#i am i am i am: seventeen brushes with death | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingkatsuki · 4 months ago

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Kaji in an apocalyptic setting where he takes extra risks in order to get his hands on lollipop bags

@katsukikitten sent me this ask ages ago, and I finally finished it Ilysm thank you🥺😭

Pairing: Kaji Ren x f!reader.

Warnings: Apocalypse AU, profanity. Not proofread!

Word Count: 1.3k.

“I don’t know how anyone can be so fucking stupid.”

You heard Sakura before you saw him, looking up from an old copy of Seventeen magazine you’d found inside the house you were currently staying in. Kotoha jolted awake beside you from the loud noise as the front door swung open.

“That’s it, just walk away.” He continued as he arguably became louder.

Kaji stormed in first, followed by an irate looking Hiragi and an exhausted Sugishita. Sakura was bringing up the rear as he continued shouting at his old senpai.

“What the hell happened?” You dropped the magazine onto the coffee table as you slipped out from beneath the blanket you were sharing with Kotoha, noticing Kaji avoiding all eye contact.

“You need to keep your voices down, you’ll wake the dead.” Nirei trembled at the same time, while Suo looked up from his book with a twinkle of amusement in the eye you could see.

“I think that already happened.” Kiryu offered with a wide smile on his face.

“Shut up.” Sakura bit back, dropping down into the seat you’d just vacated moments earlier as he slouched back against the soft cushion.

“Is someone going to tell me what the fuck happened?” You looked back at them with worry in your eyes as Kaji stormed past you.

“I don’t know, ask your boyfriend.” Kaji had already disappeared beneath the makeshift curtain to your bedroom, “Clearly he’s got a fucking death wish.”

“What?”

“Did you get the supplies?” Kotoha chanced asking from behind you, “Ume and Tsubaki are in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, we got ‘em—“ Hiragi started before being cut off by Sakura.

“No thanks to Kaji.” He pouted from his position on the couch, “If I wanted to die I’d take my chances with the undead.”

“What did he do?” You looked at Hiragi nervously.

“Just go and talk to him.” Hiragi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and calm himself down.

You raised a brow before turning on your heels to make your way back to the small room you shared with Kaji, hearing the tail end of the conversation from the living room.

“Ren, what happened out there?” You fixed the curtain before walking towards him.

Kaji slumped against your makeshift bed — your sleeping bags nestled on the floor — his nose scrunched in irritation as a you noticed something between his lips. His back propped against the wall.

“Nothin.” He replied bluntly, his voice muffled by the sucker that now sat positioned in his left cheek, causing it to bulge slightly as you raised a brow in confusion.

“Is that a lollipop?”

Kaji gave a shrug in response as you came closer, planting yourself on his lap with your legs on either side of him. Gentle fingers tentively reaching out to brush back the greasy hair that sat on his forehead to check the small red gash that now crossed his eyebrow.

“I need to get the first aid kit,” You murmured, “It might get infected.”

“S’fine.” He mumbled, catching you by surprise as he circled his arms around your waist to stop you from getting up.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to force it out of Hiragi?”

“We picked up everything we needed from the pharmacy,” Kaji mumbled, suddenly finding a stray piece of cotton on your worn jeans more interesting as he began to pick at the fabric, “And we were getting ready to leave.”

“Okay.” You tried to coax him, wrapping youe arms around his shoulders comfortably as you continued to listen.

“And it’s not like I meant for it to happen, it wasn’t my fault—”

You waited patiently for him to continue as he found the words, clinking the lollipop to sit on the flat of his tongue as he sucked hard before continuing.

“A shelf fell, and then another one and I got my leg trapped under it,” He scoffed, “I could’a got out of it myself.”

You frowned as he told the story, wondering whether that was why he’d come back covered in dirt with a cut on his face.

“But they tried to help me anyway, and the noise woke bunch of the undead and they blocked the exit.”

“Jesus, Ren.” You exhaled, your heart hammered against your ribcage at the thought as you imagined them fighting off a small hoard, “But Hiragi wouldn’t have been mad at you for that— accidents happen.”

“It’s because I went back for these.” He sighed, pulling out three lollipops from the front of his hoodie pocket and holding them out to you.

The only thing that kept him from exploding on all his friends on the walk home, and the main constant in his life before the world went to shit.

“Ren.” You wanted to hit him for risking his life for something so meaningless, but deep down you could understand it from his point of view.

You’d seen Kaji at some of his lowest points since the world had changed, having to find new and experimental ways to try and manage the beast inside him when you couldn’t just open Spotify and find a playlist or grab a pack of lollipops from the local konbini.

It was difficult for him to adjust, and you knew the random outbursts left him feeling shameful and guilty despite them never being his fault. You knew Kaji better than anyone, and you knew he’d never purposely endanger you or his friends. He’d do whatever it took to protect you, but it didn’t mean he wasnt still terrified of the old him coming out in this new world order.

“You should’ve left them,” You shook your head, “Your life is way more important than candy.”

“But I’m still here, ain’t I?” Kaji scoffed, “Dunno why they’re so mad, I would’ve been fine.”

“They’re mad because they worry about you,” You hum, dropping down onto his lap as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you, seeking out the warm comfort your touch provides.

“Yeah but if something went wrong they could’ve just left me there.” He rolled his eyes, “I’d rather die than survive on cough sweets another day.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” You glared at him, “They’d never do that, and if they did I’d go and find you myself.”

“You shouldn’t risk your life for me.” He shook his head.

“Well, I would.” You glared, “You better not risk your life like that again or I’ll kill you myself.”

Kaji’s lips curled into a smile at that as he positioned the lollipop stick to the corner of his mouth so he could lean forward and kiss you, feeling his chapped lips brush against yours as you tasted the artificial candy on them.

“What flavour is it anyway?” You pulled back before moving your hand to tug at the bottom of the stick inside his mouth, hearing it clink against his teeth before he parted his lips enough for you to pull it out, “Cola?”

Kaji’s lips curled into a small smile as you held the brown spit-soaked ball up to the air with a frown, wanting to roll your eyes at the insanity of it all, “You risked your life for cola chupa chups?”

“Hiragi risked his life for a pack of gas-kun 10s last month and you didn’t say anything.” He replied defensively.

“You risk your life for a cola chupa chups again and I’m definitely killing you myself.”

Kaji’s warm fingers brushed yours as he took the lollipop from your hands, lifting it up to press the hard ball of candy against your mouth as he pushed it past your pouty lips to shush you.

“You think you can silence me with candy?” You spoke around the sweet, narrowing your eyes at him as Kaji broke into a grin.

“I can think of a few other ways,” He murmured, reaching out to grasp the back of your head as he pulled you into a languid kiss, his tongue lapping at the cola sucker as you matched his movements.

#kaji x reader #ren kaji x reader #kaji ren x reader #wind breaker x reader #soft kaji #soft wind breaker

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whotfislai · 4 months ago

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Focus on you | seventeen, chan!

pairing lee chan & fem reader. (he says girl once)

genre fluff type shi

doei speaks! i love lee chan and you should too😤 ++ dividers came from h-aewo <3

it was one of those nights again. you were cuddled up under your silky sheets, missing your boyfriend.

dating an idol wasn't easy but the two of you made it work. being in LOVE with channie just felt good.

and he felt the same way about being in love with you.

you were the one thing that was constantly on his mind. from when he woke up, to during practice, and deep into the late hours of the night.

and you knew this because when you least expected it....

my channie♡ [12:50]: BABYYY I MISS U SO MUCH!! i need u right now😭

(yn) [12:51]: AWWW i miss u so much more <33

(yn) [12:51]: but its okay, you have an off-day in a couple of weeks from now or something, right?

my channie♡ [12:52]: i think so? but fuck. that's not soon enough.

(yn) [12:53]: i agree w that😔 BUT we'll spend time together soon, we both just have to be patient yk🥰

you weren't sure exactly how soon that would be, but for him, you'd wait and see. (THAT RHYMED AHAHAHAHSHS)

although, you wouldn't have to wait much longer.

around twenty-ish minutes of your conversation, you'd fallen asleep. but only ten minutes later, two notifications from your boyfriend woke you up.

my channie♡ [1:23]: babe, i know you're probably sleeping but i couldn't take it anymore

my channie♡ [1:23]: i need u SO BAD. i forgot my key pls open the door or imma have to break in

and almost immediately after reading his texts, you heard faint knocking at the front door.

"oh...no way..." you whispered to yourself as you tiredly got up, and made your way to the front door.

when you opened it, you were instantly engulfed in the tightest hug. he quite literally swept you off your feet.

but it was sweet, the way he held you so tight, almost cutting off your airflow. and even when he set you down so he could step inside the house, it was only momentarily.

"(yn), baby, i missed you so, so much." he whispered in your ear, pulling you into another breathtaking hug.

you returned the intensity of his hug as best as you could, plastering sweet kisses all over his face in the process.

and oh my god, chan loved every second of it.

"not being able to have you for that long would have KILLED ME, i swear. i just need you for tonight..." he mumbled, giving you a tiny kiss in the crook of your neck.

and then another one, and another one, and....

"lee chan!! you JUST got home, at least cuddle with me first!! gosh, you're so needy for me." you said, half-jokingly.

he laughed, releasing you from his death grip. "so what if i am? you're everything to me (yn). i need you to live y'know, i could DIE."

most people would assume he was joking but to be honest, you weren't too sure he was joking about that.

i mean, he did just sneak out of his dorm at one in the morning to be with you sooooo 🤭!

the two of you headed back into your shared bedroom, and began cuddling one another in bed, when you paused.

"are you sure this is okay?" you whispered, avoiding to look him straight in the eye. "i love that you're here, but what if you get in trouble for leaving? channie please, if you need to go back that's okay, i understand."

chan tilted his head a bit, narrowing his eyes. as much as he disliked worrying you, knowing you cared about the consequences he may face made his heart explode.

he gently pressed his hand to your chin, causing you to look upwards at him.

"(yn)...my sweet, beautiful girl. i couldn't give a shit about any consequence i might face. being with you is worth it all," he cupped your cheek, "and if you thought this was bad, you'll hate the things i plan on doing for you in the future."

before you could ask what the hell he meant by that, he leaned in and gave you a tender kiss on the lips.

so naturally, you brushed it off and decided tonight you'd focus on him.

just as he had been doing to you.

End!ㅤ

thanks for reading! i js love dino SO MUCH & i wanted to write a cute fic for him.

reblog / like it if you enjoyed <3

#��⠀lai originals #svt #seventeen #svt dino #lee chan #seventeen fic #dino seventeen #svt x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n #lee chan x reader #lee chan x you #svt dino x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #lee chan imagines #svt dino imagines #seventeen imagines #svt drabbles

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wangxianficrecs · 8 months ago

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The Winner Takes It All by YilingSani

The Winner Takes It All

by YilingSani (@yiling-sani)

M, 46k, Wangxian

Summary: "Wei Ying doesn't know why he ended up on this exact island. All he knows is that he's scared, alone and hungry. And with a child." ----- 18 years later Wei Yuan has grown into a proper young man, helping his Baba to run the hotel on the island. On the week of his wedding, Wei Yuan comes across Wei Ying's diary and decides to invite the man mentioned in it to the island, unaware of the consequences it will bring. Kay's comments: I never knew that I needed a MDZS Mamma Mia AU until I started reading this story. I have never even watched Mamma Mia (I know, shame on me, what kind of gay even am I), but I was so hooked on this story. So hooked in fact, that I read it first as it was published as a thread fic and then once again once it updated on AO3 and I could still hardly wait for the updates. The drama, the heartbreak, the angst, the found family! All of it was such a delight. The angst hit especially hard in this story and for the longest time, as a reader, you're wondering whether you even want Wei Ying and Lan Zhan to get back together again, but it all works out in the end without being a magical fix-it. Highly recommended. Excerpt: Granny Wen extends a hand to brush away a strand from the young man's face, but the moment her fingers touch his forehead, she feels the heat coming from the boy. He's running a fever. It would be inhuman to leave the boy to fate, so Granny Wen nudges him awake. Once the silver eyes open, they immediately fill with fear, and the boy draws deep into the corner, looking like a frightened deer. "It's alright," the woman speaks softly. "I won't hurt you." The silver eyes are puffy and red-rimmed - it's clear that the young man has cried himself to sleep. "It's alright," Granny Wen repeats. "You’re safe. I’m Granny Wen. What's your name?" "W-Wei Ying," the boy's voice is hoarse, his throat dry as a dessert. "Are you from the mainland?" she asks the next question, and the boy nods. She notices how the boy's hands are placed protectively on his belly and she frowns. "How old are you?" "Seventeen." Seventeen.

pov alternating, modern setting, modern no powers, mpreg, single parent wei wuxian, inspired by mamma mia!, one night stands, first time, unplanned pregnancy, traumatic childbirth, post-traumatic stress disorder, ptsd, illnesses, chronic illness, teen pregnancy, panic attacks, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, families of choice, no jiang cheng & wei wuxian reconciliation, background character death

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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ksiondzkanexkiii · 6 months ago

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MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A BAD PERSON | John Price

Next chapter (2)

The story is also on wattpad, Nebook, Tumblr Enjoy

Chapter One

Jinx. A teenager they approved of as a lost cause incapable of fixing a teenager who is and will forever be rebellious and unfit for society. She herself has earned this designation

A lost cause

Did it bother her? As long as she was at peace then no. But life on the street could never be peaceful, she had never learned that in all her sixteen years of life. Life is never peaceful and everyone lies, ever since she could remember she had been alone, but did that bother her? No. Yes.

