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doe-writes-stuff · 1 year

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You'd left. Off to take care of a personal matter in the west. Alone. With no way of knowing how long you'd be gone, or even if you'd come back at all, you'd parted on...strained terms. Despite the odds against ever seeing you again, Daryl made sure to keep a light on for you.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Slight angst, reader is described to have a female relative (relation not specified). Strong language, 18+ explicit sexual content, mixture of rough sex and slow body worship. Set during first half of season 9, but doesn't follow strict canon timeline or events.

"I should come with you."

"Daryl...you can't." You'd said, regret and guilt dripping from each word forced out of your mouth but doing your best to remain firm. They stung, but you didn't take them back. Didn't try to sugarcoat it. This wasn't easy on you, and no matter how much he understood why, it still hurt to hear. Watching you with your bag already packed hurt worse. "Rick needs you, Judith and Carol, and everyone else. It should just be me."

His head had shaken slowly. "They'll manage just fine without me for awhile."

"This could all be some pointless goose chase, and I...I feel bad enough even deciding to go, like I'm abandoning all of you, but..." He can see it, the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and the determination behind them to not let them fall. You hated crying. He knew that. "I need to do this. I need to know. She might still be out there."

"Don't mean you gotta do it alone, Y/N."

"I can't ask that of you."

"Don't have to."

"Daryl-"

"I mean it." He pushes, tone a bit more pressing than before. He shifts closer, drawing your eyes towards his own. He reaches down and takes your hands in his own, thumb idly brushing along your knuckles in comfort. "Goin' out there by yourself ain't safe. Ain't smart, neither. Need someone to have your back. Can't do things alone no more, you know that."

You're silent, worrying your lip beneath your teeth. He can't quite read the expression in your face, in your eyes. Your thoughts are too muddled, swirling with indecision and a plethora of emotions all vying for dominance. Terse seconds pass, silence between you, but eventually you've seem to come to a decision. His heart settles a little, satisfied that he'd made his case. Your head ducks down momentarily, which he takes as acceptance.

Daryl nods. "I'll tell Rick in the mornin' that we're leaving, maybe see if I can pack some extra provisions from the pantry. Doubt it'll take much convincin'. I brought back half that shit anyway."

The only response he gets is a small, slow nod. But it's agreement enough for him, and he pulls you into his arms. It's instinct now to relax under his protective embrace, allowing your fears and your guilts to fall away, if only for a moment. They'd come back in full when you next awoke.

"Come sleep." He mutters against your hair, feeling the way his lips press a kiss onto the crown of your head. Your eyes close. "We'll figure it out in the morning."

Your fingers clench against the back of his shirt, head buried into his chest. He's warm, the beat of his heart a comforting sound. One you know you'll be without for a long while. You make sure to breathe in his scent, filling your senses and making your decision all the harder to enforce.

And so you don't resist when he guides you back to bed, and you savor the way his hands feel on your skin. Devotion and love spill from his lips and yours. And when you lay beside him, listening to his even breathing as he falls asleep amongst the tousled covers, you try burning this memory into your head forever.

'Don't come looking for me.' 'I hope you can understand. I hope you can forgive me.' 'If it'd been Merle, wouldn't you feel the same?' 'I'm sorry. I will always love you, no matter what, no matter how long. Even if...I don't make it.'

Daryl stares down at the messily-scrawled note folded on his nightstand. He'd read at least 3 times by now, but had barely paid attention to the past few, the words blurring together. Noting the dried tear-stains on the edges, he feels a hollowness creep into his chest. It's as you say in your letter. Had it been Merle, all those years ago back at the prison, he'd have done the same.

He understands. He wished he didn't.

It would make it all easier to hate you. But he can't bring himself to.

The beginning days are the hardest. Your absence is a blatant, empty spot in his daily routine. He'd turn to say something to you, only for you to not be there. He'd stop by the house after hunts and scavenge missions to see you, only to remember the lights would be off and you'd not be home.

Each instance of forgetting, just for a split second, that you'd left sticks another proverbial knife in his chest and twists. They bring back the moment of discovering you'd left him behind all over again. It stung. It twisted the hilt a little bit more, digs the blade in a little deeper. It fucking sucked, each and every time.

Daryl had an excellent poker face, but even the others were beginning to notice how much it was affecting him. It was a lesson in patience, the amount of times he'd been asked if he was alright in those first few weeks after you'd left. Most of them he'd been able to field off with a gruff 'Just fine.' Others saw past the facade.

Rick had a good sense of things, and he knew Daryl well enough by now that his words often didn't tell the whole story when it came to those pesky internal 'feelings.' He'd asked him along on more scavenge runs, just to get him out of Alexandria. But of course, not one to pry too much into Daryl's business, he didn't ask the questions the hunter knew was hanging off the tip of his tongue.

Carol was one of them too, unsurprisingly. Half the time he thought she could read his mind. She made trips to Alexandria more often, popping over with pretty weak reasons for visiting from the Kingdom. She hovered, appearing at the most unpredictable of times. It didn't take a genius to know why. When Daryl least expected her, she'd be there with an offer to go hunt together. To go take care of Judith so Michonne and Rick could get out for awhile and spend some time beyond the walls.

It helped. He appreciated that Rick and Carol never pried. Rather, they were just...there. A companion to fill the long silences he found himself left with during the day. A distraction when he needed it most, since even solo outings past the walls were often filled with thoughts of you. Having someone else there eased the hurt, and muffled the many negative thoughts that clouded his mind in his moments of solitude.

Weeks stretched, and you were still gone. No means of communication meant Daryl was left to wonder about what you were doing, where you were, and if you were still even alive at all. It didn't get easier with time, the ache in his chest, the missing piece in his life. It just became familiar, and so he worked around it. Sidestepping it each and every morning until it was a constant numbness he had trained himself to ignore.

It was frightening, how easy it seemed to be. How easily he could seem to live without you around. Once upon a time, that didn't sound so feasible.

He felt guilty. He felt bitter.

He hoped you were doing ok.

Daryl didn't talk about you anymore. Not to others. And nowadays, Judith only occasionally brought up your name, asking where Aunt Y/N was, and when you'd be home. He was usually able to dodge an answer by offering to play a game.

There'd come a day when he couldn't get away with doing that, but...well, the time for that hadn't yet passed.

At some point, he'd quit counting the days. That didn't mean Daryl stopped missing you--he certainly still did. But the endless pull towards someone out there past the gates, miles and miles away, wasn't quite so strong. Whether it was a sign of him moving on, or just growing to accept the fact that you'd left...he still couldn't tell.

He didn't want to look into it all that much anyway.

Daryl hadn't heard anyone approaching as he stood smoking on the porch of his home. The wind was strong, and the neighbor's makeshift wind chimes had covered the sound.

"Borrow a smoke?"

His head whips back to see Rosita sauntering her way up to his home, arms crossed and hair tied back in a pony tail. He straightens, reaching up to the inside pocket of his vest to grab the pack of cigarettes as she stops a few feet away. Shaking one out, he hands it to her. After a flick of his lighter, the end begins to smoke and she takes a long drag.

"Thanks."

Daryl only hums in reply, standing there on this windy night, looking out towards the gated and walled entrance of Alexandria.

For several minutes, neither of them speak, enjoying their cigarette in companionable silence. Daryl wondered why Rosita was out so late, but figured maybe she just couldn't sleep.

Eventually, the minutes and lack of conversation gets to her, and she gives a quiet laugh, gesturing towards the door to Daryl's home. "You know you leave that lamp on every night in this front room?"

Daryl glances back, but only shakes his head. "I know."

"Drives Mrs. Beckett crazy." Rosita continues, flicking the ashes off of her cigarette, head nodding towards the house across from his. "Likes to bitch about how you're wasting electricity, or how she can't sleep because she knows it's on. It's like she can't talk about anything else."

"The grid can handle one fuckin' lamp." He mutters without further explanation, giving a shrug.

"I've told her that. So's Eugene, for what good that did." Rosita says with an amused smile, side-eyeing the hunter as she sucked down the last of her cigarette. She tosses it to the ground and digs it into the wood of the porch with her shoe. "Won't stop her from complaining about it, though."

He doesn't bother responding to that. Frankly, he didn't give a shit what Mrs. Beckett thought or wanted. He barely knew the old woman anyway.

"Why do you leave it on, anyway?"

This time, he doesn't say anything, just continues looking out towards the wall. He knows she's smart, that his silence speaks louder than any explanation would. Rosita figures it out quickly, and hums her understanding after a moment.

Another long pause settles, before she shifts in place and watches Daryl's closely when she speaks next. "I got talking with Eugene the other day."

Daryl had a feeling where this conversation was going--a place he didn't really want it to go--but obliged her clear bait anyway. "And?"

"Figured it was about 40 days to Cheyenne, on foot one way." She said carefully, not wanting to push too far, but hoping he still recognized she was worried about him. "35 if she pushed, and much less than that if she rigged a car."

Daryl knew what she was getting at, but still played dumb anyway. "So?"

Rosita saw right through him, but pointed out what they both knew despite that. "Daryl...it's been 6 months."

He straightened, agitation making him fidget, his jaw set tightly. "Don't mean a damn thing."

"Look, I'm all for holding out hope, but...at some point it's time to let go. How likely is it that she's still-"

"Think I'll turn in. Wind's gonna bring a storm tonight." He interrupted suddenly, not daring to look her in the face as he said his goodbye. "Best get headin' home."

He heard her sigh, and that tension in the air made it seem like she was about to say more. But in the end, she took the hint and descended the steps of his porch, footsteps heard walking down the sidewalk towards her own house.

For 8 months and 13 days, you'd been gone. And yet still, as you walked up that road towards the imposing walls of Alexandria, you felt like it was only yesterday that you'd snuck out the gates before the sun had come up.

The pack was heavy on your shoulders; not from supplies, but the weariness of a long journey. Of burdens and the weight of your decisions and actions. They settled, making your bones ache. But you felt lighter and lighter the closer you got to home.

Home. How you'd missed it so much.

And you'd missed him, too. Daryl had never left your mind. Not once.

Maybe the seasons had changed, but you recognized each abandoned car leading up to the Alexandria Safe Zone, even the particularly gnarled trees off to the side of the road. Little waypoints and landmarks that you'd memorized and passed by hundreds of times before. Now, each one seemed to propel your feet that little bit further, encouraging you to keep going.

Almost there.

And when those gates finally did come into view at the end of the road, you nearly cried. That feeling of relief as it washed over you was...immeasurable. Palpable and freeing. You couldn't begin to describe just how much it affected you.

There were, of course, look-outs at the gate for signs of approaching danger. And while you would've appreciated having been recognized after so many months away, you supposed that would have been too much to ask for.

"That's far enough!" The person on watch called, pointing a gun in your direction. From this distance, you couldn't tell who it might have been. "State your name and business!"

"My name's Y/N." You say, holding your hands out to make it clear you weren't holding onto a weapon. Your knife is clearly visible in its small sheath at your hip, but you weren't actively reaching for it. "I've been gone for a long time, but this is my home."

"Right." The person says with doubt clear in their tone. "As if I'd just believe you."

"I want to talk to Rick Grimes, then." You say calmly, smiling when the barrel of their gun lowered just a fraction. You felt a little silly having to name-drop some of the most influential members of the community, but whatever made them believe you, you supposed. "Or Daryl Dixon, or Michonne-"

"Alright, alright, hang on a second." They cried from the tower, lowering the gun and holding up a walkie talkie to their mouth. They spoke too low to hear, but you gathered they were calling into one of the three people you'd just mentioned.

You don't have to wait long, before a commotion on the other side of the gate alerts you to someone's approach. They call for the gate to open. Your heart soars, waiting to see a familiar face.

The metal gate slides open, and a man steps out cautiously. He's a bit rounder in the belly than you remembered--the benefits of safety in the end of days--and the full beard is new. But there's no mistaking the way he walks, and the way his eyes take you in when he steps past the gate's threshold.

A smile's broken out over your face as the two of you walk closer, until finally you embrace Rick with a tight hug, laughing at the reunion. If there was still any doubt that you were indeed a citizen of Alexandria, it was now dashed.

"About time you came home." He says in a rasp, patting his hand against your back in a comforting gesture. "It's been too long."

"I know. I'm sorry." You admit, guilt and regret coloring your voice. "I shouldn't have left."

You pull away, but Rick gets a good look at you and pats your shoulder with his hand. "You felt you had to. It's family. I understand."

You nod, on the verge of tears, but somehow managing to keep composed. "You're family too. Lost sight of that for a little while, I guess."

Rick waves you inside, giving a wave to the look-out at the on watch as a sign that everything was fine. You enter the walls for the first time in 8 months, admiring everything new and all that had stayed the same.

"How's Judith?" You ask.

"Growin' bigger every day. Can hardly believe she's already three." Rick smiles fondly, shaking his head. Then, he turns to look at you. "She asks for you, sometimes. Wonders where you've been."

The thought of seeing the youngest Grimes was appealing, though you were still weary from your travels. You probably didn't have the necessary energy to meet with her just yet.

"I'll see her once I've settled in." You promise, and Rick nods.

"It can wait 'til tomorrow. I'll let the others know you're back in the meantime."

Rick spends the next few minutes filling you in on all that you'd missed while on your trip. You're thankful to hear that most of it was minor little things. At least you hadn't missed another damn war, or anyone you loved dying. That would have been a lot to bear.

As you get closer to Daryl's home, Rick seems to remember something, and hesitates.

"Forgot to mention...Daryl's out on a hunt." He admits, no doubt crushing your hopes of reuniting with your partner that day. "Not sure when he'll be back, honestly, but I reckon he wouldn't mind if you were to stay in his home now that you're back. As I recall, you practically lived there anyway before you left."

Your laugh away the slight embarrassment at his observation, and the amusement is quite evident in his face. "Yeah, I guess that's true..."

"He'll be happy to see you." Rick states simply, stopping just outside Daryl's home as you approach.

"I hope so." You say, sudden doubt creeping in. You grimace a little, stopping at the stoop of the porch. "We didn't exactly...part on great terms. At least...I think so."

Rick reaches out and pats your shoulder again. "I won't lie, he took it hard. But I'm sure he'll make his peace with it, now that you're back. Love has a way of helping you sort things out."

And with that, he gives your shoulder a squeeze, before leaving you at the door to Daryl's home.

Something compels you to just take it all in. It was just like you remembered it being. A lamp stood lit behind the curtains in the front window. Strange...why leave the lights on when he wasn't home?

Stepping inside is a surreal mix of second nature and unknown territory. Daryl hadn't really changed anything in the interior; the couch and side tables and other trinkets around his home were exactly where you'd remembered them to be. But the atmosphere felt so...different. A little hollow.

Were you even still welcome here? You hoped so...

You deposit your pack next to the side table in the hallway, your usual spot for stuff after a run. Old habits, you thought to yourself. You'd put it back where it really went later on, but for now it would do. Your shoes went along with it, bare feet feeling blissfully unburdened without them on. Socked feet pad slowly throughout his home.

It's all just as you remembered, and your clothes are even still in the drawers in the bedroom. You figure that's a good sign, and change into something much more comfortable after a long-desired shower. The water is blissful on your skin, washing away the dirt of your traveling.

As you dry yourself and dress, you can't help but bury your nose in one of Daryl's shirts, reveling in the scent of safety and comfort. And while you may be missing the man himself, for now this would tide you over enough until his return.

With no pressing matters, and no clue as to what to even do now that you'd come home, you decide that a nap was much-needed. It may only be the afternoon, but the miles behind you were starting to make themselves known, lulling your eyelids heavier with fatigue.

You crash on the couch in a heap, falling asleep easier than you had in months.

Daryl didn't understand the knowing smile that Rick had given him upon returning to Alexandria late that night. Not to mention it was strange that Rick chose such a late hour to take watch. Not thinking much of it, he entered the gates and drove towards his home.

The rumble of his bike faded as he shut the engine off, popping the kickstand and standing from the bike. After a long two days of hunting with nothing to show for it, he was happy at the prospect of a nice, long sleep.

The house was dark, save for the light still on in the window, but he paid it no mind, closing the door and shrugging off his pack. He passed by the hallway side-table, setting it beside the other that was sitting by-

His steps halted, eyes swinging down to rivet themselves on something that was so incredibly familiar and yet so out of place. At first, it hadn't even registered that something was amiss. The sight of a pack here was so ingrained, that nothing had jumped out at him. But now...

He hadn't left that there. He didn't even own a backpack like that. But he recognized it all the same. And beside it...

Shoes.

A noise further into the house caught his attention. The spill of lights from the kitchen told him someone was there. He'd been certain to turn off all the lights before he'd left for his hunt.

And while a tiny sliver of his brain thought to suspect something malicious was going on--visitors didn't typically stop by at 2 in the morning--the hope that soared in his chest overpowered it.

It felt like the air was yanked from out of his lungs as he stopped just outside the kitchen entryway. There you stood, swaying back and forth to whatever music you were listening to in your headphones, the makings of a sandwich out before you. You faced away from him, unaware of his presence.

Daryl let out a stuttered breath as he ran a hand down his face, a swirl of different emotions welling in his chest. He was...pissed, actually. You'd left him behind all those months ago, lied to him to do it. All of the old anger bubbled and surfaced at the sight of you. He was hurt, wondering how you could have gone through with going off on your own, leaving your fellow survivors in your rearview.

At some point, he'd thought long and hard about exactly what he was going to say to you, should he get the chance. He'd known precisely all the bitter and spited words he'd want to throw into your face, telling you exactly what you'd put him through all this time.

He couldn't recall a damn single word of it now.

And despite how the wound had been ripped open seeing you in the flesh after all this time, despite the anger that raged and threatened to speak the venom that had once consumed him...he was too relieved to see you alive, safe, and in one piece to bother channeling that anger.

At the end of the day, you'd still come back. You'd come home. To him.

Instead, just below the relief of your return, rising steadily and with such intensity he hadn't anticipated, was a desire he hadn't felt for so long. How many nights had he lay awake, recalling memories of the softness of your body, the touch of your fingers on his skin? And now that he had you here...

His feet carry him forward before he can really think about what he was doing.

It's the movement in your peripheral vision that makes you look sharply up at him, startled but the sudden presence of someone else. You hadn't anticipated being interrupted during your midnight snack.

But he's here. He's there, getting closer by the second. You yank your headphones out, holding out a hand. You probably should have rehearsed what you'd say to him beforehand, to try easing the hurt and betrayal he must feel.

"Daryl, I'm sorry...I-"

You can't manage anything after that, given his lips smash to yours in a bruising and long-overdue kiss. Shock sets in for a single second, a mumbled grunt swallowed by his mouth, but then leaning into his embrace as his arms wrap around you, pulling you in, was instinctive. You fall into that familiar, safe feeling, wondering if perhaps this was always how your eventual reunion would have turned out. Daryl was always a man of action rather than words, anyway. The time for apologies could come later.

You can hardly breathe, locked in his arms, at his mercy. He kisses you like he never thought he'd ever get to again. And maybe for the longest time, that's exactly what he'd thought. A pang of guilt stabs you through the heart, realizing the sort of pain you'd caused him by leaving, but Daryl doesn't give you the chance to dwell on it, teeth slowly dragging back along your bottom lip and pulling a whine from your throat.

And, god, how desperate you sounded...it made him groan. That sound haunted him for weeks on end. How could you so easily rile him up like this? You leave for months, and all it takes is a pretty little noise to get his blood boiling with need. Fuck if he wasn't just as desperate for you, too...

He couldn't stop himself. Like a recovering addict caving, going back to his fix, his hands touch you any place he can reach, rough palms smoothing over your curves. The clothes in the way is annoying, confining. Part of him wants to yank and tear them away from you, but another side wants to try calming himself down, taking this first time together again slow. It had been so long, he didn't want to fuck up the first chance he could.

Your mind is a hazy fog of sudden lust, so much so you barely register the way he's reached down to lift you by your thighs and wrap you around his waist. His strength has you dizzy, drunk off of his scent and his warmth and the way his fingers dug into the skin on the back of your thighs. It made you tighten your legs around his waist, the sensation of him walking you somewhere else secondary to the way you did what little you could to grind yourself against the crotch of his jeans.

You wouldn't have been able to answer if later asked how you managed to get to the bedroom so quickly. One second you'd been in the kitchen, and the next you were being slammed onto the comforter by your back, Daryl's large and corded frame practically smothering you in the best way.

Your head tilting back with a pleased sigh, Daryl takes the opportunity to latch onto the exposed skin of your neck, intent to leave a mark. The thought of something permanent on you, from him--a sign of some sort that he couldn't put into words at the moment--felt important. And by the way you were moaning as he gave the flesh a rough suck, you seemed to agree.

One hand trails under and up his shirt, taking advantage of the closeness to explore the body you'd gone so long without once more. The familiar texture of scars in all the places you remembered. Muscles like gentle ridges under your fingers. They trail along his nipples, stroking in appreciation and pulling a surprised grunt from him, before frustration kicks in and you hastily tug the shirt up so he could take it off.

