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mistriavalley · 4 months ago

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The storm behind your eyes (Sebastian x reader)

Note: It's the first time I've written smut on English so I rlly hope this turned out at least decent lmao

TW: 18+ smut MDNI, fingering, reader has a vagina, no protection, exhibitionism, mentions of smoking and cigarettes, slight angst

Masterlist

It was one of those dark days in summer when the rain pattered loudly against the windows and the thunder exploded deafeningly over the roofs. Fortunately, this didn't bother your farm animals too much. They were accustomed to the valley's unpredictable weather.

But it was strange to stay at home at times like this. Normally, you spent the whole day outside, running around Pelican Town like a headless chicken, trying to get all your tasks done as quickly as possible. Your fingertips were tingling with an urge for action and you tigered back and forth through your house.

There was one person in the village who was always out and about in such piss weather though. While the streets were empty, Sebastian took advantage of the solitude and went out for some fresh air.

I wonder if he went out to the beach in this storm?

But not even he was that crazy. Then you remembered that usually, when thunder and lightning came together to create a dance of chaos and destruction in the sky, he smoked a pack of cigarettes under a tree near the mountain lake. Yes. How very smart of him.

You threw a raincoat over your shoulders and hid your face deep inside the hood. Through the mud, you struggle up the hill and stumble past Robin's house. The warm light from the lamps inside shone through the glass of the windows and illuminated the path before you. You dared to take a peek inside.

There they sat around the table. Robin, Demitrius and Maru were all smiles and giggles. It was nothing new to see them without Sebastian, but it still filled you with a deep sadness. You were very much aware of how excluded he felt from his family and it never seemed like any of them were even attempting to try and close the gap between them.

Maru was an exception though. You have caught her several times staring at Sebastian during festivals as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to approach him. And of course you didn't miss how she calls him her brother while he always made sure to emphasize the word "half" when he referred to her as his half-sister.

You continued walking towards the lake and took shelter under the thick branches of a pine tree. Funny. This was actually Sebastian's quiet little spot when he contemplated the meaning of life while ruining his lungs. Sometimes you got the feeling that he was taking himself a little too seriously.

You turned on your own heels, your eyes searching for the all too familiar mop of black hair. After a few seconds, you spotted him on the complete opposite side and you fought your way through the wet dirt once again.

With only his hoodie as protection, he shielded his mouth with his hand as he desperately tried to keep the lighter's flame on. The wind combined with the rain was working successfully against the young man.

The way he flicked his thumb over the wheel of the lighter was frantic. That's when you noticed the deep crease between his dark eyebrows.

"Sebby?", you yelled over the rumble of the storm and he gave you a quick glance over his shoulder.

It was only a split second, but it was enough for you to know immediately that something was wrong with him. His eyes were darker than usual and it seemed as if the corners of his mouth had never pointed upwards once in his entire life.

You gently put your hand on his back and felt the tension in his muscles. Sighing, he lowered the lighter and put the cigarette back in the box. He was probably now aware that it was impossible to smoke in this shit weather.

Neither of you said a word for a long time. You knew that Sebastian sometimes took a while before he was ready to talk about his feelings when he was this down. While other people's moods hit rock bottom, he was the type to grab a shovel and dig the hole even deeper.

"I've come to terms with being the black sheep in my family. The mistake.", he said in a broken voice.

You nodded. Yes, that was usually the reason why he'd hide out here. He had confided in you a little later in your friendship that he had a difficult relationship with Demitrius and that was why he had kept his distance from Robin and Maru as well. However, only you and Sam knew about it and you had sworn to keep it to yourself.

Sebastian balled his hands into fists. His shoulders shook violently, as if he was crying, but not a single tear formed in his eyes. Afterwards it was as if a dam broke inside him and the words just came pouring out of him.

"Mom doesn't even seem to notice this shit or doesn't want to notice it! No matter what I do, it's not good enough for any of them, but Maru, on the other hand, could burn the whole fucking place down and they'd all just shrug with their shoulders."

Sebastian took a deep breath.

"But Yoba forbid I drop even a teaspoon! Demitrius is giving me a hard time while he rolls out the damn red carpet for his perfect little girl."

You reached for his hands and squeezed them comfortingly, a look of understanding on your face. He immediately relaxed and leaned his forehead against your shoulder, defeated.

"I hate everything.", he whispered into your neck. Your hair stood on end as his hot breath tickled your skin.

For a moment, you felt something like butterflies in your stomach and you silently scolded yourself. This really wasn't the time to think about your feelings for him. Not when he was in such a vulnerable state and needed a pillar.

"No, that's not true. You don't hate everything.", you said and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. When you said this, you were actually referring to Sam. His best friend.

But what Sebastian answered completely threw you for a loop and left you speechless.

"I don't hate you. Honestly, you're like a light in the darkness. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Heat rose to your face and you didn't know what to say. You decided the smartest move was to keep your mouth shut before you could fabricate something utterly embarrassing and then had to dig your own grave.

Sebastian touched your neck fleetingly with his lips. It made you shiver. Your body automatically inched closer to his. Your brain short-circuited and your instincts took over. Everything in you longed for him. You wanted more than just his mouth on your neck.

Images of his naked torso flashed past your inner eyes. Images of him slowly kissing his way down on you.

You gasped involuntarily and Sebastian turned towards your face. The distance between you was just big enough for a sheet of paper. For the first second, he just stared into your eyes. His expression was unreadable. Then the next second, his mouth crashed against yours in a heated kiss.

He kissed you like a diver catching his breath again after being submerged for far too long. He kissed you like a stranded man getting ahold of a glass of water for the first time in ages. Your body burned more with every passing moment.

"I want you. Please. I don't know if I can wait any longer." The pleading in his words was hard to ignore.

"Sebastian, you're not thinking clearly right now." Although part of you cursed yourself out for saying that, you were right. Sebastian was hurt. That's why he was acting like this now. It's not like he was genuinely interested in you.

He shook his head so violently that the rainwater in his hair flew around him.

"I've never thought as clearly in my life as I do now." To emphasize his words, he pressed another hungry kiss to your mouth.

Soon after, he grabbed you by the hand and together you ran through the storm towards the mines. It was chilly between the high stone walls, but the heat in your chest made it bearable.

Sebastian hastily pulled the hoodie over his head and spread it out on the ground. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks and he avoided your gaze.

"For you. I don't want to just take you on some dirty ground."

Granted, the mines weren't exactly the most romantic place for your first time together, but damn. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fantasized about sleeping with him outside the house at least once.

In fact, the idea had even plagued your dreams countless times. While you wrapped your arms around each other again, he carefully placed you on his sweater. Always making sure you didn't hit your head on the hard floor.

His soaked T-shirt stuck tightly to his torso and it took all four hands to somehow get it off. He looked so much better than you had imagined.

His warm hand found it's way under your own clothes and you felt a familiar warmth spread between your legs. The rest of your clothes were tossed carelessly into some dusty corner after a short while.

You arched your back to be as close to him as possible as he devoured you with his lips. His tongue playfully stroked your own and you rubbed your thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

Your mind raced and your heart pounded in your throat as the cave was filled with the sound of your gasps and moans. Then, finally, you felt Sebastian's finger at your entrance.

He slowly pushed in one. Shortly afterwards, the second followed and he moved them in a curling motion. After a few attempts, he found your g-spot and you threw your head back.

His hot breath hit your cheek as he showered your face with kisses. And as if he wasn't doing enough, he placed his thumb on your clit and massaged it in circles.

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and you saw nothing but stars. Where on earth had he learned these things?

But that was a question for another time. At that moment, it was simply impossible to grasp a clear thought. All you could focus on was Sebastian's fingers inside and on you.

Something in your stomach tightened in a pleasant way and you grabbed his face with both hands to pull him down for a kiss. You desperately tried to muffle your moans with his lips and tongue.

A short time later you came on his hand and your hips trembled. It took you quite a while to get off your high and when Sebastian pulled his fingers out of you, you winced. You were so sensitive that even the slightest touch made you jump.

A wide, proud grin spread across his handsome face as he looked at you. You didn't even want to begin to imagine what you looked like now, stretched out like a starfish and as sweaty as a marathon runner.

But there was nothing but affection in Sebastian's gaze. Affection and lust. His hard cock laid heavy on your stomach and your energy came rushing back to you.

You sit up and push him down onto his back. A surprised look formed on his features.

"What-", he started, but fell silent as you reached for his dick.

It was wide and veiny. Your wetness ran down the inside of your thigh and dripped onto his stomach. Precum leaked out of his tip and you leaned down to lick it up.

He let out a whimper. As you moved your hand slowly up and down his shaft, you positioned yourself over him and took the entire length in. He filled you to the brim and stretched you in a way that both hurt and felt wonderful.

Sebastian whimpered and gasped. He tensed up and looked like he was going through the fight of his life right now.

"Give me a second. Don't move or I'll-", he pleaded and grunted before he could finish his sentence.

Pride filled your chest. You had no idea about the effect you had on his man, but now you see it in it's whole glory. How hot and bothered he was and how much he was struggling to not come right then and there.

After what felt like an eternity, you started to move your hips up and down to test the waters. Everything inside you wanted to go faster, to ride this man until he was a screaming mess, but you felt merciful.

Then something inside Sebastian clicked and he grabbed you by the hips as he drilled into you. The wet slapping of skin against skin echoed off the high walls of the cave as he fucked you senseless.

Once again, you could think of nothing but Sebastian. You braced yourself against his torso with one hand while you frantically rubbed your clit with the other. You wanted to come with him.

His movements became sloppier and his eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. He was so close and so were you. A wave of ecstasy crashed over your whole body and moments later his cock twitched violently inside of you. A warm liquid was filling you up to the point where you even moaned from the slight pressure.

For a brief moment you thought it would never end until his dick finally came to a complete rest. Sebastian, who looked like he had seen Yoba with his on two eyes just now, slid out of you.

You made yourself comfortable next to him on his hoodje while he wrapped his arms around you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I don't know why we didn't do this before.", he commented.

"When should we have done it? When I first introduced myself or what?"

"That would actually be a fantastic first impression."

You give him a slap on the chest, but he just laughs. You two lay there for a long time, listening to the falling raindrops.

"It's a good thing we did it in this thunderstorm. The adventurers and maybe even Linus would have heard us," he remarked.

"Oh my Yoba. You're right."

What escaped you, however, was the fact that a (now very traumatized) dwarf had his store only a few meters away from you guys.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley smut #sdv smut #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader

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misswynters · 2 months ago

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Buddy, the snowman

featuring. s2 jayce x reader

a/n. i want everyone to picture s2 long haired jayce for this (my lil hispanic boy)

Piltover in winter was a different kind of magic. The city’s usual bustle slowed as the snow draped over rooftops, blanketed the cobbled streets, and softened the sharp edges of its mechanical marvels. The air was crisp, filled with the faint scent of pine, and for once, it seemed as if even the gears of progress paused to appreciate the quiet beauty of the holiday season.

You stood on the edge of the park, bundled in a thick coat, scarf, and gloves, waiting for Jayce. Who is always late, as usual. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you shifted your weight, your breath visible in the cold air. When he finally arrived, he was juggling a small box of cookies he’d picked up on the way, a thermos of hot cocoa, and his scarf, which he hadn’t managed to wrap around his neck yet.

“Sorry I’m late,” he called out, flashing you a sheepish grin. “I got held up by Mrs. Halloway. She wanted to tell me all about her snowflake shaped cookie cutters.”

You laughed, reaching out to grab the thermos before it slipped from his hands. “Let me guess, you were too polite to escape?”

“She cornered me at the shop,” he admitted, his breath clouding in the air as he finally wrestled the scarf into place. “But hey, I brought cookies!”

“Then all is forgiven,” you teased, linking your arm with his as you walked into the park.

The snow was untouched, sparkling under the late morning sun. Children’s laughter echoed from the far side of the park where a sledding hill was busy with activity. You and Jayce gravitated toward a quieter spot, where the snow lay pristine and the trees offered some shelter from the wind. “I can’t remember the last time I built a snowman,” you mused, surveying the scene.

“Then we’re fixing that today,” Jayce declared, already kneeling to scoop up a handful of snow. He packed it tightly, forming the beginnings of a snowball. “You start the bottom, I’ll handle the head.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You trust me with the foundation?”

“Of course. You’re the architect here, aren’t you?” he teased, his grin warm and inviting.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you got to work. The snow was perfect, soft enough to mold but firm enough to hold its shape. You began rolling the snowball across the ground, watching it grow larger and larger. Meanwhile, Jayce fashioned the middle and top sections, his gloved hands moving with practiced ease.

“Hey,” he called out after a while, his voice tinged with amusement. “Is this snowman going to rival the height of the council tower? Because it’s looking like you’re aiming for a structural masterpiece.”

You stepped back, admiring your work. The base was enormous, almost up to your waist. “Bigger is better ,” you retorted with a grin, dusting the snow off your gloves. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”

Jayce chuckled, hoisting the midsection of the snowman in his arms. “Fair point. But if this guy topples over, I’m blaming the architect.”

You laughed as he carefully balanced the second snowball on top of the base. “You’re not exactly the most careful engineer I know, Jayce. Remember that time you accidentally launched yourself across the workshop?”

“That was one time!” he shot back, laughing as he adjusted the snowball until it was perfectly centered. “And I still say it was an unintended success.”

“You’re lucky I was there to catch you,” you teased, rolling up the final snowball for the head. Jayce stepped aside to help you lift it, his hands brushing against yours as you both placed it on top. The snowman took shape quickly, its proportions absurdly exaggerated but undeniably charming. Jayce pulled a handful of random gadgets and bolts from his pocket, because of course he carried those everywhere, and started sticking them into the snowman’s torso.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching in disbelief as he carefully attached a cogwheel where a button might go.

“Improving him,” Jayce said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Every snowman deserves a touch of innovation.”

You snorted. “This is why you can’t leave well enough alone.”

“I prefer to think of it as creativity,” he said, leaning back to admire his work. “What do you think? Too much?” The snowman now looked like a combination between a friendly holiday figure and an early prototype from Jayce’s workshop. His scarf draped around its neck (stolen from Jayce’s coat), the twig arms were bent at jaunty angles, and the “buttons” were a mismatched collection of gears and screws.

“It’s… unique to say the least,” you said, stifling a laugh. “But he needs a name. How about… Buddy?”

Jayce grinned. “I like it. He’s definitely our buddy now.”

The two of you stood back, admiring your creation. The late morning sun glinted off the snow. But then, out of nowhere, a snowball hit you square in the shoulder. “Jayce!” you yelped, spinning around to see him grinning mischievously, another snowball already in his hand.

“Consider it a christening for Buddy,” he said with a wink, launching the second snowball toward you.

You dodged, laughing, and scooped up some snow of your own. “Oh, you’re going to regret that!” The next few minutes devolved into a chaotic snowball fight. You darted behind trees, narrowly avoiding Jayce’s throws while lobbing your own with surprising accuracy. He wasn’t as agile as you, but his aim was scarily good, and more than once you ended up covered in snow.

When you finally called a truce, you were both breathless and laughing, your cheeks pink from the cold and exertion. Jayce flopped onto the snow, spreading his arms and legs to make a snow angel.

“Not bad,” he said between breaths. “But I think I won.”

“You wish,” you said, collapsing beside him. “I hit you way more times than you hit me.”

“Debatable,” he replied, turning his head to look at you. His brown eyes sparkled with warmth, and his smile was softer now, less mischievous. The two of you lay there in the snow, staring up at the pale blue sky. The world felt quiet, the only sounds the distant laughter of children and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.

“Thanks for dragging me out here,” Jayce said after a while. “I needed this.”

You turned your head to face him, your breath visible in the cold air. “Me too. It’s nice to just... be for a while. No council meetings, experiments, or deadlines.”

“Just you, me, and our little Buddy,” he said with a chuckle, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. You felt your cheeks grow warmer, though whether it was from the cold or something else, you weren’t sure. “And the cookies,” you reminded him, sitting up and reaching for the box he’d brought.

Jayce sat up too, brushing snow from his coat. “Right. Can’t forget about the cookies.” The two of you sat together, sharing cookies and sipping hot cocoa from the thermos. Buddy stood proudly nearby, a testament to your combined (if slightly chaotic) efforts. Pulling off your gloves, cradling the thermos in your hands. The warmth seeped through your fingers as you took a sip, the rich, sweet cocoa melting the chill in your bones. Jayce opened the box of cookies, offering you one before taking one for himself.

"These are so good,” you said, savoring the buttery sweetness.

“Told you Mrs. Halloway knows her stuff,” Jayce replied, his grin boyish as he took a large bite. “Snowball fights and cookies. Best day off ever.”

You leaned back, watching Buddy stand proudly in the distance. “I think we outdid ourselves with that snowman,” you said.

Jayce glanced at it, a playful smile on his face. “He’s definitely got personality. Though next year, I’m thinking we add some light-up features. Maybe a mini hammer.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course you are. But fine, as long as I get to handle the design.”

