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katsheadinclouds · 11 months

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chapter 7

Joel Miller x gn!/f! reader

series masterlist - chapter 6

summary: The annual end of summer celebration in Jackson brings people together, you and Joel included.

rating: mature

chapter warnings: slight angst, insecurities, mentions of eating and drinking alcohol, mainly fluff, autumn vibes, no use of y/n

word count: 8.8k

divider by cafekitsune

4 months later

“Do you want anything?” Ellie asks from her group of friends, Kit, Juno, Robbie, Jesse and Dina, as she stands up from their blanket on the ground. They all want more snacks so she goes to get them, while cradling her own mug in her hand.

It was funny walking to the town center with Joel carrying their mugs. Apparently last year too many glasses from the dining hall were broken so this year people had to bring their own glasses or mugs if they wanted to drink something, like the apple cider that had been made from the apples that had fallen from the trees that Ellie had fallen in love with in the past two hours.

The smell of apples is everywhere. As is hay and various other crops that are now cooked for the huge end of summer cookout. The whole town is here, celebrating the warm months coming to an end and giving room for the rain and colder days.

Ellie’s tan is still fresh on her skin, her freckles even darker than before. She makes her way slowly through the crowd, people saying hello to her and asking if she has had the roasted pumpkin or if she has tried the cauliflower salad. She tells them no but recommends the marinated carrots in return. She stands at the end of the long line waiting to be served their drinks and to get snacks.

A few of the horses are out for the smaller kids to pet and try sitting on them with their parents or guardians keeping a hold of their other leg to prevent them from falling off the animal. Ellie is going to go horseback riding again tomorrow, as her patrol training is slowly looming in the horizon and becoming reality. She won’t be able to start her training properly until next year when she finishes school, but it’s good for her to have some of the basic skills already when she’s going to need it eventually anyway.

There’s a child who seems nervous about the huge animal, but still holds his hand out for the horse to nuzzle against. He smiles and gets braver, when he notices how gentle the horse is and the softness of its warm skin against the child’s hand.

The sound in the town square is deafening from all the laughter and talking, a band playing music for people to enjoy and maybe even dance to already even though most of the people won’t hit the makeshift dancefloor until later when the sun has gone down, the atmospheric hanging lights have been turned on and people have downed more alcohol. A group of kids run chasing each other, laughing the whole time. They pass the picnic table where Joel, Tommy and Maria are sitting, almost five-month-old baby Matilda in Tommy’s arms. Ellie likes to call her Tilda because it makes the baby smile when Ellie is slowly bouncing her in her embrace and chanting “Til-da” over and over again.

She sees how Joel looks at her, that warm glint in his eyes and dimpled smile on his face. Matilda is holding his finger from his outstretched hand, looking at him with wonder in her huge brown eyes. Tommy is swaying her slowly as he talks about something with Maria, but Joel has completely checked out, his attention on the baby and the way she’s looking at everything around her.

Ellie never saw that look on his face before Matilda was born. There’s a smile that’s reserved only for Ellie and then there’s a smile that he only gives to Tilda. Like he’s years away, remembering something, yet still here, hardened, and soft at the same time. The baby has cracked something open in him, she can see it, but she can’t pinpoint what. She’d had to have known him before people got sick with cordyceps to really understand him and the look he’s giving the baby.

She turns away and swallows hard. Of course she knows he looks like that because Matilda reminds him of his daughter. His real daughter. Ellie will never know her or know what Joel was like with her, but the way he’s enraptured by Matilda, she can imagine the baby bringing up a lot of memories and his fatherly side.

She feels the jealousy gnawing in her mind even though she’s trying to push the crawling tentacles of envy away. No reason to be jealous, she tells herself. They’ve already established that Ellie is like an adopted daughter to him even though there are times when it’s painfully clear she’ll never be like a real daughter to him. Or at least that’s something she believes. He talks about Sarah sometimes and every time Ellie feels like she’s being compared to someone who she’ll never compare to. Not in Joel’s eyes at least, Ellie knows it.

She looks at Matilda again, the smile on her face and how Joel swings their hands in the air gently. Her thoughts sour in her mind. Tilda is going to grow up in this world and she’ll lose that pure innocence at some point. If there could just be a cure, a vaccine that would let her be a child as long as she likes and grow up without having to worry if she’s going to lose someone in her life like Ellie has.

“You’d never lie to me, right?”

“No.”

“More marinated carrots?” John asks behind the food tables. Ellie is shaken from her thoughts and she nods and smirks when he scoops up a plateful of the crispy, salty and sweet smelling, garlicky treats.

“Do you also want more…” Ellie is already handing her mug to John before he can finish the sentence.

“Wait,” he checks something under the table, lifting the table cloth, and shakes his head as he gives her an apologetic smile. “I have to get a new container out, just a moment,” he points his thumb behind his back, somewhere towards the closed off backroom.

Ellie turns back towards the party, taking a carrot and popping it into her mouth. She nods her head to the music the first band is playing, seeing some of the members from the second band sitting by a table enjoying their food and drinks. She heard them practice some of the songs they’re going to play tonight for the real celebration. She can’t wait to see what the party is going to be like later when all the kids have gone home and the adults are let loose. She taps her foot against the floor, humming silently to the song that drifts over the joyous cacophony of people having fun.

Until a familiar face stops her completely.

She hasn’t seen you since that one time in passing. It’s been just a bit over six months since you were picked up from her garage. She assumed you were doing better, at least you didn’t seem to be in such distress like all those months ago when she last saw you.

She also knows Joel hasn’t seen you or heard from you. Now that she thinks about it, it’s a miracle she hasn’t ran into you anywhere or even heard of you around town. You’ve been sheltering at Diana and Brenda’s but it seems like you’re ready to step back into the life of Jackson.

After what went down at her garage, she heard that Diana had ripped the town doctor, Joshua, a new one after you moved in with her and her wife. After that some of the people in Jackson had turned to Diana instead of Joshua. Ellie can’t blame them though. She has heard enough stories from her friends about how Joshua is more adept at tending to people’s physical than mental injuries.

She can’t help but stare at you. And you haven’t seen her. You’re clearly uncomfortable in the big crowd, shifting your weight first to your left foot, then to the right, and back to left. Your eyes scan the crowd and your head turns from side to side when different sounds catch your attention.

Ellie can see that you’ve changed since last spring as well. You hold your chin high, you stand tall, there’s curiosity in your eyes. Even through your nervousness there’s a delighted look on your face and you say something here and there. You’re with Diana, Brenda, Dan and Sasha, listening to their fast-paced conversation.

You take a sip from your cider cup, cradling it in your hands, drawing a slow circle against the surface with your fingertips. The flannel you’re wearing looks comfortable and the jeans look new, the denim still crisp and there’s minimal wear to them. They have to be from Sleeve and Stitch, the clothing and sewing room, that’s down the street.

They manage to make clothes look new with the way they patch them up and repair them. Then Ellie realises it. You’re not taking in your surroundings just because you’re curious about what’s happening around you or to see who has come out to celebrate tonight, no. You stop moving when you see what you’ve been searching for.

You step a little closer to the small circle of people around you, hiding behind Dan’s tall figure. You dip your chin down but keep your eyes towards the same picnic table where Maria, Tommy, Joel and baby Matilda are sitting. But now Tilda isn’t in Tommy’s arms anymore, she’s in Joel’s lap, his arms protectively around her middle. He’s talking into her ear, pointing at something on his mug. His owl mug.

Ellie looks at you and then at Joel, going back and forth until she’s completely sure you’re staring at him. There’s a sparkle of a smile on your lips, making your eyes glint in the orange sunlight. When Tilda starts to giggle at something, making Joel chuckle against the child, you bow your head down. Ellie can see faint crinkles next to your eyes as you grin at the ground.

“Here you go,” John startles Ellie, making her twist towards the man who has her full cider cup in his hand.

“Thanks,” she takes her mug and the carrots and starts her way back to her friends. But she can’t help but take one more look at you. As she moves away, she sees you staring at Joel again behind Dan’s shoulder, a melancholic look in your eyes.

“I think you can do better than that,” Maria snickers, cocks her brows at him and it’s a clear invitation for a challenge. He takes her hand firmer into his and pulls her closer. Her other hand rests on his shoulder as he sways her to the rhythm of the music.

There are people playing guitars and one playing the banjo, and two singers are harmonising their singing. The sound of a harmonica cuts in from time to time, making the music sound even more western than it already was. Maria is grinning the whole time as Joel gives his best. It’s been a while since he has danced, let alone danced with someone. As he twirls her around and then closes her against his chest before dipping her back, she’s laughing with her eyes closed.

Tommy left with Matilda a while ago, giving his wife a night without baby duties. He might’ve made a mistake as the strong alcohol has been brought out and all the patrollers are letting loose. The hanging lights above the street twinkle as the evening darkens and turns chillier. There’s laughter and people sing along, dancing in couples or small groups.

He checks on Ellie from time to time, making sure she’s still securely sitting with her friends by one of the hay piles, only drinking the apple cider from earlier and nothing more potent. Her cheeks are pink and her smile hasn’t left her face the whole day. She’s leaning against Jesse’s shoulder, Dina’s head on her lap as they all sway to the music while talking and basking in the glow of the party.

“I knew you had it in you,” Maria pats him on the shoulder. He shakes his head but deep down he’s pleased with himself.

“Want a drink?” His accent is coming through thicker now after having spent so much time with Tommy and especially after having a couple of drinks in him. Maria gives him her mug and asks him to fill it up, he’s going to be walking her home anyway.

He nods his head and gets to the makeshift outside bar, asking the woman behind the counter to fill the mugs with their fall mix. He knows it has apple in it, of course, but it’s also warm, a little smokey and a little sweet, like it has been aged for a few years.

He leans his elbows against the counter and looks out towards the street filled with people unleashing their dance skills and letting their hair down. Some of his patrol partners wave at him and he nods back at them, a lazy smirk on his face as he relishes in the cheery atmosphere and peaceful thrum of his content thoughts on this golden night. All the pieces that seemed to be in a messy pile in his head have clicked into place, making him worry less and enjoy living a bit more.

There’s that ache of sorrow in him, it never leaves, but it’s not pulling him down all the time. He’s made friends with his memories, his ghosts, his grief. He’ll always carry them with him, but he lets himself live again as well.

He breathes and his lungs fill without feeling like they’re going to explode. He hears laughter around him, not just cries of pain or agony. He sees people living their lives, realising that’s what he’s here to do as well even when sometimes he feels like his life stopped a long time ago. But still he pushes through, welcoming the small wonders and joys of life back into his heart.

And he sleeps, oh he sleeps through most of the night. Sometimes his nightmares come to the surface, remind him of all his failures and violence, but he knows how to calm himself now. He’s actually living for the first time since the outbreak.

Who could’ve known that would happen in the time of cordyceps when there’s that daily reminder that everything outside this town is nothing like it used to be. He’s letting himself rest tonight, lets himself enjoy the celebration and take in the soft feeling of joy. Moments like these remind him that there can still be something good out there, some fun to be had.

“Here ya go, Joel,” the woman tells him and he turns to take the mugs with him. He stops dead in his tracks, his eyes landing on you. Smiling, swaying to the music, talking with Brenda.

Your eyes glint in the warm twinkling lights, your hand protectively around your ribs. You sip something from your mug and close your eyes as you swallow. You tap your fingers against the mug and when Diana appears out of nowhere, taking part in the conversation as well, he sees you mouthing the words to the song that the band is playing. He didn’t even notice before that he too remembers the song, even some of the lyrics.

He remembers they listened to it in the car with Sarah many times during their drives and Sarah always sang along a few words here and there, humming the rest. He can’t hear you from this distance. Instinctively he steps closer, only to be met with the bar counter.

He feels a hand on his elbow and when he turns to look, Maria is standing next to him. She has also seen you.

“They’re going to start working at the stables again next week,” she nods at you and then shifts her eyes to Joel, a gentle expression on her face.

“If you’d like to go and say hello,” she nudges her elbow against him before she takes her mug.

“C’mon, lets drink these and then I want you to show me some of your other dance moves,” Maria takes a step towards the swaying and shimmying people, encouraging him to disappear into the crowd. He gives you one last look, noticing how you duck your head down, twisting away just the slightest.

He fills his mouth with the alcohol and lets the warmth spread through his throat as he swallows it in one go. He senses Ellie’s eyes on him. When he looks at her and her little group of friends, Ellie lifts her brows questioningly at him, before her eyes dart towards you. Joel shakes his head, motions his head towards Maria and leaves the bar. He follows his sister-in-law into the mass of people, his heart stuttering on its roots.

“Does Joel have the hots for them?” Dina asks Ellie, who has just pointed out how you both were staring at each other, managing to avoid being caught by the other.

“How the fuck should I know,” Ellie shakes her head, her voice dismissive with an edge of humor. Her friends chuckle, Jesse changing the subject to talk about his dad, who had tried to show him some dance moves from the time before.

Apparently they had gone to some places called clubs where they had danced until the early morning hours, doing different moves that have ridiculous names like the sprinkler or the running man. It didn’t make any sense. Did people just run around these clubs?

Ellie listens to her friends but smiles to herself, their voices drowning out as she keeps an eye on what’s happening outside her group. She sees you locate Joel again, who’s taken Maria on the dance floor once more. Ellie has never seen him dance, let alone move like this, twirling her around and letting the music lead them.

And she has never seen him look at someone like the way he looks at you, eyes wide and like someone had taken his breath away. Another new look he gives to people other than Ellie.

He has his friendly side, the one who listens to acquaintances around town and smiles and nods. Then there’s the patrol side, hard and focused, clear, and alert. With Tommy and Maria he’s relaxed, mostly settling into easy silence or slow flowing conversation.

He’s funny and warm with Ellie, with a side of strictness that doesn’t suffocate her or force her to do as he tells her. Just advice here or there, looking after her and making sure she’s safe. She sighs with the sadness tugging in her chest, how she wishes he could just be honest with her. With Matilda he’s somehow younger and still him, but once again someone new.

You follow his moves, swinging to the music yourself. Your head tilts to the side when you take in the way he’s making Maria twirl or leading her in the middle of the other swaying bodies. Ellie rolls her eyes when she sees him doing something they saw in a movie a few weeks ago.

But you smile and take a sip of your drink, hiding your mouth behind the mug. You try to focus on the conversation around you, but it doesn’t take long until you’re following Joel holding both of Maria’s hands, nudging her to take a step back before he pulls her back to him and spins them in a circle to the upbeat, easy tempo. Diana hugs you to her side and you lean your head against her shoulder. You look happy.

And then Ellie sees it again. The song ends and another one is about to start, when Joel finds you in the crowd, just when you turn your back and weave your way out of the town center with Brenda leading and Diana following the both of you. Ellie can see the gentle wistfulness on his face ways away as he stands still, Maria saying something into his ear. The song starts and he pulls his shoulders back and fixes his brown checkered flannel in the back of his jeans. He takes Maria’s hand and the harmonies envelope them into another dance.

“I’m gonna stay out a bit longer,” Ellie hollers from the door, a hoodie hanging from her arm.

“Isn’t it a bit late already?” Joel questions, glass of water in his hand as he steps out of the kitchen to see her open the door. She doesn’t face him, just shuffles her feet, her hand coming to play with the strings of her hoodie. He takes slow steps towards her, the alcohol draining out of his system after spending so much time outside and the sobering walk home.

“Who are going to be with you?” Tension builds between them and Joel can’t stand the disconnect between him and Ellie. He doesn’t understand it either. Things seem to be fine with them most of the time, and then other times there’s discomfort and awkwardness that he can’t explain. He wasn’t expecting tonight to be one of the nights when she gives him the cold shoulder. She sighs and finally looks up, hardness in her eyes.

“My friends,” she dismisses the question, pure annoyance clear in her voice. “They’re coming to the garage, you can come and check on us if you don’t believe me.” The sharpness in her tone makes his skin prickle. Everything was fine at the party. And now it’s all going downhill. Nothing has changed and everything has changed at the same time and he has no idea how he could mend things between the two of them.

“Okay fine, but take the key, don’t stay up too late and no funny business!” He has to yell the last words when she’s already stepping out the door after the okay leaves his mouth.

He stands still, heaviness settling into his chest. He knows when his anxiety makes itself present and this is once again that moment. He stares at the water in his glass, takes a sip but the coldness makes his throat only tighten. He sets the glass on the kitchen counter and leans against it.

What on earth has gotten to that girl? She spends most of her time with her friends and it seems like the only times he sees her are at Tommy and Maria’s during their weekly dinner or during one of their movie nights, when she seems to be either incredibly invested in the movie or deep in her own thoughts, the movie flowing by her without her knowing what it was about. Or when she gets something to eat from the fridge before she escapes into her garage again.

Sometimes he gets home from town or patrol when she’s doing her homework at the dining room table after school, but she wants those moments to be quiet and he can’t bother her. And then she’s once again out the door or giving herself space by being in the garage. Maybe it’s a teenage thing? He was a teenager once and he wanted his own space, have fun with friends or with his high school sweetheart.

Maybe Ellie has found someone special and he just doesn’t have a clue. Maybe he just needs to make more of an effort into spending time with her, reassure her she can always talk about anything with him even if it’s something embarrassing. The thought about having the talk with her passes his mind. He doesn’t know what kind of sex ed they gave at the FEDRA school she was at and even though she’s already 15, he just wants her to remember to be safe.

He sighs, makes his way into the living room and throws himself on the couch. He covers his eyes with his arm, the heaviness of the alcohol still seeping through, making everything a bit blurry at the edges, a bit numb in his mind. He takes deep breaths and lets his body relax against the worn leather of the seat.

She can trust him. He just needs to show her that.

A soft knock at the door makes him groan. Ellie must’ve forgotten the key again. He really needs to put a spare one under a rock or hide it somewhere outside so she can find it the next time. He stands up, rubbing his hand against his face to get himself a bit more awake.

“I told you to take the key,” he’s already calling out when he trudges to the door and opens it forcefully. He freezes, all words leaving him. His mind goes totally blank, his hand squeezing the door handle. He can’t look anywhere else either.

“Hi,” you say quietly, a neat bundle in your hands. “Sorry, I don’t have the keys, I just… don’t have the keys to your house,” you chuckle at your own joke but your smile drops the longer you look at him. Not a single crack to his exterior, just a statue of a man keeping the door open.