It's discarded somewhere behind you, and thus begins the frantic undressing of each other, heavy, panting breaths making it clear just how much neither of you were able to slow down now that you'd started. There'd never been a greater need to eliminate all barriers between you than now. As soon as his jeans and underwear are low enough to expose his hard length, your hand takes hold of it, giving him several loving pumps.

His curse is stuttered, wavering. Barely more than a huff of air released as the tension between you grows steadily. Daryl wastes no time in reaching for your wet cunt, two fingers plunging in without preamble. Your back arches up, wanting more. A keening noise escapes you, and hearing it just spurs him to start a fast and demanding pace as he fucks you with them.

The wet sounds they produce are obscene, but your head is nearly bursting with how damn good it all feels. You're a moaning mess, trying desperately to keep up with your own ministration of his cock, wrists working back and forth a little faster. His hips thrust into your hand instinctively, seeking more friction, a faster pace, something more. And while you know Daryl typically tries to keep quiet in the midst of sex, he just can't help the groans this time around.

Maneuvering your leg around his waist, you draw his hips closer to where you need him, lifting your own to brush your wetness against his hardened shaft, tantalizing and teasing. The time for foreplay was over, at least in your mind. Heart pounding a painful beat in your chest, you can't imagine waiting any further to feel him fill you entirely.

Daryl's fingers retreat from your wetness, and although their absence makes you groan, the press of his tip is more than enough to sate your once more.

Strangely, he doesn't immediately thrust in, rather pulling his head back enough to just...look at you. You look back, silent. One hand, still wet from your own arousal, trails delicately over your nakedness, over the curve of your hips and the sides of your breasts, as if reassuring himself that you were real. Or perhaps taking the opportunity to relish in having you underneath him once more. The jarring contrast to the frantic pace you'd both just been exhibiting has you blinking, struck silent.

But the moment is over almost as soon as it began, cut short by the jerking of Daryl's hips, sheathing himself fully to the hilt in one smooth motion. A mixture between a gasp and a whimper is jolted from your throat, the pleasure catching you entirely off guard. You barely have time to wrap both legs around his waist before he's setting a steady pace, his own ragged breath exhaled onto your shoulder.

He fucked you rough, sparing no time in reminding you of just how much pleasure you'd missed out on all these months. The familiar yet forgotten sensation of his cock stroking your inner walls had you crying out, overwhelmed, wanting more. Your nails dig into his skin, scratching and clawing when the pain only spurns him on faster.

You're mesmerized by the flexing of the muscles in his arms, hands planted on either side of your head on the comforter, fisting the fabric between his fingers as he pistons his cock deep inside of you. And when your eyes follow the arms up and peer into his face, his expression is a mixture of frustration and adoration the likes of which you had fantasized about during your many lonely nights.

Anger flowed like water behind his eyes, recognizable even now, but it never lasted long. Always overshadowed by such relief, such love, that you began to wonder if you'd ever seen it at all. Talking would come later. Right now, you both just needed him to fuck you until you couldn't stand up.

You weren't destined to last long. The time away meant that your orgasm built up much quicker than you would have hoped or expected. It just felt too good, having him atop you, inside of you, surrounding you this way. All you could see and breathe was Daryl, and that alone had your legs tensing around his hips in unspoken warning of your impending orgasm. With a responding groan, he understands, putting further effort into the snap of his hips, plunging even deeper than before.

When you cum, it's like white-hot frost crackling over your senses. Inch by inch, you feel yourself shudder, letting the peak of your pleasure overtake you until you're seeing black dots at the edge of your vision. Your limbs lock around Daryl like a vice, making it more difficult for him to move as you ride along the bliss. He grunts, unable to do much more than rut against you, chasing his own release in any way he can.

As the most of the orgasm passes, Daryl shifts and uses his hands to pry your legs apart, keeping them wide as he frantically thrusts, ragged breathing giving away just how close he was. You're a twitching heap beneath him, letting him seek that edge with your body, accepting the overstimulation in stride. When it nearly proves too much to bear anymore, he's stuttering a moan and slowing his hips down remarkably, chest heaving when he finally meets you over that crest.

Lazy thrusts work the both of you through your climaxes, and the rough and unrelenting pace that had been there just moments before slowed to a much more relaxed one. As Daryl caught his breath, he lowered his mouth to your skin, shaking hands caressing the sweaty skin he could reach, peppering kisses on your stomach and sternum.

You lack the breath to speak, and simply let all of your inner feelings shine through the gentle gaze you give him, tentatively reaching a hand up to glide your fingers through his hair. He always used to love when you did that, and it seemed that was still the case. His eyes closed in content at your touch, and he lowers his head to rest upon your chest.

Eventually, after dozens of minutes simply laying there, basking in the aftermath of your reunion, you summon the forethought to recognize you should probably clean up after your passionate fuck. The heat was slowly dying away, the house's draft that never seemed to go away chilling the sweat upon your skin. However, when you try to move, Daryl makes an effort to put a stop to it, leaning more heavily into you.

"Not yet" He mumbles gravely, not opening his eyes. You huff a breath, the corner of your mouth lifting in amusement.

"Daryl, we're all sticky and sweaty."

"Just...stay here." He says, eyes finally cracking open to peer into your own. And try as you might, you're at the mercy of the heartbreakingly pained gaze he directs at you. The vulnerability. The hurt. Months of uncertainty and guilt and anger stirred up into that one look, pleading for you to understand that he just needs you here. Right here, and nowhere else.

The amusement shifts into something gentler, and you give an affirmative nod, trailing one finger down his cheek. "Ok."

#daryl dixon #daryl Dixon x reader #fem reader #the walking dead x reader #twd #the walking dead #scenario #daryl Dixon smut

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littlethingsinlife · 1 year

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i'm sorry (happier part 2)

A/N: I was not expecting the amount of positive feedback for the first part and I was even more surprised to see people asking for a part 2! It was originally created to be a one-shot but a part 2 really fit well with how the first one ended. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you again for all of the love and support! I hope you all enjoy. I also want to thank my friend, @tummymoth, they really helped me flush out and refine my rusty ass writing (also let me word vomit at them till midnight sometimes).

Pairing(s): Past Lo’ak x Omatikayan!Reader, Ao’nung x Omatikayan!Reader, Slight mentions of Lo’ak x Tsireya

Warnings: Lo'ak's POV, Swearing, Ao'nung saying something sus ONE time

More Info: My vision for this part 2 was to create a reply in Lo'ak's pov. So we'll have a look at what he experienced and thought process (not too sure if any of that made sense) but I was inspired by Joshua Bassett's song "i'm sorry" and it played constantly as I wrote this. Hopefully I was able to do right by my idea haha.

Summary: 7,547

Part 1: Happier

Key:

(Y/N) = Your Name

Lyrics = Bolded Italics

Flashbacks = Italics

Na'vi Words:

Yuey - beautiful (refers to a person)

Skxawng - idiot/moron

Marui - Pods where the Na’vi live

Ilu - sea creature similar to dolphins

Ikran - dragon-like creature

Tulkun - sentient creatures similar to whales

Olo’eyktan - clan leader/ chief

I thought about what I would say

But I’m two years too late

I can’t imagine how you’re doing these days, hmm

Sure, it wasn’t perfect back then

I’ll be first to admit

But it was better than being strangers again, oh

It had been a couple of months since my interactions with (Y/N) dwindled to terse smiles and barely audible greetings. If you asked me to point out the moment our friendship started to change, I couldn’t tell you. When did our bond start to break? When did it even start to crack? We used to talk every day about all the things we did and planned what pranks to pull on everyone, but now? Now, she barely looked in my direction. Now, she wouldn’t even give me the time of day.

I couldn’t remember when it started, but I knew that it was somehow my fault I grew distant once we arrived in Awa'atlu. I guess I was just so fascinated by the new environment and people, I didn’t even realize a rift started to form between us in the first place, much less that it started to grow.

The night before we left to find a new home, I held (Y/N) as she let out sobs filled with fear and anxiety. It broke my heart, but all I could do was hold her and let her cry until she was calm enough to tell me what was on her mind.

“I-I am afraid, what if the sky people come to find us again? I cannot lose any of you; it would break me into a million pieces,” she sobbed.

“If they find us then we will fight and we will win,” I reassured her, gently rocking her back and forth.

“You are an idiot, I was so close to losing you, to losing Kiri, Tuk, how do you think it would make me feel to lose the most important people in my life?” she sniffled. My chest ached at how broken she sounded, but the only thing I could do was assure her and offer her more words of comfort as I held her in my arms.

“I promise that I will be with you throughout the journey as will my family. We love you, and even if you do not believe it, you are a Sully. And you know what my dad always says.”

“Sullys stick together,” we chorused.

That night, I cradled her in my arms until she fell asleep.

Fuck, I completely broke my promise to her, how could I forget? Shaking my head, I tried to reason to myself, “Maybe she just needs time alone. I’m sure she’ll come running back soon once she realizes that it's no fun without me, her best friend.” I felt a small, unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Right?”

I’m drunk too late talking to the moon

Writing songs I can’t sing to you, ‘cause

“Bah! Stop lying, I know you (Y/N). You would have fought alongside me and defended Kiri. You are not the same girl I knew in the forest back home,” I muttered, rolling my eyes and getting up to leave. Honestly, who did she think she was fooling? The skxawng had the balls to insult Kiri, and all she did was sit back and watch. She didn’t even make a move to help until it was to help him by pulling me off. “Talk to me when you’ve come back to your senses,” I called over my shoulder, refusing to look back.

“Lo’ak! Bro—” a hand roughly grabbed my shoulder, jolting me out of my daze, “why’re you just staring off like that?” I whipped my head to see who the hell it was that was bothering me, only to be met with Neteyam.

“Did you have to grab me that hard?” I hissed before my initial anger gave way to a heavy feeling. “It's nothing, just—just lost in thought” I sighed, shrugging his hand off my shoulder.

“Right, sure, nothing.” he crouched down beside me. “Don’t think you can lie to me lil bro, you’ve been spacing out more than you usually do. I didn’t even think it was possible to be more empty-headed than you already are,” he stated.

“Wha—no I haven’t,” I tried to argue, but of course, he wasn’t convinced.

“Can you stop arguing with me for once and just tell me what’s going on with you, you skxawng?”

I scrunched my nose in distaste and inhaled sharply, “(Y/N) and I have been… distant,” I admitted, turning to look at him. “She won’t even look at me. She either only answers me with one word or doesn’t answer at all.”

He nodded, motioning for me to continue.

“I—the last time we talked, I said things I didn’t mean. Things that just came out because I was so frustrated and… and angry. It was the heat of the moment and I—”

“What did you say skxawng, did you hurt her?” Neteyam interrupted, face twisting to show the beginnings of distaste.

“No, no—” I sputtered and raised my hands to calm him before he could go on an hour-long lecture that I absolutely was not in the mood to hear. “At least I don’t think I did… I just wanted to ask her why the hell she was helping fish lips, that’s all—”

“You didn’t answer me Lo’ak, what did you say to (Y/N)? I don’t care why you did it, I want to know what you said to elicit such a reaction from her.” By Eywa, if he would just give me a chance to get to the point—

“I—I told her that she was not the same girl that I knew back in the forest..." my ears lowered as the weight of what I said slowly sunk in. “And that she could talk to me once she came back to her senses,” I whispered, internally cringing at my harsh words..

“You fucking skxawng—”

“Can you stop calling me that? I already know, you don’t need to keep repeating it…” I scoffed, looking out into the ocean. I’m good enough at beating myself up over the hundreds of times I’ve messed up in this lifetime, I didn’t need another disappointed set of eyes on me.

My ears twitched at the deep sigh he let out. “Look, I’m sorry that I keep calling you skxawng but that is exactly what you are for saying something so hurtful to your best friend of all people. The two of you were inseparable the moment you were born. Even if you don’t want to, suck up your dumbass pride,” my ears flattened again. It wasn’t pride, I’m not prideful. It—it was me needing (Y/N) on my side. We used to always be on the same page, and when she said I was wrong for wanting to defend Kiri against those assholes, it felt like she was siding with them instead of me, and—

Okay, so maybe it was pride.

“Admit that you were wrong, and go talk to (Y/N),” Neteyam insisted as he put a reassuring arm around my shoulders, jostling me around to prove a point. “Your friendship is so much stronger and Eywa knows that a heat-of-the-moment argument isn’t going to break that. You should have more faith in her.” His gaze sharpened before he schooled his expression into something calmer. “Just talk to her, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” I mumbled, swallowing down whatever argument was trying to bubble up from my throat and prying his arm off me. “You’re right. I’ll just clear things up with her and apologize. Everything will go back to normal after that, thanks bro—for listening,” I agreed.

Ever since that day

The things I didn’t say They haunt me, oh

And I know that I’m to blame

So, go ahead and

Blame it on me, oh

Our lessons on the ways of the Metkayina were finished, so it was rare for the entire group to be in the same place. But every once in a while, we all finished our chores at the same time and found ourselves near the shore where we first learned to ride the ilu, and sat around a fire hours before eclipse, laughing and exchanging stories.

The rarity of these moments made me cherish them that much more, but two people continued to miss our not-so-scheduled gatherings the past two moon cycles. How was it possible that they were the only two to keep missing our hangouts? Were they together? Fish lips had better not be doing anything to (Y/N) or so hel—

“(Y/N)! Ao’nung! You guys made it!” Rotxo laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, quit shouting will you?” Ao’nung shot back as he sat down next to Rotxo, (Y/N) smiling softly as she followed.

“So, what’ve you guys been up to? We haven’t seen you in what feels like ten moon cycles.” Neteyam questioned.

“Teyam, you saw me earlier today, you literally helped me feed our ikran,” (Y/N) joked. ‘Teyam? When did she start calling him by anything other than his given name?

Ao’nung swatted her side with his stupidly wide tail and swung an arm around her shoulder with a remarkably punchable smile on his face “More like he was trying to make sure you didn’t accidentally give them your fingers for breakfast. They would’ve gotten indigestion.”

“Haha very funny Ao’nung,” she drawled, “I would’ve fed you to Tekay instead, but she would’ve gagged the moment she caught a whiff of you,” she scoffed as she quickly pushed him away by the chest.

“Wait… Do they even have a gag reflex?” Fish lips didn’t budge, he just had a dumb look of confusion on his face.

“No, but they would defy the laws of biology to gag just for you,” she quipped, sticking out her tongue and moving to push him away again, but the skxawng had the nerve to pull her into a headlock.

“Oh, yuey, the ikran won’t be the only ones gagging on me tonight,” he argued with a smirk.

Did I want to punch that smirk off his face? Did I want to gag? Both? Before I could make a decision, (Y/N) grimaced, pushing him away again and smacking him upside the head.

“That’s actually repulsive. You’re disgusting.”

“Dude, keep it in your pants, her family is right there,” Rotxo laughed, doubled over as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Yeah, we’re right here,” I interjected with a smile—wanting to join in on the jokes that were being thrown around—but it was hard to keep my face from falling when I saw (Y/N)’s bright expression falter.

“Anyway, what were you guys talking about before Ao’nung and I arrived?” she asked in a too-bright tone of voice she only used when she desperately wanted to change the subject. As if everyone came to an unspoken agreement to forget about the conversation before, one by one they all started talking about who they thought would win in a fight—Toruk Makto, or our Olo’eyktan, Tonowari.

The sound of laughter and excited chatter faded as I replayed the previous conversation in my head. When did they start joking around like that? Why the hell did fish lips call her yuey like it was the most natural thing in the world? How come she smiled so easily with him but faltered when she sees me? She was probably smiling with him right now—

I looked over at her, a pit in my stomach already forming at the idea of her smiling at him, but she looked so distant, so withdrawn from everything around her. Before I could even blink, she put a delicate hand on Ao’nung’s arm to grab his attention and mumbled something in a hushed tone. After a few beats of silent conversation, Ao’nung nodded and gave her a look of understanding.

Why did he look at her like that? How much time did they spend together to be able to understand each other with just a look? How much time have I wasted breaking my promise to her while she grew closer to someone else?

Standing up, I made up my mind that I would talk to her and clear up any miscommunication. There was no way in hell I was about to let fish lips ruin our childhood friendship. Before I could even get close, Neteyam pulled me aside.

“Bro, why’re you glaring at everyone?” he asked with concern written all over his face.

“Glaring?” I tilted my head in confusion. “I’m not glaring, this is just my face.”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I’m your brother, I know your face. Whatever look you’ve been throwing at Ao’nung and (Y/N)? You may as well have been throwing knives at them.”

Behind Neteyam, I could see (Y/N) get up to bid everyone good night and slowly walk in our direction. This was my chance, I just needed this overbearing idiot to leave me alone.

“Whatever look you think I’m giving to them, you’re wrong,” I denied. “Can you not act like this right now?” My tail flicked side to side impatiently, an obvious twinge of annoyance clear in my tone. I licked my lips nervously as I could hear footsteps coming closer. Leaning slightly to the side, I looked behind Neteyam to see (Y/N) and—

Ao’nung? What? Why is he there?

“Good night,” (Y/N) muttered, not sparing us a glance as she walked past. I followed her every move and—as if everything slowed down—my eyes narrowed as they found Ao’nung’s hand placed on her lower back, leading her gently in the direction of the marui.

I know that I’m too late

But I’ll say it anyway

I’m sorry

Though it's far too late

“I did it! Did you see that Reya?” I shouted—out of breath—as I showed off the shell Tsireya threw.

“Yes, yes you did it!” She exclaimed, excitedly wrapping her hand around mine. For someone who spent so much time underwater, her hand radiated so much warmth. So easy to hold. My heart swelled with pride as she continued to compliment me. “You’ve improved so much!”

“Yeah? Well, I had a great teacher,” I joked, nudging her softly with my shoulder. It wasn’t just her hands that were warm either, she just seemed to radiate it.

“Oh stop, you flatter me too much,” she denied, fidgeting with her hair. Was that a blush on her face? “C’mon, why don’t we catch up with the others? Private lessons are officially done for the day,” she announced as she led me to shore. Oh Eywa, she looked so pretty like this, with her hair flowing down her back and the way her eyes cast down when she became flustered. And her smile, it was a smile that could knock the air out of my lungs.

While we walked onto shore, we joked around and laughed with each other, talking about anything and everything. The ease of each reply and joke came as smoothly as gliding through the water on an ilu—as easy as breathing. Laughing at another one of Tsireya’s jokes, my eyes scanned the village as we approached it. Families were winding down for the day as they cooked dinner, although I didn’t see mine anywhere nearby aside from Kiri.

My smile slowly dropped when I was able to make out Kiri looking frantically around as if she was searching for someone. Tsireya and I made our way to her, worry filling the pit in my stomach. As we got closer, I could see Ao’nung climb down one of the roots of the Mangrove trees and make a beeline toward her. My eyes stayed on both of them, making sure that fish lips didn’t do anything to Kiri.

Ears twitching I was able to make out the words, “(Y/N)? Did you find her? ” from Kiri as they were carried on the wind toward us.

“Yeah I did, I was able to get her to eat, but she’s not looking too good,” Ao’nung replied with concern lacing his voice.

Brows furrowing, I pulled Ao’nung by the shoulder. “What do you mean she’s not looking good? Where is she? What did you do?”

“What the hell do you mean? I didn’t do shit, freak.” I rolled my eyes at the insult. He couldn’t use that thick head of his to think of anything else to call me? From the pained look on his face, I could tell that my grip on his shoulder had too much pressure. Good. Served him right.

Before Ao’nung and I could continue our argument Kiri groaned, “Will the both of you skxawng shut up! I’ll go talk to her.” My eyes followed her retreating form as she went to talk to (Y/N)—tail lashing back and forth in agitation all the while—before turning back to Ao’nung.

Who the hell did he think he was? I’d beat his skxawng ass if he hurt (Y/N) in any way. He had no right to look so damn worried. They weren’t even close. What even happened? How long had she been missing for Kiri to go to fish lips of all people for help? Should I follow Kiri? Why didn’t (Y/N) come to me? She always came to me, and if she came to me now, I absolutely would have listened. Why—

“Lo’ak? Hey, are you okay? Lo’ak?” a hand softly placed itself on my arm. Closing my eyes in frustration, I sighed.

“Yeah, perfectly fine.”

Damn it, was that when it started? How idiotic and blind have I been that I didn’t even notice that her trust in me started to slip and die when it was right in front of me? Why didn’t I go to her and make sure she was okay? I should’ve punched that idiot’s lights out—

“Ao’nung! Stop pulling me you skxawng, you’re walking too fast, slow down!” a hushed voice chastised.

“C’mon yuey, we only have about an hour before eclipse, we have to hurry!” His voice grated against my ears as he responded.

“That’s plenty of time!” (Y/N) insisted. I could hear the laughter bubbling up in her voice as she chased after him. “Please Ao’nung slow down, I can’t keep up.”

“It can’t be helped, you’re so short—” a whack could be heard. “Ow!”

