#rust talking about the people who loved him down there being his daughter and his father. and they never liked each other.

[phasmotid]

family of lovers and quiet deaths by choice

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Joel (41) / F!reader (25) | 4.7k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky attitude or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: hi guys!! I’m fresh off finishing east side of sorrow and couldn’t wait to hop into this work. I can not thank everyone enough for the fun we had with esos, but i am beyond stoked to meet this joel because i am ferallllll for him all dirty on a ranch with a cowboy hat on a horse ughhhh, give it to me already. anyways, let me know if you like it 🤍 thank you to @sawymredfox for letting me idea dump on you and give me all kinda of ideas! i love you to pieces! this ones for you my dear!

A03 Link | Spotify Link | Masterlink

Pt. 1: Oklahoma Smokeshow

Half a mile from the turnpike, two miles from home, along the winding and twisting asphalt of Cold Creek road, Joel Miller rasps his gloved hand against the steering wheel of the Rising Sun Ranch’s newly bought—second (maybe fifth?) hand old pickup truck. A beat up nineties chevy with rust on the floorboard and a new-car tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Beside him, his brother Tommy bounces his knee while he takes a long drag off his second cigarette since this drive started. The smoke plumes through the window, then back inside when the chill outside pushes the hot smoke back into the cab, whirling around Joel's senses like it belongs there. The smell is insufferable and makes Joel’s skin crawl, takes him to a time before ropers scars and belt buckles.

“Know that shit’s gon’ kill you, right?” He doesn’t need to look over at his brother's form beside him to know the younger man is anxious, like he usually is on long car rides. “You used to do it too, big brother.” Joel scuffs at him, keeps his one gloved hand on the wheel as he keeps on driving. He’s not wrong, if he wants to talk about the Joel of ten years ago, a distant, ragged and angry version of himself. “Don’t remind me.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the snow coated road ahead of him. He’s cautious at this time of the year, the winter storms usually leave them stranded on the ranch for a few weeks, but he’s lucky enough to have caught the dark clouds before they started to let down too much. The salt on the roads seem to do the trick for the time being, so long as he stays away from the embankment and keeps his eyes on the dimming road ahead.

It was mid day, but the sun sets early in the winter, so it hangs low in the sky amongst the cold abyss, like it’s desperately reaching out for the horizon—like it wants to run from this place too. He looks ahead and silently wishes to himself that he could follow those last rays of sunshine into tomorrow, like maybe he would find something there.

He shakes the thought and sets his mind back on track, why they were out here. “When we get back to the ranch, you need to find a way to apologize to Miss Lou. She really was just tryin’ to be helpful, Tommy. She ain’t wrong for that.” Louise had always been more than welcoming and kind to them, she’s saved their asses more than once and she feeds them more than she needs to, but his brother can never seem to let a good thing be, always biting the hand that attempted to feed him.

“Don’t like it when people go through my shit, man, you know that.” He’s nearly done with his cigarette, thank fuck because Joel wants to grab it from his hand himself and chuck it out the window. “She wasn’t goin’ through your stuff, dipshit, she was doin’ your laundry! Doesn’t give you any right to snap at someone like that. Especially a nice lady who’s husband give’s us a dollar in our pocket and a roof over our heads. Do you have any Idea where we’d be without that?”

It cuts deep because Tommy flicks his butt out the window and sinks down in his seat, he knows Joel is right because they are incredibly lucky to be where they are now. They would probably never find somewhere as appealing as their little shared hunting cabin a half mile from the main house. “Hank ain’t happy,” he adds, like Tommy doesn’t already know that after the argument that led to them leaving. “We wouldn’t be out in a goddamned snow storm for fuckin’ flowers if Hank was happy.”

Joel finally glances over, but when he does, it’s at the bouquet of flowers sitting beside him on the bench seat. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize—to both of them. We wouldn’t have shit if it weren’t for them—“ they wouldn’t, they were on their last leg, hitchhiking across half the country when they found an ad outside of the feed store in Jackson looking for a ranch hand in exchange for room and board. Joel gave them two for the price of one and the rest was history. Tommy makes an annoyed sound and interrupts. “Joel, what's that?” Directly in front of them, on the side of the road caught in an embankment is a little blue car sunk all the way down to the lug nuts. It doesn’t look like the person lost control, but they just drove into the embankment.

This road isn’t frequented and the cell service is spotty, but the taillights on the car tell him there's someone inside. “I’m stoppin’ to help,'' Joel informs him, but Tommy shifts and rolls his eyes—he’s never been the humanitarian type. “Why? I’m sure they can pay for a tow truck. Besides, if they are stupid enough to get stuck in an embankment, they can suffer.” Usually, Joel would agree, but the closer they get to Christmas, the more that iced over heart of his starts to thaw out.

Joel stops the truck on the road and leaves it running while he looks over at his brother. “Ain’t leavin’ nobody stuck out here in this storm, even if they’re stupid. They won't make it through the night.” He shuts the door behind him and stuffs his hands into his pockets. An agitated gust of air leaves his lungs in the form of cloudy condensation amongst the snowfall. He walks up to the car, leaning down so he can glance inside without getting too close. Through the fogged window, he can make out the figure of a woman leaned against the steering wheel, her face casted by her hair hanging all around while she slumps her head against the wheel. Stupid—stupid girl. What the hell is she doing way out here?

He rasps against the window and she jolts just as Tommy comes up behind him, finally having left the comfort of the truck cab. “S’a girl, should have guessed.” Tommy interjects with a crude tone, thankfully before she rolls the window down. She looks a little scared and a lot embarrassed, her eyes are red like she’s been crying her heart out. It doesn’t make Joel sad, it makes him uncomfortable. Emotions make his skin crawl, make him uneasy. He doesn’t handle people crying well, he doesn’t know how to react to it, what he should say or do.

“You need someone to pull you out?” He asks, trying his best to sound mellow tempered and helpful. He’s not, but he won't be able to sleep tonight if he has to drive by the coroner unsticking her frozen body from the seats in the morning. “I’m so sorry—I was checking my phone because my mom texted me and I didn’t see the corner—“ stuck in the snow because she was on her fucking phone? “You hit a snow embankment because you were textin’? You dim or somethin’, girl?” She gives him a hard glance, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I’m not dim, but I can tell you’re dense.”

Tommy scuffs from beside him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll grab the chain,” he tells his brother as he heads towards the truck. “I’m gonna pull you out, but after that you’re on your own, kid. This storm is just starin’, might be smart if you headed back to whatever city you blew in from.”

She’s the furthest thing from appreciative when Joel hooks a chain to the frame of her car and the hitch on the front of the old red chevy. When she gets out of the little blue car, Joel gets the full extent of how unprepared she is for a full on impending whiteout snowstorm. Her pants have rips and holes, like they are meant to be there, no way they are offering any kind of protection from the chill. Her boots have a three inch heel like she’s walking along some new york sidewalk with a tiny dog in her arms. She has a jacket, fur lining the hood and yet she’s still shaking like it all does nothing to protect her from the snow.

“Thank you for doing this, but I really could have called a tow truck or something. They probably would have been a lot nicer about it.” Her voice is dripping with disdain when he stands upright again. “You want nice, or you want to be dead? Because there ain’t no company sending a driver out here when were forecasted to get two feet overnight.”

She puts her hands on her hips in an attempted threatening manner, like that might scare Joel into an apology when she looks like an angry child who didn’t get their way. Joel hated people like this, too good for the world with their nose up in the air. He turns around to head back to the truck when he spots the piles of boxes in her back seat. Great—another fuckin’ know it all who think’s living out here is romantic and rustic. “You movin’ out here somewhere? You know there ain’t a mall for like, a hundred and fifty miles, right?”

She’s irritated now, with all the rude comments Joel is throwing her way—but he doesn’t care because the last thing this place needs is more city people thinking they can tame this untouched land. It shouldn’t bother him, because how long could she really last out here anyways? With those three inch heels and clothes fit for a concrete jungle, not muddy plains and cattle. She won't make it a month out here in the dead of winter.

“Just pull my car out, or leave me be, because the last thing I need right now is to get harassed by some old dumb fuck cowboy.” Dumb cowboy? Old? Like he’s the fucking moron out here in the middle of a blizzard in a car with bald ass tires and pants with holes in them. Maybe he should fucking leave, let her strand around trying to find a signal to call a tow company that wont come. “You know what?” Teach her a lesson, maybe then she’ll learn this place isn’t for people like her. With her done up hair and makeup—she’s pretty, unnaturally so—like she’s trying to damn hard to look that good—god damnit—“walk around in those stupid fucking shoes and see if you can find your own way out,” he leans down and undoes the hook under her car roughly. “Come on Tommy, were out of here.” She stomps her foot in the snow and starts to pace back to her car.

Joel makes his way back to the truck and unhooks the chain from the front. He’s had a long fucking day of taking care of his idiot bothers problems and he doesn’t have the patience to help some girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her.

“Hey, big brother.” It’s Tommy’s voice in his ears when he finally closes the door behind himself, huffing in discontent as he puts it in gear. “What.” He snaps, backing away from the stuck car and those sinfully tight jeans on that tight little—mother fucking son of a bitch, stop it!—he cant stand people like her, fucking with his head and getting under his skin. The type of girls who have looked him up and down and laughed in his face at the thought of someone like him being up to standard for someone like them. That snot nosed brat can sit in the snow, for all he cares.

“No need to get all hostile at me, man—I’m just checkin’ on ya. You’re all red and pissy, and nothin’ gets you all worked up like that.” He shrugs beside him with a cocky sort of snort. “I mean, unless—“ Joel jerks on the wheel and sneers over at his brother. “Drop it. Not another fucking word or I’ll leave you here too.”

Tommy’s jaw snaps shut and he looks out the passenger window, the radio playing quietly while the storm picks up, and the road carries on. Joel doesn’t think about what he’s done, only how his knee bounces and his hands flex the whole way back to the ranch. How his heart pounds and his blood rushes and it makes his head throb.

When they pull into the muddy drive, he shuts off the truck and turns towards his brother and the bouquet of flowers. “You really need to mean it when you talk to them, I’m serious. They are nice people who’ve looked out for us for two years. We owe them that, at least.” His little brother seems serious when he nods, so Joel passes him the flowers and heads inside. They have sacrificed so much to help Joel and Tommy. They’d been through dark winters with them, when they lost half the herd to the cold and Joel spent the night in the barn with what was left to make sure they all stayed upright and dry. They’ve all had empty bellies at night, didn’t have two nickels to rub together between the four of them and they’ve stood by each others sides through it. They’ve seen Tommy lose his shit a few times, too—so they know he’s capable of coming back from it. He just hopes this time wasn’t too far—Tommy had yelled at her for simply washing his clothes for him.

When the door to the big white farm house creaks open, Joel steps inside to the warm scent of roast in the oven and potatoes on the stove, Hank in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand and his reading glasses on while the game plays in the background. Hank was a large man, kind of chubby in the joyous kind of way, kind eyes and balding on the top. He laughs a lot, but he takes no shit while he’s at it.

“Kitchen,” Joel directs Tommy, who makes his way to the conjoining room where Louise was probably busy cooking dinner. Joel makes his way over to the couch across from Hank, who drops his paper and gives Joel a long look. “You talk to him?” He nods his head and glances down at his snowy boots. “He’s been real anxious all day. Storm comin’ in is messin’ with him and he knows it's no excuse to snap at anyone. He’s in there apologizin’.”

The older man nods at him and glances over his shoulder where Joel can barely see Tommy handing her the bouquet. “She was really shaken up over it, I hate seeing her so upset. She’s been excited all day and trying to make the house looks nice. I think it was just a misunderstanding, but don’t give him any excuse to yell at her like that.”

Joel twists his hands around and looks up at Hank who wears a solemn expression. “I know, I’m real sorry, Hank.”

The man across from him sigh, then offers a faint smile as he stands from his chair. “It’s alright. You boys are like family, families fight—it happens. Lets get some dinner, forget about all this mess, alright?” Joel is thankful for the reason to drop the conversation and stands with the older man as they head towards the kitchen. Louise and Tommy are talking quietly, smiling at each other until she reaches out and embraces him in a soft looking hug. It's an ease on Joel’s wound tight mind, thinking Tommy had finally thrown a wrench in the only good thing they’ve had in ten years.

Dinner is delicious, savory roast that he can dip soft bread in, let is soak up all the juice that he tries and fails to not get all over his beard. When his bowl is empty and his stomach feels distended, he leans back in his chair and sighs contently. “That was amazing, Miss Lou—I don’t know how you do it.” The smile she gives him isn’t like one of her usuals, it’s slightly saddened and disheartened when she looks across the table at him. For a moment, he worries that Tommy’s words are getting to her again. “Everythin’ okay?” He sits up a little in his chair.

“I'm a little worried. Our daughter was on her way home from college today, she’s finally graduated and she called me this morning to tell me she’d be home before supper, so I made her favorite.” She looks towards the window. “The storm is getting worse, I’m worried her little car wont make it,” Joel’s whole stomach lurches into his throat and he nearly throws up in his hands. “I told you we should have gotten her a truck, Hank, you know she’s not the best driver in snow.”

Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!—he’s such a fucking idiot. He knew she was coming home today, Lou has been talking about it for weeks, the impending return of the prodigy child, home with a degree to save the ranch—or whatever it is that she was doing. He’d heard them talk about her so many times, she was all brains and no know-how, Hank always talked about how clumsy and awkward she was, but how brilliant her mind was at the same time. He’d always questioned how uncoordinated she really was, based on the photos of her as a young woman roping in the rodeo. Fuck—he should have recognized her... “What’s her name again?” Tommy asks like he has no fucking clue Joel is losing his ever loving shit right now. They left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of this damn snow storm. He hears Louise say her name but it doesn’t register because he feels like he’s on fire and drownings at the same time. “But everyone’s always called her Honey. Since she was a little little thing. She was always so ornery and stubborn until one day she got into a bee box and got covered in bee stings. Ever since that day she was so sweet, so we started calling her Honey.” Lou has this soft smile and all Joel can think about is how he’d told her to crawl back to whatever city she came from in her stupid fucking shoes. “She’s got a real mouth on her till something puts her straight.” Hank chuckles and Joel abruptly stands from his seat.

“I’m finished, I can go out and have a look incase she got stuck somewhere.” He slings on his jacket, but Tommy is still eating and doesn’t think much of it—dumb ass. “Are you sure? She’s probably fine, she knows better than to get caught out in these storms, she probably got a hotel in town.” Joel shakes his head at them and throws on his thick Carhartt jacket that Hank gave him his first winter here after watching him shiver in the fields. “I’m sure, it’s gettin’ bad, just gonna make sure she ain’t stuck somewhere.” Joel makes his way out the door quickly, grabbing the keys to the truck that they had given to him—“how are you supposed to manage a ranch if you don’t have a way to get around?”

He starts up the old chevy and it fires to life despite the snow coming down in heaps now. He’s worried about the road back to her car, about the probably eight inches lining the long driveway, but he throws it in four wheel drive and tries his damndest to get through it because despite all the things stacking up against him, his biggest worry is the police finding her frozen to death in the morning and her parents faces when they find out it was Joel who abandoned her there to die. God—he’s such a prick.

The road is slippery and tricky, a winding snow covered path along the hillside leading towards Jackson. It takes him twenty minutes in this blizzard to get there, all he can think about the entire time is the half freezing girl hiding in her car and the warm food in his belly that was meant for her. He stops the truck when he gets to the car, the lights are off and it looks abandoned—his gut lurches again, what if he’s already too late? Two hours have passed since he left her stranded and the sun has set now, real cold is creeping in.

He jumps out of the truck and walks up to the window. He can't see inside because the glass is fogged, so she has to be alive in there. He knocks on the window and the door jerks against the cold. “Hey,” he pulls the door open more, she’s sitting in the driver seat, pale and shaking with a small blanket pulled around her to keep in some warmth. The look she gives him could kill a man if he didn’t feel like he was already going to die the second she tells her parents that he left her there.

“Y-Your conscious f-finally get to y-you, asshole?” She’s absolutely shaking, her fingers look purple. “I’m so sorry—C’mon, it’s warm in the truck.” He reaches for her hand, but she snaps it away from him like he might burn her. “I c-can get o-out on my own.” She can and does, wobbles on her too tall heels and starts to head towards the running truck. Joel grabs the door for her and she sneers at him—yeah, yeah—he deserves that. He closes the door behind her and runs over to the other side. When he jumps in, she’s got her hands pressed against the heater while she relishes in the welcomed heat.

He pulls away from her trapped car, he’ll come back for it when the snow has cleared up a little bit, but for now—it’s too dangerous to try and yank it out just for it to get stuck in the road because it has no traction. It's ten agonizing minutes of silence while Joel taps his fingers against the steering wheel, trying his damndest to keep a close eye on the woman beside him. She’s warming herself up and thawing out that burning rage Joel knows is inside of her. When they get closer to the driveway, she starts to fire off. “You takin’ me to some backwoods shack to tie me up and keep me?” He scoffs and looks out the windshield, trying to keep the truck steady in the snow.

“If I was going to tie up and keep some girl, I’d make sure she was less bitchy.” She growls at him, growls lowly and it actually does the job, makes his skin prick in goosebumps while he drives. “Wouldn’t be so bitchy if you didn’t leave me on the side of the road. You know I could have died, right?” He is painfully, agonizingly aware of that fact. “I came back, didn’t I?” The driveway is in view, a long fenced path up to the old farm house. “How’d you know I was comin’ here?” Her voice is a tad quieter now, less abrasive on his ears.

“Cus’ I’m comin’ here too.” He says quietly, halfway hoping it won't reach her ears, but her mom was right—she is quick, smart too. “You’re Joel, aren’t you?” She laughs menacingly, crossing her arms across her body and her left leg over her right with a scoff. “You know, my parents said it was Tommy I wouldn’t like. Said you were this big southern gentlemen.” She laughs a little harder, looking over at Joel. “They were half worried they’d have to chase me out of your bed, that you were right up my alley. My daddy said you were the type to charm any woman’s pants off. Guess they don’t know you like they thought they do, huh? Under all that chivalrous facade is just another self centered, selfish cowboy.”

Joel shuts off the truck and glances over at her. “Look, I’m real sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit, got a thing for people who don’t belong out here. Didn’t know you were their kid. Would’ve pulled your car out if I’d known.” She opens the door of the cab and steps out into the snow. “So you’re only a good person when someone’s lookin’, I’ll keep that in mind, dickhead.”

She slams the door and storms off towards the house while Joel slumps against the wheel with his head in his hands. Fuck…if it’s not Tommy risking their welcome, their jobs, then it was him, making an absolute ass of himself in-front of the bosses daughter. The bosses fiery, too good—too good looking—

“Son of a bitch!”

—

He gets into the house ten minutes after she does, his hands stuffed in his pockets and half expecting her parents to kick him out right then and there. He pretty much told her to fuck off and left her to freeze to death. There’s no doubt in his mind that they would have found her dead in the morning, the temperature was below freezing already.

To his surprise, it's quiet when he gets inside. Hank and Louise are in the dining room with their daughter, laughing and smiling and surprised to see her, to see her with Joel. “And he just found you there?” She looks so…so..chipper standing there beside her dad with her arm on his shoulder while he sits at the table. “Yep, got my car stuck because I was texting, I know—not bright.” She sounds so fucking fake and dramatic in her tone, Joel’s hands flex and unflex. “And I couldn’t get out and find a signal because of my stupid fucking shoes. I probably would have died there if not for…good ol’ Joel.” She cocks her head with this shit eating grin on her face that makes Joel's gut clench up and his heart pound.

This fucking bitch—is she blackmailing him right now? In those stupid fucking pants and that top he’s finally getting a glimpse at—and then…shit…

Look at you…just—his brain is going haywire right now. He hates your fucking guts right about now but his brain makes other notes about your guts and its desire to be in them—and that tight ass shirt with your tits just pourin’ out of it—Jesus CHRIST, Joel, get it together here.

He shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek and meets your eyes, everyone else is looking at you, but you’re looking at him, fully aware of the way his eyes just ate your body up for dessert until he was stuffed. “Real winner you guys have here, mom and dad…real winner.”

If there’s one thing Joel is certain of, it’s that he is in big, big fucking trouble.

[llynwen]

hi you're European right? I'm curious to know your thoughts about how the American south is portrayed in true detective bc I've been there and yes it's exactly like that but even moreso. Haunted ass beautiful country

Thank You So Much for such an interesting ask!

In the case of many europeans who were born before the Internet was such a big thing, we mostly learned about the us from films and shows. my childhood experience was watching reruns of spaghetti westerns and early 2000s rom coms, family comedies and kids movies, and feeling that the technicolor reality of america was somehow so much better than the Gray of eastern europe. the discrepancy isn't as noticeable now as it used to be when i was a kid, but you could Smell the post-sovietness some days. the life i saw in the movies was anything But the bleak, overwhelming reality of the early 2000s in my country that just made you feel nauseous and gave you a migraine. like i remember being Shocked at the technology of CDs and MP3 players. it was 2007.

the consensus was always that america was somewhere where everything was better. bigger. brighter. america was where you went to be happy. where you could breathe.

then, as i grew up, i obviously realized that this was a load of bullshit. i don't remember when the shift took place, but sometime in my teenage years, i suppose. by that time, my english has gotten good enough to actually participate in social media (that are predominantly american, like tumblr for example. i've been here for a decade) and actually engage in discourse. to learn about the Real america and what life looked like for the average person. and it wasn't great. guns, systemic oppression, privatized healthcare, the capitalist rot. none of that was present in the movies of my childhood.

now, in true detective, the south reminds me so much of how eastern europe felt in my childhood. it's nowhere near similar to it visually, the nature and architecture and people are all different, but it is Stifling, Suffocating, like the sky is gonna come down on your head. the ash and aluminum line actually describes it so good. what i was most surprised by, though, was the people. starting from marty (let's not focus on rusty here as we can all agree he doesn't really belong with the rest of the characters), he is a perfect example of the average family man. i love his character Because he's a shit and a cringeass loser, but in the scenes of him interacting with his daughters in '02, the feeling that he evokes in me is Disgust. and i feel like that's a common archetype of the father-provider that thinks his role in the house ends with making money. he sits in his chair, makes everybody miserable with his very presence, and expects the food to be brought to him. that man has never scrubbed a toilet in his life. i know men like him. i've met them, talked to them. i'm related to them. they're everywhere. that disgust feels intimate. now, the other characters that surprised me were the side characters, the people rust and marty go to question. tyrone's mother, the prostitutes, dora's friend at the scrap yard - they remind me of my people. now, i really don't want to come off as classist or some shit like that - but in both the show And my reality, the divide between the working class and the educated crowd is Stark. that is not to say that one is better than the other (i firmly believe that a lack of education can make you happier, if you think about it. content with a simple life, happy to work in a mine your whole life, live in a wielka płyta apartment and go to the sea once a year. if that. this is very specific to my region, sorry). the way those side characters talk, behave, even look - that is Nothing like the movies. they're not the flashy main characters, they're imperfect in every sense - they Look like people, have flaws, crooked teeth, they don't dress like supermodels, they can be stupid, they drink and smoke and cheat and lie. they're Human, not movie protagonists. and i love that reality in the show. makes it feel that much more authentic.

i don't know how specific that is to the south; are the people like that in other places? are the fishermen in luisiana the same as in minessota? is the suffocating feeling specific to the iberia parish, or is that just how it is in small town america? i dont know. the problem is, i wanna find out.

see, i never lost that childhood wonder. call me naive, but i still wanna Go. i still want to see the american dream with my own two eyes, even if it means i'm gonna watch it shatter in real time. i graduate college in a little over a year with a masters degree, and for right now my plan is to find a way to go work at a ranch in montana or wyoming. that's all i want. my favorite thing about america is not the culture, not the people, not the Possibility, but the Space. ironically, the stolen land is what compels me most. i want to experience that open space, to Breathe, and for the first time in my life feel my lungs filling up fully. i will be disappointed, full stop, but i want to have that experience.

the american south is a fascinating place to me, always has. the specific mix of cultures, the tradition and lack of it, even the bigotry and hate, it's all endlessly interesting. as you said, haunted but oh so beautiful. it scares the shit out of me. i need to go and feel it bite me.

