they'll have to do tonight?

“Sand’s itchy as fuck, man. You see that beach house five doors down? S’got a hot tub built into their deck.”

Cas’s eyes close again, languid and as close to relaxed as Dean’s ever seen him.

“Hot tub. Wouldn’t you find that oppressively hot in summertime?”

“Not at night! That’s the real time to enjoy the beach anyway.”

Cas stares at him for a long time. Dean can’t parse it.

“Yes,” says Cas.

Dean clears his throat and glances back to the game just in time to see redheaded-douchewad-Smirky Opie spike the ball into Jack’s dopey, smiling face.

Blood sprays from Jack’s nose, and Smirky Opie grins wider.

Dean’s blood pressure goes through the roof.

#when i can’t sleep #i say goodbye to summer #ficlets

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jiecomic · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 10- The Mirror Blade

Previous|Table of contents|Next

In the Monkie Kings cave

"One.."

"Two"

'...'

"Nineteen... Twenty..."

"Twenty one-

BOOM!

As soon as Jie heard MK hitting the ground she turned around to write down the score of his duel with Monkey King, it was a clear lose since Wukong won nine- no wait... ten times!

It was only a second before Monkey King landed on the ground in...less hurtful way than his student.

"Jie! How long this time?" He came excited to Jie knowing the good news he was about to hear

"Twenty one" answered Jie "A whole 3 seconds more than last time" her sarcastic smile didn't destroy Wukong's good mood

"Better! So much better!" He went to MK in order to praise him

At that moment Jie stopped looking at them. Instead she focused on the Mirror blade in it's scabbard laying on the rock next to her.

She took it and sat down on the floor. From the time she got it back she liked to feel it's weight in her hands, it was somehow relaxing. But she wasn't ready to open it, not yet...

"Now..."suddenly she noticed Wukong approaching her "Me and Jie will show you what the real focus is!"

Huh?

"I don't remember agreeing to that"she glanced at her master

" Don't be like that, it's... for educational purpose!" Wukong tried to make her agree

Sigh

"Ok"Jie stood up, but no one missed the fact that she still had Mirror blade in her hand

"WAIT!"suddenly MK stood between them "Is it what I think it is!? Finally I'm getting to see the epic; fox vs monkey, servant vs master, Jie vs Sun Wukong fight?!

Instead of answering Jie showed her battle-ready pose, after jumping back Wukong did the same.

MK took a seat and started filming (for Mei).

It took a while until Jie finally said- "Please... make your move first, master"

"Hah... very well" Monkey King smirked And jumped into the air

He made a few backflips in the sky and was getting his fist ready for an attack. Jie of course noticed it and was getting ready to block it, a red stripes showed on her face, her hand held the weapon tighter and her legs moved to make her pose more steady and when Wukong was about to attack she... moved aside?!

The way she made it so unexpectedly made Wukong so surprised he didn't get to react and fall flat on the ground.

For a while there was a silent for everyone to help them process what just happened, only now MK realised that the fight was over.

"Guys... I might have spaced out for a bit because I have no idea what's going on here" He said

"Same here buddy, same here..."Wukong muttered to him standing from the ground

As he was trying to get dust off of his clothes Jie muttered something

"...It's not answering.."

Hm?

"The mirror blade... It's not getting out!" She said while showing how she was trying to get the weapon out of the scabbard effortlessly

"Tsk... You know Jie.." Monkey King took the weapon from her "If you're really that scared then just addmi-

He stopped talking after he also failed to get it out

After that he was fighting with scabbard in many ways but still failed to even loosen it.

"Why isn't it working? Is it rusty? GASP! Maybe Iron Fan used some spell!"MK started talking some nonsense

"It's not that there is a problem with blade... It's because of me" Jie announced calmly while getting the weapon back in her hands "The mirror blade doesn't simply choose it's owner, it has rules..."

"Rules?" This time the one to ask was Wukong

" Yes... the user needs to follow three rules: energy control, peace of mind and the goal. Since many things happened to me all this time when the blade was out of my reach I failed to follow it's rules...

"But... you'll be able to use the blade again, right?" MK looked at her

"I... don't know"

"Master I need your help!" Jie announced as quickly as MK went back to work

" In what?" Wukong looked at her with confusion

"The reason why I can't use the mirror blade is because of your energy that I have as a result of our contact but because of how chaotic it is I can't control it at all!" She explained

"So... You want me to... teach you?

"I guess there's no other way-

"AWESOME!" He smiled " Now I have two students"

"...If that's how you prefer to call it" she muttered to him "So, what's your secret master?!"

Monkey King crossed his arms and thought for a while

"If I was to be honest... I have no idea!" He laughed

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!" Jie shouted but then realised that she shouldn't rise her voice at him "ahem... I mean, is there really no... rule, theory or... anything?

"Nope!-I'm just letting it go and do what it likes!"

"It sounds...awful" Jie didn't even hold back before saying that

"Well how about just trying to learn to use it?"

"I'll.. might give it a shot, I need to get a hold of it somehow, right?

"I can't use it!"

Jie came before Wukong after an hour all tired and exhausted.

"Yeah... looking at you I can guess it's not that easy, well it's my energy after all!"He admitted proudly

"Yeah and because of how chaotic and impulsive it is I can't control it at all!"

"I told you already" he came closer to her"Instead...-

FWIP!

"Let it control you!"

Jie was surprised as she merely avoided Wukong's fist aimed for her head, not long after that followed a kick.

She didn't get if her master was helping her, or getting revenge for before

"Wait!" She shouted before avoiding the next punch"What am I supposed to do?!"

"Stop thinking!" Monkey King explained, but didn't stop attacking her "stop analysing every move, give the control to your body not brain!"

"Then give me a chance"

"HAHAHAHA, nope!"

A next attack followed by a kick and his whip-like tail. Jie felt exhausted from avoiding them but knew accepting them won't end well either.

And at the end, when she was near her limit, the attack from before returned, Wukong was back in the air getting his fist ready, there was a chance for Jie to teleport quickly...

But then... something very strange happened

Jie took out the weapon, and with scabbard on she... blocked it!

It took a while until she realised what just happened, when she turned her gaze towards Wukong he just smiled proudly " That's how you fight in the monkie king style!"

Jie couldn't hold her smile as she noticed a golden symbol shining on the scabbard of the mirror blade.

"It actually worked!"

"Congratulations, you passed the first lesson, which leaves two" Monkie King praised her allowing himself to pat her head a little

" Yeah two..." Jie's mood started to drop down

"Hey, you know... I just ordered a few noodles to celebrate, mind keeping me a company?''

After a while a bright smile returned to the demoness face, she nodded her head and put the blade aside...

'Only two rules left...'

Previous|Table of contents|Next

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk oc #lmk mk #lmk au #fox servant #jie

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yuri-is-online · 1 year ago

Note

Call me tragedy anon w the way i slurp that shit up real. Okay but in all /srs i'm a firm believer that most love stories or stories in /gen in TWST are mainly happy love stories tragedy? Never heard of them!!!

But i think most would be more fascinated to figure out thats its popular in Yuu's world. Like why??? Don't people not like being happy more than sad? and its true!! But there's always something cathartic about well-written tragedies (imo at least) and people enjoy that feeling. Personally the media i enjoy and stick to me the most are usually the ones that have open ended or ambiguos endings that leave a bittersweet after taste in your mouth. Something about retrospecting and finding peace that yes even though it never ended well, there was happiness, or maybe if not happiness then maybe peace to be found in a story like that. The love was still there!!!! Do you understand!!!???

Orpheus can never be with Eurydice ever again, but the two loved each other!! Icarus will always die but the sun kissed his face!!! Do you understand!!!!!!!!!!

I want to thank you for sending me this on valentine's day. It is so fitting I should have answered immediately.

Welcome to the stage tragedy annon! W takes in this ask right here your brain is massive.

Orpheus can never be with Eurydice ever again, but the two loved each other!! Icarus will always die but the sun kissed his face!!! Do you understand!!!!!!!!!!

I UNDERSTAND I AM THINKING I AM FEELING I AM CRYING BUT I FEEL SO FULFILLED!!!!!!!!!!