“I’m as tall as Tsireya, you giant!”

“Both you and my sister are short—Ow! Alright, just because you did that, you leave me no choice,” Ao’nung said, throwing (Y/N) over his shoulder with a laugh.

The bickering voices got closer, and my eyes narrowed at the way he held her. My breath hitched as he whispered something in her ear that made her ears perk up and her eyes widen. What the hell was he saying to her? Before I could spring up from my spot, Ao’nung tossed (Y/N) in the water, her yelp quickly interrupted by the sound of her body hitting the water.

I stayed in my spot as shock zipped through my body. Letting out a breath I didn’t know I held, her head popped out of the water, a playful glare on her face.

“I told you, you left me no choice,” he stated, guffawing at her expression.

“Oh yeah?” she groused, spitting out seawater as she wrung out her hair. “Well fuck you too. Help me out of here?”

“Only if you say the magic word,” he taunted, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Otherwise, I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

“Please, oh great son of our Olo’eyktan, help me out of the ocean,” she beckoned dramatically, sarcasm dripping from every word while she rolled her eyes. “It’s about time you recognized my proud lineage, forest dweller,” he said as his chest puffed out with a hand reaching towards (Y/N). And there was that stupid smile on his face.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a mischievous smile spreading across her face as she reached for his hand, making sure to tug with enough force to unceremoniously yank him into the water.

“So much for the son of a great warrior! Your instincts are shit!”

“My instincts are dull you say?” he questioned as his head popped up next to her. “We’ll see about that!”

“Wha—AHHH—'' she wheezed. “No, please Ao’nung stop! That tickles!” Her arms flailed wildly in an attempt to free herself from his grasp.

What the fuck.

My ears flattened at an angle as I tried to process the scene unfolding before me. When did she start laughing with him? That should’ve been me she was laughing with. Not him, not the skxawng who had been nothing but rude to us since we arrived. What… what was I even saying—Fuck I didn’t know anymore. Why did I feel like this every time I saw them together… laughing and making jokes like we used to?

And it was me, it wasn’t you

It’s cliche, but it’s true

I wasn’t thinking how I usually do, oh

And is your momma doing well?

Or does she still hate me?

But it was hard to watch me put you through hell

I’m drunk, too late, talking to the moon, ooh

Writing songs I can’t sing to you, ‘cause

Two weeks had passed since I started noticing the changes in (Y/N)’s relationship—friendship?—with Ao’nung. It was like every time I blinked, I could see her laughing loudly as Ao’nung tickled her with a triumphant smile on his stupid face. Since that day, I had been trying to find a way to talk to (Y/N), but she was never alone. She was always with him and when she wasn’t, she disappeared and I couldn’t find her no matter how hard I looked.

Now here I was, wandering around trying to look for her as I rehearsed what I wanted to tell her.

Where could she be? Dinner was in an hour and she wasn’t anywhere near our marui. I had to find her soon so there would be enough time for us to talk. I had to tell her that I miss her, that I was sorry for being so dumb, that I shouldn’t have let my pride blind me, and that I didn’t mean any of the things I said.

There was only one place I hadn’t looked yet… hopefully she was there.

As I was getting closer to the root Kiri stalked to, I could see two silhouettes beside each other. An all-too-familiar feeling bloomed in my chest once I registered that she was there with him.

Her melodic laughter made my steps falter. I clenched my fists tightly, contemplating if I should go over there and pull her away, force her to talk to me, to listen. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do that to her, not when she looked so content, so happy.

Ever since that day

The things I didn’t say

They haunt me, oh

I know that I’m to blame

So, go ahead and

Blame it on me, oh

“Lo’ak? You said you were going to look for (Y/N) and never came back. She’s already in the marui helping mom cook,” Kiri stated, a twinge of annoyance lacing her voice. “Hey, are you listening?” She shook my arm slightly, making me jump out of my stupor.

“Yeah, sorry, you said dinner was ready?” I asked as I stared off.

The sand beside me crunched softly as Kiri made a move to sit beside me. “No, I said that (Y/N) is with mom helping her cook. Where is your head at?” she asked as she tilted her head to try and meet my gaze. “Are you alright?” The annoyance in her voice shifted to concern.

“I’m fine, yep—just… fine,” I brushed her off, hoisting myself up to head towards Mom and Dad for dinner before Kiri yanked me back down.

“Lo’ak, don’t pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Tell me what’s going on,” she urged. “Maybe I can help you with whatever it is that’s occupied your mind lately.”

I inhaled sharply, debating if I should tell her what had been muddying my mind, the reason why I had been so spaced out, why I had been glaring daggers at fish lips each time I saw his stupid face next to (Y/N)—how confused I was.

“Stop with the thinking skxawng, you might hurt yourself,” she admonished. “Just tell me. It’s not like I can’t handle it.”

Huffing, I rolled my eyes and turned away from her to look at the sea. I hadn't even said anything yet and Kiri was already making me feel idiotic. How was I supposed to tell her what's been going on like this? Maybe if I kept quiet for long enough, she would get tired of waiting for me to start talking and go on to eat dinner without me.

A couple of minutes of silence passed.

I could still feel her staring at me.

“I’ve—I’ve been conflicted,” I started, tongue feeling heavy in my mouth as I continued to stare at the shoreline. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“What do you mean?” Kiri nudged my shoulder with hers. “Elaborate a little more, I can’t help if you don’t tell me the reason why you’re feeling confused.”

“...Whenever I see (Y/N) with Ao’nung, it’s as if I can feel my heart aching,” I said, motioning toward my chest to prove my point. “There’s always a… a surge of anger that rushes through me. All I want to do is pull her away from him so then everything can go back to the way things used to be—for us to be okay.”

“Lo’ak…” If I was looking at her, I’d probably see Kiri tilt her head with sympathy. But sympathy isn’t what I needed right now.

“I want her to look at me and smile, to laugh with me, hug me—but now, whenever I get close to her, she’s next to him, laughing with him, cracking the jokes we would make to each other… I just—” I rubbed at my face in frustration. It wasn’t as if the words were hard to come by—I had spent so much time bottling them up that it was hard to stop talking. No, I just hated the fact that I felt this way in the first place. “I don’t understand why seeing them makes me feel like my heart is about to explode—why it makes me want to scream. It hurts.”

“Lo’ak” she put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you—are you in love with (Y/N)?”

Love?

I sputtered in surprise and whipped my head toward Kiri to see if she was joking or not. What kind of a sick question was that? I wasn’t in the mood for any games.

“What? No, she’s like my… sister?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “If you’re not, then why does seeing her with Ao’nung hurt you so much? Why do you care as much as you do?”

“I shouldn’t!” I wrenched my shoulder away from her hand and stood up. The need to move around and do something—anything—was too much. There was too much energy thrumming right beneath my skin to sit still anymore.

“That’s the problem! After everything I said to her, done to her? I don’t have the right to say I’m in love with her. She’s my childhood friend, Kiri. That’s all our relationship has ever been… I just—” I paused in thought and tried to calm down. “I didn’t realize seeing her have so much fun with someone else would make me feel so, so hollow—”

“Let me ask you something, you have to promise to be completely honest with me, okay?”

I nodded, not even looking in her direction.

“When (Y/N) tried to pull you off from Ao’nung that one fight months ago, what did you feel? Angry? Betrayed? Jealous?”

Jealous? Did she really think I was sulking for months because of such a petty feeling? I’m not a jealous person. I never have been.

“Seeing her jump in to get me off him made me feel like she was siding with him and telling me that I was wrong. Her actions were clear as day to me, Kiri.” I started to pace around. “She was protecting him—caring for him when she should’ve been next to me, helping and supporting me. When she did that—I felt like the only person that’s ever been on my side—” I croaked and turned my head to look at Kiri as tears stung my eyes “The only person who didn’t see everything I did as some sort of disappointment or failure, abandoned me and chose someone else.”

“...”

“I know that I could’ve approached her a different way but how could I when I felt so broken?” I inhaled sharply, eyebrows furrowed. “ It’s all fish lips’ fault. If he wasn’t such an asshole, none of this would have happened, and (Y/N) and I would still be the same, she would still be by my side—supporting me, loving me.”

“Why do you keep blaming it on Ao’nung?”

“Because it is his fault that things have turned out the way it has.” I threw my hands up, exasperated. What wasn’t Kiri getting? “He’s getting in between my relationship—er—friendship with (Y/N)! If he wasn’t there I would be able to talk to her and tell her I’m sorry, but she’s always with him—”

“Stop! Are you hearing yourself?” She nudged at my foot to interrupt and scoffed. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? (Y/N) told me what you said to her, how ‘she wasn’t the same girl’ you knew back in the forest. Do you know what happened when you told her that? Do you know how much pain she was in?”

Pain? I snorted, turning towards Kiri. “Now I know what you’re saying is bullshit. You know how (Y/N) is—if she really was pissed at me she would’ve come to me instead of running to someone else.”

“She wasn’t pissed. She cried because of you, Lo’ak. Because of what you said.” I stopped dead in my tracks to look at her. Kiri's eyes didn’t waver. Another heavy feeling settled on my chest and clawed its way up my throat. If you had asked me what it was, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Was I sad? Guilty? Angry? Was I jealous like she said?

I settled on anger.

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying—”

“The person that found her that night, the one who comforted her? That was Ao’nung. He held her in his arms as she sobbed when I found them.” She stood up too, forcing me to stop pacing.

“The last thing I want to hear about right now is him, Kiri. What the fuck—”

“Did you ever think about why she’s so comfortable with him now? Why they’re so close? While you ignored her for weeks, he made sure she was okay—made sure she ate every day. He didn’t leave her side until she finished,” Kiri pointed out, and before I could even think to open my mouth to remind her how shitty he was to her especially, she cut me off. “Yes, he was an asshole at the beginning, and yes he has a screwed-up way to show he cares, but he stepped up when you fucked up.” She poked my chest with a glare before she continued.

“Oh, so I’m a fuck-up now?” I asked wryly.

“You can’t put all the blame on someone that took care of your best friend. Stop being so blinded by your pride and hatred and see that you’re the real reason why your relationship with (Y/N) isn’t the same as it used to be.”

My heart sank a little more as I scrambled for something to say. “How could you say that—”

“No, you do not get to interrupt me right now, Lo’ak.” Her eyes flashed with something closer to anger than annoyance. When was the last time I saw her angry? “Listen and listen well. When we couldn’t find (Y/N) and we were looking for her everywhere—he was the one that found her spot, the one she isolated herself to so she could cry alone, and no one would see how much pain she was in. And what were you doing in the meantime?”

My ears flattened at her rising tone, and I was finally beginning to understand the weight stuck in my throat and chest. Not anger, not even jealousy.

“You were out there with Tsireya, stuck in your own little world.”

It was my fault.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy that you found her but you can’t have both of them. You can’t be that selfish. From (Y/N)’s perspective, you’ve already chosen the one you want.”

“It’s not like I’ve actually chosen anyone yet,” I tried to interject, but all the fight had left my voice as Kiri’s words dug into my skin and sunk in.

“Don’t you dare play with either of their feelings. (Y/N) held so much love for you in her heart, she allowed herself to break to the point of no repair because she didn’t want to show you how much it hurt her to see you at your happiest with Tsireya.” She paused before continuing, her voice losing its edge. “Let her move on, brother. And if it’s Ao’nung that makes her light up the way she used to, then you suck it up and let him. He was there when your pride wouldn’t even let you apologize or even look in her direction. Actually think about how she feels for once.”

I hated the fact that there wasn’t anything I could say to prove her wrong.

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about nowadays,” I muttered.

I know that I’m too late

But I’ll say it anyway

I’m sorry

I’m sorry, hmm

I’m sorry

Though it’s far too late

“I thought I was already doing that,” a faint voice huffed in annoyance. Turning the corner, I saw Ao’nung and (Y/N) standing on the beach together— far too close for my liking.

“You were, but you got sloppy. Here, you have to move your hips like this,” he said as he corrected her posture. My ears flattened against my head as he put a hand on her hip and gently directed her movement.

Why did he look so gentle with her?

“Ao’nung,” (Y/N)’s voice rang out, clear as crystal despite her uncertain tone. “Are you sure you should be teaching me this? This is a traditional Metkayina dance, right? I’m…” she hesitated, her voice becoming smaller. “I’m not Metkayina—”

“Yet.” He interrupted, holding her face in his hands. “You are not Metkayina yet. Once you become one of us, you will have to learn the dance to celebrate the return of our spirit brothers and sisters, so why not learn that now?” I hated how reassuring his voice was. The thought of how either of their eyes looked as they held contact made my stomach turn.

“Yeah… you’re right,” she mumbled with an unsure look on her face.

“Woah, hey pretty girl, look at me,” he insisted, laying his hands on her shoulders and bending his neck so they were at eye level. “I’m serious when I say you will become Metkayina one day, so don’t worry yourself over it right now. Okay?” Ao’nung tilted his head to the side, an unbelievably soft expression on his face. “You have me here to help you.”

“Alright…” (Y/N) mumbled, not convinced.

“If you don’t get rid of that look on your face I’ll throw you into the water,” he said as his face shifted from sincerity to something mischievous. “Or worse… I’ll tickle you,” he threatened.

“You better not Ao’nung, or I swear to the Great Mother herself I will hu—AHH—get away, you skxawng!'' She laughed as she tried to run away, but Ao’nung grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her into his arms. And despite her words of protest, it was clear as day that she was leaning into him while they scuffled on the sand.

“No!” she shrieked with glee. “You can’t make me go in there again!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, forest dweller!”

A thought occurred. Should I go up to them? We never got the chance to talk, after all. I took a few steps in their direction before freezing. When was the last time I heard her laugh like that? She had the biggest smile on her face, and the one who made that happen wasn’t me—it was him.

And if you ever hear this

I hope you know that

I’m not proud of who I’ve been, ooh

And if I see you again

I hope you know that

I wish you nothing but the best

And my biggest regret

The afternoon was quiet, relative silence only interrupted by the crashing of waves. Without much to do, I just sat in our marui and lazed around with Tuk until a horn blew.

“The tulkun have returned! Everybody—our brothers and sisters have returned!” Tsireya’s voice rang out, and when I poked my head out to see what the fuss was about, I saw the megawatt smile on her face, as she swam by on her ilu.

The village came to life as everyone mounted either ilu or canoe to make their way to the tulkun. From here, I could see little more than a large group of dark shapes making their way through the water. Payakan himself was dauntingly huge, but to see a whole pod of them show up like this? It was spectacular. I watched the commotion unfold from one of the walkways, lost in thought before I felt water splashing at my feet.

“Come on Lo’ak! Don’t just stand there, let’s go see the tulkun together!” Tsireya urged, still smiling. Shaken out of my stupor, I grinned widely—diving into the water and clambering onto her ilu. lu may be lithe animals, but I could still feel sinuous muscle under velvety skin as it made adjustments in the water to keep balance.

“I’ll come, but only if you’re offering a ride,” I joked, gently holding her waist and playfully leaning onto her. The cool water around us made her skin feel that much warmer. It was nice.

Before I could see her reaction—I would’ve bet anything at that moment that her cheeks had become flushed—we began to quickly make our way toward the rest of the clan and the giant tulkun.

The air around me vibrated with the excitement and happiness of loved ones returning, and Tsireya was no exception—the speed of the ilu gave away her eagerness to be with her spirit sister. As we leaped into and out of the water, Tsireya’s laughter was carried by the wind and reached my ears. That, and the answering whoops and bellows of Metkayina and tulkun alike, was almost contagious enough to get carried away by the energy surrounding us.

“My spirit sister is down there,” she said as she dismounted, sliding off her ilu and into the water. “Wait here, yeah?” she smiled at me before diving down.

I was more than happy to watch the Na’vi around me. Looking around, I was in awe of the sheer amount of tulkun gathered in one area, and how each Metkayina was able to identify their spirit sisters or brothers so easily. Looking down into the shifting waters, I saw Tsireya catching up with her spirit sister, waving her hands around and swimming through the water alongside her.

All around, I could hear people telling stories and the deep, booming calls of the tulkun as they responded with tales of their own. New parents were showing their babies and calves, and as my eyes scanned the horizon, I could see small children holding onto the tulkun’s fins as they were lifted to the glittering ocean surface.

Not too far away, I heard the sound of a body hitting the water and the sound of grating, but familiar laughter along with an indignant (Y/N) sputtering.

“Ao’nung, what the fu—”

“Hey, hey, relax! It’s just some water. There are children here, yuey,” Ao’nung chided with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“The parents of those children are going to have to explain what it means to return to Eywa once I’m through with you,” she retorted, treading water and becoming even more unamused when he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Woah there pretty girl, you’re talking to the son of the mightiest warrior in all of Pandora—”

“That’s funny, I don’t see Neteyam here,” she interjected, pretending to search the waters around them before turning back to Ao’nung and tilting her head, “do you?”

“Just because you said that you can have fun finding your own way back to shore,” he said as he turned his ilu around.

“Oh, c’mon Ao’nung, don’t be like that,” she rolled her eyes and reached a hand towards him. “You’d really leave me here to fend for myself?”

He turned and wagged a disapproving finger at her, “I’ll consider forgiving you if you say word-for-word that I’m the son of the mightiest warrior in all of Pandora. I can’t have you slandering my father’s name, yuey.” She groaned and leaned back into the water.

“You couldn’t pay me enough to say that load of bull—”

“Nope!” he didn’t give her a chance to defile the ears of any nearby children and crossed his arms. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“...”

“I’m still waiting.”

With a sardonic smile, she finally caved. “Why don’t I do you one better? You’re the mightiest warrior to exist since the time of the First Songs,” she declared, sarcasm dripping from every word as she slapped at the water for emphasis.

“That’s what I thought, was that so hard?” Even if I wasn’t able to see them, I still would have been able to hear the stupidly wide smile that made its way across his face.

“Don’t be such a big baby and let me meet your spirit brother!”

“Just because he’s here to visit today, I’ll let that one slide for now.” Ao’nung rolled his eyes, dismounting his ilu to join (Y/N). “Now hold on tight and hold your breath like how we practiced.”

We? Who the fuck was we? Why was he allowing her to meet his spirit brother? Why were they looking at each other like that?

I watched both of their silhouettes submerge and breathed deeply, forcing my thundering heart to calm as I slowly sank my head into the water. At first, all I could see were blobs floating around in the water, but once my eyes adjusted, I could see the fluid movement of Ao’nung talking to his spirit brother. Eyebrows furrowing, I swam a little closer and hoped that I would be able to see what was being signed. With each movement made, it was clear that Ao’nung was translating the clicks and bellows of the tulkun to (Y/N), and whatever was being said made her smile widen by the second.

I couldn’t watch anymore as my chest burned from the lack of air and I resurfaced to catch my breath. For once, I was thankful for the lack of lung capacity I had. I climbed back onto Tsireya’s ilu. Seeing as she wasn’t back yet, I sat back and leaned on its neck to face the sky.

Did she always glow like that when she smiled? Whenever she was with him—she always looked so happy, so vibrant. Would she have looked like that with me by her side if I didn’t push her away? If I was there for her like I had promised? I wanted to tell her sorry—that I was sorry for taking our friendship for granted, for making her go through it alone. I wish that it didn’t take seeing her smile and laugh with someone else to make me realize how I felt.

I willed my tears to go away.

Is this how she felt? Seeing me with Tsireya? Great Mother… I was truly horrible, wasn’t I? I wished things turned out differently. Maybe in another universe, I did talk to her—realized sooner, made her happier—but now? Right now, my heart was torn in two, watching as someone else picked up the pieces of the heart I crushed. No amount of words could fix what we used to have, and even though I wanted to whisk her away, tell her I love her—that I see her—that seeing her with him made my skin crawl, I knew I couldn’t. I was no longer worthy to be part of her life, because of me and my actions alone.

I had become nothing but a stranger.

Ever since that day

The things I didn’t say

They haunt me

I know that I’m to blame

So go ahead and

Blame it on me, ooh

I know that I’m too late

But I’ll say it anyway

I’m sorry

Hmm, I’m sorry

Oh-oh-oh-oh, I’m sorry

Taglist: @midnightliacr @immortalbloodhuntress @arminsfloll @whenercolorfulrainbowlol @dakotali @lexilander27 @zatarias-pandora @vanillawhale @kazupop @owaowaowawa @sopiasleeps @siabhshjsjsjsjshznzn @jimfiqs @ihave500hubbiez

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arvensimp · 10 months

Text

your father should know, pt. 3

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x fem!reader, nsfw content (in pt. 1), pregnancy (pts. 1, 2, & 2.5), angst, and stupid miscommunications

[part 1][part 2][part 2.5]

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY I'M BACK. pls be aware that this got WAY too long so it's gonna have to be another part or two before we actually get to the happy ending that i promised. yes this will still have a happy ending. i won't hurt arven or the baby like this lolol. the skeleton for the rest of the fic is already written, i just need to flesh it out, given it some muscle, organs, and maybe cute accessories.

ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS PART. please thank my mega awesome beta Katie for her help with this too. she's my rock.

---

The ceiling rattles.

"So. How'd you get here today?"

"I, uh... I took my cyclizar?"

Rika nods and takes note of the answer. The not-so-distant sound of muffled battling can be heard through the thick walls of the League building.

"What brings you to the Pokemon League today?" Rika goes on as if nothing is happening.

"Badda!" The little one sitting on her lap shouts. Rika pats his head without looking away from the student in front of her. "Shh. Let her answer my questions first."

Basil babbles a bit in response, some of his words making sense.

"To...become a champion?" The student replies.

"Good, good..." Rika continues on with the rest of the interview, asking different questions and going back and forth with the kid in front of her.

"Okay," She says later, now addressing Basil. "Now you can ask her a question."

"What?" The student asks.

"Not you." Rika corrects tersely. "Go on, Munchkin. Ask the champ-in-the-making whatever you want."

"Um... " Basil seems to think for a moment, but then he gets shy and hides his face against Rika's torso.

The student blanches. "I... I-I'm sorry? Did I do something wrong?"

"Pssh, nah. He just gets timid sometimes is all. But let's see..." Rika leans into Basil and speaks soft and sweet to him. "Whaddya think, Munchkin?" She gives his tummy a bit of a tickle, making him laugh and open up a bit. "Does this kid pass our test?" Rika keeps tickling him as he shrieks with laughter.

"Uh....Is...is that a yes?" The student eventually asks.

Rika pauses, then stands with all the pomp and importance of one in her station, propping the baby up in her arms.

"Yeah, I'd say so." She announces casually, in stark contrast to the serious air she feigned just a moment ago. "Congrats, Kid. You've passed your first test." She holds out a hand to shake and makes sure that Basil also gets to shake too.

Never too soon to start teaching the ins and outs of professionalism or whatever.

"Before you move on to the next step, you'll just need to wait a few minutes for his mama to finish her battle with one of your peers. Once she has him back, I can start your battle test. Sound good?"

The student nods, and sure enough within a few minutes, you arrive through the elevator and greet the room cheerily.

"We've got quite a few challengers today, it seems!" You announce as you take Basil from Rika. The boy had been making grabby hands for you the moment the elevator doors had opened, speaking in broken little syllables of his desire to be in your arms again.

You boop his little nose and smoosh your mouth to his pudgy cheeks in a kiss. "I wasn't gone that long, Sweet Boy!" You tell him. "Were you good for Auntie Rika?"

You look to the woman in question for her assessment.

"He did great. He's getting a real knack for these interviews, I tell you what. Asks some pretty insightful questions, right, Kid?" She says jokingly, turning to the student.

"What?" The kid looks between the three of you. "Oh! Um. ...What? Is this another test?"

Rika laughs. "Everything here is a test."

The student blanches a bit. "Oh... Then. Um. What was the question again?"

Rika ruffles the kid's hair. "Yeah, that's about par for the course. Don't worry about it. You're doing fine." She turns to face you. "For real though, Basil was great. He ate all his snacks and took a great long nap earlier and slept through all the noise of the battling. Super well behaved.” You smile at the comments, your heart swelling with pride as Rika goes on. “So you're headed out then?"

You nod, adjusting Basil on your hip as he starts to fiddle with a button on his overalls.

"Yup. Today's the day!"

Rika whistles. "Well good luck. Lemme know if you end up needing anything, yeah?"

You nod. "Thanks, will do. It should be fine though. Basil, say 'bye-bye!'"

"Bye-aye!" He mimics, waving at Rika.

"Say 'Good luck, Challenger!'"

"Goobuh, tsaduh!"

You laugh and ruffle his hair while the student gives him a determined thumbs up.

"Good job." You murmur into his sweet little head.

You grab the rest of yours and Basil's things and leave the Pokemon League building. You thought it'd do your team some good to get some energy out before their big event today, so you convinced Rika to let you take on some of the Champion Testing battles.

Within an hour or so, you're in the meadows out by Medali with a picnic set up.

Basil is seated in a bouncing little chair that meets the height of the picnic table, and you're finishing up the preparation of food for him and the pokemon.

You kneel down to help him handle his sippy cup.

"Are you excited, my littlest?" You ask him, as he babbles happily. "I'm excited, too."

It had taken you a decent amount of time to build up your courage to quite this stage.

Sure, all your Pokemon met Basil back when he was just a little potato of a thing, barely had his eyes open and could really only eat, sleep, cry, and sometimes pull your hair. But you knew back then that having your Pokemon out and about in the house, within the grasp of a little person who could easily get hurt or unintentionally piss them off was a recipe for trouble.

So your Pokemon were temporarily kept separate from your son for everyone's sake. Of course you still saw them and cared for them and battled with them, but never when Basil was around.

Now he's...he's more like a real person. Now he can run around and play. He's still learning words, but he has thoughts and can speak for himself and understand many things about the world around him. Sometimes so much so that it surprises you!

So. You can trust him enough and teach him how to behave around Pokemon.

You know your team as well as, if not better than, you know your son. You know they won't hurt him.

Still... Tinkaton's hammer is so heavy...and Skeledirge's flames burn so hot... And Raidon...

But no!

You can't keep your loves apart like this any longer!

It feels like it's been ages.

You look back to Basil and swipe your thumb across his cheek where some juice left him sticky.

"Oh, you sweet creature. Are you ready to meet Mama's friends?"

"Mama!" He chatots back to you.

"Okay, Basil." You lay out all six PokeBalls before him. "Take your pick for who you wanna meet first, okay?"

Your boy regards the PokeBalls with shining, eager eyes. He's seen these before. Chubby fingers grasp at a red and white ball. Your oldest.

"Oooh, that's a good one, my love." You say, rolling the ball gently along the table's surface with a single finger, though never removing it from Basil's grip.

"My very, very best friend is inside here." You lean in close and whisper dramatically, making Basil giggle. "But you won't tell the others, yea? He and I have been together for longer than anyone else. He's super excited to meet you. Wanna say hello?"

Basil nods.

"Can you hand me the PokeBall?"

He picks it up, having to hold it with both hands as he maneuvers the thing to your outstretched palm.

"Very good, Basil! Alright. Let's meet Skeledirge!"

You toss the ball into the air, with only a little more than your usual flare that you have when you battle, and the big, beautiful crocodile materializes with a thud on the ground in front of the table. It rears back on its hind legs and gives a mighty roar.

Basil, for his part, stands as best he's able in his chair, with you holding a supporting hand behind his back, to watch the spectacle, clapping his hands at the pokemon before him.

"Keledur!" He shrieks, delighted, before moving to climb down and onto the ground.

You lift him up easily enough and prop him against your hip, but Basil wants no part of being held when something so cool is nearby. "Whoa whoa whoa, wiggle wurmple." You tell him. "We gotta learn how to say hello to Skeledirge, yeah?"

"Hello, Skel'dur!" Basil mimics automatically, still squirming.

Skeledirge has the patience and wherewithal to stay planted while you wrangle the little one to stand in your lap as you sit cross legged in front of the Pokemon.

"Okay, Basil. Now, you need to be gentle with Pokemon. They're our friends, so we always need to be nice. Can you say 'nice'?" You take both of his hands in yours.

"Mm..." He corrects the sound. "Nnnnice!"

"Very nice! Good job! So when we pet Pokemon, we have to be very nice." You help him lean in toward Skeledirge, placing his hand on the Pokemon's nose, just to the side of the tiny firebird, which graciously hops out of the way. "See? Nice. Gentle..." You help him repeat the petting motion.

Basil squeals delightedly, petting Skeledirge's snout as he stomps his feet between your legs.

The Pokemon grumbles softly and shuts his eyes, relaxing into the ground a bit.

"Aw, Skel'dur go slee'?" Basil asks you, as he keeps petting the massive creature. "'Ats okay, Skel'dur. You go slee'. Shh... Shh..."

"Good job, Basil..." You tell him, whispering into the soft bits of fluffy hair behind his ears. "You're being so nice to Skeledirge! While he naps, do you wanna try and meet someone else?"

Basil turns to face you and nods excitedly, gripping the hem of his shirt in his little hands.

You stand and lead him back to the table where the other balls are.

Once again, Basil selects a red and white PokeBall. Briefly you wonder why he doesn't care for any of your specialty balls, but you decide not to question it.

He holds the thing tight in both hands.

"Okay, Bas', that's another really good one! I mean, they're all stellar, obviously, but this one is fun. This Pokemon and I also go way back. All the way back to..." Your heart clenches a bit, but you push past it quickly. "The very start of my journey! A very special person gave me this Pokemon."

Is it bad that you haven't brought up Arven to Basil yet? He isn't that old yet... Not even two yet. He hasn't asked about a papa or a daddy... So? You just kinda let it ride.

"How about you throw the PokeBall this time, huh? Give it a shot. Just throw the ball, hard as you can." You mime the motion to him.

Basil nods solemnly, looking to the ball, then he takes a deep breath and chucks it with a shout!

Or.

Well, he...

He kinda tries to chuck it.

In reality, the ball falls to the ground beneath his feet. It doesn't really matter though because the reddish glow of the releasing pokemon is still able to distance itself from the pair of you as Raidon materializes upright and gives a full body shake, making a chirring sound.

Basil stands in awe of the dragon that towers over the pair of you.

"Big!" He shouts, and you laugh.

"Yup! It's a big pokemon! This is Raidon!" You pat the creature lovingly along its shoulder, encouraging it to return to all fours. It eyes Basil up and down curiously, tilting its head from side to side. The sight of your baby helps bring it back down to earth a bit, and once it's on all fours again, you kneel to Basil's level.

"Now Raidon is really cool because--"

Basil shrieks, and your heart jolts momentarily before you realize it's a cry of laughter as the pokemon presses its snout up against his chest, chittering happily at him.

Your gaze softens, watching Basil pet along the dragon's snout, just as he had with Skeledirge.

"Good job... We always wanna be nice to pokemon, yeah?" You eventually say, petting along Raidon's shoulder and back.

Basil nods but doesn't take his wide, shining eyes from the creature in front of him.

"So... One of the neat things about this Pokemon is that..."

Just like both of his parents, Basil falls in love with Pokemon quickly and whole-heartedly. He's just as eager to meet everyone else on the team as they are to meet him!

Basil makes sure to play nicely and pay keen attention, or as good attention as his developing brain can make out. When someone shuts their eyes, they've "gone to sleep," so they're done playing. If someone is bouncing around, they can still play! He especially likes trying to kick around the little ball you brought along with them.

The Pokemon are also all very gentle with him. Not that you doubted any of them, really. Well, maybe Tinkaton, a little bit... But even then! They seem to understand their strength and how to tone it down for play with a teensy human.

When the sun starts to set later that evening, and Basil's eyes start to droop as his hands lose their grip on the last few bites of his cut up sandwich, you decide it might just be time to head in.

You recall all the pokemon to their balls, pack up the picnic, tuck your boy into his stroller and get started on the trek back to your apartment.

You're not alone.

You repeat the phrase like a mantra.

You're not alone.

You know that.

Not in, like, a spiritual sense or whatever, or even in the literal sense. You're fully aware that you have your little boy with you nearly at all times.

But you're not alone in raising him.

There's Nemona and Rika who are consistently proving themselves and trying to outdo one another as Best Tía of All Time.

There's Clavell who is always happy to take Basil for an afternoon when you're busy on research business for the academy.

Even Larry has taken your boy once or twice. You recall once how he gave a small sort of half smile when he took the stroller from your hands and waved you off.

"It's fine." He'd said, "He makes good company at meals."

"He can barely talk?"

"Exactly."

So.

Yeah.

You're not alone in parenthood.

Except when you are.

And...you currently are.

It's late at night. Well past Basil's usual bedtime. Past any time you'd feel comfortable asking a friend for an extra set of hands.

You can't blame Basil. Not really.

This isn't his fault. He's a good, sweet boy. He isn't even two yet, and he's already so smart.

Sometimes you even forget how little he is because he's so smart and perceptive.

That's your fault.

So... Maybe you jumped the gun a bit.

Maybe it was too soon for Basil to have a pokemon of his own.

Maybe you didn't realize how tricky it was raising a pokemon in tandem with a toddler.

How was Basil to know that dog pokemon can't eat raisins?

How were you to know he'd figured out how to open up the pantry?

You'd only been in the other room for a few minutes, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth when Basil had slowly pushed open your bedroom door, shuffling from foot to foot.

"Mama... Buddy frowed up..."

So...here you are, after a tearful admission on your son’s part, rushing your sweet baby's maschiff to the closest Pokemon Center.

Basil is inconsolable in your lap as the taxi flies. Your attempts to calm him fall on entirely deaf ears, partly due to the fact that he's crying so loudly that even the Taxi Driver can barely hear anything. You’ll have to tip him really well.

Basil is a good, sweet boy. He really is, but the situation isn’t aided in the slightest when he flails about in his tantrum, bashing your nose with one of his tiny fists more than hard enough to draw blood. Beyond the pain and having to hold back your own tears for your boy’s sake, you also have to calm the rage, the fear, the panic building in your heart that makes you want to scream. You also have to stanch the blood haphazardly, pressing your tender face to your shoulder, while Basil bawls out his apologies to you.

Maybe if someone else were around, someone could have been watching Basil while you changed.

Maybe if someone else was around, they could have stayed home with him while you rushed off to the Pokemon Center.

Maybe if someone else was around, they could have talked you out of letting your baby boy have a pokemon of his own.

Maybe if someone else was around, you could allow yourself to panic a bit, too.

As it stands, you need to be the sole pillar of support here. No one is here to give you a hanky to wipe at your nose or dab at the unshed tears in your eyes. No one can rub your back soothingly and let you know it’s okay, help you calm your racing heart. No one is there to help quell the nauseous churning in your stomach.

It hits you then that you’d been so busy today that you hadn’t eaten dinner. Again. An empty belly certainly didn’t help the situation.

You try to take a breath. At least, a breath through your mouth.

Buddy the Maschiff (newly hatched as of a few weeks ago from an egg that had been sitting in your box for so long you'd had no idea what was even inside) will be fine, you tell yourself. They'll get him to keep throwing up or whatever needs to happen to get the rest of the raisins out of his system.

Basil will be fine. Maybe a little scared, but fine.

You will be fine. You'll keep the food up higher. No, the raisins were plenty high. Basil pushed a chair. You'll lock the pantry. No, that's crazy, you don't want to restrict food like that. You'll... You'll...

You'll calm down after maybe a few hours of sleep and a snack, maybe. Then you'll be able to think straight again. Maybe.

It's hard doing this alone.

"Okay, I think I'm set to go then!"

"Aw, babe, that's great! You sure you don't want me coming along?"

Arven sighs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I'm fine, really. I'm just packing up the rest of my stuff from my old storage unit in Mesagoza and coming right back here."

"Coming back to me, you mean?" His companion brazenly flirts. Arven lets it slide. He opens the door of the company car and steps out to the rush of the Lumiose City airport.

"I'll see you when I get back."

"Text me, babe!" She pushes, smiling wide, but Arven is already walking away.

He doesn't... He doesn't mean to be distant to the clingy woman. He's just...a little nervous for this trip is all. Paldea was the only home he ever knew before now, and he finally got the courage to leave for this Kalosian job. He was ready to grow from beneath the shadows of his world renowned parents and League Champion friends. He was ready to find something for himself and come into his own! And he’s done that! He’s still doing that! But it came at the cost of seemingly all of his friends back in Paldea. After your argument and subsequent blocking, everyone else dropped off like venonats not terribly long afterward. It really stung, and it still stings. Arven isn’t entirely sure what to expect when he returns to his home region. Has anyone been following his success? Will anyone even be happy to see him? Should he really just lay low, pack up his stuff, and spirit himself away like he was never even there? Somehow a Galarian goodbye feels worse than not even trying to rekindle a connection with some of his old pals.

Then again, none of this is an excuse to be rude to the woman who gave him a ride. She's been nothing but nice to him the last few years, serving as his PR rep at Bon Applintit. Maybe he should be nicer? Maybe he should finally cave and take her out on that date she's been seemingly begging for... He assumes she probably has some hand in the neat little reputation he's built online for himself as this chef-influencer guy.

Not that he really thinks it totally suits him entirely, but folks seem to really like his content, especially when he pairs human and pokemon food together, showing off how amazing Mabosstiff is.

That's really what it is at the end of the day, he figures. Mabosstiff is the real star of the show.

Not that he's bad, or something! He’s put a lot of effort the last few years into unlearning some of his old, unhelpful thought patterns. It's just... People love dogs, and Mabosstiff is the best!

So he's really lucky. He's hit a pocket of internet fame, and the company is keeping him on longer than his current contract. Kalos has been kind to him so far... It seems like a good place to plant roots, so... He may as well pack up the last bits of his life from Paldea and haul it off now.

The flight to Mesagoza barely takes any time. Boarding and disembarking truthfully take longer than total time in the air, but that's fine.

Arven steps into the streets and...

He's pleasantly surprised by how nice it feels to hear his own language again.

Kalosian isn't bad. He's gotten much better at it, really, even if he wasn't great with foreign languages back in his classes with Salvatore...

Maybe he should thank him? Or apologize? No, thanking him would probably be better.

Plus, if he stops by the school, he could see Clavell and Saguaro.

He wouldn't have to walk by his old apartment next to his storage unit yet.

The last place he hung out with you.

He won't have to think about how you weirdly got angry and shut him out after he had to cancel a few video calls.

He won't have to think about how empty his old place is. How he misses all his peers in his age group. How everyone else ended up dropping off within the year after you blocked him.

He won't have to think about his parents' old belongings that he needs to either pack up and move or toss.

...Yeah, stopping by the academy to see some of his old teachers might be nice.

Plus, Mabosstiff might like to check out the old stomping grounds again.

Arven makes the turn toward the massive set of looming stairs and releases his pokemon from his ball. The dog, for his part, takes a moment to slowly swivel his head from side to side, as if not quite believing his surroundings. He looks up at his person and tilts his head, one of his ears flopping inside out.

Arven laughs and pats his head, fixing the ear in the process. "Yeah, Bud." He says with a smile. "We're ho--...back for a bit. Wanna go stop by school? I bet Saguaro will have some treats for you."

Mabosstiff boofs loudly and gives a bounce--or, as much of a bounce as a dog of his size can really give--before bounding up the stairs. The sight makes Arven laugh even louder, taking after his pokemon, but Mabosstiff is much faster. He gets to the mezzanine landing in no time flat before pausing, his nose held high in the air. Mabosstiff clearly sniffs for several seconds before catching the smell of something and taking off like a bolthund, not bothering to wait for Arven to meet him.

"Hey! Buddy!" The man shouts after his pokemon, picking up the pace, but Mabosstiff pays him no heed and is out of sight within seconds.

The rational part of Arven's mind knows that Mesagoza's Academy is a safe place for pokemon, and that Mabosstiff knows how to handle himself, but at the same time, he can't help but worry just the tiniest bit as he rushes onward and upward along the stairway to try and catch up.

The tiny seed of worry sprouts and grows when he hears Mabosstiff's growling bark and a tiny shriek of a cry not long after.

"Mabosstiff!" He shouts, finally scaling the last of the stairs, doing his best to stave off the feeling of being winded. He isn't the teenager who used to traverse the region anymore, after all. His eyes dart along the courtyard, looking for a massive black cloud along the grass.

"Mabosstiff!" He shouts again, before another screech draws his attention to one of the benches where his dog seems to be perched on top of something.

"Mabosstiff, stop that now!" He calls over, running toward the scene. As he approaches, Arven makes out a speck of yellow and brown yampering and trying to climb up Mabosstiff's back, nipping at his ear.

Upon closer inspection, it's a little maschiff, but Mabosstiff is hardly paying it any mind, his attention entirely focused on using some kid in a stroller as a lollipop. Said kid is the one yelling up a storm.

"Bud!" Arven scolds him, grabbing Mabosstiff by the scruff of his neck. "Down! Now!"

With a pathetic sound, Mabosstiff backs off, as do the sounds of the little one in the stroller, whose squeals die into giggles and fits of laughter.

Arven breathes a sigh of relief that the kid wasn't frightened of his massive dog and that the shrieks he was hearing were probably just laughing. He returns his dog to its pokeball as the maschiff whines.

By now, Arven’s got enough wit about him to look to the kid's parent.

"Hey, uh, I'm so sorry about that. I really don't know what got into my Mabo--" Arven's words die on his tongue when he sees that the kid's accompanying adult was none other than Director Clavell, giving him a look as if he's seen a ghost.

"Oh! Director! Hi!" Arven greets him, embarrassed. "Sorry, I... I actually was stopping by to catch up and say hello to you. I'm back in town for just a few days and I wanted to, uh...catch...up... but, uh... Wow," He says with an awkward smile, gesturing to the stroller without actually looking at it. "Y'know, it's funny, I spent so much time with you as a kid, while Mom and Dad were in lab, and now–"

"Yes, well, Master Arven..." Clavell interrupts him, blithely moving to the child in the stroller who is briefly blocked from view as the director fiddles a bit, no doubt wiping away Mabosstiff's drool and adjusting their hair, something Arven remembers him doing countless times to him as a little boy.