“Deal,” he said, raising his cookie like a toast.

As the two of you sat there, sharing cookies and warm drinks, the soft glow of the setting sun painted the snow in shades of gold and pink. It was a rare, perfect moment of peace, one you knew you’d carry with you through the busier days ahead. And in the quiet of the winter evening, with Jayce’s laughter still echoing in your ears, you realized this was what you loved most about him: his ability to make even the simplest moments unforgettable.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Jayce pulled his scarf from the snowman and wrapped it around your shoulders instead.

“You’re going to freeze,” you protested, but he shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’re the one who dragged me out here, so it’s only fair that I make sure you stay warm.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, leaning into his side as he slung an arm around you. “Same time next year?” he asked, his tone light but hopeful.

“Maybe, as long as you aren't late.” you agreed, smiling as you watched the last light of day fade behind the snow-covered trees.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @writingwisterias

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luveline · 2 years ago

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𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part one | part two | part three

You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating. Eddie goes home, you’re on tour, and the lines between you both continue to blur.

fem!reader, enemies-to-lovers, rival rockstars, mutual pining, kisses! tender neck kisses <3, past miscommunication, angst, hurt-comfort, sexual tension, TW mentioned recreational drug use, drinking, smoking, swearing

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Hawkins, Indiana, December 1990

Eddie listens to his walkman until it runs out of juice. Through the flight from California to Indianapolis, the hours-long bus ride that stops just short of Hawkins, and the final connecting bus on the outskirts. Some metalheads listen to strictly metal, but Eddie likes variety occasionally. Plus, he doesn’t think it’s possible to have ears and not love The Rolling Stones’ Some Girls.

He has one girl on his mind the entire journey home. He tries not to think about you. He makes himself sick shoving you down into a crevice of his heart, so he admits defeat. His fingers twitch, eager to write about you. He has some lyrics in mind. Evil wretched girl with wicked sweet hands. Heart eater. Soft around the edges.

He wants to write about your stupid chubby thighs and how they look in skirts. He wants to write about your wrists, your knees and their ever-present bruises. Metaphors for your sickly sweetness won’t stick; cruel becomes kind. Taunting turns teasing.

It feels like it’s eating him alive, spine first. You’re gnawing on his ribs as he hikes the half a mile from the bus stop into Forest Hills trailer park. He can feel your thumb rubbing makeup off of his cheek as he drags his suitcase up the metal steps to Wayne’s —Eddie’s— front door.

“Wayne?” he calls. It’s pitch fucking dark. He’s surprised he got all the way here without falling in some ditch. “Could you let me in? It’s freezing.”

He hears stirring from inside. He calls out again in case his uncle changes his mind. “Wayne, it’s me. I’m sorry it’s late. Please don’t leave me out here.”

He’s joking. Wayne would sooner shoot Eddie dead than put him in harm's way. He’s always been that kind of parent, hiding his deep rooted worry underneath a feigned reluctance. Footsteps shuffle and floorboards creak. The door opens between them, and Eddie shoves his suitcase and backpack inside without properly looking at his old man.

“Eddie, what the fuck, kid?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking up. Wayne’s squinting at him. He’s wearing jeans with deep creases. He must’ve been sleeping in them. “I timed it all wrong. Started coming home and I didn’t think about it. I walked here, you know that?”

Wayne hugs him. Eddie isn’t expecting it. It’s not like Wayne isn’t affectionate, he doles out shoulder claps and hair ruffles like candy, but their hugs are usually one-armed back-slapping affairs. This is a loose encircling with a scratchy cheek against Eddie’s forehead.

“I’ve been worrying about you.”

Guilt sinks like a stone to the bottom of his stomach. Eddie kind of feels like he might puke. He wraps his arms around his uncle and breathes in his smell. Diesel and grease, sure, but so much louder than that is his mint and rosemary soap.

The weight of Wayne’s arms over Eddie’s shoulders is one of his favourite feelings. He hadn’t realised how much he missed it, but then… maybe he had.

He wants to tell Wayne there’s no need to worry, but he’s never been good at lying to him. “Think I might have fallen off the wagon, Wayne.”

“Well. Happens to all of us.” He pats Eddie’s back and steps away. He doesn’t look any older than the last time Eddie saw him. In fact, he looks good. Puffy-eyed but healthy. “I thought for sure I’d have to come track you down and drag you back for Christmas myself.”

Eddie locks the door and Wayne shuffles into the kitchen promising coffee and cake. He should protest, tell Wayne he can go back to bed and they’ll catch up in the morning, but he missed the small stuff like this, when he’d get home late from band practice or a midnight premiere of a sci-fi flick and his uncle would be sitting up waiting.

Eddie loves being home. There’s something to be said about living like the rich —he loves all the high ceilings and endless cushy carpeting— but nothing feels as good as coming home. His room is exactly how he left it minus a few ashtrays and his super unsecret pot stash. The poster wallpaper and the cheap paint. His raggedy bedspread and the corners tucked in haphazardly by tired hands. Eddie resists the want to dive under the covers and slide into the dip in his mattress. He knows every box spring in that fucker, and he missed it.

Eddie drops his bags at the end of the bed. All the clothes in his suitcase smell like Coors Light, so he changes into rags he left behind, a too-big pair of plaid pyjamas that slip down his hips and a sleeveless Motörhead shirt. Maybe. The emblem is worn to nothing but black lines.

He follows the smell of coffee through the hallway and into the Munson kitchen, tightening the drawstrings of his pants as he goes, chin tucked to his chest. “I’m losing weight, Wayne, I’m like a fucking twig.”

“Don’t tell me that shit. God knows I taught you how to take care of yourself.”

“I’m stupid. I’m really stupid, actually.”

Wayne whacks the coffee maker. It whirs. “Pick a mug, son.”

“You been cleaning? I don’t wanna look down and see a spider in my cup.”

“Have you been cleaning?” Wayne asks.

“It’s insane how much I haven’t been cleaning.”

“Some things don’t change.”

“You fucker,” Eddie says, laughing up a storm as he picks out his favourite mug, the Garfield one with a big scratch down the left side.

“You fucker,” Wayne snaps back. “I should send you packing for the bad language alone.”

“They don’t make you clean your hotel rooms, Wayne, that’s the point of them.”

“I raised you better than that.”

“You did. I keep it classy, I swear, I just,” —Eddie sits down in his chair, watching Wayne stir in milk and sugar just the way he likes it, and feels more than sees as a familiar contentedness like a Gaussian film settles over their easy conversation— “don’t clean up after Gareth. He’s a monster.”

“Do me a favour, Eds. Try and be the best you can be, alright?”

He swallows. He purses his lips. A peculiar lump grows in his throat, but he bites it back and squares himself up. “Yeah. I will.” He thinks about all the parties and powders and girls. He’s never done any cruel shit to anybody and he’s a sweetheart with the ladies, but there are times when he’d known he was lying before he even said he’d call. He thinks about some of the shit he’s said to you and has to wipe his sweaty palms off on his shirt.

“I know we didn’t have shit when you were growing up,” Wayne says, not tearful or resentful, just honest as he passes Eddie his mug of coffee and sits down. “And all that money must feel good–”

“It’s not like that,” Eddie says.

“When I see my nephew on TV smashing up equipment worth more than his house–”

“I already told you on the phone it was an accident. And it wouldn’t be worth more than this if you actually cashed the cheques I send you. I know they aren’t bouncing.”

“I don’t want your money, Eddie,” Wayne says gently. It’s odd but not uncommon to hear him speak in such dulcet tones. “That’s not what I raised you for.”

“I know, you–” He cuts his insult off at the stem and scratches his head instead.

Eddie isn’t hankering for a tongue lashing tonight and his scalp is too itchy to focus. He hasn’t washed his hair in a week. It’s obvious just looking at him, curls weighed down and straightened out from the sheer grossness of it. “Shit, I’m disgusting,” he says.

“You’re gross,” Wayne agrees. “I’ll cash a cheque when the bank opens and get you a bottle of degreaser.”

Eddie hides his smile with a long sip of coffee. It’s hot and awful, ‘cause no matter how much love Wayne puts into it, dollar store coffee tastes like burnt grounds from the get go. Eddie missed it more than anything. Sometimes he’s in the back of the queasy tour bus or lying on the floor in his hotel room coming down off of something risky and all he can think about is Wayne’s coffee.

Wayne has a hard and fast rule about drugs: if it isn’t green, I don’t want you touching it. Eddie still remembers the gasket he blew when he found that little baggy of red and white pills shoved inside an altoids tin. He can’t imagine telling his uncle what he really meant when he said he fell off the wagon.

Hey, Uncle Wayne, I have this weird love-hate relationship with a girl I don’t really know, and I got caught up doing party drugs (unrelated to our relationship) until I got so high I blacked out, and when I woke up she was there and she was looking at me like you look at a bird with a broken wing, you know? Anyway, the memory of her face won’t leave me alone. It makes me feel like crying. So I haven’t touched anything in two weeks and I thought coming home for Christmas would make up for all the secrets I’m keeping, but now—

Now Eddie doesn’t know what he was thinking. He can’t tell Wayne any of that shit. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

Wayne would ask something like, It took a girl for you to realise drugs are bad news? And Eddie would say back, No, that’s not it, it wasn’t just her.

“I’m sooooo fucked,” Eddie says slowly, mildly, scrubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He drags his hands down his face and blinks against the burning he’s left in his wake.

“You’re not fucked, kid. Lemme cut you a slice of cake.”

Wayne cuts him a slice of cranberry coffee cake and Eddie eats it in two bites. Wayne makes him a burger after that. He doesn’t know what time it is, if it’s closer to night or morning, but Wayne doesn’t mention it until the burger’s gone and an alarm clock is ringing. Eddie watches his uncle truck into the living room and feels crestfallen though he doesn’t deserve to. Eddie hasn’t been home in months. He imagines Wayne alone at the kitchen table with an empty greasy plate waiting on him and wants to cry again.

Wayne returns in coveralls. He gets a good look at Eddie’s face and sighs, dropping a heavy hand into Eddie’s dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” Wayne says.

I’m sorry, Eddie thinks. For being a bad kid.

He’d said that once. Wayne was sweeping up a smashed plate after a long shift and Eddie, thirteen and defeated with an ache where his mom should’ve been, had been trying to apologise. It had felt so crushing, that broken plate. The last straw. He’d had tears running down his pale cheeks, his hands in his hoodie pocket desperately grabbing at one another.

And when he’d said it, Wayne had just looked at him. On his knees with a brush, glass shards shining on the linoleum between them.

You think you’re a bad kid?

Wayne isn’t old and he definitely hadn’t been back then. Thirty something with a crying teenager and what felt like all the world's self-loathing crammed into a tiny kitchen. Eddie’s older now, and he knows how much Wayne gave up for him. Not just his bedroom, which had been relinquished with little more than a shoulder squeeze and five dollars for posters, but a life. Wayne could’ve done anything. Could’ve been a rockstar.

I ruin everything, he’d said. Teenage angst, maybe, but Eddie felt it in his bones.

You ain’t ruined anything.

He hadn’t known what to say so he’d cried, waiting for that nice heavy hand that tussles his hair and pats his back to finally strike out.

Eds, you’re not a bad kid. Said so quietly. With a steadiness that meant truth. You’re my kid. Could I make a bad kid?

And yeah, there had been a threshold of sincerity and they were passing it. It was the late 70’s. Boys really didn’t cry. At least, not in public. So Eddie wiped his snotty nose in his sleeve and laughed, and then he got on his knees to clean up.

“Try and sleep,” Wayne says now, older but unchanged otherwise. Still ridiculously forgiving of his not-so-young sprog. He looks at Eddie with his lips pressed together. Eddie wonders if he’s going to hug him again, but Wayne shakes his head. “Shower, you animal. I’ll be back early.”

Eddie sleeps. He showers. He washes his hair three times and doesn’t use conditioner so his curls don’t really curl but it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. He had a moment in the shower where he swore he remembered something you said to him when he was blackout on sniff cut with procaine and booze. Your voice tentative, the heat of your hand on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

He moans into his damp hands, limp hair hanging either side of his head and dripping into his pyjama pants. He can’t forgive his younger self for all the sleeveless shirts, not when Hawkins feels colder than the arctic circle and the window seal in the kitchen has been leaky for the last five years.

He thinks about going shopping, because no matter what Wayne says about degreaser, Eddie’s starting to realise that his uncle won’t be cashing any of the cheques he sent home, and if he wants Wayne taken care of he’s gonna have to do this shit himself, but he doesn’t know where his key is.

“I’m a fuck up,” he says, catching his eye in the mirror as he straightens out.

His reflection frowns at him.

He did manage to get Wayne some shit from California before he came home; a real brown leather jacket from the 60s with minimal wear, though if Wayne wears it is another thing entirely; a Roy Orbinson record that’s miraculously unwarped despite Eddie’s poor packing; more sweatshirts than his uncle could ever wear through. Eddie knows he’ll try.

There’s some other stuff. CD’s and a nice edition of War of the World’s. Whatever he could stuff in his backpack.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” you’d asked him.

He sat on the bottom step of a huge staircase and you the one above him. People walked around you without notice. Two rocks in a stream bed.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? You aren’t sure?”

He’d got stuck looking at your cheek, the soft curve of it and the highest point, where light like a small star had kissed you and turned his stomach, that’s how sick with envy he was.

“I get it,” you’d said, “things at home aren’t always easy.”

“Not that. My Uncle Wayne is my hero.”

“And you still don’t wanna go home?” you’d asked gently.

“It’s not about what I want.” He remembers this part in detail. He’d stopped looking at you, laying back against the stairs, each step digging into his back. The ceiling had been far away.

You’d inched into his frame of view, looking down at him with an expression unreadable to his mixed up head. You weren't quite smiling. He still isn’t sure what it meant.

“It is. That’s the whole point,” you’d said.

Eddie’s all memory this morning. The ones with Wayne had felt less memory and more story, because memory is unfaithful, and over time we start to break down on the details, putting want in place of fact. But your face hovering above his as the soft strands of your hair ghost against his jaw, all your glitters and the shiny pink sheen on your lips, that’s closer. He remembers how you smelled, and how your tongue peeked out to wet your lips uselessly between words.

Jet lag and the general feeling of you keeps him lethargic, but he cleans the house (and he’s always said house, even if some people don’t agree, it houses him, fuck you Jenny P from eighth grade grade) and makes dinner ready for Wayne when he gets home. He puts the radio on and tunes into Roller FM. When one of Godless’ songs comes on, he’s not surprised. He listens with his head lolled against the kitchen wall, eyes closed, and tries not to think about your fingers choking the neck of your bass guitar.

—

Indy Rock Centre, Indianapolis, January 1991

Whoever arranged the tour is a sadist. You can’t believe that a team of professionals sat around a long glossy table with their coffee cups and finger foods and thought, yeah, that will work. You feel like you’re being fucking yo-yo’d between states.

When you’d joined godless as a stand in for Millyanna, your dates had been plentiful but never as disorganised. Nothing compares to this shit. You wonder if going crazy is a sign of making it big, or if maybe you’re not cut out for all of this after all.

Jan 22, Kalamazoo, Missouri. Jan 23, Toledo, Ohio. Jan 25, Los Angeles, California. Jan 26, Philadelphia; Jan 28, Indiana, Jan 29, Wisconsin. February? Back in Missouri, back in Ohio, a couple more state dates and then bam — Canada. Don’t worry though, after a week in Canada, you’ll never guess where you’re playing.

Fucking Florida.

At least you aren’t alone in your torture. For starters, there’s Morgan, your singer, and Ananya, your drummer, who will also endure and suffer. Then there’s the roadies, the techies and the groupies. The opening acts. The managers, the assistants, the personal assistants, the boyfriends and girlfriends and wives and mistresses.

And what’s more, you're one of the hundreds of bands touring in North America this year. Maybe thousands. You certainly aren’t the first musician to have to suck it up and tough it out.

Still, you like to complain.

It’s your right, for dealing with Morgan. And also— you aren’t getting paid for the tour until after the tour is over, so really complaining is the wealth of the soul. You do get a weekly allowance, which is awesome and not something you were getting beforehand, working instead on an invoice. You’d play a show, you’d get paid for the show. This time you’re getting a flat rate at the end of the tour that’s been contractually agreed upon. It’s more money than you’ll ever know what to do with. One of the more shameful ways you waste time in your little bus bunk is trying to figure out where to put it.

I want a house, you think. A mortgage on a small, pretty house where the weather isn't too hot or too cold. And a puppy. Probably. Maybe a fish tank. I want a bed that spans from one wall to another and…

You wince. For a moment, you’d seen something stupid, a pale face hidden in the pillow across the way.

Two puppies, you think forcefully.

You’ve played four shows already this week. You have one tonight in Indy Rock Centre, and another tomorrow in Wisconsin. You got to stay in the warm, non-vibrating luxury of a hotel room last night, but tonight you have to play the show and get straight back on the bus.

“You’re gonna glare holes in her. What did she do?”