I really like happy endings and have a hard time playing the bad end in otomes but one of my favorites, Birushana has these tragic endings that I have done some of and GOD. The image of Shungen screaming at Tomomori as he cradles Shanao's dead body, saying he can't just take her away as Tomomori prepares to jump into the ocean and drown with her only for him to say "You misunderstand, she is taking me." .·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·. i am crying, screaming, throwing up etc. and so on because fucking damn that's what it's about. The love is so real it has to endure even when everything else is gone.

I think that Idia might find some morbid comfort in that concept which is why I mentioned the Orpheus and Eurydice connection in his long fic musing. I don't think he would find it romantic necessarily, but certainly comforting. Like at least by Yuu's weird standards his curse isn't the major set back he thought it would be and even if things end badly they will still see it as worth it? That's weird, odd, and something he outwardly wants to make fun of but not something he really can when that's what he has come to believe too after his overblot.

Jade and Azul both work really well for this too. Azul because he believes love is inherently exploitable, so the idea that stories end badly in your world just further cements his own bias. The idea that you would consider the bad ending to make things no less real or valuable though, THAT he would need some time with. What do you mean Orpheus fails to save Eurydice is the point of the story? He has a hard time coping with the idea of losing already, adding that into romance as a selling point doesn't make sense from a consultant's point of view. You want to win in the end no? Not just be left ugly crying alone. Jade on the other hand... I just like to see him eat shit on something like this tbh. "Oh I would never do something like that, what an idiot for looking back-" Jade would actually show up at the gates of the underworld and he would still look back because he needs you to be there exactly like the myth foretold and he would be cursing fate the entire time.

I feel like I leave Floyd out of these sort of things so I want to add him here because I feel like he would dismiss the idea of tragedy as a good thing but not because he like. Doesn't think it doesn't exist or something he just doesn't care. He already knows the time you spend together will be enjoyable, and if it ends with death or with him going too close to the sun, well that was the point wasn't it? Kind of like he gets the point but not because of the example given. It's also why I could see him actually successfully making it through to a happy ending. He has this line in Chapter 7 when Lilia is scolding the Octatrio that made me scream because of how good of a job the VA did with it:

And if he says his place is a happy ending I believe he'd make it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #i was prepared to write and post like #actual fic and then an inconvenience occurred #god i should think more about tragedies with the boys #i have some thoughts about a jean of arc coded yuu and rollo #and then like some stuff with azul involving necromancy #don't worry about it

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choshifics · 1 year ago

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(Another) First Kiss: Chapter One

Everyone wants a second chance, Max more than most. For one fleeting moment, she thinks it's finally here, only to realize that it's all wrong, so terribly wrong. Now, she has to find out if a higher hope can lead to a better end, or just more time until she hits the ground. (A Pokémon Super Mystery Dungeon Adaptation)

“But we decided long ago We’d build a time machine and go”

—“(Another) First Kiss” from Severe Tire Damage by They Might Be Giants

Dreams of falling are very common. Because of this, they have an almost de facto interpretation for anyone researching them (almost always after having just woken up from one). The common consensus is they represent the psyche coping with a perceived “lack of control” since, generally, it’s pretty hard to control your descent when falling.

This makes enough sense for any bleary eyed sufferer to nod along and go right back to sleep. Unfortunately, it’s not quite so simple. It’s all in the context.

After all, a pidgey might be used to the sensation. Falling is an integral part to flying. It might enjoy the little experience for most of the dream’s duration without even realizing they can’t stop their descent until, well.

Their descent suddenly stops.

In this particular context, Max didn’t much mind. She’d spent the previous painfully sleepless night agonizing over every mistake she’d ever made. Loss was familiar to her, but that didn’t make it sting any less. Each one ripped a new part of her soul out. The only thought that brought her enough solace to finally fall asleep was the desperate, painful, hopeless wish that she could just go back to the beginning.

As she’d fallen asleep, she was so eager for some respite before the sun set that she failed to notice something akin to tendrils creeping out of her paws. They brought a warm embrace that she was too tired to question until it was too late. She’d fallen asleep and an oddly pleasant dream greeted her.

Wind rushed through her fur fast enough to batter her ears and tail into a hopeless loop of quivering shakes. They were at the mercy of aerodynamics, and so was she. It was fun, in an odd way. She spent most of her life barely over a foot above the ground, so the new vantage point was novel. Spreading her arms like wings, she felt the rush of sudden friction slow her descent.

Commonly known fact about dreams: they can’t cause pain. An easy way to tell if you’re dreaming is to pinch your arm. If you feel pain, it’s not a dream.

Of course, there are other ways to induce pain in someone. One sure fire way to cause pain is, well, fire. Thanks to the drag she’d just added, a bit of atmosphere started to accumulate and ignite right under her. What started as a pleasant warmth quickly burst into an all consuming inferno.

The singes felt familiar in the way any experience that drew on lost memories did. She recognized the familiarity without any idea where it came from. It was an odd thing for a mouse to experience twice, atmospheric reentry.

That slight difference in experience gave her an edge up over the pidgey. She’d known she had no control over this descent from the beginning, allowing her the opportunity to scream in terror for about a second before her descent met its sudden end, and, presumably, she met hers.

Her immediate, terrified leap into the air was a bit odd. She babbled in pika-speak incoherent even to her. After she landed from her jump, she froze. That was a mighty fall. She needed to check for injuries. The good news was she was still standing. Her legs and back were fine. Good. She managed a slight breath of relief thanks to that, but she didn’t stop there.

First, she counted her arms, relieved to find two, and with ten nubbins to boot. She brought both pristine paws up to feel for her ears and, again, found two. Neither hurt, but she pulled them down to check for sure. Both looked as pristine as her paws, not so much as a nick.

Her left ear was fine. It ended in the same point as it had when she’d… dropped in to this world. A pit in her stomach started to form as she finally started to remember how falling from the sky felt so familiar. She glanced around her to see a painfully familiar field around her calling at her from the void of lost memory, all the way down to the lake in front of her.

She couldn’t bring herself to look into the lake’s reflection for the same reason she couldn’t bring herself to look behind her. She knew what she would see—what she didn’t want to see. She clenched her eyes closed and smacked her head with her paws.

“Wake up, wake up, wake… up,” she started to chant, though her voice sounded off. The difference was subtle, and she couldn’t quite put her paw on what it was. The first thought was it sounded younger, which made sense. Of course she’d sound younger if she was suddenly transported back in time (how that was the most logical conclusion at any point made her head hurt if she thought about it).

She wasn’t waking up. When she hit her head, it hurt (despite the meteoric landing not doing much). She wasn’t dreaming. She was stuck like this. Taking a deep breath in, she prepared herself. It was time to face the music.

With a practiced flick of her tail, she brought it in front with her eyes closed. It’d be easier to feel the end than see it, so she hesitantly grabbed it with her left while her right ran down the two lumps on its opposite end. Eyes closed, her brow furrowed in sudden consternation. That wasn’t either of the two possibilities she’d considered. If anything, it felt like the tail of any other girl. Pikachu.

Her eyes shot open and confirmed that, not only did her tail end in a heart, but it even had a familiar little patch of black fur to highlight the shape.

It was a girl’s tail. Her tail was a girl’s tail. She had a girl’s tail.

“No way,” she breathlessly whispered. Even after checking so many times, she still felt the suspicion it was a dream. Her paws shot to her face to feel what else was different, but that was basically fruitless. Instead, she bolted over to the lake to look at her reflection. She rushed over so fast that she almost didn’t stop before leaping right in.

Luckily, the added friction of the grass allowed her to stop right as the nubbins on her forepaws tapped the edge of the water. It barely distorted the image of her reflection, luckily. She looked down at almost the exact face she’d always had. Her same eyes, the brown spot under the left side of her lips. But it was just a bit softer, just a bit brighter, and with the widest smile she’d ever seen in her reflection.

It was still her.

The jubilee had one minor hiccup. Her stomach turned a bit when she realized she had one more thing to check. In the same way she couldn’t bring herself to look at her tail a minute ago, she couldn’t bring herself to look down. She felt a phantom ache at the loss she already knew she’d see.

