#they have also been keeping her very in the dark lately and she deserves to know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

worldofkuro · 2 months

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Could you please place my order? What if the reader were Alastor's next victim... The Reader is very kind and affectionate towards Alastor, but Alastor never felt these feelings at the beginning, perhaps he was confused with the love he felt for the reader, with his desire to kill people ... So on the day of the Reader's death, Alastor sees what he really saw, that he killed the love of his life, now imagine if he also died along with the reader because someone mistook him for a deer... (just like in the original story) now like ghosts, the Reader and Alastor were transforming into their angel forms! Reader and Demon! Alastor, perhaps at this point Alastor desperately tries to talk (and manipulate) the Reader into going to hell with him, as he was afraid of never seeing his love again. What would happen? The reader would be Alastor's first contract (imagine the Reader forgiving Alastor for killing her, and when she touches his hand, this becomes a kind of soul contract that will unite her to him)

Note: these are just ideas, if you want to change or remove something feel free!

Hello, my dear. It was a very interesting ask to work on. I hope you will enjoy it and I'm sorry you had to wait so long. This is a 5K words one shot.

Failing for You

The first time he laid his eyes upon you, it was during his late night walk after taking Mimzy home. The poor girl was too drunk to go back home, so as a gentleman he brought her back to her flat. It was an unoriginal Saturday where he danced all night long with multiple dance partners.

“ Thank you Alastor, you know how to keep a girl safe.” laughed Mimzy, her face flushed because of the alcohol. Alastor smiled at her, she looked so pathetic like this…

“ My pleasure, my dear friend.” Alastor smirked before leaving the woman at her front door. He walked on the dark street without a hint of fear in him. He loved seeing the streets buzzing with the bar’s energy. He wondered if he should go to a bar to dance, he still wasn’t tired after all. He could go somewhere for at least one last glass of whiskey, he thought, looking around to find a bar that seemed to fit his tastes.

He didn’t like when people touched him. He felt uncomfortable and that usually made him irritated. He hated that someone had power over him in any way. So when he felt a petite figure hit his chest as he was walking, he tried hard not to roll his eyes.

Another drunkard, huh…?

He already had his endearing smile, ready to play the gentleman his late mother taught him. And yet, when the woman stumbled backward and lifted her head to look at him, he felt like he had been punched in the stomach.

Those eyes…Shining with concern, with so much vivid emotions…

You were looking at him, already apologizing about your behavior. You didn’t seem drunk, mostly in a hurry. He looked at you, your makeup, your attire… You looked…

Completely normal.

He had seen beautiful women, breathtaking people that made him appreciate the beauty humans could be graced with. Yet, you were normal. He wouldn’t have looked back at you in the street..

Is that why his heart was beating faster? Yes, it must be. He was angry because you dared to touch him, he took a step back and held his hand in front of your face, his charming smile straining against his lips.

“ No worry, lady. I wasn’t being careful either.”

He glanced as you smiled, seeming relieved that he didn’t seem angry with you. Why would he? You didn’t deserve any kind of attention. He could see your flushed cheeks as you opened your mouth to speak. Were you going to ask him to spend the night with you? How predictable. He smirked, waiting for you to ask so he could say he wasn’t interested.

“ Well, have a good night sir.”

He blinked as you ran next past him, not even waiting for him to say something back. He turned around to stare at you as you ran, never looking back at him.

What an odd woman.

—-

Fews days later, he walked into his usual coffee shop so he could grab something to drink before heading back to work. He sat on a chair, took the journal and read the news with a knowing smirk. It seemed like his last murder made it to the front page, he was almost proud of himself.

“ What can I do for you, sir ?”

His fingers grasped the journal with more strength than it was necessary. He knew this voice. The voice that was making him tense everytime he remembered it.

He turned his face toward you, who were waiting with a notebook and a pencil, ready to take his order. He looked at your smile, it didn’t seem fake but it wasn’t a beaming smile either. Your eyes were boringly common, they weren’t shining like last time. You were looking at him like he was no one important. Didn’t you listen to the radio? Were you such an idiot girl?

“ Well, it seems like we met again.” Alastor said with his usual pleasing smile. He looked at you as you observed him, confused before gasping deafeningly. You were so loud…

“ Oh, you are the one I bumped into, right? I’m still very sorry about it, let me pay you your lunch.” You said with a smile much more worthwhile to look at. He stared at you, finally, you were looking at him like you were supposed to.

“ Oh, there is no need, dear.”

“ I insist! Tell me what you desire, I shall make it !”

Alastor studied you as you told him all the foods and drinks you had. He almost scoffed. He was used to this coffee shop, he knew everything on the menu, even the one the chef wasn’t making anymore. He liked this coffee because it wasn’t like the new stores where everyone wanted to drink new things. This coffee shop was just like he liked it:

Traditional.

And yet, here you were, messing his routine with your annoying loud presence. He almost sighed as you said he should try something new. He let you talk, he was mostly trying to read how the newspapers described his crime as macabre and inhuman but you were leaning toward him, asking about his opinion on your recommendation.

You were so loud.

He asked for a black coffee which made you frown. He raised an eyebrow at you, his smile never leaving his face.

“ Yes?”

“ Don’t you want to try something new?”

“I’ll rather die, dear. Now, go make me my coffee.” He said, trying hard not to sigh. You were making it hard to stay polite right now. You pouted, writing down his command but as he was already relaxing, thinking you were going to let him alone, you leaned toward him with a big smile.

“ I swear I’ll make you discover something new that you are going to enjoy, sir.”

“ Please, don’t.”

He rolled his eyes as you ran toward the counter, making his coffee. He read his newspaper, not caring to look at you when you came back with his orders. He tried so hard not to throw his coffee at your face as you kept asking about what he liked. He almost wanted to drag you to where he had killed his last victims and watch your expression. That was what he liked. Nothing else.

He took his leave after finishing his coffee, giving you the money before dashing out of the shop. He looked at his watch, almost grimacing. He didn’t want to be late to work, New Orleans needed to hear all about the murder that were haunting the city.

—-

“ Maybe if I added just a tiny little bit of honey inside it..? Just a tiny…?”

He was staring at the newspaper in his hand, his typical smile on his face. He was trying so hard not to strangle you. You were the loudest person he ever had the misfortune to meet. You were talking about how to ‘improve’ his coffee.

He could see the eyes on both of you. Some seemed jealous, some envious and others were looking at the scene, giggling like they knew something he didn’t.

He couldn’t listen to your voice any longer. Your voice was making his skin tingle, his ears itch and making his heart beating faster. And he knew what those symptoms were. He often pondered questions about his body’s reaction to you, each time he went inside the coffee shop and you smiled immediately , dashing toward him, already talking about how you thought about a recipe that he would enjoy.

Those questions kept him awake at night, but now, he had the answer. He knew why his body was acting this way, feeling hot, being vigilant around you, wanting to reach at you to see your reactions. It was all clear, he almost laughed about how long it took him to find the answer.

Poor you, you just became his next soon to be victim.

He already knew how he was going to take your life away. He was almost giddy like a teenage boy.

“ Sir ?”

He was going to strangle this annoying voice of yours, he swore it on God.

“ Yes, dear?”

“ Well, I was wondering… Why don’t you come to my house tonight, so I can cook you something you are going to enjoy, I swear!”

…

He observed your face and didn’t perceive any kind of malice. You were just inviting him to eat at your place. He tried not to sighed. How naive could you be, at least be a little more intelligent so his game can keep playing a little longer.

“ Why would I do this, dear?” he asked with an almost mocking smile.

“ Because I know something you don’t know.”

He stared at your confident smile. You were sure of yourself about something he didn’t know;.? That would be worrisome if it had been anyone but you. He chuckled, looking back at his newspaper.

“ Why would you invite someone you don’t know the name of ?”

“ Well, if I happened to surprise you with my dish, you shall give me your name!”

Alastor’s thumb caressed the page from his journal, thinking about your proposition. Well, he could eat your dish and then kill you. He smirked before nodding at you, watching as you squeal in joy, jumping around him.

You never said he had to give you his name while you were still alive.

—-

The evening came slowly. Was he.. nervous about eating at your place? Well, maybe you were a horrible cook. And he never killed a woman before, that must be why his body seemed so tense. You gave him your adresse before he left the coffee shop so he easily walked toward your residence. He knocked on the door while looking around.

There were a lot of houses around yours, it almost seemed like it was protecting your domicile. He should kill you somewhere else.

He blinked when you opened your door with a beaming smile. You wore makeup and your dress was objectively pretty. Your eyes were shining with… with what, he wondered.

“ Please, come in , sir.”

He entered your home, looking around. His own house was methodically clean. It was almost like no one was living there. But your… your home; it seemed like everyone was living there. He could see two books open on the floor sofa, a blanket half on the divan…It was… so lively. He could almost see what you were doing on your day off with the way the furniture were placed.

“ Do you want to drink something?”

He looked at you, his body tensing and his heart beating faster. He must really want to kill you huh.. How odd.

You invited Alastor to sit on the sofa and pour him a glass of whiskey. He wondered if it was a lucky coincidence you had his favorite drink or did you ask about him? If you did ask about him, that would be annoying. People knew him, unlike you, you idiotic annoying woman. But if he killed you just after you asked about him to the people around you…If you didn’t know his name, nobody around you had his name so he was clean.

“ Do you like it? My father used to enjoy a glass of whiskey before reading.”

You were giving him information about you without fearing it could turn against you. You were so naive… that was why you were getting killed tonight after all. So, why not enjoy himself?

“ It is actually a favorite drink of mine.” He smiled as he took a sip of the liquid before looking at you and freezing.

You were staring at him with a twinkle in your eyes, an open smile on your lips and a cute blush adoring your cheeks. He scoffed at your reaction, were you so proud you managed to give him something he liked?

It was almost cute.

Alastor didn’t pay attention to your usual chattering but maybe it was because of the whiskey, he listened to you. He even participated in the conversation. You were interesting when you weren’t annoying him. He enjoyed this talk with you.

When you raised up to go to your kitchen to make sure the dinner was ready, he looked around.

Should he strangle you with his bare hand? He liked this idea… But you were a noisy, loud woman. He chuckled, he was sure you would talk while he was trying to maintain his grip on your slender neck.

“ Dinner is ready sir!”

Would you say his name for your last breath?

Alastor sat, admiring the feast you prepared. There was Red Beans and Rice, Crawfish Étouffée and Barbecue Shrimp with Pimento Cheese Grits. You really went all out, didn’t you?

You were observing his every move, waiting for him to eat and tell you if yes or no you were ready to know his name. Alastor hadn't planned to give you his name while you were still alive. Poor you.

He took his fork and took a bite of one of the three dishes and freezed once he tasted the flavor inside his mouth. Dear lord… He didn’t expect you to make such an excellent dish!

“ Well, dear. I’m surprised, it is really excellent. Who would have thought !” His smile turned genuine as he took another bite of it. He looked at you, waiting for you to scream about how you were going to learn his name but you only blushed a little while giving him a soft smile, your eyes gleaming with stars inside it.

You weren’t beautiful, you weren’t breathtaking…

And yet, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you. Right now, you were…. pretty. It wasn’t beautiful, most of the time beautiful people were beautiful for everyone, it wasn’t something intimate. But right now, you were pretty… Something that people wouldn’t look at because they were looking at something else much more worth looking… But if they stayed to watch you, they would see how pretty you are… And they would keep it a secret so you could stay pretty for them.

You were pretty for him.

You began to eat and he was surprised you didn’t ask for his name. You just began to talk like always, asking about his thoughts about things… If you weren’t this infuriating, he would have loved your voice. But from his body's way of reacting, you were just upsetting him. That’s what he was understanding… But why would he want to hear you speak more? Why did he want you to keep being loud…

You were pretty dangerous.

After dinner, you stood up and brought wine and whiskey. He didn’t understand what happened that night. You were having a great time with him, unaware of his dangerous thoughts about you. You were talking about your family, about your friends, about your workplace…

And he was listening.

He wasn’t trying to have the spotlight on him like he usually does. He was listening to you, remembering what you were sharing with him. Keeping check about how your body or expressions changed depending on what you were talking about. He kept drinking to forget what his mind was thinking. His body was showing every sign that he wanted to kill but his mind was saying something different. Something he couldn’t understand.

You were like an open book, he could easily read you… And yet, you were like an open book in a different language. You were showing you were interested in him, but he couldn’t understand it. If you were interested in him, why were you not asking about his name?

He watched as you began to look tipsy. You were giggling at one of his jokes, you laughed too loud but also not loud enough. He wanted you to shut up so he wasn’t feeling warm inside, but he also wanted you to keep laughing because you looked pretty like this.

He closed his eyes, smiling genuinely as he took a sip of his drink. He enjoyed listening to you… Why?

Maybe because he knew nobody was going to hear your voice after he was done with you..? Maybe…

He observed your face as you were getting sleepy. He wasn’t going to kill you if you were asleep so he needed to keep you awake. He didn’t like killing when the person wasn’t awake, he wanted to see your face deformed by fear, hear your voice scream..

And yet, he only stared as you fell asleep, never making a move to keep you awake.

—----

“ Try this, sir!”

It’s been several days since he ate at your place and didn’t kill you.It was a shame you fell asleep. Well, he would kill you later. Just like right now as he was sitting in his usual coffee shop and you were forcing him to drink his black coffee with chantilly on top of it. Who did you think he was? He hated sweets.

“ Dear, I’m not–”

“ I know, but please, I made it personally, please, try it.” You begged him with an excited smile.

Alastor sighed, his smile twitching. How could you be still alive while upsetting him like this every day? He watched as you put chantilly on his once delicious coffee. You were looking at him… Did you really expect him to drink that?

“ Please, sir…”

Mhn… Well, he was going to taste it, hate it and then he would have another reason to kill you.

He brought the cup near his and took a sip of it. He opened his eyes as he was met with a strong taste. It wasn’t bad, he couldn’t feel any sweetness in his drink, and yet the chantilly was clearly there. He turned his head toward you who beamed at him.

“ I didn't add sugar inside of the chantilly, but some crushed coffee beans.” You explained, giggling at him. Why were you laughing ? You leaned toward him and took a napkin from your apron and wiped something from his mouth.

He wasn’t moving, he just stared at you as you wiped the chantilly from his lips. He could see your cheeks flushing and your eyes looking away from his lips. His eyes dropped toward your own lips. They were objectively inviting, he didn’t think a man who couldn’t control his urge would turn you down.

You had a little cut on your lips, did you bite it again because you were stressed ? He could picture you making this sweetless chantilly, stressing about his reaction. How did you react when you saw you cut your own lips with your teeth while thinking about him, mhn?

What if he was the one biting your lips? How would you react?

“ Do you like it?”

“ I think I would.” He kept drinking his coffee, ignoring your confused face.

He really needed to get rid of you, you were a victim that was staying alive for too long now. He thought about his schedule for the day. He would come to your home, asking you for a night walk and then kill you in the bayou. Perfect.

“ You seem happy.” You said, looking at him curiously.

“ Thanks to you, my dear.” said Alastor with a relaxed smile. He was going to kill you and so his life would return to his usual routine. He would drink his back coffee, he would think about things that mattered, he wouldn’t have to hear you loud voice and see your smile getting bigger each time he walked inside the shop, he wouldn–

He froze when he felt your lips against his cheek. His whole body was getting warmer, his skin tingled… His body was reacting oddly but he was sure it was because you touched him and he hated that. He hated it. So why did he do that?

As you leaned back, already pouring excuses from your talkative mouth, he tugged you by the arm toward him and kissed your cheek, pressing his lips against your flushed skin.

“ That’s how you kiss someone, my dear. Now, I have to go.”

He stood up, smirking as you blushed like never before. How cute of you, you couldn’t even talk. You, who was so loud, was now silently staring at him, your mouth opened and your face red. What a good view.

… Were you broken? You weren’t moving anymore, not even blinking. He tilted his head on the side before taking his spoon and put it inside your open mouth which finally made you react. You almost choke on the spoon which made him laugh. He left the coffee before you could ask him anything about what just happened.

This night would be the last time he would see you alive. Play time was over.

After his work Alastor left the building but was surprised when he saw you, seeming to be waiting for someone or completely lost. He didn’t want you to stay near his workplace where everyone knew about him. You would learn his name quickly if you stayed here. He walked toward you, with his usual smile. When you spotted it your smile turned bigger.

“ Sir ! What are you doing here?”

“ Asking you if you wanted to walk with me in the bayou?”

You nodded happily. You were so naive.

You both walked toward the bayou, and he listened as you talked about your day. How could you make everything that happened in your day interesting. Even a dull conversation you had with a man made him chuckle or smirked.

You didn’t even ask anything as you were getting deeper in the bayou. Were you not uncomfortable ? Worried? He was curious about your thoughts.

His hand slid inside his pants’s pocket where he could feel his blade. How should he do it? He wanted to slice your throat, he wanted to steal your voice away. He wanted to make you shut up so your voice wouldn’t haunt him at night anymore.

He stopped walking when you were deep enough in the forest. He closed his eyes, remembering every corpses that were buried in this location. Where should he bury you… He did want you to stay close enough for him to visit you…

“I’m actually scared of the dark, sir.”

He opened his eyes and looked as you played with your fingers, your frame was shaking even if you wanted to look strong. You were almost terrified. He almost sighed, were you a child? Being afraid of the dark… Foolish woman. The dark could protect you, enveloping you in its embrace and making sure nobody was able to hurt you.

“ Why is that my dear?”

“ Well, isn't it lonely? You don’t know what is in the dark, you can’t see…It’s suffocating.”

Well, you were going to be killed and buried so… Alastor sighed, maybe he could put your body inside the lake? You would be able to see the moon each night and the sun each day. He looked in the direction of the lake, not too far ahead. The night was getting darker…

“ Well, follow me.”

You looked at him, he could see you were trying so hard for him to keep moving.

he couldn’t let his victims be scared of something else than him, right? He approached you before taking your hands in his and walking toward his destination. Your hand was warm against his, his skin was itching because of your contact… again. But it was okay, it was going to be the last time.

You followed him as he walked toward the lake. He turned his head toward you once you reached your destination. He wanted to see your reaction to the beautiful scenery. The lake was circled by fireflies that were flying near the water.

He observed as your eyes widened , the reflection of the fireflies’s light moving inside your eyes. You didn’t seem uncomfortable anymore about the darkness that was around you. You were focused on the scenery. You weren’t aware of his presence in the dark, ready to kill you.

He looked at his hand before reaching for his blade. He was being nice, killing you painlessly with a beautiful scene in front of you. You spinned toward him which made him hid his blade behind his back. You ran toward him and jumped on him, your arms around his shoulders, laughing, how so loudly.

“ Thank you sir, this is beautiful !”

He looked at you, as fireflies were flying behind you, almost making it seem like you had a halo above your head. He stared at your eyes that were shining like the stars in the sky tonight. You were being pretty again for him.

It was time to kill you.

His grasp on the blade tightened but as he was ready to dive his knife inside your throat you did something that made him freeze.

You kissed him.

Your eyes were closed as you pushed your lips against his. His heart was beating so fast he was almost worried he might explode. What were you doing to him? And why wasn’t he pushing you away?

You leaned back slowly, your cheeks flushed but you had a little smile on your face as you kept your gaze on the floor.

“ That’s… that's how you kiss someone, sir.” you statered, not even capable of looking at him as you said it.

He dropped the blade from his hand and stared at you with a smirk. You didn’t seem to hear the noise his weapon made, poor you.

“ Alastor.”

You lifted your head toward him, confused but with a little bit of hope.

“ Sir..?”

“ My name is Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure.” He said, bowing to you before kissing the back of your hand. Once he let go of your hand, he would kill you and this game between the two of you would stop. He would return to his life, without you in it. He would turn his back on the lake with the fireflies, this place that would be your grave.

“ Alastor…”

He raised his eyes toward you, a shiver going straight in his body. The way you said his name was so different from how the people around him said it. It almost reminded him of how his mother used to call him. With so much fondness…

He would kill you as soon as you let go of his hand.

Your eyes were shining through the night as you stared at him with happiness. You finally had his name, you must be happy..

“ Yes, dear?”

You beamed at him before repeating his name so loudly. You were so loud, so lively, weren’t you tired of doing this? He scrutinized your face as you blushed and giggled like a little girl. You were gripping his hand harder. Could you feel it was your last chance to stay alive? Keep your hand in his to stay alive ?

You were talking fast about anything that caught your eyes, mostly because you were still embarrassed, he could tell. You were swinging your hand with his, like the children that were walking hands in hands in the street.

“ Oh, Alastor, look, a deer !”

You pointed toward the woods and let go of his hand before walking carefully toward the noble beast.

Ah.

He kneeled to take back his blade with a soft smile. The game was coming to an end. He spinned the knife between his fingers before walking silently behind you. The deer was staring at you, taking every ounce of your focus. You didn't feel him coming behind you as you tried to talk to the deer to come closer.

He stared at your back as you explained information you had about deer. You really had information on the oddest things. You didn’t know he was a famous radio host but you knew that there were sixty species of deer and that they used their tail to communicate.

“ Alastor, did I make you discover something new that you enjoyed?” you asked, still trying to make the deer come closer to you.

He raised his knife above you, looking at you. Were you going to turn around or was he going to kill you while your back was facing him? Did you make him discover something new… that he enjoyed?

“ I don’t know, dear.”

“ Well, I should keep trying then.” You giggled.

“ I guess.”

He stabbed you in the throat, making you gasp. Your hands flew to your throat, trying to understand what was going on. He made sure he cut the artery so you wouldn’t feel pain. After all, he enjoyed this little game between the two of you.