“Sorry I’m here so late, I wasn’t really tired and… Well I remembered I still have your clothes and wanted to bring them over.” Your arms squeeze the bundle a bit tighter against you, hesitation spreading into your thoughts.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve met him for the first time since spring during the day and somewhere more neutral, not at his home. He shakes his head, blinks his eyes a few times and he inhales his lungs full of the cool night air.

“Come on in,” he moves aside and lets you step in.

The mood is incredibly awkward and neither of you really know what to say. You both stand opposite each other, plenty of space between the two of you as you stand on either side of the hallway. You reach the clothes to him, letting go of them when he secures his hands around the pile.

“You want anything to drink? Water, something stronger?” He asks and you gasp out a laughter.

“Definitely not anything stronger, I’ve drank enough already. Water is fine, thanks.” You feel like you can’t stop the words once they start to flow out, your nerves taking the best of you.

You watch him walk into the kitchen and your stomach tingles with insecurity. You drank way too much tonight. The buzz you still felt when you got home to Diana and Brenda’s was the reason why you dug out Joel’s clothes you’ve been keeping neatly folded in your dresser. You thought it would be a good idea to bring them over when you still had that courage to do so. But when you were walking here, the buzz started to fade and it didn’t seem like the greatest idea anymore.

You feel foolish standing still so you take your shoes off and follow Joel into the kitchen. Nothing has changed since the last time you were here. Yes, the last time… It’s fresh in your memory and at the same time so blurry that you can’t be sure what actually happened. You just know it all went to shit and it’s been a long journey to get from that to here, to how you’re now, to you feeling like a functional human again.

Joel takes a glass and pours it full of cold water from the pitcher in the fridge. He hands it to you and you take it with a smile but your shoulders tense up and you can’t look up. The silence around you stretches into almost uncomfortable quietness.

He stands right in front of you, his back straight, and you can’t dare to face him. You feel your whole body filling with nervous energy as your mind wants to remind you what actually happened the last time you saw him. You try to shut it out, but it’s all there, right in front of you.

It was always so much easier to address what went down when you were making sense of it all to yourself or talking about it with Diana. Now that you’re here with the person, who you’ve wanted to talk for a while now, who you’ve been preparing to talk to, it’s somehow incredibly hard. You fill your lungs with the air and scent of his home and your tongue runs against your lips to wet them. You’re consciously making yourself ready to open your mouth, reminding yourself of what you’ve wanted to say to him all these months.

“Did you have fun tonight, at the party?” Joel asks suddenly, walking past you and his arm brushes against yours. You lift your gaze to face him when his voice fills your ears and lose all composure, when he turns his back to you. You follow him once again, like an invisible string is pulling you to him, making you go wherever he goes.

“Yeah, it was nice. Though, I was really nervous before we got there. I wouldn’t have wanted to go at first, even the thought about being there in the middle of everybody freaked me out. Brenda, you know Diana’s wife, told me that she can leave early with me whenever I want, but luckily when we got there and stayed there a while it wasn’t as bad as I first had made it out to be…” You ramble on, your voice getting quieter the longer words flow out of your mouth.

You feel like you’re losing a battle against your nerves and they’re making sure you feel as ridiculous as you now do after blabbering for a solid moment. You clear your drying throat and tip the glass against your lips, sipping the cold water and letting it soothe you.

Joel stops in the middle of the living room. You keep your distance, cradling the glass between your palms. You’re not sure what’s happening as he just stands still. Should you stay standing or should you maybe take a seat on the couch? Suddenly he turns towards you and you swallow hard when you see his face. He looks different.

Some of the hard lines on his skin have smoothed, even though they’re still there. He looks well rested, his eyes bright and mouth soft. There’s no tension on his face, like the last time you were here. He takes a tentative step towards you, then another, before he passes by you again, avoiding your eyes.

“Wait here,” his rich voice fills your ears, making you shiver. The atmosphere is interesting to say the least and you don’t know what to make of it. The longer you’re here, the more you think about how late it is and how much of a mistake it probably was to come here. You don’t see where he went but you’re alone and you’re trying to calm your jittery thoughts.

You make your way towards the couch, but right when you’re about to sit you take a turn and make your way to the bookshelf. A few of the books are missing, clear gaps between some and the different titles are leaning against each other for support. You see a stack of DVDs on one of the shelves and you look towards the TV. An open, lonely DVD case rests in front of it. Joel and Ellie must’ve watched it together, or at least that’s what you figure out when you remember what you heard Tommy tell Maria in the dining hall, when you sat behind their table one day last week.

You kept your head low. The whole idea of going to the dining hall for lunch was like a challenge you wanted to set for yourself. If you were able to go there to have lunch and sit without having the urge to leave right away, you’d be able to do almost anything. You told yourself to eat calmly while you sat alone by one of the tables. You don’t think they saw you. The hall was calm anyway at that time that day.

You hear Joel’s footsteps in the kitchen and your nervousness soars once more. You move to the couch and sit down but you don’t know what the most natural pose would be. You lean your back against the cushions but you don’t feel comfortable. The glass in your hand trembles and you reach to place it on the coffee table in front of you. You straighten your back and cross your ankles, but you feel too official in that position. You uncross your legs and lean your elbows to your knees, but it’s even more unnatural than the position before.

You hear Joel’s footsteps getting closer to the living room, slow and soft against the wooden floor under his socked feet. You try to sigh as silently as you can but even you can hear how frustrated your breathing sounds flowing through your mouth. Right when Joel appears behind the corner, you stand up and stare at each other for a moment. You look at his hands and see a neatly folded pile of clothes and shoes he’s carrying in his other hand. Your clothes.

He places the shoes on the floor closer to the front door and then closes the distance between you two, sitting on the sofa. You sit down at the same time. He stretches his arm out to you, offering your clothes back and you look at them like they’re some alien object when you finally take them into your hands.

Your fingertips brush against the back of his hand. You hadn’t even thought about how your clothes would still be here, though where else would they have been? You thought only about the clothes you had on when you were brought to Diana’s. Joel’s clothes. You go through the pile, recognising the shirt, sweatpants, and socks.

“They’re clean,” he says, as if you were just assessing that. “Don’t worry, Ellie didn’t wash them.” His voice is low and quiet, the gentle humor peeking through. When you look up at his face, there’s a smirk on his lips that he’s directing to your clothes on your lap.

“Does Ellie ever wash clothes?” Your question makes him chuckle.

“That kid has better things to do than laundry.” He relaxes against the couch, his arm reaching over the back, reaching closer to you, and his elbow buried into the arm rest, as he rests his head against the knuckles of his fist. He keeps looking at you, self-consciousness making home in your body.

You had forgotten how broad he is, how he takes up space in the room, making you feel small in comparison in the process. He has his undivided attention on you, looking at you, assessing you, waiting for you to do something, say something. But when you look at him, you lose all words from your head.

The way he commands you with his quiet presence is disarming, something you haven’t noticed before with him. He's somehow different even though you two have spent time together, just the two of you. But that was months ago. And you were so completely lost. You gravitated towards him because he seemed safe. He meant safety. Now you’re not thinking about safety or who can protect you. You seem somehow equal.

At the same time, in a weird way you don’t feel like you’re equals at all. He’s dominating in his own home. This is his space. And you’re sitting on his couch holding onto a pile of clothes that you left here, clinging to them for support. The clothes he washed. And they still smell like that pine detergent people make here.

You feel small and scared. And awfully powerful at the same time. He’s giving you space to do whatever you want. You just don’t know what to do with that space. You’re like a completely different person around him, like you’ve just met, and he doesn’t know a thing about you.

You feel open, soft, you’d tell him anything if he asked. Your therapy sessions with Diana have helped but they’ve also made you realise how you’ve missed your old self. That person who knew when to trust their gut, knew where to stand, what to say, be confident. You’ve come to understand you’re still those things, and so much more now. Or maybe it’s the alcohol that you consumed tonight, making you tingle with gentle heaviness, making you a bit reckless, a bit braver than you might normally be.

You have to look away from him. He’s held your stare long enough. Your cheeks and neck sting with heat spreading across your skin. You lay the clothes pile on the table, being careful not to knock over the glass of water. In the farthest corner of the room, in the shadows, you see something familiar. You stand up without a word and walk towards it.

“You play this?” You ask as you touch the neck of the guitar. You turn to look at him and he leans forward very slowly. Your thumb touches one of the strings, giving it a strum. It hums with a deep sound, the melodic instrument demanding your careful touch.

“I did, but it’s been a while. Tommy found it a while back, I just haven’t had the…” He stops and when you look back at him in interest, he shifts his eyes away, a deep sadness crossing his features. There’s a darkness that you recognise immediately.

“My sister used to play the guitar. She was so talented, she wanted me to learn it too. But I didn’t learn it as quickly as she did. So she played it and I sang,” you tell him, playing a quiet melody on the strings, your fingers supported against the neck while your thumb works the strings. You offer him a piece of your history, your grief, that you hope will ease his pain. The guitar clearly holds a significance. That’s why he hasn’t been able to play it.

“You sing?” He suddenly asks and you snort out a laugh.

“I’m not a great singer, but it’s always been fun in a weird way. Don’t ask me to sing, I will not,” you clarify and leave the guitar alone. You walk slowly back to the couch and sit down.

“Who would’ve guessed you sing when you weren’t able to even talk a few months back.” His voice is full of that same humor from earlier, but also uncertainty, like he’s not sure if he’s crossing a boundary and this is something he can joke about with you.

“Ouch,” you laugh and look at him incredulous with dramatic flare by bringing your hand against your chest, making him know you’re not really offended. “Did you really just make fun of me and what I went through?”

“Sorry, it was just too good to pass,” he’s watching you incredibly carefully, ready to take it back.

“Uh huh, too good, yeah.” You roll your eye at him.

“Sorry… I mean it, sorry, it wasn’t funny.” His voice lowers and you look at him under your brow.

“It’s a bit funny,” you admit, your warm smile melting him as well.

You lean against the couch, some sort of a relief washing over you. The mood isn’t as tense anymore and the ice has been broken. The sound from the instrument has faded, but somewhere in your memory you can hear your sister picking away at her guitar that she had in the QZ.

She was a magician with a guitar. She learnt new songs incredibly quickly and if she heard something, she might’ve known how to play it by ear the next day. She came up with all these silly lyrics to songs that she composed herself, making you and your brother laugh until you were all hollering the song.

She left her guitar when you all left the QZ. You didn’t hear her play it again.

“I promised Ellie I’d teach her to play the guitar, but she hasn’t asked even though it has been sitting here for weeks. And I just haven’t been able to pick it up because…” He swallows hard. He’s building his courage up to something, it’s so visible in the way he speaks and stops himself right before he lets you in. It’s hard to bring those barriers down, to let someone in to let them see the good and the ugly, the laughter and the pain.

“Maybe she doesn’t know how to ask, when she hasn’t heard you play it?” His eyes flash on you and you instantly feel like you’ve overstepped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like you have to play it or that I’m forcing you to play it, I’m— I’m not saying that you have to, ever, if you don’t want to, I get it, it can be painful if there are memories or… you know I didn’t mean…” You can feel yourself choke and your eyes getting wider. You hide your face in your hands, forcing yourself to stop talking.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Why is this so hard? Why are your nerves and anxiety coming and going in waves, uncovering your insecurity around him in the oddest way. You feel like a teenager who doesn’t have the mental maturity to have these conversations or express your thoughts.

You feel the lightest of touches on your shoulder and your breathing hitches in your throat. With a final sigh you dare to reveal your face again and look at him. You see his arm on the back of the couch retrieving as he’s pulling back from you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll play it if you want, or you don’t have to play it ever. Forget what I said, I’m just…”

“Nervous?” He fills in instantly and there’s a warmth in his voice that calms you down.

“Yeah,” your voice squeaks in resignation. The hum from his chest accompanies the sensitive smile on his lips, his eyes cast downwards.

“The guitar…” You dare to settle into watching him, giving him your full attention like he has been giving you. His attention has drifted to the instrument in the dark corner though, his fingers tracing endless figures against the worn leather of the couch, something you could see him do to soothe himself.

“I used to play it a lot, to my daughter. She used to love hearing it and she tried to learn it, but she didn’t have the patience that you have to have when you get used to playing it. So she usually just listened.” The tone of his voice makes your insides ache. It’s so gentle and far away, like he’s not even here with you but with his daughter.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” you match his voice, keeping it quiet and gentle.

“Very few people do,” he looks back at you, his head leaning back against his knuckles and his lashes frame his half lidded dark eyes. His admission explains a lot to you.

“What was her name?”

“Sarah.”

“Beautiful name.”

“She was.” The back and forth between you two is in a way comforting, like a curtain that is opened to let daylight in. But in this moment, there’s only darkness on the other side of the windows and you’re enveloped with dusky oranges and browns, the ceiling light working with the power it’s given.

It’s like you’re inside a small, comfortable pillow fort, where things can be said and admitted and they’ll stay hidden until someone wants to bring them to light. A quiet settles on the both of you and you let it sit in your chest. It brings up the numbness of your own grief for your siblings.

“Why did you come here?” He finally asks, and it’s not an accusation. You can see it on his face. He’s purely curious.

“I wanted to apologise, for last time.” You bite the inside of your cheek, your nerves bubbling back up, but stay on a manageable level for you to not completely lose yourself to them.

“What is there to apologise?” His brows draw together in confusion, a deep crease forming between them. You can see that the answer is like a reflex because he needs that apology. You need to give that to him.

“A lot, actually. You basically saved me, in every way.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “And the last time I was here, I was really at my lowest. I didn’t even know I could feel that way. I hadn’t slept properly for a couple of weeks and I just replayed everything in my head. It all just came to a head.”

“What are you apologising for then?” He’s actually perplexed.

“How I…” You fill your lungs with air and let it flow out between your lips and look him straight in the eyes. The strength from earlier flows back into your veins and the way he’s waiting for you to say what you want to say makes you surprisingly calm. He’s not expecting you to finish saying what you want to say, he’s giving you the time to collect yourself and make sure you say what you truly mean. And you do.

“I’m sorry that I poured it all on you. We don’t know each other and I feel like you had to endure my panic attacks and trauma even though I had no right to do so. And I apologise for that.”

He doesn’t say a word for a long moment and his silence makes your bravery drain out and uneasiness settle in your mind. What if he doesn’t accept your apology? What if he doesn’t want to hear this? What if you’re really crossing a boundary, by coming here and then apologising?

You try to tell your head to shut up and stay calm. You reason with it by reminding yourself that he gave you time to collect your thoughts, you should be able to give him the same chance. The longer the moment stretches, you realise you’re trying to understand the emotions that are crossing his face.

Joel doesn’t look angry, not at all. There’s the hint of his brows pulling together, and then relaxing and his eyes look at you with such intensity that someone who hasn’t been around him before might find it unnerving or even scary. But it’s not something to be scared of or him trying to show you that he’s in control. He looks like he’s trying to figure you out, to understand you and why you felt like it was important for you to apologise in the first place. He seems to come to some sort of a resolution quietly and slowly, the look in his eyes softening and there’s a smallest glint of a genuine smile on his lips before he relaxes again.

“I think we’ve all been there at some point,” he finally says and the delicate earnestness in his eyes doesn’t let you turn away. You know exactly what he means. You know why he was so easy for you to rely on. Because you know he has seen it all. He has been there himself. Maybe even worse.

“You’re forgiven,” he nods forward and looks at you under his brow, his dark eyes in shadows in the dim lighting, a glint in them sparkling in the deep brown.

“Thank you,” your voice breaks and is barely audible. A door you’ve waited to walk through for months is in front of you and as your words leave your mouth, it happens. You step through it and the door closes. A part of yourself that you’re ready to let go of and move forward from separates from you. You sigh and your shoulders relax.

You see the clock on the wall and the ticking of the pointers tell you that the time has flown by and midnight has passed a long time ago.

“I should get going, it’s getting late.” You pick up the pile of clothes from the table and stand up. He follows you to the door and watches you, as you pull your boots on. You tuck the clothes closer to your body.

“Thanks for keeping my clothes here,” you tell him when you’re at the door, ready to turn the handle.

“Where else would I have put them?” He raises his brows, more as a joke than in question.

“Good point,” you laugh gently and open the door.

“Goodnight,” you wish him, looking back. He comes closer and leans against the door frame. You almost feel his body heat radiating off of him against you as you breathe in the mixture of the freshness of the autumn air and him.

“Goodnight.” His voice matches the night, balmy and full of quietness. You turn from him and step out. You hear the door close with a quiet click when you’ve stepped down the porch stairs. Your feet slow their movement until you’re standing completely still.

The inky sky is full of stars. They look so far away, making you feel incredibly small and incredibly conscious of your existence in the vastness of the endlessness the sky offers.

Without a second thought you turn back around and step the porch stairs back up. You lay the clothes on the floor with your shoes and knock on the door again. You see Joel’s figure getting closer through the windows in the door and when he opens it, he’s surprised. Some of the soft greying waves on top of his head are sticking out, like he had just ran his fingers through them.

“Hi,” you offer your hand to him and he looks at it in confusion.

“Hi?” He brings his palm against yours slowly, enveloping your hand into a handshake.

“I’m a neighbour from a few streets away. I live with Diana and her wife at the moment. I might be moving out at some point though, not yet, but sometime soon hopefully. I start working at the stables next week. Just wanted to come and say hi, get to know the neighbours.” You talk and talk, nerves spiking. His face relaxes, a smile grows on his cheeks. He can definitely feel your palm getting sweaty against his warm skin, but you don’t let go.

You tell him your name, hoping for him to catch on what you’re trying to do. Like you said before, you don’t know him and he doesn’t know you, even though you’ve shared your troubles and nightmares with him. It’s time for you to actually introduce yourself properly to him. You recognise the hope inside you for him to want to do the same.

He looks down at your joined hands, and then right into your eyes.

“I’m Joel,” his voice reverberates into your ears and through your body, the low drawl crawling into your chest and staying there, making your pulse pick up speed.

He squeezes your hand gently. You squeeze back. You take a small step forward, without even realizing you’re doing it. You just know that he’s just slightly closer to you suddenly. You’re really just holding his hand at this point, not knowing where to take this.

You hadn’t planned this, definitely hadn’t thought this through and you didn’t even know if this was a good idea. It seems like you’re doubting all your decisions tonight. Coming here proved to be the right move. Maybe this will go your way as well. You sense yourself getting empty, emptier still, the longer you look at him and the confident smirk that’s growing on his face.

