#Wanderer: (suppresses his trauma)

[kazeokami]

Wanderer did not often sleep - he had no need to, and as such it served no purpose. Even so, every now and then he would engage in it for pleasure - like eating; and tonight he decided he wanted to sleep. Dreams, fragmented and fractured memories swirled in his head, and he woke, startled and cheeks wet.

Ah.

When his memories had returned, he'd simply shoved them to the back of his mind as hard as he could - the past was over and done with, what good was there to dwell on it?? But ignoring things didn't simply make them go away. He knew that, he knew that, so why did he - though he has no need to breathe, his chest heaves with emotion and he puts a hand to his temple, distressed. He's alone, and no one will find him here. .so for the first time in decades, Wanderer allows himself to cry properly- it feels wrong and it gives him uncomfortable shivers and he feels weak, BROKEN, hollow (just like him inside); but at least no one will see.

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.7k words]

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Chapter 8 "The Lie"

It’s been a journey.

Parched and starved, you’d been dragging your feet over the desolate wasteland deep into the night. The promise of a guesthouse only a mile or two away keeping your spirits up and your soreness to a minimum. Your head was still fuzzy with the trauma, as expected after taking such a brutal blow.

A pale coat of dust covers your boots, the blood has ceased oozing and now clings to your hair and skin like haunting war paint.

Cooper hadn’t said a peep about what had happened earlier, didn’t complain about you keeping his hand hostage either, just let you soak his glove in sweat while indulging in chain-smoking.

The lights coming from the inn are a beacon in the darkness, they slice through the shadow of the night, beckoning you with whispers of a bed and a full night of sleep. An exasperated sigh leaves you when you finally see it.

It was once a farmhouse. Large three-story mansion built of wood and reinforced by steel sheets only after the apocalypse. There’s a barn to the side, presumably turned into storage, a handful of soil beds from which vegetables are sprouting, a small herd of brahmin lay huddled in a corner, under a flimsy tin roof, sleeping in the remnants of a stable. A large rusty gate hugged by a sturdy fence, electric too once you were close enough to hear the distinct buzz. The generator rumbles behind a locked door in the ground, the basement if your speculations are correct.

It’s a fine establishment by today’s standards, well-known for offering respite for travelers because it was plopped in the middle of nowhere.

Regardless of the newfound relief, your pace stays the same, too achy and drained to rush towards the finish line. It’s a slow and agonizing walk, feels like an eternity, but as you climb the front porch steps you crack a smile. Your hand is promptly released and you take your usual place behind the ghoul, the medical folder still pinched under your armpit and looking like an old pancake.

The rich yellow hues shining through the dirty windows illuminate the creaky wooden boards beneath your shoes, the old benches on either end of the porch, and the large urns hosting a blooming tato plant each. There’s a mud-caked mat at the entrance and you can scarcely make out a “welcome” sign beneath all the grime.

Cooper spares you a glance over his shoulder, heavy-lidded eyes and husky tone indicating he’s just as exhausted as you.

“Don’ wander. No talkin’ t’ strangers.”

“Got it.” you nod, suppress the urge to hold onto his coat, and follow after him through the door.

You’re flooded with cigar smoke and the smell of spirit. Methodical chatter hangs in the air, mixing with the fluent jazz from the jukebox, random paintings are strewn across the walls, hiding the peeling wallpaper, some of the hanging lights are intact, some are missing their glass domes. Simple wooden chairs and circular tables, mostly vacant aside from a few rugged personas stuffed in the darker crooks of the establishment.

You take in everything under lowered lashes and caved-in shoulders.

It’s a cozy place, an oasis nestled along the road, a lovely little safehouse that welcomes any who have the caps.

The bar looks out of place, it’s too new and polished compared to everything else, dark oak shining under the soft glare of the old lightbulbs. A plethora of bottles are on display behind it, most of their labels scratched out or simply missing.

“Where’s Monique?” Cooper rests a palm against the counter and cocks his head to the female ghoul absentmindedly wiping at a glass with a stained rag.

“Holy Moly…”

You’re awestruck at the sight. She’s the second ghoul you’d ever seen and a woman at that. Despite the decomposition, she’s still retained her feminine features, one could even call her exotically beautiful. Donned in a full-body apron, a turquoise polo peaks under it; her eyes are sunken but lively, however the veiny red sclera makes you cringe. It just looks damn painful.

“Nice to see you too, Cooper.” she barks a laugh, her voice – distorted by radiation, but still cheery and friendly. “She went to bed so I took over. What’ll it be?”

“Got any rooms left?”

You’ve decided to focus on the hand-drawn menu hoisted above the liquor cabinet, scrunching your nose at the radroach skewers and cricket potato stew. There isn’t much that would suit your pallet, especially not the yao guai jerky. What even is a yao guai? Another overgrown bug?

The drinks have more variety than the food, even though most are alcohol. There’s still just plain water, specified as ‘mostly rad free’, then there’s tato and cactus juice. The options aren’t mouth-watering, but the drawings next to the headers are cute, some of them are even colored in.

“Got two, lucky for you.” she pauses then and the friendliness on her gaunt face gives way to confusion. She leans to the side as you step out of Cooper’s shadow to get a better view of the menu, her mouth shrinks out of its prickly smirk. “Oh, hello.” her curiosity quickly blossoms into sweet glee as she stares you down with startling warmth, then tosses the bounty hunter a passing comment. “Made a new friend, I see.”

You stiffen as the realization of her attention on you sinks in. Rolling your eyes to her, you find her beaming and you can’t help but return her welcoming smile with an awkward one. You fix your slouched posture, straighten up because first impressions are important, and give a polite nod.

“Mitzi, good to meet you. And you are?” she’s all giddy grins and wavy hands, finding you as a good treat after a long time of only having gruff wastelanders as customers. And you’re more than happy to humor her, she matches your character perfectly and you feel her filling up your energy levels instantly.

Your lips part as you fully intend to reciprocate her brightened mood.

“I’m – ”

“–An annoyance.” a dismissive scoff, one which has you shoot Cooper a nasty look. He’s indifferent, doesn’t bat an eye at you, instead nudges his chin at the untouched bourbon bottle. “I’ll take that one, room too, don’ care which one.”

Mitzie turns to reach for the bottle and sets it down next to the bounty hunter before sifting through the ledger hidden behind the counter. Keeping the privacy of her customers comes as a nice surprise. She mumbles something soft, supposedly checking the available rooms, then looks up at you.

“Shower or nah?”

“Excus – ” you blurt, then stop and suppress the need to ask for elaboration. “Shower.”

If she was alluding to the possibility of taking a proper bath, you’d cry. After months of rubbing soap into your sweat and using saliva to wash out toothpaste, you felt disgusting. Dirt had accumulated in places you didn’t even know existed and all of this excluded the greasy mess your hair had become. At times, you wanted to crawl out of your skin with how crusty you were.

And the stench was a whole other story you fought valiantly to ignore.

“Gotcha.” she hums and stuffs her hand into a jar before pulling out a large, rusted key and handing it to Cooper. “Master bedroom, second floor to the left.” her baby blues dart back to you. “Just so you know, showers cost extra.”

You hear the disgruntled groan and your expression sours.

Of all the things he dismissed to save up on caps, basic hygiene was one which you fiercely disagreed with. You’d already had this conversation multiple times, him walking around smelling like a dumpster fire with no regard for how that made him look was unacceptable. His clothes needed washing, he needed washing, and you’d scrub him clean if you didn’t know he’d stab you if you so much as tried to bring your soap bar anywhere near him. Both of you were in dire need of a proper bath. You’d work him into the idea, you’d already succeeded once when you were less acquainted.

With a sigh, you blindly pat the side of your backpack in search of the pocket holding your caps.

“How much?”

“Thirty per shower.” she answers simply, then perks up to holler at a behemoth of a man waving her over from the back of the bar. “I’ll be right there!”

“Deal.” you chirp and point at the menu. “And a cup of brahmin bone broth, please and thank you.”

“Right away.” Mitzi graces you with another cheeky smile before rushing past the counter and through a door to the kitchen.

You’re close enough for the smell of roasting meat and herbs to waft into your nose, your stomach twists with hunger and gargles in protest. You clear your throat in embarrassment, the jazz music does a wonderful job of disguising the ugly toon. A clatter of pots comes from behind the kitchen door followed by a meager slur of curses that has you hoping your order wasn’t the cause.

After gathering enough caps, you extend your arm to leave them next to the register. Your attempt is shot down by a sharp slap to the knuckles, you glance up at Cooper and prepare to debate why you should be allowed to wash up and spend the money for it. He snuffs out your bubbling protests with a stern look and a dismissive flick of his wrist.

Mitzi reappears shortly after with a tray in hand.

“Here you are.” she lays down a steaming tin can in front of you and scoots to the register, which is mostly used for decoration. “You want the total or separate tabs?” she scribbles down each of your amounts and lifts her eyes to Cooper.

“Total.” he gruffs out and litters the free space on the bar with scoops of caps fished out from his bandolier.

You have to bite down on your bottom lip to prevent a grin and tuck away your money. He definitely knew how to turn your legs to pudding and tie your tongue into submission. Sadly now that meant you couldn’t complain for at least a week.

“Hundred-fifty. Oh!” the waitress sloppily wraps a rag around your drink and squeezes it in place. “Here. I tend to forget smooth-skins have more delicate hands.” she winks at you and proceeds to gather up the payment, combing through it with a long bony finger and counting. “We’ll get to know each other another time.”

Once she was sure of the amount, Mitzi stuffs it all in the hefty pickle jar labeled ‘earnings’, then sealed it shut and stored it somewhere around her feet. She’s back to polishing shot glasses, gives both of you a ginger smile and nudges her head towards the staircase to the right of the counter.

“Enjoy your stay.”

You take the broth and let your fingers soak in the warmth as you follow behind Cooper with bated breath and a spring to your step.

A bed and a shower, you were being spoiled tonight. The covers and sheets are probably old, the room itself is most likely slowly rotting away and covered in grime and dust, but it’s heaven compared to sleeping on the ground with one eye open due to threats skulking about. The last time you’d managed to get a full night of sleep was back in Tillburry, and just the thought of being undisturbed had you going through a plethora of pleasant jitters.

You give the greasy drink, your dinner, a good sniff while climbing to the second floor.

It’s not an aroma that makes you salivate, but you’ve missed the luxury of warm food and the herbs do well at overpowering the stench of boiled beef. Even under the weak light in the corridor, you can tell it’s fatty enough to keep you sated for a while, it’ll have to do. The can is used as a cup for hot drinks, the broth came from elsewhere, either that or you were scammed into eating dog food judging by the peeling-off sticker of a poodle.

You thump over a long red carpet rolled out on the floor, squint at the hacked cough coming from one of the rooms, and then stop a foot away from the ghoul.

He jams the key in and after a deft click, the door creaks open.

Your refuge for the night isn’t as bad as you’d imagined. The bedding is mostly white minus a few stains, the wallpaper is torn a tad, but intact and it’s all relatively clean, there’s even a few trinkets lying about to bring more life. A wall clock is hung above the curved sofa next to the window, it’s not working but it is a nice touch. There’s a night lamp on one of the nightstands, a wide drawer, an ashtray on the table along with two more chairs in case there were more than two bodies in the room. There’s even a deck of cards next to the crystal alcohol glasses.

You watch Cooper set down the bourbon and slouch against the couch with a long exhale before shrugging off his hat and coat and letting his eyes shut for a moment.

“Darn hell, what a day…”

Safety is painted in his mannerisms, you smile adoringly at him and shut the door behind you.

True to her word, there indeed was a bathroom. You switch the lights on and peek inside. The tiles are cracked or missing, it’s old but clean and there’s a bottle of Rad-X among the diluted shampoo bottles. Lovely!

You hear a ripple and whirl your head to see the ghoul lighting a cigarette. His feet are perched up on the table and crossed, his bandolier thrown over the backrest of the sofa, he takes a long drag and strains to push open the window.

“You know Mitzi?” you ask and shed your backpack with a delighted moan before kneeling to zip it open. With your trusty Vaseline and a tiny vodka bottle in your free hand, you join him on the couch, sitting on the opposite end to give him as much space as possible.

“Hm? Sure I do, met some years ago.” he twists to partially face you and pinches the smoke between his lips before grabbing for the bourbon. “Thought you’d wash up first thing. Changed yer mind?”

You chuckle at that and dab the vodka into your palm before rubbing it between your fingers. It’s a mundane little habit you picked up since you learned vodka specifically was almost pure spirit nowadays. Considering the unthinkable things you touched on the hour, from blood to dirt and worse, and without a sink to wash your hands, you needed this at least before eating.

“I’ll shower later. Wanna take a breather first.” you cradle the broth to your chest and take another good whiff before sighing. “Plus, I’d like to drink this before it goes cold.”

“Hope you know tha’ ain’t all brahmin, Darlin’.”

“Let me stay ignorant, please.” you mumble before taking a long sip.

Cooper cackles but decides not to ruin your dinner. You watch him pour a glass of bourbon for himself, mull, and then pour a second one before setting it next to you.

“Mm?” you give him a crooked look, frown with scrunched eyebrows.

“Heavy broth goes good with booze.” he gestures for you to take the offer with a keen smirk. “ ‘Bout time we pop your cherry anyway.”

“Gosh, don’t call it that!” you hiss through a flustered face, but take the glass and ignore his mocking grin.

The jukebox can still be heard from the main floor, it calms your apprehension and you twirl in your spot to open the window fully, looking to the sky for further comfort. You’re intentionally stalling as you swish the bourbon around, elbows rested on the windowsill and gaze lifted to the cluster of stars. A chilly breeze caresses your bare shoulders and you shudder.

“Thought you’d get bored gawkin’ at nothing by now.” The ghoul spits, watching you like a hawk because he refuses to miss your first time trying alcohol. You wish he wasn’t, it adds unnecessary expectations and you’re unaware of how exactly you’re supposed to react. By the smell alone, you’re guessing it won’t taste pleasant.

“I’ll never get tired of the sky.” you muse out loud with an unreadable expression, then face him briefly. “Has it changed over the years?”

You don’t know how old he is, he’s refused to disclose that with you, but from the subtle hints in the past, it’s been longer than the average person. You wish he’s looser, that he trusts you enough to share more about who he is and where he comes from. He seems to know almost everyone you’ve crossed paths with, could work with any weapon and traversed the wasteland without a compass or map and still know exactly where he’s going.

“ ‘Sides the radstorms, not much.” he rolls his tongue over a mouthful of bourbon, then audibly swallows and scowls. He raises his glass towards you, waiting for you to mimic him. “ ‘Nough stallin’ ya pansy, it ain’t poison. Drink.”

Your nose is already wrinkled at the idea, but you oblige him by lifting the drink to your lips. Holding your breath you take a tiny sip and your skin explodes in goosebumps before the fire registers on your tongue. Your taste buds feel defiled, the foulness makes your eyes pop open and you spit before the urge to gag crawls too high up your throat.

First impression: No.

“Ugh…Ew!” a hand clasps over your mouth, obscuring both disbelief at the fact you’d spat straight against the window and pain at the utter nastiness of the flavor. You take the rag wrapped around your now lukewarm broth and wipe off the evidence with urgency. “How do you like this stuff? It’s awful!”

He’s cracking up a storm on the other end of the sofa, having burst into such an abrupt fit that half his drink was running down his vest. You sneer through a glare, hoping he catches your translucent reflection in the glass and feels at least a drop of remorse for your misfortune.

“Glad to make you laugh.”

He tries to say something, a snippy remark most likely, but his gullet is too dry and nothing comes out when his mouth parts. He washes down the hoarseness with another swig of alcohol and tries again.

“You’re doin’ it all wrong.” he’s all up in your beginner technique, even though you weren’t open to be taught how to become a proper alcoholic. Nasty habit that, but he’s given you no choice. “Gotta let it rest on yer tongue, enjoy the taste ‘n go slow.” he can see you sulking even with your back turned to him, can practically smell the discomfort and annoyance emanating from you.

He tones down the decibels when you refuse to face him. Unlike you, Cooper finds the concept of convincing you that drinking is a fun pastime activity strangely thrilling. That, and he’s a horrid old man who selfishly craves to claim all your first experiences, no matter what they are. It’s a vile desire and he’s aware, but the longer you exist in his presence the further his obsessive protectiveness develops. He chalked it up to you being dumb and defenseless, it was natural to become possessive of you and want to keep you safe.

He’d be caught dead before he let some mangy bastard touch you before him or be present for your first cigarette. And he’d take this revelation to the grave because he was too prideful to admit to his urges. This was for your protection, better him, a person you trusted, than anyone else.

“Come ‘ere.” he takes off his gloves and extends a hand to you, beckoning you in the softest way he can muster. “I’ll teach ya.”

You look back at him and the angry frustration simmers down to mild irritation when you notice he’s reaching for you. Tasting that nightmarish poison again makes you queasy, you don’t want to and you’re fussy, but falter for him once more with the intent of giving it another go and then never again.

He’s paid for your dinner, bed, and shower, it’s only fair to entertain his stupid ideas. That doesn’t mean you’re going to smile through the whole thing though, no, you’ll grimace until the end.

He shifts until his feet are firmly planted on the floor as you round the table.

“One last time.”

“Last time.” he repeats through a haggard breath and as soon as your fingers dip into his open palm he spreads his legs farther apart to accommodate a plan you were blissfully unaware of. “Promise, Sweet pea…”

He coaxes you closer, tugging on your hand until you’re standing between his legs, radiating confusion. Guilt prickles his heart, you don’t deserve to be manipulated into succumbing to his perverse advances. It wasn’t even a good lie. Teaching you how to enjoy bourbon…a load of horse shit, but what were the odds that you’d so pliantly let him desecrate you once the concussion and fatigue didn’t stand in the way of clear thinking?

You were vulnerable now and he was a fiend for taking advantage. He’d deal with the consequences later.

The concentration carving his expression is hidden under the guise of darkness as he gently lures you down until you’re hesitantly sitting on his thigh. An arm coils around your waist to keep you in place, you’re face to face and the ringing in your ears increases, completely deafening the music from downstairs. Blunt fingers melt into your supple flesh, deliberately massaging away the prolonged day. You’d had it rough today, poor little thing, you needed some good kneading.

He’d give it to you. Whatever the hell you wanted, you’d have it.

Rotten man. Defiler.

He shakes the thoughts away and feeds on the sugary lavender hints beneath the sweat clinging to your body.

You’re engulfed in warmth and finally, you can put a name to the ever-present musk he carries around – bourbon and cigarettes; the smell of home. Your hands are resting in your lap, pinching at your dress in a nervous tick as you fight to keep eye contact. Inexplicable tension writhes in the air, it chokes you with sadistic glee.

Cooper’s studying your features as they twist, searching for something specific in the involuntary muscle twitches.

“You don’ like it, you call quits. Got it?” he speaks softly, but with authority, already taking another sip and letting it rest in his mouth.

You’re no less lost than you were two minutes ago, left to wonder what he means because your glass is on the other side of the table. But now he’s mute with alcohol and unable to elaborate verbally so you simply nod in understanding.

“Got it.”

No cheeky smirks or mischief is dancing in his eyes. He’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him, it’s nerve-wracking, you’re left to blindly follow his guidance and you trust him, but anticipation has no boundaries. The bedroom turns stuffy and his once welcomed heat is forming sweat on your forehead and pinching at random nerves throughout your body.

He glides a hand to the back of your neck, holds it with solemn tenderness. You make a pathetic noise when he leans you back until you’re cradled in the safety of his arms without leverage, hovering above the sofa as he watches over you with a mellow look.

“Tha’s it…steady, Pretty girl.”

You’re rigid and hesitant in his embrace, don’t know what to do except give in and let him work you like a puppet. It’s humiliating, you want to be an active participant, give him what he wants without him having to hold your hand, but you can’t. The only soothing thought that comes to mind is that he’s a dominant man, he probably doesn’t mind.

Probably even likes it like this.

“This okay, Sweetheart?”

You barely register he’s asked a question, the gravel in his voice seizes your breath.

“Yeah…Yes?”

The ghoul is languid and gentle when he leans forward, taking his time, but you notice the twitch in his fingers, the hidden urgency behind the façade he’s adopted to not scare you away. But he’s still a rugged man, you can tell by the callouses on his palms and the leathery skin on his face as it rubs against yours.

It’s a peck at first, makes you tingle all over. He barely brushes his chapped lips against yours, testing the waters, and dulling your awareness with patience before he shatters and ruins your innocence. But you’re too enticing for your own good. You don’t startle; cling to his vest instead and shiver with a milky moan and his resolve cracks.

With a ravenous snarl, he squishes you against his chest when you offer no protests and the hands that held you are now clutching. He kisses you with a bruising need, changing into a brutish oaf as his tenderness fades. Your mouth opens in a gasp and he lets the bourbon seep past his teeth and ravage your taste buds. The flavor is the last thing on your mind as he devours you whole, a few droplets escape from the corner of your lips and trail down your jaw until they soak into your hairline. Starved of everything soft and sweet, he gorges and palps, litters you with clumsy bruises because he’s forgotten how to handle someone such as you.

He tilts his head to one side and his tongue glides past your teeth to twirl around yours, forcing you to open wide. His eyes are hidden behind squeezed lids, leaving him purposefully blind to your current expression. He didn’t want to see rejection, didn’t want to know if you were disgusted but too fearful to pull away. All he needed was just one moment of indulgence disguised as him teaching you to drink. Let him feast upon you for a bit and he will never touch you again afterward, he swears it.

It’s just to show you how to enjoy a good glass of alcohol.

But you weren’t stupid, you already knew this was all a charade. It’s agonizing when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and clutch at his back. You’re klutzy in your love, a shaking mess as you try to match his pace, but this is too new and with an absent mind, instinct can only tell you so much. Still, you fill his cavernous maw with high-tuned chirps of affection and you’re so pleased despite the uncertainty, you’re aching for him, you’re just as starved if not more.

Cooper wasn’t prepared for reciprocation, it leaves him boneless and barely holding you both steady.

You let your eyes close as well and guzzle down the remainder of the booze from his mouth. A strained growl reverberates in his throat as he cuts down the urge to buck into you. Too soon, not yet. He’s taken enough from you for one night.

You suck in a breath as your knees turn to jelly. Your thighs are quaking; he presses one hand against them to soothe you and earns a muffled mewl. It’s raw lightning, sparking over your skin and making your clothes feel so damn constricting. You’re clawing at your tights, scratching at his sleeves, turned feral with lust and lilting pleas in his chewed-up ear.

A clash of teeth and jerking tongues, muffled sounds of indulged wants and thinned nerves.

He’s intoxicating, gruff to the bone and you avidly drink in everything he offers.

“Greedy little thing…” he rasps over deep breaths once he’s pulled away enough to take in your possum-like state. “So how’d you like the bourbon?”

A dull ache forms in your core at his sweet derogatory coo. You bite the side of your cheek to stifle the vulgar rattle trying to escape the confines of your heaving chest.

He lifts you into a proper sitting position and readjusts your dress back over your legs because he’s a gentleman tonight.

You’re a mixture of labored inhalations and sputtered words, struggling to descend to normalcy and proper manners. It takes you a moment to find your voice, you speak before thinking, high on a newfound addiction – him and his taste and his smell and everything that had to do with him. The knots in your stomach ease, but you’re still absently fiddling with the straps of his vest while trying to regain composure.

“Can we…” you shrink as his heavy gaze makes your throat tighten, lower your eyes in bashfulness but your insides burn and you need that fire sated. It’s his fault you’re like this, him and his sinful vulgarities. “Can you show me again?”

He croons a laugh and bloats with pride, doesn’t even care to take a shot before he latches onto you again.

“Needy girl…So pretty f’ me.”

You’re the one with the lingering hands now, sigh in relief when he violates your mouth again as if being apart had been torture. Nimble fingers intrude on his spine, slipping beneath the loose collar of his shirt and mapping out the marred flesh like it’s a piece of art. He shudders in your hold, mouths something that gets lost among the vocal sloppiness emitting from your feverish kisses.

You’re too eager at the mixed saliva dribbling down your chin, too delighted when he pauses to lick it off and keep you partly decent as he suffocates on his passion. You cage him between your thighs like it’s only natural, nestle down on him because he’s your new throne and he shoves a hand between your bodies to adjust his straining erection before you find out how desperate he is. You’re too spread and willing, unaware of the debauchery your actions hint towards.