He smiled before freezing as you turned your head toward him, looking at you with teary eyes and so much confusion inside them. Your hands were bloody because of all the blood that was pouring from your throat, you couldn’t breath, you couldn’t talk. You couldn’t be loud anymore.

He stared as you fell on the ground, your eyes closing to never open again. He smiled before crouching next to you, moving your hair from your face and he waited for the satisfaction to come.

He waited…

And yet it never came.

He was angry. Why? Maybe he wasn’t satisfied with how he killed you? He stood up, pacing while thinking. What did he do wrong? What did he do wrong? Why was the silence he longed to meet again so loud?

He stopped in his tracks, his breath harder than he remembered it. He turned his body toward your corpse, the blood leaving from your neck in a puddle. He fell to his knees next to you and took you in his arms, staring at your face.

Being silent didn’t suit you after all. You really were meant to be loud. Is that why he could hear almost everything louder than it was supposed to be? He never felt like this after killing someone, he didn't wish for them to open their eyes and smile at him.

So why was he wishing for this..?

Alastor, did I make you discover something new that you enjoyed?

It seemed like you made him discover something new, indeed… Those feelings that were still uncertain and foreign for him.

Did he enjoy those feelings? No.

But he enjoyed the time he had shared with you..

“ Here, a deer!”

He lifted his head up, almost thinking he heard your voice again. But the only thing he recalled was the sound of a loud shot and then a ridiculously extreme pain in his head. Well, he was used to having a headache because he was always thinking, but right now it was different.

His body fell on the ground, your body still in his arms. He was still smiling, his eyes darting everywhere but he couldn’t see anything. Were you the one who shot him? Did you come back for revenge?

“ Oh shit, it’s a human, fuck!”

He closed his eyes as the man panicked as he saw two bodies.

Well, it seemed like the game wasn’t as easy as he thought. He felt like he was on fire, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was still at the lake… But he was seeing the man shaking his body in front of him. What was going on?

He looked at his hand and saw that his hand had claws, he was wearing a reddish suit… He touched his hair and saw the red and black locks.

Oh, he must have died and he was going to be dragged to Hell. Well, a new playground.

He looked at your corpse, did you spirit already left?

“ Alastor..?”

He turned toward the lake and there he saw you.

You were floating above water, radiant like the sun with a halo glowing above your head. You were as confused as you were when he killed you.

But you were alive , so to talk. He could be with you in this life too. Even if your angelic figure made it obvious that you weren’t going to the same place as him. You were looking at your form, even touching your halo with a confused face.

He smiled at you as he walked toward you, stopping in front of the water.

“ Dear! I’m happy you are okay!”

“ I… I’m dead, Alastor… You killed me…” you said, taking a step back.

“ Did I?” He tilted his head. You seemed puzzled, you were not sure about what happened to you which made it easier for him to manipulate you. “ I’m dead too, aren’t I?”

“ This.. This is what I would like to understand.. What happened..?”

“ Well, dear. The man you just saw killed the both of us.” He said, spinning a microphone in his hand. Since when did he have this? “ I was watching the deer with you, but then this man shot me in the head, and then killed you with his knife. It was horrible seeing you in that state, it seemed like you were so shocked it ruined your mind. You were hysterical… So he killed you to make you shut up.”

His smile got wider as you looked at him with relief and pain. You approached him and hugged him which made him tense but this time he knew it wasn’t because he wanted to kill you. He still didn’t really understand it but he would learn those feelings… only if you stayed by his side.

“ It seems like we aren’t going to the same place.” you muttered with sadness.

“ Well, there might be a way, dear.”

He watched as you looked at him like he had the answers. He just wished for you to be chained to him, after all, he was the one who gave you to death, you were his to do what he wanted. But he didn’t know if you liked him enough to follow him to Hell… He had to force you.

“ But we can’t change God's will.”

You were right, he didn’t think he could fight God if he wanted to bring you to heaven. He needed to win time. He could feel himself tugged somewhere. It must be the same for you, Hell was calling him and Heaven was calling you.

He bowed to you, asking for your hand so he could place a kiss on the back of it.

“ Would you stay with me a little longer? ” He asked.

You smiled sadly at him before reaching for his hand. He didn’t know why, but he could feel power swirling inside of him and when you put his hand in his, he clawed at it. You gasped as wind swirled around the two of you. Alastor was confused before his smile got wider.

A green leash was appareating around your neck and the end of the chain was resting inside his palm. You tried to take off the collar but you couldn’t do anything and Alastor knew why.

As soon as you grabbed his hands, you made some kind of deal with him. You accepted a deal which was: Stay with me a little longer.

You didn’t know what you did, Alastor didn’t know how he made it but when he was pulled toward Hell, he couldn’t help but laugh as he saw you following him, falling like him, being strangled by the leash he desperately held on. You weren’t going anywhere.

You made him discover new things, you had to take responsibilities now. A new game had begun, but this time, you would be by his side as a player yourself, and not a victim. But it was your fault after all.

You made him fall for you, it was only right that you fell for him too.

236 notes · View notes

pedrospatch · 2 years

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a safe haven l one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After the events in Salt Lake City, Joel and Ellie are back in Jackson, Wyoming to start a brand new life in the safe haven; Ellie has a difficult time fitting in and adjusting in the community, but she finds a friend in you; Joel meets you for the very first time and strange new feelings instantly take root.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. AGE GAP (no specific age is mentioned, but reader’s in her late 20s/early 30s and Joel is 56). reader is basically an OFC but story is written in reader format and her physical descriptions are kept as vague as possible. i have my own face claim for her, but i will only ever share it under cuts and with disclaimers. reader is married, Ellie plays a very important role in the series, hints at her strained relationship with Joel but this will indeed be a fix it fic because he deserves it, okay?

word count: 8.1k

Jackson, Wyoming | June, 2024

Joel’s deep, dark brown eyes linger on you from across the town mess hall with sheer, almost unabashed curiosity. Then again, he doesn’t even realize that he’s staring.

It’s about half past twelve, the designated lunch break hour in Jackson, and the larger scale eatery, which for the last couple of years has been run by an older man named Seth and his two surviving adult sons, is alive and well, buzzing loudly with obnoxious, overlapping chatter.

The hall is almost over maximum capacity, packed to the brim with several members of the steadily growing community who had stopped in for a quick bite to eat before having to resume their daily work duties around the settlement. Or at least, a majority of them had, anyway. Others shamelessly try to milk their lunch hour for all that it’s worth and more, dragging it out and extending their allotted free time for as long as they possibly can before having to return to their scheduled tasks around the commune. They float about the place, socializing as if the mess hall had suddenly turned into The Tipsy Bison, the bar right across the road that’s also owned by Seth.

Somehow, by a stroke of sheer good luck, you’d managed to find yourself a smaller, unoccupied table nestled against the wall, away from all the hustle and bustle. It’s tucked away over in the furthest corner of Jackson’s busy and bustling makeshift canteen, near where the aluminum double doors that lead back to the kitchens are propped wide open for the mess hall staff who were coming in and out to replenish the dishes at the buffet.

You’re sitting at the table alone, your plastic lunch tray surrounded by an absurd amount of open books that Joel had very little choice but to assume came from the town’s modest, but decent sized library that he’d seen nestled between the schoolhouse and the old church, right behind Main Street. In between delicate bites of oven baked chicken and roasted vegetables harvested fresh from the gardens, you reach up and take the blunt, worn yellow pencil that’s tucked in the space behind your ear, using it to scribble on the notepad in your lap before putting the pencil back in its designated place. Although you’re clearly working through your lunch break today, that doesn’t stop you from being interrupted on several different occasions by numerous individuals—friends and familiar faces all approach you with hopeful expressions, eager to join you and keep you company.

Sure, the hall is full, but there’s still a number of available seats still left at other partially occupied tables nearby, bigger tables that aren’t crowded with books like yours, tables whose occupants aren’t busy working, studying—doing whatever it is that you’re doing. It becomes apparent to Joel that you’re something of a hot commodity around here. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s just something about you that reminds him of the sweet and popular small town girl his favorite country artists would sing about back in the day. The kind of girl with a magnetic presence and irresistible charm—the kind of girl that anyone can fall head over heels in love with in one way or another.

There’s something almost too endearing about the gracious way you offer up just the most saccharine smile and apologetic doe eyes as you point to your books, politely declining every offer for companionship that comes your way, saying something he can imagine to be along the lines of, not today or maybe another time. Eventually, after a while, you’re finally left alone to bury yourself back into whatever it is that’s keeping you occupied that you can’t even have your midday meal in peace—you’re so engrossed in the task that you don’t even notice the older, salt and pepper haired newcomer who’s been blatantly staring at you from his table over on the opposite of the hall for the last several minutes.

It’s not the first time Joel’s seen you around.

He still vividly remembers the moment when he’d first laid eyes on you several months ago during the winter season.

It had been the morning after his fight with Ellie, after she’d confronted him and he had been forced to fess up about his plans to hand her off to his younger brother, Tommy—he’d asked him, pleaded with him, to get her to the Fireflies in Colorado. Joel’s mind had been in an all out raging war, his heart torn between doing what he’d felt was best for Ellie and what he truly wanted, which was to remain by her side and get her to where she needed to be himself. But how the fuck could he do that when all he’d managed to do in the few months prior to their arrival in Wyoming was fail to protect her over and over again? Sure, Ellie was a teenager, now closer to being an adult than anything else, but she was still a child, one who needed to be protected, kept safe. She needed somebody who could get to where she needed to be in one piece, and Joel had come to the conclusion that, as much as he wanted to be that person, he simply wasn’t capable. Slower, older, his hearing getting worse and worse as the days go by, he feared he’d only end up getting her killed if she continued on with him, a scenario he fucking refused to let happen at all costs. He wouldn’t hold another child’s dead body in his arms, not again.

Following a very long and sleepless night of tossing and turning, Joel had pulled himself out of bed just after sunrise that morning. After getting dressed, he’d quietly slipped out of the house and made his way down to the horse stables, hoping he could leave the commune as soon as possible and without notice from Tommy—and especially without notice from Ellie. It’s not that he had wanted to leave without saying goodbye to her, but Joel knew he wouldn’t have it in him to follow through with the decision he’d made about parting ways with her if he saw her face again, not a fucking chance. And so there he’d been, in one of the stalls at the stables, saddling up the horse he planned to steal and take off on when you’d walked by, flashing him a warm and friendly smile, probably assuming he was just another patrolman getting ready to head out for the morning shift.

Joel had just stared at you, lips pressed together into a tight, thin line with an emotionless expression on his hard, stony face.

Of course, you were nothing more than a complete stranger who didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going through his mind. You couldn’t have possibly imagined what was happening to the tortured older man you’d just encountered, the way his inner turmoil was a single thought away from tearing him apart from the inside out. You’d probably just thought he was rude for not smiling back, or at the very least, offering you a courteous good morning.

He’d almost forgotten about you since then.

Almost.

It’d been rather difficult for him to forget all about the prettiest goddamn fucking face he’d ever seen since the world ended two decades ago—not even after all of the events that followed that fateful morning.

The next time Joel had seen you was on his second day back in Wyoming. He and Ellie had made a trip down to the produce market on Main Street to pick up some vegetables and jarred preserves to stock up the kitchen pantry of their new, forever home. He’d caught sight of you as you made your way down one of the aisles towards the sweet potato bins with a brown, woven basket hanging from one arm and a reusable shopping bag draped over the other. Before Joel even realized that he’d been staring, your kind gaze met his own from across the market and you smiled at him again.

Still just as warm, still just as friendly. And you were still just as fucking beautiful as he remembered.

Much like that winter morning in the horse stables, Joel didn’t smile back at you.

Two for fucking two—surely you must have thought he was a mannerless asshole at this point. He honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’d think the same.

Tommy, who had made it back from leading his morning patrol group just in time to join him for lunch, waves a hand in front of Joel’s face, looking thoroughly amused. “Maybe we should find you a goddamn camera,” he teases, letting out a small chuckle once he’d finally managed to break the older Miller’s trance, garnering his attention. “Y’know, so you can take a picture. It’ll last a hell of a lot longer.”

Joel scowls at his brother, though he says nothing.

He can’t very well deny that he’d been caught openly gawking.

“Shut up, Tommy,” is all he can come up with before taking a large bite of seasoned carrots, heat flooding his face. The way Tommy’s looking at him, with that mischievous glimmer in his eyes, it reminds Joel of their younger years, when Tommy would make it his mission in life to do anything that would cause him discomfort just for his own kicks.

“Hey, I don’t really blame you, y’know.” Tommy reaches over for his glass of sweet iced tea and picks it up, taking a long and refreshing sip. Smacking his lips together, he casually shrugs his shoulders, shooting Joel a knowing smirk over the top the glass as he comments, “She’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, ain’t she, big brother?”

“Watch it. Don’t think Maria would appreciate you sayin’ that kinda thing ’bout another woman who ain’t her,” Joel warns, cocking an eyebrow at him. His brother hadn’t always been the most faithful of partners in his first life, but Tommy truly seemed to be head over heels in love with his wife. Hearing him talk about another woman makes Joel wonder if perhaps remnants of his playboy ways still lingered behind even after twenty years. With Maria having just found out she was expecting his child, Joel certainly hopes that isn’t the case. “Eyes to yourself, asshole.”

Tommy shrugs again. “Ain’t no real harm in just takin’ a quick peek every once in a while,” he muses, although there’s a joking edge to his tone. Setting his glass of iced tea back down onto the table in front of him, he leans back into his chair and glances over at you. He lets out a long, low whistle, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh trust me, I get it, Joel—hell, every man around here gets it, fuckin’ single or not. She’s a real fuckin’ beauty, she is. But I should probably go ahead and warn you now that it’s best you don’t go gettin’ any ideas when it comes to that one.”

Before Joel can even stop himself, he finds himself asking, “Why’s that?

“Well for starters, that girl’s damn near half your fuckin’ age, you old fucker.”

Joel flips him off.

“Besides that, she’s already spoken for.”

“She’s got a boyfriend.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“She’s got a husband,” Tommy corrects him. “She’s a married woman, Joel. And here’s the real fuckin’ kicker. She’s married to Jackson’s only doctor.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes. “A real doctor? Or just some fuckin’ clueless prick who claims to be a doctor?” he questions, shoving another forkful of his carrots into his mouth.

The younger man laughs at the bitter skepticism, knowing that it’d come from a place of envy more than anything. “Real, Joel. The guy’s around my age, give or take a couple years. He was finishin’ up his medical school residency when the outbreak first happened, at least that’s what Maria says,” he explains. He notices the confusion flash across Joel’s face and continues to elaborate. “Two of them go way back, went to the same college before she transferred out to another school for her law degree. Maria came across him and his group one day while out lookin’ for supplies. She said he still knew his stuff after all these years and decided to bring him in as the community’s physician. He looks after everyone around here. Delivers the babies, stitches up wounds. Hell, I broke my arm in a stupid ridin’ accident last summer and he set the bone right back into place, had me good as new within a few weeks. S’a miracle we’ve got someone like him around here.”

Joel glances down at his plate, twiddling his fork between his thumb and his index finger. He would have been a goddamn dirty liar if he’d said that finding out you were a married woman didn’t bother him.

And to a fucking hero doctor nonetheless.

That only makes it sting a little harder.

Tommy immediately picks up on his brother’s disappointment in hearing the news about you being taken and softly kicks his shin with the toe of his boot underneath the table. “Y’know Joel, there’s plenty of other single women around here. Pretty ones, and real nice, too,” he informs him with a small smile. He pauses and then offers, “If you’re interested, I could introduce you around. Maria has this friend, her name is Esther and she’s a real cute blonde—”

“That’s the last thing on my fuckin’ mind,” Joel grumbles out in reply. He tightly shakes his head. “I just fuckin’ got here, Tommy. Besides, I’ve got Ellie that I need to take care of. We’re both tryin’ to get used to this place after bein’ out there on the road for so long. We’re still in the middle of gettin’ ourselves settled. The kid’s my priority right now—my only fuckin’ priority. Not meetin’ someone.”

Not wanting to push him too far, Tommy goes along with the subject change. “Speakin’ of Ellie, how’s she been doin’ by the way? Haven’t really seen much of her since you two got back.”

Joel hesitates, momentarily unable to meet Tommy’s eyes.

It’d been a couple of weeks now since the events that took place back in Salt Lake City.

Since the hospital.

Since the Fireflies.

Joel had certainly thought once or twice about confiding in Tommy about what he had done. How he had ruthlessly and without a single ounce of mercy killed all of those people in the hospital, how he had shot Marlene dead at point blank range—how he had violently and single handedly stopped what had most likely been humanity’s only chance at potentially finding a cure for the cordyceps infection by preventing the Fireflies from operating on Ellie and performing a brain surgery that would have killed her.

Joel doesn’t regret it, nor does he regret the choice he’d made on Ellie’s behalf.

He would do it all over again in a fucking heartbeat if it came down to it.

He doesn’t carry guilt over having done what he’d done, but he does carry the guilt of having lied to her about it after it was all said and done. He felt awful for looking her in the eye and swearing to her that everything he’d said about the Fireflies was true when it wasn’t. Ellie claimed to believe him, but he knew better than that. She was smart, too fucking smart for her own good. She might not have known the extent of it all, but she knew for certain that Joel wasn’t being entirely forthright about what had gone down in Salt Lake City while she’d been unconscious.

From that moment on the mountain, things had been quite tense between them. That conversation instantly caused a rift in their relationship, but Joel could tell she was doing her very best to force herself to fully believe that he was still a person she could trust, a person she could put her faith in. He took an odd sense of comfort in knowing that her forced efforts to keep believing in him had to have meant something good.

She didn’t want to give up on him or on their relationship.

Joel exhales a heavy sigh, finally answering the question. “Not too great,” he admits, quietly. “I’m real worried ‘bout her, Tommy. It’s been a couple weeks now since we’ve been back and she still hasn’t made one single goddamn friend around here. She doesn’t fuckin’ talk to anyone, barely even talks to Maria.” He sighs again, tiredly rubbing the side of his face with his free hand. “She spends most of her time hidin’ out in the stables with the horses. She would rather be around them than other people. She can’t live the rest of her life like that. I try to tell her she needs to put in more effort on her part, but she won’t fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Just give her some more time, Joel. After everythin’ that poor kid’s been through in her life, it ain’t a big surprise that she’s strugglin’ a bit to fit in around here, y’know?” Tommy notices the way his older brother’s jaw clenches and he offers him a look of sympathy. “Look, I know Ellie means a whole lot to you and if I were you, I would be real worried ’bout her too. But just give her a little more time to adjust. She’ll get there, I know she fuckin’ will. She’s a real strong kid, big brother.”

“Yeah, I know she is,” Joel murmurs in agreement. “Hell of a lot stronger than someone her age should have to be.”

“She’ll be just fine,” Tommy reassures him. “She’ll find her place here, Joel. Just wait. You’ll see.”

“I sure as hell fuckin’ hope you’re right.”

You relish the feeling of warm sunlight hitting your face.

Summer’s just beginning in Wyoming, and after a particularly long, cold and cruel winter that swept the western state this last year, you couldn’t have been more thrilled to see that warmer weather is well on its way.

At least, for now you’re thrilled.

Winters in Jackson were god awful, but summers could be just as brutal, if not worse.

Clutching the strap of your old, but sturdy brown leather satchel bag securely over your shoulder, you hurriedly make your way across the settlement from the mess hall and back towards the horse stables, the place you commonly referred to as your second home—it wasn’t all that much of a joke, seeing as you often spent more time there than you didn’t. It’s now after lunch hour, and there’s still plenty of work to be done before the end of the day rolls around, most of it which would undoubtedly trickle into the next day.

Being the only veterinarian in the community, there was always more than plenty of work to be done every day. Too much work to be done by one single person alone. Often, you find yourself feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. You feel like you’re completely in over your head, and it leaves you wondering if you’d made the right decision by taking such an enormous responsibility into your hands.

Then again, it’s not like you’d been given much of a choice. In a way, it had been expected of you.

Prior to passing away from illness two summers ago, your father had been the veterinarian who looked after the animals. Even though you hadn’t been trained professionally like he had, your father decided to spend the final years of his life teaching you to the best of his ability and with what little resources he had available. After all, Jackson was going to need someone to step up and take care of the animals when he was gone—particularly the hoses. Even as his physical health worsened, he used every last ounce of strength he had left in him to prepare you to take over for him when he died. Thanks to him and all he’d done for you, you certainly knew a thing or two, but the job was still daunting, even after all this time of being in practice on your own without him there to guide you like before.

Keeping the horses healthy to begin with made your job a hell of a lot easier, but when a horse became sick or injured, that was when your knowledge and your skills were truly put to the test. Horses were how everyone traveled when in search of needed supplies, how patrolmen and women moved around while they were out and about on watch keeping the community safe against the infected and against raiders. Horses were one of the most important, most precious resources the commune possessed. They kept everything going, everyone moving, and you’d be fucking lying if you said that being the sole person in charge of caring for them didn’t put a tremendous amount of pressure on your shoulders.

Sensing your doubt, Maria Miller often assured you that you were the best person for the role—the only person for the role. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she had complimented you over coffee at her place the morning after you had successfully removed a bullet lodged into the shoulder of one of the horses that had been injured while Tommy and his group were out on overnight patrol. They’d stumbled across violent and armed raiders, and luckily everyone had made it out unscathed with the exception of Tommy’s beloved black horse, Ranger. You recalled being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night to tend to him, the first serious case you had to take care of without your father’s guidance. Thankfully, the stallion’s injury hadn’t been life threatening, and you were able to patch him up within the hour. After just a few weeks of working with Ranger and putting him through physical therapy, the horse made a full recovery and both Maria and Tommy couldn’t have been more thrilled with your work.

