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hellcat8908 · 2 months

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I Need You Rhysand x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Thought/Imagining suicide, mental health, comfort

Rhys was away with Cassian and Azriel checking up on some of the more troublesome camps in the mountains. You were invited along, but you chose to stay home. The last few months of hiding your declining mental health were catching up with you. You wanted a break away from everyone, and this seemed like the opportunity you'd been waiting for. They had been gone for four days and had planned for at least another five before returning home. The first two days were perfect, you took those two days to pamper yourself with some self care. On day three, you started feeling guilty about not going with them and enjoying the luxury that being Rhys's mate provided while he slept in tents with his friends.

What started off as simple guilt quickly had you spiraling into a depressive state as all the feelings and thoughts you had repressed came flooding back. Your mind turned against you as you remembered your shortcomings in recent missions. You made sure to shield the bond so Rhys wouldn't know. You didn't want to be anymore of a burden to him than you already felt you were. You hardly slept the third night as your mind raced. The fourth day, you hadn't gotten out of bed until almost evening. You managed to force yourself to eat some cut-up fruit and yogurt while drinking some water.

You stood at the sink and started washing the dishes. Not wanting to leave a mess and have Rhys think you're ungrateful for everything he's done for you. You wash your plate and your cup before rinsing them and putting them in the drying rack. You wash the large cutting board next, accidently splashing water on the floor when you rinse it. You grab a towel and dry it up before it can cause any damage. You turn your attention back to the dishes. You pick up the paring knife and start washing it, feeling how sharp the blade is. You instantly imagine how easily it could cut you. The blood dripping from your veins, staining the water and porcelain sink.

You think how easy it would be to end it all right now. Thinking how much better off everyone would be without you. How Rhys deserves a stronger mate who wouldn't crumble under the pressure like you have. You examine the blade of the knife closely as if it calls your name. In an instant, you blink and drop it like it's scalding hot in your hand. Tears fill your eyes as you reach out to Rhys in a panic, "I need you!" You sink to the floor in a mess of emotions, hoping he's coming home.

Rhys had just gotten back to the tent with Cassian and Azriel. They had started discussing new training they wanted to implement. Cassian was in the middle of explaining his idea when Rhys's expression changed. He'd never seen his brother look so worried, "What's wrong?" Azriel and Cassian instantly on alert. "We need to get back to Velaris now! Something is wrong with Y/n!" He declares after hearing you're frightened call to him. "I can't feel the bond!" He says before they winnow back home. As soon as he's home, he rushes into the house, not sure what danger to expect. "Be alert!" He commands his brothers as they follow behind him. The sound of you crying, guiding him to the kitchen.

As soon as you see Rhys, you launch yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest. He wraps his ams tightly around you. "What happened? Are you hurt? Let me look at you, darling, " he says, trying to check you for injuries, Cassian and Azriel search the house for any intruders or threats but find none. They wait patiently in the doorway to the kitchen. You try to tell Rhys what's wrong, but you can't stop crying long enough to get the words out. Azriel mentally tells Rhys the house is clear, Rhys nods in response, and dismisses them. He holds you close and gently tries to guide you through some breathing exercises to help calm you down.

You struggle to follow his directions as he tries to help you breathe. Your mind is pulling you in a hundred different directions, making it difficult to focus on anything. Rhys gently takes your hand and puts it to his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat. The simple rhythm helps ground you, allowing you to start focusing on breathing. "That's it. You're doing so well." He praises you as your breathing begins to even out. He continues to hold you as he feels you relaxing in his arms. Your face still buried in his chest, he looks around for any clues as to what happened. He notices the paring knife on the floor but doesn't see any blood. You try to talk but start crying again before the first word leaves your mouth. "It's okay, darling. Just rest for me. We'll worry about talking later." He says.

He gently carries you upstairs and helps you out of your clothes and into some pajamas. You move to your side of the bed before Rhys climbs in beside you. He pulls you against him, so he's holding you close. "Rhys, I'm so sorry I pulled you away from work." You apologize, feeling dumb for having called him home. "Don't ever apologize for that, darling. You're my top priority." He says softly before he proceeds with caution, "do you want to talk about it?" You answer his question with a question of your own, "Can we talk about it with the lights off?" He leans over and turns the bedside light off, "whatever makes you comfortable." He says as he settles back in beside you.

You take a couple of deep breaths before you start telling Rhys about your struggle with your mental health. He doesn't interrupt you or make any sort of sound. He lays there holding you as you tell him everything. A few times, you struggle not to cry, but Rhys just rubs your back and helps you through it, always being patient with you. "I thought after the first two days I was finally getting better, but then I started feeling guilty for enjoying the time to take care of myself while you were crammed in a tent with Cassian and Azriel. That triggered a whole new depressive state." You tell him, catching him up to what made you call him for help. You tell him the intrusive thought about the knife and brace yourself for his reaction.

Your eyes are squeezed shut in anticipation of the anger that you're sure is to come. Unsure if he'll be more mad about the thought or that you called him home for this. He feels your body tense as you await his reaction. You're surprised when you feel the warm velvet of his wings wrapping around you, providing you extra comfort and the feeling of safety. Rhys's arms wrap tighter around you as if he's afraid you'll slip away. "Thank you for being strong enough to reach out for help, darling. I know it wasn't easy given your reaction. I want you to know and remember that this doesn't change the way I see you. I want to discuss this further in the morning, though, because right now you need some rest." He says softly before pressing a sofy kiss to the top of your head.

"I don't know if I can sleep." You say quietly. Rhys gently strokes your hair, "Try to, darling. That's all I ask." He says gently. He guides your head to his chest as he rubs your back, trying to help you calm down enough to sleep. You snuggle in closer, and after awhile your able to fall asleep. It's not a deep sleep, but it's sleep none the less. His gentle caress on your back lasts all night while his steady breathing and his heartbeat become your personal lullaby. The velvet of his wings coupled with his body against yours make sure you're warm. You stretch awake, surprised to see Rhys awake. He gives you a warm smile when he notices your awake, "Good morning, darling."

You give him a smile that fails to reach your eyes, "Good morning, love." He shifts underneath you as he sits up against the headboard, "don't pretend with me, darling. You don't ever have to hide or fake your feelings from me. I want all of you, your light and your dark." He says. "Sorry, it's just hard sometimes." You reply. "I know, but I'm always here for you." He says. "Breakfast?" You ask when your stomach growls a little. "Wait here, and I'll bring it to you. " he says with a smile before getting out of bed. He returns a short while later with a tray of food. The smell has your stomach growling louder. He gives a soft laugh and is happy to see you have an appetite. He places the tray across your lap before returning to your side. Rhys rests beside you as you eat breakfast, sharing bites of it with him because he brought too much for you to eat.

Once the food is gone, he sits the tray aside, "I want to talk to you about last night." He says cautiously. You start fidgeting with the blanket as your nerves increase, "Okay." You say staring anywhere but at him. He gently pulls your eyes to his, "Before you get mad and start yelling, I think what I'm about to tell you is for the best, ok?'" He says, searching your eyes. "What is it?" You ask carefully, trying to keep your composure. "I want you to take time off from work, just until you're feeling better and we have a better understanding of your mental health. I also think it would be good for you to talk to someone." He says. Your heart sinks at his words.

"If I'm not working, that leaves the rest of you to pick up the slack from my absence. Rhys, you all have enough going on as it is, Cassian and Azriel barely have free time. I can't sit around doing nothing all day while everyone else is running themselves ragged." You respond, hating the idea of further burdening the others. "A compromise then, you continue light duty work, but you have to tell me if you need a break to take care of yourself." He says. You think to yourself for a moment before agreeing. "Remember there is nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty for about taking care of yourself." He says. "I know, but I can't help it somedays." You respond quietly. "We'll work on those together when they come, and no more shutting me out." He says before pulling you in for a kiss.

You return his kiss as you try wrapping your head around everything. You know the journey is going to be long and full of setbacks, but you honestly want to try, not just for your mate and friends but for yourself. For the first time in a while, you feel like this isn't an impossible feat. "I will see about talking to someone eventually," you say, continuing before he can interrupt but for now, I just want to talk to you, if that's okay with you." You say sheepishly. "Of course, darling, if that's what you're comfortable with." He says as he holds you closer. "It is." You reply as you cuddle into his side. "Whatever you need, darling. I'm here no matter what." He says lovingly.

#rhysand x reader #acotar #batboys #acotar fanfic #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhys x reader

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cinnamongorll · 4 months

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a fragile line - chapter 19

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Warning: detailed descriptions of physical abuse from a parent

Word count: 7.8k

wasn't going to post this today but I can't hold you all in anticipation for feral Joel any longer ;)

this is both my favourite and the most painful chapter yet...

Chapter 19: 'Strangers'

Joel’s POV:

The frigid night air did nothing to cool the fire raging beneath Joel’s skin.

The bartender, whose name Joel never asked, slipped them out the backdoor. The way his wide eyes darted around, as he pushed open the rusted metal door, told Joel that he was worried, terrified even. But the deep, permanent, crease between his eyebrows also told him that fear was an ever present emotion in the residents of this town.

Joel had neither the patience nor the pleasantries to thank the man, so he opted for a curt nod as his eyes shot to the black street that stretched before them. There were no streetlights to lessen the sense of oppressive darkness which surrounded the path Joel and Ethan began to walk. They kept their steps quick, careful to avoid watchful eyes who were used to peering through the dark.

The thick handle of Joel’s knife was enclosed within his hand, the blade pressed against his jeans. Hidden, but ready to slice anything that got in his way. Joel imagined pressing the sharp edge to Elijah’s throat, feeling the weight of the blade pushing in, and savouring the heat of his blood as it wet his hands. Joel’s lips twisted in the beginnings of a cruel snarl.

Ethan’s steps pounded behind him, struggling to keep up with Joel’s vicious stride. Joel adjusted his broad shoulders, attempting to shake off the suffocating feeling of Ethan’s presence.

They were headed to the armoury. Neither of them had any significant weapons on them, and Joel wasn’t risking stepping into a situation where he wasn’t properly prepared. Juliet’s life hung in the balance; Joel wouldn’t risk a thing. Especially when it was his fault that she was back here, his fault that she was locked in a house with her abuser, his fault that she hadn’t felt she could tell him…

Within the swirling mess of self-loathing, which continued to swell in his mind, lay a puzzle that Joel couldn’t figure out. Why allow Joel to go to the bar? Why allow him to be seen by the townspeople? Joel’s jaw tightened and the weight of his steps grew heavier as he contemplated Elijah’s decisions. Picking apart the mind of a madman was not something Joel enjoyed, but he was good at it. Because he understood strategy, he understood cruelty.

Joel skidded to a stop as they rounded on a corner, his head whipped side to side as he struggled to see through the aching darkness.

“This way,” a rough voice whispered. Ethan stepped around Joel and began walking down another empty street. Joel followed close behind, gritting his teeth.

As they closed in on the armoury, which was really just a run down barn on the edge of town, Joel sunk deeper into the mind of Juliet’s dad. The questions were overpowering and endless. Why hurt Juliet? Why lure her back here? Why not let her go?

Joel’s fingers curled into a tight fist. He felt the harsh bite of his knife begin to press into his calloused skin as realisation dawned over him.

Elijah wanted complete control over Juliet, he wanted to be her protector, her saviour.

Which meant that he had lost something. Elijah had suffered a loss in his past so great that his instincts of care and protection had twisted, becoming darker, more intense, more dangerous. Juliet wasn’t just his daughter, she was his second chance.

Protection and fear often bled into possession and control. There was a fragile line between care and ownership, love and dominance.

Joel’s heavy breaths faltered, stuttering, as his own past crept over his skin, crawling into his mind, bringing forth memories too painful to even visualise.

The sharp blade of his knife finally pierced his skin and Joel could breathe again. The air released from his tight lungs, as the sting on his hand eased the pressure in his mind.

Ethan turned to look over his shoulder, attempting to read the look on Joel’s face. But it was too dark, and Joel was too good at shielding his emotions. He just ground out a quick command: “Keep movin’” and Ethan quickened his steps as they raced across the damp grass.

Elijah was addicted to control. He had this whole town so brutally devoted to him that they were complacent in the torture of two young people. That was why he allowed Joel to go to the bar: surveillance. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And who better to watch over Joel than his keen eyed followers?

Joel uttered a quiet “fuck ” under his breath. Ethan didn’t turn around this time. Joel was glad, he wasn’t in control of himself, he might start swinging at the next person who looked him in the eye.

Bringing him to the armoury earlier, showing him his gifted weapons, his gifted vehicle, was all an elaborate trick. Elijah was playing with his food. There was no way he was letting Joel leave this town. He thought back to earlier when he stepped in front of Juliet, when he opposed Elijah’s sick claim over her, and offered Juliet a choice. Joel had watched the ire ripple under Elijah’s stone features. Joel had challenged him, Joel was a threat. And Elijah wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

He should have never stepped away from her. He shouldn’t have left her there when he felt something was wrong. Joel was haunted by many things in his life, but he knew that that decision would cling to him for a long time. Thick regret boiled within him but Joel didn’t try to push it down anymore, he didn’t try to displace it. Joel allowed his fear, his regret and his anger to inflame, to blister, to worsen.

Joel relished in the blood that pooled in his hand, he savoured the sharp sting that throbbed around the blade of his knife.

The pain fueled him.

Juliet needed him, and he wouldn’t let her down again.

………………………………………………..

“Wait out here,” Joel ordered. His voice low but commanding as he stretched his arm out in front of Ethan, blocking him from moving towards the doors to the armoury.

Ethan peered up at him, his eyes narrowing as he registered Joel’s demand. The crease between Joel’s eyes deepened as he watched the shock and resentment wash over the younger man’s sallow features. Ethan opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Joel just raised his hand with impatience, cutting him off.

