#and then it thundered so i said DO NOT DARE GET IN ANY WATER

[livelaughlovekny]

Taking care of Muichirou when he is sick

Summary: Muichirou caught a cold after not listening to you and you had to take care of him (+Bonus)

  His form and movements were precise and perfect as always. To anyone else, nothing about his seemingly stoic appearance seemed off. You knew though. You weren’t anyone else; you were the “stubborn Tsukugo who enjoys being tormented”. His lips had paled ever so slightly. His eyes weren’t their usual mint green. His skin was less glossy. This has been going on for more than a week and you saw that signs were starting to get worse. Muichirou was sick.

  After your usual training session, you observed him silently. Muichirou continued on with his habit of wiping his sword, sheathing it before proceeding to his own physical training. You contemplated telling him your “findings” and suggesting he visit the Butterfly Estate. Were you overreacting though? Perhaps he was just affected by the heat and not his health. Well, it wouldn’t hurt too much if you asked him just in case right? You stared at him, a minute had barely passed, he was already completing 146 push-ups and continuing without any obvious signs of discomfort or pain. “Hey, are you, like, sick or unwell?”

  Not pausing his training, he replied, “No.” Ah, well, if he said so. You still didn’t quite believe him since this was the same person who was said to have nearly trained himself to death but decided not to push it any further.

  After completing your break, you started on your own workouts too. 2147 sit-ups later, you heard the sound of thunder cracking and saw lightning flash. Picking up your pace, you tried to at least reach 2200 sit-ups before seeking shelter in the Mist Estate. Moments later, rain poured down. Groaning, you hurriedly got up and rushed into the estate. Your training had been disturbed but at least you could continue in the estate.

  Finding a suitable spot, you were about to continue when you notice Muichirou still outside practising his stances and swinging his sword repeatedly. A thunderstorm is currently taking place and yet he still continues training outside. “You’ll get sick. Come in and find another way to train.” You were ignored.

  The day continued on as usual. You continued with your usual workout in the estate while Muichirou continued with his training outside the estate and under the rain. You went to bed and so did he. You woke up the next day fine. He didn’t.

  You knew immediately because your room was facing his. Upon opening your bedroom door, you noticed two very wrong things. One, his bedroom door was closed. Muichirou always wakes up before you and only closes his door when he’s inside. Two, you heard loud coughing coming from his room. You knocked twice on his door before sliding it open, not waiting for any response.

  Muichirou was lying on his mattress, curled up in a foetal position and coughing heavily. God, why don’t people listen to you when you bring up good points? Makes you wonder who the stubborn ones really are. Pushing his fringe away, you lay the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning. “Stop touching me, I can handle myself.” Muichirou pushed your hand away. You snorted.

  “Don’t bother, hold on, I’ll be back soon.” Despite his previous protest, he made no effort to stop you from whatever you were going to do. Leaving his room, you mutter to yourself about how you had no idea how to care for sick people, much less stubborn and idiotic ones. Drenching a towel in a bowl of cold water, you brought the bowl to his room. Setting the bowl down, you sat down and squeezed the towel before folding it neatly and placing it on Muichirou's forehead. “What are you doing?” Swatting his hand that was reaching for the towel away, you glared at him. “Stop it, you’re clearly sick and dying. Don’t you dare refuse my efforts to care for you.”

  “I’m not dying.” You replied instantly, “To be fair, everyone is dying.” Silence. Triumphantly, you smiled. You knew he would say that and prepared a response beforehand. “Now, lie still and quietly while I write a letter to the Butterfly Estate for advice on how to care for sick, stubborn dummies.”  No response, you’ll take that as a win too. Laughing internally, you left his room and went to yours.

  A few minutes later, your crow was flying off to the Butterfly Estate. Returning to Muichirou’s room, you note that he was lying still and silently. Muichirou stared at the ceiling with a blank expression. Unsure what else you were supposed to do, you leaned forward and looked down at him. His eyes refocus on your face. You grin. “I’ve sent a letter, I’ll be training in my room. If you need me, just call for me. I’ll check up on you and adjust the towel every once in a while.” Pausing, you remembered that the both of you had yet to eat. “Oops, I forgot about breakfast. Hold on, let me see what I can do.” 

  “I’m not hungry.” So insistent on ruining his health. “Nonsense, your body is fighting for its life, it needs food and that’s final.” Sticking your tongue out at him, you walk to the kitchen. Hands on each side of your waist, you looked at the food supply. “Wonderful, I have no idea what to make that wouldn’t make him sicker.” For the briefest of brief moments, you think about just knocking Muichirou out.

  No, you don’t trust yourself enough to not accidentally somehow kill him by hitting the wrong spot. And if you did somehow manage to not kill or induce a coma, you knew he would immediately cut your head off. You liked where your head is and would like it to remain that way. If only he listened to you! None of this would have happened and you wouldn’t have to figure out a way to not give your master food poisoning while he was sick. “Porridge. Sick people can consume porridge right? That’s just watery rice and some other stuff right?” You bit your bottom lip, considering the risks of carrying out a freestyle recipe. 

  You were sure an eternity had passed when you finally entered Muichirou’s room with a steaming bowl of porridge and a glass of water. The glass of water was probably unnecessary but he didn’t need to know that. Muichirou turned his head and looked at you as you carefully set the tray containing his breakfast on the floor. “I thought you left the estate.” You definitely took a while to prepare his breakfast then.

  “I considered it for a while but that would be too cruel.” You scooped a small portion of the porridge and blew on it lightly. “Say ‘ahh’.” Muichirou opened up his mouth and swallowed. You were fist pumping in your mind, he did not resist!  Repeating your actions, you smiled at him. He swallowed the food again but decided to object to your help again, “I can feed myself.” Ignoring his protest, you continued feeding him. “Perhaps, but you were also the one who insisted on training under the rain.” Muichirou looked away.

  Once you were done feeding him, you grinned, proud that he didn’t get poisoned and willingly accepted your help. Drenching and twisting his towel, you folded it neatly and placed it on his forehead like before. Picking up the tray, you smiled at him and got up. “Alright so like I said before, just let me know if you need anything, otherwise I’ll check up on you every once in a while.” Inhaling a deep breath, you cheered yourself on. Taking care of sick patients scares you. It always feels as if their future depended on your every move and decision. Sliding his door open, you left and slid it shut.

  Now alone in his room, Muichirou turned to look at the closed door. He really shouldn’t remain idle and get up and start training. He really shouldn’t let this fever of his deter him from his duty. He really shouldn’t enjoy you caring for him as much as he does. And yet he remained as he was. Muichirou tried reasoning with himself. He couldn’t quite remember when he started feeling unwell, perhaps he had been pushing himself for more than a week and yesterday was his last straw. Thinking back to when you had asked if he was sick, he remembered feeling a little shock. Used to ignoring his symptoms, he had forgotten that he was sick. How did you know though? He was sure after numerous times of pushing himself to his limit even when sick, his body had started to give up in showing signs of sickness.

  Perhaps the Butterfly Hashira would have been able to tell since she was an expert in the field of medicine and doubled as a doctor. But you clearly had trouble caring for the sick so how was it that you were able to notice? He couldn’t recall much but he was sure that you were already aware of his illness when it started and chose to not comment on it. He recalled feeling your questioning stares and observing looks, your concern written clearly in your expressions. Your absence left his room so silent, allowing him to lose himself in drifting from thought to thought.

  His door slid open. Muichirou turned to look at and saw you standing there, holding a letter. “Helloo, how are you feeling? I just received Kochou-sama’s response, she said that it might just be a bad cold and resting for the rest of the day and drinking warm water would help! Look, she even wrote a short and quick recipe since I said I sucked at cooking for stubborn patients!” You grin at him. Muichirou stared at you silently, not sure why you were so cheery all the time. “She said that I did good in caring for you and drew a smiley-face!” Pointing at the corner of the letter, you waited for a reaction from him. Receiving none, you whined exaggeratedly, “Not that I agree, but I can see why people call me a stubborn idiot who enjoys torture. Your silent treatments are killing me. One day, I’ll tell Oyakata-sama that you keep bullying me and ask to be Kanroji-san’s Tsukugo.” You stuck your tongue out and blew a raspberry at him.

  “Who called you a stubborn idiot?” That was not the response you were expecting. Tilting your head to the side, you looked up as you tried to recall the mean comments you constantly overheard. “I’m not sure. It’s mostly just overheard gossip but there’s always this weird girl with like, blue pigtails and red eyes that keeps giving me dirty looks. I think she’s just jealous because she’s always saying how if she was my rank she would apply to be your Tsukugo and kick me out.” Snorting at the ridiculousness of it all, you laughed. “You would like that wouldn’t you? I think she has a crush on you and would totally do whatever you wanted and not laugh at you.”

  “No. She sounds like someone who wouldn’t work hard. You’re annoying but you’re hardworking.” Ignoring the insult, you focused on his compliment. His first ever compliment to you. “Aww, I didn’t know you could be so sweet. You should get sick more often and maybe you would be more charming!” Muichirou looked at you plainly, unimpressed. “I’m a Hashira. My job is to kill demons and train you, not be charming.” Waving your hand, you rolled your eyes and smiled. “I know, I know. I was just kidding. Don’t worry, I respect your determination. It’s honestly impressive.” Not responding, Muichirou turned away.

  Assuming that meant that your one-sided conservation was over, you got ready to leave his room again. Hearing you getting up, Muichirou turned back and looked at you. “Wait. Don’t go yet.” You turned back and looked at him confused. He wasn’t sure what to say, he didn’t mean to call for you. “... You haven't changed my towel yet.” An unimpressed look crossed your face as you wet his towel and placed it on his forehead.

  Relishing the way your cool palm would brush his fringe away and place the cool, folded towel on his forehead, Muichirou blurted again, “Thank you, I like the way you care for me.” Your hand froze and you stared at him. Pinching his cheeks, you looked at him seriously. “Who is this and what have you done to my master?” Pushing your hands away, Muichirou glared at you. “Stop it, I didn’t mean to say that.” You raised your eyebrows but decided not to say anything else.

  The moment you closed the door, Muichirou allowed himself to cringe at his earlier behaviour. It wasn’t like him to be so… sentimental. This illness and your concern was really getting to him. And yet despite everything he told himself, he couldn’t wait for you to come back to check up on him again. 

Bonus: A few weeks after his recovery, Muichirou was walking back to the Mist Estate when he heard someone calling his name. It was a stranger. She waved her hands wildly and ran up to him. “Oh my gosh! Are you Tokito Muichirou, the Mist Hashira? I’m Yua and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” The girl’s blue pigtails bounced and her red eyes shone as she reached excitedly to grasp Muichirou’s hands. With a look of disgust, Muichirou took a stride back and extracted his sword, pointing it at Yua. “Don’t touch me, you low rank. Just by looking at you, I can tell that you don’t even deserve to gossip about others.” He paused. “Much less ones who deserve the titles they earned with their own hard work.” Not willing to spend anymore time with Yua, Muichirou turned away and walked off. Gossiping about others? How did he know that that girl, who’s name he has already forgotten, had gossiped about his Tsukugo? He heard a faint voice in his head and a blurry image appeared in his mind – You were gently dabbing his face with a cool cloth as your hand caressed his face. You were quietly whispering to yourself, “Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to be your Tsukugo. Maybe others are right and I’m just wasting your time. But looking at how angelic you look, how can I bear to leave you?” He wasn’t quite sure if that was a fever dream or how he even remembered but he felt his cheeks heating up.

a/n: sobbing, i tried my best but it wasnt as cute as i wanted it to be!! i tried my best to not make mui ooc but at the same time making the scenes cute but i think i just spent too much time on their banter and unnecessary stuff and not enough on you caring for a sick muichirou :'( + i think many stuff are probably incorrect and i want to yeet myself now im so sorry oml

#kny #demonslayer #kny fanfic #kny x reader #muichiro x reader #muichiro x y/n #demon slayer #fluff #kny muichiro #one shot #oneshot

[undercoverpan]

Ghost Spider 4

Through blood and tears, he may atone.

Jake was a strong man. He protected his family, he defended his people, he's fought in the worst war humanitys ever had. He has a purpose, and he served it exactly as he's supposed to.

Still, seeing a dead boy could send the strongest of men running scared.

He can see Spider sitting up in the tree. His legs are dangling over the branch, and he's peering at Jake over the ledge. He looks exactly like the last time he saw him, but his face....his expression carried this sense of disappointment that only a dead man could. Jake felt his entire body shiver.

"Jake." He said simply, voice echoing over the wind as it picked up. Grey clouds hung over his head, a sure sign of a storm rolling in.

"Spider, I..." he hesitated. What could he say? What words could soothe the gaping failure, physical evidence of his negligence in a 6 ft tall body? He couldn't tell if his rage came from grief or something else. From his expression, he figured he was more on the 'blind rage' part of the 'grieving his own death' cycle.

"I'm sorry." The words come easy, they always do. Meaningless, coming from him. He has to ask himself what he's apologising for: leaving him behind or telling the kids he'd be alright? It's meager, it's not enough, but it's all he can give at this point. What does a father say to an outcast? A dead man? What could he say that could soothe the phantom pains other than I'm sorry?

The clouds are getting darker by the second.

"I know." He says, softly, and there's this terrible resignation in his voice. He accepts, not because he forgives, but he's too tired to argue back. Just a second ago he seemed angry, so angry. But right now, the boy just looks tired. It reminds him of many years ago, when he found him sleeping on the ground outside their hut, back in the forest. He carried him back to his room while he slept soundly. He looked peaceful, so small in his arms. 

He hoped that was what his death was like. He hoped someone held him while he went. He hoped someone was gentle with him. He hoped he was asleep during it, that it came and went like an unpleasant dream.

"Is there anything I could…do?" Is there anything I could've done? Was there any way for you to come back alive? Is there anything I could do to fix this? Many words go unsaid because they are both too much and too little.

Spider contemplated, head turned towards a stormy grey sky. "No." Distantly, lightning strikes.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, daring enough to take a step forward. Spider's eyes drift downwards, this look of pure apathy on his face. It wasn't natural, apathy didn't come easy to anything Na'vi or Pandoran. It didn't come easy to Spider. The boy in question hesitates, before shaking his head. It swivels back and forth, like his neck might be broken. He curls in on himself, wrapping his hands around himself, trying to keep himself stable. His entire form seemed to shudder in and out of existence.

"No!" He shrieks, and lightning strikes closer. The roar of thunder sounds far away. He sobs, and wretches, and shrieks, and the sky screams with him.

He walks over, now standing right at the base of the tree. Trees in Awa'atlu are different from home, smaller with thinner leaves. He doesn't know if the spindly branches could handle Spider's weight, but he supposed there's no need to worry about that now. Or ever.

He reached out his hand towards the boy, just managing to brush against his bare skin. It's warm and real beneath his fingertips, but the touch sends electricity through him. He pulls away, likes he's been burned, even as Spider reaches out to him. He recognizes what Jake did, considers it for a second, before curling back in on himself. Heavy droplets of water began raining down on them, the tide building itself high and smashing down onto the shore.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" He stammers, more like wails. Jake's at a loss. "No, no, it wasn't your fault, I'm fine! See–, see, I'm fine!" He shows his hands to him, like that'd help.

"I don't know what's wrong!" He cries, "I keep hurting people!" Jake doesn't know what that means, but at the same time, he does. He knows what reaching out and burning people with your fingertips feels like, he knows what grasping at straws feels like, and now he knows what trying to touch death feels like. It feels like lightning.

"You didn't hurt me." He insists. "You didn't, Spider, you didn't do anything wrong." 

He reaches out again, both hands this time. The boy shrinks away from himself, trying to make himself even smaller. He ignores this in favour of placing his hands near the boy's hips and lifting him out of the tree. Already, lightning shoots through his body; every nerve starts to burn. He pulls him closer to him, hands supporting his back as he lay his head in the crook of his neck. He holds him like a father, like he held Kiri, Neteyam, Lo'ak and Tuk. He ignores the fire spreading through his body and imagines it was warmth.

