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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 8,912 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, sexuality, anxiety, fear, nudity, violence, gore, death of a character, typical TWD A/N: Here we are! The very final part of this series and it's a long one. It's definitely bittersweet. 257 page document and almost 130,00 words. Thanks for sticking with Y/N and Daryl this whole time. Hope you like it. A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N and Daryl head to the meeting place to try and put an end to Negan and The saviors.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl was staring over at you beside him in the bed. The sheet was swirled around your hips, allowing him to memorize the delicate angles of your shoulders blades and to trace the shadow of your spine down to the dimple in your lower back. You were sleeping soundly beside him somehow, probably just out of exhaustion. The two of you had practically torn the house apart last night tearing into one another feverishly with desire and scenes from it played on a loop in his head; your legs wrapped around his hips as he pressed your back into the wall, sweat beading up on both of you, your head thrown back and your eyes closed as you gasped in pleasure, completely letting go and surrounded only by sensations of him.

Daryl had pressed kisses and nipped at practically every inch of your soft skin, knowing some would leave faint bruises and reveling in the surprised noises his lips and teeth were eliciting from you. He could practically still feel your fingernails down his back, your lips crashing into his, your fingers in his hair. He could hear your laughter and see the fire in your eyes and blush in your cheeks when you’d both clattered into the nightstand as you tore each other’s clothes off and sent the lamp shattering on the floor. It had been a whirlwind of desire and passion and was borne of both of your fears and anxiety about what was coming. It was needy and full of love. It was heated and wild. Daryl had never experienced anything like it and neither had you... The feelings and sensations had been all-consuming and almost overwhelming. Unstoppable.

But afterwards, once you’d laid spent on the bed for a time, tangled with each other, you kissed him so softly and tenderly and with so much love he’d melted into warmth, and he’d returned it and told you how you were everything to him, how much he loved you, how he needed you to breathe, to live. And you’d returned every word. He was bewildered and still in disbelief that you felt the way you did about him. Your eyes drank him in and then you’d pulled him gently under a warm cascade of water and showered together, washing each other’s hair, caring for the bumps and bruises you’d inflicted on one another earlier in the lustful crescendo and physical venting of your frustration and worries, smoothing the rich lather over one another, refusing to part for a second. And this was delicate and tender. Your hands were light on each other. Your kisses were soft but still full of heat.

You’d collapsed against him in bed, completely content with his arms around you, but Daryl hadn’t been able to sleep a moment. Now it was almost time for him to wake you. It was nearly 3 am, and the plan was to meet Rosita at the gate at 3:30. You’d travel under cover of darkness to the place where Negan was to meet you that afternoon, allowing them both to conceal themselves in the trees on opposite sides of the field. And then you’d wait.

Daryl adjusted the sheet over himself as he rolled closer to you, needing to feel your skin against his. Both of his hands smoothed over your back and you felt so small and delicate beneath them. You stirred a little beneath his touch and he kissed your shoulder and swept your hair aside to kiss your neck. You let out a soft sigh and sleepy moan and Daryl wanted so much to stay hidden with you in his arms forever. Why the fuck did this goddamn world have to be the way it was? How was it that he’d only found something this good when everything else was utter shit? The constant shit coefficient, he thought to himself. Something Merle used to say.

“Do we have to wake up?” you breathed quietly, turning and curling into him, your fingers finding his bare chest and moving down his side to hold gently to him.

“Yeah. S’time,” he drawled. Your eyes flitted open and for a moment Daryl thought he saw a flash of fear in them, but the next moment it was gone.

“Okay,” you said.

The archer reached out and smoothed his fingers through your hair. Your hand covered his and you laced your fingers in between his.

“It’s almost done,” you said. But Daryl didn’t find that reassuring. You saw that he looked careworn and worried and pressed his hand over your heart so he could feel it beating. “Hey. Everything is going to be fine,” you said. “I love you.”

Daryl felt a swell of emotions, everything all mixed together at once. It was dizzying. “I love ya, too.” You leaned in and kissed him softly. The next moment you both rose and dressed and soon you were outside the gate with Rosita, on your way to the meeting place.

It was still almost pitch black when you arrived, except for the faintest glow of a lighter blue on the eastern horizon. The three of you walked the area in silence, shoulder to shoulder. There were a few walkers and you put them down like a well-oiled machine. You all picked the spots where Rosita and Daryl would post up with their scoped rifles. Daryl gave Rosita a boost so she could climb up into a large oak tree. She settled into the crook of two diverging branches and nodded, glancing down at you. “It’s good. I have a good view.” Her camouflage clothing made her nearly impossible to see against the leaves and bark.

You walked with Daryl across the open clearing and into the small copse of trees on the other side. After you’d found a suitable spot, he gave you a long look, frozen with his hand on the strap of his rifle.

“There’s still time,” he drawled. “Ya ain’t gotta do this. We can find some other way.”

You stepped close to him and rested your hand on his strong chest, feeling the beating of his heart beneath your fingers and the expansion of his lungs with each breath. “I do have to do this,” you said. You stared up into his blue eyes. “Everything is going to be okay,” you reassured him.

His eyes flickered between yours but your reassurance didn’t relieve the pit in his stomach. He cupped your face and kissed you, pouring everything into that kiss and soaking you up, breathing you in. “Alright. Let’s get this done.” He knew there was no talking you out of it.

You pulled your pistol and handed it over to him. “Just hold this for me for a little while,” you said. But you kept your knife in its sheath for now in case a stray walker wandered by. “Daryl Dixon. I love you. More than you know,” you said, taking one last long look at him.

His forehead was deeply lined with worry, but his voice was steady. “I love ya too.” And then he watched as you headed into the darkness to wait in the clearing while he took his place. _ _ _ _ _ _

The wait was agonizing. You were practically sick with strenuous anticipation but finally, after what had felt like an eternity, you heard a vehicle in the distance. You rose from your seat on the ground and stood in the small circle of depressed grass left where you’d waited. Your jeans felt damp with moisture from the morning dew that hadn’t yet evaporated and you squinted in the direction of the road. Eventually a tall, lean figure, immediately recognizable as Negan came into view. Despite the heat of the sun, he was wearing his characteristic leather jacket. You were surprised but relieved to see he was without Lucille. You began approaching him cautiously, aiming to meet him halfway, knowing that would be a good spot for both Daryl and Rosita’s fields of view.

You were about a third of the way there when he suddenly froze and spoke. “Y/N, is that a goddamn knife I see on your hip? What in the fucking hell did you think unarmed meant?” he growled. His voice was deepened in anger and booming across the open space to you.

You pulled it from the sheath and tossed it out away from you over your shoulder. “I needed something in case of walkers,” you said. You eyed him suspiciously but he seemed to relax. You noted that he had a pistol in a holster at his side.

You both resumed your approach but something over his shoulder caught your eye and every muscle in your body tensed. “I said come alone!” you spat at him. “I said no one else!” You started to back away but far from looking concerned, Negan simply laughed.

He whistled and Dwight came into view, but he was entirely different than when you’d last seen him in Alexandria, when he’d come to pledge to help you fight against The Saviors. He was now clothed in a filthy sweatshirt and sweatpants that looked like they could have been the very same ones Daryl had worn, and his face was covered in bruises. “This? Oh, this isn’t someone, Y/N. This is my new dog, Dwight.”

You gulped and your heart started to race. Oh, fuck. He knew. “What did—"

“Can we not lie to each other, Y/N?” he growled, interrupting you. “I fucking know that you know what he did. I FUCKING KNOW!” he roared at you, his usually handsome features distorting and his face burning red with anger. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t FUCKING figure out what sneaky little rat cunt was feeding information to Alexandria? How goddamn fucking stupid do you think I am?”

You were paralyzed and were praying that Rosita or Daryl would pull the goddamn trigger. They had to know something was wrong. Was Negan far enough into the field now that he wasn’t blocked by other trees?

“Get the FUCK DOWN and get the FUCK over here, dog!” Negan growled at Dwight. Dwight fell to his hands and knees, his head down, and he crawled the rest of the way to Negan. When Dwight reached his side, Negan glared down at him. “Now stand the fuck up right here, right next to me and keep your eyes on the goddamn ground.” His voice was dripping with contempt. Negan looked back up at you. You realized that Dwight standing next to him was, in all likelihood, blocking Daryl from taking a shot at Negan. “Are we doing this or what?” Negan said. “Come over here so I don’t have to fucking yell and you can tell me why in the hell I shouldn’t just wipe all three communities off the goddamn map.”

Somehow you steadied your nerves after seeing Dwight so changed and you walked the rest of the way toward him cautiously. Negan seemed to calm as you came closer and you caught him looking you up and down. “Lift your shirt up, Y/N,” he said.

“Fuck you,” you spat back at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I said lift it up, not take it off. There’ll be plenty of time for that later if you’re interested,” he said with a grin. “I want to see your waistband. Make sure you’re not hiding some cute little peashooter.”

You begrudgingly lifted your t-shirt up enough so Negan could see the waistband of your jeans. “Turn,” he said, moving his forefinger in a circle. You scoffed, but complied and turned around so he could see you weren’t hiding anything.

“Good,” he said as you came to rest back in your original position.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask to frisk me,” you snarked at him. He let out a chuckle and that wide goddamn smile grew on his face as he looked at you.

“Holy shit. I do miss you, Y/N,” he said. “And not just for the great ass.” You were taking a breath about to open your mouth to say something snarky back when suddenly Negan pulled his pistol and shot Dwight right in the fucking head. You watched the blowback of blood splotch Negan’s face like it was in slow motion. The cloud of gunpowder drifted lazily on the heat of the afternoon air. Dwight’s body crumpled to the grass in a heap like a wet towel and you stood paralyzed, in shock, staring at the place where that living man had just been standing. Your hesitation from the shock of what the fuck you had just watched only lasted for a split second but it was long enough for Negan. Dwight’s body hadn’t even finished falling when Negan lunged forward and grabbed you, spinning you roughly and pulling you back against his body, one arm looped around your neck.

There was nothing you could do. He had you.

“Fool me once, shame on you,” he hissed into your ear. “Fool me twice…” His arm around you was tight. You could feel his tensed muscles straining as he pulled you back against him. But there was a sharp biting to the muzzle of his gun pressed into your back. “Now what did I fucking tell you, Y/N? I said no goddamn Daryl, didn’t I? And you just can’t obey me, can you? I know he’s here. There’s no way he’d let his little lovebug come out here on her own.” Negan suddenly roared and his deep voice was so soaked with bone-chilling anger it completely paralyzed you. “Get the FUCK out here now, Daryl! Or I’ll shoot her in the fucking heart!”

Sweat was dripping into Rosita’s eyes as she peered through her scope. “Shit. Fucking shit!” The only thing she could see was you in the crosshairs. There was no way she could take the shot without risking hitting you instead.

And Daryl’s view was no better. His stomach had plummeted into the fucking depths of hell. When Negan roared for him to come out, the archer tried to think fast. What the fuck were his options? None. He had none. Maybe he could bargain for you. He’d go with Negan as his prisoner if he just let you go. He had to try. He had to try something. He was nearly hyperventilating. Calm. He needed to be calm for you if he was going to get you out of this.

“I’m not fucking playing games, Daryl!” As he roared angrily, his arm tensed and tightened around your windpipe.

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and drew in as deep a breath as the paralysis in his diaphragm would allow. Then he shouldered his rifle and grabbed your pistol instead, stepping out from the copse of trees with it aimed in Negan’s direction.

Negan laughed into your ear and then you felt his teeth on it, biting. You tried to recoil from him but his arm held you tightly in place. It was terrifying how the man could go from roaring in anger to chuckling like he was having the time of his life with the flip of a switch. Daryl was still a way off, approaching with your pistol aimed. “Who’s your other friend?” Negan hissed into your ear. “The one over in the trees to the right.”

How the fuck could he know? How the fuck could he possibly know?

“I asked you a goddamn question, Y/N, and I fucking expect an answer.” Another squeeze on your windpipe.

“Why does it matter?” you wheezed out.

“Hmm. Good point. I’ve got everything I need right here,” Negan said. He pressed the gun into your back, eliciting a painful hiss of air through your teeth.

“How’d you know?” you asked, your hands gripping his strong arm in an attempt to lessen the pressure on your neck.

“Because I fucking know everything. You should have learned that by now.”

You were up on your tiptoes and the way he was pulling you back arched you into him, pressing your body against his. You were repulsed by the feeling of him against you. He laughed again, seeming to sense that you were raking your brain trying to figure out how he knew Daryl and Rosita were there. “That boy Eugene can build just about anything when given the proper motivation,” Negan said. His voice was silky and low. “When you said you wanted to meet, I tasked him with coming up with a way to make sure you really came alone. And you know what that son of a bitch came up with? Modified a camera to read thermal heat signatures. Now, I’m not even gonna pretend to understand how the fuck that works, but he did it. So, all I had to do was pull up, turn that shit on, and survey the meeting place. And with little Dwighty-boy under my thumb there was no rat to run off and warn you! And wouldn’t you know, when I fired that baby up there were three human-shaped heat signatures instead of just one. You must really think I’ve lost my touch if you thought I was going to take you on your word…” Your whirling mind was interrupted by soft footsteps in the grass nearby.

“Let her go,” Daryl growled. He was close enough now that Negan could talk to him without raising his voice. Your pistol was still aimed at Negan in Daryl’s hand but with the way Negan was holding you, you couldn’t imagine that Daryl could actually get a clean shot.

Negan laughed heartily. “That’s cute. You do know I have a gun pressed into your dearheart’s spine, right?” You felt the muzzle of the gun leave you for a moment as he showed it to Daryl, but a second later the bite of the steel was back. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little Mexican stand-off!” Negan said. “But there is one thing I have that you sure-as-fucking-shit don’t. Leverage.” Negan leaned down and you felt his face in your hair. He drew in a deep breath and let it out dramatically. “Mmm-mm-mm! Smells sweeter than I remembered.”

The muscles in Daryl’s jaw flinched as his teeth clenched. “If ya let her go, ya can take me instead. Hell, ya can kill me right now,” Daryl said.

“Daryl! No!” Your eyes went wide and round with fear. “Daryl—” But Negan’s arm tightened against your throat and you fell silent.

“I’ll put this gun down and ya can kill me right now,” Daryl said again. “Just let her go.”

Negan was smiling a self-satisfied smirk and chuckled again. “Oh, how I love having you both by the short and curlies,” he laughed. “Now, why the fuck would I want to make a trade like that? I can get out of here with Y/N and fucking kill you later. Besides, the idea of me having little Y/N here,” he pressed the gun to your head and his arm unwrapped from around your throat and you felt his hand running down your side to grip your hip. “Me having her would torture you in ways I can’t even imagine. That’s so much better than just, pfft, shooting you in the fucking face.”

“Fuck you,” you spat at Negan. Angry tears were burning in your eyes but you were determined not to let them spill out. “You can take me but I won’t give myself to you ever again. And I know that’s the one rule you’ll keep. Willing ass only, right?”

The gun bit into your back again and Negan’s fingers swept the hair off your neck and then gripped around your throat. His hand almost reached all the way around your neck. “Oh, give it time, doll… The things I have in mind for you, you’ll be begging to be my wife again in no time, just to have some light, some sound, some warmth, something to eat besides tinned cat food. There’s something called learned helplessness. You ever heard of it, Daryl?” Negan’s voice was casual now, like he was having a friendly conversation over a beer. “These psychology researchers would deliver a tone before shocking rats in a cage. At first, when the rats learned that the shock came after the tone they’d try to escape as soon as the sound played. They’d scramble and run, looking for a way out.” Negan’s fingers drifted down from your throat and swept to your collarbone. “But eventually, when they realized they couldn’t escape, when the tone came, the rats would just freeze. They’d just wait for what was coming. They’d learned they couldn’t escape and they accepted it.”

Daryl’s hand started to shake a little with rage. If looks could kill Negan would have been dead ten times over. “I ain’t lettin’ ya take her. And ya won’t hurt her,” he growled.

“Now, why the fuck would you think that?”

“Because you’re obsessed,” Daryl growled.

“Ever heard the phrase ‘If I can’t have her, no one can?’” Negan’s tone was dark and for the first time you truly realized he might kill you. Your stomach turned. This was so fucking stupid. How had you been so fucking stupid? You were blinded by your desire to save lives, to protect the people you cared about, and to just get this whole fucking mess over with. “This is me. I’m Negan. If it ever comes down to me or someone else, even Y/N here, I will be the one to fucking walk away.”

“Daryl—Daryl, look at me,” you said. The archer’s narrowed blue eyes met yours. “Just shoot. Just shoot. You have to end this. It’s okay... Just shoot,” you said. “You can—you can shoot him through me,” your voice broke as you urged the words to fall from your tongue.

“Wow,” Negan exclaimed. “Holy fucking shit! That is some goddamn insane shit you just said, Y/N! Fuck me! No wonder I like you so much. That takes some massive gonads! Can you feel my cock getting hard?” he asked, pressing his pelvis into you. “Goddamn…” He let out a low whistle and looked up at Daryl, still laughing. “Oh, you can’t do that though… Can you, Daryl? Kill the love of your fucking sad, pathetic, little hillbilly life just to get the Big Bad Wolf?” Negan laughed into your ear again and you squeezed your eyes closed as you felt his breath on your neck. He pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below your earlobe, knowing this must be killing Daryl to watch, and the stubble on his face was rough against your skin. “He can’t do that to you, baby. What the hell were you thinking spouting out that—”

But Negan never finished his sentence.

Daryl couldn’t explain it but despite the rolling boil of rage in his chest, or maybe because of it, time seemed to slow down in front of him and his hand suddenly had never felt steadier. He saw Negan as a target on the other end of the sight on the barrel of the gun and knew in his core that if he pulled the trigger at that exact moment that the bullet would find the intended target. And he squeezed off a round and watched through the hazy cloud of powder smoke as the bullet buried into Negan’s head.

What he hadn’t expected was the sound of a second shot.

It took him a moment to understand just what had happened. Had Rosita fired too? But as Negan’s now lifeless body crumpled beside Dwight’s, you fell too. Daryl expected you to bounce back up, to rush away toward him, but when you fell you just were lying there still on the soft grass.

Then he was a blur of movement and was beside you instantly on his knees. “Y/N? Y/N!” Your eyes were shut. Daryl’s hands immediately lifted you to cradle you against him, trying to rouse you, and that’s when his hand came away warm and wet and crimson from your back. He stared at it in a cruel realization. When he’d shot Negan, perhaps as some reflex on dying, Negan had squeezed the trigger of his gun and a shot had gone into your back.

Rosita was tearing across the field as fast as she could, her lungs on fire, and when she arrived beside Daryl on the ground she looked down in horror at your still body. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” she gasped. “Daryl—”

But her presence and voice seemed to snap him back to action. “Go get Negan’s vehicle. It’s closer. Go!” he roared. She pushed Negan’s corpse over and found the keys in his pocket before running as fast as she could to the waiting Jeep.

Daryl was still trying to rouse you. “Y/N! Y/N, open your eyes! Y/N, open your eyes dammit!” he roared. “Look at me! Y/N!” But your head simply lolled a little as he jostled you. He hesitated only one more second before pressing his fingers to your neck. Pulse. You had a pulse. He let out a rush of air, or maybe it was ripped from his lungs. “I’m not lettin’ ya die, dammit! Ya ain’t—ya ain’t dyin’ on me! I need ya!” He tore his shirt off. He lifted you enough to see the blood soaking the back of your shirt and dripping onto the grass beneath you and he pressed the bundled fabric of his clothing as hard as he could to the spot that seemed to be the origin of the crimson river.