You stop your mindless staring and come back down to earth. Ananya’s smiling at you, thick eyebrows lifted in wait for your answering gossip. You’d been staring at Morgan where she’s sitting across the room in a plush armchair, cucumbers over her eyes and swarmed by makeup artists and hairstylists with a pedicurist at her feet.

Ananya does all her make up herself. You want to ask her to do yours, but you worry her messy sweetness won’t suit you. She overlines her already big lips with a sticky red-pink, giving her an effect of having just been kissed (a lot), and rings brown eyes with a slick black kohl.

“She hasn’t done anything. Yet. Today.”

“She has been a monster, hasn’t she?” she asks, sinking down into the couch with a sigh. She flicks her hair over her shoulder. Her curls are so healthy they bounce.

You hum your agreement and slide down with her. Touring again, Ananya has remembered how much it sucks to be alone without allies. Morgan gets especially volatile from the stress and close quarters. She’s nicer when you’re alone.

She’ll still ditch you at a moment's notice, but you get it. It’s like high school.

You miss Dornie.

It’s cruel to make a friend and suddenly lose them. You can’t help thinking he won’t want to be your friend again the next time you see him. It had been so nice… so peaceful, to know there was someone in your corner. Dornie doesn’t care how famous you are or how much money you’re making. He just wanted to make sure you got home safe and talk about old movies.

“I’m gonna go find something to drink,” you say.

Ananya nods. “Bring me back a coke?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan stops you on your way out with a foot in front of your legs. “Hey, killer, I gave one of your passes to a fan earlier. Is that cool?”

“Morgan, when have you ever cared about my opinion?”

“Ooh, meow,” she croons, taking a cucumber from her eye to squint at you. “What’s the matter, baby? I figured you weren’t using them.”

You smile at her. You can’t help yourself. She stopped hurting your feelings a long time ago. “You want a drink from the machine?”

“Sparkling water, serf.”

If you smudge her nail polish on the way past it isn’t your fault. It isn’t cool with you that she’s given away one of your passes, even though you ask your general manager Angel to give them out at the beginning of the show every night. It’s presumptuous! Normal people don’t do stuff like that without asking.

Serf…

Your nose wrinkles. The dressing room door closes at your back and you take a moment to recall where you’d seen the bank of vending machines in the maze of white hallways. Indy Rock Centre is one of the biggest venues in Indianapolis, and you’ve been here before countless times on the other side to see Black Sabbath, Metallica, The Stacey’s, Doorway to Cooperstown. It’s where all the biggest and best get to play. You wish they’d given you a map.

You can still walk around without getting recognised. You’re not a superstar, just a guitarist. You smile at people who smile at you and avoid the rest, dodging past black polo shorts wheeling equipment and busybody higher ups barking orders. Someone stands in a corner talking on a brick of a handheld phone. You stare at him for a bit. You’ll never get used to it, phones without wires. Next there’ll be TVs without satellites and electric guitars without amps.

The vending machine shines like a red beacon at the end of the hallway. You hurry to it, feeding the machine your crumpled per diem one dollar at a time. You get a coke for Ananya, sparkling water for Morgan. When it gets to your own drink, the machine starts to revolt. It spits your dollar out unsympathetically. You pull it from the mouth and flatten it against your thigh.

It doesn’t work again. You nibble your bottom lip. Dollar pulled taut between your two hands, you lift your knee and rub it against your stockings.

“Fucking fuck,” you whisper, watching in mild horror as the machine accepts and then rejects your dollar for a third time.

You tuck it back into your purse, a pretty leather thing that clasps shut and fits perfectly in the small pocket of your jacket. It’s your luck, but whatever. They’ll probably bring a couple of bottles of water to the dressing room in a bit. Maybe even a cocktail bar.

“Hey.”

Your internal monologue chokes. You question your senses for the split second it takes you to meet his eyes — baby browns, soft and flush with gorgeously long lashes. If there’s one thing about Eddie Munson, it’s that he has very sweet eyes. Not the kind you can replicate in daydreams.

He’s dressed like a bitch. You’re so sick of him. He has his jacket tied around his waist and his shirt has no sleeves, the alarmingly shapely stretch of his arms on full display. Black ink climbs the hills and ridges of his stark veins, his herd of bats jumping as he offers you a dollar.

You take it. You aren’t sure what to say, so you bask in the almost-silence, every nerve aflame as you feed the vending machine and click the button for your drink. Equipment cages rattle. Radios chirp. Your drink thinks from behind the red Coca Cola panel down into the bottom of the machine for collection.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask finally, squatting to grab your drink.

You stand, train your eyes on the floor, shove your drink under your arm, and crack open your purse to give him your defective dollar in exchange. He takes it without fanfare.

“Are you busy?” he asks.

Regrettably, no. The majority of soundcheck is done, and the show doesn’t start for hours. He gestures to the left and you follow, stupidly, with no idea where he’s leading you to and not a clue what he wants, leaving Morgan and Ananya’s drinks for whoever finds them. Eddie’s jeans aren’t as loose on his hips as they were the last time you saw him. His distracting arms are bigger, biceps like a taunt as he holds a door open for you. You take a breath as you pass him, but he doesn’t smell like anything. No sweat or cologne, no cigarette smoke.

“Is it mean if I say you look good with clean hair?” you ask, squinting in the sudden brightness.

He’s led you outside to the back of the venue. Your tour bus stands imposing at the end of the lot, surrounded by Godless branded vans and fancy cars. A truck beeps as it loads into the receiving area backward.

“Probably.”

“You do, though. Look good.”

“So people tell me.”

Fuck, you think. Fuck it. If he’s gonna be weird about it then you’re pulling the olive branch back in and snapping it in half.

The sky is white as snow. It hurts to look at, the sun like a steaming egg yolk covered in its own whites, thick clouds shielding her warmth. You pull the sides of your jacket together and button up, uninterested in catching a cold when the next six months of your life are planned down to the hour. Eddie puts his jacket on and zips it tight.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks.

“Why?”

He pushes his hands into his pockets. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he felt self conscious. “Why not?” he asks.

You nod. You and Eddie aren’t friends, but you aren’t not friends, either. You’re being cold because you’re seized with embarrassment, not because he deserves it. You have memories of his hand on your cheek, and a cherry stem between his teeth, and you don’t know what you said exactly but you know it hadn’t been amicable small talk. You hate him for knowing stuff about you that you’d wanted to keep secret, and you hate yourself more for telling him in the first place.

“I came home for Christmas. I’m back in Los Angeles tomorrow night.”

“That’s convenient,” you say.

“Just had to see you before I went,” he agrees. Deadpan humour is terrifying on him.

He ducks under a low tree branch and holds it away from your face. Together, you begin to walk down the street and into the city, over patched sidewalks and past brand new stores. The mom and pop shops of your childhood are mostly gone.

Conversations between you two have this odd oscillation between over familiarity and stilted nothings. You like over familiarity better, when you’re both prone to misunderstandings. You’d take snipping at one another over this strange quiet.

“Is it nice? Being home?” he asks finally.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’ve been here for what, a month now? I just got here, and it wasn’t to see the ‘rents.”

Eddie lifts his chin to the sky a touch. Molasses of sunlight seep through the clouds now, racing to caress his waved hair and high cheekbones. “It’s been awesome,” he says, his eyes closed. His voice like tree bark, uneven but tough. “Makes me wonder what I liked about L.A. so much.”

“All the free stuff,” you offer. “And free girls.”

“The girls aren’t free,” he protests.

“You aren’t getting free girls?” you ask.

“Are you?”

“Would that bother you?”

Close-lipped, his tongue pokes the skin under his bottom lip.

“You think stuff like that bothers me?” he asks.

“It bothers some people.”

Eddie isn’t meeting your eyes consistently, but you don’t think he’s lying when he says, “No, it wouldn’t bother me. But my Uncle Wayne would fucking kill me if he heard me agree that the women are free.”

“How progressive.”

He visually bites back a laugh. He looks up from his shoes and sees you smiling and it breaks him, his laugh sputtering out in bits and pieces. “Shit, I’m just trying to be an okay person.”

You concede, “Fine, the girls aren’t free. They’re just very happy to sleep with you for very little reward.”

“Some might say the reward was, you know, pleasure–”

“Ew–”

“Don’t be childish. What did you want me to say? The reward is a long night of rough and tumble fucking–”

“I liked pleasure better,” you interject. You dance around a huge crack in the sidewalk and pause as you and Eddie reach a crossing. “All night? Really?”

“Want me to prove it?”

“I don’t think you could, Munson.”

“I could…” He rests his hand between your shoulder blades. “But I don’t think we’re there yet.”

He encourages you to cross the street, weaving and winding between parked cars, moving cyclists, and a small family bulldozing passers-bys with a twin stroller. When you’ve crossed to the other side uninjured, his hand falls away. The heat of his palm lingers.

“Good observation.”

“You’re sarcastic today. Or is being on the road making you cranky?”

“Being on the road is definitely making me cranky. It fucking sucks, I forgot how badly it sucks, and I don’t get paid day to day like I used to.”

“Oh, you’re getting a flat rate now? Go you, superstar.” Your walk is more of a crawl, the two of you turned to the left side of the street where children shriek and giggle in the outdoor seating of a restaurant. Eddie stops. “How’s the allowance?”

“You get one of those too?”

Eddie bumps his elbow into yours. “We’re kids. They know it. It’s pretty shitty considering how much money they make off of us in the end, but that’s an asshole thing to say, right? We’re lucky.”

You roll your shoulders. He’s more than right. Coming from nothing, a small town, with no college degree and no rich parents to float you, Eddie’s right. You might have talent and you might work hard but so do a lot of other people, and you’re here, and they’re working for minimum wage back home still hoping.

You wish every kid like you could get to where you are, but they won’t. You’re more than lucky. You should buy a scratcher.

“We’re fucking lucky,” Eddie says slowly. “And it’s awful anyways.” He grins. “Come to dinner with me?”

You blink. “What?”

“Dinner? I’ve been there before,” —he points to the restaurant you’d stopped across from— “and it’s nice.”

You’re insane and you agree. It’s not too fancy to feel like you’re on a date from the outside, and once you’re indoors you feel relaxed. With a glass of cider in your hands you feel positively giddy.

Eddie slouches back into a velvet booth seat that might’ve once been red. He keeps the jacket on and you’re grateful for it, lest you see his stupid nice arms and turn ditzy. His nose twitches as looks out over the restaurant floor toward the kitchen visible through a long window. It’s warm but not stuffy in here, the air fragrant with browning butter and minced garlic.

The menus are sticky. You pretend to pour over one, not knowing what to say to break the silence.

“I know I said you were being sarcastic,” Eddie says, “but I think I meant quiet. Even when you sound annoyed, I can barely hear you.”

“That’s dramatic,” you murmur, proving his point.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Well, in what way?”

“What way feels wrong to you?” he asks.

Trapped. You sip your cold cider. He raps his knuckles against the table. “Come on, what have you got to lose? What did you say to me before?” His eyes soften. “Nobody would believe me if I told them.”

You tap your glass with your thumbnail.

“I’m okay,” you say honestly. “Most of the time, I feel fine. Or, I forget what’s wrong.”

Eddie flicks his own glass. “Is this about feeling like nothing?”

“I don’t know why I told you that.”

“I have one of those faces.”

“And you were feeding me booze.”

“Don’t say that. You make it sound so shitty.”

“It wasn’t shitty,” you say. “Free drinks, right? What’s shitty about letting a pretty guy pay for you?”

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

You kick him under the table. You don’t know what comes over you, shy at your own honesty and irritated with his ridiculousness. I let you kiss me, you want to say. I’d let you do worse. Of course I think you’re pretty. You aren’t cruel — it’s more of a shove with the toe of your shoe. Eddie laughs through a gasp and kicks you back, heel of his converse flat to your calf.

“You fucking–”

“Sweetheart?” he finishes.

“No, fuck you. You string me around with your hot and cold act and now you’re coming to my shows taking me to dinner,” —your voice stiffens, thickens, as you glare at him from across the table— “asking me how I’m doing? And I’m the one who has to explain themselves? You tell me, Munson. Do I think that you’re pretty?”

Eddie’s sort of frozen, like a laugh got stuck in his throat and he really is surprised by your sudden anger. You might feel surprised yourself if you had the wherewithal. As it stands, your irritation and your want for an answer is too much.

He hits the toe of his shoe into yours. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry. I’m not… trying to string you around.”

He doesn’t say anything else. You deflate, ashamed of your sudden outburst. Tired of all the games.

“I think you’re pretty,” he says.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

The food arrives and saves him. You want him to explain —you want him to expand, needily, on what he means and how much he means it— and he clearly doesn’t. He grabs his fork and starts shovelling pasta into his mouth like it’ll magically turn the conversation to something more palatable for him.

“I’d like to change my answer,” you say.

Eddie swallows harshly. “Can’t. All compliments have been locked in. Maybe at our next cat fight.”

—

Eddie’s heart isn’t pounding like he worried it might when he asked you to follow him into the bathroom. He pictured sweaty, shaking palms, his hands hesitant, a reminiscent picture of a past self who didn’t know how to make girls make noise. He thought the next time he was alone with you, it would be the tragic scene from the movies where the boy bears his heart and the girl can’t accept it. He’s not expecting you to understand. It’s getting to the point where the mean shit he said to you isn’t made up of words anymore but the image of you in the Prover Theatre with your sparkling dress and your dull eyes. He hates that he made you feel that way, and he should say sorry. He feels fucking sorry.

“Don’t cut me,” you say, quiet so you won’t be caught together.

“I won’t.”

“When was the last time you did this?”

“It’s like riding a bike,” he insists. “I haven’t forgotten.”

You simper. Propped up on the sink’s counter, your skirt hiking up your thighs (imagine him covering his face with his hands, rocking his head from side to side, you’re wearing garters) and your jacket falling into the basin. You’ve turned one arm toward him trustingly, but apprehension plays clear as day over your mouth. He wants to remark that your mouth is pretty, but it’s not the right word. Perfect feels closer, but again, it’s not what he wants. He has a fascination with how you talk and when you don’t, how your lips have a mind of their own sometimes, nibbled and popped and pouting.

“It’s easier if you take your shirt off.”

“How many girls believed that one?” you ask happily. He’s ecstatic. Dinner perked you up and now you’re all smiles and warm laughs. He doesn’t know why you’d been angry with him (he does) because you started it (not really), but you got something off your chest at least.

“None,” he says. “I’m serious that it’s easier. But you really don’t have to take it off for me to make it look good.”

Eddie wields his small pen knife toward your arm.

“I like my sleeves,” you say as he takes the hem of one such sleeve into his free hand.

“Don’t be a baby.” He pulls it taut from your skin. You’re both smiling. Carbs are good like that.

“I have fat arms,” you try.

He’s out of his mind. Eddie leans down and kisses the top of your arm quickly. “Shut up,” he says.

He doesn’t have time to think about what he’s done. It’ll torture him tonight when all he has for distraction are hotel sheets, and then tomorrow on the red eye back to L.A. He honestly doesn’t wanna look at you because if your nose is even slightly wrinkled he’ll have to turn to the gross toilet in the corner and chuck up, but he also doesn't want to freak you out. He looks up at you from under his lashes.

You look flustered.

Not disgusted.

“I’m doing it,” he warns.

“Yeah,” you say, nearly normal. “Fine. Make me look cool.”

“You admit that I look cool.”

“No.”

Eddie digs the tip of his pen knife into your sleeve and starts pulling. The fabric tears away in a jagged-lined but even circle around your arm, broadening a tantalising stretch. His stomach hurts a bit. To reach your second arm, the one furthest from him, he has to take up station between your spread legs. Or maybe he doesn’t have to, but he does, your thighs like two warm spots either side of him as he leans in close.

“And this is what’s gonna make them all like me, right? This is the cement of my street cred?”

“Your street cred? No. And I don’t think anything you do could make them like you.” You lean back at his words. He pulls you back in, fingers braceleting your arm as he fakes taking a measurement. “If they don’t like you already, they won’t. Not your fault, not your problem. Who says you even like them?”

“I do, though. That’s my problem. I even like Little Miss Fleetwood,” you grumble.

He raises his eyebrows to show he’s listening, stabbing at your sleeve and tearing slow. “She still tripping you up?”

“No. I’m just trying to make you laugh.”

He laughs under his breath. “Mission accomplished, baby,” he murmurs.

Both sleeves sliced, Eddie steps away from you, ignoring the heat in his stomach to take you in. People who don’t know where they stand shouldn’t be so close to one another, he decides, ‘cause wishful thinking has him marking your hands as wanting. Your fingers move slowly as if through water, tip of your index on the left hand stroking down the back of your right marriage. Eddie pins salaciousness on everybody he meets —coke is falling out of fashion fast but sex is always in— but he can’t get a faithful read on you now. He wants you to want to be kissed. Doesn’t trust that you do.

“You look edgy.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” you ask.

“An awful way.”