"I'm sorry, Spider, I'm so sorry." He whispers against his skin, like a worthless prayer to a God that no one is sure even exists. Because if humanity's father was real, and he did love them, then why is Spider like this? Why won't he hold them like Eywa did? Why won't Eywa hold Spider? Does he burn her too? 

He will hold Spider. He can ignore the burn.

He sinks to the ground, adjusting Spider so he's still comfortable. As the wind and sea rage on, almost crying out for the small boy in unison, he barely registered the cold that came with the storm. The crack and boom of lightning and thunder sounded close, like it was going on right next to him, like it could strike him. He thinks that if it would strike him, it would hurt. He hopes it will.

Jake has never been religious. You sorta give up on faith when you wake up to death and disease on your doorstep every day. He didn't get the dietary restrictions aspect of it, or the rules, but there was one part of religion and worship he understood; atonement. Paying for your crimes, and paying with blood and tears. Dollars and gold meant nothing to their apparent father, suffering did. It was easier to suffer than to try and be better. In his case, it was too late to be better.

Black clouds lightened into grey. Rain stopped feeling like tiny sharps of ice hailing down on him.

"....Thank you." Spider says, voice concealed by wind and thunder. "You're welcome."

And just like that, Spider disappears. Not like seafoam, like how his son had described it.  No, he disappeared like sand, crumbling in the wind, like he'd never been real nor there in the first place.

____

It is when Neytiri lays eyes on him that he realises something. She rushes over, frantic, and before he knows it, he's in front of Ronal. The 2 are inspecting his body, asking questions, worried. He looks down at his hands. He recognizes the marks, remembers them from the time Tommy was alive. His brother told him about them as a cool little fact, nothing important. 

They were called Lichtenstein scars. He thinks he deserves them.

____

Sorry for the bible refs, i will be making a seperate fic so the excitement is kinda leaking through =/. Its only based on Christianity because i had to study the bible for like 6 or 8 years of my life and I'll be damned if i dont put it to use

Also, paying for your crimes by suffering or atoning for them by actually doing better?? Which one we feelin fellas

#spider socorro #avatar twow #miles spider socorro #avatar spider #jake sully #miles socorro #nocorro

[elusivemellifluence]

I saw someone recommend Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution by R.F. Kuang as an example of a fantasy story with no romance in it, and tilted my head curiously, thinking about what radically different things a story can mean to different readers. Because when I read it, I saw a significant subplot devoted to deliciously subtle, tragically unrealised queer love story between Robin and Ramy.

It lived in unanswered questions and charged silences*. It was hard to look at, hard to understand, in a world with such rigid expectations and strict social rules. It was a forbidden love on multiple levels, between two boys who were meant to devote their hearts and minds to serving the British empire above all personal concerns, between two boys who were meant to love women if anyone at all. In a story all about the magic of words, it was unspoken, unspeakable, but still not unacknowledged. They knew, or almost knew, and were getting gradually, infinitesimally closer to someday putting words to it, if only between themselves, until Ramy died and all that possibility died with him.**

It's about being closeted. It's about meeting the first other person you've ever known who's like you. It's about inching towards something you have no roadmap for. It's about the long history of tragic homoerotic vibes between British academics. It's about the love that dare not speak its name. It's about yet another thing the Translation Institute took from Robin, that's simultaneously yet another thing the Translation Institute gave him.

It's about another thing Letty's privilege blinded her to. A white woman wanting a brown man, and killing him for rejecting her***, never seeing the reason in the same way that she never saw the racism her friends were subjected to on a daily basis. A love triangle, mirroring the one between Griffin, Sterling and Evie, though Letty didn't know it was a triangle and couldn't even imagine that Ramy might care for Robin instead or that Robin might have his own desires beyond comforting her in her heartbreak. Robin asked Ramy why he didn't dance with her, and he said Don't you know why?*. Later that night Letty wept drunkenly into Robin's shoulder, asking Why doesn't he see me?, and he knew better than to tell her the truth****.

*p. 244:

"She wants you," Robin said. ... "Very badly. So why—" "Don't you know why?" Their eyes met. Robin felt a prickle at the back of his neck. The space between them felt very charged, like the moment between lightning and thunder, and Robin had no idea what was going on or what would happen next, only that it all felt very strange and terrifying, like teetering over the edge of a windy, roaring cliff.

**p. 410

One day Robin would ask himself how his shock had turned so easily to rage; why his first reaction was not disbelief at this betrayal but black, consuming hatred. And the answer would elude and disturb him, for it tiptoed around a complicated tangle of love and jealousy that ensnared them all, for which they had no name or explanation, a truth they'd only been starting to wake up to and now, after this, would never acknowledge.

***p. 503

"I think she wanted him dead," he continued hoarsely. "You could see it on her face – she wasn't scared, she knew what she was doing, she could have aimed at any one of us, and she knew it was Ramy she wanted." "Robin ..." "She loved him, you know," he said. The words came out of him like a torrent now; the floodgates were broken, and the waters could not be stopped. No matter how devastating, how tragic, he had to say it out loud, had to burden someone else with this awful, awful suspicion. "She told me, the night of the commemoration ball – she spent nearly an hour weeping into my shoulder because she wanted to dance with him, and he wouldn't even look at her. He never looked at her, he didn't ..." He had to stop, his tears threatened to choke him.

****p. 249

"I wish he would see me," she kept repeating. "Why won't he see me?" And though Robin could think of any number of reasons – because Ramy was a brown man in England and Letty the daughter of an admiral; because Ramy did not want to be shot in the street; or because Ramy simply did not love her like she loved him, and she'd badly mistaken his general kindness and ostentatious verve for special attention, because Letty was the kind of girl who was used to, and had come to always expect, special attention – he knew better than to tell her the truth. ... He had the oddest feeling of disappearing as he spoke, of fading into the background of a painting depicting a story which must have been as old as history.

(Despite how long this ended up getting, footnotes and all, I'm not trying to argue that my interpretation is right and the 'no romance' interpretation is wrong - I love the ambiguity, and think it's genuinely fascinating how this reading jumped out so clearly to me, a bisexual who spent a significant amount of my late teens pining over my best friend while coming to terms with my sexuality, while another reader with a different perspective saw something else entirely.)

#babel #babel spoilers

[serickswrites]

Take a Bullet

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, rescue, gun, gun fire, gunshot, blood, bloody nose, mcd, hurt/no comfort, survivor's guilt

Caretaker stared at the bloody bullet in their hand. Stared at it trying to make sense of it all. Stared at it hoping against hope that it could rewind time to before it all went wrong.

And it all went wrong.

Caretaker had spent days with the team planning their route into and out of Whumper's compound. The plan was for Teammate One and Teammate Two to provide a big distraction while Caretaker snuck into the cell that Whumper had been keeping Whumpee in. Teammate Three and Teammate Four would ensure that the getaway car and exit weren't blocked when Caretaker made the extraction.

Everything went according to plan. The fiery distraction drew all of Whumper's men away from the compound. Caretaker made their way swiftly and quickly to Whumpee's cell.

"Whumpee," they called urgently as they opened the gate. Whumpee was slumped over, bound at the chest, wrist, and ankle to a chair in the center of the room. The chair sat above a drain and the sounds of dripping water echoed throughout the cell. "Whumpee?" Caretaker said uncertainly.

Whumpee slowly, painfully, lifted their head to look at Caretaker. Blood dripped from their nose and their face was swollen. "Caretaker," Whumpee said sounding relieved. "I am glad to see you."

Caretaker began to saw through the thick coils of rope. "I'll get you out of here in no time. I am sorry it took us so long."

Whumpee gave a wan smile. "Don't worry, Caretaker, you're here. I knew you would come for me."

Caretaker tucked the knife in the pocket of their kevlar vest. "I forgot to grab yours from the car," Caretaker frowned. They had told themself over and over to not forget Whumpee's vest. They started to unstrap their own vest.

Whumpee put a hand on Caretaker's, stopping Caretaker from unstrapping. "It's ok. You said that Teammate One and Two are distracting Whumper and their goons? I'll be fine to get to the car. Don't worry, Caretaker."

Caretaker nodded, trying to shake off the gnawing sensation of fear in their stomach. Surely it would be ok. Surely they would make through to the vehicle without any issue. "Follow me."

Caretaker was wrong.

They had made it more than halfway to the car when Whumper rounded the corner, gun in hand. "And this is where I stop you."

"Run!" Whumpee shouted, pushing Caretaker forward. "Don't look back and don't stop, no matter what!"

Caretaker ran forward, not daring to glance back to see if Whumper pursued them. Whumper had to be chasing them. But they were close, so close to safety and reinforcements. They could hear their boots thudding on the ground, the light patter of Whumpee's bear feet, and the thundering steps of Whumper.

"Not much further," they panted to Whumpee.

"That's good. I don't think I'm in enough shape to run for much longer."

Caretaker decided it was worth the risk to see how Whumpee was doing. They glanced back. Whumpee was pale, but they were keeping pace. "You're doing fine. You're in great shape. Not much further." They turned forward again and pressed on.

"You say that like I haven't been tied up for days," Whumpee said breathlessly. "When we get home, I don't want to exercise for days. No missions. Nothing. Just peace and quiet."

Caretaker smiled. Whumper's steps grew quieter. "I can make that happen," Caretaker said as they turned to smile at Whumpee. Their mouth went dry as they saw Whumper sight down their arm, weapon aimed at them. "Get down!"

The first bullet took Whumpee in the right shoulder, spinning them around to face Whumper. A scream ripped from Whumpee's throat as they turned. The second bullet exploded out of Whumpee's back and hit Caretaker in the stomach, the force of the bullet hitting their vest knocking them over and stealing their breath.

"Whumpee," they croaked as they tried to get a good breath. "Whumpee."

Whumpee was quiet. Caretaker couldn't hear Whumper advancing on them. They could hear the shouts of their teammates nearby. But they couldn't hear Whumpee.

Painfully, Caretaker rolled on their side so they could sit up. "Say something, Whumpee." They heard the tinkling of the crumpled bullet falling from their vest. They would have one helluva bruise later. But the vest had done its job.

Caretaker's stomach dropped as they finally sat up and saw Whumpee. Whumpee lay sprawled on their back in an ever growing pool of blood. "Whumpee? Say something. Anything," Caretaker begged as they crawled over. "Please, Whumpee."

But Whumpee didn't reply. They lay there, deathly still, in the pool of their blood. "Whumpee? Whumpee, I'm here. Say some--OH GOD NO!"

Whumpee's eyes were half open, blood trickling from the corner of their partially open lips, and their chest was still. The bullet had passed directly through their heart, killing them instantly.

"Whumpee, no. Please, God. Please. No," Caretaker sobbed as they knelt in the rapidly cooling pool of blood. "Come on, Whumpee, come on," Caretaker pulled Whumpee into their lap. Whumpee's limbs flopped as Caretaker moved them. They lay limp and pliable in Caretaker's lap as Caretaker sobbed over them.

"This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen. Please. Please," Caretaker sobbed as they rocked Whumpee's lifeless body in their arms. "The whole team is here. I'm here. We saved you. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Caretaker wasn't sure how long they had sat with Whumpee in their arms. They weren't sure how long they were there before the team found them. They weren't even sure how the team managed to extract Whumpee's body from their arms. All they knew is that eventually they were back at headquarters with a blanket on their shoulders and a bullet in their had. The bullet. The one that had pierced Whumpee's heart and their vest had stopped. It should have been them. Not Whumpee. It should have been them to take the bullet.

"I'm sorry," Caretaker whispered to the empty room, tears filling their eyes once more. "I'm so sorry, Whumpee. It should have been me. I'm sorry."

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #rescue #tw gun #tw gun fire #tw gunshot #tw gunshot wound #tw blood #tw bloody nose #tw mcd #tw survivor's guilt #hurt/no comfort #whumpcember #whumpcember 2023 #day 23 #day 24 #prompt: nose bleed #tw bullet #queue

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part Eleven: Written Scene #6.5: Sparta

Look, I'm not sure if I should classify this as a written scene or not, so I'm just gonna call it both lore and a scene, but there is a fair bit of proper writing in here, it's just split up between a bunch of hand-wavey bits lmao

Pylos and getting the poison from Frank’s ‘cousins’ goes the same, they get back to the Argo II, chat about Piper’s visions and wtf the deal is with the chained god’s heartbeat in Sparta, Percy makes his comment about ‘send Leo, he’s immune to fire. Shit, I’ll go with some fuckin’ water balloons, Ares and I have tangled before, I’m more than happy to pummel him again,’ Annabeth reigns him in since Piper’s vision showed the two of them, they table the discussion for the moment and decide to just get going. The sea serpent is eyeing them, they decide to fly instead of sail. Off they go to Sparta!

They arrived in Sparta. Piper shared her dream about the giant waiting for them and shit, and Percy crossed his arms. His face darkened, lips twisting into a snarl, and all the pipes in the ship burst. Piper jumped. Somewhere else in the ship, she heard Leo yelp. 

“Carajo mierda! ¿Qué carajo, Percy!” Leo cursed loudly in Spanish as water and various other liquids started to leak through the walls. 

Percy didn’t react. 

“That’s it,” he said darkly, his voice lower than Piper had ever heard it. It rumbled from deep in his chest and she swore she could feel it in her bones. “I’m coming with you.”

Piper tried not to let on just how terrified she was. Percy had always been scary, even without trying to be. But ever since he and Annabeth had returned from Tartarus, it was like Percy was barely able to reign himself in anymore and Annabeth had taken to just watching him with a knowing glint in her eye whereas before she would have stopped him before he went too far. Percy’s mere presence set Piper on edge, her fight-or-flight instinct rearing its head the moment he entered a room. 

Piper knew that he would never hurt her or any of their friends on purpose, but after what Leo had told her about what happened with Nike, well. She just hoped they didn’t ever get caught in the crossfire. 

Right then, Piper was barely resisting the urge to flee as Percy glared at her and Annabeth, daring them to tell him no. Piper tried not to let her legs shake. Annabeth just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms right back. 

“Absolutely not, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth said sternly and raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. “Piper and I are more than capable of taking care of ourselves, and as much as I don’t want to leave your side either, Percy, we have to remember what the Giants said. They need the blood of a man and a woman to wake Gaea. If there really is a Giant waiting for us down there, we can’t send one of each; we’d just be giving them exactly what they want.” 

Percy growled low in his throat and Piper jumped when thunder cracked though the sky. 

“I don’t like this any more than you do, Percy, but the thunderstorm and exploding pipes are unnecessary. Honestly, if you don’t stop blowing up the plumbing, I think Leo might strangle you.” Annabeth said with a light laugh as she stepped forward to place her palms flat against his chest. 

Piper watched with wide eyes as Annabeth met Percy furious gaze with an indulgent smile, completely at ease even as the ship rocked from the force of the winds summoned alongside Percy’s storm by his anger. 

Annabeth bounced up on her tiptoes to give Percy a quick kiss. Percy let out a resigned sigh as his face melted into a soft grin. He slumped at the fight visibly drained from him and shook his head. 

“One of these days I’ll remember how futile it is to try and argue with you,” he said with a chuckle, and every trace of his frightening display of anger and power washed away by a kiss from his girlfriend. He sighed again. “I really, really don’t like this,” he said pointedly, “But I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself and I have no right to stop you.” He leaned down and kissed Annabeth languidly, one hand coming up to cup her jaw and the other tangling in her hair. “I guess I should go apologize to Leo and help clean up the mess I made,” he said when they finally parted for air. “Promise me you’ll be safe, Wise Girl.” 

Annabeth smiled. “Of course I will, Seaweed Brain. You’re still not getting rid of me that easily.” She gave him one more quick kiss before waving him off as they both laughed. She watched her boyfriend disappear around the corner with a tender look on her face. 

Then, she sighed and turned to Piper, her face settling into a determined mask. “Come on,” she said. “We’d better get going before he decides he’s coming anyway, my reasoning be damned.” 

