#but when you say your sad/struggling it’s literal crickets | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

polaroidpascal · 3 months ago

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i've rarely, if ever, explored the world of dark!joel fics... but holy. fucking. shit. i've been struggling to put the words together to explain the way this makes me feel, and it only gets stronger and stronger with the more you decide to share with me. like... i am so fucking invested in this. i wish there was a way i could just pluck my heart out and translate the physical feeling into words or like a visual but i literally can't, IT'S JUST TOO MUCH 😭😭😭

ANYWAYYYSSS... i am sooo fucking excited for more of this. i'm so invested. i'm on edge. i'm holding my breath. i'm falling for him when there is LITERALLY no reason to. i'm deluding myself into thinking he's not that evil but man, oh man, i know he is, like sooo evil. BEYOND evil. and he is also beyond saving, truly.

winter, i bow down to you 🧎‍♀️

it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated.

the "she's never even been nominated” made me giggle 😭

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires.

idk why i could see this so clearly in my head and it made me so sad. like my chest started getting achey i was like :( i feel like i AM her fr

He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

JUST SOMEBODY'S HARMLESS GRANDFATHER AIDUBFAKJSDBF

Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

ohhhhhh my god... making his nose scar be from one of his victims... and from her specifically... oh my fucking GOD.

You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you.

hello yes i am in this fic and i don't like it 🧎‍♀️ i literally stepped back for a sec i was like woah.

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

HELLO YES I AM IN THIS FIC AND I DONT LIKE ITTT 😭😭😭

That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

the panic i got from this... and she's not even awake. and these are just his thoughts. she has no fucking idea... oh my god. 😵‍💫

In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. But Joel will always know.

he knows her type too good. he knows exactly what will happen. and then it fucking DOES. joel will always. know.

What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too. And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

if it feels good, then it can't be bad oh my god you really do want me dead winter. i'm on the floor. i'm going through every emotion humanly possible rn.

again i'm so in awe at this bc i don't typically read fics like this... but holy fucking shit. i'm just in awe at you. i'm so sat for more of this. once again saying that i can't even describe how this has captivated me. i wanna give your brain a big old kiss 🧎‍♀️

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

part 2 coming 8/16

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face.

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door.

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here.

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit.

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat.

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again.

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah�� a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like.

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression.

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug.

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you.

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full.

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.”

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial.

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing.

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today.

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits.

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother.

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down.

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why.

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night.

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened.

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples.

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items.

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?”

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of.

“Okay,” you agree excitedly.

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay.

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you.

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#dark!fic #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.4; Lantern Rite 3

X-Xiao...kissed me...? You still couldn't wrap your head around what just happened, even after he seemed to move on from the topic and sit back down on the viewing rock, his eyes casting a wonderous gaze at the lights that floated above the two of you. You were unaware that his and your eyes had flashed their signature glow when he placed a kiss between your brows, signaling the official sealing of your bond with the adeptus.

So it's sealed, Xiao made the conscious effort to keep his eyes on the lanterns while he thought to himself. Her pain should subside now. He could still hear the faint bustling of Liyue Harbor to the right of the cliff, and his lips twitched into a miniscule frown for a split second. I won't be able to hear her play music anymore. His gaze flit to you, still recuperating from his touch and a deep shade of crimson.

"Aren't you going to sit?" His words sliced through the silent air much like his blade.

"U-uh, yes!" You squeaked, putting a bit of space between your bodies in the process, mostly because of embarrassment. "So, um...the lanterns...do you like them?" Your fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

"They...are not half-bad," he begrudgingly admitted. When you sent him a glance, you noted the pink that painted the tips of his ears as he avoided looking your way.

"I'm glad I got to see you today," you smiled and returned your gaze to the sky. A comfortable silence befell you two, while the crickets began to sing and the fireflies assisted in lighting the hill alongside the lanterns. It was peaceful. Even after the lights of the lanterns dimmed and could no longer be seen in the air, the two of you sat overlooking the harbor.

"When will you be leaving?"

"At the end of the week, at the latest. We might be leaving tomorrow--er, I guess it's technically today now--but Childe hasn't said anything yet." You caught a glimpse of what you assumed to be dejection in his eyes, and tussled his hair.

"What are you doing? I'm not a child," he dodged you before your hand could mess his hair up even more. His eyes narrowed at you with suspicion, not quite knowing what you were getting at.

"You looked sad, so I thought I should cheer you up," you answered cheekily, much to his bemusement.

"I do not understand how patronizing me is supposed to 'cheer' me up," he watched your hand come up and run through his hair much gentler this time.

"I'd rather get you to banter with me than look like that." You had thought he would pull away again, but much to your surprise he held still--and even seemed to lean in slightly as if he enjoyed the gesture. "Can I play with your hair, Xiao?"

"Why bother asking when you're already doing it?" He half-complained before getting up and sitting in front of you so his back leaned against your shins and his head lay onto the spots above your knees. He made a show of false disinterest as per usual, but he ended his little charade with a slim smile as he looked up at your embarrassed expression.

He's never been this open, you struggled to comprehend his gestures while your hands re-embedded themselves in his locks. I’m blessed to see his smile. He watched you closely, observing the small waves of happiness, excitement, shock and embarrassment wash over your face. He observed the gentle nature in your eyes, and the content smile you'd return to him when you occasionally worked up the courage to meet his gaze halfway.

Eventually, you felt his shoulders relax and he allowed himself to put his full weight against you, his eyes hesitantly fluttering closed soon after. If a kiss to the eyelids was a sign of placing trust in one another, this had to be the ultimate display of trust coming from the adeptus. He never slept when you were adventuring with Aether--or at least, you never caught him batting an eye. Always said something like 'You have no respect for the ways of the adepti,' or 'Sleep is for mortals.'

And yet here you were, stuck between him and the rock you sat on, as his breathing turned slow and shallow, his face relaxing to that of a rare vulnerability of a long-lost innocence both of you thought he no longer had. It was clear he reveled in your touch as you traced circles along his scalp and lulled him to sleep with the soft familiar hum of your moonsong. Even after the lights of the stars were the only ones illuminating your dark surroundings, you continued to hold him.

The yaksha's dreams were light and fleeting, much like his natural agility in combat. Dreaming was rare, but when it happened, it seldom excluded the voices of bygone gods and wraiths. What was once an image of the human he came to love was now a void of indescribable darkness that loomed ever closer to his restrained soul. Threats of instilling terror, misfortune, and death upon you reached his ears, and the tension around his chest tightened until he found it difficult to breathe.

When he felt like he was drowning, being swallowed by the fear of losing you, hurting you, causing you pain--

You felt Xiao tense against you and peered down at him to find his eyebrows furrowed together and the corner of his lips twitching. Is he having a nightmare? You observed him for a moment, nearly jumping out of your skin when he--quite literally--began to growl much like an agitated animal. His eyes were still squeezed shut, albeit tighter than before, and his nails dug themselves into his skin like he was struggling to ground himself. The feral look on his face made your jaw tighten.

Once you recovered from having the daylights scared out of you, one of your hands left his hair and traced his temple in a circular motion. "It's okay, I'm here."

Xiao jolted awake, one of his hands shooting up to grab your wrist in a tight grip as if he had thought he was about to be attacked. His eyelids flew open just as quickly, his breathing an unsteady pant and his blurry vision finally coming to focus on the shadow of the concerned human that loomed over his body. His grip loosened when he realized it was you, and his thumb rubbed the spot where his nails had broken skin with a guilty look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He had moved so quickly, you weren't even aware that he had scratched you. You rotated your hand so that you could hold his, giving him a reassuring smile when he squeezed back. His gaze hardened as he lifted his head and broke eye contact.

"It was nothing." He was wide awake now, not being able to bear another one of those stupid dreams. He didn't need that right now; he just wanted to bask in your presence and forget about his worries. But that intense fear of his selfishness bringing harm to you loomed at the back of his mind as he glanced over to you.

Can I really indulge in such humanistic behaviors and put you in danger?

"Xiao? What's wrong?" There was that look again; it wasn't his usual indifferent expression, but one that revealed a heavy burden of anxiety in the depths of his pupils.

Can I allow myself to be vulnerable with you, without a guilty conscience? Zhongli even said himself that you would be in danger of his karma even after the bond is sealed...So why did he do it? Why did he admit his feelings while knowing it would cause you pain in the long run? Did human emotions cause him to think irrationally and make a brash decision? Is that what they do?

"...Xiao?"

"Rise." The adeptus swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and wrapped an arm around you until the surrounding world warped unsteadily. The feeling nearly made you vomit, but just as quickly as the world spun, it stopped and your feet were on steady ground again.

"Huh?" You caught your bearings and took a moment to recognize your surroundings. The two of you were in a small bedroom, with the moonlight falling through the window. "Is this Wangshu Inn? I-I can't...Childe said I can't be here--"

"Humans need sleep to function properly. You can't sleep outside." He shot you a stern look when you opened your mouth to protest further, and you couldn't help but think he was trying to push you away again.

This time, he was doing it a bit differently.

"Where will you sleep?" You gestured around the small room that had only one bed.

"I have business to attend to. I'll be back by sunrise."

You took a deep breath and took the plunge. "You can't run away from your fears, Xiao." The yaksha froze, one of his eyebrows twitching in response. "That's what you're doing right now, isn't it?"

"Mortals do not understand the burdens adepti--" A raised brow got the words stuck in his throat. The bond is sealed, is it not? How can she see right through me?

"I asked you to trust me, Xiao. Don't burden yourself so much. I can take some of the weight off your shoulders; all you have to do is let me."

A human helping an adeptus with his burden? It shouldn't be that way. What could you even do for me? The weight on my shoulders would crush you. He wanted to mutter the words, but it was clear they would fall on deaf ears at the moment. He desperately wanted to disappear from the room for your own protection against his karmic debt, and he would've, but...I don't want to leave just yet.

The yaksha positioned himself so that he leaned against the door while you got under the fluffy covers that lay on the bed. It had to be two in the morning by now, surely, your human mind must be exhausted. He could go without sleep after that awful dream earlier...

"Xiao?" Your half-whisper travelled through the dark room. "Can you, um...Will you...Could you maybe lay next to me?"

It took a moment for your words to be processed. Join her in bed? Why? "I'm naturally inclined to stand watch. Go to sleep." A meek and disappointed 'okay' from the bed drew a reluctant sigh from his lips, but you had already drifted off. It didn’t take long for the air in the room to grow unusually cold, and the familiar groans accompanying your nightmares to be heard.

................

"I won't let you take him!" Your cry dropped the temperature of the throne room below zero, and your captor laughed at the pitiful display of power. Despite your show of bravado, you were trembling before her.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's lips spread into a thin, daring smile. "Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are still and always will be under my control." The amusement didn't reach her eyes.

"Stay away!" A warning shot of solid ice grazed the Tsaritsa's cheek, to which her eyes narrowed after recovering from what you assumed was shock. Shock that you actually touched her. "If you dare to touch him, I'll--"

"You'll what?" She tested with a raised brow, motioning for Scaramouche to bring out the messy gift of a bloodied, unconscious--or dead--yaksha. He threw him at your feet.

"No!"

Your eyelids shot open, nose inhaling a deep, slow breath when your consciousness returned to the room in Wangshu Inn. Light flooded through the windows and illuminated your surroundings, and you could hear the local wildlife singing in the tree branches directly outside the window.

It seems like you also had an unconscious fear eating away at you, just like Xiao. But something about that nightmare was off...why did she look at you like that? The shock on her face...Was that your unconscious view of her, or was it something more? Surely she couldn't have actually been in your dream. The mere idea of it sent a chill down your spine.

And what was with this qingxin flower-scented pillow? It was nice and toasty, and--Oh my gods, why is it moving?!

"X-Xiao?!" Your gaze dropped to your arms, which were wrapped tightly around his abdomen. Your head shot up only to hit his lower jaw, drawing groans from both of you. I'm cuddling him?! What the hell?!

"You wanted me here," he muttered shyly while rubbing the spot you had just collided with. "You weren't sleeping well."

"But...But I thought you declined!" Despite your obvious distress, your grip around him didn't loosen, and he didn't make it a goal to move, either. He tensed when you returned to your original spot with your face buried at the crook of his neck. Your disturbing dream was long-forgotten now that you had this to worry about.

"You're telling me you don't remember dragging me under the covers?"

"EH?!" Your face burned hot with embarrassment and you raised your head to look at him in horror. This time, your grip around him loosened. I sleep walk? I don’t remember ever having that habit. What else have I done?! "Did I really do that?"

"Hmph." The slightest twitch at the corner of his lips. He was laughing at you. Foolish. Of course you didn't.

"You're so mean!" You gawked and reburied your face once you caught onto his amusement, his arm hesitantly slinking across you in response. You'd never been so close to him before. It was difficult to calm yourself from being so up-close and personal with him so early in the morning; the way his toned stomach rose and fell as he breathed, his breath tickling your ear; how muscular his arm felt on top of you...Ooooh, this was too much to deal with after just waking up--Archons, what're you even thinking this early in the morning?!

Xiao thought it was odd how often your ears turned a bright shade of red, but he never brought it up. He had a feeling if he pointed it out you would just turn a deeper shade and evade giving a straight answer. Maybe Zhongli or Aether could help him understand this weird human display...

...................

"Good morning, Zhongli! Aether! Paimon!" Your excited wave to the trio grabbed their attention as they walked through the main street of Liyue. "Sorry about, er, running away last night!"

"You're looking better," Paimon commented while a relieved Aether returned your greeting. "What's got your spirit up?"

"Hm?" Your fingers twitched. "Oh, uh, well..." You looked to Xiao for an easy getaway. "I found him, so..."

"I found you," the adeptus corrected, arms crossing across his chest as he avoided your gaze.

"Did you see the Mingxiao lantern? It exploded! It was so cool!" When you shook your head 'no,' Aether busily filled you in with graphic details of the largest plaustrite lantern in twenty years.

Xiao's avoiding eye contact, and you are brimming with happiness while sneaking glances at him...Zhongli observed you two extra carefully, taking note of every minute movement you were making. I see. The bond may or may not have sealed, but I am almost certain another event came to pass last night. These are the symptoms humans call 'afterglow,' are they not?

Zhongli cleared his throat and interrupted the animated conversation. "It is not a Liyue specialty, but why don't I treat you all to a meal of red bean rice?"

"Red bean rice? What's that?" Aether scrunched his eyebrows together when he didn’t recognize the name of the dish. It was a given he would be the one to pay for it all, so he was conditioned into automatically accepting the matter. It no longer surprised him that Zhongli would offer to pay despite lacking mora.

"Oh! Paimon knows this one!" The floating mascot hurriedly whirled around with stars in her eyes at the thought of food. "It's traditionally an Inazuman dish, but it is served on special occasions like weddings, birthdays, and--"

"What's the occasion?" It was your turn to send Zhongli a quizzical look, but Xiao looked disinterested in the conversation. "I don't remember any of our birthdays coming up, and we definitely don't have any weddings, either."

Zhongli thought it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he faced you with a straight expression. "In honor of your consummation, of course."

"WHAT?!" You nearly choked on nothing, while Aether and Paimon's jaws practically dropped to the floor. Today's morning air seemed to heat up quite a bit, aha...

"W-wait, Zhongli! You can't just blurt that out!" Paimon frantically waved her hands out in front of her. "People don't talk about that in public! It's inappro--"

"Wow, um," Aether awkwardly scratched the back of his head and released a nervous laugh. "This isn't really something I thought I'd have to hear about." He shyly averted his eyes to avoid your flabbergasted gawking.

"Wait! That's not...That didn't...!" You failed to blurt the words out as your cheeks heated up more and more. Oh boy, it was getting especially hot in the sun, wasn't it? "We didn't!" Your head whipped to Xiao, and you urged him on. "Say something!"

"I-is this true, Xiao?" Despite Aether's awkwardness, it was clear as day that he and Paimon just had to have confirmation to quell their disbelief and recover from the shock of Zhongli's bluntness. "Did you guys...?"

"We slept together, yes."

"XIAO!" Your shriek of horror caught the attention and annoyance of the strangers walking past the group as they were cleaning up from the Lantern Rite. Feeling all eyes on you, your shrunk in on yourself, face burning with even more embarrassment. The way he said it! Without so much as a smidge of hesitation! This humiliation was too much; honestly, you’d prefer if you could crawl into a hole and hide right now. "He didn't mean it like that!" You whisper-yelled at the trio, who all held smug, knowing expressions that weren’t too far off from that Albedo-fellow you met. "Will you stop?! We just slept next to each other, that's it! I swear!" You sent a slight glare in Xiao's direction.

"Oh-ho?" The all-too familiar sneer of a harbinger brought you a small sense of relief now that the attention shifted away from you. "That's it, ojou-chan?" Childe's cocky grin prompted you to roll your eyes. Finally, some color's returned to your cheeks. And that constant grimace of pain is absent, too...So their bond must be sealed; her Majesty will be pleased.

"Stay away from her! Aether!" Paimon gestured for the boy to pull his sword, and he did. Xiao simultaneously sidestepped ahead of you, his face distorting into a scowl. Zhongli, on the other hand remained still, his eyes the coldest you've ever seen.

"Relax. I'm not here to fight," Childe chided. He remained as relaxed and unconcerned as ever despite Aether pointing the edge of the blade at his throat. This man faced death with a smile-

"That's what you said last time, and you proceeded to attack us anyway," the traveler growled.

"That's in the past." Childe's eyes flit to Zhongli for a moment. Ah, so he still hasn't told them? Does the yaksha know, then? He caught the uneasy side glance Xiao gave his master. He does. This’ll be interesting. His gaze shifted to you. "You disobeyed orders last night, Mezzetin."

"Mezzetin?" Paimon's face twisted unhappily. "What kind of dumb pet name is that?"

"Step closer, and I'll use force," warned the yaksha, who didn't conjure his weapon to avoid the prying eyes of Liyue's citizens. Not that it would make a difference, anyway; people were already casting side glances at Aether's sword.

"No, you wouldn't. Not here," the harbinger called his bluff, and didn't remove his gaze from you. "So, I take it your time here was well-spent? Good. We'll be leaving tomorrow."

You took a half-step forward. "Tomorrow? But--"

"I'm afraid I have business to discuss with you," Zhongli finally broke his silence, and the atmosphere grew tense when Childe's gaze sharpened in response. "It may delay your leave."

"Oh? Whatever do you want to discuss with me, Mr. Zhongli?" The atmosphere grew heavier until it felt like the entire group was suffocating, Childe's icy smile sending chills down your spine. He wore his usual friendly façade, but that just made it all the more worrisome as his eyes were vacant and calculating.

"Uh-oh," Paimon squeaked, and disappeared.

"I'm sorry, dear friends, but I will have to take a rain check on our little celebration."

"We weren't even celebrating anything!" Heat rose to your cheeks until the archon sent you an admonishing look that told you it really wasn't the time for your chirps. He was practically emanating anger, hot and boiling to the point where you couldn't bear to stand there any longer. It was like being in a boiling pot of water.

"Come." Xiao snapped you out of your daze and encouraged you and Aether to follow him. "They have matters to discuss."

#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao genshin impact #red bean rice #comic relief #lantern rite #xiao fluff #genshin fluff #genshin angst #xiao angst #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #genshin fanfiction

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sooibian · 4 years ago

Text

Wherever You Are

Pairing: Kai x You as Lys ft. Baekhyun, Minseok, Yixing

Description: When you least expect it, love, quite literally, sweeps you off your feet

Themes: Romani AU, magical realism, romance, angst, drama ™ (i grew up on a healthy dose of Bollywood and it! shows!), secret relationship, heavily influenced by Mmmh Kai

Warnings: Blood, weapons, violence

Word Count: +9.5k (i’m sorry i haven’t had the time to proof-read this at all)

Tagging: @changshapatrol @rosetvler @bbyunz @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @royal-aeris @bbhmystar @his-mochi-cheeks @littleflowercrown13

Part of the Steampunk Romani AU collab with @leewalberg @vampwrrr @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme

Pre-reading notes:

1. This is a spin-off for Lys from Star-Crossed but it can be read as a standalone oneshot. I’ve tried my best to translate the events of that fic into Lys’ POV but feel free to shoot me a message if something still confuses you.