She felt lonely, of course, but she also felt that she could make it on her own. A bit of narcissistic thinking, but that's how she thought she would survive, and apparently she succeeded, because she is still alive today.

Miracle.

Lying on the uncomfortable bed of the reformatory she looked up at the ceiling, the teddy bear who accompanied her like a faithful friend lay on her chest exceptionally she would pull him out to hug him she always did when she doubted. It gave her peace of mind as if the teddy bear was the only person dead because he was an object, but she had the feeling that he understood her. As the only

The day was to begin as always wake up after Friday morning toilet breakfast at six o'clock school activities from eight to fifteen free time until seventeen afternoon study time until nineteen showers and sleep. The constant routine that blended into her veins was tedious, of course she tried to find entertainment wherever she fell, but it wasn't enough.

The boredom that entered her nostrils like oxygen that sucks in caused her to be bored. Who would have expected that? She didn't know what to do. She knew to strive for routine, she had already learned many times that it was better not to piss off the guards, it always ends uninterestingly from an intense beating with a baton to leaving her for days in solitary confinement with poor food and drink such that she would not die of thirst.

She longed for freedom, every day she would have prayed to escape this hell, which was called a juvenile correctional facility, but a new name had formed in her mind. Cops' mental institution.

How much she would give to be able to run free again, to feel the same adrenaline rush when she stole something to be able to run away from a familiar shopkeeper again. She longed for that come what may, those were her darkest times, every day she wondered if she would survive.

Would god be so merciful as to give her extra moments of life, before placing new stumbling blocks at her feet, she would give her whole body along with her soul for... for a good home

Every day described was routine, but today... today was something different, she woke up later than usual as if the guards had skipped her. As if they wanted to starve her to death, when she jumped off the top of the bunk bed she noticed Isolde her cellmate. She disappeared not there.

Didn't she wake me up?

Jinx thought, more and more questions were being asked in her head, but there were no answers. The cell was closed, the small wooden table was further against the wall and continued as small, but also large, because two people could write in notebooks on it, the small lamp continued to stand on the desk, the lower part of Isolde's bed was bedded. As they always do when they get up, so they did not forcibly lead her out by herself she left

Why am I alone? As she approached the cold bars of the cell she leaned her hands against them trying to look out through the closed bars she saw nothing. It was dark in the corridor

Is it still night? Am I asleep?

No answers to these questions

Isolde was not there. She was alone, confused unusually. She wouldn't remember Izo was supposed to go to solitary confinement for misbehavior, Izo was more of the docile inmates. Jinx wondered how she ended up here, but the younger girl always brushed off the question by saying she didn't want to talk about it. Jinx did not press

She thought she shouldn't

Isolde didn't press Jinx to talk about her life either, Jinx thought her life was twisted like... How? Well, that's how she always came up with all sorts of twisted things, but now nothing was popping into her head. She let out a shuddering breath and goosebumps appeared on her skin, it was cold in the cells as if she was in a cooler, but the heat to the icy room was gently getting in. And she had nothing to warm herself with anyway, her navy blue prison uniform hung loosely on her body and a white undershirt hugged her chest. Jinx wasn't a fan of buttoning up her uniform shirt, so she walked around with the undershirt on and the navy blue uniform shirt served as outerwear.

The navy blue pants hung on her like a sack of potatoes were certainly too big, but they were fine at the waist, only every now and then she had to pull them up to keep them from falling off her waist and showing the underwear underneath. The washed and slowly deteriorating sneakers that were the only ones that came with her to the prison and had not been taken away were already slightly chafing the teenager's skin, she was definitely slowly growing out of them, but there was no point in asking for new ones yet.

Besides, she loved the shoes too much to leave them behind, they had gone through so much time with her that she didn't want to leave them behind even if it was to end up with bruised feet.

Her legs carried her to the wall, where she impetuously hit the cold brick wall to slowly slide towards the ground to sit on it. As cold as the wall was the cells were never heated only for the winter the guards gave them thicker quilts that was it, if they froze to death the guards did not grieve. To them it was normal, as if every kid in this reformatory was a lost cause as if there was no saving them.

Jinx thought otherwise

Of course that those kids were doing wrong she also committed crimes, but behind every bad act there was a reason. There could have been a myriad of reasons, but the criminals, at least the juvenile ones, were never listened to why they did it, they just had these two phrases written into their files, which hurt everyone.

A lost cause

They could have helped give them another chance. To listen to them. But no.

The authorities thought they knew better what was worth saving and what was written off, everything according to them was listed as unsalvageable, unchangeable. But every kid who came here was panicked. They were afraid. She was also afraid when she came here could she blame the kids there for being afraid? No, but the guards were of a different opinion every day new juvenile prisoners who were not understood and were sent here to change to serve time for their actions were doomed to eternal derision and insults from the prison guards.

Was there anything they could do? No. They couldn't even stand up to them, say enough, that they should stop. There was nothing they could do, they were doomed to it. The reformatory was supposed to teach humility and calmness listening to orders and learning to enter society, but the reformatory only taught how people in authority control us as they lie to us right to our faces mocking us behind closed doors.

Jinx was no longer the youngest, but she was still not an adult, she was a teenager who lived on the streets because that was the way life had chosen her. As if a god had said it was her destiny to suffer forever, but feeling pain, she believed she shouldn't exist after all, she was the one who escaped from her parents' basement to try to survive on her own. At the age of ten she learned quick turns in sprinting, as well as refining her sprinting and mind, when she was eleven she learned to do parkour well jumping from one fire cage to another or jumping over a fence didn't always end nicely at least at first. When she was learning skinned knees and elbows and hands were the norm, but eventually she learned, she also perfected the art of stealing to somehow survive.

The hardest time was in winter, thick clothes blocked some of her movements as well as slowed her sprinting, she couldn't wear anything lighter because she would freeze. Winter was always the hardest like the period when people wish each other happy holidays and the new year she was undergoing the most important test then. Whether it was all she learned on the street or learned from it, she survived winters with difficulty, but then it was a signature that she learned to live in winter. She didn't care about dirt she was constantly dirty, being homeless involved

With constant struggle

With constant filth

And that rats are your friends, unless they have rabies, then not.

And that everyone lies and there is no help on the streets, no friends of the homeless. The rivalry among the homeless was of two camps, either you are their family not even biological family, but family or you are their enemy for life, Jinx chose the term enemy of all. She didn't trust them, she preferred to gather supplies herself and live alone rather than give away what she managed to gather and give to others as generosity, she was the one who gathered it all then why should she give it away claiming that these elderly homeless people need it? They're going to die sooner or later anyway, they're going to die faster than her so why waste food on them?

- Stop feeling sorry for yourself. - the British voice of a familiar guard spoke up. Sullyvan. This nasty guard stole her affection, she liked him. In a friendly form of meaning of course, she loved to tease him and he loved to remind her how much she had fucked up in her life - after you grieve elsewhere," sighed Sullyvan pulling out his keys with a clank.

Raising an eyebrow Jinx watched his movements as he opened the cells, the key went into the lock and was turned the clank of metal against metal echoed through the empty cells and the prison hall. The teenager didn't know what he was talking about. As if a familiar guard caught her unspoken question he smiled - You're out. That's what you do. - He confessed to her, the teenager's lips parted

Going out? To freedom?

She won't have to look at those nasty gray shades of the walls in the cell as well as the walls of the prison, she'll be able to escape this routine that boiled in her veins which she vomited and shit so much she couldn't count. She won't have to eat food in this nasty place, come on it can hardly be called food mostly watered down noodles with some unknown sauce she always wrinkled her face at the sight of it while holding back her vomiting motions.

But she had to eat it to not die, come on she would have gladly jumped into the arms of the dark reaper. But not like this, death by starvation was for those who gave up those who no longer had the will and strength to keep fighting - Oh fuck on, don't think so much," Robert complained, his patience was never great. For that she liked him he often lost patience, but he was a good man a good nicotine dealer - Jeez, you can't just tell me I'm leaving and not give away the details - I muttered raising myself gracefully on my hands to get up from the ground.

- You'll find out all the details soon enough - confessed the guard began to lead me down that familiar dingy corridor, the echo of our footsteps spread along the entire length of the corridor and bounced off the walls - What's there to explain much? I'm going to freedom - the surprise written on the face of the teenager exceptionally amused the guard, who patted her on the shoulder

- You'll be surprised honey, you'll be surprised," he confessed with a slight giggle and his British accent sounded on his lips so that she had to strain her hearing and wits to understand him. If sight kills Sullyvan would be dead more than once he could have already dug himself thousands of graves thousands of times Jinx sent him the same or that threw daggers when she didn't like something - You watch out Sullyvan yet you will find that your dick will get smaller - muttered quietly the teenager entering the room where she had been questioned many times.

She didn't like this room, not because this is where they interrogate all juvenile delinquents, but for the fact that they also used this room for torture as she called it. When someone misbehaved they would take them into this room lock them up and beat them as if they wanted to kill them, but at the edge of life and death they would restrain themselves as if they guessed that what they were doing was wrong, but... they kept doing it self-reflection was lacking and the trauma in the prisoners grew with every fucking day.

Jinx wished the walkers of these youngest had it better, but she could only dream. All she could think about was what was about to happen to her next interrogation? Not then the main one of the guards would come for her. Torture? After all, she hadn't done anything wrong, at least not recently. They could have found out about the cigarette dealer, but then Robert would have been screwed too and not just her, she was already alone in the room a metal table stood in the middle of the room and two black chairs beside it, she couldn't forget how uncomfortable those chairs were she spent hours sitting on one of them as she got up from the table the other day she could sit down that her legs didn't exist. The same for her butt.

She didn't even notice the moment the woman walked in she was quite an older woman to her eye, but she didn't have that many gray hairs, she could have been in her forties, but work had caused her a mass of wrinkles and the little gray hairs that are in her bun and in her bangs - Oho fuck Laswell - muttered Jinx running her hand over her already tired face, a day full of thoughts was slowly killing her

She knew Kate, she was the one who caught her. If only she hadn't trusted her she wouldn't be here, but that trust hadn't disappeared by some miracle she respected this womanodź herself couldn't explain why. Maybe it was the idea she came up with when they tried to catch her, the local police couldn't handle it so they called for better support not the military, but the CIA agency was no longer a go-between as Jinx found out the day she was caught. She was extremely snarky and annoyed, but Laswell saw something in her, but never told her what - Should I be happy to see you? - The rhetoric in Jinx's question was ignored by Kate

- Yes you should. I have an offer," the older woman confessed as she sat down in an uncomfortable chair at the table, feeling sorry for her she doesn't know what she's done sitting down in that chair, "You'll get out of juvie," the woman began as she saw Jinx's eyes glowing her blue irises showed hope which Laswell beat like an egg to scrambled eggs, "But you'll be in the care of the military so you can re-enter the civilian world when the government decides you won't harm anyone," Laswell explained

The hope in the teenager's eyes was extinguished, someone is supposed to watch over her like a child? She is not a child to hell she is sixteen years old. And she is not dangerous! She has changed, no. She hasn't changed.

But the offer sounded so beautiful she wouldn't have to see all those guards' faces anymore, she wouldn't be afraid of whether she did everything right and whether she would end up in this Hall but for the torture. Everything sounded so beautiful, she couldn't believe it

Everyone lies, after all

But. If she turned it down she would be a fool, she didn't know what to do herself. But if an unsuitable and incompetent caretaker came along she could easily escape, but then she would lose a sure roof over her head and food, if she got it at all. New caretakers might not trust her as much and claim that the food they give her is plenty and there would probably be enough to keep her from starving to death, but she would certainly lose weight.

She didn't know what to do

A mass of questions few answers

To trust or not to trust?

What should she do?

She didn't know. She was at the mercy of fate, which was anyway like a flimsy thread that had survived more than she had in her entire life - And what will I get out of it? - asked the skeptical teenager Laswell turned her head slightly to the side without taking her eyes off the younger girl - If you behave well and show the committee that you have changed you will regain your full freedom - stated Kate leaning back crossing her arms on her chest. The teen squinted her eyes wanted to find any sign that Laswell was lying, but couldn't.

Either the agent is so adept at hiding her lies or it's Jinx who can't read them. The offer sounded so beautiful in the teenager's mind - Fine. I'll go," Jinx stated, "But what if I don't change? - she asked suddenly, when Laswell started to get up, the older woman interrupted her activity to look at Jinx - Then you will come back here. And most likely you'll get out when you grow up, but it won't be that easy you'll then be monitored constantly every day until you make one mistake and end up in an actual real prison and not a reformatory," she explained without lying to Laswell

It sounded a little like a threat, Jinx began to regret asking - Well no matter. Let's go," she said, wanting to lose this topic already not to think about it intensely, she was tired. The day had just begun and already sucked all the essence of energy on her.

- Okay, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. For that, pack to what you want to take, if you have anything," Laswell stated, waving her hand towards the Venetian mirror for the guard to escort me to my cell.

A new opportunity?

New fun. But if they fucked it up it will come back here and it won't be colorful, but was Laswell lying sometimes? She didn't know, but new paths in life interested her she wanted to check them out.

She had been on this show before she had been with police officers most often commentators, but they gave up at her frequent pranks she had been with ex-military men who had retired, but she was too quick and resourceful for them.