Annabeth and Piper head off to do their thing. Very little changes here. Their conversation on the hill goes a little differently since Annabeth isn’t afraid of Percy and the Akhlys thing (actually she thought it was pretty hot, Percy offering to kill a goddess for her). Annabeth had told Piper some of the stuff that happened Down There, but the ‘ranked list of scary things that happened’ is more Piper’s thing than Annabeth’s. Annabeth was scared, of course, never of Percy, though, but rather of y’know, the possibility of dying and not making it back to their friends and losing Percy and stuff like that. When she talked about scary things Percy had done, it wasn’t with fear, it was always with admiration and love and a lot of ‘gods, I love him’s thrown in. Piper was the one to label his actions scary. Annabeth mooned over them. 

So when Piper is like “You’re thinking about Percy,” and they have their little feelings talk, Annabeth doesn’t talk about how he scared her standing there at the edge of Chaos threatening a goddess, but instead she talks about how incredible it was to watch him reduce a goddess to begging for mercy, how much she loved him for being willing to do whatever it took for them to make it out of there, how thrilling the knowledge was that he’d have killed Akhlys if she’d asked him to, how exhilarating it felt to have that kind of power and control over a situation. 

Piper is trying very hard not to freak out. Because seriously. What the fuck, Annabeth. But she manages to keep her cool (at least outwardly) and then there’s the surge of fear and the topic shifts and Annabeth mentions how terrifying it was to be blinded and separated from Percy by the arai, the bone-deep fear she’d felt when Bob healed her and she saw Percy on the ground, covered in blood and barely hanging on as he struggled to breathe, learning that he was dying of gorgon’s blood and there was nothing Bob could do to help him. Piper comforts her and then they notice the flame geysers. 

They go to check those out, Annabeth is frustrated she can’t find a pattern, Piper figures out they’re not logical, they’re emotional, and she jumps down the hole. Annabeth follows a moment later after she anchored a rope and Piper cut off the dragon head spouting the flames. They realize it’s a temple of fear, not just of Ares, and it’s fucking with their emotions. The Giant appears to taunt them, and they take off running. 

Annabeth is spiraling, she is definitely having a Very Not Good Time. Piper is doing her best to snap Annabeth out of it, but Mimas is Not helping and it's just a rough time all around. Mimas keeps taunting them, Piper keeps quipping right back. She talks about her godly brothers, Deimos and Phobos, and then Mimas makes his mistake. 

He insults Damasen. 

Annabeth attacks him in a fury and does some serious damage in her rage. 

Things go south for them again. Piper coaches Annabeth to stop trying to plan and just feel things, listen to her gut. Annabeth admits that she doesn’t think she can do that. 

Piper tells her to focus on getting revenge for Bob and Damasen. 

Annabeth is quiet for a moment, and then she says, “I’m good now,” and commits terrible acts of violence against Mimas <3 

Piper makes her sacrifice to the makhai, only since she doesn’t have the cornucopia, she instead slices her forearm and lets her blood drip onto the statue. Then she frees the makhai, they make their deal with her, and Mimas dies. 

Piper and Annabeth haul ass back to the Argo II and then they continue on their way. 

A few days later, after heading back out to sea and deciding to sail instead of fly while Jason was down for the count, they got caught in a massive storm. 

#dndv #demons and demigods verse #dndv scenes #dndv lore #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #piper mclean #leo gets a cameo! #i think that's everything for this part but please let me know if you want me to tag anything else

[sodobabe]

Stuck in your head (g!n reader)

Summary: A bad depressive episode makes you realize how much Swiss truly loves you.

Warnings: Angst, depression, self-doubt, Swiss loving you through pain

A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you all are doing well. As you can tell, depression hit me so I figured I'd write a super sweet fic of Swiss, the ghouls, and Copia helping the reader through a tough moment. This fic mainly focuses on Swiss but Copia makes an appearance too!



The sky was covered by pitch black clouds full of aggressive rain. I hated days like this as it always made my anxiety worse. I couldn't do any of my outside duties because of the impending storm. All I could do was sit with my thoughts.

Thunder clapped in the near distance and it startled me. The fear ran through my veins. I knew it wouldn't be long before Swiss found me. He can smell my fear from miles away.

I crawled deeper under my blankets and tried to take my mind off of the storm that was brewing outside.

As my mind started to wonder off, it was brought back to reality by the sound of heavy footsteps quickly approaching. An ease washed over me as the door slowly opened.

"My love?" Swiss questioned if I was in the room.

The thunder crashed again, this time closer, causing me to jump under the covers.

"Ah, you are in here. It's okay darling. There's no need to be afraid. It is only a little thunder. It can't hurt you," he gently said as he approached my bed.

The blankets were pulled off of me, allowing the cold air to seep into my bare skin. I opened my eyes to meet his. They were welcoming. I scooted over, closer to the wall to allow him room to join me if he pleased. He gently joined me in bed and pulled me closer to him. His scent was enough to ease my worries, most of the time. Tonight, was different.

"Love, what has you so worked up? I know you don't like storms but your anxiety tonight is not just driven by the dangers of nature," Swiss questioned as he ran his hand up and down my back.

"I'm sorry," was all I could squeak out.

Swiss adjusted his position in the bed to almost force me to look up at him.

"For?" concern coated his question

"My anxiety. I thought I was just scared because of the storm but my head is full of these negative thoughts and I don't know what to do about them. I don't want to burden you with all of my thoughts because I-" my rant was cut off by and interruption from Swiss.

"Don't you dare apologize for the thoughts that go in that immaculate brain of yours. Talk to me. I will forever and always listen to you."

I tossed sat up and tried to keep my tears contained.

"I don't feel like I belong, Swiss. I feel as if everyone here hates me. I'm not good at my duties. Copia is always correcting me. I just feel like a total failure, Swiss. I don't know how much more of this I can take," I managed to say before the tears broke the barrier.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as if I were standing under a shower and letting the water run down my cheeks. Every thought I had was swarming around in my head. The idea of breathing was becoming a foreign concept as I started gasping for air. I could no longer feel my body. I had completely forgotten Swiss was even holding me at that very moment. I was spiraling. Uncontrollably. I couldn't hear much but the things I could hear came from Swiss.

"(Y/N), hey, I need you to breathe. Please breathe for me. You're going to make yourself pass out if you don't," he said as he moved my body as it slowly started to go limp from the lack of oxygen to my brain.

It all went black. Not for long. But long enough to feel like I had died and was finally at peace.

"Aether! Rain! Mountain! ANYBODY!" Swiss screamed as he held my unconscious body.

"What? What is it?" Aether said with Mountain not far behind him.

"I need help. (Y/N) has worked themselves up to the point that they're unconscious. Aether, grab a cold towel. Mountain, can you please go get Copia and start some tea. Not too hot. And can you please get the rest of the ghouls in here? I am going to need all the help I can get," Swiss instructed as he frantically clung to my body.

Aether wasted no time running to the bathroom and bringing a cold rag back. Mountain barreled down the hall toward Copia's office, calling all of the remaining ghouls as he did so.

As soon as the cold towel came into contact with the back of neck, I was jolted back to the brutal reality of what had happened. Tears began again as I felt the presence of others in the room.

"Wh- What happened?" I managed to say between sobs and gasps for air.

"(Y/N), my love, you passed out. You were out for a few minutes. You hyperventilated so hard that you passed out," Swiss calmly explained as he pulled me closer to him and started rocking.

Copia stepped forward from the group of ghouls and sat next to Swiss on the bed. He brought his gentle hand to the side of my face to wipe away the tears.

"(Y/N), we need to know what is going on so we can help," Copia softly said as his thumb grazed my cheek.

Before I could even get the air into my lungs to explain, Swiss blurted out everything I told him.

"They don't think they're good enough. They don't think anybody wants them here. They don't think they do a good job with their duties as you are always correcting them. That was as much as I remember before the panic set in," Swiss explained.

"Ah, sweet child. On the contrary. We would not all be standing here worried about you if that were the case. You are loved. You have been loved since the day you started working here. As far as your duties go, they are new duties that you are unfamiliar with. I correct you not because I think you are no good at them, but simply because I am trying to guide you to do them the best you can," Copia spoke even softer than before as he continued wiping the tears away from my eyes.

"You have a wonderful ghoul here who is head over heels in love with you. You have the rest of the ghouls and ghouletts that would do anything for you. Mountain interrupted a very important meeting to get me down here to see you," he continued.

His voice, mixed with the fact that Swiss was still rocking me eased my troubled mind. I sat up, my body still touching Swiss. I took a deep breath in and nodded.

"Thank you, Copia. I needed to hear that from you," I said, breath still shaky.

"I'm glad I could be of help. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to my meeting. Are you going to be okay?" he questioned, rightfully so.

With not much air in my lungs, I just nodded as I nuzzled back into Swiss's chest.

With my reassurance, Copia left the room, followed by the ghouletts.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Rain asked from the corner of the room.

"Can you and Dew work on drawing up a warm bath for us?" Swiss directed.

Rain nodded as he grabbed Dew's hand and lead him to the bathroom. The sound of water running was refreshing.

"Mountain, did you get the tea?"

He nodded as he brought a cup of herbal goodness over to us.

"I grew the tea myself out in the garden. I added some chamomile and lavender for soothing accents," he explained his magic behind the concoction.

Swiss gave an appreciative nod.

"Mountain, can you close the door and get some relaxing music playing, not too loud though." Swiss instructed.

"And Aether, can you come help me undress them. They trust you almost as much as they trust me," Swiss said.

Aether nodded and made his way over to my bed. I was still buried deep into Swiss's chest. He gently moved me to a position that would make it easier for them to rid me of my clothes. Aether started on my shirt. Gently caressing the hem of the oversized t-shirt and sliding my arms out of it, followed by my head. Swiss gently tugged at my sweatpants before tossing them to the floor. They left my underwear on until it was time to get into the bath.

"Ready, my love?" Swiss questioned as he went to pick me up.

I nodded as he bent down and took my weak body into his arms. He carried me into the bathroom where Rain and Dew were patiently waiting as the bath finished filling.

"Thank you. Can you all go light candles and get light snacks?" Swiss asked quietly.

They nodded and scurried off to find the best snacks and the most delightful candles.

"Alright, honey. I'm going to put you in the tub and be right behind you. Don't worry," Swiss said as he helped me out of my remaining articles of clothing. He held my hand as he guided me into the bathtub. I sat down. sighing as the warm water soothed my aching body. I watched intently as Swiss discarded his clothes. The sight of his bare beauty would never get old. I sat up slightly so that he could sit behind me.

The feeling of Swiss's warm body accompanied by the warm water nearly put me to sleep in the tub. Swiss took the soap and a cloth and gently washed my body. Starting with my arms and working his way down.

"You mean the world to me, (Y/N). I really wish you could see just how much you mean to me," he said as he ran his hands through my hair, gently massaging my scalp.

"I'm so sorry, Swiss. I never meant to put you in that situation. I just couldn't hold back my emotions. I'm so grateful for how much you love and care about me. I could not ask for a better love," I managed to say as I struggled to stay awake.

Swiss noticed I was starting to doze off.

"Looks like someone is getting tired," he said with a chuckle.

"Let's get you out of here and we can snuggle all night long."

Swiss carefully sat me up before exiting the cooling water. He grabbed a towel, dried off, and wrapped himself up in it. He then grabbed my towel and gently guided me out of the tub, drying me off in the process.

We made our way back into our shared room, the lights were off as candles were lit, the smell of a fresh cup of tea from Mountain filled the air, relaxing music played faintly from the speaker. I sat down on the bed and waited for Swiss to come join.

"My love, as much as I would love to cuddle naked, I'm afraid that may end in something you are too tired for," he chuckled again.

He went to our closet, grabbed a pair of underwear for myself, a pair for him, and an oversized sweatshirt of his for me to wear to bed. He slowly made his way back to me, slipped the underwear on to my cold body, followed by his sweatshirt. I loved wearing his clothes because they made me feel safe. They smelled like him. A familiar smell can always ease a worried mind.

He crawled into bed next to me, pulled me to him so my head and one of my hands rested on his chest. He lifted my chin ever so slightly and gave me a gentle, yet passionate kiss. Knowing how much he loved me filled me up with warmth.

"Goodnight, (Y/N). I love you oh so dearly," he said as his kissed the top of my head.

"Goodnight, Swiss. I love you too," I replied as slumber engulfed my body.

#swiss ghoul #the band ghost #cardinal copia #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul x reader

[deucebox]

: ̗̀➛ shall we dance?

riddle rosehearts x gn! reader

fluff

wc: 1.1k

a/n: a bit ooc but i’m here to feed your imaginations so allow me to give riddle some guts

it was in the middle of the night when you woke up because of the scratchy feeling in your throat. you forced yourself to go back to slumber but you couldn’t bear it. you badly needed water and it didn’t help that you were practically shivering from the sheer cold.

you rubbed your eyes gently, wishing it would rub away your sleepiness too.

you hummed in curiosity when you heard a thunder. it wasn’t loud enough to frighten you but it certainly did make you realize that it was raining pretty hard, perfectly explains the coldness you were feeling.

as you approached the kitchen, a faint classical music erupted from the lounge room. your brows furrowed, ‘who exactly would dare to even be up at this hour?’

you simply shrugged away your thoughts and carefully poured water in the glass you were tightly holding, afraid that you might accidentally drop it.

you quenched your thirst and drank until you were satisfied before putting back the jug in the refrigerator and washing the glass you used.

you were set to succumb back to your slumber. however, you couldn’t help but to be intrigued with whoever was in the lounge room. you took a peek from behind the wall and saw a figure fumbling with the record player.

you squinted to get a better look to see who it was. your eyes widened upon noticing the person stopping on their track and observed the entire room. you were sure your presence was noticed.

you’ve hoped to not be seen but—

“why are you awake?” riddle sternly asked. you jolted in surprise, not expecting to be quickly spotted but here you are, under his heavy gaze.

“i had to drink water,” you said after standing upright, there was no use in hiding anyway. riddle stared at you, searching for any hints of dishonesty but there seems to be none.

riddle nodded in understanding before going back to his business with the record player. you sighed in relief, thankful you weren’t going to receive any punishment.

you wanted to seize that opportunity to walk away but before you could do so, he called your name.

“y/n.” you turned back to face him and you were taken aback with how quick he was as he was already in front of you.

he had his hand extended out to you and you hesitantly placed yours on top of his. he quietly led you to the middle of the lounge room where there was more space and you simply followed politely, still clueless to his intentions.

he raised your left hand and placed it on his shoulder and rested the same hand used to guide you on your waist. upon realizing what he was planning, all of the sudden, you felt like your throat was about to go dry again.

“relax, you’re too tense.” your face contorted into a visible confusion. “why exactly are you— we doing… this?” you genuinely asked.

“i wouldn’t let you go off the hook that easily, y/n. at least have a dance with me,” he paused briefly. “for practice.” he added rather defensively.

you attempted to shift your attention to something else. you focused on the song playing, you couldn’t quite figure out the exact title but you were certain it was surely fitting and meant for slow dancing.

you couldn’t help the way the side of your lips lifted a bit, finding the situation funny as you two were casually wearing your pajamas while dancing passionately.

“i never got to ask but why are you still up?” you pressed, emphasizing him.

riddle thought to himself for a second, wanting to make up an excuse but he figured it wouldn’t do him any good in return if he lies anyway.

“i just wanted to unwind, that’s all. i got a bit off-track and played around with the player,” he explained.

you quickly held eye contact with the housewarden and you instinctively stared down at your feet instead, feeling a bit conscious that you might accidentally mess up.

as if he read your mind, he said “if you are afraid that you might step on me, it’s all right.” in an unusual tone— a soft and caring one.

the two of you continued to dance gracefully. riddle was heard to sigh, though you couldn’t really tell whether it was from relief or disappointment.

“is the ground more interesting than i am?” he pried and it definitely did not fail to catch you off guard.