“I don’t know what or who’s in there, I’m goin’ in alone,” he said, leaving no room for a debate as he began to turn towards the doors. But that didn’t stop Ethan from trying.

Ethan moved forward, grabbing hold of Joel’s sleeve before he could reach the handle. Joel’s head whipped towards him and his hands began to shake with the effort it took not to punch that entitled look off of his face.

“I got Juliet out of his town once, and I can do it again. Who even are you?” Ethan’s words rushed out in a single breath as his eyes darted around, making sure no one had spotted them. He was practically jumping on the spot with the energy that rippled through him.

“You’re gonna want to let go of me,” Joel ground out slowly, after a pause. He didn’t break eye contact with Ethan as his hand quickly unlatched from his tight grip on Joel’s sleeve.

Joel rolled his shoulders and ran a hand over his face. He was growing impatient, he had no idea what was happening to Juliet right now and Ethan was only prolonging her suffering with his whining.

“You stay behind me and you shut up, got it?” Joel hissed, his irritation rolling off of him in waves. Ethan just nodded, sharp and quick. Joel stared at him a moment longer before rolling his eyes and reaching for the door handle.

The inside of the armoury was quiet, there was no one else lurking in the old barn as far as Joel could tell. But he moved slowly through the building, heading straight for the shotguns on the back wall. Elijah and his people had built up one hell of a supply.

A few minutes later, Joel ran his hand over the weapon before swinging the strap of the shotgun over his shoulder. He released a weighted breath at the feeling of a gun in his hands again. Ethan stood beside him, his hand outstretched to grab a gun of his own. Joel looked down at him, his eyebrows raised.

“You know how to use one of these?” he asked, watching Ethan from the corner of his eye as he adjusted his own gun.

Ethan grabbed hold of a shotgun and shot Joel an incredulous look. “Of course I can use a fucking shotgun,” he replied.

If Juliet didn’t care for Ethan, he would have been a dead man from that comment alone. Joel’s lips twitched with restrained anger before turning around and searching for ammo. He heard Ethan release a quiet, relieved, breath.

Once they were stocked up on ammo, Joel and Ethan headed to the side of the barn where the trucks were kept. Juliet had promised him a car battery back in the QZ, but there was way more than just batteries available. There were three trucks lined in a row, each of them rusted and dusty as though they hadn’t been driven in a long time. But Joel guessed that they were well maintained, their batteries charged every now and then in case of emergencies. That’s what Joel would do if he were in charge of a town.

Joel had begun to creep around the first truck, ready to try to hotwire it if needed. He had to know there was a way out of this town, a vehicle ready for him to get Juliet away as quickly as possible. But before he could even reach the truck, he stilled. His muscles locked up as he froze in place.

“Ethan made it to the bar, tried to fight that guy who turned up with Juliet. Joel, I think his name was,” said a voice from outside the barn, his words were muffled but Joel heard them clear enough. So did Ethan, who shot Joel a terror filled look.

Joel reached out his hand, palm up, to still Ethan. His mind began to filter through a thousand possibilities of how they would get out of here alive and without alerting whoever roamed outside. They both stood like statues, Ethan’s eyes latched onto Joel, as another voice from outside raised loud enough for them to hear.

“Fuck, Elijah’s not gonna like this”

Then a third voice…

“Just hurry up and get the ammo, then we’ll go get them. They won’t have made it far.”

Joel jumped into gear, moving with pure instinct. There were three voices outside, that meant they were outnumbered. And they were coming inside, which meant his hopes of a quiet exit were gone.

They would have to fight.

Joel curled his hand towards Ethan, and pointed with a sharp look from his dark eyes towards the door. Ethan frowned but followed, their steps thankfully silent on the old wooden floor.

They positioned themselves on either side of the barn doors. Joel attempted to have a silent conversation with Ethan, but it was either too dark or Ethan wasn’t the brightest, because all Joel got in response was a confused tilt of his head.

Joel’s eyes shot to the ceiling, the pressure on his chest increasing as he heard the voices move closer. Joel lifted his free hand, making quick, focused gestures. Ethan eventually nodded, finally understanding Joel’s clear instructions.

Joel clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth, and waited for the men to open the doors.

Moments later, the handle turned, and Joel was ready. The first man came through the door, and immediately fell forward, crashing onto the dirty floor with a bullet in his head.

Shouts rang in Joel’s ears as the next two men came barging in, stepping over the body of their friend. Their jaws hung open and their eyes moved between Joel and Ethan, obviously unprepared and taken off guard. Joel was right about this town, it may have the weapons and supplies, but there were no fighters living here.

Before the men’s eyes swung back over to Joel, another body dropped to the floor. Joel’s gaze immediately darted to Ethan, who stood breathing heavily, winded by the force it took to fire a gun in his weak state.

Joel recognised the third man. He had ginger hair and a thick, bleeding gash across his forehead, covered in a small bit of gauze. Before Ethan could finish the job, Joel moved, grabbing the man from behind and bringing his shotgun around to press on his neck as the man was forced to push against Joel’s front, wriggling as the shotgun tightened and his air began to lessen.

Joel grunted as the man elbowed him in the ribs but he held steady. “Don’t shoot, we need him,” Joel barked towards Ethan, who had already pointed his gun towards the man in Joel’s arms.

Ethan, confused, began to move closer, stepping over the two bodies at his feet.

Before the man passed out from the crushing force of the shotgun pressed against his neck, Joel moved his mouth to his ear. “Where’s Juliet?” he hissed, still grunting in between breaths as the man continued to squirm against him.

Joel eased the force of the gun just a little to allow the man enough air to reply. “At her house, with Elijah,” the man croaked out as his boots began to kick back against Joel’s shins

Joel held steady, eyeing Ethan. Juliet was still at her house, meaning Elijah hadn’t moved her anywhere. They knew where to go. But Joel wasn’t done with his interrogation.

He tilted his mouth back to the man’s ear. “Who’s with ‘em?” Joel asked, his voice rough with pain as the man got another hit in.

When the man didn’t answer, Joel adjusted his grip on the shotgun, applying more pressure on the man’s throat until Joel began to feel his consciousness slip. Then he loosened it again.

Ethan had lowered his gun as he stared at Joel. His eyes were wide and his gaze kept darting away as though he struggled to watch the brutal scene in front of him. Joel noted this with deep frustration. Perhaps Ethan’s weakness was not only found in the current state of his battered and malnourished body.

“Daniel,” the man in his arms finally gasped out. “Daniel is with them.”

Joel’s lips pulled back to reveal the shape of a vicious snarl. Only one more idiot standing in the way of Joel wrapping his fist around Elijah’s neck.

Before Ethan could even open his mouth, Joel had let go of the shotgun and replaced his grip on the man’s neck with his arm. The muscles in his bicep flexed as Joel forced his arm in one quick movement until he heard the crunch of the man’s neck and felt his body go limp.

Joel stepped back and allowed the body to drop to the floor. He stood over it, breathing heavy while he adjusted the strap of his shotgun.

Ethan had jumped backwards when the man hit the floor, almost tripping over the other bodies. His boots were stained with their blood as it pooled around them.

Ethan lifted his heavy gaze to Joel’s face. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, his voice shaky.

“We know where she is, we know who she’s with. We can go get her now,” Joel said, in a monotone, matter of fact voice as he began to step over the still warm bodies.

Ethan made a sound almost like a growl and whipped his hand out towards Joel, the tips of his fingers almost touching the arm of his jacket before Joel grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall beside the doors.

The adrenaline was still pumping steadily through Joel’s bloodstream as let go of one of Ethan’s shoulders, slipped his knife out of his pocket, and brought it to Ethan’s face. “What did I tell you bout’ touchin’ me?” Joel seethed, pushing the tip of his blade against the soft skin of Ethan’s cheek.

Ethan swallowed rough, the action restrained as though he was frightened the knife would cut him. Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted.

“Don’t fucking question my methods,” Joel warned, in a voice so quiet it might have sounded gentle. But the look in Joel’s eyes made it very clear that his words were coated in a razor sharp edge. He pressed the knife in further, careful not to break skin. “If you can’t handle this then leave, cause I'm gettin’ Juliet outta here with or without you.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched, then he nodded sharp and quick.

Joel let go of him and walked out the doors before Ethan could even catch his breath.

…………………………………………………

Juliet’s POV:

There were exactly fourteen steps down to the basement.

Juliet counted every one, each time she followed her father into the dark room below their rickety house. It helped ground her, the counting.

She would count the steps, then she would count the seconds, the minutes, and the hours. And when the number grew high enough for her father to be satisfied with her punishment, Juliet would listen as he walked those fourteen steps back down to collect her.

It was strange how memory worked. It had been nearly four years since Juliet wandered into the suffocating darkness of the basement, nearly four years since she felt the cold chill in the air which coated her skin like an oily slick. Yet, she still remembered to count the steps.

She did it on instinct, her mind was entirely devoid of thought or emotion, all that drifted through her consciousness was the sound of her counting. One, two, three, four…

Juliet was too numb to think anyway, to feel anything other than the space around her. The entire time she had travelled with Joel, Juliet knew what her destination was. The basement flashed through her mind many times, usually waking her from a shallow sleep in the truck or causing her to thrash and kick in her sleeping bag as she lay beside Joel. He would reach out a hand, stilling the movement of her legs, calming her racing heart.

She was always grateful for his quiet strength and his rare soothing touch, but it only kept the monsters at bay for a short while. They were never really gone. Because every mile they travelled led them closer to Juliet’s real nightmare.

Five, six, seven…

Juliet wasn’t sure what awaited her at the bottom of the steps, how she would reach the ‘salvation’ her father spoke of. Through her numbness, a spark of pain shot through her heart when she imagined Ethan facing the same fate. The thought of him hating her hurt more, though. Ethan was the only good thing in her life for so long, to lose that …

Eight, nine, ten, eleven…

Her mind picked up again and brought forth the anxiety and fear that shook her to the bone. Joel would never forgive her. She had brought him here on stupid, naive, false hope. Juliet had been content with returning home and fading into nothing but a memory in Joel’s mind, and a sad smile on Ethan’s lips. But with Ethan turned against her, turned into something vicious, something like her father, and Joel trapped here… Juliet began to feel that her sacrifice was in vain. The only person gaining anything was her father. It was always her father who won their games, Juliet had been stupid to think otherwise.

Twelve, thirteen …

Her legs shook with each step, the world around her travelled in slow motion. Bile rose in her throat and she fought to keep her arms by her side.

For most people, the world ended around twenty years ago. But for Juliet, her world ended with the last step down those basement stairs.

Fourteen.

…………………………………

“You know, Ethan sat in a chair just like this.”

Juliet blinked, her father’s words slicing through the fog that filled her head, clouding her thoughts and numbing her emotions. She looked down, reminding herself where she was. Juliet blinked again, slower this time, when she remembered the thick, coarse rope which wrapped around her wrists and ankles, tying her to the metal chair she sat on.

Eventually, her head tilted back up to meet her father’s icy gaze. His lips twitched into a satisfied smile when she didn’t respond. It appeared that Elijah had counted on her speechlessness.

He lowered his eyes to the restraints on her wrists, then turned and walked towards a fireplace on the back wall of the room, directly in front of Juliet. This was new, there had never been a source of light in the basement before.

“They’re for your safety. Don’t want you running off again. It’s not safe for you out there,” her father explained, his back turned to Juliet as he picked up a poker and prodded the burning logs.

“I managed just fine on my own,” Juliet murmured without a thought. The words just slipped out. Her head shot up and her teeth clamped down on her tongue when she realised what she said.

Her father’s movements stilled, the poker now hovering over the fire.

Then Juliet heard his quiet chuckle, getting louder with every second until she watched her father’s shoulders shake. Juliet squirmed in her seat, her heart had begun to pound against her chest.

Without warning, the laughter ceased. The only sound that remained was the crackling of the fire and the quiet breaths that slipped past Juliet’s clenched jaw. She followed her father’s movements as he dropped the poker back into its stand and picked up the bible resting on the wooden top of the fireplace, then turned towards her.

When he met her eyes, his face was devoid of all emotion.

“Let’s begin,” he said and cracked open the first page.

…………………………………………………….

Juliet’s head swung to the side with the force of the slap.

This time, it wasn’t by her father’s hand, but rather the book he held. Pain blossomed across her jaw and rippled through every muscle on her face. Her mouth filled with spit which had begun to spill out of the side of her numbing lips. She felt a wetness against her ear too, it was most likely bleeding as well.

Her father was bent over her, his face red with muted rage and his mouth open wide as he shouted words that Juliet couldn’t hear. The only sound she heard was a prolonged high pitched noise, drowning out everything else. The hit had stunned her and she struggled to remember why her father had done it. Usually there was something she had done wrong, something that angered him, something that forced him to teach her a lesson.

Her father continued to scream in her face, the hot air from his breath hit her already burning cheek. Juliet just stared back, her eyebrows pinched together in a mixture of pain and confusion.

A scream tore from her throat when a hand gripped her chin and began to squeeze. “Are you listening to me?” her father raged. Her hearing started to return but the sound was still muffled. In an effort to stop his assault on her face, Juliet began to nod her head in frantic movements until her father released her.

Her father staggered backwards and ran a hand through his grey hair, tugging on the strands. Juliet spat a mixture of spit and blood onto the floor and forced her head up to watch him. He looked off balance, his eyes were wild and unfocused as they scanned Juliet.

As the seconds passed, and the pain became less urgent, Juliet remembered what she had done to deserve such punishment.

Elijah decided that the first stage in her ‘salvation’ was confession. It turns out he wasn’t a big fan of the answers Juliet gave him. Her father’s hands had begun to shake when she answered his questions about Ethan. His face turned red when he asked her about Boston. And the slap came after he asked about travelling with Joel.