He’s a man gone wild beneath you, boiling and unchained and drinking in your wanton display. A blank canvas for you to paint whatever you wished on as you submit to cravings he’d unraveled. He was a perverse bastard, stole your first kiss and hadn’t even made it proper, but there was nothing right in this world anyway. You returned his advances, you were happy, the rest be damned.

You leave his scalding tongue and nipping teeth to pepper his bony face with butterfly pecks. He’s a silent enjoyer, lets you drown him now that you were unleashed, with a ghost of a smile and lazy blinks, mild and content. Time slips past in a blur until you’re finally satisfied, having pruned and memorized every inch of his face.

You’re studying his features while cupping his jaw when the haze fades and you register just how many lines you’d crossed. His hardness digs into your thigh and you wince because you’d climbed him like a mountain, sat on him like he was just a chair and not someone you held dear. You’d taken advantage of his docile form, oblivious to the fact that this was what he’d hoped for from the start. You’d treated him like a tool to cater to your horniness without ever considering how much strain you’d put on him.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he’d thought. No, that wasn’t it. You trusted him too much. Took his every word as fact.

Your heart is pounding and the trembling returns with twice the vigor as your serene smile dies.

“Oh my God…Jeez! I’m so sorry. Wait! I– ” you blabber while prying away with clumsy movements. You’re sure you’re about to have a heart attack and die on the spot.

What have you done?!

Why didn’t he stop you? Why did he look so high when you’d forced yourself on him without even asking for his consent? All he’d done was try to ease you into drinking and you’d thrown yourself at him like a…

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask you…Why didn’t you say – Sorry. I’m – ”

“Whoaw there, Cowgirl.” he springs to action, forced out of his delightful trance by the utter horror written in your eyes. He grips you before you manage to stand, coercing you in a bear hug. Opposite to your shaken state, he rounds up your skittishness with honeyed words and caring touches. “Easy now, Sweetness. All’s fine, easy…easy.”

He stuffs you in the crook of his neck as you sputter more apologies, nuzzles his cheek in your hair and coos. You’re inconsolable for a time, badmouthing yourself because you knew no better and it’s heartwrenching because it’s his fault for taking advantage of your trust. He rocks you into silence while chuckling, criminally unapologetic.

“Now if I didn’ want any o‘ this I would’a kicked you off long time ago. ‘S okay, Sweet pea, all’s fine.” he palms himself until you can’t feel the incessant poke anymore, the scowls at his meager self-control. “Damn thing got a mind of i’s own.”

You hum in response, whiney and weak. He snorts at your deflated mood, to think his boner would be the cause of worry is comical. He lets a jab slip to bait you out of the cesspool of self-bludgeoning you’d thrown yourself in. He could be truthful and lay out the entire farce before you, but that came with the change you’d never let him near you again. Cooper isn’t a good man, nor a truthful man and what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

“Now quit yer mopin’, you’re ruinin’ m’ shirt.”

It does the trick. You stiffen against him and choke because how dare he.

“Asshole!” you recoil and land a weak fist against his shoulder. “You’re the one always ruining everything. I’m thinking about your comfort and your consent and trying to be nice and all you ever do is mock me. Awful man! You don’t even use the toothbrush I gave you. And you’re horrible company too.”

He’s laughing for the countless time that night, catches your wrist, then your other one, stifling your tantrum. A grin peeks beneath your stern glare, his high spirits are too contagious, and you wrestle against his unweaving hold without much zest.

 “Too bad.” he gives you one good jerk and you faceplant into his neck, then rests his chin against the top of your head and you can hear the cocky smirk forming. “Is either me or the wasteland, Darlin’, and the wasteland don’ give no kisses, trust me.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 9 >>>

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[kentstoji]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ BLESSED , part 1.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤparing. platonic scaramouche & nahida.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤsetting. genshin impact.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤtype. headcanons (tw. impostor au, mentions of violence, ooc nahida, terrible worldbuilding.)

"Did I do something?" Before he could suppress his thoughts, the question spontaneously flowed from the Wanderer's lips, capturing the Archon's attention.

Nahida's green eyes, accentuated by long white lashes, left the pile of scrolls—courtesy of Alhaitham, the detestable scribe—to analyze him with interest.

"Sorry, I didn't understand." She granted him her characteristic smile, warm and genuine.

He swallowed hard, wondering if it was worth expressing the insecurities growing within him. Clearly, he was motivated solely by the initial emotion. The shadow of his traumas manifested, making him act impulsively.

His porcelain face, pleasant and unchanging, was adorned with red hues. Nahida bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. Frankly, seeing him shy was fascinating. Adorable.

"You've been studying me since you took me in," the puppet replied, irritation marking his voice, always accompanied by a strong Inazuman accent.

"Oh? I hadn't noticed." It was never the Lesser Lord's intention to revive his past. Keeping him in the same cycle was never part of her plans, as it would be minimally cruel. However, there was truth in his words. Nahida was indeed examining him.

He was admirable, unique.

"I'm sorry, Wanderer. I'm not being transparent with you." The apology was sincere, and he could relish the honesty that accompanied it. "I'm working on a thesis, and you are indeed my inspiration."

The Puppet's lips curled in disdain.

"Tell me more." It was ironic and brief. He demanded the truth. He felt he had such freedom to address her informally. Their relationship, although recent, was built on sincerity.

"Well, it might seem stupid, but I have reasons to believe that you are an acolyte of the Creator." Kusanali replied, as if it were simple.

For her, an individual pliable by logic, facts, and evidence, her revelation was easy to digest and accept. All the parameters she used to reach this conclusion were plausible.

"What are you talking about? Only Archons can be Acolytes." The Wanderer retorted, harshly. In another life, if the Electro Archon wasn't a selfish goddess, he might be on his knees before the golden throne, living off the Creator's crumbs.

"Not necessarily. An Archon is just another, victorious in the battle Celestia waged among the gods. Merely a title." Little Nahida shrugged. She took a deep breath and continued with her explanation. "You, however, possess a suspicious particularity."

Still unconvinced by the conspiracy, he asked, "What would that be?"

"Power. And I don't mean elemental power, but your growth." The Lesser Lord sat on her swing and stretched her legs, seeking a brief moment of relaxation. "Perhaps I'm talking about blessings. I thought this whisper of power existed only in the Traveler, but you were consecrated."

"I still don't understand." With a calmer voice, the Puppet approached the young goddess, intrigued.

"You have something that neither I, nor Baal, nor Rex Lapis possess. The Creator's grace." Nahida explained calmly as he approached. "However, when we visited them in Liyue, they didn't even recognize you, which makes me wonder if the one sitting on the Throne might be a impostor.”

(Nahida needed to be honest, to respect her own feelings. To validate her thoughts, even if they might be treacherous. She felt nothing in front of the Creator. No spark or connection.

Staring at the person comfortably seated on a throne of gold and gleaming jewels, she wondered if she would escape with her life if she cut them, solely to examine the color of their blood.

It had to be golden, like the gold that Liyue flaunted — and Rex Lapis would bring her eternal judgment if she succumbed to the darkness of her desires. But the thought was seductive, malicious.

By the gods, she was becoming as sadistic as the Dottore, yet the image before her was not pleasant to contemplate. If she closed her eyes, she would be back in the Cage the sages of Sumeru locked her in, where she could be saved by her subjects' dreams and their faith.

She was still fervent. But that person did not awaken hope in her.

And Kusanali's instinct dictated that she should flee. Take the Wanderer, and run.)

"You still don't understand. And I don't expect you to comprehend it now." The goddess of wisdom sighed, gathering the strength to continue her monologue. "But one day you will. Until then, I hope you know just how lucky you are.”

[lunarmoves]

mentions: dark themes centered around death/murder, blood

throughout all the years of moon being the naptime attendant, there was one thing he learned after the pizzaplex had burned down and he found himself an inhabitant of your tiny home: 

when some humans slept, it looked a lot like they were dead. 

toddlers, as they napped, were often loud. snoring or moving restlessly around. it was easy to tell when one was awake or when one was having a fitful dream. it was something programmed within moon to recognize and he prided himself on his ability to soothe them into an easy slumber. 

you, however…. you were different. 

moon hadn’t seen many dead humans in his life, but that didn’t mean the count was zero. sometimes if he thought about it too long or let himself drift into memories he’d try so vigorously to suppress, he could see a dark liquid tainting his hands. he could hear a steady drip, drip, drip as he stood before a body splayed out on the ground before him. he could feel the static in his head and hear the whispers beyond his audio processors telling him to—

moon shook his head free of those thoughts. no more, it was no more. 

it became a habit for moon to slink into the gentle darkness of your bedroom at night. where the open window let in dewy moonlight that blanketed the floor as though from an angel’s touch. he’d stand at the side of your bed and look down at your slumbering face. and he’d simply watch. 

you looked like you were dead. 

moon knew, rationally, that you weren’t. you just slept like you were. still and unmoving with your eyes and mouth closed. your blankets covered the rise and fall of your chest—your breaths so faint they almost weren’t there. if he let his mind wander, it would make the shadows covering your body glisten and soak into your form like fresh blood. it never failed to make something cold run through his wires. to seize something within him in a devastating iron grip. 

he knew not to wake you. the first night he’d spent in your home had not been a pleasant one for either of you. him, with his deep-seeded panic and you, with your fresh trauma. he knew now that all he needed to do was reach out two fingers to press them gently in the crook of your neck. 

moon knew he could scan you and take note of your vital signs. but you’d had a conversation with him about privacy, boundaries, and consent. he had more respect for you to let his rampant anxieties cloud his rationality. feeling your pulse, however? that he could do. 

your pulse throbbed away beneath his touch and moon let out something reminiscent of a deep sigh. he took his hand back slowly—letting his knuckles trail across the line of your jaw. you didn’t move a muscle, but moon knew you were fine. you were fine. 

he shuddered, then let his hands hang down by his sides, fingers curling and uncurling to a beat only he was distantly aware of. and he stood there as the stars made their way across the sky—until the darkness was cracked by a burst of fiery mandarin along the horizon. just so he could see your eyes blink slowly open—so he could bask in the tired, yet warm smile you’d always send his way.

forever your silent protector of the night.

[websterss]

𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 — 𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You’ve been struggling with Neteyam’s death ever since his funeral. This causes the Sullys to worry about your well being. To ensure that you don’t do anything irrational, the kids follow you to the spirit tree every night, where you spend your time with your lost love.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of suicide, attempt drowning, fluff at the end

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5,989

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Neteyam Sully x Omatikaya!fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Denial was the first stage of grief that one felt when trying to cope with trauma. At some point and time, everyone falls subjective to it. Finding ways to trick the mind to believe something other than the truth. When someone is in a state of denial they begin to suppress their emotions. They grow incapable of coming to terms with what is and what has happened. That’s the current state you resided in. In a cycle of trial and error. Attempting to process a sudden change, but then avoid doing so to neglect the pain you don’t want to endure. Rather, neglect the fact that Neteyam was gone. It’s crazy to think how only hours ago he was rescuing you from the ship. Telling you to run and get to safety, but you were willing to follow his skxawng ass anywhere. You got him back for a few minutes, it was only a few minutes you wished you’d have cherished longer. 

You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t listen to him, didn’t flee, didn’t return home, and didn’t think that you were putting yourself in danger, not when he was still risking his own life. He had the habit, his prolonged responsibility to watch over his siblings, be there to guide them, protect them, but who was protecting him? Who was making sure that he was okay and that he was protected? You bore that pain. Wondering why you let him push you into the water, instead of grabbing his hand to jump with you. His struggling attempts to stay afloat haunt you. A bad nightmare that looms over you when you're trying to sleep and causes you to wake up alarmed. The thought leaves a foul taste in your mouth. It makes you shudder, makes you twitch in discomfort, especially when you recall the blood that dyed the ocean red. His blood coated your cerulean hands. His death wasn’t one you wanted to accept so easily.

Not as you helped pull the leaf you placed him on, out into the water with his family. You were taken back by how calm the water swayed. That in itself was surprising because the ocean always seems to have a mind of its own. You're reminded of the Eywa instantly. How the inner workings of life flow within her. How her network makes it possible for all living things, plants, and animals to connect as one. The way the ocean remains tranquil makes you assume that this is all Eywa’s doing. Could she feel the shift in the atmosphere through the way of the water? The gathering of the Metikayina clan and the Sullys came together as one to mourn the loss of casualties. Was Eywa allowing a moment's worth of peace? Providing security and a safe passage to lay the dead to rest. 

You weren’t sure.  

Your mind continuously wanders. Distracted from the way the water welcomes you all in a gentle embrace. Kind enough to hopefully welcome you back for a night swim with Neteyam. Various nightly escapades forefront, reminding you of you and Netyeam sneaking out to a secret beach you discovered. It was your most favorable time spent together. Venturing around the island, risking the chances of getting into trouble, but it never worried you, nor him. His rebellious side was one you didn’t know you wanted to see more of till he grabbed your hand one night and told you to be quiet, he didn’t want his siblings to wake up. Your eyes fleet, taking in your surroundings. An unsettling earl sets off your senses. Your ears flatten, attention engaged, eyes falling onto his family swimming forward with you. The lost look on your face didn’t fall past Lo’ak watching with worry as you whipped your head around. You were unfamiliar with your surroundings all of a sudden. 

Weren’t I just at the docks? How did I manage to get this far out?

Your attention falls onto him then. Your freak-out incident, coming to a stop. The breath you inhaled blocked your airway. You hold on tightly, your fingers curl into the leaf. Your eyes drifted onto his motionless body, sparing seconds of what was left of your sanity. His soft features were relaxed. Victim to a deep slumber.

He was only resting, you thought. Just resting.

You tilt your head. A smile dances its way onto your lips. The band holding his hair in one nicely kept ponytail stirs a flutter within your stomach. You can’t help but laugh. Finding his neatly kept hair hilarious, whereas you preferred the vicious swinging braids more than anything. You like to remind Neteyam that his hair seems to have a mind of its own. You're oblivious to the narrowed pinched glares cast at you. You press your fingertips over your mouth in hopes of making yourself stop.

“Why’s his hair pulled back? Neteyam never pulls his hair back.” Another rumble of giggles emits past your lips as you reach forward to free the braids of their confinement. The only thing coursing through your mind is that Neteyam would be grateful. Knowing that his long braids could never be tamed and forced into a ponytail. Your laughter comes to an abrupt stop. A firm grip on your wrist brings you back to reality for just a second– a second of truth, one you didn’t want to submit to.

“No Y/n.” Lo’ak shakes his head. He reached over Neteyam’s body to stop you. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist as he pushed your hand back towards your chest. 

“He likes to wear his hair loose.” You tug at his constricting grasp on your arm. His restless eyes meet your twisted frown. 

“Y/n-” He says your name with a break, almost in a warning-like. Holding himself back from causing a scene, but you already caused one first. “Just leave it.” He pressed your wrist to your chest. Pushing harshly in hopes you’d get the message. Hoping you wouldn’t push. You can only bring yourself to cast your eyes down. The tension in your shoulders disappears and your shoulders slump. The ache in your chest worsened, and the dissatisfaction of seeing his hair brought together by a band continues to bother you.  

“He likes it loose…just let him wear it loose.” Lo’ak glances at you before he turns to face forward again. 

Your mind continuously wandered. Hypnotized from the way your body feels weightless. Like the feather behind Neteyam’s ear. You're fully immersed but the journey to the sea anemone is lost on you. You don’t comprehend what’s happening as you all slowly bring him out of the leaf. Turning his body so his face met the night sky. You don’t hesitate to lay your hand over his bound ones. You lean in, eyes wide, your heart begging for a sign. Pain paints your eyes, a tear falling into the water causing a ripple. 

“You gotta let him go kiddo.” Jake’s strained voice startles you. Your eyes remain on Neteyam. Your body was present but your mind was still back on the ship. Back on the rock where you watched life leave his eyes. “Y/n?”

“Y/n, they have to take him, okay?” Lo’ak voices echo in your ears. His own hands wrap around your own. Slowly prying your grip away from his brother's hands. You don’t react to this. Lo’ak drags you back away from his body. Keeping his arms wrapped around your frozen frame. Neytiri feigns a frown watching you lose yourself there all at once and all together. She turns to meet her husband's gaze and then takes a deep breath along with him. Both dive opposite of each other to help their momentum to lower their son's body into the water. Pushing with their hands and legs. Kiri, Tuk, and Spider, then join, lowering themselves into the water to watch. Lo’ak eyes fix themselves on you. Your eyes stared out into the open water, not meeting his own. 

“Take a deep breath, okay.” Lo’ak executed the action, reminding you how to do so. Your eyes flicker up to him for a moment before intaking a good amount of air. He offered a nod then your bodies sunk past the surface layer. You didn’t know what to expect but watching as Neteyam’s body was slowly lowered, the first yellow tendril making contact with his arms and legs, it made you want to scream, swallow the water that would fill your lungs. Sink down to the bottom with him. The thought grew very tempting. Even as Lo’ak removed his arms around you. So you went along with the idea. Impulse taking over rationality. You opened your mouth, watching air bubbles rumble in front of your face. Your lungs burn as the saltwater makes your body convulse. The surface not being more than an arm's length away, but you were stupid enough to widen the distance. Allow yourself to sink. To drown in your own sorrow

You didn’t watch as his body descended to the bottom of the sea anemone.

As far as you were concerned, his death never happened. The situation left you in a state of hysteria. Even after Lo’ak and Kiri’s failed attempts. You would still not believe them when they told you that Neteyam was gone. That he was dead. You refused to believe such an absurd thing. 

That was the first change they noticed in your state of denial. Not wanting to take the necessary steps to mentally prepare for his death. The second change made Lo’ak and Kiri’s hearts settle with uneasiness. After Neteyam's passing, you were unable to function as effectively as the others. When Lo'ak observed you occasionally, you would stare at the water, oblivious to the world around you, and solely focus on the ripples the water created. You did this so often that you made it a habit to tune out the living and wait on the dead. Counting on Neteyam to resurface, and come help you understand why your whole world suddenly turned upside down. He always had the answers to your questions. Always had the ability to ease your troubles and doubts. 

There was never any cause for concern. The way they would find you sitting alone. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Until you made it a habit of not coming up for air. Lo’ak and Kiri had decided to voice their concerns towards their parents when you hadn’t resurfaced for over a few minutes one night. You were pushing yourself to hold your breath for longer periods. A dangerous habit. One they didn’t want to see the end results of when you eventually didn’t break through the top layer of water. The conversation they had with their father playing like a broken record in the back of their heads. A constant reminder not to let you out of their sights. 

-

“I want you to follow her, see where she goes, okay.”

“What?” Lo’ak met his father’s eyes with disbelief. “Why us? Dad, you need to tell her something. Ground her. Keep her home. Y/n’s not okay. She won’t listen to Kiri and me, but maybe if you talk to her, she will!” 

“Dad, she keeps wandering off during the night. Dad, I’ve found her gasping for air other times because she’s tried to stay underwater. She needs help!” Kiri pleaded. “You have to help her!”

“If what you two are telling me is true, then you need to keep a close eye on her. Someone in her state cannot be trusted to be left alone right now, okay? Why do you think I’m keeping an eye on your mother?”

“I-I thought you said mom was fine?” Lo’ak furrowed his brows. 

“She’s not.” Jake shook his head. “I’m lucky enough if I can get her to eat something every day, let alone get her out of bed…Look that girl’s not thinking straight. She’s mourning your brother. We all are. And right now, trying to grasp the difference between right and wrong is not something she can do.”

“Not grasping? Neteyam’s dead! What is there not to grasp? He’s gone, Dad, and she doesn’t want to believe that…” Lo’ak voice broke. Turning his head so that his father couldn’t see him cry. Though when he lifted his head to meet his dad’s eyes again, he found him in the exact same state. Jake reached forward and pulled Lo’ak into his chest. Holding him close, providing comfort.

“Y/n can’t mentally grasp anything right, right now Dad. She’s barely taking care of herself as it is.” Kiri’s lips formed into a thin line. “I don’t want to watch her meet the same fate as Neteyam. I can’t go through that again.”

“I know. I know. He’s gone and it’s hard to come to terms with that sometimes. Especially for your mom, and for Y/n. Just– Y/n’s in denial right now which is making it very hard for her to even want to deal with the idea of Neteyam being gone. We know he’s gone, your mother and tuk, they know he’s gone, but Y/n doesn’t, okay? You can’t make someone process a loss if they’re not willing to, and she’s not willing to. I just need you two to make sure she doesn’t give in to her impulsive thoughts, okay? Keep her from doing anything stupid. At least until she’s ready to try and move forward.”

“What do you want us to do until then?” Lo’ak pulled back. Annoyance struck Jake’s features, ready to scold the boy.

“Did you not just– Just make sure her heart’s still beating by the end of each night, yeah? That’s all I ask. Keep her alive.”

“You mean to keep her from killing herself.” Lo’ak scowled. 

“Lo’ak-” Kiri nudged him. 

“Just do me that favor.” Jake closed his eyes, not wanting to dispute with his children. Not having the energy to do so anymore. “Please, that's all I ask. All I ask.”

“Yes sir.” Lo’ak nodded. Bowing his head. 

-

You slowed your breathing as Neytiri and Jake settled down into a deep slumber.

A broken laugh would leave your lips anytime Lo’ak or Kiri, even Tuk, would try and convince you to eat. Poor Tuk. She couldn’t convince you to play with her anymore either. Her favorite pastime moments were no more. She missed having you braid her hair. It felt like something that was lost now. Neteyam’s death took a toll on trying to be happy. You knew it was something that you could be, but sadly it was something you were not. 

Neteyam was a memory. A dream really. An endless thought that enlightened your spirit. He made things better, but you were no better. The light within you dimmed when he took his last breath. All the oxygen left your body that day too. You were still clawing for air, trying to reach for it, to give oxygen to your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. Not without him.

Tsireya and Aonung were made aware of this as well. Both offered to secretly take care of you each time you dived.

“She’s hurting. We all are. You just need to make sure she doesn’t give in to her impulsive thoughts okay? Y/n grieves him differently...”

Lo’ak replayed his fathers' words as he, Kiri, Tsireya, and Aonung, followed from a discreet distance. You snuck out of the Marui pod and called upon your Ilu. One of several times you’ve done so. It was muscle memory to you by now. The act of going off on your own.

You never went anywhere far. Just to the Cove of the Ancestors. Lo’ak picked up on where you’d go after the third time he and Kiri followed you. You always rode out to the spirit tree. It was your most frequented place after the funeral.

You dismounted your Ilu. Removing your queue before taking a deep breath. The others had arrived just as you dove in head first. Your Ilu swimming off.

Lo’ak had turned onto his back, relaxing on his Ilu. Hands behind his head as he watched the night sky. The others were staring, but this was what it was like waiting for you. It was routine, and Lo’ak wanted to lay down till your return.

“How long till she resurfaces?” Aonung followed Lo’ak and relaxed on his Ilu. Tsireya and Kiri remained seated but Tsireya’s shoulders were slumped. The composure of the chief's daughter faded amongst her friends. On the occasion of your nightly visits to the Cove, it’d mostly be Lo’ak and Kiri attending. Tsireya and Aonung would come along, but it was never frequent for them. Yet tonight the whole gang was here.

“She’s been getting better at breathing. She was down there for almost an hour the day before.” Lo’ak removed his hands and dipped them into the water creating ripples. “I’m betting thirty minutes, maybe less.” His ear twitched as he heard a scoff to his right. Kiri rolled her eyes. 

“The spirit tree allows you to breathe once you make the bond, Lo’ak.” Tsireya reminded him. “Like the Txampaysye (Gill Mantle). Y/n is able to spend a longer time in the water.”

“Skxawng. We are not here to bet on anything. Mind him Tsireya, he doesn’t understand what these visits mean to Y/n.” Kiri sighed as she spoke to Tsireya. “It’s however much time she needs, not how long she takes. Besides, she’s always resurfaced!” Kiri splashed Lo’ak.

Lo’ak’s mood now peeved, he shot her a narrowed glare. “What about last time, huh?”

“We don’t talk about it, Lo’ak!” Kiri’s eyes grew. She shook her head, warning him. If he so much as peeped. “You promised Dad!”

“What happened last time?” Aonung eyes flickered back and forth between the siblings.

“Kiri thinks Y/n was drowning last time.” Lo’ak lifted his chin staring right through her. Waiting to see a falter in her poised composure.

“You do not believe so?” Tsireya’s eyes narrowed, shifting onto Lo’ak in question.

