#okay i added those tags <- before i made this post SO long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slutsareteacherstoo · 2 months ago

Text

I Hope Part 3 - Terry Richmond x Black OC

Black Fem! OC - Savannah (dark skinned, curvy, and disabled) x Terry Richmond (Gentle!Terry, Sweet!Terry, Nervous!Terry)

(I gotta get better at these tags, suggestions welcome!)

Summary: Terry finds himself a change of scenery to after the events of Rebel Ridge

Warnings/Things of Note: I made him cry 😭🤣 (idk i just feel like that’s important; THE MAN IS GRIEVING!!!)

Word count: 3K+ (3,093)

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience. After I made my last post I was like lemme try and polish it, but then I added more and then i fell asleep. Been fighting sleep tryna finish this part. I dont like how this part ends because it doesn’t have all the descriptions I wanted but it’s part 3 complete and onto part 3. im also trying to not let myself not sharing anything because Imma be holding on it to it for who knows how long cuz life is beating my butt😵‍💫

So canonically, Terry was born in 1992. And they wrapped up filming in July 2022. A lot of folks have been using 30 for Terry’s age since thats how old Aaron is. And so i was like okay cuz in my mind this takes place a few months after Rebel Ridge and so i used the time period to my advantage and make it an important part of the story

So we are throwing it back a bit in time to start at the beginning of their story. I was rereading it like oh shit damn i did do something frfr but we gotta go chronologic for this to work.

It’s kinda proofread but i be missing words when i type (also its 2:30 in the morning so idk its probably mistakes in there) Comments and critiques are welcome 🤗

don’t do too much tho🌚 cuz apparently yall think you can talk to people anyhow on this internet.

Anyways. Enjoy. ☺️

Fall 2022

Terry was making his way to the library. He needed a place to charge his phone and to think before heading to his final destination to meet her. Sun shining, skin glistening with sweat and pedaling hard to the tune of metal, he focused on where he was going. And what his next steps would be.

He wanted something different. Something better. He was trying to be better. Someone new. He’d been out of the military for almost 5 years now. And for the past 2, he’d been trying to shed that skin. To cut those ties and be someone new. A man and not a machine.

It’s why he found himself not at home but more than 2000 miles away from it. Away from what happened some months ago. The grief he was holding was too much. The very much preventable death of his favorite cousin. The future he envisioned for the both of them and what was to come instead. The loss of camaraderie and brotherhood of his fellow Marines while also knowing he needed to get out while he still could.

With his desired destination now in full view, he eased his pace a bit, preparing to slow down and eventually stop. The music in his ears was coming to a crescendo when he finally got off of his bike. He pulled his blue backpack for the lock and began the short walk to the bike locker. He hoisted it upward to fit in the rack with the other bikes.

After closing the locker, he decided to take a swig of water while looking at the landscape before him. Body turned to face the direction he’d previously came from. He was taking in the urban landscape, a concrete jungle lined with palm trees. A different view from the country back home. After taking the moment to center himself, Terry decided to enter the library.

He was making his way through the sliding doors, being met with the building’s cool air immediately. And when the song he was listening to faded, a different melody came through but it wasn’t from his phone. It was someone speaking. A smooth and gentle voice that resonated with Terry strongly. The person was saying something about frozen food. He took his buds out, ear by ear, to see where the voice was coming from. Hearing it in fullness and clarity, the feeling of resonance grew inside of him. Almost like recognition.

“So when we’re shopping for food, it can seem difficult to try and eat healthier. The fresh fruits and veggies seem to be more expensive than other items. So it makes sense that we want to go for what’s cheaper. Especially if we have mouths to feed,” said the voice.

A chorus of agreement in yeses, yups, and mhmms came from the direction of the voice.

“That’s why I like to get some of mine from the freezer.”

The chorus sounded again in wonder, confusion and intrigue. Terry’s interest was piqued too. Since he was going to start figuring out all this for himself again, he might as well listen. He finally looked and faced his body in the group’s direction, standing straight with hands crossed in front of him at attention. And she had it. The group’s conductor captivated him immediately. He didn’t know why but it felt important.

Her hair was in low puff and covered by a magenta bandanna. Translucent lavender glasses were the gateway to deep, dark brown cat eyes, lined in black. Terry couldn’t help but be drawn in by their allure. Thin, gold oversized hoops framed her face and gave warmth to her deep brown skin. The rest of it was covered by a white mask with light blue straps.

That actually gave him pause. Was he supposed to be wearing one? Maybe he missed a sign, distracted by the captivating conductor. Performing a quick scan, he hadn’t seen one, nor many other patrons wearing them as well. He’d spotted maybe 4 or 5 people outside the seated group and conductor. Some wore thin, black and light blue ones. Others wore more sturdy-looking ones? People had them in different colors—white, black, pink green. Maybe he could ask someone for one or why they were still wearing them.

Terry was dedicated to listening. He really was. She was talking to these folks about trying to eat good while stretching a dollar. Especially because he was gonna be staying in this expensive ass place for a minute. He was taking in all the details. Including the woman’s orange crochet cardigan and the white ribbed shirt stretched over her large chest. The white shirt was tucked into black yoga pants, waistband showcasing her soft, round belly. At a certain point, she’d put her hand on her hip; the orange cardigan behind her elbow now showing her wide set hips and full thighs that clung to the fabric. The rest of the material flared out at her knees over white light brown running shoes.

Terry heard something about freezing cooked rice. Something something starch profile. But it was the woman’s that had him at attention. He couldn’t see behind her but…he was NOT supposed to be checking out this random stranger in a random place. Being captivated by a masked maiden or whatever, this was neither the time nor place but damn she was everything.

Terry had thought these thoughts were all in his head, until the library worker behind him cleared their throat loudly for the audience of the one and only Terry Richmond. He was blushing with embarrassment and mortification, turning to meet the worker behind him. He smiled nervously and hoped the apology in his eyes came through. So much for trying to better man.

“I’m sorry about that. Is there a place I can charge my phone,” he asked while adjusting his backpack.

The worker pointed in the opposite direction of Savannah and her group. “You can go over there.” The worker was wearing a thin, black mask so he couldn’t see the bottom half of their face. But the expression in their eyes made it clear that he could actually go to hell, needed to keep it pushing and do so expeditiously. “Thank you,” Terry peered down at the worker’s badge to see their name, “Casey,” and made his way to get some juice for his phone.

Terry found an empty spot at a desk, back towards the wall and face towards the rest of the library. He could see the place with a much wider vantage point, but the conductor from earlier now out of his range. He ought to feel ashamed of himself and he did. Terry shook his head and sighed. He took a few calming breaths. In and out. In and out. Feeling a bit more comfortable, he pulls out his phone and charger, plugging it into the wall. He unlocks his phone to look at the address saved in his phone for the hundredth time. As if he hadn’t memorized it by heart. One of his safe spaces. Being with her. Figuring out what he’s going to say to her and how everything will work when he sees her again for the first time since the funeral.

He plugs in the library’s address to calculate the distance between the two of them. It was only 37 minutes. Not too bad surprisingly. Although, that might change whenever his phone got to 100 percent. His auntie had told him to be wary about the traffic. That he should overestimate at least 30 minutes to 1 hour for wherever he wanted to go, because you never knew how far you’d be set back and you never wanted to tempt fate.

He couldn’t wait to see her again. It’d only been 3 months since Mike’s funeral. A couple more since the life altering events of Shelby Springs.

— - - -

The navigation on his phone alerted Terry that his auntie’s house was coming up soon on the right. He decided to stop the bike and walk with it to the front door. The closer he got to the familiar grey house, the more he

felt the dam of emotions begin give. He walked the bike up the driveway and set it between the garage door and the big truck. Stopping in front of the red door, he drew in a few deep breaths. He was trying to steady his nerves. Terry didn’t want to break down in front of the woman’s steps. At least not in public, he didn’t want to embarrass the woman. When felt ready enough, he rapped 4 times into the hollow of the white door.

Terry heard movement from the other side, and then the clicking of locks. The door opened to reveal a woman with golden brown skin and salt-and-pepper curls. She was wearing a green blouse with wide-legged white pants and brown strappy sandals. Her eye color matched Terry’s green-blue-grey. There was no mistaking that he and Taylor Richmond were cut from the same cloth. Upon seeing her, he hugged Taylor immediately. Terry was lost in the feeling of her, the smell of her—a signature brown sugar and cinnamon. It reminded him that this was a safe space. That he could be himself here—no questions, no judgement; no putting him on a pedestal, calling him a hero; no pity and no blame from others who weren’t there.

Her nephew didn’t even let her get a word out. Taylor only let out a yelp of surprise before embracing her nephew back and chuckling. His hold on her was tight. Good lord, this boy, she thought. When she heard the sob that ripped through Terry though…oh Lord, this boy. She pulled back slightly to get a look at him. His eyes were a sea of sorrow and ache. Even in this vulnerable state, she sensed relief in him letting it out. His frame was still slightly bowed from embracing hers. She held his face in her hands.

“Well, hello to you too. If you missed me that bad, you should’ve told me to pick you up at the airport,” she said with a raised brow and wiped his tears with her thumbs. That made Terry chuckle.

“Hi, Auntie,” he said, “And I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put you out.”

“Terry, you’re literally staying in my house for God knows how long. And you’re my nephew. I’m not braving that traffic to the airport for just anybody,” Taylor said with a furrowed brow.

Terry turned his head from his auntie so he’d have space to roll his eyes, mostly at himself. Taylor caught him though. She lightly tapped him in the center of his chest with the back of her freshly manicured hands, bangles ringing in unison.

“Now, you stop all that and get in here,” Taylor said in a mocking tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” Terry obliged with a few nods, wiping at his eyes again for good measure and tugged on his backpack straps.

He followed his aunt and crossed the threshold of her home, making sure to remove his shoes before he ventured further and placed his backpack down. Taylor was making her way to the kitchen, where he guessed she was earlier before announcing his arrival. Terry took a moment to admire some of the living room. It had a grey sectional with a maroon throw blanket draped across its back. The walls were decorated with photos of his family over the years, his auntie and uncle in different places around the world, a photo of him and Mike as kids playing in the front yard caught his eye. He walked toward the picture and reached up for it. He ghosted his hand over the frame and glass and stared at it in awe and remembrance. Terry felt his aunt’s gaze on him before she spoke.

“I remember that summer clear as day. You two were a menace with those water balloons,” Taylor said, the sounds of wooden spatula hitting the edge of a pot rang through the space.

Terry looked over his shoulder at his aunt, a look of disbelief with a hint of mischief behind it.

“I wouldn’t really say menace,” he said, trailing off a bit.

“Please, the neighbors gave me and your uncle hell over it,” Taylor exclaimed, pointing the spatula at Terry through the view space of the breakfast bar and upper cabinets, “especially because you got a lot of the other kids involved in that scheme. An entire summer, you two planned that out,” Taylor said shaking her head, while returning some spices to the cabinet.

“Well, you told us to make friends and that’s exactly what we did!” Terry said with a laugh, quickly turning back to the wall to return the frame. The laugh left a smile that brought wrinkles to the edges of his eyes. Taylor was happy to see it. It was a genuine one. And she missed seeing it on her nephew’s face.

Taylor playfully rolled her eyes and gestured for Terry to sit counter.

“Come over here and wash up. I know you’re hungry.”

Terry bounced over to his aunt, joining her in the kitchen and washing his hands. He reached up and across for plates and utensils from muscle memory. Terry waited for his aunt to make her plate to then make his own (she wouldn’t let him when he offered). He opened the fridge for 2 bottles of water, and balanced them with his plate and their utensils. He then went to join her at the dining table.

After a quick prayer over the food, the two dug in. Terry groaned in satisfaction and appreciation. He missed good food like this. He could cook himself, but a big part that made the food good was that his Auntie Taylor put her heart and soul into the food she made; and did every time but he felt and knew she made this specifically for him.

“Thank you, Auntie. For the food and letting me stay here with you for a while,” Terry said graciously.

“Of course, baby. It’s nothing at all. It’ll be nice to have another person ‘round here,” Taylor said with her fork in hand, using it to emphasize the space they were in. “And besides, I’m not gonna be the only one in that kitchen. All them years working with Mr. Liu and Ken, I know you got some good meals in that brain of yours. And you’ll also be buying groceries. Lord knows the last time you were here, you almost ate us out of house and home.”

“Okay. So, rent and groceries. I can do that,” Terry agreed.

“No, I don’t need your money for rent. You keep that.” Taylor said firmly

Terry stared his aunt down, but Taylor Elise Richmond was better. So Terry stood down.

“Yes, ma’am.” he said lowly, scratching the back of his neck. He hadn’t said it under his breath, only accepting his aunt at her word. She was a reasonable woman but a staredown with her would always be a losing battle, a lesson he’d learned spending many summers here in her home.

“Now, you’ll stay in the backhouse. I put fresh sheets and towels down for you,” Taylor began. “You can enter it through the gate by the driveway. It’s got everything over there, except washer and dryer.” She stood from the table and grabbed a set of keys from the counter. “These are yours. Please do not lose them.” Terry nodded at her.

“Hmm…let’s see what else am I forgetting?” Taylor said tapping her pointing index finger against her chin. “I can’t think of anything else right,” Taylor added as she turned head to the kitchen clock.

“Oh shoot,” Taylor exclaimed. “I gotta go drop a plate of food to my neighbor.”

“Here, let me do it. I’ll clear the table and make the plate,” Terry offered after getting out of his chair and began do what he said. “I know you did a lot, preparing everything for me when I got here. So I got it.”

Taylor sighed at herself mostly. Her nephew was a persistent and she was a bit tired.

“Okay,” she relented, leaning against the counter with her hands up in mock surrender. Taylor watched as Terry put the leftover food in a plastic Tupperware container. He removed the pots and pants from the stove and placed them in the sink to soak.

Terry rounded the corner to meet his aunt at the counter. He picked the keys up.

“So, which way am I going?” he asked her.

“Just right across. It’ll be the house with the red flower decorations,” Taylor responded.

“Thank you,”

“No, thank you.”

Terry headed to the front door with the food in hand. He set it down quickly on the entry table to put on his shoes.

“Oh, one more thing,” Taylor went to meet him up front. She reached for the first drawer of the plastic chest nestled under the table and pulled. Returning to a neutral position, she placed a black face mask on the lid.

Terry glanced down at the item.

“They sick over there or something?”

“No. Well, something like that. It’s just better for her, when we go over there.”

Terry nodded and put the mask on. Taylor unlocked the door for him and gestured to his delivery destination across the street.

“I’ll be back real soon,” Terry said, kissing his aunt on the cheek.

Now on the sidewalk, he checked both sides of the street for traffic before cutting across. He spotted the house with the red flower directions and knocked on the door 3 times. He heard a voice call out, “Coming!��. Terry was tapping his thumbs on the top of the container when he realized he forgot the poor neighbor’s name. His aunt had told him but it slipped from his short-term memory. When the lock clicked, he resolved he’d ask the nice, older lady.

The door opened and he went to introduce himself but he was stopped in his tracks.

“Hi,” the woman said. “You must be Terry?”

Terry nodded, “Yes, how’d you know that?”

“Your aunt. She said a nephew was staying over, that and your eyes. You two are definitely the same. Thank you for bringing this over.” the woman said. “And my name is Savannah,” she added, holding her hand out for a handshake.

It wasn’t just any woman. It was his conductor from the library earlier today. And now he knew her name.

Thanks for reading! Until next time😇

————-

Big big shoutouts to @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @earthchica @theereina @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @sweettea-and-honeybutter @mymindisneverhere yall are fantastic your writing has shown me that i can push myself and im capable of writing more and like get in my craft frfr recently 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

#slutsareteacherstoo #atiya writes #terry x savannah #terry richmond #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black!oc #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond x black oc #rebel ridge fics

56 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 1 year ago

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

246 notes · View notes

punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter warnings: language, descriptions of violence, death, graphic description of dead bodies, angst, smut (m masturbation), sexual tension x a million

A/N: please tell me if I should use any additional tags/warnings on this story. Also this is the longest chapter yet, I knew when I wanted it to end but I kept adding more detail and more scenes as I wrote and it just got away from me oops

Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

December 2003

Chicago, IL

The cold, bitter wind blew off the lake as you trudged through the snow. You had three layers underneath your thick jacket, but you were still freezing. You had forgotten just how cold it felt this close to the lake, but you kept eagerly pushing forward.