“Your confession is not done, Juliet. I can sense there is more you have not revealed,” her father urged. “You cannot begin to cleanse until I know how soiled you are.”

The bile rose in Juliet’s throat again, but she swallowed it down and steadied her features. It surprised her, the anger that had started to build within herself.

“Let’s try again, shall we?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. “Tell me about your time with Joel.”

“No,” Juliet murmured, before spitting more blood. The thought of Joel brought pain far worse than the bruises blossoming across her face. Her father had no right to ask about him. And for what? For some sick possessive insight into the intimate parts of her life. Her father believed he had full ownership of her, like she was his to control like a child’s doll. Juliet hadn’t realised this until a couple years into living in the QZ, when the wounds from her childhood began to scab over. When her memories became clearer, and she saw her father for what he really was.

“No,” she said again, louder this time. That slap had awoken something inside her. That slap was no different to the slaps she received as a young girl. Even when she did everything he asked of her, he would always find something to punish her for. When she opened her eyes into her father’s wild stare, she realised that nothing she would ever do would be good enough for him.

The thought was freeing, almost. Even strapped to a chair in the basement of her father’s house, Juliet felt liberated.

And with that liberation, came a sense of recklessness.

“No?” her father finally asked, repeating her resistance with a quirked brow. “The mention of Joel seems to have hit a nerve,” he taunted, “has Ethan truly been replaced? Joel’s a bit old for you, isn’t he, my dear?”

Juliet’s hands began to tremble. Not with fear, but with rage.

“He has nothing to do with this,” she insisted, her hands curling into fists. Elijah noted the movement with great interest.

“Hmmmm,” he began, walking forward again. Her father liked to tower over Juliet when he could, she assumed it made him feel in control, made him feel powerful. Maybe it reminded him of when she was truly a child, before she had thoughts of her own.

“I saw the way Joel looked at you. I saw the way he watched you. It was like he had claimed you,” her father snarled.

Juliet glared at him as she gritted her teeth. She felt like she was balancing on a tightrope, one wrong move and she’d fall to her death. Bravery was not always rewarded. But Juliet couldn’t stifle the rage that had burned inside her, and the remaining throbbing pain from his slap only ignited that fire.

“I am not a thing to be claimed,” Juliet ground out, struggling to control her anger. “I’m not yours, I’m not anyone’s.”

Elijah was silent, but Juliet held her ground, she didn’t break the withering stare she threw his way. Everything had been taken from her, she had nothing left to lose.

“Who taught you that?” her father demanded, then barked out a short laugh. “I am your father, I have every claim over you.”

“Father’s are supposed to love their daughters, not own them,” Juliet protested. Her eyes began to fill with frustrated tears, but her words grew louder, more forceful. “This isn’t love. It’s possession.”

Juliet had watched fathers with their daughters in the Boston QZ, she had watched their smiles and their laughs. Juliet knew what fatherly love was supposed to look like, and this wasn’t it.

Elijah stalked those last few steps towards her and placed his hands over her restrained wrists, pressing his weight down on them until their faces were inches apart. Juliet leaned back as far as she could, her face flinching with discomfort. Her wrists began to ache, and Juliet’s arms started shaking involuntarily. Elijah enjoyed watching her struggle. His lips transformed into a sneer, and his eyes shone with a sick delight. And the anger… his rage was rolling off of him in waves, he could barely keep it contained.

“The world is not safe, Juliet ,” he whispered inches from her face, her name dropped from his lips like a curse. “There are demons, yes. Those infected monsters, with their peeling faces and sharp teeth. But there is worse out there. Hunters, raiders who crawl the country, killing and gutting people with no remorse -”

Elijah cut himself off with a heavy sigh, then his words became frenzied. “I kept you here, I kept you safe from that. I kept you safe because you are my property, you are mine to protect. And I will not lose another daughter to -”

He stopped, letting go of her wrists immediately. The blood rushed back into them and Juliet began to feel her fingers again, but that relief was the furthest thing from her mind.

Another daughter?

Her father staggered back another few steps, he looked horrified. His mask slipped right off his face as he said those words, now he struggled to put it back on. He wiped a hand over his forehead and when he brought it back down, the horror was gone. He was seething, his whole body moved with the force of his brutal breaths.

“What do you mean, another daughter?” Juliet whispered, but her voice sounded far away.

Her father flinched. Juliet was unsure if what she was experiencing was real, or a dream. Maybe she passed out when he hit her, maybe this was all in her imagination. Because her father’s bravado had never faltered, and yet here he stood before her, visibly flinching at her words.

Elijah started to pace in front of Juliet’s chair, his steps brisk and savage. Juliet’s mind was still clouded, so it took her a few seconds to realise he was mumbling to himself.

Then he stopped, turning to face Juliet. He looked like he was arguing with himself, he was losing control, unravelling right in front of her. For the first time since she could remember, Juliet looked at her father and saw weakness staring back at her.

“Your parents couldn’t protect you, sweet Juliet,” he began. His eyes had a detached look in them, like he wasn’t really standing in front of her.

Juliet swore her heart stopped at his words.

“They didn’t have what it took to survive. They didn’t have the determination to keep you safe,” Elijah continued, raising his bible in the air as he spoke.

Nausea washed over her.

“I saved you. I saved you from them . And then I spared them any more suffering.”

He paused to inhale a deep breath, as though his words were suffocating him. But he wasn’t finished.

“You looked so much like her, with your brown eyes and curls. And your cry, when your parents hit the floor, God, it sounded so much like her’s.”

Juliet didn’t know how much more of this she could take, the nausea was overpowering her.

“I knew at that moment that you were mine, that you were my second chance. I could take you in, protect you, make sure you were never taken from me. Never stolen away.”

The ringing in Juliet’s ears returned, and she leaned forward and vomited all over the floor.

Her father didn’t take his eyes off of her, wasn’t even remotely startled by the evidence of her disgust. He walked forward and bent down until they were at eye level, then he lifted a hand and reached towards her chin.

Juliet’s entire body recoiled from his touch. She felt a wetness on her cheeks and nearly gasped in shock when she realised she was crying. Tears were flowing down her face and dripping onto her neck. Elijah tried again, reaching forward to grab her chin in his tight hold.

A moment ago, when Elijah’s own confession fell from his lips, his eyes looked wistful, haunted. But now, as he knelt before her, that simmering fury had returned. He began to tighten his grip on her chin.

Juliet couldn’t feel the pain anymore, she couldn’t feel much of anything.

“The one thing I couldn’t protect you from, my dear, was your own stupidity,” her father growled, his lips pulling back into a snarl.

Juliet began to struggle in his grip, attempting to pull herself away from his hand, but it was no use. With her wrists and legs restrained, Juliet was powerless.

“All those years, feeding you, keeping you sheltered in my home, behind the fence I built, in the community I created,” he paused to shake his head. “And you repaid me by running away, by throwing my protection back in my face.”

“You insulted me once, Juliet. I will not let that happen again.”

Elijah released her chin suddenly and Juliet’s gaze dropped to the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes again. There was nothing behind his icy stare. Juliet could no longer predict his movements, his actions.

Her father was playing his own game and she had no idea of the rules.

She couldn’t even begin to unravel everything he just confessed to. Juliet was in shock, nothing made sense anymore. She felt lightheaded, maybe if she just passed out everything would go away, she would wake up lying next to Joel in the woods. Another hot tear rolled down her burning cheek.

“Daniel!” Elijah bellowed.

Juliet blinked, finally raising her eyes to look around her. Her father stood by the fire, the poker in his hand. There was something else there too, he was clipping something onto the poker, but her eyes were too blurry with tears to see.

The door at the top of the basement stairs opened and Daniel came into view. He didn’t say a word, just walked up behind her and hovered, waiting on her father’s instructions. Juliet’s stomach dropped, an icy dread churning in her gut.

After another agonisingly long minute, Elijah pulled away from the fire and turned towards her. Juliet's eyes immediately dropped to the poker in his hands. And the red hot metal letters attached to the end of it.

E.M. Elijah Matthews.

The nausea struck Juliet, hard and fast. She nearly doubled over, but by some miracle, she stayed upright. Her legs began to tremble, shaking the metal chair beneath her. Juliet had figured out her father’s next move.

“No, no, no, no,” she began to cry, pulling against the ropes with enough force to tear skin.

She watched as her father nodded to Daniel behind her and felt his hands come down on her shoulders.

“I don’t want it to be too visible, Daniel please lift up her shirt,” her father ordered, as he continued his slow walk towards her. The white hot end of the poker reflected in his eyes and illuminated the cruel shape of his mouth.

“No!” Juliet screamed through thick tears as Daniel’s rough hands reached down and lifted up her shirt, revealing her stomach.

Elijah stopped in front of her, peering down, relishing in her fear.

“This isn’t love,” Juliet cried, defeat seeping into her tone.

Her father smiled, a real smile this time.

“Love is pain, my sweet Juliet. You just have to be strong enough to bear it,” he said softly. “It’s time you remember who you belong to.”

Then he brought the end of the poker down on Juliet’s stomach.

Juliet felt a scream crawl up her throat, but she couldn’t hear a thing.

The ringing in her ears drowned out everything around her. The smell of her burning flesh met her nose just as dark spots began to dance across her vision.

As the darkness consumed her, a familiar face flashed before eyes. In her current state, Juliet could not recall the man’s name, but she felt warm, and she felt safe as he gently wiped her tears with his rough, calloused fingers.

……………………………………………..

Joel’s POV:

It didn’t take them long to reach Juliet’s house. No one stopped them as they darted through the quiet streets, Ethan staggering to keep up with Joel.

The house looked different in the dark. It was still old and crumbling, but without the twilight sky bathing it in a soft blue light, the house no longer looked sad.

It looked dangerous.

They staggered to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps, the lights in the house were on so they kept to the shadows.

Joel’s fingers clenched and unclenched in a constant, repetitive movement. Joel had fed every bit of fear and regret churning in his gut into his anger, and now it crawled over his skin, desperate for release.

Ethan signalled with his head towards a side door, Joel nodded and took the lead. He didn’t trust Ethan. He didn’t trust that he could protect Juliet, he didn’t trust his motives.

But Ethan knew this house, so Joel had to trust that he knew how to get them in.

“They’ll be in the basement,” Ethan mouthed to Joel before they reached the side door.

Joel frowned, horror starting to overpower his rage. But there was no time to question how Ethan knew this, or what that meant for Juliet. Joel just bit the skin inside his cheek and reached his hand towards the door handle.

It was unlocked.

He turned back to Ethan before entering the house. It was two against two, Joel wasn’t worried about gunning down the men that surrounded Juliet. Joel just wanted to be the one to deal with Elijah. A single bullet was too easy for him.

Killing was not often a pleasure for Joel, it was always a necessity. But he knew he would enjoy watching Elijah bleed.

The house was silent, eerily so.

Joel began to feel that sense of wrongness from earlier. He didn’t listen to his gut the first time, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. They had to hurry.

With another sharp nod from Joel, Ethan moved through the house until he reached a door in the middle of the hall. Then he stepped back, darting his gaze up to Joel’s face.

Joel gripped his shotgun, his fingers flexing across the handle. Ethan echoed his movements, then squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Joel noted the nervous action. He wondered what Ethan had seen in this basement that made him so fearful of it.

Without another thought, Joel, in one powerful movement, kicked open the basement door and began his descent into the dark room. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation of a fight.

Time slowed as Joel moved down the steps, his head turning to try and get a sense of the layout but it was so dark.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

It was something rotten, but he couldn’t place it.

It didn’t matter anyways, he wasn’t able to give it much thought, because a man rounded the corner, pulling his gun out of his back pocket.

Joel fired a bullet through his skull before he got the chance.

Time continued to slow as Joel reached the bottom step, his gun still out in front of him. Ethan’s presence looming behind him.

Moving around the corner into the room, the smell increased, burning Joel’s nose. If he wasn’t being driven by pure survival instincts at that moment, he would have gagged.

Another step into the room and Joel spotted a dwindling fire at the back wall, and a man standing next to it, his hands in the air, his mouth open.

Another step and Joel noticed the chair sitting opposite the fire, and the bent figure of a person hunched over, their head at an unnatural angle.

Another step and the man scrambled for the poker by the fire, branding it like a weapon.

Another step and Joel rounded on the figure in the chair.

With one sharp inhale, Joel realised that the figure in the chair was a girl.

With one skipped heartbeat, Joel recognised the bruised and battered face of Juliet.

With one glance downwards, Joel noticed the horrific amount of blood pooled around her torso, dripping onto the floor.

With one strangled gasp, Joel knew that she was dead.

Time picked up again, moving at a rapid pace all at once. Joel whipped his gaze from Juliet’s body to the man by the fire. Elijah.

Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s steps pound behind him. Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s pained scream. Joel didn’t hear his own guttural cry as he threw himself at Juliet’s father.

He dropped his gun, letting it swing from the strap on his shoulder. Joel’s hands knocked the poker from Elijah’s grip then met his neck with a brutal intensity, slamming him against the fireplace, pinning him against the stone wall above it.

Elijah reached his hands up, clawing at Joel’s arms. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Joel’s face shook with fury, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. He was snarling at the man in his grip, practically growling as he increased the pressure in his hands. Joel was an animal, his instincts had taken over.

Some distant part of Joel’s brain heard Ethan yelling, screaming. But Joel wasn’t listening, the only thing he was focused on was the man in front of him begging for air.

Juliet’s face flashed in his mind, and he pushed harder, practically crushing her father’s throat.

This was the man who had killed her, this was the sick, disgusting man who had made her life a living hell. And there he was, writhing and choking in Joel’s grip.

But it wasn’t enough for Joel.

The image of Juliet’s neck, bent at an unthinkable angle, and the blood, god, the blood that poured from her.

Joel wanted, no, needed, to watch Elijah bleed too.