A moment later, Clavell stands back up, an icy indifference covering his face, a perfect match to the chill that settles in Arven's veins as he actually looks at the kid in the stroller. "I'd say you bear a striking resemblance to your father now. We must be going. Good day."

Clavell turns the stroller around, and Arven watches as his old teacher walks off with a toddler that looks like a carbon copy of...himself, complete with a tiny maschiff following along at their heels.

His head swims. What? Who's that kid? How did Clavell get him? Why does he look just like Arven? And what was with that comment about him looking like his dad now?

Arven numbly lifts a hand to his chin. Sure, he'd let his facial hair grow out a bit, but... What? Clavell knows how Arven feels about his dad. That...that had to be a dig at him, right? Did...did the facial hair look dumb? It couldn't look that dumb? No, what was this about? And who is this kid?

By the time Arven has recovered enough to move his stupid legs into the building that Clavell and the boy had disappeared into, bolting to the director's office, the door is locked, and he's informed that Clavell has already left.

Fuck... He... He needs an answer here. Something is very wrong.

Did his mom or dad have some other kid he didn't know about or something? And then he had, like, a sibling or half-sibling somewhere who was unloading their spawn on the director?

No, that’s outrageous.

Maybe the kid just...just happens to look just like Arven?

This is stupid to just guess about. He just needs to be able to talk to someone.

Arven hurriedly makes his way to the Home Ec room and knocks at the door where the familiar face of Mr. Saguaro greets him with a friendly smile.

"Arven! Hello, my boy! Do come in, come in! Would you like something to eat? I just made pokemon treats, and I’m sure your Mabosstiff would love one!" His voice booms as Arven is ushered inside and enveloped in a tight hug.

The sensation nearly knocks the wind out of him, not just because of Saguaro's strength and size but because...well, he truthfully wasn't expecting such a warm welcome after getting the cold shoulder from Clavell. Or, he had been hoping for a warm welcome from his father figure only to be met with what he can only describe as paternal disdain.

Arven hugs Saguaro back. "Hello, Sir..." He says softly, forcing back the lump in his throat. "I, uh... I was just in the area..."

"Oh?" Saguaro asks, disengaging and pulling up a pair of seats for them to chat at a table. "Well, I'd love an opportunity to catch up with one of my most successful students. Please, sit and tell me what brings you by."

It's tempting. It's... It's really, really tempting to sit and chat about Kalos and Bon Applintit and all the good things lately, but Arven can't get the thought of that kid out of his mind.

"Sir..." He starts. "I saw Director Clavell on my way in..."

"Yes?" Saguaro asks, prompting him to continue.

"It, uh, it looked like he was... Maybe babysitting?"

Saguaro's eyes go distant for a second and he sighs. "Ah, so you saw..."

"Yeah." Arven interrupts before his former teacher has a chance to continue. "Who was that? The kid, I mean? And, well, why was the director taking care of--"

"Arven..." Saguaro sighs and stands back up, placing a hand on his shoulder. It's a comforting gesture, warm and heavy, but when Arven meets his gaze, hoping to find some type of answer to his confusion, he's met with sadness and what almost feels like disappointment radiating from the larger man. "Arven, I don't think I should be the one to tell you anything about that little one..." He says, his tone matching that same disappointment in his eyes. "That's a conversation you'll need to have with the child's mother."

"His mother...?" Arven asks, flabbergasted, his mind racing about who that could possibly be.

Saguaro nods. "You might find her at the Pokemon League this time of day, if you're lucky. I assume you don't have her number anymore?"

"Anymore? Wait, Sir, I'm not following here... I seriously have no idea what's g--"

Then it hits him.

You.

He slept with you.

It was...well, almost three-ish years ago? So...the timing would work out for a toddler. Not that he really knows what kids look like at different ages, but...

A toddler.

His toddler.

His toddler?

Arven doesn't realize his knees buckled. All he knows is that he's sitting in a chair, presumably placed beneath him by Saguaro just in time, a mug of water in his hands, while his teacher rubs gently at his back.

"Arven? Son, are you okay?"

"Don't say 'son'..." Arven mumbles out, his hands shaking as he grips the cup with near-white knuckles. He feels bile churning in his stomach. "I... I gotta go to the League... She hasn't spoken to me since...since..." He's trying to do the math in his head, but there's a block there, and between the rush of nausea and extreme anxiety, he can't focus.

"I gotta go. Sorry. I mean, thanks." He says, standing unsteadily before rushing from the room, Saguaro's protests falling on deaf ears.

Luckily, the Pokemon League isn't terribly far from Mesagoza, and Arven can make the trip on foot fairly easily in under an hour.

The whole trip there, he's panicking internally.

Did you really have his kid? That's...that's not what he actually saw was it? Then...then who was that little boy? Whose was he?

Beyond that, why hadn't you told him? Was this why you got all bitchy and dropped off the face of the earth? Well, maybe it wasn't bitchy...maybe it was hormones? But still! You never told him! Sure, he had to cancel your video calls several times, but... But you still could have found a way to tell him! You didn't need to block him! Was this why everyone else shut him out, too?

Actually... It all kinda lined up now. You blocked him, then...some number of months later, everyone else stopped talking to him, too. Even Penny stopped sending him the occasional meme.

What the fuck. Everyone thinks he's a deadbeat dad.

He is a deadbeat dad.

Or...is he? Can he be a deadbeat dad if he didn't know? ...Maybe that makes it worse? Fuck.

Maybe you didn't want him around for any of this, and that's why you didn't tell him... You knew he'd be a shitty dad or something. After all, what kind of dad could Arven be when his own dad didn't even want him?

No.

No, that's not right.

That's no way to think about any of this.

Something...

Something else has to be at play here.

Arven has talked himself down from the precipice by the time he's made it to the top of the hill on which the League building sits.

He's just about to open the door to enter when a smartly dressed person with long, teal hair exits, arms crossed and a stern look on their face.

"Hello. How can I help you today?" They ask formally.

"Hi, yeah. My name's Arven Sada-Turo. I'm looking for, uh..." He falters for a moment before giving your full name and title. It felt strange saying the whole thing out loud again, like lead on his tongue.

The person hums at him critically, then gestures with their chin back toward the building.

"Let's talk, Arven Sada-Turo."

He breathes a sigh of relief, following them through the doors.

"Oh, thank you so much. You know, I spent the last few years in Kalos, and I just came back today, so--"

"You've been in Kalos?" The person--Rika, according to the nameplate and pronouns on her desk--says. "Kalos is pretty nice. You must've been having a great time over there." She goes on, taking a seat and folding her hands in front of her.

"I, uh..." Arven eyes her, unsure. "I was... Um, I just came back to, um... Actually, is she gonna be here soon?" He asks, confused.

"Please." Rika gestures to the chair across from her desk. "Have a seat. We can have a chat while we wait for my dear friend, yeah?" She asks, her eyes narrowing like a Luxray.

"Um... Sure..." Arven says, sitting down uneasily. "So, she'll be down? I, uh, haha... I never bothered completing the League challenge while I was in school, so..." He looks around the lobby. "I dunno where she might...um...be..ya know, in the building..."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Rika speaks over him glibly, leaning back, crossing her ankles up on her desk. "I just wanna talk for a second. So you just decided to come back to Paldea to see my dear, sweet friend? Just a little pleasure call, or...?"

Arven splutters. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just trying to get your angle here, Sada-Turo. I don't see why you're bothering to come back after all these years. She's built a good life for herself, y'know? Super successful Champion, one of the best field researchers for our scientists. One hell of a mom. She doesn't need you or whatever pathetic excuse of an offer you might be trying to attempt here."

"Wh...What?!" Arven stammers, his heart pounding painfully in his chest when your status as a parent was confirmed. "I didn't even come back to see her! I came back to get the rest of my stuff and move permanently back to Kalos! It was only--"

"Then why are you here? Why don't you go?" Rika asks, her eyes going dark. "We don't need you. She doesn’t need you."

Arven's heart sinks. Rika was re-affirming all his worst thoughts, and as much as he feels urged to believe them, he fights it. This isn't a conversation he needs to have with some random woman at the Pokemon League. Who was she anyway? Your girlfriend? No, she called you a dear friend, but still…

Ugh, Rika’s relationship to you doesn't matter! He needs to talk to you.

"Is she coming down or not? Is she even in the building?"

"Not anymore." Rika smirks, checking her phone.

Arven audibly sighs and stands to leave. "You're wasting my time. I need to talk to her about...whatever this is that’s going on." He says, gesturing vaguely as he leaves the building.

"Oh, now you wanna talk to her? Why? Wanna try and convince yourself you're better than your own daddy because of your follower count or some tauros-shit?" Rika calls after him. "See if she gives you the time of day, Sada-Turo! Just see!"

Her words sting. Really badly, actually, but Arven tries to just let them slide off his back best he can. That woman doesn't know him. She isn't the priority right now.

You are.

He just needs to figure out some way to find and talk to you…

His phone buzzes obnoxiously in his pocket. He spares a glance at it as he hails a taxi on the off-chance that maybe you'd reach out, then turns the screen off. He doesn't have time for his PR rep right now.

#arven fanfic #arven x reader #arvensimp kidfic #arven x female reader #arven x pregnant!reader #pregnancy//#i think those were all the tags people wanted me to put this under so it could be black listed. please let me know if anyone needs others!

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prismatoxic · 1 month

Note

Absolutely losing my mind checking 4 ur fic update before I go to sleep every night PLSSS UR INTERPRETATION OF THEM MAKES ME INSANE

WAUGH... anon i'm so sorry it's taking so long 😭 comparatively speaking, anyway. i've NEVER updated a fic as fast as i have with this one, lmao

but!! i am still working on it, i promise. and thinking about it all the time. in fact i have its playlist on right now

here, an excerpt to maybe tide you over a little:

In front of the door, Laios holds a hand out. “Wait here a sec. I’m gonna put the dogs out back.”

Right. Falin had mentioned dogs. There was no reason to assume there wouldn’t still be any, even if the Touden siblings had long since moved out. Chilchuck peers around Laios’s legs as he unlocks the door, then squeezes into the gap he makes as he opens it, commanding the animals in question to get back in a tone of voice far more fond than it is authoritative.

He’s cute.

Chilchuck crosses his arms and tips his head back, staring up at the sky. Get it together, Tims.

By the time Laios makes his way back, he’s clearly been noticed; Chilchuck hears him confirming his presence to someone before he opens the door. “Come on in,” he greets, but there’s a tension to him now that’s hard to ignore.

“Who did you—?” Chilchuck meets the elder Touden’s eyes as he steps inside, and they both freeze up for a moment. Chilchuck intends to stand his ground, but Laios’s father has those same piercing eyes, sans the default kindness of his son’s. He’s more intimidating than Chilchuck wants to admit.

“He’s a friend,” Laios explains, closing the door before motioning for Chilchuck to follow him. He clearly has no interest in prolonging the interaction, but his father stops him anyway, stepping into their path. Chilchuck discreetly moves closer to Laios in response. He doesn’t intend to play the role of a scared child hiding behind an adult’s legs, but he’s still a little bit nervous.

“You should tell me before you bring strangers over, Laios,” the mayor says, and while he doesn’t sound angry, he doesn’t sound particularly thrilled either. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to grab some of our old camping gear,” Laios responds, and Chilchuck can feel waves of icy contempt rolling off of him—like when they found the traps, but less angry. “He and I are gonna go for a hike.” He gestures Chilchuck’s way, but doesn’t take his eyes off of his father.

“This is the monster thing again, isn’t it,” Laios’s father sighs, looking briefly down at Chilchuck in a way that suggests he’s being blamed for enabling this. He bristles in response, ready to say something, but Laios beats him to the punch.

“Did you forget we used to go camping all the time?” he asks, stepping a little to the side to shield Chilchuck. The gesture should feel patronizing, but at this point, Chilchuck knows all too well that Laios’s intentions towards him are never infantilizing. “Why is it okay if it’s you but bad if it’s me?”

Unable to really see past Laios, Chilchuck can’t see his father’s face, but he sounds terse when he says, “That wasn’t for monster-sighting. You know the only thing I want is—”

“The only thing you want is for me to turn into you,” Laios spits.

“Laios,” his father admonishes, and Chilchuck realizes this is a normal interaction for them to have from the exasperation in his tone. Much as he doesn’t like the guy, he feels something familiar in his struggle.

“Hey,” he finally decides to cut in, reaching up to bump Laios’s closer hand with his own. “Calm down. Let’s get the stuff we came here for.”

Laios looks down at him in surprise, cheeks dusted faintly pink as the anger seems to bleed out of him all at once. When he looks back at his father, Chilchuck sees his jaw tighten, but all he says is “Pardon me,” side-stepping the mayor and walking past him to the stairs.

Chilchuck follows, at least for a few steps, then hesitates as Laios starts ascending. When he looks back, he finds the elder Touden watching him with an expression that’s hard to define.

“...I have three kids,” Chilchuck explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “And... y’know, I let him do his thing, so. He’s more inclined to listen.”

Laios’s father doesn’t respond right away, and when he does, all he says is: “You’re Tims. From the other day.” He doesn’t even sound angry, just... surprised.

“Chilchuck?” Laios calls from the top of the stairs, and Chilchuck shrugs, a little sheepish, before following him.

#tox answers #i hope you like it anon.................#fic: promises to keep #toxwrites

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

Text

Nancy & Eddie; Nancy & Barb; implied Nancy/Barb cw: canon character death

Nancy doesn't go to the funeral.

They're burying an empty casket in an empty plot of land surrounded by empty minds stuffed full to the brim with coverups and lies and half-truths and Nancy just can't.

She knows how it will look, Barb's best friend not showing up on this important day, this celebration of life for the girl who never did anything but love her, it's only... just because it's better than the Hollands holding out hope for a search that will never end, that doesn't mean it feels like enough.

Not for Nancy, not when no one will ever know that she was the last one to see Barb alive and all she did was turn her back and walk away. No one will ever know that Barb had a bad feeling and Nancy didn't listen. No one will ever know that it was Nancy's fault, that if she had just gone with Barb maybe they would have been in the car before the Demogorgon found them, been able to drive drive drive to safety.

So Nancy can't go to the funeral, because it's not enough, this watered down story, and it's also far, far too much when she's spent a full year grieving alone and is finally allowed to do so out loud.

She doesn't know how to do that, how to let people see it, how to do anything other than fight it.

What she does do, however, on the day they bury an empty casket in an empty plot of land in East Hawkins, is hide in the woods.

There's a self-destructive part of her that longs for the damp, the living dead of what is Barb's actual final resting place. There's a selfish part of her that wonders why it couldn't have been Tommy Hagan or Carol who sliced their hand open that night.

There's just the Nancy part of her that sits in her funeral best at a mossy picnic table under a canopy of empty branches and longs for the chaos of a world-ending threat so she could at least have a place to put the rest of it.

The restlessness, recklessness, complete and under destructiveness.

"Nancy Wheeler?"

She almost jumps out of her skin, almost trips over her own feet stumbling off the bench and onto solid ground to spin around and confront the new presence in this little clearing, snagging her hose in the process.

How she didn't hear him coming over the sound of her own guilt is self explanatory enough, she supposes, but she works her jaw out of frustration on principle anyway.

"Sorry," Eddie Munson puts his hands up palms out and takes a step backwards, "didn't mean to startle you."

Nancy just hums out a terse sound of acknowledgment, feeling his eyes give her an intrigued and curious once-over, and sits back down with a huff and a shake of her head.

Maybe it should be her cue to leave, him showing up, but she's not going to be pushed out of her own head that easily. She's not going to be pushed out of this place of bastardized reverence by some guy she goes to school with.

"I just..." he chuckles half-heartedly and lacking a little bit in proper humor, "wasn't expecting Nancy Wheeler, is all."

"Can I help you with something?" she all but snaps, elbows on the table in front of her, one knee bouncing beneath it.

Eddie makes a contemplative face, eyebrows lifting high under the cover of crooked bangs.

"Usually I'm the one asking that around these parts," he says pointedly, tucking his hands under his armpits and tapping the toe of his shoe against damp earth.

Nancy looks at him, is seen in return, and then--

"Oh," she frowns ever so slightly as she realizes what he's insinuated.

"Yeah," he agrees, "hence the surprise about Nancy Wheeler."

Nancy scowls harder, down at her hands rather than him though.

"Stop saying my full name like you're making a point about something,” she says, although what Eddie seems to hear is come on over and take a load off buddy, because that’s just what he does.

The way he carries himself is like he’s aware of every one of his angles, not even in a self absorbed way, just like he’s present in his skin on instinct rather than the forced sort of perpetual narrative crafting that Nancy feels herself doing in every minute of every day.

He sits across from her and pulls out a cigarette, but he only gets so far as to perch it upon his lower lip before she’s snatching his bic out of his hands and leaving the thing unlit.

"Well. Alright," he deadpans, cigarette still sitting in his mouth and hands held frozen aloft as he looks at her with ever-growing intrigue.

Nancy doesn't want to be intriguing. She wants to be alone. She wants to be able to attend a funeral like a best friend should instead of sitting alone in the woods in her nicest black dress with her nicest black heels sinking into the mud beneath the table.

She flicks on the lighter and watches the flame flicker in the gentle but cold wind of the day, not going out but hand trembling slightly with the force of holding down the trigger the longer she does it for.

"Um. Are you, like, good?"

Stilted like he hasn't asked a person in a while, or maybe just because she's Nancy Wheeler. God. If only being a teenage girl in a small town didn't mean succumbing to a box and not being allowed to outgrow it no matter how much you see or do or feel or-- or--

"I'm not here to buy drugs from you," she tells him bluntly, flicks the lighter again when it goes out just to watch it burn.

"Sure," Eddie shrugs. "Wouldn't blame you though, honestly. What with. Today."

Her eyes flick up to look at him, and her face is just this side of too numb to control the kind of expression she offers him, but whatever it is has him meeting her head-on for a beat and a half and then... shrugging again.

"Okay," he says, easy as that, not trying to sell her on it in the slightest.

Nancy lets the lighter go out again and smacks it down on the table in between them with a bit more force than intended. Her hands aren't steady today. Her heart isn't.

She thinks the whole of the universe might not be, what with the opening of a space in the ground for a girl already long buried beneath another.

Eddie lights up and takes a long drag, exhales away into the wind so the smoke won't blow in her face. She doesn't know why he's here, why he's being-- maybe not nice, but a person to her.

All week, the whole town has walked on eggshells around her, afraid to breathe wrong near the girl who just learned her best friend has been dead the whole time as if she's not the one who told them. As if she wasn't there when it happened.

"When does it start?" Eddie asks, pulling one foot up onto the bench with him and perching elbow on knee.

Nancy glances down at her watch.

"Five minutes ago."

"You could still make it," he says on another exhale, "these things always take ages longer than you think they're gonna."

Nancy considers it, considers the optics of loud creaking church doors in the middle of a eulogy.

"Everyone will look at me if I show up late."

Eddie hums in understanding. Everyone's been looking at her all week.

She really doesn't want to give them further reason to stare, doesn't want to have this numbness take over in front of an audience that expects her to break down and cry with the catharsis of finally accepting reality because she can't.

There's nothing cathartic about this, barely even closure about it, and Nancy can't move, is hardly sure how she's talking to Eddie Munson of all people right now.

"Bet I could get you in under the radar," he offers so casually she almost misses that it's an offer at all, feels her brow pull together in confusion when she actually does.

"What?" she balks at him eloquently, but Eddie is unphased.

"If I walk in late too, no one's gonna be looking at you.”

“Why would you do that?”

She doesn’t know a lot about Eddie Munson when she thinks about it, what with him technically being two grades above her even if he’s hung around long enough to close that gap to one now, but something about the way he sits there makes her feel like…

It’s not that Jonathan doesn’t get it! It’s not that even Steve doesn’t in his own distant way. It’s not that— that any of them aren’t without their fair share of trauma and loss at the end of it all, but. Well, they haven’t lost someone.

Not like this, not like Nancy losing Barb, not like a person who is so inherent to your life that you can’t quite find the places where they end and you begin to make the amputation clean.

But Eddie Munson sits here smoking his damn cigarette and he said these things like he knows, is offering this thing, this massive thing she isn’t even sure she wants.

She doesn’t know a lot about him, but Hawkins is small enough to have heard tell of the fact that he lives with his uncle instead of a family somewhere in Kentucky.

“Did you even know Barb?”

The name tastes like blood on her tongue.

“We crossed over in band for a year when you guys where freshmen,” he says, a tug at the corner of his lips as he drops his gaze and ashes his cigarette off the edge of the table, “she was the most judgmental, funny little weirdo I’d ever met. Didn't take shit from anyone. I was kinda obsessed with her, not gonna lie.”

