#i wanna haul buckets of feed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luckbealincoln · 1 year ago

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omgg u stay feeding us. but 60 and 221 give me such din vibes like… not being able to resist the need to provide. Anyways lovely chapter as always, continue doing ur magic bae🫶

Going Through The Motions

pairing : din djarin x f!mechanic!reader

word count : 1.4k

summary : mando visits you regularly for "ship maintenance." you know what to expect at this point.

warnings, etc : smut, light angst, masturbation, floor sex, fwb!mando, p in v sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, mando has weird dirty talk, the helmet stays on, creampie, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you REALLY squint, definietly an unhealthy relationship, mando is over protective but also refuses to commit lmao, toxic relationship

a/n : i uhhhhh took a lot of liberties with this request lmao, but i loved writing this little blurb (i made this strangely sad?? it sort of happened naturally lmao), it's nice to write a slightly different version of din than what i normally do, enjoy and i hope you like it !! :) this is my first time taking requests or posting anything that isn't bks so I'd love feedback!!

“I shouldn’t allow myself to get so close to you.” He murmurs in your ear as your back slams against the side of the exterior of the Crest. It’s a funny thing for him to say when his erection is pressed against your hip.

“You say that everytime you come around.” Your fingers find the familiar notches in his armor as you begin to hastily tug at them.

“And I mean it everytime.” His hands find purchase on your thighs as he yanks you upwards, you’ve danced this dance dozens of times at this point, everytime he stops in for maintenance on his rust-bucket of a ship you two do this. He mumbles something about it being the last time and you laugh it off, knowing it’s never true.

This time there wasn’t even anything wrong with his ship.

You’d done a full sweep, double checked everything, not a single thing was out of place.

It was probably cold in space. Maybe he just got lonely.

He hauls you into the ship, your legs wrapped around his waist. He’s punching numbers into a keypad and the main door is shutting with a creak.

Where will he decide to take you this time?

Most of the time he just pressed you up against a wall or tossed you into his cot. Sometimes if he was feeling patient you’d get all the way to the cockpit. Once he’d done you on top of a few boxes he was transporting.

This time he doesn’t get more than a few steps before he’s laying you down on the floor.

This is new. Someone's feeling impatient.

He’s hastily tugging down the zipper on his flight suit while your hands find the buttons on your overalls, his visor is trained on your figure as you manage to shimmy out of the denim, tossing it aside. He crawls forward on his knees, already stroking himself, hovering above you, his gloves discarded off to the side.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him. His free hand grabs the hem of your panties, shredding them like paper as he tosses the thin fabric behind you.

“Dickhead! I’m running out of underwear, you have to stop that.” You slap his shoulder but he only chuckles.

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

“You say that every time too.” You're unclasping your bra, setting it down next to you before he gets a chance to destroy that too.

“I will this time, promise.” He gasps softly, letting his thumb slide over the ruddy tip of his cock. His freehand is spreading your thighs open. “Touch yourself, I wanna see.”

“So bossy.” You mutter as you let your hands roam down your body before settling between your legs. Dipping your fingers into your already pooling wetness before circling your clit, slow and steady strokes.

“That’s good… good girl, want my fingers?” His tone is light and teasing as he pushes two fingers into your mouth before you answer. No sense in protesting, you’ll be begging him for this eventually, why wait. Your tongue wraps around them as best as possible, coating them in saliva. Once he’s satisfied he brings them between your legs. “Keep touching that pretty little clit while I do this.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” He sinks his fingers into your cunt as you continue your own ministrations, a familiar wave of pleasure washing over you.

“My sweet thing. Look so pretty like this, on the floor of my ship, wanna keep you right here, make you feel this good all the time.” Your back arches against him, almost to prove his point.

He always talks like this.

In the moment he’s always so possessive, always says such preposterous things, promises and offers of a life together. The first time, when the words had slipped out a sense of hope had bubbled in your chest, a palpable joy that you were finally gonna get off this backwater planet.

You had cried yourself silly when he had left an hour later without a word.

He had left and he had taken his empty promises with him.

Then he came back, and that time you let him say what you assume he needs to say to get off. The sex was good so why change the dynamic. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

Speaking of good sex, you’re snapped out of your thoughts by your climax. It’s sudden and he practically forces itself out of you as he curls his fingers, stroking that spot inside of you as you ride out your orgasm. Once he’s satisfied he withdraws his digits, spreading your wetness across his length before notching himself at your entrance.

“Do you want this, sweet thing? Want me to fill you up?” There’s that gravely desperation you’re used to.

You’d love to ask what the deal with that is.

His hopeless need to be wanted.

He was always like this. Like clockwork, at first you thought that it must have just been another thing he needed to get off. Then it became deeper than that.

“You need me, tell me- fuck- tell me you need me, please sweet thing.”

“What?” You had mumbled through your haze as he rocked his hips into you.

“Tell me how badly you need me. I’ll take care of you, you just have to tell me.”

It’s strange. You’ve already gotten off more than enough times and he had never been one to overstimulate you, he was always generous to the point of comfort, never more.

That’s what this relationship was about.

Comfort and getting off. It was never about necessity or obligation.

“I-I need you.” You stammer out, still a little confused.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He gasps out, pulling out to finish on your stomach.

That was the first time he had held you afterwards. Wrapped you up in his arms and whispered to you. Told you he would keep you safe, make sure you were okay, and most importantly, that as long as he was around that you would be cared for.

He was gone within the hour.

Now this was the routine.

He needed to be needed.

And even though it hurt to give him the first few times, (that gnawing pain you had the first time he had made promises was back.) you got used to this too.

“Lost in thought, sweetie?” He brings you back to reality. Your eyes settle on his helmet.

“Sorry… I need you Mando, please.” He needs to hear it, and you don’t mind saying it, to an extent.

You do need him, you don’t get out enough because you’re always working. He’s one of the only people you get to talk to.

Those words spur him on, he sinks himself into your heat, your moans whiny and breathy.

“Fuck- I know, I know you need this, you need me, my sweetheart, needs me to take care of them.”

“Y-yes, Mando, need you…” His thrusts immediately pick up, he maintains a brutal pace as he continues his ramblings. Demanding your praise.

After a few minutes his thrusts start getting sloppier.

“Want me to finish inside?” He’s panting frantically, his hands grip your waist to slam you into him. “Want me to fill you up?”

Why not, you can buy a pill tomorrow.

“Yes, I need it, please Mando I need you to cum inside me.” You squeak out, that’s all it takes. You finish one more time before he buries himself completely in your cunt, his seed spills out between the two of you.

He collapses in a heap on top of you, the both of you panting in unison.

He goes through the motions, you’re used to the motions.

He holds you against him, rolling over so you’re on top. His fingers play with your hair aimlessly as he mumbles some sort of praise you don’t catch.

And he’s gone within the hour.

You’re standing in the shop in your overalls, watching the Crest until it disappears completely.

★

A few more moons pass. Days come and go. You don’t expect to see him again for a few months, he normally wouldn’t stop by until he had finished several bounties, or if his ship was in desperate need of repair. So it’s a bit shocking when a week passes and the Razor Crest is landing in your shipyard again.

You wipe a bit of grease from your hands with a loose rag, brushing your hair out of your face once the engines shut off. The main door hisses before slowly lowering to the ground. He stands at the top of the entrance, walking towards you, tossing you a package wrapped in a paper bag. You cock an eyebrow at him, he’s standing next to you by the time you tear it open.

12 Pack : Cotton Panties.

This isn’t part of the motions.

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin/reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut

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fandoms-writings · 3 years ago

Text

Something Domestic - Seven

Pairing: ex-military amputee!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: You teach Bucky how to ride, and he gives you some advice he’s learned from his therapist.

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: Not much honestly. Reader talks about her mom a bit, and Bucky talks about his sisters. It’s really a lot of fluff with a hint of angst. Just the calm before they have to talk to their respective family members.

Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist

You woke the next day to find the spot where Bucky had been with his pinky in yours barren. The covers were pulled up to cover the empty space but when you reached out to touch the sheets, you could still feel the warmth he left. You looked around to find you were the only one left in the bed, even Bruno and Alpine had followed Bucky out to wherever he was hiding.

You hauled yourself out of bed, stretching your arms above your head, willing the sleepiness out of your muscles as you turned to the window that overlooked the back field. You leaned against the wall and pulled the curtain back to see Bucky walking the horses out of the barn, Bruno happily following at his feet and Alpine playing in the pile of leaves near the fence.

A gentle smile crossed your face as you watched Bucky lead the horses out, patting them on their necks before going back to the barn, closing the gate behind him. He was bundled warm in a fleece flannel and thick pants, and you could see the wind tousling his hair as he walked. You couldn't help the swell of your heart at the sight. You could remember the first time he came out to the barn, nervous as ever as he asked how he could help. You were so surprised but so proud that he'd come out of his shell. It was such a stark difference to the man who showed up on your porch months ago.

Pushing yourself off the window, you quickly changed into warmer clothes and brushed your teeth before making your way outside. Maybe today, you could break him out of his shell just a bit more.

The thought of talking with your mother, while it was daunting in the back of your head and an ever constant source of anxiety, it had taken a backseat in your priorities.

Bruno's head shot up when he heard you opening the back door and he ran to meet you, almost knocking you over as he jumped up to reach your nose. Your laugh traveled to the barn, luring Bucky outside from whatever he was working on. You looked up from Bruno to see the man you were looking for step out of the barn, a bucket of feed hanging from his hand before he set it down.

"Figured I'd let you sleep in," He softly said as you made your way to his side, "It was kind of a rough day, thought you might need it." You gave him a thankful smile and nodded.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," You nudged him with your elbow, "I had an idea." His brows shot up at your suggestive tone and your sideways glance. Normally, with anyone else, he'd be thrown into a nervous wreck if they did what you did, but that's just how you were. And he trusted you. Probably more than he should, having only known you for a few months, but he couldn't help it. There was something about you that made him entrust his entire well being in you.

"What is it?" He asked. Your smirk widened as you walked in the barn, Bucky following to where you stopped in front of where the saddles sat on their stands by the wall.

"Would you wanna go for a ride?" You asked, the smirk gone, replaced by a hopeful smile.

"I've never ridden before," He muttered, suddenly nervous of letting you down. You loved riding, he knew you did. He also knew that you'd ask him to join you one day, but he was so sure that you wouldn't want to take the time to teach him. But your smile stayed as you returned his nervous gaze with an excited one.

"I could teach you," You said, that hopeful look never leaving your eyes.

He put his hand on his hip and kicked out his foot, looking back at you and pretending to ponder the idea around in his head. Really, he was stretching the time that you looked at him like that. Like he held your very heart in his next words. It'd been so long since someone had looked at him the way you always do and he liked to relish in it a little. He dramatically sighed before nodding.

"Alright, alright," He gave you a smile as you beamed up at him, "It can't be that hard can it?" You let out a soft giggle, shaking your head.

"Not at all, it's easy. Especially with my horses," he chuckled at the fact that you held your head high with pride at how well you'd trained your animals.

"Well, tell me what to do then, darlin'."

~~~

In the end, Bucky couldn't do too much to help put the saddles on the horses, but, after putting Alpine back in the house, he opted to hold them in place while you did the straps. He wasn't sure if it really helped or not, but it made him feel like he was doing more than just standing there.

You'd demonstrated how to launch yourself up onto the seat, putting your foot in the stirrup and grabbing hold of the horn before jumping up and throwing your leg around to the other side. You did it with such grace that Bucky was enamored just watching you, barely paying any attention to what you were saying. He'd never been jealous of a horse before, much less a damn saddle, but he couldn't help the small twinge in his chest as he watched your thighs settle on the leather.

When he'd been quiet just a bit too long, your brows furrowed and you let out a nervous little laugh, "What?"

Quickly, he blinked a few times while looking down at his feet, "Nothing, nothing," he looked over to Nita, who stood watching him and waiting.

"Everything okay?" You asked in that sweet tone of yours. He heard hooves slowly clomp over to him and soon Blue was nudging his hand with her nose. He looked up to where you leisurely sat on top of the horse and nodded. He hoped you didn't catch the flush that had started to rise on the back of his neck.

"Could you show me one more time?" He asked. You gave him a knowing look and he was prepared to take it back, to apologize for openly ogling you instead of paying attention, but you simply nodded.

"Sure, Buck," You swung your leg behind you and over Blue's behind, landing swiftly on the ground in front of him, "I'll even show you one handed, so you know you can do it." You teased, giving him a small smirk of your own. He chuckled.

"Thanks."

You walked around to the right side of the horse and tucked your left arm stiffly at your side, "You'll grab the horn and put your right foot in the stirrup like this," He watched you move to show him exactly what you wanted him to do. "Then, when you jump you'll press down with your right foot to launch you up. Like this --" You kicked off with your left foot, kicking up a bit of dirt, and he saw the saddle shift under your weight as you pressed down with your right foot. With a small thump, your leg was back around the other side and you were again perched perfectly on top.

"Your turn," You nudged your head towards Nita, and he nodded.

"Alright, alright," He raised his hand and turned to the black horse, doing his best to imitate your movements. You brought Blue around so you could watch and you even talked him through it. It took a couple tries, Bucky hadn't jumped hard enough - apparently - but eventually he sat up at the top, surprisingly comfortable in the stiff leather seat.

He looked over to you and held up the reins, and the smile you sent his way made his heart flutter in his chest.

"Good! Here," You held out your hand for the reins and his brows furrowed before he handed them over, "I'm gonna lead her first, so you can get used to how she feels while moving, okay?" You waited for his nod before explaining how he just had to give a slight nudge with his two feet back to get them to walk forward. You demonstrated, giving Blue the tiniest kick to the side and she started trotting forward, Nita following at the tug on her reins.

It was odd, feeling the horse underneath him and he had to shift a bit to get comfortable, but he got used to it pretty quick and soon enough, you handed the reins back. After showing him a few more things, like pulling the reins from side to side to turn and then back towards his chest to stop or back up, he was ready to follow you out on the easy trail.

You lead the way down the skinniest part of the trail, Nita following right behind you and Bruno following behind Nita. Soon enough, the path opened up enough for him to ride next to you and Bruno walked just a couple feet ahead. The sun was warm as it shone down on you both, until a breeze came through the trees, whipping through your hair and rustling the leaves of the trees above you causing some of them to fall in your path.

"Thanks for coming with me," You started looking over at him with that cute smile of yours, "It means a lot." He grinned, trying to stamp down the warm feeling in his chest.

"Thank you for finally teaching me to ride," You narrowed your eyes at him.

"If you had asked me earlier, I would've taught you in a heartbeat," You reached over and nudged his side, "We could've been going on more rides like this together instead of me going alone."

He scrunched his brows at that. He'd never seen you take the horses on a ride since he'd been here. He would see them running together on and off in the field, but from what he could remember, you'd never saddled one in front of him.

"You've been going solo?" He asked, noticing the fault in your grin, "You could've asked." He was doing his best to come off as caring, as someone who you shouldn't be scared to ask things like that of.

"Well," you started, looking forward again, "I honestly haven't had someone to ride with since dad passed. He and I used to go out on the trails every weekend," He saw your eyes flit down to your hands resting over the horn, "And I wasn't sure if you'd be interested in joining, so I take them when you're in your sessions, sometimes."

"Hey," He softly said, "Thank you for inviting me." You looked over at him with a shy smile and your eyes looking anywhere but his own. "You can always ask me, I hope you know that."

He heard a small laugh escape your lips before you looked at him, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth, causing a flush to flood his face -- something he hoped you put up to the cold weather and not the wild beating of his heart in his chest.

"Okay," Your soft voice came soon after.

The rest of the ride was soon cut short. You spotted a heavy rain cloud headed your way and insisted that you turn around and head back. And it was a good thing you did, because by the time you both got back to the barn -- you hadn't even gotten off of the horses yet -- the rain started pouring down outside.

Bucky stumbled his way off the horse, not quite having the grace that you did, and helped you get everything put away and the barn locked up before you both ran to the back door of the house. He held the door open for you and Bruno as you rushed past him into the heat of your home and he followed right after. Warmth wrapped around him once he shut the door and he welcomed it before the cold of his now soaked clothes sent a sharp shiver through his spine.

He didn't see where you ran off to, but he could hear you rummaging around in one of the closets in the hallway at the top of the stairs. He focused on not slipping on the wet floor as he walked his way through the kitchen and to the stairway where you were barreling down the steps with towels in your arms.

"Here," You held two out to him and he thanked you as he took them. He tried to keep his eyes to himself, to keep his attention away from the shirt that clung to you, your coat discarded somewhere. He was snapped out of his staring when your voice flooded his ears.

"Well," He looked up to see you trying your best to get the water out of your hair, "Should probably shower to warm up or we'll get sick."

"You go ahead, I'll shower after," He muttered, wrapping the towel around his shoulders as you smiled in thanks before heading back up the steps. The sound of the water heater kicking on filled the hall and he turned to see Bruno, dripping water all over the kitchen as he waited to be dried.

"What am I gonna do, huh?" He asked the dog as he knelt down and laid the extra towel around him, doing his best to dry the dog, "How would I even bring it up?" Really he was talking to himself, but having the dog look up at him as if he understood every word helped get it off his chest.

"I can't just tell your mom how I feel," He whispered, listening to make sure the shower was still running, though you'd literally just started it. God did he want to though. Everything about you was perfect. From your perfect smile to your bubbling laugh. The energy and effort you put into your work and the patience you held even when you were frustrated. The gentleness of your touch that spread warmth through his skin every single time you touched him. Your ability to keep yourself together when in such, what he assumed, a shitty situation. It was then he remembered the promise you both made the night before.

How your mom had shown up unannounced and how you unloaded everything about her to him through your tears. HIs heart ached for you. He may have gone through hell, but you suffered through something he could never have imagined experiencing. His mother was the most loving person he'd known growing up, to know anything less felt. . . wrong. "She's got enough on her plate, don't you think?" He stilled his movements as Bruno looked at him and tilted his head.

"Don't look at me like that," He chuckled before playfully giving his snout a little nudge, "What if she feels different. I don't want to complicate things." He sat back on his heels and pulled the towel off of Bruno, who shook the remaining water off, speckling it across the cupboards.

Bucky sighed and shook his head, "Thanks, bud, I appreciate that." He chuckled to himself and got to work, drying all the little spots before you came back downstairs.

~~~

You threw a frozen pizza in the oven when Bucky went up for his shower, and when he came back downstairs, you had just sliced it and plated two slices for him.

"Thanks," He said, taking the plate from the counter. You hummed and looked over to him, seeing the water from his hair drip down the side of his neck into the towel that sat around his shoulders.

"No problem," You muttered, looking down to your own plate, "I was wondering. . ." You started.

He gave you a chance to finish what you wanted to ask, but it never came out, your lips screwed shut as your eyebrows pinched together in thought.

"What is it?" He asked, trying to keep his voice low.

"Well, I uh," You cleared your throat and looked up at him. You'd never really realized just how tall he was until now. You weren't sure why you hadn't noticed before, but something about it made you feel safe, even if he was just on the other side of the counter top, "I have some stuff to clear out of the attic. I know this isn't really the most ideal time to go through it, but all the stuff with my mom yesterday got me thinking about it. I was wondering if you'd at least sit with me while I'm up there?"

You knew that half of what you said was just rambled off and that what you were asking probably didn't make a lot of sense, just for him to sit with you. But you didn't think you'd ever get the courage to go through those boxes alone. Even slimmer was the chance of you feeling confident enough to ask him to join you again.

His eyes softened and you found him nodding with an unreadable expression in his eyes, "Of course, darlin," His low voice wrapped around you as he gave you a small, understanding smile, "Anything you need."

Once you two finished what you wanted of the pizza, you decided just a little bit of liquid courage was necessary to climb the steps of the hatch to the attic, and Bucky joined you, carrying the wine bottle while you carried the glasses. He followed you up to the attic, never once rushing you when you'd hesitate to pull on that string to lower the hatch and the ladder, or when it took you a moment to step further into the space. He just patiently waited for you to be okay again, and followed quietly behind you when you were.

You led him back to the space where the boxes sat, collecting dust for the past couple years since you first put them there.