Jinx is now curious to see what Laswell has come up with for her, already new plans are forming in her head on how to fuck up the life of the one who wants to take on her care. This is going to be interesting

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 6 months ago

Text

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Hey, y'all! This update is extremely late & I'm so sorry for the wait (that rhymed lol don't look at me). I've been so busy preparing for my new job in August & getting ready to start school that updating this story slipped my mind lol. BUT I am still writing it! I really wanna finish this story. So to make up for the slow updates, I decided to drop three new chapters instead of two. Please enjoy! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

SEVEN: HIT ‘EM UP!

You arrive in the tiny, dusty, damn-near abandoned town of Bull’s Creek by the next morning.

You three didn’t stop for a night of rest, only taking breaks to feed the horses and let them rest their hooves before continuing on your journey. Most of what you do is on Reneigh’s back: brushing your teeth; eating your snacks; power naps. You now feel sweaty and tired, but not exhausted, only happy to finally be at your destination.

Bull’s Creek is as depressing as it is quiet. Nothing moves but a tumbleweed that noisily rolls across the dusty road among the disturbingly quiet shops and boutiques that you’re sure once were brimming with life and vibrancy, but are now dingy and sad-looking. “Beauty, ain’t it?” Gojo sniggers as he and his horse totter beside you.

“Where is everybody?” you question, feeling eerily uncomfortable with the silence. You half expect to be ambushed because of it. “Most of ‘em moved because of Benji’s crew members takin’ over,” Geto explains. “Sad. Most of the civilians had been here for years, but couldn’t take the terror anymore.”

“Buuut,” Gojo interrupts with a grin, “lucky for the ones who stayed, we’re here! And we’ll make sure we send the baddies on their way.” You continue to look around for someone, anyone, in this ghost town. “So how are we supposed to find these guys?” you ask. “Just ask around?”

“Exactly that, little miss,” Geto chuckles, suddenly coming to a stop in front of you. “And we’ve found just the spot.” You and Gojo stop your horses in front of a small saloon where you can just hear the sound of music and chatter. Gojo hops off of his horse first and goes to help you down, but you ignore him, choosing to get down yourself.

You walk by, ignoring Gojo’s pout, and look up at the bar’s sign coated in dust: “Bull’s Bar,” you read, hearing Gojo giggle. “That’s so original,” he comments as he pats the holster carrying Hollow Purple.

He goes in without even waiting for you or Geto, but his partner doesn’t seem to mind. “The woman who wrote us asked us to meet her here in her letter,” he explains as he walks you inside. “So she should be…”

His words die when he opens the wooden doors and lets them swing shut. The sound of them creaking is the only sound among the silence in the bar. The bar is small with tables covered in cowskin, bullheads mounted behind the bar, and every eye in the place on you, Geto, and Gojo, including the piano player in the corner.

It’s beyond uncomfortable and you feel your face prickle with nervous sweat beneath your bandana. But Gojo and Geto are immune to discomfort as they confidently walk towards the bar. “Rough crowd,” Geto mutters under his breath. You nod in agreement, keeping a close hand on your hip.

The bartender watches you come to the bar and sit, slowly wiping off a glass. He is tall and burly with unruly, spiked brown hair and a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. “So what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here, mister?” Gojo kindly asks.

The bartender doesn’t say anything at first; just continues to stare you all down. The music hasn’t resumed yet and that makes this moment even more tense. “Kusakabe,” he says, his voice smooth and rough. “What will y’all have?”

Gojo’s smile widens, pleased. “Jack n’ Coke for me and my partner; Sherly Temple for the lady.” You shoot him a look that could kill. “All Jack n’ Cokes, please,” Geto sighs, passing Kusakabe a couple of coins. He takes them and nods, still giving you a suspicious look that has your skin crawling.

“U-Uh…excuse me?” a small, feminine voice asks behind you. You turn, finding a young, petite girl with long, sky-blue hair cut into a bang standing there, looking nervous. “You’re Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, right?” The duo turns to face her now, making her face go beat red. “That, we are, ma’am,” Geto says, tipping his hat at her. “And you’re Miwa, I’m presumin’?”

The girl damn near pops a blood vessel. “T-That’s correct, yes!” she stuttering replies. Another young girl with two blonde ponytails comes up beside her. “You ain’t ask ‘em to sign your book, Miwa?” she snorts. “That’s all you’ve been talkin’ about since we showed up here.” Miwa gapes at the girl, mortified. “Momo!” she shrieks. “That was private!”

“Miwa!” a male voice calls suddenly from across the room. A young man comes hurrying up to the two girls, tall and handsome with a spiked, black ponytail and a scar on his right cheek. “Are you alright? Who are they?” He ticks his eyes between you three suspiciously. “Mechamaru, it’s okay,” Miwa soothes him, gently stroking his arm. “They’re here to help us.”

“Friends of yours?” Gojo chuckles, not at all phased by this. Mecamaru glares at him. “I’m her boyfriend, actually,” he sharply corrects the gunslinger. Miwa nods at Momo who barely even smiles. “This is Momo. She’s a Bull’s Creek native, just like me. She told me not to write you guys!”

Momo narrows her eyes at her friend. “Way to throw me under the bus,” she huffs. “It was only because I didn’t want more trouble comin’ into this town!” Geto nods understandably. “We ain’t here for trouble, little miss…well, not the kind that’ll get y’all killed. We just want the four we came here for.”

“And who would that be?” Kusakabe asks suspiciously. “Who the fuck are y’all to come into my place of business askin’ around like y’all own the damn place?” You go to put your hand on your glock, but Gojo stops you, shaking his head at you.

“We don’t mean no harm,” Geto gently says, “but we’ve got business in this town and with her.” He nods at Miwa. “She wrote a letter to us askin’ for help to save you from the four takin’ over this town.”

The three younglings share a wary look with each other. “Don’t say their names,” Mechamaru warns. “They’ve got a tight hold on this town already. Last I heard about them is that they’re livin’ up in the mountains beyond the creek among the riches they snatched from the town.”

“We’ll take you to them!” Momo excitedly announces. But Mechamaru shakes his head. “No,” he firmly says. “You two are stayin’ right here. I’ll take them.” While Momo tuts in disappointment, Miwa looks damn starstruck by her boo.

Gojo gulps down his drink, finishing it off with a burp. “Fine with us, just as long as we get to where we need to. But before that…” He takes an ink pen from his pocket, smiling at Miwa. “Who wanted an autograph?”

But before Miwa, who has now turned red, can hand over her book, Kusakabe stops her. “Hang on.” He leans over the bar toward the three of you, his eyes deadly and intimidating. “You get them and then you get the fuck out of my town. We don’t need no more trouble here.”

With a silent nod, you three agree and Mechamaru guides you into the mountains.

*********

The creek is quiet when you make it up the hill.

Too quiet. Though the soft sloshing of the water should be comforting, it’s damn disarming to you as you walk with the duo and Mechamaru along the creek yards away from Bull’s Creek (funny enough). The air is sweet, the sky is blue, and you know danger lurks.

You finally come to a shabby-looking house up on a grassy hill yards down from you four. The roof is missing some tiles, one wall is caging in, and it looks abandoned. “They should be in there,” Mechamaru says, pointing at the house. “They stay there because there are trails in the woods to escape through if the law ever happened to sniff ‘em out. But they haven’t for months because so many people are too scared to speak up for fear of being killed.”

The young man stares you all down as you silently examine the home. “You gonna get them out of here?” he asks, hope in his eyes. The duo doesn’t answer, so you do, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mechamaru,” you gently say. “We’ll take it from here.” ‘Yes, we’ll get them out of here for you.’

Mechamaru seems to be happy with your words. Meanwhile, Geto is stringing up the horses to a nearby post while Gojo spits his cigarette out of his mouth and crushes it under his heel. This is just ordinary work for them. “Go on back to your girl,” the white-haired outlaw says with a wink. “She’s a cutie.”

Mechamaru narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he backpedals and hurries back the way he came towards town. Once gone, you follow the duo up the hill to the small house, the grassblades tickling your ankles as you move.

Finally, you come to the wooden front door padlocked shut. “So how are we doin’ this?” you ask. “Do we just bust in there and–”

You’re rudely cut off by Gojo’s foot smashing into the padlock, forcing it open. The door opens with a long creaking sound like in a horror film.

The way this house looks feels like a horror film too: stained, old furniture in the living area; dishes in the kitchen sink and rotten food on the counter down the long hallway leading to the back door; ripped curtains covering the stained windows, making the entire downstairs dark and dreary. The smell in the air is rotten and rancid like something died in here. You cover your mouth despite the bandana covering your lower face.

As you creep inside with the duo, your hand on your holster, your eyes shift from left to right, top to bottom. You look for a shadow; some slight movement from around a corner or behind something. The floorboards ominously creek under your boots, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “There’s no one here,” you whisper.

While Gojo stays behind, Geto walks ahead of you towards the circle of furniture, his gun hanging from his hand. He places a hand on one of the leather armchairs and shakes his head. “No,” he protests. “There is. Feel the chair.” You carefully walk over and place a hand on the seat, your hear thumping wildly. “It’s warm,” you gasp. “Someone is–”

“Y/N, look out!” Geto shouts from behind you, but it’s too late. Your words are cut off when you suddenly feel something snatching you by the ankle, causing you to fall onto your back. The noose tightens and begins to pull you throughout the house on your back despite your screams. You try to grab the knife in your pocket, but you can’t. You’re moving too fast.

Finally, you stop and face two men with very bad intentions in their eyes. One of them is nothing short of a pretty boy: beautiful bone structure in his face with high cheekbones, dimples, blue eyes, and a Colgate smile. If it isn’t for the gun in your face, you’d think he was a model. This is ‘Angelface’.

“Well, well, look what we’ve got here, Zankoku: the prettiest little trespassor we’ve gotten.” He smirks at his partner. “What do you reckon we should do with her?”

His partner, Zankoku, looks like he’s all types of crazy: unruly curls that fall in his face; a bumpy nose like he was punched too many times in his lifetime; a scar running from his left ear down to the corner of his mouth; wide, wild eyes that frighten you more than the gun pressing against your noggin.

“I’ve got one idea that would make her sorry,” he growls, his voice like jagged glass to you. “Do you know what we do to trespassin’ bitches like you?” Angelface shakes his head at Zankoku. “Now, now, that’s no way to talk to a lady!” he mockingly tuts.

“Y/N!” Geto shouts from beyond. You manage to twist around to look behind you and find the duo running to save you. However, they are stopped by a woman who pops up from under the staircase, pointing a gun at Geto’s head and a man jumping out from behind a wall to pull Gojo back and put a knife at his throat.

The only woman in this crew, Makima, is tall and slender with long red hair and cold eyes. “Don’t move,” she warns. “You move and either I put this bullet in you or Arata puts that knife in your partner’s throat.” Arata is mute as you’ve been told, his tongue cut out long ago. But what he lacks in words he makes up for with his knives that are as long as his hair that cascades down to his hips.

“Or we fuck up this cutie’s face,” Angelface growls, pushing the gun into your cheek. “Never thought I’d meet the famous Fatale Femme in the flesh.” He uses the barrel to pull your bandana down, revealing your nose and mouth to him. “And see her gorgeous face,” he cackles. “You’re almost prettier than me.” You could spit at him.

“You motherfuckers got a lot of nerve comin’ here,” Zankoku snarls. “First you leave like y’all are better than us and then you start workin’ for the fuck ass law?”

Gojo smiles despite nearly grazing the knife at his neck. “Good to see you again too, Zankoku,” he titters. “I guess this is our welcome wagon?” Makima rolls her eyes, annoyed. “God, you always talked too much,” she huffs. “I should put some lead in that throat right now just to shut you up.”

She cocks her gun, moving it away to point at Gojo while she slips another out of her holster and points it at Geto. The entire room has turned into a warzone. One wrong step and you’re dead. “Listen,” Geto says, raising his voice. “We don’t want no trouble.”

“Oh, shut up!” Makima spits. “Why else would y’all be here? You’re obviously here to wrangle us up like cattle and bring us into the sheriff.”

“Y’all tryna get in a good place with the law?” Angelface scoffs, grinning at the gunslingers. “Tryin’ to become good guys ‘cause prison scared y’all? So sad to see what happened with that train.” You can almost feel the rage radiating off of Geto and Gojo in waves. “We don’t want to put y’all in prison,” Geto says, his voice roiling with simmering anger. “We just want information on Benji. We need to find him.”

The bandit crew share a brief look. “Why would we tell you?” Angelface scoffs, eyes narrowed. “We don’t know where he is anyway. We were in Cherrywood before he fucked outta town months ago. We haven’t seen him since.” As soon as he says it, his partners look at him like he just sealed their fate. And he did.

“You dumbass!” Makima hisses. The gears in your head are turning and you share a look with Geto and Gojo. “Benji was in Cherrywood?” you ask, finally speaking. “When? Why?”

But the cold barrels of the guns pressing into your head and chin stop you. “Enough,” Makima growls. “We don’t have to tell you fuck shit. Now hold still so we don’t fuck up our home.”

She points her guns at Geto while Arata pushes the knife further into Gojo’s throat. You stare at the guns in your face, shaking. “Sorry we couldn’t have any fun, darlin,” Angelface sighs. “You’ll make the most beautiful corpse though.” Staring into the barrels is like staring into death and suddenly, you see a flash of your mother’s face.

You don’t think. You just do. Quickly, you wedge your hand under your ass and pull a knife out. In a flash, you stick the knife into Angelface’s side, making him scream in pain. Immediately, Makima shoots but Geto ducks and swings his leg to trip her. Gojo elbows Arata in the face and rolls away just as Arata cups his nose to stop the blood flow. Makima, who fell, quickly rises and pulls the trigger on both guns.