“no!— i…” you felt his pointer finger under your chin, using it to lift your head up. “then focus on me,” he demanded, leaving no room for you to protest.

riddle gave you a knowing look before letting go of your waist, he raised his arm that was holding your hand which had caused you to mimic his movement and you carefully spun around, successfully doing a twirl.

the young man couldn’t suppress his proud smile, delighted with your elegance.

riddle snaked his arm around your waist unlike the previous one where he simply rested his hand on it.

the moment your body was slightly pressed against his, neither of you wasted any time to execute the next step.

you instinctively gripped his hand tighter and he reciprocated the action, wanting to reassure you that you are secured with him.

with his dominant leg sticking out more than the other, his upper body leaned forward which resulted in you doing the opposite and leaning back.

he put his forehead to yours. at this rate, you couldn’t tell whether the fast beating of your heart was due to the nervousness of falling from your current position or because of his flattering actions.

riddle pressed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, it was as light as a feather but it still left an electrifying shock on your body and it felt like you just became more aware of your surroundings as you could practically hear your own heartbeat along with the droplets of rain outside.

finally retreating to your normal stance like nothing happened, riddle cleared his throat. “it was an honor to have a graceful dance with a lovely person such as you, y/n. i apologize for keeping you up late.”

“no worries. i was fond of it anyway.” you sheepishly smiled at him.

“i’m pleased to hear that. if you may, go back to your room now and sleep. unless you’d like to rest somewhere else?” he joked, tilting his head a bit and feigning innocence.

“shut up.” was all you could mutter before walking away with an amused smile.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland fluff #twst #twst x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst fluff #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x yn #riddle rosehearts x yn #riddle fluff #riddle rosehearts fluff #heartslabyul #¡! ❞ belle writes

[shellyseashell]

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

(for Claudine Frollo and Marya Rasputin, if you feel like it?)

eeheehee yes i will write about my sillies <3

rainfall

Rain on the Isle was rare. Her father had always said it was because of the sinful inhabitants of the islands, and that the rain would come when the sin was cleansed. Then it would rain, and Claudine would hope, but the rain would be a flood and her father would call it a sin just the same.

So when the first few drops began to soak the deck of the Lost Revenge, Uma ordered her crew to find shelter elsewhere. Storms on the Isle were dangerous; at sea it was even worse.

Most of the crew would shelter in the Chip Shoppe. The Hooks might make a rare visit to their mother; more likely Harry would stay with Uma, Harriet would retreat to Curl Up and Dye with Ginny and Anthony, and CJ would find Freddie at the Arcade, if she took shelter at all.

Normally, Claudine would also hide in the Chip Shoppe, or maybe she and Gil would crash at his mother’s place. This time, Marya had been on the ship, and as soon as the order had been issued, she grabbed Claudine’s hand, weaving their fingers together, and dragged her off the ship and through the port.

Sometimes, Claudine wondered if Marya knew that some of the things she did — the hand holding, the hugs, the soft touches and the looks — could be seen as romantic. Every time, she quickly shoved away the thoughts, and the warm flutters she felt, and reminded herself Marya probably didn’t know what romance was.

“Where are we going?” Claudine asked. The rain was cold against her face, a stark contrast to the burning she was so used to.

“The attic,” Marya said, meaning the Witches Guild headquarters. She wasn’t quite sure Marya considered anywhere home, but she slept there just as often as she did Claudine’s cabin.

“The attic — that’s a different island, Marya!” And crossing a channel — a small channel, small enough to be crossed by a bridge, but a channel nonetheless — was dangerous. The rain was falling heavier now.

“Then we better hurry.”

She started running, and Claudine stumbled after, both giggling in a way they’d never dare in clear weather.

Thunder crashed overhead, lightning illuminating the island in front of them, and an approaching bridge. She could barely see Marya in front of her, just a vague outline she knew to follow.

She was not scared by the rain, or thunder, or the utter lack of awareness that should have set her on edge. She was with Marya, which meant she was as safe as she could be.

She tried and failed to stop running before she crashed into Marya, who had stopped on the edge of the bridge. Marya steadied her before she fell.

“What are you doing?” Claudine asked.

“Feeling the rain.”

Claudine stared at her, squinting against the rain. Her red eyes, her hair stuck to her face and neck. Her blinding smile. Marya smiled more than anyone else on the Isle.

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?”

“Yes.”

Claudine laughed one of her rare genuine laughs. She was not surprised at all. Perhaps that was what she liked about Marya most. How light and carefree she was. It was a rare thing on the Isle, and she never could quite tell how much of it was an act.

“Dance with me.” Marya stepped back from her, held out one arm, the other tucked behind her back.

“We need to get to—“

Marya didn’t let her finish, just pulled her close, a warm arm around her waist. Claudine’s breath caught, and she blamed it on the way Marya suddenly started spinning, and the rain water in her mouth; she pushed down any tingling coming from Marya’s touch.

So maybe they didn’t make it anywhere safe during that storm. And maybe Uma yelled at them later. It didn’t matter, because they’d had fun, and it was such a rare thing. Besides, Claudine would do it again in a heartbeat.

#naia answers #naia writes #claudine frollo #marya rasputin #clarya #<- their ship name #disney descendants

[ahurricaneofjacarandas]

Ooh I just read Why Pepa?! and it's rly good, would u consider a part 2?

Cook Book

Why Pepa?! (Part 1)

> requested? yes!

> pepa madrigal x fem!reader

> bruno madrigal x fem!reader (platonic)

> warnings: none

Groaning, Bruno woke up from his slumber and sat up, making the thick book drop to the ground.

“Ugh... ” Bruno shuddered as he caught a glimpse of the book. “I'm returning you today, how will I ever look at Y/N's eyes after that vision?” He facepalmed.

•

“Hola Bruno! Go sit, breakfast will be served soon!” Julieta greeted happily.

Bruno rolled his eyes at his sister's giddiness early in the morning. For sure she and that boy, Agustin, spent the night with each other again.

“Brunito.”

“Máma.” Bruno gave a nod to his mother and sat down.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” Alma started as Julieta was handing out plates with food.

“And that is?” Bruno answered after thanking Julieta for the food.

“It is about Pepa.”

The said girl choked on her arepa. Julieta, being the eldest, hurriedly gave Pepa a glass of water.

“Máma! I thought we agreed to not do this?!” Pepa thundered.

“You did, I didn't.” Alma shooed away the forming clouds.

“As I was saying,” Alma gave Pepa a glare. “Since Bruno has been enjoying his whole day at the bookshop, he can gladly have Pepa go with him and maybe get her some cooking books.”

Pepa groaned as she rolled her eyes. “I don't need to learn how to cook! We have Julieta for goodness sake!” She pointed at her sister in front of her.

“Julieta needs rest Pepa. She can't cook for us and the town every single day.” Alma retorted calmly.

Pepa scoffed and looked at Bruno. “But why me?! Why can't it be Bruno?”

“The only time I'm entrusting the food to Bruno will be the time that I am not living anymore.”

•

Jingling was all you heard as you entranced yourself with the book you were reading. You didn't even here Bruno call your name until he dropped the thick book he borrowed in front of you.

“Uh... Hey there Y/N!” Bruno greeted calmly. “Do you have- uh- cooking books by any chance?”

Blinking, you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “Oh! Of course, it's right over there! Far left, straight and then right and then left.”

“What?” You rolled your eyes at Bruno's decreasing sense of direction.

“Follow me, Bruno... and Pepa.” You raised your eyebrow but didn't dare to ask.

Walking towards the Home Economics section, you let Bruno and Pepa pick their books before escorting them to the reading area.

“You can read here and then just check out there–” You pointed to your spot earlier. “if you want to buy the book.” Pepa gave you a smile and thanked you before starting to read.

•

After you left, Bruno poked Pepa and asked, “So, why are you blushing?” He gave Pepa a smirk. Forgetting his vision.

“I'm not blushing, Brunito.” Pepa scrunched up her nose and elbowed Bruno.

Bruno yelped, attracting your attention. You saw Bruno rubbing his sides and laughed. This attracted Pepa's attention and made the girl blush.

Bruno rolled his eyes and closed his book before walking towards you and leaving Pepa in the reading area.

“I'll leave for a few moments, I just need to get money from mi máma to buy Pepa the book she's reading.”

“Sure, take your time.” You shooed Bruno away.

You smiled as you watched Bruno tried not to trip down and attract any of the townspeople's attention.

“So you like my brother?” A voice beside you asked.

You jumped and looked at Pepa, “Just as a brother, why do you ask?” You asked as you leaned again the counter.

Pepa's eyes went wide as you leaned next to her and stuttered, “Uh– just you know– uhm–”

Laughing, you shook your head and gave Pepa a kiss on the cheek. “No need to be jealous, mi vida.” Pepa couldn't help but to blush deeply.

As you were looking at each other's eyes, a thump of something huge made both of you jump.

“Bruno!” You closed your eyes after looking at the book that Bruno dropped. It was a book of your very own poems, he borrowed it to read to his rats.

“Uh... Based on you kissing my sister's cheek, do we still have to pay for the cook book?”

#encanto #encanto fic #disney #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal x reader #pepa x reader #encanto bruno #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto pepa #encanto julieta

[dumbfloweralive]

The salvation of humanity

Chapter 4: A new quest

Warning: Crisis of faith, the dog used to have a bad owner

When you woke up in the morning, the rain had stopped, so as the thunder, you felt rested.  Outside, you could see a light fog all over the gardens and fields around the house. You had a good night of sleep, one which you never had in a long time, you felt rested. The sound of rain against the window had rocked you all night long. It felt nice.

  The dog was still asleep, instead of waking him up, you decided to take a shower and cleaned yourself a bit. The water was hot on your skin, and it felt nice, thanking mentally the generator to keep everything running correctly. There was soap you had found and shampoo. It was long due, but still useable. You hated to feel dirty, especially since finding yourself covered in blood and rag of skin was quite common now. 

  After getting all clean, you braided your hair and wash your teeth before putting your clothe on, a black jean and t-shirt with a dark green jacket with a lot of pocket, very useful. You slip on your boots, put the knife on your belt and get out of the room. The dog who had woken up start following you.

  Today would be a long day. The guns needed to be cleaned too, and after it will be time to hunt. Yesterday, the storm had ruined your plan, but today was good enough for a little walk in the woods. 

  Once you reach downstairs, you open the door that lead outside, letting the dog running in the garden. You stepped out and stay on the porch watching outside.

“ I need your help” a voice near you said.

You jumped, heart dropping in your stomach before racing with adrenaline, pulling the knife out before turning where the voice came from. That when you noticed him. The same men from the other night. He was sitting on the bench looking down on the floor.

You stay silent, in defensive position. The dog had come to your side but doesn’t seem to be bother. 

“Beg your pardon?” you broke the silence.

He stood up and approach you, towering you. Crossing your hands behind your back, you kept the knife in your hand and straighten yourself, facing him proudly keeping eye contact, letting him know he was not intimidating you.  

He repeats himself.

“ I need your help”

You chuckle.

“ First, good morning to you too, second, who are you and what are you doing here?”

Sure, you were kind happy to see him and to know you didn’t go crazy that night, but he was rude and impolite.

He seemed surprised to the way you were speaking to him. He didn’t answer. 

“Fine.” you said.

You stepped back, turning away from him and walking away, calling for the dog. 

“I am Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams, ruler of the Nightmare realm. I need help to find my artefacts.”

Turning to face him, you stand there, not moving, processing what he just says. Did he just pretend to be like some sort of God?

You laugh. He had to be joking. 

Dream didn’t expect for you to react that way. 

You turn to look on the old driveway, chuckling, bitter. This was for sure a joke. He was making fun of you. You used to be a believer, trusting god and his word, learning every text, mythologies, idea. If you had met him at this time of your life, you would have been so happy. A happy little girl. But after everything you saw and experience, you couldn’t understand how someone like god could do this. You lose your faith.

You looked at him. Questions burning your lips.  How was it possible for a god to be trapped in any way.

“ Okay, let’s assume you're some sort of God, how did you end up here.”

“I was powerless, trapped by a spell cast by an amateur. My captivity has damaged this world. In a way i never saw before” he answered.

He didn’t seem to know about the apocalypse. You dare to ask.

“ How long were you trapped inside that thing?”

“113 years.”

Your body froze and you felt sick. Nothing were right in this story. Everything was so messed up. You felt so bad for him and for letting him there for weeks while he was there in this cage. Even if he was laying to you about how long he stayed trapped, he still was in this cage.

He was mocking you, pretending to be a god. Perhaps he had gone mad. 

“Could you say to this dog to leave me alone please” You heard another voice and search behind Dream. You saw a raven and the dog were trying to catch him.

You laugh.

“There is no way the raven just spoke.”

No one spoke.

“I am probably still asleep.” you said.

“Trust me, you are not.” Dream whispered to you.

“This is my raven, Matthew. He wasn’t supposed to be here." He said next. The bird came on his shoulder to find shelter from the dog.

You’ve been in this place for more or less than 3 weeks and had found sorcery books, a man trapped in a glass, you had set him free and now, he was standing here, asking for your help, being some sort of god, speaking about the dream realm and tools. He was impolite, and he didn’t even bother asking for your name. Rude.

The dog was beside him, sniffing his hand, asking to be pet. 

“Will you help me?” He said, leaning forward to you, a lock of hair falling over his face in the process. It took all the strength you had to fight the urge to replace it and run your hand through his hair.

God, he smelled divine, you thought to yourself. You kept your eyes on his leaning forward too before asking.

“Why should i help you? I don’t know you.”

“You didn’t know me, but you free me last night.” He said, staring deep in your eyes.

He was right. You did, without hesitation. You nod and step back, the dog follows your lead, standing by your side. Furthermore, you wanted to help him without knowing why, even if he was lying to you. Who know? Perhaps you were hoping this to be true, deep inside your heart. 

And anyway, you needed to leave the house to find some supplies. 

Stepping inside the house, you start walking toward the map, but notice he wasn’t following you. Sighing, you return outside.

“Are you coming or not?”

And he followed you into the house. It felt strange for Dream to be inside the house that held him captive for the last century. But your presence totally changes the aspect of the house.

“So, do you have any information about your “tools”?” You asked.

You sat near the radio and map, the dog lay his head on your laps, and you pet his head.

“I need to find my sand first. It was sold to a magic user called Johanna Constantine, we need to find her first” He said.

You had no idea who she could be, but you did know a group of survivors practising magic or, at least, use to. It’s been years since you had news of them. You didn’t know where to find them any more.

The smartest thing to do, to buy time, would be trying with the radio. 

And you did. No answer. But the radio did send a signal. It was probably still on, and you would try later. 

You try to call the group you knew the most, the one to which you belong. You would contact the person you trusted the most, your godfather. He taught you everything, especially since the beginning of the pandemic. 

He answered.

“Y/N, you okay? You’re supposed to call tomorrow.” Dream heard concern in this man voice. Who was he for you, he wondered. 

Now, he could also put a name on your face. He didn’t even ask you, obsessed by his quest. He felt a little ashamed.

“Yes, i’m fine, don’t worry. I need information about something, though.” you answered.

“Yeah, what do you want?” He asked, obviously in relief.

“Do you have any news about this survival groups we meet few years ago, the one that like magic and stuff?”

No one answered on the other side. You waited.

“No i don’t. I’ll see with the boss and came back to you later. You’ll explain to me what’s going on.”

“Count on me. Thanks, see you later” you said.

“See ya.” 

You leaned back on the chair, crossing your arm.

“We need to wait now.” you told him.

He nodded. 

“What’s the name of your dog?” Dream asked.

Sweet, he asked for the dog name’s but not yours, you thought.

“He’s not my dog, and he doesn’t have a name”

Dream looked surprise. You explain.

“ His old owner wasn’t treating him well. When we met, he was threatening me with a gun. The dog save me from his owner. We stuck together ever since. Two years. I don’t give him a name in order not to get too attached. ”

That was not true, and you knew it, deep down. You were deeply attached to this dog. Since the first day. But, it was for the best not to show it too much.

Dream knew it too. 

Will waiting, you take the time to clean your gun. In silence, from what you could see, Dream wasn’t really talkative.

After a few moment and clean weapons, he asked you something.

“What happen here? This place is as destroyed as my kingdom.”

There he was speaking about his kingdom. Did he truly believe himself to be a god?  

No need to be a genius to guess what he was referring to in the first place. 

He really didn’t know?

“ Well, seven years ago, a man fell sick with weird symptoms. Patient zero. The disease spread, being very contagious. After their death, people just woke up, but they were not human any more. We learn after that it was not about a disease the dead gave, all of us are somehow infected. When we die, we all come back as one of them. When they bite or scratch they make people really sick, and it kills them slowly, if you're not dead because they eat you first. “

You paused. 