“She couldn’t hold her breath anymore–'' Kiri tries but Lo’ak cuts her off again.

“No, she wanted to drown!” Lo’ak couldn’t hold back any longer. He was tired of sugarcoating that horrid night. Tired of keeping it a secret. “It’s why she won’t talk to her.” He looked at the two siblings and then at Kiri. “She’s mad at you because you saved her. Then you told Dad, and now we come out here and bring her home every night. That's the truth, Kiri!”

“She was hurting that day-“ Kiri closes her eyes.

“Y/n knew what she was doing Kiri.” Lo’ak neared his Ilu closer to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder. “It was not an accident.” Kiri gave in, nodding. Agreeing. Coming to terms with the fact she stopped you from trying to drown yourself. “If she doesn’t come up when the fish swim by, we go down for her. Yes?” He suggested. “Until then we take turns checking up on her.”

“Okay.” Kiri sighed.

“Okay.” Tsireya nodded.

“What do we do until then?” Everyone looked over to Aonung. “Wanna play a game?” They were not amused in the slightest. “What?” Aonung raised his arms.

“You can swim down first to check on her.” Lo’ak declared, pushing Aonung off his own Ilu.

-

Your eyes reopened after attaching your queue to the tree. You sat at the edge of a grass bed, feet dipped in the water. Neteyam disapproved of you doing so. You had the tendency to swish your feet back and forth, creating bubbles and ripples. Just like you were doing now. You smirked, eyeing a fish that swam away. You tilted your head, catching sight of its gray fin from behind. The poor thing had hidden from you behind a big rock.

“You’re scaring the fish.” A gasp escaped past your lips. You had lost count of how many times hearing his voice still surprised you. You wanted to tear up hearing him speak because it shouldn’t have felt real, but it was. He was. You knew it was because your hand would connect against the side of his face, every time. You could touch him, hear him, and cherish the mere sight of him alone. He was gone physically, but here. Here Neteyam was real. 

The visits grow more difficult as time passes. You are able to stay for longer periods. The tree provides you with the possibility. Though, every time he appears, and you see his face, you fall into the false reality of his presence. Though you have to wake up from this at some point. Arriving to the tree is easy, it is the leaving that pains you. Your light would flicker as you’d go to close your eyes again, and the harsh reality would punch you right in the face, and you’d be met with the luminescent glow of the tree. The pink hue mocking you. You were always on the verge of a breakdown. During your first visit, you were sure you had filled the pond more with how much you cried. Neteyam was scared, thinking you were injured, but you had made the excuse that the Paysyul (Water Lily) he picked out for you was causing your eyes to water. That it was due to allergies, but Na’vi hardly got sick, yet he bought it. He stopped giving them to you afterward. Practically rid the pond of their existence. It made you cry even harder. That’s why your visits never lasted long enough. You could never hold yourself together in front of him.

“The fish are fine.” You smirked, glancing over your shoulder. You were met with a wide tooth grin and fangs. 

He’s real here, you keep telling yourself as he grows near. 

Your mouth opened as your eyes met. He was a vision. Beautiful. Transitioned from his baby face phase into the man you love. You didn’t dare speak in past tense. Your love for him was infinite. You’d love him forever until your dying breath. Your heart grew fonder as you both grew older. Playdates turned into hangouts, turned into meetings at this very pond. He and his father founded it first, the start-up of their father-son pastime, but Neteyam eventually granted you admission, having shared his safe place with you. Showing you where he collected his game, and where he ran off too to let off steam. It was where you two could get away. Be two skxawngs in love. Away from curious on-lookers. Where you weren’t trying to exceed as the next Tsahik and he wasn’t training to follow in his father's footsteps as Olo'eyktan. You were simply Y/n and Neteyam. Two peas in a pod. Fishes in a pond, really. 

Neteyam, not in the slightest bit amused, saw you eyeing the fruit in his hand. He bit into one of them before making his way over to your side. He set his bow down to his side and took his seat. Soaking his feet in the pond too. He chewed on a piece as he offered the other four in his palm. You bit your lip, looking amongst them to grab the ripest one. You took one and bit into it. Your eyes nearly crossed in pleasure due to the sweetness it gave off. The delightful snack almost makes you forget about the boy of the hour. You press your fingertips to your lips as you swallow the bite. You turn your head not expecting his eyes already on you. One look from him was all it took to make your ears dip. You felt a whirlpool in your stomach before you turned away. You cleared your throat and tucked a loose braid behind your ear. “See, they are perfectly happy.” You gestured with your finger to the fish swimming near your feet. 

Neteyam playfully narrowed his eyes at you as he took another bite out of his Yovo. He offered another fruit to you but sucked his teeth when you shook your head no. You weren’t here to eat. He rolled his eyes and let them drop beside him. Coming to his feet again. He collected his bow and an arrow. Eyes scanning the pond, following the movement of the fishes. He dared a glance down at you. His smile grew as you tried shying away again, but your eyes never swayed from him. You could see the shift in his demeanor turn into a cocky one. Always wanting to impress you, even in the afterlife. He gave you a smirk, then focused on his breathing and his stance. It was enough to make you turn into a puddle. A whirlpool of a hurricane in spin mode. Neteyam knew how flustered you got around him, he practically grew another ego from it, but you continued to encourage it even now. 

He exclaimed, raising his hands in the air as the arrow hit its target. You laughed as he jumped into the pool picking up the wriggling fish. The creature twitched in his grasp. You squinted, covering your face, as water droplets hit you. He looked down at it, inspecting its size and width, before yanking the arrow out of it. You grimaced watching it grow still. They were yummy, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still think they were gross. Your nose scrunched as he came closer. 

Fish, you hated them. It’s why you stopped eating them back at the Marui pod. You had enough of them. You were convinced that Eywa had turned one of them yellow during one of your last visits to keep it spontaneous. To keep the peace and to keep away any annoyance you had of them. Yet, Neteyam was the happiest when shooting for fish. You’d watch him shoot that same damn fish over and over again because he loved it, and you. You loved Neteyam. Seeing him at ease with himself passing the time at the pond. It brought you comfort. You wouldn’t trade it for a thing.

Neteyam held the fish up like a trophy. Amazed by the big game he was going to bring home. The proud smile of his father is what he was hoping to see. He looked at the fish like it was the coolest thing in the world. Though upon knowing, he has done much more exciting endeavors. But catching big game trumped undergoing his Iknimaya for sure. You were slightly guilty for his great catch. You would make one fish slightly more significant, larger than the rest during each visit. The bigger the fish, the more his smile grew. It was the only thing you wanted to see.

“Do you see this?” He beamed with delight. “Oh thank you Great Mother for this gift!” 

The only thing.

You hadn’t realized you had been crying until Neteyam voiced his concerns. Until his thumb caressed over the fallen tears on your cheek.

“You okay, syulang (flower)?”

“Mmm?” You sniffled, looking up at him with a half-hearted laugh.

“You’re crying. Are you unwell? Was it the Yovo?” He reached across you, going for the dropped purple fruit next to you. He wanted to see if they were bad, but you stopped him.

“No, no, I’m okay.” 

Neteyam frowned as he reached up again. His thumb wiped another fallen tear. His touch lingered on your skin. “Something is wrong.” He huffed with a smile. He brought both hands up to cup your face.

“Nothing is wrong, ‘teyam.” You denied it.

“Yes, because I got rid of all the Paysyuls (Water Lilies). Your eyes should be dry.” Neteyam looked around the pond and then back to you. “Is it your allergies?”

“No, not that.” You shook your head. You turned his chin to face you. Hands cupping his face gently. You just held him there. So grateful to be able to feel him. See him.

“What is it then?”

“I’m just happy to see you.” Your eyes grew watery again. Neteyam leaned into your touch. “Spend time with you.”

His brows furrowed, a hint of a smile making its way onto his face. He grew amused but felt fond of your confession. Pressing the space between your eyes in a teasing manner.

“I’m happy to see you too.” His shoulders relaxed. You groaned as you shook out your hands. You were really bad at staying composed. You tried but failed to wipe away your tears, Neteyam reached forward again to wipe under one of your eyes. “But no more crying, you’ll scare the fish away.” He tried to remain serious but you saw him falter. His ears twitched. You gasped, hitting his shoulder.

“I will not!” You laughed. “The fish are fine.” He joined in on the laughter, happy to have brought back your smile. 

-

Lo’ak had sent Tsireya down after a while. He, Aonung, and Kiri watched as the bioluminescent fish swam underneath them. Mostly swirling around Kiri. He met her gaze before he went to inhale a big chunk of air. He released it though when Tsireya resurfaced.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Lo’ak asked. She gave a nod.

“She is fine. She’s coming up.”

They brought their heads out of the water. Waiting as you took your time resurfacing. The faint outline of your body could be seen as you grew closer. Once your head passed above the layer of water, you exhaled softly. You tread the water in silence. The others had formed a circle around you. You were staring off into space. Letting your thoughts cloud your mind. You had almost missed Lo’ak’s question.

“You okay? Did you see him?”

You only nodded. A tear trailing down your cheek and into the water like a dew drop. “He’s okay.” You sniffled. “He remains at the pond.” You let out a broken laugh. The group started to enclose the circle, each slowly resting a hand on you before engulfing you in their embrace. They hold you as you continue to tear up after your latest encounter with Neteyam. “I miss him.”

“We miss him too.” Kiri offered a faint smile. You glanced at her. Smiling faintly as you acknowledged her being here for you, even after you declared you hated her. Her teary eyes met yours in agreement. It was time to disperse and move past the fight you had with her.

“He’s at peace.” You sniffled. “That at least brings me some.”

“That’s good, no?” Lo’ak dipped his head to catch your eyes.

“It is, but it gets harder to visit. I don’t want to stop though.”

“Then don’t.” Lo’ak shrugged. The others nodded in agreement.

“Really?” You peered up through your eyelashes. “But don’t you hate coming with me? Waiting for so long?” You frowned.

“If this is helping you. We’ll be here every night, waiting for you. However long it takes.”

“Maybe not that long– Ow!” Aonung cried out in pain. Tsireya had swatted him over the head. “We’ll wait.” Aonung cleared his throat.

The corner of your lip lifts in amusement. You always assumed you weren’t worth someone going out of their way for you. This proved you wrong.

“Let’s go home yeah?” Lo’ak gestured over his shoulder. You nodded. He got on his Ilu first then offered his hand to you. You climb on the back and hold on for the ride home. Then you all took off. You glanced back at the spirit tree below the water knowing tomorrow would await another night visiting Neteyam. For the first time, you felt like you could breathe. There’d be no hurry to meet him now. He’d still be there welcoming your arrival with corny jokes and removing another found Paysyul (Water Lilies) from the pond. There was no rush to this, not when you were grieving him.

-

Lo’ak had imagined you being gone the next night. Your time spent at the Cove once more, but he was rather surprised seeing you sat near the Marui pod. Feet in the water. Hands gripping the woven edge. You were just mindlessly being. Existing and letting your thoughts run rampage through your head. He couldn’t help wanting to join you.

He came forward and sat next to you. Letting his feet get soaked. His hands were now gripping the edge too. He broke the deafening silence amongst you eventually. Though nothing was ever really quiet around here. The clicks of the sea life creatures and the motions of the tide entering the reef, provided enough sound. He was oddly curious about something though, so he asked you.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” You lifted your head. Eyes shifting onto him.

“Try to hold your breath for so long. You know there are Txampaysye (Gill Mantle) for that?” He teased you.

“It’s silly.” You bit your lip.

“Tell me.” He urged you.

“Neteyam and I, we used to compete to see who could hold their breath the longest.” You closed your eyes, imagining yourself coming up for air before him. “He’d always win.” Neteyam’s head would pop up in a shit-eating grin. One you’d splash him for. He was never boastful though. Never one to make you feel like a sore loser. “I just wanted to see if I could finally beat him for once.” You laughed. It was indeed silly, but it was silly to you in a sentimental way. Lo’ak being Lo’ak had decided to break your heartwarming memory.

“He definitely cheated.”

“What?” You gasped. “No, he didn’t.” You shoved him. “Neteyam was very just in his actions.”

“He cheated!” Lo’ak couldn’t contain his laughter. Swatting or holding your wrist to prevent you from pushing him into the water.

“He did not. Don’t say that. He let me win once.”

“He did?” Lo’ak stifles his laughter. His eyes and ears relaxing. He offered you a lopsided grin before growing serious again. Not wanting to dampen your memory of his brother.

“No.” You shook your head, feeling deflated. Lo’ak’s laughter picked right back up. Everything you thought you had ever known was ruined. “No, I think– I think he cheated.” You purse your lips. Staring straight into the water. You slacked your jaw, scoffing. “This is your fault!” You smacked his shoulder.

“My fault? This is Neteyam we are talking about.” Lo’ak continued to laugh. “He wasn’t always so serious Y/n, but he always liked to win.”

“It’s not funny!” You whined.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Lo’ak reached for your hands and gripped them tightly. “But no seriously, stop it, even if it brings back the memories of him. You can drown, and I really don’t want to give you CPR.” You gasped this time, playfully hitting him.

“You skxawng...” You smiled nonetheless. Lo’ak reciprocated. You were the only other person who liked to call him that. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was missing Neteyam and being called that. The thought plunged deep into his heart, but it left a fond feeling. He had you now to help fill in the space where a gap was. “He loved you very much, Lo’ak. Never forget that.” You pressed your palm to his cheek. He nodded in response. Leaning into your palm. 

“He loved you too.” Lo’ak extended his arm out, bringing you to his side for a hug. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the waves softly sway. 

“He caught a fish today.” 

“Is that all you two do in there, catch fish?” Lo’ak pulled back with a smirk.

“This big…” You smiled, extending your arms the length it was. “Lit up like the Spirit Tree.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 35 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

Winston’s solution essentially turns into a waiting game. 

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because whether he thinks or not, you know John needs time to heal his injuries before you face a sitdown with the High Table, the brat prince, and the top bosses of the Camorra, none of which are exactly eager to convene at a mutual time for the sake of John Wick–and you? You still don’t know what to think about this strange world John Wick has plunged you into. 

Even though you would supposedly be safe on hotel grounds, of course John doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. He rarely wants to leave the room either; you sense this is not just because he’s healing. The thought of wandering around here fills you with equal parts anticipation and dread. Maybe you both have caught a touch of agoraphobia, living your secluded little life in the mountains together. Gone are the days in which you flounced about the house in your designer sundresses with paint on your fingers and no panties to your name. If only you could have known at the time, how idyllic those precious moments had been.

Or maybe your recent trauma has skewed your memory of it all. 

It still feels strange, speaking to anyone but John, even when you’re just calling in your orders for room service. 

You sleep a lot, tangled together in the cloud-soft bed. Sometimes you watch TV or read, and sometimes you just lay there, and at least on your part, marvel that you’re not dead. 

You both have nightmares about the night the Camorra soldiers infiltrated your home. You relive the moment in which you’d nearly lost John, the knife wielding commando trying to stab him again and again in a replaying reel in your mind. In your dreams you cannot lift the gun to save him, or your every shot misses. The scene of John’s terrors seems to go a step further, and you know he has dreamed that they made it past him, up the stairs to you, when he wakes you with clutching arms and desperate kisses on your hair, as though he is assuring himself of your wellbeing.

One morning, he wakes you a different way, with his cock stuffing you full from behind and slow kisses on your neck, his strong arms wrapped around you. Up until this point you’ve avoided such things, scolding him that he’ll pull his stitches [again], and for once he actually listened to you. No more, it seems, and you cannot suppress a moan as he thrusts lazily up inside you with his hand on your breast. “John…” 

“Mmmm. I need you, baby,” he whispers into your hair, flipping you on your belly with his solid weight pressing you deliciously down into the mattress. “Need to feel you.”

“Your stitches–”

“Will be fine,” he interjects, and you can tell his patience has run short for you worrying about it. You don’t mean to be a nag, and you know he’s endured worse–you just don’t want him to have to be in unnecessary pain, again. You realize you would put this man in a bubble, if you could, he is so precious to you. It’s essentially what he tried to do to you, and see how that worked out?

“Please?” It’s the pure need in that last word that melts your last thought of resisting, and maybe, the fact that he actually asked. You realize you have not properly made love, have not felt him inside you since your primal chase turned borderline hate fuck in the woods, what feels like a lifetime ago. He thrusts again, his hips pressed into the curve of your bottom, and you feel your coherent thoughts evaporate into lust. You cant your hips just the way you know will tighten your hole and drive him wild; a ragged moan from behind you is your reward. 

“Temptress,” he grumbles, though you can tell he is smiling. “Trying to make me cum already?” His next thrust is a little too deep, but you take the punishment, only wincing slightly as you hide your grin in the pillow.

“Would I do that?” You sit up on elbows so you can look at him over your shoulder, your heart so filled with love you fear it might burst. He brushes your hair out of your face with tender fingers, a fire in those dark eyes all for you. In this love-charged lull he seems to change his mind about positions, withdrawing only long enough to flip you over before burying himself inside you again. 

Of all the ways John Wick has taught you how to make love, this is still your favorite; simple, vanilla missionary with his delicious weight on you, heart to heart with his mouth locked to yours. Something about almost dying together makes it even more intense for the both of you. When he draws back to look into your eyes while he wrecks you? It’s almost too much–too raw, too visceral. 

Too vulnerable. 

A part of you just wants to flee. 

“I love you,” he tells you between thrusts, one of your legs folded nearly to your chest, the other locked around his hip to hold him deeper.  “I need you.”

“You’ve got me. I love you, John, you’ve got me.”

There’s no room for higher cognition, in this gasping, bone-melting exchange of pleasure and bodily fluids. There is only the ability to speak the truth from the heart, and the breathless pursuit of release, together. It hits you both like a freight train, almost painful in all its ferocity–there’s no way in hell they don’t hear you next door, and maybe down the hall. 

You’re going to get into trouble. 

The absurdity of the thought makes you smile as much as John rearranging your insides. Sweaty and breathless, you stay locked together for what feels like a long time, neither willing to let go. Naturally its John who recovers first, catching your mouth in a deep kiss that curls your toes all over again. “Shower with me?” 

“Yes.”  

***

“Can we take Dog outside?” you ask during breakfast, the gentle beast in question leaning against your leg in pursuit of pets–and bacon. “I think he’s bored, walking the halls.” There was a pee pad for him on the roof–it was not the same, as touching paws to real grass.  

Once, John might have gotten mad that you would even suggest it. You think its a testament to improval, when he just sighs at you. “You know the answer to that, sweetheart.”

It’s too dangerous. 

You sigh too. 

As magnificent as The Continental was…it was starting to feel like you were going to be locked up there forever. 

“Is this a hint that you are bored?”

You consider this question, stirring sugar into your second cup of coffee. It does feel a bit like the two of you are stuck in purgatory, waiting. “Maybe I’m feeling a little cooped up,” you admit. “But the wake up calls here are spectacular…” You grin at him over your mug, and see your comment has the intended placating effect, the corner of his mouth pulling in a small smile, a flash of heat in his dark eyes that makes you clench between your crossed legs.

“I might have a solution for that.” Again, it’s like he’s asking, and he could have pushed you over with a feather. Have you arrived? Even with the sword of Damocles hanging overhead, just waiting for the moment you might set foot outside this hotel, this is the thing that starts to make you feel like everything might be alright someday. 

“Yeah?” 

“I want you to do some work with the Personal Trainer while we’re here. She’s very good.”

Everything is cloaked in double meaning in this place. Somehow, you suspect the title doesn’t mean this woman will yell at you to do five more sit-ups. “You…want me to lift weights?” you ask cheekily, waiting. 

“I want you to learn how to kill a man with your bare hands,” he tells you bluntly. “If you have to.”

You choke a little on your coffee at that. Point: John. 

“Jeesus.” 

“You’ve seen the truth of my world. Even though I’m retired…it just keeps fucking following me. That means…you’re in danger too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’ve always thought you were a nice person, but as it turns out your moral fiber must be fairly flexible–at least, for this man. Back at the coffee shop, you’d known he’d murdered those creeps in the van, and you’d done nothing. You’d shot a man to save him without a second thought. Now he wanted you to learn how to kill–and you were perfectly willing. 

A part of you wants to caution him, that you will never be as dangerous as the lowliest clown in this vicious world of thieves and killers. But in the end, you keep it to yourself. He wants to train you out of hope, and you don’t want to take that chance for some peace of mind from him. And, of course…maybe it will save your ass someday. 

You’re in no hurry to die. 

You can see he is troubled, brooding over the danger he’s put you in. You know the dark spiral that can lead him down, and you offer him a lifeline. “John…even if I’d known, in the beginning, about who you are and the risk…I still would have followed you anywhere.” 

It’s the truth. He wouldn’t have even had to kidnap you. You keep that to yourself too. 

He weighs you with those dark eyes–once upon a time, that penetrating look might have made you squirm. But maybe there’s a freedom now, in having traveled through the darkest labyrinths of his mind–and come out in one piece on the other side. You just meet that gaze, letting it wash over you, and in the end it’s he who looks away.  

“I actually believe you now, you know.”

You manage not to grin like a fucking idiot, even if it’s how you feel inside. Utterly unable to remain in your own seat after that, you slide into his lap, pressing your lips to his cheek, the side of his mouth, then lingeringly, his lips. You snuggle like that in the chair for several minutes, just holding each other, and not to be left out, dog shifts to lay on John’s feet. 

“John…” you say quietly, not wanting to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “What if…we just ran away together?” 

He raises an eyebrow to that, and you get the feeling that the option maybe hadn’t even occurred to him. He’s so accustomed to charging at his problems head first, guns blazing and fists flying–and usually that works out for him… Not so much, for the people around him, though. 

“Where would you want to go?” he asks, his lips against your temple. 

“I don’t know. Where could we go? Does anyone want you dead in South America?”

He’s quiet as he thinks about it. “...Maybe not?”

“We could…get new identities, and…move to Buenos Aires.” 

He blows through his nose as this, but you can tell he’s amused. “What is it with you and Argentina?” 

“It sounds like a great place to go,” you reason. “The Paris of South America. Good food. Culture. Architecture. Adventure… And they sleep in until like, 11 o’clock in the morning, it’s awesome.” 

He does laugh at this. “And I thought you were such an early bird, working at the coffee shop?” 

“I’ve come to find waking up early is overrated.” 

His chest quakes with mirth beneath you, and you reckon that even if he’s not taking your suggestion seriously, at least he’s amused, and that is good for morale. 

“So…when do I start with The Trainer?” John peers at his watch around your body. 

“In an hour.” 

“Fuck. Were you going to tell me?” 

He chuckles at this. “The less time for you to worry about it, the better.” 

“Why?” Now you are worried. “What is she going to do to me?”

“She’s not going to beat you up,” he’s quick to assure you. “I’m not putting you through real assassin school. But…I want you to take it seriously. Please? For me?”

Well…fuck a duck. 

“Ok, I will,” you promise him, wondering what you’re about to get into. 

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 18: casual

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: This is more of a filler chapter though, but I wanted to give you an insight of the relationship Skadi and König shared before we're getting any further into the direction of the end of the first half of the fic. Oh, and because of many amazing ppl that gave me feedback I try to improve my writing now. Just tell me what you think!

CW/TW: smut, mentions of loss, violence, trauma, piv, unproteced sex, petnames, oral, fingering, suppressed emotions

wordcount: 3.2k

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Even if you tried the hardest to keep your eyes open. To accompany Simon on the way back to the base, the sleep did creep up to you and dragged you away. Your mind circling the events from a long time ago. About nearly three years ago to be clear. To a fateful evening that changed so much and still too less. Your mind taking you back to the golden and cozy hall of the hotel lobby. Surrounded by four people that trusted you more than anything.

"No fucking way!" Eli yelled as you and König came back with the beers and shots.

 "Language, Kabuki.” You smiled while handing her a bottle of Dutch beer and a shot glass.

"Sorry, but I am shocked." You took the place next to Randy, across from her. Randy had one arm around the shoulder from Matt and König took his place between you and Eli, after giving the drinks to Matt and Randy.

"Why though?" you chuckled while taking a sip from your beer. Leaning back into the couch. Your team was seated at the hotel lobby, sharing some drinks before heading to bed. Every one of you wore a casual but chic outfit. Everything because you had to attend one of those benefits galas, and they were always the same. Having lots of drinks, shaking lots of hands and talking passionate about your job with persons who couldn't see a difference between a grenade and C4. But at least you got a fancy hotel, and good company. It wasn't that bad after all.