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (14)

Rusted, part of Book Two: Mind (see previous or series)

Summary: Bruce tasks Bucky with taking extra baggage to Wakanda while Sam Wilson recovers.

Warnings for tough (but vague) talk about past accidents and physical trauma. Rated Teen/Mature so 15+ only, please.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN—August 2038

“I don’t think I should leave if something is wrong,” Bucky said, staring in at Sam Wilson reading a book while getting blood drawn in the lab.

“It’s not really…wrong. He just…” Bruce replied. He couldn’t explain it. Wilson adjusted holding his book with the hand not being stuck, showing the title Total Applications of Quantum Field Theory.

Bucky pressed a finger against the two-way glass. “You don’t see anything wrong with that?” He scoffed, partly concerned for his friend, partly annoyed to be the chauffeur to a teen on a trip across the world. “Seriously?”

“Am I supposed to be panicked he’s got different interests since waking up? That’s not uncommon with head injury—”

Bucky fumed. “Everything weird is common with head injuries, apparently, because you people don’t know anything about them. It’s 2038!”

“You people? I think…I should be offended.” Bruce may have been completely jaded to ‘smartist’ mockery, but he also loved the chance to study such an extensive turnaround of Sam Wilson’s recovery. The patient remained irritable, sarcastic, and alert with full motor-function. He had occasional headaches but, most bizarrely, had developed not only an interest in but the ability to understand all sorts of scientific studies quickly. “Look, Bucky, you won’t be able to do anything if it is wrong anyway. No offense. It’s not something you can just—” Bruce slowly swung his fist through the air, making a small ‘pow’ noise.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky said flatly.

Bruce pursed his mouth. He was definitely not the funniest Avenger, but he did try every so often, usually failing and immediately retreating to a cave of algorithms to plot his next joke. The team repeatedly called it ‘cute;’ Hulk didn’t like that distinction either. Hulk had toppled cities for less.

“I’ve got a couple data sets and stuff for Shuri, too. Let’s load up the quinjet and get you on the way. Looks like Little Sam is coming up the drive now,” Bruce continued, pointing out the far window.

Bucky groaned. The ball-capped girl trudged down the lane with two massive hard suitcases. She was barely big or strong enough to maneuver them, yet he watched as she waved off one of the security members who came over to help her. The guard pointed her in the direction of the landing pad. Stubborn, Bucky internally groaned, just like good ol’ Pa. Bruce returned to shove a box of odds and ends against Bucky’s chest. The doctor looked at him seriously for a moment.

“I’m glad it’s you taking her. Also, don’t mention the,” and he waved a hand over his head. “Fair warning.”

Even though it was not necessary, Bucky made Sam strap herself into the chair up front, damned if he would be responsible for any other injury on Stark’s daughter. The two were quiet for all of takeoff, and they’d flown over nothing but water for a while before Bucky glanced over.

Samantha sat tucked up like a rolly-polly, craning her neck to look out the window curiously.

“You look like you’ve never flown before. Natasha’s taken you in one of these, hasn’t she?”

“I’ve never crossed an ocean,” the girl replied in a voice so small he could hardly hear it.

That was a quaint notion. The Avengers bounced from continent to continent almost daily, occasionally planet to planet even, and Sam was afraid of a body of water. She rubbed her hands over her arms, stopping only to rub her legs. However, she still looked on, fascinated.

“Alright,” Bucky finally broke in after another half hour, “I’m gonna ask what I’m not supposed to.”

Samantha looked up at him, shocked but quiet. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Are you harming yourself?” He regretted asking the second the words came out, but then he felt the impulse to double down. “I’m asking because the hair, and the scars on your arm, and the limp.”

“Those weren’t from—” Sam cut herself off. “No, Captain Barnes, I do not harm myself on purpose,” she chimed systematically.

His eyes flickered back over to her at the distinctive choice of words.

Sam looked at her feet. “There was an accident. The Bartons like to bike, motorcycles and dirt bikes specifically. I am…terrible at it, so the last time we did, I was behind Nate on his Ducati, and we crashed.”

“Why does Tony not know about this?”

“I was 14, and that was the day Clint told me Tony was sending me to boarding school. I…said some—I screamed several choice things and ran off. Nate came to find me, even though he was a jerk about it, and I got on his bike to go home.”

She stretched out her legs into a seated position. “When we were close enough to see Clint waving us back over, Nate raised his hand to waive and hit a ditch, but see, we were right by a bit of a hill. I went flying when Nate skid trying to correct us. They said I smacked a tree—” Sam grabbed her left arm, “—and then my momentum and weight snapped my leg.”

Bucky tried to imagine the absolute horror for the Bartons. If Bucky was so worried about strapping her in for one flight, how anxious must Clint have been… He knew immediately why someone wouldn’t tell Tony, if it was at all possible to hide it.

“Compound fracture of the left humerus. Compound fracture of the left femur. Damage to the growth plate, so my left leg stopped growing at age 14, resulting in a now one inch difference in length. I tried not to listen when they said how many pins were in there. I stared at the ceiling. They made Nat,” Sam swallowed, “explain why we couldn’t tell him. So I didn’t go to boarding school, and after four months I went to Harvard with Cooper. Well, I lived there.”

Bucky knew that stare, the one where you know the past can’t change so you stopped reliving it, the one where you try over and over to accept the hand you’re dealt, the one where you remember everything and feel nothing. Steve used to pull him out by recalling baseball stats incorrectly. Bucky would always snap out to rub his knowledge in that punk’s face. He could try a version of that on Sam Stark, something else for them to talk about.

“What’s quantum field theory?”

She didn’t change her gaze but scrunched her nose in thought. “Um, like which area do you want? Electromagnetic? Chromodynamic?”

Well, that was nice while it lasted, Bucky thought, already lost. 

“Do you know what normalization is?” she continued.

So she couldn’t pick up on hints either… “How about like I’m from the 1940s,” Bucky requested.

“Well, they knew some bits in the 20s—” 

Bucky frowned on purpose, deeply, comically.

“Right. Basically,” Sam thought out loud, making a roundabout motion with her hands, “how… stuff interacts within a—where it is.”

“What stuff?”

“Subatomic particles.”

“Ok, and we’re done with that.” Bucky had zero intention of going back to the shrunken feeling of not following the teacher in school, but he could still gain some context for Falcon. “How smart do you need to be to understand that stuff?”

Sam sat, confused. “That’s not a quantifiable question. It’s not a specific neural requirement.”

“Nineteen-forties—”he reminded through gritting teeth.

“It’s my personal belief that you can learn anything if you have the right teacher. If you make the subject relatable and applicable to something in your life, you remember it. So instead of starting with quantum field theory, you could begin with the psychological field theory or how people interact with where they are.”

Although a perfectly reasonable association, Bucky snorted. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

“You know that I don’t. Why else would I be so excited to leave the country I’ve been in my whole life?”

“Is that why you’re so…fidgety?”

“No.” She continued to scratch and shift in her seat.

“Do you have a rash?”

“Why did you ask about field theory? Uncle Bruce need a book club buddy or something?”

“Sam, I mean, Big Sam was reading a book.” 

Samantha’s eyes grew wide, and her head snapped over to look at him. To his surprise, she seemed just as concerned as he was. 

“Thank you! That’s weird, right?”

“He…” She tried to get a spot behind her right shoulder blade. “You mean, he can follow—he is learning very quickly?”

“Essentially. It’s like he woke up and was smarter.”

“I feel like Big Sam would be a little offended—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Bucky sighed, but Sam had already quieted.

“So,” she began after a long pause, “how worried are you?”

“It’s not exactly a health risk, to be smarter, but I just—what else could change?”

Lil'Sam remained silent this time, holding one arm against her chest, seemingly lost in thought. When Bucky’s eyes flicked over to see if she was even still sitting there, he saw her staring at him. He looked again. She wasn’t staring at him per se, but her eyes were fixed on his metal arm. Loads of people still stared at the arm, so in public, he covered it with clothes and a glove. He thought back to the wedding. He’d been covered; she couldn’t have seen it then. Didn’t she already know about it? Suddenly, he wished he’d worn more cover than a tank top even if it was summer and they were flying to an African nation close to the equator. Why would Sam still be wearing sweats? He glanced again. She was still clutching her left arm against her.

“Are you in pain?” Bucky asked.

Sam snapped back to reality, suddenly guilty and ashamed of her rudeness. She didn’t convey the same in her response, abruptly announcing, “I’m tired. Can I go lie down?” She didn’t wait for a response, either, and unbuckled to rush back into the jet’s cargo area.

Teenagers, Bucky thought.

[Ch 15: Judgment]

[Main Masterlist]

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[sylverstorms]

Bela x Maiden ----Songbird Ch. 1

Cold, dark, humid.

That is what everything in your world has been reduced to. There are no colors anymore. There is no sun. There is no hope.

If you look ahead, rusted iron bars cast their shadows on you. Beyond them, chains and hooks hang from the ceiling, some of them weighted down by torn human bodies. The floor is slick with trails and puddles of blood. A cloying, acrid stench of death pollutes the air you breathe.

You cannot escape this nightmare.

Even if you retreat to a corner of your cell and curl up into a ball, your eyes closed and nose pressed tight to your elbow, you can still hear everything. The tortured screams, the sound of your jailers’ giggles and laughs, the ceaseless wailing that haunts both your sleep and your every waking moment.

You know your turn will come. Day by day, you accept it. You won’t leave this place alive. Your life was forfeit the moment you came into this village, only to be captured by monsters and ‘gifted’ to horrors.

Some of the prisoners in the cells near yours talk, at times. They tell you of the Dimitrescus and what they do to people sent to them. They tell you if you’re as pretty as your voice makes you sound maybe you’ll be turned to wine instead of food or entertainment –and that is the best ending you can hope for yourself. No use in praying for anything else. Even God can’t hear you in this hell.

You learn what you can from them, until they are in no condition to speak to you anymore. Then, it is your turn to sing to them, to ease their suffering.

You will not leave this place. This castle you’re in is your exalted gravestone with the bloodied dungeon the coffin that keeps you in. You won’t ever leave.

But.

You are not concerned about your own fate anymore. All you think about is that of your family’s. Your loving parents and your baby sister, who have certainly figured you should have returned by now. Who must be worried sick about you.

Who cannot be allowed to come searching for you here.

The thought is unbearable.

You will die and that’s fine. But before you do, you have to make sure they live.

I need to figure out a way…

-

-

So, you observe.

Lady Dimitrescu is said to have three daughters, but only two come down into the dungeon to ‘play’ with their food. Cassandra and Daniela, their names are. You can tell a bit about their personalities from how they behave. Neither of them will be of any help to you for what you need.

But they are helpful in what they say about the third.

You hear of Bela from their complains and how ‘unfun’ she is. How she always waits for dinner despite their unquenchable thirst –“How does she stand it?” Daniela huffs— because she, apparently, hates her ‘snacks’ crying and thrashing as she feeds.

And that, you can use.

Question is, how will I communicate with someone that never comes here?

The universe seems to show some measure of mercy when it answers your inquiry for you.

One day, you hear the sound of determined footsteps followed by a strange rustling, as if something is being harshly dragged across the stone floor. Then, comes a foreign voice;

“Tried to escape, did you, stupid man-thing?” she asks, coming to a stop near your cell.

Your eyes catch a fleeting glimpse of the man she was dragging along. You recognize him –he is one of the few that used to talk to you before he went silent. You thought he was dead. Now… he really will be.

“Fuck you, you crazy fiends!” he shouts, his breathing erratic. “You and your whore mothe-” He doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentence.

You see only a blur;

This is the one I hoped for?! The one who’s better than her sisters? Because so far she seems worse. You cannot get over how callously she crushed a man’s head, without so much as batting an eyelash—

Then Bela has smashed his head into a gory pulp against the wall.

You gasp, damn near falling backwards from the shock. Your stomach lurches wildly at the sickening crack. Your heart almost stops beating right there. A headless corpse drops at her feet.

Bela shakes the blood from her glove as if it disgusts her and turns around to leave the way she came.

You’ve lost your words after that display… but your gut knows you can’t also lose your chance.

So, you swallow down the crippling fear and repulse and grab at the bars trapping you. “Lady Bela, wait!” you call. Your voice is hoarse from unuse and exhaustion. God, I sound awful.

Her back tenses. The slow way she turns reminds you of a roused predator… and that can’t be good. Her voice doesn’t sound the least bit amused when it comes out, low and ominous:

“What did you say…?” She approaches your cell in regal, even steps. One by one, her features come into view past the shadows of her hood.

Blonde hair frames high cheekbones and a pointed chin; Cold yellow eyes, with the slightest touch of green at the edges of her irises, peer through you. If it wasn’t for the fresh, deep crimson staining her mouth and lower jaw, perhaps she could even be considered a decent-looking devil.

“Y-you are Bela…right?” Her gaze narrows the slightest bit. “Your sisters talk about you.” you’re not sure what you’re saying, but it seems to work when the ice in her stance breaks for a moment.

“All good things, I assume.” she half-rolls her eyes, the sarcasm in her voice hard to miss. “What’s it to you, human?”

You set your jaw, hold her gaze… and speak up. “I need a favor from you.”

Bela blinks. Then she chuckles, as if you’ve gone so crazy it’s funny to witness. “Well. Never heard that one, before.”

“I need to write a letter to my family.” you talk faster, now, growing desperate. “Please. From what I’ve heard, you’re the one most likely to listen. Let me have this and I’ll be in your debt. I’ll give you anything you want.”

In a sudden movement, Bela grabs at the iron bars right above your hands, rattling them with her inhuman strength. You are shocked to silence, yet you refuse to retreat.

“I can already take everything I want.” she states, matter-of-factly. “What could you possibly offer me in return for that favor?”

“I heard you don’t like the people you drink from to scream and thrash as you do. I’m sure the thirst gets bad at times…” you trail off. You can already see how tight her throat gets at the mention.

It’s a questionable move at best to tempt the wolf while she’s starving, but it’s also your only opportunity.

“And I’ve been told I taste quite good.” you lie.

Bela studies you from head to toe. Her expression doesn’t shift, but she seems to consider it. “A letter. That’s all you want.”

“Yes.” you reply. “After that, you can do whatever. I don’t care. Just one letter.” You plead with your eyes.

“…Alright. But I get to see what you write. And if there’s any hidden messages for help or information about my family, you die. On the spot.” Unlike her sisters, this one is definitely not messing around.

“Deal.” you nod.

-

-

You didn’t think Bela would take you out of the dungeons.

But she unlocks your cell, commands you to follow and leads you through luxurious, red-carpeted corridors, all the way to a quaint study. Judging from the ancient history and science books on the shelves, as well as the the neatly arranged office, you think it may be her own.

Bela motions for you to sit on the chair with a cock of her chin and places a sheet of paper and a pen in front of you.

“Get to it.” she orders –and hard as she tries not to show it, you can tell her impatience stems from her hunger.

It's easier said than done when your fingers start shaking as soon as you address your mother. Tears well up at the corners of your eyes, stinging hot, like ashes from a flame caught within your eyelids. You are endlessly thankful your fringe hides your vulnerability from her. You do not want her to see you cry. Yet the cracks in you are spreading, you’re breaking—

“Are you going to write anything or…?” she prods after a while of you being so emotionally choked you cannot will forth a single word.

“How am I supposed to write anything with you looming over me like that?” you ask, a tad snappy, then wonder if this is the end for you.

Bela, however, just tsks and pushes off the desk, giving you space. That… was unexpected.

Woman up. You inwardly chastise. It won’t be convincing for your story if your letter ends up with tear stains all over it. You aren’t doing this for you. You remind yourself. It’s for them. It’s all for them.

You need to break your family’s heart to make sure it keeps beating, when yours stops.

Keeping that in mind, there is no sentimentality in your words as you write them. You are cold, cold as the winters in Romania.

You tell your parents about how they stifled your dreams of leaving your small hometown to pursue your passion. That you finally left to make your life through your music, out in the grand world. You write that you’ll think of them and love them forever, but you are never coming back. At the end, you apologize to your younger sister for leaving her and wish her the best in life.

I’m sorry, Anna. I’m so sorry. Your vision blurs at that part and you couldn’t write more if you tried. But, you suppose, this is enough for them to despise you.

Wordlessly, you push the letter towards Bela when she comes back.

“Your handwriting is very… loopy.” she comments, upon the first glance.

“Thank…you…?”

When you look up at her, you realize something is different. Her hood is down and she has cleaned herself of the blood that made her look like a fiend. And she’s—

…surprisingly good-looking. You don’t want to think the word gorgeous. She’s just fairly… pretty.

Pretty stunning.

Her brow furrows more the further down she reads. There’s a small line on her forehead, right where the strange, rose-like tattoo the daughters share ends. The expression would almost be cute, if she were any normal girl.

“Are you sure this is what you want sent to your family?” she asks when she lowers the paper, staring at you.

“I’m sure.” you say. “This is for the best. I just need to know that the letter will reach them.”

“It will. I’ll take it to your door myself, when I’m able.” You shouldn’t trust a single word any of them says, yet there’s something about her that feels… reliable.

“I suppose that settles it, then.” you nod. “Where do you want me?” you’re too tired, physically and mentally, to consider all the implications of your words as you say them.

It could be a trick of the moonlight, but you think Bela’s eyes widen for a moment. “On… the couch.” she replies, perhaps a fraction less authoritatively than before.

As gracefully as you can manage in your state of malnutrition, you rise from the chair to take a seat at the cushions, with your back turned to her. You reach up to guide your hair away from the left side of your neck, baring it for her like a tribute.

The couch dips when she sits behind you. Her body feels cold in comparison to your warmed skin. Your heart is pounding like a war drum. You are terribly anxious, yet you swallow the fear down. It doesn’t matter if you die here or five days from now. You’ve come to terms with the notion you won’t last.

Bela will keep her word –you trust that she will— so you keep yours. You stay perfectly still as you feel the predator lean closer, her chest pressed lightly against your shoulders.

She could be faster about the whole process, you muse. Because the way her hands trail up your arms to curl around your biceps and the way her lips barely graze your neck are almost insufferably intimate; and your body is starting to react to the sensation of an attractive girl’s mouth hovering over your skin.

Even if she’s a blood-drinking, unfeeling killer. That part doesn’t seem to turn you off enough right now.

“It’s going to hurt. Don’t. Move.” There’s a little warning growl adrift in her voice.

“My word is gold.” you promise.

You can almost feel Bela’s smirk on the spot right above your pulse and you valiantly resist to urge to shiver.

“Good girl.” she speaks and why on God’s green earth did she have to say that—

Luckily, you don’t have time to grow any further confused. The aching warmth you felt is sharply replaced by searing pain. Her canines feel longer –too long— as they pierce through your flesh like it’s no more resistant than butter. You tense but you bite on your tongue not to make a sound.

Bela exhales a sigh of pure relief, which soon turns into a moan. Despite your predicament, that does things to you. You wonder how the hell you can even be aroused when it feels like someone is shoving icy nails deep into your neck and draining your blood through them.

You can’t tell how long it lasts, but it surely feels like a fraction of eternity even though it can’t be more than a few minutes. You are lightheaded by the time Bela pulls back and presses a soft white napkin to the punctures.

You dare unlock your muscles enough to turn around and look at her. She’s licking her lips like a satisfied cat, looking much more relaxed than the entire hour you’ve known her.

“Apply pressure for a while. You did so good, by the way.” Her little smile seems almost uncharacteristic. You guess there’s some sort of vampire high following blood consumption.

You, on the other hand, feel like death. You do wonder, though, what’s the deal with her specific drinking tastes. …Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?

“Do you like your food to wiggle and yell as you eat it?” she asks, simply.

Well. That… makes sense, if you think about it.

“You look ready to pass out. Also, your blood sugar is low.” Bela continues. “I could take you back to the dungeons to wait until you’re made into wine… But. I think it’s best for both of us if I kept you around here.”

“Wait. You mean…?” you slur. Words are getting harder to voice.

“You’ll work as a maid in the castle. There are rules to follow and a strict work schedule, but you’ll have your own chambers, good food and some free time. Preferable to wasting away in a moldy cell, in my opinion.”

Wasting away in finery then, hm? You want to ask. You’re sure your eyes betray your thoughts, but right now a bed does sound wonderful. “You make it sound so generous, being your go-to snack.” you huff.

Bela gives you a smirk and tilts your chin towards her with a gloved finger underneath it. “Better than being dead, wouldn’t you agree, little songbird?”

You do not really have a choice. Both of you are aware you don’t, but the fact you are at least presented with the illusion of one must count for something. So, you nod. You accept.

“…I agree.”

-

-

Ko-Fi

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter One

Chapter One: The Other Wilson Sister - chapter two

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n grew up with Sam and Sarah Wilson in the bayou of Delacroix. During the Blip she stayed with Sarah to help run the family business. With Sam back and trying to save the day, Y/n’s perfect opportunity to confess her long-kept secret to her best friend presents itself.

Warnings: tfatws ep.1 spoilers, language, suicide mention, undertones of racism, lots of Wilson sibling arguments, tragic backstory

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: As I wrote this first chapter out I realized it’s most definitely also a Sam Wilson x platonic fic. Bucky doesn’t come in till next chapter but rest assured, it’s gonna be a wild ride...Also I didn’t know till now how difficult it is to plan out a series in its entirety when the show isn’t completed lol. Hope you enjoy! (I may or may not change the title depending on how I feel about it later today lol)

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Delacroix, LA 2024

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One of the only things I was certain of in life was that blood didn’t make a family.

I had no official tie to Wilson family, I wasn’t a daughter or some distant cousin sent to live with them. We shared no DNA and they had no reason to love me as much as they did. But throughout my life I had known no kinder people than them and I doubted that would change. As I stood on the family boat helping to unload the catch of the day, I thought of how our corner of the Louisiana bayou felt more like home than any place I’d ever been.

“Hey,” Sarah said from the dock, “Head out of the clouds and down here helping me.” “Sorry,” I shook myself out of my thoughts and hopped off the boat, “Not a bad catch if you ask me.”

Sarah sighed as she bent over a large bucket of fish, “It could’ve been better.” I came to stand in front of her and held my hands out for a bucket, “Take the wins where you can get ‘em, Sar. Lord knows we don’t get enough of them.” Sarah Wilson was the only superhero I’d ever aspire to be like. She was a widow who had raised two kids and run a business all by herself with no family for support. The past five years had been challenging with so many people gone and while I had moved in with her to help however I could, I could take no credit. She was one of the strongest women I’d ever known.

“You had that look on your face again,” she said as we worked.

“What look?”

“That look that lets me know you were thinking real hard about something,” Sarah imitated the expression in question by thinning her eyes slightly and furrowing her brows, “Like this.” I laughed heartily at her impression, “So what was it?” I gazed out at the bayou waters before turning to the boat and finally Sarah, “Family.”

She nudged me with her hip, something we’d done when we were young and an affectionate gesture we’d carried into adulthood. A half hour went by with us and the boys unloading and sorting the fish we’d caught. I was too wrapped up in the task to notice the sound of a vehicle approaching until AJ and Cass announced the arrival. 

“Blue for the snapper, orange for the whitefish.”

“Uncle Sam!”