Nancy has to clench down on her jaw around the trembling flash of a memory-- Barb carrying her flute case when she crowded in next to Nancy on the bus, knees and shoulders touching, giggling with faces tipped close enough that sometimes, if she was lucky, Nancy could smell the distinct hint of perfume that she'd bought Barb for her birthday.

She breathes deeply where she sits today, gets nothing but the damp of rotting leaves and cigarette smoke.

"She was my..." Nancy chokes on it, because there's not a word that belongs there and because even if there was, she probably shouldn't express that to a near-stranger.

The phantom press of a knee up against hers, fingers intertwined with her own, faces tipped close.

Not a word for it. It's too big for that, really.

"She was yours," Eddie says, quieter this time, a little less confident and a lot more stunned in this big-eyed, knowing sort of way that has Nancy raising her hackles and all but shooting to her feet, heel lodged in mud enough to make her stumble in the process. "Woah, hey there--"

Eddie doesn't touch her, but he throws an arm out as though his instinct was to catch her, only for Nancy to jerk away and wrap her arms tight around her, closing her coat over the front of her body like it might protect her.

"I'm sorry," he says, staying sitting as though to prove something in the same way saying her full name was to prove something. "You don't have to-- be scared of me."

Nancy gets the sense it's the truth, she has a good sense of that kind of thing after all, but she laughs without humor as she looks down at the mud-caked toes of her dress shoes, the run in her tights right there on her shin.

She laughs, brittle and breaking, because the fact of the matter is--

"I have to be scared of everything."

When Nancy turns on her heel and walks towards the church, she isn't sure if it's out of obligation or want, but it doesn't matter anymore.

When Nancy cries alone in the shower, pretends to have found closure around everyone else, she's not sure if that's out of obligation or want either.

Living with the presence of Eddie Munson at the back of her mind for the next year and a half is a thing all its own, and she doesn't seek him out but she doesn't avoid the kind nods of I see you in the halls.

It's something like balance when, in the spring of '86, she's able to return a little bit of the favor.

Save him back, for the sake of a judgmental weirdo who played the flute.

For the sake of those of them still waiting in the woods.

#dot post #dot fic #nancy wheeler #barb holland #eddie munson #Nancy & Eddie #nancy/barb #happy sapphic sunday let nancy have unresolved feelings about her dead best friend mwah<3 #cw: grief/mourning

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

dear slim, I wrote you but you still ain’t callin,

Req:

reader is the oldest of many siblings and is in college, eventually drops out of college to help more. readers single parent (can be mom or dad) relies heavily on reader to do things for the younger siblings, pick them up for school, make supper etc. any entertainment for the kids is purely on the readers dime but it all goes unnoticed. She finally decides to do something for herself and is scrutinized by her parent for not being there. Eddie comforts her during all of this and helps in anyway he can. Telling her she is worth more than just being a rely on for her parent.

Stan.

@trashmouth-richie 🫥💕

Here it is, bb <3 I hope you like it!

Warnings: absent parent, some language

WC: 1.6k

Thank you to @firefly-graphics for the phoenix dividers!

You didn't realize that the day could already feel long at 7:30 AM until you had to raise your younger siblings.

"Let's go! Up and at 'em!" You try to sound chipper as you rouse your 10-year-old sister and 8-year-old brother. "Time for school, you little gremlins!"

Annie squints at you, grimacing at your wake-up call. "Five more minutes," she grumbles, pulling the covers to her chin.

"You said that five minutes ago," you remind her, exasperated. "C'mon, I can't be late for work again or Keith is gonna fire me."

Your sister begrudgingly obeys, and you breathe a sigh of relief before battling the demon that is your little brother. "Wake up, Nicky," you call out, only to be met by a pillow chucked at your head. It narrowly misses your glasses, and you march over to him angrily.

"Get. Up," you hiss, wrenching the blankets off of the pajama-clad boy, "or I will loudly announce to your class that you're late because you wet the bed." The threat works, with Nicky dressed and downstairs in a flash.

Your mom is in the kitchen, talking to Nicky while running around to gather her wallet and keys.

"Ask your sister to make you pancakes," she's saying absently. "I'm sure she won't mind."

You clear your throat. "Actually, today's menu includes cereal or...cereal," you report. There's no time for anything beyond that, anyway.

"But I...want...pancakes!" Nicky cries, stomping his feet on the tile floor.

Your mom rolls her eyes as Annie strolls in. "Oh, and don't forget to pick them up from school today."

"Got it," you reply tersely, pouring some Cheerios into a bowl despite Nicky's wailing protests. She's out the door before you can say anything else.

After school drop-off, which somehow happens on time, you drive yourself to work. Pulling on your ugly Family Video vest, you make your way into the store.

Wednesdays are the worst because you're stuck with Keith for the day. Steve has off today, and Robin doesn't come in until you leave, which means your shift will drag.

"Morning," you mutter. Keith unsurprisingly doesn't even respond. He barely says a word to you until an hour into the day.

"Oh, I need you to cover the first half of Robin's shift," he tells you casually. "She called in sick and Steve can't make it in until 4."

You shake your head. "Sorry, Keith," you say, though you're not the least bit apologetic. "I pick up my siblings from school, remember?"

Your manager gives a little laugh. "Okay, well, how about this," he leans in closer to you with a sneer. "You cover the shift, or you never work another day here again."

"But...I need this job." Your mouth goes dry, and you feel your palms moisten with sweat. Everything the kids needed beyond food, clothes, and shelter--whatever your mom was legally obligated to provide--fell on you. You'd just spent a third of your last paycheck sending Annie on a field trip to the zoo.

Keith just shrugs, heading into the break room to snag a bag of chips from the vending machine.

Fuck. You can't lose your job, but you also can't afford after-school childcare. Your chest tightens, making you feel like you're breathing through a coffee stirrer. Blinking back tears, you run through your options: you can leave work and hope that Keith is in a forgiving mood, you can use the extra cash you make to pay for the childcare, or you could beg your mom to pick up Annie and Nicky. The fact that you'd have to plead with her to take care of her own kids leaves a sour note in your stomach.

"Hey, Y/N!" a familiar voice pulls you away from your thoughts. You glance up to see your best friend, Eddie Munson, burst through the doors. "Sorry it's a little late, but could you waive the--whoa, what's wrong, sweetheart?"

You can't hold back anymore, and the dam bursts. Tears stream down your face and plop onto your shoulders. "It's t-too much," you sob. "I can't k-keep running myself ragged like this." You explain your problem through heaving breaths, Eddie rubbing your back comfortingly.

"Why don't I pick up the little rug rats?" he asks gently. "I can stay with them until you get home."

You shake your head. "No, I couldn't ask you to do that, Eds," you murmur.

"You're not," he replies with a laugh. "Technically, I'm asking you."

You offer him a wry smile. "Are you sure? I don't wanna put you out."

"Positive," Eddie says. "Let me do this for you, okay?"

"Okay," you agree hesitantly. "Pick-up's at 2:30; if you get there later than 2:45, they'll charge for after-school care."

Eddie contorts his face, making you giggle. "Jeez, really? Don't worry, I'll be there at 2:30 sharp." He gives a little salute, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"I owe you," you promise him, taking the VHS from his ringed fingers. You feel a spark of electricity as your hands touch.

"Nah," he smiles, "just waive that late fee for me, will ya?"

After your extended shift, you trudge through the front door. Dinner tonight will probably be something from a can, and as much as you can barely stomach the thought of Spaghetti-os or Chef Boyardee, you're too exhausted for anything more strenuous.

The scent of burgers and fries wafts past your nose. When you walk into the kitchen, you see Eddie sitting at the table with Annie and Nicky. Your siblings have kids' meals, and Eddie's chowing down on a bacon cheeseburger. The three of them are laughing so hard you'll worry they'll choke.

"Y/N!" Eddie calls out excitedly. "You're home!"

"Yup!" You muster up a tired smile. "You're relieved of your babysitting duties, sir."

Nicky speaks up from his seat. "Eddie was just telling us about how he broke his leg trying to crowd surf at one of his concerts." The mention of the story sends him into another fit of giggles.

"I remember that," you say. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," Eddie responds, shaking his frizzy mane. He looks over at the grease-soaked bag on the table. "Oh, here--this one's for you." He pulls out a burger and a side of curly fries. "I specifically asked for curly, because those are your favorite."

Your heart melts at the kind gesture. "Thank you," you murmur. "How much did it cost?" you ask, reaching into your bag for your wallet.

"Um...seven million dollars," Eddie replies cheekily.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!" But he can't help but chuckle. "I'm tellin' ya, this inflation thing is out of control."

You shelve your response, too tired to argue with him now. Instead, you turn to your siblings. "Did you two finish your homework?" Their silence answers for them. "Go to it; let me know if you need any help." They scamper into the living room, leaving you and Eddie alone.

"You're free to get home, if you want," you mutter, taking a bite of your burger. It's the best thing you've ever tasted. "Or you can stay. I don't wanna keep you..."

"Do you even know how amazing you are?" he blurts out without thinking. "I never met someone who did so much for other people."

"I mean," you stammer, "I-I kinda have to." You gesture to the living room. "My mom doesn't take care of them like she should."

"But that's the thing," Eddie insists. "You shouldn't have to. You shouldn't have had to drop out of college to pick up extra shifts at work so you can pay for their stuff. You shouldn't have to be at your mom's beck and call for free childcare. You shouldn't have to constantly pick up the pieces when she makes mistake after mistake."

You gaze at the ground, unable to meet his big brown eyes. "I guess I just want to be the big sister I wish I had when I was their age," you admit. "I wish there was someone looking out for me the way I do for them."

"I'll take care of you," Eddie says softly. "That's all I've ever wanted, if you'll let me."

"It's not just me, though," you tell him. "It's me and Annie and Nicky. At least until they're old enough to take care of themselves."

"Okay, so then I'll take care of the three of you." He says it without any hesitation, like he's been waiting for you to ask. "I can help out with pick-ups, and dinners, maybe throw together a PB&J sandwich for their lunches..."

"Why?" you utter suddenly. "Why would you do that for me...for us?"

Eddie rests a hand on your thigh. "Because I love you," he confesses. "and it breaks my heart watching you give so much of yourself to others and not getting the same in return."

You're stuck on his initial statement. "You...love me?" you squeak out. Surely he just means as a friend, right?

He nods. "Love you so much; always have, always will." And he leans into you, his plush lips meeting yours for a soft kiss. The hand not on your thigh reaches up to cup your cheek. "Was...was that okay?"

You nod breathlessly. "It was more than okay, Eddie. And...I love you, too." It feels so good to say, and even better when his face splits into a grin.

"Really?"

"Mhm," you say, your smile matching his. "Always have, always will."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #fluff #requests

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little-cereal-draws · 2 years

Text

"Laters Gators" (MKtober day two)

Voicemail 1 out of 42, May 2nd, 2024, 11:49 AM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum! It's me! I just got to the flat you're renting me and let me just say it's gorgeous! Super spacious and has a wonderful view of the street! Yeah, I'm looking at it now. All the people look so small."

Laugh, traffic noises in the background. The sound of a window closing, the traffic is quieter now.

"Anyway, Mum, I was just calling to say thank you so much again for letting me live here a while until I can get on my feet. As soon as I finish unpacking these boxes, I'm going to start job hunting. Yeah, might take a day or two for me to get through them all though, there's a lot."

Uncertainty, lying.

"Um, yeah. But anyway, hopefully I can find a job soon enough. I mean it's a big city, someone has to be hiring."

Laugh.

"Call me back when you can, I know the time difference makes it wonky. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 2 of 42, May 10th, 2024, 3:44 PM

Beep

"Hi, Mum! Good news!"

Traffic, wind, definitely walking outside.

"I just got out of an interview with a school, and I think it went pretty well. I'm applying for a librarian position. Work with kids and teach them, y'know? I really think they liked me! They certainly seemed more interested in me than that bookstore. Hopefully they call me back soon! Anyway, I would love to hear how you've been, call me back when you can. And I'll let you know if I get the job. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 5 of 42, May 24th, 2024, 6:37 PM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum. I've been doing well."

Sad, tired, light sounds of clanking metal in the background.

"I'm cooking dinner right now. I'm still job hunting. It's been a bit tougher than I thought. I mean, I don't have any credentials or schooling for one. Also, I don't have any proof of my identity. It's a bit silly but since I don't have a driver's license or a passport or a social security card, I've started carrying around that postcard you sent me as proof. It's like 'Look, mate. I'm sitting right in front of you, that's my name and address on the card, and I exist, don't I? You can hire me!' but I understand why they can't do that. Criminals and all that. Stealing people's identities or whatever."

Slight laugh that ends in a long sigh.

"So, I'm working on getting an ID first and then I'll get back to job hunting. That postcard looks fun though, I've always wanted to go to Rome. Roma. Well, call me back and tell me how it went. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 15 of 42, July 1st, 2024, 6:18 PM

"Hi, Mum. I was just calling to let you know how the first day of my new job went! The one at the museum. I'm, um, a tour guide like I was telling you, yeah."

Uncertainty, lying.

"It went really, really well. I met so many new people and I think I really inspired them, y'know? My boss Donna is just a peach. She calls me Stevie. It's like an inside joke we have."

Tense, gritted teeth.

"We just get a long like peas in a pod. No problems there! Everyone is just so nice!"

Nervous laugh.

"Everything's going just great. I loved your postcard from Bejing. All the signs and lights. Looked really cool. I know you've always got loads of work and you're always traveling but call me back, please. I miss you."

A long pause. A throat being cleared.

"Um, right, yeah, ok. Anyway, I'm home now so I gotta go. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 24 of 42, August 24th, 2024, 8:11 PM

Beep

"Hi, Mum. Sorry for calling so late, though I suppose it's not late there, I don't know. I had to stay late to do inventory. Again. Not as punishment, I just enjoy endless counting and scanning. It really gets me going."

Tired, so tired. The sound of a bag being dropped on the floor. A long pause.

"Ok, Mum, just tell me when you're free and I'll call you then. It doesn't matter if I'm at work, I'll just step into the toilet and call you there. You haven't returned a single one of my calls. You send postcards all the time, and I love those, but the messages -if there is one! - are always very short and terse."

Footsteps followed by the sound of papers rustling.

"'Hello from Caracas!' 'Sending love from Karachi!' This one says, 'Hello from Casablanca. Love Mom.' That's the longest message you ever wrote me! Please, Mum, I want to know how you're doing! I want to hear about your day! I want to hear your voice-"

Voice breaking, long pause, slight sniffling.

"Please, Mum. I- I miss you. I've- um, I've been having a really tough time actually. London's been hell. I don't have any money or friends and I hate my job; everyone bullies me there. I'm actually a stupid cashier in the gift shop not a tour guide like I told you."

Getting more choked up.

"I can't even have a peaceful homelife! I've got some sort of sleeping disorder and I keep waking up in weird places with horrible injuries. It's only a matter of time before I get arrested for trespassing or some other crime! I can't rest in the day, and I can't rest at night! I hate my life; I hate it so much!"

Sobbing.

"I am so lonely!! I don't- I don't-"

More sniffing and sobbing.

"Mummy, please... call me back... I need you..."

Sobbing.

Voicemail 25 of 42, August 24th, 2024, 8:47 PM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum."

Voice hoarse, uncertain, tired.

"So, um, about the message I just sent you. I was um, just... drunk. Yeah, that's it."

Uncertainty, lying.

"But I'm better now. I threw up and had some tea and potatoes. I, um, did that all really fast. So, um, sorry about that. Please disregard that last message, I don't know what I was going on about, I'm actually doing quite well."

Forced laugh.

"Anyway... I'll stop bothering you now. Let you get back to whatever you're doing. Love you. Laters gators."

#I swear I'll draw some of the prompts but i really wanted to write this one #it got so angsty lol #marvel #mcu #moon knight #moon knight 2022 #moon knight fic #steven grant #wendy spector #mktober2022 #moon knightober 2022 #my fics

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many-melancholies · 5 months

Text

If Love is the Answer - SoapGhost

♡

part: 5/5

♡

“Soap!” Simon yelled, realising what his father meant. “Get out of the house!” The hologram raised his brow in confusion, simultaneous with the loud sound of kaboom! Not from a firework though.

After all, why would his house be covered in searing, orange, burning flames if that was the case?

Simon coughed and coughed from the explosion, head down and gloves and bare feet covered in ash. “John!”

Soap emerged from the fire the most glitchy Simon had seen him. His orb was almost falling, and the hologram scurried at his inventor’s side.

“You are in a state of shock,” Soap mentioned. “Your pupils are dilating, your heart is pumping immensely, your sight is off and you are ringing in the ears.”

“No crap, Sherlock,” Simon laughed humourlessly. “You’re broken,” he observed. “You need some fixing.”

Soap looked at him tersely. “Do you not see yourself?! You’re sacrificing your life for someone who isn't even real! I know I’m going to ‘die’ anyways! Your dad did this right? Because the real, human, dead John MacTavish changed you for the better?” His words were bitter and heartbroken. “Even with every lie your brilliant mind creates, I’m not real! Not human! What part of that do you not understand?”

They could hear the sounds of boots on the gravel road.

“You weren’t John to me!” Simon shouted. “You’re Soap! A hologram who kept me living for a year! Who became my light and my joy when I was crumbling back to what I was before John went into my life! You made me do something John didn’t do! He was a partner, but you’re a…I said it before, you’re mein freund! You're the one thing I needed the most in my life. I'm absolutely nothing without you. How much more do I have to say for you to understand?!”

“Simon Riley!” Mr. Riley called from the door. “If you don’t unlock this door this instant I will not hesitate to bust it open!”

“And I’m so sorry if I treated you like you were someone else.”

The hologram was in tears. “It’s the opposite, really,” he said. “I’m so happy you treated me like your friend. Like I wasn’t a hologram. I’m glad to be of service but not of a tool. It was enchanting to meet you. But we both know that I’ll be gone in a few minutes.”

Simon caught his breath. The near-city crowd was in the final countdown for the new year. “Zehn!” the cheers shouted. Ten.

“Riley, no-, Simon, you genius, oblivious, and kind human being, thank you. You’ve given me too much to feel,” the hologram said, barely audible. “Remember when I asked you before what it meant to be human?”

“Neun!”

The hologram looked up at him. “Of course,” Simon said in an equally hushed tone. “I didn’t even know the answer to that question.”

“Acht!”

Soap smiled, holding his orb. “You saw yourself as a monster, I know,” he traced Simon’s cheek.

“Sieben!”

“But everything you have ever done, the kind and the cruel, you did it for love. You raised yourself to the standards of your father for love. You became a better person with the help of John MacTavish for love. You created me for love. Love is who you are. Love is what it means to be human.”

“Sechs!”

“Knowing you has changed me more than you would ever know. Because when you cared, I cared. I cared about Mrs. Riley, about Price, about John MacTavish, about you. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me.”

“Fünf !”

“Why does this sound like goodbye?” Simon asked, tears rolling down.

“Vier!”

“Because it is. It’s love. Love is the answer,”

“Drei!”

A silent beat passed.

“Zwei!”

“You almost convinced me I’m real.”

“Eins! Frohes neues Jahr!”

Before Simon was able to do anything, the hologram smashed it to the ground. The ray of blue light flickered and Soap blew away from existence, only lasting in the memories of those who saw him. Simon shook his head, over and over, crushing the hologram’s weightless, fading form against him.

He laughed, sounding distant and far away until there was nothing left, just air, a fading wisp of blue smoke disappearing into the eternal night as bright fireworks lit up the sky.

“You’re real to me.”

* * *

Bump

Ba-bump

Cl-ba-bump

Click

nothing more

They remembered touch.

He was a boy who wanted to save lives and serve kindness.

He was a boy with a dream; to create something world-changing and be nothing but perfect.

Both boys used to be an enemy, a rival, a friend, and a partner.

They were useless, helpless, all alone.

He was pride and ego, while he was laughter and smiles.

But what did it mean? What was the point? They didn't know.

There were wooden tables. Passing test papers. Studying in the library. Suits and ties. Gracious movements. Beating hearts.

And there were cardboard boxes. German dictionaries. Talking plants. Cheesy songs. Specialised gloves. Marble cake. Chocolate gelatos. Melodic violins. Burning hearts.

It never considered touch before. It had one thing to worry about: results.

Progress. Results. Success.

At first it thought why its creator was treating it like that. As if it was human, like him. As a hologram, it assumed that it was just a replacement for someone he’d lost. It would be a reasonable explanation of why anyone ordinary would make a copy of his deceased partner.

But Simon was not anyone.

Simon was not ordinary.

It started with something small, just a flicker, something they didn't understand. A brief touch, a shimmer of heat, a tremor in the fingertips. Buzzing anger. Fluttering happiness. Tingling sorrow. It didn't know what it was, but it knew it needed it, more than anything else. Simon smiling, Simon furrowing his brows, Simon sighing in relief, Simon examining his homework.

Simon, Simon, Simon.

It had thought its purpose was to guide its creator to perfection and success.

