#she tells me all the time not to argue with the nine year old. I can apply that same advice to her it’s just not worth it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wlntrsldler · 7 months ago

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soldier, poet, king | luke castellan

song: soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos

warnings: not canon compliant, struck by inspiration and wrote this in one sitting so it's kinda just me rambling

i. the soldier

luke grew up a gentle child. he was the type of child who showed mercy at everything, at everyone, even when he knew that he held more power than them. and he did have more power than them.

from a young age, he knew he was different. he just didn't know how or why. it wasn't like he could just ask his mother why locked doors suddenly unlocked when he touched the knob, or why he always seemed to get away with stealing an extra cookie at the lunch line, or why he seemed to understand people who gossiped in other languages. not only were these odd talents to have (and yes he used odd because that's what his classmates used to call him) and his mother would probably not know the answers anyway, but his mother was unreliable at best.

luke was a quiet child. he never talked about what life at home was like and nobody ever asked him. after all, he showed up to school showered, dressed, and fed. there were no red flags there. he didn't blame the school for not knowing his living situation. how could they know? but sometimes, nine-year-old luke castellan wished someone bothered to ask.

maybe if they did, luke would tell them about how his mother talked to herself in the middle of the night and seemed to argue with the pictures on the walls. maybe if they did, luke would tell them that his mother didn't recognize him sometimes and that she would scream at the top of her lungs until her body grew tired then she'd sit still at the kitchen table until the sun rose.

or maybe he wouldn't. he didn't want to be a bother to anyone.

luke had never hurt anything until he was nine. up until then, he used to scoop up spiders on a piece of paper and release them into the world. it felt wrong to kill them so he never did. he used to watch his steps on the way home from school in fear of accidentally killing a centipede on the sidewalk. he used to leave food on the porch for the stray animals that passed by his neighborhood.

luke grew up a gentle child. until he fled home.

the first time luke killed something was when he was roaming the forests of massachusetts. he ran out of food days ago and was surviving on the honey bun an old lady at the gas station bought for him. it wasn't the healthiest option, but she assumed that he was starving from a long day at school and took pity on him. luke said his thanks and returned to his journey.

he could see the sun beginning to set behind the trees. in another life, he'd be watching the sunset in a tent with his mom. it would've been a family camping trip. he took a bite of the now stale honey bun and imagined it was a gooey marshmallow that his mom helped him roast over the campfire. as he crumpled the plastic, he heard it-- a scream from a girl.

luke's eyes widened and he raced to where the sound came from, reaching for the pocket knife he stole from the box his mom kept hidden in the attic. she never let him up there, but as luke was packing his things to leave, something told him to disobey his mother.

he found you with your back against a tree, terrified, with a dog-like creature snarling at you. it had two heads, glowing eyes, and what seemed like a million teeth. it turned its heads to look at luke, and the smile that dawned on its face was haunting. luke fumbled with the pocket knife and watched in amazement as it grew into a sword, both silver and gold, and seemed to illuminate underneath the descending rays of the sun.

luke stumbled in his steps as he held the sword tightly in his small hands and he swung. the dog barred its teeth, no doubt upset that luke was putting up a fight. his technique was nonexistent. he just swung and swung until he managed to lay a blow on the creature, and when he'd done enough damage, luke pierced the sword between the dog's two heads and watched it vanish into thin air.

luke dropped the sword by his feet, trying to catch his breath. he'd almost forgotten that you were there, that he did all that to save someone else. it wasn't until you placed a hand on his shoulder that luke was pulled back to life.

"thank you," you whispered. luke got a good look at you then. tear streaks down your face, hair a mess in two thick braids on either side of your head, and eyes that seemed hollow, though the will of wanting to survive fought to keep the traces of you there. "you saved my life."

luke looked down at his feet to find the pocket knife back in its original form. he bent down to pick it up, hands still trembling as he stuffed it in his back pocket. he wiped his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans, "i-i've never killed something before."

"me either," you gulped, nodding. "i'm y/n."

luke brushed his stray curls from his forehead, "luke."

ii. the poet

life at camp half blood became repetitive after a while. training, dinner, offerings, and repeat. luke was excited when he became the head counselor of the hermes cabin because at least he had something new to do. he no longer needed to follow you around to fill his time, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss spending so much time with you.

you'd been promoted as the head counselor of your own cabin months before luke, which was overdue in his opinion. you'd grown dependable, strong, and fearless over the years at camp. sometimes luke couldn't believe that you were the same girl who cowered against a hellhound all those years ago.

the life he had before he met you seemed like a lifetime ago, and in some ways, it was. eight years had gone by since he arrived at camp half blood. he's seventeen now. time had taken away many of his memories from his childhood.

"hey soldier," you greeted, bumping his shoulder with your own. "done with your list yet?"

"soldier," he greeted with a bright smile. "just about. want to tag along while i finish up?"

the nickname grew out of a morbid conversation the two of you had a few years ago. it was after you'd just gotten claimed by your parent, the night before you were due to move out of the hermes cabin. luke had found you sitting in the middle of the arena, your sword tossed carelessly on the floor. when you didn't show up to the cabin after lights out, luke knew he had to look for you.

"hey," luke approached you gently, taking the spot beside you. "everything ok?"

you lifted your head, craning your neck to look at him. you shook your head, "no."

his eyebrows furrowed in concern, "what's wrong?"

"i have a quest," you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. "that's why she claimed me."

for years, you found home in the hermes cabin. year by year, you admitted defeat, thinking that your parent would never claim you as theirs. it was painful, watching new arrivals get claimed by their parent while you watched on the sidelines, clapping in celebration. you faked smiles and niceties, but luke knew how much it hurt you.

he'd walk with you back to the hermes cabin and kept you company until you felt better. if he had it his way, he'd stay beside you forever, but he'll be content if he got to stay with you until you didn't want him to anymore. thankfully, that time hadn't come yet.

luke felt anger bubbling in his chest as he scoffed, "all these years... i'm sorry y/n. that's fucked up."

"it's okay, luke."

"it's not, though," he shook his head, "it's not okay that she only wants to claim you because she needs you. what about when you needed her, huh? all those years that she ignored you."

your shoulders deflated. luke was saying all the things you'd been repeating in your head since you've been claimed. "i know, luke, but that's just how the gods are."

"maybe that's the problem," he said. his anger kept increasing, his voice sharpening after each word. he thought about the worst-case scenarios if you left. you could get hurt. you could get trapped somewhere. you could die. the thought of it made luke sick. "maybe the gods need to get a taste of their own medicine. tell me you're not going on that quest."

"i have to."

"then i'll come with you."

you placed a hand on his thigh, "i can't ask you to do that."

"you're not asking. i'm offering."

"no, luke," you sighed, "as much as i would like you there, someone needs to stay here. someone needs to look after annie and the rest of the kids."

"and who's gonna look after you?"

"i'll be okay," you managed to smile, "i can hold my own now. i have the best teacher, remember?"

luke's eyes softened at your words. he'd been teaching you fighting techniques since he was dubbed the best swordsman of camp in centuries. everything he learned, he passed onto you. the life of a demigod was unpredictable outside the walls of camp half blood, and if there came a time when he wouldn't be around, he wanted to make sure you could fend for yourself.

he took your hand in his, tugging on your arm to pull you closer. once you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around you and placed his chin on the top of your head. "i know you can."

there was a silence that fell upon the two of you after that. the two of you sat there beside each other for a beat before you spoke again, "do you think they will ever change?"

"no," luke answered honestly. "we are not their children. we're soldiers to them."

as time passed, the truer those words became. he watched his friends, his siblings, return as a shell of themselves after their quest. he often wondered when he'd be called for his, though he was in no rush. some people were gone for weeks, months, sometimes years, and he couldn't fathom being apart from you for that long.

as he snapped out of his thoughts, you laced your fingers with his, "i'd love to join. i miss your siblings."

luke laughed, "they miss you too. i'm no longer their favorite now that i'm head counselor."

"that's because you never let them have fun," you joked, "fun is good. in moderation."

"hermes kids don't understand the word moderation."

"true," you giggled, running your finger across his knuckles. "chiron is looking for you, by the way. said it's urgent."

luke shrugged, placing a kiss on your temple, "i'm sure it can wait. wanna spend some time with you after finishing up. feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"we just had breakfast and lunch together, luke," you cocked an eyebrow teasingly, though your grip on his hand tightened. "can't get enough of me?"

"you know the answer to that," he hummed, not deterred by your tone. he never kept it a secret that he'd follow you to the ends of the world if you asked. "but we haven't gotten time with just us two in a while. would like to be able to kiss my girlfriend without campers saying ew."

"the ew's don't seem to bother you that much because you do it anyway."

luke stopped, untangling your fingers so he could hold your face in his hands. he placed a long kiss on your lips, one that left you breathless. "like you said, i can't get enough of you."

iii. the king

the waters were rough tonight. princess andromeda rocked harshly against the current, but luke remained unmoving at the front of the ship. he stared out into the dark waters, thinking back on the memories he had left. kronos was slowly chipping away at all of them, but he held tightly on certain ones because he didn't want to forget.

all of the memories were of you-- the way your skin flushed red after hours training in the arena, the way your hair fell in a tangled mess when you let your hair down, the sound of your laughter when he kissed your neck and his curls tickled your skin. these were things he would fight to remember.

luke thinks a fate more cruel than death would be to forget you.

tomorrow would mark a year since he left camp half blood to lead kronos' army, a year since he last saw you. it seemed trivial to him now to think about the 'what-if's' of his quest, thinking about all that time he would spend without you, only to have it happen anyway. only this time, he knew for certain he wouldn't return again.

life on the ship was vastly different from camp half blood. luke never thought that he'd miss the boring routine, but he did. the only thing that stayed the same was that he remained in power. in camp half blood, he was respected, seen as the leader of the pack. and here, the same can be said. he was kronos' right hand, and until the titan was able to attain his physical form, luke was in charge.

he was the captain of the ship. he was the king. he would bring glory to the demigods.

in the distance, a faint light appeared. luke squinted as he tried to make out the object slowly coming closer. he turned to enter the ship, the room falling silent when he opened the door.

"there's something out there."

chris stood up, approaching luke. he was the only one who dared to address him and luke preferred it that way. chris was his brother. he didn't know the rest of them well.

chris cleared his throat, "we just got word from someone on the inside that they're sending some people to attack us."

"so that's what's out there," luke clenched his jaw, "who did they send?"

"percy, annabeth," chris gulped, "and y/n."

for a moment, luke's demeanor faltered. were you really on your way to fight him? is that what your relationship had come to? luke bit his tongue, trying to control his emotions. he crossed his arms across his chest, "change course now."

another one of the demigods stood up, a puzzled expression on his face, "what? there's only three of them. they're outnumbered. we can take them."

"did i stutter?" luke snarled, "i said change course."

"it doesn't make sense to. changing course will set us back at least. a day!"

"are you in charge?" luke questioned. in his heart, he knew he would pay for this later on. once kronos hears that luke changed the plans without his knowledge, he would suffer but he thinks that whatever torture kronos has in store for him would be less painful than seeing you again.

you were fighting the same war, but you stood on different sides. it was something luke still had trouble coming to terms with.

the boy shook his head, cowering in fear as he made his way out of the room to relay luke's orders to the others. luke turned around and pinched the bridge of his nose before walking back out to the front of the ship. he held onto the railing as the ship turned right, his body jerking with the motion. he always did seem to lose his composure when it came to you. as the ship sailed away, he watched the light he saw in the distance fade into the darkness.

#frances writes #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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dreamwritersworld · 2 years ago

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The perfect child. (Sully family x reader)

Y/n…the perfect child who they say would never burn out…

You see, Y/n was a perfectionist, always striving for her parents approval, always wanting more and she was always told to do everything right. She’s the oldest after all.

Jake was strict on Y/n and Neytiri was very gentle and loving. A mothers love was like no other. Now…Neytiri loved both of her older daughters but there was always something broken between the two…she treated both the same but it couldn’t be said Jake did.

He was encouraging and gentle towards Kiri, it made her learn quicker, faster and stronger. His teachings with his eldest were harder, faster, tiring. In his mind Y/n was supposed already be perfect…that’s all he wanted. Neytiri saw it as him trying to make a monster out of her, someone who would go farther than they could imagine to protect their children…but she was their child as well..? So if he handed off the responsibility to Y/n, she’d take it right off and comfort her.

They have fought many times on the topic of the way he raised the boys and Y/n…she was there for most of the arguments and she always watched from a far blinking away tears.

*flashback*

Earlier that day Y/n and Neteyam were going head to head on who’s the better warrior but Jake had given Neteyam better tasks to ensure he’d succeed more compared to Y/n.

When Neteyam won, Jake ripped into how Y/n had little mistakes. Neytiri pulled him into their home and ripped at him soon after…

“I mean really Jake, Y/n fought her heart out and the only thing you cared about was picking on the little things when she had already done her harder tasks perfectly.”

“Because she always gets frustrated easily if she doesn’t do good, she needs to be perfect otherwise who’s keeping her to be stronger against the world?”

“You put all of her siblings and people against her! That little girl is mortified all the time but you don’t care! How about being a “role model”? I have heard you say to Kiri, to a little nine year old girl, ‘y/n won’t be happy for you. she’s jealous of you’”

“She is! I don’t understand why we argue on this. Y/n turns off immediately when it comes to anyone who had shown they are better and she needs to stop.”

“You have sabotaged our daughter and the rest of the kids! Our children aren’t soldiers and you will not put them against each other!”

“Y/n is talented I’ll give you that but she needs someone to keep her humble and perfect! She is practically the future of this clan and if she makes a mistake the whole clan is going to talk about it."

He wasn’t fully wrong…When Y/n failed it’s either she’d let the frustrated tears fall, or blink them away. However when Y/n finished her challenges her father was the first person she looked for, he would tell her what she still needed to work on. She felt like she needed to hear the truth, that’s what she was always used to.

In hindsight it was very sad for Neytiri to see how desperate Y/n was for her father approval. And it was equally sad to see how desperate Jake was for him to be in control of Y/n and her perfection. He would constantly put Y/n on a pedestal in public knowing it would put more weight on her.

Jake had many ways to make Y/n feel sick, it wasn’t his intentions but it felt that way.

*flashback*

8 year old Y/n was about to sing and dance in front of the clan, she was fully calm while her mother painted her face until Y/n noticed her dad beginning to approach her.

“Hey y/n!”

Y/n walked up to him as well and gave him a hug.

“Are you ready to be the best?”

Y/n swayed back and forth as she felt the nervousness come back up

“…I don’t know”

“Just be good. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

“I won’t! You make me nervous when you say that!”

“Do good!”

“Ok bye!”

Y/n tried to push her father out kindly, feeling overwhelmed.

“Go.”

Y/n gave a nervous smile at what her father slightly rushing her to be good

“You go! Please.”

“Ok I’ll let you go! Do good!”

The young girl walked back and Neytiri can tell the change in her emotions

“Are you alright?”

“Yea!”

Neytiri looked sideways at her daughter to get more answers

“…he just makes me nervous.”

Y/n sat quietly sick to her stomach while Neytiri kept painting feeling the same way her daughter was.

For my loved ones I’d kill and I’d die for them. No hesitation. The nervousness went away once I had to protect and defend..I have…killed before. There was a day where the sky people entered in a forbidden part of the forest one where my siblings weren’t supposed to be.

*flashback*

There was red coming from two of the men I had killed while I turned to my siblings who were probably hidden in the forest. I didn’t hesitate, I had came out as soon as a gun was drawn…my blood ran cold. I called out for them once the coast was clear and when they came out they looked horrified.

“Im so sorry you had to see that. You aren’t supposed to be in this part of the forest you know that, we must leave now.”

They had already radioed my parents when I had finished oh…the look in my mothers eyes broke me.

They had fear. Fear for my siblings and I.

I was covered in red blood, and scars. I couldn’t even focus…I was so scared by what I had just done. My mind couldn’t remember it, I just went blank.

When my father went up to me slowly with a sly smile..

“Y/n you went on to become the greatest child warrior pandora has ever known. No one can match you efficiency, your ruthlessness!”

I felt sick to my stomach…I was only a child.

My mother rushed to hug me comforted me and repeatedly apologized…it wasn’t even her fault.

“Mother it’s ok! Truly, I just did what needed to be done. I handled it well and protected my siblings. ‘My siblings, my responsibility’. I’m fine.”

Y/n held her mother while she cried…Y/n just comforted her mom instead and blinked away her tears.

No one knew how insecure i felt…how disappointed i was in myself. I was unsure if I was even good or bad…I felt like a monster but at the same time I thrived off of the praise my father sent my way for saving my siblings. I didn’t want to play this part but i would all for him. And this week was absolutely the hardest of them all.

*day one*

Lo’ak, Neteyam and I were all training! Yesterday my father had me learn more about healing next to Kiri as one of my tasks however I couldn’t beat her to it, not when my father was watching…piercing his eyes right through me.

Once we were done he lined me up with the boys and told us what needed to be achieved by the end of the week.

“You three are to start spotting next week. I don’t want anyone here that is not focus or achieving what they’re told. If you do good it makes us look better..Y/n you didn’t do as good at healing, you’re sister beat you so you failed. It doesn’t look good for us. Let me ask this question to all of you. How many of you are training when we aren’t together?”

Y/n looked down at her fathers degrading words disappointed that she didn’t beat Kiri. She nodded to her fathers question saying

“I do..”

Jake rolled his eyes and began losing his patience at the child who couldn’t land what she was told right, lately.

“Well…get off your butt, walk over to your grandmother and train for healing instead!”

Y/n immediately looked away blinking away pained tears…she was tired already, just the night before she stayed up training so she could be ready for the harsh week to come.

Jake spoke again..

“That’s your fault!…don’t embarrass me and do it right. Now go back to training.”

Y/n walked away while her two younger brothers watched her, they later had a conversation..

!Away from Y/n!

“Bro did you see how much Y/n wanted to cry? She’s always good at everything, I don’t know why she cries! She’s the favorite!”

“There's always pressure on Y/n, I mean she wants to please our parents. She can't go to training and be anything but perfect."

Lo’ak rolled his eyes at his brothers statement.

“No duh! But cmon bro you got to admit that sometimes Y/n tries too hard for dad’s approval!”

Now it was Neteyam’s turn to roll his eyes

“She’s the eldest, she needs to be perfect. In dad’s eyes she can be fumbling with her future and it’s not looking good for the family if she isn’t perfect.”

*day three*

Since the day before Y/n spent the whole time training with her grandmother Jake made Kiri and her do an actual competition against each other on who can do stitching and healing ointments better.

Kiri was eager to beat the “perfect child” while Y/n was anxious and determined to prove her father that she has gotten better…she has no chance in winning, she was going against someone who only ever trained for healing while Y/n trained for everything in such little time.

Both of the children did well but Kiri ultimately won. Despite the win Y/n hugged Kiri and told her she’s a good healer. Jake hugged Kiri speaking words that Y/n wished was given to her.

“Even if you had the worlds biggest crown I wouldn’t be any Prouder of you than I am right now!”

The eldest child’s heart was left to yearn for her fathers love, inside she was crying for more than just being ignored. If Y/n won she was ok but if she lost she failed at everything. She didn’t understand his game anymore.

*day four*

What Neytiri never knew was how Jake sometimes encouraged Y/n to break Neytiri’s instructions to Y/n. For example when Neytiri noticed her tiredness while Y/n was helping prep food and told her to take a break from training.

Y/n took a break just like Neytiri told her and when Jake walked into the room where Y/n was watching Tuk with small tears falling because she was panicking inside knowing her father would be upset at her.

“Y/n I want to talk to you.”

Y/n got up and walked past her siblings who had heard and felt how upset Jake was at Y/n

“What’s going on? Why were you not at training and then you were crying?”

“I was crying because training is my safe space but I was just tire-“

Jake cut her off while Y/n nervously played with her hands, hold back tears.

“Nu-uh! Every opportunity I have given you, came from my heart. That was awful Y/n. I don’t deserve that, I didn’t deserve any of it. There’s always another kid, there’s always somebody else. We love you. We were ready to work with you and you sat at home!”

Jake’s hurt expression made Y/n feel worse and she began crying at the pain and disappointment she caused.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you get out of our home and tell your mother no I’m going to training!”

“I’m so sorry”

“That’s not going to cut it. It’s gonna take a long time for you to be better.”

When the family was ready to head to bed Neytiri saw Y/n’s bed empty she looked around to see the child sleeping with dried tears in a corner of a cushion where she had previously been watching Tuk. Neytiri shook her head and covered the child with a blanket knowing how stressed Y/n was.

*day five*

The whole family went to a secluded place to do training. Neytiri watched Tuk until she heard Kiri tell her heartbreaking news

“dad won’t refer to Y/n by her name. He keeps calling her ‘that girl’ or ‘her’ or ‘she.”

Neytiri turned her head to face her other children and husband.

“You! Girl in the front move to the center.”

She sighed to her husband’s teaching methods. This was his way of punishing Y/n and making her do more work to make him ‘remember her name’

Neytiri called for a break and pulled Y/n away

“What’s going on my child you don’t see happy”

“He just says girl, he doesn’t even say my name.”

Y/n embraced the hug Neytiri gave her before telling Y/n it’s ok and to go back…this time Neytiri watched from afar.

“you were gone for a day! Not a year.”

Neytiri shakes her head and got up to pull Jake

“Our daughter has a name. She has a name Jake and you better stop holding a grudge.”

Jake came back to the children and began calling Y/n by her name. Neytiri protected her.

*day 7*

Father has had me training all week and all day! I barley get any rest time, in fact I’m currently walking to where we train. It’s safer to say flying with my ikran would not have been a good idea, my tired body would bring me down with her. I was so exhausted and I felt so heavy, my heart was sinking into blackness as well as my eyes. Everything went black as I fell to the floor..

When I had woken up, I was terrified. Not because it was already eclipse or because i had fainted from exhaustion…it was because of my father. I have never done this before and I was supposed to be there to train. I ran my way back home, using up all the little energy I restored and opened my home to see my panicked family.

My father rushed to me and grabbed me by my shoulders searching for any wounds.

“I’m sorry sir, this won’t happen-“

“Damn right it won’t! You know how important training is Y/n. You will be leader of this clan soon! You must act like it. You do not show up late, you don’t act stupid, this is not ok…”

My father words began getting blurry as he yelled in my face about what I should’ve been doing instead and my body began feeling sick once again…I felt like I was drowning and my breaths were getting shorter. I can see my mothers mad face turn into worry as she slightly pushes my dad away from me.

“Y/n what’s wrong?”

I don’t know. I’m unable to speak back and I drop to my knees. My lungs felt closed up and I was struggling to catch a breath. I had tears in my eyes while my mother began talking again

“It’s ok Y/n. You’re ok. I’m here. Breath my child.”

Once my breathing got back to normal my mother allowed me to tell the story and urged me to get checked by grandmother…she didn’t allow my father to keep on yelling at me.

*day 8*

My grandmother explained that I was just having attacks and that I’d be ok! Today the clan had a dancing ceremony, I wasn’t feeling well so I opted out on joining…until my father told the clan that I’d be joining the dance later that night.

I couldn’t say ‘no’. Not when my father talked up my name…I didn’t want to let him down.

The time for me to dance in the ceremony was coming and my nerves were so high..as I was walking to where the crowd can see me I can hear my dad

“Focus.”

“Represent.”

the pressure got worse from then but I pushed it away.

The clan began singing and dancing but I knew all eyes were on me…I was in the center and I felt my breathing feel heavy again…then suddenly I forgot the dance.

My couldn’t hold the fake smile and I ran off to go to the side where no one can see me.

I was begging for anyone to just help me.

“No! No! No! My father is going to freak out on me…I want to go again….I’ve never done this before. Can I please go again? Please!..please! My fathers going to hate me.”

Neytiri rushed to Y/n hugging her and pulling her away from the ceremony and fellow navis who had been there eyes widened to the visibly panicked child.

“My fathers going to hate me!”

“No he’s not Y/n.”

