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lila-went-missing · 2 months

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I saw you wanted req's for Clarisse !! and I had a cute (well I thought it was cute) Hear me out !! You're Percy's older sister but you've been at camp for a few years so you and Clarisse have had more time to talk and get closer, sooo coincidentally once Percy came and after he and Clarisse had their fall out she finalized the relationship (not to be petty but just to get under his skin a little bit.. but also she didn't wanna do something to Percy and have you upset with her and ruin the progress y'all made.) But !! Percy only found out when you guys were eating at your table and Clarisse came by and didn't say anything to him, she kissed you but as she was walking away she muttered a half-assed apology to Percy. Bro's dumbfounded but you break the news to him, and as the loving brother he is and the fact you and Clarisse have known each other it's only fair he happy for you !! (You keep him safe from her.) SORRYYY this is so long but Clarisse makes me giggle, I hope you're having an amazing day !

I've been so excited to write this but I'm also such a procrastinator so sorry if this took a long time to come out. You're literally so sweet I hope you have an amazing day.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds, it gets slightly suggestive once but nothing happens, cursing i think, I'm not going to lie to you this sucks especially the ending.

This took forever because I'm the medically expensive one in the family and I've been in and out of doctors offices for over a month now. This isn't proofread, I trust grammarly and move on. I love you all so much, enjoy my lovelies.

When the Waves Come In

Being a forbidden kid was anything but easy. Monsters could smell you more than others. The gods hated you. Trouble and tragedy seemed to track you down wherever you went, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The only perks? Having a cabin to yourself and being slightly more powerful than other demigods. If you were being honest, that wasn't really a fair trade.

Not to mention, the other demigods at Camp Half-Blood either hated or praised you. There was no in between. You were claimed only seven months after arriving at camp, this made a lot of unclaimed kids unhappy with you. Like it was your fault that Poseidon was kind of proud of you once? It's not like he's bothered to reach out since then.

Over the last three years of living at camp, you've made some decent friends. You got along pretty well with most of the Hephaestus kids, Beckendorf immediately taking a liking to you for your stubbornness. The Apollo kids liked you, they even let you help lead archery classes. But there was one person that you were closer with than anyone else. Clarisse. Your Clarisse.

You weren't friends. You were so much more than that. But at the same time, you weren't quite together either. It was very complicated. However, there was one thing you were both certain of, you like being near each other, and hated being separated. Oftentimes, she would sit at your table during meals, Chiron choosing to turn a blind eye. You would sneak her dessert every time she lost her privileges. You were her girl, that much, everyone knew.

When a new kid by the name Percy Jackson showed up at camp, you didn't think much of it. New kids arrived all the time, 90% of them never being claimed and getting left to rot by their godly parents in the Hermes cabin. It was sad, but it was the truth. You learned to live with it.

You assumed the same would happen to him, until you saw it. The horn that once belonged to the Minotaur. Grover claimed he had killed it with its own horn. Everyone believed it except Clarisse. You wanted to not believe it, but how else would he have the horn?

Of course, Clarisse being Clarisse, she had to prove that he was a fraud. The first time she did this, she was blasted by water into a wall, effectively shattering a mirror with the impact. She came to you, of course, a bruise forming over her stomach and chest. You were honestly surprised that she didn’t some internal bleeding deal going on.

“I just want him to own up to being a liar!” She ranted. “Is that too much to ask? I mean, he’s 12, he’s like 4’11, he has no muscle what so ever! How am I expected to believe that he, of all people, killed the Minotaur?” She paced back and forth over the floor of your cabin for what felt like an eternity.

“I mean, this kid shows up out of literally no where, and is getting all the glory in the world. Is everyone here really that blind? There’s no way he managed to actually kill it, yet he’s getting all the praise? How does that add up?”

You stood from your place on your bed, walking towards her and placing your hands on her shoulders. Your hands squeeze gently, trying to ground her.

“Breathe,” you whisper, “I know it sounds highly unlikely. I know you’re pissed, you have every right to be.” Honestly, if the only way you could ever get your father’s attention was through glory and winning fights, even then, seldom getting any acknowledgement whatsoever. You have to admit, you’d be pretty pissed in this situation too. I mean the only thing you could do to get anything, even an admittance that you exist, is immediately taken over by this random kid no one’s heard of? Yeah, she’s rightfully pissed.

“But I need you to breathe before you have a nervous breakdown, honey.” Your hands rub up and down her arms, feeling her muscles slowly relax.

“I wouldn’t have had a nervous breakdown.” She mutters.

“I know, but I might’ve.” Knowing her, the way she is behind closed doors, she most definitely would have. But you let her believe that she would be okay.

“It’s just not fair you know? He hasn’t done anything. Even if he did kill the Minotaur, there’s no way he wasn’t running purely on adrenaline and rage. He wouldn’t be able to do that again if he tried. He’s getting all of this praise, and for what? Existing? Being, not even a man, a boy?” Her voice is much much quieter this time, barely making it to a whisper. If it wasn’t for your proximity you probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I know, I know, love.” You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her. “Just think, in a week or two, people will probably forget all about it. He’ll go back to being a regular 12 year old, nothing special.” Realistically, you know that sounds kind of bad, but what else are you supposed to say to her.

There was a part of you, no matter how small that part may be, that knew that wasn’t going to happen. Most demigods aren’t able to do something like that and live through it. But you knew he wasn’t like most demigods.

You knew he would get claimed, soon, most likely. From the moment you laid eyes on him it’s like you could feel it. What happened in the bathrooms only confirmed your suspicions. While you didn’t say anything to the girl in front of you, you knew who he was.

He was another forbidden kid. Not just a forbidden kid though, your brother. A son of Poseidon.

***

Capture the flag was the next day. From the moment you woke up you could feel the energy surging through the air. This was one of the most anticipated events of the summer. The only thing you really won was a party and bragging rights. I guess to camp full of the competitive people you’d ever meet, that was all you needed.

It was definitely all Clarisse needed. She loved to win and hated to lose, a trait she inherited from her father. And she’d be dammed if she was going lose another game of Capture the Flag.

That’s why you’re so confused when she tells you that she’s changing the plan. She never changes the plan, finding solace in a good strategy.

You understood more when she explained what she was doing. Revenge on the new kid for blasting her with toilet water. When you put it like that, it sounds logical. But knowing Clarisse, and knowing what you know, you can’t just go along with it.

“Clar, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” You both paced around each other in your cabin, similar to last night.

“Are you seriously telling me that what he did was okay?” Her voice raises with every word.

“No! I just- I have a bad feeling! I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“I won’t! I can handle myself, you know this!”

“I know! But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you!” Your heart beats out of your chest with every step you take towards each other.

“I can’t believe this! You really don’t think I can do this!” Before you can even formulate a response, she’s grabbing her stuff and walking out the door.

You follow her of course, yelling her name, but it’s no use. She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t even pause in her steps. You watch her disappear behind the door of cabin five.

The door to cabin three shuts as you slide down it. Your head hits the wood as you lean back, sure to give you a headache later. You can’t find it in yourself to care though. A tear slips down your cheek. Then another. Then another.

You know it’s a bad idea. She will go after revenge. And she will get hurt. But you also know that there’s literally nothing you can say to her. You want to, but it’ll only make things worse. That's the thing about Clarisse, when she gets her mind set on something, there's no changing her mind. All you can do is patch her up afterwards.

The red team has kept the flag near the water ever since you were claimed. They made sure that you were never far from it, blasting anyone in the face if they got too close for comfort. You weren't going to lie, it was potentially one of your favorite things to do.

So, as per usual, you were patrolling the edge of the water. No one had really gotten close enough, which was very disappointing. Until the new kid ran out of the woods and immediately tripped and fell on his face. Your whole body straightens immediately, muscles tensing. You pull out your sword and move towards him. He probably doesn't want a fight but it's better safe than sorry.

He had a few cuts littering his arms and cheeks. His clothes were dirty and he was now covered in wet pebbles. You could tell that he was disoriented and panicked. You were about to approach him when one of your sort of girlfriend's brothers ran out of the woods after him. Miles. One of her sisters followed suit, Trinity, you think her name was. Dear Hades they're actually going through with it.

Clarisse comes barreling out of the woods after them. Before you can even think about jumping in the sound of metal on metal fills your ears. Swords and shields clash. A spear jabbed at his chest. Her spear. You wanted to get between them, help him, protect him. Even if he didn't know it yet, he was.

But you couldn't. Everything moved so fast you didn't have time to react before they were all rolling over the ground. The water fed off of your emotions, grabbing her siblings and ripping them away from the fight. But it was too late. You saw the spark come from in between them. You heard the wood snap. Half of the spear was in her hands, the other half in his as his body rolled with the momentum.

It felt like time froze for those few seconds. The water was still. The wind stopped blowing, birds stopped chirping. The air around you seemed to disappear. You couldn't breathe. All noises cut out as her guttural scream ripped through the air, lasting for what felt like an eternity.

She ran forward, grabbing the front of his armor and jerking him forward. The conch blew, the blue team ran across the river carrying the flag. She ran off into the woods, it didn't take long for you to follow behind her, grabbing the pieces of the spear as you went.

Before you fully made it away, you saw the trident above his head. That's the moment you realized that you should've placed bets. You would've made bank, but that's not really your concern right now.

You find her in her cabin, facing away from the door, sitting on the edge of her bed. If you look close enough you can see the way her shoulders shake. You place the pieces of her spear on a table near her bed before kneeling behind her. Your arms wrap around her front, pulling her in.

Her back rests against your front, her head tucking back into your neck. You feel the way her shoulders tremble and shake in your gentle hold. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. A few tears slip down your cheeks that you don't mention. You don't push her. It's very rare she lets anything like this happen. She feels like showing these kinds of emotions would make her weak. It didn't matter how many times you assured her otherwise. Sometimes you can't change a person's thoughts when they're the only thing that person has ever known.

After what feels like forever, she speaks. Her voice comes out shaky. It's the kind of soft you only hear late in the night after sneaking into her cabin.

"That spear- it was the only-." A sob escapes her throat and you can feel the way it moves through her whole body, consuming her completely.

"I know honey.." You whisper in her ear. Your arms subconsciously tighten around her muscular frame.

"It was the only proof that he could ever love me." You swear you can feel your heart shatter. You've never liked her dad, but even so, you knew how much that spear meant to her. Her fathers traits were very prominent in her from the moment she was born. Her anger issues kept her in trouble, never getting help. Never being accepted. Her father was the only hope she would ever have until she met you. But even then she was so terrified of losing you...

"It'll be okay.. I promise." Your words a hidden promise of protection.

You're not sure what happens that night but you know something changes. Her arms wrapped around you a little tighter. Her breaths came a little deeper, more relaxed. Your finger over more of her scars, tracing them with the delicacy that was only ever seen in the hands of the greatest artists. When you thought about it though, she was the only work of her art that would ever be worthy of such care.

When you wake the light hits the two of you in a new way. As if Apollo made Helios shine it on the two of you alone so he could write the greatest love hymns that would ever be seen by mankind.

Her siblings don't question your presence. They never do. Why would they when it's so rare the children of Ares are able to find such peace. So rare they can find such a level of acceptance within another person.

For a while you sit there and watch the golden light dance across her bronze skin. The way it shines around her face, the face you've kissed so many times. The face you long to kiss right now. You don't sneak out this morning, instead staying curled into her side. The beating of her heart threatening to lull you back into a peaceful slumber.

Then the conch blows for breakfast, causing her to stir. Her eyes flutter open, turning into pools of golden honey as the light swims in the sweet waters. A small smile creeps onto her lips as her eyes meet yours.

"Hi." You whisper. Your hand strokes over her cheek.

"Hi, baby." Her voice is as soft as the way she looks at you. Before you know it she's leaning forward and placing her lips on yours. It's the first time but it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... right. Something about it is so perfect. The way your lips fit together like long lost pieces of a puzzle.

"What was that for?" Your lips remain parted when you pull away. "I just, wanted to kiss you." She mutters in reply. A blush covers the expanse of her cheeks. You never thought you'd see her so flustered. "Can you do it again? Kiss me again?" She smiles and nods at your words before leaning in and pressing her lips back against yours.

They're soft and warm as they slide against yours. It feels like coming home after a long day of training. Your favorite person right in front of you with open arms.

When she pulls away, she's smiling wider than you've ever seen her. "I really should have done that a lot sooner." You can't help but laugh at her words. "I've only been waiting for four years!"

"Why don't we make up for that?" She leans forward, resting her hand on her waist and pulling your body against hers. A chuckle leaves your throat.

"Maybe later, right now, I really want breakfast." You peck her lips once more before rolling out of bed. "Come on!"

It's not long before you're both dressed and making your way to the dining pavilion. As much as you would like to sit with her, she's already on thin ice with Chiron. You take your time getting your food and burning it, not wanting to be separated until absolutely necessary. Eventually though, you have to part ways and join your newly-claimed brother at the Poseidon table.

"I'm surprised you're not more banged up if I'm being honest." You say as you take your seat. There's not a single scratch on him.

"Annabeth kind of shoved me into the water, next thing I know everything is healed." He answers, you can tell he's nervous knowing your connection with Clarisse.

"Perks of being Poseidon's kid, that and our cabin is a lot less crowded." He laughs lightly at your words.

"You're telling me! It's nice not sleeping on the floor." The both of you go quiet for a while, eating in comfortable silence. The breeze is cool against your skin, a nice reminder of the weather barrier. When you look up, Percy is looking behind you with pure fear in his eyes. You expect to be greeted by a monster when you turn, instead you're greeted by your girlfriend.

You can't help but chuckle at the look on Percy's face. You really can't help but laugh at his face when she leans down and presses a kiss against your cheek. "I'll see in training later, right babe?"

"Wouldn't miss it." You kiss her jaw before she turns and jogs off towards the arena.

"She- you-" He looks utterly dumbfounded as what he just witnessed. "What just happened?"

"She's my girlfriend, Percy."

His mouth drops open with the most surprised look you've ever seen. "Oh."

"Is that an issue?" You don't really care if it is, but you ask anyway. "No, no I just, didn't take her as the type to really date anyone." He answers.

"Most people don't, I'll do my best to keep her from pulverizing you." A laugh escapes you before you take your leave.

Life didn't seem too bad.You had a new brother, you were dating the girl you'd been in love with for years. You might even be able to convince her to leave him alone. You'll get her spear fixed as a surprise birthday gift.

You can feel everyone's surprised eyes on you as you walk out. There's no doubt the entire camp knows by now, and there's no doubt that a billion rumors will be floating around by dinner time. But there's a part of that just, can't find it in you to care. How can you when you have everything you've wanted right there in front of you.

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 5 months

Text

Dancing Lights

Wolf!Wolffe x Fem!Reader

Summary: During a mission on a frigid planet, you get lost in a blizzard and Wolffe becomes desperate to find you before you freeze to death. Once he does, he’s forced to reveal a secret part of himself in order to protect you from a territorial pack of wolves.

Pairing: Wolf!Wolffe x Fem!Reader

Characters: Wolffe, Plo Koon

Tags & Warnings: 18+, implied/referenced nudity with no descriptions, established relationship, hurt/comfort, light angst, suggestive themes, implied sexual content, violence, blood, injuries, reader doesn’t know she’s pregnant, protective!wolffe, snowed in, abandoned cabin, cuddling for warmth, Brother Bear/Balto type spiritual references, happy ending

Word Count: 12.7k

Author's Note: The terms "alpha" and "mate" are used in one part of the fic for a very specific purpose as a language marker (there are NO sexual, kink, or ABO implications). There’s also a distinctive speech pattern shift between Wolffe talking to the wolves and Wolffe talking to himself and the reader. This is intentional. The perspective shifts between the reader and Wolffe a lot, but the change is always separated by a paragraph break. As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Smile

Wolffe frantically searches for you. One minute you’re walking behind him and the next minute you’re gone. He trudges through the piling snow, calling out your name, barely a whisper over the raging winds and whipping snow, but receives no response for his efforts. The battalion lost long-range communications soon after the blizzard started and you’re not answering on comms, so his only hope is to find you before the drifting snow claims you. He can’t lose you, not now.

Wolffe only dares to backtrack so far to look for you, or he might lose the battalion as its dark gray silhouettes slowly fade into the white tundra. Wolffe stares out into the nothingness and calls your name as loud as his voice will let him. Then he waits, hoping for a shred of your voice to make it back to him, but he hears nothing. Gritting his teeth, he turns on his heels and uses the backs of his men as wayfinders to trudge his way up to the front of the procession.

“General,” Wolffe shouts over the storm.

“Yes, commander?” Plo Koon asks as his snow covered parka blows wildly in the wind.

“We’ve lost one of the… men,” Wolffe says, pausing to consider whether he should name you as the lost soldier. He knows how Jedi feel about attachments, and he’s not in the mood for a lecture. “They appear to be lost in the storm.”

“Have you attempted to make contact?” Plo Koon asks.

“Yes, sir,” Wolffe answers. “Multiple times, sir, with no success.”

Plo Koon raises his hand to his face in thought. “That is a predicament.”

“Sir,” Wolffe begins in a serious tone, “with your permission, I want to go after them.”

“That would be ill-advised, commander,” Plo Koon answers. “The storm is getting worse and we must advance to the rendezvous point before we become buried in it ourselves.”

“But sir,” Wolffe argues. “We can’t afford to lose anymore men. Our numbers are dwindling as it is. We need to find them.”

Plo Koon crosses his arms and waits a moment to respond, reading Wolffe through the force like an open book. “Attachments are dangerous, commander. As lethal as this storm.”

Wolffe grimaces and shifts on his feet like a child getting caught in a lie. “I don’t believe in leaving men behind, sir.”

Plo Koon’s facial features soften and he places a gloved hand on Wolffe’s shoulder. “Neither do I, but you are needed here. Perhaps we can send a scout.”

The general is both right and wrong. Having their commander walk away in the middle of a stressful situation will reduce the battalion’s morale significantly. They have been marching to their next rendezvous point for days, and the blizzard is only making it more difficult. However, there is no way in the stars above that a mere scout will be able to find you in this storm. The scout is more likely to get himself lost. But Wolffe? He can find you, without a shred of doubt.

“With all due respect, sir,” Wolffe argues, clenching his fists together to hold his composure. “I am the most suited for this mission. You know this. I refuse to risk any more of my men dying in this storm and being buried unceremoniously under a pile of snow.”

Plo Koon considers Wolffe’s words and the conviction behind them, then sighs. “Very well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Wolffe says, finally releasing the breath he was holding in.

“However,” Plo Koon continues. “We cannot halt the convoy or render aid if you fail your mission. You will be on your own.”

“I understand,” Wolffe nods before turning to walk away.

“And Wolffe,” Plo Koon adds quickly. “Come back safely. Both of you.”

Wolffe doesn’t answer, but the sentiment shared between the two is unmistakable. He will bring you both back safely, or it’s the last thing he’ll do. Wolffe climbs up into the ATTE he’s been living in for the duration of this campaign and grabs his pack. He grabs everything he might need, including canteens, rations, medical supplies, an emergency blanket, and a spare set of blacks, as well as tossing out anything that he knows he won’t need. Traveling light is a must.

Before making his departure, Wolffe seeks out Sinker and temporarily puts him in charge of the battalion for the duration of his absence. Leaving the battalion in Sinker’s hands is an easy decision for Wolffe to make. The sergeant has been by his side since the beginning of the war, and has shown considerable aptitude and courage under distress. Wolffe knows that he is up for the challenge and has faith in him to lead the men to the rendezvous point mostly unscathed.

With everything in order, Wolffe hops down from the ATTE, his boots sinking deeply into the fresh fallen snow beneath. The wind is ripping and visibility is minimal, but Wolffe steels himself and sets out in the opposite direction of the battalion. After a few yards, he looks back. The gray silhouettes of the men and machines are gone. There’s no turning back now. He faces forward, picking his feet up and over the snow in a painstakingly slow process, but at least he’s moving.

As he trudges through the blizzard, snow begins sticking to his armor and weighing him down. He stops every so often to brush himself off, but it quickly becomes a useless effort. He grumbles to himself that of all the planets you had to get lost on, why did it have to be this one? He’s not angry, but he is scared; scared for you and for the little package you carry inside you unawares. Regardless of how he feels about the situation, he is determined to find you.

After a little while longer, he stops and stands still. The snow swirls around him, covering his visor and the gray markings on his armor. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, calling on the senses lying dormant within him to come to the surface and aid him in his search. No human or comm system can find you in this storm, but maybe he can. Maybe the wolf inside him can. A spirit of a bygone era that speaks to his soul at night and shows him images of dancing lights.

Wolffe removes his helmet, a dangerous move in this type of weather. The temperature alone could kill him with frostbite, but he needs to feel the air around him. The cold nips at the tips of his ears and wind blows through his short hair without caution, leaving little bits of frost at the tips. With his eyes still closed, he breathes deeper, calming every nerve in his body until he can find your presence. If we can’t locate you like this, then he’ll be forced to make a drastic move.

Suddenly, it clicks like a strike of lightning. Whether it’s a feeling, a sense, or an intuition, he knows where he needs to go. He shakes the snow off his head and replaces his helmet, bristling as the cold snow melts down the back of his neck. But, he doesn’t have time to worry about his comfort at the moment. Every second he wastes thinking about himself is another second lost trying to find you. He turns and starts walking, letting his internal compass guide him to you.

As he continues forward, the storm lets up a little. He wonders if the change will be permanent or if it’s just a momentary lull. Again, he doesn’t have time to think about the logistics when you could already be dead and frozen, buried under a pile of snow. He shakes his head at the intrusive thoughts, then notices a ridgeline of trees in the distance. His stomach flips and his breath quickens. He knows you’re in there. You’re smart. Of course, you’d try to find shelter.

Wolffe moves as fast as he can through the piled snow towards the forest of trees. He senses that you are nearby. He stops at the edge of the wooded area and scans to the left and to the right, searching, listening, hoping, and praying that he’s not too late and that he can find you still alive. As he’s standing there, a shiver runs up his spine and he knows he needs to find you soon. If he can find you in this weather, so can they, and he’s not in the mood to deal with that.

He enters the tree line cautiously, then hears a sound in the distance that stills his heart. He doesn’t have much time to find you. Breaking out into his best sprint through the deep snow, he pulls on the trees and branches for leverage, making his movements faster as he frantically searches for you. You're close. He can feel it. He can smell it. His heart is beating out of his chest at the sound. They’re coming, a lot of them, and he doesn’t want to be here when they arrive.

Wolffe releases a heavy sigh of relief when he finally sees you, or rather, he sees your emergency shelter tied to a couple trees. You have the beacon on, but its light is barely visible against the white and gray landscape. The shelter is partially buried by the snow and Wolffe falls to his knees to dig you out. The wet snow seeps through his gloves, and the cold bites at his fingertips, but he doesn’t care. He continues digging until he finds the opening of the shelter.

Once he finds the entrance, he digs a bit deeper to make a little path for him to snake his body down and get into the shelter to get you out. When the path is wide enough for his body, he gets on his stomach and shimmies his way to where the zipper is. He pulls it open just enough to peek inside and no more. That’s when he sees you, curled up into a protective ball, covered in an emergency blanket, with a small heat lamp in the middle of the shelter to keep you warm.

“Cyare,” Wolffe calls gently as he opens the entrance wider and wiggles the upper half of his body into the tent. There’s barely enough room for him to crawl on his hands and knees.

You stir and make a small grunting noise.

Wolffe releases another sigh of relief, then rests his forehead against the cold canvas floor of the shelter. He thanks the stars you're still alive. Sadly, his brief moment of relief is quickly interrupted when he hears the sound in the distance again. They’re getting closer and he’s running out of time. He picks his head up and curses under his breath. He needs to get the both of you out of here now, or there will be trouble, and not the type he can easily deal with.

Wolffe stretches out his hand and tugs on your foot, trying to wake you from your sleep. “Cyare,” he calls a little louder.

You startle awake. The light from the tent-opening blinds you for a moment and the cold air nips at your exposed face. When your eyes finally adjust, you see Wolffe’s familiar bucket staring at you. “Wolffe?”

“It’s me,” he says.

“You found me!” you exclaim with excitement.

Wolffe wiggles the rest of his body into the small tent and pulls you into his arms the best he can, gently pressing you against his armored chest. He removes his bucket and rests his forehead against yours. “I found you.”

The sweet reunion is cut short when Wolffe hears the sound again, but this time, it’s not so distant. He jumps into action, releasing you and putting his bucket back on. “Pack up,” he orders. “We have to go. Now.”

You're shocked by the sudden urgency, but you follow Wolffe’s lead and begin rolling up the blanket. “What’s the hurry? The storm–”

“They’re coming,” Wolffe interrupts while stuffing all of the loose items into your pack.