"Our sweet Droplet gave me a quick peck, and Kabuki lost it," McKenna stated while leaning against Randy's shoulder sipping on his beer.

"Bloody hell, it's just a kiss between mates." Randy laughed and placed his head onto Matt's. The urge in him to give his teammate just another peck grew with every second that Eli looked bewildered at him.

"It's like Droplet and me sharing a bed sometimes." You shrugged while your glance wandered to the two English men sitting close. A smile tugged at your lips.

"Skadi, you and Droplet, that's different. That's so damn different," Kabuki exhaled "It would be like kissing König right now." She pointed at the tall Austrian. The man only blinked at the statement.

The men let out a chuckle. "And what if I'd do? Would be just something casual. Like giving a compliment." You shrugged, and your answer earned you a mischievous grin from the two men next to you.

"No, and I excuse myself Lieutenant, fucking way!" Kabuki exhaled dramatically waving her beer in the air. Usually you would shake it off, but you had to prove a point. Your stubbornness winning over your other senses and the alcohol in your system did the rest.

You turned to König, who was unusually silent in this round. You placed your free hand under his freshly shaved chin and tilted his head into your direction. It was ridiculous how easy he obeyed. Your eyes met his clear blue ones. "Just casual." He breathed out before your lips brushed over his. Hesitant and quick. It was over before you could interpret too much in it. You leaned back into the couch and smiled at Kabuki who only looked in disbelief and utterly shock at you.

"Your Brits are a different kind. For real." Everyone at the table laughed.

"To Britain then!" Randy raised his shot glass.

"To the Wolves of war," you said quick before Matthew could protest.

"Aye!" Everyone chimed in and clunked their glasses together. Playing over the fact that you ignited a longing in your heart. Shoving it in the very back corner of your mind to just enjoy the gathering with your team.

The night went on, and after some more beers everyone parted their ways to go up to their hotel rooms. Randy and Matt brought you up, before heading to their shared room. It took the three of you like a whole eternity to get to the floor where your rooms were. Always joking and stirring up each other. You loved them, with your whole heart and still you couldn't wait for some peace and as soon as the door closed behind your back, you exhaled deeply. Immediately throwing the casual dress with your bra into the next corner and changed for comfortable pajama pants and a plain oversized shirt.

You took your make up off and afterwards placed yourself onto the bed and get used to the way too soft mattress, when a knock came from your front door. A sigh left your throat as you stood up to open the door. "Droplet, I swear to god..." but the sight in front of you cut right through your words. In front of your door stood the tall figure of your first mate. "König?", you were confused but according to the way his button up was only halfway done, and the tie was long gone, you knew he already went to his room and for some reason came back now. Without a word he stepped into your room, you let him. Something about him felt odd. Something about him made you suddenly feel so small and vulnerable.

Before you could question his behavior furthermore, he put your head into his huge palms and pulled you in for another kiss. Before you even realized what happened, you gave in. Completely in autopilot you let him do what he wanted to. Hesitant but eager kissing him back, while he kicked the door shut. "Make me stop," he exhaled deeply while catching his breath. "Nur ein Wort, and I'll stop."[Just one word] But you couldn't. You didn't want him to stop. It felt too good, you knew it was wrong but this once you wanted to be selfish.

"Just casual...," you breathed out before planting another kiss on his lips. That's when he lost it. His tall hands found your hips and pushed you up against the door, just like you weighted nothing. Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist, while your hands found the back of his neck pulling him impossible closer. The kisses grew more heated, more passionate. His hand found your butt cheeks, steadying you while pressing more into you.

You let your tongue slightly brush over his lips before he let you enter without a second thought. Your tongues found each other, while you clung to his neck. You could feel the heat radiating from his body. But more importantly you could feel how his pants grew tighter. You broke away for a moment. Catching your breath while looking in those deep blue eyes. His eyes searched for any regret in your eyes, but there was none. Only hunger. He buried his face into the crook of your neck while planting a row of open-mouthed kisses and bites along your neck, up to your jaw. Your head fell against the door and a muffled moan escaped your throat. "König... "

"Verdammte Scheiße..." [holy shit] It made him groan, pushing his bulge into you. The arousal grew between your thighs, you couldn't think clear anymore. Of course, it was wrong. Of course, you should stop, but it felt too good. Giving in to your carnal lust. Your eyes were blown with desire as he lifted you from the door and threw you onto the bed. You could sort things out when both of you were sober and more important satisfied. After all you were only a woman and therefore you had your needs. So why shouldn’t you let him help you with those?

You shuffled over the bed propping yourself on your elbows while he literally ripped his shirt off his body. The need to feel your skin onto his was unbearable. You eyed him up and down. It's not like you never have seen him without a shirt, but right now, it made you feel different, fairly hot. The tight suit pants left nothing to your imagination. You bite your lower lip, while you pressed your thighs together. "Such a pretty Engel," he said while he climbed onto the bed. The mattress shifting under his weight. His tall hand grabbed your waist pulling you up with him and placing some more kisses onto every place of flesh he could find.

"König.", you moaned his name once more while your hands found his shoulder.

"Let me taste you. Bitte." [Please], he looked with those puppy eyes at you. So desperate for you, so needy and you nodded. How could you deny him? How have you managed to deny him all the time?

He didn't waste any time and shuffled down, playing with the waistband of your pajamas before he freed you of them. Licking his lips while he looked with lust blown pupils at you. His hand caressed your clothed cunt, already soaking wet with your liquid. "Scheiße, mein Liebling," [shit, my dear] he exhaled before pushing your panties aside and letting his thumb run through your folds. You let out another moan. It was so long ago since someone touched you like this, and you couldn't believe how much you missed it. "So feucht, already." [so wet] His voice was full of desire, full of need. "Sei ein braves Mädchen and open up for me." [be a good girl] He bit his lower lips as you obeyed without hesitation. Moving down, he pulled your panties off and replaced them with his mouth.

You immediately took a grip on his freshly trimmed dirty blond hair and God; you wished it would be as long as usual. Your legs wrapped around his head while he ate you out like a man starved. Already arching your back and thrusting your hip further into him. He let you, he would let you do everything that would give you pleasure. His own hard member started aching and twitching, but he wanted to be patient. Soon one of his hands wandered from your hips to your entry, and he slowly pushed one finger inside, soon another one. It made your back arch even more. He observed every move you made. "König, I need you," you breathed out, your hips started pushing more into him.

 "Sssh, mein Schatz. Need to prepare you first. Wir wollen dir doch nicht weh tun," [we don't want to hurt you] he said while sucking at your skin, leaving bruises on the most unholy spots. He’d finally be able to claim you like he always longed for.

His fingers sloppy making his way in and out of your hole and you soon started to clench around him. His pace picked up and the mixture of the thrusts of his fingers and sucking of his mouth pushed you to your edge. "So ein braves Mädchen. Cum for me." [such a good girl] And you did. His moaned and sinful voice against your sensitive skin pushed you right into your climax. Your hand gripped one of the pillows to muffle your scream. A smile played along König's lips before he crouched up to you again. "Look at me, bitte." He gently pulled the pillow from your face and kissed you through your high. You could taste yourself onto his lips. God knows how much you needed this. All the longing glances, all the cravings satisfied with only so less of action. Still, you wanted more. "König please," you begged him to fill you up, hands wandering over his handsome face. He kissed your knuckles before placing another kiss on your lips. Softer, more intimate than before. You wanted to feel him all over you. God were your turned on by the man in front of you. You couldn't give a single shit about how wrong it would be. That was a problem for later, now you just wanted him all over you, deep inside you.

"I'm already yours," he said while removing your shirt and letting his tongue brush over your hardened nipple. "Only yours," he whined between the kisses on your delicate skin.

Your hands found his cheeks and you pulled him up to you again. The need for friction was an internal urge. "Bitte, ich will dich," [please, I want you] you cooed at him, and you could feel him shiver.

"Wie könnte ich dazu nein sagen." [How could I say no to that] In an instant he fumbled with the belt and unbuckled it. Pulling the pants and his briefs downs in one motion. His hardened length jumped against his stomach. The sight of him made you tremble. You imagined him being huge, but not like that. You bit down your lower lip, while he moved between your legs. Giving his hard member some few strokes and letting the pre cover the tip completely. Taking in the perfect and delicate view in front of him. Burning the image in his brain. He positioned his cock between your folds and pushed gently in.

"Bloody hell...", it felt like someone would tear you apart from the inside but at the same time you didn't want it to end. Your hand found the silky sheets of the bed. König gave you always a bit time to adjust before pushing further into you. Praising you for doing so good.

"Scheiß, so eng." [shit so tight] König had imagined that so many times. So many times, lonely in his room, chasing his own release while you were on his mind. And no image of your face came close to this reality. Your delicate moans, the way you cried out his name while being close to the edge again. The reality he found beneath him right now. He wanted you for so long and now he could have you. He didn't know how long it would last, but until then he wanted to give you everything. He made sure to show you that he was worth it.

It took him some time to button out and for you to adjust to his whole length. He made sure to not push it too fast, he wanted to take his time, even if it drove him mad "That feels so good," he breathed out. Closing the gap between your hips. Standing still for a moment to, taking you completely in. Your face in that light, your little moans, the way how you gripped tight onto him. He already was addicted but now he would never be able to let go.

"König, move," you demanded, and he eagerly obeyed. Pulling his cock nearly complete out again before his hips thrusted into you with a nerve-wracking pace. Your hands found his back and your nails dig into his flesh as you cried his name out. Leaving marks along his anyhow scarred back. He didn't mind. How could he? He already knew he belonged to you, for such a long time he wanted to feel you. And now he could feel the softness of your walls clenching around his cock.

"So perfectly made for me," he groaned while he kept thrusting into you. How could you have missed out on this the whole time? You didn't care right now. Because just then another high built up in your stomach, while you clung to him for dear life.

" 'm close. So fuckin' close," you moaned while he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

"Ja! Bitte, komm für mich." [cum for me] He inhaled your sent before leaning back to watch your face again. Having a tight grip around your waist, hoping to leave some bruises on you. Showing the world that you belonged to him, just like he did to you. He could feel your walls clench around him and God, it made him weak. His thrusts grew sloppy, and he could feel that he was close too. "Scheiße."

"Keep going, darling. Please." Your next orgasm washed over you and you cried out his name, just as he spilled his seed into you. It made the whole sensation so much more intense that even tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. His forehead pressed against yours, both trying to catch your breath. He wanted it to last longer. It was over so soon, too soon. It wasn't allowed to be already over. You could feel how his cum leaked through your hole.

"Es tut mir leid." [I'm so sorry]

"Hush." You traced lazy patterns on his back while he collapsed onto you. You could feel how his cock softened inside of you. Pressing his nose into your shoulder. In this very moment everything felt alright. You stayed in this position, him clinging onto your body and you stroking and massaging his scalp. How you wished he had his longer hair for you to play with.

It took you some time to get up, take a shower and finding your way back to bed again. König only pulled his briefs up before getting comfy on the bed, pulling you into his muscular arms. Your head resting on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. His soft but still deep voice brushed over your skin. "My queen...there's some..."

"Don't," you interrupted him before he'd say something he would regret. Of course, he wouldn't regret it, but you couldn't bring yourself to go through all of that again. It should stay simple, casual. He exhaled a deep sigh of frustration. You could feel how his chest raised and lowered itself with in the action.

"Can I at least stay? Bitte." He placed a kiss onto the crown of your head and stroked through your hair. You nodded; you couldn’t bring yourself to threw him out. Not after what you just did. His heartbeat was the coziest lullaby you ever heard until then. You didn't want to push it away. You didn't want to push him away, but you couldn't commit to him. You couldn't commit to all of that. Not after what happened all those years ago. But for now, you just wanted to enjoy it. Even if it only was for one night. The thing was you already were infected. Addicted to the way he made you feel, to his touch, and your selfish side wanted that. But you knew you didn't deserve it...no, he didn't deserve it. He deserved so much better than what you could give him. He deserved more than a casual thing. He deserved a woman that loved him, that could promise him a life side by side. But you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t promise him anything. You would never promise anything anymore. With a heart full of guilt, and a snoring König by your side, holding you close to his chest, you drifted away.

taglist: open

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub @illuminwtesz @killergoddess97 @kaelaiscool @spiritndrain @anothersimpsblog @backupgal @hungryhungariann @victoriazynui

[ghouljams]

Doitdoitsoitdoitdoit especially if we're talking a trauma heeling fic the way you know him has me addicted. Nature him in the nastiest of ways. For the good of us all.

Simon "Ghost" Riley, yeah I know him.

I think being in the 141 as an omega is a new thing for him, he's always been in the military while he was flipped alpha(which is important to remember for later) so he's never had to deal with omega shit while deployed. Officially he's designated as an alpha, he's an omega that flies under the radar because as far as society is modernized people always hold onto old notions about the way endotypes look/act. Ghost doesn't look like an omega, and he's not one to let anyone close enough to smell that he's an omega. I think a lot of his hormone issues are related to stress directly, his body flipping to something reactive(alpha) when put under duress. The 141 is an incredibly stable pack and environment under Price, less stress means no flip-flopping. So the 141 is the longest he's ever gone with what I(and Ghost lowkey) would consider his true endotype: omega.

It's hell when his first "military" heat hits. He's belligerent and itching for a fight, everyone looks at him wrong, he has no nesting materials, he ends up shoved in a corner of Price's office shaking from stress because he just can't deal with it all. He needs somewhere small and safe. Price is safe, Ghost can fit that into his world when the heat hormones take over, Price is the head of their little pack, Price is safe.

Price is also fuming mad, not at Ghost, but at whatever Muppet took down his endotype wrong. There are allowances made for omegas, time off for heats, extra bedding, suppressants if they want them. Soap wanders into the office and nearly has a panic attack himself because his instincts are screaming that someone in his pack is in trouble and he isn't helping them. Ghost punches him in the mouth for attempting to corral him to the barracks when it's safe in Price's office. Gaz gets called in to take him to medical and shoots Price a look that says they'll talk about this later.

This is where I start to diverge from established omegaverse Canon and say I don't think that Ghost as an omega is interested in receiving penetrative sex. He's an incredibly dominant omega in that sense, but also not? I am cooking a little alpha!reader/omega!Ghost fic in my brain rn(Goose fic u already know). I think it's a need for control on Ghost's part, lingering alpha instincts to micromanage things, a need to know exactly what is happening even through his heat. He doesn't like being touched on a good day, why would he like it when he's at his worst?

I also think that among the various tortures the Roba would have put Ghost through humiliation would have been a big one. Tearing him down so Roba can build him back and brainwash him. What's more humiliating to an alpha than being penetrated? Especially when Ghost already has the stress of his father's prejudice in his head, the experience would have been that much worse. Yeah I don't think he wants to get fucked, even in his heats. Which is fine, he doesn't need to in order to satisfy the itch under his skin there's plenty of other ways to get the energy out. (I don't think SA is mentioned in the comics explicitly, but also if you're going to hang someone by their ribs why would you draw the line at rape? I think Ghost was tortured every way Roba could think of)

My ideas for omegaverse don't have alphas wanting to jump every omega in heat, they do want to jump their partners to a certain extent, but I think for most of them it's just a very strong desire to take care of the omega. Like if you saw someone having a panic attack in the grocery store, you'd probably want to help them and be a little anxious yourself. It's like that but cranked up to 11. Price and Soap get all out of sorts about Ghost being a freak because he will not let them fulfill their instinct to get him blankets and food. Gaz just gets what's needed without asking lol he's not fighting with Ghost on this and someone has to keep this place running.

After that first heat though I think the 141 sort of... quietly acknowledges that Ghost is an omega. Gaz and Soap slink to him with their problems and somehow they feel better when he bluntly tells them what to do about whatever emotional bullshit they're dealing with. Price brings Ghost in on more meetings with recruits because somehow having both of them in the room puts people more at ease than one or the other. Soap naps on Ghost on the couch. Gaz passed off a tee-shirt for Ghost to add to the nest he's growing in his room. No one says anything but it's there. He's given the room to be himself without judgement of prejudice and I think he takes to it like a fish to water.

Ghost to me very much embodies a slow healing process. His room at the barracks goes from spartan essentials to warm and well nested, he gets more comfortable with managing the pack, falls asleep on Price at one point and Price just lights up(happy omega, feels safe enough to be vulnerable around him, he's taking care of things right, good job, good boy Price).

I do think this au works best within the cowboy or fae universe, so I'll say that I think Ghost is on his starting to get a handle on being an omega when he retires and moves to the farm, but he has a minor panic about potentially flipping again. He hasn't had a type change in years, but he never knows. (he doesn't flip, but he worries about it for months after he moves to the farm)

[hitoshiyoshi]

please save me | shimura tenko

synopsis ↬ you save shimura tenko

warnings ↬ mentions of child abuse/neglect, all for one does not exist in this universe, reader makes references to "maternal/motherly" behavior although it’s gender neutral, mention of death

pairings ↬ young!tenko x parental figure!gn!reader (platonic!parent-son/teacher-student)

word count ↬ 4.9k i'm so sorry

a/n; this came to me after watching his origin story and seeing all those people ignore a helpless child...

A cold gust of wind caused a shiver to run through your spine as you briskly walked towards your destination. Taking care of the students at your elementary school drained your energy for the day; you barely had enough strength to walk. You thought about going home — everything you needed for your quirk was located there — but a loud grumble from your stomach ushered you to find food. As your shoes clicked against the sidewalk pavement, you watched as some students ran toward their parents, grandparents, or guardians.

A warm smile spread across your lips while you watched, reminding you why you loved your job. Overwhelming maternal instincts urged you to care for children, but the work of finding a suitable partner never seemed to end well. You had many offers and confessions, most of which you turned down. The ones you called your 'lover' showed their true sides eventually, and those relationships soon ended. You had a longing desire for a companion, someone that would stay by your side since it was rather lonely. Your work as a teacher seemed to fill that void for a while until you noticed your yearning started to grow.

While walking down the path to the nearest coffee shop, you notice a small figure. The person was a long distance away, and it would take a couple minutes for you to reach them. They seemed so small compared to the adults walking near them. Hunching their back as they stared at the ground, something wasn't right. You wondered if it had been one of your students and quickened your pace toward the mysterious person upon realizing it was a child. Pedestrians stared down at the boy, observing in horror before choosing to ignore him.

An older woman approached the child, whispering something to him before turning around and scurrying away. It was a confusing and strange sight. You couldn't fathom why civilians were ignoring him. Some completely turned around and moved in the opposite direction as the boy watched, stunned and unable to move. Others glanced at him, only to distance themselves and quickly move away as if he carried the plague. A few closed their eyes and pretended that the boy didn't exist.

As a few people walk and clear the street, you see an empty circle surrounding the child. Soon, you two are the only ones on the sidewalk. You can overhear a few loud chatters amongst a group of girls watching the boy and keeping their distance. It doesn't bother you one bit. You've grown accustomed to the whispers of others. The boy looks down the street with his back turned to you as he watches others turn away from him while intensely scratching his neck. Before you know it, you're standing directly behind him, but he doesn't seem to notice — as if he's lost in a trance.

By now, you're the only adult left on the street. You could sense something was wrong as you examined the boy's demeanor. He looked like he could be a student from your school, around five years old. His hair was a faded grayish-blue color. His clothing seemed tattered and dirty as if he had been wandering for a long time before you found him. The pitiful scene reminded you of your childhood traumas; memories of your parents and the orphanages returned after being suppressed for years. The excruciating feeling of abandonment caused you to feel a sense of pain as you watched the boy.

"Excuse me? Little boy..?" You call him in a soft tone. It was the same voice you used to console your students. Welcoming and warm, you tried not to scare the boy.

His head slowly turns around to the voice behind him. Although his expression was blank, you noticed his face contorted oddly at your tone. You reminded him of his mother, who turned to stone before disintegrating into dust before his eyes. He's unsure whether he should smile and seem friendly since it only made the older woman run away.

Still scratching at his neck, you can see dry pink wounds. No blood pours from his skin, although his flesh is nearly visible. The soles of his feet were calloused and covered in soot. He'd been walking alone for what seemed to be days or possibly weeks. His hands were bloody, but you presumed it wasn't his own blood. As he stared up at you, his scratching seemed to slow down.

"Are you okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You inquired to the boy as he stared speechlessly. His expression was still blank. Blinking a few times, he was still too stunned to speak. In your experience, personally and as a teacher, you would've guessed the boy went through something traumatic.

"I... I..." The boy tried to speak, but he didn't know what to say. You watched as his mouth moved to form words. He wanted to say something, anything. The boy was too scared that another person would abandon him again.

His voice was low. You could barely hear his words with the noise of cars passing by. It was dry and hoarse like he hadn't used it in a long time. Maybe he's thirsty, you thought before digging through your purse and taking out a half-empty water bottle. He certainly looked like he needed more than only water. After screwing off the cap, you give it to the boy, whose eyes widen brightly at the gesture. The first sign of help he receives in a long time.

"I'm sorry, it's a bit warm and I drank some on the way here." Shyly smiling down at him, you watched as he carefully held the bottle with only four bloody fingers. The boy grasps the bottle and glances between you and the water in his hands. His expression seems a cross between perplexed and grateful. "Aren't you thirsty? It's okay, you can drink it."

He eagerly sips the water, drinking it until all the contents are gone — down to the last drop. The boy stares at you and the empty bottle as if he expects more of your gifts. Unfortunately, you didn't have anything else for him.

"My name is (Y/N), can you tell me your name?" You say while kneeling down at the boy until you're at eye level with him.

"S- Shim- Shimura... Ten- Tenko." Tenko's voice trembles as he speaks. Another chilly breeze causes the boy to quiver as you watch him. It's getting colder, and the sun is setting faster. You need to hurry.

"Tenko! What a wonderful name..!" Smiling affectionately at the boy, you try to get him to trust you before helping him — which proved easier than you thought. "Tenko, do you know where your parents are? Mama? Papa?"

He knows. The place where he killed them. A pile of stone and ash under the rubble of their home. Tenko's eyes start to water, and soon, tears pour from his dry eyes as his face distorts in a pained expression. He's tired of crying. Memories from that night started to flood his mind. He didn't mean to do it...

"I... ki- killed... them..." He stays silent. Only the sound of his crying comes out of his chest. Tenko expects you to run away, abandon him like everyone else has been doing. As you remain speechless, he feels a burst of guilt through his body. He waits for you to leave him. Your stillness doesn't even give him anxiety.

At first, you thought he was lying, but Tenko wished it was all just a bad dream. Maybe they abandoned him, or he was lost. A small child that seemed too weak to protect himself, could kill his own parents? He stares down at his bloody hands. You were right. It's not his blood. In a world full of people with powerful quirks, children would inevitably hurt themselves or their loved ones. As time passes, his cries become louder and hysterical. His mouth opens as if he wants to scream, but only weak noises and unintelligible words come out of his mouth.

"Tenko..." You whisper to the child to try and soothe him before reaching out to hold his hand. The dried blood sticks to your skin for a brief moment, but you don't mind — after all, it's not the first time. His hysterical crying stops shortly as the flashbacks of his parents' death stop. Tenko's hands recoil from yours, dropping the empty bottle to the concrete as he stares at you in horror.

The tips of your fingers begin to crumble, turning into a lifeless gray color before becoming dust and sprinkling the ground. Suddenly, all his itching comes back. Worsening to nearly every inch of skin on his body. He did it again. All he can do is destroy. The only person that offered to help him would turn to dust, just like his family. He was useless, only harming people close to him. Unworthy and undeserving of love. You weren’t fazed compared to the boy whose traumas were reawakened.

Tenko collapses backward before landing on his bum, scratching his neck as he watches intently. He thinks you'll start screaming, running away, or lifting your hand to strike him, but you don't. You aren't moving, only watching and completely unbothered. Perhaps you are already dead and lifeless. Everything he touches dies. Why did it hurt to see you crumble?

Then, as if it's magic, the decaying stops. Skin and bones that were once gray and hard returned to their original color. The flesh in your hand grows back to normal like nothing happened.

"Is this your quirk, Tenko?" His scratching stops. He stares dumbfoundedly at your hand in disbelief. Although he is still a bit shaken, he answers.

"Y- Yes..." Tenko isn't quite sure what a quirk is, but, after being alone for a few days, he learns about his destructiveness.

You give Tenko a warm smile and offer the boy a helping hand. He's too scared to hold it, afraid he'll kill the only person that has treated him nicely. Upon noticing his demeanor, you decide to reassure him.