But, she couldn’t put it off forever. She stood up and, with the quickest of glances, confirmed exactly what she’d feared. “I-I-I,” she stammered, but it wouldn’t come out. It was already obvious, but how? She knew exactly where she was, exactly when she was—and she definitely hadn’t crash landed like this the first time around. With breathless confusion and surprise, she finally managed to shout, “I-I’m a girl?!”

One second of thought might’ve had her reconsider the wording (she’d been a girl before, after all), but that second didn’t come. Instead, a familiar voice asked, “Were you… not one before?”

Under any other circumstances, hearing that voice would make her jump for joy. She did end up jumping, but thanks to what she’d been inspecting moments ago, it was from sheer, nude horror. “Ithos!” she squeaked, trying in vain to cover herself with her paws. “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?!” Ithos flinched back, putting his arms up in defense, and it finally clicked for Max.

“ITHOS!” she screeched, dashing over and launching herself onto him. She latched on before he could resist, squeezing the familiar scales with tears already in her eyes. “Y-you—you’re here, I’m-” She cut herself off, finally catching her slips. He had no idea what she was saying, latched onto him like this.

More came with that realization. This was her first day there. This was the day that they met. This was the first time they saw each other. Ithos had no idea who she was. She was just some pikachu that fell from the sky, screamed in surprise about being a girl, then leapt onto him.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry!” Max sputtered, hopping off of him and backing away. “I just—I’m so sorry! You have no idea who I am, and I just-”

“Hold on,” Ithos said. Max shook her head, sparks of embarrassment bouncing off her cheeks. What a ridiculous first impression, how could she—what would Ithos think of her now?! She kept backing away in humiliation and terror. “Hey, wait!” Ithos shouted, but Max shook her head. Worse, his yelling started tickling into her instincts, demanding she continue her retreat, even if she knew he was only trying to say it was okay.

At least, that’s what she thought, but then, right as her hindpaw met air on one fateful step, he screamed, “LAKE!”

Right. The lake. It was right behind her, well.

Right below her, now.

The water engulfed Max before she had a chance to scream. She clutched her paws around her mouth in desperate horror, trying in vain to hold one last little pocket of air, but only getting water. Her limbs froze. She couldn’t even flail. The only other person who knew she was in here was Ithos. A charmander. Even realizing she was about to die, she couldn’t help an internal chuckle.

The trip down memory lane, straight to hell.

Then, something else crashed into the water. Her eyes were closed, but she couldn’t believe the burning scales she felt wrap around her chest. She almost let her breath hitch, but the paws around her mouth stopped her just in time.

When Ithos tried to swim up, though, he wasn’t exactly fast. In fact, he wasn’t moving up at all. He was sinking. They both were, but not for lack of his trying. His hindpaws hopelessly flailed in the water in useless motions that did absolutely nothing but intermittently kick Max.

An almost audible shift clicked in Max’s mind. Facing her death was upsetting, sure. It was terrifying to her, but not unthinkable. She knew life wasn’t permanent.

Ithos was a different story.

In an instant, Max twirled around out of Ithos’ grip to smack him across the face. It stopped his flailing while also spewing a few bubbles out of his mouth. Importantly, though, it seemed to calm him down (which might’ve been the sudden loss of air talking).

Max latched onto Ithos tighter than she had on land and starting violently kicking as fast as she could. It barely, slowly started changing their course, but it got them higher than Ithos had. With a grunt and more kicks, she even managed to get them to start ascending. Her lungs started to burn, but she kept on kicking with all her might, more oxygen than she had. She didn’t have any other choice but to keep going.

Her swimming lessons with Cori payed off; water flung off their heads as she shoved both of their heads up and out. As much as it terrified her to try, she couldn’t stop herself sucking in a gasp. Alive—she was alive. She was—she was swimming.

They weren’t out of the fire yet, though. She had to pika-paddle over to the nearest edge, grabbed hold of it with one paw while the other flung Ithos out. Her adrenaline started to wane, so she scrambled to yank herself out of the water before it ran out. She flopped down in the grass about a yard from Ithos—okay, still strong, that’s good.

A breeze froze the air on her fur; the fear caught up with her. She tried to reach for the scarf that wasn’t there and let out a squeak of terror. Her hindpaws started to numb. Those breathless gasps couldn’t bring air in, and she knew why.

Stone lungs can’t breathe.

She froze in place, every inch of her growing colder. She didn’t have her scarf. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t bear to try and move, couldn’t bear to fail, to feel stone’s non-response. The dripping of water down her fur froze her further. It was getting cold, so cold. Every bit of warmth fled her flesh as it turned to stone when suddenly, a very heavy, very hard bit of warmth smashed into her chest.

“D-don’t—hold on!” Ithos screamed before smashing his paws into her chest again. If she had been stone, she no doubt would have shattered. He actually managed to yank her out of the panic attack, yet didn’t stop slamming into her chest for even an instant.

The chest compressions were hopelessly erratic. If she’d actually needed CPR, he would’ve had better luck hitting her over the head with a baseball bat, but he kept smashing the air she would’ve used to tell him as much out of her chest.

Finally, he stopped for just an instant. Max started taking in a breath of relief when, all of a sudden, she felt something stopping her.

Warm scales. On her lips. Blowing air.

Again, she slapped her paw across his cheek, tossing him off her. While he rolled of her, she rolled over to heave whatever those compressions did to her out of her lungs. Oh God, her ribs—no, if they’d still been injured, Ithos absolutely would have killed her. Max rolled back to sit down just in time that she collapsed into a sitting position.

“S-sorry!” Ithos stammered. “I-I really—that wasn’t what I was trying to do! I swear!”

Max looked up to see the saddest, most terrified look of humiliation she’d ever seen on someone else. Even while Ithos rubbed his reddening cheek, the entirety of his attention went to her and the other paw waving his surrender. He was so terrified of what she thought that he hadn’t even noticed the lack of a flame at the end of his tail.

Max brought a paw to her mouth, eyes wide in disbelief. The absolute worst first impression she’d had to date—and that was saying something. She tried to use her paw to cover it, even calling in her other for backup, but that didn’t work for long.

A mix of a giggle and a snort chuckled its way out of her while the laughter started creeping into the rest of her face, and she couldn’t help it. She still couldn’t believe who she was looking at. Who she was talking to. Who she’d just slapped—twice. Luckily, the water absolutely soaking her managed to hide the burgeoning wave of tears.

“Wh-what?” Ithos whimpered, which only made Max laugh harder.

“Y-you can’t be serious!” Max cackled. “What—why would you dive into the water if you don’t know how to swim?!” She lost herself to another fit of giggles while Ithos sat a few feet away, simmering.

That simmering quickly turned to whimpers, though. The instant the sound tickled her ears, Max choked down the rest of her laughter, praying she hadn’t hurt him. When she looked at him again, his wide eyes were trained on his tail. “I-I… it. My.”

Max almost thought this was a joke, but his expression was far too sincere for it to be one. He was serious. He actually thought he was in danger.

Max took a few breaths for herself to calm and said, “Look, you’re okay.” She scampered over to rest a paw on his shoulder—hot, he was hot—and she ripped it away before it caught fire, swearing, “Kachu!”

“Sorry!” Ithos yelped, yanking his tail into his arms. Max could see the water boiling off him, yet the charmander didn’t seem to notice.

Max shook her head in disbelief. “Incredible,” she said, barely holding back another chuckle. “Y-”

“Sorry,” Ithos whimpered.

“Hey, hey! It’s fine, don’t worry!” Max said. She almost went in to hold him when she caught another glimpse of boiling water. “Here, let me see it.” She held out her paw, gesturing to his tail.

At first, Ithos pulled it back. Then, his eyes met hers and registered her shift to soft warmth. One paw at a time, Ithos let go of his tail and let it wiggle over to her. In all honesty, Max didn’t know what she was going to do to help, but she knew she could. She proceeded to follow her gut, motioning him to set it down on the ground.

“You’re not gonna die,” she reiterated. “It’s just a myth. Tail flames go out all the time, all right?” She glanced up to his eyes, but he wasn’t buying it. It was… honestly impressive that he’d fall for something like this. “If it happens, don’t worry.”