You go quiet, your hands go still. You raise your head until it’s too much, and he realises he’s been moving back in. He drops the penknife in the sink on top of your jacket, putting his hand on your freshly bared arm and bunching the sleeve up as much as he can without it pulling at you. He’s greedy and he wants to palm at your skin like an asshole, that’s not your problem.

“That bad?” you ask.

He angles his face over yours. He needs two inches maybe three, and you’d be kissing. His hand falls down your arm to your elbow, clasping weakly over your skin.

“No,” he says. He can barely hear himself.

Greedy. His second hand comes up to your face, waiting, and when you lift your jaw just so he slots his hand under it and holds you.

“What are we doing?” you whisper.

What are ‘we’ doing?

“Nothing you don’t want to do.” He widens the gap between you.

“I know– I know that.” Your arm ventured forward, fingers twisting around the hem of his shirt. You tug it gently, pulling him forward again. “I just don’t understand it. You. I don’t get what’s happening, Eddie.”

“Well… I was going to kiss you.” Eddie fights to sound the way he feels, out of his element but so earnest his chest aches. “I really, really… want to kiss you.”

It doesn’t feel like admitting defeat, as he’d initially thought it might. Neither does it feel confessional. You can’t confess to a secret already known.

He kisses you just once. A light brush of his lips against yours. Anymore than that and he knows he’ll start making promises like someone who has room for them. His eyes scrunch closed hard and he struggles not to squeeze your poor cheek as the pressure of your lips builds, as they part, as he pulls back and you chase him. He can’t kiss your mouth anymore than that, but your hands are grabbing at him, pleading and twitching and cold against the searing skin of his abdomen as they search underneath his shirt. Eddie feels the soft curve of your hip under his hand, knowing he can’t fuck you here, and undecided on whether that’ll be his ruin or his saviour.

You shudder as he kisses down. His hands are hungry but his mouth is sweet, gentle like you deserve as he noses down the column of your throat.

“I don’t get you,” you say, your fingertips sewn into his hair, scratching over his scalp lightly. Your breath catches as he parts his lips. His teeth scratch over the damp crescents of previous kisses.

He loses himself in the ticklish feeling of your hand and the heat of your skin. “Hm?” he hums.

“I understood you better when I thought you didn’t like me.”

He kisses up to the soft crook of your jaw before edging you away, just enough to see the sad set of your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, utters, like you’re trading secrets. His thumb rubs your cheek, a rough touch. He’s never been much good at aligning his words with actions; his heart and his hands.

He doesn’t know what to do to fix your sad frown. He kisses you again in case that’s what you wanted but couldn’t say, and it works for a handful of blessed, wretched seconds. You kiss back hard. Eddie has to break it to take a breath.

You rest your forehead against his. It slides slowly to his nose, and eventually you’ve bowed your head, your hands slipping down to his elbows.

“I feel sick all the time,” you say. Your hands flex against his skin. “The only time I feel alright is when I’m playing– when I’m making something.” You press your head to his chest. “Or when I’m with you.”

Eddie thinks of all the shitty decisions he’s made. His restlessness, his bad attitude. His propensity to assume the worst. How he’d taken your thumb rubbing a smudge off of his cheek in the Prover Theatre as a jab, rather than a helping hand.

He wraps his arms around you.

Your head fits under his rather well.

“I know what you mean,” he says. And out of everything he’s told you today, that’s the hardest to say aloud.

Eddie hugs you in the dim light of that dingy bathroom knowing he’s running on borrowed time. All too soon, you’re pulling apart and he’s helping you off of the counter unnecessarily. You don’t hold hands on the way back to Wings Stadium. He thought you might. You’re quiet. He tries to cheer you up, feeling more and more like he’s done something wrong the closer you get to the venue.

He doesn’t have anything to offer. You’re both on tour now. He doesn’t have a clue when he’ll see you next, or what he’ll say when he does.

Miraculously, he gets you back to your dressing room. He gives your cheek a quick squeeze.

“Play well tonight,” he says.

“I always play well.”

You do. He watches you from the VIP section a couple of hours later, impressed. Mildly nauseous. His thumb worries the edge of the pass until it splits in his hand, paper coming apart from cardboard. Your singer might be a handful, but she knows when to be discreet. He slinks out before your set finishes through a side entrance, and his head races with your image. If it weren’t for your cut sleeves and the flank of your upper arm glowing under the stage lights, he’d put his kisses down to surreal delusion.

Eddie doesn’t notice the lone photographer hiding in the eaves.

The photographer notices him.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

!!! thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging, it helps so much! Let me know what you thought, what bits you liked and what you want to see next

can you feel another spat coming along 0.0 I honestly had so much fun writing this one especially the scene with Wayne and then the end scene in the bathroom <3 it’s always crazy to see hours and hours condensed into chapters like this but idc I’m having the time of my life and hope u guys r too! the word count is now at a solid 26k I believe though so it does feel rewarding in that way

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst

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andreas-river · 1 year ago

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I would like to request a Nikto x Reader :)

Nikto overheard a conversation you were having with the other operators on base about how beautiful the nearby flowers are blooming in spring. He has begun a daily ritual of hiking up the hill to find the prettiest and gathering them for you. Secretly leaving little bouquets in places you would find.

ʻʻLingering scentʼʼ

Pairing: Nikto x Fem!Reader

TW: none, mostly fluff.

He never meant to eavesdrop on you.

That’s what he repeated to himself every time, watching the space ahead of him but with his ears focused on the tone of your voice, hearing the smile that you had. He never felt it before, nor did he know that you could feel a smile in someone’s voice.

There were small details, the way you pointed at the flowers outside on the way to the base, his eyes travelling all the way around to see the camp at the side of the road.

And to be honest with himself, he never noticed them, until now.

He couldn’t ever be a gentleman, there was no way that he saw himself give a bouquet of flowers to someone. The thought almost made him feel sick from the bottom of his stomach.

That same night, Nikto walked out of the base, a flashlight in his left hand as his boots left imprints on the cold ground. The snow was long gone, the days were becoming longer and longer, feeling like a fish out of water as the temperatures became warmer.

When he dropped down and pointing the light at them, gloved fingers brushing at the stem as he picked it from the ground, he realized that he never observed a flower in his entire life. The petals looked so bright under the artificial light, the center a bright yellow, reminding him of the time he saw you wear a yellow shirt.

He never expected to see you with that color on you, attracting more than a few pair of eyes, yet you walked straight like you weren’t a complete walking headlight.

He collected others from the ground, without even counting them as he held them in his other hand, walking back while trying to figure out a plan to give them to you. That’s when the thought hit him like a train: he was planning to give you a bouquet of flowers.

—

The following day, he stayed more than usual at shooting wooden targets with his rifle, his fingers tingling as if pure electricity was flowing in his veins, trying to keep himself at bay. He still remembers how he found himself searching for anything that could’ve kept the flowers together, finding only a rubber band inside one of his drawers.

He didn’t know what was driving him to such actions, he just felt like it was the right thing to do after hearing what you said.

At one point, he was forced by his teammates to get out from the training area, almost pushing him all the way. He sat with them as they were eating their lunch, his box still closed—he would eat it only in the privacy of his own room.

Still distracted by the flow of his own thoughts, he didn’t acknowledge your presence until you walked by, surprised to see you alone. He listened as you asked for a plastic cup—a bit weird, bottles were most used, until he watched you pouring water inside it as you gently placed flowers inside. Those flowers.

Until you turned in his direction, finally going back to reality and seeing his teammates waving at you, inviting you to sit with them.

He didn’t realize he was staring at you until your eyes watched him back, yet your smile never faltered for a moment, sitting in front of him and placing the flowers on the table.

“And where did those come from?”

He watched you blush at the question, murmuring that you didn’t know, and telling how you found the little bouquet of flowers tied at the handle of your door that same morning.

He held back a groan as Rodion tried to understand who could have been the gentleman behind that gesture, your face becoming redder by the second as his teammate tried to think of any person.

You let out a nervous laugh, distractedly fixing the flowers inside the cup.

His heart skipped a beat when you shifted your gaze on him, even if it was only for a moment.

—

It happened again, and again, your room perfumed from all those flowers that somehow ended up in spots where you always went. Always held by a rubber band, always tucked in a corner—yet you knew exactly what the corner would be.

You were dying of curiosity since that morning you first found them, soon being aware that someone was doing that on purpose, but not leaving any trace behind.

But you knew better than that.

The way he stared at you—someone even said that he was a creep, but there was more than meets the eye. The more you watched him, the more you started to understand that his eyes gave out more about him, or the way his legs shifted when he was sitting, or how he crossed his arms in his chest or if he left them at his sides.

It was a difficult book to read, too many difficult words to understand and concepts hard to grasp at first glance.

But you wanted to know more, to know him more and the reason behind those flowers.

Slowly sticking your head out of your room and closing the door behind you, you stealthily walked out, going straight to your favorite spot in the little yard of the base. You could feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, almost afraid that someone could hear it, even if it was impossible.

At night everything was easier for you. It happened occasionally in the past that you would meet him, the insomnia having the best of you both, ending up talking—you would always do most of the talk, he would just sit and listen at everything, from the gossips that went around the base to personal matters that heaved on you, feeling almost childish to trust him so blindly.

Apart from seeing him in the field, you knew nothing about him, except all the thing other said about him. All the rumors that went around the base, the way everyone dared to talk behind his back but shutting their mouth the moment his shadow appeared closer to them. They were afraid of him, that was obvious.

But that didn’t stop you at all, reasons why you sat under that tree in the middle of the night, waiting for him to appear.

Little did you know that he was observing you from afar, trying to walk his way around but knowing well why you picked that spot—you already knew. And like in that moment, you already managed to put yourself in his way, always stopping him in his tracks at every inopportune—and opportune moment.

The dirt under his boots made enough noise to attract your attention, watching you turn around, your eyes light up the moment you saw him. No one ever watched him that way.

“You should sleep at this hour.”

Your smile widened after his words. “I can say the same about you.”

He didn’t answer your statement, the flowers in his pocket burning like fire, their perfume making his head spin. He noticed the way you breathed in, surely noticing the sweet scent lingering around him. Not saying a word, you just shifted, making space for him on the bench, patting the cold material with your hand and inviting him to sit.

After a moment, he obliges.

For some time, he just imitates what you do, watching the sky above, clouds and stars blending in one big painting, letting all thoughts slip away from his mind, somehow less clouded than ever.

You let the wind do the talk this time, your smile never faltering for a moment, not even when he finally gets up from the bench, the first lights of dawn filling the sky in bright stripes. He cannot help but feel the shadow of a smile forming behind his mask as your lips murmur a ‘thank you’, voice too low to understand—but you both surely didn’t need the voice to understand each other.

You follow him soon after, this time leaving the scent from the chamomile flowers lingering for a bit longer on that bench, their petals flying away with the wind of that new morning.

#nikto #cod nikto #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #request open #cod mw #request #call of duty nikto #mwii nikto #nikto mwii #nikto x reader #cod mw19 #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #nikto x fem reader

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cy-cyborg · 1 year ago

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Hi, I was wondering what sort of leg prosthetic would work well in a fight? I'm designing a magical girl OC with a prosthetic leg and want to incorporate a rather more pink and sparkly one into her magical girl form. I know you can get blades for running, but would those be better than a normal prosthetic for running and leaping around while bonking monsters with a magic stick?

Hey there, I think I remember seeing your question on my old account right? I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you!

So a blade probably wouldn't be ideal, but a hybrid might.

Blade prosthetics are very good for running, but are absolutely terrible for literally everything else, including standing or walking. Essentially, blade prosthetics are modeled off of digitigrade legs. For the non-furries on my page, digitigrade legs are what cats and dogs have on their back legs where it bends at the knee, then bends back the other way at a second joint before their feet.

[ID 1: A pair of black running blade prosthetics with yellow edges. Their wearer is out of frame but we can see they are running along a track. /end ID] [ID 2: A photo of a cheetah from the side. In the photo we can clearly see the structure of its legs, as described above. /End ID]

This is actually their ankle, and their "foot" is their toes. This arrangement makes these animals really fast and nimble, but it comes at the cost of lower balance. That's not an issue when you have another two legs to help keep you steady, but when you put that onto a human we start having issues. This is why if you watch any races where the competitors are using these prosthetics, they almost always fall over, especially the double leg amputees. Essentially, the shape and springiness of a blade gives you a massive speed advantage (so much so that amputee runner Oscar Pistorius had to be given disadvantages in order to compete in the Olympics with able-bodied runners) but it essentially moves the ankle joint and heel - the one our brains automatically know to weight bare through - up off the ground. The closest an able bodied person could get to the feeling of running on a blade would be to wear a pair of stilleto heels with the heal removed, and a spring on the bottom.

Hybrid feet though are a combination of blade feet and the regular feet amputees usually get. They are like tiny blades, but they usually have a foot-shell on the outside so you don't see it. These hybrid feet give you some of the extra padding and suspension you'd get from a running blade (which makes running/jumping etc more comfortable) as well as a bit of a speed boost, though not as much as the big ones, and they don't come at the cost of your balance, which you'r character will need when fighting.

Ossur's Flex foot range are a good one to look at for refeance, I used them when I was doing martial arts, as do a few friends of mine who are still doing it. This is a link to their website, it's got pictures of what they look like both internally and when people are using them, and I beleive theirs a booklet you can download on the page as well if you want to read into them a bit more. This isn't the only one of course, but it's the one I've used before:

I'm planning to do a breakdown in a little bit more detail about the different types of prosthetic feet and what they're good for eventually, but for what you described, I think this is what would work best.

#disability #disabled #writing #writeblr #writing disability #designing disabled characters #amputee #amputees #leg amputees #prosthetics

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midnightmayhem13 · 8 months ago

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Hii! Could I request the marvel ladies reaction to reader referring to them as her girlfriend for the first time <33

now i see daylight

this is so adorable! and ofc coming rightt up(ultra delayed post)

warning!- some suggestive bits(nothing specifically said)

Carol Danvers

once awhile, u and the girls go to a fancy jazz club. usually it's an excuse for you guys to dress up and get wine drunk and wake up feeling refreshed, albeit a lil hungover. this time, you and your lovely gf Carol go as a together. you wore a stunning navy blue dress and she wore a casual navy suit. Carol was drooling over you and she couldn't stop staring at you but you were also obsessing over ur sexy buff ass gf. you walk in hand in hand and go around the party talking to ur friends. you and carol separate for js a moment. when ur friends head home u sit there sipping ur drink alone and a man comes to sit next to you and start bugging you. "hey beautiful, you here alone?" "no im actually with someone" you answer sternly. thanks to Carols quick reflexes, you don't have to suffer long. she puts a firm hand on ur back and kisses the top of ur head. but thanks to the drinks he doesnt take the hint. "why don't u take me home dove; i'll show you want i can do." you and carol giggle. as she's about to say smt, you interupt. "actually" leaning into Carol, putting ur hand on her stomach as her hand goes over ur shoulder. "i'm gonna be taking my beautiful girlfriend home so you can go now." Gosh you've never looked sexier to carol. she honestly js starts fawning over you and lets out a THATS MY GIRL and hugs you super tight bc her heart js melted. you're so proud about being with her and she cannot contain the blush that's on her cheek. you two walk out (ur lipstick all over Carols face and neck) she's so giddy about the events that happened and cannot stop kissing u all over. it's like ur first date all over again and honestly, she can't wait to call u her wife!!

Darcy Lewis

Darcy is the smartest girl you know. and naturally as an Avenger you introduce her to Tony and safe to say he's very impressed with her and pats you on the back for finding such a brilliant girl. everyone likes Darcy too!! she makes you happy, she's hot, she's loyal, and mf is a Dr and an astrophysicist!! you always flaunt that. well when a big company asks the avengers to come work with them bc some sort of anomaly (think wandavision but no one's dead bc i said so) has accured and they need some brains and brawns. while tony and bruce alone were smarter than all of the companies scientists; they bit off more than they could chew. after a few weeks of all the scientists working at it, they only advance a bit. you go home and darcy comes over and you rant to her about it bc ur fed up. and suggest the idea of bringing her to help and she considers it. she spends the night so she might as well tag along and see what she can do. at first the companies big boss disregards her and even tries to push her away from the monitors. you grab his wrist "don't you touch her. and just so yk my girlfriend is smarter than all ur stupid scientists so i suggest you let her take a look so she can fix wtv ur men can't" Darcy is actually frozen to her spot bc that was so hot. the heat from her cheeks spread all the way down and she's at a loss for words. her face turns bright red and she nudges you too stop cutting the guys circulation off (she's well aware you'll break this guys arm for her). she thanks you and kisses ur cheek as she sits down. give her a few hours and BOOM. she's gotten to the bottom of the problem and has two possible ways to fix it, they both end up working. Darcy bugs about how much you brag about her. you give her a whole speech on why she's the greatest women ever as you hold her. she loves you with her whole heart and has never felt safer in her big bad avengers gfs arms.

