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cowboydisaster · 4 months

Note

For the Christmas countdown!

Dutch sends reader and Arthur to find the perfect Christmas tree for camp. Reader says she knows a place near Colter. But they get lost, and what’s that? One bed? Needing to share body warmth? What ever could go wrong 😈😈 as smutty as you find comfortable to write behe

* ˚ ✦ Ceasefire * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 2.8k a/n: One bed trope is elite. love this prompt. Arthur is a little toxic in this one ngl. probably med. honor. I aint gonna lie gang, this is fucking FILTH. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, dubcon

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: FOUR days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur kicks the old door in, nearly crumbling the rotten thing before sticking his lantern into the worn down cabin. No words are exchanged as he ushers you though the threshold, slamming the door behind you both.

The storm outside is brutal, battering the sides of the cabin, sounding like bullets pelting the walls. Hail and snow beat down on the roof, carried by whipping, whistling winds. Even in your wool coat, your limbs feel like ice, your fingers and toes numb.

The cabin you’re entering is old and creaky. The wind seems to whisper through the walls eerily, letting cold air soak through the cracks and wrap around you. You shiver, walking through the main room, pushing open a squealing door to reveal one small bedroom with one tiny bed. You nod, figuring as much. It’s the only door in the house, so you avert your attention back towards Arthur, knelt before the fireplace. He's digging through the wood by the mantle, grunting and sighing angrily to himself. A tense silence continues between you and Arthur– it hangs in the air like static electricity, and you’re just waiting for it to strike.

“Arthur, I'm sorry.” You whisper, arms pulling your coat tighter around yourself.

“Kinda late for apologizin’, considerin’ our circumstances, dont’cha think?” Arthur growls, finding a few pieces of dry wood and tossing them into the wood keeper in the fireplace.

“I knew where I was goin.” You argue coldly, anger rising up the back of your neck, making the hair stand. Arthur shakes his head, avoiding your eye contact as he lights a kindle.

“Oh, you did, did you? Then you mind tellin’ me why in the hell we’re stranded in the middle of god-knows-where, then? N’ on Christmas Eve? Dutch sent us to get a goddamn tree and thanks to you, we ain't even got one.” Arthur growls, voice finally rising, even though he’s been trying to keep his composure since you admitted you were lost.

“I– Well you got me all turned around when you took us to the trapper!” You yell, pointing your finger at him angrily, “I had us on the way and then you just had to take us off on some wild fuckin’ goose chase. What even was so important that we had to take an hour-long detour anyway?! How are you gonna blame me when you had to drag me across the state just to what?! Sell a fuckin’ pelt? Make some more money for old Dutch?”

“No!” Arthur roars, standing up from his position on the floor. His anger flares up at your ignorance, “I was savin’ up money to buy your christmas gift—to buy you that goddamn saddle you wanted!!” Arthur’s voice reaches a shockingly loud timbre, and your ears ring. You step back, shocked and mortified by your assumption. Words fail you, and you stutter over them, tears already forming in your eyes at what you’ve done.

“Arthur…” You say, tears forming in your eyes as he brushes past you, towards the door, “Arthur, you can’t go out in that storm.” You protest, but he’s already putting his gloves back on, placing his hat on his head.

“Arthur, I'm sorry. Please don’t go out in the storm.” You plead as he pushes the door open.

“I need some damn air.” He hisses, slamming the door back shut in your face.

Your hand covers your mouth, silencing sobs as you watch him leave from the window. You hear Sugar’s cries as Arthur leads Jasper out of the small stable, and you watch as the gray horse carries Arthur out the main drag, his coat blending in with the downpour of snow and ice.

— — —

You roll onto your side, shivering on the single cot. There’s no blankets, so you do your best to keep warm by curling in on yourself and blowing warm air into your hands, down your coat sleeves. Cold tears slip down your face, your worry growing tenfold with every minute that Arthur doesn’t return. If he’s not back within the hour, you’ll go out into the storm to find him.

You glance at the pocket watch that is clutched between your numb fingers, signaling that he’s been gone for an hour and a half. Your heart seizes in your chest. The wind causes the windows to shake and clamber, and every once in a while, you perk up– hoping it’s Arthur coming back to you. But it never is.

A miserable whimper leaves your lips, and you sit up, cross legged on the bed to steal another glance at your watch. The fireplace gives off just enough light to see, and you push yourself up from the bed to start pulling your boots on. You’ll be damned before you let something happen to Arthur out there, not when it's your fault he’s out there in the first place.

Before you can get your boot on, the door swings open loudly. Arthur steps in, shoving the door shut behind him, stripping his big blue coat off and abandoning it on the floor. You let out a breath of relief, tossing your boots aside to run to him.

“Baby- I’m so sorry for hollerin’ at you. I shouldn’t have left ya here.” Arthur rambles, feeling like a fucking fool. You care none, too relieved to see him here. He holds his arm open, catching you just as you run into them, tears of relief flooding your face.

“Oh, I was so worried, Arthur.” You exhale, crumbling against him.. Lucky for you, he’s always been good at piecing you back together.

“Christ, darlin’, you’re freezin’.” Arthur points out, readjusting and scooping you up into his arms. You lie your head against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him, as he carries you back into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have blamed you.” Your voice cracks.

“Don’t matter, now. Now, I just gotta take care of you.” Arthur whispers, and you sigh with relief. He carries you into the bedroom, tenderly placing you down on the bed.

“Lets get your clothes off. They’re wet, gonna get you sick.” Arthur says, worry deep in his eyes as he begins to undress you. He tenderly peels away each layer of clothing, hanging them over the fireplace mantle to dry. Once you’re bared before him, shivering, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm and dry, and it smells like oak and his favorite brand of expensive cigarettes. You inhale the scent deeply.

“Be warmer if I take mine off, too.” He whispers matter of factly, pulling off his own layers, sliding next to you in the bed.

Arthur winces as you cling to him on the bed. Your limbs are like ice against his skin, and he pulls your back to his chest. His arm wraps around your middle, keeping you anchored to him tightly. Your body fits against Arthur’s so perfectly. Like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

A few moments pass by, with Arthur running his fingers over your hip, rubbing his hand down your thigh, waiting for the skin to warm up.

“Any better?” He asks eventually, voice hoarse, waiting for the answer he knows won’t come. You nod your head, but your teeth chatter. You're shaking like a leaf against him.

“Ya trust me?” Arthur asks. Of course, you nod your head. You trust him with your life, “I’ll warm you up.” He whispers.

You shiver, this time not from the temperature as Arthur slides the jacket down over your shoulder blade. He runs his lips across your shoulder, pressing kisses in a line. His lips distract you from his wandering hand, fingertips trailing down your stomach.

You breathe shakily in anticipation as his fingers reach your throbbing cunt. His skin is hot where yours is cold, adding an extra layer of sensitivity. You flinch when his thick finger bumps your sensitive clit.

“Too much?” Arthur whispers between kisses, his hand drawing away from your skin. You nod.

“We got all the time in the world. Jus’ gotta warm you up proper.” Arthur explains. He repositions himself between your legs, pushing your knees up by your ears, spreading you wide for himself.

“Can’t wait to taste you.” Arthur grumbles, pushing your thighs back even more. You grip the sheets in anticipation as he licks the length of your cunt, coating his tongue in your juices, flicking your sensitive bud with his tongue.

Your stomach seizes, and you whimper.

“Yeah, how’s that? Talk to me, darlin’.” Arthur instructs, his nose rubbing against your clit, his tongue sinking into your heat. Arthur’s beard is tickling your thighs, and his fingertips are teasing along your entrance.

“S’good, Arthur.” You exhale loudly. Your body is already warming up. Your skin is flush with want as he teases you. Arthur’s tongue circles back up to your clitoris, flicking over the bud in languid swipes. You taste so fucking good, he could keep you spread like this forever and never get enough. You would have no qualms with that, happily holding his head between your thighs for the rest of eternity.

He wants nothing more than to keep you spread open like this. To taste you, kiss you. To hear you whimpering and calling his name. He wants to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, until you’re sleepy and content and sore. He wants to press his cock into you over and over again, to roll his hips into you, stretch you out, fill you up. He wants to watch his cum leak out of you, just to fuck it back inside.

Arthur’s cock twitches, and he groans, slipping two of his fingers into your aching entrance. Feeling how slick they become when he pulls them out, when he pushes them back in, curling them to hit that spot that makes you sing.

“Arthur–” You moan, back arching off the bed. He wraps his free hand over your stomach, pushing you back down to the mattress, “So good. I– Oh, so fuckin’ good, Arthur.”

He smirks, tongue still flicking over your pink, swollen clit. Sucking it between his lips, grazing it with his teeth. It’s more than you can take.

His fingers curl up, squelching as they rock your own juices back into you, brushing up against your fleshy g-spot, teasing it.

“I-” You gasp, “I’m close, Arthur. I- I can’t it’s too much! Too-” You moan, tears of pleasure slipping down your cheek.

And like the pull of a silk ribbon, he's pulling you undone. You're cumming on his fingers, squeezing them within your tight walls. Your clit is seizing against his tongue as you cry out his name, hands digging into his hair, pushing him further against you. You rock your hips against his face, thighs squeezing his ears. Juices gush around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm. Euphoria wracks your brain, picking you up and carrying you to another plane of existence.

When you come down from it, you’re putty in his arms. Limp.

“Easy, baby. Y’okay?” Arthur asks, hand easing up your waist, purposefully avoiding the spots where you’ll be the most sensitive right now. You nod, hands reaching up to his jaw, gripping him and pulling him down towards you.

“Wanna kiss you.” You manage to murmur, soft as silk before his lips are meeting yours.

You can taste yourself dripping from his tongue. Can feel the sticky wetness on his beard as you pull him impossibly closer. His tongue slips into your mouth, infiltrating your senses with the sweet taste of your arousal.

Goosebumps break out across your stomach as Arthur’s knuckles trail up your waist, his thumb tickling a small circle around your stiff, sensitive nipple. It sends pleasure in shockwaves down through you, and you arch your back, pushing your stomach up against his chest. The hair on his chest teases your flushed skin, adding to the pleasure of it all.

“So goddamn beautiful.” Arthur mumbles, pulling away just to get the words out before he’s against your lips again, devouring you.

“Think you can take me now, darlin?” Arthur whispers, lips moving to your jaw, pressing loud kisses along the sharp line. You hesitate. He’s so big. It takes a lot of preparation.

He senses your worry, and then he’s there, reassuring you, praising you, making you feel so good.

“You can take me.” A kiss to your neck, “You do so good, so perfect. You can take it. My good girl.” Arthur mumbles against your skin, hand slipping between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His fingers slip back into your cunt, first two, then three. You whimper, hands digging into Arthur’s shoulders.

“See? Takin’ my fingers as ya are. My good girl, aint’cha?”

You nod your head, teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “Yes, yes.” You whisper, breathing shakily.

Arthur positions himself over you, slipping his fingers away, and you gasp at the feeling of his thick tip sliding up and down your lower lips. He traces his swollen, rosy tip across your overstimulated clitoris, and your nails dig into his shoulders, a pulse of pleasure rippling up your spine, sending waves down through your bones.

You pay no mind to the weather, to the temperature. It bothers you none now.

His thick, pulsing cock nudges against your entrance, and instinctually you tense, taking in a sharp breath.

“Shh, shh, easy, sweetheart. Relax. You can take it.” Arthur coos against your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's like being swaddled in a heap of comfort, of safety. You know he’d never lie to you, never hurt you.

“Thata girl.” Arthur hums, grunting deeply as he thrusts just the tip into you. You squeeze him tightly, your walls gripping him, pulling him into you. He could do this all day, stretch you open, stuff his cock into your pretty little cunt, press kisses to your lips and your neck and your nose.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it.” He grunts, pushing himself into you even more. Your back arches, stomach filled with pressure and legs spread open wide, “That’s perfect, so good fr’me.” He moans.

“God, Arthur–” You cry out, a whimpering mess when he starts to rock. He’s splitting you in two, filling you so full, you can barely take him all. His length knocks against your g-spot, surpassing it even and stretching to your cervix.

“Feel-” Arthur groans, “Good?”

You tuck your nose against his chest, nodding, “Fuck, so good, Arthur. You’re so big.”

The boost in his ego ramps up his stamina, and he rocks into you harder, sending the headboard crashing against the wall loudly with every thrust. The rhythm is barely noticeable compared to the sound of the hail beating against the roof.

You’re suddenly glad to be stuck out here, if this is the repercussion. You crave his hands on you, his lips against yours. You want him to bend you over the table, take you against the wall, on the floor. You’re content to have him on every surface of this cabin, just to stay wrapped up in this bliss for a little while longer.

“Easy does it, good girl.” Arthur grunts, face covered in a sheen of sweat, dripping down from a strand of his hair, falling onto your breasts. He fills you with every thrust, his cock carving out the shape of your walls, stretching them to wrap around him perfectly. The signature, wet sound of sex fills the room, drowning out even the storm, yet pale compared to the sound of your mixed moans and breathing.

“M’ close-” Arthur grunts, pace growing quick, cock twitching against your walls. You’re getting close, and he’s there too, grunting and squeezing, gripping your soft flesh. He curses, thrusting hard and deep, hips slapping loudly against yours.

It pushes you over the cliff edge with no abandon, and again, you’re free falling, only kept here by the physical tether that is Arthur holding you. Your walls clench and squeeze, constricting around Arthur’s length. He groans beautifully, the sound cathartic to your ears, sending more blood rushing to your gluttonous core.

“Oh– Arthur!” You scream, gasping for air just to release it all back out in a slew of curses and moans. Your back arches high enough off the bed that your breasts slot against Arthur’s chest. Your body shakes, like a star on the verge of explosion, receiving no mercy as Arthur continues to thrust into you. He’s losing his control, caught off guard by the pulsing and fluttering of your second orgasm. You’re squeezing him so tight, and god– the moans you’re letting out are driving him wild—

And then, his warm, thick cum is flooding you, filling you up as he stutters and shakes above you, “F-Fucck, sweetheart. Takin’ me– so damn well.” Arthur groans, hips pumping into you twice more, arms shaking from strain. He pumps the last of his spend into you, groan dying down into a deep rumble in his chest.

He stills, taking deep breaths along with you, eyes slipping shut. His forehead falls against yours, and he presses a sweet, long kiss to your lips. It sends butterflies to your stomach, even after all this. He pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours once again.

“That was–” You begin, catching your breath, “damn.”

Arthur chuckles, “We’ll sleep the rest of the night n’ check out the weather in the mornin’. I don't reckon either of us will be cold.”

You huff a laugh, wincing slightly as Arthur pulls out of you. You grimace as his cum leaks back out.

In a few short moments, Arthur has you clean of him. He lies beside you, head resting on your lower stomach as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“Next time we fight, just skip the runnin’ off, and take me to bed, alright?” You whisper, breaking the calm silence. Arthur exhales sharply.

“Yeah, we’ll do that.” He chuckles, gripping your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“You think Dutch will be pissed about the tree?” You ask, referencing the Christmas tree that you’d failed to bring back to camp.

“He surely will be.” Arthur says, “But, I say-” He presses a kiss to your hip, hand wrapping around the inside of your thigh, “to hell with his christmas traditions,” another kiss, “I like this one better.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

#cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic

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the-banana-0verlord · 1 year

Note

Hi there, I'd like to request something for Twisted Wonderland. Could I get reactions of Leona, Azul, Jade, Vil, and Sebek to a (preferably gender neutral) s/o who's usually pretty thick-skinned and gives as good as they get having a strong reaction to something the character said in an argument? As in, usually in an argument the s/o isn't easily upset, so if they're reacting this badly something must be really wrong. So how would those five characters react if something they said actually seemed to hurt their s/o who usually seems damn near unshakeable? Bonus points if it's the first time they've ever seen their s/o cry and it's their fault >:3c

Thank you for the request! I feel like I made it just “S/O cries during an argument”, but I hope I incorporated enough elements to fit your request!

How the Twst boys would react to their ususally strong S/O crying during an argument.

Notes:Gn reader, The relationships described here are not very healthy, because the boys have toxic traits that make the relationship toxic as well. The argument is about this toxic trait, and the Reader can choose if the boy overcomes it or not.

⚡⚡⚡

Sebek Zigvolt

⚡The argument was about how he always priviledged his duty over you.

⚡He let slip that if he had to choose between Malleus and you, he'd choose Malleus. He didn't mean it, of course, but no one has control of what they say during times like this.

⚡You wondered if he even loved you at all, and the tears flowed.

⚡His booming voice was silenced as he watched you with wide eyes trying to wipe your tears off your face in pride.

⚡He's not the touchy type, but he'll pull you into an akward hug, rubbing your back gently.

⚡“I-I'm sorry. Please don't cry.... I love you more than anything.”

🦁🦁🦁

Leona Kingscholar

🦁Due to his natural laziness, you always felt like he didn't care about you or your relationship.

🦁When you confront him about it, he brushes it off. He knows he loves you, so you should too, right?

🦁He finally realises he's been wrong when you start crying, yelling at him why wouldn't he listen to you for once!

🦁He's never seen you cry before, which makes the shock even greater.

🦁“I know I don't really show it, but I do care, Herbivore. I promise that from now on, I'll be better.”

💅💅💅

Vil Schoenheit

💅You try to keep strong through it, but his constant nitpicking absolutely drives you crazy.

💅He's convinced he's doing it for your own good, but even the best of intentions can lead to disaster.

💅One day, enough is enough, even for you, and you finally snap. He takes it badly.

💅You don't know when it happens, but at one point you realise you've broke down in tears.

💅It's then he knows that he had been wrong for pushing this far. It's his fault the mascara he had obliged you to wear was running down your cheeks.

💅“I'm so sorry love. I had no idea I've pushed you this far. I'll do anything to make it up to you.”

🐙🐙🐙

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙He's always piled up in his work and restaurant. There's always something to separate the two of you.