My head shot up upon hearing his name, as did Sarah’s. I used my hand as a visor against to sun to spot the familiar rusted truck parked a few hundred feet away, with my best friend standing outside it hugging his nephews.

“That’s right, Uncle Sam,” Sarah called, “You’re back early.”

I grinned as I shucked my gloves off and made a beeline for him, slamming my body into his for a tight embrace. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, having spent the only weekend he was off away, and I’d naturally been worried sick about him. My best friend and un-biological brother may have been an Avenger for years, but after losing him in the Blip I didn’t think I’d ever stop worrying about him.

“Every time I come home, you act like I’ve been gone for five years,” he joked over my shoulder, resulting in me pulling away and slapping his bicep.

“Not even a little funny,” I pointed a finger in his smug face, he slung an arm around my neck as we walked over to Sarah.

“What’s goin’ on? You got Mom’s sneaky look on your face.” “How you gonna try to read me when you know I’m the one that reads you?” Sam smiled, passing by and greeting a long time customer of ours. “That look is permanently glued to his face, Sar,” I chuckled, “I learned that in grade school.” Sam shook his head at me and laughed before making his way up the dock to the Wilson family boat. “You gotta marvel at it, baby’s being held together by duct tape and prayers.” I leaned into Sarah, “Are you telling him or am I?” She took the initiative, “It just needs to float long enough for me to sell it.” “I thought we were gonna discuss if we were selling it,” Sam replied as he helped unload another bucket of fish. “We did, and then you were off fighting Doctor Space Cape or whatever while we,” Sarah gestured between us, “Were holdin’ it together for five long years. Now that the world is going back to normal, this thing’s gotta go.”

Sam looked to me with a look of displeasure, “Were you in on this?” “Don’t drag me into this,” I waved my hands as if wiping my involvement away, “This is a Wilson sibling discussion.” “Uh-uh,” Sam called me out, wagging his finger, “Don’t do that. Dad said every chance he got that you were one of his own, you’ve got a say in this too. What is it?” I scrunched my face up, dreading the argument that was knocking on our door, “It’s dead weight, Sam. The money we could get for it would be enough to keep us comfortable for a little longer without having to worry.” “We grew up on this thing. It’s not just Mom and Dad’s name on it. This thing is a part of our family.”

I sighed as Sarah stepped forward, “You know the situation we’re in. This is why I prefer not to dwell on it in front of everybody.” “Well what if we don’t need to sell it?” Sam said. “Can we talk about this in private?” I suggested, tiring of having to convince Sam that we were in the right when he hadn’t been around to witness our struggles. A long time friend of ours called out to Sam and he willingly took the distraction, opting out of having the inevitable difficult conversation. Sarah and I trudged back, totes of fish in hand and tried to get through the rest of the work day without worrying if we were approaching our last.

————

During golden hour, when the clock had struck five and we’d started packing it up for the day was the only time to get Sam to actually listen. I knew how much the boat meant to him, it meant something to us all, but he wasn’t living in the reality that Sarah and I were.

“Sam, the boat’s gotta go,” Sarah finally said, breaking the silence we were working in on the vessel. “Wait-“ “No, let me finish,” she said, “Y/n and I are doin’ everything I can to keep this business afloat and every day we’re making $5 and spending $10.” Sam looked between the two of us, “So why won’t you let me help?” 

“Sam, don’t…” I winced, knowing Sarah’s reaction would be strong.

“No, don’t start with that. We made a deal before Daddy died,” Sarah carried a few buckets to the center of the deck, “You’re out there, I do things my way here. Y/n agreed to it too when she went off to school.” “Right, but you tangled the house into this when you took those loans,” Sam finished tying off one of the ropes, turning around and giving Sarah the perfect opportunity to punch his chest, “Forgot how hard you hit.” I sighed as I passed him by to follow Sarah, “Low blow, you deserved it.” 

“Sarah, Y/n, c’mon,” he chased after us, “Look, and don’t hit me again…What if you had money to fix it up? Make it nice so you can charter it when you’re not out working the waters?” “Sam, do you think this was an easy decision for us?” I faced him, leaning against the doorway next to him, “I tried every tactic I learned in business school and got nowhere. Anything I thought up, we needed more money to do. This is our only option.” As he always did with the things he cared about, he fought. “We can take a loan and consolidate everything, it’ll take down your monthly,” he looked confused as he watched Sarah laugh, “What?” “You think I didn’t try the banks? They’re in with all that big business now.” I followed them like the little sister I’d always been as they moved their fight towards the cockpit of the boat. Sam blocked another doorway, “Yeah, but now you have me.”

“Don’t, Sam,” Sarah shook her head, “I just got good with this.”

“All right…”

“Maybe it is time for us to move on,” Sarah sighed. “Either way, just let me help,” Sam offered, “I’ll set the appointment. Look, I won’t let you guys down. We can turn this shit around. Trust me.” I peered over at Sarah, wishing I could see the calculations going on in her brain. It seemed pointless, but any shot at changing our luck was an avenue worth pursuing.

“It can’t hurt to try,” I shrugged.

Sarah finally relented, “To the rescue, huh?”

“Always,” Sam smiled, “Now, let’s get some dinner. I’m hungry.” ————

Sarah was taking AJ and Cass back home while Sam and I took his truck to go pick up food.

“So how was Tunisia?” I asked, sticking my hand out the window and letting it rise and fall with the wind.

“Hot, but the mission went well,” he answered, looking out of the corner of his eyes at me, “And that’s all you need to know.”

I snickered, “C’mon, it’s our thing. I ask you detailed questions about your confidential missions, you tell me you can’t reveal anything, I keep asking…You’ve gotta honor tradition.” “I flew, I fought, I rescued. Boom, mission explained.” “Ugh, you’re impossible, Wilson,” I waved him off, “How was the museum dedication?” The atmosphere changed as the subject of conversation changed from easy to complicated. “It was nice to see Steve’s accomplishments celebrated. Got to see Rhodes which was nice…” “You’re avoiding a red white and blue topic,” I said, trying to coax his true feelings out of their shells, “Seriously, are you really okay with this? Giving up the shield?” Sam inhaled deeply and exhaled, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t think it was ever meant to end up in my hands. I did the right thing, it belongs with Steve and the museum is the closest to Steve I can get.” I respected my friend’s choice but I knew there was so much more to his decision and I wished he would just say it. He had an enormous amount of respect for Steve Rogers and what the shield represented, but Steve Rogers never had to face the issues that Sam Wilson did. Steve Rogers could follow a government and be respected in return with no problems whatsoever. Sam Wilson couldn’t, not always. There was an elephant in the room and if neither of us wanted to talk about it, I wouldn’t push it.

“You’d have looked good in that uniform though,” I smiled as we turned into the take out place’s parking lot.

“Damn right,” Sam waggled his eyebrows and unbuckled his seatbelt. Laughter rang out in the truck sending me on waves of nostalgia. The memories that me and him had in this truck still were infamous between us. As proud as I was of the Falcon’s heroics, I was prouder to call Sam Wilson my best friend.

————

Just as he’d promised, Sam made the appointment with the banker. He and Sarah were already on their way as I made the hour long drive in the opposite direction to New Orleans. I’d told them I’d be back in the evening to discuss how it went, but I had my own appointment to keep.

Sam and I had met back when we were just a couple of first graders. I’d always struggled with making friends as a kid, but Sam never had an issue when it came to connecting with others. It was one of his strongest qualities. And so he used his gift on his desk neighbor, the loneliest kid in class, and pulled her out of herself. We were inseparable until college and adulthood forced us apart, but we’d never lost our bond. Even when he was a pararescue, he wrote to me as often as his work allowed him.

All the Wilsons had taken a liking to me after Sam brought me home one day after school to watch cartoons. Darlene had told me I was welcome to come over any time I wanted, an offer Sam and I accepted till I became a permanent fixture in their house. Paul and his wife had frequently tried to get the rest of my family over for a crawfish boil or a barbecue. They’d send me every few weeks with a verbal invitation to my parents and the next day I’d always come back with a polite decline and excuse as to why we couldn’t make it. Mom was busy with spring cleaning, Melanie had a recital, Dad was feeling under the weather…

The only one that had ever been true was about my dad not feeling well. He was never well. But as a child, how do you explain that your father is a ghost around his own home who drinks himself to sleep and wakes up each night screaming from nightmares? There was no polite way to phrase circumstances that dark. Sometimes I felt like my dad had never returned from the military and though there hadn’t been a war at the time of his service, he still came back with his share of trauma. Mom did everything she could to try and help him. She found support groups for veterans, she took him to the best psychiatrists, she created a safe space for him within our home to retreat to. There was no amount of help that could kill my father’s demons and that was proven the night he’d said we were out of milk and he was going to the store. A few hours later, with my sister and I fast asleep upstairs, my worried mother answered the door and was informed by the police that my father had crashed his car and was dead. After speaking to Mom about what his mood had been like before he’d left and if he suffered from any mental illnesses, it was ruled as an undoubtable suicide.

My mother didn’t get much time to mourn after the funeral, she had two children to provide for. She took three jobs just to earn enough to move us from our house in New Orleans to a dingy apartment in Delacroix by the bayou. When the Wilsons heard that Mom needed to scrape enough money in the budget to hire a baby-sitter for me and Melanie, they put a stop to her efforts immediately. The insisted that Mel and I would be happier spending the time my mom was working with them and their kids rather than a stranger. That was how the Wilsons and the Y/l/ns had ended up so tightly knit. While Sarah and Melanie had bonded as the older sisters and were often off doing their own thing, Sam and I caused havoc of our own in classic younger sibling fashion. By the time we were in high school, both parents called the other’s children their own.

When Paul and Darlene passed away, it was incredibly hard on all of us and it was equal when Mom had a fall and the doctors suggested she move into a facility. Sam, Sarah and I had worked hard to get her into one of the best nursing homes in the city and she hadn’t stopped raving about how much she loved it. Pulling into the parking lot was like muscle memory now, I never missed a weekend visit with her. This one was special because Melanie, her husband and brood of children had come too. I grabbed my visitor’s sticker at the front desk and made my way down the familiar hallways. The sound of laughter and cooing echoed out of my mom’s room, bringing a smile to my face.

I knocked on the door and heads turned, my nieces and nephews being the quickest. “Aunt Y/n!” I embraced Sophia and Max tightly, “The twin tornados! I missed you guys,” separating from them was difficult as they clung to me but I made it to Stephan, giving him a kiss on the cheek and doing the same to Mel, “You look hot, mama.” “I certainly don’t feel it,” she remarked as she cradled their newest addition, baby Alexandra, close to her chest, “I spend more hours of the day covered in glitter glue and spit up than you could imagine.” “You wear it all well,” I patted her shoulder before coming to my mother’s bedside and hugging her, “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” she kissed both of my cheeks and looked to the door, “Sarah and Sam couldn’t come?” “No, but they send their love. They had an appointment at the bank,” I set down my purse and pulled up a chair, “We’re trying to get approved for a small business loan.”

Glen took Alexandra from Mel so she could tend to the twins, “I wish we could help out, Y/n. I’ve looked at the budget over and-“ It warmed my heart that my brother-in-law cared so much about a problem that wasn’t his to bear. “Glen,” I held up a hand, “You guys are stretched thin enough. This isn’t me asking for charity, it’s our problem and Sam’s confidant we’ll find a fix.” “How does he have enough time to be a member of the Air Force, an Avenger and save the family business?” Mel asked.

“Well, the Avengers are kind of off doing their own thing right now from what I understand and he’s home for a little while from the Air Force,” I explained, “So his main job at the moment is to get us our funding and annoy the snot out of me while doing it.” After earning some giggles from Sophia and Max at the expression, Glen announced that they were going to go and grab lunch for everybody. My mom took my hand once it was just the two of us and I settled into my seat, “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hanging in there,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair, “Tired, stressed, I smell like fish most of the time…We need this loan or else we’re going to have to sell the boat. You should’ve seen Sam’s face when Sarah told him…”

“I’m sorry, I know how much that boat means to you kids. I could’ve offered you the moon and stars and it still wouldn’t have been enough to get you off it.” I smiled at the memories of summer nights spent laying on the deck stargazing, dance parties on the stern and early mornings spent with Mr. Wilson teaching us how to fish. A childhood with so much sadness had also contained so many joys. To part with a tangible one killed me more than I’d let on to Sam.

Sensing that the topic was making me emotional, my mother was kind enough to change it. “How are things otherwise? Have you been getting out there?” I dropped my head back dramatically and groaned, “Mom…” “I’m just saying,” she dropped my hand and held up hers in surrender, “You should get out there, meet someone. There’s no shame in trying those online dating services. What’s the one…the…Tinder?” “Oh my gosh, Mom,” I buried my face in my hands and moved my fingers so she could only see my eyes, “Please stop talking.” “You know who I ran into the other day? Jack’s mom, from high school. She lives just down the next hallway, she says that he’s still single. You could get in touch with him.” “Y’know, for a woman who advocated for her daughters to lead such independent lives, you’re sure quick to try and marry us off,” I chuckled, “The second Mel started dating Glen you were practically booking the church.” “And I’m very proud of both my girls for being such strong young women,” she smiled proudly, “But finding love doesn’t mean losing your independence so long as you’re with the right man. I love that you’ve been helping out Sarah these last few years but honey…I see how lonely you are. In those big y/e/c eyes you think I still can’t read after all these years.” The y/e/c eyes in question started to fill with sadness at hearing my pain verbalized. It was true, I was lonely. More so than I would ever let on to anybody. I was a shy enough kid who only withdrew further after Dad passed away, that kind of introversion wasn’t one that you outgrew. But I’d given up the idea of finding someone to spend my life with a long time ago for a bevy of reasons.

“Sometimes it’s better to be alone, Mama,” I nodded as if to force myself to agree with my statement, “No chances of getting hurt…or hurting somebody.” “You couldn’t hurt somebody even if you tried,” my mom argued sweetly, “You couldn’t even kill spiders when you were a kid.” “And now there’s a Spiderman out there so I’m glad I didn’t,” I shot back with a laugh.

“I’m serious, honey,” she took my hand once again, “Don’t let your heart’s wounds keep you from finding someone who could help soothe them.” 

I was convinced my mother was both a poet and a therapist at some point in her life, she gave advice in the most beautifully phrased way. And while I’d loved to have taken her words to heart, tell Mel to fix me up with one of Glen’s friends and put an end to my loneliness, I feared that I was just too broken to give love to someone.

————

I arrived back home late, shedding my boots and bag at the doors. I’d expected to hear a triumphant chorus of Sam shouting ‘WHO DA MAN?’ as he typically would when heroically proving me and Sarah wrong, but there was only silence. When I walked into the kitchen and saw their glum faces, it wasn’t hard to guess the outcome of the meeting. “You’re kidding me…” “Said that things had tightened up,” Sam said, leaning against one side of the island and taking a swig of his beer, “Had the balls to ask me for a picture afterwards.” I groaned and grabbed the beer bottle Sarah had extended to me, “Okay, we’re out of options. It’s time to move forward-“ “Don’t say it…” Sam tiredly warned.

“Someone has to, Sam. We can’t keep searching for solutions when the right one is sitting out on our dock,” I gestured to the window that looked out on the road we took each day to work.

Sarah set her beer down and held her hands up in surrender, “I’m not having this argument again tonight, I’m going to bed. If you’re gonna kill each other, do it quietly.” She left as me and Sam silently stared each other down, waiting for the other to speak. I was too frustrated to play the game, “What’s this really about?” “It’s about the damn boat and that you and Sarah are throwing in the towel too-“ “What,” I elongated the single syllable word, “Is this really about?” Sam set his drink down and rubbed his hands over his head before looking back up at me helplessly, “You guys were on your own for five years and you’ve done an amazing job. But now nothing’s working and I just…I just want to help because I couldn’t for so long.” It all clicked as to why Sam was being so insistent on trying to eliminate the whole matter. He was used to saving the day and finally meeting one that he couldn’t save was a wall he thought he could still find a way to run through. He’d been like that ever since we were kids, always trying to help the people he loved even when it was impossible. He had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever met.

“I love you,” I set down my bottle and crossed the island to come next to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, “But this may be one problem that the Falcon can’t swoop in and fix. The Avengers work hard, but a business graduate helping to run a struggling seafood business works harder,” I succeeded in getting him to crack a smile, “Believe me, I’ve run all the numbers and consulted with anyone who would listen. The boat’s gotta go.”

“Yeah, well, humor me and give me a little while longer.”

“Fine, a couple more days,” I grabbed my beer once again and clinked it against his, “But it’s not my fault if Sarah smacks you again.” Sam laughed, slung an arm around my neck and kissed my temple. “You coming up soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in a few minutes,” I answered, watching as he finished his drink before leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs. Once I’d heard his bedroom door open and close, I exited out to the back porch. I took in the late night sounds of the bayou, the crickets chirping and the wind rustling trees had always soothed me. I wished they could touch what I was feeling right now, but the noise didn’t do a thing to drown out my worry. For the business I feared we may lose, for Sam as he ran himself ragged trying to help and for myself and what him and Sarah would think of me once I confessed the secret I’d kept from them for so long.

I held out my hand and watched as the blue energy flowed from my fingertips. Would Sam ever forgive me for not telling him I had powers? They had manifested when I was young, my parents said. I couldn’t remember a day where my body hadn’t produced a magical energy that when harnessed incorrectly could be destructive. It had been a sad day for my mother’s garden when I’d discovered that bit…According to her, she’d wanted to take me to a school for people like me run by a man named Charles Xavier but my father had said no immediately. He’d been so insistent on keeping my powers a secret that my mother said she’d only seen that type of fear in his eyes when he had a war flashback. So I was instructed to never show my powers to anyone under any circumstances and I’d done just that. I’d thought about revealing them in 2012 after the Battle of New York, but my dad’s fear rang in my ears. Three years later when Sam became an Avenger was when I began to feel guilty that I was keeping a secret from him. I’d wanted to join him and find somewhere where I didn’t feel so out of place, but I’d decided against it again. Now with their team so broken and Sam off with the Air Force, I’d finally gathered the courage to confide in him and Sarah. I should have done it six months ago, but I’d chickened out too many times. Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow was the day. But would they still see me the same way once I showed them? ————

The next morning, after dressing and running over what I wanted to say three times, I hesitantly headed downstairs to face the music. With there being nobody in the kitchen, I followed the sounds of the television to find Sarah and Sam staring at the screen intently. I stood to the side of the room and watched a suited man give a speech out front of a government building. “We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.”

My jaw slackened as a man marched out in front of the gathered press, dressed in a variation of Steve Rogers’ patriotic uniform and carrying the iconic shield. The shield that had only weeks ago sat upstairs in Sam’s bedroom in a case. I dragged my gaze away from the screen to look at my best friend, hunched over in his seat with his eyes shut in sorrow. Sarah looked just as distraught, her eyes trained on her brother as well. We waited in silence until the breaking news broadcast switch back to regularly scheduled programming before Sarah switched the box off.

“I thought you said it was going to stay in the museum,” I finally spoke, my voice choked with emotion.

“It was supposed to,” Sam ground out, his grip on his own hands tightening. Without any warning, he rose from his seat and left the room. My instinct was to follow him and try to comfort him, but there was nothing I could say to ease the deep pain he was feeling. I wasn’t even sure I could form words that weren’t doused in raw shock. The two things I was sure of were that a) the government had fucked up royally and b) now was definitely not the time to tell Sam about my powers.

————

It was a few days later and Sam still hadn’t spoken much to Sarah and I about the situation. It was unnatural for Sam to suffer in silence especially around us, but we both gave him the space he needed. 

I was taking laundry to AJ and Cass’ room and had to pass by Sam’s, surprised to see him packing a bag. “Thought you were sticking around.” “Something big came up,” he replied as he set a stack of t-shirts in his duffle bag, “I need to go check it out.” I leaned against his doorway, “Air Force big or Avengers big?” “The second one.” “And you’re going by yourself?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

Sam looked over his shoulder at me finally, “Don’t have anybody to else to call. Besides, I can handle myself.” I hummed in response before setting down the stack of laundry, an idea forming in my head that could solve both of our problems. I folded my hands together and dug my feet into the carpet, “What if you didn’t have to go by yourself?” He looked confused, “What are you talking about?” My folded hands began to make circles in the air as I struggled for the right words, “What if I came with you?” “What, like take your family to work day something?” Sam scoffed, “That’d be fun.” “I’m serious.” “Are you crazy? Of course you can’t come.” “Hear me out,” I looked to his bag and the pair of jeans he had next to fold, “Actually watch.” He folded his arms and waited for my demonstration. I took a deep breath and extended my hand, forcing my energy outwards to levitate the jeans. “Whoa!” Sam exclaimed as he watched me maneuver the clothing inside his duffle, “W-w-what…What was that?” I shrugged and pulled my hand back to my side, “The reason why you should take me.”

“How long have you been able to do that?” “Since I was a kid,” I moved out of the doorway and closed the door, the last thing I needed was AJ and Cass knowing their aunt could move things with her mind, “My parents told me never to tell anybody. I’ve thought about telling you for years since you’re used to this kind of thing but I was scared…Then you were gone and when you came back, life was moving non-stop and I lost my courage. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Sam stood with his jaw hung for a few seconds before shaking his head back into reality, “Why are you apologizing? You never had to tell me, but I’m glad you did,” he pointed a finger towards me, “But you’re still not going.” “What are you talking about? I’d be an asset to whatever it is you’re fighting! And I love you but c’mon bird boy, you may be able to fly but I can do it without any tech.” “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” Sam gestured between the two of us, “You think insulting me is the way to get me to let you come?” “Come on,” I moved to sit on his bed, “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll prove that I can help.” “Alright, alright,” Sam took a stance in front of me, “You wanted to hear the tea on my missions, I’ll spill it. There’s an online group called the Flag Smashers, their MO is to get the world back to the way it was during the last five years. My military contact, Torres, went undercover in Switzerland when they robbed a bank. Knocked him unconscious when he tried to fight back.” I balanced my elbows on my knees and tapped a finger against my lip, “So kind of a Robin Hood deal, right? Stealing things from the rich and giving it to the poor. In this case, the poor being those who never disappeared.” “Exactly, except the guy that knocked Torres out was strong. Too strong. I’m thinking they could be a part of-“ “The big three.” Sam’s neck snapped back, “How do you know about the big three?” I shrugged nonchalantly, “The little you do tell me about your avenging always ties back to either androids, aliens or wizards. Though I think you’re being a little dramatic with the term ‘wizard.’”

“Are you seriously gonna correct the guy who’s actually there doing the fighting?” “Are you seriously gonna deny yourself valuable help against either an alien or an android?”

Sam sighed, I was successfully backing him into a corner. “Can you even fight?”

Extending one hand, I levitated Sam and gently slammed his back into the ceiling before reversing course and lowering him onto the carpet. He moaned as he rolled over to face me, “Could’ve given me a concussion.” “Maybe that would knock some sense into your head,” I stood and gave him my hand to pull him up, “Sam, I know that I don’t have any experience but I am more than capable of defending myself. I want to actually do something with these powers instead of sitting on my ass. I’d rather do it with you than on my own. Please?” I watched the cogs in his mind turn through his eyes, I knew he was only fighting this hard because he wanted to keep me safe. But he was in way over his head if he thought it wasn’t worth taking me with. He accepted my hand and stood to his full height, “Pack a bag, we’re leaving for the air base in an hour.” I smiled and threw my arms around him, “Thank you, you won’t regret this.” “I’d better not,” he warned, his arms stayed straightened in displeasure of my enthusiasm, “If you take some stupid risk and put yourself in jeopardy, I’m putting your ass on a plane home.” Quick footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway until the door opened to reveal Sarah, “What was all that noise? It sounded like you were throwing each other into walls.” “Busy,” I quickly dismissed her, using my energy to shut the door in Sarah’s face from a distance.