Bullets immediately start flying from Zankoku and Makima aimed for Geto and Gojo who you’re sure are hiding. You have no time to see where though, too focused on your attacker. Angelface staggers back and drops the gun, holding his wounded side. “You fuckin’ bitch!” he bellows. “You’ll pay for that! Kill her, Zankoku!”

Zankoku is momentarily distracted, too busy popping shells. You take that loophole to cut yourself free with the bloody knife and kick him in the back. He staggers, but not enough. He turns around, baring his dirty teeth at you. “You,” he growls and raises his gun. He suddenly falls onto his knees, revealing Gojo standing behind him with a gun that whacked him in the back of the head.

A bullet zooms over his head and Gojo quickly covers you. “Over here!” he yells as he drags you into the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Geto quickly crawls in behind you and rips the table up to turn it over to serve as a shield from the bullets. Gojo pulls you behind the overturned table. You sit there, the three of you, as bullets whiz past you, breaking windows and putting holes in the walls. “She’s still shooting!” you announce among the flying bullets. “This bitch is crazy!”

Geto busies himself firing back at Makima from behind the table while Gojo points at the back door. “You go out there,” he tells you. “We’ll take care of her in here.”

He slides his gun out of his holster and cocks it. “Just wait for us with the horses,” he whispers. “We’ll find you.” So you go, hurrying over to the backdoor as fast as you can on your hands and knees.

You turn for a second to see Arata stabbing through the table right above Gojo’s head. You itch to help him and Geto both, but you know they’d tell you to get out and save yourself. So you keep going. When you finally make it, you shove the door open with your shoulder and roll out into the open, landing on your back in some grass. Quickly, you look up, squinting in the sun.

The backyard is nothing but an empty pig pen and a stretch of forest. Down below the slope of the hill the house is on is the creek and beyond that, your horses. On wobbly legs, you get up and try to run, but two arms wrapping around you stop you. One tightens around your midsection while the other wraps around your neck, nearly choking you.

“Hel–!” Your scream is cut off by a choke as you struggle to breathe with the arms squeezing you tight than a vice.

“Gotcha,” Zankoku chuckles. “Stupid bitch, thinkin’ you could run from me…but I’m not goin’ to prison. So I’ll let nature take ya.” He begins to walk with you as you struggle helplessly in his arms, not even able to reach your weapons.

When you realize where he’s taking you, it’s too late: you’re suddenly being dangled over the side of the rushing water of the creek. Without a warning, Zankoku drops you in.

Your body plunges into the icy depths of the water, shocking you to the core. You immediately swim to the surface and gulp down the air. The waves are rough and wild, splashing you repeatedly in the face as you struggle to reach for a rock, a tree branch, anything to stop you from going downstream.

Zankoku stands at the bank and pats his knee once. A horse comes running from out of the forest, stopping at his feet and allowing him to climb on. “Have fun with the fishes, bitch!” he cackles before galloping off on his horse upstream.

“Wait!” you scream, so loud that your throat goes raw. You watch helplessly as Zankoku disappears, growing smaller the farther the water takes you. You try to pedal to stay afloat, but the current is too rough and the water too deep. You can’t feel the bottom. “Gojo!” you wail out. “Geto, help!”

All that answers you is the water flooding your ears and mouth, salty and overbearing. All of your senses are taken over by it as the current swallows you up. Tears of desperation begin to slip down your cheeks, sobs leaving your mouth. You once again feel alone. Abandoned. Just like all those years ago. And you’re tired. So, so tired.

Finally giving in to the creek and the ache in your muscles, you let the current take you and find yourself going beneath the ice-cold, salty depths of water. But you don’t sink. Just as quickly as you went under, you’re suddenly pulled back up by some invisible force yanking on your arm. You look up into the sun’s rays, wondering if it’s God.

But when you turn to look, you realize that it’s Geto. He is hanging off the side of the bank, boots and pants muddy, grunting as he struggles to pull you out. He finally slips in and yanks you to his body, both of you floating in the water together. “Keep your eyes open, Y/N!” he yells among the rush. “Geto,” you try to say, but your voice is so weak that it gets carried away by the water.

Geto swims to the side of the creek with one arm and quickly grabs an upturned tree root to pull you both up and out of the water. “I’ve gotcha,” he huffs, dragging you into the mud once he’s on the surface. He then pulls you into the grass and finally releases you.

When he does, the shakes start. And the shivers. Your body convulses as if it’s back in the water and not in the warm sun on dry land. You can’t stop. It’s as if your body has kicked itself into fight or flight. Your fingers tremble and your heart pounds, causing your breath to become labored. “Y/N?” Geto questions. You don’t see him. All you see is the blue sky above you.

“C-C-C…” You don’t know what you’re trying to say. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Geto’s handsome face appears above you and his expression softens when he realizes what’s happening. “Y/N, you’re havin’ a panic attack,” he says. He slowly picks you up and places his hands on your forearms.

“Breathe,” he demands, his voice and eyes firm. “I need you to breathe, Y/N, okay?” You shake your head, still trembling like a leaf. “I-I can’t,” you gasp. “C-Can’t…” It’s a struggle to form a coherent sentence. Your brain can’t keep up, sending warning signals to your body when there isn’t even any danger anymore.

“Look at me, darlin’,” Geto coos. His big, calloused hands hold your cheeks, willing you to look at him. “Watch me, okay?”

You do, hypnotized by his warm, soulful eyes. “Do what I do, slowly,” he instructs. “In.” His chest expands.

“And out.” His chest falls. He does it again and you mirror to the best of your ability. It’s shaky and choppy at first, but soon, your breathing is less labored.

Then your heartbeat slows and your body relaxes in his touch. All the while, he is gentle and patient. “That’s it,” he says, nodding. “It’s alright now. I’ve got you now.” And you believe it. You believe that you are safe. How the fuck did he do that?

A whistle pierces the air from down below the hill. You look to see Gojo jogging uphill with the horses. His smile fades when he sees you and Geto, soaking wet and coated in mud. “What happened?” he demands. Quickly, you stand without Geto’s help and wipe at your snotty nose. “It’s not important,” you sniffle. “Did you get her?”

Though Gojo still looks concerned, he doesn’t push it. “We got them,” he corrects you. “Angelface is knocked out cold ‘cause of blood loss thanks to your knife, but the other three are conscience so we should be able to talk ‘em.” You sigh, relived.

You hop on your horses and ride back up to the house where, sure enough, the four bandits are bound tight in a rope tied to the pig pen, back to back. Angelface is slumped over, his side stained in blood. Meanwhile, his partners look downright scared, no longer having their weapons to help them.

You and the duo stomp over to them, relishing the way they shiver at the sight of you. “Please don’t kill us,” Makima whimpers. Geto kneels before her, his expression like steel. “Then tell us what we want to know: Benji the Bandit. Where is he?”

Gojo kneels beside his partner and pulls down his blindfold to reveal his piercing, blue eyes. It’s enough to make the bandits cowar. No weapons or force needed. It makes you wonder just what the duo did to them while you were in that creek. “The last time we saw him was in Cherrywood,” Zankoku admits. “He was conspirin’ with the outlaw Valentine to rob a train.”

“Valentine?” you gasp. “He works for Benji?” You look at Geto and Gojo as realization hits you. Could it be that Benji was behind that train masscre? Could it be that he framed his two former employees? “After the train massacre, Benji cut us some money and said he was headin’ to Sage County to hide out,” Makima adds. “That’s all we know, we swear!”

Gojo smiles, happy with this turnout. “Thank you for your participation,” he sweetly says as he stands up. He reties his blindfold before letting out a whistle that echos across the land.

You hear the sound of horse hooves and thudding footsteps, each sound mingling into one loud heartbeat. You turn, findinding law enforcement and other townsmen following close behind running out of the brush of trees and nature towards you. Among them is Kusakabe sporting a golden star on his shirt as the sheriff of Bull’s Creek (who also so happens to be a bartender).

“They’re all yours, fellas!” Gojo yells, moving away so Kusakabe and his posse can swarm the bandits like flies. Other townspeople follow shortly after and with them, they bring rewards for you and the gunslinging duo: money; food and spices for cooking; whiskey and ale; and more importantly, thanks.

Despite your reputation and appearance, the people stare you in your face and pour their hearts out to you. They shower you with gratitude, give you warm smiles, and shake your hand. It is overwhelming, but at the same time, it makes you feel good. It gives you a better feeling than how you feel after smoking a gunslinger and taking off down the road: cold and vengeful. Now, to see the very people you’ve helped with your own eyes, it makes you rethink your career path.

Nearly an hour later after collecting your rewards and goods to place in a sack for the road, Gojo comes up to you with a big, fluffy towel while Geto chats with some of the victims. “Gotcha somethin’,” he says, wrapping you up in the fluffy thing.

You don’t look into his eyes, still feeling weird from earlier. Once you’re wrapped up tight, he gives you space and chomps down on a sugar cookie given to him by a sweet old lady earlier as her thanks. “So where to now?” you ask, glancing at him. He just smirks at you.

Sage County it is, then.

**********

The night is still and so is the steely, cold, unforgiving prison cell Valentine sleeps in that night.

He’s been in the Black Water County prison for days now, eating their terrible food and facing terrible mistreatment at the hands of the guards. He is housed in a private cell, isolated from other prisoners. Being a wanted criminal outlaw means that you have many enemies, so the sheriff thought it was best to keep Valentine isolated to avoid Valenine being attacked….not because he cares, but because he wants Valentine alive for his trial.

Valentine hasn’t tried to escape, waiting for the right time to do so. He has decided to lay low for now and play nice, keeping to himself and doing what the guards tell him to do. Meanwhile, in his head, he fantasizes about the moment he can put some bullets in those damn gunslingers and wrap his hands around your lying, backstabbing throat.

Right now, as he lies asleep on his pad, he can almost see your face turning purple as he wrings your neck. He can almost feel the way your hands claw pathetically at his, your body slowly going limp like a rag doll as he–

Clang.

Valentine immediately opens his eyes and sits up in his cell, looking towards the strange sound of metal banging against something solid. He squints into the dark hallway outside of his barred cell door. “H-Hello?” he stutteringly whispers in the darkness. “Is someone there?”

There isn’t an answer for a while, making him feel as if he imagined it. But then he hears footsteps and the young guard usually posted at his cell appears, staggering slightly as he does so. In his hand, he carries a tray of sloppy Joe and beer, possibly for himself, but Valentine makes a joke anyway.

“What’s that?” he scoffs. “You finally bringin’ me some decent dinner, boy? Do you even know what time of night it is?!” The young guard doesn’t answer. Instead, he teeters forward and falls onto his face like a tree that was just axed, falling at Valentine’s feet.

“Shit!” Valentine gasps, jumping and backing up against the cold cell wall. The food and beer spill along the floor, just like the blood pooling from the back wound the guard is sporting. That’s when he sees it: the knife in the guard’s back.

More footsteps follow and Valentine shakily looks up at the shadow figure entering the hallway, dressed in black clothes with a bandana covering his mouth. As he gets closer, Valentine cowares against the wall, shivering. “W-What did you–”

“Shh!” the stranger shushes him. He bends down near the guard’s body and takes off his black glove. There, Valentine recognizes the black rose tattoo on his knuckles. The flower of death. Benji the Bandit’s signature symbol. “The boss sent me here to get you outta here,” he whispers. He begins to dig into the guard’s back pocket and retrieves a ring of keys which he uses to unlock Valentine’s cell.

The door opens with a click and the stranger slides it open, narrowing his eyes at the outlaw. “If you don’t wanna spend the rest of your sorry-ass life in here, follow me and keep quiet.” It doesn’t take Valentine long to make up his mind. He would take anything over wearing an ugly black and white jumpsuit and eating God-awful slop.

Quietly, he follows close behind the stranger down the hallway and around a corner between two other wards of cells. Commotion begins to arise from each ward, prisoners awakening and realizing that someone is escaping. The stranger bends down to move a tile from the floor out of its place, revealing a deep hole that must have taken days to dig. “Down here!” he hisses before ducking down into the manmade hole.

The prisoners begin to knock against their cell doors and walls, yelling and hollering. Quickly, Valentine gets down onto his stomach and slides himself down into the tight, dark hole. He has never escaped in this manner before and he can’t see why any criminal does it.

It’s dank, dark, and dirt keeps getting in his mouth and nose. Not to mention how physically taxing it is. He grunts and struggles to get through certain spaces that are too tight, shimmying along in his elbows and stomach.

But finally, he sees an opening and the stranger pull himself up out of the hole. Valentine follows close after, pushing himself through the opening by his hands. With a gasp, he rises from the hole, breathing in the open air and the night sky above. He’s never been so happy to be above ground before.

But he isn’t at all happy to see who is waiting for him. Other than the stranger, Valentine’s eyes trail up the strong legs of a black Bronco before settling on the man sitting on its back.

He is a big man––at least six feet––and the size of a bear with long hair, a salt-n-pepper beard, an eyepatch, and a gold tooth that glints at him in the moonlight. He wears black everything: a black hat; black slacks; black boots; a black jacket adorned with fringe. He is the most terrifying man to exist in the Wild West. “Benji,” he gasps.

Benji’s smile grows, laugh lines and wrinkles appearing by his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Valentine,” he says in his deep, gruff voice that could make any man tremble. “How was prison for you?”

