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ambswoso · 7 months ago

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could’ve been ii - leah williamson

the weddings over. you have to return to barcelona but you didn’t think you’d be seeing leah again so soon and she’s determined to get her girl back, in any capacity.

5.9k words. somehow it's longer than the first part.

leah williamson x mead!reader

“right beth, pack it in. i’m gonna miss my flight.” you laughed as you pushed out of her tight hug.

“you sure you’re gonna be ok?” beth stroked your hair, tucking the hair that had fell from your ponytail behind your ear. “it’s a two-hour flight bethy, i’m sure i’ll be fine.”

“yeah, a two hour flight by yourself to a foreign country!” beth emphasised, ever the protective big sister. “i do live there beth.”

“i know and i hate it. i miss you already.”

“i miss you too, but i really do have to go.” you once again released yourself from beth’s grasp, leaning over to give you new sister-in-law an equally big hug.

you headed over to security and waved at beth and viv one last time. “call me when you land, or i’ll send lucy to your apartment.” you heard beth call as you went, giggling to yourself.

now you just had two hours to kill, by yourself, until you were due at your gate. you may as well get back up to date with paperwork having been away for just over a week. airpods in you started powering through your work, or at least you were until a song you’d long deleted from your playlist started playing in your ears.

your song. both of yours.

leah had a habit of calling everyone ‘my girl��, particularly you when you were together because once upon a time you actually were her girl. the first time she called you it was on your first date. she picked you up, took you for a picnic on an unusually warm february day and dropped you home like the charming woman she always was. as you left leah’s car she called after you, “see you soon for the next one, my girl.” and if you weren’t already smitten from the date then that certainly sealed the deal. the next time she picked you up, ‘my girl’ was playing through her car radio and you decided there and then that it was your song. you only let leah know about it after you’d made things official, but she was fine with it.

the same song that used to fill you with love and remind you of the love of your life, now just made your heart sink. you weren’t her girl anymore and she wasn’t yours.

you gave yourself only 30 seconds to enjoy the song before you skipped to the next. your shoulders had been rid of a particularly heavy weight since yours and leahs blowout at the wedding and you didn’t really feel like having it back just yet. besides you had work to do and a flight to barcelona to catch.

other than that one slip up at the airport, you barely had time to think about leah, being thrown straight back into your work had helped distract you.

“hola chica.” you heard a voice call from outside your office, “¿cómo estás?” (how are you?)

“simplemente perfecta” (simply perfect). you told the tattooed woman who’d since made herself comfortable on your other chair.

“i think that was sarcasm” mapi observed. “tell me all about the wedding.” she leant forward resting her chin in the palms of her hands, smiling at you so innocently.

you’d become very friendly with a lot of the girls that played for barca since starting there, having lucy and kiera introduce you to them had helped. they liked finally having a physio who was similar to them, that enjoyed football, that was around their ages. as of recent and thanks to a knee injury, you had a new number one fan by the name of maría pilar león. she was in your office most days for rehab so naturally you learned a lot about each other.

“nothing to tell, maps. my sister got married, i wore a nice outfit, got drunk, had an argument with my ex-girlfriend, drank some more and flew back.” you quickly explained whilst pulling her file up on your computer, only turning to glance at her once you’d finished talking.

“perdone, repita eso.” (excuse me, repeat that.) mapi gasped. you talked in her physio sessions, a lot, but you’d never discussed you and leah deeming it not fair on her to spread her relationship history around barca femenis football team.

“wore a nice outfit, got drunk.” you smiled.

“you argued with leah? leah williamson?” mapi exclaimed.

“woah, how’d you know it was leah?”

“lucia loves to talk, everyone knows. it’s sweet you didn’t want to tell anyone though.” she smirked at you. “so why the argument?”

“well we never discussed the breakup properly so, i guess it all just came out that night instead.” you told her, glad to have someone impartial to vent to. “hop up on the bed please, mapi. i need to check your still okay to get back on the grass today.”

“and how do you feel?” she probes as she lays back. you’d both gotten very used to talking about your personal lives during mapi’s appointments. the pair of you had spent so much time together that there was no way you could end up not being friends.

“i don’t really know. there’s like a weight lifted off my shoulder because i said everything i’d been dying to say for a while, but it hasn’t like helped. i still miss it, even after getting that bit of closure.”

“was she unkind?” mapi asked.

“not at all.” you responded quickly. “i don’t think she really knew why it had ended to be honest. she seemed a bit shocked. we were both sat there crying for a while.”

“the leah williamson crying?” mapi’s head shot up from where it lay, leaning back on her elbows. “god you must have really done a number on her.”

“trust me she’s not as tough as she makes out, or she didn’t used to be anyway.” mapi took notice of how you fondly you still spoke about leah, of how you still held the memories of you and her close to your heart.

“i don’t think she’s tough at all anymore based on what keira says.” you heard mapi mumble under her breath. “what do you mean? what did keira say?” your questions came at rapid speed in mapi’s direction, the concern and worry you held for leah would probably never go away.

“i’m staying silent.” mapi held her hands up in defence as you gestured for her to sit up from the bed. “but i do think you should talk to keira for once, i can tell it’s been a little awkward between you two.”

“i mean she’s leahs best friend i don’t want to get in the middle so i just stay out of it completely.” you brushed mapi’s comment off. it wasn’t only keira you’d distanced yourself from after yours leahs split and you knew you’d lost a lot of friends in the process, probably through your own fault rather than anyone else’s. “right, you’re all clear. get your ass back out on the grass maria. i’ll come check in in a little bit.” sending her one final smile to send her off.

you thought mapi had left, thoughts of the team knowing about your previous relationship and what keira may have possibly said ran through your head as you began to wipe down the treatment table where mapi once lay.

“lo siento if i’m overstepping but i feel as if we’re good enough friends that i can say this to you.” mapi’s voice scared you from the doorway that she evidently hadn’t moved from yet. “i can see you still love her, i mean you’ve been here for over a year and you’ve not been with anyone else or even tried.”

“well i-“

“don’t even try because i already know you haven’t, mi amiga.” she sent you a knowing look as you rolled your eyes. “you should fight for it, for her, if it’s something you really want because from what you’ve said and what i’ve heard it sounds like she wants to fight for you. i don’t know what happened at home between the two of you, but it must have hurt, but you said yourself you miss the relationship and i think you miss her as well. everything you get is meant for you, y/n/n, and i know you believe that too. just ask yourself if in 5 years, you’re still going to be wishing you’d never left because i think you will.” this time maria actually left the room and with it left you with a lot to mull over.

“stupid footballers, always giving their stupid advice. idiota.” you scoffed.

“i heard that.”

you filled out the rest of mapi’s paperwork before you went out to see how she was doing back on the grass. it’s quite hard to fill in someone’s medical forms whilst simultaneously having thoughts of your ex-girlfriend spinning around your head but nevertheless you got it done and made your way outside. you were happy with what you saw from mapi, shooting her a quick thumbs up as she waved before trying to disappear back to your office as to not disturb the other girls.

“hola guapa.” (hi beautiful). alexia shouted to you from the pitch as she saw where mapi’s attention was momentarily diverted.

“te hemos echado de menos.” (we’ve missed you). salma called out as she ran to where you were and pulled you in the hug, others following along in her footsteps.

“hola chicas, i’ve missed you too.” you smiled with salmas arm still wrapped around your shoulders. “vuelve y entrena por favor.” (go back and train, please.)

“tu español es tan bueno ahora, hermosa.” (your spanish is so good now, beautiful). alexia smiled at you as she was the next to pull you into a hug. most people who you met were surprised to hear how welcoming and friendly alexia had been to you.

when you first moved to barcelona, it’s safe to say it wasn’t under the best circumstances. just coming off the back of a painful end to your relationship, you’d retreated inside yourself and in hindsight moving away from both your family and friends probably didn’t help but you knew you couldn’t stay where you were. keira and lucy were there who you of course knew through leah and beth, but the last thing you wanted to do was cause any friction for them and their national captain, so you kept to yourself and just got to work.

alexia was near the end of her acl recovery when you started your new position, immediately being put in charge of alexia’s rehab and care as you’d had more than enough acl experience working for arsenal. she was a lot sweeter than you’d imagined, her injury putting her in a vulnerable position and you were right there alongside her. you were both healing in your own ways, alexia physically and you emotionally, and your bond quickly formed through that. you didn’t just become alexia’s go to for her physical needs but also her emotional, supporting her through many ups and downs that came with her recovery, and she could never thank you enough for that. when the both of you had spare time, she’d take you around barcelona and had introduced you to her friends and family. you were right there on the side lines watching proudly as she made her comeback in the la liga match against sporting huelva and the friendship continued to blossom even after her recovery.

“training is nearly finished. no te preocupes.” (don’t worry.) the famously hardworking and driven captain brushed off the end of training, knowing how excited the girls would be to see you again even if it had only been just over a week. “cenamos esta noche?” (dinner tonight?)

“sí, suena bien.” (yeah, sounds good.). alexia had also been a big help in you learning spanish, something you’d been determined to do since arriving in barcelona and you’d come a lot further than keira put it that way.

“y/n, can i talk to you for a second?” speak of the devil, keira came over to grab you as the rest of the girls headed into the changing rooms.

“yeah, of course. everything okay?” you asked her, secretly hoping she’d be coming to talk to you about an injury rather than leah, but you had no such luck.

“i heard about the wedding.” keira starts and you let out a sigh. “i know this probably doesn’t help but she’s really torn up y/n.”

“yeah, me and her both.” you scoffed defensively. you weren’t really angry at leah anymore, so you weren’t sure why you were acting like this, especially towards keira, but after being pretty torn up yourself for nearing a year and a half you didn’t feel like hearing how it was only now affecting leah. “i’m sorry, it was just a lot that’s all.”

“she keeps asking about you. told me to keep an eye on you, check if you were doing okay.” kiera revealed, “even before this.”

“really?” eyebrows raised, you questioned keira, thinking that leah pretty much continued having the time of her life after you moved away.

“all the time. she still cares about you and you were really good together. you were good for her.”

“she was good for me too, until she wasn’t.” you recalled, a sad smile gracing your face which didn’t go unnoticed.

“and i’m sorry you lost the rest of us too. she’s not the only one that’s been missing you. i feel like we haven’t had a proper conversation in ages.” she laughed.

“yeah, probably not.” you laughed a long with her. “but that’s probably more so my fault, just didn’t want to cause any tension, you know? so i’m sorry.”

“you really don’t have anything to apologise for, y/n.” she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and lead you inside so she could get showered and changed before the hot water was no more.

“i’ve done enough crying this week, don’t make me start again.” you joked as you parted ways, you heading back to your office to get back to work for the afternoon and keira to the changing room. “oh and heads up, she’s coming to the game on saturday, bye!”

brilliant. great. fuck.

you’d expected to have a little bit more time before having to see leah again, let alone speak to her. you and her hadn’t had to come face to face for a year and a half and now you were seeing her twice inside of a month. you’d hoped you could get over your meeting by doing the same thing as last time, avoiding her, but turns out the universe had different plans this time. stupid universe.

you tried to distract yourself from the imminent encounter with leah and went to dinner with alexia, ingrid and maria, knowing that was a safe place where leah wouldn’t be bought up for a couple of hours. you always had a good time with those girls and were grateful that they’d took you under their wing even though they really didn’t have to, you weren’t even on the team.

another story post of you and alexia looking particularly friendly at dinner. leah had seen enough of these over the last year and a half but this one for some reason stung her just a bit more than the rest. she used her secret instagram account enough to realise how close you were with certain members of the barca team. she was happy that you’d settled in over there and yet she felt a pang in her heart at the fact that used to be you and her and her teammates. it still should be.

leah wasn’t sure whether you knew about her coming to the game. she wasn’t sure whether she should go at all really but she hadn’t seen keira in a while, having missed out on the last national camp due to her knee. you came first though, more so now than ever. after your intense conversation, if you can call it that, at beth’s wedding, leah realised how much she’d dropped the ball towards the end of your relationship. you weren’t coming first to her; you weren’t being prioritised and yet you still did that for her. perhaps she was a bit naïve to think that you’d simply fallen out of love with her and that you’d grown apart naturally. everyday she regretted the fact she just let you walk out the door without fighting for you. she truly didn’t realise what she had until it was gone. she used to come back to a warm home with candles lit, dinner prepared and a stupid cheesy film ready to watch. realising that the warm home she felt she had, that you made, felt the exact opposite to you elicited gut wrenching feelings for her.

had she ever stopped loving you? absolutely not. had she stopped appreciating you? yes, which she now realises had been her fatal flaw. stuck in her own head coming off the back of the euros success, dealing with fame and recognition that she didn’t realise she’d ever have. everybody wanted a piece of the england captain but she forgot to save a vital part of herself for you. this realisation had triggered something in leah, she needed you more than you’d ever know and she knew you needed her too. she’d give you everything you ever wanted, she’d pull the sun out of the sky for you if you asked and she wanted to show you, in one way or another. if you shot her down, or if she was too late then so be it but leah would be damned if she didn’t try her very hardest.

getting lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t realised she’d liked the instagram story you’d posted of yourself at dinner. thanking god, she was on her second account, until she realised she wasn’t religious and she was most definitely on her actual public verified account. you’d definitely seen it. you were out to dinner with your new friends, potentially a new girlfriend, and she’d just liked your story. your ex-girlfriend had just liked your story. maybe it would make it less weird if she followed you again and then liked your story, so she did, and it was still weird. leah felt a little like a stalker and maybe she was doing a bit of stalking, but she thought it was safe. now she was definitely nervous about seeing you on saturday.

you’d long been home from dinner, only posting about it once you’d all left the restaurant. fans could be a little bit crazy sometimes and you knew both barca and arsenal fans followed you on social media with you being both beth’s little sister and heavily featured on the girl’s accounts at one point or another. the notification came through to your phone as you were mindlessly scrolling through tiktok having tried to fall asleep and failed, your mind running rampant with thoughts of seeing leah again. as if someone had read your mind a notification came through from that exact woman. oh god, she’d liked your story. why would she like your story? why would she like your story and then follow you? maybe she was trying to make it less weird before the weekend. well, if that was her aim she hadn’t succeeded.

“pick up, pick up, pick up.” you mumbled under your breath, pacing back and forth across your bedroom. “hello?” a voice came from the other side of the line.

“hello? oh, thank god you answered.” a sigh of relief left your mouth as your best friend picked up the phone, albeit she didn’t sound very happy to be answering but, nonetheless.

“what do you want? it’s like midnight, i’m trying to sleep.”

“well if i can’t sleep neither can you. leah just refollowed me on instagram.” you practically shouted at her down the phone.

“okay, and?”

“and liked my story.” you paused and she didn’t answer, only hearing a huff down the phone so you continued, “of me and the girls out to dinner, specifically a picture of me and alexia.”

“no, i meant and as in like ‘and what’s your point?’. she followed you, you also used to sit on her face until like a year ago.” she pointed out, crudely.

“oh my god!” you grimaced, “she also stopped following me as soon as i stopped doing that so this is a big deal.”

“y/n/n, i’m not being funny but it’s really not. i mean you saw her like last weekend. she’s probably just trying to make amends.” she points out, just wanting to go back to sleep at this point and trying to make you feel better before she goes.

“but this just makes this weekend so much more awkward now. like-“

“wait hold on, the weekend? what about the weekend?” she cuts you off. you realise you may have failed to mention that you had an inevitable encounter with leah approaching, having been distracted since keira told you earlier in the day.

you sighed, “she’s coming to the quarter final. to see keira.”

“well why didn’t you lead with that?” she was definitely awake now. “you’re gonna see her. she’s gonna talk to you.”

“do you not think i know that? that’s why i’m freaking out even more.”

“no don’t freak out. it’s a good sign.” she reassured you. “she’ll probably try and speak to you and you didn’t leave things on a very good note, so the follow and the like is a good sign.”

“do you think?” you asked, biting down on your freshly manicured nails. another €40 down the drain now you’d have to get them done again.

recalling the wedding your best friend tells you, “i know it’s a good sign. you didn’t see her after you argued at the wedding. you might’ve been crying in the bathroom, but she was in bits too. when i saw her, she was practicall shaking y/n, like really upset. i mean she made sure i knew where you were and went to you so it’s obvious, she still cares about you.”

“keira said the same thing.” you smiled to yourself.

“so, stop panicking. try and get some sleep, okay?” she tells you and you nod, forgetting she can’t actually see you, so you hum in response instead. “right, i have to go because i have a normal job that starts at 8am. not all of us can be a doctor to the stars.”

“i’m a physiotherapist.” you corrected her.

“you say tomato, i say tomato. goodnight, love you.”

“love you too.”

trying not to think about it, the next few days passed like a blur, filled with twinges of knees and possible injuries to which thankfully none were serious. with little anticipation, gameday rolled around. were you for sure going to see leah? no. was it a strong possibility? yes, especially with keira’s meddling.

having a lovely view, thanks to alexia’s assurance, you watched from crowd as barca beat brann with a comfortable 3-1, earning themselves a place in the champions league semi-final. you applauded and cheered for the girls from your seat. frido soon noticed you though beckoning you to come join their celebrations on the pitch. as soon as the other girls noticed, it was clear that no one was taking no for an answer so you climbed over the barriers and with security reassured you weren’t a very dedicated fan, alexia helped you down to the pitch.

you hadn’t seen leah yet today, beginning to think that maybe you’d come away unscathed, but she’d spotted you within the first 5 minutes of her arrival. maybe it was because she was actively looking for you but there was no proof of that so. she watched on from the pitch where keira had summoned her as the barca girls made you come down from the stands to celebrate with them. you never missed an opportunity to do that at arsenal either as leah’s girlfriend, beth’s sister or their physio. you were always there for the matches come rain or shine, win or lose and it was becoming increasingly more obvious that you weren’t there anymore. the conti cup final was happening in a couple of days and leah wished nothing more than for you to be in the stands where you belonged cheering her on, but instead you’d be here.

“oi!” keira shoves leah out of her thoughts, “did you listen to a word i just said?” and looks around to see what had garnered leahs attention to which she found you in her sights. “stupid question, obviously not.”

“sorry.” leah mumbled, still yet to actually look away from you.

“you’re not sorry. you should go talk to her.” keira began her meddling.

“yeah maybe in a bit.” leah smiled sadly at keira, the falseness of it not fooling her best friend for a second.

you finally caught eyes with leah as alexia turned you in the direction of a funny sign that had her attention, but you found the blonde stood 15 metres from you a lot more interesting, especially the fact that she was already looking at you. so interesting that you hadn’t noticed alexia leaving until you felt her squeeze your arm and heard her tell you she’d be back in a minute. well now you were alone, the girls making their walk around the pitch to celebrate with the fans on the other side. you distracted yourself with a conversation with one of the medical staff that had been on the staff for today’s match, they informed you of the little niggles and twinges some of the girls had complained of during the game and half time.

“muchas gracias. que pase buena noche.” (thank you so much, have a nice evening.) you thanked the woman with a smile as the rest of the medical team packed up to leave.

“de nada. buenas noches.” (you’re welcome. goodnight.)

pulling your phone out you made a note of what she’d told you. “hi.”

there she was. you wondered how long it would take between you seeing her and her approaching. 10 minutes apparently. “hi.”

“hello.” she said again, you giggling at the awkwardness she never seemed to grow out of. “wait i already said that.”

“yep, you did.”

leah was relieved that you were laughing, better yet that she was the one making you laugh, or even speaking to her after the way things had been left at beth and viv’s wedding. “can we talk?”

“ye-“ you were interrupted by a hold on your arm from a certain spanish midfielder.

“estás bien?” (are you okay?) alexia asked, directing her attention to you not yet looking at leah. alexia knew all about your past relationship, you’d told her in one of your numerous physio sessions as she had told you about hers. well you hadn’t ever told her who it was only that said ex-girlfriend played alongside your sister but she’d figured it out with the small help of mapi telling her exactly who she was.

“si, soy buena.”(yeah, i’m good.) you smiled at her, not sure why she looked so worried for you. leah noticed your smile reached your eyes, a real genuine smile you were sending alexia. one she hadn’t coaxed out of you in some time, and she felt her heart sting once more. it was one thing seeing yours and alexia’s friendship or whatever it was through her phone screen but seeing it stand directly in front of her was worse than she thought.

“hola, leah.” once she saw that you were okay and seemingly unaffected (you were affected, just keeping it under wraps) by leahs approach, alexia turned her attention to her fellow blonde national captain.

“hi. good game.” leah pulled alexia in for a handshake, trying not to let the jealousy that was bubbling inside her show on the outside.

“oh, thank you. nice to see you.” alexia gave her a tight smile as she squeezed your hand and headed to follow the rest of the girls back inside. alexia was worried for her new friend, not wanting to see her return to the headspace she was in when she first arrived in barcelona.

you and leah headed back towards the stands where coincidentally you’d only been sat a few rows apart. “how are you?” she asked as she gave you a hand to help you back over the barrier.

“yeah, i’m good. how are you?”

“been better.” she sent you a sad smile. “i know you probably haven’t got much time but i just wanted to see if you’re up for getting a coffee or something before i go home on monday?”

you were both surprised and not surprised at leah’s question. you’d expected to have a conversation with her but thought it might’ve happened today. mapi’s words of advice rang through your head. you did miss her a lot, you thought about her all the time. maybe having that closure without the arguing would help you process this. clearly, you’d been doing a pretty shitty job by yourself for the past year and a half if every time you saw her all the feeling came rushing back.