“Um,” her muffled voice rang through, “What the hell was that?!”

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Taglist: (open)

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (4)

Am I doing this right? I mostly do write this when I am between the state of sleep and awareness. Hope you enjoy this.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 3)

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PART 4

Marinette came to a dungeon cell with two other prisoners. One of them was awake and he looked vaguely familiar. The other had an ugly red helmet that didn’t help with the headache she had.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked the handsome stranger with beautiful green eyes, her throat a little dry.

Wait. Handsome?

No bad Marinette. Don’t fall for fellow prisoners, no matter how cute he looks. Oh Kwamis, she was already screwed.

He still hadn’t replied. Maybe he didn’t understand French. She tried to ask again in another language before her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of footsteps. She faked unconsciousness. Later, she heard the iron door open. She looked through the tiniest slits of her eyes she could muster while the two held a staring/glaring match. Oh shit, that’s the fame Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s, head of the League of Shadows, and the boy she was glaring at had some resemblance to her, so he must be her son, Dennis? Daniel? Damon?

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

Ohh..Damian. Where had she heard that name before?

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Ouch, that hurts. Well, Damian, just because I forgot your name does not mean you can call me a little girl. I can also kill you very easily and painfully.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Red Helmet, Jason, is officially not going on her hit list for his atrocious fashion choices. But that red monstrosity still needs to go.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Marinette felt her hair being yanked. A little pain was expected but the really sharp claws digging into her scalp was not. Making her cry and tear up.

”I am so sorry, kit.” Plagg whispered in the kwami language, loosening his claws.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Damian growled out.

Geez, thanks for the compliment, it’s not like you ever had a tiny cat dig its claws into your scalp out of surprise. (Damian once had a kitten thrown at his head and if he knew about Plagg, he would have been sympathetic.) Marinette started begging for mercy, hoping they would buy the helpless girl out of the suit that is ill-suited for the job she had been chosen for and had no idea on how to escape.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.”

Oh kwamis, what did she ever do to have such a picky groom? The more he insults her, the less she wants to be married to him.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection."

Great, another reason to stop her mother from killing a senile old man.

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

So that’s where she heard it from. The boy was the son of the daughter of a guy who leads a secret order of assassins and a man that owns a multi-million business. How even did a billionaire meet an assassin, ends up in bed with her and lives? Something to think about for later. She quieted down her sobs, (beat that acting, Rossi) kept her voice low to hatch out a plan with Plagg in the kwami language while the mother-son duo bickered.

“Hey, Plagg before you go, you think I can do that thing, the one which your one of your past holders from Japan can do.”

“You have a lot of potential for destruction but you have not used the ring for a long time yet so I am not sure.”

“I will give it a go anyways. Nothing to lose after all. See you later, Plagg.” Marinette smiled, one that drove fear into the hearts of even the bravest of people. Plagg returned it, already loving the new Guardian before zipping out of the cell to do some scouting. Using the enhanced strength the French superheroine got from prolonged use of the Miraculous, she yanked the chains of the walls and wrapped them around Talia’s neck, cutting off her air supply.

The League of Assassins thought that they could kidnap her and get away with it. But they were no match for the daughter of Sabine Cheng, the deadly Blue Reaper. A high ranking member from the group of assassins and mercenaries called the Guild of Night, who had semi-retired. Kidnapping her was a bad move to make as it meant they had declared war on the Guild, despite the reason behind her abduction having a completely different intention.

She whispered as such to the older woman in her tight grip, making sure the League would know how much they had fucked up. After dropping the limp body, she took a deep breath and tried channeling some of her energy for what she was about to do.

Well, here goes nothing.

She breathed out on the shackles, turning it to rust.

Success!

She introduced herself as Lady and concentrated the energy from before into her hand, forming inky black orbs of destruction in order to free her fellow captives. She felt a little drained from doing magic out of the suit and tried not to show it. Plagg returned, informing her of where the Ra’s and the Pits were. She grinned at the thought of showing old Ra’s who the boss is and made sure he regretted ever messing with her. She explained about Plagg as vaguely as she can, no need to let anyone know about the miraculous than necessary. Sure her plan sounds insane but the boys don’t know who they were with.

She would worry about that curse after she got out of Nanda Parbat. Although she could probably find something in the grimoire to reverse it, she was still an amateur at magic so it was best to have a professional to take care of it. Marinette didn’t want to be with such an asshole, no matter how striking he looks in those regal robes.

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Picking off the League assassins, one by one was easy especially in her transformed state. She hadn’t appraised her suit properly but from what she had seen, it wasn’t like Chat Noir’s leather get-up. She was armoured in vital areas and her colour scheme was mainly black with green accents. There were vials that were probably poisons and pouches which she decided to look at later. She still had a long braid as a tail from her brief stint as Lady Noire and she wondered why her suit was different. While hiding in a niche she found, she called the bakery via the comm in one of her various pouches.

“Hello?”

“Papa, it’s me, Marinette. Do you know where Maman is?”

“She went out of Paris, talking about how this League must pay. I think she is meeting up with several of her old friends. Are you alright, my little blossom? I know you can take care of yourself but I worry.” The relief in Tom’s voice was palpable. However, she was right and the Guild was going to war against the League. Marinette was adored by nearly everyone in the Guild due to her strangely bubbly and cheery personality in the harsh and brutal lifestyle.

“I am fine, Papa. Did Maman use the Horse to leave? And how are my friends?” She knew they might be in a panic after her disappearance.

“I think she did. I didn’t see Kalki when I went to feed the kwamis. Your friends panicked when they found out you were kidnapped. But they are fine now, mostly worried about you. Took care of some akumas and senti monsters by themselves. I think your fencer friend, Kagami, knows more about the League than she lets on.” Of course, she does. Her mother was a member of the Guild before being blinded due to a mission. Kagami and her actually first met during a reunion party of sorts.

“Thank you, Papa. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up and dialed the personal phone number her mother uses that only Marinette and her father knows about. She waited for the call to connect, trying to think of ways to stop her mother from storming into the League’s base of operation.

“Maman, it’s me. I know you want to attack the League right this minute. But I have a better plan. Can you get Tikki’s earrings from Alix? We can use them and the ring to destroy the Lazarus Pits. Make them really angry.” She peeked out of the niche she was hiding in. She had been there for a while and needed to move to gain some grounds.

“Where are you? And are you okay?” Panic and worry filled her usually composed mother’s voice.

“I am somewhere in Nanda Parbat and I am fine. I was nearly married off to Talia’s son but I am not now. I think.” Marinette replied. Better to rip that band-aid off before she showed up with her would-have-been-husband. She jumped out of the niche and looked

“Kalki, Full Gallop. Okay, we will talk about the ‘nearly married’ part later. What was this plan to destroy the Lazarus Pits?” Sabine thought she was already used to Marinette’s brand of craziness that was her normal but apparently, not.

“I am currently on my way there. Plagg said we need Tikki to get rid of them. Since the League pissed me off and by extension you and the rest of the Guild, I thought our first move against them is to destroy the Pits and a trail of bodies. By the way, can you get some cheese for Plagg?” Marinette ran through the halls, knocking out some poor sod with a whack on the head.

Silence. She thought Sabine had hung up when-

“Voyage. Alix, where are you? We need Tikki for one of Marinette’s insane plans. And Marinette, stay safe, sweety, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Bye, Maman. See you there.”

Marinette turned another corner, the last one before the path that leads to the entrance where the Lazarus Pits were. She only managed to find it with Plagg’s voice in her head, whispering directions and Tikki’s luck. Unfortunately, the luck ran out because the entrance had a lot of guards who had spotted her.

Crap.

She hoped her mother would get here soon. Thankfully, being transformed gave her a boost and would help her to hold her ground for a while.

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Damian and Red Hood followed the trail of unconscious bodies and sounds of fights, trying to find Lady. Damian was impressed at the level of her skills to defeat many of the League’s assassins although he could probably do better. They relied on his memory to find the Lazarus Pits which was their best bet to finding her as she claimed to be able to destroy them. If Lady possessed such powers, they must find out whether she is a threat to the world or not. And also break the infernal curse they have.

Red Hood was silent mostly. He made a few jabs about how kick ass his ‘bride’ was and how the current Robin should not let her get away. Damian tried really hard not to just maim his adopted brother and also ignore that little fluttering in his chest that happened every time they saw an unconscious assassin left behind by Lady. The sounds of fighting got louder as they got nearer to the entrance. They turned the final corner to see Lady fighting against the guards who outnumbered her. But she seemed to be doing fine against them. Mostly.

One had slipped through her defenses and nearly stabbed her in the back if it weren’t for Damian grabbing one of Red Hood’s guns and shooting a rubber bullet to the neck. He jumped into the fight, grabbing the fallen assassin’s sword and taking out the knife he got from his mother. Jason joined in too, not going to let the two teens have all the fun.

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“Thanks for the save, Al Ghul but I don’t know why you bothered when me being dead would solve your curse problem.” Lady said as the guards laid around them and they tried to catch their breath.

“It’s Wayne. I go by Wayne these days. Being an Al Ghul is not something I learned to be proud of. And as much as I don’t want this curse, your death is not worth that price.” he replied, “Although, I have to wonder why you would choose to die rather than live.”

She chuckled, “Okay, Wayne, to answer your question. Petty teenage drama makes death much more preferable. On top of that, I have responsibilities that I was practically forced into for doing one little act of kindness.” Her tone was joking but there was a touch of bitterness in it. It made Damian want to find out what caused it. Red Hood looked at her in concern. Lady went down the stairs, ignoring their reactions to her words. They followed her, not wanting to lose sight of her again.

The Lazarus Pits emitted a green glow that lit up the cave and cast strange shadows on the walls. At the edge of the glowing toxic green waters was a woman in dark blue clothing and strangely enough wearing sunglasses. Strapped to her sides were two Dao, ancient Chinese swords. She wore a vindictive expression on her face as she stood staring at the green lake, likely to kill anyone who gets in her way. Damian didn’t recognize the woman as part of the League but taking no chances, he got into a fighting stance and Hood did the same. Lady calmly approached the woman. He reached out to grab her to stop her suicidal nature when she shocked him by speaking to the blue-clad assassin in French,

“Hey, Maman, sorry I am late. I had a little trouble with the guards upstairs. You have Tikki?”

Lady’s mother rushed to hug her, “灵儿 (líng er), I am just glad you are alright. I knew you could handle yourself.”

How the hell did Lady’s mother get to the Lazarus Pits faster than them and snuck past several vigilant guards? Before Damian could question further, a red blur appeared and went to Lady’s face, hugging her cheek. It appeared to be the same size as Plagg but was red, looked like a bug and had a black dot on its forehead.

“Oh, Marinette, you are alright. I was so worried when your mother showed up, saying you were kidnapped and needed my earrings to escape.” Unlike Plagg’s nasally voice, her voice was sweet and shrill.

So, my bride’s name is Marinette. Such a unique name for an intriguing girl.

Wait what?

Wayne, stop thinking such ridiculous notions. That is probably the curse working. Resist against it. He will not be ensnared in the traps of such magic. He hoped that the curse will be reversed before he turns and act like those fools in Grayson’s idiotic shows or Todd’s ‘secret’ romance novels.

“I am fine now. See,” reassured Lady, “We actually need you and Plagg to reverse the Lazarus Pits to what it was before someone made the wish that resulted in them in the first place. Oh, I almost forgot. Plagg, claws in.”

Green light flashed, leaving Lady in her wedding robes (which actually flatter her body. Shit. Think of something else. Drake with a smug superior smile that needs to be wiped off his face. Grayson and his plans for ‘family bonding’) and Plagg to reappear.

“Cheese.” whined the cat-like kwami(?) to which the older woman held out a brown bag that smelled and made Plagg perk up in delight. He proceeded to open the bag, taking out a slice of stinky cheese, muttering about the greatness of camembert.

Todd cleared his throat and asked in English, “Umm...Pixie as much as your reunion is touching. Who’s the new lady?”

“Oh Right, sorry. Well, Red Hood, this is my mother, the Blue Reaper of the Guild of Night. Maman, this is Red Hood and the one next to him is my husband-to-be and Talia’s Spawn, Damian Wayne.”

Lady introduced them, also in English. Damian stilled in fear, recognizing the name. The Blue Reaper nearly became his mother-in-law. She was famous for her efficiency and ruthlessness. And gained her nickname from the blue clothing she often wore as she killed her targets. His eyes also widened at how his grandfather had gone a little too far now by kidnapping the Reaper’s daughter. There were other organizations that could possibly take down the League if it weren’t for the somewhat truce between Ra’s and the other leaders. The Guild was one of them and having the Lazarus Pits to revive their soldiers made the League a little more powerful. But if what the mother-daughter duo were planning succeeded, then the League was going to have one of its most deadly wars in its history and would probably never recover from.

“Tikki, Plagg, you guys ready?” asked Lady.

“Yes, Guardian.” They both replied and emitted a blinding red and green light which Damian shielded his eyes from. When it died down, the Lazarus Pits no longer glowed a toxic green and looked… like normal hot spring water.

“Oh. I wished I could see Ra’s face when he finds out.” Lady laughed. Plagg and Todd joined in.

“Pixie, I am beginning to like you.”

“Voyage. That being said, it’s time to go home, Marinette. Your father must be worried sick about us by now. I hope you boys can find your own way back.” A portal opened up, showing a cozy living room. Damian grabbed Lady’s wrist as she moved towards it.

“Wait, let us come with you. We need to contact someone to get rid of the curse on both of us. And we can also call our father to send us tickets for a ride home wherever you live.”

“Curse? Marinette, you never mentioned a curse in your call.” Blue Reaper said, raising her eyebrow.

“I will explain later. They can come with us and I am pretty sure Ra’s knows that we have escaped by now.” Lady grabbed the two brothers and dragged them through the portal.

She then threw herself onto the couch after releasing her hold on them and the two pocket gods went to comfort her after her ordeal. The Blue Reaper stood where the other portal was and fed a floating tiny gray horse, that must be the same species as Tikki or Plagg, some sugarcubes.

“You boys must be tired but the showers are upstairs and we might have some clothes your size. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You can stay the night if you want. Welcome to Paris.”

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl

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(Part 5)

[descendantofthesparrow]

Soulmate au! Countdown - Harry Hook x Reader -oneshot

soulmate au idea sent in by Anonymous 

=

Everyone in the world was born with a watch, not on their wrists or anywhere attached to them, just a simple watch that would appear when a new soul was born into the world. Doctors would blink, and suddenly, next to the new babe, was a watch.

A watch that had a set date of years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds until the new soul would meet their soulmate, the one destined to love them forever.

Some watches were simple ones, a simple leather band with a plain clock attached to go around their wrist. Some got more…exotic clocks, one person, whose soulmate was an astrologist, watch had planets instead of hands to tell the time.(luckily for the person, who didn’t know how to read the time by looking at planets, there was still a small digital timer in the middle just above the sun) some had intricately carved pocket watches, some had sundials.

Prince Ben’s watch had confused some people, being a pure gold and silver watch, rusted slightly (and unable to be buffed to perfection as so many tried) with a horned dragon decorating the top, the back engraved with thorned vines. It wasn’t till years later, as Ben locked eyes with Mal, the daughter of Maleficent, did the watches ticking stop (small A/N; Ben and Audrey don’t date since they know they aren’t meant to be already. Okay let's get back into it!)

Audrey’s watch hung off a silver necklace, the top cover being diamond-like glass that seemed to shine like magic. Her watch had stopped when she met Chad at only six months old, his rose gold wristwatch stopping at the same time.

Doug's watch, a gorgeous gold-plated pocket watch decorated with heart-shaped red rubies, had stopped when he first locked eyes with Evie, daughter of the Evil Queen, who for a small while had denied that her own watch had stopped ticking, and had only admitted it after she and her friends had proclaimed their decision to turn their backs on their parent's evil ways.

Most people your age had met their soulmate already, you knew some who had yet to meet theirs but mostly everyone had already been found.

Not that you personally knew that.

You hardly talked to anyone really, so how were you to know if someone had found their soulmate yet or not.

You were just a regular person in a school of the descendants of heroes and royalty, a loner at that. The only interesting about you was your watch.

It was a gorgeous gold watch with thin black paint under the gold curved detailing that looked like waves, surrounding the outer rim of the cover, with an anchor and a ship's steering wheel in the middle of the cover, the back was a carved compass, the entire thing connected to a strong bronze chain.

You admired it every day, excitement and anxiety running through you as every second passed. And those feelings were amplified recently.

The clock now read seven days, seven hours, eight minutes, and forty seconds. It was only that until you met your soulmate.

You only hoped they wouldn’t think you weren’t worth their time…as everyone else did.

-

Harry had been born with a pretty plain-looking pocket watch, smooth and silver metal protecting the gears.

You could imagine the surprise he felt when he finally opened it for the first time. The inner works of his watch were beautiful, the silver metal had turned to gold, curving details surrounded the hands and timer, a shining scale texture covered the inside of the cover, never leaving a residue on his finger when he traced it.

Many villain kids were told to never open their watches, being told that it was pointless to even look since they would never need their soulmate in the first place.

Some obeyed, some, like Harry, had gotten too curious and looked anyway, and some just looked because they could.

And Harry couldn't say he regretted looking, every day he grabbed his watch and popped it open, smiling as the ticking hands signified the ever-coming day of meeting his soulmate.

Like now, it read seven days, five hours, three minutes, and seven seconds. Coincidently, it matched the same day he would be going to Auradon prep, seven months after king Ben had invited the original four to Auradon.

His closest friend, Uma, had a plan to get the wand and do what the original four couldn’t. but Harry had another plan.

He wanted to meet his soulmate, he knew they couldn’t have been on the isle, he had met basically everyone on the isle, there was no other explanation than for his soulmate to be in Auradon.

He looked up from his watch to gaze at the bright lights of Auradon, his breath visible as he let out a sigh and leaned against the rails of the lost revenge. “you ready for next week?” he suppressed a flinch as Uma suddenly appeared next to him, joining him to look at  Auradon.

“aye” he simply muttered back, clenching his pocket watch in his hand. He looked away slightly as Uma turned towards him, her brow quirked.

“…you want to find them, don’t you?” Uma asked, turning back to Auradon and resting her chin in her hand.

Harry stayed silent.

Uma reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder “I won't stop you from doing that, I know our parents told us that soulmates are bullshit but I could give less of a fuck, if you decide not to go through with everything because of them, I’ll leave you two alone…” Harry sighed in slight relief and turned to Uma.

“even if it would ruin yer plans?” Harry asked softly, laughing as Uma grumbled a bit.

“yeah yeah…if you’re happy im happy” Harry tossed his arm over Uma’s shoulder and pulled her into his side, grinning as she quietly complained at the hug.

“Thank yeh Uma” he whispered, closing his eyes as Uma sighed against him and hugged him back.

“you’re my best friend Harry, I would do anything for you” Harry smiled against her hair, squeezing her shoulder a bit before letting her go as she started to bat at his chest “Alright alright that’s enough, come on we got night shit to do” Harry snorted and shook his head a bit, grabbing his hat from the milk crate next to him and flipping it on, whistling slightly as he followed Uma off the ship.

-

You looked up from your summer history essay as a group of girls rushed up to the window, giggling to themselves as they pointed out whatever it was they were talking about.

‘oh right’ you mentally sighed, closing your book and packing it away, knowing that the study hall you were in was going to be filled with the laughter of these girls for who knows how long ‘the new vks’

You spared a glance back at the girls, sighing wistfully to yourself as they smiled amongst each other.

What you would give to have friends like that, but you had always been closed in on yourself and always froze up when someone tried to talk to you, that you had never gotten the chance to make friends.

You shrugged your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the study hall “where to go now” you whispered to yourself, taking out your pocket watch and smiling slightly at it, rubbing your thumb against the wheel before popping it open.

Six hours, forty-five minutes, and seven seconds.

You would meet your soulmate today.

You closed the watch and held it against your chest, letting out a giggly sigh and walking towards the other end of the dorms to get to the other study hall so you would write your essay in peace.

Behind you, you heard king Ben talking, taking a glance back you saw a flash of a scarlet red coat pass by the entrance to the hallway you had just entered. You brushed it off and looked back in front of you.

-

One and a half hours, ten minutes, and forty seconds.

Harry stared anxiously at his watch, his foot tapping rapidly against the floor of his new room. “you know if you just sit and stare at that thing it's not going to go any faster” Gil offered, setting his new laptop down and sitting next to Harry, reaching out to close the watch.

Harry blinked back into reality, pouting at Gil slightly. Gil just gave him a look and pushed the watch towards Harry's chest “sitting in here won't help you find them either, go explore or something, you might find them easier” Harry huffed and grabbed his watch, sticking it in his pocket and walking out of the room “you’ll thank me later!”

-

You groaned a bit as you rolled your shoulders, you had finished your essay, along with a handful of other projects, and had decided you needed a break. So it was off to your “secret” spot near the dorms, it was well hidden by the forest and you had to cross a hanging bridge to get to it so hardly anyone knew about it.

You shrugged off your top and pants, kicking off your shoes and setting everything next to your towel and watch before diving in.

Underneath the water your body shimmered, your legs turning to a transitioning (f/c) and (f/c) tail with a strong fabric-like tail, scales the same color as your tail appeared next to your eyes and trailed down your cheeks, your shoulders being covered as well.

You let out a soft sigh as you swam through the clear water, trailing your fingers across the smooth rocks that lay at the bottom of the lake.

You picked up a particularly shiny clear and black one, swimming back up to the surface and examining it, humming to yourself as you waded through the water.

-There once was a ship that put to sea/ And the name of that ship was the Billy o' Tea/ The winds blew hard, her bow dipped down/ Blow my bully boys blow-

You started to sing one of your favorite sea shanties aloud, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift across the surface of the lake as your voice echoed around you.

- Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing' is done/ We'll take our leave and go-

-

Harry sighed quietly as he walked around the grounds of Auradon prep, tubbing his thumb against the smooth metal of his watch as the comforting -tick tock- of its gears rang in his ears.

He sighed again as he stopped in the middle of a pathway, running his hand through his messy hair. He pulled out the watch and quirked his brow.

three minutes, forty seconds.

Suddenly something caught his attention, he turned his head towards the forest, his lips separating as a lovely drifted towards him.

He started walking towards it, entering into the forest and pushing past the bushes that covered the main path. He quickly walked over the hanging bridge that led him directly to a sparkly crystal-clear lake.

And wading in the water of that lake was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or heard.

- No line was cut, no whale was freed/ An' the captain's mind was not on greed/ But he belonged to the Whaleman's creed/ She took that ship in tow -

As he walked closer to the mermaid, he didn’t notice the timer on the watch tick down to the seconds.

3…2...1.

Suddenly the mermaid looked up from their rock and gasped, her glowing (e/c) eyes locking with his ocean blue.

The ticking stopped.

The mermaid squealed in embarrassment and ducked under the water, Harry quickly snapped out of his stupor and ran towards the edge of the lake, kneeling at it and looking around for the mermaid who had suddenly disappeared. “where did yeh go?” he whispered, yelping and falling back on his butt as the mermaid suddenly popped up in front of his face and tried to reach for her items behind Harry.

He watched her struggle to reach toward them before she groaned and flopped on the ground, her top half lying pitifully on the dry ground as her tail angrily hit the surface of the water.

Harry let out a soft chuckle and looked behind him, spotting a gold pocket watch resting just next to a (f/c) towel, he glanced back at the mermaid for a moment before reaching out for the watch and gently handing it to the mermaid.

She quickly popped it open and gasped.

