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punkshort · 9 months

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somewhere to run | 2. book club

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: An incident at the diner causes you to get shaken up, and Joel is there to help.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, mutual pining, PTSD type symptoms, flirting, jealousy, attempted robbery, reader gets mildly injured

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

"So you see why it's so important you keep on top of your oil changes, yeah?" Mr. Connor finished saying as you set down his plate of waffles and sausage. You nodded enthusiastically while you filled up his coffee.

"I was never really any good at car stuff," you admitted, but he shook his head.

"If you take care of it, that car'll last you five more years and save you boatloads of money," he told you, wagging his finger. "You come by my shop any time and I'll take a look at that beater you're drivin', won't rip you off, either."

You laughed as you heard the bells above the door ring and Maria greet the next customer.

"I'll hold you to it," you said with a wink before turning to put the coffee back on the burner.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar outline of a man settle into Joel's usual seat at the counter, and you felt the butterflies stir up in your stomach. You glanced up to make sure there wasn't any food getting cold in the window before pulling out your notepad and walking over. As you approached, you mentally braced yourself for the onslaught of his cologne, but as you got closer, you couldn't smell it. In fact, all you could smell was soap and maybe a faint hint of oil from his gun.

When you paused in front of him, the realization dawning on you, he glanced up from the menu with a smirk. A slow smile spread across your face when you looked him in the eye.

"Better?" was all he said, and you couldn't stop the giggle from escaping your lips.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you said, suddenly feeling bashful and looking down at your blank notepad.

"I know, but I wanted to," he said, leaning back and closing the menu. He didn't even know why he looked at it anymore, he knew it by heart already. "Thought maybe it'd make you stick around long enough for me to get to know you better."

You definitely felt your cheeks flare at that comment, and it must have been visible because Joel just grinned, clearly very pleased with himself.

"Where are you from?" he asked, determined to try to make some more progress with you today.

"Pennsylvania," you said, finally looking back up at him with a smile as you tapped your pen on the pad.

"Northerner," he said with feigned disgust. "And what brought you all the way to Texas?"

"The incredible job opportunity, isn't it obvious?" you said, and he laughed. A real laugh, one you hadn't heard before, and it did something to you. Uh oh.

"You're funny," Joel said, almost as if he were saying it to himself. You grinned and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction: away from you.

"What about you? Have you lived here your whole life?"

"Born and raised," Joel said with a nod. "Our pop used to be the town sheriff, before he passed 'bout ten years back or so."

"So, you followed in your father's footsteps?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Suppose I did," he told you, leaning forward. "But can I tell you a secret?"

You hummed and leaned forward as well, trying to bite back your smirk.

"Kinda wishin' now I was the one who bought this place instead of my brother," he said quietly and so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Still leaning in, you dropped your voice to match his and said "then who would stop those teenagers from drawing phallic images on street signs?"

He laughed again, the same deep, throaty laugh as before, and you felt your stomach clench at the sound.

"You heard that, huh?" he asked, smiling and leaning back. You shrugged.

"Lee isn't as quiet as he thinks," you told him. You wanted to say you had to learn early on to eavesdrop, that listening and anticipating danger became second nature to you, but you caught yourself.

"Howdy, brother," you heard Tommy's voice boom from somewhere behind you. You took the opportunity to sneak away and check on your other customers while they talked, but you made sure to set Joel up with coffee before heading towards the other end of the counter, his eyes trailing after you and staring a moment too long on your bare legs.

"You givin' her the business?" Tommy asked, nodding in your direction, and Joel nearly choked on his coffee. Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"She's, uh... she's a nice girl," Joel finally managed to get out after wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"He's got the hots for her," Betty whispered to Tommy as she ambled by. Joel cleared his throat loudly and gave her a stern look, but she just laughed and kept walking.

"Oh, Joel, I'm beggin' you, don't screw this up for me. She's a real good waitress, I don't wanna lose her - "

"Would you keep it down?" Joel whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure you weren't within earshot. "I ain't gonna screw anythin' up for anyone, don't worry. She's just... nice."

"'Nice'," Tommy repeated, clearly not buying it. He was about to say more, but Joel straightened up in his seat and averted his gaze, trying to wordlessly warn him you were heading over.

"Sorry to interrupt. Are you ready, Joel?" you asked him, your pen and paper in hand. He looked up at you and it was hard to fight the goofy look on his face now that you didn't regard him with such disdain.

"Yeah, sure. Let's put this guy to work, huh?" Joel said, pointing to Tommy, and you giggled. Behind you, Tommy rolled his eyes. Nice.

Joel told himself he was only allowed to think about you on his walk back to the station after lunch. You had told Betty you weren't interested in dating anybody at the moment, but he could wait. He wondered if he could change your mind, if he could make you come around to the idea of being with him, or at least give him a chance. You definitely seemed much warmer towards him today. He must have been wrong yesterday, you really must be sensitive to smells if all it took was for him to stop using that obnoxious cologne Sarah got him that he felt too guilty to throw away.

"Hey boss, how was lunch?" asked Bobby, the town's deputy and Joel's right hand man.

"Good. Anythin' goin' on here?" Joel asked, shrugging off his blazer and hanging it on the coat rack outside his office.

"Not much. I was 'bout to let Ollie outta the drunk tank. His wife was callin', askin' after him," Bobby said before rising to his feet with a groan. Although the man was ten years younger than Joel, his joints seemed to be ten years older.

Joel glanced at the time on his watch with a nod.

"Yeah, go ahead. Third time this month, though. Next time it happens, I'm keepin' him longer."

"Alrighty," Bobby said over his shoulder as he pulled the keys from his pocket and headed back towards lockup.

Joel sighed and began flipping through the papers littering his desk before giving up and leaning back in his chair to stare out the front window, watching people as they walked past. Before he could stop himself, his mind had already wandered back to thoughts of you, and it took him five whole minutes and Ollie's hungover ramblings to snap him out of it.

Maybe Sarah would want to get pizza for dinner.

It was nearly seven at night as you made your way back home from work, your feet aching and your head throbbing. At the very least, it was a cool, summer night. The breeze was enjoyable and the sun was still peeking out just enough to keep your skin pleasantly warm. All you could think about was getting home and running a bath to soak your sore muscles. It had been a long time since you held a job, let alone a job that kept you as active as this one.

Patrick didn't like the idea of you working. When he first suggested you quit your job and stay at home, you thought it was sweet. You took it to mean he wanted to provide for you so you could relax and be a homemaker, maybe even a mom one day. But after a few months, you quickly realized he just didn't want you around other people, or more specifically, other men. Without even knowing it, you trapped yourself at home without a lifeline, and it was exactly what he wanted.

Even though you were sore now, you felt good. You were taking care of yourself. Providing for yourself. And you never felt more proud.

You were juggling your keys, trying to find the right one that opened the door to the sidewalk, when you heard a familiar voice exit the pizza place.

"Well, look who it is," you heard Joel say, and you let the keys dangle at your side as you turned around with a smile.

"Evening, Joel," you replied, your eyes quickly drifting down his body. It was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes. Every other time you ran into him, he was in his work uniform, which usually consisted of some type of suit. But tonight, he was wearing dark blue jeans and a beige button up shirt with short sleeves. As he strolled over to you, balancing a pizza box in his hand, your eyes were immediately drawn to the way the muscles in his arms strained against the fabric of the shirt, making your mouth go dry.

"Tommy finally let you leave, huh?" he joked, and you had to remind yourself to laugh, your mind still too fixated on the way he looked in that shirt.

"Dad?" you heard a girl's voice call behind him, and you both turned your attention towards the voice. You remembered your brief interaction at the pharmacy and realized that she must be Sarah. Her eyes flickered from you to Joel, then back to you, clearly waiting for Joel to introduce you, but he seemed frozen in place. So, you stretched out your arm and introduced yourself with a smile, which she reciprocated.

"You look familiar," she said, tilting her head to the side the same way her dad did.

"I think I saw you at the pharmacy a couple days ago," you reminded her, and she snapped her fingers.

"That's what it is," she said, giving you another smile. "Are you working for Uncle Tommy?" she asked, looking at Joel again, who was still standing there, unmoving, watching the two of you interact. She frowned slightly at him, picking up on his strange reaction as well, before giving you her attention again.

"Yeah, at the diner. He hired me earlier this week, brand new," you told her, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Joel's silence was deafening at this point and starting to make you uncomfortable, so you held up your keys and pointed to the door.

"I won't keep you guys. It was great to meet you, Sarah," you said with a wave, but before you could turn towards the door, she stopped you.

"Why don't you join us?" she asked, shooting Joel a mischievous look as if she finally realized the reason for his behavior.

"Oh, no, that's so nice of you, but I'm just gonna jump in the bath and go to bed, it's been a long day," you replied. Joel's body stiffened next to you when you announced your plans.

Finally, he managed to clear his throat and speak.

"We'd love to have you join us, we were just gonna grab a picnic table out back," he said, and you swore his cheeks looked a little pinker than usual.

You were struggling to find another polite way to turn down their offer when he added "c'mon, why don't you lemme serve you for a change?"

Sarah smiled as she watched the two of you. She couldn't wait to tease her dad about it in the car later.

"Alright," you said slowly, lowering your keys once again. Joel's face broke out in a huge grin before leading you and Sarah down the short alley to the small courtyard behind the building, where there were a few picnic tables and string lights draped overhead.

"Are you sure I'm not intruding?" you asked again, and they both vehemently shook their heads.

"No way," Sarah said, licking the sauce off her fingers after she picked up her piece from the box. "It's nice to have another girl around for a change."

"Sarah," Joel said warningly under his breath.

"I just mean it's nice to hear about something else other than work and football," she said to him with a grin, and he rolled his eyes, choosing to sit on your side of the table instead of hers.

"So, you live above the pizza place? That seems pretty cool. Pizza whenever you want," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. You swallowed your food before responding.

"Yeah, it is pretty convenient. And they actually have good pizza," you said. "I think I'm finally getting used to the smell."

Joel's knee accidentally knock against yours under the table and you had to fight the urge to jump away, the contact startling you.

Sarah asked the same questions everyone in this small town inevitably asked you when you first met: where are you from and why are you here? The first question was easy, the second one always gave you pause. It wasn't until Sarah asked that Joel suddenly realized you never really answered him when he asked the same question earlier that day, so he stopped chewing to pay attention.

"Just looking for a change," you said with a shrug, taking another bite of pizza. Sarah considered your answer for a moment before following up.

"Have you ever been here before?"

"Nope."

"So you just got in your car and ... drove?"

"Kind of," you said with a nervous laugh. Joel frowned slightly.

"That's so cool," Sarah said, a smile stretching across her face. "Dad, doesn't that sound so cool?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod, finally joining the conversation. "Do you got family down south or anythin'?"

"Uh, no," you said, shaking your head. "Just always heard it was nice down here so I thought I would see for myself."

"You think you're here for good, then?" he asked, his voice a little more hopeful than he wanted to come across.

"That's the plan," you said to him with a smile.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Sarah asked out of the blue, and your eyes darted back to her in surprise.

"No," you replied slowly, heat creeping up your neck and guilt dancing in the back of your head while Joel hid his grin behind his pizza. "Do you?" you deflected, raising your eyebrows at her with a smirk, and she giggled, shaking her head.

"You better not," Joel said, and the two of you laughed.

Over the rest of the hour, you listened to Joel and Sarah crack jokes and argue over what movie they would end up watching later that night and you felt the smile slowly begin to slip from your face as you came to the sobering realization that the type of dynamic they had, one that was so obviously built on love and trust, was something you never truly experienced before. It wasn't just something you saw in the movies or read in books. People in the real world actually got to experience it, and you couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Why not you? What did you ever do to receive the type of life you got?

After parting ways and thanking them over and over for dinner, you finally headed upstairs and collapsed on your small sofa. You untucked your work shirt and unzipped your skirt, but that was as far as you got, exhaustion winning the fight.

You closed your eyes and wished you had the energy to get up and run a bath, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it yet. Instead, you let your mind wander, imagining a life where you could call out to someone who cared for you in the other room and ask them to run the water. Maybe they would surprise you and light a few candles and mix in some soothing bubble bath. You knew that would never happen. You could never let yourself be honest enough with anybody to allow them into your life, but it didn't stop you from wishing for it, anyway. And right before you drifted off to sleep, you imagined that certain somebody had dark brown eyes and soft curls on the top of his head that you were itching to run your fingers through.

As hard as you tried to keep to yourself, the town was very small, and eventually you found it was nearly impossible to keep from making connections with people. Whether it was through work at the diner or striking up a conversation with someone at the store, you were quickly becoming interwoven in the lives of the people who graciously accepted you as one of their own.

You were particularly becoming fast friends with the girl who worked the register at the pizzeria below your apartment. Her name was Hailey and she was a couple years younger than you, but you had a lot in common, one of which was a shared taste in the same movies and books, so you were excited when she invited you to join a book club she and a couple other women in town started. As much as you enjoyed talking about books, you found you also very much enjoyed listening to all the town gossip that inevitably came out after everyone had their first glass of wine.

"So, Nikki, did I hear Sam asked you out on a date?" an older woman named Martha asked. Nikki blushed when the group turned to her, some women poking her in the side and others murmuring excitedly under their breath.

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," Nikki said, flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder. She looked to be a little older than you were but it was hard to guess her age.

"Not back in town for two weeks and she's already got a date," Hailey said, rolling her eyes next to you playfully. "Some girls got all the luck."

"Oh, stop it," she chided with a smirk, then paused as if she were rethinking her next statement before blurting out "kind of wish someone else woulda asked me out instead."

That got the whole group's attention, even your own, and you barely had any idea who most of these people were. But you supposed any amount of gossip paired with alcohol is good gossip.

"Oh, please, you don't gotta say it, we all know who you've been chasin' after all these years," another woman chimed in with a giggle. Fortunately, you weren't the only person in the dark.

"Who?" Hailey asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Joel, obviously," the other woman replied, and while the rest of the group groaned, everyone tossing in their two cents and offering up their favorite things about him, you remained frozen in your chair, blood running cold.

"Lord, he came into school last week to pick up Sarah, and the way his ass looked in those jeans..."

"Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly slipped on the ice and he caught me? Had to go to confession the next day..."

"... and I swear, I've considered committing a crime just so he would throw those handcuffs on me..."

"I don't know how that man has been single for so long..."

Part of you wanted to laugh at some of the things the women were saying about Joel, but the other part of you felt hot and angry. You wanted to scream shut up, don't think about him like that, don't even look at him. And through your alcoholic haze, you realized you were jealous. Jealous of all of these women, young and old, barking out comments about the town sheriff you had no business feeling jealous over.

The next day when he came into the diner for lunch, your head was still swirling with all of the comments the women in town made the day before. Distracted, you dropped your pen and pad on the ground as you made your way over to greet him, cursing under your breath.

Joel grinned when you finally approached, looking every bit as frazzled as you felt.

"Tough day?"

"Huh? Oh," you said nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear and shaking your head. "N-no, not really. Well, maybe - shit," you said when you knocked over a box of straws with your fidgeting.

Joel laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"What's got you all worked up?" he asked, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head again, trying to focus. "What can I get for you?"

"Nuh uh, darlin', not so fast," he said with a tsk, and you sighed. "What's goin' on? You can tell me, y'know. I am a man of the law."

He meant it to be playful, but with your history, it had the opposite effect. You winced and swallowed the lump in your throat, and trying not to make matters worse, you caved.

"I went to a book club last night," you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Book club, huh? Sounds like fun," he said, watching you carefully. "Maybe had a little too much fun?"

You finally dragged your gaze up to meet his and saw he was grinning at you, and you managed to force out a small laugh.

"Yeah, you could say that," you said, hoping that would be enough, but he wouldn't let it go.

"Can you get me a coffee? Then when I get back from the restroom, I wanna hear all 'bout your little book club," he said with a wink, then stood from his chair and turned around, heading towards the bathrooms while your gaze landed on his ass. It didn't look too bad in dress pants, either.

You tried to steady your breathing while you flipped over a clean mug and filled it with coffee, your mind racing and wondering what lies you could come up with to prevent telling him the reason you were so distracted.

Lost in thought with your head down, you didn't even notice when another customer took a seat at the counter until the man cleared his throat. You glanced up and apologized before bending down to grab another mug and set it down in front of the stranger.

You were pouring his coffee and telling him about the specials, your eyes glued to the counter, when he slid the barrel of a pistol across the table and into your line of sight. You froze, your hands gripping the coffee pot fiercely as you broke out into a cold sweat. You flicked your eyes back up to him. He didn't appear to be much older than you. He had his unkept hair hidden underneath his black hoodie, and you noticed his eyes looked bloodshot, his skin clammy. You knew that look. You've seen that same look one too many times.

"What do you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking.

"Open the register, gimme all the cash in this bag," he said quietly, tossing a tote bag across the counter at you. You nodded, grabbing the bag while your fingers fumbled with the buttons, desperately trying to remember how to open the drawer without a sale. You could sense he was growing frustrated with how long it was taking, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed quietly. "I-I'm new, I can't remember-"

"Hurry the fuck up," he growled, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision, the tears falling down your cheeks.

"Drop the fuckin' gun, Marcus," you heard Joel's voice call out, and a wave of relief coursed through your body. But Marcus got startled, and instead of doing as he was told, reached across the counter and grabbed you by the throat, pulling you against his chest to partially shield his body, the gun pressed against your temple as your fingers clawed at his arms.

You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. Tears just streamed down your face as you locked eyes with Joel. They no longer carried that playful glint, his lips no longer turned up into a grin. His brow was furrowed deep and his gun drawn, cradled expertly in his large palms as his eyes shifted back to Marcus.

"I'm not lookin' to hurt anyone, sheriff. Just lemme walk outta here," Marcus rumbled behind you, his sour breath invading your nostrils and making your stomach roll.

"Now, you know I can't do that," Joel said, taking a small step forward. "But put down the gun, let her go, and we'll talk."

The grip around your throat tightened and you let out a small, pained squeak. Joel's jaw clenched when he heard the noise, his patience running thin. You hadn't noticed at the time, but the entire diner had gone quiet, some patrons slinking down in their seats, others craning their necks to get a better look.

"Goddamnit, Marcus, don't test me today," Joel growled, his eyes ablaze. "I don't wanna call your mama and tell her I had to spray her only son's brains all over the floor, but I fuckin' will." The tone in Joel's voice sent a shiver down your spine as you stilled, waiting for the stand off to be over.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the grip on your throat loosened and you no longer felt the cold metal pressed against your head. Joel locked eyes with you again as you coughed and shakily fell down to the floor behind the counter, curling yourself into a ball while you heard Joel reading Marcus his rights, the jingle of his handcuffs rang like bells in your ears.

Once Marcus was restrained, you heard Tommy bolt out of the kitchen and rush over to you. He knelt down on the ground, asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor, concern lacing his voice but when he reached out to touch you, you flung yourself backwards violently, knocking the back of your head against the counter.

"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your head as fresh tears fell down your cheeks.

"Hey, easy now," Tommy said soothingly, glancing over the counter as Joel spoke on the phone with Bobby, ordering him to bring a car to take Marcus back to the station and book him.

"I'm fine," you whimpered, still rubbing your head as you shakily forced yourself to your feet. You watched as Joel marched Marcus to the front of the diner, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his shoulder as he directed him through the door. A few patrons clapped weakly as the two disappeared outside, and the diner filled with excited chatter once again.