"I think I know where we are," you said excitedly to Joel, who had been unusually silent the past few miles. "There's this golf course a couple miles from my house, I think this is it."

"Can hardly see a thing out here," was all Joel said in response. You frowned, annoyed that he was bringing you down when you were finally starting to feel hopeful.

"What's wrong?" you asked, putting an arm out to stop him. He sighed and you watched as a puff of air leave his mouth then dance away on the wind before he turned to look at you.

"I'm just -" he stopped, rethinking his words. "I'm worried. If they ain't there, we need to go to the QZ, and I don't know if it'll be as easy to get out once we're in, like it was before." He paused before adding, "And I'm worried about you... if we don't find what you're expectin'."

"Don't be worried, I know it's a long shot. But I have to try. What else do I have?" You looked up at him through your eyelashes, dusted with snowflakes. You looked so beautiful that it took his breath away. He had to jam his fist into his pocket to keep himself from reaching out and cupping your face.

"You got me," he said, looking at you softly with his heart hammering in his chest. You inhaled sharply. He didn't mean it like it sounded. "We can go out west, see if we can find Tommy. It'll be warmer out there, too," he added nervously.

You could tell he was really trying, he looked anxious as he shifted his gaze to your surroundings, his hands fidgeting deeply in the pockets of his coat. You weren't even sure where you would even begin to look for Tommy, if that plan was even possible, but if he was willing to take you all this way to find your family, the least you could do is agree to try to find his.

"Yeah, okay," you said quietly. His fidgeting stopped, and he made eye contact with you again. "If I can't find my parents, that's a good plan. We can do that." You smiled reassuringly at him now, trying to ease his mind. He gave you a small smile in return and a quick nod, then looked back down at the snow, brushing his nose with the back of his gloved hand.

"Can we get moving, now? I'd like to get out of this cold soon," you said, stomping your feet lightly, trying to get more blood to circulate in your legs.

"Yeah, sure, let's get goin'," he said, and you headed across the golf course towards a wooded area in the distance. If this was the golf course you thought it was, then your neighborhood was just on the other side of those woods.

You made it to the outskirts of your neighborhood just before dusk. The familiar tree lined streets just a few blocks away from your house made your heart flutter in anticipation. You knew you shouldn’t get excited; you knew it was unlikely they would be there, or even leave any type of note telling you where they went, but you couldn’t help it. This was where you grew up, this was your home. Your memories were etched in these streets: learning how to ride a bike, falling out of the tree and breaking your arm in your best friend’s backyard, trolling the streets at night as teenagers thinking you were tough and cool. A part of you was excited to show your home to Joel, but you quickly stopped that line of thought. He was not your boyfriend you were bringing home to meet your parents. He was your boss who agreed to help keep each other safe these past few months.

You both approached your street as darkness wrapped around you. Joel insisted you survey the street for a while to see if there was any movement before giving away your position. You reluctantly agreed, ducking behind a house on the corner, until you saw light moving inside a house. Your house.

“Oh my god,” you said breathily, “that’s my house. Joel!” you latched onto his forearm, dragging his attention onto you, “My parents!” you gasped.

You lurched forward, but Joel’s hand yanked you back. You angrily spun around to face him.

“I know you’re excited,” he began, clenching both his hands on your shoulders, “but we don’t know if that’s them, it’s been a long time. I think we should wait- “

You cut him off, saying, “It’s got to be them, what are the chances? C’mon, Joel, please!” you begged, clutching his wrist. His gaze bore into yours as you held onto him, and again you whispered, “please,”.

He groaned, unable to deny you when you looked so sweet and adamant. “Alright, just give me a few minutes, let me think of a plan,” he replied, at which your face broke out in a huge smile, still grasping his hand in yours as you bounced on your heels.

“Sure, whatever, I just want to see them,” you replied, looking back at the lights moving around your living room. You couldn’t believe it; your parents were alive! Joel had tried to curb your expectations, but it wasn’t even necessary, they were there. They were right there!

You approached your house in the darkness, unable to keep the smile from your face as Joel led you quietly across the street. He rapped his knuckles three times on the door and pulled out his revolver as he stepped to the side, ready for hostility. When the door cracked open, it was not what either of you expected.

A man you didn't recognize peered out from around the corner. All you could see was his eye, but he looked terrified as he feverishly looked back and forth between you and Joel.

"Who are you?" he asked, the door still cracked.

"Who am I? Who are you?" you replied before thinking, "this is my house, what are you doing?"

The man faltered a moment and Joel stiffened on the other side of the door. "Are you armed?" the man asked nervously, unable to see Joel's revolver at his side.

"Goddamn right we are," Joel spoke up, his grip on the gun tightening, "you better start explain' yourself."

The man went to slam the door shut but Joel was anticipating it, shoving his boot in the doorway to stop him.

"Alright, alright, I don't mean any harm," the stranger said, opening the door up more and walking backwards with his hands in the air, "come in, I'm not armed, but please don't hurt us."

Us. You entered your living room. It looked the same, except some pieces of furniture were pushed closer together. You glanced up at the wall above the fireplace by habit, seeing your high school graduation photo still prominently displayed, then your eyes settled on a woman cowering in the corner of the room. She was taller than you and blonde, with wide blue eyes and bangs that brushed her eyebrows, and she was shaking with fear. You held your hand out to Joel and pushed his revolver gently towards the floor. He resisted until his gaze met the girl in the corner, and his arms went limp.

The man who answered the door stepped forward, and you noticed now he seemed much younger, maybe around you age. He kept his arms up in front of him as he stood in front of the woman, his eyes pleading.

"Please, we don't mean any harm, we are just looking for a safe place to stay." He repeated, his brown eyes anxiously shifting back and forth between you and Joel.

Joel met your eyeline, and you sighed. Obviously, your parents had moved on, which left you distraught, but these people were harmless.

"It's fine," Joel said, tucking the gun in the back of his jeans. "This is her house," he gestured towards you, "we're lookin' for her parents, you know anythin' about that?"

The man lowered his hands now that Joel put his gun away, and drifted backwards to stand next to the woman, who still looked shaken.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't know who used to live here. We just needed someplace safe to stay for the winter, and this neighborhood was abandoned. We just picked your house randomly, I'm so sorry." the man apologized again, truly looking upset he couldn't help you more. "I'm Tim, this is Lucy," Tim rubbed Lucy's back affectionately, trying to ease her nerves.

You both introduced yourselves and they relaxed a bit, sitting down on the sofa and chairs surrounding the crackling fireplace.

"You think havin' a fire is a good idea? What if someone sees the smoke?" Joel asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Hasn't been a problem yet," Tim replied, "until you two."

You shook your head. "We didn't notice the smoke, but we saw your flashlights."

Tim smacked his palm against his forehead. "The one day I forget to pull the curtains closed, dang it!"

Joel shook his head and learned toward to Tim, "You need to be more careful. You're lucky it was just us," he said, swinging his thumb between the two of you. "You need to be better prepared, you gotta protect her," now motioning towards the Lucy.

Tim's face paled and he gulped nervously, reaching out and clutching Lucy's hand. "Can you give us some pointers? We just left the QZ two weeks ago, we are doing our best out here but," Tim gave Lucy a tight smile, "we could use all the help we could get."

Joel's eyes shifted between Lucy and Tim, then back to you. He didn't want to waste his time helping some kids who clearly were in over their heads, but the look on your face when you turned to meet his gaze changed his mind. He was finding it impossible to say no to you.

"Yeah, alright. For starters, close the damn curtains and put out the fire," he told Tim gruffly.

"How will we stay warm?" Lucy spoke up for the first time, nervously casting her gaze between you and Joel.

"Blankets. Keep your bedroom door closed. Body heat. Set up tents to sleep in inside when the temperatures really drop," you replied curtly. "Only when absolutely necessary should you risk a fire. It's still November, there's a long winter ahead of you."

Joel smiled at you proudly as you spoke, Lucy catching his look. You had been picking up tidbits from him over the past few months, and he was happy to see you've been paying attention.

Tim got up to close the curtains as Joel began to put the fire out. Lucy turned to you, shooting you a nervous smile.

"Tim and I are already in the master bedroom, do you and your boyfriend mind taking the other one?"

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," you replied quickly. Too quickly. Joel's shoulders tensed over the fireplace. "But no, that's fine, we're used to sharing a bed, and that's my old room anyway."

Lucy smiled at you politely before shifting her eyes between you and Joel curiously, her eyebrows scrunched together as if she was trying to figure something out, then relaxed her brow when Tim returned to her side.

"Alright then, we're going to get some sleep. Obviously, help yourselves to whatever's in the cupboards. It is your house, after all." Tim said, glancing at you with a quick smile.

You nodded and wished them good night as they headed towards your parents’ room. It was just as well: it would have been weird to sleep with Joel in their bed.

The door shut behind them and you got to work rummaging through the familiar cupboards, pulling out some canned food you could eat and without having to think, pulled open the drawer that housed the can opener, and then the silverware. Joel eyed you warily as he sat down at the kitchen table. He knew he wasn't your boyfriend, but the way you quickly corrected Lucy still bothered him.

You ate in silence, leaving one flashlight on between you. Joel looked around your kitchen, trying to imagine you growing up here. His eyes landed on the fridge that had some pictures stuck to it with magnets. Once you were finished eating, he picked up the flashlight and went to take a closer look.

"Oh, those were taken so long ago, I hardly even look the same," you said, noticing where his attention was drawn.

Joel tsk'ed, zeroing in on a picture of you when you were little and drawing with chalk on the sidewalk, then another where you were on a field trip with your 8th grade class, and a third picture where you were in a sparkly red dress for a homecoming dance with some boy's arm around your waist.

"As I said, those were taken a long time ago," you whispered, suddenly appearing beside him. He turned to look at you, really look at you: he could still see the similarities from the pictures in the way you smiled, the shape of your eyes, and the curve of your mouth.

You yawned and reached out to grab your backpack. "Follow me," you said quietly, not wanting to disturb Tim and Lucy.

You led Joel down the hall towards your bedroom and pushed the door open. You were pleasantly surprised that your parents left it exactly the same. You still had posters hung on your wall of the Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, and Destiny's Child. The pictures that decorated your dresser mirror were the same ones you shoved in the frame from high school: pictures of you and your friends at dances, at a restaurant, the mall, and a couple with the same boy who was on the fridge.

"Who's the guy?" Joel couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, that's Matt. He was my first boyfriend. We broke up right before college," you said coolly as you pulled out some more comfortable clothes from your backpack and left to go change in the bathroom down the hall.

Joel took the opportunity to look casually through the items on your dresser, sniffing a few different half used perfume bottles and flipping through some CDs. It was strange to be here in your bedroom. He had never considered actually being here before, too focused on the journey and not really thinking about the destination. You returned to the bedroom with a couple of extra blankets in your arms.

"My parents kept these in the hall closet, I already made sure Tim and Lucy had enough," you explained, spreading the blankets over your twin bed. You swallowed nervously, realizing this bed was smaller than the beds you've previously shared. Joel excused himself to go clean up and change as you slid into the sheets, your eyes closing in relief at the familiarity of the room. You didn't realize you had nearly fallen asleep until the mattress shifted, and your eyes snapped open. Joel's leg and arm brushed up against yours as you tried to keep your body from going rigid at the contact. It was unavoidable, your bed was too small, so you forced your body to relax and tried not to overthink it.

"Tomorrow, I'll ask ‘em about the QZ. If they can share any details about the place, then I think we can go there lookin' for your folks," he whispered in the dark.

"Mhmm, sounds good," you whispered back, still struggling to control your reaction from being so close to him. Your whole body felt hot. You told yourself it was just the extra blankets, but you knew better. Whenever he had been this close before, it was in your sleep, your mind was unable to process his touch until he was already pulling away from you. You squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"You need more room?" he asked, about to move before you stopped him.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," you said quickly, and turned to your side, finally getting a few more inches between you.

Joel stared at your back longingly. It seemed like every day something reminded him of what he would never have. The way you shirked away from his touch and how you made it perfectly clear you were nothing more than companions to Lucy felt like a punch in the gut. It's been months, and he still couldn't get his mind off you. You were becoming a burning need and it was driving him crazy. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing sleep to come so he could find some peace.

You woke up the next morning feeling well rested and warm. Really warm. With your eyes still shut, you burrowed into your bedsheets deeper to enjoy the warmth a little longer before having to wake up and face the frigid Midwest. You nuzzled your face forward and froze when your nose and lips met skin instead of a blanket. You slowly opened your eyes and found yourself face to face with Joel’s chest. You must have shifted around and ended up facing him at some point overnight. You stared at the exposed skin of his neck, taking in the little details of his tanned and pebbled skin, examining every birthmark you could lay your eyes on, then leisurely allowed your gaze to travel upwards where his prickly beard scattered over his neck, jaw, and upper lip. You inspected the patchy spots in his beard, seeing a few grey hairs sprouting up on the corners of his jaw. You noticed one bald spot resembled a heart, making you ache with the desire to press your lips there. His lips looked soft and plush, and you remembered how good they felt pushed against your own as they maneuvered your mouth open. His nose was sharp and angular, your favorite feature after his eyes. You were caught up in examining the wrinkles developing around his face when he woke up suddenly and his gaze immediately fixated on you.

You now realized you had your arms tangled around each other. Even your leg was wedged in between his under the blankets. You both lay on your sides, faces inches away, as you continued to stare at one another silently. Joel's eyes flicked down your face, examining you the same way you had just done to him. You felt your cheeks flush under the scrutiny, and you parted your lips to take in more air as your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Joel noticed the movement, his gaze fixed on your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. He exhaled softly through his nose, the puff of air blowing gently over your face. The air around you was thick with tension, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Joel lifted his hand from your hip to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your lips. You sighed and your eyes fluttered shut, unable to resist leaning into his touch this time. He took a moment to appreciate the gentle features of your face while your eyes were closed. He ran his thumb over your lips again, marveling at how soft they were. He swallowed nervously, moving his thumb from your lips to rest on your cheek, then leaned forward, closing his eyes when his nose tenderly nudged your own.

A sharp knock on the door made you gasp and jump away. You sat up in bed, clutching the blanket to your chest and Joel laid back with a frustrated groan, roughly running his hands up and down his face.

"Yes!" you yelped; your voice high pitched. Lucy's quiet voice on the other side of the door answered.

"Just checking on you, we have breakfast and coffee whenever you're ready!"

"Be right out!" you replied, voice still too high, no doubt the result of your nerves short circuiting. You stared down at your hands, unsure what to say.

"Did you sleep alright?" you finally asked, a question he usually was asking you. You fidgeted with the edge of the blanket and turned to look at him, anxiously waiting for his answer. He dragged his hands down from his face and let them rest on his stomach, then shot you a grin.

"Slept fuckin' great," he said, grinning wider as he watched your face heat up from embarrassment, and you bit your lip to hold back a smile of your own. It took everything he had to not grab you and pull you back into his arms as you stood up and walked to the door.

"I'll see you in a minute," you said shyly, and closed the door behind you. You headed to the bathroom first, giving yourself a moment to catch your breath. You hovered over the sink and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, and your face was flushed. You looked completely wrecked. What were you thinking? The tension was beginning to be too much, and maybe if you just had sex and got it out of your system, just one time, it would help clear your head. It doesn't have to mean anything. If that was all he was willing to offer you, would that be so bad? You could separate the physical from the emotional, right? You sighed, raking your fingers through your hair to tame it, and went to meet Tim and Lucy in the kitchen.

"Fuck," Joel whispered out loud to himself after you left. He palmed his erection over his sweatpants, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. It had been so long since he last jerked off. It was risky, you could come back in here at any moment, but he was convinced he would be hard half the day if he didn't take care of himself.