The roar of an engine behind him pulled his eyes from your paling face and Rosita came roaring into view in the Jeep, which slid on the grass a little as she stomped on the brake pedal. Daryl stood, lifting you in his arms like you weighed nothing and Rosita hopped out to pull the back door open. The archer slid inside. Rosita rushed to grab the guns from near Dwight and Negan’s bodies and threw herself back into the Jeep, slamming it into gear and turning in the direction of Hilltop, her foot to the floor.

Daryl could feel your blood soaking through his shirt. Every passing moment his terror grew and you showed no signs of stirring. He cupped your face with his free hand, wincing as his fingers left smears of your own blood wherever he touched you. He huddled forward and pressed his forehead lightly to yours and Rosita could tell he was talking to you, whispering, but she couldn’t make out the words. Her stomach lurched every time she glanced in the rearview mirror.

She pressed her foot to the floor and the Jeep leaped over the pavement, but still she willed it to go faster…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl sat slumped over, his head in his hands, frozen. He vaguely registered a door opening somewhere behind him and he straightened up enough that he caught sight of his hands and saw the dried blood all over them. In some spots it was thick and flaking off while in other places it filled all the lines of his palms like someone had purposely painted it there, a red wash over his skin. He stared down at his hands, his vision going in and out, blurring and then sharpening, blurring and then sharpening…

The door opening had been Rosita entering the medical trailer. She hesitantly made her way over to Daryl and lightly touched his shoulder. He flinched, startled, and turned to look up at her with a dazed and desperate expression. She gulped and gave him a sympathetic look, her brow drawing downward over her eyes, but he didn’t seem to really be registering anything. He looked completely unlike himself. She pressed a damp cloth into his hands and he mechanically began rubbing away the dried blood on his skin, moving simply because she’d prodded him.

Her eyes drifted over to the bed Daryl was slumped beside and her throat constricted. It didn’t even look like you. Your skin was so ashen. Her stomach twisted. She should have stopped this—should have pushed back about the plan, but she’d been so blinded by her own hunger for revenge and this was where it had led. “Daryl—you should let the doctor give you something… some fluids, some medication—”

“No,” he croaked. The towel in his hands, now smeared with rusty red, fell to the floor carelessly.

Rosita gulped and rested her hand over the wrapping around the crook of her elbow absently. As if on cue, Dr. Carson appeared around the curtain divider. His eyes fell on you lying on the bed first and then drifted over to Rosita again.

“She probably is going to need another transfusion soon,” he said softly.

Rosita nodded. She, luckily, was blood type O negative, the universal donor. “Anything she needs,” she agreed.

Daryl’s eyes lifted and fixed on the doctor. “Why ain’t she awake yet?”

“Her body went through a lot of trauma with the gunshot and then the surgery… that with the medication, the painkillers, anesthesia still wearing off it could take a while.”

Daryl slumped again and rubbed his hands over his face.

Rosita glanced at Dr. Carson. “Can I talk to you?” she tilted her head away from the curtain divider and he followed her around it to the other side. “Tell me,” she said. “How is she? Really?”

“She lost a lot of blood. The bullet hit her right scapula and shattered it but that also stopped it from going clear through. If that had happened, she probably wouldn’t have even made it here. I was able to get the biggest bullet fragments out and I had to put in some plates to stabilize the area. My best guess is that everything will be fine. She’ll wake up, and except for some residual pain in that shoulder and maybe a little reduced mobility, in all likelihood, she’ll be just fine after she’s completely healed.”

Rosita wanted to heave a sigh of relief but she knew there was a qualifier. “But you’re saying there’s a chance she won’t wake up, that she lost too much blood,” she said.

“Yes. There’s a chance,” he said. “You should prepare him for that if you can.”

She shook her head. “There’s no preparing anyone for that,” Rosita said. “How long until we know?”

“If she doesn’t wake up in the next day or so I’ll start getting concerned,” he said quietly. “But all her vitals are trending in the right direction.”

“A day. Alright. Thanks,” she said. Dr. Carson breezed away and Rosita stepped around the curtain again. This time Daryl was right at the side of the bed and he had your left hand pressed between his, his eyes closed. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was praying.

Rosita pulled up a chair and set it slightly back from the bed you were in, feeling like she needed to be there but also needed to give Daryl some space with you. After everything their family had been through, all the people they’d lost, she’d never seen him like this. She was never a religious person, especially after the apocalypse, but at that moment, looking at how Daryl was with you, she sent a prayer into the ether.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl had finally collapsed on the edge of your bed out of pure exhaustion. His will had been strong to stay awake, to sit a vigil beside you, but his body eventually had other ideas and finally gave up.

But the slightest movement of your hand in his and he was sitting up stock straight, staring down at it and wondering if he was imagining things. His heart was hammering with renewed hope. There was a soft noise that fell from your lips and he knew he wasn’t imagining that. Daryl was instantly on his feet. “Doc!” he roared, and Dr. Carson was there in an instant. Daryl watched as a grin widened on the doctor’s face and he finally felt his body relax some.

Dr. Carson pulled a small penlight from his shirt pocket and clicked it on. You were moving your head a little on the pillow, but more than that, your left hand was squeezing onto Daryl’s and your grip was strong. “Y/N? Can you open your eyes?”

It seemed to take some effort but they fluttered open and Daryl gripped your hand in both of his and let out a gasp of relief.

Dr. Carson flicked the light over each eye and straightened up with a smile. “Normal pupillary response,” he said, grinning at Daryl. “How are you feeling?” the doctor prodded you.

You gulped and seemed to take stock of the moment. “Like hammered dog shit,” you rasped.

Dr. Carson and Rosita chuckled while Daryl let out a gruff laugh and squeezed your hand in his. He smoothed his fingers through your hair and you turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

“There you are. You’re here,” you said softly. Dr. Carson and Rosita, who was still hanging back, both stepped around the curtain divider to give you and Daryl a moment.

“Course ‘m here,” he drawled, still stroking your hair gently. “And so are you.”

Your eyes closed for a moment and you drew in a few deliberate breaths. “What—what happened? Negan—did he get away and—”

“He’s dead,” Daryl said. Your eyes snapped back over to his face. They were a bit round and unsure.

“What did you just say?” Your brain was a bit foggy. You wanted to be sure you had heard correctly.

“He’s gone. Dead. I—I shot him,” Daryl said. “With your gun.”

“You shot him,” you repeated.

“Mhm,” Daryl said, nudging his nose up in a nod at you.

You finally glanced over at your right side, the apparent source of the pain that seemed to be radiating in waves. Your arm was in a sling and fixed close to your body. “You shot him,” you said again. “What—what happened to me?” you asked. “Is my arm broken?”

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip anxiously for a moment. “When I—I shot Negan he squeezed off a round from that pistol he had. It went into your shoulder. Shattered your shoulder blade. Ya had to have surgery. Dr. Carson fixed ya up. Put some hardware in.”

You stared at him with your brow drawn slightly down but eventually nodded to show you understood. “So, I’m bionic now, is what you’re telling me.” There was a somewhat playful look in your eyes, but Daryl didn’t smile.

“Y/N—‘M sorry. S’my fault ya got shot,” Daryl said and you could hear the tension, the anguish in his voice. “Ya almost died. Ya coulda died…” Now his blue eyes turned downward and he couldn’t or wouldn’t look at you.

“How could you think this was your fault? If it was anyone’s fault besides Negan’s, it’s mine,” you said. You squeezed his hand as tightly as you could but you were feeling weaker by the second. “The whole plan was mine. And it was shaky at best but I—I didn’t care. I just thought I could end it. It’s not your fault. I told you to shoot him through me, remember?” Your voice failed and you leaned back into your pillow and closed your eyes. “I feel really tired…”

Daryl looked up at you again, guilt still swirling in his stomach. “You lost a lot of blood,” he drawled, his stomach twisting with fear again as he remembered how his shirt had soaked through with your blood and then it was running all over him and the back seat of the Jeep. “Just rest now, alright?”

But you forced your eyes open again and looked over at him. “What happened? With the rest of The Saviors?” Daryl could easily read the anxiety on your face but he shook his head.

“Rick and Michonne came back. With the scavengers. It’ll be over soon. Ya ain’t gotta worry,” he said, hoping to soothe your fears. “Everyone is safe back home. Some of The Saviors tried to get to Alexandria but those bombs you and Rosita wired up? Blew a bunch of ‘em to hell. Don’t worry about anything. Just rest.”

But you gulped and started to shift in your bed, grimacing with every movement but apparently determined. At first Daryl’s heart sank. It looked like you were moving away from him. But when there was as much space as you could create on the bed your eyes found his again before glancing at the created spot next to you, and he understood. “Come up here. Please,” you whispered. Your voice was a little raspy again. “I need you.” There were tears glistening in your eyes. It was settling in how narrow of an escape this was.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya,” Daryl said, worried about bumping your arm. The bed was narrow.

“Then get up here,” you said again. “Please.”

How could he deny you that? Daryl toed off his boots and very carefully settled in next to you on his side, facing you as you pressed back into your pillow. He rested his hand on your uninjured arm and studied your face in profile. Your eyelids were growing heavy again and each blink lasted longer and longer. “Daryl…”

God, his name leaving your lips was still the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard in his life. “Hmm?” he hummed, his finger drawing idle circles on your soft skin.

“I love you.”

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the words out without his voice breaking. He leaned up on his elbow and kissed you when you turned to look at him, gentle but yearning. “I love you,” he said quietly when he pulled back. “Now rest.”

And now, having heard those words and with the weight and warmth of him beside you, the familiar smell of leather and the outside air and smoke, you did.

_ _ _ _ _ _

A few days later You were sitting up in your bed with Rosita on one side and Daryl on the other. You fingered the cards on your lap and gave Daryl a long look. There was a pile of poker chips on the table beside you and you pushed them onto your bed and looked at Daryl again. “I think you’re bluffing,” you said. “All in.” You gave him a satisfied smirk. His blue eyes narrowed and stared back at you.

Rosita let out a scoff and threw her cards down. “I’m out. I fold,” she said, leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well?” you prompted Daryl. “Show ‘em.” You flipped your hand. “Two pair.”

Daryl let out a low growl and turned his over. “I got nothin’.” You laughed and grinned at him.

“I knew it!” You started to gather the chips up with your uninjured hand, piling them on the side table again, adding many more of Daryl’s to your stash.

“Considering how well she can apparently read you, it’s amazing it took the two of you so long to figure out you were crazy about each other,” Rosita pointed out.

Daryl shot a glare at her. “Ain’t quite the same,” he said.

The game was interrupted when Enid came around the curtain divider with a huge bouquet of tulips in her hands. “From Ms. Thompson,” she said, shuffling some things aside to make room for them.

You let out a small, uncomfortable groan. “Can you tell them to stop?” you asked Enid. “It’s getting embarrassing…” You trailed off glancing around at all the flowers and cards and other gifts covering every available surface.

The next second, as if on cue, Jesus stepped in with a loaf of some sort of bread in his hands eliciting another groan from you. “What the heck…” you trailed off. He laughed heartily.

“This one is from Mr. and Mrs. Devon. I think she said beet bread, but honestly I’m not really sure,” he said, setting it down and eyeing it uneasily.

The two of them, Enid and Jesus, were staring at you expectantly.

“…what?”

Enid grinned. “Are you in the mood for more visitors?” she asked. You gave her a questioning look.

“Uhh… I guess… as long as they aren’t bringing more strange vegetable loaves…”

“What about a lot more visitors?” Jesus prompted.

“What is—?” But you didn’t even finish your sentence before Aaron rounded the curtain, with Gracie in his arms. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes immediately welled up with tears to see your dear friend. And he was actually smiling. “Aaron.” It was all you could get out. Daryl was looking at you fondly and got up from his place beside you to make room.

“I can’t even tell you, again, how mad I am at you for doing something so insane, but also how glad I am that you’re alive. And I wish I could hug you, just one giant bear hug, but I won’t,” he said, nodding at the sling on your arm. He adjusted Gracie in his arms and beamed at you, nodding. “It’s over,” he said.

You wiped away a tear that managed to leak onto your cheek. “It’s over.”

Aaron grabbed your hand in his and gave it a brief squeeze before moving down the side of your bed to stand by Daryl, who he did grab into a one-armed hug that made you laugh. The next thing you knew, the small area of the medical trailer you’d been occupying, already adorned with gifts and notes from the Hilltop residents who remembered you from your time there, was filling with… everyone. Daryl’s family, now your family, was filing in. Michonne, Sasha, Carl, Rick and Judith… all of them were there and whole, looking extremely relieved to see you awake and alert, but obviously also still worried about your condition. Maggie came in too. You glanced around at them, a little overwhelmed, and your eyes landed back on Daryl, who was standing at the end of your bed and had one corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. He turned to look at Rick.

“Hey—Didya get it?” Daryl drawled.

“Oh, right. Carl, take Judith for a minute,” he said, handing off the bouncy little girl to her older brother. You watched, puzzled, as Rick disappeared around the curtain for a moment and then reappeared with a bag in his hands.

“Normally, we would have wrapped it better for you,” Michonne said, “but, you know, the apocalypse and all,” she joked.

“I wish we could honestly say it’s from all of us, but it’s mainly from Daryl,” Aaron said.

Rick set the bag down on the bed and you gave Daryl a questioning look as you managed to use your one good hand to unfurl the scrunched brown paper top and reach inside. You froze when your hand closed on a familiar feeling bundle. Your eyes zipped back up to Daryl’s face and the little smile he’d been wearing grew into a knowing smile at the look on your face.

“Are you shitting me?” you asked. Aaron let out a hearty laugh and it warmed you to hear it. You hadn’t heard him laugh since Erik’s death. You pulled out a sealed bag of coffee beans and stared at it, before glancing back at Daryl. “Where in the hell—” You upended the bag and poured out about seven more bags of coffee beans. “I don’t—what—” You shook your head in disbelief and grinned at the archer. “I mentioned this to you once… like… I don’t even know how long ago…”

Daryl shrugged and hummed a noise of acknowledgment.

“Where in the hell did you find these?”

“Figured that asshole probably had a stash of ‘em in The Sanctuary,” he drawled. “Asked Rick to go look. I was right,” he drawled.

You shook your head as you stared at him, your heart brimming, completely full. “I feel a little bad about rubbing how bad you are at poker in your face now,” you joked, eliciting laughter all around.

Rosita stepped forward and gave you a look. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe I don’t…” you said. “I don’t—thank you,” you said, glancing around at everyone. “This is—I mean, it’s just coffee but… thank you. And I’m just glad to see all of you.”

Dr. Carson poked his head in. “Alright. That’s enough excitement for one day. Y/N still needs to rest. Everybody out.”

Aaron gave your good shoulder a gentle squeeze as he passed. “We’re staying a bit. So, we’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Carol is on her way from The Kingdom.” You leaned back against your pillow and nodded, suddenly tired.

“Good. Tomorrow then.”

Everyone filed out except Daryl, who helped you repack the unexpected gift and clear away the remnants of your poker game. You sighed as he sank down in the chair at your bedside. “When can I get out of here?” you asked. “I want to sleep in a real bed with you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up again and he nudged his nose up in a nod. “Couple more days.”

“I can’t believe you found that coffee,” you said.

“Should last ya a bit, right?”

“Yeah, probably, like, a whole week maybe,” you joked. Daryl let out an amused huff and smiled at you. He grabbed your hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your fingers.

“I wanna sleep in a real bed with ya too.”

“You can go sleep in a real bed without me,” you said. He’d been sleeping in the chair beside you since you’d arrived and you couldn’t imagine that it was at all comfortable.

“Nah. I couldn’t.” He leaned up and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back eagerly.

Epilogue

“Shoulder sore?” Daryl’s voice behind you followed by the feeling of his arms around you and then his body pressing into yours. He’d caught you out on the porch, watching the rain, rubbing your shoulder absently with the other hand.

You nodded. “Little bit. Probably from the storm.” You had a mug in your hand and there were curls of steam drifting up from the surface. Daryl peered over your shoulder into it. It was coffee, and he smiled. “But check this out,” you said, moving your injured arm so your elbow lifted slightly above the level of your shoulder.

“Progress,” he said. You were still working on getting full range of motion back. Dr. Carson said you may never be back 100%, he’d had to reconstruct so much after the destruction by the bullet, but you were determined. Daryl swept your hair aside and pressed his face into the crook of your neck and left a kiss on your skin, breathing in your smell. You were wearing one of his old flannel shirts and he pulled it down to reveal your bare shoulder, leaving a kiss there, too. You leaned back against him, content. He could see the very end of the surgical scar and his fingertip traced it before his lips found that too.

“You know what I just realized?”

“Hmm?”

“We both got shot in the right side. Dwight shot you, Negan shot Dwight, you shot Negan, Negan shot me. It’s like some fucked up connected cube of shooting.”

Daryl let out a huff and shook his head. “But we’re the only ones left standin’.”

You set your mug on the railing and turned into him, facing him now, your expression pensive, matching his. “What are you thinking?” you asked him.

He shook his head. “Honestly? Nothin’.” His hands went gently to your lower back. “You?”

“I’d like to go back to bed with you,” you said. “It’s storming. We don’t need to hunt in this.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice,” he said. The next second he scooped you up in his strong arms and you laughed as he carried you back into the house and up the stairs, your mug forgotten outside. He set you gently down in bed, minding your shoulder, and then collapsed beside you, moving into you needily. His hands immediately slipped under your shirt and smoothed over your soft skin and you met his lips urgently with yours, tangling your legs with his.

Life since The Saviors was largely peaceful. There were still struggles. People needed things, the communities needed supplies… The walkers were still out there. But without the threat of Negan lurking somewhere in the shadows of your mind it felt like an entirely new world. It felt the way you had always felt when you were only with Daryl, but now it felt like it all the time. There was nothing else you could ask for. The two of you would have been content with each other and nothing else.

You knew there was likely to be another fight someday, but you also knew that the worst of your life was behind you. And Daryl had realized the same thing too. Neither of you could understand how in the middle of the fucking shitstorm of a zombie apocalypse, with the insanity of Negan, you had found each other and managed to make it through. It was something you talked with Maggie about a lot, and your heart ached that Glenn had been taken from her so cruelly, now knowing what they had because you had it yourself.

You were coming home after one such visit. Maggie and Jesus had made the trip and you all had gathered at Aaron’s, watching with delight as Gracie and baby Hershel cooed at each other. You found Daryl in the living room and gave him a curious look. He had an expectant expression on his face and you laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and ducked his head for a moment. “C’mon in here,” he said, his eyes flickering up to meet yours again.

“Okaaaay… you’re kind of freaking me out,” you said. You wandered over to him and his hands went to your hips reflexively. He seemed nervous but you couldn’t understand why. “What is going on?”

Daryl cleared his throat and then shoved a hand into his pocket. He opened his palm flat and you stared at what was sitting there. A delicate, silver ring. Your eyes shot back up to meet his. “I ain’t gonna get down on one knee or anything stupid,” he said, rubbing his free hand a little nervously over the back of his neck, “but, uhh, I want ya to be mine. Will ya?” He braved a glance back up at your face and caught the stunned expression melting away into a brilliantly happy smile that immediately sent his heart fluttering.

“Is that even a question? Daryl, I’m already yours,” you said.

“Well, I just… want to make it official,” he drawled. “If ya’ll have me.”

You gave him a somewhat teary smile and offered him your ring finger. He slipped it on. It was a perfect fit. “It’s official,” you said, grabbing him and sinking into a kiss. When you pulled back, you glanced down at the ring on your finger. “How’d you know what size? And where the hell did you find this?”