🐙His ambitions get the the better of him and he sometimes ends up not talking to you for a week or more.

🐙The loneliness creeps in. You go numb and start to ignore him as well. That he sees as a problem.

🐙He confronts you about it. The frustration you've kept in for months breaks through the form of tears.

🐙Crying is something he experienced way too often, and he never wanted you to feel.

🐙“Please... I hate seeing you cry... Name something, anything and I'll do it for you.”

🍄🍄🍄

Jade Leech

🍄He is a master manipulator. More often than not, you view yourself as his puppet, one he can use at will.

🍄You keep the feelings in. You don't want him to think he's won by breaking you.

🍄But what's meant to happen happens, and the feelings spill.

🍄His intentions were never to deceive you. He's surprised when he sees your watered cheeks.

🍄When he tries to embrace you, you struggle, because you think it's another one of his tricks.

🍄Ultimately, the strenght leaves your body and you sob in his arms.

🍄“Shhhh... I love you, okay? I would never lie to you. Never.”

***

Hope you enjoyed it!

Have a good day/night!

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xmortuarykittyx · 7 months

Text

Ever Unlocked

Part 13: 10-54

Part 12: They’re… Yours?

pairing: Officer!Leon Kennedy x Coroner’s Assistant!Reader

warnings: small violence, gaslighting, blame shifting

extra: i’m so sorry this took so much longer, we had a trip to another state and i couldn’t write while i was there but here we have Part 13, this book is soon coming to a close but Ever Locked will take over as soon as this one ends. It will be much longer and i have so so so so so much planned for it. I’m off tomorrow, tonight i work a late night shift but tomorrow im writing Part 14.

10-54, 10-54, 10-54. What an ending to a day full of surprises and shit shows, like a 10-54, Delaney Street, Ridgecrest Apartments. That damn two tone apartment building.

"Apartment 14, Ronda Jones, found deceased with her neck slit...", Rebecca's fingers flip the page back down, her pointer finger moving over the inked words once more as she re-reads the pages. "They're sure it's her?", the trauma was heavy in her voice as she asked her boss the redundant question. "Yeah.", Rebecca turned back towards her assistant whose hand was clawing at the door. Her knuckles white as she peeked around the corner. "I'm so sorry, i know you talked about her from time to time.", Rebecca's pity filled look was more than she could handle.

"Hey-", Rebecca's clipboard was pressed to her chest, her concerned look just drove the nail deeper into her heart. "Why don't i have Leon take you home? His shift is almost over and-", a sob ripped from her lips as she nodded, her hands pressed into her eyes as she turned away from the body on the metal table. "Come on...", Rebecca's hand was quickly placed on her shoulder, rubbing against the lab coat fabric as she guided her assistant back into the main part of the office. "I'm gonna get Leon, you just sit down and get ready to go.", Rebecca's tone was so sweet, calming. Part of her wanted to ask her if she saw anything, she knew the girl would need to be interviewed and spoken to as the neighbor... Watching the assistant sit in her chair, elbows on her knees as her chest heaved with another sob. Rebecca wasn't sure how to help, they dealt with death all the time, constantly near the bodies and sadness that came with the career... but when it was someone you know, someone so close and to be murdered in her own apartment, the same one that she stayed in? Rebecca couldn't imagine the weight.

As she opened the door to step out and find the blonde haired man, she felt her stomach become queasy. She thought about her unlocked window... her unlocked door... it could've been her. Her stomach twisted and turned as she covered her mouth with her hand, the bile taste rising to her throat. She stepped forwards, bumping into something hard, her hand reaching out to grab onto the obstacle. A soft grunt met her ears, her eyes snapping up to the familiar face. Her lips quivered, the numb feeling coming back as she started to sob, her hands clinging onto the vest and the radio digging into her cheek. "Hey, hey...", Leon immediately grabbed her, he felt sick himself. He hadn't meant for her to see it, he just wanted the woman gone... he really hadn't planned very well.

He heard someone clearing their throat, his eyes lifting to see Rebecca, her finger pointing to the girl in his arms as she whispered: 'take her to your place.', to which Leon nodded. He would, he couldn't take her back to hers, he hoped she didn't ask. He ran his free hand down his face, his skin slightly bumped with acne. "Come on, bunny.", he whispered, his lips pressing a kiss onto her head. "Let's get you back home.", he wouldn't admit he knew what happened, he wasn't suppose to know.

"No- no-", she shook her head, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry for earlier, please take me to your place.", she was apologizing and pleading. He felt his heart break, he was cruel and he'd do whatever it took to keep her as his but fuck-! He hadn't meant to scar her for life. He didn't think Rebecca would let her see the body. Then again, his bunny was very unlucky, even if it was his hand that dealt her cards. "Shh. I'm taking you home, what happened?", he didn't want to ask but he had a part to play and he'd be damned if he fucked up now. "Mrs-", she let out a shaky breath, a sob cutting her air off as she gasped. "Jones, murdered-", she couldn't keep talking, her knees nearly gave out as she leaned further into Leon. Her knees buckling and her grip tightening on Leon's vest. His hands came to her elbows, stabilizing her. "Come on, taking you back to my place. Yours isn't safe.", had she been in the better state of mind, she'd ask how he knew her place wasn't safe, but she was too far hysterical right now as Leon lead her out, holding her tight to him.

His hands held her wrists so tight but he needed to keep her up, keep her going as he opened up the door to his Jeep, helping her in. "We'll be home soon, okay?", he felt bad leaving her even if it was just long enough to get in his seat.

He slid in, his keys quickly inserted and cranking the jeep, before he placed his hand on her lap. Her soft crying and muttering had Leon feeling like he'd made a mistake, he wanted to tell her it was all for her, that all of this was for her. She needed to understand sacrifices had to be made for a love as great as theirs- his. He gnawed on the inside of his lip, wearing at the skin as he drove her towards the better side of town. "I need clothes, my tooth brush-", she shook her head, spalling her hands to her thighs. "No, i have extra and you can sleep in my clothes.", he assured her, squeezing above her knee. "I have a tooth brush for you and everything."He had it all for when he finally kept her close, he didn't want her to leave and now was the best way to do so.

————

She was safely sitting on his bed, her little skirt rode up and cheeks painted red from tears. She played with her fingers, her eyes stuck to the floor just in front of her. "I have this shirt and-", Leon's voice was the thing to break her from her spaced out mind set. "Hey, i know this is difficult, but come on, let's take your mind off it it.", he smiled, holding up a grey and red shirt, it was a t-shirt with some school logo on the front. She didn't understand how he thought she could just move on from this so quickly. She was mortified that someone was murdered across from her, if she'd been home she may could've stopped them. If she had gone home last night she maybe couldn't stopped them. She didn't see how she was going to return to the shitty little apartment, her hand covered her mouth again. That's scent all morning, she could never find it. It was- Pushing herself off his bed and making the corner to fall on her knees, the cold tile flush to her heated skin. Her hand holding onto the side of the porcelain seat, her chin digging into the rim as hot, disgusting bile purged from her stomach.

Her nose burnt, belly ached as her stomach lurched, trying to release more impure acid. Leon didn't like how much this affected her, he had just killed her, he still felt a bit guilty but sacrifices have been made for many things and their love was the most important to him. Jones' death wasn't for anything, because now that she was here, he wasn't going to let her go back. He was getting annoyed as he watched her lay her cheek on the toilet seat. "Come on-", Leon walked into the bathroom, his hands slipping under her arms as he went to lift her up. "Someone who means a lot to me just died and you want me to be calm?", she out of us and getting pissed she couldn't comprehend how he was just thinking this was nothing. "Leon, my neighbor was murdered.", she looked back at him, her eyes red from the tears and chin slick with vomit. "I can't even comprehend she's gone.", her hand came up to her face, she felt her face twist up with confusion and hurt. "I can't even imagine what she must've felt. If they came one room over, of if they decided to murder more people. I'd be dead-! ", she waved her hand, trying to let everything that happened today come to a closed this was just too much for her to handle and he was acting as if none of it should bother her, how like she not be bothered?

"You're alive, aren't you? She's not, be grateful that you're still here.", his voice sounded... stern. "I'm sure you're scared- i can see as much.", he squatted down next to her, police uniform pants still baggy in some places, he hadn't filled out, yet, but if this was the path he had to take to keep his love, his. Well, Leon wouldn't mind hitting the gym more and planning a bit better. He can't fuck up like this again. He can't be so, careless. His eyes cut to her as he lifted the toilet paper roll, wrapping it around his hand and tearing it. He couldn't become like her, careless and guileless.

"How are you so calm? Why can't you understand that this really does affect me-", she threw her hand into her lap, she was unsure how he remained so neutral after learning of the crime, maybe it was just because he sees this every day, that maybe his heart had hardened just a little from the job. Hers had. Death and despair heavy in the dark oak office, but it was so close to home. "Because, I've seen this more times than i can count in my few months. I've been the one to go to the scene and find them.", his thumb placed itself in the dip of her chin, paper wiping away the slick on her chin. "I understand you're scared and that you were close to her. I really do, bunny. I'm not trying to be cruel.", he was cruel, he was so twisted in the head over her. "I just want you to be grateful that you're alive, no man is going to come here and slit your-", his eyes caught hers, her eyes were as wide as saucers. She had a glint of fear in them as she pushed his chest, trying to make a gap between them. "I-I didn't-", she slid her ass across the tile, her leg extended to keep a distance between them. "I didn't say she has her throat slit.", her mind went reeling back, her toe bumping his chest as he leaned forwards. "What are you doing?", his bright blue eyes now dark as he leaned forwards, narrowing them at the girl. "Are you implying something, bunny? I work at the station, i over heard it-", "no- William and Riley brought her in... you wouldn't have heard it from them because they were with Chief Irons immediately after-", she felt the anger boiling off his skin. "What are you trying to say?!", his voice had a bass to it she never heard before, her fingers curled into a loose fist as she stared at Leon. "You left yesterday morning, you went out and didn't come back for hours...", she whispered.

"I went to get us breakfast- are you saying I'm a murderer?", his leaned further over her, her knee bending back as he stared down at her. "n-no...", his small outbursts, the grabbing and yelling- he wasn't that violent, he wasn't a bad person. None of it made sense though, maybe she was just grasping for straws, her mind so broke over this she was going insane trying to put pieces that didn't belong together. Her eyes snapped back to his, his fingers sliding past her cheek as she flinched from his touch. "If you're going to say something with that much weight to it, be certain of your words, bunny.", he dug his fingers into her chin. "I go out early in the morning to buy you breakfast days in a row, i pick you up from your shitty ass apartment-", the curse sounded so foreign in his vocabulary. "and you have the nerve to throw all of it out and accuse me of murder in the same day?", her lips let out a whimper, his fingers bruising her chin. "You're an ungrateful brat, bunny.", this was not a light she thought she'd ever see the shy rookie in. She felt the handle of the cabinet pressing into her back, her foot still pressed to his chest as he folded her. He had this- her chest clenched just looking at the features on his face. His lips pulled back in a snarl, eyes so dark, she wondered how she ever saw the light in them before.

"You're so lucky someone like me wants to protect you, your stupid little ass, leaving windows and doors unlocked. You're asking for someone to come into your home and hurt you.", his tone was something of nightmares, the devotion and horror laced together in some lifetime film-esque manner. "but i've protected you, i've made sure that apartment was a safe space for you. I checked on you-", his fingers moved to caress her cheeks. She was paralyzed by whatever emotion she was feeling, rather the lack of feeling. She was so numb as she zoned out, her eyes stuck to his face. "i just want what's best for us, but you make it so hard to keep you safe. You ask questions, you over think, you make it hard for me, bunny.", that darkness snuck back into his words. "I won't have to worry about that much longer...", the back of his finger touched under her eyes, petting down her cheek. "you're sick!", she kicked his chest, snapping back from whatever reality she tried to use to block all of this out. A grunt left his lips, his eyes widening for a mere second of shock as he reached for her leg. She felt his hand grab her ankle as her chest and arms hit the tile. She lifted her hand, nails and fingers dug into the door frame. "You're not leaving!", he growled, pulling her back as she clung desperately onto the door. She remembered that first day, how she made the comment about him and he reacted in such a negative way... he couldn't stand being called anything like stalker, creepy- murderer.

His nails dug into her skin, a cry of pain left her as her fingers were forced from the door. "Don't make me hurt you! You're making me do things i don't want to do, bunny!", he yelled, pulling her by her legs; then skirt, then shirt to get her back to where he could grab her. His hands locked around her chest. His head on her shoulder as she sobbed. "Please, stop crying-", his voice was soft and sweet, unlike the sheer power and authority he had moments ago. She sat perched on his lap, her head tilted away from him. "I didn't want this for you... you're leaving me no choice, sweet girl.", he pressed a kiss behind her ear. "I'm giving you once chance to cooperate with me and we can talk this all out.", she didn't want to talk anything out with him. She wanted to go back to her home, her home before she ever even let the boy into her life.

Leon released her, moving to stand up, he took her silence as submission. She made a break for it as soon as she was free, his brows set and his hand reached out. Her ankle caught between his fingers once more, laying weight into the already showing bruises. Her body was stalled mid air, her chest and head taking the brunt of the fall, she was forced into. Leon watched the tile under her head crack, the five behind her fall rendering her nearly unconscious as a mumble of incoherent words fell from those pretty puffy lips. "Bunny, bunny, bunny...", Leon stood the rest of the way up, cracking his back as he stood erect. "I warned you, you were such a good girl f' me. Now you're just becoming such a bad little girl. I'll make sure you learn your place. You'll be safe here-", he walked around to her head, seeing her eyes dilated and shaky as she didn't even try to sit up. "You won't have to worry about that murderer or anything else... i'll take care of you.", he squatted down to her level once more, fingers digging into her hair and brushing it back behind her ear. "I love you.", he whispered, seeing her eyes start to flutter closed. "I had to do what was necessary to protect our love. You'll understand it all, soon, bunny.", his eyes were hard but there was a softness only for her, despite how much she pushed his mind into these horrifying thoughts and actions. He didn't blame her, as much as he felt maybe he was awaken into something more. Maybe, this was what love was suppose to feel like? It was heavy and a burden to bear, but for her, he'd do anything.

She couldn't even hear him anymore, the ringing in her ear, the sound of the tile cracking under her head. It rang in her ears over and over, she felt warm blood soak the side of her scalp. She watched him look over her, she prayed it was some realistic lucid dream, that he was just her demon and she'd wake up back at home in her purple sheets. She couldn't find the strength to sit up, she felt his fingers move her hair out of her face but she couldn't move her eyes to meet the raging ocean that was his. Her last seconds missing out on hearing his confession of love and murder.

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z-and-the-space-child · 6 months

Text

my head is all currently midnight burger podcast so here's everything i like about this wonderful piece of media:

it's pretty fun and very funny!! i smile like an idiot on public transport and on my way to class at least once a day listening to this.

the characters are so. idk how to describe them but theyre so full of life and you can tell that they are loved greatly by the creator(s)

the WRITING. i could seriously pluck a quote from damn near every episode to carry me through the day. i don't need affirmations i need gloria to talk me through my problems.

i was doing a lil analysis of the themes in this show and i came up with "the best thing you can ever do is the best thing you can do right now" and it is FUEL, babey.

The el triste monologue. also just gloria being a POC and being proud of herself and her culture. there's a lot of cultural mish-mash in podcasts, so this is very refreshing.

It's very, very sweet and heartfelt. kind of like wolf 359 if they communicated more instead of dodging their issues until they came to a peak (love them for it.)

the PHYSICS of it all. i'm a physics/astrophysics major because i think space and looking at the stars is my lifeblood so i won't shut up about it. i don't want ava and leif (certainly ava) to shut up about it ever. HOW much reasearch did they have to do to get this kinda grasp on it. im in awe, i'm LEARNING actual things from them. i could go on. the gravity waves, the stellar nuclear fusion, the time dilation of it all. and all without using over-flowery language!!! i can actually follow a good chunk of the time. are we sure ava didn't take one of those science communication seminars. maybe 5 phds does it. when she and leif talk i vibrate like an electron in a lazer. wonderful.

star sequencing??? stellar nucleosequencing??? right up my alley. thats my kinda stuff. the romanticization of space, i've seen. the romanticization of physics, however, is not something i haven't seen in such a beautiful modern fashion. (Ie, not oppenheimer or even richard feyman)

and it's not too science-y to the point that they think they can't have fun. yes they discuss the implications of gravity waves and wax poetic about space and pulsars. (it beats for you, berts) but they have FUN! they meet their parents because they can. they get a plant drunk. there's an atmosphere(?????) around the diner that allows them to fly around and mind-numbing speeds and look at the curvature of spacetime and also sit on the roof. (I imagine the entire place is the temperature of a summer night.) they have a whole wild west planet. leif builds things inexplicably. how? where does he get the materials??? shhhhh don't question it just let him have the gravity wave detector. nobody actually knows what engineers do, not even engineers. let him be. also time crystals??????

ALSO ava being a woman in stem and being so blunt yet covert about it. she's been dealing with it for so long. why are all (recognized) physicists a)white b) men c) both. it's such a sucky thing to work into because of the outward appearance. ava is a proud mad scientist which i aspire to so much. i am keeping her in my little arsenal of people to think about when i don't want to study. (picture the do it for her meme but it's pics of ava) I don't think i aptly put how much i love her. i'm not all the way finished yet but i've heard she was forced to marry someone? i think it would be a thing for sure if she cheated on him. so many physicists cheated on their spouses (wives ): ) and i think ava should also do it. as a treat. if that's what she'd like.

when people have done bad, bad things but show/are capable of redemption upon reflecting on their past/current shortcomings is just something that gets me so much directly in the heart. the hiddenness of people. the tragedy. we contain MULTITUDES and this show demonstrates that so well. how they support each other! they are everchanging and that's good for them. Leif the engineer the ex criminal the diner cook.

leif exploding a man in cold blood. if i could draw i'd draw that. maybe i will anyways.

food as a form of affection/way to bond. grief. doing your best. making amends. using the time you have. death is inevitable but that's okay.