Still, you still continued questioning your own abilities, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Both Maria and Tommy decided to assign you as Jackson’s equine veterinarian, pulling you from your previous job, which had been helping Seth make sandwiches at The Tipsy Bison.

You rush into the stables, making a mental list with the names of all the horses that you still need to check over for the day, including the group of horses that had just arrived back from that morning’s patrol. You make your way down to the very last stall which is serving as home to a stunning, chestnut-brown pregnant mare.

“Hi there, Stella,” you coo sweetly, beaming at the beauty. “Hi, my gorgeous girl. How are you doing today, sweetie pie?”

“I would be doing a hell of a lot better if I could have one of those apples in your bag,” a voice answers, startling you slightly.

Peering around Stella’s body, you catch sight of Ellie laying down on a small bed of hay in the furthest corner of the stall. She’d made something of a pillow out of her backpack, kicking back as she flips through her favorite superhero comic book for what had to be the hundredth time. She offers you a silly, lopsided grin the minute she takes a glimpse at the baffled look on your face. “Howdy.”

“Ellie,” you sigh her name softly. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Living my best life,” she deadpans. “What else does it look like I’m doing?”

You try but mostly fail, in hiding your laughter at her quick witted sense of humor. “Ellie,” you say her name again. “You can’t just hide out in here with the horses every single day, you know,” you point out, dropping your heavy satchel bag onto the ground. Stella lowers her head and gives it a sniff, no doubt smelling those apples you always carried around with you.

“Wanna bet?” The teenager quips with a small joking smirk as she sits up, tossing her comic book to the side. Bits of hay stick out of her brown hair, which she always keeps tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school with the other kids?”

She rolls her eyes. “I already went to school. Back in the Boston QZ. FEDRA’s finest, dude.”

You don’t know all that much about Ellie Williams—nor about the brooding older man that she’s here with, Joel Miller. The only thing you do know is that Joel happened to be Tommy Miller’s older brother and he acted as Ellie’s guardian. Initially, you’d thought he was her father, but Maria had told you that he had no familial relation to the girl, a fact that took you by complete surprise.

Their arrival in Jackson back during the winter season had the entire town talking—but by the following morning, the pair were gone, not to be seen again for several months until their return towards the end of spring just a couple of weeks ago. Rumors flew once the word of their return had gone around, but in reality, no one had the slightest clue about where they had gone or why they had left the safety of the commune’s walls in the first place. Not even Maria, who had failed in getting her husband to talk. She swore up and down Tommy knew something she didn’t, but he refused to spill his brother’s secrets, even to his own wife.

Like everyone else in the tight knit community, you were curious about Ellie, and you were especially curious about Joel. You’d seen him around a couple of times before, but hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet. Still, even without having spoken a single word to him, you already knew he wasn’t anything like Tommy, or anyone else you’ve ever encountered, really. A man of very few words, he kept to himself, just like Ellie did. Still, Joel knew he needed to find his place and pull his weight in Jackson just like everyone else, and once he began working patrol alongside Tommy, he finally began engaging with other members of the town.

Reluctantly so, but at the very least, he was trying.

Ellie, on the other hand, avoided everybody at all costs. Everybody, that is, except for you.

Since their arrival, Ellie chose to spend her days in the stables. She’d hang out with the horses while reading her comic books or listening to tapes on some old Walkman she had permanently borrowed from Tommy. Despite a hectic schedule that kept you busy, you eventually started taking the time out of your day to talk to her. It had started off with light chatter about the most trivial of things—how the day was going, whether or not the weather was nice outside, what had been served for lunch in the mess hall that afternoon. Ellie seemed almost annoyed with you at first, but after a couple of days, she’d quickly started warming up to you and by the end of the first week, she had started following you around the stables, joining you wherever you needed to be. The girl had taken a liking to you, but she was still quite guarded and careful, as if she were still testing the waters, figuring out whether or not you could be trusted.

You don’t mind that, though.

Little by little, simply by being kind to her and making the genuine effort to get to know her, you’re slowly beginning to chip away at her layers. There was still quite a long way to go if you ever wanted the teenager to completely open up to you, but you didn’t mind that either.

You’d be as patient with her as you needed to be.

You walk over to her. “Listen Ellie, as much as I really enjoy having you around me all the time, you really do need to make friends, you know.”

She blinks. “But you’re my friend.”

Even as you rephrase yourself, you can’t help but smile. “Friends your own age,” you remark, tucking the loose lock of your hair that had fallen loose from your dutch braid behind your ear. “You know, my husband, he has a niece named Dina. She’s about your age. I could introduce you to each other if you'd like?”

Ellie furiously shakes her head. “No.”

“Ellie—”

“Everyone around here looks at me like I’ve got two fucking heads or something. She probably fucking will too,” she mumbles. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I’d have an easier time fitting in around here if I was a fucking clicker.”

Chuckling, you gently shake your head at her.

By now, you’d pretty much gotten used to her rich and colorful vocabulary.

You crouch down in front of her. “Look Ellie, I know how hard it is not to fit in with others.”

“You?” Ellie blows a loud raspberry in complete disbelief. “No fucking way. I don’t believe that for one fucking second, sweet cheeks.”

“Hey, in case you didn’t know this, I haven’t always been this age,” you remind her, lightly swatting at the side of her knee with your hand. “I was fifteen once too.”

“Yeah, and you were probably little miss fucking perfect, just like you are now.” She rolls her brown eyes at you in a teasing manner. “I bet everyone just loved you.”

You swat at her knee again. “Oh, stop that. That couldn’t be any further from the truth,” you reply, wondering where this child had come up with the idea that you are, or had ever been perfect. “I was still living in one of the quarantine zones with my family when I was your age, Ellie. We were living in the Alburquerque QZ for quite a while before it got overrun by the infected. They had schools and everything, just like in Boston. My mother was a nurse, so she had the privilege of enrolling me in one of their better schools, a preparatory school—she had the hope that I’d become an officer so I could have a chance at a decent life.” You pause, noticing a strange glimmer flash in the girl’s eyes, but when she says nothing, you continue on, “So I got the absolute pleasure of going to school with a bunch of kids whose parents were officers and important higher ups in the zone. And let me tell you something, the world may have gone to complete shit, but teenagers can still be fucking assholes.”

Ellie throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Whoa! I never thought I’d hear you curse. I thought you were too fucking prim and proper for that.”

“I’m not all that prim and proper,” you counter, grinning at the way she continues to cackle. “Besides, spending all this time with you might just have me cursing like a fucking sailor by the end of the week.”

“Fuck yeah it will,” she agrees with a nod.

You grin again, but when your eyes meet Ellie’s, it falters slightly.

Ellie hadn’t told you much of anything about her past, but one thing was for certain—the young girl had been through hell and back. You could see it written all over her face, even when she smiled and even when she laughed. The traces of terror, pain, and trauma were quite subtle, but they were very much present and in recent nights, you’d find yourself lying in bed, wide awake and wondering what all this poor child had gone through in her life. Thoughts about what Ellie had seen, what and who she had lost in this world haunted you.

She’s different.

What she’d been through made her different.

It set her apart from the other children, especially those who don’t know what it’s like to live a life outside these four walls.

It pained you to know that she felt ostracized when you were willing to bet your life that whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been her fault.

Ellie Williams wasn’t your responsibility—you hardly know her. But you already care about her. An inexplicable soft spot for her had found its way into your heart from your very first interaction with her. If there’s anything you can do to help her ease into this new way of life, you’ll gladly do so without hesitation.

“So then,” Ellie finally says after a minute, looking up at you. “Is it, uh, is it alright if I keep coming to the stables to spend time with you and the horses?”

“Of course.” You rise to your feet and glance at Stella. “But only on one condition. You have to help me out with the grooming. I’ve been really short handed lately and could use the extra help. Deal?”

She jumps up to her feet, eagerly nodding her head. “Deal.”

Joel dumps his plastic tray and used dishware into the designated dirty dish bin before shoving his way through the doors of the mess hall. The air outside is still relatively cool, it’s crisp and fresh—but the temperatures are sure to get a hell of a lot warmer now that summer has officially arrived. Not that he minded.

He keeps his sights set straight ahead of him, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone who so much as even throws a glimpse in his direction.

People seem to be getting to him, but oftentimes, he still feels like a pariah. It’s almost like he’s some fucking feral stray cat that Jackson had adopted and taken into it’s home, willing to tame him, but still afraid that he could start tearing shit up at any given moment if they didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. He could handle that, though. It’s his Ellie he’s worried about. Between the survivor’s guilt she’d been dealing with on a daily basis and the way she was looked at in the community by everyone, Joel feared for her well being. He could only hope that Tommy was right about her just needing time and that eventually, she’ll find her place and he’ll have the chance to give her the most normal life possible under the circumstances.

It’s the very least Joel could do for her after all she’d been through in the last year—after what he’d done, how he had lied straight to her face. He fucking owed her that much.

Ellie deserved happiness, and he would do just about anything in his power to give it to her.

Joel arrives at the horse stables and makes his way inside. “Ellie?” He calls out her name. “Ellie? You in here?”

That’s when he hears her voice.

“Wait, what? Stella’s pregnant? I didn’t fucking know that!”

Rounding the corner into the very last stall, Joel sees Ellie standing there, her tiny little hand on the muzzle of a brown horse. In her opposite hand, she’s holding a mane brush. She isn’t alone.

He’s surprised to see you standing there beside her, your hands planted on your hips. You’re wearing a pair of well worn light wash blue jeans, the legs tucked into a pair of weathered black riding boots whose soles are completely caked with muck. Joel remembers you wearing an oversized, long sleeved red flannel shirt back in the mess hall, but it’s now off and tied around your waist, leaving you in a thin, cotton white tank top—the material fits snug on your frame, and Joel tries his hardest not to stare at the patch of bare skin that peeks between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans.

Christ.

You’re even more beautiful up close.

Fuckin’ get a grip, Miller, he thinks silently to himself.

“She sure is,” you reply to her question with a wide grin. “We just found out about a week ago and believe she’s about a few weeks along. We’ll have a sweet new baby in a year.”

“What? No fucking way!” Ellie exclaims, looking thoroughly excited, but bewildered by the fact. “Horses are pregnant for a whole year? Holy shit man, that’s fucking nuts!”

“Well, for eleven months,” you clarify for her, giving Stella a gentle, but firm pat on her muscular neck. “This is Stella’s first one. We’re hoping for a smooth pregnancy that reaches full term, but sometimes babies decide to come a bit sooner than expected.”

Curiously, Joel’s lips part and his eyes widen slightly.

He can’t fucking believe it.

Ellie hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone in two weeks and yet here she is, engaging with you so easily and so effortlessly, cracking the first genuine smile he’d seen since they had fed that giraffe back in Salt Lake City. More than that, Ellie is being herself, cursing up a storm and all, and you don’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it, not like the other adults whose jaws would drop in utter horror at her use of such foul language.

Joel wills himself to move and steps inside of the stall. He lightly clears his throat. “Ellie.”

You and Ellie both turn around, glancing in his direction.

“Joel? What are you doing here?” she asks, her smile fading slightly.

“Lookin’ for you. It’s lunchtime. Y’need to go eat somethin’ kiddo.”

She holds up the brush in her hand. “But we were just about to—”

He stops her with a stern glare. “Lunch. Now. Go.”

“Fine,” Ellie huffs and rolls her eyes at him. Picking up her red and tan backpack from the ground, she hands you the mane brush and stomps out of the stall, roughly shoving into Joel’s shoulder as she pushes past him without another word.

Joel glances at you, a sudden wave of awkwardness washing over him. Just as he’s about to politely excuse himself and leave, you speak.

“You’re Tommy’s older brother, right? Joel?”

He nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Stepping away from Stella, you walk over to Joel and introduce yourself, extending a hand for him to shake.

Your name is as beautiful as you are and it sounds heavenly when he repeats it, rolling smoothly off his tongue. He takes your hand in his own and the contrast between the two is stark. Your hand is soft against his rough, small compared to his large, but somehow still an all too perfect fit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Joel.” Your eyes find his, meeting them in a way that makes something inside of him that had been sleeping for decades now stir itself awake—it’s a feeling that’s too foreign for him to pinpoint.

Realizing he’s been holding onto your hand longer than necessary, he drops it and takes a step back, lightly bumping his back against the stall door. “I’m—uh, I’m real sorry ‘bout Ellie,” Joel apologizes to you after a minute. “I know she’s been spendin’ a lot of time in here. I hope she hasn’t been botherin’ you or gettin’ in the way of things. If she is, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“No, no. Of course not. She hasn’t been bothering me at all,” you quickly assure him without missing a beat. “I’m usually in here alone, so it’s actually been really nice having her around. I enjoy her company a lot.”

“You do?”

You toss him a puzzled, but amused look. “Is that so strange?”

Joel places his hands on his hips and leans back against the stall door. “Ellie’s been havin’ a little trouble,” he confesses. “Adjustin’ to life here and meetin’ people. She, uh—she ain’t like all the other kids around here, y’know?”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline—exactly how well had you and Ellie gotten to know each other already? What all had she told you? What did you know about her?

What did you know about him?

Joel tries to mask the concern on his face.

“I was just talking to her a little while ago. I told her I know how hard it is being a teenager and trying to fit it in with the crowd, even in a world like this one.” You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head, the ridiculousness of what you’d just said sounding sillier out loud than it had in your mind. “It’s even harder when you’re just so different.” You detect the way that your statement triggers something of a negative response from Joel—the way his eyes darken in a flash of anger and his nostrils flare slightly tell you he doesn’t take all too kindly to anyone talking negatively about his kid. Ellie being different is something that he already knows, of course, but hearing it from someone else isn’t easy for him, and it certainly isn’t welcome. It puts him right into protective mode and you don’t blame him, not in the slightest. You hold your hands up and reassure him, “There’s nothing wrong with being different, by the way.”

Joel sees the sincerity in your eyes that go hand in hand with your words and his defenses switch off almost as quickly as they’d switched on. “There isn’t,” he agrees with a careful nod of his head. “Nothin’ wrong with it at all.” He clears his throat. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just that I don’t really like it when people start runnin’ their mouths ‘bout my kid, that’s all.”

Waving a hand, you assure him, “No need to apologize at all, Joel.”

Little by little, he starts relaxing. Taut and tense muscles that have been wound up for years and years are suddenly beginning to loosen. All it’s taking is being in your presence and talking to you. Joel suddenly understands why Ellie’s taken such a quick liking to you.

You’re unlike anyone that either of them had ever met before. You’re bright and you bring about this warmth—a different kind of warmth Joel hadn’t felt in so fucking long. It feels like seeing the sun for the very first time after spending years and years trapped in a cold, cold darkness.

He glances around the stall. “So, uh—what’s the deal? You one of the stable hands around here or somethin’ like that?”

“Something like that,” you repeat after him, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at the way he speaks with a heavy, but still incredibly charming Southern drawl. “I’m the veterinarian here in Jackson.”

He chuckles. “Y’mean, those still exist?”

“Sort of. My father used to be the veterinarian here,” you explain to him. “That was what he did for a living before the outbreak happened. We lived in New Mexico on a horse ranch when I was growing up—he started off as a stable hand and then he went back to school to become an equine veterinarian. When we got here a few years ago from one of the quarantine zones, he told Maria what he had done for a living before this and he was asked to care for the horses in exchange for our place here.”

“And you?” Joel can’t help but wonder out loud. You seem quite young, can’t be older than your late twenties or early thirties at most, which would still have made you a child when the outbreak happened. “No offense darlin’ but you seem a little bit too young to have gone to vet school before shit hit the fan.”

Darlin’.

He doesn’t mean to call you that. But it’s too late—and you don’t appear bothered by it.

Instead, you laugh, and the sound is like a gorgeous melody he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life if given the chance. “No, I definitely did not go to veterinary school. Actually, my dad taught me everything I know.” You speak fondly of him as you continue to say, “He educated me. Well, as best as he could considering the circumstances and all. He gave me a ton of books that I could read and study from, but most of it was hands-on training. He tried to teach me all that he could before he died a couple of years ago.”

Joel frowns. “Oh. Sorry to hear ‘bout your dad.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He peers at you, wondering what had happened to him.

“He died of illness,” you tell him, as if having read his mind. “Cancer, we think it was, but we obviously can’t know for sure without proper testing. And before you say it again, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head at him as you change the subject and ask, “So, how are you settling in?”

“S’been alright, I reckon. Real different from what I’m used to—from what we’re both used to,” Joel answers, referring to Ellie.

“I can imagine it is. It took me a while to get used to this place when I first got here too. It’s such a different way of life, especially when you lived under FEDRA control for so long,” you empathize with him, sighing as you drop your arms back down at your sides. “You stay just a couple of houses down from Tommy and Maria, right?”

“Yeah, we’re two doors down in the brown and greenish lookin’ unit.”

“I’m in the light blue and white cottage right across from them,” you inform him, your pretty eyes twinkling as you give him a smile. “I guess that kind of makes us neighbors, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s stomach somersaults.

If you didn’t stop smiling at him like that, there was going to be a problem.

“It does,” he manages to say. Remembering Tommy’s warning from earlier, he decides it would be best for him to leave—and the quicker, the better because he’s beginning to notice how fucking easy it is to fall under your spell. He pushes himself away from the stall door. “I should probably get goin’ now. Got evenin’ patrol,” he says. “Listen, uh, I really appreciate you spendin’ time with Ellie and bein’ so kind to her. Thank you for that.” He gives you a small grateful nod and turns on the heel of his boot to leave the stall.

“Joel?”

He stops dead in his tracks, his back stiffening slightly.

The sound of your soft voice saying his name is sweet like pure, raw honey.

If he isn’t careful, he’ll become addicted to it—he fears he already is.

Swallowing harshly, Joel turns back around to face you. “Yeah?”

“We’re having this big get together tomorrow night in the barn that’s right across the way,” you say, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. Through the small round window in the stall, he can see the very barn you’re talking about. “We do it every single year on the first day of summer. We do it for the kids more than anything, but everyone comes out.” There’s a subtle hint of shyness to your tone. “I’m not sure if Tommy or Maria have mentioned it to you yet, but there’s going to be a big barbecue, drinks, and even dancing. The whole nine yards.”

Joel has to bite back a small scoff of disbelief. “You serious?”

“Hey, the world might have ended, but people still know how to get down and party,” you joke. You observe the genuinely perplexed look that crosses his face and giggle. “I know it must sound really bizarre. But it’s a lot of fun and it’s a great way to really get to know the folks around here. I think it would be great if you and Ellie both came.”

“Ain’t too sure if it’d be Ellie’s thing. Or mine,” he admits, raking a hand nervously through his hair at the thought.

“You won’t know unless you give it a shot, Joel.” You gift him with another brilliant smile that just about makes his heart stop inside his chest. “Please?”

Joel hardly knows you.

Hell, up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t even known your fucking name—how is it possible that he can’t say no to you? A complete fucking stranger?

He thinks about it. He doesn’t like the idea of having to interact with anyone outside of his patrol duties, but if going to the damn thing means seeing you again, then he’s willing to at the very least give it a shot.

“Maybe we’ll both stop by for a bit and check it out,” he finally replies, exhaling a sigh of defeat.

“Great!” You beam happily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Joel repeats, giving you one last nod before turning and leaving the stall.

As he leaves the stables and heads home, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards at the mere thought of seeing you tomorrow night.

Shit.

Yeah, he’s in fucking trouble.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller hbo #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash

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hedgehog-moss · 2 years

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I felt sorry for the llamas in the past few days, watching them rummage around in the snow with their cold hopeful noses, trying to find a few blades of grass (I mean, they could do as Pirlouit does and stand under my window all day looking sad and waiting for hay, but they like to keep busy) so I promised them I would let them out to eat the brambles near my house as soon as the snow thawed a little. No one had left the pasture since the advent of the new fence and they deserved a little treat.

Then it snowed again last night and I thought oh no, another day of not keeping my promise, and I went out in the icy darkness in my pyjamas to share an apology clementine with them.

(I discovered that Pampe also thought Poldine deserved a little treat in this weather and was letting her nurse even though she’s been weaning her more and more firmly lately. Aw.)

But then this morning the temperature went up a bit and the snow melted rapidly. True to my word, I held the door open for a confused Pampérigouste and let her escape her pasture legally.

Yes! You’re also free to stay nearby and free to come back in a couple of hours. It’s scheduled freedom, you’ll love it.

Pirlouit had the hay net all to himself and Pampy looked a bit envious, before realising there were more interesting things to eat on her side.

It was cold and I went back inside and found Merricat like “finally, my favourite channel is back”

I sent this photo to a friend who said “you didn’t halter any of them?” No! Absolutely no need because I am an Olympic gold medallist in bringing llamas back to their pasture. I have developed so many strategies. Offering them treats in their own llama dish is often perceived as a perfidious gesture in this context, they’re like we’re not stupid you’re obviously trying to lure us back to our pasture—so I sat at the outdoor table like oh this is ideal weather to eat lunch outside, I sure hope no one bothers me while I eat my delicious lunch of pumpkin rinds and old apple cores and then I was surrounded by llamas and I was like nooo I guess I’ll go eat my lunch in the pasture where you won’t dare to follow me!!

All in all it was a very successful outing, everyone stayed very near the house feasting on brambles then went back to the pasture willingly enough and the cats were entertained! Next time I’ll leave the gate open and go hide somewhere to let Pampe feel the thrill of delinquency. (And if you’re wondering why Pirlouit wasn’t invited, it’s because I wanted to focus on the llamas and be able to tackle Pampe if she tried to run, but I often take Pirlouit on bramble-eating outings in the woods just the two of us, so this is not another instance of donkey discrimination.)