“ That what happen. No more electricity, phone. No more everything. Do you really don’t know? You can’t have been stuck in this place for more than a century, even for seven years.” You told him.

He looked outside, obviously hurt, you didn’t believe him. You felt bad. 

Both of you stay in silent. The raven had left outside. The dog was still by your side, resting. You stayed like that for a while until the silence break through the radio.

“Y/N do you copy?” you heard your godfather say.

“I do, have you found anything interesting for me?” 

“ I have, do you have the map?”

You stood up, walking toward the map laying on the desk with the radio. Dream followed your lead, standing close behind you.

“I’m in front of it, where is it compared to your place?” Asking, pointing the place he was with your finger.

“Est. They’re 200 miles from us. It’s an old town, but no one had news from them for the last months.”

You were finding the place on the map when he spoke again.

“Y/N what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you myself tomorrow when i arrived. It will be easier.” You answered, noticing it would be easier to go to their places before since it was closer.

“ I’m leaving soon.” You continued.

On the other side of the radio, he sights.

“You better be telling me. It’s dangerous, you can’t keep moving like that.” He said.

“I’ll be ok, i am always ok”

“I know. Be careful, i’ll wait for you kid. See ya” He answered.

“Promise, see ya.”

The radio shut down. You circled the place he told about. Dream was still behind you, close. You turned to him. He was very close, towering you again, you were pressed against the table. You had to take the power back. It’s not that you didn’t like to be in control. Well, actually it was the case. You had to be in control.

“Ok we have a lead but if we travel together you need to follow some rules.”

He was listening to you, so you continued.

“ If you hurt or make any attempts on the dog, you’re dead. Do as i say, if i told you to run, you run etc… Do not put us in danger. Kill the zombie with knives. Use gun only in emergency case. Be careful, they are very fast. You have a weapon, right?”

The way he stayed silent told everything. You handed one of your knife, and he took it. 

You put your hand on his shoulder to make him move, but he jumps, so you back off.

“Sorry, but could you move please?”

He did. You fold the map, put everything you needed in a bag and throw it on your shoulder.

Both of you went outside, ready to find your godfather again. Ready to return to the only place that has been your home technically since the apocalypse. The thought of it made you happy deep inside.

You start walking in the forest, explaining where you were bringing him. After a few moments, he told you.

“You can call me Morpheus, by the way, that’s my name.”

“Yeah, i’m gonna stuck with Dream for now, i don’t really know you.”

For a second, you swear you had seen him flash a smile.

You always liked to travel alone and with the dog, but you had forgotten how good it was not to travel alone. Maybe you should stay more with your godfather and his group. It was nice  to have someone to stuck with.

Hey!! Sorry I am late for posting, didn't get to much time between university and my work. I hope you will like this chapter ! Let me know if there is any thing bad or that bother you i'll do my best to improve myself 🤞

Have a nice day !

#dream of the endless #dream x reader #dream x you #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #sandman imagine #sandman x reader #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #morpheus imagines #morpheus x yn #morpheus x you

[buttermyother]

Knocking On Your Skin | Angel!Jayce x Fem!Reader

Click for masc version

━━━━━━━

Warnings: NSFW (Oral, penetration, etc.), cursing

Summary: Your search to find a wish-granting fountain gets you stuck in a mountain cave with an angel supposed to guide your way to the top, but a different desire of yours ends up getting fulfilled.

━━━━━━━

A barrage of lighting rolled through the air again, the sound of thunder so close it was taunting you.

The sudden noise caused your footing to slip, but you didn't dare to look down, not that the clouds below you would've permitted sight of the ground. You and your guide had been climbing for nearly the whole day; it was dark when you had set out, and the moon was once again in the sky.

"Jayce!" 

You were surprised he even heard your shout above the storm, his own response barely audible. 

"What? Is something wrong?"

"Are you sure you can't just fly up, even just a little bit? We should scout for a resting area, at least!"

He turned away from you and although you couldn't hear it, you were sure he scoffed.

"It could start raining any moment, and besides, I don't plan on becoming a lightning rod anytime soon," he yelled, motioning to a burnt tree that was toppling by, no doubt struck down from higher up.

You grumbled to yourself, trying to steady yourself against the growing winds. The both of you were climbing on all fours for as much stability as possible, Jayce's wings folded back with one brought forward to shield his face, the feathers facing the weather like fluttering blades of ivory. 

The journey continued in mutual silence for some time, only the howling storm and occassional clattering of a rock or branch accompanying you. 

"There!" Jayce suddenly exclaimed, the gales so fierce now that you could barely see his pointing hand through the clouds of sediment. "I think it's a cave, but the mouth is pointed away from us so I can't be sure. That means it's pointed away from the storm too, though, so we should at least check it out!"

You would've rolled your eyes if they weren't squinted so tightly, and you stopped to look more closely at the mound of stone he had signalled towards. 

"You've already called a boulder a cave two times," you replied, not bothering to hide your frustrated tone. Even so, you started making your way to him.  "If this is another one, then I might as well push you off the side of this mountain."

His laugh blended with the rumbling of another incoming wave of thunder, though it was bitter. "If you had enough strength to do that, we wouldn't have to find a place. What're you going to do, wish for an extra set of lungs?"

You could see him more clearly now, though you weren't sure whether that was a downgrade or a blessing. His smile shined even through the rolling pebbles and dust - that infuriating, captivating smile. 

The pair of you had been travelling together for almost two weeks now, though your itinerary had been planned around only one. You had been set back by an injury when you were only a few days into your journey, as a creature had torn through your shelter, your bag, and your ankle. You had laid there for at least an hour or two with only a roll of bandages put to use before Jayce had arrived - needless to say - terrifying you.

After a few deep breaths and more than a few questions about his unusual form, you came to an agreement. He would guide you to the top, and you would make a wish for him. Then, as he had said, you never had to see him again.

You had embarked with the fountain in your mind as only a fable, but a fable you desperately needed. However, seeing Jayce cemented your belief in it, and there was nothing you wanted to do more than see even a sliver of the legendary crystal clear waters, ever-gleaming marble, and flowers of every color that was said to sit upon the flat top of the mountain.

Unfortunately, the trip leading up to it was much less harmonious than the location itself, and your companion didn't happen to make it any easier.

He constantly bickered with you, and there was more than one instance where you had to remind him it was your wishes he was relying on, as he had been cursed to live the way he did, never to leave the mountain or harvest anything from it. He had found out long ago that the statement included the fountain. 

Jayce would frown whenever you asked him why it had happened - well, to be fair, he was always frowning - not to mention that the only time he smiled was when teasing you. 

However, that didn't stop you from noticing the little things about him, the things that were so habitual to him that there was no chance he could hide them: the time he uncovered a plant from a landslide and watered it with creekwater from careful cupped hands, the small animal that you had caught him petting in the early morning when he had woken long before you. That was leaving out the more indulgent factors, the way his shoulders flexed with each movement of his wings, how their feathers gleamed in the sun, the fact that he looked near perfect from wading through a river to in the midst of a storm. 

You supposed you couldn't be too hard on his ways, he knew the path much better than you did, after all. Plus, there had been moments of kindness - concern when you skipped a meal, reminders of when to drink and when to sleep, his efforts to make sure you were comfortable as possible even when it didn't benefit him in any way. 

Gross, you thought to yourself. I'm falling for the bare minimum.

Even with the notion, you couldn't help but remember the feeling of his coarse hands brushing against your collarbone as he clasped the top button of your blouse one morning, the spark that came from it only intensified as he brought his midnight eyes to yours. 

"Your shirt," Jayce had mused, glancing at you from his position perched on a stone while you washed your hands in a river.

"My shirt," you had responded tiredly, still half-asleep. You weren't ready to put up with a snide remark so early in the morning, and braced for the start of the barrage.

Instead, he had merely slid off of his seat into the water in front of you, your astonishment stealing any words form your mouth. Without saying anything, he buttoned the top of your blouse, leaving you flustered and confused.

"Hey! Are you listening?"

You were torn from your memory, slightly disoriented while calling back, "Sorry, what is it?"

Your limbs were moving without much thinking as you followed him, the mound of rock ahead slowly growing larger.

"Turns out it's a cave after all, you can see the mouth right there!"

You paused, expecting a snarky comment to follow, but none did, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

"Good, we've finally found a mouth bigger than yours."

Jayce didn't reply, but you brushed it off, figuring the storm must have suppressed your voice.

The effects of entering the cave were almost instant, and you sighed with relief at the lack of calamity. The winds only whistled outside the entrance, and the interior was both relatively flat and smooth. Most importantly, it was dry, and you nestled your satchel between two rocks after retrieving your sleeping bag from it, debating which area was the most level. 

Your partner stretched leisurely, his wingspan reaching almost from one side of the cave to the other. The sheer volume of his wings never failed to amaze you, and you marvelled at him for a moment before tossing a blanket at his face, breaking his yawn. 

He simply stared down at the cloth in his hands before looking up at you, asking, "Are you alright?"

"Hm?" you responded, already settling onto the floor.

"It's the first storm we've had so far, and a lot rougher than I've ever seen, are you alright?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if this was a ploy of his, but as far as you knew, you had only heard this tone one other time - when he had first found you.

"I'm fine, are you?"

He coughed nervously and turned away from you, his wings peculiarly folded as their tips intercrossed between his calves. 

"Yeah, of course. I'm not the one the one causing trouble."

You were almost relieved at his jab, though his demeanor was much less confident than usual. Shrugging to nobody in particular, you chalked it up to the probability that the storm shook him. After all, he did say it was the strongest he'd experienced.

Pushing and prodding at the sleeping bag, you made yourself as comfortable as you could on the ground. Even after many nights of sleeping on the mountain, there was still a clear different between laying on dirt and stone. 

There was a bit of shuffling to your side as Jayce did the same, and you felt the gentle breeze of the blanket as he laid it down on the ground. The day he found you, he had told you that to accomodate his wings he simply slept with his chest to the floor while propping up his chin in his arms, using the feathers for warmth. 

You smiled at the thought, staring up at the dimly lit stalactites of the cave.

"Hey," Jayce whispered, "are you awake?"

Sighing, you answered, "Why wouldn't I be awake? It's barely been seconds since we've lain down."

There was a pause before you heard, "I don't know, just checking. Are you sure you're okay? We don't want those pretty hands of yours hurt."

You were suddenly thankful for the dark, hoping it adequately masked your blushing. "I'm sure, Jayce."

There was a moment of pondering before you decided to repeat a question you had asked many times before to no avail. You weren't sure why, there was just something about the atmosphere that made you think things would turn out differently.

"So why were you cursed?"

You steeled yourself for a harsh retort or a groan, but instead came only a heavy exhale.

"It has to do with the fountain. I heard the wishing capacity came from its waters, so I wanted to bring it down and share it with others."

Share? You were surprised he even had the word in his vocabulary, and you shifted on your side to look at him as he continued. 

His black eyes shone even in the dark, his head already facing towards you. "Turns out that the whole point of this mountain is supposed to be a trial, I suppose. Seems a bit traditional to me, I don't want tests that I can still read in storybooks. I only got a few steps with just a bottle of the water before getting pulled into the fountain, and when I woke up, I was like this."

He motioned to his back, wearing a demeanor of disgust, and you gave a sympathetic smile, saying, "I don't know, I like them."

His feathers rustled, and you could swear his face turned a tint redder.

"Well, I would too if the other part of the deal didn't exist. When I came to, I was still in the fountain, and I spent a while figuring out how to fly, which isn't the most convenient when you're doing it downhill. It took me ages to get to the base of the mountain, and my only reward was finding out that I can't step off of it."

The sound of light splatters of water let you know it had just begun to rain, and you pulled the front of your sleeping bag up a little more.

"Either way, it's nice to have somebody here with me. Even if that person is you." He added the last phrase furtively, and you caught a flash of nervousness on his face. "I've gotten a little tired of just talking to trees and bears. This place is big, but that only makes you feel more lonely."

Jayce's voice trembled slightly, but you could tell he was trying to hide it as he audibly swallowed. 

You sat up and sidled out of your sleeping bag, sitting cross-legged in front of him. He didn't move a muscle, his eyes the only thing that shifted with your actions.

"I'm glad you're here, too. If I didn't have anybody to save me, I would either be back at the bottom or in some animal's stomach. Even if that person is you," you mocked, lightly pushing his shoulder.

Unexpectedly, he grabbed your hand as you did so, keeping it pressed to his bare chest. 

You tried not to breathe too heavily as he propped himself up, his warm skin taut beneath your fingertips; you hoped he couldn't feel your heart beating through your palm. 

Almost every part of your brain was melting with the sensation of his hand closed firmly around your wrist, but you held his eye contact. 

"You act like you don't know that your teasing doesn't make me... aggressive." 

He said the last word softly, the diction so distinct that you could almost see the word falling from his lips.

You felt a sudden heat travel to your crotch, no doubt a bit of wetness beginning to pool between your thighs. 

Without even thinking, you asked, "Why didn't you want me to know? The curse thing, I mean."

You immediately cursed yourself for the question, feeling the moment slip away between your fingers. 

The look in his eyes suddenly became very far away, and his lips pressed together. His grip loosened, and your hand dropped with your heart.

"I think that I just wanted to be as secretive as possible. The wings get in the way of a lot of things."

The way Jayce said the line made it seem very cryptid, and you couldn't help but ask, "What things?"

"My shirt, for one."

"Unfortunately, not your pants."

His eyes widened, and you weren't sure whether it was you or him that was more surprised by what you said, your mouth becoming very dry. 

"Not my feelings for you, either," he said in a hushed tone, fully sitting up.

You could barely register the moment between what he said and the pressure on your lips, his hand cradling your chin as the other rested beside your hip, his wings crossing behind your back in a second embrace. 

Your senses were overwhelmed, from the gentle feathers brushing your neck to the slight scratching of his stubble your chin, and you felt yourself become only more slick as you deepened the kiss. You parted your lips slightly and immediately felt his tongue enter once you did so, yours coming to meet his. He left your lips wet once he tilted his head downwards, his eyelashes softly brushing your cheekbones.

Brain still going haywire, you sputtered, "How do you keep your lips so soft? It's so dry up here." 

You winced at the question as soon as the words left your mouth, but none of the tension was broken as Jayce laughed. He smiled widely, the most genuine one you had seen so far. 

"They stay that way in case I ever met someone like you."

He looked up at you as he pressed his hand to your navel, and you could only hold your breath, not daring to move. 

With a salacious grin, he slowly dragged a finger around under your waistband, the other hand undoing your zipper.

You whimpered slightly, moving to do it yourself in your urgency. 

He quickly clasped a palm to your mouth, shushing tenderly with a glint in his eye.

"I've told you what to do up until now, and that's not going to change."

You glared at him but still removed your hand, spreading your legs a bit from their crossed position. 

Jayce saw the motion and pushed them open before fully unbuttoning your pants, quickly pulling them off. He dragged a finger up the wet spot on your underwear, the only thing between your cunt and his hand. He pulled down its waistband a bit more quickly, his heavy breathing indicating his own impatience. 

His hair draped messily over his forehead, the muscles in his chest tense and his wings shuddering slightly. 

The both of you exhaled as he yanked the fabric off, your lips already glistening with secretion. The sudden exposure to cold air caused you to twitch as Jayce stared, his mouth slightly agape. 

"Look at you," he muttered, running a finger up its folds. You tilted your head back and stiffened, on the verge of begging for more contact. "Every part of you is perfect."

He laid his thumb on your clit, asking with a distinct gentleness, "Is this okay?"

You nodded furtively, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his shoulder, his body noticeably warm. 

"Come on," he teased, pulling his hand away. "I want to hear it."

"Yes," you gasped, one of his wings coming to rest on your head. "It's okay, it's so good, please, more."

You could barely get the words out as he resumed the contact midway, rubbing slowly while tugging at your collar with the other hand. Understanding immediately, you hurriedly began unbuttoning your blouse, Jayce almost mewling at the sight of your chest.

"Nothing under?"

You shook your head and he carressed your cheek approvingly, pressing a wet kiss to your collarbone. Out of the blue, he stopped and sat back, causing you to disappointly look up at the loss of touch. You watched Jayce's chest heave as he brought his hand up to his face, licking the lubrication off his thumb. 