He doesn’t answer. He rises from his knees and dusts himself off, looking towards the prison. They are right outside of its wired fence, deep in the woods that surround it. “Ya know, crawlin’ through dirt as an escape route ain’t really my style,” he grumbles.

Benji keeps smiling, menacingly so. “You’re lucky I even sent someone to get your ass bein’ that you fucked up and got yourself caught.” He nods at his goon who has settled onto his own horse.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Valentine protests. “That damn idiot duo came after me and threatened to toss me in prison!” He seethes, thinking about you. “And now the bitch that they’re with is against me. She turned out to be the Fatale Femme.”

He has no problem throwing you under the bus. You ruined his entire operation! He was so sure Geto and Gojo would take his offer and let him go free. He was going to leave the county, maybe go overseas, and make his life from there.

It’s bad enough to let Benji once again rope him into another one of his schemes. He just knew that robbing that Cherrywood train would bring him bad luck, but he listened to his boss anyway. “All ya need to do is grab the money with my men and kill the witnesses. You’ll get your cut and I’ll get mine.”

Down on his luck and in need of some quick cash, Valentine agreed, but also had questions: “What about Geto and Gojo? Why are they apart of this? You haven’t worked with them in years.”

Benji just smiled, puffing on his cigar. “Because they need to be reminded that they can’t run from me,” he answered, sending chills down Valentine’s spine. “They’ll never know that I was behind this, but that won’t matter. They think they can suddenly become these saviors, but when the law find them on that train with a bunch of dead bodies, they’ll finally understand that they can’t run from their sins.”

It was punishment for leaving Benji. He wanted the Gunslingers to suffer. Valentine just wanted the money, so he went with it and ran. Now, he not only wants revenge on the duo but on you too.

Benji’s brows rise at the mention of you. “The Fatale Femme teamin’ up with my old gunslingers, eh?” He ponders this, stroking his beard. “Then that means they’re a threat to me, but not for long. That means we’ll have to take them all out of the equation.”

He looks down at Valentine like he’s no more than a bug, those dark eyes like a shark’s. “Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers and Valentine roughly swallows his spit. “I only got ya out of here because I’ve got another job for ya.”

Valentine nods, hanging onto every word: I got word that those two gunslingin’ maggots are headin’ out of the West toward North,” Benji explains. “They’ll be passin’ through Sage County. I need you to follow ‘em with my crew and meet me in Sage County. Attack ‘em on the road if you need to.”

Valentine nods, placing all of these instructions in the back of his mind. “But why are you goin’ to Sage County?” he asks.

Benji pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and holds it between his teeth. “I got a call from four of my old workers earlier after they got arrested in Bull’s Creek. I know Geto and Gojo, so I know that they ask around and obviously know where I’m headed.” He pulls out a match box and lights a match in one strike.

He then lights his cig and takes a puff, holding it between his ringed, inked fingers. “If they show up, I wanna kill them myself–especially that nosey bitch they’ve got with ‘em,” he spits. “I can’t have no one lookin’ for me.”

The severity and seriousness of his words are set by the silence that looms over them along with the ice in Benji’s eyes. Finally, he glares at Valentine. “What are ya waitin’ on, idiot?” he huffs. “Get goin’ and don’t disappoint me.”

He snaps the reins on his horse and takes off into the woods, leaving his goon and Valentine alone.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn romance

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ladyinred2248 · 5 months ago

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King of the North, Part 8

Warnings: Mature. Minors DNI. Sexual themes. Violence. Angst. Mentions of SA. Mentions of self-harm.

Three months later.

The Prince of Ulaid stood on the endlessly tall battlements of the palace, his hands in front of him gracing the stone wall as his deep brown eyes looked out to the horizon. Nervously he fidgeted with his rings and chewed on his lower lip. His intuition had been wrenching him for some time now, a twisting feeling in his stomach he couldn’t ignore.

Ronan was tall, with dark brown hair and eyes that complimented his fair skin, akin to his true father’s handsome features. The young Prince was kind to people of all walks of life and steadfast with loyalty, remaining untainted by the royal family and yet burdened by his own duty, just as Finan had been so many years ago. He had been loved dearly by his mother, who had seen his father in him more every day as he grew, and it had planted seeds of regret in her heart regarding her first husband’s fate. Ronan was raised to know Conall as his “father”, but in all his years had not spent any time of measure in his presence.

“My Prince,” Amelie, a servant girl, beckoned from behind him. “You are troubled that your father has not returned?”

Ronan shook his head softly to her. He had been left in charge of the palace in Ulaid for what was supposed to be a month or so, but now so much more time had passed. Yes, his nerves were getting the better of him. But it was more than that. It was a feeling of unease, a rumbling in his mind that mirrored the storm clouds in the distance.

“I am quite alright, my Lady. Don’t fret,” he winked at her, ever charming her as she felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks. He always called her Lady, even though she couldn’t be further from a woman of nobility.

“Can I assist you with anything, Your Grace?” Amelie spoke quietly again.

Ronan shook his head, reaching over to take her hand in his and placing a kiss to her knuckles. “You may retire for the night. Thank ya for checkin’ in.”

Amelie bowed to him with a girlish giggle, then looked out to the horizon that seemed to eternally hold Ronan’s gaze.

“Take care, Your Grace. The lightning is near.”

He gave her one last soft smile, then looked out to the distant horizon once again and hummed. “A storm is coming.”

The normally calm and collected teenager continued to pace the grounds long after his servant had left, wondering when his adoptive father, Conall, would return. He attempted not to show his worried emotions too easily, as his younger brother, Cinaed, was still reeling from the death of their mother. Ronan was seventeen summers old, and Cinaed was only three summers younger, and yet he lacked emotional maturity and held a more tumultuous temperament.

Cinaed was often free to roam the palace grounds at his leisure, while Ronan had been bound to duty from the very beginning being the first born child and heir. The young prince had been praying that Conall wouldn’t return, the brute that he was. The Kingdom itself was in turmoil, as Conall had been a tyrant of sorts, denying assistance to the poor and collecting hefty taxes regardless of the poverty stricken lands. Danish raids had been striking the coasts relentlessly, further threatening the people of Ulaid and seemingly breaking any spirit they had left. Ronan accepted that it would one day be his duty to overturn the strife that had been continually bestowed upon the people since he was a child. He took in a deep breath, feeling the winds pick up and brushing across his face as storm clouds rolled in closer. He could see the coast just barely in the distance, and his intuition made him take yet another speculative look, but there was nothing to be seen.

Ronan, unlike his younger brother Cinaed, knew the truth of his upbringing. His mother, Dealla, told him the story when he was old enough to truly understand. Dealla strangely had sympathy for his true father’s fate, though she would never admit it in front of Conall for fear of his wrath. Finan and Dealla’s marriage had been arranged for alliances between Kingdoms, and although she had never fallen in love with Finan, she had deep respect for him. She had actually understood to some extent why he had forsaken the Crown. She was plagued with the same noble duties, the same golden cage. They had become at the very least good friends, holding an understanding of one another. Finan treated her kindly, and they assumed their duties, up until Finan had escaped Ulaid.

What followed was painful to live and to watch for his former wife, and Dealla held a tinge of jealousy to know he had fallen in love with another woman. Regardless of their circumstances, she thought Finan would be a capable father to her children, and she felt betrayed. The woman Finan had fallen in love with, Conall’s wife no less, was killed brutally. So the price had inevitably been paid. But Dealla would have simply banished them both if not for Conall’s insistence. She winced in pain whenever she thought back to the day he was caught and beaten, his lover raped and killed. Conall was a monster, and Dealla knew it before that day. She took Conall as her new husband, pressured once again by honorable duty and sealed to a miserable fate. And so began years of strife and political conflict. Ronan had never taken a particular liking to Conall, but Cinaed was younger, more malleable and easier to influence. The younger child and Conall held a bond with one another, while Conall secretly resented Ronan for his likeness to his former brother.

When Ronan came of age to begin the duties necessary to assume the throne, Dealla felt it was her own duty to tell him the story of his most noble father. She told him of the arranged marriage and of the moment the two of them met, how their fathers bargained an alliance with their lives. Furthermore, she spoke of Finan with the utmost respect. The warrior who surpassed everyone in sword craft. The kindest man in all of Ulaid. The man whose smile and laughter would light up the entirety of the King’s Hall. Her greatest friend. She told her son everything. Even the fated tale of Finan being stripped of everything.

Dealla fell ill in the early Spring that year, and her health took no measure of recovery. She was resolved to the fact that she would not live to see her son wear the Crown, however Ronan’s strength and resilience, along with the attributes she loved most about her late husband, were evident in his every movement and actions. She cursed herself for allowing Finan to be sold to the slavers on the coast on that fateful day. He surely hadn’t survived. This was the one lasting regret she had when she closed her eyes one summer evening and never opened them again.

Constantin, Domnal, and the Scottish forces had traveled to the North with you in tow and taken you to your birthplace, back to your homeland once again. The palace where you grew up no longer had the warmth and grace it held before. It was your own personal dungeon, a cage of sorts that held no meaning nor semblance to the peaceful home you had created in Coccham with your lover… your husband, you were painfully reminded every time you thought of him. No, it was only a shell of a predetermined life, one that you had willingly let go of the moment you had met the love of your life.

No longer did you hold the light in your eyes that made Finan beam with longing and lust. Your hopelessness gave way for a seething rage, a deep bitterness that had settled into your body once you knew that there was no resolve to be made. You had been separated from the other half of your soul, forevermore, the worst part being that Finan had resolved to let you go. You understood why he had allowed it, but it shattered your heart just the same.

You had decided to spend your days training in sword craft, either to give you something to look forward to or something to pass the time, you weren’t sure. Regardless, you were through with being a helpless woman of nobility. You would garner strength, and you would someday be capable of defending the child who grew in your belly. You accepted that his or her father might never be there again to protect the both of you. As time went on, it was difficult to hide the growing child in your belly as five months had passed since your last blood. But your father had not yet found you a hand in marriage, and thankfully knew nothing of the bastard child, as he would refer to it. Soon, your father would find out and his plans would be disposed, as no noble man would take you as his wife knowing you had been “ruined”. You scoffed at the thought. At least that was one silver lining to this miserable debacle.

Every time you held the sword in your hands you imagined Finan’s large, calloused hand curling around yours, as if wielding it for you until you had the strength to hold up the heavy blade in any position. Your body now held the resilience to strike quickly and the agility to hold off other offensive blows, your opponents often coming to their knees to defend themselves.

A woman like you needs to be brave.

The words that came from Finan early in your relationship rang in your head over and over with each devastating strike. You were no longer the young woman who was sought out by old men in pretentious castles. You were a force to be reckoned with, so brutally scorned, you simply had nothing left to lose and nothing to gain. Your fury engulfed you so intensely now that you simply had no fear. All of it had melted from you. It had dissipated from your bones the moment you were pulled from his arms, and it was replaced with an unyielding and ungodly fury.

You found as time went on that your preferred weapon was a bow. It was easier to wield given your current state, and you had quite the knack for it as you practiced and managed the craft. You could hit a target from a far distance away, and it helped to imagine your cousin, Domnal, at the end of the target. The liar and betrayer he was. No more loyal to Finan than he was to you. These men only sought out their own ambition, or to cowardly save their own hides. Finan’s fate was sealed the moment he met the Scots, Domnal whispering in his ear and influencing him from the very beginning.

Your heart ached at this thought. You had cried yourself to sleep for months, and the sting in your chest had lessened over time, but time did nothing to ease the pain when you simply brought your mind to your lover and the joyous past. The fleeting moments you held, the joy of getting to know one another. The memories of his laughter and his cheeky grin as he spoke of something that triggered your own laughter. The way his body melted into yours so effortlessly and the way he worshipped you. You took a deep, shuddering breath at the thoughts. His hand intertwined with yours, or searching your body in a passionate frenzy. Nothing had ever felt so natural as when he took your body fervently and passionately. The very act of which gave you the most precious gift, the only thing you had left of him, now slowly growing inside you. You set down your bow as you choked out a sob, falling to your knees and hugging yourself with your arms to brace yourself for the wretching pain.

You loved him more than life itself. You would have put an end to your own life by now if not for the blessing he had bestowed upon you. Your child… your only saving grace. You stood from your knees. You would find Finan again. You would return to him, or you would die trying.

Unbeknownst to you, Uhtred and Finan along with Sihtric and Osferth had devised a crew of men that would accompany them in their travels to Ulaid. The journey thus far had been brutal, but after several months they had finally made headway. They had to cross the sea momentarily and find horses to journey to the palace, but they had made it. It was a grueling journey for Finan, one of hope and of despair. He was without the woman who made him whole, the other half of his soul. The woman who gave him hope to survive, the drive to carry on. He had traveled months to reach his objective, and now that he was faced with it, his fears were plenty. He would meet his own sons. The ones he left behind with such cowardice and foolishness. Would they turn him away? Would they spit in his face? Would they arrest him on sight? Perhaps he didn’t care anymore.

Finan trusted Uhtred more than anyone in the world, and he knew that his Lord would help him see this through. As he had during the siege of Wessex, Finan sought out his own rage to endure the journey, to stay steadfast in his quest. He prayed for your safety and resilience. This whole journey, his whole life’s purpose ever since he had laid eyes upon you had been for you. He would give you his sword, he would lay his life at your feet without a second thought. His love for you was endless and unwavering, and so he endured the torture of coming to the lands of his birth once more.

Ronan was startled as the shouting of an Ulaid guardsman’s voice rang through the hall.