Maria Hill

Even though Maria is always incredibly busy with Shield, and you with the avengers, you always find time to be together. but being women of high power has never been easy. that being said, both of you get looked down on even after showing ur skill time and time again. so you arrive at headquarters looking for your bad ass gf, carrying with you a few treats so she doesn't forget to eat. as you make ur way towards everyone they seem to be doing their usual thing. you could spot her from a mile away away. she's the most beautiful women you've ever laid eyes on. you approach her. her eyes land on you and her face immediately lights up. she greats you with a tight hug, a kiss on the head and then the lips. she's gotten more comfortable with being affectionate at work, you notice. "thank you baby" she says sweetly, completely contrasting to the harsh tone she uses with her troops. "i'll be back in a second" she goes to tell her most trusted troop to take charge as she steps out for a second. almost as if she cannot live in peace, a scrawny, insecure guy comes out of nowhere and starts complaining about Maria being off duty (who even is he) he starts causes a scene and honestly makes you laugh a bit. you two go to walk off to ignore him and suddenly the hoe grabs you!! yeahh maria is not gonna let this go. but when she goes to interfere but yank your arm away "my girlfriend has all of this under control so why don't you turn around and get back to work, the nerve of you!" Maria jaw is DROPPED. i mean she knew you could get serious but seeing her adorable gf give commands does something to her body. almost as if she's shy being in ur presence. she's sure she's never smiled bigger. you turn around and grab her had and guide her to the break room. she feels like she has a silly little school girl crush as she giddily follows you around.

sharon carter

(this is power broker sharon bc she's hot but no one's dead BC I SAID SO) To say sharon was kinda nervous about telling you about her job was an understatement. i mean you were an avenger but also the love of her life. it was a long talk but you got it to work. anyways you hung around a lot at her place bc hello?? it's huge and you love seeing ur hot gf do illegal ass things bccc she wasn't an avenger level threat (yet) so by ur logic, we're chilling. and she was on okay terms with steve, bucky and sam. when she hosts her auctions you're always welcome to come to them too! you want to be there just in case the worse happens, even tho she's more than capable of controlling it. but that doesn't mean you're safe from any guys or gals that want to hit on you. if they know who you are, you're okay but if they don't know who you are or have a death note they'll hit on you. usually you hang low or by the bar bc sharon's busy at these events. as you sip your favorite margarita you feel a tap on your shoulder. a security guard? "uhm hi can i help you?" you ask politely. unbeknownst to you sharon's watching (she always is) and heading her way over to you. the guards are specifically told not to speak to you unless u speak to them. she's possessive what can you say. "i'm not sure you're on the list your gonna have to step out" he says roughly grabbing ur arm and tugging you off your stool. sharon is basically bolting at this point. "my girlfriends the owner of this place and is the reason you buy ur meals so get off of me" you say and push him back. he's about to tackle you bc yk ego. until he sees an arm snake around your waist. oh sh*t. "get the hell out my house" sharon says and he gets escorted out. you'll probably never hear from him again. sharon grabs your waist and pulls you impossibly close to her as she places her lips on yours. "that was so sexy baby" she says on ur lips. her stern demeanor almost broke when she heard you calling her your girlfriend so proudly. it made her knees want to buckle and she felt like kicking her feet. she finally got the girl of her dreams and u guys were a match made it heaven. she can't stop thinking of this moment for months to come and definitely shows how proud she is of you later that night.

Nebula

nebula thought she was gonna be a lot of things in life. but never did she think she was gonna be the girlfriend of the most beautiful and kind girl in the galaxy. she seriously never expected to ever be blessed by your presence much rather be loved so deeply by you. although she's been weary of love her whole life, you've completely changed her perspective. you love her so deeply it's almost unfathomable. that being said, anything you guys are in a new planet and go explore you always make sure to stick to her side. who's gonna mess with ur big ass blue gf?? not to mention she's possessive with you and aggressive with anyone but you. she's also so gentle with her sweet girl. so you'd expect any on looker to stay away from you bc nebula likes to walk around with her hand on ur butt while holding you close. but when some weird looking dude approaches nebula immediately become alert but all he does is aggressively bump into her "hey watch where the hell your going u got ur dirty paws on my girlfriend!" you yell as you grab wtv the hell is on top of his (maybe hair??) and he has no other choice but to apologize to nebula. when he leaves nebula is left speechless. why are you so proud that ur dating her?she can't control herself tho and pulls you into an ally to passionately make out with you. that was so hot. she lifts you by ur butt and presses you against a wall. you giggle and pull away as she chases ur lips "what's with this nebby?" "i love you." she says hoarsely. she didn't know how to respond to the whole situation. she couldn't care less about what the guy said or didn't say. but you loved her so much and we're so open about it. she was gonna love you forever.

kate bishop

Kates sure you could do something so simple as breathing and she would get giddy. she's no kidding. she absolutely adores you and you adore her. that's why you two just work. and while not all things come to you guys that simple most things do. you to do have your fights but they can usually be resolved with a good talk followed by a movie marathon with pizza and Lucky cuddles. so that's what you guys are doing right now. don't get me wrong, this happens on a weekly bases not just when you guys are having an argument. it's just a chill saturday afternoon, both you and kate resting from having a hard week in training and working with adults who never seemed to be pleased with any improvement in any skill. but anyways. you kate and lucky are all cuddled up on her couch as you decide what movie to pick out. as if it's a 6th sense kate suddenly gasps "we didn't order pizza!" and even lucky pops his head up, distraught by this horrible news. you have a good laugh but kate is seriously concerned about this. you stroke her hair and kiss it and tell her you'll order it rn. kate js smiles snuggly at lucky (who she high fives) as she leans her head on ur tit and receives head rubs. you call her favorite pizza place and order ur usual order while she finds a few movies to binge. thanks to nyc, ur pizza arrives in no time. and when you hear the bell ring you and lucky go answer the door. kates too busy complaining cuz her pillows gone. as you answer the door luckys right there as ur security. "haha your dogs really cute!" says the delivery guy "thank you my girlfriend found him!" you say simply as you tip him and close the door. kate literally gets up and runs around as she squeals. you thought she was just really hungry but after she picks you up when you put the pizza down she tells you other wise. she spins you around and cannot take the big goofy smile off her face. she's left speechless but her smile speaks for her. when you ask her about it your heart melts at how pure she is. the rest of the night she's has that smile on her face as she's resting on ur favorite pillow, you!!

a/n- so sorry this took so long and it's kinda crappy! i was kinda stuck so they all sound similar but hopefully you guys enjoyed! send requests!!🤍🤍

stay safe hoes🤍

#carol danvers x reader #darcy lewis x reader #maria hill x reader #nebula x reader #sharon carter x reader #kate bishop x reader #marvel imagine #wlw #marvel fluff #midnightmayhem13

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topazy · 10 months ago

Text

Inside, outside

Pairing: 10k x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and brains

Chapter: 5.06

After bringing the quad bike to a complete stop when you spot a deserted-looking warehouse, 10k jumps off the back first, and immediately you’re missing the warmth of his arm wrapped around your waist. With the sling of his gun over his shoulder, he offers you his hand to help you climb off. If 10K wasn’t a gentleman before, people would probably be catching onto how protective he was being.

You, 10K, Warren, Murphy, and Addy had gone to find the source of bizkit’s and why they seemed to be low rations of it, while Doc and George headed back to Altura to keep an eye on Dante’s trial.

“Is that the bakery? The place looks abandoned.”

“It doesn’t mean nobody is home,” Warren points out.

The five of you stand on the edge of a small hill that leads down to the pathway into the building. The side of the hill was mainly covered in rubble, preventing any vehicles from driving on it.

Murphy looks lost in thought; a look of distress appears on his face. You lightly hit his arm to gain his attention. “Are you okay?”

“I smell brains.”

“This must be the place, then.”

When the five of you started making your way down the path, you were being extra cautious not to trip while walking on such a rocky surface. 10k stays in front of you and continues to glance back, ready to catch you if you do fall.

Murphy walks by you at a normal pace and scoffs, “You two make me feel sick.”

“Just keep walking, Alvin.”

“My biggest fear is losing you. When you were kidnapped, I realized how much I loved you and that there was nothing I wouldn't do to find you,” Murphy says mockingly. “You're my best friend, Tommy, and there's not a line I wouldn't cross to keep you safe.”

10k glares at him and warningly snaps, “Shut the hell up.”

Addy, who’s standing at the bottom, already looks up in confusion. “What is he talking about?”

“Nothing.”

In a high-pitched fake girly voice, Murphy says, “I knew our fates were intertwined.“

“I swear to god!” You knew Murphy was looking for a reaction, and usually you wouldn’t take the bait too easily, but he had been teasing you since you left for this new task.

“Don’t get wound up; he’s not worth the reaction,” 10k says calmly, but as soon as you reach the bottom where the others are waiting, he presses the long side of his rifle against Murphy’s collarbone, pushing him into the wall. “Lay the fuck off Murphy.”

“Jeez, lighten up, kid.”

10k steps back.

Warren clicks her fingers. “All of you, focus.”

Once you checked, nobody else was in sight. You round the corner, and Addy breaks the lock on the door, giving you all access to the building.

—

The inside of the building stinks of rotten meat, which is explained when you find human skulls and parts of rotten brains scattered across various baking trays.

The group had split up, but you could see both Addy and 10k going to check out the same area. It saddened you that they no longer had a close relationship, and you felt partially responsible for it, but then it was your sister who left. Since they last saw each other, Addy had lost an eye, and 10k had lost his hand, and they could have leaned on each other for support.

“Astra, I’m really sorry, but it looks like she left during the night.”

You shake your head, refusing to believe it. “No, no. Something is wrong; Addy wouldn’t just go without telling me. She wouldn’t do that.”

When you awoke in the morning to find Addy gone, you assumed she had gone hunting, but when she never returned, a couple of hours later, you, 10k, and Red went looking for her, but you couldn’t find her. You returned to your home to see if she had returned.

Red links her fingers with yours and gives you a sympathetic look. “All her stuff is gone.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to hold back tears. Addy only found you in the first place while looking for someone else. “She’s gone to find Lucy,” you say, clearing your throat. “We should go and let Tommy know; I don’t want him out there looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

You aim your gun in the direction of something being crushed and slowly make your way over to a large mixer, which appears to have turned on itself. You look inside it and almost gag at seeing more skulls.

“You guys seeing this? This place is gross.”

When you don’t get a reply, you spin around to see Warren staring at something with a concerned look on her face. She notices you looking and waves you over. When you do, you see what the problem is.

“Eh Murphy, are you good? You’re practically drooling over a skull?”

“Yeah,” he quickly shrugs your comment off. “This place just gives me the munchies.”

All of a sudden, a man appears and starts firing at the three of you. Quickly, you jump out of the way to avoid being shot and accidentally scrape your stomach on something sharp. You duck behind one of the metal tables and, taking a few deep breaths, look down to see blood appearing on your top.

No, no, no.

Murphy crawls over beside you and says, “What the hell are you doing? We gotta keep moving.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I just—fuck.”

“Did you get shot?”

“No, I’ve just cut my stomach.” The cut wasn’t deep, and you were sure it hadn’t harmed the baby, but it gave you one hell of a fright. Between deep breaths, you start mumbling to yourself, “Tommy is going to freak.”

Seeing how afraid you are, something clicks in Murphy, and he gives you a look of understanding. He knows. Quietly, he says, “Stay behind me; we are going to make a run for it.”

You nod, and the two of you manage to run behind a different spot without being shot.

—

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you try anything stupid.” You say, aiming at the man who was previously trying to kill your head.

While he chases Murphy and Warren off from either side, the man seemed to not care that much about weapons being so close to his head. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a zombie standoff. You have me; I got him, and my brothers got all three of you.”

You glance around the room; it was more than likely that 10k or Addy had gotten to his brother first.

“We are looking for bizkits,” Warren says. “We have starving talkers that are starting to turn.”

“We are just trying to survive ourselves, and it’s crooks like you who have shut down the bakery and turned us into a bunch of dirty dogs. So lower your weapons and kindly waltz out of here, or we’re all going to be crawling brains.”

“Look, I don’t know who you think we are, but we aren’t them.”

“That’s what the last bunch said before they started shooting.”

You didn’t doubt the man’s story for a second; the bakery was covered in a red mist of blood. A door creaks open, and Addy and 10k bring out another man, whom you assume is the brother with a gun at his back.

“Listen,” you lower your weapon slightly, “your brother is still human, and I know you want to keep it that way. Just tell us what we want to know, and nobody else will get hurt.”

The man gulps down, “So, you're in need of some help?”

—

While the older man, Gilly, looks at his younger brother, Skull's nose, which was cut by your sister. 10K pulls you aside and grips a hold of the bottom of your top, “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine; it’s just a cut.”

He holds your gaze. “Are you sure?”

“We’ll be fine.”

You return to your group just in time to hear Gilly explain that it was their mom who invited bizkits to save their brother, who had been bitten, but then the brother bit the mom when they ran out. And since the bombing, someone has been attacking the bakery so they won’t continue making them. Their mom had turned two weeks ago, and she was the only one who had the recipe.

You look up at the window of the office overlooking the rest of the bakery and see multiple talkers that have turned.

—

Murphy stands up a table, holds up a radio, and turns the music up to distract the talkers while Skull sneaks inside to get the recipe. The plan was going well until Skull tripped and fell and was bitten by their zombified brother right after their mom ate the recipe.

“I hate to say it, but the only way to keep them from turning might be to feed them actual brains.”

From the doorway at the far side of the room, multiple heavy footsteps can be heard, along with snarling and hissing. All the noise must have attracted the nearby Z’s from outside. Thankfully, only a small number of them came into the building.

You run up behind one of the Z’s and stab it in the head before shooting another two. You notice Addy and 10k working together to take out Z's, which makes you smile.

Warren cuts the head off one and tosses it to Gilly.

You stand behind 10k and bury your face into his back, not wanting to witness Gilly crushing the skull, then cutting up the brains, and then feeding them to the walkers.

When the talkers return to normal, the mom flirts with a creeped-out Murphy, kissing him on the cheek before continuing to help.

—

Sitting with your legs dangling over the edge of a table, you watch as the brothers bag up the last of the bizkits. Hearing a whistling noise, you look over to Murphy, who was trying and failing to be discreet by waving you and 10k over to him, then looking away.

You and 10k stand on either side of him. “What’s going on?”

“I just wanted to say...” he trails off while tracing patterns in the flour scattered across the table with his finger. Murphy's jaw clenches slightly. “I don’t like either of you, but I do think you will be great parents, even lefty over here.”

With that, he turns and quickly walks away. You share a confused look with 10k. “Did you tell him?”

“No, but I think he figured it out.”

Ultimately, you’d need to tell the others the truth sooner than later. 10k smiles and brushes strands of hair out of your face. “Go for it.”

“Uh, guys, we’ve got something we need to tell you.”

Warren and Addy step a little closer, and you try not to laugh, seeing the worried look on their faces.

“Tommy and I are having a baby.”

#z nation #10k x you #10k x reader #inside outisde #z nation 10k #z nation rewrite #10k z nation #z nation fanfic #z nation fanfiction #addy z nation #inside outside 5.06 #z nation warren #murphy z nation #10k/you #10k/reader

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tcw-x-reader · 9 months ago

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When The World Comes to Pieces

Crosshair x reader x Tech (no clonesest, ew), usual star wars violence, swearing maybe?

"I don't like this.." I mumble as Crosshair and I put our rifles together.

"What do you mean?" Hunter calls from the front, turning his head to look at me.

"I don't know...I feel, uneasy." I say, looking up at him.

"If you hurl on me, I'll kill you." Crosshair says, standing up and lifting up his rifle, testing the weight.

"Duly noted." I reply, moving to the front of the ship.

"Don't worry, when we get back to Kamino, we'll be back in our own barracks." Echo says, I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but the smell in that room only made me sicker. I sigh as I sat in the seat by Wrecker.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

As we make our way back to where Caleb said we were needed, Crosshair and I break off from the group and get on top of a rock formation of sorts, aiming our weapons below. We shoot the droids down, one by one, making a path for the others to run through.

"Wrecker's having too much fun with this." I chuckle and Crosshair groans.

"As long as he gets the job done, he can have as much fun as he wants."

"Crosshair, N/n, let's get these tanks moving!" Hunter's voice says through comms.

"You heard the man." I say.

"Sir, yes, sir." Crosshair says, and it almost sounds like he's excited. We both take aim and shoot at the same time, the lines connecting to the tanks and Wrecker goes and starts pushing them.

'Huh? Hey. Stop that. Adjust the stabilizers. We're going over!' We both hear the droid scream through Echo's comm. I laugh boisterously and don't miss the shake of Crosshair's shoulders as he tries not to laugh as well. We both watch the tanks go over and Tech detonate the bomb. Cross and I both run down the hill and when the blast goes off he instinctively shields me before we start running down again. We meet up with them at the bottom, Wrecker pulling me to him and cheering.

"You saw that, right!" He smiles under the helmet.

"I did! That was awesome!" I say.