"You alright, sugar?" Betty asked, suddenly appearing beside you, face etched with worry. You flinched and brought a shaky hand to your sore neck.

"Yeah, I just need to use the restroom," you said, and before anyone could say anything further, you tore off your apron and made a beeline for the women's room.

You locked the door behind you and slid down to the grimy floor, burying your face in your hands as you sobbed, the adrenaline wreaking havoc on your nerves.

It was too much. It was all too much. The look in Marcus's eye was one you saw too many times. A junkie in desperate need for a fix. A drunk who would say or do anything for another drink. The fingers around your neck were no longer there, but you still felt them squeezing every last bit of oxygen from your lungs, every tear from your eye until you could hardly breathe.

The door handle jiggled and you jumped, wiping furiously at your face before shouting out a shaky occupied!

"Hey, it's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side of the door. No longer did he have that hardened edge to his tone. The warmth and softness in his drawl had returned.

"I just need a minute," you said quietly after a long silence, and you heard him shift his weight.

"I know, but I - can you let me in?" he asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice. You slid your eyes shut as fresh tears drenched your face once again. You ached for comfort. You wanted it so badly you would do just about anything for it. But every other time, you've been let down. Over and over and over again.

"I just need a minute," you repeated, just a whisper, not even sure he could hear.

"Then I'll be right here til you're ready, alright?" his voice came back, even softer this time. You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. You heard him sit down against the door with a tired sigh, and you let your head tilt so it rested against the door. There was a small bit of comfort to be had when you knew only an inch separated you from him.

"You were real brave," he said after a few minutes of silence. You scoffed and wiped your nose.

"Is that why I'm crying on the floor of a bathroom?"

"Please don't cry," he said, his voice strained. But you didn't say anything in return.

"He wasn't gonna do nothin'. He's got troubles, is all. Bad habits get the best of him, but he's harmless," he said, trying to make you feel better.

"I don't know, these bruises on my neck say differently," you replied, and you heard his breath hitch. Then you heard his shoes scuff on the tile floor.

"Lemme see," he said, his voice firmer now. He was standing, his voice above you, waiting to be let in. You hesitated, the tone of his voice putting you on edge, but you knew you couldn't hide in there forever. With a trembling hand, you reached up and unlocked the door, then scurried backwards so you were pressed up against the opposite wall as he swung the door open and stepped inside. His gaze fell on you and his eyes went soft at seeing your wrecked state before clicking the door shut behind him.

He rushed forward and you flinched. A bad habit of your own. He paused and slowed his movements, crouching down in front of you instead. He lifted a hand to pinch your chin but you turned your face away.

"Will you show me?" he asked gently. You gazed up at him with red rimmed eyes, your knees pulled tight against your chest. Finally, you lifted your chin. Again, he reached a hand out, but you stopped him.

"Please don't touch," you whispered. He looked at you and nodded slowly, dropping his hand again, examining your bruises with only his eyes.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," he said after a few minutes, but you shook your head.

"I'll be fine, it's just sore," you said, and his gaze flicked up from your throat to your eyes. His lips parted the longer he stared at you, and you felt the tremor return to your hands. You couldn't look away, his gaze too magnetic.

"Don't like seein' you cry," he murmured, still gazing deep into your eyes, trying so desperately to read you.

"I cry all the time," you said without even thinking. He blinked and frowned. He was about to say something else when a gentle knock on the door interrupted him.

"You okay in there?" Maria called out. You sighed and stretched out your legs, standing up and waving off Joel's helping hand.

"We don't gotta do it today, but I'll need you to come by and give your statement sometime soon," he said, glancing down at you with a sympathetic look.

"Okay," you replied, your voice cracking a bit. You looked at one another, both of you wanting to say more but neither of you could. So you reached out to open the door, forcing a smile for Maria.

"Sorry," you told her meekly, and she laughed.

"You're sorry? You just had a gun pointed at your head and you're sorry?"

You laughed weakly, then stopped short in pain, your fingers brushing against your throat.

"I just wanted to bring you your purse so you could sneak out the back," she said, lifting your purse up and handing it over to you.

"But my shift-"

"Oh my god, take the day off," Maria said, shaking her head and grinning. "Think you earned it."

"Okay," you agreed, then turned to walk through the kitchen where you could leave out the back so no customers would gawk at you.

"Lemme walk you home," Joel's voice said, startling you. You had just assumed he went back out front.

"Don't you have to, you know... work?" you asked, floundering for the right word.

"He ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he walked by your side down the sidewalk.

The two of you walked quietly for a few minutes.

"I've never seen you like that before," you said, breaking the silence. He turned his head towards you, raising his eyebrows.

"Like what?"

"Like, all... cop-like," you said, chuckling at your terrible choice in words.

Joel grinned and glanced down at his feet.

"Yeah, well, job's not all inappropriate graffiti and speed traps."

You hummed in agreement as you kept walking.

"Do you have to unholster your service weapon often?"

"'Service weapon'?" he repeated, surprised at the term you chose. Although it wasn't wrong, it typically was not something most people said. You just looked at him, not acknowledging it, so he let it go.

"Uh, no, not really," he said, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Oh," was all you said, taking a deep breath and continued to stare straight ahead. He watched you from the corner of his eye for a moment.

"When I came outta the bathroom and saw - " he stopped short, then rubbed his lower lip with the pad of his thumb as he collected his thoughts. "You were scared. And I... reacted."

You glanced his way again, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. What was he trying to say?

"Thank you," you said softly, but he was quick to shake his head.

"Not lookin' for you to thank me," he said, finally allowing his gaze to drift back to you, giving you a small smile.

When you finally reached your apartment, you took out your keys and turned to him, ready to thank him again, even though he told you not to, but he spoke first.

"Here, why don't you take this," he said, holding out a small white card between his index and middle finger. You gingerly took it and flipped it over, reading the text on the other side.

"It's my card. Call me when you wanna stop by the station," he reminded you, and you nodded.

"My cell's on there, too. If you ever, y'know," he said, half a smirk playing on his lips as he nervously shifted his weight. "You ever wanna talk 'bout anythin', really. 'Bout what happened today, or... book club," he said, and you laughed. He grinned, relieved to finally see you smile again.

"Okay," you said with a nod, and turned to put the key in the lock.

He watched as you made your way all the way up the steps, and didn't leave until he saw the second door at the top of the stairs close firmly behind you.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77 @nandan11 @anoverwhelmingdin @fandomscollide @survivingandenduring

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #sheriff!joel #waitress reader #STR fic

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wokewindz · 5 months

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sooo i think it’s really fucked up how the first time you fight redeads in wind waker, you’re basically plopped into an inescapable pit with no access to light. you have to rawdog fighting not one, not two, but THREE FUCKING REDEADS for the VERY FIRST TIME YOU ENCOUNTER THEM. LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK NINTENDO. i wrote this fic about link’s first time encountering redeads. so here ya go.

—————

No Escape

The ancient, cold tomb in the Earth Temple had been still and silent a moment ago. That is, until Link nervously slid down into the pit of the room and slowly walked forward, where the five coffins that lined the wall in front of him suddenly burst open to reveal a threat he had yet to encounter until this moment. He stood frozen, his anxious heart thudding in his chest. His wide eyes were fixed on the three horrifying, alien creatures before him - Redeads.

Their decaying blue flesh hung from their skeletal figures like tattered rags, their empty eye sockets staring at him with a terrible malice before turning crimson as they let out the most piercing, horrifying screams Link had ever had the misfortune of hearing. Their wails sent shockwaves through the frightened child’s entire figure, making it near impossible for him to do anything except tremble uncontrollably in horror as he was forced to watch the three terrifying monsters slowly approach him with their massive, unhinged jaws. Their gaping mouths were open wide with one purpose - to devour the young hero with their unsettlingly large teeth by any means necessary.

There was a brief break in the horrific screaming, giving Link a small window of precious time to move. To draw the Master Sword and rid this room of these foul creatures, which still continued to slowly approach the boy. But these were no ordinary monsters. These were not the standard fare of enemies Link had grown accustomed to facing and quickly disposing of. No other foe, except for maybe Ganondorf himself, had ever filled his entire being with so much primal fear. And so, his mind blanked, making running away from the danger before him his only option.

But Link was trapped. He quickly turned on his heel and ran when he hit a wall, suddenly remembering that he was in a tomb with these monsters. A pit which there was no clear means of escaping. No ladder, no hanging vines, not even any grooves in the archaic stone to desperately grab onto and climb his way out of this nightmare. Adrenaline filled every inch of his body as he panicked, his breathing growing more rapid. Dread took over him as he realized that he was either going to have to face these terrible monsters, or this tomb was going to become his final resting place.

Just as Link whipped back around to see the Redeads closing in on him, one of them emitted another blood-curdling scream. The boy’s body betrayed him yet again as fear took over, immobilizing him. The other two Redeads that were closest to him seized their opportunity to capture their frightened prey as Link gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trembling as he braced himself for the dreadful onslaught. One of the creatures wrapped its gangly arms and legs around Link and began to viciously ram its huge teeth into the top of the boy’s head in an attempt to begin tearing off flesh to consume. When the other Redead noticed that the boy’s midsection was unoccupied, it bent down, turned its head to the side, unhinged its terrible jaws, and began to bite ravenously. As the two horrid creatures began feasting on their prey, the third Redead continued to belt deafening, horrific wails in an attempt to keep the boy paralyzed for long enough so that it too could eventually begin partaking in their meal.

Link was helpless against the onslaught as he continued to keep his eyes shut as tight as he could. He couldn’t breathe. Tears slid down his face as pure agony and terror coursed through his quivering body. Every bite his predators dealt shot pain coursing through him. He could feel blood begin to trickle down his face as the Redead attempting to eat his brains had punctured through his skin. His abdomen area began to feel damp with saliva as the other creature relentlessly gnawed on his stomach. Link’s mind was numb as he continued to be eaten alive.

As if the onslaught wasn’t brutal enough, the third Redead who had yet to begin feasting on the child let out another long, horrid shriek right before it’s outstretched hands and unhinged jaws lunged for the boy’s face. For a moment, Link snapped out of his petrified state to see the monster lunge at him and, in a panicked and desperate attempt to keep the creatures teeth from tearing his face off, held its head just far enough away so that it couldn’t reach him. Link turned his head to the side, his quivering arms desperately held the creature’s head back as it continued to push against him and gnash its uncomfortably massive, bloodstained teeth. Eager to feast upon the boy’s flesh, the bloodthirsty monster became frustrated with Link’s resistance and let out another agonizingly horrific scream to paralyze its prey.

Links eyes were now open wider than ever, his chest heaving with terror as he saw the thing’s gaping, putrid maw scream directly in his face, it’s beady red eyes piercing into his soul. It felt as if he was staring directly into the face of death itself. In that awful moment, Link felt another surge of adrenaline rush through him, and he realized he had to end this torture. If he didn’t do something now, he’d surely be eaten alive in this tomb. He wouldn’t be able to complete his mission of escorting Medli, the newly awakened Sage, through the temple. He wouldn’t be able to be by Princess Zelda’s side. He wouldn’t be able to ever see Aryll’s sweet smile ever again, or feel comforted by the warm, loving embrace of his dear grandmother. Mustering every ounce of his strength and courage, he managed to wriggle out and break free from his capture, instinctively unsheathed the Master Sword, and swung the blade wildly. Usually, his battle cries were filled with determination. This time, however, they were filled with pure fear and desperation.

After a few moments of panicked slashing, he stopped when he saw all three Redeads had fallen to the ground, defeated. One by one, they eventually vanished in plumes of swirling smoke. Still breathing heavily, Link pressed his back against the cold stone wall and slid down it, thudding onto the floor. He lifted a shaking hand up to assess the damage the monsters had dealt him. He felt a mixture of saliva and blood on his scalp and looked down to see a tear in his tunic, where more blood trickled from the bite marks on his abdomen. He tried to clam down, but instead, he curled himself in a ball and sobbed, his heart still pounding. Never in his entire life had he been so scared.

After allowing himself a moment to release his emotions, he noticed that one of the coffins had a small key inside it. Knowing that it was most likely a necessary tool to progress through the Earth Temple, Link’s quivering legs allowed him to get up and grab the key. When he turned around, he noticed a ladder had seemingly fallen from the ceiling. More relieved than ever, Link let out a long, shaky breath. He ran towards the ladder and climbed his way out of the tomb, reeling from the nightmare he had just endured. He hoped he could gather enough courage back to make it through the rest of the Earth Temple.

#wind waker #the legend of zelda #tloz #tloz ww #wind waker link #redead #redeads #wind waker redeads #redead zelda #this is my first fic ever so yea #fics #my fics

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callmelyc · 1 year

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#2023JuLance

Final week: birthday

Months ago Keith had promised lance he'd be home for his birthday. He was so sure in fact that his entire family, including their former team, had planned to celebrate the following day. It was unusual sure, but it would be the first birthday celebrated in the new house.

In their new house.

The one they had moved into together almost a year ago now.

Yet here lance is with his handheld sitting blankly in his hands. No matter how many times he checked it looked the same: keiths contact set to 'away' with the last message being "I might be a little late, I'm sorry Lance."

He exhaled not realizing he'd been holding a breath before putting the device out of sight and going to bed. Tomorrow morning was his birthday, the first he'd be spending in their home and he might end up spending it alone.

-*-

When lance woke this morning it was to a onslaught of messages, emails, voice messages and social notifications. The entire universe it seemed was wishing him a happy birthday, all the way down to the one space mob they'd met in a mission two years ago- but thats another story- yet one notification was still missing.

Keith's.

Lance sighed before replying to everyone else sending 'thank you's and heart emojis to those that mattered most. Then he looked back at Keith's contact....still blank. Lance frowns sending off a quick "are you alright samurai?" and starts his day.

Throughout the entire day Lance grows antsy, Keith has never failed to say good morning to him unless something serious comes up, he's never failed to respond either. And he doesn't think Keith would forget to actually wish him a happy birthday...right?

Eventually lance convinces himself he's being ridiculous, Keith is a busy man he said he'd be a bit late so...lance will just wait for him.

Yet as the hours pass his nerves are set on edge.

Krolia has no info, kolivan has no info, keiths lesbian band of technical war criminals also lack anything of substance. If he asked shiro then everyone would know he'd been spending his day alone-

He finds himself checking the messages constantly in-between pacing and silence that only his footsteps fill. With every ping that's not Keith Lance grows worried and a bit more heartbroken. Afterall Keith had promised him he'd be here, and he does try to give the benefit of the doubt, lance really does. But when it reaches midnight with no sign nor word about him, lance feels dejected to say the least.

A lot worried to say the most, it seeps into the cracks the heartbreak of broken promises left behind and lance doesn't know how to feel anymore.

In the end he'd spent his birthday all alone in their new house they're supposed to share together.

-*-

This morning he's woken by banging on his front door and the sounds of pidge trying to lockpick his locks. Despite how yesterday went he can't help but smile at his friends antics, it's nice to know someone is excited about his birthday still.

By the time he's opening the door he's tackled by flailing limbs and demands to get ready asap. "we don't have all day lance we have a lot to do so get up!" Pidge huffs though doesn't let him move an inch.

"I can't exactly do anything with a pigeon attached to me"

Through all the rush no one comments on the lack of Keith and lance tries his best to pretend he doesn't notice the hole he's left behind. During the ride to his family home he checks his notifications multiple times hoping Keith finally got a chance to reply. His own message still sits on delivered.

Everything is momentarily forgotten when they pull up to his childhood home. He's immediately swarmed by everyone he holds dear. hugs, kisses, tackles and joyful welcome it brings lance to laughter easier than he's been able these last few days.

Once ushered inside he's face to face with the house decorated more than he's ever seen, every surface is covered with food and every face that looks his way is so loving it nearly hurts.

The entire house looks like a mishmash of the observation deck and the sea. There's holograms of photos from places they've gone and Lance loved most, there's gifts lining an entire wall, there's something glittery hanging from the ceiling- Lance is speechless taking everything in.

"Do you like it?" Rachel ask rocking back on her heels "we spent MONTHS planning every tiny detail. Even shiro and Adam helped, OH and krolia-"

"I-" his voice cracks a tiny bit looking back to everyone "you guys didn't have to do this much"

"Of course we did!" Hunk says with abother hug "you deserve it-"

Shiro gives lances shoulder a comforting squeeze "you've always made sure our birthdays were a big deal we could only hope to do the same for you too lance"

When lances tears fall after that everyone thinks it's because he's overjoyed piling in for another hug, he is, but they don't realize it's also because of hurt too.

-*-

Lance spent the entire day trying not to think of Keith again, despite all the happy faces around him not a single one mentioned his absence. If it wasn't for their lack of worry he'd probably be half way across the universe to find him right about now. So instead lance sits and watches the sun start to set.

He looks at the shades of blue and red coming together reflecting in the soft glow. He looks at the way the tides brush the sand on the shoreline. He looks back to his handheld still blank of new notifications.

He looks back at Keith's messages and finds nothing has changed.

A final click and his device is fully off this time. No more checking, lance decides and he's walking back inside to gather his things.

"Leandro what are you doing?"

Lance briefly glances to his sister and smiles softly "I'm gonna head home a little early"

"Wait what-" she says almost panicked before schooling her face "why?"

He shrugs "just feeling tired, it's been a very long two weeks."

"But you can't leave yet!" She protest causing lance to turn to her brow raised.

"Is there another part of the birthday I'm missing?"

"Y-no!" She says unconvincing "but we enjoy having you here..."

"Uh-huh...sure," he laughs while getting his keys "I'll visit again tomorrow alright? I just...need some peace, ya know how things get sometimes."

Lance knew it was a bit of a low blow but he knows it works when Veronica looks at him in worry "ok, just...let us know if you need anything, ok Leo?"

Lance gives her a tight hug "always vera" then he leaves before anyone else has the opportunity to convince him otherwise.

-*-

When arriving home lance is unsurprised to find it silent. No Keith, no kosmo, just lance. He sighs letting his back slide down the closed door until he's on the floor.

Lance sets his face in his hands "im gonna kill you when you get back you dick-"

Unsure of how long he spends on the floor lance let's himself grow cold, he let's himself stay curled against the door. It's grounding, somehow comforting to his wave of emotion. He's sure he's halfway to finally breaking down when he hears the unmistakable zing of kosmo somewhere out in the backyard.

Looking up lance notices the time is back to midnight and by the time he reaches the backdoor lance decides he's furious.

Standing there, for the first time in two weeks, is Keith. Lance doesn't move to lessen the distance and he's certain whatever emotion he's wearing on his face is the only reason Keith hasn't motioned to close that distance himself.

"Hi-" Keith provides a bit awkwardly

Lance doesn't reply just continues to stare him down hoping Keith can feel the radiating disappointment he feels.

"I'm sorry..."

"Doesn't feel like it"

"That's not fair lance you know I am-"

"No-" lance snaps "what's not fair is for me to have spent all of yesterday and today worried sick about you because you wouldn't even read my messages and not a single person could tell me if anything even went wrong...." His voice cracks a bit causing keiths face to fall "I spent my birthday alone without a happy birthday from the one person I wanted it from the most."

Lance inhales trying to calm himself "this mission wasn't even a field mission, you weren't supposed to be in danger or out of range."

"I wasn't. I was safe, I was definitely in range..." Keith says as he slowly inches forward.