“Your Grace, riders approaching the gates!”

Ronan stood, feeling his own heartbeat in his throat. He would need to address this, as a King would, just as he would need to address everything until Conall’s return. The responsibility gave him a shudder, but he calmed himself with a slow, deep breath.

“Archers to the ramparts.” Ronan commanded loudly. “Do we know who they are?”

“They look like Danes, Your Grace.”

Ronan’s breath hitched once again as he tried to remain calm. The fortress will hold, there is nothing to worry over. Perhaps they are traders. Yes. Perhaps.

Ronan took himself to the stoned battlement, finally allowing himself a gaze of the foreigners who approached the gates now with horses and a band of men that did indeed look like Danes. One of them in particular had his hair shaved on the sides, weaved with braids, and he held himself as if he was their leader as he rode slightly ahead of the rest of the men. Ronan and the Danish leader locked eyes from a far distance, and the Dane shouted up to him.

“Your Grace, we come peacefully. We only wish to speak. I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg, oathman to King Alfred of Wessex.”

The Dane Slayer? Ronan thought. He had heard of him by tales of reputation. He was Alfred’s sword and shield. Conall had traveled South to Mercia with a promise of betrothal by the Scot’s, so perhaps this was a related matter? He looked over the band of men behind the Danish leader, a strange mixture of Dane and Saxon men, one in particular close to Uhtred, a Saxon no doubt, cloaked and hooded mysteriously with a thick beard. No sign of Conall with them, which piqued Ronan’s curiosity. Perhaps they had word of his travels. Regardless, he could not let his guard down. These men had traveled far for a reason of importance, surely.

Ronan cautiously gestured for the guards to lower the drawbridge before shouting down to Uhtred once more. “Welcome to the palace of Ulaid, Uhtred Ragnarsson.”

Finan shuddered at his son’s voice. The current events were now all too real. He had waited for this moment impatiently but loathed it just the same. Uhtred turned his head to look at him, giving Finan a nod, a sympathetic look in his eyes. Not only was Finan likely traumatized to see his homeland and the place he grew up, but to see his firstborn full grown and commanding his guardsmen…it had to be quite the riveting experience.

Uhtred led his men inside the gates, cautiously looking around and observing the stoned fortress, marveling at the craftsmanship and differences between this fortress and the ones he knew well in Wessex and Mercia. The Irish definitely held some advantage when it came to their preparations. Several guardsmen looked in their direction suspiciously, their weapons already drawn.

Uhtred, Finan, and the others dismounted their horses, and a few Ulaid guardsmen quickly came to lead their horses to the stables, much to Uhtred’s surprise. He continued to gaze at the scenery, for it was impressively fortified, a tantalizing sight. Before he knew it, a young man with dark hair and eyes, dressed in noble clothing and surrounded by several guards was coming towards him. Anyone could see plainly with one glance that the young man was a child of Finan’s. It was a sight to behold.

“Lord Uhtred,” Ronan gave him a soft smile, “Welcome. How can I be of assistance to ya?”

Uhtred’s eyes grew soft as he pinched his lips together to hold back any emotions. Inevitably, it was astonishing to see the young man standing before him. Unbelievable even. He could only imagine how Finan felt at that moment.

Uhtred paused to speak. Ronan looked at him suspiciously, then turned his head to look at his guards, then back again at Uhtred. “Uh…Lord?”

Uhtred grinned. “My apologies. This is quite an honorable experience… you have my brother’s eyes.”

Ronan could feel his heart beating strongly in his chest. What was this man talking about? Was this some kind of trick to catch him off guard? He felt his cheeks turn hot with rage, or rather, fear.

The bearded man next to Uhtred suddenly threw the hood of his cloak back, his dark eyes glistening. The guardsmen surrounding Ronan all let out soft gasps, sounds of weapons clashing lightly in preparation and anticipation. Ronan knew then who was standing before him, whether by his eyes or by his heart, he wasn’t sure.

Finan stepped closer to him now, passing Uhtred, and Ronan’s hands trembled as they stood before each other. He had never seen anyone, besides Dealla and in some ways Conall, who bore such resemblance to himself.

Ronan let out a choked whisper.

“You’re alive?”

Finan cocked his head to the side.

“…You know who I am?”

“…I do.”

Finan softly smiled at him. His son was so tall and dashing in his armor. Such a brave young man to be standing here in front of foreign invaders. His nobility shined through him like he was born to lead, and he was.

The silence between them was deafening as Ronan walked even closer, giving Finan a firm nod.

“I am glad you are alive.”

Finan’s glistening eyes finally let a tear escape, rolling across his cheek. He couldn’t help himself any longer. He trudged forward, grabbing his son up into a strong embrace, which made Ronan’s tears escape as well.

“I am so sorry about yer mother, Lad. I am sorry for everything. I am here now… if ya will have me.”

Ronan felt more vulnerable than he had ever felt in his entire lifetime as he wrapped his arms tightly around Finan. He sobbed into him relentlessly now as Finan returned the tight embrace. They had never met, and yet here they were, so naturally bonded.

Sniffles were made between Uhtred’s men at the sight. Most of the guardsmen recognized Finan, and it was a sight to behold seeing him back again, his own son in his arms.

Ronan pulled away slightly, wiping tears from his face on the back of his hand. “Come. I feel there is much to discuss.”

Finan smiled, patting his son on the back as he looked over his shoulder at Uhtred, who gave him a smile in return.

>>>Part 9

Note: I used the same name for Finan’s first wife as some other Fics have, to keep some continuity established by the Fandom. :) hopefully that’s alright with everyone. If not, feel free to reach out 💖

Taglist: @gemini-mama @persephones-journey @alexagirlie @justanother-sihtricgirlie @whitedarkmoonflower @bcon24 @ficnation

#the last kingdom #finan the agile #finan tlk #tlk fandom #the last kingdom finan #tlk fanfic #finan tlk fanfic #finan x reader

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

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UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 9 (Epilogue)

Chapter 9 (Epilogue): There’s Some Kind Of Heaven Just Around The Corner

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: After many months of not writing, I present to you the epilogue of S1 for TLOU. Thank you for sticking by me with my silly little stories, I can never express how grateful I am to have you all. I’m horrified and excited at the thought of S2, maybe the reader could change the important ending… who knows. Stay safe everyone <3

Song: Intermission by Sleeping At Last

Previous Chapter -> Season 2 | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD 2023

SILVER LAKE, COLORADO TO SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH – A FEW WEEKS LATER…

The cool breeze of the evening brushes against your face as you sit on the porch of the farmhouse, strumming the strings of the guitar Joel now treasures. The people of Jackson have embraced you warmly, welcoming you back into their community. The topic of the Fireflies remains unspoken, a shared understanding between you and Joel. It lingers in the background, a memory that only surfaces when necessary.

Life in Jackson has brought a sense of normalcy, a semblance of the life you had before the chaos consumed the world. But this time, it's different. This time, you feel like you belong, like you are loved. The little family you've formed with Joel and Ellie has found solace within the walls of this farmhouse. As the seasons pass by, a routine settles in, and the farmhouse pulses with life, as if it has its own heartbeat.

The bugs begin to retreat once again, signaling the transition from summer to autumn. You find yourself on the porch, the guitar resting gently on your lap. It was a gift for Joel, a token of appreciation and love, but it also earned you a playful scolding. Joel made it clear that you should never leave Jackson without informing him first. It was a testament to his protectiveness, a reminder of the bond that has grown between you.

At this moment, the world seems so simple. The rush of blood through your veins transports you back to your youth, when fear and uncertainty were distant notions. Seventeen again, you find yourself unafraid of death, daring to dream once more. The curve of the valley before you holds a profound meaning. Happiness emanates from within as you gaze at the serene surroundings.

As the words echo in your mind, they bring a smile to your face. Joel's voice resounds in your memory, "I'll never let you go." Those five words hold a depth of emotion, a promise that transcends the hardships you've endured. In this tranquil moment, you realize that you have found a home, a place where love and safety intertwine. You are content, knowing that Joel is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges may come.

The future may hold uncertainties, but for now, you bask in the stillness, cherishing the connection that binds you and Joel together. The world may be broken, but within the embrace of this farmhouse, you have found solace, love, and a renewed sense of purpose. And as you continue to strum the guitar, the notes reverberate through the air, carrying the harmony of your newfound happiness into the world.

Lost in the nostalgic melody, you find yourself humming a tune that holds a special place in your heart. The tranquility of the moment is interrupted by the gentle reminder that you're wearing one of Joel's shirts, two sizes too big. It's a simple gesture, a symbol of the closeness you share, but it also serves as a reminder that nothing is certain in this world. Doubts linger, even as you begin to feel at home.

The passing year has been arduous, and its weight lingers in your mind. The slow progress makes you question if you're truly moving forward. Trust is a scarce commodity, earned by only a select few. The scars etched upon your bodies, remnants of battles fought in your youth, serve as a constant reminder of the dangers that persist. And yet, the revelation of a collapsing sun and rising seas, of crumbling buildings, brought about a new understanding of the fragility of existence.

As you continue strumming and humming, Joel stands by the door, captivated by the beauty that radiates from you. The sun begins its descent on the southern horizon, casting a warm glow on the scene. Unable to resist any longer, Joel quietly approaches, his footsteps barely audible. He wraps his arms around your waist, his presence causing you to giggle. His lips press against the side of your neck, the scruff of his chin tickling your skin.

"Joel!" you playfully chide, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice. He responds with a hum, his voice filled with affection, "My sweet Birdie..."

You quickly place the guitar on the side, and in that tender moment, you realize that despite the uncertainties and doubts that surround you, you have found a sanctuary in each other. Joel's embrace offers a sense of security, a refuge from the storms that rage outside. You feel a rush of gratitude for the love you've found amidst the chaos, and a renewed determination to protect what you hold dear.

Basking in the warmth of Joel's affection, you turn your head to meet his gaze, curiosity tugging at your thoughts. "How was the patrol today?" you inquire, wanting to know about the world beyond the safety of Jackson's walls.

Joel plants gentle kisses on the side of your head, your cheek, and finally on your lips, his love conveyed through each tender touch. His gaze locks with yours, his southern accent subtly peeking through as he responds, "Today was good, darlin'. Nothin' for your pretty head to worry about."

A sense of relief washes over you, knowing that for at least one day, the dangers that loom outside haven't posed a threat. But your thoughts naturally drift to Ellie, the young woman who has become an integral part of your lives. You can't help but bring her up, knowing that Joel's bond with her is unbreakable.

"What about Ellie? How's she doing?" you ask, genuine concern lacing your words. Ellie's resilience and determination have become a source of inspiration, even amidst the darkest of times.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Joel's lips as he replies, his voice filled with fondness, "Ellie's holdin' up. Been keepin' busy, learnin' new skills, and takin' care of herself. She's got that fire in her, just like you."

The mention of Ellie's fiery spirit brings a wave of admiration. You can't help but feel proud of her growth, of the strength she embodies. In this broken world, the relationships you've forged hold immense importance, anchoring you to hope and reminding you of the enduring power of love.

Nestling closer to Joel, you rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a soothing lullaby. "I'm glad she's finding her way," you murmur softly, your voice filled with genuine affection. "We're lucky to have her in our lives."

Joel's arms tighten around you, his voice brimming with tenderness as he responds, "Ain't that the truth, darlin'. We're blessed to have each other, and no matter what comes our way, we'll face it together."

Feeling a surge of love for Joel, you lift your head from his chest to meet his gaze. The twinkle in his eyes tells a story of unwavering devotion, and a mischievous grin plays upon his lips. You can't help but become enveloped in his warmth, finding solace in his presence.

"I don't tell you enough, Joel," you begin, your voice filled with sincerity, "but you mean the world to me. I love you.”

Joel's expression softens, his gaze locked with yours. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "You know, darlin'," he replies, his voice slightly husky, "you mean the world to me too. There ain't a day that goes by where I don't thank my lucky stars for bringin' you into my life."

The vulnerability in Joel's words tugs at your heartstrings, and you lean in, pressing a tender kiss against his lips. It's a gentle affirmation of the love that binds you together, a silent promise of forever.

As you pull back, a playful glimmer dances in Joel's eyes. "You know," he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "I reckon I'm the luckiest man alive. Not only do I have the most beautiful person by my side, but I've also got a hell of a good kisser."

His words elicit a giggle from you, the sound filling the air with pure joy. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you whisper, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Miller."

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, relishing the closeness and the unspoken language of love that flows between you. With each passing moment, the world outside fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth and tenderness of this intimate connection.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves overhead, the delicate dance of foliage creating a symphony of nature. Your fingers entwined with Joel's, each touch a testament to the warmth and tenderness that envelops you in this serene moment.

In the ambient glow of the evening, the air pulses with an almost tangible affection. The space between you and Joel becomes a canvas painted with an unspoken promise that transcends the limitations of words. In the delicate interplay of shared vulnerabilities and profound love, you find a sanctuary where the concept of time fades, replaced by the eternal embrace of this connection.

In this fleeting instance, bathed in the gentle twilight, you take solace in the richness of your conversation. Despite the shadows that loom from past events and the uncertainties that await, the presence of Joel beside you becomes a steadfast beacon, guiding you through the dimly lit corridors of life.

The embrace continues, a dance of shared whispers and laughter, a rhythmic exchange that weaves together the tapestry of your lives. Amidst the harshness of the world, the cocoon of your love becomes a refuge, a source of strength, and a testament to the formidable power of unity.