"Oh please, don't encourage him." Crosshair groans.

"What was it you said uo there again? Hm..Oh yeah 'as long-'" Crosshair brings me to his chest, putting his hand over my mouth as we continue to walk.

"Not. Another. Word." He lets go.

"If you wanted to cuddle, you could've just asked." He rolls his eyes, flicking my forehead.

"You're dead." He hums.

"Well, it's been real." I shrug, he mused.

We make our way out of the dust that settles and to the Jedi and their Captain.

"Care to introduce your new friends, Caleb?" The Jedi master asks, I can't help but feel a sense of loss when I look at her. My brow furrows.

"Yes, Master. This is Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, Tech, Crosshair, and Y/n. Clone Force 99." I smile politely.

"The Clone War may soon be over." Tech says, and I feel my stomach drop, i subtly grab my side and my chest tightens. Why did I like the sound of that?

"I am referring to the encrypted comm chatter. Clone intelligence is reporting Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has found and engaged General Grievous on Utapau."

"If he captures or kills Grievous, the Separatist command structure will collapse." Echo says.

"And most likely the droid armies along with them." Tech adds.

"-I suggest we focus on the task at hand." The Jedi General says.

"Any orders? Or shall we do what we do?" Hunter asks.

"Let's blow something up!" Wrecker says enthusiastically, making me snort. The Jedi padawan runs alongside us, and yet again, I feel my gut clench. And then...I hear it.

'Execute Order 66.' No.. No, that's not, that can't be right. I turn around and gasp at the Jedi, who's now engaged in a battle with her own troops, the very ones who were defending her five minutes ago. Her padawan runs to her and I hear her yell for him to run, I run up behind him and grab his robes, pushing him back and grabbing my rifle.

"No, stop!" He yells, hitting my gun.

"I won't hurt her." I say. "But you need to run." I say, making my way back to Crosshair and Hunter.

"Are you okay?" Hunter asks, grabbing ahold of my shoulder when I run past.

"Yeah- What was that? Why are they..?" He shakes his head.

"We don't know, for now, we need to make sure that kid makes it." He says, and I nod. He runs down a drift, Cross and I following behind.

For a split second, Crosshair hesitates. Out of the corner of my eye, i watch him lift his rifle to where the kid is, Hunter is too distracted to notice. Crosshair shakes his head, clutching at the side of his head, letting the rifle drop. He looks up and we make eye contact briefly, I nod to him, silently checking in. He nods in reply.

All three of us see the kid, Caleb, run to the cliff. My heart stops.

"No!" I shriek as he jumps..and.....makes it. I grab at my chest plate, where my heart is, and sigh. Hunter's hand pats my shoulder before pulling away as the other clones come down. We all silently walk away from them and back to the others.

"I don't- What was that? And what..What's..I was.." Hunter sighs.

"You left, N/n, nothing will happen to you. You're a part of this team, and an effective one too-"

"You already have a sniper." I state, making Crosshair smack the back of my head as he walks by.

"Emi. You're a vital part of this team, and a part of this squad, don't ever doubt that." Hunter said.

"Yes, according to the data I've collected, our numbers have accelerated at a higher rate with Emi on missions with us." Thank you, Tech.

"Thank you, boy wonder." Tech looks up at me.

"One day, i hope to understand the odd language you use."

"Funny, i think i could say the same about you." He smiles at me.

"Feeling better?" Wrecker asks, coming in and jostling me in a friendly manner.

"She'd probably feel better if you didn't manhandle her like she's a droid." Crosshair says, making Wrecker pout.

"Stow it, Crosshair." Echo and i say, making Crosshair groan.

"Now there's two of them."

Later that night, we're all in our bunks on the ship, I can hear Tech's snoring, and Wrecker's mumbling, and usually that doesn't prevent me from sleeping, but tonight it does.

"N/n, come here if you're planning to worry yourself mad." Crosshair says from the bunk next to me. I smile, getting out of mine and crawling into his, he acts upset, even though he's the one who suggested it.

"I knew you wanted to cuddle." i say, snuggling into him.

"Yeah, yeah." he rolls his eyes, i don't have to see to know. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, running his fingers through my hair. Over the last few months, I'd noticed it become habit for him to do so when he was stressed.

"I saw that look in your eyes, you know...I knew you held back." I say, his hand stills.

"...I wanted to, I heard the order, I wanted to...follow orders." He stumbles over his words. "But I knew you'd kill me if I ever hurt anyone innocent, so I tried." I tilt my head up to him, looking into his guilt-ridden eyes.

"We'll figure all of this out."

"Yeah," he nods, pulling me to his chest again, "we will."

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aliendes · 1 month ago

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One More Day (S.Coups) - Teaser #2

Here is teaser #2 for One More Day with S.coups! warnings below the cut. This fic is a WHOPPING 33.3K words (almost 10k more than the original) with an added smut scene! One More Day is scheduled to be posted on Dec. 20 KST!

word count: 33.3k~ (final fic)

warnings (final fic): su*cide attempts and past mentions (DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU), smoking cigarettes, drinking, cursing, asshole brother Joshua (it gets better I promise), hospitals, smut, p in v unprotected sex, fingering f receiving, oral f receiving, breeding kink (is it a des fic without it, really), creampie, cum play, low-key dirty sex but in a super romantic and loving way lol.

“Holy shit!” you gasped, nearly throwing your cigarette, when you saw a figure walk out from between the trees lining your property and the one next to it. It was a man you didn’t recognize. You squint your eyes slightly to try and see better in the dark. He stepped closer to your with both hands raised in front of him as a way to placate you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I -” he started, but trailed off almost like he forgot what he was going to say. You raised a brow at him, still unsure of the stranger. “I’m Choi Seungcheol, I live next door. I promise I’m not a creep or anything, I just noticed you standing out here for a while and wanted to make sure you weren’t locked out or something, I - I, yeah that sounded creepy. I’m sorry.” He rushed out the last words, looking almost sheepish.

Cute.

You stood there for a second too long, and Seungcheol, as you now knew him, looked almost like he was about to bolt back in the direction he came. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll g-”

“No, it’s ok.” You let out a deep sigh and chuckled darkly, no humor to be found. “You just startled me, is all.” You said with what you hoped was a small smile. It wasn’t, Seungcheol noted, but he didn’t care, just glad you were responding at all.

Another beat passes, “... so are you alright - did you need help?” He drawled, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

“No, no. This is my par- mine- my house. Well, not my permanent house, but you probably already knew that.” You stuttered. He must’ve realized the house next door to him was vacant 11 months out of the year, right?

“Ah yeah, I kind of figured that out.” he took a hesitant step forward. When he saw you weren’t running for the hills, he slowly made his way into the illumination provided by the floodlights on the back porch. You took in his features now that you could see them better. He had bleach blonde hair that looked a little fried, but that suited him nicely, large, doe-like brown eyes, and plump, cherry-like lips that were more than a little distracting. Had you not been in a crippling depression, you may have thought he was pretty handsome, you may have shot your shot with this pretty neighbor. He ran his hand through his yellow locks, “This house is usually empty, I only notice it occupied around this time of year. I’m assuming it’s your vacation house? You said it’s your parents place, right?” He took hesitant steps up to the deck.

So he caught that. Damn. “Was.” You stated simply. “It was my parents place. It’s mine now, I come here alone.” Seungcheol knew that. He’s lived next door for 8 years now, on and off. Every Christmas for the last few years, you’d been alone. He wasn’t a creeper, but he did notice you smoking those nasty cigarettes out on this very deck, alone, every single year. He remembers you used to come here with someone. A boyfriend maybe? It wasn’t his place to ask.

He’s at the bottom of the steps that lead up to your deck, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. Pity? No, there’s no way he knows what’s going on in your mind. He hesitates a moment before - “Are you ok?”

The question catches you off guard. Were you ok? You knew the answer was a big, fat no. But was that something you should share with him? A near stranger? Aside from the obvious questions you had, when was the last time someone asked you that? You couldn’t remember anyone caring enough about you in the last few years to even utter those words to you. The only people you interacted with were your coworkers, who didn’t give a shit about your personal life. All your boss cared about was that you got the job done, not about your emotions. You almost wanted to trust this man, share with him how you’re feeling, God knows you need it. You’ve been staring at him for too long, he must think you’re crazy now. You shake your head slightly to rid yourself of the thought. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You mutter, looking anywhere but his eyes.

#svt x reader #svt angst #scoups #choi seungcheol #seventeen fanfic

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fanficshiddles · 2 years ago

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Beautiful Creatures, One Shot

Thanks for the prompt! Hope you like it. I would not be surprised if I end up doing more from this! crimson25 asked: Y/N is an Asgardian slave. She's had a rough life surviving the king. One day without warning the all father banishes her for some bullshit reason (maybe she's been set up). She's banished to Jotunheim with no hope for survival. She tries to find shelter but it's no use, she collapses in the snow and ice and excepts her fate. Just before shes gone for good, Loki the king of Jotunheim finds her. After seeing how beaten, bruised, and malnourished she is, he takes pitty on her and decides that her suffering is over and takes her to his kingdom. He heals her cleans her up and gives her a decent meal. He wonders how a girl as beautiful as her was treated so badly. He then offers her a choice. Her freedom or a life with him. What will she choose.

To say she was cold wouldn’t even scratch the surface of how bitterly, aching cold she was. She was certain frostbite had sunk in, she couldn’t feel her toes anymore through her boots. Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering and the thin excuse for a cloak around her would have just as well not been there as the biting wind just whipped through.

All she could see through the blizzard was white, she wasn’t even sure how far she could see. It all seemed to blend together. She tried to keep going through the snow, but it was up past her knees and so difficult to walk through.

She tried to keep going, but suddenly the ground just vanished beneath her and she tumbled down a small rocky hill. Falling to a heap at the bottom in the snow, she looked at her hands and they were frozen stiff. She tucked herself into a ball as much she could. Closing her eyes, she decided to just welcome death. Surely it would be better than this, and what she had already endured for most of her life.

It was time. She was accepting it. She just wanted the pain to be gone.

Loki was heading back to his castle on his Jordit, a giant furry creature that was capable of carrying Jotuns. It was similar and as agile as a cat and had a horn coming out of its head, but it was white as snow, to blend in easy with the land. Its tail was long but usually curled up on itself, unless in fight mode then it would flick around dangerously, a weapon in itself. They were fiercely loyal and loving with their master, but you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of one. Especially with its large claws and huge ice fangs. They were very rare, only Loki had one out of all the Jotuns in Jotunheim.

Loki halted his Jordit suddenly and squinted a bit as he looked through the blizzard. There was a motionless pile not far from where he was, but it looked odd as he saw bits of red cloth through said pile.

He dismounted his Jordit and gave her a pat on her thick furry neck, then made his way over to investigate. As he grew closer, his eyes widened as he was shocked to find an Asgardian girl. Though she was almost as blue as him from the cold. Crouching down, he was even more shocked to see she was still breathing, just.

How she wasn’t already dead, he had no idea.

Unable to leave her in such a state, he took off his large furry green robe and scooped her tiny body up into his arms, wrapping the robe around her. As he carried her back to his Jordit, her eyes fluttered open, they widened upon seeing the large giant carrying her. And she looked a little scared when she saw the just as giant animal that he was taking her to.

‘It’s ok, you’re safe with me.’ Loki said softly.

She passed out again as Loki mounted his Jordit, carefully with her cradled against him.

‘Come on, let’s get her back to the castle as quickly as possible.’ He said as he gave his Jordit a pat on the neck.

The Jordit leapt into action and easily bolted through the deep snow like it was nothing. Loki kept the Asgardian girl covered from the snow and he kept her as close to his body as possible, making sure to give off heat instead of his usual coldness.

They were back at the castle within minutes. They didn’t stop at the gates to wait for them to open, the Jordit simply jumped clear over the top of them and raced inside. Guards went flying as they raced by, just seeing a blur of white.

The Jordit skidded to a halt outside of Loki’s chambers. His maid was just finished cleaning his chambers when he slid down with the Asgardian in his arms.

‘Oh my! Let me get the fire going!’ The maid ran back into his chambers.

‘Thank you, my friend.’ Loki said and gave his Jordit a gentle stroke on the nose. She made a low purring noise before going into the next room that belonged to her.

Loki took the girl into his chambers and was glad to see the maid had gotten the fire going nice and quickly. He placed the girl onto the rug on front of the fire and then gathered as much pillows and blankets as he could find.

‘I’ll go fetch some warm soup.’ The maid rushed out of the room.

Loki carefully put a pillow under her head and then draped many blankets over her. He then went to his bathroom and got some warm water in a bowl and a cloth, as he returned the girl was mumbling incoherently.

He crouched down next to her and started wiping her face with the warm water. It wasn’t too hot, as he knew too hot would do her more harm than good.

‘What hurts most, pet?’ He asked softly.

She was still wide eyed as she looked at him. But her mind was quickly starting to focus and work more, she realised that he had not harmed her. That he seemed to be wanting to help.

‘My… my… hands…’ She said shakily.

Loki moved the blanket enough so he could see her hands. She couldn’t move her fingers. He carefully dipped her hands into the water, and in time, she was slowly able to move all of her fingers again as the warmth returned to her body.

When Loki’s maid returned with soup, the girl was sitting up with blankets wrapped around her.

‘Thank you.’ Loki smiled at his maid.

‘Anything else I can do for you, My King, just let me know.’ She bowed her head to him.

Loki nodded and smiled. ‘Should be fine now. Go and enjoy your evening with your family. Thank you.’

Loki turned to the Asgardian girl and held out the bowl of soup. Though it was only when he held it out to her that he realised the bowl was far too big, made for Jotuns.

‘Ah… Let’s try something else.’ He said sheepishly and from the palm of his hand his seidr seeped up in a green haze and the bowl turned to a good size for her.

But when he handed it to her, she looked stunned. Though she did take the bowl, she was staring at him with wide eyes.

‘I know this must be scary, seeing Jotuns. But I promise, we mean you no harm. I don’t doubt that you will have heard terrifying stories of how we are ravaging beasts that kill anything and everyone in sight. But that is not the case. Odin has a deep hatred of my kind and people.’ Loki explained, keeping his voice soft.

‘You… You’re Laufeyson? The King?’ She squeaked.

Loki nodded. ‘I am… Try and eat some soup, it will help warm you up from the inside. You’re still shivering… I’ll run the bath.’

He disappeared momentarily, letting her take a moment to herself to take in everything. But then she started eating the soup, and the warmth from the inside did help immensely. Though her clothes were still damp against her, which were making her continue to shiver.

When Loki returned, he noticed her still shaking.

‘I’ve ran a bath. I have an old robe of mine from when I was a child that might fit you, it might still be a bit large but it will do until your clothing dries by the fire.’ Loki said as he approached her. ‘Can you walk or do you wish for me to carry you through?’

She said nothing and tried to stand herself, but when she got to her feet her legs were like jelly and she almost fell over. But Loki reached out and caught her with his giant hand. He helped her through to the bathroom.

‘I know you don’t know or trust me, but I will need to help you into the bath. I don’t want you to drown in the large tub. You’re also still quite ill so I can’t leave you alone.’

She didn’t particularly care at this point, after being so close to death. She just wanted to get warm again. So she began taking off her clothes.

Loki had to hold in a few gasps when he saw her body. She was covered in bruises and was as thin as a stick, her ribs were showing and there was absolutely no meat on her at all. That’s when he noticed how rather sunken her face was, though she was incredibly beautiful. His heart broke thinking how someone could harm such a beautiful creature.

When she sank into the warm water, she felt better already. Loki tried not to stare at her, even though she was covered by bubbles.

‘How did you end up here? I don’t think we’ve ever had an Asgardian here.’ Loki asked.

‘I… I’m actually half Asgardian half Midgardian. I was born on Asgard, but when my father died, me and my mother were taken into the house of Odin and treated… well, she was a Midgardian. We were treated as we should have been. I am thankful though, Odin kept a roof over my head. Even when mother died too. As long as I did my chores and kept my head down. Though it’s my fault, I made him angry as I failed to clean his horses stable to standard… He banished me here. But I deserved it. It’s my fault. I just have never done stables before, just chambers.’ She shook as she spoke, trying not to speak bad of Odin in fear of repercussion.

Loki narrowed his eyes. ‘Do not stand up for him, I know how horrid he is. How he treats his people. He caused those bruises, didn’t he?’

She nodded.

‘Did he feed you?’

She paused before shaking her head. ‘Not really. A piece of bread every other day when I deserved it.’ She whispered.

Loki bit his tongue, trying not to show his rage.

He stayed silent for the duration of her bath. Once he was happy with her temperature, she was no longer shaking, he took her out of the bath and tried to avert his eyes as he helped to dry her. Then she put on the robe that was indeed a bit big, dragging on the floor. But she made it work.

Loki hung her own tattered clothes up to dry by the fireplace. He then let her rest in his bed.

‘Please, get some sleep.’

‘Thank you…’ She was scared, still untrusting. But she felt deep down that she could relax. That she was ok for now.