And if time and tide roil you too harshly, or diurnal courses leave you with no safe havens, just remember we’re out there, somewhere, lookin’ for ya’

they open at six

#midnight burger #fiction podcasts #my rambles #hopefully this will get it out of my brain #i believe in womens (ava and gloria) rights and also their wrongs #we open at six

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bleachedjuice · 1 year

Text

'To Whom The Bells Toll'

Warnings: mentions of warfare, angst, and a special supirse at the end MWAHAHAHAHHA

Enjoy~

Warmth.

That was all you craved. Wanted. And now, now here you where knee deep in swamp lands with goop containing the gods only know what. The smell was sulfur like and gritty, not like the smell of fresh dirt at all. It was putrid, puffy, thick, and strong. It was like a sickly sweet after smell, sticking to your lungs in their shallow breaths as they desperately squeezed any remnants of this damned air out of them and into the cold world with a puff of smoke billowing out of your body like a dragon.... your face was bitterly numb as your muscles ached... you've been sitting at this nest for what seemed forever.. your comms were silent and still as ever as you trickled against the cold air beneath your thick clothing and as small droplets dripped onto your Luke warm body.

"Fucking hell...."

Soaps voice called out behind you, he was your backup, left up here to help you out in case it was foreshadowed and needed that someone or a group had found your little nest and decided to get a dog fight between you two and them. Price had decided that it was safer leaving the Sargeant of his group up here with a commander than to risk both lines of command entirely. And you bit your teeth back as you scowled as the rain came down harder.

"Don't worry Soap, they'll be out soon, they gotta be."

"Fuckin better"

He mumbled, and then something shining caught your eye.. or well reflected off of your scopes' lenses. Stifling your muscles, you creened into your gun like you two where one...melded together even.

And then you saw a head..narrowing your eyes yoru nostrils flared in anticipation....not one of yours nor 141. You then lulled the trigger into a stiff pull and watched as the body fell.

"Soap, I give em... not even five more minutes until we scope closer in to see what the hell their doing down there."

"Your the boss."

Stifling a groan at the comment, you then shrugged some rain off your body, feeling it seep into your now darkened sky...the stream lights pouring into the area around it..that base... you then huffed and went to roll into a crouch to get yourself up and moving, until you heard the comm static....and then gun fire...and then a yell. Simon... loud bang..then nothing.

You then looked at Soap before you scrambled to your feet and stared ahead, and made your way down the mountain side...but before you two could even fathom touching the bottom a whistle spooked through the air...and then you ran pike hell as a grenade exploded behind your two now racing figures...hoping your dark clothing would seal you both into the darkness and rain as it snuck unto the cold night around it... and it did... the only thing you both heard as your own heartbeat and adrenaline pulsing into your veins.

The forest surrounded you now, both close and tight knit figures, as you spoke hushly into the comms.

"This is bravo 0-2 with bravo 0-7. What is going on down there?"

Nothing...pure static.

You motioned to Soap as you two crept closer and closer... and then you spoke hushly. "Your going to go through that side area that's open, see it?"

"Yeah.. but what about you?"

"I'll be going through the hatch up there,"

Cutting yourself up you pointed to the hatch near the roof area...where parked truck was just below it.

"I'll climb up that truck and make my way in. It'll be more heavier guarded than the area I'm sending you in. Soap.. be careful."

"Will do commander."

And with that and a simple fist bump and nods. You both went you separate ways... you trickled down the now muddle hill side as the ground below you swallowed your boots and the rain that piujddd down onto your now moving figure. Stinging your skin as you moved... until you then leaped and landed at the base of the mountain. And you took off running until you approached a covered area of the gate...and wire cutters gripped your hand as you snipped a whole into the fence... and weaved your way into base... before you hugged the walls and left the watch towers alone, not being in the mood to alering the entire base that there were intruders amongst its walls.

You then coddled the shadows like a babe until you saw the coast was clear to make a sprint for the truck..and you did. Climbing up its side with such urgency had your ears ringing with nervousness..

And then you hoisted yourself up the upside of the trucks bulging metal stomach and landed on its smooth silver roof. You then slowly slid on your stomach and scooted toward the opening, glad to have avoided the gaurds that were now perching your shadowed area without a fuss or an issued sound or incident.

You then slid toward the opened hutch of the grated window side and went in legs first, sliding you but in a scoot like manner as you held your breath before letting go of the truck behind you and descended in a sliding manner down the thick glass window and into darkness with a slight thump of your boots.

Fuck. You then looked around before whispering into your comms.

"I'm in Soap, any updates?"

Silence...than static....

"This is Soap, I'm in, I found 141, and some of Kortac, Your teams also in position out of the range awaiting to be back up to pick us up...but Königs not here..."

"Copy that....eyes peeled for Jolly green giant. Got ya. Get everyone else outta here... and remorse my words to my team, await my command on via comms to take off even if I'm not out. "

Prices voice shouted through the comms...pissed.

"But-"

"No buts. No use to risk three whole teams for two people. When I say go, they'll take off with your two and mine In tow."

"Roger"

Bitter and resentment of Haltering words broke out into the comms from Soap as Prices muffled mumbling baked into your mind through the comms.

"Fuck..."

Muttering to yourself, you then looked around in the greenish lit area, noticing how dull and sickly it looked, like a horror movie. You shifted quietly through the halls and then whipped around a corner to find a door at the end...and two rooms on each side with unopened doors. Shuddering your sniper rifle and puckering out your hand gun and blade you crept silently and turned into the two rooms farthest from the last three first...clear...and then the next...clear...before you stood in front of the door....and with a silent prayer you swung the door open to see a mangled looking and heavily breathing König his eyes wide on you like a frantic stallion.... and four men... three bullets left your gun... two down for good..one injured..and the other barreling you into the wall like a bull. And then your head cracked harshly against the wall, and your body felt numb, and your vision went blurry as you felt yourself get thrown into the desk occupying the area, your body skidding across it and it's holdings with a crash as you hit the floor dazed.... and you heard König shout...no...

Roar.. as your body staggered a moment before you whipped your hand around for your blade...fuck... you then saw a pencil...that'll do...

You then heard a click...and then a glint in your non blind side.. and then the pressure.

"One wrong move, and I'll muster your face to mangle into a more fucking ugly look."

#konig cod #cod x reader #könig modern warfare #mw2 könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x male reader

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scyllas-revenge · 27 days

Note

Hi there! Just wanted to reach out as I'm going to start my annual re-read of BLCI and thank you for this work of art (no joke here) you have put out into the world :)

Know its been a while since the last chapter and completely understand that life can get in the way but I sincerely sincerely wish you do have plans to continue it :) If you have any Beeromir (?? not sure if there is a ship name? Can't figure out how to do the squared symbol on my laptop for B squared...) tidbits that you are willing to share I would be forever grateful.

Thank you again!! :)

ANNUAL REREAD??

I'm trying- and failing- to find the right words to express how much this means to me. Thank you so much!! I am hugging this ask to my heart (or I would if I wasn't scared I'd break my laptop). And thank you for not giving up on me- I never meant to go on a hiatus at all, although I did realize that there were still some plot points I needed to iron out before I could move forward with the fic. And then yeah life got in the way. Still, things are looking up- I turned 30, found a therapist, am taking ADHD meds, got an inhaler, traveled solo overseas for the first time, saw the northern lights- I am unstoppable!! XD

ANYWAY! I am very much still working on this fic, and I have a good chunk of the next chapters done. I don't trust myself to give a specific date lol, but it'll be updated again, I promise!

I'm pretty sure at some point I shared the first few paragraphs of the next chapter on tumblr in another ask, but I'll post the beginning of the chapter here as proof that progress is underway and as a thank you for such a wonderful ask! Feel free to reach out any time to chat about fanfics or fandom stuff in general <3

Chapter 33 snippet:

Damn it, the AC is out again.

That was my first disoriented thought as I woke up, overheated and uncomfortably flushed. I tried to wipe the perspiration from my forehead, but my right arm was trapped at my side, numbness buzzing down my fingers. Huh? Sluggishly, my eyes creaked open—and all at once my heartbeat accelerated so fast the cabin seemed to spin.

Boromir’s chest was pressed against my face. The warmth of his skin nearly burned through his rumpled undershirt, and the weight of his torso was squashing my nose into a pancake. He must have rolled over in his sleep, because he was nearly sprawled out on top of me now, his chest and shoulder pinning the right half of my body to the mattress, one of his legs thrown over mine from inside his crumpled bedroll. He was snoring softly.

Oh. A giddy, guilty laugh bubbled up in my chest, and I smiled against his skin. How had I thought this was uncomfortable? I could have stayed here forever, Boromir’s body draped over me like a weighted blanket, his slow exhales ruffling my hair.

But beyond the bulk of his torso and our tangled mess of blankets, a weak ray of sunlight had filtered into the cabin through the crooked shutters hanging over the window. It was morning.

Arm’s length, I’d promised myself. Keep him at arm’s length, starting tomorrow. And now tomorrow was here.

My heart sinking, I poked at his side with my free hand. “Boromir? Hey—Boromir? You have to wake up.”

“Y’r voice…” His voice was thick with sleep, slurred and low, and his right hand slid blindly along my bedroll to splay possessively against my hip. “Mmm, Valar, say m’ name again…”

Heat of an entirely different kind flooded my limbs, and I shoved at his chest in a near panic. “Boromir, wake up!”

“Eh?” Boromir staggered to his feet so quickly I thought the bed frame might break under us. “Beatrice!” He was breathing hard as he turned to face me, dashing a hand through his hair.

I stared up at him, unable to move, trying and failing to look as though I wasn’t about to burst into flames. “Good morning,” I croaked.

#answered!#burn like cold iron #lotr fanfic #boromir x oc #i have the nicest mutuals i want to cry

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gracethyomen · 4 months

Text

"Loose Tongue"

Hello again. It's me. The prophet. Welcome back to two idiots dancing around each other. We're getting into some violence so watch out. This bit is mostly Matt's point of view. I'm not a man and I'm not blind so I'm doing my best here, but please bear with me. Also, my favorite canon character in this series has finally arrived. Mommy Claire, I love you.

Warnings: Emotional instability, violence, mention of violence, catholicism, mentions of blood and injuries. Matt being a major simp. Injuries, blood, sewing wounds, wound care, medical procedures, Matt being a little obsessed with Natalie.

"Daddy!" A small voice, a little boy's voice. Punches being thrown, the squeal of tires around a corner. A knife in his side.

The smell of a garbage dumpster, the numbness spreading from his legs up...

He woke with a sharp gasp, arms flailing at the hands holding him down.

"Hey, it's okay." A voice told him, soft, female. She was calm, she's done this before. She smelled like latex and antiseptic. There were dirty scrubs in the next room. She's had medical experience, a nurse if he had to guess. "We have to get you to a hospital."

"No." He repeated, trying and failing to sit up. He was lying on a hardwood floor, no, a rug between him and the wood. He was probably bleeding all over it at this rate. "They'll kill everyone."

"Who?" She asked, leaning over him to try and keep him from moving.

"They'll kill everyone in the hospital to get to me." A sigh but she put the phone away, sitting back on her heels. "Where am I?"

"You're in my apartment."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the lucky girl who pulled you out of the garbage." She said snidely and confirmed when he asked if she'd seen his face. "Your outfit kind of sucks, by the way." She moved back to grab something.

"Yeah, It's a work in progress." He said, trying to sit up again.

He was stopped by a firm hand on his chest. "Okay, I really wouldn't try to move too much." She scolded, "You've got two or three broken ribs, probably concussion, some kind of puncture wound and that's just the stuff I know about." He felt her pull his eyelid up slightly followed by the near-imperceptible warmth of a light on his face. "And your eyes, they're unresponsive to light, which isn't freaking you the hell out, so either you're blind or in way worse shape than I thought."

"Do I have to pick?" He tried to joke but was cut off by a cough. Damn, his chest hurt.

"You mind telling me how a blind man in a mask ends up beaten half to death in my dumpster?" She asked, poking at the wound in his side.

"The less you know about me the better." He insisted around a groan of pain, stiffening a little on the floor.

"Knife wound?" She asked, shining her light on it to get a better look. He nodded in confirmation as she tended to it, trying not to move too much while she worked. "I think I got the bleeding stopped, but I can't tell how bad it is internally without a series of x-rays, so-"

"No hospitals." He reiterated.

The woman sighed. "This is my night off. I'm really not looking for some guy to die on my couch." She sighed. "You got a name?" Silence. "Yeah, I didn't think so. All right, I'll call you Mike." when he raised a brow she forced a laugh. "Guy I used to date. He liked keeping secrets too."

"Thank you..." He waited and she murmured her name. "Claire."

"Rest." She tapped his chest gently and stood. "We'll figure out the other stuff after." He didn't bother to nod in agreement. Not as the darkness started to take him.

He woke to the feeling of sharp tugging on his side.

"You opened some of your stitches in your sleep. You tried fighting me."

"I'm sorry." He murmured, stopping his pained shifting to let her work."

"I didn't take it personally." She reassured distractedly, focusing on the stitches. "Who's Natalie?" Claire whispered, not looking up from where she was stitching him back together. Matt immediately had to fight the urge to tense up, feeling his mouth go dry with nerves.

He coughed a little, scrubbing a hand over his face. "What do you mean?" He murmured, thoughts going to the scent of jasmine flower and ginger. The smell of her shampoo that always clung to her hair. The feel of her skin under his fingertips when goosebumps raised at his touch. He stomped that train of thought, closing his eyes to try and clear them.

"You were calling out in your sleep," Claire replied, still focused on her task, but undeniably curious. "You woke up a little and asked for Nat, too."

"She's..." He sighed, at a loss. "It doesn't matter." Lie. That was a lie. Of course, she mattered. She always mattered. She mattered the most. But he never let that train of thought get too far along. Even if his heart turned a little at his own words.

"I see," Claire said coyly, smirking faintly. "So she's the girl." He heard her giggle a little, tugging a little too hard on the stitches, making him wince. "Let me guess," She continued. "Tall... dark hair... pretty blue bell eyes..."

"Hazel eyes." He blurted without thinking, fighting the urge to kick himself. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, fidgeting with the blanket draped across him. "Her eyes are hazel."

"So you're a psychic now." Claire joked. "Fascinating. But I was right about the rest?"

Matt shook his head. Unsure of why he continued talking. "Her friend told me. I wanted to..." He swallowed. "I wanted to buy her a scarf. For her birthday. I didn't know what color." He fought a smile at the memory of asking one of the shop attendants which colors would go best with what Foggy had described her as. "She's short." He said flatly. "Her hair's not dark either."

"And what is it?" Claire snickered, and he felt her tie off his stitches before wiping away the excess blood.

His lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile, eyes turning fond as he answered. "Strawberry blonde. Too dark to be true blonde but not quite fully red either." He admitted. He didn't want to tell her that he'd pictured Natalie in his mind many times. Trying to arrange features he thought would fit her voice... Her movements... Her. Just her. Vague guiding touches and friendly descriptions only gave a few pieces to put together.

"Does she know..." Claire paused. "About your-" She broke off. "Hobbies?" He laughed lightly at the word, groaning as it pulled at his fresh stitches.

"No." He said firmly. "No, she doesn't know." He sat for a moment, trying to close his mouth to no avail. The tiredness and the pain made him weak. "I'll make sure she gets home. Stay on the roof of her building until I hear her keys in the lock." He confessed, remembering many nights atop the bricks of her apartment building, waiting to hear her distinctive footsteps on the stairs. "There's a bistro right across the street, Marquette's, the owners know her by name, I bring her leftovers when she forgets to stop for dinner the night before."

"So..." Claire interjected, hands clearing away the mess of her makeshift E.R, tidying the space. "What's the deal? Relationship? Situationship? Burning passion?"

Matt tilted his head back against the sofa, reminding himself why he kept his distance in the first place. Engraving those reasons into his mind.

"It..." He shook his head. "Nothing would ever work between us." A sigh blew out from between his lips, only to be cut short by a quiet realization.

Claire noticed his change in demeanor and carefully sat back, brows furrowed. "Mike?"

"Someone's coming." Matt whispered. "There's someone in the building, a man, going from door to door."

"How do you know that?" Claire asked incredulously.

"Ssh." He hissed, sitting up with a soft groan. "He's on the third floor already. Smells like Prima cigarettes and discount cologne."

"You can smell a man on the third floor?"

"He really likes that cologne." He said by way of explanation. "You'll smell him soon enough." He paused, smiling softly. "You're looking at me like I'm crazy, right? Seems the appropriate response. There are some things I haven't told you about me, Claire."

She snorted shakily. "You haven't told me anything about you." She crossed her arms, the squeak of her gloves on the skin of her elbows hitting his ears. "All I know is you're very good at taking a beating."

"That part I got from my dad." He nodded his head thoughtfully. He tilted his head, then indicated the knife set on the counter behind Claire. "This all you got?"

Claire sighed but grabbed one of the bigger ones, studying it. "Yeah, it's for vegetables, not a knife fight."

He carefully lifted it from her hands and started limping towards the door, snatching his mask from the sofa. "He's at your neighbor's door."

Claire sprung into action, "You kidding me! Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" She stepped in front of him, blocking his way. "You can barely stand up right now."

"That's what the knife is for." He reasoned.

"Wait!" She pushed at his chest gently, trying to put distance between him and the door. "Don't do this. Not in my home. Okay, nobody has to get hurt. Just stand over there on the side and be quiet. I'll get rid of him." Matt pressed his lips together, but nodded in agreement, slipping behind where the door would open.

He listened carefully as she lied to the dirty officer, putting herself in the line of fire for him in a way similar to how Natalie often did. Unbidden, he found his thoughts wandering back to her. Fuck, Claire reminded him so much of her. A little more free, a little more quick to speak, but cut from the same cloth nonetheless.