2. Lys is a mind-reader, Baekhyun has the ability to influence physical objects with his mind, Yixing is a dragon and he’s the leader of the clan (Bulibasha), and Kai - as we all know - can teleport!!

3. Glossary: bulibasha - clan leader, dado - father, dya - mother, gadjo - someone of non-romani descent / origin, dragă - darling, iubirea mea - my love, lautari - a group of romani musicians, zakono - a key institution for enforcing the Romani Code.

“Dado, can I go along with Minseok?”

“Where to, dragă?”

“To the horse fair....the one in the village?”

“That’s no place for a pretty princess such as yourself -”

“But..but.. dado!”

“The camp has everything you’ll ever need, dragă.”

You woke up to the same old chirping of crickets, the same old crimson, black, and gold panels draping your tent, the same old wine stained goblet on your nightstand, the same old aroma of steamed xaimoko and hearty cornbread, and... the same old stinging in your heart.

Lips stretched into a habitual wide grin, you greeted the lass who brought you dinner with a drawn out “Morning”.

“It’s seven in the evening, Lys. You know how your father feels about you sleeping during sunset!” Vera exclaimed and gathered her skirts to sit on the edge of your bed, her gentle fingers combing through to untangle knots in her mistress’ long, dark hair.

Having mastered the art of repressing the emotions that threatened to colour your expression at the mere mention of your father, feigning excitement, you took her hand in yours and coyly quizzed her on the topic she was dying to discuss, “Tell me more about the whitesmith boy, Vera? Did he prove to be,” you cleared your throat and said in a hushed whisper, “worth his mettle?” and drew the question out with a roaring laughter.

“Hush, Lys!” Said Vera bashfully, biting on her lower lip to suppress the smile that was beginning to form on her mellow, innocent face. The whitesmith boy, better known as Kris, was the clan’s most eligible bachelor until yesterday.

Young girls, in pairs or trios, would hide behind the shrubbery by the river to catch a glimpse of him shirtless, bring him bent out of shape wares to fix and polish - even the ones whose weights their delicate hands couldn’t bear - and watch him at his job for hours at an end as sweat would drip down his neck, making his light, cotton shirt cling onto his well defined back.

As any young man his age would, Kris surely enjoyed the attention but he didn’t thrive on it. His heart belonged solely to his beloved. He settled for the most simple woman, some would say for the want of a better word, but you were convinced that none of them had experienced the sweetness that was love.

You had - but only vicariously. Love, trust, anticipation, joy - all vicariously. The only emotions you truly understood, first-hand, were longing, anger, and sadness.

“Lys?” A finger poking into your side broke you out of your reverie.

“Hmm?”

“I said, yes.”

“What for?” You asked, an innocent eyebrow raised in question.

She only giggled in response and darted out of your tent. Grinning wide, you turned to your meal and just then the aggressive tramp of horses’ hooves and sharp, piercing cries of pain and fear from men, women, and children reached your ears. Before you could make sense of the situation, your shell-shocked eyes followed Vera’s body as it fell inside your tent with a dull thud, an arrow pierced through her chest.

Your dinner tray toppled over as you ran to her aid and struggled with the bitter truth that you could do nothing to breathe life into the one person out of the very few that truly cared for you. With your hand on her teared stained cheek, you listened to her conscience ferociously chant, dya...dya...take care of dya!

“I will, Vera. I promise to take care of your mother.”

Only when she was reassured did Vera allow life to drain out of her eyes while tears started to line yours and grief clawed at your throat. You began to drag her limp body towards the bed and it wasn’t long before a familiar face barged into your tent. Throwing his crossbow to the side, your brother helped you hoist Vera’s body up onto your bed.

“What’s going on -”

“We’ve been attacked by a group of dacoits. Stay inside. Whatever happens, do not leave your tent! You understand me?” Minseok commanded, his dark eyes piercing yours while blood trickled down the side of his face.

“You’re hurt -”

He shook his head and repeated, panic betraying his voice, “Just... stay safe, Lys. Will you?”

Breaking down into sobs you nodded frantically as the ugly realisation of loss washed over you. Minseok pulled you into a tight embrace, praying fervently, “It could’ve been you. It could’ve been you instead of - of Vera! Thank God! Thank God, it wasn’t you!”

His every word felt like a punch in the gut.

He then marched out with his crossbow in hand, vengeance in his eyes and your heart clenched with fear for your brother’s life. Hiding behind the entrance panels, you watched the scene outside.

The settlement was barren except for the dacoits and a handful of men from the clan out on the field; the rest had scurried into the safe confines of their caravans and tents. Men on horseback, dressed in black robes, had their faces covered in black scarves. They spoke a different tongue but you understood that they sought revenge. A life for a life, they repeated over and over in broken Romani. They menacingly circled Baekhyun with arrows and daggers pointed to his heart. Baekhyun’s stance was alert with his jamdhar in his hand as a majestic black and gold dragon hovered over them, a tattered body dangling from his spine chilling, bloody mouth.

It happened within a matter of seconds - the dacoits lay slain - some with arrows pierced through their chests, some eviscerated into smithereens and the rest crumbled to black dust - the doing of Minseok, Baekhyun, and Yixing respectively.

With one flap of his massive wings, Yixing descended, gracefully landing on his human feet as a man-servant trotted to his aid with a black robe to cover his modesty yet, very little was left to imagination.

“They really thought -”

Before Yixing could complete his sentence, an unconscious Baekhyun collapsed - right in the centre of the bloody chaos. That jamdhar is going to be his undoing, you said to yourself. A girl with dark unruly hair rushed to his side - your fiancé’s side - the sight turning your limbs to ice.

Your heart sank to your stomach but the edges of your mouth curled up in a smile as you met her eyes from a distance with sheer contempt in your own.

A man you didn't recognise, supported by two others on either side, was being ushered into Yixing's private chamber.

You felt a hand against the small of your back. Minseok whispered into your ear, "Dado wants to see you."

***

In the centre of the room slouched a man on a wooden chair, his hands roped together at the back, face bruised and bloodied - evidently the doing of your own brother.

“What’s all this?” You asked the three men surrounding him.

“The bandits left their dog behind,” spat Yixing.

“So? What am I supposed to do?” You directed the question to your father.

“We need to know who he is, where he’s from, and...why we were attacked.” Replied your father, eyes forcefully trained on the unconscious man on the chair.

“You should’ve probably left him with some life in his body to answer your questions.” You said to Minseok indignantly.

“Lys!” Your father was prepared to reprimand you at your insolence in front of Bulibasha.

“Dado - ”

“Lys, just hold his hand and tell us what he’s thinking.” Minseok tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with his calm voice.

“I have better things to do than hold a gadjo’s hand and listen to the filth of his mind. I’ll leave you big and strong men to it.” You sauntered over to your father, the corner of your mouth raised in a smirk. Dusting the lint off of his magnificent black and red woollen cloak that was embroidered along the edges with the finest gold thread, you sang, “I’m nothing more than just a pretty princess, anway.”

“Lys, please!” Cried Minseok.

“What would you have me do, Minseok? Stay here with you all while my fiancé is canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?” You retorted.

Yixing shot you a puzzled glance while Minseok and your father averted their eyes.

"It’s known to be their usual hideout.” You half-shrugged at Yixing, your casual tone not doing much to ease the frown lines on his handsome face.

While you were busy squabbling with your family, the man on the chair lifted his head up, rope evidently cut loose with a push dagger, and immediately all four pairs of eyes turned to him. Underneath the caked blood and grime on his face, he flaunted golden skin, luscious lips, and sharp, distinct features. His eyes met yours and crinkled into crescents as his lips curved into a disrespectful smirk.

He gave you a casual two-finger salute goodbye and��.vanished.

Breaking into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at the three men caught unawares, you turned on your heels and merrily skipped out of Yixing’s private chamber.

The next morning found you by the river, still trying to wrap your head around the events of yesterday. ‘Thank God it wasn’t you!’ Your brother’s gentle voice rang ominously in your ears. ‘But what if it was?’ you reasoned with yourself, ‘Would it have meant being finally free or trapped in a permanent state of oblivion?’ In tune with your mind, your feet wandered, taking you deeper into the viridian forest.

You stumbled upon something stock-still and landed on your back causing that something to stir and wince in pain as it slowly regained consciousness. You crawled as far away from it as you could only to recognize him by the pleated black cummerband around his waist. The gadjo struggled to hold himself up and flattened to the ground again.

His agony brought you some solace as Vera’s ashen face flashed before your eyes. Laughing, you exclaimed, "So this is how far you managed to get! A stone's throw from Bulibasha's tent."

The man winced again but a smile began to form on his lips. "Wa-water," he breathed but you leisurely rested your back against the trunk of a nearby tree and denied his request with a little shake of your head, “A life for a life, gadjo. Repay your debt. Your people killed my friend.”

“Not- not my doing,” he said throatily and began dragging himself towards the river. He was sculpted like the dancers of a lăutari - long and lean, elegantly broader along the shoulders and chest and enviably slim around the waist.

You offered him no help. Instead, waited with a bated breath for his soul to escape him. But his snail’s pace had started to exasperate you. So you begrudgingly volunteered to bring him water as his dying wish.

“Here you go, gadjo. Seeing the way my brother beat you up, a sip or two of water won’t be of much help, anyway.” You sneered, holding the edge of the cupped leaf to his bruised lips.

As he drank, colour slowly returned to his ghost-white, bloodied face. “Kai,” he said in a voice that was husky and deep.

“What?”

“It’s my name. You’d do well to remember it.” His face lit up with a smile and his eyes found your thick golden anklet bejeweled with iridescent beads. He flicked the bead trinkets with his finger and squeezed his eyes shut as if in admiration of a great symphony.

Before you could even make sense of the situation...of him...he vanished again.

Kai, you mouthed, curled up in bed at midnight.

“Kai,” you said the gadjo’s name out loud, the tips of your fingers tracing the movement of your lips and despite yourself, blood began to warm your face. It had been a week since you met him in the forest but the man had capsized your mind. You inwardly admonished yourself for not killing him when you had the chance - it was the least you could’ve done for Vera - but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him.

You saw truth in his innocent yet compelling eyes.

A whirlpool of emotions rose in your chest as you tossed and turned in bed causing a bead of your anklet to tangle with a loose silk thread from your quilt. Groaning, you sat up to undo it, and heard a sudden, loud crack.

Kai had unexpectedly appeared, standing at the foot of your bed. Arms crossed over his chest and head tilted to the side, he smiled down at you.

Returning his smile, you said, “If I scream, there’ll be at least ten men here, in no time, with sharp objects pointed at your throat.”

Gaze intertwined with yours, Kai knelt before you as his deft fingers found the troublesome bead. Smirking, he slowly pushed the quilt out of the way, and you instinctively pulled your skirts down below your knees. His mouth found the loose thread and he bit on it to free you from the restraint as his warm breath fanned your ankle and his soft lips brushed ever so slightly against your skin. As delicate as the touch was, it felt like being imprinted with a blazing hot cast-iron.

“If you truly wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have saved my life. And I’m here to thank you for that,” he smiled, and took the bold step of sitting next to you, on your bed. He then clicked his tongue, fingers ghosting along the curve of your ankle, and piped cockily, “Besides, you know I’d vanish before your sluggish men even manage to get here.”

“You think you’re very brave, gadjo?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a fool for walking into the lioness’ den.”

His expression suddenly turned solemn. Studying your face intently, he whispered, “I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t -”

“You didn’t what?” Your heart thumped wildly in your chest in a rather desperate anticipation of his innocence. So you immediately placed your clammy hand upon his trembling, cold one.

His voice grew thick with anguish as he explained, “I didn’t know those men were going to storm your clan. I’d only met them that morning. They said they were traveling south and I - I really had nowhere to go so I joined them without giving it much thought. I was desperate for company.”

His words were very much in line with his thoughts and memories. Images of the dacoits just as you’d seen them that evening, their boisterous banter, their journey towards the settlement, the food and wine and spoils they shared along the way, all flashed before your eyes.

You knew a liar when you saw one - their features were drawn out a bit differently, you’d believed. Baekhyun was a liar. He’d lied when you had asked him if he loved you. But Kai on the other hand…

“At the time you didn’t realize that they were plunderers?” You asked delicately.

“All I understood was that they weren’t men of strong character. But I didn’t care for their morality. I knew I could protect myself if worse came to worst.”

“Why didn’t you simply run...vanish when they besieged my clan?” As hard as you tried, you failed to keep the edge off of your voice.

The pitch of Kai’s voice rose as he continued to explain, “I grew numb...my hands and legs and...mind...I’ve seen war and suffering and I didn’t expect to cross paths with tragedy again so soon. So I - nobody noticed this at the time because of the chaos - but I fought on your side. I tried to save as many as I could.”

You contemplated on his words for a moment without realizing that his fingers were now laced with yours.

“- when my brother found you, you just -”

“I thought I - ,” his voice dropped and lower lip quivered slightly, “ - deserved the punishment.”

Fighting back your tears, you asked, “Why didn’t you explain this to them?”

“Did you see the look on your brother’s face? And the dragon’s? He was breathing fire even in his human form. They were ready to bring me to justice for the crimes I didn’t commit.”

You gave Kai a quick once-over. His face still bore bruises from the beating but his clothes were impeccable. Rich, even. He was dressed in a blue cashmere smock, red velvet pants, and his fingernails were coated in a deep teal. He wore a beaded bracelet on his right wrist that sparkled in the dim lighting of your tent - as did the platinum ring laced with exquisite tiny diamonds on his right hand index finger.

Had the dacoits looted him, they would’ve comfortably lived on the gains from the ring alone for a good part of the year. What was the need for them to tread such a great distance to loot your clan, you wondered.

Yet again, you grew wary of the man before you.

“Why are you telling me all this?” You asked.

“Because I don’t want you to resent me for the death of your friend.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you asked defensively, “Why do you care what I think, gadjo?”

“Kai,” he corrected you and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, he disappeared again.

The scattered morning light filtered through the thicket and descended in brilliant pearls in the unshackled stream of water amidst the medley of the trinkets on your anklet, the ballads of songbirds, and gushing water hitting rubbled mass as you tiptoed deeper into the forest.

A firm grasp balanced you by your arm as you hopped over rocks to cross the stream.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re tailing me, gadjo.” You teased him.

“Here,” he thrust some peeled almonds in your hand as soon as you got to the other side. Smiling, he said, “eat up. These extraordinary tiny things will help with your poor memory.”

He walked ahead of you, guiding, as you both slipped further into the capricious forest.

“You leave only to come crawling back so soon, Kai?” Although you uttered his name almost derisively, you felt heat rising up your cheeks as it fell from your lips.

“You see? The almonds help.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You merely scoffed in response.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” He asked, retaining a casual tone.

Letting out a deep sigh, you bombarded him with your well thought out mental list of questions in response. The questions that had plagued your mind since your very first encounter with him.

“Where are you from, gadjo? Don’t you have a home? A... girl waiting for you?” You deliberately held on to his arm on the pretext of steadying yourself ...and his mind drew a blank.

I can’t remember anything before you.

You were about to say something more but then stopped short, retreating until your back hit the trunk of a tree. He followed and halted only at a hair breadth’s distance from you, towering over, as sunlight danced on his skin.

He breathed, “You tell me. Do I?”

“Hmm?” Brows quirked, you stared right back into his eyes as his head continued to lower slowly and you, despite yourself, started going up on the tip of your toes, his hand around your waist holding you steady.

“Do I have a girl,” he whispered, his index finger lifting your chin up, his warm breath tickling your face and his lips ghosting over yours, “waiting for me?”

Your eyelids drooped almost instinctively as the back of his fingers gently caressed the side of your face.

“Kai -”

He chuckled, swiftly scooping you up in his arms. You felt your whole body squint and your ears popped rather painfully. It wasn’t long before Kai’s feet found firm ground in a meadow full of beautiful plume thistles while you stayed burying your face in the crook of his neck, eyes firmly squeezed shut.

He gently put you down but your legs gave out. Feeling squeamish, you berated him, “Warn me the next time, yes?”

He pulled you in a tight embrace, panic betraying his voice, he asked, “Are- are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize!”

“How do you survive this at all? It’s- it feels terrible! I feel horribly queasy and my spine is trying to claw its way out of my back!” You argued aimlessly.

“One gets used to it.” He said softly as you lay on your back and he lied down next to you.

“Where are we?”

“We’re very close to Cluj-Napoca. Prince Jongin’s would-have-been kingdom.” His vague and casual tone was starting to vex you a little.

“Prince Jongin?” You enquired rather haughtily.

He answered, “Yours truly,” and bent his neck down in a bow.

“You - you’re a prince?”

He turned to face you and you excitedly followed suit. Tracing your jawline with his finger he whispered, “Not anymore. I mean - forget it, it’s a long story.” He sighed and turned his face to the clear blue skies again.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you urged him to continue, “I have all the time in the world.”

He took a moment to contemplate on your words and then his own before indulging you with a wistful smile on his face, “I turned out to be someone..something nobody expected out of me. More capable than the rightful heir, more popular with the people, more popular within the court, and more popular with the King himself.”

“Hmm...I’ll need a little more than that.”

Kai chuckled, his eyes crinkling into half moons again. “Three months ago, Cluj-Napoca was attacked by the Kingdom of Bucharest. My father - the King - was recovering from an affliction of the nerves at the time. Although I am not much of a fighter myself...well, I wasn’t trained to be one but what I lack in strength, I make up for in agility.. I led the army into battle and we managed to protect our territorial integrity and independence.”

Kai had been continuously fidgeting with the lace on his black tunic while narrating the story of his bravado, leaving you utterly astonished at the duplexity of his personality.

“So what went wrong?” You asked, studying him closely.

“The thing is I am not the King’s legitimate son,” he laughed and continued the story in a slightly higher pitch as if imitating someone, “I was born out of love, says my mother. I’m the son of a concubine.”

“But, if after everything, the King was in your favour then why did you leave?”

“He was toying with the idea of making my half-brother renounce his title. So before matters could get any worse for her son, the Queen asked me to ‘disappear into the night’ as compensation for not driving me to the streets when I was a mere boy.”

Aghast, you enquired, “So you just left?”

He simply shrugged and replied, “I am not built for a life of frivolity and merely keeping up appearances.”

“But what of your mother?”

“She’s not built for a life otherwise than of frivolity and keeping up appearances. Besides, she’s been offered an elevated position within the court by the Queen after my disappearance and she intends on keeping it. And as for my father...well, he thinks I’m a traitor who abandoned his own people. That’s why on the day that your clan was raided...I couldn’t think straight. The war with Bucharest has clearly taken a heavy toll on me...suffering of others is far beyond the level of my tolerance.”

“But what about your subjects? Tell me, how are you so casual about this?”

“You’re the daughter of the richest man in the clan. Why do you want to leave?”

“It’s not the same. Also, how do you know what I want? And- and don’t answer a question with a question. It’s annoying.”

He huddled closer to you and bragged, “It’s all in your eyes.”

“Enough, gadjo, this is not about me.” Your face flamed and your stomach was in knots in anticipation of his answer.

He let out a heavy sigh and replied, “Life is an adventure that is best lived boldly. I can go wherever I want, whenever I like. Why should someone like me bear the stifling burden of a crown when I can be...free.”

True to his character, Kai yet again appeared out of nowhere, took the heavy jute tote out of your hand and asked, “Don’t you have a handmaiden for these things?”

He was dressed entirely in black - dress shirt tucked into fitted trousers - and his face was covered with a sequined veil mask, leaving only his alluring eyes exposed. To say that you were not used to his abrupt appearances would be a gross understatement.