Max looked down at the tail, the tiniest hint of an ember of a memory starting to spark—right! “All you need,” she whispered with a bit of glee while she leaned down right next to it, “is a spark!” She let loose a flashy little shock from her cheeks and watched as a billowing flame burst out from the end of his tail. Perhaps getting closer wasn’t the best idea.

She leapt up, feral spewing out of her mouth while her paws rushed to her face to stamp out the flames. They didn’t find much, though, only a few patches of slightly singed fur. When she realized she wasn’t on fire, the laughs were quick to come. “Yeah, I shoulda thought that through better,” she chuckled.

“P-pikachu?” Ithos asked. “Did, why do you keep doing that?”

“Ka?” Max asked, slapping her paw over her mouth when she heard herself. Right, of course that would stay. Entirely new body, entirely new everything, but no, she still has this bullshit stuck in her head. “Sorry,” she said, careful with every syllable. She glanced around, eyes lingering on Ithos. Even after all this time, she was abysmal at hiding that she was hiding something. “Can you… keep a secret for me?”

Ithos looked her over again, starting to pull a bit of confidence back into himself before he said, “Sure.” In fact, Max thought she could spot the beginnings of a smirk. “My name’s Ithos, by the way.”

Max didn’t even notice her cheeks sparking, letting out a chuckle. “Right,” she mumbled. She looked away, already fully aware how this was gonna go. Pretty much everyone who had a reaction to her name had the same one. “Mine’s Max.”

“Max?” Ithos asked with a smirk, like his suspicions had all been confirmed. Max couldn’t help mouthing along when he said, “Odd name for a pika… chu.” Shit. He’d noticed. Max almost panicked, but he seemed to shake it off quick. “Was that the secret you wanted to tell me?”

“Oh, right, well, no,” Max muttered. “Or, yes? But, w-well, it’s, there’s another.”

“What is that?” Ithos asked. “You keep talking like that. Why?” He narrowed his eyes to raise a brow at her. He didn’t seem any bit concerned, just confused.

“Kachu,” Max grumbled. Did she need to explain this? No, that was ridiculous. Ithos knew about Dungeon Sickness—everyone did. “It’s just what it sounds like.” She couldn’t help a bit of sheepishness as she looked away, scratching at the back of her head. “Dungeon Sickness.” Even if it was embarrassing, though, she knew she could trust Ithos.

He didn’t immediately seem to respond, though, oddly enough. It must have been a lot to take in. He’d just seen her fall from the sky, and they’d both nearly died. That would make anyone need a minute.

Max took a deep breath and reset her head to neutral. It was more comfortable while also letting her see Ithos out of the corner of her eye. He might not know her very well, but she still wanted to make sure he was doing all right. Even with shoddy memory, she could still read him with ease. With just her peripheral vision, she saw him staring… maybe she wasn’t as good at reading him as she thought.

She almost thought he was staring at her, but that was ridiculous. Ithos had never expressed any interest in her before. More feelings than she expected came out in a knot when she reaffirmed to herself that he was probably straight.

She froze. If she didn’t move, she rationalized that the thoughts couldn’t see her, or maybe that Ithos couldn’t see her. He—she was a… more traditional girl, now. Even then, she shook the thought out of her head. Absolutely not. She’d never seen Ithos express interest in anyone, had she? Yet, when she inevitably took a glance to see his expression, she absolutely recognized it.

And he was absolutely looking at her.

It took a second for Ithos to notice she was looking at him. His eyes weren’t exactly on her face. A few sparks bounced off Max’s cheeks until Ithos finally met her eyes, and the scales on his cheeks turned redder than a charmeleon’s.

“M-mom-Mother Mew, I’m so sorry!” Ithos squealed. “I-it, I was just zoned out, I swear!” He threw both paws to his head, staring down exclusively at the grass.

Max suddenly didn’t feel any bit of embarrassment. In fact, with a quick once over of the charmander, she understood why it had kind of hurt to remember he was straight. It was almost embarrassingly cliché, when she thought about it. The Hero and The Partner, but she instead chuckled as she realized that between Ithos, Mandy, and Eleos, she absolutely had a type.

Maybe Cori would be an exception if she had feelings for them, but she of course didn’t and they weren’t.

Nevertheless… she certainly didn’t want to rush things. Seeing Ithos absolutely beside himself in embarrassment, a devilish grin started spreading her lips. She decided for absolute certain that it’d be better to take their time. For his sake, and nothing to do with vengeance, she resolved to simply not notice the little hint Ithos just dropped.

Hell, Ithos had missed all of hers.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Max said, wrapping an arm around Ithos’ back. He yelped at her touch, so to calm him down, she dragged her paw down his back, making sure not to go against the grain, and let muscle memory guide her. Her claws poked at the scales right under his shoulder blade, right above his tail, and watched the anxiety melt off his face. He was a lot more timid than she remembered, but maybe he had some growing left to do.

“Look, I don’t really know this place too well,” she said, patting his back. “I know we just met, but could I ask a favor?”

“What?” Ithos asked, starting to look more like himself. “Yeah, of course!” He looked at her with a befuddled smile, shaking his head. With all the cheer she expected, he looked at her like asking for help was hilariously redundant. The sight had joy bubbling up in her chest. It was just like she remembered him.

“I’m not sure I can find you a place to stay, but I’ll try my best!” he said. An ache started to form in the back of Max’s throat while she watched him practically trip over himself to declare his helpfulness. An idea flashed in his eyes like a fire, but he had to physically pull himself back. “O-or, well, there is one thing.” He turned away to scratch his neck; Max held him tighter without his notice.

“It’s just, well…,” Ithos stumbled to mumbles. Even still, Max could see that eager glint in his eyes. She couldn’t have said no to that face if she wanted to. “Do you know about Rescue Teams?” It helped that she didn’t want to.

“Yes!” Max squeaked, tears cracking her voice to bits. She couldn’t help yanking him into a hug while tears started streaming down her cheeks. “Yes! Let’s do it!” Gleeful giggles ripped out of her without any chance at resistance. Her mind raced, every single dream coming true right before her eyes. “A team! Let’s form a team!” It finally hit her. She was getting a second chance. She could finally do this right.

“R-really?!” Ithos cheered. He threw his own arms around her after the initial surprise. With her legs wrapped around his belly, she fit right in his lap, barely tall enough to rest her head on his shoulder. “Thank you!”

He tried to hop with her in his arms, but barely made it up off the ground and toppled back down. “Wh-whoah,” he grunted. “You’re kinda heavy for a pikachu.” Max couldn’t hold back a laugh. It really, really was just like before. “O-oh! But, so, we’ll need a na-”

“Plasma!” Max squeaked, unable to hold herself back. “Team Plasma!”

Ithos churred out a roiling excitement. “That’s perfect!” he cheered. He even let out a chuckle, shaking his head before mumbling, “I was about to say that, too.” He didn’t linger on that, though, before yanking her back into a tighter embrace. He shook with excitement while Max melted in the embrace she’d missed. He leaned down to declare, “We’re gonna be the best Rescue Team the world’s ever seen!”

Max’s ear twitched. The first time, she’d been too excited to care. It was one word, one synonym that was functionally the same thing. She figured it was just a slip of the tongue, or maybe she’d just misheard him. Even still, she wasn’t convinced she heard right.

“Hey, Ithos?” Max asked. She didn’t let go of him, but she extended her arms to lean back enough to look up at him. “Did you mean to say ‘Rescue Team’?”

“The plot thins, she’s waiting”

It had been one single afternoon. Max stood at the end of a short path that lead to a ratty hovel of a dome. It was the same shape as the house she’d borrowed in Pokémon Square. The main difference was the many, many exposed boards, and even a few holes in the walls. Definitely not the dorms Goon had shown her.

“Sorry, I know it’s… bad,” Ithos said. He looked to the ground a second before shaking himself out of it, throwing a fist up in determination. “But I know we can fix it up!”

“Right, yeah,” Max mumbled. “Sorry, I think it’s great!” She looked up to him with as much of a smile as she could manage. Even this wasn’t really her main concern. It was a bit… bad, but she’d been too shell shocked from signing up as the wrong kind of team to care.

“Besides, I’m sure G-,” she slammed her jaw shut before taking a breath. “Great friends of yours won’t mind helping!” She started to have a bit more of a genuine smile. She had a chance to try again with Goon, even. He might even end up not hating her. Max turned to see Ithos… suddenly downcast. “Ithos?” He was avoiding her gaze.