"See?" Claire sighed, closing the door loudly behind her. "No reason to get all stabby." She wrinkled her nose as she walked past him. "Boy, were you right about that cologne."

"He didn't believe you," Matt growled, slipping his mask on and entering the hallway, snagging a fire extinguisher from the wall and walking to the banister, dangling it over the edge.

"Mike!" Claire whisper-shouted. "What are you doing?"

He held up his free hand to stop her, listening carefully to the heavy footsteps on the stairs before letting the extinguisher go, colliding with Foster's head and knocking him unconscious.

"Shit!" Claire gasped, "What do we do now?" She groaned, gripping her head with both hands.

"There's someone else," He tilted his head towards the floor up from them. "One floor up, watching us. He's young. He's scared."

"Santino?" Claire peeked up around the banister at the teenager, swearing under her breath. "He's the one who found you in the alley."

"He's seen my face too?"

"Yeah."

"Claire." Matt said gently, "Go upstairs and get him. We're gonna need help carrying Detective Foster to the roof."

"This is way past what I signed up for." Claire sighed, pacing back and forth on the rooftop and intermittently glancing at the tied-up man near the edge.

"What exactly did you think that was?" Matt shook his head, hands on his hips.

"Do you really want to get into this in front of him?" Claire snapped back, pulling on her makeshift mask.

"He's out."

"He could be faking?"

Matt tilted his head towards the detective, counting the space between his heartbeats. "No. He's not."

"Okay, that's what I'm talking about." Claire pointed at him accusingly. "Okay, I find a guy in a dumpster who turns out to be some kind of blind vigilante who can do all of this really weird shit like smell cologne through walls and sense whether someone's unconscious or faking it." She flapped her hands around as she talked, finally letting some of that pent-up stress get out. "Slap on top of that, he can take an unbelievable amount of punishment without one damn complaint!"

"That last part's the Catholicism." He listened carefully. "He's awake now. Stay back and don't do anything unless I tell you to." He instructed, "Please. It's safer that way." He turned away from her to stalk towards their prisoner, dropping his shoulders and readying his fists.

"Here's how this is going to work." He started, voice low and dangerous. "I'm gonna ask you some questions. You're gonna answer them. If you're lying to me, trust that I will know and I will be unhappy." He leaned into the detective's space, pinpointing his heartrate and measuring it carefully. "Where's the boy?"

"Dead." Without hesitation he shot his fist into the man's stomach, aiming for that soft spot where the last few floating ribs lived. The satisfying crack was music to his ears.

"This is what unhappy looks like." He snarled, feeling the blood start to roar in his ears, adrenaline taking over. "Where's the boy?"

"What do you care?" Foster groaned, squirming in his binds uselessly. "If he's not dead yet, he will be."

Matt ignored him. "Why did you take him?"

"Figured you'd come running."

"And after I was dead?"

"Sell the kid. Like all the others."

Claire's breath hitched at Foster's words, and Matt's jaw clenched. Without pausing, he landed two quick punches to the man's jaw, drawing a scream out of him.

"I was telling the truth on that one!" The man gasped, blood pooling in his mouth.

"I know." Matt panted, holding himself back from landing more blows just yet. "Where's the boy?"

"So you find him. So what?" The man laughed darkly. "We'll take another. Kill me, somebody takes my place. As long as people are buying, we'll be selling. Nothing you do tonight can change that." The man spat blood onto the asphalt of the roof. "But go ahead. Keep hitting me. Let's see who drops first." He sneered menacingly, and Matt opened his mouth to respond but was stopped by Claire tapping his shoulder.

"Try stabbing him in his trigeminal nerve." She offered.

"Where is it?"

She guided his fingers to the space between his eye and his eyebrow. "That's the supraorbital foramen. You want to go in right under there." He nodded and leaned in close to Foster, pulling a knife from his belt with one hand and holding his head still with the other.

"Hold still," He warned with sinister pleasure. "I might do some serious damage if you squirm." He turned back to Claire for a moment. "How will I know when I find it?"

"He'll tell you." Claire said, and her voice had taken on something darker than was there before.

Screams erupted around the rooftop, feeding that ugly monster in Matt's belly. The monster that thrived on listening to a man who inflicted untold harm on children voice his unending pain.

"You're right what you said before." He taunted, digging his finger into the wound he'd created. "I kill you, somebody takes your place, but they'll all end up back here. Just like you. And sooner or later, one of you is gonna tell me what I need to know." The man thrashed madly but Matt held him fast. "Ssh! Listen, I need you to know why I'm hurting you." He hissed. "It's not just the boy. I'm doing this because I enjoy it." With that, he wrenched the man from his bonds and marched him to the edge.

"No, no, no!" The man pleaded, blood dripping around his eyes and nose. "No, no, no!"

"Where is he?" Matt shouted, shaking him over the edge so he felt the air beneath him.

"Underneath the Troika restaurant!" Foster cried. "Eleventh and forty-fourth!" The man took a few deep breaths and then continued. "If you're lucky, they'll kill you before they start in on the boy. It would be a shame for you to watch what they do to him!"

Matt tipped him over the edge, cherishing the sound of his screams.

He had a little boy to find.

a/n: Hefty dose of plot for this chapter. We're getting to the point where the one-shot I posted earlier comes into play, and as both parts are part of whole chapters, you'll likely see them reposted in the larger storyline. We finally got some Daredevil Daredeviling.

Thank you to everybody leaving notes on the various parts of this story, I love you guys.

As always this story is dedicated to @abucketofweird, without whom this story wouldn't exist.

If you enjoy this story please consider leaving a note or following for more! It means a lot to me when you do!

-Sybil :)

#daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #marvel #matt murdock #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x you

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burgerrat · 5 months

Text

The Modifyers: Numb Nostalgia

((So long story short since a few nights ago I have been plagued by ideas of my own to do something with this scrapped nickelodeon series. I want to give it a story it never had a chance to tell; although if something does end up being made of it canonically some day, you can interpret this as a more mature, horror-oriented AU or something based off of the pilot episode, it's cancellation leading the story & characters to fall into obscurity + the concept of the comic series I Hate Fairyland and Fionna and Cake, which inspired me))

Something happened that day.

Well- besides losing your precious communication ring into the villain's lair...

Thankfully Lacey Shadows happened to be the henchwoman of a complete fool who swooned over her.

Of course, Baron Vain disregarded all of Rat's claims about his precious Lacey being in reality a Modifyer plotting against them. His life was forgiven for retrieving his favourite hecnhwoman's ring, likely something that must've meant the world to her! That's probably why it ringed so obnoxiously... probably so each time it happened to fall off of her it would set off an alarm of sorts... to alert her it was missing!

But Rat's claims? They were simply outrageous. Of course he was only jealous he preferred Lacey over him.

And so the wannabe-villainous boss would return the ring to his beloved henchwoman and rant about how annoying his other henchman was. Lacey still remembered the dread that washed over her seeing Baron Vain arising from the secret entrance to his lair, walking towards her, ring in hand. She was already sweating bullets having realized she lost the damn thing again somewhere in the Baron's lair... seeing him holding it felt like someone was pointing a gun at her.

All it would have taken was quite literally the press of a button. It would have taken one movement to answer to Katz's call. She was inches away from having her cover blown.

And yet... As 'fate' would have it, she had her ring returned to her oh-so-kindly by the 'big bad' the entire organization she worked for fought against. The perks of the henchwoman's charm pushing all the right buttons, right?

It was fun in a way... that's what getting yourself into an adventure is all about, no? Getting in trouble, returning stolen mystical artifacts (as much as she wished to use it for herself), being inches away from imminent danger... it was exciting.

But of course, that was then.

This is now.

"Hey, kid? You feeling okay?" An elderly crocodile asked, noticing that the woman in front of him seemed like she waa zoning out instead of scanning the groceries that were piling up in front of her. She snapped out of her daydreaming and looked at her customer.

"Oh- Yes! yes, absolutely! I'm sorry, I must've not slept well last night... hah.." she nervously excused, beginning to scan each item and placing them within a paper bag.

"Oh no, don't worry about it, I get it... same ol' routine each day'll drain ya." The old reptile replied as he dug through his wallet and made sure what he had was the right amount.

"Yeah..." she sighed, looking down at her one belonging resting below her checkout: a blue backpack, which happened to be looking right back at her- literally.

Despite her employee's outfit, those pink locks tied in a messy ponytail- now having taken a much less vibrant color (and a good chunk of them happened to be turning purple at the tips), her face seeming to be much less lively than it once was , those bright blue eyes and pink hair were unmistakeable.

...

Once closing time neared, the woman was lazily finished restocking whatever needed restocking, and once she finished her part, she collected her belongings and left her coworkers to close up the place. She sighed as she walked down the darkened streets of the town until she reached what appeared to be a phone booth... upon entering it, the contraption begun to shake until it launched in the air- revealing to be a rocket pod... which led to a familiar airship.

The woman slammed the doors to the pod open, letting the blue backpack fall to the ground; she listlessly stepped on colorful little squares on the floor, which brightened upon contact and once the pattern was completed the lights of the place turned on.

"Ow..." said Mole as he returned to his original form and got back onto his feet.

"Sorry." She replied in a tired tone as she undid her ponytail and allowed her long hair free.

The two barely exchanged many words as Agent Xero wormed her way out of her employee's attire as she made her way to her bedroom, and into a baggy t-shirt once she was there. She flopped onto the bed on her stomach with a groan, her long hair hiding where her head was almost entirely.

Some rustling from another part of the airship could be heard from her room; soon, Mole would appear- now having taken the form of a tray, carrying a simple bowl of cereal.

"Hey- I've taken the liberty to be a freelance chef..." said he in a sarcastic tone as he tugged at her shirt to gain her attention, "Least you could do is eat..."

Another groan emerged from the woman as she begun to rise from her cozy tomb like a zombie, lazily stretching out a hand- her messy hair covering her face entirely, with only her nose sticking out, accentuated that metaphor.

"Come oooon..." now it was Mole who groaned, rolling his eyes. His annoyance seemed to entertain Xero as she let out a hearty chuckle before using both hands to pull back her long curls. She gingerly picked the bowl off her friend and he immediately turned back into his original form.

"I'm practicing for my future job at a haunted house, whaddya think?" She jokingly inquired.

"Terrific." Mole played along, attempting to crawl his way up the bed; his companion eventually lending him a hand- or better said, a leg- to help push him onto the mattress.

"Seriously though... when'll we go back to being- ya know, Modifyers? Katz isn't exactly pleased that you've been goin' around without a disguise at all..." the little blue shapeshifter fumbled with the covers of the bed.

"Pfft- why bothew?" Replied Xero with a shrug (and a mouthful of cereal), "we hawen't sween Bawon Wain in fowevah! Ow hees miwions!" She exclaimed, gulping down her food.

"Besides, I'm off the clock for now.." she added, eyes half-lidded.

"Uh... Xero," Mole's tone was uncertain- as if he was about to deliver world-shattering news, "you've been 'off the clock' for sixteen years..." he gulped.

#the modifyers #my writing #PLEASE BE NICE TO ME IM TRYING TO GET THE CHARACTERS PERSONALITY JUST RIGHT #of course im gonna give em a little bit of my Own character building #since yknow there isnt a lot to go off of in just one pilot episode of 12 minutes...#but overall i want to try to accurately get their character. for the most part at least djdndns

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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

Text

Nightshade

Chapter 5: Fuck The Cape

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

TW: depictions of near drowning, memories of parental abuse & neglect, smoking, drinking, fights (not graphic), unhealthy coping mechanisms, panic attacks, general stress, I know nothing about cameras or photography, emotional vulnerability.

“I can’t do it!" I cried out as the waves tossed against me. The sun was still high in the sky, blinding slivers of light reflecting off of the moving water and shining into my eyes as I desperately tried to stay above water.

The boat only a few movements away bobbed on the surface, groaning with each shift of the waves. "You either sink or swim, Lena." The voice was soft and nurturing, but the words were anything but. "And Glovers don't sink."

Water crashed over my head, forcing me beneath the surface for a moment before I managed to push myself back to the top. I freedom sucked in as much air as I could, wide eyes looking at the half-shaded figure lounging on the boat. "Mom please!"

With a sigh, she shook her head as she stood. "Sink or swim."

The roar of the engine ripped along the surface of the water as the boat eased further and further away from me, back toward the shore. My heavy breaths did little the warm the cold that settled in my limbs as they moved, struggling to keep me afloat. With hot tears blurring my vision I forced myself to swim forward.

Salty. Sweet. Bitter. The water hit my tongue each time my heavy limbs splashed above the water. Each time it was a different taste, a different sensation that filled my brain with a moment of distraction. The taste, however potent, did little to help keep me from sinking as the fatigue finally set in. My eyes burned each time I forced my head to breach the surface, taking in as many sharp breaths of the frozen air as I could before sinking deeper and deeper into the ever-darkening water.

Sink or swim.

With one last push of my arms, I forced myself above the water and fumbled for the ledge of the buoy. My frozen fingers curled around the even colder surface as I tugged myself closer to the bright red material. It swayed with the waves, chaotic and violent but I held on. The sun began to set over the sparkling horizon and as night fell I could only wait and pray she would come back for me soon.

Sink or swim.

"Lena?" Howard called on the other end of the phone. "Are you still there?" The red buoy caught the light as I stared across the shimmering water, stuck in echoes of the waves and the cries of the birds, everything that held the bitter memories of a girl lost to this sea.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm still here." I sighed, tearing my eyes away from the ocean and forcing my breaths in and out. Just breathe. "Sorry, I… got distracted."

Howard made a noise of acknowledgment. "Perfectly understandable. I take it you found somewhere nice and secluded to rest and maybe have some fun?"

My eyes shifted once again to that damn red buoy. "Secluded is definitely a fitting word. Sorry, again, for giving you such short notice."

"Don't worry about it," he insisted. "I'm well versed in keeping the restaurant afloat through sudden changes."

A sharp tingle ran through my limbs, forcing them to recall the numb heaviness of fatigue that had stemmed from keeping me afloat on those damn waves. "Still, I'm sure Scott won't be too happy about it."

"Scott will understand. Enjoy your vacation, Lena, you've earned it."

"Yeah... I will," I lied. "Thanks again, Howard."

"See you in a few days."

I squeezed the closed phone in my hands trying to stave off the numbness before it spread to my legs. God, I was so stupid. I knew what Cape fucking Cod held… I knew what would happen when I got here and yet I came anyway. I always did. At this point, it was some sick and twisted ritual that forced me to face the past and move on. Except the last part never happened. Instead of sorting my shit out and moving on, I spent my time either avoiding it all with booze and drugs and fights or by stupidly diving headfirst into the worst of it all and reopening every damn wound I worked so hard to mend. I'm so fucking stupid, I told myself again as I walked back towards the house. This is fucking stupid!

The beach house was exactly how I left it, covered in broken glass and empty bottles of whatever booze she left lying around before she left. I walked over the glass, intentionally stepping down harder to ensure it’d shatter into even smaller more difficult pieces to clean up, and made my way to the kitchen. There was nothing to eat, never was, but there was always plenty of wine and whisky and right now that was all I needed. Pulling a bottle off the counter I sat down on the floor, looking out across the floor of glittering glass and dust, I flipped my phone open and dialed the number without sparing a second glance.

Ring. Ring. Ring. “Hello?” My breath caught in my throat as tears began to fill my eyes. “Just kiddin, you’ve reached Jack Harrow leave a message after the beep or whatever.” Beep.

“Hey pops,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “It’s Lena… I… I just wanted to hear your voice, you know that sentimental shit or whatever. Pete’s coming home next week. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s looking better than he has in years and I hope this is the thing that actually works for him, ya know? He deserves to get better and to live the rest of his life. Oz has the bar pretty much under control, though I think he misses having you around to mess with. Patrick’s doing right by the place, hasn’t changed a thing. I… I started working at 22West.” I laughed, imagining the slew of phrases he’d say to lovingly mock me. “I know, I know… I missed it. Well, the cooking part at least. Feeling like I was part of some top-notch kitchen and getting to watching rich people blow thousands of dollars on a chicken thigh or some wine. Everyone’s been nice, you’d like them.” After a minute of silence, I couldn’t help the soft sobs that worked their way out of my throat. “Daddy I… I… your jacket got ripped up. It was all my fault and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Dad.”

The machine beeped again, cutting off the rest of my sobs and pleas for forgiveness. I curled up on the floor and pressed the phone harder to my ear, listening to the ringing again and to his deep voice and quiet chuckle. “Hello? Just kiddin, you’ve reached Jack Harrow leave a message after the beep or whatever.”

Beep.

Cape fucking Cod. Jake hated the cape more than he hated anything, even Howard or Etienne. He hated the little shops and the ugly blue-chipping color that almost every building seemed to be painted. He hated how everyone would smile and wave as they recognized him and Simone making their way toward her mom's house. Why did I even fucking come back here? He asked himself scowling at everyone they passed by. Simone laughed ahead of him, catching up with someone she knew or something.

Jake watched her for a second and sighed. Simone asked him. That’s why he came. She told him she needed him around to support her while she dealt with her mom being her mom. It wasn’t that big of a deal… and he owed her that much at least after everything she did for him back then and still did for him now. If Simone needed him Jake would be there, no matter what.

“Moms pulling out all the stops,” Simone said falling into step beside him. “Cooking our favorite meal and all that good stuff.”

“Yippie,” Jake mumbled, pulling out the last of his cigarettes from the pack and getting ready to light it before Simone ripped it from between his lips with a sigh.

“Can you go just one day without smoking like a damn chimney?”

Jake clenched his jaw and tensely smiled at her. “Sure.”

She stopped walking and dug a small piece of paper out of her bag, holding it out to him. “I’m going to go get things settled at the house. You head to the store and pick up the wine and dessert for tonight?”