Yet, beneath the surface of this idyllic scene, a quiet ache persists, a shadow that lingers in the corners of your consciousness. There are nights when Joel lies peacefully asleep beside you, unaware of the storm that rages within your mind. In those quiet hours, memories materialize, hazy and elusive, casting a spectral glow on the canvas of your thoughts.

You can see him on the porch, the soft strains of a guitar accompanying the melancholic melody of your recollections. The air is charged with the bittersweet echoes of a past that refuses to be forgotten. There are nights when tears silently trace the contours of your face, the weight of remembered endings pressing upon your heart.

Joel, the silent guardian at your side, remains oblivious to the tempest within. His presence is a comfort, but the specter of a different ending, an alternate narrative, leaves you restless in the quiet hours of the night. The story, once written in ink, now seems to bleed into the realm of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

And so, in the embrace of the night, you grapple with the dichotomy of love and loss, finding solace in the tangible warmth of Joel's presence, even as the ghosts of untold stories linger in the shadows.

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe@missdragon-1 @ponyboys-sunsets @ipadkidsworld @otternanamilolo @issybee0611 @technicallysassyfox @cupcakemachete @manuchyy @darkened-writer @andyrazzledazzle @glossythor @virtueassassin @witchy-jadda @imonmykneessir @norr1e @mando-bix @thicficbich1 @adoringanakin @lalla-04p @reallysparklychaos @hollywoodmariposa @mando-bix @lunatic1012 @davosmymaster

#joel miller x reader #etherealupdates #joel miller x female reader #joel miller masterlist #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller series #joel the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic rec

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cookies-over-yonder · 6 months ago

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the ballad of an (un)diagnosed private investigator

In junior year, Riz is finally forced to face one of his worst enemies yet—an undiagnosed anxiety disorder threatening to compromise his grades, his relationships, and, most of all, his sanity.

chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | ?

Chapter 3 Summary:

Pok gets paid a visit.

ao3

Pok wasn't expecting a visit this late, but it's certainly a pleasant surprise.

He sits at his chair in front of his grave, and sees Sklonda sit down across from him.

"I need you, Pok," she starts, running a hand through her hair.

It's a line Pok's heard many times since death.

Actually, many times before death too.

"I can't raise him on my own. I fucked up. I keep fucking up."

He watches the tears slide down her face.

He remembers the days when he could wipe them away with a swift motion of the thumb.

"He has so much anxiety, Pok. It's bad. It's really bad. And—and I yelled at him. I yelled at him for brushing it off, because—because he scared me. I—I held him in my arms for an hour while he was hyperventilating, and when he woke up afterward I yelled. What kind of mother am I?" she sobs, "What kind of mother does that?"

Pok doesn't bother to speak, because he knows she wouldn't hear it.

Instead, he gets off his chair and walks over, kneeling down next to her and putting his hand over hers on the grass.

It goes right through, with a translucent glow.

Pok looks around, turning to gaze at the sky, glittering with stars, and when she looks up too, he almost feels like he's young and alive again, stargazing with his wife and a baby on the way.

Something in him makes him turn around, and he sees, off in the distance, Riz, tall and seventeen, not a baby in the womb, standing still and staring at his mom, before promptly running away.

He sighs loudly at the sight, and Sklonda shivers.

Maybe she felt it.

Or maybe it was a trick of the wind.

Either way, he sits with her, stewing in the wonder, and concern, and awe, and fear, and love that is their son.

And when he tries to hug her, he wonders if she can feel his tears too.

#riz gukgak #sklonda gukgak #fantasy high #fhjy #d20 #fanfic #cookies writes and cookies wrongs #pok gukgak #the ballad of an (un)diagnosed private investigator

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mybl--dyvalentine · 10 months ago

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Insufferable જ⁀➴ Vernon

✮ idol! vernon x manager! fem! reader

✮ Summary: Job searching wasn't always the easiest. Employers read your resume and completely brush you off once they deem you as unfit. Until an unexpected acceptance from one of the biggest idol companies in the world reached you. Who knew that the job would lead to a meeting of fate.

✮ Genre: Angst? girl idk.

✮ Warnings: Swearing and a near death experience

✮ Word Count: 2,832

Y/N:

The sound of birds chirping filled the room, which woke me up. I blink until my vision begins to clear and stare at the ceiling, contemplating whether or not to be productive or procrastinate. My phone lights up with a notification. I pick up my phone and stare at the notification, processing what it says.

"Hybe Labels... Why does that sound so familiar?"

I swipe up and press on the safari app. Halfway through typing in Hybe Labels to look it up, I remember. THE Hybe Labels emailed ME? I applied for so many different jobs that I completely forgot about which companies I even applied to. A small scream left my mouth before I grasped the situation. I have to open the email. Anticipation took over my body, controlling it to the point where I stood and stared at my phone for a couple minutes. After building up enough courage, I opened the email.

Hybe Labels: Employment

Hello Y/N,

After careful consideration, we ultimately decided to hire you as a manager! The group you will be managing is SEVENTEEN. We will provide more information after we get your verbal acceptance during a meeting with the head manager.

Best Regards,

Sung-Ho

I fall back onto my bed and let out a huge sigh. After job hunting for so long, I thought I'd end up broke this month. I grin and get up, ready to start my day.

"Who knew picking an outfit would be so difficult?" I say to myself while looking in my mirror and posing.

Currently, I'm sporting a fitted grey button-down tucked into a darker grey pencil skirt with black pumps and black tights. My hair is up in a claw clip, and I decided to wear black rectangle glasses to complete the outfit. The goal was to look like a manager, and I ended up looking like a generic office worker.

"Well, at least it's business casual." I say while grabbing my phone to check the time.

"Oh shoot! It's already 11 am? I need to leave right now."

After grabbing my purse and keys, I ran to my car. I finally head to Hybe Headquarters. After parking, I realized I forgot to do makeup. In a rush, I quickly slapped on some lip balm, lip tint, concealer, mascara, and blush. I exit my car immediately after and speed walk to the entrance. The place is very sleek and modern. It exudes richness and is kind of intimidating. I look around the lobby and see a person who looks like a receptionist. I quickly make my way towards them.

"Hi, I'm here for a meeting with the head manager?" I ask.

"What's your name?" They say.

"Y/N." I say with a smile.

They look at their monitor and start typing. The typing went on for who knows how long until I was snapped back into reality by their voice.

"Okay, you can head up. The head manager is going to be there at 2 pm. Just wait outside the door with the number 224 on floor three. There should be some chairs near it so you can sit down."

"Alright! Thank you." I turn to face the elevator and head over to it.

I punch in the upwards arrow and wait for the elevator to arrive. I take a quick glance around the room to get a grasp on the atmosphere. It's mostly people dressed in monochromatic outfits and all look somewhat wealthy. I really don't fit the aesthetic of this place. The elevator dings and I look at the slowly opening doors. I walk into an empty elevator and press the button with the number three on it. The doors close and I patiently wait to reach floor three when the elevator stops at floor 2. Once the doors finally open, I'm greeted with a man. He looked quite familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. He glances at me and doesn't utter a single word.

"Hello. Which floor are you headed to?" I ask curiously.

He takes a couple steps to reach the buttons and presses the button with a four on it while completely ignoring my question.

"Ooookay." I say quietly.

It doesn't take a lot of common sense to answer a simple question that doesn't even take up that much of your time. Plus I was trying to help by pressing the button for him. I roll my eyes and wait for the elevator to reach floor three. The elevator finally dings and I walk out looking for which side has the room number 224. After reaching the room, I take a seat and pull out my phone from my purse to check the time.

"1:59? I made it just in time." I sigh with relief.

I pocket my phone and lightly tap my fingers on one another while looking around. There wasn't much to see other than a big grey door, some chairs, and a couple potted plants. Some footsteps and voices emerged from the direction of the elevator. As they got closer, I got more anxious.

"You must be Y/N." A man asks while another opens the door.

"Ah, yes that's me." I say nervously.

"Great! Come in." He waves his hand into the now open doors.

I slowly walk in and see a long table with lots of chairs filling up the empty spaces.

"Have a seat right here." He points to a chair next to the biggest chair in the room.

I sit down and wait for them to start asking questions. The men settle down in their seats and finally look at me.

"I assume you've read our email considering you're here right now?" The man in the big chair asks.

"Yes, I have. I'm here to verbally accept your offer to work as a manager for seventeen." I say.

"That's wonderful. Here we have your resume, I took a quick look at it and I truly believe you are perfect for this job."

"Thank you sir."

"It says here that you have managed for an idol group previously correct?"

"Yes, I have."

"It's nice to hear you won't need that much time to get in action."

I stifle a laugh due to the tense air.

"Well anyways, Are you able to start today? Seventeen is supposed to be recording a GOING Seventeen episode today and we'll need someone to manage them."

"Of course!"

"Great. I'll have you formally introduce yourself in a bit. Go head up to their practice room on floor four. They should be there right now. I'll send them a notice that you'll be arriving."

"Alright. Thank you sir. I'll be on my way now." I grin and get up from my seat to leave the room.

After closing the door, I let out a sigh. The tense air really made me struggle to breathe. At least I secured the job before I said anything weird. I walk back to the elevator and press the upwards arrow. The elevator dings and I see a man inside.

"Hi! I don't think I've seen you here before. My name is Seungkwan." He holds out his hand.

"Hello, my name is Y/N." I shake his hand. "And uh... I'm your new manager."

He pauses for moment, staring at me.

"Oh good! We've been needing one since our last one got sick and had to quit. Which floor are you headed to by the way?"

"Floor four. I was on the way to properly introduce myself to you guys in your practice room. The head manager said he'd send a notice to you guys."

"Ohhh that's what that was? Well anyways It's nice to meet you." He says while punching in the number four.

"It's nice to meet you too." I say.

The elevator dings and Seungkwan and I step out of the elevator to head towards the practice room. Loud music could be heard throughout the entire hallway. We finally reach the door to the practice room and Seungkwan stops me.

"Could you wait out here for a second? I'll let the guys know that you're here so that they could get themselves ready."

"Sure."

He opens the door and walks in closing it immediately. I could hear faint talking which was quickly taken over by the sound of sneakers. The door then opens shortly after and Seungkwan pops his head out.

"Come on in!" He grins while opening the door wider.

I slowly walk in to be greeted by 12 other men. A barrage of greetings came my way as I walked towards them. I returned the greetings and finally had a good look at all 13 of them. While I was scanning each of them, one of them caught my eye. He looked familiar. It was the same guy that ignored me earlier!

"I have a quick question." I say glaring at the inconsiderate guy.

Vernon:

"By the way guys, the head manager said that we'd be filming a GOING Seventeen episode today." S.Coups announces during a break from practicing.

I give him a nod and head to the water station in the practice room. After pulling out a white cup from the stack and setting it under the faucet, I notice that there wasn't any water inside the jug.

"Seriously?" I say to myself.

"What happened?" Jun asks.

"There isn't anymore water so I'm gonna have to go all the way down floor 2 to get a drink."

I put back the cup on the stack and exit the practice room. After pressing the button with a number two on it, I walk inside the elevator. My song "2 Minus 1" is quietly playing inside the elevator. While humming along to the song, I exit the elevator and head towards the nearest water station on the second floor. Once I finally reach the station, I quickly grab a cup and fill it to the brim with water. I empty the water into my mouth and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. After trashing the cup, I make my way back to the practice room. The elevator dings and I see a woman standing inside. I give her a quick glance and enter the elevator.

"Hello. Which floor are you headed to?" She asks.

None of your business. I'm already irritated from getting a couple moves wrong during practice, so I don't feel like answering anyone's questions let alone someone I've just met. I just move in front of the buttons and punch in the button with the number four on it. I hear her mumble something under her breath, but I pay no attention to it as I've already tuned her out. The doors open with a ring and I shuffle out of the elevator and walk to my practice room.

"Hey guys, are we going to continue or are we waiting on someone?" I ask while opening the door.

"Oh, Seungkwan is currently out right now. We'll start back up when he gets here." Hoshi answers.

Five minutes later, the door opens and Seungkwan appears.

"Okay, get together guys we finally have a new manager. She's right outside and waiting to introduce herself to us." He says.

We all nod and get in a group. Seungkwan opens the door to reveal a woman who looks very familiar. It's like I've seen her somewhere before. All of the other members proceed to introduce themselves while I'm deep in thought.

"I have a quick question." She says while staring at me.

"I don't think I caught your name." She points out.

"Oh! Um... It's Vernon." I say reluctantly.

"Oh I remember why you looked so familiar!" She puts a finger in the air.

"Care to explain why you ignored me earlier in the elevator?" She tilts her head.

The other members all look at me. Each of them sporting a confused look on their faces. I quickly glance at each other and open my mouth to say something. But nothing comes out. My ears turn red and my brows scrunch. How dare she embarrass me in front of my members!

"U-um.. I'm sorry for him, I think he's having a rough day. A couple mistakes during practice you know?" S.Coups grins trying to cover for me.

The other members nod their heads and change the topic.

"Shouldn't we head out soon? We have an episode to record today." She says while checking her phone.

Everyone collectively agrees and leaves me standing alone in the practice room. I head over to my bag in the corner of the room.

"I swear she's out to get me." I say while picking up my bag.

"I'll get her back." I say while walking out the practice room.

Y/N:

"CUT! That marks the end of our filming today. Great work guys." The director says through a megaphone.

This episode was all about water sports so each of the members were decked out in swimming gear. I felt good about today. Being able to help on set of a GOING Seventeen episode is new to me but it seems as if I did a good job.