He pushed his sweatpants down just enough to pull out his cock, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped himself firmly, setting a fast pace right away, knowing it wouldn't take him long. He let out short, quick gasps as he replayed the events from that morning: the way he caught you looking at him when he woke up, the sound you made when you sighed into his hand, your soft lips. "Shit," he groaned through clenched teeth, his hips thrusting into his fist as he imagined those lips wrapped around his cock, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your face all flushed as you brought him into your mouth as far as you could before stifling a gag.

He frantically reached out to the bedside table where he saw a few scarves piled near the lamp, snatching one and catching his release just in time before he made a mess all over your bed. He laid there for a few minutes catching his breath and then tucked himself back into his pants, shoving the scarf deep under your bed. He reluctantly stood up to change his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair before heading towards the kitchen.

"Oh my goodness, that sounds awful!" Joel heard you saying as he walked into the room. The three of you sat around the table with mugs of coffee, some oatmeal and pop-tarts. He sat down in a chair next to you and poured himself coffee before digging into the food.

"It got really bad there, we just couldn't risk sticking around. From what others were saying, it was just as bad in any other city," Tim had finished saying. You turned to Joel, faltering for a split second when your eyes met, before explaining.

"They just told me the QZ is a shitshow. People are having their food rationed, they're doing grunt work for hardly anything in return, and some people are being attacked for their supplies and the soldiers don't do anything to stop it," you said, listing each item off on your fingers as you spoke.

"Well, it could have been worse. We heard stories about soldiers going to neighborhoods and filling up trucks with people, telling them they'll go to the QZ, but the trucks never arrived," said Lucy, eyes wide. "Rumor has it, there wasn't enough room, so the soldiers shot everyone and left them on the side of the road."

"Why would they do that?" you gasped, a hand over your mouth.

"Dead people can't turn into infected," said Tim sadly, "that's why we stuck it out in the QZ as long as we could."

"How long were you there for?" Joel asked, pausing to take a sip of the piping hot coffee. He looked around, frowning, wondering for the first time how they heated up food, and then he saw the fireplace roaring. His eyes flicked back to Tim angrily.

"I know, I know, we're gonna put it out, we just wanted to warm up a bit and make something to eat," he waved off Joel's glare with a chuckle, "besides, you couldn't even see the smoke last night."

"We were distracted, anyone else walkin' up this street will see it. I'm warnin' you right now," Joel scowled and pointed his finger menacingly at Tim, "if you get her hurt 'cause you ain't listenin' to me, I'm gonna make the QZ look like a fuckin' playground." The whole table was silent while Joel stared daggers into Tim's paling face. You were confused why Joel was so protective over Lucy, a stranger by all accounts, until the coffee kicked in and it clicked: Joel wasn't referring to Lucy. He was talking about you. You could feel the tips of your ears getting red.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the tension at the table. Then a thought occurred to you. You got up quickly and snatched a picture off the mantle over the fireplace, bringing it back to the table and slid it between Lucy and Tim.

"Did you ever see those two people in the QZ?" you asked desperately, your gaze bouncing between them as they examined the photo carefully. They frowned as they stared into the faces of your smiling parents, then slowly shook their heads.

"I'm sorry, I don't think so. But it was a big place," said Lucy, "it's possible they could be there, and we just never saw or noticed them!"

You sighed, thanking them anyway, and pulled the picture back towards you. Joel could see the disappointment in your eyes, and he wanted to take your mind off it. His gaze traveled to a corner of the kitchen where he saw a bow leaning up against the wall with a quiver of arrows. He nodded towards it.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, standing up to inspect it. You looked up and gasped.

"That's mine! Oh my god, I had no idea my parents kept it."

"Yeah, we found it in the basement. We didn't have any weapons, so we figured it was better than nothing. I've never even used a bow before," Tim said. Joel picked it up and pulled on the strings a few times, then picked up a couple arrows and flicked the tips to test their sharpness.

"You mind if we borrow it? I wanna try to get us something substantial to eat. Looks like it's gonna be a nice day," Joel said, peeking out the window up at the sun, watching the icicles on the gutters drip.

Tim agreed, since it wasn't really his to begin with. You insisted on leaving your pistol on the counter with them, in case of an emergency. Lucy shuddered when she saw the gun, and Tim picked it up to put it in the cupboard next to the sink.

"She hates guns," he explained quietly to you as you and Joel got ready to head out to hunt. "After seeing so much brutality in the QZ, she can't stand them. I'm just trying to keep her calm and happy, so I do as she says." He smiled at you both as you walked through the front door. Before you walked away, Joel turned back to Tim and just simply said "Fire," in a forceful tone, to which Tim nodded and gave a thumbs up, closing the door behind you.

The two of you walked silently down the street back towards the woods you came from, your heads swiveling every so often to make sure no one else was around. The sun was bright, and it was bouncing off the white snow, making you wince. You could tell as you walked that the few inches of snow that was on the ground was breaking up under the warmth. It would probably mostly be gone by nighttime, leaving muddy and dead grass to admire.

Once you reached the woods, Joel did his best to track any animal prints that looked fresh. He wasn't exactly an expert, but he knew enough. You followed closely behind him and kept your eyes on the trees for any movement. You had been walking around the woods for almost an hour before you stopped to rest. You found a fallen tree trunk elevated a bit from the ground that you could both comfortably sit on. You took a sip from your canteen as you glanced around. The forest was so still and quiet, it felt peaceful. You closed your eyes for a moment to savor it, unaware Joel was watching you closely.

Neither of you had mentioned anything about this morning. Joel felt a glimmer of hope inside him that maybe not all was lost, that maybe you could feel the same way he did. He wanted to talk about it, but he didn't want to scare you off and ruin the progress he had made. He cleared his throat, the noise grabbing your attention and making you open your eyes to look at him.

"So," he began, fiddling with the bow in his hands, his eyes cast downward, "I guess when we get back, we oughta ask 'em how they escaped from the QZ, then we can make a plan, get in and see if we can find your folks."

"Mhm, that sounds good," you said, watching him pick at the bow. "Maybe we should stay one more night, then leave early tomorrow."

He looked up at you now, unable to hide the shock from his face. He expected you would want to leave right away, eager to find your family. He scanned your face, seeing a small, playful smile, and he swallowed roughly. You wanted to stay another night for a reason.

His breath caught in his throat, and he could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks. He hoped you would think the cold air was to blame as he shifted his weight on the log, dragging his gaze from you and onto the trees.

"Yeah," he finally squeezed out, "that's fine, we can leave tomorrow."

You bit your lip and turned your head away from him so he wouldn't see the smile that threatened to spill across your face.

You heard a snap of a twig nearby, drawing both of your attention as you fixated on the location of the noise. You froze when you saw a fat rabbit about 10 yards away, happily munching on some grass that had been exposed by the sun. Joel slowly reached down for the bow, but without looking you reached your hand out to place on top of his, stopping him. You motioned with your fingers to hand over the bow. You were more familiar with it, but it had been a long time. It was like riding a bike, right?

You loaded an arrow slowly into the bow, and drew back the string silently, closing one eye and aiming straight ahead. You let out a slow breath, then held it for half a second before letting go of the string. You cried out in happiness when the arrow made contact, killing the rabbit instantly. Joel swiveled his head towards you with a huge grin plastered on his face, beaming with pride.

You held the rabbit by the feet as you made your way back to the house, explaining you used to shoot archery in middle school but lost interest. The adrenaline from the kill combined with the excitement of what lied ahead for you and Joel was making you dizzy with happiness. You should have known something was going to ruin it.

You were a few doors down from your house, still smiling and teasing Joel about how much of a better hunter you were when his eyes fell on the front door of your house, and he froze. You stopped automatically, following his gaze to the front door of the house that was wide open. You both stood there for a minute, waiting to see if Tim was going to appear walking back inside with a bucket of snow to melt, but he never did. You turned to Joel, your eyes filled with worry.

"Did he leave the door open?" you asked shakily, hoping there was a reasonable explanation. Joel slowly shook his head, eyes still trained on the house. You looked around you now, trying to make out any footprints in the snow that may have been foreign, and Joel looked around at the houses on the street for movement. When it appeared to be quiet and still, you both begrudgingly approached your home, afraid of what you would find.

Joel stepped through the door first, his face immediately contorting in a grimace. He held his arm out to keep you back, but you refused, dropping the rabbit and pushing past him, gasping at the sight before you. Tim and Lucy were slaughtered, laying lifeless on your living room floor. Blood seeped into the beige carpet, making it spongy and red. Their eyes were open and staring up at the ceiling, their mouths agape as blood slowly trickled from their multiple stab wounds.

You bit back a sob, turning away to focus on literally anything except them. Joel desperately wanted to comfort you, but he first needed to know the bandits were gone, so he advanced into the small house, clearing each room before returning to find you standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down your face.

He briefly noticed the cupboards were left wide open, all the food taken, as well as the pistol you left for Tim, before he reached out to envelop you in his arms. You sank into his embrace, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. His eyes flicked back to the scene in the living room.

“That fuckin’ fire, I told him to put it out,” he said, staring at the small flames still licking at the embers.

You tried to argue with Joel about burying them, but he didn’t want to risk it. He wanted to get back into the forest behind the shelter of the pine trees. You had packed up your things quickly while Joel draped a couple sheets over their bodies. He made sure to grab the rabbit you killed before hurrying you out the front door and back towards the forest, not stopping until you were miles away and you begged him to take a break. He relented only when he found a secluded spot where he felt safe making a small fire to cook the rabbit. As you ate, he examined his map, trying to figure out where you were in relation to the QZ. He was fairly certain you were heading in the right direction, his eyes lifting up towards the sun and then turned the map around in his hands.

“I think we’re here,” he told you, pointing to a green area on the map. “If we hook up with this road here,” he dragged his finger over to a thick line on the page, “then that will take us right into the city, and we can find the QZ.” You nodded, cleaning off your plates in what little snow remained on the ground. “You doin’ ok?” he asked you hesitantly. You stopped cleaning the plates to look up at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “just… that could’ve been us. It scared me.” You held his gaze for a moment, trying to express how much he meant to you with a look. Joel shook his head and leaned forward to grip your hand.

“It ain’t gonna be us, we don’t make stupid mistakes like that, you understand me?” You nodded, your eyes raking over his face, wondering if your luck will eventually run out. He gave your hand one more squeeze before standing up, urging you to pack up so you could make it to the QZ before nightfall.

The road Joel had pointed out to you on the map was deserted, surrounded only by thick forests and a few abandoned cars as you made your way slowly towards the city. You kept your gaze on the ground in front of you, absentmindedly kicking a stone here or there as you walked beside Joel, who was on high alert for raiders and gripping his rifle tightly in his hands. The road curved and steered you towards an open field, where you could now see buildings not too far off in the distance. Suddenly, Joel stretched his arm out across your chest, stopping you both. You looked up at him, confused, then followed his gaze. Not far ahead, you could see a pile of bodies on the side of the road, just like Lucy had warned. You held your breath, unable to fathom how evil those soldiers must be to execute all those innocent people. He looked down at you, and you nodded to him, telling him you were ok, to keep walking.

You continued down the road, both of you unable to keep your eyes off the bodies as you got closer. You couldn’t tell how long they had been there, the harsh winter had likely preserved their bodies, but with the snow melting today, you could make out most of their exposed faces and clothes. Your eyes scanned over a few of the bodies on top and that’s when you saw them: their bodies twisted and lifeless, laid next to one another on the side of the pile.

You dropped to your knees in the middle of the street, not even registering the pain from the impact. Then your vision went blurry before blackness creeped along the edges. You forced out a choked cry, unable to control the volume of your voice as sobs shook your body. Joel’s arms were around you instantly, cutting off your view from your parents, and kneeled down in the street with you, holding you to his chest to muffle your screams, rocking you back and forth until your breathing slowed and you ran out of tears.

Chapter Twelve

Taglist: @chiogarza, sparklejumpropequeen-777

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

362 notes · View notes

lokimobius · 1 month ago

Text

✨ 2024 in gifs ✨

rules: post your favourite and most popular post from each month this year (it’s okay to skip months)

Tagged by @mobius-m-mobius, whose gifs are absolutely gorgeous! thank you for tagging me! i love seeing you and your creations on my dash 💖

January - favourite: it HAS to be my set of mobius writing SKIN? and sulking - most popular: taylor swift performing anti-hero at the eras tour! February - favourite: literally just mobius and his milkshake 🥺 he's so cute!!!! - most popular: the iconic "i was following you." "no, i was following you!!!!" March - favourite: this set of mobius talking about jet ski's and the difference between how loki & brad listen to him. also the bonus of loki remembering what mobius said and repeating it to don 🥹 i wish that i'd added the bonus gifs in the original post, but alas, i wasn't that forward-thinking - most popular: loki and mobius smiling/laughing with each other! i love this set so much! they're everything to me. April - favourite: this lokius set i made with lyrics from taylor swift's loml. i'd never made any gifs with transitions before, so it was new to me. but i looooved the way it turned out. i also really leaned into the green/gold theme when colouring the set too! it was a lot of fun to make! 🥹 - most popular: literally just lokius standing together looking smug as brad is taken in. May - favourite: lokius + elevators!! they're always going somewhere in an elevator so i wanted to compile those moments together! i love how this set turned out bc the colour difference between s1 & s2 is literally hell and i think i managed to match them well! - most popular: lokius in their tuxes in breaking brad. breaking brad you will always be famous to me!!!! June - favourite: can i offer anyone some thor/jane & loki/mobius parallels... - most popular: tom hiddleson behind the scenes of the actors on actors photoshoot! July - favourite: the legendary "it is adorable that you think you could possibly manipulate me" scene 🤭 - most popular: tom hiddleston for the 2024 paris olympics!!! August - favourite: just a general lokius in s2 gifset bc i love them - most popular: IT'S GOT YOUR SHAPE TO IT September - favourite: mobius in the ikea scene looking frustrated and cute - most popular: "i'd never stab anyone in the back! that's such a boring form of betrayal!" 😔 October - favourite: the variant/breaking brad parallel with loki leaving/staying - most popular: lokius on their date at the worlds fair eating cracker jack! "it tastes like ash." November - favourite: it's never too late to change / trying to fix what's broken is hard. hope is hard. - most popular: what did you expect? it's president loki! December - favourite: owen knocking something over in r&a and being cute af about it in the loki s2 bloopers! - most popular: lokius (tom & owen) in the s2 bloopers wearing the tuxes

apologies for the long post, i did a little bit of yapping and now i'd like to do a little more...

i've had SO much fun creating gifs this year, especially for lokius! seeing everyone screaming, crying, theorising, etc., in the tags is literally my favourite thing ever - i literally read ALL tags so pls keep them coming.

thank you for supporting the lokius brain rot. i love this fandom so much, and i'm grateful for all of the friends/mutuals i've made 💖

tagging @dilfmobius, whose gifs i also love! 🥰

#tagged #year in gifs #i love making gifs so much!!!!!!!#icb i've made so many sets this year!#i've made 62 in total!!!!

32 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 2 months ago

Text

The dad who stepped up; John Wick x oc teen

*Author's note*

Okay so this is the first update in what feels like forever. Now that I'm on winter break and away from home I can start to feel the creative juices flowing. I might also post up some other stuff that I've had saved but didn't feel confident in posting before as some christmas gifts for you all.

But this oneshot (possibly might turn this into a series but only AFTER I've seen all the John Wick films. I've seen bits and pieces on youtube but never all the way through *dodges flying objects*) So just to put in prespective this is a prologue before the first film. Like the five years John has once he retires. But I wanna see how all of you like this and if anyone wants to see this turned into a series, give me a shoutout below and comment whether you wish to be tagged or not.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, parental abandonment, cancer mentioned.