“I’m on it,” he assured her, separating from her to head off toward the small store he knew was just around the corner.

“And Jake!” She called after him, causing him to turn and look at her. “Thank you… for coming with me.”

Jake smiled, “No problem.”

The second Simone was out of sight Jake returned to his displeased scowling. Everything in this town reminded him of the childhood he couldn’t wait to get away from. Every street and person that walked along it contributed to the heavyweight that settled in his chest, growing tighter and tighter the longer he stayed here and breathed the thick salty air. As he turned the corner the weight on his chest lifted for a minute at the sight of that familiar red hair. No fucking way.

Lena walked down the sidewalk toward the small store with her head down and dark sunglasses covering her eyes. She looked like shit. Tired and dressed in clothes that looked old and tattered compared to what she normally wore. What made him narrow his eyes were the bruises that she hadn’t even bothered trying to conceal on her jaw and hands. When she walked into the store Jake smirked and made his way across the street. Maybe this trip would be good for something after all.

I said thank you to the young clerk and walked out of the store, holding my new pack of cigarettes in one hand and my lighter in the other. "Hey, can I bum one of those?"

"Damn it!" I hissed startled, turning to find Jake standing next to me, smirking like he’d just won the damn lottery. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He reached over and grabbed a cigarette out of my pack and scoffed. "It's a small town, princess. You want anonymity, you're gonna have to find it somewhere else."

I chose to ignore the new nickname as my head throbbed and I growled out, "Did you follow me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, " he replied, holding his hand out to me waiting for my lighter. "Simone has family here, our trip has been planned for weeks."

"So it's a coincidence then?"

"Yep." He nodded to my lighter. “Gonna help me out or?”

I handed it to him and turned to keep walking. Jake followed, of course, happily puffing smoke along the way. “Stop following me.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “But I’ve got so many questions!”

“I’m not answering questions today Jake. So, just I don’t know go do whatever the fuck you’re here to do.”

“Just one question, since I’m such a good friend,” he offered.

“Will it get you to leave me the fuck alone?”

He laughed. “Maybe.”

“Fine.”

“What are you doing in Cape Cod?” As we walked side by side I could see his eyes looking me up and down, likely focusing on how shitty I looked.

Fuck it. “I used to live around here during the summers with my mom.”

Jake stopped, pulling me with him. “No shit, really? Simone and I lived here. Just up the hill over there.”

“Great for you,” I replied pulling my arm free of his grasp. “Now, excuse me I have things to do.”

“If you lived here how come we never ran into each other?” Jake continued to follow me with his pestering questions.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “You got your question, Jake, now fuck off.”

He didn’t listen, of course, he didn’t. “Think I woulda remembered a girl like you around here.”

A girl like me… he wouldn’t have recognized the little girl I was back then. I hardly did. “I wasn’t like this back then.”

“No?” He hummed. “Were you fat or something?”

“No.” Fucking asshole.

“What then?”

"You really don't want to come with me," I warned him, choosing to stray as far from the topic as I could. "It's not your scene."

He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. "I'm up to try anything once."

With a poorly concealed smirk, I nodded. “Alright then, come on tough guy.”

The old gym made Jake’s eyes narrow, but he didn’t stop following behind me until we reached the basement door and the burly man that stood in front of it. He nodded to Jake. “He with you?”

“Yup,” I replied looking back at him over my shoulder. “Unless he wants to leave?”

“And miss out on all this fun mystery shit, nah,” he replied with a quirked brow. A challenge.

The big man gave us both some garbled warning before moving to the side and letting us descend the dark stairs into the brightly lit basement filled with a crowd of people cheering and shouting at the two fighters in the middle of the room. It was hardly professional, but I didn’t need it to be.

Jake looked around curiously, though I could see a shred of doubt in the way his eyebrows creased. “You don’t have to stay.”

He looked down at me with narrow eyes. “You fight people in your free time?”

“Not always,” I answered. “Just when there’s a lot of shit I need to work through. Having something to punch usually helps. It’s an old habit of mine, not exactly healthy but it works.” I set my bag down on one of the shitty tables they set up off to the side of all the action. “Like I said, you don’t have to stay.”

I was expecting him to make some excuse to save face and hurry out of there while he still could, but Jake surprised me again, sitting down next to my things. “You think I’m just gonna leave you here to get the shit beat out of you?”

“I’m not gonna get the shit beat out of me,” I assured him with a smile. “I am rather good at this.”

“Yeah, those bruises you’re sporting sure instill a lot of confidence.”

“I gotta give them a few hits or no one will fight me.”

Jake chuckled, settling further into the seat. “Well, when you need help limping home I’ll be here.”

Wrapping my hands I rolled my eyes. “I should just take my frustration out on you instead.”

He opened his arms, making room in his lap. “I’m definitely down for that.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied. “At least my offer won’t give you any new bruises.” He paused. “Scratch that, at least my offer won’t give you any bruises you won’t enjoy getting.”

Once my hands were properly wrapped I turned. “Try not to get your ass kicked while we’re here? I know it’ll be a real challenge for you.”

Jake hadn’t expected, well, this. Most girls he knew would spend bad days drinking wine and watching some shitty movie or shopping to take the edge off. Lena Harrow was not like most people, he’d quickly discovered. Watching her move in the shitty ring, dodging hits and landing even more was a surreal experience. Sweat glistened on her body, making her face practically glow in this brutal way that made him question a few things about himself. The satisfaction and pride that swelled in his gut at the sight of her taking down opponent after opponent was something he wasn’t expecting either.

Lena wasn’t much to him, a friend maybe but that was still a relatively new thing, and even that was forged in his underlying desire to get her to accept the mutual attraction and act on it. Jake tried to remind himself in the moments when Lena treated him like a friend that it wasn’t real, that she was just another back waiter, cook, or whatever, that he wanted to fuck. She wasn’t Simone. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Lena was something else, though, something that Jake was more afraid of than he’d ever let on.

As her third opponent hit the floor she turned, her tired eyes gleaming and a bright smile on her face. She was beautiful, even covered in sweat and blood and lit up by the shitty basement lights. She was beautiful and Jake fucking hated it.

I sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the sting of the alcohol-soaked rag that Jake lightly pressed to my scratched-up knuckles.

"So, Hurricane Harrow? That another one of your boxing names?"

I shook my head, carefully undoing the rest of the wrap with my free hand. "It's more of a term… My dad's family comes from a long line of boxers. People would chant Hurricane Harrow when one of them got so mad in the ring that they stopped caring about rules and just went for blood." Jake was quiet, his blue eyes watching me with shockingly clear concern. "When my dad started teaching me how to fight he told me I had demons in me. He said the fire and rage they gave me was useful in a fight, but I needed to control it or it'd consume me."

"Harrows seek out fights like damn bloodhounds," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I know you're gonna keep this goin til you can't move, so the least I can do is show ya how to be good at it."

I looked at him through my one good eye. "You're serious? You're gonna let me fight?"

Dad smiled. "I'm gonna teach ya, never said I'd encourage your little alleyway brawls. There's a catch though."

"Course there is."

"You keep those demons in check for me, yeah?" He grinned, ruffling my hair. "Last thing I want is to end up lookin like you."

"You're such an asshole!" I shrieked with a laugh, shoving his hand away and sorely standing up. "You're on pops."

Jake pressed the cloth down a little harder, but even then he was being so gentle I’d almost forgotten it was him here and not someone else, like Peter or Patrick. “Everyones got demons Lena, not just you.”

"My brother doesn’t… not like me at least." I smiled a little, the bitter feeling making my chest tighten. "Peter has always been kind and good… Everything I'm not. He never fought out of anger, but out of passion. He loved the sport… And he was just so fucking nice about it. Why? Why did I have to be the one with all the anger?" It was a question I’d asked a lot, one that I already knew the answer to, but Jake answered it anyway.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “But if it’s any consolation I kinda liked seeing that side of you.”

I looked up at him and laughed nervously. “Oh?”

Jake nodded, continuing his careful cleaning of my hands. “It was badass.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled, wincing when he rubbed a particularly sore spot.

"And hot."

"Shut up."

After a beat or two Jake said, “Your dad would be proud of you, Lena."

Clenching my jaw to keep the ugly noises trapped in my throat I nodded and wipe a tear from my eye before it could fall. “Thanks, Jake. I’m… oddly glad you decided to follow me.”

He smiled. “I’m great company, I know.”

“Your confidence is truly an inspiration,” I said, kicking his shin lightly. “Come on, I’ll buy you dinner as a thank you.”

He helped me up and fell into step beside me as we made our way out of the locker room and down the street, leaving the coppery tang of blood and the grunts of blows landing far behind us. This was something new, having someone around me while I was living it up at rock bottom. It felt both nice and unsettling. What was even worse was the fact that Jake didn’t judge me. He didn’t say anything or give me a judgmental look no matter how many cigarettes I smoked or glasses of whisky I ordered. Jake just stayed. He talked about his childhood here, or lack thereof, and spoke about how much he hated the stupid town. Jake hated Cape Cod almost as much as I did and I liked it.

We sat down outside, ordering a simple plate of cheeseburgers and french fries both of us insisting that fish was fucking disgusting. While we waited for our food Jake took another cigarette out of my bag and stole my lighter. “Are you planning on reimbursing me for my cigarettes?”

“Fuck no,” he replied inhaling the smoke.

“Oh, so you’re stealing from me then?”

Those blue eyes sparkled. “Says the girl that stole a drug dealer's motorcycle.”

“Touche.”

The food got brought out to our table and I instantly took hold of the large burger before looking up at Jake, who looked at me curiously. "I'm not gonna eat this all dainty like," I warned.

Jake shrugged with a roguish smile. "By all means, chow down, princess."

"Stop calling me that,” I grumbled.

"Nah," he said, blowing smoke across the table before dropping the rest of his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out with his boot. "I like the way it sounds. And you clearly enjoy it."

"Ass."

I took a big bite of my burger, maintaining eye contact with the smirking Jake as he did the same. The two of us tried hard not to laugh and spit our food out. Jake managed to chew his faster, wiping the condiments from the corner of his mouth as he chuckled. “That was impressive.”

With a little bow, I swallowed my food and laughed. “Never seen a girl almost choke on a cheeseburger before?”

“No, that was definitely a first.”

“I aim to please,” I replied digging back into my food.

Jake finished his food first and had quietly taken up smoking as the wind began to grow colder the more the sun started to set. “So, seriously, how come I never saw you around here when we were younger?”

Part of me didn’t want to answer, but the other part looked at his totally idiotically handsome face and the sincerity that had taken to his features. I shrugged. “I don’t know. My mom and I never really stayed long and we mostly kept to ourselves. I wasn’t exactly the same as I am now.”

“I mean I figured the boobs and ass weren’t as noticeable then,” he teased with a smirk. “But that hair is hard to miss.”

“Believe it or not I used to hate my hair. I’d always wear a hood or a hat just to try and blend in a bit.” I sighed. “Even dyed it one year. It was horrible and I regretted it instantly! I was a lot less cool than I am now.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jake insisted.

“It’s true!” I laughed. “I was a geek that spent all day inside practicing the piano or cello or ballet. I didn’t really do much during the summers with my mom.”

He nodded, an odd look shining in his eyes. “Think we woulda been friends back then?”

“Depends, were you nearly as annoying then as you are now?”

Jake laughed, loud and full, and the sound made me feel something deep in my chest, something I never felt out here. “Oh, I was just as annoying.”

“Then I think we would’ve been quite the pair.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jake leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on the table. “Can I get one last question?”

I sighed, exaggerating with a smile. “I guess.”

“Why’d you run?”

The image of my dad's jacket torn apart and hanging in my hands was seared into my memory as I bit my lip and looked anywhere but Jake’s face. “That fucking leather jacket. It was my dad's. Was… the last thing he gave me. I’d been sitting with him in that fucking hospital for days when he just held it out to me and told me to look after it for him for a minute.” I chuckled a bit. “He was convinced one of the nurses was going to try and steal it. I… I put it on when I went down to the cafeteria to get us some food and when I got back…” Blinking the tears from my eyes I shook my head. “He was gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake said. “I figured it meant something to you, but I didn’t know it was like that.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “I was the one that was supposed to look after it and I didn’t.”

He shook his head and reached across the table to take hold of one of my hands. “It wasn’t your fault either. If anything let's blame the idiot that tore it up.”

Jake’s phone ringing broke the quiet moment between us as we both pulled away from each other and he reached into his pocket to answer. “Hey… No, I know… Alright chill out, I’m on my way… I said I’m on my way Simone, Jesus.”

I stood up and placed the tip on the table. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah,” he sighed following my lead. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’m a big girl Jake,” I replied with a tense smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, but I could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe me. “Well, if you end up needing anything call me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

“Yeah, you do,” he replied with a grin. “I put it in your phone back at the gym.”

Scoffing I started walking. “What an invasion of my privacy.”

He laughed and shrugged. “Try not to get too fucked up out there.”

“You too, tough guy.”

The quietness of the house usually never bothered me, but as I downed my fourth shot of tequila it suddenly grew almost unbearable. I was used to being alone… at least I had been, but now. I wanted to go home. I wanted to sleep in my own bed or even in the uncomfortable cot next to Peter. But I couldn’t go home, not when the only thing keeping me from falling apart was booze and cigarettes. I couldn’t. If I did I’d go straight to Dom and I’d fuck all my progress up. I’d fuck everything up.

Out the window, the red buoy seemed to glow in the orange light. The numbness in my hands slowly started to return as I twirled my phone in my hand and considered calling Jake. He was busy no doubt, with Simone and whatever it was they came here for. He’s busy, I told myself setting the phone down on the counter and committing to the idiotic idea that had settled into my head after the second shot. I almost slipped on the shards of glass as I made my way out the front door, and just started walking. I forced myself to breathe deeply, even though the air smelt rancid the closer I got to the ocean.

Driving a boat drunk is not something I’d recommend, but somehow I made it past the red buoy and managed to stop the damn thing in the perfect spot. Staring out across the shimmering water I could feel the panic rising in my chest, could feel it but idiotically didn’t even try to stop and think. No more thinking. I stepped off the edge and plunged into the cold water. No more thinking.

Jake couldn’t get out of that house fast enough. He’d forgotten to get the wine and dessert, which made Simone almost unbearable through dinner. Her mom was sweet like she always was, but it made Jake feel uncomfortable, reminding him too much of what little he remembered of his mom. He excused himself, holding his camera up and telling them he was going to get some shots of the beach before the sunset.

So there he was, walking along the beach next to the docks, taking pictures of the ocean and the sand. He aimed the lens out onto the water, focusing on an empty boat and snapping the picture before his brain registered the name neatly painted on the side. Harrow. A pit settled in his stomach as he pulled his camera away from his eyes for a moment before looking again.

He looked around the boat for a moment before he zoomed out a way. The camera lens focused on the floating red buoy and Jake felt his chest tighten at the sight of Lena, swimming sluggishly behind it. “Lena?”

She disappeared under the water for a minute too long and Jake could hardly breathe as his feet moved quickly toward the boat at the dock, the one he’d used to dare kids to take for joyrides because the idiot owners always left the keys in it. He hopped in and looked back out at the water as Lena’s red hair resurfaced and her pale hands gripped onto the buoy for dear life as the waves crashed over her. “LENA!”

God fucking damn it! He cursed, turning the engine on and hauling ass out onto the water toward her. The boat cutting through the water echoed distantly in his ears as that hideous fucking fear consumed him just like it did when he was a kid. He could hear the police quietly whispering about his mom as he sat on the stairs of his old home and waited. He could recall the sad smile on Simone’s face as she tucked him into his new bed for the first time and curled up beside him stroking his hair while he cried. At that moment he remembered what it felt like when he’d first tried to drown himself. The breathlessness. The pressure.

His mom walked into the ocean and didn’t come back. He’d be fucking damned if Lena was going to do the same.

Every inch of my body shook as I clung to that damn buoy. What the fuck was I thinking? Who the hell just jumps into the fucking ocean to try and prove some stupid point to a mother that’s not even here?! I could hear the water around me, the engine of some boat or another driving past, but everything was muffled as the panic began to overtake everything else. “Sink or swim.” I’d sunk. Sunk and fully settled into everything she said I would be. “You’re going to regret this, little one. Not now, maybe not even in a few years, but one day, when you’ve accomplished nothing in your life you’ll regret this moment.”

“LENA!” Jake’s muffled voice echoed in my ears as my head was pushed below the water again. “Lena give me your fucking hand!”

Jake? I turned my head the second I came back up to find him leaning over the edge of some boat, reaching out for me. His blue eyes were wide and full of fear. “J-J-Ja-ake?”

“If you don’t give me your hand right now I swear to fucking god I’m going to drag you by the hair into this boat Lena!” He reached out to me more as his voice turned desperate, pleading, “Just give me your hand.”

Shaking I reached out to him and numbly latched onto his arm as he pulled me up into the boat. Jake shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around my front before pulling me into his arms and rubbing my cold skin. As my breaths quickened and the memories of all the other times I’d failed replayed over and over again in my head as I mumbled.

He didn’t know what I was talking about and honestly, he probably didn’t care. Jake just held onto me tight, whispering to me, “I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe. Please just breathe.”

By the time my panic attack had settled the sun was gone and the stars filled the sky. Jake and I sat in the boat, looking up at the sky, neither of us sure where to start. “My mom died out here. In this water.”

I turned my head and looked at him. Though his face remained stoic I could see the pain in his eyes as he looked up at the sky. “I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine, most people don’t.”

His mom died… drown and yet he’d come to get me. He must’ve been so angry, so scared… I shook my head. “It’s not fine. You had to come out here and drag me out of the water your mom died in. I can’t even imagine how terrifying that must have been.” Jake’s face only twitched into a moment of fearful sorrow. I leaned further into him. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

“Why were you out here?” He asked, voice cracking slightly. “Why the fuck were you out in the middle of the fucking ocean?”