"Then why?" Lance practically begs because even if it was just a birthday, even if it was something so small he wanted Keith there he needed him to be.The tears trying to escape before finally start to fall "why did you leave me alone again?"

Before he can blink the tears away Keith is swooping in wiping them away with gentle hands. He's pulling lance in close to hug him tightly with a sea of im sorry's falling from his lips.

"I was planning something and it took longer than expected, I should've called you..." Keith says softly "im so sorry, I broke my promise... I never meant to hurt you lance."

They're on the ground now lance held close in Keith's arms and kosmo cuddling into lances lap. He lifts his head to look at Keith, finally look at him, and norices the exhaustion in his face too.

Lance chuckles weakly brushing his knuckles against Keith's eye bags "we're a mess of a pair aren't we ... I can't even handle a birthday alone and you look like you've been through a second war."

Keith's lips quirk up slightly "to be fair, I did heavily promise you wouldn't be alone for it, or ever, if I could help it."

"You failed that"

"I did"

"Doesn't explain the extra wrinkles-"

Keith huffs pulling back slightly to look lance in the eyes, really look "I can show you....if you want"

Lance agrees but doesn't expect Keith to fully pull back. He doesn't expect him to pull out a small box, he doesn't expect him to show lance an engagement ring.

"I originally had an entire speech planned..." He says not deterred by lances silence "but it doesn't feel quite right anymore."

Lance watches him inhale slowly drawing those purple eyes to look intensely into his own.

"Will you marry me?"

Lance blinks, let's the words soak into his skin-

"No"

Keith drops the box in shock "what?"

"I said no" lance reiterates but reaches down to pick the rings up and places them gently into Keith's hands.

"Why...?" Keith's voice cracks a little and lance almost feels bad.

"I'm still upset with you, you've broken so many promises and couldn't even say happy birthday to me-"

"Because I was busy finding the perfect ring!"

"Ah-ahaha" lance says "no interrupting! You can try again after you manage to make it up to me. Alright?"

Keith groans accepting defeat "fine! ok..."

Lance squeezes his hands with a quick kiss to Keith's forehead "now come on samurai, we both need sleep this entire thing was stressful."

That night they both go to sleep in each other's arms with I love yours falling from each other's lips.

A year later lances birthday is spent happily without a single worry or fear. He's not alone, their home is jovial, there's no missed messages from Keith and this time, when Keith proposes, he says yes.

Bonus:

"So when Veronica was trying to get me to stay-?"

"I was supposed to be waiting at the beach with the rings but I was later than originally planned..."

"I see..."

#voltron #lance vld #vld lance #lance mcclain #julance #klance #keith x lance #vld #written for twitter so sorry for any punctuation mistakes #established klance they just gotta work thru some things first

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wind-becomes-lightning · 1 year

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was bored at work today, wrote some drabbels at the request of and for friends. ( Hawks x OC/ Kakashi x OC / Dabi x OC / Shibi X OC / Kakashi x Zabuza / Fatgum x OC / Kakashi x OC returns)

+++

Kin & Shibi - Write about your ship celebrating their anniversary. for @qettleqorn

Before you get married, you are usually assaulted with an onslaught of well meaning advice about what the hardest part of marriage might be. Shibi feels like he got an especially high amount of that “good” advice because he was bringing a true outsider into the family. Everything from “she will get fat” (as if that mattered) to “she will just run away with a younger man” (what could he do about such a thing? Never get married?).

But none of them mentioned the truly hardest part about marriage, the fight he saw himself confronted with every year like some real annoying fly that would only come out in summer and then never stop following him around.

What to buy your spouse for your wedding anniversary? That- truly, was the hardest thing about marriage that nobody ever told you about.

As if looking for presents wasn’t already difficult enough, Shibi also managed to get a wife that he can’t buy jewelry for. Well, he probably could buy jewelry for her, but not only does she have already massive amounts of it, but she can also make them herself. Probably better than other stores could. Either way, this option was always out for him.

Year after year, he scraped by with some present or other. A rare species he found or modified to look especially beautiful, a big dinner, a new dress, decoration for the hair, more gem stones for the store, such things. It always put so much stress on him and he never felt it was good enough.

Now, after 15 years of this, he feels completely burned out on ideas. And the anniversary day is right there staring at him on his calendar. His mind is completely blank. There is nothing there. He is empty.

He could always ask Kin to just not gift anything for the anniversary. If they’d agree not to gift each other, he’d be free of his burden. But unfortunately Kin was always a rather good gift giver and would probably not agree, or agree on a “You don’t have to buy me anything, I’ll buy something for you though” basis, which would be no good.

Agony. Pain.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” his eldest son shrugs with his shoulders. “I don’t think mom expects much.” Shibi should know better than to ask teenagers for advice.

“I get my wife flowers too, so you can buy jewelry as well.” Shibi stares at Inochi, no way that guy buys his wife, who owns a flower shop, flowers for their anniversary. “You are so lazy.” Shibi walks away.

“She doesn’t like that sort of romantic stuff,” Shikaku puts his head to the side. “We usually just spent time away with Shikamaru either being with his grandparents or just on his own.” Shibi makes a sour face. What kind of present is “hanging out”? He walks away. Time to give up. His friends are no good either.

Yet, time keeps moving on, as cruel as that may be and the morning of the anniversary Shibi is non the wiser. There is no way he can let Kin know that he has nothing for her this time, that despite his best efforts he came home empty. The only thing he can do is distract her well enough that she won’t notice.

From morning until evening he is there for her at every moment. Making breakfast, helping her in the store, buying her lunch at the café in town she likes. When she askes to see the bug farm he takes her there, to that colourful species she likes. He carries the shopping bags as the sun sets and prepares dinner for the family in the evening. All through out, Kin doesn’t mention the anniversary a single time. His mission is a full success.

Night rolls around and both of them sit next to each other on the couch in their living room, when Kin turns her head and says: “I feel a little bad, despite my best efforts, I could not think of a gift for you for today.”

Shibi feels the sweat at his neck. So she has not forgotten. “Well, I – I’m glad”, he humms. “I couldn’t think of one either.”

Kin blinks: “What do you mean? You gave me one!?”

He blinks back: “No, I didn’t! What should I have given you?”

She laughs, the most beautiful sound in the world. “You spent the entire day with me! That was my gift I thought.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek. “It was the greatest gift too.”

Ah, Shibi thinks, that’s what Shikaku meant.

#prompt things #not my oc

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foxghost · 2 years

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Joyful Reunion

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Wu Du · A Youthful Jaunt (Part 2 of 2)

In the middle of the night, amidst a rainstorm, brooks joined together into a river to flow through the lowlands of the army camp at the foot of the mountains. Surrounded by the pitter-patter of rain, Li Jianhong placed a sheet of paper on the table, and he picked up the brush and wrote as Wu Du looked on: You ask of my return, but that day is not yet set; Mount Ba’s rainstorms have flooded the pond in autumn. When will we two trim the wick by the west window, and speak of the night rains that fall on Mount Ba?2

“Bring me the sealing wax,” Li Jianhong ordered, and Wu Du brought the sealing wax, heating it over a flame.

“A letter for my son.” Noticing Wu Du staring at the blank envelope, Li Jianhong explained, “He’s still in Shangjing.”

Wu Du did not answer. Li Jianhong added, “Have you ever had someone who’s constantly on your mind?”

Wu Du replied, “I don’t.”

He’d been working for Li Jianhong for only a few days, but Li Jianhong never ordered Wu Du around or treated him like a subject, which suited Wu Du perfectly. Conversations between them flowed as though they were fellow students from the same martial arts school.

Li Jianhong continued, “Assassins are not allowed to care about anyone. Wuluohou Mu, for instance.”

Wu Du sealed the envelope with the secret seal.

Li Jianhong said, “But you’re not an assassin, and you cannot merely be an assassin.”

Wu Du replied, “Certainly.”

“Everyone says that only by not having distractions can one reach the apex of the martial arts, as though a martial artist can only become a martial arts sage by not having any attachments, or by ridding oneself of all emotions and desires. But in my opinion, that’s not the case at all.”

Wu Du thought about this silently for a bit. After carefully putting the letter away, he replied, “It’s not that I don’t want to care about anyone, it’s that from the time I left the mountains at fifteen, my heart has never really moved for anyone.”

Li Jianhong raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze to Wu Du.

“Rare to hear something sincere out of your mouth for once,” Li Jianhong said coolly. “Without a care, all alone in the world, how can you know what you’re trying to protect?”

Of course Wu Du knew that the one always on Li Jianhong’s mind was the crown prince, who lived in the far north.

“The person who cares would know the longing of having someone they care about, but those who do not care about anyone would be at ease as only someone without cares can feel at ease,” Wu Du said.

Li Jianhong’s face broke into one of his rare smiles, and he added, “You will establish yourself someday, and get married. Someone will call you ‘husband’ or ‘master’, and someone will call you ‘dad’. Then, you’ll possess a kind of courage that you never had before. Even if you know it’d be through hell, you would run ahead without fear.”

“I made a vow. I can never marry.” Wu Du’s eyebrows drew together slightly.

Li Jianhong said, “Go on then.”

“Not to save the empire, nor for ambition, and not for the people’s welfare, either.” Seemingly lost in his thoughts, Li Jianhong said as Wu Du turned to go, “Those reasons are no longer your reasons. Your reason will only be the one who is always on your mind.”

Wu Du didn’t understand what he meant. He thought that he may live his whole life without ever understanding what he meant.

In the centre of a swirling eddy of leaves, Li Jianhong and Wu Du, one wielding the Zhenshanhe and the other the Lieguangjian, practised swordplay beneath a waterfall. Li Jianhong made ten moves, but Wu Du only managed to strike back twice before almost collapsing under his onslaught. He cannot help but feel entirely won over by Li Jianhong’s skills.

“Your style leans too heavily on offence and too lightly on defence.” Li Jianhong stopped attacking, and said gravely, “You’re putting your life on the line with every move. That’s why you can’t win against me.”

Ever since Wu Du left the mountains, he’d never suffered such a humiliating defeat — he’d downright been beaten to the point of losing all confidence in himself. He said moodily, “It doesn’t really matter what you say. A loss is a loss.”

“Take it back,” Li Jianhong said unhurriedly.

“Can’t take it back,” Wu Du said helplessly, “I can afford to lose.”

Li Jianhong said offhandedly, “Soon enough, somebody will be behind you, watching you. Then, you’ll be able to take it back.”

There was a deep furrow between Wu Du’s brows.

Li Jianhong said, “Only when that time comes will you realise that it has nothing to do with whether you can or cannot afford to lose, but that you ‘must not lose’.”

The two of them sheathed their swords at the same time. Facing Wu Du head-on, Li Jianhong said solemnly, “Wu Du, promise me one thing.”

Wu Du got a bad feeling right away, and he replied without pause, “Your Majesty, you mean …”

Li Jianhong raised a hand to interrupt Wu Du. He reached out with his left hand as though picking something out of the air, and with that invisible something between his fingers, he made a flicking gesture at Wu Du. Wu Du, having no idea what it all meant, stared at Li Jianhong.

“I leave this string in your keeping.” With his left hand, Li Jianhong made a binding motion as though tying a knot. He said, “It is my son, my empire of Great Chen, the fate of the central plains. If something were to happen to me on this campaign, you will look after my son. When your sword leaves your sheath, he will be on your mind, just like the way he is always on my mind.”

Wu Du did not hesitate and saluted Li Jianhong.

Moonlight shone across the empires as the army got into formation, and they were to march at the first light of dawn. Wu Du stood outside the tent, and looking up at the moon, he took out his flute and began to play the Joyful Reunion.

On the night of the Seventh of Seventh, Shangjing fell.

“Where is he?!” When Wu Du finally managed to fight his way into the city, the whole place was in a state of pandemonium. He searched all over for a young man’s face that might possibly be a match, and every time he grabbed someone he would ask urgently, “Are you … are you Duan Ling?”

The street outside the Viburnum was covered in corpses. Wu Du had been shot in the shoulder, and he was dragging himself through the streets; instead of the crown prince, however, what he found was Li Jianhong’s body. He knelt before Li Jianhong’s body and let out a mournful shout, and he reached up to wipe away the rain and blood on his face. There was no time to grieve; he turned around and ran into the Viburnum.

The sound of killing seemed to fade and grow distant. Holding the Zhenshanhe, all of Wu Du’s strength was for nought; his eyes were hollow, bewildered; he had been neither to rescue Li Jianhong nor manage to fulfil the trust placed in him. Then and there, all the strength that had carried him thus far abandoned him, and along it went hope, faith … all the tenets that led him to decide to start again, to live beneath the sun.

“Ah—ah—” Wu Du began to howl almost madly, and with the Zhenshanhe in his grip, left the Viburnum again. He struck down a Mongolian soldier with the sword as soon as he saw him, and he had no idea what he should do; like a walking corpse, he’d become a killing machine moving amidst the flames of war.

Soon, corpses were piling up around Li Jianhong’s body. When the Chen army arrived, Wu Du finally tossed the Zhenshanhe aside and landed heavily on his knees next to Li Jianhong.

“I’m sorry — Your Majesty,” Wu Du said, choking on tears, “I’m sorry …”3

Xichuan, in the fragrance of late autumn.

The evening he heard that the crown prince had returned to court, Wu Du felt as though he’d been struck by a million bolts of lightning. He was being taken out of his jail cell then, and upon overhearing the servants in the palace discussing the crown prince’s return, nothing else seemed to matter, and he pushed the guards aside and ran towards the imperial study on bare feet. When he got there, the study was already surrounded by countless officials, all a hubbub with excitement. The bodyguards there blocked Wu Du’s way, and Wu Du said anxiously, “Let me inside! Get your hands off of me!”

With the guards in the way, Wu Du tried to look inside. He gasped hard for breath and howled, “Let me inside! Wu Du is here seeking an audience! Your Majesty! Wu Du is here seeking an audience!”

“Let him come in,” Li Yanqiu’s voice said calmly.

The door opened. Wu Du stood outside, dishevelled in prisoner’s garb, and locked eyes with the crown prince.

“His name is Wu Du,” Li Yanqiu said to the crown prince, “when your dad went into battle, he was the one who travelled at his side.”

The crown prince immediately started to shake, and tears were brimming over uncontrollably from his red-rimmed eyes, looking as though they were about to spill.

“It’s you,” Wu Du suddenly recalled that winter, and Cai Yan with the plum blossom cake hidden in his robes. “It was you … I remember now! I’ve seen you before!”

The mood grew tense at once. Cai Yan’s hand rolled into a tight fist, as though trying to hold onto something, and his cheeks turned red.

“Your dad left you in my care,” Wu Du pushed the guard away and got down on one knee. He looked up at Cai Yan. Under a rush of shock and nerves, he was almost beyond reason.

“I let him down, and I let you down. For the rest of my life, I shall, I shall … if Your Highness would not shun me for the criminal that I am, and pardon me, I shall spend rest of my life …”

Lang Junxia gave Wu Du a glance, then turned to Cai Yan with a complicated look in his eyes.

“Why!?” Cai Yan said between a sob, “my dad, he, how could he …”

Gasping, Wu Du said, “It’s all my fault. Your Highness, the late emperor told me that if something ever happened to him …”

As though he’d lost his mind, Cai Yan yelled at the top of his lungs, “I don’t want to see his face! Take him away! Sentence him to death! He killed my dad!”

Wu Du wasn’t finished, but these words had startled him; what little spirit that remained in his eyes ebbed away. The guards came up, grabbed him by the arms, and dragged him away again.

This time, Wu Du didn’t struggle. He let them drag him back to his cell like a corpse.

The light in his jail cell brightened, darkened, and brightened again; the skylight above turned white, and then black. Wu Du felt as though his soul had returned briefly in that one instant, and was abruptly ripped away again. For months, he repented against nightmares and blood, then suddenly a voice jumped out of the dark to forgive him without any warning, but this forgiveness wasn’t what he wanted at all.

The weight on his shoulders had always exceeded a thousand jin, but it was also proof that he was alive. Now that it’d been lifted, he felt empty and free, but it was as though they’d taken away the last shred of hope that made him cling to life.

Mu Kuangda walked into the jail cell, stood outside the iron bars, and stared at Wu Du.

“Your wish has already been fulfilled,” Mu Kuangda said.

Wu Du grinned and let out an almost mad bark of laughter as though he was mocking his own fate, mocking this pointless, meaningless joke that destiny had played on him. He still remembered how he’d felt the day he left White Tiger Hall, the day he’d come out of the mountains.

“He hasn’t gone mad, has he?” Chang Liujun said suspiciously.

Mu Kuangda said, “He hasn’t gone mad. Wu Du, what are your plans?”

“Destiny makes fools of us all.” Wu Du stopped laughing, a vacancy in his eyes. “I should have died long ago.”

“That’s not necessarily true.” Mu Kuangda opened the jail cell’s doors and said to him, “Come on out. A capable man must choose a prudent leader to follow. Why put all your eggs in one basket?”

Wu Du forced a smile. Every single time he polished the Lieguangjian in the Grand Chancellor’s estate, he would remember what Li Jianhong once told him.

Only when that time comes will you realise that it has nothing to do with whether you can or cannot afford to lose, but that you ‘must not lose’.

But now, what even is the significance of winning or losing? He once thought he’d walked into daylight, but it wasn’t even a few days before he had to stumble back into the long night.

And he remained there until that ray of light made a loud noise, shining into his world, illuminating the earth and sky to blinding white.

Without a care, all alone in the world, how can you know what you’re trying to protect?"

“Shan’er —!”

Seventh of Seventh, before the Tongguan gate: Wu Du spurred his horse to a gallop, raised his left hand with his finger-daggers, and with the Palm of the Realm, he blocked the two-handed sword coming down at him with strength enough to crack the earth!

Then, you’ll possess a kind of courage that you never had before. Even if you know it’d be through hell, you would run ahead without fear.

“Charge with me!”

Seventh of Seventh, outside the city of Ye: a line of beacons shone like the Silver River, a road to heaven; Wu Du led an army through a rain of flaming arrows, his armour reflecting the golden light showering down at the horizon like meteors as they ford that grand river separating life from death.

“Who do you fight for?”

Not to save the empire, nor for ambition, and not for the people’s welfare, either. Those reasons are no longer your reasons. Your reason will only be the one who is always on your mind.

“All my life, I’ve never believed in the will of heaven, but now I have no choice but to believe.”

Seventh of Seventh, in the emperor’s tomb halfway up Mount Yuheng: wielding the Zhenshanhe, dressed in the emperor’s armour, Wu Du flung open the doors to the tomb. A million points of starlight illuminated the path before him, and against a tide of bolts and swords, he swam upstream.

“This is my … lord and master.” When Duan Ling smiled, there had been affection in his eyes that even he hadn’t noticed, but Wu Du understood and his heart shook with the knowledge.

In a blood-red maple forest, Duan Ling, with those eyes and that smile, began to show him the Palm of the Realm, starting and pausing. Whenever he forgot the moves he would stop, scratch his head, and make up something to get to the next part. The maple leaves kept falling, sometimes obscuring his features. Wu Du reached out with a shaky hand and searched for that invisible string of fate hovering over his wrist, trying his darndest to hold onto something.

Tonight is the very first time in his life that he’s felt so dearly fond of peach blossoms.

The music stops. The night is still, and peach blossoms drift through the air.

“Choose the place you love the most … anywhere is fine. The edge of the oceans, the ends of the earth, as long as you want to be there, I’ll be at your side …”

Duan Ling takes the bracelet from Wu Du, and turning, presses a kiss to his lips.