Loki left her to rest, he went to speak to his guard outside.

‘I’ve heard of Odin banishing his people or slaves. Even guards and soldiers. I think your father came across a few, actually. That were banished here. Most of the time, they were dead before they were found in the snow.’ His guard said.

‘What did my father do with them?’ Loki raised an eyebrow.

‘He took them back here, let them warm up and then he took them to one of the paths off Jotunheim, to Midgard or Vanaheim.’

‘Right.’ Loki nodded, deep in thought.

‘Is there anything else she needs, My King? Or yourself?’ The guard asked.

‘No, I think that’s all. Thank you.’ Loki nodded.

He quietly went back into his chambers and noticed the girl was asleep. He went and sat by the fireplace to read a book, though he barely turned the pages because his mind was completely elsewhere.

When the girl woke up after a few hours, she felt warmed to the bones and much better. There was a glass of water and fruit on the bedside table. She sat up and stared at it, her mouth began watering at the delicious looking fruits.

‘Go ahead, it’s for you.’ Loki said, startling her slightly. She hadn’t noticed him sitting on a chair not far from her.

She looked at him, then back at the fruit, then at him again. He motioned his head to it. So she didn’t wait any longer and grabbed a few grapes, stuffing them into her mouth before taking some strawberries and then tucking into a peach. It was so juicy and delicious.

Loki got up and slowly walked over to her. He sat down on the edge of the bed by her, the bed dipped quite a bit and she tensed up a little. He really was gigantic in comparison to her. So was all the furniture, her legs dangled down so far from the ground.

‘Are you feeling better?’

‘Yes… Thank you…. Why… Why did you save me? You’re a King… But you’re… Kind.’ She spoke so quietly, like a mouse.

‘I saved you, firstly because I am King. It is my duty to protect people, not only my own people but others in need too. Secondly, I am no monster like you may think. I’ve also been on the receiving end of Odin’s wrath before… And thirdly, it costs nothing to be kind. Why be nasty, it takes up so much energy.’ Loki shrugged.

She frowned a little. He really wasn’t acting like a King. Well, certainly not like Odin was as King, anyway.

‘You’re kind to your maid, too.’ She whispered.

‘Of course. She does a lot for me, as do all the other maids, my guards and soldiers. They are my people, too. I want what is best for them. I want them to be happy under my rule.’

She didn’t say anything else, just kind of looked at Loki in wonder for a bit. Then ate some more fruit and drank the water.

‘I know that Jotunheim might not be the most attractive of realms. But if you’re dressed appropriately and prepared, it can be a beautiful place. I want to offer you the opportunity to stay here, with me… If you so wish to. Or I can give you your freedom, I can take you to one of the hidden paths to another realm. Vanaheim or perhaps Midgard… Wherever you wish to go.’

She was really surprised at that. Not expecting anything else from Loki, she had thought he would just send her out of his castle now she was better.

‘I… I… don’t know… Maybe, Midgard… ’

‘Take some time to think it through.’ Loki said, his heart sinking slightly at her making the decision of wanting to leave so quickly. But then he didn’t expect anything less really, Odin had no doubt drilled into her mind that all Jotuns were monsters.

‘I’ll leave you for a while. I have to tend to my Jordit.’ He said with a nod, then strolled across his chambers and out.

She finished the fruit and then climbed down from the bed. She went over to her clothes and found they were dry. Though the thought of putting on those rags made her stomach sink. But she had nothing else, so she took off Loki’s old robe and put on her old clothing. Even her boots were falling apart.

Her mind was racing with what Loki had said. Though she knew it would be best just to get away from here. She had almost died in the snow after all. She couldn’t stay here. Surrounded by… monsters? Even her parents had told her horror stories about Jotuns as a child.

But then… why were they acting the complete opposite? And the castle she was in, it was like an ordinary castle in Asgard or any other realm, it wasn’t even made of ice like she had been told stories of.

She went over to the doors and managed to push one open, it was really heavy with how large it was. As she stepped outside, there was a giant guard right there, staring down at her. She looked up at him, terrified.

But he smiled a bit, which put her at ease slightly.

‘If you’re looking for Loki, he’s just in the next room.’ He motioned to the right with his spear.

She nodded quickly and scurried away from the guard and went towards the room he’d said. The door was slightly open, so she was able to just slide inside. She stopped just inside the door, eyes wide at what she saw.

Loki was with the Jordit. Such a strange creature she had never seen before. But it was lying down and Loki was brushing its long fur.

‘There we go, that must feel better. I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner after our ride out. I know how your fur gets so tangled from the wet.’ Loki apologised to her.

The Jordit turned her head and licked his hand, making Loki chuckle. He put the brush down once he was done and stroked behind her ear. But then she perked her head up and her ears twitched as she looked over at the door, where the girl was stood.

‘Ah. Are you ok?’ Loki asked as he walked over towards the girl. His Jordit followed behind him.

‘I… I think so.’ She nodded.

‘This is my Jordit, she might look a little scary but she won’t harm you if you are no threat.’ Loki reached back and patted her neck.

The Jordit growled a little at the girl, unsure of her.

‘She’s beautiful.’ The girl said in slight awe, fear was there of course but with respect. She could tell she was a powerful animal. But she was a magnificent creature, there was no denying that.

The Jordit made a chirping noise instead of a growl, making Loki chuckle.

‘Yes, you’re beautiful. Everyone knows it.’ He said to her, making the girl smile at how he was acting with the animal.

‘She can be a bit big headed.’ He whispered to the girl with a smirk. The Jordit growled in a playful manner and butted Loki with her head, just avoiding him with her horn.

The girl giggled a bit, and Loki thought it was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard.

‘I guess you are wanting to head to Midgard?’ He asked with a cough to clear his throat.

‘I uhm… I was wondering maybe if I could stay here instead? Just for a little while… Till I get my strength up, perhaps? If that offer is still on.’ She asked quickly, her cheeks heating up a bit.

‘Of course. We’d love for you to stay.’ Loki grinned widely.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #beautiful creatures #Jotun Loki #frost giant Loki #Prompt #one shot

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thebadphilosopher · 2 months ago

Text

The Hill

Part of the @creators-club 24 days of Christmas writing event.

As Christian reached the top of the snowy hill, he wondered how long it would take for his nose to freeze off. The wind was too strong. It had almost taken his hair off. While he had no gloves or hat or heavy coat for that matter, it was the lack of a scarf that was starting to weigh on his mind - and nose.

At home, Christian had one long, purple wool scarf which was knitted for him by his mother. It was a very nice scarf, and it took her almost a month. Of course, he had claimed he didn't need it when he went out that morning. How stupid could he be?

And the food, oh the food! The warm chicken noodle soup with fresh chicken waiting at home that his father had made in the fancy, stainless steel pot given to his mother for Christmas that was only brought out two months of the year. Warm chicken noodle soup and hot rolls with melted butter.

He covered his red nose with his hand and groaned. If he could just have a taste of that soup, letting the warm liquid run through his body, he could get through the rest of the night. Christian flopped back and closed his eyes, letting the soft snow fall onto his lashes. It had been long enough for him to take a deep breath and shout "Hannah?" to the midnight void.

"Christiannnn!"

Opening one eye, Christian could see Hannah as she climbed the other side of the hill, dragging their wooden sled to the top. The tiny child was also not dressed for the occasion, though based the red glow around her face, she was perfectly content.

"Yeah yeah," Hannah replied. "It's no fun if you don't want to go."

Christian scoffed. "I'm too cold."

"Oh come on, it's one ride. Please?" She pushed the sled towards him, but Christian shoved it back.

"No," Christian muttered back. "I'm hungry and cold and want to go home."

Hannah rolled her eyes and flopped down next to him. "You're no fun."

Their breaths hung in the air longer than usual, dancing amongst the snowfall. If the moon was out it would be a much prettier sight but only the few stars in the sky gave any inkling of life for the two.

Christian stood up and grabbed the end of the rope. "Alright, let's go."

"One more time."

"No."

"Pleaseee?"

"No!"

Hannah huffed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a very tiny headband with reindeer antlers. Shoving it onto Christian's head, she took a step back and smiled. "Fine. I'll be Santa."

Christian rolled his eyes as Hannah hopped onto the sled. The two started to make their way down the hill. It was always a lot harder than he expected. Shoes, no matter how many treads were on the bottom, were no match when you were trekking downhill through powdery snow.

As Hannah shouted with glee and some profanity she definitely picked up from the relatives on Christmas Eve, Christian closed his eyes. The warm soup floated by and if he could just reach out and take some, maybe his body would be less cold.

"Christian?"

"What?"

"I want to go again."

Christian sighed. "We're almost home. Maybe tomorrow."

"Why can't I go again?"

"We're going home this time," Christian muttered. There was no verbal response, just a huff from Hannah.

Christian kept walking as the snow seemed to grow deeper and deeper, almost going up to his knees. He was going faster too now, the weight from dragging getting easier after so many minutes. Or was it hours? He licked his lips, the taste of chicken right on the edge. If he could just have some of that warmth, he wouldn't be so cold now.

"Christiannnnnn!"

Turning around, it took Christian longer than it should've to realize that there was no one in the sled. Actually, there was no sled. He had been pulling nothing. Somehow, Hannah had taken the wooden slats and run back up the large hill. The small, shadowed figure waved from the top.

"I'm going again!"

Christian sighed and watched as she disappeared down the other side. Finally, the moon decided to make an appearance, and he saw the two pairs of tracks running back and forth, back and forth up and down the hill. Despite the snowfall all this time, their footprints hadn't been completely filled in yet. Good. Maybe he didn't have to struggle the way back up this time.

#creators club #cc24DaysofChristmas #writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #writing challenge #writing prompts #holiday writing prompts #writers #writing #flash fiction #mywriting

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sugarmapl · 2 years ago

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wooo I've never done this before and I don't really have that good ideas but I still wanna try this :3 how about a jealous kazuscara one. Its up to you if you want to make it suggestive or not, but like imagine since kazuha is very friendly and nice with everyone one day scara gets jealous about it. Like in his usual 'scoff brush it off' kind of way but he does feel a little insecure about it and then kazuha comforts and reassures him (and also doesn't forget to tease him abt hjsdhgfk) stay safe love!!!! <3

This was a great idea, thank you so much @silentlydying ! I hope this is similar to what you were looking for, and thanks for requesting! :)

it’s a little over 1,000 words; mostly fluff with some minor hurt/comfort and humor! (poor heizou got dragged into it as well, but he’s just so flirty with everyone)

stay safe, and i hope you enjoy!! <3

Sometimes Scara forgot that Kazuha was from the present Inazuma, and therefore it made sense that he had friends still living within the country. All of Scara’s friends in Inazuma were long gone, so he merely accompanied Kazuha around the islands, greeting people here and there that recognized the infamous samurai.

It was always kind of awkward. Of course, no one would recognize Scara anymore, but the uncomfortable sensation of being back in his homeland never got any easier. Then add in the fact that Scara usually had to stand around like a third wheel while Kazuha met up with all his old friends, and Inazuma was securely at the bottom of the list of Scara’s favorite places to visit.

Though these days Scara took up the mantle of a wanderer, in truth it was a title that applied to the both of them. They often spent their days wandering from one destination to another, no end goal in mind. It was nice.

Except for on days like today, when Scara had to stand to the side while Kazuha met with a detective in Inazuma City. The redhead had called on Kazuha to assist with a case he was working on, and naturally Scara had also tagged along.

He just didn’t expect the detective to be so… flirty. Why was he so touchy? And the way he spoke so sensual? And why was he so damn pretty!? It was really pissing Scara off. He wasn’t normally the jealous type, but wasn’t the guy being way too overly familiar?

He felt his blood pressure rise with every touch and every lilted word. Scara had been standing some distance away for a while now, but he couldn’t watch any more. He stormed off to clear his head. Whatever. It’s not like Kazuha was paying him any attention anyway. He probably wouldn’t even notice Scara was gone.

The puppet walked and walked, taking in the landscape of his homeland that had once been familiar a long time ago. Though it was the land of eternity and hardly ever changed, it felt so different to him. He found a random hill and sat down, looking out over the waves and observing the sun as it slowly inched towards the horizon.

It would have been nice to watch the sunset with Kazuha, he found himself thinking bitterly. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he left. Time slipped through the puppet’s fingers just like a lot of other things tended to. Would Kazuha also be another one of those things?

As he was contemplating, he heard the crunch of footsteps through the dry grass, and knew instantly that Kazuha had come. The samurai could move as quietly as the breeze if he wanted to, but he was purposely making his presence known to Scara as he approached. Still, Scara refused to look up at him even as he felt the weight of Kazuha’s body plop down next to him.

They sat in silence for a while. Scara could feel those scarlet eyes on him, but his own never left the glowing sky. He was still mad. Sure, it was stupid, and maybe even childish, but he wanted Kazuha to know that he was upset. And if Kazuha didn’t care, it was easier and better to push him away in advance.

But most of him was sure that the samurai would immediately apologize and try to placate him. Scara didn’t like to brag (yes he did), but he had Kazuha pretty much wrapped around his finger. He would say sorry, Scara would act upset for a little bit longer, and then they would inevitably make up (which was Scara’s favorite part).

However, when Kazuha spoke it was entirely different from what he had expected.

“You’ll be happy to know we solved the case.”

Scara was dumbfounded. Was Kazuha actually that dumb, or that cold? He likely knew why the other was upset, and that’s what he chose to say to him?

The puppet threw his plan out the window. He gave up his indifference and turned to look at the samurai in astonishment, but when he saw the wide smirk on Kazuha’s face he realized that he’d been played. Kazuha had known just what to say to get Scara to look at him and acknowledge his presence, and it worked.

“You are such an ass,” Scara retorted.

He shoved Kazuha so that he fell on his side, and the samurai burst out laughing. Eventually, Kazuha caught his breath and righted himself again, poking a finger into Scara’s pouting cheek.

“You like to act tough, but you’re so easy to read,” he teased.

“Whatever. I hate you. Just go back to playing detective,” Scara grumbled, pushing his hand away.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so cute when you’re grumpy,” the samurai said.

He was smiling so wide it almost made Scara want to smile back, but he stopped himself. He still hadn’t apologized for what Scara wanted him to. He practically left him alone all day!

“Shut up,” Scara snapped.

“Okay, okay. I’m really sorry for today, I didn’t mean to leave you out. I just really wanted to help Heizou solve his case, and I might have gotten distracted,” Kazuha explained.

“Was all that flirting really crucial to solving the case?” Scara asked sarcastically.

“Flirting?” Kazuha questioned, genuinely sounding confused.

“You were practically hanging off each other the whole time! And why does he talk to you like that? It clearly sounded like he was trying to seduce you,” Scara ranted.

Kazuha stared at him blankly for a moment. “I… really didn’t notice any of that. I think Heizou is just like that.”

“You’re trying to say he acts that way with everyone?” Scara asked skeptically.

“Yeah, pretty much. I should have noticed it bothered you though, so I’ll make sure he tones it down in the future,” Kazuha promised.

Scara was still stunned. What is wrong with that detective? Who acts like that!? But Kazuha was looking at him so earnestly in that moment that Scara knew he was telling the truth.

“Ugh, now I just feel stupid,” Scara groaned, exasperated.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms. He had definitely made a fool out of himself. Now Kazuha probably thought he was a possessive dumbass!

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not stupid,” Kazuha said soothingly.

Scara felt a hand beginning to rub comforting circles up and down his back while another one pried his face up from his arms.

“Look at me,” Kazuha instructed him gently, placing his fingers under Scara’s chin to make the other meet his eyes. “You are the only one I want to flirt with.”

“That is so lame,” the puppet responded, but he was smiling cheekily now. “Are we at the part where we make up yet?”

Kazuha smiled back at him, eyes full of adoration before something dark flashed in them briefly. “We can be.”

Then, he dove in for a kiss.

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin fluff #kazuscara #fanfic request #genshin kazuha #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin kazuscara

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cynicalone94 · 11 months ago

Text

Left For Dead

Read on AO3 here.

Jay walks out of the grocery store.

He and Hailey don’t usually have a lot of time to do their grocery shopping which means that they tend to stick to late night runs on the way home from work.

Tonight’s his turn.

“Hey man.” a guy calls out, and he turns to see a man walking toward him with an uneven gait. “You spare a couple bucks?”

Jay groans internally.

It’s so hard to know when these people legitimately need his help and when they’re just looking for their next fix.

The unsteady gait could be a sign that he’s intoxicated but it could also be a host of medical issues.

He shifts his keys to his left hand with the bags and reaches for his wallet.

The sharp stab of pain in his lower back catches him off guard.

He looks back to see a knife sticking out of his side, the hilt still encased in the man’s hand.

“What…”

A van screeches up next to them, the door flying open and then Jay is being shoved into the back.

He cries out as he hits the floor of the van and the knife shifts.

And then he’s being rolled onto his stomach and the blade is ripped out.

He screams but they just grab his head, slamming his face against the floor.