#crawling along

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iamqueenpotato · 1 year

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I Hate That I Love You - Part Seven

A/N- Hi guys! Surprisingly I wrote this one way quicker than I thought. I hope you guys enjoy! It is also very late where I'm at so if there are some errors, I tried my best to proof read it but there may be some things I missed. I appreciate all the support you guys have given me! Love you!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Angst(But like what's new lol)

Part One Part Eight

It had been three days.

Three days since Azriel spoke to you, three days since he finally told you how he felt, but even though your reaction was justified, it still hurt him. The disappointment on your face was burned into his mind, his shadows kept whispering your name, your moans a constant echo in his thoughts.

He knew he made a mistake when he chose Elain, but a friend is all he thought you saw him as. He tried to move on with her. You never once showed any interest, but that day you admitted those feelings he saw how wrong he was. And by the time the truth came forward he was stuck in a place that he could not easily break free from.

You were-are his best friend, even if you didn't think so, he still saw you as that. But who knew the two of you shared the same fears of ruining the relationship you had. He hated that he was so blind to your affections.

Azriel should have noticed sooner, he should have taken that risk and told you long ago how he felt about you. But he was a fool and let his fears stand in the way of what could have been. And he made you feel unimportant, neglected. Something he could never forgive himself for, he should have paid more attention to you.

The situation he currently was in was all his fault. When you had left the first time he was devastated, not only for the fact that he had lost his best friend, but that you had reciprocated those feelings Azriel thought to never had existed. He should have confessed then and there, he should of begged more to keep you from leaving, he should have never chose Elain over you, it wasn’t fair to either of you with the mistakes he had made. He should have tried harder to fight for what he wanted.

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized Elain and him did not fit together. She was sweet and caring, and she meant well but he never felt as though he could tell her everything, as though he could never be transparent about the things he goes through. At the end of the day it only seemed she was a body to keep his bed warm, and he felt terrible to even think of her in such a way.

But with you it was different. Elain would always cower away and be visibly disturbed when he would explain the things he had done for his missions, Always claiming how maybe he shouldn’t do such things anymore, then perhaps it wouldn't be an issue. And maybe she was right, but it never made him feel better. He knew the things he had done were graphic, he knew the horrid things he’d put others through for information, and at the end of the day all he wanted was someone to talk to about it, Elain could never be that person.

But you always have been.

He vividly remembers the first time coming to your room after a mission that had put more blood on his hands. It wasn’t the torture or killing that bothered him, it was the feeling afterwards that broke him, the hollowness he felt, the disappointment that he experienced that never went away. One night it swallowed him, he was in his room, washing away the blood of a few males he was instructed to interrogate when the feelings crept on him like a dark fog, he couldn’t breathe, only able to stare at his blood stained hands, he felt like a monster. He knew those men deserved it and he found their deaths to be satisfying. But maybe that made him more of a horror than he could ever imagine.

He made it to your room in the midst of his panic attack, pounding on the door still in his leathers, blood all over him. And when you opened the door, you did not look at him with anger or disgust. He must’ve woken you that night, based on the tiredness in your eyes and the mess your hair was in, but you didn’t yell at him nor push him out. Instead you brought him in, he didn’t even have to say a word for you to understand what he needed. You brought him into your bathroom, wiping the blood off his hands, his face, out of his hair. You were so gentle when it came to him, it was something he never experienced before. You ran a bath for him, telling him to finish up and you would be waiting outside. And when he came out he found you sitting in front of the fire, two cups of tea in front of you, he sat on the opposite side of the couch tentatively grabbing the tea from your hands. And then he talked about everything. Every last gory detail of his kills, the pain he felt inside. You did not flinch, nor did you tell him to stop because you were disturbed, you sat and listened, holding his hand the entire time. The hands that brought so much death, but you held on to them so tightly that he wanted you to never let go. He could live in that moment, his fingers interlaced with yours if that meant you would never leave his side. You never once criticized his choices. He didn’t feel alone for the first time in his life. And he never felt alone knowing he had you.

It was a memory that he had cherished. He had many fond memories of you, but that one always stood out to him. And now looking back, that was the start of his love for you.

Azriel didn’t realize he was crying as he watched the memory playback in his mind until he was brought back to reality as the clock in his room struck at the new hour. He didn’t bother wiping his tears away, he let them fall, he let his pain show.

He and Elain are to be wed in a little over an hour. But deep down he knew he couldn’t go through with it. He tried to end it, but between being sent on last minute missions and Elain celebrating with her friends and sisters, he never found the chance to speak to her about it. He needed more time, he needed a chance to sit alone with his thoughts, he did not want this wedding he knew that as much, but it wasn’t an easy thing to just end.

You were a sensitive topic to bring up around Elain, he never knew why, since he had never once mentioned his feelings to anyone but each time he spoke his emotions about missing you, she would become aggravated and want to change the subject, or climb on top of him to distract him. How was he supposed to claim the reason he can’t be with her was because of you? He didn't want to hurt her either but to fix what he had broken it was a choice he would have to make. Because he has never loved someone as much as he loves you.

He was sitting alone in front of the windows as his body shook with sobs. He felt so stupid, so naïve to have made such mistakes. He had something amazing in front of him the entire time, and he fucked it all up.

There was a knock at the door, his shadows alerting him of his brother standing on the other side. “What do you want, Rhys?” Azriel called out, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. But Rhys let himself into his room, not saying a word until he sat down next to him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your wedding?” Rhys asked, wiping away lint from his jacket.

“I am not going through with it.” Azriel spoke silently.

“Good.” Rhys stated, and Azriel looked at him confused, Rhys continued. “You know I will support you through it all Azriel, but your choices have been quite questionable lately. I know you mean well with Elain, but she is not the one for you brother. She never was.”

“I know that now. I think I’ve always known. It just took some time to see the truth.” Azriel leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm.

“So what are you going to do about it then?”

“I have to find Elain, tell her the truth. Then hopefully Y/N will have the heart to forgive me one day.” Azriel stared up at the ceiling, attempting to keep his tears at bay. His only goal was to gain your forgiveness. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the thought of you rejecting the bond.

“Well it is quite the day to do so, quite dramatic if I may point out.” Rhys gave a lighthearted chuckle, before leaning forward on his legs.

“I wanted to do it earlier but I hadn’t found the time.”

Rhys nodded, a silence falling between them before he spoke again. "I won’t lie, I enjoyed seeing you feel only part of what Y/N has felt for the last couple years.”

“Years? Fuck.” Azriel pondered the reality of it, years you had felt something for him when he had never noticed, he had made you feel such pain for so long, he didn’t deserve another chance with you, he didn’t deserve you at all. You were this light to him, and the darkness of his mistakes suffocated it. “Rhys, how do I take back what I have done? How do I make Y/N believe she is the one I want.” Even if it took years or even decades he would spend his entire life trying to make it up to you.

“Well first I believe you need to end an engagement to my sister-in-law. After that, I believe that is a conversation you need to have with your mate. And pray she gives you another chance.”

Azriel knew those things, but there was still one question sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Where did you send her, Rhys?” Azriel fidgeted with the loose string of fabric on the arm rest.

“Do you promise not to interfere?” Rhys questioned and Azriel nodded. “I sent her back to Windhaven.”

Azriel shot out of his chair. “Windhaven!” He paced back and forth in his room, “With no escort? No protection?”

“You of all people should know Y/N can handle herself brother.” Rhys did not look bothered, and Azriel knew the skills you possessed but if something went wrong and you got hurt, he would never forgive himself. He began walking to the door but Rhys’s voice stopped him. “Where are you headed?”

Azriel didn’t bother to look back at his brother. “I will not interfere, I just need to make sure she is safe.” He opened the door but was immediately greeted by Elain and her sisters. “Elain. Hi.” Azriel forced out, his voice quiet and hoarse.

“We are supposed to be getting married soon, what are you doing sulking around?” Elain bit out, her sister's eyes going wide at the sudden volume of her tone. Azriel sighed. “Is this because of that whore?”

“What?” Azriel looked down at her, anger flashing in his eyes. “What did you just say?”

“Y/N, is this because of her? You heard me correctly.” Elain crossed her arms in front of her chest, with no remorse for her words.

“Elain.” Nesta snapped, but her sister ignored her.

“Were you going to never share the fact that you kissed her or that you wanted to fuck her? Was that information supposed to be a secret?” Elain continued on, and the anger only grew within Azriel, how dare she speak of you in such a way. She had no right to call you such slurs. “We were better off when she wasn’t around. She put a damper on our relationship, we were much happier when she ran off the first time, she should have stayed away.”

“Enough!” Azriel snapped, and Elain stumbled backwards, shocked to see him react in such a way. “You do not speak of her that way, Elain. Y/N did not do anything to impede on our relationship, I was the one that kissed her. Me. She was the one who thought it wasn’t right. Do not spread such lies about her. Now if you don’t mind I need to be on my way.” He pushed past Elain. Nesta and Feyre moved out of his way as he stepped into the hallway, moving further away from his room.

“Do not take another step, Azriel, or the wedding is off.” Elain yelled down the hall. As if were a threat, as if he would continue his life with her after the things she had said.

“Call it off Elain.” He knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t something that involved her anymore. And the one thing he thought would be hard to confront, fell off his tongue with such ease.

“How dare you? After all that we have been through? You would end that for her?” Elain stormed toward him down the hall, he did not move, he would stand his ground, for you and for himself.

“Yes.” He eyed down Elain, shock and hurt across her features. “I have loved her for years Elain, and I thought I lost her when she left, that I would never have a chance to ask for forgiveness and I am sorry I led you on, I am sorry I let it get this far. But she is my purpose, she is the one that holds my heart. So throw your worst at me Elain, scream, curse, hit me for all I care but know nothing is stronger than the love I have for her, my soul yearns for her. Nothing will ever change that. I should have never hidden my feelings for her. I made a mistake and I am truly sorry that it has affected you so, but Y/N is my best friend, my other half and I should have never put her second.” It felt like such a relief to say those words out loud, to finally let the truth free.

“I saw this coming. I knew you would choose her.” She spoke loudly, as if she had always doubted him from the start.

“Then why are you shocked?” He spoke coldly, not afraid of the consequences anymore.

“You bastard.” Elain cursed, raising her hand to slap Azriel across the face, and he stood there, ready to accept it, she could hit him all she would like, but he would not change his mind.

Suddenly a sharp pain flowed throughout his body, like he was just thrown across the room, as if his body was being dragged along sharp rocks. Azriel collapsed onto his knees, bracing himself with his arms as the agony came and went like a gust of wind.

He felt like someone was screaming in his mind, calling out for help, reaching for him, and that thread tugged within his chest, fear and pain rushing down the bond. “Y/N.” He choked out, panic lacing his voice. He was gasping for air, clutching his chest with one hand while the other kept him from collapsing.

“Azriel what is going on, what just happened?” He felt Feyre’s hand on his shoulder. Noticing the small crowd that formed around him.

He looked up toward his high lady, his breathing still rapid. His shadows circled around him, whispering horrid things in his ear. Mate. Hurt. Panic. Injured. Trapped. “Something’s wrong, terribly wrong.” He pulled at the bond, but there was no response, just emptiness. “Y/N is in trouble.” His heart began racing, fear filling his thoughts.

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into his shadows, heading directly for Windhaven.

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#Azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #shadowsinger x reader #shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar #reader insert #x reader #azriel x you

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captainwinterrsoldierr · 5 months

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you'll be ok

jason grace x fem!reader

Authors note: I haven’t written in a while I’m sorry if this is meh also it’s in y/n (you perspective)!

Warnings: None

syn: jason is feeling overwhelmed with who he should be and who he wants to be.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was midnight as the Argo ii sailed across the seas. The night was beautiful. The waters reflected the jittery stars in the sky. Jason sat at the edge of the ship, his head on his knee. He looked as he felt, troubled and a sense of confusion. All these made up memories, feeling more at home at a different camp than where he was raised. He felt conflicted on what he should feel.

Y/N restlessly flipped in her bed. It was like this lately. Not being able to sleep until the cracks of dawn. She sighed heavily, grabbed a blanket and got up and made her way down the halls of the Argo II. Small snores and swoons were heard in the dark hallway. She noticed one door was open, Jason’s. She mentally noted that and went up the stairs leading to the outside of the ship. As her eyes adjusted to the night light she noticed the blonde guy missing from his quarters sat at the bow of the ship. She made her way over to him and noticed he looked distressed and deep in thought.

“H-hey Jason,” You said. Jason slightly jumped at the sound of her voice, startled that someone else was up at this time of night.

“Sorry sorry didn’t mean to make you jump!” Y/N exclaimed.

Jason patted next to him acknowledging for her to sit, “no please sit down I’m sorry I just wasn’t expecting anyone else out here.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “are- are you ok?”

Jason smiled softly, “yes- no I’m ok I don’t want to burden you.”

Y/N slapped his shoulder lightly, “you can never ever burden me Jason. Whatever is bothering you, you can talk to me ok? I’m here for you, always.”

Jason sighed and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, “I’ve just been feeling stressed ever since leaving Camp Jupiter and the Argo II accidentally attacking there. They probably think I’ve outright betrayed them without knowing the truth. And it’s just been making me think who am I? And who do I want to be? Roman, Greek? How many more false memories do I have? It’s all very overwhelming.”

You listened inventively. Your heart ached for him and how you wish you can just take even a half of his pain away from him. He was a puppet to so many and you wanted to help him. Help him find who he deserves to be, and help him find his peace.

You scooted closer and wrapped your blanket across his legs to keep him warm. You placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his blue eyes. “I think Jason Grace is who Jason Grace is. a loving, selfless, kind soul who will help anyone in need. Someone who wouldn’t think twice of sacrificing himself for his friends. And that Jason, that’s something not even fake memories can take away from you. That’s just who you are. The rest of this will come as you navigate this newfound freedom outside of Camp Jupiter. There’s no harm in being both. It will come and you’ll know when it hits you. You’ll be ok I promise.”

Jason pulled your hand off his shoulder and held it softly in his hand, “Thank You Y/N, that makes me feel better, I’m grateful to have someone like you in my life.”

You smiled at him warmly, “of course dummy and if you ever need a reminder of how sweet and awesome you, my quarters is hmmm? 2 doors down from ya….. on the right side.”

He chuckled and surprisingly leaned in to kiss the top of your forehead, “I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

You blushed softly, “I hope you do.”

#pjo #jason grace #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #percy pjo #pjo tv show #jason grace x reader #jason grace imagine #jason grace fanfic #heroes of olympus #jason grace headcanon

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cursedonyx · 1 year

Text

So apparently it's Kinktober and today's prompt is dryhumping?

Sure, why not?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: NSFW (MDNI), dubcon (but not really), regret, Horny!Ominis, somnophilia, I guess?

Everyone is aged up 18+

An unedited stream of consciousness because it’s my birthday and I don’t care FU have horny Ominis.

It was a regular thing, now, to fall asleep together. It hadn’t been before, when life was a turmoil of fear for his best friend and the path he was following. But that was then. This was now.

Ominis curled around the new student, only she wasn’t so new anymore. They were in their final year of Hogwarts, and sometime in the last sixteen months, they’d started dozing off together. At first, it was only in History of Magic, the monotonous drone of Binn’s voice the perfect antidote to his insomnia. Soon enough, however, with all the extra-curriculars MC continued to get up to, she was as exhausted as he was, and their conversation would wane as they tired, eventually slumping, shoulders together, falling asleep in any old part of the castle.

And sometime in those months, he wasn’t quite sure when, but he’d started… feeling something. Something he wasn’t quite sure he was supposed to feel. Perhaps it was protectiveness? He certainly cared for her, she’d become very important to him after all she’d done, trying to stop Sebastian’s relentless dance into Darkness, then convincing him to keep his best friend’s secrets, salvaging their friendship when he thought it couldn’t be saved.

Sebastian was away at St Mungo’s now, training to be a Healer, a part of the work-experience program Hogwarts offered to its final-year students. He missed him, certainly, but he was also privately very glad. He had MC all to himself.

Perhaps this feeling was possessiveness, then? That couldn’t be right, she was a free spirit, and to tether such a creature would be wrong… especially to a Gaunt, of all things. She deserved so much better than him. But he couldn’t deny the searing jealousy he felt when he heard her laugh at one of Garreth’s stupid jokes, making him want to tear her away and hiss at the bastard, or make her laugh himself with something so cutting no one could hope to compare. But at times like that, even his dry wit failed him, leaving him speechless and raging on the inside.

Then what was it?

He nuzzled his face into her hair. She’d drifted off beside him on the sofa in the Room of Requirement, her essay falling from her hand as they’d studied late into the night, and he’d pulled a blanket over them both, settling down behind her. She smelled of autumn mornings and crisp pine. His tongue crept out, capturing his lower lip and bringing it between his teeth, listening to her soft, steady breathing.

Merlin damn it all… she was delightfully soft, and yet deliciously hard, a firm muscle under the layers of her peachy skin from hours of sprinting all over the Highlands.

One of his hands was caught under her head, his fingers winding through her hair. He gripped softly, giving it a gentle, experimental tug. Would she make a sound if he pulled her hair roughly? Probably. But what sound? Could he dare to make her make it?

He let out his breath slowly, not realising he’d been holding it, and she shifted in her sleep, her firm backside pressing against him, and Ominis froze.

Ah.

That’s what that feeling was.

Unbridled, insatiable, uncontrollable lust.

He gritted his teeth as he felt himself stirring as she shifted again, wriggling her backside against him with a gentle sigh. That movement woke his arousal with a fury and suddenness so shocking he almost gasped. But he couldn’t do anything about it. He mustn’t. MC was his friend, for Merlin’s sake! To cross such a line would be… would be… damn it, it was getting difficult to think, what with her moving her arse against him like that! He moved his hand from the sofa where it rested, lifting it slowly and tracing along her arm, finally resting on the perfect curve of her hip. He closed his eyes, listening to her breathing, pulling ever so gently at her side, pressing her against him.

It was all he could do not to groan as he felt the curve of her behind through his trousers, the hard lines of his cock finding the crease almost instinctually, and it twitched, almost begging to be freed from the cruel, fabric confines of his clothing.

Sebastian would be furious if he did anything. Not that he was with MC, he’d never staked that particular claim, but even he could see the other man’s infatuation with her. He was probably waiting for the end of the year to ask her out. Ominis didn’t want to get in the way of their happiness if that’s what he was planning, because it was rather obvious she liked him too.

But then… Ominis bit back another soft groan as he tilted his hips forward, pressing against her, rubbing himself against the softly yielding flesh of her behind. Why in Merlin’s name did she have to wear such a flimsy skirt? He could damn near feel everything! She seemed to like him as well, even though such a thought seemed impossible. Merlin damn her, she’d even kissed his cheek the other day, her lips far too close to the corner of his mouth to be proper!

And she was a heavy sleeper.

Trying to control his breathing, Ominis pressed himself against her again, his hand firmly at her hip, holding her in place as he buried his face in her hair, the gentle scent of her skin driving him wild as he thrust, very slowly and gently, rubbing his cock over her arse, wishing he could just take it out, that she’d wake up and take it in her hand, her mouth, or…

He hissed something, a garbled string of Parseltonge, so soft it was barely a whisper. Merlin, what was he doing? This was wrong! I-if she knew, if she woke up… how on earth would he explain? But his hips kept flexing, his insistent cock begging for more, and he whined softly, wrapping his arm around her waist, gripping a fistful of her hair as he settled into a slow, deliberate rhythm, each movement deliberately glacial and soft, terrified she would wake, wishing she would as a slow fire stoked in his loins, the heat intensifying until it was almost too much to bear.

His fingers dug into her side, and all he wanted was to speed up, to slam into her with reckless abandon, to hear her sweet voice cry out in passion, to hear his name on her lips in the tone he’d only ever heard in his dreams… those sinful dreams that left his face burning and his cock straining against his pants that he couldn’t banish from his mind no matter how he tried.

“Oh, sweet Merlin…” he whispered, his head tilting up, his cheek pressed to the side of her head, thrusting his hips faster, seemingly without knowing, his breath speeding with his rhythm through parted lips. He had to stop, he needed to pull back, he had to get a grip on himself before…

But Ominis couldn’t have stopped even if Headmaster Black had walked in. He was barrelling towards a cliff, a wind at his back, a grin on his face and a song in his heart, and he flung himself readily over the edge with a strangled cry of passion, his cock throbbing and twitching as he released the pent-up desire of the last year and a half into his trousers.

He fell forward, gasping, suddenly over-sensitive and aching, his parted lips cupping the shell of her ear. And it was those gasping breaths that stirred MC at last.

“Ominis?” she shifted, and he froze, before hurling himself back. “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“I…” he tried to catch his breath, shame burning a path through his belly to nestle alongside the delicious ache in his abdomen. “Yes. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

She chuckled and slipped out of the blanket that covered them both. “I’ll make some tea.”

He listened to her retreating footsteps, surreptitiously sliding his wand into his palm and vanishing the mess he’d made before she could see it. He sat up properly and bowed his head, clasping his hands, before a small smile crept onto his face.

Something in him told him this wouldn’t be the last time. He’d just need to make sure she was awake for it, next time.