Taglist:

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@waddles03

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@remussl0vers

@queensdivas

_______________________________________________________

If you think being a teenage girl is bad enough, try being the teenage daughter of the infamous Baba Yaga. Well not blood related but I’ve known John Wick for most of my pre-teen/teenage life. He was a wild card I never expected coming into mine or my mother’s life, hell men like him only exist in my mom’s Fabio romance novels.

Even though I would later in life learn of who he truly was, I still can’t help but think back to the days when he first came into our lives.

Age 11

It all started when I had came back from my first summer at Camp Walden. I had learned about this camp from my best friend and I pleaded with my mom for me to go. At first she acted like she wasn’t even going to allow me to go but then on the last day of school, she had surprised me with an application of approval and a plane ticket for me to go to Camp Walden.

I spent eight weeks at the all-girls camp learning how to fence, canoe, all the typical fun camp stuff. Made some new friends and would write letters to my mom every single night (as per her conditions since there wasn’t any cell service up there).

I got off the plane with all my bags and looked around the gate until I caught sight of my mom. She held out a welcome home sign and when she found me from the load of passengers, she and I raced up to each other and hugged each other tightly. She picked me up rocking me back and forth kissing me repeatedly.

“Oh I hope you had a lousy time at that camp because I am never sending you there again, I missed you too much!”

“I missed you too mom.”

“Wait did you…..you got your haircut?” when I had went I had pretty long hair and now I come back from camp with my hair up to my shoulders.

“Yeah when we were playing truth or dare, a girl was dared to cut someone’s hair and since I had the longest I was the victim. Luckily for me her mom’s a stylist and she learned from her. Are you mad?”

“I would be but she did something I’ve never been able to make you do since you were little.” We both laughed as she held me close to her again and we began to leave the airport.

“So mom how’s your summer been?”

“Oh the typical single mom empty nester. Watching trash tv and drinking mimosas.” I shook my head at her. “But I wanna hear more about camp. Eight weeks of not hearing your voice is way too long for me.”

“Yeah it was a lot for me too mom. But it was a lot of fun. I got some pics of some foxes that came by the camp.”

“Ohhh exciting. I know you’ll be adding those to your collection my little fox kit.”

“Yeah. And canoeing is much more difficult than they make it seem on TV. We got tipped over like five times and we didn’t even leave the docks.”

“Awww man, I’m sorry baby.” We threw my stuff into the trunk and I rode in the passenger seat while mom drove us out of the airport parking lot and we headed for home. “Oh by the way your aunt Chessy just had to be here to see you come home so expect to be smothered by her.”

“Did she bring Sammy?” I asked excitedly.

“You know your aunt. Never leaves home without that dog of hers.” I clapped my hands excitedly.

“Also baby I have surprise to tell you once you get settled in.”

“A surprise? What is it?”

“It’s a surprise and like I said I want you to get settled in first before I tell you what it is. It’s tiring flying from coast to coast non-stop so I want you to take as much time as you need to get settled.” I let out a groan as I sat back in the seat. When you’re a kid and you hear the word ‘surprise’ you never want to wait for it. But grownups just love to do that to you.

Before long we finally arrived at the house and mom put the car in park in the driveway and turned the engine off. I stepped out of the car and looked at my house in relief. The door was left wide open and I immediately heard barking as Sammy, my aunt’s golden retriever raced out and came over to me.

“Sammy!” he came up and sat down allowing me to hug and kiss him.

“Oh now this fully grown woman can’t be my little Sarah can it!?” I heard aunt Chessy’s voice say as she came out. I let go of Sammy and ran up to her and she too picked me up just like mom did at the airport. Spinning me around and rocking me back and forth. “Oh welcome home baby girl. We missed you soo much! Hey,” she separated our hug and took both my arms in her hands as she continued, “Don’t you dare convince your mom to send you that way again for far too long. You’re lucky I soil you too much otherwise I wouldn’t have extended my stay.”

“I love you too aunt Chessy. Camp was fun but there’s truly no place like home.”

“Amen to that sister. You’re just in time I made cornbread and chili your favorite.”

“Did I just hear cornbread and chili?” mom perked up as she carried my bags over her shoulder.

“Yeah it’s on the stove but Sarah gets the first bowl. And Helen don’t carry all that weight, that’s what I’m here for.” Aunt Chessy grabbed my bags while mom briefly gave her a glare but aunt Chessy gave her a look back. “C’mon kid, let’s get you inside and well fed.” As we walked back inside with Sammy sticking to mom’s side whimpering and licking her hand, that’s when I began to notice the black mustang also parked in our driveway.

I sat down at my balcony bed while aunt Chessy began unpacking my bags. I had my bowl of chili with the cornbread inside of it in my lap and I said.

“Hey aunt Chessy, how’d you afford a mustang from the rental car place?”

“Oh I wish I could afford one in real life. But that car doesn’t belong to me.”

“So what did mom get it or something?” I asked. That’s when we heard my mom giggling. I turned and looked outside and saw her with a man right out by the pool. The man was sitting on one of the pool chairs and I could see he had pure black hair, wore sunglasses and a dark t-shirt. “Who is he?”

“Sarah it’s none of my business how my big sister ruins her life she’s a big girl.” Aunt Chessy said as she began taking out all my dirty clothes. I set my bowl of chili aside and went up to her and said as I wrapped my arms around her right one.

“C’mon aunt Chessy I need to know. Who is he?” aunt Chessy let out a deep sigh and turned to me.

“His name is John Wick. Your mom met him at the gas station when she accidentally forgot to grab her wallet to pay for gas. If you ask me I think he wanted something a bit more than just to be a good Samaritan.”

“What do you mean?” this time we could hear a splash by the pool and mom’s laughter before it turned to shrieks and then back to laughter again. Aunt Chessy let out a groan as she rolled her eyes. I went to grab my camera while Aunt Chessy continued on her rant.

“Look you know how I’ve felt about men especially after your father left you guys. So I gotta ask myself what does a man like that who belongs in a Fabio romance novel want with a woman who is trying to work out her life as a single mom? Then I realize there’s a million reasons why that man has stuck around, and all of it is just waiting to be spent from the New York bank.” As she talked I stood there with my camera to see both my mom and John in the pool together at first playing like little kids before being wrapped in each other’s arms.

“What you think he’s loaded or something?” I asked.

“Ehh what do I know? But I’ll tell you one thing, this man’s got your mother eating out of the palm of his hand. They do everything together, they go on drives in that car of his, they swim together, they go out to eat dinner every single night. But you know what, meet him. See for yourself, don’t let me influence you.”

I saw them making goo-goo eyes at each other before kissing each other as they remained in the pool. I snapped a quick picture of them and felt an odd feeling in my stomach as I looked down at them. Could he be the surprise that mom was talking about?

After I had my lunch and aunt Chessy was now doing my laundry, I got on my bathing suit and put on a Shadow the hedgehog t-shirt over it along with some old sandals. I grabbed my sunglasses and decided to head out to the pool.

There I saw John once again sitting on the pool chair with my mom just coming out of the pool and grabbing a towel.

“Ohh Sarah, didn’t expect you to come down so soon.”

“Figured I’d stretch my legs out in the pool. At least this time I won’t have algae or wet sand between my toes.” I said wiggling my toes as I kicked my sandals off my feet.

“Well since you’re here I guess there’s no time like the present ehh? Sarah, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.” She came up behind me and walked us closer to John. “Sarah, this is John Wick.”

He removed his sunglasses and I finally got a better look at his face. A sharp facial structure and a scruff beard that had some hidden grey to it. Deep brown eyes that pierced through my very soul and almost sent a chill of fear up my spine.

“Hello.” His voice had a slight ruggedness to it but it also had warmth and friendliness to it. Not like how when someone who has a rasp to their voice it makes them creepy.

“Hi, Mr. Wick.” I greeted shyly as I placed my sunglasses on top of my head.

“Well I can’t believe I’m finally meeting the famous Sarah. I’ve been looking forward to this all summer.” John said as he adjusted himself to sit up properly and get a better look at me.

“Really well here I am.” I said with a shrug.

“Helen, you’ve been holding out on me. The way your mom has talked about you I expected to meet a little girl but you are so grown up and just as beautiful as her.”

“I’ll be 12 soon. How old are you?”

“Sarah!” exclaimed my mom as tugged me by my shoulders.

“It’s fine Helen. There should actually be no shame in children asking adults their ages.” John assured my mom. “To answer your question I’m 43.”

“That’s 32 years older than me! How old are you again mom.” I asked looking up at her.

“Wow if only you were this interested in math when it comes to your homework. Look I’m going to head inside and get some food. Maybe even check to make sure Chessy is doing the laundry correctly. I love my little sister but sometimes she can be a scatter brain when it comes to laundry. Be right back.” With that mom left me alone with her new ‘boyfriend’.

“My aunt said that you guys met at a gas station, is that true?”

“Yes that is true. I don’t know the full story but from what I did see, the cashier was giving your mother a pretty hard time so I thought I’d give her a hand and help pay for her gas. And not three days later at the Walmart nearby she actually helped me with finding the better laundry detergent. From there I guess you could say the rest is history.”

“How come my mom didn’t mention you in the letters she’d send me?” John let out a deep sigh and looked at me with a sympathetic look.

“I imagine this is pretty awkward, right?” I merely shrugged as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Your mom felt that this type of news would’ve been better to be talked about in person. But I want you to know this Sarah, these past eight weeks I’ve really come to care for your mother. And I wish I can do the same for you, but if not I’ll understand and I’ll walk away.”

Now this is something I’ve never heard of happening in real life. Normally the partner wouldn’t allow their lover’s child to dictate whether or not they’ll stay together. But just from seeing mom and him together, that’s the happiest I’ve seen her since……him.

Needless to say (and as you all know) John Wick stuck around with my mother. They waited to get married until a year into their blossoming relationship. And it was also after their marriage that mom and I would leave our home of Nappa, California and go to live with John in his house in New York.

It was out in upstate New York so just roughly about a 20-30min drive away from the city. It was fairly similar in size to our old house back home with wide open spaces, a good sized backyard, and a two door garage.

Ever since they got married, mom’s always tried to have John and I do some ‘father-daughter’ bonding time. And even though John did his best to understand my interests whether it came to gaming, music, or movie trivia, there was just something about being alone with him that didn’t sit right with me. I already got fooled once by my dad once, I wasn’t going to let another one do the same thing to me again.

Age 13

I was sitting in the passenger seat of John’s mustang as we drove into the city to pick up some groceries. Mom had to suddenly be called into work with an emergency and John said he didn’t want to leave me alone in the house by myself.

After a brief back and forth with each other of how whether or not I was capable of staying at the home by myself, I ended up losing that battle and had to tag along. As we walked through the aisles picking out everything we needed, my eye soon caught a bunch of people at a table advertising something.

I noticed their posters for the Gotham Archery classes. And there happened to be one right nearby in Manhattan. I turned to John to see him looking at some deals on eggs then turned my attention back towards the table. Archery did always fascinate me but there was never any schools or lessons back at California that were within driving range of us so I could only fantasize about shooting an actual bow and arrow like Legolas or Merida did.

“You want to go talk to them?” I jumped at John’s voice and looked up at him.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at them for the past five minutes without even blinking. So either you’ve got some beef with one of those gentleman or you’d like to go talk to them and think about joining them.”

“Yeah that’s funny. Me doing archery.” I scoffed as I brushed it off with a laugh.

“What’s so funny about that?” he leaned his arms over the shopping cart as he raised his brow at me. One look at his eyes and I knew he wasn’t kidding around.

“You—you’re being serious?”

“If it’s something you’re interested in, you should go for it.” A strange fluttery feeling came into my chest when he said that. Dad never really took the time to encourage me to go out for something, it was always mom who tried to push me to achieve what I want. So hearing this from an adult male, especially someone like John Wick felt strange and new to me.

I took a deep breath and walked over to the table and it was there I began my journey into the world of archery.

After bringing John over to the table so that he could get some of the information too (since I was under 18 I needed to have an adult present for the information given and to ensure that there would be an adult present whenever I was taken to classes).

We had a meeting that night with my mom and she was so proud that I had managed to find something to do here in New York. And already having John be the chosen supervised parent to go along with me also made her happy to know that we finally managed to find something to bond over.

After several months of lessons, I actually ended up doing a lot better at archery than I could imagine. So much so that my instructor encouraged me to participate in the upcoming tournament that would be held at their school in Brooklyn.

Mom, aunt Chessy and John all came to support me in the tournament but when I began to see the large crowd that was gathering around to see all of us that was competing, my heart began to race and my stomach began churning.

“Full house, oh sweet Jesus.” I groaned as I held my stomach tightly. I fiddled with my archer’s glove unhooking and re-hooking the straps as my anxiety was starting to go through the roof.

“And here we have future gold medalist Olympic archer Sarah Wick.” I shook my head trying to hide the smile etching at the corner of my mouth and looked up to see John with his phone pointed right towards me.

“Haha you’re such a comedian.” I mocked sarcastically.

“No joke. Those archers don’t know who they’re about to go against.” I winced slightly as I looked down and fiddled with my glove once again. “Hey, everything okay?” he asked concerningly. He pocketed his phone and sat down in front of me.

Could I maybe trick him into taking me home? Mom never fell for the classic ‘fake sickness’ trick whenever I needed to get out of something. Guess that’s just something mom’s automatically know, but John—he wouldn’t know and I’ll bet he wouldn’t even ask questions about it.

“I’m not feeling so good John. I think I need to go home and lay down. Yeah that’s it let’s go home.” I went to sit up but he held onto my shoulder and pressed his other hand to my forehead.

“You don’t seem to be running a fever.”

“It’s a stomach bug. Suddenly started up out of nowhere.” I let out a pained hiss as I groaned lowly. When I looked up at him, one look on his face told me that he wasn’t buying this act for a second. “This isn’t working is it?”

“It was a good try.” He acknowledged giving me a wink. I dropped the act as I let out a deep sigh.

“How do you guys always seem to know when we’re faking it?”

“I may have only been in the parenting game for a short time, but I know how to spot the classic ‘feigning sick bit’. Even pulled it myself from time to time. Now you wanna share what’s really going on?”

I don’t even know myself why I suddenly felt like coming clean to him. Whether it was him not talking down to me in order to get the answer, or him even acknowledging that I did my best to fake him out. Either way I finally came clean to him.

“I didn’t think there was going to be so many people here to see us compete. It’s stressing enough with the judges, but the people in the audience……I’m just—so afraid that I’m gonna make a total fool of myself.” John let out a soft hum as he nodded softly.

“I believe what you’re going through right now is what they call stage fright. Everyone gets it, even me.”

“You? I don’t believe you.”

“Oh yeah. Believe it or not this 45 year old, 6’1 giant of a man has and still sometimes deals with anxiety and stage fright.” We both softly chuckled at his statement.

“How do you get by?”

“One step at a time. I can only control what I can. And yes there will be the unknown that you wish you could say ‘hey I want you to do this’ or ‘you’re gonna do it this way’. But we can’t let the fear dictate over something we love.”

“Wow…..that’s—deep.”

“I try my best.” John merely shrugged, which got another laugh out of me. “And think of it this way; after today: No one but your mother, aunt, instructor and I will remember what you did here today. So don’t do your best for those nameless people out in the audience, do it for the ones that really know you.”

“Thanks John. That really helped more than you know.” He gently squeezed my shoulder and said.

“Glad I could help. And good luck out there.” He stood up and walked back to join my mom and aunt at their seats.

Whenever mom gave me advise or encouragement while she always looked on the positive aspects of it, just between the lines I knew there were times that she would sugarcoat certain things. Like there was too much optimism in certain events that I knew wouldn’t be good but she’d always make it seem like everything was going to be okay.

John, however, just hearing him speak about the reality of the situation but not making it sound too cynical. He somehow managed to find the perfect balance of optimism and realistic philosophy.

And it paid off. By the end of the tournament I had gotten three bronze medals and a silver medal for all the categories I had decided to compete in.

As the years went by, there would also come a test that would push the Wick family to the extreme. When I turned 14, my mom was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor. There would be days when she was able to live with us and live a normal life, but there were dark days when she’d have to live in the hospital for weeks on end.

