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syndxlla · 1 year ago

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best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward, and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between BOTW and TOTK.

Heavily inspired by my Zelink thoughts

I wanted to dig into the dirty, grimly reality of being the saviors of the world and not knowing how to be the savior of yourself. But you can find that safety in another person.

Fan fiction warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual smut (in later chapters, characters are consenting adults), references to self-harm, eating-disorders, and a lot of angst. Each chapter will have chapter-specific warnings.

Chapter one: I used to tie your shoes

Song: We’ll never have sex by Leith Ross

Summary: Fresh off Hyrule Field, Link and Zelda have to face life after the Calamity, and come to terms with the long road to physical, emotional, and mental recovery.

Warnings: Vomiting, trauma, canon-typical violence, eating-sensitivity

Word count: 3.7k words

Author’s Note: I am so excited to share this. Please share and support this in anyway. I drew this art for the cover :) chapter begins after the page break. I love you guys. Also, these chapters won’t be heavily edited. Ignore any grammatical/spelling errors pls

Time. We never seem to have enough time. Green grass burns soft red embers into the field, a horse’s mane is rebraided at the nearest stable, and the stars shine as if nothing changed. Because it hadn’t, not really. The sun will still rise in the east and set in the west. The birds will still sing their songs at daybreak and the fireflies will still flicker at dusk. Nothing changed, but everything did. The air feels lighter, the sun feels warmer and yet Zelda’s fingers still shake as if she was in the snowy Hebra peaks.

The Princess by nature, is very gentle. She’s soft and patient at heart, but was placed under such strenuous situations all through her youth that caused her to often snap or lash out. But not now. Currently she is silent, stone-cold and confused. She was in shock. And Link could tell.

“Here.” He pulls out a baked apple from his pack, handing it to her. He has to get her attention twice before she finally takes it, their hands brushing for a moment. Her awareness returns to her gaze then, her bright-green eyes meeting his.

“I-I’m so sorry.” She sighs, her voice weak. “I’m just… so tired.” Link tries not to show his distress, but she notices his demeanor change as well. “How much further?” She says, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Probably another hour and a half. It’s just through those mountains.” He points.

“Dueling peaks. I remember.” She nods. “I remember everything.”

“Everything?” He asks as he starts to dig around a pack on the rear end of Epona, searching for his rito attire. It was starting to get dark, and she hadn’t stopped shaking since they left Castle Town almost three hours ago.

Zelda nods once.

Her silence speaks volumes.

He yanks out his snowquill armor, finally. “Do you remember anything from the last hundred years?” She doesn’t answer right away, she instead takes a smaller than small bite out of the apple. “Zel? Can I put this on you? You’re still shivering.” He asks, looking at her blank, traumatized stare. “It’s from the Rito, it’s soft as a cloud and will keep you warm for the rest of the way.”

“The Rito.” She sighs. “Revali…”

Link realizes that she hasn’t had any time to process what she just went through. She had spent the last one hundred years deeply focused, probably in a trance-like state. He places a hand on her cheek. “Look at me.” His voice is gentle and welcoming, not forcing her at all. She looks at him, their eyes locking. “Breathe with me.”

They take two deep, heavy breaths. They sync their inhales, exhaling together.

“It’s over. It’s all over, okay?” He reassures her. “It’s not coming back. It’s just us now, alright?”

She swallows, still emotionless. “You’ve changed.” She says.

“So have you.” Link smiles in an attempt to comfort her. “Can I put this shirt on you?” He asks again. She answers faster than she usually had, nodding twice this time. Link bunches up the excess fabric before pulling the head-opening over her hair. He then guides each one of her hands through the arm-holes. Link takes a moment to adjust the garb around her torso until it was probably positioned around her shaking body. She immediately sighs in relief.

“You talk more.” She mumbles, looking at him as he gently wraps his fingers around her long, golden hair and softly pulls it out of the shirt, knowing how much it irritates him when his hair is loose underneath a shirt.

He smiles again, “I do. Some people say I don’t shut up.” He tries to lighten the mood.

“Like who?”

“Impa.” He sighs.

Zelda’s eyes light up with that name. “Impa?”

He hums and nods. “We can go visit her when you’re feeling stronger, okay?”

“Okay…” Zelda looked down into her lap, the skirt of her goddess dress was barely white anymore. “I am going to get stronger, right?” She asks, her voice tender and broken.

Link’s heart sinks. Not because he’s worried she won’t, but rather because he feels responsible for putting her in this state.

“Of course.” He reassures. He believed it. He wanted to believe it.

“I’m… just so tired.” She repeats herself.

“I know, come on, let's get you a bed.” He then picks her up bridal style from the ground. They had stopped in the first place to get that rito armor for her. She rests her head against his chest as he lifts her onto Epona. She smells like burnt oil and exhaustion. He probably isn’t smelling any better.

They wouldn’t get to Hateno until noon at the earliest tomorrow, and traveling wasn’t doing anything for her recovery. He gets on Epona behind her, letting her weak body rest against his chest as they make their way to Dueling Peaks Stable. The road is quiet, so much quieter than it ever has been. The pair of lizalfos always swimming in the river aren’t there, and even the crickets suppress their chirps.

It’s post-apocalyptic. Literally. Link isn’t sure how to feel.

She throws up a few hundred feet from the stable. She gags and lurches over the side of the horse, somehow managing to keep it off of anyone. Not much comes out, she hasn’t eaten in over a century, but Link frowns when he realizes the apple probably triggered it. He silently curses himself out for causing her any form of distress. She dry heaves violently, and Link tries to hold her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. When she finishes, she holds her breath.

She can’t decide if she feels like she lost a bit of dignity or not. She holds back the tears that well in her eyes. Link breathes in to say something, but she raises her hand in protest. She would rather they act like it never happened. Neither of them say anything from there on, they just keep riding the final minute of the journey.

Everyone at the stable was asleep except for an attendant… who was also treading precariously between consciousness and a deep rest behind the counter.

“Excuse me?” Link asks to wake him up, hopping off of Epona after making sure Zelda would still be comfortable in his absence. She would never admit she wasn’t.

The man stirs awake with a jolt. He yawns, slightly startled, “So sorry, young man.” Link wouldn’t necessarily call himself young. He smirks softly.

“I’d like to board this horse till the morning, and we’d like one soft bed, please.” Link nods before setting down the required rupees. The man squints his eyes, taking the money in hand.

“Ah! It’s you! Link, was it?” He asks when Link turns his back to help Zelda down from the horse. “Jeez, you haven’t passed through here in at least six months! We were holding onto that old mare for you!” He gestures to their stables where a small gray spotted horse sleeps. Link’s first horse since he woke up from his century-long slumber. He only rode her in the beginning, when he was doing chores between Hateno, Kakariko and one time a longer trip to Zora’s Domain. But she’s old and weak, which is why she was easy to catch when Link was still regaining his strength. He stopped taking her out when he found Epona in the western part of Central Hyrule.

“Yeah… you guys can let her free.” He says as he sets Zelda down on the ground. She holds her cold hands together.

“Well uhh.. we tried. You see, after four months at a stable we let go of any forgotten pony’s, but she kept coming back.” He chuckled, his voice exhibiting a distinctive nasality.

“Here,” Link hands him a red rupee, not wanting to discuss an old horse any longer when he literally has the closest thing to a God in this world resting her head on his back. “Keep her for another month, I’ll come take care of her then. Okay?” Link asks. “Can I get that bed now?” Not impolite or forceful, he never was. He’s assertive but has a comforting cadence to his tone. For being such a talented swordsman, guard and easily the most deadly hylian in the entire kingdom, he was never rude or condescending. He was welcoming, and little kids often looked up at him with intimidation when they first met him, but it didn’t ever take long until they were chasing him with tree-branches while he fled and begged for mercy, letting them take him down with ease. The kids at the stables loved him, knew him by name, and would play as him in their silly pretend games.

The stable-man replies, “Of course! But you only asked for one bed, it’s not big enough to fit both of you.”

“I know, it’s for her not me.” Link then starts to guide her into the stable, where it’s much warmer and safer. Just because it’s quiet doesn’t mean it's safe. Hyrule is a dangerous place by nature, especially if you’re two century-old Gods being hunted for sport with the faces of children.

“You won’t sleep?” Zelda asks quietly behind him.

He doesn’t directly answer, and instead guides her to the bed. She’s weary, and he’s terrified of her not waking up. He wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he wanted to. He helps the Princess sit in the bed, and kneels before her to untie her sandals. When he touches the leather, he immediately gets transported into another memory.

It rips through him, just like the memories he had images of. Suddenly, he’s kneeling in the same position, but instead he was outside of the spring of courage. He looks up to see the clear sky, it’s sunset, and then his eyes meet Zeldas. Her face is rosy, and her eyes don’t have the blank stare they possess in the current time. He looks down at his fingers, tying the straps around her ankle.

“Really, you don’t have to do that.” She hums. He doesn’t respond. He never did back then. He finishes wrapping the leather around itself and then stands up. His face is emotionless. She looks at him, they’re about the same height. “I won’t be long this time.” She says. “I’m not expecting much anyways.” She sighs and then walks past him, but before she can get very far, he gently grabs onto her arm, holding her back. He doesn’t say anything but she can read his expression. He’s trying to tell her to have faith this time, just one more time.

Surely the Goddess would commune with her.

She shakes her head, and wades into the warm waters of the spring. Link turns to watch her, how her hair cascaded down her back, how her hands balled into fists. She turns around to look at him, their eyes meet. She smiles.

He comes back as fast as the scene played in his memory. He blinks a few times, and looks up at her. She doesn’t look any different, very little—if any—time seemed to pass. He doesn’t usually experience memories with someone, he wonders if she realized anything happened. Link didn’t even consider the fact he would keep receiving memories after the fact. His stomach turns, he feels like he’s lived two completely different lives and is forced to remember things from one that he doesn’t even relate to anymore. He doesn’t feel like the same person, the boy he was a hundred years ago is a complete stranger to him.

Link much preferred this life.

And that scares Zelda.

“I just remembered something.” He says. Zelda hums in response, a light-hearted noise that implies an inquiry. He elaborates, “I used to tie your sandals for you at the springs, didn’t I?” He asks.

Zelda smiles for the first time since they defeated Ganon. It’s a small pull of her lips, not showing any teeth but her eyes finally light back up. After she had asked if he remembered her on the field, she collapsed, not even aware of her own exhaustion until that moment. He ran to her aid, and ever since then she felt woozy, it only got worse the further from the castle they got.

“You did, yes.” She says. “I never asked you to, but since I was in the dress, you insisted.” She sighs. Link grunts in response. “It was very chivalrous.” Zelda adds.

They look at each other for a minute. Not saying anything. It was late, and two beds down there was a set of kid brothers sleeping. Link remembered them from their last visit. One of them wanted nothing to do with him, trying to act mature and ‘cool’. Link eventually won him over, though. They don’t speak out of fear of waking anyone. Zelda’s smile slowly fades away, and Link swallows thickly. They will never be the same.

He pulls her sandals off, her feet are filthy with century-old mud. He silently smiles about that. The closest thing to a Goddess in the entire world has dirty feet. How human of her.

Then, after pulling down the heavy rito-down blanket so she can slide in, he helps Zelda swing her legs into the bed. He pulls the blanket up to her neck, she lays on her side facing him. Her hands find their way up to her face, resting her cheek against them. Link pulls a short stool over to the bed, sitting on it and looking at her, bending at the waist.

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” She asks in a timid, sleepy voice.

Link’s heart just about breaks when she asks. “Never.” He shakes his head. He takes his gloved hand and tucks a piece of her loose hair behind her pointed-ears. He lets his fingers linger a little bit longer than they should. “I will never ever leave you again.”

“Promise?” She asks, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Promise.” He whispers, “Just as long as you promise to never leave me, okay?” He asks, ignoring the lump in this throat.

“Promise.” She says, taking her pinky finger and sticking it out for him. He wraps his finger with hers, which is far daintier and softer than he's ever been. She is a Princess, after all.

“Wake up in the morning, okay?” He whispers.

“Mhm.” She hums as her eyes slowly close. He tries to disconnect their pinky fingers, but she holds onto his. He leaves his hand in that position, letting her hold it until she falls fast asleep.

Link doesn’t move his hand until he’s certain it won’t wake her up from her much needed rest. He looks at her gentle, soft face. No one even understands what she just went through, no one ever will. He’s worried sick that she won’t make it through the night, and he keeps leaning his head down to listen to her breathing, or places a few fingers against her forehead to check her temperature.

He does his best to stay vigilant the entire night, not once even looking away from her. But just before the sun rises, his body suddenly catches up with his mind. He also just had the most demanding battle of his life. His muscles started to ache, and he developed a headache. He was just a boy, after all. More than anything, his sword arm was weak, and fire-hot pain shot up and down through it. He probably overused it fightin the calamity.

He keeps telling himself that he’s fine. He has to be fine, for Zelda. His arm isn’t that bad, what really hurts was his heart. Usually he’d just down a fairy tonic and maybe go to the hot springs if he was in the area but this pain was different. A twisting and contracting ache in his chest pulled and tugged on his lungs and pulse. It’s the same pain he felt when he remembered Mipha, and more specifically, the pain he felt when he dreamed about his family before the resurrection.

The dream that gave him the memories of a little sister with blonde hair like his collecting fireflies in her pockets. Her laugh echoing, the call of an older man, the image of a royal guards sword leaned up against the dinner table. The touch of his father’s hand as he rubs Link’s back to sleep.

Link’s first sword.

He wakes up like a fire, standing up and almost toppling over. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep. He could hear the soft tune of the penny whistle playing the standard stable theme, and the two little brothers played tag outside. He curses and looks down at Zelda.

Her bed is empty, and his heart completely stops. He starts breathing hard and heavy, his entire nervous system feels as though it’s pulled into stasis. How could he make such a foolish mistake? He swings his sword over his back, strapping his shield to his leathers and turns around in a wild-hunt to see the Princess sitting at the round stable table, drinking out of a mug and speaking gently with an older man.

Link takes a breath of relief, and approaches the two.

“Good Morning.” She smiles up at him. Her voice sounded much better, and her eyes finally had life back into them, but she still wasn’t herself. Her skin still looked sickly, her face hollowed out and eyes droopy. Any progress is good progress, Link decides then and there.

“I… didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Link sighs. “I’m so sorry. When did you wake up?”

“Oh not long ago, maybe twenty minutes? I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“You should have.” He interrupts her and her words get swallowed out of surprise. Link realizes that he snapped at her a little, and immediately becomes apologetic. “I’m sorry, again. I just…”

“You’re worried about me. I understand.” She takes his hand, her bones frail. In many ways, she physically looked worse today than last night. But at least she could hold a conversation. He nods. Zelda notices the tension, and changes the subject, “This kind gentleman was telling me about when you saved the stable from a horde of lizalfos about a year ago.”

Link looks over at the man, Giahzo. “Oh that was nothing, it was just two green lizalfos and a blue one who wandered too close to the stable.” Link hums. Their hands were still held together by Zelda.

“Don’t be so modest!” The old man chuckled, “Without you, it would have been a disaster! The number of monsters means nothing, especially when you don’t know how to fight!”

“That’s very kind of you.” Link smiles and then realizes he and Zeldas hands, he’s the one to pull it away. “What are you drinking?”

“I’m not sure…” Zelda begins and Link immediately snatches the mug from her hand. “Hey!”

“You can’t just drink something mysterious.” Link scolds.

“Oh it’s just a bit of Hateno Milk.” The man assures. Link looks at him, then Zelda, and then into the mug to see the creamy liquid. He brings it to his nose and smells it, and then takes a sip of it. Sure enough, it was just milk.

“I’m sorry, Giahzo.” He apologizes and places the mug back down. “I’m just on high alert.”

“Do not apologize to me, apologize to this lovely young lady you’ve graced us with.” The elderly man smiles with a chuckle, his eyes wrinkling up with his age. Zelda smiles, blushing a little, “Tell me, dear, where are you from? We don’t get many new faces at this stable these days.”

Zelda looks at him, her eyes sad. A hundred years ago every person in Hyrule knew her face. She looks at Link, unsure how to answer.

“She’s from the Outskirts stable.” Link covers for her. “Her family used to reside in Central Hyrule before the Calamity.”

“Yes.” Zelda immediately chirps, “We’re headed to Hateno for…”

“A honeymoon!?” Giahzo smiles brightly. Both Link and Zelda freeze in their tracks, and Link hopes he doesn’t look as embarrassed as he feels. “Hateno is a great Honeymoon destination! Although I’ve heard Lureline is even more splendid!” He clasps his hands together.

“Research.” Zelda clarifies, “so sorry to disappoint.” She chuckles politely, making a conscious effort not to look at Link. “I’m researching… population dynamics in Hyrule.” She makes something up that sounds completely believable.

“Of course.” Link then says, “I’m just escorting her there, we are total strangers.”

That breaks Zelda’s heart.

She knows he’s just trying to be extra careful, pushing her anonymity as much as possible. And in a way, it wasn’t a total lie. But it cut her like a knife.

“I see…” Giahzo doesn’t seem convinced. “Well, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to stop by. Hopefully the monsters will start to die down.” He smiles and stands up, moving outside.

Zelda is still afraid to look at Link, and he’s a little bit shaken up by the entire interaction. He knows the Yiga are still out there, he knows that there are people who will try to take advantage of her for power or money. He has no reason to suspect anything from the old man, but he can’t help himself from being deliberate. He senses her tension and walks back to the bed to gather their things.