“Who’s coming?” you ask in confusion. One minute you’re sleeping peacefully in your shelter as you wait out the storm and the next minute Wolffe is rushing you back out into the storm.

“We don’t have time for me to explain!” Wolffe snaps. He feels more afraid than he was before he found you.

You’re slightly offended by his harsh tone, but if you know anything about Wolffe, it’s that he doesn’t mess around, especially when it has to do with someone’s safety. You decide not to push the issue and hasten your pace to get things wrapped up. The good thing about emergency shelters is that they’re quick to assemble and even quicker to tear down. You both finish with the pack and you follow Wolffe outside of the shelter and break that down too.

Before you get in another word edgewise, Wolffe grabs your arm and pulls you along through the snow. His grip is tight and you struggle to keep up, feeling like your arm will rip out of its socket. “Wolffe, stop!” you shout while pulling on his arm with your free hand. “Let go!”

Wolffe ignores your struggle, believing that you’ll forgive him later for his roughness when you’re both safe. He doesn’t have the time to coddle you or explain why you need to run away as fast as you can. Your yelling doesn’t help his cause, but then again, they don’t need to hear you in order to find you. It’s already too late, Wolffe knows this, but he refuses to give up without at least trying to get you to safety. Even if he has to deal with it on his own, he needs you safe.

You continue to struggle against Wolffe’s grasp and fight him with each step as you demand an explanation from him. He doesn’t give you one. He doesn’t even turn around to look at you. He just keeps walking, not letting up on his brisk pace that has you panting in cold air that burns your lungs. Finally, in a last ditch effort, and to give your lungs and legs a break, you let your legs go slack and plop yourself down into the snow, jerking on Wolffe’s arm on the way down.

Wolffe stops and grunts in frustration. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Wolffe!” you yell through a panting breath while trying to get him to listen to you. “I can’t keep up. My legs. My lungs. It hurts.”

Wolffe lets go of your arm and paces in a circle as he thinks. “I need you to get up.”

“I told you, I can’t!” you argue.

Wolffe kneels down on the snow in front of you and removes his bucket. He grabs both of your cheeks and forces you to look into his eyes. “I need you to get up. Now.”

His gloves feel cold on your skin and for a moment you see something flash across his eyes, something desperate that you’ve never seen in him before. But before you get to respond, you hear it. The sound of howling in the distance. You watch as Wolffe tilts his head to the side to peek around you and in an instant, you finally understand. How he heard them before you did, you may never know, but that sound is what Wolffe has been afraid of, the sound of wolves.

You find new strength in your fear and get to your feet, ready to start running again, but Wolffe doesn’t move with you. You turn to see him still kneeling in the snow, staring out through the trees at nothing. Your confusion turns into worry which then turns into a deeper fear. You step behind him and place your hand on his shoulder for reassurance. He places his hand atop yours and stands to his feet. He knows something you don’t, but you're too afraid to ask him what it is.

“It’s too late,” he says in a hushed tone.

“Too late?” you ask as your voice quivers. “Too late for what?”

Wolffe turns around and pulls you tight against him, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His cold plastoid armor digs into your clothing. He can hear the fear in your voice and it breaks his heart. This is exactly what he was afraid of, what he didn’t want to happen. The scenario he’s played over and over in his mind since he started out on this mission, the one he so desperately wanted to avoid at all costs, is now inescapable.

Wolffe drags his lips up to your ear and whispers. “Do you trust me?”

You shiver as his hot breath ghosts against the cold shell of your ear. “Always,” you answer.

Wolffe pulls away and plants two firm hands on both of your shoulders. “I need you to listen to me and do everything I say. Understand?”

You look into his eyes and nod your head. “I understand.”

“Don’t move,” Wolffe orders. He shakes your shoulders, like he’s trying to ingrain it in your body. “Don’t move a single inch, no matter what happens.”

You're confused by the instructions, but you trust that Wolffe knows what he’s doing, so you go along with it. “I won’t move. I promise.”

Wolffe nods his head and gives you a small half-smile. “Good girl.”

You watch him carefully, studying his body language, the way he worries his lip and shifts his weight from leg to leg. You can’t help but notice the growing anxiety, so you bring your hand up to cup the side of his face to reassure him. You smooth your hand over his reddened cheek, your fabric glove catching on the rough bristles of the stubble growing in. Wolffe places his hand over yours and leans into the caress, then pulls it away from his face to kiss your palm.

“You know I love you, right?” Wolffe whispers against your hand.

You smile. “I know.”

Wolffe relishes in the simple and soft moment he’s allowed to have with you. He’s not sure what will happen, but he knows that at least in this moment, he has you. He found you, which is what he set out to do. Mission accomplished. But, the promise he made to the general before he left the battalion reverberates in his mind. He swore he would bring you both back safely, and that’s what he still intends to do, no matter the cost.

An eerie silence washes over the area. Every sound of nature is muted by the snow and what’s left in its wake is a hollow peace. However, that silence is pierced by howls and soft steps in the snow. Wolffe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then turns to face the oncoming enemy. He keeps one hand on you for reassurance, and the other in front of him for his own defense, not that it will do him any good. His blasters won’t help him here either, not against a full pack.

The wolves come into view and surround you and Wolffe in a circle. Their fur coats are light gray and white, perfect camouflage for this place they call home. If it weren’t for their golden eyes and black noses, you wouldn’t even be able to see them. Your breath hitches in your throat at their menacing presence. The wolves are large. Larger than you ever imagined from the books you’ve read, with the tips of their ears easily coming up to your hips. You swallow back your fear.

The pack circles around you and Wolffe, then comes to a stop. Wolffe holds his ground as he waits for their next move, but he doesn’t have to wait long. A large, older looking pure white wolf steps out from the circle. The alpha of the pack, Wolffe assumes. He knows what he needs to do, but even in the face of all of these wolves, he’s reluctant. Without an explanation, he’s not sure how you will react to what he’s about to do, but at this point he doesn’t have a choice.

To your surprise, Wolffe starts shucking off his armor, tossing it about haphazardly until he’s only left in his black bodysuit. You watch him with bewilderment, trying to understand why he’d take his armor off during a situation like this. He’ll freeze to death with so little coverage and be vulnerable to attack. You remember his words about not moving, but you want to reach out and touch him. He must be able to read your thoughts because he turns his head to look at you.

“Remember what I said?” Wolffe asks.

“No moving,” you answer. “But Wolffe–”

Wolffe puts a finger to your lips. “Trust me.”

You nod your head and kiss his finger, earning you a sly grin.

Wolffe turns to face the white wolf and you can’t believe what you’re seeing. Bright yellow lights emanate from Wolffe’s fingertips, his toes, his eyes, and his mouth. Wind blows by your head and swirls around him, obscuring everything but his silhouette. You watch as his body morphs into a smaller form and your breath is stolen in awe. He doesn’t make a sound, even as his body contorts into unfamiliar angles. The wind and light disappear and what’s left behind is a wolf.

“Wolffe?” you ask hesitantly, body shaking from what you just witnessed.

Wolffe cranes his neck around and looks back at you with a single, piercing, golden eye, the other eye is still cybernetic and the scar over it has morphed to fit his new facial figure.

“You’re a… wolf,” you stutter in shock.

You’re stunned. When Wolffe asked you to trust him, you weren’t expecting this. You stare at his new form, a man’s body traded in for dark gray fur across his face and ears that travels down his back, a lighter cream color across his belly and legs, and a black stripe down the middle of his back that stretches to the tip of his fluffy tail. He’s a wolf, there’s no mistake about it. You can’t help but admire his beauty, and also feel a level of terror at the teeth hidden in his mouth.

Quite the show, the Alpha says.

Wolffe turns his head back to look at the Alpha. Not great. Rusty.

The Alpha considers Wolffe for a moment, unsure of what to make of him. Your wolf-speak is less than to be desired.

Wolffe snorts. Been a time.

The Alpha is not impressed with Wolffe and circles around you both, sizing up the situation.

As the Alpha moves around you, you notice that it’s much larger than Wolffe, but it also seems much older. You’re not sure why, but that’s the impression you get. You can see multiple scars across his body, each one a proud win against another wolf, you suppose, just as the clones have scars from their battles. To you, everything is quiet. You can’t hear them communicating, but you watch their body language and hear their growls, which still doesn’t mean much to you.

Wolffe plants his paws firmly into the snow, ears pinned, and snarls. Back!

Easy, pup, the Alpha says as he makes a full circle back to where he started. I’m only observing.

Not pup, Wolffe growls.

No? the Alpha questions. Then what are you?

Alpha, Wolffe answers. Own pack.

The Alpha looks at Wolffe with intrigue. Oh? I would have never guessed. You’re rather small for an alpha.

Wolffe barks at the insult, baring his fangs in an intimidating display.

It works, well, at least on you it does. You flinch at the sudden loud noise.

The Alpha disregards it and looks past Wolffe to you. What is that? A hunting trophy?

Wolffe’s fur bristles at the insinuation and rumbles out a low protective growl. Mate.

Odd choice… the Alpha says as he continues to stare at you with mild interest. He decides to ignore you for the time being. Tell me, alpha, what are the laws that govern?

Wolffe cringes at the question. He knows the answer, it’s written somewhere in the DNA that entangles with his own, but his wolf-speak is poor and he can’t put the words together.

Has your tongue gone still? the Alpha goads. Trespassing in another pack’s territory is an offense punishable by death.

Wolffe retakes his defensive stance and bares his fangs.

The Alpha pauses for a moment before responding. However, I am feeling generous today, young alpha.

Wolffe’s ears twitch.

You have two choices, the Alpha offers. Join our pack at a lower rank and we’ll let your mate go free or give us your mate as tribute and you may go free. The choice is yours.

Wolffe snorts at the two bleak choices and decides to make his own third option. He raises his head and howls loudly towards the sky.

The sound is deafening and you cover your ears to try and muffle it. You’re not sure what they’re doing now, but the tension and uncertainty is making your skin crawl. The golden eyes that stare at you from around the forest make you feel small and afraid. You wish to be able to speak to Wolffe, to get any shred of reassurance that everything will be okay, but he hasn’t said a word to you. Your best guess is that he can’t talk to you, which is the only thing that makes sense right now.

Wolffe finishes his howl and waits for the response.

You want to fight? the Alpha asks. A bold move for one so young and stupid.

Not dumb, Wolffe replies. Protect mine.

The Alpha snorts, then stares into Wolffe’s eyes as he searches his soul. You have the spirit of ages within you, young alpha. My old eyes can still see. The Alpha pauses. I will respect your wishes. If you win, you and your mate will earn safe passage through our land, but if I win, you will join our pack and your mate will perish.

Wolffe takes a deep breath. He has too much to lose not to stay focused. Seal it. Sing the song.

The Alpha lifts his muzzle towards the sky and howls. Wolffe then joins in the howling, letting their wolf-songs mingle and intertwine in the sky like a binding contract.

Promise, Wolffe says. Mate not hurt.

You have my word, the Alpha says. Your mate will not be touched during our fight.

Wolffe nods and takes a fighting stance. The Alpha does the same.

You watch the two wolves with great anticipation as your legs tremble beneath you. You’re still unsure about what’s going on, but whatever it is, you trust Wolffe. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. That’s what he told you to do and that’s what you have to hold on to. You must have faith and believe that Wolffe will work things out and you can both go home soon. But waiting in silence, without knowing, is slowly killing your nerves. You want to run and escape.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when Wolffe and the Alpha lunge towards each other, fangs bared. A gasp escapes your throat and you have to tell your trembling legs not to move, just like Wolffe told you. The two wolves collide, both going for each other’s necks. You watch in horror as tufts of gray and white fur are flung about into the air. The sounds of growling and snarling fill your ears as they tumble in the snow, one on top of the other and then vice versa.

The Alpha pins Wolffe to the ground and clamps his jaw around Wolffe’s shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain.

“Wolffe!” you yell and take an automatic step towards him, forgetting Wolffe’s order not to move.

A wolf on the sidelines catches your movement and lunges towards you. You scream and fall back onto the ground. Your cry alerts Wolffe and he snaps his head up. With strength unknown to him he kicks the Alpha off of him and leaves his fight to get to your side. He snarls at the wolf and nips at his legs, causing it to retreat back to the circle. Wolffe whips around and looks into your frightened eyes. He brings his nose to your face and gives your cheek a small, gentle lick.

As sweet as the gesture may seem to Wolffe, you wish you could feel anything other than fear. There’s blood on Wolffe’s muzzle and blood on his fur, reminding you of what he is doing.

Wolffe turns his attention back to the Alpha and barks. Liar!

The immature actions of a young pup, the Alpha says. I assure you, he will be punished severely. The Alpha glares toward the younger wolf in his ranks and bares his fangs with a low growl. The younger wolf cowers back with his ears flattened and his tail between his legs. Shall we continue?

Wolffe agrees and the fight recommences as they both tumble through the snow once again. Nipping and biting at each other’s necks, legs, bellies, and backs. Wolffe gets in a few bites, but the Alpha is much bigger and stronger, yielding better results with his bites, which leaves Wolffe’s beautiful gray fur coat marred with blood. He pauses to catch his breath and looks back at you, his strength and reason to fight. Mustering what he can, Wolffe forces himself to continue.

The yelp Wolffe makes when the Alpha sinks his fangs into his neck is unbearable. All you can do is watch and pray to the Maker that Wolffe survives this. You don’t know what started the fight, you don’t know the rules, and you don’t know what will happen to you if Wolffe dies. You shake your head at the macabre thought and focus on Wolffe surviving. You wish you could help him. You wish you could do more than watch as he lies helpless and whimpering in the snow.

Wolffe is out of breath and running out of strength. For a wolf so young, his stamina isn’t at peak performance, but for someone who rarely uses his wolf form, it’s better than he thought it would be. He lays in the snow, chest heaving as he tries to breathe. The bites sting him like fire and slow him down. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to last. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against a seasoned alpha. He may be the leader of the ‘Wolfpack’, but he’s no alpha.

You want to cry. You don’t know how long the fight has been going on, but you’re getting sick of it. You know you’re not supposed to move, but you can still speak. They can’t stop you from cheering him on. Whether he understands your words or not is a gamble you’re willing to take, because you can’t lose him like this. “Wolffe!” you yell. “Wolffe, get up!”

Through his pained haze, Wolffe can hear your voice calling out to him. The sweet sound of his mesh’la, warped by the fear caught in the back of your throat. He knows you’re trying to be strong for him and he finds it endearing. The need to protect you and to protect his unborn child, overrides his pain. He shifts his legs in the snow, trying to get back up, using your voice as a crutch to stand. He rocks himself onto his stomach and hoists himself up onto his shaky legs.

Will protect, Wolffe chokes out between pants as blood drips from his muzzle. Won’t lose. My mate. My pup.

The Alpha watches Wolffe carefully. His own white coat has been stained by blood. Some of it is his but most of it is from Wolffe. He finds the young alpha compelling. His protectiveness over his mate is rivaled by that of many an alpha and he admires him for his strong will. The Alpha can sense it strongly now, the spirit that resides in Wolffe. An ancient spirit from many generations before him. The one that chases the moon at night and howls with his brethren in chorus song.

The Alpha approaches Wolffe and bows. I concede to you, young alpha.

Wolffe heaves in a labored breath, his shaking legs about to buckle underneath him. He’s not sure if this is a trick, but according to the laws that govern, this means he wins.

The Alpha steps closer and Wolffe takes a cautious step back.

Your spirit, the Alpha begins to explain, it’s strong and powerful; ancient as the dancing lights that adorn the heavens. Don’t lose it.

Wolffe stares into the golden eyes of the Alpha and sees his truth. He bows to the Alpha, turns, and limps his way over to you.

You and your mate will have safe passage through our land, the Alpha exclaims to Wolffe and his own pack.

Wolffe turns back to look at the Alpha. Thank you.

And with that, the pack of wolves disappear into the trees as silently as they came. You stare with wide-eyes, then drop to the ground, your legs refusing to bear the load of your body any longer. You don’t know if you should cry, scream, or laugh. Regardless, you and Wolffe are safe, at least you hope you're safe. You startle for a moment when you feel Wolffe’s nose touch you. You look into his tired eyes, trying to read them as best as you can, but you understand nothing.

“Can you turn back?” you ask. “To a human?”

Too weak, he answers, but his voice won’t reach your ears.

You sigh when you get no response. With no way to communicate with Wolffe, you’re not sure what to do. You don’t know where you are and with no comms to contact the battalion, you’re on your own. You stretch out your hand to pet Wolffe’s head, but you recoil it when you get too close, scared he might not be who you think he is. Wolffe sees your hesitation and lifts his head into the palm of your hand, nuzzling it for comfort. You smile and scratch behind his ears.

Overcome with the emotion you are holding in, you throw your arms around Wolffe’s neck and bury your face in his soft fur. “You saved us. Thank you.”

Wolffe wants to melt into your embrace, but a snowflake landing on his nose reminds him of the other situation. Wolffe pulls out of your arms and starts pushing at his armor with his nose, piling it together. You tilt your head at his actions, but when you see the snow start to fall again, you get the idea. You stack Wolffe’s armor neatly and wrap a cord around it so you can tie it to your pack. Wolffe grabs his bag between his teeth and you grab yours, slinging it onto your back.

Wolffe starts limping forward and you walk closely behind him, following his lead through the forest. If anyone can get you home, it’s Wolffe. You soon reach the end of the forest and stare out into the wide advance of nothingness. The snow falls harder and the wind begins to howl. You shiver as the cold air breaches your layers of clothing. Wolffe turns around and stands behind you. He noses at his bucket tied to your pack and you wonder what he wants.

You put your pack down and carefully remove his bucket from the neatly tied package of armor, then hand it to Wolffe, unsure of what he could possibly want with it in that form. It’s not as if it will fit on his head.

If Wolffe could roll his eyes, he would, but instead he pushes his nose against the bucket so it goes back towards you.

You sigh and shake your head, still unsure of what he wants you to do with it.

Put it on! Wolffe growls as he drops his pack from his mouth.

His sudden outburst startles you. “I don’t know what you want me to do!” you snap at him.

Wolffe tries to calm himself. The language barrier is grating on him, so he takes the bucket in his mouth and places his front paws on your knees to gain some height, then haphazardly drops the bucket on top of your head. It sits crooked and looks funny from Wolffe’s vantage point, but it should get the point across.

“Oh,” you realize. “You want me to wear it.”

Wolffe nuzzles his nose against your hand as an affirmation.

You situate his bucket on your head, but it’s too big on you and bobbles around. You think you look ridiculous, but if this is what Wolffe wants then this is what you’re going to do. It’s probably to keep your face from freezing off in the cold, but it could have other uses as well and you just don’t know it.

“How do you see out of this thing?” you ask as you try to walk forward, but the HUD throws you off balance.

Wolffe can’t smile or laugh, but he snorts through his nostrils at your comment. He sees just fine out of it, but then again, it is made for him.

You watch Wolffe’s reaction to your comment and wonder. “Can you understand me?” you ask.

Wolffe nuzzles his nose against your hand again to answer your question.

“We can work with that,” you think out loud. “We need some way to communicate... How about for yes or no questions, touch your nose to my hand for yes and growl for no?”

Wolffe touches his nose to your hand in agreement.

“Well, that was easy,” you breathe.

Actually, none of this is easy. You're several klicks away from your battalion, out in the middle of a snowstorm with a small amount of supplies, and an injured Wolffe who seems to be stuck in a wolf’s body. At least, that’s what you gather from the fact that he is still a wolf and not a human. You don’t have any way to confirm that theory, but you can’t imagine that he would choose to stay a wolf if he had a choice. The words you speak in your mind surprise yourself and you sigh.

Wolffe can smell the storm coming and he nudges your back to push you forward, causing you to stumble.

“Hey!” you turn around and exclaim. “Just because you’re a wolf doesn’t mean you can’t have manners!”

Wolffe snorts, picks his pack back up, and limps past you.

You huff, then hoist your pack onto your back and follow after him.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been walking, but your legs are tired and your body is freezing. The blizzard began to rage not long after you left the forest, and you're both out in the thick of it without much protection. The wind whips around you and threatens to knock you over as it bites your skin through your clothing. Wolffe was smart with making you wear the helmet. There’s no way you would’ve been able to see without it and your ears would have fallen off already.

You have one hand holding the strap of your bag and the other holding onto Wolffe’s tail as he guides you forward through the storm. You don’t know where he’s leading you, but you trust him that it’s towards shelter. Well, that’s what you're hoping for anyway. He, at least, has fur and is made for this type of weather, but, you don’t have a fur coat to keep you warm and your two heavy legs sink further into the deep snow while his four lighter legs sit closer to the surface.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to start staggering, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Wolffe when his tail gets yanked. It hurts, but it’s better than losing you in the storm, so he bears it without complaint. It’s when you let go of his tail that he gets worried. He turns around and looks back to see you laying still in the snow. Panic washes over him and he limps back over to you. He knows that if you stay like this, you’ll get buried in the snow and he can’t let that happen.

Wolffe drops his pack and digs with his paws to get your head out of the snow. He pushes you with his nose to try and get you back up, but you don’t budge. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heartbeat, but you still won’t move. He digs around each side of your body as the snow continues to bury your limbs. He grabs onto your outer jacket with his teeth and pulls, but with the weight of the snow you're too heavy for him. He steps back to reassess the situation.

Wolffe paces beside you as he tries to think, then howls in frustration towards the gray sky. Get up, cyare, Wolffe pleads. Please, get up.

He noses at your face, but gets no reaction.

We’re so close, Wolffe says, trying to encourage you to keep moving, like you did for him during the fight, but his voice falls on deaf ears. You have to get up! That’s an order!

He still gets no response. Not even a stir from you.

Don’t make me do this, cyare, Wolffe growls.

He only has one option left and it makes him sick to his stomach. It’s the last thing he wants to do, and he hopes you will forgive him when this is all over, but he’ll do anything to keep you safe. To keep you both safe. He digs out your left arm that has been re-buried by the heavy falling snow and bites down hard.

You jerk at the searing pain in your arm.

The adrenaline in your body starts pumping and you're quickly awoken. You figure you must have fallen asleep since you’re laying in the snow. You look up through the HUD with half-lidded eyes and see Wolffe crouching in front of you, your arm in his mouth. He’s biting you. He’s eating you. You stare at your arm as blood begins to soak through your coat sleeve. You’re scared. Not of the storm, but of Wolffe. He has your arm in his mouth and you're afraid he’ll rip it off.

“Get off me!” you yell hoarsely, scrambling to get up out of the snow and away from him. “I’m not your dinner!”

Wolffe drops your arm before you hurt yourself. I’m sorry.

You stare at him and then your bloody arm in shock and disbelief. “You bit me!”

Regret washes over him at your reaction. I’m so sorry.

“Why?” you ask. You feel heartbroken and confused as to why Wolffe would bite you. Why he would intentionally hurt you. You don’t understand. All of those sweet promises he’s whispered in your ear during moments of passion slip away on the raging winds of the blizzard. He told you he’d never hurt you, but he did. He hurt you and you’re bleeding. “Why would you do that?”

Wolffe drops his tail between his legs and lays himself flat against the snow to seem less intimidating. He wishes he could explain, but he can’t. He never meant for you to misconstrued his intentions so far as to think he would attack you on purpose, or eat you. It’s the worst-case scenario, but he’d rather have you alive and hate him than have you dead and love him. You both need to keep moving, but he lets you settle down before making any more movements.

You lie in the snow as you let the adrenaline run its course. The snow starts to pile around you and in a moment of clarity, you understand why he bit you. If he didn’t wake you, then you would have been buried in the snow and froze to death. It doesn’t make the wound hurt any less, and you’ll never forget what it looked like to have your arm bleeding in his mouth, but you can push past your anger for the moment and move on. You can talk about it later when you’re both safe.

You make an attempt to push yourself up and out of the snow, but struggle. Wolffe gets up and places his muzzle under your other arm, trying to help lift you so you can stand. You get the picture and use him to pull yourself out of the snow. Once you’re up, you lean against Wolffe to help regain your balance before trekking on. Moving is a chore for both of you now. Between his wounds and limp and your frozen and tired body, it’s a miracle you’ve even gotten this far.

When you’re ready to get moving, you grab onto Wolffe’s tail. He picks up his pack, and once again guides you through the blizzard to shelter. It’s not much further before you see a dark shadow appear through the blinding snow. As you get closer, you see the outline of a cabin and breathe a sigh of relief. You knew Wolffe would find shelter, and you’re so thankful that he’s with you. If it weren’t for him, you’d still be back in the woods, waiting to be devoured by wolves.

You approach the cabin and Wolffe scratches at the wooden door, whining for you to open it. You pull the latch and Wolffe drops his pack and runs in before you to be sure it’s safe. The last thing you need is more danger or obnoxious critters. The cabin is dark and cold, but solid, and not too drafty. It will do just fine to wait out the rest of the blizzard. Wolffe circles back from his perimeter search and presses his nose into your hand to let you know it’s safe for you to enter.