"What is all this?" He asked, turning his head to read the labels that were haphazardly written on the cardboard before being locked away.

"This is," You sighed, setting the glasses down on the floor, and going to grab a small box, "My dad's old stuff." He raised his brows at you, concerned, and you shrugged, "I haven't been through it since he passed."

"I thought you said Steve helped you clear it out back when everything happened?" He asked, sitting with his legs crossed next to you. He held out the wine bottle for you to open and took the full glass you slid his way.

"Well, Steve helped me put it up here. We got rid of the not so personal things, or found homes for the useful ones, like his tools. But the rest, the stuff I couldn't part with, we boxed up and I haven't touched any of it since." You explained, downing half your glass in one go before setting the glass down and opening the box flaps, revealing photos and books.

He sat with you the whole night as you went through a few boxes. Topping off your wine when you were ready for more. You showed him pictures from your childhood, your school science fairs and art fairs that you participated in. Some photos were of you and your dad out in the field. You'd shown him the one of you winning your first barrel racing event and then the first time you trained a horse on your own. It looked like Blue and when he commented on it, he learned he was right.

He also learned that you got Blue because of that barrel racing event. Your father had seen your love for it and decided you needed a horse of your own, when you were just fifteen years old.

"After mom left, I used it to keep my mind occupied," You mentioned, "Blue and I are inseparable now." You laughed a little at that.

"What made you stop?" He asked, looking over at you with your eyes glued to the photo. You took a breath through your nose and set the picture in his hand.

"I was supposed to compete in the state competition when I was sixteen," You started, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around your knees as he looked at the teenage you with a young Blue, "I was practicing with Blue in the yard, my dad had set up the barrels just like any other time. I don't know what happened though. One minute I was in the saddle, gripping the reins and getting ready to turn Blue around the second barrel. The next," You shrugged as you looked up to him, "I was on the ground, flat on my back. Blue got spooked, I guess, and reared up and I lost my grip on the horn. Luckily, I had a helmet on, but I looked down to my leg to see it twisted in a way that legs are not supposed to be." You gave a small nervous laugh, "It took me out of riding completely for almost six months."

"And after those six months, you were still okay with getting back on the saddle?" He asked.

"Well it was something my dad always loved doing, and I really enjoyed it. So I wasn't going to let one fall and one broken leg keep me down for good," You smiled at him and he couldn't help but grow even more fond of you. You turned your attention back to the boxes and pulled out more pictures.

He helped you decide which pictures you should bring down stairs to display and which ones to keep boxed, for now. He also went through the books with you, nerdily pointing out The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. To which you very adamantly suggested he keep for himself. You'd read them when you were younger and didn't see yourself reading them again any time soon. You’d said, “If I want to reread them again, I’ll just have to ask you for them back.”

You went through and made 'keep' piles and 'donate' piles, and by the time the storm died down about 4 hours later, you had made a pretty decent dent. When you decided that was enough for the night, you leaned back on your hands, admiring the pile of boxes.

"Thank you," You said, only slightly slurred, "it all seems so hard when you have to do it alone." You muttered, turning your head to glance at him.

"You don't have to do this stuff alone," He mumbled, "Besides, I liked learning about you like this. Ignoring the circumstances, it was fun." You smiled at that, letting out a small huff of a laugh as you reached to move the glasses and empty bottle away from in between you.

"What're you doin'?" He chuckled to hide the hitch in his breath at you moving to lay on your back, your head on his thighs, looking up at him.

"Just getting comfy, is this okay?" You asked, ready to move if he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, you're okay," He gave you a nervous grin and you smiled back, relaxing into his lap and closing your eyes as you sighed. You were quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about something and Bucky was pretty sure he knew who. The room grew silent, and though the worst part of the storm had passed, you could hear the pitter patter of the light rain hitting the roof and the small window.

"Do you know what you're gonna say to your sisters?" Your voice was soft, small almost, as you broke the silence.

It wasn't what he thought you'd ask, but he should know by now that you hardly ever did the predictable. He thought about your question, narrowing his eyes as he thought for a moment.

"Ya know," He mumbled, "I hadn't really thought about it. I was just gonna wing it." He said, looking back down at you as you chuckled, "Should I plan it out?" You opened your eyes to see him with worry in his eyes.

"Not if you don't think you need to. If it would make it harder, to follow something you planned, then no; but if it would help you with what you need to tell them, even to organize what you wanna make sure they know, then sure," You chuckled at yourself, "But maybe you shouldn't listen to me. I'm not the best at knowing what to say to someone."

He sighed at that, trying to think of a way to help you out. He knew you didn't want to hear the excuses from your mother and he couldn't blame you. He wouldn't want to either, but you had been clear last night in your little deal on reaching out. And then he got an idea.

"What if we practice on each other?" He asked, "You could practice what you want to say to your mom, to me, and I can tell you what I want to tell my sisters. That way, when we have to really do it, we're at least a little ready."

You looked to the ceiling as you thought, humming at the idea, "I like that," You returned your gaze to his, "but since it was your idea, you're going first."

"Oh, is that how it is?" He playfully asked, nudging his leg underneath you, pulling a giggle from your lips, "I don't know if I want to now." He chuckled.

You reached up and poked his chest with your index finger, "No, you can't back out now!" You laughed, your smile igniting a warmth in his chest and drawing a deeper laugh from him.

"Alright, alright," He laughed, waiting for you to settle back down. He took a breath as you watched him, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"What?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper. It was the second time you'd caught him staring at you in less than twenty-four hours.

He felt the flush crawl up his neck again and he quickly rushed out, "Nothing, just - maybe if you closed your eyes?" He tried to keep his voice a normal pitch so you wouldn't catch on that he made that up just so you wouldn't see his face turn red.

"Oh? Would that really help?" You teased with a grin and a glint in your eye.

"And if I said yes?" He asked, a laugh in his words.

"Fine, fine," You sighed as you playfully rolled your eyes before closing them. You only kept them closed for a moment before peaking one open and earning another laugh from him.

"Keep 'em closed, cheater," He laughed. You reclosed your eyes and settled on his lap, crossing your hands over your stomach as you waited.

You heard him clear his throat as he tried to think of what to say. And soon his voice filled your ears and it was all you could focus on with your sight voluntarily compromised for the time being. He let out a sigh, his legs just slightly shifting under you, and then he started.

"I want to say I'm sorry," His voice was rougher than it was just moments ago when you had him blushing and laughing with you, "I'm sorry I joined, even though you told - no, begged - me not to. I'm sorry for being so distant ever since I came back." He paused and you could hear him swallow thick, "I'm sorry for missing so much, even though I've physically been here. I know I'm just the kids' uncle, but I wish I was present for more of their lives. I know you three, mom and dad too, wherever they are, are probably upset, probably even disappointed in me," He took a shaky breath, letting it out slowly and sniffling. You wanted to cut him off but you knew better. If you did that now, he'd never let it out. "I just needed time to feel like me again. I came back as a different person. A person I didn't like. A person I didn't want you to see or know. I wanted to be as normal as possible before I saw you all again. I'm so sorry."

He sniffled above you again, and you felt a small drop hit your face. When he was quiet long enough to tell you he was done, you slowly opened your eyes to look at him. From the little light in the corner of the room, you could see a couple streaks down his face as he glanced down at you.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cry on you. Literally," He let out a wet laugh, "I just can't wipe it off while holding myself up," he tipped his head towards his arm that he was leaning on. You gave him a gentle smile and reached up to wipe his face with the back of your knuckles.

"It's okay, I gotcha covered," You whispered, cupping his cheek, "But do you really think they'd be disappointed in you?" Your smile dropped as you asked the question. If his family was anything like in the stories he told you, you felt like they could never be disappointed in him. Especially for putting his life on the line like that.

"They all begged me not to join. Asked me to stay," He shrugged, "Why wouldn't they be disappointed when it turned out exactly how they feared it would? They were right. I didn't listen and I should have. I shouldn't have joined." He muttered.

"Bucky, I don't know why you joined, and though they begged you not to and bad things happened because you didn't listen, that doesn't mean they'd be disappointed. I think they're just worried. And I think they'll be relieved to see your face. To hear your voice," You rubbed your thumb along the scuff of his cheek, "Also, if you hadn't joined, I probably never would've gotten the chance to meet you. It's not every day I travel out to Brooklyn," you started to pull your hand away, dragging your fingers along the line of his jaw until your fingertips met the small dip in his chin, giving it a small poke. You watched the features of his face relax in your hold, his forehead un-wrinkling as he let his eyebrows un-pinch and his stare became soft as the lids to his eyes drooped just the slightest in the outer corners. "And I'm glad I got the chance to know you."

He huffed and you dropped your hand down to your chest as you smiled.

"It's your turn," He whispered after letting the silence settle. Your smile faltered and you swallowed. You almost forgot about your turn and you know you would've been completely fine if he'd forgotten about it. But he just dumped so much of himself on to the table, and now it was your turn, it was only fair that you share some of your troubles too.

"Right," You whispered, taking a breath to try and think of what you wanted to say.

What did you want to say? You'd never thought the day would come where you'd get the chance to talk to your mother again, so you never put much thought into what you'd want to tell her. To ask her.

Maybe you could start with was I not enough to be sober for? Or maybe asking her why didn't you come back was the way to start. Your thoughts about how you should feel about her were all so loud and confusing, you weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about her. Sure, she was a drunk, but you had a couple good memories with her too. Were you supposed to be this conflicted about it? It felt like it was supposed to be an easy answer. . . but you just couldn't figure it out.

"Hey, you okay?" Bucky's voice cut through the fog of your brain like a lighthouse in a sea storm and you flicked your eyes back to his ocean blues.

"Yeah, I just," You paused to take a small breath, letting it out. His eyes were so distracting, their blue hue seeing right through you, you were sure of it, "Close your eyes?"

He let a small chuckle shake his chest before he nodded, "Sure, darlin'."

His eyes closed, his lashes brushing against his high cheekbones. You took a moment to admire the shadows cast across his face, following the point of his nose to the curve of his lips as they rested in a relaxed grin. You tore your eyes away from his face and locked on to a very interesting piece of the ceiling.

"I guess," You started, twisting your fingers together and fiddling with the little piece of skin next to one of your fingernails, "I don't know how I should feel about it. I should be mad at you. I want to tell you to fuck off and to never come back. But you're my mom, I can't do that. But I should hate you, I know I should. You walked out on me and dad, you just left," You took a deep breath to try and steady the sting forming in your eyes, "Dad didn't know one thing about being a girl, but he tried his best. You missed out on everything that mattered to me. But I don't know if I can hate you. I didn't necessarily need you, but it would've been nice to have you around. To go to the mother daughter breakfasts and have you help me pick out clothes when I started knowing who I was. I got tired of wondering where you went, I stopped caring."

You let out a shaky breath as you looked back to see Bucky's eyes still closed, just like you'd kept yours as you listened to him. The corners of your lips picked up just the slightest as the sight of him seemed to calm your nerves just enough.

"I just want to know why you left. I want to know why you never came back. And I want to know why you're coming back now." You let out a heavy sigh as it felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest. You just wanted to know why.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Bucky whispered after you'd gone quiet. You hummed in approval and watched his eyes flutter open to find yours, the blue suddenly shining in an understanding that hadn't been there before.

"Can I tell you what I think?" He asked, his voice still almost silent. You nodded, refusing to look away from him. "I think it's okay that you don't know how to feel about her. Feelings, especially after something like that, they're hard to understand." He dipped his head in thought before picking it back up almost just as fast, "Something my therapist tells me is that, sometimes you don't need to understand yourself, just yet. Sometimes," He paused, looking away as he searched for the right words, "You just need closure as to why it happened the way it did."

He looked back to you, "And then after you have that closure, other things start to become less confusing."

You smiled at him, understanding what he meant and also understanding him a little better in the process.

You weren't sure how long you laid there, just staring up at him as you just enjoyed each other's company in silence. But eventually, your body grew stiff from laying there so you hoisted yourself up, stretching your arms above your head before turning your head over your shoulder to see Bucky standing.

"Thanks for the help," You muttered, taking his outstretched hand to help you up, "and for the advice." You bent down to pick up the glasses and the empty bottle.

I should be saying the same to you," He gave you a small smile before shifting so you could lead the way back down out of the attic. He turned the light off, and once you were both off of the steps, he pushed it back up into the ceiling.

He heard you down in the kitchen and went down to see you putting the glasses in the sink to be worried about tomorrow. He also caught the time on the oven clock and found that you two had been up there practically all night. It was almost one in the morning now, and once he spotted your yawn, he realized how tired he was.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning?" He asked, leaning on the stair railing. You turned to look at him, giving him a shy smile and tugging your lip between your teeth again. You let out a small sigh.

"I guess yeah," You walked over to him, "I was gonna suggest we watch a show to fall asleep to, but I don't think I'll be able to stay awake long enough to even turn on the tv." You laughed, your lids drooping more and more every time you blinked.

"Maybe tomorrow night," He leaned down, placing his hand at the small of your back to keep you steady as you both climbed the stairs. Once you got to the top, you turned to him and wrapped your arms around his middle.

"Thanks again," You whispered into his shirt. He settled his hand around your back and muttered into your hair.

"Always," He placed a small kiss on your hair, soft enough that he was sure you couldn't feel it, and pulled back,"Goodnight." He watched you turn to your door, pausing at the frame and giving him another small smile.

"Goodnight, Bucky," You whispered before disappearing into the dark of your room. Bruno appeared out of nowhere and followed you, and soon Alpine was sitting at Bucky's feet, waiting for him to go to his bed.

He sighed, bending down to grab the cat and nudged his door open with his hip. He laid in bed, tired but wide awake, thinking about the whole day you two had.

He wanted to wake up next to you again, getting to watch the morning sun grace across your face as if it were trying to coax you awake without really disturbing you. But he didn’t want to add more to your plate by admitting how he felt. He figured he’d wait and for now, he’d take the small moments with you. The occasional cuddles on the couch or in the hay. The smiles and laughs at something stupid he’d say. Your hand in his as you pull him to show him something at the store.

All the little moments that he was sure didn’t mean much to you, meant the world to him.

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated!

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ahh-fxck · 2 years ago

Text

Warrior’s Blues repost event part 11! In which Jaskier is not the paragon of emotional grace and coping well with shit, and we meet one of his dearest friends.

Chapter 11: What Would I Do Without You?

Tags/warnings: Grief, discussion of original character’s death, alcohol, smoking

Beta: @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog

~Ao3 Link~

Something about the wide-eyed, guilty glances that he keeps shooting her makes him look sixteen again. She smirks. “I think you wanna tell me but you’re embarrassed, so how about I start making guesses?”

Going pale, Jaskier groans. “Why are you so hell-bent on pushing my buttons?” The last thing he wants is Julia making guesses about what is bothering him. She has a terrible habit of being accurate and she has a memory like an elephant.

“Because you’re not a dumbass kid anymore and you haven’t shown up drunk in years. You missed an important meeting! What the fuck, Jaskier? Don’t make me call you Julian, I swear to fucking god I’ll break out your birth name.”

“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”

“Julian Alfred P-”

“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries.

On the day of Yennefer’s visit, Jaskier arrives at work on a bicycle. He’s late and on a bicycle for the same reason, which is to say, he is drunk and cannot drive his car. He is drunk because he’d been so full of mixed emotions after Yennefer left that he’d sat down to eat the rest of the fruit and whipped cream. Somewhere in there, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to pour half a bottle of bourbon after it.

It was not.

Luckily for him, the person working the bar tonight is Julia.

She is a stocky woman in her mid-forties. She has tawny skin and skeptical hazel eyes, and there’s a kind twist to her lips that she often hides. She has a tuft of cropped blue hair and wears a denim vest with a white t-shirt. Even though she is exasperated when he staggers through the door, she feeds him a sandwich and coffee while she fills him in on the meeting he missed. From there, she lets the crew in for the night.

Jaskier feels like the whole world is an itchy sweater, even after the sandwich and coffee. It’s like his brain is on fire, and he can’t quite settle into the usual friendly chatter that his job requires. He passes an irritable and lonely night out by the door. By the time it’s time to clock out most of the staff is eager to clear out from underfoot; Jaskier is a good boss, but when his good humor runs out he can be a real asshole.

The only one who doesn’t give a fuck is Julia. She knew from the second she saw him wheeling in the door that it was going to be a late night, so she lets the rest of the staff out before pouring herself a big glass of gin. Then she settles her elbows against the bar, watching Jaskier mop the dancefloor. He is flailing wildly with the mop, clearing the floor with brutal inefficiency. Internally she begins to count down the time until he knocks the bucket over. Sure enough, a moment later he does just that. She nods in satisfaction- still got it.

He throws his head back and lets out a shout of pure frustration as his poorly-contained feelings boil over at last. Julia smirks and grabs a bunch of towels, then ambles over to him and starts tossing them on the floor to soak up the mess.

As she does so she says nothing, but the look she gives him makes him feel transparent. Jaskier avoids her eyes as he tosses some towels down onto the puddle.

She gives a little harrumph, unimpressed, bending to help him clear the towels away. They right the bucket and clean the floor in silence. When they’re done, she turns to him and gives him a long look.

“So… What’s eating you?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles as he straightens up. He hauls the bucket away, fills it with water, and returns. Without making eye contact he begins to mop again.

Julia hums, crossing her arms. “Yeah, and nothing made you stink like bourbon, too. Cough it up.” She leans against a nearby wall, giving him a skeptical look. He looks at her from under the fringe of hair that has fallen over his face. Something about the wide-eyed, guilty glances that he keeps shooting her makes him look sixteen again. She smirks. “I think you wanna tell me but you’re embarrassed, so how about I start making guesses?”

“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”

“Julian Alfred P-”

“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries. He stops and holds the mop for a moment, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. He’s burning with embarrassment, but deep down it’s good to know that she cares enough to needle him. He starts pushing it across the floor again, more steadily this time. Using his muscles feels good, gives him something to focus on. “I’m sure you heard about the man who rescued Pride this year.”

“Heh, I feel like I’ve met him. Yarpen won’t shut up. Heard from him recently?” She narrows her eyes at him, sure that she’s about to hear some sort of horny idiot story.

Jaskier blushes hotly, confirming Julia’s suspicions. “Well, funny thing about that.”

“What did you do now?” Julia asks, smirking. She retreats to the bar and picks up her tumbler of gin, then lights a cigarette.

“We-e-elll…” he wavers, hot spots of color blossoming on his cheeks.

Julia gives him a long look, and he folds.

“Um, so I might have brought him back to my house after Pride.”

Julia barks a short laugh. “Color me not surprised. What’s the problem? Is he why you were wearing that birdy when you came in?”

Jaskier’s flush deepens. “I meant to take that off before his wife showed up. After that my day got all sort of… muddled.”

“You mean you got chewed out and then got drunk, right?”

“No! You know what, Julia? She yelled at me when I met her in the hospital, but when she came to my house she was…” He pauses, seeing the bewildered look on Julia’s face. “All right, let me back up and explain. He broke his hand, and I had to take him to the hospital. Two weeks later we go for his followup appointment and his wife is there waiting for him. Tracked him down all the way from fucking England! Got the third degree from her there, naturally, but the wildest part is, she showed up at my house the next day to talk. About me dating him.”

Julia laughs again, harder and longer. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”

Despite himself, Jaskier breaks into a rueful grin.“Right? Seriously though. This strictly between you and me, got it? All of it. He’s in the closet and no one else here needs to know any of this.”

“You got it. No gossip. Your secrets are my secrets.” Julia smiles crookedly, sipping at the last of her gin. She’s been keeping Jaskier’s harebrained shit to herself since he was a teen. At first, it was out of a desire to not get involved, but by now she genuinely likes the dingbat. He’s dumb but sweet, and he’s been good to her even when she didn’t deserve it. “So what’s the deal, kiddo?”

“So what it all boiled down to is that she’s not mad at me for sleeping with him, she’s mad I slept with him so fast. She’s ah… she’s okay with me seeing him again.”

Julia puts her glass down on the bartop, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Okay, that is a new one on me, I gotta admit. What’s the story there? She into watching or something?”