“yeah actually, i’d like that. i’m free tomorrow morning?” you proposed.

“wait really? are you joking?” the smile appeared on her face. shed asked the question half expecting you to say no.

“obviously i’m not joking you idiot.” you laughed at her expression.

“tomorrows good. tomorrows so good.” she told you, still smiling widely. in reality, tomorrow wasn’t good. she had plans to go for breakfast with keira and her girlfriend tomorrow, but keira could wait. they’ll get lunch instead.

should someone be this stressed to see their ex-girlfriend again? probably not. should they also be this stressed over what they look like to see their ex-girlfriend again? also, probably not.

you’d been up 2 hours before you were supposed to be after not sleeping much at all in the first place. you’d gotten your outfit ready last night, declining your invitation to the club with the team to celebrate to ensure that you had a fresh head in the morning. deciding that the outfit you’d chosen last night wasn’t good enough and you hated your entire wardrobe ended with about 4 outfit changes before you finally got in your car, 20 minutes after you were supposed to leave.

“i’m so sorry i’m late leah.” you rushed out as you sat across from her at the table shed been perched at for 25 45 minutes.

“don’t worry, just had me thinking you weren’t going to show up.” she chuckled nervously, sliding the drink shed bough you over to you. “one iced latte with oat milk and one shot of vanilla and a shot of hazelnut.”

“you remembered.” you smiled at her. your coffee order had never changed in the years leah had known you and it hadn’t since. if you needed to be in work earlier than leah, there would be an iced latte on your desk promptly when she walked through the doors of the training centre.

“hard not to remember when you probably consist of 90% iced latte.”

“so has keira shown you the barcelona sights?”

“a few. found my favourite one yesterday at the game though.” she flirted. old habits die hard, i guess.

“i see you haven’t lost your charm miss williamson.” you laughed lightly. both of you dancing around the real reason leah asked you to meet.

“you seem really happy here, y/n/n.” leah pointed out. a bittersweet feeling to know that you were thriving somewhere else when she believed you should be in london, with her, but at least you were happy.

“yeah its been rough, i wont lie to you.” leah winced at your words, realising she’d been the reason for your move in the first place so she had no right to wish you were back in london. this was your home now. “you were a big part of my time in london so we said goodbye and then i had to say goodbye.”

“i know we left beth and viv’s on a sour note, but i really am genuinely sorry. for everything. the breakup, the neglect, the argument at the wedding. all of it.” she reaches across the small coffee table to grab your hand, something she always did to stop you biting at your painted nails.

“you still have it?” you borderline gasped at the sparkle you noticed on leahs hand. as soon as you noticed she retracted her hand, as if moving it would somehow take back what you’d seen, but you held tightly.

“erm-“ she cleared her throat, not expecting you or anyone else to see that the ring you bought her still holds pride of place on her hand some days, today being one of them. “yeah, i just like to have it on sometimes. reminds me of a better time.” in reality, she was wearing it at the wedding and hadn’t taken it off since. how could she take the ring off if she hadn’t stopped thinking about the girl who gave it to her?

“i didn’t mean to be so harsh towards you the other week, le.” you told her as you let go of her hand, falling back into your seat. “i think i just got overwhelmed. the whole day was a lot, you just got the brunt of it.”

“trust me i deserved it. if all i get of you these days is to be your punching bag, i’ll take it. it’s the least i can do.”

you chuckled sadly, knowing exactly what lead you and leah to this point but still wondering how you got here at the same time. “i miss you, y/n/n. i know i said it at the wedding, but it’s been a year and a half and some days i think i might be over it, that i might be ready to move on but i’m not and i’m really scared that i never will be.”

“i don’t want you to think that i don’t miss you because i do. all the time.” you confessed to her. “but that doesn’t change the fact that what happened and what you did really hurt me, leah. towards the end i was so afraid of you going to an event or a trip and leaving me that i didn’t realise i’d left myself behind already.”

leah hung her head. never in her life had she been so ashamed of how she’d treated someone, especially someone who loved and cared about her so deeply. you would have done anything for leah and a lot of the times you did. she always came first with you, and you did to her, until all of a sudden you didn’t. deep down you knew that it was partly to do with leah dealing with the sides of fame she never had to deal with before, becoming a household name within the space of a few weeks during the euros, but you also knew that you just weren’t her priority anymore whether she meant to do it or not.

“but i’m really tired of being angry leah.” you continued, the word ‘but’ sending a slither of hope through leah as she looked back towards you. “and i do miss you, so id really like it if we could be friends again.”

“i’d really like that too. having you back in any capacity is more than i deserve and more than good enough for me.” leah smiled wider than you’d seen in a while. even on your stalks through instagram you knew that half those smiles were fake.

“friends?”

“friends.”

the long awaited part 2! decided there will be at least 1-2 more parts of this just bare with me. enjoy🤍

#awfc #awfc x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #lionesses #woso one shot

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tinylilacbun · 2 months ago

Text

Saving Him

Summary: You save Rafe from being attacked by Groff, getting hurt in the process.

Pairing: daddy!rafe x little!reader

Warnings: age regression (briefly at the end), hand injury, blood, knife, cursing

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The bike comes to a stop near a well and Rafe waits for you to get off first before he slides off as well, taking off his goggles and you do the same.

You cough, your throat burning from the sandy wind and lack of hydration, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

Rafe stands in front of you, placing his hand on your arms he lowers his head to meet your eyes. "You good?"

"Mhm...just thirsty." You rasp and he turns to Groff.

"Get some water." He demands and you all walk over to the well, only to realize there's no water in it and Rafe sighs. "Don't worry I'll get you something soon, yeah?"

You simply nod, going to sit on the edge of the well while Rafe talks to Groff.

"Tell us about this crown. What is it worth? Street value, rough estimate." He crouches down in front of you with a hand on your knee he points a finger at the man you don't trust at all, having had a bad feeling about him the whole time. "This shit better be worth our time. Do you understand?"

"Oh, it's worth a fortune." Groff states. "It's one of the most sought-after relics in the world. Owned by Caesar, hunted by Napoleon, said to grant wishes and make the bearer indomitable."

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" Rafe curses, standing back up straight again to face Groff. "That wasn't even close to answering my question. What is it worth?"

"Hundreds of millions."

Rafe purses his lips, almost scoffing. "You're full of shit."

"Am I?"

"Hundreds of millions." He repeats. "Wait I- what, you got a buyer or something?"

"Yeah, I got a buyer." Groff answers confidentially.

"Where?"

"Ever been to Lisbon?" He smirks and you scoff at the way he talks as if this whole situation isn't bothering him. That he screwed Rafe freaking Cameron over 400k.

Rafe smiles, approaching him. "Look at you, Groff. A'ight. Always got a plan. Well, you screwed me and my girl. And then you lost my money to those mercenaries, a'ight? So now you're gonna be my bitch."

You smirk at that, that's your man right there.

"And if you're lucky, I give you a little taste on the back end, okay?" He continues, leaning a little closer to whisper so you can't hear. "If I let you live."

On Rafe's demand Groff rolls out the map beside you, showing you both how to read it with the strange necklace thingy that shows things you can't see on the map.

Rafe hands it to you so you can take a look as well and you gasp that it actually works, now this is something you'll rub in his face whenever he says magic is not real, your little self beaming at the sight and begging to make a remark. "That's crazy..."

You give it back to Rafe, not listening how Groff talks about how the crown gives power, only lifting your head when you see him pulling something out of his pocket in your peripheral vision.

Suddenly Groff lungs at Rafe and you instantly react before Rafe even gets the chance and push him to the side just as Groff wields the knife.

You yelp when the knife cuts the inside of your hand, taking a few steps back to clutch your wrist, hissing in pain.

Rafe hurriedly gets back on his feet and takes control of the situation, seeing how Groff now balances himself to not fall into the well behind him, giving him a little nudge to make him fall backwards.

Groff's yell has you sighing in relief momentarily, knowing he isn't a bother anymore, seeing how Rafe leans over the edge.

"HA HA! CHECKMATE BITCH!" Rafe screams.

You whimper, screwing your eyes shut tightly and trying to blend out the stinging pain in your hand, starting to sniffle. "Daddy..."

Rafe turns at the sound of you crying for him, rushing over to you. "You idiot. C'mere let me see..."

You yelp when he takes your hand. He examines the injury and your bottom lip quivers at the amount of blood, the scent of copper penetrating your nostrils. "Hurts..."

"I know, I know. Come, we gotta wrap it up." He shushes you, leading you back over to the bike.

He rummages through the sidecar for anything that resembles alcohol, luckily finding a small bottle together with a rag and unscrewing the cap of the bottle he grabs your hand again. "A'ight, this is gonna sting...here bite into my arm yeah?"

He pushes back the sleeve of the jacket and the shirt he's wearing, lifting his arm to your mouth so you can bite into it which he knows you most definitely will.

"Okay, one, two-" he pours the alcohol over your hand without waiting to three, knowing it would hurt a little less when it's unexpected.

You bite into his forearm with all your might, a loud whine escaping your throat, your eyes shut tightly again.

Rafe doesn't even wince, continuing to disinfect the wound thoroughly all the while soothing you with assuring words.

"There we go. All over, you're so brave, I'm proud of you..." He murmurs, pulling his arm away from your mouth he wraps the rag around your hand, tying it securely to prevent any more blood loss.

You're still sniffling, burying your face in his chest. "M'sorry...had to save you, daddy."

Rafe sighs, wrapping his arms around you he kisses the top of your head. He's actually so fucking proud of you for your courage but he's also mad that you got hurt only because he let his guard down for a second.

"Don't be sorry. Everything's okay." He says, pulling back to look down at you. "Let's go get this crown."

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

#little!reader #daddy!rafe cameron x little!reader #daddy!rafe x little!reader #daddy!rafe cameron #daddy!rafe #age regression

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ammoniteblue · 6 months ago

Text

Not a Hero, Just an Author (p.2)

kenji sato x reader

Her latest novel a flop, Y/N is starting to worry she wasn’t meant to be an author. She’s 24, lives alone and most of her college friends are either married or in more traditional jobs. she feels like she’s being left behind. That is until a charming baseball player finds his way into her life and shows Y/N that it takes more than talent to be a star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

At first the baseball card was left on your bedside table. But as you realised that night, after getting back from Mr. Ozami’s Ramen Shop, you couldn’t sleep with it so close to you. If you opened an eye you’d see it, sitting there atop the table. Then all thoughts of sleep evaded you. It was almost impossible not replay the events of the night over and over in you mind.

Kenji. His easy grin. The way his jacket hung just right off his shoulders.

so like any coward, you hid it. Pushed into a drawer crammed full of notebooks and stray pieces of paper. You left it there in your office, hidden within your desk and finally managed to sleep.

For two days the card sat in that drawer, hidden, out of sight out of mind.

Why an ordinary schmuck like you wasn’t jumping at the chance to call a legendary athlete like Kenji Sato you would never know. A million girls would kill to have his number and yet you….you couldn’t even bare to look at it.

But why ?

For those two days you did nothing but watch old reruns of his games. Ones of him in America, playing for the LA Dodgers, all dressed up in white and blue. He wore that same easy going smirk when he played too. Like he knew no matter what that he’d win.

Something in your keened for that kind of confidence. Most people would be jealous of Kenji for his wealth, his fame….his good looks. Not you. what you wanted was his confidence. how, when millions of people were watching him, did he look so carefree ?

Kenji was right. Maybe he’d just make a baseball fan out of you yet. When watching his reruns got boring you changed to interviews. They were always solo, usually him and some pretty female reporter.

A nasty green feeling curled up in your stomach as you watched the way he chuckled and smiled, tilting his head in an easy but flirty manner.

Arrogant asshole. Stupidly hot arrogant asshole.

On the second night your older sister called. she never rang your phone, always the landline. nobody ever used it and most of the time you forgot it was there until Ami rang for your weekly catch up.

She didn’t live far, only thirty minutes on the metro, but with her full time job as a reporter and status as a single mum she was usually busy. Of course you went over to help whenever you could, but lately you’d been avoiding her and therefore Chiho too.

You couldn’t admit to your powerhouse big sister, who had it all, that your book had been a flop. that you and Sana were desperately trying to secure a movie or tv show deal in hopes of recuperating your losses.

Yes a show or movie would put you on the map, give you the status of a serious author, but it would also mean some hollywood exec tearing your baby apart and turning it into some dark, sexy CW series.

Your heartwarming story of a boy’s struggles through adulthood, as he comes to terms with his new powers and what they mean, made into the next Riverdale. You’d rather die.

Oh the shame.

“Y/N you need to call back mum, she’s worried about you.” Immediately Ami is hounding you over the phone.

with a sigh you respond, “yes Ami, it’s nice to hear from you too.”

“we’re just worried about you. lately you’ve been so distant. we miss you. Chiho misses you, she keeps asking where her auntie is.” Her words cut straight to your heart.

A pang of guilt hits your stomach as you imagine Chiho’s sad wide eyes asking where you are. That was a dirty move on Ami’s side.

“Things are just…” you scramble for an excuse, “busy. yeah i’ve got some book stuff and…..and there’s this guy.”

wait what ? why the fuck did you say that ?

“a guy ?” your sister asked.

oh shit well no going back now.

“um yeah a guy. he’s nice ?” you almost sounded questioning.

there was a pause before Ami made a sound of excitement.

“That’s amazing Y/N ! i’m so happy for you. you’ve got to bring him over, mum would love to meet him. we all would.”

you knew that was code for “as your big sis i need to vet this guy and make sure he’s good enough for you”.

two minutes later and you found yourself promising to bring this mystery guy over soon along with returning your mums anxious calls.

“we love you Y/N, please don’t forget that.”

After she hung up you sat there for a minute. It was dark out and if not for the light from the TV the living room would’ve been submerged in complete darkness. Another interview was playing, an old one. Kenji couldn’t have been older than 20. A college graduate recruited to play baseball full time. He looked so happy, the kind of energy only young people have. when they’re still full of hope, before the world has smashed it into pieces.

once upon a time you looked like that. maybe in those weeks just after your first book deal. fresh out of university and the promise of bright career in writing.

As you watched him, you replayed the conversation with your sister over in your head. she’d sounded so worried. they both did, her and mum. something had to change. you needed to do something, anything to fix this funk you’d fallen into.

maybe that’s why you walked out of the living room and into your study.

The desk drawer slid open easily and inside the baseball card gleamed up at you. You reached in, picked it up and then grabbed your phone from your back pocket.

Ten digits later, your phone rang and after several seconds of intense silence there was a voice.

“Hey Kenji speaking.” It was him, really him. “umm hello ? if this is that guy from the gossip magazine then please f-“

“It’s the girl from the ramen shop, Mr. Ozami’s.” You quickly interrupt.

Kenji goes silent, the threat dying on his tongue.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

“Yeah.” you mumble in response.

Theres another awkward silence.

“So…” He starts

“So…” You repeat.

For an international heartthrob, Kenji Sato is surprinsgly not that smooth. Just like you he’s unsure of what to say, and for the first time the baseball icon seems a little human to you. it’s what gives you the confidence to speak first.

“I watched some of your games.” You try, unable to fight the heat rushing to your cheeks.

was that weird ? was admitting you’d watched him play weird ?

There’s a laugh over the phone that puts all your worries to rest.

“Really ? i thought you said you didn’t like baseball ?” He asks, amused.

“Oh i still don’t, but i wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” You respond boldly, almost flirty.

“And ?” He prompts.

from over the phone you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“And i thought you were pretty good.” You can’t help the smile that pulls at your mouth as he makes an unbecoming noise.

“pretty good ? i think you mean the best babe.”

oh. OH.

Suddenly the pyjamas you’re wearing felt too tight, too hot. you slipped off the couch and padded over to a window, opening it to let in a fresh night breeze.

“I-I mean,” you try to school your voice, “sure you’re good but the best ? that might be a stretch.”

Oh good lord why did you say that ? Why was your go to defence insults ?

“Well if you need some proof why don’t you come to a game ?” His proposition catches you completely off guard.

“a game ?” you’d never been to a baseball game.

how much were the tickets ? You weren’t exactly very liquid right now. yes the advance on your latest book had been quite a lot but with it not hitting its sale targets you’d had to make a few setbacks. no excessive shopping, no eating out - Mr. Ozami’s was an exception - no travelling. A baseball game sounded expensive. could you afford the tickets ?

“Yeah, i’ll send you a ticket,” and then cockily adds, “don’t worry i’ll make sure you have a good view.”

You breath out a small laugh. It was a tempting offer. A free ticket, the chance to experience something new and watch cute men run around a field in tight pants. What was not to like. Maybe this was what you needed to get you out of that funk.

“Okay,” you found yourself responding, “that would be nice. thank you.”

there’s a chuckle over the phone and like that you figure the call is coming to an end until Kenji adds:

“But on one condition.”

So close.

“What’s that ?” You try to sound normal.

“You let me take you out.”

three days later

The new Tokyo Stadium was a magnificent piece of architecture. it had only opened a few months ago but you’d yet to see it. with a book tour and signings and fan events you hadn’t had the time to walk around the city like you used to.

Dressed up in your nicest pair of jeans and a Giants jersey you’d bought just for this game, you joined the back of one of the ticket booth queues.

Kenji had sent you an E-ticket right after your call. since then whenever you went onto your phone you’d checked to see if it was still there. the sight of it was a confirmation that this was real. the Kenji Sato had not only given you his number, invited you to a game but had asked you out on a date. you turning up to this was basically confirmation that yes you wanted to go.

A date with Kenji Sato.

What was happening to your life.

Since that night you’d itched to call your sister, to tell her what was going on. But you couldn’t. Ami was so practical, she followed her head over her heart. if she found out she would tell you to drop it. that Kenji Sato was a known flirt who was scared of commitment and would leave you high and dry. He wasn’t the dating type. Not at least according to the hundreds of magazines and articles you’d spent the last few days reading.

it was all there. his long, slightly hazardous, dating history. models and musicians. beautiful women with no body fat and immaculate skin. the kinds of girls that you see online or in magazines. you couldn’t be further from them.

What on earth did Kenji Sato see in you ? A small time author with a minor online following and, according to one very cruel article in the Tokyo Post, a dying career.

Ami would tell you to quit while you’re ahead, before you’ve gone on a date with this guy and inevitably let him charm you into submission.

But Ami wasn’t here and you were in too deep now.

The lady at the ticket booth scanned your ticket and then you were in. it was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The stadium rippled with noise. hundreds of thousands of fans filled it, filing into seats, calling out for hot dogs and beers from the uriko girls.

like you many people wore Giants jerseys. Children and women and men. some had orange face paint strewn across their cheeks.

suddenly you felt less self conscious about the jersey you were wearing. nobody would glance at you and think you’d never been to a game before let alone not know a thing about the sport or rules.

it took you a while to find your seat. you walked further and further into the stadium, eyes scanning the rows for the letter A. it wasn’t till you were right at the front that you found it. to your surprise, your seat was just above the dugout, giving you a clear view of the home plate.

not only had Kenji Sato bought you a ticket, he’d bought you maybe one of the best seats in the whole place.

There was a buzz in your back pocket. you reached for your phone.

enjoy the show

Kenji.

As you stated at the message, biting back a grin, a sudden chorus of cheers shook the stadium. around you people had jumped to their feet, hoisting posters and foam fingers high into the air. the people next to you, a little girl and her mum, were jumping up and down in excitement. the little girl held a poster in her hands and with one quick glance you realised it was of Kenji.

You turned to look at the field and suddenly it made sense. There waltzing up to the home plate was the man himself.

Kenji Sato.

His white jersey gleamed in the midday sun. the number seven printed on the back in big block lettering. a baseball bat hung almost carelessly in his left hand. you were sure that under that helmet he was wearing the most obnoxious grin possible.

The Kenji Sato show was live.

As he strolled up to the home plate, he turned to wave at the crowds. what a showboater. it worked though. another round of cheers rippled through the crowds, so loud it almost made you wince. the little girl was nearly crying with excitement next to you.

You cheered along too, a little unsure of yourself. it wasn’t like you’d ever done this before. Then to your absolute horror, Kenji Sato glanced across the crowd until he locked eyes with you.

Had he been looking for you ?

He must have, because as soon as he saw you his grin grew even bigger. a look of absolute smugness. He gave you a once over, something unmistakable flashing across his face as he saw the jersey you were wearing. it had been a coincidence, you picking out the number seven jersey. Until now you hadn’t realised it was his jersey. did he think you’d done it on purpose ?

Oh my god he did.

There was a self assured smirk on his face as he gave you one last look before turning to batter up. An almost unnatural silence fell over the stadium. everyone waited with baited breath, about to witness for the first time Kenji Sato batting in the Japanese League.

The pitcher swung his arm back and the ball sailed through the air.

To your surprise and everybody else’s Kenji missed. The ball went square into the catcher’s mitt. You’d watched enough of his games to know Kenji rarely missed a ball. maybe it was nerves ? His first game on a new team, in a new country. anyone would be nervous. But then he missed the second time and from your seat you could catch the way his hand flew to his shoulder, as if in pain.