Harry watched as the mermaid just stared at her watch, then slowly look up at him. He took out his watch and popped it open, stopping as he realized the clock had stopped.

00:00:00:00:00:00 blinked rapidly

Harry looked back at the mermaid and turned his watch towards her. She reached out slightly, looking at him for permission to take it.

He pushed it into her hand and she set it next to her watch, a smile growing on her face as the blinking of the timers synchronized perfectly. Only soulmate watches could sync perfectly as they did.

She looked back up at Harry with a wide grin, Harry's heart fluttering like crazy as she did.

“I found you” she whispered in the most melodic voice, squeaking a bit as Harry stood and started to strip out of his clothes “what are you doing?!” she yelled, pushing off the edge and diving down under the water a bit, only her eyes and the top of her head above the water.

“joinin’ yeh,” Harry responded simply, kicking off his shoes and pants and tossing them aside with his shirt, jacket, and belts.

Once he was down to just his underwear, he jumped into the water next to his soulmate, closing his eyes as he sank into the surprisingly deep lake.

Almost immediately after he jumped in, arms wrapped around his waist and kept him afloat. Harry cracked open his eyes to see the glowing ones of his soulmate, their pupils slanted as they stared back at him.

Harry let a smile grow on his lips as he and his soulmate floated under the water. Then Harry's body proceeded to realize he was underwater and that he needed air.

His soulmate watched him look up, realize what he was doing, and grabbed his face. Harry looked at them and let out a muffled squeak as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He snapped his eyes shut and felt his face burn with a blush as she licked his lips and opened his mouth, breathing into him.

She pulled back and giggled, which oddly wasn’t muffled. Harry opened one of his eyes and pouted slightly as his soulmate covered her mouth with one of her hands as she laughed at his expression.

He took a breath to say something, but then realized he was breathing underwater. He gave her a wide-eyed look and she giggled again.

“mermaid kisses can let the person breath and speak underwater” her voice purred, grabbing his hands and pulling him up to the surface. Harry shook his head, smirking as his soulmate squealed a bit as the water droplets hit her.

“I’m Harry” Harry spoke first, swimming slightly closer to his soulmate and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek “Harry Hook.”

“(y-y/n) (l/n)” she squeaked slightly, Harry smirking at the heat that burned against his lips as he pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“I think” he pulled back and pressed a kiss to her other cheek “you and I are going to get along very well~” he purred, grinning as (y/n) set her forehead against his.

“whys that?” she hummed, pushing her lips together as Harry tightly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

“a pirate and a mermaid? What's a better match than tha’?”

-end-

Short but sweet, might do another one of the suggestions! Thanks for reading!

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[heroloverangel]

Ice Cream

Ingenium will always be a great hero.

The parking lot is crowded when you arrive with your husband. It’s a warm day, and the new ice cream shop has a line stretching out the door into the grocery store’s sidewalk next door. You scan the list as you head towards the entrance and debate on whether you want chicken or beef tonight, and you’re distracted by two little girls running across the pavement with each other. The younger one looks about three, laughing wildly right up until she trips on a crack and tumbles to the ground directly in front of you. Her sister looks a bit older and immediately runs back to the crying girl, and you watch Tensei fall back into his role as a hero without a second thought.

“Are you alright?” He leans forward in his chair to look for any injuries. “What’s your name?”

“A-Ami. And she’s Miki.” she stammers through her tears, the bigger girl helping her to her feet and staring curiously at the pipes on his arms.

He smiles at them. “I’m Iida. Do you know where your parents are?” Miki nods at points at the line.

“Daddy said he’d get us ice cream if we were good and waited for him.”

“That’s nice of him. It looks like you scraped your knees, but I bet the ice cream will help.” He looks towards the shop and you can tell he’s trying to pick out their father. “I’m sure if you tell your dad, he’ll get you patched up and back to playing in no time. Can you tell me his name?”

The question is unnecessary as a man jogs towards you with a pair of ice cream cones, calling the girls’ names. “What are you two up to? I hope you’re not bothering these people.”

Miki shakes her head. “We’re not, I promise! Ami fell down and her knees are broke. But look, Daddy! Mr. Iida has funny metal on his arms just like the hero you told us about!” Their father finally turns his head and takes a good look at your husband, putting some facts together. The little girls take the opportunity to pull their treats out of his hands while he’s distracted.

“You’re not Ingenium by any chance, are you?”

Tensei nods. “I was, before I retired.”

He lets out a surprised laugh. “No kidding! I’m sure you don’t remember this, but about six years ago there was a bus crash in the middle of Naruhata. You’re the one who pulled me out and got me to the hospital.” He shakes his hand with enthusiasm. “If it weren’t for you…” He smiles and looks at his daughters, happily eating their ice cream without a thought to Ami’s skinned knees. “...my girls wouldn’t be here.” Ingenium, always such a laid back hero, waves off his praise but the man insists. “No really, I’d love to have a chat if you’ve got the time.”

Tensei glances at you and you gesture for him to go. “Stay a bit and talk. I can handle the produce section on my own.” You give him a pat on the shoulder and head inside. You remember to grab a few last minute items and make sure to stop by the pharmacy section for vitamins before you pay and rejoin his group. They’ve moved into the shade, and the girls are standing on either side of your husband asking questions as fast as their little mouths can move.

“Do your pipes turn on when you sneeze really hard?”

“Can you start a fire with them?”

“Do they rust when you go swimming?”

“Have you ever gone really really fast and hit a wall? I did that once. It hurts.”

You listen to them with a huge grin on your face for a few more minutes before you step in to rescue him. He tells them goodbye, shaking their father’s hand once again and heads for the car with you. Your grin widens when you realize you’re being followed by the delighted shouts of the girls thanking him for being such a great hero. You notice that the smile never leaves his face even once you get home and it warms you heart. He’s always been a little too humble and never did it for the praise, but it’s nice to get a solid reminder of all the good he’s done.

“Good day, huh?” He seems distracted and blinks at you for a moment before nodding. “Are you thinking about how adorable those girls were, too?” Tensei laughs and scratches the back of his neck, his thoughts too obvious.

“Yeah. You know, I’ve been thinking…” His gaze flicks from your face down to your stomach, and you can read his mind. You’ve been together for years now, and for the past few months you’ve been talking more seriously about the idea of kids. He’s made steady progress with his physical therapy, but the doctors have suggested that his injury could make things more difficult and you might need a bit of medical assistance to conceive. It’s a lot to think about, but you keep coming back to it more and more lately.

You stop and run your fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve actually been thinking, too. Will you grab that bag off the table for me?” He moves to hand you the bag but pauses when he looks down at the items inside. Iron supplements? Prenatal vitamins? A pregnancy test?

His eyes go wide as he stares back at you. “You’re pregnant?”

You laugh sheepishly. “Well, we’re about to find out.” The next ten minutes are the longest in your life as he steers you toward the bathroom and you’re forced to wait for the test. You’re not surprised when you see the result, but the sense of pure joy that wells up in you makes you feel like you might burst and you throw your arms around your husband’s shoulders. “It’s positive! Tensei, we’re having a baby!”

His expression mirrors your own and he pulls you in for a tight hug. At the moment, nothing else matters beyond your little growing family. You feel so lucky, knowing that your child has such an amazing hero to look up to.

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 16

-----------------------

It was 2006, one of the last seasons for Beacon Hills Girls lacrosse. The other girls on the team and I fought hard but it would be over by the time my senior year rolled around. We thought if we had made it to the state championships, we would save it. Here’s to hoping. As team captain, all eyes were on me to make the season great. We were lined up on the field, ready for the toss up. I stared into the eyes of the opposing player, the girl’s eyes were determined. But so were mine, I glanced to the side at the bleachers. There was Uncle Noah, Stiles, and Scott, cheering me on. I was just happy Stiles came today.

I looked back up, just in time for the pearl toss, I scooped it from the air, immediately shoving passed the opposing player. I ran down the field, narrowly missing players looking to tackle. I threw the ball towards an open offensive player just as someone slammed me from the side. I grunted as I hit the ground, hearing the crowd wince. I got myself up on my arms and looked down the field. My player was able to get through the other team’s defense and scored the game winning goal. Coach Finstock laughed loudly, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd. I stood up, raising my crosse in the air and shouted into the sky. I ran back to the bench, congratulating my teammates. But now I needed to see him. I pushed through the crowd, I looked around. As I got through the crowd, I was left alone. I was staring out into the woods. An eerie feeling came over me. There was something out there. 

“Hey!” Michael’s smiling face came into my vision, causing me to smile. 

“Hey.” I smiled, looking back at the crowd, “Have you seen Derek?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at me, “Who’s Derek?” I paused, asking myself the same question. 

“I don’t know.”

-

“So let me get this straight,” I said into the phone. I was on the phone with Stiles getting a recap of what had happened over the last couple days, “You stole a police transport vehicle-”

“We put gas in it!” 

“Of course, you did. You stole a transport van, filled it with gas, kidnapped Jackson to talk to him, left him in the woods. Jackson’s father, a lawyer, has issued two restraining orders against you and Scott.” I made sure to separate the kanima and Jackson. “Found out the kanima is being used by a ‘master’. Is that it?” Derek raised his eyebrows at the conversation.

“I was also grounded from Scott.” He added. 

“Unfortunate.” 

“When are you coming home?” He asked, hushing his voice a little, “I’m all for you living out your best werewolf life but I would rather you be home.” I motioned for the group of Derek, Erica, and Isaac to go ahead of me. 

“When I have the courage to face your dad. Or when my lie that I’m staying at a friend’s house doesn’t work anymore. Whatever comes first.” I sighed, “I’ll try to come home soon. I need to apologize.” After our goodbyes, I hung up the phone. 

After I stepped into the railway car, I made it just in time for our “pack meeting” to start. 

“So, why do we need their help?” Isaac asked. 

“Because it’s harder to kill than I thought, and I still don’t know who it is.” Derek said impatiently. 

“And they do?”

“They might. Which is why I need one of you to get on their good side.”

“Mmm. Scott or Stiles?” Erica hummed flirtatiously. Honestly, I don’t think she realizes she’s barking up the wrong tree, no pun intended. Scott was more focused on Allison than his own life and Stiles was in a persistent pursuit of Miss Lydia Martin.

“Either.” Derek sighed, probably fed up with her new found flirtatious nature.

“Good luck with that.” I said under my breath, causing the group to look at me, “What? The last time they saw you, you broke into Scott’s house and tried to kill them.” Isaac titled his head to the side and nodded a little in agreement. 

Isaac turned to Derek, “You know, the full moon's coming, Derek.”

"I'm aware of that.” Derek said irritably, he opened a large wooden chest, searching around for something. He pulled out dark, rusted chains. 

“Oh my.” Erica lifted up a bundle of them, “These look comfortable.” She said sarcastically. He quickly took them from her grasp and put them with the rest that he pulled out of the chest. 

“You said you were gonna teach us to change whenever we wanted.” Isaac said warily, eyeing the chains. 

“There hasn't been time.” He said. And truly he hadn’t had time. I had really been training myself on how to control the chains with what I was calling exposure therapy. Getting really mad and controlling the change before turning so I would be less likely to kill someone during a spout of road rage. 

“But if you have to lock us up during the full moon, that means... That means you're alone against the Argents.” Isaac said. 

Derek closed the lid of the chest, “They haven't found us.”

“Yet.“ Kid had a point, “So, how about we forget about the Kanima?”

“We. Can't!” He shouted in frustration. He sighed, “There was something about the way Gerard looked at it... He wasn't afraid, at all. I don't know what he knows, or what he's planning. But, I'm sure about one thing-- we have to find it, first.” 

“With Scott’s group.” I added, “We are stronger in numbers, that’s how the hunters work and that’s how we should work.” 

-

On the drive home to the Stilinski house, I really had to convince myself not to turn back around and go back to the depot. But Uncle Noah deserved an apology. He had taken me in, given me a fresh start and asked that I be safe in return. Yet here I was, fighting a lizard man with the threat of hunters on my tail, not to mention that I was a movie monster. I parked in the driveway next to his police cruiser and closed my eyes. My emotions were running high and it was hard to keep my eyes from turning red. 

“Breathe.” Derek’s voice echoed through my head, “It’s going to be okay.”

I took a deep breath in and out and when I opened my eyes, the red was gone. Now or never. 

After closing the front door behind me, I walked quietly into the kitchen where I found him. He was leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He looked exhausted. He looked up from his cup a little surprised. 

“(Y/N)...” 

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before answering, “Uncle Noah...”

“Is...Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” I said quickly, “Everything’s....” I let out a deep breath, “Everything’s not fine. I’m so sorry about the things I said.”

He smiled a little, “It’s fine.” 

“It-It’s not fine though. You’re just looking out for me, I should appreciate that more. You’ve done more than anyone in my situation could have asked for. You opened up your home, bought me clothes, gave me my own room. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“No, no.” He said, setting down his coffee mug, “I did have to do that. Besides promising your parents that I would look after you, I did this because you’re like one of my own. You’re like the daughter I never had. I love you.” His eyes held a special twinkle. One that you could only find in people that truly loved you. 

Tears prickled at my eyes, my lips trembling, “I love you too.” 

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. I gripped onto the material of his shirt and cried. The first time I had really cried since everything happened with my parents. It just felt like my eyes had been built up and after a while, I was crying because of Uncle Noah, because of my parents, because of the torture I went through. I felt like I had no one to vent to like how I could my mom and dad because they weren’t here anymore. It felt nice to cry and feel safe because I knew that Uncle Noah loved me, no matter what. I just wished that if me being a werewolf did come out, he would still love me like his own. Even the thought of it scared me. 

“It’s alright.” Uncle Noah stroked my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, “Everything gonna be okay.” 

But it’s not okay. 

-

Just a drive to clear my head, that’s all I needed. Stiles was ringing my phone off the hook which really wasn’t helping with my anxiety right now. I looked over to reach for my phone and when I looked back there was someone standing in the middle of the road. 

“SHIT!” I screamed, turning my wheel harshly, sending me off the road and into a ditch. I slammed on the brakes, making my body slam forward into the steering wheel. I felt the cracking of my ribs against the hard plastic of the wheel. Pain washed over me in waves as I tried to catch my bearings. I felt dizzy and nauseous on account of the whiplash. I looked back towards the road and the mystery person was gone. It was around that time that my airbag went off, slapping me in the face. 

“Nice.” I grunted, opening up my car door. I turned to look out when I froze. The kanima was staring me right in the eyes. But it didn’t make any sense, unless the kanima can turn without moonlight. 

“Jackson...” I whispered, “Jackson, if you’re in there I need you to listen to me.” I swallowed, watching the creature tilt his head to the side. It seemed to recognize my voice. 

“I can help you, Jackson. I don’t want to hurt you. Just please... Don’t...”

“(Y/N)...” The creature’s voice said. I didn’t even know it was capable of speech. But the voice wasn’t exactly reptilian, as if that was possible. It wasn’t Jackson’s voice either. It was a voice that seemed so familiar, but not. 

“Well... That’s not good.” I said, just starting to move to get to the other side of the car when I felt Jackson’s whip-like tail slice across my side. 

“God....dammit.” My voice was strained since my entire body became paralyzed within seconds. The creature reached out, pulling me out of the car. 

Ah yes, a roadside killing for the kanima, how wonderful. Okay, maybe thoughts like this weren’t the best. This is how I died, alone on the side of the road. I took a deep breath, watching the world go by as Jackson’s scaly hands dragged me down into the ditch further. 

A loud roar cut through the air and I felt Jackson drop me, hissing before I heard him take off into the woods. Derek’s face filled my vision and relief washed over me.

“It’s alright, I got you.” He said, picking me in his arms. I saw my car out of the corner of my eye. 

“Is she totaled?” I asked. 

“No, she’s fine.” He chuckled, “Your transmissions probably shot though.” 

“Awesome.” I groaned, closing my eyes. 

- By the time I woke up, it was later in the day and I was back home on the couch. With Derek and Uncle Noah... talking. My eyes widened and I sat up, I hissed in pain and laid back down. My head was still killing me. 

“Woah, slow down there, kid.” Uncle Noah came to my side, kneeling down beside me on the couch. He smiled and smoothed back my hair from my face, “I thought I told you when you saw a deer in the road, you can’t swerve. Just slow down and if you hit it, you hit it. It’s sad, but there are more deer, there’s only one you.” I glanced up at Derek, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed not at all concerned around Uncle Noah. 

Uncle Noah followed my line of sight and smiled, “It’s okay, secret’s out.” My heart almost stopped, why in the hell would Derek tell him I was a werew-

“And it’s okay. I am... okay with you seeing Derek.” I blinked at him. 

“What?” 

“Is that where you’ve been? At a friend’s house.” He stood up and chuckled, patting Derek on the shoulder, “Derek, here, explained it all to me.” 

“I told him that you didn’t want to disappoint him by dating someone who was a murder suspect.” Derek said, smiling a bit at the sheriff. 

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine now. Just for the future, you can always tell me anything. No matter what.” He smiled reassuringly. Well... I guess that was one thing out of the way. 

“Your car’s in the shop, it’ll be there a day or two. So for now, Derek has volunteered to take you to work.” Uncle Noah smiled, then looked down at his phone, “I gotta take this.” He excused himself from the room and left out the front door. I sat back up again, looking up at Derek’s with my eyebrows raised. 

“How did that whole situation go?” Referring to ex-con Derek Hale telling the chief of police that he is dating his pseudo-daughter while she was unconscious in his arms. 

Derek shrugged, coming to sit on the edge of the couch, “Well, I was threatened with the gun at first. But after explaining some things... He understood.” He reached out, holding my hand, “He also said he was glad that we were friends again.” 

“Does that mean my parents told him that I wasn’t friends with you anymore and not to bring you up?” 

“Seems like it.” He sighed, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. 

“God.” I breathed out, feeling tension rising in my shoulders, “I understand why they did what they did but... They had a total disregard of the consequences. What were they going to say when I asked what happened to you, would they tell me they told you to go away or would they lie again? A majority of my life was stolen from me and when I try to remember my old lacrosse games where you could have been there... The only face I see is Michael’s. And I think he knew something.” 

“We’re gonna figure it out.” He said. I moved closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. 

Derek then explained the events of the dad, the kanima attacked Scott, Stiles, Erica, and Allison in detention and he had agreed to not kill the creature. 

“Why did the kanima go after me? Why didn’t he kill me immediately.” 

“You don’t have to cover for him anymore, I know it’s Jackson.” 

I sighed, “Good, because I didn’t like keeping it from you.” 

“Yeah, why did you keep it from me?” He asked, looking down at me. 

I gave him a surprised look, “Well, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you would have killed him? Yeah, he’s a douchebag, but that’s a little much. From what you said, finding out Jackson was adopted at birth and that he literally had to be removed from his mother’s dead body... Maybe that’s what caused the bite to mutate.” 

“It’s possible.” The sound of the door slamming shut and the sound of familiar awkward footsteps made us both look up. Stiles halted in the living room, looking me over. I’m sure I looked like a wreck, still kinda felt like it, but the cracked ribs and head injury had healed by now. 

Stiles pressed his lips together tightly, moving with purpose. He fell to his knees in front of the couch, wrapping his arms around me. Trying not to cry for the second time today, I hugged him, resting my cheek on top of his head. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. Stiles hold tightened at my words but he didn’t say anything. Derek nodded at me, making his way out of the house. Leaving Stiles and I alone. 

----------------

Read part 17 here!

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[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 21 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/SKYBOUND

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The months after the blizzard were full of bliss, but now the reader needs to get back to work. What happens when Judith finds a mask belonging to one of Alpha’s people? What does this mean to the survivors? How is the relationship going with Negan?

Word Count: 5512

Warning: Swearing, Fighting

Song I Wrote To: “Battlecry” by Jordan Mackampa

Note: So yes, there is the time jump in this! However, throughout the next chapters, I will reference some flashbacks from both Negan and the MC’s POVs. Remember from now until the end, we are changing a bit from season 10, but there will be some of the bigger moments present. With the new episodes coming up, I just want to make it clear that this story will finish with “Certain Doom” I have no plans to continue the plot into Season 10C or Season 11. ALL ASL IN ITALICS

————

Winter wasn't easy.

Food stores were low and with the Kingdom out of commission and the forests barren, it was a harsh few months. The snow came in waves, blanketing the ground with fresh white powder only to be turned to slush and ice with the rain the next day.

At least there was one good thing to come out of it.

Negan was out of his cell when it got to be too much on certain nights.

Whenever a particularly cold front came through, he was granted permission to stay at your place for the night as long as you returned him to his jail in the morning. Provided that extra blankets and warm food were supplied, you agreed to the terms.

Those cold nights became the very thing that held you together. Negan has been right, body heat was incredibly beneficial. Every waking moment of the day, Negan was on your mind. His hands, his body, that damn smile of his too. However, while you enjoyed the sex and the feeling of him asleep beside you, you were in love with the conversation just as much.

You also began to learn more about his life before the Apocalypse. His life as a gym teacher, his love of vintage t-shirts, and even some things about Lucille as well. Never did you bring her up on your own, but you also never shot him down when he did either. Just as he never told you to not talk about Sasha.

Sasha became a regular topic when you began talking about the past. You missed her so much and all you wanted was to keep her memory alive. Talking about her to Negan helped with that. He would then tell you about his time with the Saviors and how he actually liked a lot of the people who he worked with.

Simon was an asshole, but Negan admitted that he was one of the smartest men he had ever met. Dwight was a nightmare at times, but still, Negan oddly admired his heart.

You weren’t surprised to learn some of this, but you were shocked to learn just how protective and jealous he could be when he wanted to.

Daryl had finally moved back into Alexandria with Lydia, Daryl moving into the Grimes’ basement, and Lydia into your guestroom. You would spend as much time with Daryl as possible whether it was for personal reasons or because you were still on edge about the Whisperers.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Negan who was starting to get suspicious. He even asked you if you and Daryl had once been involved.

“You’re joking, right?” you asked when he had brought up the subject one day as he was helping with repairs to one of the walls.

“Is that such an odd question to ask?”

“Kind of,” you said. “Negan, Daryl is like a brother to me. We’ve never...absolutely not.”

“I just find it hard to believe that you never found yourself being with anyone since this whole shit show started.”

“Didn’t have much of a chance,” you had said. “As I have said before, I’m better off alone.”

“Yeah, well don’t expect me to leave you alone any time soon, alright?” Negan had said as he finished his job. You had nodded, but something was telling you that he couldn’t keep that promise, nobody could keep promises anymore.

Your injury had fully healed just as Negan said it would, but it left an angry scar that still stung on the colder days. It wasn’t pretty, but none of your scars were, they were just part of the new world and you had to get used to them.

You were trying to stay positive as the months went by. Rosita eventually had her daughter, Judith became a stronger fighter, and you were starting to get nervous.

Everything was too calm.

It seemed that the Whisperers had gone underground for the harsher months of winter. However, like all predatory species. They would soon be returning to their hunting grounds, you were sure of it.

Domestic life was starting to be too much. Your nightmares were getting worse and on the nights that Negan lay beside you, he would wake you with a hard shake in order to be able to snap you out of sleep. You would never tell him what plagued your dreams and he never asked, but you knew he wanted to.

You also knew that he wanted to move forward with you and start thinking about a future together. However, you also knew that if that were to happen, you would need to leave Alexandria. Nobody, no matter what he did, would accept Negan as part of the family and you didn’t blame them.

Still, you wanted to be able to hold his hand as you walked through the streets and kiss him in the rain, but he was still Negan and while you got to play normal on certain nights, the cell was still his home.

It was months after the blizzard that you began planning. You began to stash bags in your house. They were filled with canteens, extra clothes, extra gauze, and when you were able to get it, non-perishables. After so many years of feeling as if you had put down roots, you were slipping back into survival mode because if you had to, you were ready to leave with him.