Spring breeze blows through the wilderness, through the peach trees, waking the silent, desolate night, waking the mountains from their deep sleep. Overnight the peach blossoms drift past Lord White Tiger, how brilliantly they bloom, how radiant and splendid; and every petal is turning into that endless string of fate in samsara that can’t be cut, that tangles all the more as one tries to untangle it. One end spells yearning for all one’s life, the other end ties them together for one lifetime —

— 'til death do us part.

This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Duan Ling received this letter in this chapter. ↩︎

Things did not quite happen this way. Helan Jie’s assassins took the Zhenshanhe and its whereabouts became a minor plot point. When Wu Du fought his way back into the city, he had to fight to get Li Jianhong’s body back from the Mongolians. All Wu Du managed to bring back to Xichuan was Li Jianhong’s body and the set of black armour he had been wearing. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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latibvles · 2 years

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SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // hyacinthus

fragrant, flowering plants, commonly called hyacinths.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

WARNINGS: descriptions of blood, gore, bodies, suicidal ideation in a historical context (the Japanese refusal to surrender), bullet wounds, and exhaustion. haha guys remember those nice kissing prompts haha please forgive me for this.

SUMMARY: at its root, a nurse's job is to care for the wounded, to save lives in a setting where the goal is to snuff it out. but knowing the difficulties and experiencing them firsthand are two vastly different things.

TAGLIST: @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @monalisastwin

DEDICATIONS: to my beloved bella ( @brassknucklespeirs ) for beta-reading this chapter like three weeks ago when i was having horrific dread over posting it. you are my beloved SBT secret keeper forever >:) ♡ also when she read this chapter it was called “damn ma do you treat wounds with those hands??” just so we all are on the same page.

Is it cruel that she finds treating men she doesn’t know easier?

There’s a sick sort of relief in not knowing names or faces or how the men in Dog Company handle their liquor. It’s a selfish thought, one that Daisy keeps to herself, because even though it logically makes sense, she can’t help but feel that it’s, fundamentally, not a good thing to voice.

It doesn’t change the fact that when a stranger dies, it hurts less than when a friend does, which is what it comes down to at the basic level. It always hurts, even a little bit, because knowing that she can’t save everyone doesn’t mean she won’t try — but at the very least, she won’t be burying a friend.

So maybe it’s selfish, and a little cruel, but dealing with this onslaught is undeniably easier than dealing with it up with Easy Company.

The Germans, for some godforsaken reason, decided that erratic, disorderly assaults would be to their advantage. In response, the men remained stubborn in their foxholes for a whole day. So no ground was lost, but the plains were bloodied and corpses were plentiful the morning of October 10th — Germans sprawled out on the grass and GIs slumped in the pits. They help who they can, and somehow, she finds herself helping Carolyn pluck the dog tags from those who weren’t as lucky.

“That whole damn thing reminded me of the Pacific,” she states as she slips into the hole, kneeling in front of a Private with cold, lifeless eyes. From the edge, Daisy watches with a grimace. He looks as young as Guarnere. “That's what they’ll do. It’ll be a nice quiet night and then… POW! Japanese on all sides. N’ they’d charge right into a suicide run all the same.” She accentuates it by bringing a fist to her palm, before finally grabbing the tags. Daisy shudders at that.

Some of the men were horrified once light began to peek over the horizon. It’s different seeing the carnage in the daylight. Bodies mutilated beyond compare by rifles or machine guns, contorted in ways that they never would be in life. Like sheep to slaughter. In spite of her own reservations, she can’t help but wonder who in their right mind would order this as they pass by another German corpse, mangled from an artillery round.

Blood crusted over her hands, dirt beneath her nails, she keeps eyeing the line where the Germans charged the night prior.

“And they don't surrender either. They’d prefer to die.”

Daisy frowns. Carolyn rolls a handful of dog tags in her hand with a blank expression.

“Sounds terrible.” She remarks with a grimace.

“That’s one way of putting it,” they begin to make their way back off the front line in a hurried pace, towards Battalion CP. “Now let’s just hope Sergeant DiMarzio is there for me to hand these off.” She wonders aloud. Daisy raises a brow at that.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Carolyn looks at her, and her lips tug into a frown, like she’s queasy or otherwise unwell. She avoids Daisy’s gaze for a moment, taking a lip between her teeth.

“There’s supposed to be an all-day patrol today, and I’m pretty sure he and ah… Speirs are going, with a few others.” Her eyes flit back to Daisy, then looks her up and down. Daisy’s lips pull into a frown in the examining way Carolyn stares at her.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Carolyn purses her lips, going to rub the nape of her neck and shifting her gaze ahead once again.

“I mean — he’s your friend right? You and him and James were all close?” At that, Daisy wants to facepalm, but fights the urge to. Regardless, her face feels hot and she wants to curse herself for jumping to conclusions. “Just wondered if you were worried or not. About him.” She bites her cheek for a moment and swallows hard, prying her gaze away from the side of Carolyn’s face as the redhead turns to look at her fully, like breaking eye contact would grant her some kind of protection.

“We used to be. He’s closer to my brother than me. We get along well enough,” Daisy hopes, prays even, that Carolyn will let the topic die out and talk about anything else. She glances to the side. Carolyn’s brows are furrowed, like she’s confused.

“James told me all three of you were thick as thieves.”

“James hasn’t been home in a while.” It’s an immediate response, and maybe it comes out harsher than she intends for it to be. Daisy turns to look at her, and frowns. “...sorry, that was rude.” Carolyn shakes her head, waving her hand dismissively at the apology. Still, she looks Daisy up and down in an examining sort of way. She comes for a halt, a few feet away from CP, and Daisy stops beside her.

“Then… What changed? You just— you two seemed to be pretty close. From what I’ve seen.”

What changed? She’s asked herself that question a million times — from the day he left to the day she arrived. James hadn’t been there for walks through town at night, or hugs that last too long, or kisses on the cheek that burn and linger long after the giver has been pulled away by train. He hadn’t been there for ‘Missing you, Daisy’ or ‘Thinking of you, Ronnie.’ He wasn’t there to witness Daisy’s flushed cheeks or fluttering heart, and he wasn’t there to wipe her tears before she cut the strings on the whole thing. He wasn’t there when home stopped feeling like home. What changed? It was more like what didn’t change. But that isn’t the answer Carolyn wants. So she shrugs, rubs the nape of her neck.

“War separated us. That’s all.”

Another eerily quiet night in with Catherine and Carolyn, the other women around them getting much needed rest. They spent the majority of the day loading stretchers onto ambulances to be evacuated from the area, before more are loaded in. They aren’t overrun with casualties, which is nice, but watching men moan and grovel in pain is never easy. By the time it’s slowed down, they all look a bit worse for wear.

Ward, ever the saint, encourages Daisy to get some sleep, that she’ll wake her if there’s anything pressing, and for once — Daisy doesn’t have it in her to argue. She slumps in an unoccupied chair, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug and leaning her head up against one of the wooden beams holding up the barn. Her eyes flutter shut, and she doesn’t know how long she’s stuck in that space between being asleep and awake. She can hear Catherine and Carolyn’s quiet murmurings, but doesn’t have it in her to respond. And she’s thankful that the entire thing is decidedly dreamless. She hears another noise, distantly, but it’s not close enough for her to truly discern.

BAM! The door slams open and she snaps her eyes open, jumping to her feet as a very disheveled and rattled looking Sergeant bursts into the room. He looks around, then his gaze finally settles on Lieutenant Ward as he pants.

“Lieutenant Speirs was shot crossing the river. I need— I need help moving him.”

Daisy’s blood runs cold. She forgets to breathe for a moment. Catherine is talking to the Sergeant, but she can’t even process the words. It’s all murmurings, as though she’s still suspended in sleep. Speirs was shot. Speirs was shot.

Ronnie was shot.

“Clarke!”

Daisy blinks, looks to Catherine, who’s brows are furrowed as she stares at her expectantly.

“Call me a jeep. You’re coming with me and Sergeant Mihock. Foster, clear a table.” Daisy nods rapidly, speeding over to the radio. Her hands are trembling as she picks up the blocky transceiver.

“This is Lieutenant Clarke from Dog Company OP two, we need— we need a jeep over here now,” Daisy tries to keep her voice even. She isn’t sure if it's working. Ronnie was shot. He could be dead already. He could be bleeding out. There’s an ache in her throat as she hangs up — it feels like years until that jeep arrives, Mihock, Ward, and herself all climbing in and speeding off into the dead of night, until they’ve reached the river bank. Mihock jumps out and Daisy quickly follows with Ward behind.

She hears his shivering first.

In the darkness she can’t make out much of anything. The bush Mihock dragged him under obscures whatever light the jeep provides. But as her eyes adjust she can make out his outline, how it trembles, how his teeth chatter in the cold October air. As they lift him onto the stretcher — it’s apparent that he’s soaked. But they get him on quickly and get him to the jeep and all the while Daisy feels like she’s going to vomit. Ward stays with him in the back. Daisy isn’t sure she can stomach it. They get him back to the aid station where Foster waits and holds open the door and in the light it’s even worse of a sight.

He’s soaking wet, clothes heavy with water but she’s able to make out several bullet holes near his hip and rear end. Whatever cam cream once coated his features is long since smudged away. They get him on a table, on his stomach. He opens his eyes for a second. He looks at her. There’s no expression on his face beyond that of sheer exhaustion.

She isn’t sure if her next move is instinctive or a calculated decision.

“I can do it.” She blurts, making her way towards him. Ward doesn’t argue as Daisy pulls the necessary items from her pack — scissors, tweezers, sulfa powder, bandages.

She takes off his jacket, sheds her own off her shoulders to drape over his shivering torso as Foster goes about drying his head. Then she grabs the scissors and starts to cut away at parts of his pants to better see the bullet wounds. Sometimes, she just tears it. It’s reflexive, how she transitions from cutting to grabbing tweezers and goes to pull the bullets from his hip and rear. For a second, she forgets that it’s Ronald Speirs that she’s treating. He’s just another GI, one of the probable hundreds she’s helped in the span of the four months she’s been in the service.

And then he groans.

It’s such a quiet thing, but she hears it. His weak indication of pain. And suddenly it is Ronnie’s wounds, and it’s Ronnie’s blood on her hands, under her nails. It’s Ronnie shivering, soaking wet and too tired to say much else.

“Shit. I’m— I’m sorry. Okay just — fuck — okay, almost done, Ronnie.” Her voice trembles as bad as her hands as she clumsily mutters out apologies. Her heart is pounding in her ears, any other reassurances she can provide die before they make it out of her mouth. But she pushes forward, getting all the pieces out. She tears the packet with her teeth, sprinkling it in the wounds. Ward helps her bandage him, moving his leg with precision so Daisy can work quickly. She ties it tight enough, then lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Daisy feels their stares on her, but all she can do is stare at him. Like if she looks away, he’ll surely die.

“Clarke, do you want to come with me t—”

“I can,” Carolyn immediately cuts Ward off. “I’ll… I’d like to go with you, ma’am.”

Daisy isn’t listening to the conversation, but she feels Carolyn’s gentle squeeze on her shoulder, hears the door shut. In the commotion, a few of the other women rose to their feet — she can feel their lingering looks, as they all try to resettle, but she doesn’t have the strength to care for the staring. She stalks over, grabs the chair she was sitting in, and brings it up beside him. She isn’t sure if he’s awake or asleep now. She sits down, and reaches to grab one of Ronnie’s hands. It’s limp, and cold, and his fingers are pruned. Hers are stained with his blood, because the thought of cleaning herself up makes her nauseous.

Open or closed, his expression is still pained. Carolyn did her best to dry him. His dark hair still clings to his forehead, damp. She hates this. She hates whoever ordered this patrol, hates whoever shot him, hates that he was alone and probably set it up that way himself. And if she weren’t so tired, maybe her anger would be enough to get all the British Armor and then some across the Rhine. Maybe it’d burn down Berlin. Let it burn for all she cares. Right now, all she wants to do is take him somewhere no one will ever hurt him again. And maybe that’s selfish — but she can regret that in the morning. Her thumb rubs over the back of his hand.

Ronnie’s eyes open slightly, just enough for her to make out those slits of pretty hazel through smudged and fading cam cream.

“…you a dream?” he mutters, his voice thick and scratchy with exhaustion. Her throat tightens and her eyes gloss over. She feels his hand try to squeeze hers, but it’s weak, so she squeezes a bit tighter in response.

“I’m here.” Daisy whispers her reply. As though he’s content with the answer, she watches him slip back into sleep without another word.

I wish I could scold you. She wishes he were Liebgott or Eugene or any other man. Because Joe is like a brother who she can scold for his impulse. Eugene is a good friend and just as careless as her at times. But Ronnie isn’t a good friend, or a brother. He makes her cry. Makes her smile. He enters the room and against her better judgment she’s happy in a way she swore she wouldn’t feel again. Ronnie isn’t a friend. He’s more. He’s so much more. She's terrified of what that means.

She doesn’t let go of his hand the whole night, not even when she, too, falls into an uncomfortable slumber.

#band of brothers #ronald speirs #ron speirs #band of brothers fic #hbo war #fic // sad beautiful tragic #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs fic #ronald speirs x oc #hbo war fic #I’ve been waiting for this chapter since I hit market garden #Ronald Speirs the man that you are #and in case u were wondering #purple hyacinths represent remorse and forgiveness #so

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cataclysmet · 4 months

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I remember when the guilt used to eat me up. Swallow all my limbs and gnaw its way into my lungs. I remember the surety of knowing that maybe if I suffered just a little bit more, all the wrong things in my life would turn themselves right. He wouldn’t make time for me, so I punished myself with work, I became sick and refused to heal myself. Believing my pain would somehow fix either myself or another.

Sometimes these feelings will resurface. Two characters will be arguing in a book, it’s a fight. And the main character never does what I would do. They don’t run, don’t push the other away, don’t throw up walls and barricades against the onslaught, don’t lock themselves away inside their own chest and turn a blank face to the world. These are things I would do. I couldn’t fight for what I want, there is no drive for it: I still believe myself unworthy. Because even though I’ve gone down to the battlefield to slash and hack at this monstrous guilt, its roots still exist.

There is still a part of me that believes I must suffer for the bad things that happen. Digging into my chest again and again, scourging my soul open, sighing and weeping mea culpa mea culpa.

#letters to myself #depression journal #guilt

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annihilatian · 10 months

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[ SCAR ]. lumine

[ SCAR ]: noticing a scar on the receiver’s skin, the sender tentatively stops them from covering it up, and rests a gentle, soft kiss over it. @yanwangye

here in the gold light of sunrise, eternity stretches through. they’ve lost the last day to this, lounging, revealing, reveling, leaving only for the barest necessities (and paimon's flittering insistence). all new territory, exploration, unhurried in its tenderness. time to make up for, she’d laughed earlier, but it had been a truth all the same. how many hours spent lying in the dark, carried by the thought of his hands? hands that run now over her in slow ease, stretching out over her thighs as she straddles his hips, sets her own palms on each of his bracketing forearms. a light hold, encouraging.

it isn't a display. an offering, maybe. whatever one could call it, letting him take his time tracing and charting each hitch and divot of her form. here, look, see. she feels no flinch or shy-flush about the bareness of herself, watching him watch her, his eyes falling away to thumb at an old wound. when he asks, she can't remember, sheepish and shrugging. her body's hardened since it fell, fell down into the earth. this world makes a weapon of her and demands a weapon in kind. new scars shine, stretch on her skin, others fading from the first days she stumbled through -- others old, older than buildings, near faded to nothing.

her back aches, phantom pains.

she inhales shaky, quiet, as his touch slides up further, past her legs to chart across her hips, up along her torso. his fingers slide against another, not new, but not old either. puckered, long, it curls over her left rib, shredding at the back. that one, she knows. remembers the impossibly harsh pressure, rip of violent water tearing through her skin, how she'd thought for a moment -- a long, awful moment -- splayed out on the platform as another wave took over, more fatui surrounding, water up to her knees now around her ears, catching in her lungs, that she might find her end drowning in the sky.

" that was osial. that final push. " she says baldly, face blank. there are more from that terrible stretch of hours; nicks and scratches from the onslaught of fatui, one here or there from the harbinger's own hydro - blade. she doesn't point them out. no need for it, that fight long past and more to come no doubt -- so instead she grabs his wrist, pulling his fingers away from where her skin has mended itself or been forced together by someone else's healing. hardly smooth. pottery shards put back together.

she presses a quick, punchy kiss to the jut of his knuckles; seeking assurance maybe, strange hesitation sitting in her chest. " find everything you were looking for? "

#this had me googling high pressure water injury scarring. the things I do for elemental-specific angst.#when you both fought the same god <3 (wildly different circumstances) (WILDLY)#yanwangye

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tteokdoroki · 4 years

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— “SHARING IS CARING + DABI/TOUYA TODOROKI.” ft. shoto todoroki.

author’s note(s): i havent written in days bc ive been working on other things but here’s this bc i am a whore. btw reader and shoto are third years/18 in this so hold onto your wigs lol.

warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut, dark content, dub-con, manipulation, cheating, choking, breath play, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyerism kinda, corruption!kink, virginity loss, degradation. characters aged up to 18. fem!reader.

touya todoroki has always been better than his brothers, at everything. praised from a young age for his powerful abilities, handsome face and charming smile— touya is the todoroki family’s prized gem. the favourite, prodigy son. the one who always gets what he wants. of course, until precious shoto todoroki arrives.

shoto, the undeniably gorgeous boy with dual chrome eyes and hair to match— an aloofness about him that draws everyone in, especially at school where he excels and wears himself at the top of his class in U.A academy. now; he’s everyone’s favourite boy, endeavour’s, his mother’s and yours. you, the sweet and innocent little girl who lives about two blocks away. the whole neighbourhood knows who you are, the apples of your cheeks stretched into a darling smile, that’s sometimes etched with an air of shyness when someone compliments you on how pretty you are.

you have doe eyes that watch shoto with such awe because you’re so impressed by what he can do, because you love how kindly he treats you and how he protects you from hungry stares belonging to others. touya finds your innocence annoying; the first time his younger brother brings you for dinner. the way you stutter over your words when speaking with rei or enji and how hide behind shoto whenever the eldest enters the room.

but you’re nice to look at, he can see why his pest of a younger sibling keeps you around. does shoto realise how far your skirt rides up over your ass whenever you bend over? how your thighs resembling pillows spill over the tops of your school socks? and how your lips are always so bitten and cherry red— everything about you is so fuckable.

and like i said, touya todoroki always gets what he wants.