Then the catcher said something, what exactly you couldn’t hear. But judging by Kenji’s reaction it wasn’t anything good. You watched with wide eyes as the batter levelled up to the catcher, his bat almost held like a weapon. The pair were almost chest to chest until the umpire stepped in. there was a final heated exchange before Kenji returned to bat. Then to everyone’s surprise he swapped sides, changing to his right hand to bat.

A series of quiet murmurs, sceptical and surpised words, rippled through the crowds. Did this not happen often ? You weren’t entirely sure what was going on. But judging by the confused looks around you Kenji was about to do something unprecedented in baseball.

All you could do was watch as the pitcher made his final throw. the ball flew through the air. the silence had never been thicker, and then with a speed so intense you nearly missed it, Kenji swung the bat back. there was contact. an almost cracking sound and the ball was sent soaring into the opposite direction.

the crowd roared with approval. the noise shook the stadium and to your surprise you found yourself up on your feet cheering along with them.

“Go Kenji !” You cried, almost jumping up and down as he ran each base.

A victorious grin had broken out on his face, and as he returned to home base he glanced up at you. Suddenly you felt self conscious stood there, hands in the air your cheeks flushed. But then he winked at you and something electric and light and fluttering soared through your chest.

He was incredible.

And then the Kaiju appeared.

is she the queen of cliffhangers or what ?? stay tuned for part three !! also if people are confused about why the reader seems to contradict herself a lot it’s meant to show how she’s an unreliable narrator, and like can’t see that she’s doing better than she thinks.

#ken sato x reader #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji x reader #kenji sato #ultraman rising #ultraman

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monstrifex-art · 1 year ago

Text

Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.

#art #monster #Rita #werewolf #transformation #story

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chadillacboseman · 1 year ago

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Pairing: Phillip Graves x GN!Reader (no actual pairing between them tho) Word Count: Idk man. Like 1.5k. Warnings: Graves being pathetic, masturbation, pillow humping, reader is in a relationship with Alejandro. Summary: The MW2 timeline is fluid, and brother, I'm hooked up to an IV. Graves is in Las Almas with 141 and Los Vaqueros, sharing space with them as the hunt for Hassan continues. There's only one thing he wants while he's there. You.

Phillip Graves isn't used to not getting what he wants.

Contractor money can buy almost anything, can sway almost anyone. Being denied isn't really in the handbook.

The first time Graves laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. You were bent low over a map, contemplating alongside Rudy and Alejandro.

You took his fucking breath away.

Graves and his Shadows have been with the 141 and Los Vaqueros for weeks now, searching for Hassan and the missiles with no progress. No end in sight.

He's done his yelling at Shepherd, spent countless hours on the phone begging for a way out of the contract or a base of his own in Las Almas.

"What is the problem, Graves?" Shepherd is frustrated, taking his call in between meetings and debriefs, "Can I not count on you to get this done?"

"Sir-" Graves is flustered, pacing the hallway outside the base's shop, "Their base isn't equipped-"

"Get the job done, Graves, and don't call me until you do!"

The line goes dead.

"Shepherd giving you a hard time?" you're leaning against the wall, your head cocked to the side as you observe him.

"You could say that," Graves shoves the phone back in his pocket and avoids your gaze.

Alejandro stuck Graves with you when he first arrived, tasking you with giving him a tour of the base and getting him familiar with the operations. You were radiant, effortlessly funny and undaunted by his power or his position.

The obsession is insidious, starting slowly, with Graves missing the sound of your voice or the way you smelled when you weren't around. He finds himself making excuses to be close to you, to take details that have the two of you alone.

He tries to hide it, tries so desperately to make sure no one notices the way he trails after you and stares at you with wide, pleading eyes whenever you speak.

Graves wants to have you so badly it hurts.

But he can't.

You're Alejandro's, and he makes that abundantly clear at every turn. He always keeps a protective hand on you, steals small kisses from you when he thinks no one is looking.

Oh, how Graves despises the Vaquero. He wants to see him bleed. To see him crumpled in a heap on the floor of some jail cell he'll never escape.

For now, he settles for watching from the shadows, pining like some lovesick schoolboy as he watches Alejandro enjoy what should be his.

He imagines what you must feel like, what you must taste like; he thinks of how soft your hair would be, splayed out over his pillow, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

The need burns hot in Graves' chest, pooling and dark, so strong that it scares him. He's never wanted anything so badly in his life, never felt the hopeless, burning and inescapable jealousy he feels now.

He finds himself avoiding you. Avoiding your sun-bright eyes and infectious laugh. When you approach him, he turns heel and flees like a coward.

You notice. Of course you do. You're so fucking smart. Too smart for Alejandro, that brainless lout.

Graves takes to hiding in a server room at the base, some hole in the wall full of wires and blinking lights. It's loud, hot, and stifling, but it's mercifully free of you.

Until it isn't.

"Phillip, what the hell is going on with you?"

Your voice jolts him from his work, and he nearly sends his laptop clattering to the floor.

Phillip. No one ever calls him that- just you. It sends a burning, sizzling, hot lead of high voltage straight through his chest that makes his ears flush red.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Graves nearly has to spit it through his clenched teeth. He's a shitty liar, he knows it and you know it too. It's the reason he never joins in on poker nights with the 141.

"You're avoiding me," there's resentment and accusation in your voice, but there's something else too, something that makes his heart drop. Sadness.

Graves has been avoiding you. Even being in your presence makes him feel like he's losing control. Seeing Alejandro steal little touches, hearing the way you laugh when he whispers something in Spanish. It drives him mad.

"I have work to do, princess," he tries to soften the edge in his voice, but it doesn't work- the cutesy nickname instead feels like an insult lobbed at you.

You open and close your mouth a few times, processing what he's just said to you. You look hurt and he's spiraling. He wants to jump to his feet and cup your chin, to tell you to run away with him. Run back to the States and leave this shithole behind.

"Fuck you, Graves," you turn on your heel and disappear from the doorway. The use of his last name stings- it takes everything in his power to not race after you, to apologize and beg for your forgiveness.

It's your turn to avoid him now. Graves expects relief, but he doesn't get it. You're so deeply embedded in his brain that he can't seem to shake himself out of his obsession.

He wants to apologize- no, he needs to apologize to you. You're hard to find, though. Making yourself scarce in areas you know he'd be in. Maybe you won't forgive him. Maybe you'll tell him to fuck off and that will be enough to snap him out of it.

Graves finally finds you in the shop. It's late, later than you have any business being there. Alejandro went off-base hours ago.

"Hey-" his voice sounds small and threatens to crack, dropping like a dead weight in the tense air.

You don't look up from what you're working on, merely offering him an almost imperceptible nod to acknowledge his presence.

"What do you want, Graves?"

To apologize. To tell you the truth. To pin you to the wall and-

"If you haven't got anything to say to me, then please leave me alone," you sound annoyed, but there's something else to it. You don't want him to leave, but he doesn't know that.

"Look, I'm..." he trails off, the words aren't coming out. It's like they're stuck just behind his tongue. Suddenly, he's fifteen again, stuttering in front of the third new classmates he's had that year.

"I'm sorry," the apology finally falls out of his mouth, almost as one word in his hurry to say it, "For the other day."

You finally look up at him, and he feels his heart leap into his throat. In the dim light of the shop, your features are even more striking. Your eyes glimmer under the yellow incandescent bulbs, and there's a smudge of grease on your cheek.

God, how he wants to reach out and swipe his thumb across your skin.

"Phillip," there it is again. It makes his heart hammer against his rib cage, "What's going on with you?"

He could tell you the truth. Maybe a slap across the face would change his opinion of you-

"Phil?" you reach out and tap gently on his vest, rapping your fingertips against the flag badge that adorns it, "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Just say it. Say it! SAY IT!

Your phone rings and Graves jumps, his confession coming to a stop just behind his teeth. He glimpses the contact name on the screen and feels his nerves be replaced with a wave of jealousy.

Alejandro.

Your conversation with him is a blur, Graves catches words here and there, "soon" "in the shop" "I'd love that".

"Phil, we'll continue this conversation tomorrow, okay?" you cock your head and try to read his expression to no avail.

"Sure," he swallows, hard, and watches as you walk away.

While the others are crammed together at the base, Graves is in private lodging, paid for on Shadow Company's dime. He tosses his bags to the floor and sheds his tactical vest, letting it drop haphazardly in a heap by the door.

The shower is calling his name, but he doesn't have the energy to do it, instead dropping onto the bed and cradling his head in his hands. There's no telling how long this assignment is going to last, how long he'll have to contend with his feelings and try not to make a fool of himself.

Graves thinks of your face, of the way you had looked up at him in the shop. You'd look so good with your lips wrapped around his cock, staring up at him with those beautiful fucking eyes of yours.

He groans, feeling the familiar tightness at his zipper, almost painful until he frees himself with a hiss.

"Fuck-" Graves grazes his fingertips over his length, pausing at the tip to swipe the pad of his thumb over the beads of precum collecting there.

He moans your name, hips bucking into the friction of his own hand, his mind conjuring up all the ways he would fuck you; all the ways he would make you his.

His hand isn't enough.

Graves rolls onto his stomach, the waistline of his jeans just low enough to expose him entirely. He grasps desperately, hands fumbling until he finds a pillow and jams it roughly between himself and the bed.

"Fuck, baby, that's it," it's not you, it's not the same, but the sensation is enough for now.

Graves grinds himself so lewdly he should be embarrassed, humping his pillow like a horny teenager, thinking of you. He moans loudly, the sound echoing in the empty room, as he ruts into the fabric like an animal.

He thinks of you. Of your scent, your smile, the way you say his name. He'd give anything to hear you cry it out while pinned beneath him, to have you come undone entirely because of him.

Graves braces his hand on the mattress, panting as he fucks into the fabric, his hips rolling in rhythmic thrusts as he chases his peak.

"So good," he's babbling now, his mind racing to envision you taking his cock, tight and fucking perfect, "m'gonna- gonna cum-"

Graves tumbles over the edge, crying out your name as he spills hot spurts of cum onto the pillow; his hips stutter out one final thrust until he's spent, panting into the mattress in the pressing quiet of his hotel room.

Graves rolls over, laying an arm over his chest as he tries to catch his breath. He stares at the ceiling, trying to imagine what it must be like to have you in an intimate moment like this, to have you soaked in sweat and curled into his embrace.

He tries to make peace with never knowing.

#phillip graves x reader #ns/fw #phillip graves #cod mw2 #holy shit did i write something???

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sopaprimordialy · 1 month ago

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My favorite part of every Warriors' song

(it was really hard to chose some of those)

Survive the night Bronx. Everything that Bronx says.

Roll Call "As far as you can see from the top of the wonder wheel..." I just LOVE the way Cleon sings this bit.

Warriors Cypher "Ajax, and I'm sick of runnin' off at the mouth, I got two f's for ya'll, fuck around find out!"

Make Way For Cyrus The way Masai says Riffs.

If You Can Count "Imagine what I had to do to stay on top!" I love, LOVE the power with which she sings this. I non ironically almost cry sometimes

Derailed "IT WAS THE WARRIORS! THE WARRIORS! THE WARRIORS SHOT CYRUS" very simple: when I've read "KIM DRACULA as LUTHER" I almost fainted. This line stuck in my head forever. I love the rest of the song but I would be straight up lying.

Woodlawn Cemetery "Rembrandt, just before we go, make our mark and let them know that we were here tonight!" love how this is sang waaa

Leave The Bronx Alive Everything in Spanish, but specially "ASESINA'! ASESINA' VIREN PA CA!"

A Track Fire And A Phone Call "Hey, I found Coney Island on this map :D Figure out how many stops to union square 😼 Come on, that's high math for Rembrandt 😅"

Going Down EVERYTHING! Joking but not joking, "Light one match, don't be scared, you just might watch the world burn!" I like how gentle he sounds here, contrasting with the rest of the song. I imagine it as him trying to genuinely calm Cropsy's fears down in his own distorted crazy way

Orphan Town "CHICKEEEEEEENS! WHAT A COUP FULL OF CHICKEEEEENS!" and, ofc, the way she says buck buck buck buck buck buck BCACK!

Call Me Mercy "LOOK AT THESE WOMEN!" I STG I ALMOST CRY EVERY TIME also the way this song uses basically the same notes as "Burn" 👀 I could even play the main chords just by using the sheet for Burn and changing the order.

Still Breathin' "Gun? Where's the gun? If I am guilty then where's my gun?" and the rest of Cleon's rap. I want to sing like that when I grow up.

Quiet Girls Them being described as "the House of Hurricanes" rather than as a gang; "We live at the edge of the dark but we still make a mark 'cause we spark and we are who we AAAAAAAAAHAHAAAARE~" I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS LINES YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA I WRITE IT EVERYWHERE I CAN

Outside Of Gray's Papaya "You got a problem?🙄🤨 hey I got fifty cents 😀☝ I got a dollar 😊 We gotta find another train 😐❌"

Sick Of Running When Ajax and Mercy sing together "No I'm not scared of what's dangerous! I'll ride or die 'til the day comes, I won't be done in! I'M SICK OF RUNNIN'!"

Park At Night Ajax roasting Barnes the cop. Every single little swearing she throws at him "HA but you wanted to play right? OLD ASS PREDATOR, looking for prey right? BITCH! You allergic to daylight? Talkin' that shit but got nothin' to say right? STAY RIGHT THERE, SMILE MOTHERFUCKER!" ah, so satisfying

Luther Interlude "This is fun! Kingdom come and thy/my will be done" it's so funny how Cropsy's worshiping him here- seriously like, get a partner that looks at you and talks abt you in the way Cropsy does abt Luther bcs HOLY SHIT GIRL WTF'S YOUR PROBLEM?

Cardigans "Matching cardigans? That's cute. You don't wear something like that unless you really care. About looking a fool"

We Got You When it finally ends. I'm joking, I like the little "you sing?" but that's about it 😐

A Light Or Somethin' The whole concept, ofc, because I was NOT expecting a lesbian duet when I listened to it in the first time. The part that was the turn for me to realize what was happening was, of course, "I'm loyal to yoooou~ ... What's wrong? Kiss me :)". After that everything about this song is so perfect that I honestly don't know what to pick

We Got You (Reprise) "Every subway in the city has graffiti so speedy that you never see the pieces right" This is one of my favorite takes in the entire musical. It feels so close to home, you know? And I think this speaks for every artist living in a big city, trying to grasp at every little piece of art among the chaos of urban life. (It's almost ironical how this line is in my second less favorite song-)

Somewhere In The City "And someday in the city we won't have to run each time a broken person gets ahold of a gun! Breathe easy every night knowing we'll see the sun" I was in need of this hope. I really was.

Reunion Square Oh boy... where do I even begin? I could just put the entire song here, but I'll put the part that makes me cry hard every time, especially knowing what happens after this: "I'm sick of being afraid of you... And what you have the power to do! You're the baddest gang in the city, that's true. Ha! And your color's fuckin' powder blue." (I was literally on the verge of tears just from listening to it again to write this) I think the samples used in the police chase part also deserve mentioning. They really are very similar to those in La Haine, I'm SURE that's a reference. Anyway, despite of the sadness, this is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever listened to.

Same Train Home My first instinct is to say "THE KISS!!" but, although I LOVED it, the most emotional part for me was when the DJ starts to sing in first person, including herself instead of just narrating the scene. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is the only part this happens: "We're taking the same train home "We're all in the same train home [...] "As we pass beyond King's Highway just before the break of day, we say MAKE WAY FOR US!"

Finale This is a HUGE song with a lot of things happening so I'll just put all of my fav lines here: "There it is, the top of the wonder wheel... the Warriors are here" "Spoke truth to power in our darkest hour!" (literally cried) "Cleon! Our leader... who dreamed of something sweeter!" (love how this is sung) "Warriors come out to play-ay!" (progressively more insane and holy shit someday I'll be as strong as Kim Dracula's throat) "POW! All out of quarters no more extra lives!" (such a nerd) "One on one! Drop the gun. (Or you're a chickeeeeeen?)" (he is) "Sand in your eye, hate in your heart, you only know how to break shit apart! Your crew is scared of you, see how it scatters- My crew would DIE FOR ME, loyalty matters!" "Yeah hi it's Masai 🕴🏿"

ALL THE WARRIORS SINGING TOGETHER!

#warriors musical #warriors album #warriors concept album #sopa talks #I had to put it somewhere #now read it (points metaphorical gun)

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lady-raziel · 2 months ago

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Dear god I hope I'm remembering right and you play Fallout 4

Any mod recommendations?

My friend I not only play Fallout 4, play Fallout 4 a lot, but in fact play Fallout 4 to the point that thinking about this game keeps me up at night and has increasingly over time become something that has significant bearing on my real-world activities in a way that baffles and confounds. (It in fact is very beneficial to me that you, my treasured and beloved tumblr mutual, remembers me as notably being a person who cares about Fallout 4 completely unprompted.)

Anyways, here are a few mods that I tend to use most often:

Everyone's Best Friend (Dogmeat and Companion At Same Time - No Console - No Hack) at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

This is the one mod I use basically above all else, which is silly given how simple it is. Basically it just lets you have Dogmeat and another companion travel with you simultaneously, so you never have to choose between having your doggy and like, getting important relationship-building story bits and commentary on events. Also useful since it can make combat a little easier since Dogmeat also helps in fights.

Important NPC Essential Edition at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

I hate how I can meet a funny little NPC that I like a lot, assign them to a settlement, and then they get killed in some random mutant raid or whatever. This mod keeps that from happening! A win for funny little NPCs.

True Storms - Wasteland Edition (Thunder-Rain-Weather Redone) at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

This one adds cooler, more intense weather events that feel a little more immersive than vanilla edition. Definitely good for truly terrifying rad-storm experiences.

GRASSLANDS - A Fallout 4 Grass Overhaul at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

Grass! I kinda don't like how dead all the plants are since 200+ years post-apocalypse is more than enough time for greenery to return. This mod helps everything feel a bit more alive and so that it's not like the bombs just dropped like 20 years ago or something.

The Eyes Of Beauty Fallout Edition at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

This one is great for generally cooler eye options for normal colors, plus every insane color variation you can imagine. Fun for unique character design purposes!

How Convenient at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

This one gives you a set powerful weapons straight out of the Vault that normally you wouldn't be able to find until much later. I've found it most useful for repeat playthroughs where I don't want to take extra time away from whatever I'm trying to do and grind early-game stuff, and want to just be able to power through a little faster.

Dismiss Porter Gage To Any Settlement at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

If you have the Nuka-World DLC, the companion from there can only typically be dismissed to settlements in the DLC map, which is annoying if you're frequently swapping companions like I tend to. This way you can dismiss him to the same central settlement as other companions if you want to do this too.

Danse GTFO Power Armor at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

Normally you can't ask Danse to take his power armor on and off like you can do with other companions, and this quality-of-life mod allows that if you need to go somewhere and you don't want him clomping in a giant metal suit behind you.

And a few silly and fun ones that I enjoy:

Danse Danse Revolution at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

Changes the name of the laser rifle Danse gives you to Danse Danse Revolution. That's all.

Buzz Lightyear Paladin Danse at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

Turns Danse's power armor into Buzz Lightyear, and Preston Garvey's outfit into Woody the cowboy. Goofy but kinda fitting.

Star Wars - The Lightsaber at Fallout 4 Nexus - Mods and community

Adds lightsabers as craftable weapons. Not really lore compliant, but fighting in power armor with a lightsaber is sick as hell so who cares.

There are a few more I know of that are more intense story and quest-addition mods, but if you're just playing the game for the first time, they're probably best added later.

Thank YOU for asking and please feel free to send many more asks about Fallout 4. I have many thoughts, and unfortunately for the ENTIRE WORLD, I'm pretty willing to share them.

#fallout #fallout 4

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mj-102009 · 5 months ago

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The Marionette (Alastor x oc Part One)

Masterlist

-----------

-Some time ago-

“This is disgusting,” Vox growled, destroying the radio in a twitch of his fingers. The screams instantly fell silent.

“I think it's clever,” One of the forgettable overlords chipped in.

Velvette snarled at them, effectively shutting them up. “It’s clever to shits like you who think anything bloody is amazing because it gets your dick hard.”

Before she could go any further, Carmilla stood at the end of the table and held a list. We all winced as fellow overlords were listed off. “–were all lost to this so-called Radio Demon.”

This meeting was one of the only recorded ones that had every living overlord accounted for– excluding the Radio Demon.

On Carmilla’s right, I studied a map that she had laid out. “He’s going after the biggest ones.”

Val snickered and opened his mouth to make a dick joke, but Zestial cut him off early. “Anyone in his path of destruction should be on guard.”

“So we fight,” Vox shrugged. “He can’t take all of us.”

I exchanged looks with Carmilla. “You can try and fight,” all eyes turned to me as I spoke in my soft tone. “But if we’ve noticed anything these past few days…this demon is anything but a fool. And he won’t fall for your traps.”

Alliances were formed that day, the Vee’s made plenty of deals with others for protection. While I refused to accept any bribe or offer.

“This fucker thinks he can kill us,” Vox boasted. “Someone needs to put this cocky piece of shit in his place.”

“I’d be careful,” I purred with a teasing grin. “Doesn’t seem like this demon is taking his time, and after all only one of you relies on a wifi router to function.”