“He’s going to hate me! I’ve never done this…I’ve never done this.”

Neytiri wasn’t fully surprised that Y/n forgot her dance. Jake and her both put way to much pressure on Y/n. She was just 15 years old. Every single week and day she had to do tasks, train and protect everyone. If something wasn’t done correctly Jake would pinch at it all. Neytiri knew when to calm her down but Jake wanted Y/n to be his perfect child…he didn’t care that he was going to burn the kid out.

“I can’t breathe…I can’t breathe.”

Neytiri pulled Y/n down to sit calming her down more before she flew her back to their home.

“y/n you’re having anxiety and your father gets you so nervous. It’s ok. You are safe my child.”

Y/n was so afraid of her father it was killing her inside..Neytiri completely didn’t know what to do. Y/n loved training but her father was beginning to make her hate it. Once everyone arrived home Neytiri sent her and the rest of the kids out to do something. She didn’t fail to notice how Jake went to go up to Y/n and her breath hitched..like she was breathing in her last final breath.

“Go outside and play all of you!”

Neytiri looked at Jake directly in the eyes infuriated.

“We need to talk. You’re incredibly rude to Y/n you need to treat her with more respect.”

“I do! It’s just that when you are in the picture she looks at you.”

“Because she is afraid of you.”

“She goes completely blank. It’s like she’s competing with you and me. She’s a great kid but she looks at you with one eye, and she gets weak.”

“All she does is feel like she fails! You set her up to fail!”

“She’s the greatest her in the division, what do you not understand?”

“You have gone backstage before performances or challenges and have said ‘be like Kiri or Neteyam!’ Who does that to their child?!”

“Why wouldn’t she want to be like them? They are great.”

“Because Y/n doesn’t need to be like them Y/n is Y/n and that is good enough.”

“For who?!”

“For her.”

“Not for you.”

“Yes it it!”

“Then why are you pushing this idea that I set her up to fail?!”

“Because you knew she was sick and you threw her in there and humiliated our daughter.”

“I didn’t humiliate her! She did it herself when she forgot the dance.”

Neytiri couldn’t hear it anymore she began crying.

"Our daughter has been a wreck all week! And now she's having these attacks because she is afraid of you. And Afraid of what you are going to do it her! And you're allowing this with the relationship that you have with our kids and me! And it breaks my heart it is horrible!”

Jake grew silent while he saw his wife break right in front of him…

“I don’t think you get it! She’s tired! Tired of trying to be perfect for everyone, tired of training, tired of doing tasks. You just know the act she puts on! The ‘perfectness’ it’s done. You are hurting our daughter. Our children. Who’s next? Neteyam? Lo’ak? Kiri? You can not keep doing this to our children.”

Tears began falling from Jake’s eyes as he begins replaying old memories of how Y/n was treated…she was just a kid..how could he fix this?..

!💓!

Hope you enjoyed I just did this on the side because I’m trying to get to her stories done but I needed a breather 😊

P.S: Jake manipulating Y/n and isolating her slightly while Y/n didn’t realize really broke me! It was very obvious in the way he made her feel bad about obeying her mothers orders. She felt a lot of pressure and had many panic attacks during her childhood. This was just the first time anyone has seen it because it all became too much. She had such a strong passion for being a fierce warrior but her fathers harsh teachings is making it hard for her to enjoy the ‘hobby’ again. :(

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @mxn14 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @onetwo123three @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @eskamybeloved @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays

#angst #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #loak x reader #neteyam sully #neytiri sully #sully family x reader #avatar loak #avatar the way of water #sully family x daughter reader #Spotify #jake sully x daughter!reader

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reigningqueenofwords · 5 months ago

Text

Pokemon

Pairing: Dean/Reader Word count: 740 A/N: I'm tipsy, this wasn't edited at all. I just needed Dad!Dean singing the Pokemon theme song.

Walking in your house, you paused. You could hear your husband and 5 year old loudly arguing over which starter Pokemon was best. “Daddy! That’s silly!” You heard her, and could tell she was over her father’s shenanigans. “Pikachu is the best!” She added quickly.

“Sweetheart, I love you. But you’re wrong. I get it, you’re young. You’re five. In time you’ll know that Charmander is the best.” He countered, and you could just picture his face. Toeing off your shoes, you smiled to yourself. Dean had been scared shitless when you told him you were pregnant. He didn’t know if he’d be a good dad, but you knew. You knew that man would be the best damn father in the whole world. You’d been right.

“DADDY!”

“He wasn’t even a starter!” He reminded her. “Ash just got there late, and got stuck with him.” Dean explained. “So he doesn’t count.”

Smiling to yourself, you moved quietly to peek into the living room where the two were. He was sitting on her tiny princess chair, so he wasn’t towering over her. “Ash started with Pikachu, though!” She countered, and you had to give it to her. She was right in that aspect. “So he DOES count.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and it amused you how much alike they looked in that moment.

Dean playfully rolled his eyes. “Maybe Mommy would like to weigh in since she’s home?” His eyes went to where you were. “Just because I don’t hunt anymore, sweetheart, doesn’t mean I’m slipping.” He winked at you.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you joined them. “Sorry, babe.” You kissed the top of his head before scooping up your daughter. “I have to side with the cuter version of you.” You teased.

He gasped, hand on his chest. “You wound me.”

Smirking, you cuddled up with her on the couch. “I arranged for Bobby to babysit this little one this weekend so we can go on our anniversary vacation. Does that make up for it?” You asked, tickling her lightly.

His face lit up as the room filled with her laughter. “I think I can forgive you for that.” He agreed, loving watching the pair of you together. Something he never thought he would have, and now it was his. A beautiful wife and the perfect little girl. What more could he want?

Turns out that ‘what more’ was a chubby nine month old little boy who thought he was hysterical. That anniversary vacation resulted in the pair of you having another kid. Not that he would ever complain about hearing “Dean, I’m pregnant!” come out of your mouth. If anything, watching you with them made him want more .

That’s what led him to that moment. You were out with your best friend getting pampered while he was on daddy duty. Your 6 year old was still all about Pokemon, but your youngest didn’t really want to stay put to watch any of it. What Dean learned that day, however? That little boy lost it when Dean got really into singing the Pokemon theme song.

While you loved being a mom and wife, you had to admit that you were grateful for Dean arranging your girls day. You felt so relaxed, and refreshed after. You got your nails done, your hair touched up, and some shopping done. Walking in your house, you didn’t bother calling out that you were home because the Pokemon theme was a touch too loud for them to hear you.

Setting the bags on the kitchen table, you made your way to the playroom that was recently finished. There you found the three most important people to you. Your son was in his walker, your daughter was ‘dancing’, and Dean was way too into singing the theme for your babies. Biting your lip, you giggled as you watched him rock out like he was up on stage for thousands of people.

As it ended, you clapped, a huge smile on your face. Dean whipped around and looked bashful. “Nice moves.” You flirted.

“I’ve had practice. That’s the 5th time I’ve performed today.” He chuckled as your daughter yelled ‘again!’.

“Can I get a ticket to this concert?” You grinned, picturing a 3rd little one eventually.

He smirked back at you. “You get a private show later.” He winked before restarting the song, willingly to do anything to keep his kids happy.

#dad!dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader

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differentpostrebel · 8 days ago

Text

Die with a smile ~ Portgas D. Ace x Reader

Chapter 2: Taste

a/N: We are back with chapter 2, guys I love writing this chapter, thank you for loving the first chapter, if you guys havent read it yet it is on my master list link! we have Ace's POV, this time and next chapter will be y/ns pov... we got some seductive moments too in the end hehehe, thank you guys for following, liking, sharing and interacting! and without further a do let the adventure begin!

Ace’s POV

I knew Y/N when I was just ten years old—she was nine—when Garp brought her and Luffy to stay with Dadan and help raise them. I already knew Luffy was Garp’s grandson, but when I found out Y/N’s dad was a Marine, one who was going to be an admiral, I couldn't believe it. She didn’t seem the type to become a Marine. She was annoying, scrawny, weak—at least, that’s what I told myself. So, naturally, I picked on her. Teased her.

She always had this fire in her, though, something different from the other kids. No matter how much I messed with her, she never backed down. She’d argue, shove me, call me names right back, and even take a swing at me if I pushed too far. And yet, as much as I told myself I was just messing around, something started to change.

I don’t know when it happened exactly. Maybe it was one of those days when she was glaring at me, all fired up, refusing to let me win. Or maybe it was one of those rare moments when I caught her laughing—really laughing—when she thought I wasn’t looking. Either way, at some point, I realized something that pissed me off more than anything.

I had a small crush on Y/N.

Not that I was ever going to tell her that. Hell no. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to act on it. She was still annoying, still stubborn, and still the same scrawny girl who got under my skin. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

Even if, deep down, I knew better.

As time went on, we spent more time together—Luffy, Sabo, and me—and I guess, somewhere along the way, I started to realize that we weren’t just three random kids anymore. We were brothers. Honest to goodness brothers. I had to admit, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted that, but when I saw us all together, it felt like we really were family.

And then, one day, I decided to swipe Dadan’s sake and four cups. I figured it’d be a good moment for all of us to make it official, to show we were brothers. But when Y/N grabbed her cup, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want her in it. So I denied her the oath.

“You're such a big stupid jerk!” she yelled, her face flushed red from the frustration.

“My rules,” I said with a smirk, feeling the usual rush of satisfaction.

Then Luffy piped up, all excited. “I’ll drink with you, Y/N! We can be brothers and sisters!”

I rolled my eyes, but Sabo joined in, and I had to admit, it was kind of nice. It felt like a new kind of bond—one I hadn’t realized I needed.

As time passed, though, I noticed the teasing between me and Y/N kept going, maybe even getting rougher. And maybe, just maybe, that was my way of staying close to her. I didn’t know what to make of it. I definitely didn’t know what it meant. But I couldn’t stop myself from being near her, from keeping her in my sights.

Then came the day when things got real.

Y/N got sick. Really sick. She was burning up with fever, and it freaked me out more than I wanted to admit.

“You brats better not bother her!” Dadan snapped, looking back at the three of us. “She’s resting. I’m going to the village to get something for her fever.”

The second she left, the air felt heavier. It was just me, Luffy, and Sabo, and I felt like I was on edge, not sure what to do. Y/N wasn’t just some annoying girl anymore. She was the one who made our messed-up little family feel like home. And now, she was sick, and I had no idea how to handle it.

Luffy sat by her side, watching her with a worried look in his eyes, while Sabo did his best to keep the mood light. "Y/N, wake up!" Luffy yelled, his voice filled with worry.

"Idiot!" Sabo and I snapped at the same time, both of us smacking him on the head.

"You can't just yell at her like that, Luffy," Sabo sighed, rubbing his temples. "She needs rest, not you screaming in her face."

Luffy pouted, crossing his arms. "But she won’t wake up..."

I swallowed hard, not liking the way that sounded. Y/N was always the one with a comeback, always the one pushing back no matter how much I teased her. Seeing her so still, her face flushed from the fever, made something twist in my chest.

I crouched beside her, resting a hand on her forehead. She was burning up. "Damn it..." I muttered under my breath.

Sabo knelt next to me. "We should do something—maybe a cold cloth? That might help until Dadan gets back."

Luffy immediately perked up. "I’ll get one!" He scrambled up and ran outside, nearly tripping over his own feet.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Idiot."

Sabo chuckled lightly. "Yeah, but he means well."

I glanced down at Y/N, her breathing slow but steady. The usual fire in her was dimmed, and for some reason, I hated seeing her like this.

"Just hurry up and get better, okay?" I muttered, barely above a whisper. "It's not fun picking on you when you're too weak to fight back."

Sabo gave me a knowing look but said nothing. Suddenly, Y/N began to shake and shiver violently. "That's not a good sign," Sabo said, his voice tense as she coughed.

"Where’s Luffy with the cold towel?" he asked, looking around.

"I'm here!" Luffy announced proudly, bursting back into the room—only instead of a towel, he was carrying a full bucket of water.

"Luffy, wait—!" I started, but it was too late.

Luffy tripped over his own feet, and the bucket went flying. Water splashed all over Y/N, drenching her from head to toe. She jolted upright with a sharp gasp, shivering even more.

"You idiot!" Sabo and I shouted at the same time.

"I'm sorry, Y/N! I didn't mean to!" Luffy cried, his lip quivering.

Y/N's teeth chattered as she struggled to speak. "N-neeed… t-to… ch-change c-clothes… n-need w-warmth…"

I cursed under my breath. "Sabo, grab some blankets! Luffy, go get dry clothes from Dadan’s stash—now!"

For once, neither of them argued. Sabo rushed off while Luffy scrambled to his feet, running as fast as his little legs could carry him. I stayed behind, watching Y/N, clenching my fists as she continued to shiver.

Damn it. I hated seeing her like this.

I grabbed the driest part of my shirt and wiped the water dripping down her face. "Hold on, Y/N. We’ll get you warm soon," I muttered, more to myself than to her.

She let out a weak chuckle between shivers. "W-wouldn't be… l-life w-with you idiots… w-without a little… s-suffering, huh?"

"Tch. You talk too much," I said, but my voice lacked its usual bite.

Sabo came rushing back with a thick blanket, draping it over her shoulders while Luffy skidded into the room, holding an oversized sweater and pants that were way too big for her.

"These were the only ones I could find!" Luffy said, panicked.

"It’ll do," Sabo said quickly. "Ace, turn around."

"What? Why me?" I protested.

Sabo rolled his eyes. "Because I don’t trust Luffy to keep his eyes shut, and Y/N can’t change on her own right now. So turn."

I grumbled under my breath but did as he said, turning my back to them. Behind me, I heard Sabo helping Y/N out of her soaked clothes, her teeth still chattering as he wrapped her in dry fabric.

"There," Sabo said. "That should help."

I turned around cautiously, only to find Y/N looking even smaller in the oversized clothes. Her face was still pale, but at least she had stopped shaking so violently.

"You feeling any better?" I asked, sitting cross-legged in front of her.

She blinked at me, her eyelids heavy. "M-maybe… I-if y-you… s-stopped… t-talking…" she muttered sleepily.

I snorted. "Real funny."

Dadan stormed into the room, her face red with fury. "What the hell happened here?!" she yelled, looking between the three of us like we were the ones who set the house on fire. "Did you brats bother her?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, Y/N beat me to it. She propped herself up with shaky arms, her voice still weak but firm. "Actually..." she started, her eyes darting nervously between me, Luffy, and Sabo. "I threw up and it got on my clothes, so Ace, Luffy, and Sabo went to grab me extra ones. The water was to try and clean up the throw up. I’m sorry, Dadan."

We all froze, staring at her in shock.

"She covered for us?" I thought, my brain catching up to what had just happened. It wasn’t like Y/N to lie, or at least not in a way that would protect us.

Dadan blinked a couple of times, trying to process the explanation. Then her face softened, just slightly, though she was still upset. "Tch," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "You better not get any more puke on my damn floor. And you—" She pointed at me. "You better make sure she’s taken care of properly."

"Right," I said quickly, trying to play it off, though my heart was still racing. It didn’t make sense. Why had she gone out of her way to protect us like that?

Luffy smiled sheepishly. "We didn’t mean to make it worse, Dadan. We just wanted to help!"

Sabo, who’d been quiet for a moment, shot me a look. "You owe her one," he muttered under his breath, then turned back to Dadan with his usual grin. "We’ll take care of it, don’t worry."

Dadan eyed us for a few more seconds before finally shaking her head. "You better, or I’ll make you regret it." She huffed, walking out of the room but glancing over her shoulder. "And you—" she said to Y/N, softening a little, "—get some rest, alright? Don't go making any more trouble for these idiots."

As soon as the door slammed behind her, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The tension in the room faded, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that Y/N had done something she didn’t need to.

"Why did you lie for us?" I asked, my voice low, unable to hide the curiosity and something else… maybe a little gratitude, though I wasn’t about to admit that out loud.

Y/N glanced at me, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. She shrugged weakly. "Because," she said quietly, "it’s not like you guys meant to make it worse. You were trying to help."

I nodded slowly, not entirely sure how to respond. She had this way of making everything feel… lighter, even when things were messy. Even when we didn’t deserve it.

Sabo leaned back, smirking. "You really do have a soft spot for these guys, huh?"

Y/N didn’t answer, just let out a sigh and leaned back against the pillow, closing her eyes. "Just get me some more water, alright?"

I stood there for a second, staring at her, feeling something strange twist in my chest. It wasn’t anything I was used to feeling, but maybe I didn’t need to figure it out just yet. For now, all I cared about was making sure she was okay.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, turning to grab the water. "But don’t expect me to go easy on you next time, alright?"

She didn’t respond, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile. That was enough for me.

That night, as the others slept, I couldn’t find peace. Luffy was snoring softly, Sabo was curled up on the floor, and Dadan was sprawled out in her chair, the mountain bandits dozing in their usual spots. The house was quiet, except for the soft sounds of the night, and I couldn’t get rid of the gnawing feeling in my chest.

I glanced around one last time to make sure no one was awake, then slowly made my way to Y/N's side. Her breathing was steady, but there was something about the way she lay there that made my chest tighten. I brushed a strand of hair back from her face, letting my fingers linger for just a moment longer than I should have. She nuzzled into my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and my heart skipped a beat.

Before I could think twice about it, I slipped into the bed beside her, pulling the blanket up to cover both of us. I couldn’t help it—being close to her felt natural, even if it was wrong, even if I was supposed to be annoyed with her.

"You better not pull that stunt again, got it?" I whispered softly, my voice barely audible in the silence of the room. "Nearly scared us."

She stirred a little, her body shifting closer to mine without fully waking. My breath caught as she unconsciously sought warmth, her soft breath against my chest.

I couldn’t stop myself from continuing, my words quieter this time, almost a confession. "We were all worried about you, you know?" I said, almost as if it were some kind of secret I wasn’t supposed to admit.

Her response came in the form of a small hum, a sound so soft and peaceful that I didn’t want to move, afraid I might break the fragile moment between us. She was asleep, unaware of the way I was sitting there, heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t name. But it didn’t matter now, not when she looked so calm, so safe beside me.

I closed my eyes, letting myself relax for a moment, just content with being close to her. It wasn’t something I was used to—being this vulnerable, this close to someone—but with her, it felt like I didn’t need to hide it.

"Just don’t scare me again," I muttered, my words a soft promise to myself as much as to her.

Years passed, and we all started to change. Some changes were hard to accept, especially Sabo's death. It hit all of us like a freight train, but we refused to let it be in vain. We took his dreams, carried them forward, and made sure to honor his memory with every step we took. But it wasn't easy. The pain of losing him still lingered in the back of my mind, like an ache that never truly went away.

I was just one month shy of turning 17, the age I’d set for myself to start my own adventure as a pirate. Y/N and Luffy still needed some more time—Y/N was a little different now, and Luffy, well, Luffy was always Luffy. He was determined to make his dreams come true, and nothing was going to get in his way.

But for me? Things were different. I wasn’t that cocky, scrawny kid anymore. I’d grown into my body, the muscles I’d built over the years were now on full display. I always wore my shirt open, showing off my abs, my cargo shorts, and boots. My blade was always strapped to my side, a constant reminder that I was ready for anything. And my hat—my signature hat—never left my head. It was part of me now, just like my crew.

Y/N, on the other hand, had started to look different too. She wasn’t the same girl I used to tease. She’d grown up, and her style had definitely changed. Gone were the baggy pants and oversized shirts. Now, she wore skirts—shorter ones, the kind that made her legs look longer and more toned. She wore boots instead of sneakers, and her shirts were tighter, clinging to her figure. I couldn’t help but notice the way one button of her shirt would slip open, revealing a glimpse of her chest. It was hard to ignore the way she had blossomed into someone else entirely, someone different from the annoying girl I used to pick on.

And yet, despite everything that had changed, I found myself still drawn to her. I wasn’t sure if it was the way she carried herself or the way she’d grown into her own strength. But I couldn’t deny that she was different. And maybe, just maybe, I was beginning to see her in a new light.

But I wasn’t about to admit that. Not yet.

The day had finally come. It was time to leave—time to start my own journey, time to become the pirate I always knew I was meant to be. My heart was racing, but I kept it together. This was what I had been working for, what I had been preparing for all these years. As I grabbed my boat and pushed it out into the sea, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of finality. This was it. I was finally taking the leap.

Luffy, of course, couldn’t keep his excitement contained. "Bye, Ace!" he yelled, waving his arms like a madman. His voice was as loud and enthusiastic as ever, and it almost made me smile. But I couldn’t let myself get soft now.

"Bye, Luffy!" I called back, my voice steady, though a part of me was already missing the idiot. "I’ll see you soon!" I yelled, even though I wasn’t entirely sure when that “soon” would be.

And then, there was Y/N. She stood on the shore, a smirk on her face, her hair now cut shorter and framing her face in a way that made her look... different. There was something in her eyes—a hint of mischief, maybe a little sadness, but also pride. I wasn’t sure, but the look she gave me stayed with me long after I pushed my boat further into the water.

She waved at me, and I caught the subtle wave of her hand, the same stubborn, confident look in her eyes that had always been there, even when she was younger. And for the first time, I realized that even though I was leaving, we were all heading out on our own paths, but somehow... we’d always find our way back to each other.

I could feel the tug of something deeper inside me, but I shook it off. I was a pirate now. I had my own crew to find, my own adventures waiting for me. Y/N and Luffy were on their way to their own destinies.

I could only hope that our paths would cross again, when the time was right. And as I sailed away, I stole one last look at her. She stood there, her figure growing smaller in the distance, but I could still see her smirk.

Yeah, we'd meet again. I was sure of it.

The months had flown by, and here I was—gathering my crew, the Spade Pirates, and making a name for myself, just like I always planned. We were causing chaos and leaving our mark wherever we went, but there was still something about seeing my name out there that felt surreal. I wasn’t just some kid anymore; I was a pirate captain, and my crew respected me for it.

We had docked on a nearby island after another successful raid, and the crew was celebrating, their voices loud as they cheered and clinked their mugs. "Cheers to Captain Ace!" Skull yelled, his voice booming over the others. "Cheers!" everyone echoed, raising their cups, the alcohol flowing freely, filling the air with laughter.

I leaned back in my chair, the weight of my position still settling in, but before I could enjoy the moment, the familiar sound of the news coo fluttering down caught my attention. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, expecting the usual gossip or updates on other pirates. But when the paper landed in front of me, I froze. My drink slipped from my hand and splashed across the floor.

The headline read: New pirate crew formed: Phoenix Pirates and their captain Y/N, began to cause havoc.

The words blurred for a moment as I stared at the page. "She's 17 now?!" I whispered, my chest tightening. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

Mihar, always the one to comment on anything and everything, whistled and raised an eyebrow. "Damn, she is a beauty," he said, his gaze scanning the picture of her. "The news coo really did their number on her, that’s for sure."

I clenched my fist around the edge of the table. "Cocky bastard," I muttered under my breath, staring at Y/N’s name in bold letters. She’d come a long way, no doubt, and as much as it irked me to admit it, I had to respect her for it.

But damn, the sight of her name, her crew... it stirred something in me. Something I couldn’t quite shake.

"Ace, you coming?" Skull called out, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned against the bar, waiting for my answer.

I glanced up from the paper, still staring at the headline about Y/N. My mind was scattered, but Skull’s voice snapped me back to reality.

"Where to?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling gnawing at me.

"Pleasure hall," he said with a grin. "They said some of the finest women are here."

I smirked, leaning back in my chair, trying to push the thoughts of Y/N out of my mind. "And I know our captain knows his way around women," he continued, clearly amused by whatever joke was floating in his head.

I chuckled, standing up and giving him a knowing look. "You’re damn right I do."

But as we made our way out, my mind was still somewhere else. Somewhere I didn’t want it to be—thinking about the name that had popped up in the news coo, wondering how far she’d come, how much of a threat she had become. Despite my usual cocky attitude, a small part of me couldn't help but feel... curious. But tonight was about blowing off steam. I wasn’t going to let my thoughts get in the way of that.