"I should've asked about it before scaring you, honey. I'm sorry, don't worry. My quirk is immunity. After I come in contact with a quirk, I am immune to it." Your quirk wasn't the most intriguing, but it came in handy when dealing with children whose quirks were still hard to control. Tenko seemed confused as you spoke, so you changed your wording until he understood. "If you touch me again, I'll be fine." You explained while beaming down at the boy.

Your immunity quirk always seemed difficult to explain to people. It was complex. It only worked with quirk-types that were close-range and didn't cause much damage. To use it, you need the life source from a living being such as plants, animals, and humans. Taking a being's energy usually resulted in their death. You learned this the hard way. It would become lifeless; the last time you used it on a human, they looked almost mummified — dried up like a raisin in the sun. Eventually, they would turn to dust as all the life drained from their bodies. Perhaps you weren't scared of Tenko's quirk because yours was more or less the same.

After taking energy, you could use it for your immunity and even healing. You can regrow limbs and other wounds, just like now with Tenko. When your energy was full, you could even use it on others to heal them, something you did with your students almost every day. However, you could never use it on humans or animals, not anymore. In the past, you would only use it to defend yourself but the overwhelming feeling of guilt eroded your morality as you watched your victims turn to dust.

The boy's trembling hands hold yours, half expecting you to turn into stone like his family and half elated that you were still intact.

"See? I'm okay... You won't hurt me. Don't be scared..." You hold his other hand and lift him up, he stumbles a bit before finding his balance.

Tenko's legs weakly support him from falling, he seems extremely malnourished and weak. His diet consisted of random trash and unfinished food from the garbage of local restaurants. Some days, he would sleep in alleys hungry as his stomach would painfully rumble. His limbs are so frail; without his quirk, he would be utterly defenseless. Another cold gust of wind causes him to shiver, and you realize that the sun had been setting fast. It was almost dark out, there was no way that you would leave him alone.

It would have been wiser to send him to a police station or a hero on patrol. But, if he had been walking alone for days, could you trust them to care for him? You saw them, the passersby who ignored the little boy. He must've encountered a police officer or a hero at some point, but of course, there were more things important than a missing child. What would the police do? Send him to an orphanage when he clearly seemed traumatized and had a strong quirk that could easily harm others. You experienced this first-hand.

You weren't sure why he seemed so traumatized. He didn't look like a murderer — but his bloody fingers say otherwise. He needed help and guidance. You've seen children like him before. Broken and lost souls who have endured unbearable pain and lash out at others because they're scared. Nobody is there to defend them. Nobody wants to protect them.

"W- Will you punish m- me..?" His question breaks you from your long thought. Tenko's still holding your hands and staring up at you with big doe eyes, pleading for you not to abandon him.

"And why would I do that?"

"B- Because I did a bad thing and I hur- hurt my family..." Sniffling, his head hangs low in shame and guilt. Some of his tears hit the dry concrete pavement. Your hands released his. For a second, he thinks he has scared you away. Until he notices your hand reaching for his head. As you watch him flinch, you think he's been beaten before. It was until he felt the pads of your fingers caress the pale blue locks that he finally relaxed.

"I won't punish you, Tenko," He eases into your touch as you move the hair out of his face in a motherly manner. "You must've been through a lot..." His sniffling stops as you finish your sentence. You examine his scars and terribly cracked skin. You're too weak to heal him in your current state. "Do you want to come home with me? We can have dinner and stay warm. It's getting colder now..."

Tenko shyly nodded up at you. He was extremely eager to finally receive help. A home? It's been a long time since he's seen a warm bed and eaten home-cooked meals. His stomach roared a bit, a sign that he was getting hungry. You chuckled softly before responding.

"Alright, let's go... My car should be close by here." You held his tiny hand in your palm as you escorted him to your car. He stuck close to your body like glue.

After walking for some time, you would occasionally glance down at the child who aimlessly followed you. Noticing his bare feet on the pavement of the ground, you were a bit worried that he might scratch his feet while walking on the gravel. You offered to hold him in your arms until you reached the car; you swore, for a brief moment, his eyes lit up excitedly. When you hoisted the boy into your arms bridal style, he snuggled closer to your body, desperately wanting to feel the embrace of another being.

When you reached the car, you quickly unlocked the passenger door and strapped him inside a child car seat — you figured that you needed to buy it after becoming a teacher for emergencies such as this. The drive home was quiet; you tried talking to the boy and becoming familiar with him, but it seemed he trusted you already. A few minutes passed before you noticed him sleeping. His soft snores echoed through the car quietly.

After parking near your apartment complex, you exited the car and tried waking him. After a few attempts, he finally woke up to see your figure looming over his before smiling down at him. Tenko still seemed a bit tired. It had been a long time since he finally had a comfortable place to stay. You decided to carry the child into your building, craddling him in your arms. A few of the other tenants gave you some strange glances as they saw you with the helpless child, but none of them dared to question you. It's not like you minded their behavior too much. The life in your arms was your only priority.

As you led him inside your apartment, you placed him on his feet; you didn't care about the dirt he tracked on your floors. You watched as he marveled at the various house plants that decorated your home, so green and luscious. Snake plants, pothoses, and peace lilies were only some of the greenery that filled your apartment. For as long as you remember, you've had a fondness for plants after deciding to only use your quirk for good. Placing your fingertips on some of your plants, you absorbed all of their life energy since you would need it for your quirk later. Tenko failed to see some of the plants you touched wilt as he was mesmerized by the rich and lively nature in your home.

"Tenko, let's go wash up first, okay? Then we can eat and relax." You say after gaining enough energy to heal some of his wounds and scars.

You grasp his hand and take him to your bathroom. After putting a stool under the sink, you help hoist his body to the counter. Tenko stares at himself in the mirror, not recognizing himself anymore. Cracked skin and deep scars cover his face. His pale blue hair nearly frightens him. At this moment, he realizes he's become a ghost of who he used to be.

"Everything okay, honey?" You ask while holding his shoulder and rubbing smooth circles into his back.

"My skin..." His shaky voice barely allows him to say an audible sentence. He hasn't scratched his sore body in a while, but seeing it in a mirror makes his skin itch again.

"I'll take care of it, don't worry... how about we wash our hands first?" He brings his hands to the sink while you turn on the faucet and pump drops of soap into his palms.

Your hands intertwine as you help him wash the blood until his skin is clean. The red liquid flows down the drain, and memories of his parents' death slowly vanish as well. Somehow, the feeling of sticky blood touching your skin doesn't faze you. Your hands have been soiled by the blood of your victims; it doesn't matter how often you wash them, it still lingers.

When you're done, you turn him around to face you. Your fingertips only graze his skin lightly, but soon, the dry spots on his face begin to heal. Although some of his scarrings are still visible, they begin to fade and blend in with his skin. Some of his skin retains the same texture, and his eyelids and eyebags are still cracked, although most of his face is healed. A few specks of black hair peak through his sky blue hair. Once satisfied, you turn the boy around to face the mirror.

"Do you feel any better?" Tenko's eyes widened in shock. His skin, now soft and supple, was healed. Some dryness remained in some areas and a few scars were still visible, but he didn't complain. You didn't notice the black pigment in his hair too much, he did. Giving you a joyous toothy smile, he was the complete opposite of his quiet demeanor.

"It doesn't itch anymore, y- you fixed it... Thank you..." Turning around, he gave you a big hug and nearly engulfed your body with his slender arms.

"You're welcome, Tenko." You chuckled before hugging him back warmly. When you tried to pull away, he only held you tighter.

"Come on, I'll wash you up and heal the rest of your wounds." Tenko nods as you disappear briefly to a nearby closet. You retrieve an old pajama set you intended to gift one of your students, but you figured Tenko needed it more.

He smiled brightly upon seeing you hold his pajamas, wanting to change out of his old clothes. Tenko enjoyed the warm water against his skin during his bath. His muscles eased into your hold. You needed to change the water a few times as you cleaned him since it quickly turned a murky, brown color.

He tried holding some of the toys you placed in the bath for him, but, when he wasn't careful, the toy would turn to stone before falling into the water. Every time it happened, he would become saddened; his puppy eyes always made you tear up. You would quickly distract him by giving him a few tickles on his sides until the bathroom walls filled with his laughter. After his bath, you healed his scars and itchy skin with your quirk and some moisturizer created by your friend, Mitsuki, with her Glycerin quirk.

Dinner was quite stressful when deciding what to feed the boy. You wanted to make him a big hearty meal since he desperately needed nutrition. But as you watch the hungry boy follow you closely, you decide to make a simple chicken soup. Adding carrots, onions, pasta, potatoes, and chicken to your flavorful stock, the aroma filled your apartment. After you filled his bowl with dinner, he eagerly ate and drank all of its contents; you gladly gave him more servings and observed as he indulged before eating.

After eating, you excuse yourself to clean up and let the boy explore your apartment more. However, Tenko seemed adamant about staying close to you, clinging to your legs and hips as he watched you wash the plates and stack them to dry.

"Do you... need help?" He offered while watching you meticulously clean up the mess from dinner. Of course, you declined.

"No, I'm fine, Tenko. Besides, you need to rest soon." You didn't want to tire him out, although his meal gave him more energy. You also couldn't risk him disintegrating some of your expensive porcelain plates.

As you fiddled with the plates on your counter, you felt him release his hold on your leg and move elsewhere in your kitchen. He stopped at a bouquet of red roses and eyed up the flowers. They were a gift from someone who tried to court you recently. The relationship eventually fizzled out. You completely forgot about the flowers that were surprisingly still in good shape. A brief vision of Tenko playing in a backyard crosses your mind; he's carefree, running around and smiling without worrying about his quirk.

Tenko tries to carefully pull a rose from your bouquet. He releases a wince as thorns prick his dainty fingers. Trying to feel the petals of the rose, all five of his fingers accidentally touched the rose at once. Soon, the flower begins to wilt and decay, turning into gray dust in his palms until a few petals and parts of its stem remain. His whimpers break you from your daydreams as you rush over to him and leave the rest of the plates to dry.

"Tenko... What happened?" You whisper to him after seeing the dead flower in his hands. Kneeling down and wrapping your arm around his waist, he finally responds.

"I'm sorry... I just wanted to look... I didn't mean to break it..." While he speaks, more tears swell up in his glossy eyes.

"Tenko..." You whisper while holding another rose from the bouquet. "I realized something. You and I are the same." As you touch the flower, it begins to wilt as well. You take all of its meager life energy while Tenko watches you repeat the same action he does.

"T- The same?"

"Yes, our quirks..." His gaze shifts from the dead plant in your hand to your face. "I grow flowers because I don't want to use my quirk to hurt people anymore. I know you feel guilty, but it's not your fault... I'm not mad."

Your words only cause a fraction of his pains to disappear. You notice that he still feels horrible about ruining your roses. Standing up, you reach for an old box in the corner of your kitchen. He watches you open the lid and pull out a pair of gloves and a wooden beaded necklace. You kneel down to his height before handing him the items.

"When I was your age, I used to have problems with my quirk too. These helped me." The gloves block contact with living things you didn't want to take energy from. While the necklace canceled out your quirk from appearing whenever you did not want to use it.

Tenko slips the gloves around his hands while you put the necklace around his neck. They both fit perfectly. You wonder if this encounter was fate or luck.

"They can stop you from using your quirk until you learn to control it." He tries to touch a random cup in the room and is amazed to see that the object is still intact. You decide to take the gloves from him and keep him wearing the necklace. "Look at the time... I think it's time for you to head to sleep now."

Placing the gloves on the counter, you take him to your bedroom. His eyes examined the whole apartment as you walked with him. Full of curiosity, he glanced over every detail. Once you stopped in front of your door, Tenko stopped.

"This is my room. You can come in here whenever you'd like." You say before pointing to a room adjacent to yours. You unlocked the door and tried showing him inside. "This is your room. My friends usually sleep here, but you can have it if you'd like." The boy started shaking his head and clinging to your hips again before speaking.

"N- No... Can I sleep in your bed... with you..?" He sheepishly asked while peering up at you; Tenko's eyes pleaded; he wouldn't take no for an answer.

You give in and carry him to your bedroom. Perhaps he should stay with you, just in case something happens while you're away. As you sit on the end of your bed, he climbs into your lap and refuses to move. Tenko's mouth moves as he tries to find the words to complete a sentence. You brush some of his hair away from his face while staring into his crimson eyes.

"What's wrong? Do you need something, sweetie..?"

"Why d- did you rescue me?" For a moment, his eyes become glossy again. Regardless of the happiness he's shown you today, his emotional state was as fragile as glass.

"You know... there was a time when I was scared and alone." His ears perked up as he listened. Your childhood pains flooded into your mind again. "I used my quirk for bad things. I even hurt people I cared about. I was confused and didn't have anyone to guide me..."

His head rests on your chest, just above your beating heart — a reminder that you were a living human who didn't succumb to his quirk. After pausing for a second, you continue once seeing the boy become intrigued by your story.

"You were alone for a long time, right? You thought nobody would save you and wondered why the world forgot about you? I know that feeling too..." His eyes brimmed with tears before they cascaded down his cheeks and dampened his shirt. "I'm sorry the heroes were too busy, and others ignored you..."

A few drops of his tears spilled onto your shirt, but you didn't mind too much. Deciding to let him release his emotions instead of keeping them inside, you allowed him to cry out all of his pain. While kneading his shoulder, you thought about what would happen next. Thankfully tomorrow was the weekend, but you had to call in soon and take some vacation days.

Tenko needed clothes and other things for him to use, but you two could share for the time being. Although you were a bit wary, you would have to take him to a nearby police station soon. He seemed really attached to you; sending him to an orphanage would be extremely dangerous. You were the only one who could handle his quirk.

"I can take care of you if you'd like." For a long time, you've always had a soft spot for children who endured a similar upbringing. There were always a few in the classes you taught. You couldn't help but give them extra attention. "Will you let me raise you? I can help you control your quirk and learn to master it..."

Tenko eagerly nods as he wraps his arms around your neck. You hear him mumble a few words as you gently caress his back. The boy melts into your touch; again, he doesn't want to release you from his hold.

As a few seconds pass, you feel him tug at your shirt and whisper your name.

"...thank you for saving me."

[penvisions]

return the favor {chapter 17}

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Bad luck seems to be attracted to you as your little trio travels West. Things seem to begin looking up despite the weather change in the ways of trees shedding their leaves and the air chilling.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: canon typical violence, fighting, survival skills, ptsd, mentions of injuries (brief), panic attack, depression, confessions, revealing past traumas, talk of past partners, animal violence, blood, gore, spiraling thoughts for both reader and joel, intense emotions of failure, memory issues, loss of short term memory, mentions of past pregnancy (brief), allusions to miscarriage (brief)

A/N: this dives a little into some hardships before it turns things around. please bear with me, the angst and tension will be high just as it progressed during the show. but i'm trying to sprinkle in some good things with the time skip between kansas city and jackson.

also!! this story has hit over 100k in words! i'm so so proud of myself for sticking with this despite the personal issues i've had and the way i've tended to push this to the back burner in order to pursue other, lighter fics. but i did it! and i hope ya'll like this new installment ♡ 

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was quiet as your trio made their way alongside a thick swath of buildings that made up what was once a town in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska. You were in a weird fog of instincts and antibiotics, your body on autopilot as it trudged on, a small figure in front of you and a large one in front of it. The sun was waning, dusk beginning to take over and shelter was needed.

“Are we gonna stop and check anything out?”

“Not today. Too quiet, haven’t seen so much as a bird within five miles.”

You remained quiet, your entire left arm aching in a way that only broken and growing bones could. It was torture, not having enough pain medication to take it regularly enough to stave off the feeling. The need to save it instilled deep into your psyche at this point. Save, hoard, hold, keep. For more serious things, for those you travelled with. For those you cared about.

“Don’t you want to stop? See if there’s anything we need or to sleep inside. It’s been forever.” Ellie turned around to face you, but her questioning halted as she took in the way you were barely picking up your feet, the slight sway to your head as you kept your eyes wandering to take in your surroundings. As she took in the blank look and the touch of suppressed pain behind your sharp eyes. She was whirling back around to face Joel’s back so fast that her hair swung and the sight of it made you a little dizzy and certainly a little nauseous.

“Joel.”

“No, Ellie, no quit askin’,” He turned his head to the side to aim a mild glare at her, not wanting to do this for the umpteenth time since leaving Kansas City. She had been quiet that first week, though she seemed to be coming back into herself more. “It’s dangerous here and the sooner you understand that, the sooner we can-“

His words trailed off as her own had done when he caught sight of you. The exhaustion clear even at a glance over his shoulder. You were up and walking, your eyes taking in the scene but there was the air of something that unnerved him surrounding you. You were sweating, the damp ring around the collar of your shirt a little too dark for the chill that permeated the days and even more so at night. Your skin looked sallow, almost waxy even from the distance he was at. He called your name and your eyes snapped to him, though he had a feeling it was more instinct that was driving you than actual awareness.

“You don’t-

“I know.”

“Maybe we should stop-“

“No, keep going.”

“You-“

“Keep. Going.” You frowned at him, the pull of your lips downward urging him to turn his head back around and focus on picking his way through the trees. “Get us away from the town, it’s obvious there’s people holed up somewhere around here. Seen traps strung up all around.”

“Next town.” Was all the man said as he continued on, pulling a map out from the inside pocket of his jacket. “It’s another twenty miles. We settle tomorrow. Take stock of things.”

“Go another hour and then we stop for the night.” You looked over your shoulder at the hush of something moving around in trees, moving around you. Your eyes landed on a wire, the leaves of a low hanging limb brushing against it in the slight breeze. “Fast.”

Joel picked up on the way your words had hardened, though had been spoken in a lower tone. He turned and his eyes followed to where yours were trained as you stayed right behind Ellie. The wire was easy to spot, to him at least and to you. It was a trip wire, low to the ground. His steps picked up and he kept an alert attention on the area in front of him, on the area he was leading you both through.

“Ellie, please be quiet until then.” You didn’t address her harshly or with any venom in your words. It was a whispered plea. She nodded, staying in her place between you and Joel as she continued to follow the man through the foliage.

No fire was lit that night.

Protein bars were scarfed down despite the heaviness and grittiness of them.

You didn’t sleep and neither did Joel, both of you too anxious to do so. You had traveled another two hours instead of one, worried about a tail. Joel had done his best to cover your traps and you both had the same idea to make obvious tracks leading in the opposite direction of where you intended to camp for the night.

Come morning, you had finally felt the stress of yesterday wash over you. You were tempted to unwrap the bandages and check on your stitches but there was a pull on them that told you the scabbing was just right and would be okay for another day. You had sweat all through your underlayers as you sat up against the bark of a tree trunk. It was concerning the flashes of heat that worked over your body despite the chills that pebbled your skin. Fever. You made sure to take your next dose of antibiotics on time, eating a can of soup to help settle the heaving feeling that had settled over you.

No one asked for anything other than protein bars but hadn’t protested when you opened a can of something for yourself.

The day was slow, your feet dragging and heavy despite trying to overcome the lag you felt settling into your muscles. You and Ellie were currently waiting on the tree line on the outskirts of a gas station nestled on a dirt road that had been overgrown with kudzu. The plant was already such an invasive species and even more so now in the wake of everything. The thick, lush leaves of it a rich green as everything else began its annual deterioration. Autumn was here, the days shorter and the sun not as hot. Both a relief and a concern.

Once Joel deemed it safe enough, he waved you both over.

You found yourself being ushered inside, there was a cot in the back storage part of the store. Your pack was being pulled from your shoulders and the machete in your grip was being gently pried from you. You felt wide palms guide you down onto the cot, Joel kneeled down and place his hands on the top of your thighs. He caught your gaze and his brow furrowed, mouth frowning as he took in the state you were in.

“Darlin’, you really don’t look too good.”

“Fever. Antibiotics are doing the best they can but with this kind of break it’s a lot on the body.” You wanted to melt into his warmth, chills trailing down your back. You wanted to bury your face in the denseness of his chest, cradle your hands in the softness of his middle. To just lay atop him as if it was an easy, lazy Sunday morning in the time of Before. But that was a luxury you would never get to indulge in.

You could almost cry for the loss of it. For the opportunity that didn’t exist. For the softness that could be in the world as it was.

“I’ll go hunt, you need some protein to help. Ellie will keep watch, just rest.” He leaned forward and placed his chapped lips to your forehead in a comforting move. He looked as if he didn’t want to leave you side, his big brown eyes roving over you as you struggled to keep your head up. “I won’t be long and then you can sleep. I’ll come back to you, darlin’.”

“Copy that.” You whispered as you notched your head froward to place a kiss of your own to the corner of his mouth. He placed a parting kiss to the crown of your head, and you laid down atop the bed he had cleared of dust.

You could hear Ellie’s small voice wavering in and out of your addled mind, spiking high in some instances but remaining at its typical volume, it was paired with the deep rumbling of Joel’s every so often. You weren’t sure what day or time it was, body caught in in fighting off the alternating heat that overwhelmed you and the chills that pebbled your skin. You were sweating profusely and your entire body was one big ache as your muscles tried to combat it. You felt your lungs burn as you panted, mouth parted as you tried to regulate some part of any of it, to no avail.

Everything was a blur for the next few days, colors and vision fading in and out, voices doing so as well.

That was when you heard the terrifying snarl that jarred you from the edge of your semi-consciousness.

It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even Infected.

“BEAR!” Joel’s shout shook through your entire body, your bones hurting from the fear that slammed into you. You were rushing to your feet before you could even think, stuffing what little had been removed from your bag back into the fabric and you pulled it tight, good arm yanking back with the force of the movement and stinging as the muscles flexed.

The sheathed machete found its rightful spot on your belt and you were out the door in a matter of moments, eyes desperately sweeping over open space in front of the gas station. Joel was nowhere to be seen but Ellie was just now breaking through the tree line and rushing toward you. Her expression was panicked and there was a bright flush to her face as she panted heavily. Her gun was in her hand but she wasn’t firing it or keeping it at chest height ready to aim if she needed to.

“Joel-“

“Old man’s okay. Snares were full and the fuckin’ thing came outta nowhere. He slammed into me and told me to get back to you.”

“Joel!” The fear in your voice was masked by the sheer volume of it. Your shout carrying over the dilapidated expanse of the road that was clinging to its former life. Ellie flinched beside you, the sudden volume catching her off guard and startling her badly.

“I’m sorry, gremlin.” Your good hand was going around her shoulder and pulling her to you in a loose embrace. Her hands slowly lowered from where she had raised them to cover her ears. “What direction did you come from?”

She was about to answer, her entire body buzzing as the adrenaline still washed over her in heavy waves but the loud rustling and sound of breaking tree branches had you both whipping around to face the trees to the right of the small clearing. Joel had barely made it past the last trees before he was knocked to the ground. His knees collided hard with the broken asphalt of the ground but he quickly tucked his body as small as it would go and he turned to aim his gun at the large shadow a brown bear was making over him. He fired two shots, but the bear swiped at him, and the gun went flying from his grip.

“RUN!” He didn’t dare chance a look over his shoulder as he scrambled to his feet, the bear being slowed down only minimally with its own instincts taking over. “Don’t even think of steppin’ in!”

Your heart was beating fast in your ribcage, body numb and on autopilot as you watched Joel stand to his full height. He chanced a glance over his shoulder as he scrambled after his thrown gun. The bear slumped to all fours, panting heavily as bubbles of blood fell from its mouth, saliva hanging down in long drooling lines. The bright red jarring.

Joel didn’t pause once the gun was picked back up, he fired another shot, but it seemed to anger the struggling predator and you were ushering Ellie ahead of you, Joel close on your heels. The trees rustled around your little trio as you ran as fast as you could. Ellie shouted out in surprise when the crashing of the bear sounded behind all three of you, with ear splitting growls and snarls.

Ellie’s sneaker caught on a root, and she started to fall, her hands shooting out in front of her to try and catch herself. You scrambled with your one good hand to grab the back of her jacket, but it pulled off from her shoulders and you let it go, not wanting it to come off her altogether without her pack on both shoulders.

“Fuck, Joel, I can’t help her!” You shouted, angry at yourself for not being able, for being injured and unable to provide anything for the group except extra work. She was trying to push herself back up but started whimpering as she did so. Joel ran past you and scooped her up into his arms with a worried look back at you, the crashing of trees getting louder as the bear closed the head start you had gotten.