With Wolffe’s nose-touch of approval, you pull the door shut against the merciless winds and latch it closed. You drop your pack down, pull out some glow sticks, and the small heat lamp you had in your tent. You crack the glow sticks and place them around the outer areas of the cabin to get some much needed light, then place the small heater in the middle of the room. It won’t throw enough heat for the entire cabin, but it will take the chill out of your bones for the time being.

Wolffe can see without the glow sticks, but he knows you can’t. As you settle in, he does a more thorough reconnaissance and assessment of your situation. There’s a fireplace, some chopped wood, an old table, some broken cabinets with no food in them, and a worn out rug in the middle of the floor. It’s not much, but it’s enough. More than enough, actually. Wolffe turns when he hears you strike a match to light the fireplace. The small fire casts a warm orange glow in the room.

Finally able to relax, you take Wolffe’s bucket off and place it on the table alongside his armor. You pull your coat and gloves off, and blow into your hands to warm them up. It will take a little for the fire to heat the entire cabin. You look over at Wolffe and see the blood dripping from his shoulder. You’re not sure how he’s still standing, but you need to get that wound taken care of before it becomes infected. You grab the medpack from your pack and walk over to the fire.

“Come here,” you call as you sit crisscross on the rug and pat the area next to you.

Wolffe, absolutely exhausted, slowly limps over and lies down on the carpet beside you. He places his muzzle on your left leg and you run a hand across his head. He closes his eyes. You gently move your hand down to touch the area where his shoulder is bleeding and he whines. You frown, then grab the bacta and start applying it. Wolffe kicks out his hind leg at the pain, but he stays still for you. Finally, you wrap the wound in bandages, then take care of the other bites.

Once you’re done with Wolffe’s wounds, you move onto your own. You pull the sleeve up on your left arm, and wince as the movement opens the scabs that are stuck to the fabric.

Wolffe picks his head up off your leg when he hears your pain. He looks for the source and sees the puncture marks of his teeth on your arm. His stomach drops. He gave you that wound. It’s his fault that you’re bleeding and he wishes he could fix it. If only he had the strength to change back, he could bandage your wound, instead of forcing you to do it yourself. In an effort to help, he leans forward and licks at your wound, but you recoil and reflexively whack his nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim. “That hurts!”

Wolffe whines and lowers his head to rest on the rug between his front legs. He didn’t mean to hurt you even more. He just wanted to help. I’m sorry, cyare.

You look at how sad he is and sigh. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Wolffe remains still, but lifts his eyes to look up at you.

You meet his gaze and offer him a sad smile. You can never stay mad at Wolffe for long, even if he did bite you. Usually you like it when he bites you, but not when his teeth are as sharp as a vibro-blade. Besides, there’s no use in staying angry at him, not when he’s already saved your life three times in one day. You pat his head and give him a small scratch behind his ear, which seems to perk him up a little. “Good boy.”

Getting back to the task at hand, you apply the bacta to your wound and wrap it in a bandage. It’s not the best job you’ve ever done, but you did it with one hand, so you feel somewhat proud of yourself. Now that the wounds have been taken care of, you move onto food and water. You get up from the floor and rifle through Wolffe’s pack. You grab the canteens and rations from it, since you used your supply back in the forest, and sit back down next to Wolffe.

You reach out to hand one of the canteens to Wolffe, then stop when you remember he can’t drink out of it like a person. You sigh, stand back up, and walk over to the kitchen area past the old wooden table. There’s no food in the cabinets, but there has to be a bowl you can use, and it doesn’t take long for you to find one. You wipe it out with your shirt and bring it back to where you were sitting, then place it in front of Wolffe’s nose and pour the canteen of water into it.

Wolffe continues to lie on the floor, but picks his head up to lap at the water in the bowl. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until the first droplets hit his tongue and he eagerly drinks the rest of the bowl, being careful not to spill any of the precious resource. When you try to refill the bowl with more water, Wolffe stops you. He doesn’t need it as much as you do, and if push comes to shove, it’s easier for him to go find water in his wolf form, than it is for you as a human.

Once you’ve had your fill of water, you open up the ration pack and toss one of the bars to Wolffe. He catches it mid-flight in his mouth and eats the entire bar in one bite. You’re a little surprised, but you’re not sure what you were expecting, considering the size of his mouth and what wolves actually eat for sustenance. You chuckle. “Well, those aren’t going to last long.”

When you try to give Wolffe another ration bar, he does the same thing he did with the canteen of water and declines it. He intentionally doesn’t catch it, and the second bar comically bounces off of his head and onto the ground. Wolffe gently picks the ration bar up in his mouth and drops it in your lap for you to eat. He can survive on the one ration bar for a while. It’s more important to him that you get your proper nutrients to help keep you and the little one healthy and safe.

You pick up the ration bar and cringe in disgust that it has some of his wolf-saliva on it. But, then again, it can’t be the worst bodily fluid of Wolffe’s you’ve ever put in your mouth, so you eat it without complaint and try not to think about it too much.

After you finish the ration bar, you and Wolffe sit in silence for a while and just listen to the crackling fire in front of you and the howling blizzard outside. It’s peaceful, in a sort of sense, and almost comforting. You look over at Wolffe and wonder if he’s fallen asleep. He has his front paws crossed with his head resting on top of them and his eyes are closed. You look back over at the fire and yawn, thinking it’s best for you to get some sleep as well. You’re exhausted.

You get up off the floor, walk over to the table, grab the blanket from your pack, and sit back down next to Wolffe. You look over at him and his eyes are open and staring at you. You shake your head at his alertness. Not much gets past him. You stretch your arms out over your head, then lay the blanket on your body. You rest your head on the hard floor, which quickly becomes uncomfortable, and you know you’ll wake up with a crick in your neck if you try to sleep like this.

You sit up and look at Wolffe, who is still watching you. “Can I…” you fidget with the edge of the blanket. “Can I lay on you?”

Wolffe picks his head up and beats his tail against the wooden floor.

You giggle at his response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Wolffe changes his position and lies out flat on his side with his legs outstretched towards the fire. He doesn’t care what position he sleeps in, because his fur works as a buffer against even the hardest of surfaces. He’ll gladly be your pillow and he’s happy to oblige you. You're still his cyare, even when he’s in his wolf form. The wolf form changes nothing about how he feels about you or his devotion and duty to protect you. He may be in a wolf’s body, but his heart is his own.

You situate yourself between Wolffe’s legs and lay your head on his side, being careful not to disturb any of the bandages. His body is warm and his fur is soft. You can feel him breathing steadily as his chest rises and falls, and the sound of his heartbeat is so similar to his human form that when you close your eyes, you can imagine it’s him you’re laying against. You nuzzle your cheek against Wolffe’s soft fur and let yourself drift off to sleep, safe by his side.

When you wake up, you feel a slight chill and notice the fire has died down. You need to get up to put more logs on it to stay warm, but you don’t want to move. You lazily rub your face against Wolffe, but it doesn’t feel right. There’s no fur. You pick your head up and look at Wolffe, but he’s no longer a wolf, he’s human. He’s also completely naked. Realizing that he’s going to freeze to death being exposed like that, you lay your blanket on top of him and get up to rekindle the fire.

You're glad he’s back to normal. You weren’t sure how long he was going to be a wolf, or if he was ever going to change back into the man you know, but you feel relieved now. You carefully lift the blanket to check the bandages, and you can see his injuries better now without the fur, and they look good. Nothing is infected, but the bandage on his shoulder needs to be changed. You run your fingers through his hair, then warm yourself by the fire and wait for him to wake up.

It’s not much longer before Wolffe begins to stir and shift uncomfortably on the hard wooden floor. You smile as you hear the familiar grunt he makes when he wakes up from a good night’s sleep and you bask in the sound of the deep voice you love so much. You turn from the fire to look at him, and you see him try to push himself up from the floor and onto all fours. You scoot across the rug and gently push him back down before he reopens the wound on his shoulder.

“Cyare,” Wolffe says, his voice rough with sleep. He tries to touch his nose to you, but he misses by several inches, not realizing that he’s back to his human form.

“It’s me,” you giggle.

“You can understand me?” Wolffe asks in confusion.

“You’re you again,” you explain as you grab his hand and touch it to his face. “See? No fur.”

Wolffe grunts like he has a hangover and places a hand against his throbbing head. “Must have changed back in my sleep.”

“Yeah, about that…” you say, trying to segue into the obvious.

Wolffe slowly sits up, the blanket falling down around his waist. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” you counter while sitting down next to him. “The blizzard hasn’t let up.”

Wolffe sighs. He knew this conversation was coming and he thought of several ways to explain it to you without it sounding like some bizarre folktale, but he’d rather not. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me,” you say with folded arms.

A shiver runs up Wolffe’s spine and he realizes he’s naked. “Can I have my blacks first?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” you say before getting up and grabbing the spare set of blacks Wolffe put in his pack, then returning to hand them to him. “Sorry about that.”

Wolffe chuckles and grabs his blacks from your hands. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

Wolffe quickly puts his blacks on and melts into the comfort of the tight bodysuit against his bare skin. He sits back down next to you and immediately pulls you into his lap, your back against his chest, and wraps his arms around your stomach while burrowing his face in your neck. He peppers your neck with soft kisses, making you smile. His kisses become longer, more focused, and he trails them from your neck down to your shoulder as his hands creep under your shirt.

“Wolffe,” you say knowingly.

“Hm?” he mumbles into your neck.

“You’re stalling,” you say as you remove his hands from under your shirt.

Wolffe grunts at your perceptiveness. He really thought he could make you forget by working you up, but he was dead wrong. You want to know, and he knows you well enough that you won’t let it go until you have an answer. With a heavy sigh, he stops his attack of kisses and shuffles you around in his lap so you’re facing him. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” you answer. “Tell me everything.”

Wolffe sighs and begins his recount of the events.

“It was near the beginning of the war. My first campaign after losing my battalion and my eye. I was at my lowest point back then.”

Your shoulders slump and eyes soften at his words.

“During the campaign I got separated from the battalion, on a world similar to this one, and I found myself cold and alone on the side of a snowy mountain, staring up at the night sky and waiting to die. Thought I was going to.”

You lean your head on his shoulder as you continue to listen.

“Then I saw these green and blue lights appear out of nowhere and dance across the black sky, right over my head. They were beautiful. As I stared up at the lights, I saw this white figure jumping down from them like it was a staircase or something. As it got closer, it kinda looked like a wolf, but it was see-through and wispy-like. I’d never seen something like that before.”

You chuckle at Wolffe’s descriptions.

“You find it funny, but I thought I was dying and seeing things. So, the wispy-wolf-looking thing came over to me, and I mean it stood right next to me, and started talking to me. It said I had a ‘strong heart’ and a ‘wise mind’, or something like that, and then it asked me if I wanted to live. I actually thought about saying no, but I ended up saying yes for whatever reason.”

You grab onto Wolffe tightly, and he rubs your back to soothe you.

“Then it spoke again and said it was an ancient wolf-spirit that travels across the night sky, waiting for someone worthy who can tether it back to the ground, or something like that. It didn’t make much sense to me, but I agreed. It was better than dying on that mountainside. Then that thing walked right inside of me and I nearly pissed myself.”

You snort.

“That was my first transformation into an actual wolf. Once I was in the wolf form, I could smell and see and sense all kinds of things. That’s how I found my way back to the battalion. The general was the only one who knew it was me, through the force I guess, and we never told anyone. It took a little to figure out how to transform back, but the wolf-spirit’s been inside me ever since.”

“You can’t get rid of it?” you ask. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Not that I know of,” Wolffe shrugs. “It’ll probably leave me when I die, and go back up into the dancing lights.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you say.

Wolffe tilts his head to the side. “It does?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer.

“So, you believe me?” Wolffe asks.

“Of course,” you say with a small laugh. “There’s no reason not to. Besides, there’s lots of things in this galaxy that we don’t know about, and wolf spirits now aren’t one of them.”

Wolffe gives you a crooked smile and places his forehead against yours. “I don’t deserve you.”

You lean into the embrace and sigh, but your happy moment is interrupted by your growling stomach.

“Hungry?” Wolffe asks.

“A little,” you answer while getting off his lap.

You walk over to the table and pull out the last package of rations from Wolffe’s pack. You open the package and put one of the bars in your mouth, then throw the other one to Wolffe. He catches it, but he doesn’t eat it.

“You can have mine,” Wolffe says.

You cross your arms. “You need to eat.”

“I can wait,” he says.

“You're injured,” you argue. “You need energy to recover.”

“I have reserves,” he retorts.

“Wolffe,” you huff. “I’m not arguing with you. Eat the bar.”

“I said, no,” he says sternly.

“Fine,” you say as you put your coat on. “Then I’ll go find you something to eat.”

Wolffe gets up from the floor and grabs your arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You give Wolffe an incredulous look, then yank your arm back. “What is your problem all of a sudden?”

“I’ll go out and find us some food,” he says.

“You’re injured!” you exclaim. “If you transform back into a wolf, you’re going to break open your wound!”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he says.

“Well, I’m not,” you huff and start walking towards the cabin door.

Wolffe stands in front of it with his arms crossed. “You’re staying in this cabin and that’s an order.”

“Wolffe, I swear to the Maker, you can’t just pull rank on me whenever it suits you!” you exclaim.

“Too bad,” he says.

You fume and try to push past him. “Get out of my way!”

Wolffe groans. “Stop fighting me!”

“Stop telling me what to do!” you yell.

Wolffe grabs your shoulders and shakes you. “What do I have to do, huh?” he asks. “Tie you up?”

“Maybe,” you sneer.

“Why can’t you just listen to me?!” he exclaims.

“Because,” you begin, “you’re not making the best decision for the two of us!”

Wolffe’s patience snaps. “Only because I’m trying to make the best decision for the three of us!”

You pause, taken aback by his choice of words. “Three?”

Wolffe sighs and leans his head back against the door, kicking himself for saying the one thing he didn’t want to say.

“Wolffe,” you ask slowly. “What do you mean by three?”

Wolffe wipes his hand across his face and looks at your confused expression. “You’re pregnant.”

You gasp in shock. “What– How– When– How do you know that?”

Wolffe rubs the back of his neck. “It started out as more than a hunch, but when I transformed into a wolf, I knew for sure because I could hear its heartbeat.”

You place a hand on your stomach and stagger backwards, looking for a place to sit as you try to process this life-changing information.

Wolffe catches you and guides you to one of the chairs by the table. He kneels down in front of you and takes your hands in his. “I wasn’t going to say anything until you figured it out on your own. I’m sorry. It would’ve been difficult to explain.”

You stare at Wolffe, still in disbelief. “I’m pregnant?”

Wolffe nods his head. “Yeah.”

“I’m pregnant,” you say as you continue to stare at Wolffe.

Wolffe isn’t sure what to do, so he just stays still and waits for you to make the next move.

Suddenly, the lightbulb turns on in your head. “That’s why you gave me your rations and why you didn’t want me to leave.”

Wolffe lets his shoulders relax as you finally understand. “Exactly,” he sighs. “I was worried about the baby.”

You start to laugh and Wolffe raises his eyebrow in confusion. You throw your arms around Wolffe’s neck and squish yourself against him tightly. He pulls you from the chair to sit in his lap and holds you there for as long as you will let him. He rubs your back with his hands and soothes you with soft kisses along your neck.

“Will you let me take care of you now?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

Wolffe gives you one last big squeeze, then hoists you up to carry you over to the rug near the fire. He places you down gently on the rug and wraps you up in the blanket, then gives you a small kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Promise?” you ask.

“Promise,” he answers.

Wolffe removes his blacks, since it’s the only pair he has and he doesn’t want to ruin them, then hands them to you. “Here, they should smell like me now.”

You smile, take them from him, and breathe in his calming scent.

Wolffe leaves the cabin, making sure the door latches securely behind him, then transforms into a wolf so he can find some food. His shoulder wound still hurts, but he can walk on it without much of a limp now, which is fine for him. Even if it was broken, he would still go out and find you food. The urge to protect and provide is so much stronger now that he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re carrying his child. He would do anything to keep you both safe.

Now that you’ve settled down and have time to think, you feel bad for being angry and argumentative with Wolffe. Everything he’s done for you since he first found you in the forest has been to protect you and the baby you didn’t even know about. You can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it has been for him to keep that secret for so many weeks. You’re body hasn’t changed, so it never even occurred to you that you could be pregnant, but he knew.

You wait diligently in front of the fire for Wolffe to return, wishing you had a data-pad to distract yourself with, or even a deck of cards, or anything. Waiting in the quiet is making you fidget out of boredom, and if you’re not careful, you’ll fidget your fingernails right off your fingers. You need something busy yourself with, so you scan around the cabin to try and find inspiration. Then you realize that whatever food Wolffe brings back with him is going to need to be cooked. Bingo.

You throw Wolffe’s top blacks over your head, so you don’t have to carry the blanket around, and you walk over to the kitchen portion of the room. You go through all of the broken cabinets and drawers until you find something to cook in. You have a fire, but throwing some dead carcass on an open flame makes your stomach churn. Eventually, you find a large pan hidden away in a corner. It’s a little dusty, but it’ll do. You clean it off, then set it near the fire to preheat.

Satisfied with your preparations, you sit back down onto the rug and continue to wait for Wolffe. Your wait isn’t much longer before Wolffe returns from his hunt, but then again, without a chronometer, you can’t tell how long he’s actually been gone. The latch on the cabin door opens, then closes abruptly, and you smile while stoking the fire. You hear him take a few steps into the cabin as the floor creaks beneath his weight, but the steps are followed by a loud thud.

You whip around to see Wolffe lying on the ground, his fresh kill next to him. You rush over to check and make sure he’s still breathing, and he is. Thank the Maker. His body is cold from exposure, which makes sense, but you notice his breathing is labored and he’s sweating. You put your hand to his forehead and it’s hot. He has a fever. You curse under your breath, and check under the bandage on his shoulder. It’s red around the edges, just what you were afraid of.

“Wolffe,” you say. “I need you to get up for me.”

Wolffe groans.

“Come on,” you say while putting his arm around your shoulder. “You’re too heavy for me. I need you to help me.”

Wolffe musters what he can and you do your best to drag him over to the rug by the fire. His body is cold, and you need to warm him up so he has a chance to fight the infection. You lay him down on the rug and work to get his blacks on. It’s a struggle, and you wish he would’ve stayed in his wolf form since it came with its own fur coat, but you guess it’s better if he can talk to you. You cover him with the blanket, then focus on cleaning and redressing his shoulder.

Once you get Wolffe situated, you turn your attention to the dead creature at the door. You're not completely sure how to turn it into dinner, so you just throw it into the pan next to the fire and hope for the best. It’s better than starving, but you wish you could make it into soup to help Wolffe. You think for a moment, then get an idea. You grab snow from outside and use it to fill the pan. Then take the electrolyte package from the medpack and dump it in the pan too.

You look at your concoction brewing by the fire and narrow your eyes. “That’s going to taste awful.”

“Mesh’la,” Wolffe calls in between pants.

You turn your attention away from the pan and back to Wolffe, then scoot over to him. “I’m here.”

“Sorry,” he breathes.

You smile and wipe his forehead with your sleeve. “Don’t be. You took good care of me, of us. Now it’s my turn.”

Wolffe doesn’t respond, but you know he would if he could. What’s important now is that he gets rest.

After a little while, you check on the weird soup you’re trying to make and see that the creature is thoroughly cooked, at least, you think it’s thoroughly cooked. You taste some of the ‘broth’ and you’re not impressed, but at least it has salt and nutrients in it. You scoop up the broth into one of the bowls you found and bring it over to Wolffe. You situate yourself behind him so he can sit up against you and you can help him drink it. He fights you on it, but you eventually win.

Once you’re both fed, you throw more logs on the fire and settle in on the rug next to Wolffe. He’s shivering from his fever, so you snuggle up to him to try and keep both of you warm. It’s not ideal for you, but you know Wolffe would try to give you the blanket and his blacks if he knew you were cold, and you can’t let him do that, not when he’s sick. With Wolffe heating your back and the fire heating your front, you let your mind slow down and drift off to sleep.

The next two rotations, you guess, are similar. Wolffe’s fever continues as he fights the shoulder infection and the blizzard still rages on outside. You wonder if it’ll ever stop. The only good thing about the cold is that you can leave the leftovers outside and defrost them by the fire when you need them. Lucky for you, Wolffe brought back a decent sized creature that you’ve been able to ration out. But, the food reserves are dwindling, and neither of you will survive on nothing.

Finally, on the third rotation, you think, Wolffe’s fever breaks and his infection looks much better. He continually apologizes to you for getting sick, but he knew that if he didn’t bring back food, and he fell ill, you both would have been in trouble. You, of course, tell him not to worry about it and that you’re glad he came back safely. He saved your life, again, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Actually, he saved both you and your baby’s life, which makes you love him even more.

Not long afterwards, you both notice a silence. It’s still dark outside, but there’s a certain sound missing. The sound of the howling winds. You walk over to the cabin door, with Wolffe right behind you, and you open it to see nothing but a white ground and a black sky. The storm is over. You smile and lean back against Wolffe’s chest in relief. Now you can leave and head towards the rendezvous point to meet up with the battalion. It won’t be difficult with Wolffe leading the way.

As you stare out into the darkness, hot puffs of breath mingling into the cold night air, the sky lights up with green and blue colored streaks. Your mouth gapes and your eyes widen at the magical sight. It’s just like Wolffe described, dancing lights in the night sky. Wolffe wraps an arm around you and pulls you close against him and smiles. He’s happy you get to see them too. Then he hears the spirit within him howl towards the dancing lights above and he feels complete.

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diaconicon · 4 months

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Could you write a connor stoll x daughter of Athena reader. Where connor watches the reader and another person do romantic kareoke and he gets jelous because he think the reader likes that person.

⬆️This was an anonymous ask, which I unfortunately lost because I accidently deleted it😭 I'm so sorry to whoever requested this, I hope you still find it in some way!

All my Loving

connor stoll x daughterofathena! reader

Summary: basically what the request says, made it a bit christmassy because its in less than a week (2 days now), and i miss the spirit

Warnings: none (I think), probs ooc everyone. We're just gonna ignore the fact that the Camp has the barrier that stops it from raining inside okay? I kind of forgot don't hate me love you guys xoxo. English isn't my first language, so there could be some errors

22nd of December. It was almost Christmas, and Camp Half-Blood was in a fuss between Christmas decorations, some of the campers packing to go back to their families the day after for the Holiday, and the preparations for the 24th and 25th for the other campers who would stay, everyone had something to do and somewhere to be, not leaving a lot of free time to wish everyone goodbye and a Merry Christmas.

Here came the Hermes Cabin, as always, to 'save the day' - as said by its residents. They decided to host a karaoke night on the 22nd as a sort of pre-Christmas celebration, so everyone could also enjoy it with their friends who would go away the next day.

Of course, everyone was invited - although it was still a mystery how the Hermes Cabin was always capable of pulling out all these big parties without getting in trouble - but you were still debating on whether to go or not, not being the most social type, and definitely not very inclined to be singing, but after contemplating for some minutes, you decided to cave in and go. Most of your half-brothers and sisters wouldn't be there, but, after all, Connor did ask you personally to come, saying that 'you would really do him a favour' because 'everyone was just so boring and no fun to be around', and you just couldn't say no to him, you were, besides, quite fond of both him and his brother and it would be rude to just not go.

I mean, you wouldn't have to sing anyways if you didn't want to, right? You could just go, have fun with your friends, have a few drinks, watch other people sing and, most importantly, spend a bit of time with Connor before you went back home to your family for the holiday's.

Well, you were wrong. Almost everything was going perfectly. You arrived at the cabin, said hello to some of your friends, poured yourself a drink, and then, as planned, you went to search for Connor, who you found in a corner next to his brother, who scattered away (not without tripping at least a few times) almost immediately after greeting you with a quick "Oh hello there, how are you? Everything okay? Hope you're enjoying yourself. Oh, just a minute, will you? I think someone's calling me - and then turning to his brother - catch you later, Con."

And that left just you and Connor alone, in an awkward silence. Although you were usually so talkative with him, it really wasn't so hard to open up when he was around. He always let you feel so comfortable without even trying, you guessed it was in his demeanour, the way he walked, the way he acted, you didn't know exactly, but he definitely wasn't much of an awkward person as you were, quite confident of himself, but quieter than his brother, calmer, which made him more likable in your opinion. He was fun to be around, very animated, but when needed, he could also be very sensible and almost a shoulder to cry on. He was just so.. warm, almost like the sun, or an oven! You weren't sure how to put it, but he did really remind you of freshly baked cookies, who were still warm ones out of the oven, but that you had to wait for to cool down before eating, otherwise it would be 'bad' for your stomach (at least according to your dad).