A surprised laugh escapes him. “No! Oh no, and thank fuck because I don’t think I’d survive. This woman… oh Julia, you should have seen her. She’s like, five foot four inches of lightning in a bottle. A total force of nature. I think she could snap me like a twig.” A wry twinkle comes into his eye as Julia’s eyebrow goes up.

Smirking, she taps some ash off of her cigarette. “Sounds like a hell of a woman.”

He snorts, cutting her an amused look. “She is, but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She’s asexual.”

“Oh? The plot thickens.” Julia grins wolfishly, leaning her chin on her hand. He had a way of getting up to his neck in crazy situations, and it had become a spectator sport for her.

Flushing with embarrassment, a crooked grin flickers across Jaskier’s face. “Yeah, well.” He turns his glass in a full circle. “So it turns out, they uh… have a kid together. And I want you to understand how terrifying this woman was because there was no way in hell I was going to ask for more details. But. What she told me was this. They got married because of their daughter, but Geralt… her husband, the man I was sleeping with… He’s gay.”

“Oh man, you really have a way of finding them, don't you?" This is top-notch Jaskier fuckery, it really is. She’s glad she’d stayed to get the story out of him, even though she knew it meant that she’d be dragged into his shit sooner rather than later.

“I really do,” Jaskier agrees with a little groan.

“What’s her name?”

“Yennefer.”

“Hm. Nice names. Yennefer and Geralt. So she got mad at you for sleeping with him so fast, and then what?”

“And then, Julia! And then! She told me that she’d always known that he might find someone special. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘maybe someone like you’ and I just lost my mind. Just-!” He makes an exploding gesture out from his head with his hands with accompanying sound effects, then shakes his head and returns to mopping.

“Wow. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”

“Yeah. Yeah! No kidding! So… then she hits me with the next thing, and you’re not going to believe this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She said he’s been free to choose his lovers, always has been, but he’s never wanted to bring one home before.”

Julia lets out a low whistle, her eyebrows going up. “So he likes you, likes you. And his wife is… okay with this?”

“I don’t think she likes me very much. But! She gave me the phone number to their hotel room. Says I should have a real talk with him before I think about dating him.” He stalks past her into the kitchen to dump out the dirty mop water.

“Just like that?” Julia laughs, leaning in the doorway.

“Threatened to bury my dead body if I didn’t treat him right, in those exact words,” he calls over his shoulder.

Shaking with mirth, she leans against the doorframe. “Oh my fucking god.”

“I know!” Jaskier cries, flinging his hands up. “This is absurd! And you know what’s even more ridiculous? I really think I could fall for him, I really do. He’s just so…” He sighs, tossing the mop and bucket in their corner and washing his hands.

“Yeah, Yarpen wouldn’t shut up about him. Six feet plus, white hair, amber eyes, stacked? Sounds very striking,” she drawls, eyebrows arching.

“No, Julia- Well, I mean, yes, but…” He walks back out to the bar, flopping onto one of the tall stools.

“But what?” she smirks, returning to the bar and tapping out her ash.

“Well, I was gonna say beautiful, but I didn’t mean it like that.” Jaskier puffs, drumming his hands on the bar top, trying to find a way to put it. “Like… ohh, I sound like a fool, but he feels like a warm hearth. I just wanna curl up next to him with a book and a cup of tea and fall asleep because I feel so good around him. Safe. And don’t you go telling me he’s a stranger-” Jaskier breaks off as Julia rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak. “I know that! I know, and that’s what makes it so weird, Julia. But like, good weird.”

Julia hums thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. Jaskier has been getting more self-aware as he ages, and for once, she’s inclined to believe that he remembers this guy’s a stranger. “Have you called your therapist yet?”

“For once in my life, yes. I called her before I came in. Hopefully she’ll have gotten back to me by the time I get home.”

“Good for you. So this is why you came in here drunk off your ass this morning? This whole mess?” She pours him a shot glass of rum and passes it to him.

He takes it with a nod of thanks. “Yeah… I guess I got a little freaked out after his wife grilled me this morning, didn’t cope with it well.” Taking a sip, he frowns. “Julia, I’m in over my head. I don’t really know what to do here. He’s never had a boyfriend before.”

Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, Julia stubs out her cigarette. “Ain’t he about my age?”

“Yeah… He’s… I guess he never let himself have one, he was protecting his career. That’s what his wife said.” Jaskier worries at his lip, blue eyes wide as he shoots her a glance. His glass scrapes on the bar top.

Annoyed by the sound, Julia tosses him a coaster. Then she hums thoughtfully, swirling the dregs of gin in her glass. “That’s a long time to be lonely.”

Puffing out a long, slow breath, Jaskier nods. He draws the coaster over and sticks it under his drink with a guilty look. “Yeah.” Slumping to the bar top, he puts his chin on his hands. “She said… if I cheated on him it would crush him. She said… ‘Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.’” Putting his face into his arms, Jaskier gives a little groan.

Julia sucks in a breath, watching Jaskier crumple in front of her. He’d at least grasped the concept of fidelity by now, but until recently his romances hadn’t been particularly stable. Heart going out to him, she finds herself walking around to the other side of the bar to stand awkwardly by his side, her stocky frame only coming up to his shoulder where he sits on the stool. She awkwardly pats said shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “That’s gotta feel pretty big to you. How are you doin’ with it?”

“I’m feeling massively intimidated, Julia. He’s gorgeous and I really want to date him, but I’m really afraid I’m going to be bad for him. I don’t exactly have the most amazing track record.”

Julia hums, sucking her teeth thoughtfully. She rubs a gentle circle between Jaskier’s shoulder blades, an unusually affectionate gesture. “Kiddo, you know I wouldn’t say this normally, but you’ve put a damn ton of work into yourself. I trust the man you’ve grown into, and I think you should try trusting yourself for once. See how it works out for you.”

Jaskier sighs, leaning into the touch. “I know. I worked so hard, and Rue didn’t even get to how good things got. I hope she’s proud of me.”

“She’d be proud of you all ‘round, kiddo,” she says, grief tightening her throat. Her partner Rue had passed two years ago, but the pain was still fresh and hot for both of them. Rue had been more than a friend to Jaskier, she’d been his absolute favorite person. He missed her almost as dearly as Julia herself did. “You’ve really shaped up,” she adds. “Hell, you stepped up when I needed you.�� She gives Jaskier a little shake. “You might be a dumbass, but it matters that you try to get things right. It matters more that you do your best to fix it when you don’t, and you do that now. That’s all anyone can do.” Julia’s hand moves back to his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man, and I think she’d tell you that, too.”

Jaskier nods, swallowing hard. As her hand closes on him he realizes all of a sudden how much he misses Rue. His heart contracts with terrible grief. “Oh!” He gasps, surprised by the abruptness of the pain. Reaching back to squeeze Julia’s hand, he murmurs, “I feel really lost right now. She’d know what to do.”

A crack appears in Julia’s heart. She nods and steps closer to Jaskier, reaching around his hip and pulling him close. Jaskier leans into her and she grips him tightly with her strong arm. Her cheek presses against him and she squeezes her eyes shut, nodding. “Me too. I miss her like hell.” As she grips Jaskier, silent tears dampen his cheeks. Before long, Julia’s eyes begin to well over too. Jaskier wraps his arms around her as well, and for once she allows him to squeeze her close.

Rue had been the center of both of their lives. Julia had been in love with her since they met one hot summer on Coney Island as teenagers. They had kissed in the rain under one of the piers, and that had been it for her. By the time they’d moved in together as adults, Julia would have gone down on one knee and married her in a heartbeat.

Every summer they took a long vacation on Fire Island, where Julia would pick up part time work as a bartender. They’d met Jaskier one summer there when he was just sixteen years old. He’d been a disaster of a baby queer, but gregarious little Rue had seen something of herself in him. She had taken him under her wing, and he had thrived.

When Rue was diagnosed with ovarian cancer four years ago, it had been at a quiet time in Julia’s life. Jaskier had gotten a therapist a year before and was finally out of her hair. The bar was thriving. Rue and Julia had settled into their home just the way they’d liked it, tea settees and all. Julia remembers looking at this yellow, gold, and cream-colored doily on their tea table after they got home from Rue’s diagnosis. The little sunburst pattern had seared into her mind as she sat in shock.

The following two years had been hell on a plate. The bar came closer to folding than it ever had as both Julia and Jaskier bent themselves completely out of shape trying to get Rue the care she needed. In the end, that had meant hospice and a funeral. Jaskier had ended up having to plan it for her, and he’d stepped up to the role with a seriousness that she hadn’t thought him physically capable of. It changed something about his personality. Julia watched him go almost overnight from a happy-go-lucky kid to a closed-off and responsible adult. The only exception had happened shortly after Rue’s death.

When the fuss from the funeral had died down, Jaskier had disappeared for the better part of two weeks. Scheduled everyone in, made sure payroll was cued to go properly, and just… vanished. He’d come back with a bloody lip and fear in his eyes, and Julia had been too heartsick to ask questions. That night they’d grieved Rue together, sitting next to one another and crying their eyes out. Jaskier had fallen asleep on their dinky little couch, and she’d tucked one of Rue’s crocheted blankets over him before she went to bed.

Since then Jaskier had been eerily quiet. At least, until Pride. After that his mood had been so pleasant that it was making Julia downright nervous. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, at last, it had.

Jaskier takes a few napkins out from under the bar top, passing them to Julia. They wipe their faces in sticky silence, and afterward, Julia pulls out a smoke and hands him one too. The click of her lighter is loud in the silent bar, echoing off the far walls.

“Can you imagine what she’d say about this mess?” he asks, a soft huff of laughter escaping him as he shakes his head. His wide blue eyes turn up to take in the fairy lights over the bar, the smoke twisting among them.

“Oh! I can just imagine.” Julia chuckles damply, shaking her head. “She always said you found love in the strangest places.”

Jaskier smiles crookedly. “She’s not wrong.” Smoke drifts from the cigarette between his long fingers, swirling eddies forming as it rises.

Julia nods, then blows a slow, lazy smoke ring. “She’d say… don’t listen to your heart anymore. Don’t listen to your head. You’ve heard enough from them for now. Go find someplace quiet, where the silence can slip in through the cracks of you and fill you up. Sometimes the answer slips in alongside the silence."

The damp groan of chagrin that escapes Jaskier makes Julia smile. "That's right,” he replies, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I would say, I hate silence, it makes me nervous."

Julia nods, amused. "And she would say-" Jaskier's voice joined Julia's and they finished together, "There's your problem right there."

With a damp chuckle, Jaskier shakes his hair out of his eyes and blinks away the last of his tears. “Oh lord, Julia. I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Suffer.” Julia jokes, knocking back her gin. “Suffer and die, probably.”

“Crash and burn, at the very least.” Jaskier snorts. He knocks back his glass of rum, then rises at last from the bar. He stubs out his cigarette as he rises. Then, with a soft clinking, he gathers all the glasses and takes them back to the sink to wash. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the splash of water against the metal sink.

Julia turns to watch him, leaning her elbows against the counter. Her head tips to the side as she watches Jaskier dry the dishes, then start scrubbing at the already-clean sink. He takes sanitizer and sprays it on a towel, then starts trying to evict the microscopic grit left around the base of the faucet. After a while, she stirs. “You think this guy might be it?” she asks, her eyes soft as she tips her head to look at her friend.

Jaskier looks down at the wet towel dripping in his hands. “I don’t know. I just… he’s different. I feel really different around him. I think I want to try, but I’m trying to just...” He grimaces, tossing the towel into the bin with a little too much force. “Take a minute to look before I leap.”

Julia breaks into a wry smile, hazel eyes sparkling with gentle humor. “Good for you. Does that mean I’m gonna be staying late a few more nights?”

“Could you? I could use the company.” Jaskier looks at her out of the corner of his eye, moving on to wipe the counter.

Julia scoffs, but there’s a playful note in her voice. “Fine, but you gotta cough up those kreteks you've been teasing me with. You owe me.”

“Oh! I actually have those back at my house, thank you for reminding me!" Jaskier exclaims, smacking his forehead. "I can't believe I forgot. I’ll bring them in tomorrow, I got you a whole case. They came in from Indonesia last week and I just spaced out about them what with everything else going on.”

Eyes lighting up, Julia socks Jaskier affectionately on the shoulder. “Hey! My man! That’s what I’m talking about.”

He laughs, rubbing his shoulder. “Anytime. It's the least I can do.”

She takes one last drag off of her cigarette, then turns to stub it out. “Listen. You want a ride home? It’s late.”

Jaskier wavers, then turns to look at the storeroom where his bike is. It’s a long ride home in the cold and dark, and he’s heartsick as all hell. It’s hard to turn her down. “Got room in your trunk for my bike?”

“Yep. No sweat. I’ll pull the car around front while you shut down.” Julia pats her pockets, making sure that her wallet, keys, and cigarettes are all in place.

By the time she’s parked in front, Jaskier is locking the door of the bar. They wordlessly wrestle the bike into the back of the car together, working with the ease of practice. In the car, Julia flips on the stereo and pops in a Patti Smith cassette. Patti’s smoky, dry voice floats through the car, twining through the bouncing and jangling guitar riffs of the opening song of the album. Oh, she looks so fine… I’m gonna uh-uh, make her mine…

They drive home in comfortable silence. Julia pulls up behind Jaskier’s car and parks. She eyes the white truck in the driveway silently, finishing her smoke as she considers it. Jaskier sits beside her, making no move to get out of the car. Finally, she stubs out her smoke and says, “Is that his?”

Jaskier nods. “Engine keeps overheating. He knows what’s wrong with it but I don’t have the tools for him to fix it, so it’s gonna stay there until I can get them for him. Honestly I don’t have the faintest idea what he wants, it all goes in my ear and then out the other. If he’d just let me take him to the store it would be fine but no-”

Putting her hand on the door, Julia eyes Jaskier kindly. “Kiddo, I don’t need every single detail. It’s his truck, I get it. Let’s go in.”

Jaskier puffs as he’s thrown off track. Then he smiles crookedly, face catching in a bar of orange light from the streetlamp outside. “Sorry. You go on in, I’ve got to bring the bike around back.”

Flourishing her keys, Julia nods. She ambles around the front of Jaskier’s house and unlocks his door, letting herself into the dark entryway. Flicking on the lights, she looks around. The place is uncannily clean and stinks of floor wax and furniture oil. Jaskier’s home usually looks a bit rumpled, like a bed that’s been slept in and then had the covers thrown back into place without being smoothed or tucked. Not dirty, precisely, but not clean. Lived in. This, though… she gives a low whistle under her teeth. Her friend had been understating the distress he’d been experiencing. His home didn’t get this tidy unless something really got under his skin.

She kicks her boots off and heads to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going, then snags a pudding out of the fridge. As she’s digging around for a spoon, she hears the jingle of keys announcing Jaskier’s arrival through the back door.

He notes the pudding cup in her hand and the very corner of his mouth turns up, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he slips past her to drop his bag in his bedroom. When he returns to the kitchen he smiles at her, leaning against the fridge.

“Better?” she asks, tearing open the plastic lid.

“Better,” Jaskier agrees, eyes dancing with a teasing light. “Still like the taste of stolen pudding?”

“Tastes better if you swipe it,” Julia grins unrepentantly. She settles on the stool with her pudding. “Gonna cough up those kreteks?”

He grins. “You’ve got it. Just a minute, darling. I have to figure out where I put them.” He turns on his foot and bounds off, rummaging around until he remembers where he stuck the package. It turns out it’s still next to the front door in plain view, hidden on a shelf amongst the other oddities it’s stacked on. Jaskier’s house may be unusually clean, but it isn’t that clean. Making a triumphant noise, he grabs it and heads back towards Julia.

Pleased, Julia opens the case up in a few quick movements and takes out a carton. She flicks it open, smelling it with great satisfaction. The rich smell of clove and tobacco wafts up to her, and she sighs in contentment. “Ah, that’s the good shit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve got it. I’ll order more tomorrow, you deserve them.”

Julia laughs. “Man, I’m earning them signing up to listen to your shit like this. Go check your message machine, I ain’t subbing in for your therapist.”

Jaskier huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine, fine, I’ve got it.” He pours himself a cup of coffee, then ambles over to the message machine and picks up the receiver. He punches in a code and waits, then jots something down on a pad of paper next to it with a brief smile flashing across his face. He turns back to Julia, wiggling the notepad at her. “Got an appointment tomorrow before I go to work. She shoehorned me into her lunch hour.”

“Huh,” Julia grunts, amused. “Better bring that poor woman lunch, she’s a saint for taking you back like that on short notice.”

Jaskier looks chagrined. He settles himself back on a stool with his back to the refrigerator. “Yeah, you're not wrong. Best kind of saint. I thought I’d bring her Thai from that place up on Market street. You know the one with the little golden treasure bag dumpling things?”

“Man, she gets treasure bags? Do I get some?” Julia teases.

“If you come hold my hand tomorrow, you can get anything you want.”

“Mm, no dice. I’m doing enough hand-holding as it is. Speaking of which, you could still bring it to me at the bar...” she grins over her mug, eyes sparkling playfully.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and sighs. “Extortionist.”

“You love me,” she snorts.

“I do,” he breaks out into a smile, leaning against the island top with his elbows. “Thanks for running me home.”

Julia shifts in her seat and sighs, leaning forward onto her elbows and giving Jaskier a frank look. “I got you, it’s no problem. It’s not every day you get blown out of the water by something like this. You gonna be ok?”

Jaskier considers his mug with a thoughtful moue, then nods. “I think I am, Julia. I’m sorry about this morning, it won’t happen again.”

Smirking, Julia shrugs. “Just do better.”

Fluffing the hair on the back of his neck, Jaskier nods. “You got it.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee, then asks, “How are you doing?” His voice is gentle as he asks the question, sensitive to the ongoing nature of her pain.

Julia shifts uneasily, squinting at her mug. “I dunno. I’m making it. Don’t wanna look for a new place yet, but I know it’s gonna be time soon.” She casts a short, hard-to-read look at Jaskier. She appreciates him asking, but she’s also not sure how much she wants to talk.

“When’s the lease up?” he asks, his eyes soft.

“Uhm…” Julia cleared her throat. “June.”

“Julia!" Jaskier gasps, exasperated. "That was over a month ago! You didn’t just sign a new one, did you? Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

“I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Julia growls, scowling.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t get all growly with me. You’re miserable there! Rue is all over that place, darling! I can barely turn around twice in there without bumping into something that breaks my heart, I don't know how you go and live there every day."

Julia presses her lips together, tapping her carton of kreteks between her fingers. She shrugs. "I can't imagine being anywhere else. All I have left is there."

Heart breaking a little, Jaskier sighs. He regards her kindly. "You can't hold on like that forever."

Scowling, she shrugs. That might be true, but she didn’t have to like it.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Jaskier looks her over for a moment. He hesitates, then says, "Why don't you just start looking? There's no harm in at least checking the paper…" he nudges her gently. "Worst that can happen is you don't fall in love with the first place you see. No harm, right?"

Julia shuffles uncomfortably, taking a big gulp of her coffee. She frowns at her cup, then looks out of the corner of her eye at Jaskier. “I can’t afford to break the lease.”

“Nonsense, you’ve got plenty of savings to cover shit like that,” Jaskier replies, still exasperated. “Besides, even if you didn’t, I’d cover you. You know that!”

“I know…” Julia grumbles, “But-”

“So what you mean is, you’re still stuck and you’re not ready to go yet.”

Julia scowls. She wants desperately to argue with him, to lash out and protect herself, but the impulse passes before the words can even form. She shrugs. “Maybe so.”

Jaskier sighs. “Julia darling, I’m convinced there’s a place in the world for you. Somewhere that will feel good and be just for you. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet someone soon? Stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger things can eat my ass,” Julia snaps.

Unimpressed, Jaskier shrugs. “Okay.” He pops open his pudding cup and spoons up a mouthful, sucking it off of his spoon thoughtfully. “Mm. Should you ever decide to come out of that suck-ass hedge-maze of grumpiness you’ve built for yourself I’ll be here. I love you, despite all your best efforts to turn into an unmanageable troll.”