“i’m better than him, aren’t i sweetness? you like the way this cock fucks you. c’mon, tell me how good i make you feel.”

touya doesn’t really need an answer, especially when it’s unlikely that he’ll get one from you. pretty little girl, sweet ass up in the air and raw from the onslaught of spanks he’d given you earlier. your cunt shines with a slickness he so proudly knows that he’s caused and your hole puckers around nothing— so eager to be filled by the eldest todoroki’s cock. “t-touya, need you. p-please...” you babble, clawing at his black linen sheets, already stained with nectar from your leaky cunny.

oh you’re so good, so nice for him when you’re fucked dumb and on the edge of frustration— you say just what he wants to hear, so eager to please that you’d beg him for days if it meant you’d get your pussy abused and used. “that’s right little girl, you need me, right? ‘cause lil sho can’t take you the way i do. you need me to show you what it’s like to feel good.”

touya lives for the way your hips jump back from just his dirty words alone, clit pushing deliciously against the tip of his length— you’re so cute when you want it. when you wanna be fucked by an older, more experienced dick. you know that touya has what shoto doesn’t. you know you can always rely on him to make you cum when shoto can’t.

any decent older brother would feel bad for taking advantage of his sibling’s girl, but touya has a point to prove. he’ll always be the better todoroki, he knows that, especially when his burning cock sinks into your tight hole— the one that welcomes him into your velvet walls, so perfectly carved into the shape of him.

a drawn out and gargled whine bubbles in the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes roll so far back into your head touya would have thought you’d passed out, it wouldn’t have been the first time either.

oh no, he remembers the way he’d made your fleshy thighs quiver and your meek voice turn to screams when he’d taken you in the bathroom across the hall from shoto’s bedroom the first time you stayed the night. or the time that he’d cornered you in the kitchen while you made a study snack for you and your boyfriend, carelessly flipping your skirt up and creaming in your virgin cunt until all you could say were mindlessly repeats of his name. touya. his name always sounded so pretty against jumbled words that slid across your tongue.

that one time in the kitchen, touya had sent you back to shoto’s room with your pink lace panties full of his pungent seed and had listened to shoto fuck it deeper inside of you later that night when you let the younger take you for the first time. touya wonders if his little brother truly believes he was lucky enough to take your virginity or if he knows how much of a whore you are for the eldest, white haired sibling. possession flares in his chest at the very thought, making him plunge himself into the deepest parts of you while you quiver like a little bitch below him.

his piercings drag up and down your gummy walls, friction causing you to drool amongst the pillows that you drown in. touya’s large hand pushes down on the small of your back, shaping your body into an uncomfortable arch— you whimper but don’t complain. taking his dick like you should, accepting him like you should. his balls, oh so heavy with cum, slap against your cheeks while your juices paint his tummy from how much you leak and the lewd sounds fill the air so loud, there’s no doubt poor little shoto todoroki can hear it through the walls.

“sweetness, you’re so bad— sneaking off to let your boyfriend’s big brother make you scream. you’re just a slut for the todoroki dick...aren’t ya? you’d probably let nat in on it too...” touya slurs, drooling at the way your backside bounces with every slam of his hips into you.

“n-no-! no... ‘m not a slut...not a—!” you squeal pathetically, barely able to finish your sentence as touya shoves your face into the sheets harshly— deep chuckle reverberating in his chest as he presses it to your sweaty back.

you still yourself, taking all what he gives to you even if it means you can barely breathe. the eldest todoroki lifts a hand to knock on the thin walls separating him from his little brother; words coming out as breathless as he thrusts into you deeper, harder, faster— abusing your barely prepped hole. “ya’hear that sho, yur lil angel’s not as innocent as you think; she’d let all of us fuck her if we asked nicely...” the way he speaks about you is mean; it could make you cry but all you do in response is clamp down on the man above you and suck him in deeper, selfishly just like he’d taught you. he smirks with pride at how much your cunt lives for him, at how his little brother is getting the show of his life time— probably jerking off to the sounds of his girl getting railed but someone who isn’t him.

touya’s hips stutter and he cums inside you with a shout, thick ropes of his hot seed spraying against your walls and seeping between your puffy folds. ringed fingers find your clit, drawing circles into them until you tip over the edge and tumble into your own release, clamping down so hard that you draw blanks from your boyfriend’s older brother. the way you twitch after touya’s emptied himself inside you, letting him press down on the sweet bulge at your tummy so his cum leaks out— almost makes him want to brush the hair away from your face and kiss you, but he remains objective— treating you as proof that he will always be the superior sibling.

when he’s pulled out of you and helped you to shaky legs to leave— he watched the regret wash over your innocent features like it always does when he’s made a woman out of you. “tell my little brother i said; sharing is caring, sweetness.” touya asks of you oh-so-kindly, revelling in the way your bottom trembles and a fresh set of tears well in your bambi eyes.

what? he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to make you cry, but that would defeat the purpose if he was telling the truth.

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nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Deja Vu

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: Hyuga Hiashi does not approve of your relationship with Neji.

implied established relationship. implied that neji has plans marrying.

Word Count: 2.8k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: gotta say it started out cute but then bam angst sjdjdens i’m sorry i’m dramatic sumtyms 🤧 please let me know your thoughts 🥺

The Sharingan never forgets.

That’s among one of the few things that’s drilled into your mind as a child born in the Uchiha clan. Before you had even awakened your Sharingan, your late brother, Shishui, had already taught you this.

At a young age, you’ve always thought it was a blessing, especially to a shinobi like you. With the ability of the Sharingan to discern movements and to retain its information better than any other dojutsu, it enables you to progress faster than children your age.

Outside the shinobi life, however, it’s not really that useful, so it’s expected for you not to activate it at all. You don’t need to remember minor details of everyday life after all. But on some of your days off — on special days — although very rarely, you unconsciously activate your Sharingan when you’re with Neji.

It goes without saying that before the war, you’ve already gained quite a bit of control over the use of the Sharingan. You’re able to activate and deactivate it at will, although sometimes your emotions get the better of you and it messes your control. After the war, however, you’ve become adept at controlling both your emotions and your Sharingan, maybe even better than Sasuke.

But whenever Neji surprises you with affectionate gestures, you get so overwhelmed that you just can't control your body, and by extension, your dojutsu too.

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to stop the blood rushing to your face. You’re unable to calm the violent thumping of your heart. You’re unable to get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’re unable to prevent the Sharingan from activating. Especially on the rare occasions that he kisses the back of your hand tenderly after he walks you home, or when he kisses your lips before he leaves for a mission.

Neji isn’t good at romantic gestures, and so he keeps it to a bare minimum. But when he does these things, it always takes you by surprise.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he likes your cute reactions to his unpredictable acts. There’s always this short moment where your mind goes blank and your Sharingan manifests itself. This reassures him of your feelings for him because he knows he’s the only one who’ll be able to pull such a reaction from you. Not that he’s ever doubted you. You’ve always been so vocal about your feelings for him, after all.

On the flip side, while it embarrasses you that you can’t control your Sharingan when you’re with Neji, you like the way they activate themselves at those moments, as they’re able to help you remember the details of its aftermath — like the way Neji would always look down on the floor first before he meets your eyes, his cheeks tinted pink, and with the slightest upturn of his lips, almost as if he, himself, wasn’t expecting the onslaught of emotions that was brought about by his own actions. In mere seconds, you have all these memorized before he pulls away, and you play it over and over again in your mind until you’re branded with a new memory.

But the Sharingan is a curse as much as it is a blessing.

It’s a curse because it reminds you of the cruelty of the world. It doesn’t allow you to forget the scene of the Uchiha clan district after the massacre, even after knowing the true reason why it had to be done. It lets you remember the way you almost lost Neji from the Ten Tails’ attack during the war in his attempt to protect Naruto and Hinata.

And when Sasuke implanted Shisui’s eye to you, which he retrieved from Danzo before he annihilated him, the Sharingan lets you relive all his memories and experiences, and it paints you a picture of how unfair the world actually is, even more so to an Uchiha like you.

The unfair reality is further proven by an unexpected knock on your door a couple of weeks ago.

Hiashi. Hyuga Hiashi. The head of the Hyuga clan. Neji’s uncle.

He came to you with a deal, a proposition of sorts, but really it was just a threat in disguise as an offer.

“Leave Neji or else I’ll make sure he won’t be able to break free from his cage” is what he basically implied.

But to be precise, his words were, “The Hyuga clan is considering Neji to be the next heir, which would result in abolition of the main and branch family system altogether. Naturally, if he becomes the head of the clan, his curse seal will be removed, along with all the other branch family members’. However, there’s no telling if there’s going to be a change if he doesn’t get the position.

“You might have been keeping your relationship with him on the down-low, but the elders of the Hyuga clan know of it.

“To put it bluntly, we do not wish to be associated with the Uchiha in any way — so much that even disowning Neji has been put out there as an option, just in case — especially after what Sasuke pulled off after defeating the goddess.

“Moreover, if you were to bear a child together, there’s no telling what will happen to their kekkei genkai. It would be ideal to have him marry into the clan and follow tradition in order to preserve the Byakugan.

“I suppose you know where I’m going with this. It would be in his best interest if you call off whatever you have with him. Although this wouldn’t be a deal if there is nothing in it for you, right? Supposing Neji’s bright future is not enough for you, we are willing to arrange allowances of sorts.”

But before he could spout anything more, you cut him off by asking, “Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. But we’ll let him know soon enough.”

“Don’t. Keep it that way. I’ll handle this,” you told him, not caring if you didn’t sound respectful to a prominent figure such as himself. “I don’t need anything from your clan. All I want and need is for Neji to live a life that he deserves; a life that he was robbed off.”

Hiashi glared at you, offended by your words, but he didn't comment on it. Rather, he stared you down. His hardened expression morphing into suspicion the longer he looked at you; clearly he didn’t trust you. “How will you handle it?”

The only response he got from you is an intense stare with your Sharingan, and that alone was enough for him.

It’s frustrating to not have a choice, even when it comes to love, but in hindsight, you should’ve expected this. For all the troubles your ancestors caused in the past, it’s only natural for you to be this unfortunate.

Whatever blessing the Uchihas receive, it’s always paired with some type of misery. That’s just how it is, that’s how it would probably always be.

There’s no denying that in the end, it always, always hurts. But then again, you’re no stranger to pain and loss. And so is Neji. So surely, this would be for the best, at least that’s what you tell yourself over and over again in hopes that it will strengthen your resolve.

After all, Neji deserves a life where he doesn’t have to fear dying by the hands of the main branch family. He deserves a life where he can make choices of his own, without being tied down by his curse seal or his clan in general. And if leaving him means he’ll have all this and more, so be it.

As much as it is painful, it is hard, partly because of your waning resolve but especially because it’s Neji, who’s known for being an awfully perceptive shinobi. He’s almost never caught off guard, all the more when he’s with you, as he’s always keen on keeping you safe. Hence, you have to be meticulous and methodical.

The Sharingan’s ability to cast genjutsu is particularly harder to use against Hyugas due to their ability to see and sense the chakra concentrating by the eyes, enabling them to counter or avoid it entirely. Shisui’s Kotoamatsukami technique would’ve been quite useful, except you’re unable to use it yet because of the events prior to the war. Thus, you’ll have to rely on your own skills.

If timed right and casted properly, the genjutsu of the Sharingan has the ability to remove memories. To be precise, it can trick his mind into “forgetting” memories. But with years and years of memories between you and Neji, you know that you’ll have to cast it over and over again before everything will be completely wiped out.

You take advantage of the moments where Neji gives you affection, as you deem it the most subtle way to cast genjutsu on him without suspicion.

Although you have to admit, in the beginning you’ve been selfish, only removing memories of you and him that weren’t important — like the times he would accompany you in doing mundane tasks, or the times you both just lounge around after tiring missions. And because those are only minor memories, Neji is oblivious to the loss.

It gets exceptionally harder to cast the genjutsu once you’ve started erasing the major events in your relationship — the first date, the first kiss, the first time he held your hand, and the first time he introduced you as the love of his life. Until eventually, the affectionate acts dwindle down, and the only way you can use the Sharingan around him is when you ask him to train with you.

It’s only natural that the longer this goes on, the further you drift apart, and the more you lose him.

And it’s scary and painful because unlike Sasuke, Konoha has always been your home, but more specifically because of Neji. In fact, you can argue that Neji has always felt like home more than the village itself. You can walk the streets of Konoha but all it will ever scream is Neji’s name, and all it will ever show you is the memories you shared with him on every corner of the place.

The fact that you have to walk the streets without him is terrifying and foreign, and the only way you can avoid it altogether is by taking more and more missions, either the ones involving far away places or high rank missions that require every single bit of your concentration. Sometimes you even tag along to Sasuke’s expeditions to escape not only Neji’s overwhelming presence in the village, but also the thoughts of him.

It’s tiring and it’s heavy. But you’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to carry alone the memories for the two of you.

But this doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, though they were quick to assume that things just didn’t work out between the two of you, and that you called your relationship off.

Ino is the first person to voice out her concern and her curiosity as she claimed it’s weird not seeing you hang out with Neji anymore.

“That’s just how it is, I suppose,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant about everything despite the ache in your chest and the slight quiver of your voice.

She doesn’t comment further, thinking you probably didn’t want to talk about it.

But one day, when the whole clique — except for you and Sasuke — was hanging out, Ino can tell there was something wrong when Sakura asked if Neji remembered the time when you almost fell off a tree but he was there to catch you, and he furrowed his brows, saying he doesn’t recall that at all.

Break up or not, it’s highly unlikely for Neji to forget. Regardless of how minor something is, he always seems to remember them, especially when it involves you. And while he could’ve just been deflecting, there would’ve been no point in him denying that he remembers that occasion. Besides, Neji is blatantly honest, it’s one thing that you can count on when it comes to him, so really, how come he couldn’t remember that scenario at all?

This prompted Ino to observe Neji further out of concern and suspicion. She’d often find herself casually mentioning you and the feats you’ve both been through, but time and time again, Neji would tell her he has no recollection of those.

Ino wants to do something, anything really, just to clear her mind of suspicions, but she’s afraid she’s overstepping and interfering.

Neji takes notice of this. But even before that, he feels as though there’s something wrong, like something’s missing, but he doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

After all, genjutsu might’ve tricked his mind, but his heart is an entirely different case.

It comes as a surprise to Ino when Neji comes to visit her in Yamanaka’s flower shop, looking at your favorite flowers without a clue why.

With Ino being the only one who seems to be willing to talk about you with him, it’s her who he seeks out. That, and he thinks the Yamanaka’s mind jutsus could be of help.

Ino doesn’t hesitate to help after Neji asks for it. When she goes to explore Neji’s consciousness, the first thing that she senses is your chakra. The further she prods, the more she realizes that it’s you who have been tampering with his memories. Then she realizes that it’s genjutsu that you’ve used on him, and she quickly breaks him out of it.

You know instantly when the jutsu breaks, feeling as if there was a string that snapped, and it immediately renders you frozen.

Fear grips you as you think about how Neji would feel after his memories come back. Will he be able to tell it was you who did it? Will he be mad at you? Will you tell him the reason why you did it? Will he even listen?

But if he’d stop talking to you altogether… then that would still be a win, right? Because that’s what Hiashi wants, that’s what his clan wants. That’s the only condition for them to give back Neji’s freedom.

But is it worth it?

Is this what you want?

Is this what Neji would want?

You’d like to believe so. And that’s the last thought you have as the rogue shinobi you’re supposed to capture stabs a kunai deep into your gut.

Of all the times the genjutsu could have broken, it just had to be when you were facing a highly skilled ninja. It’s once again a reminder that life is unfair, but this time, it’s your choices that lead you to this.

Deja vu. That’s how you feel when you wake up after escaping death’s clutches once again.

You blink once, twice, and then you look around your surroundings. You’re back in Konoha’s hospital, but this time you don’t wake up to a sleeping Neji by your bed.

You’re alone, and you feel hollow.

But then the door to your room opens abruptly and you almost jump in surprise.

Your breath hitches as you find the familiar lavender eyes staring back at you.

He calls your name to you softly, as if in a trance, and you feel your heart stutter at how perfect your name sounds on his lips.

Before you know it, he’s by your side, gently holding your hands. With an untrained eye, it would seem that his face is void of any emotion, but from your years of experience with him, you can clearly point out the sadness in his eyes.

You break the silence by saying, “I’m sorry, Neji.”

“For what exactly?”

You look away in shame. “For trying to erase your memories of us.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Because…” you bite your lip. “That’s what’s best for you,” your voice cracks. “I’m not… We couldn’t— no — we shouldn’t be together.”

Neji gathers his thoughts, and it takes a couple of minutes before he speaks up. “The Sharingan may not be able to forget, but the Byakugan sees everything.”

And you understand what he’s trying to say: he can see through the lies you feed yourself.

Neji sighs, and it gets your attention. You peek at him, and only then have you noticed the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders are slightly slumped.

He has always looked composed no matter the situation, but now he’s different.

“You used to tell me everything,” he says dejectedly.

The way he says it and the way he pleads with his eyes breaks something in you and you spill everything to him.

You’re crying and stuttering and you aren’t sure if you’re making sense. But Neji always, always understands you.

And by the end of your piece, you’re wrapped securely in his arms.

“You’re alright,” he comforts you. “We’re alright.”

“But Hiashi—”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

here’s some really good ideas sent on anon for part 3!

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sokkascroptop · 3 years

Text

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 25

part 1 | part 24

A/N: she’s HERE!!! anyways, post and dip BYE

Y/N bit her bottom lip as she shook the dice around the wooden cup she was holding. She was losing–badly. Sho, a game that Aang had taught them a few days ago when Zuko had let up on their firebending training, was an Air Nomad game that the monks would play. Aang was a little confused on the rules, so they’d filled in the blanks where they needed to with their own.

And Sokka was good at it, way better than any of the rest of them. Which is probably why he’s suggested they’d start betting money.

“Just roll them!” Zuko growled from next to Y/N where he was laying on his stomach, head propped in his hands. Y/N gave him a sharp look and let the two dice fall from the cup onto the ground. Snake eyes. She’d only be able to move her pieces two spaces. Y/N let her head fall into her free hand with a resounding smack. She could hear the disappointed sighs from the rest of the gang around her. Sokka had already leeched them of their money, Y/N was their only hope, and now she was going to lose too.

Of course the money that they all had was shared amongst themselves, but it was purely the principle of the fact.

Sokka snatched the cup cleanly from Y/N’s left hand, dropping the dice into it before shaking it. Surely he couldn’t roll exactly a seven, there was no way– “Are you kidding me?!” Y/N shouted as Sokka laughed and grabbed what meager money Y/N had thrown into the pot and shoved into his now full pouch. “How did you roll a seven? How?!”

Sokka’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’ll never tell my secrets.”

Y/N pouted. “I feel like I was just swindled.” Well, at least she knew how those people in the Fire Nation felt when Toph stole all their money.

Sokka scooted closer to Y/N and threw an arm around her shoulder. She automatically leaned in. “Oh don’t be such a sore loser, I’ll buy you something nice in the next town we stop in.” He winked at her.

Butterflies fluttered in Y/N’s stomach in response. She rolled her eyes, fought off a smile and sent him a withering glare back which didn’t phase Sokka in the slightest. In fact, he looked more pleased with himself.

“Shut up, Sokka,” Toph said what everyone was thinking and Y/N felt herself giggle along with the rest of them.

“Aw, Toph we’re buds, you don’t really–”

“No, seriously! Everyone–shut up. I hear something off in the distance.” Toph stood up and turned her head so one of her ears was pointed in the direction of the canyon.

Y/N quickly pulled out of Sokka’s reach and scrambled to her bag where her sword lay, sheathed and untouched since she got back from Boiling Rock. There was a near imperceptible shake in her hands as she pulled the sheath off and dropped it to the side, adrenaline already coursing through her body. Everyone else was frozen, either staring at Toph or Y/N. Despite her asking for silence, Toph turned to Y/N. “Do you hear it too?”

Suki was standing too now. Something about the way Toph and Y/N acted had set her off too. “No,” she answered for both of them. “I don’t hear anything. Not even the birds.”