“Well, I got to get going, maybe I’ll see you later?” You ask, the hopeful note making you cringe inside. You don’t want to sound desperate or too eager, so you hide them with your hushed voice. He’s suddenly very close, closer than before, like he would’ve just taken a step forward as well. His fingers brush against the inside of your wrist soothingly and tap against it a couple of times in time with your pulse.

“I’m counting on it.” He pulls his hands slowly away, his fingertips running from your wrist to your palm, against your own fingers and fingertips, until you let go. You can feel his touch all over your hand, like he’s still holding it, wrapping your hand with his large one. You skin is sensitive in the wake of his touch. It sparkles and tingles, like electricity.

You pick up the clothes and shoes and smile at him, turning back around. You let out the shakiest breath when you step down the porch stairs and walk to the street. All your nervous energy bursts out of you and you shiver as you can still sense his hand against yours. You walk away and never hear the door close behind you.

#the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fan fiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #katsheadincloudswrites #fractured fic

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callsign-magnolia · 1 year

Text

I Hope You Dance // Ch. 51

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

A/N: This is cross posted to my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why!

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 6.7k

Chapter 50 | Masterlist

It was like time slowed down as Rooster fell to the floor. His face was pale, the white shirt beneath his favorite Hawaiian shirt which was one that belonged to his dad, was quickly turning red. His gaze held mine as he fell and I lunged forward, my fingers gripping the soft cotton fabric in my attempts to stop him. He crashed to the floor with a thud, a cry of pain escaping him as he did. I practically threw myself to the floor, hands shaking as I reached for his chest stopping short. "Oh my god. Bradley." The blood spread across his shirt and I stared at it until his voice broke my trance. "Caila." I looked at him. He was gasping as tears filled his eyes. "Okay." I whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing. "You're gonna be okay." I turned back to the stunned crowd. "SOMEONE GETS ME SCISSORS, TOWELS AND CALL AN AMBULANCE!" I yelled and immediately people jumped into action. Someone tossed me a whole bunch of towels, and Phoenix handed me a pair of scissors. “I already have 911 on the phone.” A girl said as she rushed over, holding her phone up as she put it on speaker. “This is Lieutenant Motley. My fiance, Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, has been shot.” The words alone brought tears to my eyes as I cut his shirt open. “Okay. We already have the address and police are on their way. Can you tell if any major organs have been hit?” I shook my head, grabbing a towel and pressing it to his chest. “No, I can’t but he’s been hit in the chest, a little to the left.” I heard clicking on the other end as she typed. Rooster yelling as I applied pressure. “I know honey. I’m sorry.” I said as tears fell from his eyes. “Okay, I have an ambulance en route and should be there within three minutes.” I hope she was right and they arrived in that time, it can only take five to bleed out. “Just keep pressure on his chest, keep him alert and talking. Medics will take it from there.” I nodded and the girl pulled her phone away. “I’ll keep her on the line just in case.” She said before standing.

“B-bradley?” A broken voice said from behind me. I turned to see Mav with tears in his eyes. “Bradley?” He fell to his knees beside me as I took the now blood red towel off his chest and grabbed a fresh one. “AH!” He yelled and tears flooded my eyes as he cried out in pain. “I”m so sorry, Bradley.” This was my fault and now I was putting him in more pain. Mav grabbed his hand, squeezing as he leaned over him. “I don’t…” He gasped as I applied more pressure. “Wanna die.” I shook my head, one hand reaching up, cradling his cheek. “You won’t. I promise. I’m doing everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.” I said. Hangman and Coyote rushed over, breathing heavy. “We scoured the beach and nothing. No person, no footprints, no signs of anyone shooting in through the glass.” I glanced up, seeing the broken glass that separated the pool tables from the back deck. “Caila.” I looked down at Bradley, his hand coming up to brush my hair from my face. “Save your energy, honey. You’re gonna need it.” I said, grabbing the hand he lifted and pulling it close to his chest. “I love you.” He whispered. “I love you too, Bradley. More than anything, honey.” My tears dripped onto his neck as I leaned over him. His eyes started rolling back and a sob escaped me. “No, Roo. Honey c’mon.” I said, replacing the blood stained towel again. “Bradley.” Mav said, dropping his hand and grabbing his face, patting it to wake him up. “Rooster, come on. Stay with us.” He said. I let Mav focus on keeping him awake and I focused on his wound, keeping as much blood inside his body as possible. “I feel cold.” He muttered and more tears soaked my face. “Okay. We’ll get you warm again.” Mav looked up, pointing at Payback to grab his jacket. Payback handed it to him and he covered what he could of Bradley with it.

Sirens filled the silence and everyone rushed for the door. “Help is here, Roo. We’re gonna get you help.” I said and Mav and I tried to keep him awake but it was becoming harder and harder. “MOVE! OUT OF THE WAY!” Jake yelled and the team helped to split the crowd as the medics rushed over. I grabbed another towel, pressing down as a medic came over. “Ma’am.” I heard him, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go. “Caila.” Mav said, laying a hand on my shoulder. I reluctantly let go of the towel and the medics jumped in and I was pushed back. I lost sight of him and everything started to set in. I was losing him. At this very minute, he was bleeding out in front of me and the thought settled in that this could’ve been our last night together. “Caila.” Phoenix rested her hands on my arms and my eyes met hers. “Deep breaths. You have to breathe.” I didn’t even realize I wasn’t breathing till she said anything and I gasped for breath. The action set off my tears, body shaking as Phoenix pulled me into her. I watched over her shoulder as the medics worked on Rooster before placing him on a gurney. I rushed over as they moved to wheel him out. “Can I ride with him?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Normally, we would allow it, but we need all the room we can get to work on him.” I sobbed, my legs working overtime to keep me standing. “What hospital is he going to?” I choked out. “Naval Medical Center.” I nodded and he rushed out the doors and to the ambulance.

My hands shook and my mind reeled. What do I do now? Police were taking statements from everyone and I just stood in this crowded room. I prayed for the earth to stop on its axis, to stop time, even go back. I could move him to the side, we could’ve stayed a few minutes longer, I could’ve taken his place. It was so avoidable and yet, here we are. He’s off to a hospital and I’m standing here, staring at my blood soaked hands as everyone walked by in slow motion. “Magnolia?” I looked up just as Coyote laid his hands on my shoulders. “What do you need?” He asked as my tears streaked my neck. “Um, uh…” It took me a minute to gather my thoughts but finally I did. “A ride. I need a ride to the Naval Medical Center.” He nodded and led me to the doors before I gasped. “MAV!” Mav had to go with me, this was just as hard on him as it was on me. He jumped up from behind the bar, pulling Penny up with him who looked terrified. “We’re going to the hospital!” Coyote yelled through the crowd and he dropped Penny’s hands before turning back to her, almost conflicted. She mouthed something to him before he kissed her forehead, grabbed his jacket and hopped the bar. “Come on.” He said, gently grabbing my arm as him and Coyote dragged me out to the parking lot. “This is Payback’s car.” He nodded. “He tossed me the keys before I came over to you.”

They helped me in before we took off down the road, speeding through every traffic light and stop sign that stood in our way. I shook in the seat the whole way, sobs racking my body. What if he didn’t make it? What if he was dead by the time we got there? I couldn’t bare the thought of never seeing those warm brown eyes again, never hearing his voice again. Never hearing him tell me he loves me. Oh god. The thought alone sent me spiraling. Mav reached from the back seat, laying a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. “Comin’ up on the hospital.” Coyote said and he pulled up by the emergency room and Mav and I all but threw the car doors off the hinges before we sprinted into the ER. I heard rushed footsteps behind us but I didn’t care. Because when I rounded a corner, medics were pushing the gurney Bradley was on, and another medic was on top of him doing compressions. “NO!” I rushed forward, following after the gurney. But as soon as he was pushed through the doors a nurse stopped me. “Ma’am! You can’t go in there!” She said, but I didn’t care. I went to shove past her when security grabbed me. “NO! BRADLEY!” They shoved me backwards, right onto someone's arms. They wrapped around me as I fell to the floor, sobs shaking my body as I sobbed. “Sh, it’s okay.” Bob whispered in my ear before he sat on the floor, holding me. “I can’t lose him.” I cried and he nodded. “I know. I know. But the doctors are gonna do everything they can to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He said, squeezing me. “Caila!” Phoenix’s voice brought me out of my head and I looked up just as she fell to her knees, sliding over and leaning over me. “It’s okay. I promise, it’s gonna be okay.” She said, holding me in Bob’s lap.

The rest of the team flooded in and after about twenty minutes Bob and Phoenix helped me off the floor. They sat me in a seat and sat on either side of me, Phoenix pulled my head to her shoulder as Bob threw his arm around my own shoulder. “Any news?” Hangman asked as he walked in, taking a seat next to Maverick who had his face in his hands. “No.” I croaked out. “But they-they were doing compressions when they wheeled him back there.” I cried as I pointed to the doors he disappeared behind. Jake’s face fell at my words, resting his hand on Mav’s back. With that, we sat in silence, waiting with bated breath for some news. “Bradshaw?” I leapt to my feet, watching as a short doctor made her way over. “That’s me.” I said and she looked at his chart. “And who are you in relation to him?” She asked. “His fiance.” She sighed. “Anyone else here that’s related to him?” Mav came over, grabbing my shoulder as he stood next to me. “I’m his godfather.” She seemed frustrated. “Anyone that is blood related to him? I’m not really supposed to give information to anyone else.” I grew angry fast, heat rushing through my body. “No! His parents are dead and his aunt is a piece of shit! So you can give the information to us, or you can go find a doctor that will!” I yelled and she seemed shocked.

After a moment she gathered herself, and cleared her throat. “Very well. He’s lost a lot of blood, and once we complete his blood transfusion we will move him into surgery. We don’t feel comfortable putting him under until that’s completed.” I nodded as Mav gripped me tightly. “The bullet was large caliber, most likely from a sniper rifle.” Bile rose in my throat at her words. “His lung did collapse and we are treating that until surgery.” I nodded. “And what will be done in surgery?” I asked. “We will go in and suture up the arteries that were hit and close the wound itself. He has an entrance and an exit wound, which means the bullet left his body. Then we will go in and place a chest tube in so his lung can inflate properly.” I nodded. “And how long will this surgery take?” She shrugged. “It can take an hour to multiple hours. We won’t know the severity until we get in there. But I need your information on this paper, and we will call you with updates.” I nodded, putting my name, number and relation on the paper before she took the clipboard back. “Okay, his transfusion is almost done, so me and his team are going to scrub in.” I nodded as she walked back through the doors and the tears started again. “Oh my god.” I cried, Mav hugging me close as he cried as well. “He’s gonna be okay. If he’s anything like his parents, he’ll be fine.”

Phoenix came over, laying her hand on my back. “Caila. Why don’t you go home and shower.” I shot up, rounding on her. “I’m not going anywhere! There is no force on heaven or earth that is going to move me from this spot until I get news that he’s okay.” She seemed shocked, backing up until Hangman came between us. “What she means, Magnolia, is you have Bradshaw’s blood all over your hands, your dress, your legs. It’s not… sanitary and when Rooster wakes up, if he sees you like this, he’s going to panic.” I looked down at my body, seeing he was right. I thought about his words, knowing he was right, but the thought of leaving made me nauseous. “I’ll stay here.” Mav said, coming up by me. “Plus, they’ll call you with any updates.” Payback said. “Quick shower and Hangman and I will pack bags for you guys. When he wakes up, he’s going to hate that hospital gown.” Phoenix said and I thought about it. It takes roughly twenty minutes to get home from here, that’s forty minutes to get there and back. “You have at least an hour and a half before they’re even possibly done with his surgery. He’s still getting his transfusion and it’s going to be at least half an hour before they get him in.” Fanboy pointed out. “If we pack for you that cuts your time practically in half.” Phoenix said and I sighed. They’re right. I hated to admit it, but I could feel the blood drying and cracking on my skin. “I don’t want to be gone more than forty-five minutes tops.” I said. “Round trip is forty. How about an hour?” Jake asked. “Deal.” I said, making my way towards the exit. “Let’s go! We’re wasting time!” I yelled before hearing footsteps rushed behind me.

I sat in the front seat for the ride, watching our surroundings around us fly by. Once we got to the house I had Jake unlock the door and as soon as I walked in, I was hit with intense emotions. I could see his eagles blanket draped across the couch, his boots were by the front door, pictures of him were everywhere. But the thing that got me the most? The house faintly smelled like him. I stood stock still in the doorway, more tears flooding my cheeks. “Oh, Caila.” Phoenix said, tossing her arms around me as I cried. She held me for a minute before stepping back and wiping my eyes. “Let’s get you in the shower.” I nodded and slowly made my way upstairs, Phoenix behind me so I wouldn’t stop. I walked into the bedroom, keeping my head down and not looking at the bed or anything else until I got to the dresser. I pulled out some yoga pants, and one of his t-shirts before I rushed into the bathroom. “Suitcases are in the top of the closet, pack anything comfy.” I said before slamming the door and locking it. I quickly stripped and got into the shower. I watched as the blood washed down the drain, the water running red as it did. The water muffled my cries and once I was done I felt better physically but my stomach was still twisting with nerves.

I quickly braided my wet hair and got dressed before grabbing our toiletries and stepping out. Phoenix had just tossed a pair of socks in my bag before taking my toiletries and zipping the bag. “Fastest shower of your life?” Jake asked and I nodded. “Let me let the dogs out one last time.” “Oh, we already did it.” Jake said and I nodded. “Thank you guys. It really means a lot to me that you’re helping.” They nodded as Phoenix hugged me. “We wouldn’t be anywhere else. Let’s go.” She said and I grabbed my bag as Jake grabbed Bradleys and we went downstairs. My emotions flooded me again as Dahlia rushed over, cries escaping her as she nudged me with her nose. “I know big girl.” I said, squatting down to her level. “It’s all confusing.” I said as Sadie rushed over, her tiny feet moving as fast as possible before she propped them on my knee and my hand fell to her back, scratching it. “I’ll be back in a few hours to feed you breakfast.” I said, kissing Dahlia’s face. I stood, grabbing my keys from the table by the stairs. “Do one of you mind driving my car?” I asked and that’s when I realized my license and cards were in Rooster’s wallet. “I’ll drive.” Phoenix said and I nodded before standing. I turned on a lamp so the dogs weren’t completely in the dark and followed them to the door before stopping. I spotted some pictures on the mantle and walked over, looking over them all. Some were the team, others were my parents and his. But I reached out, fingers wrapping around the frame that held an engagement picture. Mom snapped it just after he proposed. Bradley was holding me close, his hand wrapped around my left and held it to his chest as his forehead rested on mine, our eyes locked on each others. I held the picture close before grabbing my bag and walking out the door.

We put the bags in the back of the jeep and Phoenix drove us back to the hospital as I stared at the picture, tears streaming down my cheeks before clutching it to my chest. Phoenix held me free hand on the console, squeezing every so often as an occasional sob escaped me. "I'll park, you go in." She said as we arrived and I nodded. She pulled up by the ER doors and I got out, leaving the picture in the car and rushing in. "Any update?" I asked as I got closer and everyone shook their heads. "Nothing yet." Coyote said and I Coyote responded and a deep sigh escaped me. “I can’t handle this.” I said, falling into a seat between Bob and Maverick. Bob tossed his arm over my shoulder and pulled my head into his shoulder. Hangman and Phoenix walked in hand in hand, asking the same question I did and got the same response. “You left this in the jeep, thought you might want it.” Phoenix handed me the photo frame, and I stared at it as I took it from her. “When was that taken?” Bob asked. “Just after he proposed. Mom took a few pictures and had them framed. She gave it to me the last time she was in town.” He nodded, looking at the photo. “I like it. You guys look so happy.” He said and he sent me into more sobs. “Oh, Caila. I-” I waved him off, choking out an ‘it’s okay’. We sat there, waiting in trepidation and after an hour my phone rang. “Hello?” I jumped, answering before the first ring finished. “Miss Motley? I’m Dr. Crouthers, I’m your fiance’s head surgeon.” I nodded. “Yes?” He sighed. “There was more damage than we anticipated.” I shook as everyone gathered around, listening as I put the phone on speaker. “We knew his lung collapsed, but we also found the bullet nicked his descending aorta, which is the large artery that carries blood to his lower extremities. It’s a miracle he even survived till the ambulance got there.” A sob escaped me as Phoenix wrapped her arms around me. “It’s going to be at least another hour before we’re finished. If anything happens we’ll call you back. Once we’re done we’re going to move him into the CVICU and he will have an endotracheal tube to help him breathe.” I nodded. “Thank you doctor.” We said goodbye and he hung up.

“Oh god.” I cried, burying my face in my hands. Phoenix came around my chair, bending down in front of me and holding me. I was inconsolable up to the point I made myself sick. “Move!” I yelled, jumping up and rushing into the bathrooms. I managed to throw myself into a stall before vomiting as tears fell down my face. "Caila. Oh god." Phoenix said, crouching down behind me and laying her hand on my back. She rubbed my back until I was finished and when I sat up she pulled me into her. "What if I lose him?" I asked, my hand fisting her shirt. "We'll be here to help you." I gasped, fighting back a sob as she held me. "But I know he's doing everything possible to not leave you here." She said. We eventually went back out to the waiting area and just sat. I went back and forth between staring at the picture, leaning on Bob or Mav and pacing. After the first hour of waiting the tears started and didn’t stop. I paced and paced, hugging myself as I occasionally looked at the doors that he disappeared behind. But finally, hope sparked in me as a male doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze. “Miss Motley?” He asked, walking closer but stopped suddenly as everyone else jumped up and crowded me. “I’m going to assume you’re all Miss Motley?” He joked, a small chuckled at the end. The fact he cracked a joke made me feel a little better. “How is he?” He smiled at me, nodding. “He’s doing good.” I could’ve fallen to the floor from the feeling of relief. “He has a chest tube in and he will for the duration of his stay here with us. He also has an endotracheal tube which will help him breathe.” I nodded. “So he’s going to be okay?” He pursed his lips. “He’s doing good now, but that can change on a dime. He’s in our cardiovascular ICU because I want a close watch on his descending aorta, one wrong move, one deep breath can pop a stitch and he will have to go back into surgery.”