His arms are jerked up behind his back and secured with a zip tie.

What the hell is going on?

“W-what do… you want?” he chokes out.

“Nothing from you.”

Before he can attempt another question, they press duct tape over his mouth.

Then a knee is pressing into his back, keeping him down.

He’s closed his eyes, trying to tone down the nausea that the movement of the vehicle is uncharacteristically causing him, when he feels the van slow.

And hears the door slide open. And then he’s being moved.

He opens his eyes, looking around in alarm and scrambling to try to find something to hold onto.

Trying to kick their hands away.

But it’s a hard fight in close quarters with his hands tied.

And then he’s airborne.

He hits the ground with force on a slope, crashing and tumbling all the way down to the bottom.

When he finally comes to a stop he can just lie there for a while, gasping for breath.

Everything hurts and it takes a long moment before he can zero in on anything in particular.

Ribs, right shoulder, left leg, lower back, and head. Everything else is minor.

But he’s losing a lot of blood from that stab wound and he needs help, now.

He looks around, seeing nothing but pitch darkness. He knows there’s a hill to his right, knows if he can just get to the top of it, there’s a road.

And if he can get to that road, he can get help, can flag down a car.

But he also remembers how long he’d spent tumbling down that very hill.

And he has to get out of these zip ties before he can even really try.

Every move as he searches for something he can use to cut himself free takes his breath away but he finds something and manages to saw through the plastic.

He rolls onto his back, lifting his shirt to try to feel at the stab wound on his side.

He tries to pull his shirt off, hoping he can bandage it to slow the bleeding but his shoulder won’t cooperate.

Giving up on that, he rolls back onto his stomach and starts crawling up the hill, dragging himself inch by painful inch with only the use of his left arm.

“Jay doesn’t just not answer his phone, Sarge.” Hailey says and he can practically hear her pacing.

“No. He wouldn’t.” he agrees. “How long?”

“He went to the store after work.” she says. “I expected him to be home by eleven, we hit quarter after I started calling.”

It’s just short of midnight now which means Jay has been missing for over an hour, with the possibility of an hour and a half.

“What store?”

“Danny’s market.” she tells him. “It’s the only place close to our drive home that’s open that late. We take turns stopping to restock essentials when days off get farther and farther apart.”

“Well even they’re closed by now.” he tells her. “I can try to drag the owners out of bed to get access to the cameras but we don’t even know if he made it to the store.”

“I can check traffic cams.” Hailey offers. “Maybe get eyes on the truck and see if he did make it that far.”

“And maybe get eyes on any vehicles that were in the area at the time he would have been.” Voight says. “I have a CI I want to check in with. He’s got the pulse on the neighborhood and might know something.”

“Okay.” she says, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

“We’ll find him.” he promises before ending the call.

But Tanner doesn’t know anything about the abduction of a cop in the neighborhood and Hailey’s search of the cameras doesn’t turn up anything.

She can get a single glimpse of Jay’s truck approaching the store but there wasn’t a single other vehicle that passed the traffic cameras within the thirty minute window afterward.

Without getting access to the store cameras they’re dead in the water and Jay’s already been missing for nearly three hours.

His phone rings and he looks down, expecting to see Hailey’s name on the screen.

But instead he gets Jay’s.

“Halstead?”

“He’s already dead.” a voice says coldly. “But I thought you might like to recover the body before the animals get to it. Get a clear look at the cost of your actions.”

“Where is he?” he demands.

“Old Route 66 where it goes through Douglas Park. Near the tennis courts.”

The call ends and he scrambles back to his car, contemplating whether or not to call Hailey.

If whoever this is is telling the truth and Jay’s already dead, maybe she shouldn’t be there when he finds the body.

He parks next to the tennis courts, drawing his weapon and starting the search.

It’s miles more specific than he’d had an hour ago but its still a lot of ground to cover.

He reaches a hill, spotting disrupted brush and following it down the hill. Halfway down, he sees a glimpse of boots in the beam of his flashlight.

Hurrying toward them, he drops to his knees, pressing his fingers into the side of Jay’s throat.

The pulse isn’t as strong as he would like but it’s still there.

He calls for an ambulance and rolls Jay onto his back.

“Jay?”

To his surprise, eyes flicker open.

He wouldn’t say that Jay is conscious and completely with it but he’s definitely not dead.

“It’s okay, kid.” he says gently, searching for injuries.

He finds the stab wound on Jay’s lower left side and presses his hand over it.

“Just keep breathing.” he urges. “Stay with me, kid.”

Jay is more of less still with him when the ambulance arrives and sticks it out through the ride to Med.

Hailey rushes up to him in the waiting room, staring at Jay as he’s wheeled past him.

“What happened?”

“I got a call.” he says. “With a location.”

“And you didn’t call me?” she demands. “What you didn’t think I should be there?”

“No.” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“They said he was already dead.” he tells her. “You didn’t need to be there if that was the case.”

“But he’s still…” she trails off.

“He hung in there the whole way here.” Voight tells her. “And who knows how long out on that hill. Don’t give up on him yet.”

She sinks into a chair.

A few hours later they’re sitting on either side of Jay’s bed, watching him sleep.

The stab wound had come close to serious damage that would have caused him to bleed out long before Voight had arrived but luckily the wielder of the knife had missed their target.

The repair had been easy and once they can replenish his blood volume he should make a full recovery.

He has other injuries, ones that Voight suspects had come from being thrown down that hill.

A broken ankle, dislocated shoulder, broken ribs and a concussion are all painful but also expected to heal.

But that doesn’t mean that Voight won’t be visiting some serious pain on whoever had done this to him.

The suggestion that this was revenge for something that he’d done in the past is the only lead he has right now.

“Don’t worry kid.” he says, leaning down. “I’ll find the bastards who did this to you.”

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday27 #left for dead #jay halstead #chicago pd #whump fic

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links-in-time · 10 months ago

Text

Links in Time : The Beginning of Something

Part 10

"What do you mean he just took off?" Maari asked, flabbergasted by Time's behaviour.

"I mean he just took off!" Wars replied, as they walked back to the little camp. "He said, 'stay here, I won't be long.' And just walked off without another word!"

"Can your friend look after himself?" Gartan asked, following the three youngsters as they approached his camp.

"Time? He can take care of himself just fine usually. But I don't think the fella's thinkin straight right now." Twilight responded, scratching the back of his head as he thought.

"Someone should go and make sure he's alright," Wars decided, as they rejoined the others.

"Good you found them, Time is..." Sky began, a worried expression darkening his face.

"We know." Maari interpreted. "I'll go after him."

"You sure? You and he don't exactly have the best rapport right now," Wars warned.

"I know, but I think that's why I should go. I've been too short tempered with him and he didn't deserve that. I need to make it up to him. Besides, I know a bit more about this place that he might want to know."

It was decided that Warriors and Twilight would accompany Maari to the ruined Temple of Time in case they encountered any trouble. They left most of their gear behind, taking only their weapons before heading off. It didn't take them long to hurry out of the woods and make their way towards the ruins at the bottom of the hill.

The Temple of Time still stood at the top of the small hill, surrounded by ruined buildings, crumbling staircases and smashed statues. A sense of grandure and of a time long past hung around what was left of the buildings. Bones of dead monsters and broken weapons also littered the ground. Nothing recent however, meaning that Time hadn't be assaulted on his way through.

"Come on, he can't be far ahead of us," Maari urged, picking up speed as she began to climb the first steps. The two young men followed, swords drawn and shields up in case of trouble.

At the top of the hill Twi looked back and whistled as he took in the view of Hyrule behind him.

"You don't often get a view like that!"

The others paused to look as well. Maari silently agreed, it was a very good view. She could almost make out the outline of death mountain in the distance. Almost all of Hyrule was spread out before them. The thing she had wanted to explore more than anything. Yet here she was babysitting an ancient hero.

There was no door to the temple and hardly much of a frame either. Much of the walls and ceilings had collapsed and been reclaimed by mother nature many decades ago. At the far end of the long chamber, a goddess statue stood imposingly, towering over everything. Time was standing at the feet of the statue, gazing up into her stone eyes. Maari and the others entered quietly but not silently. They didn't want to spook or surprise their friend. They were halfway towards him when he spoke.

"Have I been gone too long? I didn't mean to worry anyone," he sighed. Time didn't look behind him, he simply stared at the statue with his good eye.

"We just wanted to check you were okay," Twi insisted. Of course his prodigy had come.

"We thought you might have come to see the temple," Maari added. Time was surprised to hear her voice. "I thought you might like to hear what I know about it."

"Ha! What could a green horn child like you know about this place? Other than its afront to our lord and master!" A scratchy voice cackled out of nowhere.

Maari drew her katana while the two men behind her raised their swords and shields. It was at this moment that Maari realised Time was unarmed. He had apparently left his longsword at the camp. Time was still wearing quite a bit of armour but he had nothing to defend himself with. A cackle of laughter drew Maari's attention back to the statue where a Yiga soldier appeared in a swirl of red runes. Wielding a short duplex bow, they aimed at the three by the door. Wars and Twi raised their shields to protect themselves and Maari. In a flash the Yiga was gone again.

"Someone needs to protect Time, he doesn't have a weapon!" Maari stressed, pointing at Time until the others were on the same page.

"I've got him," Twi replied, charging forwards. Ready to throw himself between Time and any oncoming threats.

"You and I can take care of the Yiga," Maari said to Wars.

"I thought they were too tough?" He asked, a little unsure.

The Yiga reappeared close to Time. Before Twilight could reach him the Yiga fired three arrows. A prism of brilliant blue light expanded around Time in the blink of an eye. The arrows bounced off limply, but Twilight wasn't about to trust any shield but his own in that moment.

"Well, maybe you can show me how you earned the title Captain?" Maari teased, even shooting Wars a wink.

Maari and Wars had to trust that Twi would protect himself and Time, as two more Yiga materialised. Stepping out of their portals they slashed their weapons through the air. One held a hideous Deamon cleaver, the other clutched a pair of sickles. Maari scoffed at their unrefined and uncivilised weapons. She would enjoy taking away their toys.

Wars blocked a powerful strike from the cleaver while Maari hooked her katana beneath the sickles. Keeping a good grip she flicked her weapon and sent one of the sickles flying to who knew where. The Yiga looked momentarily stunned and Maari used the hesitation to press her advantage. She thrust forwards, but the Yiga recovered and dashed her sword off course. Maari swerved to avoid colliding with Wars who was battling only a few feet away.

"You good?" He asked.

"Yeah, won't be a minute," she replied, before returning to her enemy.

The Yiga swished their blade in front of them, taunting Maari to make a move. She glanced around, looking for any advantage. Some fallen debris to her left looked promising. She fainted right then dashed left, leaping up the broken maisonary. Slashing once she drew a long strike across the Yiga's back. With a cry of pain they fell face first into the grass. Maari put an end to the noise by plunging her blade into the Yiga's back.

Looking up Maari watched Wars slash a large wound into the Yiga's side. The battle half lost, they summoned a portal and disappeared. At last they both turned to see Time and Twilight fending off the Yiga with the bow. Twi had grown impatient. He couldn't defend Time and attack at the same time when his attacker had range and he did not. Finally he couldn't take it any longer. He waited for the Yiga to reload and chose a new vantage point. Then he pounced forwards, transforming as he lunged through the air and crashed into the Yiga. Twi's enormous jaws encompassed the Yiga's head, ripping off the mask and snapping their neck. Blood ran down his jowls as he turned to look at Time, still safe inside his prism.

"Good boy," Time teased.

The wolf managed to raise an eyebrow at him before turning back into their Rancher.

"Yeah, yeah. Next time you want to go wandering off down memory lane, make sure you take your sword Old Man." Twi berated his mentor.

"I know, I wasn't thinking clearly," Time admitted, sinking to the ground and sitting on the steps of the alter.

His shield dropped around him as the others approached, cleaning and sheathing their weapons.

"You both okay?" Wars asked, giving them both cursory glances to check for wounds.

"We're good. Could have been a lot worse though," Twi insisted. "Someone doesn't usually have to resort to using magic to defend himself."

"I know, I know. Come on give me a break guys," Time pleaded, looking into the eyes of his companions. When they met Maari's he sighed. "Sorry, that was stupid and insensitive of me."

"Maari, I'm sorry put so little trust in you. When you set out on this journey you trusted us to protect you no questions asked. But I couldn't do the same for you. It's taken me a long time to learn to put my faith in other people. These boys helped me see that." Time ruffled Twi's hair as he sat beside his mentor. "But if they've taught me anything it's that friends can be found in the unlikelyest of places. I admire your willingness to help us on this mission Maari. Althoguh I do think you are perhaps a little inexperienced, you have more than shown me your abilities. You have my thanks and my apology." Time bowed his head in her direction and waited.

Time sighed and Maari crossed her arms, waiting.

Maari let a moment pass before she stepped forwards and placed a hand on Time's shoulder. He looked up at her crimson eyes looking down at him.

"I'm greatful. The others all look up to you and I know how much they all respect you. Your faith in me is much appreciated Link." Maari replied, giving him a greatful smile.

Time nodded and smiled in return. He patted Maari's hand and she let go.

"There was something I wanted to show you," she said, moving past Time towards the statue. "Paya showed me a book once filled with tales of the legendary hero of the Age of Time. There was an engraving inside showing the statue and several carvings. I think if we look down here and scrape off this moss..."

Maari used the handle of one of her daggers to scrape back the moss and ivy which clung to the base of the Goddess statue. As she worked she began to reveal an image carved into the base of the statue. A figure was depicted, riding a horse, wielding an enormous trident. Beside this image was another. A smaller figure depicted in a tunic and pointed hat. In one hand he held what was clearly the master sword, but in the other he held a small round object.

"Zelda's ocarina," Time breathed, as he looked at the carving. He reached out and touched it ever so gently with his fingertips. "I wouldn't have thought they would add it in. Most people just talk about the battle."

"But there was so much more to it than that wasn't there. You didn't just defeat Ganondorf with a sword. I'm not sure exactly how the ocarina worked but the tales say it held immense power and helped the hero unite the great sages."

Time nodded, enchanted by the image.

"You were so small," Twi mused. "I'm so used to seeing you the way you are now. I always forget you were so young when you started out."

"I was younger than our young pirate was when he set out on his adventures," Time uttered. His attention moving back to his friends. He looked around the ruined temple, a shade of what it had once been in his time. He thought he might go back and see it if he got back to his era. When he got back to his era. He corrected himself. After all he had a very special someone waiting for him at home.

***

"You found our brave leader then?" Legend observed as the three men and Maari walked back into camp.

Dusk was drawing close and no more Yiga had approached them as they had left the temple grounds. Maari didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. The fact that they had been attacked at all meant they were still watching these lands. She explained what had happened to her brother and father while the boys chatted together.

"I think I've got something," Wild suddenly announced, drawing everyone's attention.

They gathered around the fire and drew close to listen to Wild. He held the Purah Pad and the Yiga notebook in his hands.

"I figured out how to take pictures of the notebook and send them to Purah and Paya. They received the pictures and managed to decipher some of the code."

This revelation was followed by cheers of 'brilliant', 'amazing', and 'wonders never cease', from the rest of the gang. Wild continued.

"They haven't had time to decode much and I haven't sent them the whole notebook. But from what they could read it said this, 'next trial due on the new moon. All scouts are to report back to base for new orders. The Commander seems sure the experiment will work this time. We've been sent to some old hideout from the upheaval days. Just some supplies the Sargent wants recovered. Sounds like a waste of time and soldiers if you ask me.' It goes on, but the rest of the page they decoded isn't relevant."

"This is someone's diary!" Wind exclaimed, jumping to his feet with excitement.

"Not just anyone's, this was a Yiga soldiers diary!" Karu pointed out.

"There could be weeks worth of secret information in there," Legend chimed in, taking the book from Wild's hands and turning it over in his own slender fingers.

"Could be more ramblings from a disgruntled Yiga soldier," Sky added.

"Possibly," Gartan agreed, nodding sagely, though he sounded more optemistic than he let on. "Can you get more of it translated?" He asked Wild.

"I can keep sending Paya more pages and see if she can decode anything more interesting." He replied with a nod.

"Wouldn't Zelda be able to translate it too?" Wars asked, nudging Wild.

"Well, possibly." Wild hesitated, scratching the back of his neck while he stared at nothing in particular. "I mean she's probably very busy and we're already on our way to ask her about a different problem. We really shouldn't ask too much of her."

Maari thought it was odd the way Wild talked about Zelda. She thought they were good friends. After the calamity she and Wild had visited Kakariko many times and they always seemed to be in the best of spirits. Zelda liked to tease Wild and he would humour her. Maari could barely remember a time when she hadn't seen them together. Something had clearly changed between them if Wild was so apprehensive about going to visit Zelda in Gerudo Town.

Armed with new clues about her mother's whareabouts and some unexpected information about what the Yiga might be planning, Maari laid down to sleep that night with a renewed sense of purpose.

< Part 9 : Part 11 >

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