“Just get her safe!” You shouted as you stood your ground and pulled your colt from the holster at your side. You started firing the second the bears dark color could be seen between the trees. It snarled at you as it continued to race toward you and you were switching the handle of the colt to the hand of your slung up arm, reaching for your machete and raising it high as you rushed toward the boulder that Ellie nearly hurdled into, getting a little more height to swing the blade down hard into the neck of the hurtling beast. It severed muscles and hit bone and the blade settled deep into the animal as it began to thrash in an attempt to loosen it.

It roared, the sound waning off into a choking gurgle as blood spewed everywhere. The drops that hit your skin were warm and it made your stomach roll. It fell to the ground, the weight of it kicking up dust and its paws twitched toward you as it took its final, wheezing breaths. The gun fell from your hand, the machete still embedded into the neck of the now dead bear in front of you. Your vision blurred, mind hazy as you realized how far in the trees you were and utterly alone.

You fell to your knees after stepping from the boulder. Breath coming out hard and fast, hurting as it pushed past your lips. You looked down at your injured arm, slung up with cloth tied around your shoulder.

Pain was searing and throbbing from a long scratch, a swipe from the bear you hadn’t even realized had made contact, too focused with burying your blade into the thing’s neck. It didn’t appear to be too deep, but it would take a while to heal, the sleeves of your shirt and jacket shredded. Suddenly your vision was filled with a blurry face. His brown eyes were glittering, and his face was moving as if he was talking to you but you couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in your ears.

You blinked a few times, trying to focus but realized it was because of tears that you couldn’t see properly, and you hiccupped as your breath stalled. You reached for him, with both hands, crying out at the pain that seared in your left arm with the action.

“Taylor, I’m so sorry. I don’t- it- it- I had to! I’m sorry I left the cabin-“ The hands you could feel on your shoulders stilled, the man in front of you freezing at your slurred words. Ears still ringing and tears still falling, you tried to catch your breath, but it was harder and harder to. The edges of your vision grayed out, your entire body feeling like a limb that had fallen asleep and suddenly you were falling to the ground as unconsciousness tugged you down. You couldn’t feel the arms that were helping to guide you gently to the ground.

“Uh, what the fuck?” Ellie reached out for Joel’s arm, spooked by literally everything that had happened today. Her emotions crested and she was tugging at his arm, shaking it to get the man’s attention. The look on her face was a mixture of so many things, but fear. Fear was the one he could see the most, so fresh. So easily identifiable because he had seen it merely a week before for the first time in such a glaring way that he could pick it out of her smallest ticks and facials twitches now. “Joel, what the actual fuck?”

“I-I don’t know.” He stuttered and felt like a damn fool for it. Feelings of failure bubbling up in his middle, threatening to take over his mind and his body, take him away to a plane of existence that was debilitating thoughts and emotions too much for him to handle. It was all encompassing, to be on that that plane, so far away from it all but his body remained in a world of death and destruction, of failure, of repeated scenarios that he could never make the right decisions in.

“She called you Taylor. Was she hallucinating?”

“Ellie, please. Let’s get her back to the building and we’ll talk.” He stood from his position where he had slid to his knees in front of you. Worry had him placing Ellie down without so much as a glance at the now dead threat before focusing on your shocked form. He leaned down and picked you up as best he could, but with a pinched expression he turned back to her. “Can-“

“I can stumble well enough, she’s unconscious, she needs more help.”

“I’m sorry, Ellie.”

“For carrying me away from an attacking bear when I tripped?”

“For…for not hearin’ it get close to us in the first place.”

“I didn’t hear it either,” She fumbled with the knife in her hands, unsure of what to do with the man’s undivided and sincere attention on her.

You woke suddenly, with a deep gasp of air that startled both of your companions, who had just settled for the night. It was dark, but a lantern on the floor between them was enough to tell you they were okay.

“You’re okay, we’re okay. You did-“ He was up on his feet, standing beside the cot but looking for all the world as if he was afraid to reach toward you. His hands balling up into fists at his sides as he looked you over. “You did such a good job today, you protected us.”

“I-what?”

“…the bear?”

The silence that fell in the small room was heavy, weighted. You looked from Joel to Ellie, their eyes watching you. You took mental stock of how your body felt sluggish, your head a little dizzy, your left arm hurting from the very top to the very bottom, the entire length of it throbbing dully.

“…bear?”

“Shit.” Ellie’s worry was wrapped up all in that single word.

Your name in the air snapped you back to attention a little bit.

“Bear. Dream. Bad dream.”

“No, no, darlin’, that-“ Joel finally reached out to you, bringing your good hand between his own and you felt the warmth of his palms. “That was real. You don’t…you don’t remember?”

“It was real?” Joel didn’t like the realization that you had been so overcome by adrenaline and instinct that you don’t remember jolting from your sick bed and defending them in one of the most intense chain of events and didn’t even remember it. The devotion struck him close to his heart and all he wanted to do was pull you to him and hold you. Tell you what a good job you did, how sorry he was for forcing that out of you. For not being able to protect you in your most vulnerable state.

“I came running to you, do you remember that?” Ellie moved closer, standing from her sleeping bag she had been tucked into with a comic book. You watched as she limped toward you, the memory and phantom motions of reaching for her as she stumbled in front of you flashing through your mind and body. She reached her own hand out and placed it atop your knee. Comforting you in what ways she could. Joel guided the hand he held toward her own and he laid it atop her smaller one for you. He moved off to the side and retrieved his water bottle and set it in your lap.

“I- yes.” You gripped her hand tight in your own, fingers tangling with her smaller ones. “Joel carried you away because I couldn’t.”

“But you killed it.”

“Killed what?”

“…the bear?” Ellie tried again, to clear the fog in your mind.

“I’m not strong enough to kill a bear.” You huffed, getting annoyed at the merry go round of this conversation. “Not even strong enough to stand up without getting’ dizzy.”

“You shouldn’t be, but you did. You took care of us, and now we’re takin’ care of you, returnin’ the favor.” Joel stepped back into the conversation, seeing and sensing the confusion and annoyance flaring up in both of you as the conversation drew on.

“I didn’t kill a bear.”

“You did!” Ellie shouted, loud enough to startle you. She tore her hand from your own and went back to her sleeping bag. She rustled around for a second before coming back over to you and placed a giant fang in your hand. A bear canine. “You woke up out of whatever is goin’ on with you and you protected me, you protected Joel.”

“Oh.” Like it wasn’t the most important thing to happen today, like it didn’t mean everything.

Joel murmured quietly that you should eat, take another round of medication, and everyone should sleep. An hour later, food in your stomach that you still weren’t quite convinced was the bear you had killed earlier, and medicine dulling the pain and haze of your mind, you were back asleep with even breaths.

Joel and Ellie were quiet, the events of the day exhausting them but also worrying them.

“She-she called you Taylor.”

“She did, must’ve been in her mind.”

“But…you don’t look anything like him.”

“I – what?” Joel’s eyes snapped up to see her already looking at him, her small face scrunched up in confusion. “You been around this Taylor? He from the QZ?”

“He’s from the photos in her pack.”

“Ellie, you shouldn’t be snooping in people’s packs. What they keep in there is private.”

“She let me see! They fell out back in-in-“ She swallowed her words and took a shuddering breath. It took a moment for her to calm down. “When you were takin’ care of her nose bleed, they fell out of her pack and she let me see them.”

“Nosebleed…” A grunt sounded from him when he recalled the rather alarming moment back in Kansas City, as you all traveled underneath the city toward the hope of safety.

“He…he was important to her. She saw him in you.”

Such a simple statement, one that she had no idea of knowing would cause the beginning of the chain of events that it did.

“Everyone has someone that was important to them.”

“Like Tess?” She whispered, as if afraid to speak the name at normal volume.

“Like Tess.” He tried not to bark the words out, but they hurt his throat all the same. “Now sleep.”

It was early morning and Joel found himself rustling through your pack for the first aid kit. He had sliced along his hand as he tried to carve more of the bear for a decent breakfast. He would kill for some eggs to go along with the meat, but he hadn’t had them in so long he was sure they would upset his stomach.

The photos Ellie kept talking about crinkled with his digging efforts and he ignored the allure of fishing them out. It was your business, it was your past, it was your…trauma. He had no business looking upon them until you wanted him to, and even then, he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to. Had the right to.

They flitted out, taunting him. He was staring at the backs of them as they laid out on the floor where he was kneeled beside the pack. The faded blood splatter bright to his eyes despite the age, he could only imagine how much havoc must’ve been happening for something as small as an instant photo to get covered.

“You can look at them.”

The man startled at your words, you hadn’t been completely asleep for a while now. Waiting quietly in the waning darkness of the room, watching as the sun began to rise and send faint light into the abandoned building. It was colder than it had been recently, the chill in the air only a taste of the winter to come.

He looked over to you, frozen in place with his hands deep in your pack and his shoulders tense.

“’s not my place.”

“Joel, if you want to, you can. I’m not forcing you but I’m not tearing them out of your sight either.”

“Darlin’, you’ve been through a lot the past few days. Don’t want to add to it by being nosy.”

“But you want to.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I carry things, same way you do.” You fiddled with your hands in your lap as you moved your legs slowly to dangle over the edge of the cot, feet on the ground. “It helps me to talk about them, sometimes. But I’m not asking the same from you. I would never make you face something you don’t want to.”

He reached out to take the photos from your hand, an offering. His hands shook as he did so, not sure why he was so afraid of the flimsy, worn film. When he turned them over, his heart stuttered in his chest and his fingers gripped them tightly. The bump of your stomach through the dress panging in a way he hadn’t anticipated. You looked so happy, just like he was sure he did in the photos he had left behind in his house all those years ago. More focused on the girl in his care, the life he had to protect at all costs, his whole life in the bright smile she would beam at him even if he felt like he didn’t deserve it.

“Raiders.” Was all you said as he shuffled through them. He felt guilt again at not being able to help Tess, to give her something good to reflect on. Surely he had brought something to her life, for her to have stuck with him all those years. Surely she would have remembered him fondly and not just the hardships and haze of drugs and the struggle of power they had been fighting both before and inside the QZ. He felt a lump form in his throat, emotions getting the better of him.

“I…it was my fault. I hadn’t covered up my tracks well enough one day. They found our cabin and they came at us with everything they had, for everything we had. I carry the same things you do.” Your whispered words had him carefully placing the photos back into your pack and reaching for your empty hands. He gave them a squeeze before asking for your help at patching up his injured hand.

Snow had fallen during the night, prompting you to insist it was time to move far earlier than you normally would have. Busing yourself with setting up the small compact moka pot from your pack, you dug out the ash from the fire the night before. Joel had taken watch until around midnight, you taking over the second his head had hit the pillow and his even breathing sounded in the air alongside Ellie’s. She had insisted on being a part of the rotation, but you both vetoed it until further notice. She was still having nightmares, scrambling up at random times during the night with frantic movements to push someone who no longer existed off of her. Fighting, muttering under her breath, scared. Scarred.

Your ears took in the sounds of the crips morning, eyes tracking the pristine ground around your small set up. Joel and Ellie had instinctually moved toward one another in your absence from the sandwich you had created around her to keep her warm. You had donned a black beanie, giving her your other one that was a dark blue. They were insulated on the inside, lined with a once soft sherpa but it still did it’s job. Apologies had fallen from your lips at not having another for Joel but his hands intertwining with yours had been his way of calming you down, telling you he would be okay. That he wanted you both to be warm and he could go without until something came along.

You rinsed out the two thermos basins as best you could with snow, letting it melt inside over the fire before pouring it out off to the side. The splatter of hot water sizzling in the dusting that had begun to stick. Tearing open a packet of hot chocolate that had been hidden deep in your pack, you poured it into the chamber on the moka pot and placed it atop the makeshift frame over the fire. As soon as it began to rattle and bubble you poured it into Ellie’s thermos and moved on to put some of the ground coffee into the chamber, using your gloves as protection from the heated metal.

The two figures asleep behind you began to rouse, with little interaction, everything was packed up and they sat around the small fire to warm a bit before it was time to start the days trek.

Off in the distance, a log cabin sat on the frosty edge of the lake. It was the first sign of any type of human existence your trio had seen for days.

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[sachiko1309]

The good old Doc - Part 1

Summary: Lieutenant Lilith Adams enlisted back in the military, only to be met with a certain cocky pilot. Overcoming certain past traumas, she tries to fit in with the team of pilots as their personal medic. Soon finding her stuck between a certain good looking aviator and her work morals.

I plan on doing a series here, that is currently in progress, so I dont know how many parts will be there. I will link the following part in the previous one, when a new one is out.

Word count: 3103

Warnings: none

“May I introduce you: Dr. Lilith Adams.” Admiral Simpson strut into my office on the San Diego naval base, followed by a group of people. I looked up from my desk, smiling at Cyclone. He personally requested me back from my civilian status, but I refused to join the Navy several times. But I had to hold him for it, he was persistent. Finally giving in in my request to allow me to wear my old tactical gears and not the navy uniform, so I had many more freedoms than the rest of the people on base. Including not dressing in uniform. Sure, I had to follow rules such as the clothes must be practical, not revealing and work safe. For me that meant I wore black combat boots, black cargo pants and simple black shirts every day. The only colorful thing about me was my red colored hair. Something I had to fight for it to stay during my work in the military. After I dropped out, I colored my bond hair a flashy red and now I didn’t want to go back.

“Cyclone.” I smiled, getting up from my chair. Behind him I noted how everyone looked confused to why I was calling the Admiral by his callsign. He rounded my desk pulling me into a stiff hug, he always gave me. “Wifey.”

“To what do I owe you the pleasure?” I asked, letting my eyes wander over the group. Admiral Simpson turned back to the pilots: “I wanted you to get to know your new team. She will be the new asset to your team. I got ordered to provide special medical attention for your team since the last mission nearly killed three of you.” I tilted my head at his words. “A personal medic for your best babies, or what?” Cyclone straightened up at my comment using his commanding voice at me: “Those are all Top Gun graduates. The best of their classes. They fly the most dangerous missions and I want you to make sure, they survive as best as possible.”

A tall blonde man with green eyes stepped forward. “You heard him sweet cheeks. We are the best. We don’t need no babysitter.” He wore a smug half grin on his face, chewing on a toothpick. “Watch it blondie. I am not bound to the Navy honor code.” I retorted, squinting my eyes. He seemed not to be intimidated by my threat, rather persistent to get on my nerves. “Sure, Wifey. You must be a real tough one to be a medic here in beautiful San Diego, letting the sun warm your ass, while sipping coffee.” Before I could say anything, a darkhaired woman stepped around him, holding her hand out. “Shut it Bagman. Hi my name is Natasha ‘Phoenix’. Ignore him. He is a piece of shit always out to get on peoples nerves.” I grabbed her hand shaking it. “Phoenix.” Letting go of my hand she eyes me up and down. “How did you get your callsign?” I let out a small laugh. “I was the only woman on the last base I worked on. One guy confused me with his wife and from there on it was set. But I don’t go by that name anymore.” She scrunched her nose. “Why?”

“Well, technically I dropped out. I am surprised you didn’t pick on based on my clothes.” I answered. The man she called Bagman leaned around her. “If you are civilian, then why are you assigned to our team. I don’t think you have the classification for our mission details. So, whats your deal?”

I stepped up to him, putting my finger on my mouth, mimicking a thinking aristocrat. “Hmmm.” Tapping my finger on my lips, I made him wait. “I believe it’s the fact, that I slept my way up here…” Pausing to take in his shocked expression I suppressed a smile. “Or maybeee… It’s the fact that I survived five month of Taliban torture and dropped out for good. Only to be then persuaded back. And what woman can truly deny a man on his knees?”

“You are lying.” He simply said, tilting his head. This time it was the Admiral who backed me up. “She is not. We need her, that’s why she enlisted back. She has the same classification as you guys and is to be respected. I don’t want to hear any complaints from her. It was hard enough to get her back, don’t make me work any harder, because you cant behave, Lieutenant Seresin.”

Instantly the blond man straightened up, saluting briefly at the underlying threat. “Yes, Sir. I am sorry, Sir.” I chuckled at his certain stiffness. “Let him off easy, Cyclone. He didn’t know. Besides that, what extra work did it take you to allow me to wear my old tacs?” He grumbled, turning towards me. “You are on a navy base, not in the dessert of Afghanistan. As a Lieutenant you are required to dress a certain way with your uniform. And then the red hair, do you know how high up I had to take the phone calls?”

“You know how much worth I am. I am back because I want to be. I want to help the people who keep our country safe, but I do it on my terms. Always have. My old squad didn’t seem to mind, unlike you stiff birds up here.” I retorted. I knew what he had done to get me back and I was thankful he put himself in line of fire for it, but I didn’t want to miss out on certain aspects of being a former civilian. “And what does my clothes and hair color have to do with my work ability? You know better than anyone, that I am currently dressed down to the max, so don’t make it look like I am running around in underwear waving a bomb.”

Cyclone sighted, knowing I was a hard one to tip over. “I know, Lilith. Its just… Rules are rules and you are always one to bend them as much as possible.” I shrugged. “Well, like I said. If the Navy cant deal with red hair and black gear, than I’ll gladly sign back out.”

“Don’t you dare, leave me hanging, Wifey! We need you and you know that, so at least try to stay in line.” Simpson growled. I smiled at the fear in his eyes. “I will do my very best, Sir.” Saluting mockingly.

“Don’t Sir me, Lilith. At least not if not necessary.” He started walking towards the door. The talk seemingly finished for him. Grinning like the devil I called after him: “You got it, Ma’am.” That earned me a few chuckles from the pilots around me and a heavy sigh from Cyclone. Phoenix was the first to speak: “So whats your backstory with the Admiral? I haven’t seen him this overstrained like ever.” I started packing my things the clock on the wall slowly creeping towards the end of my shift. “Well… He practically raised me after my father bailed. Like not in a way of he was dating my mother, since he was, and still is, happily married to his wife. But I was friends with his daughter, so he offered to take me in, as often as possible, so my mother could work double shifts to make a living. He was devastated, when I enlisted in the army, so much he didn’t speak to me for a week.”

I started walking out of my office. Phoenix and her team on my heels. “He got around when I told him I was in for the medical way and not out in line of fire as he called it. It all went well, till I got ordered to Afghanistan shortly after I ended the training.” She interrupted my story. “But you look so young, how can you be a doctor?”

“I started right after high school, taking the hard route of only four years of medical school, then I enlisted in the army and was supposed to do the residential here. I got sent to Afghanistan shortly before they pulled back their divisions. It was hard out there you know? Being new to this shit, sent in a brewing civil war… And then shit went down, my squad got attacked, many died or got kidnapped, including me. I was in their hands for five months, but I got lucky…”

“Lucky?” A tall dark man called in from behind. “Sorry, my name is Reuben ‘Payback’.” Shaking his hand, I stopped walking. “Yes, I got lucky. I got the same treatment, as my male colleagues. Normally being a female in the hands of Taliban, they rape you as well as they torture you. Kind of using you as an incubator for their future soldiers, if you understand… I don’t know why I got spared, and I simply don’t want to think about it. We got rescued after five months by an undercover Seal team and then I dropped out. So, technically I am not a full doctor since I didn’t get to end my residential, but Simpson likes to brag with it and now I got my chance to finally finish up. It wont be the honorable finished at 26, since I already am 23 and need to start residential all over again, but I’ll manage.”

“That’s a hell of a story.” Bagman commented. “I am really sorry about what I said in there. I underestimated you.” Holding out his hand he asked: “I like to start new. My name is Jake, callsign Hangman.” I took his hand, staring in his glistering green eyes. He was good looking and he knew it. And that’s exactly the problem. He was my type. Tall, muscular, blond, cocky, persistent, driven by what he does. I could go on for hours, but a whistling pulled me out of my thought train. “Look at that. Hangman being nice to a girl. That usually just happens when he wants to do the deeds.”

“Shut it, Coyote. She wears a gun and is a medic. There are plenty of scenarios where she could bag me without ever raising suspicions. I simply want her on my good side.” He flicked his friend off, hanging an arm around my shoulder. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra attention from our cute little doc.” I rolled my eyes shuffling out under his arm. “Keep dreaming, Bagman.”

“I will.” He promised smirking. Flipping him off, I made my way to the locker room. The group split. Men to the left, Phoenix and me to the right. “I like you. Your sass is matching Hangman.” She chuckled, stripping herself from her clothes and stepping under the shower. Out of respect I averted my eyes to the floor. “Come on, you’re a medic. Is that bit of tits gonna make you blush like that?” She teased. I shook my head. “No… Its just... I have literally just met you. I didn’t want to intrude.”

“You are not intruding. We are both women, and I think we will see each other naked more times than we would probably have a hook up in the bar.” She smiled at me, washing the shampoo out of her hair. I must admit she looked good. Toned, but still feminine, the dark her slicked back. “You are staring, Wifey.” My face went red at her words. Turning around to hide my embarrassment I stripped out of my clothes taking the shower two to the left of her. She eyed my tattoos: “Wow, you got a lot of money left, being that inked.” I shrugged. “The only form of body jewelry I can wear during work.” Nodding at my statement she changed the topic: “So, what are you thinking of Hangman?” Her question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You two are looking at the other like you would jump at each other the moment you were alone. Not to disappoint you, he looks like that at every woman he finds attractive, but those are mostly dressed very revealing. So, you pulling that reaction out of him in tac gear, made me curious.” She answered, stepping out of the shower, and reaching for a towel. I sighted. “You are seeing things, Phoenix. I mean yes, he is hot and all, but a total prick. And I don’t want to get into more trouble in work than necessary.”

“That he is…” She pondered at my statement. “But you wouldn’t be in trouble. Neither of you are superior to the other in rank and since you are a medic and therefor not directly part of the team the rules of chastity wont apply.” I laughed drying me off as well. “That’s not what I meant. But Simpson would probably grill me, if he found out I was sleeping with one of his pilots. You know he takes on the role as protective father very seriously. Not to mention he would make Hangman run miles until he throws up.”

Phoenix was now in underwear fighting her hair into a bun. “That alone would make it worth it. Hangman could use a little ego check.” I turned to her, a wicked grin on my lips. “That I can do.” I watched Phoenix put on her dress uniform. “Going on a date?” I teased, sitting in an old tank top and shorts. She shook her head. “Nahh. My girlfriend is out of town and I like to brag in the hard deck.”

“The hard deck?”

“It’s a bar on the beach. We daggers go there every Friday. You should come.” She offered looking me up and down. “Well not in those clothes unless you want to be left alone.”

Getting up from the bench, I hooked my arm under hers, grabbing my bag. “How about we test your theory according to bagman not being able to leave his hand of a woman?” She perked up at my words. “What do you have in mind?”

“Remember when I told Simpsons how I was dressing down during work?” I asked making my way through the corridors of the base. We were soon met with the eyes of the team. Probably giving an odd pair resulted in the boys staring. Payback and Coyote let there eyes linger a bit, before turning back to their conversation. But Hangman was looking me up and down hungrily. “Got some ink going, wifey.” He commented. I shrugged and didn’t answer him.

Turning towards the group I raised my voice. “So, since I am going to be your personal medic, I at least want names, because I am certainly not going to call you by your enlistment numbers.” A tall brown haired man with a mustache stepped forward. “Lieutenant Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw.” Shaking his hand I nodded. His whole demeanor was exuding confidence, probably a playful guy like Hangman. The next was a shy, unobtrusive man with dirty blond hair and glasses. “Lieutenant Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd. I am Phoenix WSO.” His handshake was timid, but he seemed like a nice guy to be around. The last one I didn’t know was a man with darker skin and a short haircut. Not shaking my hand he nodded at me. Lieutenant Javy 'Coyote' Machado." I noted him avoiding physical contact for later meetings. Like Phoenix they were all wearing their dress uniform.

Phoenix pulled me back. “See you guys later. But I need to get Wifey here in some good clothes or otherwise she will get thrown out of the hard deck for looking too homeless. Save a table.” I followed her out in the parking lot. “Where do you live?”

“Ten minutes down the beach. Keep up with me, if you can.” I smiled cockily swinging my ass over my bike. Roaring the engine at the guys who came out of the base. I waited until Phoenix was in her car, before I swerved out on the streets, making my way through the busy traffic. It took us longer than ten minutes to get home, but we finally managed. Pushing my bike into the garage I walked over to Phoenix letting her in my small beach house.