Not yet, anyway.

"How many?" asked the lady at the front desk, her voice sweet but businesslike as she looked up at us.

"Just two," Skull answered, grinning widely as he leaned against the counter.

She handed us a pair of keys, and with a nod, we made our way down the hall. As we walked, the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air, mixed with the soft clinking of glasses. The scent of perfume and flowers lingered in the atmosphere, adding to the allure of the place.

Then, as we turned a corner, I froze. A woman with long, flowing hair caught my attention. She was walking toward us, and for a moment, I couldn’t place her. Something about her looked familiar—those eyes, that stance, but I couldn’t pin it.

I took a few steps closer, my heart skipping for reasons I couldn’t quite explain. Her gaze met mine, and there was a moment, just a flicker of recognition, before she continued on her way, a confident smile on her lips.

I glanced at Skull, who was already moving ahead, too busy to notice. I shook it off, following him toward one of the rooms. The women flooded the area, but my mind kept drifting back to the mysterious woman.

No. Focus, Ace, I thought, forcing my attention back to the present. There was no time for distractions tonight. I kicked my feet as drinks were already in our rooms.

"Hot damn, they're giving us VIP treatment," Skull said, popping a bottle and pouring some into glass cups.

"Cheers, Captain," Skull added, raising his glass, and we both downed the drink, ready to set up for round two.

Just then, the woman from before stepped in, locking the door behind her.

"Ohh, it's one of those pleasure halls. I'm loving this!" Skull exclaimed, drinking more, completely oblivious to what was about to unfold.

"You really are dense," said the woman, her voice sharp and knowing.

She slowly removed her wig, letting her blonde hair cascade down, and then untied a scrunchy, letting her hair fall freely. My breath hitched as I recognized her—those eyes, that smirk. It was her.

She removed her coat, revealing a gun strapped to her waist, a short skirt, and a cropped top. The woman who I thought was just some random beauty turned out to be... Y/N.

"My fire fist Ace, in the flesh," she said, smirking as she approached. "Then again, it's been a few months since you left on your pirate adventures."

I stood frozen for a moment, shock flooding me. My mind raced as I processed what was happening. What was she doing here? And why did she look like that?

"Y/N?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

She chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Surprised to see me, huh? I bet you didn't expect this."

Skull was still drinking, completely unaware of the tension that had suddenly filled the room. I could feel the weight of her presence, the pull between us that had never really gone away, even after all this time.

But I was a pirate now. She was a pirate too. And that meant everything had changed.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and despite the chaos around me, my mind was racing. I couldn’t deny it—the pull I felt toward her had only grown stronger.

"Cat got your tongue, Ace?" Y/N teased, her voice low and full of that familiar playful arrogance.

I was silent for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Skull, ever the curious one, finally caught on to the shift in the air. "You two know each other? Captain, you know the captain of the Phoenix Pirates?" he asked, his voice full of surprise.

Y/N shot a smirk at me, her gaze never leaving my face. "Oh, we have history together," she said, the words laced with something unreadable. "But not the kind of history of scorned lovers, no no. Ace and I grew up with each other."

Skull raised an eyebrow. "You know this babe?!" he asked, clearly enjoying the surprise and the tension that seemed to be building between us.

I couldn't find the right words to explain it. Y/N had always been a mystery to me, and now, standing before me as a pirate, she was even more so. But there was no denying the truth—this was no coincidence. She and I were always meant to cross paths again, whether I liked it or not.

Oh, he knows me alright," Y/N said, her voice smooth and dripping with an almost playful edge. "So tell me, Fire Fist, how's life been treating you?"

She walked over to the cart of drinks, her movements confident, almost like she owned the place. I couldn't help but watch her every step, the way her hips swayed with every stride. I knew better than to get distracted, but it was hard not to. The woman standing before me wasn't the same girl I remembered—she was something different, something more dangerous, and that realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I leaned back against the sofa, crossing my arms as I watched her pour herself a drink, the sound of the liquid filling the glass echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

"Life's been treating me just fine," I said, trying to sound casual, but there was a tightness in my chest I couldn't ignore. "You know, living the pirate dream, making a name for myself... nothing too special."

Y/N took a sip of her drink, her gaze never leaving mine. She was studying me, probably trying to figure out if I was still the same person she used to know—or if I had changed just as much as she had.

"And you? What's it like being the captain of the Phoenix Pirates?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of curiosity despite myself.

She smirked, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "Oh, it's been a hell of a ride, Ace. But, you know, no big deal." She walked back over to me, her every step deliberate. "Just like you, I'm out here making my mark on the world."

Her words were cocky, but I could hear the pride in her tone, the same kind of pride I had for my own crew. There was no mistaking it: Y/N had come a long way, and she was no longer the girl I used to tease.

"Is that so?" I muttered, my gaze narrowing slightly. "Guess we're both making waves then."

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us like an invisible thread. There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions I had, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words. And honestly, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know the answers.

Skull, thankfully, broke the tension, taking another swig from his drink. "This is a hell of a reunion, huh?" he said, grinning like an idiot.

I shot him a glance, then turned my attention back to Y/N. She was smirking again, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, it’s just getting started," she said, her voice low and teasing.

My pulse quickened, and I had a feeling the night was only going to get more complicated from here.

"I also heard through the many grapevines the New World has to offer that you’re a magnet when it comes to the ladies." Y/N smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement.

I choked on my drink, sputtering a bit as I tried to recover from her unexpected words. “What?” I coughed, wiping my mouth.

Y/N leaned against the wall, her smirk widening. “I remember how much you used to tease me and pick on me, got me to swing at you a couple of times, even pushed you around. Now I’m finding out you’re a lady’s man?” She chuckled, taking a slow sip from her drink. "Brandy, fitting for the evening," she added with a raised eyebrow.

I wiped my face, trying to regain my composure. "I’m not—" I started, but my voice faltered as I glanced at Skull, who was still grinning like an idiot. I turned my attention back to Y/N, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

“Ace, you didn’t tell me this babe was something out of a novel,” Skull whispered to me, leaning in with wide eyes.

I shot Skull a glare, but it was half-hearted. My brain was still processing everything: the way Y/N looked now, the way she was teasing me like it was nothing, and how it all felt so... different. "You’re not wrong about that," I muttered, trying to sound confident, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking a tightrope.

Y/N smiled knowingly, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "I’m just messing with you, Ace. But seriously, I didn't expect you to be so... charming." She took another sip, her gaze never leaving mine.

I shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I’ve got my ways."

“Yeah, I can see that,” she replied, giving me a pointed look before turning her attention back to Skull. "Now, how about you? You’re not bad looking yourself. You come around often?"

Skull blinked in surprise, then grinned like a fool. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I do, but... well, I don’t usually get this kind of treatment."

"Guess you're in for a wild night then," she said with a wink, and I couldn't help but feel a weird mix of annoyance and something else stir in me. Y/N was still the same teasing, unpredictable woman I used to know... but now she was so much more. "You really are something out of a novel, captain of the Phoenix Pirates, making big waves," Skull said with a grin, his admiration clearly evident.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she said, sipping from her drink. "But I do appreciate a good compliment every once in a while."

I couldn’t help it. "When did you dye your hair?" I blurted out, genuinely curious.

Y/N looked at me for a moment before answering, the edge of a smirk still playing on her lips. "By the time you left, Makino came by. I asked her if she had any hair dye. Figured since my father’s an admiral now, he’d recognize his daughter had become a pirate, so the blonde was what really sealed that deal." She leaned back slightly, her eyes narrowing with a touch of bitterness. "Word says he's too annoyed that I’ve become a pirate—again, could care less."

Her tone shifted again as she spoke about her father, and it hit me harder this time. It wasn’t just bitterness; it was something deeper, like a long-held resentment she hadn’t fully voiced until now. "Never really could stand the idea of his twisted version of justice, or the World Government, to be exact. Ironic, isn’t it?" she said, her words laced with frustration. She took another slow sip of her brandy, her gaze unwavering as she looked at me.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, she smirked, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Are you guys enjoying the pleasure hall, or are you bored of the girls already?" she quipped, her voice dripping with mischief.

Skull, still completely oblivious to the tension in the room, chuckled and took another drink. "You kidding? This place is paradise!" he laughed, his voice a little too loud.

But I didn’t share his enthusiasm. My mind was elsewhere—on her words, on her tone, on the way she was handling everything. Y/N's laugh rang through the room, teasing and confident. "Glad to hear. Would you like a private viewing of the girls, Skull?" she asked, her voice dripping with playful mischief. "Or would you rather see a show right now?"

Skull, clearly enjoying the attention, laughed louder. "A show right now? Now you're speaking my language, sweetheart," he grinned, already too caught up in the moment to notice the underlying tension in the room.

Before I could interject, Y/N dimmed the lights. A soft, rhythmic beat began to fill the room, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. "Damn, now this is exactly what I needed," Skull murmured, his gaze fixed on the stage as the music pulsed around us.

I stayed silent, watching the scene unfold with mixed emotions. Y/N had always been able to control a room, command attention, and it was no different now. Another girl stepped into the room, and Y/N whispered something in her ear as she made her way toward Skull. Her movements were fluid, purposeful, as she danced provocatively around him.

Skull was loving it, leaning back and letting out a low whistle. He couldn't stop smiling, oblivious to the fact that Y/N's game was something more complex than just entertaining him.

As the girl danced, Y/N moved closer to me, watching Skull, her expression unreadable. The energy between us felt different now—more tense, like we were both waiting for something to happen, but neither of us knew what that something was.

I watched as Y/N’s gaze flickered between the girl performing and me. "You’re just gonna sit there and watch, Ace?" she teased, her voice a low murmur.

The music pulsed around us, setting a heavy, almost intoxicating rhythm in the air. As Y/N made her way to my lap, I felt every ounce of control slipping away, though I tried my hardest to keep it together. The lyrics filled the room, each word adding weight to the tension between us.

“With a taste… A taste gets me in places,” the lyrics seemed to echo in my mind, a subtle invitation. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the music, its beat pulling me deeper into the moment, the rhythm blurring my thoughts.

“With a taste, I’m chasin’, I can’t erase it,” the song whispered, and for a moment, I almost let myself get lost in it. But the presence of Y/N, so close, on my lap, made it hard to breathe. Her movements were slow, purposeful, as though she knew exactly what kind of effect she was having on me.

I tried to look away, but she was relentless. The lyrics seemed to mirror what was happening between us—“Taste me, boy, and I’ll taste you.” I felt her body shift against mine, and my heartbeat raced. She was a fire I couldn’t control, and I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to.

“That’s the way I feel when I’m slippin' under,” the music continued, and I couldn’t escape the sense that I was falling deeper into whatever game she was playing.

The heat between us grew, as if the music itself was pulling us closer. “With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride…” It felt like I was spiraling out of control, my thoughts fragmented. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to hold onto the edge of this chaos.

But just as quickly as I got caught in the pull, I forced myself to focus. “You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under,” the lyrics seemed almost like a warning, but I didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not with her so close.

“I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic?” Her words were no longer just part of the song. They felt like they were directed at me, pulling me deeper into this dangerous, tangled mess we’d always been.

I swallowed hard, not sure if I could stand this tension much longer. But all I could do was sit there, caught between the music, her presence, and the pulse of the night.

I could barely keep up with the pounding rhythm of my heart as the next part of the song kicked in. The words "Drippin' down my lips, I'm tryna throw my little hips on you" reverberated in my chest, every beat syncing with the chaos she was stirring inside me.

Y/N rolled her hips, the movement slow and deliberate, like she was driving me mad with each sway. Her body was an intoxicating temptation, and I couldn’t pull my gaze away. "I'm feenin' for a kiss..." the song went on, and the lyrics mirrored my thoughts exactly. Every inch of me screamed for that connection, that kiss. The heat between us was unbearable.

She grabbed my face with her hand, forcing my lips into a pucker, a sharp tug on my senses. I could feel the tension in my body as my hands dug into the sofa, trying to ground myself before I lost control completely. The way she touched me—like she knew exactly what she was doing—made everything else fade away.

Then, just as fast as she’d pulled me in, she tossed my hat aside, and the moment was gone. She released my face, and the longing that had been building up inside me left me breathless.

Before I could gather my thoughts, she spun around, her back now pressed to my chest as she danced away. I could feel her warmth, her energy, vibrating through the space between us, teasing me with every move.

I wanted to reach out, to pull her back to me, but something about the way she moved, the way she controlled the room, made it impossible to do anything but watch. My heart was racing now, the pulse quickening, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts I couldn’t quiet.

As the final chorus of the song blasted through the room, the music seemed to take on a life of its own, pulling me deeper into the chaos she was creating. Y/N’s movements were fluid, like water, every inch of her body moving in perfect sync with the beat, each sway pulling me in closer. "When the hell did she learn this?" I thought, my mind racing, trying to keep up with the overwhelming desire flooding my senses.

The words of the song echoed in my head as she danced—With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride... It felt like the world was spinning around me, and I was caught in the middle of it, helpless to resist. Her back pressed to my chest, her hips moving with hypnotic precision, and I couldn’t escape the heat that was building between us.

“You're toxic, I'm slippin’ under…” I could feel it—my control slipping away, piece by piece, as her body moved against mine. The words felt like they were written just for this moment, for the way she was slowly breaking down every barrier I had.

“Taste of a poison paradise…” The irony wasn’t lost on me. This—this moment, this woman—was a dangerous paradise, and I was willingly walking right into it.

“I'm addicted to you, don’t you know that you're toxic?” It was true. I was addicted. Every touch, every glance, every movement she made pulled me in deeper.

But just like the song said, I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t want to stop.

As the song ended, the lingering heat in the room slowly began to fade, but the tension was still thick, hanging in the air. Y/N stood up, her movements smooth and deliberate, as if she were still in control of the situation—something she had always been so good at.

She gave a quick glance to the girl who had been with Skull, flashing her a small but appreciative smile. "Thanks for the show," she said, her voice calm and playful, the tone of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

The girl, still dazed from the attention, gave a half-hearted nod and a smile in return before stepping back, obviously content with the situation.

Skull, still sitting there, grinned, looking a bit too pleased with himself for my liking. "That was a hell of a show, babe," he said, giving Y/N an approving look.

Y/N smirked, walking toward me now, her gaze lingering on me just a little longer than necessary, as if waiting for my reaction. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she teased, the playful glint in her eyes never leaving.

My pulse was still racing, my mind struggling to catch up with everything that had just happened. But somehow, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her. "I'm just trying to figure out how you got so... damn good at this," I muttered, my voice rough.

Y/N chuckled, twirling a strand of her newly blonde hair between her fingers. "A lot can change in a few months, Ace," she replied with a shrug, her confidence unshaken. "You should know that by now."

#one piece #monkey d luffy #portgas ace x you #ace x y/n #portgas ace x reader #ace x you #ace x reader #portgas d ace #onepiece x reader #spade pirates #onepiece fanfiction

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waterfire1848 · 5 months ago

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Whump Azutara incoming fic

Just a small piece of it but I wanted to share. Shout out to @emluckyowl for listening to my rants on this and helping me write

Katara had to use her waterbending to see in the dark dungeon. Apparently, whoever created this place was smart enough to remember that firebenders drew their power from the sun and, with enough time in it, could grow strong enough to escape. Down here, there were no windows and only lanterns were given to the guards so they didn’t trip over their own feet. All in all, it was completely pitch black and terrifying. The blue light of Katara’s waterbending illuminated Ursa’s face perfectly and reminded Katara that, no matter how she felt, she needed to press on.

I will never, ever, turn my back on people who need me!

Ursa had come to her a few days after the war, begging for help. She said her daughter was still being held by the Fire Lord. When Katara questioned her further, she finally admitted that her child was the Fire Lord’s daughter. Katara, beyond confused, confronted Zuko, who said that he did have a sister but she died years ago when she was only nine. Ursa begged Katara not to tell Zuko about her. She didn’t believe she was worthy of seeing her son again, but she knew her daughter was alive and after days of not hearing any news…..A member of Team Avatar had to be of some help, right?

“You’re sure she’s here?” Katara asked.

“That’s what the servant said and, in the palace, the servants know everything.”

“If you’re sure.” Katara whispered, “This place is creepy.”

“I know, but I need to find my baby.” Katara had to admire Ursa’s willingness to press forward.

The woman clearly wasn’t a warrior by any means but she didn’t let that stop her from charging forward.

“We’ll find her.” Katara promised, “Do you know what cell she’s in?”

“No, but we should try calling for her. She’ll hear us.”

“What’s her name?"

"Azula." Ursa quickly told her, “Azula. Azula!”

“Azula.” Katara whispered, trying the name out, “Azula!”

“Hey!” Someone called.

The two knew this wasn’t Azula because they were yelled at by a voice that clearly belonged to an old man, but they still turned towards him, “You looking for the little princess?”

“Azula! Where is she?!” Ursa demanded.

“Fire Lord’s special cell. You gotta go down one more level.”

“But there isn’t a level lower than this.” Katara argued.

“There is. I remember the kid’s screams coming from below me. Her cell must be right below mine.” Ursa felt her stomach do knots. No….no, Ozai wanted Azula. He wouldn’t hurt her….right?

“Let’s get back to the surface and find Toph. She can tell us where the secret-“

“No.” Ursa said, “My baby is down here.” Without another word, Ursa went to the wall and began to press her hand anywhere she could, “I didn’t live in that palace for years without picking up on how they hide their secret doors.” Finally, her hand landed on a patch of rock that pushed in and revealed a secret door.

“Impressive.” Katara said.

“Come on.”

They walked down the stairs—still being guided by their lantern and water—until they came to another dark hallway. However, this was different than the previous ones. This one just had one large cell—probably as big as seven or eight of the ones above them—and chains all over the walls with claw marks in the rocks.

“Azula!” Ursa called.

“Mmmm…” A voice came from the cell causing Ursa to run.

“Azula!” Ursa yelled, “Azula, are you in there?”

No response.

With Katara’s help, Ursa broke through the cell door and used her torch to try and see where her daughter was inside the cell. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness and Katara started to worry that maybe all they had heard was the wind.

Then the light illuminated a figure.

For a moment, Katara didn’t really know it was a person—or alive—until it moved. The creature placed a hand in front of them which looked more like a dragon’s paw than a human hand and Ursa’s torch gave enough light for them to see her face. It took everything in Katara not to scream.

The face looked human but also like that of a dragon. Instead of skin, the person had scales almost all over their face. Mostly they covered their cheeks and forehead. Two large horns poked out of her head that looked like they were weighing on her. Her human ears were gone, replaced with two pointed dragon-like ones on the side of her head. While one hand resembled a dragon’s paw almost perfectly the other was completely human. Katara also noticed two giant wings on her back that looked like that had been painfully forced onto her back—if the blood and red skin was anything to go by. Finally, a large tail curled around her. Despite the fact that they shouldn’t be there, the girl seemed to have perfect control of her dragon features.

It’s her eyes though that almost broke Katara. They looked so lifeless, so dead, they were completely black without any understanding that there were new people in her cell.

Ursa, for her part, managed to keep a hold on her torch but was now kneeling on the ground, “Azula?”

The girl—Azula—looked at her mom then Katara, “M….m-mom?” Azula whispered.

That was it. Ursa dropped her torch and launched forward to hug her daughter, “Azula! Oh, I’m so sorry, baby! I’m so sorry!”

“M-mom? ….M…m…”

“I’m here! I promise. I’m right here.” Ursa said. She could tell that Azula was struggling with her words so she chose instead to hug her child and prove that she was really there.

Katara was moved my the touching scene but she also was a healer first and noticed Azula was shaking. Without a word, she broke Azula’s chains and, when Ursa noticed this, she helped her daughter stand up—which is how Katara also noticed that her legs resembled dragon legs as well—allowing Azula to lean against her.

“…Hurts.” Azula managed to get out.

“Katara?” Ursa asked.

“Lean her against the wall.” Katara ordered.

Ursa got her outside of the cell then leaned her against the wall. Katara pressed her water against the most visible injuries, hoping to provide some aid from the pain. Relief flooded both of their hearts when Azula visibly relaxed and stopped shaking.

Ursa pushed her daughter’s hair out of her face. Azula’s eyes were still dark, still lifeless, but she did seem to understand that her mom was here. She learned into her mother’s touch as if it would disappear any second.

“It’s okay.” Ursa whispered, “You’re gonna be okay, baby.”

#katara #azula #ursa #azutara #kazula #atla #avatar: the last airbender #whumptober

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evervigilantnightshade · 3 months ago

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The Line - Part 11

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

MDNI

Warnings: Angst, violence towards reader, reader attacked by men, a pup gets hurt (but don't worry he's ok) Blood, fluff, flirting, Death and killing on missions, Father of reader's death mentioned. Eventual smut.

MASTERLIST

The dinner was lively, everyone laughing, and telling stories. John was sitting next to Y/N and he kept looking over at her, watching as she interacted with her family. She was gorgeous and despite her tears only moments ago she had a smile on her face as they all told stories.

John wasn’t paying attention to anything other than Y/N until he saw her face turn red and she groaned from embarrassment. He turned his attention to the table and Charlie started telling them about Skijoring.

“What the hell is Skijoring?” Kyle asked

Down the table Freya squealed. “Swear jar!”

Simon laughed and raised his eyebrows towards Kyle as if saying I told you so. He then tossed Kyle a loonie and Kyle handed it directly to Freya which caused her and Edie to argue over who should get the dollar.

“Skijoring is where you have one person riding a horse towing another person behind them on either skis or a snowboard.” Charlie explained. “What can I say, small town folks gotta find a way to pass the time. We had told Simon about it and he was determined to try it.”

“Wait did ya?” Johnny asked, looking over at Simon.

“We did.” Simon said hesitantly.

“And?”

“It was great, a lot of fun and hilarious. We even set up little jumps. Everything was great. Until…:”

Simon refused to say what happened so Charlie jumped in.

“Until Brooke went a little too fast while towing Y/N on her snowboard and she launched her hard off a jump.Y/N came down on her arm the wrong way and broke it.”

“Mom was pissed.” Emma laughed

“Swear jar!”

Another loonie was passed to the twins

“Yeah well you were grown. I shouldn't have to watch over you twenty four hours a day to make sure you don’t do dumb shit.” Momma Lynn said while simultaneously handing Edie a loonie.

“Wait, how old were you?” Kyle asked.

“About, what?” Y/N looked over at Simon. “Twenty nine?”

“Yeah about that.”

“Old enough to know better.” Momma Lynn said with a frown, but couldn’t help it and started laughing. “They tried to pretend like she just fell off a horse while they were riding. Acting like we couldn’t see them in the field from the window. It was such a terrible excuse. Y/N wouldn’t get on a horse to save her life.”

“You don’t like riding horses?” John looked at her amused.

”Don’t like horses in general. I get it, they’re majestic, gorgeous creatures. But I had a childhood experience that made me scared of them for life.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Momma Lynn laughed.

“That horse nearly broke my back trying to go under a low hanging branch. Then it took off running full speed home with me on its back.”

“I told you to pull on the reins, it’s not my fault you didn’t listen.” Momma Lynn shrugged

“I was eight! That’s three years older than the twins are now!”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “They’ve been riding for a year.”

Y/N looked shocked.

“Really?”

“Yeah nana takes us for horsey rides all the time.”

She really had missed a lot.

“Well, it doesn't change my opinion, horses are scary.”

Johnny laughed. “Can’t believe you are scared of anything, let alone a horse.”

“Well we’ll put you on one tomorrow and we’ll see how you do. How about that?”

“Can we do Skijoring?” Ky asked excitedly.

“NO!”

“Absolutely.”

Charlie and Y/N said at the same time. Charlie shot her a warning glare.

“Come on mom, you gotta do it? Why can’t we?” Ky asked

“Yeah mommy, can we please do it?” Johnny said in a low voice.

Charlie’s cheeks blushed and she smirked at him. All of a sudden a dinner roll hit Johnny in the face and he looked up to see Simon glaring at him.

“That's your second warning. You won’t get a third.”