(Just for the fun of it, MC’s been awake this whole time and deliberately started it)

😘

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #horny!ominis #somnophilia #naughty ominis #kinktober #hogwarts legacy writing #smut #ominis smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfiction

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izvmimi · 2 years

Text

cw: minors dni!!! THIS IS A REPOST. deku interrupts you at work cuz he’s horny, also tbh this is radiologist!reader lmao, pseudo-domestic violence, car sex, questionable depiction of a medical professional. also i got inspired from a tiktok but i lost the tiktok so idk.

the high-pitched buzz of your phone vibrating on paper disrupts your focus, but to be quite honest, it’s a mental break you’ve needed after trying to figure out a case for the past twenty minutes. flipping it over, you can see a text from izuku on the screen, and you quickly unlock the phone.

i’ll be there in three minutes, can you slip away for a bit?

your eyes widen. it is a little past lunchtime, and as the thought crosses your mind your stomach growls. rising up quickly, you draft your report and call out to your attending who is glued to their own screen in the dark room that you’re taking lunch. she murmurs something in agreement under her breath.

it’s very bright outside in contrast to the reading room, but you make a quick way out to the driveway where patients are unloaded to see where izuku’s parked. he could probably walk (or jump) here but that attracts too much attention, so whenever he does surprise you at work, he shows up in the old SUV you refuse to give up despite the fact that he makes well enough money to upgrade you.

you grin as you see him, running up to the lowered passenger window. he grins as he sees you too - he didn’t work today, so he’s dressed down, although he looks upsettingly good in his simple white spandex t-shirt.

“what’d you bring me?” you say quickly, before even opening the door.

izuku raises his eyebrows.

“myself.” he’s still smiling but you frown and your stomach growls again.

“yourself?” you pout but then you get annoyed. he’s been home all day and you’re starving and he usually brings food if he can and thus food is all you can think of right now, even if you are always glad to see him.

“how long do you have?” he asks, tentatively as he starts the car but doesn’t drive off yet. “i missed you… and you’re coming home late again tonight…”

his hand rests on your knee and by the way he caresses it you can sort of tell already what he wants-

“not long enough if that’s what you’re thinking of,” you pout. maybe you’re a little bit of a brat, but more childish anger wells up within you.

“you really didn’t bring any food?” you lament.

he chuckles, and drives off as you stare outside the window. it’s only when he makes a right turn off into the parking garage and not onto the main road that you start to wonder what’s going on.

“izuku?”

“indulge me a little bit?” he asks. the car continues to turn up and up and up until you’re basically on the rooftop. blood is starting to rush to your temples.

you turn to him, irritated this time.

“i’m not going to fuck you on my lunch break????”

he laughs then gives you a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“you’re absolutely sure you’re not?”

“izuku!”

“okay how about i do the fucking?” he jokes.

your heart is racing.

“i’m going to punch you and get out of this car if you keep messing with me like this,” your voice is sharp and shrill, and he laughs even harder.

“you’re so cute when you’re upset,” he teases. car now parked in the furthest corner, but uncovered so that it’s bright and the view of the city is the highest from your vantage point, he stops the vehicle and turns to you, pointing to his cheek.

“do it, baby. punch right here, as hard as you can.”

you grimace.

“i’ll do it for real.”

his green eyes gleam and he leans in. “go ahead. i’m giving you permission, sweetheart.”

it’s a small space, but your arm does find a way to draw back and you threaten it. he grins even wider now.

“if you punch me i’ll buy you dinner for real. we’ll have a feast, actually, whatever you want, okay? i dropped the ball. i am a terrible boyfriend, right? i deserve it.”

you hate when he starts like this because he will keep on egging you on, so reluctantly you draw back further and punch him in the face.

he barely moves from the impact and pouts.

“could be better,” he sighs. he takes your wrist before you can draw it back; it really wasn’t a hard punch, but you wanted him to shut up and now your hand stings a little. he can tell with the wince in your face, and kisses your wrist, eyes still focused on you.

your face warms. the close contact always does to you; he knows you too well.

“s-should we really?” you think out loud as he inches closer. he leans back for a moment and watches you carefully. he’s done bothering you at this point you can tell from the suddenly slightly more pensive look in your eyes.

“okay, you’re right that i missed you and didn’t think, just got in the car, so i’m sorry about that,” he murmurs. biting his lip, he rubs your hand in his lap.

a few moments pass, and you give in. you sigh and kiss him on the cheek.

“i missed you, too.”

you ponder for a moment long, and then kiss him on the lips.

who cares if it’s midday and you’re on the clock?

izuku knows what you’re thinking the moment your lips meet his, and his tongue is in your mouth instantly. in a practiced and thus fluid motion, he pulls the seat back while pulling you on top of him as you climb over the car console. your mouths connect and disconnect and his hand unravels your scrub top tucked into your pants and moves upwards to cup a breast. the kiss deepens and you moan into his mouth as his fingers toy with a pebbled nipple. your bodies start to rock together, and you forget that there’s a medical mystery you haven’t yet solved and you’re hungry and tired and still have 8 hours of work left, but regardless, you let yourself sink into your pro hero partner’s arms. he kisses your face and your neck, sucking gently down to the space between your breasts. you raise your hips, and the hard cock that’s been poking between your legs as you straddle him makes an appearance.

will you have time to clean up afterwards?

either way, you sink down onto his cock and soon your car is moving violently as izuku thrusts up and down and up and down and you throw it right back at him.

you can hear him moan as his fingers tighten around your hips but you’re still much, much louder. the sun is beating down and there’s even more heat in the car as you become sweatier through loosened clothing. izuku fills your appetite in another way, you have to admit.

always.

—

“did you change your scrubs?” your attending asks as you rush back to your desk nearly an hour later.

you stumble a bit as you barrel past, and thank the heavens that reading rooms are always dark.

“yeah, i spilled some soup so went to the call room and changed.”

“oh, that sucks. hey, i took over that draft for you. good job on that case, you were on the right track.”

“ah, yes.”

your stomach is still growling, but you have excellent dinner plans to look forward to at 8.

and maybe you’ll be fed again, a different way.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya smut #izuku smut #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: izuku #mimi's notes #mimi's izu <3

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viperixsworld · 7 months

Text

Tales of a Baratheon in a lion's den

Sack of King's Landing

This story takes place before, during and after Robert's Rebellion, following the life of Margellyn Baratheon, lady in waiting of late Princess Elia of Dorne; sister of the future king Robert Baratheon.

Kingslayer's friend.

The night is dark and full of terrors.

The Red Keep was being besieged by the Rebel Army. They were at the Gates, waiting for their pray to either die holding their doors or starve to death. The people from the city gathered on the entry of the red walls, trying and failing to get in, as the royal guards protected the king, throwing boiling oil and shooting them arrows from above.

The Mad King had commanded quarentine.

All the servants remaining will do their chores with their mouth shut, or else they would have it sew up. The few lords and ladies that stayed regretted not having fled when they had the chance. Not that they were not loyal to House Targaryen anymore, but loyalty turns really unuseful once you have a knife to your neck, especially in the losing party.

As to the Royal Family itself, there were different situations going on. The king had locked himself in the throne room, accompanied only by his newest hand, a pyromancer called Rossart, and with the doors of said rooms guarded by the entire Kingsguard. Meanwhile, princess Elia roamed around her room, with the little princesses sleeping peacefully on the bed, unbothered by the chaos that devastated Westeros, unawered that their father was probably dead.

The night sky covered the battered city, leaving the fortress in a gloomy aura. Margellyn Baratheon, lady in waiting for Princess Elia, was praying in her dorm, as she usually did since the rebellion began. The king held her hostage as well as her princess and the children, as a bargain for House Martell.

Margie had been sended to the capital three years ago, only twelve at the time, by her brothers Robert and Stannis, like a present for the Royal Family.

Sure as the Seven Hells, they were regretting every decision now.

But Robert had just arrive from the Vale, the brand-new Lord of Storms End, knew how to deal with all women except his own sister, who was barely ten years older than his bastard daughter. He loved her, of course, but sure she was infuriating. Stannis also did love her, but he had enough in his plate, although at first he was reluctant to send a twelve-year-old girl who had never left the walls of Storms End to the big and dangerous city, he gave in to his brother's ideas, since it was already too difficult to raise a newborn Renly and clean up Robert's political disasters as lord, to do all that and control a naughty and talkative young girl.

She was perfect for the job, they thought, had a good hand with kids and the presence of the correct Princess Elia would surely be a very good influence on that rascall they call sister. But they had not thought about the Starks deaths, they had not thought Robert would lead a rebellion and that Stannis would been reclused in Storms End almost starving to death with Renly. The oldest one couldn't even imagine that he would be marching to the capital now, with the blood of Rhaegar Targaryen in his hands, with his sister being hostage within the same Keep as a pyromaniac king.

Robert would rather have his tongue torn out than admit this, but he hadn't seen Margie in two years. He was afraid of arriving at a fortress consumed by fire and not being able to recognize his sister's body.

Of losing another girl he loved to a Targaryen.

When the news of Lyanna's kidnapping came to the capital, Margie was horrified, couldn't even think of Rhaegar doing something like that. It left her Princess weak in the heart and she was angry at the Crown Prince for it, he deserved a punch in his pretty face. And when the Battle of the Trident was known, Margie was not angry anymore, she was scared.

She thought of all the ways the king could torture her or kill her as revenge for his son. She became paranoid, only seeing her Princess and the kids, not speaking to anyone else. She burned all the letters she had from her brothers, only wore orange dressed as the Dorne standard, refusing any kind of black and yellow.

But she was still alive.

Third day of siege, and she was still alive. In her prayers, she plead for her brothers to save her or the famine to kill her, whathever that came first.

But please, please, do not burn me alive.

She prayed for the children as well, little beings that didn't ask to be born in this mess and that awful family. And she prayed for her good princess, who she loved like no other, brokenhearted by that stupid prince.

"What are you doing?". ask the little princess wathing her dark-haired friend.

"Just praying" Margie responded " For a short Winter and a Spring full of wheat".

"Can you pray the Gods for a new dress?"

Margie laughed at her occurrence.

"I can try"

She prayed for her brothers, the three of them, Robert, Stannis and Renly. It's been a long time since she saw them. She wondered if Renly remembered her, if Stannis still had hair in his head or if Robert could have grown more, if that was possible.

She prayed for a sunny day among those clouded wars, for the blood to stop raining upon her and her loved ones and a sky full of peace.

But it was night.

And the night is dark and full of terrors.

The obscured city bagan to light, but it wasn't the sun. It was fire. Fire and blood.

Margellyn approached the window of her room, the capital of Westeros plunged into chaos and pain, among the banners of the rebel army, one stands out from the rest, one that does not belong to the lands of the North, or the Riverlands, or the Vale, or her own.

A golden lion on a red floor.

The Lannister have betrayed the King.

"We're doomed".

The Baratheon girl breathed out all the air in her body. It was the end, the King was going to set everyone on fire, she had heard him say it, she had heard what was inside the Keep, in under the city. It was the end.

She grabbed the first robe she saw, a pale pink over her white nightgown, shoeless. She left the room, on her way to the princess's royal chambers in the other wing of the Red Keep.

But on the way she found a crowd of servants fleeing in terror, pushing each other to escape the terror that was unleashed at the foot of the fortress. She saw royal guards drag the fleeing man back through the corridors. Among the chaos, there was a loud crash.

Everyone remained silent, looking at the gate in terror. That he was being beaten by the Rebel army. A moment of stillness, before the door fell.

"They're inside!" Targaryen guard raised the alarm.

The Lannister army entered the interior of the imposing keep to slaughter. They did not stop to ask questions or to save the servants from the edge of their swords. They killed everything that moved. Not that Margie wanted to stay and find out.

She ran as fast as her cold feet allowed her to the stairs of the royal wing. He had to alert his princess and get her out of here. She pushed every body that crossed her path with all the strength she possessed, if Robert saw her he would applaud her and laugh saying "Fury moves mountains, doesn't it, kiddo?"

Suddenly, she felt a tug on her arm. Terror invaded her mind, she was not a naive girl, she knew what happened to girls and women during sacks. The women of the court are cruel, and they tell stories of even crueler men to the girls newly arrived from all around the Seven Kingdoms. What those men did to women during the looting was the worst fate for a lady. The harlots suffered it daily, but at least they received reward for it. She knew what that meant, they took away their humanity, forcing them and leaving them dying at the end if they were lucky. The best thing to do, they said, was to close your eyes and pray that they won't leave you a bastard. "Don't scream" the most cynical would say "Don't give them the pleasure."

But Margie wasn't about to give anyone any kind of pleasure.

When the man pushed her against one of the walls and pressed against her, she wanted to vomit, but first her eyes caught a glimpse of an unlit candelabrum with a sharp ornament. She felt the man rip her silk robe with a knife that scarred her shoulder, then she reached for the candelabrum, stabbing him in the eye with it.

Shouts and curses were said to her by the man, as she returned to her way to the princess room.

Maybe they were safe. She thought.

Elia had told her before, that Maegor Targaryen built secret passages throughout the fortress, Rhaegar had told Elia that after the Dance of Dragons, many were sealed and over the years people considered this one of the many myths of the Red Keep. Rumors arose again after Queen Rhaella's escape.

Maybe they had used them and were already safe on their way to Dorne. She hoped.

When she reached the hallway of the princess's chambers, her heart began to relax. However, even in the darkness, an uneasiness settled on the back of Margie's neck, as she didn't see a single soul in the corridor.

The closer she got to the door, the farther away it seemed. The hum of the crowd riddled at the entrance was replaced by subtle, weak whimpers of pain... and the cry of a baby.

The door is open, leaving a small line of light that showed the interior of the room.

She saw it all.

The little girl being dragged from her hiding place and stabbed by one of the men, living her little lifeless body on the floor. The next thing left Margie with her heart pounding and vomit rising up her throat. The other man was larger, bulkier, similar to Robert, he took the babys from Elia as she cried being held by the first man. Blood and remains were everywhere, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't look away from that grotesque scene and she couldn't stop hearing the cries of her poor princess.

Just when Margellyn herself was about to scream in agony, alerting the murderers of her presence, a hand covered her mouth, stoping the shout.

A third accomplice got her and took her aside, right behind a column, pushing her against a wall. Her screams and cries were muffled up by the globed hand of this new person in the scene.

Maybe the Seven thought loud girls had to go screaming.

"Shut it, girl!" the stranger urged her with an familiar voice "Margellyn, please, stop it! You're gettin us killed!"

She knew that voice.

It was Jaime Fucking Lannister.

Her teary eyes focused on his sweaty face. He was dressed with his armour and that bloody white cloack. His golden locks look dirty and darkish, his esmerald eyes lacked of his usual spark. He wasn't grinning like an idiot as he would normally be when she was around.

He looked miserable.

But she wouldn't want to know how she looked.

The warm and stinky weather of King's Landing was no help with the stench of corpses and smoke from fires. Hiding behind a column in the middle of a dark hallway, which in other circumstances would have been completely unseemly, was now a moment of absolute pain and sorrow for the two, as they listened to the last breaths of the princess of Dorne.

His right hand still covering the girl's mouth, his left one held her hand, hoping it would soothed her.

He wanted to leave that spot as soon as possible, get back to his father and give that hardheaded Robert Baratheon his sister back. That was the wise decision.

But Jaime wasn't known for his wise decisions.

So he waited for the girl in front of him to stop crying. Normally, he would have complained about the girls' sentimentality and forced her to go with him to the throne room where her father and the rest of the army were gathered for their victory. Yet he just watched her calm down slowly, still covering her sobs in case the Mountain catch them and tried to harm her.

At this proximity, Jaime could see how her bloodshot eyes did not stop crying. And he also felt like crying, after everything he had done for the kingdom, he had broken his oath and the promise he made to the Dragon Prince.

"Don't get angry, Jaime" Rhaegar Targaryen said "But this is a job for prepared knights"

"But i am prepared, way more than these old men. What if they brake their hip?"

"OI! Be careful boy,I can smack you!"

The rest laughed but Jaime didn't.

The Prince put a hand on his shoulder.

"You have an important role here, promise me you will take care of my wife and my kids and a will promise you, when I get back, things will be different"

"I promise".

He had broken his oath, to the Prince and to the Kingsguard. When the Mountain and his men were out the chambers and out of sight, Jaime realised that it the sun was rising and took Margie's out of their spot.

Jaime began to head to the throne room, they had a lot to do, Storm's End was under siege from what he had heard Jon Arryn and his father say. When he noticed that no one was following him, he turned around.

The Baratheon girl stood still next to the column that had been her hiding place for The Seven Knows How Long, the braid that held her long black hair was disheveled, her skin was pale, almost yellowish, and her tearful eyes did not take off from the door.

Margellyn wanted the earth to swallow her and spit her out into the stormlands again. She wanted her mother, to be a little girl again with a newborn brother to play with and two older ones to bother. She wanted to meet Elia and her children again and play with them in the gardens. And above all, she wanted to stop looking at the pool of blood that could be seen running across the floor.

Jaime took a step foward and closed the door once and for all, separating them from the inert and crushed bodies of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon.

"Margellyn, come on, we have to go"

"They're dead" she murmured.

"I know"

"They done no wrong"

"I know"

"Why are they dead?"

"I don't know"

He did know.

Only one Targaryen alive was a danger to Westeros, they didn't need to have future crazy Targaryen that could want to take the Iron Throne in the name of their bloody House. It didn't matter they were kids.

If It didn't matter, why did his chest sting?

The ruins of the city rise as best they can after the settlement. Those loyal to the mad king try to flee but are intercepted. The rebels take power and Tywin Lannister prepares for his next step. While Eddard Stark marches to liberate Storm's End, Robert rampages through Maegor Holdfast in search of a young woman he has not seen in years.

As they head to the Council room, Jaime notices the bruises and marks visible behind her (now noticeable in daylight) thin nightgown. The boy fears the worst, it was a long night, and when he found her she already looked like this. He didn't want to think about how it would have ended if he had arrived just a second later. He also knew who was behind those doors. Men, most of them bordering on old age, who would not accept the girls' appearances kindly, regardless of what happened just a few hours ago.

It was too late to turn back to her room for her to change, so he did the only thing that croos his mind, and took off his white ( now spotted red ) cloack and put it over her shoulders.

"There you have" said the boy "You looked cold"

Margie didn't say a word, she just tried to hide within herself, to erase herself from this narrative. There wasn't many times she stayed quiet, but in those moments she couldn't even think of use her voice.

Jaime opened the door. The room fell quiet.

Pairs of wrinkled eyes watch her enter the room a few steps behind Tywin's son, covered in a blood stained cape. At the end of the table, sat with his leg crossed and a cup of wine in his hand, was Tywin Lannister, as victorious as ever.

"Ah" he sighed with delight, as if everything was falling into place "There's the girl, alive and kicking".

The rest of the Commanders of the Rebellion seemed relieved, all that was left was to recover the Stark girl and Robert would not vent his rage on anyone else, they would share the wonderful loot and return to their lands under the rule of a new puppet of Tywin Lannister.

Joan Arryn stood up from his seat, analyzing the girl's posture, fearing that she was going to faint at any moment. Aside from the obvious feminine features, the girl was an exact copy of her older brother, who looked just like their deceased father. A plump face, with stormy blue eyes that looked reddish after tears, the same voluminous, dark hair. It was like seeing his foster child in the body of a scared little girl.

"Call the maester for this girl, and someone bring Robert once and for all" he stated.

Margie felt dizzy and dehydrated, her head pouding crazy. The adrenaline had left her body, leaving her with the lingering pain of the blows and cuts she had suffered during the siege.

While she waited for a maid to come get her clean in her chambers, she sat in a chair in the corner of the room, while man played war. Like a little girl, still covered in that bloody cloack. Jaime was there too, listening to his father plans to hunt down the other wildfire pyromaniacs lefts, every now and then, he would turn his eyes to the girl in the corner, checking if she needed anything.

This did not go unnoticed by Lord Tywin, who was more than satisfied with it.

"Where the hell is Robert?" asked some lord.

"Probably smashing some heads out there yet" said another one.

The thought of it made Margellyn want to vomit.

The siege was days of terror and panic for everyone. The entire fortress shook with every scream of the mad king. Nobody imagined that Lannister himself would betray the king and change the situation in favor of Robert's side. Margie couldn't help but think about how she said goodbye to Elia and the children once they fell asleep, how she said goodbye to her without knowing that it was the last time she would see her alive.

A maid came to take her to the maester and bring her clean clothes. After the maester cleaned the cut and treated the bruises on her body, the maid helped her bathe and dress in a new nightgown and robe, since Maester Yandel had recommended using soft fabrics that would not irritate the wounds. While the maid gently scratched the dirt and blood from her skin, Margie drifted away in her mind, thinking of good Elia, sitting on her bench in the gardens, breastfeeding little Aegon and his fascinating platinum hair. While little Rhaenys played with Balerion the Cat near the fountains.

Maybe if she sank deep enough in the tub, she could resurface in one of the fountains and wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Robert entered her room with strong steps and bittersweet face. It was night again, but she wasn't praying when he came in, not like last night.

She was scared of the dark sky now.

Scared of look at the window and go back to Elia's door again.

Margellyn was happy to see Robert, just didn't have the strength to prove it. But it's okay, because he could put enough strength for the two of them.

He picked her up as he hugged her, squeezed her a little too hard, until her sister let out a whimper.

"My little sister" he claimed, once he let her on the ground "You look like horseshit".

"You smell like it, Bobby"

A spark jumped in his chest when she said that nickname. When Margie was younger and Robert came to visit from the Vale, Margie had trouble pronouncing her r's, so she invented Bobby, her big brother.

"I had a chat with the maester, said you were good but that the night had been tough on ya', that ya needed rest" he said as they sat on the edge of the bed.

Her eyes filled with tears again, thinking of the siege.

Robert felt uncomfortable, he had missed his sister, but she was still a 15-year-old girl who knew what had happened that night.