“You should have woken me up.” Link says as he picks up a satchel full of food and readjusts his gloves.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was timid and tired. He turns around to see her, her green eyes looking up at him apologetically. “I didn’t know it would worry you so.” He approaches her.

“Of course it worries me.” He sighs. “I spent three years trying to get you out of that castle, I’m not gonna lose you on the first night.” He holds his hand out for her to trade, helping her up. She must not have rested as well as he thought, because as soon as she gets on her feet, she almost topples right over him. He catches her, holding her up before she collapses. “Woah there.” He mutters. “You alright?”

She nods, “Let’s just get to that house you told me about.”

—

chapter two

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months ago

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The Magnificent Seven | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: recovering from a sexual assault (please heed this warning), angst, canon violence, canon gore,

Word Count: 3382

A/N: SEASON THREEEEEEEEEEEE thank you guys so much for all the support i love you so much i give each of you a little kiss on the face :)))

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Dean hadn’t called you since you left. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to. However, there was a feeling clawing at you that you wanted him to. You wanted him to beg you to come back and tell you he missed you and loved you, too. Although, seventy-eight hours after leaving the Winchesters, you were unsure that phone call would ever come.

Over the previous three days, you’d scoured every library book on demonology you could get your hands on and prodded every community college professor that could possibly know any information helpful to you in breaking Dean’s deal. However, all you came up with were crossed eyes from staring at books for too long and several aging professors looking at you like you had three heads.

To your surprise, the phone on the center console next to you rang, the light from the small screen on the front of the flip phone illuminating a portion of the dark car. Hopeful, you picked it up.

‘Oh,’ you thought. ‘Just Sam.’

“Hello?” you said into the phone.

“(Y/N), hey, it’s good to hear your voice,” Sam replied.

“Good to hear yours, too,” you said, a little sadness in your tone. “Is— Is Dean around?”

“Nah. He’s, uh…” Sam trailed off, sighing.

“Polling the electorate?” you questioned, hoping Sam would understand your reference.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed sadly. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You sighed, ready to change the subject. “It’s okay. What’s goin’ on? Why’d you call?”

“What, I couldn’t’ve just wanted to talk to you?”

“You would’ve called before if that was the case,” you replied a little flippantly.

“Fine, you got me,” Sam chuckled. “Was wondering if you’d found anything.”

“Besides an unreal level of frustration? No.”

“Yeah. Same here.”

You clicked on your turning signal and sighed. “Honestly, dude? I don’t think we’re gonna find the answer in any book.”

“You’re probably right,” Sam acknowledged. “Doesn’t hurt to look, though.”

“I have looked, Sam. And there’s nothing,” you responded, getting a little snippy with him. “I’m sorry. I’m just—” you quickly apologized.

“I get it. Me, too.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam replied quietly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You understood the warning in his tone and knew he somehow figured out your next stop would be summoning every crossroads demon you could possibly find and hunting others down for answers. “Can’t make any promises, Sammy. Love you, bye.”

You snapped the phone shut and huffed. As badly as you wanted to continue your pursuit of these sons of bitches, you knew you’d be getting nowhere on the hour and a half of sleep you’d cumulatively been getting over the past five days.

***

The next morning, only feeling slightly refreshed from the three hours of sleep you’d gotten, you headed out into the early morning sun to find yourself a demon.

The previous evening, you’d found a bizarre story in the newspaper about a man who’d died under mysterious circumstances after picking up a hooker on the day after those demons were released from Hell in your fight with the yellow-eyed demon. There had also been a cicada swarm around the motel the man had died in; a traditional demonic omen.

The coroner’s report indicated the man had been tied to the bed and found without his genitals, blood soaking every inch of the room. They concluded the man had bled to death. What made the case more disturbing and interesting was the fact that there was a deep bruise around his neck in the shape of two small, delicate hands.

Curious, you headed to Lincoln, Nebraska to interview the wife of the man who’d passed.

“Hi, I’m with the FBI—” you flashed your fake badge at the woman as you spoke— “and I just have a few questions for you regarding your husband’s death?”

“I don’t understand,” she said, beginning to tear up. “I already answered these questions for the police.”

“Yes, ma’am, I just have to do a follow-up of my own. A cross-examination of sorts.”

She nodded and stepped back from the door, allowing you into her home. She gestured for you to sit on the couch across from the chair she settled into.

“So, what would you like to know?” she asked.

“What was your husband like?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Why is that important? I mean, I’m not even sure I really knew him. Married to that cheating bastard for fifteen years, and he does this to me.”

“What do you mean by ‘you’re not sure you knew him’?” you pressed.

“I mean,” she sniffed, “I just never would’ve thought he’d cheat on me. With a whore, no less.”

You cringed at the implication of sex workers being “whores” but kept your mouth shut anyway.

“I mean, in all the time we were together, I was the only girl he ever looked at,” she explained. “He never drank, never went out— hell, he felt guilty about watching porn! I just… I can’t understand why he’d do this to me.” Her sobs wracked her body, and she put her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Grishop. I just have one more question for you.”

She looked back up at you expectantly, still hiccuping from her cries.

“Did he have any enemies? Anyone who may possibly want to hurt him?”

She shook her head. “No. Before… all this… he really was the nicest man I ever knew.”

***

Following leaving the woman’s house, you decided to head out to lunch to gather your thoughts. In the midst of writing them all down in your journal and munching on a fry, a story on the news caught your attention.

“Second Victim of Possible Serial Killer Found,” read the headline at the bottom of the screen.

“Walter Morrisson, age forty-nine, was found dead in a Super 8 motel just off I-6 around eleven A.M. this morning. Authorities were called to the scene when the housekeeper found the body after assuming the man had already checked out."

‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. You tuned the rest of the broadcast out as your mind raced; whatever this thing was, it was just getting started.

You left a twenty dollar bill on the table to cover your meal and tip and quickly left the diner. You sped down to the Super 8 to begin investigating.

Upon entering the lobby, you noticed a scraggly young man sitting behind the desk. The room was completely empty aside from him.

“Hi,” you grinned. “My name’s Christine McVie; I’m with the FBI.” You flashed your badge. “You mind letting me have a look at your security tapes?”

He nodded nervously, eyes flickering from your chest and back up to your face. He allowed you behind the desk to examine the security tapes from the previous night, and you clicked over to the camera just outside of the victim’s motel room. A gorgeous blonde woman escorted the man into the room, and she looked at the camera for just a split second. Had you not been paying close attention, you would’ve missed it completely: her eyes were black.

Immediately, you had the man working the front desk make you a copy of the tape and brought it back to your motel room. You then uploaded it to your laptop and began scanning FBI and police databases you’d hacked into to find the woman’s identity. After about thirty minutes, you found a match.

“Jennifer Lane, 28, Missing from Miami, Florida,” the information on your screen read.

‘Holy shit,’ you thought. ‘She went missing the same night I killed Yellow Eyes.’ Looking at the picture of Jennifer linked to the article you found confirmed the fact that this was your mystery demon. You felt awful for that poor girl trapped underneath and had no doubt she was going through a world of pain; a slave to her own mind.

“Housekeeping,” a sultry voice suddenly called from outside your door.

Unsettled, you drew your gun and pressed it to the door and looked through the peephole. You were met with the smiling face of the girl you had just been reading about, and the door abruptly slammed open and threw you back into your room. Two men with black eyes came into the room as well and grabbed under each of your arms before you even had a second to adjust.

You fought them as best you could which quickly proved futile.

“Don’t worry, angel,” the beautiful blonde cooed, “we’re not gonna hurt you.” She grinned wickedly and pulled your bottom lip down with her thumb. “Yet.”

The men holding you laughed as you continued to struggle, frantically flailing your limbs to shake them off.

“What’s the rush?” the demon asked you, roughly grabbing the sides of your face. “Y’know, you give a girl all kinds of nasty ideas.” Her lips ghosted over yours, and you suddenly found yourself unable to resist leaning forward slightly to kiss her. She kissed you deeply and furiously, causing you to stop fighting the two demons holding either side of you. You could feel them pulling your arms behind your back and tying them together, as well as your legs, but you could do nothing to fight off the woman before you.

When you’d been bound, the demons dragged you out to a car and threw you in the trunk of it. Trying not to panic, you tried to keep track of how long they were driving for and how many rights and lefts they’d been taking. However, after the second hour of driving, it was all becoming a bit much to keep track of.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop. You tried to prepare for whatever was ahead of you mentally and cried out when a demon roughly grabbed your hair. He hauled you out of the trunk and unceremoniously tossed you over his shoulder. You kicked and fought as best as you could, screaming, “Let me go!” You kicked the man’s stomach with all your might. “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

“(Y/N)!” you heard an all-too familiar voice yell. Your stomach dropped at the sound of Dean’s voice, unwilling to face him after your confession and having not spoken for a week.

“Let go of me, you fucking asshole!” You wriggled even harder now and were suddenly aware that the man carrying you stopped moving. He roughly tore you off his shoulder and stood you on your shaky legs in front of the steps up to a house. You came face to face with Dean being held back from crossing the line of salt blocking the doorway by Bobby and Sam.

Afraid your voice would fail if you spoke, you said nothing but held Dean’s gaze.

“We come with a peace offering,” the gorgeous blonde who’d kidnapped you purred, dragging her nail harshly down your jawline and breaking the skin along it. You hissed in pain and could see Dean fight against Bobby out of the corner of your eye. “You give him back to us, and we’ll give her to you.”

“Nice try,” Sam replied. “How do we even know that’s (Y/N)? How do we know she’s not possessed?”

“You don’t." The woman gripped your chin. “But trust me, you don’t wanna see what happens if you leave me with her for much longer.”

And then, all hell broke loose. Someone— you were pretty sure you knew who— charged the demons holding you hostage and you heard Bobby yell, “Salt’s broken!” as the demon holding you up dropped you to the floor. About ten demons ran past you into the house, and you were left trying to get out of the binds you were held in. You were growing more and more frustrated by the second until someone came up from behind you.

“Need a little help?” a gorgeous blonde asked, smirking down at you.

“Who the hell are you?” you asked. “Get away from me!”

“Baby, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already.” The woman pushed you upright into a sitting position and cut through the ropes binding your hands.

Confused and startled, you watched the woman walk up to the house. “You’re welcome,” she remarked over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” you replied, still confused. You shook your head to snap yourself alert and stood. You were completely unsure of what to do now; you desperately wanted to help your friends, but you were scared of facing Dean and had no weapons. Alone outside of a house you didn’t recognize deep in the woods, you decided to hotwire the car the demons brought you there in.

By some miracle, you managed to find the interstate and, eventually, your motel. When you’d showered, changed, and dressed the deep bruises and brush burns on your wrists from the rope the demons had used on you, you wrapped your arms around your stomach and laid on your side in bed.

You didn’t get much sleep that night, though; you were too busy stifling tears while your mind ran wild with possible scenarios that could’ve happened after you abandoned the boys. You felt horribly guilty already.

Your guilt was made even worse when Bobby called you around five in the morning.

“What the hell was that?” he scolded through the phone.

You grimaced. “Bobby—”

“No, (Y/N). You don’t abandon family like that,” he raged.

“I didn’t have any weapons! And since when do I have a family?!”

“Since the day I found you in the woods holding your guts in your goddamn hands!” he roared, and your guilt immediately sank deeper.

“Bobby, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, kid. It’s Sam and Dean I’d worry about,” he replied, voice softening slightly— or, as much as Bobby’s voice could, anyway.

“What? Why?”

“You left again. Without saying goodbye. Or making sure that they were okay. Dean’s pissed; Sam’s just hurt.”

‘Ouch,’ you thought. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna be in the way, and I didn’t have any weapons, and when I saw that girl going to help you, I figured it was better if I just left—”

“So you saw her, too?” Bobby questioned.

“Of course, I saw her. Why wouldn’t I have seen her?” you replied.

“ ‘Cause Sam said she disappeared. And the knife she had killed three demons,” Bobby explained.

“What?! What the hell kind of knife can kill demons?” you exclaimed.

“Ask me yesterday, and I would’ve said there’s no such thing,” he said. “I thought Sam mighta been losin’ his mind, but since you saw her, too...” Bobby trailed off. “Look, I think you should give ‘em a call. Just let ‘em know you’re all right. And apologize.” The last part of Bobby’s statement sounded more like an order.

“I’ll call Sam,” you replied after a moment.

“No, (Y/N), Dean, too. You two need to sort out whatever the hell’s wrong with you,” Bobby asserted.

You went quiet for a moment.

“And call me when you get wherever you’re goin’,” he finished, “so I know you’re okay.”

The line cut out, and you smiled sadly. You felt absolutely horrible for leaving the way that you did, and you knew the right thing to do would be to call Sam and Dean; separately. You knew you had to face up to Dean at some point, but it just didn’t seem like the right time. But, Christ, did you miss him. You wanted him to apologize for not calling, you wanted to apologize for leaving— there were so many things you’d say to him. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the phone.

You got up from your bed and crossed in front of the blackened television, jumping at the sight of your reflection. It was your guard uniform once more, scrapes up the left side of your arm and face, hair a complete mess, and buttons on your shirt buttoned haphazardly. You tried to steady yourself and take a breath.

You hated trying to deal with this alone. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. You felt you couldn’t control the world around you like you used to feel before the prison case. It felt like things would never be okay, and you were never going to feel at home in yourself again. You didn’t like feeling helpless or like you needed anyone, but you truly needed your friends. Your pride fought your rational mind valiantly, telling you that you shouldn’t call because you can handle this alone. You shouldn’t call because you’ve never needed anyone before; why would you now? And yet, there was another part of you saying that you’ve always needed someone, this was just the first time you actually had someone.

***

The day after leaving Lincoln, Nebraska, you began driving aimlessly again. You almost cried when you turned on the engine and rock music didn’t immediately start blaring from the speakers. The seats of the car felt uncomfortable and made you miss the polished leather of the Impala’s. You loved driving, but it didn’t feel right without Dean and Sam in the front seat ahead of you.

Sam would often joke that he and his brother were your babysitters due to your designated seating positions in the car, and Dean would often say he wished he had “that sliding window thing—” “partition,” “thank you, Sam,” so he didn’t have to hear you chirping from the backseat.

None of the radio stations could rival the comforting background noise that was Dean’s cassette tape collection. You felt cramped without your seat to spread out across. The thing that made you call Sam, though, was the moment you slammed on the brakes and the book Sam read to you about Egypt while you had your concussion flew out of your duffel bag on the seat next to you. Tears swam in your eyes at the sight, and you finally gave in.

“What, (Y/N)?” Sam annoyedly answered the phone.

‘Jesus. Harsh,’ you thought. “I, uh. I just wanted to call and say that I’m sorry,” you began. “For leaving. Both times. And… just wanted to tell you that I hope you’re okay.”

You could practically hear the aggravation leaving Sam’s body as you spoke. One of your favorite things about your friend was how forgiving of a person he was.

“I appreciate that,” Sam replied. He paused for a minute. “Why’d you do it, man?”

“I didn’t have any weapons. I saw the blonde chick go in to help you after she cut me loose, so I figured, I’d be doing more harm than good by staying—”

“No. The first time,” Sam cut you off.

“Dean didn’t tell you?” you asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought you knew this whole time.”

“(Y/N), since when does Dean tell me anything. I mean, it literally took me nearly beating it out of him for him to tell me that if the deal’s broken, I die—”

“What?!” you exclaimed, furious. “Since when? Why the fuck would he make that deal?!”

“I said the same thing,” Sam replied calmly.

“He’s so fucking selfish!”

“I completely agree.”

“He doesn’t get to be mad at me for leaving when I literally told him I love him, and he’s gonna fucking leave me in a year because of some stupid demon deal!” you continued to yell, not realizing what you’d admitted to Sam.

He was taken aback. “Whoa, you what?”

You suddenly processed what you’d said. “Yeah. I did.”

“Jesus,” Sam sighed. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N/N).”

“It’s fine,” you replied, suddenly feeling like you were too vulnerable. “I’m just pissed.”

The younger brother paused for a moment. “Will you at least talk to him? Try to work things out?”

“Not a chance in hell,” you scoffed. “I don’t want things to work out. I don’t wanna watch him die in a year, Sammy.” Your voice quivered.

He paused again. “I get it. I wouldn’t want to either if I were you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Me, too,” he replied. “Will you at least call every once in a while?”

Your chest ached at the realization that you may not be hunting with the brothers again for quite some time. “Absolutely.”

You could’ve sworn you heard him sniffle on the other end of the line. “Bye, (Y/N).”

“Till next time, Sammy.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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howlsofbloodhounds · 4 months ago

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(Dividers were found {and made} here. Not by me.)

Disclaimer: i talk about killer, so I’ll be talking about things like murder, torture, abuse, unethical experiments, etc.

L͟I͟N͟K͟S͟:

Here and here are links to canon killer sans stuff (doc is not made by me), but you can also look up #canon k1ll_sans on my blog.

Made by me, here is a link to a google doc on canon delta!sans and here is one for canon othertale/color sans. You can also look up #0thertale or #canon c0lor sans on my blog; not everything is there yet, but it is in the doc.

Here is a link to my ao3 fic collection centered around color, killer, color & killer.