John chuckled and then felt something press against his leg. He looked down to see Chewy standing on his hind legs, his front legs against John’s legs, looking up at him with the saddest eyes he’s ever seen. John looked at his plate for something to sneak him under the table but Y/N put her hand on his.

“That’s how he gets you. He makes you think he’s starving and so sad. But he’s really not. That's why he’s so chunky.” She laughed and moved Chewy off John’s leg.

Chewy huffed and moved on to his next victim.

“Alright kids, dinners over go up to your rooms and play, the adults have to talk.” Simon said and there was a chorus of protests.

“That’s enough of that.” Momma Lynn said firmly and the twins and Meadow got up from their seats and made their way out of the room.

Charlie looked at Ky and motioned for him to leave too.

“Mom, I'm eighteen now, I should be able to stay.”

She looked over at Y/N who shrugged “Technically he’s an adult now.”

“Fine but you listen to the rules, and you keep your mouth shut.”

Ky nodded excitedly.

Momma Lynn put a basket in the middle of the table. Simon and the girls all tossed their phones and any other electronics into it. The team caught on and did the same. Charlie looked at Ky and he reluctantly put his phone in.

“The watch too.” She instructed.

Once he put it in Charlie took the basket into the other room and came back empty handed.

“Alright, what’s going on? Why’d we have to drop everything and come out here for an unknown amount of time? And why can’t I speak to my husband about it?” Brooke crossed her arms over her chest.

“I saw Adam, told him what I’m telling you now so don’t worry.” Y/N explained and Brooke looked shocked.

“When?”

“We were in Sweden right before coming here. I made a stop to see him. He wasn’t thrilled but preferred the idea of the three of you being here rather than being at home. We have protection watching over him.”

“I didn’t know you went to see Adam.” Simon said annoyance in his voice.

“With Keegan when I went to run errands.” She then turned to Brooke “He couldn’t tell you he saw me because of the no discussing over the phone rule.”

“So what’s the reason?” Emma asked, looking concerned.

“We’ve been after a top level target for quite a long time now. We finally tracked him down and thought we got him but it was a trap. He’s identified us and said he has all our information. We don’t know where he is and because he’s so dangerous we’ve had to be cautious and hide out for a bit while Overwatch tracks him down. We worried because if he knew us he would somehow be able to track down our families. So we figured this was the best place for everyone.”

“What are the chances of this guy finding us?” Charlie asked, glancing over at Ky, regretting letting him stay for this based on the look he had on his face.

“Enough we made the call to be here, but not enough to stay in lock down.” Simon referred to the house security system.

“What about the kids?” Ava asked and Simon wrapped his arm around her protectively.

“I would never let anything happen to them.” He assured her.

“If anything were to happen we would all protect you.” John added

Y/N instantly put her hand on his thigh and squeezed as a sign of thank you.

“We’ll make sure everyone remembers the drills your dad used to put us through and stock the safe room. We’ve prepared for this, it was just a different situation than we thought it would be.” Momma Lynn said, her face serious. “You girls know enough to protect yourself and you spent your whole lives training for situations like this.”

“I know it’s just a little different when it’s actually happening.” Emma said and Kyle looked over at her.

“I wouldn’t want to come face to face with all you girls. You’re badasses.”

His words made Emma smile, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Keep an eye out. If you see something out of the ordinary, tell us. Someone should always be with the kids. Don’t leave the farm by yourself.” Simon listed out the rules. “We’ll be ok as long as we stay vigilant.”

Everyone sat there looking concerned but nodded in agreement.

“I know this is frightening, and we thought this would be the best place to be. But if it would make you feel better we can relocate.” Y/N didn’t want them to be scared because they were there.

“Not a chance in hell” Momma Lynn said angrily. “The best place for you to be is here, and we’re safer having you all here as well. There’s no way you’re leaving.”

The sisters all spoke up with agreement but Brooke stood up suddenly and Y/N looked over at her.

“I’m going to check on the girls. Don’t be ridiculous about leaving. Obviously having you all here is the best solution.”

With that she left the room and Y/N looked over at Charlie who just shrugged and smiled.

“Best you’re gonna get.”

“True.”

“Is she the oldest?” Kyle asked suddenly and Y/N chuckled.

“Do you think she is?”

Kyle nodded his head and then she looked at Johnny. “What about you?”

“Definitely, she has tha’ older sis sassiness to her.”

Y/N then looked at John tilted her head. He could see a slight smirk on her lips and he had a feeling they were wrong. He looked around the table and thought about the girls and then thought about Y/N’s age. He came up with an answer that he figured was safe.

“Has to be Charlie.”

“Well you’re all wrong.” Charlie said standing up and grabbing some plates from the table.

“Who is then?” Kyle asked.

Charlie motioned her head towards Y/N and Kyle laughed

“No way!”

“By like 3 minutes.”

“Still older.” Charlie smirked.

Y/N shrugged and then looked over at Ky who still looked a little shell shocked.

“Got any questions bud?”

“Are you sure we’re safe?” He looked at her and her heart melted

“I’m sure, bud. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

She got up and went over to him and gave him a big hug from behind. He squeezed her forearm and then straightened up as if trying to prove he could handle this.

“Ok. I’m not scared or anything, just wanted to make sure.” He said and Y/N swore his voice was an octave lower causing her to smile.

“Of course.”

They all then proceeded to clear the table as Momma Lynn made coffee. They spent the next few hours talking and laughing, the stress of their situation from earlier fading. Eventually everyone started yawning and they collectively agreed to head to bed. It had been a long day for everyone.

John and Y/N made their way to her bedroom, Chewy and Odin following directly behind them. When they closed the door, leaving them alone again Y/N felt nervous. Chewy went to sit on his bed in the corner of the room but Odin pawed at her leg to pick him up. She sat down on the bed with her legs crossed placing Odin on the bed and he instantly went and curled up by her pillow. John sat on the bed next to her.

“Are you still planning on sleeping on the couch? Or have you changed your mind?”

“I still think it’s best if I sleep on the couch.”

He looked deflated but nodded his head in understanding.

“I thought a lot about what you said earlier.” He leaned over to make sure she was making eye contact with him.

Y/N took a deep breath, preparing for the worst and then met his eyes.

“This is salvageable, this is worth fighting for. I know you. Yes I didn’t know about your family but I know so much about you. I know you like horror movies but they scare you so badly you have to sleep with a lamp on. I know you love music and your choice reflects your current mood. I know you read the classics but you also love Harry Potter and those weird ‘spicy’ books Johnny teases you about. I also know that when you’re reading those spicy books you twirl your hair and have a constant smirk on your face that has made me have to leave the room more than once to hide my excitement knowing that you’re definitely enjoying what you’re reading. I know you like to get up early and take a moment to drink your coffee by yourself in the mornings. I know that you need to decompress after a mission but won’t walk away if someone wants to chat. I know you’re constantly trying to better yourself and will push yourself to the limit to prove to yourself you can do anything you want to do. I know you have a massive heart that can’t stand to see anyone in pain, including animals. Especially animals. I know you take a man out from eighty yards and be fine but if you see a commercial with an old couple in love you cry. I know you love fiercely. And I know this,” John pulled her hand over and put it on his chest “isn’t lying when it tells me I love you and I will fight for this. Please fight with me.”

Once again Y/N was left in tears.

“It’ll be hard. We’ll have to take a step back. Rebuild what we once had. Are you willing to do that?”

“I’ll do anything. If you need to start over I’ll do that. I will never hurt you again. I promise. Please Y/N, you’re all I want.

She knew what to say, she knew it the moment her heart broke thinking John was done with this. Now hearing him say all this to her she knew she wanted to fight too.

“You’re all I want too.”

John pulled her into his arms and held her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care though, she squeezed him just as tightly. He pulled her into his lap and held her, his hand rubbing up and down her back. They stayed like that for quite a while until she pulled away and stood up.

“I still think it’s best if I sleep on the couch. I’m still not ready to share a bed with you.”

“I understand. Although I wish it was me sleeping on the couch, I understand your reasoning.”

Y/N nodded and went and got ready for bed, washing her face and brushing her teeth. She had thrown on a pair of loose sweatpants and a hoodie and then walked over to the closet to grab a blanket and an extra pillow.

She stood by the door and John was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Alright, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

She felt her stomach flutter and she smiled.

“Chewy, Odin, let's go.”

Chewy instantly got up and walked over to her and huffed, annoyed his sleep was being disrupted. Odin however lifted his head, looked at her and then put his head back down on the bed.

“I think he wants to stay with you.”

“Well of course he does, we’re buddies.” John laid back up the bed on his side and propped himself up on his forearm as he gave him a small pat on his head causing Y/N to chuckle.

For some reason she was finding it difficult to leave the room. Seeing John laying on her bed stirred something in her but she was trying to force it back down. She wanted the space, needed it; but for some reason her body was having a hard time accepting that. She could see his tanned skin where his shirt had lifted up slightly and the top of his boxer briefs peeking out from his pants. Yeah her body was definitely not communicating with her mind. She shifted her body trying to discreetly ease her core. She had to get out of here before she gave in.

“Alright well if you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

He nodded and she quickly turned around and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She shook her head and then looked down at herself.

“Really need you to get on board with the rest of us here.” She mumbled to her burning core.

#captain john price x reader #cod #john price #john price x y/n #captain john price #captain john price angst #captain price x reader angst #john price angst #task force 141

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estellardreams · 2 months ago

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"You've changed..."

[Continuation of this mini fic]

(Prince MK belongs to @purble-turble. Genuinely I just came up with the name for this mini dark lotusnoodles spinoff AU so uh yeah)

It was... Rough, to say the least. Being forced to stay in a rather small cell while awaiting trial.

There was a small pulse on the wall before a ring of golden energy pushed back the wall to an open door.

Mk stood on the other side, still carrying Lán in his arms.

He paused, looking between everyone. He quietly shuffled back, trying to keep his distance.

Wukong got to his feet, putting his hand up to the ring.

"Hey... Kiddo. You okay?" he softly asked.

Lán looked between him and her baba, then back at him.

"Baba isn't normally allowed to speak to you all without papa's supervision."

"What?! Why?!" Mei exclaimed, getting to her feet.

Wukong frowned. "Nezha... He's the one who told her that, huh?"

Lán blinked, her once innocent expression shifting to a more darkened gaze. "Now I see why papa warned me about you all..."

She climbed out of MK's hold, walking up to the ring. Despite being a young nine year old, she oddly had an intimidating aura around her.

"You're all trying to endanger my baba again! He's safer here than with any of you because in trying to rescue him, you're just gonna let him get caught by that Demon King Red like all those other times!" she snapped.

Wukong froze. "Kid, it's not like that I promise!"

"Then how come baba is still here if you and the king aren't here?"

... Okay, he couldn't quite argue with her logic- No that's what Nezha wants.

Wukong shook his head, kneeling down to Lán. "This might be hard to explain, but I'm your baba's mentor. I want to protect him just as much as you and your papa do."

"Then why couldn't you?"

"I... I didn't see the signs. And I'm so sorry I put you in danger like that." his gaze shifted back up to MK.

MK's turned away, trying to not look at his friends and family.

It hurt too much.

It hurt that he couldn't talk to them.

Couldn't... Say anything.

He so badly wanted to tell them.

Just... Everything.

But of course, especially here, he couldn't say a word.

"... I'm sorry I can't talk to you all. Lán, let's go." MK took Lán's hand and began to lead her away.

"Baba? Where are we going?" she asked.

"How about you go play with your friends?"

"Okay! Race ya!" she immediately bolted.

MK waited until she turned the corner before rushing back to the cell ring.

"I don't have much time before I gotta get back to her, okay?" he whispered, a bit panicked.

"Yeah yeah yeah, it's fine. MK, how are you holding up?" Wukong asked.

"Ehh. Could be doing better. This stupid flower pin is keeping me from leaving this realm. And no, I can't take it out."

He growled. "Of course. It's a less threatening and harmful version of restraints that king red would've usually gone for but it still keeps you here."

"Yeah."

"Okay but what's the deal with the KID?!"

"Lán's... A kid Nezha made without my knowledge using his and my own DNA into a pearl stone."

"How long had it been for you? I'm so sorry we couldn't come sooner we really wanted to but the barriers between the Mortal Realm and Celestial Realm were really powerful."

"Ah, that explains it. And yes, it's been almost nine years for me."

"Shoot. Six months for us, nine years for him. Oh, what are we gonna do?" Mei began to slip into a panic.

"Mei, I promise it's gonna be okay. All of you just hang in there, okay? Maybe I can... Hopefully get you all a lighter sentence or something?"

"I... Don't think they'd take your word over the lotus prince." Tang said.

"Oh, right..." MK frowned, moving his hands back to his sides.

"What's with the weird outfit, anyway?" Mei asked.

"The... Gown? That's, uh... A choice. Honestly I just wanted something not traditional and extremely red that King Red would've put me in so..."

"That... Makes sense? I guess?"

MK flinched, hearing footsteps from the far end of the hall.

"I need to go, I'm so sorry. Bye!" he quickly shut off the ring and made a run for it, catching right back up to Lán.

Unfortunately MK wasn't allowed in the courtroom.

Nezha and Li Jing were there, making sure things went smoothly along the nine kings.

"And to read out our sentence..." the third king spoke, holding up the scroll.

"Sun Wukong, Long Xiaojiao, Sha Wujing, Zhu Bajie, and Tang Sazang have been deemed... Guilty. Over trespassing, attacking the heavenly army, and attempted kidnapping of the lotus prince's fiance. The Lotus Prince himself will bring about your worthy punishment."

Nezha got up from his seat, drifting down in front of the five calmly.

"Father. I wish to punish them with the Pagoda. To ensure they are never a threat to Heaven again." he said.

"Very well, then." Li Jing drifted down and activated the pagoda. The celestial guards keeping watch in the court forced the five to be sucked in before it shut off.

"It is done... All of you are dismissed." Nezha ordered.

"But what of your fiancé? Is he alright after such attacks?" Li Jing asked.

"Yes, of course. I've been keeping watch over him and he didn't get hurt."

"That's good."

"Now I'm gonna go back to him and our daughter! Goodbye, father."

"Goodbye, son."

Nezha flew off, finding MK watching over Lán, whom was playing with other children in the realm.

"Hey, MK." Nezha sat down next to him.

He quietly leaned onto him. "Don't worry about your friends. No harm came to them, I made sure of it."

"Oh thank the great sage, thank you..." MK breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned back to the lotus prince. "Can I see them?"

Nezha paused. How was he gonna tell him that he got them locked up in the Pagoda?

"... Not at the moment. I apologize."

"Oh... Then, um... Maybe soon?"

Soon... Nezha would have to find some way to show that they were all still there, somehow. But he could figure that out in time.

"Of course."

MK's gaze shifted back to the children playing around. Nezha leaned onto his shoulder, tugging at him in a hug.

"Love you, MK."

Mk didn't say anything. But deep in Nezha's heart, he was silently saying it right back to him.

And that made him feel so much better.

#Lotus Prince MK #Prince mk #Dark lotusnoodles #Lotusnoodles #Lmk #Lmk au #lego monkie kid #lmk fankid #digital art #🌸mine

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alexanderwales · 3 months ago

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When I was nine years old, my grandfather died.

He was a life long smoker, and lung cancer got him. He died slowly in a hospital bed that had been brought into their house, and we made the trip so South Dakota as a family to watch him die.

He couldn't move on his own. He was weak and wasting away, and they needed to periodically turn him so he wouldn't get bed sores. I had never heard of bed sores before that, and I was scared of them, of the mere concept that someone could be so immobilized that their body would start to ache. His skin was thin and translucent, showing every liver spot and wrinkle in bold, and his eyes were sunken in. There was a smell of death and disinfectant in the house, warring for my nostrils.

My parents were going through a divorce at the time, so my dad wasn't with us. My grandfather, on his deathbed, told me that he wanted me to change my last name to be my mother's. It was important to him. He was leaning forward, using his limited strength to be emphatic, dry mouth forming the words.

It's kind of a fucked up deathbed request. I didn't end up doing it, mostly because I was nine, and as I grew older I started to resent the request, which had sat very heavy with me when I was little.

His sons built his coffin in the driveway. My grandfather was a woodworker, among other things, and it was their way of honoring him, but they also argued during the course of the building, and I didn't like the sounds of the power tools or the nails being driven in. It was a very plain coffin, I remember, and I always wondered where the idea to make it using his tools, in the driveway had come from. Symbolically, I guess there's something there, building the vessel of death, but at the time it just felt really off-putting and morbid.

My aunt was a doctor, and she was doing most of the work of taking care of him, helping to rotate his body, double-checking the medications, making sure that he was as comfortable as he could be.

But my grandfather made her a deathbed request to her too, and it was that she kill him. That's a lot to ask from your own child, and moreso because she could have lost her ability to practice medicine if anyone found out, but I also thought ... I don't know, that someone else should have done it? He was in pain, and not always lucid, but he'd made his request, and we were all waiting on him to die.

And so I thought, at nine years old, that I would do it, find some way to grant at least that wish, to end his suffering.

I didn't end up doing that either, because I was little.

I didn't know my grandfather all that well, because he died when I was young. We built a wooden toy together when I was seven, before he'd gotten so sick, and he gave me some wood carving tools that I never used. He had been a farmer before he lost the farm, and losing that farm was one of those things that echoed through my mom's childhood, but I don't remember him ever talking about it. He was a conscientious objector in World War II, because he was a Mennonite, but unlike my other grandfather, I don't remember him every telling me any stories about it.

I think overall it's good to let kids know that people die, to not shield them from it completely, but I don't think I endorse putting a child that close to death, not for so much time, or at least not a child like me.

(If you've read some of my fiction, you might recognize this as a very similar to something Juniper says in Worth the Candle, and yes, that part of the book, like many others, is roughly autobiographical.)

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satansapostle6 · 1 year ago

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Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“Break Stuff”

“Black Hole Sun”

“Mom, I cleaned my room yesterday!”

“No, you did not, young man!”

Sara Walter sat patiently on the stairs of the Heffley house, arms crossed lazily as she listened to her boyfriend arguing with his mother for the second time that day.

“Mom! I cleaned my room right after you told me to! Greg saw me!” Rodrick exclaimed, looking up the stairs for support. “Hey! Greg! Greg!”

Susan Heffley sighed, exasperated as she heard her younger son’s voice respond.

“Yeah?!”

Greg ran down the stairs with Rowley in an instant, worried he was about to get in trouble with either Rodrick or his mom. He stood on the stairs just behind where Sara was sitting, as Rowley Jefferson stood behind him, waiting patiently.

“Did I, or did I not, clean my room yesterday when Mom told me to?” Rodrick asked expectantly.

“You did,” Greg said after a moment of thought, “I saw you.”

Rodrick threw up his hands at the revelation, looking back to Susan. “I told you so.”

“Well, if you did clean your room yesterday, you didn’t do a very good job,” she smiled sarcastically. “Clean it again.”

“But, Mom!”

“‘But’ nothing, it’s a pigsty in there,” Susan insisted in disgust.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s only a few shirts and jackets on the bed.”

“Rodrick,” Sara mumbled, “It’s fine, we can go after—”

“Then it won’t be that hard to pick them up!” she argued, cutting Sara off.

“But, I’m supposed to take Sara out for sushi!” Rodrick complained. “I saved up all month…”

“You’re not going anywhere if you don’t clean your room,” Susan repeated.

“Can’t I just clean it after?!”

“Rodrick, it’s fine,” Sara whispered, silently pleading with him.

“You know, Rodrick, I’m getting real sick of this attitude of yours,” she said crossly, “Ever since you started hanging around Sara, you’ve been irritable and rude. I think she’s a bad influence on you, Rodrick.”

Sara looked up at Susan with her mouth sitting agape, a look of disbelief in her eyes.

“But, Mom,” Greg spoke up, as Rowley began to seem visibly afraid, “Sara hasn’t even said anything this whole time—”

“Greg, this is between me and your brother,” Susan stated sharply, as Rowley pointedly backed up up the stairs.

“Sara has nothing to do with this!” Rodrick just stared at her.

“Hey, guys,” Frank Heffley’s voice cut in.

Everyone turned to see Frank standing by the stairs, confused by the fact that his entire household was gathered near the front door just before dinner time.

“What’s going on?” he questioned.

Susan was the first to speak, as Rowley and Sara were both equally uncomfortable as guests in the Heffley house.

“Your son is refusing to re-clean his room before he leaves the house with his girlfriend,” Susan explained promptly.

“…But, I just saw his room, there’s just some clothes on the bed,” Frank said, before seeing the look of pure anger in his wife’s eyes.

Then, everyone was silent once again.

“Frank. Tell your son that he needs to respect my wishes, and that we feel his girlfriend has been a bad influence on him,” Susan spoke firmly.

“We do?” Frank questioned, feeling as if he’d missed something.

“Yes!”

“Hey, I can just leave,” Sara offered, standing up out of extreme discomfort.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Susan decided with a nod.

“No!” Rodrick cut in, angry on Sara’s behalf as she stood behind him. “You’re staying, and I’m gonna take you out for the best dinner ever!”

“Susan, maybe he can just clean his room once he gets home,” Frank offered a compromise, “You’ll be home before nine. Yes?” he asked with authority.

“Yes,” Rodrick nodded, growing frustrated with the situation.

“Absolutely not! He needs to learn responsibility!”

“He is learning responsibility!” Frank expressed. “And my stomach needs to learn what food is!”

“He hasn’t learned a thing!” Susan screamed back. “Not while he’s dating that—”

Greg’s face fell in horror, and his older brother was fuming. Sara stood behind Rodrick, experiencing more emotions than she cared to in the moment.

“While he’s dating that what, Mom?!” Rodrick shouted. “What is she, Mom?”

“She’s…” the woman just sighed. “She’s Bill.”

Rodrick’s eyes darkened with rage as everyone grew even more tense, if that was even possible.

Susan angrily shut her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. “Rodrick—“

“No. You don’t get to bash Sara, again, just because you’re pissed at me!”

“So Sara’s exempt from criticism, just because she’s your girlfriend?!”

“Jesus Christ!”

Everyone slowly turned in horror, seeing Sara sobbing as she remained beside Rodrick, who stood blocking the door, stained black tears running down her face.

“Can I please just leave?!” she screamed.

Her heart was beating faster than she could track it, and she was shaking profusely. Frank Heffley looked at her with pity as Greg and Rowley both started to get scared for her and Rodrick.

“No, babe,” Rodrick said, taking her hand, “We’re gonna sort this out.”

“Sort what out?!” Sara cried, “She’s never gonna like me! No matter what I do!”

“Well, why should I like you?!” Susan asked confrontationally. “You smell like cigarettes, and you do drugs with my son, and you put crazy ideas in his head!”

“Susan,” Frank said quietly, glancing up the stairs, “The kids…”

She was past the point of taking them into consideration.

“‘Crazy ideas’?!” Sara questioned. “What crazy ideas?!”

“That a 2.9 GPA is a good thing to have, for one!”

“That’s what this is about?!” Sara gasped. “Rodrick came over to my house, crying because you all but called him stupid! I told him he wasn’t stupid, how am I the asshole here?!”

“You cannot speak to me that way!” Susan thundered.

“And you can speak about me, and my family that way?!” Sara screamed.

“Oh, don’t play the victim!” Susan shouted. “Just because you’re the one with the white trash family, and the crazy mom, and the dead cousin, no one can criticize you!”

Sara’s eyes widened as she froze, every instinct in her body screaming at her to start swinging.

“Jesus Christ, Susan!” Frank exclaimed.

“No, I’m tired of it!” she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Sara as she froze, her fight or flight response beginning to kick in.

Evidently, ‘flight’ seemed to be the safer option when it came to your boyfriend’s mother.

“I’m tired of walking on eggshells around a seventeen year-old girl who used to do drink, and do drugs, and cut, and have sex with any boy who looked in her direction. My friend worked with her mother; even her own mother doesn’t like her! You should’ve heard the things she overheard!”

“Mom, stop!” Greg yelled.

But everything was already in motion. Sara had already forcibly pushed past Rodrick, and ran out the front door.