“I’m picking up some specific things for Vera’s mother...also, we’re in the middle of a bazaar, gadjo! You’re growing bolder by the day.”

“Lys, did you forget to take your almonds this morning?”

You scorned, “Do you have a death wish? If my brother sees you here... or the dragon... or..”

“Your precious fiancé?” He teased. “The one who’s..what was it again? Yes, the one who’s busy canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?”

Suppressing a grin, you gave him the side-eye and asked, “So you’re different, then? Better than Baekhyun?”

“Vastly! Tremendously! Immensely! Extremely!”

Shaking your head, you shot him an offhanded remark, “I don’t believe you.”

He immediately grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you inside what seemed like a dingy storage room for grains and pulses. Setting the bag down on the floor, he looked you in the eyes and roughly placed your hand on his chest.

”Don’t you think I’m different? Don’t you believe that I’m better? Don’t you understand I can make you happy? Truly happy?” He asked, his heart pulsing against your fingertips.

The overwhelming words you want to say...talk to me comfortably...I’ll listen to you...loosen the boundaries...I’m like you, too.

Eyes glistening, he pleaded, “Fly away with me.”

“No.” You stated plainly while your head and heart hammered wildly at the words he so bravely uttered and the ones he didn’t.

Brows knit together, his face scrunched in comprehension of your answer. “Why not?”

“It makes me squeamish.” You shrugged.

“Stop being funny.”

“You’re being funny. Whatever happened to you wanting to be free?”

“I don’t understand.”

Arms defensively crossed over your chest, you looked away from him and muttered, “You know what I mean -”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I didn’t mean I wanted to be free from you!” Kai’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he continued to argue, “Please don’t tell me you’re in love with the idiot you’re engaged to.”

“Of course not! It was just an arrangement to keep his loyalties with the family.”

“Then what is it?” He asked in his softest voice.

“I can hear the words you don't say, gadjo.” You bellowed, nearly throwing him back.

He shushed you before asking in a whisper, “So?”

“Isn’t it terrifying?” You struggled to keep your voice low at his very tempting yet terrifying proposition.

“On the contrary, in fact. I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. I say the things I don’t mean and freeze when I’m expected to say something. I’m easily misunderstood, Lys.”

“But everyone has secrets that they’d like to keep...secret. And from where I stand, you’re a man of too many secrets, gadjo.”

“And you’re the woman capable of unveiling them all. Look, I have nothing to hide and I don’t even want to keep anything from you. The rest,” he gulped hard before continuing, “is up to you. Think about it, would you rather be trapped in a loveless marriage? You’re the bravest woman I know, Lys. Don’t try to run away from truth.”

Ever since you’d met Kai, he was all you could think of. With him you felt safe and happy - the two emotions that had eluded you for the longest time. You wouldn’t dare to admit this to yourself but as frightening as it was, you also felt loved. All these years caught in an airless vortex, you felt like you could finally breathe - finally someone wanted you for who you were and not what you pretended to be - but something was still holding you back.

***

Kai’s words kept you up all night.

Eloping with him was a solution to all of your problems but it meant bringing shame to your family. You knew for a fact that you’d never be happy at the cost of their happiness. Sleep and answers eluding you, you scraped your hair up in a bun and threw a shawl over your shoulders to go see your father.

The fragrance of sandalwood mixed with liquor pervaded the air as you knelt beside his sleeping form. Age had started to prominently line his skin yet he looked a lot youthful without a scowl painted across his features. You planted a soft kiss on his forehead and the back of his hand, perennially struggling with your feelings towards him. He was your father, after all, and you couldn’t say that he never loved you. You only wished that he tried to understand you better.

“Dado,” you whispered against his hand, “I love you.” and broke down, sobbing quietly.

Suddenly, his disturbing thoughts came unravelled to you, filling you with unbridled rage and fear.

Fear for Kai’s life.

“You ice-veined monster...” You whispered against his hand before storming out of the tent.

“We have to stop seeing each other, gadjo.” Avoiding Kai’s eyes, you broke it to him as coolly as you could, caging a maelstrom of emotions within you.

“Would you stop calling me that? It’s cold and impersonal.” He took your hand in his as you both continued to trod lightly into the forest.

“And you’d like me to be warm...and personal..with a gadjo.. Because?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes at your remark but at this point you wanted nothing more than to save his life. When you grew to be so protective of Kai, you couldn’t tell but you knew you would do anything to save him from your vicious father. And to be able to do that, you needed him gone for good.

“Because I’m not just anyone. I am...” Breathing heavily, he pinned you to a tree.

Yours, roared his conscience. Unambiguously.

A welcome warmth seeped into your veins but you maintained a stoic demeanour. If he could hear your thoughts he’d take you away...far, far away from this stockade you called home. Tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back, spilled from your eyes as he lowered his mouth to meet yours in a deep kiss.

“We can’t be together, Kai.” Breaking the kiss, you pushed him away and sank to the ground, weeping.

Despite your protests, he carried you in his arms. Smiling, he nodded to gain your attention and trust before yelling, “Three…,” You engaged your core at “Two” and at “One” you felt a familiar uncomfortable knot in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s dark here.” You remarked, while still in the protective comfort of his arms.

“It’s night time in this part of the world, dragă.” He explained putting you down on your feet.

“Oh..you just called me -”

“I’ve been learning your tongue, iubirea mea.”

You were grateful for the darkness as it concealed just how smitten you were. Swiftly changing the subject, you asked, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere far, far away,” said Kai and you heard the smile in his voice, “at the edge of a crater of a volcano. But not to worry, it’s an inactive one.”

“How boring!” You teased, as he carefully sat you down.

A blanket of stars glimmered above as you and Kai cuddled closer to each other, enveloped in a cool breeze.

“Lys,” Kai’s eyes shone brighter than the stars as he turned to face you, “whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll work it out. My father once said that there is no problem so complex, nor crisis so grave that cannot be satisfactorily resolved within twenty minutes. And twenty minutes is all we have. Right?”

“I have to be back in time for -”

“For lunch, yes.”

“Let me tell you a story,” you said, and Kai lay down, resting his head in your lap.

“Go on,” he urged you, the tip of his index finger meeting your nose in a little pat.

With your hand on his forehead, you narrated, “There was once a couple who married for love, much against the wishes of the Elders of their village. Because of this, the newlyweds were driven out. They wandered for weeks without food and water, travelling far and wide, seeking shelter...and acceptance. One day they found,” you swallowed hard and Kai’s expression turned solemn. He gently caressed your face with his fingers, calming you down to help you continue, “they found us. Our clan, I mean and my father was Clan Leader at the time. The woman had grown fragile and sick and was in an urgent need of care but my father denied them shelter. ‘They’ve been expelled for a good reason,’ he maintained. He lacked the basic human decency to even offer them some food for sustenance. They camped outside the settlement, pleading with anyone and everyone who crossed paths with them...until...until the woman could take it no longer. She died in her sleep and the man vowed to annihilate all those who were responsible for her death - our clan included. The leader of the dacoits who brought you to the clan that day is the man in the story, Kai.”

Brows furrowed, Kai opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“My father - he - he recognized the man the day they stormed our settlement. And after everything, when he found you, it was like he’d struck gold. He was all set to incriminate you because our clan won’t rest until someone’s been punished. But truly - it’s all his fault. Had he not denied them refuge, the man wouldn’t have harboured resentment against us. Now he knows about us. He knows that you come to see me...he’s been keeping a close eye on us to be able to capture you at the right time. It won’t be long before he succeeds, Kai. So you must- I mean, we can’t -,” you huffed, “after all, I’m engaged to be married. Minseok and Yixing are going to pay Baekhyun a visit tomorrow to fix a date for the wedding.”

Biting on his lower lip, Kai contemplated on your words for a while before speaking again. “Seventeen minutes. I have a plan. Do you trust me?” He looked at you with mischief twinking in his deep, dark eyes and a smile teasing the edges of his lips. You replied with a hesitant nod.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” You said.

“Anything,” Kai said with a smile. He closed his eyes and placing your hand on his chest.

“You can be anywhere, everywhere and with anyone, yet-”

“Yet?”

“You know what I mean,” your voice trailed off.

“I can be anywhere and everywhere,” said Kai, cupping your face in his hands, “but I want to be by your side. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Don’t you see why it makes me upset when you say that we can’t see each other anymore? Don’t you see the irony? You can’t tell me that I can ‘port anywhere, except where I actually want to be. I love you, Lys.”

Looking straight into his eyes you said softly, “Love is a strong word.”

Brows quirked, he enquired, “Does it scare you?”

Your eyes glistened with tears as you responded, “As selfish as it may sound, I don’t want to bring dishonour to my family.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“But what if your plan fails?”

“It won’t. And if at all it does, I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound. As for me, it’d be an honour to die for love.”

He loosened your fist open and placed a small china jar in your palm. You opened to find almonds in it. He grinned wide, and said, “Fresh ones.. in case you’d run out.”

If you loved Baekhyun you would’ve, without a doubt, stabbed the woman with the same knife that she sat polishing.

For the longest time you’d tried to hate her for being the object of your fiancé’s affections, admire her for her bravery, admonish her for her recklessness for if anyone were to ever find out… but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for or against her.

Pivoting your attention to Kai’s best laid plan, chin up and voice firm, you said to her, “Show me your best blade.”

“What do you need it for?” She asked nonchalantly, entirely focused on the task at hand. Sure you’d grown softer since you’d met Kai but for her to not acknowledge a former Clan Leader’s presence fueled your anger.

You walked over to her and rested your hands on her shoulders, squeezing a little too harshly than you’d intended to. You wished she were thinking about anything other than Baekhyun but you weren’t surprised to find that she wasn’t.

“Lys!” She exclaimed, almost falling out of the little worn out wooden stool. She met your eyes, albeit with great difficulty.

Deliberately curling your lips into your best feature - a sinister smile, you whispered in her ear, “One that is good enough for carving a man’s heart out of his chest,” before tossing a piece of silver in her direction and strutting out with a navaja, a fighting knife.

***

“Do you have it?”

Kai appeared in your tent as you sat leisurely, snacking on peeled almonds.

“Solve a mystery for me. How do you always find me because I’ve never seen you wander in through the entrance panels. You just pop up out of nowhere.”

“We have an important task at hand.” He said, sitting down next to you, bearing the mannerism of an army general.

“No, I need to know. Now.”

Kai groaned at your unpredictable temperament and slapped his thighs.

“Alright, if you must know,” he said in a seductively low voice, leering at you as his nimble fingers drew circles along your foot. He slowly drew your skirts up with his other hand and you immediately smacked it down in protest.

“Fine,” he chimed. Letting out a sigh, he tugged at your anklet, “The sound of this has been burned into my memory. It’s how I find you everytime.”

“How very romantic. What if I were to take it off?” You asked playfully.

He tilted his head to the side, a hint of annoyance on his face. Firmly, he said, “Please, don’t.”

“Alright, alright!” You exclaimed at the sudden shift in his mood. “So what’s next?” You asked.

He removed an unassuming little vial from the pocket of his buckskin waistcoat and said, “This.”

You recognized the design of the vial - the opaque green glass bottle and its mouth closed with a black cork, “A spell?”

“The dragon’s wife is too trusting!” He exclaimed cockily.

“You went to see Bulibasha’s wife -”

“Assuming a disguise, of course!”

“Are you insane?!”

“Does it come as a surprise?”

“What did you tell her?!”

“I told her that this spell is the only way I can be with the one I love. And I wasn’t lying.”

“You really have a death wish, gadjo!”

“Kai!”

It took you a little while to calculate the risks of his audacity. Gaping at him, you finally spoke again, “Tell me what’s next. I have the blade.”

“Excellent.” He held the bottle up to your eye level and explained, “I’m going to sprinkle this on the Bladerunner when she’s on her way back home in the evening and her worst fears will come alive and start gnawing at her. And what do you think is her worst fear?”

“Losing Baekhyun.” You answered in a haughty disdain.

Kai chuckled. “Perfect. You said your brother and the dragon are going to visit your pretty little fiancé tonight? This spell will get the better of the Bladerunner and against her best judgement, she’s bound to go to see Baekhyun around the same time. The two men already have their suspicions about her and to catch her visiting Baekhyun at an ungodly hour will only reinforce their worst fears and this time they’ll not be able to wriggle out of it. Baekhyun and the Bladerunner will definitely be called into the dragon’s spine-chilling, morbid private chamber after that and a decision will be made.”

“What does that mean for us?” You asked, adrenaline making your blood quicken.

“Leave that to me. All you have to do is be there before they pronounce a decision and request a private audience with the dragon and your brother. And remember to,” he grabbed the navaja from your nightstand, its cutting edge reflecting the glint in Kai’s eyes. The corners of his mouth curled up, he quipped innocently, “use this well.”

The day unfolded exactly the way Kai had predicted.

Baekhyun and the Bladerunner had been called into Yixing’s private chamber at dawn. It was too early for the clan to start it’s day so you waited outside the tent just as Kai had instructed, listening closely for the right time to make an entrance. A loud and intense argument ensued between Minseok, Yixing, and Baekhyun - the three men who might as well be sworn brothers.

If you’d never met Kai, you would’ve thought that Baekhyun was being dramatic - fighting tooth and nail to save himself from heartbreak. It was a little selfish, you thought. Hearts mend, your father said to you when you had begged him not to put down your pet goat when she’d injured herself.

“But not without leaving a deep scar,” you muttered to yourself before barging into Bulibasha’s private chamber.

Seeing your father’s arrogant portrait next to the dragon’s in Yixing’s private chamber bolstered your bitterness towards him. Without another thought, you struck the portrait in its right eye with the navaja. That wasn’t what the knife was intended for but it was akin to killing two birds with one stone. As it went flying towards the portrait, it nicked the Bladerunner’s ear since she heroically pushed her lover out of harm’s way.

“Lys! You’ve ruined Father’s portrait!” Your dutiful big brother lambasted you.

Having dressed for the occasion in a red, black, and gold robes, and lips painted in a delicious scarlet, you walked with a deliberate swing in your hips, your dark, waist length hair emulating the movement. You allowed your fingernails to brush the Bladerunner’s arm as you sauntered over for the navaja under eagle-eyed stares.

With the knife in your hand, you came and stood before the Bladerunner, placed a hand on her cheek and whispered, “You have beautiful skin, Bladerunner. I’d hate to ruin it,” as you ran the edge of the navaja along her neck, pressing it just enough to leave her with a superficial cut. You were sure Baekhyun was bound to overreact, and he did.

He pulled you out of the way, standing like a barrier between the woman he loved and the one he tolerated. His firm grasp around your wrist was starting to hurt you but you maintained an unwavering demeanour. Your eyes landed on Baekhyun’s exposed sternum. It had been a while since you saw him without the basil necklace. The necklace was a testament of the promise you made to love and cherish each other forever but it was obviously no more than an accessory to him.

“Hand it over. It never looked good on you, anyway.” You whispered and extended your hand toward him. Without a word, he slapped the necklace into your palm. Your heart hammered widely against your ribs because things were going exactly the way they were supposed to but in your experience it was never a good sign.

You knew what Baekhyun was going to do next. The look in your eyes taunted and teased him until he finally snapped. Baekhyun grabbed the dagger from your hand amidst loud gasps from everyone present.

He’d done it.

One prevalent belief still held by the clan was that taking a knife straight from someone’s hand meant that the relationship between the giver and the recipient had been severed.

Baekhyun had finally severed his relationship with you. Despite the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, you smiled inwardly at Kai’s genius.

“Baekhyun! What have you done?” Yixing’s voice thundered, echoing loudly in everyone’s ears but the enormity of his action was clearly lost on the Baekhyun. He continued to plead, “If the Bladerunner is to be punished, Bulibasha, I deserve a harsher punishment. I don’t care what the Zakono says. You can’t go on acting like she was alone in this!”

Minseok seemed firmly rooted to his place as he shot daggers at Baekhyun, his cat-like eyes disapproving Baekhyun’s out-of-character rebelliousness.

Now’s the time, you thought to yourself before being the one to break the uncomfortable silence. “He seeks her when he’s upset. And even when he’s not.” You turned to bow before Yixing and appealed, “Bulibasha, I would like to request a private audience.”

***

An exhausted Yixing slumped to the floor with his back against his spectacular dragon portrait. Face buried in hands, he groaned, “You young people really know how to complicate matters.”

“I agree,” Minseok joined in the whining while pouring wine into three goblets.

“Yixing, you have to stop acting like we have decades between us. And Minseok, put that down! It’s too early in the day for wine! Tell me what you’d rather have me do. He’s been in love with the Bladerunner forever.” You tried reasoning with them but Minseok only shook his head indignantly at your words.

“Baekhyun can’t do this to us after everything our family’s done for him. We took him in, fed him, clothed him. This is not how he repays us!” Minseok exclaimed.

You couldn’t help but draw parallels between Kai and Baekhyun’s journey so far. While they didn’t have a lot in common, one thing was for sure. They’d forever been treated like outsiders in their own homes.

“Bulibasha -” You turned to plead with Yixing.

“This is a nice switch from Yixing for when you want to reprimand me to Bulibasha for when you need something from me.” Chastised Yixing, tilting his head to the side, expression blank.

Eyes downcast, you mumbled, “I don’t want to go ahead with the wedding.”

“The Lys I know would want revenge. The Lys I know would’ve asked for his head on a spike. And hers, too!” Yixing exclaimed.

“I’m just not the same Lys anymore. The both of you really need to stop trying to control everything and everyone around you. Minseok, you know we have better fighters now and we don’t really need Baekhyun anymore. And you can’t use me to keep him by your side forever. Besides,” you got up to fetch a goblet of wine for yourself, “forgive me but… i need some liquid courage before I -”

“Please don’t tell me you’re serious about the gadjo.” Minseok muttered nonchalantly, with blatant disregard for the surprise his statement had taken you with.

Steadying yourself by tightly gripping the goblet, you asked, “You know about him?!”

“Of course, I do!” Minseok exclaimed, “I mean, we do, Yixing and I both. You thought you’d disappear randomly and nobody would ever find out? The gadjo even procured a spell from the Clan Leader’s wife! It was foolish, if you ask me.”

You offered no further explanation and said instead, “Kai. It’s his name. You’d do well to remember.”

Fuming, Yixing bellowed, “Have you no shame, Lys? His people stormed our clan. We lost no fewer than eight lives that day! You lost Vera! Have you forgotten already?”

With no care in the world, you started to defend Kai, “I haven’t forgotten and I never will. But the monsters who raided us weren’t his people. He was just as surprised by it as we were. Whatever happened is Dado’s fault.”

It was Minseok’s turn to rebuke you, “Lys, I know you love to blame him for everything but this is a serious matter. You’re taking things too far.”

“No, Minseok, it honestly is!”

Minseok and Yixing listened carefully as you revealed to them the secrets your father had been harbouring and how it was his ruse to pin the blame of the raid on Kai. Neither of them spoke for quite some time, trying to assimilate the information you’d just shared with them.

“Lys,” said Yixing calmly, as Minseok sat with his hand over his head, “even if what you say is true, you know the Zakono does not permit you to marry a gadjo.”

“Bulibasha, say that I was snatched...taken...it’s better than saying that I ran away. I can’t bear to be here any longer.” You walked over to where your brother sat, shaken and furious. You took his hands in yours, looked into his eyes and cried, “Minseok, someone like me is not meant to be confined… I want to be out in the world, moving constantly, exploring, unearthing its marvels and wonders, its deepest ...the most well kept secrets, just- just living. I am begging you to let me live!”

“Lys, that’s enough!” Interrupted a new voice, bringing you a sudden surge of relief.

You turned around to find Kai in light-toned pink fitted trousers and a broad cummerbund around his slim waist that accentuated the elegant lines of his body. A relaxed chiffon and lace tunic in the same pale pink shade with flared sleeves that closed around his wrists was tucked into the cummerbund and his ebony hair fell in silken locks over his forehead.