He released his grip so suddenly that Juliet’s father almost fell into the fire, but Joel caught him before that happened. With one hand tight on Elijah’s shoulder, lifting him up, Joel pulled back his other arm and fired his fist into his face.

Once

Twice…

Joel lost count after twenty or so hits.

Elijah’s face was unrecognisable, but Joel couldn’t even see him anymore. It was Juliet’s face that covered his vision. He watched her roll her eyes at him, he watched her lips twitch into a reluctant smile, he watched her head tilt back as she laughed.

Joel knew Elijah was dead, but he kept punching.

Blood splattered his face, and his fist burned, but he kept punching.

Joel kept punching because he knew that if he stopped, he’d have to turn around and face Juliet’s lifeless body. He’d have to look at her face and know that she would never smile again, never roll her eyes at his grumpy remarks, never laugh with a recklessness he wished he could imitate.

Ethan’s yelling started to seep into Joel’s consciousness, growing louder. But he wasn’t screaming for Juliet, he was screaming at Joel.

Joel pulled back from Elijah, breathing heavy. How weak, how pathetic he looked as a bloody mess resembling a man.

Joel glanced down at the small fire, still burning quietly, then pushed Elijah’s body into the weakening blaze. Joel watched as the fire started to lick at his skin, blistering his flesh.

The smell struck his nose, and Joel whipped around towards Juliet’s body. That was what he had smelled when he entered the basement. Joel didn’t think that more rage could coat around his heart, but somehow this realisation brought forth a wave of anger he didn’t even think his body was capable of containing.

“Lift up her shirt,” Joel commanded with a lifeless voice, staring numbly at Juliet’s bloodied torso.

Ethan was still shouting, but Joel continued to block him out.

“Lift up her shirt,” he demanded again, louder this time, harsher.

Ethan carefully reached around Juliet and rolled up her shirt.

There it was, barely visible beneath the layer of thick blood, a brand marking her skin. E.M.

Joel ached to turn around, pull Elijah out of the fire and continue pummelling his face. But as he looked closer, a muscle in his very tight jaw jumped when he noticed that, despite the amount of blood, the brand was the only wound on Juliet’s stomach.

Joel’s eyes darted to Ethan, who had cut the ropes on Juliet’s wrists and ankles free, and now sat on his knees with his fingers latched on the underside of Juliet’s raw wrist.

“She’s alive,” Ethan croaked out. “I can feel her pulse, it’s weak but it’s there.”

Ethan’s words washed over Joel and he staggered backwards. Relief was quick and brutal, but it did nothing to ease his horror. Juliet sat broken before him. Not dead, but nearly. Almost.

“Get up,” Joel barked out, gesturing for Ethan to stand and move away from Juliet.

When he didn’t move quick enough, Joel snarled, “get the fuck away from her,” in his lifeless voice. His eyes didn’t leave Juliet’s face. She was so pale, and covered in blood and bruises.

Ethan scrambled away from her and Joel moved forward, his steps were heavy, like he was wading through water. But his hands, though fractured and bruised, were so gentle as they slid behind her back, tucking under her legs and lifting her broken body to his chest. Her head rolled onto his shoulder and Joel tilted his chin down towards her. His eyes shuttered closed as his stubbled jaw grazed over Juliet’s dark hair.

He kept watching her until he felt her chest rise and fall with a shallow breath. Joel almost choked with relief. Then the terror snuck back in. She was so cold, and there was so much blood. They had to get out of here, get somewhere safe.

Joel couldn’t spend another second in this basement.

Time slowed to a crawl again as he walked the fourteen steps out of the basement, Juliet’s fragile body shivering against him.

Joel vowed, with each step he climbed, that he would never again let Juliet out of his sight, never again allow her to suffer, until she begged him herself to go.

If Juliet allowed it, he would burn anything and anyone who ever dared to hurt her.

______________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

#joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #Spotify

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myeur-n · 10 months

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Imagine that the Darkling had just caused the death of his own mother, and he needed to look for you once more

Note:

Purely based on s2 of the Shadow and Bone Netflix series, so some lore might be incorrect

"We've used the last of Baghra's remains for the others," the Darkling's Alkemi informed him, but he remained in his lonely despair in a mind unhinged. He needed a break from all of this planning to expand the Fold and consume the whole of Ravka in his darkness - he needed,

"The Wanderer," he murmured under his breath as his eyes darkened with a new way to beat this grief festering within him.

"Vladim, tell everyone to make use of their new Amplifiers. I'm going to scout ahead for some time," the Darkling pushed himself off his chair and began to march out of his own encampment.

"But General, why can't you just let the others do it for you?" his Alkemi raised a brow.

"That's none of your concern," the Darkling turned back at him, eyes glaring into his very soul while the corners of his camp turned darker. "Do as I say and speak nothing of it?" He ordered again through gritted teeth. The Alkemi pressed his lips hard against each other and nodded.

The Darkling mounted his horse and wasted no time astriding North, knowing what he needed was somewhere in the Fjerdan borders, the last time he had heard of her.

You were knee deep in a river with a ceramic vase in your hand. As you dipped it into the cold yet calm, icy river to collect the cold waters, you carefully walked your way out of river. Looking around your surroundings first to ensure that no one was looking, you slowly heated the vase with your own fire.

"Not very discreet now, aren't we?" A familiar voice suddenly called out from within the darkness of the forest ahead of you.

"Who's there?" You frowned and clenched your fists tight, though you already had an idea whose voice it belonged to.

"Y/n, has it really been that long since we last saw each other?" The Darkling calmly sauntered out of the shadows of the trees, with both his hands clasped behind his back.

"Its you. How long has it been? Half a century, I'd bet," you moved toward him and shoved your vase into his hands.

"Do you not know who I am?" He turned to you with a cold tone, but you've been living in the Fjerdan mountains long enough to know that he was just playing around with you.

"Whatever identity you've taken this time, Aleksander, I don't care. Just don't bother me with your propaganda," and both of you began to walk towards your modest cabin made of wood and steel, blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

"Anyway, what brings you here? This place isn't exactly friendly to Grisha. And I've heard that you're not really popular in Ravka either," you opened the door and led him in first. Just as he was about to sit on your favourite spot and in your living room with his ridiculously massive fur coat, you forced it out of him, which he complied with a light, but bittersweet smile.

The Darkling was usually broody, but you knew that something was genuinely upsetting him.

"How about we sit by the fireplace while I make some tea, then? Just like old times," you offered.

"I'm willing to sit by the fireplace, but I do not wish to drink your horrible tea," he only said as he looked around your plain house. You nodded and went to the kitchen, still within earshot of what your guest would say.

"I didn't imagine that you would live someplace so... small, Little Saint," he remarked on the lack of decorations in your house. "Then again, you're the one who's lesser in ambition between us two,".

"You don't understand, Aleksander. Not everyone lives in your Little Palace, under the riches of the kings that betrayed our own kind," you brought two mugs of hot drinks to the fireplace and settled down slowly next to him, passing one of them to him.

"I told you, I don't want your tea," he groaned.

"Its hot cocoa. And stop complaining like a child," you rolled your eyes.

Cautiously, he accepted it and took a few sips, before he placed it down next to him.

"Y/n, there's something I must tell you," he began.

You didn't answer, but your silence beckoned him to continue talking.

"That is... I wish you could have accepted the title of Saint, y/n. If you had been at the Little Palace with me from the start, you could have kept me in check," he choked out his words.

"I don't think old friends could have changed you. You've turned from the path we used to walk together hundreds of years ago,".

"But with you there, you could have at least - burnt some sense into me, like you've always done," he hissed as his eyes glared into fireplace. "You could have...," he breathed, then your living room began to darken with his shadow.

"Could have what?".

"You could have saved me from killing my own mother," his voice trembled as the confession took place.

"What?" You resigned your comfort in his presence and began to crawl backwards and away from him.

"Its true. I killed my mother-,".

"How could you do that to Baghra?!" You shot upwards, now fully standing and prepared to summon your wildfire to protect yourself.

Had the Darkling came to you to destroy every reminder of his past? Both of you had been comrades since you were children - you were his first friend, follower and soldier. If he could kill Baghra - the very person who birthed him and stood by his side for centuries, then what of you?

"No, no, don't be scared, y/n!" He held his hands out, expression contorted in fear - but not fear of you.

You summoned a sphere of concentrated fire, but then, suddenly the shadow around you began to form a beast of more than 8 feet tall, barely able to fit into your own cabin. The beast brushed past the Darkling and stretched out its dark tentacles toward you, prepared to decapitate you - and you recognised it from Baghra's old stories, that it was a Nichevo'ya.

Only the Sun Summoner could stun this monster.

You spread out your fire into the Cut, prepared to fight against it.

"NO, don't do it!" The Darkling shouted, but his voice drowned out between you and the monster. You took a deep breath, and as the Nichevo'ya stretched its hands towards you for the killing blow, you quickly turn defensive and made a shield of fire.

It let out an ear-piercing scream, and you summoned a beam of fire from your core, before you penetrated it into the monster of darkness.

The Nichevo'ya disappeared into the shadows.

Your breathing was ragged and you needed to take a seat, so you clumsily rest yourself against your own wall.

"Was that the thing that killed your mother?" You let out a tired sigh.

"Yes...," the Darkling only stared in silence at you.

"And it's yours?".

"Yes,".

"How dare you use merzost again! Can't you see that its hurt thousands of people once, and now you've gone ahead and did it to your own mother," you exclaimed at him and rushed to open the door. "Get out and never come back. I can't see you like this," turning your gaze away from his scarred face, you tried to control your breathing.

"You know I never meant to, y/n," he began to unbuckle his knees and slowly approached you, as if he feared both your wrath and himself.

"It was always like that, Aleksander. You weren't a monster when all of this obsession to save our kind began. You were our commander - someone I could pour my loyalty for. But now," you turned your head away, holding back your tears. "You're obsessed with hunting down this Sun Summoner of yours and expanding the Fold. Won't that kill all Grisha too?".

The Darkling pursed his lips and studied your face. Slowly turning to finally meet his eyes once, you realised that he was displeased with your opinions, but made no move to silent you with any threat.

"I promised those that follow my command they will be safe," he added in a low voice.

"And I'll bet that they believed it. However, you know that you can't fool me. I was there with you for hundreds of years, heard thousands of your promises to all of Grisha. And you only brought upon them ruin and death with your ambition,".

Your old friend remained silent and only stared at you, wide-eyed and furious. He shifted his gaze to the door you've opened wide to beckon for his leave. Nodding, his legs slowly brought him outside your house. You followed him out as if you're still attracted to his power of command like all those years ago.

"Aleksander," you said once more, and he stopped in his tracks at the middle of forest. "You're not a monster like what everyone has said, especially your Alina Starkov. If she had seen what the previous kings had done to Grisha, the way that people had hunted us down and refused to provide us any food and water - simply because you requested more from the king, she would have done the same despite what she thought of herself," you approached him and cupped his one metallic hand, and his real one in yours.

You flinched a bit at how cold it was.

"I know I can't stop you once you've started your plans, but please," you began to rub your fingers against his knuckles, warming them up with your fire of hearth. "Don't kill the Sun Summoner. You're already lonely enough, and I can't see you ruin yourself for another century again," your breath trembled.

He nodded, and only looked into your bright eyes of hope with his starless ones. You weren't begging him to promise himself to your words, for you knew that your old friend couldn't break his promises to you - and so his silence revealed to you - that even he did not know if he would kill his Sun Summoner or not.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and embraced him. The Darkling closed his eyes, held back his breath and only buried his face within your arms.

Something was telling you that this might be the last time you'd see him, and he thought so too.

#shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #fanfic #fem reader #the darkling #ben barnes #friends #aleksander morozova #aleksander x y/n #inferni #grishaverse #final battle #aleksander x reader #alina starkov #sun summoner #shadow summoner #y/n #angst #shadow and bone s2

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majorbaby · 1 year

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The minute I cut that rope they made me a soldier. MASH Season 11, Episode 6 — Bombshells

I used to post practically every week about s11e06 Bombshells because it's my favourite BJ episode and the one I find most fascinating, because BJ seems to frequently think that it's BJ against the world, and Bombshells is a rare example where I think this is narratively true. At last, here are my lengthy but decently articulated thoughts about this Very Special Episode (to me!).

BJ has this "lone wolf" view of himself because he either imagines he has nothing in common with the people around him and therefore it's hard for him to relate to them, or he actually has a hard time relating.

Aside from Potter, who is hardly his peer, and Frank who is The Worst and also leaves two seasons into BJ's run, BJ is the only main cast member who has a wife and/or child waiting for him at home. He's in a different stage of his life than anyone else, and he lashes out at Hawkeye and Margaret at different points claiming specifically that they can't possibly understand what he's going through by being in Korea, away from his family. But for a few differences in their personalities, their world views, and I suspect their class backgrounds (though the latter two are open to interpretation), Trapper might be the character whose civilian life and role on the home front most closely resembled BJ's, and they should kiss about that tbh.

Relatability is important to BJ. We see that through the tension created when he feels his friends 'can't relate' to what he's going through to the point that he gets upset if they try to tell him they understand how he feels. We also see this through how he bonds to people from similar walks of life, for example, the patient in Death Takes a Holiday. Some of this is just normal human behaviour. It makes sense that BJ would relate better to people who share the same values as him, and a wife and children are symbols of those values. Of course, that doesn't mean we can't or shouldn't connect with people who have different lifestyles with us. BJ obviously does do that, although he doesn't stop wanting relatability and that can make things rocky for everyone involved. What I'm trying to say is, BJ isn't as alone as he seems to feel he is. In fact, it's kind of funny how not-alone he is, sharing a tiny tent with Charles and Hawkeye, which naturally causes tension between the three of them. And the fact that he relies very heavily on Hawkeye's support throughout the show.