"Y/N! Could you come here for a second?" Vernon yells.

I look away from the director and to him. A confused expression wipes away my previous smile.

"Oh. Uh sure." I yell back.

I treads over to me and he give me a quick smile.

"Isn't such a beautiful day?" I says while staring at the sky.

"You're right. It is a beautiful day." He says back.

I stood still analyzing each of the different clouds and colors in the now sun-setting sky. It was so pretty it captivated me. Then it was oddly silent. It felt as if Vernon disappeared and I was left there. I turn my head around to see if anyone was still there.

"Hello?" I say while looking for another person.

Then suddenly I feel a push behind my back. There was a strong wind and then a cold temperature engulfed my body. All I could see were plants and a clear turquoise liquid. Then it hit me. I was underwater. Bubbles quickly rushed upwards as I frantically tried to reach the surface. I flailed my arms and legs to try to push myself upwards, but my position remained the same. In a final attempt I extend my arm as far as I could to at least give a signal that I was drowning. My vision started to blur and by this time, I lost too much air. This was it. I'm going to die here.

---

A bright light slipped into the crack of my eyelids. I look around the room. The place was neatly decorated and I was laid on a couch. Memories flooded my brain. I was never taught how to swim, so drowning was always one of my greatest fears. I looked at my body. Someone changed my clothes. I'm in a big t-shirt and shorts, my heels at the bottom of the couch. I get up from the couch and find a mirror in a hallway. My hair is damp and tousled and my makeup is completely ruined. I put my hands on my arms and turn around to check my phone. As I walk towards the couch I hear something.

A deep voice came from outside, "how was I supposed to know she couldn't swim? It was supposed to be a harmless prank."

"Harmless prank or not, it still put her life in danger. I hope you realize that being rude doesn't get you anywhere." Another voice answers.

I storm outside, frustrated that Vernon pushed me and thinks that this was just some 'harmless prank'. Once I get through the door, I see him. Vernon. He's talking to S.Coups with a pained expression.

"What the hell was that for huh? Who thinks that it's a good idea to just push someone into a body of water?" I yell.

He looks at me a little shocked, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-."

"I don't wanna hear some half-assed apology! You almost got me killed and all you can say is 'look, I'm sorry'?" I raise my voice.

"Well then what DO you want to hear? At least I'm apologizing no?" He crosses his arms.

My face flushed. I didn't exactly know what I wanted to hear. It's as if nothing he could say would make me forgive him. He stared at me. Waiting for an answer.

"Look guys, that's enough. You both need some time apart. Y/N I'll talk to Vernon and make sure we get this whole situation figured out." S.Coups says.

"No, I think that she shouldn't be so-." Vernon says before getting his mouth covered and dragged away by S.Coups.

I glare at Vernon as he's being pushed away. How could he? What did I ever do to him? These are questions that I need desperately answered.

i hate this idk if i wanna finish this

#vernon #vernon x reader #vernon x y/n #vernon x you #seventeen #svt #vernon fanfic #hansol vernon chwe #choi hansol

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ryttu3k · 10 months ago

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BECAUSE I AM DUMB (and it is almost 2am) I sent you an astarion ask for the ship ask, but my brain meant wyllstarion! (apparently my brain decided that astarion is intrinsically connected to wyllstarion)

Haha, all good! <3

[ship meme]

Ship It

1. What made you ship it?

lmao it was a post about that clip saying that Astarion used to dream of marrying a man like Wyll. Just the thought of Astarion feeling like he's too old and jaded and cynical for this very pure romance, but Wyll still being young and idealistic and intensely romantic and, you know what, he's going to woo the heck out of this mysterious and charming elf he's crushing on.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Okay so. I have a List.

They bring out the best in each other. Wyll encourages Astarion, by his actions, to help people, to do good, to be heroic. Wyll so wholeheartedly believes in being a hero that it just... starts rubbing off on Astarion too. Conversely, Wyll can be selfless to a fault, and Astarion can sort of reel him back a bit, get him to think about himself and his own needs. I absolutely believe that left on his own, Wyll would agree to Mizora's deal and sacrifice his own freedom for his father, and Astarion is probably the one best positioned to get Wyll to think about his own future and reject the pact.

The contrasts and parallels in their story. The obvious contrast, monster vs monster hunter, starting out (more or less) chaotic evil vs lawful good, but eventually meeting somewhere in the middle (see: above point about bringing out the best in each other). And then the parallels - both of them are heavily under the influence of someone else, seemingly abandoned by the gods and any other important support structures (Astarion being cut off by Cazador from any kind of support, Wyll being disowned by Ulder who I still haven't forgiven, he was seventeen years old!!), and their main narrative arc is about breaking free from their respective tormentors, and working out who they can be as their own free people. Why not do that together?

The romance is so healing for Astarion. More one-sided here, in that it's more of a benefit for Astarion than it is for Wyll, but a slow courtship is exactly what Astarion needs, with this foundation of trust building, knowing that Wyll cares about him for more than just what he can do in bed.

The mutual attraction. They're so down bad for each other. Using your own post here, Astarion critically fails a charisma roll and Wyll is just. Lucky for you I'm into that shit.

The hands the hands. The hands!

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Honestly, I think they genuinely do work best as a poly ship (or like, a QPP thing) with Karlach. I love all three relationships individually, but I also love them together (there's a lovely post on their dynamic as a trio here, looking at them platonically, but it still holds out for a romance). Wyll and Karlach's storylines are intrinsically bound together, and indeed the only way for Karlach to have a happy ending at this point is with Wyll and/or a love interest accompanying her back to Avernus. I... can't really see Wyll being able to brush off not helping Karlach, leading to her death; I think if she does die, he'd be deeply depressed and feel a lot of guilt for it.

Astarion, too, really values Karlach. He's the most gentle about her if Tav is torn between them, there's just this very sweet dynamic between them. And Karlach clearly adores both of them too! She and Wyll become best friends, she's basically ready to go to war against Cazador to protect Astarion, there's just... so much love and care between the three of them that I can't see any one of them wanting to leave one of the others behind. My 'canon' ending for them would be all three going to Avernus (which Wyll openly offers to do and which Astarion is 100% willing to do as well), finding a solution for Karlach's engine and Astarion's sun issues, and then returning to Baldur's Gate to start working out a future - together.

So in conclusion:

Astarion/Wyll: Good shit.

Wyll/Karlach: Good shit.

Karlach/Astarion: Good shit (but please fix the Origin spawn Astarion ending, Larian!!)

Karlach/Wyll/Astarion: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #the blade of frontiers #the pale elf #bloodpact #wyllstarion #and some mentioned #wyllachstarion

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thompsborn · 10 months ago

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gonna make little chapter recaps while i reread what's posted of homeward bound so far. and then i am going to bust out chapter seventeen. might not finish it this weekend, but i hope to get a majority of it written. let's get into it.

starting with chapter one - i'm so tired of being afraid

word count: 7,535 (7,515 without the chapter lyrics at the start)

chapter song: six by sleeping at last

chapter lyrics:

what would it feel like to put this baggage down? if i'm being honest i'm not sure i'd know how

recap + lines i felt were important enough to jot down:

peter moves into his new apartment (december 2024)

peter decides that needs to be alone

"when he's alone, there's no one to let down but himself."

peter looks up norman, otto, max, flint, and curt as a precaution now that he knows they turned into villains in the other worlds

norman and otto: started oscorp together during the five year gap between snaps, but have not gotten very far due to the world mourning the half of the population that's gone and also because stark industries is already a powerhouse in all the industries that oscorp is trying to step a foot into. peter deems them not a threat for now but will occasionally check on them just to be safe.

max and flint: peter is unable to find records of anyone with their names when looking them up. that's doesn't guarantee they don't exist in this world, they could have different names or something like that, but peter finds no trace of them and feels like it's safe to assume they don't exist here. he'll still check again occasionally to see if anything pops up down the line.

curt: a professor at empire state university with no signs of any of the things that happened in the other world happening to him here. again, peter will check occasionally to make sure, but overall he thinks that his world is most likely safe from these five people becoming villains like they did in the other peter's worlds.

peter looks into empire state university after looking up curt and thinks about how he'd like to go to college. it's always been part of his life plan. his life is completely different than what it was ever supposed to be and he'd need to get his GED, but he thinks about how he'd like to still go if he can make it work.

peter decides he needs to remake his suit, partially because he other suits can't be used anymore now that karen doesn't recognize him - edith doesn't recognize him anymore, either, which makes peter sad because he feels like he's lost a connection that he had with tony after tony's death - but he also wants to remake his suits because he knows the other peter's made their own from suits from scratch as well, so he thinks it's pretty fitting and thinks that it's kind of like he's building himself up from scratch and starting over for good - "...as both Peter Parker and as Spider-Man"

"and karen not knowing him feels a lot like losing another friend."

he includes peter 2 and peter 3 in his suit design to honor them and remind himself that, even if he is alone in his world, he isn't alone in the universe.

raimi spidey emblem on his chest:

and tasm spidey emblem on his back:

"when peter gets lost, or angry, or overwhelmed... he has reminders of them, interwoven into his suit, for him to brush his fingers against and think to himself, be strong, peter. do it for your brothers."

peter had an uncle ben in his world, but his uncle ben died less than two years after his parents did when he was six and a half years old. peter thinks about how his uncle ben impacted his life in a much different life than the other peter's. his uncle ben's last words shaped his morals and his outlook in life, to the point that, when tony first showed up to recruit peter for germany, he had used his own wording based on what ben said to explain why being spidey is so important to him.

"he remembers ben shrugging, remembers him smiling, remembers him saying, "if i didn't help, it'd be my fault, too." the way he said it had been so simple, so sure - a philosophy he fully and passionately believed in."

actually just this whole section feels very important to me so i'm going to copy and paste it right here:

In a way, Uncle Ben played a significant part in Peter becoming Spider-Man, but not in the same way that the Other Peter’s seemed to be influenced by their Uncle Ben’s. Peter remembers that he didn’t think much of the last words he heard his Ben say for a while, but that they seemed to click in his head around the time he was nine or ten, and suddenly they were words he wanted to live by. Doing good, and getting in the way to stop bad things, no matter how big or how small, because then it’d be his fault, too, if he didn’t.

It’s what he told Mr. Stark, back when he was still fourteen almost fifteen and the man had appeared in his apartment. When you can do the things I can, he had said—not exactly what Ben had said, no, kind of added onto by Peter, altered with the weight of Spider-Man stacked on top of the same philosophy he already lived by—but you don’t, and then the bad things happen… they happen because of you.

It’s not what the Other Peter’s talked about, though—because Ben didn’t tell Peter that great power comes with great responsibility. Aunt May told him that. But, for the Other Peter’s, it had been an Uncle that lived longer than his own did.

Then again, the Other Peter’s didn’t have the Avenger’s, and they never had Mr. Stark. Maybe it’s just different because each world isn’t supposed to be the same, and that’s all there is to it.

also may's line from right before ben died, which peter later tells harley about when telling harley the truth about his life:

“You stupid Parker men,” May had scoffed. “Way too selfless for your own good.”

peter thinks that it feels important that uncle ben had such a huge role in shaping who he is, and how the ben's of the other worlds had such a huge part in the other peter's lives as well, even if it was in vastly different ways. he then thinks about how, out of the very few things that peter was able to get out of his and may's old apartment before it was cleared out, one of them happened to be a box of uncle ben's old stuff - including, at the very top of the box, ben's old camera.

peter learns how to use ben's camera to take pictures properly in order to then take pictures of himself as spidey to sell to the daily bugle. he thinks it's amusing and ironic that the pictures he takes are used for articles that slander spidey, knowing that jjj would probably lose his shit if he knew he bought the pictures from spider-man himself.

"everything seems to be trial and error these days - life was never a certainty before, but now it's pretty clearly up in the air and he's left scrambling to try and figure it out, approaching every corner completely blind to what he'll find when he turns it - but that's alright, because he's got the brain of a scientist and trial and error could just be another term for experiment, so it works out well."

that ^ quote is a nice tie in to the tony flashback that happens in chapter 16, where tony calls peter an observer and says that peter is always gathering information and how peter looks more than most people do because peter likes to be prepared and likes to understand.

peter spends new years eve alone (new years, 2024) and watches the fireworks while thinking about the other peter's not being alone before going back to patrol.

peter gets his first Big Injury since ending up completely on his own. he has no one to call and he has no super pain killers like the ones tony had made for him before tony died. the injury starts at his left hip, goes over his ribs, stops at the center of his chest. it was done with a knife. peter has to stitch himself up. it's the first time he's ever done stitches on himself.

he passes out after finishing the stitches and wakes up almost a full day later. thinks about his healing and how his enhancements are definitely being negatively impacted by his lackluster eating habits - he's broke as fuck and also doesn't have much of an appetite due to being traumatized and depressed.

"part of him wonders how drastic a change it really is - wonders if, maybe, the scars will stop fading away. for some reason, that's the thought that makes him feel sick to his stomach."

fun fact: this injury is the one that peter tells harley about in chapter 15 when harley is asking about some of peter's scars.

and that's the end of chapter one! these little recaps are entirely for my own benefit - the only reason i'm posting them is because giving myself the expectation and responsibility of posting them will make me actually commit to recapping every chapter, which will make working on chapter seventeen a lot fucking easier and will make it so i'm able to finish chapter seventeen a lot fucking faster.

i will be reblogging with the chapter two recap shortly

#homeward bound fic

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