You loved your family, but you couldn’t live without Negan. Not anymore and not after Alpha had taken so much away from everyone. You thought back to what you had told Daryl that night when he came to visit you in the infirmary after the blizzard. You had told him that you would fight for your family even if it meant betraying Negan.

Now, you knew that wasn’t true. Negan was your life now and nothing was going to make you stop fighting for him.

And while you wanted to spend every moment with Negan, everyone knew war was imminent. Even though Alpha, Beta, and their people had gone quiet, you and everyone else knew they were still out there and so, you began to prepare.

Coco, Rosita’s daughter was just a few months old when Daryl interrupted your babysitting duties to tell you that he had spoken to Cyndie and Rachel. It was time to get ready to fight their enemies.

When Daryl announced that he would be taking people to Oceanside to prepare and learn to fight in formations with new weapons and with new strategies, there were immediate volunteers. Siddiq, Eugene, and Ro were going to be staying behind with Gabriel, but Judith and RJ would be going with their mother just as Aaron would be going as well.

You didn’t get much of a choice. You had to go as you were second in command when it came to security. You were also going because Michonne wanted time to continue the training you had been doing with her, honing your skills with your sword.

Negan wasn’t thrilled when he found out you would be leaving, but you promised him that it wouldn’t be for long and that it was necessary. You spent the night before leaving in the cell with him, curled into his side as he lulled you to sleep. You told him you would be coming back soon and asked if he could look out for Lydia when he could.

You immediately pulled Lydia under your wing. You trained her, using the new staff Alden had made for her. It was much like the one Henry once used. You taught her how to hunt and track while she helped you move around the Dead as if you were invisible. Being able to learn from one another solidified your bond quickly.

Lydia was a naturally curious young woman who wanted to hear stories about everything. You told her everything from the farm to meeting Jadis’ people for the first time. When she asked how you met Negan, you had told her one night in the quiet of your living room. Lydia had been patient the entire time as she listened.

When you were finished, she had exhaled deeply and then reached over and took your hand in hers. “I guess we both care about people capable of horrific things,” she had said and that line had stuck with you. It replayed in your head even now as you stood behind a barricade on a white sand beach, prepared to fight.

—————

Every inch of your body was coiled to a spring as your sword weighed heavily in your hand.

Aaron led the charge, he and Alden using the metal shields to stay in formation as they moved towards the old boat. Judith struck a waterlogged Walker that tried to drag itself up onto the shore. Returning to her position between you and Michonne, her wakizashi poised for battle.

Ezekiel and Jerry pulled open the door of the ship and the Dead spilled from the rusted wreckage. Walkers weren’t as sophisticated as Whisperers, but they did act as great decoys and practice for fighting the enemy.

Daryl walked along the edges of the main battle, observing and making adjustments when needed. The archers were behind, ready to fire when ordered and then, there was your group. You, Michonne, Judith, Ezekiel, Magna, and others kept your weapons raised, ready to strike.

For months, you and Michonne practiced whenever you could. She taught you different ways to hold your blade, how to use it to block, and most importantly, how to kill. Walkers were easy, but you had yet to fight an actual armed enemy.

While you wouldn’t give him a weapon, you were practicing your fight skills with Negan whenever he was in your home at night. This was more for his benefit than yours, but the two of you would take turns in practicing hand-to-hand.

Lydia would watch on with curiosity as you and Negan exchanged punches and holds. Negan would then give her tips on how to move with her weapon, how to keep balanced, and even where to strike on both Living and Dead threats.

That training came in handy now as you and Michonne moved forward, swinging your swords. The sun glinted off the metal as you fought back to back, taking the Walkers down by removing their heads from their shoulders.

Daryl joined the fight as soon as the Walkers began to overwhelm the fighters. His dual knives cut through the Walkers easily. You were so used to seeing Daryl fight long-distance with his bow just as you once excelled at with your rifle, but this was a whole new Daryl.

There was zero hesitation in his strikes and you had to keep focused on your task so you didn’t get too distracted. Moving to cover Michonne, you slashed out at a pair of Walkers who were moving in on Kelly. With a single strike, their rotting heads rolled from their bodies.

A sharp sound came from behind you as Daryl shoved a knife into a Walker’s head that tried to grab you. You didn’t have time to thank him before Alden’s spear soared over your head and you ducked. The weapon found its target and you kept moving.

Taking out the remainder of the Walkers took some time, but between every fighter on that beach, you dispatched them cleanly and without incident. The final Walker that stumbled on the beach approached you and with a hard swing, you cut its head into two, your blade sliding right down the center of its skull.

With a hard pull, you removed the sword with a huff. As the body fell to the ground, you rested your blood-soaked blade on your shoulder, trying to relieve the fatigue that plagued your biceps.

Daryl, who was standing just a few feet away, watched as your weapon lay against your shoulder and it was oddly familiar. He watched as you dropped it back down to your side, but he saw it. It was hard not to. It was as if you were holding Lucille and not Jesus’ sword.

There were still a few left inside so you jogged up to help Ezekiel clear them out as Aaron began calling out orders. Once you finished working through the remaining Dead, Ezekiel let out a tired breath.

“Nicely done,” he said and then offered his hand for a high five. You obliged and tapped your palm to his.

“You too,” you said as you scraped the blood off your sword. You then noticed that he was looking at you with a tilted head. “What? Do I have Walker blood on my face?” you asked, worried.

“No, I just noticed something,” he said.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You seem happy,” Ezekiel said.

“I am,” you said. “I didn’t think I would be able to feel this way after what happened at the fair, but all I feel is this underlying aura of happiness.”

“Are you worried that that is a bad thing?”

“I feel almost guilty to feel happiness after everything that happened. It almost feels inappropriate to feel any sense of joy, you know?”

“I do know,” he said sadly and then you immediately felt horrible.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” you trailed off when he raised his hand.

“One, you don’t need to address me with that title,” he said. “And two, it’s okay. I miss him every day, but I can also understand that he would want me to smile on occasion.”

“Henry was a good boy,” you said, reaching out to grip his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing back. “I also know that many people aren’t happy with whom you’ve chosen to love.”

“Ezekiel…” you began, but he was already speaking.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I do not care who he is. I have just missed your smile. If Negan is who it takes for you to get that light back in your eyes, so be it. I think we have all missed that even if you haven’t realized it. I know what he’s done, but I know that you also know as well.”

“I do, but I can’t help but love him.”

“And that’s okay. It’s...unorthodox, but it’s okay. The heart wants what the heart wants, (Y/N).” You didn’t hesitate to reach out and hug the man before you. If that was the way that he thought then perhaps there would be more hope for those who disagreed with your new connection with the former enemy. However, there was also the realization that many would begin to shun you just because of your relationship with Negan.

In that rust-filled ship hold, you smiled at the king who had just lost his kingdom and realized that perhaps he understood at least that part of Negan’s past. As Negan once said, he knew what it felt like to lose a kingdom.

————

On your way back to the main area of Oceanside, you ran into Luke.

“Call on line two,” he joked as he handed you the radio. You immediately knew what he meant and with a roll of your eyes, you took the walkie from him and began walking away from the masses.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” you asked.

“I have to admit,” Negan said on the other line, “I feel like a teenager sneaking into the basement to call his secret love.”

“Some things never change then,” you said with a laugh as you found a boulder to sit on as you watched the waves crash against the shore.

“No, they do not,” he said and you could tell he was smiling. That thought sent a jolt into your chest.

“What did you do to get this privilege?”

“I may have paid off this kid, Brandon,” Negan said.

“With what? Tomatoes?” you asked, amused.

“Nope, just a little life advice and maybe some instructions on how to make moonshine,” he said smugly.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned.

“You love it,” he teased.

“Mmhmm,” you said.

“Tell me about your day,” Negan said.

“We’ve been working on battle formations,” you said. “Daryl thinks that we need a stronger defense.”

“What do you think?” Negan asked.

“I think that someone needs to find me a gun so I can take Alpha out,” you admitted.

“Easy, Darlin’,” Negan said.

“Why? Why can’t I want the bitch dead?”

“Oh, you definitely can. I just think that perhaps you may wanna think it through before going all Terminator.”

“In order to do that, I’d need a gun and we are out of bullets,” you said and then your hand found its way around your neck where the old shell casing Daryl had given you hung on a chain.

“I wish I could help,” he said and then you sighed, leaning back on the boulder.

“You are helping,” you said. “You’re keeping me sane.”

“That’s a first. Especially cause I specifically remember you telling me that I drive you crazy. I think you were on top that time.”

“Wow, you are such a romantic,” you said, but you were smiling nonetheless.

“I am the best at romance, trust me.”

“Always do,” you said without hesitation.

“God, I fucking miss you,” he said.

“I miss you, too,” you said as you watched Aaron take down another water-logged Walker.

“What else is going on?” Negan asked.

“Carol is comin’ back today,” you said, turning your gaze to the horizon.

“I’m sure Daryl is thrilled about that,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ah, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed those two? I clocked it the first time I saw them together.”

“There’s nothing going on between Daryl and Carol,” you said with a dismissive scoff.

“Right, and I’m the damn Pope,” Negan said.

“No, you’re not. The hat wouldn’t look good on you,” you argued.

“Uh, I look good in everything, (Y/N). Don’t lie to yourself.”

“This is true,” you agreed, trying not to smile.

“Speaking of,” Negan said. “What are you wearing?”

“And we are changing the subject now,” you said.

“Buzzkill,” he countered.

“Perv,” you shot back.

“Oh, shut up, you know you love me.”

“Lord help me, but I do,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Knew it,” he said. You smiled, but then turned the conversation onto something else.

“How’s Lydia?” you asked, worried about the teen.

“She seems okay,” Negan said. “I talked to her this morning. She misses you,” he said.

“Yeah, I miss her, too,” you said. “I’ll be home soon, though. Is anyone messin’ with her?” you asked, concerned she was going to be met with the negativity that should only be reserved for her mother and her former family.

“Just the odd dirty look behind her back so far,” Negan assured you. “Nothin’ she can’t handle.”

“You don’t know that,” you said. “She hasn’t had to be around people beside Whisperers. Let alone people her own age.”

“Well, she’s got you now, so I know she’s gonna be okay,” Negan said gently and you let out a breath, letting his words soothe you.

“Just please keep an eye on her when you can please,” you asked him.

“Don’t worry, I got her,” he promised. You were relishing in the sound of his voice when you realized that you needed to get going. You were then wishing for a time machine to go back to when unlimited minutes were available on cell phones. “What are you thinkin’?” he asked.

“That I should get goin’,” you said with a sigh. “I know Luke wanted me to help him set up dinner with Jules.”

“Who’s Luke again?” he asked.

“Uh, the violin guy. New group,” you explained.

“Right…” Negan trailed off.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’, just… Is he keepin’ his hands to himself?” Negan asked and you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. So, instead of calming his nerves, you decided to have some fun.

“Nope, he is definitely not,” you said nonchalantly. “In fact, we’ve already had a steamy make-out session and Cyndie has agreed to marry us at sunset. Daryl is giving me away and Jude is gonna be the flower girl. I think it will be a wonderful ceremony. I’ll send you a piece of cake.”

Negan was quiet for a moment and you figured he was either rolling his eyes or staring off in the distance as he sighed deeply. Eventually, he pressed the talk button and said, “You really need to work on your sense of humor.”

“And you need to get back to work before Brandon realizes that you don't actually know how to make moonshine,” you said.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“See you soon.”

“I love you,” he said softer and you leaned your head against the radio.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, and then, static returned to the channel.

You let the radio rest in your hand for a moment as you thought of him. Being together for all those months without any break was almost like living a different life and now it felt alien to be away from him.

Hopping off the boulder, you began to head back to find Luke. “Who was that?” Jumping at the voice, you turned to see Connie and Kelly behind you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you swore, signing as you did. Connie snorted. 

“Nope, just me,” Connie signed and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Well, who was that?” Kelly asked. 

“Nobody,” you said with a shrug, but after knowing the sisters for a while now, you knew they saw right through your bullshit. 

“Right,” signed Connie. With a sigh you relented.

“It was my boyfriend,” you explained. Connie and Kelly both raised their brows at that. 

“Why do I feel like that wasn’t a positive reaction?” Kelly signed to her sister. 

“Because,” Connie began, “they are with Negan.”

“Who’s Negan?” Kelly asked you and then you told your story. Connie had to remind you of a few signs such as “baseball bat” and “murderous widow”. You managed to finish without straying from the main train of thought and when you did, Kelly whistled low. “Shit,” she said. 

“Tell me about it,” you said. 

--------

After helping Luke and Jules set up the fire pit, you went in search of Aaron, but you found Daryl and Carol first. 

“Look who’s back,” you said as you approached Carol. She reached out to hug you tightly.

“Good to see you,” Carol said. 

“You too,” you said with a smile and then tapped your fist against Daryl’s. It was then that Negan’s comment came back to you. You couldn’t help but try to see what he was seeing when he looked at the duo. Perhaps he was right after all. 

“What?” Daryl asked

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but he was still looking at you with narrowed eyes through his messy hair. 

“Right,” he said. “We were just talkin’ about Maggie.”

“Anyone heard from her lately?” you asked as you began to walk beside them. 

“Not yet,” Daryl said. “She has been checking in less and less lately.”

“Are you worried?” you asked and then turned to Carol, “Is he worried?”

“He’s Daryl,” Carol said, causing the man on her left to roll his eyes. 

“I hate when the two of you are together,” he muttered and Carol hooked her arm in his, playful leaning her head on his shoulder.

He let her of course and you could just hear Negan saying, “I told you so, Teach,” in your mind. You hated when he was right. 

“You worried about her findin’ out about Negan?” Carol asked and you shot Daryl a look. 

“Yeah, I told her,” Daryl said. “You ain’t really making it a secret.” 

“Guess not,” you sighed. “I don’t know, Carol. I don’t really want to imagine what her reaction would be. The woman scares me enough.” 

“Ya weren’t that close,” Daryl said. 

“Close enough,” you said.

You and Maggie had an odd relationship. While you were close with both Glenn and Beth, you and Maggie were never particularly close enough to be considered good friends. You had each other’s backs and you cared for her, but you never really knew what she was thinking. 

“I think she’d hit you,” Carol said casually. 

“Thank you, Carol. Your support is incredible,” you quipped and she just gave you a wink. 

“Come on, we have bigger things to worry about, right?” Carol asked. 

“You got that right,” Michonne said as she jogged up to you three. She carried something in her hand and when she raised it, Carol froze at Daryl’s side. It was one of the Whisperer’s masks. “We need to talk.”

--------

“It washed downstream,” Rachel said as she looked at the mask on the table. You and the leaders were standing around one of the tables in the main meeting room trying to figure out what to do next. “It could have been from months ago.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” said Michonne. 

“Thoughts?” Carol asked, looking at her friend. 

“It could be something, but it could be nothing.” 

“We’ve agreed to her damn borders,” Daryl said from his spot next to Cyndie. 

“Which we shouldn’t have done,” you added. 

“I agree,” said Carol. 

“And then what? She kills more of us?” Michonne said. “It’s not that simple and you know it.” Carol was quiet then, stewing in her own thoughts about the woman who murdered her son. 

“We need to tell Hilltop and Alexandria,” Enid pointed out. She and Alden had taken on roles of leadership along with Ezekiel at Hilltop. 

“I’ll go call Gabriel,” Daryl said as he grabbed the radio and left the room to contact Alexandria. You were staring at the mask before you and you remembered a moment from a few months ago...

It was the middle of the night and you were out walking the streets of Alexandria, trying to shake off your nightmares. The weather was better so Negan was back in his cell. You had begun to walk to him, only to be sidetracked by the sound of the windmill. You stood there in the dark, staring up at the moving blades and a feeling crept up your spine.

It was almost as if someone was watching you. Scanning the darkness, you only saw shapes that were slightly illuminated by the moonlight. Still, that feeling followed you as you continued to pace around the community. Eventually, you found yourself at the stables, stroking the horses to calm yourself. You had been able to not think about the Whisperers for moments at a time, but in the dark of night, you could only think about the way they moved and the way they whispered to one another. 

Looking down at that mask with its hollow eyes now made you feel sick. It was as if it was a message from Beta, telling you that he always knew where you were, where Lydia was. While Alpha scared you, Beta was who your nightmares were about. Alpha was smart, cunning, and ruthless, but Beta was her sword and Beta was going to be the one that struck first, you were sure of it. 

“(Y/N)?” Enid said, snapping you out of your memory. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, not looking at her. “Excuse me,” you said before following Daryl out of the room and back into the fresh air of Oceanside. 

You didn’t look back as you kept moving towards the water, taking in deep breaths of the salty air. You tried to focus on the waves and how they crashed into one another on the shore, but it was hard to think of anything that didn’t send your heart into a panic.

Your hand gripped your sword at your side and you felt as if your fingers were about to break, but you tried to steady yourself.

It was just a mask.

Except, it wasn’t.

You felt a nudge at your back and turned to see Dog standing behind you. Connie was walking up behind him, giving you a friendly smile. You smiled back, scratching Dog behind his ears. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“Fine,” you said. 

“I did not mean to call your boyfriend out like that earlier,” she said with a frown. You waved her off. 

“It’s okay, Connie,” you said. “He’s not a secret, at least I’m trying not to make him that.”

“He is lucky to have someone who cares for him that deep,” she signed. 

“Thanks,” you said, turning your eyes to the setting sun. Connie got your attention again as she began signing. 

“Are you going home?” she asked.

“I might have too,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t like Lydia being there alone.” 

“She is a good kid,” Connie said. “I can see that you care about her.” You nodded, agreeing with Connie’s statement. You also knew that Connie had a soft spot for the teenager as well. She had been with Daryl when they rescued Lydia and Henry from the Whisperer camp and brought them back to Alexandria and then the fair. You also knew that Connie felt guilty for what happened to Henry, you all did. 

“I’m not sure how that happened,” you said. “We just connected.”

“You know,” she continued, “you would be a great parent.”

“Easy there, Connie,” you said with raised brows. 

“Just saying,” she said with a shrug. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it before, becoming a parent. You knew that your friends had done it. Maggie, Rosita, Aaron, and of course Carol, but you never saw yourself in that light. At least not until you found Alexandria and began to take care of Judith when Rick was still around. He trusted you with both of his kids and then Aaron did as well with Gracie.

As a teacher, you loved teaching and taking care of kids, but after Elliot’s death, you shied away from the possibility of ever taking care of one of your own. However, now, with Negan in the picture, perhaps taking care of one wouldn't be that bad. Especially if it was Lydia. 

“Does he love you?” Connie asked after a moment. 

“He does,” you answered easily. “But it’s complicated.” Connie shook her head then. 

“There is a reason that the past stays behind us, (Y/N),” Connie said. 

“Not after what he did,” you said with a meaningful look. 

“Nobody is a saint. That was taken from all of us as soon as the first Dead began to walk.” Connie then reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tightly in her own. 

“You’re wise,” you said and Connie scoffed and then let go so she could use her hands again. 

“No, I just know how to see people in a different light,” she explained. 

“How?”

“I try to see them as people who make mistakes, and not mistakes masked as people,” she said and you smiled at that. 

“Thanks, Connie,” you said and you really meant it. 

“Anytime.”

-------

You were heading back towards the cabin that you were sharing with Daryl and his dog when you ran into Judith.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, concerned.

“Tomorrow,” you said, already having decided that you would ride for Alexandria the following morning. Judith frowned then, her attention on her boots. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m worried about Negan,” she admitted.

“Why?” you asked, kneeling down so you could see her better.

“People are angry,” she said with a sigh. Her hat was low as she tried to avoid your eyes. You reached out and pushed it off her head, taking her shoulders in your hands. She looked at you with those eyes that reminded you so much of Shane. Regardless of what that man did, he helped make an incredible kid and you saw him in her eyes every time.

“They’re mad at Alpha, not Negan,” you assured her, trying to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t think that matters,” she said, kicking at a loose seashell.

“I know,” you said, brushing a piece of hair off her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I know you care about him.” Judith nodded and then moved forward to wrap her arms around your neck, resting her head against the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” you asked, squeezing her back as she held you

“I like that you see him as a human being,” she said and you nearly cried at her words. You just held the little Grimes back.

“I always will,” you promised.

“No matter what?” she asked.

“Yeah, kid. No Matter what.”

Tags: 

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[evaxsombra]

Kadeu: Indvidual Task

; ON FAMILY & SELF-DISCOVERY an interview with Four of Spade, Evangeline Santiago

Tell us about how Eva feels about the resistance!

Eva is sprawled out on the floor, arms reaching out for the armadillo wandering around the barracks. Chupa makes a beeline for the Shifter’s welcoming arms and proceeds to make itself at home on Eva’s stomach. A furrow is forming between her brows, but she answers easily.

“I’m not against them, but I’m not for them either. I’m…curious about them. I’ve heard about them from all sorts of people and I get why the resistance is so appealing. Honestly, I almost considered joining them back when I was still a Club. Mostly ‘cause I heard they helped any lowranker who had nowhere to go. It was right after that gang I was part of left me for dead.” She rubs at the scar that peeks out from under the collar of her Spade uniform. “I figured I’d fight for any cause if it meant I didn’t have to live like that anymore, but that was then. Now, I have goals and dreams that don’t line up with the resistance. At least, not the way they go about it. I like the way I’m doing things…and between you and me, I worry ‘bout the idea of the resistance becoming something to me like that gang was. I can’t go through that again. I just can’t…Anyway! Next question! Lay it on me!”

Did finding out her parents were involved with that group change her opinion of them?

Eva startles at the question. Her eyebrows raise in surprise, a flash of hurt showing before disappearing behind a small smile.

“Wow, asking the hard questions, huh? Umm, I’m not sure. I think it’s made me want to know more about the resistance. Not join them, but figure out what exactly they’re fighting for. If I learn more about them will I learn more about my parents? Will I get to know what they were like, what they believed in if I know more about the resistance? I don’t know if I can say my opinions changed because I still don’t know enough…but mom and dad must have believed in them for a reason, right?”

What about Anton and Mallick’s involvement?

Eva sits up slowly with Chupa cradled in her arms as she moves to the bed. Her long hair masks her face. Armor that resembles the armadillo’s own starts to form on the Shifter’s skin, but she doesn’t seem to notice. It’s quiet for a moment. Eva speaks quietly, so unlike her usual, vibrant self.

“TonTon…TonTon had his reasons. I’m sure of it. He was a good person; he always looked out for me, and we always got up to trouble that we could laugh about later. I trusted him and if he—if he were still alive that wouldn’t change. No matter what the resistance stands for, TonTon deserved better than what happened to him. Instead, everyone trash talked him. And I had to listen to all of that. And not once…not ONCE did I hear the resistance speak up for him.

…

“Maybe I do have an opinion about the resistance.

“And Mallick? What is there to say?” A angry glint crosses Eva’s expression when she finally lifts her head, eyes unseeing but still managing to appear as if she’s seeing something far off.

“How can I have an opinion on someone who abandoned me? Mom and Dad trusted him and he left me with someone who he may have trusted, but turned out to be a jerk. If Mallick was a leader for the resistance…if he was part of the group that claims to help lowrankers down on their luck, why…why didn’t he help ME? But…I’ve heard all the good he’s done. He’s helped others so he isn’t a total jerk, right? I just…haven’t figured out how I feel about Mallick yet.

“…It doesn’t matter now. I have family and friends now who I know will always have my back. I love them and they love me and I’m never going to be alone again.”

Does she blame the resistance for taking her parents away from her, or will she seek them out for answers?