I shuddered at the thought of seeing him rushed into an OR again. “He’s not in the clear. He’s teetering on the edge and it’s dangerous. But I’m holding out hope that he’ll have a smooth recovery.” I sighed, gripping Mav’s hand as I did. “When can we see him?” Mav asked. “Soon. They’re getting him set up in a room now, hooking him up to all the machines and everything. But when you see him, he will be asleep. We want to keep him under for about twenty four hours so that his body gets a jump on his healing. After that we’ll pull him off the medication, his body may keep him unconscious for a while and that’s okay. It may take a few days for him to come around but when he wakes up he may be in a lot of pain.” I nodded, feeling better with all the information he gave me. “I’ll send someone to come get you once he’s all set up in his room.” I nodded and he smiled before walking away. “Oh my god, he’s okay.” Mav said, pulling me into a bone crushing hug. I squeezed him back just as the rest of the team pulled us in for a hug. After a minute we all let go and I took a deep breath. “I know he’s not in the clear, but I’m just so relieved he made it through surgery.” I said and everyone nodded. “I knew he wouldn’t leave you here.” Jake said, tossing his arm over my shoulders. “You knew?” I raised a brow and he scoffed. “Have you seen the way the man acts around you? Whipped.” He said, imitating cracking a whip. I couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped me. “Well I appreciate you guys staying, but it’s three a.m. I’m sure y’all wanna go home and go to bed.” Everyone gave me confused looks. “I mean yeah, but none of us are going anywhere till we see him.” Payback said and everyone nodded, Rita wrapping her hands around his arm and leaning into him. “Yeah, I think we all wanna see him for ourselves before we go. Just make sure he’s really okay.” Fanboy said, a dejected look on his face.

With that we waited some more, but Hangman and Bob did grab mine and Rooster’s bags from the jeep. We sat and talked now that the anticipation was over and soon a nurse walked over. “Hi, are you Miss Motley?” She asked and I nodded, standing and grabbing her outstretched hand. “Yes.” She smiled at me. “I’m Macy. I’m Lieutenant Bradshaw’s nurse for the night.” She said, letting go of my hand. “How is he?” I asked. “He’s sound asleep in his bed. Everything seems normal but I will be right outside his room all night watching his monitor. Would you like to come up and see him?” “Yes!” I jumped and she gave me a small smile. “We can only allow two at a time but the others can wait in the waiting room and rotate out.” I nodded, reaching for my bag. “Will you be staying with him while he recovers?” I nodded. “I’ll make sure they have a chair ready for you.” I nodded and Jake grabbed my bag while Mav grabbed Bradley’s. Phoenix held my hand all the way up to the seventh floor, squeezing me as my nerves ate me alive. We arrived on the floor and she led us to the waiting room. “We can let two in, who wants to go first?” She asked and I looked back at Mav. He nodded, grabbing my hand. “They should go first.” Hangman said, resting a hand on my shoulder. She nodded and motioned us to follow her. Mav squeezed my hand as we walked through the doors and she led us around a circle hallway until we came up on a room with large sliding glass doors that were open. She walked in and I stopped, halting Mav as well. “What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to face me. “I’m scared.” It was a whisper, so quiet yet so loud I thought I might wake the other patients. “I”m right here, kid.” He said, pulling me into a hug. “No matter what, we’re all gonna be here.”

With that he gently pulled me towards the room and through the glass I could see him. He was lying in the bed, flat on his back. He hates sleeping on his back, he’s a side sleeper. Macy was messing with one of the machines that was next to his bed. “Can we go in?” I asked and Mav nodded, slowly walking inside with me in tow. I didn’t want to believe that it was my Bradley in the bed, barely clinging to life, but he wasn’t next to me so I had to believe it. “He’s under heavy sedation for at least twenty four hours. Hopefully when they take him off he can rest up and then wake up.” She said, turning to us. “What medication is he on?” I asked. “Propofol. Even when they stop the medication, it’ll have to run through his system.” I nodded. “I will be at the nurses station next to his door if you need me.” I nodded and she walked out. Once she was gone and closed the door Mav and I finally took a good long look at Rooster. “Damn.” Mav said, walking over to his left side and I sat in the recliner on his right side. “Oh, honey.” I sighed out, scared to touch him. Afraid that one touch would cause the machines to go off and send him right back into the OR. “What was someone doing with a sniper rifle and why would they want to kill Rooster?” He asked quietly. “I have a few ideas.” I said, sitting back in the plush recliner. “Aaron?” He asked and I nodded. “I don’t know how he’s doing this from prison. But if I ever see him, he’s going to wish I killed him years ago.” I said, fists clenched so tight my nails made crescent moons in my palm. Mav sighed, shaking his head. “That’s not you Magnolia.” I scoffed. “I spent five years with him after I met Bradley, to protect him, and now he’s attempted to kill him. After sending someone to kill me.” I huffed out. “I’m half tempted to break into the prison and kill him with my bare hands.” I spat out.

“Well right now, let’s focus on Bradley. He’s going to need us when he wakes up.” He said and I nodded, tears leaking out as I leaned forward. My hand laid next to his and my finger grazed the back of his hand. He was pale, more so than when he laid on the floor of the hard deck. My mind shot back to Penny who was crouched behind the bar. “Is Penny okay?” I asked. “She’s really shook up. The bullet flew into the pillar behind her and it was inches from her head.” A shiver ran up my spine. We almost lost Bradley, and we could’ve lost Penny in the same night. That was a horrifying thought. “Have you told your parents yet?” He asked and I shook my head. “No, I’ll do it when I go home to feed the dogs in a few hours. Then I’m coming right back here and sitting in this chair the rest of the day.” I said as a yawn escaped me. “Want me to come back when you go?” I nodded. “If you don’t mind. I won’t be gone long.” He nodded. “I don’t want to leave him.” Mav said, looking down at Bradley. “I feel like if I leave, something will happen.” He said, tears filling his eyes. “When his dad passed, I promised to take care of him and Carole. Then when she passed I promised her the same thing.” He sniffled, fighting the tears. I stood, moving around the bed and hugging him. “He wouldn’t want you to stay here and exhaust yourself. He’d want you at home, taking care of Penny and Amelia.” I said and he sighed, closing his eyes and allowing a few tears to streak his cheeks. “Go home uncle Mav. Get some rest, you’re gonna need it for the next few days.” He nodded, kissing my head before turning to Bradley. He slipped something from his pocket and slipped it on Bradley’s finger.

“What’s that?” I asked. “Goose’s naval academy ring. Carole gave it to me after he passed. I wanted to give it to Bradley for high school graduation, but we fell out just before and then he moved so I had no address to send it to.” He smiled down at the ring. “His parents would be so proud of him. Even though his mom did everything she could to keep him out of the navy.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?” He nodded. “Don’t tell him. But his mom asked me to pull his papers on her deathbed. I didn’t want to but she begged me, got out of her bed and everything and pleaded with me.” My heart broke. Carole wanted to keep Bradley from possibly suffering the same fate as his father & Mav took the fall for it. "It ruined my relationship with him but I couldn't tell her no. I should've known he'd join anyway, without going to the academy." He said. "Why did you let him think you were the one who wanted to pull them?" He chuckled. "I couldn't let him be angry with her or grow to resent her. Besides Goose, Bradley was the best thing that happened to her and he had so much love and respect for his mom. I couldn't ruin that." Tears fell down his face and I sighed, squeezing him. "Go get some rest Mav." I said and this time he nodded, hugging me back before walking out. With that, I sat back down in the chair, finally working up the nerve to grab his hand.

I sat in silence for a few minutes before Phoenix came in. A quiet gasp escaped her and she froze in the doorway as tears spilled down her face. I think this is the first time I've seen her cry since it happened. She didn't move so I waved her over. "Come here." I whispered and after a minute, she moved. She came over to me, sitting on the arm of the chair, her arm draping over my shoulders. "How are you holding up?" She asked and I took a deep breath. "This is the first time I've been able to touch him. I'm afraid one wrong move and I'll hurt him." She nodded and leaned on me. "It's so scary to see him like this." She said and I nodded. "He's usually the strong one." I said. "During my first deployment with him my brother was hurt at work. A steel beam crushed his leg and they weren't sure if he was gonna lose his leg, let alone survive. I wasn't allowed to leave and Rooster just let me cry on him. We hardly knew each other at the time and he just let me cry.” She said, a few tears dripping onto my hair as she rested her head on mine. “He doesn’t really ask for help. He’s always taking care of me.” I said and Phoenix nodded. “Except those two times he’s been sick.” She said and I chuckled. “Even when he doesn't feel the best he doesn't complain. But he was bad off those two times. That pneumonia really scared me.”

We talked for a few more minutes until she left and sent Hangman in. He set our bags down under the window before engulfing me in a hug. “He’s gonna be okay.” He said. I really hoped he was right. We talked for a while before everyone rotated out. When Bob came in he brought me a water, smiling at me before he sat and talked with me. Bob stayed until Mav came back a few hours later to sit with Bradley so I could go feed the dogs. “I won’t be long, I promise.” I said but he waved me off. “Take all the time you need.” He said, but I didn’t want to stay away long. Bob walked me out to my jeep and I got in, driving off to the house. It was a silent drive. No radio, windows up, no air on. As silent as I could make it, thoughts of Rooster flooding my mind. The dogs were very confused when I once again came home without Rooster, but ate their food normally. I let them out for a while and went upstairs to grab a few extra things. I stole one of Rooster’s sweatshirts, I grabbed his favorite pair of sweatpants for him, and his toothbrush, seeing as I forgot it earlier. As I walked out of the bathroom I saw the teddy bear I got for Rooster’s birthday sitting on the dresser, next to the bowl that held my jewelry. I debated but ultimately grabbed Mr. Snuffles and took him downstairs before snatching Rooster’s Eagles blanket from the back of the couch. I brought the dogs in and left them with a few kisses and I promise to be back in a few hours to let them out.

When I got back to the hospital I carried everything in and when I walked in I saw Mav, Penny, Amelia and a new nurse. “You’re back.” Mav said and I nodded. “I couldn’t stand to be gone much longer.” I said and Mav stood from the chair, allowing me to set the blanket down in it. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the bear in my hands. “Mr. Snuffles.” I said, handing it to Mav. “Bradley carried this thing everywhere.” He said and I nodded. “Squeeze his paw.” I said and as he did it, he immediately broke down into tears. Penny rubbed his back as Mav held the bear close. “How did you get an old voicemail?” He asked once he calmed down. “I called almost every phone service in Virginia. I had to fill out some paperwork but then I got into the database and found this one.” He smiled at me before the nurse caught my attention. “Hi, I’m Gracie. I’ll be his nurse for the day.” She said with a soft smile. “Caila.” She nodded. “Well everything looks good so far. If he keeps making progress like this we should be able to take him off his medication tonight.” She said and I smiled. “That’s good to hear.” I said. “I’ll be back in a little while to check-in. Have you had breakfast yet?” I opened my mouth but Penny spoke up. “We brought you some breakfast.” I turned and she held up a bag. “Made some breakfast burritos.” She said with a smile. “I’m fine for now, thank you.” In truth, I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to eat. “Very well. I’m right outside if you need me.” She said and walked out. “How are you?” I asked as I pulled Penny into a hug. “Still shaken but I’m okay.” She said. “Good.” I sat in the chair, looking over at Bradley. “Do you need me to come back later?” Mav asked and I sighed. “If you don’t mind? I’ll need to let the dogs out around noon and then go back to feed them dinner.”

“I can feed them.” Amelia said and I turned to her. “You don’t have to Amelia.” I said and she shook her head. “I don’t mind. Plus it’ll be quiet at your house so I can get a lot of studying done.” She said. “If it’s okay with Penny.” I said and glanced to the older woman. “Please mom. Karen lives up the street from her house, so I can even go after school during the week. I can stay there till you get done at the bar and study!” She suggested and Penny sighed. “Okay.” She agreed. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge or pantry.” I suggested. “It’ll keep everything from going to waste.” I said and she nodded. They stayed for a while before eventually leaving. I still hadn’t eaten the food Penny left for me. My appetite was non-existent. I scooted the chair closer to the bed so I could sit back and still hold his hand. I eventually turned on the tv, not able to take the silence anymore and sat back, the eagles blanket draped over my legs. I occasionally glanced over to him, hoping by some miracle he would just wake up and say ‘I’m fine.’ But I knew better. As I looked back to the tv Mr. Snuffles caught my eye and I picked him up, tucking him under Rooster’s other arm. I also grabbed the picture of us that I brought and set it on the table next to his bed. I stared at it as I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand, hoping my touch would keep him here. “I know that it’s selfish. I know that. I don’t know if you can hear me or not. Maybe you're seeing your parents or something. You know how people say they have these experiences on the brink of death. I know if you are with them, talking to them, maybe even touching them you may want to stay. But please, don’t leave me. Not like this.” I cried, leaning over to the bed, now holding his hand with both of mine. “It’s selfish. But I can’t give you up. I need you, Bradley.” I cried, laying my head on the bed next to his hand until I eventually cried myself to sleep.

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Taglist: @mak-32 @rosiahills22 @fanboyswhore9 @kmc1989 @sunderland-6 @mygyn

#i hope you dance #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #top gun bob #phoenix #natasha trace #pete maverick mitchell

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himbos-hotline · 1 year

Note

[WARMTH] Person A gets cold during the night, and joins Person B in bed, for Hangman/Kenny?

I find myself alone at night [Unless I'm having sex]

Word count: 2151 words Ship: Kenny Omega/ "Hangman" Adam Page Characters: Kenny Omega, "Hangman" Adam Page, Mentioned: Matt & Nick Jackson Triggers: hook ups, no aftercare, one sided emotions, mentions of hangman being drunk/drinking Authors note: I did turn this soft request angry and hurty. No I dont know how I did it either. I somehow turned a happy fluff prompt into a look at hangman and kenny being fuckbuddies/just there for a quick fuck. However hangman has feelings about it and the feelings are "maybe I am in love with Kenny Omega…oh no."

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Whenever Kenny turns up on his hotel doorstep, Adam likes to think that he got cold sleeping alone in his own bed. That something has happened floors above him under the light of the moon and Kenny’s first fault is to see Hangman. To find him and wrap his arms snuggly around the nape of his neck, dropping clothes as he uses his foot to slam Hangman’s door closed. Adam lets his mind wonder while Kenny stands in his shower. He pictures Nick curled up under a blanket, mumbling loud enough that Kenny cuts him a tired glare as he listens to Matt snore blissfully away, used to his little brother talking to someone in his dreams. Or sometimes Adam’s sleep-deprived mind pictures Matt and Kenny arguing under the rising moon, hands flailing and eyebrows pressing together until dark shadows cover their eyes. But every fantasy ends the same way, with Kenny leaving the hotel room and somehow hunting out Hangman like there's a force dragging them together.

Adam finds himself laughing at that thought. Some kind of invisible string tying two people together, tugging them closer and closer until it finally lays between their tangled legs sounds like something written into a horrible romance novel he remembers Matt reading on the beach years ago. He doesn’t think love is something that is predetermined; by people or the universe or fate's cruel hand. Adam just thinks love exists. Love is something that’s found in children's laughter and the first leaves falling in fall. Love surrounds him and it's something visible; he holds love between his hands everyday and sometimes it’s soft and malleable between his fingers, warm to touch as he cradles it close and other times it comes with a broken phone screen and the distant smell of whiskey that burns his eyes. Love is a flower blooming on a cactus, the endless glow of a raging fire.

There’s laughter outside his hotel room door; two voices soaring together in joy and Adam rolls over to stare at the hardwood. He pictures a couple dancing through the corridor, euphoria making their footfall messy and laughter bloom in their creased eyes. He imagines happiness and love fizzling between them as they stare at one another, hands fumbling to find the keycard hidden at the bottom of a bag or tossed into a wallet. The laughter dies away like the changing of tides and with it goes Hangman’s fantasy. He rolls over and buries his face into the pillows. Letting the mattress curve around his sore chest, his aching knee. It comforts him and laying on his stomach, Adam slowly starts to drift off.

Someone knocks on his door an hour later, hand heavy against the doorframe and Adam debates ignoring it. He rolls over slightly, wiping drool off the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and presses his face snugly into the pillows. He’s right there, he’s nearly asleep but the knocking gets more insistent. More annoying and after dragging the pillow over his ears, Adam gives up. He squirms out from the blankets, letting them hang off the end of the bed and tries to scramble on a shirt without walking into a wall. He takes a brief glance over at the bedside table, wondering if he should go back for his glasses but the person behind the door knocks again and Adam almost feels his brain snap in half.

“Okay, okay. What. what dya-” The door clicks open and reveals Kenny little by little, moonlight skating in from the open blinds so it almost looks like Kenny’s glowing when Adam pulls the door open fully; mouth half open and eyebrows tugging down in apology. “Kenny?” Adam feels a smile toying with the corner of his lips, they barely twitch up when Kenny looks at him, cradling a blanket close to his chest.

For a few seconds, Kenny blinks in the gray moonlight; skin sparkling as the moon kisses the dents at the corner of his eyes, the fluttering of his eyelashes as he blinks heavily up at Adam. “Hi.” Even his voice shines under the stars, the chords of his words sounding like piano song at a wedding, a soft tune that wraps around Adam’s heart like a noose. Kenny’s eyes flit around Adam’s open shirt, sleep tousled curls that tumble across his eyes like a halo slipping down an angel's face. “Did I wake you up?” He asks and he smiles.

Kenny smiles at Adam in the dopey way he had smiled at Matt as he pressed his face against the glass of an aquarium. He smiles at Adam like there's something there, the same magnetic pull that always drags them back to one another. Kenny smiles wider when Adam badly represses a yawn, his nose wrinkling with effort. Adam raises his eyebrows at Kenny’s open mouthed grin, fingers gripping at the blanket hanging over his forearms and he shrugs. “You should go back to bed.”

“Can’t y’here.” Adam half teases, letting Kenny step into the hotel room. There’s a few clothes scattered around the carpeted floor and for a few seconds, Adam feels his chest flush with embarrassment. He smooths down the soft fabric, twirling a stray strand around his fingers when Kenny drops the towel onto the small couch and wraps his hands around Adam’s.

They’ve done this before. This is a dance they know the steps off. Kenny wraps his arms around Adam’s neck, letting him tilt his forehead down against his. They stare into each other's eyes and Adam, for a few seconds, believes that Kenny isn’t only looking at his reflection. They share each other's breaths, still half-stained with minty toothpaste and stale whiskey before Kenny pitches forwards, desperate to taste himself on Adam’s lips.