C̳A̳N̳ ̳Y̳O̳U̳ ̳I̳N̳T̳E̳R̳A̳C̳T̳?̳

¸„.-•~¹°”ˆ˜¨ 𝐍Ｏ ¨˜ˆ”°¹~•-.„¸

Bigots of any kind, Pro-Israel, Fake-claimers, Zoos. Pedos, or anyone who supports or is neutral. Anyone who ships or romanticizes incest, pedophila, rape/SA, necrophilia, bestiality, and abuse. People who enjoys listening to/watching IRL gore/snuff.

˜”*°•.˜”*°• YES: •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Anyone who isn’t any of the above. And anyone who enjoys “color spectrum duo,” aka killer and color.

【ＢＯＵＮＤＡＲＩＥS:】

Don’t send me, talk to me about, or tag me in any real life gory or sexual videos, gifs, audios, or images. I don’t mind the topic or when it’s a fictional situation with fictional characters, but do not involve me in that or direct any of it towards me. You’ll be blocked otherwise.

Tag me in anything else you want. So long as it’s not IRL gore, sexual stuff, or violence. You can vent to me if you need to, or if you need advice, just ask first please.

Do not send me any hate, beef, or drama in my ask box, DMs, reblogs, or comments. Most of that stuff will be deleted. You will be blocked.If I ever get anything wrong, about anything, please feel free to correct me. I’d appreciate it.

If you ever disagree with or don’t like my headcanons/interpretations of certain characters, such as in the UTMV fandom, then always feel free to tell me your own/ask me to elaborate further. Do it politely, or I will not acknowledge you. I will block you.

This is my TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and AO3. I do have Discord, but you will have to ask privately for that. I do have Twitter/X, but I am not on it anymore.

My blog is not very organized, but I do have four personalized tags: #howlsasks, #houndshowlings, #forlater.txt. #killer sans stages for things I post on his Stages, as well as specific stages like #stage 1!killer.

These are for any and all asks I have received and answered, my yapping, reblogs I want to return to later.

You can call me Howl(s), Hound(s), or simply Rey. They/them, she/her. But I am okay with any. I am an adult.. Tone tags aren’t usually needed but appreciated. I will use them for you, too, if you tell me to.

Maintaining relationships and friendships are a genuine struggle for me. I will frequently forget to respond or will forget a lot of things you tell me. I am never purposefully ignoring you. Sometimes I forget, don’t know what to say, or will just be too tired to answer.

The above goes for stuff sent to my ask box. It is always open and questions are always welcome, as are DMs, but it may take a few days until I respond.

And that should be everything. I will update, add on, and remove as I see fit. I tend to get talkative when using written communication, and I love making lists, so this got longer than I thought it would be. I hope it was easy enough to read.

Follow my bitchass alt account @postlimitcages or whatever. My Pagan secondary blog is here.

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fastlikealambo · 4 months ago

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Does The Wolf Apologize? || Qimir x Black!Fem Reader Full Drabble

Summary: You’ve come back from a mission and The Sith is pleased. The lines between acolyte and master have been blurring between you two ever since he revealed his face but for tonight he will show you just how pleased he is.

Trigger Warnings: PinV, Consenting Force Choking, Improper use of a lightsaber.

"A lightsaber doesn't work like that- that don't matter, this is a whorehouse, sin defies canon and logic round here

18+ minors dni.

Please comment and reblog if you can, thank you for reading!

The head of the jedi was heavier in your hands than the saber on your belt.

You were bone tired, smelled of mud, had blood under your fingernails and in your braids but that didn't stop you from depositing the head on the sith’s table.

“Well done, you have pleased me.” He said, voice deep and automated beneath the helmet but you fell to one knee nonetheless, holding the lightsaber out in front for him to take.

“I have given you each and every saber you have asked for without question nor hesitation. I need my own, I’m ready.” You said quietly but firmly, standing up on shaky legs and began to remove your dirty coat and bag.

“You’re hurt.”

“That’s not an answer.”

A click and a small woosh of air signaled that the helmet was off and even now, you hesitated to turn around despite knowing the visage behind your back.

Before you could remove the rest of your bloody clothing, you felt a tug in the Force, sliding you across the room to outstretched hands.

“Forgive me, I’m tired, I don’t know what I’m saying.” You said softly as he gripped each side of your shirt and ripped it, exposing your bloody and burned back.

“What have I said about apologizing?” He asked,bending you over the counter to inspect your injuries. The pain was gone so quickly you moaned in relief, earning a chuckle from your mentor as he kept you bent over.

“Mice apologize, sheep apologize, we do not.” You recited.

He pulled your pants to your ankles, healing the cuts and bruises there before looking up at you.

“How did it feel when you took the jedi’s head?” He asked, head cocked to the side, thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles on your thigh while he checked to see if he had missed any wounds.

“ I felt safe, like no one could hurt me ever again, powerful even.”

He stood to his full height, calloused fingers tilted your chin to look into his eyes.

“And do you want power?”

“ What I want is to be free. I’m your equal, my training as your pupil is over, you and I both know that but my life, living freely by your side, has just begun.”

“ That’s not an answer.”

You sighed, tired and tense, you needed to unwind, quickly.

“Did I please you?” You asked him, closing the gap between the two of you, eyes on his lips, hungry for a release.

“Yes.” He growled.

“Then reward me.”

With a flick of his hand, the sith sent you flying through the air, landing on top of the table, legs open. He took his time striding over to you, cape thrown to the side.

“You still have so much to learn.” He said,slowly climbing on top of the table, your hips lifting without your control but with your consent into position.

“My next lesson is to make you whimper, do you understand me?” He asked, his hand slowly closing into a fist and air escaped your lungs.

“I understand.”

On their own, your underwear slid from your legs.

“Then let us begin as equals. On the count of three, take a deep breath in.”

You closed your eyes and did as he requested. It was only a few seconds later that you heard a familiar noise and the vibrating hilt of his lightsaber against your clit.

“Don’t move, you know the rules.”

You stayed frozen, sensations mounting within you but you dared not move, shaking internally until he removed it, penis entering you with ease. He began to pump, nice and slow to start, his force hold on your throat squeezing enough to please, not harm.

“Tell me what you want.” Qimir inquired quietly, lips nipping at your neck, the pressure on your throat and within you building and building till the sith relaxed his hand and you could fully breathe once more.

There was no time for you to catch your breath as he carefully left you, replacing his penis with his mouth, sucking and pleasuring your clit. Like a starving man, he ate you out till you saw stars.

Between laments of passion, you manage to answer his question.

“Power.”

He saved his softness for your lips, kissing them deeply with a real smile on his face and for one moment you were you just two people, fucking on a reinforced table.

“Then it is given.”

As equals, you met him thrust for thrust, sweat for sweat, and when you could take it no longer, you readied yourself to cum but his hand rose again, the force grasping your orgasm like a fist.

“I need to, I need-”

“Say please, my acolyte.”

“Please.” You begged, writhing in wonderful agony.

His hand twisted and you came all at once, back arching with relief.

To return the favor, you force pushed off the table and mounted him, pinning his hands over his head, leaving a trail of biting kisses all the way down his chest. You rocked into position deep inside him, wet and hot, his mouth sucking on your brown nipples as the dance continued.

“From now on, we live together, we kill together. Is that understood?” You asked, tightening your grip on the back of his head, increasing in speed, your turn to make a sith mewl.

“Understood.”

Breathing hard, Qimir was not quite finished with you yet and before you could react, he had you on all fours, the force spreading your ass cheeks wider and wider for him and he held you fast, driving his cock rhythmically in your ass until completion.

And when he finished right there on the floor, he gently wiped you clean with his cape first before wrapping you in it and pulling you to his chest.

“You’re right, you are ready.” Qimir said,stroking your shoulder.

“If I’m no longer your acolyte, what am I?” You asked and met his gaze.

“What you’ve always been, powerful.”

That’s it! Hope you enjoyed it!

#qimir the acolyte #qimir x reader #qimir x black!reader #the acolyte x reader #the acolyte fanfiction

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coolshadowtwins · 5 months ago

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The next step on my MDZS Pokémon au, with part 1 being here, we’re going back in time from the Juniors!

Rules that I mentioned- 1) Everyone has a team of three. 2) their started is the equivalent to their sword, and has their swords name. If they have a second, named weapon, then a second Pokémon has a name. Let’s go!

So the Pokémon protagonists that we will be following are, *Drum roll 🥁🥁🥁*

Yep! It’s Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian!

So the story starts out with them only having an Eevee each. All three siblings got an Eevee, as the family got the eggs from JFM’s own Vaporeon.

The Jiangs own the water gym in the region, except JFM is also an elite four. So when the tournament season starts, and JFM can’t take gym challengers and instead has to take elite four challengers, who would man the gym?

The answer is Madam Yu. But her main team is not primarily water based, so she has to use gym Pokémon to match her husbands theme, which she hates. (I don’t have her drawn yet, so when I do, I’ll post her) She wants JC to take over, but he can’t with just an Eevee. So, it’s time for his Pokémon journey!

JC just wants to do his family proud, and get water types to take over the gym. He’s fully expecting to evolve his Eevee into a vaporeon. I had a little trouble, debating what other Pokémon to give him that felt JC, and if you can think of something better, please tell me! But I ended up going with Feebas, because I can only imagining him trying to fish up a Magikarp to get a gyarados (after probably episodes and episodes of trying and failing to get a water type) only to get a Feebas. And through ~shenanigans~ he has to keep the ugly, weak fish.

Of course, he doesn’t really know what it evolves into. Imagine his surprise later…. (I have a separate, older JC drawn up to show later)

I gave him a lotad, because you’re fighting a angry looking trainer that sends out a Ludicolo is hilarious to me. I don’t have an image of how he got that Pokémon, or when, but I do think it’s his last.

Now to WWX.

He got his Eevee, Suiban, at the same time as JC, when they are 10~ just a little after coming to live with the Jiangs. Side note here- I have no idea how his dog phobia works here. Is it a specific dog? Is it just dog Pokémon? I said before that Yiling is the graveyard town of the region, so maybe he’s just scared of Greavard. He was still on the streets after losing his parents, just like canon.

I think Zorua is his last Pokémon. I gave him that one purely because I felt it fit his vibes. I think he gets Drifloon when they pass through Yiling, to challenge the gym there. He actually had this Pokémon as a kid, and it got left in Yiling because it wasn’t in a ball. So when it saw WWX again, it just started following him again. I gave him Drifloon because of the Pokédex entries saying how it steals children! I felt that it was horrifying enough to work! JFM comes to find his dead friends child, only to find him living on the streets, with a Drifloon following him? Horrifying.

I think he gets his Drifloon before JC gets anymore Pokémon. Maybe he even gets his Zoroa before JC gets anymore Pokémon. This makes JC that much more desperate to catch something, leading to his fumble with the fishing.

I also don’t know which Pokémon gets to be Chenqing. I feel like, being the one got in Yiling, it should be Drifloon. But I think Zorua would be the ‘feared’ equivalent to the demonic cultivation. I would love to hear your thoughts.

Another thing that I imagine for WWX is that he had expected to take over the gym when JC, in the future, started completely taking over for his dad- gym and elite four. Like Madam Yu is doing. He fully expects to evolve his Eevee into a vaporeon as well, and had expected to get a team of water types to match. JC is not that happy when he ends the journey with the team that he has!

But it’s fine, right? He’ll just used borrowed Pokémon like Madam Yu does, and it’ll be no problem!

I was going to add a third to this post, but it got long! So I’ll add it in the next one!

Next time! The boys first gym battle, with (reminder) only an Eevee each!

#mdzs #mdzs fanart #wei wuxuan #jiang cheng #pokemon #Pokémon MDZS au

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sixhours · 8 months ago

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One Day at a Time - Chapter 3 - Embryo

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Days become weeks without word from Charlie. Every time he sees her, she gives him a little nod. Nothing overt, just enough to send a message.

We’re still here.

After two weeks, he’d found an old pocket calendar from 2001 and put it by his bed, and he marks off each day that passes with a big X. He’s done the math, and there’s a date in mid-December circled in red pen.

He can’t sleep for shit under the best of circumstances, but lately it’s impossible. He’s given up trying, choosing instead to crash on the couch with a movie playing on a loop in the background until a fitful sleep takes him.

He’s parked like this on the couch one night when the knock surprises him out of a half-doze. He fumbles for the remote and pauses the movie before answering the door.

It’s Charlie.

“I’m bleeding,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

His stomach sinks.

He reaches out without thinking, hands on her shoulders; she’s shivering. He pulls her forward into the warmth of the little house, closing the door behind her.

“Midwife says it could be normal or it could be a miscarriage,” she says flatly. “No way to tell yet.”

He seethes. He remembers Maria and Tommy telling him about the Jackson midwife; she was competent, but her bedside manner was shit.

“Does it…feel like…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“I don’t know, I’ve never made it this far. I’m not cramping. It’s not a lot of blood. I just…you wanted me to tell you, so I’m telling you.”

He nods, feeling stupid and helpless and hating it.

“Uh…sit,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “Want tea? It’s herbal. No caffeine.”

She nods warily. “Sure…I guess.”

He sets the water to boil, gets out two mugs, pulls the little canister of tea from the shelf, and fills the infuser with dried peppermint leaves. He can’t stand the stuff, but Ellie won’t drink coffee like a normal person, so they always have some in the house.

He glances at Charlie from over his shoulder as he waits for the water to boil. She’s on the couch, arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold back the thing she fears by force of will.

“You take milk or anythin’?”

“Just sugar, if you have it.”

He does. The kettle whistles and he pours the steaming water over the leaves.

She takes the tea with a small, hollow smile and sips at it. He takes a seat in the armchair next to her.

“Is there anything we can do?”

She shakes her head. “Midwife said to check in tomorrow morning. If it gets worse before then, I’ll go to the clinic.”

“Okay,” he says. “I can…wait with you.”

She nods, takes another sip, and sinks back into the couch. Waiting.

The silence presses in around them. It’s like torture, and Joel wracks his tired brain for something, anything to say. She saves him the trouble, blinking with interest at the television screen.

“Is this Gunz Blazin’ 2 ?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid,” she says, smiling a little. “My dad and I used to watch these movies all the time. They’re awful.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah.

She looks at him and picks up the remote. “Mind if I…?”

“Yeah, yeah…sure.”

She hits Play and sits back, curling her legs under her and clutching the tea in her hands.

The credits roll a couple of hours later. Charlie has nestled into the couch with a blanket over her lap, empty mug resting on the coffee table.

“S’it as bad as you remember?” Joel rasps.

“Yes. Maybe worse. But in a good way,” she smiles a little. “Nostalgic, I guess.”

He nods. “How’re you, uh, feelin’?”

“Fine,” she says automatically, then laughs. “Not fine, actually. I’m exhausted and I’m sick all the time and my boobs are so fucking sore I could—“

She stops. “Shit, I’m sorry. That’s more than you needed to know. My husband used to say I was born without a filter.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs, his face burning. “You’re, uh, married?”

“Was…or what passed for marriage in the QZ, I guess. We were cordyceps orphans…grew up together after the outbreak, protected each other…kept each other out of trouble. We had 17 years together before…before our luck ran out.”

“So he, uh…you and he…wanted kids?”

“Yeah,” she snorts. “Sounds pretty stupid, right? Bringing a baby into a quarantine zone?”

He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. He knew people still brought children into this broken world, but he’d never considered it. His interest in that life had stopped when Sarah’s heart stopped beating.

“I miscarried three times,” she murmurs. “We might have kept trying if we’d made it to Jackson together…I don’t know.”

“What happened to him?”

She shrugs. “We ran into trouble on the way here. He was bit. I…took care of it. We always said that was the deal, that we wouldn’t let each other turn. He…he didn’t even flinch when I pulled the trigger.”

She’s looking down at her stomach now, tracing her fingers over the ridges in her shirt, lost in thought.

“I wasn’t looking for this any more than you were,” she says softly. “But I want it anyway…I–I can’t help it. Is that foolish?”

Her eyes bore into his then, not sad now, almost…angry. Challenging him to deny her this.

Joel doesn’t know how to answer, but he huffs a soft, “No.”

She rubs her palm slowly across her lower belly. “This is the longest I’ve ever made it. I didn’t have morning sickness or the…other symptoms before, so I thought…maybe…maybe this time…”

“It’s not over ‘til it’s over,” he says softly.

He wants to take her hand. Instead, he gathers their mugs and takes them to the sink.

“Oh…it’s late,” she says faintly. “I should go.”

He frowns. “You shouldn’t be alone. You can stay here tonight.”

“Oh, no—”

He shakes his head, cutting off her protest. “If somethin’ goes wrong or if you get…sick…someone should be with you. I could come to your place if that’s–or call a friend if you don’t want, uh, me–”

“It’s not that, Joel, but I’ve been through this before–”

“By yourself?”

She swallows hard and ducks her head. “No.”

“Then stay,” he says. “Just for the night. I can put you up in–”

He falters, thinking of Ellie’s old room, still decorated in ugly pink stripes. Meant for a teenager but too close to a nursery.

“You can stay in my room,” he says quickly. “I’ll take the couch. Usually end up down here anyway.”

“I couldn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he waves her off. “Can’t sleep for shit no matter where I land. C’mon.”

He makes for the stairs before she can argue, and breathes a sigh of relief when she follows. He pauses outside the door to his bedroom.

“Just, uh…wait here. Gimme a minute.”

He ducks into the room, picking up clothes and tossing them into the hamper. He strips the bed and digs wrinkled but clean sheets out of the linen closet. After a pause, he picks up the calendar and the red pen from the nightstand and stuffs them into his pocket.