“Well, so…,” Ithos muttered, barely able to get a word out. Again, he had this… cloud over him that Max couldn’t remember. She knew he was a boundless bundle of hope. Half the time she looked at him, though, he had a shadow of despair on his face. “I don’t really… have any.”

“What?” Max asked. “Wh-yes you do.” This didn’t make sense. Ithos had to be the most amicable mon she’d ever met. Yet, she watched him wince in pain at her words. “O-or, I mean, look.” She rushed over to grab hold of his arm. “Sorry, it’s just.” She trailed off, struggling to find a way to speak that wouldn’t give her away. Ithos kept his eyes on the ground, practically dripping with self-doubt.

It broke her heart.

She threw her arms around him, making him yelp. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing him tighter before he could wriggle out of her grasp. “I guess, you just seem so sweet, helpful, fun, and great that I can’t imagine people wouldn’t fall over themselves to be your friend!”

Ithos stopped trying to squirm out of her hug as she spoke. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see a shadow of that gleam in his eye. He struggled to look at her, but couldn’t help a smile. “Y-you really…,” he mumbled before trailing off. Shaking his head, he finally wrapped his arms around her. She could feel him quaking in her grasp. “N-no one’s ever been so… nice to me. Thank you.”

Ithos squeezed her tighter; Max felt her heart shatter. This was wrong—so, so so wrong. Ithos was so full of joy. She’d only ever seen him doubt himself once! This was

“Champagne to celebrate?” someone asked.

“Do you mind?” Max hissed, not even bothering to look at whoever that was. She had much more important worries to—and he’d just walked on over to the other side.

“Champagne for the lovely team?” he said again.

Max grit her teeth, looking over to bark, “Not now!” She got a good look at a grovyle holding exactly what he’d offered. A bottle of champagne. He quickly ducked away, exactly as she asked, and she sighed in relief. What a weirdo.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and leaned back. She looked carefully, deeply at Ithos’ face. It was exactly who she expected to see. Exactly the face she remembered, and yet, there was something missing. That confidence, that glee, that unshakable hope, that—motherfucking grovyle was slowly lowering the champagne into her line of sight.

“We’re like, ten!” Max shouted, breaking out of Ithos’ hold to glare up at Grovyle.

“Wh-Max?” Ithos stuttered. He crumpled in on himself a bit as he whimpered, “I’m thirteen.”

“So sorry, I’ll need but a minute,” Grovyle explained. He tossed the champagne at Ithos, giving him no choice but to catch it, and flicked a shiny, blue-diamond rescue badge at the both of them. “I’m with the Rescue Team Society!” He shoved the badge back in his bag before Max got a good look at it. “That’s congratulations on the new team!”

He clapped twice with a ridiculous smile before switching his gaze down to Max. Looking into his eyes, she saw the slightest hint of something darker behind them. “If you’ll allow me one minute with this lovely lady, I’ll be out of your scales,” he said. His paw shot down to the ruff of her neck and grabbed hold before she had a chance to resist. “I wish you the best, ah,” he glanced back at Ithos to double check, “Charmander!”

Max hissed out screeches and squeaks of fury while fruitlessly trying to wriggle out of his grasp. She had no idea what she was saying, too angry to form a sentence. She was just waiting for Ithos to burn him to a crisp.

Instead, he managed to plop her in a cage, whipping a vine out of his paw to snap it closed before her paws hit the bottom. He reclined, crossed his legs, and shook his head, rubbing his eyes before staring down at her. He’d completely relaxed, as if he’d completely neutralized her, but she’d show him.

“Piiiii,” she growled, pulling charge into her cheeks before launching it towards him with a roaring, “KA!”

Her mighty bolt hit the metal of the cage and dissipated into the ground.

“Fantastic, get it out of your system,” Grovyle grumbled. “Then, you can tell me what the hell you’re doing here.” While Max kept trying, he sat back and tugged his bag forward for rummaging. She thought she had a chance with an iron tail, but that only made the entire cage ping with a ring so earsplitting she had to cover her ears, eyes screwed shut into a wince.

When she managed to peak one eye open, Grovyle was bent over with a pair of classic style 3-D glasses, red and blue lenses. “Nope, native,” he said, flicking off the glasses and tossing them back in his bag.

“Of course I’m—kachu,” Max half-screamed, half-grumbled. Grovyle patiently watched while she took a second to calm down before trying again. “Of course I’m native!” she spat. “I’m a pikachu, born and raised!” Whatever this guy thought he knew, she wasn’t going to let him know she used to be human—certainly not while caged.

“Born? A pikachu?” Grovyle hummed, tapping his chin with a claw. Pokémon hatch. Max could practically see the glee in his eyes as he watched her realize her mistake. She didn’t let that get her down.

“It’s a figure of speech,” Max said, rolling her eyes. “But yes, hatched, if I’m speaking to a pedant.”

“Pedant?” Grovyle scoffed, throwing a paw to his faux-broken heart. “Such lovely praise, thank you!” He flashed a malicious smile before narrowing his eyes. “Now, tell me what you did with her.”

“With who?!” Max shouted.

“The pikachu,” Grovyle said. “And don’t try to play games with me. I know you don’t belong here, impostor.”

“What are you talking about?!” Max hissed. The more she tried to figure out what was going on, the less she understood. “Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Grovyle said. “But I’m not going to let whoever you are muck up the time I’ve spent so much time fixing.” Max held tight to her glare to keep the bit of recognition shining through. “All I know is there’s a pikachu named Max that’s supposed to be here, and you’re not her.”

Max almost told him to shove it up his ass before his words finally started to register. Half of what he said made sense, but the other half didn’t. It was almost the same amount of sense as talking to Ithos. Grovyle was right, this wasn’t her time, but he also thought the pikachu was a girl. She was, but she wasn’t the first time she crashed down.

“Sorry, she?” Max clarified. She quickly shook her head. That didn’t matter. “Okay, wait, please.” Her paws came up to rub at her temples. “Look, I’m Max, I swear.” She looked up, half pleading with the half that wasn’t enraged to be looking through the bars of a cage.

Grovyle eyed her with the same scrutiny. The way he looked her over made her feel like livestock. His eyes scanned her, top to bottom, then finally landed on her tail. An idea seemed to shine in his eyes, though his anger seemed to be waning. Whether that meant he believed her or not, Max wasn’t sure. “The end of your tail,” he said. “Is that natural?”

Max instantly felt even less comfortable with him examining her top to bottom. “And what is that supposed to mean?!” she hissed. Grovyle was a bit taken aback by her reaction, but she didn’t care enough to stop. “What the hell gives you the right to ask if I’m ‘natural’?” That stare, had he been trying to figure out if she was—“However the hell my tail used to look doesn’t matter! It’s a girl’s tail because it’s mine!”

Grovyle’s eyes flashed in sudden, horrified realization for a split second before shifting instantly into even deeper confusion. “The—Pikachu, you know the end is natural, right?” he asked. Despite promising herself nothing he could say would calm her down, he did shock her out of herself.

She’d forgotten about that little change. “R-right,” she mumbled. “Well, yeah, of course.”

“I was talking about your fur,” Grovyle said. Max shrank away, sparks bouncing off her cheeks. “Is it dyed, or natural?”

Max took a deep breath, but it didn’t really help. Her ears were burning hotter than when she’d lit Ithos’ tail right in her own face. “Oh, that?” she squeaked. Glancing back, she felt a little leap in her heart. She hadn’t even had a chance to see her old tail out from under the bandages. This one looked pristine, cute, and it was hers. “Dyed?”

“Natural,” Grovyle corrected. “It should be dye, but it’s not. It’s a recessive gene that won’t exist for another eight hundred years, yet here you are.”

“What?” Max balked. Even if her tail wasn’t like that, Libré didn’t start existing eight hundred years after she met Ithos. “Eight hundred? Years? Are you joking?”

Grovyle looked over her expression to try and find the deception. When he couldn’t, his eyes got distant before he shook himself out of it and started mumbling to himself. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why is she here?” He hopped up to pace back and forth, continuing to mumble too fast and indistinct for her to make out.