Truthfully, Y/N hadn’t even thought of that. The cave dwelling birds that lived in and around the temple were always chirping. It had become the background noise to their lives, but now it was silent.

Y/N let out a shaky breath. It was true, the stillness of the air was unnerving. It reminded her of the fights that happened in the yard at Boiling Rock. The ones where you could hear a pin drop before the brawl began, or the solitary click of boots down the halls in the middle of the night before some prisoner was pulled from their room with a piercing scream. It was the moonlight shining through the leaves in the forest that night before Kaito and his friend attacked. Too quiet was too quiet and it made her stomach roll with fear.

The first explosion rocked the very ground Y/N stood on. It felt like an earthquake, but Y/N knew better.

Three Fire Nation airships seemed to rise from the canyon itself. Over her shoulder, Y/N could hear bits of the Air Temple crumbling in on itself where the first bomb hit. In the 100 years since the Fire Nation was last here, their technology and weaponry had only gotten more advanced. The temple was old and unkept, it wouldn’t last long enough to protect them.

Aang broke away from the group and ran to his glider. With a powerful swing he was able to airbend yet another fireball heading for the roof, back in the direction it came from. It exploded next to the far left airship, sending it careening sideways, but it wasn’t enough to take it down. Another one smashed into the fountain sending stones and dust flying through the air. It stung her eyes and choked her throat. Y/N coughed and stumbled backwards, running right into someone. Hands gripped her arms, keeping her steady.

“We have to head to the back of the temple!” Sokka shouted into Y/N’s ear. It was a good thing too, another section of the roof came crashing down, much too close for comfort. She caught sight of Zuko and Katara diving to the side to avoid being crushed by the falling rocks.

Y/N nodded and the two of them ran towards the back of the temple to where Haru and Toph were bending a hole in the ground large enough to fit Appa. Suki was currently trying to help Aang wrangle Appa, who was having nothing with the thought of being pulled underground.

“Come on Appa, it’s okay!” Aang tried to reassure as he tugged on Appa’s reins. The sky bison bellowed loudly in response and dug his heels in.

Everyone else had started to make their way into the tunnel first, Chit Sang was helping Teo navigate his wheelchair over the bumpy rocks, The Duke close behind. All they had to do was get Appa to go too and they’d be safe. Well, safer than where they were now.

Sokka, Y/N and Katara joined Aang and Suki in trying to coax Appa into the tunnel. Y/N promised belly rubs and as many moonpeaches as Appa could eat if he just took a few more steps forward but he wasn’t budging.

They were really pushing it close now, with each explosion more of the temple fell away; half of the courtyard was already gone.

Y/N looked back to the ships, which looked larger than she’d ever seen before. Standing at the head of the middle ship, like it was her own personal army–which it probably was–was Azula.

And Zuko had caught sight of her too.

Y/N already knew what was going through his mind before he probably did. “Zuko! Get back here now!” she shouted.

“What are you doing?!” Aang chimed in, making a move towards stopping him.

Zuko barely even glanced back and through a pause in the explosions, Y/N could hear his voice loud and clear. “I’ll hold them off. I think this is a family visit.”

“Zuko!” Y/N and Aang both yelled simultaneously. Appa’s reins fell from Y/N’s hands and she reached back for her sword, ready to follow Zuko into battle.

But her hand paused, just as she touched the leather grip.

What was she supposed to do? Y/N had always, always been tailing after those two. Always soothing both sides after their fights, promising a better tomorrow if–

“–if you just please get along, for me.”

Y/N growled before grabbing Appa’s reins once again. She couldn’t be that person anymore. She couldn’t keep pretending that she was their nurse-maid, there to apologize for when one was mad at the other. This wasn’t about elementary school games in the palace gardens, this was a war; life and death. And as much as it hurt her to admit, Y/N might not be able to save them both.

Besides, she was sure that her presence would only cause more trouble, it always did.

“This isn’t working.” Sokka pushed his hair out of his face with frustration. “We’ve got to get out of here now.”

Aang shook his head. “Appa isn’t going to go into that tunnel!”

Appa seconded this statement with a roar.

“Aang, we can’t fly out of here!” Katara gestured wildly in front of them to the airships that were mostly blocking their only way out besides the tunnel.

A large shot of orange flames caught their attention. Even in the daylight it was blinding. Azula and Zuko were battling one another, but the airships hadn’t slowed their onslaught on the Air Temple.

“We’ll have to try.” Y/N could hear the determination in Aang’s voice but she kept her eyes on the ships, on the blue and orange flames that were dancing across the top of the centermost one.

Y/N turned her head over her shoulder. “They might not be expecting that. It’ll take a while to change their trajectory and we could slip away. If we’re fast enough.”

She locked eyes with Aang and an understanding passed between them.

“So we can’t take everyone...”

“No.”

Katara reached behind her absently in the direction of her father. “What do you mean we can’t take everyone?! We aren’t being separated again!”

“Appa can’t carry us all. We need to move fast if we have any chance of getting out of here.”

Sokka nodded in agreement. “We have to split up. They can still get away, Katara.” Sokka looked away from his sister to his father. “You can take the tunnel and get to the stolen airship.”

“No…” Katara’s voice broke and Y/N busied herself with climbing into Appa’s saddle.

“It won’t be forever,” Hakoda promised before pulling his two kids into his chest.

Y/N waved down to him sadly, as Suki and Toph piled in next to her. She sent up a silent message to whichever god or spirit that was listening to keep her new friends safe in their own escape.

“Which way?” Aang asked as he looked out to the canyon.

Y/N couched near Appa’s head and pointed directly at the airships. “Wait until there’s a break between the firebender’s hitting the temple, then go up as high as you can.”

Riding on Appa’s back on a good day made Y/N feel like she was floating; where her stomach was in her chest and her heart was in her throat and every gust of wind made her gasp.

So when Appa dove and rocked side to side avoiding the explosions aimed at him, it was safe to say Y/N was left queasy. The higher they climbed, the less fire reached them.

In a moment of clarity, where they drifted above the airships in the cloudline, Y/N was able to think about how much she hated where she was; about who she was.

As she peered over the edge of the saddle, trying to get her eyes on Azula and Zuko, she wished so badly that she would just wake up from this awful nightmare, back in her bed on Ember Island, ten years old and nothing to worry about. Before she met Azula; before her life became this.

And then she saw them. On top of the center airship, fighting one another like they were true enemies. And for once, it looked like Azula was evenly matched. The siblings simultaneously threw fire-packed punches at each other, and where they met in the middle blew up into an inferno of blue and orange flames, blowing both Azula and Zuko over the edges of the airship, plummeting to the bottom of the canyon.

Aang saw it first, diving Appa down before Y/N could even register what just happened.

“Oh my spirits. Aang?!” Y/N hung halfway out of the saddle as they dropped quickly through the smoke in the direction they last saw Zuko. Fear spiked through her body like a white hot knife. “Does anyone see them?”

Y/N was met with silence, just the wind whistling past her to fill her ears. She wasn’t sure if someone spoke up she’d be able to hear them anyways. Her nails dug into the soft leather under her hands, so deep half-moons were sure to be left behind long after she let go. Y/N stared into the clouds, dizzy and hyperventilating.

One breath in–

“There!” Sokka hollered, jumping to the edge next to her.

–and out.

It was by some divine force that Y/N was able to reach Zuko as he was falling. Even with Aang steering Appa in his direction, Y/N almost missed. It’s like she was moving in slow motion, their fingers dug into one another’s arms and the sudden weight of him pulling on her almost had Y/N tipping out of the saddle, shocking her back to reality.

The only thing that caught her was someone’s hands fisted in the back of her shirt. That was a good idea. Y/N reached around and grabbed the back collar of Zuko’s shirt, dragging him in roughly.

His hands were scorching hot from the recent firebending but he didn’t let go of her, instead his fingers tightened around her arm as the two of them stared back towards the cliffs. Their eyes were locked on the sight in front of them.

Like Zuko, Azula was falling too. But she didn’t have anyone to catch her.

Y/N hated the way she took a shaky breath in automatically. “She’s not going to make it.”

Y/N made a move towards the back edge of the saddle, as if somehow being closer meant that she could lean out and help. She wanted to look away; she didn’t want to see her best friend plummet to her death but she couldn’t turn away, she couldn’t break her eyes from the sight in front of her.

But in true Azula fashion, she persevered through all–she was just too stubborn to die yet. She firebent herself closer to the cliff face and caught herself on the rocks with her hair pin.

“She did make it.” Zuko’s voice was surprisingly full of relief.

Even from the distance, Y/N could feel the anger Azula emitted. But that wasn’t Y/N’s problem anymore, as much as she wanted it to be.

She sat down, facing away from the cliffs–away from Azula–and pulled her knees to her chest. Zuko sank down next to her, doing the same.

Momo, sensing some shift in her emotions, crawled into Y/N’s lap. She scratched absentmindedly behind his ears. She looked across her friends in wonder, all crammed together in the Appa’s saddle, in various states of shock. She wished they’d all met under better circumstances, but she was glad to have met them nonetheless. She would never be the person she was today without them. This was the life she was meant to have, even with how messed up it was.

They flew for as long as Appa could fly and then some more, needing to get the most distance between them and the Fire Nation airships as possible. They only landed, all fully exhausted, when Appa could go no farther and the sun was low in the sky.

----

Zuko and Y/N tasked themselves with setting up the tents while everyone else split off from the group and began to set up camp in a familiar daze; no words necessary.

“I get it now.” Zuko shook one of the tent canvas’ out over the grass, clearing off dust from the journey, doing everything in his power to avoid Y/N’s eyes.

She yawned as she pulled out the tent stakes and tossed them on the ground near his feet. “Get what?”

“I get, well–you now. It’s something Azula said when we were fighting.” Zuko mumbled. He began to thread the wooden supports through loops in the canvas without another word.

Y/N blinked wondering if she heard him correctly. “What did she say?”

Zuko seemed even more hesitant to speak now. Azula was a sore subject around camp before she’d just attacked them. The last thing they needed was someone to hear them talking about her. “Something about how she had to do it. The way she talked, I don’t even want to hear the garbage Father is filling her head with.”

Y/N cringed and with a pang of worry, she wondered how Ozai would take the loss of Aang once again. “You don’t think she’s too far gone, after what she did?”

Zuko chewed on his lip for a second. “She’s making it very hard to sympathize with her.”

“But?”

“No, I don’t.”

A sudden rush of hope filled Y/N. She wasn’t going to be alone in this quest for saving Azula. She and Zuko had just become allies in yet another way, and while it was never going to be easy, she would at least have a companion.

And it helped that it made Y/N feel a little less crazy about the whole thing. It was true; since her confession to the others Y/N couldn’t help but think that she might have been wrong all along. She’d rolled that thought around her brain until it became all she could think about when she was alone. With Zuko’s own admission, Y/N felt like the goal was much more attainable.

Y/N couldn’t help the grin that grew on her face. “That’s–”

“Zuko.”

Y/N’s lips zipped shut and she turned to look at Katara. She looked between the two of them with a sour expression on her face. “Sokka needs help carrying firewood. We need a lot of it, it’s going to be cold tonight.”

Y/N knew that tone of voice. It wasn’t a question of whether he wanted to go help, it was an order for Zuko to get up and leave Y/N alone.

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Zuko handed Y/N the tent stakes and jogged off in the direction they’d seen Sokka go when they’d landed.

Y/N barely caught Katara leaving, walking away just quickly as she had come. Leaving it up to Y/N to get the rest of the tent set up before dinner.

Y/N really did try and give Katara the benefit of the doubt. She’d been through a lot, and Y/N felt like she had dragged her through more by admitting that she wanted to help Azula. But it was hard to ignore some of the outright hostility she showed Zuko–and Y/N too–if she was around him.

While at one time, she had encouraged Y/N to become friends with Zuko once again, now it seemed like that was the last thing Katara wanted anymore. The flip-flopping left Y/N confused and worried. Was her newly rekindled friendship with Zuko the same thing that was dousing the friendship between her and Katara?

----

Y/N didn’t know what was making her more queasy. What had happened at dinner with Katara, or the fact that she and Sokka were currently spreading out blankets in his tent, for both of them to sleep on. It was so...private.

“What do you think was going on with Katara at dinner? She was all–I don’t know–pouty. And then Zuko? Running after her?”

Y/N sat down and crossed her legs, fixing a corner of one of the blankets until it was perfectly straight, just hoping to give her hands something to do before giving a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure.”

Zuko had shared a look with Y/N before he got up to follow Katara to the coastline, like they were in on something together. However, she was completely in the dark. Mostly. Well, Y/N was smart enough to make a guess.

Sokka cocked his head to the side and sat down across from her. “I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Maybe. I’m just guessing.”

“Then what’s your guess?”

“Katara is mad about something.”

“Well yeah, obviously,” Sokka scoffed.

“But Zuko hasn’t done anything recently for her to be mad at. So it’s either a long held grudge from Zuko’s ‘hunting the Avatar’ days, or something new is making her mad.”

“Like what?”

Y/N looked away. “I think she’s mad at me.”

“You? For what?”

Y/N leaned back on her hands, fisting them in the blankets before letting them go. “Come on, you know what.”

“I thought we all were past that?”

“Maybe she’s not.”

Suddenly the opening of the tent was pushed aside and someone came barreling in, stepping on Y/N’s left hand in the process.

“Ow!”

“Sokka, I need to–” Zuko stopped and looked down. “Sorry, Y/N…?”

His voice trailed off as his eyes bounced from Y/N to Sokka to the blankets spread neatly across the spanse of the tent, all illuminated by one single lantern on the floor.

Zuko’s cheeks grew pink. “Sorry, I didn’t know... I didn’t mean to interrupt, I–”

Y/N felt her own cheeks heat up as she realized what Zuko was implying, the flush spreading all the way down her neck. “No! You weren’t interrupting anything!!”

“It’s just the way the blankets are all–”

Sokka let out a strangled noise. “Nothing was gonna happen!!”

“Okay!” Zuko crossed his arms across his chest tightly.

“Okay,” Y/N repeated. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at her thumbnails, unable to meet either boys’ eyes. All three of them were quiet, still cringing over the embarrassment that had just happened.

Sokka cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, Zuko, you needed something?”

“Uh, yeah.” He sat down next to Y/N. “It’s about your mom.”

Y/N’s head snapped up. What she knew about Sokka and Katara’s mom was little to none. She knew that she had been killed in a Fire Nation raid when both of them were younger, but that was the extent of Y/N’s knowledge. Neither sibling liked to talk about her in detail, and Y/N didn’t pry.

“Do you want me to…?” Y/N nodded her head towards the tent flaps, unsure whether this was a private conversation. She looked between the boys, waiting for an answer.

Sokka shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” Already his brows furrowed deeply. He chewed absently on his lip before saying, “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the day she died.”

Y/N glowered at Zuko, wanting to reach out and punch him in the arm for asking about something so sensitive.

“I don’t like to think about it,” Sokka’s eyes had a far away look in them, like he wasn’t seeing Y/N and Zuko in front of him, but was imagining the way the tundra looked on the day his mother died all those years ago. “I was nine, Katara was eight. We were out playing in the snow with Mom and Dad when the ash began to fall…”

----

Sokka’s story had lasted long into the night, and overall left Y/N with more questions than answers. Of course they were questions that no one could answer for her. No one could explain what was going through that man’s head when he decided that Kya’s life was worth less than his. No one could explain the greater complexities that were behind the Fire Nation’s decimation of other cultures, not in a satisfying way that would help Y/N ever understand. Because that was that; she would never understand–the fear factor, the sense of power that came from knocking one culture aside to make way for your own. (Why would you destroy when you could cultivate and grow and learn from each other? She had learned so much about that in the past few months.)

And all of those thoughts made it hard to sleep. There were too many things going through Y/N’s head as she watched Sokka’s chest move up and down with each rhythmic breath. Furthermore, she knew that Zuko wouldn’t have asked for the story if he didn’t already have plans made for what he was going to do about it, and that did not sit well with Y/N.

----

And she was proven right, the next morning after a few hours of sleep when Katara marched up to her, Aang and Sokka asking to borrow Appa.

“Why do you need to borrow Appa?” Aang asked with a smile. It slowly faded into a frown as he looked between Katara and Zuko. “What’s going on guys?”

Katara squared her shoulders, steeling herself like she was about to get into a fight. “Zuko knows who killed my mother.”

At that moment, Y/N’s ears started ringing. She frowned at Zuko, who just shook his head and frowned back at her. She should have known that any question he asked last night had an ulterior motive. This was his brilliant plan to make Katara like him??

Without warning, Katara stole Y/N’s attention back.

“Y/N, you’ll come with me won’t you?”

The older girl looked over and caught Katara’s gaze. “Huh?”

Katara looked down at Y/N hopefully. “I don’t care if Zuko comes, but I want you to. I need you.”

Y/N blinked at her. There were a lot of things that she wanted to say but the words just seemed to tangle around her mouth. She’d open her mouth to say one thing but snap it shut immediately for something else. Finally with a quick shake of her head she blurted out, “No.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to watch you hunt someone down and kill them.” The words left a bad taste in Y/N’s mouth. They were all too familiar to her. And the mere thought of doing that…

“I need this. I can’t just forget about him now that I know he’s still out there. I can’t just let it go!”

“I wouldn’t expect you to forget it,” Y/N replied slowly as she stared at Katara’s shaking hands.

“So help me.”

“No. And if you want me to be real honest, I don’t think that either of you should be going!” Y/N sent a very pointed look to Zuko. What is this really about? She wanted to ask him. “Revenge is not going to fix how you feel, Katara.”

“How would you know?”

“I just do.”

“Well you’re wrong. This man is a monster. He deserves it.”

“But you don’t need to be the one doing it.”

“Katara,” Y/N doesn’t have to look at Aang to know he’s sad. It comes through in his voice, clear like bells. “I understand how you–”

“Stop.” Katara’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “If you’re going to tell me not to go then you don’t understand either.”

“I do understand! How do you think I felt when the sandbenders took Appa, or when I woke up and found out what happened to my people?! Doing this out of revenge is not right and you know it.” Aang was standing now, a divot punctuating between his eyebrows as he frowned at Katara.

“You’re both wrong,” Zuko murmured. He was so quiet during the whole exchange, Y/N nearly forgot he was there. “This is about closure and justice.”

“Katara, please,” Sokka spoke up from behind Y/N. He too had stayed quiet for most of the conversation. Y/N wondered if he had an idea that this was going to happen after Zuko came to talk to him too. “She was my mother too, but this isn’t right.”

“Then you didn’t love her like I did.” It felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed over Y/N’s body. She jerked at Katara’s words, even though they weren't aimed at her. In one foul swoop Y/N wanted to scream at Katara for saying something so hurtful to her brother and simultaneously pledge to do everything in her power to make the man who killed their mother pay for his crimes. However, Y/N didn’t have time to do either, because while she was still thinking of which was the better option, Katara spun around on her heel and stomped away, not unlike a child having a tantrum.

----

Y/N huddled between Sokka and Aang behind one of the large rocks surrounding their camp, watching as Katara and Zuko, dressed in black, loaded Appa with supplies. Her mind drifted to how cozy Toph and Suki probably were as they slept peacefully around the campfire. The wind bit through her clothes and Y/N shivered involuntarily. She knew that the point of staying up, waiting for Katara and Zuko to sneak away, was to once again try and convince Katara that this wasn’t the right thing to do. Aang thought that confronting them again would somehow bring Katara to her senses, except–this was Katara acting with her senses. As angry as she could get, she never forgot to plan, she wasn’t acting on a whim anymore.