But in Bombshells, he's really, properly alone. Early in the episode, he'd been giddy to get away from the camp and everyone in it to spend a day by himself, fishing peacefully. Then the most harrowing thing to ever happen to him onscreen happens, and Hawkeye isn't there, as he so often is, to shoulder it with him. All BJ has is a total stranger who gives him an impossible task that goes against pretty well everything BJ believes in, to a fault. A doctor forced to cause someone's death - imo, I think this moment is equally as traumatizing for BJ as Hawkeye's moment on the bus in Goodbye, Farewell and Amen. BJ, who couldn't get on board with Hawkeye's plan to do a medically unnecessarily surgery in Preventative Medicine — even if it meant they had a chance to prevent the further injury or deaths of dozens of patients — is forced to cut a man's life line. It's a devastating moment and I have a lot of sympathy for him.

I know BJ well enough at this point that I don't expect him to voluntarily reach out to anyone for help, but interestingly, his isolation is even mirrored by the B-plot. We get an unusual Hawkeye-Charles team-up, where they run a scam reminiscent of the ones Hawkeye and Trapper used to pull, duping the whole camp for funsies. It's not just that normally HawkBeej are the unit to Charles' lone-wolf, it's that Charles and BJ's roles are reversed here even in the tone the plots take: CharlesHawk are doing something frivolous together, while BJ pursues a serious plot - now it's possible my memory may be failing me, but I can't think of another episode that replicates this formula. One specific example of these plots playing off one another as the A/B plots regularly do on MASH: BJ makes a phone call to try to figure out if the man whose line he cut might've survived, while Hawkeye and Charles make a phone call to see if they can contact Marilyn Monroe, the star of their scam.

In typical BJ fashion, when Potter tries to ask if everything's okay, BJ pulls away and acts like everything is fine, but this time it's because he has a plan and he wants to see it through on his own, rather than just sit by himself feeling powerless. He even tells Potter he'd like to try another fishing trip — trying to catch the one he'd cut loose the day before. He does all of this on his own checking beds, asks around, flings open the doors of the ambulance trying to see who's inside — but the fact that these scenes are interspersed with the B-plot, this would make an interesting montage, which is the thought that inspired the gifset I made. It matters less to me why he's doing it and more that it's a rare instance of him doing it on his own.

If he thinks that's because no one can help him, the episode doesn't really argue with his assumption. Hawkeye can tell that something is off, but despite his efforts, BJ keeps himself out of reach. I do not like the position the narrative takes at the end, when BJ tells Hawkeye that they, as surgeons think they're "self-righteous" and better for thumbing their noses at the estabilshment - I think that's a pretty dishonest way to characterize everyone at the 4077th including BJ and an straight example of MASH's unfortunately centrist leanings in the later years.

But despite my problems with that messaging, I still like this episode for it being about BJ and his resolve, detached from those around him and detached from the other big part of the BJ character - his family. All the other big BJ episodes - Period of Adjustment, War Correspondent, Death Takes a Holiday - feature his personal relationships in a big way that drives the plot. Bombshells is an episode that promotes BJ to protagonist, demoting other characters who might otherwise play a role in the drama.

This is most striking to me when even Hawkeye is unable to reach BJ and plays no role in the resolution of the A-plot. He sympathizes with BJ and tries to comfort him with "Well you didn't have a lot of options" - that may be compassion from Hawkeye, but I think it probably sounds dismissive to BJ, and that puts them in an odd role-reversal: BJ in crisis, and everything Hawkeye says is cold comfort to him. Finally, Hawkeye resigns himself to the feeling that he can't help BJ with this and so he leaves when Margaret comes to get him.

I'm not especially fond of the way BJ resolves the plot by giving away his medal and is then shown to be somewhat at peace with that, not because I fault BJ for it, but because I take issue with the broader practice and so does the show on many an occasion. What's important to me is that BJ also does that completely on his own — tie-up the plot.

I could probably go on about how much I disagree with the messaging of this episode, how much I detest the show taking a shot at it's own formerly anti-establishment beat and how that actually does the BJ character a disservice, but I'm not going to here because it's not as important to me as the unique format of this episode.

Bomshells is no s04e19 Hawkeye, but I really appreciate having so much textual stuff to chew on for BJ, rather than having me sit here and try to interpret the inconsistent writing that the writers admitted to for BJ, or Mike Farrell's acting directions. You could say this about a lot of characters, but BJ really deserved to be given the opportunity to stand on his own two feet more often.

#bj hunnicutt #mash #m*a*s*h #re: mash #beej meta #s11e06 bombshells #maybe now i can finally chill tf out about this damn episode #probably not tho <3 #majorbaby.gif #had to get my nod to MY beejtrap leanings in there 8D

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sankta-starkova · 3 days

Text

THE OUTSIDERS

009 | always watching

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summary: the one where daisy returns to camp from college and is blinded by her love for him, even as the world ends

wordcount: 3k

Daisy hadn't had a bad nightmare in months. Not a bad one anyway.

Ever since Percy, Annabeth and Grover came, something had shifted in camp and it was like the doomsday clock had started ticking faster.

That's why she felt the need to protect the kids, to shelter them from whatever storm was coming her way.

What she didnt know was that there was a force out there more powerful than anyone could ever imagine and it had her eyes on her.

Daisy was too powerful. She had too much influence within camp, too many friends. And she was a distraction for their main target.

After the quest, she had been cursed with dreams that told her about all the awful things that the Gods did.

Then they started to fade and the memories of the quest would haunt her as she slept. She had been safe for a while, but as she fell asleep two nights after the kids left for their quest, she didn't know what would be waiting for her.

In her dream, she was back where it had all started to go wrong. They barely managed to escape the garden of Hesperides where they had been tasked to find one of three golden apples.

The dragon was more than they had expected and both her and Luke managed to stumble out, barely holding onto their lives.

His arm was around her shoulders, supporting her. He had seen her get hit by the dragon but so had he. They just had to keep moving.

She collapsed onto the sidewalk, dragging him down with her as she let out a scream of pain.

They had been running for so long and exhaustion and pain were starting to catch up with her.

"Get up Des, we have to go, come on," They couldn't afford to stop. He hitched his arm under hers and tried to get her to keep running.

"I can't move," she groaned out in pain, a hand flying down to her side.

He set her down gently onto the curb and watched as she pulled her hand away, sticky with blood.

Luke could feel the bile rising up in his throat as he touched the hem of her shirt, looking into her eyes.

She nodded and he lifted the shirt up slightly to reveal the wound. She had been scratched by the dragon earlier on their escape when she pushed Luke out of the way.

He ignored the pain blossoming on his face, the cut most likely to leave a scar as he realised how much trouble she was in.

Luke thought he was going to lose her.

"Fuck, let's go," he muttered before picking her up bridal style and rushing down the street.

The sun was setting and there was nobody around so Luke punched a hole through a cars window before starting it up.

He placed her in the passenger seat and finished hot wiring the car before the engine ignited and he started driving back to camp.

When he nearly hit a curb, she looked at him confused, "Do you even know how to drive?"

"No, but how can it be too hard," he said with a shrug and she just stared at him, horrified. If the dragon didnt kill her, Lukes driving certainly would, "You stay back there, you don't move,"

She let out a hiss of pain when he drove too fast over a speed bump, jolting her and he looked over at her with panic in his eyes.

"You're gonna be alright, just stay with me," he said, trying to keep his eyes on the road whilst also looking after her.

"I'm so tired Luke," she could feel how heavy her eyelids were, just begging to close.

His eyes went wide, "No Daisy, you stay away for me. Stay awake," his hand flew out, resting on her knee to try to rustle her awake, "Keep talking,"

"I wish I could see my mum again, I wish I spent more time with her before she died," her words were getting slurred and he knew she needed help.

Every bone in his body told him that he had to do this. That there was only one place that they could go to rest.

His heart and his head were having an internal battle but as he saw the familiar Conneticut signs and buildings, he knew exactly where to go.

He took a sharp turn, not noticing the way that Daisy's head slumped against the seat before he pulled into a suburban neighbour, looking for a specific house.

Quickly, he pulled up onto the drive and parked in front of some random house.

He turned to unbuckle Daisy and that's when he noticed that she was unconscious. His hand flew to her neck as he frantically tried to find her pulse.

"No, no, no," he wanted to scream out, cursing the Gods for doing this to him. His hands were shaking, unable to find her pulse, "Come on baby, I can't lose you too,"

When he felt that steady thump of her pulse, he let out a sigh of relief, head knocking against the passenger seat in relief.

He walked to the other side of the door, picking her up bridal style once again before pounding on the door.

An older woman opened up. Her hair was brown but turning grey and if Daisy was awake, she would have been able to spot the resemblance in an instant.

It was his mother.

"Luke. My boy, come on in," she said excitingly, ushering her son in.

She closed the door behind her and Luke looked around at the house he had grown up in. It was dark and there was stacks of sandwiches lined up on the tables. Just like he liked.

"Hi mum, please can you give me alone a moment to settle in," he couldn't deal with her insanity right now.

He looked down at Daisy, wondering if his mother could see her through thr mist of not but he didn't care. All that mattered was that she was okay.

"Sure, I'll bake a fresh batch of cookies for you," she said, patting her son on the cheek before walking into the kitchen.

He cringed internally. This was the last place he wanted to be. He couldn't stand to even look at his mother or his childhood house but he had to suck it up for Daisy.

Muscle memory took him towards his childhood room and he nudged the door open with his knee before looking around.

He lay her down on what was now a twin sized bed. That's when he realised that everything else had stayed the same except his mother had bought him a new bed. It was almost like she knew he would come home one day.

"Luke," she mumbled, eyes blinking as they tried to adjust to the light.

Daisy had never felt this much pain before. Not after the car crash that killed her mum and stepdad, not when the monster attacked her on the way home from school.

She couldn't even hold her head up and if it wasn't for Luke having propped her up slightly in the bed, she wouldn't even be able to see him sitting there next to her.

He looked exhausted. She didn't know where she was or how they had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was collapsing in the little North Dakoga town.

Luke didn't seem too injured. All she could see was a large cut over his eye, the blood still slightly oozing from the wound.

He grabbed her hand, moving slightly closer to her. He had been so worried that she wouldn't wake up but now she was here. She was alive.

"I'm here, I'm here," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

He fed her an ambrosia squarez hoping that he had given her the correct amount.

"I'm really cold," Daisy said, her voice already sounding more alert.

He nodded, knowing that with the amount of blood loss she had sustained, she wad probably struggling.

"You're gonna have to sew me up," she said and his eyes went wide at the idea.

Without hesitation, he searched his house for his mothers first aid kit before returning back.

She walked him through it, telling him what to do even when it really hurt. He cleaned the wound, apologising profusely every time she swore under her breath.

He even sowed her up again. It was haphazard but it would have to do until they got back to camp.

He fed her an ambrosia square - the last one that they had - and she took a second, tasting her mother's pasta on her tongue.

She felt better nearly instantly, not even flinching as he wrapped the bandage around her stomach.

When he was down, he pulled away, a blush on his face from how much he had touched her. Normally she would make fun of him but it didn't seem like an appropriate time.

As warmth flooded her system and she began to feel better, she realised how injured Luke was.

"Your face," her hand reached up and she brushed against the skin next to it, careful not to irritate the wound.

His face flushed at the touch, "I'm fine, I'm fine. I don't care about me all I need is for you to live,"

"You've got to be alright as well," she responded, eyebrows scrunched up.

Daisy knew that she couldn't live without him. Not now and not ever.

Luke shrugged his shoulders, "Nobody would care if I died," he said, almost like he had thought about it before. His legacy.

"Loads of people would. I would," her voice was soft as she grabbed his hand, "I need you luke,"

They were silent for a second, staring into one another's eyes. Who knows what would have happened if there hadn't been a knock on the door.

"Who's your friend?" A voice said and they both turned to look at the door.

Their adrenaline was still up after the quest and it was survival instincts that made them belive it was a threat.

The woman at the door was just Lukes mother and all she wanted was to make sure they were okay. She held a plate of cookies in her hands, setting them down on the table shakily.

Daisy tried to sit up, wanting to be more polite and actually meet Lukes mother but he stopped her from going too far, hand on top of hers.

When she saw that, his mothers eyes lit up, "Girlfriend? How wonderful,'

"Mom, no-" Luke started, eyes wide.

At that point, he had only just figured out his love for her. When he saw her bleeding out, that was the moment he knew he wouldn't survive without her.

Daisy just squeezed his hand, "Let her be happy Luke," she muttered to him.

She knew what it was like when people were not fully there. They couldn't explain their situation and she knew it would hurt less to just go along with it.

"It's lovely to meet you Mrs Castellan, I'm Daisy Valance," She said, sitting up.

May had the biggest grin on her face. This traumatised woman seemed happy to be able to be with her son for a little while.

"What a gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl," she said, hands shaking as she reached forward for her son who just pulled away, "You must stay for a while,"

"Maybe a few days. Thank you for your hospitality ma'am," Daisy could see how much she wanted them to stay and it pained her to know they would leave again.

"No problem. For my boys girlfriend, you can have anything," She stepped forward, patting her leg before walking out of the room.

It was silent for a little while after that. She didnt know just how troubled his mother was.

"I thought you said she could see through the mist," Daisy said. She knew they must look bad, bruised and bloody.

"She can. Just not very well anymore," he said, a sombre tone to his voice, almost like he was trying to remember how she was before she went insane, "We can't stay for long,"

"Just for a while. I can barely move Luke," she said, looking up at him.

He squeezed her hand, just like she had done earlier, "For you. Anything," he echoed his mother's sentiment.

They ate some of the edible food in the house before she fell asleep, exhausted after the day.

Her temperature had gone up and her wound looked okay and he hoped she was going to be okay. He didn't know what he'd do without her.