You only felt the heat between your legs grow at the sight, Jayce still smiling throughout it all. 

"If you want more, you have to earn it," he drawled, standing up.

The bulge in his pants was evident as he sat on a nearby rock, palming himself and beckoning you towards him.

You began to stand, but he clicked his tongue, pointing downwards. 

"I like the way your ass moves on all fours, I couldn't get a good view when you were crawling in the storm today."

Making your way over to him slowly, you rested your hands on his thighs as you got on your knees, his hand still resting on his crotch.

You removed it delicately, fingers trembling as you undid his pants.

"So beautiful," he muttered, cupping your cheek while rubbing the spot behind your ear in circles with a calloused finger.

His cock sprang up immediately as you yanked down his underwear, the shaft running with thick veins, so long it nearly touched your nose from where you kneeled.

You took it tentatively in your hand and stroked hesitantly, watching his face intently. He bit his lip as he muffled a sigh, his hand moving up to grab the back of your head, his wings closing around you again.

"You bring out the devil in me," he chuckled, tightening his grip.

As he did so you brought your head forward, giving his tip a small lick. The saltiness of his precum mingled with the saliva in your mouth, which was flowing so much you were surprised you weren't drooling. 

Jayce groaned and pushed your head down a bit, smothering you at the base of his cock. You felt his feathers shake as you took it in your mouth, feeling a drop of what you guessed was precum hit your cheek. 

He moved a hand under your chin to tilt your head up, and you lazily licked a stripe of his shaft before taking his tip in your mouth and sucking lightly, feeling bolder. 

He cursed and thrust upwards, pushing deeper into your mouth. You lowered your head, trying to take him as deeply as you could, feeling your own fluids trickle down the inside of your leg. 

Jayce continued grinding into you, his thighs clenched tightly around your shoulders.

"Stop," he gasped, the sudden absence of weight on your back letting you know that his wings were folded back behind him. 

You looked up quickly, afraid that something had gone wrong, but his hand continued carressing your face.

"You're so pretty with my cock in your mouth," Jayce sighed, leaning forward. 

Suddenly, he stood up and hooked his arms under yours, whisking you up onto the same rock he had sat on. He hastily removed your pants, pulling you towards him by the hips. 

You moaned as he pressed his crotch to yours, even the slightest sensation exhilarating. 

"But you'd look prettier with it in your pussy."

Jayce lifted you up with one hand beneath your back, the other still on your hip. He leaned forward to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking delicately as his tongue circled it. You gasped as he bit very lightly before giving the other the same treatment, straightening up with a very satisfied look.  

Eyes wide, you kept your eyes on him as he ran a hand down your thigh, tracing his finger up and down your slit. You could only whimper as he smirked at you, pressing your leg down. You saw a drop of precum fall from his cock as he lowered it towards your pelvis, pushing only the tip in. You scowled and thrust your hips upward, but the hand on your leg firmly pushed you back down. 

He pressed into you agonizingly slowly, a wing sidling beneath your neck to prop up your upper body as he took hold of your waist, causing you to instinctively wrap your legs around him. You raised your hands to clench the feathers as he entered you, breathing heavily as you tried to adjust to his size. You felt yourself tighten around him as he began to move, deliciously stretched to your limit. 

"I never want to pull out," he groaned, already thrusting faster. Each slap of his hips against your thighs sent a wave of elation throughout your body, and your moans only increased as he sped up.

He made sure not to ignore your clit as he moved, each thrust matching the rhythm of his circular massaging. Jayce grunted as he slammed into you with more and more force - each vein, each glan became part of you. 

"Shit," he mumbled, barely audible over the sounds of his skin meeting yours. "You don't know how badly I've wanted this. You don't know how many nights I've spent with my cock in my hand while you're sleeping, thinking about what noises you make when I touch you, when I fuck you."

"Tough talk," you gasped, melting into euphoria with the feeling of him entering you so rapidly, "for somebody who can't fly because of a couple clouds of dust."

His eyes glinted dangerously, and the wing left its spot behind your head as he pushed you further up on the rock while still inside of you, clambering onto it himself. Jayce shoved his tongue through your lips, his breath hot and urgent. The hand on your clit left its place, and he brought it up to your mouth, gripping your chin as he slid his index and middle finger in.

You immediately began sucking and he resumed thrusting, his dark curls of hair bouncing as he did so even more vigorously than the previous position, the pleasure that was crashing into you knocking any thought of retorting from your mind.

You could feel yourself getting close, but before you could even open your mouth to mention it, Jayce huffed, "I'm going to cum. Fuck, I can't decide if I want to see it dripping out of you or down your face more."

The rumbling of his rough tone sent you over the edge, and you were barely aware of anything but Jayce's grunts and his coarse hand on your face as you finished in ecstasy, still holding onto the edge of one wing.

The sight of you doing so seemed to do the same to him, as a hot substance was suddenly flowing into you once he gave a final groan, his thrusts slowing, but still as deep as before. You felt the cum slowly drip out from inside of you, no doubt already mixed with your own. 

You closed your eyes when Jayce stopped, resting completely inside of you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him as he heaved you up, his wings folding under you as support. 

He slid out slightly from you as he laid you down and you rolled on your side, but quickly pressed back in once he was in the same position.

You gave him a questionable look, to which he only said, "I wasn't kidding about never wanting to pull out."

Once again, he donned an easygoing smile. A wing cloaked over you caused you to return the grin, and you wrapped your arms around him, basking in the synchronization of his breaths and heartbeat. He was noticeably more relaxed, and you felt a soft kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

"I'm sure you've already figured out my wish was to release the curse. Naturally, I still want to, but I'm happy it was in my life. Otherwise, I never would've met you."

You looked up at him, tracing his collarbone with a finger.

"Is that really worth all the years it was a burden?"

He took your hand, intertwining your fingers with such fragility it was like he was handling glass. 

"I forgive it. I know I haven't been the nicest to you, but I haven't felt like this for as long as I can remember, even when I was still on the ground. I would do a lot of things for you. But, most importantly, I would spill every last drop of myself for you, from my blood to what's running down your leg right now." 

Slightly embarrassed, you laughed, burying your face into the crook of his neck.  

"Who knows, maybe I'll just wish for you to like me," he said with a joking sigh. 

You raised your head to furrow your eyebrows at him, hitting him lightly on the chest. 

"Do you think I'd let an idiot like you do all that me if I didn't like them?"

His smile only widened, and you felt his cock prod a bit deeper as his wings shuddered again. 

"What did I say about teasing me?"

#arcane smut #arcane league of legends #arcane #netflix arcane #jayce smut #jayce lol #jayce x you #jayce x reader #jayce talis #jayce/reader #jayce/you #jayce talis smut #league of legends smut #league of legends x reader #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane fanfic #arcane fic

[edupunkn00b]

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 12: We Will All Be Changed

Prev - We Will Be Changed - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3073 - Rated: T - CW: arguing, redacted slur, flashback, dissociation

Speak now don't tarry on like it's Always gonna be Hold child this expectation But don't forget to love - We Will All Be Changed, Seryn ---

Still two miles out from his exit home, Logan gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, jaw muscles twitching in his effort to stay silent in the face of Kelly's rant. “And don’t you dare lecture me about responsible parenting, Logan,” Kelly hissed, twisted in her seat and glaring, finger stabbing the air next to him, punctuating each word. “I’m not the one who left a thirteen year old alone with some strange man! I never would’ve agreed to him not coming if I’d known that’s who'd be watching him!” She scoffed, one artfully polished nail scraping against his sleeve. “No wonder you were in such a rush to leave and didn’t invite me in!”

“You arrived almost an hour later than we—”

“There was traffic!”

“Yes, and Virgil was anxious we would hit even more traffic on the way up to Bellingham.” He inhaled slowly and checked his mirrors, then his speedometer, forcing more of his attention back to his driving and ignoring the cold churn in his stomach. It would be fine. The worst she would do in a moving car was yell. “Our son is perfectly well cared for. Roman is my boss' brother-in-law. You’ve even met him before.” Hiding his relief that Kelly did not seem to remember anything about Roman, Logan signaled, checked his mirrors, then his blind spot before changing lanes for the upcoming exit back to his house. “At Seattle Law, he was an assistant teacher at the child care center that Remy and Virgil attended. He's great with kids and is a really good guy.“

Kelly sucked her teeth and turned up the radio. “Can he handle Patton's behavior problems?”

It hadn't taken long for Kelly to return to this old thread. Better this than Roman? He wasn't sure. “We’ve discussed this.” Logan gritted his teeth and breathed past the phantom ache in his fingers. He flexed his hand before saying, very quietly, “Neurodivergency is not a behavioral problem.” 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked around as Logan signaled again and slowly eased onto the off ramp. “Wait. This is the wrong exit. We always take 18 to get to your place.”

“Yes. My home is equidistant between this exit and the next. Unless there is road work on 124th, when traveling South, I take this exit.”

“Well, you should take the other one.” Her eyes bored into him but kept his attention on the road and his mirrors. “We always do,” she said again, the fresh emphasis telling him who she was talking about.

“So, how is Mark?” he asked weakly. His blatant desperation to change the subject, his desperation to short circuit yet another fight was just blood in the water.

“Smooth, Logan,” she sneered, but then her tone went syrupy sweet. “Mark is great. In fact tomorrow, we’re looking at houses up in Bothell. We’re looking at the schools up there, too…”

Logan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened reflexively and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She smiled back. “We wouldn’t dream of making any changes to the parenting plan without going through the proper channels, of course,” she murmured softly, like thunder in the distance. “Won’t it be nice for Patton and his new little brother to go to the same school?”

“Patton starts ninth grade in the fall,” his brow furrowed, alarm bells screaming in his head. “And…” It took a moment for the name to surface. “Caleb is a second grader.”

“Heritage is a private school for grades K through 12,” Kelly remarked. “Patton would have good influences there.”

Logan frowned. “Heritage is a religious school,” he remarked before he could stop himself. “And they’ve been taken to court at least four times this year for viola—”

“Last I checked, Logan, there was still freedom of religion in this country,” she said airily. Again, he felt her eyes on him. Stopped at a red light, he glanced over and shuddered at her little smirk. She was baiting him and he knew it. But he couldn’t hold his tongue.

“Patton is happy where he is,” Logan said carefully.

“Patton is coddled where he is,” Kelly snapped, sickly sweet tone evaporating in a snarl. “He’s going to need to get his grades up if he has any hopes of scholarships like his brothers. He needs to start taking his education seriously.”

Logan breathed slowly and again counted to five before speaking. “Kels, that is a mischaracterization of Patton’s school experience and—”

“Don’t call me that.” She fell silent for a while before shrugging. “Besides, it isn’t completely up to you anyway. Mark will be his stepfather soon and he has a say in the matter.”