He took confident strides towards Yixing, and stated with a sense of surety in his eyes, “If we wanted, we could’ve disappeared without a trace.”

“Get out, gadjo,” said Minseok in a dangerously low voice, “nobody needs you here.”

“The woman I love does,” answered Kai coldly, “so I will stay until she asks me to leave.”

Anger igniting his momentum, Minseok lunged forward and punched Kai in the chest with all the strength he could muster causing Kai to stumble several feet back.

“Look at him!” Spat Minseok as you rushed to Kai’s aid while he struggled to gain his bearings. “What a weakling! I cannot trust him to protect my little sister.”

Regaining your composure, you said to your brother in a threateningly calm voice, “Minseok...don’t make me say it.”

Minseok turned to you, face scarlet and eyes bloodshot. He demanded, “What is left to be said, Lys?”

Brows furrowed you looked him in the eyes as your heart threatened to leap out of your chest. “Father doesn’t have a lot of years left and... you know how bad it’ll be if word got out we were raided because of his misdeeds...the wrong decisions he made as Clan Leader.”

Minseok laughed darkly and shot you a disgusted look. “You’re right, Lys. You’re clearly not a child anymore. But what would you rather have me do, huh? Disrespect the Zakono? Give you away to a man who abandoned his own people? One who doesn’t have a place to call home?”

“Minseok, that’s enough,” commanded Yixing, causing Minseok to stop at once. Hands on hips, he continued, “Everyone has the right to choose their own destiny. And I’m sure you understand this better than I do, you can’t expect our headstrong Lys to change her mind easily especially when it’s set on something. We’ll let you have your way, Lys. But -” Yixing’s scrutinizing gaze met Kai’s kind eyes.

Yixing reached for the leather coffer which sat in an inconspicuous corner of the tent. You’d been to the private chamber multiple times for various reasons before but you’d never noticed the coffer. He crouched over it, rummaging for something specific. It was a few minutes before he rose to his full height again, a talisman in his hand, his face saying nothing in particular.

He split the talisman in two, fastened one half of it to a black thread and quietly tied it around your neck and gave the other piece to Minseok. The talisman was similar to the one he wore around his wrist. It was very much like a jade stone, flickering in various shades of green as if alive and breathing.

“The talisman will tell us where you are - at all times. It’ll turn red to signal us when you’re in mortal danger. If that is to ever happen, no matter where you are, you know I’ll find to you in no time. And when the light goes out - ” before the mood could turn somber, Yixing continued with a voice heavily laced with pride, “Don’t ever think about taking the talisman off. Well, the truth is, you couldn’t even if you tried. This thread has been strengthened by a number of powerful charms and spells..fashioned by my own wife.”

You responded only with an understanding nod, the realization that you were finally going to have it your way had not sunk in yet. Yixing and Kai shared a look before Kai walked over to him with a grave expression on his face. Yixing drew a dagger out the bandoleer strapped around his thigh and Kai placed his hand on the teakwood desk in the room.

“Make it quick, Bulibasha,” said Kai.

“What’s going on?” You whispered into Minseok’s ear.

Minseok sighed before responding in a clipped tone, “Proof that we fought for you when the gadjo was taking you away as revenge for the death of his dacoit friends. But the gadjo just.. vanished with you and all we managed to get was -”

Your conversation was interrupted by Kai’s muffled cry of pain as he collapsed at Yixing’s feet.

“- a little finger.”

In a state of blind panic, you rushed to be by Kai’s side, struggling to form words. You were aware that Yixing wouldn’t let you go without proof of Kai’s commitment towards you but you never imagined it would come to this.

“Take this,” Yixing held the mouth of a vial to Kai’s lips as he grappled with consciousness. Kai hurriedly gulped down the milk of the poppy which knocked him out almost immediately. While he was asleep, Yixing called for his woman to clean and bandage him.

***

You spent that time sitting next to a sulking Minseok.

Setting aside his pride, Minseok finally asked, “Will you atleast come visit?”

You rested your head on your brother’s shoulder and he instinctively huddled closer to pat it affectionately. “Every full moon, I promise,” you replied softly as a silent tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled out a heavy drawstring pouch from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to you saying, “Keep this.”

You shook the purse in your hand until the coins jingled and then reprimanded Minseok, “Kai’s father is King for god’s sake! He can take care of me.”

“But I still want you to have it. I had so many dreams.. the wedding I’d planned for you..” said Minseok as tears sparkled like diamonds in his eyes, “please...keep it.”

You pulled your brother into a tight hug and sobbed, “Take care of yourself, always.”

“You’re a fine one to talk...eloping with a gadjo. Can’t say that I didn’t see this coming. Unconventional to the end, Lys.” He twisted your ear playfully while crying and laughing simultaneously.

“Let those idiots get married, Minseok, and set the fool who broke my heart free.”

“Lys -”

Pouting, you asked, “Won’t you do it for your darling sister?”

“Fine!” Minseok agreed begrudgingly, “Anything else, your highness?”

“Take care of Vera’s mother.”

“You know I already do,” said Minseok, flicking your forehead. “Promise me you’ll come visit? And you’ll always, always take care of yourself?”

You took Minseok’s hand in yours and pressed your lips to his knuckles, as his heart continued to weep.

***

It was nearly noon when Kai finally awoke.

You stood up as he walked over to you with a marked confidence in his demeanour like his little finger wasn’t carved out of his body just a few hours ago. He wrapped his arms around your waist, while Yixing and Minseok watched uncomfortably, and rested his forehead against yours.

With your hand on his chest you asked Kai, “Are you alright?”

“Never been better. You look like a bride, iubirea mea,” he said, holding you closer, tighter as his hands travelled the length of your back.

“Shall we?” He asked, lowering his head to press his lips against yours. He deepened the kiss and you responded with equal fervour as he lifted you off your feet, twirling you in his arms until you felt a familiar, intense drop in your stomach, one you’d soon have to get used to.

‘Cause I’m too wicked I want to take all of your heart Don’t you worry So soon, you have my world

You make me feel so Mm-mhm..

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

hello @diveinthebluewithyou this one’s for you...welcome to Romaniverse!! hope you enjoy <3

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honeysuckle-venom · 3 years ago

Note

🖤

Thank you so so very much for asking!!!

🖤 - How many alters do you have? Can you tell me about them?

As far as I know there's somewhere between 13 and 20 of us. I know that's vague but it's hard to get a solid count with the alters in our subsystem. And I'd be happy to tell you about them! Because there are so many of us this is going to get long, so I'm putting it below a cut:

First up we have me, Lior, Host Extraordinaire TM. I'm 24, a nonbinary ace lesbian, I use they/them pronouns, and I love my cat, my friends, theater, Judaism, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Next we have Cypher (they/them for anyone not in our system). Also 24 but at the same time perpetually 16, used to be very very angry but has mostly chilled out, your classic Edgy Alter. They aren't around much these days unless we're in a very upsetting situation.

Then we have Eloise, 24, they/them or she/her. Eloise is a femme lesbian, very romantic and sweet and into art and music and theater and fashion. Technically she was an introject of the character Eloise from the children's books/movies (esp Eloise at the Plaza) but she's grown a lot since she was formed/grows with the body and is an adult now.

Next is Silver, they/them, ageless but also 11 but also an adult. Silver is made entirely of metal and doesn't really have access to emotions. They front very very rarely but they help with things internally I believe (my internal access is extremely limited but others say they do.)

Then we have Ghost, they/them or she/her, 11-12. Very sad, very small, stuck in 2008-2012, struggles a lot to connect to our current life.

Next up is Cricket, they/them or she/her, 7-8. Cricket loves nature and animals, particularly reptiles and amphibians. She's very social, adventurous, and friendly.

Then we have Thimble, they/them or she/her, 5-8ish. Also very friendly and social and sweet, likes to bake and do arts and crafts.

Next is Mimsy, they/them or she/her, 6. Mimsy has barely fronted in the past few years and honestly might have fused with some of our other child parts, it's unclear, but I feel bad leaving her out. She's part pale purple cat and obsessed with space and anything pale purple.

Then we have Luna, she/her or they/the, 2-5. Luna fronts the most frequently of anyone besides me. She loves dragons, blueberries, space, stuffed animals, Winnie the Pooh, Sesame Street, and anything that involves being curled up and cozy.

Then we have T.N.F., she/her(?), 0-3. T.N.F. is our youngest part, sometimes pre-verbal. She is very very sad and scared and lonely. I don't think she has interests or like, personality besides that as she is so young. She's afraid of people and has never fronted when anyone else is present. She and Luna often cofront.

That's the 10 in the main system. Then we have a subsystem, The Dolls. There are at least 3 of them, but getting a solid count seems impossible. They all identify more or less as literal dolls, and they are all directly connected to our relationship with our mother. They seem to fall into three main categories/archetypes, A B and C, but I genuinely don't know how many A Dolls or B Dolls or C Dolls there are. I believe there are a few in each category but I can't get a certain number.

Doll A: Doll A and co are your classic antique porcelain dolls. They are old fashioned, polite, and proper. They are also the closest to feeling 100% like literal dolls, and sometimes Doll A is so dissociated and convinced that she's made of porcelain that she physically can't move or speak.

Doll C: Doll C and co are cute and bubbly, closer to a modern porcelain or plastic doll, obsessed with pink and frills and tea parties and being as adorable and sweet and likeable as possible.

Doll B: Doll B is deeply traumatized and will likely never post here or interact with anyone. We're uncomfortable sharing more information about the B Dolls.

And yeah as far as I know that's all of us! I certainly hope that's all of us anyway lol :)

Thank you so much for asking! If anyone has any further questions about anything we said here or questions about specific alters, feel free to ask!

#answers #system stuff #about us

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tokyoghoose · 5 years ago

Text

nous aimons tous les deux jours

pairing: dabi x reader

playlist: things we never say - bad bad habits*, sincerity is scary - the 1975, love love love - of monsters and men, if i go, im going - gregory alan isakov, i dont know me like you do - low hum, if i get high - nothing but thieves ( alice kristiansen cover ), i dare you - the regrettes, problems - deathbyromy, fool of you - meltt, hell and you - amigo the devil, creature - it looks sad, tongues and teeth - the crane wives, hooked ( addicted you might say ) - eleisha eagle, nothings gonna hurt you baby - cigarettes after sex, a dream of you - far caspian, so alright, cool, whatever - the happy fits, a lovely night - ryan gosling

warnings: mentions of violence, brief mentions of drugs for expression, and suggestive themes

summary: we love every other day

announcements!

this is my first try at a enemies/lover thingy! Originally it was going to be an enemy to lovers but i liked the idea that they're just on opposing sides a little more haha. Lemme know if you'd like to see the other one though!

i know there are a lot of hero x villain fics like this out there 😌 this is my take on it, so please bare with me!

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

"We really have to stop meeting like this."

An addiction. That's what it is. Either that or it's some kind of reverse psychology like you want what you can't have—because nothing else makes sense. If you knew him as a regular person, honestly you probably wouldn't have given him a second thought. If he was a hero you worked beside—or god forbid a villain—then you probably wouldn't have cared for a hookup or two, but then you'd get over it. It's not infatuation. It's an addiction. It's toxic and unhealthy and it just feels good even if it shouldn't. But the high; the high is unbeatable.

It continues on forever and more. From the moment his gaze pierces yours it's like snorting a rail of coke or taking a tab and the trip never ends. It's not even the fact you could get caught. You two are so damn obvious; anyone who stumbles into an alleyway at three in the morning would see the two of you doing more than what a fight warrants. It's just him. It's simply Dabi.

Romeo and Juliette's syndrome is probably a better term for it. But hell, it's not like he'd die for you. Right? It's not like you've known each other way longer than some days and nights and you certainly aren't teenagers and he's definitely not somebody who moves onto a girl and decides he's in love at first sight just because his 'rosaline' left him face down ass up. So maybe Romeo and Juliette is just lack of a better term.

But it's so unfair. How the hell are you supposed to escape him when it's like he's around every corner. With every breath you take, it's like he's an inch closer to crushing your chest with his. And maybe you want him to? This isn't very hero-like.

"You're the one always tracking me down, doll."

The pet name sends shivers down your spine and it makes you want him all the more.

Who am I? What has gotten into me?

You blame the pink tint to your cheeks on the brisk wind of the night, but the heat to them is a large contrast. You cross your arms over your chest and scoff, trying to look taller, stronger, and broader. Not in a threatening way, but more a warning.

This time you'll really take him out.

"In case you forgot, it's my job."

You tell yourself that every time.

And every time he gets away.

"I'm not doing anything but taking a walk."

He steps closer, the already short distance between you two getting shorter. The streetlamp that cuts the scene in half flickers, a moth flying away from the light and towards the moon. You count three squares in distance and you resist the urge to step back.

"You're a wanted criminal, Dabi."

He doesn't deny it but scoffs anyway, shoving his hands into his pockets leisurely. It's like he's never bothered. You're just a nat he's waiting to squash. You have to remind yourself of that: You're just prey.

"I think you just miss me." His tone is serious, but he's only teasing—no matter how true it is. You're starting to think that he can read minds—it's actually quite concerning.

You force a laugh past your lips, trying to show you aren't bothered by what he says. It's just a game of cat and mouse, and it's time the roles switch.

"Please. I could throw you in jail right now."

"But you wouldn't do that. Isn't that right, bunny?"

Your guard faulters and it gives him the opening he needs to corner you completely—and quite literally. It's a blink of an eye and he has you against the brick wall. It'd look rather suspicious to anyone passing, or maybe it looks endearing. But it doesn't matter, to begin with when it's a barren street. Even the crickets seem to have fled.

It's like wherever Dabi walks, everything else scatters. If it were the sea, you're sure it'd part red.

Dabi smirks, trapping you between his body and the cool, damp bricks. The mist from earlier rain seeps slowly into your hero suit, sending a violent chill down your spine. His other hand touches your hip, fingers grazing the fabric so faintly that it'd feel non-existent if it weren't for the heat radiating off them. You hitch your breath when his nose nudges your neck, his hot breath causes shivers and his eyes bore into your own with something mischievous.

"I-"

His lips ghost the skin of your neck and you subconsciously pull it taut, tilting your head to the side. You're beginning to hate how your body arches into his and how it reacts to the simplest of touches.

Like a brick to a window, your dissolve shattered easily.

Dabi quirks a brow, challenging you to continue as you sputter about. It's embarrassing. You can hear him say it now, just like so many times before: "Oh? A big hero like you getting flustered by a big bad villain like me? How cute."

Your walkie talkie comes alive with static and a voice cuts in asking for help to take down a gang of criminals a few cities over.

My saving grace.

"I-I have to go." You push him away by the shoulders with sudden confidence, but he doesn't seem to put up much resistance.

God, you want to wipe the smug smirk off his face.

He backs off and turns with an unbothered wave, proving his point that you wouldn't- couldn't touch him, much less win against him in any sort of battle. The untouchable.

"Until next time, right?"

———

It's like a new tide from the moon—how fast your feelings towards him change. He's awful. A criminal, a villain, a murderer. He's the literal icon of everything your against.. or of what you're supposed to be against.

But you understand him. You get his whys and you feel his emotion like you're apart of them. You empathize with him and it makes you so fucking angry at yourself because you know—as a hero—you should never side with a villain like him, no matter how much sense he starts to make.

Blame it on his tone and the smoothness of his words. He's just a swindler.

The next time isn't even a full week later. He technically protects you from some randoms in an alleyway and you catch him in the act of it all, turning to catch whoever was following you, only to be met with cold blue eyes and a pile of ashes in front of you.

Of course, it ultimately ends in the same place it always does; his bed.

His scent and touch linger a little too long after these meetings and you decide once again that this is the last time.

It's a real shame you have to blame it on his body heat and not the undeniable attraction you feel towards him. But you suppose that could count towards it.

His hands are anywhere—everywhere—and they leave a fire in their wake. It's too much and still not enough. All you want is to be closer. Fingers in his hair, pulling him into you until you can't, and then pulling him in more. It's like air, the way you breathe him in. When you finally give into dabi it no longer becomes a crime, but a necessity.

It's overbearing and messy and awful, but you can't help but slip into his embrace and into his warmth.

It's freezing and he's the sun.

Tangled in between cotton sheets, you feel him rub circles into your shoulder and you hear his heartbeat. It's reassuring to know someone like him even has one. Then again, he probably wouldn't have protected you if he didn't have one. How many times has he saved you from harm's way? Honestly, one time is too many.

It almost makes this fling of yours respectable. It almost makes you want to admit you're falling for that smug face and bad attitude.

"We talked about what we'd do if we ran into your league again, you know?"

Why on earth would you bring that up of all things, y/n?

He doesn't need to know anything about your career, much less your plans to take his team down.

"Hmm.. is that so?" Dabi's fingers move up to draw languid circles into your collarbone before shifting slightly to loom over you. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, sending a searing, but welcomed heat to the flesh. You hiss quietly at the sensation, already knowing there's a bruise forming from the activities not too long ago. His lips replace his hand on your neck and he removes his arm from under your head to hold himself up.

Your hand finds his messy hair, fingers delving into the raven locks and tugging gently as he makes his way to the column of your throat and to your ear. He nips at it, nose brushing against your jaw; his hot breath creating goosebumps that rise to your flesh.

"I like knowing you think of me when I'm not around, Angel."

The tone and raspiness of his voice makes you groan, feeling him kiss beneath your jaw. You just know he's smirking at the reactions he elicits from you because you can feel it. He enjoys watching your internal struggle. You can't act like you didn't choose to form whatever this is with him.

You tug his hair to look at him, bringing his face up and he almost looks annoyed that you disrupted his path heading down towards your chest. Your lips ghost over each other's and you lean in for a kiss, only for him to pull away and leave you chasing.

"I also like when you call my name."

Your hand falls from his hair to cup his jaw, practically pulling him forward into a kiss. It's rough to cover up the intimacy and need behind it. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip, thumb pressed into your stomach before his hand goes upward with an ulterior motive.

Pulling away from him before he can initiate anything more, you run your thumb across his lips and the silver bands that adore the lower half of his face. Surprisingly enough, it didn't take long to adjust to the different textures

"And I like how you kiss me."

This almost feels too domestic—not that you mind, but you're positive he knows you're wrapped around his finger, in the palm of his hand. It's impossible to hide it now. Your actions speak louder than the three words on the tip of your tongue, poisoning your mind.

It makes you cringe when you think about it all. How easily he can get into your head and twist your arm. Some nights you catch yourself thinking that maybe you'll be able to convince him to open his eyes a little wider to see your point of view, especially when you've begun to see his. They're horrible—the villains you go against, but he makes them seem so different. You hate how he makes you double think everything.

He playfully nips at your thumb when you push it gently between his lips, teasingly. His hands trail up your arms, pulling them off of him and above your head. You're the one who makes the move to intertwine fingers as he pushes them down harshly on the pillow underneath you. Insatiable. That's what he is. Is it so wrong to keep wanting more?

The sun beginning to rise over the horizon and spilling in through the window doesn't seem to stir him as he makes his descent from your lips.

You already know that by the next morning you'll hate him and that surrounds him. You'll hate yourself for listening to your heart instead of your head simply because it just 'feels so right.' It's a constant cycle between the two of you, and you're sure he feels the same. He doesn't agree with anything you stand by like a hero, but there's something that keeps him close enough.

There's only so much you can expect, even when you deny it over and over.

But god, you have to stop meeting like this.

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blazehedgehog · 4 years ago

Note

Sorry to ask this, but what are your thoughts on Dunky's "I'm Done Making Good Videos" with regards to content you aspire to author vs what the average joe actually searches for

I don’t know if I’m the best person to be asking this, really.