Val barked a laugh and Vox glitched. “Watch it, Barbie, video killed the radio star.”

I raised a single perfect brow and stood from my place at the table. “Get some new material, T-Mobile. And it’s Marionette to you.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” He called down the hall as I walked off. “That’s 5G!”

I would never recommend walking the streets of hell anywhere except sloth. The demons in sloth tend to know better than to jump someone like me.

A dull buzzing in my pocket broke me out of my thoughts. “Yes?”

“The radio dick got Vox,” Valentino growled, getting straight to the point.

I inhaled sharply. “Dead? Or just wounded,” I bring my hand to the bridge of my nose and sigh through the growing stress headache.

“Just his ego,” Velvette snorted from across the line.

“I told the fool to be on guard,” I sigh, dropping my hand and opening my eyes. “Tell Carmilla and update me on how the Spark Plug is fairing.”

They hung up with a grunt of agreement. I looked over my shoulder and squinted at the shadows, every corner of the street seemed to be pulling towards me.

To scare me.

To intimidate me.

I ran a hand through my iron curled hair and chuckled. “I’m not sure whether to thank you for Vox’s condition or avenge his pride,” I told the wind slowly.

A whoosh of air then a hum of static filled the street, pricking at my skin and making my hair rise.

“Ah yes!” A voice cheered in front of me as the shadows condensed into a solid figure. “The moving picture fellow.”

I studied him with a hum. “Radio Demon,” I nodded in greeting.

“The Marionette,” His smile was far too plastered for my taste. “Your ethereal beauty was undersold to me.”

“Charmed,” I smile warmly. “How may I be of assistance.”

It wasn’t a genuine question.

I knew full well what he wanted.

“To take your position of power of course!” His smile turned sinister.

With a click of my tongue I tilted my head at him. “I appreciate your drive, I really do,” His eyes flickered. “But I must advise…”

With a flick of his fingers a hole opened in the ground and three massive tentacles erupted from within. I snapped my fingers and the world came to a pause, I lifted my skirts and stepped around the tentacles. I moved to stand behind him.

Again I lifted my hand and snapped my fingers. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

He whirled around and swung down with the staff. I grabbed his wrist causing him to drop it and snapped with my right hand.

Instantly as the world froze his tentacle monsters disappeared. “What did you do?” He asked without his filter, panicked as he realized he was stuck.

“I’ve brought you to the in-between,” I tell him . “A place frozen in time,” I walked forward and tilted my head. “The only drawback is that we have no power here.”

He hissed. “They didn’t tell me you could do this.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow and my lips curled in amusement. “Who’s they?”

“They said you could move people,” This tantrum reminded me of a child. “What is this?”

I picked up his discarded staff and flicked it from hand to hand. “Oh anyone can do this with enough power,” He watched me warily. “I just know an overzealous demon with fresh power, and guessed you wouldn’t know much.”

“I killed the rest,” He told me. “I’ll slaughter you and use you for dinner.”

“So dramatic,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’ve been here for centuries, learning– do you really think you’re the first demon to come after my land?” I looked up at him and grinned. “And you weren’t miss informed,” I snapped my fingers again and instantly he thrust out his hand and his staff flew to his hands. His back stretched with his limbs and he prowled towards me. I flicked my fingers and an invisible string yanked him all the way back into a building. “Just under prepared.”

I walked up to his crumpled form and studied him. “You won’t last long here,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Shame as well, you have the Vee’s shaking.”

-30 years later-

“Are you coming to the meeting?” Velvette snapped into the phone.

“Can’t say I planned on it,” I hum into the phone. “Why?”

She huffed in frustration. “Carmilla invited the Radio dick.”

My lips curled into a grin. “And?”

She sputtered. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ‘AND’? HE NEARLY KILLED VOX!”

“So,” I shrug. “Not my circus, not my monkeys, I remember telling all of you to watch out,” I remind her plainly.

“You’re the Marionette,” She complained. “You’re one of the oldest overlords in hell. You have to go.”

“Good bye, Velvette,” I deadpanned, hanging up and dropping my phone on my desk.

A knock made me look up with a hum.

“Milady,” A meek voice greeted me. “Ms. Rosie is here to visit you.”

I lift my head and stand with a smile. “Rosie!” I beam walking to meet her in a hug. “Love, hello, what are you doing here?”

“Libby!” She greets me, returning my embrace and sitting on the loveseat across from me. “I can’t visit an old friend on my way to the meeting.”

I signal for the other demon to bring tea. “Of course you can,” I smile. “How’ve you been?”

She cupped her hands in her lap. “Well I’ve been getting to know the other overlords in the area as you suggested.”

“Oh how lovely,” I nod, taking the platter of tea and setting it down on the coffee table. “May I ask who?”

“Alastor,” She told me while taking a sip of her tea. “Do you have any pinky fingers?”

I furrow my brows as I tell my assistant to get her the fingers. “Forgive me– age might just be catching up with me– but who is Alastor?” I frown. I haven’t been to a meeting in a while but I don’t recall seeing anyone new on the news…

“The Radio Demon,” She says casually.

“Goodness,” I laugh slightly. “Velvette told me he was attending meetings but I didn’t believe it.”

She hums. “You’ve met?”

I smile awkwardly. “Briefly, some time ago.”

“Ah,” She nods understandingly. “He’s calmed down some.”

“Oh I hope so,” I chuckle. “I almost feel guilty for how I treated him.”

Rosie gave me a look and I cracked a grin.

She looked at the clock and stood with a sigh. “Did you plan on going?”

“I didn’t,” I muse. “I can if you wish me too.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” She told me.

I hum and stand. “Allow me to change.”

When I come back out of my quarters, I have on a deep red off the shoulder dress that pools along the floor. Rosie smiles and clasps her hands together.

“Gorgeous as always, Libby,” She teases.

I wave away the compliment. “Nothing compares to you, Love,” I offer my hand.

She takes it and we swirl into the shadows before reappearing in the building. I break away from her to see Carmilla.

“Marionette,” She greets. “Long time no see.”

“Apologies,” I smile. “I’ve been busy.”

Zestial greets me and I do the same. “I hear you sent a direct invitation to Alastor,” he says to her.

She raises an eyebrow. “No one said he can’t come to these meetings.”

I nod. “He is an overlord, and as such has the same duties as us.”

Carmilla sets down a clipboard and turns to the table. “All right!”

I settle beside her and look at the filled seats that were all turned to three empty seats. I raise an eyebrow in amusement and exchange looks with Carmilla who clears her throat and begins the rather short list of deaths.

“Overall I think not much has changed since last year,” She shrugs. “No one has anything to add?”

When no one does, she drops her gavel and I pout. “I thought Vox would be here.”

“I told him not to come,” Carmilla says offhandedly, when she catches my disappointment. “What? You and him have been beefing for years.”

“Yes but I was looking for some drama with him and the Radio Demon,” I sigh. “Only reason I come to these things anymore.”

She gives me an odd look. “You don’t come to these things.”

I shrug and look around for Rosie. When I do, I beam and walk over to her. “This was disappointing,” I sigh.

“Oh Libby!” She clutched my arm and spun me around. “Alastor, this is Liviana.”

Alastor’s trademark smile stretches slightly. “We’ve met.”

I hum and hold out my hand. “I do hope I didn’t do too much damage.”

“Not at all,” he takes my hand and we both smile.

Mine was so practiced and sickly sweet, and his was threatening and intimidating. Rosie watched us warily, realizing what may have happened.

“Vee’s were a no show,” She commented.

I took my hand back and crossed my arms. “Of course not, Vox will say they had meetings but I know he just doesn’t want to get beat again.”

She sighed and shook her head. “You warned him.”

I laughed and patted her shoulder while turning away. “That I did, see you around, Love. And you Alastor,” I gave him a polite half wave before whirling into a tornado of shadows and reappearing in my office.

“Indara,” I call out the door. “Can I have you order a box of fried dough from New Orleans to be sent to the radio tower? Sign my name on it as well.”

I felt his presence before I got the call.

“Milady, the-”

“Have someone bring him up here,” I said into the speaker on the wall. “And have someone bring tea as well, thank you.”

I stood from my desk and walked to a closet I had in my office, I went through a filing cabinet and whistled an aimless tune.

“Ma’am,” One of my staff greeted me, setting down my tea, I smiled and thanked him.

Static filled the air and I patted my hair down with a frown.

“I didn’t take you as the kind to send threats!”

I chuckle and toss a file on my desk. “That’s because I’m not,” I gave him a curious look. “Did I guess right? Your accent is warped slightly so I took a gamble.”

Alastor watched me as I moved around my office, doing work as if he wasn’t there. “You were correct, my dear..”

“These are new floors so I would refrain from any tentacle monsters in here please,” I tease lightly as I walk around my desk and over to the two loveseats. “Tea?”

He nodded and sat across from me. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “How so?”

“This,” He taps his cup and sips his drink. “Hospitality that I see from this side of hell.”

I set down my cup and cross my legs. “You mean Rosie and I.”

“Indeed,” His claws dig into the black upholstery. “It was my understanding that you were the most…intimidating of all the overlords.”

“All of us hope we’re the most intimidating,” I tell him. “I’ve just been around longer so there’s more rumors about me floating around.”

A studio audience laugh echoes through his microphone. “My dear you don’t look a day over 25!”

I scrunch my nose and sip my drink. “Thank you, I suppose.”

“You truly must tell me where you purchased those baked goods,” He told me, wistfully. “They tasted fresh baked from home.”

“I had an imp order from the surface then take it down here,” I say. “I can ask which bakery if you’d like.”

He beamed. “That would be helpful, thank you.”

I smile genuinely. “I’m glad you came, however I do have a meeting with a certain TV demon that neither of us are fond of.”

Alastor’s static made a screeching sound and stood up. “Ah yes, Vox was his name?” When I nod he continues. “He has made it some sort of mission to get me in his merry band.”

“Bloody hell,” I sigh, rubbing my nose. “He’s a fool, I keep him around for his influence.”

“I’m off to meet Rosie for lunch,” He cheers.

I beam and turn to him. “Give her my warmest wishes.”

“That I will.”

When he leaves, my assistant walks in and sets down a file I had asked for earlier. “Ma’am?” I hum and look up at them. “If I may– why did you forgive him so easily?”

I tap my nails to the table. “I suppose I’m a believer in second chances.”

This is so self indulgent lmfao, I'm really just testing out a few different things and this is what came of it. Tell me if you like this or want me to continue it, ik I tend to leave fics hanging but I do try I swear.

Tell me if you want to be tagged as well!

#oc #fanfiction #oc fanfiction #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #the radio demon #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #self indulgent #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing

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saltsicklover · 1 year ago

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Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part One of Two

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Creepy Dude, Rhett and Jake rescue reader, one use of Y/N, airports and flying, argument, nothing too crazy, angst

---

To all the people that said finding their soulmate was just so easy, and that they didn't even have to look deserve a giant middle finger shoved right into their face. After all, sometimes people's soulmates just fall right into their fucking laps like the divine are throwing them a goddamn bone.

Most of us have to earn the privilege of finding our soulmates. You would think that the universe would have come up with a better system, some way to be sure that you've found exactly who you're supposed to. But it's truly fucking coincidence.

What a goddamn pain in the ass.

Those little words scripted onto skin give only a hint, a shred of an idea that comes with far too much hope and no direction.

In a perfect world, that script would glow when you find your person, or maybe your person would be the one to say them. Maybe there'd be a way to just know that you've found your other half. Maybe the universe could've bloomed with color upon first contact, the whole world coming to life around you. Hell, maybe the fucking ink would itch when you came close, or, maybe it could turn colors, burning like a cinder straight to the skin.

It could have been a name, or map quadrants, an number even...

But no.

All we get is the first thing someone else in our earshot says about our other half. It could be anyone, really, family and friends, lovers or enemies. The universe doesn't care, like it's all one big cosmic joke.

And if you get stuck with something common? You're pretty much royally fucked.

The amount of sorry souls who are stuck with "oh, he's a great guy," or "she's so pretty!" Have to live with hearing that damn phrase over and over again, just hoping that maybe it will lead them in the right direction.

It's sick, really, the whole goddamn thing. Especially because I want nothing else.

"Oh, it's just Bob," is etched deep into my skin, the little letters marking over my collar bone like it's laced with disappointment. There's something about the word "just" that make's me clench my jaw. I can feel the muscle tick as I grind my teeth against each other, feeling the ridges catch.

Whoever Bob is sure as hell isn't just anything. He is everything, and the unlucky bastard who dares say anything different has a swift right hook in their future, or maybe a hard shove, if the mood strikes. Anything that might take the edge off.

Though I haven't met Bob yet, I feel fiercely protective over him, over the way others see him. After all, his heart is worth more than words like "just".

The airport is just a little too dead for 3am, a few too few people ambling around half awake. Those who are here wear dark bags under their eyes, snuggled deep into their jackets to keep the too cold air conditioning from hitting their bare skin. Some pull luggage behind them, kicking it at they go, getting more and more pissed off every time their heel catches on their suitcase. Others talk too loudly on the phone, their cell's pressed to their cheeks by shoulders, by hands, others taking through their headsets.

A sharply dressed man, clad in a brown suit and loafers argues with a woman in a language I don't speak. She is pointing at the board with a well polished fingernail, one that matches her power suit, while the man is shoving his phone into her face. It's obvious they are arguing about their flight, but neither of them seem to budge on their side.

It's comical, really, how animated they are. I wonder if they are soulmates, if they found each other out if the sheer passion and dedication they are displaying. After all, if one has this much passion for a flight, it would only stand to reason that the business of finding their soulmate would be met with equal fever. They are a good match, too. The universe doesn't always deal out people who look like they should be together. Aesthetics clash, personalities not quite off set. But these two just have an air about them- like they belong; also like they are going to miss their flight.

I pass them as quickly as I can, as the anger rolls off of them. It's much too late, or maybe much too early to witness such an argument, and I have to make it all the way down to gate 93. With each step, my duffle bag seems to get heavier, no doubt taking after my eyelids.

Whoever designed the Dallas airport needs to be given some sort of medal for "longest hallways that seem to lead nowhere". With every turn I take I feel like I'm headed further away, but the signs keep pushing me forward.

Almost there, almost there.

Gate 88 and Gate 89.

Gate 90.

As I walk by Gate 91, I catch two men laying on the dirty carpet in front of the lines of chairs. Their forms stand out against the oddly patterned carpet, though they almost look like they belong there. They are waiting in front of a gate that reads no destination. I know I shouldn't stare, but I can't seem to stop the slowing of my feet. I slide one side off my headphones back off of my ear, doing my best to be inconspicuous. I hope to catch a word, a whisper of what they might be saying but their lips are sealed, it seems, neither one saying a thing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I take in their position on the ground. One has a cowboy hat pulled down over his face to try and keep the buzzing fluorescents out of his eyes. His head is balanced on a small duffle bag, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His hands sit on his stomach, fingers laced together. His skin is golden, one of those tans you get from being stuck outside day after day.

He doesn't move a muscle. It barely looks like he's breathing, really. There's something a bit eerie about it, the stillness of him.

The other man, blond with a cropped haircut and equally bronzed skin sits on the ground a few feet from the other. His back is leaned up against the side of a chair, his knees bent. He looks equally exhausted, eyes closed, head leaned back exposing the long line of his neck.

He shivers a bit, the wholeness of it rolling through his body. Though he keeps his eyes closed, his expression scrunches before relaxing again. He doesn't look even remotely comfortable, unlike his stony counterpart.

The pair have very different looks about them, the former all home grown cowboy with still muddy boots while the ladder is clean cut and chiseled. The blond has his hands shoved into the large pocket on the front of his hoodie, trying to starve off the chill that hangs in the terminal.

Not soulmates, that's for sure. Over the years, I have been able to pick out soulmates from just a few calculated but fleeting glances. There's always something about a pair that just reads right, a vibe that they give off when they are finally buzzing together. But one thing is for sure, these two aren't soulmates, the fact that they're even friends feels funny.

It's not an impossible fact, to be sure. The predestined soul mate, the way it's written into the universe, could be anyone. That's part of the difficulty of it, for sure, but there's always something that seems to click. Souls are like metronomes, clicking away, othering ticking, always out of time; until the right person comes along and you're right on time with each other. With this pair, they are just a little too jagged around the edges, too seasoned in their own rights to slot together. Friendship is different- nothing knit into the weave of the universe, there, though it may have been easier if it were.

The moment I make it to my gate, I throw my bag down, by body feeling a bit too much like jelly from all of the travel to hold it any longer. The men are just a gate down, living in their own little bubble. I can't fight the smile that blooms across my face. There's that word, about knowing everyone has their own lives, their own loves. Sonder, I think it is, and in this moment it washes over me.

"Hey," A voice rings out through the quiet of the terminal, over the loudness of my mind. I look up, my eyes meeting a man who must be in his later forties. He's balding on top, glasses shoved awkwardly onto the bridge of his nose. His clothes are a mismatch of dressy and unkempt. A suit jacket thrown over his hoodie, a pair of pajama pants adorning his bottom half. The whole ensemble is wrapped up with the cowboy hat sitting on the chair next to him, crocs on his feet.

"Hi," I nod more than speak, a strange feeling blooming in the pit of my stomach. This is not a man I care to be around. If I keep my eyes down, hands busy, maybe he will get the message.

"Why don't you sit down and we'll have a chat," There's a sort of greasy smile that spreads across his face. A shudder dances down my spine at the sight, gooseflesh breaking out over my already cold body. The feeling of them breathing to life makes my skin go almost clammy, an uncomfortable feeling under my warm layers.

"No, thank you," The answer is curt as I push my duffle just a little further away with my foot. It drags against the well walked carpet, the sound it makes echoing the one in my chest. It's a sort of stuck sensation, what it morphs into, one that I feel with my whole body.

"Oh, come on, what's a little chat going to hurt?" The man tries again, leaning closer to me, sliding to the seat next to him. We are no further apart now than when we started. My foot meets the side of my duffle again, ready to push it once more. Each little move he makes my eyes train on, from the way his hand curls around the armrest to the way he seems to be peering, leering, over the tops of his too thick glasses.

"Nope," I pop the 'P', waving my hand a bit, "I'm not entertaining this any longer."

I stoop down to grab my headphones from my bag, only to have the strange man's hand appear in front of me as he is reaching too. The step back I take is almost involuntary, more focused on getting away from his incoming touch than my things now sitting in between us. The glare I send the man is lacking due to the bubbling fear popping in my chest. I place my headphones around my neck in a shallow attempt to keep my hands from shaking.

"Oh come on sweet-"

"Tommy Grace! There ya'are! Ya'walked right past us, girl," An arm is thrown around my shoulder, warm and lean. I shift my eyes over quickly, mind and body shooting from high alert to a sort of easy when I see the cowboy from the gate over, now standing to my side, folding me protectively under his arm. The feeling of being protected shouldn't feel quite so strong coming from a stranger. However, the way he keeps his hand right atop the cap of my shoulder, his heartbeat thrumming against my other shoulder just bleeds that feeling.

"Oh! Seriously? You must've been hiding," I do my best to play along, instantly feeling a little more at ease as the man across from us looks less so. I can't help but revel in the uncomfortable look on the greasy man's face, as well as the warmth pouring from the cowboy.

"Is this guy a friend o'yers?" The cowboy asks, looking at the man from under the brim of his hat. I can feel the way the pads of his fingers dig into the muscle of my arm, each finger individually curling into the thickness there. It doesn't hurt. Instead it's a grounding point, from him to me and back again. Two strangers bound together if only for a moment.

"Oh, no, we've never met before," I tell him, gazing up at his face. The scruff of his cheek is fuller at this angle, the defined slope of his jaw easily tracible with my eyes. He's handsome from this angle, which I bet means he's even better looking from head on.

"I see, well," The cowboy narrows his eyes, "Your brother'sa waitin' and y'know how Jake gets,"

"Boy do I," I chuckle from the safety of his embrace, throwing a sideways glance to the man who seems to be in some sort of staring match with the cowboy. Their eyes are trained on each other, fighting for dominance over the situation. From the way the greasy man's eye twitches slightly, I know the cowboy must be winning.

"Go on an' see 'em, I'll grab your bag," He is pushing me towards the other gate, a warm palm between my shoulder blades. It's not a hard shove, but the way his hand is pressed firm to my back gives me a clue on just how quickly I need to get out of there. The cowboy shoots me a wink before turning back to the strange man, his eyes narrowing again.

I don't want to see the look in his eye when it's turned on the greasy stranger. I can imagine just how dark those blue green eyes could tint given the right amount of rage flowing behind them. So, I keep my eyes forward, keep focused on just where I'm headed.

Quickly, I make my way over to the now standing blond, Jake. The moment his eyes meet mine he is smiling, the kind of smile that instantly eases my nerves. I wave a bit, my hand not making it any higher than my midsection. I can't help but feel the same tiredness in my limbs that I see in his eyes. There is something weighing us both down, and something tells me it's more than just the travel. More than the overly saturated interactions with strangers and flight attendant served booze.

