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yaut-jaknowit · 2 days ago

Note

Y'know what? I think it'd be funny as hell if a human farmer (y/n) befriended a xenomorph. And it acts like a cute, drooling, ..alien dog. And their male Yautja parter tolerates the Xeno while in front or near his human mate. But when y/n disappears. They both are just at each other's throats?

If that's okay, also I love your writing! And I cannot wait to see more! And I hope you have a lovely day/night

Lost Dog

Character: Con'tei (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader with Xeno

Word Count: 1784

Summary: As a farmer on a planet not many know, you live your life contently. Waking up early to go out into the fields and work. It's just yourself and your mate, Con'tei. Until a special alien shows up and worms its way into your soft heart instantly.

Author Note: This is such a funny idea.

Masterlist

Ao3

Ever since that day you stumbled upon an injured Xenomorph, it’s been attached to your hip. Since that same day, Con’tei has wanted nothing more than to tear the alien apart. No matter how many times you asked him to at least be civil with the thing. The Yautja has his own thoughts of the Xenomorph. That being having its head upon his wall. Specifically above the bed. Its nonexistent, lifeless eyes peering down at you. Con’tei was sure to let you of every detail to paint a picture inside of your mind. Every time.

When the Xeno looked up at you, guts nearly splattered across the edge of your corn field, you had fallen. Though it has no eyes, you felt compelled to help it back to your dwelling. Con’tei had been off on a hunt and left you enough time to patch up the creature. Until the Yautja returned and smelled the scent of a hard meat on the property. It took lots of sweet talking to get the male to calm down and listening to your voice.

Finally, Con’tei was able to think clearly after he saw you were okay. No injuries. No smell of blood. Not even fear in the air. The Yautja was more than confused on the what, why, and how. That only grew worse when he only had to take step to the side.

There in the bath tub of the dwelling sat the observing hard meat, just peering at him. You physically had to wrap your arms around Con’tei’s thin waist and pull the newly blooded away.

Worst of all, the xeno morph lept out of the tub when it saw the struggle. Its instincts flaring to life. It thought you were fighting the enemy and rushed out to help. Water dripped down its black, scared hide. Sharp silver teeth were bared at Con’tei. Its long, black tail whipped side to side.

A yelp slipped from your lips. Con’tei pushed you off of him a bit too harsh and lunged at the creature. You fell down to the ground and landed wrong on your wrist.

The two clash for a second when your sharp cry sounded an alarm. Each held onto the other, ready to draw blood. They whipped their heads over to your lying, prone form. One pushed at the other and nearly climbed over each other.

Con’tei reaches you first and kneels down at your side. But, he’s shoved off to the side by a black, skeleton hand. A deep bellow tumbled out of his chest as he reared back up to kill the hard meat somehow in your shared home.

It’s your crying that breaks the two of them up again. They separate once more to rush to your aid. For the moment, they were able to ignore the other. Con’tei’s dark orange hands touches at your hands. One was pinned to your chest by the other. Pain radiating from one. A deep purr vibrated from the Yautja in a comforting manner. His bright yellow eyes scanned over the rest of you. The only thing that was of concern was the wrist you were clutching onto.

Across from you, the xenomorph was whining and nudging its elongated head against your cheek. The move didn’t go unnoticed by Con’tei who snarled and scooped you away from the creature. This nearly became a tug-of-war match until you shouted, “stop it!” Each alien stilled.

“Stop fighting, please! I’m in pain and you’re only making it worse.” Con’tei whimpered and bowed his head in a manner that resembled a kicked puppy. “And you’re not making it any better by flailing around.” The xeno lowered its own head, tail dropping to the ground.

“Now, please, put me down. I think I just pulled a muscle in my wrist no thanks to the two of you,” you snapped at the two of them. The anger mostly coming from the pain sprouting from your throbbing wrist.

One look in your heat gaze had the Yautja listening to you. Your feet gingerly touched the ground. Con’tei was hesitant to let go of you at first. His gaze couldn’t stop flickering towards the creature he was sworn to kill. His muscles twitched as he fought every single cell in his body not to leap over you and slaughter it where it stood.

Instantly, you turned towards Con’tei and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Hey! Look at me, sir,” you demanded. The burnt orange Yautja had to drag his gaze off of the xeno. You had just turned your back to it with little care of your safety. “I know you are freaking internally and externally but let me explain.”

He bristled. Of course, you better explain in why in Cetanu’s name is there a hard meat in your home. And why was is following you around? Why was is it protecting you? His first thought was dismissed when smelled no change to your body. It hadn’t implanted anything into you. Con’tei snorted and crossed his arms.

You couldn’t help the sigh, shoulders sagging a little. “Okay, I deserved that.” Con’tei could agree with that. “But, you must see it from my side. I was working the field when I stumbled across this poor thing, all injured and begging for help.” He was ready to shake some sense into you. “I took it home and nursed it back to health. Now, its like a dog! It follows around and helps me around the house and even in the field.”

His anger flooded back to Con’tei’s mind and nearly blinded him. How could the one person he loves in the universe say such stupidity in the moment? He knew you were smarter than this. Yet, here you were proving him wrong with each word that falls out of your mouth.

The xeno made its point by coming up behind you and nuzzling its ugly face into the crook of your neck. His muscles flexed. “And why do you have it our home? Why isn’t it dead?” Injured, you should’ve had little trouble by exterminating the cursed thing. Why did your heart have to be so big? Why did your luck have to be so terrible?

Your face soured. You stepped back and patted the top of the xenomorph’s smooth, shiny head. It gave a chuff and rubbed against you some more. “Because, it was injured! I had to save it. I wasn’t going to let it die! What kind of person do you take me for to leave an injured creature for dead?” By Paya’s name, if he didn’t love you so much. He desperately wanted to shake some sense into you. Maybe rattle the thought of care for it out of your head.

“Exactly why it should be dead. You had a chance to kill it. Why didn’t you take it?” His hunter mind couldn’t grasp the thought process of your ooman brain.

Those were the wrong words to say.

“I told you! It was injured and I’m not like you. It looked so sad and pathetic. Now, look at it! It’s like a puppy I’ve always wanted. A very…” you trailed off to glance over your shoulder. “A very big, scary puppy who would protect me!”

There was truth to your words. Clearly, it was willing to protect you from someone who could easily kill it. But to leave it to live, Con’tei couldn’t let himself live with that knowledge. Even if it showed compliancy to you at the moment, who knows when its baser instincts kick in and slaughter you or use your body for a host.

Con’tei huffed and narrowed his bright eyes on you. “I said no.” The Yautja was still young and recently gained his clan marking during his chiva against these blasted creatures.

The way your brows jumped at his denial; then, your gaze darkened. Con’tei felt a drop of fear fall into the pit of his stomach. “No? Well, mister, it’s not up to you. You go off on these hunts all by yourself for a week or so. I’m left all alone!” You turned your head and nuzzled against the unforgiving, smooth surface of the xenomorph’s cheek. “What happens if something attacks our home? I can’t protect it to save my life. With it, I could at least stand a chance.”

What were you thinking?! After everything he’s told you about his near failure during his chiva, you had wished for the hard meat to stay. You go against his direct order to protect you keep it!

Yet… the truth behind your words sunk deep into the soft tissue of his brain. The knowledge this planet held many dangers while you sit at home, unprotected and weaponless, churned his stomach. Con’tei gritted his mandibles and looked over your shoulder. The creature had its face turned towards him, chin resting on your shoulder.

He tried to think of ways to convince you. Maybe, he’ll spend what little credits he had to get you a creature to protect you. Something he could train from a young age. Something that wasn’t a hard meat that could tear out your throat in a instant.

When his gaze returned to you, his stubbornness finally cracked. A groan sounded from him. “Little one, I swear…” he trailed off then let his shoulders sag. “Alright, alright. Fine. But, you must have it trained. A collar will be put on it. It will send an electric shock through its body, immobilizing it should it turn on you. I’m warning you, my mate.”

All of his stories he’s told you were fresh in your mind. His near defeat of his own life by these creatures. But, the loneness of sitting in an empty house made life difficult.

A squeal pierced the air. Your arms snatched around his waist. Con’tei jolted at first then let himself settle in your embrace before his own arms return the motion. The hunt had been long and made him long for this affection with you this entire time. What is he going to do with his little ooman who has him wrapped around their tiny pinkie finger?

With a sigh, he lets you go.

“Okay, you two be good then. I’ve gotta go clean up the bathroom!” You blew each of them a kiss before skipping towards the bathroom. The door was closed behind you to clean up the mess the xenomorph had left behind in his wake of protection.

Both of the alien’s watched as the door closed behind you. Then, they snapped their heads towards the other. A second paused the still air. Each lunged at the other in a clash of fangs, claws, and snarls.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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luvergirl-866 · 1 day ago

Text

something like love

part - 6

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 4.7k

c/w - language, tiny bit of angst (this is only the beginning i fear.)

a/n - is it cringe of me to ask for live reactions? bc i want live reactions sb. anyway, sorry ik i said this chap would be long and juicy but i decided to hold off on the juicy part, i needed a lil more plot development! also ty to everyone who sends me asks, even if it’s just things like “when’s the next part😫” i love it sm lol. hope yall like this one!!

The next two days are—at least compared to the first two—almost peaceful. The weather is nice, just warm enough and not too humid, which Azzi’s hair appreciates. She got goddess braids done just before the trip and even in protective styles, her hair gets frizzy at the very notion of moisture.

The peacefulness largely comes from the fact that Paige is avoiding her parents like the plague, instead spending all her time with Azzi and her siblings. The third day they spend almost entirely at the local park, shooting around at the court there under the hot sun. Lauren even reluctantly joins for a few games, and she may be adamant about not wanting to play basketball but the talent for it must be genetic because she’s a natural. And if Paige and Azzi spend the whole ‘competition’ brushing hands and flirting, nobody says anything. (Though Ryan does wrinkle his nose at them a few times.)

The fourth day starts out warm, and so Paige and Azzi sneak the kids out bright and early (Azzi, of course, ends up with the job of waking all three siblings up—not one of them is a morning person whatsoever) and go to an ice cream shop, where they eat their cold, sweet breakfasts on the curb while they chat. Both Ryan and Lauren may have argued that they were too old to be excited about ice cream for breakfast anymore, but they both end up with matching, chocolate-covered grins when they’re done.

The weather turns for the worst before noon, though, and the kids want to go home but Paige insists they go to the arcade instead. When she says she’ll pay for as many games as they want, they’re easily swayed. Of course, Paige and Azzi make a competition out of the day, deciding to keep a tally of all their points so that whoever has the most wins by the end has to buy the whole group prizes.

Azzi gives it a fighting go but Paige plays way more video games than she does so she very nearly beats her—but then, when they’re almost out of game tickets, Azzi pouts at her about the whole situation, and suspiciously, she ends up making an incredible recovery, easily beating Paige at almost every game after that.

Lauren picks a koala plushie, Ryan picks some new shoes, and Azzi gets this shiny plastic tiara.

“You didn’t have to get the cheapest prize,” Paige says as Azzi adjusts the tiara on her head. “I got money.”

“I know,” Azzi replies, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “But I had to. As the princess.”

Paige gives her that stupid fucking look again—the one Azzi still can’t figure out even though she knows Paige like the back of her hand, which is just driving her crazy—and that look shows up so often Azzi should really just start referring to it as The Look at this point.

But then Paige smiles, previous odd expression gone, and the way she does that,—slips out of it like she doesn’t even realize it was there in the first place—drives Azzi even more crazy than The Look itself.

Now, it is the fifth day. And Azzi reminisces on these past two blissful days to try and distract herself from the fact that Paige and her parents are having a heated argument right in front of her and her scrambled eggs.

“No, Paige,” Amy is saying. “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t do that!” Paige replies, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m an adult, I make my own money, I can do—“

“It’s stupid.”

“It’ll be fun!”

“It won’t, because it’s not happening.” Amy is unpacking a load of groceries, and Dean is lingering in the corner of the kitchen being absolutely useless. That seems to be his brand.

“Yes it will, Mom,” Paige replies, voice lower now but still obviously frustrated. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I was just seeing if you wanted to come with us. I was tryna be nice!”

“Well it won’t be nice when you crash and we all drown, Paige.”

“Jesus, Mom! I ain’t gonna go around crashing!”

Azzi feels very uncomfortable, wishing she were literally anywhere else, but at the same time this is sort of amusing and she has to hide a smile in a bite of eggs.

This argument is, out of all things, about a boat. Paige wants to rent one and have a lake day, and though she didn’t want to, Azzi convinced her to invite her parents—she figured they’d decline but that they’d be offended if they weren’t at least invited.

She wasn’t really expecting a lecture to come out of it, though. But by the tired look on Paige’s face, she knew exactly what was coming their way.

“You don’t even have a boating license,” Amy continues, placing a new jug of milk and some apples in the fridge. “This is illegal. If you won’t listen to your mother, at least listen to the law.”

That very nearly gets a giggle out of Azzi. She chokes it down.

“This is a private lake, I’on need my license.”

“Well that doesn’t sound shady at all.”

“It’s not, it’s super legit!” Paige makes for her phone in her back pocket. “It has its own website and everything, I looked way into it.”

Amy stares her daughter down for a few seconds, hands on her hips, before she lets out a resigned sigh. “Like you said, Paige, I can’t tell you what to do. You’re an adult, do what you want. But you will not be taking your siblings on that death trap.”

“Wha…” Paige flounders, eyebrows furrowed, and her voice raises again, “that was the whole point of this entire thing!”

“Well, that’s too bad. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll make them wear life jackets!”

“They’re teenagers,” Dean points out rather unhelpfully, and it’s the first time he’s spoken around her in days but Azzi is already sick of him again. “Neither of them are gonna wear life jackets.”

“I’ll force them, I swear.”

“Paige Madison,” Amy snaps, and Paige may be an independent adult now but she still straightens her back subconsciously at her mother’s warning tone, “no means no. They are my kids.”

“They’re my siblings!” Paige replies—rather boldly, Azzi thinks, because if Azzi were in her place she would’ve given up by now.

But Paige, as most daughters do, knows exactly how far to push her mother to get what she wants—apparent in the way Amy massages her temples with her fingers before saying, “You know what, Paige? Fine.”

Dean is jumping in immediately. “What? No, she can’t take my kids out on a boat.”

“She’s right, Dean,” Amy says, though she looks a little pained to be siding with her daughter for once. “They’re her siblings. She wants to do something fun for them.”

“It’s dangerous!” Dean motions sporadically at where Paige and Azzi are sitting at the island. Azzi’s eggs are gone now and so she has nothing to put her awkward energy into. “Neither of them owns a boat, and they are practically strangers—“

“She is my daughter,” Amy says, and it’s so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it, but she does, and it sends shivers through her. Because there’s something dangerous, something protective in her tone, something only a mother who loves their child could convey. And it sends a flicker of hope through her. “She is my daughter and I trust her with her siblings.”

Dean flounders for something but comes up empty, instead storming off all red-faced like a child. Amy doesn’t look either of them in the eye when she says, “Let me know if you kids need anything today,” before leaving the two best friends alone in the kitchen.

Slowly, Paige turns to look at Azzi, something like disbelief in her expression. “Did that—actually go well?”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I think it did.”

Things may just be looking up.

———————————————

Dean may be an asshole, but it turns out he was right about one thing: Ryan and Lauren will not wear life jackets.

“C’mon, guys, it’s the law,” Paige insists, thrusting a pink life jacket at her sister, who scrunches her nose in disgust.

“No way! That’s so ugly, Paige.”

“The color wont matter when you’re drowning.”

“You sound just like Mom!” Lauren sighs, and Paige’s mouth falls open.

“You did not just say that.”

Lauren gives Paige a smug smile, which amuses Azzi because it’s the same smile Paige gives her whenever she wins an argument. “And I meant it too.”

If Lauren were not much smaller than Paige, she would be tackling her right now, based off the look on her face. But instead she composes herself and turns to Ryan, who is sitting at the front of the speedboat on his phone. He feels his older sister’s gaze and looks up at her, then at the life jacket in her hands. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being so for real.”