Let’s get fully inside baseball here. Let’s pull the curtain all the way back. Actually, let’s burn down the curtain. I’m going to overshare like hell right now. Get ready for the most stream-of-consciousness rambling ever, because a lot of this has been boiling in my head and dying to get out.

For the entirety of my Youtube channel, I’ve pretty much only ever done what I want to do. Very rarely do I chase trends, or do what’s hot, or even do what people want me to do. I do whatever I feel like doing.

I have paid the price for that. My Youtube channel is 15 years old as of this year, and only now am I slowly inching towards 25,000 subscribers. I am incredibly inconsistent. What’s my channel post? Well, a couple times a year, maybe I put together an edited essay/review for a game. But I also sometimes post random, unedited, uncommentated gameplay footage. Maybe it’s a fan game, maybe it’s a gameplay demo, maybe it’s Fortnite. Sometimes, I also post remastered video game music. Every Halloween, I dump a bunch of one-off horror Let’s Plays on to my channel. And then, there’s the podcast.

I know exactly what my problems are. I don’t specialize enough, and I don’t put content out fast enough. Because most Youtube channels are, like, “shows”, right. The Did You Know Gaming show. The Markiplier show. The Angry Video Game Nerd show. And you can point at those and say exactly what they are in two sentences or less.

Did You Know Gaming specializes in informative videos uncovering obscure facts you might not know about popular video games.

Markiplier is a Youtuber that does Let’s Play videos for video games, primarily horror games, but he also focuses on general comedy skits and things of that nature.

The Angry Video Game Nerd is about one guy’s over the top reactions to bad video games.

What does BlazeHedgehog do? Well, he does a lot of Sonic fan content, but sometimes he does horror let’s plays, and sometimes he does multiplayer compilation videos sort of like Criken, but he also does music, and sometimes he makes video games and puts out videos of that, and in general he’s really low energy and sometimes there will be three or four weeks between uploads. Also he sounds like Booger from Revenge of the Nerds Snot from Family Guy (apparently).

If you come to my channel for something specific, you have to put up with everything else I upload. I could start separate channels for that content, but the barrier to entry on Youtube is so massive now that I would effectively sending those channels to their death. Videos that get 200-500 views on my main channel would get 10 views or less if they were on their own self-contained alt-channel.

So I languish. I struggle. I suffer. Youtube shows me red down arrows to tell me just how much worse I’m doing now than my last flash-in-the-pan success.

I’ve tried to chase success. It just makes me sad. I have a sense of humor, but I don’t think I can make “funny videos” like some people can. My Sonic 06 glitch video did gangbusters ten years ago, but I don’t often like kicking games when they’re down. It was a struggle to make that Sonic Boom glitch montage and that’s the reason I never followed through with Part 2 like I said I would.

My only wish is that people appreciate honesty. My Youtube channel might be a scattered mess, but that’s who I am. And more than anything, I think that’s what Dunkey’s video was about. His whole joke was about switching from thoughtful or funny videos to becoming a content farm for whatever is currently popular.

I’ve brought it up a few times here and there over the last few months, but I’ve had several brushes with the Fortnite side of Youtube recently. And there are so many dudes over there who are what I would generously call “grifters.” I follow Hypex on Twitter and routinely check Firemonkey and ShiinaBR because they datamine future Fortnite updates and often have the scoop days, weeks or sometimes months in advance.

Near the end of season 3, all three of them mentioned they had datamined “the next season” but wouldn’t say what it was because they didn’t want to spoil what was coming (the marvel season). They mentioned there were “others out there” that were spoiling things, but wouldn’t say who. I wanted to spoil myself, so I turned to Youtube.

And Youtube was a nightmare. Over and over and over, I would encounter tons of people downright thriving on the same grift. It’s an open secret that Youtube prioritizes longer videos, so if your video is under ten minutes (or I think now 8 minutes), the algorithm isn’t going to be as nice to you and won’t promote your video as well, and you aren’t going to get as much advertising money because fewer people are going to sit through a video advertisement that’s a quarter of your video’s entire length. Longer videos are more profitable for Youtube, and by extension, for the user uploading them.

So it was video after video of these guys making big bold claims about how they had all the answers on what the next season of Fortnite was, and you’re thinking, “oh wow, it’s a 17 minute video, they’re going to spoil everything!”

You load the video up and it’s some guy in his streamer man cave, he’s got his webcam on, and he loads in to a match of Fortnite with his squad. Keep in mind, this video was pitched as a news report of sorts, a big spoiling of future content... and it’s just a guy playing Fortnite with a crew. In the few seconds between matches as he queues for the next one, he stops to deliver a single shred of information, most of which start with “Hypex said...”

The one thing you came to this video for and it’s scattered like breadcrumbs across a 17 minute video of a guy just playing normal matches Fortnite to fill time. It’s not information they acquired for themselves, they all just regurgitate what Hypex said, or what other channels reported Hypex saying. 17 minutes of padding for scraps of second-hand leaks. And I found dozens of these channels, all repeating the same format, all repeating the same specks of leaked information, and all of them had 150,000 to 200,000 views on each of their videos in less than 24 hours. That’s hundreds of dollars per video on a format to scam the system.

But that’s a content farm. Those dudes are vultures. I have a hard time believing their hearts are really in it. I know it’s not a term that’s really in vogue anymore, but I see that as “selling out.” They know what they are doing and it’s to make money, not to make a community better. I mean, one of those videos was a guy who was reading Marvel comic hero profiles off of Wikipedia because it sounded like he literally did not know who guys like Iron Man, Thor and Wolverine even were. How are you in touch enough with pop culture that you’re cranking out factory-fresh Fortnite content for Youtube but you don’t know who Thor is? Answer: because you don’t really care and you’re in it for the money. Gotta hit that 15 minute threshold and put in six mid-roll ad breaks.

I could be that guy. That’s kind of what I was hoping “This Kinda Sucks” would turn in to, which would be sort of a rant video series like The Jimquisition or something. But I did not have the interest or energy to keep that up. So you get a playlist with two videos on it.

I’m sure Dunkey was just funnin’ around. Dude has 6 million subscribers. But for me, like... what he said in the video is mostly true. Following your heart and making thoughtful content you are personally interested in won’t pay the bills. I mean, as I predicted, that Jurassic Park video launched to the sound of crickets chirping. My most hardcore fans and a few curious onlookers checked it out but that was it. I’ve been working on that video since August, and it’s something my viewer base did not care about. But I cared about it, and that’s important for the long-run, I think.

The other problem, sort of a disconnect, is that I’m lucky to be in the position I’m in. I think guys like Dunkey probably make all of their money from places like Youtube and Twitch and Patreon and that’s their career. That work pays all of their bills.

My work does not pay my bills. Or it does, but it’s not enough to pay all of my bills. I am lucky enough right now that I am in a living situation where I can make fractions of money in intermittent spurts. That won’t always be the case. But for now, I get to be honest, and I get to follow my heart in whatever random, chaotic direction it feels like going that particular day. Dunkey faces a different sort of pressure than I do.

All of this is to say I have no idea what I’m doing, I guess. I make the content I want to see.

That being said, I increasingly think about something I heard Woolie say early on when he went solo for his WoolieVS channel, and that was the idea of “One for you, one for me, one for us.”

Because I’ve had more than one friend burn out doing, like, Twitch streams and stuff. You hear about Youtubers who get sick of being shackled to new releases or whatever’s popular. At some point these people wake up and realize they’ve had this struggle, maybe made some money in the process, but they’re miserable because they don’t get to do what they want to do. They’re always being pushed forward by the fans that are behind them.

The “One for you, one for me, one for us” mantra does at least keep you a little more sane. Balance in all things, right? So that Jurassic Park video, it can flop. It’d be nice if it didn’t flop, given what time of the year it is, but it’s a video for me. I have other video ideas in the chamber that I know will be for my audience, or “for us.”

I just have to stay true to myself, and to my messy brain.

#questions #dunkey #youtube #inside baseball #behind the curtain #long posts #spilling my guts #Anonymous

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

The girl next door - For dummies

The Girl Next Door - Chapter 5 FOR DUMMIES*

Summary: Henry decides to treat Lizz to an evening of home spa, but neither one of the two are clear on what should happen next. Are they still just friends?

Word count: 2.439

Warnings: strong language, fluff, touch of (dubious consensual) smut, alcohol use

Author’s note: And another! I really don’t think I’ll ever write THIS much in so few days, but once you’re on a roll..you best just keep going, right? So here goes another chapter. Enjoy it while another very sweaty, sweaty night is here to greet us ;)

(Link to my Masterlist)

Lizz quietly gazed at the woodgrain texture of the garden table, her lips hovering over her cup of tea. She was lost in thought, blowing wistfully over the liquid that sure had gone lukewarm or even cold by now, her big brown eyes seemingly on “stand-by”.

‘Are you still going to drink that?’ Henry’s question lingered in the air as he studied the pensive red head that sat next to him. As per usual she sat on her chair and he on his - the poor chair holding on for dear life as Henry was anything but a small man. Not so usual was the placement of Henry’s chair, which was seated much more closely to Lizz’s then it had been a few weeks ago. First Henry sat at the far end of the garden table, but now he sat so very close to Lizz’s spot that their knees were close to touching.

A lot had happened in these few weeks and let’s just say that the two of them had broken the Corona protocol so many times by now - be it consciously or unconsciously - that they had simply given up on even trying to keep up good appearances.

Lizz finally woke up from her death stare, looking up to her side and meeting Henry’s eyes, her shoulders shrugging with an indifference. ‘Iced tea is nice too.’

Henry chuckled, shaking his head and leaning over to take the cup from her, putting it back on the table. ‘I have the feeling you could use a well-deserved…break.’ He said, nodding at the house.

The once ruin of a building was now slowly being whipped back into shape by the fearless redhead. The roof and water boiler had finally been fixed, a large part of the front yard was made more presentable and this week she had started sanding down and repairing the woodwork of the doors and windows. Which, honestly, was one hell of a job when it’s hot out and you’re all alone. But that couldn’t stop Lizz from trying, her energy endless as she fought her way through years and years of decay.

The only real breaks she took were her morning runs and tea breaks with Henry. And that wasn’t because she chose to. He simply insisted on it - one couldn’t possibly resist him when he used his very convincing puppy eyes - and Lizz cracked every single time. And so, once more, they sat here, in Lizz’s front yard. His tea now finished and hers practically gone cold.

‘A break? We literally are just finishing our break, Mr. Cavill.’ She snickered, giving him a teasing poke.

‘No. I mean. Longer than ten minutes of sipping on some tea. A REAL break. How about you come over tonight and I’ll surprise you? Hmm?’

Lizz guessed he just meant this in a friendly manner, but still her heart skipped a beat as Henry offered her one of his million dollar smiles. This man was criminally handsome. Gosh, she just couldn’t ever say “no” to him, could she?

‘Fine.’ She agreed.

‘Be there at 6 o’clock. I’m cooking.’ He said simply, getting up from his chair - the frame wobbling dangerously - and laying his hand on her shoulder. She looked up when he didn’t move his hand. ‘What?’

‘Okay?’

‘Yea yea. I’ll be there. I’m not one for being late..or breaking promises.’

‘Good, because neither am I.’ He winked, brushing his thumb over her cheek and tsk’ing to alarm Kal that they were about to leave.

Even long after Henry left, Lizz felt the slight blush on her cheek where Henry had rubbed his thumb. Was she misreading the signals? Did he like her? Or was he just being friendly? Or ..was there something on her cheek? Quickly she brushed the back of her hand against her cheek, looking at it. No. Nothing there. Hmm.

‘Gods Henry. It smells way too good in here.’

‘Thank my mom for that. She taught me a few tricks.’ He winked, moving around the kitchen while wearing a much too dainty apron. If people said only real men wear pink… Then perhaps they could add; only real men wear kitchen aprons. Gods he looked like a SNACK, Lizz all but drooled, her sundress-clad body leaning against one of the counter tops as she sipped on some red wine.

‘Well you are literally the only man I know who is this comfortable with cooking.’ Lizz smiled, her cheeks slightly flushing as Henry brushed passed her to grab something from the drawer next to her knee.

‘Good.’ He stated simply, rising back up to full height and hovering mere inches away from her face, smiling broadly before moving back to the stove and using a fork to stab some of the vegetables that lay in the oven.

‘Well good lady. Looks like dinner is ready. If you’d please escort your pretty behind to the dining table, we can feast!’ He smiled, gesturing Lizz to move.

‘Can I help?’ Lizz tried, full knowing the answer; “NO”. Or better yet: Please woman, just do as I requested and leave the kitchen.

‘Lizz…please.’ Henry shushed her away, smiling from ear to ear.

Getting into the living room she finally got WHY he had shushed her away. Do friends do…this? Her eyes skid over the neatly laid out table - table cloth, glasses, cutlery, kerchiefs all set - with a few candles burning a soft woodsy scent.

Somewhat unsure of the very intent of this dinner, Lizz sat down on one of the chairs, offering her a good line of vision on the hallway. After a few minutes Henry appeared, proudly carrying two very meticulously made up plates of food.

‘Steamed fish, roast vegetables with a fresh lemon-dill sauce and new potatoes, baked in their skin. Simple, yet delicious.’ He nodded, placing the plates on the table. Lizz applauded, her lips turning in a giddy smile as Henry removed his apron and also sat down. ‘I don’t know why I deserved this, but, I’m glad I did. This looks amazing Hen. Thank you.’ She cooed.

‘Well, it’s just part of the ..surprise. I was actually thinking we could have a little..in-house..spa evening.’ He rose his eyebrows and let the words slowly roll off his tongue, like he were tasting them one by one.

’Spa night? Really?’ Lizz giggled, shaking her head. ‘My..Henry. Who are you? And what are you? I doubt you are even a human male. It just can’t be.’

‘Well, some call me superman. Or Kal. Kal-el.’

At the word “Kal”, the large like-named dog came trodding into the living room - he had been chilling outside on the porch -, his face speaking of slight confusion. Did you call me, human? KAL?

Henry snickered, looking over his shoulder and gesturing Kal to come over for a scratch, to which the Akita gladly obliged. ‘And then there’s of course THIS Kal.’

‘Both good boys.’ Lizz nodded, laughing.

With the end of spring bringing them a particularly gentle night, the two of them had moved to Henry’s patio. Laughing and talking, they had made themselves comfortable on his outdoor lounge sofa, faces fresh after a face mask and their hands plucking at strawberries with whipped cream. For someone who had only brothers, Henry was particularly comfortable with indulging on things that were generally considered “feminine”. He even made a very poor attempt at helping Lizz file her toe nails, which made her roll with laughter - he had many talents but that certainly wasn’t one of them.

‘Luis would have NEVER done that.’ She said, her laughter quick to die down. Even after all this time, Luis held a strong hold on her heart. It seemed like she simply couldn’t will herself to forget about her manipulative, selfish ex. And of course it hadn’t helped that he had shown up out of the blue just two weeks ago. It was back to square one for whatever was happening between Lizz and Henry.

Henry sighed as he let himself sink further into the couch, propping his feet up on the ottoman and humming in satisfaction.

‘It’s not often that British springs are THIS nice.’ He smiled, his voice so deep it made his chest rumble.

‘Yea. Almost a shame to go back inside.’

‘Mhmm..So let’s stay a little while longer.’ He said, looking up at Lizz, her feet pulled up to her chest and a glass of red wine tucked in between. She grinned at him and smiled, a glint of sadness still touching her eyes.

Henry hated it. Seeing that. The sadness. He saw it no matter how she tried to hide it. With the working from dusk till dawn. The sweet smiles. He knew she was still struggling. And he hated it not only because he cared for her, but also because he wished she could care for him too. Seeing that sadness in her eyes he didn’t dare to bring up that touchy subject, instead deciding to stay on the safe side.

Just friends. Good friends, yes. But still. Just friends.

They were quiet again, their eyes looking out over the rural landscape as the last rays of sun glittered over the rolling hills. And, though they were quiet, the world around them sure wasn’t. Birds singing, crickets spinning, insects buzzing. They all savoured every last bit of sunlight until darkness finally came.

‘How about we make a little campfire, hmm? No need to go inside.’ Henry said, groaning softly while sitting up a bit and looking over at Lizz. She chuckled, her cheeks rosy from the glasses of wine she had been nipping on throughout the evening. ‘Sounds good.’ She agreed, smiling at Henry and leaning into him slightly.

Gosh, what a man, she blushed. Cook her dinner, pamper her all night and make a fire to keep her warm? Heck. She probably was the luckiest woman in the northern hemisphere right now.

The campfire was now but a pile of burning embers, the night mild, but definitely not chilly. Henry looked up at the galaxies that stretched far and wide above their heads, Lizz lying but a few inches away from him, their legs brushing, the lush grass tickling their skin.

He had looked at her for a little while as she had been telling him a story she had learned from her mother. A mnemonic to remember the horoscope patterns. With slightly inebriated gestures she pointed out all the ones she could remember - a few seemed to be “on a holiday”. Henry hadn’t really listened all that closely, his eyes instead brushing over her sweet features as the fire cast her in a soft glow. She looked so very beautiful. Over and over again he tried to tell himself; just friends, just friends. You’re just friends.

He bit his lip and turned his gaze back to the sky.

‘Were you looking at me, bear?’ She stopped her blurry story and quirked her head at him.

’Me? What makes you think that?’ Henry teased, looking back at Lizz and seeing her eyes sparkle with cheekiness. Goodness, she was well into her cups.

‘Yes you! Big bear! It’s very impolite to…’ She crawled up to him and hovered just mere inches away from his face, biting her lip playfully as her eyes locked with his.

‘..Stare?’ Henry added, grinning awkwardly, his whole body freezing as Lizz suddenly pressed her lips against his, her body quick to lock him between her thighs as her hands started to tug at his shirt.

Henry was a bit at loss with what to do. What to do with this hot, but totally drunk neighbour, lover, friend…? What to do? Shit.. His mind started going overtime as his body lay there frozen, frozen with the passion Lizz was kissing him. He wanted this. But also not. Not like this. But..he wanted..it all the same.

‘Let’s get big bear out to play.’ She growled, her hands making quick work of his belt.

‘Gods Lizz. No.’ He said, his voice so unconvincing it was closer to a lustful moan. And thus, she continued, her legs now astride him as she started to unzip his pants, his boxers pulled down to free his length.

He felt almost ashamed of how quick he grew hard for her. FUCK. He wanted her. Yes he wanted her. Reaching up he hooked his hand behind her head, pulling her down towards his face and settling for a slower pace. Tongues dancing an ancient duel that could last for many lightyears... were it not for Lizz’s impatience, her hand palming his cock with greediness. ‘Lizz, Lizz..Lizz.’ Henry could all but utter, the feeling just too much.

Her palm was hot, strong and slightly calloused from the manual labour she had been doing in and around her house. It made for perfect friction, his precum making her hand slide up in a smooth, tantalising pace. Henry started to pant, his arousal soon peaking as his eyes met hers. ‘Fuck.’ He growled, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes closed.

Breath, breath, breath. FUCK.

‘Stop.’ He finally said, resolute and final. And thankfully, she stopped at once, her head quirking in confusion.

‘Not like this Lizz. Not like this.’ He choked, his eyes finally opening again.

‘What..? Want to go.. upstairs again? Afraid Mrs Gatter will see us?’ She snickered, poking his chest.

‘No Lizz. Not now. I mean. Yes I want this. But..you’re drunk..and I know you are still thinking of Luis. I…only want you if you really want me. Sober.’ He placed his hand on her cheek, seeing her face contort with more confusion.

‘Don’t you like me?’ She pouted, seemingly uninterested in her partition in Henry’s plea.

‘I do like you Lizz. I like you..a lot. I mean, why else would I be here, laying in the grass with you?’ He smiled, pulling her back to her initial position by his side, his hands quickly rearranging his boxers and pants.

‘Pfft. Not fair.’ She pouted again, laying her head on his chest and wrapping an arm and leg around him.