They kiss for what feels like a lifetime, tongues brushing against the insides of each other's mouths and teeth tugging at the sensitive skin of each other's bottom lip. Kenny breathes heavily into Adam’s mouth and taps at his chest, signaling to pull away. And Adam does because he wants to look at Kenny, cheeks red and chest heaving in the midnight moonlight. The glow makes his wide pupils sparkle like an endless galaxy that Adam has the glorious pleasure to explode.

“Cmon-” Kenny whimpers as Hangman kisses him softer this time, puffed up lips tingling as he nips at the stubble on Kenny’s cheeks. Adam rubs his face against Kenny’s jaw, fingers toying with the hair fuzzing up on his neck. He thinks Kenny looks beautiful, half flushed and needy and wanting. He wants Adam. He comes to Adam whenever he feels like this and Maybe that’s the love that Adam was thinking about before.

Maybe love for him is beard-rashed cheeks and another man's spit running off the corner of his lips. He’s breathing in life from Kenny and maybe that’s love.

Maybe.

Or maybe it’s lust that spurs Kenny forwards, pushing Hangman down into the mattress with his hips, pushing his dick that's still contained in his jeans, against Hangman’s and the friction is enough to make Adam feel somewhat possessive. He knows the rules, he knows that he can’t dig his nails into Kenny’s shoulders or scatter his heaving chest with hickeys because people will ask questions. People will get upset. People who know Kenny more than Adam does will get upset or jealous that Kenny has another person.

People that Kenny loves, wholly and truly, will know that he’s crawled back to Adam and look at him like he’s something disgusting. People will judge Kenny by the marks and the bites, not by the heaven that lays in his eyes.

A heaven that Adam gets to experience as he rolls Kenny onto his back and presses kisses against Kenny’s tanned abs, smirking as he giggles under his lips. Adam can't help but laugh at Kenny’s pokemon boxers and he smoothes a hand across his stomach when his eyes flash with unease. “I’ve got you baby.” Adam whispers, kneeling between Kenny’s legs, hands rubbing drying lumps of muscle rub into painful muscles.

Kenny nods up at him and raises his hips. It’s the only help Adam needs as he scatters Kenny’s hips with kisses, listening to the needy little sighs that tumble out of Kenny’s puffed lips. He looks so gorgeous when he’s ruined and in Adam’s mind he takes a picture, a safe memory that’s only his. He fishes around his back for lube, one hand still pitched on Kenny’s hip.

It feels like his skin is melting into the bone, soldering the two of them together. Adam distantly thinks about the invisible string and pictures it tangling around Kenny’s legs as he drizzles lube across his fingers, smearing it across Kenny until Adam feels ready to slide his fingers in. Kenny opens quickly, spurred on by the little jumps of his hips and Adam presses proud kisses to his neck. “Proud of you baby. Doing so well.” His own voice feels ruined despite not taking Kenny in his mouth.

There’s a slight click as Kenny spreads his legs further apart, raising one to sit on Hangman's hip and again, Adam thinks this is love. It’s only for a few seconds until Kenny tugs him forwards by his hair and Adam whimpers, finally lubing himself up and sliding into him. The sound Kenny makes is almost pornographic and Adam tries to capture it on his tongue. He misses it slightly, catching the tail end of it from the corner of Kenny’s open mouth.

They stay together like that for a few seconds, bodies trembling together with want, Kenny’s neglected cock leaking pre-cum onto his stomach until Adam can’t help it. He lets himself shift forward, watching everything fall away off Kenny’s face. It’s like a rockfall or a fresh blanket of snow; beautiful to glance at, dangerous to stare at. Kenny tugs against his hair, knocking their foreheads together and Adam manages a messy nod, huffing into his skin.

The pain in Adam’s scalp keeps pushing him forwards, thrusting in and out of Kenny as he tucks his red face away into Adam’s neck. He’s making him do all the work; back arching so Adam fills him more. He whimpers and moans into Adam's sweaty skin, kissing the last remainders of sleep from the marrow of Adam’s bones. His lips carve Kenny’s name into Adam’s chest; he can almost picture the curvy letters chipped into his sternum and around his ribs; surrounding his heart until even his heartbeat is calling Kenny’s name. He shakes his head, uses his free hand to shift Kenny’s jaw ever so slightly and soon the jutt of his chin is pressing into Adam’s throat and the soaring feeling makes his head spin.

“Close baby.” Adam gasps out in the space between his lips and that's when Kenny starts squirming. The touch is starting to burn, like Icraus touching the sun. Kenny starts to burn and set himself on fire and Adam pulls away, letting Kenny’s legs drop from around his hips. He isn’t going to be the reason Kenny tries to hunt for himself in the ashes of his own existence. Adam just looks down at him, blinking and waiting for Kenny to calm down. “Dya want me to touch you?”

“Ye-” Kenny breaks himself off with a gasp, his shoulders dropping into the mattress as Adam’s hand jerks Kenny slowly, trying to savor the feeling of his eyes on him. Kenny is actually looking at him, eyes half open and rolling around his skull. He watches as Kenny’s face screws up and warmth splatters over Adam’s knuckles and it feels like the ending scene in a movie.

They don’t cuddle after Kenny’s finished and licked Adam’s hands clean. He wobbles his way towards the connected bathroom and Adam lays on the clean side of the mattress, fingertips brushing across the stray warmth as Kenny washes him away. The moon shifts behind a cloud, plunging the small hotel room into darkness and Adam is almost appreciative of the darkness because nothingness can’t catch the tears growing behind his closed eyelids. He hears the water shut off, the pipes gurgling as they empty and the bathroom door highlights the messy blanket laying discarded onto the floor.

In the darkness, Adam pretends to be asleep and Kenny tiptoes past the bed. He gathers his clothes in the darkness and stares down at Adam’s naked frame. Adam doesn’t expect anything from Kenny after they’re finished but when he drapes the blanket across his hips, his heart bounces in his chest. The bathroom door clicks off, the hotel room door opens and snaps shut and in the darkness Adam is alone again, running his fingers across the fading warmth.

The next day, Adam watches Kenny from afar; praying for the next day he’s too cold to sleep alone.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

@smallestsnarkestgirl @skyqueen3 @josiewrites @itsnoosetome @jacedoe

@golden-disaster @sincyrlee @glitchaxolol @daddywrasslin @bikenny

@katries @thegizardofmars @motorcitygem @miru-has-thoughts @powderflower

@miserablecreachur @afterdarkprincess @mobiblackout @pinksuperkliq @harvey-dent

@thekadster

#kenny omega #hangman adam page #hangmega #all elite wrestling #aew fanfic #mouse writes

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thefreelanceangel · 1 year

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FFXIVWrite2023 (#8 - Shed)

For all that Chessi devoutly believed herself to be stupid, she'd learned fairly quickly to just... not reminisce about her life before she'd met the Kyhos. From that point onward, she'd gained friends, even a family, and so chatting gaily about how happy she'd be to see Narasen and Voranoix again, how she wondered if Noix'a'd grown any... That came under the "does not make anyone upset" category of conversation.

Anything prior to that... well...

Sezra would get that look on his face, the one that Chessi considered "bad", and while he didn't hurt her when it arrived, he also didn't smile or laugh or do any of the things Chessi associated with "happy." She didn't like that particular angle of his violet-furred ears, that tense line of his shoulders, the way his tail would stiffen.

And as she didn't like it, he didn't like it, she simply... didn't discuss those years. Even on nights when she felt particularly warm towards moments from her childhood, Chessi couldn't be certain that what she disclosed would be met with a smile, a stern face, or that look.

Listening to the soft choir of 'peep, peep' drifting up from the water, Chessi smiled to herself. She never felt more at home, more settled in her place in the world, in her heart, than when she heard the soft sounds of nearby frogs.

It'd been her lullaby, soothing her to sleep as she curled up in the small hollow in the earth that'd served as her bed, out in what Uncle Les called 'her shed' in the back yard. With the gapping between the boards forming the small structure, she'd been able to see moonlight on water, the little ripples caused by a frog plunking from one lily pad to the next, the dance of shadows when a breeze kicked up to play with the cattails.

She'd loved that shed, *her* shed. While she'd always shivered her way through the winter and early spring, Chessi'd found it fairly comfortable for the rest of the year. She could stand up in it, spread her arms out and lay her palms flat on the walls. The earthen floor let her dig out a hollow that just fit her body perfectly, another to cradle her rear when she sat, little hollows to hold her few possessions. And there'd even been a narrow shelf on the back wall where she could set the pretty pieces of broken glass Les gave her when something went wrong with the bottles.

For years, she'd known no other home.

Chessi recalled every whorl and knot in the boards she'd gazed through while settling down to sleep. One she'd called her sleep friend, as it looked like a smiling face in the wood, and she'd even managed to sand that part of the wood smooth with scraps of sandpaper she'd gotten from the Carpenters' Guild.

Part of her nightly routine when not traveling to deliver Les' liquor had involved rubbing her sleep friend with a fingertip before kissing it good night.

And while the ramshackle building let in rain, snow, and wind, it'd also let in moonlight, sunlight, the sweet scent of wildflowers, the song of birds, and her very favorite, the happy chatter of frogs in the pond below.

She didn't often wonder about the shed anymore. Now that she had a home--with her own bedroom and a whole bed!--and parents, a sibling--and maybe even more one day, Narasen had said!!--Chessi didn't miss what scant comforts she'd once clung to.

And with Sezra's arm across her, the warmth and weight of her friend pressing against her back, his breath stirring her hair, Chessi couldn't say she felt any lack in her life at all any longer.

...but she wondered, now and then, about the shed. Her shed. All those years it'd been her home, her haven, her shelter from Les' temper, from people who laughed at her or threw things. Those four crooked walls, for so long, meant safety and comfort.

Did it still stand? Voranoix'd said that when Les went missing--she now finally believed he'd passed away, leaving her with no blood relatives as he'd always threatened to--the property defaulted to ownership of the Gridania city-state. Someone likely bought it, a good bargain, too.

As Chessi adjusted the pillow under her head, angling herself a bit to peer out into the La Noscean night, she hoped that the property went to a bustling family with a dozen kids who'd play in the pond, chase the frogs, and perhaps even hide in the shed when their parents called them in to take a bath.

She'd loved it for so long, she hoped someone else had a chance to love it, too.

#Chessi Eder #FFXIVWrite2023 #Yes she did live in a ramshackle shed in her uncle's back yard for most of her life #Yes Les was very much an abusive asshole (which is why her adopted daddy Voranoix killed him ^^)#but Chessi looks at everything through rose-tinted glasses #and she was genuinely proud of her shed

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tragicalwisteria · 1 year

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summer: an introspection through a cracked glass

Summertime rolls around dutifully once more, as it has year after year, with its hazy airs and graces, the soft buzzing of insects floating lazily amidst the opaque air; the warmth of the sun beating against stubborn weeds. Sleep-sunken eyes such as our own nestle amongst them, shifting listlessly over meaningless (or so you say) words printed over a page- a page freckled with the shadows of leaves of a grand, lone, tree, cast by the sun from its throne, high up in the blue sky. The faint taste of lemonade hangs around my mouth, sweet as the words that fall from your lips as you carelessly relate to me the mindless happenings of your life, worlds apart from my own. You dream of dizzying glamour of happiness, of freedom, of opportunity- the spirit, the promise of the unknown. Stupid, you ought to have known such wonders were not made for you and I. A faint, flowery smell dances in the air around us, soft and sweet, as it should be. Summer ushers in the hope of endless beauty, endless passion, vitality beyond expression.

Summer heralds the death of my purpose, the anticipation of new horrors and the slow, trickling dread of new beginnings. We run through the night, fingers sticky with stolen sweets, upturned mouths sticky with traces of stolen kisses, whispers of the most awful insincerity, impermanent, forgotten under the hush of the deep purple clouds, twinkling stars and the sky’s tears falling heavy on our faces, mimicking the ones already rushing down my face. The summer night stands still, its significance washing over me with the devastating overwhelm of realisation; the steady turning of the days, weeks, months, years would inevitably steal this moment from me yet. You laugh, clear and delighted, the bittersweet agony in my visage is unapparent, lost in the nebulous expanse of the hot night. You have no trouble seeing the beauty within the broken, your shallow mind doesn’t hinder your perception of your surroundings. Summer reveals, to some, the glittering embers of the heart, the ghastly truth within.

Summer marks the beginning of a golden dream of whims and fancies, an irrevocable vow of forgetfulness and joy. My muddled thoughts fail to differentiate hope from futile longing, especially in the orange glow of the dying sun. The waves slide over the shore, leaving a filmy spume over the sand. I stare at the horizon, watching as colours disappear, toppling out of sight over the edge- their likes never to be seen again. Small pebbles tickle the soles of my feet. It’s about the little things like these. The salty wind on my face, your curly hair blowing in all directions. I call out to the voices in my head, a desperate prayer, hoping, wishing, begging for my innocence back, the blithe sparkle in my eye, the feeling of pure, unbridled, joy. The lemonade had swiftly turned stale, the taste sickly on my tongue. ‘Enough, enough!’ I longed to declare, enough of this infinite dreamscape, enough of the reminders of the life I could have lived had I not been born subdued under a mist of fear and apathy. Summer symbolises the endless possibilities of what once could have been, and the bitter poignancy of knowing it never will.

Summer hides the lingering disquietude of want- the feeling of uselessness colours the dusky skies a dull, dead grey, strips me of myself, my purpose. Those dreams of perfection, desires of an epiphany to bring me to my senses are dashed unceremoniously to a cold, slate ground. The words are dragged out of me by some unimaginable force, spilling out like gushing blood from an irremediable wound. Worries, supposed to be lost in the delicate cradle of warmth, lurk at every corner, a reminder of all that is to come. Summer ought to feel happier than this.

A sudden chill passes over me. Nothing lasts forever- not love, not hate and certainly not this.

#she writes!#barely #thoughts #write write write #i haven't used that tag in a long time:|#summer #rather depressing really #writeblr

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wrenjacobswrites · 1 year

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A Room of Broken Glass

Fandom: Andor

Ship: Syril/Dedra

Summary: He was lost, and she was the only one who could find him.

* Notes: a one shot about everyone’s favorite space fascists. It takes place after Syril saved Dedra on Ferrix. Now, I’ve heard people say that Dedra was suffering from a concussion so this would be dubcon/noncon if that were true but the only source they had was “my dad is a EMT.” So, for the purposes of this fanfic Dedra is totally clear and aware of what’s occurring and she enjoys it. So does Syril.

Yes, this fandom is old tea at this point but I just got a Disney Plus subscription so I’m having a Marvel/Star Wars party.

If love is a room

of broken glass, leave me to dance

until my feet are memory.

if love is a hole wide enough

to be God’s mouth, let me plunge

into that holy dark & forget

the color of light

—“Bare” by Danez Smith

The sun rises in her irises like it does over an ocean—all sapphire blue with a sprinkling of gold cradled in them. In their depths lies a coldness and a question: How could someone so disgusting, so lowly dare to touch her? Syril doesn’t have an answer. He just breathes in the scent of jasmine like it’s the last breath of air before he is pulled under into the deep.

There was a crinkle of skin between her dark eyebrows as her gaze travels from his hand locked around her elbow to meet his eyes again. She searches them and he doesn’t know what she finds there, but her pupils expand until there is a black hole in the middle of her thin iris.

“I can have you arrested. You are aware of that?” Dedra asks. Cassian Andor. Yes, that’s why he’s here. In his idolatry of her, he’d almost forgotten. The criminal’s black name pains like a nail through a hand but it flinches and fades a little in her wake, like a flame in the wind.

“I want what you want. I can sense it. I know it.” Syril says. His heart beats and he knows she could feel it too. He wants to be consumed by her, drowned by her. It was her he’d been searching for as he went through his life like a puzzle missing a piece. He once thought that becoming the best inspector ever would justify his existence in the galaxy, but he was made for her. Maybe he’s the piece to her puzzle as well. Nothing would delight him more, though, if looks could kill, his blood would be painting the concrete. She’s cold, beautiful, and deadly, like the breathless space.

“You’re out of your mind. I’ve already given you a second chance. You come near me again, you pursue any of this, and I swear I’ll have you in a cage in the Outer Rim.” Dedra says before walking away, the click of her heels on the stone keeps him awake at night.

* Dedra is shaking, her lips quivering as she watches him with wild, wide eyes. Her quick, panicked breaths hurt his ears. Her clothes wrinkled, her pale hair messy—he’d pulled her away from the gnashing vermin on Ferrix, the same chaos that bred Andor threatening to swallow her whole, but today she will not be eaten. Her eyes shimmered in the dark, her fingers grasping at him as if she’s afraid she’ll be pulled back into the mob if she lets him go. He’ll never let her go. Just holding her is his dreams of justice and beauty in the galaxy made flesh. She made life worth living. Dedra.

“I should…I should say thank you.” Dedra says, her voice wobbly.

“You don’t have to.” Just let me bathe in your light. He doesn’t say. He just watches the porcelain of her skin shining in the shadow wet hideaway, the gold freckled in her irises from the sun leaking through the cracks as she shakily presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. He freezes like her kiss had turned him into stone and she flung herself backwards as of his mouth had burned her. The only touch he’d ever gotten from a woman was his mother’s fingers running through his hair.

Dedra looks as if she would flee back into the ragged hoard. They have something here, too fragile to name but strong enough to compel him to place his hands on her shoulder to hold her still and press his lips against hers. The most wonderful thing happens when she parts her lips and clumsily forces their mouths together almost knocking him back. There was no practice behind the movement, just the all-consuming flame of something new, burning as bright as a star. He places his hand on the small of her back to keep her against himself before they part for air. Her eyes go wide before searching his eyes like she did galaxies away. Their irises don’t hold the same shade of blue, while he was colored a cloudless sky above Ferrix, hers spoke of the watery depths and deepest space.

His cheek is alive with dozens of pinpricks. Dedra had slapped him across the face. She pulls down her jacket before pointing at him, her face a rose pink. “D-don’t do that again.”

“Okay. I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to.” He says. I’ll hang on your every word like scripture. Preach everything from your doctrine. Rain fire and brimstone down on Ferrix for even daring to touch you.

Her gaze softens as if she’s heard his deepest thoughts, his silent vows. She inches toward him like an abused animal to her master, full of cautious affection, hoping this time he won’t hurt her. He’d rather cut off his hand. She takes off her right glove as slow as honey before her soft, warm fingers stroke his cheek. Her blush is dusted across her nose and cheeks like rose petals. He places his hand over hers on his face before she can snatch it back, keeping her against his cheekbones. Her fingers dig into the side of his face. He moves his own hand up to cup her satin cheek and she flinches as if she was expecting a slap. Her eyes light up as if she it was the first time she’d had awakened, her first time seeing, like she’d never been touched before—she should burn like an angel. His breath stutters as his face went wet and prickly, he’s probably redder than the desire he feels for her. She yanks her hand back and slaps his away.