From the outside it looked rather normal with its white, washed down wooden planks and blue roof tiles. But on the inside, it was rather different. Every room had its own theme and color. The kitchen being black and dark green with lots of herbs and black porcelain. LEDs were settled into the ceiling lighting it up bright whenever I cooked. My living room was in a dark ocean blue picking up the clean esthetic from the kitchen. A simple wooden bar with different kinds of light bulbs was spanned across the ceiling, letting them hang in different heights. Here and there were books sprawled out, the walls covered in graphic pictures of fantasy and vintage paintings.

I signaled her to follow me up the spiral staircase in the corner leading up to my bedroom and bathroom. With the bathroom being completely covered in black tiles and crystal white ceramics. A golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Walking into my bedroom I opened up the closet. My bedroom was dominated by my king sized bed with black bedding. The walls being colored in a dark yet rich purple. In here I opted for lamps looking like candles attached to the walls.

“Now I start to understand, what you meant with dressed down. Your house looks wild.” Phoenix mumbled, settling in the armchair in the corner. I laughed at her statement. “Wild. That’s something I have never heard about my house.” She smiled at me. “I mean it. Its bad ass. Something that needs a lot of balls to be pulled off.”

Reaching into my closet I pulled out a black bodysuit and a see through lace dress. “What you think?” Her eyes grew wide. “Fuck yeah. Hangman will be drooling. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, because he will murder me, but he is a little black bat at heart. You know listening to metal, having a soft spot for tatted chicks…”

I chuckled getting dressed, for make up I choose to do a simple mascara and eyeliner thing, since I didn’t want my face to melt of in the heat. The drive on my bike dried my hair completely giving it a wavy and voluminous look. I combed through it a bit, to make it less forest witch and more beach kissed. Twirling around I waited for Phoenix statement. “Looking hot there, sweet cheeks.” Laughing she quoted Hangman.

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Chapter 21: Baatir (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Baatir. v. care, worry about

Chapter summary: You and Hunter spend some time getting to know Pabu.

Chapter warnings: mentions of anxiety and vigilance as a trauma response; dialogue lifted directly from the show but not a 1-to-1 translation of 02x13; Hunter (a warning all on his own); slightly suggestive so 16+ but this entire work is building to 18+ so minors skedaddle; if I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 3,239

< Previous chapter | Next chapter >

You misunderstood Phee Genoa, you quickly realize.

Warm, salty air fills your lungs with a heavy sense of comfort, one that is both reassuring and unsettling. Gazing up at the large stone structure at the edge of the courtyard, you fidget with your exoskeletal armor. Sweat beads against your skin and collects in your curves; you grimace, wondering if it would be rude to step away to doff the exoskeleton. But you don’t want to miss out on the conversation carrying on just a few feet away.

Shep Hazard and his daughter Lyana had graciously greeted you as you disembarked your ship, and embraced Phee like an old friend. They’d called this place Pabu, a haven for refugees. Hunter’s eyes had met yours then. You’d seen the same hope flickering in your chest ignite in his eyes. 

“That’s the Archium,” Phee explains, drawing your attention. She sweeps her arms out in a grand gesture. “It holds artifacts of cultural significance to many of Pabu’s residents.” 

You blink. “So all your treasure hunting—”

“—has been for Pabu,” she finishes your sentence with a coy smile. “These people took me in when I needed it, so I help them in the only way I know how.” 

“Phee, that’s...amazing,” you say. You’d truly never realized she did what she did with real purpose; and to be fair, you’d never even thought to ask. “Can we see the inside?”

“I would like that, as well,” Tech interjects, one finger raised. “I am most intrigued to study the artifacts you have gathered here.” 

Phee pats Tech’s shoulder. “All in due time, Brown Eyes. First, dinner.”

“Aw-yeah-ha-ha!” Wrecker cheers. “I’m starving!”

“When are you not?” Tech says. He follows behind Phee, peering around at the courtyard’s architecture. 

Wrecker shrugs off the half-hearted insult. “C’mon, Tech. Real food. Even you can’t say you’re not excited about that.” 

Tuning out their banter, you find Hunter already gazing at you, care and patience etched across his face. Your breath catches for a moment. He looks resplendent in the tropical afternoon sun, his tanned skin glowing with life, natural highlights shining in his curls.

“Nav, Hunter, come on!” Omega calls, already halfway across the courtyard. 

You chuckle. “Coming, kid!” To Hunter, you say, “Shall we?” 

He gestures for you to go first. “By all means, cyare.” 

You have to suppress the giddy grin that threatens to break over your face. He falls into step beside you, and the pair of you follow the rest as Phee, Shep, and Lyana lead the way to the Hazard family estate. Twice your hands brush, knuckles kissing, and sparks zing up your arm at the contact. Each time you glance up at Hunter. He doesn’t acknowledge your questioning look—until it happens again, and you catch the tiniest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking your head, you loop your pinky finger with his for just a moment. In that moment, you squeeze, trying to convey everything you still want to say to him: you want to know all there is to know about him, but mostly, you just want to tell him ‘thank you.’ 

He seems to understand what you’re attempting to communicate when he squeezes back. 

Then the moment passes and you let your hand drop back to your side.

Shep Hazard’s words float to you on the humid air. “...oldest part of the island. As we’ve grown over the years, we’ve expanded below the wall into Lower Pabu.”

Letting your eyes wander, you drink in everything the island has to offer. Trees bursting with ripe fruit, children scampering up and down streets playing tag, cozy wooden homes lit cheerfully from within; and farther out, the vast ocean, waves coruscating in the sunlight: this whole place seems like a dream. A paradise. Too good to be true. But stars, how you want it to be real.

Your mouth moves before you realize you’re speaking, externalizing your train of thought. “You mentioned that the villagers here are refugees.”

Shep turns and gives you a warm smile. “Many, yes.” He stops, gesturing to the neat rows of homes that cling to the mountainside. “Pabu has been a safe haven for those forced to flee their homes during the war.” 

“And you’re not worried the Empire will show up?” Hunter asks. 

“Why would they?” Shep chuckles, not unkindly, but you recognize the humor he finds in the question. “We’re a remote island with limited resources. But if they do, we’ll manage.”

You all lapse back into silence for the rest of the walk. Though it isn’t far, you encounter many smiling faces, each of them open and welcoming. These people know what it’s like to lose your home, to need the safe presence of community. In the weathered, sun-kissed lines of one elderly woman, you find yourself reminiscing on the woman who ran the orphanage and practically raised you. In the toothy, crooked smile of a young couple who waves to Shep and Phee, you find Arien and her family. And in Lyana’s excited giggles as she and Omega chase each other up the street, you find your tiny spark of hope steadily growing into a cautious flame. 

With a broad smile, Shep pushes open a wooden gate and ushers you all into an outdoor patio, screened above with flowering vines. “I’ll be back in just a moment with food.”

Wrecker excitedly seats himself at the rough-hewn table in the center of the patio, his eyes gleaming. Tech seats himself across from his brother, nose buried in his datapad. You catch a glimpse of his screen—he furiously types notes about the vegetation and wildlife, small green monkey-like critters who chatter at you from the patio wall. With a smirk, you settle in the chair to Tech’s left. Phee takes the one to his right. Hunter lowers himself into a seat across from you. The two girls continue chasing one another, and it makes your heart soar to see Omega laughing so freely, getting to interact with a kid her own age.

“She seems to like it here,” Shep says as he returns, arms laden with platters of fresh fruit, vegetables, and fish, along with a clay jug. “You know, a little stability might do you all some good.” 

Only a well-placed kick under the table keeps Wrecker from grabbing an entire tray for himself. He shoots you an abashed grin, and waits for everyone else to grab their food before taking what’s left. And what is left is more food than you and the squad have probably seen in one place in a long, long time. Even Tech, who eats only the bare minimum, helps himself to seconds. The jug, you quickly learn, contains a berry-based alcohol sweeter than meiloorun; both you and Hunter down multiple cups. 

“Dad, can we go down to the docks?” Lyana asks as soon as her plate is cleared. 

Shep waves his hand with a glance at Hunter. There’s a slight flush high on Hunter’s cheeks, likely a combination of the drink and the setting sun, and he smiles in adoration at Omega’s pleading eyes. 

“Be safe,” he says. 

Cheering, Omega and Lyana bolt back out the wooden gate and disappear from view. Their giggles take longer to fade, but once they do, you find yourself studying Hunter once again. He looks...relaxed. Like island life has already sunk its hooks into him and drained all of his worries into the boundless ocean. You want to join him in his state of calm, but a lone worm of doubt remains, wriggling and insistent, in the pit of your stomach.

“So,” you begin, “stability.”

Shep turns his attention to you. Deep brown eyes meet yours steadily. “People only come to Pabu seeking a new life. A new beginning. As I said, we have limited resources; there is no real reason for the Empire to bother us here.”

“You haven’t met the Empire,” you say with a wry smile. “I want to believe you, I really do.” 

“What’s holding you back?” Shep asks, his lilting voice soothing and grounding. 

You hesitate. Shooting a miniscule glance to the others, you find Tech with his ear tilted towards you though his eyes remain fixated on his datapad; Wrecker picking at his teeth with a toothpick; and Hunter watching your conversation like a ball match. This is the opportunity you’ve been looking for, you know, the one you’ve been longing for without ever realizing what the ache in your chest meant. If you stay here, you have a higher chance of living the quiet, comfortable life that you and the squad deserve. The squad can stop being a ‘squad’ and start just being a family. 

Sighing, you shrug, deflating. “Old habits.” 

“I understand.” Shep rises from his seat. “You should tour the island. Perhaps that will put your worries at ease. Speak to the villagers, hear their stories. If you still have doubts, we can talk.” 

Rolling the idea over in your mind for a long moment, you eventually nod. “Thank you.” Rising, you look down at yourself, but decide to leave the armor on. Never know if you’ll need the protection. Old habits truly do die hard.

“I’ll go with you,” Hunter says, standing as well. “Shep, thank you for hosting us. Everything was—” 

“Amazing!” Wrecker interrupts. “I’m full! I’m never full.” 

“I will note the date and time to commemorate such a momentous occasion,” Tech remarks. 

“You...what?” Wrecker says. 

Shaking your head in amusement, you step away from the table, Hunter a step behind you. You have no idea where to start, but the road from Shep’s home leads in one direction only, so you have no choice but to follow it as it winds down the slope. Tropical birds swoop overhead. Small green-gray primates chitter and scurry underfoot, freezing for a moment to stare with wide, blank eyes before darting off into the underbrush. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the first homes. Despite having just eaten, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters at the scents of spiced food, fresh-baked bread, and sweet desserts that waft to you.

“Thank you,” Hunter says as you pass by another row of houses. 

You glance at him with a curious quirk of your brow. “For what?” 

“What you said back there.” He gives a tight-lipped smile. “I want this to be real, too. But I have to consider every angle of the situation.” 

Nodding, you let his words set in. Finding you have none to return, at least none that feel adequate, you simply reach your hand out. You lace your fingers through his, gloves sliding against gloves, but you can feel his warmth nonetheless. Some of the anxious knot in your chest unwind at the feeling.

Soft yellow porch lights begin to flicker on as the sun continues its inexorable descent to the horizon. The sky above you gently shifts hues, dazzling orange becoming painted purple becoming star-studded indigo. Walking hand-in-hand with Hunter down the quaint, even streets, you can almost imagine your life here, together, as a family. 

A conversation from a nearby home becomes louder for a moment as the front door swings open. Curious, you turn to look, and find a small boy standing on the stoop. Dark hair cut close to his skin, his clothes are a little bit too big on his frame. He gives you both a wide smile and a wave before bounding off the stoop toward you. 

“Hi!” he says. Even in the low light, you can see the gaps in his gums where his baby teeth have begun to fall out. “You’re the new people!”

Chuckling, you lower yourself to one knee to get on his level. “That’s right. How’d you know?” 

He points back toward the top of the island. “New people always bring new ships.” 

“That makes sense,” you say. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Min.” He beams, chest puffing out. “I’m the oldest!” 

“Were you born here, Min?” you ask. 

Shaking his head, he says, “No, but Ma brought me here when I was still a baby. She says I’m prac’ly from Pabu, which she likes because she didn’t like our old home.” He looks between you and Hunter, and his eyes widen. “Whoa! Is that a tattoo?” 

Hunter chuckles and mirrors your pose. Min studies Hunter’s face with wide-eyed rapture, his jaw hanging open. 

“That’s so cool,” he says, awe filling his voice. 

“You should see the rest,” you say. 

Min’s round eyes dart between both of you before he turns and sprints back towards his house. “Ma! Ma, guess what!” He yanks the front door open and disappears inside. 

You find Hunter already staring at you when you glance at him. The look on his face is peculiar, pensive and hopeful and some other emotion you can’t identify in the low light. “What?” 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and stands, then holds his hand out to help you up. “Just...thinking.”

You hum. “Well, whenever you want to share those thoughts, I’m here.”

Twining your hands together again, Hunter tugs you along, moving farther and farther down the mountainside. Every few switchbacks, you pause to talk to someone: an old man who only recently relocated here with his adult daughter, who has seen the Empire up close and personal and says he’s never felt safer in his life than here on Pabu; a middle-aged woman and her wife, who have been here since the dawn of the Clone Wars, and who express some anxiety over the Empire but who firmly believe that Pabu is protected by its seclusion; and half a dozen more who all express similar sentiments. 

By the time that you and Hunter reach the beach, the sun has taken all her light with her, leaving the island blanketed in full night. Stars twinkle in the dark sky. Waves crash against the shore, rhythmic and calming, the world’s heartbeat. You feel no need to rush. Even if taking your time feels foreign, you remind yourself there is no mission to complete, there is no mission to begin, there is just you and Hunter and the waves.

“So,” he says. 

“So,” you echo. 

His hooked nose is in sharp profile against the lights dotted across the island’s flanks when you glance at him. Broad shoulders and narrow waist, strong arms that just a few hours ago were holding you close in the hold of your ship. Your body warms at the memory.

With a soft chuckle, Hunter slows to a stop, forcing you to do the same. Lifting his free hand, he brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. You can’t resist the impulse to nuzzle into his touch, eyes sliding shut, a contented sigh soughing from your lungs.

“I think we should stay,” he says, voice barely loud enough to hear over the crashing waves.

You nod, eyes still shut. “I agree. Everyone here... They seem convinced they’re safe. Every single one of them.”

“They’re either brainwashed or being genuine,” he muses. 

You snort out a laugh. “If that’s brainwashing, how do I sign up?” 

His fingers catch at the back of your neck, and you don’t have time to react before his lips are on yours. Sighing, you wrap your free arm around his broad shoulders. The noise of the beach fades as you embrace one another, mouths moving in sync, lips molding to one another like you were made for this. Your heart beats against your sternum, hard and demanding to be acknowledged.

“Are you okay?” he mumbles against your lips. 

“Stars, yes,” you say. “Are you?” 

Humming, he presses you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. “Your heart. S’loud.” 

Face flushing with embarrassment, you break away from him to gaze up into his darkened eyes. Forcing yourself to keep an even tone, you ask, “Is it a distraction?”

He blinks at you in confusion. “No.” 

“Oh.” 

“Was I supposed to say yes?” he asks. 

You laugh lightly, relaxing. “No, sorry. I just—your senses. Do I ever overwhelm you?” 

“All the time,” comes his immediate response. But the way he says it, like he’s grateful for your presence, for the way that you must flood his system and torture him, gives you pause. Your own confusion must show on your face because he continues, “You’re my safety net. Your scent, your heartbeat, your body’s electromagnetic impulses, all of it is...” He huffs a laugh. “I can’t get enough of you, cyare.” 

Face warming for an entirely different reason, you do your best to ignore the way your core flutters with excitement at his admission. “So it’s okay for me to...I don’t know, sleep in your bunk without permission?” 

He nods.

“And if I wanted to maybe wear your shirt and give it back, would that be acceptable?” 

Jaw working, he nods again. 

You press your luck and decide to ask one more. “And if I wanted to know how to make sure you can smell, feel, sense me for hours, what would you say?”

He gasps sharply through his nose, eyes studying your face intently. He seems to find whatever he’s looking for. Using his hand still around your neck, he tilts your head to the side, lowering his head to skim the tip of his nose up your sensitive skin. You feel the cool inhale of breath as a shiver dances up your spine. Your own breath caught in your throat, all you can do is stand there, trembling in his embrace, as he draws in your scent. You nearly whimper at the press of rough lips to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the bite of his fingers as they tighten on your body, the low growl that vibrates from his chest.

And then he pulls back, breathing heavily. “Does that answer your question?” 

Blinking, you can only nod. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes out, coherent thought having fled your capabilities. 

Hunter chuckles and flashes a smug smirk. You want to be mad at the expression, but given that your knees are still shaky and that your brain is doing a hard reset, you can’t find it in you to hold it against him.

Tucking you against his side, your armor clatters together as he gently guides you back along the beach the way you came. The two of you move slowly; you can only imagine that he’s as reluctant for this private, stolen moment to end as you are. 

So you dig in your heels, sinking into the damp sand. “We don’t have to go back yet.” 

He looks down at you with a half smile. “The others—”

“—can comm us if anything comes up,” you finish for him. “C’mon. Sit with me. Talk with me.”

He watches in quiet amusement as you extricate yourself from his strong arms and plop down into the sand. Stretching your legs out, you pat the ground next to you, giving him your best pleading eyes.

“Sir, yes, sir,” he teases, lowering himself next to you, legs crossed at the ankle. “What do you wanna talk about?” 

You beam at him, mind flashing to the holoscans back on your ship. “Everything. Anything. If we’re staying here, I want to get to know you better, not the sergeant.” 

The look he gives you is so openly grateful that it steals your breath away.

Taglist: @the-hexfiles @fjordg @idoubleswearimawriter @thorsterstrudle @skellymom @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @moonlightwarriorqueen @blueink-bluesoul @littlemissmanga @idontgetanysleep if I missed you I'm so sorry, I'll be working on a taglist form so that I can properly tag folks lol

[twst-lovecraft]

Waah! I just loves you little things post! May i request something similar but with Azul, Rook and one from your choosing? ty ty

twst character x reader || fluff || romantic relationship (at crushing state) [🌻]

TW: mention of childhood trauma because of bullying, lack of self-worth (Azul); OOC  

Little things they do: {part 1} {part 2} 

Summary: {part 2} - Little things that they do when they're crushing on you, although they do not notice their change in behaviour.

Characters(s): Azul Ashengrotto, Floyd Leech, Rook Hunt

Au note: Thank you anon for liking my humble headcanons 💖 And for the random character I choose Floyd because the spinning wheel online said so - Last but not least, thank you my dear friend, Yiini (they do not have a tumblr), for helping me with headcanoning Floyd in this request! 

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul would also be in the denial category because of his cautiousness and self-doubts despite he knows the existence of his more vulnerable sides. What he has learned throughout his childhood is that you should suppress your emotion and put on a facade so that you seem invulnerable to the public eyes. The same things when he started to notice his feelings beginning to blossom. He started to think of the worse scenario: you will reject him in the first place and he would have no chance at all to win your heart and favour.

The first sign that Azul is holding feelings for you is that he would become more distant from you than usual. His facade would be easier to spot as when Azul must have a conversation with you, he would put on his fake business smile and attitude which is weird if you had known him before (rather you had been one of his childhood friends or you had known him ever since your first year in Night Raven Collage).

Azul might need a little push to fully court you properly or a reason for him to live in the moment without caring about the consequences. You might catch him "accidentally" walking alongside you to classes when Azul had entirely accepted that with romance; he needs to try before assuming anything.

Azul would also be one of the boys who really hard to catch him slipping up something important, especially his more vulnerable sides and his little soft spots for you. This usually happens off-scene when he's alone because he always tries to be presentable to you whenever you two are sitting in the same room. Sometimes when Azul's in his office and VIP room, he may wander his thought to you or reminds him of one of your hobbies when going through some paperwork of Mostro Lounge. When he's going through the suggestion of the seasonal menu of the Mostro Lounge, maybe it was spring and you perhaps like strawberry and a type of strawberry flavour desert on the new menu might remind him of you.

After some time, he would appear more vulnerable in front of you and your chances of catching him off guard are more regular than before. Azul would easily be touched by your kindness to everyone and him despite of his sketchy reputation.

If you two could schedule some alone time with each other (which would definitely make Azul feel over the moon), Azul would drink up every drop of your affection and care and you might hear him ramble about how tired he's. He would have the trust to ramble to you freely without a care that you would judge him for it. Because he knows that you're not that kind of person which is also the reason why he had fallen for you in the first place.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd would be confused for a while when he started to liking you because he seems like a person who did not have any experience with land dwellers’ romance nor had read about it in the first place. At first, Floyd might think that he had a heart attack or nearly dying because all of the air has been suck out of his lungs whenever he’s standing beside you. You bet that Floyd is extremely baffle with this situation that he’s facing. He would also be less focus during his shift at Mostro Lounge which makes Azul very frustrated. 

Sometimes after, when Floyd finally understand the feelings inside of his chest is actually called “love” and he’s being introduce to the topic of romance and how the human body would react whenever they’re near someone they’re attracted to. He would also immediately became more clinger to you despite of his mood. 

If he has a sour mood, Floyd would basically talk your ear off and became so whiny like a child who had lost one of his favourite toy and expected you to coax him with love and care.  

Like Azul, Floyds loves to rambling every things that he feels at the moment when he sees you. Another thing is that Floyd actually do not needs to hide away his crush for you. He would express that openly for everyone to see, because of that, no one would even dare to mess with you ever and anon. Floyd would also has the urge to hug and squeeze you with love when ever he cross path with you in the hallway. 

Much like Azul himself, Floyd would very much being reminds of you through simple objects in his everyday life. Unlike Azul though, Floyd would immediately show the thing reminds him of you in a heart beat like a child who had discover something interesting on their own and waiting for you to praise them. If he saw an interesting rock on the road then he would simply bring it to you and said this rock is special because it’s reminds him of you. 

As you can guess, Floyd is a big tease himself and even before he has notice his feeling for you, Floyd has been teasing you from the start, trying to get a reaction out of you. Even drag you further into his rendezvous, outburst of emotion to do something all of a sudden. He might wanted to skip Trein’s period so he just pick you up drag you by himself to a place where he could show you the interesting things that he had just found and keep you for himself. 

Rook Hunt:

Rook is also a tough nut to crack. Despite Rook claims himself as Le chasseur d’amour, he might take a while to started notice his feelings for you is romantic because Rook simply spend all of his time to admire beauty and sang his heart out to praising the concept of “Love”. So for him to notice that his action towards you act out of that concept it’s gonna be a whole journey. 

With Rook, the synopsis of slip up does not exists in the first place because he has always openly express his honest feeling about everything that’s surrounding him but before Rook could realize his own feelings, most of his action was act out on unconsciousness psyche while chasing after the said concept of love, romance and beauty in life. 

As Rook go on his outdoors activities to search and discover undercover beauty and charms of life, he always made a mental note, even speak out his thoughts that nothing could compare to your ethereal charms and beauty. That’s when reality hit him, the Hunter has finally met and understand the feeling of love and it was right under his nose yet he can not recognize it. 

Even before Rook realize his feelings, you can guess that he has his eyes on you for while before that. At first, it might not because you had shot a Cupid’s Arrow straight through his heart but rather you had caught his interest like a few beastmen, mermen or faes in the school ground. 

But after Rook known about his undying love for you, the purpose of his observation tendency started to changes. In the past, he may used to observe you from afar to gush or singing praises about how adorable you are (even if you’re like taller than 6 feet), at the present, he think you’re adorable still but he prefer to just watch and admire you from afar. After all, Rook is kinda a hopeless romantic himself. 

[mitsuki-komori]

Hello Mitsuki, it's been awhile but can I request what if Leo was kidnapped and had amnesia was found by the hage church, where he would be taken care of there and when he was going to become a magic knight at the exam he was spotted by Fuegoleon, when he was asked who was he, he didn't know other than he's name is Leo. What would be his family reaction? and because he is technically foster brothers with Yuno and Asta, what if he went to black bull or golden dawn to stick close to him because of his trauma while being kidnapped?