The moment I'm in earshot, he's already saying hello, opening his arms wide for me. I step into his space, wrapping my arms around his middle. Carefully, almost too lightly, the blond is wrapping his arms around me. It's one of those hugs- the kind you give that estranged relative at Thanksgiving. It's a tad bit awkward from my end, but Jake squeezed me just a little bit tighter as relax against his broad frame and I can't fight the urge to press my face into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

"Thank you," I mumble into his sweatshirt. As I pull back, the blond squeezes my shoulders quickly, a quiet "you're welcome" in return. I peer up at the tall blond, taking in the gentle curves of his smile lines, how they frame his headstone like teeth, polished white and perfectly straight. His tongue flicks over the corner of his mouth, eyes positioned somewhere behind me.

There is something in that look of his, something playing behind the sea glass tint of his irises. It's a sort of mirth, if mirth was more gentle than the definition explains. Maybe it's a fondness for the other man, one that's hidden behind layers of faux dislike and teasing. The pair bonded together as brothers are, all bemused, an oath, blood of the covenant, that they don't remember taking.

As I turn to follow his eyeline, Jake folds me carefully under his arm just as the cowboy had before. Maybe their friendship is stronger than I had originally thought. The way they seem to work in unison to the very clear way they've each folded me into the safety of their embrace. It's different with Jake though. He's more calm, his heartbeat isn't hammering out of his chest. I can scarlessly feel it where our bodies are pressed together.

"Does he do this kind of thing often?" There's a sideways glance shared between us before Jake's chest raddles with a light chuckle. It awakens him just a bit behind the eyes.

"Yes, but we usually know the girl," The humor in his voice makes the anxiety in my stomach settle a bit. His voice is too warm, too kind to elicit anything but safety in this moment.

I can feel the small smile ghosting over my lips, the image of the pair many years younger fluttering through my brain. The cowboy and Jake, rescuing girls in the school hallways, folding innocent girls, with glasses and hair pulled back into tidy braids, into their embrace. There's a sort of teamwork in the way it all went down today, through I missed the progression. From the moment the cowboy tucked my body into his, the intense hammering of his own heartbeat be damned, to the way Jake greeted me with literal open arms. There's so much warmth here.

"And he'd not your soulmate," It's a statement, plain and simple. That get's him laughing for real this time, his whole face coming to life from how his smile overtakes his expression.

"Not remotely," The words make it out a moment later as Jake still fights a bit to catch his breath. "We grew up near each other, down the same county road just outside a forgettable town here in Texas,"

"Escaping while you still can?" I chide, nudging him with my elbow.

"I escaped a long time ago," Jake corrects, a small shrug pulls away his body heat for just a moment before it returns.

"But you're back?"

"Rhett and I are headed to California," The explanation comes easy, and for a moment I wonder why he's even explaining it all to me, but I am thankful to know the real name of the cowboy, "He's helping get me settled in Miramar, new permanent station,"

"Station? Does that make you Army?"

There's that laugh again.

"Naval Aviator," There's no sharpness in the correction, as cocky as it is.

"Wouldn't it be a new port for you then, Sailor?" I nudge him again, playfully. There is something so easy about talking to Jake, his arm folding me into his warmth. Something truly sibling like about it, my place here under his sturdy frame. His protective nature and warm smile, a sort of family for just a few fleeting moments.

"I guess you're right," There's a tad bit of humor in that sentence, but it's hiding behind the tiredness layered in his voice.

"Wait, did you say Naval Aviator?" I look up at him so directly, eyebrows pulled tightly together as I fight to keep a smile off of my lips. "And you're going to Miramar?"

I watch as he pulls his own well groomed eyebrows together in a furrow, his lips curving into a ghost of a frown.

"Yes, Ma'am,"

I can't fight the laugh that bubbles past my lips, the whole thing sounding a bit too sharp, a bit too loud. Where most men are put off by the sound, Jake just looks at me with curious eyes. His tongue flicks over the corner of his slightly upturned mouth, that grin silently begging for me to continue.

"What're you lot laughin' bout?" Rhett calls out, his voice filling my ears.

"Well, turns out my brother," I wink at Rhett now, turning my attention his way, "works under my father,"

If the progression of thought could be clearly mapped through faces with flicks of tongues and furrowing of brows, the pair would have told a whole story in the matter of seconds, of squinted eyes and the pursing of lips.

"Your father?" The pair speak in unison, accents blending together. I can't help but laugh as I flick my eyes between them. Both wear a sort of confused expression, bemused with eyebrows scrunched together, head tilting just so.

"Yes, my father. Rear Admiral Simpson?" I offer the name as a sort of clarification, though it comes out as a question. Rhett's eyebrows knit together a little tighter, eyes darting to Jake for assurance, or maybe it's confirmation. Jake's eyebrows are raised, his mouth slightly agape by the time my gaze slips back over him.

"You're Cyclone's kid?" There's more to it, from the way his mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he catches the tip of his tongue between his perfect front teeth. "Are you Arrow?"

"Oh, hell no!" I can't hold back the laughter, my cheeks no doubt pinking up from the way my smile pushes them out, "That's my older brother, Anthony! He's an Aviator too, hoping to get selected for Top Gun any day now... Though I doubt that they'll send him anytime soon with Dad stationed there,"

Rhett's arms are crossed over his chest, his eyebrows no less furrowed than before. Jake's expression is still scrunched up a bit, but the lines are slowly relaxing with the more information he gets, so I continue.

"My name is Y/N Simpson, but everyone calls me Birdie," I hold my hand out first to Rhett, as I'm still tucked close to Jake, his arm slung over my shoulders.

"Birdie, is'a pleasure," Rhett removes his hat with one hand, shaking my outstretched one with the other. He gives it a quick squeeze before letting go, a kind smile on his face.

"Birdie?" Jake asks, tip of his tongue snug in the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, Birdie. You know, Cyclone, Arrow, Birdie, all things that have to do with wind and flying? My dad and brother both got call signs, but I had zero interest in doing anything with the military, but Uncle Solo dubbed me Birdie when I was tiny and it's stuck ever since."

"Solo? Is'e Navy too?" Rhett chimes in. He scratches at the back of his head, his hat tipping forward into his eyes a bit.

"Sure is. Admiral Solomon Bates, goes by Warlock," Jake stiffens a bit at the name, but relaxes a bit soon after. I bump his hip with my own, shooting a wink up his way.

"Well then, Birdie, it's nice to officially meet you," It's a bad recovery, but he clears his throat and keeps speaking, "I've gotta say, your dad didn't mention he had a daughter,"

"Oh yeah, that's not at all a surprise. You know how Sailors can be, and my Dad is a bit over protective of me. He's big on me keeping men at a distance. And if said man is Military? Ha! Not an ice cubes chance in hell that they'd make it within a hundred feet of me,"

Rhett smirks a bit, eyes flicking from my own glare down towards the floor. I know Jake's arm is still wrapped around my shoulder, just as I know that he is still sparing quick glances over to the greasy man a few yards away. I kick the toe of Rhett's boot with my own, wrinkling my nose at the way he snickers.

"So no soulmate yet?" Jake asks, tilting his chin down to look me in the eye. The question is so full of genuine curiosity and for once I don't feel terrible answering.

"Nope, not yet. Not even a damn lead, but that's okay. I'm a firm believer that it's going to happen when it's supposed to. I'm not in a rush," That last part may be a bit of a lie. I want nothing more than to finally meet the person that's supposed to be mine, mind, body, and soul. Their supposed to be this sort of connection, one that most people who have met their soulmate have only been able to hint at. It's one of those things where words just don't do it justice, even the great poets seem to have failed to find the words.

"Tha's too bad, 'cause I'd've jumped at the chance to take ya ta dinner," Rhett shoots me a wink, his blue eyes twinkling under the stark white lights.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I jest, sticking my tongue out at him. There's another nudge between boots.

"Oh, he does, but he sure does have a knack for finding the prettiest ones," Jake interjects, bumping my hip with his own. I push him back with my shoulder, causing him to finally drop his arm he's had draped around me for the better part of the last twenty minutes.

"Whatever you say," I roll my eyes, "What about you boys, either of you found your better half?"

The way Jake's face lights up at the question gives me the answer before his words can. Rhett is just shaking his head, mumbling a "here we go" under his breath.

"I sure have! Rooster, he's an Aviator too," Jake begins eagerly, "We met like eight years ago? Maybe nine? I'm not sure, but it was in the middle of the ocean on a carrier, and we butted heads better than the best of 'em. I had graduated Top Gun not too long before, and he hadn't been yet, though he went shortly after that deployment. I don't think we would've figured it out if we hadn't decided to-"

"Don't even say it, Seresin," Rhett threatens with a point of his finger, aim fixed right between the taller man's eyes.

"I wasn't gonna go into detail," Jake laughs, though there's a glint of trouble in his eyes, "All I'm saying is that if we hadn't hauled each other into that bathroom stall at the bar and-"

"Flight number 4582, Dallas to San Diego is now boarding Group 1, priority members and military members traveling on active orders," A woman voice crackles through the intercom.

"Saved by the fuckin' bell," Rhett comments loud enough for Jake and I to hear. The boys begin to grab their bags, each only traveling with a small duffle bag. Rhett heads for the gate first, his bag slung over his shoulder, hat in hand. Jake follows after him, his bag clutched tightly in his hand.

"Thanks again you two" I call after them with a little wave. Jake stops in his tracks, turning back around to face me.

"Aren't you coming, Birdie?" There's that cock of his head again.

"Us lowly civilians have to wait until the next group to board," I joke back.

"Not anymore, you're boarding with me, come on!" Then Jake is all but hauling me through the ticket line and onto the plane. Jake throws my carryon into the bin above the row of seats Rhett has claimed and Jake waved me into the same row with a tilt of his head. Without assigned seating, the pair having decided that I'm going to be sitting in the middle seat between them. Maybe I should be more nervous, sitting between two strange men, but sitting here now the only thing I feel is safe.

The whole flight my head switches between resting on either one of their shoulders, sleep evading me completely. I went from tracing the lines of Rhett's hat as it sat atop his knee to counting just how many times Jake bounced his knee.

Part of the way through, he admitted that he's a terrible passenger, had been since he graduated from flight school. Maybe it's a control issue, or maybe it's the surrounding people moving all around the large aircraft. Either way Jake bounces his knee the whole flight. Sometimes he'd wipe his palms down his jean clad thighs to ease the tension and give a slight reprieve to the constant movement.

Rhett snored gently next to me, though he murmured in his sleep just a little. No words ever slipped past his lips, just half cut off sounds and the ghosts of sentiments. He kept his hands folded across his belly, head lulled towards the small window. I hate to admit it, but I admired the long line of his neck as his head was laid against the wall.

Neither man listened to any sort of music during the flight, which struck me as odd. My headphones sat snug over my ears through most of the flight, a folk country playlist thrumming through them.

The flight was fast, in the grand scheme and everyone aboard seemed to be thrilled to get off the plane. This terminal is busier than the last. The early morning traffic of the airport filled with people in suits, both sweat and formal. The boys and I walk side by side by side, making our way through the crowd like a force. Maybe it's the sheer size of the men at my sides, but the crowd seems to part for us.

The trilling of a cellphone breaks up the sounds of the terminal, following us as we walk.

"Jake," Rhett flicks his gaze towards his friend, a silly look on his face.

"What?"

"That's your phone, dude," I nudge him with my shoulder, our bags bumping together. By the time Jake fishes the device from his front pocket, the factory set ringtone has gone silent.

"Eyes up, Cowboy," I warn as we approach the tram. Rhett's eyes flick up just long fast enough that he doesn't trip over the gap. The doors closing behind us quickly, and Rhett bumps into one of the stationary poles in attempt to get out of it's way.

"It truly amazes me that he's a bull rider, since his sense of personal space sucks so bad," Jake mutters, leaning a bit closer to my ear. I can't help but snicker too.

"Bull rider?" The question is met with a nod from Jake as he presses the phone up to his ear.

Jake stands near, phone pressed to his ear with knit brows. The look of concentration on his face is tight, like he's trying to make out a hard to hear piece of information on the other side of the line. He pulls the phone away from his ear as we step off the tram, heading for baggage claim.

They bracket me between them once again, a tall man on each side of me. We share smiles as we walk in time with one another. A little trio formed because one sleazey dude at the Dallas airport couldn't take a hint. Life is funny that way.

They say the universe only hand picks soulmates, decorating skin just to prove that point. I, however, think friends are found in the flick of the same pen. After all, there's magic left over in the spaces between the letters, in the flick of the wrist of the universe. There has to be.

"Long message," Rhett comments, "Who was it anyway?"

"Oh, it's just Bob," Jake informs us. Rhett hums in response, but my feet stop moving. They retreat into the tunnel of my vision, blending in with the other travelers moving around us. Their once recognizable frames, broad and welcoming, melt into the sea of movement. Nothing in my vision sticks out, my brain too busy playing those damn words on loop.

Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob. Oh, it's just Bob.

There's a fleeting feeling in my fingertips from where my bag as slipped from them. There's the far off sound of it hitting the tile. My vision buzzes with people but god, those words are in the forefront of it all.

Oh, it's just Bob.

This moment may be stillness surrounded by the bustle of the San Diego airport. It may be bodies bumping into my own, shoulders connecting as someone passes. It may be one day be a memory of the way my whole body seems to have gone slick with sweat, far too warm and mildly uncomfortable. It may be a realization, both now and in the future. This moment may be the beginning of the rest of my life.

I'm not ready. Not for the future. Not for Bob. Not for facing his friends who must have noticed that I'm no longer by their side by now. I'm not ready for any of it. Not even remotely. I guess it sure wasn't a lie when I told them that I wasn't "in a rush".

The chill of the air hits me as I all but break through the sliding doors, out to the taxi line up. There's shouting, it's far off, covered by those four little words and the beating of my heart. I slide into the back of a taxi, my bag discarded onto the seat next to me. With the slam of the door, the taxi is pulling away from the curb. I press my forehead to the glass of the window, my breath fogging up the sight of Rhett and Jake breaking through the crowd. They stand there, confusion written into their features as they watch the cab pull away.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I squeeze them together. A deep sigh escapes me, the realization hitting me. They know my dad, at least Jake does. And we are all going to Miramar. It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again.

Maybe it wasn't even my Bob, I try and rationalize with myself. After all, how many people in the world are named "Bob" anyway? It's shallow in theory, a sort of knowing feeling sitting heavy in my gut. That was my Bob on the other end of that message; the feeling deep in my chest aches in a way that it just has to be true.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It's only a matter of time before our paths cross again. On base, in the commissary as we grocery shop. Eye contact over fresh produce, hands busy but eyes filled with questions. Or in my father's office, Jake dropping by on business as my dad and I sit on either side of his large desk. Words caught in our throats, my father's gaze wandering between us. Maybe it will be at the bar, our eyes locking from across the room. Questions shouted over the music; over the smell of alcohol.

And maybe Bob would be there too, looking positively like a dream I haven't fully allowed myself to have. He'd be there like the sunshine, glowing and warm and something I just wouldn't be able to outrun. He'd be all smiles and kind hands, wrapping me into his embrace in the same way his friends had.

It's only a matter of time, but I'll run now.

#robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd soulmate au #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x you #jake seresin #rhett abbott #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x you #friend jake seresin #friend rhett abbott #bob floyd angst #saltsickrequests

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hellfirenacht · 11 months ago

Text

Reader ==> Get A Job

START HERE <<-- FIRST CHAPTER HERE

Fic Summary: Through no powers of your own, you end up in Hawkins 1985, in a tv show that you once saw on Netflix. Slow burn, Eddie Munson x Reader will be canon, choose your own adventure to a degree

Recommended Previous Chapter: Reader ==> Move into Benny's

Chapter Summary: You explore Hawkins and find a place to work.

Tags: no warnings needed. Eddie Munson x Reader, references to Flight of Icarus events, no use of y/n

Reader ==> Get A Job

Things were cheaper in 1986, and you had been lucky that the bills you had used to pay for some new clothes and some food had fooled the bored and tired cashiers, but it wasn’t gonna last forever and you needed a way to make money.

With all the walking you had been doing over the week of living at Benny’s, you were sure that within a month you’d have legs of steel. You really should invest in a bike at some point to make this go by faster, but for now it was you and your beat up sneakers that you had thrown on when you had thrown yourself out that window.

Early mornings were spent at the library, using their resources to try and find listings. Without the internet, it was a lot harder to find job listings or really any information. The first priority for yourself was to just learn how to survive without the internet or anything from 2023. Not having a valid ID was the trickiest part to navigate, your current one expired in 2030 and anyone with half a brain here would instantly throw you in jail. You assumed as much anyway.

An afternoon of looking through the papers didn’t do much for you, and the librarian wasn’t the most helpful. You needed to find a way to get a fake ID soon, or you were absolutely boned.

You found yourself walking more through the day, mapping out the town in your mind because you didn’t have a phone to tell you where things were. You had a handful of time appropriate ones that you spent on a cheap meal at a local fast food joint.

There were a few places that you found to be familiar. If you turned left at this street and then a right and then another left you’d be at Hawkin’s Public school, and if you went straight instead you’d end up in Mike’s neighborhood and the pool.

You turned right, expanding your map and unlocking more areas of the town. For saying that it’s a small town, it sure didn’t feel like that on foot. The further you walked in this direction, the less shops were appearing and you found yourself in what you assumed was the edge of town. A large cornfield stretched out as far as you could see, and you were half tempted to grab an ear for the road before remembering you had no way to cook it right now anyway.

The middle of Hawkins, Indiana felt like Anywhere, USA. Here by the cornfield you were now very aware just how mid-western you were. The only buildings around seemed to be factories or abandoned steel mills, and with the sun setting, they cast long shadows along the near abandoned streets.

It was going to be dark soon, and you didn’t have the best confidence that you could make your way back to Benny’s in the dark but there wasn’t much you could do at this point. Besides, it’s not like anyone was waiting up for you, or that you had anywhere to go tomorrow. You didn’t exactly want to be out that late, but being back at Benny’s actually felt worse. You didn’t know if you wanted to spend another night alone like that.

There were a lot of run down and boarded up buildings, and you were about to just turn around when you noticed that one building did have a sign on, flickering weakly in the fading light. THE HIDEOUT. The i in the sign was fighting for its life to stay on.

Fuck it, it’s not like you had anywhere to be tonight. What’s the worst that could happen walking into a shady dive bar at the edge of town with no one knowing where you are and what you’re doing.

The Hideout was a very small building, with bricked windows and no natural light. Inside there was only one person at the bar, and a small older woman behind it. This was definitely not a place that you’d come to socialize, but then again if it was it probably wouldn’t be called ‘the Hideout.’

There was a small alarm bell going off in your mind, but there had been alarm bells going off since you showed up.

The woman behind the bar gave you a cursory nod as you hopped onto the stool. You knew you were over 21 maybe? But you doubted that you’d be able to order an actual drink with your ID. You didn’t even know why you bothered keeping it around, it’s not like it was doing you any good anyway.

You ordered a soda, handing over two crumpled one’s and looked around. The place looked like it was under some sort of permanent construction. A patch of carpet in the corner looked like it was being ripped up, revealing some old wood flooring and there was what looked like a stage pushed against the wall, haphazardly made out of two by fours. It looked like it would fall apart with one wrong move.

“A bunch of kids play up there sometimes when I let ‘em.” the barkeep said, messing with some bottles behind the bar and handing a beer to the man a few seats down from you. Her voice was loud, and it made you jump in surprise that such a small woman could project so hard in such a quiet space.

“Play music?” you asked, turning back to the woman.

“If that’s what they wanna call it.” she shrugged, which made you snort. It felt nice to talk to a real person and not an imaginary one.

“Bunch of damn noise is what it is.” said the other man, taking out a newspaper and flipping through it. .

“This place doesn’t seem like the open mic type.” you said.

“It’s not, but I’m too nice sometimes.” She looked you up and down. “You’re dressed weird.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” you agreed, still unsure how to style yourself in this time and town. Her jab came out as more of an observation than an outright criticism. 80’s adjacent style had been in when you left your own time period, so you probably looked off center of what was expected.

That was the last of the small talk for a while as she left the bar and stepped outside, leaving the place completely unattended. Your drinking buddy wasn’t paying you any mind and you probably came across as someone who wasn’t about to rob the place. You took a sip of your soda, which tasted stale but you get what you pay for in a quiet dive bar like this.

The woman came back just in time for the man to get need another beer and set his newspaper aside, looking more irritated than before and muttering something about horses under his breath.

You took the opportunity to turn to him “Mind if I take a read?” you asked, pointing to the paper and he pushed it towards you without a word and a muttered ‘thanks’ from you.

The whole morning had already been filled with looking over papers and listings for jobs but you might as well check again to see if there was anything you might have missed.

...After checking the funny pages and the entertainment section. You deserved some entertainment, right?

A after a nice half hour of reading the comics and glancing over the astrology section- (‘You are valuing security and comfort in your life. Be patient and it will come’)- you turned back to the job listings, reading the same handful of words over and over again that you’d seen this morning and sighed.

“Lookin’ for a job?” you jumped hearing the woman speak again, her voice was so loud.

“Oh, yeah. I’m trying. I don’t exactly have, uh...” Papers? An identity? Any legal way to work here? “I’m new in town so I don’t have my shit together yet.”

The woman set her bussing tub next to you and looked you over. “Can you bus tables?” she asked, and you responded by placing your empty glass into the tub, which earned a nod from her. “Any hour restrictions?” You shook your head. “What’s your name?” You told her.