“Should be all good. The bathroom’s, uh, right through there,” he gestures. “All yours. There’s, uh, pain medicine if you need it.”

“Thanks…”

“I’ll be downstairs,” he says. “If you need anything, if anything, uh, happens…just come get me. Or yell.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” he says.

“I will, Joel,” she murmurs. “Thanks.”

“G’night then.”

He goes back to his usual spot on the couch and lies down, staring at the little cracks in the living room ceiling. He won’t be able to sleep now. He thinks about the raw need in her voice as her fingers traced her stomach, the hitch in her breath, maybe this time …

He throws an arm across his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts. A small, grief-blackened part of him hates that he cares. Before Ellie, he could numb the pain with booze and pills and a lucrative career in smuggling. But he’s not that man anymore. It would be so much easier if he were, if he couldn’t feel the little flicker of hope in his chest.

The calendar and pen dig into his hip, and he pulls them out of his pocket. It’s well after midnight, so without thinking, he uncaps the pen and crosses off another day.

He must have fallen asleep. When he opens his eyes, the room is lighter, and Charlie is nudging his shoulder.

He’s upright before he’s fully awake. “What is it? Y’okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. “I’m going to go. The midwife said she’d see me at 7:00. I need to go home and change.”

“Right, okay. Do you, uh…do you want me to come with–”

“No,” she says quickly. “I haven’t told her…or anyone…about you.”

“Right,” he blinks. “Um. Let me know…okay?”

She nods, holding her arms around her middle like she could protect herself from the worst. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches the back of her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, withdrawing. “I…I hope it works out,” he says lamely.

“Do you?” she asks, with an edge of bitterness in her voice. She’s immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind, and that was…cruel. Missing my filter again.”

“It’s…fine.”

He wants to tell her he does have hope, despite himself, but she’s already out the door.

Charlie hasn’t been gone for five minutes when there’s a knock.

Shit.

He’s on the schedule for a construction job and he’d promised to meet Tommy early. Now he’s late.

“I’m comin’,” he mutters, wincing at the stiffness in his back. “Hold your goddamned horses.”

“Long night?” Tommy smirks on the other side of the door. “Thought I saw Charlie doin’ the walk of shame–”

“Shut it,” Joel growls, surprising himself at the bite in his voice. “Don’t say another fuckin’ word.”

Tommy’s hands coming up in mock defense. “Whoa, easy. Didn’t know it was like that.”

“It’s not,” Joel snaps.

“Alright,” he says, peering at his older brother curiously. “So…you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Lemme get my stuff.”

He’s distracted all day. The work is simple enough–framing a new barn for the sheep, to replace one that’s been infested by termites beyond repair. It should be easy, but he’s overtired and he can’t seem to make his hands behave. Tommy keeps having to repeat himself, giving Joel curious looks.

“You’re losin’ it, big brother,” he says amiably when Joel brings him a jar of the wrong-size screws for the second time in a row.

It’s mid-afternoon when he brings the hammer down on his middle finger. He watches the whole thing as though in slow motion, knowing exactly what’s going to happen well before he feels the pain, but he’s powerless to stop it.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he hisses, shaking out his injured hand. Purplish red blood is already blooming under the wide, flat nail. He resists the urge to stick the finger in his mouth to soothe the throbbing ache like a child.

“You break it?” Tommy’s looking over his shoulder.

“No,” he growls. “Just a bruise.”

“Yeah, right. Well, you’re done for today,” Tommy says. “Go home. Made good progress, anyway, we’re almost done.”

Joel shoots him a look, but it doesn’t affect his younger brother in the slightest. It never does. So he relents, packing his tools and trudging away, finger throbbing.

He sees her on the walk home.

Charlie is standing with someone just outside the caf. She looks about as tired as he feels, but then she sees him and brightens, the subtlest glimmer as she catches his eye. The look stops him in mid-stride, frozen in the middle of the street.

She gives him a little nod.

Warmth spreads through his chest, a flood of relief, and that blasted hope again.

We’re still here.

#the last of us #fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #babyfic #pregnancy

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bwabys-scenarios · 1 year ago

Text

Reunited

Part 26

Illumi x Reader x Feitan

part 25

part 27

warnings: feitan is still rude, but he’s getting a lil better… just a lil tho. Also mentions of human trafficking and cleaning/cooking a fish, and uvogin eating roosters alive(he was just hungry ok)

A/N: I refuse to contribute to the “uvogin is dumb” stereotype because he’s canonically intelligent.

taglist: @tsukilover11 @mercyboluthecrazychicken @sxyriii @shidoni-san @living4tomrua @lemonslut @honeylunalove @sugarrushdaydream @canthebest1

if you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

“I’m headed to town, I’ll be back before dark.”

Feitan watched as (Name) pulled on her second shoe. She wore a pair of overalls over a tshirt, the outfit making Feitan frown.

She was still acting strange, even 2 days later. He’d thought her little mood change would end quickly, but her nervous fidgeting and refusal to eat around him stuck around.

She also wouldn’t wear anything that was slightly revealing, even when the heat was too much to bear. He would catch her pulling off her long sleeves as soon as she thought he wasn’t looking, sighing in relief.

For some reason, this pissed him off.

He didn’t reply to her, focusing on slowly moving his fingers. Over the past day, he’d started getting feeling back in his fingers, so he’d been trying to get them to move as much as possible.

“… bye Feitan.”

——————

(Name) unloaded her goods onto the shelves, making sure the labels were facing the street. A tired sigh left her lips, the girl pulling at her overalls with a huff.

Feitan’s insult had been a hit to her self esteem. She had heard that word a lot growing up, having to hide her body in some vain attempt to keep attention away from her.

After moving out and living alone, she’d grown much more comfortable with herself, wearing tank tops and shorts that barely covered her ass.

Maybe she’d been a bit too comfortable.

Feitan’s presence did make her a bit nervous, but she’d been able to keep her confidence up due to his disinterest in her appearance. He hadn’t seemed to care what she looked like, only ever insulting her intelligence or handiwork, but never saying anything about her physical appearance.

So she was shocked when he said what he did. (Name) didn’t know what to do or say, the memories of a lifetime of bullying and harassment surfacing in her mind.

Usually, the best thing to do was to diffuse the situation by agreeing then distancing yourself, so that’s what she did.

But it was hard to distance herself from someone she was taking care of.

(Name) hadn’t cared what he thought of her before. She didn’t mind if he didn’t find her pretty, not many people did, but the thought of him possibly finding her repulsive HURT.

Over the past 3 weeks she’d come to care for him, maybe not as a friend but as a fellow human being. He’d been hurt, both physically and mentally, and she wanted to try her best to help him.

Although she didn’t expect anything in return for her help, she had at least hoped he would be nicer to her after a while, but it seemed he wasn’t warming up to her. It was a bit depressing. (Name) had thought they could become friends…

She was stirred from her thoughts by the vibration of her cellphone. She reached into her pocket and pulled the device out, seeing Chrollo was calling her.

“Hello, (Name).”

He talked as soon as she’d answered. “Hi Chrollo! Not to be rude, but is there a reason you’re calling?”

“That’s not rude to ask at all. I am calling to inform you that my comrade will be arriving at your stand in…”

He paused for a moment, possibly looking down at his watch or phone screen.

“5 minutes. I tried to call you earlier, but the call wouldn’t go through. I assume it was because of the signal issue you told me about last time.”

“Yes, most likely. Thank you for telling me. Can you tell me your comrades name?”

“His name is uvogin. Don’t worry, you won’t miss him. He’s… large.”

(Name) raised an eyebrow at this. “Alright… thank you again. Is there anything else?”

“Mmm, no. Goodbye (Name). I wish you good luck.”

“Good luck? What do y-“

He hung up before she could finish her sentence.

—————

Chrollo hadn’t lied about him being huge.

(Name) watched as a beast of a man went from stall to stall, asking for her. She stepped out from behind the counter and waved. “Hi, I’m (Name).”

Uvogin stopped in his tracks, taking in her appearance.

She was short, but taller than Feitan. Her face was pretty, and appearance soft. He hummed as he gave her a once over, nodding approvingly. She was definitely someone he could see Feitan being interested in.

“Hey there, doll face. Name’s Uvogin.”

(Name) shrunk under his gaze, peeking at him shyly. “Nice to meet you, Uvogin. You’re a friend of Feitan, right? Come in!”

The man had to crouch to enter her booth, sitting on a chair in the corner. “I have to work for a bit longer, then we can go home. If you get bored you can explore the town, just meet back up with me a-“

“I’ll stay here.”

The girl only nodded, turning her attention to a customer.

Uvogin watched her work, taking in every small detail of her behavior. She was kind, always thanking each customer and smiling even after they left. (Name) rummaged around under her counter and pulled out a box.

“There’s some pastries in here if you’re hungry. The old lady that runs the booth across from me traded some for a few jars of jam. Just leave a few for Feitan, he has a huge sweet tooth.”

Uvogin opened the box, seeing rows of pastries of differing types. “You gonna eat any?”

She paused, looking from the box of pastries then back to the street. “No, I’m not hungry. Please, help yourself.”

He shrugged and complied, eating as many as he wanted.

An hour later and (Name) started packing up her basket, humming to herself as she lifted the leftover jars. Uvogin picked up her basket once she was done, not listening to her protests.

“Can’t let a pretty lady like you carry everything, can I?”

She couldn’t argue with that.

———————

(Name) walked through town with Uvogin, picking up a few things off her grocery list before they made their way to where she parked her bike.

“Oh. We can just walk home, I wouldn’t want to-“

Before she could finish her sentence, Uvogin lifted the girl up and threw her over her shoulder, then grabbed the bike with the hand he held the basket with.

“H-hey! Put me down!”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. He smacked her leg gently to stop her from squirming.

“Quit wiggling, this way will be way faster. Trust me.”

Although (Name) didn’t like it, she complied. “… alright, but don’t drop me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

(Name) had never gone so fast in her life. The man moved at a speed she didn’t think was humanly possible. If she didn’t close her eyes, she’d get motion sickness.

“U-Uvogin, you’re so fast! Are you like… a track star?”

He laughed again. “No, nothing like that. I do have a lot of experience running away, but never from a fight.”

(Name) gasped. “Oh, you must be very brave then! I dislike fighting myself.”

“Hmm, is that so? I woulda pegged you for a little brawler.” He teased. (Name) giggled at that.

“Oh, you’re funny. It’s strange, you’re nothing like I imagined you would be. Feitan’s so…”

“Unsociable?”

“Yeah!”

They reached her home way quicker than (Name) thought possible, the usually 45 minute bike ride cut down to a 10 minute run.

He dropped her off onto the ground gently, helping her stand. “Yeah, he’s always been like that. Don’t take it personally.”

He patted her butt affectionately, the girl jumping at the contact.

Feitan kicked open the front door, staring at the two.

“… Uvogin.” He said in a greeting.

The man grinned down at him, his hand still on her butt. “Now who got you looking all fucked up?”

Feitan scowled, leaning against the doorway. His eyes drifted from Uvogin’s face to his arm.

Uvogin caught him staring at his hand on her butt and got a mischievous look in his eye.

“You got yourself a cute little nurse taking care of you here, don’t you?”

He pulled the girl closer to him, (Name) stiffening.

Feitan didn’t say anything, instead walking back inside with a huff. Uvogin held back a laugh, letting the girl go and entering her house.

“Um… welcome to my home…”

She followed the two in, wondering if inviting him into her home was the right choice.

“So… Uvogin, what do you want for dinner?”

(Name) sat between the two on the couch. Uvogin took up a majority of it, forcing (Name) to lean her leg against Feitan. For once, he didn’t seem to mind her physical contact.

“How about some roasted chicken?”

“Sure! Any specific sides you want?”

“Whatever you think is best, sweetheart.”

Feitan shot the man a look, (Name) getting up to prepare dinner.

“Feitan, is there anything you’d like?”

“… rice.”

(Name) leaned over the back of the couch, peeking at him. Her face was dangerously close to his.

“What was that Feitan?”

He turned his face away quickly. “Said rice. You deaf?”

She rolled her eyes and walked over to the kitchen.

“Man, Fei, what’s got you all worked up?”

Not many people would be able to notice his stiff posture being a sign he was uncomfortable, but Uvogin did. The shorter man sighed.

“Nothing. What boss sent you for?”

Uvogin grinned, leaning against the couch. “Boss was worried about you.”

Feitan’s eyes were on (Name)’s figure again. “I see. Anything else?”

Uvogin pulled out a cell phone and tossed it to Feitan. The man blinked at Uvogin, the cell phone falling into his lap. “Ah, forgot you can’t move your arms. Boss asked me to give you this. It’s a cellphone that can get signal anywhere, he had Shalnark work on it for you.”

He picked the phone back up and turned it on, showing feitan the screen. It only had the options to call, take pictures, and text.

“It’s simple, but it’ll get the job done.”

Uvogin sniffed the air and raised an eyebrow in Feitan’s direction. “Why do you smell like a chick?”

Feitan groaned. “Shut up.”

——————

“Uvogin, could I ask you for a favor?”

(Name) stood behind the couch, wearing a frilly pink apron over her overalls.

“Sure, you’ve been taking care of this piece of work for a few weeks now, what can I do for you, sugar?”

Feitan shot him a glare, glancing between him and (Name). He wasn’t sure why, but the way Uvogin acted so flirtatiously with her was getting on his nerves.

“I have my hands full in the kitchen, could you go gather some eggs from the chicken coop?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

The large man stood, towering over (Name). “I’ll be right back.”

(Name) waved as he left out the door, calling out a sweet thanks before returning to the kitchen. “Hey, Feitan?”

The man didn’t reply, but turned to look at her.

“Since you’re able to move your fingers, do you want to flatten out this pie crust? It might help loosen them up!”

She set the pie crust on the table, smiling at him. Feitan stood up and approached the table, plopping into the chair. (Name) helped to lift his arms, placing his hands in the pan.

She stood behind him and held his hands, showing him how to press down correctly. “Here, like this.”

The feeling of her chest pressed against his back as she helped him only caused Feitan to stiffen. He struggled to concentrate when she was so close that he was able to smell her perfume.

“Oh, you’re getting it! Okay I have to work on dinner, just keep at it and tell me when you’re done.”

She leaned back and walked away, checking on the chicken before pulling out a cutting board.

Feitan tried to steady his breathing. She was always so warm, every time she touched him it was difficult to think.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as he pressed the pie crust down with his fingers. There was a strange warm feeling bubbling in his stomach.

BAWK BAWK!!

(Name) lifted her head at the sound of her chickens panicked calls. She raised an eyebrow in Feitan’s direction before stepping into her flip flops and sprinting out the door. Feitan was quick to follow after her, the man having a hunch to what was happening.

“Uvogin WHAT THE HELL!?”

(Name) threw open the coop to see the remains of two of her roosters lying on the ground, Uvogin having another one in his mouth.

The man looked up nonchalantly, blood dribbling down his chin. “Hey, your chickens attacked me, so technically this is self defense.”

(Name) wasn’t hearing any of this. The girl had taken off her flip flop, smacking him on the back repeatedly. “DROP IT!”

The man did little to protect himself, not even feeling the impact of her blows. He simply caught her wrist.

“Why, it’s already dead. Does it matter?”

He was right, the first thing he did was break the roosters neck, but (Name) used her other hand to tear the chicken from his grasp.

“I know that, but if you eat raw chicken you’ll get sick! At least wait until dinner!”

The girl wrenched her hand free and stormed off, brushing past Feitan. The shorter man blinked, looking between her and Uvogin.

Feitan didn’t often see THAT look on Uvogin’s face, but it never meant anything good.

“Oh ho ho, I like her. She’s feisty.”

He brushed the blood from his mouth, kicking the chickens corpse out of his way. Feitan didn’t like the way Uvogin’s eyes followed (Name)’s hips.

“Uvogin.”

Feitan gripped the man’s arm, his eyes narrowed. “Control yourself.”

Uvogin glanced at Feitan’s hand before brushing it away. “Why? Not like you own her.”

Feitan didn’t answer. Uvogin wasn’t wrong, she wasn’t his, and he didn’t even want her. So why did the thought of Uvogin wanting her in a not-so-friendly way make him seethe?

Feitan knew he found her somewhat attractive, but that’s where his connection to her ended. She meant nothing to him other than being a means to an end.

The black haired man turned on his heels, walking back inside behind (Name).

——————

Feitan couldn’t help but feel annoyed with the current situation.

(Name) sat a plate in front of Uvogin, giving him a smile. “Here you are! I hope the food is to your liking.”

She smiled a bit too sweetly in the man’s direction for Feitan’s liking.

Again, (Name) sat down next to Feitan without a plate of her own, feeding him as Uvogin watched. It was a little embarrassing for Uvogin to see him like this, only worsening his mood.

“There, all done. Would you like some dessert-“

“No.”

(Name) tilted her head. “Are you sure, you always w-“

“I said no.”

(Name) stopped, suddenly standing up and pushing her chair in. “Goodnight Uvogin, I hope the pull out couch will suffice.”

Uvogin nodded through a mouthful of food. “Yeah, should be alright.”

The girl began to walk away.

“(Name)?”

She turned back to look at Uvogin. “Yes?”

“You gonna eat?”

She paused, looking between him and Feitan before pulling at the fabric of her shirt. “Maybe later.”

Then she was gone, shutting her bedroom door behind her. Uvogin glanced at Feitan between bites of food. “What’s up with her?”

The shorter man shrugged, huffing. “Been like that for a few days. Maybe started period.”