But if its creator was happy, then failure of service didn't matter. Success didn't matter. Only him. Only touch. But something was still missing.

What was it?

It had remembered the sound of quaking walls and roofs. The exact grooves of the hard cement floor he laid on. The vermillion blood splattered on his body. The hot tears he had tried to keep at bay while he smiled.

What was missing? What went missing? None of these memories belonged to it, but they were there regardless, and when Simon pulled away or couldn't be touched, the emptiness there threatened to tear its existence apart.

The work had to continue. It needed to keep feeling. It didn’t need to keep him more brilliant than he already was. It needed to keep him happy.

It realised its mistake too late.

It was one thing to exist, to speak, to guide him. It was another thing entirely to desire things of their own. It wanted, it desired. It was too late to stop. It couldn't stop.

Cardboard boxes and German dictionaries.

Its programming wasn't made for this. It wasn't built for this.

Talking plants and cheesy songs.

It couldn't feel like this.

Specialised gloves and marble cake.

Destiny had to pull it and its creator apart someday.

Chocolate gelatos and melodic violins.

Whatever was missing, it couldn’t last long inside a hologram.

Burning hearts.

I ҉lo̸ve͟ y͘o͞u.̷

Oh.

l ov e…

It was love.

l ov e

That's what was missing.

love love love

Love would kill him.

“Fünf! Vier!”

It’d come too far to go back now.

“Drei! Zwei!”

Maybe in another life.

“Eins!”

Simon couldn't smile if he was dead.

“You're real to me.”

It didn't want to go. It was afraid. The nothingness was vast and daunting. But if Simon would continue to smile…

…it would be enough.

At least the hologram had found its answer before it died.

* * *

So many things happened, and so quickly too. When Mr. Riley and his men in charge opened the door, they sent in firefighters. Mr. Riley was under the disguise of a caring father, pretentious that he wasn’t the one who risked his child’s life to destroy something that meant so much to him.

A blanket was draped over Simon’s head while he sat on his father’s car, and he kept his hand in his pocket to hide two things now purposeless but valuable to him that he was able to save in the fire; Soap’s crumpled piece of sheet music for his song and the hologram’s hard drive. It was impossible to make a new orb for Soap; all his blueprints were ingested by the fire and some parts he used were the last in the world.

Mr. Riley, fine sight he had, had stolen the hard drive away and stepped on it. Simon didn’t dare speak a word to the man throughout the ride.

The man dropped him off at the family house. Before Simon closed the car door, he said the last thing he’d probably say as his son.

“It’s never worth it,” he told him as he slammed the car door with an open window. “When you’re always perfect.”

* * *

Two years later…

Glossy marble floors and strings of ivy that hung from the walls accompanied the newly married couple of John and Nikolai Price both in a sharp suit.

And he couldn’t deny he was quaking when he discovered he would play a song for the two newly-weds. Price wanted him to sing and play the same song his hologram friend spent so much time writing and singing. The one Soap sang in the abandoned building and before New Year.

New Year…

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit insensitive,” Price had said. “You don’t have to do it, but I just really love the song!”

“No, it’s fine,” Simon replied. “I’ll sing it. I still have his music sheets hidden somewhere. And I’ve moved on, anyways.”

And now here he was, sitting on a tall chair with a music stand, holding a yellowed music score.

Soap and the human John MacTavish have always been a constant in Simon’s heart: a consistent tremor of music underlining every song Simon has composed, every orchestra he has created. In every single memory of the last six years, both versions of his friend are there, either sitting in the background or smiling in the foreground. Even the moments he was absent from are filled with some distinct piece of him, like the cactus the hologram loved to talk to or the stray med school books on a cardboard box the human used to read.

Simon had played the song every Christmas to himself, and he performed well on his violin. His vocals weren’t the best, but it wasn’t bad either. The song went on smoothly, Price and Nik moving sideways to the tune of the song.

There was silence, and then…

“Wise men say,” It was unexpected, yet a most pleasant surprise when the boy with that sweetly stupid haircut and equally stupid iridescent blue eyes began to sing gently to the melody of the piece's second movement inside his head. “Only fools rush in.”

It was a song Simon knew very well and secretly held great liking to. “But I can't help falling in love with you.”

“Shall I stay?” His voice was like home. It felt safe, familiar. “Would it be a sin,” It reminded him of brighter days when the darkness faded into oblivion.

Cardboard boxes and German dictionaries.

“If I can't help falling in love with you?”

Talking plants and cheesy songs.

“Like a river flows,”

It reminded him of specialised gloves and marble cake.

“Surely to the sea,”

Chocolate gelatos and melodic violins.

“Darling, so it goes,”

Burning hearts.

“Some things aren’t meant to be…”

“Take my hand.” It reminded him of a smiling hologram and glitching hands. "Take my whole life too," Pale skin and awkward laughs. “because I,” Muttered words and warm embraces.

His voice put him in a trance, and that was all it took for him to realise.

Maybe he had misjudged his own feelings. “can't help,”

Ah, that must be it. “falling in,”

His heart skipped a beat. “love,”

It all makes sense now. “with you.”

He stopped singing. He stopped breathing. He just played the violin until the end and heard the claps and cheers as Price and Nik shared intimacy as the newlyweds.

Simon heard, but he didn’t listen.

He was too focused on a little scribble below the final notes, but it was something nonetheless. The hologram’s answer to his own question finally made sense. How ‘love is the answer.’

As the line read:

“For I can’t help falling in love with you,”

- your freund

♡

thank you for those who stuck around this short, 15k word journey! every little notif is treasured dearly; thank you, thank you, thank you.

#cod mwii #cod mwiii #drabble #fanfic #fic #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #cod modern warfare

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iobartach · 4 months

Text

@desuetmort // one-liner thing

A door slides open to permit entrance, placing him in sight of waiting faces that were largely unknown to him. Growing accustomed to this part of the job had taken time, but the benefits were more than worth the effort expended-- provided those involved behaved, anyway.

"I'm sorry, have you got something to share?" Interrupting himself, Miguel cut himself short to address a disruption, having registered the sounds of a giggle arising unexpectedly whilst he was in the middle of welcoming everyone. After a moment of searching, scarlet hues came to rest on a potential suspect, his mouth spreading open in a showing of gritted teeth as he continued to speak in a terse tone.

"By all means, enlighten us."

#desuetmort #verse; trasnaigh an rubaicón #hey rohan time to finally break out that spiderverse au of yours 👀#i figured this is a first meeting thing #and i am so sorry that he's a bit briary tgyhuj

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mintsuwu · 2 years

Text

A Night To Remember (A Moonshine Mob One-Shot)

Before I begin I just want to clarify that this is purely based on headcanons, neither the names, backstories or personalities are canon! This in particular takes place before the events of Cuphead and the DLC. On another warning, there are some swears and alchohol mentions included in this fic. I also apologize if there are any gramatical mistakes since English is not my native language. Thank you for reading.

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The tinkle of a bell was heard as the door of the cabaret opened. However the place was emptier than the rest of the nights, and the individual who had just entered knew perfectly well the reason for that: there was no show that night. Well actually, there was one, but it was just a bunch of musicians playing background music to give atmosphere to the establishment.

His gaze subtly swept the inside, and he actually had brief eye contact with some of the other people who were around the place. Good looking or wealthy people were the majority of the clientele, and it was rather intimidating to say the least... But after a few moments he thought he saw someone familiar, sitting in front of a bar. Drinks were plentiful around the area and there was no customer who was around that didn´t have a glass or cup in hand while chatting among themselves. But unlike the rest, that figure was sitting alone and in her hand there was a glass of what seemed of be some sort of whiskey, being gently swung between her fingers for pure entertainment.

The young insect gulped and began to walk through the crowd. As he advanced he felt his nerves on edge, but because he didn't even know how to talk to the girl he was walking towards. She was not a stranger, far from it. In fact she was his maid for a while, but that felt unbelievable seeing how elegant she was dressed in that very moment, with red predominating in her clothing, a passionate color for a passionate evening, perhaps... Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the bump he had with one of the people who were there.

"Hey, watch where you're going, clumsy!"

In sheer nervousness, he politely lifted his hat in apology and continued on his way until he was right behind the lightbug. The motion of her glass stopped, but she didn't turn... While he couldn't get the words out, he was too tense to say anything to break the ice. An ankward silence took place between the two... And just as he was going to speak, he was interrupted.

"...He's not coming, is he?"

That question caught him off guard, but in reality she had made a point. The date was at eight but he had been exactly one hour and eight minutes late, he had checked it on his pocket watch just as soon as he entered the cabaret... Suspiciously late to say the least.

"N-No."

The caterpillar replied tersely as he laced his fingers awkwardly.

"I-I'm terribly sorry, miss."

"No need to apologize, Clyde. I actually expected this to happen."

She sounded oddly calm for being dumped on what could have been her first date, but it was hard to tell if the feelings between Lucille and his friend's were even mutual. On the spider´s side? Sure, he fell in love with her beauty and voice, but so far the only thing he got from her in return was nearly dying for some shady deal she was involved in. Of course this lady was dangerous, and even though she regretted what she did and even tried to make up for her mistake by saving the guy... Neither Gadget nor himself could trust her completely. But he actually felt some sorrow for the situation she found herself in.

"I-I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt your f-feelings! It's just that well, he's b-busy…"

"Of course..."

Still not turning around, she reached for the glass to her lips and finished the drink in one gulp before setting it down on the bar in clear frustration. The waiter that was there filled the glass for her almost inmediately then.

"Anyway, thanks for telling me. You can go now."

It was sudden, but he knew that he had already fulfilled his mission... Why did he feel bad then? Clyde slowly took off his hat as he tried to think of something until his antennae went up as an idea occurred to him.

"Well, and... A-Are you going to stay here? I mean... If you want I-I stay with you for a while-!"

Just then Lucille spun around quickly, grabbing Clyde by the collar of his shirt and yanking him roughly.

"DO YOU THINK I NEED YOUR STUPID COMPANY?!?"

And she just started shaking him like a maraca.

"YOU ARE UGLY, WEAK, AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITHOUT STUTTING AT ANY TIME! DO YOU REALLY THINK I'D WANT TO BE WITH SOMEONE LIKE YOU?!"

"AAAH! W-W-W-WAIT I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE NICE! Y-YOU KNOW SO YOU DIDN'T FEEL LONELY..!"

Lucille's movements ceased instantly and she then looked at the caterpillar as if she had been offended by the comment, but she was trying to keep her pride afloat with a cheeky smile all the same.

"Me, feel lonely? Ha! Please I can go with whoever I please! I appreciate your compassion but I don't need it, I can always find another man who is a thousand times better than you~"

Well, Clyde didn't think she was wrong at all, but even though she was clearly drunk, he wondered if she was saying those things due to the effects of the alcohol, because of the frustration that she was trying to hide, or if she really would be able to say such harmful things even when she was sober. He really didn't know what to say, but he had slowly frowned, though not exactly out of offense towards him... And quickly snatched Lucille's drink and finished it in just a couple of seconds.

"H-HEY, That was my drink!"

"W-Well too bad! I guess Gadget didn't miss anything important in that case."

"...Excuse me? How is that even related to this?"

"Y-You just said it! I don't need him, I can find other men! S-S-So if you don't need Gadget, neither does he."

"I didn't mean-"

"Oh I-I-I know what you meant missy!"

Suddenly he took another step, closing the distance between them while raising a finger in the air authoritatively.

"Y-You think my friend is like a toy, don't you? You stretch it, throw it and do whatever you want with it until BAM! BROKEN! J-Just because you are a... A..."

The girl was practically cornered at that point, but she crossed her arms as she realized that whatever insult he was going to hurl at her face, the guy couldn't tell her. So with a snap of her fingers the waiter at the bar served them another glass, and she handed it to Clyde with a mocking air. But despite this he did not hesitate to drink it, he needed the push.

"AH, T-Thank you! As I was saying... J-Just because you are the boss' little brat, it doesn't mean you have to get away with everything you want or do!"

Lucille gasped loudly upon hearing that, and even placed a hand upon her fluff collar in a dramatic way.

“BRAT?! How DARE YOU! You know nothing about me!”

“W-Well maybe I don´t, but I know you are working for the-”

She quickly covered Clyde's mouth before he could reveal anything, though that act clearly made the waiter look at them suspiciously.

"I'm just a poor girl trying to make a living, and unlike YOU I do not depend on someone else!"

"L-L-Liar! Take that back!"

"But it's true, and if it were a lie you'd be living alone! Ooooh wait a minute, I understand what's going on here... You're jealous!"

"J-Jealous of what?"

"Of me of course~"

And suddenly it was the light bug who swiped the cup to drink.

"You're afraid that Gadget will end up falling in love with me, he joins us and leaves you alone, right?"

"And the b-b-b-bitch went on and on! The world doesn't revolve around you, princess! A-At least I didn't fool him!"

"Well, maybe I did, but they made me do it AND I saved his life anyway!"

"I KNOW but just because of that you can't expect him to just... F-F-Forget what happened! He has the right to be upset, and you know what? Maybe... M-Maybe that's why he didn't want to come tonight. And I think that after wasting one hour of my time on trying to find you to let you know, I-I don't have to deal with this crap! Maybe if you weren't so selfish he would have changed his... M-Mind..."

Clyde blursted out before trying to ease himself, as he was clearly agitated. But then he looked at Lucille... And she was speechless in all of a sudden, her head and antennae hung low. The caterpillar suddenly felt the weight of his words pilling up.

"I... L-Look I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I-I-I just..!"

The lady, however, would slowly rise up her hand, as if telling him to stay silent. There was a smile on her lips, but it was clearly fake.

"I told you, I expected that... Doofus not to come anyway. But hey, his loss I guess~ I-I wouldn't have wanted to spend the night with his judging gaze upon me anyway."

The tone of her voice turned down, it felt bitter, dissapointed even.

"And even if that was the case... Who does he think he is?! Just because he's big, strong, a literal HUNK and is kind hearted deep down doesn't mean that he has the right to... H-He could have at least told me about it."

And suddenly she was silent, as if she was thoughtful and with her eyes looking into space. But she looked at the glass in her hand for a second, empty again... It was in that moment of apparent calm that Clyde stepped in front of her, approaching her carefully.

"I-I think... I think you should stop drinking, Lucille."

She glanced at him, then at the glass... Her rosy lips trembled for a moment before she finally nodded slightly, and that seemed to relieve Clyde momentarily. Then they left the cabaret and since it was a good night they decided to walk for a bit, even if it was just to get some air.

"H-Hey I... I-I'm really sorry about before. I don't know what happened to me."

Surprisingly, Lucille giggled slightly at this, leaving the young man a little stunned.

"Well, holding back emotions will lead to them bursting out in the end, don´t you think?"

"I-I guess you're right, but... I don't know, it feels bad..."

"Hm... You know? I think I understand you, you want to throw things in someone's face but... You can't."

"...Does the same thing happen to you sometimes?"

"Arguably..."

Lucille looked around and spotted a tall building, composed of offices, apparently.

"But let's change the subject... What if we go up there?"

"S-Somewhere so tall?"

"Of course! Didn't you say you wanted to keep me company? Well, this is your chance. But let´s go get something done first~"

...

Before long the two of them were running away from a couple of cops while carrying some bottles with them. There was a cellar nearby, so they had gone there... But since they had no money with them, they had no choice but to get the drinks and get out of there as soon as fast as they could (even though Clyde had insisted on that plan not being a good idea MULTIPLE times).

“STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU THIEVES!”

"L-Lucille, w-w-when I said that if I could keep you company, I didn't mean this…!”

“Hahaha! Come on Clyde, don´t be a partypooper! This is fun!”

“Y-YOU CALL THIS FUN?!?”

The chase went on for a long time, but they managed to outrun the cops and return to the building they had seen earlier. And once they reached the top they sat down together to chat and drink more calmly. Although Clyde couldn't explain how she decided to climb up instead of flying despite having wings, yet he didn´t think much of it once he got carried away with the conversation and probably the effects of the alcohol. It seemed unbelievable that the same shy and insecure caterpillar as before was now laughing so much from time to time.

"So the young man didn´t drink, huh~? What would your super friend say if he saw you like this?!"

"H-He would probably be freaking out and looking at me with those googly eyes, it would be h-hilarious, hahaha! He's always on edge, and I told him to take a vacation a thousand times. B-But n-no! He's stubborn as a mule!"

"Oh, it shows... In all the time that I spent working for you I didn't see him sleep at any time! No wonder he has those dark circles around his eyes..."

Lucille took a not-so-small drink from one of the bottles, and once she was done she handed it to Clyde, who did exactly the same.

"I-I thought hiring you would take... S-Some weight off of him! He's always doing everything, i-it´s kind of unfair... Even if he says he doesn´t mind or feel t-tired at all. He´s like my father, if he had taken good care of me."

"Didn't he, now?"

"N-N-Not really..."

He paused to look at the bottle he had just drank from.

"Let's say they didn't pay much attention to my basic needs... They looked down on me for taking so long to mature, among other things. Y-Yet here I am...!"

"But... Aren't you young still?"

"...Yes, but I should have done the metamorphosis a while ago, my siblings did it back when they were teenagers. I imagine that you also went through the transformation around that age."

"And you may be right... But hey, so what if you're still a caterpillar? At least you're fast! What a run you had before, if you were a criminal it would be hard to catch you~"

"W-W-Wait... But I don't want to-"

"I´m just kidding, wormy~!"

Lightbug laughed, and Caterpillar did so as well despite not having really understood why they were laughing about, but it was genuine at least... Once they took a moment to breathe, they looked at the stars above them. Lucille seemed to be specially keen on them, but there was a hint of melancholy on her eyes.

“H-Hey... Can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hm...”

“W-Why... Did you join them? You know, the mob... Are you happy- Being forced to do stuff?”

“That´s... A pretty good question, actually. What if I told you... That I don´t know? Marvin just took me in so how could I deny it..? Where else would have I gone? I was just an orphan kid back then.”

“T-That would be a pretty weird answer, i-if you ask me...”

“Pfff- You´re weird!”

She said teasefully while giving him a gentle nudge, but she had to think about the question a bit afterwards... It was actually the first time that someone asked her such a thing.

“But, I mean... There is nothing else I could have done anyway, all I have is a pretty face... Which is not that useful.”

“Well it was useful for Gadget, so...~”

Clyde rolled his eyes to the side as a mischeavous grin appeared on his face, while Lucille suddenly lit up. He could tell since the light on her abdomen was pretty bright, and in fact he was about to look back at her but was interrupted by her hand squishing his face.

“F-Fwaph? I fouph it fwould mafe fhou haphy thou heaw!”

“Y-You fool, don´t give me high hopes!”

From the corner of his eye he could see her blushing bright as well, and that only caused him to chuckle lightly before she let go of him and crossed her arms.

“I´m just being honest! A-And you´re really talented too, Lucille, even if you can´t see it. M-Maybe you and Gadget h-have to work things out but that doesn´t mean it´s the end! Y-You just gotta figure out h-how.”

“Easy for you to say, there is no way he is going to look at me in the eye after what happened...”

“...Maybe if you give him time, you know, show him how you really feel- G-Gosh are you okay? Y-Y-You look like you´re about to explode!”

“YEAH I´M FINE! You just sound just like my dad, jeez-”

“The snail?”

“Uh... No, the Anteater. WELL he´s not my father really, none of them is but- You know what I mean right? Don´t tell him anything about what I just said!”

The caterpillar seemed to have understood that, though he stared at her for a bit, which made Lucille squint a bit. What would he even be thinking about? The way he looked at her without saying a word was utterly awkward, another uncomfortable silence was taking place... Until-

“So... You have two dads?”

“...”

“N-NO I DON´T-!”

And after going through various trivial matters and finishing the bottles... Dawn was about to come. In the end they had spent almost the entire night up there and the time had come when they both had to say goodbye.

"You know...I-I'm surprised you lasted...all night!"

"Hahaha, who's to say, eh-eh? HIC! H-It's been fun!"

"Hehe, we should... hang out more! D-Do you want me to walk you home? You're like, super drunk..."

"N-Nonono! I'm fIIIiiine!"

Clyde struck a proud pose just before he staggered, but he took advantage of that jolt to start on his way.

"B-Bye HIC! Lucecillaa~!"

He yelled at the top of his lungs as he waved his hat in farewell. Although he received an enraged shout from a distance, probably from someone who told him to shut up. But at that moment, Clyde didn't care about anything at all. After wandering around a lot and getting lost on more than one occasion, the caterpillar managed to return home.

Meanwhile, in the depths there was a small work area in which it seemed that there was someone... A spider was dozing with its head lying on the table, even its stifle had fallen. Of course he seemed exhausted, it would be a real shame if someone woke him up-

“GADGEEET, YOU BIG JERKIE~!!”

The inventor jumped up, feeling like he nearly had a heart attack (in fact he had to put a hand to his chest). He turned quickly to see his friend in an unusual state.

"Don't scream so loud, dammit! Where have you been?! I've been waitin´ for you all night!"