“Yes,” Eva answers without hesitation. Her hands are curled in her lap. Chupa cuddles closer to her in an attempt to pacify the agitated Shifter. “I blame them. I blame the resistance, but I’m not a kid anymore. I know better now. I know my parents made their decisions, that they chose to join them, to leave me. I blame the resistance, but more than anything I blame my parents. And between you and me…I’m still angry at them. I act like I’m over it because I don’t want anyone worry over me, but I’m so angry at them.

“But just because I think the resistance has some fault for my parents leaving me doesn’t mean I won’t go looking for answers from them. They owe me that much, I think. I deserve to know what caused mom and dad to walk away from the life we had together. I deserve to know what part the resistance played in making the hole I feel when I think about my parents. Don’t I?”

How has this changed her perception of her parents?

The anger is still visible, but there’s an unmistakable air of sorrow and fondness mixed into her voice.

“I love them. I always will. But now some of those very few memories I have of them are tainted. Certain things I heard around them, from them—they make more sense. It makes me wonder what exactly Mom and Dad were doing that they were able to keep their very hungry Shifter child alive for five years, if just barely. That blood I always associated with my dad’s scent…it’s hard to wrap my head around what that scent actually was when that scent is mixed with the memories of his soft singing and deep laughter.

“And Mom? I’m pretty sure she worked at the Forge…at least I think she did. She always smelled of fire and metal. Her armor was rusted…a metallic stench would sometimes cling to her. She didn’t like me hugging her when she smelled like that. She’d get so upset and even if I cried she wouldn’t come near me until she cleaned herself off and the smell wasn’t so strong.

“…I’m afraid that the memories I have of them, that all of them are being ruined by what I’ve learned so far. And I’m so scared that the more I find out, the more likely I’ll end up hating my parents.”

Of herself and her place in Kadeu?

This question seems a bit easier for Eva to answer. She smiles and it’s warmer than it’s been for most of this interview.

“I don’t think my parents’ life has to define me. I do think, though, that learning what I have about them haas changed how proactive I am in my own life. All my life, I’ve depended on others to help me, even if I wasn’t consciously doing it. Sparrow, Rook, Hilo, Anton, Shu-Ling, Ara, Prospero—they’ve all helped me to be who I am today. But after seeing what happened in Clubs three years ago and discovering my parents involvement in the resistance, I realized how helpless I was. I wanted to be able to stand on my own two feet like Mom and Dad and all those Clubs. To make decisions for myself even if they weren’t the right ones.

“I have to thank them for that. If I hadn’t gotten that push I never would have trained as hard as I did. The Spade highrankers would have never noticed. They’d never have offered me a position at the Triage as a non-magical healer. I love that job even more than I did the administrative work because I can see—well, not see, but you know what I mean—all my hard work, my parents’ influence paying off. I’m doing more and I’ve never felt prouder of myself.”

How have these revelations affected her relationship with Prospero?

The smile that had bloomed on the Shifter’s face dimmed at the question. She ducked her head to press it against Chupa’s armored body. The armor of Eva’s skin which had nearly disappeared during the previous question returned once more. She whispers:

“Prospero…hasn’t been very happy with me. We got into a fight when I first started looking into my parents and the resistance. He called me, and I quote, ‘a foolish brat who finds trouble in the sewers if she can’t find it in the sky’. Lilith got upset with him, but I couldn’t say anything. He wasn’t wrong. I always cause problems for him, but…but I couldn’t just give up on the only lead I had about my parents. All my life I’ve had questions I thought I’d never get answered, and now they’re right there in front of me, so close I can almost grasp it.

“…But I think I’m making Prospero feel like he isn’t good enough as a father. He is, I swear! I love him just like I love my dad. Well, not in the same way. Dad is dad and Prospero is Prospero so I love them both in the way they’re them if that makes sense. But I know I’m not being a good daughter. I keep hurting him. He doesn’t talk much these days. Spends most of his time in front of the fire with his drink in hand. When I try to talk to him, there isn’t any banter anymore, just grunts and grumbles. Sometimes he talks to me first and that’s when I know he still cares because he’ll tell me not to forget my coat or to have Lilith pack me a meal. Lilith says Prospero always asks after me to see how I’m doing, but that grumpy old Strongarm is too stubborn to ask me himself.

“I just want Prospero to stop being angry at me. He has to be angry. I want my grumpy, but sassy dad back…”

The interviewer thanks Eva for her time. Eva waves off the gratitude with a forced smile, stuffs the interviewer’s hands with pouches of dried fruits. She waves them off from her barrack door until they’re footsteps no longer even echo. She quietly shuts the door and huddles in bed for the rest of her day off. Eva can allow herself one day to cry, right? Then she’ll be happy again in the morning.

[willow-salix]

FabFiveFeb Alan!

Finally got this bugger edited, so here it is, my offering for Alan week of @gumnut-logic​ FabFiveFeb. Once again I’ve written what my daughter plotted with a few of my own tweaks thrown in.

“Is there really nothing else to do around here?” Alan whispered to Selene, jolting her awake from the sleepy doze she was enjoying stretched out on a sun lounger. “How can you just lay around here all day?”

“Like you don’t do the same every day at home?” she grumbled, stretching out in an effort to wake up. She'd never admit it, but she was getting a bit bored with having nothing to do, hence the impromptu nap time. 

“That’s different, I’ve got things there to do.”

“You mean you have technology?” Selene grinned evilly. “Whereas here it’s-”

“Like I’ve gone back in time to 2015 and the graphics suck, " he groaned. 

“Come on, it’s not that bad, don’t you like the peace and quiet?” Selene’s family home was indeed very quiet, set apart from the other houses on the street, it backed out into a small but flower filled garden that held nothing but the sun loungers they were currently occupying, the picnic table their drinks were on, a slightly rusted BBQ, some yoga mats and a bird bath in the shape of a frog on a lily pad.

Alan looked towards Selene's cool, but rather weird, younger brother who was currently doing some kind of yoga crossed with Tai Chi that seemed to have a little of that 1970’s disco type of dancing thrown in for good measure.

“Adam, help me,” he begged, trying to invoke the bro code. 

“Chill out, little dude, it’s all good," Adam said, his sleepy tone the perfect accompaniment to his snail like movements. 

“Nothing about this is good,” Alan huffed, feeling dismissed and beyond frustrated. He was seriously regretting offering to go with her for a visit under the mistaken belief that time spent away from his brothers with his cool sister-in-law would be awesome. But no, he’d been stuck there for three days and they’d done nothing but talk about boring things that he couldn’t really join in with because he didn’t share the same memories that they did and watch TV in the evenings. The only positive thing was the quality of the food on offer.

“How did you grow up like this and not die of boredom?”

“We made our own fun, we’d read, draw, do arts and crafts, go on days out and-”

“Days out? Where did you go?” Alan jumped on that information like John on a double cheeseburger after a month in space.

Selene thought about it for a moment or two. “The seaside?” she offered. "That was always our favourite place to go and somewhere we always looked forward to, a rare treat really."

“The beach? Yes! Can we go?” he gave her his best pleading puppy eyes and she was, as he well knew, powerless to resist.

“Well…” she dithered, caught between spending time in her family home with her mum as it came up to what would have been her parents 30th wedding anniversary and the need to do more than sit around and mope, especially if that moping meant that her littlest love had a crap time.  “Ad’s, are you up for a road trip to Southend?”

Her brother paused in his Night Fevering to look at her. He seemed to think about it for far longer than was necessary before nodding. 

“I could go for that. Wanna take my car?”

                  ***

“I’m never getting in a car with your brother again,” Alan shuddered, still looking a little stressed out by the whole experience.

“Yet you’ll get in a jet with Scott?”

“Scott goes faster than 25 mph and he knows what road signs are,” Alan explained in the same tone that John adopted whenever he was explaining to her why she actually needed an investment portfolio. 

“Road signs are all part of the conspiracy, man, they just want you to follow blindly and never question where they are sending you.”

“To the beach, they were sending us to the beach,” Alan continued to bitch. Selene couldn’t blame him, two hours in a car with her brother's sitar music, cloud of vape smoke and tendency to lose track of their destination was enough to make anyone a little antsy. Maybe now he'd stop complaining when she took too long to fly them to her flat. 

They left the car park and headed towards the seafront. Thankfully, with it being a weekday and term time, there weren't too many people about. As always the sea was a dirty grey colour, nothing like the clear blue they were used to on the island and Selene could tell that Alan was looking at it with thinly veiled disgust.

Southend had been promoted to a historic seaside town back in 2038 and hadn’t changed since. The lights of the out of date arcades still flashed in welcome, drawing Alan’s attention almost immediately, the little beach huts still offered deck chair rental and the amusement park with its clanking, clunking kiddy rides and its ancient roller-coaster still drew some crowds. 

“See that there?” she pointed out towards the sea. “That’s still the longest pleasure pier in the world.”

“Pleasure Pier? Did you have to make that sound so dirty?” Alan groaned.

“Sorry, but that’s what it’s called, there are different classifications and one that has no purpose but for leisure activities like this one, is known as a pleasure pier.”

“I didn't know that, but it still doesn’t make it any better,” he muttered as she slipped one arm through his and the other through Adam’s to tow them across the road.

The air was filled with a mixture of freshly fried donuts, fish and chips and the unmistakable scent of the sea and Selene was immediately hungry.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve been here,” she sighed happily, relaxing into the atmosphere of what had once been one of her favourite places in the world. She could vividly remember how exciting it had been to hear the announcement that they were going to the seaside for the day. That meant an afternoon spent playing on the beach, splashing in the sea, eating dinner out of a paper tray with a little wooden fork and, if you were really lucky, a trip around the sealife center and a floaty helium filled balloon to take home with you.

Looking out down the length of the beach she easily conjured up images of childhood days gone by, seeing her father chasing Adam down the beach as he attempted to make a break for freedom or tried to eat a clump of seaweed while her mother screeched at Rufus to run faster and catch him.

Maybe coming here had been a good idea in other ways too, she pondered. Her mother tended to favour being miserable if it was an option, and often when it wasn't, and had been mooching around the house sighing like she was a Victorian ghost haunting the place. She’d gone out to visit friends for the day, leaving them alone and that had been when Alan had seized his chance. And Selene for one was glad he had, he was always good at sensing when she was in need of cheering up and this time had been no exception.

“Can we start at the arcades?” Alan asked, looking more excited than he had in days. Who was she to disappoint him?

“Sure, lead the way!”

        ***

Two hours later and Selene had finally dragged her brothers away from the bleepy, shiny, flashy machines and back into the fresh air. Alan, it transpired, was almost as good on a claw machine as John and she was now lugging along a whole new family of stuffed toys, all slightly moth eaten and smelling a little suspect but cute nonetheless.

“I’m hungry,” Alan announced.

“Good call, little dude.” Adam, surprising Alan no end, had joined in rather enthusiastically at the arcade, being more active and alert than he’d ever seen him before, displaying a competitive streak that rivaled a Tracy's. But, now that the excitement of gaming had died down, he was back to his chilled and slightly lethargic self.

“Fancy some donuts?” Selene suggested.

“Sis…” Adam drawled. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Selene giggled, shoving the stuffed toys into her brother’s arms as she headed to the donut stalls. “I'll get them, you two meet me on the beach.”

Her arms now free of their burden Selene quickly ordered three dozen of the delectable little morsels, something the English called Dinky Donuts, small little ring donuts, freshly fried and drenched in a sprinkling of sugar. Knowing that they’d need them she bought some drinks too and took her bounty back to the boys, proudly displaying her prize.

“I got them!” she yodeled, but no excited sounds were heard in return. “What’s up?” she asked, nudging Alan as she reached his side.

“What the heck is this?”

“The beach, duh. What else could it be?"

He scuffed a toe into the stones at his feet. “This is not a beach, this is all stones. Where's the sand?”

“It’s a pebble beach, most of the British coast is,” she shrugged.

“It’s wrong.”

“If you say so,” she wasn’t in the mood to argue or defend the virtue of their beaches, she had hot donuts to eat. 

“This is not a beach, there’s no surfers, no sand, no lifeguards, no nothing.”

“This is England, we take things at a more chilled pace,” she soothed, dumping a bag on each of the boys' laps.

She took her own and opened it, inhaling the rich scent. Oooh yeah, that hit the spot. She reached in to pluck one out, studying it from all angles, marveling at it's perfection. She lifted it to her mouth prepared for the taste explosion that was about to assault her mouth in the very best of ways…

“Sel!” A sharp Alan elbow embedded itself in her side, making her drop the donut. She watched in horror as it hit the pebbles and rolled away.

“You had better have a good reason for making me sacrifice a donut,” she warned him.

“Over there!” 

Selene turned, following the direction in which Alan was pointing. 

“What? I don’t see anything?” All she saw was the relatively empty beach, nothing but a few seagulls pecking around hopefully, one coming close enough to snag her lost donut, racing off in triumph with it in its mouth. 

“Them,” he pointed again.

“Them? What about them?” The them in question turned out to be a small group of school age boys, the oldest no more than ten years old. They were all holding a number of balloons from the pier, which were bobbing along above their heads and looked perfectly innocent. “They’re just having a day out, could be an inset day or something at school.”

“No, look what that one's holding,” Alan insisted, nodding towards the oldest looking boy who was carrying a small box with holes in it.

Selene squinted closer. “Is that an animal box?” She was amazed that Alan had even noticed such a thing, she hadn’t looked twice at the boys, just seeing a happy group of friends at the seaside on a rare day off school. Alan always seemed like he was paying little attention to anything, more absorbed in his games or phone, but here was the undeniable proof that he was just as good as his brothers and had inherited their danger seeking sense.

“Looks that way,” Alan agreed. 

“It could be innocent,” Selene argued lamely. “Maybe they are just taking their pet on a day out too?"

“Sure, that’s what it’ll be,” Alan said, rolling his eyes. 

“Honestly, it’s something I’d do,” she retorted, feeling the need to defend herself and her wish to believe that there was good in everyone.

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Alan decided, finally reaching into his own bag for a donut.

As was usually the case, Selene was easily distracted by talking to her brother and just enjoying the novelty of being in a different place to one she was used to. She’d finally grown accustomed to hearing the sound of the ocean at all times of the day and night after so long in a city where traffic was the only ambient noise. b

But here the sound was different to the island, here the waves lapped gently over the pebbles rather than crashing against rocks and she was surprised that she could tell the difference. 

She’d worried, when Alan had suggested going out, that this little beach from her childhood which stood out so bright and shiny in her memories, would look pale and dull in reality. Life was often that way, your memories and imagination creating a perfect picture that was rarely obtainable in the real world and she didn't want her memories tainted by the truth. Thankfully she had been worried over nothing and was finding it just as charming as she had remembered it to be.

“Not bad are they?” she asked, turning to Alan to see how he was enjoying his donut feast but the space next to her was empty.

“Allie?” she called, looking around like he might suddenly pop out of nowhere. Surely she hadn't ignored him for too long? 

“Alan!” she yelled, trying again. He was a big boy now, an adult in his own right, but she got just as panicked when she lost Scott, which was actually easier if you could believe that. Alan was usually happy to hang near her and chill, Scott was always dashing off to look at something or other and would just vanish into the ether without a second thought. 

“Ad’s, have you seen Alan?”

“Yeah, little dude, cool shirt, strange hair.”

“Thanks for that lovely description. I meant did you see where he went?”

Adam nodded, pointing further down the beach to where the small group of school boys stood, Alan beside them, waving his arms violently, clearly yelling at them though she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Shit!” Selene was up in a second, grabbing Adam's arm and towing him along in the process, forcing him to abandon his stuffed animal squad to the mercy of the seagulls as they barreled down the beach after Alan. 

"Al," she panted, finally catching up, "what…doing?" 

In answer the small box that the boy had been carrying was thrust into her hands, a disgruntled rustling noise along with a manic scrabbling, coming from inside. 

"Oi! Give that back!" a boy yelled, his piggy nose turned up to the sky in indignation. "We 'ad ta catch that thing ourselves. Ain't no way you're gonna snatch it."

"You're not getting it back," Alan insisted, his arms folded as he firmly stood his ground. 

Selene passed the box on to Adam who was standing there doing absolutely nothing to help, his attention on the balloons floating above them. Once her hands were free she immediately flanked her little brother, knowing that he wouldn't be doing this without a very good reason. 

"What's going on?" she demanded to know, her hands on her hips. "What are you boys up to?" 

"This idiot won't give us it back," the oldest boy and apparently the mouthpiece of the little hoodlum brigade, continued to yell. Selene had seen boys like him before, usually ones with overly aggressive parents that taught their kids that you got what you wanted in life by being obnoxious, rude and threatening. Well not on her watch and apparently not on Alan's either. 

"You're right , I won't," Alan agreed. "Because that is a living creature that you were about to tie to a bunch of balloons."

"Weren't doin' nothin' of the sort. Yer lyin'." 

"You were what?" Selene hissed, her attention fully engaged now that there was the potential for injury of an animal. "You were going to send an innocent animal into the sky on the end of some balloons?" 

"Nah, we weren't," the little bully boy continued to argue, elbowing one of his friends when they opened their mouth to speak. 

"We ain't doing nothin' wrong, were we lads? Nothin' at all. Just a little experiment for school, jus' like teacher said."

"Experiment? What kind of experiment?" Selene asked, narrowing her eyes in warning. 

"Why should we tell you?" the mouthy one sneered. "You ain't nothin'."

"We were just seeing if he could reach space, like. Teacher said that people would send monkeys up in rockets a hundred years ago," another boy piped up, sounding pleased with himself. "Figured we'd try the same out ta sea like a note in a bottle."

"You are so not doing that!" Selene yelped. 

"Yeah, 'ow you gonna stop us?" 

"You wanna say that to the police?" Alan threatened. 

"Police? Yeah righ', like yer gonna jus' call up the police like they actually care. An' then wot, 'ave em come running on the say so of a nobody? Fer this? I don't think so, mate. They don't give a crap."

"Listen up you little shit," Selene started, rapidly losing patience. "You're not getting that…Whatever that is-" 

"Rat," one of the kids helpfully offered. 

"Rat," Selene continued with a little shudder of horror at the fact that they had gone to all the trouble of capturing a dirty rat off the street just to do something cruel to it. "You're not getting it back and you're not going to hurt it. What's wrong with you all?" 

"He's been to space," Adam suddenly piped up, like he was only just catching up to the conversation but still missing the main point, pointing at Alan helpfully. 

"Space, yeah right," another of the boys, a weedy looking string bean that had previously been hiding near the back of the pack, looking at Alan judgingly. None of the boys looked particularly bothered by their threats or the fact that Selene was practically spitting, she was so angry. 

"Al," she demanded, determined to win the little shits respect. "Show them that clip you took last Saturday, the one on your board."

"We can all board, you ain't nothing special," the mouthpiece sneered, not impressed in the slightest. 

Alan pulled out his phone, fiddled with it for a second then showed them the screen where a video was playing, taken from his vlogging drone as he boogied around outside Five on his astroboard. The dark heavens were clearly visible all around him while the earth spun quietly below, and there, if you looked closely, was John, in the background, sitting on the outside of the gravity ring, clearly doing all the work while Alan filmed for Brandon’s channel. The Alan on screen zoomed in a loop the loop, the drone following, the camera angle changing to show Three securely docked to Five.

“That actually is space!” one kid gasped.

“And that’s...that’s…” another stuttered.

“Thunderbird THREE!” someone screamed in excitement.

“Still think I’m a nobody that the police won’t listen to?” Alan asked casually as he pocketed his phone. "Maybe I should skip the police and go straight to the GDF? What do you think, Sel?" 

"Yep, sounds like a plan to me. They take animal cruelty very seriously, you know."

The ring leader visibly deflated before their eyes, but he valiantly tried to hold on to his ‘couldn’t give a shit’ attitude.

“So you know some people, what’s that got ta do with anythin’? You ain’t the boss here.”

“Knock it off, Wendle, it’s over,” one boy ordered, rolling his eyes.

"Wendle?" Alan mouthed to Selene who shrugged in return. Never had a kid looked less like a Wendle in the entire world. 

“Yeah, I never wanted to do this in the first place,” another joined in. 

The first one to have spoken walked away, followed by another, then the other that had spoken. Others trailing after them until the small group had dispersed as if it had never existed, all of them hurrying off down the beach with calls for getting donuts or having to head home.

Wendle managed to stand his ground for less than a minute before he gave in.

“Keep the stupid rat then!” he yelled, taking off after his friends.

Adam, being Adam, waved goodbye like it was the most normal thing in the world, still holding the rat filled box.

Alan let out the breath he’d been holding, visibly shaking, either from anger or adrenaline. He had never been one for confrontation no matter what form it took or who it involved.

“You did good, babe,” Selene praised, giving him a hug.

“Yeah, good, little dude,” Adam agreed, “here, have this, I insist,” he handed him the box with the rat in it like it was some great prize.

“Erm, thanks,” Alan said, gingerly accepting the box of rat, which rustled as the creature inside shifted around. He held the box for a second, looking completely bemused and a little disgusted, suddenly having a very real feeling of compassion for John when he walked in on Selene and Scott doing something weird. 

“What are we going to do with the rat?” he finally asked Selene, who was the only one there since Adam had wandered off to rescue the stuffed animals they had abandoned, snatching up Alan’s dropped bag of donuts and picking one out to munch on.

“I don’t know,” Selene admitted, “I guess we should take it somewhere to release it. Not around here though, maybe back at Mum’s.”

“I guess,” Alan reluctantly agreed, not liking the idea of sitting in a car with a wild rat in a box. 

Since they had gained another tag along, even if it was in a box, they decided to cut the day short, knowing they couldn't drag the rat around with them all day. It had clearly suffered enough, what with being caught and stuffed in a box and having survived a narrow brush with death. It would be better for them to take it straight home and let it go in the relative safety of the garden before it got even more stressed out. 

"I'll drive," Selene insisted, leaving Alan to hold the rat in the back seats, Adam calling shotgun so he could 'pick the tunes, man'. 

With Selene in the driving seat it was a far shorter, not to mention less frustrating, journey back to Casa de Tempest. 

To Selene's intense relief their mother was still out when they got back. She would have pitched a fit if she'd seen them releasing a rat into her garden, she'd never go out there again. 

Adam wandered off the second they got home, muttering something about a tofu log, leaving them alone to release the beast. 

"You can do the honours," Selene smiled, nodding at the box he still held. "Since you were the one to perform the daring rescue. Seriously, you did good today, sweetheart, but I'm really starting to think that I need to stop taking a Tracy with me whenever I go places, you're all the same, nothing but trouble."

Alan blushed at the praise, as always finding it slightly uncomfortable to be the center of attention in such a way, but still happy to get the validation that he'd done the right thing. With so many big brothers who had all been there and done that before he had a lot to live up to and often felt like he couldn't quite match up to them. 

Taking the box over to the bushes near the fence where Selene had indicated, he opened the flaps and stepped back to give the little guy some room. 

The rat didn't move at first, staying inside the box, obviously scared by its experiences. They stayed quiet, giving it time to make up its mind. Finally they saw the box wobble as the rat made its tentative way out. 

"Shit!" Selene yelped, launching herself off her seat so fast Alan barely saw her move. 

"Sel, what are you…doing," he finished, stunned to see her hit the ground, the rat cradled protectively against her chest. 

"Help me up," she wheezed and he did as she bid, helping her to her feet as her hands were occupied. 

"What's wrong? Why did you catch it?" 

"Allie, look," she carefully opened her hands, just a little. A small, pink nose poked out, followed by a pure white snout, a grey face and perfect pink petal ears. 

"Is that…?"

"A domestic rat, yes. This was either someone's pet or it's come from a store. We can't let him go, he'll never survive in the wild."

"Wow, he's so cute. Can I hold him? He won't bite me will he?" 