He was her guardian now, her safety and future fell in his hands, just like Stannis and Renly, who were on their way to King's Landing at that time.

Just like those of the entire kingdom, it seems.

"Listen, kiddo" he said suddenly in a much deeper tone "Things are about to change for me, for us, I was the leader of the rebellion and..."

"They're going to judge you?!" she asked terrified.

"No! Seven hells..." he cursed, leaving her confused "... is much worse indeed..."

Margie feared the worst for a second, then she wondered who the hell could want Robert executed, since everyone loyal to the mad king was either dead or on the way to being so.

"Now that the Mad King and all his spawns are dead..." he began. And Margie wanted to cry again "The Regent Council is looking for a new king, the closest to the Targaryens"

"Tywin Lannister is the king?"

For some reason, that was more scary than a Targaryen.

"No..." he sighed "Our father's mother, Rhaelle Baratheon, was Rhaelle Targaryen by birth, daughter of Aegon Targaryen the Fifth of His Name" he explained "which, by royal blood, make's me, our father's firstborn, the new King of the Seven Kingdoms".

Margellyn was totally speechless. Of all the possible candidates for ruler, they have chosen their idiot brother. She loved him, of course, but he would be an absolute disaster as king, he was born to be Lord Baratheon of Storms End, not King Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms.

"That is..." she said

"NUTS! How could you even be King?" she wanted to say.

"... is unexpected"

"I knew I should have waited a bit to tell ya kiddo, but it had to be done, when the storm clears, the loyalist to Aerys would be gone and I will be king"

He didn't seem too keen on being the next monarch either.

Robert then prepared to leave, but not before saying.

"Stannis and Renly will arrive in the capital in a week, when they arrive we will talk about Storm's End. Tomorrow morning you will be with me in the throne room, when they announce my coronation and my engagement".

He left before she ask.

"What engagement?"

The door was shut.

Margellyn Baratheon was left alone in her room again. This time there was no danger. There was a storm outside, washing the sins of the streets away.

There was a storm outside.

Further away, a baby is born.

#baratheon #got #game of thrones #asoif/got #asoiaf fic #robert baratheon #house targaryen #house baratheon #baratheon oc #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x oc #got fic

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wonderful-magician · 2 months

Text

My rewrite of starlight express except it's just a detailed song list

Disclaimer: this is just for fun! And also some mentions of the race 4 crash and the stuff surrounding it. Along with characters like greaseball and Electra in not so pretty lights. Though I believe they both improve as people and are good people after the show!

You can completely ignore this post! If I sound a bit negative at all just know that starlight express is literally my favorite thing in the world right now and I would give every character a smooch on the forehead.

Basically I have my dream song list that has no rules. No time constraints just fully compliant to my AU. Mostly inspired by Broadway, the Vegas pre-recorded races, 2015 Bochum and original London. All horribly mashed together with glitter glue. (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) Except instead of just showing off my dream song list. I'm also going to explain how each song played out in a setting that one could call a movie or tv show. I was originally going to draw every song but that's simply an exhausting sounding idea when I've already started a project for drawing every character.. anyway, to my ranting!

No control sequence

My Starlight express doesn't take place in a child's imagination. Instead of a full control sequence. We just get AI control announcing the national race!

Rolling stock

Rolling stock takes place early in the morning. Rusty wakes up early to watch the diesels get pumped and ready in the early hours. As rusty still has some time before he needs to grab the coaches for the busy day. And he somberly watches the big strong diesels.. greaseball is mostly hidden by the shadows but looks absolutely awesome! Featuring his great shades even though it's dark out.

Call me rusty/new intro song

Rusty no longer gets mocked immediately by the diesels. Instead rusty skates off to wake up and grab the coaches. The disgruntled and unprepared coaches whine and warn rusty about the day as they know his plans to race. Call me rusty is a great intro song for rusty and it wouldn't mind the original being used. Though truly I feel like rusty just deserves a good I want song that's more clear about his desire to win the races to prove the power of steam! ( His wish is to win! Not get pearl. )

Lotta locomotion

The introduction for the girls. They sing a lotta locomotion while rusty pulls them to the main yard but keeps taking detours. Trying to show off his skills yet the girls keep mentioning that he's simply not a popular engine nor is he very attractive to most train standards. Though pearl is silent and somber whenever it's brought up ( she likes him )

Shortened he whistled at me, new lyrics

Once they reach the yard. Rusty rushes off to get the freight and leaves the coaches in the main yard alone. Pearl gets in an argument with Buffy and Ashley. As she defends rusty from their criticism. And Dinah just shakes her head. Pearl sings an improved solo about her desire for an engine to whistle at her. ( Implying it's rusty. )

Freight

Pearls solo is suddenly interrupted by a loud horn. As the freight train is pulled in by rusty. The girls mock the freight trucks and the trucks mock the coaches. Though they have a friendly relationship even if they mock each other. Insert the introductionsss. Once freight ends. They start to rally for the noon race.

National engines

Standard national introductions. Not much to say.

AC/DC

Electra and the components show up fashionably late for the races. Electra is introduced as powerful and show stopping like always. A superstar that wasn't even expected to appear. Electra's hypnotizing powers are shown more clearly. As he magnetizes and influences pearl. And she's amazed by him. To Rusty's distaste.

Pumping Iron

Electra is suddenly interrupted by greaseball. Who had been watching from afar since the nationals. greaseball attracts Dinah and pearl, all the components, and CB and flat-top. Greaseball is shown to be the leader of the diesels and the strongest in the yard.

Coda freight

Electra and greaseball start to tussle as they are both strong engines desiring attention and leadership. And they challenge each other to the race. Rusty interrupts them and they mock him. Before they start the march.

Pearl you're honored

Everybody needs a partner. Pearl is invited by Electra ( purse.. ) to race. Pearl originally refuses but purse gets Electra himself to make an appearance. And his magnetism begins.

rewrite of make up my heart

The song is remade to be both a pearl solo. And somewhat a gag song. For pearl is shown having a dilemma. Wanting to race with rusty but she is being hypnotized to race with Electra slowly as the song continues. Everytime she turns to face the two boys they are behaving. And Electra looks favorable, rusty looks rather lame. But when she turns- Electra is mocking rusty and pushing him around with purse. The other components come out and pearl decides to race with Electra. Rusty is heartbroken.

Race 1

There's me

Dinah is upset with greaseball cheating during race 1. ( Not realizing that CB was the main one actively cheating for GB. She's just mad that GB hit a national. ) she cries and takes a break from GB. And is comforted by CB who is upset to see his closest friend crying. The song is more comedy focused. Putting emphasis on the silly ways CB tries to help Dinah. Which cheers her up.

Poppas blues

CB helps Dinah back to the coaches. And we follow him and rusty return to the main yard. Where poppa has appeared to endorse rusty for wanting to race. And sings his song while the freight dance. By the end of it. He realizes that rusty is upset. And finds out that rusty is super upset and hurt from being mocked and left. Poppa decides to race in Rusty's place ( to Rusty's dismay. ) and races with Belle the sleeping car...

Belle the sleeping car

Belle is shown sleeping and poppa wakes her up. She sings her song. ( Rusty has some less than stellar words to say. Even though she's implied to be his adoptive mother of sorts. ) And she goes off with poppa to race.

Crazy and engine of love tidbit

Rusty approaches pearl again. Begging her to race with him instead so that poppa and Belle don't race. She calls him crazy and the song starts. As he tries to court her back ( with a lil bit of engine of love. ) She gets close to saying yes but is pulled away by the other coaches.

Starlight express

Rusty, defeated after being rejected and mocked so much during the day. Sings starlight express as the day ends. And he falls asleep knowing the next day will have the next race. ( And he's worried about poppa, and pearl. )

Race 2

The OLC rap/silver dollar

After poppa Is injured from the race but places first place. They debate if rusty can replace him in the lineup. As they debate. The grand prize is revealed. ( And the people who want it most. Are hinted. ) Rusty couples up with CB, who supports his ability to race throughout the rap.

Rewritten pearl twirl

Greaseball and Electra get in a tussle. GB bonks Electra on the head and his magnetism ceases. Pearl gets mad at Electra and moves to go to rusty. Before she's stopped by greaseball. He flirts with her and she's receptive ( who wouldn't be. ) Dinah is heartbroken by greaseball but he claims it's just some fun and it'll only be for the race. And pearl doesn't say anything to Dinah

Uncoupled

Dinah sings a sadder version of uncoupled. ( I hate it when she's treated like comedy relief! ) as she's upset that she feels betrayed by her boyfriend and her best friend. And she sings of her feelings of low worth.

Girls rolling stock

Ashley and buffy come over to comfort Dinah after they see her crying. They're both mad that greaseball treated her in such a way. ( It's also implied that Buffy and Ashley are a couple. ) and they mention some boundaries that need to be set. Before cheering her up with a song.

Dinah you're honored

Purse collects Dinah to race with Electra. ( Who was still upset about losing pearl ) And she doesn't put up a fight.

wide smile

CB is shown alone. Before he's trailing GB. And speaking to Electra through his radio. Before assuring greaseball that he's still working with him. Before skating off to Electra. And sharing his plans to crash Rusty and steal the silver dollar to Electra. Electra is shocked and allured by the plan. And trusts CB even as CB sings of his crimes. The components are distrustful of CB.

Race 3

Right place right time

The Rockies come in to explain to rusty that the system is broken. And that he'll never win because the rich and the popular control who wins and who loses. and rusty simply has no chance in ever winning against somebody like Electra or greaseball. As rusty is still reeling from being injured and betrayed by CB.

Starlight sequence

Rusty is defeated after the Rockies finish their song. And he sits down in pain from his injuries and his mental exhaustion. He screams for the starlight express and is visited by them. They inform him that he doesn't need help. and simply needs to believe in himself and do what he needs to. As the tides are in his favor.

Dustin/Dinah's disco

Dustin also had seen the starlight express. And is found by rusty. The two confide in each other for being mocked by the others. And they partner up for the last race. / Dinah rejects and yells at Electra for being a jerk. And a whiny brat. Electra is hurt ( despite it being deserved as he won't stop talking about getting second place. And deserving to get first. ) couples with CB. ( To the components dismay )

Race 4

One rock and roll too many

After the horrific crash that occurred during race 4. CB, Electra and greaseball are utterly miserable. Nearly shutting down as their bodies are wired together somewhat and broken. CB is the weakest. But they sing their song in sadness. And the silver dollar is yanked from CB after he passed out.

Only he snippit

Back to pearl. Pearl is shown singing a few lyrics from only he as she is alone. And reflecting over what happened during the races and before.

Only you

The duet between Rusty and Pearl. Pearl declares she will try her best to not let others stop her from staying with rusty. And rusty declares he'll protect her. Smooch smooch ( I LOVE THEM )

Ending dialogue

Poppa is stern with CB. And gives the silver dollar to rusty. The components are harsh to their master and teach him a few words. And Dinah makes up with GB. Saying they need to set each other's boundaries more. But she still loves him ( and he still loves her. Smooch. ) and he apologizes for cheating and messing around.

Light at the end of the tunnel

Honestly this song gives me major during the credits so just imagine a bumping credits scroll lmao. Even better? One of those 2010 animated movie dancing credits shdhdbdb

OKKK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS ASK ME I LOVE TALKING (⁠θ⁠‿⁠θ⁠) this was fun to write. I REALLY LOVE TALKING I might make more posts like this but I'm unsure

#stex #starlight express #naming a few of the canon ships #because i love them #and if you dont #that makes me sad :(#prusty #greasedinah #also some ships i added #smoked burgers #ashley x buffy #buffy x ashley #idk what name is used #adding a few important people too lol #rusty the steam engine #greaseball the diesel engine #electra the electric engine #pearl the observation car

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stephaniebrownslover · 5 months

Text

Guys I have an idea.

What if I made Jeff The Killer like BoJack Horseman???

Guys don't leave please guysssssss it's so dark hereeeee

Okay now that I think about it, I'll ramble about this a bit.

Either I'm on to something or on something.

Also BH characters as creepypasta characters random BoJack Horseman dialogues as Jeff under the line and how other pastas would react.

And the only Jeff portrait I like is @jeffthekillerzblog 's Jeff because he's like a real life :3

THEIR FIRST TWO LETTER IS SAME THEY'RE THE SAME

...

GUYSSSSSSS TOBY AS TODD JUST IMAGINE

Lol just kidding but I think Toby and Todd would actually get along. Like they would just chill around and build random shit and talk about nonsense stuff. Their silly goofy traits are kinda similar so they would understand each other most of the time. Great minds think alike.

Okay okay let's talk about Jeff Horseman stuff before drifting away the topic.

First of, I think BoJack Horseman is not a character do defend. Yes, he tries to fix his mistakes but it was too late for him. He needed to change before all the shit happened. He needed to go to rehab or therapy before.

I'm not saying it's all his fault but just look at Diane. She had her own trauma and even though she was feeling bad most of the time, she wanted to get better. She worked for it in time instead of BoJack.

Yes, BoJack is a traumatized character but Todd was right about "You can't keep doing shitty thing and then feel bad about it!" because BoJack did this always.

Now back to Jeff. He has a similar trait with BoJack. I think Jeff has BPD most likely and he has serious anger issues. That's not a good mix as you can guess. It causes him to make mistakes and hurt people he actually gives a shit about and even though this makes him feel bad later, he won't do anything about it.

He wants to change, he wants to apologize from Jane and Nina and Liu. He wants to be a better person. He hates this life he build but he's been in this hell so long that he doesn't know a way out. He thinks it's too late for him and for treatment after all the people he killed and hurt.

Just like BoJack but in a different way.

BoJack hurts people close to him mentally and Jeff hurts people close to him both mentally and physically.

They both doesn't want to live their life and they would rather be like anyone else does.

They would hate each other if they met because they would see the other as a mirror. Or something like they could be in an another universe. And this would scare them as hell.

Jeff might be a surface character but I think that's because of his creator portrays him. I have like/hate relationship with him because of how badly he portrayed in almost every work.

He was not a pure evil monster, he was a 13 year old kid with untreated mental issues and body trauma. And no one was there to teach him this was not right since this motherfucker is very stubborn and he killed everyone who could.

Both of them doesn't want to die no matter how shitty their life can became. They want to live. They want to see the next day even though they would hate it. They think they deserve to live after all the things they had gone through.

They want to believe that they have a chance for redemption without caring about their past mistakes.

Also if Jeff would be an animal, he thinks he would be a wolf but he'd actually be a horse. That's like his spirit animal.

Take random BoJack dialogues as Jeff and other pastas' reactions to that.

...

Jeff: Rehab was supposed to be a fresh start. But no matter how many starts I get, there's always the same ending. Everything falls apart, and I end up alone.

Clockwork: Then get a new life man, this shit is not that hard.

Jeff: Shut up bitch! I'm having a moment here!

...

Jeff: Same thing that always happens. You didn't know me. Then you fell in love with me. And now you know me.

Nina: Eat shit and die asshole. You ruined my life.

Jeff: Fucking let me apologize whore!

Nina: Okay. I'm gonna kill this bastard. Don't hold me!

Kate: No one's holding you.

Nina: I said don't hold me!

...

Jeff: I'm the one who has suffered the most because of the actions of Jeffrey Woods.

Jane: What about Liu or Nina or even me?

Jeff: Nah, Liu's fine and he hates you.

Liu: No, I don't.

Jeff: He doesn't know what he's saying. And Nina loooves me.

Nina: No I don't!

Jeff: She's high on my awesomeness.

Jane: Shup the fuck up you dumbass.

...

Jeff: There's gonna be plenty of people around when I kill myself!

Masky: Not me.

Hoodie: Nah, I'll be there to celebrate.

Jeff: I hate all of you.

...

Jeff: Really makes you think, though, huh? Life, right? Goes by, stuff happens. Then you die.

Toby: W-who the hell are you?

Jeff: Yeah, you're right.

Toby: I am?

Jeff: Nah.

Toby: Of cour-se I am.

Who wants part 2 for incorrect quotes??

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blueraineshadows · 1 year

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Hi Anon! 👋 I have taken a screenshot of part of your request, I hope you don't mind. Mainly because it has spoilers, and also the length. I really hope you see this!!! Brilliant request 👏

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - dark/angst/fluff/eventual smut/multiple chapters 🔞 NSFW

No Light Without Darkness - Part One

The wailing from the cells was particularly bad tonight, the mournful cries echoing off the dark stone walls of Azkaban prison. A torch was lit in Sebastian's cell, the flames throwing flickering shadows across the floor, but it was cold, the fire an illusion of warmth. He had forgotten what it felt like to be warm.

He leant his head back against the wall, his arms balanced on his knees, his bare feet filthy against the stained mattress. He tried to remember how it felt to lay on something soft, to be clean, but all he felt was chill and hard stone. The very air he breathed was ice and shadow, empty, dripping with malice.

He had been staring into darkness for so long that it was beginning to feel like that was all he would ever know.

Outside the waves crashed against the smooth prison walls, the air filtering through the slit for ventilation had the tang of brine to it. He used to love being near the sea. Now, the waves were nothing more than a constant drone, another monotonous noise along with the hissing groans of the Dementors.

Sebastian tried to probe gently at the boy he used to be, the small part of him that was buried deep behind the thick shield he had mentally erected around himself. Every once in a while he tried to remember him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. That part of himself was shrinking. Soon, he feared he would be wailing along with the others who had finally let go of their grip on reality.

He fancied that death would be kinder, and it wasn't the first time he had thought of it.

After five years, his inner strength was beginning to crack, the weight of the cold misery and horror that was Azkaban was slowly breaking him. If you were to ask him, and he could find the will to speak, he would say that it was no more than he deserved.

....*....

The Auror office was abuzz with activity. A major bust had just gone down and there were plenty of prisoners ready to be shipped off to Azkaban to await trial. MC stood in the office of her superior, hands clasped behind her back as he congratulated her on a job well done.

"You're one of our best, MC, and once again you didn't let me down," Jenkins said.

She bowed her head a little. "I appreciate you giving me the chance to head the raid," she replied. "Bringing down that poaching ring was a long time coming. I'm just glad we pulled it off."

"All thanks to you and that wonderful magic of yours," Jenkins smiled. He didn't smile often, but when he did, you knew you had done a good job. "Now, I want you to be on escort duties to Azkaban tonight. That ring leader is a nasty piece of work, and they will need you to keep him in check. Are you alright with that?"

MC felt her stomach clench a little. She had never set foot in the prison before. Not only had it never come up as a duty since becoming an Auror, she also felt trepidation. The horrors she had heard of the place since taking up position here at the Auror office slid through her thoughts. The heavy chain of her guilt squeezed tightly around her ribs at the thought of who was in Azkaban, who she had let down all those years ago. She had failed him in the worst way, being too late to stop it, pulled away by the responsibility of Ranrok, and then he was gone.

Sebastian's imprisonment was the biggest, most crippling regret of her life. She had never fully healed from the loss. Her heart was broken. She had even pulled away from her friends, not wanting to risk anyone mentioning his name. Even Ominis she had pushed away, as much as it hurt to do so. She was selfish, she knew. But self preservation was almost second nature after spending most of her life alone. She had let Sebastian in and lost him. Keeping people at arm's length saved her the pain of any loss. She didn't think she could carry any more.

However, despite all of this, MC looked at her boss and nodded, pressing her guilt and painful memories down. "Not a problem, Sir," she said, firmly. "I will make the trip to Azkaban."

....*....

As soon as MC's booted feet landed on the stone floor of Azkaban, she could feel the utter bleakness that permeated the very walls. Keeping her expression one of calm authority, she prodded her prisoner with her wand, shooing him in the direction of the processing office. They were following another Auror with a prisoner. Holloway was much more experienced in visiting the prison and led MC along through the cavernous corridors. The human wards of the prison had faces harder than the stone walls. You would have to. MC wasn't sure she could stand it, day in, day out. Her stomach twisted up at the very thought of it. How was Sebastian faring under this overwhelming cold misery?

Lost in thought about a boy she had once known, maybe even loved, she was taken by surprise when her prisoner elbowed her harshly in the side and made a run for it. MC lost her footing and hit the floor with a thud. She scrambled back to her feet, flustered and angry at herself for letting her concentration slip. Where the prisoner thought he was going to go, she had no idea. This place was inescapable. Holloway gave her a look, and MC gave her a nod of assurance. "I'm on it," she said.

She took off after the prisoner, wand out.

The poaching ring leader was a nimble little bastard, running swiftly despite the bindings at his wrists. MC cast a spell to slow him but missed, he dodged neatly and rounded a bend. MC ran, boots thudding on the cold stone. Torches lined the walls trying to lift the gloom, but a heavy darkness hung in every corner, the weight of the atmosphere attempting to suck MC down into the ground. She sucked in a breath and chased after the prisoner.

Inmates were picking up on the activity as she tried to hit him with another spell. Screeching and the clattering of pans against iron doors echoed down the corridor. MC ran past cells, filthy hands reaching out from the barred doors, mouths shouting abuse or glee at the chase.

Dementors were beginning to gather above her, swirling and drifting, the hiss of their breath like slippery ice. MC fought against the drain on her emotions, the feeling that all the light she had ever known was being drawn out through her skin.

Finally, MC had her prey in sight. She summoned the Ancient Magic and threw it full force down the length of the corridor, the white and blue glow filling the space. It spread upwards and outwards, chasing off the Dementors as though she was the embodiment of a Patronus spell.

The blast hit the prisoner in the back and he fell forwards, landing hard on his front and sprawling on the stone floor, out cold.