“Oh what, and you’re Prince Charming?” Julia scoffs. “Puh-lease, you little drama queen.” They both eye each other for a moment, wavering, then break out in quiet laughter. Jaskier reaches over and pats her hand, and Julia smiles crookedly. She drains the last of her mug, then sets it down with a final-sounding ‘thunk.’ “All right, mijo. I won’t keep you talking all night. Thanks for the kreteks. I hope you work everything out. Call me if you need me.”

“I will. Same goes for you, darling. My phone is always on for you, and my door is always open. I don’t care what time it is, if you need me you come. Ok?”

Julia eyes him uncertainly, then nods. She had taken him up on the offer before, showing up at odd hours eaten alive by grief and unable to be alone with it anymore. “Ok. See you tomorrow.” She punches his shoulder affectionately, then heads for the door.

“Good night, Julia. Safe drive, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~*~

Jaskier puts himself back together during the intervening days. He attends therapy, brings Julia her takeout, and things return to normal at the bar. Sunday morning he rides his bike, but this time he’s sober, more himself. At the end of the night, he pulls Julia to the side as she sighs in exasperation.

Jaskier gives her a sheepish smile, leaning back against one of the counters. “Sorry, I’m not going to keep you long tonight.”

“Yeah? Good, my fish are starting to worry I’m seeing someone new,” Julia cracks. “What’s up?” Her eyes travel to the closet where the bike is and back to him. “Car ok?”

“What?” He looks over his shoulder in the direction she’s indicating. “Oh! No, it’s fine. I just wanted to take a long ride tonight after work, maybe catch the sunrise out south of my house.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Geralt. I finally decided to call him. I think I’ve got my head on straight and I still wanna do it.”

Julia sucks her teeth thoughtfully. It’s sweet to see him excited, but she worries about his heart, too. He doesn’t always guard it as carefully as he should. “You sure? From what you’re telling me, it doesn’t sound like you’re lookin’ at a walk in the park. He’s married, he’s got a family halfway across the world, he’s in the closet…”

Jaskier sighs. “I know, Julia. I was there, I remember.”

Julia arches her eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment.

Jaskier chews his lip. “I know it’s probably stupid, and I know we could break each other’s hearts, but…” he ruffles his hand through his hair. “I don’t meet men like that every day. Besides. I will definitely regret it if I don’t at least see him one more time.”

Julia rolls her eyes, but a fond smile creeps across her tawny face. “I’ll give you wanting to see him again one more time, you two really should talk. Just try not to be a dumbass, ok? Go slow. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, you’re not twenty anymore.”

The look on Jaskier’s face softens thoughtfully, and he nods. “I know. I’ll try to be good.”

“Good. Where are you planning on taking him? This doesn’t sound like public conversation material.”

“Well… that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking maybe the best place would be the bar.”

“What, don’t want to use your house?” Julia asks dryly.

“Nnnoo, uh…” Jaskier rubs the back of his neck, turning red.

“I get it.” Julia cuts him off with a quick gesture, smirking. “You wanna keep it on the up and up. Don’t you have somewhere else you could meet him though?”

“Mmm… I mean, there are some parks I could take him to, but that feels weird for a private conversation, you know?” Julia nods. Jaskier continues, “He’s staying with his wife at the hotel, and I feel like it would be rude to ask him to kick her out so we can talk. Most of my friends have these teeny apartments so I can’t exactly borrow space from them. The bar seemed like the best place.”

Julia hums, then nods. “I get it. Not like I have a porch I could offer you or anything.”

“Yeah. So…?”

Shrugging, Julia stuffs her keys into her pocket. “Go for it. Just don’t fuck all over the furniture or I’m gonna fire you,” she cracks.

Jaskier laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She might not be able to actually fire him, all joking aside, but Julia has a way of finding truly horrifying tasks to saddle him with. He isn’t about to try her and they both know it. He pushes off of the counter, then digs a faxed receipt out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “Kreteks are on the way, by the bye. Here’s the tracking number.”

Julia lights up, making grabby hands as Jaskier hands the receipt over. She scans it, then gives a satisfied smile and folds it up to stick in her wallet. “Great. All right, I’m gonna head outta here. Let me know how it goes, ok?”

“As if I’d leave you out of the loop,” Jaskier hums fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Am I gonna lose a hand if I try to hug you?”

“Yep,” Julia says with a chuckle. She reaches over and slaps Jaskier’s shoulder companionably on her way out the door. “Good night, mijo.”

“Good night, Julia. Drive safe.” Jaskier says to her retreating back, smiling. He turns away as the kitchen door swings shut and makes one last circuit of the bar. When he gets outside he closes up; there is a satisfying click as the tumblers lock into place. It has been a good night, and tomorrow is full of possibilities.

Tag List: @astouract, @smolpoe, @yes-im-the-violin-girl, @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @ladyknight-keladry, @your-lordsherlockholmes-posts, @thepassifloradiscord

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Not About Dibs

Ron Speirs x Reader

Oh HELL yes! This is for you @teenmagazines, hope you’re ready for a doozy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Talbert was a smooth son of a bitch, you had to give him that much.

You knew he was a flirt, had known it from the moment you’d met him back in Georgia. Being a nurse meant you were accustomed to feeling the lingering looks of the men you helped, it came with the territory, really. It only made sense- these men saw so few women during these years of vigorous training that the first flash of skirt was bound to catch their attention. It was natural, understandable.

But Floyd? Floyd was absolutely shameless when it came to flirting with you. Where the traumas of war had numbed any sense of charm in most of the men who had initially tried to pursue you, Tab seemed to only grow more determined, bolder in his flirtatious quips.

Normally, you laughed and brushed it off- flirting back for fun before the two of you would inevitably be called back to your positions. It hadn’t ever gone too far, the both of you having some unspoken understanding that it was all done in good fun and that nothing was probably ever going to happen.

Tonight, however, was a different story entirely.

Part of the reason you’d never truly given Floyd a second thought was due to the fact that it was common knowledge that Talbert would flirt with anything with a vagina and a smile, but if you were being completely honest with yourself- you knew it had more to do with your complicated infatuation with a certain Captain from Dog Company.

Ron Speirs was a….problem for you, to say the least.

He was brooding and intimidating and sharp-tongued, yes- but he was also one of the most distractingly handsome men you had ever met. And the bastard knew it, too.

From the moment Meehan had asked him to further your education in hand to hand combat, Ron Speirs had made it clear that he knew exactly how distracting he could be. Between the smug smirks he’d shoot your way and the borderline lewd take-down positions he’d work the two of you into, Ron always made sure to whisper corrections to the shell of your ear in such a way that your breath would catch almost painfully in your throat.

“Can’t leave your side open like that, pretty girl.”

“You’re gonna have to use your hips to twist out of this one.”

“You gonna get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you squirm like that, darlin’.”

It pissed you off, it turned you on.

Under his tutelage, you’d excelled- learning how to break away from an attacker and how to strike to kill and how to use someone’s momentum against them. His praise made you preen and you’d be lying if you said that pinning him underneath didn’t you gave you some sort of proud rush.

A strange, heady familiarity had formed- one that never really went anywhere but still seemed to connect you to each other like an electric current.

After dropping into Normandy, however, his strange charm had turned into a nearly cruel protectiveness.

More often than not you found yourself being pushed aside and dragged away from the men you were trying to treat, overlooked when it came to picking which nurses were to take rotations on the frontlines. The few times you managed to actually get out there and do your fucking job, Ron was hovering so tensely behind you that you found yourself making mistakes or tripping over yourself. And, worst of all, he didn’t even seem to acknowledge you as a woman anymore.

If anything, you were just another mouth to feed.

Another face he had to deal with.

The only time any of that had wavered was in the forests around Foy, when he’d had no say in the fact that you were to be Dog Company's medic.

The fail of firepower and shattering trees was nothing short of spectacular- a symphony of destruction that scared you as much as if amazed you. Never before had you felt the earth around you quake and rattle with such violent power that you truly believed it could crack open and swallow you whole.

And through the entirety of it, Ron Speirs had been there- shielding you from the onslaught of falling shards of timber and shrapnel with every inch of his body, holding your helmet onto your head as he used his body to shelter you from the destruction happening just above your heads.

Any and all of your screams were encouraged into the meat of his chest as he held you so close you wondered if the two of you might fuse together, his grip on you refusing to let you respond to the desperate cries of “medic” until he was absolutely sure that the onslaught had ceased for the time being.

He’d kissed you for the first time during one of these barrages, when you hadn’t screamed at all and simply clung to him as if you feared he’d be torn away from you if you didn’t. Ron had shouted your name through the chaos, and when you’d turned your head to look at him he’d crushed his lips against yours with the same anxious desperation you’d been holding him with- kissing you until your head swam and all you could hear and see and taste and feel was him, him him.

Your lips had been swollen by the time it all became quiet again, your body feeling warmer than it had in weeks and panting up at him like an idiot.

When the scream for a medic rang out, he’d hungrily kissed you once more before sitting back enough to allow you to leave the foxhole, his eyes wild as he nodded for you to go.

“Be careful,” he’d commanded, chest heaving as he looked at you. “Come back when you’re done.”

That had been nearly two weeks ago, and when you had come back he’d acted as if nothing had happened. The next day, when word of relief medics had reached the encampment, he’d sent you away again.

You should’ve known nothing would change, but it still stung.

Which brought you back to Floyd Talbert.

A group of you were sitting around a table while some of the other men played cards nearby, a bottle of some gold liquid being passed around to anyone who wanted some.

Tab, lubed up and feeling confident, was whispering some sweet thing into your ear that you were just tipsy enough to blush at- something about how ‘unfair it was that’ you were so ‘beautiful and smart’ and how sad it was that he hadn’t had the chance to ‘do anything about it’.

“I’m serious, Y/N, it’s goddamn heartbreaking, knowing you’re right here and no one is making you feel as good as you deserve to feel-”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling to the side so you can squint critically at him.

“And how good do I deserve to feel, Floyd? Hm?”

His smile was pure sex, and when he wet his lips with this tongue you couldn’t help but watch with heavy-lidded eyes.

His hand is warm on your thigh, and when he brings his forehead to rest against yours you can taste the alcohol on his breath.

“Oh, Babygirl- there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what I wanna do to you…”

The finger he drags along the seam of your pants between your legs had you inhaling sharply, heat rising to your cheeks as you somehow manage not to jump at the contact.

God, when was the last time anyone had touched you there…?

In your mind’s eye, you get a flash of memory, remembering the time Ron had shown you how to wrestle your thighs around a man’s neck and pin him down.

He’d looked so proud when you’d finally managed to do it, patting your thigh with a mumble of “that’s it, good job”

Just as your lips part to reply, a hand grabs heavily at your shoulder and you’re being pulled up from your seat bodily, snapping out of your carnal daze like you’ve been splashed with a bucket of cold water.

It takes you a moment to realize that Ron is the owner of that hand, and is currently fisting Floyd’s jacket and all but throwing him to the ground.

“Ron!”

You barely hear yourself shout his name over the sound of everyone else in the room shooting to their feet and rushing over, no one stopping the Captain but no one silently watching either.

A wave of protests and cries to take it easy floods the room, and only you are close enough to hear Ron’s venomous accusations being grit out through his teeth.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind, boy? Is this how you engage with a fellow soldier? Getting them drunk and copping a feel, huh?”

Floyd, to his credit, says nothing as Ron hovers over him face blank and hands raised submissively at his sides. What he probably shouldn’t have done, however, was let a smirk curl the corners of his full lips and shoot a wink your way.

Ron all but snarls at that, roughly letting the man go before standing up straight and turning on you.

“Let’s go,” he snaps icily. “You’re done for the night.”

You protest, backing away from him about two steps before he grabs you by the arm and is hauling you through the throng that had assembled around him and Tab and marching towards the door.

“Jesus, Ron! What’s your problem?”

He ignores you, storming the both of you out of the building you had previously been in, across the street, and pulling you behind him into the house he had usurped from a family earlier in the day.

“Ron, you’re hurting my arm, stop it!”

The grip on your bicep softens instantly, his fingers wrapping around your sleeve and dragging you by the fabric instead.

By the time you manage to shake him off, he’s already let you go, having brought the two of you into a room that must have belonged to one of the children who’d been temporarily displaced.

You stumble a few steps before catching your footing, anger flooding your veins with a rage you hadn’t felt in quite a while.

You gape at his back as he closes the door behind him, one of his hands coming up to smooth his dark hair back into place. He’s breathing hard but so are you, and when he doesn’t turn back around to look at you you decide to take matters into your own hands.

He does seem surprised when you grab his arm and yank him around to face you, his piercing eyes going wide for just a moment before becoming cold once again.

“What in the absolute fuck is your problem?!” you screech, smacking his hand when it begins to rise and reach for you. “No, NO! Don’t fucking touch me! What the fuck? What’s the matter with you?”

His glare does nothing to intimidate you, if anything it fuels your anger.

Poking his chest with a hard jab of your finger, you step into him and let him have it.

“You have no right to manhandle me like that, you hear me? You had no right to spoil everyone’s night like that—”

“I’m your commanding officer, Y/L/N,” he spat quietly, batting your hand away with all the attention he would give a pestering fly. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do—!”

“Eugene Roe and Spina are my fucking superiors, Speirs- I’m not one of your soldiers and you don’t get to pick and chose to torment me when you feel like flexing your authority! Not with me, not with any of the medics! Only Winters can do that and you know that—!”

The look he gives you is nothing less than a blaring warning, his jaw ticking with rage.

“Get out of my face, Nurse. You forget who you’re talking to—”

You smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind my face being this close to yours a couple of weeks ago, or was that another power trip on your part?”

“Y/N, I’m warning you—”

“Why? What are you going to do? Send me away again? Get all high and mighty just because Floyd has the balls to like me and fucking do something about it and you don’t?”

His hands snap out and roughly grab your face before smashing his lips to yours so hard your teeth clink together, the kiss cruel and overpowering and so goddamn hot it nearly makes your toes curl.

Your hands shove at him, anger and lust and hurt and sadness all hitting you at once and making your head spin.

“Ron, Ron! HEY!”

You’re able to turn your face from the kiss enough to bark at him, moving to step away only to realize he’s walked you back so you hit a wall softly. Your hands are still fisted in his shirt and his hands have moved from your face to your arms and for a few moments the two of you just stand there gasping for air and openly glaring at each other.

When you finally collect yourself enough to steady your breathing, you let your head fall back against the wall with a dull thud, wetting your lips a few times before you feel like you can actually speak.

“That’s….this isn’t fair. You don’t get to do shit like that—”

“Like what?” he interrupts, taking a step closer to you and hissing when you shove him back.

“That. you don't get to, fucking- fucking treat me like shit and then get all possessive when I’m not even, when we’re not...you don’t get to do that—!”

“He had his fucking hands all over you.” Ron’s voice is steel on stone, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“I wanted his fucking hands on me.”

Ron frowns at that, and you frown right back.

“You made yourself pretty clear, sending me away like some nuisance after I saved your men when no one else would. If you hate me so much, why’d you kiss me in the first place—?”

He’s shaking his head before you finish speaking, “It had nothing to do with that, I don’t fucking hate you—”

You scoff. “No?”

“No, you stupid girl—”

“Don’t call me stupid, you fucking prick. I’m not the one who results to schoolyard antics when I get a crush on someone—!”

Ron barks a laugh at that. “I don’t have a crush on you.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I left right now and let Floyd Talbert absolutely destroy me tonight?”

He says your name as another warning, and you can’t stop the amused expression that crosses your face as you shake your head.

“Unbelievable. You’re such a child.”

This time he has no reply, but the look he gives you is answer enough.

No, I would definitely mind.

Letting your eyes squeeze shut, you take a deep breath.

“What do you want from me, Ron?”

The hands that had been gripping your forearms falter slightly, and you hear the catch of his breath at the exhaustion in your voice.

When you open your eyes again, you see a look of confusion on his face, as if he doesn’t truly know what he wants either. Like he hadn’t gotten that far in his possessive thinking.

You both stand there for a few moments in silence, your breaths slowing and your fires smoldering into a controllable flame.

You take one of your hands from his chest to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, not realizing that your bun had come loose at some point.

Ron’s eyes follow the movement, and when you go to let your arm hang loosely by your side he takes your wrist and gently brings it back up to rest against his chest. He keeps his touch light enough that you can pull your hand away if you really wanted to.

You don’t.

When you begin to turn your head away Ron says your name again, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it or known it could be.

“Ron,” you reply, too tired to argue any more.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, and when you meet his gaze you see a flash of anxiety in his eyes.

The same way he’d looked at you before he’d kissed you in the forest.

You take a deep breath. “Not if you’re going to treat me like crap and send me away afterward.”

He studies you for a moment before he nods minutely, eyes flickering down to your lips as he hesitantly takes a step into you again, the hand not holding yours coming up to hold your jaw.

When he kisses you this time it is sweet, his full mouth plush against yours and nothing like the way he’s kissed you before.

He does nothing untoward, allowing you to deepen the kiss in your own time and inhaling sharply once you do.

His hair is soft between your fingers, softer than it had any right to be for someone so rough.

As you tilt your head to the side he just holds you, hands framing your face as if you’re made of glass before he finally breaks away and takes a step back to catch your reaction.

“That was...different.”

He smiles briefly at your response, a warmth in his gaze only serving to make you flush deeper.

“Bad, or—?”

No, no. Not bad,” you rush to say, taking a deep breath before shooting him a nervous smile. “It was...nice.”

“I should’ve kissed you like that the first time.”

You shake your head at that. “No, I mean- I didn’t mind it, uh….before.”

His thumb brushes across your bottom lip you swallow nervously, unused to this sort of softness from him.

“I didn’t send you away because I don't think you’re a good medic. You should- I should have made that clear.... before.”

You nod quietly. “Okay.”

“You’re, you’re really good- one of the best nurses I’ve seen—”

“No need to lay it on so thick, Ron. I already know how good I am.”

When he smirks and looks down he looks like a nervous little boy in front of you, and when his cheeks pinken you let yourself smile.

It’s obvious this is new territory for him, and the fact that he’s even trying means the world to you.

You’re still mad, still embarrassed by how wildly inappropriate his behavior was earlier, but you’re also aware of how difficult these little admissions of remorse must be for someone like him.

How difficult any sort of feelings other than rage and duty has become for all of you.

Although, you doubted he’d express any of these newfound values to anyone else.

“I don’t know how I’m going to break it to Floyd,” you mutter, winking at Ron when his head snaps up and he narrows his eyes. “Boy’s had it bad for me since we were stateside—”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.” Ron interrupts, raising his eyebrow when you frown at his tone. “Besides, I outrank him. He wouldn’t disobey a direct order.”

You scoff at that. “I don’t think you can pull rank when calling ‘dibs’ on a girl, Ron. That’s not how ranks works.”

“Oh no?” he challenges. “Just you watch me.”

Before you can quip something back to him he gives you another long, slow kiss that effectively shuts you up.

“And, just for the record,” he says between kisses. “I don’t call ‘dibs'. If anything, I call finders keepers.”

When you pout he grins wickedly down at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re such a child. I’m not a prize, I’m a catch”

“Damn right you are.”

And he gets right to proving it.

~ ~ ~

WOOHOO HERE IT BY MY LOVELIES I DID A THING AND IT MAY BE CRAP BUT IT’S MY CRAP AND I’M PLEASED WITH IT FOR NOW, OKAY?!

LOVE YOU GUYS AND THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LATELY, IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs imagines #beautiful requests are beautiful

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regardingseas · 4 years ago

Text

Ttile: Echoed Vexations (Part One, part two linked)

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Rating: Teen and up audiences (violence warning)

AO3: here! (Full story at once)

•••

Plot Summary:

It's all too easy to turn a blind eye to the past-- to believe that because someone has been shielded from harm's way, they should no longer fear the wrath of their opponent's creed. They're safe now, after all, so why would they..?

Yes, Scar and Cub are certainly "safe", but they're still haunted by memories of the Vex and their deals all the same.

An average afternoon during the HCB Base Swap is cut short when Mumbo accidentally digs up a remnant from Scar's Vex partnership days, and unfortunately for the town's mayor, the other Hermit is far from aware just how triggering the topic can truly be. Things only dissolve from there, and in the end, Grian lends a helping hand to console a friend.