Y/N didn’t know if she could say anything to convince Katara to stay that Aang and Sokka hadn’t already tried; Katara had shown her hand already and her mind was hard to change once it was set on something.

The three of them stepped out, just as Zuko and Katara were leaving. Y/N made a beeline to Katara.

“Please, Katara, listen to me.” Y/N kept her voice low, quiet enough that it was just for the two of them, and tugged on the girl’s sleeve childishly.

“No.” Katara didn’t have the same idea, her voice was strong and clear and it rang out loudly. Despite this, she still stopped and let Y/N reach to grip her wrist. She could feel Katara’s rapid pulse through her sweater.

Y/N shivered and crossed her arms across her chest, as if it would hide the gaping wound in between her ribs. The hurt that came from watching her friend choose the wrong path. It was a familiar pain.

“You told me once that you can’t just wish feelings away. You think by killing him it’s going to make things right. It won’t. You’ll feel better for a moment; a fraction of a second while his life is in your hands and then you’re going to regret it. The moment will pass and you’ll see what you’ve done. You’re strong but that’s not the kind of person you are, nor the kind of person you’ll ever be.

“Maybe that’s just you.”

The words stung. It wasn’t even meant to be a particularly hateful comment but Y/N couldn’t help but feel hurt over it.

She felt numb as she watched Katara climb onto Appa and fly away into the dark.

----

Something about the dark of camp and the unsettling feeling of having their group suddenly minus three made it hard for Y/N to find sleep. And when she did, it wasn’t peaceful. It had been a long time since Y/N had had a nightmare so realistic. She could still feel blood on her hands–

She sat straight up out of her sleep, kicking at the blankets that were tangled in a sweaty mess around her legs.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust as she looked around. Sokka’s tent was much darker than it was when they slept outside, the canvas blocking out the natural light from the moon and stars and a dying campfire–and it was warmer too–under all those blankets.

Then, Y/N realized a majority of the heat was radiating from Sokka next to her. His arm was still around her, knocked from her waist to the tops of her thighs when she sat up.

He was sleeping on his stomach, his face buried in his pillow–with one half open eye staring at her. “Lay down, is’okay.” He patted her leg with his hand and rolled to his side, both of his eyes closed now.

Y/N did lay down, even though her heart was pounding and everything within her told her she needed to run, to do something instead of staying here like a sitting duck.

She clutched her hands in fists, focusing on her breathing, which was still shaky. She stayed rigid, flat on her back–the easiest position to get up and defend from.

Despite this, Sokka snuggled closer, pressing his nose into her shoulder and wrapping his arm back to where it was across her waist, his hand splaying out across Y/N’s stomach comfortingly. Her shirt had shifted in the night, and his pinky brushed bare skin, leaving Y/N the feeling of butterflies, though she didn’t really mind.

She was falling asleep now, her tiredness overwhelming her sense of danger, and through that haze she could feel Sokka’s hand move, pulling her shirt further down and covering the bare skin he was once touching. And back was the warmth of his hand, resting protectively over her abdomen.

----

It had been Sokka’s idea to go out and have a picnic. Only after days of moping between the two of them did he come up with the thought. Though, it might have been spurred by the constant bickering between Y/N and Toph, usually only stopped by Katara’s sharp tongue. What usually started out by harmless banter ended with Y/N half-covered in mud and Toph dangerously close to what Y/N called an “impromptu haircut”.

It would have been a nice time for relaxation for both of them had they not been so worried for Zuko and Katara who were off Agni knows where, doing Agni knows what. Neither of them meant to, but their minds were in different places instead of here with one another. It had already been a few days since they had left, and their absence was being felt by everyone at camp.

Y/N dragged her hand through the cool grass and watched Sokka for a minute; wanting to lengthen their time out here, away from the chaos of their lives. She followed his gaze down to the town–their perch on the highest hill around had been strategic, but it provided a nice view too. Y/N noticed that Sokka wasn’t really looking at the houses and stores below, more like looking through them. He was off in his own world, worrying at the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

She didn’t always get the chance to stare so candidly at him while he was distracted. His hair had gotten longer on the sides but he never made any notion to shave it back down. Y/N kind of liked the scruffy look. Her gaze followed down his cheekbone to his eyes–which were still trained straight ahead. As he blinked, Y/N wrinkled her nose in jealousy; there was no need for him to have eyelashes so long and thick.

He could have been thinking about anything, a new invention, the slightly muggy air, the sour fruit—but if the pout on his lip was indication, Y/N knew what was on his mind.

She popped a quartered persimmon in her mouth before speaking. “Maybe we should try this again another day.”

Sokka grunted and didn’t look back. Y/N chuckled and pulled up a piece of grass, tickling Sokka’s cheek with it. “Did you hear me?”

He jumped and looked back at her guiltily. “Sorry, what?”

“We should try to have a picnic again on a different day,” Y/N smiled softly.

“That sounds like a good plan.”

On their way back to camp, they walked close, bumping shoulders every time their steps unsynced. They hadn’t strayed too far; their camp was just half a mile down the hill and to the coastline, but it was far enough so that they could be alone.

Y/N was happy to see that Sokka’s mood had changed for the better since moving off the hill. She reached down and linked her pinky with his. It was much too hot to be holding sweaty hands.

“Tell me–” Sokka started.

“Hmm?”

“–what happened back there at the temple? If you want...” Sokka quickly added, holding his free hand up to show he meant no harm.

Y/N had to think back, even though it was only a few days beforehand it seemed so distant in her memory. Maybe even a little hazy, like she wasn’t really present when she had done it. That might have been more than just an explanation, she barely remembered jumping up from the ground, just one minute she was sitting next to Sokka and the next she was holding her sword ready to fight. Y/N couldn’t recreate the exact feelings she was having either, but it made her fists clench involuntarily, like she was trying to push away whatever it would bring.

Finally after a moment of silence, she spoke, but it didn’t offer much of an answer to what Sokka was asking. “I don’t know. I just had a really bad feeling, is all. I heard Toph say that and I just acted.” Y/N chewed on her lip and shivered despite the sweltering heat. She felt worn out like her body had just had a massive adrenaline rush and she was fading now.

Sokka noticed this. “You didn’t have to tell me if thinking about it bothers you.”

Y/N looked at him and then snorted through her nose. “You asked me to be more open with my feelings.”

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled slightly. “Yeah, but not if it distresses you. I just wanted you to know I’d be there for you.”

“It doesn’t distress me...that much.” she added when Sokka gave her a very pointed look. He didn’t say anything but he clearly didn’t believe her.

“So I’m a little bit on edge, that’s not a bad thing!” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“It is when you aren’t getting sleep.”

“I am getting just enough sleep to keep me going.”

“I’m not saying we need to be enjoying our life on the run, but you could act like you aren’t waiting for imminent danger every second of every day.”

“If I didn’t, then who would?” Y/N grumbled.

“We all protect one another.”

“Yeah..”

Sokka hummed and cocked his head, a wistful smile flitting across his face. “Sounds like you don’t really believe me.”

“I just… anytime we have time to breathe is when something bad happens. I am just anticipating it before it comes so it doesn’t catch me off guard. I’m doing that for all of us.”

“That is no way to live.”

“This—” Y/N gestured around herself wildly. “—is no way to live.”

“I know.”

“And Katara, don’t even get me started on that mess. I can’t protect her when she leaves.”

Sokka shook his head. “Katara doesn’t need protection.”

“Well obviously I know that. Neither do you or Zuko or anyone else, but it still makes me feel better if I was standing next to you if someone came after us.”

“You don’t...have to be self-sacrificing.”

Y/N bit her tongue to keep herself from replying. What would she say to him anyways? Maybe Y/N’s actions were more see-through than she thought.

It was disappointing to hear, probably just as much as it was for Sokka to say it. She didn’t think of herself like that, but that’s how she felt wasn’t it? Like her life meant a little bit less than everyone else’s because of her past crimes? That if she had it her way she’d do everything and anything in her power to make sure that no one else suffered, even at her own expense?

Protection. It felt like that was all she was good for. She wasn’t a planner, or a bender, or a leader, but she was tough and Y/N liked to think she was more than capable. A fighter was what she had to be, because there were no other slots that needed to be filled; she would just have to make her own.

Y/N was tired. And it was more than just physically. Sokka had been correct in saying that she hadn’t been getting enough sleep but it wasn’t like she could force herself to sleep when her brain never stopped screaming, Danger!

It was a relief to see a familiar shaggy beast at camp. It drew the conversation away from things she really didn’t feel like discussing.

“Look, they’re back.” Y/N nodded her head at Appa, who was munching on hay and receiving loving chin scratches from Aang.

Appa gave a lowly bellow when he saw Y/N and Sokka approaching, which called Aang’s attention to them.

Y/N was surprised to see a happy grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

“Hey, buddy,” Sokka murmured as he patted Appa’s snout.

Aang walked around Sokka and nudged Y/N’s elbow. “Katara is down by the water. You should go see her!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Sure.” She passed over the basket full of fruit and pastries that she and Sokka didn’t finish. “Go ahead and pass them out to everyone, yeah?”

As she passed by Sokka he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, which she returned with a grateful smile.

----

Y/N found Katara sitting at the end of the boat dock, swinging her feet just inches above the water line. The wooden slats below her creaked with each step she took. She stood behind Katara, waiting for the other girl to acknowledge her presence.

“I didn’t realize that I was mad at you until you didn’t want to come with me.” Katara turned around and smiled sheepishly at Y/N.

“Can I sit next to you?”

Katara patted the wood next to her and stared back out to the water.

“I’m sorry for treating you so badly.”

Y/N nodded numbly. “It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t.”

“We’ve all said mean things to one another,” Y/N said with a shrug. “While you were gone I told Toph I’d cut off her feet if she tried to stick them in my lap again.”

Katara chuckled. “Seems like I missed a lot.”

Their talk faded into silence as they listened to the waves lap against the shoreline.

“I was worried you’d leave again.”

Y/N blinked at Katara. What did she just say?

Katara seemed to sense Y/N’s confusion and continued. “Whenever I saw you with Zuko, always whispering to yourselves like you were keeping secrets, I thought you two were going to leave us.”

“We would never do that,” Y/N said, incredulously.

“I know that now,” Katara looked away with a shy smile. “I might have interrogated Zuko about it to find that out though. I didn’t want you to become lost again.”

“Lost?”

Katara paused, weighing her words. “We’re the same. You let your heart rule your head. All logical reason leaves you when you want something done. So I know when you need someone to watch out for you.”

And for the first time ever, Y/N felt fire in her chest. This is how Firebenders must feel all the time, Y/N thought.

That fierce loyalty and protectiveness that Katara waved in the face of adversity, that was for Y/N too. Not that it was ever doubted, but now Y/N could see it; feel it. What Sokka said was true, they all looked after each other.

But Katara wasn’t even looking at the tears shining in Y/N’s eyes. “That’s all you were doing for me too.

Besides, it wasn’t all I blamed him for either. He was just the easiest target. And forgiving him; it was easier than I thought it would be. Once I realized that I was blaming him, and maybe you, for something you didn’t do.”

“Well,” Y/N kicked her legs. “I did do something. And you have every right to be mad over it.”

“But now I know why.”

Y/N gave her a quizzical look.

Katara picked at her wrist wraps, unwinding and winding them back as she thought of the right words to say. “My journey taught me some things along the way. Before.. I didn’t know what it was like to love someone so much that all reason leaves you. I can never understand why you did it, that’s between you and Azula. But I can empathize with you now.”

Y/N didn’t have the vocabulary to respond to that. She realized that’s all she needed from her friends. She didn’t need unconditional acceptance for her past mistakes, she just needed to know that they could still love her despite them. She couldn’t expect them to understand what Y/N couldn’t even understand.

“I didn’t do anything, so you know,” Katara muttered.

Y/N nodded, she could have guessed as much but she knew it was important for Katara to tell her that.

“I wanted to, so badly.” Katara’s cheeks flushed with what Y/N knew was embarrassment. “It would have been so easy, but... I couldn’t. You were right, I would have regretted it and resented myself for it. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N didn’t respond to that last part. She’d always suspected that Katara knew more than she’d led Y/N to believe. They probably all did.

“So many things happened while you were gone. You’ll have to tell me about them,” Y/N squared herself around to look Katara in the eyes. “When you’re ready.”

Katara held her gaze, “You can too.”

“I might take you up on that.” And Y/N was sure she would. Some day.

----

A/N: you guys should like,,, come in my ask box and tell me what you like about this because i’m feeling very self-conscious about my writing since it’s been so long.

taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @creation-magician @lunariasilver @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @solarsuki @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb @celia-not-cecilia @treestarrrrrrrr @izzieserra @salsasadd @nataliahaslosthershit @awkwardnesshabitat @lanie103 @im-the-galactic-starfish @charlotteisabella @alienmotel @smarshere @sugamonster22 @calumsfringe @whatsuphoesandbros @i-love-superhero @justasukisimp @grouchiest-hufflepuff @feverish-dove @catchingrhythm @euphoricmads @ivetoldamillionlies @fanficsformyperusal @mikxyu @someonekeepstakingmyusernames @earthtokace @justamessandahalf @perfectlyfadingmusic @atlafanforlife @iris-suoh @chilifrylizard2 @cheese-its-and-lies @writequickly-blog @living-on-kyoshi @brightcosmos @someoneovertherainboww @stale-sandcastle @justarandomhoman @itsametaphorbriansblog @llamaly @moon-spirit-yue @moistpotatobear @missmorosis @sunflowerr-mami @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @september-ctd @pumpkinbowl14 @yoyokzzz @peterparkour15 @mrskinneyposts @lizziel1410 @spacelesbianfanclub

tags that don’t work: @rockinearthbending-marauders @milk-n-cheese @mellisophilia @samsmultifandomblogs @zukostan221 @eyelash-curler @certifiedfreak7 @smolbitch2006 @maruchan77 @ohjustlookalive @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @sendnuwudes @humbleseame @velveteencurls @oddment-nitwit-blubber-tweak @crxsshatcht @starxtt @ask-kfc-siblings @zuko-and-sokkas-simp @naanlianid @simpingforafictionalcharacter @jasminedrgon @la3divine @maruchan77 @emogril @bison-whistle @p—e—a—c—h—e—s @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @natsbelova

#atla #sokka x reader #sokka x female reader #atla fics #sokka x y/n #sokka fics #katara #the gaang #aang #zuko #toph #azula #ty lee #mai #suki #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar resurgence #avatar fic

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

hi nat!! i noticed requests were open and remembered “randomlyncrying during/after sex” angst being mentioned and i just👀😳🙏

ive had personal experience with that (mostly bc being vulnerable and intimate is scary yet cathartic for me, its not even necessarily sad crying or happy crying its just Strong Emotions) and i was wondering if u could do some like smut to hurt/comfort kinda with that specific scenario please🤭 maybe with risotto or abba bc i just want to be fucked AND comforted by a big strong goth man!!😩🙏

overwhelming - risotto x reader (2k)

warnings: crying during sex. afab reader. neutral pronouns.

Everything about Risotto is overwhelming. The way he looks at you; the colours of his eyes. The low, gravel voice – the way he speaks only when he thinks he has something worth hearing. The touch of his hot, large hands on your skin – his width, his height, the knowledge of what he could do to you--

It’s even more overwhelming when you are beneath him in bed.

His body caging yours; the scarred, muscled chest and how it seems to heave in and out as he breathes. The scent of him – leather and iron and smoke – wrapping all around you, until he is everywhere. In your nose, in your mouth, his face flashing across your head as you pull him down into another kiss and he worries at your bottom lip, insistent and hot and needy.

Big hands run all over your form; taking his time to enjoy the way you feel, the curves and divots of your figure, the softness of you beneath his own calloused, work-weary hands. You feel like you fit into his grip perfectly – like you were made for him. You inhale sharply as his hands spread your legs apart, exposing the heated, slick valley of your sex to the warm air of the bedroom.

It always seems to be warm when Risotto is around. He kicks out heat merely by existing; and you cling to him in bed for it, grateful to be reminded of his presence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he dips his head to murmur, his voice deep and dark. Whenever he speaks, you feel a rush of desire go through you to pool at the apex of your thighs; there is something about the sonorous bass of his voice that makes your toes curl and that echoes through you, making you feel as though you are the only person in the world. “Look at yourself, tesoro.”

You do not see what he sees – but you do see the worship in his eyes. The hunger as he presses your legs further apart and leans into you, as you feel his hard cock press against your thigh insistently.

He is a careful man, despite his profession, and he knows that what he has between his thighs is too much for many people. He never sheaths himself inside of you straight away; even now, when you are fair pooling slick on his already messy sheets, one of his big hands is cupping your mound.

Calloused thumb rubbing over your clit, coaxing heat and sighs and little rocks of your hips. One large, lone finger – sliding inside of you, rubbing against your walls with the practise of a man who knows your body as intimately as he knows his own. Your head rolls back and you display your neck for him; vulnerable, and needy, and utterly his. He does not leave your neck unmarked – his lips are on you in moments, sucking love-bites, nipping bruises, his finger still pumping in and out of you.

Two fingers. You tangle your own grip into his silvery pale hair and pull his mouth to yours so that you may kiss him – he tastes like iron, always. You do not find it unpleasant; blood is a taste that you have grown to appreciate, because it reminds you of him. Three fingers, and you hear the wet squelch of your arousal, feel it dripping out of you with every rock of his hand. His thumb has stopped teasing your clit, but the rough heel of his hand is now continuing the onslaught of pleasure. With every thrust, it rubs against the swollen bud, and you feel your stomach begin to tie itself in knots.

He pulls them out of you with a slick gush, the hand formerly buried inside of you coming to lift your leg so he can slot his hips in between you. His fingers are dripping wet, but he has eyes for nothing but you beneath him. Rose-red irises meet your own, as if to ask you; ‘is this alright? Do you need me to stop?’

For an assassin – for a man feared around Italy, though they do not know his name – Risotto is never anything but gentlemanly with you. He asks your permission, holds you afterwards, kisses you and soothes you and murmurs your name filled with affection even when you are around the other members of your team.

“Special treatment,” some of them huff, rolling their eyes – but they shoot you sly smirks. They do not begrudge their capo his happiness – not in such a business as theirs.

“Risotto,” you breathe, looking up at him. “Please—”

The please is enough. Your other leg is lifted gently, hitched up so he can press your knees to your chest. You’ve had to experiment with positions plenty, in order to find things that are comfortable with Risotto’s height and his size and your own limitations – but this one always makes him seem to hit you deeper, further. His cock head pushes against the tight ring of your entrance, catching on you--

And his eyes meet yours as he begins to press himself inside of you. There is so much tenderness contained within them that you are almost lost for words. You would not think that eyes like that could make you feel so utterly adored – when you had first met Risotto, they had filled you with fear. Now, though, you look at them and you see all of the things that Risotto is too afraid to say out loud, contained within their multitudes.

He’s slow as he hilts himself, letting you feel the stretch of your walls around him. He’s always slow with you – like he’s afraid you will break. People who see him out and about, you know, never imagine how careful or tender he is.

Your head tips back again, into the pillow, as you see stars. He always fills you up. It’s indescribable, how right that he feels inside of you. You feel like he was made to slot inside of you – every time this happens, you don’t feel quite right until his heavy balls slap against your sex and he has bottomed out, filled you up, and the two of you are as connected as it is possible for two human beings to be.