MC arrived next to him, panting, the aura of her magic receding and swirling to nothing around her feet. She kicked the prisoners foot with her boot. He was still alive, just. Assassination of prisoners wasn't exactly forbidden, but it was definitely frowned upon. "Nobody runs away from me like that," she said. "Nobody."

Now all she had to do was get him back to the processing office. Ignoring the shouts from the surrounding cells, MC stood back and aimed her wand, ready to cast Levioso on the unconscious prisoner. She paused, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck.

Immediately, she spun, wand up ready. The blood drained from her face, despite the way her heart jumped and began to pound at a ridiculously fast pace. In front of her was a cell door, and through the bars, locked on the other side, stood a man. He wasn't moving, his face blank, emotionless, his arms hanging loosely at his sides as he stared. His hair was an unruly mass of locks, limp and filthy, his face lean, harsh almost, but she knew who it was. How could she not?

"Sebastian." Her voice was strained, a breathless attempt at speaking aloud a name she hadn't said for years.

He didn't move, didn't even react. He blinked, slowly, staring at her with eyes that seemed empty, soulless.

Her heart crushed in on itself. She remembered a time when those eyes would light up with mischief, a smile at the edges. There was none of that there now. Just empty orbs, and it turned her legs to jelly. The realisation of how much those smiles had meant to her sharpened painfully now that his face was void of any emotion at all.

MC lowered her wand with a shaky hand. Tentatively, she took a step towards his door. He still didn't move. By the time she was right in front of the bars, her heart was in her mouth, her eyes begging for him to recognise her. She took hold of the cold iron with one hand and reached through the bars with the other, reached for him, but he was too far back from it.

"Sebastian, it's me," she said, softly. "Please..."

His chest was rising and falling rapidly with his breaths now, his eyes wide as he stared at her face. She pleaded again, arm outstretched as far as she could reach. A flicker, the briefest flicker of something in his gaze as his eyes dropped to her outstretched hand. Slowly, painfully slow, his hand moved towards hers. She licked her lips, fingers straining, the tips tingling in anticipation for his touch.

Just before they made contact he paused, his gaze darting up to her face. She sucked in a breath at the raw, savage pain in his eyes, there and then gone. He snatched his hand back from her, backing up quickly until he staggered onto the stained bed against the wall.

She shook her head. "No, Sebastian, it's alright. Please..."

But he turned away from her, curling up on the bed, his hands over his head. The sight tearing her heart into shreds.

Running footsteps down the corridor made her withdraw quickly from the door despite her reluctance to do so. Nausea swam dangerously in the pit of her stomach - to be this close to him and yet so far. She couldn't breathe, her eyes stung with the need to bawl and yet, she couldn't tear her gaze away from Sebastian's huddled form.

It was her fault. It was all her fault.

....*....

When the surge of blue and white had blasted down the corridor, Sebastian had turned his head towards his cell door. Somewhere, in the back of his shadowed mind, he recognised the magic that had caused it.

Limbs stiff from sitting in the same postion for hours, he had crept from his bed, shuffling forward. He saw the man drop to the floor, the smack of the impact not even registering as he drew nearer the iron bars. When she appeared, he almost flinched. His brows drew together in a quick flash of memory, the line of her jaw, the way she strode up to the body on the floor. He knew her. Something about her made that hidden part of himself, the boy he was, become restless.

He mapped out the slender form, the clean look of her, the scent of her filling the space like nothing had for time upon time. Something deep in his gut stirred. He paused, afraid to move any closer in case she disappeared. A few more minutes to just look. He just wanted to look.

And then she spun to face him, wand out, her gaze hard. He froze, his stone shield firmly in place, while he cowered behind it. The seconds seemed to stretch out even longer as she stared at him, looked at him with eyes that threatened to crumble all the hard work he had put into his shield.

The sound of his name on her lips almost made him move, but he held firm. His fear was a bitterness in his throat. Then her hand was reaching for him, long slender fingers that he thought may have run through his hair, the thought made his scalp prickle strangely. She was speaking softly, pleading with him, his name spoken in such a way that sounded odd to his ears.

Warm, safe.

He realised he wanted to touch those slender fingers. He wanted to touch them so much it physically hurt. He reached for them. They looked soft, so soft.

MC! That was her name. The surge of memories that flooded him was a torrent, powerful and suffocating. He snatched his hand back, overwhelmed, frightened. No, she shouldn't be here. Why was she here?

Panic seized him and then he was falling to his bed. He was underground, fire and death, she was screaming. Green light. No!!!

He hid from her. From the memories. It hurt, oh Merlin, it hurt.

....*....

Her rented room in London was small, practical and did what she needed it to do. She had lived here for a year now, ever since taking up the role of Auror for the Ministry. She supposed it was home, but tonight, in the depths of night, it was a prison. A prison of her own guilt and pain.

She lay on her bed, arms wrapped around herself, the image of Sebastian so broken and lost shredding her to pieces. It had been a while since she had allowed herself to cry over him, but tonight she gave herself the luxury. She bawled into her pillow, shattered for him, for herself, for the innocence lost.

For hours she lay there, still dressed, empty, her mind going over and over everything from that time when they had been just kids. Kids with no clue what they were doing, but with so much to carry on their shoulders.

She had let Sebastian down five years ago. Let him down in the worst way, and she would never forgive herself for it. But, she couldn't just ignore it either.

MC knew where he was now. She had access to him, whenever she wanted, her Auror license was her ticket in and out of Azkaban. Her heart sped up. She could see him again, if she wanted to.

And she wanted to.

To be continued... Part Two

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #blueraineshadows

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slytherinlizzy · 25 days

Text

Unforgettable night – an unfortunate visit to bar Aurora

Summary: Paying a visit to Aurora, since Jake has given no signs for months, and suddenly free alcohol doesn't sound that bad after all

Characters: Lyra Ambrose (my Mc from The afterfire), Phil Hakwins, Jessy Hawkins

Warning: use of alcohol, sexual related content, vivid description of intoxicated state

___________________________________________

"It's only a two hours car ride." Lyra paced the living room as she nervously tried to convince herself. She won't deny, the thought of a persuasive PowerPoint slideshow have crossed her mind, but that might have been a bit too sick, even from her. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and stared out into the late afternoon sun that completely covered the street.

"Let's think rationally. What reason do I have to go there?"

What reason does she have? Jake hasn't given a sign of himself in months, not even that he's alive. She was aware of what had happened that night in the mine; the news was full of it, just as the German government itself was puzzled by the incident. The thought, the guilt that she should have been the one to be there didn't let her rest. Richy wanted her to come. All these thoughts embedded themselves in her everyday life, even at night, and dreams suddenly turned into nightmares full of terror.

She couldn't take it anymore, no matter how much she convinced herself, or even Jessy, she started to give in under the weight. The redhead was the only one who knew about it; she shut herself away from the others, refused to hear anything about them. Everything took a toll on Jessy at least as much, and on top of that, even keeping a secret fell on her shoulders. This also made Lyra feel terrible. She would have preferred to escape from the world.

And what was she about to do? Go to the very place all her problems originate from.

"This will be just one night..." she picked up the car keys from the dresser and put them back. "I can't hide here forever, waiting to wither away."

But you know well you deserve it. The evil little voice in her head spoke. This voice had guided the longest six months of her life so far, and before she could surrender to it again, she grabbed her jacket and bag, shoving the key in hee back pocket. She calmed herself down the whole way with the thought that nothing would go wrong, and suddenly the promise of free alcohol didn't sound that bad after all.

* * * * *

The woman pulled into the parking lot next to the building in total darkness. Even from the road, the illuminated sign was clearly visible; the Aurora welcomed those who wanted to have fun with open arms tonight. Carefully pulling on the worn-out jacket, she started towards the entrance wearing the blouse she had just put on for the first, and most certainly for the last time in her life.

Uncomfortable and too cut out, she thought. She sneaked through the door and immediately stopped, all she could manage to say was: "Damn thing this is."

The music was louder than it should have been for the ears, she could almost feel the blood rushing in hee eardrums. At some places, the lights were as blinding as on the sign outside, the inhalation of the smell of alcohol and people was unavoidable. This wasn't a nice little bar where you sit at the end of the day, Lyra realized, but a party place. Why though, hardly any young people live here!

She ventured inside, since she can't stand leaning against the door. She fought her way through the people – not many, but there were noticeably enough to block her way – and reached the bar, where a man was wiping the glasses deep in thought. Lyra plopped down on a chair and waited patiently for him to notice. As she did so, she scanned the tattooed black haired from head to toe. All his movements were measured and determined as he placed the whiskey glasses one by one. He looked quite like a bartender, she came to the conclusion.

"What can I give you?" He asked without looking at her. Lyra watched from the side as his Adam's apple bounced up and down his tattooed neck. It's pretty scary that someone can stand someone drawing it full on there. The guy must be a sociopath.

"Something pretty strong and a lot."

At that, he suddenly turned his head to the woman who was resting her elbow on the counter. He, too, studied her, brows narrowed in thought. Or maybe he was surprised? Did he find her question unclear?

"Lyra, am I wrong?"

"Nince meeting you in person, Phil." She held out her hand for him to shake.

"Surprising you found your way here after all these months."

Lyra watched as he set to make her drink, trying to answer with a good composure. "I remembered your invitation. Would've been rude to forget about it." The silence was long, so before it got awkward, she quickly asked, "Have you talked to Jessy?"

"I should've?"

She stared back at him in disbelief. "She's sister! She's in a terrible state because of the loss of a friend, you emotionally cold prick! Of course–"

"Quiet," he hushed, nervously running his eyes over the crowd. Even if they wanted to, they wouldn't have heard anything. If it wasn't for the music, then because of the alcohol. "And don't call me a prick."

The woman forced herself to calm down. "I'll call you whatever the fuck I want since I take better care of her than her own brother."

Phil shrugged and reached for another bottle, but Lyra didn't even have time to finish the first glass. "What are you doing?"

"Drink." He pointed at the ingredients. "This is my job."

"I didn't ask for a new one."

"You're my guest, drink as much as I make. Drink as much of them as you can, of course."

As if this were a challenge, Lyra took the half-finished cocktail from him and drank it up with two sips. Phil watched in amusement how that woman whom he just met in person – a rather pretty one, he had to admit – was so easily offended.

"Better give me a shot. Or two. This," she pointed to the now empty elegant glass, "was nothing."

And it went on like this for long hours. Phil didn't talk to anyone all night except the increasingly talkative woman who was drinking alcohol like others eat sugar. As the numbness began to take control over her body and soul, she began to feel better and better, and she didn't understand why she hadn't done this before. It seemed much easier to forget about Jake and the problems, even the fact that she was very much in Duskwood, from where she would have to drive home.

All she could see was Phil and the liquids floating in the lights, more and more of which she was putting into herself than it was in the bottles. The glasses just piled up in front of her, Phil after a while watching her in concern, which easily faded as he listened to her words.

"Tell me," she tried to swallow, but her dry throat didn't let her, "is this place always like this?"

The man laughed and looked at the woman and the dancers behind her. "No, not at all. As a matter of fact, you're in luck today, because I don't often organize such fast-paced evenings. But I did it by popular demand, you actually just wandered into a guy's birthday party."

The realization crept into her brain so slowly it was ridiculous. She lowered her head to the counter in shame, muttering a line in annoyance until two warm hands lifted it up.

"Get your pretty head up from there ."

"I'm sorry, I–"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, I was already bored to death here. They aren't very talkative with the bartender. But you," he poked a finger at her forehead, Lyra going cross-eyed to see what's there that he needed to point it out, "you came and saved me, love."

"I'm not love," she grimaced, watching the fingers move away.

"Well, we can easily help with that."

She hummed and nodded, as if she understood anything from Phil's complicated words. She reached for another shot, the sips traveling down her throat more and more slowly. What time was it? She needs to go home.

"I'm now... going home now– okay?"

"You're not going yet, Lyra, stay a while."

"I'm not going? Now... why wouldn't I go?" She looked at the grinning man in confusion.

"Because I don't want you to yet."

The bartender again turned the woman's gaze towards him, which had been wandering towards the exit. He was out of the counter in a few long steps, plopped down on a chair next to Lyra, taking a sip of a drink. Lyra looked at him with interest, since he shouldn't be there now, he was standing somewhere else before. She found another glass in her hand, this time for unknown reasons. Without thinking, she chugged it, an unpleasant feeling running down the back of her neck, burning into her lungs. Then another one. She could barely swallow the honey-colored liquid, a new one was already there, like some kind of miraculous magic, recharging itself.

"Maybe I should some water–"

"Shush, we don't give that here."

Oh. So no water, okay. Okay. Okay?

She felt fingers on her own, but they were definitely not hers. One, two...six, nine, that's twelve, she counted the body parts to herself, the rising warmth that made the hair stand up even where it didn't touch. Eagerly, ever higher.

Phil stroked the flushed face, the touch seeming both soft and hungry, far from tender... Lyra stared down at the remaining brownish drink in her hands, debating whether to drink it, when she heard a deep voice so close to her it felt like it's coming from her very own body.

"You're such a lovely young lady, such a waste you come from so far away. We can't let you drive tonight, can we?"

"No..." she mumbled, because honestly, even that one word seemed hard to articulate properly. Intoxicated not just by the alcohol, but that something dusgustingly creeping through her body. She focused so hard on trying figure it out that she didn't even notice the screeching of her own chair. Something wrapped around her legs that hold her close, a feeling of warmness and strong, strong grip, and suddenly she had four legs. How the hell did she just get four of them? Where did they come from?

The fingers continued to map the skin incessantly, burrowing into the freshly washed hair at the base of her neck.

"Olive, am I right?" The voice hummed in her ear. Olive? That's not delicious.

Something sticky and moving traced itself along her jaw, and that was the last straw the drunk woman could take. The new legs around her were acceptable, but this new thing – a bug, fingers, lips? – on her face was too much. The chair creaked loudly on the floor and she nervously began to search for a way out through the heaving crowd. An arm grabbed hers, spun her around a few times, then let her go again, finding a better dance partner. Lyra, on the brink of an impending panic attack, stumbled on until she felt something solid and cool under her fingers. She pressed the doorknob hard, and she stumbled out of the bar, all tipsy and halfway unconscious.

She took a look at the parking lot, scanning the cars shrouded in darkness with the brown eyes, desperately searching for a grey one. She found it, then another, and then one more.

Okay, then we're not going by car.

In the cool night, where not even the Moon nor the stars decided to come for her help, Lyra ran and ran until her lungs collapsed inside her chest, heart pounding louder than the shoes against the gravel, and her legs felt like they might give out at any moment.

As if this was the way her body wanted to cleanse itself of the unpleasant alcohol, she felt tears on her burning cheeks, but she continued to jog. To where, she didn't know, but far away from there, to a place where there is no excess of people and alcohol, no intrusive touches, and no Phil Hawkins.

Even the rain poured down, pelting the ground with all its might. Maybe it also wanted to cleanse itself of some terrible, disgusting feeling? Or is this how it punishes those who cannot protect themselves from this?

"What did I do to deserve this?!" She shouted, staring up at the sky, her words lost in the night. She just stood and cried in the middle of the road, not a soul in sight to hear her obvious suffer from the pain she didn't ask for. She has no car, no dignity, Jake left her just like that, Richy ruined lives, she's a horrible person, and she's too drunk to walk to the side of the road to avoid being hit by a speeding driver.

Sobbing, she took out her phone and called the first person on the list.

"Hello? Lyra– why are you crying?"

She took a deep breath as she explained everything to Jessy. She drove to Duskwood because she's totally nuts, and there's no denying that. Also went to the Aurora, where she found herself uninvited at a guy's birthday party, and that made her feel even worse. She drank, talked, and her brother is a total jerk for whom she can't find a better adjective at the moment. It's too dark and raining and her whole life is crap.

"And I've got this bloody blouse on, and those extra two legs! Jessy, I don't want it on me!"

"Lyra, listen here," she tried to get the brunette's attention, feeling that this was not the right moment to discuss why she thinks she has four legs. "Look around and tell me what do you see, okay? A house, sign, bench, flowers, a car, do you see anything?"

Lyra sniffed and looked, but she couldn't make out much in the cloudy night. "Well, there's a nice house here, oh how I'd like to live in one like thaz! There are more next to it, and two black cars on the right side... I'll go see what else there is."

"No! Don't move from there, Lyra, do you hear me? Stay put. I'll be right there to get you, understand?"

Feet rooted to the ground, she was standing on the road, just blinking in the rain. It was pouring without wanting to stop.

"There's also a nice looking rose bush," she said suddenly. "Oh, there's more! Dark flowers, Jessy, they look like black flowers! Can you imagine such?"

For long moments, there was only shuffling on the other end of the line. Lyra checked several times to see if the line was broken, but she didn't understand much of the words, and the flickering screen was quite painful to look at.

"Wait, I see you! You're in front of my house!

And really. A woman stood in the window, waving at her. The movement seemed too fast for Lyra, dizzyingly fast. The figure suddenly disappeared and a warm light flooded from the front door, a woman in pajamas clutching an umbrella rushing towards her. Muttering desperate words, she ushered her in, and in no more than a few moments she was standing in a hallway dripping wet, as the tousled redhead rushed around her.

"You're drunk! What happened, Lyra?"

She didn't get an answer, but she didn't expect one either. Jessy dried her off and changed her into more comfortable clothes. While she spread the soaked clothes on the chairs, she pressed a glass of water into her hand, telling her to drink it until she returned. Lyra felt like a small child again, fearing the wrath of her strict mother and doing everything she was told.

Jessy soon returned and took the glasd from her with a satisfied nod and they sat down – Lyra collapsed – on the couch. The redhead wanted nothing more than to have her tell everything that happened to her, but given the her condition, she just pulled Lyra close and held her.

"I thought," she whispered by herself into her neck, "if I came here, maybe it would be better. But it didn't get better. I went into the bar, you know."

Jessy hummed in understanding, but she didn't stop, the words just kept rolling off her tongue.

"I drank one glass, then two, after the third I don't remember how much more, but I didn't even count. It was really bad, but for some reason I was still sipping the alcohol. Then... your brother... You know exactly what he's like..."

"I know," she placed a small kiss on the top of her head. "It's okay now."

"I'm constantly afraid and nervous," she looked up into the pair of brown eyes with her own tearful ones and she saw in them all the sadness in the world, including what Lyra hadn't said yet. "I miss him. I want Jake here, just this one thing. I want to know… I want to know everything so I can die peacefully."

"Oh Lyra," she held her close, which was almost impossible, since there was not an inch between them. "Don't be dramatic, you dolt."

"I'm going to die someday anyway."

"Yes, but not now. By then, Jake will reach out and the two of you will have reconciled nicely, all the truth will be revealed and there will be no more secrets."

"Do you seriously think so?" She looked up hopefully at the smiling face. She smiles so reassuringly…

"The most seriously."

And Jessy was often right. Not always, but when Lyra felt she was right, it usually was the case. And now she felt it. Two can't be wrong, can they?

That night, she ended up falling asleep in Jessy's arms. For the first time in seven months she felt safe, so she spent the next seven one there; most of the time with quiet nights, next to Jessy, in secret, knowing nothing about Jake.

#is this even considered sad?#prepare for worse ones #phil hawkins #jessy hawkins #mc duskwood #jake donfort #short story #oneshot #duskwood

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writersmilex · 1 year

Text

Hangover Nurse

Pickles The Drummer X Fem Reader

Summary : (Y/n) finds a drunk Pickles on the street and takes him home to take care of him.

_____________________________

(Y/n) lets out a deep sigh as she leaves the establishment where she works, her long shift is finally over. It seemed like it was dragging on forever, that always happens on slow days like this. Now (Y/n) can finally go home and get the rest they deserve, maybe down a glass of wine or two to ease her nerves a bit. She is blessed with the fact that she lives only 3 blocks away from her job, she can walk that easily. Even if it’s late and getting quite dark, she shouldn’t have to worry about walking home in what is practically her neighbourhood.

(Y/n) goes through the familiar street, passing a wide alley next to a restaurant. The alley is meant for the rubbish containers of that restaurant and for their supply chain to reach the back easily. (Y/n) has remembered that the resupply of the restaurant is on Wednesday and Friday, It’s Tuesday today…

(Y/n) shrieks as she misses a step and nearly trips as something grabs hold of her ankle suddenly. She glances down and sees a hand around her ankle, clutching the fabric of her jeans tightly, around the hand’s wrist is a very distinctive blue sweatband.

"Eeeyyy... (Y/N)!" Pickles the drummer drags himself out of the alley with his other arm. And once he reached her he clings to her leg with both hands, squeezing her calf.

"Pickles? How the fuck did you get all the way here!" (Y/n) yells out in surprise, grabbing Pickles by his arms to hoist him up on his feet. Pickles groans in discomfort with the sudden movement, stumbling to keep his balance and slightly failing to do so.

"ahyyy... Got Whiskeeeyy an-aaand followww tha' ra-rabbit! ..." Pickles slurs loudly, leaning his full weight on (Y/n) completely, causing her to also struggle to hold her balance with a grown man leaning on her. “Oh, for fucks sake… Pickles. Where have you been now?” (Y/n) complains, besides asking she doesn’t really want an answer to her question in all honesty. Besides, it’s not really her business. “I dunno…” Pickles shrugs, hanging over her shoulders. “I dunno where I aaaaam now… But somebody threw trash everywheeeere!” He gapes at the grossness of the alleyway where he was just found. Trash and a singular rat scattered across the concrete ground. It appears that (Y/n) doesn’t have much of a choice. Then again, she’ll probably get scolded by Charles if she doesn’t do the right thing, right now. "ugh, I'll get you out of here, and over to my place." (Y/n) sighs heavily in annoyance and starts walking towards the direction of her apartment, dragging a drunk man along with them, one of his arms draped over her shoulders and one of her arms holding him up by his waist.