I could have given him whatever answer I wanted. Jake didn’t know the truth and he didn’t have to. No one did. The longer I sat there, covered in his leather jacket and being warmed by his body heat the more difficult it was to keep the truth inside. Eventually, I sighed and the words began to slip out, “I was never good at the piano or the cello or ballet. No matter how many hours I spent practicing… no matter how badly my fingers bled or my feet ached from the effort I put into the stupid things it was never enough.” I tapped on my leg for a minute, working up the courage to continue through the lump in my throat. “My mom insisted I wasn’t trying hard enough. Glovers are hard workers with talent and determination and in her head, I lacked both. To her, I was just lazy. So… when I’d keep getting the notes wrong or messing up the routine she’d plop me in a boat, drive out past the buoy and tell me to get in the water.” Jake was watching me closely now, I could feel the heat of his eyes, but I didn’t have the heart to look at him. “I’d swim for hours before she’d start the boat and tell me to sink or swim. She’d leave me there to swim back to shore myself. I never could… I’d always end up hanging off that stupid buoy until one of the neighbors came and got me. She wouldn’t even let me back in the house when I got back so I’d have to stay with the old couple across the street for the night.”

“That's… That’s fucked up.” He mumbled.

“Yeah,” I wiped the tears from my eyes and glanced back at him. “After a while, I went to live with my dad and brother. She signed over custody without a fight and told him good luck.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake said, his tone low and unsure. He clearly wasn’t expecting all this and sure as hell didn’t know how to respond to any of it. “What is it about this fucking place that makes everything just shit?”

I laughed softly and shook my head. “I don’t know. But, hey, at least we turned out only marginally fucked up.”

Jake laughed at that. “I fucking hate it here.”

“Me too,” I replied. “It’s probably the worst place in the world.”

“And yet neither of us seems to be able to stay away.” He sighed. “Maybe we’re more fucked up than we think.”

"Let's make each other a promise then," I said, holding my pinky out to him. He visibly bit back a snarky remark about the "childish" action. "To never come back here again."

The blue of his eyes sparkled as he thought about the offer for a minute before he nodded, reaching out to link his pinky with mine. "Yeah, okay."

"Fuck the cape," I said, my pinky squeezing his.

Jake smiled. "Fuck the cape."

I stood in the aisle of the store, looking at the condiments blankly while I tried to kill time. Mom was in another meeting, like always, and I'd been practicing for hours before I decided it was time for a break. So there I was, standing in the shitty store staring at condiments.

"Hey, pass me a thing of mustard?" A voice asked from beside me.

"Sure," I replied, bored.

The boy smiled crookedly as I handed the mustard to him. His ocean-blue eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights and his dark hair was sticking up in several places. "Thanks."

"No problem."

He tilted his head. "You new around here? I don't think I've seen you before."

"Not new," I said. "But no, you probably haven't seen me."

He was about to ask another question when a blonde girl rounded the corner and gave him a scolding face. "There you are! You can't just wander off!"

"I didn't wander off." He rolled his eyes. "I was getting the mustard."

I silently excused myself from their argument, tucking my red hair deeper under my hood and making my way past them toward the front door. I needed to practice some more anyway, not stand around some store with arguing strangers.

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elialys · 1 year

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If a day goes by without me pointing out how upset I am over that damn story I'm writing, you'll know something's wrong.

Night falls, and still it isn’t over, the evening made worse by the people in the apartment above, who just had a baby a month or so ago.

The newborn cries, and Tess wants to scream, eventually leaving the bed to roam the rest of their place like a caged animal.

As if on cue, the radio comes on.

Why do birds suddenly appear

Every time you are near?

She doesn’t even need to check the book, familiar with Frank’s playlist by now.

Seventies. New stuff to trade.

“We can go tomorrow.”

She’s not aware she’s been pacing the living room until his voice causes her to stop, Joel not as asleep as she thought he was, standing in the doorway.

His suggestion confuses her more than anything else. Although they’ve now been trading with Bill and Frank for a couple of years, he never fails to fight it, always coming up with various excuses as to why they shouldn’t go.

Before she can voice her skepticism, probably more harshly than she usually would, the baby overhead starts crying again, and Tess clams up, shuddering almost violently.

Joel doesn’t say a word, moving to the radio instead. He doesn’t actually turn it off, as she thought he would. He turns the volume up, in a way that is bound to piss off all of their neighbors, although none of them will dare give them shit about it.

It does the trick, masking the baby’s cries, enough for Tess to start breathing again. It will be a while before the shaking stops.

She reopens her eyes when she senses Joel approaching, having come much closer to her; she herself isn’t trying to mask anything anymore as she looks up at him. When he raises a hand to her cheek, it is with a gentleness she rarely sees in him, although she’s known for a long, long time that it is there, buried underneath his numbness and his grief, some of it reflecting in his eyes tonight.

She realizes then that he knows. Of course, he knows.

When Tess allows herself to give in to that heavy weight fracturing her heart, slumping against him, he wraps her in his arms, until she’s swallowed in his warmth, soothed by his smell, Joel swaying them slowly on the spot to the music that will play endlessly until they respond.

Not yet.

For now, she lets herself be held, as they wait for tomorrow to come.

#joel's a closed-off dummy but he loved her your honor #i'll finish this fic in 2024 at this pace #joel x tess #tess x joel #tess servopoulos #joel miller #the last of us #writing #tlou hbo

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bulldyke-rider · 2 years

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Okay, I think it's time to maybe talk about what has helped with my hypochondria. Because I'm doing a lot better. And when I googled how to deal with hypochondria, basically nothing helpful comes up.

So here's some stuff I think you should keep in mind:

1) the only advice I got online was to not Google symptoms. I mostly took that advice. Idk if it helped, but it didn't hurt.

2) the symptoms for damn near everything is the same. Just keep that in your mind. Shit going wrong in your body all feels pretty similar regardless of the severity.

3) anxiety can do so much to your body. Like legit so much. It can give you really bad heartburn, it can make your hands and face go numb, it can make your asthma flare up, it fucked with my fucking iron levels. So that feeling you have, 95% chance it's just anxiety and is actually quite low stakes.

4) idk if anxiety does something to everyone's iron. But iron deficiency symptoms are kinda scary. They terrified my sister. Feeling like you're cold but from the inside is just an iron problem. It also causes fogginess, fatigue, dizziness, and it can make it hard to swallow. My tell tale signs are feeling cold from the inside, having bruises you don't remember getting, and getting dizzy or dark vision when you stand up.

Things I think you should do:

1) I literally take a deep breath and move when I start to get anxious. Just a shift in position. Usually I change how my head and neck are positioned because that's what helps me the most. It works most of the time. Sometimes it works for a long period of time, sometimes it works really briefly. But this is when you can make sure that you note that you did briefly feel better. That's a sign that nothing is actually wrong.

2) note when little shit gives you relief. Even if it's brief. And yes, this can be helpful to try stuff again. But the main point here is that it's important to note that there is stuff that's helping. This will help your thought process while the actual action is mostly just helping you physically.

3) note when the thought begets the feeling. I catch myself having an anxious thought and then getting physically anxious a lot. Remind yourself that the thought came first when it does.

4) try to burp. May sound stupid, may not be helpful to you, but I get anxious any time I need to burp. And I'm more attuned to that feeling now. I recognize it far earlier than I normally would've. You might be like this about different things.

5) eat through the nausea if you have really long lasting nausea. I didn't for a while. But then I started and it tamed the nausea.

6) bear down when your heart beats super fast. It will usually relieve it.

7) I mentally and emotionally doomsday prep sometimes. This may be counterproductive for some people. But it works for me. "So what? What if such and such happens? Then I'll just..." and continue on with some little plan that will make everything okay in the end.

And this is all I can give right now, but if I think of more shit that can help, trust me to post that shit.

#hypochondria #mental health shit

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 1 year

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Ghost Story - Chapter 38

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 1586

Warnings: Swearing, allusion to suicidal tendencies

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: None

Chapter Songs: Stay Fire Away

****

Rooster

For the second time in his life, Bradley found himself drifting toward the snowy ground of enemy territory, except all he could focus on was not his own safety but the smoldering remains of two trashed fighter jets, their wreckage so mangled, Rooster couldn't determine which belonged to Ghost and which to the enemy. When his feet hit the ground, he detangled himself from the parachute and ran as fast as his legs could carry him through the deep snow to the first plane. Upon reaching it, the frazzled pilot had trouble figuring out which end was the cockpit, but it didn't matter because Bradley found the burned, motionless body in the remnants of the wreck. The fire destroyed any evidence of who it might be, so Rooster had no idea if he was looking at the dead body of the enemy or Ghost.

There's still another wreck. Please let it be hers. Please let her have survived this. Rooster pleaded silently, setting off again with a massive effort. He sprinted to the next crash site. If possible, this one was in even worse shape than the last. If the pilot of the previous one hadn't survived, then this one certainly hadn't, especially if they hadn't ejected. Rooster scanned the charred remains, searching for any sign of Ghost. He was about to give up when he saw it.

The dagger.

Somehow, miraculously, it'd survived the air collision and the fiery crash into the ground. Rooster sank to his knees and picked up the weapon with a trembling hand. He flicked the blade out and, in doing so, revealed the name 'Ghost' in cracked transparent letters on the relatively pitch-black handle. This was her crash site.

Rooster closed the dagger and clutched it in his hand, tears burning the backs of his eyes. With no one but God as his witness, Rooster screamed, letting loose his agony, despair, and pain. He'd lost his dad, his mom, Charlie, and Ice; he'd damn near lost Maverick; now, he'd lost Ghost. How would he recover from this? She died believing herself to be at odds with him, with Hangman... she died believing she had no family left, that that somehow made her life less valuable than others. But if Rooster understood anything in his life, it was that family wasn't always blood. Family was the people who were there for you through thick and thin, who didn't leave when you were at your worst, at your lowest point in life. Ghost had been his family. She'd been Hangman's family. She'd been Bryn's and Maverick's and Penny's.

"I'm sorry, Annalise," he choked out. "I'm so sorry. You-"

Rooster trailed off, the knot in his throat and the numbness in his bones destroying any and all functioning abilities. All Rooster could do was stare at the plane's wreckage, the final resting place of Ghost and his heart.

His eyes trailed from the wreck to the black smoke rising into the brutally cold, cloudless sky. Through it all, he caught a glimpse of something orange in the distance between the dark tree trunks. It struck Rooster as odd. In the middle of Russian territory, with nothing surrounding him but a small field in the middle of a giant forest, there shouldn't have been anything other than white, green, and blue. So what was it? Unless...

Slowly, with a Herculean effort, he stood and cautiously began the trek toward the unknown object, not daring to hope that it could be what he thought it might. However, as he got closer, he saw the orange color belonged to a piece of fabric, and one he recognized all too well.

A parachute.

Could it be...? A flicker of hope rose in his chest, and without considering the fact it may belong to the enemy, Rooster raced over. There, slumped against a tree motionless, was Annalise Winchester.

"Ghost," he breathed, dropping beside her. He ripped off his glove and pressed two fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. While he could feel one, Rooster couldn't decipher if it was his own or hers. After all, his heart thundered at a dangerous speed. If it went any faster, it might burst. He grasped her shoulder instead, gently shaking her. "Ghost, can you hear me? Ghost? Come on, don't do this to me. Give me a sign you're alive. Please don't die on me. Don't..."

The smallest of groans escaped her lips, causing Bradley to breathe, "Oh, thank God."

He removed her helmet before cupping her face. "Ghost? You with me?" he asked anxiously, watching her eyes strain to open. "Hey, hey, hey, stay with me. Look at me, okay? Look at me!"

Ghost's eyes fluttered open, slowly lifting to meet his. Rooster let out a shaky, relieved breath, unable to believe that, against all odds, Ghost had survived the crash. Maybe her words held some truth: ghosts can't die a second time.

"Rooster?" she murmured, slowly becoming more alert.

"Yeah, it's me. I've got you," he said weakly, pulling Ghost into a hug and burying his face into the crook of her neck, unwilling to let her go. "I'm here."

"Bradley..."

He reluctantly pulled away, figuring she needed air to gather her senses without him smothering her. "Hmm?"

Ghost stared at him for a few seconds, analyzing the situation before her. In the blink of an eye, he saw the realization hit her, and with a shake of her head, any trace of disorientation disappeared.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" she demanded, whacking him so violently and unexpectedly on the chest, it sent him off balance and toppling onto his back. "You should be back on the carrier by now!"

Oh, she and Maverick have to be fucking related somehow. Rooster thought, her words too much of an eerie, albeit irritating, echo of the precise thing his dad had said when Rooster saved his life a few months ago. Rooster angrily pushed himself up, snapping back, "What did you expect me to do? Leave you here to die?"

"Yes! You think I took out that plane so you could be down on the ground with me?"

"For your information, I got shot down by a different plane!"

"What do you mean a diff- we got all of them," Ghost interrupted, shaking her head.

"Obviously we didn't because it popped up out of nowhere like a God damn Jack-in-the-box."

Ghost grabbed her left wrist, wincing as she massaged it, but her voice was full of concern when she said, "Tell me you couldn't escape it. Tell me you didn't let them shoot you down on purpose."

Rooster stayed quiet, unable to bring himself to give her a truthful response. His silence gave her the answer anyway. Bowing her head, she hissed, "God... damn it, Rooster. I promised Maverick I'd get you back alive!"

"And I promised myself I wasn't leaving here without you, so either we both get back alive to Maverick, or we die out here together."

"Don't say that. Don't say we'll die to- what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't."

"Obviously!"

"I couldn't leave you, Ghost. I couldn't turn my back on you again. Look, when we get back, I swear I will leave you alone for good," he replied dejectedly, heart breaking at the idea of doing so, "but for now, we need to figure out how we're going to get out of this."

"You don't get it," she said sadly. "No one's coming for us. There's no enemy base nearby that we can sneak onto and steal a plane. I'm not Maverick. I can't pull a miracle out of my ass to save us, so our only options, as far as I can see, are we're either captured by the enemy or die in the cold."

"Was that your plan, then? To die here?"

"I wasn't planning on dying today," Ghost retorted sharply.

"But? I know you, Annalise. I know there's a 'but' at the end of that statement.

She hesitated momentarily, then sighed and said softly, "But I wasn't planning on making it back alive either. I heard hypothermia is a painless, relatively peaceful death. If I somehow survived the crash or managed to eject in time, the elements would get to me sooner or later. I could just... go to sleep and never wake up."

Rooster's shoulders sagged, a horrible question rising in his head: she may not have planned on dying that day, but did she want to? He couldn't bring himself to ask it, afraid of her possible answer. He scanned the surrounding forest, searching for something, anything, that might be of help to them. He found nothing.

"I'm sorry, Bradley," Ghost whispered. "I should've done more. If I had paid more attention and hadn't gotten hit by that stupid AA gun-"

"It's not your fault. That hit was one in a million. Here." Rooster handed her dagger over. "I found this at your crash site."

Ghost took it with a shaky hand. "I can't believe it survived. I-"

She stopped abruptly at the sound of a jet roaring overhead. Rooster looked up at it too. He didn't recognize it as one from their carrier, meaning only one thing: "That's an enemy plane."

The couple watched it descend behind a low mountain and disappear for good. Ghost stood up, wincing. "It must've returned to base. I don't remember that being in the briefing, though."

"Maybe it's a hidden base?" Rooster suggested.

"Only one way to find out. Let's go."

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina87 @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons @harper1666 @shadeops21 @double-j @copaceticwriter @rotating-obsessions @sharkprestige @thedarkinmansfield @lapilark @mickeyluvs @starshipfantasy @bennypears00 @mandowife221b @the-navistar-carol @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @carmellasworld @0hb0llocks @nicangelinee @summ3rlotus @3picklesinajar @magentamistress @the-other-hawkeye @elisha-chloe @emilymarie105 @persephone11110 @luckyladycreator2 @boogdleyboo @k0k3 @bibissparkles @lilmonstrjedi @stinkyrat09 @cocoag19 @suburbzchick @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goodstuff28 @georgiasimpson95 @horselovers2016 @tanithpriad125 @davidshawnsown @sowolfstudentme @agagafafa @callmemana @sec17 @brxklyn15 @h0ppy0the0sheep @tomanybandstolove @abigailannz @mini-bee-bee @super-btstrash-posts

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32 Chp 33 Chp 34 Chp 35 Chp 36 Chp 37 Chp 38

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pendraechon · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐲.

summary: you and akaashi have been together for a long time. things are fine. just fine. but someone has to break eventually, right?

word count: 0.7k

warning(s): angst, no comfort. akaashi’s been a bad boyfriend.

a/n: idk weird way to start off my journey but here we are. i feel like akaashi wouldn’t be the type to confront a problem in a relationship even if it was decaying

akaashi knows he can't keep doing this to you.

the sigh he lets out does little to alleviate the guilt that crushes him as he realizes he has to cancel your plans once more. he feels numb as he slowly picks up his phone. numb as he dials your number. waits for you to pick up.

the ringing in his ear is damn near haunting. it feels like a lifetime before you pick up, but in reality was probably only a few seconds. "hey, keiji," you say. there's a musicality to your voice, a buoyancy that he had nearly forgotten as the past months became missed date after missed date. "are you almost home?"

the question nearly breaks him. there's faint upbeat music playing in the background, and he can picture the scene in his head.

you, sitting at your vanity in the apartment you two share, bundled in a fluffy robe. music plays cheerily from the old turntable you two found in a record shop during one of your first dates. different brands of makeup are messily piled on your desk as you prepare for the evening. the outfit you had picked out last night is laid out on the bed, and the humidity from the shower is slowly seeping into the bedroom. he can almost smell your perfume. the simple signs of domesticity taunt him, just out of reach.

"hey," he says quietly. he swallows, his throat suddenly dry. his mouth opens, but no more words come out.

you hear it in his tone. despite the distance that has slowly crept into your relationship, you know this part of the game all too well.

the music stops.