Uvogin shook her head. “Doesn’t smell like blood. Would’ve thought you’d known that, Fei.”

“Was joking.”

The muscular man let out a laugh. “I see.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being Uvogin’s chewing.

“She acts strange lately. Unnerving.”

Feitan broke the silence with his statement, leaning back against his chair. Uvogin raised an eyebrow. Feitan wasn’t usually the type to care about how others acted if it didn’t affect him, so obviously it was affecting him somewhat.

“Did something happen to make her… upset?”

Neither of the two men were that informed on women, with Uvogin having a bit more knowledge that Feitan.

“Don’t know. Just started acting like that one day.”

“Think back to that day. Did anything happen that was unusual?”

Feitan tried to think back to it, remembering her in her bathing suit and being slapped by a fish.

“She got slapped by fish?”

Uvogin chuckled. “That’s not exactly fun, but she doesn’t seem the type to be mad over that. By the way she’s been acting, maybe you said something to upset her?”

Feitan kept thinking. “Called her idiot, but never got upset with that before.”

He hummed in thought, and then it hit him.

“Called her… something different.”

Uvogin put his elbows on the table, leaning into his hands. “And what exactly did you call her?”

Feitan thought back to all the signs he should have noticed. Wearing less revealing clothes, not eating in front of him, struggling to keep up her happy face in his presence…

“Fatty.”

Uvogin physically recoiled, giving his friend a ‘holy shit’ look before hissing out a low yikes.

“That’s possibly the worst thing you could call a woman. You’ve really outdone yourself, Fei.”

Feitan groaned. “So what? Called her fat, not like it’s untrue.”

Uvogin sighed. “Buddy, it doesn’t matter. Have you commented on her appearance before that?”

“… no? Why matter?”

Uvogin clicked his tongue. “It matters because she probably didn’t think you cared what she looked like, and after you called her that it solidified in her mind that you see her as fat. Probably made her think that’s all you see her as.”

Feitan scrunched his eyebrows together. “But I don’t?”

“Yeah but she can’t read your mind, Fei. Why don’t you try talking to her about it?”

Feitan made an uncomfortable sound, tapping on the table nervously. He didn’t want her to know that he cared about her, even if slightly. “Don’t want to. She’ll get over it.”

With that, Feitan stood and walked to his room. “Gonna sleep. Goodnight.”

Uvogin watched the man leave, a frown on his lips.

He wasn’t an idiot, Uvogin could tell Feitan had at least some kind of affection for the girl. And from his brief time spent with (Name), he could tell this was really affecting her.

‘Guess I’ll have to be a villain in this story. You’ll thank me for it later, Fei.’

——————

“How long will you be staying?” (Name) asked as she placed a stack of pancakes in front of the large man. Uvogin stabbed the top pancake and shoved it into his mouth, chewing for a moment before answering.

“About two days. My ride will be here either Wednesday or Thursday. Depends on how fast he finishes his job.”

Feitan hummed. “Nobunaga?”

Uvogin nodded in response.

“Figured.”

After breakfast, Uvogin and Feitan followed (Name) outside. She had requested the two help with her work, neither able to complain. After all, she was feeding and housing them, did they have the right to?

“Feitan, how are your arms feeling?”

He replied by making his hands into fists, only grimacing slightly. “Can move hands now.”

(Name) gasped, patting his back. “Oh wow, that was quick! You can pick up fruit and drop them into this basket! That way, you don’t need to lift your arms!”

She demonstrated by squatting down and picking up a fallen apple and dropping it into the basket.

He only grumbled at her touch, moving away. Feitan didn’t want to admit to her that he had gained movement in his hand because he had gotten angry Uvogin was leering at her, so he remained silent.

(Name) ignored his attitude, moving onto Uvogin.

“You task is catching some fish for dinner. There’s a fishing pole I-“

“I won’t be needing a pole, sweetheart.”

(Name) followed Uvogin to the river, Feitan only able to watch as he picked up apples. “I’ll be back and forth. I like to use the river water when watering my garden.”

In her hands was a large, elephant shaped watering can. It was cute, something Feitan could picture her using.

She seemed to like the softer things in life, like stuffed animals, magical girl anime, and romance novels. These were all things he’d noticed during his observations.

During the few times he’d entered her room while she was sleeping(to wake her up of course, definitely not to watch her sleep), he’d seen at least a dozen plushies littering her bed, and anime posters taped to her walls.

Her interests were endearing, and he hated how cute he found it. He hated that he LIKED when she’d ramble out her newest interest as she washed his hair.

(Name) was carrying the now full watering can with both hands, the weight of it causing her to groan. Before Feitan could (grumpily) offer his help, Uvogin appeared next to her and grabbed it from her hands.

“I got this, beautiful. Why don’t you rest your pretty little head?”

(Name) blushed at the compliment, quickly hurrying inside. Feitan gave Uvogin a dirty look, his hands gripping the fabric of his pants.

She never shied away with a blush like that with him. What was it about Uvogin that made her react that way? Did she find him handsome, more handsome than HIM? Was it that he was taller, more muscular?

Feitan shook those thoughts from his head.

‘Don’t care. Don’t care what she thinks at all. Just a stupid girl.’

Uvogin wasn’t used to being able to see Feitan’s entire face. Now, he could see every subtle emotion cross over his friends face. Jealousy, self consciousness, embarrassment. Most people wouldn’t be able to pick up on this, but Uvogin knew Feitan better than most.

That meant his plan was working.

The large man had decided that if he wouldn’t admit to his feelings or talk with (Name), he’s flirt with her until Feitan had no choice but to act. After all, they were thieves, and were very possessive of what they viewed as THEIRS.

————————

Around lunch time, (Name) exited the house carrying a tray of sandwiches and drinks. “Hey boys, I made lunch!”

She settled the tray onto the table on her porch, waiting for the two to arrive. Feitan was the first one to walk up, plopping down onto the cushioned chair with a huff.

“Lemonade?”

(Name) nodded, setting his food and drink in front of him. “Yep! Made just how you like it?”

Oh. She’d made it with his taste in mind. Feitan sipped on his lemonade as Uvogin plopped down next to him.

“This is delicious. You know, you’d make a good wife (Name).”

(Name) waved her hand dismissively as her cheeks heated up. “Oh no, I don’t think I’m fit to be a wife. Men have never really been interested in me.”

Uvogin raised an eyebrow as his eyes dragged down her figure and back up to her pretty face. “I don’t see why, you’re easy on the eyes.”

Feitan could tell (Name) wasn’t used to this type of attention by the way she quickly covered her face and ran away. It was confusing to him too, had no one ever told her that she was attractive before? Was it not glaringly obvious?

“Ain’t she just a cutie? I might just have to snatch her up when I leave.”

Feitan sends him a dirty look, gritting his teeth. “No. Need her assistance.”

Uvogin hums. “Ah I see. I won’t take her then.”

Feitan visibly relaxed when he stated this, but Uvogin leaned forward, meeting Feitan’s eyes as a wicked grin spread across his face.

“You wouldn’t mind me just fucking her then, right?”

——————

(Name) jumped at the sound of something crashing on her porch. She left the jars she’d been cleaning in the sink as she raced out the door to see what the commotion was.

Feitan stood over Uvogin, his umbrella pressed against the man’s throat.

“You push your luck,” feitan said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowed and angry.

Uvogin didn’t seem fazed at all, he even looked… excited.

“If I knew all it would take is a little teasing to get you so riled up, I would’ve done so long ago.”

The man easily pushed the umbrella away and jumped into a standing position. He leaned down to whisper something in Feitan’s ear (Name) couldn’t hear, but the shorter man’s enraged expression relaxed slightly, his uneven breathing slowing down.

He grunted in response, shrugging the man off and walking past (Name). Feitan began walking alongside the river, kicking rocks as he disappeared from view.

(Name) turned to Uvogin, perplexed on how Feitan was able to take down such a large man so easily. “… what happened?”

Uvogin shrugged, leaning against the porch railing as he continued eating his 3rd sandwich.

“Just some teasing. Fei’s a bit on the dense side, so I’m just helping him out.”

(Name) didn’t understand how teasing would help him figure out anything, but didn’t question it. It wasn’t her business, but a part of her worried for Feitan. He’d been in an even worse mood than usual.

“Well… go easy on him. He’s…” she stopped before she could call feitan her friend.

“He’s sensitive.”

Uvogin noticed this. It wasn’t often that people stuck up for his unsocial friend, the last time he could remember being in childhood.

(Name) grabbed a sandwich and took a big bite before stepping off the porch and running down the riverside.

Uvogin watched, smirking to himself.

‘Boss will be happy to know Feitan is in good hands after all. She might just be the one.’

He looked down to her half eaten sandwich.

“Can’t let this go to waste.”

——————

(Name) jogged along the rocky terrain until she could see Feitan’s silhouette sitting with his feet in the cold water.

Feitan spared her a glance before continuing to stare into the water, his hands gripping the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey. You doing alright?”

(Name) plopped down beside him and pulled her knees to her chest, joining him in staring at the flowing river.

“… yes.”

(Name) thought about the what to do next for a moment, weighing her options. She took a deep breath and leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair ticking his cheek.

“You’re a bad liar.”

The man didn’t know how to react, his shoulders stiffening to the point she could feel the tension. He didn’t yell or shy away from her touch, staying silent next to her.

(Name) stayed like that for a few more seconds before pulling away and standing up, offering him her hand.

“Come on. I’m gonna show you something cool.”

He looked from her face to her hand, before hesitantly taking it.

———————

(Name) led him by the hand further down the river. Although he wasn’t the biggest fan of physical contact, his hand in hers didn’t bother him, much to his chagrin.

The pads of her fingers rubbed against the back of his hand gently, causing him to tighten his grip. The feeling of her soft, unscarred palm against his calloused one was a nice contrast.

He let himself enjoy the feeling of comfort, silently following her like a loyal dog.

“Just a little further. I think you’ll really like it!”

Their journey continued for a few more minutes before (Name) let go of his hand, jogging toward a forest tree line. Feitan looked down at his hand, the warmth (Name) had provided slowly fading away. He rushed toward suddenly, grabbing her hand again before his mind could stop him.

(Name) continued jogging, only looking back for a second to give him a confused smile.

The two entered the forest, (Name) leading him between trees and over a small stream before she finally stopped.

“Here we are.”

Feitan stepped forward, not daring to let go of her hand as he took in the sight before him.

Wisteria trees created a circle, the center holding a small shack. It had a tinfoil roof and solid wooden walls.

“This is my hideout! I come here when my family visits and I need a break.”

She let go of his hand after giving it a gentle squeeze, opening the door to the shack. “Come on in!”

There was enough room for the two to stand inside comfortably, a few pillows on the ground serving as cushioning. There we a bookshelf full of manga and fantasy novels, the girl pulling a few off the shelf and stuffing them into her bag.

“My parents send me manga and books every month. They have a friend that works at a library so whenever they retire old books they’re sent my way. Is there any that interest you?”

Feitan crouched down next to her, perusing the collection of manga. It wasn’t much, only having a few different series, but Feitan spotted something he’d read before.

It was a dark sci-fi, a manga Chrollo had gifted him after they’d raided an abandoned library.

“This manga doesn’t have a lot of dialogue. I think you’ll like it, Feitan.”

Feitan pulled the first two volumes out of their place, flipping through the pages before nodding. “This one.”

(Name) grinned, stuffing them into her bag. “Alright, anything else?”

He picked a random romance manga, feeling drawn to it for some reason. After filling her bag, the girl sat on the cushion and pushed her hair out of her face.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Why you ask?”

(Name) poked her lip out in a pout. “Hey, at least answer my question before asking one of your own.”

A ghost of a smile graced his lips. “I’m… okay. Tired.”

She nodded, lying on her back. “Yeah. Uvogin said he was teasing you earlier.”

Feitan scowled. What all did that oaf tell her?

“Really? That all? Didn’t try anything else?”

“No, just ate your sandwich.”

He grumbled at that, crossing his legs. “Always does that.”

(Name) giggled. “You two must be good friends. He seems to care about you a lot.”

Feitan glanced at her, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. “Yeah. Could say that.”

(Name) didn’t ask anymore questions, instead deciding to chat about his recovery and show him her favorite manga. He didn’t reply much, but he was way less hostile.

An hour passed, the two now quiet. (Name) suddenly stretched, standing up and offering her hand once again.

“Let’s head back, I need to get started on dinner or Uvogin will eat my chickens again.”

Feitan snickered, allowing her to pull him to his feet. His hand remained in hers the entire way back, the man only letting go when the house was in sight.

—————

“Oh wow!”

(Name) peered over the edge of the bucket, several fish staring right back out her. “How many did you catch?”

“13. Already ate some though, so there’s 9 left.”

(Name) didn’t question him on how he ate the fish, instead getting to work descaling and deboning them.

Feitan watched in mild surprise as she worked. He hadn’t expected a soft girl like her to be able to kill an animal and skin it without so much as a squeal.

“Wow pretty lady, you’re good with your hands. How many times have you done this?”

Uvogin sat at the counter, Feitan next to him. They had been watching her work quietly, following every movement she made with curious eyes.

“Oh, I’m the oldest child of a family of six. For a while my family didn’t have much money, so we relied on fishing and hunting to feed ourselves. My momma had her work cut out for her raising my youngest sister, so I ended being the one to clean up any game my dad would bring home.”

She placed the cleaned and battered fillets into a skillet, the sound of them frying echoing through the kitchen. “Although, they’re not my real family, I still love them a lot.”

“Real family? So you’re not their kid?” Uvogin asked, curious. (Name) nodded.

“Yeah, I was adopted when I was four years old. My mom and dad used to participate in an organization called “Bakers for the Broken”. They’d bake bread and pastries and hand them out the homeless kids where I came from. I think the place was called…”

She dropped another fillet into the skillet, humming in thought.

“Oh! It was called Meteor City. Apparently that’s where I was born.”

The two made eye contact, their expressions softening ever so slightly.

“Meteor City, huh? You remember anything about it?”

(Name) paused, her hand instinctively moving towards the left side of her lower back.

“No, not really. Mom and Dad found me wandering around, wearing nothing but an oversized tshirt and shorts. I kept saying that ‘they’re coming for me’. I can’t remember who they are or what they did to me, but apparently it was too awful to tell me, even as an adult.”

She lifted up the back of her shirt, showing a small scar. It was a simple star, with an eye in the middle.

“Apparently they were human traffickers. They cut this into my skin to brand me as their merchandise.”

Feitan’s eyes bore into the mark, his grip on the table tightening. Uvogin wasn’t doing much better.

The memories of their deceased childhood friend flooded their mind. Would (Name) have suffered a similar fate if she hadn’t been saved by her parents?

“I’m getting the mark removed this winter. It’s for the best, considering they could still be looking for me.”

(Name) pulled her shirt back down, taking the finished fish fillets out of the pan and onto a piece of paper towel.

“Sorry, that was a lot to dump on you two. Sometimes when I start talking I just can’t stop.”

She turned to the two, her eyes widening.

They were angry, but she could tell it wasn’t at her. Feitan stood up and approached her, grabbing her wrist. “No. Don’t say sorry. Didn’t deserve that.”

She slipped her hand into his, smiling down at him. “Thanks. I don’t know if I have the right to be upset, since I can’t remember it. There’s a lot of people out there that aren’t so lucky.”

Feitan looked away, squeezing her hand before letting go.

There seemed to be an unsaid agreement between the two. This girl wasn’t their enemy, and although Feitan would continue to be guarded, just knowing she was raised in meteor city created an almost kinship with her in his and Uvogin’s heart.

She may not remember the city, but it would always live on within her. The residents of the dumping city never truly left, their nonexistent birth certificates being the only evidence they’d ever been abandoned there.

Feitan wondered how she’d react to knowing him, Chrollo, and Uvogin hailed from the same city. Uvogin didn’t mention it, so decided to keep quiet on the information as well.

Dinner was more peaceful than usual, Feitan gladly taking dessert this time. (Name) and Uvogin chatted as she fed him his dessert, the air relaxed.

(Name) actually ate with the two this time, laughing at Uvogin’s jokes and poking Feitan’s cheek when he groaned at her puns. He only narrowed his eyes and frowned, when before he would have lashed out with his teeth or words.

She was the first to head to bed, her eyes sleepy. Feitan watched her leave, knowing that Uvogin would want to speak alone.

“So she’s from Meteor City. Ain’t that crazy?”

The large man tossed another pastry into his mouth, his eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“Isn’t unusual for kids to be taken. Must of wandered from residential area.” Feitan stated, staring at her closed door. There was still some residual anger that bubbled in his stomach. What had happened to her, and who had left that mark on her soft skin?

“I got a picture of the mark. When I get into town I’ll send it to the boss. He’ll want to make sure the organization isn’t still active and hunting in that old dump.”

Feitan nodded. He couldn’t stop thinking about her sad expression. Was she telling the complete truth when she said she didn’t remember anything? He wouldn’t press on that, Feitan knew better than most that some memories were better left buried in the dirt.

“He might want to meet her. Pakunoda could be able to see into her memories and get more details about the people that took her.” Uvogin cleared his throat.

“Maybe. This girl more useful than first thought.”

Uvogin shook his head. “Oh stop beating around the bush. You’re interested in that girl aren’t you?”

Feitan paused, his expression unreadable. “Interested? In what way?”

Uvogin groaned, his chair squeaking loudly as he leaned back. “You like her. It’s so obvious that it’s annoying. Every time I flirt with her you look at me like you’ll actually kill me.”