Your breath catches as he pulls out, as he seeks to find a rhythm that works for both of you. In this position, you cannot quite get purchase on his shoulders – but Risotto sees to that himself, his big hands entangling and entwining with your fingers to press your held hands either side of your head.

The position is intimate, his eyes staying glued to yours even as he slips into a rhythm. His face is softer than you usually see it as he looks down at you; his sculpted lips tilted at the corners in a way that makes your breath feel like it doesn’t fit properly in your lungs.

You adore him so much.

Everything about him makes you feel like you are free-falling through a summer sky. You are, you’re sure, not supposed to be so deliriously happy with anybody, when you’re in a career such as your own. You should not be allowed to love him so freely and deeply – but the world has said you are. The world has dropped Risotto Nero into your lap in all of his occasionally awkward, stoic, handsome glory.

His hips flex in and out. He slides easily, through the slick glide of your sex – stoking up hunger and need, the tight little ball of tension inside of you that signifies your release. You hear the sound of him fucking you, the slap of him bottoming out, and you lose yourself entirely in the sensation of Risotto filling you up.

The world seems to fade into nothing but the place where the two of you are joined; nothing else important, aside from Risotto inside of and above you, his breath unsteady in his chest. The heat that’s gathering low in your belly, as he chases your release along with his own--

After his earlier ministrations, it’s no wonder that yours creeps up on you faster. Your ball of tension is the first one to take too much pressure, to be unable to do anything but explode into pieces – and it does so in a great rush that has you wailing, your mouth opening, as your mind seems to blank out into nothingness at the same time as every feeling in the entire world seems to hit you all in one go.

You’re crying?

You’re sobbing.

Your shoulders are shaking, your lip wobbling, your throat so dry that you can barely gasp air as it feels as though every emotion that you have ever experienced seems to come around to visit you again, the feeling entirely overwhelming. You can’t think. You can’t breathe--

Risotto’s eyes are wide and full of concern, blood and ink gone to uneasiness that this is all his fault. Your eyes are blurry with tears, but you see him open his mouth to speak nonetheless.

“Hey, hey--” his voice is quiet, through the haze of your tears, his hips stilling inside of you. “Tesoro, amore, cara mia--”

The pet names just make your bubbling sob get worse; your breath short. You don’t know what it is! You’re not upset, you’re not angry, you’re not even so happy that you can’t help yourself.

You’re just feeling so, so, so much.

“Risotto,” you breathe out, hiccuping, and your legs are gently dropped from your chest. “Risotto, I’m--”

“Please tell me if something’s wrong,” he murmurs, low and dark. “I’ll stop, I’ll do anything--”

“N-no,” you shake your head, aware that he is still buried inside of you – that your tears are stopping him reaching his full completion. “I-it’s not that—”

He pulls out, carefully, and you miss the feel of him inside of you like a physical ache, even though he is still on top of you. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, chasing the tears away. A half-laugh bubbles up through the heaving of your chest and the tears clogging up your throat.

“Please tell me,” he repeats, again, all concern. His hands are still entangled with yours, as he leans down and puts his face very close to yours. If you stretched forward, just a little, you could rub your noses together, and the thought makes you smile despite yourself and despite the tear-tracks still drying on your face. “Amore, I promise I won’t be angry at you--”

“It’s just-- s-so much--” You say, eventually – lost for words, because how does one explain quite why they started crying with no real reason to? It had simply felt like everything had washed over you in one go, and your heart had not been able to handle it. Something about your orgasm had pushed forth all of your feelings, whether good or bad, and they had scrambled inside of your chest until all you could do was let tears roll down your face.

“I’m here,” he says, soft and slow. He lets go of your hands. Large arms wrap around you, pulling you up so you’re pressed against the broad expanse of your chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s so warm. Your cheek rests against him; hard muscle and scar tissue. You can hear the beating of his heart, and in the end it’s that – steady, constant, true – that makes the tears finally stop leaking down your face. Your breath calms.

A big hand comes up to stroke through your hair, reassuring.

“I’m always here for you,” he says. “Forever. Through anything.”

“I love you,” you say, all in a rush. You two avoid it; it’s hard to deal with constants when you’re in a business like Passione. ‘I love you’ is not in the vernacular of an assassin – but neither is ‘forever’, and Risotto had said it to you as casually as breathing--

“I love you too,” Risotto says. His voice does not quaver. He is certain and sure; as strong as the arms around you, the chest you’re pressed to, as strong as his convictions always are. He means it.

And you are so, so very glad that he does.

#writing #risotto x reader #risotto nero x reader #jjba #not sfw #afab reader #neutral pronouns #risotto nero #Anonymous

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adorethedistance · 4 years

Text

City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

Text

It’s Not About Dibs

Ron Speirs x Reader

Oh HELL yes! This is for you @teenmagazines, hope you’re ready for a doozy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Talbert was a smooth son of a bitch, you had to give him that much.

You knew he was a flirt, had known it from the moment you’d met him back in Georgia. Being a nurse meant you were accustomed to feeling the lingering looks of the men you helped, it came with the territory, really. It only made sense- these men saw so few women during these years of vigorous training that the first flash of skirt was bound to catch their attention. It was natural, understandable.

But Floyd? Floyd was absolutely shameless when it came to flirting with you. Where the traumas of war had numbed any sense of charm in most of the men who had initially tried to pursue you, Tab seemed to only grow more determined, bolder in his flirtatious quips.

Normally, you laughed and brushed it off- flirting back for fun before the two of you would inevitably be called back to your positions. It hadn’t ever gone too far, the both of you having some unspoken understanding that it was all done in good fun and that nothing was probably ever going to happen.

Tonight, however, was a different story entirely.

Part of the reason you’d never truly given Floyd a second thought was due to the fact that it was common knowledge that Talbert would flirt with anything with a vagina and a smile, but if you were being completely honest with yourself- you knew it had more to do with your complicated infatuation with a certain Captain from Dog Company.

Ron Speirs was a….problem for you, to say the least.

He was brooding and intimidating and sharp-tongued, yes- but he was also one of the most distractingly handsome men you had ever met. And the bastard knew it, too.

From the moment Meehan had asked him to further your education in hand to hand combat, Ron Speirs had made it clear that he knew exactly how distracting he could be. Between the smug smirks he’d shoot your way and the borderline lewd take-down positions he’d work the two of you into, Ron always made sure to whisper corrections to the shell of your ear in such a way that your breath would catch almost painfully in your throat.

“Can’t leave your side open like that, pretty girl.”

“You’re gonna have to use your hips to twist out of this one.”

“You gonna get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you squirm like that, darlin’.”

It pissed you off, it turned you on.

Under his tutelage, you’d excelled- learning how to break away from an attacker and how to strike to kill and how to use someone’s momentum against them. His praise made you preen and you’d be lying if you said that pinning him underneath didn’t you gave you some sort of proud rush.

A strange, heady familiarity had formed- one that never really went anywhere but still seemed to connect you to each other like an electric current.

After dropping into Normandy, however, his strange charm had turned into a nearly cruel protectiveness.

More often than not you found yourself being pushed aside and dragged away from the men you were trying to treat, overlooked when it came to picking which nurses were to take rotations on the frontlines. The few times you managed to actually get out there and do your fucking job, Ron was hovering so tensely behind you that you found yourself making mistakes or tripping over yourself. And, worst of all, he didn’t even seem to acknowledge you as a woman anymore.

If anything, you were just another mouth to feed.

Another face he had to deal with.

The only time any of that had wavered was in the forests around Foy, when he’d had no say in the fact that you were to be Dog Company's medic.

The fail of firepower and shattering trees was nothing short of spectacular- a symphony of destruction that scared you as much as if amazed you. Never before had you felt the earth around you quake and rattle with such violent power that you truly believed it could crack open and swallow you whole.

And through the entirety of it, Ron Speirs had been there- shielding you from the onslaught of falling shards of timber and shrapnel with every inch of his body, holding your helmet onto your head as he used his body to shelter you from the destruction happening just above your heads.

Any and all of your screams were encouraged into the meat of his chest as he held you so close you wondered if the two of you might fuse together, his grip on you refusing to let you respond to the desperate cries of “medic” until he was absolutely sure that the onslaught had ceased for the time being.

He’d kissed you for the first time during one of these barrages, when you hadn’t screamed at all and simply clung to him as if you feared he’d be torn away from you if you didn’t. Ron had shouted your name through the chaos, and when you’d turned your head to look at him he’d crushed his lips against yours with the same anxious desperation you’d been holding him with- kissing you until your head swam and all you could hear and see and taste and feel was him, him him.

Your lips had been swollen by the time it all became quiet again, your body feeling warmer than it had in weeks and panting up at him like an idiot.

When the scream for a medic rang out, he’d hungrily kissed you once more before sitting back enough to allow you to leave the foxhole, his eyes wild as he nodded for you to go.

“Be careful,” he’d commanded, chest heaving as he looked at you. “Come back when you’re done.”

That had been nearly two weeks ago, and when you had come back he’d acted as if nothing had happened. The next day, when word of relief medics had reached the encampment, he’d sent you away again.

You should’ve known nothing would change, but it still stung.

Which brought you back to Floyd Talbert.

A group of you were sitting around a table while some of the other men played cards nearby, a bottle of some gold liquid being passed around to anyone who wanted some.

Tab, lubed up and feeling confident, was whispering some sweet thing into your ear that you were just tipsy enough to blush at- something about how ‘unfair it was that’ you were so ‘beautiful and smart’ and how sad it was that he hadn’t had the chance to ‘do anything about it’.

“I’m serious, Y/N, it’s goddamn heartbreaking, knowing you’re right here and no one is making you feel as good as you deserve to feel-”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling to the side so you can squint critically at him.

“And how good do I deserve to feel, Floyd? Hm?”

His smile was pure sex, and when he wet his lips with this tongue you couldn’t help but watch with heavy-lidded eyes.

His hand is warm on your thigh, and when he brings his forehead to rest against yours you can taste the alcohol on his breath.

“Oh, Babygirl- there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what I wanna do to you…”

The finger he drags along the seam of your pants between your legs had you inhaling sharply, heat rising to your cheeks as you somehow manage not to jump at the contact.

God, when was the last time anyone had touched you there…?

In your mind’s eye, you get a flash of memory, remembering the time Ron had shown you how to wrestle your thighs around a man’s neck and pin him down.

He’d looked so proud when you’d finally managed to do it, patting your thigh with a mumble of “that’s it, good job”

Just as your lips part to reply, a hand grabs heavily at your shoulder and you’re being pulled up from your seat bodily, snapping out of your carnal daze like you’ve been splashed with a bucket of cold water.

It takes you a moment to realize that Ron is the owner of that hand, and is currently fisting Floyd’s jacket and all but throwing him to the ground.

“Ron!”

You barely hear yourself shout his name over the sound of everyone else in the room shooting to their feet and rushing over, no one stopping the Captain but no one silently watching either.

A wave of protests and cries to take it easy floods the room, and only you are close enough to hear Ron’s venomous accusations being grit out through his teeth.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind, boy? Is this how you engage with a fellow soldier? Getting them drunk and copping a feel, huh?”

Floyd, to his credit, says nothing as Ron hovers over him face blank and hands raised submissively at his sides. What he probably shouldn’t have done, however, was let a smirk curl the corners of his full lips and shoot a wink your way.

Ron all but snarls at that, roughly letting the man go before standing up straight and turning on you.

“Let’s go,” he snaps icily. “You’re done for the night.”

You protest, backing away from him about two steps before he grabs you by the arm and is hauling you through the throng that had assembled around him and Tab and marching towards the door.

“Jesus, Ron! What’s your problem?”

He ignores you, storming the both of you out of the building you had previously been in, across the street, and pulling you behind him into the house he had usurped from a family earlier in the day.

“Ron, you’re hurting my arm, stop it!”

The grip on your bicep softens instantly, his fingers wrapping around your sleeve and dragging you by the fabric instead.

By the time you manage to shake him off, he’s already let you go, having brought the two of you into a room that must have belonged to one of the children who’d been temporarily displaced.

You stumble a few steps before catching your footing, anger flooding your veins with a rage you hadn’t felt in quite a while.

You gape at his back as he closes the door behind him, one of his hands coming up to smooth his dark hair back into place. He’s breathing hard but so are you, and when he doesn’t turn back around to look at you you decide to take matters into your own hands.

He does seem surprised when you grab his arm and yank him around to face you, his piercing eyes going wide for just a moment before becoming cold once again.

“What in the absolute fuck is your problem?!” you screech, smacking his hand when it begins to rise and reach for you. “No, NO! Don’t fucking touch me! What the fuck? What’s the matter with you?”

His glare does nothing to intimidate you, if anything it fuels your anger.

Poking his chest with a hard jab of your finger, you step into him and let him have it.

“You have no right to manhandle me like that, you hear me? You had no right to spoil everyone’s night like that—”

“I’m your commanding officer, Y/L/N,” he spat quietly, batting your hand away with all the attention he would give a pestering fly. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do—!”

“Eugene Roe and Spina are my fucking superiors, Speirs- I’m not one of your soldiers and you don’t get to pick and chose to torment me when you feel like flexing your authority! Not with me, not with any of the medics! Only Winters can do that and you know that—!”

The look he gives you is nothing less than a blaring warning, his jaw ticking with rage.

“Get out of my face, Nurse. You forget who you’re talking to—”

You smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind my face being this close to yours a couple of weeks ago, or was that another power trip on your part?”

“Y/N, I’m warning you—”

“Why? What are you going to do? Send me away again? Get all high and mighty just because Floyd has the balls to like me and fucking do something about it and you don’t?”

His hands snap out and roughly grab your face before smashing his lips to yours so hard your teeth clink together, the kiss cruel and overpowering and so goddamn hot it nearly makes your toes curl.

Your hands shove at him, anger and lust and hurt and sadness all hitting you at once and making your head spin.

“Ron, Ron! HEY!”

You’re able to turn your face from the kiss enough to bark at him, moving to step away only to realize he’s walked you back so you hit a wall softly. Your hands are still fisted in his shirt and his hands have moved from your face to your arms and for a few moments the two of you just stand there gasping for air and openly glaring at each other.

When you finally collect yourself enough to steady your breathing, you let your head fall back against the wall with a dull thud, wetting your lips a few times before you feel like you can actually speak.

“That’s….this isn’t fair. You don’t get to do shit like that—”

“Like what?” he interrupts, taking a step closer to you and hissing when you shove him back.

“That. you don't get to, fucking- fucking treat me like shit and then get all possessive when I’m not even, when we’re not...you don’t get to do that—!”

“He had his fucking hands all over you.” Ron’s voice is steel on stone, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“I wanted his fucking hands on me.”

Ron frowns at that, and you frown right back.

“You made yourself pretty clear, sending me away like some nuisance after I saved your men when no one else would. If you hate me so much, why’d you kiss me in the first place—?”

He’s shaking his head before you finish speaking, “It had nothing to do with that, I don’t fucking hate you—”

You scoff. “No?”

“No, you stupid girl—”

“Don’t call me stupid, you fucking prick. I’m not the one who results to schoolyard antics when I get a crush on someone—!”

Ron barks a laugh at that. “I don’t have a crush on you.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I left right now and let Floyd Talbert absolutely destroy me tonight?”

He says your name as another warning, and you can’t stop the amused expression that crosses your face as you shake your head.

“Unbelievable. You’re such a child.”

This time he has no reply, but the look he gives you is answer enough.

No, I would definitely mind.

Letting your eyes squeeze shut, you take a deep breath.

“What do you want from me, Ron?”

The hands that had been gripping your forearms falter slightly, and you hear the catch of his breath at the exhaustion in your voice.

When you open your eyes again, you see a look of confusion on his face, as if he doesn’t truly know what he wants either. Like he hadn’t gotten that far in his possessive thinking.

You both stand there for a few moments in silence, your breaths slowing and your fires smoldering into a controllable flame.

You take one of your hands from his chest to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, not realizing that your bun had come loose at some point.

Ron’s eyes follow the movement, and when you go to let your arm hang loosely by your side he takes your wrist and gently brings it back up to rest against his chest. He keeps his touch light enough that you can pull your hand away if you really wanted to.

You don’t.

When you begin to turn your head away Ron says your name again, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it or known it could be.

“Ron,” you reply, too tired to argue any more.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, and when you meet his gaze you see a flash of anxiety in his eyes.

The same way he’d looked at you before he’d kissed you in the forest.

You take a deep breath. “Not if you’re going to treat me like crap and send me away afterward.”

He studies you for a moment before he nods minutely, eyes flickering down to your lips as he hesitantly takes a step into you again, the hand not holding yours coming up to hold your jaw.

When he kisses you this time it is sweet, his full mouth plush against yours and nothing like the way he’s kissed you before.

He does nothing untoward, allowing you to deepen the kiss in your own time and inhaling sharply once you do.

His hair is soft between your fingers, softer than it had any right to be for someone so rough.

As you tilt your head to the side he just holds you, hands framing your face as if you’re made of glass before he finally breaks away and takes a step back to catch your reaction.

“That was...different.”

He smiles briefly at your response, a warmth in his gaze only serving to make you flush deeper.

“Bad, or—?”

No, no. Not bad,” you rush to say, taking a deep breath before shooting him a nervous smile. “It was...nice.”

“I should’ve kissed you like that the first time.”

You shake your head at that. “No, I mean- I didn’t mind it, uh….before.”

His thumb brushes across your bottom lip you swallow nervously, unused to this sort of softness from him.

“I didn’t send you away because I don't think you’re a good medic. You should- I should have made that clear.... before.”

You nod quietly. “Okay.”

“You’re, you’re really good- one of the best nurses I’ve seen—”

“No need to lay it on so thick, Ron. I already know how good I am.”

When he smirks and looks down he looks like a nervous little boy in front of you, and when his cheeks pinken you let yourself smile.

It’s obvious this is new territory for him, and the fact that he’s even trying means the world to you.

You’re still mad, still embarrassed by how wildly inappropriate his behavior was earlier, but you’re also aware of how difficult these little admissions of remorse must be for someone like him.

How difficult any sort of feelings other than rage and duty has become for all of you.

Although, you doubted he’d express any of these newfound values to anyone else.

“I don’t know how I’m going to break it to Floyd,” you mutter, winking at Ron when his head snaps up and he narrows his eyes. “Boy’s had it bad for me since we were stateside—”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.” Ron interrupts, raising his eyebrow when you frown at his tone. “Besides, I outrank him. He wouldn’t disobey a direct order.”

You scoff at that. “I don’t think you can pull rank when calling ‘dibs’ on a girl, Ron. That’s not how ranks works.”

“Oh no?” he challenges. “Just you watch me.”

Before you can quip something back to him he gives you another long, slow kiss that effectively shuts you up.

“And, just for the record,” he says between kisses. “I don’t call ‘dibs'. If anything, I call finders keepers.”

When you pout he grins wickedly down at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re such a child. I’m not a prize, I’m a catch”

“Damn right you are.”

And he gets right to proving it.

~ ~ ~

WOOHOO HERE IT BY MY LOVELIES I DID A THING AND IT MAY BE CRAP BUT IT’S MY CRAP AND I’M PLEASED WITH IT FOR NOW, OKAY?!

LOVE YOU GUYS AND THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LATELY, IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs imagines #beautiful requests are beautiful

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