Age 15

This was one of mom’s bad weeks. One day when John and her were out on their wedding anniversary date out in the city. I had gotten a call from John telling me that she had collapsed when they were walking along the docks after their dinner.

However unlike before, this time the tumor had attacked her so aggressively that she now has to be on a ventilator to help her breathe properly. The doctor’s say that even though there’s brain activity, she’s unfortunately locked in a coma-like state and it’s unknown on when she’ll wake up…..or ever.

It was also throughout this time that John and I began to lean more on each other now more than ever. Especially when he came back into the picture out of nowhere.

It was just after school when John and I decided to visit mom in the hospital. I had gotten my German test that he had helped me study for and I wanted to tell mom how I had aced it. She always wanted to make sure that I never fell back on my class work no matter what events or after-school activities I had. We arrived at the hospital parking lot and as we got out of John’s mustang, I asked him.

“Before long I’ll have to start driving, think I can practice driving the mustang?”

“Just because you passed your German exam doesn’t make you an expert on my mustang.” He told me.

“Oh come on John. I’ve been paying attention to how you shift the gears and I dare say I’m confident enough to drive it.”

“There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance.”

“That hurts John. That really hurts!” I exclaimed as I held my heart like I had been shot.

“Yeah, yeah report it to Child services. Come on.” we headed into the building and checked in to see my mom. We walked down the familiar corridor and saw mom in the same position as she has since her check in. Laying still and motionless on the bed. I came up and sat beside her and took her hand in mine.

“Hey mom, we’re back. Just like we promised. Hey get this, you know that German test that John’s been helping me with? I aced it. Can you believe it, after months of struggling I finally get an A+ for that class.”

“The real credit goes to your daughter Helen. She’s the one who took the test, all I did was teach her a few tricks to remember what she needed to learn.” Said John as he sat on the other side of my mom’s bed. Soon my mom’s doctor came in and greeted us.

“Mr. Wick, Ms. Wick.”

“Dr. Sanchez. How has she been?” John asked.

“Well some good news at least. We’ve noticed how she’s been able to now breathe on her own so we took her off the ventilator and for the past ten hours she’s been breathing just fine on her own.” We both sighed in a huge relief.

“Any signs on when she’ll wake up?” I asked.

“That unfortunately is still yet to be determined. But we’ll continue to constantly monitor her progress and we’ll call you with any new updates Mr. Wick.” He said the last part to John since he was the emergency contact for my mom.

“Thank you Dr. Sanchez, truly.” He nodded and soon left the room leaving the three of us alone. John took his spot back at my mom’s right side while I fiddled with the new bracelet that John had gifted them for their anniversary. “You were right about the bracelet.”

“Told yah. Mom’s never been one for clunky or flashy jewelry. And it really is beautiful.” I stroked along the silver flowers that decorated the bracelet.

“I’m gonna head down and get some coffee, you want anything from the cafeteria?”

“I’ll be okay till we get home.”

“I’ll get you some water.”

“John!” I whined.

“You don’t drink enough of it, you gotta stay hydrated.” He said standing up and circled around mom’s bed before gently shaking my head around before leaving the room. I shook my head and said.

“He really is a great guy mom. We’ve actually been getting along more lately since you had to stay here. He’s been taking me to school, archery practice, helping out with my homework. And been the support system I needed even though he’s hurting himself. He may not want to admit out loud, but I sometimes hear him cry at night without you there. So—keep fighting mom. Please, we need you home.”

I lay my head down on her bed as I gripped her hand in both of mine as tightly as I could.

“Helen? Sarah?” I gasped as my eyes shot wide open. I turned towards the door and there I saw someone I never expected to see ever again. My dad.

“D-d…..d…..” I stammered.

“My god, Sarah is that really you? God look at you you’re all….”

“What the hell are you doing here?!” I snapped. “How did you find us?!”

“I-I didn’t. My son’s here for his final chemo treatment.” His son? He went and had another kid after he abandoned me and mom? “So Helen’s got……”

“I don’t need to tell you shit!” I snapped. “Get out of here since that’s what you’re good at!”

“Sarah come on. It wasn’t my fault. I thought you were right behind me, honest!” bullshit. He knew what he was doing that day, I’ve come to grips with it. “That day at the mall…..”

“Don’t ever mention that day to me. I was so—so.......” my voice quivered as I tried to contain my emotions that were boiling inside of me after 8 years.

“Oh hey, hey. Don’t-don’t cry baby girl.” He tried to comfort me. I heard his footsteps getting closer to me and once I saw his feet within my vision I pushed him back aggressively. “Sarah!” my dad exclaimed in surprise.

“Get out.” I lowly sneered.

“Baby girl I’m trying to make things right with you.”

“Get out, get out, get out.” I kept muttering as my hand fidgeted at the door.

“Sarah I’m your father—” the second he stepped closer to me. I lashed out with my best right hook and nailed in right across the face screaming at him.

“GET OUT!!!” I tackled him beating him with my fists. Punching, clawing and slapping him repeatedly in a blind rage repeatedly telling him to get out through my grunts and growls.

I really don’t recall what all happened after that but I soon felt arms wrap around my waist trying to pull me away. I tried fighting back but my arms were soon pinned to my side as I heard John’s voice suddenly break through my rage.

“Sarah enough! Easy! Easy!” I stopped and my vision became clear once again. My dad’s face was bleeding profusely as nurses and security had now came to see what the commotion was.

John escorted me out but security tried to stop him. There were words exchanged between the two of them before John took me out of the hospital. All the while keeping a secure grip on me but not manhandling me.

Everything felt—numb. The sounds of the city were muffled and I barely felt myself being moved around. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking and my heart was pounding so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest. Never before have I felt such rage to get me into that blind state and attack someone like that.

Next thing I knew, I suddenly felt a stinging sensation on my hand and I went to lash out but a hand stopped me and my vision suddenly became clear. I found myself back at home with John kneeling in front of me, my wrist gently grasped in his calloused grip.

“Easy, easy. You’re home now Sarah.” Home. Frantically my eyes looked around to see if it was true and I soon came to realize what had happened. I was home, my real home.

Like a crack steadily increasing along a newly broken mirror, my shock suddenly began to overflow as tears rapidly fell down my face. Immediately I wrapped my arms around John’s waist as I buried my face into his chest and wept hysterically.

“I’m sorry John….I’m so sorry John…..I-I didn’t want you to see…..” I spoke through my hysterical sobs. John instantly wrapped his arms around me, one hand rubbing my back while the other was buried within my hair gently stroking and massaging my scalp.

“It’s okay, let it out. Just let yourself fall apart. I promise to hold you together.” He softly whispered into my ear. The moment he had said that, I had let out the most gut-wrenching, raw, almost animalistic sob of rage, grief, self-hate, confusion, and sorrow that I had kept bottled in since the day my dad abandoned me.

And true to his word, John kept his tight yet comforting hold on me with each raw sob that came out of my mouth.

After what felt like an eternity and for doctoring up my bruised and bleeding knuckles and palm, I lay there in my room just fingering the bandaged wraps that John had placed over my wounds. We didn’t speak after my breakdown but somehow he knew that I needed to have some alone time.

Slowly I got out of bed and headed towards mom and John’s room. The door was shut so I went up and knocked so softly I thought he wouldn’t hear me.

“Come in.” I heard him say. I opened the door and saw John laying across the bed. “Hey Sarah. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Can…..we talk?” John nodded and allowed me to sit on mom’s side of the bed. I pulled my legs up to my chest as I took mom’s pillow and held it over my knees. The faint scent of her perfume still lingered onto the pillow. “Did she ever tell you about him?”

“Your aunt made it clear that your father was a…..sensitive subject.” Of course she did.

“I was seven years old. We were out at the mall having our monthly daddy-daughter date. He took me out to red lobster to eat, and then took me to all my favorite stores. Next thing I know as I’m looking at some video games, he’s just gone. I called out for him in the crowded mall but I couldn’t find him anywhere. It was pure luck that a mall cop found me after 20 minutes. I was so frightened and confused…….” I sniffled and wiped away the tears that were burning in my eyes. “Why did he just leave me like that? Was it something I did or said or—And to come back after supposedly living his new life…..”

“Hey, hey.” His large hand encompassed both of mine as I was clenching mom’s pillow so tightly my knuckles were turning white. His touch alone made me relax even though I didn’t want to. “He had no right to suddenly come up to you after all these years. And you are not to blame for him abandoning you.”

“Then why did he do it?” I asked brokenly.

“I wish I had an answer for you. But know that no excuse he can come up with will ever justify what he did.” he wrapped his arm around me, allowing my head to rest just over his heart once again. I shut my eyes allowing a few tears to fall drip down my face.

“You’ve been nothing but supportive and loving to me these past few years. And I never thought I’d find myself saying this but I like you John. I really, really do like you. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to call you…... you know. It still hurts to even say the word out loud.”

“I understand. I never expected you to come forth and call me ‘that word’ as soon as your mom and I got married. I just wanted you to know that you’ve got another person in your corner whenever you feel like you can’t talk to your mom or aunt about something.”

“Thank you John, for everything.” We looked at each other lovingly and he brought me into a tight hug.

“And can I just say, that was an impressive right hook you gave him.” I laughed as I buried my face chest and gripped onto him tighter while I felt him place a loving kiss to the crown of my head.

One last thing I’ve noticed about John were his hugs. There truly was a difference between the way my mom hugs and the way he hugs. Mom’s hugs were always a gentle comfort like being wrapped in a fleece blanket.

John’s hugs—well his were like a protective barrier. Like nothing in the world could get to me and he was going to ensure it with each tight, comforting squeeze he gave. And while it felt like my bones could pop and break any second, it felt comforting to know that such strength could be so gentle when needed to be.

#john wick #john wick imagine #john wick x oc #john wick x helen wick #john wick imagines #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves #keanu reeves character imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanuverse #keanu characters

33 notes · View notes

ukininayu · 8 months ago

Text

I WANNA BE YOUR BOYFIREND! —INO TAKUMA

SYNOPSIS. poor Ino, having to deal with the most blind and oblivious crush... Maybe think abiut getting your eyes n heart checked...

CONTENT. NB!reader. (sorry if it sounds closer to f!) Childhood friends to lovers. Cheesy. Got the photographer! Ino idea from @colonelarr0w ! I asked the anon question on may 4.. Wowzers

WC. 2222! That's so kewl! Ah! Finally reached 2k words and I'm stopping cause this has been in my drafts for too long and I can't seem to add any more words. A/N. Oh boy. I wanted to use his first name (takuma/) but I'm too tired to edit. So I just added tags and posted it.

Ino Takuma was and is your bestest friend.

And you were the person Ino Takuma was hopelessly in love with.

meeting him when you were six and was picked on by a group of boys calling you names. Poor you couldn't do anything but to sniff and feel the tears pooling in your eyes.

2003.

you remember when he rushed to help you, his two small hands occupied with a handful of pebbles, and with those pebbles he threw them as hard as a six year old could, aimed right at the back of the mean group of kids who were tormenting you.

you remember the shocked looked plastered on their faces before screeching and running away from the playground and back to their non-existant parents, too frightened to look back.

you remember your now-best friend walking up to you, acting as cool as he can while he helps you stand up, adding in an " 'r you okay?".

He remembers when you held his hand and asked for him to help you stand up. when you did, you rubbed the tears pricking on your eyes off with your forearm, and with your free arm, you used it to hug him. thanking him while suppressing your hiccups.

He remembers cheekily smiling as his pretty crushmate thanks him like he was their knight in shining armour.

He remembers offering ice cream while pointing at a nearby ice cream stand in order to cheer you up, as his mind believed, "ice cream would solve all problems!" even exclaiming it to you.

He remembers the way your eyes lit up when he did what he did and you nodded in agreement to all of them.

He remembers holding hands with you as you guys walk to the stand to buy twin pops, opening the popsicle and letting you pick what side you want first.

He remembers the two of you counting from one to three before pulling the side of your popsicles towards yourselves. unfortunately for you, your popsicle broke and you had the smaller side.

He remembers offering to switch popsicle sticks instead, sticking the hand holding the bigger popsicle out for you to get.

he remembers when you nodded happily, taking the offered popsicle and giving the smaller one to him, which he accepts as happily.

He remembers the two of you, holding hands once more, walking back to the playground and resting on the playground stairs, starting up a random conversation, exchanging names, then quickly changing topics every two minutes or so.

(he remembers starting a war with you the next day, the enemies being the said bullies.)

He smiles, in his own world— no, in the shared world you and him made, talking about the past with you was always the best.

You sigh and sit up, leaning on his bed's headboard, your eyes darting around his soft bed you both were laying on in search for the remote, but your eyes seem to scan around his room. oops. "enough talking, we should continue watchi— hey!" you shout a little too loudly and ino looks at you with a raised brow.

"what is it?" he calls your name when you don't answer. After another call of your name and you still don't, he decides to look at where you were looking at. and behold, it was his first camera. it was weirdly placed in the front and center of all his other cameras, placed so that it would be the center of attention.) that was placed on his wall shelf.

2007.

It was finally his birthday! he could barely get himself to sleep the night before, too excited for the upcoming event. but in honesty, he was excited on what you would do with him to celebrate! maybe have a food fight? go to the arcade? he doesn't care, as long as you were celebrating with him!

He rushes down the stairs and loudly pushes the door open to run to your meet up spot with him. the playground stairs, the one off-placed stairs that was hidden below the big green slide.

And there you were, sitting on the stairs, holding something behind your back, when you saw him, you waved at him, shouting for him to come quick.

"Happy Birthday, Takuma!" you excitedly clap, but his attention isn't really on you. "Whatcha hidin'?" he asks, not bothering to hide his excited expression. "oh! nothing!" you respond with the same look on your face, only more cruel. "C'mon! Is that a gift? maybe a gift for… you know, somebody's birthday?"

you nod your head up and down before grabbing the gift from your back and placing it on your lap. "I was planning to give this to you a little later, but you can open it now, if you want!" you give the signal for him to get the nicely wrapped gift.

In a flash, Ino sits next to you and grabs the gift, placing it on his lap. "I wrapped it for you! so you better not tear it apart." you warn when his hands start to open the gift. he only scoffs and continues opening the ribbon first. "Of course, madam. i'd never!" he jokes, though true.

After he opens the gift, he exhales out a "woah..". "do you like it, takuma?" you nervously ask as he now holds the small camera you saved up for him.

When he finishes admiring the camera, he wraps one arm around you. "I love it! I promise I'll always take pictures of you using this!"

"You still have this camera?!" all of the sudden you were jumping to reach the old camera. "Surprising how you still remember." Ino thinks aloud before walking over and getting the camera for you.

When he hands it to you, you take it in your hands. "Does it still work?" you ask, your finger hovering over the button that turns on the digital camera, and he only nods.

For an old camera, it barely took any time to load. You stop when it does, clueless. and he realizes that. "need a little help?" you hum, "..How do I see the gallery?"

after he tells you and you figure it out, you run back to his bed to sit and he follows before sitting beside you.

Starting from the first ever photo the camera took, you couldn't help but smile in nostalgia. and your smile infecting him.

The pictures dated from when it was his tenth birthday till the first year of senior high school. one by one you and him skim over the hundred photos.

Majority of the saved pictures were you, it seemed like Ino had a liking in taking stolen pictures of you, too. Whether you were going down the green slide or studying for senior exams.

You notice there were barely any pictures of him saved in the gallery. The few images that you found of him was when he was with you. You either taking the picture yourself and pulling him in the cameras view, or the secretly taken photos you had managed to take of him when he didn't catch you.

He really did take his old promise to heart.

While he and you enjoyed the feeling of thinking about the memories you had made together, the sudden ringing of your phone alarm disrupted you both.

"Ah, shit.. Completely forgot about that." You murmur. You reach for your phone and turn the alarm off as you stand up and take you bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

"Oh? Where 'r you going?" He asks out of curiosity, "sorry, that's a secret!.. Well, sorry Ino. I got to go, I swear we'll finish our movie marathon tomorr ow!" He only nods, and you rush out of his apartment, shouting a "bye!" Out the way.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. . . . 　　˚　　 *　

Ino was no idiot. He knew you were going back to your oh-so lucky partner. The alarm was probably a reminder for an upcoming date.