When he was sitting on the porch later that night, he heard a rustling in the bushes, pulling his sword out and looking at the figure.

"Son," the man said.

He shook his head, not in the mood to talk to him, "Go away Hermes,"

"I'm here to offer you help. I can get you back to camp tonight," he promised, "You should leave your mother alone, she is fragile,"

Luke stood up, pointing his finger at his father with an accusatory glare, "My girl is fragile. She needs help an-"

His father cut him off with a wave of his hand, "I'll get you a ride back to camp. They can fix her up there,"

"I won't accept anything from you," he said with a scoff.

"I know you stole money from your mother. You're my son after all, mischevious," luke could feel the money burning a hole in his pocket. He needed it to get back to camp.

"I'm not your son. I'm nobody's son," he spat out, turning back to look at his father.

He hadn't helped him at all during his life. He had gotten through life fine without him and he didn't need him now. Or ever.

"Olay. Whatever you want to say Luke," He held his hands up in surrender, knowing it was no use, "I've called a cab and it will be here tomorrow morning. 8 am sharp. It will take you both back to camp,"

"I failed the mission," he muttered, not sure if he was talking to Hermes or himself.

"Does it count as failing if you survived?" He asked cryptically.

Luke shook his head, furious still at his fathers appearance, "If she doesn't make it then it will be failure,"

"Luke," a voice called out and his heart sped up at the sound of her voice. She sounded so frail.

"She needs me," he said, eyes wide.

At that moment, Hermes saw the pure love in his sons eyes; it was the same look he used to have when looking at May.

He turned around, opening the door to the house and getting ready to step inside.

"Good luck my boy," He heard Hermes say before the door closed.

He went in and sat by her side, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She had this frantic look on her face that he didn't recognise.

"I had a nightmare, I'm sorry, I don't know why I called for you," she said, a little ashamed.

"We all get them," he said.

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut like it would keep out the memory, "This one was worst. There was this cloaked man and-"

He grabbed her hand again, holdig her, "Shh, don't worry about it right now. You need your rest,"

She felt weak. She wasn't supposed to be so weak. She was one of the best in camp and here she was crying, bedridden.

"Luke. Can you stay with me?" She asked sheepishly like a little child.

He moved to the other side of the double bed, tucking himself under the covers and lying down beside her.

She lay her head on his chest, feeling safe for the first time in a while. She could feel his heart pounding and she just cuddled up closer to her.

"Always," He promised. He loved her more than life itself and that's what he realised on this quest, "I'll never let anyone hurt you ever again,"

Daisy didn't even hear the end of his sentence because she had fallen asleep, so exhausted from her wounds.

He would get the taxi the next morning that his father had provided. Whilst he didnt need his hospitality, he needed to make sure Daisy was okay and the best place for her was at camp.

He struggled to sleep that night, unable to stop worrying about her and whether she was going to be okay.

Daisy in the present day woke up with a jolt, her hands pressed against the bed as she sat up.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest at the memory, her palms sweaty.

Even though the dream was over, she could still hear some voice laughing at her, mocking her naivety like there was something going on that she wasn't privy to.

Right now, she didn't want to think about it. She didnt want to relive the nightmares.

Slowly, she climbed down from her top bunk bed and looked around at the cabin. They were all asleep and she was standing there, shaking and horrified.

Without thinking, she walked put of her cabin, almost in a trance. She wandered into the Hermes cabin and everyone was fast asleep.

She turned and muscle memory walked her towards Lukes bunk. He was on the bottom bunk and she tapped him on the shoulder like a little girl again.

He opened his eyes blearily and when he saw her standing there, he knew something was wrong.

He rubbed his eyes before sitting up in the bed and finally getting a good look at her. Her eyes were red and she looked scared, more scared than he had seen her in years.

It had been a while since she had come here after a nightmare, asking for him to just hold her for a minute - it was only the second time since they started dating.

Luke knew what was wrong in an instant and he pulled her in for a hug, head laying on her chest.

"I don't know why it came back," she muttered before pulling away.

The bed was small but he pulled the cover up, encouraging her to get in with him.

She snuggled up close to him, half on him and half on the bed. She lay her head on his chest just like she had done when they were on the mission and he brushed a hand over her hair soothingly.

"I'm gonna protect you remember. You're safe when you're with me," he promised.

She nodded. She knew it was true. They had gone through so much on that quest but they were both alive and that's what matters.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked, voice quiet.

She shook her head and he knew that it must have been bad. He wondered if she had been visited by the man in the desert yet.

Maybe this was the moment where he turned 100% to the cause, no hesitation.

"I'll be here when you want to talk," he promised.

They spoke in hushed voices for a minute before she fell asleep against him.

He pressed a kiss to her head and this time, he managed to keep the nightmares away. He didn't let Kronos plague her with those dreams again.

Taglist:

@b3bybunny @inejghafawifesblog

A/N: I wanted to include some backstory for Luke and Daisy and I hope you liked the way it was formatted. Thank you everyone for reading this, your comments and your votes all mean a lot.

#the outsiders; luke castellan #luke castellan #charlie bushnell #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan x oc #percy jackson #percy jackson series #pjo #luke castellan fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson luke #percy jackson show #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction

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neverchecking · 10 months

Note

I know genderbent! reader was sort of a touch and go thing, I just want to add in my two-cents bc I'm a firm fan of topping and if I was given a penis Hylia herself could not save these boys from the whore I'd become. I still use he/him for the boys bc gender swapping is a slippery slope and I merely want to smash.

The focus was Koridai and Courage so I'm going to keep it on them. Spoilers: I didn't

tw/cw: NSFW, boys being a bit creepy, but this is yandere so that's to be expected, a bit of voyeurism for the triplets.

______

Those two are fucking menaces to reader, trying to pull out all stop for just the tip, holy hell that tip.

You bet your ass they're trying to pull all stops to guess the color, they didn't even try this hard to save Hyrule. I imagine that the two are a begrudging duo due to the fact that they probably joined the group at around the same time, also because of their overall cringe nature, birds of a feather and all that. While the other, more competent members are trying to find a way to reverse whatever this was those two are teaming up to try and get laid.

The vast majority of it isn't very smooth either. "Oh no, a snake bit you on your inner thigh, don't worry, I'll suck the venom out for you~" Courage winks, meanwhile Reader's just looks at him blankly, said snake nowhere to be seen.

They get smack upside the head multiple times by the other, more contained, members of the group (both not wanting to make reader more uncomfortable in any way, and also not wanting those two to be the one's reader sleeps with). Eventually though, they try to strike when reader is alone (good luck), trying to 'discreetly' use their bodies in order to entice reader to take a bit into them.

"holy hell is it hot in here!"

"...put your tiddies away"

"it's nothing you haven't seen before~"/"make me~"

I'm half tempted to make reader a little shit, tired of their advances that seemingly doubled since the shift, and just approach Hyrule one night like "I'm here to make an offer".

They refuse to hide it too. Reader just walk back to the camp smugly with a very happy Hyrule following behind they're so sick. Hyrule definitely has a hit on his back after this, but he can't seem to care when you allow him to sleep in your bedroll for the night. Maybe he can even stay next to you for protection while you guys travel🥺.

Maybe the pair manage to wear reader down. Koridai actually being quiet for once as reader rests against a tree or something, skillfully sliding his head against your thigh, resting right next to them. Reader accepts the fate, running their fingers through his hair, ignoring how their breath hitches the closer he moves his head towards their crotch.

Not to get too into it, but I imagine he (and by extension, other Link's) suck dick the same way they eat pussy: by trying to literally kill themselves with it. He doesn't even remember how Reader's cock got out, but the weight of it in his mouth nearly makes him finish. The motherfucker barely gets any air with the way he gags himself around it, forcing himself forward until his nose is buried against Reader's crotch, making the fingers in his air tighten.

Reader isn't necessarily getting any air either, not with the way Courage grips their hair, pulling them into a deep kiss and unashamedly moaning into their mouth.

He hates that he's not the one pleasing reader, but Kori had gotten there first, and if the two fought that reader would absolutely leave. No worries, he may not have been the first but he would most certainly be the best.

---

Also as I was writing this I kept thinking about Sage and how he wouldn't stand for that taking place, so here I am finally giving the walking red flag some attention.

Only it's to immediately cuck him because I have favorites and it's not him.

You bet your ass he would 100% be Reader's #1 defender against those two, and maybe reader thanks him with a gift of their own, something a bit more personal.

Or maybe he's just as bad as they are once he realizes that it's working, and reader just gets sick of it.

"Hey Wild, can you do me a favor really quick"

Wild has never moved faster in his entire life, fuck dinner he's getting laid.

Wild's not quiet, he's not muffling his moans out of embarrassment like Hyrule would, he's probably fucking amplifying them. He wants everyone to know just how good he feels, his hole stretching around Reader's cock as he swallows them in greedily.

Wild's flexible, do with that what you will.

I can't even say Sage is punching the air, that man is beyond pissed that Wild, that failure, managed to be blessed with Reader's body and he didn't. No one will know peace, sorry. Reader take one for the team and just do it.

I think that everyone is sleeping on Calamity though, that's my baby, full set of uncomfortable armour and all.

He would seek reader out a bit more, not being able to properly get used to his new form, even if it was only temporary. He may not tell them the particular problem, but reader can see that he's a bit troubled and needs a bit more care than usual. Does Cal use this to his advantage? Who knows, he doesn't say.

Maybe he and reader sleep in the same bedroll (or room if you want privacy), their forms pressed up against eachother. Cal buries his face into their shoulder as Reader's hands trace across his body, humming a bit or quietly talking to calm him down. Only, it has the opposite effect and it's only riling him up.

It's taking a bit long, so all of this to say: Cal whimpers.

No bc Anon thank you for bringing this back I need to talk about this.

Add in all your two cents because I would also become the biggest whore.

Now, Courage and Koridai.

These two are the worst. Not only are they, loudly might I add, guessing the tip color, no, their adding details.

"I bet they have the nicest curve."

"Veiny for sure."

"I'm sure I can't even wrap my hand around it!" Shit like that. They're putting their whole bussies into it. Hyrule who? Nah, they're tryna figure out how many inches.

When it comes to Courage and Koridai, I also imagine them a duo bc, everyone else has been there much longer and...let's be honest. Those two are just so cringe they need to entertain each other when Reader simply needs a break. And while everyone is probably on the down low tryna get laid, these two's first priority is dick first, then we'll see what happens.

They're so clunky with it it. "I'm not great at holding conversations, so lemme hold your dick instead :D".

Reader is just O-O.

They for sure get smacked like every time their mouth opens bc everyone just knows something stupid is gonna come out of it. They don't even need to wait to know.

I imagine them bold enough to wait until their alone. Just straight up stripping whenever they feel like it. Like oh, Reader is talking to Twilight? Shirts coming off. Sitting with Legend? Pants are gone. Playing a card game with Four and Time? They are all but throwing themselves into Reader, in nothing but underwear.

Honestly, Reader whose so done with everyone's shit is my jam. Especially one that just goes to Hyrule and is like 'wanna fuck?'. Fairy boy is all over it. He would be such a pretty girl too. I just know it. And I know you said Reader is smug, but picture if you will, Reader who is just blank faced while Hyrule is on cloud fucking nine. He's sticking right next to Reader, where they can't touch him. He's not even asking, he's just in your bedroll waiting for you. He's following you everywhere. congrats Reader, you just got yourself a new shadow!

Should the pair manage to wear reader down, it's probably when their separated from the rest of the chain. It's a slow process, going down as slow as possible while Reader is possibly reader or sum, only to gasp and grab his hair because suddenly his mouth his hovering over their new dick.

They all eat dick the same way they eat pussy. For sure. If they're not suffocating just a bit, they're not doing it right. Koridai is practically cumming the second he gets a taste. Air? Haven't heard of it. Just dick. :).

And with Courage capturing their lips and silencing any protests? Reader stands no chance.

And your foolish to thing courage isn't down there the second Koridai is lettin gup, licking his lips while Reader's still reeling. Like you said, he has to prove he's the best.

Now, Sage. My lovely sage. I'm always here to give my mans some love. <3

Because I have favorites and one of them is him lmao

He's their new guard dog even with this new form. Now, as we said prior, Sage is good at getting pity. So not only does he have gloom, but now he has this whole new thing going on and he has no idea how to work around it.

The second Reader even mentions Wild, Sage is whipping around like 'excuse tf outta you?' And should Wild get to Reader first, Sage is L I V I D. Bc now he has to feed the other fuck heads and he's stuck listening to that tick have the time of his life.

In fact, he's probably thinking of all the ways he can be better. He would do anything Reader Asks. And since Wild is so flexible, so is Sage.

Reader is taking one for the team no matter what man bc Sage is a menace to the group. The biggest brat when he doesn't get his way. So, c'mon Reader, just let him suck you off as a treat. :)

NOW CAL MY BABY BOY-

He is another one who's using the pity card. He's pouting and giving puppy dog eyes because 'his armor doesn't fit right anymore :(' and 'how does this body part even work??? :('

He's fidgeting with his outfit constantly, making it obvious that he's uncomfortable, but it's all just a rouse to get Reader closer. To get them right there where he needs them. He and Hyrule are throwing fucking hands to sleep in your bedroll with you even though Wild and Sage have already done so.

Cal is for sure letting Reader explore his new body for him. Explaining why this feels so good or why that will eventually turn into something good. Cal is giving himself so whole-heartedly just to get a taste of that dick as well.

Because yes. Cal Whimpers because Cal is a bottom.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. :D

#cinder rambles #Cal is a bottom #spread the word #genderbent reader

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gil-shalossssss · 1 year

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And now I shall discuss multilingual cussing. I am going to focus on Reyna, Leo, Nico, and Hazel. Frank is bilingual but he doesn't cuss.