"can't make it tonight?" you ask neutrally. he suppresses a shudder at the sudden absence of happiness, knows it's all his fault.

"i'm sorry," he says mechanically. "i need to review this manuscript so i can prepare for tomorrow’s meeting. we can reschedule for next week-"

"it's okay, keiji," you say wearily. the days have weathered you down into a shuffling lump of resigned acceptance. "i'll call the restaurant and cancel our reservation." the word again goes unspoken, but both of you hear it loud and clear.

“i’m sorry,” he says once more. “i love you.” it’s the only thing he can think to say at this point. he waits for a response, but it’s not the exact one he wants.

“i know,” you hum. the line goes dead.

the rest of his shift is spent with a crumpled focus. his motions are automatic, and by the time he gets in his car to leave, he can’t remember the last piece he had been reading.

when he comes home later that night, the apartment is dark and cold. his mumbled, "tadaima," goes without a response.

he knows he shouldn't be disappointed. the days where you used to wait up for him are long over; how often could he ask you to stay up this late? it was fine when it was one night every few months. but as his job demanded more, the more he caved in. one night a month became one night a week, and soon he was working overtime nearly every day.

he can't keep doing this to you, or to himself.

he creeps into the bedroom, just barely able to make out your shape on the bed. a strange relief settles over him then. he hadn’t even realized he’d been so tense. he needs you here with him, even now when he’s so effectively pushed you away. he exhales quietly to release the tension and crosses the room to the bathroom.

once he finishes preparing for bed, he silently lowers himself down next to you under the covers, trying his best not to disturb you despite the fatigue screaming at him to plop down. your breathing is even enough, but he can't quite tell if you're asleep or not. he reaches a hand out to your side, hesitates. wonders when he started to hesitate touching you.

the desire to hold you outweighs his consideration. he wraps his arm around your side and buries his face in your neck.

you shift a bit in his hold. "keiji," you sigh sleepily. "okaeri."

"i'm sorry if i woke you," he says softly.

you don't respond. you're silent for so long, he begins to wonder if you've fallen asleep again. but just as he begins to drift off, you speak once more.

"i love you, keiji,” you whisper. it’s the affectionate remark you’d struggled to give on the phone, he notes. his heart lifts, only to drop at your next words. “i can't do this anymore."

with that, you sit up and slip out of his grip.

#dryad writes #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi x you #akaashi keiji angst #akaashi angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x you #haikyuu!! angst #hq!!#hq!! x reader #hq!! x you #hq!! angst #unsweetened sap

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silverwings22 · 1 year

Text

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 41: Hands- Jewel

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness

Chapter Warnings: Chronic illness, talk of death, suicidal ideation, injury, abandonment, religious trauma, the horror of war and it's aftermath

Translations: riduur: spouse

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The cup of tea sat in Miria’s hands, the Jedi looking quietly out at Ord Mantell as she sat on the ramp of the Havoc Marauder. The Batch had gone into the bar and she'd declined to join them, instead spending a few moments with the cup Tech had made for her.

It was lidded, with a gravity straw to prevent her from spilling if she dropped it. It reminded her in a numb kind of way of the sippy cups she'd once given crechelings.

That felt like a lifetime ago. Back when she'd tucked little ones into bed and thought she'd be content, before she ever dared dream of a future spent in a sniper’s arms.

Before it was all snuffed out; both those little lives and her dreams.

"You okay?" Hunter's voice cut into her thoughts. She'd been sitting here longer than she'd realized, heedless of her nails bending as she dug them into the metal of the cup. Not that she could feel them.

"Just thinking." She said quietly.

"You looked like you were a million lightyears away." Her Sergeant, her faithful friend, sat down beside her. "We're all worried. You've been like this since Kamino."

Miria shuddered against her will at the memory of Tipoca City, crumbling around her at the Order of the Empire. Just like everything else. "You saw what happened, Hunter."

"That's why I'm worried." He leaned a little into her shoulder, where he knew she could feel it. "I don't know what all that Sith did to you."

"Vader wasn't the most painful thing that day." Miria lifted her cup to her lips quietly. "Cruel as he was, I've been tortured by the Dark Side before. He didn't break me."

"Something did, Miri. I can see it in your eyes." Hunter frowned. "Talk to me. Please."

The Jedi closed her eyes, like she could hide what he saw in them. She knew it was fruitless. "Crosshair did."

Hunter shook his head. "You said you think that chip is still in there. Don't listen to any lie that comes out of his mouth."

"But he was right, Hunter." She whispered. "Everything he said, he had a point."

"You can't really believe all that shit about the Empire-"

"Not the Empire. About him." She sighed.

"What do you mean?" Hunter's tattooed forehead creased.

Miria fumbled the cup and he caught it and set it aside. Frustration splashed across her cheeks for a moment before the melancholy returned. "I hear his words constantly in my head." She finally breathed. "And I know he was right. We weren't loyal to him."

Hunter jumped. "Miri, he tried to kill us. That's the only reason we left him on Kamino the first time. It wasn't safe for you to have him on board with the chip."

"Damn my safety." She snapped tiredly. "I'm dying anyway."

"Miri…"

She shook her head. "I know why you had to make the choice, Hunter. In your position, I'd have done the same. But… we made a mistake after that. And we kept making mistakes. I kept making mistakes. And the love of my life is paying for them."

Hunter softened. "You didn't, Miri. You did what had to be done to protect everyone."

"I didn't protect everyone. Do you honestly believe, if anyone else in the squad's chip had been the one to go off instead of Crosshair, that he'd ever have stopped looking for them?" She put her face in her hands. "Instead, we put our efforts into building a life. Disappearing for safety. We abandoned Crosshair. I abandoned Crosshair…" A crack in her voice made Hunter twitch. "No wonder he hates me now… I deserve this. But it hurts, Hunter… Like a wound that cannot ever heal. It will kill me… and his name will still be the last one on my lips."

"Miria, no." Hunter put an arm around her. "We need you."

"What about what Crosshair needed?" She was trembling under his hand.

"What would you have done differently? Storm Kamino and steal him while he was hostile and armed? Sneak in and chloroform him?" He was so patiently logical sometimes. It usually helped, but today it grated on her.

"We did it for Echo. And Gregor. Didn't he deserve our loyalty, after all we'd been through?" She whispered. "I thought… I was doing what I should. What was expected of me. I've always done what was expected of me… except for with him. And when he needed me to show that spine, to save him like he saved me, I failed him."

Hunter didn’t know what he was supposed to tell her, as she slowly lifted her head and cleared her throat. There was a stormcloud brewing in her eyes that he barely recognized as the mild and kind Jedi he’d known for years. All he could do was gently hug her as she took her time to put herself back together. He couldn’t help but think of the quiet strength it took; the same strength she’d used to defy Vader when he’d threatened to destroy her once.

Now he understood what she meant when she’d told the Sith he couldn’t break a broken woman.

Miria wiped her face on her sleeves and took a sobering breath. “There’s nothing left to do but fight, I suppose.” She finally cleared her throat. “And pray to the Force that there’s still some hope that it’s not all lost.” She tried to think of the little vision in the Force, telling her she was a Mandalorian’s riduur and she couldn’t give up. There was hope somewhere on the horizon, past the pain and hopelessness of the last time she’d seen her sniper with his back to her.

Hunter nodded. “Yeah. We just keep fighting and it’ll be okay… we’ll figure out a way to bring him back, one way or the other.” He didn’t say what he thought, that he wasn’t as certain as she seemed to be that Crosshair’s chip was still in place. She was coming apart, held at the broken edges by nothing more than her surety that it was only the chip holding Crosshair to the Empire. Hunter was more convinced it was spite.

“Hunter, do you remember the promise I asked of you, before Pantora?” She leaned over her elbows on her knees, eyes downcast.

“I intend to keep that, Miri. If he comes back, he belongs.” Hunter promised her.

“I have one more favor to ask of you.” She didn’t look up.

“Anything.” He let her go, shifting to face her more. Miria didn’t ask for much, so the least he could do was pay attention.

Miria finally brought her eyes to him, a sort of tired acceptance in them. “I know it isn’t your burden to bear, but… if it happens. If I get to the point where… I can’t go on, and we both know it’s the end… Please take me to Naboo. If I can’t die in Crosshair’s arms, then I’d like to end it there and be buried near my parent’s farm.”

Hunter swallowed hard at the stauch reality that he might be planning his best friend’s funeral. “I promise…”

“Thank you.” Her tired shoulders relaxed, closing her eyes as the tension that held her upright went out of her spine. “I’m sorry about worrying you. I’m doing my best…”

“I know. No one’s upset with you, we just worry. We love you.”

Miria smiled sadly. “I love you all… I just… miss him.”

“Get some sleep.” He helped her up and handed her back her cup. “You haven’t been getting enough. Everyone will be out at the bar for a while, you’ll have some peace and quiet.”

Miria nodded and shuffled up the ramp again, that faraway look returning to her eyes as she disappeared. Hunter could almost hear what voice was running through her head, and what it was saying.

“You weren’t loyal to me.”

The beach felt so peaceful, so exotic and comfortable. It was the exact kind of place Miria could imagine herself, comfortable on the sand with a cocktail while she watched Omega and Wrecker build sand castles and the other guys swim or collect shells. It might even have made a perfect honeymoon spot for her much-dreamed of wedding that didn't seem to be coming.

Instead, she was running in full armor, pursued by crab.

"We went over the plan 5 times!" Echo groaned.

"I got the package, didn't I?" Wrecker laughed.

"And now we're running for our lives. Again." His little General grumbled, firing her rifle over her shoulder. "Plasma isn't touching these things!"

"It's too dangerous to try to use your saber, Miri." Hunter huffed as her fingers started to inch towards her hip. "Tech, we need a pickup."

"Copy that. We're on our way." Their faithful genius was on the comms, sounding somewhat amused. He'd stayed behind with the ship to continue Omega's education, though Miria did wonder what kind of skewed learning they were providing the little girl when all her teaching came from soldiers and a battered Jedi. Still, the upturned note in Tech's voice told them those two were having a pleasant time.

"Make it quick. We're outnumbered." Hunter sighed.

"They sound like they're having fun." Miria hooked her gun on her back despite his best advice and drew her saber.

"Miri-"

She ignored his concern and turned on her heel, wielding the saber more like a club. She missed the days when saber combat was an art, when she could feel her hands and wasn't so dog-tired all the time. Even frequent comms to her family on Naboo, the luxury the guys so lovingly tried to grant her for peace of mind, only did so much. She hacked off a crab claw before running back to the retreating clones.

"You've gotta quit ignoring me, or I'm gonna start leaving you on the ship." Hunter grumbled.

"I'm afraid I'd hardly listen to that either."

"You spend too much time talking with your aunt. Her Mandalorian attitude is starting to rub off on you."

"Aren't you Mandalorian?" She backed up, back to his as another group of crabs cut off their way forward.

"Tech, where's that pickup?" Hunter hissed, deciding he was not arguing with a five-foot stack of sass and trauma.

"Coming in now." The Havoc Marauder came into view, with a concerning new addition hanging from the tow line.

"Is that Omega?" Miria blinked.

"Why is Omega hanging off the ship?!" Hunter groaned.

"It was an unexpected study break."

Miria shook her head tiredly and hopped into the crate Wrecker was carrying, extending her hand for the line. She awkwardly closed her fingers around it and passed it down to the big clone to secure the crate, knowing he could make it more secure than she could. Once the carabiner was clipped into position, the four of them piled together on it to be hauled aboard.

"Nice work Omega, but try to stay in the ship next time." Hunter ruffled the girl's hair as they got secure and out of the planet's atmosphere.

Miria sat down next to Echo as they hit hyperspace, rubbing her chest unhappily. She felt sick… overstretched and flimsy. It had been months since Kamino, months that showed in new inches to Omega's height and new paint on reconfigured armor. Echo had had to reweld his to account for putting on muscle, finally, since Skako. The others had repainted theirs in new shades of gold and orange.

Miria had privately cried over covering the red paint on her own. It didn't feel like Bad Batch armor anymore… it didn't feel like she could look around a corner in the ship and find Crosshair sitting there.

"How are your hands, General?" Echo looked over as she pulled a pair of wristlets off to check the skin.

Echo and Tech had come up with a set of external prosthetics for her that looked like a complicated array of connected rings hooked together and secured by bracelets. They responded to wrist movements, and while her burnt nerves didn't seem to be recovering no matter what herbs her uncle suggested she soak them in, she could at least not fumble every single thing she picked up. She couldn't wear her ring with them, though, so it went on a chain around her neck. "No damage. Not that it would matter."

"An infection would matter." Echo patted her knee.

Miria nodded, looking up. "I know. Sorry, dear… it's been a rough couple of months."

"You're gonna be okay. We're still looking for a cure between missions."

Miria nodded again, but couldn't look him in the eyes. Yes, the guys were trying so hard to save her life… and it wasn't that she was ungrateful, but she was having a harder and harder time finding it to be a life worth saving. Her only goal was a sad one, to find enough credits to let them disappear for good. To let her family here build real lives for themselves somewhere safe, and then throw her body between their escape and the Empire. Maybe she'd take a couple of those rotten Imperial bastards with her in the light of her demise. Maybe it would be enough to wake Crosshair up, and her beloved sniper could come home… even without her, he'd have a place. Hunter had promised.

Miria didn't really want to die, but she didn't want to live like this anymore either.

Echo nudged her like he felt the weight on her shoulders. "I'm gonna go check and make sure the crabs didn't damage the ship."

"Alright, dear. I'm not going anywhere." She nodded, and he headed off to the bridge.

Omega popped up at her elbow as Miria rubbed her hands against her thighs. "I used some of the acrobatics you taught me on this mission." She grinned.

Miria smiled. "I'm guessing that hanging off the ship wasn't your only feat while we were out?"

"No. I got pulled down and ended up jumping to the beach to shoot them with my bow."

"Strong girl. You're turning into the best of us, just like I said." Miria reached up, cupping the little girl's cheek gently. She missed the feeling of warm skin like a voyager missed home. "I'm so very proud of you. Hunter is too."

Omega smiled, nuzzling into her palm. "Can we go over sparring forms today?"

"After we get back to Ord Mantell."

"Okay." Omega grinned and gave Miria a quick hug before heading to her room in the gunner's nest.

Miria headed for her bunk, eyes downcast, and shut the door behind her before breaking into a coughing fit. The telltale blood in her palm was easy enough to clean away with a bacta wipe, but it wasn't a good sign. I have to hurry. I have to find them a home… a real one.

She touched her private comm lightly, pulling up a frequency she'd taken to calling often. "Aram."

"Hey Miri." Her cousin's cheerful face appeared. "You okay?"

"Exhausted, I'm afraid. We just finished up a mission."

"You gonna be coming back for weapons soon?"

"I don't know. But… could I ask some advice?"

"Sure. What's up?"

Miria hesitated. "... I've never planned a will before. Aunt Irene said you were studying law before the war ended… you wanted to be a politician, yes?"

"Yeah…" He looked at her suspiciously. "Is there a problem, Miri?"

She lowered her voice. "I'm getting sicker, Aram… I fear I don't have much time. And… before, in the Temple, the Order would have handled my affairs. I don't have much, but there are a few things that must be settled…"

Aram sat back in the chair he was in, hair spilling out everywhere. "Okay. Go on."

Miria glanced at the door. "Mother mentioned an inheritance set aside for me, in the event I ever returned from the Jedi like Uncle did. Could you tell me what it entails?"

Aram nodded, tapping on his datapad for a minute. "20,000 credits, half of the perfume business split with me which is worth about half a million, and half the family farm. Also split with me. We're the only grandkids."

Miria chewed her lip. "... if I chose to… liquidate those assets, would it be feasible? I wouldn't want to put the family into a poor position."

"We could sell your half of the business to another partner, probably. Dunno how Ba'vodu Anna would feel about it, but it's doable. My father would probably kill me if I suggested selling half the farm, though. Why?"

His cousin looked so tired through his screen, she shook her head. "That isn't necessary. That is family land… if it's okay with my parents and yours, I'd like to keep it within the family. So in the event of my death… any money should go to the Batch. And they could come to the farm, and live in peace."

"Why don't you all just come now? You don't have to die for them to have a place here." Aram pointed out.

"I wish that were true." Miria shook her head sadly. "But… it's too dangerous for you, to have a Jedi in your midst. The Empire believes the clones are dead. I am… slightly more recognizable. And a strong enough Force-sensitive could pick up my signature if I remain there too long, with my ability to shield myself becoming compromised. I've tried to send the Batch to the farm before, but they're good men. They won't leave me, even when they should. I'm afraid the only time I'll be able to stay on Naboo is when I'm buried, as much as I wish it were different."

"You'd stay if that clone of yours was here." Aram said sourly.

He was right, of course. She'd stay anywhere that Crosshair was, except in the Empire. The one place she couldn't follow him, and the one place he chose to be. "That's not fair, Aram…" She whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "If he were there… I would have different priorities. I wouldn't be so concerned with striking back against the Empire, because… I would have a chance to build something else. Our own legacy."

"A baby." Aram wrinkled his nose. "You really wanna still have a kid with the guy who ditched you on Kamino?"

"I want nothing more." Miria, for a moment, looked like the hopeful young Jedi she must have been before the collapse of the Republic. The woman she'd described when she'd told him she'd planned to leave the Order and arrive on Naboo with a sniper’s trigger hand in her own, damn the illness that had consumed so much of her life because it wasn't taking this away too.

Aram couldn't find it in him to blame her for the dream. He was contrary enough to want what he was told he couldn't have too. "Just don't die, okay? But I'll set this up for you as insurance."

Miria nodded, rubbing her face. "Thank you… Hunter promised to take me to Naboo… at the end. To be buried on the farm." She finally murmured. "I hate to be putting this all on you both, but you're my most trusted people. And you can give the guys what I won't be able to."