“Sara!”

Rodrick glared hatefully at his mother one last time before running out after her.

“Rodrick! Get back in here!” Susan shouted.

“Susan…!”

Frank didn’t even know what to say.

“What?!” she snapped furiously.

“Mom!” Greg cried, as Rowley ran up the stairs out of fear. “I love Sara!”

Susan looked up at her middle son in complete shock.

“What’s to like about a girl like that?!”

“Why do you hate her so much?!” Greg demanded.

“Because! She smokes, she drinks—”

“So does Rodrick!” he pointed out. “How is she any worse?!”

There was a pause as she tried to formulate a response.

“Mom, there was no reason to say that about her,” Greg sighed, hurt. “Sara loves Rodrick. And she loves us too.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Susan scoffed skeptically.

“Yes, she does!” Greg argued as his father just listened. “When she comes over, she asks you if she can give Manny candy, doesn’t she?”

There was no immediate answer to the question.

“When she comes over, she makes sure Rodrick does what he’s supposed to. She always makes sure he’s home on time when they go out. She asks me how school is, and she listens to my answer. She helped me with my history paper.

“She calls me names like ‘kid’ and ‘champ’ and ‘tiger’ because she thinks it’s funny. She told me if I ever wanna buy a girl jewelry, I have to know whether she likes gold or silver. She hugged Rowley for a full three minutes that time he came over after he heard his parents arguing,” Greg reminded her.

Susan was silent, not seeming to have any specific reaction to the case he’d made.

“Sara isn’t a bad influence on Rodrick. She’s the reason he’s happy. She’s the reason he hits me less and actually tries on his homework now,” Greg sighed. “Whatever‘s going on with you guys has nothing to do with her.”

Frank watched as his son ran back upstairs, taking one look at his wife before he ran outside.

“Sara! Sara!”

Rodrick was chasing her all down the block, breathless and terrified he was losing her.

“What?!” she demanded, still in tears.

“Come back!” he cried. “I’m sorry about my mom, let’s go back inside—”

“For what?!” Sara hissed, stopping as she slapped his hand away from her. “For her to just rub my family in my face again?! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what?” he stared, terrified of what was coming next.

“Maybe your mom was right,” she sighed, not knowing what to think or feel.

“What?! You’re not a bad influence on me!” he cried.

“No. Not about that,” she gulped, her voice cracking. “I think she was right… I’m not like you. I’m white trash,” she scoffed, laughing coldly.

A sad look graced Rodrick’s features as he tried to disagree with her as adamantly as possible.

“Mental illness and addiction run in my family like red hair, or twins. My mom’s a piece of work, and my stepdad’s a deadbeat with nowhere else to be,” she admitted. “I… I’m on the same path as everyone else in my family; schizophrenia, and a bullet in the head. I’m not like you; I’m not gonna grow out of this, the smoking and the crazy; you have everything ahead of you, and everything is behind me,” she concluded, running a hand through her messy blonde hair as her world slowly began to collapse.

“That’s not true!” Rodrick protested. “Any of it! I love you, Sara! You’re the smartest person I know! You’re nice, you’re kind, and you’re funny, and you help me, and you’re, like, the sun…! And you revolve around me, or something…! Fuck, I’m stupid! Fuck! Why am I so stupid?!”

“I make Bill look like the responsible sibling!” Sara laughed hysterically. “I’m a plane that’s already headed down.”

“That’s not true,” Rodrick repeated, a hopeless look in his sad eyes. “I love you.”

“That’s why you don’t see it,” Sara concluded, completely burnt out as she just walked off to her car.

Rodrick watched her go, unable to come up with anything smart or profound.

“Sara?!” he called, afraid she was truly walking away. “Sara?!”

She didn’t respond.

“Sara!” he screamed. “Sara… Please don’t leave me here,” he begged her.

Frank Heffley came running up with Greg now trailing after him, both of them worried for Rodrick as he sank to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn’t know what else to do, breaking down completely as Frank tried to comfort his son.

“I’m so stupid!” Rodrick wailed, as strangers seemed either curious or too nervous to acknowledge. “I’m fucking stupid! Stupid!”

Greg grimaced, physically pained as he’d never seen his older brother like this before.

“FUCKING STUPID! STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! I’M FUCKING STUPID! STUPID…!”

“This Night Has Opened My Eyes”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #doawk rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick x reader #rodrick fanfic #rodrick x y/n #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley x reader #devon bostick #doawk

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thaliagracesgf · 11 months ago

Note

THALIA GRACE X READER HEAR ME OUT OKAY I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO PUT MY IDEAS INTO WORDS BC ENGLISH IS NOT FIRST LANGUAGE

Maybe reader were part of their group (luke annabeth and thalia when they werent in the camp) and they had a little thing back than (crushing basically) but maybe something happenned along the way and she couldn't gowith them to the way of chb. and maybe they found reader but she's on lukes side

happy ending pls

i'm finally posting again!!! and answering a request!! i hope you enjoy this (even though i lowkey hate it).

also yay finally adding headers!!!

thalia grace x hestia!reader

summary is basically the request!!

constant arguing. constant, constant, constant arguing. luke’s head was about to split open.

“i could have handled him just fine, thanks,” thalia shouted, storming ahead on the narrow path through the woods somewhere in pennsylvania.

‘guys, please,” he would have thrown his head back if he wasn’t carrying a sleeping annabeth on his back. you thought she was the most adorable thing, drooling a little on luke’s shoulder. even the knife she kept clutched in her small fist was cute, although luke looked a little terrified that if she jolted in her sleep she would slice his chest open. a few weeks ago, you had convinced luke and thalia to stop, let you brush out her matted curls, and put her hair in braids that wouldn’t get caught or tangled as you all continued along the road. of course, thalia sat there critiquing every knot and part you made (with a celestial bronze knife, mind you).

“it had you pinned to the ground,” you said, referring to the stymphalian bird that had been chasing you from philadelphia. “it would have bitten your head clean off if you hadn’t gotten involved.”

thalia rolled her eyes.

“can we try a little patience here? gratitude, maybe?” luke chimed in.

“shut up, luke,” you said in unison. you might be bickering all the time, but thalia was your best friend. you certainly didn’t need luke coming in the middle, acting like he ran the show because he was the oldest. you got enough of that from thalia, and she was only a year older than you.

“for gods’ sake,” he muttered.

you trudged along, summoning soft flames between your hands. you hadn’t been born to a goddess, necessarily, but your adopted mother, who had fallen for a kind librarian in your town, had found your doorstep one day, long after the librarian had disappeared from her life, with a note attached. you had accidentally incinerated it shortly after she took you in, but she gave you the gist, which was that hestia had found you through a fire in an orphanage, enthralled by the flames, and that she had decided you were in need of a mother. she had pulled you through the hearth, given you some strange blessing, and dropped you on your mother’s doorstep.

eight years later, when you were nine, your mother had died in a plane crash on her way back from visiting her father. the foster homes hadn’t loved taking in a nine year old who could summon fire, so that was when you ran away.

so far, you could tell that hestia was trying her best to help you along your travels, which was more than you could say for hermes (ironically) or athena, let alone zeus, who you were pretty sure was the one stopping the others from intervening. you got the impression that hestia didn’t answer to zeus as much as he would have liked.

the fire came in handy at nights, when you could warm yourselves around it. you had a way of making even a campground in the middle of the appalachian mountains that crawled with monsters feel like home. you would go to sleep around the fire, but manage to wake up curled within thalia’s arms. you could never place it, but it felt different than how luke held annabeth like her life depended on it: as in, you would always wake to them giggling over their breakfasts at you, but it didn’t hold any weight to laugh at them.

⭑

the fire came in handy when you were trapped, alone, in the cyclops’ cellar. you had screamed for your friends to leave you, that you would be okay. and it came in handy on the streets of new york for the next five years, and even at the candy shop you managed to get a job in (somewhat illegally: a nice woman named sally did sort of pay you under the table).

then sally went missing. you lost your job, and you made your way south again, staying in the demigod hideouts you had made with luke, thalia, and annabeth. flames trickled across your skin as you cried, wishing they were still with you. you hoped they were safe at camp, but you could help wondering why they hadn’t sent anyone to come find you. did annabeth even remember you?

⭑

luke found you just as you were about to starve to death. you’d been in an especial depression, hiding in the cave of the blue ridge mountains, over in tennessee. the cold of the winter was insane. you couldn’t remember it ever getting that bad in the city.

you broke when he told you she was dead.

“it’s his fault,” he said, false tears in his eyes. he had long forced away any emotion pertaining to camp half-blood.

and so you joined him, becoming his right-hand man. the monsters in kronos’ army feared you. the girl with the flames, they whispered. yet in the privacy of your cabin, you silently prayed to hestia, let her guide you as you fought her brother.

it was she who told you to follow luke to mount tam.

⭑

the mountaintop was impossibly windy. you were relying entirely on your sword if there was trouble—any flame would be immediately extinguished.

you hadn’t accounted for the bigger threat—the air leaving your lungs at the sight of your sister on the ground as artemis held the sky beside her.

he promised.

he had promised annabeth would never be hurt.

your stomach churned. she didn’t even see you, bent over in pain. you couldn’t speak. you turned to luke, suddenly terrified. what had he done? what were you a part of? your legs turned to lead. no. he was already practicing. the titan lord was already too far in his mind to turn it around. and he sensed your allegiance shifting.

when she came over the hill your heart stopped.

your vision blurred as you saw her face. as she came to your side, held your face in her hands, and helped you to the ground beside annabeth.

you watched through teary eyes as she fought luke. as he fell from the cliff, you couldn’t help but reach out.

and then your vision darkened.

⭑

your eyes opened to warmth. annabeth sat by your side, brushing hair from your face. thalia stood talking to a boy—about twelve or thirteen, you guessed—and a man who shared annabeth’s dark skin and deep-in-thought expression.

she rushed to your side when annabeth called.

as she knelt beside you, you adjusted yourself on the couch. your hair was probably a disgusting mess. she smiled softly, brushing her own short hair behind her ear.

“i thought you were a tree,” you croaked, and she laughed lightly.

“i was. i thought you were cyclops food.”

“i wasn’t.”

she lowered her head, and you pushed yourself up on your elbows. she pushed a pillow behind your head, but held it up with the hand that wasn’t resting on your thigh. as she kissed you, you saw the years of camping behind you and the years ahead of rushing to her tree as the hunters arrived at camp all at once.

and as she pulled back, you saw annabeth smile, hiding her face in the other kid’s chest.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percy jackson #thaliagracesgf #thalia grace x reader #thalia grace #pjo x reader #hestia #artemis #thalia grace x you #thalia grace pjo

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cloverrr8 · 7 months ago

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Katelyn doesn’t like Lucinda. Or maybe she just doesn’t like her demeanor. She’s the opposite of Katelyn; articulate, cunning, flirtatious, always composed. Lucinda always holds the control, she always voiced her opinions, and she had no fear of disapproval. Katelyn is quiet, and when she isn’t quiet she is hostile. Despite being a member of the Jury of Nine, despite years of intense training and preparation, Katelyn can’t plan for shit. When others look to her for advice, her throat runs dry. Katelyn doesn’t give advice. She doesn’t argue in favor of her beliefs. In this regard, she is a follower. Lucinda didn’t listen to orders, she does what she pleases. She isn’t afraid to make her own decisions. Katelyn and Lucinda are two birds, one free to soar whenever it pleased, sing whatever tunes it wanted, the other caged and silent.

Being free from orders was a strange concept to Katelyn, one she assumed after abandoning the Jury of Nine. Yes, she had her issues working for such a corrupted organization, but it was all she ever knew. Lucinda had some ‘strong’ opinions about the Jury of Nine, which she informed Katelyn of shortly after they met. Due to her high-class O’Khasis upbringing and status within its government, she was unfamiliar with the disrespect Lucinda gives her. Teasing, Aphmau calls it. Lucinda is teasing Katelyn, just making jokes to lighten Katelyn’s persistently tense manner. She does it to everybody, Katelyn notices, but that doesn’t make her hate the comments less.

One day, Katelyn snaps. Lucinda is talking about her old village, about when O’Khasis invaded it. She looks over at Katelyn mocks her for who she used to work for, who she used to be. Katelyn punches Lucinda. In the face. And almost breaks her nose. Aphmau is pissed. She says Katelyn needs to at least tolerate Lucinda or there would be consequences.

Lucinda walks up to Katelyn as she storms out of Aphmau’s home, still bruised from her outburst. She apologizes for her teasing. At first, Katelyn thinks Aphmau ordered her to say sorry. But even if she had, Lucinda would only do so if she truly wanted to. “I was being too harsh on you, I know you’ve given up your entire life to join the Phoenix Alliance. So it wasn’t fair of me to tease you for your past life. Can you forgive me?” In an unnaturally nervous manner, Lucinda holds out her hand. It’s the first time anyone here has given Katelyn a decision. She’s almost never makes decisions for anyone, not even herself. She didn’t even make the choice to attend Guard Academy, that has her father’s doing. Shy eyes avoid assertive ones. Lucinda is giving her control over the situation to Katelyn. Slowly, Katelyn maneuvers her hand to meet Lucinda’s. She can feel the soft warmth emanating from it, despite a silky glove blocking true contact. Lucinda smiles sweetly, and jokes that Katelyn has a handshake too strong not to be a warrior. It’s a compliment, Katelyn doesn’t get compliments often. Maybe she doesn’t know how to handle arguments and making difficult judgements, but Lucinda does. And maybe she can teach Katelyn to fight, not just because others tell her to, but because she knows she is making the right decision in doing so.

#aphmau #aphblr #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau katelyn #aphmau lucinda #katecinda #they are in love #or they will be #minecraft diaries rewrite #aphmau rewrite

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tala-bez-i · 8 months ago

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At first sight Chapter Twenty-Nine

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 5040

This chapter may not be pleasant to read for some people.

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“I know it's too early, Hanma. Listen, did that bitch had said anything about their boss?” Sanzu paced around the living room, his voice growing irritated.

“We already established that Kuroda and the rest were just admins, so stop talking nonsense.”

The question was swirling in your mind about what Yuji had done to you that your subconscious had decided to erase his existence from your memory as much as possible. In fact, you didn't remember many events related to his character, and yet he spent almost all his time at home.

He was older than you by how much? About 12-13 years? Yeah. Mai was seven years younger than him, and when she was home, he was never far from her side. He helped her with her studies, with her school projects...

“She must know something!” Sanzu shouted, stopping in his tracks, and as you sipped the alcohol from the glass, you saw the hand he had clenched into a fist starting to shake. “Maybe it would be easier if I talked to her myself? Oh, you know I would get everything I want to know out of that bitch.”

He was never far from her side... You were just a little shit who didn't understand many things back then, but now...

“Yuji was obsessed with her.” You mumbled and drank the contents of the glass in one gulp. “He was fucking obsessed with her.”

The pink-haired man continued talking, or rather arguing, with Hanma on the phone, completely ignoring your words. Maybe he didn't even hear them, so without anyone stopping you, you took the bottle of alcohol you had just started and started drinking straight from the bottle.

You remembered your father's words, which you once overheard while walking past your parents' bedroom.

“It's not healthy, Sachiko. He does something he shouldn't. We are Family."

"I know babe. Mai is afraid of him.”

“He treats Tomoko like a sister…”

“Which it is by virtue of actual kinship. Yuji just got lost..."

“Don't defend him. He's my son, my firstborn, but I can't bear to look at him. I can't accept what he's doing, and neither can you."

“Kenzou…”

“He's 25 years old, damn it, he's not a kid!”

You didn't hear the rest of the conversation because your father closed the door, not knowing that you were standing right next to them. You remembered taking steps towards your eldest sister's room, but on the way, Tomoko grabbed you, placing a finger to her lips to keep you quiet.

You knew what that meant. Yuji was at home, in his room, and if he heard you around Mai, you would be in serious trouble.

You felt the alcohol starting to burn your throat, but you didn't mind. The feeling was strangely soothing and as soon as you noticed that there wasn't much alcohol left at the bottom and Sanzu left for the bedroom - still talking on the phone, you got up from the sofa and went to the small bar where he kept more alcohol.

You were going to get drunk, even drink yourself into unconsciousness, which would allow you to forget about your brother, at least for a moment. Too bad, maybe Sanzu will kill you for your weakness, but you didn't give a damn about it.

“Yes, I have my suspicions.” Haruchiyo said louder, returning to the living room wearing a shirt and pants. “I won't tell you who we mean… Yes, we, me and Y/n…”

You started drinking from another bottle, feeling an increasingly pleasant tingling sensation in all your limbs. You took two more bottles in your hand and headed back to the sofa so you could sit on it and enjoy your alcoholic beverages.

Suddenly, Sanzu's hand took one of the bottles from you, and when you looked at his face, it had a strange expression mixed with irritation at the drawn-out conversation with Shuji Hanma. He shook his head and you shrugged, continuing your journey to the comfortable lounge furniture.

“Focus, Hanma. How the fuck are you focused?” He loudly put the bottle back in its place and began pacing around the room again. You watched him calmly, taking a sip of alcohol from the bottle every now and then. “Who did she mention? Yuu? So, this fucker is their boss? Good, good. Now we're starting to come to some sort of agreement, you fucker..."

Yuu... Yuuta... Yuji...

You took a few long gulps and leaned your head back, mumbling under your breath. “Yuji might be Yuu…”

"What?" You heard Haruchiyo's voice close to you. “Not you, Hanma. Y/n, what did you say?”

“Yuji might be Yuu. I wouldn't be surprised at all. He's a fucking psycho." You answered him, staring at the ceiling.

“Fuck... Yeah, Yuji is the guy we suspect. Don't eavesdrop..." Sanzu growled into the phone and took a few steps forward, then stopped and walked to the sofa where you were drinking alcohol. “Why do you think so?”

You shrugged. "And why not?"

“Hanma, deal with Emiko. Get more out of her about this whole Yuu thing.” Sanzu said after a while and ended the call, throwing the phone onto one of the armchairs. “Stop drinking.”

You ignored him, finishing the bottle of liquor and setting it on the coffee table. Sanzu sat down in the other armchair and out of the corner of your eye you saw him swallowing drugs. You looked at the last bottle he hadn't taken from you and grimaced slightly.

“You don't have any vodka?”

“Should I take this away from you?” The answer came, so you shrugged, accepting the type of drink and took a sip. “Stop drinking, I'm serious.”

“Take care of your pills.” You grunted and you get hit with a small pillow, which you put aside unfazed and poured the burning liquid into your mouth again.

“Why would your brother compete with Bonten?”

“He's not competing with Bonten.”

“Care to explain what you mean?” Haruchiyo asked, still irritated. “He's endangering Mikey.”

"Not him. Yuji is endangering me. The murdering of whores and the actual attempts to threaten the syndicate was solely on the part of Kuroda and the rest.” You answered after a short moment of thought.

“And the Uchiyamas?”

You stopped your hand with the bottle halfway to your mouth. Well, what about them?

“Maybe… Fifty fifty?”

"What?"

“They acted as a means of disposing of our prostitutes, but because of Emiko they were more… Umm… Related to… Harming me? I don't know, Sanzu.”

“She didn't know you were alive. Have you forgotten that there was a contract for your head?”

Exactly. You forgot. You placed the bottle between your thighs so you wouldn't have to reach for it on the table, and you clearly intended to drink the entire contents. No matter what Haru said...

“So, they were going to harm Bonten.” You said, running your fingers through your hair.

“But they worked directly for Yuu, not Kuroda and Nagano like everyone thought, so…”

“Don't mess with my head, Sanzu, for fuck's sake.” You interrupted him and drank from the bottle again.

“Not in that tone.” Haruchiyo stood up abruptly from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to you. He grabbed the bottle you held close to your mouth and tried to take it away from you. “Give it back, you've had enough to drink.”

“No.” You slapped his hand and saw his eyes widen in disbelief. “Let me finish. I need it."

“You need purity of mind, not alcohol!” The man got angry and tried to take the bottle from you again, but you grabbed it from his grasp and wagged your finger at him.

“Let. Me. Finish.” You gritted out through your teeth and then you felt a stinging pain on your cheek and your head snapped to the side. Haruchiyo slapped you.

This time, when his hand reached for the bottle that was still in your hand, you let him take it. You were too busy trying not to punch him back to react to the confiscation.

“You're getting nasty.” He said, still nervous, but sat down next to you and turned your face towards him. “Can't you see this motherfucker is starting to control you? You haven't even seen him yet and he already has power over you."

“Let Hanma cut off her next fingers.” You mumbled, feeling the effects of the alcohol again. Your eyes began to move over Sanzu's face, not lingering on any point.

“He's already cut off enough of her fingers.” The pink-haired man grimaced as he watched your face.

“Then let him cut off the rest of them. We won't let her go anyway.”

“Y/n…”

“If not the fingers, let him start burning her.” You huffed, tightening your fingers on his wrists.

“Knowing Hanma, he's already tried that…”

“Then let him roast her nipples. Damn it, Sanzu... She doesn't need them for anything.”

His bright eyes widened, and his face showed disbelief once again. "What?"

You licked your lips, feeling your mouth dry and moved his hands away from your face. “You heard me. I can do it myself..."

“Y/n…” Haruchiyo laughed uncertainly, watching you struggle to get up from the sofa and take a few wobbly steps towards the entrance door to the apartment. “You won't go anywhere in this condition. You won't even be able to put your shoes on..."

“Then I'll go barefoot…” You mumbled, holding yourself against the wall.

"Absolutely not." The man sighed and grabbed your arm confidently, offering you better support, which you took advantage of.

“For me, Hanma can burn her cunt. She won't get much use out of it.”

“God, Y/n... I've never known you like this before.” He chuckled as he led you towards the door, but it wasn't until you were through them that you noticed that you had gone through the wrong one.

“Haru, silly, this is the bedroom…” You frowned and tried to turn around, eager to try to leave the apartment again, but his grip on his fingers tightened.

“Oh, I know what I'm doing.” The other sighed and pushed you onto the bed, where you fell rather limply.

You propped yourself awkwardly on your elbows and lifted your head with difficulty to look at the pink-haired man who poured a glass of water from a carafe on the cabinet and sat on the edge of the bed, handing it to you.

“Drink this. You barely ate anything, and you shouldn't drink on an empty stomach... Even Rindou wouldn't be that drunk after so much alcohol.” He said in a calm voice and you took the glass from him.

You drank its contents and your head fell back onto the mattress. “Don't tell him about this... Please.” You mumbled as you felt your eyelids getting heavy.

You saw Haruchiyo's face above you, watching yours closely. His soft hair tickled your cheeks and the fingers of his hand danced over your healing lip and eyebrow.

“I'm tired…” You muttered quietly and closed your eyes, feeling everything start to spin.

“Of course you are, honey.” Sanzu answered you and you felt something warm and wet on your cheek, followed by a few small kisses. “Sleep, Y/n.” Tickling on the neck. “I'll take care of everything, you don't have to worry about anything.”

His voice was soft, warm... Soothing. You wanted to look at him, but you could only open one eye. He was still leaning over you, the warmth of his body surrounding you in a pleasant wave.

You tried to lift your hand to touch him, but his hands were faster and pressed yours to the mattress above your head.

“Haru?...”

“Shhh…” He kissed your ear and you sighed softly. “Let me take care of you.” You felt another kiss on your neck and you tried to move your hand again, but this time you couldn't. You didn't have the strength for it.

The alcohol must have had a much greater effect on you than usual, but you didn't feel the slightest bit anxious. Sanzu was with you, and you knew everything would be okay. He said so himself...

You saw his face again and his rosy lips were stretching into a beautiful smile, so the corners of your mouth twitched upwards slightly, trying to answer him in kind.

He kissed you tenderly and you blew out a breath through your nose, closing your eyes and giving in to another wave of tiredness.

“Such a good boy.” You heard him whisper and fell asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up after what felt like an eternity of sleep. Your body felt numb, as if you were sleeping in a very uncomfortable position, but you were lying on your back with your head on a soft pillow. You moved your sluggish limbs and forced yourself to sit up with great difficulty.