“There’s gonna be hot girls in bikinis on the lake,” Ryan replies, as if this is the most obvious thing ever. “No way I’m wearing a life jacket.”

Paige sighs and rubs her temple with her fingers, and Azzi would never say it out loud (for fear of being pushed into the lake) but she does kind of look like her mom in this moment.

When Paige turns on her with a warning look, Azzi startles, wondering if she’s somehow read her mind. But instead, Paige picks up another life jacket and says, “Will you at least wear one?”

Azzi smiles, a little puzzled. “Paige, I don’t need a life jacket. I can swim.” Which is obvious considering she and Paige have spent various lake days at her family’s cabin.

“Yeah, but for my peace of mind, though!” Paige shakes the life jacket in Azzi’s direction.

The truth is, Azzi wouldn’t mind wearing the life jacket. But ever since she put on this bikini—pastel purple in color—Paige has been swallowing thickly and averting her eyes constantly. So Azzi thinks she has other reasons for wanting her to cover up.

And Azzi can’t let her get away with that, can she?

“I don’t need it.” Azzi steps forward and takes the life jacket out of Paige’s grasp, tossing it aside before reaching to trail her hand down Paige’s bicep, squeezing the hard muscle a little bit. “And besides, won’t you save me if I’m drowning?” she asks, smiling coyly.

Paige’s throat bobs, eyes landing respectfully on a spot past Azzi’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not really how that works.”

Azzi blinks, and she knows just how big and brown her eyes are when she looks up at Paige through her lashes. “No? Thought you’ve been in the gym?”

“I have,” Paige says defensively.

“Hm.” Azzi lets her hand trail off Paige’s arm, resting it on Paige’s side before dancing her fingers dangerously over Paige’s exposed abs. “You wanna prove that to me, baby?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and Azzi loves the way she can not only see but feel her stomach tense under her fingers. But the moment is broken by a gagging sound nearby.

Lauren—who has sat beside her brother and pulled out her own phone—is now looking at them with disgust. “You guys are so gross.”

“You shouldn’t be making sexual innuendos in front of Lauren,” Ryan adds on, though his eyes don’t leave his screen.

“Yeah!” Lauren agrees, then furrows her eyebrows and starts tapping at her phone. Azzi guesses she’s probably searching what sexual innuendo means.

“Hey, yo, don’t blame me,” Paige says, putting her hands up and taking two big steps away from Azzi. “She started it.”

“Azzi’s a freak,” Ryan says.

“Whoa, chill!”

“Hey, that’s actually offensive,” Lauren says. She has picked up a habit of defending Azzi with her life these last few days they’ve spent together, and Azzi has decided she would do the same. “That’s like calling her a monster or something.”

Ryan smirks, finally looking up at them. “I didn’t mean that kinda freak.”

“Okayyy!” Paige jumps in before Lauren can do any more Googling. “Let’s get this show on the road. Imma go untie us real quick, then we’ll head out.”

For the first time, nerves bubble in Azzi’s tummy. “Paige, you sure you’ll be able to drive this thing?”

Paige looks almost offended at the question. “Yeah, duh.”

“It’s just, you’ve never driven a speed boat before…”

“Trust me, mama,” Paige says, nodding cockily to herself. “I got driving skills like you’ve never seen.”

Fifteen minutes later, Azzi realizes Paige was telling the truth. She has certainly never seen these driving skills before.

Paige is an—erratic driver, to put it mildly. This lake is private, huge, and though there are plenty of other boaters out Paige drives as if they’re the only ones on the water. At one point, she gets to such a high speed that even Ryan grasps onto Azzi a little bit.

When Paige very nearly runs into a cruising party boat, Azzi finally gets up from her place between the kids and marches over to Paige, who glances up at her with a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

“Lemme drive,” Azzi demands, beckoning for Paige to get up.

“No!” Paige says stubbornly. “I’m doin’ good!”

“I thought I was going to die!” Lauren pipes up angrily.

Azzi motions to her. “See? You’re scaring your brother and sister.”

“Whoa, who said I was scared?” Ryan says.

Azzi decides against bringing up the fact that he kept clinging to her arm. “This is scary, I wanna drive.”

“But babeee,” Paige groans, bringing the boat to a stop so she can properly argue, “you drive like a grandma.”

“I drive like a sane person, is what I think you mean to say.”

“It’ll be boring.”

“Paige.”

Paige stares her down for a moment before sighing like a stubborn little kid. “Fine. You can drive.”

Azzi nods, pleased, and shoves at Paige’s shoulder when she doesn’t move. “Get up.”

A slow smile creeps over Paige’s face and Azzi doesn’t like the look of that at all. “I gotta show you the ropes.”

“I don’t need you to teach me how to drive this thing,” Azzi says as if it’s obvious, because really, it is. The thought of Paige trying to teach anyone her…unique ways is downright scary. “I got it.”

“Nah, I think you’ll need some help.”

“P, for real, stop being difficult and move.”

“I’m not about to—“

“Can we go?” Lauren says loudly, getting both girls’ attention.

“Yeah, I’m getting hot as hell just sitting here,” Ryan agrees.

“I wanna get to that diving cliff Paige was talking about!”

Before Azzi can turn back to Paige to continue arguing with her, Paige has her hands on her hips and is pulling her firmly into her lap. Azzi squeaks, grabbing onto the wheel for leverage.

“Paige!” she exclaims, turning to glare at the smug-looking girl underneath her.

“You heard them,” Paige says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if her hands are tied. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t—“ Azzi starts to argue once again, but then Lauren is sighing dramatically in that teenage-girl way of her’s and saying, “Seriously, come on!”

So, almost in a daze, Azzi turns back to the front and moves her hand to the shift, getting the boat moving slowly again. She tries desperately to ignore it when Paige leans up close to her ear and murmurs, “Atta girl,” but she can’t help the goosebumps that erupt over her neck and Paige must spot them because she chuckles lightly before leaning back, letting Azzi do her thing.

Trying to shake off the feeling of Paige’s hot breath fanning over her skin, Azzi amps up the speed a little bit, determined to show Paige that she can be fun and safe, as promised.

After a few minutes of skimming over the water, Azzi calls over the wind, “Thought you were gonna ‘show me the ropes’?”

“Looks like you got it,” Paige says, sitting straight so she’s pressed up against Azzi’s back again, and her hands find their place on Azzi’s waist.

“Why’d you make me sit on your lap, then, P?” Azzi asks, and her tone lilts teasingly but she is sort of freaking out on the inside because moments like these—moments where Azzi hardly bothers to hide her feelings for Paige and Paige, instead of shying away, responds—are becoming a little too common for comfort.

Paige rests her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, lips brushing her cheek when she says, “Think you know why, hm?”

Yeah. Definitely far too common for comfort.

Ramping up the speedboat a little bit—enough that Ryan whoops and Lauren leans over the side to touch the water—Azzi shifts her hips. She moves out of discomfort, almost subconsciously trying to get away from this buzzing energy between her and her best friend, but Paige lets out a huff of air at the motion and, curious, Azzi does it again.

A full-on gasp this time.

A flush creeps up over Azzi’s cheeks all the way down her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from pleasure or shyness, though likely it’s both. But she can’t let Paige have the upper hand, because Azzi can’t even imagine how quickly she’d fold if that happened. So instead, she turns her head to the side and says, “All good, Paige?”

The problem with this is Paige’s face is still turned toward her when she says it. And when Azzi moves to reciprocate the angle, their lips are so close that they brush on the last word. On the utterance of Paige’s name.

Azzi jerks back as soon as it happens, putting a couple inches of distance between their faces, and she’s sure the flush is noticeable by now. She tries for a lighthearted laugh, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were so close—“

She doesn’t see it coming when Paige kisses her.

It pulls a gasp out of her, lips now pressed against Paige parting slightly in surprise, and her eyes don’t even close until she feels Paige’s tongue dip inside her mouth.

It’s a quick swipe, her tongue against the space between Azzi’s teeth and upper lip before she’s pulling away—only enough to make the kiss much more chaste.

Her hands slide from Azzi’s waist to her stomach, and Azzi grips onto the steering wheel for dear life when Paige moans ever so quietly into her mouth, the sound barely heard over the wind whipping around them. And then the wind is whipping Paige’s hair into their faces, a few strands getting in Azzi’s mouth, which she takes as her opportunity to pull away. Paige stares at her—The Look again—for only a split second this time (Azzi much prefers that over the lingering one) before her face is breaking into a smile, not cocky or smug or teasing but just bright, and Azzi can’t help but laugh with her as they pull Paige’s hair out of her mouth.

“Keep your eyes on the lake!” Lauren yells at them, and when they look at her she’s got her nose wrinkled. “What is it with you guys and PDA today?”

“Maybe someone put viagra in their coffees this morning,” Ryan suggests, looking equally as disgusted as his little sister but also twice as amused.

“What’s viagra?” Lauren asks.

“Yo, Ryan!” Paige snaps, her hands moving tantalizingly from Azzi’s tummy to rest low on her hips instead, and Azzi forces herself to look back where she’s driving. “Keep it PG, dawg!”

“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies, and Azzi isn’t looking at him but she can picture the smirk on his face—she knows the look all too well by now.

The three of them bicker for a few more minutes, and Azzi tries really hard to focus on where they’re going rather than the implications of that kiss and all the questions that follow it.

Paige is the bad driver, but when she leans forward and mimics her—“All good, baby?”—Azzi worries she may be the one to crash this boat.

———————————————

“Sunscreen time!”

“No, what?”

“We just put some on!”

“Az, I’m never gonna tan at this point!”

Shaking the sunscreen into her hands, Azzi motions the three siblings towards her. “C’mon, you need it.”

“I don’t burn,” Lauren insists as she steps up in front of Azzi, lifting her arms dutifully anyway.

“You’re already getting a little red,” Azzi points out, applying an extra-thick layer onto Lauren’s rosy nose.

“This is lame,” Lauren groans, though she still lets Azzi work in silence and mumbles a thank you before she turns back to the lake.

Ryan is next, and he doesn’t complain about it but he does stare down at his phone the entire time, his head only falling back down when Azzi tries to push it up. “Ryan,” she sighs.

He tears his eyes away from his phone, only to look around subconsciously. Azzi knows he’s trying to see if the gaggle of teenage girls along the rocky beach have noticed him getting his sunscreen done.

“Hurry up,” Paige complains, nudging her younger brother in the back, and he turns around to shove her.

Azzi fights back a smile. “You can put it on yourself if that’s better.”

“It’s good,” he says nonchalantly, but he hasn’t quite mastered acting like he doesn’t care.

Azzi finishes up quickly, ending the torture with an encouraging smile, watching him run up to join his sister where she stands on the ledge above the lake, sneaking up on her. He pushes her in and Azzi laughs at the way Lauren screeches before her eyes drift to Paige, who is now standing right in front of her, looking awfully petulant.

“You really don’t want me to tan, huh?” she says, wincing as Azzi rubs the cold lotion over Paige’s sun-kissed shoulders.

“Your white ass is gonna burn if we don’t do this every thirty minutes,” Azzi says, reiterating what she said the past five times Paige complained about the sunscreen.

“I got a little melanin in me.”

Azzi looks at the way Paige’s blue eyes are squinting against the summer sun, the way her pale skin is already tinted pink, and raises her brows.

Paige holds her hand up. “Just gimme the sunscreen.”

Chuckling, Azzi squirts some into her hand before giving the bottle to Paige, who turns around and starts doing her front while Azzi does her back. They’ve done this maybe a hundred times, before countless sunny fair days and hot boat rides, but today it just feels a little…off. Everything feels a little off about them recently.

Azzi worries it may be her fault. She has always been good at hiding her feelings for Paige, good at making sure her attraction doesn’t show on her face just like she knows all her other emotions do. But recently, ever since they began this facade—and more so ever since they arrived in Montana—she knows she’s been slipping up. She thought she’d be okay but she wasn’t prepared for the way Paige would look at her like she wasn’t pretending, the way Paige calls her pet names even when they’re alone, the way Paige told her she liked kissing her and wants to do it again.

The way Paige did do it again.

And there lies the burning question: why?

Azzi knows Paige doesn’t have feelings for her. Azzi knows that she’s the only one who lies awake thinking about having Paige in every sense of the word, the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night thinking of Paige with an uncomfortable stickiness between her legs. She is the only one, of course, who is in love.

Then why do Paige’s eyes and hands wander nowadays? Why does she call her baby in quiet moments? Why did she kiss her when she really didn’t have to?

Could she be—attracted to Azzi? Maybe through playing this role, she’s seen Azzi in a new light, and realized her best friend is no longer dorky and fourteen but rather a tall, pretty twenty year old with a great ass. (And yes, Azzi knows she has a great ass.)

She could be attracted to her and not be in love. She could be attracted to her and have no other attachment whatsoever. The two things can be true at once, can’t they?

The thought flatters her but it mostly scares her, because she’s barely surviving this unrequited love as it is. But with her best friend having any level of attraction back? How is she supposed to continue on like that?

“Azzi?” Paige asks, and the tone of her voice implies she’s already said it a few times.

Azzi hums, blinking. “Sorry, yeah?”

“Uh,” Paige says, and it’s then that Azzi realizes her hands have stopped rubbing lotion into Paige’s back and have sort of just come to rest on her waist—like it’s instinctive. Like it’s natural. “You done back there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Azzi says, but for some unknown reason she can’t find it in herself to let go.

Paige glances over her shoulder. “Azzi?” she repeats.

Azzi can’t really take it any longer.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Paige’s sides tense up under Azzi’s hands, and then she’s stepping away, out of her grasp, and turning to face her.

The look on her face is guarded, almost closed off completely. This is dangerous territory and Azzi has barely dipped her toes in the water yet.

When Azzi’s hands fall helplessly to her sides, Paige says, “I was pretending.”

As much as Azzi doesn’t buy it, the words—and the flat, cold intonation of them—sting. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Why’re you being weird about it?” Paige asks, eyes dancing nervously away from Azzi’s face.

“I’m not, Paige. I just—I wanna know. For real.”

“You agreed to do this for me,” Paige reminds her, as if that has anything to do with this. But, of course, it has everything to do with this, and Azzi hates how easy it makes it for the both of them to hide under a facade, a lie.

“I know,” Azzi says carefully, also taking a step back if only to get away from Paige’s chilly stare. “But you didn’t have to kiss me this time. There wasn’t a reason.”

Paige shrugs, and Azzi hates to admit it but she is much better than her younger brother at acting nonchalant. “We’re s’posed to be a couple. I don’t want my siblings getting suspicious. They know I’m a touchy person.”

Getting the sinking feeling that Azzi won’t get anything out of this conversation other than a fight, she nods slowly, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Paige, as usual, thaws at the slightest hint of weakness, taking a tiny step forward. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Azzi is a little too quick to say. The kiss caught her by surprise, but they’ve only done it two times and Azzi is quickly coming to find that kissing Paige is the most comfortable thing in the world—it’s natural, and right, and like curling up in bed with a book and a warm cup of tea—and Azzi also knows they should never do it again.

Despite the earnest answer, Paige looks at her suspiciously. “You sure, ma? Don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Azzi does her best to fix her face, which she worries may be showing a little too much. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”

“Aight,” Paige says, but she still doesn’t sound very convinced. Azzi’s just glad she’s letting it go.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Azzi says. She’s not.

At this, Paige sighs, reaching out to bridge the gap between them, running a gentle hand up and down Azzi’s arm. “Nah, don’t be, I get it. Sorry for getting a lil defensive.”

A little? Despite the fact she doesn’t believe Paige one bit, and that she doesn’t like anything about the interaction they just had, Azzi manages a smile. “You’re good.”

Paige nods, and her smile at least seems to be sincere. But as they jump into the lake, and as Paige talks Azzi’s ear off while Azzi floats around lazily in a donut floatie, things feel even more off than before.

Azzi can’t quite place what it is until late that night, when they’re both going to sleep and Paige is, for the first time in ages, strangely quiet. She glances over to find Paige lying on her stomach, face turned away, breathing too quickly to be asleep.

And that’s when Azzi notices it. The gap between them, the sheer amount of space from Azzi on her side all the way to Paige, who is almost on the edge of the bed.