•••

Additional Content Warnings:

Depictions of trauma disorders, panic attacks, flashbacks, paranoid thoughts/delusions, manipulation, gaslighting, threats, injury, and violence. Mentions of religious themes, unintentional self-harm, and non-permanent character death.

Do be careful, but otherwise, enjoy!

•••

The sun was still high in the sky even as Scar finished decorating the monument's support chains, sweltering rays beaming down and adding to the oppressive humidity of the jungle around him. With his usual jacket set aside to fight the heat, he wiped away the beads of sweat that had gathered on his forehead and grabbed a stray bucket from the sidelines. He'd nearly finished the waterfall aspect of the design-- crystal blue streams cascading over the edges of four white spanners, all joining together in the octagonal pool at the base's foundation. It was looking quite spectacular, if he were to say so himself, with the vine-coiled braces and additional water currents tying the otherwise juxtaposing themes together nicely.

Scar scooped up a fresh pail of water, filling it to the brim and hauling it towards the last pillar. He glanced down at the container as he carried it, catching a glimpse of his reflection from the liquid inside. His face shone red with effort, misplaced strands of hair having clung themselves to his tan skin.

Though unsurprised, he still couldn't help but laugh at the rippling image. "It's just my luck I'd swap with another jungle dwelling Hermit. I swear, I can never escape this climate for long. First the island last year, then all this."

With a shake of his head he returned his gaze upwards, continuing to muse aloud to the landscape before him, "You tropics are wonderful and all, but it sure would've been a nice change of pace to set up camp in somewhere like the mountains. Or pull total 180 and have landed in the tundras!"

Concepts for each design raced through his head, each idea fighting the others for dominance and tacking details onto itself, trying to land its place on the metaphorical pedestal of his imagination. A cottage with medieval influences? No, that would be far too typical, amp both of those components up. An entire village with a steampunk driven aesthetic, built into the mountainscape itself; no doubt with custom terraforming to integrate the buildings into the natural environment. That was more like it.

Scar could envision working windmills and waterwheels accompanying purposefully makeshift farmlands, historic blimps having reclaimed skies where they'd soar high overhead. Below them, eye-catching pops of colour, shining through as floating lanterns that hover above connective rope bridges.

As for the arctic concept? Something more grand would be ideal. In his fantasy, he'd created an absolute oxymoron of the words cabin and mansion jumbled together, and he adored it that way. A bottom floor made of bricked stone, the top made of logs and large windows to oversee the view. Accompanying them in the same manner would be a balcony, propped on columns that hugged the building and curved around its corners. The top deck would be open for clear days, and the space below it safe on harsher ones. Sloped roofs would be adorned with chimneys, and the interior warmed by cozy flames that were kept organized with inviting lofts. The living area could be split leveled, sinking down to create its own margin where guests could comfortably gather by the fireplace and--

There was a tug at his ankle, and next thing he knew, a bemused Scar went crashing to the ground, having been too caught up to notice the trailing plants blocking his footway. His hands shot out to catch himself, palms scraping against the concrete floor in a way similar to the childhood stunt of crashing and burning on the pavement. A stinging snapped up his arms, and the water bucket dropped from his grasp, clattering down with a metallic rumble before spilling its contents across the floor.

Scar pushed himself upright with a hiss of air through his teeth, shaking off his grazed palms and wiping them on his jeans. Pulling his foot free from the greenery and gathering himself up was no problem, what was a problem, however, was the troubling sight now before him.

The water had spilled all over one of Mumbo's redstone contraptions, causing the device to short circuit and emit a sort of maroon-grey smoke. The wires fashioned from the compacted dust had been all but washed away, any remaining pieces hanging on by threads and failing miserably whenever a signal attempted to fire; more so sizzling rather than surging alight with energy.

"Oh, crud!" he shouted, racing towards the machine and yanking on the shut-off switch to divert any further input from the broken setup.

It powered down, but Scar was still left swatting the coloured smoke from his face, coughing as the scent of burnt metallics filled his nostrils. When had he gotten so absorbed in possible building opportunities that he'd managed to miss the foliage in front of him? Why had he even been wondering so deeply about it, anyway? This event was about improving one another's bases by adding their own personal touches, not starting a new project entirely.

Scar sighed, he wasn't sure why his mind had begun drifting so far. He'd like to blame it on the wild imagination of a builder, but he had a feeling there was a little more to it. Sometimes, when the world wasn't too much to handle, it was too easy to let fall away. Maybe he spent too much time daydreaming-- he was sure there was a word for that, when trances became so all encompassing, so engrossing.

"But I don't have time to think about that right now," he reminded himself, "I really need to fix this. It doesn't look like most of this redstone is salvageable, I'll have to get new supplies to repair it. Maybe some of the circuits are okay..?"

Scar nudged a repeater with his shoe, the device making an unnatural sloshing noise in his attempt to change the feed-in. He scrunched up his nose, "Okay, nope, gonna need to replace that, too."

Running a hand through his hair in defeat, he glanced towards Mumbo's storage system before shaking his head. It wouldn't be right to use the other man's supplies without asking, let alone waste them on a mistake made due to Scar's own carelessness. He'd have to make his way back to his original base and gather the materials from there once more. When he dropped by initially, he figured he'd gotten everything he needed, but apparently hadn't accounted for dissociation-induced redstone mishaps.

"I guess we're making a trip back," Scar announced to no one, finally picking up the empty bucket to set it safely aside. He made his way over to his tent, temporarily discarding any excess materials and bidding adieu to Jellie before grabbing his elytra and setting off.

Taking to the skies, Scar squinted against the wind as it roared in his ears. His hair parted itself from where it had stuck, short locks brushed back by the flowing breeze. With arms extended for balance, and maybe a dash of amusement, he lit his rockets and propelled himself into the distance.

-----

It wasn't long before he encroached on his base again, allowing his faux wings to glide him downward where he kicked out his legs to come to a soft landing. Scar stopped before the massive drill site just on the outskirts of the forest, heading towards the agglomeration of crates and boxes he had haphazardly stowed aside. He was certain there had to be the necessary hardware in one of the many containers, though which that may be was lost on him. At least, thanks to Mumbo and his new storage system, the chest monster he'd created would soon be a thing of the past.

"I wonder how that's going for him..." Scar pondered, striding over to a random shulker and beginning his sure-to-be protracted search.

"Scar?" a familiar voice interrupted, making him peer ahead to see the moustached man himself rounding the corner. "Hello there! I see you've made yourself rather at home at my base," Mumbo teased.

He couldn't help but chuckle, "That I have. I just needed to stop by and pick up some redstone and iron. With all the ore this place has quarried up, I was sure there's bound to be more of that here than back at Larry."

Mumbo faked surprise with a hearty grin, "Getting into mechanics, are we? Have the inner workings of the temple really had that much influence on you after only a few days?"

"Now I wouldn't say that," Scar shook his head and closed the lid of the grey shulker, seeing no point in hiding the truth. "I took a tumble holding a bucket of water and it kinda spilled on one of the contraptions. I'm sorry for the trouble-- but don't worry! I came here to fix it right up. I just didn't wanna waste your materials fixing my silly error."

The suited man waved his hand dismissively, "Nonsense, it's no trouble. Have you seen the improvements you've made to that place? I mean, of course you've seen them, you built them, but rhetorically speaking--" Mumbo cleared his throat, "Just don't fret over it, I trust that you'll have it fixed right up in no time."

Scar smiled, "Thanks, dude. Now I just have to find where on Earth I put those ore…"

Mumbo gave another laugh, "You know, you can feel free to use some of my things if need be. I have no idea how you expect to find anything in this mess. I'm only trying to do a basic look through so I know where to begin when it comes to the item sorter, but even that doesn't seem to do much good. I swear, it's like trying to play a very intense game of memory, with thousands of nonsensical cards all scattered about."

Scar snickered sheepishly at the comparison, "Yeah, no kidding. But being able to use some resources without flying all the way over here would be great. Thanks again, Mumbo. I don't know if there's anything you'll need here while working, but hey, consider it free range. We're doing these things for each other in the long run, anyway."

"I'd say, 'unless we don't switch back our deeds', but in all honesty? I'm beginning to miss the ol' living monument already."

The two exchange a chuckle before returning to their previous tasks, both going back to digging through the pile of chests in preparation for their projects.

It took longer than Scar wanted to admit to finally find the crate stocked with valuables-- sighing in relief at the sight and immediately beginning to pile the items into his inventory. There were pre-smelted metals from an iron farm, so he didn't have to bother with the ore, and the redstone he'd gathered was already in dust from, meaning all he'd have to do was craft the items after returning.

"I wonder if it would've been easier to stop by the shopping district and buy these directly, instead of making them by hand..." he said, "Oh well, saves on diamonds, and these had to be used some time, I guess."

"Talking to yourself over there?" Mumbo asked.

"Just thinking aloud is all."

"I see," the moustached man nodded, pushing himself up from where he'd been examining the supplies. "I found something neat from last year! Do you wanna see?"

"Sure!" Scar agreed, setting aside his intent of flying back in favour of seeing what it was Mumbo had to show him.

He smiled and stepped over to Scar, holding out a faded piece of paper for them both to see, "I found it stuck to the bottom of a shulker box! Can you believe we used to be competition so recently?" He joked.

Scar could only stare at the advert before him, a steele blue page embellished with a vault-like ring in the center. It meant nothing to the untrained eye, but to him, all of the company's horrors were sealed underneath. ConCorp read bold text in half-connected lettering, the logo finalizing its signature with a black bow tie adorning the bottom.

"Hardly," managed Scar, having just remembered he'd been asked a question, "But it wasn't that recent."

"It was practically yesterday if we're talking business," Mumbo snickered, "but we aren't. I'm not very good at business."

"Me neither, I prefer mayorship," he said in an attempt to change the subject.

Mumbo, however, didn't seem to notice, only turning to stare at Scar with eyes wide. "Are you kidding me? You were quite literally the richest Hermit of all last year! You're wonderful at business. Sahara was amazing, and I don't for a second doubt it was the most ambitious project of our group to date, but she had plenty of bugs, being the machine powered industry that she was. ConCorp, however? That was an utter monopoly! The thing lasted two bloody seasons!"

Scar chuckled awkwardly, "I know, I know, Cub and I worked very hard. But it wasn't all us, we couldn't have done it alone."

"Give yourself more credit," Mumbo insisted, "I'm more than convinced you could have gotten your business up and running even without the help of your Vex friends. Weren't they less prominent in your company last year, anyway? You did change your guy's name from ConVex to ConCorp, after all. I think that would imply less input on their part."

"Not really," he explained, though the tension building in his body was becoming harder to conceal. He had to keep his arms rigid so that they wouldn't shake, forcing in deep breaths to avoid the shaky ones that threatened to take their place. "We just thought it would be better for business, rebranding to something more gentlemanly and all."

Mumbo nodded, "Ah, that makes sense. Though I still don't understand how you managed to work with them to begin with. I likely wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. I mean business partners with the Vex? Friends, even? How'd you do it? Not to mention why? With all due respect, what makes one seek that out?"

Scar blinked hard at the influx of questions, "Oh, it's- it's really complicated, you might not understand. Cub started it, though. I joined the team not long after, but I wasn't there when he first struck the deal with Them."

"Huh, some deal," Mumbo remarked thoughtfully, and Scar nodded.

He had no idea.

"So what made you leave that behind?" Mumbo continued.

"What?" he asked, finding his thoughts hazy. They were static nothingness, but somehow also crashing into his skull. He found himself having to dig his way through them, while at the same time trying to bury them once he passed. The last thing Scar wanted was to do was hark back to the Vex, to beckon forth Their memory with his own.

The other man simply chuckled, oblivious to Scar's inner turmoil. "ConCorp, the Vex. Did you two just get bored? Having done the same thing for too long?"

"In a sense, you could definitely say we were tired of it. It just- well, it wasn't what we wanted to do anymore. We wanted to move on to new things."

"That's fair enough. Do you blokes still get along? Or did they take the corporation's end like a sour breakup?"

This time, Scar couldn't contain his wince. "We're still friends!" he insisted, "Of course the Vex are my friends."

Mumbo finally quirked a brow, "Are you sure about that? You don't have to worry about hiding some burnt corporal bridges from me, I'm not here to judge."

"Oh yeah, I'm positive," he nodded eagerly, "I'm just- I'm gonna go work on fixing that contraption I damaged, best to get it fixed before we have to switch back."

"Buddy, are you sure everything's alright? I'm sorry if I upset you or anything."

"Nah, I'm just peachy!" Scar announced with far too much false enthusiasm, internally cringing at his failed masking abilities. Not allowing any more time for his ruse to be cracked, he uttered a quick goodbye before adjusting the straps on his elytra and dashing off, leaping into the air and back towards the ruins.

"Scar, wait!" Mumbo tried, but he was already gone.

------

The returning flight was far from the peaceful journey he'd made to the excitation site. His artificial wings beat frantically, struggling to keep up as he charged forward with excessive firepower. He paid no mind to the safety protocol regarding the rocket's cool-down period, simply heralding through the air as fast as his elytra would carry him. Scar arrived back to the monument in a trip overall much faster than when he'd left, but it seemed to drag on for an eternity. The entire excursion consisted of a battle with his own mind-- a war in which he knew he was bound to lose, but he had to hold down the fort until he was on solid ground.

Scar was lucky not to crash into the debris upon landing, frantically stumbling to the dirt and having to grasp onto a piece of wreckage to maintain his balance. His legs nearly buckled under his weight, form trembling in spite of the deep breaths he gave it his all to draw in.

He grasped hard to the rubble, trying to anchor his brain into focus. He couldn't let his thoughts spiral, he couldn't think about Them. He knew grounding techniques, and he tried to rush his way through them.

Five things you can see.

He could see the golden heart, plants, stone, the golden heart again-- the thing was too anatomically correct, he'd seen horrors too similar to it before. And the sound, it was too damn loud, too hard to ignore. Its unsteady rhythm hammering in his ears alongside his own faltering pulse.

Forget visuals, four different noises?

Scar squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to listen, focusing hard on the world around him. Still, he could only hear the heart. He could only hear it pounding, its once melodic notes like nails on a chalkboard. He could remember far too many times when he was left alone with nothing but his heartbeat and his pleas.

Tactile. Texture. What can you feel? Three things you can feel.

Internally, he screamed at his dulling senses to return. God, he didn't want to think about Them, it wasn't worth the risk. They'd been inside his head before, and the mere idea of having his thoughts broadcasted again made his stomach churn. Scar tried harder and harder to suppress the images bubbling to the surface, festering like maggots in an old wound. The more he tried to push them down, however, the fiercer they'd rise back up, and he choked down a sob in attempt to list the sensations he could currently identify.

He could feel the stone-- but he already said the stone, didn't he? He could also feel the sun. It was hot against his back. So hot. He was overheating.

The notes should have been a success, but the drops of sweat felt too akin to tricking blood. The sting of his hands felt too much like the friction burn of a rope. It felt too much like he was back with the Vex again, and as he finally sunk to the soil, he could no longer swim against the onslaught of memories crashing over him like a tidal wave.

They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still get him--

------

The day he and Cub first found the courage to try and cut ties with the Vex had been a hellish one, and the two men weren't even successful in their attempt. Hence, of course, it being the first.

Still, it had taken ages for Scar to persuade Cub that it was even worth trying, the other man having believed it was impossible to sneak anything past the Vex on their own. Scar was persistent, however, and eventually convinced his friend they had a shot if they played their cards right, if they made the right proposal without their intentions being discovered.

They'd constructed their plans in secret for weeks; discussing them only inside of untold locations with hushed whispers, or in the form of coded scrawls they'd burn immediately after reading. They couldn't be too careful, that's what they'd tell themselves whenever they worried their precautionary measures may be over the top. Even so, when a so-called conference was put on the schedule --such events were far from any type of cordial meeting, despite having been assigned the title of one-- the men were hardly prepared for it.

Their conference room consisted of a needlessly grandiose suite, with floors of marble and walls carved from deep umber wood. The polished lumber was adorned with expensive paintings in aureate frames; antique laden shelves taking up the spaces they did not. Aesthetically pleasing decorative tactics were discarded in favour of showing off their riches in a possessive cluster, with the only average items being the table and its chairs sat in the dead center of the area. A chandelier of gemstone and gold swung from above, dangling by the same chains fated to one day bind their vassals.

"Concordats, greetings!" A Vex declared as the men were led through the doorway, hovering in the air at the opposing end of the surface.

"Greetings," parroted Cub minimally, Scar giving a plain nod beside him. Fewer words meant less chance at letting their guard down.

"We've been needing to speak with you," a different Vex chimed.

"Speak with you about the business," yet another visitant confirmed.

"We actually need to discuss similar matters with you all," Scar noted, voice and expression a façade of tranquility.

"You do?" the first asked, wide smile replaced with inquiry.

"Yes," managed Cub, "we want to make you an offer, one you can't refuse."

"I do like the sound of that!" the second snickered.

"We'll hear your offer," the Vex grinned, "we only have one question first!"

"Of course, what is it?" asked Scar, in mental awe of how well their exchange was going.

"Do you recognize these?" it asked, gesturing towards the white table where a blue light flashed, fading away to reveal a small pile of ash.

Cub and Scar glanced to one another in evident confusion, the latter of the two speaking once again, "Forgive me, but we're not sure what you're talking about."

"Oh, silly me!" the Vex giggled, another flash of luminesce encompassing the soot and leaving a stack of papers in its place. As if caught in a controlled gust, they blew from the surface and organized themselves midair; levitating in a cloud of magic.

All of their once burnt notes were lined up before them, cyphers needed to crack their messages included.

Still beaming with innocence, it continued, "How about now? Look familiar?"

The blood drained from their faces, and Scar could have sworn his heart was going to burst from his chest with how hard it was drumming. He wanted to wake up, because this had to be a nightmare.

"No, we have no idea what those are," he tried.

LAIR!

Overlapping voices screamed in his head, all sounding in haunting unison. Scar hastily clapped his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to silence the uproar emanating from within.

You try to break our contract then lie to our faces?

Foolish concordats.

Terrible secret keepers, terrible subjects.

Cub seized hold of Scar's arm and made a break for the door with the brunet in tow, reaching the exit and tugging desperately on the handles. They refused to turn under his grasp, and his eyes darted back towards the Vex; floating creatures growing ever closer to their imaginary bubble providing them with the illusion of safety.

More of Them were phasing in through walls, forms non-corporeal and having no need for the sealed entryway.

Apologize.

They all ordered, Scar flinching at the simultaneous projection. He lowered his hands and turned towards Them, watching Their unmoving grins with wide eyes.

Kneel before your gods and divulge your prayers, we may just show you mercy.

"I'm sorry-" Scar whimpered, but Cub was having none of it.

"No!" the man barked, "Screw this! This isn't worth it! None of this is worth it! He's right! The business, the money, the power, it-- it means nothing! Not when you treat us like this!"

They watched him step forward, his furious yells echoing through the expanse of the room, "We're done! And we mean it! You're going to get us go or else!"

An orchestra of shrill cackles filled the air.

Oooh, it's angry.

They're fighting back!

Teach them a lesson.

"You won't dare make another-" Cub's retaliation was cut short with a cry, the bearded man dropping to the ground in a swift crash.

"Cub!" Scar called, but his attempt to step towards his friend was met only with a searing pain through his legs and the subsequent buckling of his knees. He fell to the marble, limbs heavy as if they'd been weighted. It took considerable force to balance on his arms, appendages left shaking as he peered back up towards the Vex.

He regretted it instantly.