“I made it. Melted some shit down. Aaron helped me actually.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’re telling me Aaron knew about this and managed not to give it away? Wow… That’s actually shocking.”

“Anyway, the size… I measured your finger with a bit of string while ya were sleepin’,” he admitted. “Ya know, s’funny, ya sleep much deeper now.” You gave him a look. You hadn’t had a single nightmare since the end of the war.

“Yeah, I wonder why that might be,” you said sarcastically. No Negan, and Daryl always next to you? A recipe for a perfect night’s sleep.

The End.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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justmypartner · 3 years

Text

Still Breathing: Chapter 6

Summary: AU | When a case goes sideways, Hailey wakes up in the hospital with a revelation that leaves her evaluating her life. While she recovers at Med, she meets Jay, an aloof, yet intriguing patient that catches her by surprise. The two get to know one another as they take on the task of rediscovering what it’s like to truly live, and eventually learn their lives intersect in more ways than one.

Writer’s Note: Hi!! Oh man am I excited about this chapter. It’s sweet and flirty, but also pretty angsty, so you’re welcome and I’m sorry? I’ve hit a good spot with writing this story, so I will probably be posting more often. I still can’t promise weekly updates, but I will do my best. Thank you so much for the kind words on this story. It truly means a lot. I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3 or below

“Hailey?”

“Hello?”

It wasn’t until a coffee cup was being raised in front of her face that she pulled out of her absent stare.

“Sorry,” she shook her head, blinking her eyes back into focus. “Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile as she reached out to grab the cup.

Everything had been a blur since that last dance with Jay the night before. When the song ended and she finally worked up the nerve to pull away from him, she desperately tried to swallow down her emotions with the rest of the bottle of wine. Not long after, when she couldn’t get her mind to shut off, she told him she was beat and asked him to drive her home.

She then spent the rest of the night stuck in that moment in his arms, debating whether or not she was falling in love with him, or the moment. Then, every time she closed her eyes she saw his beautiful emerald eyes and his infectious smile and she knew the question was rhetorical.

She woke the next morning with a text from him asking to meet at what had become their coffee shop. She had the weekend off. She knew he knew that, so she had no real excuse to blow him off. So, she compartmentalized everything that happened the night before and agreed to meet him there.

“You okay? You seem off this morning,” he posited, taking a sip as he eyed her from the opposite end of the table.

There he was reading her like a book, the way only he seemed to be able to do.

“Yeah, no matter how much red wine I have, I always feel it the next morning,” she lied, taking a large swig of her coffee as he nodded, eyeing her carefully as she did so.

“Sorry,” he offered, the slight pout on his face expressing his empathy.

“Thanks,” she replied quietly.

“So, I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to run something by you.”

“Okay…” she said, a resistance in her voice.

“How would you feel about sneaking into a college party with me tonight?”

“Why on Earth would we do that?” she breathed out a laugh with the question.

“I’ve never been. It’s on my list.”

“You’ve never been to a college party before?”

“Nope. I enlisted right out of high school, then my active duty filled the education requirement for the academy. Never even stepped foot on a college campus until I was a cop and needed to for a case,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re not missing much. I only went to maybe one party in my undergrad years, wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Yeah well, my brother spent all of his college years partying. Figured I ought to see what the hype was all about. I was waiting for fall to come around so I could blend in with of all the incoming students, but I only want to go if you agree to come with me.”

“Fine, but only because it’s on your list… You’re going to have to do something about this look though,” she said, waving a hand in front of her as she gestured to his outfit.

“My look? What about you? You’re the one who dresses like a cop.”

She scoffed, taking one of the sugar packets on the table and flinging it in his direction. He flinched, a sneaky grin on his face as he laughed at his own joke.

“I can still wear my hat, right?” he asked once the laughter died down, a serious look overcoming his face.

“Yeah. I actually think I still have a U of C one you can borrow.”

“Cool.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a hat.”

“You don’t want to. The chemo has thinned my hair out so much. I just haven’t had the courage to shave it all off yet.”

A sad look overcame her face, and she quickly adjusted it when she noticed his eyes dart away timidly.

“Actually, I have been wondering since we met, are you a brunette or a red head?” she questioned, trying to divert the mood.

“Oh, that’s a surprise.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his now intentional pattern of aloofness.

“One day, I’m going to be the one to surprise you.”

He gave her a disbelieving nod as he brought his cup to his mouth, concealing the smile she knew was breaking out across his lips.

— — — —

Later that evening when she had just finished clasping the back of her last earring, there was a knock at the door. She made her way downstairs, hurrying to answer it.

Jay stood on her doorstep in a maroon button up, dark jeans, and his usual ball cap. In the time she’d known him, it was always t-shirts and henleys, so to see him more dressed up had her heart racing in an entirely new way.

As distracted as she was by his appearance, it didn’t stop her from noticing the way his eyes trailed up and down her body. She wore black jeans, black leather boots, and a silky blue tank that cut a little low. It certainly wasn’t her typical attire, but she knew it was basic enough of a look to blend in with every other college girl at whatever party they wound up at.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his mouth falling slightly agape as he seemed to force his eyes to train on hers.

“Wow yourself,” she told him, stepping aside so that he could come in.

Once the door was closed, they stood before one another in her foyer, both still silently gawking at one another for a minute longer.

“So, what do you think? Do I look like I should be at a college party?” he asked after clearing his throat, holding his arms out as he sought her approval.

She pursed her lips to the side as she eyed him up and down, taking a little more time to do so since he had granted her his permission.

“I don’t know I feel like it just needs-“

Her eyes fell to the top of his shirt where the top button was secured. She stepped forward, her hands moving to unbutton it and expose a little more of his chest. Her breath became shallow with the proximity. She pulled the collar out a little more once the button was popped. Doing so exposed a gold chain she’d never noticed before, one with a small medallion attached that rested in the contour of his chest. She noticed the way his jaw tightened as her fingers brushed his skin when she picked it up to inspect it further. She rubbed a thumb over it in her hand, an inquisitive look on her face as she did so.

“Do you always wear this? I’ve never noticed it before.”

“It’s my brother’s. He gave it to me a few weeks ago. It’s St. Luke, the patron saint of doctors and surgeons. My mom gave it to him when he first told her he wanted to be a doctor. He thinks it’ll somehow help me, I’m not so convinced, but it reminds me of her so I wear it,” he explained, only his mouth moving as she still inspected the small medallion in her hand. She smiled, releasing it as she took a step back, folding her arms over her chest.

“You know, the more I learn about your brother, the more I think I might like him more than you,” she told him smugly.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he spat, squinting his eyes at her jokingly.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me go get your hat.”

She momentarily disappeared upstairs, pulling the hat from her closet before descending the stairs once more.

“Here,” she told him. He grabbed it, holding it in his hand as he peered over at her with a look of patience.

“Right, um let me get my things and we can head out,” she said, turning around to grant him the moment he was silently asking for. When she came back, his hat was swapped out and he wore a shy look on his face.

“Thanks,” he told her, and she knew it wasn’t just gratitude for the hat.

— — — —

Even a block down the street from the house they could hear the music and voices of a hundred or so college kids. It was enough to send shudders down Hailey’s spine, a reminder of why her first college party was also her last.

“You sure you wanna do this? Can’t we just go get plastered at a bar and call it a night,” she offered, looking up at him in the dim light of the street.

The look he sent her was one of both amusement and certainty, and she knew his decision on the night’s plans was unwavering.

“Fine, but you’re my designated driver. The only way I’m getting through this is with booze running through my veins,” she sang.

“I didn’t plan on drinking anyway.”

The comment was enough to stop her in her tracks. She sent him a look, silently questioning the statement as a smirk grew on his face.

“I mean I’m going to have a beer or something, but I’m not supposed to get hammered or anything. I’ve already got enough chemicals in my body trying to kill me.”

She nodded, and they continued their slow pace towards the house. Another reminder of what seemed like many lately that he was living on numbered days. She just wasn’t sure what that number was. Her face fell, and she focused her attention on each step she was taking, trying to pull herself out of the instant sullen mood she’d fallen into.

“Alcoholic,” he mumbled under his breath, causing her to kick at him playfully with the tease. It was just what she needed to smile again, but not quite enough to keep that reminder from plaguing her thoughts.

Once inside, they were met with the overwhelming smell of beer, musk, and weed.

“How many of these kids do you think are underage?” he whisper yelled into her ear as they brushed through the crowd blocking the entrance.

“All of them,” she returned, shaking her head at the thought of a time when she was one of the many carefree kids they were surrounded by.

They found the drink table. Jay went for a can of cheap beer and Hailey poured herself a couple of shots of tequila. The smitten look and prideful smile he gave as he watched her down the first two were enough to make her do a third. It was going to be a long night with him looking the way he did, let alone with him looking at her like that. She knew she needed to be loosened up to get through it.

By her fourth shot she was in the middle of a crowd of people, her hips doing most of the work as she danced to whatever song was playing through the speakers. Jay opted out, claiming he was much more a slow dancer than a party dancer.

She’d been alone for a while, a couple of young guys dancing alongside her before getting the cold shoulder and moving on. Even when the guys approached, it didn’t stop Jay’s eyes from keeping a determined stare. She pretended she didn’t notice, but he kept a watchful eye as she swayed to the rhythm of the absurdly loud music.

About an hour had passed. Hailey watched as Jay broke his stare, moving to play a few rounds of beer pong. She laughed when she watched him swap his beer for soda water when the other guys weren’t looking. Not that it mattered considering how good he was at the game. Hailey had kept her eye on him every so often as she danced with various groups of soured sorority girls.

Eventually, the strands of hair by her face were stuck on with sweat, and she had lost sight of Jay for about 15 minutes. When she finally found him again, he was leaned against a wall, some young college girl standing only inches away from him, hung on his every word.

She blamed it on the booze, but it sent a heat rising in her. She couldn’t blame the girl, he looked damn good, but she couldn’t help but envy how oblivious the girl was to what it meant to be close to him.

She watched from the other side of the party, the low light seeming to only shine on the two of them in that large room of people. Her jaw was clenched and she thought about going over and pulling him away, being close to him in a way that had been stuck in her mind since the night before.

She then watched as he said something that sent the girl running, and a smile came across her face. She made her way over to him, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.

“You must really know how to sweet talk a girl,” she teased, practically having to scream over the noise.

“You would know,” he said it in a way that caused her cheeks to become even warmer than they already were.

“What’d you tell her?”

“She asked if I would go to her um… what’d she call it? Formal or something? She said it was some sorority thing. I told her I couldn’t because I have chemo that day. She thought I was kidding and then, well you saw the rest,” he chuckled, both of them looking over Hailey’s shoulder as the girl found some other guy to mingle with.

“You look like you’ve had fun,” he told her, instinctively bringing a hand to brush the slightly damp waves out of her face. “Why don’t we go outside for some cool air?” he offered. She nodded, grabbing a bottle of water on her way out.

The backyard was unexpectedly empty. It was a charming little courtyard with a few tiki torches keeping it dimly lit, and a big porch swing hanging from the large tree in the corner. Hailey made her way over, plopping down on the swing less than gracefully as she opened the water, her weak attempt at sobering up a bit.

“What do you think of your first college party?” she asked him as she tried to settle herself onto the swing.

“Overrated,” he said simply.

“Told you,” she returned, swallowing down a large gulp of the water.

“I kinda like seeing you like this,” he told her, laughing at the way her short legs swung back and forth to move the swing.

“I kinda like seeing you in general,” the words came out before she could fully process, and she squinted her eyes closed tightly, cringing at how forward her boozed up brain was making her.

He leaned against a tree across from her, crossing his arms as he snickered at her words. She laughed too, shaking her head as she took another pull from the water. He brought one of his hands up to readjust his hat as he watched her. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him. The pop of his collar, the way his eyes were still so vibrant in the low light. He was a sight to be seen, but it seemed like every time she looked at him like that lately, it only reminded her just how short her time with him could be.

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her veins, or maybe it was that thing that the shooting awoke in her, but she felt like she needed to tell him how she felt. No matter how much time they had left. Then her brain dwelled on that. Time. What did his prognosis look like? She’d never asked him. Never had the courage to ask him. But in that moment? Hammered Hailey was just about ready to ask, do, and say anything.

“How much time do we have left?” she broke after a few moments of being lost in her jumbled, tequila ridden thoughts.

“If you’re ready we can go if you want. We don’t have to sta-“

“No. I mean how much time do we have left,” she repeated, her eyes glossing over in a way that made the sight before her look like the view through a rain coated window.

His face was twisted in confusion, then it softened as he realized what she meant, and dropped immediately into a pain inducing look of sorrow. He walked over, grabbing the swing to stop it from moving before falling down next to her. He let out a sigh, bringing an arm to rest on the bench behind her back as she felt him looking over at her. She sniffled, fidgeting with the bottle in her hands before she brought her eyes to meet his.

“Why now? Why wait until now to want to know that?” he asked, the words coming out benignly.

“Because I want to tell you something, and if I’m going to tell you, I need to know first.”

“If I tell you, will the answer change your mind about whatever it is?”

“Maybe,” he kept his eyes on her, somehow knowing she wasn’t being truthful, somehow pulling the truth out of her with one look. “No,” she looked down into her lap, took a breath, and reset their gaze. “I just need to know.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes moving to stare straight ahead as she kept hers on him.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, taking a beat before continuing. “If this chemo does what it’s supposed to do, if it shrinks the tumor enough, I have surgery, go a few more rounds of chemo, and I could be in the clear. If it doesn’t? Things only get worse, and… I don’t know exactly how long, but the doctors give me a 30% chance of 5 more years.”

Silence fell upon them. Her gaze pulled away from him. They both looked straight ahead, not even daring to look at one another as Hailey let the news simmer. There was a pain in the back of her throat as she tried to hold back the sadness that plagued her body. It was a heaviness that started in her chest, extended up into her head, and burned the back of her eyes with a pain she hadn’t experienced before. She pinched at her temples with one hand as she kept the tears from streaming down her face. The only sound that surrounded them was the loud bass and indistinct voices coming from inside the house.

“Change your mind?” he finally asked. She could tell he’d turned his head back to face her, but she couldn’t find it in her to look back.

She shook her head, her stare still avoiding him as she closed her eyes. The tears that had built up spilled out and rolled down her cheeks. She groaned, those tears falling down hopelessly despite her best intentions.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asked, his voice was hopeful and quiet, and it only broke her heart even more.

She shook her head again, sniffling as she wiped the tears away.

“It’s a surprise,” she eventually told him, her voice raspy. She finally turned to face him, forcing a smile through her hurt as she jumped from the swing.

“Hailey-“

“I think I am ready to go home,” she told him, resting a hand on his knee briefly before making her way around the house and out to the street, not even glancing back to see if he was following her.

The ride home was quiet. His eyes kept tied to the road, and hers roamed out the passenger window. The same magnetic like force that seemed to always pull them together was somehow pushing them away in that moment. She finished the rest of her water. It wasn’t enough to sober her up completely, but she wasn’t quite as foggy as she’d been back at the party.

When he pulled up outside of her place, he told her a short and quiet goodnight as she hopped out. She returned his farewell, flashing him a fake smile as she closed the door and headed up towards her place.

She walked up to her stoop, trying to focus on her steps to keep from stumbling over. She was still somewhat drunk, but she was also just overwhelmed by the emotions weighing her down. Her brain kept replaying what he said. A 30% chance of 5 more years with him, or an unknown chance of a lifetime. The idea of each scared her for different reasons, but there was only one that seemed impossible to accept.

There was the sound of a door shutting behind her, and she spun around. Her face fell into a frown as she saw him jogging towards her. He got dizzy just from standing, the last thing he needed to be doing was running after her.

“Jay, woah,” she called out, reaching her arms out towards him when he was close enough to touch.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he assured through winded breaths.

“Did you forget something or-“

“Look, I don’t know what you were going to tell me earlier, but I have something I need to tell you,” he interrupted, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to restabilize his breath.

She looked up at him, a blend of confusion and expectation on her face. His head was tilted toward the ground, and she could just make out his eyes from underneath the brim of his hat. They were glossed over and they avoided hers as he seemed to prepare whatever it was he had to say.

“I don’t know how much time I have left. That’s my truth, and it’s scary and frustrating, and probably a little unfair, but every time I think about it, all I can think about is how I want to spend every minute of whatever it is with you. It sounds crazy because we haven’t even known each other that long, but… there’s something here. It’s something I’ve known for a few weeks now, but if I’m being honest it’s something I knew somewhere in my mind from the moment I stepped on that damn elevator,” he said it with a sense of urgency and passion that broke her heart in an entirely new way that night.

That pain of holding back her tears returned as the words cut straight to her heart. Then he reached out and wrapped his hand around her forearm, allowing it to slowly slide down until it was grasping her hand in his. She shuddered at the touch. At the electricity that seemed to jolt through her body with his fingers against her skin. There was a reluctant and almost fearful look on his face as he did so, and she just squeezed his hand back, allowing him to know it was okay. He then grabbed their joined hands with his other, stepping forward as he brought them to rest on his chest.

“Hailey, I need to tell you this, and I hope it doesn’t scare you off I just...” he cut himself off, his eyes falling to the ground once more. He inhaled sharply, bringing his eyes back up to hers and peering into them with the same desperation and fire she carried in hers.

His mouth parted and the words left his mouth as if time had slowed down. It was one sentence, six simple words, but she could have sworn the world stopped spinning when he said them.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead fic #justmypartner fics #collection of Em’s fics

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beskarberry · 4 years

Text

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?” You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught! “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it.

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!” Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!” Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...” The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.” Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.” The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream.

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?” The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.” He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off.

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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thebonggirll · 4 years

Text

chapter sixteen

< previous: chapter fifteen

A Coast Guard boat picked them up, but they were too busy to keep the kids for long, or to wonder how three kids in street clothes had gotten out into the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls.

They dropped the demigods off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around their shoulders and water bottles that said I'M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people.

Their clothes were sopping wet. When the Coast Guard boat had appeared, Percy'd silently prayed they wouldn't pick him out of the water and find him perfectly dry, which might've raised some eyebrows. So he'd willed himself to get soaked. Sure enough, his usual waterproof magic had abandoned him. He was also barefoot, because he'd given his shoes to Grover. Better the Coast Guard wondered why one of them was barefoot than wonder why one had hooves.

After reaching dry land, they stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. It felt as if they'd just come back from the dead-which they ACTUALLY had. Percy's backpack was heavy with Zeus's master bolt. His heart was even heavier from seeing his mother.

"I don't believe it," Annabeth said. "We went all that way-"

"It was a trick," Percy said. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

"Hey," she warned.

"You get it, don't you?"

She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. "Yeah. I get it."

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody-"

"Percy ..." Annabeth said. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry...."

"The prophecy was right," Percy said. "You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it."

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

Percy stopped in my tracks, looking down the beach. "Gee, let me think."

"...It isn't him. There's a spy in camp," Y/N said looking forward, "I can feel it in my gut."

And there he was, waiting for them, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Percy. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," he said. "You stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power-that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice."

The idea seemed to amuse him. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this ..."

Y/N thought about it when they continued talking to each other. That's right, who would it be? It wouldn't be Clarisse for sure because she might be good at fighting but strategies and making a plan work? A plan kept from everyone else? No, she would need help in that. It wasn't her. It's someone else. She tried her best not to think about the one person she admired a lot but she couldn't help it. There's a high chance that it's from a certain person who gifted them with a pair of flying shoes.

From his pocket Ares took out a ski cap-the kind bank robbers wear-and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helm of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."

"But they're your family!" Annabeth protested.