The day Leopold Vermillon went missing was an intense day, a heartbreaking day. Fuegoleon was 20, Mereoleona was 22 when their 6 years old brother went missing

They noticed he was gone pretty quickly and immediately became worried. They searched everywhere they possibly could to find their brother… When they never found him, the whole family was heartbroken and worried to death… He was thought to be dead. However, Mereoloena went out into the world to search for Leo. Fuegoleon as a Captain does his duties, but he’s also been trying to find Leo by gathering intel and such

Leo had been wandering around outside the Vermillion estate when he was taken by these men. He was scared when they tied him up, the men planned on making money off of him…

Luckily for Leo, the ropes were loose enough that he got out of them and ran away, but he didn’t know where he was. All he wanted was to see his older siblings. As he ran through the forest, he tripped and fell… hitting his head and losing his memory

Sister Lily had been gathering herbs when she saw a poor boy injured in the woods. After Leo was taken to the church, he recovered but without his memory. So the church took him in and raised him along side Asta and Yuno

Asta and Yuno were close to Leo. The three of them like brothers. All of them dream of becoming the strongest. Asta couldn’t help but feel less of himself when seeing how much mana Leo and Yuno had along with their talents. Leo reassures Asta he can do it. Leopold even waited an extra year for Asta and Yuno to be old enough for the exams.

After they got to the enterence exams, Leo stayed by Asta’s side throughout the stages. The captains came out, when Leo saw Fuegoleon, he couldn’t help but think he looked a little familiar… Probably nothing though…

When Fuegoleon came out to see possible new squadmembers, his eyes landed on Leo immediately. It couldn’t be, could it? He was frozen and kept staring at him… It had to be… it looks just like him, and the mana feels the same too… Fuegoleon had to restrain himself from doing anything out of line like breaking down or something else… His brother, was it really his brother after so long…?

There were still a few minutes before the exams started before someone in a magic knight robe walked up to Leo and told him to go with. Asta and Leo were confused, but Asta nodded and Leo went with. Asta noticed the Crimson Lion Captain was now missing from his spot… And the exam gets delayed.

Leo is led to a more private area when he sees the Captain of the Crimson Lions… Even more familiar than he thought… He was even more confused than before, but he was intrigued.

“Leo…? Is it really you?” Fuegoleon muttered out in disbelief. Leopold raised and eyebrow.

“What? How do you know my name…?” Leo questioned Fuegoleon, Fuegoleon couldn’t help but hug Leo… “Um… okay?”

“I can’t believe it! It’s really you, I thought you were dead…!” Fuegoleon suppressed his tears. He’s never been so relieved in his life.

Leopold took a step back. “I’m sorry… who are you?”

Fuegoleon felt his heart drop and his expression turned into a sad one. “Oh… I see…”

“Do you know me…? I feel like I know you…”

Suddenly a man with silver hair and a weird braid in front of his face walked onto the scene. “Your name is Leopold Vermillion. You’re his younger brother.”

Leopold’s eyes widened as he looked back up at Fuegoleon in disbelief. “What? Me? But aren’t you royalty…? Wait… huh?!”

However when Leo thought about it, it made sense… They did look very similar, along with the fact he definitely had the mana of a royal… and there’s the thing with his amnesia…

“How long have… uh… I been gone?” The truth defining moment…

“You’ve been gone for 10 years…”

The brothers were silent for a moment. “Wait, are you really…? I don’t know…” Leopold pauses for a moment. “I don’t remember anything from before I was 6, so I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or not…”

“Whether you believe it or not is up to you, the truth of the matter if that you’ve been gone for 10 years and you’re a Vermillion.” Nozel states. Leo thinks to himself for a moment… His family is the church… but what if they this man was the answer he’s been wanting for the last 10 years?

“Leo, what’s taking you so long?” Asta walked around the corridor. 

Leopold walked over to Asta. “I was just talking to these guys…”

Asta sees the Captain and gasped. “You’re talking to captains?! Are you so good that you don’t even have to take the exam!?” Leo shook his head.

“No, don’t worry about it… Let’s just get back outside.”

Asta nods happily. “Alright, let’s go! Just warning you, we might get attacked by birds!”

“Not with me there.” Leopold laughs. The two boys make their way back, Leo glanced back at Fuegoleon for a moment before continuing on.

As the exam went on, Leo proved himself to be more and more impressive throughout the whole thing.

Yuno was picked by all the captains which was shocking to everyone, Leo was proud. When it came to Asta, he was extremely nervous for him. Luckily, Asta’s loudmouth was loud enough to convince a captain to take him in…

When it was Leo’s turn, his heart beat loudly in his chest… 

“7 hands?! No way! That’s so many too!” He heard people murmuring in the crowd behind him. Almost every hand was raised except for the Golden Dawn and the Silver Eagles…

He gazes at all the Captains and notices the man beside the Coral Peacocks captain seemed to be staring at him intensely… It kind of creeped Leo out…

Black Bulls… that’s the squad Asta is in now… Suppose the Golden Dawn wasn’t an option. He should join Asta, right? But… Fuegoleon seemed really happy to see him again… and if they truly are brothers, Leo would want to know him… and perhaps he could learn more about his past. He wouldn’t know anyone, but if he joined Asta at least he’d be with him? Leopold is closed his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll join the Crimson Lions squad.”

Asta didn’t mind Leo joined a different squad, he was happy for him. Fuegoleon on the other hand was shocked… He thought for sure Leo wouldn’t want anything to do with him… That he thought it was a lie… but this meant he believed it at least a little, right?

Fuegoleon’s wide eyes went back to normal and he smiled, his heart rate calming down.

Leo had gone with Fuegoleon, Fuegoleon talked a lot, it was a little overwhelming. However, Leo was already used to Asta, so he could handle this

Fuegoleon takes Leopold to the Vermillion and shows him a lot of things.

Fuegoleon tells him about the things Leo did when he was a kid, and how things work… Leo was even shown pictures which was undeniable proof…

It was such a shame he didn’t remember…

Leo met what could only be his parents and they hugged him a lot… they were crying a lot, it made Leo sad to see… So much wasted time.

The whole estate rumbled suddenly, there was loud footsteps approaching along with an incredible amount of mana

The door flew opened which revealed a woman, she seemed familiar…

“This is Mereoleona… she’s our older sister…”

Leo was immediately overwhelmed with her yelling and constant questions, she kept shaking Leo’s shoulders…

She was a lot more to deal with than Asta…

Leopold could see the relief written all over her face though…

Leopold eventually met his supposed cousins… Mimosa and Kirsch… Kirsch was the man that was staring at him, it made sense now…

They family talked to Leo for what seemed like ever…

When Leo saw his room, he felt nostalgic… Maybe this truly was his room…

After being shown to the Crimson Lion headquarters, Leo sleeps for the night

In the morning, Fuegoleon brought him to Marx to see if his memory magic could bring his memories back

After a while, Marx succeeded and is able to uncover those memories…

The memories were fresh in Leo’s mind… everything… Tears roll down his face as he glances at his older brother. A bittersweet feeling swells in his chest. He was glad to be back with his family… 

They were his home… and so was everyone back at Hage.

His two families.

[oneshotnewbie]

Can you do a oneshot where B!D has emetophobia (fear of vomiting). But one day she gets sick with food poisoning, and Alex finds her throwing up in her apartment and has to comfort her, and help her control her breathing, and afterwards B!D breaks down crying in Alex's arms. And Al says she wont leave her side.

The first unusual thing you noticed was the lack of hunger in the forenoon. Although you didn´t find it reprehensible; you were always a person who didn´t eat anything in the morning, but felt hungry.

But today there was nothing at all; no rumbling of your stomach nor the craving for something. Everything was missing.

So when you tried to eat your dinner, you couldn´t swallow anything. Your body refused to accept the food, and after only a few small successful but unsatisfying forks, you involuntarily pushed the plate away from you and stared at it disgustedly.

Wordlessly, you dragged a hand through your hair and stood up to pack the food in the kitchen from the plate into a plastic container so that you could warm it up again before wandering off into the bathroom.

From there, the steady growth of nausea began, entangling you in thought and fears of vomiting. You were terrified of throwing up, thanks to a trauma from your childhood and slowly, your breathing became shallow as every single move was cautious and light footed.

You sighed miserably as your body came to rest in front of the toilet, sitting on the cold tile floor while your back and head were resting against the small dresser. Your nausea started rising faster- from your stomach to your chest and you grew increasingly distressed.

As a precaution, you called Alex and asked her to keep the phone near her in case you needed her. But the redhead noticed the sheer panic in your voice and didn´t play around for long; she promptly made her way to your shared apartment.

When she came rushing in through the door, the apartment felt silent and Alex eyes scanned the open room. The room, lit by moonlight streaming through the open balcony, was empty and without sign of you.

Then she heard the sobbing.

It was coming from the bedroom. And all of the sudden, Alex was overcome by worry. Steps uneasy, she finally arrived at the bathroom, the door creaking slightly as it opened. Tentatively, she poked her head inside before her gaze landed on your form crouched and hanging in front of the toilet bowl.

"Alex.." you cried out, gagging mid sentence and swallowing thickly. "My stomach hurts.." you muttered, tensing up as a nasty wave of nausea worked it´s way up. Your stomach dropped, saliva forming in your mouth. You could feel yourself shaking uncontrollably, your thoughts racing.

"I know it´s hard but you need to let it out. It will make you feel better."

"I can´t do this." you shook your head, closing your eyes as tears began to spill down your face, dripping onto his hand. Your head was hanging over the toilet bowl, knowing that it was ready to come out.

But you weren´t ready at all.

The shaking and crying of you made Alex´s hurt burst and she knelt down behind you. "Yes you can, honey." You swallowed, suppressing a gag and staying completely still. The taste of vomit violated your system but it was okay for you, you hadn´t thrown up yet.

Your breathing became heavy.

"I´m gonna.." With another violent gag, your entire shaking form lurched forward. Vomit splattered into the toilet and you couldn´t help but grimace at the sound of it, coughing and gagging as your stomach finally brought up the product of your suffering.

As you were coughing up mouthfuls of sour tasting vomit, you finally understood why this was happening to you- you suspected it was the fried rice you had yesterday evening from a marketplace that was full of strangely new food you had to try.

You tensed up when you felt Alex beginning to rub your back gently as an act of showing you that she was here for you. "That´s it, well done." she instructed soothingly and felt your body settle under her hand. "I´m so proud of you!"

"Alex.." you gasped, your throat raspy and voice cracking from the acid. "It tastes so horrible."

You fell backwards against her chest and her hands wrapped around your shaking body. Burying your head in her shoulder, you cried bitterly over this experience and the repeated trauma. She, on the other hand, pulled you even tighter, gave you a kiss on the temple and rocked you back and forth in an attempt to calm you down.

"You made it. It's over now, do you hear? I'm there, I'm with you."

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 13: call

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: you can't believe how much fun I have to write König (expect more for him in the future) After I created a whole past story line for Skadi I really think about writing like a 'prequelle' when we're finished the series, what do you think?

CW/TW: mentions of guilt, injuries, jealousy, hurt, comfort, fluff, trauma, unrequited love, smoking, healing,

wordcount: 3.2k

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Another week passed and a soothing mood hung over the 141. At least over the three men spending their time at one of KorTac's bases. Price declared the waiting of your convalescence as an official break. Him and Laswell had enough to sort out anyways, he wanted his team to be rested for the things that lay ahead for them. Johnny could convince Simon to at least hit the gym with them regularly now. Spending a few hours away from the sterile hospital room. Even if they we're on a break, it didn’t mean they had to go slack around. So, every morning they would pay the gym a visit, pushing their limits, before heading to breakfast and after a quick shower accompanying you. Today shouldn't be any different but it was. As soon as they walked through the door to your room, the heart from Simon stopped for a moment.

Your bed was empty. "That's weird.", Kyle said while taking his usual seat. " 's all ya gonna say?", Simon snarled while moving closer to the bed. He couldn't suppress the fear that something happened to you. Especially when he wasn’t here, when he could have prevented it. He immediately started to observe the whole room. The bed wasn't stained with blood, so at least your wounds were still closed. As his gaze wandered to your bedside table, he saw that the wooden box was gone as well.

Their heads snapped into the direction of the door as the nurse walked through it. A silvern plate with bandages and cotton on it. She looked confused at the men. "Where is she?", she said while placing the plate on the bedside table. "Yer dinnea ken?!" Johnny looked at her shocked. The women exhaled deeply. "Jesus Christ." - "How can you not know where your patient is?" Simon snapped, a small panic forming in his chest. That's when the door opened another time, and you walked through it. Still weak knees but you stood there. He couldn’t handle all the feelings boiling up in his chest as he saw you back on your feet.

"What the hell, Sergeant, what do you think you were doing?!", the nurse snapped at you. Your arms immediately flew in the air in defense, a water bottle in one hand and the common blue box in the other. The sleeves of the way too huge jacket slid down your arms. "Having a smoke.", your voice was soft, and calm. Still, you didn't dare to move. "Why did you leave the bed?!", she walked closer to you. "Ma’am, you'd kill me if I'd smoke in bed.", you smiled at her, still a bit weak but the cocky tone in your voice was undeniable. "You're unbelievable.", she sighed. You put your arms down and smiled at the boys. "Sorry." Kyle and Johnny couldn’t suppress a wholehearted and relieved laugh at the scenery in front of them and even Simon smiled behind his mask. Every ounce of stress left his body.

"Ya still need rest, Skadi. Were ya even allowed to leave the infirmary? Especially smoking?", Simon scolded you after climbing back in the bed again and you sighed. "How long are yer even awake? Dinnea think yer would run around already." - "Greetings from Captain Price. Why do you even have friends in KorTac?" The boys kept talking nonstop and you could only lean back and enjoy it. You missed them, this chaos, during the long dark silence. You were happy to be back with them. Even when you're still felt like shit, you were relaxed. To feel this familiar warmth again. You didn't dare to label it, because you were too scared that someone could take it away from you, but deep down you already knew.

It took you two more days till the nurse, you found out her name was Helen, let you leave the infirmary for small walks and even let you have lunch with your team in the canteen together. You still had to fight the immense pain and weakness, but it got better every day. The boys made sure that you didn't need to carry everything. You weren't even allowed lifting the plate with food on your own. One of them always staying close to you, like a lost puppy trailing behind and most of the time it was the huge scary dog, Simon Riley. "Guys, please, I'm not fine China. I won't break. What will you do when we're back on the field?", you exhaled while sitting down a slight smile on your lips. They couldn't prevent you from getting hurt again, but they would try, and Simon was overly eager to do so. It was his personal mission to protect you. He would never risk to lose you again.

He enjoyed being with you again. Especially the evening smokes was something he didn't realized he missed that much. They grew to become one if his most cheered routine during the last months. That's how you found each other on a terrace, next to each other in the comforting silence again. Nobody dared to break it, but you had to. You could only guess the internal fight he had. "Simon...", he completely tensed as you approached him with his name, and at the same time he felt his knees go weak. You didn't call him often by his first name, it was rather rare, but he hoped it would become more of a daily basis thing. Especially in those calms before a storm. "I don't remember much... but Johnny told me what happened.", you paused while exhaling a cloud of smoke. He was already finished with his fag. Mask perfectly back in place. You faced him with a look of endearment. "Thanks for dragging me out of there...and for everything else.", your eyes met his and he only nodded. You did want to tell him, that he shouldn't feel guilty, that it wasn't his fault, but you knew it was pointless. Million times you heard those words; empty phrases and they did nothing to ease the pain and feeling of regret in your chest. So, everything you could do, was to thank him in pure honesty, with a genuine smile.

Just as he wanted to say something, to extend his hand forward to you, he was interrupted, and an inaudible sigh left his throat. Maybe it was for the best, the way his heart raced in his chest made him feel uneasy after all. "We brought some bread, the younglings recommended it!", Kyle yelled while approaching both of you with Johnny at his side. It would be a lie to say that Simon didn't cherish those moments. All of you together, sharing some bidhs as Johnny called it, talking about everything under the sun. Hearing all of them laugh, relaxed. In those moments he forgot about the darkness this world had given him and even dared to think that he might deserve some happiness. That he might could bring himself to relax and enjoy. But his peace shouldn't be of duration. Heavy footsteps could be heard over the wooden floor.

Johnny's face slightly fell as he noticed the tall figure approaching you. "Du bist wohlauf!" [You're well], the low but all sweet voice of König reached your ear, and you turned around. A smile appeared on your face while standing up. Without a warning he threw his arms around you and pulled you in a tight bear hug. Bending down to press his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent through his mask. "Du hast mir so gefehlt." [I've missed you so much.] , he mumbled amongst your skin.

This hug was different to what Ghost had witnessed before. It was nothing compared to the quick and friendly embrace you shared with Price, or even that one time Johnny hugged you. It felt wrong to watch for him, still he couldn't avert his eyes. "I've missed ya too.", you said calm while parting a bit from him, still he kept his hands on your waist, not letting you pull away too far. "Still smoking Memphis?", he chuckled at you, and you nodded with a smile, your eyes trailing to the box on the floor before looking back up at him. "They’re kinda stuck with me." He didn't avert his eyes from yours.

His huge hands slightly squeezing your waist. You closed your eyes in response, pain piercing through your limbs, "I swear to God, if you keep squeezing my waist, I'm gonna punch you in the balls.", you hissed, and König immediately moved his hands from your waist to your shoulders. "Sorry, mein Spatzl."[German equivalent to dovie but with accent] You exhaled deeply. You missed him, of course you did. One year apart and you pushed him away like he didn't mean anything at all to you. Just like you pushed everyone away. Still, he stood in front of you, embracing you like you didn't hurt him. Treating you, like you never broke his heart. "Don't even think about it.", he squeezed your shoulder that didn't got shot. "I told you, I'm always just a call away. You simply should've called earlier, my queen." His voice could be so soft for his statue. It made you look aside, focusing into nothing as your head started to hang in guilt. He literally read your mind. Your eyes lingered on his wrist, on the bracelet he wore, it sat just over his glove. It wasn't as shiny as you held in your hands back then. Time has demanded its victims. "You still wear it...", it was clearly a fact but somehow also a question. König only chuckled, "Every day, since you gave it to me.", he reassures you. You didn't saw his face due to the mask, but you already knew the smile he wore.

It was Johnny who cleared his throat in one of the most dramatic manners you have ever heard. You turned towards him what made König draw his hands back, a bit confused. "I suppose you already met?", you looked at Johnny. "We keep meeting.", it was Ghost's harsh voice that made you blink in confusion. "How does it come you never mentioned him?", Kyle drew your attention, but your eyes were still pinned on the man next to you, who only stared on the ground in front of him. "We were teammates before parting ways.", you stated simply. König slung his arm around your shoulder again, pulling you in his side. "More than four years of kicking ass’ and taking life’s of the bad guys.", he stated proudly. "Still mad you'd rather accept Price's offer than mine.", he shrugged. "I accepted Laswell's offer." - "Noch schlimmer!" [Even worse] You rolled your eyes at him jokingly.

Ghost didn't dare to look at the scenario next to him anymore. Watching you hug made his blood boil already. His hands were balled to fists, his knuckles turning white beneath the fabric of his gloves. The only thing that kept him sane was the thought that the team could leave this place tomorrow. You did recover enough for the flight, and everything else could be taken care of back at your base. Far away from the Austrian. "Too bad you only returned to find out we're heading back tomorrow.", Ghost couldn't suppress his sarcastic tone, a smug grin behind the mask. König didn't react to Ghost, he just looked back to you, and before he could say something you only nodded. "We still have to catch up." - "I know." - "We can head to my office." - "Helen's gonna kill me when I won't be back in half an hour" - "Yeah, she can be harsh." König's tone became lower and lower with every word.

He didn't want you to leave already and you didn't know if it was good or bad, but it was weird how everything felt so familiar. Like nothing ever had changed, even after all that time. Those thoughts kept your mind busy. After Ghost insisted to guide you back to the infirmary, you lay awake in the sickbed. You didn't deserve all the kindness and affection König was so willingly giving to you. He should be mad at you, he was allowed to yell at you, just like you did at him. And still, he didn't want anything else than to spend time with you, to hold you. Something you couldn't understand.

It was quite early when Simon showed up the next morning, helping you gathering your stuff and picking you up for breakfast. Finally able to leave this room. You longed for your own four walls in back in the base and Ghost did long to be as far away as possible from the intruder. It's almost comical how time can change perspectives. Just some months ago he thought of you as such a thing like an intruder. A threat to the 141, and now? Now he saw people as threat that came too close to you and König was definitely the greatest of them all.

Johnny and Kyle already sat at a table chatting with some of KorTac's rookies they got to know. Kyle had prepared some of the usual breakfast choices of Simon and yours. Simon took the place next to Kyle and you just wanted to sit down next to Johnny as you felt a tall presence hovering over you. König appeared like out of the shadows directly behind you and placed his masked head onto your own. The rookies immediately stopped their talk, and Ghost clenched his fist around the cup in his hand. "Guten Morgen." [Good morning] his voice was still a bit raspy, his hands finding your waist again. "Good morning colonel, sir.", the rookies stated. "Since when you're colonel?", you asked still standing still in place with the weight of König's head onto yours. "Already said we do have a lot to catch up. Eat with me in my office.", he leaned a bit further onto you. Your exhaled deeply. "Please, Mäuschen."[little mouse] Just as Ghost wanted to intervene, his blood run cold. Your words totally cut him short. "Alright, darling. Let’s go." Even Kyle choked on his toast, while Johnny once more looked flabbergasted. König grabbed your plate, before anyone at the table could say something and you moved into the direction of his office. His free hand placed on your lower back, guiding you through the hall.

Did Ghost hear right? Did you just call that bastard darling? Without any joking or even mocking tone. It just sounded so natural. And how good this word sounded out of your mouth. Just aimed at the wrong person. His thoughts were running a marathon and the only thing that snapped him back were the chattering of the rookies. Whispering phrases like, 'that's her', 'didn't thought of her to be that pretty', 'but she still ghosted him'. It made Simons mind running even faster, his thoughts trembling over one another. "Yo, rookies. Shut it!", a dark voice shut them up and they straightened their posture. "Apologies, Sir!" - "Don't dig your filthy noses into the private life of our colonel. Understood?!" - "Yes, Sir!", a masked man stood in front of the table, turning his attention to the 141 men. "Your pickup will be here in four hours."

Those whole four hours were spent behind closed doors with König. His office was like a save zone; he didn't wear his mask. His scars letting you feel immensely more guilt than anyhow. You talked about it. You talked about everything, the way you locked yourself up - metaphorical and literal - not being able to burden anyone with your thoughts, how you joined the 141, the struggle of your current mission (without classified intel of course), what König did in all this time, how he became colonel and of course you talked about the two of you. Things you wanted to apologize for, things you did regret but he hushed you down.

"Are you happy?", he looked at you with his brows raised. You swallowed a thick lump you didn't remember formed in your throat. König sighed and cupped your face with his huge rough palms. Forcing you to look at him. "You deserve happiness, mein Engel. No matter where or ...", he paused for a moment, the words weighted tons on his tongue "... or with whom." You look bewildered at him; his face is relaxed more at your expression and his usual smile formed once more. A smile you knew too well. You stare into the crystal sky his eyes were.

"I see how you look at him. It's in your eyes. The way you looked at me once.", his voice grows soft, but you could sense the fractures of sorrows laying in them. "König...", a thick lump forming again in your throat. That is what you were scared of all the time. The way he could read you like an open book. The way you couldn't hide anything from him, especially something you wanted to hide even from yourself. And here you where, seated next to him so close and calling you shamelessly out. "You don't have to admit it, wirklich."[for real], he caressed your cheek with his thumb. Everything felt so familiar, it nearly hurt.

"Just promise me two things...", you can't help but feel nauseous. The way he looked at you, the way his touch felt onto your skin. You nodded only the slightest, signaling him to go on. "First of all, I want you to accept it, to embrace it and not to push it...him... away.", his voice was calm, steady, and assured. Still, you heard the pain that lies below its surface. His eyes shine at you with adoration, but you saw the pain behind it. Tears did start to prick at the corners of your eyes. He continued, "Second... and I'm begging you, let me be part of your life." You bit your bottom lip, trying to compensate your emotions, but you couldn't suppress them. Hot droplets of salty tears ran down your cheeks. His thumbs carefully stroked them away. There weren't many living people walking this earth with whom you felt save enough to show your weakness to actual cry. König was one of the very few people you could be vulnerable with. But you couldn't promise this to him. A promise is such a big deal, and you would never made one if you couldn’t be sure of keeping your word. You've learnt that the hard way. "Ich versuch’ es." [I’ll try], you said between your silent sobs. His smile grew a bit wider. He gently placed a kiss onto your forehead before leaning his against the spot, his lips just brushed. "Ich weiß. Ich weiß, my queen" [I know]

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