But maybe it was something in the air that night, the music was really loud and you already could barely hear yourself over the others singing, maybe it was Travis' abrupt disappearance, but neither of you said a word, not even a 'hello' or a 'how are you?' After some seconds, what must have felt like minutes, you decided to be the first one to break the silence, then you saw that he too wanted to say something, and opting to let him take the word instead, you leaned in to hear him better. But just then, some of your other friends called you, wanting you to come sing with them and even after making it pretty clear that you had no intention whatsoever of participating, they still dragged you out to the karaoke section, pretty much forcing you to sing at this point. Maybe you were exaggerating - well, you were definitely exaggerating - but at that moment, it felt like being processed to death, tragically waiting for a guillotine to cut your head off.

You didn't know how it happened, but you ended up having to sing a duet with some Apollo boy you didn't even know well, although quite cute in your opinion, you couldn't even seem to recall his name.

Not quite as bad as you thought it would be, the song went by really fast, and you could even say you had fun. After chatting a bit with the Apollo kid, finally remembering his name, and him suggesting to spend more time together once in a while, having enjoyed himself, you bid goodbye and immediately went back to find Connor, still a bit embarrassed by the public scene, which you still wished to have avoided.

Though, not being able to find Connor anywhere, you decided to ask his brother if he had seen him.

"Connor? I think I saw him going outside just a few minutes ago. If you see him, tell him to come inside quickly, will you? It's like freezing out there, and I don't even think he took his coat with him"

You thanked Travis, grabbed Connor's coat, which he left in the cabin (by demand of his older brother), and went outside as well, hoping to catch up with the latter, wherever he went to.

Travis was right. It was indeed freezing, and in the time you spent in the Hermes Cabin, it also had begun to snow. Realising this, your heart couldn't help but to warm up a little. You absolutely loved snow, especially in this time of the year, only adding more to the Christmas spirit already strong around the Camp.

You eventually found Connor after a while near the beach, the sand now mixing with the snow that was falling, secretly thanking the Gods that he didn't go into the forest or it would've been probably impossible to find him.

He was sitting on a random trench, with his back to you, looking out in the distance, to the stars or the sea you didn't know which, still not having noticed your presence behind him.

So, you carefully went up to him, anxious of approaching, like reaching out for a baby deer who would otherwise get scared if you were too loud. Not only that, but you were also anxious about what to say. He looked upset, and you didn't know why. For how much you tried, you just couldn't think of what could've made him so distressed. Was it something you said? Well, you didn't exactly say anything... was that it? Did he expect you to have said something? Had he wanted to tell you something before you were dragged away by your friends? Maybe it was just the change in the weather that affected him so much. It was always pretty warm at Camp anyway. Maybe it was something that had been going on all day, and you just didn't know. You only first saw him this evening, and he already looked pretty off.

Whatever it could've been, you decided to just go and rip the band-aid off. You would've to ask him directly what was wrong, so you could try and help and comfort him.

You were now not even a few steps behind him, but he was still oblivious of you being there (sometimes you asked yourself how he was still alive with how bad his hearing and reflexes were), so you extended your hand towards him, the one with which you were holding his coat, and poked him on his shoulder, finally capturing his attention.

'Here, put it on, your brother is going to kill us both if you don't', you said, referring to the jacket, trying to relieve some of the tension around the air.

He didn't protest and grabbed the jacket, but he still didn't say anything and turned away immediately, his face impassable.

You set next to him, and for a while, just looked at him, not saying anything. Anxiety filled your stomach up to the point you thought you were going to feel sick. He didn't look only upset anymore but actually mad. Angry. And you were so scared it had to do with something you did. In the fraction of time you used to contemplate on what to say and how to start the conversation you were clearly about to have, he beat you to it and started first.

'Well, thanks for the coat. You can go back now if you'd like', he said, irritated, not once looking at your direction but keeping his eyes fixed on a vanishing point which you still couldn't figure out.

'Is something wrong? You know if something happened you can just tell me, I'm here to help you you know. Just.. please, I don't like to see you like this. You know if it's something I did, I'm sorry, I didn't realise. But just tell me, okay? I'm so sorry if I hurt you in any way.' You were desperate at this point, just hoping this would end soon. You'd never seen Connor this upset, and it quite frankly scared you a bit.

But just then, his gaze softened. He just couldn't stay mad at you, not like this, not seeing how much stress this caused you. He wasn't even mad at you. He could never be mad at you, not even if his life depended on it, he thought.

'No, I'm sorry, okay. Really. Just forget about it, I'm overreacting. It's nothing'. Although his voice was sincere, he felt like he needed to say more than that, much more, if he wanted to make it better. 'Look.. it's just that.. well. Just give me a moment, will you? I need to think of how to say this right.' It was now his turn to feel anxious, and he started picking at everything he could find to keep calm. His nails, the wood on the trench you two were sitting on, the zipper of his jacket, and so on.

You weren't doing much better, shaking your legs up and down, picking at the skin of your lips, and basically dying of anxiety. If you were exaggerating before, now you definitely weren't. You would've preferred the guillotine over this at any moment.

'Yes, of course, take all the time that you need. I'm here for you.'

And after that, it fell silent. The only sound you could hear were the waves of the sea and the snow falling on the both of you, and in the distance, a bit of the long forgotten party going on in the Hermes Cabin. You were now only waiting for Connor to start speaking. You wanted to say patiently, but it was eating you up inside.

A few minutes went by, and you couldn't take it anymore. You were about to say something before he beat you to it again.

'Okay, so this isn't going to be easy to say, but I want you to listen to me until I'm done. Please. I know I'm not the best speaker in the world, and I really did want to make this more worthy of you, more meaningful, but I'm probably gonna mess things up, so I'm sorry in advance, but just try and listen, okay?' He began, carefully, and you just nodded, following his instruction and waiting for him to continue.

'Okay so, well, I thought this was honestly kind of obvious already - he said this with a smile - but I really like you, and I mean really, since at least a few years I think already. And seeing you with that Apollo kid, I don't know it just made me mad, I thought I couldn't stand a chance against someone like that, so much more talented and what not than me. And not only him, I mean everyone. You're just so perfect in every sense, and I know you could do so much better than me, so I got a bit self-conscious, but that's it. I'm so sorry for worrying you. It really wasn't my intention to be such a dick, but my emotions got the better of me.'

You were left speechless. You really didn't know what to say. Not even a sound could come out of your mouth at that point. Luckily, it didn't have to because Connor went on before you could even think of anything to say.

'No, wait, don't say anything yet. I'm not finished. I want to say it better. This is definitely not how I imagined this. You know I made up so many speeches in my head, practising on what I would tell you if ever came the right moment. But I forgot all of them now, so I'll just have to figure something out,

'I am every second more infatuated by your presence, by your kindness, your beauty. You leave me without breath every time that I see you, and every time, just a bit more than the day before. Every time I look up at the stars, I'm reminded of you, perplexed on how the Gods didn't take you as the inspiration of such creations. Every time I look up at the moon, I can't think of anything else other than how your beauty surpasses even hers, how the reflection of the moonlight on the water isn't just an allegory of you. Because it's something so beautiful that you just can't take your eyes off it. How honey isn't scraped directly from your voice because it's even more sweet and warm than a cup of tea. You fill me with joy of which I've never experienced before, which I didn't even know was real. I'm at every second more and more confused on how all of nature doesn't revolve around you, on how it wasn't created for you and because of you, for at every thing I look at I am every constant reminded of you. If I ever was to meet Aphrodite, I know she would take your appearance and, although I can't dare say you are more beautiful than her or you know what would happen, I can say that in this world and all the universe you are one of the Gods' most beautiful creations. That if it weren't for Prometheus, I would steal the fire just for you, and you only, to keep you warm from days like this one. To keep you warm like you do constantly to me, by just your mere presence, by just an insignificant conversation you could have with me, which I hold dear forever and never forget. What I'm trying to say is that I don't only like you, no... no. I would hold up the sky full of stars and galaxies for you, I would go up to the moon to retrieve your lost items for you, even just to see your smile, to see you happy, to know that you are content. For you have already stolen my soul and hold my heart, I couldn't sell it to the devil, but I would, just to let him promise me to always keep you safe, that nothing could ever touch or hurt you. For you only I think and plan, for you only I ever want to live on. I love you, I really do, and I only hope for you to love me back at your own pace and time. But I could never force you to do anything. If you don't reciprocate my feelings, let's forget about this. Just go on with our daily lives. A simple no, or just a shake of your head, will silence me forever, I won't ever bother you again, I promise. But if there's even just one chance, a little bit of hope that you could give me a try, please don't let me wait for too long. Because how I am to take even one second longer of this I do not know.'

And with this, he stopped talking. He went completely mute, now only waiting for your answer, for a little hope.

But you didn't know what to say, how could after such a speech, such a confession? Anything you would say, even if meaningful, would never compete to something such beautiful and utterly captivating as this.

So you opted for saying exactly that.

'Connor.. I.. I'm really speechless, I don't know what to say, no, everything I would say could never compete with what you just did. I'm so sorry, but I really don't know how to own up to that.' You said with the biggest smile you ever had, which started growing since Connor began to speak.

'No, don't worry about that, just tell me, please. A yes or a no would be sufficient enough.' The poor boy was so stressed, but you couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't you mocking him or anything like that. It was a genuinely happy laugh, like you've never had before. He also started laughing at this, being influenced by you.

'Stop laughing, I'm serious. You're making me sweat cold here.' He said, finally lighting up from his serious stance.

'I'm so sorry, but I just really can't see how you could've become this worked up only because I was singing Last Christmas with some guy. Like, really, from all the songs Last Christmas, that's not even classifiable as a real love song.' At this point, you just couldn't stop laughing, completely captivated, almost not being able to breathe anymore.

'Hey! That's not true. It's one of the greatest love songs ever written. And I'm honestly quite offended you didn't sing it with me, okay. You know how much I love Wham!' Saying this, he also kicked your leg playfully. Finally, the mood was completely lightened up. Now, the interaction being like one of the many you had every day.

'Okay, now on a serious note', you began, and you could see Connor tensing up again, 'yes. And a million times, yes. I really like you, Connor, and I've had probably since I came to this camp. I could even say that I love you too.. but maybe for that, I do need a bit of time. But I do want to give it a try, and more than one if need to. Just don't make anything like that up anymore. Otherwise, I'd just look like a bad girlfriend, okay? I can't even come up with a good speech to convince my dad to let me adopt a cat, even think of confessing my undying love for you. I just think I need a little bit more time than you, but I'll get there eventually, I promise. Just wait until you'll get a Jane Austen type letter under your pillow.' You finally said, as sincere as you could. You were truly so happy, and you think you've never been this happy ever in your life (at least not until your dad would finally cave in and let you get a cat).

Connor, too, was happy. Oh, so happy, he thought he could break out in some type of dance right there and walk up to the sky to get a handful of stars to gift to you. But that was impossible, so he opted to wrap an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

And like that, you stayed for a while, just you two together under the snow looking up at the stars and into the horizon.

'Don't worry, if we ever move in together, we're gonna adopt not one cat, but at least twenty, be sure of that.' He said.

Okayy this is it! I really hope you like this. omg, it came out so much longer than I was expecting. Also im so sorry it took so long to write but I was really busy with school! Also im honestly very happy about the ending. Hope you guys like it!

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fromabasementonthehilll · 8 months

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My Girlfriend Is a Witch (pt.1)

͙⁺･༓☾ - Summary: after finding the cabin, lottie ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎had begun acting weirder than usual.

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Warnings: ...

Pt.2

a/n: thinking of making this into 2 or 3 parts?? this is more of a build up so I'm sorry if it's a bit slow!

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

It had been a week, maybe more, after the crash. You counted the days - believing it wasn't long until you would all be found and saved. Everyone followed the same belief, but it slowly began to lose its appeal as the days got longer and there was no promise of rescue, and you had lost track anyway.

Misty had treated you alongside everyone else, she wrapped your gashed shoulder up with a bandage out of some emergency aid kit in the planes cabinet, which you had been unwrapping everyday to keep clean. It was fine at first, but the shortages of antibiotics and extra bandages had it healing much slower than it should've, it hurt like a bitch and you were putting up the best 'tough' act you could to avoid adding anymore stress to the situation.

You sat outside of the cabin on a broken log, setting up fire to cook dinner, faintly smelling the herbs in the air that Mari managed to find whilst the others were either doing laundry or getting water from the nearby lake. Lottie hadn't been doing much, though. Her mind was in a different place ever since the crash, you noticed as she began to act differently recently, but you thought nothing of it - everyone else had been stressed, unorganised and tired, so why would it be out of the ordinary for Lottie to feel the same?

You and Lottie began dating a month before the flight, she had confessed to you one day after practice - you watched panic on her face as she barely managed to get her words out, before you laughed in reassurance and told her you felt the same way. Neither of you had told anyone about your relationship and wanted to keep it that way - it wouldn't benefit you or her.

"Hey, you okay?" she came up to you, sitting on the log opposite of the one you sat on, her expression ardent each time she saw you.

"Yeah, is Shauna done with the meat yet?" You asked, feeling hunger eat away at your stomach. "No I don't think so, she's trying to get Jackie to do something," she explained, "I'm sure she'll be done by the time you set up the fire, though." you nodded, giving up on rubbing sticks for the time being. "You look real good for someone who's stranded in the wilderness, y'know" she laughed, watching you trying to rub off the ash from last nights fire, "Shut up, Lottie" you teased with the same toothy smile she loved.

It took you a while to get used to the new situation, though more often than not you were helping around with things. In around 5th grade your parents thought it was a good idea to get you into girl scouts, you partially hated them for it - the uniform sucked and you'd always be covered in dirt. You had been mentally reciting the folklore stories told by the counsellors; as the wilderness caved in some of your old memories, often wondering if they had any truth to them. You stayed there until you turned 14, learning a bunch of survival skills that you brushed off as stupid, it was ironic how useful they were now.

"Lot, how are you?" You hadn't asked that in ages, too preoccupied with surviving, just as everyone else had been. Lottie's breath hitched, knowing she wasn't fine at all, considering her meds ran out. "I'm fine, I just missed you (y/n)." She smiled sheepishly, suppressing the doubt she had in her own words. She truly did miss you, the distance that brewed between you two wasn't as bad as it could've been, but she needed you the most right now.

You could sense her unease, standing up to sit next to her, "You can talk to me, you know that right?" You moved your hand towards hers, smiling warmly as you looked at each other. her eyes were filled with anguish, her jaw clenching before she spoke,

"Promise you won't think I'm weird?"

"I promise."

You leaned towards her, watching as she tucked her hair behind her ear before letting loose of her worry, "I've had these strange visions," Her gaze was diverted to the floor, "and I've been hearing things." she shook her head in disbelief, almost shocked; confused. "What kind of visions?" You kept your eyes on her, not thinking any less of her. "I don't know, it's like I can see what happens before it happens." She gave you a sorry look, you opened your mouth to speak before being interrupted by Shauna, "Here." Jackie stood behind her as Shauna handed you the meat, looking at it in complete disgust.

Lottie wasn't given the opportunity to offer you an explanation, but it made sense to you, considering her strange act for the past week.

The night grew colder than the last, you had been sleeping in the attic with lottie for the past few days to prove it wasn't haunted, and you struggled to keep heat upstairs. "Just sleep here, near the fire." Shauna stated after you had tried to haggle for more blankets, you refused, though, wanting to spend more time with Lottie and keep an eye on her after she had opened up to you. "well feel free to come downstairs, there's always room." she finished, laying down the pillows.

You climbed the ladder to see lottie already there, facing the window - illuminated by the moon and stars. sitting behind her, you spoke, "Another vision?" It was a couple days after she had spoken to you about them, and she told you what she could. They weren't too frequent, but when they happened you'd stay close to her.

"I heard a baby crying this time, it went on and off for a while, but I cant figure it out." Her words were cold and hurt. You were the only one who knew about her newfound state, since you swore not to tell anybody to avoid Lottie seeming crazy to the others, and that's why you tried your best to understand, to help her. but often your help was useless, you figured it might've just been a trauma response to the crash, and you stuck around. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind, bringing your body close to hers and resting your head on the back of her neck.

"Things'll gonna be okay, Lottie." Your voice was warming, bringing slight comfort to her discomfort.

You two sat there for a while, your eyes resting as she gazed at the night sky, before she turned to face you. "What if they won't be?" She bit her lip, making constant eye contact with you. She'd wear your jewellery often, you assumed it just got lost in the crash until you noticed, but she just wanted you close to her when you weren't around, and talking to each other for more than a minute was rare lately, so she had resorted to constant distress and longing.

She couldn't risk hurting you as a result of her own disturbance, just like she had before, and she subconsciously needed your reassurance that things wouldn't go that way.

"Why would you think that?" You shook your head, seeing Lottie avert her gaze to your shoulder, "Because things haven't been in our favour for a while." Her feelings were daunting to figure out, you looked up at her with sad yet hopeful eyes. "Stressing about it isn't gonna make it any better, Lot." You chuckled lightly, sensing tension brewing and wanting to avoid her mind going back into the dark place it would often wander to. She smiled in return, her eyes softening at your remark. "Hey do you remember when we would go on those road trips? you'd be so tired driving, I'd have to remind you not to crash into a tree" Lottie spoke, you saw her jaw soften and heard her laugh filling the wooden room, "And you would play shitty music just to rile me up," You added, "What?? I played it because I liked those songs (y/n), don't judge me,"

You two would often drive to seattle in your old beaten up sedan to visit your family, though you'd always make sure to turn it into a full blown camping roadtrip each time - since Washington was on the complete opposite side of New Jersey.

"You think we can go again after we're back home?" It didn't even cross your mind that Lottie thought there was chance of rescue, you were taken aback for a moment. When Lottie was with you something would alter inside of her, as if everything negative she ever believed had dissipated, you gave her hope.

"We'll go wherever you want."

She smiled a moment before her eyes looked up to yours and then down to your lips - then back to your eyes again, she kissed you and you could've sworn you felt religion in her lips; how they caressed yours with trails of grace.

"Are you fucking kidding me lottie?? what's gotten into you?" A riled up voice spat under lottie who had just stood there. "Nat, calm down." Shauna intervened, you walked out of the cabin, rubbing your puffy eyes as they adjusted to the light, woken by the voices after the best sleep you'd had in a while. "What's going on?" You looked towards Nat and Lottie.

"Lottie's acting like she's in The Craft or something, sort her out before she casts a spell on one of us." Natalie faced you with annoyance, your bottom lip slightly hung out - still half asleep. Everyone knew something was up with Lottie after she bashed her head into the window, it wasn't that much of a secret after all. Most were worried and you could tell, and so Natalie's reaction had you confused, you looked around to see everyone waiting for your response.

"She's been through a lot, like the rest of us. just leave her alone, Nat." You sighed, everyone went back inside - Natalie flailing her arms as you gestured for Lottie to follow you somewhere deeper into the forest. "What happened? are you okay?" You stopped amongst the woods, "Yeah, fine." she looked distressed and distant, crossing her arms, "Just ignore her, she didn't mean it," Lottie cut you off as her rushing thoughts came out,

"But what if she's right? what if I really am going crazy?"

"You're not crazy Lottie, you're just as fucked as the rest of us, nothing more." Your reassurance seemed to get through to her, your words meant the world to her and you knew it.

"You don't think there's something wrong with me?" Her face was almost pale, skin rough and almost loving eyes.

"Oh my god, of course not," you faltered into a feathery smile, "You're perfect, Lottie." You watched as her face began to regain her warm colour, softening at your words. Sometimes it felt like the world stopped around you when you were near her, you would've done anything - just to see her okay again, and she would've done anything to see you carefree and happy, just like you used to be.

She looked to the ground, laughing in relief while small tears left her eyes. "And I'm the sappy one?"

"Yeah okay, I'm not the one who wrote a love letter as an apology," She slapped your shoulder and you kept giggling like a maniac, before you were stopped dead in your tracks by Misty carrying an empty water bucket, "Are you two planning on helping?" One hand on her hip and the other holding out the bucket, "It's unfair to think you're exempt from helping when we should all be-"

"Jeez okay we'll fill it up." Lottie suppressed her laughter the best she could, running to take the bucket from an impatient Misty.

After getting back to the cabin, you settled on the living room floor with a blanket and a book. You never read books much before, however somehow it had become a routine by now.

"What're you reading?" Lottie asked, sliding down next to you.

"To the Lighthouse, Virgina Woolf. I found it in one of the drawers in the attic."

"Any good?" You never took Lottie as a reader, her interests only really came to surface when you would talk about yours, "I'll finish it and let you know." You looked at her with a smile, closing the book and resting it to the side for the time being.

Your mouth was filled with sickening sweetness as you chewed on the last of your food, which just happened to be the gummies your mom packed you 'for the road'.

There was no food left, and your hunger began to yearn for something else - someone else.

And her winter was cursed with your bewitchment,

the loving haze which she had caused upon you herself.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie x reader #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #yellowjackets oneshot

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attractive-nuisance-esq · 6 months

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Ed’s journey this season is going to perfectly mirror addiction and recovery, and I am so fucking here for it. Watching these first three episodes of S2 was like watching a highly dramatized AU of my own descent into rock bottom (except everyone was dressed wayyyyyy cooler than I ever was), so I have a lot of thoughts, reactions, and insights that I want to share with other fans. I’m sure many of us who have struggled with our mental health connected with Ed in these episodes, but I think addiction is the most appropriate lens through which to view him because addicts (more often than people who struggle with other mental illnesses) so wholly destroy their own lives and utterly devastate those of their loved ones. I want to share - from the perspective of someone who has steered her own ship straight into a storm and woke up alone to face some very hard choices - what is going on with Ed at the start of this season and what I think is coming.

Let me start by saying that Ed isn’t literally addicted to any one thing, despite his heavy use of drugs and alcohol, but his goal is the same as that of all addicts: escape. He does not want to sit with the pain of Stede leaving him on an immediate, surface level; on a deeper, more habitual level, he doesn’t want to sit with the pain of his own self-loathing. Of course the two are related: the former brings the latter to a head. Stede abandoning him dredges up and brightly illuminates all of his insecurities, and now Ed has to run. Get out. Escape. Don’t think about it. So he is fighting, stealing, drinking, snorting, shooting, killing - whatever it takes to not think about it.

“Demon? I’m the fuckin’ devil.” People in recovery often talk about addiction as if it were a separate, sentient monster living within them. Ed taking on the mantle of demon - a creature known specifically for possession, for removing the host’s free will - is intentional. So is his insistence that he’s not just any demon but the demon. The worst there is. (More on that when we get to The Innkeeper.)

Izzy’s confrontation of Ed in the captain’s cabin and then on deck is a form of intervention. Izzy is trying to help Ed, but of course this goes terribly for him and for Ed because interventions (I cannot stress this enough) are maybe the worst thing you could do to an addict. All addicts know things are bad, but they cannot be pushed to change one single second before they’re ready. Ed knows things are bad. He’s well-aware of how he’s spending his time, how his crew feels about him, how disappointed Izzy is. Being confronted with all of those truths by Izzy was always only going to make him do two things: 1) dig further into his unhealthy coping mechanisms, never mind that they don’t have nearly the effect that they used to; and 2) lash out at the person who forced him to think about it. Izzy lost his leg the moment he stepped into Ed’s cabin.

The impossible bird. You guys remember the song Chandelier by Sia? The one about her addiction to alcohol? The whole thing may as well come right out of Ed’s mouth at the end of that first episode, because that experience is exactly what he’s trying to convey to Frenchie. Nevermind that Frenchie has the temerity to tell him the bird can’t exist, that it has to come down sometime, that flying forever isn’t sustainable. The bird can come down on its own terms, or crash… but Frenchie’s definitely not going to say that much. Still, “that sounds like something that can’t exist” hits Ed, and leads us to the next episode.

Now we’ve got Ed forlorn, heartbroken, almost catatonic while playing with his cake toppers. We don’t actually see him crying in the opening of the episode, which is the point. He’s done crying now. The impossible bird can’t exist, and Ed has already resigned himself to this. He’s decided to die. The only sure-fire permanent way to not think about it.

When next we see Ed, he seems to be doing better, but this is a huge red flag for anyone who knows to look. He’s giving away his responsibility to Frenchie; he’s cleaning the cabin for the closure. He knows the end is coming fast, and the relief that knowledge brings him leaves him weirdly at peace. It is he eeriest part of these episodes, IMO.

Then he goes to find his first mate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world, the man he just fucking shot and ordered killed. Ed needs his low opinion of himself validated, and of course he thinks he’ll get it from Izzy after everything he’s done to him. He wants the one person who has stuck with him through everything to confirm that he’s now irretrievably broken and no longer worthy of his love. Ed wants someone to tell him that he’s right: he should die.