“Is this locked? Are we safe?” She asks, pacing the short length of the room.

Syril goes to the door and turns the handle—bolted shut. No one’s getting in but more importantly, they’re not getting out. She’s locked in here with him, like a treasure. They’re lost to the universe. It shouldn’t please him as much as it does. He turns back to her.

“We’re safe for now.” Syril says. “We’ll stay in here until the street is cleared.”

Dedra nods and takes a deep breath, bracing herself as if she’s waiting for a punch. She watches him before going over to touch his face again, like she couldn’t get enough. He melts at the thought of her being addicted to him in the same way she lures him. Her fingers glide over his cheek bones, the tip of his nose before her index finger rests against his lips. He takes it into his mouth easily and sucks before letting up.

She gasps. Her eyes widen, she bites her bottom lip before speaking: “Again.” She demands in that imperial tone. That beautiful brush of pink stardust across her face was more noticeable and he wanted to tell her how beautiful it was, but she’d given him a command, so he swallowed her thin finger to the root and let his tongue play with it. Her slick mouth is open as she looks at him in open want. Has she ever been touched before? Does he dare be the first? He reaches out and runs his fingers up to her side and she stiffens but doesn’t pull away. He gets to her cheek, and she looks at him like he’d bite while he drags his thumb across her petal soft lips.

She pulls her finger from his mouth, and he closes the distance between them. He holds on to the front of her coat before sliding his hand down to her pants. She grips his wrist to stop him, watching him with the same crinkle of worry between her eyebrows.

“We can’t do this.” Dedra said.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Syril says calmly, even though everything he’d ever wanted stared at him deep blue, doe eyes.

Dedra took a breath before slowly shaking her head. Syril dipped his hand into her tight waist band. Her hands are still grasped around his wrist, but it was loose enough to let him stroke between her legs, the skin between her inner thighs was the softest thing he’s ever felt. She inhaled sharply as he grazed his finger up the damp underside of her underwear. Her eyes flutter closed. This is the farthest he’d ever gotten with a woman, and it felt right—like his whole life was leading up to this moment, it was almost as sweet as revenge. He slipped his hand in her underwear, but she squeezed his wrist.

“I’ve never…” Dedra begins, sounding so unsure, he isn’t used to that.

“Me either.” Syril admits. “I’d like to try, though. If you find me worthy.”

“Go slow.” Dedra says. Syril nodded before tucking his hand in her underwear and feeling her slick from want. He bit his bottom lip to keep his sounds of want in. This moment was like a bubble, the slightest pressure could break it and she’d awaken from their ephemeral Eden and flee back into the coldest space. He needed to be careful, keep her interest. He dips his finger inside her. She whimpers and his pants feel too tight as he hardens. She’s so tight, wet, and hot inside. He’s the first to ever touch her. He sinks into her until his finger was halfway inside. She hitches, her eyes clenched shut, her lips parted in quick pants. He moves deeper inside her as he pulls out, starting a syrupy slow pace. He continues until her face relaxes, her breathing turning into sighs. He presses his lips against hers, drinking in her sobs as he quickens his movements. She tasted like coffee with a hint of coppery blood, but it was as fine as wine in his mouth. He took his hand out of her pants gently. She watches him with a sort of hurt expression before he speaks.

“Please, take off your pants, Supervisor.”

Dedra nods before bending down to remove her boots. She sits them down nearly to her side as he unzipped his pants. She mirrors him, looking at him for guidance, like he was the one in charge. They step out of their pants; her underwear is tiny and white as she slipped them down her pale legs. Her mound was covered with hair dark enough to be black. She removes her jacket and now is only clad in a tight, black turtleneck. She folds her jacket and places it next to her boots. She was the picture of order and authority, even when her face was a cherry blossom. Her lips were slick. He went to her like the guiding star, and he was lost. He kissed her damp forehead. He inhaled the scent of jasmine and musk, intoxicating him. He slowly sank down to the floor and she does so as well. They’re in a shimmery-dark corner the sunlight didn’t touch, though it invades through the cracks.

Syril placed his arm around Dedra’s waist and tugs gently. Dedra ungracefully scrambles into his lap and steadies herself with her hands on his shoulders. Her thighs tremble as their most sensitive parts are pressed together. She was shaking like a little lamb, so he shushes her with a kiss against her lips.

He reaches down between his legs, the head against her slick entrance and he pushes in and oh, he didn’t know anything could feel this good. She’s so tight around him as he inches into her as he bottoms out, sighing Dedra—her name feels good on his lips, he’d be happy if all he could whisper was her that for the rest of his life. Her eyes were clenched shut and she was biting her bottom lip as she tried to get adjusted to him. He’ll wait all the time she needs.

Syril rubs circles into the strip of skin at the small of her back. He tries to keep himself from coming too fast. This was his first time as well and it felt like heaven to him. She watches him like he knew what he was doing, like he was the Shepard. He didn’t want to break that, her looking at him as if he’s the one in control, that he could teach her something, like she needs him. He presses his lips to her jugular, and she sighs.

Dedra took off his hat and placed it on the ground before threading her fingers into his hair carefully, holding his head as she kissed him again. She pulls back before he can deepen it, and holds him close, her chin on his shoulder, no space between them. He wrapped his arms around her waist before moving his hips up, knocking a gasp out of her. His rhythm is unsteady, slowly pushing in and pulling out of her, each move was punctuated with cry from her as she tangled her fingers in the back of his shirt.

Her body gripped him with a pleasure thick as honey, it felt like he’d gotten a taste of the universe and he needed more. He used his arm to clamp her even more tightly to himself as he picked up speed. She’d taken to mewling his name and he could die right here and go happy knowing how he’d made her feel. He bucks her up and she slides back down on him, they find a pattern that works, the sweet push and pull, her slickness audible, her moans filling up the room like smoke. He’s in awestruck silence in the wake of her. She meets his thrusts by pushing down. Syril seeks her mouth and drinks in the noises of her pain and pleasure.

She stills—coming onto him, shivering, her eyes clenched shut, her fingers turn to claws in his clothing, grasping him close. He takes her a little faster, rushing to release, wishing he was finishing at the same time as her until he spills inside her, holding her down and against his chest, smelling that warm jasmine that he’ll probably remember on his deathbed. They still, their breathing filling up their small piece of mechanical Paradiso. He could feel the exile coming on like an illness. Just a little more time. Please.

Dedra pulls back an inch and pets his jaw carefully, traces his cheekbones and rubs her index finger across his lips as if she were blind, as if she were trying to remember this moment, remember him, maybe she’s holding on as much as he is. If he could occupy even a fraction of her heart it would mean as much as the Empire. His love for her is like that, endless and undying.

Her smile rose upon her face like a sunrise—it was the first time he’d seen it. More beautiful that all the stars in the galaxy, than order, than anything. It made his knees weak. She pulls away, he gasps as he slides out of her—he’s cold. She stands, her legs shaking a bit as she dresses carefully, pulling on her thin, white underwear with a flinch of pain, slipping on her pants, straightening her clothes, buckling her jacket—she was untouchable again. Their gazes mixed but there is nothing to say. He dresses as well.

The door is pried open, sunlight stabs through the dark. He stands in front of her with his blaster drawn, but it was a trio of stormtroopers—Syril lay down his weapon as Dedra walked in front of him to face the men.

“Ma’am. Are you hurt?” Came the fuzzy voice of one of the stormtroopers. Dedra glanced over her shoulder at Syril before watching the soldiers in front of her.

“No. Is the situation contained?” Dedra asked.

“Yes. All agitators disposed of. We have some lined against the wall, waiting for your judgement.”

“Good. They will pay for this display of disobedience.” Dedra said. The men parted as the woman walked through them.

“And what about him?” One of the stormtroopers asked.

“This man saved my life.” She told them demurely. “See that he is rewarded for his service to the Empire before sending him on a transport back to Coruscant.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Syril took a breath before walking into the cold sunlight with the Stormtroopers. He has knives in his stomach as he watches her walk away from him, shimmering as if he were seeing her through a window wet with rain, but that could’ve been his tears.

Dedra stops and her shoulders drop as she takes a deep breath. His heart seizes when she glances over her shoulder at him. “Syril?”

“Yes?”

“If you do find out more about Cassian Andor, do not hesitate to contact me. I’ll give you the same courtesy if I should have such information.” Her lips were graced by a hint of a smile. He returned it—it was an invitation, the only way she could give it.

“Yes, Madam Supervisor.”

#syril x dedra #syril karn #dedra meero #Andor #Star Wars #writing #my writing

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charlenasaxen · 7 months

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Favorite Quotes - Queen of Hearts pt. 2

“He had murdered her beloved brother, Charles—once the infamous Mad Hatter—by throwing him out a window.”

“They knew Wardley, the love of her life, had promised to come for her”

“These trees of the Twisted Wood knew who drew the location of the stars night after night.”

“I will learn to survive, she thought. I will wait for Wardley and then we will find a boat and sail to the Other Worlds.”

“I will take Wardley here one day, she thought, if I can find it again.”

Several trunks twisted accusingly in her direction.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me.” She rested her now-bleeding hand against the raw wood, feeling the scars.

“Morte stepped back and let out a bellow. It was a deep, terrible sound, a war cry, and it chilled Dinah to the bone”

“Cradling the wet pelt in her arms, Dinah brought it before Morte”

“she absently had watched a red-striped otter flit in and out of a stream”

“The trees had converged in a thick canopy of flowering branches, interweaving with each other to create a solid tunnel of flowers”

“He was running because he could; from his mouth erupted happy whinnies. His body flowed like water”

“This time she was able to enjoy it—the world flying past, the greens and purples of the tunnel blending”

“I’m flying! she thought.

Daring to reach one hand above her head, she let her fingers trail the heads of thousands of fuchsia orchids”

“Charles’s body, lying broken on a stone slab. His beloved servants, Lucy and Quintrell, their throats”

“The sound of the trumpets blaring from the castle and the Cards who had swarmed out of it, so ready to kill their princess.”

“where one of the Heart Cards she had killed sat on a log, softly playing a lute, a cat lounging lazily on his shoulder.”

“Dinah hadn’t been allowed to touch her mother, or even to go near her bedside. She stood sobbing in the doorway”

“eyes finally trained on Dinah as she whispered her good-byes”

“Be gentle, my dear, take heart. Be a good queen. Take care of your brother.”

“I will. I love you. I love you.”

The hint of a smile brushed across Davianna’s face. “I love you too. . . .”

“bells were ringing throughout the kingdom, and the sound of them rose up through the courtyard”

“Long live the future Queen of Wonderland.” He placed the crown on her head, the heat of it scorching”

“Harris carried her out of the room, and as he turned, Dinah was given one last glance at her mother’s face, her beauty siphoned away by death”

“could see the fear in Harris’s eyes as the hot crown was laid on her head.”

“She watched silently as a fiery red hawk danced and dipped over the horizon, such a thing of beauty.”

“rays of sunlight shot through the tree, and suddenly it hummed with life, as if lit from inside”

“The house was one large circular room with a beautiful high-vaulted ceiling. At the front of the room sat a cold fireplace, cozied up to a sitting area”

“She said a silent thanks to whoever baked this bread and grew these onions”

“Broken jars of the amber tree syrup littered the ground around him. Dinah felt all the air rush out of her lungs”

“As he ran, the sun disappeared over the Yurkei Mountains and all was black”

“but she would not be taken to the Black Towers. She would force them to kill her, and she would try her best to kill her father.”

“That was her only purpose on this night; She would avenge her brother”

“Hide,” whispered a voice in the darkness. “If you want to live, don’t fight. Hide.”

“He killed Charles, she thought. And I will kill him now, a shadow in the darkness. Yes, my king, come ever closer.”

“pressed herself against his black coat, becoming invisible once more. Black on black, a shadow at midnight.”

“She dreamed of a deck of cards on a glass table, being played by a black glove”

“Hearts. Spades. Diamonds. The king. The king. The king.”

“It wasn’t my toy. It was for my brother.”

The Spade grimaced.

“No, yeh don’t. That handsome stable boy might have taught yeh a few things”

“Wardley?” At his mention, everything in the world seemed to stop. “What do you know about Wardley? Is he alive?”

“Ah, now yeh want to talk.”

“Dinah frowned. Morte would definitely not come if she whistled.”

“but what else could she do? She could no more stop breathing than turn away from knowing Wardley’s fate.”

“That was you. You told us to hide.”

“Aye. And if I hadn’t, yeh would be headless right now, since yeh were determined to fight an entire army.”

“to capture her—eh, you—dead or alive”

“The passion with which yeh had defended that silly wooden toy for yer brother had shown me that yeh could never do such a thing”

“a sword in yer hand, the cloak trailing behind yeh. I watched in awe”

“The execution of such a handsome young Card, one who was so well liked and potentially the next Knave of Hearts, would surely be frowned upon”

“Wardley, once the brightest star in Wonderland, would be mocked for the rest of his life, all because he had saved hers”

“as the beautiful twisting crown that Charles had made was lowered”

“I will never see the palace again.” Or Harris. Or the beautiful stained-glass heart”

“There are worse places to be laid to rest, she thought. At least I’m here under the stars”

“It was the hawk, the tracking hawk, its beautiful deep red feathers mottled”

let out a yell and hopped away. “Yeh bit me! Who bites someone?”

“This news broke Dinah’s heart, and afterward there wasn’t a day that she didn’t think of Harris’s kind face and soft hands.”

“now he was in pain. It was unforgivable”

“To her devastation, she learned that Emily had been beheaded for treason”

“Her life was like nightfire—a place that once burned with bright hope, now nothing more than a flickering blackness”

“the motion giving Morte’s new leather reins a shake, a gift from the Spade. Morte regarded them humorously”

“Her childishness convicted her and she felt her face flush with shame.”

“I lay beside my love. The next day, I buried Amabel and Ioney under their favorite berry bush”

“When at last my vengeance was complete, I left their bodies in the Twisted Wood, just like they had left my Amabel to die”

“Dinah stared at the Spade as fat drops of rain drenched them both. Lightning snaked across the gray sky. “Vengeance. This is why I help yeh.”

“someday we will both have justice for the loved ones taken from us.”

“The walls around them were alive, raising their voices in a hissed chorus. Evil, evil, evil”

“The light blazed through the dark. She burst through into its glorious pinkness and fell to her knees”

“There was nothing sweeter than being alive. Morte whinnied happily beside her, rolling on the soft carpet of flowers”

“The flowers radiated a warm heat when they popped open, which accounted for the heavenly air”

“The valley was deep and long, a maze of color and fantastic curling shapes”

she blindly ran, arrows falling around her like rain.

“Morte!” she screamed. “Morte!”

“You will not touch my steed this day, nor spill my blood. I do not fear death from your arrows, but you should fear my sword”

“waited to see Charles’s happy face, just on the other side of the rabbit hole”

“The ground was covered by a lush, bluish-green grass. Horses were everywhere, roaming free—eating, running, sleeping.”

Dinah saw Charles’s tiny body crumpled under a starry sky. Her voice rose. “I have nothing but hatred for the king.”

“made her dreams vivid and joyful. Charles, weaving feathers into a hat. Harris, adjusting his spectacles while they feasted on wine and grapes.”

seeing Charles on the stone slab. “Don’t be sorry. It would be fitting to die like my brother.”

“She danced around Bah-kan, and once managed to land a hard blow just above his ribs”

“She suspected his pressing appointment was with one of the Yurkei women who was fond of watching him bathe every day”

“Yes, she could be happy here, perhaps in time. There was no Wardley, so a truly perfect life was ruled out”

“she knew that she was being led, and yet the smell was everything she missed. Harris and Wardley and warm baths and the palace.”

“Cheshire’s wicked grin seemed to stretch to the end of the valley. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you where you sit,” she hissed

“My mother. How dare he? Dinah was on him in a second, grabbing his neck”

he lowered his voice significantly, and Dinah felt chills rush up her spine. “Perhaps from the night I saved your life”

“The night when I told you to go now, and yet, like an idiot, you visited Charles’s chamber instead?”

“Cheshire was the stranger who had saved her life? She stopped struggling and stood stunned”

“I guess we’ll start at the very beginning, since most of the things I dabble in start with me anyway.”

“You’re smart, like me. I mean, gods know people have tried to poison me over the years. Adorable.”

“Together we conceived a child and named her Dinah. You, my beautiful and strong daughter.”

“seeing the love of your life dying in front of you and being able to exchange only formal, pleasant words of comfort, your heart feeling like it will burst inside your chest.”

“I dared not say anything, because who would watch over you if I was executed?”

“so unlike mad Charles, with his blond hair”

Cheshire smiled and looked down at the table. “I had already interceded where I dared to make sure that you had a good childhood.”

“I arranged for the Ghanes to move into the palace so that you might have a friend in Wardley”

“I convinced the king to hire gentle Harris as your guardian”

“so that you and your mother could have some peace.”

“After all, I knew my daughter to be intelligent and curious, just like me.”

Dinah’s throat was dry and stinging.

“She stared at Cheshire as he continued, but all she saw was Charles”

“could not hide my horror when he told me that he had just thrown Charles from a window”

“I knew that every moment of my life had boiled down to this one. How could I help save my daughter without revealing the truth?”

“I ran—how I ran—first to the kitchens and then to the weapons room. I knew you would never survive without food in the wild.”

“I watched you sleeping—my daughter, the pride of my heart, with a face like her mother’s and a fierce intelligence not unlike my own. I had never seen you so close.”

“I vowed I would do whatever it took to help you survive. Then you awoke . . . and tried to kill me.” He gave a chuckle.

“I believe she was glad to receive the crown. The king left immediately after to resume the hunt.”

“as soon as I knew that you were safely in Sir Gorrann’s care, I quietly took my leave from the king’s side and followed an alternate path”

“Please forgive me for my delay.” He gestured to the elaborate table. “One would not call me a light packer.”

“But, finally, here we are, father and daughter, reunited at last, without secrets or lies between us. I have longed for this moment.”

“Tea, my daughter?”

“Kneeling before her, he bowed his jet-black head in the moonlight”

“Why? Because you were born to wear the crown, and I will not see Davianna’s daughter slowly waste away.”