Talking about your partner..

when your relationship with your significant other went public back in your second year of senior high, you dropped the largest bombshell on everybody you knew or knew you.

on him.

If it wasn't crystal clear, Ino was sooo in love with you… it started from a "crushmate" years ago and is still going on as "one and only". heck, everybody knew! it was that crystal clear!

but you, sweet you, was sooo blind! sooo oblivious it even hurt for everyone to watch!

he blames it on himself somebody else confessed to you and took your heart away from his. maybe he didn't show what he felt for you enough. As much as he loved to talk the truth, he was petrified of telling you what he feels, petrified you'd reject him— possibly leave him, even. he knows you would never do that, but the thought that you might makes it that he doesn't want to take his chance.

This doesn't mean he didn't actually show his love to you, he did! he showed his love to you like a photographer would. If there was something people knew, photographers wouldn't waste their effort and time on taking pictures for somebody just for nothing! even if said person was a close friend or family member. but he, he gave his effort and time into taking pictures of you! he even has three cameras devoted to you!

He knows he should've stopped loving you after you were now taken, he knows he should drop the "best friend" title, as as people say, "your lover is your best friend.", that the fact you had a best friend and a partner sounded weird.. he knows he should have tried to kill his feelings off, but he couldn't. he just can't. after all, he was hopelessly in love with you, and when you're hopelessly in love with someone, said someone was the only one you would care about.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. . . . 　　˚　　　　*　　

What Ino expected the next morning when he had just walked out of his bathroom after a morning shower was the continuation of your's and his movie marathon, like you had swore. He definitely did not expect for you to call him, and when he heard your cracked voice silently asking— almost sounding like a plead— if he could come over, he was already going as fast as he could put on clothes while asking you to wait. his mind could only hope to believe thee sound of your voice was due to his or your's phone speaker.

After ten minutes, you hear a knock on your door. so you open your phone and message Ino to "come in, the door is open." the mental exhaustion infecting your body too much so that you don't have the energy to get up from sitting on your living room couch.

You hear him call your name. And there he was, concern clear on his face, his hand holding a plastic bag filled with your favorite snacks. "M' sorry for being late… jus' wanted to buy you a little somethi—oh." before you know it, he was sitting beside you.

When he asked what was wrong, you tried, really tried to tell him the story of it, but with the side effect of your cries, your throat would close, and when it didn't, it stung when you talked. Your best friend noticed and instead told you to tell him after you calmed down, but you 'calming down' didn't seem close. Even when you tried to stop the flowing tears, it was like a broken faucet that wouldn't close.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. . . . 　　˚　　　　*

twirling around your full-body mirror, you smile in confidence as you managed to dress and doll yourself up in just an hour, it was one of your biggest accomplishments, really. now all you had to do was to go to their apartment to meet up and go to the date they made for the both of you!

You walk out of your apartment and lock the door. the thought of you and your lover finally on a date after months made you happily walk like red riding hood to the elevator with the happiest aura people could feel and see. it was probably infectious, too.

Walking in the secluded park where your partner had texted you to go to, you were met with surprise when you saw them sitting on a patterned picnic blanket. with somebody else.

You call their name out with a wavering voice.

your "lover" looks behind when they hear their name, and to their own surprise their eyes meet yours. when they quickly stand up, the person besides them look to where they were looking at.

The stranger's face expression changes when your partner shouts out a pet name to call you and now said stranger was the one to shout, pulling and turning your partner to face them before spouting out curses.

you hear your partner exclaim they had texted the wrong number and "It must've had sent it to the both of you!" before everything blurs out.

you were thankful they were fighting instead of looking at you because you ran. you ran as fast as you possibly could, your mind panicking, only thinking of getting back to your apartment as soon as possible. too ashamed to let anyone see you in whatever state you were in.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. . . . 　　˚　　　　*

This was the note I put in.. I was stressinh

Not proof read

#jjk x reader #ino takuma x reader #ino x reader #ino takuma #i love him #ukininam

82 notes · View notes

tbb-appreciation-week · 24 days ago

Text

PABU'S FESTIVAL OF LOVE 2025

Info, Rules, and F.A.Q.

Tomorrow, I'll send the first batch (no pun intended) of prompts to those signed up (join here!). This is how I picked them.

In one word: randomly. I made several lists (with over 70 prompts in total), divided by types and ratings, and put them in a picker wheels. I left everything to chance. Specific lists aren't that long (about 6 prompts each).

It means that two (or more) people could get one repeated prompt. But like most of you selected a unique combination of prompt types, nobody got both prompts the same. And it wouldn't matter if you did; y'know, the "Two Cakes!" scenario.

Once received, you have a month to work on the prompt(s), and will be due on February 14th, 2025.

When uploading your content to your Tumblr blog, be sure to mention this blog and add the event hashtags: #pabu's festival of love 2025 and/or #PFoL 2025.

Any relationship is acceptable (platonic or romantic) among the Bad Batch, as well as other clones. Of course, original characters and readers are acceptable.

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING (both by mentioning the blog and putting on the necessary tags, especially concerning NSFW). That'll ensure that your post will be reblogged on this blog.

I'll do my best to reblogged everyone's posts, but if I miss yours, please let me know. Just give me a few hours before you panic 😆

If you want, you can also add your work to the Ao3 Collection (closed at the moment, but I'll open it in due time). Use the same event Tumblr tags when posting to the archive. When adding the tags, it might appear tbb-appreciation-week's Pabu's Festival of Love 2025 (Star Wars) on the dropdown. That's the canonical tag for the event. You can click on it, but it's way too long and complicated for anyone to remember, so don't worry about it. By me, being connected to high places, I'll make sure that however you tag it as, it'll be attached to the right place.

If you are posting NSFW fics or art on Tumblr, I ask that you use the Keep Reading break to hide the NSFW portion of your work; and please, give the proper warnings. On Ao3, please use the correct rating and warnings as well.

In this place, we're all for minding our own business, Ship And Let Ship, Kink Tomato, and all that, so everyone is free to create whatever they want. Participants are expected to hold judgment of others and their works to themselves, even if they don't agree with or find it repulsive. This event isn't for you if you disagree. Harassment to participants for any reason is NOT TOLERATED!

Show support to other participants by reblogging, leaving likes/kudos AND comments. If an author or artist has asked for constructive criticism (not the same as a comment, and with constructive being the keyword) you may give it. However, refrain from giving any of the unsolicited kind, as it is discouraging for the author or artist.

But most of all, HAVE FUN!!! This is a lay-back event, to show love for our favorite characters.

I'm looking forward to seeing what you all come up with!

If you have questions, send me a message to the ask box or a DM, either in this blog or my fandom blog @nimata-beroya.

Thanks for reading, and happy creating!

Mod Mare ❤

PS: There's one person who signed up on Jan 10 and didn't leave their URL. I don't know who you are but I need you to contact me ASAP! Otherwise, I won't be able to send your prompts. HINT: You requested songs!

Frequently Asked Questions

Is [fill the blank] allowed?

When in doubt:

And how about…?

Yes, that, too. Give total freedom to your creativity, and don't worry about whether or not it's allowed. Most things are okay, barring anything inciting or glorifying harassment, hatred, or discrimination of any kind.

Do I have to use both prompts?

You can use one or both. It's up to you.

Can I post late?

Yes, that's totally fine; I understand that real life gets in the way sometimes. I'll also reblog posts from latecomers.

So, when should I post?

According to your time zone, during the day at the most convenient time for you, on February 14th.

Will you reblog my post?

Yes, I'll reblog everyone's posts during the day. If I miss yours, please let me know (but wait a few hours before you do).

Can I combine PFoL's prompts with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! If you have a bingo card to fill or another event to complete, go for it. That’s like shooting two mynocks with one bolt, using one of Crosshair's reflective disks!

Can I upload/repost my work to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like. Additionally, I’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any work posted there. (It's closed right now, but I'll open it in due time)

If any of the prompts fit well for an existing fic/art I am currently working on, can I use it?

If you are currently working on this fic/art with Valentine's Day in mind, the answer is yes. In the case of using a work retroactively (meaning: already published and complete), then please, don’t.

Where can I post my work?

Post where and however you want. You don’t have to cross-post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind, if it’s not on Tumblr, I won't be able to add it to the blog archive. You can post a just link to anywhere else you've posted if you don't want to put the entire work in your blog.

Do I have to finish a fic I started? Can I post a work in progress?

Yes, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it. It'd make me happy that this event prompt you to create something longer. Let's appreciate the Bad Batch all year around!

Is co-creating allowed?

Yes, absolutely! Encouraged, even. Not just the usual writer-artist or co-writing collaborations, also any kind of medium combos: fic-podfic, fic-playlist, art-art, etc.

Is there a min/max limit on word count?

None. If you want to write a 100-word drabble or a 50k fic or anything in between, it's all up to you. You're the only one who knows how much time you can dedicate to it and how high/low your level of inspiration/energy is. You can even write a snippet for a fic you'll write later when you have the time/energy. Remember that this is lay-back-type of an event. Do as little or much as you want/can.

How do I tag triggers?

Just tag the word/phrase, e.g., blood; main character death. (DO NOT add "tw" either at the beginning or at the end. That makes it harder for readers to block the right tags). Here it's the list of the most common warning tags you should use when appropriate.

Also, it would be prudent to add warnings in the post's body, giving the readers another layer of protection before they do the actual reading.

Can we @ you?

Yes, please DO! It's the safest way for me not to miss your posts. I'll also be following the #pabu's festival of love 2025 and #PFoL 2025 tags, just for good measure.

What are the forbidden topics for our writing?

As I said before, anything goes, EXCEPT anything inciting or glorifying harassment, hatred, and discrimination of any kind against anything or anyone. THAT WON'T BE TOLERATED. For anything else, please tag your trigger warnings properly. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever other site you use).

Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, sure. That's fine. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

#pabu's festival of love 2025 #PFoL 2025 #tbb #the bad batch #star wars

28 notes · View notes

daisies-daydreams · 7 months ago

Note

Alright, on to the actual song request.

I can’t actually link the song anonymously so here’s the name: Those Eyes by New West. It’s just super cute and soft and I have a craving for domestic fluff and awkward, goofy, lanky punk boy.

-🪶 (also I’m 19)

Those Eyes (Hobie Brown x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader Category: Fluff (Slight Angst) Tags: Mentions of Drinking/Smoking Weed, Depictions of Post-Sex (No Smut), Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Reminiscing, Depictions of Injuries/Trauma (Brief) Word Count: 1k+ A/N: Omg I listened to this song for the first time because of this request and it's literally so sweet. 🥹 Flashbacks/Reminiscing scenes are in italics. Also I'm so so sorry it's taken me this long to finish your request, but I hope you enjoy! Song: Those Eyes by New West

You smiled up at Hobie as the two of you were tucked away beneath one of his bedsheets. He grinned warmly and pecked your lips, his mouth lingering against yours as he sweetly cupped your face.

"You got such gorgeous eyes, y'know that?" Hobie rumbled quietly. You felt your cheeks grow warm as your heart skipped a beat.

"H-Hobie," you flushed. Hobie chuckled as he peppered your face with kisses.

"It's true. It's the first thing I noticed when we first met," he sighed.

༺♥༻

Hobie blinked when his hand slipped against someone else's in the back of the cab.

"Whoops. Sorry 'bout that, love. Didn't know this cab was taken," he shrugged before glancing up. Hobie felt his heart stop as he gazed upon your face. To anyone else, you were a mess: your hair was tousled, your lips parted and breath pungent with alcohol (granted, he probably looked the same way after just stumbling out of the pub a minute ago).

But to him, you were a divine being shining before him.

Your hiccup drew him out of his trance.

"D-Do you come here often?" you slurred. Hobie cracked a smile as he chuckled.

"Not this particular cab, no," he hummed. "Where you headin'?" Hobie added with a concerned look. You gave him your address, your eyelids fluttering as your head rolled towards him. He smiled as he let you rest your cheek against his arm.

"That's not too far from my place," he murmured.

It really was, but he couldn't let you travel alone in this state.

༺♥༻

You grinned that sweet grin of yours, your eyes sparkling like two pristine diamonds. Hobie chuckled as you leaned up and captured his lips in a tender kiss, your fingers playing with his dark wicks. A smirk crossed his face as he heard you squeal when he playfully flicked his tongue along your bottom lip. He sighed as the two of you parted for air, your chests rising and falling in unison.

"I swear, I could get high off of your kisses," he cooed while cupping his sharp cheek. You smiled before giggling. Hobie chuckled. "What?" he asked before pecking your lips again. You bit your lip.

"Nothing," you shrugged. Hobie raised his brows as he shot you a lopsided grin.

"You sure? Doesn't sound like nothin'," he said as he playfully kissed along his jaw. He grinned as he heard you squeak, knowing his feather-light kisses were tickling your skin.

"O-Okay, you win," you yielded with a laugh, holding your hands against his taut chest. Hobie smirked and pulled back, his brows raised as he expectantly waited for your answer. You took a deep breath.

"My comment just made me think about...well, that time I called you from the phone boxes," you muttered sheepishly. Hobie furrowed his brows before his face softened, a chuckle escaping him as he remembered that time.

༺♥༻

"Babe?" Hobie asked, his face scrunched with worry. It's been hours since you went out with your friends, the dead of night having already crept over Camden town. He heard you gasp on the other end.

"Oh my God, Hobie! Hi! It's you!" you squealed. Hobie's expression shifted as he cracked a smile. He heard your friends laughing and snorting in the background.

"Guys, stop! I'm talking to my super-duper hot boyfriend," you drawled. Hobie huffed out a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, it's me. What's goin' on, sweetheart?" he asked as he shifted his phone to his other ear. He heard you giggle.

"D'aww, you called me sweetheart!" you cooed. He heard you gasp before a scraping noise was heard. Your friends cackled in the background like a murder of crows.

"(Y/N), you alright?" he asked, worry quickly rushing back in. You huffed and nodded.

"Yeahhhh, I'm great babe. Baby, baby babe," you babbled. "My friends and I are just hanging out by the river, smoking...stuff," you added. Before Hobie could offer a witty remark, he heard you groan. "Oh shit. Why's Kool-Aid coming out of my knees?" you said. Hobie sighed and shook his head.

"I'll come pick you up, yeah?" he said. He heard you make a strange noise on the other end.

"Mmmm'kay. Love you," you said in a sing-song voice. His heart skipped a beat at your words. Despite the two of you being together for about a month, it was the first time those words left your lips. A warm smile grew over his features as he nodded.

"Love ya, too, babe. See you soon"

༺♥༻

Both of you laughed as you two recalled that night.

"I've never seen you that out of it. Though I have to admit, you were pretty adorable," he said and playfully poked the tip of your nose. You rolled your eyes and snickered.

"Being high is 'adorable'?" you asked. Hobie grinned and tilted his head side to side.

"Well, not really the 'high' part. More like the part when you refused to let go of me once we got home," he smirked. Your eyes widened as you looked away.

"Don't remind me," you whined. Hobie smirked.

"'I'm never lettin' you go, Hobie. Never never never'," he recited your words teasingly. You groaned and hid your face in your hands.

"Seriously, how much pot did I smoke that night?" you asked. Hobie pursed his lips as he hummed.

"Enough for the police to not find any evidence," he smirked. You groaned again and shook your head. Hobie chuckled and leaned his face closer.

"Lemme see you again, sweetheart," he murmured. You made a small crack between your fingers as you looked up at him. He caught a small sliver of a glint in your eyes. "C'mon. Lemme see that beautiful face I love so much," Hobie said in a low, husky drawl. He felt you relax beneath him before you fully withdrew your hands from your face. He smiled. "There you are," he said and gently pushed some hair from your face.

That soft expression you were giving him, it was the same one he'd always remember whenever he was on a long mission.