“Yo,” Max said, getting sick of hearing him talk to himself. He didn’t seem to hear her and went right on mumbling. “Hey,” she called, a little bit louder, but evidently not enough. “HEY!”

Grovyle jumped, looking down at her with a mouth twisted into horror and disgust. “Excuse me?” he asked. “Not polite to yell, young lady.”

Max grit her teeth, eyes narrow as she could make them without closing them. “Polite?” she asked, placing her paws on the cage he’d trapped her in for emphasis. Grovyle’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. This seemed perfectly natural to him. “Says the guy who hasn’t even told me his name.”

“Grovyle,” Grovyle said.

“Your. Name,” Max snarled.

“No name, just Grovyle,” Grovyle answered with a dismissive wave. “Makes things simpler, doesn’t leave a trace. Hard to leave an impression that way, so.” He shrugged, looking down at her with a smirk. “Just Grovyle.”

“Just Grovyle?” Max asked, keeping her eyes narrow. She was doing her best to look at Grovyle the way Goon usually looked at her. It didn’t have the same effect on Grovyle, though. If anything, he seemed to relish in the glare. She took in a frustrated breath to prepare for an even more frustrated exhale. “Might as well call you Doctor.”

“Hatched and raised a pikachu, did you?” Grovyle asked, eye quirked in pseudo-confusion. Max flinched, cursing herself while he grinned. “Don’t worry, I already knew you were a human.”

“What, because I like their shows?” Max countered. This was way past the point she could recover, but she might as well try.

“’Their shows’ won’t be unearthed for another six hundred years,” Grovyle explained.

“That—no, you’re wrong,” Max said. She couldn’t even begin to figure out what he was trying to say. Cori had told her about the human artifacts they’d already discovered. Even if it had been that very year, that was three at most.

“Ready to admit you’re not from this time, yet?” Grovyle offered.

“I will when you will,” Max grumbled. “It’s the Rescue Society, not Rescue Team Society.” She looked up at him with a proud smirk of her own.

“Fantastic, she’s clever,” Grovyle said with a smirk of his own. “I’ll bet you noticed the badge, too, then, right?” He bent down to tug it back out of his bag, then showed it to her. “This rank doesn’t exist yet, either.” Max bit her cheek, failing to hide her frustration. He’d pretty much gotten her at this point.

“I’ll give it to you, though,” Grovyle hummed as he tucked it back into his bag. “You merely were unaware that rank had been a recent addition.” Crossing his arms, he reclined back with an almost genuine smile, at least the closest he’d shown her this far. “I guessed wrong.” Taking his arms back, he stretched them up to extend his back and sat forward. Despite saying he’d ‘give it to her’, he still looked like he’d won something.

“You will when I will, correct?” he said.

“Okay, fine!” Max said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, all right? I’m in the wrong time, but only by a few years! Not a few hundred.” Grovyle raised his brow, but gave her space to go on. “Look, I don’t know what happened. I was sleeping, I wake up, and I’m a meteor again. It’s the same day I met Ithos, but he’s… different, and I’m a girl.” Grovyle gave her a glance.

Max shrunk away again, cheeks sparking. “N-not, well, that’s obviously… how it was, though,” she muttered. It was a pitiful attempt, but she looked up anyway, hoping he’d pretend to believe it for her sake. He very clearly didn’t. Max shrank further, worried what he’d say about that next.

“Ah, so you are Ithos’ partner,” Grovyle said. “His second one.” Max blinked, suddenly worried she’d been sloppy seconds all this time. She’d known she was sloppy, but seconds? “Good seeing you again.” Before Max could even glance at him for that, he went on. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re….” He shook his head, waving the thought away. “Tell me, haven’t you noticed anything odd?”

“Well, yeah?” Max said. He was, evidently, a time traveler. She was more just frustrated he just implied they’d meet again. “Ithos is a lot more, well.” She searched for the least insulting word, before settling. “Pathetic.” At least he didn’t hear her.

Now that Grovyle wasn’t at her throat about it, she started actually thinking this through. “I know we’re supposed to be an Expedition Team, not a Rescue Team,” she mumbled. “The house is supposed to be a dorm.” A subtle horror started building in her chest. If Grovyle was here to stop her messing up the timeline, he might already be too late.

“O-oh God,” Max mumbled. “How fucked are things already?”

“Fret not, my foul-mouthed female,” Grovyle sang with spite. Despite the negging, Max was trying too hard not to grin about being called a female to be mad. “Luckily, there haven’t been any tremors yet.” Leaning back, he rested his head on his arms while looking down with a hint of pride in his eyes. “Because I got here soon enough to stop you.”

He preened at his accomplishment with a wide grin. “I’ll just get the right Max from…,” he trailed off. The pride and victory shattered before his eyes. “Wh-where’d you say you put her?”

“I didn’t!” Max said. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You did—you had to!” Grovyle shouted. He hopped up, holding a paw to his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. I fixed this, I had to! There hasn’t been a single tremor!” He shook his head as he began to pace again. “The problem is totally solved! Everything’s supposed to be fine after I leave!” He started pacing more and more frantically until suddenly shooting his gaze to her. “Well? Any ideas?” he asked.

Max just stared in amazement. Had he really expected her to chime in?

“Great,” Grovyle grumbled. “Great! I make one mistake, I don’t even know what it is, and now I’m stuck with another idiot human.”

“Oh, like you’re so clever,” Max spat.

“I am,” Grovyle said. He dropped down right in front of her. “Do you have any idea how serious this is?” He stared at her with rage she could feel. “This isn’t when you meet Ithos! This is a thousand years before you meet him!”

“A thou—he’s a charmander!” Max shouted.

Grovyle paused for a second, expression frozen. Max could see the gears turning against each other in his head. “Right, of course he is,” he said. He stared at her for a bit longer before finally shaking his head. “I have to fix this, and I have to fix this fast.” He dragged his paws down his face before looking down at her.

“You’re still his partner, at least,” he grumbled. He grit his teeth, mind racing for any other option and eyes growing more and more resigned while he couldn’t find one. Shaking his head, he growled something under his breath before facing her again.

“All right, you get to stay,” he jabbed a claw towards her, “for now!” Despite getting yelled at, Max nearly bounced in excitement. Time be damned, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Ithos. “But don’t you dare touch anything. Don’t you dare change even the slightest little event of the slightest little mission.”

“How am I supposed to know what happens?” Max asked, but he was already yanking his bag back on.

“Well, there were no tremors when I took it, so thanks for not drinking the champagne,” Grovyle said. “I’ll pick it up in the morning.” With a shrug, he looked down at her one last time. “See ya!” Without so much as a wave, he started running off, leaving Max trapped in the cage.

“Hey—Grovyle!” Max shouted, shaking at the bars of her cage. “Want my help? Then let me out of here!”

Without missing a beat, Grovyle spun around and started running backwards. “Never locked the top, dear!” he shouted back at her. “Besides, you’re waiting until I let you out to shock me!” He waved, turned back around, and disappeared from sight.

Max wanted to gnaw on the bars. She was really looking forward to shocking him. She went to push the top off and met no resistance. Every swear she knew came out in its pika-speak equivalent while she crawled out of that stupid cage. That entire time, she could’ve just hopped out and beat that smug look off his face.

“Whatever, whatever,” Max grumbled to herself. Hopefully he hadn’t taken her too far away. She only knew he’d taken her South thanks to her charge. With a grunt, she started down the road while her mind raced.

This situation was already absurd. She didn’t believe a single second since waking up entering the atmosphere, and now Grovyle was telling her a bunch of nonsense she believed even less. It left her head spinning when all she wanted to do was be with her friend again. She hadn’t seen him for years, and this Ithos didn’t even have a reason to hate her.

“Not yet, at least,” Max whimpered. Every possibility remained that she’d make the same mistakes or worse. She couldn’t even remember half of them. Hopefully more would come back as she spent time with him. Unless Grovyle was to be believed, this should be about the same experience as last time.

“A thousand years,” Max scoffed. That little part was too ridiculous to even shake her head at.

Ithos screaming in agony yanked her out of her thoughts.