“a ring of hearts that blazed like fire. The crown she had left behind. Cheshire picked up the crown and lowered it onto her head.”

“His voice boomed through the trees. “Rise, Dinah, and become the Queen of Hearts. It is time to embrace your fate.”

“She ran her fingers lightly over them. Harris would have loved to see this.”

“things changed. Dinah, I’ve grown a bit fond of yeh, and I’ll fight beside yeh, whatever yeh decide.”

his face etched with the love of a father.

“Yeh remind me of my Ioney”

“when she was a child in her mother’s arms, when Charles was still alive”

“Be quiet! Do yeh long to be pecked to death?”

“We become who we must to overcome pain and to make things right again”

“I will have the crown that my brother made for me. I will take it with fury and swords.”

“they rose into the air in an ever-widening spiral, blocking out the stars”

“A crowd of Yurkei was gathering, and their voices gave way to silent awe as she walked down the steep path”

“Cheshire, his purple robes billowing in the wind and his hands resting together”

“Dinah’s newfound father came with his own set of demands: he would take his seat as the queen’s main adviser”

“while Cheshire was constantly trying to engage her, she couldn’t bring herself to be kind to him, not yet”

“Since he had arrived, Cheshire had given her a number of gifts—a lovely diamond brooch in the shape of a cat”

“without her noticing, the blade and her body had become one”

“Then again, they had to live in the Darklands, which to Dinah seemed to be punishment enough”

“the women of the Yurkei presented Dinah with a gift: a suit for battle, adorned with elements representing both Hu-Yuhar and Wonderland”

“The collar was lined with soft white gossamer feathers plucked from young birds”

“Cheshire put his hand over his heart and gasped. Sir Gorrann, steps behind him, raised his eyebrows.”

“giving her healing tinctures and murmuring quiet prayers for her success”

“I want him back. He is no good to you dead. We need him.”

“Dinah felt the crown heavy upon her head. “I swear it on my brother’s life, on Charles’s name.”

Dinah was already climbing down the ladder. “Then we will all be dead anyway. Good night.”

“Morte had been so happy to see her that he only stomped around her three times”

“They ran through the valley for hours, the thundering of his hooves scaring the other wild ponies into submission”

Their faces were alarmingly happy.

“What are you staring at? Where are the warriors? Have they already killed each other?”

“the rider was smaller, with a mane of curly brown hair blowing in the . . .

Dinah didn’t feel her body start to move, but soon she was sprinting”

“WARDLEY! WARDLEY!”

He abandoned his horse, sprinting toward her as she screamed his name.

“WARDLEY!”

They collided in the middle of the field in a tangle of limbs and a crushing embrace.

Wardley was kissing her forehead, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

“I thought I would never see you again!” sobbed Dinah.

“I’m here now. I’m here. Shhh.”

“don’t you know? I’m here to command your army.”

“He’s here, she thought. He came for me. I wasn’t wrong to believe he’d find me.”

“Wardley had known Dinah her entire life, in the intimate way”

“recounted her story, alarmed at how dangerous everything seemed in retrospect”

Dinah rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you bathe a thousand times.”

“That is true.”

“after she had stabbed him (way too deep! he was kind enough to remind her)”

looked surprised to see Wardley soaking wet and Dinah watching silently.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Dinah let her hand rest on his thick curls, her face cracking into a smile”

“Her hands slid down his hair, tracing his jawline, pulling his face upward”

“You are surely not the same girl that I kissed under the Julla Tree. You’ve grown strong!”

“He reached out and tugged playfully on her braid, and Dinah’s fierce heart melted”

“He demonstrated by breaking off half of the kitchens, folding it flat, and then putting it back”

“Sir Gorrann stepped in front of her, his sword drawn and trembling as he pointed it at his old commander”

“He’s an incredible monster, isn’t he?” They both glanced over at Morte as he happily stomped a toad to death.”

so enchanting, a world of soft pink bubbles and warm light. She shrugged. “It feels like love.”

“And that’s why it’ll kill yeh,”

“They came to me how they came to me. You did not come here to ask questions about the pillows.”

“Keep your temper, Queen of Hearts.”

Morte was beside her now, and she weakly pulled herself up”

Dinah heard Wardley’s voice ringing above the commotion. “What the hell happened? Give her to me! Bring Cheshire now!”

“Wardley leaned his face over hers. “You can close your eyes, Dinah. I’m here.”

“happy to fall asleep in the arms of the one she loved most.”

“What happened?”

Cheshire resumed lightly patting her head

“She looked up at Cheshire with amazement. “How does one make warm pies in the wilderness?”

“he explained its full effects. My dagger at his throat helped a bit, I think. ”

“where I could love you both proudly. And yet, by doing that, I would deny you the crown”

“taking care with each corner. When he was done, a tiny paper mouse remained”

“You’re up!” His long arms wrapped around her shoulders, and Dinah gladly let him pull her against his body.”

“pushing her hair aside to whisper in her ear. Dinah’s heart beat rapidly as his breath brushed her cheek.”

“Do you believe we can win? As the onetime future Knave of Hearts, do you think we will win?”

a lock of curly brown hair fell over his eyes. Dinah felt her heartbeat quicken. “Take a walk with me, Dinah. There’s something I want to show you.”

“waterfall flowed up from the middle, its stream turning into mist”

“I prayed that I could take you here one day, that you would wake up.”

A smile crept over his face, so lovely that it hurt her heart. “Wonderland is a pretty wondrous place”

“Yes, but . . . what if he doesn’t? What if he puts on a helmet, and I don’t recognize him?”

“the way his sculpted muscles tensed under his shirt. He had become a man since she had seen him last.”

“I will kill you before I let the king torture you. And I hope you will do the same for me.”

“The last time that I get to speak with you as a friend, and not as a commander to his queen.”

“he grabbed the back of her head roughly and pressed his lips hard against hers. Dinah gasped at the force with which he kissed her. It was a hungry kiss.”

“feeling the muscles rippled across his shoulders as he pressed down against her. A whimper escaped his lips”

“As he kissed her furiously, Dinah felt a wet tear drip down his face onto her cheek.”

“what is wrong? What are you doing?” Her eyes traveled over the face she knew so well.

“Dinah felt the creepings of a familiar dark emotion as she looked up at the man she loved so much: rejection.”

“I want to be your king, your husband, your lover. But I cannot . . .”

prickly laughs tearing her into pieces. “It was the only thing that ever mattered, Wardley.”

“I COMMAND IT!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “OBEY ME!”

“how just moments ago, his lips had been on hers. She bit down on them so hard that she tasted blood.”

“She clutched Morte’s mane, driving him harder, faster, until the two of them moved over the earth in a blur of blackness”

“If she could not quench the fire burning within her, she would set Wonderland ablaze”

“His ancient fingers, once used to turn the pages of glorious books of history and language now struggled to fold a tiny piece of paper”

“consoling himself with his own voice. “Remember, my dear, it’s not the size of the paper, but the size of your skill”

“Harris, how long is forever?” she had asked.

Harris had smiled. “Sometimes, just one second.”

“The crane stared back at him, bobbing slightly.”

“The queen was coming. He knew it. That was not the question.

The question was who would she be when she got here.”

#quotes #queen of hearts #blood of wonderland #loveeee this book #spoilers

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loveissupernatural · 2 years

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**read chapter 1 here** - **read chapter 2 here** - **read chapter 3 here** - **read chapter 4 here**

Morpheus/Dream x fem!reader

In Your Dreams

Chapter 5

“Life is a sleep and love is its dream; and you have lived if you have loved.”

-Alfred de Musset

The following day felt longer than you would have liked. You were anxious for the sun to set, and with it, the answers that would quench the fire of burning curiosity in your mind. Why was the heart of The Dreaming rotting away? Why were you able to escape the borders of your dream and travel there, and why was Lucienne so obviously disturbed by it? Where was Dream? But, most importantly, why did you feel the need to be there in the first place? Why couldn’t you come to terms with this entire experience for the incredible magical adventure that it was and just let it go?

Even though you were filled with more questions than ever before, you could feel in the deepest recesses of your soul that the solutions to all of them lay in The Dreaming.

Your enthusiasm to return to the palace caused you to have trouble falling asleep for the first hour that night. The castle was your new Burgess house – mysteries hid there that tickled at your insides, that whispered to you in the darkness of the night to uncover them.

Finally, after tossing and turning, your eyes fluttered closed and stayed that way. Shifting shapes whirled behind your eyelids, flitting from corner to corner, until they gently settled into the outline of a horizon. A warm sun began to rise and filtered light onto the dark line, illuminating the scene for you. You instantly recognized the scent of poppies on the breeze.

That fragrant wind whipped through your hair lovingly, like the soft fingers of a curious child, swirling around your form. You spun with it, arms outstretched, grinning from ear to ear. How you wished with everything within your heart that this place was real, that this is where you could spend the waking hours of your life.

You opened your shining eyes to see the parting gate of horn and ivory before you. You hadn’t even needed to start the journey within the confines of your own dream this time – you were already here. Your path of glinting black and gold marble was still below your feet, humming with welcoming warmth.

You couldn’t contain your happiness when the dividing gates revealed a view to you that had shifted from the night before. The stretches of murky water were trickling into a singular crystal river, sparkling blue and immense. Where unforgiving rock and dark sand had suffocated the landscape, beautiful blades of grass and stretches of green ferns were beginning to emerge. You recognized your favorite flower, blooming white poppies, dancing in the breeze on the riverside. An enormous bridge was sliding into place over the river, cradled by gargantuan stone hands that surfaced from the crystal water.

Creatures were returning, beautiful and terrifying alike, flying through the milky blue sky and snaking through the growing grass around your feet. The air was no longer choked with an eerie silence; insects buzzed, water rushed, citizens of The Dreaming were laughing.

Life.

You followed the massive bridge of stone to the center, where the once-crumbling palace was being rebuilt in the gleam of glorious sunlight. Fallen walls and castle turrets were reassembling themselves brick by brick with meticulous accuracy, as if someone had hit rewind. Rusting spires were shedding their coat of orange muck and shining gold. Magnificent archways were mending their own cracks and rising tall, transforming from ashy grey to glimmering white.

The heart of The Dreaming was returning to its former glory. Pure joy blossomed in your chest like the rosebuds of a vine that was bending around the pillars of the bridge.

You walked into the castle entryway, still grinning like a fool, as you looked up and watched every shard of broken glass and every crushed stone float into the air and return to their homes. A beautiful stained-glass window was mending directly above your head. The colorful fragments gradually slid together to form the image of a Pegasus, and as the last piece fell into place, it sprang to life, neighing triumphantly and beating its wings.

“Not too shabby, huh?” came a proud voice from behind you.

You spun to see a tall scarecrow-like figure with the head of a pumpkin approaching you. His face was the cut of a jack-o-lantern, crooked mouth pulling up at the corner in a tilted smile. He stopped by your side and put his branch-like hands on his thin hips, gazing up appreciatively at the work of glass art. You tried not to stare too rudely at him.

You turned your head back toward the magnificent window, now casting rays of colored sunlight onto you and your Halloween-like companion.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” you replied truthfully.

He grunted in agreement, then looked down at you. His triangular eyes narrowed.

“Hey, ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around these parts before,” he said. “You new?”

Your lips upturned at his gutteral New York accent. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Lotsa new folks all around this joint today,” he said, shaking his large head in amusement. “Guess that’s what happens when ya hammer a few nails and splash on a fresh coat a’ paint—everyone comes back to tha neighborhood.”

“It does look pretty inviting,” you agreed, turning to face him. You stuck out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

The pumpkin-headed man stuck out his wooden hand and shook yours firmly. “I’m Mervyn, but everybody calls me Merv.”

“Hi, Merv.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms. “Well, considerin’ you bein’ new and all, why don’t I give ya a bit of a tour? It wouldn’t be my first one today.”

“I would love that,” you beamed, resisting the urge to clasp your hands together like a schoolgirl. Merv nodded and turned, motioning with his stick-like hand.

“Well, then, c'mon.”

He walked like a puppet would without strings, you thought, as you followed behind him. You struggled to keep up with his long strides. Mervyn led you through a hallway that had one wall built while the opposite was still floating together. One piece of stone almost hit him in the head on its way back to its appointed position, and he cursed at it.

Once through the hallway, you turned into a winding staircase that glinted with intricate gold. As you followed Merv’s spindly legs up the flight, you appreciated the view to your left of an assembling tower. After a few more steps, you reached the top.

“First things first, here’s our pride and joy,” Mervyn announced grandiosely, spreading out his arms for dramatic emphasis. Your jaw dropped. “This is the library.”

The room was warm wood, cozy sunlight, and beckoning shelves that stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Books were everywhere, of every size, color, and age. You ran your finger along a nearby shelf, tickling their spines. Some looked thousands of years old, others as if they’d come off the press minutes before.

“How many books are in here?” you asked in wonder, turning in a full circle to better take in the view.

“A helluva lot,” Mervyn answered slyly. “To tell you the truth, I’m not the one you should ask. Lucienne’s the librarian in charge.”

At the sound of her name, the woman that you had met the night before emerged from behind a nearby cascade of bookshelves. Her eyes smiled at Mervyn, but then they settled onto you.

Lucienne’s face paled.

“You’ve returned,” she breathed, striding toward the two of you with a haste in her step, “and so soon.”

“Oh, you’ve met before?” Mervyn asked, eyes shifting between the librarian and yourself.

“We have,” you told him, trying to make sure your grin didn’t turn into a grimace.

“Just last night, in fact,” Lucienne added. Her perceptive gaze wandered over your nervous form.

“Last night?” Merv repeated incredulously. He motioned over his shoulder. “But the boss hadn’t even started rebuilding yet! How’d she—?”

“A question we all would like to know,” Lucienne answered, fixing you with a penetrating stare over the top of her round glasses. She clasped her hands behind her back expectantly.

“Hey, I’d like to know too,” you said defensively. You crossed your arms, but then dropped them to your sides, not wanting to come off as defiant. “I’ve already told you everything that I know.”

“Lucienne, who is this?” Mervyn asked curiously, pointing a thumb at you.

The librarian sighed heavily but her eyes softened. Her tone was gentle, appreciative. “This, Mervyn, is the young lady that released Lord Morpheus from his prison.”

“No kiddin’?! That was you?!” he questioned unabashedly, shock evident in his wide eye sockets.

You shrugged, not a fan of the intense attention. “Well, yeah… but it’s really not that big of a deal…”

“Not that big of a deal?” Mervyn repeated, voice dripping in astonishment. “Are you kiddin’ me? This place would still be fallin’ apart if it wasn’t for you!”

“That’s why everything looked the way that it did the last time I came?” you asked Lucienne. “Because Dream wasn’t here?”

She nodded somberly. “He was captured for nearly a century and was unable to return. Everything was dissipating, disappearing… it cannot exist without him. He is The Dreaming.”

“But it’s been over a week since I helped him escape,” you said, confused. “Where has he been all of that time?”

“Lord Morpheus was traveling the realms on a quest to reobtain his tools.”

Something hopeful fluttered in your chest. Those nights where you’d been calling out to him and he hadn’t shown himself… it wasn’t because he was ignoring you, it was because he wasn’t even there in the first place.

“Look, uh… I hate to interrupt this conversation,” Merv cut in, scratching the back of his pumpkin head uncomfortably, “but… shouldn’t we tell the boss that she’s here?”

Joy sparked in your chest at his words.

Lucienne hesitated. “There’s still so many questions that remain unanswered. We don’t know how or why she is able to leave her dreams, let alone create a path from their border and through the waters to the palace.”

Mervyn didn’t have eyebrows, but if he did, you were sure he would be raising them in surprise.

“I didn’t have to use the path this time,” you told her, biting your lip. “I just kind of started at the gate.”

“You materialized here, in the heart of The Dreaming?” she clarified, voice filled with bewilderment and cut with that undertone of concern again.

“That ain't normal,” Mervyn shook his head.

“It appears that each time you fall asleep, you are somehow able bypass steps that you’ve previously taken,” she said thoughtfully, almost to herself. “You’re no longer appearing within the boundaries of your own dreams.”

An excited smile pulled at your lips. “Cool.”

“No, no, not ‘cool’,” Lucienne admonished, turning from you and Mervyn to start rifling through a stack of books resting on a nearby table. “This behavior is quite abnormal, even for a lucid dreamer such as yourself.”

“Lucid dreamer, ‘ay?” Merv inquired, crossing his reedy arms over his chest and leaning back against the shelf behind him. “Not too many a’ you guys left no more.”

“Really?”

“They’ve become exceedingly rare,” Lucienne confirmed, finally picking out a book from the pile. “Consistently lucid dreamers existed more commonly thousands of years ago. Now, well…” her eyes roamed over your confused face “…you’re the first I’ve seen in, at least, a millennium.”

“You always been able to do that?” Mervyn asked you. “Change stuff around?”

“Since I can remember,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair at the ornate table in front of you and sitting. “I’d sleep the day away just to keep dreaming.”

“But roaming through the dreamscape, you said last night that you had only just started?” the librarian asked, peering over the edge of the thick book in her hands. She joined you at the table.

Something caught your eye. The book that Lucienne had plucked from the bunch was bound in black with two golden words emblazoned on the cover: your first and last name.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s that?” you questioned enthusiastically, scooting your chair closer to her. “My name’s on there!”

A proud smile creeped onto the head librarian’s face. “This library contains every story ever written and unwritten, finished or unfinished, everything that has been and will never be.” She tapped the hard cover of your book with a manicured nail. “And this is yours.”

“Wow,” you sighed, resting your chin on your palm. Lucienne’s smile grew at your awestruck expression. “So, what all is in there about me?”

“Everything,” she answered simply.

You gulped. “Like, everything everything?”

She laughed. It was a harmonious sound.

“Relax, even your most embarrassing of moments pale in comparison to many of the things I read every day,” she assured you, eyes twinkling with amusement. She became serious again. “I thought it advantageous to find your book after your unexpected visit last night. I had to be sure that you weren’t a threat to The Dreaming.”

Your smile fell. “I’m – I’m not. I don’t want to be a threat to anybody.”

Lucienne sighed, expression trickling with pity.