Reyna left Puerto Rico when she was ten, so she probably didn't know many cuss words, if any. Her Spanish curse vocabulary probably stopped there since I imagine Circe's resort spoke primarily English and/or Anchient Greek. She may have learned some Anchient Greek curses there as well as English ones. I belive she uses some Latin curses in the books, so either those are instinctive or she picked them up from her fellow soldiers. Probably both. In conclusion, Reyna can curse in English and Latin, and also possibly Spanish and Anchient Greek.

Nico was six or seven when he left Italy in the forties, so I can't imagine he knows any Italian curse words. Even then, he probably wouldn't have picked up any until he emerged from the Lotus Hotel because he was a child and you didn't curse around children if you could help it, so if he heard any they were never repeated often enough for him to learn them until he was thrust into modern day cussland. However, he also probably picked up some Anchient Greek and Latin curses from the camps. Also we hear him curse in Anchient Greek and English.

Leo grew up with Spanish and English as equals and was never forced out of his Spanish-speaking environment, so he can curse fluently in both languages. He may have picked up some curse words from Camp Half-Blood and the Romans he hung out with, but I imagine it's primarily English and Spanish. He canonically curses, but most of the time it doesnt specify in which language.

Hazel was also a forties child, and even though she doesn't cuss much in the books, we know she can because of that sentence concerning schist. It seems that she prefers placeholders, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have an arsenal of curse words. We know she knows some English curse words and might know some French. Also probably Latin, because even if it's not instinctive these children are soldiers and soldiers cuss a LOT. (Don't attack me about stereotypes, I know this for a fact.) So anyway, for Hazel we have English, Latin, and possibly French.

The reason I think Hazel would know curse words in the forties but Nico wouldn't is because even though they both live in large cities (New Orleans and Washington, D.C.) Nico's family probably would have moved to an already-established Italian community with other Italian people who just wanted to escape the War and go on living as they had in Italy. That doesn't necessarily mean anything in terms of what kinds of people are there, but it does lend to the probability that most of them are Catholic and had enough money to get them across the ocean in the first place (not allowing for stowaways), so they're probably proper people who would never cuss around children. Hazel, on the other hand, is the daughter of a voodoo queen whose clients were basically everybody. Rich people, poor people, scallywags, respectable people, people who didn't fit into any particular category at all. The point of all these words is to say that prior to the Lotus Hotel, Nico led a relatively sheltered life and Hazel lived where all the walks of life converged.

So this has been my incredibly long analysis of what language these people cuss in. Yes, it is something I think about for my own characters and I believe it is worth knowing.

#hoo #pjo #riordanverse #percy jackon and the olympians #nico pjo #nico di angelo #nico #leo valdez #leo pjo #reyna ramirez arellano #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna arellano #reyna pjo #hazel levesque #hazel pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo headcanon #language #multilingual cussing

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little-diable · 2 years

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Silent Whispers - Preacher!Chris Evans (smut)

What better way to break through my writers block than write a preacher imagine. Please reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: (Y/n) is spending her last few weeks of her teaching at a summer camp, about to become a preacher herself, she can't help but give into Preacher Evans advances, the man she had known for years on end.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, blowjob, smut in a church, degrading, choking with a rosary, religious connotations, basically just pwp

Pairing: Preacher!Chris Evans x preacher!fem!reader (2.1k words)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Shh, gotta be quiet for me, doll, can you do that?” His big hand covered her mouth, bright eyes focused on her dilated pupils. (Y/n) could only nod her head, trying not to let her moan pass her lips.

Preacher Evans had her pressed against the wall of the shed, desperate for some time alone with the girl that drove him crazy. His lips found her neck as his fingers worked on her shorts, making room for his hand to cup her heat.

She was soaked, arousal kept staining her panties as if she had never been touched before, not used to the fire his touch elicited, not used to the goosebumps covering her skin. He made her feel it all; some may call it a divine dispensation, others may use the devil's name for the sinful things they are doing; and yet, neither (y/n) nor preacher Evans seemed to care.

“My pretty darling, so ready for me, god, I can’t wait to stuff you full with my cock.” Her moan clawed through her like the cry that had bled from Mary’s lips as she had found her son being nailed to the cross. (Y/n) was turned around, front pressed against the wall with her legs spread and wrists linked together on her back. One of his hands kept her hands in place, the other brushed through her slit, fingers dancing through her arousal-covered folds.

It was sinful; they’d burn in hell for doing this, and yet, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel that rush of adrenaline pump through her veins. As if the devil himself was guiding her to Sheol, and she was ready to take every step into the darkness, if it meant being with her preacher.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He sank into her with a moan rumbling through him. It wasn’t the first time Chris was fucking her, wasn’t the first time he forced his cock into her tightness, and yet it felt more heavenly than his mere words could describe. Chris was sure that the archangels were averting their gazes, not wanting to watch the preacher blemish his student, and yet he didn’t find it in himself to care.

His body met hers with every ferocious thrust, forcing her walls apart without any mercy lingering in his system. Both were desperate for their high to roll upon them like the waves Moses has parted, allowing them to rest in peace.

“Shit, right there, don’t stop.” (Y/n)’s words bubbled out of her, she couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t think about the words she wanted to speak, all her mind was focusing on was the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of her. Chris' fingers found her clit, rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves to add more friction, very well knowing how to touch his favourite student.

“Can feel you clenching around me, fuck, you’re something else, doll.” Chris' pace began to falter as her walls clamped down around his cock, begging him to push her into the soaring waves of her orgasm. She came with his name rolling off her tongue, filling the hot afternoon air like a shot going off in the distance.

He followed her down the edge, pulled out of her to release himself onto her behind. Both were heavily panting, bodies letting go of the built up tension that had followed them around for the past hours.

Chris reached for a tissue, wordlessly he cleaned her before he pulled her against his chest, eyes wandering over her features, “My perfect girl. Go back, I’ll follow in a minute.”

It was dark out by the time (y/n) and the other preachers-to-be made their way to the small chapel located near the lake. No words were shared among the group, they were either focused on the upcoming mass or on the reminders of the past days. Young men and women had found their way to the summer camp, spending the last weeks of their training together before they’d start their work as preachers.

And Preacher Evans was right there to support them, to guide them and answer their questions. A call (y/n) had blindly followed, trusting the man she had known ever since she had turned sixteen, an oblivious girl that had crushed on her handsome preacher. Back then she hadn’t known where her path would lead her to, back then she hadn’t known that she’d once become a preacher herself, set on sharing her hometown church with Preacher Evans.

This summer their dynamic had changed; no longer was she the girl whose confession he’d take; no longer was she the girl that stared at him from afar, no, now she was the girl whose thighs he’d spread; the girl he’d ruin with every secret meet up.

“Welcome, come on in.” Preacher Evans greeted the group, holding open the door to the chapel like an angel allowing them to step into heaven. He had something ethereal to him, something so divine, (y/n) found herself convinced that he was a test, a test sent by the Almighty Father himself. A test she had miserably failed the second she had allowed Chris to touch her.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Chris started speaking his verses, words (y/n) could pay no attention to. Her thoughts began to wander as if the serpent that had lured Adam and Eve into their misery was speaking to her, forcing her thoughts to stray, focused on Chris and the sinful words he’d speak to her.

(Y/n) could still recall the first time he had touched her, how he had lured her into the darkness with his teasing words. And she had been blind, blind like Isaac had been with weak eyes.

“May the almighty God have mercy on us, forgive us our sins, and bring us to an everlasting life.” The group spoke in unison, muttering a silent “amen” that momentarily forced (y/n) out of her thoughts, trying to distract herself from the heat simmering inside of her. Even though Chris wasn’t touching her, he wasn’t even standing close, she felt as if his stare alone was burning holes into her skin.

Goosebumps rose on her forearms as her mind took her back to all those times he had rested between her thighs. His tongue had worked in wicked ways, spreading her folds with his fingers teasing her clit; his cock had ripped her walls apart, forcing himself deeper into her with every ferocious thrust; his lips had left behind marks on her throat, marks that had lingered for days on end.

“Tonight you shall rest, may you catch up on some sleep before we start our last week together. May the Lord be with you.” Chris’ eyes found hers, silently communicating with the girl that sat straighter than ever before, spine about to snap in half from the tension buzzing through her. (Y/n) waited till the others had left the church, eyes focused on the bible she was holding in her hands, knowing that the group wouldn’t question her stay.

“You were distracted.” His voice boomed through the chapel, louder than the screams of the mothers who have lost their children in the massacre of the innocents, louder than the sound of the waves clashing against Noah’s ark. She visibly tensed, eyes flickering from the bible to his frame, hoping that he’d give her time to ponder over his words.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) rose from her seat, she made her way towards him, coming to halt before the towering preacher. For a moment all Chris did was study her, eyes wandering over her frame, taking in every inch of her appearance.

“Kneel.” It was a simple command, a command her body followed blindly. Guided by the holy voice itself, her body was forced to do what she was told, no way out was offered to the young woman. He stared down on her like the Father himself, about to judge her for her sins, and yet Chris had something by far darker to him, so dark even the Father would doubt his motives. “Use your mouth.”

She parted her lips, eyes following the movements of his hands, undoing the buttons of his black trousers. His white clerical collar stared at her, his cross necklace moved with every twitch of his body, a dangerous mixture robbing the last lingering holy thoughts she had once been blessed with.

His hand found her scalp, holding her in place to push his cock between her lips. He was resting heavy on her tongue, allowing her to taste the drops of precum that bearded his tip, a taste she was all too used to by now. (Y/n) didn’t dare pull back, she let him use her, allowing the preacher to fuck her mouth as she kept her fingers interlaced behind her back.

“Fuck, I’ll never be able to let you go, such a perfect slut for her preacher.” She felt heat push through her, eyes fluttering shut to hold onto the praises he spoke, relishing in his closeness. The pull in her chest grew with every word he spoke, sticking to her like a second layer of skin.

Her moans vibrated through his body, making the man groan in pleasure. The corners of her mouth burned, and yet (y/n) didn’t think of pulling back, not wanting to ever break the moment. She’d stay on her knees for the man till her time on this earth would run out, would do whatever he’d ask her to - if it meant pleasing the preacher.

“You’ll swallow it all and then I want you to thank me for it like the good slut you are.” She tried to nod her head, glassy eyes found his as she moaned once again, waiting for him to let go. His cum filled her cheeks, sticking to her tongue as (y/n) greedily swallowed every drop, hoping - praying - that he’d reward her for it.

A moment of silence was offered to the two, a silence that could remind one of the silent tears the women had wept at Jesus’ grave, a silence so brooding as if the holy spirit was lingering in the chapel. A moment’s silence that was broken by the gasp rumbling through (y/n) as he forced her to her feet, pressed against the altar.

“Look at it,” he tilted her head back, hand placed around her throat to guide her movements. “He suffered so we could live, he suffered so I can claim you. You are mine, I owe you, every part of you.”

With his free hand he pushed her skirt up to her waist, groaning as he felt her bare cunt with his wandering fingers. She was soaked, once again begging for his touch without even having to use her words. (Y/n) was too focused on the cross staring down on them to pay attention to the rosary he pulled free, wrapping it around her throat to keep her close.

Her breath hitched in her chest, the pearls pressed into her skin, leaving marks as she slowly lost her grip on the air lingering in her lungs. And while she tried to keep on breathing, Chris pushed into her from behind, forcing her body closer to the altar. It was sick, almost devilish, what he was doing to her, and yet both couldn’t help but ache for more.

“You’re still so tight for me, fuck,” Chris panted his words against her ear, front pushed against her back to keep her close. Her whimpers filled the night, and yet Chris didn’t think about loosening his grasp on her. Tight like the sheet they had wrapped around Jesus’ martyred body, soaked through like the blood he had lost on the cross placed in the shadow of the Jerusalem sun.

(Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, allowing a few tears to drip down her chin like holy water dripping from one’s hands. She was close, and yet her body could only focus on the air she was desperate for, no longer properly breathing, but holding onto the last few moments she’d spent before passing out.

Chris felt her struggle against the rosary, forcing him to loosen the tight grasp, chuckling as he heard her deeply inhale. His pace was slowly faltering, pushed closer to his release with every passing moment, just like she was.

“Cum for me, let go.” (Y/n) didn’t dare protest, she let go with his name leaving her lips, tainted like a sinner’s mouth. She felt him imprint himself on her walls, leaving his stain with a moan clawing through him, freeing their demons into the night.

And all God did was look at them in abject apathy.

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

Use this link to join the taglist

#Chris Evans smut #little-diable priesst #Chris Evans imagine

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sillymonsterman · 1 year

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bianca is such a tragic character

-forced to be a caregiver to nico at 12, lead from place to place by people who don't care about them and forced out of their time without their knowledge and with no memory of anything before the lotus hotel

-gets an opportunity to live an eternal girlhood to replace the childhood she never had but can't take her brother along

-even then she only takes the oath after knowing nico will be safe, camp will take care of him better than she could (she's 12 nico needs adults), she gets a new family with no responsibilities and a promise that she can be happy and relax

-that new family is immediately put in danger, nico being only 10 doesn't understand her choice and resents her

-gets the responsibility of a quest put on her by zoe, who senses she is a powerful demi-god. While free of big sister duty she now has the fate of the world to worry about and she just found out about this stuff like days ago.

-even while questing she dies trying to get something she thinks would cheer nico up. all she wanted was a way to get through to him.

-since she died she never got to experience the sisterhood of the hunters, the maiden hood and childish joy of being a 12 year old girl. only got the friendships she made on the way to save the world.

-even after her death has to try to convince nico to let it go, not hold grudges. she is still his older sister and still guiding him, parenting him since he has no one else. even in death she doesn't escape her responsibilities

-also, since nico ran from camp he doesn't have the support and guidance she wanted him to get there.

i cant stop thinking about her confiding in Percy about how she couldn't handle being a big sister 24/7, imagine that weight of that + monsters on a 12 year old girl. then she dies like 2 chapters later.