“I only pay cash.” she said. “And the hours aren’t great but it’s something.”

“I’ll take it.” you said instantly, heart pounding. Any job was better than no job, and if she was willing to not ask any questions, and pay you under the table you weren’t going to turn your nose up at it. “When can I start?”

As you and the barkeep (who finally introduced herself as Bev) hashed out the details, you felt at least a little bit of weight lift off your shoulders. You’d be working about four nights a week, and she’d pay out on Wednesdays weekly.

“Since you don’t have a phone, let’s just call it Saturday through Tuesday for now.” she said. “Might schedule on Wednesdays if you’re good. That’s when I do fifty cent beer nights and you can make tips well enough.”

Good enough. You’d be there, come hell or high water and shoved a napkin with her name and phone number in your backpack.

“I’ll have Junior train you when he gets here.” Bev said, looking at her watch. “He’ll be here soon. He’s about your age.”

As thankful as you were that you were starting right away, you partially wished that you didn’t have to start after walking around in the Indiana heat and summer all day. You felt gross and like you really needed a shower and you made a mental note to try and sneak into Mike’s house tomorrow to try and shower. You made your way to the bathroom and attempted to clean yourself up a bit for your first night of work.

You could handle bussing tables and serving beer. If there was one thing here you could handle, it was that.

When you exited the bathroom, Bev motioned you behind the bar and handed you an apron and the bus tub. There were a few extra people around now that it was later and you assumed that these blue collar workers were now off for the night in the surrounding factories.

Somewhere in the back, you heard a door close and footsteps approach.

“You’re late, Junior.” Bev said, as you turned towards the door to see your new coworker.

“I told you, Bev, It’s Eddie.”

Oh fuck.

Reader ==> Meet Eddie Munson

He has a pimple on his chin. Was what your brain supplied as your first thought about seeing Eddie Munson in front of you. And he’s not wearing his club shirt.

He didn’t even have a jacket on, which shouldn’t surprise you with it being summer and yet it did. Seeing Eddie in anything other than what you had seen on screen was like a shock to your system.

Your grip on the bus tub was causing your knuckles to turn white as you listened to Eddie tell Bev for what seemed like the hundredth time to not call him Junior.

“Right right, old habits die hard.” Bev said dismissively. “Anyway this is your new co-worker and you’re gonna train her.”

It’s like he didn’t even notice that you were there until Bev pointed it out. Large doe brown eyes looked over at you, and your heart was pounding in your throat for a second. You weren’t ready, you weren’t. Your plan had been to learn to survive here and then try to find a way to deal with canon events.

Eddie’s eyes darted between you and Bev, looking surprised “I didn’t think you were hiring.” he said.

“I’m not, I have you two.” Bev said, ignoring Eddie’s real question which you were sure was something along the lines of What the hell, Bev? You tried not to take it personally. “Anyway, I need to step outside. I’m sure you can show her the ropes.”

Bev then turned and stalked out back, cigarette in hand.

“Uhh... hi.” you said as Eddie turned back to you. You offered up your name and he offered up his. “I take it Bev doesn’t hire often?”

Your fingers were starting to hurt with how hard they were digging into the plastic edges of the tub. He was here, Eddie was right here, and you didn’t know what to do. What could you do? Start yelling about how he was going to die if he ever did a drug deal with a cheerleader?

“No, she rarely accepts help around here.” Eddie said, now turned towards you.

A decision had to be made, and you took every memory you had of Stranger Things Vol. 4 and shoved it in a crumpled heap in the back of your mind. You wouldn’t acknowledge it, you couldn't. There would be a time and place to process this and if you did that right now, you were sure to freak out. Again.

“Guess I’m lucky.” you tried to keep your voice calm, and gave a small cough to cover any wavering.

Eddie reached out and pulled the tub from your vice grip and you rubbed your fingers, thankful you didn’t drop it.

“Lucky? We’ll see how you feel about that after working a few shifts.” he shook his head. “Not many people would consider a part time job in an old dive bar lucky.”

“I have limited options right now.” you explained, following Eddie as he led you around the dining area, the two of you picking up random glasses. “A shady dive bar that doesn’t ask questions and pays under the table is kind of perfect for me right now.”

Did that sound suspicious? Maybe, but it was already out there. To your surprise, Eddie nodded.

“This shithole isn’t much, but it’s one of the few good places around here.” He explained. “It’s the only place in town that has a stage at least.”

Right, of course. You should have put two and two together when Bev mentioned a band playing on occasion. Eddie’s band.

It was actually unnerving how you kept running into characters people you recognized. You had literally run into Steve Harrington and now Eddie Munson while actively trying to avoid them. Someone out there must be fucking with you.

“The stage looks like it’s this close to being more floor.” You said, glancing over at the slight riser against the wall.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, but it holds up surprisingly well. It hasn’t given out on me yet.”

“So, I take it your band is the one Bev was talking about?” You asked, feigning ignorance.

“Corroded Coffin.” he said, reminding you of the name of the band. “We mostly do covers or metal and rock songs but we have a few original songs.” Then, as an afterthought he added “We play on Tuesdays usually. If you were curious.”

You smiled at the can of beer you were crushing and tossing in the bin. There wasn’t anything subtle about the hint he wanted you to come. With how empty the Hideout was, you decided it was less personal and more about him being interested in anyone hearing them play.

“I’ll bring earplugs to my shift then.” you said, glancing at him with a smile that you hoped let him know you were joking.

Thankfully, Eddie laughed at that and led you back to the bar. “Good luck, Bev’s single amp has only two settings, ‘loud’ and ‘louder.’”

“You two better be talking about work and not just socializing.” Bev said as she walked back in.

“Just telling her all about how the Hideout has a long standing history of being a patron of the arts.” Eddie said, giving her a wide smile.

“No, you can’t play on Wednesdays.” Bev said, “Now go get Sam another drink.”

Eddie didn’t seem phased and took the next few minutes to show you the back of the bar and the different beer and handful of mixers.

“I wouldn’t touch any of the sodas, they fell off a truck in ‘82 and I think they expired in ‘79.” He joked.

“Would have been helpful to know about an hour ago.” you replied.

“Don’t worry, you probably won’t get sick off of rum and croak here.” Every time Eddie looked at you, your heart jumped up into your throat.

Self, you gotta chill. Yes, he’s a cute guy doomed by the narrative but that’s no reason to be weird about this. There’s a thousand other reasons to be weird about it. Just pretend he’s not... him... and that he’s just your co-worker. Not real. Not real. Not real.

‘Not real’ was starting to become your survival mantra.

Eddie didn’t offer up too much information about himself and you held back as well. With Bev watching you both like a hawk, there wasn’t a lot of time for small talk except when she went for a smoke break. When it was Eddie’s turn for a smoke break, you declined stepping outside with him, not ready to be alone with him.

Then again, could you confidently say that you’ll be ready for anything now?

As it approached ten, Bev decided to let you go. “No need for you tonight, and Eddie’s given you the rundown. Be back Saturday at 7.” she instructed.

You jotted down the address of the bar and thanked her again, and you looked over at Eddie and gave him as genuine a smile as you could. “Nice meeting you... Eddie.”

Eddie waved you off as he popped open a beer for another patron.

Reader ==> Go Home

You can’t. Home hasn’t even been built yet and you have no idea where it is.

Reader ==> Go Back To Benny’s

You don’t really want to, but you were exhausted and really wanted to go to sleep.

When you stepped outside it was a lot cooler out now that the sun was down and you tried to reorient yourself as to where you were. If you could make it back to town you could probably make your way back to the diner.

There were a few cars in the gravel lot but one stood out; a van.

You should leave it alone.

Reader ==> Check Out Eddie’s Van

You should leave it alone but curiosity got the best of you. You casually made your way over to the van and checked over your shoulder to make sure Eddie wasn’t about to kick down the doors and demand you step away from the vehicle.

When he didn’t you peered in the driver side window. It was dark so you couldn’t get a good look at the inside but you saw a few tapes and fast food wrappers scattered along the front seats. The center console was closed, and the interior of the van looked worn but relatively stain free as far as you could tell.

Slipping around to the side of the van, you peaked in the back windows. The back didn’t have any seats, and seemed pretty empty aside from a backpack, some scattered papers, and more trash.

It was just a van owned by a young adult man. You could have seen this van anywhere and not thought twice about it.

Reader ==> Go Back To Benny’s

It took you a long time to make it back in the dark, but you finally slipped in the back door of the diner, checking around the building once for safety, before finally collapsing on your futon as passing out, digesting the events of the day,

----

Tumblr User ==> Leave A Prompt

RULES

-I’m not writing in a liner way

- Current timeline I’m wanting to write is between August-December 1985. We will get to ‘86 later

-You can suggest reader do anything, there is no guarantee that I will pick your prompt!

-Prompts must be submitted through ask, as “READER => Do something” If you know, you know.

-Reader is a weirdo, a freak, and is not shy or popular. Reader probably has really bad ADHD.

-If I need to add more rules I will, if I change rules that’s allowed because it’s my fic

#nacht fic #Isekai Chronicles #eddie munson x reader

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gingerlurk · 1 year ago

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Lovers' Crest | Chapter 2: The Mechanic

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Summary: You get to know the Crest, surprising the hell out of your host.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, Reader has hair long enough for a braid. uhhhh please advise if there's more to add here thank you

A/N: Hi! To say again, I am completely new here. I am just a struggling writer with a brittle heart and this little story has lifted me out of a block the size of a small moon (that's no moon). Here on A03, I just got encouraged to share here. And in terms of Star Wars canon and mechanics stuff, I'm just making it up, friends. Hoping it's still a fun story like its inspo.

‘Dank farrik,’ he – Mando – mutters, punching at the pad until it lights up.

The ship had been cruising at sublight for a while, you assume so that your pilot could chart out courses or whatever. Navigation was never your strong suit.

‘I will need to make a stop,’ he says. It’s not apparent whether he’s talking to you or himself. ‘These blast corners are not going to last the journey.’

You sit up. What are you doing? You ask, ‘Do you have the parts?’

‘Yes,’ he says absently. ‘But it is a specialised process. In cases like this, I take the Crest to a dock.’

‘I could replace them.’ Shut up.

He doesn’t register you for a long beat. Then looks over his shoulder. ‘What?’

‘I can replace them for you.’ You can’t stop yourself.

‘And you know,’ your eyes roll around the cockpit. Why are you about to say this? Keep it to yourself. But you’d been noting little things to keep yourself occupied and, for some reason you don’t scrutinise too closely, you want to let this guy see you for who you are.

‘That transition from atmo would go a lot smoother if your power didn’t have to divert through the drag shafts. A little rigging, a simple program, and it can pass straight through the core. Smooth as.’

His whole upper body turns toward you.

‘And,’ you lean forward, ‘I bet those thrusters were last serviced on Navarro?’

A heavy pause.

‘They were.’

You sniff, knowingly. ‘Don’t get me wrong – can’t fault those mechanics much – but for some reason they insist on four cylinders for every row. Is it cultural? I don’t know. But it just gums up the rotation. You only need two.’

Finally, he rotates his chair, facing you. He leans forward on his elbows.

‘How do you know all this?’ You hear what he doesn’t verbalise, You’re a wealthy, spoiled heiress who’s never known a day’s work.

You just keep a level look on your face. ‘I’d rather keep that to myself, if it’s all the same. Cards close to the chest and all that. But I can be more helpful than just sitting here. I can help out around here, show your ship some love.’

He huffs and leans back. ‘Right.’ He turns back to the console.

‘Okay,’ he comes to a decision. ‘I have to pick someone up anyway. We will land and you can make the replacements while I retrieve him.’ You’re wondering to yourself who this ‘him’ is when Mando spins back around, you jump a little. His voice is fierce. ‘But if you mess up my ship, I will leave you on the most backwater planet I can find. And Mandalorians have extensive nav maps.’

He turns.

Mandalorians? Hm.

The sense of relief felt at seeing the child Grogu again is still thrilling to the buttoned up Mandalorian. The kid is cooing in Peli’s embrace, who in turn chatters away. But the moment he clocks Din walking toward him, the child reaches up and – whoosh – is in his arms again.

‘Hi Grogu,’ Din’s smiling behind the mask, ‘were you good?’

‘Total angel!’ Peli shouts. ‘Bye baby!’

When he returns to the ship an hour later, with provisions and a babbling kid, he’s expecting to see you fumbling around an input hatch. But you’re nowhere to be seen.

Din turns to his son. ‘Grogu, there is a person on the ship. I am confident she is no threat to us, so do not worry, but please play nice.’

The baby squints and blows a mischievous little raspberry. Din sighs, oh well.

But where were you? Hells, if he’s lost her already…

He scans the hatches that house the blast corners; they are all neatly clipped in place. Even the one that had always stuck out a bit and would rattle in dodgy atmo entry was sealed flush against the hull.

He frowns.

On entering the ship, he hears the quiet hiss of the fresher. She’s helped herself to his amenities? Damn Maker, he thinks. His resentment lessens considerably though when he drops into his cockpit chair, the child wandering up behind him, and engages the test switch for the blasts. The light flips on instantly. The diagnostic scans green. The diagnostic never scans green.

He’s staring so hard at the panel that your bright ‘Hey!’ from behind makes him jolt.

You’re pulling damp hair into a loose side braid, strolling into his space.

‘Sorry, that was oily work and I figured a wash up was a fair trade,’ you’re saying. You seem like you’ll go on but you trail off when you spot Grogu, who for his part is giving you his most doe-like, glossy-eyed stare. ‘Hi there…’

But Din’s distracted. She’d changed all four corners with enough time to spare for a jet stream? And they were responding better than they ever had? In the whole time he’s owned the Crest?

‘Woooo, hahaha, oh wow you’re a cutie!’

Your voice brings him back to himself and he’s stunned again to see you kneeling by Grogu, the both of you laughing and playful as you swing the bottom of your braid while he tries to catch it. The kid’s giggling.

Grogu catches your braid, you let him, and toys at it tentatively, cooing away. You look up at Din, smiling.

‘This who you had to pick up?’

‘Yes,’ Din barely gets the words out. ‘This is my son, Grogu.’

You look back to the gremlin who has your hair. ‘Hi Grogu, charming name you have.’

Grogu looks up at you with a happy ‘ahh!’ and drops your braid.

Din doesn’t know how to feel about any of this.

The innocuous little light blips in his palm. He glares at the fob while an internal battle rages. It is a bad idea, but Din knows in his gut he probably won’t get a better opportunity than this one. A huge bounty so elusive he’d been carrying the damn – infuriatingly silent – fob with him for an age.

Now here it was, blinking to life. He looks over at you.

You’re snoozing in the flight chair, elbow crooked on the arm rest and knees tucked in. He’s remained perplexed by how at home you’ve looked on his ship. Not only that, you’re a savant with the thing. You’d made good on adjusting the exit power flow already, and the Crest was practically singing for it.

You’re nothing like what he was expecting. But you were still a job he had to finish. No question there.

This bounty though…

As if sensing his fitful inner conflict, you stir. Rolling your head up and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you hum to yourself.

‘Mm, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to doze off there,’ you say, sitting straight. You take in the ship’s stationary mooring, systems in standby. ‘Where are we?’

‘Nowhere special,’ he says. ‘But…’

You clock the blinking fob he’s holding. ‘Ooh, that a job?’

You seem… all lit up by it, Din thinks. Worlds but you are strange.

Without any real fight left, the war inside him ebbs and he gives in to the pull.

‘It is, a big one,’ he holds out the fob. ‘It’s not far from here, and should not take me long. I will lock down the ship; you will be completely safe.’

You sit forward. ‘I could come with,’ you say, eagerness in your voice.

‘Absolutely not!’ He stands, scandalised by the idea. ‘You will stay here, in the cockpit, until I return.’

He may have laced his tone with too much menace, because you lean back in the chair and drop your gaze.

Regretting it, he sighs and drops back into his flight seat, turning to the controls. ‘Your safety is more important,’ he whispers. You stay quiet on the descent and landing.

It’s only when Din summons Grogu to his side as he readies that you speak up.

‘You’re taking him?’ you exclaim. ‘Your kid?’

‘He is in training,’ Din says, offering no further explanation. Grogu, for his part, wanders over to you, babbling away. He reaches up and touches your knee; you lean down and scratch his ear, mumbling something like ‘keep him out of trouble then, hm?’

Din takes in the scene, something pricking at his chest.

‘Grogu, let’s go.’ He turns and knows the child will follow.

Just this job, he tells himself. Then he’ll take her home.

- -

Listening to the whir and grind of so many locking mechanisms engage and clunk into place settles a weary sense of dread over you. You’ve been here before, stripped of volition and made to stay in place.

You decide to be bored and restless instead of anxious and afraid.

Looking about the tiny space, your eyes land on the code pad by the door. You’d noticed the release switch catches a little, and Mando has to jab at it twice or thrice each time it’s used. You can fix that.

Casting about, you find a little stash of tools under Mando’s seat. Perfect.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take much time and you end up dithering a little, readjusting the light sensor as well so it actually responds to input.

Just as you’re tucking the pad’s cover back into place, a long slick of ice slides down your spine as the ship groans. The lockdown is disengaging.

‘He can’t have been that quick,’ you say aloud.

You move to the front of the ship and spot two gruff and burly henchmen striding toward the Crest. A glance at the ship HUD shows the ramp to the hold gliding open, lowering steadily to let the invaders inside.

‘How’d you get onto this ship,’ you spit a few minutes later, wiping a bound wrist at your bloodied lip.

Your dazed victim grunts and rolls his head from left shoulder to right. From his place crumpled against the wall, he looks over to his unconscious companion and then up at you. ‘Fuck you, bi—’

You slam onto your knees across his hips, lock your hands together and swing them across his face. Gods it hurts, you’re not usually a puncher. But your hackles are raised and you know something is badly wrong.

Lucky for your almost lacerated knuckles he gives up immediately.

Hands fly into the air. ‘It’s a trap!’ he yelps. ‘An- a- an- ambush! Cephlate knew he would come. He hates Mando. Wants- wants to end him. He’s got tech to control the ship and he’s going to lure him into—’

You hit his carotid artery and he’s lights out. Time’s up. You surge to your feet and move.

Everything had been going wrong since the second he’d breached the perimeter. There were more enemies than he was expecting. They had better weapons than he’d anticipated, fucking artillery. He and Grogu had worked as a team as best they could, but the forces were overwhelming.

He hadn’t even had time to zero in on that stupid fucking warlord. Hunched behind a low building, he scans the hacked layout of the base via the holo of his vambrace. He spots a building built like a bunker and, thank the Maker, underground access – a tunnel that barrels off the edge of the plans, presumably out of this hellish place.

It’s fine, he’ll get back to his ship and come back ready for war.

‘Let’s go kid!’ He shouts and he sprints for the doors. Grogu follows, leaping from cover point to cover point.

Wrenching the doors aside just enough for the two of them to slip in, he jams a vambrace against the control pad and programs them to seal. Twisting to lean back against the wall, he surveys the room and his heart stops. He swears he is hallucinating.

Din stalks forward and leans over the rack of servers.

‘What are you doing here?’ he hisses at you, crouched as you are by an open panel bristling with cables and blinking lights. You’re holding some complicated looking motherbank. ‘I told you to stay on the ship.’

You take a handful of wires and reef them from the bank.

‘Yeah, well,’ you say, not looking up. ‘Couple uninvited guests dropped in and told me about this.’ You shake the device in his visored face.

‘Uninvited what?’ He checks behind him, unholsters his blaster.

‘Guests. Couple of your quarry dearest’s goons.’

Din is speechless, then, ‘How’d they get inside the Crest? Ground security was active.’ A massive boom rings against the sealed doors.

‘Because of this.’ You shake the object again, pulling a tiny pair of pliers – his pliers? – from a pocket and poking inside it.

‘What—’

‘Traction lock. Writ large. And I mean large. Look at this place.’ You wave a hand around. ‘Could take total control of like, an Imperial battleship with this setup.’

Din’s in shock, barely taking anything in. Who are you? He gives himself a shake and snaps back into focus, looking at their surroundings and assessing the best way to deal with the incoming ambush.

‘I’m decoupling your ship’s code from his systems,’ you’re saying. ‘Although it would go a lot quicker if,’ you raise your bound wrists. He notices them for the first time and leans down to cut them free.

‘Hss, thank you,’ you say, going back to work and taking a few more moments before dropping the messy bundle of tech to stand.

‘Done,’ you chirp.

‘How did your hands end up…’ Din gestures.

‘Bit of a story on my way in,’ you say. ‘These guys have the weirdest weapons—’ You’re cut off.

- -

The doors separate and the room erupts in screaming red. You gasp as you’re picked up and flung against the wall. A heaviness lands on your chest and your vision is obscured by black and chrome crowding you in. You take in what’s happening.

His body shields you from the pulse probe that had just been tossed into the room. His torso is flush to yours. The helmet tilts up and bumps the crown of your head. You’re completely covered by his broad form. As the pulse fades, boots thunder on the deck toward the opening. For one, barely there fraction of a second, your hips press together as he abruptly shifts and hefts you back behind the bank of servers.

‘Stay down!’ His command sears across every point your bodies had made contact. He moves toward the formation approaching and becomes a force of nature again.