Paige always sleeps close to Azzi.

And she always sleeps with her head turned towards her.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

lmk if u wanna be on my tag list btw!!

#pazzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb #fake dating #paige buckets #the people's princess #wlw

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sunrenity · 2 days ago

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⟡ㅤㅤNERVOUSㅤ┈─ㅤPSH

ㅤㅤㅤ ( ✦ )ㅤㅤyou've got me nervous to speak

precis : you're too nervous to confess to park sunghoon.

박성훈ㅤ୨୧ㅤcrush ! sunghoon x 𝒻em readerㅤ..ㅤfluff, high school auㅤ/ㅤkissing? (once on the cheek)ㅤㅤ( 1290 )

valentine’s day is supposed to be magical. that’s what everyone says, right? fairy tales and romance movies insist it’s the day when grand confessions lead to perfect happily-ever-afters. and maybe that’s true—for everyone except you.

the halls of your high school are buzzing with excitement. heart-shaped balloons float above lockers, streamers line the walls, and couples giggle as they exchange chocolate and flowers. everywhere you look, people are confessing their feelings with trembling hands and hopeful smiles. you, on the other hand, can barely keep your hands steady.

in your backpack is a small gift bag, one you spent far too long preparing. the pink tissue paper peeking out is perfectly fluffed, and inside is a box of chocolates you know he loves, along with a folded note that’s taken up all your free time this week. it’s not just any note—it’s a confession. your confession.

and the “he” in question? park sunghoon.

park sunghoon isn’t just any guy. he’s the guy. the star forward on the school’s hockey team, with sharp features that could rival any celebrity and an easy, quiet charm that makes everyone gravitate toward him. his brown hair, always slightly tousled as if he’s just stepped off the ice, catches the light as he moves through the hallway. he’s the kind of guy who could have anyone, but somehow, he’s still… kind. that’s what got to you the most.

today, he’s wearing the school’s standard black blazer, but somehow it looks better on him than anyone else. the blazer hugs his broad shoulders, and the white dress shirt underneath is just slightly unbuttoned, giving him an effortlessly cool vibe.

you remember the first time you spoke to him. it was a year ago, back when you were assigned as chemistry partners. you’d been terrified at first—how could someone as effortlessly cool as sunghoon ever tolerate working with you? but he surprised you.

“don’t stress,” he had said when you apologized for nearly dropping a beaker. “i’ll catch it if it falls.”

that’s when it started. the little smiles he’d send your way when you accidentally got chalk on your hands. the way he’d explain things patiently, even though he didn’t have to. and, most of all, the way he’d tilt his head slightly when he looked at you, as if you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

it had taken you weeks to admit it to yourself: you had a crush on park sunghoon. a big one.

now, standing in the middle of a crowded hallway with nervous energy pooling in your stomach, you’re not sure you can go through with it.

your chance comes during lunch when you spot him by the vending machines, casually chatting with one of his friends. his black blazer fits perfectly, and even the way he leans against the wall looks effortless.

you grip the gift bag tighter, your palms sweaty. every step toward him feels heavier than the last. just do it. what’s the worst that could happen?

but then, as you’re halfway there, a girl beats you to it.

she’s hard to miss. her shiny black hair is styled into perfect curls, and her red dress—a bold choice for a school day—clings to her figure like it was made for her. she’s holding out a bouquet of roses with a bright smile, her glossy lips catching the light. she’s confident, composed, and everything you feel you aren’t.

you freeze as she steps up to sunghoon. he accepts the roses politely, his expression unreadable, and your heart sinks.

for a moment, you wonder if this is it. if valentine’s day will end like every other day—with your feelings locked away and your hopes dashed.

by the time the last bell rings, you’re ready to give up. the gift bag sits in your lap as you wait in the art room, staring blankly at the wall. you couldn’t bear to sit in the cafeteria, where you’d have to watch sunghoon receive more confessions. what if he already likes someone else? what if you’ve been delusional this entire time?

your best friend, jay, eventually finds you there, his eyebrows shooting up when he sees your defeated posture.

“you’re seriously just gonna sit here all day?” he asks, plopping down in the seat across from you.

“don’t start, jay.”

he ignores you, leaning forward with a knowing smirk. “you’ve been crushing on sunghoon for what, a year? and you still can’t tell him? you realize this is, like, the perfect day to confess, right?”

“i can’t,” you mutter, staring at your hands. “he’s already gotten so many confessions today. what if he doesn’t want mine? or worse, what if he laughs at me?”

jay groans, dragging a hand down his face. “god, you’re so dramatic. sunghoon isn’t like that. he’s literally the nicest guy ever. and honestly? i think he likes you.”

you snap your head up. “don’t say that. he doesn’t.”

jay shrugs, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “guess we’ll never know. unless…”

before you can react, he snatches the gift bag off your desk and bolts out of the room.

“jay!” you shriek, jumping to your feet.

the scene that unfolds is nothing short of a nightmare. jay runs through the hallway, holding the bag high above his head as you chase after him, your face burning with humiliation.

“give it back!” you hiss, lunging for the bag, but he dodges effortlessly.

students turn to watch, laughing at the commotion, and then—because fate is cruel—you see him.

sunghoon stands near his locker, his dark eyes watching the chaos unfold. his hair catches the afternoon light, and his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh.

you freeze mid-step, your stomach dropping. jay notices him too, and because he’s the worst friend in the world, he stops right in front of sunghoon, holding the bag out dramatically.

“this is for you,” jay says, grinning like a madman.

the silence that follows is deafening.

you want to disappear, to melt into the floor and never come back. but then, slowly, sunghoon takes the bag.

carefully, he opens it, pulling out the box of chocolates first. his eyebrows lift in surprise when he sees the brand—it’s his favorite. of course, it is. you’d spent weeks noticing the little details about him, including the snacks he bought after practice.

he unfolds the note next, his eyes scanning the words you’d spent hours agonizing over. the tension is unbearable. every second feels like an eternity.

and then, he smiles. not the polite smile he gives everyone else, but something real and warm.

he looks at it for a moment before turning his gaze to you. “is this true?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod helplessly, unable to speak.

“thanks,” he says, his voice almost shy. “i was kinda hoping you’d say something today.”

you blink, your brain struggling to process his words. “you… you were?”

sunghoon chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. i’ve liked you since we were chemistry partners. you were just so… you. funny, kind, a little clumsy. i thought it was cute.”

your heart feels like it might burst. “you like me?”

“yeah,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

the rest of the day feels like a dream. sunghoon walks you to the bus stop, his shoulder brushing against yours as you talk. he tells you more—about how he’d also been too nervous to confess, about how he kept waiting for a sign that you might feel the same.

and when he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek, you’re sure of one thing: valentine’s day is magical.

but only because of him.

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heeseungiez · 2 days ago

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nothing i don’t have | pjs (1)

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1500

content warnings! swearing, jay is delulu and jealous

author's note! toenze is my new roman empire... i don't think i'll ever shut up about it. also realistically i'm only posting this bc yolo since i have nothing ???

masterlist | next

It didn’t affect Jay anyhow, really. That you ended whatever the two of you had for another guy. Like, this was all just casual. And you still wanted to be friends which was exactly what the two of you were before… so not much had to change between the two of you. Other than, well, the lack of physical intimacy.

He didn’t care, really. It wasn’t like you were the only girl he hooked up with (you were) or that he couldn’t get any other girls, but… you ending the situationship was kind of exactly why he liked you. Because you understood everything was casual and there were no expectations, no feelings. The others, they always got attached.

And, look, Jay understood that maybe he was being too nice or whatever, but it was in his nature to help out when necessary, or to cook for people in the morning — it wasn’t like he made breakfast only for those girls anyway. He had roommates to feed, too.

You ended the deal because you had no feelings for him. Which was exactly what he wanted. So why the fuck did it bother him so much? And for Huening Kai, no less? The tall emo kid that barely spoke and people thought he was being mysterious or whatever.

What could you possibly see in him?

What did he have that Jay didn’t?

Jay let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, eyes still fixated on the conversation between you and him. So Huening Kai asked you out. And you liked him enough to say yes. That was certainly not on his bingo card. Realistically, he thought the type of guys you liked were someone like Sung Hanbin or Choi Soobin or… him. Not Huening Kai.

What the hell?

“What’s up? Someone steal your cat?” Heeseung entered the shared living room with a grin. Jay had to dryly laugh at the irony of his question since, in a way, yes.

“Nah. It’s Y/N,” Jay replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wants to be just friends.”

“Damn, got tired of you already?” Heeseung teased, but he knew not to go further when Jay’s scathing glare nearly burned him. “What did she say?”

“Huening Kai asked her out and she said yes.” Jay shook his head. You and Kai weren’t even dating yet, and you already wanted to be exclusive with him? Why? Who even does that?

“Oh, Kai? He’s got music classes with me,” Heeseung said with a grin. “He knows how to play like five instruments. He’s kinda cool. A band kid, too. Pretty sure he has a band.” Jay didn’t need to know any of that. Not yet anyway. And then Heeseung added: “I think he was planning to ask Y/N out for a while. I caught him asking around about her once.”

Jay clenched his jaw. How long had you been talking to Kai before he asked you out? Was it out of nowhere or did you befriend him before? Which gave him another reason to be upset because if you did befriend him before, you didn’t tell Jay anything. In fact, you hadn’t been telling him anything about yourself or your life for a while now.

Which stung.

“Kai’s a good guy. You should be happy for her.” Heeseung made a point, giving Jay a long, meaningful look. There was more he wanted to express, but chose to not push his limits.

Jay huffed.

Thinking about it, maybe he’d have actually preferred it if you were in love with him.

Upon entering the Sanctuary Café, you noticed that it was already packed. But you were instantly recognised by Taehyun, who greeted you with a bright smile and led you toward a table that was empty, save for your reservation. It was in front of the stage set up for live performances, and it occurred to you then that Kai’s surprise was very likely just that. He prepared a performance for you.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the stage. It had a full instrument set up for a band. Drums, bass, keyboard and an electric guitar. The sight of it made you think of Jay for a bit, but you shook your head and got rid of the thought.

This would be your first date with Kai. The boy who actually doesn’t only want to sleep with you, but also wants to do everything else that real relationships include. Like holding hands and hugging in public and being affectionate without being judged. (The things you wished you could’ve had from Jay.)

A group of three guys entered the stage, none of which were Huening Kai. They glanced toward your table every now and then with a knowing smile, though. You watched them set up their instruments — the guitarist, the bassist and keyboardist. But the drums were empty.

Because of course, he knew how to play the drums. He was a genius that never flaunted his skills, and the reality of it hit you just now. Huening Kai was a drummer — which was actually sexy as hell.

“Hello, everyone, welcome to the Sanctuary Café,” the guitarist spoke into the microphone with the largest smile. He had a cute dimple as well, and you thought he perfectly fit Kai — whenever he wasn’t closing in on himself. “I’m Kim Taerae, lead singer and guitarist of our band, Toenze. We’ve prepared a very special performance today because one of our members wants to dedicate it to a special girl.”

A round of awes went through the crowd. You looked around in hopes of catching a glance of Kai, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, your eyes locked with a person you did not expect to see today — at all.

Jay stood at the back of the café with Heeseung by his side, and you wished you could unsee him. Your heartbeat raced, and your mind felt like you needed to come up to him and apologise. But what would you even be apologising for?

“On my left is our bassist, Choi Beomgyu, and on the keyboard, you’ve got Han Yujin. And, of course, we’re missing a key member — the drummer,” Taerae spoke lightly, his smile hearable in his voice. “Some of you already know him from our previous performances, but for those who have yet to meet him — please give a round of applause to Huening Kai!”

Kai wasn’t even inside the café. He entered through the main door in a dark grey hoodie, the hood covering his face. The whole shop held its breath as he looked up. And when his eyes met yours, a smile spread across his lips. Taking off his hood, he revealed his face and carefully styled bangs.

From the pocket of his hoodie, he pulled out a bouquet, and when he aimed through the crowd toward you, your heart nearly melted. All thoughts of Jay being here, too, evaporated from your mind. All you could think about was Huening Kai, looking beautiful as ever, heading toward you with a bouquet of flowers.

“For you, my lady.” He knelt down to hand you the flowers, and you stared at him with wide eyes. Grinning, he winked before standing up and heading toward the stage, leaving you absolutely flustered and frozen in place.

“Hello, everyone! This performance is dedicated to the girl that didn’t reject me. It’s for you, Y/N,” he said into the mic jokingly, but there was a hidden meaning behind his words.

The memory of how he asked you out lingered, and you giggled. You could still picture him, approaching you with his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans. And then he asked you, in the most embarrassing way possible, if you were dating Jay. The smile that spread on his lips when you said that what you had with Jay was only casual was an unforgettable sight, really.

“I can make you forget him,” was Kai’s closing argument, and the confidence with which he had said it sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t possibly reject him then.

Jay’s glare was palpable. You could feel it at the back of your neck, but you ignored him. Why was he glaring at you anyway? If there were no feelings involved, he shouldn’t care about any of this.

“The first song we prepared for today is called Higher Than Heaven,” Taerae informed the crowd. “And the second song is Kill the Romeo. Hope you guys like them!”

Both songs were amazing, and both conveyed one pretty clear message: I’m better than him. You couldn’t help but laugh and enjoy yourself while Kai’s band performed. They were good — really good. And eventually, you even stopped sensing Jay’s gaze burning through you.

Naturally, you turned around to check on the spot where Jay had previously been. Except he wasn’t there. Instead, you were met with Heeseung, who shrugged when he noticed you looking at him.

“He left,” Heeseung mouthed.

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen x reader #park jongseong fic #park jongseong x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #park jongseong #enhypen jay #haia writes

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iichfilwypj · 14 hours ago

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could you maybe do hurt/comfort with percy x daughter of tyche! reader??

luckiest of all times | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of tyche! reader ღ warnings: hurt/comfort! jack is an asshole! ღ wc: 743 i hope you like it!!

“How could you mess up the only thing you had to get right?! Are you useless or what?!!”

As she headed toward her cabin, Jack’s voice behind her wouldn’t let her escape. The other campers stared at the scene in shock, some even with pity, and it only deepened her embarrassment, her cheeks turning bright crimson.

The worst part was knowing he had a point. It had been a task as simple as making sure she won a card game. Hell, she'd faced monsters and survived, yet a stupid card game was the one thing to break her?

“Stop running away and face–” She heard the gasps before she felt Jack’s hands grab her arm tightly and spin her around.

For the first time, she saw a hatred that was different from the usual; his expression was filled with disgust, and it unsettled her slightly.

“You’re just a bitch-”

But before he could continue, strong hands grabbed the boy’s arms and shoved him roughly to the ground. She was so disoriented that she wouldn’t have known it was her boyfriend stepping in if not for the matching blue bracelet he wore.

“Get your hands off her, now.” A deep, dark voice rumbled from his chest, like a warning. If there was one thing Percy could do effortlessly, it was shift from his usual playful self into someone downright intimidating.

Things blurred after that, but soon they were alone in his cabin, his eyes locked onto her, searching for any hint of emotion.

There was nothing visible, but he knew exactly what was going through her mind. She believed she was the cause of her own misery, that she was somehow responsible for everyone else’s problems.

She was so, so harsh on herself.

And those idiots weren’t helping; Percy was certain he had heard more complaints than any words of thanks toward her.

The moment his hand reached her cheek, she shattered; a sob broke free, soon followed by a cascade of tears running unrestrained down her face.

“No, no, no. Please don't cry." He couldn’t stop himself, pulling her into his arms to hold her as close as possible."You didn’t do anything wrong, love."

The sensation of her trembling, fragile body against his made him want to go back and punch that jerk, but the most important thing was right there, in his arms.

She looked desperate, holding her boyfriend's shirt and squeezing it with all the force she couldn’t express any other way. And he let her, offering her the space to do whatever it took to feel better.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He pulled back from her, cradling her face with both hands. The tears kept flowing, and he wiped them away slowly, one by one. "You did all you could, and that's what matters, okay?"

“But I–”

“No buts. I know you feel like you could have done more, or even something better. But the fact that you tried, that you decided to help him, and that you did the best you could is more than enough, okay? If someone can’t see that, then that’s their problem.”