Your head was dropped to your chest, but you managed to lift it and looked around the room. You were still in Sanzu's bedroom, but it was almost completely bathed in darkness. Only in the corner of the room, right next to the door to his dressing room, there was a lamp lit, giving dim light.

You expected a severe headache, but apart from slow movements, nothing else bothered you. You slid your legs off the bed and your bare feet touched the cool floor. You looked around again for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. It probably was in the living room...

You stood up carefully and took your first few steps. It wasn't bad, really. Your body began to respond faster to the stimuli sent to your brain and after a while you opened the bedroom door. The living room was also lit in several places by standing lamps, but there was no one in sight.

“Sanzu?” You called out hesitantly, but silence answered you, so you took a few more steps and looked at the clock hanging on the wall.

His hands showed 1:23 past midnight.

“Haruchiyo?” You called out, looking into his small kitchen once again, but there was no sign of the man there either.

You returned to the living room and looked at the cabinet where you always put your house and car keys, but they were nowhere to be found. The pink-haired man's keys were also missing.

You walked closer to the front door and saw that his shoes were missing. He left the apartment. He left you alone.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled and feeling anxious, you searched for your phone, but after twenty minutes you were unable to find it anywhere. This could only mean one thing. Sanzu took it with him.

You went back to the front door and pressed the handle. Closed. Sanzu locked the door and you knew you wouldn't be able to open it without the key.

Jacket... You usually had the spare key to his apartment right there in your jacket, and unless Haru checked it...

You ran back to the bedroom and grabbed the said article of clothing that was slung over the back of the chair and started checking the pockets.

“There it is!” You smiled broadly as you pulled out a key from your inside pocket.

Your smile quickly disappeared when you realized your weapon was missing and you cursed loudly. What was he thinking? And above all, where did he go?

You put on your jacket and went back to the front door, where you put on your shoes and inserted the key into the lock, turning it, and you were ready to leave your would-be prison. You locked the door from the outside and headed for the elevator to get to...

Yes, to get to your car. Genius. You didn't have the key!

You swore again and took the elevator down to the ground floor and into the lobby, where you stopped and bit the inside of your cheek lightly. So where did you want to go? You placed your hands on your hips and lowered your head. Maybe home? You had a spare key hidden under the flowerpot on the porch... You could take the other gun and...

You looked up at your reflection in the door of another elevator. You could have gone to where Emiko was being held and extracted the information you needed from her yourself. You had to make sure your thoughts were correct and that Yuu was Yuji...

Yes. It wasn't a stupid idea. You left the building and walked towards a nearby taxi stand.

As you drove to your address, thoughts flooded your mind again. Where was Sanzu and why did he take your stuff? What happened? One thing was certain, you would settle accounts with him and put the idea of imprisoning you in such a way out of his mind again.

You paid for the ride with the rest of the cash you had in your pants pocket and entered your house without any problems, but as soon as you got to the room where your spare weapon was hidden, it turned out that someone had taken it as well.

“Damn it!” You swore, punching the wall next to the locker door. "Sanzu, you dumb fuck!"

Oh, you'll definitely teach him a lesson this time. He could count on it.

You quickly left the room and went down to the basement, hoping that Hanma hadn't told him where you had another weapons stash.

You moved a cabinet away from the wall, with a few tools lying on it, and entered the code on a small keyboard. The light changed from red to green and you opened the door. You were immediately relieved when you saw your two extra guns and several full magazines full of bullets. You took one and put the holster under your jacket. Now you really wanted to talk to Emiko. You won't let yourself be stopped.

You entered the garage and grimaced slightly seeing that your only options were a bike and... Your face relaxed slightly at the sight of your first baby - the Kawasaki ZX-10R Ninja. It didn't quite match the suit right now, but... You shrugged and drove it out of the garage, enjoying the sound of its engine all over again.

You rushed to the address of the warehouse that was etched in your memory, bearing in mind the fact that at such a late hour you might attract the attention of a police patrol. Even though you were focused on the road, you had your eyes peeled, just in case.

The journey didn't take you very long, but as soon as you entered the gates of the warehouse area, you let the machine continue to run at low speeds, trying not to make any noise. You had a strange feeling that you shouldn't draw attention to yourself.

You left your motorcycle behind the crates and listened. Silence. No talking or footsteps. For all you knew, there should have been a few people outside and at least five more inside.

You looked around carefully and saw a black SUV that belonged to the syndicate. Maybe the boys took a short nap break? You didn't blame them.

You stepped closer to see for yourself. You no longer cared whether they reported you to Hanma or Mikey himself. You had the right to show up here and it didn't have to be related to the fact that your ex was in the warehouse. The official version you knew was that the woman was outside of Tokyo.

The closer you got to the car, the more your stomach tightened. Something was wrong, very wrong. You stopped right in front of the driver's side door and without thinking, you pulled out your gun. You held it at ready and pulled the car door handle.

“Fuck…” You whispered as you saw the limp bodies and traces of blood.

You touched one of the men's necks and felt no pulse. The bodies were still warm, which meant they had been killed a few minutes ago. You looked at your hand and saw it was covered in blood. You wiped it on the man's clothes and looked towards the door to the warehouse.

If this was the situation outside, what was inside?

You sneaked to the door of the building and listened, but you didn't hear anything, so you opened the door and slipped inside the warehouse. The first thing you saw were more bodies of men working for Bonten lying in pools of blood.

It was bad, very bad. You walked towards the back rooms where Emiko was supposed to be kept and the closer you got, the more clearly you heard the conversation.

“…you don't understand…” A man said. “Hanma…can't find out.”

"I do not care about it." Another one growled, and you immediately recognized the voice you heard on the recordings from the basement of the Uchiyama house. Daisuke Sugiyama.

“But I care... Take away... disappear.”

You pressed your back against the wall next to the open door to the dimly lit room and listened.

“I'll take the car.” Sugiyama said and the other man cursed.

"Absolutely not. How will I explain this, eh?” The first man protested. “Take the woman away until Hanma shows up and fuck off.”

“Can't you see what condition she's in? She won’t make it to my car.”

“Then fucking carry her!”

The sound of a struggle and the man's quiet groaning. “Don't talk back to me. Don't forget who you work for.”

“Fine... I'll say they stole it... Fuck, let me go.”

The sound of bumping into some furniture or crates and the quiet sobbing of a woman.

“Shhh, baby. It's okay. I'll take you away from here. They won't hurt you anymore.” Sugiyama's tone was sickly tender and you felt bile rising in your throat. He really loved her...

“Move, the fuck.” The first man spoke again. “Look what time it is! Hanma is expected to be here within sixty minutes!”

“Why so early?”

“He's supposed to ask her about the boss. I only know this much.”

“He won't know shit.”

“Get out of here before the guard wakes up…”

“They won't wake up.” Sugiyama said and a female voice spoke.

“Look what they did to me, honey. Look what they did to me..."

“Shhh... They'll pay us for this. My poor thing.”

“What do you mean they won't wake up?” The first man became concerned.

"This." Emiko's husband answered him briefly and there was a gun shot, followed by the sound of a falling body.

Your heart started beating faster with the sudden rush of adrenaline and as the door opened wider, you grabbed the man leaving by the collar of his shirt and threw him against the wall.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small female figure fall to the floor, but you decided to ignore it now and focus on the taller man who, despite the moment of surprise, quickly responded with an accurate punch to your face.

You stepped back and when you aimed the gun at him, he knocked it out of your hand with a strong kick. The gun slid across the floor and as you shielded yourself from Sugiyama's next attacks, you heard a woman scream in frustration.

You looked towards her and saw that she was trying to lift the gun, but due to several of her fingers being missing, she wasn't able to get a good grip on it. She threw the weapon further to the side and jumped to her feet.

“Get in the car!” Sugiyama shouted and his next well-placed punch to your head sent you reeling backwards.

You expected the man to be as strong as Hanma, but you had little hope that his age would slow him down even a little. Oh, how wrong you were...

Somehow you managed to land a few punches, though he blocked most of them without much effort. You kicked him in the side and the man fell into a pile of crates nearby. He grabbed onto one of them and gave you a hateful, icy glare. He smirked and nodded at you.

“Now I see who Yuuta got his beauty from. It became clear why my butterfly hated the little one so much.” He said contemptuously and your blood boiled.

“You'll pay for what you did to him, you son of a bitch!”

“Oh, come on…” He brushed his hair back from his face and laughed. “God, he was such a sweet baby. So obedient and lovely..."

"Shut the fuck up!" You screamed and lunged at him, but just as you were about to grab him by the shirt and punch him in the face again, he pulled out a metal pipe from behind one of the crates and hit you on the head with what seemed like all his strength.

Your ears were ringing and the pain was splitting your head. You fell onto the dirty warehouse floor, completely blind for a moment, and doubled over as you felt a strong kick to your stomach. Immediately afterward, you felt several blows from a metal pipe all over your body and you automatically tried to protect your head with your hands.

“Now you'll die, you bastard! Oh, the boss would like to do it himself, but…” Another series of blows. “He'll have to forgive me... This moment of weakness!”

Somewhere in the distance, you heard another scream from a woman calling for Sugiyama, and a wave of energy washed over you. You grabbed the metal pipe that was getting closer to your body again, yanking it out of the man's hand and throwing it far to the side. With a well-aimed kick, you knocked him off his feet and quickly sat on his chest.

Both of your hands shot to his neck, and you began to tighten your fingers around it. Your breathing was heavy, and you were panting loudly, the metallic taste of your own blood on your tongue as it dripped from your nose. You felt wetness on half of your face, and you wouldn't be surprised if the first hit of the pipe cut the skin on your head.

“Who is your boss?!” You drawled, looking Sugiyama straight in the eyes, where you saw blood vessels starting to burst.

The man's only response was a loud wheeze, so you slammed his head against the floor.

“Who is your boss?!”

"Y...Yu...ji..." The man drawled with difficulty and blood poured from his nose.

Your eyes widened in horror, but you didn't loosen your grip on his throat. Yuji, Yuji...

"Where is he?"

Another wheezing noise from him was drowned out by the roar of the engine and when you raised your head, you saw the headlights of a car speeding towards you.

You cursed loudly and jumped away from the man beneath you at the last moment. There were a few sickly wet cracks, you felt a few drops land on your face, and the front of the car hit the standing crates. You looked with horror and disbelief at the bloody body of a man who was dying before your eyes.

She ran over him! That fucking bitch didn't hesitate to run over him!

You were broken out of your trance by the screech of the car's tires as it reversed rapidly. His rear wheels ran over Daisuke's head and his legs jumped up. Without waiting for anything else, you jumped to your feet and ran away from the front wheels of the car that moved rapidly towards you. Instead of aiming at you, the vehicle crashed into the warehouse gate and with a loud bang, the car drove outside, leaving you alone.

Your poor heart almost beat out of your chest as you fell to your knees to catch your breath. You didn't want to look towards the dead body of the man who hurt your son. You covered your mouth with your hand and, ignoring the fact that Emiko might be waiting for you outside, you ran out of the warehouse and fell to your knees again, vomiting.

Your eyes stung from the exertion of puking and tears flowed from them. Emiko ran over him... She ran over him...

“Y/n?!” You heard someone screaming, but you didn't respond to it.

“Y/n!” Someone rushed up to you and grabbed your arms with such force that you had to grab onto something to keep your balance.

You looked into terrified, wide light eyes, framed by long, thick pink eyelashes, and you knew who you had in front of you...

“Sanzu…” You whispered and saw Hanma standing behind him with a look of complete surprise on his face.

"What are you doing here?!" His eyes widened even more when he saw the state you were in, then he looked towards the warehouse and its ruined gate. “What the fuck happened here?!”

“Sugiyama came for Emiko. She ran away…” You started to explain, your body starting to shake. “One of the guards was a traitor... She escaped!”

Hanma moved towards the SUV and looked inside, then quickly ran to the warehouse.

“You shouldn't be here…” Sanzu pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping your face with it. “How did you get out of my apartment?”

“She ran over him with one of our cars, Sanzu… She tried to run me over, but she killed Sugiyama…” You tightened your fingers on his forearms and the pink-haired man froze, staring at your face in horror. “She didn't hesitate for a moment…”

“And the fun is over.” Hanma sighed loudly as he walked towards you and out of the corner of your eye you saw him signaling to the people who had come with him and Sanzu. “It needs to be cleaned up and all traces removed. Get to work, boys.”

Sanzu helped you up from the ground, holding your arm tightly as Hanma leaned forward slightly, pursing his lips. “Please, tell me that you at least had the idea to ask them about their boss, Y/n….”

“Hanma…” Sanzu growled warningly, but you nodded.

“Sugiyama confirmed my suspicions.” You swallowed loudly, looking into Shuji's golden eyes. “Yuji L/n is their boss.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x y/n #male reader #tokyo revengers haruchiyo sanzu #haruchiyo sanzu #haruchiyo sanzu x reader

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abbatoirablaze · 1 month ago

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Behind Closed Doors, Chapter 24

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: sexual situations/teasing.

“GO AWAY, BUTT BREATH!” Jack yelled at his younger brother, pushing the six-year-old. Lance fell into James, and the two youngest boys started arguing with one another as Sebastian tried to focus on the email that he was sent from his manager.

“Let go of my fabric, Jeff!” Shayla growled, trying to rip the sequined fabric from her younger brother.

“I had it first!” he argued, “you let it go!”

“MOM!”

“She’s not home, butt breath!”

“DAD!”

“STOP IT!” Johnny growled as he tried to walk through the throng of his siblings who were all congregating in the living room. He continued to mindlessly text on his cell phone, but elbowed Jack as the second eldest boy sat beside him.

“Who are you texting?” Jack asked quickly, trying to look over his older brother’s shoulder, “is it Jahlise?”

“Go away you butthead!”

“Guys, I’m trying to concentrate!” Sebastian said patiently, “can you separate yourselves if you’re gonna argue?”

“Dad, when’s mom getting home from work?”

“I’m hungry. When are you making lunch?” Jack asked, looking at his father.

“Can we have pizza?”

“I want pizza!” James chimed in.

“NO!” Lance all but squeaked, “MAC N CHEESE, DADDY!”

“Daddy can’t cook!” Jefferson whined as he stopped arguing long enough with his sister to comment on his father’s cooking skills, “I don’t like when he cooks. Daddy, order in.”

“Guys…give me like five minutes,” Sebastian pled, “I’m trying to get through this email for-“

Sebastian’s words fell flat as James pushed Lance and he fell into one year old Gia who was toddling around. She fell flat on her butt and looked at Sebastian in shock. When Sebastian’s mouth fell open, she screamed and started bawling, which led Sebastian to tossing his laptop beside himself without a second thought and rushing towards her.

“No, no, no…it’s okay baby girl,” he cooed, trying to get his youngest to stop crying, “it’s okay honey. You’re okay, see. Daddy’s here. I-“

“MAMAAAA!” the one-year-old screamed in his face, sobbing, “MAMAAAAAA!”

“Baby girl, I’m here,” he said quickly as he tried to reassure her, “daddy can make it better. I-“

“MAKE HER STOP CRYING!” Jack groaned as he covered his ears, “god she’s so annoying when she’s screaming like that!”

“Johnny-Jeff-DAMN IT, JACK!” Sebastian growled, cutting himself off every time he said the wrong kid’s name. He couldn’t focus with Gia screaming in his ear and sobbing against his neck, “if you aren’t going to help go to another room.”

“This is stupid,” he muttered, getting up from the couch, “I want to leave this stupid house! We’re all stuck here because of that stupid-“

“JACK!”

The pre-teen rolled his eyes and left the living room.

“Dad, can you make her stop though?” Johnny asked.

“Shay?” Sebastian asked hopefully, looking to his elder daughter.

She rolled her eyes and let go of the fabric, finally letting Jefferson win the battle. The nine-year-old ran off with it to his room, to undoubtedly start a new sewing project, while Shayla took her baby sister from her father’s arms.

“It’s okay bug…” she cooed, rocking her little sister, “you’re okay.”

“Mama…wan mamma!”

“Mom’s at work, bug,” Shayla reminded the infant, “come on…let’s go get you a popsicle…will that make it better?”

The one-year-old quieted herself, but cried a little bit more as she nodded, “poppy!”

“Yeah, bug…we’ll get a poppy for you!” she agreed. Sebastian sighed sadly as he watched Shayla take Gia to the kitchen for a popsicle, leaving Johnny, Lance, and James in the living room with him.

“You two…stop pushing each other,” Sebastian said firmly to his two youngest boys, “if you keep doing it, I’ll tell mom when she gets home.”

The two little boys looked at each other nervously and Johnny chuckled.

“Go play with your blocks in your bedroom,” Sebastian began, “I’ll come get you when lunch is ready.”

“Yes daddy.”

“Okay daddy.”

The two boys walked off and Sebastian turned his attention to Johnny, “what are you laughing at, Johnny?”

“You’re really bad at this,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I thought you told mom you could handle it.”

“I can…”

“No, you can’t. After the first month you fired the nannies that watched the little ones because you thought it was easy,” he said with a shake of his head, “it’s only been two months since then and every day all anyone does is fight. Have you even replied to a single message your manager sent you? Because you haven’t said anything to mom about hiring someone for when you go to film for a movie.”

“And what if I told mom about something?” he asked quickly, “what if we talked about you and Shayla watching the younger ones? Filming takes a while to set up now that the world is shut down, you know!”

“Shayla would tear Jefferson’s head off and they’d do what they were doing today. And you know that Jack would be crying when you got home about something because he’s always trying to be up my butt!”

“Language young man.”

“Come on…it’s not like I cussed.”

“Johnny!”

“Dad…if you don’t want to hire someone to watch the little ones, it’s okay, but you and mom need to really look into buying a bigger place,” he shrugged, “a lot of the problems would be solved if we had space…but you guys have had us in this apartment since way before the pandemic hit…we haven’t even seen mom in a few days because there was an outbreak at her hospital and she has to quarantine.”

Sebastian frowned as his son pointed out all of the flaws from you having been a working woman.

He hadn’t been good at being a stay-at-home dad.

And the kids really weren’t responding to him the way that he thought they would.

You were like the captain of the ship with the kids, and now that you weren’t home, and he’d fired the nannies, it was like everything was falling apart.

“Do you think mom would be mad if I asked her to quit?” he asked softly, “I-I don’t know if I can handle this all, Johnny. I mean, we’re fine financially…we’ll never have to worry, but I don’t know if I can do this alone…and the nannies weren’t that much of a help anyways.”

“You know how mom is,” he answered honestly, “she’d do anything for you dad. She’d do anything for us.”

“Yeah…”

“You just have to ask her,” he said firmly, “tell her what you need.”

“When did you get so wise, huh?”

“I don’t know…mom says I just became a smartass when I turned thirteen…but maybe my wisdom came with the birthday,” he smirked, “or maybe it’s because I understand relationships.”

“You talking to Jahlise doesn’t qualify you as a relationship expert, Johnny!” Shayla called from the kitchen.

“See,” Johnny grumbled, “we definitely need a bigger house, dad…you can hear everything in this place.”

“No, no, daddy. Too serious!” Gia cooed as she grabbed her father’s face between her little hands. Sebastian chuckled and she continued to shake her head at him, pulling his face even closer, “daddy no!”

“What’s too serious, baby girl?” he asked to the little girl who was on the counter.

“Daddy be sweet!” she suggested, “Wan love daddy!”

“What?” he asked, “you don’t love daddy right now as this character?”

“Love daddy!” she repeated in a huffy voice, “daddy be sweet!”

“I think she wants you to be charming Mr. Stan,” you teased your husband. Gia giggled and nodded over her shoulder to you, “what do you think daddy can do to be charming, baby girl?”

Gia reached up and pulled Sebastian’s hat off of her head, putting it back on his.

“Daddy dance!”

“You want daddy to dance?” he asked playfully. She nodded, “you think we need to loosen up and have a dance party?”

“Dance party daddy!”

“You want a dance party?”

“YEAH!”

“I mean…there is a scene she sent me that involves the character preparing dinner and it’s supposed to be improved…I guess I could dance to get in the mood?”

“YEAH!”

“Okay…but just for a minute,” he smiled holding his hands out to her, “will you dance with me?”

“We dance!”

Sebastian smiled and handed you his phone, “can you hold this, so she doesn’t knock it off the counter while we’re dancing honey?”

“Oh, but of course!”

He smiled and leaned over the island, and you did the same, pressing a firm kiss to his lips, “enjoy your dance party, Sebastian.”

He smiled at you and started dancing from behind the counter. Gia squealed and started dancing off to the side.

You whistled at your husband, and he smiled.

“You wanna see daddy dance with a knife?”

“I wanna see daddy dance with something else,” you smirked, teasing your husband as you pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, “maybe later tonight.”

“You’re naughty, Mrs. Stan!” he smirked.

You whistled at him as a new song played and Gia giggled. You pretended to be texting but gently put his phone down, propping it up and pressing record. He spun around and continued moving as he picked up a knife, moving along with the beat. A second later he was tossing his hat off and swinging the knife around while thrusting his hips. He ended it with a stab, and you cut off the video while your daughter continued to squeal.

“DADDY SWEET!”

“I think she liked that, daddy!”

He smiled and put the knife down on the counter, before turning towards Gia, “Did you like that Gi? Do you think daddy loosened up enough?”

“Daddy good!”

“Do you think daddy could catch someone like mommy acting like that?”

“YEAH!”

“Oh yeah?” he smiled, reaching over and scooping the two-year-old in his arms. You smiled as he balanced her on his hip and turned to you, “you hear that, mommy? Gi Gi said that daddy gets to catch you now because he did so good.”

“Hmmm…well, I think that might be an option…if we can get her down for a nap before the other kids get home from school.”

Sebastian’s brow lifted, “oh really?”

“Might even be able to get in some additional practice for your…character too.”

You watched as your husband sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and bit it before looking to Gia, “what do you say, pumpkin…you ready for a nap?”

“Not tired, daddy…” she whined.

“But what if daddy and mommy are tired and need a nap?” he asked, “can you try to take a nap for us so we can get one?”

She huffed and seemed to ponder the idea before looking at you, reaching out, “mommy tuck me in?”

You smiled and walked around the island, taking your daughter from your husband, “of course mommy can tuck you in baby.”

You felt Sebastian shifting behind you, and he grabbed your hips. He was quick in pulling you towards himself. You gasped, feeling his erection growing as he pressed against you, “you get her tucked in…then you can tuck me in?”

You giggled and nodded, and Sebastian reached for the phone while you went towards Gia’s bedroom.

“I’m just going to send Mimi that last take I did where I was reading my lines to Gia…I’ll be right up.”

“You better hurry, daddy…it doesn’t take long to get Gia tucked in…and we both know that when she naps, she doesn’t nap long.”

“Coming!” he answered, opening his email and typing in the director’s name. He started typing out his message, letting her know that he was excited about the role and that he hoped he liked her submission, but that if she needed to see him in another light, as the character had a lot of complexities, that he was willing to take notes and another scene.

“Mr. Kemp…I’m ready to tuck you in!” you called from down the hall.

Sebastian was quick to click on the first file that popped up, and he submitted it, sending the email; not realizing that it was in fact the video that you’d just taken of him dancing with the knife.

“Coming!”

“Not yet, you aren’t!” you teased.

Chapter 25

#behind closed doors #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #brendan kemp #steven kemp #fresh

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say-hwaet · 16 days ago

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If I Had to Do it All Again

Chapter 8: He's Just a Boy, Part II Next Chapter: Nine Summary: In an effort to make Isaac feel special, you and members of the gang put on an impromptu party. Warnings: Language, Mature themes Word Count: ~10,400

The farm, that you’ve unofficially named Icicle Creek, is doable. You, the children, Susan, and Hosea have taken the cabin, as it is too small to host anyone else. Dutch insisted on taking the upstairs, but Annabelle wouldn’t have it, insisting that the elders and the children come first. When he argued that Susan wasn't that old, Annabelle retorted that she could be of help to you when it came to the children. This infuriated him, and so he has taken off again. You’re unsure as to when he will be back and while Annabelle doesn’t ask, you know that she still worries for him.