Hands free and blood singing, you think fuck it. You emerge and survey the scene, taking full advantage of the squad failing to consider you part of the fight. You spin between two while they’re focused on your escort and let fly a flurry of interjections into their joints and airways. One yelps and falls to the side, clawing at his neck. The other fares better, but only until you reef his own blaster in his hands, surprising him with his own momentum, forcing it into the open patch below his helmet and firing.

Dropping the weapon and his limp hands, you convert to a crouch and kick out. With toes pointed and bright, two sets of knees twitch the wrong way and the owners give startled shouts as your fingers find homes in significant places.

A rough hand grabs your tender wrist and you cry out. The shock lets the attacker tug you toward him, fist raised to ram into your face. You barely get your feet under yourself to duck. The swing still manages to brush by your ear, causing a burst of pain. But he’s already let his momentum carry him too far and you yank your seized wrist down so he loses centre. You get your shoulders into his groin and straighten in a rush. He topples over you and lands at a very unfortunate angle on his neck. He stills.

You whirl and register the fight is over. Mando’s whipcord snaps back into place at his wrist and he holsters a pistol slowly, shoulders rising and falling only a little. Seven other bodies surround the still and watchful figure.

‘Five against one, huh?’ he echoes you from your first meeting.

You can only shrug.

He saunters toward you. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

Another shrug. Man, that must be annoying. ‘Woman of mystery. Cards close to the chest. All that,’ you say.

Mando regards you. ‘Hm. I would be interested to know just how many cards you hold there to be honest.’

Would he now.

You’re about to lobby a smartass remark in deflection when his hand rises to your face. You resist the urge to jolt back, letting his palm move to hover within an inch of you. It holds there, making no move to turn into actual touch. Still making your lungs fizzle though.

‘You’re hurt,’ he says. You realise he means your injured mouth.

‘It’s nothing,’ you squeak, cringing at yourself. ‘More story for later. Seriously, I’m fine.’ You think you’re staring into his eyes, as he stares back, but hell if you could really know. He breaks away first and you exhale.

‘Time to go,’ he says, moving to the open grate you had climbed through earlier. The three of you drop into the access tunnels and move out.

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#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #razor crest #mandalorian fanfic

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baek-at-it-again95 · 2 years ago

Text

Walk The Plank (K.HJ x fem reader)

Chapter 8: Yeosang’s Time

You had grown up hearing tales about the infamous pirate crew ATEEZ—the fearless, power-hungry men that roamed the seas in search of the most valuable treasure they could lay their hands on. You almost didn’t believe the stories your mother had told you as a child...not until you wound up on their ship

Warnings for this chapter: None

A/N: I am posting sooo late today ah! I had some school related things to take care of but I really wanted to post :) thank you so much for reading! I’m super excited for the next chapter...it will be the longest!

Previous: Chapter 7, Masterlist

Chapter 8: Yeosang’s Time

You let out a big sigh of relief as your boots touch land for the second time this week, only somewhat listening as Hongjoong and Seonghwa make sure the crew is prepared to venture off. The crew was split into three groups by the captain: one keeping guard at the ship, one exploring the east side of the island, and the other exploring the west side. The eight men of the original crew, whose company you've grown to enjoy, are joining you in exploring the west side of the island.

As your eyes wander around to where the sand of the bay meets dirt, you spot the loveliest flowers. You slowly make your way to them, deciding to pick one. As you reach out to touch a yellow one, someone grabs your arm.

"Miss Y/N, you must not wander off," Yeosang warns.

"Apologies," you mutter, eyes at your feet.

"It's alright, I did not mean to startle you. I just worried when you left my sight." You nod and as he turns for you to follow him, you quickly pick the yellow flower you had set out for. When Yeosang turns back to make sure you're behind him, you quickly tuck the flower behind his ear.

"So pretty!" You beam. His eyes widen for just a moment, the pink tint of his cheeks visible on his fair skin.

"Thank you." He gently takes your arm and guides you to where the crew is beginning to enter the forest of the island. You had not had much interaction with the man before you, as he was usually somewhere below deck on the ship. His skin is quite fair as a result, and he is very handsome. Very. He is one of the quieter of the crew—similar to Jongho. So even when drinking or celebrating, you notice that Yeosang prefers to listen rather than to talk.

He stays close to you as the group moves forward, arms ready to catch you whenever you step over a branch obstructing your path. Seonghwa and Hongjoong lead your group, and you and Yeosang stay not too far behind them. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho are behind you, and behind them, Yunho and Mingi. They decided to watch over everyone from the back.

"Make sure you're looking around for anything unusual," Hongjoong reminds, not bothering to turn around.

"Aye, Captain," you answer for the group. There's not much to see at the moment, just trees that tower way above your heads and shrubs that make it a bit difficult to walk in a straight line. But still, all of you make sure you look around where you take each step, as well as above. Maybe you should be looking for something shiny? Or perhaps a patch of dirt that looks like something has been buried beneath it.

***

You have no idea how long it's been before you reach the first waterfall. The first one of the three, well, possibly four that you had theorized would have the treasure nearby. The cavern that could potentially have the fourth waterfall is also on this side of the island that you are on. The other two mapped waterfalls are on the east side, creating an even split that works out perfectly.

"Be cautious!" Hongjoong announces, hand resting at his cutlass. "There may be traps on this island. No one knows what we will encounter."

The waterfall you have arrived at is small in comparison to what you had imagined. You marvel at the colorful fish in the plunge pool, getting closer. "Stay put, doll," Yeosang whispers.

"But the fish are pretty."

"You, putting yourself in danger, is not pretty." He sighs, pulling you closer by the sash on your waist.

"I can handle myself," you huff.

"I know you can. I just worry."

Hongjoong clears his throat. "Seonghwa and I will explore to see if there is anything behind the waterfall. San, Wooyoung, Jongho...you look above. Yunho, Mingi, Yeosang, and Y/N, look around the plunge basin."

"Aye Captain!" you reply in unison.

As they split up, you continue to look around the basin, wandering around and letting your fingers graze the water, obstructing your view of the rocks below. As you stand up from crouching at the edge of the water, something sparkles in your peripheral and catches your attention. Determined, you glance around until the sparkle appears again. It had glinted to the left of you, and you keep your eyes on the place you saw it as you walk forward. When you're right on top of where it had been, you reach your hand into the water blindly, picking up a handful of sediments at the bottom.

As you open your hand, a bright blue gem sits in your palm. You observe it, squinting at its intricate cuts. It's sort of shaped like...an eye?

"Yeosang!" You call, noticing that he's the closest person to you once again.

"Yes?"

"Does this look important to you?" You hold out the blue stone for him to see. Yeosang squints at it from his place across the way. "It's shaped like an eye."

"What?" Yeosang quickly makes his way to you, looking at the gem between your fingers. "Interesting." Mingi and Yunho crowd around, also taking their look at the sparkly object.��

"Do you think there is another one to match?" Yunho questions.

Mingi scratches his head. "I have not seen anything."

Yeosang shrugs. "Neither have I."

Suddenly, Hongjoong appears from the base of the waterfall.

"Bring it here, Y/N," he demands. You nod, running it over to him. "There is a statue carved into the stone, hidden by the water. Come." All four of you follow him, the new perspective allowing you to make out a figure in the dark wall of stone. The figure is carved to be wearing unusual clothing, a cloak and a strange hat protruding from the stone wall. It stands level with the captain before it. "It is missing an eye...like me," he comments.

"It's yer destiny, eh?" Wooyoung chuckles. Wooyoung, San, and Jongho had gathered with the group, empty-handed after searching the top of the waterfall.

"We shall see." Hongjoong plays with the gem in his good hand, the black polish on his nails keeping your attention. His other hand—well, hook, is positioned in front of him, ready to do damage if anything happens. He carefully places the gem in the left eye socket made of stone, now matching the right. The whole crew backs up instinctively as the stone makes a clicking noise. Then you see that there, at the chest of the statue, a rectangular piece of stone has dropped. It reveals a small, shiny dagger. The blade looks to be made of diamond.

The captain snatches it quickly. "This had better help us get the Cromer." He hands it to Seonghwa for him to observe and runs his hand through his mullet. Even from the side, his features are so sharp and pretty. Yeosang nudges you gently and it brings you out of your noticeable stare at the captain. Your attention is brought to the object that they pass around for each of you to see.

Clearing your throat, you prepare to speak up. "So, the cavern on the map...are we heading there?"

"Yes," Hongjoong answers, pulling out his map from a pocket inside his coat. "The one that you had pointed out a few nights ago. We shall head there. If we do not discover anything, we will meet back at the ship until the other half of the crew returns from their search." You nod.

"I have a feeling it just has to be in the cavern...there is something about it," you mumble.

"Come, then. Let us go." Hongjoong leads the way once again, and this time, Seonghwa walks next to you and Yeosang. As you walk, you recite the line that Hongjoong had recited to you a while back.

"The real treasure lies where the eternal sunshine does not reach, where it sits between the end of the beginning. It calls out with no answer, its echo drowned out by the dark, the loud, and the calm."

"The end of the beginning..." you repeat to yourself. "Where the eternal sunshine does not reach." You scratch your head. "Where within the cavern is the beginning of the end?"

Hongjoong responds without turning around, pushing forward through the island vegetation. "Good question, darling. It could be the base of the other waterfall...or perhaps some kind of ground where sunlight cannot touch through the cracks above. I suppose there is only one way to find out."

>>chapter 9

#kim hongjoong #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez pirate au #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa #song mingi #jung wooyoung #jung yunho #choi san #kang yeosang #choi jongho

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bellysoupset · 1 year ago

Note

I just reread your fic were Jonah had a vertigo episode and Vince told him he was dating Wendy.

I just love Jonah and his friendships with both Vince and Wendy so much.

So I'd like to request Jonah taking care of either Vince or Wendy.

!!! This ask made all my braincells dance, I never got a request for Jonah x Vince's brotp, so I just had to rush and write it. Someone else asked for concussed Vin so... The best of both worlds. This is a part 1

-------

Jonah drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to quell the anxiety and annoyance inside of him. He still wasn't quite convinced this wasn't a prank.

Concern stirred in his chest and Jonah pressed the gas pedal a little harder. He'd be furious, but he'd rather this was a prank, actually.

It wasn't rare for Vince to text him. Their conversation was mostly unilateral, with Vin bombarding his instagram DMs with memes, messages that Jonah rarely reacted to aside from one snippy line here and there, but that he treasured a lot. When Vince went radio silent in their non reciprocal chat, Jonah worried.

It was, however, very unusual for Vince to call him. When they went on double or triple dates, it was Wendy doing the calling, never Vin.

So Jonah had been dumbfounded when his phone had rang in the middle of the day, Vince's name displayed across the screen.

He glanced at the map on his GPS, then scanned the deserted road, as if he'd see Vince- As soon as he turned the next exit, Jonah's stomach dropped to his feet.

Sadly it hadn't been a prank.

There was a tree fallen on one side of the deserted, middle of nowhere road, tire marks on the wet tarmac and then Vince, sitting on the curb, with his motorcycle fallen a couple feet away from him.

Jonah parked the car hastily, jumping out and power walking to his friend, "What the hell happened?"

Vince looked up from the ground, squinting at him, "uhm- Car, lost control-" he was slurring, gesturing to the site of the accident, "hit me straight on."

"Where is the bloody car right now?" Jonah seethed, crouching down to get a good look at Vince's face. He wasn't wearing the helmet anymore, it was on the ground near his boots. His face was milky white, a hard frown in the middle of his brows making Vince look quite intimidating.

"Drove off..." Vin rubbed his neck, then met his eyes and Jonah's anger all but doubled. Some jerk had hit his friend and simply driven off? "I'm sorry... I-"

"Shut up," Jonah rolled his eyes, leaning in to plant his fingers on Vince's vitals, "how hurt are you?"

"Not sure," Vin mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as Jonah explored his neck in search of bruises, personal space be damned, "my side hurts."

"Lean back, lift up your shirt," Jonah bossed and expected a cheeky Vince-esque remark in return. An at-least-buy-me-dinner-first line or even I'm-telling-Leo. Instead he got sullen silence and obedience, which only made him all the more worried.

Vince gingerly unzipped his jacket, then attempted to pull up his shirt, but he didn't get very far. His grip on the fabric was weak and his arm didn't seem to be cooperating. Jonah mentally made a note to check his shoulders, then slapped Vince's hand away and pushed the shirt up.

There was a nasty cut, covering all of Vince's left side, starting a couple inches under his armpit and going all the way near his belly button, surrounded by scrapes and scratches. It wasn't deep, otherwise he'd probably be bleeding out, but it was ugly nonetheless. The blood had already clotted over.

"Shit, Vince," Jonah frowned, leaning in to inspect the wound, "I think this need stitches..."

"Uhm, are you sure?" Vince blinked heavily, "can't you just- I don't know, band-aid it?"

Jonah stared at him, unimpressed, "You're a piece of work," he scoffed, then pushed the shirt back down, "what else hurts?"

"My foot," Vince gestured his left foot, "I think I broke it."

"And you didn't start by saying that?!" Jonah raised his eyebrows, sitting back on his heels to undo Vince's boot and carefully remove it. His foot was swollen alright and purple around the ankle, but once Jonah poked him on the sole, the toes all curled in reflex, "I don't think it's broken, but you definitely need an x-ray to check for hairline fractures or any torn ligaments- In fact, I think you need a whole body check up, Vin."

"I'm fine," Vince groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He had scratches all over his chin, dried blood where his eyebrow had split open, "I just wanna go home. Can you drive me home?"

Absolutely not, Jonah thought, but instead he nodded, "sure, I'll drive you home," he lied with an eyeroll, barely keeping the sarcasm from his voice, "you didn't happen to get the asshole's car plate, did you?"

"Nope," Vince seemed completely drained, "can you not tell Wendy? At least until later."

Wendy was in NYC, visiting her family, so Jonah shrugged. He wouldn't be talking with her until tomorrow, "okay... Put your arm around my neck, c'mon."

Between the wounded foot, the nasty gash on his side, the probably dislocated shoulder and the fact that Vince was fucking 6'4, it was a hassle to get him up and limping to the car.

Jonah was sweating and panting by the time he got Vince sitting down again. This would've been easier if Luke was here... Jon pushed the thought aside almost with a scowl. He hadn't called Lucas and he figured there was a reason why Vince had called him instead of his siamese twin.

"Jon," Vince leaned his head heavily against the inside of the car, near the door, "can we go?"

"Hold on a second, let me just get some pictures of your bike," Jonah squeezed his shoulder, "hang in there, don't fall off the car."

Vince's bike was in a surprisingly decent shape. The were some parts from the front scattered around the ground and the front tire had been slashed open- Jonah shuddered as he pictured just how the bike had gotten that way, Vince being catapulted out of it. He snapped a couple pictures, jolting down the license plate and then rushed back to the car.

"Be honest with me, were you speeding?" Jonah asked, as he put the seatbelt around Vince, wincing in sympathy as he felt his friend recoil when the wrap hit his wounded side.

"No," Vin leaned his head back, breathing through his mouth, "no... Raining..." he mumbled, as if that explained everything.

"Okay..." Jonah started the car, glancing nervously at the man lying right next to him, "hey, don't pass out," he poked Vince's thigh five minutes later, as he noticed him sliding down the seat, "I need you to stay awake, you could be concussed."

"Not concussed," Vince groaned, sitting up straight once again, "just in pain."

"Where?" It was a dumb question and Vince could say everywhere and it'd probably count as an accurate answer, but Jonah wanted him to keep talking. For once he missed the incessant chatting.

"Side," he answered quietly, "fuck, my bike..."

"I'm gonna call someone to tow it, it's okay," Jonah rolled his eyes, starting the windshield wiper as the rain started back up. He noticed Vince's teeth chattering, "are you cold?"

"Uhm..." Vin nodded, then leaned forward, resting his forehead on the dashboard, one hand resting on his stomach, "don't feel well, Jon..."

"Not concussed, uh?" Jon scoffed, already pulling the car to the side of the road. He reached over Vince when the man didn't move and unlocked the door, undoing his seatbelt, "c'mon, Vin, don't be an ass, puke out of the car."

Vince obeyed silently, making Jonah feel just a touch more concerned. He hated that his bantering wasn't getting an answer, it was widely out of character.

Vin hung his torso out of the car, bracing heavily against the door and let out a weak heave, followed by a pained gasp, "hurtssss..."

Frowning, Jonah planted a hand on his shoulder to keep Vince from falling off the car and then moved the other one down his spine. His leather jacket had been slashed clean through, something he hadn't noticed before. Vince heaved again, a delicate gagging that was so unlike him, followed by a whimper. Jonah drummed his fingers gently over his wounded side and then pulled his hand back as he met a weird poking under the skin.

"Goddamit, Vince, I think you have a broken rib," that would explain why he was struggling to even vomit without crying from pain.

There was a noise from his friend, followed by yet another retch and then Vince was choking on the liquid, vomit rushing out of his mouth and splashing on the road.

Jonah's stomach churned with sympathy and he squeezed his hand on Vince's shoulder, turning his face away and trying to tune the awful noise out.

Vince heaved again, whole body convulsing with the pain, and Jonah ducked his head, not bothering to muffle his own wet belch. He could taste his lunch all over again.

"Sssorry..." Vince groaned, from his right, before coughing once again and heaving loudly, the noise much louder now. Jonah heard, distinctively, as he emptied out the last of his stomach contents and was reduced to a mess of dry heaves and sobs from the pain.

He straightened up, sniffling and wiping the tears from his cheek, "sorry, Jon-"

Jonah ignored him, flinging his own door opened and bracing against it as he belched again, his lunch threatening to leap to his throat. He swallowed convulsively, gagged and then thumped his chest to dislodge one sick burp, spitting all the thick saliva on the road under. Stomach more or less settled, Jonah straightened up, daring to look at Vince.

He felt beyond humiliated. It was such a pathetic display, to be unable to help his loved ones when they got sick because his own stomach was too weak, "I'm sorry," he grumbled, voice rough and thick.

"I'm so-"

"You look awful," Jonah interrupted, choosing to do this instead of telling him to shut the fuck up and stop apologizing for daring to be sick with a probable concussion, "Vin, I'm taking you to the hospital."

Vince frowned, shaking his head, "I'm fine, really-"

"You have a broken rib, for sure. A sprained ankle at best. That wound is gonna need at least 50 stitches. I'm pretty sure you're concussed and fuck - who knows what else," Jonah glared at him, enumerating the injuries on his fingers, "I'm driving you to the hospital."

"It's gonna cost my right arm and for what? For broken ribs they only tell you to rest and take painkillers. I'm not concussed, I know how a concussion feels like. My foot they'll also just tell me to not walk around and let it heal. I don't need stitches, I'm not even bleeding anymore," Vince said, sounding annoyed and glaring at Jonah, "I thought you wouldn't make a fuss."

Jonah's glare took a steely turn, as he realized Vince had called him specifically because Lucas would've been frantic and probably called an ambulance. It was insulting, "Fuck you," Jonah scoffed, "Did you think I'd find you all mangled and just be like here, I'll drive you to the dorms so you can have internal hemorrhage in the middle of the night? Just because I'm not Lucas? Go fuck yourself Vince," Jonah spat out, slamming his own door shut and starting the car back again.

A heavy silence fell upon them. Jonah stubbornly ignored it, seething with anger. From the corner of his eye he could see Vince looking away from him, a pained frown on, the closest he could get to pouting in this much pain.

It went on for good fifteen minutes, until Vince broke it by mumbling a small, rough "I'm sorry. That was stupid of me."

"Uhm," was all Jonah answered, still just as furious.

He squeezed the steering wheel between his fingers, with much more force than necessary, and rolled his shoulders. The ugliest part of him wanted to yell at Vince a little bit more, bitterness coating the inside of his mouth.

"Jon," Vince interrupted his spiraling angry thoughts and Jonah pointedly ignored him.

"Jonah," Vince said a bit more strongly and Jon sighed, looking away from the road.

"What? If you'll try to get me to not dri-"

"Pull over," Vince groaned, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth, "now, Jon."

Jonah cursed under his breath, they were no longer in an empty road, but close to the hospital and it wasn't as easy to pull over so soon, "hold on, hold on-" he chanted, signaling the need to stop and scanning the crowded street for a spot.

Next to him, Vince let out a gag, hunching over further.

A car pulled out in front of a store and Jonah rushed to take it's spot. It was a tight fit, but-

Vince gagged again and then Jon heard a whine as liquid splashed on his hand and lap, "fuck-"

Jon pressed his eyes closed, the car coming to a swift stop, but clearly he was too late. He breathed in deeply, forcing himself to be on check as he turned to his friend, to assess the mess... "fuck, Vince."

Vince hadn't quite made a mess, because he hadn't puked actual vomit. Instead there was bright blood in his hand.

"I... This can't be good, right?" Vince's voice was shaking and Jonah shook his head no.

"No, it's not," he agreed, noticing Vince's eyes the size of platters, clearly mortified, "c'mon, let's get you checked up."

Jonah couldn't remember if he had ever seen Vince be scared before. Even when he had been severely dehydrated, almost a year ago he had been more annoyed and out of it than scared.