•••

(Part two)

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #mcyt #the vex #cubfan135

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bondsmagii · 4 years ago

Note

I wanna quick ask. How's the bathroom situation?

the bathroom situation. oh god, the bathroom situation.

right now we have no shower or bath. the guy came around to do what we all thought would be a quick job pulling all the shitty tiles off and replacing them, but as he pulled all the tiles off we found what I’d long suspected: lots of damp and rot. so our man pulls everything off and rips half the wall away and pulls the fibreglass out so we can see into the wall itself and I spot that the pipe leading to the shower is leaking. it wasn’t the tiles being loose that caused the collapse downstairs after all. this pipe has been leaking since Jesus walked the earth, I’m sure, and it was actually the leak that had forced the tiles out.

well, fuck, we think, and our man says he’s going to have to disconnect the pipe to stop the leak, and then fuck the replacing the tiles, the whole bathroom will just be pulled out, shower replaced, etc. sounds good, only when he tries to freeze the pipe closed the pipe just explodes on him. it just... snaps. water cascades out of the wall for about two hours and it’s all hands on deck as our man, myself, and Vestris all pile in, trousers rolled up, hauling buckets out of the bathtub before it floods the whole house. (the fibreglass had blocked most of the drainage.) we call in an emergency plumber and eventually we get the supply to that pipe stopped, after having to inform everyone on the street, at 9pm, that sorry, but we’re gonna have to cut the water supply off for a little while. the whole street!!

this was on Monday. it is now Saturday and our man is still chasing up various contractors (it’s not his fault -- because of the virus people are in very short supply). we have a working toilet and sink but no bath or shower, so every night we go over to our man’s house (he lives just down the road) and use his shower. turns out he’s the father-in-law of our landlord, so at this point we’re all just organising everything without bothering the useless letting agency. we finally laid eyes on our landlord for the first time the other day, on FaceTime, and he was hand-feeding a newborn puppy. their dog just had twelve puppies. this is not strictly related to the bathroom story but it’s very cute.

we also met our man’s wife, who’s lovely, and we spend about three or four hours a night sitting in her living room gossiping and drinking tea and eating the most amazing cakes she gets from who knows where, so really it’s worked out a lot better than expected.

#anon #asks

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spoon-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 14

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 14 - Cages

One day later Sinead was back at the arena, this time dressed in a servant’s robe she had stolen from the arena’s laundry. The flimsy thing reminded her too much of the ridiculous outfit she had to wear on Sriluur, all sheer fabric that clung to her body, soft and itchy at the same time and offering about as much protection as wet tissue paper.

The servants' door was hidden behind a fence and an old watch house. It was flanked by two guards who stared blankly out into the air. As she neared, she relaxed her shoulders and tried to look like she truly belonged there, that she'd gone through this entrance many times and just wanted to do her job in peace. Her hand found its way into her pocket and touched the comlink to reassure her that it was still there.

She passed the guards, ignoring them as much as they ignored her, and was inside the arena which seemed unnaturally quiet in comparison to the day before. Her robe rustled as she moved down along the curved corridor. Once she was sure she was alone, she fished the comlink out.

"Hey. I'm inside."

"Any problems?" Mando sounded slightly warbled through the comlink. There was a tight quality to his voice, and she could see him in her mind’s eye pacing back and forth in the Crest.

"Nope. The guards didn't even give me a second glance."

"Good. Remember, you're there to find out where they keep the record, then get out."

“Uh-huh.” She glanced down the corridor, making sure she was alone. “Next time you get to sneak in while I wait in safety."

"The robes wouldn't fit."

Sinead grinned at the comlink. "Was that a joke?"

"Mhm. Stay on guard."

"Right. It looked like they didn’t allow any access to the top level, might as well start there. Keep you posted.” She dropped the comlink back in her pocket.

It was clear that this was a part of the arena the average guest wasn't supposed to see; the stone walls were bare and the only light came from flickering lightbulbs hanging from the low ceiling. It smelled vaguely of dust and metal and she could hear the muffled sound of people talking somewhere nearby. Occasionally a servant would hurry past, not paying attention to Sinead. The beige robe seemed to make her invisible to everyone.

Through an archway, she found a large staircase that wound from below and disappeared above her in a dizzying circle. In the middle, there was a small platform and a pulley-system to hoist heavy crates up to the upper levels. Three boxes filled with bottles were in the middle of being raised and the glass tinkled whenever the platform shook.

It didn't take long getting to the top floor. The only servant she met on the way was too busy arranging delicate glasses on a tray to give Sinead a second look.

The entrance to the staircase was hidden by a metal panel which swung out when she gave it the lightest push. Behind it was a wide corridor, like the ones on the lower levels, except this one was so richly furnished that for a moment Sinead thought she was back on Sriluur; a thick red carpet ran from wall to wall and gold tablets decorated the walls, one of which served to hide the servant stairs. Narrow tables had been pushed against the wall, carrying elaborate flower arrangements that had certainly not come from the fetid wasteland surrounding Strako. All in all, it was about the ugliest place she had ever seen.

Instead of open arches that led to the stands, there were gilded doors inlaid with rubies and a keypad was set into the wall beside every single one.

"Mando ..." she whispered into the comlink.

"What is it?" His tinny voice sounded worried.

"I'm on the top floor and there are doors here, but they're all locked with a keypad. If I were to hide records of all the people that went through here, it'd definitely be behind one of these. I'll look around after the code."

"Anyone spotted you?"

"Relax. Nobody ever notices a servant, not even the other servants.”

“Don't take any unnecessary risks."

"Aw, you know me, when have I ever taken unnecessary-"

The door to her right suddenly opened, and she nearly dropped the comlink when she saw who it was: Duiy Rundu and a human woman came out into the hall, deep in conversation. Two Wookiees, one of them Rundu's bodyguard, trailed behind.

Her body tensed, ready to bolt until rational thought overrode instinct and she bowed deeply as they approached, praying that her hair, worn down instead of in a braid, was enough to hide her face.

Nundu and the human woman continued their conversation as they passed her, neither ever noticing she was there. Between strands of hair, Sinead saw Rundu's Wookiee stop for a split second and sniff the air. Her knees went weak with fear. The Wookiee huffed and then went to follow the others down the hall.

As soon as they were out of sight she sprinted to the hidden staircase and jumped through the opening. When she was sure there was no one nearby, she fumbled the comlink out of her pocket. "Mando, I'm here."

"Haar'chak at haran! What happened?!" Mando's voice exploded from the small device.

"Saw our mutual friend but he didn't recognize me."

"Where're you now?"

"On the servant stairs. There's a basement I wanna check out before I leave."

"Even if Rundu didn't spot you the first time, doesn't mean he won't if he sees you again. Do not push your luck."

She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "He doesn't seem the type to hang out in the cellar, but I'll be careful."

"Good."

“You’re not used to sitting on the sideline, are you?”

He grunted, "Get going."

Sinead rolled her eyes as she stuffed the comlink away, trying to ignore her still racing heart.

After she had made it underground, a wide door on the first landing slammed open and two servants bustled past her carrying an overflowing fruit platter between them. As the door swung shut, Sinead got a glimpse of a kitchen, the walls dark with soot and a pillar of steam rising from one of the giant cauldrons that hung over an open flame.

She walked on. The temperature dropped as she made it further down and a harsh pungent smell permeated the air, making her eyes water. Shouts and strange noises drifted up from below. It was clear that the care with which the arena had been built didn't extend to the underground level, where the wall was made of rough-hewn stone that shone with moisture.

She reached the end, the wooden stair giving way for an uneven stone floor that radiated cold. The smell was even stronger down here and she coughed, taking care to only breathe through her mouth. Keeping close to the wall, she peered around a corner and accidentally sucked in a deep breath.

A giant chamber stretched out in front of her, directly underneath the arena. Dark-clothed figures ran back and forth between giant cages, hauling buckets of feed or heavy chains. Nearly every cage was occupied by a creature whose scream, howl, snarl, or roar filled the air. She saw Akk dogs, Nexus, Acklays, and even a Rancor that was in the middle of being wrestled into a cage by eleven workers. Sinead's stomach turned when she saw one of them bring an electro-whip down on the creature's back. There were a handful of guards down here, who all stared blankly into the air, probably just waiting for their shift to end.

The ceiling was a mess of cables and platforms that could be worked from a massive control panel on the opposite side of the room. So that was how they sent the fighters up on the stage above. Next to the console, a holoprojector threw an image up of the arena which was empty at the moment.

It looked like there were three ways out of there: the stairs, an open tunnel close to the control panel, or a small door set into the wall a few meters from her. She waited until no one was looking her way, then quickly stole across the ground. The door had been left ajar, throwing a pale line of light across the floor.

She nudged the door with her foot and stuck her head inside, glancing around the empty room. It looked like a mix between an armory and an office if the desk loaded with datapads and flimsi was anything to go by. Underneath the stink of animal, the room smelled of sweat and bitter caf. A big map of the arena hung on the wall behind it, showing every level of the place with colored arrows going back and forth.

“Mando,” she whispered into the comlink as she approached the map. “I think I’ve found the … the security office or something like that. There’s a complete map of the arena, guard rotations, everything.”

“Anything useful?”

“Hold on.” She looked at the top floor. “There’s a room marked as the ‘repository’. If there’s a record, it’s got to be in there.”

“We still don’t have a way in.”

“You don’t have to be so negative. I’m working on it.” She turned to the desk and rifled through a stack of flimsi.

"What are you looking for?"

"Maybe whoever is in charge of security wrote the codes down somewhere."

"Are you serious?"

"This office is a mess, someone left the door open, and I haven't been discovered yet. Clearly, security isn't their strong suit. Aha!" She pulled a scrap of flimsi out from under a cracked datapad. "The codes for every single keypad in the building." She didn't even try to keep the smugness out of her voice.

"You're ... you're serious?"

"It's like they're asking to be robbed." She took a moment to memorize the code for the repository. “Okay, I got it. Meet you outside.”

“Be careful.”

“When am I not? Wait- hold on …” she carefully tucked a datapad out from under a mountain of flimsi. “That’s interesting …”

“What is?”

“I found the guard roster. Says here there are only two guards on duty on the top-level during fights. I guess they’re short-staffed.”

“That’s very careless.”

“Lucky break for us.”

“Mhm.”

“I think that was everything. Going now.” She replaced the comlink in her pocket and snuck out of the office when the coast was clear, leaving the door ajar behind her. The workers had managed to get the Rancor into a cage where it walked around a tight circle, snarling at whoever came too close.

The staircase towards the surface was in sight when a bloodcurdling scream cut through the noise of the beasts. Sinead froze and looked around, but it was clear that it hadn't come from any of the workers, who hadn’t faltered.

It had come from the tunnel, she was sure of that. Without even realizing, she had begun creeping around the room, keeping close to the wall and behind cover whenever possible.

The tunnel turned out to be only a few meters deep and ended in a turn. She peeked around the corner and the sight that met her turned her blood to ice;

Rows and rows of cages filled most of the chamber, packed tightly with sentients dressed in grey rags. The air was heavy with the stink of sewage and misery and the only source of light came from flickering lanterns hanging from the low ceiling. She watched wide-eyed as two guards dragged an unconscious human across the floor and threw her into an overflowing cage. Her whimpering when she hit the ground made Sinead’s stomach turn and unbidden memories flooded to the surface.

So slavery wasn’t as forbidden as Rundu wanted her to think.

She crept forwards, keeping close to the ground.

A male Togruta who sat slumped in one corner looked up with a start and their eyes met. For one second, Sinead thought he was about to call for the guards when he stuck a filthy hand out through the bars and motioned for her to come closer. She did so, slowly and silently.

"I’ve never seen you lot down in the undercroft,” the Togruta whispered, his eyes taking in her now dirty robe. “You aren’t a servant, are you?”

"Will you call the guards if I say no?" Sinead whispered back. The others watched her out of the corner of their eyes.

The Togruta spat on the ground. "If you're not a servant, who are you?"

"That's not important right now." She looked over the huddled slaves. "Are you ... are you fighters?"

The Togruta scoffed. "Most of us can barely walk. They had us work in a refinery until it exploded. Don’t know where they’re sending us.”

"When?"

The Togruta gave her a look. "Why do you want to know?"

"I wanna help you."

"Why?"

Sinead grit her teeth. "Let's just say I have no love for slavers."

"I overheard one of the guards saying they'll move us tomorrow after the fight."

Shit. That complicated matters.

"Tomorrow. I can work with that."

The Togruta pressed against the bars, giving her an unconvinced look. "How are you gonna take out the guards? They're not gonna just let us walk out of here."

"I'll figure something out. Besides-" she stopped when a guard went past on the other side of the cage. "I'm not alone."

"Hope you have an army, otherwise it won't do you any good."

"Just ... see if you can get the word out, find out who's able to fight. I'll handle the rest."

The Togruta huffed out a laugh. "Sure thing. Looking forward to sharing a cage with you."

She ignored him. “I’m looking for someone who might’ve come through here, maybe some years ago, his name is Kyen Beck.”

“Doesn’t ring any bells.”

She gritted her teeth. “Ask around, okay? See if anyone has heard of him, knows what happened.

“All right.” He bent his head down as another guard passed. "If you keep going, you'll get to the old sewer system and that'll take you all the way through the city. That's how they got us here without anyone knowing."

Sinead eyed the surrounding room; it looked like it was built the same time as the rest of the arena, but support pillars of durasteel kept the sagging ceiling from caving in. "I take it this isn't standard procedure?"

"Have you seen Strako? They never hid what they did, not until the New Republic came along. The politicians are so busy pretending to have the moral high ground that they don't bother checking that their laws are being followed. They don't care. Before, at least the rest of the galaxy knew what kind of place this really is."

"I promise you we're gonna change that. What's your name?"

The Togruta studied her for a long moment. "I'm Belan."

"Just hang tight, Belan. Okay?"

He bared his sharp teeth in a grin. "Whatever you say."

The darkness worked in Sinead's favor as she scurried from cover to cover, hiding behind durasteel boxes or an overfilled caged. The slaves watched her with dull eyes and none of them alerted the guards to her presence. They were quiet except for the odd whispered conversation that cut off as soon as she neared. The silence unnerved her; Sriluur had been hell, but sometimes when she ate dinner with one of the families or snuck off with Kyen it had felt almost ... normal. It was like these souls had been zapped of all energy and were now just waiting like banthas to the slaughter.

The entrance to the sewer had been blocked with a badly fitted grate and there was just enough room for Sinead to wriggle through a gap, though not without leaving slimy streaks across her robe. The sewer was dry, but years of use had left an inch-thick coating of sludge that squelched as she moved through the semi-darkness. She nearly gagged at the harsh smell. Smaller pipes led away from the main one but none of them were big enough for a human to crawl through. A rodent skittered across the ground just a few meters from her.

She passed an abandoned droid head that had somehow found its way down here and came to an intersection, where a small arrow had been carved into the stone at eye height, and she followed it through what soon turned out to be a labyrinth of tunnels that spanned the entire city.

Her hand brushed the comlink in her pocket and she pulled it out.

"Mando?" she said, making sure to breathe through her mouth as she passed a truly pungent pile of sodden fabric that blocked one of the smaller pipes.

"Finally! Where are you? You should've been out by now!"

"I'm in the sewers."

She could sense his confusion through the comlink. "Why are you in the sewers?"

"It's a long story. Tell you later.”

Mando sighed. "Fine. We’ll talk at the ship."

Rounding a corner, she spotted pale sunlight ahead, and emerged, breathing weakly and covered in sludge, at the bottom of a dried-out canal, the wall too high and slippery to scale. The light felt like needles in her eyes and her robe had been reduced to a filthy, tattered mess.

She walked until she came to a rusty ladder bolted into the wall, the metal groaning when she grabbed hold of the first rung, leaving muddy spots behind as she slowly made her way up into the city.

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x oc #mando x oc #din x oc #din djarin x oc #fanfiction #ends of the earth #oc: sinead

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oozmart · 5 years ago

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Here’s another oneshot about Dahlia and the Sawyers! Hope yall enjoy :)

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Dahlia plopped down on the couch, took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. She just danced like she’d never danced before to her favorite mix tape. She might as well, she was home alone for once. The house was her ballroom.

It wasn’t often Dahlia was home alone. Although no one could ever really be home alone in the Sawyer house, Grandpa was always there. Fortunately he didn’t say or do much. He just sat in his chair and watched her go to town on the make-shift dance floor that was the Sawyer’s underground living room.

Dahlia was grandpa-sitting while the boys went hunting. Drayton went with them to help spot decent prey. The pickings have been a bit slim lately, but thats just how it is this time of year. Its slow season. Drayton was always the crankiest around this time of year. “WE’RE LOSING MONEY EVERY DAY,” he’d yell, “IT’S BAD ENOUGH YOU BOYS AREN’T BRINGING HOME ENOUGH GRUB! NOW I’VE GOTTA DO THE WORK OF 3 MEN!” It was nothing new to anyone who lived under the same roof as him.

Dahlia may not have been hunting, but she thought she worked hard enough taking care of the house. She was the only person, besides Drayton, who had a real job and earned any income for this family. Even on her day off she took the time to clean the house, do the dishes, do the laundry, sort the leftovers in the fridge, feed grandpa, AND bake 2 pies. Those boys could barely do one chore on a good day, let alone all of them.

These acts weren’t simply out of kindness or obligation, however. Dahlia was itching to get on Drayton’s good side, because she had some special plans for her and her favorite Sawyer brother, Chop Top. The tense energy and busy schedule Drayton created left them little to no wiggle room for alone time as a couple, despite their many attempts. She wouldn’t fail tonight though. She was feeling extra frisky.

The small lady wasn’t sure why, but her heart yearned for her lover’s arms more than ever. She wanted him to hold her, pin her down, tie her up, bite her, cut her… Nothing was off limits tonight. Dahlia flustered herself over the nasty thoughts. She fanned her face, still sweaty from all the dancing. She thought about how Chop would beg for her when he wanted to have her. He would do anything just to get in her pants. She wondered how he would react when the tables were turned. What would he do if he saw her beg for him? Would he like it? She placed her hand on her leg, and slowly slid it up to her pelvic bone, thinking about the night ahead of her.

In the midst of her fantasy, she heard a small moan. She looked to grandpa, who was wiggling a bit in his chair. Dahlia sniffed the air. Smoke? She gasped, “MY PIES!!!” She leapt from the couch and ran to the kitchen. She frantically slipped on a pair of oven mitts and opened the oven door. She sighed from relief, “A bit well-done, but still good! Phew! Thanks, grandpa!” She pulled the tray out of the oven and set it on top of the stove to cool.

“YOU TWO COON SHITS CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!!!” The sound of Drayton’s complaining echoed through the dirt walls. Dahlia turned sharply, realizing they were finally back from a long day’s work. She threw off her mitts and bolted for a mirror. She bumped a skeleton sitting at a small vanity to the floor to fix her hair. She took it down from her ponytail, and shook out all the sweat. She smiled at her reflection, cute as usual. A little wet, but it was kinda sexy.

“Aw, come on, bro! I- It wasn’t that bad! We got oooooonnnneeee!!!”

Dahlia’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing her lover’s raspy voice.

Drayton was the first to enter the living space, “I told you once, I told you a thousand and ten times! ONE WON’T CUT IT!!!” Dahlia skipped over to Drayton with a chipper attitude, much to his dismay, “Whatdya want, girly?” he spit out that nickname like it was a disease.

Dahlia gestured to the room, “Notice anything?” Drayton looked around a moment, as she waited in anticipation for some gratification.

“You, uh, you knocked over that there skeleton.” He pointed to the skeleton on the floor beside the vanity. “You oughta pick it up.” he ordered, making his way to the kitchen. Dahlia rolled her eyes and huffed. She stomped over to the skeleton and sat it back up on the stool, its head rolling off in the process. Ignoring the decapitated head, she proceeded to follow behind Drayton. “I cleaned the house! In fact, I did all the chores.” she boasted, hoping he might give her just a sliver of praise.

“You did the dishes?” he asked. She nodded proudly. “Well,” he continued, “looks like you’re gonna have to do more once those pies get eaten.” He continued to go about business as usual, as if she didn’t work her ass off all day for this very moment. She sighed and shrugged it off, that was the closest to a thank you she would get out of him for today. His mind was obviously in other places.

Bubba came into the kitchen lugging a chunk of meat he shaved off of some poor idiot who got caught. Despite being covered in blood, he grabbed Dahlia and pulled her in for a hug. She cried in disgust, “BUBBAAA!!! You’re gonna get blood in my hair!!!” She pushed herself off of him, and gave him a cold stare. He looked down in shame, wiping his hands on his apron. As if that did anything, the apron was blood-soaked too. Dahlia gave another exasperated sigh, “You boys are going to be the death of me…” she muttered, and patted the big-little brother on the arm.