The gentle caresses on her cheeks continued as the tears fell, but the smile that adorned Percy’s face made something inside her shift.

“And I’ll always, always–” he whispered, leaning in until their noses nearly touched, his breath warm against her face. “–be there to show you how proud I am of you.”

His words, soft and full of love, paired with the tender touch of his hand brushing her cheek, caressing it with tenderness like they he could ease the weight she carried on her shoulders.

It felt great to be seen, truly seen. It felt so, so good to be recognized for what she did.

For everything she had done.

She pressed a small kiss on his nose and he loosened his hold on her cheeks, sliding his hands down to the base of her neck, caressing softly. His fingers traced small, soothing circles there, the touch making her feel grounded.

She let out a shaky breath, a soft sniffle escaping her, before looking up at him with a faint smile.

"You know," she said, her voice still thick with emotion, "I'm supposed to be the one who gives luck to others. But I think I’m the lucky one for finding you."

GOD I LOVE COMFORT SO MUCH and just so you know, every one of these kind of imagines is completely based on me <3 please i want friends if you relate talk to me!

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson imagines #fanfic #my writing

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silly-of-the-str1ng · 2 days ago

Text

Dream come True?

A/N: this is the first fic i've written in little over a year so feel free to lmk what you think with a comment or two! also some word/spelling errors, i made this while sick at 11pm 😭🙏

warning: none :3

word count: 1.1k

summary: your dream of going to Billie's show suddenly becomes a reality

------------------------<3----------------------------

You had been listening to Billie’s new album ‘HIT ME HARD AND SOFT’ ever since it had been released, over and over and over, and well you get the point.

And when you heard Billie was going on tour?- you nearly cried, well no- you did cry, a lot at that.. but as usual the universe wasn't on your side.

“No- No, No, No, NO!-” you practically screamed as you scrolled down to the New York shows, desperately refreshing the page as if the big bold letters “SOLD OUT” would disappear. You had never even had a chance to try and even go to any of her shows even once, you were pretty tight on money due to New york’s crazy prices for just about everything and the moment you had saved up enough money to buy a show ticket? of course you wouldn't be quick enough to get one or even try.

You slammed your head down on your mattress, whining pretty pathetically as your best friend, Amber awkwardly sat next to you, looking up from her phone where she was texting her boyfriend. She sighed softly and shook her head as she tilted down to meet your sad eyes, “all sold out already?”

“yes…” you grumbled, shoving your face into your comforter. “You should at least expect it somewhat, I mean she's Billie Eilish for goodness sake….” Amber hummed as she went back to messaging Lucas.

You sat up slightly, resting your chin on your palm, “I know!” you groaned as you rubbed at your eyes clean of your stupid tears, it felt so stupid to cry over someone who didn't know you at all and you'd never have the chance of meeting, but here you were-

“I just!- She coming to New York three times, Amber! THREE!! and every single show is sold out in under the first day it seems like!” you wailed as you shoved your face back into your blanket.

Amber sighed softly, setting down her phone and gently placing her hand on your back, rubbing soft circles over it- “You know, maybe it's for the best… I mean you'd probably explode if you even had a chance to see Billie in person-” Amber offered, making you scoff harshly.

You wanted nothing more, you'd sell your soul if you had to- or your car…

—-

That was a few weeks ago now, you were still mourning the loss of course but you still had to go to work- so here you were clocking in to your mom's bakery for the oh so convenient shift of 4AM… like anyone was actually up at this time but you had to start making the pastries for the day.

You kneaded at the dough, softly grunting as you rolled it out and cut the dough, shaping it into croissants and setting it on the tray. Though the soft ringing of the front entry door opening and closing caught your attention.

“Seriously…?” you sourly muttered to yourself, who the hell is up at 4:28 in the morning getting breakfast?!- you walked out from the back, sighing excessively as you spoke in a pretty harsh tone-

“Sorry if your here for any pastries you'll have to wait another two hours or so-” though when you met the eyes of the woman who walked in you were shocked-

Billie

fucking

Eilish.

“Oh, no worries- I can wait, I don't have to be anywhere today thankfully,” she shrugged confidently as she met your eyes, those bright blue eyes staring back into yours. You felt your face naturally go red from embarrassment.

You stood there awkwardly before letting out a forced chuckle, “I-I don't want to having to wait in here all by yourself while I make stuff- that'd be kind of rude considering your, well-”

“Billie Eilish?” she finished with a soft smile.

“...yeah…” you mumbled in an almost embarrassed way, well no- it WAS in an embarrassed way, 100 percent.

Though she just simply sat down in one of the booths, crossing her legs, “I may be a singer but that doesn't mean i'm not human enough to not really care-” she chuckled softly, making your heart jump.

“Right- sorry-” You quickly replied.

“I, take it you're a fan?” she asked, not prying but just genuinely looking to see what she was to you in a way. “Uh yeah!-” you awkwardly smiled, “I tried to get a ticket to any of the shows your having here but you know-” you died off at the end, rubbing the back of your neck with the hand that was still completely covered in flour.

“Oh- for real? Do you want one or something? I can just get you set up.” she offered, making you do a double take.

“A-Are you serious?-”

“Yeah, it's easy, I can get you up front too, if you want, I know that some people are sensitive to the bass.” she hummed, pulling out her phone to do god knows what. Then she met your eyes again, tilting her head to the side slightly as if you were just as regular as a friend to her. “So?”

You were star struck, you didn't even know what to say. On the more obvious hand, this was Billie Eilish offering you a completely free ticket to one of her shows, you had to yes. But on the more annoying hand that wanted to have some sort of confidence for some version- you wanted to say no.

“uhhh… i don't think so- I mean it's asking a lot from you really-”

“Nah it's fine, i'll just get you a VIP pass, just tell someone in security to go get me, I know they probably won't listen but if I hear about someone being annoying i'll assume it's probably you-” Billie chuckled.

“...u-uh- okay…”

There was an awkward silence, your shoes squeaking against the floor before Billie spoke up again, “on second thought- i'll just have someone come pick it up… You've got a nice place here but I'd rather not sit down in silence by myself today…” and this time you let out a small genuine laugh, “I hear you.”

Billie stood up and walked over to the counter where you stood behind, “Nice meeting you by the way, most fans I meet are kinda crazy about seeing me,” She chuckled. “Oh believe me i'm going crazy inside.” You scoffed, making her smile. “Well, I'm gonna dip, maybe see you round…?” she shrugged. “Yeah, maybe…” you repeated as she walked over to the front door and opened it. though she looked back- “oh I didn't catch your name.”

“oh- it's Y/N.”

“Y/N… Nice name,” Billie hummed before she walked out, the bell ringing softly of her exit. you stood there in silence before quickly picking up your phone and speed dialing Amber's number.

“Amber-HOLY SHIT YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED-”

(uh I make this a 2 parter if it does well :3)

#billie eilish #Billie #Fanfic #billie eilish x reader #reader #female reader #uhhhhh #i suck at tags

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venomwrites · 2 days ago

Text

Warnings: Spoilers

Her mail is full of threats.

It’s sorted for safety, but then it winds up on her table. Pain filled accusation. She should have died instead, how the blade should have gone to her neck not her eye. Jinx should have killed her. How could she do what she did. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. She reads about people’s loved ones who sacrificed themselves. Sometimes people give their names. Most of the time they don’t.

Caitlyn reads them all.

She learns about people’s families. Friends. Their darkest desires. How they would kill her. She drinks the poison with her remaining eye. When it starts to throb she uses the drops the doctor gave her and keeps reading. She got these people killed. She can at least know them. When they name themselves she adds them to the list. She makes sure they get their dispensations from the funds and repairs are seen to. Piltover will take care of all its citizens. She will make sure of that.

After an hour the threats start to bled together but she pushes past it as best she can. She cannot let these people’s pain blend together like that. They deserve so much more, but she can give them that at least. She is about to take a break when the violent blue ink peaks out at her.

Everything goes still as she extracts the card.

She doesn’t recognize the place on the front. Somewhere with mountains capped in snow. The card is bordered in yellow. On the front someone has harshly crossed out bright letters. They peak through the ink. WISH YOU WERE HERE. Caitlyn turns the card back to the side with the blue lettering.

SHE BETTER BE EATING.

Caitlyn nearly drops the card. There’s no return address. Hers is ‘the big kiramman house’ with nothing underneath it. There isn’t even a stamp. The handwriting is more precise than anything she’s seen from the bloody nailed girl. It’s like a child practicing their letters. Maybe that’s exactly what it is.

Caitlyn lets out a breath. It’s plausible, they never found a body. Something occurs to Caitlyn and she begins to sort through the letters. Silently she apologizes to every one she pushes aside. She will come back to them. But her mail is delayed. There’s too much of it to sort through daily. So maybe—

Another flash of blue.

A cityscape this time with strange, alien buildings.

Wish you were (NOT) here.

TRY HUMMING TO HER IF SHE CAN’T SLEEP

Pink, this time pink. A river with grey animals hopping merrily by. The sun is setting. No wishes decorate the front.

SHE HATES THE DARK

Blue ink with a blue card. An endless sky dotted with airships. Two figures have been drawn on the front, holding hands in one.

SWEETS ARE HER FAVORITE

The last is a pink one to go with a wide red desert. Puffy blue clouds dot the sky. Instead of a message there’s a chart. A family tree. Vi’s name is connected to hers with a long line.

She traces the line with her finger and feels the indent carved into the bottom. The others all have it too. Each card has a secret. She grabs a pencil and drags it lightly along the bottom, adding graphite to the ridges and revealing the words.

REMIND

HER

I’M

ALWAYS

THERE

Caitlyn’s throat tightens. Jinx doesn’t ask her not to tell. Caitlyn is eternally grateful. They both know she can’t do that but it would feel wrong somehow to go against a request like that. Jinx has sent her the cards. Caitlyn can imagine her thinking this was the right decision. A clean break. She thought she was doing the right thing.

Vi is curled up in her bed. Caitlyn wishes she could have made it her bed under any other circumstances. She’s seen Vi sleep for weeks, bleed out, cry until she vomits—all in this bed. Every time Caitlyn sees her in it she wants to scream. Wants to drag her out of this room and to her bed. Where things were better, where things made sense. But Vi just curls tighter and ignores her when she tries to speak.

It’s anything but a clean break.

“Vi,” she says, announcing herself to the lump in the bed. Vi’s shoulders stiffen which is as much of a reaction as Caitlyn gets from her these days, “these came for me,” she continues, “I think you should read them.”

Vi turns away in refusal towards the darkness of the room. She’s got the curtains on one side of the bed closed. It lets in light and gives people access, but it also sends the clear message she doesn’t want to be bothered. All one would have to do is open the curtains on the other side. No-one dares. Caitlyn perches on the side of the bed.

Caitlyn is not a music person.

She has no idea what to hum.

But she does.

Grey eyes miserably turn towards her as Caitlyn tries to remember anything resembling a tune. Her parents tried to make her take music lessons but she was never good at them. Still she forces herself to keep going as skepticism seems to cut through even Vi’s stupor. Vi’s lips are pulled into a frown as she stares at her, slowly easing from her side to her back. The most life Caitlyn has seen in her.

“That was awful, Cupcake,” Vi mumbles, “if I read those will you never do that again?”

Caitlyn could care less as she nods and hands the cards to Vi. She pulls the first one from her bad hand, turns it over and bolts upright so fast it’s a miracle their heads don’t smack together. Vi shoves herself fully into the light.

“Where—“

“They arrived in the past week,” Caitlyn says, “I brought them as soon as I saw.”

Vi shuffles through them five times, turning each card over like she is missing something. Caitlyn is not expecting it when she throws off the sheet and gets to her feet. She kneels down and spreads the cards out, looking at them again like she must be missing something. Caitlyn eases herself down next to her.

“She’s alive,” Vi says numbly, “she’s alive and she’s—“ she shakes her head, “she said she was breaking the cycle. Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says.

“Can you find out?!” Vi demands. After having her be so still and quiet, the angry shout catches Caitlyn off guards, “this could be a copycat.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says slowly, “but I don’t think it is,” she motions to the hidden message, “she knew I would find that.”

Vi shudders as she stares at the cards. Caitlyn has never felt this useless in her entire life. She’s used to making things happen. But here she’s failing on all accounts. Only Jinx has been able to pull Vi out of her stupor. Caitlyn has tried and failed so many times. She looks at the graphite boxes. Her fingers pick up the one with the airship and her features twist.

“She said she was going to break the cycle,” Vi says, “how is this breaking the cycle?!” She smacks her good hand on the floor, “Cait where is she?!”

Her voice breaks desperately around the last word. Great, heaving sobs wrack her frame. Caitlyn just manages to get her so she doesn’t land on her shoulder when she crumples forward. She takes the post card out of her grip and laces their fingers together as Vi wails at the loss. It’s a cruel thing that Vi’s ghosts never stay dead. She never looses someone once. Caitlyn thought she knew grief when she buried her mother. But the wound has started to heal. Every time Vi gets a bit of healing, the wound is wrenched back open.

Caitlyn wants to promise they will find her, but she doesn’t know if that’s possible. They could date the cards, find the locations, but she knows Jinx will not be there. She will slip away again and the wound in Vi’s chest will rip open all over again. Vi is strong, so strong. But Caitlyn doesn’t know how many times she can bear this loss. Vi’s existed for weeks on nothing more than broth and nutrients. Her muscles are weak. She should not have this kind of strength. But she keeps sobbing. She sounds more like an animal than a person as she wails into Caitlyn’s embrace.

Caitlyn just folds herself around her, pushing the cards to the side so they won’t get damaged.

She expects Vi to go listless again. She knows she must be exhausted. But Vi pulls herself up painfully and wipes uselessly at her face. Most of her weight leans on Caitlyn. Caitlyn doesn’t care, she would bear all of Vi’s weight if she let her. She reaches out and touches the underside of Vi’s eye. The tears she wipes are immediately replaced but for a moment Vi leans into her palm.

“She loves you,” Caitlyn says, “this is her wanting you to make a life of your own.”

“I can’t do that without her,” Vi says, her voice wretched, “Cait she’s my sister.”

“I know,” Caitlyn says, “I know this isn’t fair to you,” the words are messy and she cannot find the right ones, “maybe one day she’ll see that,” she tries, “but she wants you to let her go.”

Vi looks like she is going to sob again, but there are no more tears left. Caitlyn sees the white knuckled fist she’s making in her lap. A stubborn refusal to follow Jinx’s request. Caitlyn goes on instinct and covers Vi’s hand. Vi makes a noise but doesn’t try to stop her as she pulls her fingers open and slots their hands together.

“Hold onto me,” she says.

Vi gives her the same gutted look. Caitlyn knows this isn’t fair. She’s put them in this position how many times. Me or Jinx. Choose. Despite her words in the cell she knows Jinx is woven into Vi’s heart. Maybe in some world there is no choice forced upon Vi. Maybe in some world this all works out differently. But here and now Jinx has taken the choice. She’s made it for them.

Vi lets out a harsh sound between a sob and a moan. But her fingers tighten on Caitlyn’s hand.

Caitlyn kisses the back of her knuckles and guides Vi’s arm over her shoulder. It’s a familiar position. No matter the wounds. Something goes automatic in Vi and she gets her feet under her as Caitlyn stands up. Vi looks down at the cards. It hasn’t been that long, the cards all arrived differently. If they are to be believed, Jinx has seen so many places already. Places she doubts anyone in the Undercity has gone.

“She wanted to see the world,” Vi says.

“She is,” Caitlyn assures her.

“I—“ Vi tightens her grip, “maybe you should just get the postcards for now,” Caitlyn looks at her, “will you tell me when you do?”

“Of course,” Caitlyn says, “the moment they arrive.”

Vi looks at her silently and then gives a jerky nod.

“Could you help me to the shower?” She asks finally.

Caitlyn smiles and nods.

The cards continue sporadically. Sometimes months will go by without them. Sometimes several arrive in a week. Caitlyn tells the Enforcers sorting her mail they are not a threat and should be given to her immediately. It’s difficult because sometimes copycats send blue letters, but Caitlyn learns the difference fairly quickly. Vi puts each one into a box before she cries over them. She treasures them, the only proof her sister is alive somewhere.