Now he was very awake and aware of everything, much to Jon's dismay. He couldn't help his own sympathetic wince as Vince got transferred from his car to the emergency bed, the paramedics grumbling about Jonah driving him there in the first place instead of calling an ambulance.

He busied himself with getting Vince's bike picked up and then sat on the waiting room, hating to be on the opposite side of the hospital experience for once.

His phone buzzed and Jonah glanced at it nervously, half expecting it to be Wendy miraculously knowing the hell had happened. Instead it was Leo.

Leo: I thought you said you had the day off today? Court ended early and you're not here 🥺

Jonah breathed out, ignoring the prickles of anxiety running up his arm and typed back "I'm at the hospital. Vin got in a car accident."

He saw Leo type and retype, the little bubble appearing and disappearing multiple times, before the screen suddenly changed into the call mode.

"Hey-"

"What happened? How is he!?" Leo's voice was up a whole note, "how did you-"

"He called me, I think two hours ago? He seemed a little in shock, but overall very aware. Sent me his location and everything," Jonah answered, sliding down the seat and staring at the ceiling, "I think the rain caused him or someone to lose control, but either way, they hit his bike head on and then ran."

"What the fuck-"

"He's in x-ray right now. For sure at least one rib is broken, maybe his left foot too. Something is up with his shoulder, I couldn't quite see... Oh yeah and there's this big fucking wound on his side. He's gonna get stitched up after the x-ray and MRI."

"MRI?" Leo said and Jonah could hear him moving around, "did he hit his head?"

"He says he didn't, but he flew off his bike, so," Jonah rolled his eyes, "the idiot didn't want to come to the hospital."

"Sounds like Vince alright," Leo let out a weak chuckle, "you're bringing him here, right?"

Jonah hesitated, thinking back on the fact he had told Vince to go fuck himself, "uh-"

"He can't stay alone in the dorms," Leo cut in, "Wendy's out of town and he called you. You're bringing him here, even if you have to drag him."

"Yes, sir," Jonah teased lightly, opening a smile, "...Don't tell Luke? Or Wendy?"

"I don't talk with Wendy," Leo pointed out with a huff, "...Do you need anything? A coat? Food?"

"What...?" Jonah frowned, "no, you don't have to come over. We're fine, he'll probably be out in an hour or two, unless they want him to spend the night in case of a concussion."

"Vince would rather die," Leo pointed out with a little snicker, "... Are you okay? You sound shaken up."

"I'm fine..." Jonah mumbled, "just worried."

"Aw, he cares," Leo teased lightly, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Jon let out a smile, but Leo's teasing had only made him feel worse. He nodded, before remembering his boyfriend couldn't see him, "yeah, of course he will," he agreed, "I gotta go. I'll text you later. Love you."

"Love-" Jonah hung up before he heard the end of it, getting up from his seat and walking to the folding doors that lead to the closed part of the hospital, pacing around it anxiously.

It was another hour and a half before a girl he knew from class stepped out, "Vicent- Monacelli...?"

"Vicenzo," Jonah corrected, stepping forward, "hi Claire."

"Oh, hi Jonah," she smiled, "you're the one who brought him in?"

"Yeah... How is he?" he couldn't be bothered to hide the nervousness. He hadn't mentioned to Leo the coughing up blood, but that had been driving him insane with worry.

"He's fine," Claire tapped her clipboard with a pen, "giving the nurses a run for their money, he keeps trying to leave. Let's talk inside."

Vince hadn't been transferred to a private room, which Jonah counted as a sign he wouldn't need to stay the night. He was leaning back on a long armchair, with an IV connected to his arm, an angry frown on his face. His foot had been put in a boot cast, his shirt removed and his arm was now resting on a sling. A long bandage on his side, covered also by the bandages wrapping around his torso. A million butterfly bandages were scattered all over him.

"I thought you had left," Vince piped up, opening a lopsided smile, "can you tell the nice doctor I can go home?"

"No," Jonah rolled his eyes, looking at Claire, "doctor?"

"Alright, so let's start from the least worrying. You have a dislocated shoulder-"

"It happens all the time," Vince interjected, to which the doctor and Jonah ignored him.

"we've put it back in place and you're supposed to wear the sling and avoid moving your shoulder as much as possible for the next six weeks."

"That's crazy, six weeks?! Classes will start back up, it's my final season-"

"What else?" Jon pinched his nose bridge.

"Left foot is just twisted, but twisted badly. Three weeks of boot," she glared at Vince pointedly, "otherwise you will break it, then it'll be much longer. And you won't play your precious football game."

"It's a twisted ankle, please," Vince scoffed, "I've sported worse injuries during a game-"

"What about his ribs?" Jonah squeezed Vince's bicep to shut him up. Claire crisped her lips in annoyance and Jon almost laughed. Clearly Vince was not growing on the hospital staff.

"One broken rib, one cracked. Four weeks of bed rest and four more of little to no movement," she sighed, "I'm serious, Mr. Monacelli, if you don't rest, you'll end up breaking the one that is cracked and that one has a very bad angle to your lungs. Don't try your luck."

Vince grumbled something in italian, but nodded, wincing as he shifted on his seat, "she says I don't have a concussion, by the way."

Jonah scoffed, then looked at the blonde doctor before him, "really?"

"We ran all the scans, Jon, he's fine," Claire nodded and Jonah almost laughed as he could see she was holding back a mean comment, "Our best guess is the vomiting was due to the pain and shock."

"And the coughing up blood? His lungs are alright?"

"Yes. The blood was actually from a tear inside his mouth, he probably bit down when he hit the ground and the stomach acid irritated the wound," she opened a small smile, "as long as you rest and take the medication correctly, you should be fine, Mr. Monacelli."

"Alright," Vince nodded, then grabbed the IV pole to hoist himself up, "so I can go home?"

Claire mulled over the answer, looking conflicted. Jonah knew that technically, with those injuries, they couldn't hold him overnight, no matter how much it looked like Vince was just gonna ignore all doctor orders.

"He's coming with me," Jonah piped up, "I'll make sure he rests."

"The hell I am!" Vince whined, "I have my own dorm-"

"You're coming with me whether you want it or not," Jonah glared at him, "or you can stay the night here."

"They can't hold me here," Vince scoffed, then frowned and looked at the doctor, "you can't, right?"

Jonah grimaced and Claire clearly understood, because she shrugged, "if we think you're a danger to yourself, we can," she lied.

Vince's face fell and he sighed, sitting back down, "fine," he said, as if he had any choice on the matter. Jonah let out a relieved sigh.

Signing Vince out was easy enough, at least when compared to once again getting him to hop back to the car, since he vehemently refused using a wheelchair, much to everyone's displeasure.

"I don't think you realize you're a giant," Jonah panted as he pushed the passenger seat as far back as his sport car allowed and gave up on using the seatbelt.

"Uhm..." Vince let out a defeated sigh, leaning back against the leather seat, "I'm useless."

"You're hurt," Jonah reminded him with an eyeroll, "look... I- I'm sorry I yelled at you-"

"No," Vince sighed, "no, you were right... I was a jerk. Can we just go? Everything hurts."

"Your drugged, Vin," Jonah snorted, circling the car to get in the driver's side, "I doubt you can feel your face right now."

"I can and it hurts," Vince groaned, then closed his eyes as the movement started back up, "are you sure you don't mind me being at your place...? I can call-"

"If you say Lucas I'll leave you on the side of the road," Jonah slapped his friend's thigh, causing Vince to jerk and let out a whine.

"Fine, whatever," Vince smiled, eyes still closed, "...Told you I didn't have a concussion."

TBC

#narrator voice: and he was wrong <3 #mywriting #emeto fic #emetophilia #vince monacelli #concussion #sickfic

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rosanna-writer · 1 year ago

Text

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (11/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.1k

Feyre faces her first task Under the Mountain.

Some dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the eleventh chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from

I heard the crowd before I saw it. The passageway reverberated with the roaring, which could only mean that everyone Under the Mountain was here to witness this. As long as Rhys was among them, I didn't mind.

As the guards hauled me closer, the floor became slick and muddy. That was strange—all of the rooms and passages down here had been hewn from dry stone. I suspected it had something to do with the task ahead of me, but I couldn't imagine what. There hadn't been any mention of mud when I'd gone over maps of Under the Mountain in Velaris, and Rhys hadn't mentioned anything about it, either.

The shouting grew louder as we approached, and the faces of the fae closest to me were twisted in feral, bloodthirsty delight. I kept my chin high. Amarantha sat on a wooden platform erected above the crowd, surrounded by all seven High Lords. I didn't bother to look at Rhys or Tamlin, as much as I was tempted to.

Instead, I turned my attention to the strange labyrinth of tunnels and trenches along the floor. I was to be thrown into it, I realized. Perhaps there was something for me to find without getting lost, traps to avoid…

Then Amarantha raised a hand, and the crowd went quiet.

I looked straight at her, doing my best to seem faintly bored. She wore that usual mocking smile that was becoming far too familiar. Rhys kept out of my head, so I just waited for her to speak.

"There's not a scratch on you, Feyre. Don't tell me Rhysand decided to be a gentleman last night and make your first time soft," she said.

"Daemati don't leave marks," I said coolly, "but I'm not surprised you'd forget, considering how utterly unremarkable your whore turned out to be in bed."

The words were out of my mouth before I thought to warn Rhys I was about to insult him. He knew perfectly well that I had to keep up appearances, but to use that word that had been spat at him for fifty years…it might have gone too far. I sent a pulse of regret down the bond.

He slipped into my mind just long enough to say, Unremarkable in bed? It's difficult to be offended when you're being such a liar.

Good—he saw through the mask I was wearing, too. Forcing myself not to let my relief show, I kept watching Amarantha. Even from a distance, I caught the way her eyes flashed and her lip curled in the beginning of a snarl. My words had been a touch too defiant—I braced myself, ready to bear the brunt of her anger.

She merely rested a possessive hand on Tamlin's knee, a clear display of dominance that flaunted the ring with Jurian's eye. It was a miracle I managed not to look irritated. Even with the power of all seven High Lords at her disposal, she clearly seemed to consider my apparent devotion to Tamlin a threat. Pathetic, really. She could have him for all I cared.

"Did you solve my riddle yet?" she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. I said nothing and kept my face blank. "Of course not, and what a shame. It was so simple, but I suppose humans just can't handle faerie wine. You don't even remember it, do you?"

"No. I don't remember it at all," I lied, cheeks burning.

That, at least, seemed to satisfy her. She sat back in her throne contentedly, and I did my best not to look too relaxed.

"Then you'll have to face my tasks, I'm afraid. Though I suspect you'll like this one—Rhysand tells me you're a huntress."

I held back a smile at the confirmation Rhys had come through for me. I might not have a bow or supplies to make a snare, but I was by far the the best hunter Under the Mountain. I'd all but proven that on Calanmai.

My sense of relief was short-lived as claws dug into my armpits and lifted me into the air. I let out a shriek. The crowd laughed. I twisted to see what had grabbed me—the Attor. I was dangling from its claws like a mouse caught by an owl.

Two more powerful wingbeats, and it dropped me into the trench.

I fell to my knees, mud soaking through my pants. The muck seemed to suck me down, and I prayed I'd tied the laces of my boots tight enough to keep them on. I struggled to my feet and tried not to gag at the smell.

The smell—if I was hunting, I'd need to cover my scent. The mud itself might not be overwhelming to a creature that lived here, and it seemed safe enough to assume whatever beast she'd have me fight would have an acute sense of smell.

The sound of Amarantha's voice pulled me from my thoughts about the possible direction of the airflow through the arena. "Hunt this, Feyre," she said, then called, "Release it."

I barely kept my balance as a grate rose, sending rumbling vibrations throughout the trenches. Heart pounding, I bent my knees, ready to push off and run in any direction. Amarantha was saying something else, but I ignored her.

My quarry appeared.

And it was a worm.

A giant worm, surprisingly fast, with a mouth full of rings of sharp teeth, but a worm nonetheless. I barreled down the trench to put space between us, to give me time to think and come up with a plan. I'd hunted plenty of game in the woods, but I hadn't the faintest idea how to hunt a worm.

Rhysand had to be out of his mind if he thought this was part of my skillset.

I kept running, veering around corners and hoping it was enough to give me space to breathe. There were no weapons down here, nothing but mud. Perhaps I'd be able to hide myself in it, but that wouldn't do any good if all I had to kill the worm with was my bare hands.

After turning enough corners, the worm was nowhere in sight. I risked stopping in the middle of a long straightaway. It seemed safe enough to pause here, somewhere I'd see it coming. Bent forward with my hands on my knees, I considered what I'd seen. Most of my attention had been on that terrible mouth and razor-sharp teeth, but then I realized—I hadn't seen a pair of eyes.

The worm was blind.

It had to rely on smell to navigate, and it was almost certainly used to the mud. And the first rule of hunting was to conceal your scent. I dropped into the mud and rolled. There was precious little time before the worm came slithering around a corner, but I made sure every inch of me was covered—my hair, my face, my neck—even as the damp seeped through my clothes and chilled me down to my bones.

The crowd tittered, clearly confused by this turn of events, but I tuned it out. I was invisible now, but I still didn't have a weapon or a plan. Until I did, I couldn't waste a single shred of my attention on anything else, though I couldn't help but notice Rhys saying my name and something vaguely smug.

Now that I'd caught my breath, I hurried through the labyrinth and looked for something that could be of use other than mud. I had no weapons on me, nothing to use as a projectile beyond the clothes on my back. And my shoe would hardly be enough to fell the worm, no matter how hard I threw it.

I skidded to at stop at the end of another long straightaway, nearly falling into the pit before me. The Mother only knew how deep it went. If I fell in, I'd be trapped. But there was nothing in this labyrinth for me but mud. And the worm was coming.

So I dove.

I dipped my chin, tucking in my head to avoid landing on it just as Cassian had trained me. The mud softened my landing as I rolled, then got smoothly to my feet. There was some scattered applause from the crowd. I ignored it, intent on finding a tool. Or at least a way back up.

My eyes hadn't adjusted yet—I couldn't see what it was, but I nearly wept for joy when something hard crunched under my foot. I crouched down and dug it out. Bone. Piles of bones came into view, the remains of whatever the worm had been eating. But more importantly, my way out of here.

I could retreat farther into the darkness—there had to be a second way out—but I wouldn't be able to see. To get out, I'd have to scale the the mud walls. There was nothing to grab but mud that fell away in my hands. The bones would have to do.

I found a long, thin bone and broke it in half over my thigh. It snapped in half, even as my own body protested at the effort. But the ends were sharp. Deadly. And I felt better with a weapon in hand.

I fastened one half to my belt, then got to work setting my trap. I cracked as many bones as I could, breaking them over my knee until my thigh was probably dotted with bruises under my mud-soaked pants. I stuck them into the ground, sharp side up. When the pain of snapping them over my thigh became too much to bear, I broke more with my foot.

The crowd was roaring above me—at some point I was vaguely aware of a taunt from Amarantha and something else smug from Rhys. But I was too intent on what I was doing to care.

By the time it was done, my hands ached and stung, covered in scrapes from bone shards. The trap was set, but I still had work to do. None of this would matter if I didn't have a way back out. I pressed the last few long bones into the sides of the pit, a makeshift stepladder to haul myself out. That is, if they didn't snap under my full weight and send me falling onto the spikes I'd set up below. I fastened as many more bone fragments to my belt as I dared, hoping they'd prove useful later.

It had to work, if only to spare me the embarrassment of being killed by my own trap in front of an audience.

The bones wobbled under my weight as I scrambled up the makeshift ladder. My stomach flipped, the feeling too familiar after climbing up trees with too-thin branches. Before I could fall, I heaved myself upwards. I flopped forward, landing inelegantly on my stomach. But I'd made it.

Pulling the bone-spears from my belt, I pressed them into the mud so they jutted out sideways. They'd force the worm to slow down as it rounded these corners. It would buy me some time, a few precious seconds.

Now it was just a matter of baiting the worm into the trap.

I unfastened the last bone, holding it out like a sword, and stalked down the trench. With the dull roar of the crowd and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, I could barely pick out the slithering sound the worm made as it moved. My instincts were screaming at me to go faster, but years of hunting had trained me to ignore them, to look and listen before every single step.

As I rounded a corner, it slithered by, completely unaware of me. I'd change that in a moment. Gritting my teeth, I cut open a gash along the side of my arm. It was small, but if the worm's sense of smell was as acute as I suspected, a few drops would be enough.

Leaving blood behind me in a trail, I ran.

The mud sucked my feet down, and my legs were groaning with the effort to pull my feet out with every step. The squelching sound seemed to echo in my ears, drowning nearly everything else out. I'd kick off my boots and run barefoot if I had to. I prayed it wouldn't come to that.

The trench didn't seem to end, and I'd half-convinced myself I'd spent the rest of my immortal life running from the worm when the pit opened up wide before me. I dove again.

But this time, my energy was sapped. I put every last drop of strength into the leap, but I didn't travel quite far enough, landing too close to spikes. I barely managed to remember to tuck my head and avoid slamming it into the mud.

A bone shard dug into my arm as I flipped myself over, crisscrossing the first gash with another one, tearing open the flesh all the way from my shoulder to my elbow. I screamed. Tears pricked at my eyes.

I scrambled back, away from the mouth of the pit, not thinking, just seeking the darkness on instinct. Even with pain clouding my mind, I knew darkness was safe. Bone-spear in hand, I pushed myself deeper into the worm's den.

I turned around just in time to watch the worm plummet after me into the pit. The wet, crunching noise that followed would replay in my nightmares for the rest of my days, the worst thing I'd ever heard since that very first snap of a rabbit's neck.

But the worm didn't move.

Out of habit, I reached towards my thigh for a hunting knife, ready to fight through the exhaustion to skin and butcher a kill, the way I'd done at the end of countless long days in the woods. But for once, I didn't have to.

I staggered forward, still clutching the bone-sword in my uninjured hand. The crowd was cheering, but the only thing I could focus on other than the pain was the gentle brush of talons at the edge of my mind. I let my shields down—it was a wonder I'd even managed to keep them up this long.

The wave of relief down the bond was so strong I nearly lost my grip as I climbed back out of the pit. But Rhys wasted no time, pressing his talons deeper to take away the pain from the wound in my arm. It cleared my head, at least somewhat.

As I walked back through the labyrinth, Rhys said, I have never been more grateful to have the bravest mate in Prythian.

And I had never been more tired of being brave. Yet again, I'd found myself in danger, setting a trap and killing a beast just to keep myself and the people I cared about alive. Rhys had been right that the task had played to my strengths—at the end of it all, the worm's labyrinth of muddy trenches wasn't any different from the labyrinth of snow and ice I hunted in each winter. For a while in the Spring Court, I'd thought I'd finally put hunting behind me, but after finding out that had all been a lie, ending up right back where I'd started was so much more infuriating.

"Well," Amarantha said with a little smirk as I approached the platform, "I suppose anyone could have done that."

The words broke the dam that had been straining to hold back my overwhelming rage. My lips pulled back from my teeth, I snarled like a faerie, took a few running steps, and hurled the bone-spear at her.

It landed just in front of her, embedded in the mud, quivering and splattering filth onto her gown. I nearly screamed in frustration—I'd been aiming for her heart, but my strength was too depleted to throw the bone far enough.

But then Rhys dropped his shields completely, and from his side of the bond, a wave of the best feeling in the world washed over me. I didn't recognize it at first, but it was warm and golden and beautiful, something far too good to exist in this hellhole Under the Mountain. Even as I wanted to let myself melt into the feeling, I struggled to find a name for it.

A sob nearly escaped me when I realized what it was: love.

Amarantha was picking up a piece of parchment and saying something about it, but I paid her no attention, just focused on the way Rhys's mind curled around mine. I love you, too, I said back, wishing that as I did it, I could look at him and not the see the mask, just this once.

But before that he'd called me brave, and something about it had been familiar. As Amarantha continued on with some nonsense about wagers, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what it was about the word "brave" that had stuck in my mind. I'd heard it before, somewhere significant.

I drew enough strength from the feeling of Rhys's mind against mine to remember. But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare. I had been brave enough to dare to come Under the Mountain, and there was only one thing that had truly felt like a blessing since I'd arrived, the feeling he'd just sent me through the bond.

And it was the answer to the riddle.

I turned my attention back to Amarantha, who was saying, "…and just one person said you would win." I knew exactly who that person was, and it was all the confirmation I needed that I was right.

"By the way," I said, my voice strong as it rang through the arena and carried over the crowd, my cocky tone making me sound just a bit like my mate, "the answer to the riddle is love. And Tamlin isn't my High Lord—that honor belongs to Rhysand."

The whole room was instantly plunged into darkness. There were screams of terror from the crowd, but I wasn't the least bit afraid. This was the darkness that sang in Rhys's veins, the same power that had greeted me like an old friend the first time I'd set foot in the Night Court.

On the platform where Rhys was standing, I could just barely make out the outline of membranous wings, razor-sharp talons, and raven feathers, as if the darkness was letting me see through it, allowing me a glimpse of the monster that lurked underneath it all.

I smiled at it.

I could feel the sense of victory, though I wasn't sure if it was entirely mine or Rhys's or something that belonged to the magic I'd just released. But regardless of where it originated, I knew exactly what it was.

This was Night Triumphant.

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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