Ares shrugged. "Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say."

"You gave me the backpack in Denver," Percy said. "The master bolt was in there the whole time."

"Yes and no," Ares said. "It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. It always returns to your pocket, right?"

Percy wasn't sure how Ares knew about that, but a god of war had to make it his business to know about weapons, right?

"Anyway," Ares continued, "I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to the sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades.... Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way-no loss. I still had the weapon."

"But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself?" he asked. "Why send it to Hades?"

Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he were listening to another voice, deep inside his head. "Why didn't I ... yeah ... with that kind of firepower ..."

He held the trance for one second ... two seconds.... Percy exchanged nervous looks with Annabeth.

Ares's face cleared. "I didn't want the trouble. Better to have you caught red-handed, holding the thing."

"You're lying," he said. "Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn't your idea, was it?"

"Of course it was!" Smoke drifted up from his sunglasses, as if they were about to catch fire.

"You didn't order the theft," Percy guessed. "Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around."

"I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!"

"Who said anything about dreams?"

Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover it with a smirk.

"Let's get back to the problem at hand, kid. You're alive. I can't have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hardheaded idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal."

He snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar, even larger and uglier than the one whose head hung above the door of cabin seven at Camp Half-Blood. The beast pawed the sand, glaring at him with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill.

Percy stepped into the surf. "Fight me yourself, Ares."

He laughed, but Percy heard a little edge to his laughter ... an uneasiness. "You've only got one talent, kid, running away. You ran from the Chimera. You ran from the Underworld. You don't have what it takes."

"Scared?"

"In your adolescent dreams." But his sunglasses were starting to melt from the heat of his eyes. "No direct involvement. Sorry, kid. You're not at my level."

Annabeth said, "Percy, run!"

As the boar rushed towards him, Percy uncapped his pen and sidestepped. Riptide appeared in his hands. He slashed upward. The boar's severed right tusk fell at his feet, while the disoriented animal charged into the sea.

He shouted, "Wave!"

Immediately, a wave surged up from nowhere and engulfed the boar, wrapping around it like a blanket. The beast squealed once in terror. Then it was gone, swallowed by the sea.

He turned back to Ares. "Are you going to fight me now?" Percy asked. "Or are you going to hide behind another pet?"

Ares's face was purple with rage. "Watch it, kid. I could turn you into-"

"A cockroach," I said. "Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I'm sure. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?"

Flames danced along the top of his glasses. "Oh, man, you are really asking to be smashed into a grease spot."

"If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to go away."

"What are you saying?" Y/N said, panicking.

Ares sneered.

He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. "How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?"

Percy showed him his sword.

"That's cool, dead boy," Ares said. "Classic it is." The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "Don't do this. He's a god."

"He's a coward," he told her.

She swallowed. "Wear this, at least. For luck."

She took off her necklace, with her five years' worth of camp beads and the ring from her father, and tied it around his neck.

"Reconciliation," she said. "Athena and Poseidon together."

Percy face felt a little warm, but he managed a smile. "Thanks."

"And take this," Grover said. He handed him a flattened tin can that he'd probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. "The satyrs stand behind you."

"Grover ... I don't know what to say."

He patted him on the shoulder. He stuffed the tin can in his back pocket.

Y/N silently walked to him and looked at his face. She took his hand and held it for a moment. She was checking on his health and his heart...was racing. "Look, I don't have anything but.." she took off her necklace that Harris offered her, "I'm sure they would all stand by you." She tied it around his neck and said, "Come back in one piece and you'll get to hear me sing."

Percy's face brightened momentarily. His heart started calming down. "Thank you, Y/N...for always being there. I know we just met but I mean it."

"You all done saying good-bye?" Ares came toward him, his black leather duster trailing behind him, his sword glinting like fire in the sunrise. "I've been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?"

Police cars were burning behind them. The crowd of spectators had fled. Annabeth, Y/N and Grover stood on the beach, in shock, watching the water flood back around Ares's feet, his glowing golden ichor dissipating in the tide.

Ares lowered his sword.

"You have made an enemy, godling," he told me. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware."

His body began to glow.

'''Percy!" Annabeth shouted. "Don't watch!"

He turned away as the god Ares revealed his true immortal form.

The light died.

When he looked back. Ares was gone. The tide rolled out to reveal Hades's bronze helm of darkness. Percy picked it up and walked toward his friends.

But before he got there, he heard the flapping of leathery wings. Three evil-looking grandmothers with lace hats and fiery whips drifted down from the sky and landed in front of them.

The middle Fury, the one who had been Mrs. Dodds, stepped forward. Her fangs were bared, but for once she didn't look threatening. She looked more disappointed, as if she'd been planning to have him for supper, but had decided he might give her indigestion.

"We saw the whole thing," she hissed. "So ... it truly was not you?"

Percy tossed her the helmet, which she caught in surprise. "Return that to Lord Hades," he said. "Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war."

She hesitated, then ran a forked tongue over her green, leathery lips. "Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again ..."

She cackled, savoring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their bats' wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled sky, and disappeared.

"That's a weird way to say I wish you growth and flourishment in life," Y/N chuckled.

They were all staring at Percy in amazement.

"Percy ..." Grover said. "That was so incredibly ..."

"Terrifying," said Annabeth.

"Cool!" Grover corrected.

Percy didn't feel terrified. He certainly didn't feel cool. He was tired and sore and completely drained of energy. "Did you guys feel that... whatever it was?" He asked.

They nodded uneasily. "Must've been the Furies overhead," Grover said.

But Percy wasn't so sure. Something had stopped Ares from killing him, and whatever could do that was a lot stronger than the Furies. He looked at Annabeth, and an understanding passed between them. Percy knew now what was in that pit, what had spoken from the entrance of Tartarus.

He reclaimed his backpack from Grover and looked inside. The master bolt was still there. Such a small thing to almost cause World War III.

"We have to get back to New York," he said. "By tonight."

"That's impossible," Annabeth said, "unless we-"

"Fly," he agreed.

She stared at him. "Fly, like, in an airplane, which you were warned never to do lest Zeus strike you out of the sky, and carrying a weapon that has more destructive power than a nuclear bomb?"

"Yeah," he said. "Pretty much exactly like that. Come on."

"Word travels fast, and I think the gods know by know what went on," Y/N said.

Percy turned to her and smiled weakly, handing her back the necklace, "Don't forget your promise."

"I won't," Y/N said wearing it, "But for now, give me your hand."

"Wh-what?" Percy blushed a bit, looking momentarily at Annabeth's direction. He didn't want her to misunderstand whatever Y/N was planning on. Annabeth on the other hand was looking at her best friend with a smile, but...a concerning smile.

"I'm not taking it fully, it will be evenly distributed. Don't worry," Y/N said, smiling at Annabeth. She knew that she would be worried for her. Grover didn't have much idea of how far Y/N has learned but Annabeth did.

"Can you tell me what you guys are talking about?"

"Geez calm down Percy," Y/N chuckled, "I'm not asking for your hand in marriage."

Percy blushed and quickly held out his hand. Y/N took it for a moment and stayed quiet. She checked on his organs and it was all fine. He was okay, but his energy was...low. She smiled and closed her eyes.

He could feel something at that moment. Like a connection has formed, and he felt light...a bit better and stronger than before. Ofcourse, he still felt tired but it was a lot less now.

Y/N opened her eyes and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Better. Thanks,"

He tried removing his hand but she gripped it tight and said, "We are gonna have to walk like this till we reach Olympus." He looked at his friend, who was looking away at Grover. He gripped her hand with a smile and saw a blush form on her face. Grover had a strange look on his face. If it was some other time, he would've never thought of holding her hand and smile, but he was too tired to think about that. He just thought about how he wanted to protect her, and he did.

"Uh...and in the mean time I...will sing to you," Y/N said quickly, "We should go."

"I was promised a solo performance," Percy said, chuckling.

"Not really," she smirked, "I said you can hear me sing. I didn't say it was going to be solo."

Suddenly, Percy felt his mood dip down for a moment. But then he decided that there was going to be time left for that argument.

"Come on grandpa," Y/N laughed, "Stop being grumpy. The police are walking at us. I guess there's a bigger audience now."

next: chapter seventeen >

book one: the lightning thief

percy jackson x reader series

MASTERLIST

Tags: @the-natureofme @jumpingtrainsandflyingskies @idk-bye-no

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #percabeth #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy x annabeth #annabeth pjo #annabeth chase #annabeth x luke #pjo #pjoverse #pjo apollo

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peterxwade24 · 4 years

Text

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 3

So, I know it’s been a long time waiting for this chapter but it’s finally done! It is 3500+ words of Thana’s overprotective friends and Jason being an overprotective dad/brother.

Before I get into the chapter, I’m going to go over a few words that might trip you up. All of the translations are courtesy of Google Translate so if I’m using a word wrong feel free to correct it.

Baba is Papa. Aleuma is Auntie. Kutlat Saghira is Little Nugget.

Thana stood in front of the class, carefully going over her note cards for her presentation.

Mlle. Bustier smiled at the class before clapping. “Okay, everyone. Let’s settle down and give Ms. Dupain-Cheng our full attention.”

Lila, ever the attention seeker, allowed crocodile tears to well up in her eyes. “Mlle. Bustier. She’s going to copy my presentation. It’s not fair.”

Thana glanced up at the other girl, her blue-grey eyes cold. “Well, Lila. If you’d paid attention, you would know that M. Dupain and Mme. Cheng are my adoptive parents. I’m not doing my presentation on Italy. I’m doing my presentation on Gotham City, New Jersey, USA.” She nodded towards Mlle. Bustier and waited for her to put the slides up on the board before turning to look at the class. “Gotham City, New Jersey, USA is called the ‘most crime-ridden city’ by the locals. The GCPD, or Gotham City Police Department, is exactly what it sounds like. The police department of Gotham City. Most locals, however, do not respect the officers of the GCPD because of the vigilantes that roam the streets. The main vigilante is Batman, he’s also the oldest, he dresses in all black with a cowl on his head that has bat ear like protrusions on the top. After him is Nightwing. Nightwing is very flexible and most Gothamites, people from Gotham, speculate that he is in fact the first Robin. He dresses in a suit of black with a blue bird across his chest. Red Robin, who is widely speculated to be the third Robin, works alongside the first two but also alongside Spoiler. He dresses in a red and black suit with a yellow robin head in the center of his chest atop a pair of crossed bandoliers. Spoiler, who most believe was both the fourth Robin and the second Batgirl, dresses in a suit that is primarily purple with black on her chest. Signal, a member of the team, dresses in a yellow and black suit with a white bat on his chest. It is believed he may be a meta, which is shorthand for metahuman which is what they call people with powers. There is also Black Bat, who most believe was the third Batgirl, who wears a mostly black suit with a yellow bat on her chest and yellow detailing on her arms and around her ribs. Black Bat’s suit covers most of her face from her nose to her chin. Most Gothamites believe that the first Batgirl is working hand in hand with the rest of the team behind the scenes after an attack by the Joker left her paralyzed from the waist down.”

The class looked on in amazement at the high quality photos that went along with each hero, but also in fear as Thana gave a thorough rundown of all the heroes and villains, called Rogues, before Thana’s face split into a smile.

“-The Sirens, a group of three antihero turned Rogues who don’t behave the same way that most of the other Rogues do. They have been seen helping Batman, when it fits them. The Sirens refers to Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Catwoman wears a black leather catsuit, which is self explanatory in her name. Poison Ivy wears varying shades of green and plant life while Harley Quinn, who was once affiliated with the Joker, most commonly wears a light pink crop top under a pair of gold overalls. The Riddler and Scarecrow, two Rogues who are relatively harmless since they partnered up, are rather distinctive. The Riddler, who wears a green three piece suit with matching hat and a purple tie and domino mask, leaves riddles and clues. Scarecrow, who wears a grey three piece suit with a canvas sack over his head, injects or sprays people with what he calls Fear Toxin but recently he has cut back on the injections and only soaks the paper The Riddler’s riddles are written on in his fear toxin. The Penguin wears a black three piece suit with a white dress shirt and is most commonly accompanied by twin girls who are most commonly seen wearing black wigs, green dresses and Kabuki masks. The Great Rodolfo, whom most speculate is related to the Joker, wears a cream or tan suit jacket, plaid pants, a matching plaid vest and a different patterned plaid necktie. Lastly, there’s Red Hood,” Thana’s hands fisted at her sides and pressed her lips into a thin line, who has recently been spotted fighting alongside various members of Batman’s team. Most Gothamites believe him to be the second Robin returned from the dead. Red Hood wears a red helmet, a dark brown leather jacket, black pants with black boots and a black utility belt, a black shirt with a red bat on his chest, and a red long sleeved shirt under his black shirt.”

---

Thana wrapped her arms around Kim’s waist and let out a shuddery breath. “My brother is Red Hood and he wants me to know it’s him.”

Chloé frowned but nodded. “We’ll help you see him again. However, we need to set up people here to fight the Akumas and someone to get, at least, Adrien to purify the butterfly.”

Alix smiled and turned towards Chloé. “I have some friends in Mme. Mendelieve’s class who can assist us while we’re gone.”

Adrien nodded and smiled. “You mean Bellamy, Brielle, Marc, and Alicia?”

Alix nodded. “Alicia is very sneaky and would be pretty good at using the Mouse Miraculous. Marc is very trustworthy and may or may not already be planning a storyline involving a hero who’s based on them. They would be a good temporary Horse Miraculous user. Bellamy is the Mom friend of their friend group and kind of reminds me of the dragons from mythology who hoard things, so I was thinking about him for the Dragon Miraculous. And Brielle is awkwardly good at keeping people organized, the only person better is Vivienne, so she could probably wield the Bee Miraculous.”

Adrien grinned goofily and slung an arm around Alix’s shoulders. “Those are great suggestions and unless anyone else has anyone better I think we’ll go with them.” Adrien, as the de facto leader of the team, looked to Thana for his longtime partner’s opinion.

Thana nodded from where she was hiding amidst Kim’s red sleeves. “Bellamy was nice to me when I arrived and Alicia always shadows her friends.”

Nino glanced at Chloé before tapping his headphones. He knew she would know what he meant. Nino glanced at their friend, could see how out of it she was becoming, and locked eyes with Chloé.

Chloé, always okay with coming off as argumentative and brash, looked at her oldest friend with a smile before falling back into her usual bratty persona. “Not to say this hasn’t been fun but, this hasn’t been fun. Kim, Nino and I are going to take Fragolina back to mine. Thanks for having us and thank your dad and Jalil for not interrupting us for me Alix. Kim. Nino.”

Kim stood up slowly, making sure to not disturb Thana as he did so. He shed his red hoodie and draped it around Thana’s shoulders before pulling Nino to his feet. Nino, who took his headphones off and placed them atop Thana’s head before selecting one of his playlists and stuffing his phone into one of Kim’s pockets.

The boys guided Thana out of the room, while Chloé smiled at the two other members of their group. “Fragolina’s going through some things at the moment, because she just realized her brother isn’t as dead as she thought he was and wants her to know that he’s looking for her.”

Adrien pursed his lips before glancing at Alix. “I didn’t know she had a brother, did you?”

Alix shrugged. “She didn’t really talk to many of us when she got here.”

---

Thana settled against the pillows on Chloé’s bed with Kim’s hoodie looking as though it was swallowing her whole and the hood pulled up over her head and covering Nino’s headphones with the lyrics to The Neighbourhood’s “R.I.P.2 My Youth” transitioning to Fall Out Boy’s “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea” sounding in her ears. Nino’s phone was no longer in Kim’s pocket but plugged in while Chloé was packing clothes for their trip to the States.

Nino and Kim were trading practice blows in an area far away from Chloé’s closet. Or they were before Nino began flipping away from all of Kim’s attacks.

Chloé glanced at the boys before shaking her head and turning to their resident Gothamite. Chloé let a smile cross her face before turning to the four Kwamis, who were all relaxing in a large dollhouse, and raising a brow. “What are you four doing?”

Plagg and Trixx wore matching grins while Stompp simply crossed their arms over their chest and Sass began humming a tune. “Relaxing, what does it look like we’re doing?” Plagg’s face broke out in a larger grin before he relaxed into Trixx’s side.

Chloé simply shook her head at the four Kwamis. “Why don’t you four go relax with Fragolina?”

-*-*-*

Jason smiled as he picked up his Little Nugget and settled him on his hip. “Hey Little Nugget. Did you sleep well?”

Damian nodded before burying his face in Jason’s shoulder. “Who are they?”

Jason adjusted his hold on Damian to allow for Damian to see the two girls. “You remember Lady Shiva, don’t you?” He waited for Damian to nod before he continued. “The girl with the dark hair is Lady Shiva’s daughter, Cassandra. The blonde haired girl is Stephanie Brown. Do you remember when Bruce proclaimed that he wouldn’t have his children hanging out with the children of bad people?” Damian pursed his lips in thought, something he picked up from Jason, before nodding again. “Lady Shiva is a bad guy, as is Stephanie’s father. But, by Bruce’s standards so are Talia and Ra’s.”

Cassandra bowed, low to the floor, in Damian’s presence. Cassandra would never forget her training, and all must bow before the Heir of the Demon’s Head.

Stephanie gave a two finger salute with a smile. “Sup?”

Dick and Tim emerged from the bedroom they crashed in the night before. “Jason? Does this place have coffee?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Am I going to have a Tamaranean princess and a half-Tamaranean tyke breaking into the apartment you’re helping pay for?”

Dick’s eyes widened before he dove for the couch, where he left his phone the night before. He let out a victorious shout when he found his phone still had battery life left. He tapped out a text to Kory before turning back to his brothers. “No.”

---

Jason kept watching for danger out of the corners of his eyes, even though it was noon and he was in a supermarket, he couldn’t take any chance now that he had his Little Nugget and two sisters to watch out for. He saw a familiar man with short red hair leading a man with long brown hair, a familiar red haired woman and her companion, a familiar blonde haired woman, turn down aisles further down. “Stephanie Jeanelle Brown. Put down the toaster waffles. Take Cassandra and go find the boxed waffle mix, and while you’re there grab some pancake mix and syrup. Dick, Tim, go find some fruits that will keep for more than a week.”

The four teens nodded before going off to do what was asked of them. Damian, however, pouted from beside Jason. “Why do they get to go get things while I’m stuck with you?”

“Because, Little Nugget, I’m not afraid someone will steal them and make me reconsider how I feel about murder now that it’s not just me.” Jason smiled and ruffled Damian’s hair, which had grown out since Jason had first taken him. “I just want to keep you within eyesight because there are unsavoury characters who live in Gotham and darken the streets. I know technically I’m your brother but I feel like you are my child and I will do everything in my power to protect you, like I couldn’t protect your aunt my sister.”

Damian glanced up at Jason, a look of confusion on his face. “But I thought there were only three girls in the family in the right age range.”

Jason’s face melted into a faraway look and tightly pursed lips. “She was four when I met her, this tiny little slip of a child covered in bruises with dark red hair and blue grey eyes. I was following her, like most street kids would have, when she got the drop on me and then pinned me into the shadows beside a dumpster because her father was walking towards the alley we were in. I became Robin when I was twelve and she was nine, and then CPS and GCPD dragged her from one of our nests and took her away from here. I just found out about that at the press conference.” Jason’s blue green eyes kept sweeping the aisles looking for anyone who could pose a threat to his family. He saw, instead, Selina Kyle deciding between two different laundry detergents in one aisle and Oswald Cobblepot, accompanied by Pere and Gale, deciding between two different kinds of cereal.

Damian took in the information Jason gave him, knowing that Jason would tell him anything he asked even if it was painful to think about. “Who’s her father?”