“Ithos!” Max screamed. She hopped down on all fours to sprint as fast as she could. “Hold on! I’m coming!” Ithos didn’t sound too far away, but that might just be how loud he could scream. Among the things she could remember, the volumes of his screams hadn’t returned to her memories yet.

Heart racing, she desperately scanned her surroundings for the house while she barreled down the road. Right in front of her, some water type was having a peaceful stroll. She hopped around them with inches to spare, shouting, “Sorry!” Whoever it was yelled at her, but she couldn’t make out what they had to say above the winds.

Finally, she caught sight of the house out of the right corner of her eye. She banked right and shot right into the house. “Ithos! Where are you?!” she shouted at the dark—dark! The only light in the place was his tail. She saw him clutching his paw, sitting against the right wall and ran over to him. She had to weave around a few boards with crooked nails in on the way.

“Hey, hey!” Max said, laying a paw on his shoulder. Ithos flinched away at the touch before looking up at her with the biggest, saddest eyes she’d ever seen him give. “It’s all right. What happened?”

“Uh, so, well,” Ithos mumbled. He glanced at his paw before desperately looking away. “I-I thought, well, while you were talking with him, might as well get started on construction, right?” Looking up, he tried his best to force a smile before his eyes shot away from her gaze. Based on the un-nailed board behind him, Max had a pretty good idea what happened. She couldn’t see the hammer or the nail, though.

“I didn’t have a hammer, though, so I couldn’t nail them into the wall yet,” he continued. Max tilted her head. That explained why she didn’t see a hammer, but now she had no idea what he even could’ve been doing. “I just started pre-nailing the boards.”

“Pre-nailing?” Max asked. That definitely wasn’t a thing, but it explained the several discarded boards in there. Her stomach started to turn as she started forming a hypothesis.

He was holding his paw.

“Ithos, what were you using to pre-nail?” Max asked. She knew the answer was going to horrify her, but she was ready for it.

“Mega Punch,” Ithos said.

Max stared forward. While she’d been talking with Grovyle, Ithos had been punching nails into boards. Ithos had always had dangerous amounts of tenacity, but he at least wasn’t stupid. Max wasn’t sure even she had ever done this something so stupid. At least he meant well, but God how pathetic. It was beyond what she could’ve even thought of as a joke.

It made her desperate to propose.

“Hey, you’re all right,” Max said. She pulled him into a hug, running her paws down his arm. Hopefully it would help while she tried to figure out how to at least dull the pain. They didn’t have any bandages, ice, not even painkillers. It was just an empty house. All they had was that stupid bottle of—perfect.

“Here, I know what’ll help,” Max cooed. She squeezed him one last time before getting up to find the bottle. It sat nestled against the would be door frame, but it was hard to make out with the light streaming in from the entrance. She slowly pawed over to it, carefully nudging every ‘pre-nailed’ board closer to the wall. As she got closer, she noticed two mismatched cups nestled in with the bottle.

Ithos must’ve gotten those somewhere for them to use. “Aw, that’s perfect,” Max cooed. Nestling the bottle in the crook of her arm, she put one of the cups on top of it and carried the other one in her paw. Out of curiosity, she tried to probe at her surroundings with her awareness on her way back. Barely even trying, she felt the entire room.

She quickly tried to reign it in when she made it back to Ithos. “Nice cups,” she said, grin trying to burst off her cheeks. Pathetic or not, it was Ithos. “Here, this will help with the pain.” She needed to look at the bottle to figure out how to open it.

She couldn’t take her eyes off Ithos. It was him. It was really, really him. Just the sight of his face made her so happy she thought she might explode. The face she never thought she’d see again. Whether she got to stay for a few hours or a few years, she was happier than she’d ever imagined was possible just looking at his f—

“M-Max?” Ithos asked, ripping Max out of her thoughts.

“Sorry!” Max shouted. She nearly collapsed in on herself for having stared at him silently for she didn’t even know how long. “God, I’m so sorry.” Her cheeks sparked enough to rival his tail as a light source. “I probably look insane to you.”

“H-hey, it’s all right!” Ithos said. He threw his good paw up to wave surrender. “I, um.” He brought his paw to scratch at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mind.” Thanks to testing her awareness, Max could tell his cheeks had flushed despite the dark. “Whatever you were thinking about, you looked really happy.”

“Yeah,” Max chuckled. Either he was oblivious, or that unsure of himself. Based on her gut, she was pretty sure it was the former.

Putting the cups down, she started ripping the foil off the bottle to get at the cork. “We can clean this up after we go get some tools, how’s that sound?” she said with a smirk. Several slivers of foil floated down around them until she’d finally excavated the cork. She’d only seen this opened in movies, though, so with trepidation, she shook it a few times before smacking at the cork with her paw.

After the second hit, it shot open with a playful pop, and foam shot out right behind it. She tried to cover it with a paw, but only succeeded in redirecting the stream directly to her face. By the time she had a good seal on it, it had already stopped.

Max looked at Ithos. Ithos looked at Max. She’d completely soaked both of them. Again. Not quite as bad as the last time, at least. Ithos had his mouth cinched shut as tight as he could possibly manage while his cheeks puffed up in repressed laughter. His eyes begged her for permission. Little did he know, she was holding back some chuckles of her own.

They let their laughs out in unison, soaked and sticky, in the dark, run down house. Ithos kept laughing long after Max did, but she didn’t mind. She listened to the symphony with a growing smile while she poured some of what remained into the cups. It seemed like most of the champagne was still there.

She waited for him to finish laughing, too happy about hearing it again to interrupt. When it finally tapered off, Max nudged a cup into his good paw, raising her own when he took it. “A toast,” she chuckled. “To friends.”

Ithos’ mouth shot open into a grin while stars formed in each of his eyes. “To friends!” he cheered, clinking his glass against hers. He took a conservative sip before cringing and wiping his mouth. Max took her own sip and didn’t blame him, though she never loved champagne, either.

Ithos stared down at his cup, grinning as wide as his lips would let him. His eyes shone with the light of the world and enough joy to fill Max’s heart while she watched him. He shook his head in disbelief with another chuckle. With impossible glee and restraint, he whispered almost too quietly for Max to hear, just to himself, as if unable to believe the words, “To friends.”

“The morning alarm rings

I’m asleep but she’s talking to me She’s walking ‘round wearing all of my clothes”

Max couldn’t run fast enough. No matter what she did, she could feel it gaining on her. Whatever it was, she knew she didn’t have a chance in hell of living if it caught her, and her paws were starting to ache. She couldn’t see it, couldn’t see her surroundings, couldn’t see anything, working entirely off the building dread as it grew closer.

Everything from her surroundings to her own moving had grown so distant, so hard to make out already. She could feel her instincts clawing for control, and she was too busy running to fight them off. The monster chasing her started to close in on her as her instincts closed in on her mind. She would die, and her instincts would kill her before the beast did.

It had her by the shoulders, thrashing her. Before it dealt the final blow, it roared, “Max! Max! Wake up!”

Max shoved it off her and let out the strongest shock she could manage. The world was still pitch black around her aside from the light coming from the monster she’d thrown off. She almost made out slivers of light behind her and tried to run for them.

She slammed into a wall and started desperately clawing at it to get away. Her claws stung the more she tried, but she had to get away, barely even had control of them. The desperate need to flee overrode any thoughts she tried to form as she hopelessly tried to break through to the slivers of freedom she could barely make out. She couldn’t get anywhere, the glimpses of moonlight only twisting the knife.

“Max! What’s wrong? It’s just me!” Ithos yelled. Max spun around to cower against the wall. She pressed against it, made herself as small as possible in the hopes of escape while staring up in horror at him. He’d brought his tail forward, lighting every sharp fang in his maw that she could imagine tearing her apart.

“Piika pi ka,” Max whimpered, curling up as tight as she could. Escape was impossible. It was hopeless. She couldn’t bring her paws to run no matter how hard she tried. Already, she could hear the monster stepping up to claim its meal. Its warmth grew and grew around her as it stepped agonizingly closer, agonizingly slowly. With its fire, she only hoped it would kill her before cooking her.