He doesn’t get that from Izzy. Interestingly, Izzy doesn’t tell him he should die. He says “Clean up your own mess.” Izzy has learned the lesson now that Ed isn’t ready to get better and that he can’t make him be ready. (This post isn’t about Izzy, but hoo boy - I have big feels about that man.)

Ed has been indulging in various forms of self-destruction in order to not feel his feelings, and steering the ship into the storm is his worst indulgence yet. This is the worst of his crimes - not beheading or arson or a red wedding. It’s when he tries to bring down everyone who has ever loved him into his misery, into believing what he believes. The audience generally (and Ed’s audience of Stede specifically) can forgive him for hurting strangers and for the non-specific mayhem whose victims we’ve never met; but it is much less certain that anyone will forgive him for hurting the only family he’s ever known.

The storm itself is the perfect metaphor for Ed’s attempt on his and, incidentally, everyone else’s lives. One of the most common metaphors used by friends and family members of addicts is that of a hurricane: that their addicted loved-ones tend to destroy everything they touch, anyone who was foolish or brave enough to stick around. And, like hurricanes, addicts aren’t malicious. Ed’s primary goal here is to get himself killed, not to kill everyone else. He wants the ship to go down so his death is certain. His firing a cannonball into the mast and asking Jim and Archie to fight to the death isn’t malice: it’s utter and complete nihilism. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing and no one. The end is near, and he’s so fucking drunk and high off these distractions that he couldn’t think about it if he tried. He’s manic with relief. (See also: “Finally.”)

And now for the finale: Purgatory. Buckle up, because this is where the addiction analogy gets real *chef’s kiss.* Purgatory is the equivalent of the morning after the worst, most rock bottom binge night of your life. You wake up with no one for company but the ghosts of your former selves. Now what?

Well, first - who is Hornigold to Ed? Why is he the guy Ed sees? It’s because Hornigold is another addict, if you will, but one who is (in this Purgatory hallucination) farther along in his recovery. He can impart some wisdom from that place, but he can also stand in as someone Ed can loathe because they’re not as different as Ed once thought, even if Hornigold can say he’s grown.

Hornigold tries to give him soup. He tells Ed, “Gotta get these nutrients into you,” and then literally shoves soup down his throat. That’s what it’s like in rock bottom. You don’t want to take care of yourself, but some lizard brain survival instinct takes over and makes you drink water, eat a piece of fruit, take yourself to the hospital. These things don’t really happen voluntarily that morning after, but you can still count on that instinct to kick in with some damage control.

Ed telling Hornigold how he “got here.” Hornigold says “Mutiny. It’s always mutiny.” Ed insists his mutiny was special, worse somehow. This whole scene is exactly what happens in your first recovery support group meeting. You go in thinking no one has ever been as fucked and fucked up as you are, which makes you feel isolated and alone. But then you get there and everyone else in the circle has done the same shit, been through the same shit. Ed’s not actually the devil; he’s just another demon, like many demons before him.

Ed worries he’s insane when he reflects on everything he’s done. Hornigold’s reply that “Feeling bad isn’t going to rebuild an abdominal wall” is a concept that people usually learn a little bit later in recovery, so I expect we’ll see more on this theme from Ed. Guilt is a useless emotion that only serves to conversely make the addict feel better but doesn’t help the harmed party: the addict feels like their suffering is cleansing, but it’s not - feeling guilt is just more self-indulgence, more self-destruction. Hornigold - a fellow addict in this moment - is trying to get this lesson to him early. It’ll return.

“You’ve got to move on or blow your brains out.” We’re getting back to Purgatory as the metaphor for the morning-after rock bottom, because this is the exact calculation that every person in recovery has done. They all had to answer that one big question. Your whole life is a mess, and you made the mess. Do you want to clean it up? Or quit? (Or make some soup? Yeah. That big question can’t be answered without basic needs having been met. So let’s eat. Let’s start there. It’s easier.)

Now we have Ed’s fantasy about opening an inn: This is also a common part of the morning-after rock bottom. You start thinking about the wrong turns you took, the mistakes you made, the way your life was supposed to go and all the reasons you’re not where you wanted to be. (And all the people you can blame for the fact that your life didn’t go as planned.) And when that honest part of yourself starts telling you that actually it’s all your fault… well, a) you don’t wanna hear it, and b) you can’t silence (kill) that monster, no matter how hard you try. You’ve got to face it. Face all those truths you’ve been running from for years. Now you have to think about it.

So now the big question, the inevitable math. Hornigold suggests looking at the pros and the cons. That’s the easiest way to break the calculation into manageable variables. This is probably my favorite moment of the episode, because when you’re sitting there, morning after the worst night of your life, everything is fucked - these are the exact variables that go into your equation. Do I really want to live? You ask yourself that, and because your life is in fucking shambles, you come up with the stupidest goddamn reasons to keep going. You wanna see the next seasons of Good Omens and Loki. You wanna eat your mom’s spaghetti again. Sometimes it’s nice when someone hugs you. It’s never the big things that save your life; it’s a bunch of the littlest things. The smallest comforts. The big things… they’re too unattainable. They’re too much to hope for, and they’re more than you could possibly deserve. What are the pros of living for Ed? Warmth, good food, orgasms. This is a stunningly accurate representation of the things that will keep you alive once you’ve hit rock bottom.

And then the cons: “I don’t think anyone is waiting for me.” This is why addiction is the better metaphor. There is no human experience more isolating than addiction. You are alone in more ways than you’ve ever been before. You have pushed away or pissed off everyone who ever cared about you. And even the ones who will maybe still be there for you - they can’t help you clean up the mess you’ve made. You have to do the work alone, even if they’re still willing to stand next to you. And this con… it’s the scariest one. Your list of little pros looks so pathetic next to the horror of being utterly fucking alone. Who is going to brave that for some stupid shit like Tom Hiddleston sexily flipping his hair back in that Loki way he does? Why should Ed carry on just because blankets are cozy and marmalade is pleasant?

This is where we get to the moment on the mountain, and what Stede represents. Hornigold tells Ed “You’re unlovable, and you’re afraid to do anything about it.” Ed could do two things about being unlovable: He could try to fix it, or he could end it all. Hornigold represents the worst part of Ed: his weaknesses and cowardice. And if Hornigold is in the driver’s seat, he’s going to end it all. He throws the rock off the cliff, and Ed gets dragged down into the water to drown. (Let’s also talk later about how often addiction is compared to drowning, and how nothing else in the show actually threatened Ed’s life - not Izzy with a gun, not all the rhino horn, not Jim’s cannonball - like drowning in his own mind.)

But then there’s Stede. Stede is how the pros win over that one big, horrifying con. Stede is hope. Stede is just a glimmer of hope. Hope is the most important thing you need in the morning-after rock bottom. As much as I enjoy the idea that it was love that saved Ed, I don’t think that’s a wholly faithful interpretation. Because Stede’s love for Ed doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t fix anything - it certainly doesn’t fix Ed. It cannot fix Ed. Hornigold just told Ed that he’s the one who has to “do something about it,” because Ed is the only one who can save himself. But even if Stede’s love for him in itself isn’t what saves Ed, Ed’s trust in Stede combined with that love gives him hope. Stede loves Ed, truly loves him, came back to him even though he knows Ed’s nature, knows his list of crimes, knows what he’s done to Stede’s friends and family. And maybe Ed can find in himself what he trusts Stede truly sees. It’s a “maybe,” not a certainty. But it’s hope. Someone loves him. Maybe he can love himself, too.

This Woman’s Work: I read this song as referring more appropriately to Ed’s relationship with himself, in no small part because Ed literally made himself the woman in the cake topper couple. All the things that should have been done, should have been said - they’re things Ed needs to do and say to himself. He’s got a little life and a lot of strength left. The journey has just begun.

I want to pop back quickly to a few other moments in The Innkeeper that resonated, starting with Stede and Izzy’s discussion about what happened to Ed: “He went mad. He was a wild dog.” Izzy describes Ed’s breakdown as if he was no longer the same person he once was; this is exactly what addiction does to a person. Ed hasn’t been himself; he’s been held hostage by his need for escape, and he’s become something else. Possessed, if you will.

Izzy: “You and me did this to him, and we can’t let the crew suffer any more for our mistakes.” I’m not writing an essay on Izzy (yet), but this is a very interesting perspective that says a lot about Izzy. Stede and Izzy both owe apologies to Ed, but they are not responsible for his actions. I predict we’re going to see this theme explored in later episodes as a part of Ed’s healing process and recovery. And also hopefully in Izzy’s growth.

Frenchie’s line that “We’ve been living second-to-second for a while now” is a callback to the impossible bird idea. Which, again, is just Chandelier x Sia. “I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes, keep my glass full until morning light ‘cause I’m just holding on for tonight.”

So what’s next? For me, it was learning to sit alone in a quiet room with my thoughts. It was apologizing to the ones I hurt, because even if I didn’t mean to hurt them - even if I was suffering also and worse - they still got hurt, and in the end it didn’t matter why. It was developing the habit of liking myself, and acting on whatever self-love and affection I could conjure up. And yes… it was new seasons of Good Omens and Loki, my mom’s spaghetti, and hugs.

So I think Ed has a lot of accountability, reflection, and breaking of old habits in his future… but also warmth, good food, and orgasms. And good for him. That’s the beauty of recovery: we get to come back.

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crushedsweets · 3 months

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PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING ABOUT NİNAKATE RELATİONSHİP DYNAMİC I'M STARTING TO LOVE THIS SİHP

nina and kate didn't know eachother for a long time. when they first met, nina was deep in her relationship with jeff. she was at a really low point, super dramatic and emotional and constantly fighting for attention, glamor, material goods, and men to prove her self worth (or further deteriorate it..)

meanwhile kates been lost in that forest for years. her closest friend is Toby, and even that's largely built on both being the 'runt' of the proxies. she occasionally works on the farm with the animals, rarely ever goes out in public, sleeps on fucking coal and dirt every other night.

so i'll talk about how they first met!

Nina and Kate's first meeting is a fucking MESS.

nina would be wandering through the forest, headphones in and music blaring. she'd be on her way to hang out with Toby and Clocky, so excited she's practically bouncing off the fucking trees.

she's oblivious to kate watching her for the last 10 minutes. until, of course, she catches a glimpse of her. all she sees is dark pants, a blood stained white-hoodie, black shaggy hair.... she thinks its jeff.

this would already be pushing her luck, but she hadn't seen jeff in a couple weeks. so she'd quickly start running to the figure, laughing and waving her arms and being way too excited. she'd try to throw herself into a hug, only to be met with a hand on her throat and getting slammed into a tree.

kate would ask who the fuck she is, what she thinks shes doing there, something something 'are you fucking stupid? youre gonna get eaten alive' something. nina would probably be in a lot of shock, just grabbing kate's hand to alleviate the pressure on her throat, lifting her knees so kate couldnt get too close. the fear couldnt meet the embarrassment, though, especially when kate gets torn off of her by toby. did he HAVE to watch that happen?

toby would shout something at kate, smack the back of her head and tell her not to put her hands on nina. 'thats my fucking friend you dumbass' etc etc etc.

while kate is a fucking SOLDIER working for O/S, she's really docile towards the other proxies. just keeps her head down and scoots away, not another word. then listen to toby now scold nina for stupidly walking through the forsest like that. "i told you to WAIT at the railroad, not get your ass killed looking for me"

toby would just take nina to hang out with clocky, like they originally planned, but nina could NOT get kate off her mind.

and the feeling is returned tenfold. kate hasnt seen a girl like nina in a long, long, LONG time - if ever, really. flashy, bubbly, makeup and glitter and lipstick and pink and purple and gold and jesus christ nina is an anomaly in a place like that.

it would haunt kate for weeks, until she ends up meeting nina again at the cabin and finally ushers out an apology (demanded by toby). and with nina's warmth and affection and forgiveness, kate goes back to the mines sick to her stomach wishing she could see nina again. just wants to look at her for a while. marvel at her.

#ninakate #i know...its not a very sweet meetcute #but its all i think about. theyre so messy and terrible at friendships and crushes and love and everything #asks

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static-symphony-fm · 8 days

Text

you are in love (true love)

now playing: you are in love (taylor's version)

pairing: magnus chase x fem! reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: 5 people who knew magnus was in love with you before you did + 1 sword

an: FIRST FANFIC LETS FUCKING GOOOOO this took so long to write! I love how I accidentally made it blue themed even though that's magnus's least favorite colour 😭 its ok we all know he's canonically a 1989 girly

fun fact i actually took the first picture! i shit you not I was on a road trip with my family READING MAGNUS CHASE and I look up and see THAT SIGN and i SCRAMBLED to take a picture

content/ warnings: 5+1 things, background blitzstone bcs c'mon they're basically canon, shitty writing, kissing ooo spooky, magnus being a simp, there actually isn't a whole lot of reader in this x reader fic, minor allusions to sex stuff, a lot of swearing, weird use of perspective, i was trying to go for third person limited but magnus is the one it's limited to not reader? but reader is referred to using second person? sorry if it's confusing.

1. samirah al-abbas

if someone had told magnus a year ago that in a couple month’s time, meeting for coffee weekly with one of his best friends and not getting kicked out of the overpriced coffee shop was going to be the most normal thing in his life, he wouldn’t have believed them. probably would have flipped them off, too, and stole their wallet as he walked away. but he’d like to think that he was a changed man, seeing as he was, in fact, in a hipster café in boston, trying not to make fun of all the fancy menu options. like, seriously? who orders a dragon fruit, pomegranate, and kale smoothie?

he realized he’d been thinking for too long and returned his attention to samirah, sitting across from him and discussing wedding plans for her upcoming marriage to amir as she sipped her latte. he noticed the way her eyes seemed to get brighter, and her entire body language conveyed how excited she was as she talked about him. magnus had a fleeting thought about how good it must feel to love someone so unconditionally like that, and have them love you back just as much.

as if reading his mind, samirah finished her sentence and studied him, tilting her head as she seemed lost in thought, peering at him like he was a calculus problem she couldn’t quite figure out.

after a few seconds, magnus broke the silence.

“alright, it’s getting weird. why’re you looking at me like that?”

samirah snapped out of it, focusing on what he was saying.

“nothing, just… do you think you’ll ever get married?”

jeez, that was a loaded question. magnus narrowly avoided choking on his black coffee, swallowing and burning his throat before answering.

“sam, i’m dead.”

“so? people get married in valhalla all the time. i have been to a very disproportionate amount of weddings in the two years i worked there.”

“yeah? how many of those end in divorce?”

samirah took a long drink of her coffee, swallowing it slowly as she responded.

“forever is a very long time, and no relationship is perfect, but wouldn’t it be better to have someone to spend that time with?”

“…i guess.” magnus accepted, lost in thought. truthfully, samirah was right, like always. if circumstances were different, if he hadn’t died at sixteen, he could imagine himself getting married. settling down. living in a cabin in the forest with two kids.

a thought came into his mind, entirely of its own accord, of doing all of that with you. your laugh, your soft hair, the way your lips curled up and your eyes widened when you smile. you’d probably be a great mom.

whoa, what the hell? he should definitely not be thinking about getting married to his friend, what the fuck? that is not normal.

he pushed the weird thought out of his mind as best he could, gulping his coffee and focusing on the burning in his throat and not what he was just thinking. samirah had gone back to talking about amir, and magnus was not going to think about marrying you any longer.

2. alex fierro

after nearly getting his head cut off by alex’s garrote for the third time that day, magnus needed a break. alex had decided that magnus needed to learn to fight without the help of jack, and it wasn't going too well for him. he collapsed on the bench next to alex, chugging half a bottle of water before even taking a breath. alex rolled her eyes.

“it’s not that hard, you just aren’t fast enough.”

magnus managed to control himself and not say a snarky comment back, but it was a close call. instead, he ignored her, staring straight ahead and not engaging. unfortunately, you were in his direct line of sight, sparring with mallory only a few metres away. alex picked up on this quickly, nudging his side.

“you like watching y/n fight, huh?” she teased, smirking. damn, why did she have to be so perceptive?

“what? no. shut up.” magnus replied quickly, trying to hide his blush. “i mean… she’s a good fighter. not like i like her or anything like that.”

“mhm. suuuure you don’t.” alex replied, definitely not believing him. fuck.

“i’m telling the truth!” magnus protested. god, how was arguing with alex harder than physically fighting her?

“yeah. did you see her necklace today? pretty, right?”

“she’s not even wearing a neck- fuck.” magnus said instantly, before catching himself.

“go to hell.” he swore, glaring at alex, who was grinning at him in a way that reminded him a little too much of her mother.

“you first.”

3 + 4. blitzen & hearthstone

“magnus? magnus?”

a pale hand reached in front of magnus face, waving and then snapping its fingers, bringing him back to reality. he blinked and looked around at hearth and blitz, sitting across from him in the dining room of the chase space. hearth took his hand back to sign finally, raising his eyebrows sarcastically.

“your head’s way up in the clouds, kid.” blitz remarked, drumming his short, well manicured fingernails on the table, his silver engagement ring glinting. he was right. magnus definitely was pretty out of it lately.

probably thinking about y/n, hearth signed. jeez, why did every conversation he had have to be about you? and no, he most certainly was not thinking about you and your pretty eyes and your delicate hands and the way your ass looked in those jeans you were wearing yesterday… jesus fucking christ, he needed to stop.

he buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly, then raised his head back up so hearth could read his lips, hoping that his blush wasn’t as visible as it felt.

“i am not thinking about her.” he lied through his teeth.

“there’s nothing wrong with having a crush, you know.”

ugh, why did they have to act so much like his dads?

“i don’t have a crush!”

“kid, you’re a terrible liar. everyone can see the way you stare at that girl. now remember, if you’re doing anything intimate, you gotta use protection…”

that’s it. magnus couldn’t stand up from the table fast enough

“nope! this conversation is ending right now. good talk!”

5. annabeth chase

magnus and annabeth had been walking around new york for the past three hours, trying to make up for the ten years spent apart. annabeth had shown him her favorite library, and pointed out a bunch of cool architecture in nearby buildings, with a promise to show him and his friends camp half-blood in the summer.

they were currently taking a break, stopping for lunch at a falafel place that wasn’t quite as good as fadlan’s, but it was still falafel. magnus was enjoying listening to annabeth talk about her architecture projects– she was taking online classes to prepare for the higher level of new rome university’s program.

magnus loved listening to her talk about things he didn’t understand. as a child he’d always thought she was a genius, the way she always solved puzzles and math problems easily. ten years later, that theory still held up, hearing her go on about a bunch of terms he didn’t understand.

“sorry, i’m probably boring you to tears. you wanna talk about something else?”

annabeth offered.

“no, it’s fine… i really don’t have a lot going on.” magnus replied, smiling politely.

“come on. there’s gotta be something interesting.” an idea seemed to come to annabeth.

“you have a crush on anybody?”

magnus swallowed.

“no.”

but he was too slow. those steel gray eyes that matched his own were locked on him like a hawk, or maybe an owl.

“yes, you do. come on. spill!”

magnus stayed silent. he was not telling his cousin about his crushes, but those metallic eyes stayed locked on him. he eventually gave up. annabeth could be scary when she wanted to be.

“fine. fine. her name’s y/n…”

+1. jack

it was movie night at the chase space. was magnus ever gonna stop calling it that? no. it was cool. shut up. the credits were rolling on some disney movie that alex had insisted on, and everyone else was slowly but surely making their way to their rooms, yawning as they said their good nights. you had been sitting next to magnus on the couch the whole time, and suffice it to say that he had had some trouble concentrating on the film.

it was just you and him, you in your nirvana t-shirt and gray sweat shorts, and in that moment, he decided to tell you.

you got up to leave, waving at him, and in a feat of bravery so incredible it would be studied by historians for centuries to come, magnus managed to work up the nerve to speak up.

“hey, uh, can i talk to you for a sec?”

“sure? what’s up?” you asked as you sat back down.

jesus, what had he gotten himself into? it’s ok, magnus, you got this. you beat loki in a flyting. you can talk to a pretty girl.

“uh, i was just thinking… i just…” off to a great start, aren’t we? fuck off, voice in his head. he can do this. he took a deep breath.

“i really like you. you're gorgeous and funny and so insanely smart. i’m an atheist but i’m praying to god you feel the same way. will you be my girlfriend?”

you bit your lip, breaking eye contact as you looked off into the distance. fuck. you were gonna say no and then he was never gonna be able to talk to you again and he was gonna have to change his name and move to canada…

“can i kiss you?”

what.

there were a million things magnus expected you to say, but that was none of them. he managed to stutter out a simple “please…” and then you leaned forward and your lips were on his and magnus chase died.

this felt more like the end of his life than being knocked off a burning bridge and drowning did. his heart was beating a million times a second, and he seemed to have forgotten how breathing worked. your lips were softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

he managed to reciprocate a little, mostly acting on instinct, and all he could think about was how astronomically better this was than jackie molotov in the seventh grade.

what was he supposed to do with his hands? he was pretty sure that keeping them at his side was the wrong answer, so he moved one to your waist and the other one to the back of your neck, tangling it gently in your soft hair as his lips moved against yours.

gods, he could have stayed like that until ragnarök, but his stupid sword had to ruin the moment. jack started buzzing on his neck sleepily, seeming to have been woken up ungraciously. he hoped that you couldn’t feel it, but that was pretty unlikely, considering how close you were to him. jeez, he was blushing more and more every time he thought about that.

eventually, you pulled away, smiling a little.

“good night, magnus.”

he nodded, unable to form words, and managed to stand up and walk back to his room, wide eyed, operating on autopilot. he walked into his room and immediately collapsed backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling without blinking, completely still. not a thought passed through his mind for at least ten minutes, till he finally was able to reach up and pull jack’s pendant off of his necklace.

“dude, what happened to blades before babes!?!”

#magnus chase x reader #d.j. flora's corner! 💐🎧🎙📻#magnus chase #percy jackson #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #percy jackson x reader

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goblinwithartsupplies · 10 months

Text

Pjo x dc

Mostly Billy Batson

Hear me out. Captain Marvel/Billy Batson is aware of the Greek gods for obvious reasons.

However he isn’t aware of camp half blood and the fact demigods are still around.

The demigods are very aware of Captain Marvel. Lots of them are jealous of him because he is gets special treatment. A lot of campers think he’s some ancient son of Zeus. Luke castellan wanted to punch him because Captain Marvel had mercury’s blessing.

Captain Marvel/ Billy is basically the gods errand boy. He protects magical places and fixes magic problems. But only when they interact to closely with other pantheons and other magical spheres.

————————————————————————

Billy is a son of Hermes. He doesn't figure out he's a demigod until he comes across Hermes while being captain marvel.

Billy is captain marvel and has to do something with Hermes and they have to be discreet. So Billy powers down. And suddenly Hermes is staring at his 10 year old son.

Hermes: yea we're going to be subtle here. I don't think a 6'4" champion of the gods is going to be very subtle.

Captain Marvel: oh no problem. SHAZAM!

Billy: this subtle enough?

Hermes: BILLY?!?!

Billy: how'd you know my name?

Hermes: I'm not sure how to tell you this kiddo but l'm your father.

Billy a homeless child who has seen weirder at this point: cool can I have some money? I'm sorta homeless.

Hermes pulling out a pamphlet for camp half blood: I have a better idea.

————————————————————————

Hermes actually takes Billy to camp personally. The entire camp had an aneurism when they found out that not only Captain Marvel a demigod he’s also like 12.

The Hermes cabin looks at Billy who has been overworked since he became Captain Marvel and is terrified he’ll turn out like Luke. Connor actually gives Billy Luke’s old bunk.

————————————————————————

The Hecate cabin loves Billy because they get to talk about how annoying Constantine is and how awesome Zatana is.

This love strengthens when Billy finds Alabaster running around and Billy lets Alabaster stay in the cave of wonders. (They miss their brother)

————————————————————————

Percy meets Captain Marvel

Percy: so you have the strength of Hercules? AND the stamina of Atlas?

Captain Marvel: yep! I’ve even met them.

Percy pulling out riptide: so have I. You ever heard of Zöe Nightshade?

Captain marvel: no….

Percy: thought not. So the next time you see Hercules you’re gonna…

————————————————————————

Annabeth: the wisdom of SOLOMON! What’s wrong with the wisdom of Athena?!

Billy: I don’t know he isn’t even Greek or Roman! I’m just as confused! Some of them three of them aren’t even gods! They’re demigods and a titan!

Annabeth: and you’re blessed by Mercury but you’re a son of Hermes!

Billy: I know! He says I’m a walking headache.

————————————————————————

Some villain: HA I’ve depowerd you Captain Marvel! Now that you’ve lost your ability to fly you won’t be able to stop me!