“Jervis Tetch, aka Mad Hatter.” Jason’s voice was filled with so much venom he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “He’s a very bad man and if you ever hear anything about him, you run away. The Iceberg Lounge will provide you sanctuary if you can’t make it back to the apartment.”

Damian nodded as he allowed himself to be caged in by Jason’s arms so he was between Jason and the shopping cart.

Stephanie and Cass returned triumphantly with waffle mix, pancake mix and syrup. Followed by Dick and Tim a few minutes later.

Dick turned to Jason with a wry grin. “Is there a real reason we’re shopping at this store at this time of day? Or did you just want to surround yourself with other people who love your Pixie?”

Jason glanced up and made eye contact with Ed Nygma. Jason waved with a small smile on his face before Ed grabbed John’s arm and dragged him to the six siblings.

“Big Todd.” Ed called in lieu of greeting.

John nodded with a smile.

“Are you ever going to give that up?” Jason shook his head fondly. “Ed, John. This is Damian, my Little Nugget. Little Nugget, these are your aunt’s Uncles Ed and John.”

Ed nodded. “Have you tried to get in contact with her?”

John pressed a kiss to Ed’s cheek before looking at their present company. “Now might not be the best place to converse about this topic Love.”

Ed nodded before he let John drag him away. “We must converse again.”

---

Jason smiled as he tucked Damian into bed, before closing the bedroom door. He slumped back into the kitchen and with an exhausted sigh he set about finishing the dishes from the day’s meals. He paused to think about what Ed had said in the store. Would she even want to hear from him? Would she be receptive to talking to him or getting in contact with him?

Tim walked into the kitchen, intending to get a glass of water then go back to bed, when he stumbled upon Jason lost in thought. “Jason?” Tim stood next to Jason and gently pried a plate out of Jason’s hand. “Jason? Can you hear me?”

Jason shook himself out of his stupor and turned to the smaller boy. “Replacement? What are you doing up at this hour?”

Tim shrugged nonchalantly. “I was going to get a glass of water.”

Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed a glass out for Tim. “Sure.” Jason leaned against the counter and watched as Tim filled the glass with water.

Tim smiled at his older brother. “Were you thinking about what Nygma said?”

Jason ruffled Tim’s hair with a half smile on his face. “She was my only family for many years.” Jason turned back to the sink still full of dishes with a chuckle. “Go back to bed Replacement.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

Jason finished the dishes before dragging his still damp hands through his hair. He let out a tired sigh before turning around, to find discarded clothing covering his couch. He picked up a laundry basket and tossed all of the clothing into the basket. He glanced around the living room and nodded, satisfied with how clean it was. “We’ll have to clean up the apartment tomorrow, as long as Wayne doesn’t call us in.” Jason muttered as he put the laundry basket down on the counter and walked into his bedroom and curled around Damian.

---

Jason, with Damian settled on his left hip, stared at Bruce Wayne who was standing at the door to the apartment building. He raised a single eyebrow as he turned to have his right side facing Bruce. “Can I help you Mr. Wayne?”

“We need to talk.”

Jason snorted. “Then you can do it while walking. We’re meeting someone soon and we’re walking.”

Tim, Steph and Cass brushed past the trio. “Bye Jace! We’re gonna go hang with Kon, Cassie and Bart for a few hours!”

“Text when you get there and when you’re leaving! If we’re not home before you call to let me know you made it home safe!”

“Bye Jason!” Steph called while Cass waved.

Jason turned back to Bruce and raised his eyebrows. “Walk and talk Wayne.” Jason hitched Damian further up on his hip and started to push past Bruce, when Dick beat him to it.

“Call me if you need something or if one of the others needs something. I’ve gotta go home to Kor’i and Mar’i.”

“See you later Dickiebird.”

“See you Jaybird, see you Chick.”

Damian simply waved at Dick and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. “Bye-bye.”

Jason watched Dick walk away with a smile on his face. He turned to Bruce and frowned.

“Jason-”

“Baba. Go.”

“In a minute Kutlat Saghira.” Jason pressed a kiss to Damian’s cheek. “Do you want to walk and talk or-”

“What did he just call you?” Bruce cut Jason off. “What did you just call him?”

“I called him Little Nugget, and last time I checked I didn’t have to tell you anything.” Jason shook his head and pushed past Bruce. “Are you ready to meet some friends Little Nugget?”

Damian nodded and smiled.

---

Jason pushed open the door to the Iceberg Lounge and smiled as the chilled air cooled the sweat on the back of his neck. “This is where we’re meeting some friends of your Aleuma.”

Damian smiled and patted Jason’s chest, his nonverbal way of saying he wants down.

“Don’t run off, stick close. Not everyone in here is friends with your Aleuma.”

Damian nodded before the two men from the supermarket approached them.

“Jason.” the man with brown hair smiled as he extended his hand to Jason.

“Mr. Crane. Have you been keeping your nose out of trouble?”

John laughed and nodded. “Of course, Ed keeps me in line.”

Ed laughed and shook his head. “Someone has to.”

The red haired woman and her blonde haired companion strolled into the area with matching smiles on their faces.

“Sundew.” The red haired woman called.

“Little bird.” Her blonde companion chirped.

Jason waved. “Damian, the red haired lady is Doctor Pamela Isley and her lovely companion is Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Pam, Harley, this is Damian al Ghul-Wayne. However, he’s more my son than Wayne’s at this point.”

Pam and Harley waved at Damian before offering him smiles.

“Oswald!” Jason called to a portly man across the lounge.

The man, followed by two women dressed in green long sleeved dresses and Kabuki masks, walked over to Jason with a smile on his face. “Todd. It’s good to see you.”

“You too old man.” Jason bowed to the two women. “Pere. Gale.”

The women bowed back.

“Damian, this is Oswald Cobblepot, your Aleuma liked him for some reason and he gave us shelter on more than a few nights.”

Oswald Cobblepot held out a hand to Damian with a smile on his face. “Hello there Damian.”

“Hello.” Damian smiled and stood taller. “Baba. I’m taller.”

Jason snorted. “I see that Little Nugget.” Jason glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door move.

“Hey, Ozzy? You heard from-” Jerome stopped talking before his face split in a smile. “Hoodie! You’re back!”

“Hey Rome.” Jason waved. “Come meet Damian.”

Damian tilted his head in a confused puppy manner before the red haired man appeared from behind Jason. “Is he?”

Jerome extended a hand to Damian with a more mild grin on his face. “Hi. I’m Jerome Valeska, although most of these people know me better as The Great Rodolfo. You must be Damian Todd.”

Damian preened for a moment before coming back to the moment. “Technically, Baba says my name’s still Damian al Ghul-Wayne but I like Damian Todd.”

Taglist

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @lilkymilky

After this, there will be a short titled “Pixie?!” featuring Jason fresh from the grave and the appearance of Talia al Ghul using his panicked state against him.

#maribat #ml crossover #mlb crossover #ml x dc #mlb x dc #gothamite!Marinette #platonic sibling jasonette #Safety Found in Red Sleeves #sfirs

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wackapedia · 5 years

Text

Le Éclatant

Four/Billy x Reader

a/n: im back at my bullshit writing for Ben Hardy!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and swearing

You were in one of your father's lavish parties. Actually, the country club throws parties almost every week. You walk through the crowd of boomers, sipping your drink, hoping it was a little stronger. One of the country club wives complement your dress. She says the exact same thing everytime you meet at a party. It's all so fake and exhausting.

Tonight's event was even more lavish than usual. The President of some other rich bitch club is here to celebrate an anniversary of some sorts. That means there's twice the drinks, twice the crowd, twice the fakery. You were tying your hair into a simple ponytail when three knocks rattle your solid mahogany door. Your father enters, carrying a box. "I want you to wear this." You take the box and open it to reveal a thick diamond-studded collar necklace. The Éclatant. Valued at over a hundred million, the Éclatant was originally commissioned for a Maharajah during the late 1800s. It came to your family's possession years ago when your French great great grandfather traveled to the east. Some uncles say he became good friends with a gallant rajah, others say he murdered one. This necklace was just one of your family's private collection of art. And tonight, you get to wear it. "Why?" You ask, carefully picking up the heavy necklace, testing how the pendant fits your neckline. "Mister Bradford is coming to the party.. " he begins. "Lions squad president, I know.. " you interject. "Lions club." He pointedly looks at you before continuing, "his son, Oliver is coming." He takes the necklace from your hands before opening the clasp and putting it around your neck. "I want you to look nice and pretty for him. We're looking into a company merger." The clasp clicks at the back of your neck. "What? Why do we need to merge companies? We're more than comfortable having too much money!" You stare daggers at your father through the mirror. "Nothing is ever enough. You will understand this when you're older, and you'll thank me for it." He raises his voice, ending the discussion. You prepare to walk into the venue of the party, waiting outside the grand doors. It was an event hall that was still part of your family's estate. You note several bodyguards scattered at almost every French window of the hall. With big shits present, security was insane. Additional cameras were even installed just for this event. The doors to the event hall finally open for you. The sounds of your heels are muffled by the carpet. The crowd gasps at your lavish necklace. They applaud. You think it's ridiculous. Your father walks in soon, still getting applauded. Mister Bradford arrives with his son, gets applauded as well. The party begins after a short opening statement. You stand away from the crowd. You could not hold a conversation with such shallow minds. You sip your champagne, staring outside through the French windows, enjoying the view of the dark estate. You notice a trail of shadows moving quickly in the distance. You were snapped out by a hand tapping at the other side of the window's glass. You look down to see a handsome stranger dressed in all casual black, crouching at the floor, looking up at you. He motions for you to open the window. You put your champagne down to unhinge the window's lock and push it open. As soon as you do, he grabs your hand and pulls you out, shutting the window closed. Your eyes dart through the patio to see all security personnel on the ground, heads burst, bleeding all over. You were about to scream when the green-eyed stranger covers your mouth. "Hey hey shhh it's fine it's okay I'm here to save you." His face, mere inches from yours and his British accent bring you a sense of calm. He pulls you away from the dead security personnel before letting go of your mouth, but still holding your arm, pressing you between him and a wall. "What do you want?" You shakily ask the handsome stranger. "Me? Nothing, love, I'm trying to save you-" "Bullshit. You have a gun in your belt. How much do you want?!" You were starting to get hysterical. "Or I'm just happy to see you?" He teases, a delicious smirk decorating his face. Just after he speaks, a series of gunshots and screams erupt from the hall. You try to push him out of your way but he pushes you back into the wall. "Those were just warning shots. We're only taking Bradford." He explains, looking you in the eye, no hint of dishonesty in them despite being a stranger. "Winston?" You guess. That old man surely has some nasty business going on. "No. Oliver. The kid runs an underground cartel that sells children as slaves." The blonde reveals. "What?! That son of a bitch has enough money from the company! Why would he do that?" You raise your voice out of surprise. "Yeah. The cartel is based in Natumbe, in Africa. We're teaching him a lesson." He pulls away from you, noticing the team already wrapping up from inside. "Well, he deserves it." You slide your hand through your hair. "Fuck the rich." You mutter. The man smiles. "I'd love to, sweetheart, but we gotta go." He winks at you. "But i'll hold you to it!" He starts to leave the patio, facing the moist grass of the estate, towards a black getaway van. Before he steps off however, he faces you again and places his hand on the side of your neck. Before you know it, his soft cold lips are on yours, kissing you. You find yourself kissing back, feeling his cheeky smile spread before he pulls away and jogs toward the van. A man carrying who you presume to be Oliver in a sack was yelling profanities at the man you just kissed. He called him 'four' if you heard correctly? As the car drives away, you look up to see a surveillance camera pointed directly at you. "Ah shit I thought they were professionals." You sake your head, pulling out your phone and infiltrate the estate's security network. You deleted all footages from tonight, downloading the clips into your phone. You walk back to the almost empty hall, most guests leaving as soon as they can. People rushing to the exit, bumping against you counterflowing. Soon enough you spot your father, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. "Wh-where is the necklace?!" He screams. Your hands fly to your neck, finding it devoid of the precious jewelry. That sneaky bastard. "I'm fine dad." You sarcastically answer, heading outside to the parking lot. Your father continues to nag about the necklace, not even bothering to ask about you. Fortunately, you knew the necklace had a tracker. Using the estate's security network, the necklace's whereabouts are mapped within a radius as wide as the state of Alabama. You had no trouble picking up it's distant frequency signal as well as the IP address of any device near it. ---------- The underground team was driving away from the estate, trying to keep Oliver Bradford silent as he cried out for his mum. "Mate, are you fucking serious?" Four cocks a gun to Oliver's sack-clad head. He wails even louder. "Just fucking knock him out!" One yells from the front seat, Seven getting the job done smacking the back of his head. "Thank you!" One sighs. A ridiculous song from a Disney channel show suddenly starts playing. Everyone groans except for Three who starts singing along. Two fishes the ringing phone from Oliver Bradford's suit pocket and prepares to throw it out the car before One stops her. He looks at the screen to find an Unknown Number calling. One answers and puts it on speaker mode. "Hello?" ---------- "Hey.. "You recognize the voice on the other line as the man who yelled at 'four' as he was leaving. Your phone was on speaker mode, laying against the leather upholstery of the front seat of your car. You floored the accelerator through the empty road, still hoping to catch up with them. "I'm looking for a guy you called as 'Four'?" There was a long silence at the other end. ---------- "Four, what the fuck is this?" One faces Four from the front seat after putting the phone on mute. "I don't know what you're talking about!" Four yells as the rest of the crew complain. One unmutes the phone and asks: “Miss, if you're looking to get Bradford back-" "Oh no I don't give two shits about Bradford. What I am most concerned is that your buddy, Four, stole not only a kiss, but also a multi-million dollar necklace from me..." One's jaw drops, shaking his head while looking at Four. "And you dipshits probably didn't know about the tracking device in it.." you continue. One raises his gun to Four who was laughing hysterically as he recalled the kiss. "Plus you guys are just really dumb to forget about the security camera footage... " The phone dings, receiving the video footage you just sent. "Alright, do you want your necklace back?" One answers through gritted teeth, gripping the phone dangerously tight. "... Nah. I want in." One's eyebrows shoot to his hairline. "E-excuse me?" "I don't know exactly what vigilante club you guys are running but you are in desperate need of a hacker." You confidently explain while driving, their black van now visible. You blow the horn of your Cadillac twice. "That's me" you speak. One contemplates for a while before going "Alright, pull over. We'll talk."

#6 underground fanfiction #ben hardy x reader #four x reader #four/billy x reader #6 underground x reader

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thattimdrakeguy · 5 years

Text

Why people aren’t liking Tim Drake’s soon to be costume

I see people curious as to why people aren’t enjoying Tim Drake’s new costume. The most simple way of explaining is just to say it’s just bad character design.

This is the costume people aren’t liking

Even ignoring the color scheme, because the color scheme can work for some characters. It’s worked for characters like Wolverine before. So it’s not that the color of the costume is brown, black (maybe gray), and yellow.

It’s just that it’s not a good character design for Tim.

A character design is supposed to let people know a lot about the character when you look at them.

With animated movies or shows it’s a little easier, you can make them look more menacing or sweeter just by the expression on their face, but with live action, and to a certain extent comics, costume design matters a lot.

Not to say how you draw the person doesn’t matter, it matters a heck of a lot, you draw the character in a way that doesn’t represent the character well and you’ve ruined the perception of them, but

costume design matters a heckuva lot too, because comics is a more realistically styled medium of art.

Indiana Jones as a teacher dresses in tweed and smart glasses because he’s highly intelligent.

Indiana Jones as an adventurer wears dusty practical clothes, and carries around a bag to keep his stuff in so it’s on him at all time, because he’s a (mostly) serious and practical adventurer.

You get a really good idea of who Indiana Jones is just by looking at his costume.

It works the same way for superheroes in their costumes if they’re done well.

With Batman he’s dark, mysterious, and practical. The cowl doesn’t let you see too much of his face, his costume is typically colored to make it easy for him to blend into the shadows, and his cape allows himself to hide himself more. It fits the whole entire aura the character is suppose to give off.

Spider-Man wears a thing full body suit, because he needs to hide his boyish face, and he needs to be able to hide it under his street clothes. It’s also has bright and bombastic colors that allow him to be seen at night because his personality is pretty loud himself. So it’s just very fitting in that way.

To use an example of this in the very same comic: Conner Kent has good character design, you feel like you know who he is when you look at him with a leather jacket with spikes, and an overall punk-ish look. You know he’s rebellious and not very shy about himself right away.

Even with Bart: it’s simplistic, easy to run in, and more or less just features a basic lightning bolt. He’s’s a simple thinker (which matches with the simple design), he’s fast so the tight look works, and he’s full of energy which also works well with the lightning bolt, it just works. It immediately gives you an idea of how Bart conducts himself.

Tim’s last costume even: Boyish with the short sleeves, slick, ninja-esque, with armor. He’s 16, dweeby and acts comparatively average so a boyish look really works for him. He has to be sneaky, he’s been trained to be like a ninja, and isn’t as strong as his other teammates. It had bright enough colors to let you know he wasn’t as shy or mysterious as Batman is, but it’s still dark in the right areas like his cape and tights to show that he’s at least still a little bit mysterious plus good at the sneaky stuff, and it also doubles as making his costume being more practical. It’s excellent character design through and through.

Amethysts costume is pretty much a BAMF princess. That’s her character.

Cassie and Keli are casual, street clothes, with only a shirt that tells people who they are, because they’re pretty freaking casual generally laid-back people (except when you get on their nerves).

and well, Jinny’s a cowgirl, she dresses as a cowgirl.

With good character design you just feel like you know about them from just one good look at them.

Red Robin was a good costume for Tim at the time of Red Robin even, he wasn’t acting like himself, so he didn’t dress like himself. It was sort of the whole point of the costume and especially the cowl. It worked well because of the story, but not so much the character all the time, as in, that costume wouldn’t work anymore.

Batman’s costume works all the time, because besides minor changes to fit the character at the time or what was the tastes at the time, the dark, mysterious vibe just always fit him. So that’s a different story.

Tim’s soon to be costume doesn’t have any character to it, I’ve seen people say it makes him look wiser, older, more dangerous, but that’s not his character right now.

He’s teasing more, he’s 16 still, and besides one page he hasn’t really been all that dangerous either.

So as a character design it just doesn’t work for who he is at the moment.

When you look at Tim’s soon to be costume, it tells you nothing about him. His costume is going to be colored in a way that’s more considered old fashioned, rough, and been around since it’s brown.

Hence why it works for someone like Wolverine, who is all of those things.

Brown can also mean loyal, safe, and dependable though.

Which does fit Tim quite a bit.

But there’s also the matter of his story now,

because the colors also mean, sad, isolated, and lonely at the same time.

Which is the complete opposite of the personal story he’s in. Which is warm and fuzzy.

His story is finding his friends, getting his life back, and finally learning to be happy again.

The color brown doesn’t fit what his story or character is, and not enough traits of the color warrant it’s inclusion in his costume.

Making it a really poor choice.

Even when looking past the colors and you just look at the costume, there’s nothing to it. It’s a basic modern superhero costume.

It has more noticeable armor to restrict it from looking like the basic tights of a classic superhero costume, and there’s also random yellow lines all over it.

They don’t set up much of a vibe for his character.

It does nothing that a good costume design is suppose to do.

When you take away the colors of the other teammates costume it doesn’t change the basic details the design gives them. They work about the same if the comic was colored in nothing but black and whites (or at least for the most part if the style of the comic needed it, the colors are the finishing touches after all).