#legally had to #pjo #percy jackson #bianca di angelo #nico di angelo

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tannabet · 1 year

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01 - Drabble 1

If someone had asked Nico that morning how much sugar he had consumed to make his overactive imagination roam so wildly, he might have replied that he had never tasted candy in his life, although it's not like Nico had anyone inquiring stuff regarding him unless it had to do with Bianca—or her sticking her nose in his business, as usual. For the most part, any other boy at the military school kept their distance from him ever since that one time Bianca had greeted Elizabeth Beneviento's face with her fis after the girl had sat on him a whole recess for not wanting to let her play with his collectible figurines. That's why, what he was seeing at that moment was something his unstoppable imagination would hardly have been able to conjure up on its own. He didn't even feel the need to pinch his arm to confirm that what he was seeing was actually happening. For real, halfway down the dirt road, lined by bushes and the refreshing scent of wet earth and strawberries, a boy in an orange shirt and worn out jeans came carefully down from the sky to stand in front of Bianca and him. He was different from the young centaur who had brought them all the way from Main, his demeanor more confident and less shaky; beginning from that steady gaze that didn't furrow once he noticed the undivided attention of the restless boy whose sister was holding firmly by the shoulders. "Hello!" greeted the flying boy, whose hair seemed to dance in the residual breeze from his landing. "Welcome to camp!" Bianca's voice rang over Nico's head, guarded, somewhat unsure. "Thank you, and you are...?" "Jason. My name is Jason Grace." Jason's eyes settled back on Nico after watching the girl for a moment. "And you're the di Angelo's, right?" "Yes!" Nico replied, ignoring his sister's feint to put him behind her. "Did you seriously just fly? Are you a demigod too? What's your attack power? Who's your divine parent?" "Oh, wow, breathe little buddy," Jason said, raising his hands in front of him, crouching down in front of Nico; not really necessary to go that far to make him feel comfortable, but the new camper found himself liking that level of attention. "That's too many questions, how about discussing them after we eat? Have you guys eaten anything yet?" From his place on the ground, he looked over at Bianca, who also seemed to relax slightly as she saw him position himself at a lower, less intimidating level. "No..." Exhaled the girl, pursing her lips. "Truth be told, we haven't eaten anything since last night." "Now that you mention it, my stomach hurts," Nico said, touching his belly and exchanging a glance with his sister. "What time do they serve lunch?" "Right now! That's why I came to get you. If you follow me to the pavilion, you can sit at the Hermes table with some of the other campers," he got back onto his feet, turning around and reaching with his hand towards them. Nico stared at it, tempted to take it, especially since this Jason kid seemed nicer than the other kids near Bianca's age he'd met before. This boy took notice of him, spoke directly to him and not over his head as if he wasn't there, like many other grow ups tended to do. It also didn't escape Nico's notice that his smile seemed to be able to outshine the sun itself with how bright and wide it was. Feeling his face heat up, Nico went and tried to clasp the offered hand, but Bianca reached first, grabbing Nico with her other hand. Had it not been for the strong grip on his wrist, Nico would have complained, but then he felt the force in which she hold him at a safe distance and knew his sister only acted like that when she got extremely nervous. Jason was startled to see the wary girl taking his hand, but he smiled all the same, glad to see that despite how tense she seemed, it didn't look like she would make a run for it in the opposite direction, her brother in toe. "All right, let's go."

I can't stop thinking about Minuiko's Jason!SonOfZeus meeting little Nico and Bianca, making this a thing where the di Angelos were taken to camp by Grover, and Bianca not joining the hunters from the get go (maybe, who knows). I don't have any idea so far as to how even take this story, but I will probably publish these stuff from time to time because I am. A. Mess.

#jasico #jason son of zeus #minuiko's art #inspiring as always #nico crushing on jason before even knowing what crushing is #percy is not a greek in this au #i'm not sure about the others tho #tannawrites

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estrellamorningstar · 3 months

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Cut Loose [Part 13]

Warning: Smut, NSFW, 18+

Summary: Celeste has to make a decision between The Mastermind or Carlos

Word Count: 2109

Celeste finally makes it to the shower. Her mind is filled with so many thoughts she already knows she will have a hard time falling asleep. After the shower she lies down and waits for sleep to come, but just as she predicted it's not happening. She decides to go for a walk to clear her mind and to get rid of any residue of the adrenaline rush that Sunshine somehow didn't manage to wipe away completely.

The walk is pleasant. Celeste walks along her usual path, listening to the birds and enjoying the gentle warmth of the late morning sun. She tries to gather her thoughts together so they're not just a mix of Carlos and Wesker. She already knows that she's playing with fire when it comes to Wesker, but he has made her feel like she could achieve something. It certainly won't be exactly how she imagines it, but who in their right mind would say no to the most efficient Killer in the Trials? And that cursed kiss. He bought her with that kiss.

Her mind brings her back to Midwich; the disgusting wall and horrible noises, adrenaline rushing through her veins and the overwhelming presence of her teacher. She holds her breath as she remembers the force of the tentacle on her throat, her painful, desperate attempt to breathe as Wesker watched her come to terms with death right in front of her and then all of that fear washed away with one kiss, making her feel more alive than she has ever felt. Her train of thought gets interrupted by quick footsteps behind her.

''Can we talk, please?'' Celeste turns towards the voice and sees Rebecca following her. She looks nervous, but from the few Trials Celeste has spent with her Celeste knows that she is someone that Killers don't take lightly. Celeste had witnessed Trickster get frustrated by Rebecca's escape antics, which was amusing, but cost Celeste her Trial because she couldn't stop watching. Celeste stops in her tracks and waits for Rebecca to catch up.

''I'm just going to get to the point,'' Rebecca's expression is serious, but Celeste thinks that she looks so angelic that even being delivered the worst news in the world wouldn't hurt as much. Celeste knows that this is either about Carlos or Wesker. It seems like the whole house Carlos stays in have had something to do with each other in the past and they are always looking out for each other.

''Don't let Wesker manipulate you,'' Celeste's heart feels like it is being strangled, a small rage builds in her chest, why can't anybody leave her to make her own decisions? Rebecca notices the change in Celeste's posture and her features soften. ''There are six of us here who can tell you how demented he is.''

''I don't know what you're talking about.''

''Celeste... Whatever you think you will get out of this, you won't. Albert Wesker doesn't give people anything. He uses them to get what he needs and then he discards them,'' Celeste knows that what Rebecca's saying is true, but her tired mind goes back to the moment Wesker kissed her. She bites her lip as if trying to recreate the moment, his presence alone made her whole being addicted to him. ''People in power do not share power.''

''I'm here to get through the Trials, Rebecca. Whatever happens outside of the Trials is irrelevant,'' Celeste can hear her voice get high and defensive, her cheeks flush in frustration.

''You will hurt everybody in the camp. When he starts asking you to throw Trials in favor of his little henchmen, what then?'' She pauses and watches Celeste with piercing eyes for a moment. The silence is deafening. ''I tried to talk to Carlos, but he isn't listening to me, he always sees good in people. You have to make a decision, Celeste, and there is only one correct answer.''

''What exactly am I choosing, Rebecca? I don't know what you think is going on, but all Wesker is doing is training me. I have not been doing well, I barely have Bloodpoints to get better gear with. I need all the help... any help I can get.''

''But at what cost?'' Rebecca dismisses Celeste with a wave of her hand and turns to walk away. She stops in her tracks and turns back to look at Celeste: ''Just do the right thing with Carlos, he's a good person, too good sometimes.''

Celeste leans against a tree and watches Rebecca leave. The moment Rebecca disappears out of sight she sits down and looks up at the sky. She had already made the decision to talk to Carlos after leaving the training session, but Rebecca is right, Carlos is a good person and sleeping with his enemy, figuratively speaking, is a shitty thing to do.

**********************************************************

After trying to come up with a speech in her head Celeste finally gives up and makes her way to the house Carlos stays in and slowly opens the door, hoping to make it to his room before anyone else notices, but just as she walks through the kitchen area she gets greeted by Leon, who's sitting at the counter, drinking something out of a ridiculously oversized mug. He nods at her hello, but remains as serious as always. She has never seen him smile apart from a polite smile every now and then, but she can imagine that a real smile on that man would break many hearts around the camp.

''Is Carlos in his room?'' Celeste asks as she approaches him. Leon shakes his head and pulls a bar seat out for her to sit on.

''He went somewhere with Jill, but they should be back soon,'' he stands up and pours a coffee for her which Celeste is awfully grateful for.

''They're all going crazy over Wesker, you know?'' Leon watches Celeste in the same intense, interrogating way that Rebecca was doing, but she feels like he's just curious about how she's feeling and not how she will react to Wesker's name. ''They aren't able to let go of the past, but... it's not your past.''

''I joined this thing and nobody explained anything to me when I arrived. I'm just trying to get through it,'' Celeste confesses. She had promised herself to not be vulnerable in front of people, but lack of sleep removes all the filters she has been working hard on keeping up. Leon looks confused as she says that.

''What do you mean you ''joined this thing''? It was your choice?''

''Well... yeah,'' she looks at him not quite sure why he's confused.

''The rest of us are here against our will. Who brought you here?'' Leon looks more awake than he did when she saw him first, he even seems to have leaned in closer to her, as if trying to see if she's lying.

Celeste thinks back to the Facebook click bait that she kept seeing over and over and eventually clicked on. It led her to a website that promised her a life of luxury if only she would make it through a year of an interactive simulation experiment.

''The Fog... I think the company was called,'' Celeste remembers the name on top of each of the page she had to fill out. Leon's about to ask her something, but his eyes focus on something behind Celeste. His expression changes to a soft one, but then his eyes drop and Celeste can tell that his gritting his teeth.

''Sorry, Celeste, I will talk to you later, '' he grabs his jacket off the seat next to him, Celeste turns her head to see who he was looking at. Ada and Jake have just entered the room. Leon walks past them without saying a word. Judging by Leon's body language Jake narrowly avoided getting a punch to the face, though Celeste is sure that if Jake had said a single word to him he wouldn't be so lucky.

Celeste wonders if Ada ever takes that red dress off, she hasn't seen her wearing anything else. Celeste smiles awkwardly at them. Ada seems to be annoyed about the way Leon left. They haven't been on good terms since Leon found out that Ada and Jake have been seeing each other behind his back. Although Celeste isn't quite sure what their relationship was like before that because since Celeste has known Ada she never struck her as the relationship type.

'''Cielo,'' Celeste had been so caught up in Leon/Ada drama she didn't hear the door open. Carlos approaches Celeste and, before she can stop him, kisses her. Carlos looks at her questioningly when she doesn't return the kiss.

''Carlos, we need to talk,'' Celeste says softly when she notices Jill, Ada and Jake watching them in deafening silence. Carlos nods at her, disappointment washing over his face. Celeste avoids making eye-contact with anybody and follows Carlos to his room. He motions for Celeste to sit down on the sofa and sits in front of her on the coffee table with crossed arms.

''Did Rebecca speak to you?'' Carlos looks concerned. Celeste nods, but wonders what exactly Rebecca has told him, she did say to Celeste that Carlos never listens to her.

''She told me to be careful with Wesker. Everybody is telling me to be careful with Wesker,'' Carlos's jaw visibly clenches at the first mention of Wesker. ''I had a training session with him yesterday when you were in The Trial.''

''Training session? What... what are you talking about?''

''I met up with Wesker in the simulation,'' Celeste should have really prepared herself for this conversation, she is trying to pick her words carefully, ''He thinks my past is plain enough for me to learn to do the Trials well.''

''And you trust a Killer to teach you how to do it?'' The disbelief in Carlos's voice reflects in his eyes. ''Celeste, he's just toying with you. He will get bored of you once you're bent to his will and he gets bored of you.''

''I know what I'm getting myself into...''

''Do you though?'' Carlos hasn't raised his voice, but he seems to be in disbelief of what he's hearing. ''Wesker doesn't care for people he can't get something out of. Once he's done with you...''

''...he will discard me, yeah I heard that already.'' Celeste knows that he's right. But she is now realizing that she wants to find out by herself. ''I want to get through this, Carlos. Wesker is the key for me to get good fast. What's the worst that can happen?''

Carlos's expression changes to that of pure pity. He kneels in front of Celeste and places his hands on either side of her face.

''I won't stop you, Cielo, but I'm here for you,'' the way Carlos is looking at Celeste makes her heart feel strangled in her chest. She was expecting him to get angry, to throw her out, she did not expect him to get soft with her. It makes it that much harder for her to muster the right words for what she's about to say.

''I think it's best if we don't see each other, Carlos,'' Celeste hears the words that come out of her mouth and hates how much it sounds like a teenage breakup, nonetheless, a tear forms in the corner of her eye. She's been holding tears back for a long time, but Rebecca was right, this man in front of her is good to a fault. ''What I mean is... I need to focus on The Trials, I don't have the energy for anything else right now.''

''Cielo...'' Carlos is searching her eyes for an answer, for an explanation, Celeste can tell that there's a debate going on behind those big brown eyes of his. ''I will be here when Wesker's done with you. Just... don't let him turn you cold... you're the only person around here who doesn't see the world for the shitshow that it really is. We need more people like you.''

Carlos wipes a tear running from her cheek and stands up. They walk to the door and just before he opens the door he turns to Celeste. His hands envelop her face once more and he kisses her like he hadn't kissed her before. The words that got lost in Carlos's thoughts before are now expressed through the kiss. Celeste stands on her tip toes, indulging herself one last time. He lets go of her face and gives her an unconvincing smile: ''Something to remember me by, Cielo.''

#fanfic #dead by daylight #lemon #smut #albert wesker #the mastermind #carlos oliveira

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