Logan did not answer, and, with more than a little relief, turned into his driveway alongside Kelly’s candy red BMW. She flung open the door and jogged up the porch steps before he could even cut the engine. Counting his breaths, Logan set the parking brake, shifted into Park, then turned the key and followed her.  

~~~

She stepped aside only long enough for Logan to unlock the door, then pushed her way through, not even waiting for him to pull the key from the lock. “Patton? Patton, honey?” she called out in her PTA mom voice. Logan’s skin crawled at the saccharine tone, her words still edged with the promise of… anger or retribution or—

“Oh, hi, Mom,” Patton’s voice echoed down the hall. Logan’s hand shook as he struggled with the key and he forced a slow breath, on old, slimy panic inching up his throat. “You’re back. Where’s—“ His voice muffled at the end, probably pulled into a hug. Logan finally retrieved the key and stepped inside. Guilt clashed with relief when he saw Kelly hugging Patton, both smiling. Patton looked up and, impossibly, his smile grew. “Dad!” he said and wiggled out her hold to grab Logan’s hand. “Look at what I did today!” he tugged Logan closer to their chore chart and the long row of happy face stickers next to his name.

“I got all my homework done, hung up all my clothes, and took out the trash,” he pointed at the chart, bouncing on his toes. “All the trash, too, and emptied the dishwasher. And Roman even helped me make dinner!”

“He didn’t need much help,” Roman’s low voice rumbled from the kitchen and he stepped out, drying his hands. He’d tied on Logan’s well-worn ‘Combine for Pie’ apron, the top tight over his broad chest. But it… suited him, the faded navy blue accenting the green in his eyes, bits of cornmeal smudged at the apron's edges only proving its worth. Roman ruffled Patton’s hair and grinned. “Pat’s quite the chef.”

“He really is,” Logan agreed, smiling back at Roman and breathing again. The savory scents of cumin and a dark chocolate mole sauce filled his lungs and his smile broadened. He gave Patton’s hand another squeeze and grinned proudly at his son. “You’ve worked hard today, Patton. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Hello, Kelly." Logan blinked, head jerking up at Roman's sudden greeting. He’d actually forgotten she was standing there. Roman smiled at her, a little stiff, maybe, but polite and warm. "The enchiladas will be done in about an hour,” He inclined his head, an almost bow. “And there’s plenty. Are you staying for dinner?”

She stared at Roman, eyes flicking over his jewelry and his eyeliner, and at Patton’s expression as he grinned up at him. She narrowed her eyes at Roman’s hand where it now rested on Patton’s shoulder. Ice filled Logan’s veins at the steel behind her fake smile.

“Logan,” she said, turning to him as though Roman no longer existed. “I can’t believe you’d let some *** babysit my son.”

“Mom!” Patton cried and moved back, closer to Roman and keeping himself between him and Kelly.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Logan hissed at her and she blinked at him, her shock at his outburst quickly replaced with anger. She scowled and opened her mouth but he cut her off. “You may not say such things to my friends, you may not say such things in my home or in front of my son!” He opened the door wider and stepped aside, joining Patton and Roman. Patton held tight to his hand, and reached behind him with the other to hold onto Roman’s arm. Logan stood close enough to feel the warmth pouring off Roman’s side but he couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “Please leave.”

“Oh, come off it, Logan,” she rolled her eyes and stepped closer. “Take off the SJW cape for five seconds and consider—”

“Please leave, now,” he said again. His voice shook and he had to lock his knees to stop their trembling, but he didn’t stand down and he didn’t look away.

Her hands twitched at her sides as she glared back at him. After a long, breathless moment, her eyes darted over his shoulder at Roman, but he'd remained still and silent. “Fine,” she spat, stepping through the open door. She narrowed her eyes at Logan and her face twisted into a smirk. “You’re going to regret this, Logan.”

“I have a lot of regrets, Kelly,” he said, voice calmer than his shaking grip on the door should have permitted. “I’ll add it to the pile.” He didn’t wait for her response and instead closed and locked the door as soon as she was through.

Once it closed, he fell against the door, forehead pressed to the cold, smooth surface.

“Hey, Pat,” he heard Roman’s voice behind him. It was distorted and wobbly, like the periscope ‘phones’ at the park. Or tin cans connected with a string. “Why don’t you go set up a new Mario Kart tournament? I’ll be right down.” 

At some point, Logan must have released Patton’s hand. Fingers and wrist throbbing, his entire body trembled. Each breath caught in his throat, dull hooks dragging and and snagging against his flesh. Patton’s voice was too quiet to make out his words over the roaring in his ears, but he caught Roman’s soft response. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Patton said something else, a sharp edge of worry in his voice. “I’m okay, too, Pat. We’re too strong for the haters, aren't we?”

The hallway darkened and after a moment, Logan couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own blood pumping in his ears. He panted, both hands pressed hard against the door. A motorcycle raced past outside, and the rumbling engine vibrated under his hands, shifting into a pounding on the door. 

“Logan? Logan, don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you!” BANG BANG BANG

He pushed hard against it, keeping the door sealed shut, keeping everything out.

“I—I—I need a moment, Kels, p—please. I—” BANG BANG BANG

He tested the lock. The door was bolted shut. They were safe. They were safe.

“The kids will be back with my parents any minute and we’re not done talking!” BANG BANG BANG “Open the damn door!”

He couldn't hide in here forever but if he could just collect himself, he could—

BANG BANG BANG “Logan? Logan!” BANG BANG BANG 

The door was locked. No-one could get in. They were safe. They were safe, they were safe, they were safe, they were safe, they were safe…

BANG BANG BANG “Logan!”

Roman watched Patton descend the stairs to the game room. He looked back twice, eyes big with worry for his dad. Roman smiled back, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Pat,” he said again. Finally, Patton nodded and went downstairs. He waited until he heard the door click shut before approaching Logan. "Lo?" he murmured. Logan faced the door, both hands pressed against it like he was pushing her away. He muttered under his breath and Roman stepped closer, trying to understand. “Lo? Tell me, what do you need?” he asked quietly and gripped his shoulder. “Logan?”

“No, please!” Logan cried and slid to the floor, hands covering his head.

Roman dropped his hand and leapt back. “Shit, Lo, I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean to startle you.” Logan was practically curled in a ball, trembling as he covered his head and his face. Not startled.

Terrified.

Roman took a deep breath, forcing calm into his body, then crouched down so he was nearly at eye level. “You're safe, Lo. I shouldn't have touched you without asking, Lo. I’m sorry. I won't do it again.” His trembling slowed. He was listening. "You're safe, Lo," Roman said again.

Still panting, Logan slowly lowered his arms and sat on the floor with his back pressed against the door. He blinked at him through watery eyes, tears dotting his lenses. “Ro—Roman?” After a long moment, his vision seemed to clear. “Roman.” He shook his head and sucked in an unsteady breath. “I… I'm sorry. I’m sorry. I…" Logan looked at the walls around them, almost confused about where he was. "I overreacted.” He shook his head, eyes fixed on the floor between them. “I… I'm sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he murmured, keeping his voice low and steady. “No…” Roman tilted his head down to meet Logan’s eyes. “No. It's okay to not want someone to touch you without your permission, Lo.”

“You didn't… I'm fine. I'm sorry.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tight, fingertips white where they dug into his calves. A shield. His eyes grew more focused and he nodded. “I’m fine, I—" Logan's eyes shot up to Roman's. "Oh, god, Roman, I can't believe she said that. I'm so sorry.”

“You’re not responsible for her,” Roman gave him a lopsided grin. “There's a reason you divorced her, right?”

“Yeah,” Logan whispered and looked away, staring at a knot in the hardwood floor. Roman watched a tic under his eye jump, and how his hands shook against his legs. He still wasn’t breathing normally, either, holding his breath for an inordinately long time, and he seemed just a few steps away from wheezing. At this angle, Logan’s crooked fingers, the scar on his jaw and the other one by his ear were all visible. Roman had seen flashes of the burn that covered his palm, the mark where his wedding ring had seared the back of his finger just the most outward sign.

Realization crashed down on him, a wave of icy cold water that stole his breath as he stared at his… his friend.

“Hey, Lo?” Roman took another deep breath and sat completely, close enough that Logan could reach him if he wanted, but he didn’t invade his personal space again. “You can tell me to fuck off if I'm overstepping…” Logan looked up, eyes wide and guarded, and it took every bit of control Roman had not to just pull him right into his lap and wrap his arms around him. “Does she… does she hurt you?”

“What?” Logan shook his head and slid back, pressed into the corner near the door. He seemed to shrink, shoulders curled and arms wrapped even more tightly around his shins. “No. No, of c—course not. We h—h—hardly see ea—each other. It—it—it's…” Logan’s voice faded and he still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Did she?” Roman’s voice was quiet and calm. Logan looked up.

“W—we…" His head wobbled, almost a nod. "We had some p—pretty hea—heated arguments.” Logan looked away and Roman's eyes fell on another scar on his chin. Up close, the one on his ear looked like it had been a tear right through his earlobe. 

Roman nodded, forcing his hands to remain still in his lap and not just reach for him. He longed to push away the shadows Logan had wrapped around him, memories of old hurts. Kiss his scars and his tears, soothe his aches. But after the way he’d reacted before… 

Logan followed his gaze and hid his scarred hand behind his leg. “P—Patton’s waiting for you downstairs.” He nodded up at the chore chart on the wall. “He's done all his chores. I don't know how you did that but…” Logan smiled. It was tight, and his bottom lip trembled, but was genuine. “He's earned some happy time.”

“You wanna come down and play with us? It's easy to add another player.” Roman slid just a bit closer. “Having his dad there would make it an actually happy time for him.”

“Um…” He swallowed, his breathing still erratic. “Yes. Yes…” Logan nodded his head rapidly, more a tremor than a sign of affirmation. “I… ah, j—just need to… maybe g—get some tea.” He swallowed again and breathed heavily through his nose, lip caught between his teeth.

Roman watched Logan’s tremor. He gave him a small smile as he reached out to touch his forearm, but pulled back at the last moment. “I can make it and you can relax—” He gestured toward the kitchen but Logan recoiled, shame filling his face even as he dodged Roman’s touch.

Biting his own lip, Roman tried again. “Would company help while you make it? Or would it be more helpful to have some alone time?”

Logan stared up at him, eyes wide, the question behind them clear. How do you always know?

“A few minutes alone might help, thank you,” he murmured. “T—to collect… collect myself. If you don't mind, I… I don't mean to—“

He met Logan’s eyes and poured his heart into his smile. “Of course I don’t mind.” He stood, then offered both hands. Logan stared at them for a long moment before gripping them, fingers cold and shaking, palms clammy. Roman squeezed gently, thumbs rubbing circles against the backs of his hands. Keeping his movements slow and steady, he helped Logan onto his feet and nodded. It was difficult to let go, and he couldn’t resist one more gentle squeeze before eventually releasing Logan’s hands. 

He started back toward the stairs but looked over his shoulder, not really ready to leave him alone but wanted to give him what he asked for. “Is it okay if I come check on you in ten minutes if we don't see you down there by then?”

Logan nodded, still not completely himself, but his eyes had lost some of their haunted look and he met his gaze. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out and fresh tears welled. Finally, he made a little shooing gesture, a stiff smile painted on his face.

“We’ll see you in a bit. Ten minutes,” Roman emphasized with another smile. “And you know Patton, once he hears you’re playing, too, he won’t let you get out of it.”

---

Taglist: @crossiantgay Ask to be added :)

#The Uses of Adversity #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #Kelly Croft - OC #Logan Sanders #Roman Prince #Patton Croft #logince #eventually #cw: flashback #cw: redacted slur

[hauntedjpegcollection]

digging

wc: 2108 au: camp counselor ch: mouse, yasiel, tino

It’s raining as the twins dig. They’re in perfect tandem with each other—as they always are, even when they’re not. Yasiel swings dirt up over his shoulder. Muddy, it slaps the ground, dirties his nice dress slacks. He wipes a bleeding hand over his forehead and it smears pink. His skin’s not made tough for this. Not like his sisters.

Mouse digs frantically. Frenzied and powerful. She’s trying to get all the way to the center of the Earth, with the way she scrapes at the water lodged soil. Right to the middle, there’s lava down there. Careful, the floors made of lava! She pants, the rain pouring over her face in thick rivulets, making it hard to see. But she doesn’t need to. Just needs to keep digging, really. The ground opens up softer because of the rain, but becomes slippery, messy. Her jeans are sodden and her boots are dirty.

Yasiel whistles and she looks up. Lightning cracks across the sky, dramatic and beautiful. Mouse thinks that’s just like nature; to be perfectly in tune with Yasiel’s theatrics. He holds up his bleeding hands, his palms wounded from the rough handle of the shovels. His dark eyes meet hers, his long black hair sticking to his face in little snake patterns. Mouse brushes her own back with the heel of her palm. The rain continues.

“I can’t,” Yasiel explains quietly and she hears him even over the pouring rain, even over thunder. “It hurts.”

The hour-older twin looks above the hole she’s digging herself into. The black tarp has peeled back just enough to glimpse ghost white skin, an arm dangling out of it. She closes her eyes and swings dirt over her shoulder for it to thunk wetly behind her.

“I can keep going,” she tells her twin.

And she continues digging the grave.

—

Yasiel stands outside the car while Mouse attempts to turn it over for the fourth time. It grinds and makes a noise he doesn’t recognize—like an animal hacking up a lung—and then shuts off. He examines the half assed bandages across his palms while Mouse screams inside the car. It rocks back and forth as she kicks and thrashes, throws punches to the steering wheel and dashboard.

Yasiel can see a little bit of red poking through on his left palm, this small circular dot. The first aid kit in the trunk had been ancient, and had barely enough gauze to actually cover both palms. The pain is dull and throbbing and hurts every time he moves his fingers—but he doesn’t dare complain to his sister. Especially not as she storms her way out of the drivers side and back to the front of the car.

“I didn’t know you learned how to fix cars in the last year or so,” he calls mildly, looking up at the dark sky. It’s punctured by bright white stars, stretching as far as the eye can see, until the trees begin to cut it off. Despite the storm they’d just survived (barely), there are no clouds any longer. They’d all smeared away to reveal the most beautiful canopy of stars he’d ever been under.

“Fuck off,” Mouse snarls as she slaps the hood of the car shut. She punches it for good measure and then slumps across it. “Just fuck off.” This is said softer and quieter and more to herself. Yas can hear her sniffling, holding back tears. He’d go to her—he wants to go to her—but he isn’t sure what to do with his bloody hands. Isn’t sure she’d even accept a hug from him.

They stay like that for longer than he wants to admit. The car becomes an island between them, her at the hood, him at the trunk. He’d divide it up into the years they’d spend apart before this night, and yet, he doesn’t have the mental energy. The creativity is drained from him, with the split blisters across his hands. Yasiel looks up at the stars while Mouse’s sniffling slowly peters off.

“We could walk,” he offers.

“I could walk,” she argues. Yasiel bristles slightly, his lips curling from his teeth. He’s ready to argue with her—she’s ready to argue back. It’s like that with them, all of the time. But he’s exhausted and depleted, and afraid he smells like dead body, so instead he shuts up. She shuffles from around the car. She nearly approaches, and then freezes when headlights swing around the bend in the road.

Yasiel steps in front of Mouse without thinking, and she holds his elbow, also without thinking.

The truck rumbles to a stop. For a brief moment, Yasiel is thinking of the knife Mouse keeps on her. The wicked hunting one with a curved edge, a serrated middle used for gutting. His heart makes a quick marathon run into his throat, into his mouth almost, as the window slowly rolls down.

“Y’al’right?” It’s all one word that Yasiel blinks to parse together. Y’all alright? Mouse’s curling hand tightens on his elbow. The face above the trucks window is mostly in shadow. He catches hints of an older man, brushed back black and gray hair. Yasiel peers, with narrowed eyes, tucks the arm Mouse clings to further back around her. “Whoa, now. Lookin’ like you need help s’all. Got a flat er’somethin’?”

“You’re terrible at enunciating, man,” Yasiel comments without thinking. Mouse shoves her fist into his spine, making him jump forward with both hands raised.

To his surprise, it makes the stranger in the truck laugh. He has a rich, deep chested laugh that seems to match the rumbling of his truck. It’s the sort of laugh Yasiel likes. He clears his throat, attempts a smile. His wet clothes cling to him in a way that is not just uncomfortable, but borderline painful. His hair stays flattened mostly to his skull in a wet cap, but the occasional strand frizzes up and flies away, messy like he hates it.

“It broke down on us. We’re not sure what’s wrong with it.”

“Storms goin’ to be comin’ back in.”

“What?” Yasiel glances back to Mouse, whose eyes have gone round and wide. She’s peering into the cab, with curious intensity.

“In the eye of it, right now. It’s movin’ this way again, though. Don’t want to be caught in that.” The offer, although not said aloud, is plain. Yasiel just can’t see where the offer ends, and it makes him nervous. Makes the heart in his mouth go sour so he has to swallow it down. Mouse darts from around him, getting close to the strangers truck window. He’s hissing, grabbing at her waist to yank her back, but she’d always been stronger than him.

“We ain’t hookers,” Mouse says in a deadly cold, serious voice.

“That’s good, I was not lookin’ for hookers on this fine Tuesday night.”

“And what are you doing in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night?”

There’s rustling from inside the truck and then suddenly Mouse is backing away with a flashlight in hand. It looks like the heavy duty kind and Yasiel feels prickling across his skin—could easily become a weapon in her hands. Instead, she clicks it on and waves it across the side of the truck.

CAMP COLD HOLLOW is written across it in bright yellow font.

“Patrolin’ the camps perimeters. Y’all didn’t know you passed onto the camps property line?”

Yasiel feels cold all over, right to his fucked up, ripped up hands. He swallows hard, stepping closer to Mouse, and thus the truck. He can see the man better now. He’s got kind wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and full facial hair thats salt and pepper like the hair. Yasiel’s eyes flicker over his features while his heart beats loudly against his throat. He’s handsome, in a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Innocuous.

“We’re lost,” he tells the man.

“Picked a helluva night to get lost.”

“Are there good nights to get lost?” Mouse quips back, handing him the flashlight. Yas can tell she likes him; which is good and bad, he supposes. “So you’ll take us into town?”

“Naw. That’s an hour and a half drive. I’ll take you to camp though, so you can rest the night. Call a tow in the morning.”

“We can’t do that, Nelsy.” Yasiel whispers to her in Spanish over her shoulder. Mouse’s long, slender arms cross over her chest. Her dirty boot taps the ground as she thinks. “We have to get out of here. After what we just did?”

“You can’t walk into town. You’ll die, you’re too pathetic.”

“I’m not pathetic!”