Conner still looks rebellious, Cassie looks casual, Jinny’s still a cowgirl, Amethyst’s a princess, Bart’s simple but hyper, and Keli is practical, while previous Tim was a boyish but slick ninja.

With Tim’s new costume you get nothing out of it one way or another, it’s bizarrely chosen color scheme is the only reason it sticks out to anyone, and the colors don’t work for the character at the moment.

It just has yellow lines. There’s nothing to the design that make it all that good to make it stick out as a character design. It feels like it has nothing to do with Tim, and what you could stretch to feel like Tim is typically because of the color and the color itself presents way more things that make it feel like a terrible Tim color.

So there’s nothing there that works for Tim as his costume. Which is why people really aren’t liking it.

The bases of good character design just aren’t there in Tim’s new costume.

It says nothing, and it’s color choices don’t fit the character it was made to be worn by.

Tan works for an old fashioned cowgirl who just lost her mom like Jinny, but it’s not for someone who’s learning to be happy and find his friends again like Tim.

If the theories of it being a costume Naomi gave Tim are true, then it could be excused a bit more, but if it’s his permanent costume, it’s still a bad choice of costume for him.

Being the colors of motor-oil and gasoline isn’t a color that should be the first thing people notice about Tim and his costume.

No one involved with the comic is even saying if this is gonna be his permanent costume, but the lack of anyone saying anything else just isn’t pleasant either.

Saying “it’s not that bad” doesn’t take away the natural vibes that the color brings to the table, or the lack of any personality to be seen in the costume with it’s detail.

“It’s not that bad” doesn’t make it good. It just means it’s not that bad to you. Which doesn’t take away from how that’s your opinion, but when I’m seeing “it’s not that bad” used to it’s defense, it starts to get annoying, because it feels like a lot of the obvious (or I suppose not so obvious for some) is being ignored.

You can like it though, that’s not why I’m upset, and making this post.

It’s just starting to get annoying because I see ones talking about people being upset at his new look like it’s completely silly to be upset, when there’s enough reasons to not like it.

When you really care about a character, he just had his own best design in years even, and it’s already being taken away after not having it that long to begin with to be replaced for something that really lacks in everything, it’s majorly disappointing.

Young Justice seemed really promising when it was first being advertised, and even in it’s first couple of issues, but when you start taking away the things that make it promising, of course people are going to be disappointed.

Don’t treat people like it’s silly to not like a costume just because you don’t think it’s that bad. Not every type of upset equals firey impractical rage.

Sometimes it’s just frustrating disappointment, because it keeps happening too much.

Tim deserved better, and a lot of people just seem to think so.

Even if people get used to this costume, and quiet down because nothing’s changing. That still doesn’t mean they did a good job on the costume, or that it’s good costume design for Tim.

That still sticks.

#Tim Drake #Bat-Family #Bat-Fam #BatFamily #BatFam #DC Comics #Robin #Wonder Comics #Young Justice #Young Just Us

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shebeafancyflapjack · 4 years

Text

King Takes Knight (Part 6)

Eleanor has a choice.

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

“Okay. If you’re gonna do this. You need to have a plan.”

Eleanor closes the door to Michael’s office. Funny, she still thinks of it as his, even when she’s spent more time occupying it alone so far this year. She tries to avoid being here alone. It’s far too painful to sit in the big chair and watch the door, wishing with all her heart that the dumb demon will waltz back in, safe and sound, at any moment.

She walks across the room and around the desk. His jacket is still thrown over the back of the chair from when he quickly got changed between Mindy’s and the train station. The stains from Glenn’s goo seem to have evaporated.

There’s a tug in her chest as she strokes the fabric.

“I have a plan! I’m gonna lift the barricade up, disguise myself as a Bad Janet, go in, find Michael and get him out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Fun fact, a man named John White invented the lemon squeezer because they’re not easy to squeeze at all-.”

“Okay, no, that plan sucks. It’s exactly what they’ll expect because it’s what you already did. You can’t go in there on your own.”

Janet frowns; “Are you going to suggest you guys come too? Because as you said, that’s the last thing Michael would want, for you guys to be put in danger. I’m not mortal, the threat to my wellbeing is less of a risk, and you can always ask the Judge for a reset in the event of a second capture.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that...But we’re not your only option.” Eleanor says, looking over to Derek in the corner, licking a light bulb like a popsicle.

Her hands pick the jacket up. She holds it close to her front, inhaling the scent in the collar. That strange smell she always picked up whenever near to Michael, like something out of an old attic and yet sweeter than chocolate and warm like a nearby bonfire tickles her nose.

Fingers curl tightly into the grey wool. She doesn’t want this to be the most she has left of him anymore. She wants him back.

The doofus had one job to do for her and he couldn’t...

Eleanor sighs and slips her arms into the jacket before taking a seat in the chair. It’s far too big for her, almost like an overcoat or a bathrobe. She wraps it tight around her frame as she slumps back in the seat. Something about wearing it makes her feel as if he’s there, the same reason why she always takes one of Chidi’s sweaters to bed with her, like a needy kid with a security blanket.

All her life she secretly dreamed of having at least one person to truly love her. Then two come along at once and they both end up sacrificing themselves.

Couldn’t she have fallen in love with someone as selfish as her?

“Hey Eleanor.” Janet bings in front of the desk.

She jumps, starting a little, pulling her face out of the collar she had been close to crying into.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” She hurriedly covers, sitting up straight, attempting some semblance of dignity; “W-what’s up?”

“I’ve finished making enough Janet babies I need to take with me. They’re all boarded on the train, including the clones of you guys. Even I gotta say, they’re pretty creepy. But great idea!”

Eleanor just nods, fingers tapping the desk. If she couldn’t come with Janet on the rescue mission then the best she could do was lend her strategic skills.

“And the demon exploders?” Thanks for that, Bad Janet.

“I think I was able to improve on the design after examining the one Michael handed to me before he...” She cuts herself off, “We’ll be fine, Eleanor. I made quite a few in case they rumble us.”

“If you have to, be sure to burst a few for me, won’t you.” She tells her sexy not-robot friend; “And please...be safe, babe.”

And bring him back, she doesn’t say, almost as if it was asking too much.

It doesn’t need saying.

“We’ll be back before you know it. Literally, because you won’t be alerted of my train coming in with me gone and Derek’s sensor is busted.”

She bings out of the room. Eleanor sits back again, arms wrapped around herself and the jacket. Now she’s back to where she was a few months ago, wishing for her friends safe return, while the fate of humanity hangs in the balance. She has no choice. She has to stay. Put the experiment first. It’s what Michael and Chidi both sacrificed themselves for. It would be insulting them if she were to make it all for nothing.

It must be a trick.

They’ve got bored of the freezing and the hooks and the violent fish. Now they wanna screw up his head. He already hallucinates, isn’t that enough? He would normally think this was just another one of those but...Nicole’s goo drips from his nose. Yep, she definitely blew up.

And there, almost a yard behind her, is....the Impossible.

Eleanor stands with Bad Janet’s demon exploder clutched in her hand, arms straightened in front of her, blue goo from other demons staining her red sweater and the black leather jacket he hasn’t seen her wear in a while. Sneaky little so-and-so. Did she really come all the way down here, shooting her way through immortal guards, to...rescue...him...?

He would laugh, if the wave of exhaustion wasn’t crushing him down, as well as the wires in his mouth. It’s too much. He’s held out for far too long and now his mind has snapped.

Don’t fall for it, Mike. Don’t give them the satisfaction of hoping.

She wanted him gone. Out of her hair for good. She wanted him to-

His body goes slack in his ice chains as the underworld goes dark.

He loves you.

He lied.

He loves you.

He tortured them for centuries and lied about it, over eight hundred times.

He loves you.

He didn’t trust her enough to say what he really was underneath the suit. He thought she was shallow enough to not want to be friends with him after finding out he’s some giant flaming squid. He was supposed to be her best friend! Did he think so little of her? After all those weeks of supporting her, encouraging her, giving her a shoulder to cry on, followed by a gentle kick up the ash to get her shirt together?

And as if she was going to be all soft and reassure him of how much he meant to her after the crab he put her through that night. He expected her to be the one to apologise!?

He loves you.

You must know that. You’re not an idiot.

Oh...the stupid demon loves her enough to disobey her one order and not come back safe! The stupid demon offers to blow himself up in order to give her peace of mind when she doesn’t trust him and leave her in charge of this shirt show on her own. The dumb, reckless ash-hole stayed behind to be tortured, again, for their sakes...Not for the first time.

Fork. She is an idiot!

Eleanor shrugs off the jacket and grabs her own leather one off the back of the door. She has a train to catch.

Damn it, why didn’t she take a better coat with her? Or a scarf? Or gloves?

The chamber she discovers Michael in is like a huge igloo. Every surface seems to be made of ice except, thank Kim, the floor, or else she’d be falling flat on her ass as soon as she strode in after taking out the slutty demoness who had been messing with Michael. Eleanor steels herself, braving the cold and letting the adrenaline warm her up after having snuck her way down here, taking out a few necessary obstacles on the way with her new favorite toy.

Her heart beats terribly fast as she spots Michael chained up, pale as a ghost, slumped in the shackles they’ve put him in. His clothes are ragged and torn up, the wounds from where he’s been recently cut and sliced and scalded all too evident to the naked eye.

“Michael...!” She breathes his name as she reaches him, finding no response as his head rolls forward; “Michael, I’m here! Wake up!”

She puts her hands to his chin and tries to lift it up, cringing at the awful sight of what they’ve done to his mouth. Jesus!

Digging around in what remains of the slutty demon’s goo and dress fragments, she eventually finds the key to the shackles. She fumbles with it in the locks as she works to set him free.

As she works to open the second one, she drops it. Fuck! Get it together, Shellstrop! They could come in at any moment!

She scoops it up and turns it in the blisteringly cold metal.

Michael tumbles to the ground in a heap of long limbs.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Eleanor curses as she fails to catch up, the dumb tree too much for her to attempt to lift upright on her own. She kneels over him; “Dude, c’mon! Come on, get up! Michael!”

Her fingers brush against her cheek and-

“FUCK!” She curses, pulling her hand back.

He’s almost too cold to touch. There’s flecks of snow on his eyelashes and in his white hair, lines on his face deeper than she remembers, skin sunken in, littered with black and purple marks.

Eleanor places one hand on his back, the other on his chest, just barely able to keep hold of him with the remnants of his shirt beneath her palms.

She wishes she could feel his heartbeat, if he had one.

Just some sign, anything, anything at all...that he’s going to open his eyes again. That she wasn’t too late.

“Michael, you need to get up! You can’t bail on me now, please, not after I finally got here! You gotta come home, dude....I can’t do this without you. Just wake the fuck up before-.” Her teeth start to chatter as she hears footsteps racing from outside.

Someone’s coming. More guards? The Janet baby army? A couple were lost on the way, marbleised, before Eleanor was able to zap the guards. Then she had to abandon the rest in order to get to the location Janet sent over the intercom to one of her baby’s, Ralfio’s, mouth.

Eleanor has no idea what’s about to come through that door. Friend or foe. Janet(s) or demons.

She’s not giving up now.

Keeping hold of Michael on her lap, she sets her jaw, getting out the demon exploder from her jacket pocket, firing it up.

“I won’t let them touch you, bud. Not again.” She whispers, clutching his lifeless skinsuit close to her front; “That’s a promise.”

Her hand is steady around the weapon, her eyes glaring with hellfire at the entrance. She forgets about the cold.

Just try to take him away from me again, demon scum. Just try it.

(illustration by @star-pepper xx)

#whump #angst #rescue #tgp fanfic #i will beta this before it goes on ao3 #i wasn't expecting a plot it just happened #tgp fanart

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

Text

Princess of Parnassus

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

The night was uncommonly warm, for a Christmasland Eve, Charlie thought, even as he looked at his own personified Summertime, in her fluttery blue sky dress with its white blooms, and those evergreen eyes that winter itself was loathe to kill. She smiled softly at him, catching him looking at her, noticing the opal specks on the glistening wings of her gold butterfly necklace. He'd picked it up at an antique shop in Hartford, after following her to the library one day. I caught you, My Butterfly, now didn't I?

She had just reached for the passenger side door of the Wraith, yanking him out of his reveries of watching her read alone in the park, laying in the grass as green and proliferous as her eyes, snapping up her hand just in time, smiling sheepishly. He had made a few small, shall we say, adjustments to The Wraith where her touch was concerned....... Women really shouldn't drive.

"Forgive me, My Dear, but you won't be going anywhere, not without these......" He chortled, slipping her long white silk gloves from inside his coat pocket, and she shivered, as she eyed them nervously.

She shook her curls, shaking loose her suspicions with them, and gracefully extended her long, pale arm out to him, forcing a smile. Don't ask if he intends to laud you as authoress tonight, don't draw attention to the pen, or else your grave is like to be where you stand.......

"My Charles, I would be so delighted to exchange those ghastly cuffs, for these far lovelier accessories. Would you, Sir, be so kind?"

Charlie smiled to himself, and then at her, grazing his fingertips down the soft part of her arm, noticing the bloom in her cheek, and the eye circles faded, leaving faintly a trace. Someone's rather excited to be going out, adorning her husband's arm. You, yourself, are the far lovelier accessory...... he thought with a sneaky grin, sliding one glove on and then the next, before kissing her covered fingertips.

"Together now," he whispered gently, moving swiftly to the driver's side, as her gloved hand hovered over the door handle. He tested the mirroring, raising his own gloved hand with flourish, and she gasped as hers followed suit, the puppeteer and his brunette marionette. They touched the doors on each side, in the same breath, at the same time, and both sprung open, much to Charlie's open mouthed relief. Had she attempted to so much as touch the car without him there, his own leather gloves, the second key, as it were, not unlike a deposit box, the results would have been much less stellar. I do not care to be a widower again, in fact..... I rather like being the doting husband. I know how to do it now....... keep a woman from leaving me.

She grinned at him graciously from across the shiny black hood of the Wraith, and moved to lower herself into the car, when he flew like a flash to her, taking her in his arms. "Charles! Whatever are you doing!?" She giggled, out of breath, as he held fast to her, his obsidian eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"I almost forgot......." He whispered softly, tipping her head gently back, resting his palm against her cheek, and he lowered his lips to hers, in a open-mouthed kiss, waiting for it.

Ally parted her lips too, as Charlie's eclipsed hers, letting his mouth intrude, excitedly aching for the warm taste, the flooding tenderness, and the heat to rise between them, but instead, she felt herself choke hard, struck to the center of her soul by a peculiar cold, and if darkness itself had a taste, it lingered in her mouth even now, bitter and full of smoke. She coughed and coughed, as he held her, stroking the back of her head to soothe her. "I know, I know....... that's it, poor thing, swallow, and you'll be just fine."

"Ch-Charles," She coughed, again and again, barely able to speak, and then swallowed her fear, feeling the cold sensation intensify, and then dissolve all at once. "What-What was that? What did you just do?"

"The Night Road, as it is called, requires a certain...... quality to access," He mused, and he knew she'd never forgive him if she knew what he'd done. No matter....... The effect would wear off in time, and she'd be no worse for it. "A quality, I possess, that you did not, that is, until I shared it between us."

"Wh-? What is this quality?" She breathed, and shivered, touching her throat, as he kissed her cheek.

"Believe me, My Dear....... I am doing you a kindness in keeping that secret."

She nodded, averting her eyes, gulping the frosty air. "Say no more, Charles, please......."

Smart Girl. He smirked, tucking his arm under hers, wrapping it around her back, and gingerly slid her into the car, shutting the door, before climbing in on his side, smoothly turning the key. The engine roared to life, making him grin wickedly, sitting tall in the driver's seat. He missed this....... being here, with her. Remembering how she'd delighted in the Wraith, calling it his ebony sleigh, slumbering peacefully in the back seat, wearing her tiara of sparkling snowflakes. The last time they rode together in his Wraith, things had been much less ideal. He wanted that back, that sublime magic. Her looking at him like he was a miracle, named Manx.......

The silence lingered between them, as they rolled slowly through the twin candy cane gates, the coloured lights reflecting off the window.

"Static," She mumbled, and he looked at her curiously, both hands on the wheel.

"What static, My Love, is something wrong?"

"Oh Charlie, I am afraid! What if it happens again? I was swallowed by The White once, the static, what if I cannot get back in?" Ally looked at him fearfully, even as he fought to hide his own cloying guilt. Tying her soul to his inscape, making her a living part of Christmasland, so that she could never leave it again, had inspired a few....... unfortunate side effects. True, last time he'd had to fight his way through the static, yank her with tremendous effort through an unyielding, snow-blinding, white noise forcefield, but he had prevailed, and if necessary, he would do so again. He had hoped however, that his newest failsafe would kick in, and they'd be spared that whole awful business.

"My Darling Girl, never you fret. Inscapes are tricky avenues of the mind, and can be prone to their own quirks and glitches. I am sorry if my own Lost Paradise was less than welcoming upon your last return......."

"It's not your fault, Charles," She whispered gently, and he smiled to himself, as she drew closer, nestling her curly head atop his shoulder, as he drove, tucking her legs underneath her. That's it, My Dove, come closer....... his mind ached, not wanting to think about how wrong it was, a perversion of the creative process, stealing away one's own reality. It's for your own good, Allyssa Jolene. I'm not just keeping you in, I'm keeping her out.......

"I am sorry....... Charles, for stealing your car, commandeering, and crashing your beloved Wraith," She whispered sadly into his shoulder, hiding her face in his woolen, royal blue chauffer's coat. He smiled fondly, brushing his cheek against her soft hair as he pulled out onto the St. Nick Parkway, not a snowflake in the evening sky, which was filled with even more diamond stars than usual.

He could feel the Wraith hum around them, listening in to her heartfelt apology. See...... I told you she didn't mean it, he insisted telepathically, and his smile widened, impressed, as the snowflakes fell in a dazzling array inside the car. Ally perked up immediately, looking up with wonder at the snowfall, reaching her hand to touch the sparkling flakes.

"There now, see for yourself........ No need to apologize, My Sweet, The Wraith, while it never forgets, does forgive...... and it's always had a soft spot for you."

Ally beamed, with a slight blush, snuggling Charles' shoulder. "And I, for it....... What a beautiful car, and its debonair driver, come to whisk me away to a place made of dreams." The glove compartment popped open, making Ally jump, and her heart melted as she picked up the gingerbread girl cookie, with green eyes, wearing a blue icing dress.

"Awwww, now isn't that sweet?" Charles simpered, his heart feeling light, as she held the cookie, adoringly, looking all around her, mystified. "Thank you! Thank you very much, it's so pretty, and looks delicious!"

"As do you," Charles whispered softly, rubbing her shoulder, as she took a bite, and then sighed happy. I know, I know...... She's a hard one not to love, isn't she? Believe me, I’ve tried. Now, aren't you glad you didn't kill her, you finicky automobile?

**********

They drove for a while, the night descending darker and darker, Ally fast asleep on his shoulder, her cookie eagerly eaten, as The Wraith's wheels found its way onto The Night Road. The snow inside the cab stopped, the air frigid, and biting, and she moved closer to Charlie, to keep warm. The purple neon ushered them into its eerie glow, catching in his wife's hair, glinting on the windshield, illuminating his dark irises, until they too glowed a fantastic purple. The old buildings came into view, along with the famed bar, and the neon formed the curved writing of the sign, glowing freeform in the night sky. Parnassus.

Ally stirred in the purple glow, as he pulled smoothly into the gravel parking lot, turning off the ignition. "What is this place...... ?" She marveled, sitting up slowly, and she could feel it so strong, both a draw to the intrigue of the purple iridescence, and the power of a darker creative force, warding her away.