"Same as Lucille if HIC! I-I wouldn't have gone to tell her!"

"What? What the hell are you talkin´ about-"

Gadget frowned and approached Clyde to sniff him.

"Wait a minute... You stink of alcohol! Have you been drinkin´?!"

"Hehehe, c-could beeerrr~!"

At the same moment he said that, the spider began to frisk him, checking that nothing had been stolen from him while he was drunk. But everything seemed to be in its place, surprisingly, and he didn't seem to have any injuries either.

"E-Eeeey, DON'T BE RUDE~!"

And among all the caterpillar's belongings, he found a paper... Which surprised him to say the least. He actually took it and stared at it for a few seconds, as if stunned, while the caterpillar threw himself on a hammock made of cobwebs that was practically intact due to the little use that was given to it.

"T-That'sss for you~!"

The spider seemed to snap out of his strange trance and looked at the caterpillar as he set the paper aside.

"No way, she left it in your jacket, not mine."

"Of course... B-Because you were a fool and didn't go to see her y-yesterday, she was waiting for y-you."

"..."

Clyde took a deep breath as he raised a hand to the ceiling.

"L-Look... You went t-too far man, and r-regardless of what she did to you, y-maybe you should give the girl a chance. I-I don't completely trust her either b-but... We both know that maybe, if-if she tries... She can be good d-deep down."

"...What are you now, a philosopher? Clyde, you´re drunk off your ass, stop speakin´ nonsense!"

"Y-You don't need to get like that because it bothers you to hear the t-truth."

"Yes, of course, that may be it... Come on, don't tell me about one of your soap operas."

"GADGET FLYMAN! I-I'm being... C-Completely serious!"

The spider sighed and simply shook his head, heading towards the exit of the room, understanding thar it was not worth arguing with someone who was visibly drunk. But just before he could leave, his friend's voice stopped him one last time. Clyde now had the piece of paper with Lucille's phone number on it and was flapping it slightly in a mocking way. When did he even get up to get it?

"Gadget... I-I-I know I'm up to the antennae with alcohol and you won't hold it against me much but... Reconsider it, y-yeah? Or at least talk things over and try not to hold grudges... "

Gadget moved a hand to the nape of his neck, caressing it a little while before letting it slip down over his face.

"O-Ow, and... C-Could you bring me a coffee? T-To see if it takes away my h-hangover..."

"...I'll keep it in mind."

It was the last thing Gadget said before leaving and going upstairs without saying anything else.

"W-What will you, calling Lucille or my coffee?"

But he received no response besides a deadly silence.

"...G-Gadget?"

...

"GADGET?!?"

#moonshine mob #cuphead delicious last course #oneshot #fanfic

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birboon · 9 months

Text

CIRCUS BOY

ACT 1 - Chapter Two

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Dick Grayson

WORD COUNT: ~4k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: chapter 1

ㅤㅤㅤHE COULD PRACTICALLY feel his heart stop. It was like a blackhole, the quiet that followed as Dick's mouth fell open in an attempt to take back the heinous mistake that just slipped from it.

"Wait! No, I mean- that's not..." Dick tried helplessly to correct himself, arms falling to his side miserably as he trailed off. The stranger's face twisted uncomfortably, mouth swinging shut with a clack of his teeth. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Does that mean I don't have to answer?" The other boy questioned, and he sounded just as scared and off-put as Dick felt. He shifted slightly in his seat.

"Not unless the answer's 'I want to'," the Grayson boy grinned before he could stop himself and oh boy. What was wrong with him? He quickly stumbled over himself to back-track as his ears picked up on what he'd just said. "Okay no, that was- I'm so sorry, I promise I'm not a creep I just..."

Brown eyes pooled with confusion as they watched him suffer and Dick had to glance away, feeling oddly spited. Was this what embarrassment felt like? He couldn't see his own face, but if it reflected any of the disgust written on the other boy's Dick just knew it wasn't a good look on him.

"Look," he tried to awkwardly adjust, "it's a long story and this guy – not my dad, I mean he's like my dad but not? Anyway, we're not related – we were... there was this button and – oh god, can I blame this on jet lag please?"

"Jet lag?"

Dick miserably sucked in a breath of air, scratching at his temple. "I flew in from Gotham like three hours ago."

"You're from Gotham," the stranger reiterated, staring at him blankly. Their posture straightened, the knowledge that Dick was a Gothamite even more of a reason to get ready to run. "And you want to have an orgy... with me?"

"What! I just told you I didn't -"

"Not with me, then?" the other teen breathed out, relieved, and Dick watched the terse muscles in his shoulders relax some beneath his nerdy t-shirt. Dick felt the scowl creeping onto his face before he could prevent it, folding his arms across his chest. "With Liz?"

"That's all you got from that whole thing?" He asked, perturbed and only slightly confused. "That I'm some weirdo-freak from Gotham desperate for a quickie with a bunch of strangers?"

The boy stared at him with wide, owlish eyes. "Are you?"

"No!" Dick snapped, dropping his arms to his side as he resisted the urge to throttle the kid.

"Oh," they replied, and Dick was beginning to get some serious dejavu. If the conversation - could it even be called that? - was going to keep going in these circles of confused shame, he didn't think he wanted to stay much longer.

"Right," he parroted the other boy's previous words. "Oh."

Silence over came them for a moment, broken only by the clattering of ceramics that could be heard, dimmed by the swinging doors to the café's kitchen. The other boy - the dude who wasn't a model but totally could be - had fallen to quietly fiddling with the yellow blazer thrown over the arm of the couch beside him. It clashed horribly with the red leather but Dick didn't feel incredibly inclined to point that out, considering how badly every other attempt to open his mouth had gone with this guy around.

In fact, past forgetting the route to wherever the hell Teen Vogue had set up their makeshift studio, Dick didn't even know why he was still stood there. Other people were around, he could probably go back down and ask the receptionist again. It was highly probable that one of the staff on this level would know where he was supposed to go. Dick could just leave, forget all about this encounter and bow his head with shame when Alfred asked why #DickGraysonTheSexAddict was trending.

Except, he couldn't leave. He was planted to the spot, and not in a fun way. His traitorous body had chosen this moment to give up on itself, apparently.

"What's your name?" Dick queried suddenly, attempting to channel focus back on the other boy. He wasn't particularly interested, but it was easier to make him do all the talking rather than have Dick make even more treacherous mistakes.

"Peter..." The tiniest of voice cracks was audible, and Dick furrowed his brow.

"Don't look so scared, dude. I'm from Gotham but we're not all homicidal maniacs," he said, and Peter turned towards him finally. "I'm not going to track you down or whatever you're afraid of."

"I never said you would!" Peter shot back defensively. He shrunk back into the plush leather with a carefully calculated look in his eyes. "But you did just throw yourself at me and one of my classmates, so forgive me for being cautious!"

"Idid not throw myself at you!"

"You asked if I was a model and invited me to your orgy!"

"There is no orgy!" Dick clasped his mouth shut, lips pressed tightly together as he looked away in frustration. He let out a long, irritated sigh through his nose. "I thought you were a model because I'm a model. Sorta."

"Wait, what? You're a- how can you sorta be a model?" Peter asked, exasperated, and Dick was just about done with the teen. "And why'd you think I was one?"

Dick quirked an eyebrow. "Are you fishing for compliments or something? Because you don't have to, I've already said you're pretty -"

Peter's eyes widened and he pointed to Dick, confounded: "See? You just did it again!"

"Did what? I am - How am I the confused one here?" Dick whined. This interaction had been cursed from the start.

"You're trying to... I don't know, use you're weird supermodel wiles to seduce me!"

Dick scoffed, taking a step back to appraise the other teen. "Don't give yourself too much credit," he sniffed, honeyed gaze travelling over what looked to be incredibly soft hair and a lovely jaw. "... is it working?"

Peter reeled backwards, knees coming up to tuck beneath him as his eyebrows shot into his hairline: "Wha- n-no!"

"Well then. It's not worth the effort, is it? You've got nothing to be scared of," Dick announced boldly, tilting his chin upwards to give him some semblance of dignity. "Trust me. And, just so you know, if I ever do have an orgy you definitely won't get an invite."

The other boy looked caught between embarrassed and hurt. Dick didn't know what to make of it. This was a very peculiar experience. It wasn't often he was caught on the back foot like this, off his guard and at a loss of something worth-while to say. When had Dick last messed up a first impression so badly? He couldn't recall a particular moment...

It was strangely disconcerting.

Peter no-surname was staring up towards the Grayson boy like he'd grown an extra head. He seemed so inconvenienced by Dick's just being there that if looks could kill, the boy was surely out for murder. It wasn't the most uplifting thought.

If the universe were kinder, perhaps it would've given him an out, then and there. The swing of an opening door to signal where he was supposed to go, or one of the other teen's classmates stepping from the elevator to come and get him. Which, Dick supposed, was another question altogether. What the hell was he doing on the second floor of this building when the rest of his 'field-trip' were gathered downstairs?

Kinda sketchy, if you asked Dick. Which... no one did. Because the universe wasn't kind, and it left little Dick Grayson standing awkwardly alone; like a child in his parent's doorway to tell them he'd wet the bed. And the scathing looks being sent his way every so often - scattered but still effective - only added to the effect.

"Why're you still here?" Peter asked eventually, sighing as though bored of the little game they were playing of 'who's going to break first'. Dick won, obviously. "Don't you have some GQ cover to be on or something?"

The corners of Dick's mouth quirked up despite himself: "Vogue, actually. I only spoke to you because I thought you could help. Which, y'know, evidently..." He made a small sweeping gesture towards himself. "Still lost."

"Yeah, uh, I can see that," Peter cleared his throat, eyes flicking away. "I don't actually know this building so..."

"I never would've guessed," Dick hummed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He leaned towards Peter devilishly, voice lowering to a sneer. "Mister Field-trip himself, full of nothing but facts."

The other boy sniffed, almost a laugh. "I'm actually very smart."

"I'm sure you are."

"I've won awards in science."

"I'm sure you have."

"I have an internship with Tony Stark."

"I'm sure you do."

And that, apparently, was the straw that broke the camel's back for Peter the not-model. After all of the teasing and it was the snipe about Ironman that made the other teen finally snap... Not that Dick could blame him. Frankly, he was amazed the boy was still speaking to him after his mortifying first impression. If someone had approached Dick the way he'd approached Peter, he would've called the police.

"Look, Can you just go and find someone already?" Peter said eventually and dramatically, a wistful sigh escaping him. Dick watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I came here to be alone, not to hang out with strange sex addicts from Gotham."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Am I harshing your mellow?" Dick snickered, striding forward to loop around the back of the couch Peter was sitting on. The other teen stiffened. "Cutting into your moment of self reflection?"

Peter grimaced like he'd been caught, eyes trained on the pocket of his yellow blazer. "Something like that, yeah."

Dick held his tongue between his teeth, warm eyes taking in the look on the boy's face. He knew when to quit. Working with Bruce taught him to read even the smallest of mannerisms, spot the slightest change in facial expressions. It had been fun, their little back and forth. But all signs pointed to Peter being tired of his presence.

So, Dick gave in with a sigh. "Alright. Well, I hope- alright."

"Seriously?" Peter said, almost unhappily. Dick paused, feet stuck in reverse. "Just like that?"

"That's all it takes," Dick acknowledged with a small smile. Peter frowned, and Dick followed suit. "What, do you want me to stay? I do have places to be you know. I'm a busy guy, my time's highly sought after."

"No," Peter replied quickly with just a little too much heat in is voice. "I just wish I'd known how to get rid of you sooner."

Dick's eyes softened. "Gee, thanks. Nice to meet you too, Peter."

"No I- I didn't mean it like that!" Dick grinned towards him. This conversation really was just going around in a circle, wasn't it? "I only meant..."

"I get it," Dick replied. "Don't stress. I'll catch you later, Mister Field-trip."

"Right... bye."

Dick could feel Peter's eyes on him as he headed down one of the connected corridors on a dime. They were a heavy weight on his back, and as soon as he was out of sight Dick let out a shaky breath. What the hell was that about? One of the strangest good-byes he'd ever had the pleasure of... well, you get the picture. There was something odd about that Peter. And it wasn't just that he somehow wasn't a model.

The Grayson tiptoed his way through a set of solid oak double-doors, scouring the level for any sign of a makeup artist or stray lighting designer. So what if he had to pause and fully understand the embarrassing situation he'd just put himself through? To go back over the weird conversation shared? He'd find the studio eventually.

He was Richard Grayson. Vogue would wait.

WHEN HE'D ACCEPTED the offer, they'd said it was only a shoot for Teen Vogue. No one had mentioned that Vanity Fair would be turning up too, or that Times magazine would join the party with a fresh-faced reporter. They'd been trying for weeks now to get a quote on his predictions for their 'person of the year' issue releasing later that month like he was some sort of celebrity-picking groundhog. Bruce was winning, simple as that - they didn't need Dick to tell them that.

Now, Dick enjoyed being in the public's eye but... maybe - and he'd never admit this to the man himself - he was starting to understand why Bruce didn't. It could be grating. He usually loved photoshoots: Key word being usually. This one, though, was turning out to be quite the drag.

He liked to watch the people around him work, liked to appreciate the different skills each person had. It was almost like observing a colony of ants: Everyone had a place, a job, a thing only they could do. It was a well-oiled machine and it worked well. Dick had always been taught to sit and survey people - that you can find out all there is to know about someone by the way they bite their fingernails or tie their shoelaces. 'Personality is in the details' Bruce would say, and Dick would agree. Except at that very moment he was struggling to stick to his teachings.

He just really wasn't feeling this one.

It was- It was going alright. Working with a big-shot company like Vogue was always just alright. Mechanical and robotic, no one being too warm or too open, unwilling to risk their jobs by saying the wrong thing to the wrong client. But it was bad luck on his part that Dick was feeling like shit.

After the mess with Peter - which now, looking back, the awkwardness felt like a blessing compared to this - and after hours spent in front of the blank white photography screen, Dick was beginning to ache. Staring into the crystal lens of the camera, grinning his spell-binding rich-boy smile, he felt like he was drowning.

Which meant the pain meds Bruce had him take on the plane ride over were wearing off. And that meant he was beginning to feel every little tear in his muscles, every twinge that was slowly but surely seeping through into his bones.

He was thankful the wardrobe he was given held nothing too open-collared. He could only imagine the chaos that would unfold if the gaggle of stylists caught sight of the blossoming purple and black blooming over his clavicles like a morbid pair of backward wings. Already he'd had to deal with the makeup artists fretting over the small gauge on his eyebrow - easily hidden, but he'd seen the concerned glances they'd exchanged secretively. It wouldn't do to give them even more to gossip about.

Dick was struggling to keep his smile plastered on, teeth clicking together neatly as he tried to avoid a grimace every time the photographer attempted to move him like a pawn on the chess board. The guy was handsy, forceful and Dick really did not enjoy being manhandled.

"If you could just- tilt your head, yes just like that Mister Grayson. Just like that, now don't move..."

The shutter of the camera came down and bombarded him with a light so bright he could only compare it to a stun grenade. Dick tried not to flinch as the photographer moved away and others filed in to take his place, like a stream of rushing water. A woman came forward to attack his face with all her soft brushes, dusting more highlight onto his cheekbones and curling a lock of brown hair around her finger. It bounced in a curl over his forehead as she retreated, swept away from the white background, and he was passed into the ready hands of another.

"How'd that one come out?" Dick murmured as he was ushered off the photography screen for a wardrobe change. The photographer - he had introduced himself, but all Dick could remember of the interaction was how sweaty the man's palms were - smiled widely, tilting the monitor of a MacBook towards him as his camera crashed gently against his chest. Dick nodded, eyes grazing over the image carelessly as he was dragged by the cuff towards a rack of clothes. "Very good, thank you."

He began to shrug the light jacket from his shoulders, wincing as the muscles rolled beneath his skin. Another man rushed over to take it from him, hooking it on a separate rack as he nimbly filed through the assorted hangings for the next outfit. He worked quickly, pushing a crisp blue Paul Stuart polo into Dick's hands.

"One more change, Mister Grayson, and we're all done here," he said cheerily, deciding intently between two pairs of leather oxfords to match. He frowned as Dick toed off the loafers he was wearing. "Careful with those. They're Alexander McQueen."

"Just one?" he said tiredly, fiddling with bejeweled cufflinks. He met the man's eyes, smiling lazily. "Could we not cut it short? The opening of Bruce's new tower is today and I want to surprise him."

The man looked down, storing away the discarded dress shoes with a shake of his head. "That's... noble, Mister Grayson, but I'm afraid it's not my decision."

"Call me Richard," Dick said with a wink, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. He cast a glance across the room, towards the photographer and his technical team. "Who would I have to sweet talk to get out of this mess?"

"I couldn't say. My work is with the clothes, not the people."

"Of course. Perhaps the photographer, then," Dick muttered. He cast a glance towards the man. "What do you think?"

"I'm sorry?"

"About the photographer?"

"Oh I think he's very good," the stylist replied sincerely. Dick sighed heavily, tugging the new shirt over his head with his body angled towards the railings. It cast a shadow over him, darkening the rest of his skin so the bruising couldn't be discerned. Not unless someone looked a little too closely... Then the bruises would be the least of his problems.

Dick stared over the man's shoulder as he began to sift through piles of seemingly identical tailored trousers, all beige and expensive and so not what he wanted to be wearing. It was high noon, well past midday, and the sun was pushing itself to the limit. It was bordering on 90 degrees outside and here he was; sweating his beautiful ass off because the members of team Vogue couldn't be bothered to spare the expense of LEDs for the lighting on the shoot. Didn't they know lightbulbs got hot?

Dick missed Gotham in all its miserable, rainy glory. It would probably be storming there right now. A cyclone was due to hit the channel between the morbid city and Metropolis just before they'd left. He and the big guy had given the city as good a send off as was possible for two vigilantes running havoc; they'd put the Penguin down yet again (Dick had personally kicked the crazy man back into Arkham). But Bruce hated leaving the city behind, even for a couple days, and so did Dick. It was his home, after all. Gotham needed them as much as they needed her.

He let out another sigh, throwing his head back as the man popped back into his vision with the pants and shoes in hand. Dick clutched the material between his fingers and suffered through a smile as the rest of his wardrobe was handed to him. Just one more. Unless...

"Thank you," he said. The stylist simply smiled and turned away with obvious disinterest now he'd been seen to. Dick chanced a glance towards the doorway. It was practically staring at him, so painfully close. If he could just-

"Mister Grayson, where are you going?" the photographer called, camera poised and ready, and Dick paused awkwardly mid-stride. He lowered his foot to the ground, bare feet toeing at the cold floor. The man was watching him carefully. "We should be finished by the end of the hour."

"Right. That's great. I was just... I need the bathroom, y'know?" Dick smiled deceptively, all teeth and dimpled cheeks. He thought he heard the stylist tut somewhere behind him. "It won't take long but, uh, you know us Waynes! Weak bladders - it runs in the family."

"You're adopted, Mister Grayson -"

"I'd thank you to not bring up my emotional trauma. You know, all this stress is really not helping with down there," Dick replied easily, feigning an attractive frown as he jutted a thumb downwards.

The photographer blanched, face paling. The idea of pissing off Bruce Wayne's ward didn't sit well with anyone - not if they wanted to keep their job. "Of course, I'm so sorry... I- I'm sure a quick break wouldn't hurt. Would you like someone to esco-"

"I'll be fine, thank you," Dick shot back, and he took the man's returning silence as permission to leave. He nodded politely as he slipped from the room, breaking into a quick trot with his change of clothes clutched tightly to his chest.

Of course, he had no interest in returning... but they didn't need to know that. Teen Vogue had enough pictures of him in their back catalogue at this point to last the next five years. They could share with GQ if they really were desperate. Besides, they had photoshop. They'd have to make do.

Dodging any prying eyes that may have attempted to follow, Dick ducked into the women's restroom on the second floor to dump the expensive outfit. Someone was sure to get a nice surprise when they opened the stall to shit and found ten-thousand dollars worth of fine clothes. He'd forgone the thinking-ahead stage of the plan, acting on instinct and against everything Bruce had ever taught him. As such, Dick's bare feet slapped against the wooden floor as he crept back towards - or at least, he hoped it was back towards - the elevator. His phone was clutched in a fist, ready to contact one of the predisposed drivers Bruce had assigned to him: A simple text of 'finished early' would be more than enough reason for them to come speeding down the Washington streets for him.

Dick felt only a twinge of dismay when he arrived back at the café. It really wasn't as hard to find as he'd made it out to be the first time and, this time, there was no Peter to tide his mind as he waited for the numbers on the elevator to count down. Something in his gut curled a little, like irritation but... not. It's not like he was mad or anything. He wasn't astonished at the revelation that Peter not-model-no-surname was gone - it had been a couple hours, it would have been strange if the school group hadn't moved along.

Still, some of the elation coursing through his veins at his escape from the torturous photoshoot died a little as he waited silently.

[...] to be continued

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