Henry didn’t know what to say, but also here, thankfully, Lizz made it easier; she fell asleep then and there on his chest.

‘Hmm. I just hope you’ll chose me someday, okay Lizz?’ He whispered softly, pressing a sweet kiss on her forehead. She looked so sweet when she slept, Henry thought, looking at her again like he had done just minutes earlier. He couldn’t help but feel a certain flutter in his heart when she was near. And if only ..if only..

‘I like you too, dummie.’ She muttered, sleep drunk.

Did she mean that? Or was this the wine talking?

| Chap 6 >

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fuff #henry cavill x oc #the girl next door #about dummies #home spa #cooking #apron #kal #henry bear #superman #outdoors #drunk

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workingonit-currently · 5 years ago

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Oxventure in university AU

So let’s get a few things on paper, or the internet in this case.

Corazon (At the start)

He is, at the start, enrolled in all higher classes.

Gold trimmed blazer, neat beautiful brown hair similar to a honey glazed brownie cake

Blue tie is the only thing he is comfortable in, the tie tied around his clean, tough, ironed shirt that digs into his neck

Is the son of the head of the buisness that owns the school as a branch.

Gets tutoring at his house, inschool, literally any time he has time and even when he doesn't

pale skin with pink hints and dark stormy eyes

Hair is always brushed neatly, cleanly and tightly back in a upper-class look that screams 'punch me in the face, I'm better than you and I KNOW it'.

Literally NO blemishes, doesn’t speak much and doesn’t like interacting with people

Sharp angles on his face, cheekbones and a cut chin that he hates and his hair highlights.

Brooding and tired looking, snappy and defensive

Hair is uncomfortable.

Overly confident and hides behind his name

Goes by nothing but everyone knows he’s called Percival

Gets collected from school everyday by a black large car with tinted windows, his father never comes to pick him up

Doesn’t take any creative subjects, is forced to stay late every day, always the first to school and the last to leave.

Dob (At the start)

Enrolled in higher classes but a mix of creative and ‘academic’, whatever that means.

When not in class, which is very often where he is not, playing the guitar or singing or climbing or sleeping, just enjoying life. (Maybe doing all at once.)

Messy hair that still somehow looks amazing and rugged, rich oak brown

Leather jacket with fur on the hood, loose jeans and scrapes and cuts everywhere

Typical jock with muscles, a strong build, a square but rounded face, loose smile and free roaming spirit.

Pink, fleshy cheeks and skin with small freckles.

A thin, deep scar on his check that isn’t noticeable unless you’re very close and very lucky, it’s just not noticable

Cuts and bruises everywhere, dirt and dust on his hands

Calloused fingers and tough skin

Friendly, load, lazy and generally unreliable. (forgetful, disloyal and free roaming.)

He’s got potential, a lot of it but refuses to apply it

No one knows what his teal name is but everyone just calls him Dob

Doesn't like doing work, misses most classes but still gets second highest in the class or in the top five

Doesn't take music and he mainly focuses on art as a subject, turning up, submitting great work and actually trying

Often ends up with SOMETHING on his hands, clothes, face or in his mouth. (Not in that way!)

Dorms in school, leaves classes way to early, starts school to early and likes to stay out after dark, walking, observing and chilling.

Refuses to try out for any sports though is seemingly great at them all.

Prudence (At the start)

Enrolled in higher sciences, takes art but mostly hangs out in the physics lab

No one ever sees her walk to class, she just appears

Sometimes likes to correct teachers or talk back to them, depending on how short her fuse is that day

Hates music and more than once has trained a bird to peck at Dob when he starts playing, she has to keep training more because eventually Dob befriends the bird.

Listens to music in her room, in school and blasts it while experimenting.

Every Thursday in the Physics room everybody knows not to go there, Prudence has it all to herself. No one has made it out alive yet.

Sharp jaw and face, pursed lips and glares

Snaps at people, sneers, laughs at misfortune and likes annoying people

Ofte 'accidently' makes life a lot easier for new student, stressed or struggling students and nice students. (Accidently of course. Who can say who made Mr Stormthorn sick when you were suppose to have a test that you were soo stressed about you almost bumped into Prudence and had to hurridly explain everything while she glared at you, who can say who locked the angry sports teacher in his car for your lesson.)

Hands in her homework very early, arrives just as school starts

Gets very sunburnt easily after spending half an hour in the sun, leading to her often having a fancy shade umbrella when forced to go outside.

Has after-school activities most days but no one knows what they are

Once blew up the science block

Every calls her by her full name and no one dares shorten it or call her her last name. (Most don't know it but thise who do find themselves without a tounge before they can use it.)

Dorms in school but likes to watch the night from her window, sometimes throws rocks at Dob and Corazón but she knows they can avoid them. (She did hit Cor at one point and the next day he found a very fancy note on his desk with a book on pirates and history.)

Merilwen (At the start)

Enrolled in most creative subjects, music, art, social studies, history, gardening and a few others

Takes higher biology and sits next to Dob

Likes to smile at everyone except jerks, smiles at nice teachers and Dob

Has a secret cat called Simon in her room

Goes home every day once school ends and arrives at a normal time every morning

Round face, sweet smile, soft hands and light brown hair

Usually wearing spring soft colours, greens mostly but she likes brown

Has her own garden in the school that she works on every lunch instead of eating

Loves animals and is the ONLY petson in the entire school who has ever come close to, fed and stroked Oswald, the school cat that looks more like a tiny bear than a cat and is known for ripping things and people to shreds

Seems nice but a dude called Mack once kicked a mouse that she had put down in the school greenhouse to take it back to her room and he was never heared from again, apparently he transferred to a 'special-needs' school.

Sends you her work, takes notes and wakes people up when sleeping

Has after school clubs on Monday and Wednesday. (Gardening and something to do with animals.)

Egbert (At the start)

Enrolled in three higher classes, chemistry, gardening and Spanish

Explodes more often than not in chemistry, all his plants die in gradening and he gets to nervous in Spanish to say anything so it's a miricle he manages to do anything

Often is late to school, classes and stays to long after lessons, checking up on teachers and handing it crumpled work

Rushed everything

Often forgets breakfast so ends up eating in class

Get distracted easily and is running everywhere

Dorms in school and sleeps very often

Soft features and warm real smiles and hugs

Likes to bring in cake for people, snacks and coffee for random strangers he thinks need them and most teachers think he's sweet despite being a little below average in class

Gets great grades in chemistry and a few other subjects but no one knows how. (Most theorise he bribes them with sweets and is a suck-up.)

Plays football, hocket and cricket for the school, he often is powerfup but not accurate.

Clumbsy, worn clothes, messy hair and wild eyes

Likes to touch. (Run his hands through his hair, hug people, hold peoples hands, grab onto stuff, feel pens, chew pencils, grab desks, put an arm around people who need it, grab people, poke stuff.)

Golden hair with random spots of brown

Tall and bulky but friendly and warm.

Loud and jokey but often gets stressed easily and emotional

Is sad when no one can see him, cries easily, wants friends and sleeps with soft toys

#oxventure #outsidexbox #outsidextra #dnd #random #please #au #d&d #ox #prudence #corazón #dob #egbert #merilwen #corazon #corazón de ballena #corazon de ballena #oxtra #oxbox

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years ago

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Three Days ~ 35

Catch up on AO3

~*~Emma~*~

Sebastian's hands are incredible. The way he touched my body set me on fire. His thumb on my clit was secondary to his fingers. He stroked the perfect spot inside me. I'd never had someone touch me so intentionally. Had he asked, I couldn't have told him what I needed. I had no idea. Sebastian did. I remembered what he'd said our first night, the sex would get better as he learned how to touch me. He was learning now, paying attention to my reaction and changing accordingly. I didn't understand a word he was saying and it wasn't solely because he was speaking Romanian. He spoke in long sentences next to my ear where I could feel his breath.

I felt the pressure start to build and dug my nails into his bicep.

Sebastian's face came into view and the Romanian stopped, "You gonna come for me, baby."

That I didn't instantly was a miracle. "I am." His touch became firmer. "Oh fuck, Bastian. Your fingers. .." My words were cut off by my orgasm. The last thing I saw before I went blind, I mean closed my eyes, was his smile.

Sebastian kissed my neck and moved his fingers from inside me to my clit. "Wanna come again?"

Thirty seconds later I did. My body shook and I grabbed his wrist, too sensitive for more touch. I fisted the hair on the back of his head and pulled him away, where I could see him. His blue eyes were sparkling and the line of his lips was edging close to a smirk, "Yes?"

I loosened my hold on his hair, "You have very talented fingers."

"I couldn't leave you hanging." He pushed his head back against my hand. "I like the hair pulling."

"I think I was going to kiss you." I squeezed my eyes together for a moment, "My brain's a little scrambled."

Sebastian brought his mouth to mine, his tongue gently caressing mine. The intensity was high. Not an excited ramping up, more of a not wanting to let go holding on. Still, over time we did. He held me tight and I relaxed with my head on his shoulder. I didn't really know where to go after literally being fucked into a wall. I heard myself sign contentedly.

Sebastian laughed, "Yeah, I agree."

I stretched out across his lap, leaning back on the arm of the couch and wiggling my toes. A question popped in my mind, "What were you saying?"

"You're beautiful. You make me feel good. I’m glad I got here early to spend more time with you." He kissed me softly, "And a bunch of dirty stuff that would sound bad right now, but I'II happily repeat later."

"That sounds fun!" I ran my fingers over his cheek and down his chest. "We got the tournament bracket last night."

"Did you?" He rubbed his hand on my hip. "What seed are you? Is there a team name?"

"There is a team name. We are the Demonic Crickets." I couldn’t help but laugh.

"I feel a story coming."

"It's from Schitt's Creek." His lack of expression said he hadn't seen it. I reached behind me, patting the table to find the remote. I quickly had Season 1 Episode 7 "Turkey Shoot” pulled up on Plex. "It’s the opening." I let it play, pleased with his expression and light laughter. I paused at the credits. "I wanted milky exoskeleton, but Pete thought it sounded dirty and would be hard to pronounce drunk."

"He might have a point with the second part. Doesn't sound dirty, unless maybe your drunk and it comes out milky secretions."

I laughed, "Pete said those exact words. You two are going to get along." I remembered the first part of his question, "We're the three seed. First round is at noon. Have to be there at eleven."

"Three is good. Not the pressure of the one spot, or the angry runner up number two, or too far down to be taken seriously. Three is perfect to sneak in and take over."

I wasn't sure if he knew anything about seeding or was being supportive. "I like being a three. We play the five seed and that should be a good match, we'll get the nerves out and can make adjustments if our plan isn't working. One plays eight and two plays seven. Those mess with your head more. If you struggle you question how you'll do with a higher seed, but if you win easy you can get overconfident. Plus, if you breeze through you don't figure out what adjustments you need."

"This is going to be fun."

"I hope you’ll have fun. I'll have a blast." I picked up the remote to turn the TV off.

"No, let's watch. I've never seen Schitt's Creek. We'll find something I love that you haven't seen and trade off."

"I'll go back to episode one, so you know what’s going on." I moved around to sit a little more facing the TV with my legs still over his lap. I wanted to be able to watch the show and his face. And I just wanted to look at him.

Several episodes, tons of laughter, and making out during the credits later I heard a strange gurgling sound. I put my hand on Sebastian's stomach, "Hungry, baby?"

"Sounds like I am." He put his hand over mine, assuring I didn’t move. "I made us a reservation at the place we went last week. I hope that's alright."

"Same place?" There were several good places around town, but he wouldn't know them.

"Good food." He smiled, "Last week I wanted to take a walk by the river, but the storm ruined it."

I mumbled, "Among other things."

We both laughed. "Good memories too."

He picked my hand up off his stomach and brought it to his mouth. "Very. Reservation at seven."

I hit the info button on the remote. It was almost six thirty. "I need to change."

"The fairy costume has grown on me." He fluffed my skirt.

"My wings are smashed. Besides us out to dinner with me in a fairy costume is a guaranteed picture on Instagram that I don’t want to explain."

Sebastian pulled me into a hug. "I should change too."

"At least zip your jeans." I flipped the fabric before I stood up. He still had my hand and I waited for him to stand. I was amused by how dressed we were. His pants were open and mine were by the door. It had been a very targeted activity.

The look on Sebastian's face told me he was thinking something similar. He nodded to the door, "I'll grab my bag and your pants."

"Thank you." We separated at the stairs and I ran up. What to wear. What to wear. I ducked into the bath room to freshen up and came out in my bathrobe. Sebastian was in his boxers and a t-shirt. My mouth watered.

Sebastian was pulling things out of his bag, laying them on the bed. He paused to look me up and down. "Next weekend I'd like to take you out someplace nice."

I clasped my hands between my breasts, raising my shoulders with excitement, "Dress up in girl clothes nice?"

His eyebrows raised with the nod of his head and smile, "Exactly."

I sighed dramatically, "I miss dressing up and going out to dinner." I closed my eyes, "Live music, plays, art openings."

"Then next weekend you’re in luck." He picked up his shaving kit, heading toward the bathroom. He stopped to kiss me, "I know places to go in NY, unlike here.”

"There's some fine dining places here. Haven't dated much here, but I can research. Won't have the same energy as the city."

He closed the bathroom door, "I’m happy and sad you don't know good date spots."

I walked into my closet to find something to make my date's pants tight. Casual, cute, and a touch of sexy. I was pulling on my white mini skirt with an eyelet bottom when Sebastian came to the closet door. He was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, a black polo, and a pair of loafers. "You look handsome." I was still adjusting to his shorn beard, with how young he looked. There was a hook on the door for my robe and I slid it off, handing it to Sebastian. He missed the hook because he wasn't looking in the right direction. He was looking at me in a bra and miniskirt. I could see him swallow hard, "This closer to your fantasy?"

"Closer, but not quite."

I took my blue chambray shirt of the hanger and dropped it over my head. It had a loose contoured cut and gathered in a knot at my hip. I added a few long necklaces and matching earrings before picking up my wedge sandals. Sebastian was blocking the door, his body filling the space. I put my hands on his waist and smoothed around to his back. Our hips connected, but there was space between our upper bodies. He kissed my head, "We look like casual summer lovers out for a night.

"Pretty accurate."

"Causal looking, not casual lovers."

The look on his face stopped my heart. I pressed my lips to his for a quick kiss that took on a life of its own, morphing in to a lazy long kiss. I broke the kiss and buried my nose against him, "You smell fucking delicious." I drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"Didn’t bring cologne to move my parents."

"We had many things working against up last weekend.”

"And yet here we are."

'Yes, we are." I sat down on the bed to put on my shoes. "Adversity becomes us."

Sebastian knelt on the floor in front of me, sliding my shoe on my foot, “This is the least difficult thing ever.” He took my hands as he stood up and brought me into his arms.

We stood holding onto each other for a long time. Last weekend was touching on Friday, sharing secrets on Saturday, hugging on Sunday, and sex on Monday. Seemed tonight’s theme was romance. I closed my eyes and clung to him, feeling the hard plane of his chest against my cheek and the slight twitch of a muscle in his back. I’d ask him last week if it was crazy to think you were falling for someone after three days. Thankfully he’d said no, because I didn’t think I was falling for him now, I knew I was. I wasn’t in love with him, but it wouldn’t take long, which is different for me. I don’t get emotionally involved with people easily, except those rare times like with Angie. It takes a while for me to trust and attach. Standing here wrapped in his arms I didn’t want to let go. Part of not wanting to let go was as sure as I was that I could fall in love with him, I knew the same was true for him, and right this second it felt so good.

Sebastian kissed my head and ran his hand down my arm to take my hand before stepping away, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slightly and hoped my legs were going to work. I grabbed my purse on the way out the door, “Do you want to drive?”

“Yes, please.”

I got a thrill at having this man driving my vehicle. Absolutely ridiculous. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was fifteen going my first date. It wasn’t even our first date. “Code is 0418.” He punched the code into the driver’s side door, hit the unlock button, and walked me to the other side of the car, giving me a kiss before closing the door.

He got in and adjusted the seat and mirrors before starting the engine, “I like driving.”

“I like being driven.” I waited until he buckled his seat belt before laying my hand on his leg. I couldn’t help but touch him and his smile made my stomach flip. “Remember how to get there?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and glanced over, “I drove. If I don’t drive, I don’t remember how to get anywhere. How far away is the tournament?”

“Umm, five minutes. It’s over by the Whole Foods. We should take an Uber.”

“Planning on getting me too drunk to drive?”

“And they set up checkpoints.”

The restaurant was quite a bit busier than last week. We were parked further away, but closer to the river walk. “Don’t move.”

He jumped out of the car and came around to my side, opening the door, and taking my hand. I needed to say something about this. I waited for him to close the door. “Wait a second.”

“What’s up?” He faced me and looked expectantly.

“You driving and opening doors, the chivalrous stuff. I appreciate it. I like how you treat me. You’re a gentleman.”

Sebastian smiled sheepishly, “I just fucked you into a wall.”

I gasped, “Oh my god.” I could feel my cheeks burning.

His expression dropped, “You’re blushing.” He pulled me close, holding my head to him. “Emma, I’m sorry.”

I started laughing, pushed him away and put my hand on his chest. “Just take the compliment, Seb.”

He laughed and wrapped his hand around mine, “Thank you.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

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jamesbucksiclebarnes · 5 years ago

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Rating: Mature: Language.

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11] | [12] | [13] | [14] | [15] | [16] | [17] | [18] | [19]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

Tag List: @crossbowking, @khaleesislytherin

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: The Sin and the Sinner.

The incident at the farm became the stuff of legend.

A week later, at the next council meeting, no one – not even Claire – had the balls to snap back at me after I had walked back into the prison gates covered head to toe in biter guts. It had been a welcomed reprieve, really. Instead of being feared for violent tendencies, I was beheld almost in awe by the majority of the prison folk. No longer would I get withering stares or hissed remarks at my expense. Now, people looked at me with respect. The kind of respect that still came with the phrase “that crazy bitch” but… in a more, complementary manner.

Who knew grinding up a bunch of biters with a rotary tractor was all it took to go from Social OutcastTM to Most Popular Girl in SchoolTM? Or, should I say prison?

What an odd world we lived in.

It was almost worth the literal two hours and metal dish scrub it had taken me in the shower to actually get clean. Well, mostly. My hair was tinged red for days afterwards.

As for the supply situation for which we had gone to the farm in the first place to fix? Well, thanks to my antics, a larger group returned the next day to a near biter free farm. They had rummaged through the land and found a decent amount of fresh seeds still packaged up in the garden shed. Oh, and three baby pigs! The mother had been there, too, but was too wild and heavy for the group to take back. And let’s not mention the seven metres of copper wiring Malcom had taken upon himself to sneak back into the prison.

Carl and Rick took responsibility for the pigs the moment the crew had brought them back. He had contracted out the help of Tyrese and a handful of others to build a pen in the field.

Daryl and I had remained on the same basic schedule for the past week and a half; hunting, going on watch, going on small runs (which were really just an excuse to look for the Governor). He’d remained somewhat petulantly silent lately. I knew he wasn’t exactly a big talker, but he and I had had many lengthy conversations during watch and during our free time, so when he grew suddenly sullen it was almost as easy for me to spot as the moon in the sky.

While we were on watch, the night before our next council meeting, I remarked on it.

“Why are you so pouty lately?”

He turned partially in his camper chair to look at me with a raised brow. “I ain’t pouty.”

I crossed my lengthy legs over one another and gave him a pointed look from the corner of my eye. “Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for my friend, Daryl. He’s about yay-high, wears a leather vest, has this expression on his face most of the time.” I mocked an overdramatic grouchy frown before breaking out into a grin.

Daryl let out a soft sigh through his nose that could be mistaken for a chuckle before he looked away, out toward the darkened tree line with his lips pressed in a hard line.