"Welcome to Parnassus."

Charlie moved to open her door, but the Wraith was all too quick to accommodate her, springing open of its own accord, letting her out into the transcendent light. No one likes a show off, he remarked in his mind, frowning slightly, with a raise of his intense brow. He exited too, and the Wraith went dark, leaving only the glow of the sign, and she stopped in front of it, looking curiously at the purple neon diamond glowing in the glass window of the door, drawn to it, transfixed, by something she didn't understand.

Charlie reached his arm around her possessively, taking a deep breath, as he pulled open the door, and followed her inside. The bar room was mostly empty, and very dark, save for a few huddled patrons and some low hanging lights, not to mention the bar itself and its taps, awash in green neon. The blacklights and neon glow flickered with each step the Manxs’ took, and the rainbow jukebox, that had been spilling a slow rock ballad into the room, burst with the proud symphony of Once Upon a December.

Ally gasped, her fingers flying to her lips, looking curiously at the odd collection of Dark Creatives that had turned in their stools to see the new arrivals. A murderous looking clown with red paint dripping in trails from his eyes on his white face, clutching a red balloon looking back with a withering glare. A man with a scaly face, and arms, rolling a pair of red dice over and over always getting the same result. A tall, spindly black woman with wild white hair, and blank white eyes, drinking with another young woman with heavy eye make-up, leather clad and covered head to boot in tattoos. There was also a shadowy figure sprawled out in the corner booth, a sharp looking man in a devil red suit, with every strand of his jet black hair in place, and Ally shook her head, stunned as his shadow on the opposite wall revealed pointed horns.

Ally felt the eyes on her, lurking from every dark corner of the room, as she fluttered past, woefully out of place, like a butterfly that had wandered into a bat cave. She held fast to Charlie's arm, clutching it tight, as they made their way through the funny little pub, and she cast her eyes down, trying not to stare at the ominous collection.

"Damn it, Chuck, if I have to listen to this festive racket every time you come breezing through that door, I'm going to start charging you a cover!"

Ally stopped short, and so did the wild-eyed mechanic in his brown, grease-covered smock, staring back at her incredulous behind his magnified glasses.

"Hot damn."

"Come now, Abraham, we both know, you'd give the devil himself a floor show, audience be damned." Charlie taunted, with his slow poured drawl, his eyes dark and dancing, as he shot a glance to the horned figure in the corner booth.

"Don't give him any ideas," Abe shot back, with his accusing finger, his gaze drifting back to the beautiful young thing that had no business in a place like this.

"So the rumours are true," He smiled crooked, and Charlie shifted his feet uncomfortably, as Abe extended his arm, not so subtly searching the loose folds of Ally's dress with his roving eyes, despite its flowing fit.

"Mrs. Manx, I presume?" He whistled low, looking her over. "Wow, Honey, Charlie told me you were beautiful, but I'd be lying if I said I believed him this much. The bastard's nothing without his grandstanding."

"Allyssa Manx needs no embellishment, she is everything I promised, and more," Charlie cut in, shooting Abe a warning glance as the vulgarian took her snow white hand. "Darling, I'd like you to meet Honest Abe, the proprietor of this fine establishment, and sometimes my friend."

"A pleasure to meet you, Abraham," Ally smiled brightly, shrugging off the ill at ease way this peculiar, leering man made her feel. "A friend of Charlie's is surely a friend of mine, and I thank you for the compliment, though I am undeserving of it. Charlie's the pretty one in this marriage,"

She giggled shyly, making him laugh too, and Charlie rubbed his thin lips together, unnerved, as Abe kissed the back of her hand a little too long. She drew her foot behind her ankle in a quick curtsy as a thank you, holding her fluttering hem.

"Call me, Abe, Doll," He insisted, looking over the top of his bug-eyed frames, slowly letting go of her hand. "Pleasure's all mine, and you and your good for nothing husband are welcome here anytime."

Charlie cleared his throat, and stepped between them, wrapping his arm possessively around Ally's waist, arching his brow at Abe, with another imposing stare.

"Sugar Plum, why don't you go get us a table, and I'll be with you presently....... Abe and I have much to discuss."

"Of course, Charlie, I shall await your return, My Love," She smiled sweetly at him, swallowing her nerves, at being left alone in such....... colourful company. Charlie watched vigilant as she walked to a table and sat herself down, crossing her arms over her chest, rubbing her forearms, as she looked around, surveying the bar, and he reminded himself not to leave her unattended for too long.

He strolled to the bar, turning his back on Abe, tapping two of his sharp talons on the glowing green glass.

"Two Peppermint Twists, one virgin, hold the schnapps, and a whiskey for Abe, all on my tab."

The pale, looming insect of a bartender, narrowed his slits of eyes derisively at Charlie, clearly offended.

"I KNOW what a virgin is, you condescending-"

"Really?" Charles mused, feigning shock, with a snicker, as the bartender poured the drinks, resentfully. "You surprise me, Hob, I'd have thought you'd be utterly unfamiliar with the concept, due to the particular company you keep."

Hob slammed the drinks on the bar without another word, as Charlie smiled to himself, impressed with his own sharp wit.

"A virgin...... for your virgin, huh?"

Charlie shot Abe a glance over his shoulder, and slid the shot glass of whiskey over to him, with a half smirk, half snarl.

"She is, isn't she? Let me guess? Pure as the new-fallen snow, 'course that is your type. Guessing that means you didn't exactly make waves on the wedding night."

"I wouldn't say that......." Charlie smirked, stirring his Peppermint Twist with his candy cane. "Ironically these were the waves I made, that prevented those of the far more pleasurable nature. Though I sense even those beckon on the not too distant horizon."

"Cut the coy shit, Charlie, what the HELL is a beautiful, classy dame like that, doing with an old, crooked codger like you, and in a joint like this!? How the HELL did you even get her here, there's no way that- no..... wait....."

Abe shook his head, as he spun his glass around and around, his magnified eyes widening with the realization. "Damn. I knew it. I knew as soon as you sauntered in here, the smouldering draft wasn't coming off you quite as strong. You seemed...... lighter. Let me guess, Kiss of Death?"

Charlie nodded, impressed. "However did you guess? Yes, it does seem the most effective delivery method."

"Look at you...... parsing off a piece of your dark soul on her, just to have date night with your wife........ Or did you come here looking for a favour?"

"You know me too well, Abe," Charlie sighed, the two clinking their glasses together, before knocking back a drink."

"I heard you were stupid enough to get yourself hitched again, but part of me didn't want to believe it. Thanks for the invitation, Friend." Abe scoffed, taking another drink.

"Oh come, Abe, don't pout. It was a small, tasteful ceremony, an altogether intimate gathering. Just the bride, the groom, and an indentured priest. Not even the children attended."

"Course not, you think she'd ever say I do, with all those tiny biters around, chewing up the scenery? Usually when a man says to his prospective bride, I hope the little ones don't eat you up alive, he's just being comical. You crazy kids. I should buy the house a round to celebrate the occasion.

"Don't pretend to be happy for me, Abraham, I know you're not," Charlie snarled, taking another drink, motioning for Hob to bring Abe another shot of whiskey. "At least I know you can pretend to like her, although I don't know how anyone could resist it. She's most persistent in that pursuit.

"Are you kidding?" Abe chuckled, arching both of his coarse, twisted brows "Hell yeah, I like her. Third time's the charm for Charlie Manx!!! Seriously, how'd you pick up a hot piece like that, WHAT Hallmark Card did you snatch that one out of, huh? Mrs. Christmas even curtsied to me, and all Ice Queen Jolene ever did, was say hello with her right hook.

Charlie chuckled merrily, his eyes dancing, fond with the memory. "I remember....... She hated you. To be fair, Abe, you did rather wantonly place your hand on her posterior, so you see the assault wasn't entirely unprovoked."

Abe shrugged his shoulders, starting in on his second drink. "What can I say? Jo had a nice one...... But your new squeeze, damn, now that's a woman. Lucky Son of a Bitch, she's real easy on the eyes, sugar sweet, well-mannered, and my GOD that upstairs-"

Charlie's black eyes snapped furiously, cutting to Abe, angling his chin down, brow terse, as he raised his hand sharply to silence him. "Do spare me your lewd depictions, and perverse metaphors, Abe. Not with her, she's....... delicate. She requires a softer address, I must insist. And I'll have you know, I am well aware of what is........ upstairs."

Abe nodded with a suggestive grin. "You're a man, Charlie, yeah sure, maybe a fancy dandy of one, but your blood runs just as hot as mine."

Charlie cracked a smile in spite of himself, arching both brows. Touché Abe. "A touch hotter, I should think....... Especially when it comes to her. You would do well to...... govern your gaze, however. Touch her again, and you’ll WISH I’d left you to the Walking Backwards Man."

"Easy, Charlie, you don't have to go all slaying song on my ass, I meant no disrespect to your lady, just admiring what you got. And my, you sure got yourself something special........."

Abe leaned in secretively, his eyes steady, and unusually serious, making Charlie take pause and lean in as well.

"She's stronger than you, creatively speaking, you know that, right?

Charlie stared back hard, his smirk furtive and haughty, tilting his silky head sardonic. "You don't say?"

"I mean, the potential is there, Charlie Boy, yeah, sure she's still green, it's a raw energy, but I felt it all the same, the moment she walked in. This girl...... She may be damn near perfect for you, but she's trouble."

"My, my, whatever am I to do?" Charlie clicked his tongue, making a mockery of his distress. "If only there were a way to harness that delicious creative energy for myself, make sure it can never be used against me, reign her in, before the little thing realizes how just powerful she really is......."

Abe frowned, bewildered, and Charlie decided a demonstration was in order, tugging his leather gloves tighter on each wrist, and he eyed his young bride, brushing his fingers across his own cheek, and Abe watched, spellbound, stunned, as she did the same, her fingers on strings, without taking notice.

"You Clever Bastard..........." He breathed, and Charlie's smirk grew even more menacing, reaching into his coat, running his fingers along the seam of his waistcoat pocket, as hers mirrored his with the ruffles just below her neckline. "You have no idea...... just how CREATIVE I can be......" Charlie whispered, moving to withdraw her magic wand, before stopping cold....... deciding against such a covetous display. The power radiating off of that mighty pen would make it irresistible to every, how did she call them, ne'er do well, here. "I've been keeping this one close to the vest for decades, Abe," He whispered cleverly, running his gloved fingers though his shiny, raven coif, and watched satisfied as hers did too, trailing through her own curls, and this time she did notice, and flinched, startled.

He dropped the hold, and finished the rest of his Peppermint Twist, Abe turning back to look at him in quiet reverence. "It’s her, isn’t it........? She’s the long game you've been jawing on about all this time........"

Charlie nodded, his eyes like stoked embers. "I told you.......... I'm going to be the most Powerful Strong Creative of them all."

Abe looked back at him, his eyes somehow even bigger, struck speechless. "Jesus, Chuck...... That was what, twenty years ago......?"

"Twenty-three," Charles finished softly, gesturing to her with a gentle nod of his shiny head. "I felt her power come into the world when she was born, after finding out a hundred years previous, that she was going to be Mrs. Manx, The Second."

"Damn....... You caught this one right from the cradle, didn’t you?" Abe shook his head again in a daze, sneaking another look at her, as she lay her head demurely on the table. Twenty-three years Charlie had been chasing this skirt, and there she was........ Now THAT'S an endgame.

"Precisely......." Charles simpered back, with a clever purse of his lips. "How else do you suppose to keep them loyal?"

"Amen to that, Brother, Amen to that......" Abe straightened his glasses, with another conspiring smile. "Poor thing, never stood a chance against you and your holly jollies. I'll bet she thinks you're in love with her!"

Charlie's eyes lost their mischievous shine, and he smiled a little taken aback, pressing his lips together

"Damn it, Chuck, don't tell me......." Abe groaned, reading the worst emblazoned in Charlie's dark, romantic eyes. "No, no, oh you poor lovesick Son of a WHORE!!! You've got yourself a sweet scheme going here, don't wreck it to hell by putting your skin in the game, and falling for her!!!"

"An unforeseen complication, Abe, winning her affection, somehow garnered my own, but the scheme is just as sweet, as imagined, even sweeter, you might say........ I was so loathe to take a wife after Jolene's scathing rejection, and my multiple attempts on her life, but being married again, even if it began as a ruse, has been pure bliss. I fully intended on ruining this young woman's life, and now I am more than happy to let her ruin mine."

"Real poetic, Lover Boy. And yet........ Here you are, your dream girl in tow, sneaking a snatch of your black soul on her, just to ask me for a favour. Do I sense trouble in your sordid little paradise?"

Charlie frowned, his dark brow knit, wrinkling his nose. "The trouble isn't with my wife, strangely enough, but the other woman, attempting to come between us........"

Abe's face lit up like a Christmas tree, clapping his hands together, bringing his elbows up onto the bar. "Oh GOOD, I was wondering when we were going to get to her. Miss Shorter Way herself, the other special lady in your life. Do you want me to take care of it?

Charlie bit his lip in distaste, his ire rising, stirring with the candy cane in his empty cup, snapping it in half. "Yes....... I want her GONE. Vic McQueen has already turned my bride against me once, and I'd rather not see that happen again. It’s time Abe, the bill has come due, and I am here....... to collect.”

"Hold on...... Peaches and Cream over there, made a move AGAINST you, that little sweetheart who keeps looking over here like a lost puppy? And you DIDN’T kill her!? Damn, Charlie, now that's what I call progress. You never would have given Jo a second chance."

"Jo never would have asked," Charlie finished smoothly, gazing at the lovely creature that had fallen asleep, head down on the table. "Every marriage has its........ problems, I suppose. The little quirks that keep things interesting. My little minx befriended my whore nemesis, and then they tricked me, in league together, STOLE my car to escape, but in the end....... She chose me. I cannot kill her, let all that loveliness and enviable energy go to waste. I've been at this too long, invested so much of myself, watching....... Waiting. And yet........ I can't have her be tempted again, she's too trusting, too good, Vic will prey upon her pesky empathy, and that's a problem for me. I want you to get rid of her, Abe, use her own tricks against her, by pretending to help her."

"How many of these have you had tonight, Chuck? I'm cutting you off. Lay off the schnapps, and the CRAZY talk, go on! Be with your girl, cop a feel for me, and forget everything you just said."

"Abe........ I am deathly serious about this," Charles snarled, leaning in, palms down on the bar, his chest shuddering." I am not drunk, nor mad, this is how I'm going to end that conniving bitch, Vic McQueen. You told me once, I had to kill her, and you're going to help me do it, by rallying your riff raff, and making a play to side with her, against me."

Abe stood up abruptly, shoving his empty shot glasses away. "That's DAFT, Manx, I won't do it, they won't do it...... It's unthinkable, it's-"

"CREATIVE," Charlie hissed back, the corner of his lip curling up maliciously. "You see...... I need to keep my poor, confused wife away from the BAD influence of one, Victoria McQueen. I need a different battlefield, one where my inscape is not at risk. You lure her here....... Convince her of your shared insatiable hatred for me, offer to join her in authoring my demise, and then, just when she thinks she's not alone, that she has an army, we strike, we FINISH her. Ally need never know........"

"Damn it, Manx, that's some kooky kind of suicide play, not to mention risky......." Abe's shifty eyes darted all around him, motioning for Charlie to lean in closer. "I'm with you, you know I am, you fa la la la fop, but there are folks here..... your fellow dark creatives that would jump for a shot at killing Christmas, you get me? You get it going around that somebody's making a big move against Charlie Effing Manx, and I can't promise you some won't be throwing in their hat for real."

Charlie grinned, showing off all of his teeth, hardly phased, his voice a hushed rasp. "Then it's a good thing....... I have my secret weapon, and her very special flaming knife...... Once my hidden enemies reveal themselves, caught up in the tangled web of this deception, after I destroy Vic, I will raise her against them. My initial folly was in attacking Victoria head on, relying solely on blunt force, but no, I understand it now........ This crafty femme fatale requires a stealth approach. She'll never see me coming........ until I am driving my sword through her heart.

"I'll do it, Chuck, I'll get the word out, but how are you going to get the rebel spitfire here anyway?"

Charlie slowly stood up from the barstool, snapping up Ally's untouched drink with a shrug, and an especially smug smile. "She's a drunk, Abe...... She'll find her way here, we all did. And if not...... you'll just have to reach out with a more than generous invitation."

Charlie sauntered over to his sleeping beauty, running his nails across the back of her dress, feeling the tight lacing of her corset, and she drowsily raised her curly head, her long eyelashes, fluttering.

"I must apologize vehemently, My Sweetness, that bit of urgent business, and catching up with good old Honest Abe, took much longer than anticipated. He arched both eyebrows very sweetly, his dark eyes coaxing. Do you have it in your heart to forgive your neglectful husband? I come with a peace offering."

Ally grinned adoringly, hugging his neck, as he sank down into the chair beside her. "Always........ I'm so happy you had a nice chat with your friend!!! You needn't apologize, Darling, I've been perfectly fine with my uh people watching........ That horned fellow did ask me the oddest question, however, before he left. Goodness, what IS that? It smells delicious!"

"This, My Dear, is called a Peppermint Twist, and I believe you'll find its effects most........ invigorating."

Ally's gloved fingers curled gratefully around the ceramic mug, bringing it to her lips, the swirling peppermint and white chocolate flowing warm, and comforting over her tongue.

"Mmmm oh my, Charles, that has to be the most scrumptious drink I've ever had! Yes, its effect is most......." Ally breathed deep, her eyes glowing eerily green, and the lights in Parnassus flickered erratic, as she felt it, the energy pulsing through her veins, her mind razor sharp, her hands shaking. "Powerful........."

Charles watched satisfied, breathing it in with pleasurable leisure, stoking the wildfire inside her that was just aching to be released, and just as he'd planned, every dark creative eye in the place was now on her. The bats were afraid of the butterfly.

"Take another drink," He insisted firmly, his gaze intense as he invoked his hold, bringing an invisible cup to his lips, as she brought the real one to hers, drinking deeply.

She gasped as the coloured neon died all at once, plunging the bar into complete darkness, the juke box music falling dead silent, and Charlie propped up his boots up on the table, leaning back in his chair relaxed, as the bats swarmed in a panic all around them, swooping out the door.

That's it, my little butterfly, make them flee.

"Oh my God, I don't understand, did I-!?" Ally froze, fearfully setting down her cup, and the ceramic shuddered on the table. "Impossible........ Abe, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I-I don't know what’s just happened!!!"

Abe, who had sidled up next to their table, scratching the back of his head, now yanked off his glasses in bewildered awe.

"You're a knock-out, Doll........" Abe mouthed, utterly baffled, him and Charlie exchanging a knowing look. "You and your man here, you're gonna own The Night Road. Queen of Christmasland, and Princess of Parnassus.

#charlie manx x oc #charlie manx #honest abe #vic mcqueen #parnassus #the wraith #paranormal romance #paradise for the lost

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jackiesarch · 4 years

Text

all on my mind

a belated (because my ability to get my shit together is limited) present in honor of @tommymillers’ sweet oc max tyler’s birthday! thank you for blessing us all with max’s story - tlou just doesn’t feel the same without her in it!

a little bit of no outbreak max/tommy shenanigans for your reading pleasure.

“Close your eyes.”

The engine dies as Tommy pulls the key from the ignition. The car falls silent, and for a second, Max almost thinks she may have misheard him.

“What?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

The smile Tommy fixes her with is the strangest mix of sheepish and sly, and Max narrows her eyes at him from the passenger seat. She knows that expression – it’s one that almost always means he’s up to no good.