༺♥༻

Hobie panted as he crawled through a cracked window on his canal boat. He grunted as he gripped his side, the previous battle with Doc Ock taking a larger toll on his body that any other villains he fought. He took several deep breaths as he pulled off his mask. His nostrils flared as he could still feel his heartbeat inside of his ears, his blood pumping rapidly.

Images of the battle flashed in his mind: every dip of Ock's tentacles, every punch thrown, the metallic taste filling his mouth.

His heart began to race as he tried to steady his breath, his ribs aching with a sharp pain as he pinched his brows together.

But then, in the midst of the images of fists flying and bodies being thrown...your face appeared. Hobie's eyes shot open as he saw you in his mind cupping his face, your smile warming him from head to toe. He saw you dancing to a song playing while the two of you strolled the city streets. His heartbeat began to slow as he sucked in a shaky breath.

Hobie smiled as he remembered the way you looked wearing his t-shirt during a lazy Sunday afternoon, or all decked out in punk gear at one of his shows. He sighed and closed his eyes as he sat back on his couch.

His expression relaxed as he remembered all the little things you did... and how each one made him fall completely for you.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark @acotarobbsessed @8xbygirl @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @lyrasdrawer @mcmiracles @genma-support-group @rattybimbo @rinyukaa

Want to be a part of my taglist? Comment down below! (MUST BE 18 OR OLDER)

#hobie brown #hobie brown spider punk #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk #spider punk x you #spider punk x y/n #spider punk x gn!reader #spiderman atsv #spider man atsv #atsv #atsv hobie #across the spider verse #spider man across the spider verse #across the spiderverse hobie #spiderverse #atsv fanfiction

46 notes · View notes

panelshowsource · 2 months ago

Text

my IMMEDIATE thought is judi love, right?? her and roisin 1000% not even one show each, A SHOW WITH THEM TOGETHER 😍 and it's called JUDI & ROISIN'S DOUBLE DATES 😍

hahahaha absolutely! do you remember the stationary shop / pun guessing task that tim vine did on taskmaster s6? i always thought victoria would have enjoyed every single thing about that, just my intuition...

hahahaha this is so cute! they got married not to terribly long ago, so no worries. don't you love how sweetly they speak about each other 🥹 you know, when i saw richard at his last book signing in new york, he told a quick story about how ingrid had recently written for a doctor who publication and that she is super engrossed in & proud of the doctor who world 🥹🥹🥹 (made me so happy!!! bc i'm also a massive dw fan (i make those gifs on my main!) 🥹)

this is my modest richard and ingrid tag 🥹 i hope to flesh it out even more over time hehe

yes i've been listening to these!! they keep teasing a nish kumar one coming up that is supposed to be very special in some way?

anyways the richard osman one was very sweet because there was tons of kitten talk (LOVE) and you can tell how much richard adores david — which means he had a lot of fun teasing him hahaha that's what makes richard such a good podcast guest: he's such a comedy fan!

also enjoyed the eps with ivo and sam campbell, and i'm gonna listen to at least ed gamble, rose matafeo, and amy gledhill this weekend!

are you guys liking it??

i've def seen it (i saw the comedy blogs advertising the pilot) but i'm gonna be sooo honest and say i haven't had time to give it a listen yet TT have you?? i'm obsessed with both of them and will DEF listen to it this week! i'll post my thoughts :)

honestly, i think there are more comedy writers and comedy actors than proper comedians that i would like to read bios of. simon pegg comes to mind first! i also think it would be fascinating to read a kind of day-by-day journal of a proper circuit comedian, someone who could humorously and truthfully document the lifestyle. did you have someone in mind who hasn't written one?

as for books that are already published, i really want to read bonkers by jen saunders as well as richard e grant's semi-new autobiography (i'm worried it's going to be exceptionally sad since he'll always be dealing with the passing of his wife and he's very open about grief 🥺), so hopefully i get around to those before too long!

i haven't, tbh i never watched miranda, not going out, or even call the midwife — so even though i've obviouslyyy seen her around, sometimes on panel shows, and absolutely acknowledge how big she was/is, i don't carry enough nostalgia to read her whole bio. THAT SAID, i agree she was so so touching on graham norton and i think her stories both about her health and about finding love were SO LOVELY 💜 but if you tell me it's a must read then i'll definitely check it out!

and for anyone who's interested i added the audiobook to my drive :)

okay this scared me HAHAHA because as much as that is obviously not true if one uses a single modicum of common sense i am so easily fooled—

anyways it was a sweet episode! i don't really listen to that show but i was hoping to hear more about joe's particular approach to parenting, and even though he is clearly very private it was endearing. i love how much he loves birmingham (as someone who doesn't really have a hometown it's something i'm always fascinated by and envious of in others), and he really put his foot down about his sexuality! he was like "bi is bi, pan is pan, it's on you if you wanted to call me gay anyways" and PERIOD KING !! anyways, super happy for him. i have a feeling he won't post very much about it or even talk much about it in general, but i selfishly hope he does 🥹

it was a cute episode!! highlights for me include rob being extremely new to the concept of kimchi, rob claiming he doesn't understand why people care so much about seasoning (my fellow americans, have fun with that one), and rob roasting steve coogan lmaooo also i never get sick of the alan bennett impression i love how it's almost tom courtenay it's hilarious to me

i've loved a lot of the recent eps, especially the ones with matthew macfadyen and richard e grant (funniest man alive)! and i watched the gordon ramsay episode like 5 times, it was sooo interesting and soooooo sweet to hear about his relationship with angela!

one thing i really like about this show — besides how awesome angela is — is that nick asks the genuine questions someone who isn't big into cooking would ask. like, when they were eating the rib eye, he was like, "if someone wanted to make this at home, what would they ask the butcher for? is this a specific cut of meat?" and even though it's like 'lol yeah nick...rib eye...' people who aren't familiar with cooking beef wouldn't have known that! he asks about cuts, measurements, cooking times, that sort of thing in a way that feels genuine and curious, which i appreciate (as someone who doesn't cook a lot lmao)

for sure!

hello anon! these are always posted on reddit every single night that they air, i recommend sending a polite "hello would you kindly add me to the sub?" message (you don't need to get fancier or more specific than that; they have to keep the sub private for obvious reasons so no need to feel intimidated) to r/TV_NCA so you can snag those links each week

sure anon i'll work on that for you this weekend xx

—

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / ASK

#a #ohneweiterbedeutung #homoerotisch

25 notes · View notes

fyeah7kpp · 2 months ago

Text

7KPP Holiday Gift Exchange 2024-2025

Hello, my dears and happy December!

I had mentally set a little cut-off of seven people to answer the poll saying they were interested in participating in a gift exchange this year to determine whether we would have one this year, and that number has been met, so it's time for signing up for the gift exchange! Even if you did not answer the poll and/or said you would not participate, if you are interested, feel free to sign up! If you did say you would participate and have changed your mind, that's okay too!

For those interested in signing up, the spreadsheet can be found here. Please fill it out and include as much information as possible, to make it easier for your gifter to decide what to gift you! The deadline for signing up will be 11:59 pm EST on December 21, 2024. After this, I will set up the drawing. No new names added will be added to the drawing after the deadline. However, the spreadsheet will be available for editing for those who want to provide more information after signups. As a reminder, the posting day will be tentatively set to February 14, 2025, but this may be subject to change as we check in with our participants.

Since the game will be out for over 7 months by the time the posting day rolls around, spoilers for the full game are allowed, unless specified by the participant in the spreadsheet! Please respect people's preferences on this matter, and spoiler tag anything for those who are following along!

As in previous years, there is absolutely no pressure to participate, but if you are interested, please feel free. The guidelines for gifts are open, though we have generally stuck to fan creations. For some gift ideas or just to see what cool and creative presents people have made, feel free to check out previous years’ collections, which can all be found on this tumblr!

If you have any questions or concerns, please send me an ask either here or to @angstmongertina or any of our other mods, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Happy holidays!

-Mod Tina

Disclaimer: Just as before, I am in no way affiliated with Aly other than having an appreciation for the game and this is not any sort of “official” gift exchange. That being said, it’s always nice to celebrate with friends, especially after a long, stressful year, so let’s enjoy!

#7KPP #Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem #7KPP Secret Santa 2024-2025 #mod talk

16 notes · View notes

miss-writes-a-lot · 12 days ago

Text

A Wonderous Thing To Behold - Jayvik Family Belated Christmas Fic: Part One

(Okay, so I know it's almost the end of January. This was obviously meant to be posted during the holiday season. And not in two parts. I just had crazy burnout and mental health issues that made it really hard to write anything at all. But I'm back! And I'm trying to keep my promise to post here more often. This fic is getting really long so I'm splitting it into two parts here, then posting it in full on my ao3 - link in my pinned post. Content warnings and such posted below.)

Synopsis: Viola has some weird feelings about Jubilee and the meaning of family during the Jubilee season.

Content Warnings: This work contains depictions of violence, mentions of death, religion, and discussions of religious practices, and anxiety. Further tags to be added as things come up.

Additional Notes: So, I wasn't sure whether or not to insert Christmas as an actual holiday within the Arcane/LoL universe. In the LoL universe, they have a holiday called Jubilee that gives thanks to the sea and its bounty, so I mushed the two holidays together. This isn't to say that other religions and their holidays are invalid or not worth touching upon. This is only because I am currently ignorant to a lot of the practices in other religions and I don't just want to make caricatures of cultures and their practices based on stereotypes and my little knowledge of the topic.

Constructive critique is welcomed, especially in regard to how I deal with the religious portions. If anything is offensive or wrong, please let me know so I can work to remedy it and so I don't carry my mistakes over into other aspects of my work or future works I may post here and on my ao3.

Without further ado, onto the fic!

Jubilee, like many other holidays and festivities, is not a particularly “happy” day for Zaunites.

For nearly every Topsider in Piltover, it was a bright and festive excuse to buy expensive gifts, put up bright and gaudy decorations all along the front of their houses, and get wasted at big, fancy banquets with greasy, fatty foods and sugary cakes and cookies.

But for born and bred Zaunites, it is yet another cold, somber winter’s night that killed so many on the street from frostbite, the worsening of one of the many illnesses one could get from the Gray, and shady deals gone awry. It was another cruel attempt at showboating and a sick reminder of where the two cities stood in nearly every capacity.

Viola was one of the many children sitting by their barred windows and being taunted by the smells of roasting meats and bubbling brews wafting down from the apartments and shops on the Promenade level and the houses inching closer to Topside. They would be beckoned out of bed by the sounds of mirth and merry-making. Shadows bathed in warm, butter-yellow light shouting and singing and being together with no ounce of obligation or reluctance to do so. Presents from wealthy, ignorant children flowed down the gutters into the sea as thanks for its bounty. The briefest glints of gold and ruby red shone down and reflected off the other windows, and it would stir a mix of envy, anxiety, and –strangely enough – want in their belly.

It was sickening, in a way. The want to be up there with all those who made a sport of how high they could turn their noses up at them and everyone like them. The desire to gorge themself on all of those sugary sweets and fatty meats while others struggled and starved to death in cold alleyways and barren houses. The almost intense need for the warmth, the pretty lights, the presents, and the security of others twisted Viola’s insides and forced them back into their bed as the usual specks of blue and gray flickered past their vision.

Yet here they are, standing in front of a jewelry store window two days short of the holiday with their stomach so tightly wound in knots they could keel over, debating on gifts to give their “work” family.

They’ve only got 30 minutes before they have to be at the lab, and they’ve been staring at the same set of shimmering blue and red gems embedded in gold and silver for much longer. From a quick glance up, they can see the storekeeper and her assistant eyeing Viola suspiciously from the other side, gearing up to run and get the sheriff to report them for loitering.

They step away from the window, nearly falling off the icy curb and knocking into some kids running behind them as they flung snowballs at each other.

Still, after regaining their footing, Viola stares at the row of colorful shops that no doubt have been cleaned of their good gifts and sale prices. Their insides twist at the scent of fresh sweet bread wafting down from the bakery on the opposite end of the street as their mind starts to race at the speed of a steam engine.

Only two days before Jubilee. Two days to find good gifts for a total of six people, maybe even more if the other councilors, their bio family, Caitlyn, Caitlyn’s girlfriend(?), her friends, Viola’s friends, and everyone else who even spares a passing glance at Hextech.

Would they even want gifts from them? Would their friends and Caitlyn’s girlfriend even accept a gift on Jubilee? Would Naph, Reynard, or even Viktor want a gift for Jubilee? Would they even want to a gift from them of all people, regardless of the day and its context? Since working with Hextech, they did have a bit more money left to splurge on whatever’s left to choose from…

Maybe I shouldn’t, Viola thinks, grabbing a fistful of their coat from their middle, It’s a Piltie holiday. I don’t think they really fuck with Piltie holidays, especially not Vik or Rey.

Viola turns and starts to continue on their trek to the lab. They walk a few steps, about to cross the street when they stop again.

But…maybe they changed their minds and they do want gifts? Would it even be appropriate to get them stuff like that?

Viola cringes at their own stupid question.

The seven of them have since crossed the line of “just coworkers”, or “just part-time employees.”

Because if you are just employees, you don’t casually call each other “sis”, “bro”, or “sib” or “kiddo” or all of the cute little nicknames Viktor mutters under his breath when he thinks you aren’t listening. You don’t share and steal clothes and then argue about it later because you’re “just coworkers”. You don’t run from lower Entresol/upper Sump to Piltover with definitely not cleared drugs to help your dying boss and sick companions without a level of affection that Viola isn’t quite ready to address at the moment.

You don’t spend more time with them up top than you do with your real family without it meaning something more than just business.

And something about that…it’s almost as sick as debating on buying these damned gifts.

“Vivi! Wait up!”

Viola whips around, spotting Reynard and Nell, all bundled up and coming out of one of the bakeries with a big brown bag. They smile, their panic momentarily taking a backseat.

“Hey,” they say, their newly cultivated softness starting to bleed through.

Reynard comes up to them and throws an arm around their shoulders.

“Guessing you got up late too?” Reynard asks, pulling them in for a close side hug.

“Uh, yeah. I…I did. Weird we didn’t end up running into each other,” they reply, trying not to make it seem obvious that they’ve been up and in Piltover for almost two hours. “What’s that?”

Nell grins, holding up the gold-branded bag. “It’s cake! For everyone at the lab! We just got it on sale. It’s really pretty, V. It’s got these cute lil’ frosted berries and powdered sugar on the top that makes it look like it’s covered in snow!”

“Don’t get too excited. Pretty sure it was on sale because it’s old as shit,” Reynard whispers, a cheeky grin on her face.

Nell lightly smacks Reynard with her free hand—Reynard snickers in response.

“Shut up! It is not!” she says, giggling.

Viola smiles, “It’s cool, Nell. I don’t mind eating old shit. As long as it's good enough.”

“You guuuuys!” Nell win

“I don’t really mind chomping down on a cobweb or two.”

“Yeah and plus, I hear mold’s good for the immune system. Helps build up a tolerance. Does wonders for the skin,” Reynard adds.

“You guys are so mean!”

The trio starts heading towards the lab. Viola spares another glance at the row of shops before Reynard pulls their attention forward to continue poking fun at Nell.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

They arrive at the lab fifteen minutes late.

Viktor’s at the chalkboard with Naph watching him while Amaranthine sits at his desk, lazily flipping through a magazine at Jayce’s desk. There seem to be more decorations littering the tables, windowsill, and even the chalkboards – Jayce and his mom really get into decorating during this time of year, though it’s always difficult to tell who exactly is to blame for it this time.

Amaranthine glances up from her magazine and turns back to the boys.

“Hey, they're here,” she says, lackadaisically flipping through the pages. “About time you guys showed up.”

“Sorry, sorry. Our bad,” Reynard says, tossing her coat on their on top of their chair.

“Yes, yes. Our bad, even though I was the one being bullied over my choice of sweets!” Nell says, rather melodramatically.

Amaranthine’s head perks up. “You brought food?”

Nell smirks, waggling her brows. “I did.”

Amaranthine gets up and follows Nell to her workbench.