My own expression fell and I grabbed the edges of my own camper chair that had been pressed up against the outside of the watchtower wall, and spin it in place until I was fully facing him. “Spill, Little Dixon. What ails ye?”

He continued to stare blankly out toward the forest whilst I leant forward, resting my forearms against my knees to get a closer look at him. Though his hair had grown a tad longer, now partially obscuring the lines of his face, I could see the tightness of his jaw and the way his eyes were more narrowed than usual. He ground his teeth in thought for a moment before taking in a long breath, blowing it out through his nose, and turning his head slightly to glance toward me.

“It ain’t nothin’,” he said.

I snorted. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Daryl. I know something’s wrong.”

After a brief moment of silence, Daryl leant back in his camp chair and tossed a hand out toward the shadows of the forest before us. “He’s out there. I know he is.”

My expression hardened almost instantly, as it so often did whenever anyone mentioned Phil these days. That flame that burnt in the pit of stomach, the one whose light I always kept hidden from the world, began to peak through the cracks in my armour. Anger contorted my face into a scowl.

“You’re right,” I said, turning to follow his line of sight. “He is. Somewhere.”

The fact we had struggled this long to find any trace of the man only served to stoke that flame inside me. I was a creature of the forests, a being of magic, how the ever-loving fuck had one single goddamn human escaped me?

I’ll admit, there had been moments where I’d let distractions get the better of me. And my need to hide the truth of what I was continued to come before the need for vengeance. But, even knowing that, I felt as if I’d failed. I should have been able to find him. To get revenge for what he had done – not just to Merle, but in general.

It didn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to believe Daryl likely felt something similar.

As that thought solidified inside my mind, I felt myself take a deep breath. For a moment, I held it, forcing myself to calm that ranging inferno inside me before blowing out the air in a long sigh. There was no point getting mad now.

I reached out and put a hand on Daryl’s thigh, lowering my head to catch his gaze with a sad smile. “Your brother was proud of who you became. He would never admit it, but I knew he was.”

Daryl swallowed, sniffled, and looked down at my hand with a deep frown before glancing my way. When his gaze met mine, he searched my face for a brief moment before nodding, returning my sad smile with one of his own.

I kept my hand on his leg, kept my gaze on his. “He wouldn’t think less of you for not hunting that fucker down. So, you shouldn’t think less of you, either.”

He averted his gaze down to my hand again, shaking his head as he cleared his throat. Though he didn’t speak, I could almost read his entire body like words from the pages of a book.

“I mean it, Daryl,” I pushed, squeezing my fingers around his thigh to draw his attention once again. “Stop thinking you’re worthless. You’re not.”

“The hell’d you know?” he snapped, though his expression was devoid of the anger present in his voice. Still, the sound of it bid me to remove my hand, leaning back in my seat to look at him with a thinly veiled look of hurt. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you better than you think,” I responded in a hushed voice. “Do you know how often he talked about you? Shared stories about how the two of you grew up? Daryl, I could give you a detailed play-by-play of what you did on your nineteenth birthday. And even that doesn’t compare to the fact that you and I haven’t had so much as a couple of hours apart since we met. So, don’t give me that shit about not knowing who you are. Don’t tell me I don’t know you, because I do, and whether you can believe it not, I think you’re a good man – and so did your brother.”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared down toward the grassy field beneath us, his brows deeply furrowed, and his hands squeezed into tight fists by his knees. Breathing heavily through his nose, he closed his eyes and pushed himself out of the camper chair. Silently, he walked over to the corner of the watchtower balcony, gripping tightly onto the railing as he peered out over the prison.

I watched him quietly, swallowing back against my own emotion. The things I knew of his childhood weren’t all pretty and it wouldn’t have surprised me to know that he didn’t often hear songs of his praise or testaments to his kind heart. I knew what it was like to come from an abusive home and into a realm of respect and love. It was a strange feeling and sometimes it was difficult to process exactly how one felt about it. That was why I stayed in my seat, waiting patiently for Daryl to sort through his thoughts without a word.

It took him a few minutes. The soothing sound of crickets filled the otherwise silent night air.

When he returned to his seat, I said nothing more on the subject, and neither did he.

“Did I tell you how I think Hershel has the hots for me?” I asked, breaking through the quiet night air suddenly enough that Daryl jerked slightly in his seat.

He turned to look at me with a cocked brow, eyes widening for a moment before the slightest ghosts of a smile stretched across his lips. “Bullshit.”

“Are you saying we wouldn’t make a hot couple?” I retorted with mock offence.

His small, stuttering smile stretched fully into a grin. “At least you’d have matchin’ hair.”

I snorted a chuckle, reaching out and slapping his shoulder, which made him laugh.

And, just like that, everything settled back into its normal place.

Until morning, of course.

The next morning, the council met.

My third meeting, the one that was supposed to be “the charm”. It went relatively smoothly, if you discounted all of the attempts made to derail my comments on what I had come to dub Operation Child In-Dangerment.

The current topic of conversation was the degeneration of the fence. It was rapidly growing unstable with the constant abuse the dead threw at it on a daily basis. The metal posts were long past their expiration date, having bent and warped almost completely into a “J” shape. We had to do something to strengthen it or we’d all risk getting overrun.

The timber posts we’d scavenged together had helped, but they, too, were growing weaker beneath the ceaseless onslaught of the undead. Hershel theorised metal would be the best option, though we hardly had the supplies necessary to build a forge. However, according to Hayden, there was a small town a couple dozen miles from here that had a rather impressive industrial area. He’d apparently once been contracted by the mayor to assist with a building development some years back and keenly remembered the metalwork factory that sat near the end of the industrial road.

It was a good day-worth of driving just to get there, especially considering we’d need to take the truck, which was notoriously unreliable, but Daryl and I agreed to it, nonetheless. Those fences were the only thing keeping the undead from eating everyone I had come to care about. If I had a chance to fix them, you bet your ass I would do everything I could to do so.

“Now, you’re gonna need to take a couple days’ worth of provisions,” Hershel was saying, looking at us with a mixture of concern and a kind of stern, almost fatherly look that made me feel all nice and warm inside. “Extra weaponry. And you’ll need to be careful. We have no way of knowing what you’ll be walking into.”

I waved a dismissive hand with a grin. “It’ll be fine as wine, Doc.”

He gave me a pointed look as, from across the table, Claire snorted.

“Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me,” she breathed, shaking her head.

“And your endless attempts to derail council business for your petty vendetta against me never ceases to – actually, no, never mind. That never surprises me.” I straightened in my seat and grinned at her. “Besides, there’s a difference between arrogance and just plain confidence.”

“Well, I’m quite confident in my assumption that your arrogance will get you and Daryl killed.” She pursed her lips in a pouted frown, cocking a challenging brow at me.

Instead of rising up at her, I turned to look at Daryl with a calm smile. “What do you think, Little Dixon? Reckon we can handle it?”

He nodded, smiling slightly back at me.

I turned my head and looked at Claire with a bright, somewhat smug grin. “See?”

“Oh, please,” Claire scoffed. “He’d agree with anything you say.”

“Not true.”

She gave me another one of those pointed, doubtful looks.

I lifted my chin and struck my fist against the table with mock intensity. “The Jets are superior to the Falcons in every way!” I declared.

“Like hell they are,” Daryl snorted.

I gestured toward Daryl with my smug grin fixed on Claire. “Boom. Disagreement.”

She just shook her head again.

Hershel, in his wisdom, spoke up before she could make another remark, tearing out a piece of his notebook and handing it to Daryl. “Here’s a list of what we’ll need. You should gather your supplies and hit the road tomorrow morning. I’ll assign someone to cover your watch tonight so you can rest up for the drive.”

“How kind of you,” I said with a thankful smile, batting my eyelids at the man.

Hershel smiled politely back before continuing with the council’s other businesses.

Daryl and I met up by the front of the truck early that next morning.

The sun had barely even begun to rise, which made me want to punch something, but I smiled genuinely at the man as I came to a stop in front of him. He was carrying an M16 rifle and offered it to me with a nod.

“For me?” I asked with a wide grin, taking the rifle gleefully. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daryl grunted with a small smile, shaking his head before gesturing toward the truck. “Want me to drive?”

“How gentlemanly of you to offer,” I answered, smirking as I slid the backpack from my shoulder and tossed it into the open passenger’s side window with my free hand. Without another word, I pulled the door open and climbed in, resting the rifle across my lap (barrel facing outward, of course).

Daryl did the same, placing his crossbow in the little gap between the front seat and the enclosed truck bed. Michonne had taken our watch last night and was standing by the courtyard gate, ready to open it for us as we drove through.

I gave her a wave as we passed, which she returned, and then the two of us were off.

“We need code names,” I remarked, lifting my feet to rest the heels of my boots on the dashboard.

“A codename?” Daryl echoed questioningly, giving me a bemused side-eye.

“Yeah. Road trip code names.” I leant back in the seat, turning my head to face him and grinning. “Like truckers.”

Daryl snorted. “I take it you got some ideas.”

“Bow and Arrow,” I said without any hesitation whatsoever. “You’re bow, obviously. I’m arrow.”

“Why do you get to be arrow?”

“Because I’m slim, fast, and pointy.”

Daryl barked out a laugh. “A’ight. Next?”

“Sheila and Yankee.”

“What?” He glanced over at me with furrowed brows, a smile still pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Sheila and Yankee. Because I’m a sheila and you’re a yank.”

“The hell is a sheila?” he asked. The way he pronounced it, all Southern-like, made me laugh.

“It’s an Aussie slang term for woman,” I answered. “Like “chick” or “broad”, but in Outback-Speak.”

Daryl shook his head with a silent laugh, taking one hand off the wheel and somewhat relaxing in his seat.

It had only been half an hour since we’d left the prison. We had a long way to go yet. I wondered how long it would take for Daryl to get sick of me and my incessant talking. There hadn’t been an issue between us regarding it yet, of course, but we also hadn’t been trapped in an enclosed space together before. There had always been the option to leave. He just never had.

“Hell. What you got next?”

“Hmm,” I hummed in thought, lifting my hand to tap a forefinger against my chin. “Archer and Dagger. Ranger and Rogue. The Redneck and the Rich Bitch.”

He snorted at that one.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, pulling my feet from the dash and turning in my seat to look at him. “Saint and Sin. Boom.”

“I ain’t no saint,” Daryl retorted, though it was clear my excitement at the name had amused him.

“Who said you were saint? Why couldn’t I be saint?” I asked in mock offence.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“It was implied.”

He gave me a side-long glance. “Your name is Syn.”

“Yeah, but I mean sin. Like, s-i-n. Not s-y-n.” I looked at him for a moment with a straight face before crumbling into giggles. “Okay, okay. I obviously meant you were Saint. But if you don’t like that… We could be Sin and Sinner. Like Dumb and Dumber, but sexier.”

He just shook his head at that, looking out the front window with a faint smile.

The scenery past by us in a blur. Our speed only increased once we hit the interstate, enabling us to reach almost sixty miles until Daryl decided it was probably safer to slow down, given there were biters and abandoned cars beginning to mill about on the road in front of us. At one point, early on, I had turned to look out the window, resting the side of my head against the back of the seat as I watched field after field go past, I somehow blinked and suddenly, we were surrounded by forest.

I jerked upright, heartbeat thundering inside my chest as the fading remnants of what must have been a nightmare faded from my conscious mind.

Daryl turned to look at me, brows furrowed in concern. “You a’ight?”

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah. Been ‘bout an hour.” He turned back to the road for a moment before looking back at me. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, not voicing my confirmation (because I couldn’t), and readjusted myself in my seat until I was sitting straight against the backing, hands resting against my thighs. “How long we got left?”

“Another six or so,” he answered.

I grimaced. “Think we could pull over for a second?”

Daryl began press on the brake, wordlessly pulling the vehicle over to the roadside and bringing it to a squeaky halt. Once we’d come to a complete stop, he turned to look at me, watching as I pushed open the passenger side door and leapt out.

The fresh air bit at the skin of my face, cooling the burn that had begun to set in across my flesh without my knowledge. I didn’t know if my magic had been awakened by whatever nightmare had apparently taken root during that one unaccounted hour, but it sure felt as if something had set it free inside me. A typical side-effect of being a creature of instinct and magic meant, sometimes, emotions spiralled out of my control. When that happened, sometimes, those emotions manifested in the world around me through magic. Anger lit a fire beneath my skin that often burned hot enough to increase my body temperature higher than humanly possible. Usually, I could manage it. Keeping a tight grip on my emotions came with the territory of being an assassin, though I couldn’t completely supress them like many of my co-workers could. My anger had always gotten the best of me. It was the one thing I could barely hold back, which was dangerous, considering my fire magic was quite… potent. Even with the magical bind that restricted my magic use, I was liable to start forest fires if I got angry enough.

It didn’t always happen, of course. It was barely any more predictable than a heart attack was.

I was just thankful I’d woken up before I had hurt Daryl.

“Hey.”

Standing beside the truck, bracing my hands against my thighs, I hadn’t even noticed Daryl’s approach. He’d gotten out likely the same time I had and had walked around the front of the vehicle whilst I had zoned out. I felt his hand come to rest on my shoulder. When he didn’t pull it back, yelling in pain at the heat, I let out a soft sigh and straightened.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at me worriedly, his hand still tightly gripping the leather of the jacket over my shoulder.

“It’s – I just – Don’t worry about it, alright?” I stuttered in response. Honestly, what was I going to tell him? That I’d had a bad dream? I didn’t even know if I had. I’d just woken up angry and frightened and couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

“I am worryin’,” he breathed, shuffling slightly closer to me. When he got a good look at my expression, he nodded and stepped back, allowing his hand to fall to his side. “Need a minute?”

I gave him a thankful nod. He walked back around to the driver’s side and climbed into the truck, patiently sitting whilst I took in large lungsful of air.

Honestly, had it been a nightmare, there were so many different things it could have been about that I didn’t have a hope in hell of figuring it out.

I took in a few more deep breaths before shaking my head to clear the fog from it, reaching out for the doorframe and climbing back up into the truck.

Daryl watched me the whole time whilst I got myself comfortable and slammed the door closed, a frown on his lips. When I caught his gaze, he lifted a questioning brow.

I nodded, gesturing toward the open road ahead of us. “Ready when you are, Sinner.”

He paused a moment, looking as if he wanted to ask something, but thought better of it. With a shake of his head, he put the truck back in gear and we continued on our way.

The rest of the drive passed smoothly.

We acted as if nothing at all had transpired, chatting away in that nonsense way we somehow excelled at. Once we reached a dilapidated gas station that marked the rough halfway point, we swapped seats. Midway through my turn driving, Daryl fell asleep, curled up against the door with his elbow resting against the window.

The silence was broken only by the sound of the wheels against the road and the soft, near hypnotic sounds of his steady breathing. Every now and then, I stole a glance over to him, smiling to myself at the serene look of peace on his face.

It was in moments like that where I found myself often imagining what would happen if I truly opened up to the man sleeping beside me. If I told him the truth of what I had been before the world had gone to shit, what kind of blood truly rain through my veins. Every time I found myself wondering, the cold hand of fear would pull the thought away in a violent, swift motion that left me shuddering. I had always been the kind of person that preferred to shoulder the weight of my own demons to stop them from crushing the ones I cared for. Even when the effort came at the cost of the relationships I had been trying to protect.

The truth was, I had chosen to throw myself into the darkness to keep the one I loved the most in the light. But my darkness had come back to snuff out that brightness in one vile moment that haunted me to this day.

I had brought that onto Her. Just for being who I was, who I had become to keep her safe. And I would never forgive myself for it.

Perhaps that was why I shuddered at the thought of allowing anyone else the chance to fall into the same fate. Why I refused to open up, even with the knowledge that one day the truth would inevitably come to light, and likely not in a very pleasant way.

“What’s that look for?”

The sound of his voice startled me so much that I actually jerked the wheel a little, causing the tires to screech as I realigned them.

“Jesus fuck, man,” I breathed, turning to look at him once I was comfortable I had the truck under control again. He was partially sitting up now, his arm having slid down to rest against the inner windowsill, looking across at me with a worried frown. “Warn a girl, would you?”

“The hell you want me to do, whistle?” he asked, the concerned look softening slightly in a small smirk of amusement.

I grimaced. “For some reason, I feel like that would be worse.”

Daryl straightened fully back into his seat, looking out the front window and shielding his eyes with his hand. “How far we got?”

“’Bout an hour,” I answered. “Turn off is coming up, I think.”

Once we had made our way off the interstate, the series of factories Hayden had described were pretty easy to find. They were set up in a sort of C shape, with an expansive, barren carpark set up inside the curve of buildings. A wide alley lead between two of the factories, cutting right through the centre of the C and leading to the carpark.

I backed the truck to the opening of the alley, putting it in park before turning to look at Daryl.

“Best scope it out before we bring the truck in,” I stated.

He nodded his agreement, fetched his crossbow from behind the seat, shouldering my backpack as he slid out of the truck. I followed shortly behind, leaving my M16 in the back without even thinking.

#the walking dead #twd #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #fanfic #daryl dixon #hershel greene #tyreese williams #claire duncan #synnove le jacques #the monsters among us #mau

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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i’ll be your biggest fan and you’ll be mine (Scyvie) - cokewhore

a/n: hi!!!! this was originally a trixya fic from last december that i found on my wattpad account but i tweaked it a bit to be scyvie because that ship is in some serious drought rn and also!! this is my first aq submission and lowercase is intended but anyways, enjoy!

“hey! give that back!”

“kiss me on the cheek first.”

another normal day at yvie’s little bedroom, the birds outside were chirping even though it was seven pm, so.. maybe they were crickets, or birds, or whatever. neithertheless, they were having fun.

scarlet getting all flirty and playful and all that, it was fine, yvie knew she was joking, there was still the lingering thought of maybe she wasn’t joking at all, but yvie ignores that because scarlet’s her friend, her bestfriend for that fact.

scarlet was waving yvie’s vandalised yet rhinestoned ukulele and waving it around the room and threatening to mess up the tuning heads if she doesn’t get a smooch from one of her cheeks.

yvie was struggling to catch up with scarlet who was running around her room; she couldn’t catch up because of her dumb stomach ache she got because of eating too much junk food earlier.it wasn’t her fault, it was some kentucky idiot’s fault.

her goal was to try and get her customized instrument back without leaving her new red lipstick on anyone’s cheeks, she was failing though. “scarlet, what the hell! just give it back!” she begs, her hand being thrown at the direction of said girl’s arms who were carrying her possesion, awfully failing when scarlet ran to another corner.

“no.” she said simply, her blonde hair stuck to her wet forehead because that’s how long they’ve been chasing eachother, long enough for scarlet to start sweating, well, not very long since she’s known for sweating almost too easily. “kiss me on the cheek, yvieeee.” she stops her tracks, turns her head then leans her right cheek to yvie, cheekily smiling; asking for what she’s been manifesting for for atleast five minutes now. “pleaseeeeee.” she draws out, visibly seeing the roll from her friend’s brown eyes.

“you’re an idiot.” said yvie, crossing her arms across her thin chest while still seeing that scarlet wasn’t going to leave if she didn’t get a kiss. “i’m doing this because i want my ukulele back, not because i wanna kiss your cheek… or anything.” she explains unnecessarily as she pecks her plump lips to her friend’s cheeks, closing her eyes in the process.

she pulled away shortly, acting like she was so bored out of her mind as if that little peck on the older girl’s cheek wasn’t important. “can i have it back now?” she asks, still keeping on her disinterested mask on her face.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” scarlet hands yvie her instrument, a small blush creeping up to her face as she did, it could be easily mistaken for something else because she was hot and sweating her mind out, but it wasn’t. she sits down to yvie’s bed to where the other one follows.

yvie pulled down the elastic that was holding up her pink hair, it wasn’t doing a very good job of holding her thick hair up because it literally didn’t look and feel like a ponytail anymore so what was the point of keeping it on? she strums her ukulele then feeling her ear drums ache after she heard of what lineup of vibrations came out the sound hole. “you messed up the chords!” she exclaims with a mix of anger and sadness (she’s not actually angry at scarlet, she can’t do that for the sake of her life) desperation shining through when she furiously turns the tuning heads in hopes of the chords’ original sounds coming back.