“It’s a, uh…it’s a surprise.”

Her narrowed eyes become pinpricks and her brow, thoroughly furrowed, joins in. Max twists in her seat to jab a finger in his direction.

“You said no more surprises!”

The spark of mischievousness that twisted his smile just seconds before vanishes in an instant. Now, he just looks flustered. Tommy holds his hands up in mock surrender, suddenly a man put that’s been on the spot, desperate to talk her down.

“I know,” he says, holding up his index finger at her when she goes to open her mouth, “I know. I—this is the last one. It’ll be worth it, I think.”

It’s all been worth it, she wants to tell him – and it has been. The fancy, black tie dinner at the restaurant she’s always dreamed of but never dined at? The pretty new earrings she wears sparkling and shining in the fading light of day? Dressing up in soft, pretty fabric in even softer colors? Max knows just how much effort he’s put into making her birthday special – and the more she thinks about it, the more her chest buzzes with a familiar fondness.

She doesn’t say all of that, though, because she knows it would only fluster him more. Instead, Max relaxes her face, gives him a little smile, and shuts her eyes.

“Fine. Eyes closed.”

“…’m gonna blindfold you.”

Max can’t help it – she cracks one eye open, huffing out a laugh when she sees him loosening his tie. Before she knows it, he has the black silk wrapped around her face, hands working at the back of her head as he ties a little knot.

“You don’t gotta blindfold me,” she reasons, though she doesn’t make any attempt to pull it off.

Tommy’s fingers fall from behind her, and Max shivers at the touch of his fingertips on the side of her face, stroking up and down her cheek almost absently.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, suit making a slipping noise against the car’s leather seats as he shifts, “I reckon you’re pretty sneaky. Don’t want you to cheat.”

Warm air tickles her cheek, and it doesn’t take much for her to figure out that Tommy’s leaned in close, lips somewhere just shy of hers. He lingers for one second, two seconds, a third, until finally he kisses her lips more gently than Max thinks he ever has.

“Now stay put,” he murmurs, the words pressed against her mouth. “I’ll come ‘round and get you.”

Just like that, the warmth of his face near hers disappears. The car door opens and closes, and Max can hear the shuffling sounds of Tommy’s expensive shoes against the asphalt of the apartment parking lot. When she hears the sound of her own door opening, Tommy reaches in and grabs her hands, slowly helping her out of the car and toward the lobby doors.

It’s a slow journey – she’s wearing heels that are just a little to tall for her to feel confident in, led by a man whose attention to detail has never been his greatest skill, and she’s not ready to end her birthday with a trip to the hospital and a couple stitches. Still, they make it to the elevator and up to the apartment relatively unscathed, and Tommy leads her from their front door to their destination with his hands on her hips and his voice in her ear.

“Alright,” he says, tugging her to a stop in a place she thinks might be their bathroom. “See? We made it. Easy-peasy.”

His fingers come to the back of her head, brushing against her hair as he fumbles with the knot in the tie. It takes a few seconds, but he gets it – her makeshift blindfold goes slack, the only thing keeping it in place Tommy’s hands on either side of her head.

Is he shaking? She can’t be sure.

Max can feel him behind her, body barely grazing hers and hands keeping the black silk up around her eyes. When he speaks, his words come at the shell of her ear, soft and dizzyingly raspy.

“You ready?”

“Been ready,” she gripes, reaching up to grasp at his wrists. “Will you hurry up and let me see, please?”

Goosebumps scatter down her arms when Tommy leans in and kisses her neck. He does it just the once, lips lingering on her skin for a few seconds before he brings the blindfold away from her face.

It takes her a few seconds to realize that she is, in fact, in the bathroom. With the lights off, everything looks different: strange shadows, different reflections, flickering shapes on the wall. Her brain takes a moment to adjust to it as she examines the room, looking for Tommy’s surprise in the darkness.

Except the lights aren’t actually off, she realizes. When she turns her head toward the tub, she can see the candles plain as day, spread evenly across the porcelain edge on either side. They illuminate the bathroom with a dim, warm light, enough that Max can see the rose petals scattered across the tile floor and over the surface of water that billows inviting steam. On the floor, next to the tub, there a champagne flute, full of golden liquid, and a tiny bottle beside it to match.

It's makeshift spa, she realizes. A do-it-yourself romantic bath.

Her heart flutters inside her chest as she turns to look at him, an incredulous look on her face.

“Did—did you do this all by yourself?”

There’s an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression on Tommy’s face as he looks between her, the tub, and the bathroom floor. He’s holding his hands awkwardly in front of him – trying not to wring them anxiously, Max can tell – and he nods slowly.

“Yeah—well, Joel helped a little. Ran the water and lit the candles just before we got here. But I, uh—yeah. Rest was all me.”

Her chest feels like it might burst with the sudden swell of emotion blooming in the center. Max feels it under her ribcage: a bone-deep, smoldering love that she doesn’t think she’s ever felt before.

“I—Tommy, this—”

“You like it?”

Does she like it? She almost laughs at the question, at the implication that she could be anything other than floored by a gift like this. It’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me, she wants to say. I don’t remember the last time someone gave me their love instead of a gift card. Instead, she settles for the easiest answer.

“It’s beautiful. I love it.”

Max undresses in phases. She ditches her shoes first, kicking the heels into a corner and wiggling her toes once they’re free, then reaches for the earrings decorating her lobes. The gold-plated studs that Tommy had shyly presented to her at dinner are cold between her fingers as she sets them down carefully on the bathroom counter and admires them. They’re flat little golden circles, a tiny letter ‘M’ stamped in the center of each and adorned with delicate white stones. They’re beautiful, she thinks. No one’s ever given her a gift quite like it.

When she blinks back to the present, she can see Tommy watching her carefully in the bathroom mirror. Max peers over her shoulder at him, fixing him with a smile she hopes is coy. She jerks her head towards the zipper of her dress.

“Gimme a hand?”

He steps close to her, running warm hands from her shoulders down her back until his fingers meet her zipper. This close, Max is sure, can feel the tremors as he tugs the zipper down – he’s shaking. It’s endearing, she thinks – somehow, after all this time together, he’s still like a boy on his very first date, nervous and shy and dreading rejection.

The dress goes slack, and Max lets it pool at her feet on the tile floor. It’s a soft yellow, a reminder of sunshine and summertime, and Max knows that she’ll always associate it with this time – with this memory – from now on.

She steps over the edge of the tub and into the water, careful not to disturb any of the candles from their perches. Rose petals cling to her skin as she crouches down and sinks into the bath, settling with her back up against the cool porcelain and her legs stretched out.

“Oh, this is—” Max cuts herself off with a sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as the water cascades over her belly and makes her shiver. “This is nice.”

The bath is the perfect temperature, Max thinks; not hot enough to scald, but warm enough that she doesn’t think she’ll ever want to leave. The smell of the rose petals is faint, but it’s there – like walking into a flower shop and taking a deep breath in.

She lets herself soak for about a minute before she cracks one eye open and looks at Tommy.

“What’re you waitin’ for?”

He looks at her like she’s just asked him to name the capital of South Dakota.

“What d’you mean?”

The warm curl of affection that’s been clutching at her heart spreads a little lower, down her chest and towards her belly, and Max can’t help but fix him with a lopsided smile.

“Get in,” she says, reaching for the champagne flute sitting on the edge to her left. “There’s lots of room.”

“You want me to get in there?”

Max takes a sip and tilts her head back, reveling in the touch of warmth the alcohol leaves behind in her throat as she swallows. She doesn’t know what it is, but as she grins up at the ceiling, she thinks there’s something about the genuine look of confusion he wears at her suggestion that makes him more endearing than usual.

“Wouldn’t be a very romantic bath if you left me here all alone, baby.”

A beat passes, then another, and Max is about to tell him he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to when Tommy shrugs.

“Alright.”

He goes for the buttons of his dress shirt as Max drains the last of her champagne and sets the glass on the floor just outside the tub, a little grin plastered across her face. He never has been hard to convince where nudity is involved.

The heat of the water has a mind of its own, though, and as much as she’d love to watch him strip, Max finds she can’t help but shut her eyes again. Tension melts from her body like candle wax, leaving her feeling loose-limbed and pliant and altogether calm.

It’s the squeak of skin on porcelain and the sloshing of water that brings her back, and she opens her eyes to see Tommy leaning back against the opposite end of the tub as petals swirl around him in little circles. His skin seems to glow in the candlelight.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Max says, smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Be nicer if you were over here.”

It’s an offer she can’t refuse. She shifts, water and petals sloshing around her as she crawls towards him. The candles flicker wildly around her; Max is pretty sure she snuffs one out with the water she’s getting everywhere, but she can’t be bothered as she settles against Tommy’s body and makes herself comfortable.

He’s warm where they touch. He’s always been warm, an all-encompassing heat, making her feel safe and sound and home. Max curls into him and presses her cheek against his chest, exhaling slowly when he wraps and arm around her and tugs her close.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Tommy murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I do alright?”

“Mm,” Max hums, jutting out her bottom lip thoughtfully. “’S okay. Don’t know about the company, though.”

A scowl twists his pretty mouth, and she can’t help the grin that she tries to hide against his chest.

“Very fuckin’ funny. You know, this is the best company your ass is ever gonna get.”

She laughs – it’s an open sound, a free one, and Max feels the shaking of his chest and the warmth of his breath on her skin as he mirrors her.

He’s wined and dined her, filled her belly with expensive food and rich desserts and surprised her with beautiful jewelry that she knows he must’ve had to save up for. The lavishness of the last several hours, of dressing up with someone she loves and being treated liked a princess? It’s nice, Max thinks, but this? The candlelit bathroom, the rose petals in the water, the comfort of his arms wrapped around her and his skin flush with hers? Fancy cheesecake and golden baubles have little to do with the way she feels right now.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers, sliding a hand up Tommy’s chest and leaving a trail of water behind her. “I love it.”

The champagne is settling in now, melting into her veins and leaving behind a comfortable buzz. Every part of her is warm, heavy, calm – she feels like she could lay here for a thousand years, just like this, close enough to feel the steady thump of Tommy’s heart under her cheek.

“Thank you for this,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against his skin. “I love you.”

He tucks her head under his chin and squeezes her tight, running his thumb across the wet line of her shoulder.

“Love you too.”

There have been twenty-four other birthdays before this, and not one of them of them has ever come close to touching how happy this one has made her. She feels special. She feels wanted.

She feels loved.

#this got SO LONG I'M SORRY MACY #tommy miller #maxine tyler #tommy x oc #the last of us fic #the last of us oc #tlou fic #tlou oc #no outbreak au #my writing

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sserpente · 5 years

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A/N: Requests from two anons and @eislyn-vis. I changed the scenario a bit but now there’s a different kind of Red Riding Hood concept.

Words: 1954 Warnings: angst, fluff, attempted rape, mentions of smut

“Come on, brother, it’ll be fun. How will you ever redeem yourself if you don’t spend time with us and prove to them you’re more than just the God of Mischief?” Thor bellowed, patting Loki’s shoulder so hard he stumbled forward. The Trickster rolled his eyes.

“I have no need to be redeemed, Thor. You are fully well aware it were not solely my actions that brought chaos to New York.”

Thor’s smile faltered a little. “I know. Maybe tonight, you can convince the others of that too.”

“I will not costume myself and drink myself into stupor, brother.” Thor had painted his face entirely white and added dark blue circles under his eyes. Fake blood was dripping down the corners of his mouth and whenever he spoke, Loki caught a glimpse of those way too big plastic fangs. He looked absurd.

“You don’t have to. Just come along, have a drink with me and celebrate Halloween with us.”

He stared at him, considering his invitation briefly. He could always cause some mischief among the crowd. Surely, a real living snake in the punch would elicit some kind of reaction.

“Fine,” he finally replied. “One drink.”

Thor’s grin was triumphant when he grabbed his brother by the neck and dragged him with him into the living room. Loki was already regretting he had said yes when he shoved a green drink in his hand and then joined Tony, Natasha and Steve. Dirty looks were shot in his direction as soon as they lay their judgemental eyes upon him.

He rolled his eyes once more, carefully sipping on his drink. It was not too bad, for a Midgardian brew. Annoyed, he let his eyes roam over the costumed crowd—he was not interested in a conversation with the Avengers anyway—right until he caught sight of a petite woman next to one of the doctors. Alas, you were petite to him, your red dress barely covering your delicious backside. You were wearing a red jacket that came with a hood, too, presumably made of leather. What were you supposed to illustrate? Red traffic lights Loki had discreetly ignored the first time Thor had sat him behind the wheel of a Midgardian vehicle?

“Who is that?” He found himself asking. Fascination was boiling in his veins, an interest he could not quite name as of yet.

Thor frowned. “Who?”

“That woman over there… the one wearing the red dress.” You had combined your outfit with black heels and equally black tights. Quite frankly… you looked ravishing. When was the last time he had felt immediate sexual interest in a woman?

“Oh, that… that is (Y/N), she’s a young scientist. Works with Banner. Why?”

Loki pursed his lips. “Never mind. What is she dressed up as?”

“Red Riding Hood.” Natasha said, folding her arms suspiciously. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes once more. He had no idea who or what Red Riding Hood was. All he knew was that he needed to hear your voice. He doubted you would be willing to speak to him though—after all, you worked with the Avengers. You knew what he had done.

Loki downed his drink quickly, choosing to spend the rest of the night watching you. For a moment, he even considered casting an illusion, transforming himself into someone else but then decided against it. If he were to get to know you… then he should have a chance for you to like him just the way he was, no tricks involved.

He almost snorted at the thought. Whoever would? According to Midgardian myths, he was the incarnation of evil. According to his life, he was an outsider, a villain, a monster.

Pressings his lips together to a thin line, he stood to pour himself another drink. Perhaps he should drink himself into stupor after all.

How come he had never seen you around before? Granted, Loki usually spent most of his time in his cell, pardon, room in the compound and he had not been here long enough to be acquainted with the entire team as of yet. Still… a young beauty such as you… he should have noticed you.

He was met with a hungover Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff in the kitchen. Cleaning maids—apparently, so Loki had been told by Thor, they were getting paid for their services—were taking care of the disgusting mess the party guests had left. Loki really did not understand all the fuss about Halloween.

Repulsed, he stepped over an empty glass bottle on the floor and poured himself a cup of coffee. Unlike the two mortals in the kitchen, he had remained entirely unaffected from last night’s alcoholic adventure.

At three am, when there was still no end of the party in sight, he retreated, stopping by Stark’s library before returning to his cell—bedroom. He quickly found what he was looking for and ended up falling asleep to the fairy tale of little Red Riding Hood wandering through a dark forest to bring her sick grandmother cake and wine.

“You left early last night, brother. You didn’t disappear with the lovely (Y/N), did you?” Thor entered the kitchen with a sneaky grin on his lips. Tony’s face fell, his eyes locking with Loki’s.

“Did you touch her?” Hmm… interesting. Of course they would not want him anywhere near an innocent young woman—but he sure loved getting on the billionaire’s nerves. If only he could say yes. He would have loved to have felt you underneath him last night.

“And if I did, then what?” He replied instead, scorn swinging in his voice.

“He’s bluffing.” Natasha stated unfazed. Tony ignored her. “(Y/N) left the compound to go for a run in the forest nearby ten minutes ago.”

“Stay away from her. If I even see you near her, I’ll see to it SHIELD locks you up again.”

“Because that worked out so well the first time you attempted to do so, yes?” Proudly, Loki lifted his chin, staring him down until he had to blink.

“(Y/N) is an honourable, decent woman. She’d never waste her breath on you.” The God of Mischief swallowed. There was a chance Stark was not lying. Still, he had all the information he needed.

“Worry not, Stark. In case you are concerned for her honour, however, I would strongly advise you stay away from the girl yourself.” He teleported himself out of the room before Tony could respond, finding himself on an idyllic forest path. Romanoff’s information had been vague but it was enough for Loki to locate you.

Casting an illusion on himself, his heart almost leaped out of his chest when you ran past him, dressed in a tight sports outfit complimenting each and every one of your curves. Ironically, it was red.

By the Norns, was this not pathetic? Making himself invisible and watching you sweat like a mad predator? What other choice did he have? Stark’s harsh words rang in his ears, making him wonder if they were true after all.

Oh, nonsense. If you were truly honourable, perhaps you would give him a chance despite his past. He would simply… where had you gone? You had been there only a second ago!

Loki flinched when you screamed. Alarmed, he rushed to your side, abandoning his invisibility charm. A strange man had sneaked up on you, holding a small knife to your throat from behind and dragging you off the safe path into the undergrowth.

He could only imagine what it was he wanted from you. He gnashed his teeth. How dare he even think about touching you against your will. Possessiveness crawled through his body, along with a strong urge to protect you. Loki had never even heard your voice and still… He was not cruel. Surely, he would have helped any woman from getting raped before his eyes, yet with you he felt that if he failed saving you, something inside him would break. His heart? No, his heart had long been broken. But there was a connection. A connection he could not quite describe. He wondered… would Frigga know? His mother… the woman who had raised him had always known advice for any predicament he had found himself in, up until he had found out what he really was.

Without any hesitation, he grabbed the stranger by the throat and hurled him against a tree, the knife falling to the ground and landing mutely in the green moss.

“What the…”

He looked up, realising who had attacked him and swallowing thickly.

“You have three seconds before I rip your head off.” He growled, making him stumble to his feet and run faster than you had ever seen a man run before. Relief washed over you.

“L-Loki?” Your eyes widened when you recognised him, hovering above you, his dark glare downright murderous. You frowned.

“And there I was thinking that I would be the big bad wolf in this scenario.” He replied with an amused grin, remembering the fairy tale he had read last night.

“What are you talking about?” Still frowning, you let him help you up, electricity rippling through you when your hands touched.

By the Norns, standing this close to you only made him realise now how tiny you were compared to him. He could just lift you up with both his hands, bring your delicious quim to his face and bury his tongue between your folds all the while you hung in his arms completely helpless, forced to accept the pleasure he was offering you…

“I am afraid you caught my attention at the party last night.” Now that was an understatement but at least, it was not a lie.

You raised an eyebrow. Oh… your costume, of course… “That does not explain why you followed me into the woods.” Ah. Yes.

“I shall be glad I did. Stark was very vehement about me staying away from you.”

“Tony tends to get a little overprotective from time to time.”

“I do not like being told what not to do.”

You blinked. You had never actually spoken to Loki before. You were aware of his presence in the compound, of course—yet the stories the Avengers had told you had made you hesitate. You had not exactly avoided him, still you had to admit you had not been overly keen on joining Bruce in the lab when he was present.

Loki had shattered your opinion of him like a piece of glass. If he truly was as evil as the heroes made him out to be, then why had he just saved you from a rapist? Your heart was still beating like a steam hammer, adrenaline cursing through your body. You didn’t even realise you were bleeding until Loki reached for your neck and gently pulled you towards him.

“He injured you. I should have killed him after all.” He muttered tenderly.

“I-I’m okay.” Loki looked up, your eyes locking. He had not imagined it then. There was a connection. But you were suspicious of him, he could tell. The hesitation radiated off of you like liquid heat. At least, he felt no hatred and disgust.

Making you flinch, he brushed his thumb against the bleeding wound the man’s knife had caused. One second passed before it disappeared, leaving behind unblemished skin Loki was itching to taste with his mouth.

“Thank you…” You murmured, unsure of how to react to his gentleness. What was it he had said? That you had caught his attention last night? “I, um… I’m heading back now, will you… will you join me?”

Loki nodded slowly, suppressing a triumphant grin. “With pleasure.” It was a start, at least.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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