Feitan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t feel that way.”

The larger man rolled his eyes, pushing back his long hair. “Whatever you say, man. Just try to be nicer to her, huh? Seems like she wants to be your friend.”

The black haired man looked up at that, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “Friends? Why?”

Uvogin shrugged. “Dunno, if we hadn’t been friends for years I wouldn’t be able to stand your cranky ass.”

Feitan glanced back at her door, his heart beating faster. He hadn’t made a new friend in years. Sure he met new spiders and wasn’t hostile towards them, but he wouldn’t call them friends.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow. My job here is done.”

Feitan raised an eyebrow at this. “Your job?”

Uvogin pressed a finger to his lips. “That’s a secret, Fei. I’m going to bed.”

Feitan rolled his eyes and left, closing his bedroom door behind him. As he slipped under his covers, he wondered if (Name) would really ever consider him a friend…

Or maybe even something more.

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canonicallyobserving911 · 1 month ago

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WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

FANON FanFic: Buddie Multi-Chapter - “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 33 will be posted soon!

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Currently 32 chapters completed: 1.485M Words; Rated: Mature

#1 {Previous snippet}

__________

I'm excited to finish writing Chapter 33 because at the end of Chapter 32, Buck and Eddie got the call from Angelo, the real estate agent in San Gimignano, Italy regarding the house they bid on back in December and they were informed the builder accepted it. Later that evening, they told their found family at the 118 about it and they had a lot of questions including if they were going to immediately relocate to Italy.

Eddie explained they wouldn't do it right away but he included a caveat that if Buck or Chris say they're ready to go, they would pack up and leave, no questions asked. They still haven't told the Diazes yet and they haven't told Margaret and Phillip either. Will they tell them in the next chapter? Also, in Chapter 31, Buck and Bobby agreed to have a conversation at a later date regarding Buck's meeting with Captain Mehta and the job offer he got from Captain Clarke at the 115. Will they have that meeting in Chapter 33? 👀

__________

Here’s a snippet from Chapter 33 of a conversation Buck and Eddie are having with Lindsey Brown, the executive producer of "All About Pasta", Emeril and the show's production team.

__________

Buck moves his hand underneath the conference room table and he takes Eddie’s hand in his. He laces their fingers together and Eddie gives him a gentle squeeze to remind him that he’s right beside him.

Emeril’s response settles something deep inside of him because it’s one of the things he was nervous about. He doesn’t want to consider the job if he’ll be tossed out like a loaf of stale bread in a few years. Also, he’s been thinking about Chris and how they cook together a lot, therefore he has questions about the episodes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Emeril replies.

“Lindsey, I do have another question but uh… I’m not sure if I should direct it to you or someone on the production team.”

“Please proceed with your question and whomever is responsible for it will respond.”

“Ok. Uh… we have a son, his name is Chris and he’s my sous chef.”

Emeril smiles big and so does everyone else in the room.

“So… my question is would it be possible for him to join me on the show sometimes? I—I’m asking because I’m teaching him how to make all my recipes, he knows the secret ingredients and we cook together all the time. Last night, we made Ritz crackers crispy chicken and we’ve prepared several pasta dishes including one we made when we went to Italy in December.”

Lindsey looks at the producer and the assistant producer and after they have a quick silent conversation, she responds, “I’ll answer your question. The great news about this being your show is you’ll have 100% creative control. That means you get to decide the different types of pasta recipes you want to create along with the guest appearances you’ll have on the show. You can even have an episode solely dedicated to you and your family and if you want to feature any recipes with your son, you can. Also, if you want him to do an episode all on his own, he can.”

Buck nods, then he looks at Eddie who’s already looking at him. They smile at each other, then Buck asks, “Eddie, will you cook with me and Chris?”

“Of course, I will. You don’t even have to ask.”

They all laugh and after they finish, Lindsey continues. “Buck, “All About Pasta” is your show and you get to decide how each episode is laid out including the recipes you want to prepare along with the schedule and everything else. The 10 people on your team are all in here and they have specific responsibilities but they all have to coincide with the things you want on your show.”

“Thank you. I—I appreciate that but I have another question. Who’s responsible for making sure the ingredients I’ll need to cook with will be on set?”

“Buck, that would be me. I’m Phil and part of my responsibilities as Art Director is to order the food, seasonings, utensils and whatever else you’ll need to prepare your meals. The set will be designed however you like and we’ll spend time during the planning stage organizing everything the way you want it.”

He nods and exhales because that’s another important point for him. He likes an organized kitchen and he wants to have some say so in how it’s designed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Phil replies.

Buck takes a second to contemplate his next question and once he’s ready, he says, “The letter indicated that I would have a marketing team to assist me with completing a cookbook and possibly starting a cookware line. I’m interested in all of those things so… um, how does that work?”

“I’ll answer this because it falls underneath my purview as the executive producer. All of our chefs are marketed in the best way possible and the first thing we would do is have a brainstorming session with the marketing and advertising teams to come up with a catch phrase that will be used during your shows. For example, Emeril says, “BAM!” so whichever word or phrase you decide on, our licensing team will make sure it’s not already in use. Also, you’ll get to choose your own stage name.”

“My stage name?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

“Yes. For example, Guy Fieri’s last name used to be spelled “Ferry” until he changed it to match the original spelling of his family’s name.”

“Hmmm.” He responds, then he looks at Eddie and asks, “What uh, do you think I should call myself?”

Without hesitation, he replies, “Buck Diaz.”

He nods and as he looks around the room, he notices everyone else is nodding in agreement.

After a few moments, Lindsey responds, “Buck Diaz it is and now that we have your stage name, there are all sorts of other things we’ll be able to market for you under that name.”

Is the Food Network production team giving Buck what he wants? 😉

Will Buck accept the job to be the new host of the TV show "All About Pasta"?😁

Since Chris is his sous chef, how many episodes will he be featured in? 🙃

Will Bobby contact Buck before it's too late? 😎

__________

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it. But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago. They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial. But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories. Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie. It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Buck and Eddie are once again faced with their greatest fear of losing each other but this time it could be permanent and if it is, then they won’t be able to spend the rest of their lives together.

Chapter 27 - After Buck resumes therapy, he’ll continue to face the fact that he “DIED” in March 2023 and during those sessions, he’ll learn about the 7 stages of grief. As he continues his healing journey, Eddie will be right by his side just like he promised and the Diaz family will start to deal with their three minutes and seventeen seconds loss as a family.

Chapter 28 - Two years ago, Eddie was asked, “What are you afraid of?”; twice, once by Frank and once by Buck but he only answered one of them without deflecting. Since that time, he’s been to therapy and him and Buck got married but the question resurfaces when Frank asks Buck the same question and Buck asks it of Eddie for the second time. However, when Buck asks, his reasoning will be about something else entirely.

Chapter 29 - After Buck and Eddie have an emotionally intimate conversation regarding their dreams, they make several decisions that will affect their future. When everything falls into place, they’ll realize one of those decisions will result in them no longer being work partners.

Chapter 30 - In 2018, Buck and Eddie met at the 118 and after some initial apprehensions on Buck’s part, they became work partners and they agreed to have each other’s backs. It’s been more than 6 ½ years, a lot’s happened, they got married in December 2023 and they have the family they both chose. With Eddie leaving the 118 in 3 months and Buck getting closer to moving past his grief, what will him losing his work partner mean for him?

Chapter 31 - As Buck’s life hangs in the balance from what’s suspected to be another bradycardia event, Eddie’s by his bedside, their son is being cared for by relatives and their found family is in the waiting room. During this time, many questions will surface that could possibly lead to the truth but will everything be revealed before it’s too late?

Chapter 32 - On January 2, 2024, the figurative skies over the Diaz family became gray and filled with storm clouds. Buck’s recent trauma, Chris’ school project and Eddie’s paramedic studies combined with the attack on Buck’s life, all those things contributed to the grief they’ve been experiencing. However, as the middle of February approaches, will the dark clouds dissipate so blue skies can return?

Chapter 33 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-32 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

Chapter 33 will be posted soon.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #The Diaz Family #buddie fanfic #ao3 fanfic #911 fanfic #Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #WIP Wednesday #buddie wip #“I'm still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”#Chapter 33 will be posted soon.

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kristinamae093 · 8 months ago

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Ghosted

Ghosted - Altering Visions (Chapter Eleven)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

A/N 2 - It's been a while 🥲. Here's hoping it doesn't take me another six months to post the next chapter 😬🫡.

PSA it's a long one. Whoops, lol.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam fluttered his eyes open a short time later and squinted them against the harsh, blinding light blocking his view. When he took a deep breath, a distinct, stale aroma invaded his senses; it sparked some kind of recognition even before he could fully view his surroundings. He slowly sat up with a groan and blinked until his vision centered. He glanced around and noticed the outdated wood panels, along with the oval shape of the sconces. There was only one estate in all of Cordonia with those outdated features, and he noted that fact immediately.

Panic flourished through his body as Liam realized he awoke in Applewood.

He frantically stood with labored breaths and patted his abdomen, almost to ensure he was real. He pinched his thigh and winced, afterward placing a trembling hand on the wall to steady himself. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend what transpired and how he’d gotten there to begin with.

The events of the night suddenly invaded his thoughts. The image of a lifeless Penelope in Landon’s arms engraved and forever etched itself into his memory; he felt guilty, enraged, defeated, and a slew of other emotions.

Penelope was the big break they’d hunted high and low for. She held vital information Liam desperately needed, but seemingly would take her secrets to the grave with her. He couldn’t understand any of it — nothing made sense. The list of unanswered questions swirling around was enough to make him nauseous. A carousel of sorrow and confusion he couldn’t seem to slow down — no matter how hard he tried.

Amid his tilt-a-whirl moment, an angelic voice rang out not far away, drawing him back to the present. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Liam’s thundering heart suddenly stopped as recognition swept over him. He’d been so entrapped in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed what portion of the estate he was in.

Only a few inches away was a door he remembered all too well — Riley’s. His eyes welled with tears as his vision centered on the structure, but as much as Liam wanted to rush to her, he physically couldn’t. The receptors in his brain went crazy — a jolt of electricity shot to his legs, demanding he move, but his feet weighed hundreds of pounds. Dazed and confused, he could only gawk at the blockade separating them.

“Lady Riley, we have much to discuss — have a seat,” another individual answered. Liam knew it was a male but couldn’t place his identity; although it sounded familiar, as if he could remember it from a vague, distant memory.

“Tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here!” Liam’s blood ran cold at Riley’s tone; the fear and adrenaline were prominent in her shaky voice. His breaths quickened and his instincts screamed to rush to her, but again, his feet refused to cooperate.

“That wasn’t a request — I told you to have a seat.” Again, Liam swore he could recall that voice, but couldn’t fully register it. He thought about it for a split second until the sounds of a loud screech and a shatter echoed behind the door.

“Don’t touch me!” Riley hollered, instantly breaking Liam’s trance. He lunged for the doorknob, but when he twisted his wrist, it snapped and turned to dust in his palm. The disintegrated fragments floated to the floor in slow motion, his heart following suit.

“You’re so beautiful when you squirm.” Liam gasped as he fully recognized that person — it was Tariq. “But if you don’t fucking stand still–”

“Riley! RILEY!” Liam forcefully pounded on the structure. “Open this door! Open it, goddamnit!” He bellowed, but the commotion inside continued, escalating by the second. The next instant, he sprinted down the hall, frantically hunting for somebody — anybody — to get him inside that room. “I need some help!” He hauled over to the other side and yelled once more, but faced only cold, deserted silence.

His vision darted all around the area before he spotted a window at the end of the seemingly never-ending hallway. Liam sprinted to it and gazed at the scene below. Outside, he could see the country jamboree still in full swing. He scoured the crowd and spotted everyone except Riley; Drake, Hana, Madeleine, and upon further inspection, he saw himself at the head table beside his father. He stumbled backward with a strangled breath, truly dumbfounded by what was going on.

As Liam recovered, he re-approached the window and banged on it. “Hey! Hey!” He wailed, but nobody below batted an eye. His hits came harder and harder, but the glass never even cracked; his hand took the damage, although he felt no pain.

The only thing he heard was Riley’s pleas for help, the sounds making his desperation grow by the second. He rushed back to the door and ran full force at it, using his shoulder as a battering ram; it wouldn’t budge. He repeated the process — again and again — but never even split the wood. Liam let out a primal wail and fisted his hair, taking deep breaths to preserve any semblance of sanity. His pulse thundered in his ears and tears stung the corners of his eyes, while he frantically determined what to do.

He took a step back and realized there was a shadow cast over the doorway. It appeared to be a man, standing with his arms crossed. He wasn’t sure if it was there before, but Liam waved his hand and nothing changed the stony silhouette. The fixture remained cemented in place, not flinching or moving a muscle, regardless of the commotion developing beyond.

“LIAM!” Riley suddenly screamed, ripping him from his trance. He was up against the structure in an instant, using every ounce of strength he had to force his way through, but his attempts were futile. Riley repeatedly called for him and every time, a dagger went straight through Liam’s already hollowed-out chest.

He couldn’t control his overflowing tears at hearing her cry out for him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get inside; they wouldn’t acknowledge him, nobody came to help, and there was nothing he could do except sit and listen. With a loud sob, he slid down the door and sat in front of it, hoping at some point it would open and he could get to her.

Riley’s whimpers continued throughout the vicinity, but Liam’s skin turned ice cold as he heard laughter inside; not Riley’s, and certainly not cheerful. The vile sound caused all the color to drain from his face. He leaned his head against the door and completely broke down, letting the devastation and defeat wash over him.

“I — I’m sorry Riley…” He swallowed thickly, but soon let out an anguished cry. “I’m so sorry…”

The room went eerily quiet for a long while; Liam couldn’t hear much except the sound of his heart shattering, but eventually, the voices began once more. With a shuddered breath, he held his ear up to listen.

“When will I receive payment?” Tariq questioned.

“You don’t need to worry about that. Where you’re going, you won’t need it.”

“W–what do you mean?! I did what I was called to do!” Tariq’s panic was clear to Liam, even without seeing his face. His pulse somehow thundered faster, carefully processing every word.

“There is too much at stake — more than your simple mind could ever understand. For this to work, you need to disappear. You’re a weak, pathetic excuse of a man — we can not risk this entire operation being ousted because of a lousy nuisance.”

“I swear to it — you have my allegiance and my silence.” Tariq pleaded. “I will disappear, and—”

“You’re going to, alright — the both of you.”

What little color remaining in Liam’s complexion drained, and the shakiness in his hands amplified. After a split-second of complete and utter stillness, the phrase resonated and ignited a deadly determination within.

Liam sprung up and kicked the door with all his might. “LET ME IN!” He repeated the process, but again, the barrier showed no signs of weakening. He threw his fists at the structure in a mad frenzy — anything to get inside and get to Riley, then deal with this — man.

“Liam! Liam! LIAM!” Leo yelled. He repetitively jabbed the button next to Liam's head to summon the nurse, as his brother flailed in his hospital bed.

Liam was being monitored for dehydration, severe exhaustion, and a touch of malnutrition. Doctors said he had a panic attack, which combined with everything else, made him lose consciousness. All his labs came back normal, thankfully; Leo was worried someone could have slipped Liam something, but the hospital was quick to put that suspicion to rest.

Since Liam arrived, he had been resting comfortably, but that changed about twenty minutes ago; it started with small groans and subtle movements, but soon turned into blood-curdling cries and forceful thrashes. Leo hoped he would wake himself, but Liam was getting drastically worse with every passing second.

Liam suddenly flew forward with a loud gasp. His tearful eyes darted all around the room while he grabbed at his gown-covered body. As the world centered, a tidal wave of frustration and confusion washed over him.

When Liam stopped and stared down at his clasped hands, Leo cautiously re-approached the bed. “Liam?” When he didn’t answer, Leo spoke a little louder. “... Li?”

“I was there.” Liam weakly croaked, his vision locked on his lap.

Leo’s brows furrowed. “Where?”

“I heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“Riley…” Liam whispered, followed by a shuddered breath.

“What about her?”

“I was there… th–that night… just n–now—” Liam stammered, struggling to make sense of the situation. “I couldn’t get in…”

Leo’s heart instantly shattered at seeing the devastation in Liam’s features. “They gave you some medication, Li.” He reasoned. “It’s possible that—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam bellowed. The nurse appeared next to him and attempted to speak, but he shouted, “GET OUT!”

Leo lifted his hands in surrender. “I believe you, Liam… Tell me what happened.”

“She yelled for me…” Liam faintly answered, refusing to make eye contact. “She yelled and screamed and — I couldn’t get inside, Leo... I tried, but — I — I… I couldn’t save her…”

Leo took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and responded in a calm, reassuring voice. “Liam, it’s been a long couple of days and I know this has been incredibly rough on you–”

“STOP PATRONIZING ME! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!”

Leo remained reluctant to entertain this idea. He knew Liam was dreaming, but at that moment, he was completely irrational. Leo had never seen him in such a way, even when his mother died. Given the past couple of weeks, the events of that night, and the medication, there was no rationalizing with him — Liam was spiraling, and bad. But perhaps if he entertained the notion — for now — Liam would eventually calm down.

Leo carefully spoke. “What did you hear?”

Liam stayed silent for a long moment before he turned his head to meet eyes with Leo. The look on Liam’s face slightly took him aback; the determination in his features was deadly — his sunken, puffy eyes were nearly black.