“H-H-Hey, cook! Whereya want this???” Chop Top shouted from the entrance holding up a bucket of gouged out eyeballs. Drayton shouted back, “Where the fuck else would I want them?!?!? Bring’em here to the kitchen, ya dumbass!!!”

Dahlia’s eyes became hearts as her man hobbled across the room like a goblin. She threw herself against a large pipe and struck a seductive pose, only for him to pass her right by. This girl just about had enough of the Sawyer’s for one evening. The boys hadn’t even been home for 10 minutes and they seemed to be going out of their way to make a fool out of her.

Chop Top set the bucket on the counter next to Drayton. Once this small task was complete, he set his sights on Dahlia. He creeped over to her, and stood over her unnoticed for a moment. “H-H-Hey lil mama.” he said softly.

A chill went down Dahlia’s spine. He called her by her pet name. This set off all those feelings she had when she was sitting on the couch mere moments ago. She quickly turned and jumped up into his arms, smacking a big kiss on his lips.

Losing his balance, he fell to the ground with a thud. “AH!” he shrieked, “You stupid bitch!!! Jumpin’ like a spider monkey all over me!” Still on top of him, she continued to kiss him all over his face. The average person may find him grotesque, but she thought he was a hunk. Chop Top knew better though. This behavior was weird, even for Dahlia. “W-W-What’s wrong with you?” he couldn’t help but smile when he asked. As odd as it was, he did enjoy the physical attention.

“Ooh, I just REALLY wanna listen to the radio tonight, big daddy! Can we? Can we, please?!?!” That was their little secret code term for “let’s get our groove on.” While his pet name for her was Lil Mama, she called him Big Daddy. She didn’t say it often, but when she did it meant she wanted it bad.

Chop Top’s pale white face turned red like a cherry. He never saw her so eager before. It was he who usually initiated everything. It was very different throwing yourself at a girl than having a girl throw themselves at you. It made him a bit nervous, he could feel a sweat start under his arms. All he could mutter out was a small stutter, “Y-Y-Ya?”

Drayton stomped over, and grabbing Dahlia by the arm, yanked her off his lap. “No one’s gonna listen to nothin if we don’t get any work done!!!” Still having a grip on her, he tossed her towards the kitchen. He then proceeded to grab Chop Top by the shirt and lift him onto his feet. Chop Top didn’t say a word, which was very unlike him. “Whats the matter with ya boy?” Drayton asked, mildly concerned but mostly annoyed. Chop Top just stared blankly in Dahlia’s direction, his heart beating like he just ran a marathon. The old man had no time to waste, so he just shook his head and left him there to stare. “Well, i’ve got 2 other sets of hands that aren’t completely cuckoo shit yet.” the old man muttered under his breath, but still loud enough that everyone heard.

Bubba continued to haul meat back and forth from the cutting room to the kitchen. He passed Chop Top with his blank stare and stopped. He was worried about his big brother. He was usually loud and obnoxious, but he suddenly seemed dumbfounded. Bubba tapped his arm as gently as he could. He continued to give little nudges until Chop Top finally shook out of the trance. “BUBBA!” he shouted, “You ever feel like your hearts gonna explode and your body is shakin and your mind is goin CRAZY OUT OF THIS WORLD?!?!”

Unsure how to properly respond, Bubba simply shrugged his shoulders. He stayed by his side still, worried his brother was falling ill. The middle Sawyer realized his little bro wouldn’t understand, and quickly brushed him away. The big man sighed, hoping everything was going to be alright for his favorite brother.

Chop Top moseyed to the kitchen and stood next to his little woman as she began cutting up the pie. He wanted to speak, but he found himself unable to open his mouth. Once again frozen in time. He watched her as she casually worked like a little housewife, enamored by each motion she made. Her fingertips carefully graced the crust of the pie, as not to crush it inward. Her eyes, so soft and yet so laser focused on the task at hand. Her lips at a slight curve, not quite a smile, but still ever as content. He watched on as she used the knife to scoop up a slice and plop it onto a plate, the berry filling spilling out of the sides. Dahlia looked up at him, dead in the eyes. She lifted the knife up to her mouth and licked off the red cherry goo.

He just couldn’t look away from her, how could this small creature have this much power over him? What did she have planned? What was she going to do to him? Licking that knife got his hopes up that she might slice his neck or stomach. She usually refused to hurt him like that, despite him being an outspoken masochist. What changed in her that made her so…… horny?

“Chop Top? Hello? Are all the lights on upstairs?” Dahlia tried to get his attention by waving her hands in his face. “You’re starting to make me worried!” The tall man blinked himself out of a trance once again, and stammered out a small response, “I-I-I’m ok.”

She smiled into a sigh of relied, “Well thank goodness!” She picked up the plate of pie and a fork, “You gotta taste some of my delicious cherry pie! I made it just for you!” A small blush showed on her cheeks as her smile grew wider. She scooped up the tip of the slice onto the fork and held it up to her lover’s mouth. He opened his mouth and the fork slid in. He took the bite and slowly chewed, enjoying the sweet taste of the berries. Dahlia was still smiling like a lovestruck fool right up at him. “If you’re not in the mood to eat right now we could always do something else.” she bobbed her head from side to side to help insinuate her sexual intentions, “If you’re in the mood? I know I am.” She continued bobbing her head, waiting for a response.

Drayton butted between the two of them to grab two plates and the knife. “You oughta stop that weird head shit you’re gonna snap your neck.” he shook his own head in frustration before going to the other side of her to cut up some pie for him and Bubba. Dahlia gave a huff. Drayton seemed to love getting between the two of them. He didn’t exactly approve of what Chop Top and Dahlia did behind closed doors, so he pretended like he didn’t know. Although Dahlia was sure everyone in the house knew based on how loud they’d turn the radio up certain nights.

Chop finally came to and spoke up, “Listen babes, did you- uh, do something different? With your hair or your eyes or something?”

“My eyes?” She tilted her head in confusion. How does one change their eyes, she wondered.

“I just feel like you’re different today. Its makin me nervous!” he admitted. Dahlia turned on her bedroom eyes, and took a step closer to him, “I think you’re nervous because for once I want you, rather than you wanting me.” She placed her hands on his chest, rubbing up and down sensually.

A chill went up his spine when she touched him. Despite the shift in their usual dynamic, he was extremely turned on. “Oh, I want you! Don’t make no mistake about that, lil mama!” He took her hands and wrapped them around his waist. He rested his arms on her shoulders and began to sway from side to side. The nerves melted away into his typical horny energy. She giggled as she followed his rhythm. He lowered his face down to hers and placed his forehead against hers, with a wild, toothy grin plastered on his face.

Dahlia was still smiling like an idiot too, as she whispered, “I love you, Bobby.”

Chop Top chuckled. He was once again nervous, but he had a better handle on himself now for some reason. “I love you too, lil mama.” He took a step back and grabbed her by the wrists, letting out a laugh like a deranged hyena, he started to dance to music only he could hear playing in his head. Dahlia joined in, whipping her head around and letting her hair fly everywhere.

Drayton and Bubba watched on from the kitchen table. The eldest Sawyer shook his head disapprovingly, “Buncha idiots….” He turned to his littlest brother, “Bubba, don’t you ever get yourself mixed up in that bullshit.” Bubba stayed quiet as he watched the couple dance. All he saw was a happy couple. He wanted to have something like that. He wasn’t sure how or why, but it was a nice thing to want.

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honeykngdom · 6 years ago

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sacrilegious | demon!sweet pea x reader

SUMMARY: I was wondering if you could do a story where sweets is a demon? idk maybe reader finds out or something. maybe he has a sweet spot for her. WARNINGS: cursing, mild violence , mentions of death WORDS: 2600+ | RATING: ☁ ♕ A/N: I’m not entirely sure where I planned on going with this, but I would be open to continuing and doing a part 2 if people were interested. I’d have to do a little more research on what kind of demon I wanted to use specifically, but I think this is a pretty interesting start .. lemme know whatcha think!

It’s been thirty-six days since I had first seen her, and she had first seen me. Not that I was counting, or anything, but just that I was cautiously much more aware of her existence as a whole. Her presence, once a quiet lull left lurking in the background, now seemed to be at the forefront of my thoughts, and her face filled my long days. Her name consistently remained on the tip of my tongue.

You like her, don’t beat around the bush.

To be frank, she terrified me.

She wasn’t as easy as the other humans to read, and not nearly as gullible or ignorant. During a moment of weakness, she had been able to see a part of me I had been carefully hiding from the rest of the world. And at that moment, I hadn’t realized that the situation had been compromising. I had been having harmless fun, or so I thought.

I’ve spent decades enjoying various types of music and food, dipping my toes into so many different environments and cultures, but had never felt quite so cozy than I did here in Riverdale. The Southside was nothing if not glorious, and every sadist’s dream. I had been able to find a skin that fits right, utilized what I was for a greater purpose, felt like I belonged. The Serpents embodied everything I was and stood for, and so brandishing the double-headed snake felt like nothing but second nature.

It was a Saturday night and being twenty-three and careless; I took to the Wyrm’s neon fixtures and smokey pool tables in need of release. Whiskey and I had a longstanding friendship and mutual agreement, but I suppose it might have been the mix of Fogarty’s tequila that loosened my grip.

But I felt good. Better than that, even, I felt satisfied.

Being a divine spirit, immoral or otherwise, I never quite had the luxury of feeling utterly content with anything. Not in food, not in knowledge, not in sex, and certainly not in power.

Why else would I still be here?

But being here, surrounded by these people, enjoying each and everything I craved all at once, it was exhilarating. And, in that small moment where my realities blended and the lines blurred, I found myself stumbling out of the men’s washroom, struggling with my zipper. The heavy thrum of the bass mixed with the loud, overlapping conversations made an erratic melody in my head, but the faintest hint of despair mixed among the chaos pulled my attention away from the bar, and towards the rear exit that led to the parking lot.

Smoking had become an ugly habit, truthfully, but one that seemed to feed the insatiable monster within me. In spite of the darkness that consumed me as I ventured into the night, I was able to register the heat signatures of the duo standing across the lot. One, roughly six-foot-two, and the other much smaller.

Oh, look. Snacks.

Naturally, I couldn’t kill one without killing the other. I certainly wasn’t overly picky with my meals but knew very well I couldn’t leave a witness - especially not one as delectable as she was.

Fixing my leather collar, my long legs carried me forward as I pinched the cherry off my cigarette and tossed it in the general direction of the butt-bucket bolted to the side of the post. The closer I ventured, the easier it was to make out what they were saying;

“Let me go!” cried the young woman, her voice not so soft given her plea.

It was met with a snort, followed by another rough shove. The chain-link fences moved against each other, and by the looks of it, if the perpetrator didn’t settle down, he was going to draw far too much attention to himself.

Amateur.

“You’re on my side of the tracks, bitch,” he snarls, gripping onto the front of her jacket to pin her to the fence, “I told you what’d happen if I caught you down here again.”

Fear illuminated her features, sinking into her bones. It was obvious. It could have been pitch black, and she could have been silent, I still would have been able to feel her anxiety pulsating from inside the bar. Her figure, now surrounded by a thick wavering aura, began to look smaller as she tried to pull her arms into her chest to cover herself.

Time for some fun.

“You know,” I interjected as I stepped out from the shadows, hands steady in my pockets, “Most people don’t waste their time with pleasantries. So go ahead, show her. What’s gonna happen?”

“Why don’t you fucking mind your business, Serpent?” the man retorted over his shoulder, not really paying me as much attention as I wanted.

My fists clenched tightly at my sides, nails digging into the flesh as the heat travels from my chest and into my face.

“That’s a big mouth for such a small person.” I replied coolly.

“Even bigger fists.” he responded, lifting his chin as his boots echoed in the empty lot. The man takes an advancing step, brown hues boring down profoundly into the mine.

I lifted my mouth at the corner, head tilting to the side, “That so? Wanna see mine?” There was a moment when the male’s body tensed in reaction to my words; he narrowed his eyes almost appearing to do a double take as I take another step forward.

“Get lost,” he spat, turning back to his victim; she looked past him to where I stood, face not painted in relief, but in terror, as my features came into the light. “This isn’t any of your business.”

It was in this moment that I could feel the slip. My eyes darkened, vision switching from straining against the darkness of the night, to crystal clear shapes and heat signatures. Perfect for hunting. My hand shot forward, gripping the man by the throat tightly; my upper lip twitched in anticipation, feeling the heat bubbling angrily in my core, screaming, aching, pleading to be released.

Never fucking satisfied.

Letting that feeling get the better of me, I gripped his wrists tightly in my hands, then twisted them back until I was met with deafening snaps as the cartilage and bone gave way under my strength, “On this side of the tracks, everything is my business.” I whispered into his ear, unable to contain the slight joy that graced my lips as he screamed mercilessly in my arms.

And in the next instant, he ceased to exist.

Way to play with your food, you pig. We didn’t even have any fun.

I looked up to where the woman stood, paralyzed in fear.

Well I mean, there’s still her -

I had full intentions on finishing what I had started; I picked up the lifeless body from the ground, hauling him over my shoulder as the woman took off.

There can sometimes be nothing more terrifying than the very dead of night. When night creeps in and washes away the everyday hustle and bustle of life that once filled every corner of a house, even the most confident of people can be left feeling as if something is watching them. In the silence that accompanies darkness, every last sound can appear deafening. And for some, the things that go bump in the night are the things of our nightmares.

I must have been one of hers.

“For fuck sakes,” I growled; I’d just have to enjoy him later. I knew there was no real measure of distance she could put between us that would make her safe. Her scent was left in a trail behind her, like a beaming arrow guiding me to her. Discarding the body into the dumpster just behind the bar, I wiped my hands on the back of my denim and lifted my nose to the sky.

It took me a moment, focusing on the path her scent had made, visually envisioning where exactly she was - heading west on Chopin, towards Bo’s convenience store. Within seconds, I was stretching my long legs behind her, listening to her heart erratically beating in her chest, pumping the deliciously warm life-force within her veins. She smelled sweet, almost too sweet like a heavy sugar icing that came with the pre-made store bought cakes.

We were just passing his shop doors when I grabbed hold of her by the elbow; she protested against my restraints, kicking my shin rather roughly in her attempt to evade, but alas, no such luck. I pulled her into my side, turning into the alley just behind the shop only to have her pressed against the brick.

Even in the darkness, it was easy to see the way her blood raced up into her neck and flushed her face with a lovely pink. Her eyes were wide with fear, lungs filling with air in short gasps. I loosened my hold, but did not put any more distance between us, “I’m not going to hurt you.” I uttered softly, “That was a stupid idea.” I continued once she had calmed herself enough.

“You -” she breathed, mouth pulled back into a grimace. Her eyes wandered over the length of my body, my shoulders, drinking in every last feature. She knew me, she knew who I was - or, rather, who I was supposed to be, “You killed him.”

“I did the Southside a favour.” I argued.

“You snapped his arms like they were twigs,” she replied, her eyes narrowing as she glowered up at me, “And then his neck. You picked him up like he weighs nothing -”

“To be fair, you don’t weigh very much either.”

“We’re not talking about me.”

I let my brows raise, “Can we? Talk about you?”

She paused, her heartbeat stuttering for the briefest moment. After a few seconds of deliberation, she tries to wiggle her wrists in my grasp, “Will you let me go?”

“Will you run from me?” I countered.

What are you doing?

She shook her head slowly, meeting my gaze with a quiet ‘I promise’ that was barely audible to the human hear. Carefully, I removed my hands from her wrists, watching as she rubbed them with a slight wince; I offered an apologetic smile, and although it was measly, she seemed a little more at ease being in control of her own body again.

“Why did you run this time?” I asked after a few moments, bringing another cigarette up to my lips, lighter flickering against the breeze.

“You were going to kill me next.” she deadpanned, taking the smoke from between my lips to inhale deeply; her shoulders seemed to relax more visibly with her next exhale.

“You’ve seen me before,” I reminded her, stealing my smoke back, “I didn’t kill you then.”

“Why not?”

Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure why I hadn’t. My shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, leaning my body against the brick next to hers, “I followed you home that night.” I began after a few moments, “I was going to. Kill you. In all of my decades on this earth, I’ve been very good with keeping what I am a secret, until you and your pesky camera.” She glances up at me impishly, hands disappearing into her pockets. “I sat outside of your window for hours, waiting until your mother’s Vicodin kicked in and the wine put her to sleep.”

“What changed your mind?” she asked, this time her voice a little less stable, much quieter.

You.

Involuntarily, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as I mulled over the several possible answers - all of which was true to an extent, but none that would be satisfactory, I was sure. “Why didn’t you scream?” I watched her features drop into a scowl at my words, “It’s not often people see me like that without becoming hysteric or jumping into a sort of frenzy,” she doesn’t meet my eyes this time, choosing to keep her gaze fixed on the ground as she reached for the cigarette I extended towards her.

She flinched, momentary fear replacing the ease that settled over her bones. There it was again - undeniably sweet and sickly, thundering in her chest, pumping through her veins. “Honestly? Mythological creatures fascinate me.”

I felt my brows pull together, “Do I look like a myth to you?”

“You know what I mean,” her eyes flutter in a gentle roll, inviting me to follow her as she began to drift towards the street again. “I was more concerned with getting home to figure out what you were, more than I was actually worried about you killing me.”

“That’s .. incredibly careless, actually. Are you sure you’re human?” I teased lightly as I settled into a leisurely stroll alongside her.

“Just barely.” she quipped.

“Don’t worry, me too.” I glanced sideways down at her, and winked. Immediately, her skin lit up with a soft pink. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

She shook her head once, “No, but I’ve got a thousand questions.”

I wasn’t entirely sure I had any of the answers she was looking for. I mean, of course I did, I just wasn’t sure if talking about it was going to make things worse.

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of tires running over puddles and the wind in the trees. Riverdale had become eerily quiet, and not in a comforting way. It wasn’t until I recognized what street we had turned onto before I realized we were headed towards her home.

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

“Sweet Pea,” I replied.

“Your real name.”

“That is my real name.” I assured her; it wasn’t a total lie. That was the name I received when I had first been initiated, that was the name that stuck. It had been an odd choice, but given that I appeared far scarier than my name sounded, it made me the perfect candidate to take care of the dirty business.

Not very many people expected a six-foot-five body of muscle to come out with a pair of pliers after they’ve been told they’re sending in Sweet Pea. Truthfully, I took far more joy out of handling those situations than the others would have.

“You really expect me to call you that?”

I shrugged indifferently, “You can call me whatever you’d like. I’m not picky.” We came to a slow crawl, stopping just outside of the pathway littered with wilting flowers and weeds. The lights inside the home remained off, but the light above the door came to life as we ventured near.

She looked up at me from under her lashes, bottom lip caught between her teeth; I had seen this before. Many times. I was no stranger to body language, and I could read her loud and clear; I had been intimate with people before, and never once had it posed an issue. People, men and women alike, were incredibly needy and driven by carnal desires, making prey such as the girl before me irresistibly enticing.

But I had never, ever, been intimate with someone that knew what I was.

“How about I call you tomorrow, and take you out for breakfast since you .. took care of that guy.” she offered, holding her cellular device out. “You eat breakfast, right?

I took it from her fingertips, “I prefer my cattle live, but I suppose fried bacon will have to do.” I joked, noticing the way the corners of her mouth threatened a smile. “I look forward to hearing from you.” I mused quietly, holding the phone back out to return it to her.