Until the box arrives.

For the first time it’s not addressed to Caitlyn.

“This is a bad idea,” the Enforcer says, “there’s gears in there—“

“Thank you,” Caitlyn tells him, “it’s alright.”

Vi goes stiff when she sees the unopened box. Her eyes widen when she realizes its addressed to her. She rips out a knife and cuts through the packaging before Caitlyn can mention what the scans have shown. There’s a dull click and fine glitter explodes from the box. Caitlyn is very glad she’s wearing her eyepatch as it coats everything in pink and blue. Vi looks back into the box, reaches in and pulls out an envelope. Inside there’s a blue gem and a card. Vi fingers the gem and offers Caitlyn the card. A smile is already pulling at her lips.

She turns the card over to see familiar mountains. This time the sentiment on front hasn’t been crossed out. It’s been underlined several times. Caitlyn looks at the back. On it is a bunch of numbers. After a moment she realizes its coordinates and a date range.

It’s an invitation.

#caitvi #arcane spoilers #caitlyn kiramman #vi #vi x cait #cait x vi #arcane #mentions of jinx #total fix-it fic #here you go

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afreakingdork · 21 hours ago

Note

I saw you were doing small requests if we proved we voted for Hassan/Mikey, so here's my proof! I was wondering if you could do something with Leo, since we don't see nearly enough Leo x readers out there. I was thinking maybe a best-friends to lovers thing where they keep trying to one up each other with playful flirtation, but it becomes real in the end, followed by a confession and a kiss? Xxx

Writing Request: Reader x Leo First Kiss 😘

Thank you kindly for doing your part! I hope you're enjoying all the content and please tell your friends! Let's push back in this comp!

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

We got some cutie all ages fluff down here, folks!

"And that's when you go in for the kiss!"

Leo had a fist to his lip's and nodded as if this conversation was of the utmost importance.

The random man in question who had approached you while you were hanging out with your best friend was none the wiser. You weren't sure where he had come from, but had interjected himself into your conversation without warning. He had some ripe opinions on romance that apparently couldn't wait for people he knew. Instead of running, Leo had been prompting him for the sake of it and sending you more and more exaggerated looks each time the man looked away.

"What about consent?" Leo asked.

The man reared for a moment before he thought which part. "At which part? We haven't gotten past first base."

"You gotta ask if you're going to kiss someone." Leo spoke with a firmness that you read as genuine.

"The mood!"

"Don't start." Leo shook his head.

"It ruins the mood." The man insisted.

"It does not." Leo waved him off for the first time.

"It does! You think your lady friend is going to still wanna smooch after you interrupt leaning in to ask permission!? That's not manly!"

"Manly, huh?" Leo's mask quirked with his brow. "Also, just lady friends?"

He glanced at you.

You chewed your lip and glanced away to not laugh.

"Ah, man friend, lady friend. Whatever friend! It doesn't matter!" The man huffed. "It's all the same in the eyes of love."

"Consent is hot, that's all I'm saying." Leo shrugged.

"Ah!" The man grunted and turned. "You don't get it! Oh! I bet they do!"

You both watched as the man jogged off at the next unsuspecting group of people.

"Well then!" Leo put his hands on his hips. "I never!"

He held the haughty pose until a giggle finally broke free from you and he slumped to your side.

"That was something." You told him.

"You know I really like conversations like that." Leo stuck a leg out to walk.

You followed his lead with solider-like attention. "Yeah? Seemed a bit like you were teasing him."

"Me!?" He gaped sarcastically at you before his features went lackadaisical. "Making something a gag is second nature. I really do I swear."

You thought for moment. "Okay... Why?"

"Why?" He digested the question and looked up at the buildings. "Let's see. People are interesting. They've got all these opinions and they're wild! Everyone is so different and they'll try to ask these questions about you, but they don't really want to know, but I do. Like I already know me; I want to know about them!"

It gave you pause and you thought back. In all the time you had known Leo, he had been like that. If you ever asked him something as simple as his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation around on you until you were matching shades in some sun room that you were going to retire in.

He made you feel like the center of the world and you loved him for it. He was bright and whip smart, but he also had an undeniable loneliness. He never let it get to him, but it made you want to get closer. You pushed to get his number after meeting him. You made sure to text him if a little too much time had gone by. You made future plans with him always included.

You became the best of friends before you even knew it.

Leo said yes to pretty much everything, even when his schedule was packed. it was his eagerness of companionship and just that he was generally a good friend, even if you found yourself mortified around him often. His wit and penchant for a bit meant that if you said the slightest thing wrong that he would hone in on it. It was further sharpened to a knife having had three brothers and because of it you had built a repertoire of inside jokes.

He was special and even just taking a walk with him on a day like today would be a highlight of your week.

"I see it." You eventually said.

"What'dyou think?"

"About what?" You glanced at him and the way the sunlight played on his barely shielded green skin.

"His pitch! That love guru's plan of attack. How to woo your lady, not lady friend."

A smile played on your lips. "Set the mood. Sure, that's good, but when's a mood, right? That's always a question."

"Exacty!" Leo threw a demonstrating hand to you. "Like is it being alone. We're alone right now?"

"Not really a mood?" You looked around.

"Should it be dark? They say those steak houses have romantic lightening when you can't even tell which fork your grabbing."

You laughed knowing what he'd say next.

"I'm telling you!" He pressed with the same knowledge. "They do it so they can give you lower cuts! That's why I always bust out the ole phone flashlight!"

"They do not!"

"I swear I ordered a rib eye but they served me flank. Flank!"

"The horror!"

"But yeah, okay so not the lights."

"Because I totally confirmed that."

"Okay, come here then."

You did so without hesitation.

"Okay, let me just..." He reached behind him to tug his hoodie off.

You watched on.

His chin caught. "Hold on." He squirmed to pull one arm through. "Hold!" It got trapped against the points of his plastron. "Wait, Wait!" His head disappeared down into the hole and you watched the blue fabric writhe.

There was no way he could see you, but when your hand came up to help he immediately scolded.

"Don't you dare! I've got this!"

You weren't sure if it was a bit or not, but that was Leo and he was nothing if not amusing.

"I got it!" In one hands to the ceiling move, his hoodie came off. "Check it!"

He flexed in his average looking t-shirt. "Very attractive."

"Thank you!" He told you with a point of his beak. "Alright, now cloud cover..."

He waved you over to a wall and you followed.

He looked you over a few times before he caged you in so he could hold the hoodie above both of you to block the light.

You stared at his red stripes in their proximity.

"Dark, how are we feeling?"

"Not really a mood."

"It's not a mood!" He cracked a grin. "We're already at the next factor."

"Oh?"

"Closeness. He said that thing about how both people realize they're a little too close and kissing is inevitable."

"Cause if that was true we would have kissed a bunch of times."

"Right?!" Leo clucked. "The Twister incident? That time I hit you with that little trashcan. Oh, oh! When you were demonstrating the banana thing and actually fell."

"That middle one..." You narrowed your eyes.

"An accident, I swear." He looked dire.

"I still think the banana was cause of the floor."

"Sure." Leo drew out the word.

You pinched the tail end of one of his stripes which also happened to be his cheeks.

He smiled all the more. "Alright then. Is that it? We've eliminated everything. Total bunk. That guy doesn't knowing a thing about romance."

"Yeah! Moods? Like what even is that?"

"Like cuddling on the couch?" Leo gagged.

"Running through the rain?" You added.

"Yeah, because I totally want to make out when I'm soggy!" His eyes rolled.

"Your clothes stick together!"

"You have to peel apart!" He shuddered and the hoodie shook as your umbrella.

You reached up on instinct to steady it right as one of the sleeves fell.

"Nice catch."

"Call me champ."

"No, I'm champ."

"You're champion."

"Your champion?" His mask waggled with his brow ridge.

"You can't count that! It was a bet."

"Oh yeah, what was last week when I got you that ice cream?"

"I was trying to be nice to you."

"Only trying?"

"You make it so easy."

"I do. I'm a great guy. Amazing friend. Easy on the eyes."

"The face of disaster. Person I would vote least likely to make a typo in front of because he will never let you live it down."

"I give you my life and my time!" He bemoaned.

"And I appreciate it."

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes. "Do you? You're just saying that. You totally said you were just saying that."

"No, you're the light of my life."

"In that voice? Maybe I'm the light from one of those nightlights that are automatic, like the kind that turn off as soon as you turn the real lights on."

You squared yourself and looked straight into his eyes.

He startled and gave you owlish attention.

"Leonardo Hamato. You are the most important thing to me. You appeared in my life and I made sure you were part of it and at some point you became someone I can't live without."

"Oh." The vowel popped out dull.

You were flooded with a wave of worry.

Had that been too much?

It was true.

You cared about Leo.

He made you laugh.

He made you smile.

He made you a priority.

You did the same with him.

It must have been all the romance talk.

He might have misconstrued the whole thing.

Certainly none of that meant anything more.

With the steam still trapped in your cheeks you met his eye.

He was staring the same intensity.

You shared it a little coy before you decided to face it head on.

You set your jaw and returned the full brunt of your certainty in the matter.

He blinked a single time. "Wanna make out?"

Your eyes went as wide as they could.

"Wait, that came out wrong!"

"Are you kidding me!?" You squawked.

"I said it was wrong! Let me-!"

"That's your idea of consent?!" You tugged the hoodie down.

Since he had his own hold on the fabric it pulled his arm.

Which pulled his shoulder.

Which pulled him closer.

You were inches away. "That guy was right! It does ruin a mood! 'Wanna make out?' Leo, what-?!"

He dropped a little lower and your heart spasmed.

He dipped down so he could look up at you through his lashes.

His gaze liquefied your insides on contact.

He held your gaze for a few calculated moments before he leaned up enough that the heat of his breath warmed your lips.

"I'm sorry. I meant, may I have the pleasure in kissing you?"

You closed the gap.

The hoodie dropped down around you for privacy.

You lost your vision and for a moment it was just you and him.

A tiny version of the world that you didn't mind.

Then, you parted.

Within the confines you heard the smack and felt the way your mouths were both open and ready for another.

"Like..." Leo licked his lips audibly. "Like that. You do it like that."

"If you tell me that was a bit I'm never talking to you again." You whined without an ounce of heat.

"I swear... Kiss on it?"

You tugged him right back to you and he smirked against you.

#me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rise leo #Leonardo Hamato #rottmnt leo x reader #leo x reader #rise leo x reader #rottmnt Leonardo #rottmnt leo #rally until the tally #request #writing request #requests open

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gretavanmoon · 3 days ago

Text

Keep Me In Your Back Pocket

Sam x Female Reader

6.6k words

+ Not sure if this is a one shot, a blurb, or just an extended thought, but. Enjoy an angsty little Sammy idea.

Warnings: Cursing, Yelling, Mention of Smoking & Drinking, Mention of Mental Manipulation/Abuse, Arguing, Mention of Sex.

“Alright, lay it on me.”

For the life of her, she never knew exactly what color she wanted her hair to be. It seemed like every month she was rolling the dice on something new, something fresh and vibrant that she’d never tried before. She loved it blonde, she loved it when it was a dark chestnut, even liked it the time she dyed it a bright scarlet with some kind of purple streaks. She was always changing it, always daring to be different and go against the grain of what all the other girls were into that season. Every single one of them suited her, though. As gorgeous and poignant as her features are, every different way she decided to style herself fit her perfectly.

“I love it,” I reassure her as she asks my opinion, knowing good and well that I’d admire her in any one of her decisions on changing up her appearance.

“Sam, you say that every time. It’s okay to have a little constructive criticism sometimes,” she scorns me with a playful scoff. “Give me your honest opinion. I can take it.”

My eyes travel to meet hers in the mirror as we both stand before it, the reflection showing my appearance as disheveled and worn, just as it always was when I’d let myself indulge too much the night before. My shirts have always stayed permanently wrinkled and unbuttoned, and my hair was always in a constant state of tangles, tied in a forgotten knot at the back of my head.

Her, though, as perfect as a shiny new thing just unwrapped and pulled from the box. Every single morning, every single night, every single ticking second of the day, she hardly ever looked like she was out of place. Naturally gorgeous, and she never even knew it.

She pulls her fingers through her locks, fluffing and tousling and deciding whether or not her newest color-switch decision was a good one.

"Y/N, I swear..." I reply, my hands coming up in front of my face to show my white-flag honesty.

“Ugh,” she groans, letting her fingers drift through it from her forehead and around to the sides, watching her reflection as the hair falls like feathers in front of her face. “Don’t do me any favors.”

“No, I promise. It looks really good on you. Every time you do this, it looks good. I wouldn’t lie to you, love.” And I’d swear to it. I’m not just trying to make her feel better.

She was like a sponge to her surroundings, soaking up her inspiration from the dust that lied on the bottom shelves of high bookcases, or from the color of a new spring bud on a flower bush in the park. She saw beauty in everything and lived with nearly no hate in her heart, much to my opposite. She’s expressive and confident, effortless but with the loudest sense of humor and style. Never settling on one facet of life, but living in the sense that she’s able to change it whenever she damn well pleases.

Mine and Y/N’s kinship goes back longer than I can remember. The ever-changing eras of our lives had been spent side-by-side since we were kids playing Kick the Can at the end of our neighborhood’s street, waiting for the street lights to come on to tell us when to run home for dinner.

I’d seen it all… Her first crush on the boy that sat behind her when we were in fifth grade, and her giddiness when he asked her to the winter dance. I’d seen her fail her driver’s license test four times before she finally passed, giving us both the freedom of inheriting her dad’s old beater flatbed and the open road. I helped her write the letter she wrote to her high school heartthrob, telling him that she no longer had the same feelings that she did when they’d first met. And I caught the subsequent tears that fell from her eyes as she listened to the horrific rumors he’d spread about her to the entirety of the school. I sat with her while she nervously opened her acceptance letter to college. Helped her surprise her parents with their twenty-fifth anniversary gift. I watched her fall in love with a man she met while she was pumping gas at a truckstop on her way home from a Black Sabbath show. And now, just as I always have, I’m helping her to understand the true beauty that she has always had as we stand before this mirror… Me in my pleated dark jeans, and her in her white dress and veil.

“I just… this hair color doesn’t suit me, it never has,” she argues, trying her best to pin back the bangs she’d begun to let grow out some time ago. “It makes me look older, washed-out, don’t you think?”

I sigh, running my hand over my face as we go over this round-and-round again, probably for the fiftieth time in our lives.

“Everything suits you, love,” I compliment her honestly, not brave enough to tell her that even though I’m standing behind her and encouraging her to notice her own beauty in her wedding gown, my heart and lungs are full of stones as the reality hits me that I’m not waiting for her at the altar, dressed in a tuxedo.

“Are you not happy with how it turned out?” I press.

I find it odd that instead of her embracing the newness of her copper-blonde strands that match perfectly with the color of the trim sewn onto her wedding dress, she’s instead criticizing it. It’s completely out of character for her. Normally, she’d be falling into the boost in confidence her new color has given her. But today…

“No, it’s great it’s just… not me,” she argues. “It’s what Bobby wanted. Said he likes me best with this shade. Says it brings out the real ‘housewife’ side of my features.”

I physically can’t help the grimace that paints my face as it contorts into confusion. “Y/N, how the fuck does a hair color reflect how you choose to run a household?”

“Shhtt, Samuel. We’re in a church for god’s sake!” she turns and hits me across the arm as I roll my eyes at her pretending to care. She turns, careful not to step on the long train of her dress as she makes her way toward me, and away from the mirror. “Sammy this… This is my natural hair color. Close to it, at least."

“Oh…” I murmur, somehow only now realizing that I in fact have never really seen her with her real, actual hair color. Not since we were young kids, anyway, when my memory begins to turn to fuzz.

“He says he loves me just the way I am, that I don’t need anything extra to make me look beautiful,” she goes on, her face falling just a bit as her eyebrows turn down. She stays quiet as she avoids my eyes, and she knows that it won’t take much for me to become argumentative. It’s easy to do, these days.