It’s claws came for her back first and started gently combing down her fur. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” Ithos cooed as quietly as he could. He started rubbing her back in a few spots as his paw went down her back. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

He kept petting her, kept whispering comforts at her as her whimpers died down. The soul-rending terror took a while to abate, but he patiently continued tending to her. “It’s just me, Ithos,” he whispered, bringing his other paw to her belly. He lightly scritched the bit she wasn’t covering while still tending to her back. The fear started slowly giving way to a building peace and comfort.

The warmth that terrified her minutes ago now soothed her. She’d felt so cold, so alone, but now, she was neither. Her instincts were too preoccupied with the petting to keep her from wresting some bit of control back from herself. She blearily looked up at Ithos for some explanation.

“Kaa pika?” Max asked, shaking her head. She got a little bit of progress rubbing some sleep out of her eyes, though she still felt exhausted.

Ithos gave her a solid pat and pulled his paws away. “You all right?” he asked. While she rubbed her eyes some more, he bent down a bit to get a better look at her. So he didn’t startle her, he brought a paw to her back to soothe her just in case.

It was all barely a blur to Max. She struggled to piece together the rushed bits she remembered, but her nose was a great reminder of her little escape attempt. “Chuuuu,” she grumbled, cupping her nose with her paws.

“Max?” Ithos asked. When Max glanced up, he was looking at her eyes. She froze, shrinking away a bit as she realized what he was looking for.

“S-Sorry!” Max whimpered, hopping up to cradle her tail to her chest. Sparks spouted from her cheeks while her ears caught fire. She buried her face in her tail to hide her eyes, certain he’d only see the inky black of a feral.

Ithos put his paw on her head, slowly running down her back. His touch steadied her quaking while his voice, “Hey, don’t worry! I’m not gonna hurt you,” slowed her racing heart. He kept on petting her, siphoning her nerves away, until she built up the courage to peek one eye over her tail. This time, he was just smiling at her. His eyes met hers only to make contact.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, patting her back. His paw rested there, ready to soothe her again at a moments notice.

“Chuuuu,” Max groaned. She let her tail fall to her chest, but kept hugging it. Now that her instincts were calmer, she could manage to talk again after a bit of concentration. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look Ithos in the eyes. At best, she glanced up to see him smiling down at her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Ithos said. He pat her back a few times before she’d even noticed she was tensing up again. “What happened? Was that all because of a nightmare?”

“Sort of,” Max mumbled, trying not to lose her self in his touch. His warm paw against her fur warmed a part deeper than she could remember. “I’ve been like this for a while.” Her eyes scanned along the floor while she tried to build up the courage. “D-Dungeon Sickness.”

“Dungeon Sickness?” Ithos asked. “What’s that?” His hint of confusion met a tidal wave of her own.

Max looked up to see if he was serious, but he was. “Oh,” she mumbled in disbelief. She’d never had to explain this to someone before. Most of the time, she spent most of her energy making sure no one knew she dealt with it. “So, you know feral pokémon?” He nodded, so she went on. “Well, I’ve got instincts like one. If I get upset or stressed, they come out, and it’s really hard to put them back.”

“Really?” Ithos asked, sorrowful empathy in his eyes. “How?”

Max narrowed her eyes at him before her brain caught up. He’d just seen her enter the world through the atmosphere that day. She jerked her head away to avoid his eyes. His partner wasn’t supposed to have Dungeon Sickness. A light burn of panic came in her chest while she wondered how much she’d just messed up time.

“R-right, ha,” Max mumbled. “Well, y’know. It’s hard to explain.” She tried to smile up at him which lodged a shard of glass into her heart. “It’s all pretty new to me, too! Being, uh.” He was the first to know, she was pretty sure. Still, a hint of doubt held her back. “What I am.”

Luckily, Ithos proved she guessed right. He nodded with a bit of a self-satisfied smirk. “Right,” he said. Max let out a breath of relief. “An alien.”

“What?!” Max balked. She almost laughed at the joke, but his face looked entirely sincere. She kept staring at him, waiting for the facade to crack, but no. He was entirely serious. She couldn’t help shouting, “Human!”

“Hu—what?!” Ithos yelped. His eyes went wide before he leapt back, clutching his head in his paws. “H-human? But—nonono, but that—last time a human was here—oh sweet Mother Mew!” He stared at the floor in horror that only seemed to grow with time. “A-and I’m you’re partner.” He shook his head in a desperate attempt to calm down, but it only seemed to terrify him more.

“No, I can’t,” he said, shaking his head more. His paws came up in an attempt to wave the whole concept away. “Look, I’m not sure what you think I am, or how your people choose, but l-look, I can’t save the world!”

Max stared in open mouthed confusion. She couldn’t even be shocked at this point. Ithos had constantly told her they could do anything, constantly affirmed that, if anyone had to save the world, they could. He took on that burden better than even she had. He’d almost seemed excited about it, yet here he was begging her to save it with someone else.

A realization came gradually, crawling underneath her skin to skitter into her fur. Looking into his disbelieving, uncertain eyes, she started to see someone else. She started to see herself. Without Ithos, she never would have had the courage to do what they did. She needed him, then.

He needed her, now.

Ithos had stopped trying to argue his fate, now sitting with his head in his paws. Every half-breath in came with a trembling exhale, lungs rushing to get as little air in as possible. His heart almost audibly beat out of his chest.

“It’s all right,” Max whispered. Ithos didn’t seem to hear her at all, eyes stuck to the floor while his head slowly shook. One slow, soft step at a time, Max crept over to rest a paw on his shoulder, praying that the right words would come to her. Until then, she let her paw follow a familiar trail down his back with stops for extra scritches all along the way.

“I’m scared, too,” she said. A paw went to the scarf that wasn’t there for security, and she shivered. It still wasn’t there. She clutched Ithos a bit tighter to compensate. He’d been the one to pull her out of every stupid mistake she made. If Grovyle didn’t find the right Max soon, she wasn’t sure how much she could really do. When she looked up at Ithos’ eyes, her answer called from beyond the veil.

“When I think about it, I’m terrified,” she said, not sure if the words came from the heart or her memory. Wherever they originated, though, she knew they were true. “I don’t know what it’ll take, what I need to do, or what I’m even supposed to be stopping.”

A sneer snuck onto her face as she looked away. “They didn’t exactly give detailed instructions,” she grumbled. “But,” she looked into his eyes and found him looking into hers, “When I look at you….” She trailed off as a smile started to creep across her lips. “I know I can do it.” His eyes pulled her in, and she started to lean in for a hug. Once she had him in her arms, she whispered, “I know we can do it.”

Ithos carefully wrapped his arms around her as well. They’d hugged earlier, yet he seemed suddenly unsure where to put his paws. His paws twitched around her back for a bit until settling exactly where Max remembered.

As she held him in her arms, and he held her, the tremors started to slow. She squeezed him a few times, and he did the same after the third. His face wasn’t in her line of sight, so she watched his tail’s flame. The shaky ember started to grow and crackle with life. She squeezed him a bit tighter as it grew from a fire to a blaze and felt him do the same.

Tapping each other’s backs, they pulled back, chuckling in accidental unison, “Someone’s excited.”

“What?” Max asked. She turned around to see her tail bobbing eagerly from side to side. Ithos looked at his own and flushed, but Max couldn’t take her eyes away. All her life as a pikachu, she’d shoved her tail behind her, pretended it wasn’t there.

She pulled it forward to run her paws along the fur, down the bobs that formed the heart. The shift from yellow to brown was subtle, but the brown felt that little bit softer. She couldn’t wag her tail holding it in her paws, so she started wiggling side to side. An involuntary flick of her ear brought her eye up to see Ithos watching her with amusement. “S-sorry,” Max said, tucking her tail behind her.

“No, don’t!” Ithos chuckled. He kept watching her as he lost the fight against laughter until finally getting a grip on himself. After watching her for a few seconds longer, he said, “I kinda get what you mean.” Max managed a glance up, if only to see his smile. “Something about you, I don’t know.”

As he spoke, Max could almost hear two of him. Tears threatened her eyes in the dim light as, in the present and the past, she heard Ithos say, “I just look at you, and I think I could do anything.”

She couldn’t stop herself from tackling him into a hug, too emotional to even try speaking. Whether she’d slip into pika-speak or not, she didn’t have words. Holding him as tight as she could said more than she ever could. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and she finally had a night without nightmares.

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