“Goodnight, Sweet Pea.” she murmured, twisting the knob on her front door.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

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foxtophat · 5 years ago

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i have this fic i’ve been working on consistently since far cry new dawn came out, but i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to get it all done because it’s just kind of massive and obnoxious to think about as a whole... mostly b/c it spans 17 goddamn years. BUT

the story is about nick and kim after climbing out of the bunker, and trying to just move forward with life when there’s not really a forward to move towards? anyway, nick goes out into the woods and finds human tracks near the house. the ryes have sort of become a community pillar - well, they will when the community shows up again - so people who DO survive have stopped by and the ryes have done what they can to help. so when he sees tracks in the woods, he’s like “shit, someone is either in need of help or they want to fuck us up, gotta go see what’s up”

the thing he finds is john fucking seed, sick and living in squalor on top of a bunker. nick almost shoots him, really WANTS to shoot him, but it feels... really kind of gross, wanting to murder a dude who looks like he’s already dead. and without kim around to remind him of just how much shit john pulled 7 years ago, nick... makes the decision to bring the problem to her. so he drags john back to the house, hoping that kim will have the willpower nick doesn’t, only to find that she’s not willing to pull the trigger on him either.

they decide to shove him in a room and see if he even makes it before deciding what to do about it, and over the next few hours they basically debate themselves into keeping him around and seeing if the extra hands won’t help around the house. after all, they have carmina to worry about - having an extra set of hands on the property would help them raise her better. of course, they’re going to have to keep him under lock and key, and john can’t be anywhere around carmina, and they can’t actually trust him but hey, it’s a start. the second he gives them a reason to shoot him, they will - the only reason they can’t do it now is because, well... they aren’t murderers like john is.

nick goes to explain all this to john, expecting a big fight and hoping for a chance to strangle the guy guilt-free. john’s... well, sarcastic and bitter, but surprisingly contrite. when given the ultimatum of work or leave, john surprisingly puts up no fight and accepts the unconditional surrender. which means nick has to leave him locked up with some food and a bucket of water and hope that the guy hangs himself or something.

so john... exists in the collapsing spare room for a while. they feed him and give him clothes and make sure he doesn’t die, and the second he’s healthy enough to sass nick without exhausting himself, they put him to work. he keeps making jackass comments about how dumb it is that nick and kim are keeping him around, but he does what he’s told and doesn’t exactly throw a fit about being locked up all the time.

over the next couple of months, they put john through his paces, hauling scrap and helping with house repairs. a lot of this is just bandaging the broken leg that is the rye homestead, but at least they have safe rooms to sleep in now and an outdoor kitchen for cooking. john surprises both of them by pulling his own without complaint, or much talking at all for that matter. for a guy who used to never shut up, john has become pretty frugal with words. nick figures seven years in a bunker by yourself might wear you out on your own voice. maybe not though, because sometimes at night nick can hear john talking to himself in his room, although it’s never loud enough to figure out what he’s saying. maybe he’s just realized nobody else wants to listen to him?

ugh i’m too lazy to write up more, but you see what i mean? like this alone is just 6-8 months of content. then there’s grace showing up and everyone finding out about john surviving, and joseph is a thing and just, UHGHHHHHHH. its so much i want to write but i don’t wanna write all the bullshit between moments. ugh. i’ll figure it out maybe??? who knows. i have so many ideas for this but i really just want to fix!!! these!!! characters!!!! they need love, esp kim and nick :(

#fcnd #john seed #i would usually use a read more but tumblr is giving me trouble #sorry about that cut me some slack

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hungergames-fanfic · 5 years ago

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Nightmare

Word count: 1636

Daddy got me feeding the chickens today, been doing it all week, actually. I think this his way to keep me busy. Been asking too many questions he says, but it’s cause he never got anything to say when I ask about Eddy. Even told me to stop talking to Vano. That’s probably cause I made him cry. All I did was ask if he been watching the games.

Besides that, I’ve been real good since I threw that “tantrum in front of the whole family”, or so momma says. I mean, daddy ain’t say none about it but she looks pretty mad. Scolds me about anything now. Even yelled at me this morning cause I was watching her throw up but I was only curious. She’s never thrown up before.

I spend the feeding playing with the chickens but daddy’s now yelling at me to stop. Says I’m scaring them. I’m pretty sure I’d know if they were scared. Them flapping their wings like that means they’re happy. I read that in a book somewhere.

When I’m done feeding them, daddy tells me to haul a bucket of water for the goats. I tell him I can’t cause I need both hands to hold it since my right is still in a cast. He said “do it and you best not drop it”, gave me a real tired look. One that says “if you inconvenience me I’m gonna inconvenience you”, with a spanking probably.

Now, I’ve already dropped it twice but daddy ain’t seen so I figure I’ll head to the barn house to see if Vano ain’t using the wagon for hay. Gonna use it to put the bucket in there and haul it to the goats. In here, I find him raking horse poo with a real sad look on his face.

“You need anythin’?”, he asks. Sounds real sad too.

“Can I use the wagon?” I ask. My hands behind my back, I rock myself from side to side. I’m a little embarrassed for making him cry but I don’t wanna talk about it.

“For?”

“I need it”

“For?”

“Isadora why is that water tub empty?”, daddy yells at me from across the dairy cow pen. I don’t turn to look at him and run straight back to the well. It’s not until I drop the heavy bucket two more times that I earn me another yell from daddy. Tells me to go back inside since I’m of no use. This hurts my feelings and I don’t cry until I’m back in the kitchen.

In here, momma Bilmin makes breakfast. Tells me everyone misses Eddy as much as I do but we all got different ways of showing it. Daddy shows it with irritation she says.

“He must be missing people all the time then”, I say. She hushes me.

“Now take them boots off, you’re messin’ up my floor and I just mopped”, she scolds, hands on her hips.

Barefoot, I skip around the cold floor tiles around the kitchen and hallway making my way to the living room. Sasha lays on the sofa covered in one of my old blankets and watches Bean murder Mrs Wallace. She’s one of my favorite dolls, I even cut her hair in a mullet cause that’s the type of gal she is.

“Bean! No!”, I yell at him but he runs off with Mrs Wallace. I should of listened to daddy when he said no dogs! At the time I was sad I couldn’t keep him though, cried until momma Bilmin talked him into letting Bean stay.

Sitting up straight, Sasha giggles. “You ain’t play with it in a minute”, she says. She’s right but that don’t mean I want my doll to be ripped to shreds by that maniac dog!

It ain’t long until I wanna cry. He’s running all over the place thinking I wanna play. Won’t let me catch him. Sasha ain’t helping either, she just keeps laughing every time he slips through my hands. Momma Bilmin says to leave him alone and that he’ll bore himself with the doll but when will that be? When he’s done and finished killing her?

Finally, out of breath and given up I lay on the opposite end of the sofa. Sasha kicks her blanket to me and we cover ourselves. She kicks me a couple of times but I ignore her, last thing I want is play with her. She always ends up crying.

It’s not long until I start feeling sleepy.

[̲̅I̲̅]’[̲̅m̲̅] [̲̅w̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅l̲̅][̲̅k̲̅][̲̅i̲̅][̲̅n̲̅][̲̅g̲̅] [̲̅d̲̅][̲̅o̲̅][̲̅w̲̅][̲̅n̲̅] [̲̅t̲̅][̲̅h̲̅][̲̅e̲̅] [̲̅h̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅l̲̅][̲̅l̲̅][̲̅w̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅y̲̅] into the kitchen, something tells me that’s where Eddy is. Last I saw him he was sneaking into momma Bilmin’s unfinished breakfast platter.

When I enter the room I stare at a big red desk. It looks fancy, kind of like the one in the mayor’s office. On the corner of the room, on a chair, Efrain sits with his back turned to me. I ask him what he’s doing but he doesn’t answer. Just bobs his head. It makes him look silly but I’m concerned.

“Efrain, you okay? Where’s Eddy?” I ask.

Efrain ignores me but he keeps bobbing his head. Just as I walk up to him, someone takes my hand. At first it’s Vano telling me it’s time to go, then it’s Eddy himself. He says we can’t stay here and takes me out into the hallway. It looks familiar and the blades spinning around in the middle of the room look familiar too.

I turn around to get one last glimpse of Efrain but there’s a wall where the door stood. I try to touch it but Eddy takes my arm and pulls me away. There’s no cast on it. Something tells me my hand is completely healed.

The hallway’s gotten longer now and the blades are coming at us from where we just stood.

Eddy let’s go of my hand, runs away and kicks the wall until he makes a hole into it. “C’mon Dora!”, he yells at me.

I run as fast as I can, but no matter how hard I try, it’s not fast enough. The blades are right behind me. Swish. Swish. They sound sharp and ready to kill. By now I’m crying but I make it just in time to crawl into the hole on the wall.

Just when I think we’re safe in my room, something in my closet starts to slam on the panels. Snapping and breaking the way it does looks like whatever it is is climbing.

Fingers peak out and grip slowly opening the closet door. I stare at it and take a step forward. A thought in my mind tells me it could be Bean making a ruckus but just when I’m only a couple of feet away, from the top of the door, emerging from the pitch black, a face peaks out.

It’s one I immediately recognize. With ugly cuts across her face and no life behind her eyes, the tribute’s head slides down ever so slowly. Once she’s reached the floor one of her arms come out from the darkness and then the other and then her entire body. Mangled with her arms snapped back like a spider she crawls towards me. As she does I can see the puddles of blood she leaves behind.

Frozen and scared, [̲̅I̲̅] [̲̅c̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅n̲̅]’[̲̅t̲̅] [̲̅s̲̅][̲̅c̲̅][̲̅r̲̅][̲̅e̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅m̲̅] [̲̅n̲̅][̲̅o̲̅] [̲̅m̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅t̲̅][̲̅t̲̅][̲̅e̲̅][̲̅r̲̅] [̲̅h̲̅][̲̅o̲̅][̲̅w̲̅] [̲̅h̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅r̲̅][̲̅d̲̅] [̲̅I̲̅] [̲̅t̲̅][̲̅r̲̅][̲̅y̲̅].

I wake up screaming. Seeing daddy run up to me from the corner of my eye keeps the scandal going and for a second it ain’t just me.

Sasha’s crying. Momma Bilmin holds on to her chest and I think I hear Vano stopping into the kitchen. Tryna force my back into the couch cushions, I keep bawling until I can’t no more. Even gone mute with a blurry eyesight from all the hot tears rolling down my face.

Daddy grabs my shoulders tight and shakes me asking what’s wrong. There are coffee stains all over his already dirty, sweaty shirt.

Just a second ago I seen that dead girl crawling to me, now it’s daddy all up in my face. If I wasn’t already screaming I sure would.

“I was in the games, daddy!”, I cry and hug him like I’ll never see him again. Out of breath from all my wailing I can only say just a few words. “I was in the games and she was coming to kill me!”

Daddy pulls me away and wipes my tears. He looks just like momma Bilmin. They both have a thin long face and straight black hair. Opposite of me and momma who have round chubby faces.

“It was just a dream Dora, just a nightmare”, he says worriedly and holds my face. I don’t feel better but daddy would never let anything bad happen to me and this is proof. I hug him again sucking in sharp streaks of air. I’m not the only one in tears, though.

Momma Bilmin holds on to the hallway door frame. Sasha pulls on her dress. “Don’t cry” she begs, but momma Bilmin ain’t listening. She’s tryna keep herself together and failing.

Daddy takes his attention away from me almost immediately and helps her on the sofa. She holds on to her chest and stares at him with a look I ain’t ever seen.

This is entirely my fault. We should never talk about the games in this house. That’s the only rule I’ve always been told to never break and this is exactly why. I hug momma Bilmin telling her how sorry I am but she ignores me.

“I can’t”, she says shaking her head and closing her eyes letting her tears fall down her face.

“No, no, no”, she rocks back and forth, crying into her hands.

“Not again, no, please not again.”

#isadora wyetka #polomir wyetka #momma Bilmin #sasha #eddy #vano #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #age 10

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ahh-fxck · 4 years ago

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Chapter 11 of Warrior’s Blues: What Would I Do Without You?

Folks, I am so excited. I finally get to present to you the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! This chapter (and the following two) have been a labor of love. @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog, editor and co-creator of this fic, thank you for all your hard work and insight!! Ok folks, here it is:

Chapter 11: What Would I Do Without You?

Yennefer's visit throws Jaskier for a hard loop. His best friend helps him sort it out. Best Friend Rating of the Geralt Incident? 10/10 top notch Jaskier fuckery. She loves her disaster queer.

CW for drinking, smoking, implied death of an original character, grieving

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged!) for future updates of this story!

@astouract @smolpoe @yes-im-the-violin-girl @ladyknight-keladry

It was not. Luckily for him, the person working the bar tonight is Julia.

Jaskier feels like the whole world is an itchy sweater, even after the sandwich and coffee. It’s like his brain is on fire, and he can’t quite settle into the usual friendly chatter that his job requires. He passes an irritable and lonely night out by the door. By the time it’s time to clock out most of the staff is eager to clear out from underfoot; Jaskier is a great boss, but when his nearly infinite good humor runs out he can be a real asshole.

Jaskier throws his head back and lets out a shout of pure frustration as his poorly-contained feelings boil over at last. Julia smirks and grabs a bunch of towels, then ambles over to him and starts tossing them on the floor to soak up the mess.

As she does so she says nothing, but the look she gives him makes him feel transparent. Jaskier avoids her eyes as he tosses some towels down onto the puddle.

Julia gives a little harrumph, unimpressed, bending to help him clear the towels away. They right the bucket and clean the floor in silence. When they’re done, she turns to him and gives him a long look.

“So… What’s eating you?”

Jaskier grumbles and straightens. “Nothing.” He hauls the bucket away, fills it with water, and returns. Without making eye contact he begins to mop again.

“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”

“Julian Alfred P-”

“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries, but secretly he’s glad that she cares enough to needle him. He stops and holds the mop for a moment, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. Then he starts pushing it across the floor again. “I’m sure you heard about the man who rescued Pride this year.”

“Heh, I feel like I’ve met him. Yarpen won’t shut up. Heard from him recently?” She narrows her eyes at him, sure that she’s about to hear some sort of horny idiot story.

Jaskier blushes hotly, confirming Julia’s suspicions. “Well, funny thing about that.”

“What did you do now?” Julia asks, smirking. She retreats to the bar and picks up her tumbler of gin, then lights a cigarette.

“We-e-elll…” Jaskier prevaricates.

Julia gives him a long look, and he folds.

“Um, so I might have brought him back to my house after Pride.”

Julia barks a short laugh. “Color me not surprised. What’s the problem? Is he why you were wearing that birdy when you came in?”.

Jaskier’s flush deepens. “I meant to take that off before his wife showed up. After that my day got all sort of… muddled.”

“You mean you got chewed out and then got drunk, right?”

“No! You know what, Julia? She yelled at me when I met her in the hospital, but when she came to my house she was…” He pauses, seeing the bewildered look on Julia’s face. “All right, let me back up and explain. He broke his hand, and I had to take him to the hospital. Two weeks later we go for his followup appointment and his wife is there waiting for him. Tracked him down all the way from fucking England! Got the third degree from her there, but the wildest part is, she showed up at my house the next day to talk. About me dating him.”

Julia laughs again, harder and longer. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”

Despite himself, Jaskier breaks into a rueful grin.“Right? Seriously though Julia. If I talk to you about this it stays strictly between you and me, got it? All of it. He’s in the closet and no one else here needs to know any of this.”

“You got it. No gossip. Your secrets are my secrets.” Julia smiles crookedly, sipping at the last of her gin. She’s been keeping Jaskier’s shit to herself since he was a teen. At first, it was out of a desire to not get involved, but by now she genuinely likes the dingbat. He’s dumb but sweet, and he’s been good to her. “So what’s the deal, kiddo?”

“So what it all boiled down to is that she’s not mad at me for sleeping with him… she’s mad I slept with him so fast. Turns out she’s okay with me seeing him again.”

Julia puts her glass down on the bartop, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Okay, that is a new one on me, I gotta admit. What’s the story there? She into watching or something?”

A surprised laugh escapes Jaskier. “No, thank fucking god, I don’t think I’d survive. This woman… oh Julia, you should have seen her. She’s like, five foot four inches of lightning in a bottle. A total force of nature. I think she could snap me like a twig.” A wry twinkle comes into his eye as Julia’s eyebrow goes up.

Smirking, Julia taps some ash off of her cigarette. “Sounds like a hell of a woman.”

Jaskier snorts, cutting her an amused look. “She is, but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She’s asexual.”

“Oh? The plot thickens.” Julia grins wolfishly, leaning her chin on her hand. Jaskier had a way of getting up to his neck in crazy situations, and it had become something of a spectator sport for her over the years.

“I really do,” Jaskier agrees with a little groan.

“What’s her name?”

“Yennefer.”

“Hm. Nice names. Yennefer and Geralt. So she got mad at you for sleeping with Geralt so fast, and then what?”

“And then, Julia! She told me that she’d always hoped that he’d find someone special. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘maybe someone like you’ and I just lost my mind. Just- Pow!” He makes an exploding gesture out from his head with his hands, then shakes his head and returns to mopping.

“Wow. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”

“Yeah. Yeah! No kidding! Apparently, he’s always been free to choose his lovers. He’s never wanted to bring one home before, though.”

Julia lets out a low whistle, her eyebrows going up. “So he likes you, likes you. And his wife is… okay with this?”

“I don’t think she likes me very much, Julia, but she gave me the phone number to their hotel room. Says I should have a real talk with him before I think about dating him.” He stalks past her into the kitchen to dump out the dirty mop water.

“Just like that?” Julia laughs, leaning in the doorway.

“Threatened to bury my dead body if I didn’t treat him right, in those exact words,” Jaskier says over his shoulder.

Julia leans against the doorframe, shaking with mirth. “Oh my fucking god, Jaskier.”

“I know!” Jaskier cries, flinging his hands up. “This is absurd, Julia! And you know what’s even more ridiculous? I really think I could fall for him, I really do. He’s just so…” He sighs, tossing the mop and bucket in their corner and washing his hands.

“Yeah, Yarpen wouldn’t shut up about him. Six feet plus, white hair, amber eyes, stacked? Sounds very striking.” Julia drawls, eyebrows arching.

“No, Julia- Well, I mean, yes, but…” He walks back out to the bar, flopping onto one of the tall stools.

“But what?” She smirks, returning to the bar and tapping out her ash.

“For once in my life, yes. I called her before I came in. Hopefully, she’ll have gotten back to me by the time I get home.”

“Good for you. So this is why you came in here drunk off your ass this morning? This whole mess?” She pours him a shot glass of rum and passes it to him.

Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, Julia stubs out her cigarette. “Ain’t he about my age?”

“Yeah… He’s… I guess he spent his whole adult life in the military and never let himself have one. That’s what his wife said.” Jaskier worries at his lip, blue eyes wide as he shoots a glance at Julia. His glass scrapes on the bar top.

Annoyed by the sound, Julia tosses him a coaster. Then she hums thoughtfully, swirling the dregs of gin in her glass. “That’s a long time to be lonely.”

Julia sucks in a breath, watching Jaskier crumple in front of her. He’d at least grasped the concept of fidelity by now, but until recently his romances had never been particularly stable. Her heart goes out to him. She finds herself walking around to the other side of the bar to stand awkwardly by his side, her stocky frame only coming up to his shoulder where he sits on the stool. She awkwardly pats said shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “That’s gotta feel pretty big to you. How are you doin’ with it?”

Julia hums, sucking her teeth thoughtfully. She rubs a gentle circle between Jaskier’s shoulderblades, an unusually affectionate gesture for her. “Kiddo, you know I wouldn’t say this normally, but you’ve put a damn ton of work into your personal relationships. I trust the man you’ve grown into, and I think you should try trusting yourself for once. See how it works out for you. It’s been a long time since you let anyone in.”

Jaskier sighs, leaning into the touch. “I know. I worked so hard, and Rue didn’t even get to see much of my life after the dust settled. I hope she’s proud of me.”

A smile lights Julia’s face, but as she speaks a note of grief creeps into her voice. Her partner Rue had passed two years ago, but the pain was still fresh and hot. Rue had been more than a friend to Jaskier, she’d been his absolute favorite person. He missed her almost as dearly as Julia herself did.

“She’d be proud of you all ‘round, kiddo. You’ve really shaped up. Hell, you stepped up when I needed you.” She gives Jaskier a little shake. “You might be a dumbass, but it matters that you try to get things right. It matters more that you do your best now to fix it when you don’t. That’s all anyone can do.” Julia’s hand moves back to his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man, and I think she’d tell you that, too.”

Jaskier nods, swallowing hard. As Julia’s hand closes on him he realizes all of a sudden how much he misses Rue. His heart contracts with terrible grief. “Oh!” He gasps, surprised by the abruptness of the pain. Reaching back to squeeze Julia’s hand, he can feel his throat tightening. “I feel really lost right now. She’d know what to do.”