Liam let out a long, sharp huff of air and sternly explained, “There were two male voices. I can say with confidence one was Tariq, but as far as the other, I — I don’t know…” He shook his head with furrowed brows as he racked every recollection in his brain. He could almost visualize the man in question, but his face appeared blurred and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clear the fog.

“Alright, well, let’s just take a minute to—”

“They were fucking laughing, Leo. They assaulted her and laughed about it.” Liam growled, his chest rising and falling with every sullen breath. “I want Tariq found, now. He’s going to pay for ever laying a fucking finger on her. I swear to God, Leo — I will put an end to his sorry existence with my bare hands.” He clenched his palms, squeezing hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Leo once again held his hands up in surrender and replied in a soft voice. “I believe you. Just — take a couple of deep breaths and try to relax—”

“What if she didn’t leave Cordonia?” Liam suddenly blurted out. “What if she’s…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly. No part of him wanted to finish that statement in any fashion; the unending possibilities gave him instant nausea. “That man… he said, ‘where you’re going you won’t need it’, and then h–he said both of you... BOTH OF YOU, Leo!” He ran his palms over his head from front to back, repeating the process with a crazed look in his eye.

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Liam swiftly continued. “It would make sense… Tariq has been untraceable… But–but Riley…. She — Bastien told me she went back to New York. But that person… I know I heard him say it… Where you’re going you won’t need it, where you’re going you won’t need it—” He repeated to himself, his voice diminishing with every anguished syllable. He clutched his hands into fists and forcefully yanked at his hair, rocking himself back and forth.

“Li,” Leo cautiously started. When Liam whipped his head to look at him, Leo was once more temporarily shocked by the fury and turmoil staring back at him; he realized Liam was hastily elevating himself to a dangerous level. “We can’t jump to conclusions… Okay? Let’s just take a deep breath and try to calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Leo! I KNOW WHAT I HEARD!” Liam shouted as he ripped the IV from his arm, the pain not even phasing him. He ditched the rest of his connections shortly after and dashed out of bed. “Where are my CLOTHES?”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” Leo reasoned as he followed his brother’s movements. “All I’m suggesting is that we take a step back and really think about this—”

“I’m tired of taking a step back! Look where that’s gotten us!” Liam seethed. “There is so much goddamn blood on my hands! I let her get hurt! I am responsible for all of this madness—”

“Stop that — right now,” Leo sternly returned. “You know that is not true even in the slightest.”

“Say it to MY FACE then, Leo!” Liam barked as he invaded his brother’s personal space. “LIE to my fucking face!”

“It’s not a lie, Liam,” Leo stood a little taller. “You are not responsible–” He stopped as Liam rolled his eyes and looked away. This time, it was Leo who stepped up to Liam. “No — look at me,” He bore his eyes into his brother, forcing him to see the truth in his gaze. “You are not responsible for any of this, Liam. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

Liam studied the conviction staring back at him and his frustration soared. He spun away and grabbed the bedside table, sending it flying with a primal roar.

Leo flinched as the wood shattered against the wall, but knew he had to calm Liam down. However, the person he was trying to reason with was not the version of Liam he was used to; this was a side Leo didn’t know lay dormant in his normally calm and stoic baby brother.

“Liam,” Leo softly started. “This is an incredibly shitty situation, and I’m so sorry that you’re being put through this. I love you, and I’m always here for you no matter what.” He confidently stated, but after a moment of silence, hesitantly added, “But I just don’t think a dream is—”

“I don’t give a damn what you say, Leo! Someone is going to pay for this!” Liam growled, his face reddening with every deep, labored breath. He directed his attention back to his earlier quest for his clothes; he didn’t know where he was going or who he was looking for, but someone was going to feel the wrath of the King of Cordonia — tonight.

Olivia didn’t even bother to knock before she and Ray joined the room. The pair opted to stay behind and investigate in Portavira a little further — that is until a random guard threw them out. Without Liam or Leo there to ensure their access, they were told to vacate the premises shortly after Liam left for the hospital. Regardless, they had enough time to prove at least one pivotal thing about that ordeal, and possibly solve quite a few others — if Liam believed them.

They walked in and stopped short at Liam’s crazed expression. “What’s going on?” Olivia sought.

“I’m leaving,” Liam bit out through clenched teeth.

“Hold on, we need to talk about something—”

“Move out of my way!”

Olivia arched her brow. “We need transparency, Liam. Tell me what is going on — calmly.”

“I was there, Olivia! I heard it! They fucking attacked her!” Liam bellowed as he found his garments and rifled through the bag.

Olivia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop his mad dash. “Liam, please — I need a full explanation. I’m not stopping you or downplaying anything, but we need to know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Liam met her eyesight and saw the genuine interest in her gaze. He could tell Leo thought he was baffling, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t fathom the experience, but knew that was no dream; with every fiber of his being, Liam believed what he heard was reality. The universe mercilessly gifted him a blocked front-row seat — it was a curse, yet oddly a blessing. They spent all this time wondering what happened that night, but now he had a soundtrack to re-play. He wasn’t willing to rest until he deciphered this code, to ensure justice would be swift to all who deserved it.

He explained in great detail his occurrence and exactly what happened. When he finished, he stared blankly at the floor, cradling his head in his trembling hands; he knew how wild it sounded but didn’t particularly care. It felt so real — so raw. Just thinking about the vile chortles raised goosebumps on his arms, and Riley’s screams now played on an insistent loop in his mind — torment that would never stop. Even if good trumped evil and Riley was located safely in the end, those sounds would be a continuous source of torture until he took his final breath.

Olivia listened intently to everything he recalled. At the surface, she knew how preposterous it sounded — it was a dream, regardless of how strongly Liam felt otherwise. Her heart ached for her friend at that moment; clearly, everything that happened was taking a major toll on her childhood friend.

But — given the bombshell she and Ray sat upon, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if there could be some truth to Liam’s encounter.

Olivia sat forward and patted Liam’s leg with the gentlest of touches. When she spoke, it was calm and reassuring. “I’m not sure what to say, Liam. I realize you want to believe it to be true, but you and I both know it’s nothing concrete…” Liam opened his mouth to respond, but Olivia held her hand up to stop him, as she saw the fire burning behind his narrowed eyes. “Let me finish… I know tonight has been hard on you for a lot of reasons, but I believe Ray and I have found a very promising lead…”

Liam’s ears visibly rose as his interest grew. “What do you mean?”

“Sir, I know it’s not what you initially hired me for, but there are a lot of things that do not add up in this current situation...” Ray started. “Between some of Lady Penelope’s behaviors, her father’s statements, and this—” He produced his phone from his pocket and handed it to Liam. “I find it very hard to believe she took her own life.”

Liam glanced at the device in his hands and realized he was looking at a photo of Penelope’s last statements. He read through it and found nothing of relevance; no mention of Riley, her involvement in the scandal, the maid, nothing. It was incredibly vague, considering it was her concluding words to the world.

“Why are you showing me this?” Liam demanded as confusion and annoyance rushed through him.

Olivia produced a document from her pocket. After questioning the legitimacy of the note left in Riley’s room, she wanted to have it near in case the situation arose. “You remember my blackmail letter — the one I got the night of your coronation?” She handed him the paper.

Liam held both items and scanned back and forth; he gasped when he realized they were nearly identical. “But, this — this means—”

“Someone took her out, Liam.” Olivia finished.

“I’m not positive if someone would have done it for her, or if she felt pressured into doing it. Either way, since she was saying goodbyes to her family, that leads me to believe Penelope knew she was in danger and foresaw her demise.” Ray added.

“This is impossible!” Liam shook his head, his rage returning full force. “How does this keep happening?!”

Olivia and Ray shared a look; the two calculated a theory, and it seemed the more that unfolded, the greater that assumption solidified itself. There wasn’t a lot of evidence to point fingers, but Olivia realized they couldn’t wait any longer; if they were correct, this situation just escalated tenfold. Liam already teetered an incredibly dangerous ledge, but perhaps that’s what the circumstances called for. Plus, after his — experience, she knew he would believe them.

Olivia softly started. “I need you to stay as calm as possible — at least until I’m finished and we know for certain who we’re directing this hostility at.” Liam nodded with furrowed brows, but Leo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what to say about your — encounter, but — there is reason for us to believe Riley could be in Cordonia.”

“WHAT?!” Liam practically choked as all the color drained from his face. Even though he was there and truly believed what he heard, someone else saying it out loud momentarily knocked the wind out of him.

“I checked all outgoing flights from the night of the jamboree and she wasn’t on any of them,” Ray explained. “Every log received a thorough examination, even those with different destinations — she has yet to board a plane to exit the country, to this day. I’ve looked at other modes of transportation and she is the same as Tariq — there is nothing.”

“But…” Leo hesitantly started after a moment of tense silence. “If that’s the case, then where is she?”

Olivia sighed and her eyes softened. “We’re — not entirely sure at this point… Somewhere in Cordonia, but…”

“Believe me when I say I am checking everywhere.” Ray confidently inserted. “Every crack, every crevice — any place I can think of. If she truly is in the country, I will locate her.”

“Okay, but — why haven’t we found her?” Leo returned. The uneasiness in his stomach suddenly bolted to the back of his throat, securing itself and taking root. As he took in Ray’s uncertainty, the lump multiplied in size.

“I — I don’t have an answer for that right now,” Ray calmly returned. “But I’m working around the clock and using every resource I have to uncover her location. I know those sound like empty promises, but I assure you — I will not rest until Lady Riley is located safely.” He emphasized.

Liam’s heart pounded so fast, he was sure it would give out at any moment. “I — She — B–but —” He stammered, trying his hardest to comprehend the conversation. “Bastien told me—”

“I think Bastien is involved.” Olivia abruptly cut him off. “When we found Riley’s stuff, I swear to you, Liam, I saw the fucking guilt in his eyes. Plus, he’s got his hands in everything at court. I’m not saying he’s as powerful as you, but he can twist and manipulate things like no other because of his position.”

Olivia continued. “To be honest with you, I don’t think any of us really believe Penelope killed that maid. During the social season, I saw her cry over a fucking crab bite — you can’t tell me she murdered someone in cold blood. Also, I’m thinking, based on his actions tonight, Bastien knew Penelope was already dead — I’m nearly certain of it.”

“Not to mention, he kept this information to himself until we were ready to question her,” Ray added. “I know for certain those reports take only a few days — most likely less if it’s a priority case. I haven’t seen the photos from your first crime scene, but I can tell it was a setup from Olivia’s descriptions. As the head guard, it would’ve been easy for him to manipulate the situation.”

“Are you sure, though?” Leo interjected. “I mean, I’ve dealt with Bastien a lot over the years, and I can say he is not a genius. Maybe the opposite — butter knives are sharper than he is.”

“He’s capable, though — that’s what troubles me. I think most of the time he gives off the impression he’s useless, but he’s highly trained in a sum of areas.” Olivia explained. “I sincerely doubt he’s the mastermind behind everything, but I’m confident he’s the reason we keep being set back. Who’s always around? Who’s the one directing these ‘investigations’? It’s him.“

“I — damn…” Leo ran a hand through his hair with wide eyes. “You’re not wrong, and it does kind of make sense…”

Everyone suddenly recognized Liam remained mute as they spoke. His face showed no emotions; he only stared at Olivia as if she wasn’t even there with an unreadable expression. Liam was a world away as various open ends snapped themselves into place. The murky waters of uncertainty clarified, and the bottom of the cesspool became sharper with every jumbled thought dashing through his mind.

All security decisions went through Bastien, including unauthorized entry into an estate. Bastien was the one investigating the maid’s death, and he was accountable for the search for Riley and Tariq — until Ray came along. Bastien didn’t want to let Ray into Penelope’s room because he knew what was in there, and realized Ray would see right through it; past the stuff even Olivia would have missed. He could outsmart her, but knew he couldn’t Ray, which ultimately meant Bastien knew of Ray’s true purpose. He continuously told Liam he was working to provide answers, but suddenly, he believed Bastien’s intentions to be the exact opposite.

This whole time, a mole sat right under his nose, continuously feeding them the vaguest of answers. Every time they took a step forward, it was never because of Bastien, but someone always ensured they took two back. He didn’t understand how whoever held the cards seemed to be a move ahead, but now — it made sense.

Liam thought back to all these instances and realized he didn’t remember seeing Bastien. The night of the country jamboree, a different person escorted him to his room at the end of the night. He never questioned it because it wasn’t unheard of for guards to switch out positions, but now he wondered where Bastien truly was.

The night of the Apple Banquet, he recalled seeing him at the start of it, but not again until Bastien barged in to inform him of the discovery. Now, he couldn’t help but speculate Bastien took the maid’s life himself, or at least staged the scene to frame Penelope.

Tonight, before Bastien came to Liam and gave him the news of their suspect, he was nowhere to be found; until Olivia, Ray, and Leo left to interrogate Penelope.

When Bastien told Liam their person of interest was Penelope, he was in a state of disbelief. Liam questioned him, but Bastien stood his ground. However, now he believed with everything in him, Bastien knew she was already dead and intended to manipulate the circumstances further.

Since he opened his eyes to the truth, he often felt as if he mindlessly ran in a circle, desperately trying to piece small portions of a scattered puzzle together. Now he realized he was — and Bastien directed the never-ending laps, all while dangling tiny slivers of hope in front of Liam’s face — taunting him.

Ultimately, Liam concluded without a shadow of uncertainty — Bastien knew what happened to Riley, and likely held knowledge regarding her location.

Liam suddenly shot up from the edge of his hospital bed. “BASTIEN!” He bellowed at an ear-piercing volume, loud enough to rattle the windows.

Leo winced. “H–he’s not here, Li.”

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s not here?!”

“There’s some other guy outside!”

“He was still lingering around Penelope’s room when Ray and I left.” Olivia chimed in.

“That’s it — I’m going to find him,” Liam growled through clenched jaws.

“Liam, wait—”

“NO MORE WAITING, OLIVIA! Do you see what is happening?! All the blood that’s being shed?! This has to stop!”

“I know and I agree. But we need some kind of strategy–”

“No — this ends now.” Liam bit out. He hastily made his way to the bathroom with his bag of clothes, slamming the door shut behind him.

Olivia had half a mind to stop Liam until they had some kind of plan, but also felt time was of the essence. If they couldn’t prove Riley left the country, their urgency had to intensify. Her location remained unknown, but they believed she was at least in New York. When Ray first mentioned the possibility that she never left the country, Olivia didn’t want to believe it; after Penelope’s untimely demise, she realized this was a vicious, bloody pattern, and the suspicion needed to be taken seriously.

As the body count rose, Olivia’s concerns steadily increased. If history repeated itself, everyone involved would meet a deadly fate, but they didn’t have a detailed log of all entangled in this web. They had no clue where Riley’s name lay on the list of potential victims, and now they held very little information regarding her whereabouts. An involuntary shudder traveled down Olivia’s spine as the air in the room shifted, filling with an amplified haze of grim uncertainty felt heavily by everyone.

Olivia wholeheartedly believed Riley was alive, but for how much longer she couldn’t determine. The lingering feelings of uneasiness in her gut told her they were correct — she never left Cordonia — and if that was the case, her safety was more in question now than ever before.

Within the hour, Liam left the hospital and was on his way back to the main estate in Portavira. Although doctors wished to keep him longer, he left AMA — he didn’t need fluids; he didn’t need rest; he needed Riley. If Bastien knew something, he was going to tell them, even if he had to use brute force.

A part of him didn’t want to believe it, but the more he pondered, the more sense it made. A small portion of his heart wanted to give Bastien the benefit of the doubt, but that was no longer an option. The betrayal Liam felt was like no other and quickly created a raging storm inside of him, simply waiting to be unleashed.

Hearing Riley could still be in Cordonia, combined with his out-of-body experience, the need to locate her was higher than ever. Of course, he wondered where she ended up when he believed she went back to the States, but now even that was up in the air. The one thing holding Liam above water was knowing she was far away from the carnage, but that was no longer a valid crutch. The waves of despair rose dangerously high, threatening to overtake and drag him under in one fell swoop.

Liam tried his hardest to push the instantaneous bad thoughts away, but could feel it in his bones — Riley was in danger. From the beginning, he’d always thought something felt off, but he let his pride stand in the way of seeing the truth. Now it was impossible to ignore, as it tore away at his conscience. Guilty wasn’t even a suitable word to describe how he felt, knowing his negligence let this monstrosity escalate as it had. He turned his back on Riley when she needed him most; she screamed for him, yet he tried his damnedest to leave her in the past for so long.

However, he used all his willpower to remain in the moment and stay afloat; the only thing he cared about was Riley. Even if they found her and she wanted nothing to do with him, he simply needed to see with his own two eyes that she was safe. He didn’t want to think about why she could still be in Cordonia, but the growing ache in his chest told him it wasn’t a good reason.

The SUV pulled up to the front entrance of the estate, and Liam didn’t even wait for it to come to a complete stop. He rushed out and barged in through the front doors with fire under his feet. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept, but he was sure word traveled about not only his hospital stay but Penelope’s tragic passing. Leo, Olivia, and Ray all trailed behind as he ran at top speed.

Liam dashed up the stairs and rounded the corner, but abruptly stopped once Penelope’s room came into view. The door had yellow caution tape covering the opening, and Liam heard Bastien’s voice inside; the sound reigniting the rage burning deep within. He went to make a bee-line for the door, but a timid hand on his forearm ceased his movements.