At the risk of me making her mad on her wedding day, I stuff my sullied hands into my pockets, finding a wire nut and a few pennies at the bottoms to fidget with. “That may be true, love, but… is that what you want? You’ve always expressed yourself with all these wild hair colors… crazy makeup and outfits and whatnot.”

It was true, her means of expressing herself were sometimes a little unprecedented in the grand scheme of things, but that’s exactly what always made her stand out to me. Besides the fact that I’ve been in her life for the past seventeen years, and the fact that I’m madly and incredibly in love with her.

“Yeah, I know… It doesn’t feel right to me, but. If it’s what Bobby wants–”

“Is that why you aren’t wearing hardly any blush on your cheeks? And you don’t have your fingernails painted, and your fingers aren’t dripping with all that silver you’ve collected over the years?” I grab her left hand, yanking it up close to my face to eye the small shiny diamond that now adorns her ring finger. From her betrothed… as her mother called him. Hell, the guy can’t even shoot Jack Daniels without a goddamned chaser let alone notice that the woman he’s to marry has laid down her entire life for him.

She rips her hand from mine, jerking and forceful as I look back at her face. Striking as ever, even when completely devoid of any fancy eyeliner or powder, or whatever the stuff is.

“Where’s that sparkly lip stuff you’ve worn every single day for the past ten years? Hm? And that necklace that you never take off because it’s bad luck…” My voice is rising now as she turns her back to me. “Fuck, Y/N, even your dress… You never wanted to wear white! Your dream wedding dress, what was it you always said, ‘I’ll never wear white in my wedding, simply because society tells me I have to!’”

“Stop, Sam! Just… Stop!” she yells, turning to face me now with rage emanating from her.

My jaw is clenched as my hands have long abandoned my pockets, rising into the air now as my voice continues to rise with them.

“Stop what, Y/N?!”

“Stop being so goddamned honest with me all the time!” she yells.

I scoff. “You just told me to not do you any favors, this is me not doing you any favors! Exactly like you asked!” I bicker. If there's one thing Y/N and I are good at, it's arguing.

“Ugh, do you know how easy it is to lie to someone?! How easy it is to sugarcoat reality to make it a little easier for them to digest?”

“What in the fuck are you talking about, Y/N?” I ask, straining my voice.

She’s got tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and her voice is nearly as loud as mine. I halfway want to take this outside, pull a cigarette from my pocket and keep going so that the entire church can’t listen in, but I really don’t fucking care at this point. It feels like something is brewing.

“I’m saying it’s okay to lie to people sometimes, Sam! To make them feel a little bit better about their situations, okay?”

“Why in the hell would I lie to you, Y/N?” I retort, stepping closer toward her. She folds her arms over her chest in what looks to be self-preservation. “I’ve never fuckin’ lied to you, in almost twenty years, I’ve never once not been honest!”

She’s silent as we both begin panting through our rage, having trouble holding our tongues back from what we really want to say, simply because it’s her wedding day.

But then, fuck it. “I’m not gonna stop being honest with you just because you’re marrying him,” I bite, tossing around the idea of whether or not I should keep it all to myself, for once.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why’d you say it like that?” she says, uncrossing her arms.

I think about it for a second, and normally, I’d throw my opinion of her fiance right in her face, no questions asked. But today… Today is a little different. And it hurts like hell to hold it back.

“Nothin’, Y/N,” I stammer, pulling the half-pack of cigarettes from my front shirt pocket. I waltz to the wall, taking a seat on an old wooden bench before sticking the unlit cigarette between my lips. I force it all down for the sake of her happiness, shoving my words into the deepest depths of my throat. I eye her heavily from across the room, and the tension is thick.

Before I know it her high-heeled feet are bounding across the hardwood floor, right toward me. “No, not nothin’, Samuel.” She rips the cigarette from my lips and breaks it right in half, dropping the remnants to the floor.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy, woman?” I exclaim, bending down to clean up the mess of filter and tobacco from the floor.

“Damnit, answer me, Sam,” she begins to plead as I’m now face to face with her chest, and all the bright white material of her otherwise very bland wedding dress, for her taste at least. But again, I’d never tell her that. “Be a man, answer me and tell me how you really feel,” she demands.

I can feel some new type of energy radiating from her, something that I’ve not felt from her before. And it’s then that I begin to suspect that her pleas are loaded with some other type of emotion.

I clench my jaw and stand quickly, letting the cigarette pieces fall from my hand and back onto the floor.

“Fine, you really want me to tell you how I feel? Then I will, fuck it,” I yell. She doesn’t back down, and now I’m towering over her, watching as her cheeks redden with madness and the tears sit still, glimmering as she refuses to let them fall. “He’s awful for you, Y/N. He ain’t you. He doesn’t deserve you. Every single thing about you has changed since you got with him. He’s made you into his goddamned puppet. His fuckin’ arm candy. Stripped you of everything that you love. Everything that makes you happy–”

“He makes me happy, Sam! Don’t you see that?” she cries, finally letting one tear fall. “Just because he–”

“Does he, Y/N? Are you sure? Or are you just lyin’ to yourself because it’s what you think you want?” I go on, letting the words I’ve kept holed up fly freely. We’re quiet for a beat before I take another breath and speak again. “He gave you the big house, the boat, the money… the status… The last name that will get you whatever you fuckin’ want in this town. And look at you now. You’re a shell of yourself, Y/N. You ain’t even you anymore. You haven’t been you in a long time, and I’m just the bravest son of a bitch to tell you.”

Her nostrils flare as she crosses her arms again, her eyes flitting from the floor to me, and back. “This goes a lot deeper than him not wanting you to be you, doesn’t it, Y/N?” I ask genuinely.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Sam,” she says through a choked sob.

“Then tell me, Y/N! Enlighten me. ‘Cause god knows you haven’t talked to me the same in months, now. Hell, I didn’t even know about this wedding until four fuckin’ days ago…” I go on, the sting of learning about it still hitting me right in the chest. I wasn’t even going to come, but…

She shrugs her shoulders. “He just, he gets me, ya know? He’s sweet to me, buys me nice things, takes me on vacations. His family loves me, tells me he wants to start our own family as soon as we can.”

“A family?!” I practically yell in her face. “Y/N, you don’t want kids, you never have!”

“I didn’t, Sam, until I–” she swallows her words, stopping to wipe the wetness from her face. In any other instance, I’d be working hard to catch them before they ruined the mascara and shadow she spent an hour on, but she doesn’t have a stitch of anything on her face to worry about.

“Until you what?”

I watch as her bottom lip trembles, her body a shaking mess as she lets herself fall onto the bench I’d just stood from. Her eyes shoot down and her shoulders fall; the once vibrant, radiant woman I knew that had a lust for life and an enviable outlook on the world now presents herself as someone who hasn’t seen the light of day in years. Someone who is skittish, unsure, and unconfident. Someone who lives under the thumb of a man who imposes such harsh reverse psychology on her that she doesn’t even see herself changing into something that she wasn’t born to be.

“Until I saw you holding Jenny Watson’s baby boy,” she croaks, anxiously rubbing her hands together.

What?

“What do you mean, Y/N?” I ask, my voice monotone as my thoughts begin to race. I slowly walk back over, and take my seat again on the bench beside her.

She inhales with a harsh sniffle, clearing the still-falling tears away as she tries to get them to stop. It takes her a second, but she looks at me.

“Until I saw you. Holding him. It… I dunno. Made some kinda weird switch go off in my head like, maybe… They aren’t so bad, after all,” she says, crossing one leg up underneath herself. “Like if you can be so natural with one, maybe I can be too.”

I’m left stunned. Hell, I hardly even remember holding that baby at our class reunion just six months ago. The kid was cute, and reached out for me. I couldn’t say no.

“Me?” I whisper, still feeling confused.

“Yeah, fuck. Don’t flatter yourself. Ok? It was sweet, and cute… And… made me change my mind a little,” she says. “Made me think that maybe with him, I could do it.”

Her words nearly cut me in two. With him.

“But the making them part is what’s got me worried,” she admits, throwing me for a loop again.

“Worried? Why?”

She shrugs again, and I realize I’m slowly breaking through the barrier that she’s put up between us for so long now. She’s opening up to me, just like she always did. But still yet, she can’t find the words.

I search her face as she licks her lips, kneading her hands together again as she searches for the words. Sometimes I think that I can read her mind, but as of late, it’s as though she’s a prisoner to it. I keep my eyes trained on her as she starts and stops her sentences, biting them back as if she can’t admit anything at all. Finally, it clicks.

“Don’t tell me that son of a bitch don’t treat you right in the bedroom, too. For fuck’s sake… he’s a spoiled brat and he can’t fuck?! Wow, Y/N, you really hit the jackpot!” I couldn’t stop myself.

“Oh don’t you even fucking go there, Samuel, I swear to god.”

“Go where, Y/N? To the truth? Is that not what you’re trying to say to me? That he doesn’t satisfy you?”

“Urgh, I know I shouldn’t have clued you in like that, now you’re just going to make it all worse!” she cries, resting her veiled, copper-blonde head against the aging wall of the church.

“Worse? When have I ever made anything worse for you, Y/N? For years, all I’ve ever tried to do was make you happy, be your friend. A shitty one, sometimes, but don’t sit here and tell me that I’ve ever been anything but good to you.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes as she cries, finally bringing her hands to her face to cover it. She’s an absolute mess on her wedding day, and it’s all because of me. And my stupid words. And my stupid honesty. Why did I have to go and fall in love with someone who I knew was too good for me? Someone who would never refer to me as anything but a good friend?

Truly, as degenerated of a person that I am, I’m still a million times better for her than the man she is supposed to marry. And suddenly, I’m wrought with guilt.

“Please stop crying, Y/N,” I beg her, quietly and gently bringing my hand to rest on her trembling arm. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. You’re getting married in fifteen minutes, you should be bursting at the seams with happiness, right now.”

She pulls the coverage of her hands away long enough to whisper a few words.

“I should be happy, but I’m not, am I?”

I can feel all the blood drain from my body and straight into the basement of the church, seeping through the crack and seams of the floor as it searches for somewhere else to be. Of course she trusts me to answer that for her. The one person who she knows will be nothing but brutally honest with her, no matter what the question is.

“I wouldn’t bet my last penny on it, love,” I whisper back, hoping that it doesn’t hurt her any further. “Just because it doesn’t take a lot for you to be happy doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be given the bare minimum of something real.”

She pulls her hands away from her face, her eyes blotched and swollen as she finally succumbs to her emotions, letting her arms wrap around my neck and her head rest in the crook of it.

Just like all the other times before.

“Why do you always know exactly what to say, Sam?” she says over another quiet whisper.

I shake my head as I wrap my arms around her waist, giving her the same hug that I have on so many other occasions like this.

“I don’t. I just say what I think. And hope that maybe you’ll listen to me, one day,” I chuckle a little as I feel her lips curl into a smile on the skin of my neck, making my cold heart feel just a little bit warmer.

“When was the last time you danced, Y/N? Like, really danced?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood a little.

She pulls away and shrugs, but she makes a point to let her fingers travel down the arms of my shirt, finally letting her hand fall overtop of mine. “I don’t know. Couldn’t tell you.”

“When was the last time you went to a gig? Or on those crazy long solo road trips you used to love… Or got your art featured in that showcase you used to frequent?” I ask. Again, she has no answer. I can feel my face fall in disappointment. This guy has really done a number on her.

“Are you still making your art?” I ask.

The look in her eyes is solemn… empty and lifeless as if she’s reminiscing on a lifetime ago.

She shakes her head. “No. Bobby says it’s silly and pointless to express myself like that. Makes too much of a mess in the house.”

I can’t help the scoff that leaves my mouth, and the subsequent eye roll. Does he even know who she is?!

“God, Y/N… next thing is you’re gonna tell me he made you get rid of Pepper.” Her beloved black lab has accompanied her through more of her life than I have. Her true best friend and one of the best dogs I’ve ever come in contact with.

But again, she’s quiet.

“You’re fucking kidding me, he made you–” I can’t even finish my sentence. That evil jackass made her ditch her dog?!

“He lives with my dad, now…” she says, rubbing a stray tear from under her eye. “Bobby doesn’t like dogs.”

I cup my hand around her temple, ignoring the position of her veil as I pull her to rest her head against my chest. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s the fuckin’ worst. And that makes me dislike him even more. You don’t take a woman’s dog away from her.”

“I miss him so much, Sammy,” she cries again.

“Where did my Y/N go?” My question is rhetoric, but true, all the same.

Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve learned more shitty things about this Bobby guy in the past twenty minutes than I have in the year that they’re been engaged. Fuck, all I came in here to do was tell her congratulations. Tell her I was happy for her, even though I was going to lie through my teeth. My best friend on the planet, the one person who I can fight to the death with, and make up the next minute like it was no big deal. Though we’re older now with lives and responsibilities, I still count on her to bring me back down to earth. I still miss her when we skip a few days of talking. I still yearn to feel her near me, search for her in my dreams, hope and pray that one day the universe will allow me to call her mine. The one that’s too good for me, the one that I would walk to the end of the earth for if I knew it would make her happy. I’ve never been a romantic man, but I sure as hell know a good woman when I see one. And I’ll be damned if I let someone dull her shine any further.

So I ask, for the first and final time, as I hear a commotion starting to gather in the chapel.

I take a deep breath and gather myself, taking her hands tightly in mine as I force myself to look her in the eye. “Tell me you’re happy, Y/N. Tell me you’re really fucking happy with him, and I’ll leave. I’ll go sit in the pew and watch you vow to keep him happy for the rest of your life. All the while knowing that you’re puttin’ on a fuckin’ show for everyone,” I grit with softness, knowing that time is running out. If I’m gonna get through to her, I have to do it now.

The look on her face sends a shot through my heart, and I feel my throat tighten. Her eyes are lifeless again, and the woman staring back at me isn’t the one that I know.

Just then a soft rap on the door interrupts us, and an older lady peeks her head through to find us. “Y/N, honey, it’s time,” she says softly, her eyes landing on me as I realize it’s her grandma.

“Ok Mamaw, thank you,” she says, wiping her face free of the dampness.

“Samuel, I didn’t expect to see you in here,” she coos quietly with a sweet smile.

“Afternoon Ms. Ellen, nice to see you again,” I say with a wave.

She looks behind her quickly, checking to see if anyone had followed her. When she knows she’s alone, she lets herself a little further into the room with us.

“I hope you’re in here telling my sweet Y/N all your long lost secrets before she’s an honest woman,” she says, folding her hands across her stomach. I’ve always loved this woman, the most picture-perfect cookie-cutter grandma with a virulent and exciting past. And, she sneaks and smokes cigarettes with me, sometimes.

“Ah, maybe a few,” I say as I let Y/N blot her face with a tissue in the mirror. I’ve always felt like Ms. Ellen has been on my team, knowing, or better yet, able to recognize the love that I wear on my sleeve for Y/N. Sometimes those folk just have a sixth sense when it comes to these things.

Ellen makes direct and intense eye contact with me before she mutters, “Doesn’t my granddaughter look beautiful in her dress?”

“Ah, yes,” I clear my throat, “she always looks beautiful.”

“Shame she didn’t even get to pick it out herself. Didn’t even get to try a few on to see what she might like,” Ellen says somberly. “Just had it handed to her by Bobby’s assistants.”

“Mamaw…” I hear the warning in Y/N’s voice.

“What, child? Just telling Sammy here that I’m so happy it ended up fitting you like a glove.” I give Ellen a reassuring smile as I stand from the bench, realizing that it must be my time to go.

Ellen turns and makes it to the door before she stops with her hand on the knob, taking a quick breath before she turns back to us.

“Do you remember when you two were little, just kiddos in elementary school, and you decided that the two of you were going to have a wedding in my backyard?” she says.

“Mamaw, shouldn’t you be finding your seat in the congregation?” Y/N warns her again, but it’s no use.

“You invited all your little neighborhood friends and asked me to help you hem your dress. A bright purple one, I believe it was. Little Sammy spent all day roaming through the neighbors’ landscaping and stealing the perfect flowers to make you a bouquet. Asked me to bake cookies for your guests. Caught all the fireflies in town and stuffed them into a mason jar so that when the sun went down, you’d still be able to see to walk through the grass.”