"What's that?"

"Time."

The Batch brought their cargo into Cid's office, surprised to find her with another client. A pretty, dark skinned woman was kicked back with her boots on the desk. "So this is that top squad you were talking about?" She grinned, sizing them up before standing. "The rogue clones and Jedi survivor."

The squad removed their helmets, moving immediately to surround Miria. "You told her?" Hunter hissed.

Cid smirked. "Easy, Dark and Broody. Phee is a friend, you can trust her with secrets."

The woman leaned in, examining the men, Omega, and Miria. "I thought all clones were supposed to look the same. This one's too big, that one's too little, and he's got a face tattoo."

"We are genetic mutations." Tech couldn't resist a good info dump.

Phee leaned back on her hip, grinning. "You come here often, Brown Eyes?"

Tech blinked. "It is my current employment, and the phenotypical color is clone eyes is brown. Our iris color was not-"

Phee shook her head and cut him off. "Let's just get that package moved, fascinating as this is. C'mon, big guy."

Wrecker picked up the crate for her and followed her out, Tech trailing behind with a doe-eyed confusion. Miria crossed her arms over her chest. "He has no idea she was flirting with him, does he?"

"Not a damn clue." Hunter tried not to snicker.

Phee looked over her shoulder. "Hey Cid, don't forget that intel isn't free. You get anything in that haul, I want a cut."

Miria watched her walk out, a prickle coming across her neck. "Haul, Cid?"

"Your next mission, and it's a big one. This would pay more than every mission you've pulled for me so far." The trandoshan grinned.

Echo leaned over his General's shoulder as Cid pulled up a holo. "Where?"

"Serenno."

Miria's stomach hit her boots. "What in the Force could be on Count Dooku's homeworld?"

Omega tugged at her kama gently. "Who's Count Dooku?"

Miria gritted her teeth. "He was a former Jedi… he left the Order, became a Sith, and started the Separatist Confederacy."

"What's a Sith?" Omega frowned.

"An evil version of the Jedi." Miria sighed. She hadn't forgotten that chilling mission, so long ago it seemed, where she'd done the unimaginable and sat down for tea with a Sith. Or how he'd rattled her down to the bone with his questions, his insistence that the Order was the real enemy.

The Order wasn't perfect, but they didn't deserve this. To be slaughtered, their friends enslaved, and their memories dragged through the muck.

"To answer your question, Stripes, it's Dooku's war chest."

Miria blinked, eyes widening. "War chest?"

"Collected treasures from all the worlds he controlled. The payout would be huge for even just a fraction of what he had. The Empire has been taking it, but there's still plenty of it for you guys to get to." Cid nodded.

Hunter stiffened. Miria bit her lip. That kind of money could save them. But the Empire…

Hunter shook his head. "We've stayed off the Empire’s radar since Kamino. It's too risky."

"Look at the opportunity, Dark and Broody. You guys could disappear with that kind of haul. You could buy your freedom, and have a future."

"We're already free." The sergeant frowned.

"If that's what you think, you're not paying attention to what's happening out there. It won't be long before the Empire comes here, and my operation goes under. Then there's nothing left for you. This could set you up. No more living hand to mouth." Cid was surprisingly compassionate as she laid it out, glancing at Omega. She really did care about them, as hard as she'd tried to keep it strictly business.

"It's too risky." Hunter repeated, nodding for Echo and Omega to follow him out. Miria hesitated, looking after his back and then at Cid.

"Talk some sense into him, Stripes."

Miria sighed. "I will… see what I can do." She turned and hurried out.

Hunter settled at the bar with Omega, showing her a couple ship blueprints to quiz her on. Miria sat beside him. "Hunter."

"Don't try to talk me into this, Miri. It's too dangerous." He said firmly.

Miria sighed, fiddling with her hand braces. "I'm just trying to think of what's best for you all."

"Getting found by the Empire isn't what's best." He turned to look at Omega, who'd already scampered off to join an impromptu squad huddle over by the dejarik table. "She deserves a better life."

"I agree with you there." Miria nodded. "If you won't take the mission, then please, take them to the farm. I'll be fine here." She softened her voice. "Please, Hunter. If Cid is right and the Empire does come here-"

"We're not leaving you. Especially not if they're coming here." Hunter put a hand over her shoulder. "I know you mean well. But we don't leave our own behind and you know that."

Miria's eyes fell to the side. In her mind, she could still see perfectly the lone figure standing on a Kaminoan platform months ago, back to her as she watched him get smaller and further away. She still heard his voice, lingering long after her bruises from that day had faded. "You weren't loyal to me."

Before Hunter could address the gaping hole in her heart, he overheard Cid mutter "Now you've just gotta convince Dark and Broody."

He groaned. "Convince me of what?"

Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck as the sergeant and General joined the huddle. "We took a vote… we wanna go after the war chest."

Hunter rubbed his face. "You do understand why this is insane, right?"

"If accomplished, it would be significant." Tech poked a finger into the air. "But… I do believe the general should have the final say. The Empire is most dangerous to her, personally."

Every eye turned to Miria, who rubbed her hands together with a clicking sound. "...I think, if the team is willing, I can't argue." She finally whispered. "I know it's dangerous, Hunter… but if we pull it off, then Cid's right. It's… you'd be safe. I can't give you safety otherwise."

Omega ran to hug her, and Echo nodded thoughtfully. Hunter just groaned again. "Fine."

Miria sat with Omega in her room, brushing the girl's hair for her gently. "You're growing so tall, little love. It won't be long before you're taller than me."

"You're just short, Miri." Her favorite tiny blonde teased.

"Size matters not." The Jedi started to laugh, then caught herself choking on a sob she hadn't realized was coming from her lips.

"Hey… are you okay?" Omega turned around when the brush hit the floor, finding her much-beloved big sister with a hand clamped over her mouth. "Miri?"

"S-sorry, sweetheart… I caught myself off guard." Miria swallowed hard. "That's just… something the grandmaster used to say. Most of the time, I don't let it bother me so much…"

It was mostly true. Most of the time, she could pick herself up when something reminded her of the loss. Everything did, after all. The galaxy as she saw it was forever colored by her life in the Order, no matter how she'd intended to leave. Lately, her defense felt a little too thin. At the end of my life, I have nothing but regrets. Too many to count. That I couldn't help Anakin, that I didn't tell Obi-wan about the Tuskan village, that I didn't stay in the creche to protect the younglings. If Crosshair was going to abandon me anyway-

Oh. This wasn't sorrow, she realized as Omega crawled into her lap. It was bitterness. She pushed the feeling down to cradle the one child she still had left to love. "I'm sorry, Omega."

"It's okay." The blonde head lay on her chest, seeking love as much as she gave it. "It's okay to be upset about things, you know."

"Wise padawan mine." Miria kissed her hair, and settled into the silence between them. She was just starting to wonder if she should suggest Omega nap when she heard Echo’s voice.

"I know why you agreed on this mission, Hunter. But it's not enough."

She and Omega looked at each other curiously before leaning in to listen.

Hunter sighed. "What do you mean?"

"We should be doing more. If we take a big haul from this, we should be using it against the Empire. Look at Miri, what she's been like since Kamino. She's got nothing to fight for without Crosshair, and it shows. We can give that back to her. That money could buy help and weapons."

"That's no kind of life for the kid, Echo."

"Omega is the reason this is our life."

In Miria's arms, Omega went stiff. Miria hugged her closer as she heard Hunter pulling Echo further from the gunner's nest, continuing their conversation where it wouldn't be overheard.

"... it's my fault?" Omega whispered.

"No, sweetheart." Miria shook her head immediately. "You may have been the catalyst for how it came together, but you didn't cause any of this. Your brothers love you."

Omega didn't look like she believed her, but snuggled back into the Jedi’s arms. Miria rubbed her back soothingly, closing her eyes.

No, little love. It's not your fault. It's mine.

Serenno didn't look like she remembered it. The city surrounding Dooku castle was shrapnel and debris, Imperial ships pulled right to the stronghold and loading up crates. "What happened here?" Omega whispered.

"Orbital bombardment, just like Kamino." Echo muttered.

"Three ships containing the contents of the war chest have been loaded. One has already left the planet, so our window of opportunity is closing." Tech looked at Hunter.

"Get what you can. I'll go down as ground support. If you get into trouble, I'll cause a diversion."

Miria nodded. "I'm with Hunter. I'm not much use for heavy lifting."

They slid down the ridge as the rest of the team headed for the large cargo ship. Hunter and Miria might have had very different ideas about the future, but there was one thing they could always agree on. How to approach.

Three years of seamless teamwork had them carefully creeping through brush to the hangar lot. Back to a retaining wall, he passed her a thermal and gave a series of hand signals.

You break left. I'll break right. Plant and come back here.

Miria nodded, turning as he did and taking off for an unattended escort shuttle. She affixed her detonator to the underside carefully and armed it, poking her head cautiously around to check for patrols before heading back to the retaining wall. It didn't take long for Hunter to join her. "You good?" He whispered.

"Yes." She nodded. "Just anxious to get out of here as soon as possible."

"I thought you were all for this mission."

"I'm invested in the after. The actual mission is nerve wracking at best." She shrugged.

"You and I need to talk when this is over. Echo mentioned something I'm concerned about."

"I heard very well what Echo said. And so did Omega." Miria gave him a hard look he felt more than saw before touching her comm. "Tech, report?"

"We have reached the cargo ship. We encountered a small roving patrol and disabled one trooper."

"They're going to notice when he doesn't check in. Hurry, dear."

Hunter sighed as they retreated back to the treeline to wait for a signal. "Echo didn't mean the way it came out, Miri. He wasn't blaming Omega for anything."

"What did he mean, then?" She crouched, catching her breath and cursing her failing body.

"He thinks we should be doing more. Fighting back directly against the Empire."

Miria looked out at the troops, circling the landing zone as ships were filled with stolen treasures that once belonged to a madman. "And you don't."

"It's not the life Omega deserves." Hunter sighed. "We have to be better, for her."

Miria nodded. "I understand your perspective, dear."

Hunter's heart sank. "You don't agree."

"It's… complex." She looked at her braced hands on her knees. "No, Omega doesn't deserve to be caught up in what's coming. But so many people will be, deserved or not… and the Empire won't go away until someone destroys it. That much, I'm sure of."

"So Echo was right. You do want to fight."

"What I want doesn't matter any longer, Hunter. What I want left me on a landing platform on Kamino. My only consolation is that it seems he didn't tell the Empire we survived, or they'd still be hunting us. Vader would never willingly let a member of the Council live. And Rampart was far too interested in the squad serving the Empire to leave you be."

Hunter crouched beside her. "Miri. Echo said he was worried you were giving up. That if we weren't fighting back, you'd start looking for a way to sacrifice yourself. Tell me if it's true."

Inside her helmet, Miria grimaced. Oh, sweet and grumpy Echo knew her too well. It surprised her a little, with him being the last on the squad… but it was endearing to feel so seen. Even if it threw a wrench into her entire half baked plan.

"We're running out of time, we need that diversion!" Echo’s voice in the comm broke her out of her thoughts.

"Get out of there. We'll get their attention." Hunter muttered back before offering Miria a hand. "We'll talk about it later."

Miria nodded and let him haul her up, pulling a detonator stick from her pocket. She and Hunter both pressed their buttons, and the ships they'd rigged below went exploding into smithereens. "Get out of there, boys. That should distract them."

They waited anxiously for the rest of the squad, until Wrecker’s footsteps sounded behind them. "Where are the others?" Hunter hissed.

"They're still in the cargo ship."

Miria gritted her teeth and hit her comm. "Tech?"

"We've been locked in. Echo cannot get the door open, it is external only. And we've are taking off."

Miria glanced up. "... shit."

"I still believe profanity sounds strange in your accent, Miri."

"Come on, we've got to catch that ship." Miria drew her rifle off her back. "They already know we're here."

"Now you're talking!" Wrecker grinned, and they opened fire as they booked it for the cargo ship.

Hunter made it first, catching the outboard ladder with Wrecker right behind him. Miria took a Force-assisted leap behind them, the three of them dodging plasma shots between rungs. Above her, Hunter was knocked loose and Miria had a sudden, agonizing flashback to Daro before catching his hand. He dangled a moment before grabbing a rung below her and sparing her shoulder from dislocation. "We're not going to make it like this!"

She glanced down at Dooku's castle, the upper ramparts only a few meters below. "Wrecker, jump!"

"What?!"

"Jump!" She she Hunter let go, the scared-of-heights muscle joining them with a series of curses. Miria tucked into a roll and popped up, breathing heavily. "Tech, are you three alright?"

"Considering the circumstances, yes."

"Can you get into the main ship and commandeer a life pod? We can pick you up from the Marauder, but we weren't able to get into the cargo ship ourselves."

"That would be the most logical course of action."

"You know what to do then. Take care of each other." She looked at Hunter and Wrecker. "I did hope I'd never have to come back into this dreadful castle, but… let's go."

They nodded, taking off inside. They'd have to trust the others to find their way to safety while they got the ship.

"Every Jedi is a family who decided they could live without them. The Order convinces them they must give their children away, and then they send them to die on fools errands for a Republic who doesn't even permit them voting rights. Does that seem fair to you? I remember you, Miria Halcyon. I know what happened to you on Illum. What would your mother think if she'd known the Jedi would send her daughter to an early grave?"

"It was my fault, on Illum. I was careless…"

"You've been so blinded by your belief in the Order that you've let them convince you that the fault lies in a little girl looking for a kyber crystal, not the adults meant to be watching over her."

"But the Jedi serve the light…."

"They're meant to. Perhaps some do. But the Order itself is lost. This war will teach that, regrettable as it is. But you…."

Miria shuddered in the face of memory, moving slowly through the castle as she and her men tried to find their way out.

"Don't you remember the way, Miri? You were in here once." Wrecker mumbled uneasily.

"It's… been a while, dear." Miria whispered back. She may have forgotten the twists and turns of the hallways, but Miria would never forget how this place made her feel. Lost, confused… questioning her very identity. An unwavering Jedi dedicated to the principals of the Order, if not their every practice, had come in here once. A terrified and unsettled woman had run out as fast as her legs could carry her, into Crosshair’s arms.

He wouldn't be there to comfort her this time.

"Imperials, ten o'clock." Hunter snapped, firing over her shoulder. Miria spun around to shoot as well, and recognized a painting on the wall.

"The study's this way." She grabbed Wrecker’s belt, pulling him after her and breaking left before they ducked into the triangular door. "Bloody triangles. Just lIke the Imperial ships. Why is evil always triangles?"

Wrecker laughed. "You're gonna have to ask Tech that one."

She scanned the room, holding her chest and trying to bite back a coughing fit. The last thing they needed was Hunter going dad-mode on her like he did Omega. "... there's a console. Over there, by the window."

They quickly ducked over the desk as Imperial troopers started pouring in. Under their boots, Hunter's sharp ears made out a hollow noise. "There's a lift under here."

Miria rested her rifle on the console top. "We'll cover you. Get it open."

He typed furiously at the cracked screen, cursing under his breath. "Can't you go any faster?" Wrecker grumbled.

"Gimme a minute. Tech usually does this- shit. It's jammed!"

"Not for long. Swap places with me." Wrecker’s voice betrayed a smirk.

"Wait, Wrecker. What are you-?" Miria started, watching in horror as the big clone jumped and slammed his full weight into the lift top. It wobbled under them. "Don't-"

He jumped again, and the lift gave way. She, Hunter, and Wrecker went tumbling down the lift shaft with a cacophony of screams and reckless laughter. As it always did when Miria was pretty sure she was about to die, her mind wandered to Crosshair. This time, it was when she'd last left this planet. She'd felt so lost, but he'd been there to hold her and reassure her that even if she wasn't a Jedi and couldn't be a Sith… that she was his.

"I've got you."

"And you'll always have me?"

"If I ever say no to that, I've lost my fucking mind."

The crash of the lift was deafening, so unlike the soft pulse of a lover’s heartbeat punctuating a promise. Miria landed hard on her side, a rib screaming it's displeasure at her. By some miracle, they weren't dead.

"C'mon, they'll follow us down here soon." Hunter's hands were urging her up too soon, but she got her feet under her. "We'll use the city ruins as cover to get to the ship."

She nodded, dazed, as he pulled out a rappelling hook. Wrecker groaned unhappily. "It's okay, dear… we're nearly through…"

"I hope whatever we're getting from this war chest is worth it." He grumbled.

"Me too, dear. Me too."

As they worked their way down, she tried to keep her head level. "Tech, Echo, Omega? Are you alright?"

"They jettisoned the escape pods, but this ship model is equipped with re-entry thrusters in the shipping containers. We're taking one down." Omega chirped.

"We have no control on landing, so I will transmit our coordinates once we are secure." Tech clarified. "But it was Omega who remembered the re-entry thrusters, so my education plan seems to be going well."

Miria smiled. "Good work, Omega. Be careful, and stay safe."

She and her team landed on the ground securely and disconnected the line from their belts, taking off into the city ruins.

"How you holding up, Miri?" Wrecker frowned as she lost her fight and started coughing.

"I'll be -hack- alright." She muttered. "Bad landing, that's -hack- all."

Hunter didn't like that at all, but he couldn't do much about it right now. "Stay low. They'll be sending aerial sweeps."

They tucked themselves into the shadows of the broken out buildings, heading for the ship. Miria tried not to pay too much attention to the everyday items strewn in the rubble… pots and pans, a child's broken toy, a laundry line…

People had lived here. Serennian people, just trying to live their lives. They hadn't all been Separatist. They hadn't all been culpable for the destruction.

There's so much senseless death… I have to do something. A Jedi should help, somehow.

Her hands were so small and weak, but… they were her own to fight with, if she could.

#crosshair smut #eventual smut #the bad batch #chronic illness #explict #crosshair #clone force 99 #original character #caught in the crosshairs

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