Pickles giggles in a rather high tone, "Your place or mineeee~." He slurs slowly while trying to sound seductive. But the look on his drooping and drunk face only makes it sound gross.

(Y/n) scoffs, she knows that he is completely hammered right now. And it seems that he doesn’t remember all the other times (Y/n) had turned him down over the years they have known each other, he was too drunk for her those times, and he always is. "We’re going to mine… Don't think too much of it!" (Y/n) huffs, this is going to be a long night. Hopefully, it’ll be shorter if she walks slightly faster.

~~~~

"Maaaannn! theees place eesss so fuckin' smo-smoll!" Pickles comments and burps right after as (Y/n) finally manages to open the door of her apartment with her foot. The small enough-to-be-called-a-studio apartment is just like (Y/n) had left it this morning. It’s too messy to accept quests, but she is sure that Pickles doesn’t care about that. He had seen her apartment when she just moved in 4 years ago.

"yeah well, having a huge multi-mansion like Mordhaus isn't very fucking practical either." (Y/n) argues back and kicks the front door closed with her foot once the two are both inside, the door is now closed and it’s dark in the apartment, the only light source is the city lights from the outside of her window, still light enough to see where you’re going.

(Y/n) manoeuvres over to the second-hand sofa and carelessly drops Pickles on it.

"eagerrrr ar-are ya huh?" He slurs, then he fumbles to try and fails to take off his pants. (Y/n) is quick to snatch his arm and pull it away, Pickles nearly loses balance by the movement. He decided to take that as a ‘no’.

"stop that!" She demands, growing more and more frustrated with the man and his behaviour. She swiftly moves to the other side of the sofa. She grabs both of his legs roughly to take off his sneakers, placing his legs back on the sofa to make sure he is lying down on it now. "You're gonna stay here and sleep until the morning!" (Y/n) orders sternly, pointing to the furniture Pickles is half-lying on.

"Youuuuu... go-got it!!" He hiccups, putting his thumbs up with a stupid drooling smile. And then right after that, Pickles blacks out on the sofa.

"Holy shit..." (Y/n) huffs in exhaustion, stretching her back after standing up. Maybe she popped something while dragging him to her place, he is heavier than he looks. Not to mention how sour he smells. (Y/n) figures that Pickles should be fine where he is. One last look at him and they take off to go to her own bedroom.

~~the next morning~~

Another day. Another hangover follows. It is something that he’ll never get used to, even after most of his teenage years and adult life until now, one single hangover still manages to knock him down a tad.

His vision is blurry and his head is pounding, it feels like there is a construction going on right outside the window. He doesn't recognize the blurry colours of the small room. Where the hell did he end up now? Despite that he is not sure where he is, it feels safe. Hopefully, he’ll figure it out later…

Moving his head in the slightest causes the construction outside to get louder, causing the drummer to groan in discomfort. Sliding his legs off the couch he was lying to stand up. His legs feel like jelly and instantly give away once he puts pressure on them, causing him to tumble and fall over.

"oof," he complains, using his hands to break his fall on time. Luckily there is a rug on the floor. His head is spinning, along with the blurry colours of the room. A brilliant mix of orange, grey and blue.

"Be careful now. You're not new to this, right." (Y/n) walks into the living room. A cup of some warm steaming beverage in one of her hands. "(Y/n)? Is that you?" Pickles squints to sharpen his blurry vision.

(Y/n) sighs and puts the cup of a warm beverage on the stylish coffee table. "yeah, c'mon let's go to the bathroom." (Y/n) says and grabs Pickles' arms to pick him up and help him to the bathroom.

"why-" the drummer cuts himself off as he feels the contents of his stomach rise.

"yep, bathroom it is." he groans, clutching his stomach with one hand. (Y/n) makes sure to get to her bathroom as quickly as possible. She doesn’t have any sawdust left to clean up bile effectively.

And now they’re in the bathroom. Pickles is hunched over the toilet and (Y/n) is sitting on the side of the bathtub, holding his dreadlocks back in one hand as he empties his stomach in the toilet of her bathroom. (Y/n) has no idea how Pickles got into her neighbourhood. And frankly, she doesn’t even want to know. It probably involved alcohol, drugs or both. And that explains enough for her.

Surely, she would have to call Charles and maybe Nathan later to let the band know where their drummer is. He is with the band-friend this time. "argh!" Pickles spits his despair into the toilet, making the noise echo a little bit in the small two-bedroom apartment that (Y/n) owns.

"you put this upon yourself, you know? Why even?" (Y/n) says matter-of-factly. Despite complaining about the situation, she remains by his side, holding back his dreads.

"yeeh, Fuck!" Pickles snaps back in frustration. (Y/n) only growls in response, returning the equal frustration. Then takes her phone to call Charles. Pickles continues to hug the toilet and (Y/n) is making calls while remaining seated on the side of the bathtub.

"This sight of you is really sad y'know. I don’t want to keep worrying about where you’ll end up next." (Y/n) says while scrolling through her contacts to search for the number of the band manager and lawyer. And maybe there is some tea left for Pickles as well. That should do him good.

Pickles stays silent, still hanging over the toilet. He thinks it’s funny that the toilet itself smells rather clean, (Y/n) keeps track of her cleaning. He can hear (Y/n)’s footsteps leaving the bathroom.

He sighs and slowly gets on back on his feet, flushes the toilet then goes to the sink to drink water and wash the taste of vomit away. Then Pickles washes his face with the fresh cool water, then looks in the bathroom mirror. He looks horrible, that's what he thinks personally. A complete mess of a human being… He has been like that for as long as he can remember. And he can hardly remember his younger years anyway! The drummer remains staring blankly at his reflection for a while, before noticing something colourful in the corner of his sight.

A neon pink sticky post-it note on the right corner of the mirror. It reads: You are great! It makes Pickles smirk a little. He thinks that (Y/n) must have placed it there to motivate herself. It's kind of cute, he should do that too! ~~~~

(Y/n) is looking out of the window, the level of her apartment gives her a decent view of the sad little town. It gives her something to look at while she makes phone calls.

"yeah, yeah I will... I'll be seeing you once you decide to pick him up… I don’t trust him to make it home by himself, you know?” (Y/n) speaks to Charles on the other side of the line, surely he can understand her concerns. As a close friend of the band from the beginning, Charles has entrusted (Y/n) to keep an eye on the band when he cannot. She was already doing that anyway…

“understood, I’ll make sure a dethlimo will pick him up soon, keep an eye on him, alright.” Charles’s monotone voice holds a pinch of serenity, it is known to her that he does care about the band. With the way he calls them ‘the boys’ so affectionately. Although she has never really known how he feels about her, despite being with the band for longer. It’s not very relevant right now.

“will do, bye." (Y/n) hangs up her phone and walks into the kitchen to fetch a drink for Pickles. She still has some tea left, which should make him feel better. Never mind all the times she had nursed Pickles out of a hangover before, not to mention the rest of the band. They always say that caring is not Metal, but her moral compass judges her as well. (Y/n) pours some remaining hot tea into another mug for the drummer. She then takes the mug and re-enters the living room where she places the tea for Pickles next to her own nearly forgotten beverage on the worn coffee table.

"Pickles? You okay in there?" She shouts at the open doorway of the bathroom, she can’t see into the bathroom from this angle. "ahm Fine, hold on!" She hears him shout back, and then she hears a tap open and close before footsteps stumble into the hall, and the light of the bathroom turns off. (Y/n) takes a seat, and not long after, Pickles enters the room. He looks a bit better already, leaning on the doorpost to aid his balance. He still does look tired though.

(Y/n) offers the drummer a lazy smile, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. "come sit, I made some tea for you." She offers and gestures to the mug that’s steaming on the coffee table. (Y/n) already has her mug, taking small sips from it, the beverage was hotter than she had expected, she truly believed that it had cooled down already.

Pickles gives (Y/n) a look of confusion with a hint of intrigue. "Tea? Neva’ had that before. Is it alcoholic?" he shuffles over and takes a seat right next to her. The sofa feels sturdy but still comfortable.

"No…” (Y/n) shakes her head, a little amused. “Here you go.” (Y/n) reaches for Pickles’ mug of tea meant for him. Pickles flexes his fingers before taking the drink from his friend. Pickles stares at the drink for a moment. The warmth of the beverage comforted his cramped and calloused hands. It kind of has the same colour as whiskey except that it’s warm to the touch.

"it'll do you good." (Y/n) says after already finishing her own drink. Her tea is a little too warm to drink comfortably, but at least that wakes her up more, as it’s still 8:30 in the morning. Hesitating for a moment, he takes a sip, tastes it and then smiles to himself. It tastes quite good...

_______________________________________

Some pickles here, enjoy.

Thanks for reading.

-Smilex

#metalocalypse x reader #x reader #reader insert #metalocalypse #metalocalypse imagines #dethklok imagines #imagines #fluff #pickles the drummer #pickles the drummer x reader

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climbthemountain2020 · 5 months

Text

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 22

With a different mood board today as a Tilly tribute!

Part 23/26 | Ao3

Eris

Eris almost tripped over his third hound since entering the room; they twined around his legs like predators as he moved forward across the soft white carpet in the dark. It was early evening, but Eris still did not turn on any lights.

“I hope you don’t twist around Tilly’s feet this way, you beasts. If you trip her, we’ll be having a much different talk,” he sighed as he lowered himself into the chair by the window. Hestia cocked her head, looking up at him. Finding his bemused expression, she huffed and lay her head down on his knee. He obliged and ran a hand down her back.

Cinder was nowhere to be seen, likely with Tilly as he always was these days, nose pressed to her side, her stomach, her chest. He always needed to be near her, and as amusing as Eris found it, he also liked the comfort of knowing their little fireling already had such a fierce protector.

He sat back in the plush chair, taking in the sight of the room. Soft yellow walls looked like the changing leaves of a maple in late season, and the white gossamer curtains fluttered in a lovely way when someone walked past them. The crib was made of a dark polished oak to match the towering bookshelves, already brimming with books and knick-knacks of all sorts. Inside the crib was a pretty maroon blanket with a small matching knitted rabbit Alanna had made and sent from Day. A sewn bat plush, sent from the Night Court, of course, sat next to it.

Eris liked to come into this room, day or night, and just sit. He sometimes couldn’t believe it was all real, so he’d come here to remind himself. In just a few months, his son or daughter would be here, rocking in this chair with him or Tilly, sleeping in that crib under their watchful eyes, hearing but not really understanding the words on the pages of the books they read him or her. He closed his eyes and tried to picture it–the domesticity that still felt so wonderfully fragile and precious to him. He didn’t know if he deserved it after all he’d done, but he knew he’d fight to keep it to the very last breath in his lungs.

“Hello, love.” He opened his eyes as her voice, like the sound of bells, flitted to him from the doorway, Cinder bumping in at her side. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, just thinking.” She came over to him, sliding down to sit in his lap and resting her head on his chest in the dark. He smelled the salty tinge of tears in her scent. She’d been at her session. “Are you all done for the evening?”

Tilly sighed and nodded against him. “It was tough tonight.” Eris had finally convinced her to speak to someone after the nightmares had begun preventing her from getting any of the sleep she so desperately needed. It had been a little over a month now, but he could see the change in her, even if he hated that the sessions made her cry. Cedar was an older fae–much, much older than Eris–with skin like the bark of a tree and a voice so low and soft and smooth that it felt like honey to his ears. He’d liked her immediately, and had even spoken to her a few times himself. Tilly liked her, but not so much the exercises she had her doing. She knew it was helpful for her, though, so she saw it through. The nightmares had lessened significantly, and things were beginning to finally feel safe.

He hummed, smoothing a hand over her belly–his favorite thing to do–and rubbing gently. He was greeted with a sharp kick to his hand, and a grunt and laugh from Tilly. He loved feeling the baby move and punch and kick, and he loved feeling their magic dance with his, as it often did. It never became any less miraculous or awe-inducing to him.

“They’re a tumbler today.” She laughed, leaning back against him, letting him press his hand across her stomach again to feel the movements. He felt the roll of his child beneath the skin of his mate, and, as it did every time, it threatened to undo him entirely. Tilly turned to press a kiss to his jaw as he swallowed the emotion balling up in his throat.

“Have you an outfit picked for Spring yet?” She asked. Tamlin and Penny’s wedding was the day after tomorrow. They’d not be staying there, but she had wanted their outfits to somewhat coordinate. He’d picked a deep red jacket with black trousers, gold trimming around both. He knew one of her favorite dresses that still made her comfortable was a deep red, too.

“The dark red jacket with the gold embroidery. The one with the leaves.” Her smile lit her face.

“Oh, I’ve got the perfect dress to match!” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Would you like to go to the woods and work on your portals some more tomorrow?” They’d been doing that more the past month, too. With Beron gone, there wasn’t much risk left of allowing people to know she possessed magic, but they'd been keeping the portals under wraps for strategic use in the war ahead. They’d been practicing in the woods, as well as seeing the boundaries of Eris’ new High Lord powers, and both of them were becoming dangerously good. Tilly could open great swaths of sky, the borders flaming wildly, to just about anywhere. They planned to transport their armies this way on the battlefield, using the advantage of portals to move them about and gain the upper hand.

They’d been concerned that, with the pregnancy, they’d need to be more careful about her using magic in case it depleted her, but they’d found it did the opposite. The baby was clearly magically inclined and very powerful–both Eris and Tilly could feel the baby’s powers mingling with their own–but it seemed that the baby’s magic amplified Tilly’s own, too. She was growing her magic in its own right, but she was getting a true boost from their power, as well.

“I’ve actually got something else in mind for tomorrow, if you’re interested.”

“I’m always interested in anything you want to show me, love.” Eris whispered into her ear.

“Well, in that case, you rake, I can show you something back in our bedroom.”

Eris didn’t need to be told twice before he swept Tilly up in his arms, both of them laughing and Tilly shrieking, as he walked them back to their bedroom, navigating the dogs around their heels as they went.

Tilly

Tilly and Eris had left the grounds of the Forest House for the woods early enough that they’d been some of the first awake aside from the kitchen staff, and the fog was still low to the ground.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going, darling. Will you be winnowing us?” Tilly smiled at him.

“I thought we might fly?” Both Tilly and Eris had been thrilled when he’d discovered his beast form with his new powers. They’d both assumed he’d have the same form as Beron, so their delight had been unimaginable when, upon shifting, he’d emerged a massive black dragon with smooth, shimmering scales the shade of the night sky and a barbed tail and wings the scarlet of fire. Eris had been shocked enough that he’d accidentally burned a copse of trees to the ground while Tilly hopped around the new clearing in delight.

They’d played a bit, marveling at this new form, and Tilly hadn’t had to prod too hard to allow her on his back. They’d spent days flying high above the trees of Autumn, sailing through the breeze to the seas and the mountains and back. He moved so quickly in the skies, and she loved to lean back and lay across him with her arms spread wide. She felt safe with him, no matter the conditions of their travel; she knew he’d never let her fall.

“Of course, my lady. Where will we be flying to?”

“Caritta, near the border of Winter.” Eris tried and failed to hide his surprise.

“Near your old home?” She nodded resolutely as he shifted, blowing smoke from his nose as he held out a giant, clawed limb to help her climb him, holding still as she settled on his back.

“Yes, I’d like to bring you to my parents’ graves.”

+++

The wind had been a brisk chill over them as they traveled to the northernmost borders of Autumn, rising above the fog and into the sunlight. Eris was always as warm in this form as he was in is fae one, and Tilly loved letting that warmth seep into her skin and keep her from feeling the chill. He circled gently, settling down softly on the snow-covered ground of the old stone cemetery that Tilly directed him to. She hadn’t been here since before she’d been taken to her uncle’s manor what seemed like eons ago.

She dismounted and heard Eris shift back, stretching his limbs and coming up beside her as she scanned the quiet cemetery. The air was crisp as a breeze blew around them, tossing Tilly’s hair around her eyes. She felt Eris tuck a piece behind her ear then take her hand in his. She led them over to the familiar patch of earth, overgrown now from time and lack of visitors. She pushed back the vines and undergrowth, gently removing them and bringing the stones back into the sunlight. She let her fingers brush over their names.

Kieran Beck Loving Father and Husband

Gianna Beck Loving Mother and Wife

She was glad that they were still together, even in death. She hoped they could see her now; she hoped they were at peace. Tilly hated that it had been so long since she’d come here–hated that no one else visited either.

“Hi Mum. Hi Dad.” Her voice broke as she spoke, Eris kneeling down beside her. His presence and constant warmth was her touchstone, giving her the strength she needed as he wrapped his fingers around her own. “I know–I know it’s been awhile. I had to go with Uncle Donal for a bit, and then I was off a bit further than that, even. But I’ve brought someone very special back with me today for you both to meet. This is Eris Vanserra, my husband and my mate. Strange world, huh?”

She heard Eris snort a laugh next to her, and she laid her head on his shoulder. “He’s wonderful. He’s absolutely everything. I wish you could meet him and love him as much as I do.” She felt his hand squeeze hers, and the tears began to fall in earnest. “We’re going to be parents soon…only a few more months now. And I–” A sob escaped her chest. “I wish you were here. More than anything I wish you were here. I have no idea how to be a parent, and I know you’d tell me that we’ll figure it all out, and we will. Eris will be a wonderful father, but I still miss you both so much. I know you’d love to be here.” Her breath rattled through her chest, and she couldn’t quite catch up. She tried to steady her heart to speak again, but her eyes widened in surprise when Eris began to speak.

“It’s wonderful to meet you both. I’m sure, as a Vanserra, you’ve got some opinions about me in name only, but it truly is an honor for me to be here. You both raised a strong, fearsome, lovely female. She’s helping me change the court, one day at a time, and you would both be so proud of the things she’s accomplished.” Tilly snorted, but Eris continued on. “She also–” He paused to take a breath. “She saved my life. She’s saved my life, multiple times in multiple ways. We did not seek each other out, but fate led us together anyway, and from what Tilly has told me, you might have seen that coming.” He touched her mother’s stone gently. “Tilly brought me from the darkest corners of the world–brought me out into the light, and stood by my side–continues to stand by my side–when the darkness creeps in. I’ve never met a stronger person…she astounds me. It’s the privilege of my life to love her. Thank you both so much for the joy of her.”

Tilly was sobbing outright now as they both placed their hands on the stones, leaving a small pebble behind on each. They dried their eyes as Tilly had a few more moments of quiet with them, and, when she was finally ready, she took Eris’ hand and they walked back to the clearing hand in hand.

“Thank you for being here, Eris.”

“Thank you for bringing me, Tilly.”

+++

Spring was as chilly as Autumn when they arrived, winnowing in on the decorated front lawn of the manor. Fae lights had been strung along the beautiful opening, and flowers of all different types and colors lined the backyard where the ceremony would take place. Tilly and Eris had volunteered to arrive early in order to throw wards around the ceremony and manor doors to keep the heat in through the wedding and reception.

“Just like the Spring court to insist on an outdoor wedding in the dead of winter,” Eris groused as they made their way around the seating area. As Tilly and Eris raised the wards, some others began to filter in, filling the area with laughter and chatter. She recognized almost everyone from the High Lord’s meeting in Dawn, waving and nodding to the others as she slowly made her way around. When she and Eris met on the other side, closing the final gap, she leaned into him as he wound his arm around her.

“You look beautiful, Til. Tonight, and always.” He rubbed his hand over the side of her tummy, growing larger and firmer every day, often far warmer than the rest of her with the heat of the baby growing inside. “How’s my little princess today?”

“I hope you’re referring to me. The little prince, however, is doing just fine. Having a grand old time kicking his mother in the ribs every so often, as though I’d ever forget his presence.” This was a fun argument that they liked to go back and forth on now. Eris was certain beyond measure that they were having a daughter. He’d suggested name after name, always referring to the baby as a “her”, and detailing stories of brave maidens who turned into knights when he read to her belly at night. Tilly, however, was sure they were having a boy, a tiny little lordling who would, hopefully, favor their father. Deep down, Tilly knew that Eris was hoping for a girl out of nerves. He’d said as much repeatedly when he told her he didn’t think he’d be any good at raising a son. He’d had no guidance on how things should be, and he was scared history would repeat itself.

Despite her constant reassurance that, as long as he truly loved their child, he would be wonderful, Eris was scared and Tilly could tell. All she could do was tell him repeatedly how much she loved him, and how good of a father she knew he’d be. She’d say it until he believed it himself, or otherwise their son showed up and proved it to him.

They found their seats, snuggling close to each other in the nice humming warmth they’d provided. The ceremony was beautiful, her head finding Eris’ shoulder at one point as she remembered their own ceremony.

“You know, if you asked me about any details of our wedding ceremony, I couldn’t tell you a thing past the color of your eyes and the blush on your cheekbones?”

Eris huffed a quiet laugh at her. “I thought I’d died and gone to some heaven trying to make up for all the horrors I’d survived under Beron when I saw you. I thought surely, there’s a mistake. This is the most glorious creature I’ve ever seen.” Tilly laughed quietly back, turning her chin to press a kiss to his embroidered shoulder, then leaning back up so her lips grazed his ear.

“I’m so glad it was you, Eris.” She pressed another tiny kiss there as he shivered, pulling back as he turned to look into her eyes, his rimmed with an almost undetectable ring of silver.

“I would marry you a million times over, Matilda.” Her smile reached ear to ear as she laid her head back down on his arm, their love and the love of others radiating in the air around them.

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd @queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #vanserra brothers #flame of autumn #arranged marriage #allies to lovers #eris vanserra x oc #acotar smut #Eris smut #eris vanserra fluff

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