Nobody says anything, but you all know that things are shifting at camp. Tensions weave through the cold air like frost, and you feel them prickling at the back of your neck as you go about your daily tasks. The silent shifting allegiances and whispered opinions hang heavy around the fire at night. You keep close to Hosea; his steady presence is a calming force in the unpredictable whirlwind that is your life now. Occasionally, you catch Hosea glancing at you, his eyes full of an old wisdom that seems to weigh heavily on him these past few days. You wonder if he senses the storm brewing just beyond the horizon, not of snow, but of steel and gunpowder.

You’ve been keeping Alice in her wrap lately as you help Pearson cook and keep the cabin clean. You like to have your hands free and can rest easy knowing that she’s still warm when she’s bound close to you.

You wish that you could make a cake. Or a pie. Or something for your son. Today is his birthday and you have nothing to give.

Isaac has grown so fast, sprouting up like the wildflowers you used to pick back when the land around was more forgiving and less fraught with danger. Five years old today, and his eyes sparkle with the same mischievous light as Arthur's, yet there's a gentleness in him, perhaps from you, that softens his features in a way that makes your heart ache with love and fear. You want to keep him safe, shield him from the harsh realities of the world you all now inhabit, but you know it's a wishful thought. Life out here doesn’t allow for innocence to remain untouched for long.

“Girl,” Susan’s voice interrupts your thoughts. From the table, as you’ve been cutting some deer meat, you look up to see Susan enter the cabin with a basket. “Turns out there’s a root cellar just below the barn. Found some root vegetables and jars of peaches.”

Your heart lifts a little at the sight of the provisions. "Thank you, Susan," you say, genuine relief coloring your voice. Peaches are Isaac's favorite, and though they might be preserved, they will still make his day special.

Susan nods and sets the basket on the table, her face stern but her eyes soft. “How’re you doin’?”

You sigh, feeling yourself let out more than you usually do. “I’m just glad for four walls and a roof.” Then you lift your eyes to meet hers. “I’m sorry you’re in the loft with Hosea.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t trouble yourself, girl. It ain’t the first time and it won’t be the last. I'm used to snoring and any loud noise.”

“Don’t you get tired of it?” you find yourself asking. “I’ve only been in this for a few months, and I ache and pray for a life different than this.”

Susan gives a rueful smile and leans against the wooden table, the lines on her face telling stories of her own long journey. “Every day,” she admits, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “But then I remember the alternative is far worse out there for folks like us. We’ve got to stick together, find freedom, that’s livin’ to me.”

Freedom. There it is again. Dutch and his fancy words and promises. You grip the handle of your knife tightly, trying to take deep breaths. “I just want something better for my children.”

Susan clicks her tongue. “Well, this is the lot you got. Best to make the most of it.” She readjusts the scarf around her head and turns to walk back out of the cabin. “Holler when the food’s ready.”

On her way out, the door swings open, and Arthur nearly slams into her. “Hell, sorry, Ms. Grimshaw!”

Susan lets out a sharp huff. “Ain’t you gonna watch where you’re goin’? Good grief, Arthur, you’re like a bull in a china shop.” With that, she storms off, leaving Arthur standing in the doorway, a sheepish look on his face.

Arthur steps inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the small cabin before landing on you and the nearly prepared meal. “Smells good in here,” he comments, trying to remain casual, but you can see the sparkle in his eyes. He clearly had something to tell you when he came bolting in here, and now he hesitates, as if weighing how much to share. "How’re you doin’?" he finally asks, his voice higher than usual.

You shrug, setting the knife down and wiping your hands on your apron. "Fine.” You begin to pick up the cutting board and go to the stew pot.

He begins to look around and his brow pinches. “Where’re the children?”

“With Annabelle. She’s giving Alice some social interaction while I cook dinner. She can’t be attached to me all the time.”

Arthur takes a deep breath, leaning against the nearest wall. “Right.” A silence falls between you and he watches as you turn your back and scrape the scraps of meat into the pot, hearing the soft sizzle as they fall in with the already sautéed vegetables.

The glow of the fire casts a warm light against your skin, and as you bend down to hang the pot back above the fire, Arthur can’t help but admire the scene. It's a little piece of domesticity, something that he’s always wanted deep down.

How did you manage it? He hopes to God that you have people to be there for you. How did you manage to explain how a widow got pregnant a second time? He wishes that he could have seen you pregnant with Alice, all round and soft and ruddy-cheeked. He remembers how you were when you carried Isaac, and he always worried for you when he was gone. You were so pathetic and sweet, your eyes sparkling as you took his hand to place it on your belly.

There was something about you, carrying his child, that frustrated him. It was an odd feeling, and he had to keep himself at arm’s length, lest he say or do something he’d regret. You were beautiful to him, desirable, and he was afraid of it. He was afraid of the heat in his abdomen, the cotton in his throat. How his heart would not stop pounding…

On second thought, maybe it is best he didn’t see you pregnant again.

Realizing that he’s letting himself get distracted, he remembers why he came in here and he clears his throat. “I figured out a present for Isaac.”

You rise to a standing position and stare at him with inquisitiveness. “Oh?”

He smiles, allowing himself the excitement, and he comes near you, reaching into his satchel. “I got him this.” And out of his satchel comes a small journal. “I know he can’t write much right now, but I don’t always use my journal for writin’ anyways.”

You feel your shoulders slump. You’ve been slacking on your lessons with Isaac. When living in Aspen’s Way, it was a regular routine to sit at the table and have him read or write phrases for you. You’ve even kept some of his writings in your own journal, but you haven’t opened it in months. Maybe when things have calmed down, and you aren’t too busy, you can pick up where you left off.

You look down at the small, fabric-covered journal. All blue and hard-backed. It is very pretty, not something cheaply made.

But you know Arthur’s broke. And so are you.

You pause after washing your hands in a nearby basin to look up at him. “Where did you get it?”

He blinks. “At the store. In the nearest town.”

“But you don’t have any money.”

Arthur’s brow pinches and he tucks the journal back in his satchel. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean. I know you’d lose your mind if I stole it.”

You weren’t about to accuse him of theft, but his defensive tone makes you pause. You take a step closer, lowering your voice to a whisper. "Then how, Arthur? How did you manage it?" The warmth from the hearth flickers across your face, reflecting the nervous flicker in your eyes.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable under your gaze. He’s afraid to tell you about the money that he found under the very floorboards you’re standing on, lest someone hear and repeat it back to Dutch. Things are changing, and anyone desperate to remain on Dutch’s good side would be quick to reveal such information. Arthur just needs more money. Just a little more, and he can get you and the children out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Arthur—”

“Look, it ain’t for you to worry about. I didn’t steal or nothin’. I came by the journal good and honest. Okay?”

You study him for a moment, the soft expression in his eyes, the pinched brow. You decide to trust him. “Okay.”

He nods, then goes back into his satchel. “And…I got this for you.” He grabs your hand and places a small paper bag in your palm. Curious, you open it and find small, peppermint candies. “They didn’t have jellybeans. You like jellybeans, right?”

Your breath catches slightly at the sight of them. They’re not much, but in these lean times, even a small peppermint candy feels like a luxury. You look up at Arthur with a mix of gratitude and bewilderment.

“Why did you get these, Arthur?” you ask softly, your voice barely above the crackling of the fire. “You didn’t have to…”

He shrugs. “I wanted to. I know you hardly think to treat yourself and you was always cravin’ sweets when you was…” His voice trails off and he takes a step back. “Anyway.”

You’re grateful for the gesture and indulge yourself by taking one out of the bag and plopping it in your mouth.

The cooling mint spreads through your mouth, a sharp contrast to the warm, dry air of the cabin. For a moment, your troubles seem to melt away just as the candy dissolves. You let out a small sigh and close your eyes, savoring the sweetness. When you open them again, Arthur is watching you with a softness in his gaze that you seldom see.

“It's good to see you smile, Eliza," he says softly.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, touched by his concern. "Thank you, Arthur," you murmur, stepping closer to him. "For these…for caring."

He looks away, uncomfortable with the emotion, but he nods silently, acknowledging your words. The air between you feels charged with an unspoken understanding. You watch as he busies himself with the satchel again, perhaps to hide his discomfort, or maybe to find something else to distract the both of you from the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, the door swings open, again, and Hosea steps inside. He’s covered in a light dusting of snow and before he can speak, he coughs harshly into his gloved hands. “That stew done, my dear?” When he lifts his head, he sees you and Arthur standing awkwardly apart and he tries to hide his grin. “I guess I should have asked at a different time?”

Arthur shakes his head, already making his way to the door. “No, it’s perfect timin’,” he says. “I need to get Boadicea in the barn.” And just like that, he slips out of the cabin, leaving you with Hosea and the stew pot.

Hosea closes the door behind him, shedding his coat and gloves, hanging them up with a meticulous care that's second nature after years on the road. "Well then," he begins, clearing his throat, "I reckon that I ought to warm my bones while that stew's cooking." He offers you a warm smile as he moves to the table, pulling out a chair and easing into it with a sigh. “It’s good to have warm shelter like this.”

You nod slowly as you grab a pail of water, your mind still on Arthur and your conversation. He immediately notices that your mind is elsewhere, for he smiles at you knowingly and leans back into his chair. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You chuckle and you go to pour the water into the pot, now that the meat has cooked long enough. “Do you even have that?” you chuckle as you take the wooden spoon and stir the stew a couple of times.

“Only figuratively, my dear,” Hosea chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He watches you stir the stew, his gaze thoughtful and kind. “You and Arthur get into a fight?”

You look up at him and give him a glare, your smile belying your slight agitation. “No, is that all you think we do?”

Hosea raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, his chuckle softening into a more serious tone. "Now, now, I didn't mean no harm by it. It's just that the both of you have a way of... how do I put it? Sparking off one another."

You sigh, resting a hand on your hip. “We’ve always made it a point to never argue in front of the children.” You look down. “But I guess we’ve forgotten everyone else.” You pause a moment, thinking about the times when you both had talked with raised voices, who all could have heard you. “But this was different. We weren’t arguing, we…we’re just trying to do something special for Isaac. It’s his fifth birthday.”

Hosea’s expression turns from jest to sober, his eyes widening and his lips parting. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head. “No.”

Hosea raises his hands in a celebratory gesture. “Well, we oughta do something about that! We can get everyone together and—”

You shake your head again, firmer this time. You were hoping for something more intimate, just your family, where it wouldn’t inconvenience anyone. “No, Hosea, don’t trouble yourself with—”

But he isn’t listening, for he rises from his chair quickly and reaches for his coat. “Let me go talk to the others, you keep working in that stew.”

“Hosea—!”

“Stew smells great!” he calls just as he closes the door behind him.

You let out a sharp huff as you stare down the door. You know you won’t be able to stop him, though you can’t change the pit in your stomach. You don’t want to be a burden, and you fear how Dutch will react should he come back to camp to find everyone celebrating one of the very people he finds annoying. Dutch has rarely interacted with Isaac, and while you’re thankful, it bothers you that the poor boy isn’t acknowledged. You just want Isaac to never feel neglect or rejection, not as long as you’re alive.

You return to the stew pot and stir it a few times. If anything, you won’t let the gang go hungry.

***

“Go on,” Arthur coaxes. “Try it on.”

Annabelle slips her arms in the sleeves and after situating it across her shoulders, she begins to button up her new coat. Isaac watches on with interest as he holds baby Alice in his lap, his hands firmly holding her against his chest so she doesn’t fall.

The coat fits Annabelle perfectly, warming her slender form and setting off her green eyes with its deep navy hue. She turns up the collar, letting it rest against her cheeks, and her face breaks into a broad smile. "Oh Arthur, it's perfect. Thank you!"

Arthur's eyes crinkle at the corners as he watches her, a sense of satisfaction filling his chest. It’s always meant something to be able to provide for his family, and the gang has been in great need for the past month or two. Now that he has some money in his pocket, he’s been making the effort to get at least one thing for every member. For Annabelle, it was to replace her old, worn-out coat.

“I’m glad you like it. This one seemed to be the warmest.”

“Anything without holes is the warmest, Arthur,” she answers, and Isaac lets out a chuckle. Though slightly humorous, the little boy doesn’t sense the sobriety in her jest.

Arthur can only nod his head. “I suppose you’re right.”

She eyes the wool and the breasted buttons, rubbing her fingers over them. “My husband got me a coat like this once,” she says reflectively, and a soft smile appears on her face. “I wore that thing until there was nothing but threads left.”

Annabelle rarely speaks of her late husband, and knowing of the tension between her and Dutch, Arthur begins to understand why her memories are more pleasant than the present. “Oh?”

She lifts her head to meet Arthur’s eyes and nods. “Yeah. Dutch has only ever gotten me jewelry or ivory combs.” Her smile falls. “While beautiful, it’s not very practical, is it?” Her hand goes to the top button of her coat, and she undoes it. Pulling her collar apart, her hand goes to the back of her neck and she takes off her necklace. Arthur watches as she holds out the golden chain with the jade stone pendant on its end, its shine catching the light of the fire. “Here. Give this to Eliza or sell it. Either way, it will do you more good than it does on my neck.”

Arthur swallows thickly. He remembers when Dutch gave it to her, after they robbed a train once near Mexico. A wealthy oil magnate’s wife wore it like a beacon, begging for it to be snatched. Dutch ripped it off of that woman’s neck like it was a piece of cheap twine, and strutted like a peacock when he gave it to his lover. Annabelle’s eyes sparkled, not having anything of such high value in all of her life. She’s worn it proudly for years since.

“What’ll Dutch say?” he asks quietly.

She pauses for a moment, eyeing the dangling, green teardrop as it sways in the air. “I love Dutch more than his anger for me.” And she pushes it towards Arthur, with a hidden sadness in her eyes. “Please. Take it.”

His eyes fall on the necklace and in his peripheral he sees his son looking up at him, expectantly. He isn’t sure what is the right answer in this situation. Does he accept the necklace? Sell it? He knows that if you ever learn where it came from, you’d refuse to wear it.

The necklace is worth a lot of money. That much closer to liberation.

Letting a few more seconds pass, Arthur finally takes the offered necklace. “Okay, Annabelle.”

She sighs, letting her shoulders relax. “Thank you.”

He lets the pendant rest in his palm for a moment before tucking it away in his satchel, his fingers grazing the cover of the blue journal. His eyes fall on his son and daughter, who have been so quiet and patient. He smiles at his boy reassuringly. “You’re doin’ good holdin’ her, son.”

Isaac’s lips then pull back into a smile and he looks down to kiss the top of his sister’s head. “Mommy says I’m her protector, Daddy.”

Arthur's chest tightens at the mention of you, a mixture of pride and sorrow swirling within him. He squats down beside Isaac, resting his hand on his son's shoulder, looking into those eyes so much like your own. "And she's right," he says softly. "You're doin' mighty fine at that, son." Arthur's gaze shifts to the bright-eyed infant in Isaac's arms, her tiny fist in her mouth as she gnaws on it contentedly. "You and Alice need each other, just as much as your mama needs both of you."

“Arthur!” the sudden call behind him causes him to stand straight up, turning around. It is Hosea, and he looks rather serious. “Send the boy to his mother.”

Arthur’s brow pinches in confusion, but trusting Hosea, he turns to his son and offers to take Alice from him. “Go on to Mama, son.”

Isaac hesitates for a brief moment, his young face etched with reluctance to leave his sister, but ultimately nods and lets Arthur take her. Once his lap is free, he slides off of Annabelle’s cot and walks to the barn doors, making his way toward the small cabin where you wait. His steps are slow, each one heavy with the weight of responsibility he feels even at such a young age.

Arthur watches him go, then turns back to Hosea. “What’s wrong?”

Hosea eyes the other members of the barn, his brow arching in his clever way. There is a tension in the air that is almost palpable, and Arthur can almost hear Annabelle’s heartbeat as she stands nearby.

Then, suddenly, a smile appears on Hosea’s face. “We got a party to plan.”

Arthur blinks, taken aback. “What?”

Hosea places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own son’s birthday?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, what are you doing standing here? Haven’t you ever had a party?”

This is quite the trick question. Hosea has known Arthur since he was about sixteen years old. Anytime before that he rarely had a birthday. The last one he remembers was when he was six years old, the same year his mother died. “No, not really,” he answers.

Hosea’s smile falters for just a moment, his eyes filled with a hidden sympathy as he realizes the ridiculousness of his question. “Well, then it’s high time you started. Life is worth celebrating, Arthur. Especially the legacy of a son.”

A legacy. What legacy? Of deadbeats? Of abusers? That’s the lot he had been given and he doesn’t want to leave that for his son. Arthur feels a weight heavier than the snow that falls outside at Hosea’s words, the need for escape that much greater.

He feels a hand squeeze his arm. “Let us help you make the day special,” Annabelle says softly. “We don’t have much, but at least the poor boy can feel loved on his birthday.”

There’s no use in arguing. Letting out a sigh, Arthur nods. “Alright.” Then he meets Hosea’s eyes. “I don’t suppose you already have some ideas?”

Hosea grins from ear to ear. “Son, you know me too well.”

***

You bring the wooden spoon to your mouth and get a quick taste of the stew. Could use some herbs, but you don’t really have that as an option. Otherwise, it’s palatable and if you get any complaints, you are more confident to throw hands, if needed.

This life has started to change you, roughen you, and while sometimes it can be a blessing, you are more afraid of losing yourself. While once appearing weak and helpless, there was something that you liked about it. You were invisible, unassuming, like a spotted deer hiding in the underbrush.

But that became an insult after that night when Willy called you a doe, so perhaps you ought not to be a prey animal anymore.

But what will it make you now?

You dip the spoon back in the pot and scooping up some more, you cup your hand underneath it as you bring it out and carry it over to your son. “Here, darling. Try this and let me know what you think.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Isaac takes the bite of stew that is offered him and he smacks his lips for a second or two. “It ain’t your dumplings, Mommy.”

You know. Chicken dumplings are his favorite. But you don’t have chicken and you don’t have flour. Just deer, carrots, and potatoes. Oh, and a couple of cans of peaches.

You manage a small smile, brushing a stray lock of chestnut hair from your forehead as you watch Isaac's honest reaction. "Well, we make do with what we got, sweetheart," you tell him, the maternal instinct to protect and provide for your children overriding the disappointment in your voice. You return to the stew pot and stir it absentmindedly a few times. “Why don’t you go ring the dinner bell?”

The dinner bell, being an old cowbell that Reverend Swanson found, is a crude but essential part of camp life now. Isaac nods obediently, his small frame disappearing out the door with the cowbell in hand. The clangs soon echo through the area, a signal that gathers everyone together like a family, however mismatched it might be.

But instead of the sound of many footfalls, there is a dead silence. You lift your head and look to the door just as Isaac steps back inside.

“Nobody’s coming,” he whines, his lips pulled into a frown.

You chortle. “They didn’t just disappear. Why don’t you ring the cowbell again?”

But Isaac insists that it will fall on deaf ears. “They won’t come, Mommy.”

Won’t come to dinner? You’re more inclined to think they’re just in the barn and can’t hear, but he did ring that bell pretty loud.

In a hasty motion, you hurriedly remove your apron, throw it on the table, and reach for your coat. “I say we figure out why the sudden hearing loss around here!” You take your shawl and wrap it around your head, tying a knot just under your chin. Smiling at your son, you look him over to make sure his coat is good and buttoned before taking his hand. “Let’s go, darling.”

And with that, you and Isaac step outside.

The first thing to greet you is the biting cold, the snowfall picking up. You don’t want to be searching around the farm forever, but you are determined to silence your son’s disappointment just as much as your curiosity.

The snow is deeper than it was a couple of hours ago and you glance down at your son’s boots. He will be growing out of them soon, and this thought nudges at your heart — another reminder of the relentless march of time and all that you need to provide.

You trudge together towards the barn, Isaac's small hand clasped tightly in yours. The snow crunches beneath your boots, and the wind howls around the wooden structures, making them creak ominously.

As you look around through squinted eyes, you see how barren everything is outside. You’d normally expect to see John guarding or Susan dragging someone to clear a better path to the cabin, but there isn’t even a sign of life.

Where is everyone?

You can’t let yourself panic, at least not yet. You need to check every place that at least one of them can be found. The barn, being the largest, is the obvious choice to start. You grip your son’s hand tighter as you trudge through the snow and he tries his best to keep up with you.

The two of you reach the barn, its large doors looming ominously in the dim light. You push against one, the old wood groaning under your effort as it swings open. The inside is dark and still, smelling of hay and horse. You hesitate at the threshold, peering into the shadows.

"Hello?" your voice echoes, and your eyes try to adjust to the darkness. Why is it dark? Usually, the lanterns are lit and the barn is full of noise and conversation.

That’s when you hear a whisper. “Now…!”

The space immediately becomes lit as the lanterns are uncovered and hung. Looking at the missing gang members, your mouth is agape as you back up toward the doors, holding your boy close.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ISAAC…!!” most shout in unison.

John elbows Bill firmly in the arm and he grunts. “Uh, yeah, happy birthday, kid.” And then he grumbles something as he turns to leave the other end of the barn.

The sudden cheerfulness slices through the tense air, and your heart, which had been clenched tight with worry, begins to relax. Isaac’s face lights up with a pure, unguarded joy as he takes in the scene before him—straw bales arranged into makeshift seats, a small table laden with modest treats, and everyone, sans Dutch and Bill, gathered around to celebrate.

Your attention falls on Hosea as he approaches you with a cheeky grin. “All we are missing now is that stew!”

You grin and shake your head. “You scheming fox.”

He cackles loudly. “You didn’t think that we'd let today pass without a celebration, did you? Isaac deserves a bit of happiness, especially today.”

Isaac, still clutched in your arms, wriggles free and dashes towards the table, his laughter mingling with the sounds of the gang's playful banter. You watch him, your heart swelling with love and relief, the tension draining from your shoulders as you realize the danger was imagined, a fabrication of your own fears. Arthur catches your eye from across the barn, his smile reserved yet genuine, a silent acknowledgment of the day's importance not just to Isaac but to you as well.

“I’ll get that stew.” You say as you begin to back away.”

“By yourself?” Hosea asks and he shakes his head. “Nonsense. Have Arthur go with you.”

And hearing his name, he walks over and coughs into a closed fist. “Shoah.”

Hosea grins, happy with the assignment. “Good. We will keep the boy entertained until you return.”

Arthur nods, his expression hardening slightly as he readies himself to accompany you. The warmth of the barn, filled with laughter and flickering lantern lights, feels like a sanctuary compared to the cold uncertainty outside. But you aren’t one to quit so easily. Many times you’ve had to trudge through deep snow to milk the cow or collect eggs. It was your way of life.

You meet Arthur’s eyes, feeling slightly awkward, as he reaches an arm over you to push the barn door open. You step out first and are greeted by the setting sun, it’s red orb peeking through the tall trees. There may not be as much snow as in Idaho, but it certainly is cold. You pull up your coat collar and step forward, hearing Arthur’s heavy footfalls behind you.

He coughs again and clears his throat.

“You alright?” you ask without looking back.

“Ahem. Yeah. Just…got this frog in my throat or somethin’.”

“Drinking warm water should help with that,” you answer.

Arthur chuckles, a low rumbling sound that seems to stir the chilled air between you. "I had a feelin’ you would have a suggestion. Always findin’ answers before there’s ever a problem," he says, his voice carrying a hint of jest and a trace of something warmer, something left unsaid.

You glance over your shoulder at him and catch a twinkling gleam in his eyes that makes you feel inexplicably comforted despite the cold. "Well, someone has to," you reply, managing a slight smile. The silence that follows isn't awkward but filled with a shared understanding, a connection forged over years and trials.

The path to the Cabin is short but it feels longer somehow, just like when you and Isaac were heading to the barn. Is it the biting cold? Or something within your own perception? You don’t know, but when you finally reach the cabin you exhale a puff of air you didn’t realize you were holding.

Arthur quickens his steps to reach the door before you and opens it.