“Y–Your Majesty,” Emmaline got out through hiccups. She retracted her hand with wide eyes and shakily bowed as he faced her. Liam’s features momentarily softened as he took in her running mascara and puffy eyes. “P–Please, Sir… I beg you to reconsider… Please — s–she wouldn’t d–do this…”

Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We were told they’ve ruled Penelope’s d–death… They w–were picking everything up but n–nobody would listen to us! That wasn’t her handwriting. She–she wouldn’t do this… None of it… She was happy — she wouldn’t—” Emmaline shook her head as more tears fell.

Liam placed a gentle hand on Emmaline’s shoulder and firmly responded, “I apologize for what you were told, but that is not the case — it will become a homicide investigation as soon as I can get someone else assigned. I promise you — I am going to figure out what happened and ensure she receives the justice she deserves.”

Emmaline swallowed a sob. “W–where did they take her body? They wouldn’t tell us. T–they came in and ripped my baby out of my arms and I don’t know where she is and—”

“Wait, who took her?”

“Your head guard said h–he had the authority to — remove her.” Emmaline squeezed her eyes closed as her tears fell harder, trying her hardest to wake herself from this nightmare.

Liam used every ounce of resolve he had not to march straight up to Bastien and securely wrap a hand around his throat. “Emmaline, I assure you — I will find her and bring her home. You have my word — I am going to figure this out.” He reiterated, but the fury coursing through his veins was at an all-time high. The amount Bastien thought he could get away with made Liam sick to his stomach, but he was determined to put a stop to it.

His answers were suffusive for Emmaline, so she bowed and made her leave. After taking a microscopic moment to gain some clarity, Liam addressed Ray. “Since I am removing Bastien, I need you to take over. And I want you to backtrack and look into Rhonda’s homicide as well. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to find anything, but I want you to double-check. I’ll ensure you have access to everything you need, and I’ll inform everyone you are now in charge here. The crown will compensate you generously for your additional time and effort.”

“Yes, sir,” Ray returned with a confident smile.

“Leo, I need you to figure out where he’s sending Penelope. I’m going to ask him, but in case he won’t tell me, I need her found before anyone messes with or blatantly destroys her body — there is no doubt in my mind that’s where she’s headed. Grab Maxwell and have him help you — I want her returned at once.”

“You got it.” Leo nodded before he swiftly vacated the area.

“I’m going to need some guards with me to do this,” Liam spoke, more so to himself than anyone else.

“Guards?” Olivia repeated.

“Yes. I won’t risk something happening to him — we will immediately detain Bastien. If he did nothing wrong, I’ll release and reinstate him, but until then, I am officially removing him from his position as head guard.” Liam answered, but regardless of what he said out loud, both of them knew Bastien was guilty; they just weren’t sure of the extent.

Olivia smirked. “Welcome to the game, King Liam. Would you like for me to assist with questioning?”

“I have a different job for you first. I need you to sneak into the security office and search through everything. If he’s working to cover up crimes or anything of that nature, he’s got to have something on him — I’m sure of it.”

“Knowing that cockeyed baboon, I’d say that’s a safe assumption.” Olivia snickered. “But I don’t know if I like the idea of you interrogating him by yourself...” She cast him an unsure glance.

“I don’t plan on it, Liv. I just need to find Drake.”

Almost as if on cue, Drake emerged from Penelope’s doorway, carefully dodging the caution tape. He glanced around and as his eyesight landed on Liam, he furrowed his brows and approached. “What’re you doing here, Li? Are you alright?”

“We have something to take care of.” Liam quickly and quietly laid out the current plan, as well as a vague description of their accusations.

“Fuck, man… I gotta admit — I had no clue why Liv and that guy had to leave, but I got to stick around.” Drake shook his head, trying to comprehend this blindsiding revelation.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say he wanted someone Liam trusted around but needed to ensure the person was completely and utterly clueless,” Olivia inserted with a crooked grin.

Drake scoffed. “First of all, fuck you. Second, you might actually be right, but — you’re still a flaming bitch.”

“Stop trying to flatter me, Walker,” Olivia retorted, afterward focusing on Liam. “Are we doing this?”

Liam let out a deep huff of air. “Yeah, we are. Let’s do this.” He responded with the utmost resolution. He squared his shoulders, craned his neck from side to side, and strode into the room with Drake close behind. Olivia took off in the other direction to do her part in Liam’s plan, moving with brisk precision to reach her destination.

As he entered, Liam got the attention of a few guards and motioned for them to follow. Bastien examined underneath Penelope’s bed, completely oblivious to the added presence in the room. He cleared his throat to gather Bastien’s attention, and Liam noticed his shoulders tense as he identified who stood before him.

Bastien slowly rose with uncertainty painted on his features. “Your Majesty? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be receiving treatment?”

Liam chortled as he stalked toward Bastien. He kept a smile plastered in place and shook his head, muttering to himself. When he made it directly in front of him, Liam lowered his voice to a low, gravely rumble; the fake grin he wore instantly replaced by a menacing scowl. “... I bet you’d like that — wouldn’t you?”

Bastien visibly and audibly swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, sir, but I—”

“Of course not.” Liam dismissively agreed. He took a couple of steps back and shrugged. “Regardless, you’re coming with us.”

Panic flashed in Bastien’s eyes; it was brief, but Liam caught it. “With all due respect, I’m not quite finished investigating Lady Penelope’s suic—”

“That is not what this is, and you damn well know it!” Liam abruptly shouted. A tense silence hung for only a moment until he cleared his throat and flatly added, “This is a homicide, and you are no longer a part of it.” He met eyes with one guard who got the silent order loud and clear, the other following suit. They rushed Bastien and captured his arms behind his back, securely holding him in place.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bastien hollered as he attempted to evade their grip.

“You’re being taken into custody.”

“Whatever for?!” Bastien demanded.

Drake stood in Bastien’s line of sight, mirroring Liam’s irate features. He held his gaze for a long, heated moment before snapping, “You’d better hope and pray we’re wrong, Bastien.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Drake?!” Bastien yelled, squirming against the grasp of those holding him.

Neither answered the question but merely glared at him; the sheer betrayal and outrage they felt radiated off of them, eliciting a shiver to run down Bastien’s spine. He calmly reasoned, “Sir, I don’t know what this is about, but we can have a rational conversation without all of this nonsense.” He motioned to the guards holding him.

“No, I don’t think we can, because you see —” Liam stalked toward Bastien, staring into his eyes so intently that he could almost see the wall behind him. As he made it into his comfort zone, Liam lowered his voice and rasped, “They’re only here to get rid of your body if I have to.” He smirked at Bastien’s wide eyes, as well as his complexion paling instantaneously.

Liam held Bastien’s gaze but addressed the guards. “Take him down to the cells. I’ll be right behind you.”

As they dragged Bastien away, he hollered and stirred up a fuss. Liam ignored his pleas, instead trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He wanted clarity, but a part of him dreaded Bastien’s confession; it would be another stark reminder of what his negligence caused. The guilt tearing away at his insides was at an unfathomable level, but he had to push that aside to focus on the task at hand.

He tried to keep his composure, but the gloves were off; there was no more control. Bastien knew something and regardless of what he had to do, Liam was hell bent on making him talk. Innocent lives taken and families destroyed, along with Riley’s heinous attack — all of which rested heavily on his conscience. He was determined to serve a steaming hot platter of justice to all he deemed deserving, regardless of what it took.

The next step in making that happen was getting a pig to squeal.

As he stood next to Drake, the facade of a composed monarch slipped onto the floor. He didn’t have enough strength left to keep it together. He embraced his emotions and vowed to follow their direction, but the only thing remaining was pure, unfiltered rage.

Gone was the timid, people-pleasing prince with his mother’s baby-blue eyes. Instead, a carnal lion with dark, dilated pupils awakened, centered on the dangling piece of meat in his face — Bastien.

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #king liam #trr au #liam rys #trr #choices trr #choices #ghosted #cfwc fics of the week #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #prince liam #drake walker #olivia nevrakis #leo rys #mature

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loaksky · 2 years ago

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hello! would you consider writing modern avatar stuff? if ur cool w that can i request modern human neteyam relationship headcanons?

wait hold the phone yes i would actually ! wanted to hold off on posting this to include headcanons about what modern!neteyam would be like in a relationship, but i’m so eager to come back ! instead here’s some background about him & reader leading up to the relationship (part 2 pending if you guys want it) ! headcanons under the cut & for all intents + purposes, i picture college-neteyam ! additionally, in my brain, it’s canon that teyam as a human would be poc, hence the reference pictures i included below ! <3

so i definitely see neteyam having a very soft aesthetic, he’s such a sweetheart tbh

fs think that the two of you would have a meetcute in university & then end up being college sweethearts

his major is something specific like environmental engineering or child psychology ? he’s definitely really smart and excels in all of his classes !

which brings me to how the two of you would meet ? perhaps he’s taking an elective course in pottery and your major is in art with a concentration in three dimensional composition

the class is considered a lab, so the professor emails out the syllabus and students come and go as they please during class hours to work on their compositions.

halfway thru the sem, you and teyam stumble upon each other in the storage room between two classrooms, fetching different pieces that need to be glazed + fired.

“sorry, you can—”

“nah, you first—”

you laugh and neteyam’s smiling because WOW you’re really cute + had he known that someone as lovely as you was in the same section as him, he’d probably hang around the classroom more.

from that moment on, neteyam’s always lingering during the class’ meeting time, even if he’s already finished with his projects for the week because he wants to get to know you SO bad, but he’s way too shy.

(probably still canon that he’s phenomenal at literally everything, but i think it’d be so cute if he had 0 legitimate rizz bc he’s so used to kinda just bein’ him and pulling bc he’s a jack of all trades type of guy)

“what are you making?” you ask him one day and he snatches his airpod out of his ear so quickly even though he’s not listening to anything.

“ashtray” he answers quietly, a lil self-conscious because he’s come to find out that you’re absolutely amazing at sculpting and while you do this for your future, he does it is as a pastime / elective to graduate. “but like i don’t smoke or anything yknow, i just thought that i’d be a good thing to–”

you’re staring at him with the corner of your mouth quirked and he shuts up quickly, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he slumps on his stool.

“you should score using a crosshatch,” you tell him simply. “makes the pieces stick together better.”

he looks down at where he’d been scratching the damp clay laterally and your hands hover over his, head tilting to the side.

“can i?”

oh yeah, yeah! sure,” he splutters, leaning back a little to watch you work your magic.

can’t help but watch the way your fingers work over the clay, knuckles smudged with glaze and dust coating the silver of your rings.

he watches your hands, but soon he’s watching your face because you’re concentrated so hard on making sure you’re using your best technique for the little ashtray.

lo and behold, the pieces stick together so perfectly and smoothly, ready to be fired in the kiln, and neteyam’s grateful.

“thanks,” he sighs almost dreamily.

“yeah, of course. glad to help,” you tell him.

when you return to your own project, you slam back the rest of your melting drink and neteyam’s eyes are squinting the get a read on what it is you order.

you’re pleasantly surprised when you turn up to pottery the next session to work on a new project, and neteyam’s there with two coffees, one next to his wheel, another near yours.

“what’s this?” you hum, tying your apron with a messy bow.

“a thank you,” he says shyly. “for helping me last time.”

your eyes widen when you see your favorite; a chai with almondmilk, vanilla, and a shot of espresso.

“how’d you…”

“it’s what you were drinking…” he responds. “last week. i think.

“oh…” you trail off, cheeks hot because he noticed ???

“you don’t have to—”

“NO!” you yelp, a tad loud. some of the other students working on a few last minute projects peer at the two of you and teyam’s grinning like an idiot when he sees the way you tuck your hair behind your ear and reach for the drink. “this is good! it’s great. thank you so much. i actually missed my run this morning.”

“yeah, of course,” he sighs, rolling his lips together as the two of you kinda get off to a clunky start.

the silence between the two of you is a lil awkward, but you decide to break the ice since teyam’s technically played his hand and the ball’s in your court.

“are you an art major ?” you ask.

“uh, nah,” he'd say, rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his baggy jeans because HE SHOWED UP TO CLASS 15 MINUTES EARLY and the agony of not knowing if you’d show up made him so nervous. “environmental engineering.”

your eyebrows raise ever so slightly, lips forming an ‘o’ bc wow that must mean he’s super smart.

“wow, that’s insane,” you say quietly. “what made you take pottery ?”

“only elective that didn’t make me wanna claw my eyes out,” he laughs nervously. “what about you ? what’s your major ?”

you seem to mull over your thoughts for a moment, obviously a little hesitant to answer.

“3d art...nothing special...” you trail off.

neteyam begins working with the slab of clay waiting for him in the center of the wheel, cheeks going hot because the words leave him before he can stop them.

“no, no. i think that’s really cool. art is a really challenging passion to have & i admire people willing to dive in full stop.”

the comment makes you smile, fingers pliant over the wet clay.

neteyam wants to DIE because he can’t read whether or not your smile is genuine or if you’re grimacing because he’s the biggest idiot ever.

he supposes it’s the former when you two are parting ways, signing the attendance log and you decide to bite the bullet and write your instagram handle on the bottom corner of the page and tear it off to hand to him.

he’s barely able to get a ‘thank you’ out before you’re racing out the door with your gifted coffee in hand.

you’re so giddy when you run out of the building and your phone pings in the front pocket of your satchel and you see that teyam.sully has followed you.

after that day, you two become really friendly !

neteyam frequently dms you about class, but eventually, he starts sending you vids and memes, saying that they made him think of you.

it becomes so obvious to both of your friend groups that you’re crushing on each other, but both of you are too painfully shy to say anything despite every green flag.

soon, looking forward to seeing each other during class turns into neteyam subtly asking you to hang out.

you make a comment about one of his hoodies and he mentions that he thrifted it.

“wait really??” you’re pausing your work to look at him. “i love thrifting!”

he smiles wide, word vomiting before he can stop himself.

“yeah? i know a couple of good places if you’re down.”

you say yes, DUH !

looking back at it, maybe that’s your first date because he picks you up from your dorm & bc you guys live in a fairly walkable city, you commute to the thrift and you’re SO giddy because the backs of your hands keep brushing every time some impatient pedestrian pushes by you guys on the narrow sidewalks.

you guys end up spending HOURS and teyam’s internally screaming because you find a shirt that has a peeling heart with the phrase ‘if lost return to wife’ and he happens upon the match to it a couple aisles down that says ‘i'm the wife’.

when you’re not looking, teyam buys the shirts and stuffs them in his canvas bag.

DUDE IS WHIPPED.

he wants you SO bad.

after the thrift, you guys get pizza, and after that, ice cream, and JESUS he doesn’t want the day to end because being with you is so easy.

over the course of the rest of the semester, the two of you make it a routine to hang out at least once a week and you’re always looking forward to it.

dates excursions include; trips to the museum to see recent exhibits, weekly pizza parlor dinners, study sessions at the 24 hr cafe a block from the school (in which he always walks you home after), park days where he reads books on environmental sustainability and you secretly draw portraits of him.

in these times, he learns that you want to become an art teacher, your favorite cereal is froot loops with the marshmallows, your all time show is amazing world of gumball.

almost cries laughing when he finds out that you have a secret pet turtle you hide in your dorm named franklin.

acknowledges that he’s falling, but falls even harder when the florist who owns the flower shop you two always pass hands you the prettiest little bundle of flowers and you spend the entire trek to the park, handing out individual stems to couples, children, and the elderly, telling them to have a beautiful day.

it all comes to a head near the end of the semester when he realizes that he can’t keep dancing around his feelings for you and the feelings he’s almost certain you have for him.

tells you to clear your schedule for the upcoming friday night and dresses a little nicer than usual when he picks you up.

brings you two to the planetarium in the city and, instead of watching the exhibit, he spends the entire time watching how you light up.

he knows in his gut that you could be it for him.

he’s loved getting to know you and spending so much time with you.

he’s so immersed in this feeling throughout the entire night.

probably wipes his sweaty palms over the thighs of his pants before shakily taking your hand as the diagram of the constellations shift.

can’t help but smile when your fingers squeeze his and you seem to shift closer to him as the narrator starts the presentation.

and he’s especially quiet after the exhibit, fingers still twined with yours as the two of you walk down the bustling sidewalks of the city center.

two of you probably stop by a dessert cafe and sit outside on a bench in the spring air, enjoying the buskers as you share a little cake.

you’re talking about home and how you’re excited to see your family again and he can’t help but imagine bringing you home to meet all his siblings and his parents because he knows that they’d absolutely love you and—

you’ve paused your speaking, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth and he’s SHORT CIRCUITING.

“shit, that was weird i’m so—”

his palm cups your jaw, thumb on your cheek, pad of his pinky and ring finger soft against your neck.

“can i?” he whispers.

TRIANGLE METHOD !!

he glances at one eye, gaze dropping to your lips before glancing at the other.

you already know what he’s referring to, could feel the romantic tension between the two of you since the beginning, but only become sure of it in the recent weeks.

”can you what?” you swallow.

he breathes a short laugh because the knowing smile that quirks your lips is a dead give away.

“can i kiss you?” he asks softly, absently setting your abandoned dessert somewhere behind him on the bench.

“yeah,” you’d nod, leaning into him. “please.”

before the two of you go your separate ways for summer holiday, he shows you the shirts he bought at the thrift store the first time around, but insists on keeping the shirt that says ‘i'm the wife’.

#avatar nuggets ˘³˘#neteyam x reader #neteyam headcanons #neteyam fluff #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar the movie

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