Viola sheds their winter wear and slowly walks behind Viktor and Naph, who are still entranced by all of the equations and things Viola still can’t really understand. She reaches out a hand and lightly taps both of their shoulders.

Viktor is the first to whip his head around. “Oh, myška! You’re here.”

“Sorry, we’re late. Lost track of time. Nell brought some cake and I think those chocolate shortbread cookies you and Sky like if you want something to snack on…”

“I will in a second,” he says, turning his attention back to the chalkboard. “Here, come look at this.”

“Uh, okay.”

Viola fills the space between the two and looks around the board. She recognizes some of the diagrams and phrases, including an image of their old dampener with its contents sketched out in extensive detail.

“What’s all this for?” they ask.

“Well, Naph and I are working on a little project together,” Viktor explains, gesturing to Naph. “He came to Sky and me last night with the idea that he wants to tell you about.”

Naph burns tomato red and he turns his head away.

“Ass,” he mutters, covering his face with his hands.

“What is it?” Viola asks, trying to keep themselves from giggling.

Naph hesitates, biting down on his lip and awkwardly curling away as Viktor leans closer with a shit-eating smirk.

“We’re…We’re making you a new magic dampener,” Naph finally says through gritted teeth. “We think…We think we can play with the inversions enough to stabilize certain aspects of the Hex gems – well, one of ‘em, at least – we can make you something that actually helps you ‘control’ your magic. Like it’s supposed to.”

Viola’s chest grows warm and she smiles. Naph must notice something else about their face because he frowns and turns away again, somehow burning even brighter.

“Alright, alright. You can stop looking at me like that! Just – consider it your present for Jubilee or something.”

Viola chuckles, enveloping him in the tightest hug they can manage, smushing their cheeks together.

“Thanks Naph!”

“Ugh! Get off me! You’re makin’ a bigger deal out of this than it is!”

Viktor laughs, patting Naph on the back. “Come on. Why don’t we take a break and have some cake?”

Reynard scoffs. “You? A break? You feeling okay there, Vik? Not running a fever or anything?”

“No, nothing like that. I just don’t want Sky or Jayce jumping down my throat for only supplementing my appetite with –”

“Warmed up sweet milk and hot cocoa?” Nell finishes for him. “And you think sugary cake and cookies will convince them you’re taking care of yourself?”

“It will convince them that I’m eating at the very least, which is good enough,” he replies, grabbing a spoon and swiping a chunk of chocolate cake before Nell can cut him a slice.

“Rude!” Nell exclaims.

Viola giggles as they watch.

It’s always odd to them how people can spend so much time together in the same place and not get sick of each other. Even when they fought over things – big and small – even when they were annoying or petty with each other, there was never any hate or malice behind any of it. They never found themself leaving this – all the dumb fights and sleepless nights in the lab together, using their coats as blankets and each other’s shoulders as pillows. Stealing snacks from the lounge and the academy cafeteria.

She doesn’t know how to walk away from this, and frankly, she doesn’t want to.

But it also brings them great guilt to keep staying in the first place.

The lab doors fling open and Jayce hurriedly comes in with his nose ruddy and snow on his shoulders. Sky jogs in after him with an armful of files that are mostly likely from the season’s big important council meeting.

“Sorry we’re late!” she says, shedding her coat on the back of her chair while gently laying down all the documents on her workspace. “It ran a lot longer than we thought it would.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them Sky,” Jayce says, dusting the snow off of his shoulders. “They seemed to have kept themselves busy enough while we were gone.”

“Can’t talk. Eating,” Amaranthine says through a mouthful of cake.

“Don’t let me stop you–”

“We’re not,” Reynard replies.

Jayce rolls his eyes, pecking a kiss on Viktor’s hair. “Sorry for the wait there.”

“Don’t worry about it. The girls just got here a few minutes ago, so you didn’t mess much. If anything, really.”

“Board’s full, so something happened.”

“That’s for Naph’s project.”

“Really?” He whips around to look at Naph. Naph shrinks in his seat.

“Can’t hear you. Eating!” he says back.

“I’ll tell you about it later tonight,” Viktor replies, and that gets everyone’s ears to perk up.

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Amaranthine asks, “Actually, if it’s gross; don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”

“Relax. It’s nothing like that. Vik, Nell, and I are just going to do our own little Jubilee thing tonight before I head off to Mel’s holiday party. She throws one every year with all the clans. You know – fancy people crap.”

“You’re all going?” Viola asks. “Is this like, a whole Hextech team thing?”

“Oh please don’t tell me it’s a whole Hextech team thing,” Amaranthine begs.

“No, no. You all are spared. I’ll do my duty and take the blow for all of us by spending a couple of hours with annoying old rich folks so they can keep giving us money.”

“I told you that I’m fine with going,” Viktor says, “Nell and I can come with you. Make it easier for you.”

“You hate talking to those people, though. And I don't want you and Nell to feel bored, you know? And Nell doesn't really have anyone here age around –”

“Then I'll come,” Reynard says plainly. “If it’ll keep Nell company, I don’t mind.”

“Really, Rey. You don’t have to. You hate these events just as much as Vik and I do.”

“Yeah, I do,” Rey shrugs. “But, if I can make it better by being there, I’ll grin ‘nd bear it just fine. Plus, if it’s at Mel’s place, you know it’s gonna have some good ass snacks.”

Amaranthine chuckles at that.

“So, when are we going?”

“Around 7 maybe? We’ll be getting ready at my mom’s place.”

“I’ll see you at 6 then,” Reynard says with a sure nod.

“O…kay then. Anybody else want to join?”

“...What are you guys doing before then?” Naph asks hesitantly.

“Hm?”

“You said you, Nell, and Vik were gonna do something before the party. What is it?”

The trio exchange looks. Jayce and Nell are a bit nervous but Viktor nonchalantly shrugs, unphased by the inquiry.

“We’re just praying,” he says. “You know, typical Jubilee affair. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Oh. Okay…”

“You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like. No pressure to do anything you don’t want to, or don’t practice that is,” Jayce adds.

Naph contemplates the offer, staring down at his hands and picking out old dirt underneath his chewed-up fingernails.

“...I might,” he finally says after a long pause.

Amaranthine sighs dramatically. “Fine. I guess I can come too. Since apparently, you all are in the business of leaving me out of plans now.”

“Not at all, Amara. The more, the merrier,” Viktor says.

They all turn to Viola.

Her smile shakes awkwardly from all the eyes on her.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Do you wanna come, Vivi?” Jayce asks. “Again, you don’t have to, but since it’s turning out to be a whole Hextech Team thing now, I figured I would ask.”

“Um, I mean – I don’t think I’m doing anything tonight…?”

“You really don’t have to go this time, myška. You’ve been to enough of these already and we wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable…”

It’s true.

Since starting to work with Jayce, Viktor, and Sky, Viola has been going to every event under the sun. Pilties have some weird addiction to having parties and grand events for no discernable reason other than to flaunt their wealth and get some things made by poor, unsuspecting apprentices looking to get their talent and work noticed.

They haven’t made any great impressions on any of the Topsiders there – though, impressions don’t really matter once people realize where you’re from.

The idea of spending an extra night of the year in the unwelcoming presence of the rich and the council is not exactly appealing to her, especially now with the added pressure and weirdness around Jubilee and gift giving and all the parties –

“Vi–?”

“I can make it.”

Viktor’s brows raise in surprise. “Are you sure?”

Viola pauses, gnawing the inside of their cheek and being the least convincing person in the room.

“Y-yeah. It’ll be fine. I mean, I’ll have you guys there with me, right?”

Jayce’s expression softens into a smile. “Of course, Lola. Always.”

That warm, fuzzy feeling bubbles in their chest as their cheeks burn red.

“Then it’s settled. I’m coming too. B-But, I’ve got something to do first, so I might just meet you guys there. I-I won’t be too long!”

“It’s fine, Lola. We’ll make sure Mel knows,” Jayce says. “Just don’t feel like you have to.”

“I don’t. I promise.”

She catches Reynard’s narrowed eyes. Viola’s eyes dart away and they start rocking back and forth on their heels.

“So – do you guys need me for anything today?”

“A couple of things. Nothing that requires you to use much of your magic.”

“Fine by me. We starting from yesterday?”

Reynard’s eyes are still on them, trying to penetrate their skull and worm into their brain to get the truth.

She’d figure it out soon enough. Reynard always does, and even if she didn’t well – Viola’s never been the type to be very discreet about anything.

Tonight will be no different.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Viktor was not the most religious person growing up.

Many people in his small Sump-level neighborhood – his parents included – were, and he often found himself accompanying them in prayers to the infamous wind goddess whom many in Zaun pay tribute to for keeping them alive and granting them fresh, breathable air every once in a while.

He was not a cynic or lacked the whimsy and faith to direct towards a goddess. He simply didn’t have the capacity at the time to really care or put effort into worship; not when his prospects were starting to deplete with each passing day and his body started to erode faster than his prayers were being answered.

Too much to be done, too little time to do it all, and too little space in his head to keep track of it all.

He can’t exactly recall when he began to pray and honor Janna on his own time. Perhaps it was around the time his parents passed, or when he became Heimmerdinger’s assistant, but at some point when he started going on his walks, he occasionally found himself paying respects to the small statues of Janna embedded at the bottom of Zaun’s side of the bridge. He’d whisper prayers to himself, or keep them in his head during particularly stressful times that weighed heavy on his chest just like the Gray.

Jayce figured it out later in their partnership, but they didn’t start doing this together until Nell and the others came along.

Nell had caught him while he was on one of his walks – she wanted to make sure he was okay – and wanted to join him to reconnect with her Undercity roots that had been wilting each passing day in Piltover. Jayce later joined, both to continue learning how to speak the base Zaunite dialect more and because he simply wanted to know more about the parts that Viktor doesn’t often disclose.

So, every so often—mostly on certain holidays such as this one—they offer quick prayers to Janna together. Through clunky and mispronounced words and weird stares from passing topsiders who don’t hold Janna in as high of a regard as those below them, they offer and ask Janna for peace and any small material or emotional help they need.

It never really mattered whether She answered or not. Because as of now, Viktor has everything he wants.

Sure, he may still be hurting. He may still be sick and looked down upon by many of whom are meant to be his peers, but he still has his mind. His intellect. He gets up in the morning and can breathe – maybe not as great as everyone else, but he can. He has tools at his disposal to create an easier and better world for the Undercity and its people. He’s still alive and most importantly – he’s alive with them.

He lives in the same universe and shares a bed with a man with love, understanding, and empathy for people as big as the Hexgates. He exists and works in the same lab as his dearest childhood friend who has chosen to put up with him for so long. He talks with and shares an almost home with 5 extraordinary kids, who have cultivated a new kind of affection within his heart that he has never experienced before. Not until now.

Now, while they’re all bundled up in their coats and scarves and hats to keep from getting frostbite while under the bridge, huddled around the little shrine to Janna that often gets taken down by enforcers under the guise of vandalism.

Amaranthine and Naph curl against either side of Jayce, still shivering despite their many thick layers. Their little boats are cupped in their mitted hands. Nell and Reynard are crouched beside Viktor with their little offerings as well.

Viktor glances at the younger ones and spares them a soft smile.

“This won’t take long. I promise,” he says. “And don’t be too discouraged if you don’t know the words to this; it’s a bit of an old Shuriman dialect… I just appreciate you all being with us tonight.”

“N-N-No problem, Vik,” Amaranthine says through chattering teeth.

“Ki-Kinda sucks Sky and Viola couldn’t be here though. Ma-ma-make it a whole “family” affair, you know?”

“Lola will join us later,” Jayce says. “And Sky sends her regards. And, I dunno, maybe some special little gifts for you guys to enjoy later?”

Amaranthine grins.

Jayce turns his head to Viktor, cheeks ruddy but his smile as warm as the fires in the forge.

“Whenever you’re ready, Vik.”

“You make it sound like I’m some sort of expert with this,” Viktor says with an amused smile.

“Ca-Can we hurry this up?” Naph asks, shivering. “I’m starting to lose feeling in my fingers.”

“Right. Of course.”

Viktor kneels down in front of the small statue of the windswept goddess, hands clasping together as if he were 5 years old again and his mother was guiding his hands to the right position.

‘Just like this, Vitya. Yes. That’s it.’

“Beyond these walls, the storm's fury grows,” He starts. Reynard, Jayce, and Nell repeat to varying levels of success. Viktor swears that he can hear Naph muttering it to himself and trying to explain the words to Amaranthine.

“Over land and sea, the storm's fury grows. But I have nothing to fear… For the bluebird is with me,” he raises his head to the statue. “Goddess, we offer you these gifts as thanks for your blessings and ask for your continued mercy towards us, and all these things that we continue to ask from you all of these things –”

He reaches for his cane and his little boat. Jayce helps him to his feet. He turns to the waterfront, carefully crouches down, and releases the boat.

“For the prosperity of Hextech and my family,” he says softly.

Jayce stands, walks to him, crouches right next to Viktor, and gently releases his boat into the water, wincing as an icy chill hits them both.

“For the good health and protection of the ones I love,” he says, kissing Viktor’s temple.

Reynard joins them with Nell in tow, sending off her little paper boat. “For the future prosperity of the Undercity.”

Nell follows suit, “For an easy rest for the souls gone from this plain.”

Viktor glances back. Naph and Amaranthine stand side by side, hands tightly threaded together.

Naph lets go of a shaky breath that billows out as cold air. The two amble over, synchronously kneel, and release their boats into the water.

“For my family,” Naph says as his boat leaves his fingertips.

“F-For them,” Amaranthine stammers, her face burning a deep shade of scarlet as she quickly glances at the rest of them.

Viktor smiles, biting back the tears starting to well up in his eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I…I appreciate this. Truly.”

Reynard puts a hand on his shoulder, “No problem, Vik. It was…nice.”

Viktor pats her on the hand, sighing. “Okay. Let’s start heading off to Councillor Medarda’s before one of us loses a toe to this cold.”

“That – can that really happen?” Amaranthine asks, a bit panicked.

Jayce shakes his head, sighing as he helps Viktor to his feet. “You’ll be fine, Amara. Vik was just kidding.”

“Mostly,” Naph mutters. It leaves Amaranthine more anxious than she was.

Everyone rises to their feet and wraps their clothes tightly around them to brace for the winter’s icy breath on the journey ahead.

Everyone except their eldest.

Reynard stays crouched by the water, staring curiously at her rippling reflection.

“Everything okay, Rey?” Jayce asks.

“Yeah, yeah…Hey. You guys can go ahead without me. I’ll meet up with Vivi down in Zaun and see you guys at Mel’s place.”

“Are you sure?” Viktor asks, his hand tightening around the handle of his cane. “Viola did say she was going to be late. And I can’t imagine an easy journey down given all the ice.”

Reynard waves off his concern, smirking. “Don’t worry about it. I got up here just fine this mornin’, didn’t I?”

Viktor’s brows thread tightly together.

Reynard’s expression softens. “I promise I’ll be okay. The second I find a phone or a messenger walking about, I’ll let you know how Vivi and I are doing. Sound good?”

Viktor and Jayce exchange hesitant looks with one another. Viktor gnaws at the inside of his bottom lip.

‘She’s from Zaun. She’s seen it all and fought through it. She can handle herself just fine.’

“There’s no need for that. Just…be careful. Watch where you’re going and keep warm. The both of you.”

Reynard nods. “Promise. And I promise we’ll both make it back alive. That’s the Rossi Guarantee!”

Viktor smiles wryly. “We’ll be waiting then.”

“Ooh! And save me some of those shrimp toast things. Those things are sick!”

Jayce chuckles. “Will do, Rey. Be safe.”

Nell lunges at Reynard and envelopes her in a tight hug. “Be careful, yeah?”

“ ‘Course, Nell,” Reynard says, patting Nell’s back.

“Later Rey!”

The others begin their trek up the path to the main road.

Viktor lets the others walk ahead of him.

He stops, turns back to get one last look at her –

And she’s already disappeared.

12 notes · View notes