Mouse ends the conversation by crossing around the truck to the other side. Yasiel slips across wet dirt following her, his hands stinging painfully as he thoughtlessly curls them into fists. She yanks open the passenger door and the lights in the car spring on. They reveal the man entirely now. He leans against the drivers door, one arm over the passenger seat head rest, the other forward. His wrist lazily dangles on the steering wheel. He’s grinning a bit, almost seems to be regretting his choices as Mouse starts yanking on the passenger seat.

“I’m Mouse,” she says, as she finally gets it to fall forward. The pathetic expanse of a back seat in the truck opens up. “He’s Yasiel. And he’s sitting in the back.”

—

The strangers name is Tino. He keeps the radio on low, to fill the silence that descends into the truck. Mouse keeps herself perched with her back to the door, one leg folded under her, the other hiked up. She’d not even put her seatbelt on, which drives Yasiel insane but he chooses not to say anything. The silence continues up until Mouse decides she wants to ruin it.

“So are you a creepy pervert, working at a Summer camp and all?”

“Nelsy,” Yasiel snaps his teeth together. He’d fished out his glasses that he’d tucked away during the storm. He cleans it furiously on the edge of his shirt, but it only smears around dirt and oil and makes him more angry. He directs it at her. “Behave.”

“Does she not usually?” Tino asks in fluent Spanish, with a backward glance in the rear view mirror. The twins look to each other then, with rounded wide eyes. Yasiel crawls backward in a panic, trying to remember what they’d said before getting in the truck—but it’s a blur. The whole night is slowly becoming a blur. And Tino’s rough, hoarse laugh is oddly soothing. Makes his anxious hands stop clenching and unclenching, spreading the red dots of blood.

“Are you married?” Mouse moves smoothly into a new topic, her dark eyes lidded as she stares at him. The truck sways across the dirt road, bumping up here and there. Tino flexes his hand around the steering wheel, glancing at it, as if to confirm himself. “Married men don’t always wear rings.”

“That’s awfully dishonest of ‘em,” he replies easily. Yasiel tucks himself forward again.

“Don’t engage with her. She gets worse, trust me.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Hey now,” Tino interrupts the two of them with a chastising tongue tut. The heel of his palm turns the steering wheel easily, in a fluid and attractive motion as he pulls in under a large sweeping wooden arch. The camp, Yasiel presumes, is just ahead of them.

“Y’all will have to use the communal showers while I get beds arranged for ya.” He parks the truck and it has to jerk itself to a stop, like turning off is a chore. “Can I trust y’all to sit here and be good while I go get you clothes and a towel?”

Mouse and Yasiel share a glance between each other. His bloodied hands, from the grave digging shovel, feel almost numb. Mouse has dirt on the side of her jaw, when she’d brushed sweat and hair back from her skin, soil from the grave. They look back to Tino and smile at the same time.

“Sure,” Yasiel says.

“No,” Mouse replies at the exact same time.

Tino pauses for a long moment, assessing between the two. He leans across the car, making Mouse slowly back herself against the car door. Then he takes the hat on the dashboard and tucks it on his head. It suits him, a baseball cap with COLD HOLLOW stamped on it. Yasiel tries smiling wider to be convincing.

“Y’all are gonna get along with our counselors,” he says and then steps out the truck.

#mm #ym #tl #camp au #i was lowkey happy with this when i first wrote it

[fangirleaconmigo]

How about some intimate but unrushed rainy-day-on-the-couch wlw smut? No pairing preference 😊 If this doesn't fit your writing mood no worries as well!

Thank you! You know what, I’ve been wanting to do Philippa and Triss so that is what I’ll do.

Philippa x Triss

Explicit but just barely. Fade to black mostly. (I’m trying to actually write shorter fics)

——-

“Pet.”

Philippa watched the red curls slip through her fingers.

Triss stirred and wiped her face on Phillips’s chunky knit throw blanket. “Shit. Sorry. Fell asleep again.”

Philippa closed the book. The plunking of the rain against the roof grew more frenzied.

“You’re like a large sexy baby, little one. The moment you don’t have any stimulus, you fall right asleep.

Triss laughed sleepily and pulled herself up. She wrapped her arms around Philippa.

“You just have a nice voice.” Triss placed a soft peck on Philippa’s cheek. “What should we do then? We could bake something. Oh! Let’s play a game.”

“A game?”

“Yes. Truth or dare.” Triss grinned. “I was always good at that one.”

Philippa snorted. That’s because there’s no one you won’t kiss.

Triss pinched her. “You’re so mean.”

“You love it.”

Philippa wished she hadn’t said that.

Love.

Triss had been mooning at her for weeks, waiting for an “I love you too.” Philippa had been steadfastly ignoring her. She didn’t care for that sort of thing. She had only ever told people she loved them when it suited her needs. And this did not suit her needs.

“I, unfortunately, do—-love—-it.” Triss blushed.

Philippa spoke quickly. “Alright then. Truth or dare. You go first.”

Triss sat up and crossed her arms.

Philippa felt an impending doom crackling in the air, louder than the thunder.

“Truth: tell me you love me, or-“

Philippa rolled her eyes. “You’re being childish.”

“—dare, go outside and dance in the rain.”

Philippa was grateful that she had a nice porch. She could stay relatively dry while she contemplated what kind of dancing she could possibly do in a mud puddle.

She pulled her shawl around her and grimaced at the sheet of water coming down from the gray skies. She just wanted to be back on her couch with a beautiful redhead asleep on her lap. But no. The beautiful redhead was torturing her instead.

Triss threw up her hands.

“Look at you!! You look like I’m leading you to your death! It’s but even cold! It’s just wet!”

Philippa huffed and looked away.

“You are such a baby, Phil!”

Triss took one step down the porch stairs.

“What are you doing, Triss?”

Triss threw up her arms. “I feel like I’m trying to get a toddler to eat her broccoli! It feels GOOD saying I LOVE YOU to someone you LOVE.”

“Triss,” Philippa said. It came out whiny. She covered her mouth.

“And it feels GOOD!” Triss said,” (She was beginning to sound a bit hysterical) to DANCE in the RAIN!”

Philippa tried to stop her. But Triss slipped from her grasp.

And there she was. In a mud puddle. In Philippa’s yard.

“Someone is going to see you!” Philippa called through the rain. She had quite a bit of property, so that wasn’t strictly true. But it was the only thing she could think of.

“I don’t care!”

Triss danced in the rain. Philippa wasn’t sure what kind of dance it was. It looked like it belonged in a strip club actually. But Triss looked happy. Her cares fell from her face. She lifted her arms and spun.

It actually did look kind of fun.

Philippa noticed the branch just in time. She dropped her shawl and was standing right next to Triss when she tripped.

Her arms were suddenly full of a very wet Triss.

“You caught me!”

“I did.”

And Philippa looked down at her desperate little soaking wet idiot, and she did the unthinkable.

“Because I love you.”

Triss leapt up and squealed and almost busted her lip kissing her. They laughed and stumbled back to the porch and plopped onto the big chair on the porch, kissing and grasping at one another.

Then Triss slipped from her grasp again. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. Philippa didn’t even try to hide her whining this time.

“Where are you going?”

Triss sunk to her knees. She nudged apart Philippa’s legs.

“Positive reinforcement."

#the witcher #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #Philippa x Triss #Merihart #there’s not much smut because #apparently when I do that they become really really long #ALSO #apparently #i cannot stop writing feelings #descarada writes #descarada writes merihart

[multifandomsofficial]

Name:

Paring: John x reader

Theme: Oh boy, it's you [As The World Caves In by Sarah Corthan]

Type: parts eight to nine of Judas' betrayal

Warnings: same as the others, arguing

...

PART EIGHT

...

"Why isn't she here?" Zebedee voiced, as John sunk to the sand.

"This is all my fault." He whispered, as Zebedee sat with him.

"You sound like y/n." His abba gently smiled. "Claiming that something is your doing when it's clearly not."

John forced a laugh, looking at the sea. "This is where I first met her."

"Ha, you've told that story. She thought you were older than James. You couldn't stop telling anyone that for a time after." Zebedee recalled. John thought back, too. There was much of that story he, nor Big James, ever told. Like how she thought they were both crazy people who were drunk. "But, we should keep looking."

Zebedee brushed himself off, but his younger son didn't move.

"How far could she have gone? Especially in that little time. And it's getting dark, abba." John worried, before his father stopped him.

"And those are the best reasons to keep looking."

...

"You mean Judas said all of that?" Eden questioned, handing y/n a cup of water. "Y/n, you should have told Jesus at least!"

"You could have died with those kind if threats!" Mary Magdalene exclaimed, caressing y/n's hand.

"John would've done something stupid if I told him then." She sobbed, putting a hand on her stomach. "And I'm pregnant, and there's....so much going on."

"Wait, you're...pregnant?" Eden mumbled, rubbing her friend's back. "Does-"

"No, he doesn't. I don't know what to do."

"You're pregnant?" The women turned to see Simon Peter in the doorway. "Do you want me to go get John or something?"

"Please, but Simon," Y/n shook her head, sobbing harder. "Don't tell him about any of this."

...

"Did you find her?" John heard the other disciples ask. He couldn't hold back the tears anymore. It's dark, his wife isn't thinking straight and in grief, and now she's missing.

Zebedee moved him to chair and pushed past the disciples. "We checked where we thought she'd be, but she wasn't there."

"I'll go get Tamar and Ramah." Thomas mumbled, not wanting to be there when John ranted. Simon Z moved with him.

"John, where did you check?" Big James asked.

John only shook his head, not daring to look up. His voice refused to work correctly.

"Near the sea." Zebedee said for his son.

"Wait, Mary and Eden went in that direction." Andrew realized. "They might have found her first." Others seemed to agree with him.

...

PART NINE

...

"John," everyone turned to Simon Peter in the doorway. "Eden and Mary found y/n."

John stood up quickly following his friend, "Where?"

"My house. Also, she said something about....but she didn't want me to tell you."

"What is it?" John asked anyway, fearing the worst.

"Faster you get there, faster you find out." Peter replied, as little thunder started running in the direction. "I didn't-agh, whatever." Peter yelled, going after him.

...

Eden and Mary were cuddling y/n when John bolted threw the door, relief visibly flowing through him.

"You should see who's here." Mary gently told her, as y/n turned to see John plastered in the doorway. But she looked away as Peter came in, too.

"We'll be outside, alright?" Eden whispered, as both her and Mary got up. Simon left with them, closing the door. There was cold silence between John and y/n.

"I don't know where to start." Y/n mumbled, getting up and looking at her husband. He folded his arms and looked down.

"Why do you think this is you fault?" He asked, looking at her again. She shook her head.

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Y/n, love, I do. I really do."

"I.....I saw a letter, from Judas, to Rome, about how he was planning on arresting Jesus. With their permission." She couldn't look at John. Y/n knew he'd be fuming. "Judas found me reading it, and threatened me to not tell anyone about anything." She looked to see the hurt in his eyes, the trembling of his jaw, how he was biting the inside of his cheek, how tears were forming. John willing letting all of this happen.

"What was his threat?" John asked, as their eyes met. Y/n had tearing streaming down her cheeks. Never ending rivers of salty water.

#marvelfandomsofficial #the chosen #the chosen x reader

[whumpthisway]

Pirates!

A/N: So about a week ago, i got inspired by this awesome prompt about pirates by @whump-mania and @deluxewhump and wrote this little piece! I'd hoped i'd get the inspiration to write a bit more because i do like, but I don't know if I will, so here it is anyways.

CW: body horror, past abuse, past torture, near-death, drowning, dismemberment (not to the MC), guns, murder

~

Cannon balls exploded through The Galway’s thick belly, flinging lethal shards of wood in every direction. Huddled down with his shaved head clamped between his knees, Indy gritted his teeth and tried not to piss himself.

At first, the noise had been unbearable; the shattered wood of the ship’s leaking sides flying apart, the chest-vibrating explosions of their and the pirates’ cannons, the men’s violent and terror-filled screams, the crack of rifles up on deck and clashing of metal as the rifles ran short of shot and the Navy resorted to steel blades and galley knives. Now, Indy’s ears were thick with ringing and he couldn’t have said what was happening more than two feet away from him, let alone who was winning the battle above deck.

Filmy, debris-filled water sloshed across the filthy boards of the brig’s deck and Indy’s hyperventilating breaths hitched on a hysterical sob. Maybe the Navy and the pirates attacking them would kill each other and both their sorry ships would sink with steady inevitability into the uncaring, thrashing sea.

God wouldn’t be so kind, Indy thought. The sea didn’t care whether it swallowed up a good man or an evil one, a whole man or a broken one, but Indy didn’t dare wish that his sins would be washed away with any such quiet dignity. It would be too much to hope for that the whole ship and its crew would be lost to the sea beds, no-one alive left to tell of what hell he’d been through, or how his will had been so easily broken.

A cannonball ripped a ragged, gaping hole through the ship’s wall at the far end of the brig and Indy screamed into his arm, clamped over his face. The ship shuddered, a giant beast in the throes of death, and Indy wrapped his other arm even tighter around the brig’s thick bars as the deck tilted alarmingly. The sea frothed and churned, soaking him up the waist in icy water, black in the dim light. Indy sobbed, shaking violently as the sea dug its salty fingers into his numerous cuts and set them throbbing like a fresh jellyfish sting.

If the ocean had cared for the morals of the men it took, it would spare Vince, Indy decided as he screwed his eyes shut, his heart thunderous in his ringing ears. And, hell, maybe Rudy would make it too. The cat hadn’t done anything wrong either, Indy thought with panicked humour. Knowing the scraggly, sly beast, she’d managed to find somewhere dry and safe to wait out the battle. Indy only wished that he could slip through these bars and do the same. He’d lost half his bodyweight or more, but the bars were still too closely packed together to let him escape between them. If the water rose further, or a cannonball erupted through the ship’s side too close by, or any one of the innumerable wooden splinters flying around hit him; he was dead and there was shit all he could do about it.

It took a long time before Indy’s hearing returned enough for him to realise that the battle that had been warring up above had fallen quiet. The water was still rising, lapping at his chest and leaving him numb with the chill. It was hard to hear anything from above deck with the slap and shclish of it butting up against the ship’s walls but Indy caught snatches of shouting. His heart drummed against his ribs, as trapped as he was within these bars.

A gunshot ricocheted through the air, cutting through the lingering ringing in his ears, and Indy flinched like a kicked horse. His bruised ribs ached as he jerked backwards, as if he could possibly push himself any further into the brig’s corner.

The sea continued, indomitably, to rise. When it began to slosh against his neck, Indy forced himself up to standing, clinging to the brig’s bars as he sagged against them, giving the keen of an injured animal at the pain. He struggled to balance once he was up, the sway of the ship so much harder to ride out when he was upright and his slick, frozen hands barely able to hold onto the bars. The sea was up to his hips, frigid and angry at being caught inside the ship’s walls, and it roiled with repressed power, growing stronger with every inch it rose. Indy’s face was so cold he didn’t know if he was still crying or if it was just the salty ocean spray, not that it mattered. He didn’t know if he wanted the sea to keep climbing till it closed over his head, or if he still held out on the hope of someone rescuing him.

How stupid was that? All this time and he still had half an eye on the wooden staircase, watching for a saviour that didn’t exist. Regardless, it didn’t matter what he wanted. He couldn’t change anything. If the captain had taught him anything, it was his own utter uselessness.

The sea continued to climb and Indy clung to the bars as he was lifted off his feet by the force of the waves. The ship was groaning under the strain and Indy didn’t know how much longer she would be able to stay afloat with all the holes punched into her sides.

Indy was gasping at the last half a foot of air space between the sea and the ceiling, fully afloat in the churning water, when the sharp clatter of boot heels came from the stair way. Indy whipped his head around, continuing to cling to the brig bars but unable to make himself call out. A wave of water sloshed over his head and, numb limbs flailing, it took him too long to get back to the surface.

Choking and coughing, eyes streaming, Indy yelped when a rough hand grabbed his arm. Instinctively jerking away, Indy swallowed another mouthful of foul water as the waves tugged him back under. He’d lost his grip on the brig’s bars in his shock and, disorientated in the black water, Indy’s lungs burned as he lost track of which way was up.

Strong hands yanked at his arm and this time, Indy grabbed onto them. The terror of drowning was too strong and he found, as he was dragged forcefully back into the gunpowder-filled air, that he still wanted to live after all.

The brig door was somehow, miraculously open, and Indy was towed out of his loathed cage with barely a moment to catch his breath. The sea was almost at the ceiling and Indy didn’t have any chance to see who was dragging him determinedly forwards before the air ran out and it was a dizzying, lung-burning scramble the last few feet through the water to the stairs.

Knocking his knees hard against the wood, Indy retched up salt water and acid as he pulled himself out of the water on hands and knees.

“Move, fucking move,” a gravelly voice barked at him. The hand on his arm roughly tugged him up the stairs and, uncoordinated with cold and breathlessly disorientated, Indy could only try to keep up.

Water seeped through the floorboards of the middle deck and the Navy soldiers’ belongings washed back and forth in the shallow water. There were bodies up here, sprawled prone and leaking blood into the sea like scarlet paint.

“Move!”

Indy dragged his gaze away from the splatter of brain matter across the wall. As they climbed up the stairs to the main deck, he caught a glimpse of the unfamiliar blond hair and broad shoulders of the man in front of him, his scarily large hand gripping Indy’s matchstick arm with enough force to leave a black and blue bruise. Then the incongruously bright sunlight blinded Indy’s eyes, so used to the squalid darkness, and he staggered up into the chaos on the main deck.

Men were screaming, giving furious orders or yelling in desperate pain, and The Galway was beginning to tilt at an alarming angle. Through his blurred eyes, Indy barely recognised her. Her mast was barely there, cannonballs had wrought unfixable damage all across the shot-pocked deck, and the sailors that had previously manned and mopped and run errands and slept and pissed within her walls were now lying in haphazard, bloody piles.

The ship groaned and creaked as she leant alarmingly to port. A severed arm rolled across the deck towards Indy and he retched violently, his ears ringing deafeningly. The wind was cutting up here and it swept right through his sodden, thin clothes, chilling him utterly and leaving him numb and disconnected.

The one spot of warmth – the harsh grip on his upper arm – dragged him along without relenting and Indy staggered after them without conscious thought. When he fell over a body, hitting his knees on the slick with a bone-juddering impact, he was lifted bodily up and thrown over someone’s shoulder with enough force to knock the air from him. As the blood rushed to his head, he let himself hang limp. He couldn’t hear a thing and his vision was swimming with black dots, but he was somehow acutely aware of the drops of water leaking out of his wet hair and falling to the swaying deck below.

~

so there you are *shrug* <3

#pirates #mine #my writing #my fic #brin and indy #yeah i named em #whump #injured #angst #prisoner #drowning #rescue #harsh caretaker