My chest warms at the fond memory of all those years ago, back when life wasn’t real and time didn’t exist. I steal a quick glance at Y/N, standing in the mirror again as she listens to her grandmother speak. “Sam came inside and started rummaging through my cabinets, stealing the twist-ties off my loaves of bread to fashion into rings… The cutest thing I ever saw…”

“The first time I ever kissed you,” I add, once again stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

I watch as Ellen’s face lights up with joy, and Y/N’s blushes with embarrassment. It was the first time, but it wasn’t the last. One drunken night after graduation, Y/N and I had climbed onto the roof of the old dry cleaner’s and played truth or dare. Of course, I dared her to kiss me on a whim. And by god, she didn’t hold back. It was fast and it was heavy, but I knew deep down that for her, it was all in fun.

Nothing ever went past that kiss that ended in nothing more than just a little intense drunken intimacy. Nothing except the feelings that I had for her grew tenfold, and never went away.

“Well, anyway,” Ellen breaks the silence. “I’ll be outside, sweetheart.” Ellen sneaked back through the creaky old door, giving me a look that said ‘Last chance, honey. Don’t let her get away.’

All I can hear in the room now is Y/N taking a deep cleansing breath, smoothing the dress out over her thighs as she straightens her veil. I catch her eyes in the mirror again, giving her one last look before I begin to make my way to the door.

“I kept that ring, you know,” she says, stopping me. “The bread tie one. I still have it.”

I turn back. “You do?”

“Mhm. In my jewelry box at home. I see it almost every day.” She’s walking toward me again, cleaning up her face and running her fingers along her tear lines.

“Why’d you keep it?” I ask.

“Because it meant a lot to me, reminded me how much you mean to me. And it reminds me to keep my promises, no matter how simple and pointless they are. They’re still important,” she goes on, biting her lips together every few words. “Do you remember what we promised that day, Sam?”

I shake my head, the memory a little fuzzy still. “Kind of…”

“We said that even though we might not marry each other when we’re grown ups, that we’d always look out for each other. Keep each other in check. And we promised to always stay connected, no matter what.”

I nod. “Simple as that…”

She smiles. “Simple as that.”

I fight a tear, myself, as I reach in my back pocket and pull out my wallet, fidgeting through the old, worn in pockets of it in search of what I know is there, buried away but not forgotten. Finally my finger lands on it, and I gently pull it from the narrow slot. I place it in the center of my free hand, tiny, blue, tattered and worn.

“You kept your ring, too,” Y/N says breathlessly.

“It’s survived three wallets and an accidental trip into the trash can. But, it made it,” I say, admiring the tiny item that I only see from time to time.

She walks closer to me, gently running her finger along it’s paper edges. “Sammy, I can’t believe you–”

“Don’t marry him, Y/N,” I blurt, the words escaping my mouth before I can even give them a second thought. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry him.”

“What?” her eyes bulge from her head as she stops in her tracks. It feels as though the entire world is standing still.

“I said don’t do it. Don’t lock yourself away for the rest of your life. Don’t be unhappy in a relationship with a man who won’t even let you have your dog,” I’m babbling now, my chest tight and my throat on fire. I don’t even care. I needed to do it, I have to say it.

“But, I–”

“There are no buts, here, Y/N. You still have a choice, and if what you say is true, we promised to look out for one another. This is me looking out for you,” I say.

She stares at me as her hands drop to the sides, her demeanor less than it has looked all day.

“That’s all I’m gonna say, Y/N. That’s all I needed to say.” I stuff the ring back into it’s place in my wallet before smoothing my hands over my hair. My breath begins to pick up and I feel my face getting hot. I turn again and head straight for the door, and I hear the music begin to echo off the walls of the church.

“Sam, wait–”

“You know it’s always been me, Y/N. And if it’s not me, then please, for the love of god, just don’t let it be him. Okay?” I say as my hand turns the knob. “Go in there and marry him, throw away everything that makes you happy, everything that brings you joy. Makes you you. Lie to him and yourself and to everyone in there…”

I feel thick, hot tears blurring my vision as I begin to lose composure from the adrenaline of what I’m saying and doing. I shouldn’t be doing this… But also, I absolutely should.

“But if not…” I raise my hands and let them fall back to slap my sides, nodding to her in a way that I know she will understand. The last look I got of the woman I just confessed my love to was one that will be etched into my brain for the rest of my life. For the first time in a long time, I saw hope in her eyes.

I dash out the back doors of the church and down the concrete steps, out onto the quiet street straight toward my motorcycle. I hear the music swelling inside, making me feel like I can’t afford another breath. I slip my helmet on and I check my watch, 4:59PM.

I straddle my bike and grab the handle bars, taking a glance every few seconds at the back door I had just burst through. My heart is pounding as I hear the processional music begin, and my hands are rough as I grip the handlebars. I turn the key, revving the engine to let her know that I’m out here, serious, and ready to take her away from it all…

My eyes dash again and again, willing the doors to open. “Come on, Y/N, don’t do this…”

My hands twist the bars, the calluses on my palms harshly rubbing against them as I grit my jaw side to side. The anxiety is almost worse out here than it is inside. “Come on, baby…”

It feels like an hour ticks by as the music inside swells and becomes louder, and the blood pumping through my veins strains harder and harder. My foot is bouncing nervously on the ground, ready to kick the stand at a moment’s notice. But deep down, I know I’d wait out here for her for a hundred years. I’d never stop waiting for her, until she told me to stop.

The organ music continues and starts from the beginning again, and it’s then that I realize, it’s still playing.

She isn’t walking down the aisle.

My eyes flit to the door again, and just as I catch sight of the evening sun brightening its golden glow onto the stained glass windows, the back door opens. Slowly, at first, just enough for me to tell it moved.

Fuck, she’s gonna run…

The door opens a little bit more, and I see the top of her head peek through the opening. I feel like my body is about to catch on fire as I realize she’s most definitely not where everyone is expecting her to be. She slips through the door, shutting it softly behind her as she finds me parked on the street, ready and waiting. I slide my helmet off to get a better look at her, and I swear every single ounce of breath is stolen from my lungs.

Her veil is gone, and her high heels are off, and she’s tumbling down the concrete steps through the yard, directly toward me. My breath hitches, I can’t fucking believe it. She’s gonna leave. I feel like I’m frozen in place as I watch her run to me, her hair flowing in the breeze behind her.

She’s glowing, rushed and anxious as she bounds barefoot through the mess of cars clogging up the street. My heart is thrumming from my ribcage, and I’m positive that I’ve never seen a sight more gorgeous in my entire life.

She’s coming… she’s really coming with me.

Finally she reaches me and the bike, her chest heaving with nerves and lost breath as I give her a surprised and pleading look. I open my mouth to speak, but I really don’t know what to say.

She rips the helmet from my hands and places it on her own head. “You gonna get me the fuck out of here Sam? Or am I gonna have to beg you?” she boasts with that old confidence she always used to have.

I laugh through my nose as she grabs onto my shoulders and hikes up her dress to straddle the back of the bike.

“I’d love to see you beg, love. But not today,” I reply, kicking the stand up with my right foot as we find our balance on the bike. Her arms wrap around my stomach as I take off, zipping through the mess of parked cars and straight toward the quickest way out of here.

“Where do you wanna go?” I ask her, turning my head just a little.

“Anywhere. Literally any place on earth that isn’t here,” she yells into my ear over the deafening sound of the engine.

I feel like I could speed up and ride straight into the sunset, and I’m positive that she wants to disappear just as badly as I want to. I feel the touch of her sweet lips land directly on the back of my neck, leaving a tiny peck there that nearly sends me into overdrive. I’m in such harsh disbelief. But moreso, I’m thankful.

Her lips travel from the back of my neck and around to my ear again as her arms squeeze me a little tighter. “Thank you, Sammy,” she mumbles, and I feel a warmness overtake my entire body. She has no idea that I’m the one that should be thanking her. We both let the sound of wedding bells fall into our memories, only concentrating now on the sounds of the motor running, and the tires rolling across the pavement.

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a1ecmcdowell · 13 hours ago

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bonnie!reader & clyde!dean - the name of the game, baby!

includes, crime :( but for the good of the people! the sexual tension is high but nothing ever gets done ab it sorry for the edging pt 2 soon tho

★ ˚⋆

times were tough these days. dean hadn't known a moment of peace from the very moment he decided that hunting wasn't doing shit for sustaining him, and, well... when he met you.

he'd made up his mind already that hunting was a deadend for him. as much as it killed him to think, it was. how could you keep up a job that didn't pay you, and expect to stay afloat? he wasn't.

it started with dining and dashing when he could, scrounging together the scraps of change and loose bills in his pockets for better things than something like a meal that he had to have or he'd die. putting money directly into corporate pockets when he'd then be out of a bed for the night was not something that he ever wanted to do.

until he met you. by chance, and by the threads of fate, you wound yourself around his heart and never let go.

he was finishing up the handful of fries on his plate, eyes drifting around the room as the waitresses moved to-and-fro. they hadn't stopped by him in a while, so he figured that he was either safe, or about to get approached and interrogated about another round of beer.

he'd take one, sure, but it'd be added to a tab he wasn't going to pay, so it was in their best interest to keep their noses out of his business.

one of the women catches his eye anyways, and she's making her way over with a noticeable sway of her hips and a swish to her long blonde hair, when-

the bell over the entrance door rings as the glass bursts open. in stumbles you, buttoning up the white blouse you wore without even looking up from it, loose and disheveled hair swaying in the burst of air your entrance caused.

you were beautiful, even in your mess, and even when your mouth opened to beg for forgiveness to a man behind the counter. "sorry! my car is shit, it wouldn't start, and-"

"louise has been covering your ass for thirty extra minutes," the man interrupts, his face stoic and unbreakable. "unpaid. don't apologize to me on your lack of punctuality, apologize to louise."

dean watches the whole exchange from his red-cushioned booth by the window, each second making his eyes narrow further. great. now he was getting a heart about stealing from this joint, just because of the way he now knew you girls were treated here. probably would have to cover his tab yourselves.

he sighs. they can't all be winners.

you're making your way over to him, and at first, with his fry smothered in a slurry of ketchup, he thinks you must be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and here he is, shoveling down fries like a starved man.

fry drops back onto the plate. the waitress who'd been on her way over to dean is halted by your worried little mouth running all over again. "louise-"

"fuck him. i don't mind a second of it." louise pats your forearm with her hand. "it's not even been busy. he's just a dick. this one's my last."

her free hand lifts to gesture at dean, and he again feels a flush of awareness when louise turns to him, and then follows you. your eyes nearly freeze him on the spot. big and bright. christ.

"no, it's okay, i've got him," you say, and the smile you give to him and then to her does freeze him, ice cold and solid in this shoddy little booth. "you just head on home, alright?"

dean at least tries to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. drops his head again, picks up that discarded fry from his plate.

"hi, sorry about that," you say around a frazzled sigh when you approach his table, and he can't help but bristle at how many apologies he's heard you utter in the last five minutes, all of them unnecessary. "anything i can getcha?"

he actually cannot stop looking at you. you missed a button three down from your collar, the shirt a bit crooked because of the slip. your nimble hands were in the process of tying your hair up and out of your face, flyaways dancing in the fluorescents of the diner like strands of glitter.

no, he wasn't planning on getting anything else. had cemented that idea the moment he decided he couldn't just steal from this place.

but the thought of asking for the check after only getting a few moments with you... wasn't going to fly for him.

dean lifts the empty glass bottle from the edge of his table. "just another one of these, sugar."

your lips curl something wicked, and he doesn't know why, but he knows that he feels like a teenage boy again, with the way his heart flutters at the sight. "that it?"

"yeah, that's it," and you really are a little minx, not as innocent as the act you give to your boss and your coworkers, because he can almost see the fire brewing behind your eyes, "why, you got somethin' else you wanna give me?"

that usually gets him a flush, bright pink warmth on the faces of the waitresses he says it too. you, though, only seem to brighten at the question. fire stoked. "a piece of my mind, maybe."

"alright, so sit that pretty ass down and give it to me."

you seem taken aback by it for a second, your entire face warming to such a pretty pink. your eyes flit back to the kitchen, and then to the open space in the booth across from him, and slowly, you sink down into it.

"hit me, sugar," dean says, leaning back against the ruby red cushions, "give me a little piece of that mind."

"you were gonna steal, weren't you?" you say, so fast and quick that he's taken aback this time. "when lou was leavin'. you were bankin' on her back being turned."

dean resists the urge to whistle under his breath. what an odd little talent that is, catching crimes before they happen. "nah."

"'nah'," you mimic, and his eyebrows shoot up on his forehead, "i know your type. thinkin' you're some kind of robin hood, skippin' the dollar on big brother."

"i'm not going to, sugar," he insists, more firmly this time, feeling a little on edge by your blasé attitude. he'd expect someone so accurate in their assessments to already have him by the ear, leading him into the hands of the guys with cuffs. "can't make you pay for food you didn't eat, can i?"

"i can afford a beer and a plate of fries, babe," you shoot right back at him, a sickly sweet smile on those pretty pink lips of yours. "i can't afford to sit here and waste my time cracking jokes with a joke."

dean does whistle this time, a scoff of laughter falling from his mouth. "y'think i'm a joke, huh?"

"i think anyone who claims they're doing things to damn the man is." your arms fold over your chest, the blouse bunching up beneath your breasts and pushing them up just enough-- "hey. eyes up here." fuck. "that's exactly what i'm sayin'. all damn the man but you're still a tool."

"that mean you wanna use me?"

this little back and forth was the most fun dean had had in weeks. months, even, if he discredited the cheap nights with easy girls in dirty motel rooms.

"no," you stumble the words out, spluttering them out like they burn your tongue. "i don't even know your name."

"dean."

your eyes linger on his for a few moments longer, like you're trying to assess if this is another one of his lies. you must like what you see reflected back, though, because you smile, slow and languid. "dean."

the silence that follows is short-lived and buzzing. then, your lips part again. "were you really going to dine and dash?" a test. you don't sound mad, or like you're interested in turning him in at all.

his shoulders lift in a slight shrug. "that's just the name of the game, baby." he leans forward with his elbows resting on the rickety table between the two of you. "damn the man, right?"

one second passes, then two, and then you're snatching a fry from the plate in between you, dipping it in the pool of ketchup on the edge of his plate. "there are much more fun ways to damn the man."

notes, WEEEEEE i was gonna do fallen angel!dean first but something ab these two were STUCK in my head hope u dont mind

tags, @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @figthoughts @titsout4nicholas

(if u wanna be added to this btw / u are supposed to be and i keep forgetting pls know it's not a vendetta i am just a silly lil lady who doesn't know what she's doing ok)

#──★ ˙🍓 dahlia’s jrnl #──★ ˙🍉 dean x saga #jensen ackles #dean winchester #bonnie and clyde #bonnie!reader x clyde!dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #spn #supernatural #supernatural one shot #spn one shot

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colibrie · 2 days ago

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Trilo Fang AU: Ephemeral

Hey there! So as some may remember, the one and only @trilobitepunch (aka the trilo bug) bit during whumptober, and I wrote some snips for her fang au where a virus created by the GDF mutates Donnie and Leo into feral instinct driven hunters. If you haven't seen it, stop what you are doing and click the link below. I promise you, you will not want to miss out on it. Anyway, I ended up expanding the snip I wrote for wisp, and Trilo was kind enough to make a new illustration to go with it! So please join me in screaming about it!

"Okay Nardo," Mikey whispered, glancing furtively over his shoulder to ensure the others had not noticed his absence before dipping down to kneel before his brother and leader.

"I know you're still in there. The others are scared and getting tied up in facts and details and possibilities, cause that's what they do. But I know you, and I know Donnie. You're in there, and you're fighting to come home. So, I'm gonna help you, but you have to trust me. Okay?"

He ignored the low growl that rumbled from the sliders throat as he leaned in, and he forced down the urge to flinch back into his shell when those hazy predator eyes slowly opened and settled on his. He hummed his own soothing reply, careful to keep his movements slow and measured as he reached forward to place the tips of his fingers on the pressure points on Leo's jaw and temple.