Billy: yeah about that. Maia! *winged sneakers start to fly*

Some villain: oh come on!

————————————————————————

the justice league is oddly connected to the gods

Lois Lane is a Daughter of Apollo. Superman gets his powers from the sun think about it.

Oliver Queen and Roy Harper while not demigods are favored by Apollo. Apollo gave them the gift of clear sight. Apollo has flirted with both of them and Lois hates it.

Batfam are demigods mostly of various minor gods. The mist around Gotham is really weak. Most Gotham demigods never go to camp because Gotham has its own system for demigods. Gotham demigods are aware of ALL the pantheons.

Bruce is a Roman legacy of Nox (Nyx) and Pavor (Phobos). Self explanatory. He only served a few years in camp Jupiter saying that he had a mortal life to deal with aka Batman stuff.

Alfred has a small altar dedicated to Hestia/Vesta both in the kitchen and by a fireplace in the batcave

Steph is such a Hermes kid. Cluemaster is her step father but she didn’t know that until she was claimed. She is a distant legacy of Apollo through her mother.

Dick is a son of Hebe. He never looks over 23. His parents are still his parents it’s more of a 3 parents situation.

Jason is a son of Nemesis and a legacy of the Celtic god Ogma (knowledge god) I also like the idea of him being a son of Hermes. Imagine Hermes picking up Jason’s soul when he died.

Tim is a distant legacy of Athena and a son of Nike.

Harley Quinn is a defendant of Dionysus specifically of his god of madness form.

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the-s1lly-corner · 4 months

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creepypastas of your choice being new parents (reader can be included or not, or the reader can BE the kid. either works)

Eyeless Jack, Slenderman, and Jeff as dads/dad figures

getting silly with it. last request in the inbox, might write some other stuff later today for myself but idk we'll see, admins feeling a little sleepy RAAAAAAH no real mentions of reader i think, just the characters being dads but there might be vague mentions of partners so you can imply that is reader. shrugs. i tend to write these notes before actually writing the post this was originally going to have laughing jack but then i got bummed out when i realized that jack would not make a good solo parent simply because hes too chaotic accidentally swapped from saying "the kid" to "you" midway through writing this but im too tired to fix it so uhuh im making it everyone elses problem/j

SLENDERMAN:

by default i think slenderman can be an okay dad and im purely basing this on the fact that i grew up on the 2010s era of the fandom where quotev quizzes and fics for the fandom were peak. i think in the beginning he would be a little lost, especially if hes going to be raising the kid alone. i mean hes a solitary creature that rarely connects with others, he knows knowing about raising a human child. and thats assuming the kid is even human. if he has a kid with a human reader, are they more human or more... creature..? are they a hybrid? how much of slendermans genetics carry over? can he even have children since admin personally thinks he was made by zalgo like all other demons in this timeline? many questions. protective and strict dad, makes sure the kid does their work and chores, but makes sure he doesnt raise a pushover... definitely hostile towards anyone who harasses the kid, be it bullying or generally just being a douchebag. i think if hes the sole parent he raises them in the woods and teaches them things himself. doesnt bother with putting the child through schooling, theyre a child of the woods now babey!!/hj

look at it this way the kid is really self sufficient and can survive in the wilderness for an extended period of time and they know how to kick butt, assuming they also grow up with his proxies. yeah.. thats going to be interesting... would they see them as uncles or as sibling or family friends? its anyones guess. bonus father figures!!

EYELESS JACK:

also does not know what hes doing. i think i wrote somewhere that jack would put the baby in a carrier and walk around with them in the woods. maybe even showing them different animals and plants even if he knows that the kid cant understand him. definitely a case where hes going to need someone else to help him, be it his partner if theyre still around, or someone else... naturally its going to be harder to find someone to help him if his partner is out of the picture for one reason or another. main reason because that jack is... oh you know, literal man eating demon who sometimes goes into blind feeding frenzies if he gets hungry enough + he tries to put off feeding for as long as possible because it literally means taking a life and he still has his humanity in there. not going to say it out right but i think you guys can put two and two together and understand why jack is wary about having a small child hanging around his cabin. also he wants the kid to be able to grow up around other people. its unlikely, since the other person is likely going to be another creepypasta character because any normal person would rat him out... but he might also want the kid to have a 'normal' upbringing. lots of feelings here for him. kind of like a tired dad, between juggling the child and the things going on with him is really going to do a number on him. giggling at the idea of him trying to get slender to help him esp since i hc they have weird territorial beef going on

JEFF THE KILLER:

actually has a decent grasp of how to treat them but thats because he had liu/was an older brother. the dynamic is less father child and more so older brother younger sibling. probably lets you have a fair amount of free reign; he doesnt really strike me as a strict guardian. probably forgets to pick you up from soccer practice/j ....actually wait no i can kind of see him actually doing that on accident. tries to make it up to you by giving you treats because he does kind of feel bad for leaving you behind. you remind him a lot of his brother. im still torn on whether or not liu is still alive in my silly au but imagine hes not and he kind of. tries to raise you good and treat you well to make up for everything that happened. jeff with some level of mental clarity after the height of everything hits me in a weird sad way i can quite describe. like dont get me wrong hes still the knife wielding dude hes usually written as, but hes a little.. just a tiny bit mellowed out. just a tad.. side note i fully blame the idea of jeff being remorseful over murdering liu from a fic that had a chokehold on me in middle school so oooo... you probably know/interact with ben through jeff since theyre good friends. jumping into my personal hc/au jeff carries ben around in a phone since bens usually confined to electronics and they grew up together. obviously jeff outgrows ben because. you know ghosts dont grow up. so imagine you start becoming best friends with ben and ben is just. SPILLING so much old stuff on jeff, mostly dumb stuff jeff did and him being a jackass. idk i just think thats funny. its like when you suddenly get dad lore but instead of getting it from your dad you get it from dads ghost best friend

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #slenderman x reader #slenderman x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you

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avastrasposts · 11 months

Text

The Pilot and his girl - ch 11

Now we're getting into the fun part! 😋 The metaphorical shit is about to hit the fan as Frankie and our reader get ready for their one year anniversary on September 26, 2013. I had a lot of "fun" writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it even though I'm now taking a seriously hard left turn with this series, away from the fluffy little bubble I've wrapped us in. The warnings will contain spoilers so I've put them in a separate post and will update them as I go: Warnings

Word count: 6.2 k

Chapter 12

Chapter 1, if you want to catch up from the beginning

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories

“Cariño! I’ve got to go now, come kiss me!” Frankie calls through the apartment as he pulls on his boots, hastily tying them up before he tugs on his jacket. “Carinooooooo!” he wails, “come kiss me goodbye, I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me!”

You spit out the toothpaste and rush to rinse your mouth, before opening the bathroom door, looking over at your baby of a boyfriend who’s currently standing by the door, bag in hand, making puppy eyes at you. “Cariñoooooo!" he wails impatiently while you pad over to him on bare feet, shaking your head.

“You’re such a baby, Francisco Morales,” you wrap your arms around his neck as he bends down and gives you a wet kiss on your lips before trailing more wet kisses down your throat.

“I can’t leave if you don’t kiss me,” he gives you a fake pout as he stands up. “You’re sure you’re ok to pack everything up on your own? I’ll be back as soon as possible so we can just load into the truck and go.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I’ll do some laundry and pack the last of the food. Just ring me when you leave work and I’ll be ready to go when you’re back.”

“Ok, hermosa, mi amor, my gorgeous cariño, happy anniversary, my love,” Frankie captures your chin between his thumb and fingers and you smile up at him as he gives you another long kiss.

“Happy anniversary, Frankie, my love,” you mumble against his lips, giggling as he tries to push you up against the door, groping at your ass, “I thought you had to leave.”

“I do, fuck, but I don’t want to,” Frankie sighs, and plants a final kiss on your mouth before he opens the door and heads out, “I’ll see you this afternoon, hermosa,” he smiles, “te amo.”

“Love you too, Frankie.”

You lock up behind him and continue to get ready. The plan is to head out of the city and up to Denny’s cabin as soon as Frankie’s back from work. You’re working from home today to save some time, you’ve set aside manuscripts to read and that’s best done from home anyway.

Frankie had surprised you a couple of weeks ago by telling you he’d asked Denny if you two could borrow the cabin for your anniversary, have a little holiday together. Today was exactly one year since you met at The Outback Bar and it had been the best year of your life thanks to Frankie. A weekend escape, just the two of you at the cabin, sounded like the perfect way to celebrate. To make matters even better you’d closed on a house just a few days ago, all the paperwork signed, you didn’t even have the keys yet, but you’d still spent the past three days mentally decorating the whole place. Frankie had sent Lucía pictures of the house and her room and she’d been over the moon to see the pictures of the pool outside. Now you were planning on throwing your very first Thanksgiving dinner at your new house together with Frankie and Lucía.

You allowed yourself to get lost in daydreams for a while as you finished your breakfast and cleared the kitchen, throwing a load of clothes in the washing machine. While it ran its cycle you sat down at your small home office and went over the manuscript.

Frankie called you just after lunch with bad news.

“I’m sorry, cariño, I think I’ll probably be later than I thought, things are fucking crazy today,” he sighed over the phone. “One of our choppers crashed, we can’t get hold of the pilot, I’m just fucking praying he’s ok, Denny’s on his way out there now.” You can hear him rub his hand over his face, rough against his scruffy beard, “And I’ve got to fly three doctors to different locations, apparently they’re swamped, all kinds of crazy shit happening, it’s like it’s a full moon night but it’s midday.”

“It’s fine, Frankie, just fly safe, you’ll get here when you get here and if it’s too late we’ll drive up tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to be with you all weekend,” he huffs, “Fuck, I’ve got to go, Denny’s on the radio. Talk soon, cariño.” He hangs up before you have a chance to say goodbye.

By the time seven pm rolls around you have everything packed up for the trip to the cabin, you’ve been checking your phone for Frankie’s phone call for the past hour. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said things were crazy today, you’d gone down to the corner store for some snacks for the road and found it closed, shutters down even though it was only five pm, the streets empty. And on your way back to the apartment you’d seen a police car crash into a small car. You’d started running over to the crash to see if you could help but a police man had stumbled from the cruiser and yelled at you to get back inside, to stay away. Something in his voice had scared you and you’d turned back straight away, running back to your building and up the stairs.

Once back in the apartment you’d locked the door and tried calling Frankie, but he didn’t pick up. That wasn’t unusual, he usually couldn’t answer when he was flying, if you really needed to get hold of him you’d call Denny and he’d patch you through on the radio. But you tried Denny too and there was no reply there either, not on his cell or the landline to the airfield.

So now it’s seven pm and you’re getting antsy. There are an extraordinary amount of police sirens outside, the news are talking about riots in the streets downtown, but the footage makes it look more like a warzone and the local news cuts the broadcast when someone attacks the camera man.

At nine you’re pacing the apartment, back and forth between the big window facing the street and the small window in the kitchen overlooking the parking lot. When your phone rings you jump, and relief floods your chest when you see that it’s Frankie. “Frankie, where are you? Did you see the news?” you ask when you pick up, but you’re interrupted by him straight away.

“Cariño, where are you? Still at home?” He sounds stressed and he’s breathing hard.

“Yeah, I’m at home, waiting for you, of course. What’s going on, are you running?” You press your phone to your ear, trying to hear what’s going on around him, you can hear people shouting in the background.

“I was, I’m trying to get away from Washington Park, I…I got into some trouble,” he stutters, “some guy was beating up another guy and I pulled over to stop him, I had to pull him off the other guy but he was fucking crazy, like high on salts or something, never seen anything like it. He came after me and I had to…I’m sorry cariño, I had to…take him out.”

You hear the shame in his voice, you’ve only talked a couple of times about the guy in the bar Frankie beat up because he thought he’d hit you. He knew his skill at violence scared you and he’d done his utmost to prove to you that he wasn’t a violent person. But now he’d had to take this guy out, in self defence, and he was trying to explain it to you.

“Just get home, Frankie,” you say, “we can talk when you get here, just get home.”

“I’m trying, hermosa, but the police turned up and…fuck…hang on.”

You hear his heavy boots shuffling over broken glass and hard ground, he grunts as he seems to move through or over a structure, nearly dropping the phone.

“Ok, I have to keep moving, hermosa,” he pants, “the police turned up and…they thought I’d killed the guy, the didn’t see him beating up the other guy an-”

“You killed him!?” your eyes are wide, you’ve stopped dead in your tracks in front of the big window.

“I don’t know, cariño, the police came, they pulled their guns on me, I had to run and-”

“Frankie, why the fuck did you run from the police? You’re gonna get into so much more trouble now!”

“I couldn’t stay, something isn’t right, some weird shit is happening all over town.”

“And fucking running from the police after beating someone to death is the way to make it less weird, Frankie?” you spit out, you’ve been worried about him for hours but now your nervous energy shifts into anger at his stupidity. “Just get the fuck home and we’ll deal with this mess in the morning, or just maybe just turn yourself in, it’s gonna look so bad with you running from the scene.” You sigh, pushing your fingers through your hair, “Frankie, why’d you have to be so reckless?”

Frankie bristles, you can hear his anger, “You don’t understa-” he begins but suddenly your phone goes dead, cutting him off. You look down at the screen and curse, you have no reception, there are no bars, it looks like the service has overloaded or gone down.

“Fuck,” you say out loud, and turn it off, maybe a restart will help, but no luck. Your phone is still dead and when you try calling Frankie on your landline phone it goes straight to voicemail. You leave a message, telling him to just come home as soon as possible.

After that there’s not much to do except wait, you resume your path between the kitchen window and the living room window, stopping every now and then to flick through the news, all hell seems to be breaking out across the state, even the country. You try calling Frankie a few more times but it still goes straight to voicemail. The knot in your stomach is growing, making you feel nauseous with nerves.

You call Pope but there’s no reply so you call Will’s landline. Hannah picks up and she’s frantic with worry about Will, he’s not back from work and she can’t get hold of him either. Benny was meant to have dinner with them and he’s taken the car to try and go pick up Will at work but with the cell phone services down she can’t reach him either.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” she almost cries, “I saw people running down the street just now and I don’t know if I should leave or what?”

“No, just stay put, Will or Benny will come back there so just lock up and wait,” you say, you can’t stop yourself from biting your nails, you feel panic rising in your throat.

You promise to keep in touch and update each other, when you hang up you feel sick to your stomach. You desperately want Frankie to come back, you need to see him and feel his arms around you, tell you it’ll be alright, but no matter how many times you call, you only get his voicemail. You ring a few extra times just to hear his voice repeat the same message.

“Hi, this is Francisco Morales, I can’t pick up right now, please leave a message.”

“Please, please, please, Frankie, come home, come home, baby,” you whisper into the phone as you listen to his voice again.

Night has fallen outside and it’s even worse, around the city fires have broken out and from your apartment you can see a couple of them burn out of control. Just after midnight the news channel stops broadcasting, suddenly, in the middle of an update. You flick through the channels but there’s only static on all of them.

You call Will’s place again but there’s no reply, you hope that means Benny has brought back Will to Hannah, and they can’t pick up right now, maybe they’re on their way here.

Just as you’ve put the phone down it rings again and you snatch it up.

“Frankie?” you almost cry down the receiver but instead you hear Pope’s worried voice.

“Is Frankie there?” he asks, you can hear the stress in his voice.

“No, he called at nine, he…he was in some trouble but I don’t know…he was on his way home, but he’s not here yet,” your words rush out, “Pope, what’s happening? I can’t get hold of Will or Benny either and I’m freaking out!”

“I don’t know, it’s a shit show, people are…listen, I’m not too far from you, I’ll try and make it over there. I’m on a military frequency so my phone’s still up, I’ll call you if anything. Just stay put inside, keep the door locked.”

“Yes, yeah, of course, I’m waiting for Frankie, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, double checking the lock and deadbolt on the front door.

“Do you have a weapon, a gun, baseball bat, knife, anything?” he asks, you can hear him jogging, his shoes drumming along whatever hard surface he is on.

“I don’t know, I don’t think we have a gun, we have a baseball bat, and the kitchen knives,” you frown, looking out the window again, “Pope, why do I need to arm myself, are people looting?”

“Yeah, they’re looting and it’s getting violent, so stay inside, and don’t open to anyone except me or Frankie. And don’t talk to anyone but me or Frankie, ok?”

“Ok, I’ll dig out the baseball bat straight away but…but just get here, please, Pope, I’m really scared.” You leave the window and go to the closet in the guest room where Frankie keeps his old bat.

“I know, I know, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Hurry, please, and stay safe, Santi,” you say, you can feel tears gathering on your lashes as your voice starts to wobble.

“I need you to be strong, ok,” Pope’s voice is firm, as if he’s giving a soldier orders, “I need you to handle yourself, if someone tries to come through that door, you need to defend yourself, do you understand? Even kill them if it comes to that, do not let anyone attack you.”

“Santi…” you stumble, “I can’t..”

“I know, but you have to. This is serious, Frankie’s not around so I need to make sure you’re safe, and for you to be safe, you need to be ruthless now, do you understand?” His voice has a sharp edge, he’s breathing hard, moving fast trying to get to you, and the reality of what he’s saying hits you.

“I promise, Pope,” you whisper, “I’ll…I’ll try my best to defend myself, I’ll try.”

“Good, I’m about an hour away on foot, but it’s slow going. Give me two to three hours and I should be there.”

“Stay safe, Santi, please,” you beg, pressing the receiver of the phone to your ear, as if hearing the voice of your friend will keep him and you safe.

“I’ll try my best, and stay strong for me, and for Frankie, ok?”

“I will,” you promise.

…

When his phone dies, Frankie hears the click and then nothing. He had a feeling this would happen, it’s mayhem in the city and the system is bound to be overloaded, so the lack of reception is no surprise, but he still curses under his breath.

He was moving down narrow back alleys, jogging fast, staying off the main streets, avoiding people, especially any police, as he tried to get away from Washington Park. When he’d put some distance between himself and the park, he’d stopped to call home. He’d crouched down just behind a dumpster, keeping out of sight, while he talked to her. Now he stands up carefully, looking up and down the alley and considers his next move. The keys to his truck are in his pocket, it’s still where he left it by the park, he could maybe try to get back to it but the police are sure to be there.

But something, at the back of his head, tells him he needs to keep moving and get home as fast as possible. Things are not normal, the whole day has been a shit show, but now, now it’s getting out of control. The man he’d tried stopping beating up the other guy had been raging, he’d turned and attacked Frankie so fast he’d barely had time to react. Only his instincts from the army, slower now but still just under the surface, had saved him from getting bit, fucking bit!

The guy had actually tried biting him when Frankie sidestepped, and tripped him up, making him fall to the ground. He’d been on his feet in a flash and Frankie knew the guy was high on something when he saw his eyes, so he’d sidestepped again and swung an elbow to the guy’s head, hitting him in the temple. It had been harder than he’d intended but the sudden attack had his adrenaline running high, and the man had dropped to the ground and remained motionless.

As he started running, when the police pulled up, his only thought was to get away as fast as possible. But as he ran, as he put a couple of blocks between him and the park, he saw others starting to act strange. When a city bus crashed into a taxi he dodged into an alley, the passengers on the bus flailing about inside as if they were locked in battle with each other. Frankie’s gut was yelling at him that something was very wrong, this was not just a weird day, this was something else, but he couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on. So he’d stopped to call her, to hear her voice and make sure she was safe, and let her know he was trying to get home.

The way the call ended, when the phone network died, left a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with the unfolding mayhem in the city. This weekend was meant to be about them, he wanted everything to be perfect, and now the last words between them had been anger. The small box in his jacket pocket represented everything he wanted for their future, and more than anything he needed to get back to her, to explain what had happened and get them out of the city for their anniversary. Whatever the fuck was going with everyone else, he needed to be with her, at the cabin, and ask her to be his wife. Everything else was secondary.

Frankie drew a deep breath and started moving back towards Washington Park. He needs his truck, it’s their best chance at getting out of the city. Hopefully the police had been called away on something else, letting paramedics deal with the guy he’d taken down, maybe he hadn’t actually killed him.

He stays on side streets and alleys, keeping low, staying out of sight. When he sees the door to a gun shop wide open, he pauses, considering the risk. A gun would make him feel safer, but looting one now, is pretty shitty behaviour. The thought stays with him for only a second, before he cautiously moves into the shop. The back of the shop is dark but quiet, broken glass crunches under his boots as he moves towards one of the display cases. There’s rifles on the wall but they’re too hard to hide, instead he quickly finds a Glock among the wreckage, the familiar gun feels solid in his hand.

There’s ammo behind the counter but when he steps around it, he sees the woman, splayed on the floor, face down. He stops in his tracks, staring down at her still form for a beat. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt and he can see the blood where it’s been ripped open over her shoulder. It doesn’t look like a significant amount of blood but he can’t see her face, can’t tell if she’s alive or not.

There’s a box of ammo near him and he quickly loads the gun, sliding a full magazine into the Glock. He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the day has been, but he keeps his gun trained on the woman, safety off, while he carefully moves towards her. There’s more ammo behind her and he wants to pick it up, but he also doesn’t want to leave her injured or dead without checking on her.

Gently he nudges the toe of his boot against her hand, shifting it slightly, and he hears a deep growl, inhuman. The sound makes him take a quick step back, more glass breaking under his feet with a loud crackle. The woman lifts her head and turns to look at him for a beat. All Frankie has time to think is that her eyes have the same rage as the man at the park, she scrambles to her feet and launches herself at him. He fires his gun on instinct, the bullet hitting her cheek, the close range making it explode out the back of her head.

She drops instantly as Frankie holds the gun trained at her. It takes a split second for his training to kick in, but then he moves. Stepping over her, he grabs two more boxes of ammo, stuffing them in his pockets, before he quickly throws himself over the counter and heads out the back door he came through, checking the street before he leaves. Walking fast, but not running, he puts the safety back on the gun and shoves into the back of his trousers, out of sight under his jacket. His breathing is normal but he can feel adrenaline pumping through his system, muscle memory makes him move through the city as if it’s hostile enemy territory.

What the fuck is going on? What was that? Bad batch of some drug on the streets?

As he moves back towards the truck he checks his phone, there’s still no reception. There are more people on the streets now, more cars too, all heading for the freeway. He sees a family hastily throw bags into a car, a cat in a travel cage stuffed into the back. Other cars speed past, full of stuff, people are packing up and leaving. The sight makes him anxious, he needs to do the same, get back home, get to her, and get the fuck out.

Screw the weekend, we need to get the fuck out of the city fast, whatever this is, it’s not gonna be over by Monday.

He finally spots his truck, parked where he left it, the man he’d knocked out nowhere in sight, and no police. Quickly scanning the area for signs of trouble, Frankie crosses the street and gets into the truck. He breathes a sigh of relief when he can lock the door and the engine rumbles to life. He can see traffic lining up on the other side of the park so he takes a side street, mapping the best route back home in his head as he tries to drive as fast as he can, people are running along the streets, cars speeding past and it gets worse the closer to downtown he gets. He tries to skirt around it but as he turns down a side street he finds it blocked by a truck that’s crashed into a building.

“Fuck,” he breathes under his breath, there’s fire under the truck and he can see people on the other side. Quickly he reverses back onto the main street and turns left, heading a few more blocks down. The traffic’s getting heavy and it’s getting harder to avoid getting stuck, up ahead he sees cars grinding to a halt and in a last second decision he pulls a hard right and turns down a narrow alley, he knows it connects to another big road after a couple of blocks but it will get him closer to home at least, almost all the way there if it’s clear. He barrels through the alley, slowing down only to take the sharp turn onto the main road, and speeding up as he sees the way ahead of him clear. The harsh headlights flooding the cabin of his truck is the only warning he has when the bus slams into the passenger side of the truck. The screech of metal and tyres is the last thing Frankie hears as the world outside the shattered windscreen goes spinning and turns to black.

…

Your body is telling you to sleep but you can’t, it’s almost three am and you’re on the couch, with a painful knot in your stomach. There’s sirens wailing outside, close by, and you’ve heard screams of terror and pain throughout the night. Frankie’s baseball bat is next to you on the couch, your hand shoots out to grab it whenever you hear a sound, your nerves on edge, the big kitchen knife on the coffee table. You’ve cried yourself dry with worry, Frankie’s not home, Pope hasn’t arrived either, you feel like you’re all alone in the world and every minute you’re fighting to keep the panic down. Pope’s words, keep strong for me and for Frankie, roll through your brain, it’s all you’ve got to keep you from falling over the edge.

A loud crack rings out somewhere in your building and you shoot up to your feet, it sounded close and it sounded like a gunshot. Straining your ears you try to hear more, but the wailing sirens from outside make it hard to make out anything. Slowly moving closer to the front door, you grip the bat in your hand. You stop in the hall, holding your breath and listen intently in the silence. Suddenly you hear a shoe scuffle against the floor outside your door and you bite down hard on your lip, your heart is thumping so loudly it’s deafening.