“I know those aren’t your intentions. But the fact remains that your recent abilities are those that no mortal should possess.”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Merv said, standing from his perch against the bookcase to lean against your table instead. He grinned crookedly at you. “We’ll get this figured out. If anyone can sniff out what’s goin’ on here, it’s Lucienne.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. The thought of being some kind of danger to this beautiful place rattled you. All you had wanted was to find Morpheus, to make sure everything turned out okay after you released him. After all, being imprisoned against your will for a hundred years had to be traumatic for anyone, right? Even the King of Dreams?

You had more selfish reasons, too, but those would stay private.

Suddenly, a voice called out.

It echoed into the large room, gentle but authoritative, soft but commanding respect. With a wave of warmth washing over your skin, you knew that you would recognize that beautiful sound anywhere.

“Lucienne,” his voice called, “I believe it is time we review the findings from the census.”

All three of you froze in place.

The King of Dreams emerged from the nearest aisle, graceful stride filled with purpose. He donned all black, a sweeping floor length coat flowing behind him as he walked, regal. His alabaster skin almost seemed to glow against his dark attire. His hair was as black as his clothing, still so gloriously messy and wild.

He was in his element, thriving and flourishing in a way that radiated from his very being. This was his domain.

Morpheus’s icy blue eyes moved from Lucienne to Mervyn. Then, they locked onto you.

Your breath hitched as you stood, chair screeching back noisily. That feeling, that delicious humming in your bones, it was different here, more alive. It was starlight sparking in your spine. He stood at least ten feet away, impossibly still, but you could feel his presence as strongly as you would if he were inches from you. Time stood still.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his fathomless eyes at the sight of you, none of which you could place, but whatever they were made the air in the library thick. Your eyes drank in his face and his roamed yours, penetrating but swirling with something soft.

Mervyn cleared his throat uncomfortably. It just then occurred to you that you had no idea how long the two of you had been standing like that, staring at each other.

The sound seemed to bring Dream back to himself.

“Lucienne. Mervyn. Leave us,” he commanded quietly, but he didn’t look at them. His intense gaze never once broke from yours.

Their replies came quickly and in hushed tones, almost as if embarrassed.

“Of course, sir.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

They scurried away with heads down. As they reached the exit to the library, you could hear Mervyn mutter, “Well, talk about some tension...”

Morpheus blinked at the comment, but you didn’t miss the almost-imperceptible smirk that tugged at one corner of his lips. He was still staring at you.

With a smile that revealed every whisper of your heart, you broke the silence.

“Hi.”

Dream took a slow step toward you, measured. Then another. The curtain of dark lashes framing his endless eyes fluttered as he took you in, gaze roaming to your feet and back up again.

“Hello.” His voice was velvet.

You swallowed, begging the blush that you could feel creeping up your neck to go away. Couldn’t you have at least one interaction with him without your body betraying you? You felt like a fucking teenager.

“You, um, never answered my question,” you said, taking a step toward him as well. One of his dark brows rose. “You put me to sleep first. Rude, by the way.”

His smirk wasn’t nearly as well-hidden now.

“My deepest apologies. And what question would that be?”

You took another step closer, still not breaking eye contact. You clasped the back of a chair with one hand to ground yourself.

“You’re… you are alright, then?” you asked quietly. For the smallest of moments, his eyes betrayed everything. He was touched by your concern.

“You have journeyed through The Dreaming, to the heart of my realm, simply to ask after my well-being?”

His voice held an undercurrent of emotion, but he attempted to hide it with the slightest lilt of tease.

A playful glint sparkled in your eye. “Well, I did play spy for over a month just to get into that basement. What’s a desert and an ocean or two?”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes was shuttered by the weight of your words. It seemed that once Morpheus got past the initial surprise of seeing you there, the same realization dawned on him that concerned Lucienne.

“You traveled through the outer lands of The Dreaming,” he stated, brows furrowed in unease. “You left the confines of your dream and found yourself here?”

The general trepidation from everyone surrounding your ability to leave your dream world disturbed you. You saw it as a gift, but it seemed to be one that you were not meant to have. You let out a sigh.

“I created a path,” you told him. “It took me through the desert and through an ocean… and then I ended up on that dock out there.” You tilted your chin toward the windows. “The path ended at the gates, and when I touched them, they opened. Then I came here.”

Morpheus was close now, taking in every word you that escaped your lips with rapt attention. His powerful stare was not angry, but perplexed. His eyes were swimming with anxious confusion.

“How is this possible?” he whispered to himself. His pale hand rose, ever so slowly, to ghost the line of your jaw. The touch was barely there, so very brief, but it left tingling chills in its wake. He examined your every feature, searching for the answer. “For you are not a vortex.”

For a moment, you’d forgotten how to speak, mind still reeling from the fact that he had just touched you, and that it felt so indescribable. His fingers had barely brushed an inch of skin, but that starlight sparkling in your spine had overtaken every nerve ending.

“Vortex?” you asked when you found your voice. Your eyebrows came together. “What’s a vortex?”

To your dismay, Dream stepped away from you. He turned toward the table where you were previously sitting with Lucienne and Mervyn, delicate fingers flipping through the many volumes that were stacked over its surface. His hands settled on a red hardback, lifting it so that you could read the gold lettering on the cover.

“Rose Walker,” he replied, face impassive.

At your obvious confusion, Dream stepped back and motioned with a graceful hand toward the archway where Lucienne and Mervyn had disappeared moments before.

“Where are we going?” you asked, walking in the direction he indicated.

Morpheus was tall at your side, right hand ghosting the small of your back, featherlight. The stars in your backbone twinkled at the touch.

His voice was euphonious when he bent to your ear.

“Follow me.”

**read chapter 6 here

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theladyofbloodshed · 3 years

Text

STEEL & FLAME - PART 6

A little bit of romance incoming!

‘Lucien, are we going to sit here all night or will you ask me to dance?’

Where the soft skin of Nesta’s hand brushed against his, Lucien came alive. Her hands were delicate; the skin porcelain and unmarred save for a scar near her thumb. Lucien was glad to see that her hands were not swollen or calloused from hard labour. He would ensure Nesta never struggled. She deserved a life of happiness when so much was taken from her. If she wanted to spend her days lounging on a couch reading, he’d support that life for her.

Lucien sensed she was nervous – that dancing with him was pushing her far out of her comfort zone – so he debated dancing for only one song then leading her back to her seat. But with every beat of the drum and every strum of the lute, Nesta seemed to come alive. Those fluid, easy movements were muscle memory.

They barely spoke through six dances, just shy smiles as they turned and exchanged hands with other couples. Nesta picked up the dances quickly – many were ones Lucien knew from the Spring Court parties long before Amarantha turned everything to shit.

She showed no fear of embarrassment in the face of a misstep or a collision with a new partner. At one point, Lucien was sure she’d laughed. Nesta and another female had bumped into each other when the female turned in the wrong direction. The dark-haired female was still laughing as she steered Nesta back into the right path and Nesta had a glow upon her cheeks.

When the band finished, the crowd demanded more. And then again until the singer’s voice could sing no more and the owner of the tavern turned them out for the night.

As they walked into the wind-swept night, Nesta laced her arm around Lucien’s. His heart fluttered at the contact though Nesta tried not to look at him, as if steeling her own nerves.

A low-hum buzzed in Lucien’s ear. A quiet thrill that they were walking alongside each other back to his apartment. There would be a time to seduce her. A time to make love to Nesta deep into the night. But Lucien only wanted to hear her laugh now. It hadn’t been enough to catch the ebbing of it like the tide going out, he needed to hear it for himself.

‘Thank you for this evening, Nesta. It was nice to have company.’

Nesta dipped her head, cradling her hands in front of her abdomen as they entered the apartment. ‘You have lots of friends.’

A light snort left him. ‘Not anymore.’

A small crease indented between Nesta’s brows as she frowned. Her grey eyes searched him for an injury. Then, in a quiet voice, she asked, ‘Because you helped my sister leave the Spring Court?’

‘Yes. I have always been able to make friends, but Spring had become my home.’

‘I am sorry you had to suffer. I know how it feels to have your home taken from you.’

In his head, Lucien ran through the history he knew of Nesta: she’d lost her first home to debt collectors, the second home had been a broken down hovel, the third had been given by Tamlin and decimated by war, her fourth had been the House of Wind – a perch in the mountain she could not flee from – then the fifth was the town house within the heart of Velaris. Her final home was one that Nesta had chosen with the handful of coins the high lord and lady had given her. Every root she tried to plough into the ground had been torn back out. It was enough to make Lucien’s blood boil with the unfairness of it all.

‘Thank you.’

Lucien’s breath snagged in his throat as Nesta locked eyes with him. There was something in her gaze that he could not name. Something he knew he’d crawl on broken glass to see again. Through their bond he felt that ripple of nervous energy from Nesta. She prised her hands apart so they dangled awkwardly at her side.

‘Nobody ever wants to spend time with me. Thank you. I enjoyed it. All of it.’

Lucien couldn’t put it down to alcohol; although they had drank, once they had started dancing only water had passed their lips. Both were now sober. A hand lightly rested upon his elbow and Lucien did not dare to move. Nesta leaned closer a few inches – impossibly close – so he could see the faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Lips, as soft as petals, touched against his own. Lucien swore the blood pounding in his veins came to a screeching halt when they kissed. By that moment, Lucien would forever be undone. His mate. His mate reaching for him. Kissing him. Wanting him.

Nesta withdrew slightly then her eyes fluttered open to meet his again. All they needed was that spark of consent and Lucien’s lips were on Nesta kissing her back gently, fervently. His hands moved to the small of her back, drawing her to him. Following his lead, Nesta’s hands reached up his back.

He could have kissed his mate for an eternity in the darkened apartment illuminated only by the silent flames glowing in the hearth. The low murmur that broke from Nesta’s lips as he cradled a hand against her neck threatened to buckle Lucien’s knees. It was a beginning and an undoing all at once. There was no other female for him.

***

Once Lucien’s footsteps had faded from the other room and she was certain he was asleep, Nesta let out a long breath. Like a plank of wood, she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling. She could not believe that she had kissed him. She had wanted to. Wanted to spin into his arms and kiss him in the Three Crowns. He’d stood so handsome, singing and laughing amongst strangers with such a relaxed manner, it had made Nesta comfortable enough to enjoy herself. So often, she’d stayed rigid against an arm chair, drinking alone and dreaming she had the courage to join the dancers. Lucien had given her that courage with his easy manner.

Part of her had wanted to rebel against her heart because knowing that he was the sort of male her mother would have approved of made her bitter. Lucien was polite, his manners were impeccable, he dressed well, was intelligent – kind too - and her mother would have declared him a wonderful man. If her mother knew his family in the Autumn Court had an entire treasury, both of her parents would have frothed at the mouth. Nesta had tried to fight her feelings. Tried to tell herself that the rough men she encountered in taverns who only wanted a quick tryst were the sort of men she deserved. That her mother was wrong – that Nesta was not worthy of a good man.

In the morning, Lucien greeted her politely and offered a walk again along the river. Nesta declined. The morning had brought more clarity and though she did not regret kissing Lucien, it was silly of her. Nesta could not promise him a future; she did not want a future for herself to begin with. It all seemed bleak like a thick, heavy fog that she wasn’t able to pierce. Lucien did not mention it either.

‘I’ll pop out for shopping then as well. I have to meet with Rhysand later and I’m sure to be given the cursory dinner invitation. Is it a safe assumption that you would prefer to remain here?’

‘You would be correct,’ she conceded, taking her favoured seat on the couch.

Lucien smiled tightly. ‘Should I inform them of your whereabouts?’

Likely they were waiting for her to hammer on the front door and demand rent. On the odd occasion that Nesta had reluctantly attended their gatherings, it was as if storm clouds followed her and she swallowed their good mood. Their conversations would dry up in Nesta’s presence for the first hour then they’d ignore her entirely. Nobody had ever made an effort to talk to her. Only Azriel had ever not sought to upset her, preferring his own silence.

‘Only if they ask. I do not want to see them for some time.’

Nesta knew that Lucien had a heart of gold, that he would keep Nesta a secret if she wished it though he owed her nothing. Her throat was too dry to thank him.

Seizing the opportunity of an empty apartment, Nesta had gritted her teeth through a bath until her jaw had ached then she sought refuge back on the couch beneath a blanket. Even Sweet Magnolias struggled to hold her interest fully. Her mind was filled with doubts about herself. She had thought that Lucien might have mentioned what had happened between them the previous night. Or maybe it had not been as enjoyable for him as it had been for her. She was a novice when it came to love. Perhaps he was embarrassed by it. He ought to be ashamed that his mate was the Cauldron-born vicious viper who could not wash herself without despairing.

***

Nesta’s head rested on a curled arm when Lucien returned. She wasn’t quite sat upright, but the position was hardly comfortable. He draped a blanket on top of her and let her sleep. He imagined she needed to catch up on weeks without it.

While Nesta slept, Lucien cooked. A kind, elderly female in the grocery store had talked him through the steps of cooking a tomato soup as if it were the most complex dish imaginable. They could not live from tea and toast forever and Lucien would not ask Nesta to cook as a conniving way to have her accept the bond.

The mortal lands beckoned. He had originally planned to return today, but Lucien could not pull himself away so easily from Nesta. Tomorrow, he vowed to join with Jurian and Vassa if only to stop them sending a mortal army hunting for him for not returning when he’d promised. Jurian would teach him to cook too - even if it was rough meals more suitable for war camps, it was far more than Lucien knew how to cook now.

As the soup simmered on a low heat, Lucien sat at the opposite end of the couch to Nesta but tugged the blanket over his own feet as he read a copy of Sweet Magnolias. It started out as the type of book that Lucien expected from Nesta; a dark haired male who was sour and quiet and a blonde haired female who was half his size and both despised each other. He skimmed through the pages awaiting the traumatic moment that would bring them together or the awkward scenario where they’d be forced to be in close contact like trapped in a broom cupboard, but there was no romance to be found. No shy glances or chaste kisses. What Lucien did find, raised his brows in disbelief. The book was absolutely filthy. Nesta hadn’t been reading epic love stories for the ages; no, she was reading about females having their clothes torn off and being fucked in a barn.

This sleeping female at the other end of the couch was a mystery. Did she want a romance or did she want that?

Lucien kept reading, now completely enthralled. He did not know such books existed. Tamlin knew the dirtiest of limericks – ones he’d made up – but he’d roar with laughter if Lucien shared these books with him.

‘Why are you reading my book?’

The voice, sharp and accusatory, darted to him. Nesta had peeled open an eye like a dragon awaking from slumber.

‘This is my book,’ he clarified, a grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Yours is on the table. You had been using it as a pillow before it fell face down onto the floor.’

Nesta’s ears pinked then she glanced at the blanket, realised she’d been sleeping, and blushed even more. She adjusted herself to sit up right. ‘Why have you purchased it?’

‘It was a curiosity. Now, however, I am completely hooked. Maura is sat on Ulrin’s face but she’s somehow arching her back like a crab to take Altur in her mouth.’

‘Stop!’

Lucien sucked in a breath as he grinned widely at Nesta. ‘I did not even know that position was possible.’

Nesta’s cheeks glowed red like two rosy apples. Quickly, she snapped, ‘Because Maura is dreaming in that scene. It doesn’t actually happen.’

‘You still look sleepy. Would you like me to read you a passage to send you off again?’

‘No, I would n-’

‘Maura gripped the thick, veiny-’

Nesta threw herself forwards, lunging towards the book, but Lucien anticipated her move. He hauled the book further from her reach so she scrambled up the couch and across his body. One of his hands latched onto her arm, holding her in place, and the other kept the book far from her reach.

‘Nesta, please, I just want to know what Ulrin is going to do with his girthy-’

Nesta’s hand clamped over his mouth to silence him.

‘Are you always like this?’ She demanded.

When his response came out as a muffled vibration against her hand, Nesta withdrew her hand but remained looming over him, supporting her weight on her wrists while her legs lay flat against his own.

‘If you mean always an avid reader and keen to learn – then yes.’

There had to be light in her eyes one day. There had to be a spark of joy one day. This female who had had everything taken from her deserved to be happy.

‘Did you buy this book to tease me?’ There was no lightness in Nesta’s voice, only hurt. She tried to pull away but Lucien kept his grip on her thin wrist.

‘I wanted to share it with you. To find a common thread to talk about- so you could have someone to share your love of books with. I want to get to know you, Nesta.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I think you’re wonderful and worth knowing.’

For a second time, Nesta tried to pull herself away, but Lucien held firm. He could not take that wistful expression clouding her eyes and tugging her mouth downwards.

‘Please, stay. If only for a moment.’

Just as she had the night before, Nesta seemed to gather her courage then lowered herself so she was flush on top of him. Her ear pressed over his heart. She would hear the thunderous racing of it from their physical closeness.

Once certain she was not about to leap to her feet and flee like a nervous animal, Lucien settled his arms around her. Nesta let out a long breath as though she was emptying her lungs of every drop of air. Was she as moved by this moment as he was?

‘Was last night – when we returned – was it unpleasant for you?’

Cauldron above, did Nesta really think Lucien found it unpleasant to kiss his mate? As if he had not spent the entire day thinking of the press of her lips against his or the contented sigh she had made.

‘Why would I find it unpleasant?’

When he tried to shift Nesta higher – to look at her – she resolutely refused to move like an ancient pillar of stone, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

‘You did not speak of it today. I had never done it before. I did not know if I did it wrong.’

Lucien was too stunned to even speak. Stars blotted out his vision.

‘It is not proper for a woman to initiate. I am sorry if you were made to feel uncomfortable by it.’

‘Nesta, I have wanted to kiss you every day since I met you. I didn’t want to scare you off or be too forward…’ His voice trailed off unable to convey how he felt properly. It had never been like this before. His heart had never fluttered every damn time he’d laid eyes on a female the way it did when he saw Nesta. Every thought in his head revolved around her; their future, the life he would provide for her, the memories they could make together, the ways they could grow with each other.

‘I would not mind if you wanted to kiss me again,’ she murmured, voice trembling slightly.

Carefully, Lucien tilted Nesta up higher, closer to him. The skin of his hand was golden-brown against her pale cheek. Even through her dress, Lucien could feel the thump of her heart against his own chest as she lay on top of him.

Softly, his lips pressed to hers. ‘I would kiss you,’ another kiss, ‘every minute,’ another, ‘of every hour,’ another, ‘of every day.’ Lucien’s thumb stroked down her cheek where he cradled Nesta’s beautiful face. ‘If you will let me,’ he murmured, kissing her deeper this time, ‘I will love you like you deserve.’

#steel & flame #lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #lucien x nesta #nesta x lucien

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