“Thank you,” you murmur and you quickly get inside so he can close it quickly to keep the warmth in.

As your eyes adjust to the space, your eyes fall on the pot still hanging above the fire. You begin to walk over and grab the metal hook that allows you to lift it.

“What’re you doin’?” Arthur asks behind you.

“What does it look like?” you chortle.

“That fire is still burnin’ hot. Let me get it so you don’t burn yourself.”

You look over your shoulder and look at him unamused. “Arthur. I’ve been doing this for the past five years. If I let the fear of being burned stop me, we’d all be starving.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows and chuffs a soft laugh, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, alright," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "You win, Eliza. Just tryin' to look out for you is all."

You nod and smile, grasping the hook, and returning to your task, you work it under the metal handle of the pot. You begin to lift it and soon realize that the full stew pot is much heavier than you anticipated. But not willing to let your pride be damaged, you keep trying to lift it with the awkward leverage you have.

As you concentrate on the task at hand, your fingers deftly maneuver the pot's handle onto the hook. But suddenly, just when you think you've got it secure, it starts to slip off. Panic rises in your chest and your heart races as you struggle to regain control. “Oh…!”

Just before disaster strikes, you feel a warm body press against your back and strong arms wrap around your own. Arthur’s grip on the metal hook is firm and steadying, and together you manage to save the pot from crashing to the floor. A few drops of broth escape, but it is a small price to pay for avoiding a disaster. Relief floods through you as you turn to thank your savior with a grateful smile and nod of appreciation.

“See? Havin’ some help ain’t so bad,” Arthur says humorously.

You roll your eyes, but let a smile appear on your lips. “Oh, be quiet.”

Arthur’s chuckle fills the small cabin as he steps back, giving you space once more. The fire crackles and pops, sending sparks dancing up the chimney, their brief lives casting flickering shadows across his face. He watches you with those eyes full of unspoken words, a half-smirk lingering on his lips. “You want some help carryin’ it over?”

You feel the weight of the pot in your hands, the handle digging into your curled fingers. “Well…” you sigh. “Maybe I could use just a little help.”

Arthur’s smile broadens and stepping closer to you, his left hand grips the handle, his hand touching yours.

Together, you lift the heavy pot and carefully carry it across the room towards the front door. The muscles in Arthur's arms flex under the strain, a reminder of the many hardships he has endured and survived. His presence, so strong and reassuring, fills the small space with a sense of awkwardness, the same that you felt when you first met, when he rescued you and walked you home.

You feel that way now. Simple, delicate, a damsel in distress.

It was how you once were. You don’t look back at your past self with regret, or even empathy, but reflection. Oh, how you’ve changed.

And Arthur knows it. He can’t help but think back on those days, when you were so shy and quiet. You’re more outspoken now, the way you handled Uncle and his teasing. You were handling it on your own, and lately, Arthur has begun to wonder if you really need him. The children do, sure, but do you?

Stepping out of the cabin, you both face the cold air again. You take a deep breath, as a breeze flushes through your nostrils and you tuck your head down to hide your nose and mouth in the collar of your coat.

“Doin’ okay?” Arthur asks before he starts to cough again.

“I should be asking you that,” you answer back. “You need to get out of the cold.”

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’.” He looks ahead, not meeting your eyes. “I’m fine.”

Arthur is rarely ever sick, at least when he’s been around you. Even so, you had always made sure he was comfortable and fed when he came to Aspen’s Way and now, since being in the gang, you’ve hardly ever put a thought into his well-being.

You feel guilty. Absolutely horrible. Just because circumstances have changed, that shouldn’t mean that you change your method of care.

You keep looking at him, hoping that he’ll look your way. He doesn’t, stubborn as ever. You know he’s avoiding your gaze.

“Arthur…”

“I’m alright. Let’s just…get this stew in the barn. Everyone is waitin’.”

You continue toward the barn, the journey weighted down by a heavy silence that stretches between you like a taut rope. The crips night air bites into your skin, but it’s the weight of unspoken worries that really chills you to the bone. Arthur’s persistent cough and the slight hunch of his shoulders tell you more than he wants to let on. Once you get this stew on the table, you’re going to see if you can do something about his cough.

Arthur extends his arm to pull back the barn door and you both maneuver the pot as you step inside. The warmth greets you and you feel your skin tingle. There is also the sound of a banjo playing, and you spot Uncle sitting on a barrel, playing a jovial tune. Reverend Swanson is nowhere to be seen.

Just beyond the table, Hosea, Pearson, Susan, and Isaac are dancing in a circle, hand in hand, and laughter swirling between them. John watches from the table, his hand reluctantly tapping along to the beat of Uncle’s song. Reverend Swanson and Strauss are nowhere to be seen.

You haven’t realized that Arthur has taken the pot from you and has made his way over to the table. Your attention is solely focused on your son. The look on his face, his eyes squinting too hard on account of his joy bursting at the seams.

Annabelle, with Alice in her arms, strides on over to you, a soft expression on her face. “It’s good to hear the boy laugh.” You turn to look at her and see your smiling babe. She knows who her mother is and wiggles her body as she attempts to flap her arms. You grin and gasp playfully, offering to take her. Annabelle obliges and bringing Alice close, you plant multiple kisses on her cheeks. “And it’s good to see you smile.”

You meet Annabelle’s eyes as you rest your baby against your torso, supporting her back as she sits against your folded arm. “Have I been that bad?”

Annabelle smiles empathetically, tilting her head just a bit. “It’s understandable, the way things have been…what you’ve been through.”

She only means recently, but little does she know. You look away back to your son and see his shining face. “What matters is that he’s happy.”

“Ain’t that tiring?”

You look back at her again, pulling your hair out of Alice’s mouth. She’ll grab anything near her to explore with her senses, one of them being your hair. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s honorable to think of others, but when you have nothing left, then you have nothing to give at all.”

You look back at the table and see Arthur’s now sitting there, with his elbows propped on the surface and his head supported in his hands. The longer you look at him, the more exhausted he is.

You have the children. He has everyone relying on him. How blind have you been to his cause? Badgering him about leaving, always wondering when your break will be. You are beginning to understand that it isn’t a decision made easily, especially when more people seem to be joining you. Two more mouths, albeit with little skills to offer, have hardly contributed anything but amusement and conversation.

You see John saying something to him, to which the fatigued outlaw nods his head. You aren’t sure what they’re discussing, and while curious, your main thought is to get these people fed.

Glancing at Alice, you adjust the bonnet on her head. “Help me serve these party guests?”

Annabelle sighs. She’ll continue to try and convince you to slow down, but it looks like it will be another day. “Of course, Eliza.”

With a baby in your arms, you and Annabelle command the space, serving bowls of fresh, hot venison stew. It is but mere seconds when the bowls are in their hands that they begin to chow down, ravenous and aching for warmth in their bellies.

You finally serve yourself and still keeping Alice in your arms, you set her down in your lap as you sit at one of the corners of the table and begin to eat the stew. You have mostly broth and vegetables, as you got the bottom of the pot, but it is still warm as it settles in your stomach. Alice watches you curiously, her dusky blue eyes moving as you bring the spoon to your mouth. You haven’t quite started her on solids, yet. Almost nervous that there won’t be enough food to go around once she starts eating something other than the milk you provide for her. Perhaps, now that her teeth are starting to come in, you can acquire some cheesecloth and introduce foods slowly, as you did with Isaac.

The room is filled with the sound of spoons scraping against bowls and the low murmur of voices, a symphony of survival that you’ve come to know well. You watch Arthur from across the table, his eyes occasionally lifting to meet yours before they flicker away, clouded with worries you can only guess at. Your son sits between Hosea and John, and he calmly observes the two as they converse, or don’t, with the others. Some hard tack is passed around to dip in their bowls to soften the hard biscuits, and the conversations simmer down as they gnaw on them.

And after a few more minutes, Hosea breaks the silence. “Alright! It’s time for the birthday boy to open his presents!”

Isaac’s eyes brighten, full of surprise and wonder. “Presents?”

Hosea shrugs. “Well…they aren’t exactly wrapped.” In a quick motion, he bends down and picks Isaac up playfully, letting out a soft grunt. “What say we have a look?”

Isaac doesn’t hesitate to nod his head. “Okay…!”

Hosea grins and walks to the barrel that Uncle had been sitting on and sets him down. “Now, you sit here, and we’ll bring the presents to you!”

Isaac isn’t in the mood to argue, his brown eyes gleaming with excitement. “Okay…!”

Hosea turns to the gathering. “Well, everyone? Let’s present our gifts to the young prince, shall we?”

You watch as the gang reaches into their pockets, bags, and under the caps of their hats for hidden gifts. You feel somewhat awkward, considering that all you were able to whip up was some canned peaches that Susan found. Had you been less forgetful, you would have had time to get him a pair of drawing pencils or something.

“I think the queen should stand next to her son, to help him out, yes?” Hosea chuckles, holding out a hand towards you.

You shift on your feet awkwardly. “Oh.” After readjusting Alice in your arms you weave between Pearson and Susan to reach your son, who kicks out his legs alternately as he remains seated on the barrel.

“Come stand by me, Mommy!”

As you turn around and stand by your son, you see the line forming, all eager to give the boy their gift.

Hosea is the first in line, holding his gift behind him, and he steps forward. “So, I hear you like reading?”

Isaac shrugs bashfully. “Not right now.”

Hosea chuckles. “I know you’ve been very busy, but I think a good story can help with that.” Bringing his gift forward, you see that it is a book. It is slightly worn, the hard cover’s fabric fraying on the corners. “It’s Black Beauty . Have you heard of it?”

Isaac thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No.”

Hosea looks down at the book in his hands, and he runs his hand over the cover. “This book belonged to someone most precious to me. She loved this story. It’s about a horse. Some parts are sad, but beautiful…” He looks up to meet Isaac’s eyes and you see how they glisten in the lantern light. “Very beautiful.” He holds out the book to your son, who gratefully takes it. “Have your mother read it to you,” he says softly after clearing his throat.

Isaac clutches the book to his chest, a small smile breaking through his initial shyness. "Thank you, Mr. Hosea," he murmurs, eyes wide with the promise of a new story to explore. Next in line is Annabelle, who approaches with a bashful step and clasped hands. “Aunt Annie!”

She smiles and as the book remains in his lap, she sets her gift on top of it. It is a small figurine, a bronze horse, that stands on two legs and has tiny gemstones for the eyes. “To go with your book.”

Not a practical gift, but Isaac has never received anything like this before. It is beautiful, clearly a treasure. You look at Annabelle as she smiles at your son. Surely, this gift meant something to her. It’s too valuable of a gift to give to a five-year-old boy.

Isaac's eyes light up in wonder as he picks for the figurine, turning it over in his small hands, marveling at the way the lantern light catches on the gemstones, making them sparkle like tiny stars. "It's pretty, Aunt Annie," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

Annabelle takes a gentle step back, her eyes on the copper horse. “Happy birthday, Isaac.”

“What do you say, Isaac?” you prompt. You haven’t raised your boy to not have manners.

Isaac looks up from the shimmering horse and directly at Annabelle, his small face serious with the gravity of receiving such a gift. "Thank you, Aunt Annie," he says, his voice firm and clear in the cozy warmth of the cabin. "I love you."

Annabelle's smile widens, her eyes soft and nearly glistening. Without missing a beat, she goes in for a hug, wrapping the small boy in her arms, and kissing his face with soft pecks. “I love you too, you sweet boy.”

As the warm moment unfolds, you catch Arthur's gaze from across the room. He's leaning against a wooden beam, arms crossed, his eyes a mixture of pride and something more solemn, unreadable. His presence has grown so constant now, yet you still feel a shiver whenever your eyes meet.

Annabelle finally steps away and lets the next person step forward.

Pearson gives the boy a bar of dark chocolate, claiming that it was made from chocolate from an island he had been to once. You aren’t sure if you believe it or not, but you let it slide. Let Isaac believe in far-off places. Hopefully, he can see it all one day.

Susan gives him her dominoes game set. While the whole gang has used it for times of fun and play, she designates him as the new owner of the set and the new rule that if he ever wants to play, she will play with him, no questions asked. Now, for Susan to even grant such an honor, is the true gift.

Now, finally, it is John’s turn. You’re surprised he has a gift. Not that you would ever expect anyone to procure anything, given the circumstances, but the fact that he stands before the boy, with a wrapped bundle in his hands, still leaves you speechless.

John stands uneasy, this being the closest he’s ever been to the boy, and he clears his throat. “Hey, kid, erm…” He looks down at the bundle in his hands, trying to find the words to say. He seems to weigh the object, as though assessing whether or not his gift idea was even a good one. He clears his throat again. “I figured you could grow into these…” He begins to unwrap the cloth and Isaac leans forward to get a better look. When the cloth is pulled away, you nearly gasp at the sight of a pair of spurs.

They aren’t new, by any means, but they’ve been taken care of. The metal gleams under the low light of the lanterns, and even in their used condition, they hold a certain charm. Isaac’s eyes grow wide with wonder and excitement; clearly, he understands the implication of such a gift—these are tools of a cowboy, symbols of a life riding horses and taming the wild.

“Oooo…!” Isaac oggles, his hands still holding onto his other gifts, but visibly itching to reach out and touch the shiny spurs.

Arthur steps forward, his face breaking into a rare smile as he watches his son's delight. “Looks like you’re ready to ride with the big boahs now, son,” he says, his voice thick with pride.

Isaac nods vigorously, his excitement barely containable. “Let me put ‘em on…!” he giggles and he tries to hold out the gifts towards you. “Mommy? Help?”

You move to readjust Alice in your arms but Arthur steps forward, taking the gifts from the boy. “Here, partner. But I think they’re too big for you yet, son.”

Isaac frowns as he eyes the spurs still in John’s hands. “Not too big, huh?”

John actually cracks a smile. “You will need to grow into ‘em, kid.”

Isaac's face brightens once more, accepting the challenge as if it were a promise of adventures to come. He takes the spurs from John and holds them up against his tiny boots, his imagination clearly picturing himself riding alongside the men he admires. “I will! I’ll grow so tall and strong like Daddy!”

The room fills with a soft, warm laughter at Isaac’s joy and Arthur feels grateful that he can see his son so happy. Times have been hard, and it is easy to ignore the opportunity to allow certain joys to occupy his life. He’s glad that Hosea had this idea and encouraged him to do this, though spur of the moment, it was.

He has his gift to give now. Though it may not compete with the shiny spurs, it still may put a smile on Isaac’s face. He turns to set the gifts on the table and reaches into his satchel. He reinserts himself into the gathering and Uncle notices him and quickly backs away. The laughter and conversation die down and all eyes fall on the rugged outlaw.

Hosea grins. “Ah! Saved the best for last!”

Arthur chuckles. “I ain’t shoah about that…” He goes to his son, and holds out the journal. “It’s about time you started puttin’ all that learnin’ to practice, partner.”

Isaac’s eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as he takes the journal, his fingers brushing against the fabric cover. He flips it open, his small face scrunched in concentration, then looks up at Arthur with a questioning gaze. "What do I write, Daddy?"

Arthur picks him up, holding him close, and points to his son’s chest. “Everythin’ that comes from here, son. Thoughts, dreams, what you did that day. Anythin’ you want.” He watches the interest in his son’s eyes and can’t help but smile. “You can draw too, if you want.”

Isaac gasps. “Like you, Daddy?”

“Why, shoah!” Arthur nods.

“And draw Mommy like you do?”

Arthur swallows and hears John chuckle behind him. He doesn’t want everyone to know what he does. Drawing you and his children is of a personal nature and he tries to play it off with a chuckle of his own. "Yes, boah. You can draw your mama, your sister, anythin’ that catches your eye." Arthur places Isaac down and ruffles his hair, his heart swelling with pride at the spark of creativity he sees lighting up his son's eyes. “I’ll give you one of my pencils, so you can have somethin’ to use for now.”

Isaac giggles happily. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Uncle picks up his banjo again. “Well, let’s warm up our bones with good dancin’!”

The air fills with the twang of Uncle's banjo, the rhythmic clap of hands, and the soft shuffle of boots on the dirt floor. You watch as you stand to the side, your daughter Alice nestled against your hip, her small hand gripping yours tightly. The lanterns swing gently overhead, casting moving shadows that dance just like the group before you.

Arthur comes to stand beside you, grinning at his daughter. “You like the music, little lady?”

She squeals happily, reaching out to him. As natural as it can be, you hand Alice over to him and he holds her against his chest. She instantly goes for his scruff, letting her little fingers dig into his whiskers, exploring his face with her sense of touch.

“You ever dance, Arthur?” you ask him.

He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, I ain’t much of a dancer.”

“We’ve never really danced together, have we?”

He turns to meet your eyes. “No, I don’t think we ever have.”

You look towards the group as they dance with your son, letting him be included and loved. You’re warmed by the scene, relieved that your son is having a good birthday. If anything good can come out of being in a gang, it is being surrounded by people who care about your children. “I guess not.”

Whoosh…!

The barn door swings open, letting in a gust of wind. The lanterns swing on their hooks, the flames dancing as they’re threatened to be squelched. The music instantly stops and those dancing quickly halt and turn to face the visitor.

The figure at the entrance steps in, closing the barn door firmly behind them.

Then, a familiar voice speaks into the barn. “Well…! Was wonderin’ where everyone had gone. Didn’t know we were havin’ a party.”

It is Dutch. And you know his inquisitiveness isn’t just out of curiosity. It is like a lion finding its prey and cornering it in a trap.

You instantly feel your body grow tense and you reach out towards Isaac. “Darling, come here.”

Isaac, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere, scurries over to you. His eyes are wide, a mirror of your own apprehension. As he reaches you, you pull him close, feeling his small body firm against yours.

Arthur tightens his hold on Alice, who seems oblivious to the tension, still entertained by her father’s beard. “Buh-buh…” she babbles.

Hosea, eager to ease the tension, steps toward his longtime friend. “Dutch! We would have told you, but you had already gone.” He looks back at Isaac and smiles at him. “The young prince is turning five today.”

Dutch steps into the light. His cheeks are red from the cold, but there is a fire behind his eyes. He juts his chin upward, eyeing the gathering who has been partying without him. “Is he now?” And then his eyes fall on the gifts resting on the table. The food is already eaten, the few treats begging to be devoured. “It’s a king’s feast, alright.”

Hosea can sense where this is going and he takes another step forward. “We merely scrounged up what we could for the boy—”

Dutch already going to the table, he picks up the only item of any value—the bronze horse. “Seems you were all doin’ more than scrounging.” His eyes lift to Annabelle, who remains where she stands. “For a gang that is scraping the bottom of the barrel, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been left out of the windfall here.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, like the storm clouds that threaten on the horizon. You feel Isaac lean back into you, the intimidation clearly working. Arthur turns to you, offering back your daughter and you take her into your arms. After patting your back once, he steps forward, his footfalls the only sound heard in the barn against the howling winds outside.

“We ain’t holdin’ out on you, Dutch. Or anyone. These things ain’t nothin’ but simple gifts—”

“That new coat.” Dutch says suddenly, pointing a finger at Annabelle. “How did she come by that then, hm?”

Arthur isn’t about to be told that he can’t help people. Can’t help his gang. Can’t help the people that need food and clothes. “She came by it the way she should have gotten it months ago.” His gaze is steady, unwavering as he stands in defense of not just Annabelle, but his values.

Dutch’s eyes narrow, his gaze piercing. “You sayin’ that the money came out of thin air? That you spoke that coat into existence, like God?!”

You don’t want your children to see this. You reach to take Isaac’s hand. “Get your coat on, darling. We’re heading back to the cabin.”

Arthur doesn’t flinch at Dutch’s words. “At least God seems to care more in them stories the reverend reads than how you’re supposed to care about us! Quit choosin’ my son’s happiness for your excuses, Dutch! He’s just a boah!”

Arthur's voice cracks the solemn air, high and hard, like a whip snap against Dutch's accusations. You feel your heart thunder in your chest, every beat echoing Arthur's protective stance. Isaac tugs on your dress, his little face upturned to you, confusion written all over it. "Mommy, we going now?”

You look down at him and quickly nod. “Yes, put on your coat.”

Just as you look back, Dutch points a firm finger at Arthur’s chest, his voice a low growl. “You ain’t gonna get special treatment in this gang, Arthur. You ain’t gonna be pullin’ stunts like this thinkin’ this redeems you…”

Dutch's words hang heavy in the dusty air of the barn, each syllable laden with a threat. Arthur stands his ground, his jaw set firm, eyes blazing with a fire that could melt steel. He steps closer to Dutch, reducing the space between them, his voice low but fierce. "There ain't no redemption I'm seekin'. I'm simply tryin' to do right by those who can’t do for themselves. If that's a crime, then I reckon you might as well hang me now."

Your breath catches in your throat as the tension twists tighter, like a rope about to snap. Dutch's face darkens. “You think that low of me, son? I ain’t the people we’re runnin’ from.”

“Runnin’? I thought we was standin' for something more than just dodgin' the law!” Arthur's retort slices through the silence that had momentarily settled over the group, and the men around shift uncomfortably on their feet. You feel Alice’s small fingers tug your hair, almost trying to get your attention.

Susan sees your struggle and comes close to help escort you out. “I think it’s gettin’ late. Your little ones must be exhausted.”

You nod and following her prompting, you let her lead you towards the barn door. Your eyes don’t leave Arthur as the tense argument ensues.

“Don’t you talk to Dutch like that!” Bill barks. “He raised you!”

“I ain’t talkin’ to you, you sack of—” And suddenly, Arthur begins to cough. Hard.

The cough racks his body so severely that he has to clutch at a nearby post for support. His face turns a frightening shade of red, and you feel a pang of fear strike your heart. The argument, the tension, all fade into background noise as your focus narrows down to Arthur, struggling for breath.

You stop in your tracks, fighting against Susan’s grip. “Arthur—?”

“Susan—” he coughs as he swings his arm in front of himself, waving you off. “Get ‘em outta here…”

And just as you want to protest, Susan pushes you toward the door. “Let’s go, girl.”

Outside, the cold wind hits your face, a sharp contrast to the stifling tension inside the barn. You clutch Alice tighter to your side, her small body trembling either from cold or fear, perhaps both. Isaac tugs at your other hand, his young eyes wide and scared. "Mommy, is Daddy gonna be okay?”

You don’t know how to answer, all you can do is try to conceal the worry on your face. “Let’s get you in bed and I will check on him, alright?”

He doesn’t look satisfied but doesn’t protest. “Okay, Mommy.”

Once you reach the cabin, Susan makes sure that you reach the steps. You all get inside and she closes the door firmly behind you. “You get your babies in bed,” Susan sighs. “I’ll get the fire goin’. Should have known it would die out.”

But you are feeling agitated by the nonchalance of her actions. Is she really going to act like this? After leaving in the middle of that? Arthur isn’t well. He’s being interrogated by Dutch. And here you are, helpless.

“Susan—”

“Go on…!” she orders and gets on her knees in front of the hearth.

You bite your lip and rush the children to bed in the other room. Isaac sleeps with you, and Alice in her crib. Isaac clings to the wool blankets, his eyes still wide with questions and fear. Alice is quieter, her small fingers tangled in your hair as you try to lay her down gently.

After ensuring they are settled, you turn back to the main room of the cabin, to find Susan preparing to leave.

“Susan…!”

She whips around quickly. “Arthur can handle himself. He’d be more upset if you were still in there.”

“But I can’t just—”

“You can. And you will.” After a second, her eyes soften. “Please, hon. Get some rest. This ain’t the first time they’ve fought, and it won’t be the last. I’ll have Arthur come see you in the morning.”

You nod, hesitant, the fear gnawing at your insides like a hungry dog. Watching Susan disappear into the darkness outside, your heart pounds against your rib cage, each beat echoing Arthur’s name. You close the door behind her and lean against it, closing your eyes for just a moment, soaking in the silence of your questions and your anxieties.

What has become of you?

And why do you suddenly feel the weakest you’ve ever been?

Thank you for reading! Your feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

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