A soft tap on the door startles you enough to make you jump back into Frankie’s sneakers on the shoe rack.

“It’s me, Pope, open the door,” Santi’s familiar voice filters low through the front door and you almost cry with relief, stumbling forward to unlock it. He comes through it as soon as it’s open enough to let him in and he immediately closes it behind him, locking and sliding the deadbolt in place. When he turns to you, you throw your arms around him, and you feel him grab hold of you, squeezing you tight as he pulls you into the living room.

“Santi, I’m so scared,” you sob, fighting back tears, as he sets you down on the couch, “what’s happening?”

“I don’t know yet, Frankie isn’t back?” he asks, looking around the living room.

“N-No, I haven’t heard from him since the cell network went down,” tears well up in your eyes, “h-he said, he was coming back here. But that was six hours ago, Santi!” The tears spill over as fear overcomes you and he sits down next to you on the couch, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, gently shushing you.

“Deep breaths, hermana, you need to focus,” he turns you around, putting both hands on your shoulders, squeezing them as his eyes lock onto yours. “Listen, I need you to stay with me now, ok?”

You nod weakly as Pope wipes your cheek with the back of his hand, “We need to pack essentials and get out of here, there’s a couple of dirt bikes in the garage under your building, I’ve got the keys and-”

“I’m not leaving without Frankie,” you say immediately, leaning back from Pope instinctively. “I have to stay here until he comes back.”

“You can’t, it’s not safe, I have to keep you safe while Frankie’s not around,” Pope grabs your shoulders again, as if to press it into you but you baulk.

“If I leave, with the phones down, he won’t find me. He said he was coming back here and I said I’d stay until he came back,” you pull away from Pope and stand up, moving to the window to look down on the street again.

“Hermana, you haven’t seen the city, it’s chaos,” he’s stands up and comes after you, grabbing hold of your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on but people are unhinged, losing control and attacking each other,” his grip on your arm loosens a little but he’s turning you to look at him, “I don’t want to scare you more, but it’s bad out there, people are dying.” He falters, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’m sorry, this isn’t going away anytime soon, and Frankie might not make it back.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that!” You feel panic rising in your chest and you push him away.

“I saw a woman…she was…she killed a child, it’s that bad out there,” Santi grabs you again, a pained look on his face, pleading, “I’m sorry, Frankie is a very capable soldier, one of the best, but it took all I had to make it here.”

You pull your arm from his hand, “He’s coming back here, I’m not leaving without him,” you spit out and step back into the living room, crossing your arms as you turn back to Pope, he’s looking at you from the window.

“I can’t leave you here, Frankie’s my best friend, my brother, and you’re the love of his life, I’ve got to keep you safe. For him, hermana.” He’s pleading with you but you shake your head even as tears well up in your eyes again.

“If you want to help Frankie, get to Lucía. Take one of the dirt bikes, get her and we’ll meet you at Denny’s cabin.” You’re staring at him, your jaw set, you know Pope can’t argue with that and he has no choice. As he drops his chin to his chest you know you’ve got your way.

“Ok,” he sighs, “I’ll go and get Lucía, but you have to promise me that if Frankie’s not back by Sunday morning, you take the other bike and come up to the cabin too,” he’s walked over to you again, looking down at you with dark eyes, “if he’s not back by Sunday morning, he’s not coming back. Take the bike, get to the cabin.”

“He’s coming back, Santi.”

“I really want you to be right, hermana,” he sighs as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You slump against him, you can feel your body shaking with the onslaught of nerves and adrenaline.

“He has to come back,” you whisper into his chest, “he has to, he has to, he has to,” you repeat as a mantra as Pope gently strokes your back.

You don’t notice when Pope carefully lays you down in your bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your exhausted body and mind shuts down for a few hours and lets you sleep without dreams. When you wake with a start, daylight is starting to creep through your window, and for a second it feels like a normal morning, until you see Frankie’s side of the bed, empty.

You push back the blanket and make your way out to the living room to find Santi on the couch, two guns and a rifle laid out in front of him.

“Morning,” he says, looking up at you. “I hope you managed to sleep some.”

You sit down next to him on the couch, watching his methodical movements with the weapons, “Did you sleep at all?”

“No, I kept watch, but it’s fine,” he adds as he sees your concerned look, “I’m still running on adrenaline and I’m used to it. Pulled plenty of all nighters in the army.”

“Did anything happen while I slept?” You move to the kitchen and open the fridge to pull out some breakfast, the inside of the fridge is dark.

“The electricity and the military phone network cut out about an hour ago,” Pope nods at the fridge. “Eat whatever might go bad first.” He stands up and grabs a backpack, you recognise it as Frankie’s spare one. “I’ve packed enough to keep me going for a few days, and I’ve done the same for you and Frankie,” he points to a bigger backpack, Frankie’s hiking pack. “I’m gonna try to get to Lucía now, you and Frankie head to the cabin as soon as possible. Get out of the city, that’ll be Frankie’s plan too.”

He comes over to you where you’re standing by the kitchen counter, frozen in your movements. “Remember what I said last night, hermana, I’m sorry, but if he’s not back by Sunday morning…” he pauses and grabs hold of your hand, squeezing it tight, “if he’s not back, you have to leave by yourself and get to the cabin. Promise me,” his dark eyes are bearing into you as his fingers wrap around your own.

“I promise, I’ll leave if he’s not back by Sunday morning,” you say, your voice barely over a whisper.

“Ok,” he gives your hand another squeeze and goes back to Frankie’s backpack. “I’m leaving a gun with you, and some ammo, it’s in the pack,” he shows you the boxes in an outside pocket. “This is your gun,” he picks up one of the handguns on the coffee table, “it’s easy enough to handle, I’ll show you.”

“Where did you get them?” you ask, “did you just happen to have two guns and a rifle on you yesterday?”

“No, I didn’t,” Santi looks at you, “I broke into a gunshop and took them.” He sees the way your eyes widen and holds up his hand, “Look out of the window, the world is falling apart, I don’t know what is happening, but looting three guns to protect myself and you, is the least of our worries right now.” He picks up the gun and motions you over and shows you how to hold it, “Grab it like this, both hands, keep it steady.”

The gun is heavy and cold in your hands, “You really think the world is falling apart?” Your voice is quiet as you adjust your grip as Pope moves your fingers.

“The first thing I heard yesterday was that something was going on in Indonesia, then Rotterdam. Here, put your thumb like this.” He moves your thumb to cross over your hand, “then there were news reports from all over the US. And if things are as bad there as they are here, then yeah, I think the world is falling apart.”

He steps back and looks at your grip on the gun, “That’s it, hold it like that and squeeze the trigger when you’re ready.”

You pull back on the trigger and the gun clicks. “So we get to the cabin and then what?” you ask, looking down the barrel of the gun, feeling the weight.

“We hold down the fort, wait it out, until it’s under control again.” Pope gently takes the gun from your hands and shows you how to load it, making you go through the motions several times. When he decides you’ve got a hang of it, he takes the gun and gives it to you, “Safety on, keep it within easy reach. I should’ve gotten you a holster but stick it in the back of your pants for now, keep it on you at all times, ok?”

“Ok,” you nod, doing as he says before looking up at him. “Do you think the others, Will and Benny, will come up to the cabin too?”

“If they can, yeah, it’s the most logical choice.”

He turns and grabs the smaller backpack and his jacket, “I’m leaving, I’ll get to Lucía, get her and her mom, if I can, back to the cabin. Sunday morning, ok?”

“Sunday morning I leave if he’s not back, yes, Santi.” You nod, your jaw tight.

“Ok. And listen, when you do leave, with or without Frankie, don’t trust anyone. People are attacking without warning, like animals.” Pope’s eyes are on you, imploring you to understand, “Anyone moves towards you, shoot them, aim for the torso to bring them down, then head shot, to kill. I know it’s not going to be easy, but if you want to survive, you have to. Get to the cabin, I’ll be there.” He pulls you in for a big hug, squeezing you tight and you hold on to him for as long as you can before he pulls away.

“Stay safe, Santi.”

“You too, hermana.”

You walk him to the front door and watch him as he listens through it for a couple a minute, the landing outside is silent. Carefully he opens the door, gun drawn, and peeks outside. Daylight is filtering through the windows, shining some light into the stairwell. With a final look at you he steps through the door and you close it behind him, locking it securely again.

Walking back to the living room, you sit down on the couch. Twenty four hours until Sunday morning.

All you can do now is wait.

Chapter 12

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales angst #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #santiago garcia #the pilot and his girl #tlou fanfiction #tlou fandom

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nothankyou543 · 5 months

Text

Leo Valdez x child of Poseidon reader

Percy is your older brother, you came to camp a month after the war with Kronos and in that time you and Percy got really close

so obviously you were devastated when he went missing

you and annabeth are frantically searching for him in between days of on and off crying

One day she goes searching and you see other people with her you run up thinking one might be percy

its not. Three new demigods are standing in front of you

the first is TALL like skyscraper tall with blonde hair and blue eyes

the second a girl with choppy brown hair and changing eyes standing next to…a child?

At first you didn’t see the third person because he was on his knees panting

he looked like he just ran a 5k

he looked up and holy crap

he has curly brown hair that’s soaked from the lake, with the most beautiful brown eyes youve ever seen

you blush and look towards annabeth who looks at you questioningly

“I’m guessing you didn’t find him” you say solemnly “ no, I’m sorry” you nodded and started to walk back to cabin 3

you can’t stop thinking about the boy you saw

on the other side of things when Leo first saw you all his cheesy pock up line evaporated

he was at a lost for words as a beautiful girl with h/c hair and e/c eyes stared down at him

her face looked like she’d been crying and he had the urge to comfort her but he didn’t even know her name

he turned to annabeth and said “ who was that” she answered saying “ that’s y/n, Percy’s little sister, she’s been a mess since he disappeared

fast forward to after the tour and the claiming to the camp fire

you see the boy from before sitting with Hephaestus cabin so he must have gotten claimed

he looks up at you and you look away

when you look back he is walking towards you

he stops and says “ hi I’m Leo, but you can call me Super Sozed McShizzle”

that made you laugh which was the first time you had laughed in months

The rest goes as follows

“I’m y/n”

“ I couldn’t help but notice that you look a little sad, wanna talk about it”

”not really” you say getting up

you walk back towards your cabin

you didn’t mean to be rude but you felt like you were gonna cry again and you didn’t want to do that in front of everybody

you get back to your cabin and cry yourself to sleep

the next morning a knock wakes you up

when you answer there’s no one there but a rose is on your doormat along with a note

dear y/n I know your bummed about Percy and a little birds told me you like flowers you I took a wild guess at your favorite. - secret admire

you were stunned that anyone would do something so nice for you but the only thing you could think about was that they were probably still there

as a joke you say “ for reference f/f if my favorite flower”

you smile at the joke you made and go back inside

in truth you did feel a lot better now knowing someone cared

also how did he know you liked flowers?

switch perspective

leo had the grin of a mad man on his face

He gave y/n a rose and learned what her favorite flower was He felt like he was making progress at trying to talk with her

in truth he had no idea if she liked flowers or not he just went with it

ok I’m running out of room I’ll post part 2 on my profile comment anything you want to see

#leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez fanfic #jason grace #piper mclean #heros of olympus #hoo #x reader fanfiction #child of poseidon #leo Valdez x child of Poseidon

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whitedemon-ladydeath · 5 months

Text

it's really frustrating to be held for something i said well over 5 years ago from someone that has me blocked in the first place to the point posts im making *now* are getting tone policed by a third party. granted, it was something out of line and ableist and thoughtless towards papa archeron and its absolutely fair to be mad about it!! I completely understand and I wouldn't be caught dead saying something like that now as I have done a lot of self educating and growing and reflecting

but what makes it so frustrating is I make a post about being frustrated about Feyre not painting Nesta, but still painting their father. I believe I said something about him being useless and believe it or not, he *was* useless and it had absolutely nothing to do with him being disabled. He was a useless parent long before then. He neglected and abandoned Nesta well before he was hurt or they lost their wealth and the moment they got it back he was miraculously healed up enough to go right back to ignoring his daughters and traversing the world

his character is so hollow and flat that there's very little for me, personally, to find sympathetic. *He* lost their wealth and their fortune and in doing so he lost money to debt collectors. it's absolutely horrific that Feyre was made to bare witness to that and beg for them to stop hurting him. I identify so much with Feyre in that regard. That still does not remove the fact it was his own actions that led to that in the first place. if he got beaten within an inch of his life for losing that much money who the hell was he WORKING with in the first place (we don't know bec SJM is a shitty writer)

He is directly responsible for their loss of wealth and I am not personally holding him responsible for the last of it being used to partially heal his leg. however he IS still responsible for the loss of it in the FIRST place. his disability is a result of poor financial decisions and ofc there is no excuse to be ableist towards him for it

quite frankly he's written so poorly that there's nothing I personally can latch onto to give him much benefit of the doubt. I'm still going to hold him more responsible for not trying to find SOME WAY to take care of his daughters. NESTA reached out to relatives, FEYRE stepped up to hunt for them and he... makes wood carvings that don't even sell

Nesta being more vilified for the cabin years compared to their father, who is directly responsible for the loss of their wealth, has made me heartless towards him

he was useless before they lost their wealth and he was useless well after. He was, quite frankly, a deadbeat father, who threw Nesta to the wolves (his wife and her mother), who favored Feyre and Elain over her time and time again and I'm sorry but me saying he's useless is exactly what he was

he's a useless parent who let his children be neglected and/or further abused by his wife. maybe if SJM wrote him better, with more nuance, actually building on the dynamics between his wife and himself, instead of saying he was afraid of NESTA, a fourteen year old girl, I might have a different opinion but right now he doesn't have a whole lot of sympathy from me considering my own history with my disabled, terminally ill mother doing her best and killing herself taking care of us while also in an abusive, violent marriage

SJM didn't write it well enough for me to offer any kind of grace bec quite frankly, I am also really, really sick of father figure characters getting off the hook while the female characters are burned at the stake for being flawed and/or unperfect caretakers, which, to be clear, Nesta WAS NOT in the first place

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #nesta archeron #sjm critical #anti sjm #papa archeron

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raparopa · 5 months

Note

Could I request a Tolya X reader where they are on Nikolai’s ship at night and reader can’t sleep so she stays up reading poetry and he joins her? 🤍🤍

a/n: I am alive☠️With all this studying, I was completely lost and I really want to get back into my rhythm! I don’t know if I will succeed, but I will try very hard, maybe slowly and not right away, but I will try. I've got a lot of requests, I'll try to sort them out for now, but if you have any ideas, don't hesitate

warnings: none (I had to use lines from poems by famous authors, because poetry is not my forte)

pairing: Tolya Yul-Bataar x reader

do you understand or feel it?

I couldn’t find a place for myself: I tossed and turned in bed for an hour, drank tinctures for sleep, counted the crows that were jumping in my head - and none of these methods helped me. Didn't help me sleep.

Usually, sleeping on board our ship was more than good. The soft swaying of the waves, the light of the stars penetrating into the small porthole of my cabin - it was all so beautiful and good. Exactly until this evening. I don’t know what caused my insomnia, but not being able to just relax in a cloud of blankets and pillows, as well as one adorable heartrender by my side, was just killing me.

Therefore, I couldn’t find anything better than to walk along the empty deck and gaze at the stars, taking Tolya’s collection of poetry with me. He found something in the poems and I was wondering why exactly they amazed him so much, because before I had no time at all to escape from business and devote myself to... art?

I quietly walked along the creaking wood, plopped down on one of the boxes and turned my gaze to the clear, dark sky. The silver disk of the moon sparkled, surrounded by a vault of small stars, filling everything around with its cold light. There was a smell of salty breeze and oil, splashes of water could be heard somewhere, and I again thought how disappointing it was that on this good night I couldn’t just sleep.

-So, so... Let's see what we have here that makes Tolya go so crazy?-The book opened easily and I began to leaf through the pages, reading the first lines to find the poem I liked.

…And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes…*

I raised my eyebrows; the lines sounded promising.

...Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies...**

Poetry at night, in the light of the moon, absorbed me more and more, and now I understood why Tolya carries this little book with him everywhere and no longer understood why people did not allow him to read them out loud.

I re-read and re-read, looked for new things, mentally noted the works that were imprinted in my mind and heart, thought about how I would ask Tolya to buy a collection for me or tell me how to choose the most interesting one.

Immersed in my thoughts and tender lines of light poetry, I did not at all notice the cautious steps that appeared on the deck.

-...as fair art thou, my bonnie lass, so deep in luve am I...

-...and I will love thee still, my dear, till a' the seas gang dry.*** - a strange voice rang out over my ear and strange hands wrapped around my waist. - Good night, my heart.

I winced, immediately slamming the book shut and rolling my eyes in pseudo-annoyance, trying to hold back a smile.

-Tolya! You scared me, Saints, don't do that again or I'll hit you.

He laughed, pecking me on the cheek and resting his chin on my shoulder.

-You weren’t in bed, I thought something happened, and you’re sitting here and reading poetry.- Yul-Bataar giggled. -I expected anything, but not this, Y/N. You... pleasantly surprise me.

-I couldn’t sleep, I decided to take a walk and thought it would be nice to take something to read...

-And how? Poetry isn't for everyone, you know. Not every person is able to understand the meaning and feelings embedded in ordinary poetic lines, in ink written on paper. When you read poetry, you must either understand or feel.

I turned my head slightly to see his smiling face, clutching the volume of poetry in my hands.

-Well? And you?-Tolya asked again.

-What?

-Do you feel or understand, when you read these lines, my heart?- He quickly took his book from my hands, lovingly and gently opening it.

I thoughtfully followed his movements, digesting the words he said, trying to grasp their essence.

-Don't know. I haven't read enough to fully...dive into this. I think I need to get to know a lot more to feel poetry.

-Do you want to feel it?- Tolya’s warm embrace immediately disappeared, which made me instantly freeze. He walked around the chest on which I was sitting, opened the collection and began to look for something in it.

-What are you going to do?- I asked, admiring his silhouette, which so softly curved around the silver light of the cold stars. Tolya smiled mischievously, without taking his eyes off the pages.

-Once, you want to feel poetry in your heart, Y/N,-he put his palm to his chest. -Then let me show you this path and read some wonderful things?-He looked up at me and smiled tenderly.

I smiled back, bowing my head.

-I would be glad if you honored me with this, dear,- I responded, involuntarily giggling.

-Then, as expected, every bard is entitled to a reward. For each poem I want to receive... - Tolya thought theatrically, rubbing his chin. - For a kiss. Is the lady happy with this price?

-Cunning fox!- I laughed, squinting from the sharply elevated mood. -But, yes, the lady agrees to the conditions of the cunning bard.-I had to bite my lip so that my smile did not sparkle like a mirror reflecting the light of the sun.

-Then let's start! Bright star, would I be stedfast as thou art... ****

Or maybe this insomnia was not a punishment after all?

**“She Walks In Beauty” by Lord Byron

***“A Red, Red Rose” by Robert Burns

****“Bright Star” by John Keats

#shadow and bone season two #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #tolya yul bataar #tolya yul bataar x reader #tolya yul bataar imagine

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buckgasms · 2 years

Text

Goldilocks

I did it....but should I have done it? This is a dark fic so please proceed with caution! It took me a while and I don't know if I like it yet, I think I need some of you to come and discuss this with me 😙

Warnings: Dark Fic, dubcon, kidnapping, p in v, reader is naked a lot, breeding kink, its dark and loooooong

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Bucky has always craved something that he could never seem to find.

- It doesn't even seem that far fetched to him.

- A pretty wife to take care of who he would come home to, make him dinner, look after the house and raise a brood of little Barnes'.

- Obviously he would keep his little wife busy by breeding her as often as possible so she was always with a swollen belly and a baby in her arms.

- But apparently this was all too old fashioned for the women in his town.

- He spent his nights in his little cabin in the woods becoming more obsessed with the idea, how much better his life would be and how no woman would ever satisfy him.

- That was until you stumbled into his life.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You had been visiting the area, planning on going on a hike through the huge national park forest. Just to get away from it all.

- After a few hours hiking you realised you were totally and utterly lost.

- Add to that, you barely packed enough food or drink, warm clothes and your phone battery died because you forgot your spare charger.

- Oh and how about a twisted ankle and a rain storm just to fuck you up a bit more?

- You limped onwards and finally came upon a little cabin. You cried with relief and stumbled over, calling out for help.

- When no reply came you tried the door and found it unlocked. Your first bit of luck that day!

- You stripped off your wet clothes and left them in the hallway before hobbling into the kitchen and raiding the fridge.

- You were so delirious you couldn't focus on what a mess you had made and you stumbled through the house until you came across a cosy bed and collapsed into it, passing out before your head even hit the pillow.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- When Bucky got home from work, he squinted through the windscreen as the rain lashed down.

- His front door was wide open and the lights had been turned on!

- He rushed inside to find a pile of soggy women's clothes on the floor. Following the drips of water he found his kitchen in a mess, fridge door wide open and most of his dinner gone.

- He was furious until he stormed into his bedroom and saw you lying in his bed.

- You had stripped down to your underwear and he took his time staring at you.

- You were pretty. Really pretty.

- And nobody knew you were here. Well as far as he could tell.

- He left you sleeping and went through your belongings. He bagged up your clothes and chucked them in the bin. Your phone was dead so he snapped the sim card in half and threw that in the fireplace for burning.

- Now you were his.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You awoke later and heard noises out in the living room, as well as the scent of something sweet, making your stomach growl.

- You pulled on a t-shirt you found in the wardrobe and headed out to the living room.

- "Hello?" You called out quietly and there he was. A very handsome man, brown locks framing his face and sparkling blue eyes. He was also huge, he looked really strong and well built.

- Ok he was super hot but you also felt a bit nervous of him

- "I'm Bucky, welcome to my home Goldilocks"

- You laughed and shook his hand and introduced yourself.

- "I'm so sorry for breaking in, I was so scared out there and I've hurt my ankle. I was just so relieved I forgot all my manners!"

- He eyed you for a moment then said, "you hungry Goldilocks?'

- You nodded eagerly, bristling a little at the nickname. You had apologised. What more could you do?

- He led you into the kitchen where you found it in a state of total disarray.

- "Tidy up this mess and then you can eat"

- You blinked at him. What the fuck?

- "Um what? Look I said I was sorry but I'm in agony here pal. I'm not your fucking servant."

- He grabbed your arm painfully and dragged you forward.

- "And I'm not yours Goldilocks. Clean up this fucking mess or you can sleep outside tonight."

- You hesitated, just long enough for him to make a decision. He dragged you roughly to the front door and you begged at him.

- "Ok, ok, please! I'll clean it up, just chill, I'll can't go out there!"

- He gave you a dark chuckle. "Too late little brat, maybe you'll be a bit more grateful after a couple of hours?"

- And with that he threw you outside into the rain, the mud and the pitch black forest.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- After what was probably only half an hour you heard the lock on the door finally he opened it.

- He picked you up off the floor and you clung to his shirt as you shivered violently in his arms.

- "Please....p..p..please let me in" you croaked, your voice aching from screaming and crying.

- "You gonna be good?"

- You nodded as hard as you could and he motioned to the kitchen.

- "Go clean up then and I'll get you nice and warm after."

- You didn't dare argue and you immediately limped away to the kitchen and started on the dishes.

- You ran your cold hands under the warm water and tears streamed down your face.

- Whatever this was.... It wasn't good.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Bucky returned when you finished and pulled off your soggy clothes. He wrapped you in a blanket and carried you into the living room where he had started a roaring fire.

- "I didn't want to do that yknow. But you need to learn some manners and respect if you are going to stay here..."

- You tensed up.

- "Oh that's right, you're gonna stay here with me. I've been wishing for a pretty thing like you and just my luck here you are. I don't even mind that you need taming. To be honest....that's the fun part."

- You started shaking again and he rubbed you. This had nothing to do with the cold though. You were trapped with a madman.

- He started pressing kisses to your damp hair and cold skin. You tried to wiggle away but he had you wrapped up tight.

- "You must be starving huh?" He asked and reached forward for a plate of pancakes.

- You cringed as he fed you little bits but you were so hungry you couldn't stop accepting the forkfuls of food he offered.

- He then helped you gulp down some water, rubbing this thumb over some little droplets of water and sinking it into your mouth.

- "Fuck..." He growled and pulled it from you with a pop.

- He then leaned back and rubbed your body until you couldn't help but drift off to sleep in his arms, relived at least to be warm and fed.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You awoke the next morning, naked and tied to the bed, your captor sleeping next to you.

- You tried to struggle quietly but your whimpers woke him and he cooed at you as his fingers gripped your cheeks.