“no i didn’t.” scarlet found yvie’s desire to get her graffiti ukulele to work amusing, but yvie didn’t find her own struggle entertaining like her best fried did, she was determined to get her dumb ukulele to sound the way it sounded when she was playing her songs in the same spot on her bed late at night, or the way it sounded when she writing down her first song, it was about her sorrow when she found out that scarlet’s mom said that they should stop being friends, that was two years ago though.

her determination left them both in a silence where everything was boring to scarlet, always finding something to be fond of even though there was nothing to interesting enough to pursue interest in, she was used to it, waiting for yvie to finish whatever she was doing because she was always doing something, she was the student government president after all, scarlet has learned nothing but how to put up with her dumb rants about their high school life during their high school carreer.

but to add to the fire, who would listen to someone with pink hair?

yvie shouldn’t have even agreed to being a part of the student government in the first place , she wishes she could resign even though it’s been only four months in but she already hates it because no one takes her seriously, she doesn’t know why though, she’s a great leader, she made scarlet wear a black shirt for a day, that proves something.

it was her fault though, scarlet tried to push her out of this president position but she wouldn’t listen, and now she’s regretting that she didn’t listen. “you’re paying for this.” yvie muttered under her breath, her head still directed to the tuning heads, not looking up one bit to clash with her friend’s blue eyes.

“no i’m not.” scarlet replies simply, stroking yvie’s headboard lightly with her thumb, that’s how bored she was, but she thought she shouldn’t bother yvie since she was so invested in fixing her stupid wood guitar wannabe or whatever, scarlet knew better than not to bother yvie when she’s doing something important, or to bother anyone at all, yes, she’s playful and really touchy and clingy at all times but once she knows it’s time to step back; she will.

so that’s what she’s doing right now, waiting for yvie to finish her ‘pointless’ (atleast in scarlet’s words) tuning and talk to her already, she was taught to be patient, that didn’t always work out but miraculously scarlet’s working with time and actually waiting.

“it actually won’t work and it’s all your fault.” yvie pouts, her fading red bottom lip stuck out from the rest of her face as she spoke with agitation. “i can’t believe this.”

“aww, cheer up, buttercup.” scarlet cooed as she pinches her cheeks, yvie just rolls her eyes, not at scarley, but the stupid nickname she gave her. “i’ll buy you a new one for christmas.” her tone was no joking matter, even though she just said she wasn’t paying for the damage, she was serious, but yvie didn’t catch that and decided to swing with the imaginary gag of scarlet’s words.

“okay, yeah, and you’ll also finally learn how to dance.” yvie retorts, recalling all the times scarlet tried to dance during school events then laughing after she saw how defeated the blonde looked, maybe because her offer was all along fake and not gonna happen to begin with? “see, now you look like a loser because i caught you in your act.” she adds, chunks of boastful undertones paired with her statement to her bestfriend.

“oh please, it wasn’t like i was kidding, bridges.” scarlet will actually buy a ukulele for yvie, it doesn’t matter if the one yvie’s trying to tune turns fine because it looks ridiculous and something a five year old would own, just scarlet’s opinion. she’s doing her a favor more than anything, really. “can you believe me just this once?”

yvie mutters ‘fine’ before focusing on her ukulele for the hundredth time, before communicating with scarlet again, her head still faced on her untuned instrument. “you don’t have to buy me the ukulele, scar.”

scarlet just chuckles at that. “i’m still going to. you can’t stop me.” she says, staring at yvie. “nothing’s ever gonna stop me to buy you a new one.”

“why?”

“because your 'artistic’ one is ugly, to be honest with you.” scarlet states, not caring if yvie gets offended because it was the truth, or her truth anyways because yvie seems to think her truth is a whole load of bullshit.

“that’s crazy talk.” yvie dismisses, not even looking at her friend as she was fixing the chords, she probably shouldn’t go that fast but she is anyways, fully aware that the ukulele itself might break because of how agressive she turns the tune heads.

“your mom’s crazy talk.” she hears scarlet retort and she holds back a laugh as she’s supposed to be focused, she can’t just break her streak of being very intense by that stupid your mom joke.

“i’m telling her.”

after their short banter, it stayed silent, again, well, not really, the air was mostly just correction tuned chords from the messy stoned sound hole, it was getting annoying but scarlet had no say in it, who can she blame? only herself for thinking that messing with the tuneheads was a good idea.

one of them breaks the tranquility, with a groundbreaking question, not really but whatever. “you know i love you, right?” scarlet asks, out of the blue. it isn’t supposed to be taken as romantic, but yvie didn’t know how to take it, she doesn’t know how those words should translate in her brain because they were so heavy in her opinion.

“huh?” yvie doesn’t know if she was hearing things. well, she heard scarlet, she just wasn’t sure if she was hearing her right. “what’d you say, scar?”

“i said i love you.” she said again, this time, she’s looking at yvie and sustaining the contact they hold with their different colored eyes. “you know that, right?”

yvie just widens her eyes, she didn’t know what she meant, but she’ll answer anyways. “y-yeah, ofcourse i do.” she nods rapidly, stuttering too which is rare for her, her face is getting really red too. maybe it’s because it’s really hot in here or maybe… it’s because yvie is being really hot right now. either of the two makes sense. “i love you too.” she adds hesistantly.

scarlet smiles at how flustered yvie is. she didn’t know why scarlet was saying that when she’s been an ass to her so much. (exhibit a: yvie telling at scarlet that she’s a bitch because she messed up yvie’s painting) or all the times she’s made her wait just so yvie can have someone to walk with from school. scarlet has weirdly always been there by her side, no matter how hostile yvie can get sometimes. “i just thought that i should remind you because you do all these things for me, it’s insane but also lovely at the same time.”

“well, i do those things for you because i- i don’t know i- i just like seeing you happy, so…” yvie shrugs, she definitely doesn’t know what she’s talking about, this situation is weird for her. too much seriousness for her, which is kinda hypocritical because the air was as serious as when she was with her ukulele.

“that’s sweet of you, but don’t i get tiring?” scarlet finally looks up to face yvie who’s eyes are still wide and big. “like sometimes i’m annoying and then you know i know i’m being annoying and you get annoyed by it but-“ she was rambling, but yvie didn’t mind, she’d listen to her voice all day. “and like right now i messed up your ukulele. sorry for that, by the way.“

“bitch! i’m even worse! i don’t even know how you put up with me.” yvie suddenly bursts in laughter and seeing scarlet join her in laughing made her happy, everything about her made her happy.

as the laughter died down, scarlet deadpans and says “true.” and yvie immediately drops her face as she was trying to look for a tone of a joker, but her face was not hinting anything.

“wait what-“

“i’m kidding!”

and then she lets out a sigh of relief.

“well, i guess we’re even then.” yvie chuckles, she strums her ukulele again only to find out that it’s finally tuned, thank god. “hey, look! you don’t have to buy me that ukulele anymore.” she beams at scarlet, showing off her teeth which made scarlet mirror her reaction.

she’s never been this confused her entire life because a new wave of feelings came in her, they were so unfamiliar but she swears she’s heard about descriptions of this feeling from her friends, she doesn’t know what it is, but she’ll figure it out soon, and soon because her mind just stopped working when scarlet replied.

“bet.”

#rpdr fanfiction #scyvie #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #fluff #best friends #crushes #soft #lesbian au #high school au #cokewhore #concrit welcome #submission

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irondadgroupie · 5 years ago

Text

Bohemian Rhapsody: Chapter 10

A/N: You might be wondering how long this story is going to be. Truth to told, @iamwhump and I have NO IDEA!

“Ugh, your hair is getting too long,” Tony muttered as he brushed the boy's curls. “How can that be? I thought your body would be focused on repairing your brain! Or did I misread the manual to your powers?”

Peter, as always, gave no answer but Tony did not let it get him down. If he did that, he would have lost his mind weeks ago.

“Would you mind if I cut it some? You have so many split ends you won't even believe!” He brushed loose hair from Peter's pillow and let out a breath. “You know, I do love myself but monologues are getting kind of boring. So, if you would be so kind to wake up that would be great.”

Peter stayed silent.

“Hey, any sound would do. A groan, a mumble, a scream, anything your mouth can come up with.”

Tony waited but nothing happened. He was too used to the ventilator, he was afraid Peter would never learn to breathe by himself again.

“Okay, do you want to see a movie then? May brought a bunch of them. Let's see... Peter Pan, the human version, Harry Potter, Robin Hood, God I have not seen this in ages! I loved it as a kid- Mom took me to see it in the premiere.” He trailed off and did not witness Peter's eyes opening. It was a shock that nearly stopped his heart.

“Peter,” Tony breathed out and stood up from the slouched position. He cradled the boy's face in his hands and tears filled his eyes. “Kiddo,” He kissed the boy's temple and embraced him. “Oh my God! You- you're here!”

Tony let go and stroked the boy's cheek, tears falling onto his skin. “You gave us such a scare but you came through, like you always do.”

Peter was staring at the ceiling, his eyes unblinking.

“You're such a brave boy,” Tony moved closer so he was in Peter's line of vision.

Nothing happened.

Tony frowned. “Peter?” He waved a hand over the boy's face. No response.

“Hey, kid,” Tony's heart nearly stopped again and he grasped the boy's shoulders in a desperate act. “What is wrong? Are you blind? Can't you hear me?” He pinched Peter's arm, but got no sound, no twitching, just a red mark from his nails. “Help!”

Things happened all to suddenly for Tony to make sense of them when the doctor entered the room, May following closely behind. It didn’t take either of them long to find the reason for Tony’s panic, and paradoxically, the medic managed to ease his worries and make his heart ache at just the same time.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. This is a good sign. A very good even so.” He said, swiftly moving the penlight across Peter’s line of vision. “This counts to the first signs of reaching a minimally conscious state. While he won’t yet be responding to commands or follow objects and such, he becomes increasingly aware of his environment. You might be experiencing him grasping your hands, probably even attempting to vocalize on reflex.”

“Vo-“ May stopped. “Will he be aware of the ventilator?”

“That’s hard to say. Given his vitals, he’s clearly already fighting back against it a little. But most patients in coma do not mind the ventilator in early stages of even a newly gained full consciousness. And we hope to have him away from the vent before that happens. If he continues to progress at the rate he is now, I don’t see any reason for it not to happen.“

“Alright so - what are we supposed to do now?” Tony asked, still struggling to regain his composure after the initial shock.

“Just continue as you did before.” The doctor answered with a smile on his face. “Talk to him, respond when he’s showing physical signs of short consciousness. The only thing that becomes important now is that you close his eyes when he opens them for too long at a time, because the blinking reflex might be hard to control just yet. But at the state he is in right now, I would rather not want them to be taped, in case he quickly regains consciousness.”

“Quickly? What time spans are we talking about right now?”

There it was again, the casual shrug. “Hard to quantify. Maybe just a few hours. Maybe another few weeks. It’s very individual.”

Tony sighed, fingers tracing the line of his eyebrows before he turned around, looking at Peter. The boy’s eyes had closed again. “You’re an especially sleepy individual, huh?” He smiled weakly. “But take your time. Your aunt and I won’t go anywhere.”

“Man, this movie is dark,” Tony muttered as Lampwick turned into a donkey. “How did your parents let you watch this?”

Peter laid beside him and Tony was almost expecting the boy to stay silent for the rest of his life. The doctor had informed them a week ago that Peter was now in a minimally conscious state and yes, there were some moments when Tony was certain a part of Peter got through the haze in his brain. But those moments were few in between.

“Jiminy Cricket is absolutely useless,” Tony shook his head and leaned on the pillows. Peter’s hand twitched and the man smiled tiredly. “Fine,” he grasped Peter’s hand and kissed the boy’s knuckles. “He is a great little bug. My new favorite.”

Peter grasped his hand.

Tony snorted. “Oh, so that you hear? And all those heartfelt proclamations of undying love you chose to ignore.”

“It’s not his fault, you told them while he was sleeping,” May chuckled as she opened the door. “Oh,” She glanced at the screen and offered Tony a take-away cup of coffee. “I was so scared of this movie.”

“I am not shocked,” Tony smiled and took a sip. “I have half a mind to turn this off but Peter doesn’t let me.” The man softened the blow with leaning down and setting a tender, long kiss on Peter’s head. The boy grasped his mentor’s hand. “You’re pretty communicative today, kiddo.” He remarked, caressing the boy’s cheek with his knuckles.

“Maybe he simply knows what time it is.” May guessed, letting herself sink in the chair at Peter’s left side, her hand finding his. Tony had his eyebrows raised, but taking a look at his watch, he understood what she was talking about.

“Your aunt’s right. Almost forgot it’s training time already.” That fact was true in even two definitions: Ever since the first days of coma - or rather ever since his hand allowed it - he’d done the prescript workout with Peter every morning and evening, hoping to counteract the muscle-loss that the doctors feared was only increased by how enhanced his metabolism worked. However, it was Saturday, and Saturday evenings were usually spent training with the other Avengers. Tony should probably be down there too, but he couldn’t care less. At the moment, he had more important things in mind than his superhero-side or even company business. Pep kept him informed over the most important stuff when she came for lunch, but the decision-making rested on her. Once all of this trouble was over, Tony mentally reminded himself, he definitely needed to profoundly thank her for never not having his back.

“The others miss you a lot.” He started, standing up, deciding to start with the kid’s legs this time. “If you’d be conscious enough to give it a glance, you’d see the tons of gift cards and presents. Literally everyone sent one.”

“It’s beautiful, really.” May agreed. “There’s the new flowers Pepper brought yesterday, Areca palms. Huge ones, but the doctors said it might do you good because it supposedly keeps the air in this room fresh and clean.”

She and Tony shared a look instantaneously, realizing yet again that neither of them had an idea when Peter would have the pleasure of breathing in said freshness again.

May shook her head and just went on. “Then there’s literally dozens of ‘get well soon’ cards. And I mean dozens. Probably more than I have colleagues - and you know what that implies. I probably don’t even know half as many people.” Tony laughed while his hands were gently moving Peter’s feet.

“Me neither.”

“How come everyone knows Peter then?” May asked.

“Answer’s easily given, isn’t it?”

The smile finally reached the woman’s face too and she tightly squeezed her nephew’s hand. “Yes. Yes it is.”

“I can’t really pinpoint when it happened, but he certainly became everyone’s favorite intern. He’s really talkative, but in a genuine way. Most highly intellectual people have a tendency to be very unsociable. Peter isn’t. He’s the one person you tell about your daughter’s birthday once and he remembers it and brings a card the right day the next year. People like him because he actually listens to what he’s told.”

“Most of the time.” May put in.

“Most of the time.” Tony agreed, thinking about those plenty times the kid has disobeyed orders given, though for a good reason. “But seriously. If engineering isn’t going to get your speciality, you could really become one of those classic talking therapists. You never fail to make people happy, and make them become the best version of themselves he can.” Tony coughed, contrived enough to ensure May that he wasn’t sick, but natural enough to hide the intense sadness lingering behind the words. Peter had really managed to get the very best out of him.

“Speaking of Happy,”, he casually changed the topic, moving up to the kid’s arms to work on the arm muscles too. “He brought a card, too. And that new self-driving Lego car you so eagerly talked about last time he shuttled you. He might appear a little distant sometimes, but he really cares for you, too. We all do. And we’d all be goddamn happy if you just wake up soon.”

Peter didn’t respond, neither by a hand twitch, nor by opening his eyes, and after a while, May just continued to describe the presents he’d gotten.

Tony woke up around midnight that day. Lights were dimmed down – he’d asked Friday to gradually lower the settings beginning at eight pm to imitate somewhat of a daily routine to Peter. It took him a few minutes to realize what had woken him, and another to try and translate it into his language. Peter was moaning quietly, single vocals forced out of his mouth despite the breathing tube holding them down.

“You’re okay, kiddo? Does something hurt?” The boy had been laid on his back again, and Tony feared that it had not yet fully recovered from being laid on for almost two weeks straight. However, Peter’s heart rate was too low to indicate that something was physically painful.

“Or was it because I fell asleep?”, he inquired, squeezing the kid’s hand gently and massaging his temples with his thumb. “I should’ve stayed awake. It’s your aunt’s sleeping time. I’m sorry. Watching movies all day is just really tiring.”

Peter moaned again, and the sound broke Tony’s heart. He’d give everything he had just to hear the kids real voice again.

“I’m here, don’t worry. I’m always here.” He assured, but that didn’t entirely seemed to be it either. Tony tried to make the next guess. “Wanna hear a story?” Peter neither agreed to, nor refused the offer – or maybe Tony just couldn’t tell. He reached forward, scanning the literal tower of books they’d built for something he could read. “Something light-hearted, I assume, huh? Don’t have to get deep into the sciences when it’s almost midnight.”

Tony laughed at the irony that – if things were alright – they would be probably awake spending their time in his lab; on science stuff. Although Peter always became a little groggy around midnight, and they usually spent an hour just sitting in the kitchen, finally eating and drinking the required amounts and sometimes searching for new shirts for Peter. “I really miss seeing those engineering puns on your shirts. They certainly never failed to make my day.” He swallowed, suddenly having a vivid image of the hoodie Peter wore the day things were still alright. The print said: “I make horrible science puns, but only periodically.” The kid had loved it, given that this basically summed up his humor. But it had probably been cut apart by the emergency services. Tony would definitely order him a replacement. “Maybe that’s what we should do. Try and find you some new jokes to try out when you’re better. What do you think about that?” He used the time waiting for an answer looking his request up until he found some good ones.

“Okay, you’re ready? Here we go: A photon checks into a hotel and is asked if he needs any help with his luggage. He says, ‘No, I'm traveling light.’” Tony rolled his eyes. “God, that was a really bad one. This one’s better. Organic chemistry is difficult. Those who study it have alkynes of trouble. If that isn’t worth a shirt-print I don’t know what is.”

He saved it, deciding for himself that he was going to get the kid the best self-made science-shirts that ever existed, just to see Peter’s eyes light up in laughter. “Let’s mix it a little. One good – one bad. Although I bet you’d laugh about all of these. What did Gregor Mendel say when he founded genetics? ‘Woopea!’. We forget about that one and just go on. A couple of biologists had twins. They named one Jessica and the other Control.” Tony smiled. “I bet we’re going to hate this one in just a few weeks. When we’ve adjusted your formula to the new requirements, they’re gonna beta-test it on rats to see how efficient it is in comparison with control groups.”

Tony spent the next half an hour reading all kind of science jokes to Peter, suddenly realizing he probably wasn’t doing it mainly for the kid – but for himself. Whenever he finished reading one he imagined the boy’s reaction to it: Simply rolling his eyes, or even crying in guffaw over how awful some of these were. When Tony had once pulled the “Iconic Bond” joke, Peter had laughed so badly he couldn’t breathe straight for a solid ten minutes. God, how badly he wanted just to travel back to that moment and pretend the last weeks have been nothing but a very, very cruel nightmare.

“I had to make these bad chemistry jokes because all the good ones Argon.” He finished fittingly, after what must be the hundredth joke. “Some of those were actually quite good, weren’t they?” Peter squeezed his hand, and Tony smiled. At that point, he could easily imagine the kid might’ve even heard him in the haze of his brain. “But it’s really late, so maybe we’re just going to read you a goodnight story, and then you just relax for a little while. I put on some music, too.” He picked a book filled with Toy Story short stories and searched one he hadn’t read to the boy just yet, leaned back in his chair and started telling Peter about Woody’s on-road adventures, until even his eyes almost dropped.

“Goodnight, Pete.” He whispered, tenderly stroking the boy’s curly hair.

#irondad #fanfic #bohemian rhapsody

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