"I don't know, he seems tame enough but he's had a fright today so I can't promise anything." She carefully placed the rat in Alan's outstretched hands. 

The rat, far from looking terrified, seemed to be perfectly fine now it was out of the box. It sat down on its haunches and began to wash its face with its little paws, one grey, one white. 

"Aww, he's great," Alan cooed, cupping the rat in one hand so he could stroke it gently with the other. "I've always wanted a pet."

Selene sighed, knowing exactly what was coming next, there was no escaping it, it was going to happen… 

"Can I keep him?" 

    ***

"We gotta move fast," Selene instructed. "I've got the cage and the bedding. Have you got the food?"

"Yep," Alan held up the bag with the food, treats and water bottle they had purchased on their way home. The rat was curled up in his new travel bag, which was hanging from Alan's shoulder. 

"Right, we make a break for it, we go straight to your room, don't look back no matter what happens and avoid John and Scott at all costs. Got it?" 

"Got it," he nodded, grinning happily. 

"They're gonna kill me," she sighed, not that there was much she could do about it. "OK, let's go!" 

They raced up the back stairs from the hangars, straight to the upper floors of the villa where the bedrooms were situated, bypassing the more populated communal areas and managing to avoid any and all Tracys. 

They dived into Alan's room, Selene struggling a little, burdened as she was with a three storey cage. Alan cleared a space on his desk and took the cage from her. 

While Alan set up the cage, filling it with fresh bedding and tasty foods, Selene made herself at home on Alan's bed, the rat happily perched on her chest, enjoying an ear fondle. 

"I didn't know you were back," a voice called from the hallway, accompanied by the sound of footsteps. 

Selene and Alan both jumped, their heads turning guilty towards the door they had neglected to shut where a suspicious looking spaceman stood. 

"Hey, gorgeous husband of mine, I've missed you!" Selene chirped, trying to divert his attention as she quickly grabbed the rat and stuffed it in the pocket of the hoodie she'd stolen from Adam. 

John gave her a look that said he'd seen everything.

"What's that?" 

"What's what?" she answered, trying to look innocent. 

"That tail sticking out of your pocket."

"Tail? What tail?" she poked the tail gently back inside.

"Why does Alan have a cage on his desk that he's trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to hide by standing in front of it?" 

"To put Gordon in?" 

One sleek ginger eyebrow rose and they both knew they were wasting their time. They were well and truly busted. 

Alan held out his hand and Selene passed over the rat, who was none the worse for its impromptu expedition into the depths of her pocket. It sat quietly in his hands, happily nibbling on a piece of cereal bar that had already been occupying his hiding place. 

"Where did that come from?" John's foot tapped out a rhythm as he waited for them to spill the beans, leaning against the door frame, his arms folded. 

"Have I told you how hot you look when you're all grumpy and intense like this?" Selene tried. 

"Where did you get the rat?" he repeated ignoring her blatant attempts at distraction. 

"The beach," Alan admitted, caving immediately under the big bro gaze. 

"The beach?" 

"Yep," Alan looked at Selene for backup, cradling the rat who didn't seem to care about any of the drama he was causing. 

"Some boys had him in a box and they were going to tie it to some balloons and let it go but Alan spotted them and stopped them," she explained. 

John glanced at the rat, who was looking very adorable and fat. 

Ever the master of managing her husband, Selene got to her feet and crossed the room to wrap her arms around John's middle. 

"Alan was great, he sprung into action before I even knew what was going on. He rescued him, and really, isn't that what International Rescue does? Rescue people?" 

"That's not a person, that's a rat," John argued, but she could tell he was weakening. 

"Did I mention that I missed you?" she grinned, standing on tiptoes to place a little kiss on his chin. 

John's sigh of surrender was epic. 

"I'm banning you from ever leaving the house again with any of my brothers. What next, a dolphin with Gordon? 

"No, don't be silly. We couldn't bring a dolphin home in my car."

John rolled his eyes ignoring his wife to face his brother. 

"Does that thing have a name?" 

"Yep," Alan answered, grinning proudly as he moved closer, holding the rat out for inspection. 

"John, meet Fuzz Aldrin."

[collecting-stories]

The Break - ep. 03 - Georgia

Summary: Hershel and Annette find out that Maggie has been dating Glenn behind their backs.

A/N: I took a lot of liberty with Hershel the first time I wrote this so I wanted to align him more with his character when he was first introduced.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Annette you gotta talk to him! Please!” Maggie begged, standing in the kitchen as Annette prepared dinner for the family.  

“Margaret. What your father says is law in this house, you know that as well as anyone. And he’s told you how many times that you are not permitted to date unless-”

“I know!” Maggie groaned. “Unless you both approve of the boy. But that was never gonna happen. Ya’ll wouldn’t let me date Glenn and I knew that!”

“Well I’m sorry you felt like that but going behind our backs was deceitful and wrong. You can use this time to reflect on your decisions and whether what you did, lying to your family, was pleasing to God.”

Maggie groaned, slamming her hand on the counter and then rushing out of the house, toward the barn. Anytime she had gotten into an argument with her dad and stepmom before she always went to the barn for some fresh air and clarity.  

Beth had come home Friday night from a playdate with a friend to tell her dad two very important things. One, that she had seen you with ‘someone’ outside the diner when she was leaving with her friend’s family and two, that Maggie was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully for you the someone Beth saw was no one she recognized but the instant Hershel and Annette heard that Maggie wasn’t exactly where she said she would be on the night she said she’d be there they had looked through her room and her cellphone log.  

And when she came home that night after her date they were waiting at the dining room table, Hershel with his stern pastoral face on and Annette looking unnecessarily near tears.  

“It’s not like you’re hanging out with Daryl Dixon.” You’d told Maggie later that night on the phone as she cursed both her parents out of existence over the entire ordeal.  

“I tried to reason with Annette and she won’t even talk to him for me. Told me he’s doing the right thing for everybody. Just cause Glenn isn’t Baptist.”

“And cause he’s Korean.”

“It ain’t like that.” Maggie argued. On more than one occasion you and Glenn both had told Maggie that her parents were walking the line of racism pretty thoroughly. They did the thing all churches looking for new members did, masking their doctrine with a welcome sign for all creeds and cultures and backgrounds and people. And it was fine if the majority white church had some Hispanic, black, or Asian patrons. All were welcome. But all were not welcome to date Reverend Greene’s daughter.  

“It’s like that.” You replied. “You can be friends with whoever you want Maggie but they aren’t about to let you date someone who isn’t white and Baptist and from a family they’ve known since the creation of the earth.”  

“Will you call Glenn for me? Tell him what happened?” Maggie requested, “I’m trying to talk some sense into daddy but I’m grounded expect for church and school. They said not even youth group!”

“I’ll call him.”  

“I really love him, ya know? I know we’re in high school but I really think he’s the one.” Maggie admitted.  

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.”

-

Nothing came of Maggie begging Annette to talk to Hershel. She was insistent that Maggie listen to her father and abide by his rules and his rules were that she wasn’t permitted to date a boy that didn’t go to the church. The ‘what if he did’ argument got her nowhere either, Hershel simply reminded her that he didn’t and he would never and even if Glenn started to now out of the blue they would all know why and it wouldn’t be earnest.  

When Beth told them, over the dinner table the first official night of Maggie’s grounding, that she had been on the phone with you, all her phone privileges went out the window too. She would go to school, pick up Beth and Sean, come home, do homework, and go to bed. On Saturdays she would help around the farm and on Sundays she would go to church and that was the end of it. There would be no social life. Even a few of her teachers had been informed that she was not to speak to Glenn Rhee.  

“You know what I hate about small towns?” Maggie questioned, sitting on the swings beside you. The playground was fenced in, right beside the addition that had been added to the church some 30 years prior so that people could send their kids to a Baptist preschool. It was through church donation and preschool tuition that the playground had been kept up but it was still outdated compared to an actual schoolyard.

“No.” You replied, positive that she would tell you.

“That everybody just knows everything! And listens to everything daddy says! All week we were pulled apart, Mrs. Frasier told everybody that we weren’t allowed near each other!”  

“I know. We go to the same school Mags.”

“But it ain’t fair! He’s not God, why’s he get a say in my personal life?” Maggie questioned.  

“Just think, soon we’ll be in college. Then we can hang out with whoever we want.” You replied.  

“I don’t think being in college will make your parents okay with the idea of you spending time with Daryl Dixon.” Maggie said, grinning, “where do they think your car is anyway?”

“At Dale’s. I told them Dale always comes by the diner and I knew he would give me a good deal. I just left out the part where it’s at Daryl’s house.” You laughed. “Speaking of, I kind of told him I’d stop by today.”

“Now?” Maggie asked. “This is the only social life I get all week.”

“Did you ask Annette if you could go dress shopping with me tomorrow after school?” You asked. “It’s the only day I have off. I switched shifts with Lori, she has another date.”

“Oh my god!” Maggie stood up from the swing suddenly. “Oh my god!”

“What?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“Daddy said I’m not allowed to go to the dance.”

“What?” You paled at the information. The only thing that wasn’t making the entire experience of going to the dance completely awful was the knowledge that Maggie and Glenn would be enduring it with you. But if they weren’t...if Maggie wasn’t going...then you would be sitting there in a hideous dress listening to Aiden bullshit with his football buddies.  

“They both said, no dance.” Maggie said, dropping back onto the swing.  

“I can’t believe it. Do you think they’ll change their minds?”

“If I can find a time machine and make them forget that Glenn and I are dating.”  

-

Daryl was already working on your car when you showed up in his driveway. The cold weather had you in a white long-sleeved turtleneck and a nice skirt, tights keeping your legs warm. Your parents were one step away from becoming crazy fundamentalists but thankfully they only made you wear dresses and skirts on Sundays. You came into the car port where Daryl was, waving at him when he looked up from the car.

“Hey, hope it’s okay I stopped by.” You said, coming over to stand beside him.

“Yeah, ‘s fine.”  

“Patricia won’t let me work on Sundays and Maggie is only allowed to hang out during church so...” you trailed off as you sat down in the lawn chair. You’d brought your backpack with you to church with the intention of going to Daryl’s afterward.

“So ya figured ya’d come antagonize me?” He asked, the hint of a grin.  

“I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise!” You replied. “I brought homework anyway.”

While Daryl got back to work on your car you pulled out your history homework, balancing the textbook and notebook on your lap and wedging the pencil case between your thigh and the lawn chair. For the most part you focused on your notes for the Atlantic Revolution while Daryl worked though every few paragraphs you would look up. You found that you liked watching him, it was almost calming in the way he worked on a car but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable and you knew how weird it would seem if he caught you staring. There wasn’t much else to see from where you were sitting.  

Behind your Jeep was Daryl’s truck and parked on the sidewalk outfront was a rust bucket of an old sedan that you guessed belonged to his father. It hadn’t been there on Halloween but it had been there the last time you stopped by. The backyard, from what you could see, looked as messy as the carport.  

“Do you have any water?” You asked, standing up and putting your books on the chair.  

“Thought ya were gonna be quiet as a mouse?” Daryl sassed.

“I am, I swear.”

“There’s water in the fridge.” He waved his hand over toward the refrigerator the sat beside the steps.  

The fridge was closer to the back of the carport and gave you a better glimpse into his yard. There was a pop-up camper parked in overgrown grass and a shed in the far corner by the chain link fence. A picnic table sat in front of the camper along with a small grill.  

“That’s cute.”

“What’s cute?” Daryl asked, saying the word like it was an insult.

“The camper...I like how it’s all set up.” You said, “my family goes to this Baptist camp every year and there’s this family that has a camper like that. They put string lights on theirs.”  

“I ain’t putting string lights on my camper.” He said.  

“It’d be so cute.”

“Yer not so good at being quiet are ya?”  

"Sorry.” You grabbed the bottle of water from the fridge and went back to your seat. “I’ll be quiet.  I promise.”

“Ya keep promising.” He pointed out.

You sat down and held your books up as evidence that you were getting back to work. As you resumed studying Daryl went back to working on the car, glancing up every once in a while, to make sure you were alright. Or so he convinced himself that was why. He thought you looked pretty, not that he didn’t always think that, and he couldn’t figure out why you kept coming around. He thought maybe you didn’t trust him with your car but then you weren’t hovering and you didn’t seem too worried about what he was doing to the car while you were there.  

“Ya know ya don’t gotta come around every time I work on the car.” Daryl mentioned.

“I like hanging out with you.” You shrugged, looking up from your notebook.  

“Well I ain’t here ta babysit ya.”  

“I could give you an extra $5 an hour?” You teased, “and snack allowance. I prefer goldfish.”

“Ya always like this?”

“Like what?”  

“A pain in the ass.” He deadpanned.  

You pouted, “fine, I won’t come by next time. I’ll go hang out with Glenn or something...Reverend Greene found out him and Maggie were dating and now she’s grounded until she’s like thirty.”

“That the Chinese kid?”

“He’s Korean.”

“Ain’t surprised the Greene’s wouldn’t want him around they’re daughter.” Daryl replied.

“You don’t even know Glenn. He’s so nice-”

“Hey, I ain’t saying anything against the kid. Just saying, they’re old school. Most people ‘round here are.”

“It isn’t an excuse.”

“I ain’t disagreeing with ya, I’m just saying...they ain’t gonna change their mind.”  

“Well anyway, I can go hang out with Glenn, so I don’t bother you.” You said, back on the topic from earlier. That you were a nuisance, which was the exact opposite of the effect you wanted to have on him.  

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, “I didn’t mean ya had ta go. Just meant, if yer worried ‘bout the car I know what I’m doing.”  

“I’m not worried about the car.”

“What?”

“I’m not worried. You said you could fix it and I trust that you can.” You replied.

“Than why ya hanging around?”

“Its not the goldfish.”

“I’m being serious.” Daryl said, leaning against the Jeep.  

“I like hanging out with you.”  

Daryl didn’t say anything else, just turned back to look at the car before you could see the blush on his cheeks. He scrunched his nose and bit at his thumb as he focused on the engine and tried not to think about what you just said. He wasn’t completely friendless in the world. He had Rick, and occasionally Rick’s friend Michonne came around from the police academy, but he’d never had someone outright say that they liked his company. Especially not a someone like you.  

-

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[spookysweet-heart]

Just Another Runaway?

Parings: Circus!Egos x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Youtuber Egos (Mark, Jack, and Nate)

Warning: Vague mention of abuse

A/N: Hello! I deleted the original work I had because I wanted to change a few things. I hope you all like this new Introduction to this Circus series! The lovely aesthetic I’ll be using for this intro is by the very talented @huffle-princess​! Thank you again for letting me use your aesthetics! Edited by @semiproeagle23​

           Life was never the greatest, you had to admit that. From the screaming, to the fights, the bruises, and tears. The only escape you had from what was supposed to be your home, was the local Gym. A little weird, but they had a gymnastics section in there and that’s where you loved to go.

Your best friend since childhood, Stretch, is the owner's daughter. She goes to the same school you do. You two would always be at the Gym after school for a bit, and you’d always find the time to practice some moves and get a workout done with some of the other girls who were practicing. 

Though you would never really join in, you were more off to the side. 

Stretch would help you cover up bruises you had that were visible, but you could see it in her face that she was worried about you, though you always told her you were fine and pushed through it.

Those unspoken words you and her shared when she looked at the pain you were in always ended in you running away at the end of the day, but none were successful.

You made plans and sure you were careful to the tiniest detail, perfecting it after each attempt you took. 

Failure after failure, you never gave up. The first few times after being brought back home from the cops, you were yelled at, degraded. 

It took a couple more years, but once you turned 17, you decided to go through with your new plan you worked so hard on.

Packing up some things in your backpack, you made sure to take everything you needed. You went to school as normal, and hung out with your friends. You weren’t really paying attention to their conversation at lunch till you saw one of them pull out a flier out of her bag. 

“What’s that?” You looked over curiously at the piece of paper.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s a traveling Circus coming into town.” You shook your head and Sam smiled at you. “I heard this Circus only pops up for one week in the year.”

Meer rolled her eyes. “So what? You’re saying it like it’s supposed to be scary?”

“Well, it is. I heard each town this Circus goes to at least one kid from the town goes missing and they never see them again. They say the Circus is for the lost souls of the living.” Stretch made a face while making spooky noises.

The whole table burst into laughter. You pointed at the flier and asked.  “Where is it going to be?”

“In the middle of the woods two miles away from the abandoned train tracks.” Sam piped up in excitement.

“Wait, how do you know that?” Meer raised an eyebrow, looking confused at her friend.

“Jordan from science said he was in the woods this morning and he saw them set everything up.” Sam said as she took a bite of her food.

“Jordan?! You can’t believe everything that kid says.” Meer looked at Sam like she was joking.

“Why not?” Stretch asked as she slid the flier over to you when she saw you trying to look at it.

“The kid’s kinda weird, like not normal weird.” Meer made a face and took a sip of her juice. 

You rolled your eyes and carefully folded the flier, putting it in your bag. “Just because he’s really into science doesn’t make him weird. He just likes what he studies.” 

Standing up from the table and making your way to your next class, Stretch stopped you in the hallway. "Hey! Are we still going to the gym after school? You haven't been going the past week and the coach is starting to get worried."

Adjusting your backpack, you gave her a small smile. "Yeah, about that. I just haven't been feeling too well and haven’t been up to going to the gym."

"Is everything okay? (Y/n), your parents aren't-"

"No! No…they aren't, I just haven't been up to going lately. I'm sorry, I have to get to my class."

Right as you started to walk away, she grabbed your arm. "(Y/n), whatever it is you're going through, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

You nodded and gave her a brighter smile. "Yeah, of course I know. I'll see you around, okay?" Taking back your arm, you headed off to your next class.

------

Towards the end of the day, you had a free period for your last class, so you decided to go look through the school's library. Besides gymnastics, you always loved reading when you were actually home. Scary stories were what you loved to read. Sure, it was a bit childish, but you loved it because you would control the fear and how it affected you. 

Your eyes scanned the shelves of many horror novels, comics, and picture books. Though….you noticed one book in particular. It looked a little odd to the rest.

Picking it out, you saw the cover was faded. There were spots of brown and red, the spine was a bit torn, and the pages looked like they could crumble with the lightest touch.

Taking a look at the cover, the faintest words could be made out. "The Circus of Souls….I read that somewhere- no way…" Quickly taking the flier out of your bag, you put it side by side with the book. "They're the same…."

Gently opening the book, you saw drawings of a ringleader in the shadows with a wicked smile. In his hand held a cane with a small orb. His eyes were hidden by the top hat. What looked like red and black smoke surrounded him.

There were images of a magician in a mask with glowing potions in his hands, a man who seemed to be surrounded by purple smoke singing to a crowd. A mystic and dark fortune teller. A man in pink wearing a blindfold and holding knives. And a girl with glowing green eyes standing next to a tiger.

Every page had a story and specific person to it. Staring at the picture of the Ringleader, you were lost in thought when the last bell rang. You jumped as it brought you back to reality. 

Looking around and making sure no one was near, you placed the book and flier into your bag heading out of the school as fast as you could. 

Holding your bag close, you walked towards the woods, not looking back. You started walking the trail until you turned away from it. 

Carefully, you maneuvered your way through the trees and bushes, making your way to the abandoned train tracks.

Moving through a bush, you made it to the other side to where the track was. Looking around at the abandoned train cars, you sat at the edge of the tracks, taking out a water bottle from your backpack. You sighed after taking a sip, and looked up at the sky, seeing it was pretty cloudy out today. Tugging your jacket a bit closer to your body, you decided to explore the cars that were open.

You knew some homeless people used to live in them, but no one ever saw them around much anymore, so you figured it was safe. Climbing into one, you carefully took out your flashlight and looked around. It was mostly dusty and smelled of rotting food and rusted metal.

In the corner of your eye, you thought you saw black smoke outside of the car, but when you turned to it, it wasn't there. "Weird…" Jumping out of the car, you turned off your flashlight and took out the flier again. Examining it, you saw the picture of the Circus Ringleader. His eyes were, again, covered by his hat and what was supposed to be a charming smile actually looked malicious.

Taking a deep breath in, you turned around to see the black smoke just barely disappear again. You raised an eyebrow at this until you heard the faint sound of music. It was something you'd hear from a music box or a children's lullaby. 

Before you knew it, your feet were walking towards the distant sound. In your head, you were protesting, but it felt like something else was controlling your movement.

Squeezing through tight areas, climbing and jumping from car to car, you put good use into the years you'd taken gymnastics. Keeping your balance and heart rate at a steady pace, you felt like you were being watched with each move you made. 

With the music getting a little louder, you knew you were going the right way. After a while, you found yourself willingly going towards the music instead of fighting back. Curiosity grew with each step, knowing you were that much closer to seeing the source. 

Climbing up onto a tree, you hung onto one of the branches by your hands, carefully pulling yourself up to sit on the sturdy branch. In the distance, you saw it. The circus tents, the lights, the music….everything looked so inviting.

Deciding to stick with staying in the trees so you wouldn't be seen, you managed to swing from one branch to another.

As you got closer and closer, you sat on a branch a good distance away. Placing your bag on your, lap you took out the book and looked over at the tents. "This can't be real…" Opening the book again you saw the circus layout was exactly the same.

Flipping through the pages, you saw two acrobat and tightrope walkers. One was in a blue outfit and the other in a green matching outfit, both standing side by side. Flipping through the pages of story and art, something caught your eye. 

There was a drawing of four silhouettes, but it felt incomplete. Lightly brushing a finger over one, you thought your eyes were playing tricks when you saw golden specks appear when you did so.

Closing the book, you sighed as you put it away. You jumped a bit when you heard a twig snap from underneath you. Quickly putting a hand over your mouth and bringing your knees closer to you, you tried to hide as best as you could.

"Don't be such a frightened stranger. I'm not gonna hurt ya. But it's no use hiding when I already saw you up there."

Your heart dropped hearing that. The man's words meant no harm, but his tone told a different story. 

Glancing down at the figure below, you realized who it was. Carefully, you made your way down the tree and stood a good distance away from the man in the red suit.

“Well, what do we have here? A spectator?” He looked over at your bag and noticed how full it was. His smile grew, making him seem more intimidating. “Ah, just another runaway, I see.” Taking off his top hat, you saw his eyes for the first time. Piercing bright red eyes stared down at you as you took a step back. “Now, now….as I said before, no need to be afraid….yet, at least. Let me introduce myself.” He reached his hand out for you to shake. “My name is Phantom, I’m the ringleader of this Circus here, if you couldn’t tell already.”

Hesitantly, you shook his hand. A shiver ran down your spine when his cold hand touched yours. “N-Nice to meet you…” Taking your hand back, you immediately shoved it into your jacket pocket, surrounding it with warmth.

Phantom stood up straight again and placed his hat on his head. “Tell you what, kid, I’ll give you four free tickets to the Circus Of Souls. They’re valid for the whole week we’re here. You and three of your friends can have all the fun you’d like, my treat.” Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out four tickets. He smiled as he handed them to you. “You look like you could use a little fun in your life.”

Taking the tickets, you looked up at the man who now you know as Phantom. “There has to be a catch. You don’t just give tickets away like that…”

Phantom held his stomach as he laughed to himself. “Of course, everything has a price to pay. So what would you pay for happiness, then?”

“If I’m being honest….anything really…”

Phantom started to smile again, but you noticed it was the same wicked smile he had, like the picture in the book. “Anything….interesting.” He looked up at the sky for a moment before he heard someone shout by the big tent. “Well, looks like I have to go. You should get home before it gets dark. The woods are a scary place to be at night. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt now, would we. Go home, I’ll see you soon, (Y/n).”

As he turned away, you looked down at the tickets and looked confused because you never gave him your name….so how did he know it? Just as you looked back up to get his attention again, he was gone.

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