- "Hey, hey calm down.... Or you can stay there all day."

- You stilled your movements and looked at him.

- God if you had met him any other way you would have done anything to get back to his cabin.

- He was gorgeous and thick and beefy and it made your knees weak just looking at him.

- He watched as your eyes scanned his body, resting on his thick cock for a second longer than needed and he grinned.

- "You want this Goldilocks? Might be too big for ya? Or is it too hard? Besides, you'd have to earn the pleasure of being split in half by my cock and you certainly haven't done that..."

- You cursed yourself for the whimper that slipped from your lips and you turned away from him as he laughed and left you there.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Later in the day he untied you and carried you to a nice warm bath. He sat and cleaned your muddy body and washed your hair.

- Little tears escaped from your eyes as he gently caressed your soft body.

- That's where he told you a little about himself.

- He was a Lumberjack having retired early from the army due to injury. Now working long hours in the sunshine with a few friends, and saved enough to build this place by himself as he craved the peace and quiet of the woods.

- Sadly it was the peace and quiet that troubled you. Nobody was going to find you out here. All you could hope was that some Park Rangers would come by and rescue you.

- "I've always dreamed of having this place full of kids and a pretty wife to take care of them, make this place a home y'know?"

- You shivered again in the warm water and he tutted.

- "You'll come around sweetness, already getting there aren't you?"

------------------------🐻----------------------

- Hours passed and you were just waiting now, waiting for him to snap.

- You had done your best to keep him kind, without being too commited to his plans.

- Your foot was aching but you figured if you got a chance you could make a run for it. You'd happily take your chances with a bear over this lunatic.

- He was sitting reading a newspaper, his eyes flicking to you every so often.

- "May I use the bathroom?"

- His eyes narrowed and flicked to your naked state and swollen ankle.

- "Sure thing"

- You walked slowly to the bathroom, waited a few seconds then padded as silently as you could to the front door.

- You grabbed a shirt that was on a peg and quietly opened the door.

- Then you started running.

- Your ankle screamed in protest as each step landed heavier than the last. Your body ached and you choked on sobs as you headed into the woods.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You ran in any direction until you came upon a dirt track. You could believe it when you heard an engine coming down the track.

- You ran towards it and to your relief was a green Ranger truck flashing it's lights at you.

- Wrapping the shirt around your cold body you yelled at the guy in the driver's seat and the truck skidded to a stop.

- "Please help me, I've been kidnapped by a goddam lunatic, please!!!!" You sobbed and clawed at the door.

- "Get in darling"

- The blonde man unlocked the door and you wrenched it open and climbed in.

- "What happened to you?"

- You explained the ordeal and he handed you a blanket to cover yourself up.

- "Bucky Barnes? You sure that's who did it?" He queried and revved up the engine. You nodded and shuddered at the thought of him

- "Well let's get you back huh? You look exhausted."

- You nodded and sank back onto the seat, leaning against the cool window. Relief flooding through your body as he started to drive.

- It quickly dissipated as he drove deeper into the forest until he came into a familiar clearing, and Bucky appeared from the doorway.

- "Damn he looks mad" the Ranger said and hopped out of the car.

- You watched, terrified as the two men shook hands and laughed as the blonde motioned towards you.

- "She's pretty Buck, aren't you lucky to find someone like her"

- "Well she ain't perfect Steve, needs to be trained up I think. Can't have her running around the forest all the time."

- Bucky walked round to your door and wrenched it open.

- "That was a stupid fucking thing to do."

------------------------🐻----------------------

- From that day Bucky had kept a close eye on you.

- You could move around the house, but your feet were shackled together to stop you from running, making you a easy target for his hands.

- He became obsessed with touching you. His hands would snake around your body and he would remind you of how he longed to put a baby in you.

- When you had been returned to him he had put you over his lap and spanked your ass raw.

- You had screamed and cried and begged for mercy but he didn't relent.

- Even a few days later you were still smarting from his hands.

- He would punish you harshly for any infraction, making you cry and promise to he good.

- This served Bucky well on two counts.

- Firstly it made you more obedient throughout the days, afraid of punishment.

- Secondly, when he was kind, you were becoming responsive and needy for him.

- You became less able to resist his mantra. You were so tired and afraid so when he would gently take you in his arms, pepper you with kisses and praises, it made all the coldness seem bearable.

- Your adventure with the Park Ranger made it clear that no one was going to look for you or save you. So what was left? What could you do?

- You were making pastry for a pie when Bucky snuck up behind you and wrapped his arms around your body.

- "I can't wait anymore Goldilocks, I think you've been such a good girl for me, you deserve a treat. Gonna breed you tonight, you're gonna make me a daddy. Hey I can be Daddy Bear and you can be Mommy Bear?" He kissed your cheek and left you to cry into your cooking.

------------------------🐻----------------------

- The usual bedtime routine was for Bucky to lock you in the bathroom and let you wash up before tying you up to his bed.

- Then you would lay there and watch him stroke his thick cock as he ran a possessive hand over your soft skin.

- "Gonna fill you up, fuck, can't believe you're all mine, just made for me..."

- What you hated most was how, just after a few days, your body started reacting to him in ways you wished it didn't

- You would get wet as his fingers squeezed and tugged at you, dipping into your slit once in a while. When he did that your hips chased his fingers and he laughed, stroking himself harder.

- "Soon baby, soon." Was all he would say and finish, wiping his come on your body and wrapping you up in his arms.

- But that wasn't happening tonight.

- Tonight he came in to the bathroom with you, pushed you into the shower and ran a soft cloth over your body.

- He spent time rubbing it through your pussy, creating a delicious burn as he pressed down, making your knees wobble.

- Once you were cleaned to his satisfaction he dried you off and pulled you into the bedroom.

- "I won't tie you up unless you make me" he stated and you nodded, wrapping your arms around your chest.

- He cupped your face in his rough hands and pulled you in for a kiss. You gripped his wrists and tried your best to return it. He was a man possessed and devoured you like no one else had before.

- He pulled away, panting and stared at you. "Everything I ever wanted, right here..."

- He then walked you backwards till your legs hit the bed and he pushed you so you fell backwards.

- He grabbed your ankles in one hand and pushed them up towards your head, his other hand playing with your pussy, spreading your wetness around.

- "Look at you... You gonna be a good girl? Make me a daddy?"

- You whimpered and nodded.

- "Say it, wanna fucking hear you say it"

- His fingers delved into your heat and curled into you, making you gasp.

- "Gonna be good, make you a daddy" you whispered hoarsely, eyes widening as he sunk in two fingers and stretched your walls.

- "Fuck, that's it, so tight, you gonna be able to take me?" he growled, his fingers pumping harshly as he watched you writhe under his actions.

- "Yes, yes.... Can take it" you wailed, desperate to please him, not caring what you were promising him.

- "That's it Goldilocks, good girl" he hummed and he flexed his fingers and soon you were coming around his fingers, howling his name.

- Without warning he sunk his thick cock into you, your mouth hanging open as he dragged his hips, slowly at first.

- "Tell me again, say it again" he grunted, his hips slamming into yours.

- "Gonna....gonna make you....a daddy" you panted, fingers gripping into his thick arms as his dick brushed you cervix almost painfully.

- He leaned down and kissed you, then littered your neck and chest with hickeys.

- "Mine....all fucking mine" he growled and you sobbed into his kiss.

- You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he rutted into you and your eyes locked for a moment.

- "You're perfect baby, so fucking perfect. Gonna take such good care of you I promise. You just gotta be good for me baby..."

- You nodded. It was over, you knew it. He kissed away the tears that tracked down your cheeks.

- "Ok...ok" you panted and he growled in your ear as he came, filling you up and kissing you again.

- "Good girl"

------------------------🐻----------------------

- You heard Bucky's truck revving down the track towards your new home and you rushed outside to wait for him as he instructed you, all those months ago.

- All you had one was a little apron, and your hair was tied up in a pretty bow, looking the picture of a perfect little wife.

- When he approached you, he scooped you up in his arms and spun you around.

- "Bucky!" You squealed "be careful of the baby" you giggled as he placed you back on your feet and stroked your little bump. The pressing a kiss to your cheek.

- "You been good today?" He asked and you nodded, pulling him inside to show him everything you'd done that day.

- Finally he sat down on the couch and you knelt between his knees, resting your head on his thigh, looking up at him, as his hand ran through your hair.

- "So perfect Goldilocks.... My perfect little Goldilocks"

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #masterlist #lumberjack!bucky #lumberbuck #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #lumberjack bucky #bucky headcanon

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regalityandcoffee · 9 months

Text

Nicknames (Pirate! Jon Moxley x Princess Reader)

Summary: due to a bizarre set of circumstances, you, the princess of a far away land, find herself at the mercy of one Captain's William Regal and his strange but kind crew of pirates.

Warnings: Fingering, breast play, Sir kink, Mox being a damn tease, implied William x Mox x Reader near the end because I'm a predictable slut.

Enjoy? <3

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"Achoo! Damn all this dust…" Mox muttered to himself as he cleaned under the bunk. He brought it on himself, really. He should have gotten under here days ago, but like a lot of things it had simply slipped his mind. Now he was stuck on his knees in the cabin he shared with Bryan while he helped Regal, Claudio, and Wheeler on the upper deck.

He got up, dusting the dirt off his slacks. At least now all he had to do was sweep the room and he'd be done. He turned toward the door and practically jumped out of his skin.

The princess was standing in the doorway, chewing on some hardtack.

"Fucking Christ, are you a ghost or somethin'?" He grunted as he walked to the door, removing the broom from its holder on the back. He stood over her now. "Ye can't just go floating around like that."

"Sorry," he barely heard her as she made to go back down the hall. A pang of regret stirred in him immediately. He sighed.

"Get back here." To his surprise, she came back, her hands behind her back as she looked up at him. It had to be some sort of crime to have eyes like that. It was near ridiculous how cute she was. "What are you doing out of the Captain's quarters without supervision anyway?"

"I went to the kitchen… I was a bit hungry, that's all." She looked into his eyes, moving her hair away from her face, slowing the last little bite of bread. Damn it, with a head full of curls like that, who needed a crown? As meek as she was, there was no doubt that she was royal by just looking at her.

"Well just stay there, and I'll take you back up, alright? Can't have you getting hurt or lost." That was the last damn thing he needed on his conscience; her getting hurt somehow after they all promised her she'd be fine in their care. He was no stranger to crime, holding hostages, pillaging scum and dealers across the seas and land. He was a pirate for fuck’s sake. But the woman watching him sweep wasn't any of those things. She was a maiden swept up from her fancy, safe little life in her castle by a band of dangerous freaks like him, all because of an old grudge she had nothing to do with. She was just the right lady in the right place at the wrong time.

And she was taking it bafflingly well.

She tilted her head, gripping the door frame, seemingly scared to come into the room. "I heard you coughing, Sir. Do you need help?"

That was yet another thing about her that stumped him. They way she addressed them all like they were... noblemen. He the most was the furthest thing from respectable, why the hell was she calling him "Sir"? Still, Mox chuckled. this had to be the most unique and odd hostage situation he'd ever be in. Why couldn't she be as scared as everyone else he kidnapped? Probably because most of his hostages were other pirates or rich assholes or corrupt government officials…

"What's your name again, miss?"

"Y/N," She said clearly.

"Yeah, Princess Y/N." He moved back to the center of the room. "Princesses don't get on their knees and clean dirty pirates' rooms, last time I checked." He kept sweeping, fighting back another cough. To his surprise, he watched as she came inside and gently took the broom from his hand.

"I can sweep... and you can finish whatever else you need to do, is that alright, Sir?" She looked up at him, giving him a small smile.

Mox couldn't believe what he was seeing. She wasn't trying to run? Or fight? She... she was trying to clean with him?

"Y-yeah sure if you want. But there ain't a reason in the world you have to do it. I'll be fine... You're a princess, after all. Shouldn't be cleaning anything I've touched…"

She ignored him, and went to sweep the wooden floor. Shrugging to himself, Mox lumbered over and tidied up his bed. Once he finished, he sat down on the edge and watched her. Why, out of all of the gowns they brought her after hers was torn, why did she pick the one that hugged her body the most?

Gone was the frumpy bright dress that -if he was being frank- made her look like a walking cake, now she roamed their ship looking like sin itself. Of all the possible dresses, she picked a green number that laced in the front and revealed her ample cleavage, hugged her waist, hips and (as he was looking at that very moment) behind.

Did every damn thing about this woman have to drive him mad?

He leaned on the post of the bed, his chin tucked in his arms, listening and watching her as she hum to herself. Soon she finished, sweeping the dirt and dust and dumping it into the bin in the corner.

"You…you actually like to clean?" He said as he watched her put the broom back against the door.

"When I can. I don't get a lot of chances, with having staff and whatnot. Papa says it's not a royal's place to do such labor, and Henry says it's commoners work, he hates it when I do such things. I just like to be helpful, Sir, when I can…" she explained.

"Hmmm." Mox grunted as he sat back up.

"Are you done? Are we going back to the Captain's quarters, Sir Jon?" She wiped her palms on her dress, then stood with them behind her back.

"What did you just call me?" His eyebrows raised.

"Huh?"

"Sir..." Jon mumbled the word to himself. Sir… Sir Jon…

"Oh...I'm sorry... do you prefer Mister? Mister Moxley? Or Mister Jon?" Her eyes had gotten wide, as if she was afraid she had made a mistake.

"Come here."

She raised her eyebrows at him, watching as he crooked his fingers. Still, she complied, slowly walking to him. Even sitting down he could tell how much larger he was than her. especially as his hands made their way to her waist and the small of her back to pull her near, until she stood between his legs.

"Mox is fine." He couldn’t help himself, a small laugh escaped him. He found himself... enjoying this now? Even if it were a bit embarrassing that a princess had referred to him like a knight. It was strange. The only one who called him by his first name was Regal, and even he didn't use a title like that when referring to him. He didn't mind it though, strangely enough….

"It's just that… all the men call you "Mox", but Sir William said your name was Jon Moxley…"

"They call me Mox cause its shorter than my surname. Its just a nickname, just something that started when I was young I guess.... You can call me whatever you want...." Mox paused, thinking about what he was going to say. "You can call me whatever you like, Princess…"

She nodded. To his surprise -and partial relief- she didn't pull away, instead placing her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her, and immediately his eyes went back down. Why the hell did she have to have a face like that? Long lashes, eyes that looked like they were looking through him like glass, pretty plump lips and cute round cheeks, she looked like a dream. If he wasn't touching her, he couldn't even be sure if she was real, or just some bizarre fantasy of his.

"What made you pick this, huh? Not that you don't look like a dime, it just ain't something a princess should be wearing, get me?" Mox moved a hand to her chest, giving the end of the lace. that barely held front of her dress together a small tug.

She paused, eyes looking nervous as she looked down at him. "I... I just thought it was beautiful... I've never seen a dress like this before..."

"I have, but usually on thieves and harlots."He murmured. Mox smirked at the pout forming on her lips as he pulled her closer to him. I'll admit... Not exactly a typical dress for a lady like you."

He paused for a moment, deciding whether or not he should say what was on his mind.

"But I'm not complaining." His free hand went down, stroking her hip. "You got a suitor, don' you, little princess? Some dandy the King set you with? Just looking at you I can tell you could have your pick of anyone..."

He was just teasing, but to his disappointment she nodded.

"I guess we gotta give you away to them when we take you back, huh?"

To his surprise, she looked alarmed at the idea. Almost like…she didn't want to go back to whoever she was set with. What did her future prince have to be like for her to want to stay with a bunch of pirates? He pushed the thought from his head as he kept her near.

At this point, had no idea what he was doing. This wasn't some wench he met on the street or in some brothel, this was a goddamn, honest royal. Having her like this could lead to imprisonment or worse. But he was already risking that since he helped kidnap her for fucks sake. He might as well take it further. Besides, to his surprise she seemed a lot less… tense now that he had her closer.

"You got a real way with words, princess. Are you this quiet in your little castle? Or with your man? …or are you dumb because of me?" Mox watched as she struggled to find words, moving his arms around her fully.

"I thought you did… I thought you hated me, so I stayed away…" she seemed brave enough now to look him in the eyes. Why in God's name did she have to have eyes like that? And what magic did they hold to cause him to act like this?

"Hated you?" He raised his brows. He knew practically nothing about her, why would he- oh. Oh. He snorted, shaking his head. "Fucking Regal, guess he was right…"

The princess tilted her head, seemingly confused.

"He tells me how I come off sometimes, standoffs and gruff and shit. But it's just how I am, Princess. I didn't think you'd notice." He moved a hand up, twirling a strand of her soft hair around his finger. "I'm sorry for scarin' you. But like we all said before, we won't hurt you, understand? You have nothing to do with our plans, alright?"

She nodded, her pretty dark lips poking out in a pout.

"Regal told you that too, right? You trust him?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes, yes of course."

"Good." Mox hummed.

They stayed like that for a bit, feeling the sway of the boat as he held her way closer than he should. She didn't seem to mind, even moving her hand to pick some dust out of his beard, tilting her head as she looked at him. The breeze coming in through the door gave him another whiff of her perfume. She smelled divine, that was the only word for her. She smelled pure and divine, of flowers and citrus and shit like that. A vision like her had no place in a world like this, but the more he held her the more he was glad she was there…

Especially with him.

He cleared his throat. "Your Henry is- he- do you love him?"

Y/N raised her eyes, and he could see her struggling to word her thoughts. "He is my betrothed…"

"That ain't what I asked. Do you love him?"

"I have been engaged to him, I must love him as-"

"So you really didn't pick him out yerself, huh?" Mox took her chin in his hand. His eyes raked over her body once more, from her lucious chest to her belly to the curves of her hips in that accursed, tantalizing dress."That means he don't count. Do you love him or not, Princess?"

Her hand crept up his arm, stopping to intertwine with his as she shook her head.

"Then he definitely don't count." He let go of her chin, his hands going back to her hips, hers back to his shoulders.

"Is he good to you, Princess?"

"G-good to me?"

"He don't leave you to fend for yourself… do he?" One hand made its way down her thigh, bunching up the soft material of the dress and tugging it up, revealing more and more of her pretty calf, then her thigh, then the soft dipped curve of her hip. "He knows how to please you, right?"

Mox looked back up at her wide eyes. He watched as she looked so confused, so cute. Something was building up in them too, he knew that look anywhere, the lustful way she gazed down into his eyes.

"When's the last time you've had a proper fuck, huh, princess?" He said, his voice low.

"I…I don't know," she whispered back. "It's been… a while…"

"That ain't no good. What's the point of marryin' a lady like you if you ain't gonna treat her right? You want me to treat you right, Princess?" He creeped the dress up more, finally bunching it up just bellow her belly, revealing herself to him. Not a pair of bloomers in sight. Not very ladylike, he noted…

"M-mox, the door!" She squeaked, looking over her shoulder at the wide open doorway.

Mox. She actually called him Mox…

"Don't worry,everybody's above deck..," he chuckled. "It's nice and private down here for now." With Regal busy looking over the map with Bryan, and Claudio and Wheeler probably swabbing the deck, he had plenty of time for what was on his mind, what he wanted to do to her.

She looked away from the door and back to him.

"You trust me, Princess?"

She nodded.

"Thatta girl. Keep yer eyes on me, alright?" He moved his face towards her chest. His teeth caught the end of the tie between his teeth undoing the cording covering her bosom in seconds. She sucked in a breath as the dress revealed her soft breasts to him.

"Mox…"

"Such a pretty fucking thing you are, Princess…" his hand made its way between her thighs. He kept his other firm at her lower back as he rubbed her clit, smirking at the soft whimper that escaped her before he dragged his tongue over one of her nipples. He moved his fingers from her clit, dragging them down to press between the soft folds of her pussy to her entrance.

Seems like it really had been a while for the poor girl if she was this wet already.

Slowly, he pressed his index into her, feeling her walls clench around him as he kept at her chest. He relished the sound of her whining as her hands gripped his shirt. He took his time getting a feel of her, pushing his finger back and forth, no real rythm on his mind until he found her weakest, most sensitive spot…

"M-Mox…!."

Suddenly, a thought entered his head as he pulled away from her chest to look up at her. He wiped some saliva from the corner of his mouth as he watched her eyes fluttered, as she choked back another pretty little noise.

"What's that yer always calling me, Princess? Sir?" She nodded, moaning as he pressed another of his thick fingers into her. He crooked them, moving them back and forth slowly as her pussy clenched around them."Say it."

"Mph, S-sir Jon…"

"You're a fucking dream, Princess," he murmured before flicking his tongue over her other nipple, then wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud. He switched digits, pulling out his index to thrust in her with his middle and ring fingers while his thumb rubbed hard circles against her pretty little clit.

"Uh, mmmph, S-sir…!"

"No need to keep your voice down, lass, we've got the whole lower deck to ourselves. C'mon, let me hear that voice…" he purred as he sucked at the skin around her nipple.

"Sir Jon… don't stop, please, please…"

All he could do was nod as he left marks against her chest. He had no plans on stopping anytime soon.

It didn't take much more of his teasing for her to reach her point, she shuddered against him, panting and crying out as her pussy clenched around his fingers, dripping down to his wrist. He listened to her little whines for mercy, pulling his fingers out.

He assessed the damage, looking at the way his fingers glistened from her juices. He looked up at her, sucking the taste off her off them.She looked on with shock, her pretty eyes still cloudy with lust. Mox pulled her onto his lap, an arm around her pulling her lose while his other lay firm on her ass. He rested his head againstt her shoulder, yet again breathing in the scent of her.

“Been wanting to do that since I got you on this ship…” he muttere, laying a kiss against the side of her lovely face.

“Thank you…” She mumbled as she wrapped her arms around him.

“My pleasure, Princess…” They sat like that for bit him rubbing her back, until his eyes went to the wide open door. “Guess I ought to get you back upstairs, huh? Captain’s probably missing you something fierce…”

She nodded slowly, letting out a surprised noise as he stood up, quickly wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Let's’ get you back to him then, alright?”

“Yes, Sir. “

Mox tucked an arm behind her knees, carrying her like a bride. He tugged her dress back down as he walked with her into the hall,. She struggled to fix the cording covering her chest as the went up the creaky stairs to the top of the ship. The beautiful sky was still there to great them, with just a few clouds rolling in now that midday had come. He passed by Wheeler, his eyes open in surprise, a smile quickly forming on his lips. He avoided eye contact wit the rest of the group as he walked over to the door of the Captain’s Quarters. He gave the door a knock.

“Come in,” the unmistakable voice of Captain William Regal said on the other side. Mox took in a deep breath and pushed open the door.

There on the edge of his bed sat the Englishman, his head in a book of poetry. He closed the door behind him, taking Princess Y/N over to the bed and helping her to sit down in the middle. He tucked the feather next to him in the book and smiled at the princess, gently taking her hand and giving the back a kiss. “I was wondering where you had gone to, love.”

“I went to the k- kitchen, then I-”

“She was just helping me clean, she was keeping me some company,” Mox interrupted her. His eyes widened as she tucked her legs underneath her to sit; the lace across her chest was nowhere as neat as it was when she hasd first came downstairs… and the Captain was sure to notice.

“Just keeping him some company, were you?” William murmured. To Mox’s bemusement, his hands went to the princess’s face, looking into her eyes with those famous blues of his, before giving her a soft, gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m sure it was quiet a time indeed. Claudio could hear your merriment down the hall you know, when he went to check on our dear Jon…”

Mox stiffened as the man’s gaze turned to him. “I’m sure you to had quite an interesting time, didn’t you?”In the older man’s eyes wasn't an ounce of anger, disappointment, or anything of the sort… There was a twinkle in his eye that read solely of mischief. “I’m just disappointed, that, well…you hadn’t a mind to tell mind to call upon me.”

Oh? “Call upon ya?” Mox tilted his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. Surely, the oldewr man wasn’y implying what he thought he was…

And yet, as he watched William lay a kiss against the princess’s cheek, a hand moving to twirl the cording around his finger, loosing it once more, he knew instantly knew better. “I would have just loved to see the look on her darling face as you two entertained each other…”

“It ain’t too late to, Cap’tn,” Mox chuckled.

The poor sweet girl on the bed looked between the two of them, her eyes widening with sudden realization.

“Well, Y/N, my little dove” What say you? Will you let me entertain you like our Jon, hmm?”

She gave a little nod, covering her mouth with her hand. SHe sucked in a breath as the lace at her chest was discarded, as the Captain helped her to lay at his pillows and his hands moved to tug her dress up and off.

Mox gave the Captain a smirk, and began to unbutton his own shirt.

This was going to be a hell of an evening for them…

-fin-

#jon moxley #jon moxley x reader #jon moxley x black reader #jon moxley smut #jon moxley imagine #bcc #blackpool combat club #pirate au

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