"Just me Lee. Just Mikey. Nothing to be afraid of here. We're safe. We can relax..."

Like a motor winding down his big brothers growl slowly tapered away, head nodding forwarded into Mikey's hands as the corded muscles in his neck released some of their tension.

"That’s right. Okay, here we go," Mikey mumbled, closing his eyes and bowing his head as he turned inward to grasp the bright orange flames of his ninpo.

It sprang readily to him, swirling and singing with the protective warmth of a bonfire and the potential wrath of an inferno, ready and eager to receive direction. He took half a second to greet it, to hold it close and appreciate it for all it represented, before pushing it inward to seek that place where orange fire met and melded with protective red, electric purple, and brilliant blue. The place that tied him to his brothers.

Normally that connection was easy to find. Once they'd unlocked their mystic powers to face the Shredder, it had sat like a second heart in his chest, beating out a message of love and together and family that had quickly become as essential to his life as blinking or breathing. It had remained against the strife of Leo and Raphs endless fights and surged back stronger than ever after reawakening in the battle with the Krang. It had held him together after the portal to the prison dimension nearly took their hope, and it had soothed him in the wearisome months of recovery. It was there still, yet so far away. Disparate and disjointed, baren threads struggling to hold together colors that should have been an interlocked tapestry.

Red curled away, stubbornly holding silver-grey, green, and aquamarine back from the howling vortex blue and purple had become. The twins’ energies were erratic, feral beasts throwing themselves blindly at the boundaries of connection as they screamed. Pain and confusion beat against the rest of them like storm tossed waves, pushing them back, enforcing the veil of isolation that was choking off those remaining connecting threads.

That had to go.

Pulling his flames in close Mikey lunged forward, diving like a burning arrow towards the heart of the maelstrom.

Sensation slammed him from all angles. Sight, scent, taste, touch, it had all been dialed to a hundred, stabbing and shredding like knives across tender and exposed nerves. Relentless instincts shrieked discordant harmonies, drowning all else out in a mesh of contradicting demands.

Danger. Flee! Hunt. Fight. Claw. Kill. Bite! Bitebitebitebite!

"Leo!" Mikey shouted, shouldering through the deluge in search of a hint of the red eared slider he knew and loved.

For a frighteningly long time, there was nothing. No slip of sparkling laughter, no flash of quick and glib wit, no quiet glow of cunning insight. All that existed was the moan of the abyss that sucked them in, pulling greedily at Mikey's ninpo as though to unmoor him from the bonds that tied him to home. But Mikey would not bow. He had torn a hole through time and space to keep his family whole. He was the greatest mystical warrior the world would ever know. And even greater, he was their little brother. He knew how to make himself heard.

"LEONARDO!" He bellowed, channeling every ounce of Dr. Delicate Touch as he bared his teeth at the indigo storm, "GET YOUR MIND RIGHT AND ANSWER ME!"

His heart skipped as something flickered beyond the tempest walls, a wisp of brighter blue trying to alight. His ninpo blazed in response, marigold tendrils lashing out to cut Mikey a path through the chaos. He lunged forward to cradle the fragment in his cracked hands, pulling it close as the tendrils of his power swiftly wove together to form a shield that shut out the storm.

"Leo?!"

The wisp trembled in his grasp before slowly blossoming outward into the hazy outline of his older brother.

"Mi-key?"

"It's me Lee," Mikey assured, “I’m here."

"H-hurt..."

"I know, I felt it. I'm sorry, we're doing everything we can to fix things.”

"No…You?"

"Me? No, I’m not hurt. I'm fine. So are Raphie, Dad, April and CJ. We’re all okay."

Leo's ethereal eyes drifted close in stark relief, his form wavering dangerously.

"Hey! No no no, stay with me Leo," Mikey demanded, hands shooting out to try and stabilize him. "Listen, you and Donnie are sick. Donnie got infected with a virus when we were in that creepy government lab, and you got infected when he bit you. It’s messed with some genetic stuff that I don’t really get, but that’s what is hurting you. Draxum is here and he’s coming up with some kind of fancy serum to fight the virus and try to fix the genes it mutated, but you and Donnie have to come back to us."

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can! I’ll help you!”

"Ho-w?"

"I.... I'll get Raph and Dad! Maybe the three of us can pull you out!"

"Don-nie…."

"Of course we’ll help him too, duh."

"No. He's... he's deeper," Leo heaved, visibly fighting to pull his form together. "It's hard to... explain…I can’t think past it..."

"Yeah, well. Thinking has always been Donnie’s strong suit, not yours," Mikey replied, grinning in triumph as the hint of a smirk slipped across Leo's face.

"He’s...nerd."

"If it gets you both out of this, he can be king of the nerds. We just have to reach him."

He frowned when Leo failed to respond, reaching out to hesitantly touch his big brother’s face.

"Hey, come on man. Don't-"

"I can find him," Leo interrupted, ghostly hand rising to press against his plastron. "He's here...always here... if I follow him and... and you pull us back."

"That's risky Leon."

"Wh-hats new?"

"Heh, yeah. We be we?"

"Always Angellllll..."

A sudden wave of dizziness slammed into Mikey with the strength of Aprils baseball bat, vertigo nearly taking him out at the knees. Leo flinched as Mikey's barrier faltered, teeth gritted and grinding as the weight of maelstrom pressed in.

"Hang on!" Mikey demanded, huffing as he forced iron into his legs and more of his power into the barriers.

"You need to go."

"What?! No! I barely found you this time Leo. What if I come back and you’re gone for good?! What if you go too deep and I can't pull you out again?!"

"Tag."

"Huh?"

"Like...like your art. If y-you tag m-meee...with your ninpo..."

"Then I can follow it to you and Donnie! Like a beacon! Nardo, that's a brilliant plan!"

"Heh, s'not jus m'face that's pretty."

"Yeah," Mikey forced a chuckle around the knot swelling in his throat as the older twin’s voice grew tired and faint. Both his shield and Leo's form flickered again, accompanied by another wave of faintness that warned that what little time he had was almost up. His hands shook as he reached out and pressed his palm to Leo's plastron, gathering his ninpo to coat his fingers like paint. Three quick swipes later, a overlapping H and M was emblazoned in brilliant orange on his brothers scutes.

"Find D," he ordered, fighting back tears as he lunged forward to hug his brother. "Find him and hang on tight, because I am coming back with reinforcements. Hear me?"

"Yeah, big guy," Leo mumbled, his head falling forward to rest against Mikey's before the shield broke and his form dissolved once more. "See you later."

#rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmntfanart #angst fairy writes #trilosartstrikesagain #trilo fang au #help #I'm stuck in a mobius strip of inspiration #these two kill me #Do you know how bad it has to be for Leo to flat admit he can't do something?

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listentothelittlebird · 7 hours ago

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(wild life smp spoilers)

The first time, Grian takes a moment to realise it. After all, they had been hearing thunder for different reasons that day. In another life, the rumbling growl of the sky could have heralded the cheery tunes of the quizbot that, for all they were wary of its anger, had not been overly violent towards them.

In this life, the thunder that crackled right above his head was far louder, far longer. It nearly drowned out the explosion below him in its intensity, the cacophony of noise leaving his ears ringing even as the sound fades.

He thinks he screams his name out. With his hearing temporarily murky, he cannot quite tell. All he knows is that the stone crumbles under his touch as he falls, miraculously, back down into the tower. That his voice reverberates in his throat, in some hysterical replacement for a laugh. That just a moment later, soot and dust settles around him, coating Mumbo’s absent remains like a shroud.

It feels almost cruel when the sky lightens above him. Grian looks out towards the sunrise, bright orange bleeding colours along the horizon. Its rays throw their ruined tower into a spotlight, its crack-covered bricks casting shadows over the first final resting place.

The second time, Grian knows it before it happens. He hears the burst of wind, a sound that he is only just starting to recognise. It is nearly gentle, the pop of air that takes him down. At least he knows a death like this is instant, the moment that one hits the ground.

He knows it before the thunder even sounds. The acceptance is cold, like the wind as the blast dissipates around them, bitingly cold in the night.

They still have the minecart, spinning so rapidly it almost hurts his eyes to look, and they take aim and fire. No deaths befall them, but he watches them run with quiet vindication. It staves off the anger, for now.

He only gives himself a second to mourn, after he builds the gravestone that matches another. He digs down into the earth, further and further from the torch burning above him. There, in the darkness, he lets his tears fall. Then he stabs the dripstone into the ground, and begins his climb back to the surface.

#i really need a tagging system #wild life smp #traffic spoilers #wild life smp spoilers #life series spoilers #wild life spoilers #traffic smp #wild life smp drabble #grian

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serickswrites · 19 hours ago

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Lonely Place of Longing XV.V (The missing chapter)

Master list link here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

A/N: I took this chapter out because it made references to things I hadn't talked about in this story (but will in the prequel series!). And because I felt like it would have made the chapter after this one (and in the story's current iteration Chapter 16) less climactic--though it probably would have been pretty climactic with the cliff hanger in hindsight. It's a short one, so please enjoy. The final chapter will be out on its usual post day!

Warnings: physical violence, blood, knife, stabbing, wounds, referenced death, character death, mcd, unconsciousness, referenced heat injury

“You are sadly still so predictable,” Owen drawled as he grabbed for another knife from his bandolier of blades. He had slipped back into their native tongue. He had, Dylan realized, always spoken to Dylan in their mother tongue. Only when it was absolutely necessary did he use the language native to Patricanus.

And you haven’t changed either. “Does it matter? We both know how this ends, Owen. Give it up.” I will end you. I will rip you limb from limb. I will destroy you. You did this. You gave me no choice.

“Yes, it ends with me winning and imbuing your sweet paramour. Do you think she will be as monstrous as me? Or perhaps as monstrous as you?” Owen chuckled as he dodged another attack from Dylan.

Dylan and Owen continued to trade blows. Both weapons fought with their powers, Owen combining his attacks with his physical weapons. Their chests heaved as they panted. Neither had had a fight that required this much strength in nearly a decade. “Isn’t this lovely,” Owen said as he tossed a bent knife to the side before drawing another, “two of the most powerful beings in the world set to destroy one another.” He glanced over his shoulder at Halle. “Perhaps she will join our ranks soon.”

Hold on, sweetheart. I won’t let him hurt you. “Owen,” Dylan said as he raised his fist once more, “it doesn’t have to be this way. If you agree to stop, if you agree to come willingly—“

“You’ll what, kill me quickly? I’m not going to do that.” Owen released a large pulse of energy at Dylan. It missed Dylan by a wide margin, blasting a large hole in the wall behind him. Shouts of pain and alarm rang out.

Dylan gritted his teeth. His side pinched. He could feel blood leaking through his shirt and making his side slick. He didn’t dare check the wound. It doesn’t matter. It is minor. Minor pain. I have had worse. I need to stop him. I need to stop him from destroying everything. He knew he was burning through his vast reserve of energy. But most of all, Dylan hated the loss of innocent human life. “Do you care so little for your minions you would kill them to hurt me?”

Owen smirked. “Yes, wouldn’t you?” Owen sent another energy blast at the wall, vaporizing the scattering men. “That’s what they are for. They are weak. We are strong. We can destroy everything.”

“You cannot do this, Owen. You cannot destroy everything. Think of what we could rebuild. Think of all the lives we could save.” Please. Please don’t make me do this. I…I don’t want to. Dylan realized with a pang of guilt. As much as he hated what Owen had done, as much as he hated the destruction and waste of life, he didn’t hate Owen. And killing Owen would kill a part of him. Please, we were friends once. We can still be friends. Please, don’t make me kill you.

“I can. And I will. Because I can. And because I want to.” Owen lunged towards Dylan again, his knife flashing bright. Dylan easily dodged Owen’s attack once more, but realized his mistake when Owen charged towards Halle.

“No!” Dylan surged forward, realizing too late, this was exactly what Owen wanted. Owen stabbed the knife up and into Dylan’s gut, burying it to the hilt. Dylan tried to breathe through the pain as Owen rode his body to the ground.

“Like I said, Dylan,” Owen ripped the knife up and through Dylan’s body until he hit bone. Dylan gasped through the pain, “so predictable.”

“Owen,” Dylan hissed as he felt Owen rip the knife from his gut. “Owen, please,” he said. “Owen, ahh—“ Dylan cried out as Owen shoved his hand into the wound. His world whited out with pain as Owen wormed his fingers into the wound on his side.

“There, that’s it. Yes, you are where I always planned for you to be, Dylan.” Owen’s face was inches from Dylan’s. “I have been waiting for this moment.”

“Owen, I’m sorry,” Dylan whispered. I cannot let you do this. I cannot let you win. If you win, the world burns. If you win, she dies. I cannot let that happen.

Owen froze. “What are you sorry for? Wounding me?” Owen wriggled his fingers deeper into the wound. Dylan cried out with pain. “What’s the best way and only surefire way to kill a weapon?”

Dylan gritted his teeth. I don’t want to do this. But you are leaving me no choice. Please, Owen. “Owen—“

“That’s right, you destroy the heart. A head shot will probably kill them, but not always. But the heart? The heart is the only way. I’m going to rip your heart apart, Dylan. And then I’m going to wake up your love so she can see your corpse as I turn her.” Owen twisted his arm, shoving it further into Dylan’s body. “I’ll reach your heart either through your belly or through your side. It doesn’t matter. I will have your heart. I will win.”

Destroy their heart. This is the only way. I’m sorry, Owen. I’m sorry this is what it came to. You left me no choice. “Killing me won’t bring them, any of them back. Killing me won’t bring her back.”

Owen froze. Dylan continued. “Killing me won’t change what happened. Killing me won’t bring—“

“You don’t get to say her name. You don’t get to say anything about any of them. And yes, killing you won’t bring them back. But it will make me happier.”

Dylan closed his eyes tight against the sting of tears. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I tried. You left me no other way. I would have found another way. You left me no choice, Owen. Dylan raised his shaking left hand to touch Owen’s chest as Owen tried to dig further and further, searching for Dylan’s heart. He didn’t even notice when Dylan touched his shredded shirt. “I am sorry,” Dylan whispered as he unleashed his power. “I am truly sorry, Owen,” he said to the red mist that filled the air.

You’re free now. Free from pain. Free from all of this. Free from suffering. I am sorry. Fare well, my friend. May the next life treat you better.

Dylan lay in the growing pool of blood for a moment longer, slowly trying to take stock of his injuries. He had worse pain. But he knew it had to be bad. It didn’t matter. He had to get to Halle. Sweetheart. I’m coming. Hold on. I love you. I love you. I love you.

With a stifled howl of pain, Dylan rolled onto his uninjured side and slowly tried to stand up. He pressed his hand to his gut as he rose on shaking legs, gasping with pain as every muscle protested the movement. He couldn’t stop. He had to keep going. He took two tentative steps on shaking legs. Good enough. I can get us out of here. I’m coming, sweetheart. Hold on.

Halle lay where she had fallen after her head struck the wall. She hadn’t moved during his entire fight with Owen. Please, be ok. You have to be ok. Dylan stumbled over to Halle, collapsing to his knees, relieved to see she was alive.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Dylan said as he braced himself. Carefully Dylan lifted her, stumbling slightly as he tried to get his balance. Though Halle was petite, he struggled to carry her. He knew his wounds were much worse than he initially thought as he struggled to balance. “I’ll get us to the team. They’ll look after you. Just hold on.”

Halle hung limply in his arms, her limbs swaying with his staggering. The room spun around him. No. Just a bit farther. Just a bit longer. Dylan refused to give up, refused to let his body give out. She needs help. I have to get her to help. Hold on, sweetheart. I have you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Dylan only managed to get a few steps before his legs gave out completely. He didn't have the energy to get back up, to carry her and go forward. “Oh,” he sighed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Halle. I can’t. You’re going to have to walk out of here. I….I can’t carry you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I…Please wake up soon. Please be ok.”

He held Halle tightly in his arms. He rubbed gentle circles on her back. Dark spots flecked his vision. He shook his head. Come on, sweetheart. You have to be ok. I am alive because you are alive.You have to be alive. I love you. I love you. I love you.

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